L I B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
 8Z3 
 
 C69a* 
 1859^ 
 
 >
 
 S>.J\
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 WILKIE COLLINS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE DEAD SECRET," "AFTER DARK, 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE YOLUIVIES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1859. 
 
 The Author reserves the right of Translation.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 FllINTED BY R. BORK, GLOUCESTKR STREET, 
 
 KEGEKT'S PARK.
 
 LETTER OF DEDICATION. 
 
 TO 
 
 EMILE FORGUES, 
 
 At a time when French readers were alto- 
 gether unaware of the existence of any books 
 of my writing, a critical examination of my 
 novels appeared under your signature, in the 
 " Revue des Deux Mondes." I read that 
 
 ; article, at the time of its appearance, with 
 sincere pleasure and sincere gratitude to the 
 writer ; and I have honestly done my best to 
 
 .; profit by it ever since.
 
 11 DEDICATION. 
 
 At a later period, when arrangements were 
 made for the publication of my novels in Paris, 
 you kindly undertook, at some sacrifice of 
 your own convenience, to give the first of the 
 series — The Dead Secret — the great advantage 
 of being rendered into French by your pen. 
 Your excellent translation of Tke Lighthouse 
 had already taught me how to appreciate the 
 value of your assistance ; and when The Dead 
 Secret appeared in its French form, although 
 I was sensibly gratified, I was by no means 
 surprised to find my fortunate work of fiction — 
 not translated, in the mechanical sense of the 
 word — but transformed from a novel that I 
 had written in my language, to a novel that 
 you might have written in yours. 
 
 I am now about to ask you to confer one 
 more literary obligation on me, by accepting 
 the dedication of this book; as the earliest 
 acknowledgment which it has been in my
 
 DEDICATION. lU 
 
 power to make, of the debt I owe to my 
 critic, to my translator, and to my friend. 
 
 The Stories which form the principal con- 
 tents of the following pages, are all, more or 
 less, exercises in that Art which I have now 
 studied anxiously for some years, and which 
 I still hope to cultivate, to better and better 
 purpose, for many more. Allow me, by inscrib- 
 ing the collection to you, to secure one reader 
 for it at the outset of its progress through the 
 world of letters, whose capacity for seeing all a 
 writer^s defects may be matched by many other 
 critics, but whose rarer faculty of seeing all a 
 writer's merits is equalled by very few. 
 
 WiLKiE Collins. 
 
 London, October, 1859.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OURSELVES. 
 
 We were three quiet, lonely old men, and 
 SHE was a lively, handsome young woman; 
 and we were at our wit's end what to do 
 with her. 
 
 A word about ourselves, first of all — a 
 necessary word to explain the singular situa- 
 tion of our fair young guest. 
 
 We are three brothers ; and we live in a 
 barbarous, dismal old house called The Glen 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Tower. Our place of abode stands in a 
 hilly, lonesome district of South Wales. No 
 such thing as a line of railway runs any- 
 where near us. No gentleman's seat is 
 within an easy drive of us. We are at an 
 unspeakably inconvenient distance from a 
 town; and the village to which we send 
 for our letters is three miles off. 
 
 My eldest brother, Owen, was brought up 
 to the Church. All the prime of his life 
 was passed in a populous London parish. 
 For more years than I now like to reckon 
 up, he worked unremittingly, in defiance 
 of failing health and adverse fortune, amid 
 the multitudinous misery of the London poor ; 
 and he would, in all probability, have sacri- 
 ficed his life to his duty, long before the 
 present time, if The Glen Tower had not 
 come into his possession through two unex- 
 pected deaths in the elder and richer branch
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 3 
 
 of our family. This opening to him of a 
 place of rest and refuge saved his life. No 
 man ever drew breath who better deserved 
 the gifts of fortune — for no man, I sincerely 
 believe, more tender of others, more diffident 
 of himself, more gentle, more generous, and 
 more simple-hearted than Owen, ever walked 
 this earth. 
 
 My second brother, Morgan, started in 
 life as a doctor; and learnt all that his 
 profession could teach him, at home and 
 abroad. He realised a moderate independ- 
 ence by his practice; beginning in one of 
 our large northern towns, and ending as a 
 physician in London. But, although he 
 was well known and appreciated among his 
 brethren, he failed to gain that sort of re- 
 putation with the public, which elevates a 
 man into the position of a great doctor. 
 The ladies never liked him. In the first 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 place, he was ugly (Morgan will excuse 
 me for mentioning this) ; in the second 
 place, he was an inveterate smoker, and he 
 smelt of tobacco when he felt languid 
 pulses in elegant bedrooms; in the third 
 place, he was the most formidably out- 
 spoken teller of the truth, as regarded 
 himself, his profession, and his patients, 
 that ever imperilled the social standing of 
 the science of medicine. For these reasons, 
 and for others, which it is not necessary 
 to mention, he never pushed his way, as 
 a doctor, into the front ranks — and he 
 never cared to do so. About a year after 
 Owen came into possession of The Glen 
 Tower, Morgan discovered that he had 
 saved as much money for his old age, as 
 a sensible man could want; that he was 
 tired of the active pursuit — or, as he termed 
 it, of the dignified quackery — of his pro-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 5 
 
 fession ; and that it was only common 
 charity to give his invalid brother a com- 
 panion who could physic him for nothing, 
 and so prevent him from getting rid of his 
 money, in the worst of all possible ways, 
 by wasting it on doctors' bills. In a week 
 after Morgan had arrived at these con- 
 clusions, he was settled at The Glen 
 Tower; and, from that time, opposite as 
 their characters were, my two elder 
 brothers lived together in their lonely 
 retreat, thoroughly understanding, and, in 
 their very different ways, heartily loving 
 one another. 
 
 Many years passed before I, the youngest 
 of the three — christened by the unmelo- 
 dious name of Griffith — found my way, in 
 my turn, to the dreary old house and the 
 sheltering quiet of the Welsh hills. My 
 career in life had led me away from my
 
 6 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 brothers. And even now, when we are 
 all united, I have still ties and interests 
 to connect me with the outer world, which 
 neither Owen nor Morgan possess. 
 
 I was brought up to the Bar. After my 
 first year's study of the law, I wearied of it, 
 and strayed aside idly into the brighter and 
 more attractive paths of literature. My 
 occasional occupation with my pen was 
 varied by long travelling excursions in all 
 parts of the Continent; year by year, my 
 circle of gay friends and acquaintances 
 increased, and I bade fair to sink into 
 the condition of a wandering, desultory man, 
 without a fixed purpose in life of any sort, 
 when I was saved by what has saved 
 many another in my situation — an attach- 
 ment to a good and a sensible woman. 
 By the time I had reached the age 
 of thu'ty-five, I had done what neither of
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 7 
 
 my brothers had done before me — I had 
 married. 
 
 As a single man, my own small inde- 
 pendence, aided by what little additions to it 
 I could pick up with my pen, had been suffi- 
 cient for my wants. But with marriage and 
 its responsibilities came the necessity for 
 serious exertion. I returned to my neglected 
 studies, and grappled resolutely, this time, 
 with the intricate difficulties of the law. I 
 was called to the Bar. My wife's father 
 aided me with his interest, and I started into 
 practice, without difficulty and without delay. 
 
 For the next twenty years my married life 
 was a scene of happiness and prosperity, 
 on which I now look back with a grateful 
 tenderness that no words of mine can 
 express. The memory of my wife is busy 
 at my heart, while I think of those past 
 times. The forgotten tears rise in my eyes
 
 8 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 again, and trouble the course of my pen, while 
 it traces these simple lines. 
 
 Let me pass rapidly over the one un- 
 speakable misery of my life ; let me try to 
 remember now, as I tried to remember then, 
 that she lived to see our only child, our 
 son, who was so good to her, who is still so 
 good to me, grow up to manhood ; that her 
 head lay on my bosom when she died ; and 
 that the last frail movement of her hand, in 
 this world, was the movement that brought it 
 closer to her boy's lips. 
 
 I bore the blow — with God's help I bore 
 it, and bear it still. But it struck me away 
 for ever from my hold on social life ; from the 
 purposes and pursuits, the companions and the 
 pleasures of twenty years, which her presence 
 had sanctioned and made dear to me. If my 
 son, George, had desired to follow my profes- 
 sion, I should still have struggled against my-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 9 
 
 self, and have kept my place in the world, 
 until I had seen him prosperous and settled. 
 But his choice led him to the army ; and 
 before his mother's death he had obtained his 
 commission, and had entered on his path in 
 life. No other responsibility remained to 
 claim from me the sacrifice of myself; my 
 brothers had made my place ready for me by 
 their fireside; my heart yearned, in its 
 desolation, for the friends and companions of 
 the old boyish days ; my good, brave son pro- 
 mised that no year should pass, as long as he 
 was in England, without his coming to cheer 
 me ; and so it happened that I, in my turn, 
 withdrew from the world, which had once 
 been a bright and a happy world to me, and 
 retired to end my days, peacefully, content- 
 edly, and gratefully, as my brothers are 
 ending theirs, in the solititude of The Glen 
 Tower.
 
 10 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 How many years have passed since we 
 have all three been united, it is not necessary 
 to relate. It will be more to the purpose, if 
 I briefly record, that we have never been 
 separated since the day which first saw us 
 assembled together in our hill-side retreat ; 
 that we have never yet wearied of the time, 
 of the place, or of ourselves ; and that the in- 
 fluence of solitude on our hearts and minds 
 has not altered them for the worse, for it has 
 not embittered us towards our fellow-crea- 
 tures, and it has not dried up in us the 
 sources from which harmless occupations and 
 innocent pleasures may flow refreshingly to 
 the last, over the waste places of human life. 
 Thus much for our own story, and for 
 the circumstances which have withdrawn us 
 from the world for the rest of our days. 
 
 And now imagine us three lonely old 
 men, tall, and lean, and white-headed;
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 11 
 
 dressed, more from past habit than from 
 present association, in customary suits of 
 solemn black. Brother Owen, yielding, 
 gentle, and affectionate in look, voice, 
 and manner. Brother Morgan, with a 
 quaint surface-sourness of address, and a 
 tone of dry sarcasm in his talk, which 
 single him out, on all occasions, as a 
 character in our little circle. Brother 
 Griffith, forming the link between his two 
 elder companions ; capable, at one time, 
 of sympathising with the quiet, thoughtful 
 tone of Owen's conversation, and ready at 
 another to exchange brisk severities on 
 life and manners with Morgan ; in short, 
 a pliable, double-sided old lawyer, who 
 stands between the clergyman-brother and 
 the physician-brother, with an ear ready 
 for each, and with a heart open to both, 
 share and share together.
 
 12 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Imagine the strange old building in 
 which we live to be really what its 
 name implies, a tower standing in a glen ; 
 in past times the fortress of a fighting 
 Welsh chieftain; in present times, a dreary 
 land-lighthouse, built up in many stories 
 of two rooms each, with a little modern 
 lean-to of cottage form, tacked on quaintly 
 to one of its sides ; the great hill, on 
 whose lowest slope it stands, rising pre- 
 cipitously behind it; a dark, swift-flowing 
 stream in the valley below; hills on hills 
 all round, and no way of approach but 
 by one of the loneliest and wildest cross- 
 roads in all South Wales. 
 
 Imagine such a place of abode as this, 
 and such inhabitants of it as ourselves; 
 and then, picture the descent among us — 
 as of a goddess dropping fi:'om the clouds — 
 of a lively, handsome, fashionable young lady
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 13 
 
 — a bright, gay, butterfly creature, used to 
 flutter away its existence in the broad 
 sunshine of perpetual gaiety — a child of 
 the new generation, with all the modern 
 ideas whirling together in her pretty head, 
 and all the modern accomplishments at the 
 tips of her delicate fingers. Imagine such 
 a light-hearted daughter of Eve as this, the 
 spoilt darling of society, the charming 
 spendthrift of Nature's choicest treasures of 
 beauty and youth, suddenly flashing into 
 the dim life of three weary old men — sud- 
 denly dropped into the place of all others 
 which is least fit for her — suddenly shut 
 out from the world in the lonely quiet of 
 the loneliest home in England. Kealise, if 
 it be possible, all that is most whimsical 
 and most anomalous in such a situation as 
 this; and the startling confession contained 
 in the opening sentence of these pages will
 
 14 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 no longer excite the faintest emotion of sur- 
 prise. Who can wonder now, when onr 
 bright young goddess really descended on 
 us, that I and my brothers were all three 
 at our wit's end what to do with her !
 
 15 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 OUR DILEMMA. 
 
 Who is the young lady? And how did she 
 find her way into The Glen Tower? 
 
 Her name (in relation to which I shall 
 have something more to say, a little farther 
 on) is Jessie Yelverton. She is an orphan, 
 and an only child. Her mother died while 
 she was an infant; her father was my 
 dear and valued friend, Major Yelverton.
 
 16 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 He lived long enough to celebrate his 
 darling's seventh birthday. When he died 
 he entrusted his authority over her, and 
 his responsibility towards her, to his brother 
 and to me. 
 
 When I was summoned to the reading of 
 the Major's will, 1 knew perfectly well that 
 I should hear myself appointed guardian 
 and executor with his brother; and I had 
 been also made acquainted with my lost 
 friend's wishes as to his daughter's educa- 
 tion, and with his intentions as to the dis- 
 posal of all his property in her favour. 
 My own idea, therefore, was, that the 
 reading of the will would inform me of 
 nothing which I had not known in the 
 testator's lifetime. When the day came for 
 hearing it, however, I found that I had 
 been over hasty in arriving at this conclu- 
 sion. Towards the end of the document
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 17 
 
 there was a clause inserted, which took me 
 entirely by surprise. 
 
 After providing for the education of Miss 
 Yelverton, under the direction of her guar- 
 dians, and for her residence, under ordinary 
 circumstances, with the Major's sister, Lady 
 Westwick, the clause concluded by saddling 
 the child's future inheritance with this curious 
 condition :— 
 
 From the period of her leaving school 
 to the period of her reaching the age of 
 twenty-one years, Miss Yelverton was to 
 pass not less than six consecutive weeks, 
 out of every year, under the roof of one 
 of her two guardians. During the lives 
 of both of them, it was left to her own 
 choice to say which of the two she would 
 prefer to live with. In all other respects, 
 the condition was imperative. If she for- 
 feited it, excepting, of course, the case of 
 
 VOL. I. - C
 
 18 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 the deaths of both her guardians, she was 
 only to have a life-interest in the property. 
 If she obeyed it, the money itself was 
 to become her own possession, on the day 
 when she completed her twenty-first year. 
 This clause in the will, as I have said, 
 took me at first by surprise. I remem- 
 bered how devotedly Lady Westwick had 
 soothed her sister -in-law^s death-bed suffer- 
 ings, and how tenderly she had afterwards 
 watched over the welfare of the little 
 motherless child; — I remembered the innu- 
 merable claims she had established, in this 
 way, on her brother's confidence in her 
 affection for his orphan daughter — and I 
 was, therefore, naturally amazed at the 
 appearance of a condition in his will, which 
 seemed to show a positive distrust of Lady 
 Westwick's undivided influence over the 
 character and conduct of her niece.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 19 
 
 A few words from mj fellow-guardian, 
 Mr. Eichard Yelverton, and a little after- 
 consideration of some of my deceased 
 friend's peculiarities of disposition and feel- 
 ing, to which I had not hitherto attached 
 sufficient importance, were enough to make 
 me understand the motives by which he 
 had been influenced in providing for the 
 future of his child. 
 
 Major Yelverton had raised himself to a 
 position of affluence and eminence from a 
 very humble origin. He was the son of 
 a small farmer, and it was his pride never 
 to forget this circumstance, never to be 
 ashamed of it, and never to allow the pre- 
 judices of society to influence his own settled 
 opinions on social questions in general. 
 
 Acting, in all that related to his inter- 
 course with the world, on such principles 
 as these, the Major, it is hardly neces- 
 
 c2
 
 20 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 sary to say, held some strangely heterodox 
 opinions on the modern education of girls, 
 and on the evil influence of society over 
 the characters of women in general. Out 
 of the strength of those opinions, and out 
 of the certainty of his conviction that his 
 sister did not share them, had grown that 
 condition in his will, which removed his 
 daughter from the influence of her aunt for 
 six consecutive weeks in every year. Lady 
 Westwick was the most light-hearted, the 
 most generous, the most impulsive of women ; 
 capable, when any serious occasion called ^ 
 it forth, of all that was devoted and self-sacri- 
 ficing, but, at other and ordinary times, con- 
 stitutionally restless, frivolous, and eager for 
 perpetual gaiety. Distrusting the sort of life 
 which he knew his daughter would lead under 
 her aunt's roof, and at the same time gratefully 
 remembering his sister's affectionate devo-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 21 
 
 tion towards his dying wife and her help- 
 less infant; Major Yelverton had attempted 
 to make a compromise, which, while it 
 allowed Lady Westwick the close domestic 
 intercourse with her niece that she had 
 earned by innumerable kind offices, should, 
 at the same time, place the young gul for a 
 fixed period of every year of her minority 
 under the corrective care of two such quiet 
 old-fashioned guardians as his brother and 
 myself. Such is the history of the clause in 
 the will. My Mend little thought, when he 
 dictated it, of the extraordinary result to 
 which it was one day to lead. 
 
 For some years, however, events ran on 
 smoothly enough. Little Jessie was sent to an 
 excellent school, with strict instructions to the 
 mistress to make a good girl of her, and not a 
 fashionable young lady. Although she was 
 reported to be anything but a pattern pupil in
 
 22 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 respect of attention to her lessons, she became, 
 from the first, the chosen favourite of everyone 
 about her. The very offences which she com- 
 mitted against the discipline of the school were 
 of the sort which provoke a smile even on the 
 stern countenance of authority itself. One of 
 these quaint freaks of mischief may not inap- 
 propriately be mentioned here, inasmuch as it 
 gained her the pretty nick-name under which 
 she will be found to appear occasionally in 
 these pages. 
 
 On a certain autumn night, shortly after 
 the midsummer vacation, the mistress of the 
 school fancied she saw a light under the door 
 of the bedroom occupied by Jessie and three 
 other girls. It was then close on midnight; 
 and fearing that some case of sudden illness 
 might have happened, she hastened into the 
 room. On opening the door, she discovered, 
 to her horror and amazement, that all four
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 23 
 
 girls were out of bed — were dressed in bril- 
 liantly-fantastic costumes, representing the 
 four grotesque "Queens" of Hearts, Diamonds, 
 Spades, and Clubs, familiar to us all on the 
 pack of cards — and were dancing a quadrille, 
 in which Jessie sustained the character of The 
 Queen of Hearts. The next morning^s inves- 
 tigation disclosed that Miss Yelverton had 
 smuggled the dresses into the school ; and had 
 amused herself bj giving an impromptu fancy 
 ball to her companions, in imitation of an 
 entertainment of the same kind, at which she 
 had figured in a " Court-card " quadrille at her 
 aunt's country house. 
 
 The dresses were instantly confiscated, and 
 the necessary punishment promptly adminis- 
 tered ; but the remembrance of Jessie's extra- 
 ordinary outrage on bedroom discipline lasted 
 long enough to become one of the traditions 
 of the school ; and she and her sister-culprits
 
 24 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 were thenceforth hailed as the " Queens '' of 
 the four "suits," by their class-companions, 
 whenever the mistress's back was turned. 
 Whatever might have become of the nick-names 
 thus employed, in relation to the other three 
 girls, such a mock title as The Queen of Hearts 
 was too appropriately descriptive of the natural 
 charm of Jessie's character, as well as of the 
 adventure in which she had taken the lead, 
 not to rise naturally to the lips of everyone 
 who knew her. It followed her to her aunt's 
 house — it came to be as habitually and fami- 
 liarly connected with her, among her friends 
 of all ages, as if it had been formally inscribed 
 on her baptismal register — and it has stolen 
 its way into these pages because it falls from 
 my pen naturally and inevitably, exactly as it 
 often falls from my lips in real life. 
 
 When Jessie left school, the first difficulty 
 presented itself — in other words, the necessity
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 25 
 
 arose of fulfilling the conditions of the will. 
 At that time, I was already settled at The 
 Glen Tower ; and her living six weeks in our 
 dismal solitude and our humdrum society, was, 
 as she herself frankly wrote me word, quite 
 out of the question. Fortunately, she had 
 always got on well with her uncle and his 
 family. So she exerted her liberty of choice ; 
 and, much to her own relief and to mine also, 
 passed her regular six weeks of probation, 
 year after year, under Mr Eichard Yelverton's 
 roof 
 
 During this period, I heard of her regu- 
 larly ; sometimes from my fellow-guardian ; 
 sometimes from my son George, who, when- 
 ever his military duties allowed him the op- 
 portunity, contrived to see her ; now at her 
 aunt^s house, and now at Mr. Yelverton's. 
 The particulars of her character and conduct, 
 which I gleaned in this way, more than
 
 26 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 sufficed to convince me that the poor Major's 
 plan for the careful training of his daughter's 
 disposition, though plausible enough in theory, 
 was little better than a total failure in 
 practice. Miss Jessie, to use the expressive 
 common phrase, took after her aunt. She 
 was as generous, as impulsive, as light- 
 hearted, as fond of change and gaiety and 
 fine clothes — in short, as complete and 
 genuine a woman as Lady Westwick herself 
 It was impossible to reform the " Queen of 
 Hearts," and equally impossible not to love 
 her. Such, in few words, was my fellow- 
 guardian's report of his experience of our 
 handsome young ward. 
 
 So the time passed till the year came of 
 which I am now writing — the ever-memorable 
 year, to England, of the Kussian war. It 
 happened that I had heard less than usual 
 at this period, and indeed for many months
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. ' 27 
 
 before it, of Jessie and her proceedings. 
 My son had been ordered out with his regiment 
 to the Crimea, in 1854, and had other work 
 in hand now than recording the sayings and 
 doings of a young lady. Mr. Richard Yel- 
 verton, who had been hitherto used to write 
 to me with tolerable regularity, seemed now, 
 for some reason that I could not conjecture, 
 to have forgotten my existence. Ultimately, I 
 was reminded of my ward by one of George's 
 own letters, in which he asked for news of her ; 
 and I wrote at once to Mr. Yelverton. The 
 answer that reached me was written by his 
 wife — he was dangerously ill. The next 
 letter that came informed me of his death. 
 This happened early in the spring of the 
 year 1855. 
 
 I am ashamed to confess it, but the change 
 in my own position was the first idea that 
 crossed my mind when I read the news of
 
 28 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Mr. Yelverton's death. I was now left sole 
 guardian ; and Jessie Yelverton wanted a year 
 still of coming of age. 
 
 By the next day's post I wrote to her 
 about the altered state of the relations 
 between us. She was then on the Continent 
 with her aunt, having gone abroad at the 
 very beginning of the year. Consequently, 
 so far as eighteen hundred and fifty-five was 
 concerned, the condition exacted by the will 
 yet remained to be performed. She had still 
 six weeks to pass — her last six weeks, seeing 
 that she was now twenty years old — under 
 the roof of one of her guardians. And I was 
 now, the only guardian left ! 
 
 In due course of time I received my 
 answer, written on rose-coloured paper, and 
 expressed throughout in a tone of light, 
 easy, feminine banter, which amused me in 
 spite of myself Miss Jessie, according
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 29 
 
 to her own account, was hesitating, on receipt 
 of my letter, between two alternatives — the 
 one, of allowing herself to be buried six 
 weeks in The Glen Tower ; the other of 
 breaking the condition, giving up the 
 money, and remaining magnanimously con- 
 tented with nothing but a life-interest in her 
 father's property. At present she inclined 
 decidedly towards giving up the money, and 
 escaping the clutches of ^^the three horrid 
 old men ; " but she would let me know 
 again, if she happened to change her 
 mind. And so with best love, she would beg 
 to remain, always affectionately mine — as long 
 as she was well out of my reach. 
 
 The summer passed ; the autumn came — 
 and I never heard from her again. Under 
 ordinary circumstances, this long silence might 
 have made me feel a little uneasy. But news 
 reached me about this time, from the Crimea,
 
 30 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 that my son was wounded — not dangerously, 
 thank God, but still severely enough to be laid 
 up — and all my anxieties were now centred 
 in that direction. By the beginning of Sep- 
 tember, however, I got better accounts of him, 
 and my mind was made easy enough to let 
 me think of Jessie again. Just as I 
 was considering the necessity of writing once 
 more to my refractory ward, a second letter 
 arrived from her. She had returned at last 
 from abroad, had suddenly changed her mind, 
 suddenly grown sick of society, suddenly be- 
 come enamoured of the pleasures of retire- 
 ment, and suddenly found out that the three 
 horrid old men were three dear old men, and 
 that six weeks' solitude at The Glen Tower 
 was the luxury of all others that she lan- 
 guished for most. As a necessary result of 
 this altered state of things, she would there- 
 fore now propose to spend her allotted six
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEAETS. 31 
 
 weeks with her guardian. We might certainly 
 expect her on the twentieth of September ; 
 and she would take the greatest care to fit 
 herself for our society, by arriving in 
 the lowest possible spirits, and bringing 
 her own sackcloth and ashes along with 
 her. 
 
 The first ordeal to which this alarming 
 letter forced me to submit, was the breaking 
 of the news it contained to my two brothers. 
 The disclosure afiected them very difierently. 
 Poor dear Owen merely turned pale, lifted his 
 weak thin hands in a panic-stricken manner, 
 and then sat staring at me in speechless and 
 motionless bewilderment. Morgan stood up 
 straight before me, plunged both his hands 
 into his pockets, burst suddenly into the 
 harshest laugh I ever heard from his lips, 
 and told me, with an air of triumph, that 
 it was exactly what he expected.
 
 32 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 '^ What you expected ? " I repeated in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 " Yes," returned Morgan with his bitterest 
 emphasis. " It doesn't surprise me in the 
 least. It's the way things go in this world — 
 it's the regular moral see-saw of good and 
 evil — the old story, with the old end to it. 
 They were too happy in the garden of Eden — 
 down comes the serpent, and turns them out. 
 Solomon was too wise — down comes the 
 Queen of Sheba, and makes a fool of him. 
 We've been too comfortable at The Glen 
 Tower — down comes a woman and sets us all 
 three by the ears together. What are 
 you both staring at ? I tell you again, 
 this mess of ours is in the established order of 
 things. All I wonder at is, that it hasn't 
 happened before." With those words, Morgan 
 resignedly put on his hat, and turned to the 
 door.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 33 
 
 "You're not going away before she comes !" 
 exclaimed Owen, piteously. " Don't leave us 
 — please don't leave us ! " 
 
 " Going ! " cried Morgan, with great con- 
 tempt. " What should I gain by that ? When 
 destiny has found a man out, and heated his 
 gridiron for him, he has nothing left to do 
 that I know of but to get up and sit on it." 
 
 I opened my lips to protest against the im- 
 plied comparison between a young lady and a 
 hot gridiron, but, before I could speak, Morgan 
 was gone. 
 
 " Well," I said to Owen, " we must make 
 the best of it. We must brush up our man- 
 ners, and set the house tidy, and amuse her 
 as well as we can. The difficulty is where to 
 put her — and when that is settled, the next 
 puzzle will be, what to order in to make her 
 comfortable. It's a hard thing, brother, to 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 say what will, or what will not, please a 
 young lady's taste." 
 
 Owen looked absently at me, in greater 
 bewilderment than ever — opened his eyes 
 in perplexed consideration — repeated to 
 himself slowly the word "tastes" — and then 
 helped me with this suggestion : — 
 
 " Hadn't we better begin, Griffith, by get- 
 ting her a plum-cake ? " 
 
 *^My dear Owen!" I remonstrated, "it is 
 a grown young woman who is coming to 
 see us, not a little girl from school." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Owen, more confused than 
 before. " Yes — I see ; we couldn't do 
 wrong, I suppose — could we? — if we got 
 her a little dog, and a lot of new 
 gowns." 
 
 There was, evidently, no more help in the 
 way of advice to be expected from Owen 
 than from Morgan himself. As I came
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 35 
 
 to that conclusion, I saw through the 
 window our old housekeeper on her way, 
 with her basket, to the kitchen-garden ; 
 and left the room to ascertain if she could 
 assist us. 
 
 To my great dismay, the housekeeper 
 took even a more gloomy view than Morgan 
 of the approaching event. When I had ex- 
 plained all the circumstances to her, she 
 carefully put down her basket, crossed her 
 arms, and said to me in slow, deliberate, 
 mysterious tones, — 
 
 "You want my advice about what's 
 to be done with this young woman ? 
 Well, sir, here's my advice : — Don't you 
 trouble your head about her. It won't 
 be no use. Mind, I tell you, it won't 
 be no use ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "You look at this place, sir, — it's more 
 
 d2
 
 36 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 like a prison than a house, isn't it ? 
 You look at us, as lives in it. We've 
 got (saving your presence) a foot a-piece 
 in our graves, haven't we? When you 
 was young yourself, sir, what would you 
 have done if they had shut you up for six 
 weeks in such a place as this, among youi' 
 grandfathers and grandmothers with their 
 feet in the grave ? " 
 ^^ I really can't say." 
 " I can, sir. You'd have run away. 
 She^ll run away. Don't you worry your 
 head about her — she'll save you the trouble. 
 I tell you again she'll run away." 
 
 With those ominous words, the house- 
 keeper took up her basket, sighed heavily, 
 and left me. 
 
 I sat down under a tree, quite helpless. 
 Here was the whole responsibility shifted 
 upon my miserable shoulders. Xot a lady
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 37 
 
 in the neighbourhood to whom I could 
 apply for assistance — and the nearest shop 
 eight miles distant from us. The toughest 
 case I ever had to conduct, when I was at 
 the Bar, was plain sailing compared with the 
 difficulty of entertaining our fair guest. 
 
 It was absolutely necessary, however, to 
 decide at once where she was to sleep. 
 All the rooms in the tower were of stone, 
 — dark, gloomy, and cold even in the 
 summer-time. Impossible to put her in any 
 one of them. The only other alternative 
 was to lodge her in the little modern lean- 
 to, which I have already described as being 
 tacked on to the side of the old building. 
 It contained three cottage-rooms, and they 
 might be made barely habitable for a young 
 lady. But then those rooms were occupied 
 by Morgan. His books were in one, his 
 bed was in another, his pipes and general
 
 38 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 lumber were in the third. Could I expect 
 him, after the sour similitudes he had used 
 in reference to our expected visitor, to turn 
 out of his habitation, and disarrange all his 
 habits, for her convenience ? The bare 
 idea of proposing the thing to him seemed 
 ridiculous. And yet, inexorable necessity 
 left me no choice but to make the hope- 
 less experiment. I walked back to the 
 tower hastily and desperately, to face the 
 worst that might happen before my courage 
 cooled altogether. 
 
 On crossing the threshold of the hall- 
 door, I was stopped, to my great amazement, 
 by a processson of three of the farm- 
 servants followed by Morgan, all walking 
 after each other in Indian file, towards the 
 the spiral staircase that led to the top of 
 the tower. The first of the servants carried 
 the materials for making a fire ; the second
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 39 
 
 bore an inverted arm-chair on his head; 
 the third tottered under a heavy load of 
 books; while Morgan came last, with his 
 canister of tobacco in his hand, his dressing- 
 gown over his shoulders, and his whole 
 collection of pipes hugged up together in a 
 bundle under his arm. 
 
 " What on earth does this mean ? " I 
 enquired. 
 
 " It means taking Time by the forelock," 
 answered Morgan, looking at me with a 
 smile of sour satisfaction. ^Tve got the 
 start of your young woman, Griffith ; and I'm 
 making the most of it." 
 
 "But where, in Heaven's name, are you 
 going?" I asked, as the headman of the 
 procession disappeared with his firing up the 
 staircase. 
 
 " How high is this tower ? " retorted 
 Morgan.
 
 40 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 ^^ Seven stories, to be sure," I replied. 
 
 *^Very good," said my eccentric brother, 
 setting his foot on the first stair, " I'm going 
 up to the seventh." 
 
 "You can%" I shouted. 
 
 ^^ She can't, you mean," said Morgan, "and 
 that's exactly why I'm going there." 
 
 " But the room is not furnished." 
 
 "It's out of her reach." 
 
 " One of the windows has fallen to 
 pieces." 
 
 "It's out of her reach." 
 
 "There's a crow's nest in the corner." 
 
 "It's out of her reach." 
 
 By the time this unanswerable argument 
 had attained its third repetition, Morgan, 
 in his turn, had disappeared up the wind- 
 ing stairs. I knew him too well to attempt 
 any further protest. 
 
 Here was my first difficulty smoothed
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 41 
 
 away most unexpectedly ; for here were the 
 rooms in the lean-to placed by their owner's 
 free act and deed at my disposal. I wrote 
 on the spot to the one upholsterer of our 
 distant county town to come immediately and 
 survey the premises ; and sent off a mounted 
 messenger with the letter. This done, and 
 the necessary order also despatched to the car- 
 penter and glazier to set them at work on 
 Morgan's sky-parlour in the seventh story, I 
 began to feel, for the first time, as if my 
 scattered wits were coming back to me. 
 By the time the evening had closed in, I 
 had hit on no less than three excellent 
 ideas, all providing for the future comfort 
 and amusement of our fair guest. The 
 first idea was to get her a Welsh pony ; 
 the second was to hire a piano from the 
 county town ; the third was to send for a 
 boxful of novels from London. I must
 
 42 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 confess I thought these projects for pleas- 
 ing her very happily conceived; and Owen 
 agreed with me. Morgan, as usual, took 
 the opposite view. He said she would yawn 
 over the novels, turn up her nose at the 
 piano, and fracture her skull with the pony. 
 As for the housekeeper, she stuck to her 
 text as stoutly in the evening as she had 
 stuck to it in the morning. ^^ Pianner or 
 no pianner ; story-book or no story-book ; 
 pony or no pony, you mark my words, sir 
 — that young woman will run away." 
 
 Such were the housekeeper's parting words 
 when she wished me good night. 
 
 When the next morning came, and brought 
 with it that terrible waking time which 
 sets a man's hopes and projects before him, 
 the great as well as the small, stripped 
 bare of every illusion, it is not to be con- 
 cealed that I felt less sanguine of our
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 43 
 
 success in entertaining the coming guest. 
 So far as external preparations were con- 
 cerned, there seemed, indeed, but little to 
 improve. But, apart from these, what had 
 we to offer in ourselves and our society 
 to attract her? There lay the knotty point 
 of the question, and there the grand diffi- 
 culty of finding an answer. 
 
 I fall into serious reflection, while I 
 am dressing, on the pursuits and occupa- 
 tions with which we three brothers have 
 been accustomed, for years past, to beguile 
 the time. Are they at all likely, in the case 
 of any one of us, to interest or amuse her ? 
 
 My chief occupation, to begin with the 
 youngest, consists in acting as steward on 
 Owen's property. The routine of my duties 
 has never lost its sober attraction to my 
 tastes, for it has always employed me in watch- 
 ing the best interests of my brother, and
 
 44 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 of my son also, who is one day to be his 
 heir. But can I expect our visitor to 
 sympathize with such family concerns as 
 these? Clearly not. 
 
 Morgan's pursuit comes next in order of 
 review — a pursuit of a far more ambitious 
 nature than mine. It was always part of my 
 second brother's whimsical, self- contradictory 
 character to view with the profoundest con- 
 tempt the learned profession by which he 
 gained his livelihood ; and he is now occupy- 
 ing the long leisure hours of his old age in 
 composing a voluminous treatise, intended, 
 one of these days, to eject the whole body cor- 
 porate of doctors from the position which they 
 have usurped in the estimation of their fellow- 
 creatures. This daring work is entitled ^' An 
 Examination of the Claims of Medicine on 
 the gratitude of Mankind. Decided in the 
 Negative, by a Eetired Physician." So far
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 45 
 
 as I can tell, the book is likely to extend 
 to the dimensions of an Encyclopsedia ; for it 
 is Morgan's plan to treat his comprehensive 
 subject principally from the historical point of 
 view, and to run down all the doctors of 
 antiquity, one after another, in regular suc- 
 cession from the first of the tribe. When I 
 last heard of his progress, he was hard on the 
 heels of Hippocrates, but had no immediate 
 prospect of tripping up his successor. Is this 
 the sort of occupation, I ask myself, in which 
 a modern young lady is likely to feel the 
 shghtest interest ? Once again, clearly 
 not. 
 
 Owen's favourite employment is, in its way, 
 quite as characteristic as Morgan's ; and it 
 has the great additional advantage of appeal- 
 ing to a much larger variety of tastes. My 
 eldest brother — great at drawing and paint- 
 ing when he was a lad, always interested in
 
 46 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 artists and their works in after life — has 
 resumed, in his declining years, the holiday 
 occupation of his school-boy days. As an 
 amateur landscape painter, he works with 
 more satisfaction to himself, uses more 
 colour, wears out more brushes, and makes 
 a greater smell of paint in his studio, than 
 any artist by profession, native or foreign, 
 whom I ever met with. In look, in manner, 
 and in disposition, the gentlest of mankind, 
 Owen, by some singular anomaly in his 
 character, which he seems to have caught 
 from Morgan, glories placidly in the wildest 
 and most frightful range of subjects which 
 his art is capable of representing. Immeas- 
 urable ruins, in howling wildernesses, with 
 blood-red sunsets gleaming over them ; 
 thunder- clouds rent with lightning, hovering 
 over splitting trees on the verges of awful 
 precipices ; hurricanes, shipwrecks, waves,
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 47 
 
 and whirlpools follow each other on his 
 canvas, without an intervening glimpse of 
 quiet everyday nature to relieve the suc- 
 cession of pictorial horrors. When I see him 
 at his easel, so neat and quiet, so unpretend- 
 ing and modest in himself, with such a com- 
 posed expression on his attentive face, with 
 such a weak white hand to guide such bold 
 big brushes, and when I look at the frightful 
 canvasful of terrors which he is serenely 
 aggravating in fierceness and intensity with 
 every successive touch, I find it difficult to 
 realise the connection between my brother and 
 his work, though I see them before me, not 
 six inches apart. Will this quaint spectacle 
 possess any humorous attractions for Miss 
 Jessie? Perhaps it may. There is some 
 slight chance that Owen's employment will be 
 lucky enough to interest her. 
 
 Thus far my morning cogitations advance.
 
 48 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 doubtfully enough ; but they altogether fail 
 in carrying me beyond the narrow circle of 
 The Glen Tower. I try hard, in our visitor's 
 interests, to look into the resources of the 
 little world around us ; and I tind my efforts 
 rewarded by the prospect of a total blank. 
 
 Is there any presentable living soul in the 
 neighbourhood whom we can invite to meet 
 her? Not one. There are, as I have 
 already said, no country seats near us ; 
 and society in the county-town has long since 
 learnt to regard us as three misanthropes, 
 strongly suspected, from our monastic way of 
 life, and our dismal black costume, of being 
 Popish priests in disguise. In other parts of 
 England, the clergyman of the parish might 
 help us out of our difficulty. But here, in 
 South Wales, and in this latter half of the 
 nineteenth century, we have the old type- 
 parson of the days of Fielding still in a state
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 49 
 
 of perfect preservation. Our local clergyman 
 receives a stipend which is too paltry to bear 
 comparison with the wages of an ordinary 
 mechanic. In dress, manners, and tastes, he 
 is about on a level with the upper class of 
 agricultural labourers. When attempts have 
 been made by well-meaning gentlefolks to 
 recognize the claims of his profession, by 
 asking him to their houses, he has been 
 known, on more than one occasion, to leave 
 his ploughman's pair of shoes in the hall, and 
 to enter the drawing-room respectfully in his 
 stockings. Where he preaches, miles and 
 miles away from us and from the poor 
 cottage in which he lives, if he sees any of the 
 company in the squire's pew yawn, or 
 fidget in their places, he takes it as a hint 
 that they are tired of listening, and closes his 
 sermon instantly at the end of the sentence. 
 Can we ask this most irreverend and unclerical 
 VOL. I. £
 
 50 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 of men to meet a young lady ? I doubt, 
 even if we made the attempt, whether we 
 should succeed, by fair means, in getting him 
 beyond the servants' hall. 
 
 Dismissing, therefore, all idea of inviting 
 visitors to entertain our guest ; and feeling, 
 at the same time, more than doubtful of her 
 chance of discovering any attraction in the 
 sober society of the inmates of the house, I 
 finish my dressing and go down to breakfast, 
 secretly veering round to the housekeeper's 
 opinion, that Miss Jessie will really bring 
 matters to an abrupt conclusion by running 
 away. I find Morgan as bitterly resigned to 
 his destiny as ever ; and Owen so affection- 
 ately anxious to make himself of some use, 
 and so lamentably ignorant of how to begin, 
 that I am driven to disembarrass myself of 
 him at the outset by a stratagem. 
 
 I suggest to him that our visitor is sure to
 
 -^,. 
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 51 
 
 be interested in pictures, and that it would 
 be a pretty attention, on his part, to paint 
 her a landscape to hang up in her room. 
 Owen brightens directly, informs me in his 
 softest tones that he is then at work on the 
 Earthquake at Lisbon, and enqukes whether 
 I think she would like that subject. I pre- 
 serve my gravity sufficiently to answer in the 
 affirmative ; and my brother retires meekly 
 to his studio, to depict the engulphing of a 
 city, and the destruction of a population. 
 Morgan withdraws, in his turn, to the top of 
 the tower, threatening, when our guest comes, 
 to draw all his meals up to his new resi- 
 dence by means of a basket and string. I 
 am left alone for an hour; and then the 
 upholsterer arrives from the county town. 
 
 This worthy man, on being informed of our 
 emergency, sees his way, apparently, to a 
 good stroke of business ; and thereupon wins 
 
 e2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY DF 11 irNOIS
 
 52 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 my lasting gratitude by taking, in opposi- 
 tion to everyone else, a bright and hopeful 
 view of existing circumstances. 
 
 "You'll excuse me, sir,'' he says, con- 
 fidentially, when I show him the rooms 
 in the lean-to, "but this is a matter of 
 experience. I'm a family man, myself, 
 with grown-up daughters of my own; and 
 the natures of young women are well known 
 to me. Make their rooms comfortable, 
 and you make 'em happy. Surround their 
 lives, sir, with a suitable atmosphere of furni- 
 ture, and you never hear a word of complaint 
 drop from their lips. Now, with regard to 
 these rooms, for example, sir. You put a 
 neat French bedstead in that corner, with 
 curtains conformable — say, a tasty chintz. 
 You put on that bedstead what I will term a 
 sufficiency of bedding ; and you top up with 
 a sweet little eider-down quilt, as light as
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 53 
 
 roses, and similar the same in colour. You do 
 that, and what follows ? You please her eye 
 when she lies down at night, and you please 
 her eye when she gets up in the morning — 
 and you're all right so far, and so is she, I 
 will not dwell, sir, on the toilet-table, nor will 
 I seek to detain you about the glass to 
 show her figure, and the other glass to show 
 her face, because I have the articles in stock, 
 and will be myself answerable for their effect 
 on a lady's mind and person." 
 
 He led the way into the next room as he 
 spoke, and arranged its future fittings and 
 decorations, as he had already planned out 
 the bed-room, with the strictest reference to 
 the connexion which experience had shown 
 him to exist between comfortable furniture 
 and female happiness. 
 
 Thus far, in my helpless state of mind, the 
 man's confidence had impressed me, in spite
 
 54 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 of myself, and I had listened to him in 
 superstitious silence. But as he continued 
 to rise, by regular gradations, from one cli- 
 max of upholstery to another, warning visions 
 of his bill disclosed themselves in the remote 
 background of the scene of luxury and mag- 
 nificence which my friend was conjuring up. 
 Certain sharp professional instincts of bygone 
 times resumed their influence over me ; I 
 began to start doubts and ask questions ; and 
 as a necessary consequence, the interview 
 between us soon assumed something like a 
 practical form. 
 
 Having ascertained what the probable ex- 
 pense of furnishing would amount to ; and 
 having discovered that the process of trans- 
 forming the lean-to (allowing for the time 
 required to procure certain articles of 
 rarity from Bristol) would occupy nearly a 
 fortnight, I dismissed the upholsterer, with
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 55 
 
 the understanding that I should take a day or 
 two for consideration, and let him know the 
 result. It was then the fifth of September, 
 and our Queen of Hearts was to arrive on 
 the twentieth. The work, therefore, if it 
 was begun on the seventh or eighth, would 
 be begun in time. 
 
 In making all my calculations with a re- 
 ference to the twentieth of September, I 
 relied implicitly, it will be observed, on a 
 young lady's punctuality in keeping an 
 appointment which she had herself made. 
 I can only account for such extraordinary 
 simplicity on my part, on the supposition 
 that my wits had become sadly rusted by 
 long seclusion from society. Whether it 
 was referable to this cause or not, my in- 
 nocent trustfulness was at any rate destined 
 to be practically rebuked before long, in 
 the most surprising manner. Little did I
 
 5Q THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 suspect, when I parted from the upholsterer 
 on the fifth of the month, what the 
 tenth of the month had in store for me. 
 
 On the seventh I made up my mind to 
 have the bedroom furnished at once, and 
 to postpone the question of the sitting- 
 room for a few days longer. Having de- 
 spatched the necessary order to that effect, 
 I next wrote to hire the piano, and to order 
 the box of novels. This done, I congra- 
 tulated myself on the forward state of the 
 preparations, and sat down to repose in the 
 atmosphere of my own happy delusions. 
 
 On the ninth the waggon arrived with 
 the furniture, and the men set to work on 
 the bedroom. From this moment Morgan 
 retired definitely to the top of the tower, 
 and Owen became too nervous to lay the 
 necessary amount of paint on the Earth- 
 quake at Lisbon.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 57 
 
 On the tenth the work was proceeding 
 bravely. Towards noon, Owen and I strolled 
 to the door to enjoy the fine autumn sun- 
 shine. We were sitting lazily on our fa- 
 vourite bench, in front of the tower, when we 
 were startled by a shout from far above us. 
 Looking up directly, we saw Morgan half in 
 and half out of his narrow window in the 
 seventh story, gesticulating violently with 
 the stem of his long meerschaum pipe in 
 the direction of the road below us. 
 
 We gazed eagerly in the quarter thus in- 
 dicated, but our low position prevented us 
 for some time from seeing anything. At 
 last we both discerned an old yellow post- 
 chaise, distinctly and indisputably approach- 
 ing us. 
 
 Owen and I looked at one another in 
 panic-stricken silence. It was coming to us 
 — and what did it contain ? Do pianos travel
 
 58 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 in chaises ? Are boxes of novels conveyed to 
 their destination by a postilion? We ex- 
 pected the piano and expected the novels, 
 but nothing else, unquestionably nothing 
 else. 
 
 The chaise took the turn in the road, 
 passed through the gateless gap in our 
 rough enclosure -wall of loose stone, and 
 rapidly approached us. A bonnet appeared 
 at the window, and a hand gaily waved a 
 white handkerchief. 
 
 Powers of caprice, confusion, and dismay ! 
 It was Jessie Yelverton herself — arriving, 
 without a word of warning, exactly ten 
 days before her time.
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OUR QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 The chaise stopped in front of us, and before 
 we had recovered from our bewilderment, 
 the gardener had opened the door and let 
 down the steps. 
 
 A bright laughing face, prettily framed 
 round by a black veil, passed over the head, 
 and tied under the chin — a travelling-dress 
 of a nankeen colour, studded with blue 
 buttons, and trimmed with white braid — a 
 light brown cloak over it — little neatly-
 
 60 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 gloved hands, whicli seized in an instant 
 on one of mine and on one of Owen's — two 
 dark blue eyes which seemed to look us 
 both through and through in a moment — 
 a clear, full, merrily confident voice — a look 
 and manner gaily and gracefully self-pos- 
 sessed : such were the characteristics of 
 our fair guest which first struck me at the 
 moment when she left the post-chaise and 
 possessed herself of my hand. 
 
 "Don't begin by scolding me," she said, 
 before I could utter a word of welcome. 
 " There will be time enough for that in 
 the course of the next six weeks. I beg 
 pardon, with all possible humility, for the 
 offence of coming ten days before my time. 
 Don't ask me to account for it, please. 
 If you do, I shall be obliged to confess 
 the truth. My dear sir, the fact is, this 
 is an act of impulse."
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 61 
 
 She paused, and looked us both in the 
 face, with a bright confidence in her own 
 flow of nonsense that was perfectly irresist- 
 ible. 
 
 '^ I must tell you all about it," she 
 ran on, leading the way to the bench, and 
 inviting us, by a little mock gesture of 
 supplication, to seat ourselves on either 
 side of her. " I feel so guilty till I've 
 told you. Dear me ! how nice this is ! 
 Here I am quite at home already. Isn't 
 it odd? Well, and how do you think it 
 happened? The morning before yesterday, 
 Matilda — there is Matilda, picking up my 
 bonnet from the bottom of that remarkably 
 musty carriage — Matilda came and woke 
 me, as usual ; and I hadn't an idea in 
 my head, I assure you, till she began to 
 brush my hair. Can you account for it — 
 I can't — but she seemed, somehow, to brush
 
 62 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 a sudden fancy for coming here into my 
 head? When I went down to breakfast, I 
 said to my aunt, 'Darling, I have an irre- 
 sistible impulse to go to Wales at once, in- 
 stead of waiting till the twentieth/ She made 
 all the necessary objections, poor dear, and 
 my impulse got stronger and stronger with 
 every one of them. ' I'm quite certain,' I 
 said, 'I shall never go at all, if I don't go 
 now.' ' In that case,' says my aunt, ' ring 
 the beU, and have your trunks packed. 
 Your whole future depends on your going; 
 and you terrify me so inexpressibly that I 
 shall be glad to get rid of you.' You 
 may not think it, to look at her — but 
 Matilda is a treasure ; and in three hours 
 more I was on the Great Western 
 Eailway. I have not the least idea how I 
 got here — except that the men helped me 
 everywhere. They are always such de-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 63 
 
 lightful creatures ! I have been casting 
 myself, and my maid, and ray trunks on 
 their tender mercies at every point in the 
 journey, and their polite attentions exceed 
 all belief. I slept at your horrid little 
 county town last night ; and the night 
 before I missed a steamer, or a train — 
 I forget which — and slept at Bristol; and 
 that's how I got here. And now I am 
 here, I ought to give my guardian a kiss 
 — oughtn't I ? Shall I call you Papa ? I 
 think I will. And shall I call you uncle, 
 sir, and give you a kiss, too ? We shall 
 come to it sooner or later — shan't we ? 
 — and we may as well begin at once, I 
 suppose." 
 
 Her fresh young lips touched my old 
 withered cheek first, and then Owen's ; a 
 soft momentary shadow of tenderness, that 
 was very pretty and becoming, passing
 
 64 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 quickly over the sunshine and gaiety of her 
 face, as she saluted us. The next moment 
 she was on her feet again, inquiring "who 
 the wonderful man was who built The Glen 
 Tower," and wanting to go all over it imme- 
 diately from top to bottom. 
 
 As we took her into the house, I made 
 the necessary apologies for the miserable 
 condition of the lean-to ; and assured her 
 that, ten days later, she would have found 
 it perfectly ready to receive her. She 
 whisked into the rooms — looked all round 
 them — whisked out again — declared she had 
 come to live in the old Tower, and not in 
 any modern addition to it; and flatly de- 
 clined to inhabit the lean-to on any terms 
 whatever. I opened my lips to state cer- 
 tain objections; but she slipped away in an 
 instant, and made straight for the Tower 
 staircase.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. Q5 
 
 '' Who lives here ? " she asked, calling down 
 to us, eagerly, from the first floor landing. 
 
 ^^ I do," said Owen, " but if you would 
 like me to move out — " 
 
 She was away up the second flight be- 
 fore he could say any more. The next sound 
 we heard, as we slowly followed her, was a 
 peremptory drumming against the room 
 door of the second story. 
 
 *^ Anybody here ? " we heard her ask 
 through the door. 
 
 I called up to her that under ordinary 
 circumstances I was there ; but that, 
 like Owen, I should be happy to move out, — 
 
 My polite ofier was cut short, as my 
 brother's had been. AVe heard more drum- 
 ming at the door of the third story. There 
 were two rooms here, also — one perfectly 
 empty — the other stocked with odds and 
 ends of clumsy, dismal, old-fashioned fur- 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 66 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 niture, for which we had no use ; and grimly 
 ornamented by a life-size basket figure sup- 
 porting a complete suit of armour in a sadly 
 rusty condition. When Owen and I got to 
 the third floor landing, the door was open; 
 Miss Jessie had taken possession of the 
 rooms ; and we found her on a chair, dust- 
 ing the man in armour with her cambric 
 pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 "I shall live here," she said, looking 
 round at us briskly, over her shoulder. 
 
 We both remonstrated — but it was quite 
 in vain. She told us that she had an im- 
 pulse to live with the man in armour : and 
 that she would have her way, or go back 
 immediately in the postchaise ; which we 
 pleased. Finding it impossible to move her, 
 we bargained that she should, at least, 
 allow the new bed, and the rest of the com- 
 fortable furniture in the lean-to, to be
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 67 
 
 moved up into the empty room for her 
 sleeping accommodation. She consented to 
 this condition ; protesting, however, to the 
 last, against being compelled to sleep in a 
 bed, because it was a modern conventionality, 
 out of all harmony with her place of residence 
 and her friend in armour. 
 
 Fortunately for the repose of Morgan, — 
 who, under other circumstances, would have 
 discovered, on the very first day, that his 
 airy retreat was by no means high enough 
 to place him out of Jessie's reach — 
 the idea of settling herself instantly, in 
 her new habitation, excluded every other 
 idea from the mind of our fair guest. She 
 pinned up the nankeen-coloured travelling- 
 dress in festoons all round her, on the 
 spot ; informed us that we were now about 
 to make acquaintance with her in the new 
 character of a woman of business ; and darted 
 
 f2
 
 68 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 down stairs, in mad high spirits, screaming 
 for Matilda and the trunks, like a child for 
 a set of new toys. The wholesome protest 
 of Nature against the artificial restraints of 
 modern life expressed itself in all that she 
 said, and in all that she did. She had never 
 known what it was to be happy before, because 
 she had never been allowed, until now, to do 
 anything for herself. She was down on her 
 knees, at one moment, blowing the fire, and 
 telling us that she felt like Cinderella : she 
 was up on a table, the next, attacking the 
 cobwebs with a long broom, and wishing she 
 had been born a housemaid. As for my un- 
 fortunate friend, the upholsterer, he was 
 levelled to the ranks at the first efibrt he 
 made to assume the command of the domes- 
 tic forces, in the furniture department. She 
 laughed at him, pushed him about, disputed 
 all his conclusions, altered all his arrange-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 69 
 
 ments, and ended by ordering half his bed- 
 room furniture to be taken back again, for 
 the one unanswerable reason that she meant 
 to do without it. 
 
 As evening approached, the scene pre- 
 sented by the two rooms became eccentric 
 to a pitch of absin'dity which is quite inde- 
 scribable. The grim ancient walls of the bed- 
 room had the liveliest modern dressing-gowns 
 and morning'Wrappers hanging all about 
 them. The man in armour had a collection 
 of smart little boots and shoes, dangling by 
 laces and ribbons round his iron legs. A 
 worm-eaten, steel-clasped casket, dragged out 
 of a corner, frowned on the upholsterer's 
 bran new toilette-table, and held a miscel- 
 laneous assortment of combs, hair-pins, and 
 brushes. Here stood a gloomy antique chair, 
 the patriarch of its tribe, whose arms of 
 blackened oak embraced a pair of perl new
 
 70 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 deal bonnet-boxes, not a fortnight old. There, 
 thrown down lightly on a rugged tapestry- 
 table-cover, the long labour of centuries 
 past, lay the brief delicate work of a week 
 ago, in the shape of silk and muslin dresses 
 turned inside out. In the midst of all these 
 confusions and contradictions. Miss Jessie 
 ranged to and fro, the active centre of the 
 whole scene of disorder, now singing at the 
 top of her voice, and now declaring, in her 
 light-hearted way, that one of us must 
 make up his mind to marry her immediately, 
 as she was determined to settle for the rest 
 of her life at The Glen Tower. 
 
 She followed up that announcement, when 
 we met at dinner, by inquiring if we quite 
 understood by this time, that she had left her 
 " company manners " in London ; and that 
 she meant to govern us all at her absolute 
 will &,nd pleasure, throughout the whole
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 71 
 
 period of her stay. Having thus provided, 
 at the outset, for the due recognition of her 
 authority by the household, generally and 
 individually ; having briskly planned out all 
 her own forthcoming occupations and amuse- 
 ments, over the wine and fruit at dessert; and 
 having positively settled, between her first 
 and second cups of tea, where our connec- 
 tion with them was to begin, and where it 
 was to end, she had actually succeeded, 
 when the time came to separate for the 
 night, in setting us as much at our 
 ease, and in making herself as completely a 
 necessary part of our household, as if she 
 had lived among us for years and years past. 
 Such was our first day's experience of 
 the formidable guest, whose anticipated 
 visit had so sorely and so absurdly discom- 
 posed us all. I could hardly believe that 
 I had actually wasted hours of precious
 
 72 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 time in worrying myself and everybody else 
 in the house about the best means of labo- 
 riously entertaining a lively high-spirited 
 girl, who was perfectly capable, without 
 an effort on her own part or on ours, 
 of entertaining herself. 
 
 Having upset every one of our calcula- 
 tions on the first day of her arrival, she 
 next falsified all our predictions before she 
 had been with us a week. Instead of 
 fi'acturing her skull with the pony, as 
 Morgan had prophesied, she sat the sturdy, 
 sure-footed, mischievous little brute as if 
 she were part and parcel of himself. With an 
 old waterproof cloak of mine on her 
 shoulders, with a broad-flapped Spanish 
 hat of Owen^s on her head, with a wild imp 
 of a Welsh boy following her as guide and 
 groom on a bare-backed pony, and with 
 one of the largest and ugliest cur-dogs in
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 73 
 
 England (which she had picked up, lost 
 and starved by the wayside) barking at her 
 heels, she scoured the country in all direc- 
 tions, and came back to dinner, as she 
 herself expressed it, ^' with the manners of 
 an Amazon, the complexion of a dairy- 
 maid, and the appetite of a wolf." 
 
 On days when incessant rain kept her 
 indoors, she amused herself with a new 
 freak. Making friends everywhere, as be- 
 came The Queen of Hearts, she even ingra- 
 tiated herself with the sour old housekeeper, 
 who had predicted so obstinately that she 
 was certain to run away. To the amaze- 
 ment of everybody in the house, she spent 
 hours in the kitchen, learning to make 
 puddings and pies, and trying all sorts of 
 receipts with very varying success, from an 
 antiquated cookery-book which she had 
 discovered at the back of my bookshelves.
 
 74 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 At other times, when I expected her to be 
 upstairs, languidly examining her finery, 
 and idly polishing her trinkets, I heard of 
 her in the stables, feeding the rabbits, and 
 talking to the raven, or found her in the 
 conservatory, fumigating the plants, and 
 half suffocating the gardener^ who was 
 trying to moderate her enthusiasm in the 
 production of smoke. 
 
 Instead of finding amusement, as we had 
 expected, in Owen's studio, she puckered 
 up her pretty face in grimaces of disgust 
 at the smell of paint in the room, and 
 declared that the horrors of the earthquake 
 at Lisbon made her feel hysterical. Instead 
 of showing a total want of interest in my 
 business occupations on the estate, she de- 
 stroyed my dignity as steward, by joining 
 me in my rounds on her pony, with her 
 vagabond retinue at her heels. Instead of
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 75 
 
 devouring the novels I had ordered for her, 
 she left them in the box, and put her feet 
 on it when she felt sleepy after a hard 
 day's riding. Instead of practising for hours 
 every evening at the piano, which I had 
 hired with such a firm conviction of her 
 using it, she showed us tricks on the 
 cards, taught us new games, initiated us 
 into the mysteries of dominoes, challenged 
 us with riddles, and even attempted to 
 stimulate us into acting charades — in short, 
 tried every evening amusement in the whole 
 category, except the amusement of music. 
 Every new aspect of her character was a 
 new surprise to us ; and every fresh occu- 
 pation that she chose was a fresh contra- 
 diction to our previous expectations. The 
 value of experience as a guide is unques- 
 tionable in many of the most important 
 affairs of life ; but, speaking for myself
 
 76 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 personally, I never understood the utter 
 futility of it, where a woman is concerned, 
 until I was brought into habits of daily 
 communication with our fair guest. 
 
 In her domestic relations with ourselvCvS, 
 she showed that exquisite nicety of dis- 
 crimination in studying our characters, 
 habits, and tastes, which comes by in- 
 stinct with women, and which even the 
 longest practice rarely teaches, in similar 
 perfection, to men. She saw, at a glance, 
 all the underlying tenderness and generosity 
 concealed beneath Owen's external shyness, 
 irresolution, and occasional reserve ; and, 
 from first to last, even in her gayest mo- 
 ments, there was always a certain quietly- 
 implied consideration — an easy, graceful, 
 delicate deference — in her manner towards 
 my eldest brother, which won upon me, 
 and upon him, every hour in the day.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEAETS. 77 
 
 With me, she was freer in her talk, quicker 
 in her actions, readier and bolder in all the 
 thousand little familiarities of our daily- 
 intercourse. When we met in the morning, 
 she always took Owen's hand, and waited till 
 he kissed her on the forehead. In my 
 case, she put both her hands on my shoul- 
 ders, raised herself on tiptoe, and saluted 
 me briskly on both cheeks in the foreign 
 way. She never differed in opinion with 
 Owen, without propitiating him first by some 
 little artful compliment in the way of an 
 excuse. She argued boldly with me, on 
 every subject under the sun, law and politics 
 included ; and, when I got the better of her, 
 never hesitated to stop me by putting her 
 hand on my lips, or by dragging me out 
 into the garden in the middle of a sen- 
 tence. 
 
 As for Morgan, she abandoned all restraint,
 
 78 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 in his case, on the second day of her sojourn 
 among us. She had asked after him as soon 
 as she was settled in her two rooms on the 
 third story ; had insisted on knowing why 
 he lived at the top of the tower, and why 
 he had not appeared to welcome her at the 
 door; had entrapped us into all sorts of 
 damaging admissions, and had thereupon dis- 
 covered the true state of the case in less than 
 five minutes. 
 
 From that time, my unfortunate second 
 brother became the victim of all that was 
 mischievous and reckless in her disposition. 
 She forced him downstairs by a series of 
 manoeuvres which rendered his refuge unin- 
 habitable, and then pretended to fall violently 
 in love with him. She slipped little pink 
 three-cornered notes under his door, entreat- 
 ing him to make appointments with her; 
 or tenderly inquiring how he would like to
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 79 
 
 see her hair dressed at dinner on that day. 
 She followed him into the garden — some- 
 times to ask for the privilege of smelling his 
 tobacco-smoke; sometimes to beg for a lock 
 of his hair, or a fragment of his ragged old 
 dressing-gown, to put among her keepsakes. 
 She sighed at him when he was in a 'passion, 
 and put her handkerchief to her eyes when 
 he was sulky. In short, she tormented 
 Morgan, whenever she could catch him, with 
 such ingenious and such relentless malice, 
 that he actually threatened to go back to 
 London, and prey once more, in the un- 
 scrupulous character of a Doctor, on the 
 credulity of mankind. 
 
 Thus situated in her relations towards 
 ourselves, and thus occupied by country 
 diversions of her own choosing. Miss 
 Jessie passed her time at The Glen Tower, 
 excepting now and then a dull hour in the
 
 80 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 long evenings, to her guardian's satisfaction 
 — and, all things considered, not without 
 pleasure to herself. Day followed day in 
 calm and smooth succession; and five quiet 
 weeks had elapsed out of the six during 
 which her stay was to last, without any 
 remarkable occurrence to distinguish them, 
 when an event happened, which personally 
 affected me in a very serious manner ; and 
 which suddenly caused our handsome Queen 
 of Hearts to become the object of my deepest 
 anxiety in the present, and of my dearest 
 hopes for the future.
 
 81 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OUR GRAND PROJECT. 
 
 At the end of the fifth week of our guest's 
 stay, among the letters which the morning's 
 post brought to The Glen Tower, there 
 was one for me, from my son, George, in the 
 Crimea. 
 
 The effect which this letter produced in 
 our little circle renders it necessary that 
 1 should present it here, to speak for it- 
 self 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 This is what I read, aloue in mj own 
 room : — 
 
 " My dearest Father : — After the great 
 public news of the fall of Sebastopol, have 
 you any ears left for small items of private 
 intelligence from insignificant subaltern offi- 
 cers ? Prepare — if you have — for a sudden 
 and a startling announcement. How shall 
 I write the words? How shall I tell you that 
 I am really coming home ? 
 
 " I have a private opportunity of sending 
 this letter, and only a short time to write 
 it in. So I must put many things, if I 
 can, into few words. The doctor has 
 reported me fit to travel, at last; and I 
 leave, thanks to the privilege of a wounded 
 man, by the next ship. The name of the 
 vessel and the time of starting are on 
 the list which I enclose. I have made 
 all my calculations ; and, allowing for every
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 83 
 
 possible delay, I find that I shall be with 
 you, at the latest, on the first of November 
 — perhaps, some days earlier. 
 
 " I am far too full of my return, and of 
 something else connected with it which 
 is equally dear to me, to say anything 
 about public afiairs — more especially as I know 
 that the newspapers must, by this time, have 
 given you plenty of information. Let me fill 
 the rest of this paper with a subject which 
 is very near to my heart ; nearer, I am almost 
 ashamed to say, than the great triumph 
 of my countrymen, in which my disabled 
 condition has prevented me from taking any 
 share. 
 
 "I gathered from your last letter that 
 Miss Yelverton was to pay you a visit 
 this autumn, in your capacity of her guardian. 
 If she is already with you, pray move heaven 
 and earth to keep her at The Glen Tower 
 
 g2
 
 84 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 till I come back. Do you anticipate my 
 confession from this entreaty ? My dear, dear 
 father, all my hopes rest on that one darling 
 treasure which you are guarding perhaps, 
 at this moment, under your own roof; all 
 my happiness depends on making Jessie 
 Yelverton my wife. 
 
 *^If I did not sincerely believe that you 
 will heartily approve of my choice, I should 
 hardly have ventured on this abrupt con- 
 fession. Now that I have made it, let me 
 go on and tell you why I have kept my attach- 
 ment, up to this time, a secret from everyone 
 — even from Jessie herself. (You see I call 
 her by her Christian name already !) 
 
 "I should have risked everything, father, 
 and have laid my whole heart open before 
 her more than a year ago, but for the 
 order which sent our regiment out to take 
 its share in this great struggle of the
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 85 
 
 Eussian war. No ordinary change in my 
 life would have silenced me on the subject 
 of all others of which I was most anxious 
 to speak — but this change made me think 
 seriously of the future ; and out of those 
 thoughts came the resolution which I have 
 kept until this time. For her sake, and 
 for her sake only, I constrained myself to 
 leave the words unspoken which might 
 have made her my promised wife. I re- 
 solved to spare her the dreadful suspense 
 of waiting for her betrothed husband till 
 the perils of war might, or might not, 
 give him back to her. I resolved to save 
 her from the bitter grief of my death, if 
 a bullet laid me low. I resolved to pre- 
 serve her from the wretched sacrifice of 
 herself, if I came back, as many a brave 
 man will come back from this war, inva- 
 lided for life. Leaving her untrammelled
 
 86 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 by any engagement, unsuspicious perhaps 
 of my real feelings towards her, I might 
 die, and know that, by keeping silence, I 
 had spared a pang to the heart that was 
 dearest to me. This was the thought that 
 stayed the words on my lips when I left 
 England, uncertain whether I should ever 
 come back. If I had loved her less dearly, 
 if her happiness had been less precious to 
 me, I might have given way under the 
 hard restraint I imposed on myself, and 
 might have spoken selfishly at the last 
 moment. 
 
 "And now the time of trial is past; the 
 war is over ; and although I still walk a 
 little lame, I am, thank God, in as good 
 health, and in much better spirits than 
 when I left home. Oh, father, if I should 
 lose her now — if I should get no reward 
 for sparing her, but the bitterest of all
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 87 
 
 disappomtments ! Sometimes I am vain 
 enough to think that 1 made some little 
 impression on her; sometimes I doubt if 
 she has a suspicion of my love. She lives 
 in a gay world — she is the centre of per- 
 petual admiration — men with all the quali- 
 ties to win a woman's heart are perpetu- 
 ally about her — can I, dare I, hope? Yes, 
 I must ! Only keep her, I entreat you, 
 at The Glen Tower. In that quiet world, 
 in that freedom from frivolities and tempt- 
 ations, she will listen to me as she might 
 listen nowhere else. Keep her, my dearest, 
 kindest father — and, above all things, 
 breathe not a word to her of this letter. 
 I have surely earned the privilege of being 
 the first to open her eyes to the truth. 
 She must know nothing, now that I am 
 coming home, till she knows all from my 
 own lips."
 
 88 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Here the writing hurriedly broke off. I 
 am only giving myself credit for common 
 feeling, I trust, when I confess that what I 
 read deeply affected me. I think I never 
 felt so fond of my boy, and so proud of him, 
 as at the moment when I laid down his letter. 
 
 As soon as I could control my spirits, 
 I began to calculate the question of time 
 with a trembling eagerness, which brought 
 back to my mind my own young days of 
 love and hope. My son was to come back, 
 at the latest, on the first of November; 
 and Jessie's allotted six weeks would 
 expire on the twenty-second of October. 
 Ten days too soon ! But for the caprice 
 which had brought her to us exactly that 
 number of days before her time, she would 
 have been in the house, as a matter of 
 necessity, on George's return. 
 
 I searched back in my memory for a conver-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 89 
 
 sation that I had held with her, a week since, 
 on her future plans. Towards the middle of 
 November, her aunt. Lady Westwick, had 
 arranged to go to her house in Paris ; and 
 Jessie was of course to accompany her — 
 to accompany her into that very circle of the 
 best English and the best French society, 
 which contained in it the elements most ad- 
 verse to George's hopes. Between this time 
 and that, she had no special engagement ; and 
 she had only settled to write and warn her 
 aunt of her return to London, a day or two 
 before she left The Glen Tower. 
 
 Under these circumstances, the first, the 
 all important necessity was to prevail on her 
 to prolong her stay beyond the allotted six 
 weeks, by ten days. After the caution to be 
 silent, impressed on me (and most naturally, 
 poor boy) in George's letter, I felt that I 
 could only appeal to her on the ordinary
 
 90 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 ground of hospitality. Would this be suffi- 
 cient to effect the object? 
 
 I was sure that the hours of the • morning 
 and the afternoon had, thus far, been fully and 
 happily occupied by her various amusements, 
 indoors and out. She was no more weary of 
 her days now, than she had been when she 
 first came among us. But I was by no means 
 so certain that she was not tired of her 
 evenings. I had latterly noticed symptoms of 
 weariness after the lamps were lit, and a sus- 
 picious regularity in retiring to bed the 
 moment the clock struck ten. If I could 
 provide her with a new amusement for the 
 long evenings, I might leave the days to take 
 care of themselves, and might then make 
 sure (seeing that she had no special engage- 
 ment in London until the middle of November) 
 of her being sincerely thankful and ready to 
 prolong her stay.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 91 
 
 How was this to be done ? The piano and 
 the novels had both failed to attract her. 
 What other amusement was there to offer ? 
 
 It was useless, at present, to ask myself 
 such questions as these. I was too much agi- 
 tated to think collectedly on the most trifling 
 subjects. I was even too restless to stay in 
 my own room. My son's letter had given me 
 so fresh an interest in Jessie, that I 
 was now as impatient to see her as if we were 
 about to meet for the first time. I wanted 
 to look at her with my new eyes, to 
 listen to her with my new ears, to study 
 her secretly with my new purposes and 
 my new hopes and fears. To my dismay — for I 
 wanted the very weather itself to favour 
 George's interests — it was raining heavily that 
 morning. I knew, therefore, that I should 
 probably find her in her own sitting-room. 
 When I knocked at her door, with George's
 
 92 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 letter crumpled up in my hand, with George^s 
 hopes in full possession of my heart, it is no ex- 
 aggeration to say that my nerves were almost 
 as much fluttered, and my ideas almost as 
 much confused, as they were on a certain 
 memorable day, in the far past, when I rose, 
 in a bran new wig and gown, to set my 
 future prospects at the Bar on the hazard 
 of my first speech. 
 
 When I entered the room, I found Jessie 
 leaning back languidly in her largest arm- 
 chair, watching the rain-drops dripping 
 down the window pane. The unfortunate 
 box of novels was open by her side ; and the 
 books were lying for the most part strewed 
 about on the ground at her feet. One 
 volume lay open, back upwards, on her lap ; 
 and her hands were crossed over it listlessly. 
 To my great dismay she was yawning, palpa- 
 bly and widely yawning, when I came in.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 93 
 
 No sooner did I find myself in her presence 
 than an irresistible anxiety to make some 
 secret discovery of the real state of her feelings 
 towards George took possession of me. After 
 the customary condolences on the imprison- 
 ment to which she was subjected by the 
 weather, I said, in as careless a manner as 
 it was possible to assume ; — 
 
 ^^I have heard from my son this morning. 
 He talks of being ordered home, and tells me 
 I may expect to see him before the end of 
 the year." 
 
 I was too cautious to mention the exact 
 date of his return ; for, in that case, she 
 might have detected my motive for asking 
 her to prolong her visit. 
 
 *^0h, indeed? " she said. '^ How very nice! 
 How glad you must be ! " 
 
 I watched her narrowly. The clear dark 
 blue eyes met mine as openly as ever. The
 
 94 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 smooth round cheeks kept their fresh colour 
 quite unchanged. The Ml, good-humoured, 
 smiling lips never trembled or altered their 
 expression in the slightest degree. Her light 
 checked silk dress, with its pretty trimming of 
 cherry-coloured ribbon, lay quite still over 
 the bosom beneath it. For all the information 
 T could get from her look and manner, we 
 might as well have been a hundred miles 
 apart from each other. Is the best woman 
 in the world little better than a fathomless 
 abyss of duplicity on certain occasions, and 
 where certain feelings of her own are con- 
 cerned ? I would rather not think that ; 
 and yet I don't know how to account other- 
 wise for the masterly manner in which Miss 
 Jessie contrived to baffle me. 
 
 I was afraid, literally afraid, to broach the 
 subject of prolonging her sojourn with us, on a 
 rainy day. So I changed the topic, in des-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 95 
 
 pair, to the novels thut were scattered about 
 her. 
 
 *^ Can you find nothing there/' I asked, 
 " to amuse you this wet morning ? " 
 
 " There are two or three good novels,'' she 
 said carelessly, ^'but I read them before I 
 left London." 
 
 " And the others won't even do for a dull 
 day in the country ? " I went on. 
 
 " They might do for some people," she an- 
 swered, "but not for me. I'm rather 
 peculiar, perhaps, in my tastes. I'm sick to 
 death of novels with an earnest purpose. I'm 
 sick to death of outbursts of eloquence, and 
 large-minded philanthropy, and graphic de- 
 scriptions, and unsparing anatomy of the 
 human heart, and all that sort of thing. 
 Good gracious me ! isn't it the original inten- 
 tion or purpose, or whatever you call it, of a 
 work of fiction to set out distinctly by telling
 
 96 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 a story? And how many of these books, I 
 should like to know, do that ? Why, so far 
 as telling a story is concerned, the greater 
 part of them might as well be sermons as 
 novels. Oh, dear me ! what I want is some- 
 thing that seizes hold of my interest, and 
 makes me forget when it is time to dress for 
 dinner ; something that keeps me reading, 
 reading, reading, in a breathless state to find 
 out the end. You know what I mean — at 
 least you ought. Why, there was that little 
 chance story you told me yesterday in the 
 garden — don't you remember, about your 
 strange client, whom you never saw again ? — 
 I declare it was much more interesting than 
 half these novels, because it was a story. 
 Tell me another about your young days, when 
 you were seeing the world, and meeting with 
 all sorts of remarkable people. Or, no — 
 don't tell it now — keep it till the evening
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 97 
 
 when we all want something to stir us up. 
 You old people might amuse us young ones 
 out of your own resources, oftener than you 
 do. It was very kind of you to get me these 
 books ; but, with all respect to them, I would 
 rather have the rummaging of your memory 
 than the rummaging of this box. What's the 
 matter? Are you afraid I have found out 
 the window in your bosom already ? " 
 
 I had half risen from my chair at her last 
 words; and I felt that my face must have 
 flushed at the same moment. She had 
 started an idea in my mind — the very idea of 
 which I had been in search, when I was pon- 
 dering over the best means of amusing her in 
 the long autumn evenings. 
 
 I parried her questions by the best excuses 
 I could offer ; changed the conversation for 
 the next five minutes, and then, making a 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 sudden remembrance of business my apology 
 for leaving her, hastily withdrew, to devote 
 myself to the new idea in the solitude of my 
 own room. 
 
 A little quiet thinking convinced me that I 
 had discovered a means, not only of occupying 
 her idle time, but of decoying her into staying 
 on with us, evening by evening, until my 
 son's return. The new project, which she had 
 herself unconsciously suggested, involved 
 nothing less than acting forthwith on her own 
 chance hint, and appealing to her interest and 
 curiosity by the recital of incidents and adven- 
 tures drawn from my own personal experience, 
 and, if I could get' them to help me, from the 
 experience of my brothers as well. Strange 
 people and startling events had connected 
 themselves with Owen's past life as a clergy- 
 man, with Morgan's past life as a doctor, and 
 with my past life as a lawyer, which offered
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 99 
 
 elements of interest of a strong and striking 
 kind ready to our hands. If these narratives 
 were written plainly and unpretendingly, if 
 one of them was read every evening under 
 cireumstances that should pique the curiosity 
 and impress the imagination of our young 
 guest, the very occupation was found for her 
 weary hours which would gratify her tastes, 
 appeal to her natural interest in the early 
 lives of my brothers and myself, and lure her 
 insensibly into prolonging her visit by ten 
 days without exciting a suspicion of our real 
 motive for detaining her. 
 
 I sat down at my desk ; I hid my face in 
 my hands, to keep out all impressions of ex- 
 ternal and present things ; and I searched 
 back through the mysterious labyrinth of the 
 Past, through the dim, ever-deepening twi- 
 light of the years that were gone. 
 
 Slowly, out of the awful shadows, the 
 
 h2
 
 100 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Ghosts of Memory rose about me. The dead 
 population of a vanished world came back to 
 life round me, a living man. Men and women 
 whose earthly pilgrimage had ended long 
 since, returned upon me from the unknown 
 spheres ; and fond familiar voices burst their 
 way back to my ears through the heavy silence 
 of the grave. Moving by me, in the nameless 
 inner light which no eye saw but mine, the 
 dread procession of immaterial scenes and beings 
 unrolled its silent length. I saw once more the 
 pleading face of a friend of early days, with 
 the haunting vision that had tortured him 
 through life, by his side again — with the long- 
 forgotten despair in his eyes which had once 
 touched my heart, and bound me to him till 
 I had tracked his destiny through its darkest 
 windings to the end. I saw the figure of an 
 innocent woman passing to and fro, in an an- 
 cient country-house, with the shadow of a
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 101 
 
 strange suspicion stealing after her, wherever 
 she went. I saw a man worn by hardship 
 and old age stretched dreaming on the 
 straw of a stable, and muttering in his dream 
 the terrible secret of his life. Other scenes 
 and persons followed these, less vivid in their 
 revival, but still always recognisable and dis- 
 tinct. A young girl alone by night, and in 
 peril of her life, in a cottage on a dreary 
 moor. An upper chamber of an Inn, with two 
 beds in it ; the curtains of one bed closed, 
 and a man standing by them, waiting, yet 
 dreading, to draw them back. A husband 
 secretly following the traces of a mystery 
 which his wife's anxious love had fatally 
 hidden from him since the day when they first 
 met. These, and other visions like them, 
 shadowy reflections of the living beings and 
 the real events that had been once, peopled 
 the solitude and the emptiness around me.
 
 102 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 They haunted me still, when I tried to break 
 the chain of thought which my own efforts had 
 wound about my mind ; they followed me to 
 and fro in the room ; and they came out with 
 me when I left it. I had lifted the veil from 
 the Past for myself; and I was now to rest 
 no more till I had lifted it for others. 
 
 I went at once to my eldest brother, and 
 showed him my son's letter, and told him 
 all that I have written here. His kind heart 
 was touched, as mine had been. He felt for 
 my suspense ; he shared my anxiety ; he laid 
 aside his own occupation on the spot. 
 
 '* Only tell me," he said, " how I can help, 
 and I will give every hour in the day to you 
 and to George.'' 
 
 I had come to him with my mind almost as 
 full of his past life as of my own ; I recalled 
 to his memory events in his experience as a 
 working clergyman in London ; I set him
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 103 
 
 looking among papers which he had preserved 
 for half his lifetime, and the very existence of 
 which he had forgotten long since ; I recalled 
 to him the names of persons to whose necessi- 
 ties he had ministered in his sacred office, and 
 whose stories he had heard from their own 
 lips, or received under their own handwriting. 
 When we parted, he was certain of what he 
 was wanted to do, and was resolute on that 
 very day to begin the work. 
 
 I went to Morgan next, and appealed to 
 him, as I had already appealed to Owen. It 
 was only part of his odd character to start all 
 sorts of eccentric objections in reply ; to affect 
 a cynical indifference, which he was far from 
 really and truly feeling ; and to indulge in 
 plenty of quaint sarcasm on the subject 
 of Jessie and his nephew George. I waited 
 till these little surface-ebullitions had all 
 expended themselves, and then pressed my
 
 104 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 point again with the earnestness and anxiety 
 that I really felt. '. 
 
 Evidently touched by the manner of my 
 appeal to him, even more than by the lan- 
 guage in which it was expressed, Morgan 
 took refuge in his customary abruptness, 
 spread out his paper violently on the table, 
 seized his pen and ink, and told me quite 
 fiercely to give him his work and let him 
 tackle it at once. 
 
 I set myself to recall to his memory some 
 very remarkable experiences of his own in 
 his professional days ; but he stopped me 
 before 1 had half done. 
 
 " I understand," he said, taking a savage 
 dip at the ink, " I'm to make her flesh creep, 
 and to frighten her out of her wits. V\\ do 
 it with a vengeance ! " 
 
 Reserving to myself privately an editorial 
 right of supervision over Morgan's contri-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 105 
 
 butions, I returned to my own room to begin 
 my share — by far the largest one — of the 
 task before us. The stimulus applied to my 
 mind by my son's letter must have been a 
 strong one indeed ; for I had hardly been 
 more than an hour at my desk, before I found 
 the old literary facility of my youthful days, 
 when I was a writer for the magazines, re- 
 turning to me as if by magic. I worked on 
 unremittingly till dinner-time ; and then re- 
 sumed the pen after we had all separated 
 for the night. At two o'clock the next morn- 
 ing, I found myself — God help me ! — mas- 
 querading, as it were, in my own long-lost 
 character of a hard-writing young man, with 
 the old familiar cup of strong tea by my side, 
 and the old familiar wet towel tied round my 
 head. 
 
 My review of the progress I had made, 
 when I looked back at ray pages of manu-
 
 106 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 script, yielded all the encouragement I wanted 
 to drive me on. It is only just, however, 
 to add to the record of this first day's attempt, 
 that the literary labour which it involved was 
 by no means of the most trying kind. The 
 great strain on the intellect — the strain of 
 invention — was spared me, by my having 
 real characters and events ready to my hand. 
 If I had been called on to create, I should, in 
 all probability, have suffered severely by 
 contrast with the very worst of those 
 unfortunate novelists whom Jessie had so 
 rashly and so thoughtlessly condemned. It 
 is not wonderful that the public should 
 rarely know how to estimate the vast service 
 which is done to them by the production of 
 a good book, seeing that they are, for the 
 most part, utterly ignorant of the immense 
 difficulty of writing even a bad one. 
 
 The next day was fine, to my great
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 107 
 
 relief; and our visitor, while we were at 
 work, enjoyed her customary scamper on 
 the pony, and her customary rambles after- 
 wards in the neighbourhood of the house. 
 Although I had interruptions to contend 
 with on the part of Owen and Morgan — 
 neither of whom possessed my experience 
 in the production of what heavy people call 
 "light literature," and both of whom conse- 
 quently wanted assistance — still I made great 
 progress, and earned my hours of repose on 
 the evening of the second day. 
 
 On that evening I risked the worst, and 
 opened my negotiations for the future with 
 " The Queen of Hearts." 
 
 About an hour after the tea had been re- 
 moved, and when I happened to be left alone 
 in the room with her, I noticed that 
 she rose suddenly and went to the writing- 
 table. My suspicions were aroused directly
 
 i. 
 
 108 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 — and I entered on the dangerous subject 
 by inquiring if she intended to write to her 
 aunt. 
 
 "Yes," she said. "I promised to write 
 when the last week came. If you had paid 
 me the compliment of asking me to stay a 
 little longer, I should have returned it 
 by telling you I was sorry to go. As it 
 is, I mean to be sulky and say nothing." 
 
 With those words she took up her pen to 
 begin the letter. 
 
 " Wait a minute," I remonstrated. " I was 
 just on the point of begging you to stay when 
 I spoke." 
 
 " Were you indeed ? " she returned. *^ I 
 never believed in coincidences of that sort 
 before — but now, of course, I put the most 
 unlimited faith in them ! " 
 
 "Will you believe in plain proofs?" I 
 asked, adopting her humour. " How do you
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 109 
 
 think I and my brothers have been employ- 
 ing ourselves all day to-day and all day 
 yesterday? Guess what we have been 
 about." 
 
 " Congratulating yourselves in secret on 
 my approaching departure," she answered, 
 tapping her chin saucily with the feather 
 end of her pen. 
 
 I seized the opportunity of astonishing 
 her, and forthwith told her the truth. 
 She started up from the table, and ap- 
 proached me with the eagerness of a child, 
 her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks flushed. 
 
 '^Do you really mean it?" she said. 
 
 I assured her that I was in earnest. She 
 thereupon not only expressed an interest in 
 our undertaking, which was evidently sincere 
 — but, with characteristic impatience, 
 wanted to begin the first evening's reading 
 on . that very night. I disappointed her
 
 110 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 sadly by explaining that we required time 
 to prepare ourselves; and by assuring her that 
 we should not be ready for the next five 
 days. On the sixth day, I added, we 
 should be able to begin, and to go on, 
 without missing an evening, for probably 
 ten days more. 
 
 '' The next five days ? '^ she repeated. 
 '^Why that will just bring us to the end 
 of my six weeks' visit. I suppose you 
 are not setting a trap to catch me? This 
 is not a trick of you three cunning old 
 gentlemen to make me stay on, is 
 it?" 
 
 I quailed inwardly as that dangerously 
 close guess at the truth passed her 
 lips. 
 
 "You forget," I said, "that the idea only 
 occurred to me after what you said yesterday. 
 If it had struck me earlier, we should h^ve
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEAETS. Ill 
 
 been ready earlier — and then, where would 
 jour suspicions have been ? " 
 
 ** I am ashamed of having felt them/' she 
 said in her frank, hearty way. '^ I retract 
 the word ^ trap,' and I beg pardon for calling 
 you ^ three cunning old gentlemen.' But 
 what am I to say to my aunt ? " 
 
 She moved back to the writing-table as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " Say nothing," I replied, ^^ till you have 
 heard the first story. Shut up the paper- 
 case till that time ; and then decide when 
 you will open it again to write to your 
 aunt." 
 
 She hesitated, and smiled. That terribly 
 close guess of hers was not out of her mind 
 yet. 
 
 '^I rather fancy," she said slyly, *^that 
 the first story will turn out to be the best 
 of the whole series."
 
 112 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 " Wrong again," I retorted. " I have 
 a plan for letting chance decide which of 
 the stories the first one shall be. They 
 shall be all numbered as they are done ; 
 corresponding numbers shall be written 
 inside folded pieces of card and well mixed 
 together; you shall pick out any one card 
 you like ; you shall declare the number 
 written within ; and, good or bad, the 
 story that answers to that number shall 
 be the story that is read. Is that 
 fair?" 
 
 ^'Fair!" she exclaimed. "It's better 
 than fair; it makes me of some importance 
 — and I must be more or less than woman 
 not to appreciate that." 
 
 " Then you consent to wait patiently 
 for the next five days?" 
 
 "As patiently as I can." 
 
 "And you engage to decide nothing
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 113 
 
 about writing to your aunt, until you have 
 heard the first story ? " 
 
 ^'I do," she said, returning to the 
 writing-table. *^ Behold the proof of it." 
 She raised her hand with theatrical solem- 
 nity, and closed the paper-case with an 
 impressive bang. 
 
 I leaned back in my chair, with my 
 mind at ease for the first time since the 
 receipt of my son's letter. 
 
 " Only let George return by the first 
 of November," I thought to myself, '^ and 
 all the aunts in Christendom shall not 
 prevent Jessie Yelverton from being here 
 to meet him." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE TEN DAYS. 
 
 12
 
 117 
 
 THE FIRST DAY. 
 
 Showery and unsettled. In spite of the 
 weather, Jessie put on my macintosh 
 cloak and rode off over the hills to one 
 of Owen's outlying farms. She was already 
 too impatient to wait quietly for the even- 
 ing's reading in the house ; or to enjoy 
 any amusement less exhilarating than a 
 gallop in the open air. 
 
 I was, on my side, as anxious and as 
 uneasy as our guest. Now that the six 
 weeks of her stay had expired — now that
 
 118 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 the day had really arrived, on the evening 
 of which the first story was to be read — 
 I began to calculate the chances of failure 
 as well as the chances of success. What 
 if my own estimate of the interest of the 
 stories turned out to be a false one ? What 
 if some unforeseen accident occurred to 
 delay my son's return beyond ten days ? 
 
 The arrival of the newspaper had already 
 become an event of the deepest importance 
 to me. Unreasonable as it was to expect 
 any tidings of George at so early a date, 
 I began, nevertheless, on this first of our 
 days of suspense, to look for the name 
 of his ship in the columns of telegraphic 
 news. The mere mechanical act of looking 
 was some relief to my overstrained feelings 
 — although I might have known, and did 
 know, that the search, for the present, 
 could lead to no satisfactory result.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 119 
 
 Towards noon, I shut myself up with 
 my collection of manuscripts, to revise 
 them for the last time. Our exertions had 
 Dhus far produced but six of the necessary 
 ten stories. As they were only, however, 
 to be read, one by one, on six successive 
 evenings, and as we could therefore count 
 on plenty of leisure in the daytime, I was in no 
 fear of our failing to finish the little series. 
 
 Of the six completed stories, I had 
 written two, and had found a third, in the 
 form of a collection of letters, among my 
 papers. Morgan had only written one ; and 
 this solitary contribution of his had given me 
 more trouble than both my own put together, 
 in consequence of the perpetual intrusion of 
 my brother's eccentricities, in every part of his 
 narrative. The process of removing these quaint 
 turns and frisks of Morgan's humour — which, 
 however amusing they might have been in an
 
 120 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Essay, were utterly out of place in a Story, 
 appealing to suspended interest for its effect 
 — certainly tried my patience, and my critical 
 faculty (such as it is) more severely than any 
 other part of our literary enterprise which 
 had fallen to my share. 
 
 Owen^s investigations among his papers 
 had supplied us with the two remaining narra- 
 tives. One was contained in a letter, and the 
 other in the form of a diary ; and both had 
 been received by him directly from the 
 writers. Besides these contributions, he had 
 undertaken to help us by some work 
 of his own ; and had been engaged for 
 the last four days in moulding certain 
 events which had happened within his per- 
 sonal knowledge, into the form of a story. 
 His extreme fastidiousness, as a writer, 
 interfered, however, so seriously with his pro- 
 gress, that he was still sadly behindhand,
 
 THE QUEEX OF HEARTS. 121 
 
 and was likely, though less heavily burdened 
 than Morgan or myself, to be the last to 
 complete his allotted task. 
 
 Such was our position, and such the 
 resources at our command, when the first ot 
 the Ten Days dawned upon us. Shortly after 
 four in the afternoon, I completed my work 
 of revision ; numbered the manuscripts from 
 one to six, exactly as they happened to lie 
 under my hand ; and enclosed them all in a 
 portfolio, covered with purple morocco, which 
 became known from that time by the im- 
 posing title of The Purple Volume. 
 
 Miss Jessie returned from her expedition 
 just as I was tying the strings of the port- 
 folio ; and, woman-like, instantly asked leave 
 to peep inside, which favour, I, manlike, posi- 
 tively declined to grant. 
 
 As soon as dinner was over, our guest re- 
 tired to array herself in magnificent evening
 
 122 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 costume. It had been arranged that the 
 readings were to take place in her own 
 sitting-room ; and she was so enthusiastically 
 desirous to do honour to the occasion, that 
 she regretted not having brought with her 
 from London the dress in which she had been 
 presented at court, the year before ; and not 
 having borrowed certain materials for ad- 
 ditional splendoui', which she briefly described 
 as " aunt's diamonds." 
 
 Towards eight o'clock we assembled in the 
 sitting-room ; and a strangely assorted com- 
 pany we were. At the head of the table, 
 radiant in silk and jewellery, flowers and 
 furbelows, sat The Queen of Hearts, looking 
 so handsome and so happy, that I secretly 
 congratulated my absent son on the ex- 
 cellent taste he had shown in falling in 
 love with her. Eound this bright young 
 creature (Owen at the foot of the table, and
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 123 
 
 Morgan and I on either side) sat her three 
 wrinkled, grey-headed, dingily-attired hosts ; 
 and just behind her, in still more inappro- 
 priate companionship, towered the spectral 
 figure of the man in armour, which had so un- 
 accountably attracted her on her arrival. 
 This strange scene was lighted up by candles 
 in high and heavy brass sconces. Before 
 Jessie stood a mighty china punchbowl 
 of the olden time, containing the folded 
 pieces of card, inside which were written 
 the numbers to be drawn ; and before Owen 
 reposed the Purple Volume, from which one 
 of us was to read. The walls of the room 
 were hung all round with faded tapestry ; 
 the clumsy furniture was black with age ; 
 and in spite of the light from the sconces, 
 the lofty ceiling was almost lost in gloom. 
 If Kembrandt could have painted our back 
 ground, Reynolds our guest, and Hogarth
 
 124 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 ourselves, the picture of the scene would have 
 been complete. 
 
 When the old clock over the tower gate- 
 way had chimed eight, I rose to inaugurate 
 the proceedings by requesting Jessie to take 
 one of the pieces of card out of the punch- 
 bowl, and to declare the number. 
 
 She laughed; then suddenly became 
 frightened and serious; then looked at me, 
 and said "it was dreadfully like business;^' 
 and then entreated Morgan not to stare at 
 her, or, in the present state of her nerves, 
 she should upset the punch bowl. At last 
 she summoned resolution enough to take out 
 one of the pieces of card, and to unfold it. 
 
 " Declare the number, my dear," said 
 Owen. 
 
 "Number Four," answered Jessie, making 
 a magnificent curtsey, and beginning to look 
 like herself again.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 125 
 
 Owen opened the Purple Volume, searched 
 through the manuscripts, and suddenly 
 changed colour. The cause of his discom- 
 posure was soon explained. Malicious fate 
 had assigned to the most diffident individual 
 in the company the trying responsibility of 
 leading the way. Number four was one of 
 the two narratives which Owen had found 
 among his own papers. 
 
 "I am almost sorry," began my eldest 
 brother, confusedly, ^' that it has fallen to my 
 turn to read first. I hardly know which I 
 distrust most, myself or my story.' 
 
 "Try and fancy you are in the pulpit 
 again," said Morgan, sarcastically. *^ Gentle- 
 men of your cloth, Owen, seldom seem to dis- 
 trust themselves or their manuscripts, when 
 they get into that position." 
 
 " The fact is," continued Owen, mildly 
 impenetrable to his brother's cynical remark,
 
 126 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 '* that the little thing I am going to try 
 and read, is hardly a story at all. I am 
 afraid it is only an anecdote. I hecame pos- 
 sessed of the letter which contains my nar- 
 rative under these circumstances. At the 
 time when I was a clergyman in London, 
 my church was attended for some months by 
 a lady who was the wife of a large farmer in 
 the country. She had been obliged to come 
 to town, and to remain there for the sake of 
 one of her children, a little boy, who required 
 the best medical advice." — 
 
 At the words "medical advice," Morgan 
 shook his head, and growled to himself con- 
 temptuously. Owen went on : — 
 
 " While she was attending in this way to 
 one child, his share in her love was unexpect- 
 edly disputed by another, who came into the 
 world rather before his time. I baptised the 
 baby, and was asked to the little christening-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 127 
 
 party afterwards. This was my first intro- 
 duction to the lady ; and I was very favour- 
 ably impressed by her. Not so much on 
 account of her personal appearance, for she 
 was but a little woman and had no pretensions 
 to beauty, as on account of a certain sim- 
 plicity and hearty downright kindness in her 
 manner, as well as of an excellent frankness 
 and good sense in her conversation. One of 
 the guests present, who saw how she had in- 
 terested me, and who spoke of her in the 
 highest terms, surprised me by inquiring if I 
 should ever have supposed that quiet, good- 
 humoured little woman to be capable of per- 
 forming an act of courage which would have 
 tried the nerves of the boldest man in Eng- 
 land? I naturally enough begged for an 
 explanation ; but my neighbour at the table 
 only smiled and said, ' If you can find an op- 
 portunity, ask her what happened at the Black
 
 128 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Cottage; and you will hear something that will 
 astonish you/ I acted on the hint as soon 
 as I had an opportunity of speaking to her 
 privately. The lady answered that it was 
 too long a story to tell then ; and explained, 
 on my suggesting that she should relate it 
 on some future day, that she was about to 
 start for her country home the next morning. 
 ^ But,' she was good enough to add, ^ as 
 I have been under great obligations to 
 you for many Sundays past, and as you 
 seem interested in this matter, I will employ 
 my first leisure time, after my return, in 
 telling you by writing, instead of by word 
 of mouth, what really happened to me 
 on one memorable night of my life in the 
 Black Cottage.' 
 
 "She faithfully performed her promise. In 
 a fortnight afterwards I received from her the 
 narrative which I am now about to read."
 
 129 
 
 BROTHER OWEFS STORY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE BLACK COriAGE. 
 
 To begin at the beginning, I must take 
 you back to the time after my mother's death, 
 when my only brother had gone to sea, when 
 my sister was out at service, and when I lived 
 alone with my father, in the midst of a moor 
 in the West of England. 
 
 The moor was covered with great limestone 
 rocks, and intersected here and there by 
 streamlets. The nearest habitation to ours 
 was situated about a mile and a half off, 
 where a strip of the fertile land stretched out 
 
 VOL I. K
 
 130 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 into the waste, like a tongue. Here the out- 
 buildings of the great Moor Farm, then in the 
 possession of my husband's father, began. The 
 Farm-lands stretched down gently into a beau- 
 tiful rich valley, lying nicely sheltered by 
 the high platform of the moor. When the 
 ground began to rise again, miles and miles 
 away, it led up to a country-house, called 
 Holme Manor, belonging to a gentleman 
 named Knifton. Mr. Knifton had lately 
 married a young lady whom my mother had 
 nursed, and whose kindness and friendship for 
 me, her foster-sister, I shall remember grate- 
 fully to the last day of my life. These, and 
 other slight particulars, it is necessary to my 
 story that I should tell you ; and it is also 
 necessary that you should be especially 
 careful to bear them well in mind. 
 
 My father was by trade a stone-mason. His 
 cottage stood a mile and a half from the
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 131 
 
 nearest habitation. In all other directions 
 we were four or five times that distance from 
 neighbours. Being very poor people, this lonely 
 situation had one great attraction for us — we 
 lived rent free on it. In addition to that 
 advantage, the stones, by shaping which my 
 father gained his livelihood, lay all about him 
 at his very door ; so that he thought his posi- 
 tion, solitary as it was, quite an enviable one. 
 I can hardly say that I agreed with him, 
 though I never complained. I was very fond 
 of my father, and managed to make the best 
 of my loneliness with the thought of being 
 useful to him. Mrs. Knifton wished to 
 take me into her service when she mar- 
 ried, but I declined, unwillingly enough, 
 for my father's sake. If I had gone away, 
 he would have had nobody to live with him ; 
 and my mother made me promise on her 
 death-bed, that he should never be left to pine 
 
 k2
 
 132 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 away alone in the midst of the bleak moor. 
 Our cottage, small as it was, was stoutly 
 and snugly built, with stone from the moor as 
 a matter of course. The walls were lined 
 inside and fenced outside with wood, the gift 
 of Mr. Knifton's father to my father. This 
 double covering of cracks and crevices, which 
 would have been supei-fluous in a sheltered 
 position, was absolutely necessary, in our ex- 
 posed situation, to keep out the cold winds 
 which, excepting just the summer months, 
 swept over us continually, all the year round. 
 The outside boards, covering our roughly- 
 built stone walls, my father protected against 
 the wet with pitch and tar. This gave to our 
 little abode a curiously dark, dingy look, espe- 
 cially when it was seen from a distance ; and so 
 it had come to be called in the neighbourhood, 
 even before I was born, the Black Cottage. 
 I have now related the preliminary parti-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 133 
 
 ticulars which it is desirable that jou should 
 know, and may proceed at once to the pleas- 
 anter task of telling you my story. 
 
 One cloudy autumn day, when I was rather 
 more than eighteen years old, a herdsman 
 walked over from Moor Farm with a 
 letter which had been left there for my 
 father. It came from a builder, living at our 
 county town, half a day's journey off, and it 
 invited my father to come to him and give his 
 judgment about an estimate for some stone- 
 work on a very large scale. My father's 
 expenses for loss of time were to be paid, and 
 he was to have his share of employment after- 
 ward, in preparing the stone. He was only 
 too glad, therefore, to obey the directions 
 which the letter contained, and to prepare at 
 once for his long walk to the county town. 
 
 Considering the time at which he re- 
 ceived the letter, and the necessity of
 
 134 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 resting before he attempted to return, it was 
 impossible for him to avoid being away from 
 home for one night at least. He pro- 
 posed to me, in case I disliked being 
 left alone in the Black Cottage, to lock 
 the door and to take me to Moor Farm 
 to sleep with any one of the milkmaids 
 who would give me a share of her bed. 
 I by no means liked the notion of sleep- 
 ing with a girl whom 1 did not know, 
 and I saw no reason to feel afraid of 
 being left alone for only one night ; so 
 I declined. No thieves had ever come 
 near us ; our poverty was sufficient pro- 
 tection against them ; and of other dan- 
 gers there were none that even the most 
 timid person could apprehend. According- 
 ly, I got my father's dinner, laughing at 
 the notion of my taking refuge under the 
 protection of a milkmaid at Moor Farm.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 135 
 
 He started for his walk as soon as he 
 had done, saying he should try and be 
 back by dinner-time the next day, and 
 leaving me and my cat Polly to take 
 care of the house. 
 
 I had cleared the table and brightened 
 up the fire, and had sat down to my 
 work, with the cat dozing at my feet, 
 when I heard the trampling of horses ; 
 and, running to the door, saw Mr. and 
 Mrs. Knifton, with their groom behind 
 them, riding up to the Black Cottage. 
 It was part of the young lady's kind- 
 ness never to neglect an opportunity of 
 coming to pay me a friendly visit ; and 
 her husband was generally willing to ac- 
 company her for his wife's sake. I made 
 my best curtsey, therefore, with a great 
 deal of pleasure, but with no particular 
 surprise at seeing them. They dismounted
 
 136 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 and entered the cottage, laughing and 
 talking in great spirits. I soon heard 
 that they were riding to the same county 
 town for which my father was bound; and 
 that they intended to stay with some friends 
 there for a few days, and to return home 
 on horseback, as they went out. 
 
 I heard this, and I also discovered that 
 they had been having an argument, in jest, 
 about money matters, as they rode along 
 to our cottage. Mrs. Knifton had accused 
 her husband of inveterate extravagance, and 
 of never being able to go out with money 
 in his pocket without spending it all, if he 
 possibly could, before he got home again. 
 Mr. Knifton had laughingly defended him- 
 self by declaring that all his pocket-money 
 went in presents for his wife, and that, if 
 he spent it lavishly, it was under her 
 Bole influence and superintendence.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 137 
 
 "We are going to Cliverton now," he said 
 to Mrs. Knifton, naming the county town, and 
 warming himself at our poor fire just as 
 pleasantly as if he had been standing 
 on his own grand hearth. "You will 
 stop to admire every pretty thing in every 
 one of the Cliverton shop-windows ; I shall 
 hand you the purse, and you will go in 
 and buy. When we have reached home 
 again, and you have had time to get tired of 
 your purchases, you will clasp your hands 
 in amazement and declare that you are 
 quite shocked at my habits of inveterate 
 extravagance. I am only the banker who 
 keeps the money — you, my love, are the 
 spendthrift who throws it all away ! " 
 
 " Am I, sir ? " said Mrs. Knifton, with 
 a look of mock indignation. " We will 
 see if I am to be misrepresented in this 
 way with impunity. Bessie, my dear,"
 
 138 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 (turning to me), "you shall judge how 
 far I deserve the character which that 
 unscrupulous man has just given to me. 
 I am the spendthrift, am I ? And you 
 are only the banker ? Very well. Banker ! 
 give me my money at once, if you please." 
 
 Mr. Knifton laughed, and took some 
 gold and silver from his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 "No, no," said Mrs. Knifton. "You 
 may want what you have got there for 
 necessary expenses. Is that all the money 
 you have about you? What do I feel 
 here ? " and she tapped her husband on the 
 chest, just over the breast-pocket of his coat. 
 
 Mr. Knifton laughed again, and pro- 
 duced his pocket-book. His wife snatched 
 it out of his hand, opened it, and drew 
 out some bank-notes, put them back again 
 immediately, and closing the pocket-book, 
 stepped across the room to my poor mother's
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 139 
 
 little walnut-wood book-case — the only bit 
 of valuable furniture we had in the house. 
 
 " What are you going to do there ? " 
 asked Mr. Knifton, following his wife. 
 
 Mrs. Knifton opened the glass door of the 
 book-case, put the pocket-book in a vacant 
 place on one of the lower shelves, closed and 
 locked the door again, and gave me the key. 
 
 '^You called me a spendthrift just now," 
 she said. " There is my answer. Xot one 
 farthing of that money shall you spend at 
 Cliverton on me. Keep the key in your 
 pocket, Bessie, and, whatever Mr. Knifton 
 may say, on no account let him have it until 
 we call again on our way back. Xo, Sir, I 
 won't trust you with that money in your poc- 
 ket in the town of Cliverton. I will make 
 sure of your taking it all home again, by 
 leaving it here in more trustworthy hands 
 than yours, until we ride back. Bessie, my
 
 140 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 dear, what do you say to that, as a lesson in 
 economy inflicted on a prudent husband by a 
 spendthrift wife ? " 
 
 She took Mr. Knifton's arm while she 
 spoke, and drew him away to the door. He 
 protested, and made some resistance, but she 
 easily carried her point, for he was far too 
 fond of her to have a will of his own in any 
 trifling matter between them. Whatever the 
 men might say, Mr. Knifton was a model 
 husband in the estimation of all the women 
 who knew him. 
 
 '' You will see us as we come back, Bessie. 
 Till then, you are our banker, and the pocket- 
 book is yours," cried Mrs. Knifton, gaily, 
 at the door. Her husband lifted her into the 
 saddle, mounted himself, and away they both 
 galloped over the moor, as wild and happy as 
 a couple of children. 
 
 Although my being trusted with money by
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 141 
 
 Mrs. Knifton was no novelty (in her maiden 
 days she always employed me to pay her 
 dress-maker's bills), I did not feel quite easy 
 at having a pocket-book full of bank notes 
 left by her in my charge. I had no positive 
 apprehensions about the safety of the deposit 
 placed in my hands ; but it was one of the 
 odd points in my character then (and I think 
 it is still), to feel an unreasonably strong 
 objection to charging myself with money re- 
 sponsibilities of any kind, even to suit the 
 convenience of my dearest friends. As soon 
 as I was left alone, the very sight of the 
 pocket-book behind the glass-door of the 
 book-case began to worry me ; and instead 
 of returning to my work, I puzzled my 
 brains about finding a place to lock it up in, 
 where it would not be exposed to the view of 
 any chance passers-by, who might stray into 
 the Black Cottage.
 
 142 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 This was not an easy matter to com- 
 pass in a poor house like ours, where 
 we had nothing valuable to put under lock 
 and key. After running over various hiding- 
 places in my mind, I thought of my tea- 
 caddy, a present from Mrs. Knifton, which 
 I always kept out of harm's way in my 
 own bedroom. Most unluckily — as it after- 
 wards turned out — instead of taking the 
 pocket book to the tea-caddy, I went into 
 my room first to take the tea-caddy to 
 the pocket-book. I only acted in this 
 roundabout way from sheer thoughtlessness, 
 and severely enough I was punished for 
 it, as you will acknowledge yourself when 
 you have read a page or two more of my 
 story. 
 
 I was just getting the unlucky tea-caddy 
 out of my cupboard, when I heard foot- 
 steps in the passage, and running out im-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 143 
 
 mediately, saw two men walk into the 
 kitchen — the room in which I had received 
 Mr. and Mrs. Knifton. I inquired what 
 they wanted, sharply enough, and one of 
 them answered immediately that they wanted 
 my father. He turned towards me, of 
 course, as he spoke, and I recognised him 
 as a stonemason, going among his comrades 
 by the name of Shifty Dick. He bore a 
 very bad character for everything but 
 wrestling — a sport for which the working 
 men of our parts were famous all through 
 the county. Shifty Dick was champion, 
 and he had got his name from some tricks 
 in wrestling, for which he was celebrated. 
 He was a tall, heavy man, with a lower- 
 ing, scarred face, and huge hairy hands 
 — the last visitor in the whole world that 
 I should have been glad to see under any 
 circumstances. His companion was a
 
 144 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 stranger, whom he adressed by the name of 
 Jerry — a quick, dapper, wicked-looking man, 
 who took off his cap to me with mock polite- 
 ness, and showed, in so doing, a very bald head 
 with some very ugly-looking nobs on it. 
 I distrusted him worse than I did Shifty 
 Dick, and managed to get between his 
 leering eyes and the bookcase, as I told 
 the two that my father was gone out, and 
 that I did not expect him back till the next day. 
 
 The words were hardly out of my mouth 
 before I repented that my anxiety to get 
 rid of my unwelcome visitors had made me 
 incautious enough to acknowledge that my 
 father would be away from home for the 
 whole night. 
 
 Shifty Dick and his companion looked at 
 each other when I unwisely let out the 
 truth, but made no remark, except to ask me 
 if I would give them a drop of cider. I
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 145 
 
 answered, sharply, that I had no cider in 
 the house — having no fear of the conse- 
 quences of refusing them drink, because I 
 knew that plenty of men were at work within 
 hail, in a neighbouring quarry. The two 
 looked at each other again, when I denied 
 having any cider to give them ; and Jerry (as 
 I am obliged to call him, knowing no other 
 name by which to distinguish the fellow) 
 took off his cap to me once more, and, with a 
 kind of blackguard gentility upon him, said 
 they would have the pleasure of calling the 
 next day, when my father was at home. I 
 said good afternoon as ungraciously as possi- 
 ble ; and, to my great relief, they both left 
 the cottage immediately afterwards. 
 
 As soon as they were well away, I watched 
 them from the door. They trudged off in the 
 direction of Moor Farm ; and, as it was be- 
 ginning to get dusk, I soon lost sight of them. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards I looked out 
 again. 
 
 The wind had lulled with the sunset, 
 but the mist was rising, and a heavy 
 rain was beginning to fall. Never did the 
 lonely prospect of the moor look so dreary 
 as it looked to my eyes that evening. Never 
 did I regret any slight thing more sin- 
 cerely than I then regretted the leaving 
 of Mr. Knifton's pocket-book in my charge. 
 I cannot say that I suffered under any 
 actual alarm, for I felt next to certain that 
 neither Shifty Dick nor Jerry had got a 
 chance of setting eyes on so small a thing 
 as the pocket-book, while they were in the 
 kitchen; but there was a kind of vague 
 distrust troubling me — a suspicion of the 
 night — a dislike at being left by myself, 
 which I never remember having experienced 
 before. This feeling so increased, after I
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 147 
 
 had closed the door and gone back to the 
 kitchen, that, when I heard the voices of 
 the quarrymen, as they passed our cottage 
 on their way home to the village in the 
 valley below Moor Farm, I stepped out 
 into the passage with a momentary notion 
 of telling them how I was situated, and 
 asking them for advice and protection. 
 
 I had hardly formed this idea, how- 
 ever, before I dismissed it. None of the 
 quarry men were intimate friends of mine. 
 I had a nodding acquaintance with them, 
 and believed them to be honest men, as 
 times went. But my own common sense 
 told me that what little knowledge of 
 their characters I had, was by no means 
 sufficient to warrant me in admitting them 
 into my confidence in the matter of the 
 pocket-book. I had seen enough of poverty 
 and poor men to know what a terrible 
 
 l2
 
 148 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 temptation a large sum of money is to 
 those whose whole lives are passed in 
 scraping up sixpences by weary hard work. 
 It is one thing to write fine sentiments 
 in books about incorruptible honesty, and 
 another thing to put those sentiments in 
 practice, when one day's work is all that 
 a man has to set up in the way of an 
 obstacle between starvation and his own 
 fireside. 
 
 The only resource that remained was 
 to carry the pocket-book with me to 
 Moor Farm, and ask permission to pass 
 the night there. But I could not persuade 
 myself that there was any real necessity 
 for taking such a course as this; and, if 
 the truth must be told, my pride revolted 
 at the idea of presenting myself in the 
 character of a coward before the people 
 at the farm. Timidity is thought rather
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 149 
 
 a graceful attraction among ladies, but 
 among poor women it is something to be 
 laughed at. A woman with less spirit of 
 her own than I had, and always shall have, 
 would have considered twice in my situation 
 before she made up her mind to encounter the 
 jokes of ploughmen and the jeers of milkmaids. 
 As for me, I had hardly considered about 
 going to the farm before I despised myself 
 for entertaining any such notion. "No, 
 no," thought I, " I am not the woman 
 to walk a mile and a half through rain, 
 and mist, and darkness, to tell a whole 
 kitchenful of people that I am afraid. 
 Come what may, here I stop till father 
 gets back." 
 
 Having arrived at that valiant resolu- 
 tion, the first thing I did was to lock 
 and bolt the back and front doors, and 
 see to the security of every shutter in 
 the house.
 
 150 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 That duty performed, I made a blazing 
 fire, lighted my candle, and sat down to 
 tea, as snug and comfortable as possible. 
 I could hardly believe now, with the light 
 in the room, and the sense of security 
 inspired by the closed doors and shutters, 
 that I had ever felt even the slightest 
 apprehension earlier in the day. I sang 
 as I washed up the tea-things; and even 
 the cat seemed to catch the infection of 
 my good spirits. I never knew the pretty 
 creature so playful as she was that evening. 
 
 The tea-things put by, I took up my 
 knitting, and worked away at it so long 
 that I began at last to get drowsy. The 
 lire was so bright and comforting that I 
 could not muster resolution enough to leave 
 it and go to bed. I sat staring lazily into 
 the blaze, with my knitting on my lap — 
 sat till the splashing of the rain outside,
 
 THH QUEEN OF HEARTS. 151 
 
 and the fitful, sullen sobbing of the wind, 
 grew fainter and fainter on my ear. The 
 last sounds I heard before I fairly dozed 
 off to sleep were the cheerful crackling of 
 the fire and the steady purring of the cat, 
 as she basked luxuriously in the warm 
 light on the hearth. Those were the last 
 sounds before I fell asleep. The sound 
 that woke me was one loud bang at the 
 fi'ont door. 
 
 I started up, with my heart (as the 
 saying is) in my mouth, with a frightful 
 momentary shuddering at the roots of my 
 hair — I started up breathless, cold, and 
 motionless ; waiting in the silence, I 
 hardly knew for what; doubtful, at first, 
 whether I had dreamed about the bang 
 at the door, or whether the blow had really 
 been struck on it. 
 
 In a minute, or less, there came a second
 
 152 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 bang, louder than the first. I ran out 
 into the passage. 
 
 ^^ Who's there?" 
 
 "Let us in," answered a voice, which 
 I recognized immediately as the voice of 
 Shifty Dick. 
 
 "Wait a bit, my dear, and let me 
 explain," said a second voice, in the low, 
 oily, jeering tones of Dick's companion — 
 the wickedly clever little man whom he 
 called Jerry. " You are alone in the 
 house, my pretty little dear. You may 
 crack your sweet voice with screeching, 
 and there's nobody near to hear you. 
 Listen to reason, my love, and let us in. 
 We dont want cider this time — we only 
 want a very neat-looking pocket-book which 
 yon happen to have, and your late excellent 
 mother's four silver tea spoons, which you 
 keep so nice and clean on the chimney-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 153 
 
 piece. If you let us in, we won't hurt a 
 hair of your head, my cherub, and we 
 promise to go away the moment we have 
 got what we want, unless you particularly 
 wish us to stop to tea. If you keep us 
 out, we shall be obliged to break into the 
 house, and then — " 
 
 "And then,'' burst in Shifty Dick, 
 ^^ we'll mash you !" 
 
 "Yes," said Jerry, "we'll mash you, my 
 beauty. But you won't drive us to doing 
 that, will you? You will let us in?" 
 
 This long parley gave me time to recover 
 from the effect which the first bang at the 
 door had produced on my nerves. The 
 threats of the two villains would have 
 terrified some women out of their senses ; 
 but the only result they produced on me 
 was violent indignation. I had, thank God, 
 a strong spirit of my own ; and the cool,
 
 154 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 contemptuous insolence of the man Jerry 
 effectually roused it. 
 
 '^ You cowardly villians !" I screamed at 
 them through the door. ^' You think you 
 can frighten me because I am only a poor 
 girl left alone in the house. You raga- 
 muffin thieves, I defy you both ! Our bolts 
 are strong, our shutters are thick. I am 
 here to keep my father's house safe; and 
 keep it I will against an army of you !" 
 
 You may imagine what a passion I was 
 in when I vapoured and blustered in that 
 way. I heard Jerry laugh, and Shifty 
 Dick swear a whole mouthful of oaths. 
 Then there was a dead silence for a minute 
 or two ; and then the two ruffians attacked 
 the door. 
 
 I rushed into the kitchen and seized 
 the poker, and then heaped wood on the 
 fire, and lighted all the candles I could
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 155 
 
 find ; for I felt as though I could keep 
 up my courage better if I had plenty of 
 light. Strange and improbable as it may 
 appear, the next thing that attracted my 
 attention was my poor pussy, crouched 
 up, panic-stricken, in a corner. I was 
 so fond of the little creature that I took 
 her up in my arms and carried her into 
 my bedroom, and put her inside my bed. 
 A comical thing to do in a situation of 
 deadly peril, was it not? But it seemed 
 quite natural and proper at the time. 
 
 All this while the blows were falling 
 faster and faster on the door. They were 
 dealt, as I conjectured, with heavy stones 
 picked up from the ground outside. Jerry 
 sang at his wicked work, and Shifty Dick 
 swore. As I left the bedroom, after putting 
 the cat under cover, I heard the lower 
 panel of the door begin to crack.
 
 156 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 I ran into the kitchen and huddled our 
 four silver spoons into my pocket; then 
 took the unlucky book with the bank- 
 notes and put it in the bosom of my 
 dress. I was determined to defend the 
 property confided to my care with my 
 life. Just as I had secured the pocket- 
 book I heard the door splintering, and 
 rushed into the passage again with my 
 heavy kitchen poker lifted in both hands. 
 
 I was in time to see the bald head of 
 Jerry, with the ugly-looking knobs on it, 
 pushed into the passage through a great 
 rent in one of the lower panels of the 
 door. 
 
 "Get out, you villian, or I'll brain 
 you on the spot !" I screeched, threatening 
 him with the poker. 
 
 Mr. Jerry took his head out again much 
 faster than he put it in.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 157 
 
 The next thing that came through the 
 rent was a long pitchfork, which they 
 darted at me from the outside, to move 
 me from the door. I struck at it with 
 all my might, and the blow must have 
 jarred the hand of Shifty Dick up to his 
 very shoulder, for I heard him give a roar 
 of rage and pain. Before he could catch 
 at the fork with his other hand, I had 
 drawn it inside. By this time, even Jerry 
 lost his temper, and swore more awfully 
 than Dick himself. 
 
 Then there came another minute of 
 respite. I suspected they had gone to 
 get bigger stones, and I dreaded the giving 
 way of the whole door. 
 
 Running into the bedroom as this fear 
 beset me, I laid hold of my chest of 
 drawers, dragged it into the passage, and 
 threw it down against the door. On the
 
 158 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 top of that I heaped my father's big 
 tool chest, three chairs, and a scuttle- 
 ful of coals — and last, I dragged out 
 the kitchen-table and rammed it as hard 
 as I could against the Avhole barricade. 
 They heard me as they were coming up 
 to the door with fresh stones. Jerry said, 
 " Stop a bit,'' and then the two consulted 
 together in whispers. I listened eagerly, 
 and just caught these words : 
 
 " Let's try it the other way." 
 
 Nothing more was said, but I heard 
 their footsteps retreating from the door. 
 
 Were they going to besiege the back- 
 door now? 
 
 I had hardly asked myself that question 
 when I heard their voices at the other 
 side of the house. The back-door was 
 smaller than the front; but it had this 
 advantage in the way of strength— it
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 159 
 
 was made of two solid oak boards, joined 
 longwise, and strengthened inside by 
 heavy cross pieces. It had no bolts like 
 the front door, but was fastened by a bar 
 of iron, running across it in a slanting 
 direction, and fitting at either end into 
 the wall. 
 
 "They must have the whole cottage 
 down before they can break in at that 
 door,'' I thought to myself. And they 
 soon found out as much for themselves. 
 After five minutes of banging at the back 
 door, they gave up any farther attack in 
 that direction, and cast their heavy stones 
 down with curses of fury awful to hear. 
 
 I went into the kitchen and dropped 
 on the window-seat to rest for a moment. 
 Suspense and excitement together were be- 
 ginning to tell upon me. The perspiration 
 broke out thick on my forehead, and I
 
 160 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 began to feel the bruises I had inflicted 
 on my hands in making the barricade 
 against the front door. I had not lost a 
 particle of my resolution, but I was be- 
 ginning to lose strength. There was a bottle 
 of rum in the cupboard, which my brother 
 the sailor had left with us the last time he was 
 ashore. I drank a drop of it. Never 
 before or since have I put anything down 
 my throat that did me half so much 
 good as that precious mouthful of rum. 
 
 I was still sitting in the window seat 
 drying my face, when I suddenly heard 
 their voices close behind me. 
 
 They were feeling the outside of the 
 window against which I was sitting. It 
 was protected, like all the other windows 
 in the cottage, by iron bars. I listened 
 in dreadful suspense for the sound of 
 filing, but nothing of the sort was audible.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 161 
 
 Thej had evidently reckoned on frightening 
 me easily into letting them in, and had come 
 unprovided with house-breaking tools of 
 any kind. A fresh burst of oaths in- 
 formed me that they had recognized the 
 obstacle of the iron bars. I listened 
 breathlessly for some warning of what 
 they were going to do next, but their 
 voices seemed to die away in the distance. 
 They were retreating from the window. 
 Were they also retreating from the house 
 altogether? Had they given up the 
 idea of effecting an entrance in despair? 
 
 A long silence followed — a silence which 
 tried my courage even more severely than 
 the tumult of their first attack on the 
 cottage. 
 
 Dreadful suspicions now beset me of 
 their being able to accomplish by treachery 
 what they had failed to effect by force. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Well as I knew the cottage, I began to 
 doubt whether there might not be ways 
 of cunningly and silently entering it 
 against which I was not provided. The 
 ticking of the clock annoyed me; the 
 crackling of the fire startled me. I looked out 
 twenty times in a minute into the dark corners 
 of the passage, straining my eyes, holding my 
 breath, anticipating the most unlikely events, 
 the most impossible dangers. Had they 
 really gone? or were they still prowling 
 about the house? Oh, what a sum of 
 money I would have given, only to have 
 known what they were about in that interval 
 of silence ! 
 
 I was startled at last out of my sus- 
 pense in the most awful manner. A shout 
 from one of them reached my ears on a 
 sudden down the kitchen chimney. It 
 was so unexpected and so horrible in the
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 163 
 
 stillness, that I screamed for the first time 
 since the attack on the house. My worst 
 forebodings had never suggested to me that 
 the two villains might mount upon the 
 roof. 
 
 " Let us in, you she devil !" roared a 
 voice down the chimney. 
 
 There was another pause. The smoke 
 from the wood fire, thin and light as it 
 was in the red state of the embers at 
 that moment, had evidently obliged the man 
 to take his face from the mouth of the 
 chimney. I counted the seconds while 
 he was, as I conjectured, getting his breath 
 again. In less than half a minute there 
 came another shout : 
 
 " Let us in, or we'll burn the place 
 down over your head." 
 
 Burn it ? Burn what ? There was 
 nothing easily combustible but the thatch 
 
 m2
 
 164 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 on the roof ; and that had been well 
 soaked bj the heavy rain which had now 
 fallen incessantly for more than six hours. 
 Burn the place over my head? How? 
 
 While I was still casting about wildly 
 in my mind to discover what possible 
 danger there could be of fire, one of the 
 heavy stones placed on the thatch to keep 
 it from being torn up by high winds, 
 came thundering down the chimney. It 
 scattered the live embers on the hearth 
 all over the room. A richly furnished 
 place, with knickknacks and fine muslin 
 about it, would have been set on fire 
 immediately. Even our bare floor and 
 rough furniture gave out a smell of burn- 
 ing at the first shower of embers which 
 the first stone scattered. 
 
 For an instant I stood quite horror- 
 struck before this new proof of the devilish
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 165 
 
 ingenuity of the villains outside. But the 
 dreadful danger I was now in recalled 
 me to my senses immediately. There 
 /was a large canful of water in my bedroom, 
 and I ran in at once to fetch it. Before 
 I could get back to the kitchen, a second 
 stone had been thrown down the chimney, 
 and the floor was smouldering in several 
 places. 
 
 I had wit enough to let the smoulder- 
 ing go on for a moment or two more, 
 and to pour the whole of my canful of 
 water over the fire before the third stone 
 came down the chimney. The live embers 
 on the floor I easily disposed of after that. 
 The man on the roof must have heard the 
 hissing of the fire as I put it out, and 
 have felt the change produced in the air 
 at the mouth of the chimney ; for after 
 the third stone had descended, no more
 
 166 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 followed it. As for either of the ruffians 
 themselves dropping down by the same 
 road along which the stones had come, 
 that was not to be dreaded. The chim- 
 ney, as I well knew by our experience 
 in cleaning it, was too narrow to give 
 passage to anyone above the size of a 
 small boy. 
 
 I looked upwards as that comforting re- 
 flection crossed my mind — I looked up, 
 and saw, as plainly as I see the paper 
 I am now writing on, the point of a 
 knife coming through the inside of the 
 roof just over my head. Our cottage 
 had no upper story, and our rooms had no 
 ceilings. Slowly and wickedly the knife 
 wriggled its way through the dry inside 
 thatch between the rafters. It stopped for 
 a while, and there came a sound of tearing. 
 That, in its turn, stopped too ; there was
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 167 
 
 a great fall of dry thatch on the floor ; 
 and I saw the heavy, hairy hand of Shifty 
 Dick, armed with the knife, come through 
 after the fallen fragments. He tapped at 
 the rafters with the back of the knife, a? 
 if to test their strength. Thank God, they 
 were substantial and close together ! No- 
 thing lighter than a hatchet would have 
 sufficed to remove any part of them. 
 
 The murderous hand was still tapping 
 with the knife, when I heard a shout from 
 the man Jerry, coming from the neighbour- 
 hood of my father's stone-shed in the back 
 yard. The hand and knife disappeared in- 
 stantly. I went to the back door and put 
 my ear to it, and listened. 
 
 Both men were now in the shed. I 
 made the most desperate efforts to call to 
 mind what tools and other things were left 
 in it, which might be used against me. But
 
 168 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 my agitation confused me. I could remem- 
 ber nothing except my father's big stone 
 saw, which was far too heavy and unwieldy 
 to be used on the roof of the cottage. I 
 was still puzzling my brains and making my 
 head swim to no purpose, when I heard 
 the men dragging something out of the shed. 
 At the same instant when the noise caught 
 my ear, the remembrance flashed across me 
 like lightning of some beams of wood which 
 had lain in the shed for years past. I 
 had hardly time to feel certain that they 
 were removing one of these beams, before 
 I heard Shifty Dick say to Jerry : — 
 
 "Which door?" 
 
 " The front," was the answer. " We've 
 cracked it already; we'll have it down now 
 in no time." 
 
 Senses less sharpened by danger than mine 
 would have understood but too easily, from
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 169 
 
 these words, that thej were about to use the 
 beam as a battering-ram against the door. 
 When that conviction overcame me, I lost 
 courage at last. I felt that the door must 
 come down. Ko such barricade as I had 
 constructed could support it, for more than 
 a few minutes, against such shocks as it 
 was now to receive. 
 
 "I can do no more to keep the house 
 against them," I said to myself, with mj 
 knees knocking together, and the tears at 
 last beginning to wet my cheeks. ^^ I must 
 trust to the night and the thick darkness, 
 and save my life by running for it while 
 there is yet time." 
 
 I huddled on my cloak and hood, and 
 had my hand on the bar of the back-door, when 
 a piteous mew from the bed-room reminded 
 me of the existence of poor Pussy. I ran 
 in, and huddled the creature up in my
 
 1 70 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 apron. Before I was out in the passage 
 again, the first shock from the beam fell 
 on the door. 
 
 The upper hinge gave way. The chairs 
 and the coal-scuttle forming the top of my 
 barricade were hurled, rattling, on to the 
 floor ; but the lower hinge of the door, and 
 the chest of drawers and tool-chest, still kept 
 their places. 
 
 " One more," I heard the villains cry — 
 "one more run with the beam, and down 
 it comes ! " 
 
 Just as they must have been starting 
 for that " one more run," I opened the 
 back door and fled out into the night, with 
 the book full of bank-notes in my bosom, 
 the silver spoons in my pocket, and the cat 
 in my arms. I threaded my way easily 
 enough through the familiar obstacles in the 
 back-yard, and was out in the pitch dark-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS- 171 
 
 ness of the moor, before I heard the second 
 shock, and the crash which told me that the 
 whole door had given way. 
 
 In a few minutes they must have discover- 
 ed the fact of my flight with the pocket- 
 book, for I heard shouts in the distance as 
 if they were running out to pursue me. 
 I kept on at the top of my speed, and 
 the noise soon died away. It was so 
 dark that twenty thieves, instead of two, 
 would have found it useless to follow 
 me. 
 
 How long it was before I reached the 
 farm-house — the nearest place to which I 
 could fly for refuge — I cannot tell you. I 
 remember that I had just sense enough to 
 keep the wind at my back (having ob- 
 served in the beginning of the evening that 
 it blew toward Moor Farm), and to go on 
 resolutely through the darkness. In all 
 
 ^.
 
 172 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 other respects, I was by this time half- 
 crazed by what I had gone through. If it 
 had so happened that the wind had changed 
 after I had observed its direction early in 
 the evening, I should have gone astray, 
 and have probably perished of fatigue and 
 exposure on the moor. Providentially, it 
 still blew steadily as it had blown for 
 hours past, and I reached the farm-house 
 with my clothes wet through, and my 
 brain in a high fever. When I made my 
 alarm at the door, they had all gone to 
 bed but the farmer's eldest son, who was 
 sitting up late over his pipe and newspaper. 
 I just mustered strength enough to gasp 
 out a few words, telling him what was the 
 matter, and then fell down at his feet, 
 for the first time in my life, in a dead 
 swoon. 
 
 That swoon was followed by a severe
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS, 173 
 
 illness. When I got strong enough to look 
 about me again, I found myself in one 
 of the farm-house beds — my father, Mrs. 
 Knifton, and the doctor, were all in the 
 room — my cat was asleep at my feet, 
 and the pocket-book that I had saved lay 
 on the table by my side. 
 
 There was plenty of news for me to hear, 
 as soon as I was fit to listen to it. Shifty 
 Dick and the other rascal had been caught, 
 and were in prison, waiting their trial at' 
 the next assizes. Mr. and Mrs. Knifton 
 had been so shocked at the danger I had 
 run — for which they blamed their own want 
 of thoughtfulness in leaving the pocket- 
 book in my care — that they had insisted 
 on my father's removing from our lonely 
 home to a cottage on their land, which 
 we were to inhabit rent free. The bank-notes 
 that I had saved were given to me to buy
 
 174 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 furniture with, in place of the things that the 
 thieves had broken. These pleasant tidings 
 assisted so greatly in promoting my re- 
 covery, that I was soon able to relate 
 to my friends at the farm house the 
 particulars that I have written here. They 
 were all surprised and interested ; but no 
 one, as I thought, listened to me with such 
 breathless attention as the farmer's eldest 
 son. Mrs. Knifton noticed this, too, and 
 began to make jokes about it, in her light- 
 hearted way, as soon as we were alone. 
 I thought little of her jesting at the time; 
 but when I got well, and we went to live 
 at our new home, ^*the young farmer," 
 as he was called in our parts, constantly 
 came to see us, and constantly managed 
 to meet me out of doors. I had my 
 share of vanity, like other young women, 
 and I began to think of Mrs. Knifton's
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 175 
 
 jokes with some attention. To be brief, 
 the young farmer managed one Sunday 
 — I never could tell how — to lose his way 
 with me in returning from Church, and 
 before we found out the right road home 
 again, he had asked me to be his 
 wife. 
 
 His relations did all they could to keep 
 us asunder and break off the match^ think- 
 ing a poor stone-mason's daughter no fit 
 wife for a prosperous yeoman. But the 
 farmer was too obstinate for them. He had 
 one form of answer to all their objections. 
 " A man, if he is worth the name, marries 
 according to his own notions, and to please 
 himself," he used to say. " My notion is, 
 that when I take a wife I am placing 
 my character and my happiness — the most 
 precious things I have to trust — in one 
 woman's care. The woman I mean
 
 176 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 to marry had a small charge confided to 
 her care, and showed herself worthy of 
 it at the risk of her life. That is proof 
 enough for me that she is worthy of the 
 greatest charge I can put into her hands. 
 Eank and riches are fine things, but the 
 certainty of getting a good wife is some- 
 thing better still. I'm of age, I know 
 my own mind, and I mean to marry the 
 stonemason's daughter." 
 
 And he did marry me. Whether I 
 proved myself worthy or not of his good 
 opinion is a question which I must leave 
 you to ask my husband. All that I had to 
 relate about myself and my doings is now 
 told. Whatever interest my perilous adven- 
 ture may excite, ends, I am well aware, with 
 my escape to the farmhouse. I have 
 only ventured on writing these few addi- 
 tional sentences, because my marriage is
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 177 
 
 the moral of my story. It has brought 
 me the choicest blessings of happiness and 
 prosperity ; and I owe them all to my night- 
 adventure in The Black Cottage, 
 
 VOL. I. IT
 
 178 
 
 THE SECOND DAY. 
 
 A CLEAR, cloudless, bracing autumn morn- 
 ing. I rose gaily, with the pleasant con- 
 viction on my mind that our experiment 
 had, thus far, been successful beyond our 
 hopes. 
 
 Short and slight as the first story had 
 been, the result of it on Jessie's mind 
 had proved conclusive. Before I could put 
 the question to her, she declared of her 
 own accord, and with her customary exaggera- 
 tion, that she had definitely abandoned all
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 179 
 
 idea of writing to her aunt until our col- 
 lection of narratives was exhausted. 
 
 ** I am in a fever of curiosity about 
 what is to come/' she said, when we all 
 parted for the night, '^ and, even if I 
 wanted to leave you, I could not possibly 
 go away now, without hearing the stories 
 to the end." 
 
 So far, so good. All my anxieties, from 
 this time, were for George's return. Again, 
 to-day, I searched the newspapers ; and 
 again there were no tidings of the ship. 
 
 Miss Jessie occupied the second day 
 by a drive to our county town to make 
 some little purchases. Owen, and Morgan, 
 and I were all hard at work, during her 
 absence, on the stories that still remained 
 to be completed. Owen desponded about 
 ever getting done ; Morgan grumbled at 
 what he called the absurd difficulty of 
 
 n2
 
 1 80 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 writing nonsense ; I worked on smoothly and 
 contentedly, stimulated by the success of the 
 first night. 
 
 We assembled, as before, in our guest's 
 sitting-room. As the clock struck eight, she 
 drew out the second card. It was Number 
 Two. The lot had fallen on me to read 
 next. 
 
 ^* Although my story is told in the first 
 person," I said, addressing Jessie, *^you 
 must not suppose that the events related 
 in this particular case happened to me. 
 They happened to a friend of mine, who 
 naturally described them to me from his 
 own personal point of view. In producing 
 my narrative from the recollection of what 
 he told me, some years since, I have supposed 
 myself to be listening to him again, and have, 
 therefore, written in his character; and, when- 
 ever my memory would help me, as nearly as
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 181 
 
 possible in his language also. By this means, 
 I hope I have succeeded in giving an air of 
 reality to a story which has truth, at any rate, 
 to recommend it. I must ask you to ex- 
 cuse me if I enter into no details in offer- 
 ing this short explanation. Although the 
 persons concerned in my narrative have 
 ceased to exist, it is necessary to observe 
 all due delicacy towards their memories. 
 Who they were, and how I became ac- 
 quainted with them, are matters of no 
 moment. The interest of the story, such 
 as it is, stands in no need, in this in- 
 stance, of any assistance from personal ex- 
 planations." 
 
 With those words, I addressed myself to 
 my task, and read as follows : —
 
 182 
 
 BROTHER GRIFFITH'S STORY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FAMILY SECRET. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Was it an Englishman or a Frenchman 
 who first remarked that every family had a 
 skeleton in its cupboard ? I am not learned 
 enough to know ; but I reverence the obser- 
 vation, whoever made it. It speaks a start- 
 ling truth through an appropriately grim 
 metaphor — a truth which I have discovered 
 by practical experience. Our family had a 
 skeleton in the cupboard ; and the name of it 
 was Uncle George. 
 
 I arrived at the knowledge that this skel-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 183 
 
 eton existed, and I traced it to the par- 
 ticular cupboard in which it was hidden, 
 by slow degrees. I was a child when I 
 first began to suspect that there was such 
 a thing, and a grown man when I at 
 last discovered that my suspicions were 
 true. 
 
 My father was a doctor, having an ex- 
 cellent practice in a large country-town. I 
 have heard that he married against the 
 wishes of his family. They could not object 
 to my mother on the score of birth, breed- 
 ing, or character — they only disliked her 
 heartily. My grandfather, grandmother, un- 
 cles, and aunts, all declared that she was 
 a heartless, deceitful woman ; all disliked 
 her manners, her opinions, and even the 
 expression of her face — all, with the one 
 exception of my father's youngest brother, 
 George.
 
 184 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 George was the unlucky member of our 
 family. The rest were all clever ; he was 
 slow in capacity. The rest were all remark- 
 ably handsome ; he was the sort of man 
 that no woman ever looks at twice. The rest 
 succeeded in life ; he failed. His profession 
 was the same as my father's; but he never 
 got on when he started in practice for him- 
 self The sick poor, who could not choose, 
 employed him, and liked him. The sick 
 rich, who could — especially the ladies — de- 
 clined to call him in when they could get any- 
 body else. In experience he gained greatly 
 by his profession ; in money and reputation 
 he gained nothing. 
 
 There are very few of us, however dull 
 and unattractive we may be to outward 
 appearance, who have not some strong 
 passion, some germ of what is called ro- 
 mance, hidden more or less deeply in our
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 185 
 
 natures. All the passion and romance in 
 the nature of my Uncle George lay in his 
 love and admiration for my father. 
 
 He sincerly worshipped his eldest brother, 
 as one of the noblest of human beings. 
 When my father was engaged to be married, 
 and when the rest of the family, as I have 
 already mentioned, did not hesitate to express 
 their unfavourable opinion of the disposition 
 of his chosen wife, Uncle George, who had 
 never ventured on differing with any one 
 before, to the amazement of every body 
 undertook the defence of his future sister-in- 
 law in the most vehement and positive man- 
 ner. In his estimation, his brothers's choice 
 was something sacred and indisputable. The 
 lady might, and did, treat him with un- 
 concealed contempt, laugh at his awkward- 
 ness, grow impatient at his stammering — 
 it made no difference to Uncle George.
 
 186 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 She was to be his brother's wife ; and, in vir- 
 tue of that one great fact, she became, in the 
 estimation of the poor surgeon, a very queen, 
 who, by the laws of the domestic constitution, 
 could do no wrong. 
 
 When my father had been married a little 
 while, he took his youngest brother to live 
 with him as his assistant. 
 
 If Uncle George had been made President 
 of the College of Surgeons, he could not have 
 been prouder and happier than he was in his 
 new position. I am afraid my father never 
 understood the depth of his brother's affec- 
 tion for him. All the hard work fell to 
 George's share : the long journeys at night, 
 the physicking of wearisome poor people, the 
 drunken cases, the revolting cases — all the 
 drudging, dirty business of the surgery, in 
 short, was turned over to him ; and day after 
 day, month after month, he struggled through
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 187 
 
 it without a murmur. When his brother and 
 his sister-in-law went out to dine with the 
 county gentry, it never entered his head 
 to feel disappointed at being left unnoticed 
 at home. When the return dinners were 
 given, and he was asked to come in at tea- 
 time, and left to sit unregarded in a corner, 
 it never occurred to him to imagine that he 
 was treated with any want of consideration 
 or respect. He was part of the furniture of 
 the house, and it was the business as well as 
 the pleasure of his life, to turn himself to any 
 use to which his brother might please to put 
 him. 
 
 So much for what I have heard from others 
 on the subject of my Uncle George. My own 
 personal experience of him is limited to what 
 I remember as a mere child. Let me say 
 something, however, first about my parents, 
 my sister, and myself
 
 -188 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 My sister was the eldest born and the best 
 loved. I did not come into the world till 
 four years after her birth ; and no other child 
 followed me. Caroline, from her earliest days, 
 was the perfection of beauty and health. I 
 was small, weakly, and, if the truth must be 
 told, almost as plain-featured as Uncle George 
 himself It would be ungracious and unduti- 
 ful in me to presume to decide whether there 
 was any foundation or not for the dislike that 
 my father's family always felt for my mother. 
 All I can venture to say is, that her children 
 never had any cause to complain of her. 
 
 Her passionate affection for my sister, her 
 pride in the child's beauty, I remember well; 
 as also her uniform kindness and indulgence 
 towards me. My personal defects must have 
 been a sore trial to her in secret, but neither 
 she nor my father ever showed me that they 
 perceived any difference between Caroline and
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 189 
 
 myself. When presents were made to my 
 sister, presents were made to me. When my 
 father and mother caught my sister up in 
 their arms and kissed her, they scrupulously 
 gave me my turn afterwards. My childish 
 instinct told me that there was a difference 
 in their smiles when they looked at me and 
 looked at her ; that the kisses given to Caro- 
 line were warmer than the kisses given to me ; 
 that the hands which dried her tears, in our 
 childish griefs, touched her more gently than 
 the hands which dried mine. But these, and 
 other small signs of preference like them, 
 were such as no parents could be expected 
 to control. I noticed them at the time rather 
 with wonder than with repining. I recall them 
 now without a harsh thought either towards 
 my father or my mother. Both loved me, and 
 both did their duty by me. If I seem to 
 speak constrainedly of them here, it is not on
 
 190 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 my own account. I can honestly say that 
 with all my heart and soul. 
 
 Even Uncle George, fond as he was of 
 me, was fonder of my beautiful child-sister. 
 
 When I used mischievously to pull at his lank 
 scanty hair, he would gently and laughingly 
 take it out of my hands; but he would let 
 Caroline tug at it till his dim, wandering, grey 
 eyes winked and watered again with pain. 
 He used to plunge perilously about the gar- 
 den, in awkward imitation of the cantering of 
 a horse, while I sat on his shoulders ; but he 
 would never proceed at any pace beyond a 
 slow and safe walk when Caroline had a ride 
 in her turn. When he took us out walking, 
 Caroline was always on the side next the 
 wall. When we interrupted him over his 
 dirty work in the surgery, he used to tell me 
 to go and play until he was ready for me ; 
 but he would put down his bottles, and clean
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 191 
 
 his clumsy fingers on his coarse apron, and 
 lead Caroline out again, as if she had been 
 the greatest lady in the land. Ah, how he 
 loved her ! — and, let me be honest and grate- 
 ful, and add, how he loved me too ! 
 
 When I was eight years old and Caroline 
 was twelve, I was separated jfrom home for 
 some time. I had been ailing for many 
 months previously ; had got benefit from 
 being taken to the seaside ; and had shown 
 symptoms of relapsing on being brought home 
 again to the midland county in which we 
 resided. After much consultation it was at 
 last resolved that I should be sent to live, 
 until my constitution got stronger, with a 
 maiden-sister of my mother's, who had a 
 house at a watering-place on the south coast. 
 
 I left home, I remember, loaded with pres- 
 ents, rejoicing over the prospect of looking 
 at the sea again, as careless of the future and
 
 192 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 as happy in the present as any boy could be. 
 Uncle George petitioned for a holiday to 
 take me to the sea-side, but he could not be 
 spared from the surgery. He consoled him- 
 self and me by promising to make me a 
 magnificent model of a ship. 
 
 I have that model before my eyes now 
 while I write. It is dusty with age ; the 
 paint on it is cracked, the ropes are tangled, 
 the sails are moth-eaten and yellow. The 
 hull is all out of proportion, and the rig has 
 been smiled at by every nautical friend of 
 mine who has ever looked at it. Yet, worn 
 out and faulty as it is — inferior to the cheapest 
 miniature vessel now-a-days in any toy-shop 
 window — I hardly know a possession of mine 
 in this world, that I would not sooner part 
 with than Uncle George's ship. 
 
 My life at the sea- side was a very happy 
 one. I remained with my aunt more than a
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 193 
 
 year. Mj mother often came to see how I was 
 going on, and, at first, always brought my sis- 
 ter with her. But, during the last eight months 
 of my stay, Caroline never once appeared. I 
 noticed also at the same period a change in 
 my mother's manner. She looked paler and 
 more anxious at each succeeding visit, and 
 always had long conferences in private with 
 my aunt. At last she ceased to come and 
 see us altogether, and only wrote to know 
 how my health was getting on. My father, 
 too, who had at the earlier periods of my 
 absence from home, travelled to the seaside to 
 watch the progress of my recovery as often as 
 his professional engagements would permit, 
 now kept away like my mother. Even Uncle 
 George, who had never been allowed a holi- 
 day to come and see me, but who had hitherto 
 often written and begged me to write to him, 
 broke off our correspondence. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 I was naturally perplexed and amazed by 
 these changes, and persecuted my aunt to tell 
 me the reason of them. At first she tried to 
 put me off with excuses ; then she admitted 
 that there was trouble in our house; and finally 
 she confessed that the trouble was caused by the 
 illness of my sister. When I inquired what 
 that illness was, my aunt said it was useless to 
 attempt to explain it to me. I next applied 
 to the servants. One of them was less 
 cautious than my aunt, and answered my 
 question, but in terms that I could not compre- 
 hend. After much explanation, I was made 
 to understand that ^^ something was growing 
 on my sister's neck that would spoil her 
 beauty for ever, and perhaps kill her, if it 
 could not be got rid of." How well I remem- 
 ber the shudder of horror that ran through 
 me at the vague idea of this deadly " some- 
 thing ! " A fearful, awe-struck curiosity to
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 195 
 
 see what Caroline's illness was with my own 
 eyes, troubled my inmost heart ; and I 
 begged to be allowed to go home and help to 
 nurse her. The request was, it is almost 
 needless to say, refused. 
 
 Weeks passed away, and still I heard 
 nothing, except that my sister continued to be 
 ill. 
 
 One day I privately wrote a letter to Uncle 
 George, asking him in my childish way to 
 come and tell me about Caroline's illness. 
 
 I knew where the post-office was, and slipped 
 out in the morning unobserved and dropped 
 my letter in the box. I stole home again by 
 the garden, and climbed in at the window of a 
 back parlour on the ground floor. The room 
 above was my aunt's bed-chamber, and the 
 moment I was inside the house, I heard moans 
 and loud convulsive sobs proceeding from it. 
 My aunt was a singularly quiet composed 
 
 2
 
 196 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 woman. I could not imagine that the loud 
 sobbing and moaning came from her ; and I 
 ran down terrified into the kitchen to ask the 
 servants who was crying so violently in my 
 aunt's room. 
 
 I found the housemaid and the cook talk- 
 ing together in whispers, with serious faces. 
 They started when they saw me, as if I had 
 been a grown-up master who had caught 
 them neglecting their work. 
 
 " He's too young to feel it much/' I heard 
 one say to the other. ^^ So far as he is con- 
 cerned, it seems like a mercy that it hap- 
 pened no later." 
 
 In a few minutes they had told me the 
 worst. It was my aunt who had been 
 crying in the bed-room. Caroline was dead. 
 
 I felt the blow more severely than the 
 servants or anyone else about me supposed. 
 Still I was a child in years, and I had the
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 197 
 
 blessed elasticity of a child's nature. If I 
 had been older, I might have been too 
 much absorbed in grief to observe my 
 aunt so closely as I did, when she was 
 composed enough to see me, later in the 
 day. 
 
 I was not surprised by the swollen 
 state of her eyes, the paleness of her 
 cheeks, or the fresh burst of tears that 
 came from her when she took me in her 
 arms at meeting. But I was both amazed 
 and perplexed by the look of terror 
 that I detected in her face. It was na- 
 tural enough that she should grieve and 
 weep over my sister's death; but why 
 should she have that frightened look, as 
 if some other catastrophe had happened? 
 
 I asked if there was any more dread- 
 ful news from home besides the news of 
 Caroline's death. My aunt said, No, in
 
 198 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 a strange stifled voice, and suddenly turned 
 her face from me. Was my father dead? 
 No. My mother? No. Uncle George? 
 My aunt trembled all over as she said 
 No, to that also, and bade me cease ask- 
 ing any more questions. She was not fit 
 to bear them yet, she said ; and signed 
 to the servant to lead me out of the 
 room. 
 
 The next day I was told that I was 
 to go home after the funeral, and was 
 taken out towards evening by the house- 
 maid, partly for a walk, partly to be 
 measured for my mourning clothes. After 
 we had left the tailor's, I persuaded the 
 girl to extend our walk for some distance 
 along the sea-beach, telling her, as we 
 went, every little anecdote connected with 
 my lost sister that came tenderly back 
 to ray memory in those first days of 
 
 I
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 199 
 
 sorrow. She was so interested in hear- 
 ing, and I in speaking, that we let the 
 sun go down before we thought of turn- 
 ing back. 
 
 The evening was cloudy, and it got 
 on from dusk to dark by the time we 
 approached the town again. The house- 
 maid was rather nervous at finding her- 
 self alone with me on the beach, and 
 once or twice looked behind her distrust- 
 fully as we went on. Suddenly she squeezed 
 my hand hard, and said — 
 
 "Let's get up on the clifi* as fast as 
 
 we can.'' 
 
 The words were hardly out of her mouth 
 before I heard footsteps behind me — a man 
 came round quickly to my side, snatched 
 me away from the girl, and catching 
 me up in his arms, without a word, 
 covered my face with kisses. I knew he
 
 200 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 was crying, because my cheeks were in- 
 stantly wet with his tears; but it was too 
 dark for me to see who he was, or even 
 how he was dressed. He did not, I 
 should think, hold me half a minute in 
 his arms. The housemaid screamed for 
 help, I was put down gently on the sand, 
 and the strange man instantly disappeared 
 in the darkness. 
 
 When this extraordinary adventure 
 was related to my aunt, she seemed at 
 first merely bewildered at hearing of it; 
 but in a moment more there came a 
 change over her face, as if she had sud- 
 denly recollected or thought of something. 
 She turned deadly pale, and said in a 
 hurried way, very unusual with her — 
 
 " Never mind ; don't talk about it any 
 more. It was only a mischievous trick 
 to frighten you, I dare say. Forget
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 201 
 
 all about it, my dear — forget all about 
 it." 
 
 It was easier to give this advice than 
 to make me follow it. For many nights 
 after, I thought of nothing but the strange 
 man who had kissed me and cried over 
 me. 
 
 Who could he be? Somebody who 
 loved me very much, and who was very 
 sorry. My childish logic carried me to 
 that length. But when I tried to think 
 over all the grown-up gentlemen who 
 loved me very much, I could never get 
 on, to my own satisfaction, beyond my 
 father and my uncle George.
 
 202 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I WAS taken home on the appointed day 
 to suffer the trial — a hard one even at 
 my tender years — of witnessing my mother's 
 passionate grief and my father's mute de- 
 spair. I remember that the scene of our 
 first meeting after Caroline's death was 
 wisely and considerately shortened by my 
 aunt, who took me out of the room. 
 She seemed to have a confused desire to 
 keep me from leaving her after the door 
 had closed behind us; but I broke away
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 203 
 
 and ran downstairs to the surgery, to 
 go and cry for mj lost playmate with 
 the sharer of all our games, Uncle 
 George. 
 
 I opened the surgery-door, and could see 
 nobody. I dried my tears, and looked all 
 round the room : it was empty. I ran 
 upstairs again to Uncle George^s garret- 
 bedroom — he was not there ; his cheap 
 hair-brush and old cast-off razor-case, that 
 had belonged to my grand-father, were not 
 on the dressing-table. Had he got some 
 other bedroom? I went out on the land- 
 ing, and called softly, with an unaccount- 
 able terror and sinking at my heart : — 
 
 "Uncle George!" 
 
 Nobody answered; but my aunt came 
 hastily up the garret-stairs. 
 
 " Hush ! " she said. " You must never 
 call that name out here again ! "
 
 204 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 She stopped suddenly, and looked as if 
 her own words had frightened her. 
 
 " Is Uncle George dead ? " I asked. 
 
 My aunt turned red and pale, and 
 stammered. 
 
 I did not wait to hear what she said 
 — I brushed past her, down the stairs — 
 my heart was bursting — my flesh felt cold. 
 I ran breathlessly and recklessly into the 
 room where my father and mother had 
 received me. They were both sitting there 
 still. I ran up to them, wringing my 
 hands, and crying out in a passion of tears — 
 
 "Is Uncle George dead?" 
 
 My mother gave a scream that terrified 
 me into instant silence and stillness. My 
 father looked at her for a moment, rang 
 the bell that summoned the maid, then 
 seized me roughly by the arm, and 
 dragged me out of the room.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 205 
 
 He took me down into the study, 
 seated himself in his accustomed chair, and 
 put me before him between his knees. 
 His lips were awfully white, and I felt 
 his two hands, as they grasped my shoul- 
 ders, shaking violently. 
 
 "You are never to mention the name of 
 Uncle George again," he said in a quick, 
 angry, trembling whisper. "Never to me, 
 never to your mother, never to your 
 aunt, never to anybody in this world! 
 Never, never, never ! " 
 
 The repetition of the word terrified me 
 even more than the suppressed vehemence 
 with which he spoke. He saw that I 
 was frightened, and softened his manner 
 a little before he went on. 
 
 " You will never see Uncle George 
 again," he said. "Your mother and I 
 love you dearly ; but if you forget what
 
 206 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 I have told you, you will be sent away 
 from home. Never speak that name again 
 — mind, never ! Now kiss me, and go 
 away." 
 
 How his lips trembled — and, oh, how 
 cold they felt on mine ! 
 
 I shrunk out of the room the moment 
 he had kissed me, and went and hid my- 
 self in the garden. 
 
 " Uncle George is gone ; I am never 
 to see him any more ; I am never to 
 speak of him again " — those were the 
 words I repeated to myself, with inde- 
 scribable terror and confusion, the moment 
 I was alone. There was something un- 
 speakably horrible to my young mind in 
 this mystery which I was commanded 
 always to respect, and which, so far as 
 I then knew, I could never hope to see 
 revealed. My father, my mother, my aunt
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 207 
 
 — all appeared to be separated from me 
 now by some impassable barrier. Home 
 seemed home no longer with Caroline dead, 
 Uncle George gone, and a forbidden sub- 
 ject of talk perpetually and mysteriously 
 interposing between my parents and me. 
 
 Though I never infringed the command 
 my father had given me in his study 
 (his words and looks, and that dreadful 
 scream of my mother's, which seemed to 
 be still ringing in my ears, were more than 
 enough to ensure my obedience), I also 
 never lost the secret desire to penetrate 
 the darkness which clouded over the fate 
 of Uncle George. 
 
 For two years I remained at home and 
 discovered nothing. If I asked the ser- 
 vants about my uncle, they could only 
 tell me that one morning he disappeared 
 from the house. Of the members of my
 
 208 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 father's family, I could make no inquiries. 
 They lived far away, and never came 
 to see us — and the idea of writing to 
 them, at my age and in my position, 
 was out of the question. My aunt was 
 as unapproachably silent as my father and 
 mother ; but I never forgot how her face 
 had altered, when she reflected for a mo- 
 ment, after hearing of my extraordinary 
 adventure while going home with the ser- 
 vant over the sands at night. The more I 
 thought of that change of countenance, in 
 connection with what had occurred on my 
 return to my father's house, the more 
 certain I felt that the stranger who had 
 kissed me and wept over me must have 
 been no other than Uncle George, 
 
 At the end of my two years at home, I 
 was sent to sea in the merchant navy by 
 my own earnest desire. I had always deter-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 209 
 
 mined to be a sailor from the time when 
 I first went to stay with my aunt at the 
 seaside — and I persisted long enough in my 
 resolution to make my parents recognise the 
 necessity of acceding to my wishes. 
 
 My new life delighted me ; and I re- 
 mained away on foreign stations more 
 than four years. When I at length returned 
 home, it was to find a new afiliction dark- 
 ening our fireside. My father had died 
 on the very day when I sailed for my 
 return voyage to England. 
 
 Absence and change of scene had in no 
 respect weakened my desire to penetrate the 
 mystery of Uncle George's disappearance. 
 My mother's health was so delicate, that I 
 hesitated for some time to approach the 
 forbidden subject in her presence. When I 
 at last ventured to refer to it, suggesting 
 to her that any prudent reserve, which 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 might have been necessary while I was a 
 child, need no longer be persisted in, now 
 that I was growing to be a young man, 
 she fell into a violent fit of trembling, and 
 commanded me to say no more. It had 
 been my father^ s will, she said, that the 
 reserve to which I referred should be 
 always adopted towards me ; he had not 
 authorised her, before he died, to speak 
 more openly ; and, now that he was gone, 
 she would not so much as think of act- 
 ing on her own unaided judgment. My 
 aunt said the same thing in effect when 
 I appealed to her. Determined not to be 
 discouraged even yet, I undertook a journey, 
 ostensibly to pay my respects to my father's 
 family, but with the secret intention of 
 trying what I could learn in that quarter 
 on the subject of Uncle George. 
 
 My investigations led to some results,
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 211 
 
 though they were by no means satisfactory. 
 George had always been looked upon with 
 something like contempt by his handsome 
 sisters and his prosperous brothers ; and he 
 had not improved his position in the family by 
 his warm advocacy of his brother's cause 
 at the time of my father's marriage. I 
 found that my uncle's surviving relatives 
 now spoke of him slightingly and care- 
 lessly. They assured me that they had 
 never heard from him, and that they knew 
 nothing about him, except that he had 
 gone away to settle, as they supposed, in 
 some foreign place, after having behaved 
 very basely and badly to my father. He 
 had been traced to London, where he had 
 sold out . of the funds the small share of 
 money which he had inherited after his 
 father's death, and he had been seen on 
 the deck of a packet bound for France, 
 
 p2
 
 212 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 later on the same day. Beyond this, 
 nothing was known about him. In what 
 the alleged baseness of his behaviour had 
 consisted, none of his brothers and sisters 
 could tell me. My father had refused to 
 pain them by going into particulars, not 
 only at the time of his brothers disap- 
 pearance, but afterwards whenever the sub- 
 ject was mentioned. George had always 
 been the black sheep of the flock, and he 
 must have been conscious of his own base- 
 ness, or he would certainly have written 
 to explain and to justify himself. 
 
 Such were the particulars which I 
 gleaned during my visit to my father's 
 family. To my mind, they tended rather 
 to deepen than to reveal the mystery. 
 That such a gentle, docile, affectionate 
 creature as Uncle George should have 
 injured the brother he loved, by word or
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 213 
 
 deed, at any period of their intercourse, 
 seemed incredible ; but that he should 
 have been guilty of an act of baseness at 
 the very time when my sister was dying, 
 was simply and plainly impossible. And 
 yet, there was the incomprehensible fact 
 staring me in the face, that the death of 
 Caroline and the disappearance of Uncle 
 George had taken place in the same week ! 
 Never did I feel more daunted and bewil- 
 dered by the family secret, than after I 
 had heard all the particulars in connection 
 with it that my father's relatives had to tell 
 me. 
 
 I may pass over the events of the next 
 few years of my life briefly enough. 
 
 My nautical pursuits filled up all my 
 time, and took me far away from my 
 country and my friends. But, whatever I 
 did, and wherever I went, the memory of
 
 214 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Uncle George, and the desire to penetrate 
 the mystery of his disappearance, haunted 
 me like familiar spirits. Often, in the lonely 
 watches of the night at sea, did I recall 
 the dark evening on the beach, the strange 
 man's hurried embrace, the startling sensa- 
 tion of feeling his tears on my cheeks, the 
 disappearance of him before I had breath 
 or self-possession enough to say a word. 
 Often did I think over the inexplicable 
 events that followed, when I had returned, 
 after my sister's funeral, to my father's 
 house ; and oftener still did I puzzle my 
 brains vainly, in the attempt to form some 
 plan for inducing my mother or my aunt 
 to disclose the secret which they had 
 hitherto kept from me so perseveringly. My 
 only chance of knowing what had really 
 happened to Uncle George, my only hope 
 of seeing him again, rested with those
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 215 
 
 two near and dear relatives. I despaired 
 of ever getting my mother to speak on 
 the forbidden subject after what had passed 
 between us ; but I felt more sanguine 
 about my prospects of ultimately inducing 
 my aunt to relax in her discretion. 
 My anticipations, however, in this direc- 
 tion were not destined to be fulfilled. On 
 my next visit to England I found my 
 aunt prostrated by a paralytic attack, 
 which deprived her of the power of speech. 
 She died soon afterwards in my arms, 
 leaving me her sole heir. I searched 
 anxiously among her papers for some 
 reference to the family mystery, but found 
 no clue to guide me. All my mother's 
 letters to her sister at the time of Caroline's 
 illness and death had been destroyed.
 
 216 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 More years passed ; my mother followed 
 my aunt to the grave ; and still I was as 
 far as ever from making any discoveries in 
 relation to Uncle George. Shortly after the 
 period of this last affliction, my health gave 
 way, and I departed, by my doctor's advice, 
 to try some baths in the south of France. 
 
 I travelled slowly to my destination, turn- 
 ing aside from the direct road, and stopping 
 wherever I pleased. One evening, when I 
 was not more than two or three days' journey
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 217 
 
 from the baths to which I was bound, I 
 was struck by the picturesque situation of 
 a little town placed on the brow of a hill 
 at some distance from the main road, and 
 resolved to have a nearer look at the place, 
 with a view to stopping there for the 
 night, if it pleased me. I found the prin- 
 cipal inn clean and quiet — ordered my bed 
 there — and after dinner strolled out to look 
 at the church. No thought of Uncle George 
 was in my mind when I entered the build- 
 ing; and yet, at that very moment, chance 
 was leading me to the discovery which, 
 for so many years past, I had vainly endea- 
 voured to make — the discovery which I had 
 given up as hopeless since the day of my 
 mother's death. 
 
 I found nothing worth notice in the 
 church, and was about to leave it again, 
 when I caught a glimpse of a pretty view
 
 218 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 through a side door, and stopped to admire 
 it. 
 
 The churchyard formed the foreground, 
 and below it the hill-side sloped away gently 
 into the plain, over which the sun was set- 
 ting in fiill glory. The cure of the church 
 was reading his breviary, walking up and 
 down a gravel-path that parted the rows 
 of graves. In the course of my wanderings 
 I had learnt to speak French as fluently 
 as most Englishmen ; and when the priest 
 came near me I said a few words in praise 
 of the view, and complimented him on the 
 neatness and prettiness of the churchyard. 
 He answered with great politeness, and we 
 got into conversation together immediately. 
 
 As we strolled along the gravel-walk, my 
 attention was attracted by one of the graves 
 standing apart from the rest. The cross 
 at the head of it differed remarkably, in
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 219 
 
 some points of appearance, from the crosses 
 on the other graves. While all the rest 
 had garlands hung on them, this one cross 
 was quite bare ; and, more extraordinary 
 still, no name was inscribed on it. 
 
 The priest, observing that I stopped to 
 look at the grave, shook his head and 
 sighed. 
 
 '^A countryman of yours is buried there," 
 he said. " I was present at his death. He 
 had borne the burden of a great sorrow 
 among us, in this town, for many weary 
 years, and his conduct had taught us to 
 respect and pity him with all our hearts.'' 
 
 ^•'How is it that his name is not inscribed 
 over his grave ? " I inquired. 
 
 '* It was suppressed by his own desire," 
 answered the priest, with some little hesi- 
 tation. "He confessed to me in his last 
 moments that he had lived here under an
 
 220 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 assumed name. I asked his real name, and 
 he told it to me, with the particulars of his 
 sad storj. He had reasons for desiring to 
 be forgotten after his death. Almost the 
 last words he spoke were, ' Let my name 
 die with me.' Almost the last request he 
 made was, that I would keep that name a 
 secret from all the world excepting only one 
 person." 
 
 " Some relative, I suppose ? '' said I. 
 
 " Yes — a nephew," said the priest. 
 
 The moment the last word was out of his 
 mouth, my heart gave a strange answering 
 bound. I suppose I must have changed 
 colour also, for the cure looked at me with 
 sudden attention and interest. 
 
 "A nephew," the priest went on, "whom 
 he had loved like his own child. He told me 
 that if this nephew ever traced him to his 
 burial-place, and asked about him, I was
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 221 
 
 free in that case to disclose all I knew. 
 ^I should like my little Charley to know 
 the truth/ he said. ^ In spite of the differ- 
 ence in our ages, Charley and I were play- 
 mates years ago.' " 
 
 My heart beat faster, and I felt a chok- 
 ing sensation at the throat, the moment I 
 heard the priest unconsciously mention my 
 Christian name in reporting the dying man's 
 last words. 
 
 As soon as I could steady my voice and 
 feel certain of my self-possession, I commu- 
 nicated my family name to the cure, and 
 asked him if that was not part of the secret 
 that he had been requested to preserve. 
 
 He started back several steps, and clasped 
 his hands amazedly. 
 
 "Can it be?" he said in low tones, 
 gazing at me earnestly, with something like 
 dread in his face.
 
 222 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 I gave him my passport, and looked 
 away towards the grave. The tears came 
 into my eyes as the recollections of past days 
 crowded back on me. Hardly knowing 
 what I did, I knelt down by the grave, 
 and smoothed the grass over it with my 
 hand. Uncle George, why not have told 
 your secret to your old playmate ? Why 
 leave him to find you here ? 
 
 The priest raised me gently, and begged 
 me to go with him into his own house. 
 On our way there, I mentioned persons and 
 places that I thought my uncle might have 
 spoken of, in order to satisfy my companion 
 that I was really the person I represented 
 myself to be. By the time we had entered 
 his little parlour, and had sat down alone 
 in it, we were almost like old friends 
 together. 
 
 I thought it best that I should begin
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 223 
 
 by telling all that I have related here on 
 the subject of Uncle George, and his dis- 
 appearance from home. My host listened 
 with a very sad face, and said, when I 
 had done: — 
 
 ^*I can understand your anxiety to 
 know what I am authcised to tell you 
 — but pardon me if I say first that there 
 are circumstances in your uncle's story which 
 it may pain you to hear — " he stopped 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Which it may pain me to hear, as a 
 nephew ? " I asked. 
 
 "No,'' said the priest, looking away from 
 me, — " as a son." 
 
 I grateftilly expressed my sense of the 
 delicacy and kindness which had prompted 
 my companion's warning, but I begged 
 him at the same time to keep me no 
 longer in suspense, and to tell me the stem
 
 224 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 truth, no matter how painfully it might affect 
 me as a listener. 
 
 " In telling me all you knew about 
 what you term the Family Secret/' said 
 the priest, ^^ you have mentioned as a strange 
 coincidence that your sister's death and your 
 uncle's disappearance took place at the 
 same time. Did you ever suspect what 
 cause it was that occasioned your sister's 
 death?" 
 
 "I only knew what my father told me, 
 and what all our friends believed — that 
 she died of a tumour in the neck, or, as I 
 sometimes heard it stated, from the effect 
 on her constitution of a tumour in the 
 neck." 
 
 ^^ She died under an operation for the 
 removal of that tumour," said the priest, 
 in low tones. ^* And the operator was 
 your Uncle George."
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 225 
 
 In those few words all the truth burst 
 upon me. 
 
 " Console yourself with the thought that 
 the long martyrdom of his life is over," 
 the priest went on. ^^ He rests : he is at 
 peace. He and his little darling understand 
 each other, and are happy now. That 
 thought bore him up to the last, on his 
 death-bed. He always spoke of your sister 
 as his ^ little darling.' He firmly believed 
 that she was waiting to forgive and console 
 him in the other world — and who shall 
 say he was deceived in that belief ? " 
 
 Not I ! Not anyone who has ever loved 
 and suffered, surely ! 
 
 *' It was out of the depths of his self- 
 sacrificing love for the child that he drew 
 the fatal courage to undertake the opera- 
 tion," continued the priest. " Your father 
 naturally shrank from attempting it. His 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 medical brethren, whom he consulted, all 
 doubted the propriety of taking any meas- 
 ures for the removal of the tumour, in 
 the particular condition and situation of 
 it when they were called in. Your uncle 
 alone differed with them. He was too modest 
 a man to say so, but your mother found 
 it out. The deformity of her beautiful 
 child horrified her ; she was desperate 
 enough to catch at the faintest hope of 
 remedying it that anyone might hold out 
 to her ; and she persuaded your uncle to 
 put his opinion to the proof. Her horror 
 at the deformity of the child, and her 
 despair at the prospect of its lasting for 
 life, seem to have utterly blinded her 
 to all natural sense of the danger of the 
 operation. It is hard to know how to say 
 it to you, her son, but it must be told, 
 nevertheless, that, one day, when your
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 227 
 
 father was out, she untruly informed your 
 uncle that his brother had consented to 
 the performance of the operation, and that 
 he had gone purposely out of the house 
 because he had not nerve enough to stay 
 and witness it. After that, your uncle no 
 longer hesitated. He had no fear of results, 
 provided he could be certain of his own 
 courage. All he dreaded was the effect 
 on him of his love for the child, when he 
 first found himself face to face with the 
 dreadful necessity of touching her skin with 
 the knife." 
 
 I tried hard to control myself; but I 
 could not repress a shudder at those words. 
 
 " It is useless to shock you by going into 
 particulars," said the priest, considerately. 
 ** Let it be enough if I say that your uncle's 
 fortitude failed to support him when he 
 wanted it most. His love for the child shook 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 the firm hand which had never trembled 
 before. In a word, the operation failed. 
 Your father returned, and found his child 
 dying. The frenzy of his despair, when the 
 truth was told him, carried him to excesses 
 which it shocks me to mention — excesses 
 which began in his degrading his brother by a 
 blow, which ended in his binding himself by 
 an oath to make that brother suffer public 
 punishment, for his fatal rashness, in a court 
 of law. Your uncle was too heart-broken by 
 what had happened to feel those outrages 
 as some men might have felt them. He 
 looked for one moment at his sister-in-law 
 (I do not like to say your mother, con- 
 sidering what I have now to tell you), to 
 see if she would acknowledge that she had 
 encouraged him to attempt the operation, 
 and that she had deceived him in saying 
 that he had his brother's permission to try
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 229 
 
 it. She was silent, and when she spoke, 
 it was to join her husband in denouncing 
 him as the murderer of their child. 
 Whether fear of your father's anger, or 
 revengeful indignation against your uncle 
 most actuated her, I cannot presume to 
 inquire in your presence. I can only state 
 facts." 
 
 The priest paused, and looked at me 
 anxiously. I could not speak to him at 
 that moment — I could only encourage him 
 to proceed by pressing his hand. 
 He resumed in these terms : — 
 "Meanwhile, your uncle turned to your 
 father, and spoke the last words he was 
 ever to address to his eldest brother in this 
 world. He said : — ^ I have deserved the 
 worst your anger can inflict on me, but I 
 will spare you the scandal of bringing me to 
 justice in open court. The law, if it
 
 230 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 found me guilty, could at the worst but 
 banish me from my country and my friends. 
 I will go of my own accord. God is my 
 witness that I honestly believed I could save 
 the child from deformity and suffering. I 
 have risked all, and lost all. My heart and 
 spirit are broken. I am fit for nothing, but 
 to go and hide myself and my shame and 
 misery from all eyes that have ever looked 
 on me. I shall never come back, never 
 expect your pity or forgiveness. If you 
 think less harshly of me when I am gone, 
 keep secret what has happened ; let no other 
 lips say of me what yours and your wife's have 
 said. I shall think that forbearance atone- 
 ment enough, atonement greater than I have 
 deserved. Forget me in this world. May 
 we meet in another, where the secrets of all 
 hearts are opened, and where the child who is 
 gone before may make peace between us ! '
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 231 
 
 He said those words and went out. Your 
 father never saw him or heard from him 
 again." 
 
 I knew the reason now why my father had 
 never confided the truth to anyone, his own 
 family included. My mother had evidently 
 confessed all to her sister, under the seal of 
 secrecy. And there the dreadful disclosure 
 had been arrested. 
 
 ^^ Your uncle told me," the priest con- 
 tinued, *^that before he left England, he took 
 leave of you by stealth, in a place you were 
 staying at by the seaside. He had not the 
 heart to quit his country and his friends for 
 ever, without kissing you for the last time. 
 He followed you in the dark, and caught 
 you up in his arms, and left you again 
 before you had a chance of discovering him. 
 The next day he quitted England." 
 
 " For this place ? " I asked.
 
 232 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 *^Yes: he had spent a week here once 
 with a student friend, at the time when 
 he was a pupil in the Hotel Dieu. And 
 to this place he returned to hide, to suffsr, 
 and to die. We all saw that he was a man 
 crushed and broken by some great sorrow, 
 and we respected him and his affliction. 
 He lived alone, and only came out of doors 
 towards evening, when he used to sit on the 
 brow of the hill yonder, with his head on 
 his hand, looking towards England. That 
 place seemed a favourite with him, and he 
 is buried close by it. He revealed the story 
 of his past life to no living soul here but 
 me ; and to me he only spoke when his last 
 hour was approaching. What he had suf- 
 fered during his long exile, no man can pre- 
 sume to say. I, who saw more of him than 
 anyone, never heard a word of complaint fall 
 from his lips. He had the courage of the
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 233 
 
 martyrs while he lived, and the resignation 
 of the saints when he died. Just at the last 
 his mind wandered. He said he saw his 
 little darling waiting by the bedside to lead 
 him away ; and he died with a smile on 
 his face — the first I had ever seen there." 
 The priest ceased, and we went out to- 
 gether in the mournful twilight, and stood 
 for a little while on the brow of the hill 
 where Uncle George used to sit, with his face 
 turned towards England. How my heart 
 ached for him, as I thought of what he must 
 have suffered in the silence and solitude of 
 his long exile ! Was it well for me that I 
 had discovered the Family Secret at last ? 
 I have sometimes thought not. I have 
 sometimes wished that the darkness had 
 never been cleared away which once hid 
 from me the fate of Uncle George.
 
 234 
 
 THE THIRD DAY. 
 
 Fine again. Our guest rode out, with 
 her ragged little groom, as usual. There 
 was no news yet in the paper — that 
 is to say, no news of George, or his 
 ship. 
 
 On this day, Morgan completed his 
 second story ; and, in two or three 
 days more, I expected to finish the last 
 of my own contributions. Owen was 
 still behindhand, and still despondent.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 235 
 
 The lot drawn to-night was Five. 
 This proved to be the number of the 
 first of Morgan's stories, which he had 
 completed before we began the read- 
 ings. His second story, finished this 
 day, being still uncorrected by me, could 
 not yet be added to the common 
 stock. 
 
 On being informed that it had come 
 to his turn to occupy the attention of 
 the company, Morgan startled us by 
 immediately objecting to the trouble of 
 reading his own composition ; and by 
 coolly handing it over to me, on the 
 ground that my numerous corrections had 
 made it, to all intents and purposes, my 
 story. 
 
 Owen and I both remonstrated ; and 
 Jessie, mischievously persisting in her 
 favourite jest at Morgan's expense, en-
 
 236 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 treated that he would read, if it was 
 only for her sake. Finding that we 
 were all determined, and all against him, 
 he declared that, rather than hear our 
 voices any longer, he would submit to 
 the minor inconvenience of listening to 
 his own. Accordingly, he took his man- 
 uscript back again, and, with an air of 
 surly resignation, spread it open before 
 him. 
 
 ^^ I don't think you will like this 
 story, Miss," he began, addressing Jessie. 
 ^' But I shall read it, nevertheless, with 
 the greatest pleasure. It begins in a Stable 
 — it gropes its way through a Dream — it 
 keeps company with an Ostler — and it 
 stops without an end. What do you think 
 
 of that? ^' 
 
 After favouring his audience with this 
 promising preface, Morgan indulged him-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 237 
 
 self in a chuckle of supreme satisfaction ; 
 and then began to read, without wasting 
 another preliminary word on any one of 
 us.
 
 2 38 
 
 BROTHER MORGAN'S STORY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE DREAM-WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I HAD not been settled much more than 
 six weeks in my country practice, when 
 1 was sent for to a neighbouring town, 
 to consult with the resident medical man 
 there, on a case of very dangerous ill- 
 ness. 
 
 My horse had come down with me, at 
 the end of a long ride the night before,
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 239 
 
 and had hurt himself, luckily, much more 
 than he had hurt his master. Being deprived 
 of the animal's services, I started for my des- 
 tination by the coach (there were no railways 
 at that time) ; and I hoped to get back 
 again, towards the afternoon, in the same 
 way. 
 
 After the consultation was over, I went 
 to the principal inn of the town to wait 
 for the coach. When it came up, it was 
 full inside and out. There was no re- 
 source left me, but to get home as 
 cheaply as I could, by hiring a gig. 
 The price asked for this accommodation 
 struck me as being so extortionate, that 
 I determined to look out for an inn of 
 inferior pretensions, and to try if I could 
 not make a better bargain with a less 
 prosperous establishment. 
 
 I soon found a hkely-looking house.
 
 240 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 dingy and quiet, with an old-fashioned 
 sign, that had evidently not been re- 
 painted for many years past. The land- 
 lord, in this case, was not above making 
 a small protit ; and as soon as we came 
 to terms, he rang the yard-bell to order 
 the gig. 
 
 ^* Has Robert not come back from that 
 errand ? " asked the landlord, appealing 
 to the waiter, who answered the bell. 
 
 " No, sir, he hasn't." 
 
 *^ Well, then, you must wake up 
 Isaac." 
 
 "Wake up Isaac?" I repeated; ''that 
 sounds rather odd. Do your ostlers go 
 to bed in the day-time ? " 
 
 " This one does," said the landlord, 
 smiling to himself in rather a strange 
 way. 
 
 " And dreams, too," added the waiter ;
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 241 
 
 '^ I shan't forget the turn it gave me, 
 the first time I heard him." 
 
 " Never you mind about that/' re- 
 torted the proprietor ; "you go and rouse 
 Isaac up. The gentleman's waiting for his 
 
 gig-" 
 
 The landlord's manner and the waiter's 
 manner expressed a great deal more than 
 they either of them said. I began to 
 suspect that I might be on the trace of 
 something professionally interesting to me, 
 as a medical man ; and I thought I 
 should like to look at the ostler, before 
 the waiter awakened him. 
 
 " Stop a minute," I interposed ; "I 
 have rather a fancy for seeing this man 
 before you wake him up. I'm a doctor ; 
 and if this queer sleeping and dreaming 
 of his comes from anything wrong in his 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 brain, I may be able to tell you what 
 to do with him.'' 
 
 " I rather think you will find his com- 
 plaint past all doctoring, sir," said the 
 landlord. ^^But if you would like to see 
 him, you're welcome, I'm sure." 
 
 He led the way across a yard and 
 down a passage to the stables ; opened one 
 of the doors ; and waiting outside himself, 
 told me to look in. 
 
 I found myself in a two-stall stable. In 
 one of the stalls, a horse was munching 
 his corn. In the other, an old man was 
 lying asleep on the litter. 
 
 I stooped and looked at him attentively. 
 It was a withered, woe-begone face. The 
 eyebrows were painfully contracted ; the 
 mouth was fast set, and drawn down at 
 the comers. The hollow wrinkled cheeks, 
 and the scanty grizzled hair, told their
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 243 
 
 own tale of some past sorrow or suffering. 
 He was drawing his breath convulsively 
 when I first looked at him ; and in a 
 moment more he began to talk in his 
 sleep. 
 
 *^ Wake up ! " I heard him say, in a 
 quick whisper, through his clenched teeth. 
 " Wake up there ! Murder ! " 
 
 He moved one lean arm slowly till it 
 rested over his throat, shuddered a little, 
 and turned on his straw. Then the arm 
 left his throat, the hand stretched itself 
 out, and clutched at the side towards 
 which he had turned, as if he fancied 
 himself to be grasping at the edge of 
 something. I saw his lips move, and 
 bent lower over him. He was still talking 
 in his sleep. 
 
 " Light grey eyes,^' he murmured, '^ and 
 a droop in the left eyelid — flaxen hair, 
 
 R 2
 
 244 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 with a gold-yellow streak in it — all right, 
 mother — fair white arms with a down on 
 them — little lady's hand with a reddish look 
 under the finger-nails. The knife — always 
 the cursed knife — first on one side, then 
 on the other. Aha! you she-devil, where's 
 the knife?" 
 
 At the last word his voice rose, and he 
 grew restless on a sudden. I saw him 
 shudder on the straw ; his withered face 
 became distorted, and he threw up both 
 his hands with a quick hysterical gasp. 
 They struck against the bottom of the 
 manger under which he lay, and the blow 
 awakened him. I had just time to slip 
 through the door and close it, before his eyes 
 were fairly open, and his senses his own again. 
 
 "Do you know anything about that 
 man's past life ? " I said to the land- 
 lord.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 245 
 
 '^ Yes, sir, I know pretty well all about 
 it," was the answer, ^^ and an uncommon 
 queer story it is. Most people don't be- 
 lieve it. It's true though, for all that. 
 Why, just look at him," continued the 
 landlord, opening the stable door again. 
 ^^ Poor devil! he's so worn out with his 
 restless nights, that he's dropped back 
 into his sleep already." 
 
 ''Don't wake him," I said, '' I'm in 
 no hurry for the gig. Wait till the 
 other man comes back from his errand. 
 And, in the mean time, suppose I have 
 some lunch, and a bottle of sherry ; and 
 suppose you come and help me to get 
 through it?" 
 
 The heart of mine host, as I had antici- 
 pated, warmed to me over his own wine. 
 He soon became communicative on the 
 subject of the man asleep in the
 
 246 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 stable ; and by little and little, I drew 
 the whole story out of him. Extravagant 
 and incredible as the events must appear 
 to everybody, they are related here just as 
 I heard them, and just as they happened.
 
 247 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Some years ago there lived in the suburbs 
 of a large sea-port town, on the west 
 coast of England, a man in humble circum- 
 stances, by name Isaac Scatchard. His 
 means of subsistence were derived from any 
 employment that he could get as an ostler, 
 and occasionally, when times went well with 
 him, from temporary engagements in ser- 
 vice as stable-helper in private houses. 
 Though a faithful, steady, and honest 
 man, he got on badly in his calling. 
 His ill-luck was proverbial among his 
 neighbours. He was always missing good 
 opportunities by no fault of his own ;
 
 248 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 and always living longest in service with 
 amiable people who were not punctual 
 payers of wages. ^* Unlucky Isaac" was 
 his nickname in his own neighbourhood — 
 and no one could say that he did not 
 richly deserve it. 
 
 With far more than one man's fair share 
 of adversity to endure, Isaac had but one 
 consolation to support him — and that was 
 of the dreariest and most negative kind. 
 He had no wife and children to increase 
 his anxieties and add to the bitterness of 
 his various failures in life. It might have 
 been fi'om mere insensibility, or it might 
 have been from generous unwillingness to 
 involve another in his own unlucky des- 
 tiny — but the fact undoubtedly was, that 
 he had arrived at the middle term of life 
 without marrying ; and, what is much more 
 remarkable, without once exposing himself,
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 249 
 
 from eighteen to eight-and-thirty, to the 
 genial imputation of ever having had a 
 sweetheart. 
 
 When he was out of service, he lived 
 alone with his widowed mother. Mrs. 
 Scatchard was a woman above the average 
 in her lowly station, as to capacity and 
 manners. She had seen better days, as 
 the phrase is ; but she never referred to 
 them in the presence of curious visitors ; 
 and, though perfectly polite to every one 
 who approached her, never cultivated any 
 intimacies among her neighbours. She con- 
 trived to provide, hardly enough, for her 
 simple wants, by doing rough work for the 
 tailors ; and always managed to keep a 
 decent home for her son to return to, when- 
 ever his ill-luck drove him out helpless into 
 the world. 
 
 One bleak Autumn, when Isaac was get-
 
 250 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 ting on fast towards forty, and when he 
 was, as usual, out of place, through no 
 fault of his own, he set forth from his 
 mother's cottage on a long walk inland 
 to a gentleman's seat, where he had heard 
 that a stable-helper was required. 
 
 It wanted then but two days of his 
 birthday ; and Mrs. Scatchard, with her 
 usual fondness, made him promise, before 
 he started, that he would be back in 
 time to keep that anniversary with her' 
 in as festive a way as their poor means 
 would allow. It was easy for him to 
 comply with this request, even supposing 
 he slept a night each way on the road. 
 
 He was to start from home on Monday 
 morning ; and, whether he got the new 
 place or not, he was to be back for his 
 birthday dinner on Wednesday at two 
 o'clock.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 251 
 
 Arriving at his destination too late on the 
 Monday night to make application for the 
 stable-helper's place, he slept at the vil- 
 lage inn, and, in good time on the Tues- 
 day morning, presented himself at the 
 gentleman's house, to fill the vacant situa- 
 tion. Here again, his ill-luck pursued him 
 as inexorably as ever. The excellent written 
 testimonials to his character, which he was 
 able to produce, availed him nothing; his 
 long walk had been taken in vain — only 
 the day before, the stable-helper's place 
 had been given to another man. 
 
 Isaac accepted this new disappointment 
 resignedly, and as a matter of course. Na- 
 turally slow in capacity, he had the blunt- 
 ness of sensibility' and phlegmatic patience 
 of disposition which frequently distinguish 
 men with sluggishly-working mental powers. 
 He thanked the gentleman's steward with
 
 252 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 his usual quiet civility, for granting him an 
 interview, and took his departure with no 
 appearance of unusual depression in his face 
 or manner. 
 
 Before starting on his homeward walk, 
 he made some inquiries at the inn, and 
 ascertained that he might save a few miles, 
 on his return, by following a new road. 
 Furnished with full instructions, several 
 times repeated, as to the various turnings 
 he was to take, he set forth on his home- 
 ward journey, and walked on all day with 
 only one stoppage for bread and cheese. 
 Just as it was getting towards dark, the 
 rain came on and the wind began to rise ; 
 and he found himself, to make matters 
 worse, in a part of the country with which 
 he was entirely unacquainted, though he 
 knew himself to be some fifteen miles from 
 home. The first house he found to inquire
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 253 
 
 at, was a lonely road-side inn, standing on 
 the outskirts of a thick wood. Solitary as 
 the place looked, it was welcome to a lost 
 man who was also hungry, thirsty, footsore, 
 and wet. The landlord was civil and 
 respectable-looking ; and the price he asked 
 for a bed was reasonable enough. Isaac, 
 therefore, decided on stopping comfortably 
 at the inn for that night. 
 
 He was constitutionally a temperate man. 
 His supper simply consisted of two rashers 
 of bacon, a slice of home-made bread, and 
 a pint of ale. He did not go to bed imme- 
 diately after this moderate meal, but sat up 
 with the landlord, talking about his bad 
 prospects and his long run of ill-luck, and 
 diverging from these topics to the subjects 
 of horse-flesh and racing. Nothing was 
 said either by himself, his host, or the few 
 labourers who strayed into the tap-room,
 
 254 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 which could, in the slightest degree, excite 
 the very small and very dull imaginative 
 faculty which Isaac Scatchard possessed. 
 
 At a little after eleven the house was 
 closed. Isaac went round with the land- 
 lord, and held the candle while the doors 
 and lower-windows were being secured. He 
 noticed with surprise the strength of the 
 bolts, bars, and iron-sheathed shutters. 
 
 "You see, we are rather lonely here," 
 said the landlord. "We never have had 
 any attempts made to break in yet, but 
 it's always as well to be on the safe side. 
 When nobody is sleeping here, I am the 
 only man in the house. My wife and 
 daughter are timid, and the servant-girl 
 takes after her missuses. Another glass 
 of ale, before you turn in? — No! — Well, 
 how such a sober man as you comes 
 to be out of place, is more than I can
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 255 
 
 make out, for one. — Here's where you're 
 to sleep. You're our only lodger to- 
 night, and I think you'll say my mis- 
 sus has done her best to make you com- 
 fortable. You're quite sure you won't have 
 another glass of ale? — Very well. Good 
 night." 
 
 It was half-past eleven by the clock 
 in the passage as they went up stairs to 
 the bed-room, the window of which looked 
 on to the wood at the back of the house. 
 
 Isaac locked the door, set his candle on 
 the chest of drawers, and wearily got 
 ready for bed. The bleak autumn wind 
 was still blowing, and the solemn, mono- 
 tonous surging moan of it in the wood 
 was dreary and awful to hear through 
 the night-silence. Isaac felt strangely wake- 
 ful. He resolved, as he lay down in bed, 
 to keep the candle a-light until he began
 
 256 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 to grow sleepy ; for there was something 
 unendurably depressing in the bare idea of 
 lying awake in the darkness, listening to 
 the dismal, ceaseless moaning of the wind 
 in the wood. 
 
 Sleep stole on him before he was aware 
 of it. His eyes closed, and he fell off in- 
 sensibly to rest, without having so much 
 as thought of extinguishing the candle. 
 
 The first sensation of which he was con- 
 scious, after sinking into slumber, was a 
 strange shivering that ran through him sud- 
 denly from head to foot, and a dreadful 
 sinking pain at the heart, such as he had 
 never felt before. The shivering only dis- 
 turbed his slumbers — the pain woke him 
 instantly. In one moment he passed from 
 a state of sleep to a state of wakefulness — 
 his eyes wide open — his mental perceptions 
 cleared on a sudden as if by a miracle.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 257 
 
 The candle had burnt down nearly to 
 the last morsel of tallow ; but the top of 
 the unsnuffed wick had just fallen off, and 
 the light in the little room was, for the 
 moment, fair and full. 
 
 Between the foot of his bed and the closed 
 door there stood a woman with a knife in 
 her hand, looking at him. 
 
 He was stricken speechless with terror, 
 but he did not lose the preternatural 
 clearness of his faculties ; and he never took 
 his eyes off the woman. She said not a 
 word as they stared each other in the face; 
 but she began to move slowly towards the 
 left-hand side of the bed. 
 
 His eyes followed her. She was a fair 
 fine woman, with yellowish flaxen hair, 
 and light grey eyes, with a droop in the 
 left eye-lid. He noticed those things and 
 fixed them on his mind, before she was 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 round at the side of the bed. Speechless, 
 with no expression in her face, with no noise 
 following her footfall, she came closer and 
 closer — stopped — and slowly raised the knife. 
 He laid his right arm over his throat to 
 save it ; but, as he saw the knife coming 
 down, threw his hand across the bed to 
 the right side, and jerked his body over 
 that way, just as the knife descended on 
 the mattress within an inch of his shoulder. 
 
 His eyes fixed on her arm and hand, as 
 she slowly drew her knife out of the bed. 
 A white, well-shaped arm, with a pretty 
 down lying lightly over the fair skin. A 
 delicate, lady's hand, with the crowning 
 beauty of a pink flush under and round 
 the finger-nails. 
 
 She drew the knife out, and passed back 
 again slowly to the foot of the bed ; stop- 
 ped there for a moment looking at him ;
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 259 
 
 then came on — still speechless, still with no 
 expression on the blank, beautiful face, still 
 with no sound following the stealthy footfalls 
 — came on to the right side of the bed 
 where he now lay. 
 
 As she approached, she raised the knife 
 again, and he drew himself away to the 
 left side. She struck, as before, right into 
 the mattress, with a deliberate, perpendicu- 
 larly-downward action of the arm. This 
 time his eyes wandered from her to the 
 knife. It was like the large clasp-knives 
 which he had often seen labouring men use 
 to cut their bread and bacon with. Her 
 delicate little fingers did not conceal more 
 than two-thirds of the handle ; he noticed 
 that it was made of buckhorn, clean and 
 shining as the blade was, and looking like 
 new. 
 
 For the second time she drew the knife
 
 260 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 out, concealed it in the wide sleeve of her 
 gown, then stopped by the bedside, watch- 
 ing him. For an instant he saw her stand- 
 ing in that position — then the wick of the 
 spent candle fell over into the socket. The 
 flame diminished to a little blue point, and 
 the room grew dark. 
 
 A moment, or less, if possible, passed so 
 — and then the wick flamed up, smokily, 
 for the last time. His eyes were still 
 looking eagerly over the right-hand side of 
 the bed when the final flash of light came, 
 but they discerned nothing. The fair woman 
 with the knife was gone. 
 
 The conviction that he was alone again, 
 weakened the hold of the terror that had 
 struck him dumb up to this time. The 
 preternatural sharpness which the very in- 
 tensity of his panic had mysteriously im- 
 parted to his faculties, left them suddenly.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 261 
 
 His brain grew confused — bis beart beat 
 wildly — bis ears opened for tbe first time 
 since tbe appearance of tbe woman, to a 
 sense of tbe woful, ceaseless moaning of 
 tbe wind among tbe trees. Witb tbe dread- 
 ful conviction of tbe reality of wbat be 
 had seen still strong witbin bim, be leapt 
 out of bed, and screaming — "Murder ! — 
 Wake up tbere, wake up ! " — dasbed bead- 
 long tbrougb tbe darkness to tbe door. 
 
 It was fast locked, exactly as be bad 
 left it on going to bed. 
 
 His cries, on starting up, bad alarmed 
 tbe bouse. He beard tbe terrified, con- 
 fused exclamations of women ; be saw 
 the master of tbe bouse approaching along 
 the passage, with bis burning rush-candle 
 in one hand and his gun in tbe other. 
 
 "What is it?" asked the landlord, 
 breathlessly.
 
 262 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Isaac could only answer in a whisper. 
 " A woman, with a knife in her hand," 
 he gasped out. "In my room — a fair, 
 yellow -haired woman ; she jobbed at me 
 with the knife, twice over." 
 
 The landlord's pale cheeks grew paler. 
 He looked at Isaac eagerly by the flicker- 
 ing light of his candle ; and his face 
 began to get red again — ^his voice altered, 
 too, as well as his complexion. 
 
 "She seems to have missed you twice," 
 he said. 
 
 " I dodged the knife as it came down," 
 Isaac went on, in the same scared whisper. 
 " It struck the bed each time." 
 
 The landlord took his candle into the 
 bedroom immediately. In less than a 
 minute he came out again into the passage 
 in a violent passion. 
 
 "The devil fly away with you and
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 263 
 
 your woman with the knife ! There isn't 
 a mark in the bed-clothes anywhere. 
 What do you mean by coming into a 
 mans place and frightening his family 
 out of their wits about a dream ? '' 
 
 "I'll leave your house," said Isaac, 
 faintly. " Better out on the road, in rain 
 and dark, on my road home, than back 
 again in that room, after what I've seen 
 in it. Lend me a light to get my clothes 
 by, and tell me what I'm to pay." 
 
 " Pay ! " cried the landlord, leading the 
 way with his light sulkily into the bed- 
 room. " You'll find your score on the 
 shte when you go down stairs. I wouldn't 
 have taken you in for all the money you've 
 got about you, if I'd known your dreaming, 
 screeching ways beforehand. Look at the 
 bed. Where's the cut of a knife in it? 
 Lool at the window — is the lock bursted ?
 
 264 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Look at the door (which I heard you 
 fasten yourself) — is it broke in? A 
 murdering woman with a knife in my 
 house ! You ought to be ashamed of 
 yourself ! '' 
 
 Isaac answered not a word. He huddled 
 on his clothes ; and then they went down 
 stairs together. 
 
 " ]^igh on twenty minutes past two ! " 
 said the landlord, as they passed the clock. 
 ^' A nice time in the morning to frighten 
 honest people out of their wits ! " 
 
 Isaac paid his bill, and the landlord let 
 him out at the front door, asking, with a 
 grin of contempt, as he undid the strong 
 fastenings, whether ^^ the murdering won^an 
 got in that way ? " 
 
 They parted without a word on el'her 
 side. The rain had ceased; but the right 
 was dark, and the wind bleaker than ever.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. "26 5 
 
 Little did the darkness, or the cold, or the 
 uncertainty about the way home, matter to 
 Isaac. If he had been turned out into a 
 wilderness in a thunderstorm, it would have 
 been a relief, after what he had suffered in 
 the bedroom of the inn. 
 
 What was the fair woman with the 
 knife? The creature of a dream, or 
 that other creature from the unkijown 
 world called among men by the name of 
 ghost? He could make nothing of the 
 mystery — had made nothing of it, even 
 when it was mid-day on Wednesday, and 
 when he stood, at last, after many times 
 missing his road, once more on the door- 
 step of home.
 
 266 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 His mother came out eagerly to receive 
 him. His face told her in a moment 
 that something was wrong. 
 
 "Fve lost the place; but that's my 
 luck. I dreamed an ill dream last night, 
 mother — or, maybe, I saw a ghost. Take 
 it either way, it scared me out of my 
 senses, and I'm not my own man again 
 yet." 
 
 " Isaac ! your face frightens me. Come in 
 to the fire. Come in, and tell mother 
 all about it." '
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 267 
 
 He was as anxious to tell as she was 
 to hear ; for it had been his hope, all 
 the way home, that his mother, with her 
 quicker capacity and superior knowledge, 
 might be able to throw some light on 
 the mystery which he could not clear 
 up for himself. His memory of the 
 dream was still mechanically vivid, though 
 his thoughts were entirely confused by 
 it. 
 
 His mother's face grew paler and 
 paler as he went on. She never inter- 
 rupted him by so much as a single word ; 
 but when he had done, she moved her 
 chair close to his, put her arm round 
 his neck, and said to him : — 
 
 "Isaac, you dreamed your ill dream on 
 this Wednesday morning. What time was 
 it when you saw the fair woman with the 
 knife in her hand ? '*
 
 268 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Isaac reflected on what the landlord 
 had said when they had passed by the 
 clock on his leaving the inn — allowed as 
 nearly as he could for the time that must 
 have elapsed between the unlocking of his 
 bedroom door and the paying of his bill 
 just before going away, and answered: — 
 
 " Somewhere about two o'clock in the 
 
 morning/' 
 
 His mother suddenly quitted her hold of 
 his neck, and struck her hands together 
 with a gesture of despair. 
 
 " This Wednesday is your birthday, Isaac ; 
 and two o'clock in the morning was the 
 time when you were born ! " 
 
 Isaac's capacities were not quick enough 
 to catch the infection of his mother's 
 superstitious dread. He was amazed, and 
 a little startled also, when she suddenly 
 rose from her chair, opened her old
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 269 
 
 writing-desk, took pen, ink, and paper, and 
 then said to him ; — 
 
 '^ Your memory is but a poor one, Isaac, 
 and now Fm an old woman, mine's not 
 much better. I want all about this dream 
 of yours to be as well known to both of 
 us, years hence, as it is now. Tell me 
 over again all you told me a minute ago, 
 when you spoke of what the woman 
 with the knife looked like." 
 
 Isaac obeyed, and marvelled much as 
 he saw his mother carefully set down on 
 paper the very words that he was saying. 
 
 '^ Light grey eyes," she wrote as they 
 came to the descriptive part, '' with a 
 droop in the left eyelid. Flaxen hair, 
 with a gold-yellow streak in it. White 
 arms, with a down upon them. Little 
 lady's hand, with a reddish look about 
 the finger-nails. Clasp-knife with a buck-
 
 270 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 horn handle, that seemed as good as new." 
 To these particulars, Mrs. Scatchard added 
 the year, month, day of the week, and 
 time in the morning, when the woman 
 of the dream appeared to her son. She 
 then locked up the paper carefully in her 
 writing-desk. 
 
 Neither on that day, nor on any 
 day after, could her son induce her to 
 return to the matter of the dream. She 
 obstinately kept her thoughts about it to 
 herself, and even refused to refer again 
 to the paper in her writing-desk. Ere 
 long, Isaac grew weary of attempting to 
 make her break her resolute silence ; and 
 time, which sooner or later wears out all 
 things, gradually wore out the impression 
 produced on him by the dream. He began 
 by thinking of it carelessly, and he ended 
 by not thinking of it at all.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 27 L 
 
 This result was the more easily brought 
 about by the advent of some important 
 changes for the better in his prospects, 
 which commenced not long after his terri- 
 ble night^s experience at the inn. He 
 reaped at last the reward of his long and 
 patient suffering under adversity, by getting 
 an excellent place, keeping it for seven 
 years, and leaving it, on the death of 
 his master, not only with an excellent 
 character, but also with a comfortable 
 annuity bequeathed to him as a reward 
 for saving his mistress's life in a carriage 
 accident. Thus it happened that Isaac 
 Scatchard returned to his old mother, 
 seven years after the time of the dream 
 at the inn, with an annual sum of money 
 at his disposal, sufficient to keep them 
 both in ease and independence for the 
 rest of their lives.
 
 272 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 The mother, whose health had been bad 
 of late years, profited so much by the 
 care bestowed on her and by freedom 
 from money anxieties, that when Isaac^s 
 birthday came round, she was able to 
 sit up comfortably at table and dine 
 with him. 
 
 On that day, as the evening drew on, 
 Mrs. Scatchard discovered that a bottle 
 of tonic medicine — which she was accus- 
 tomed to take, and in which she had 
 fancied that a dose or more was still 
 left — happened to be empty. Isaac imme- 
 diately volunteered to go to the chemist's, 
 and get it filled again. It was as rainy 
 and bleak an autumn night as on the 
 memorable past occasion when he lost his 
 way and slept at the roadside inn. 
 
 On going into the chemist's shop, he 
 was passed hurriedly by a poorly-dressed
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 273 
 
 woman coming out of it. The glimpse he 
 had of her face struck him, and he looked 
 back after her as she descended the door- 
 steps. 
 
 " You're noticing that woman ? '^ said the 
 chemist's apprentice behind the counter. 
 "It's my opinion there's something wrong 
 with her. She's been asking for laudanum 
 to put to a bad tooth. Master's out for 
 half an hour; and I told her I wasn't 
 allowed to sell poison to strangers in his 
 absence. She laughed in a queer way, and 
 said she would come back in half an hour. 
 If she expects master to serve her, I 
 think she'll be disappointed. It's a case 
 of suicide, sir, if ever there was one 
 yet." 
 
 These words added immeasurably to the 
 sudden interest in the woman which Isaac 
 had felt at the first sight of her face. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 After he had got the medicine bottle filled, 
 he looked about anxiously for her, as soon 
 as he was out in the street. She was 
 walking slowly up and down on the 
 opposite side of the road. With his 
 heart, very much to his own surprise, 
 beating fast, Isaac crossed over and spoke 
 to her. 
 
 He asked if she was in any distress. 
 She pointed to her torn shawl, her scanty 
 dress, her crushed, dirty bonnet — then 
 moved under a lamp so as to let the 
 light fall on her stern, pale, but still most 
 beautiful face. 
 
 "I look like a comfortable, happy 
 woman — don't I ? " she said with a bitter 
 laugh. 
 
 She spoke with a purity of intonation 
 which Isaac had never heard before from 
 other than ladies' lips. Her slightest
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 275 
 
 actions seemed to have the easy negligent 
 grace of a thorough-bred woman. Her 
 skin, for all its poverty-stricken paleness, 
 was as delicate as if her life had been 
 passed in the enjoyment of every social 
 comfort that wealth can purchase. Even 
 her small, finely-shaped hands, gloveless 
 as they were, had not lost their white- 
 ness. 
 
 Little by little, in answer to his 
 questions, the sad story of the woman 
 came out. There is no need to relate 
 it here ; it is told over and over again 
 in Police reports and paragraphs about 
 Attempted Suicides. 
 
 "My name is Rebecca Murdoch," said 
 the woman, as she ended. "I have 
 ninepence left, and I thought of spending it 
 at the chemist's over the way in securing 
 a passage to the other world. Whatever 
 
 t2
 
 276 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 it is, it can't be worse to me than this 
 — so why should I stop here ? " 
 
 Besides the natural compassion and sadness 
 moved in his heart by what he heard, Isaac 
 felt within him some mysterious influence at 
 work all the time the woman was speak- 
 ing, which utterly confused his ideas and 
 almost deprived him of his powers of speech. 
 All that he could say in answer to her last 
 reckless words was, that he would prevent her 
 from attempting her own life, if he fol- 
 lowed her about all night to do it. His 
 rough, trembling earnestness seemed to 
 impress her. 
 
 " I won't occasion you that trouble," 
 she answered, when he repeated his threat. 
 *^You have given me a fancy for living 
 by speaking kindly to me. No need for 
 the mockery of protestations and promises. 
 You may believe me without them. Come
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 277 
 
 to Fuller's Meadow to-raorrow at twelve, 
 and you will find me alive, to answer for 
 myself — No ! — no money. My ninepence will 
 do to get me as good a night's lodging 
 as I want." 
 
 She nodded and left him. He made no 
 attempt to follow — he felt no suspicion 
 that she was deceiving him. 
 
 " It's strange, but I can't help believing 
 her," he said to himself — and walked away 
 bewildered, towards home. 
 
 On entering the house his mind was still 
 so completely absorbed by its new subject 
 of interest, that he took no notice of what 
 his mother was doing when he came in 
 with the bottle of medicine. She had opened 
 her old writing-desk in his absence, and 
 was now reading a paper attentively that lay 
 inside it. On every birthday of Isaac's since 
 she had written down the particulars of his
 
 278 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 dream from his own lips, she had been ac- 
 customed to read that same paper, and 
 ponder over it in private. 
 
 The next day he went to Fuller's Meadow. 
 
 He had done only right in believing her 
 so implicitly — she was there, punctual to a 
 minute, to answer for herself The last- 
 left faint defences in Isaac's heart, against 
 the fascination which a word or look from 
 her began inscrutably to exercise over him, 
 sank down and vanished before her for 
 ever on that memorable morning. 
 
 When a man previously insensible to the 
 influence of women, forms an attachment in 
 middle life, the instances are rare indeed, 
 let the warning circumstances be what they 
 may, in which he is found capable of freeing 
 himself from the tyranny of the new ruling 
 passion. The charm of being spoken to 
 familiarly, fondly, and gratefully by a woman
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 279 
 
 whose language and manners still retained 
 enough of their early refinement to hint at 
 the high social station that she had lost, 
 would have been a dangerous luxury to a 
 man of Isaac's rank at the age of twenty. 
 But it was far more than that — it was 
 certain ruin to him — now that his heart 
 was opening unworthily to a new influence 
 at that middle time of life when strong 
 feelings of all kinds, once implanted, strike 
 root most stubbornly in a man's moral 
 nature. A few more stolen interviews 
 after that first morning in Fuller's Mea> 
 dow completed his infatuation. In less 
 than a month from the time when he 
 first met her, Isaac Scatchard had con- 
 sented to give Eebecca Murdoch a new 
 interest in existence, and a chance of re- 
 covering the character she had lost, by 
 promising to make her his wife.
 
 280 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 She had taken possession not of his 
 passions only, but of his faculties as well. 
 All the mind he had he put into her 
 keeping. She directed him on every point; 
 even instructing him how to break the 
 news of his approaching marriage in the 
 safest manner to his mother. 
 
 " If you tell her how you met me and 
 who I am at first," said the cunning wo- 
 man, '' she will move heaven and earth 
 to prevent our marriage. Say I am the 
 sister of one of your fellow-servants — ask 
 her to see me before you go into any 
 more particulars — and leave it to me to 
 do the rest. I mean to make her love me 
 next best to you Isaac, before she knows 
 anything of who I really am.'' 
 
 The motive of the deceit was sufficient 
 to sanctify it to Isaac. The stratagem pro- 
 posed relieved him of his one great
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 281 
 
 anxiety, and quieted his uneasy conscience 
 on the subject of his mother. Still, there 
 was something wanting to perfect his hap- 
 piness, something that he could not realise, 
 something mysteriously untraceable, and yet 
 something that perpetually made itself felt ; 
 not when he was absent from Eebecca 
 Murdoch, but, strange to say, when he 
 was actually in her presence ! She was 
 kindness itself with him ; she never made 
 him feel his inferior capacities, and inferior 
 manners — she showed the sweetest anx- 
 iety to please him in the smallest trifles; 
 but, in spite of all these attractions, he 
 never could feel quite at his ease with 
 her. At their first meeting, there had 
 mingled with his admiration when he looked 
 in her face, a faint involuntary feeling of 
 doubt whether that face was entirely 
 strange to him. No after-familiarity had
 
 282 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 the slightest effect on this inexplicable, 
 wearisome uncertainty. 
 
 Concealing the truth as he had been 
 directed, he announced his marriage en- 
 gagement precipitately and confusedly to 
 his mother, on the day when he contracted 
 it. Poor Mrs. Scatchard showed her per- 
 fect confidence in her son by flinging her 
 arms round his neck, and giving him joy 
 of having found at last, in the sister of 
 one of his fellow-servants, a woman to com- 
 fort and care for him after his mother 
 was gone. She was all eagerness to see 
 the woman of her son's choice; and the 
 next day was fixed for the introduc- 
 tion. 
 
 It was a bright sunny morning, and 
 the little cottage parlour was full of light, 
 as Mrs. Scatchard, happy and expectant, 
 dressed for the occasion in her Sunday
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 283 
 
 gown, sat waiting for her son and her 
 future daughter-in-law. 
 
 Punctual to the appointed time, Isaac 
 hurriedly and nervously led his promised 
 wife into the room. His mother rose to 
 receive her — advanced a few steps, smil- 
 ing — looked Rebecca full in the eyes — and 
 suddenly stopped. Her face, which had 
 been flushed the moment before, turned 
 white in an instant — her eyes lost their ex- 
 pression of softness and kindness, and as- 
 sumed a blank look of terror — her out- 
 stretched hands fell to her sides, and she 
 staggered back a few steps with a low cry 
 to her son. 
 
 " Isaac ! " she whispered, clutching him 
 fast by the arm, when he asked alarmedly 
 if she was taken ill. ^* Isaac! does that 
 woman's face remind you of nothing ? " 
 
 Before he could answer, before he could
 
 284 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 look round to where Rebecca stood, aston- 
 ished and angered by her reception, at the 
 lower end of the room, his mother pointed 
 impatiently to her writing-desk, and gave 
 him the key. 
 
 ^' Open it," she said, in a quick, breath- 
 less whisper. 
 
 *^What does this mean? Why am I 
 treated as if I had no business here ? Does 
 your mother want to insult me ? " asked 
 Rebecca, angrily. 
 
 " Open it, and give me the paper in the 
 left-hand drawer. Quick ! quick, for Heaven's 
 sake ! " said Mrs. Scatchard, shrinking fur- 
 ther back in terror. 
 
 Isaac gave her the paper. She looked it 
 over eagerly for a moment — then followed 
 Rebecca, who was now turning away haugh- 
 tily to leave the room, and caught her by 
 the shoulder — abruptly raised the long, loose
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 285 
 
 sleeve of her gown — and glanced at her 
 hand and arm. Something like fear began 
 to steal over the angry expression of Rebec- 
 ca's face as she shook herself free from the 
 old woman's grasp. ^^ Mad ! " she said to 
 herself; ^^and Isaac never told me." With 
 these few words she left the room. 
 
 Isaac was hastening after her, when his 
 mother turned and stopped his further pro- 
 gress. It wrung his heart to see the mis- 
 ery and terror in her face as she looked 
 at him. 
 
 "Light grey eyes," she said, in low, 
 mournful, awe-struck tones, pointing towards 
 the open door. *^A droop in the left eye- 
 lid. Flaxen hair with a gold-yellow streak 
 in it. White arms with a down on them. 
 Little, lady's hand, with a reddish look un- 
 der the finger-nails. The Dream-Woman! — 
 Isaac, the Dream-Woman ! "
 
 286 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 That faint cleaving doubt which he had 
 never been able to shake off in Rebecca 
 Murdoch's presence, was fatally set at rest 
 for ever. He had seen her face, then, be- 
 fore — seven years before, on his birthday, 
 in the bedroom of the lonely inn. 
 
 " Be warned ! Oh, my son, be warned ! 
 Isaac ! Isaac ! let her go, and do you stop 
 with me ! " 
 
 Something darkened the parlour window 
 as those words were said. A sudden chill 
 ran through him ; and he glanced side- 
 long at the shadow. Rebecca Murdoch 
 had come back. She was peering in curi- 
 ously at them over the low window 
 blind. 
 
 "I have promised to marry, mother," 
 he said, "and marry I must." 
 
 The tears came into his eyes as he 
 spoke, and dimmed his sight ; but he could
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 287 
 
 just discern the fatal face outside moving 
 away again from the window. 
 
 His mother's head sank lower. 
 
 ''Are you faint?" he whispered. 
 
 " Broken-hearted, Isaac." 
 
 He stooped down and kissed her. The 
 shadow, as he did so, returned to the 
 window ; and the fatal face peered in cu- 
 riously once more.
 
 288 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Three weeks after that day, Isaac and 
 Eebecca were man and wife. All that 
 was hopelessly dogged and stubborn in 
 the man's moral nature seemed to have 
 closed round his fatal passion, and to have 
 fixed it unassailably in his heart. 
 
 After that first interview in the cottage 
 parlour, no consideration would induce Mrs. 
 Scatchard to see her son's wife again, or 
 even to talk of her when Isaac tried hard 
 to plead her cause after their marriage. 
 
 This course of conduct was not in any
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 289 
 
 degree occasioned by a discovery of the 
 degradation in which Eebecca had lived. 
 There was no question of that between 
 mother and son. There was no question 
 of anything but the fearfully exact re- 
 semblance between the living, breathing 
 woman, and the spectre-woman of Isaac's 
 dream. 
 
 Eebecca, on her side, neither felt nor 
 expressed the slightest sorrow at the es- 
 trangement between herself and her mother- 
 in-law. Isaac, for the sake of peace, had 
 never contradicted her first idea that age 
 and long illness had affected Mrs. Scat- 
 chard's mind. He even allowed his wife 
 to upbraid him for not having confessed 
 this to her at the time of their marriage 
 engagement, rather than risk anything by 
 hinting at the truth. The sacrifice of his in- 
 tegrity before his one all-mastering delu- 
 
 VOL I. u
 
 290 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 sion, seemed but a small thing, and cost 
 his conscience but little, after the sacrifices 
 he had already made. 
 
 The time of waking from his delusion 
 — the cruel and the rueful time — was not 
 far off. After some quiet months of mar- 
 ried life, as the summer was ending, and 
 the year was getting on towards the 
 month of his birth- day, Isaac found his 
 wife altering towards him. She grew 
 sullen and contemptuous — she formed ac- 
 quaintances of the most dangerous kind, 
 in defiance of his objections, his entrea- 
 ties, and his commands — and, worst of 
 all, she learnt, ere long, after every fresh 
 difference with her husband, to seek the 
 deadly self-oblivion of drink. Little by 
 little, after the first miserable discovery 
 that his wife was keeping company with 
 drunkards, the shocking certainty forced
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 291 
 
 itself on Isaac that she had grown to be 
 a drunkard herself. 
 
 He had been in a sadly desponding 
 state for some time before the occurrence 
 of these domestic calamities. His mother's 
 health, as he could but too plainly discern 
 every time he went to see her at the 
 cottage, was failing fast; and he upbraided 
 himself in secret as the cause of the 
 bodily and mental suffering she endured. 
 When, to his remorse on his mother's 
 account, was added the shame and misery 
 occasioned by the discovery of his wife's 
 degradation, he sank under the double trial 
 — his face began to alter fast, and he 
 looked, what he was, a spirit-broken man. 
 
 His mother, still struggling bravely 
 against the illness that was hurrying her 
 to the grave, was the first to notice the 
 sad alteration in him, and the first to hear 
 
 u2
 
 292 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 of his last, worst trouble with his wife. 
 She could only weep bitterly, on the day 
 when he made his humiliating confession ; 
 but on the next occasion when he went to 
 see her, she had taken a resolution, in 
 reference to his domestic afflictions, which 
 astonished, and even alarmed him. He 
 found her dressed to go out, and on ask- 
 ing the reason, received this answer : — 
 
 ^^I am not long for this world, Isaac," 
 she said ; '^ and I shall not feel easy on 
 my death-bed, unless I have done my 
 best to the last to make my son happy. 
 I mean to put my own fears and my 
 own feelings out of the question, and to 
 go with you to your wife, and try what 
 I can do to reclaim her. Give me your 
 arm, Isaac ; and let me do the last 
 thing I can in this world to help my 
 son before it is too late."
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 293 
 
 He could not disobey her : and they walked 
 together slowly towards his miserable home. 
 
 It was only one o'clock in the after- 
 noon when they reached the cottage where 
 he lived. It was their dinner hour, and 
 Eebecca was in the kitchen. He was 
 thus able to take his mother quietly into 
 the parlour, and then prepare his wife for 
 the interview. She had fortunately drank 
 but little at that early hour, and she 
 was less sullen and capricious than 
 'usual. 
 
 He returned to his mother, with his 
 mind tolerably at ease. His wife soon 
 followed him into the parlour, and the 
 meeting between her and Mrs. Scatchard 
 passed off better than he had ventured 
 to anticipate : though he observed with 
 secret apprehension that his mother, reso- 
 lutely as she controlled herself in other
 
 294 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 respects, could not look his wife in the 
 face when she spoke to her. It was a 
 relief to him, therefore, when Rebecca 
 
 began to lay the cloth. 
 
 She laid the cloth — brought in the 
 bread-tray, and cut a slice from the loaf for 
 her husband — then returned to the kitchen. 
 At that moment, Isaac, still anxiously 
 watching his mother, was startled by 
 seeing the same ghastly change pass over 
 her face, which had altered it so awfully 
 on the morning when Rebecca and she 
 first met. Before he could say a word, 
 she whispered with a look of horror : — 
 
 " Take me back ! — home, home again, 
 Isaac! Come with me, and never go 
 back again." 
 
 He was afraid to ask for an explana- 
 tion, — he could only sign to her to be 
 silent, and help her quickly to the door. As
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 295 
 
 they passed the bread-tray on the table, 
 she stopped and pointed to it. 
 
 ^^ Did you see what your wife cut 
 your bread with ? " she asked, in a low 
 whisper. 
 
 " No, mother — I was not noticing — 
 what was it ? " 
 
 ^aook!" 
 
 He did look. A new clasp-knife, with 
 a buckhorn handle, lay with the loaf in 
 the bread-tray. He stretched out his hand, 
 shudderingly, to possess himself of it ; 
 but, at the same time, there was a noise 
 in the kitchen, and his mother caught at 
 his arm. 
 
 ^^ The knife of the dream ! — Isaac, Tm 
 faint with fear — take me away, before 
 she comes back ! " 
 
 He was hardly able to support her — 
 the visible, tangible reality of the knife
 
 296 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 struck him with a panic, and utterly 
 destroyed any faint doubts that he might 
 have entertained up to this time, in 
 relation to the mysterious dream-warning 
 of nearly eight years before. By a last 
 desperate effort, he summoned self-posses- 
 sion enough to help his mother out of 
 the house — so quietly, that the "dream- 
 woman ^' (he thought of her by that 
 name now !) did not hear them depart- 
 ing from the kitchen. 
 
 " Don't go back, Isaac, — ^ don't go 
 back ! " implored Mrs. Scatehard, as he 
 turned to go away, after seeing her safely 
 seated again in her own room. 
 
 "I must get the knife," he answered 
 under his breath. His mother tried to 
 stop him again ; but he hurried out without 
 another word. 
 
 On his return, he found that his wife
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 297 
 
 had discovered their secret departure from 
 the house. She had been drinking, and 
 was in a fury of passion. The dinner in 
 the kitchen was flung under the grate ; 
 the cloth was off the parlour-table. Where 
 was the knife ? 
 
 Unwisely, he asked for it. She was 
 only too glad of the opportunity of irrita- 
 ting him, which the request afforded her. 
 "He wanted the knife, did he? Could he 
 give her a reason why ? — No ! — Then he 
 should not have it, — not if he went down 
 on his knees to ask for it." Further re- 
 criminations elicited the fact that she had 
 bought it a bargain — and that she consid- 
 ered it her own especial property. Isaac 
 saw the uselessness of attempting to get 
 the knife by fair means, and determined 
 to search for it, later in the day, in secret. 
 The search was unsuccessful. Night came
 
 298 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 on, and he left the house to walk about 
 the streets. He was afraid now to sleep 
 in the same room with her. 
 
 Three weeks passed. Still sullenly en- 
 raged with him, she would not give up 
 the knife; and still that fear of sleeping 
 in the same room with her possessed him. 
 He walked about at night, or dozed in 
 the parlour, or sat watching by his mo- 
 ther's bed-side. Before the expiration of 
 the first week in the new month his 
 mother died. It wanted then but ten 
 days of her son's birthday. She had longed 
 to live till that anniversary. Isaac was 
 present at her death ; and her last words 
 in this world were addressed to him : — 
 
 ''Don't go back, my son — don't go 
 back!" 
 
 He was obliged to go back, if it were 
 only to watch his wife. Exasperated to
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 299 
 
 the last degree by his distrust of her, 
 she had revengefully sought to add a 
 sting to his grief, during the last days 
 of his mother's illness, by declaring that 
 she would assert her right to attend the 
 funeral. In spite of all that he could 
 do or say, she held with wicked perti- 
 nacity to her word ; and, on the day ap- 
 pointed for the burial, forced herself — 
 inflamed and shameless with drink — into 
 her husband's presence, and declared that 
 she would walk in the funeral procession 
 to his mother's grave. 
 
 This last worst outrage, accompanied by 
 all that was most insulting in word and 
 look, maddened him for the moment. He 
 struck her. 
 
 The instant the blow was dealt, he re- 
 pented it. She crouched down, silent, in 
 a corner of the room, and eyed him
 
 300 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 steadily ; it was a look that cooled his hot 
 blood, and made him tremble. But there 
 was no time now to think of a means of 
 making atonement. Nothing remained, but 
 to risk the worst till the funeral was over. 
 There was but one way of making sure 
 of her. He locked her into her bedroom. 
 
 When he came back some hours after, 
 he found her sitting, very much altered 
 in look and bearing, by the bed-side, 
 with a bundle on her lap. She rose, and 
 faced him quietly, and spoke with a 
 strange stillness in her voice, a strange 
 repose in her eyes, a strange composure 
 in her manner. 
 
 "No man has ever struck me twice," 
 she said ; " and my husband shall have 
 no second opportunity. Set the door 
 open and let me go. From this day forth 
 we see each other no more."
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 301 
 
 Before he could answer she passed him, 
 and left the room. He saw her walk 
 away up the street. 
 
 Would she return ? 
 
 All that night he watched and waited ; 
 but no footstep came near the house. 
 The next night, overpoAvered by fatigue, 
 he lay down in bed in his clothes, 
 with the door locked, the key on the 
 table, and the candle burning. His slumber 
 was not disturbed. The third night, the 
 fourth, the fifth, the sixth passed, and 
 nothing happened. He lay down on the 
 seventh, still in his clothes, still with the 
 door locked, the key on the table, and 
 the candle burning; but easier in his 
 mind. 
 
 Easier in his mind, and in perfect health 
 of body, when he fell off to sleep. But 
 his rest was disturbed. He woke twice.
 
 302 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 without any sensation of uneasiness. But 
 the third time it was that never-to-be- 
 forgotten shivering of the night at the 
 lonely inn, that dreadful sinking pain at 
 the heart, which once more aroused him in 
 an instant. 
 
 His eyes opened towards the left hand 
 side of the bed, and there stood — 
 
 The Dream-Woman again ? No ! His 
 wife ; the living reality with the dream- 
 spectre's face — in the dream-spectre's atti- 
 tude; the fair arm up — the knife clasped 
 in the delicate white hand. 
 
 He sprang upon her, almost at the 
 instant of seeing her, and yet not 
 quickly enough to prevent her from hiding 
 the knife. Without a word from him, 
 — without a cry from her — he pinioned 
 her in a chair. With one hand he felt 
 up her sleeve — and there, where the dream-
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 303 
 
 woman had hidden the knife, his wife had 
 hidden it — the knife with the buck-horn 
 handle, that looked like new. 
 
 In the despair of that fearful moment his 
 brain was steady, his heart was calm. He 
 looked at her fixedly, with the knife in his 
 hand, and said these last words : — 
 
 *' You told me we should see each other 
 no more, and you have come back. It is 
 my turn, now, to go, and to go for ever. 
 / say that we shall see each other no 
 more ; and my word shall not be broken." 
 
 He left her, and set forth into the night. 
 There was a bleak wind abroad, and the 
 smell of recent rain was in the air. The 
 distant church clocks chimed the quarter as 
 he walked rapidly beyond the last houses 
 in the suburb. He asked the first police- 
 man he met what hour that was, of which 
 the quarter past had just struck.
 
 304 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 The man referred sleepily to his watch, 
 and answered, ** Two o'clock." Two in the 
 morning. What day of the month was this 
 day that had just begun ? He reckoned it 
 up from the date of his mother's funeral. 
 The fatal parallel was complete — it was his 
 birthday ! 
 
 Had he escaped the mortal peril which 
 his dream foretold ? or had he only received 
 a second warning ? 
 
 As that ominous doubt forced itself on 
 his mind, he stopped, reflected, and turned 
 back again towards the city. He was still 
 resolute to hold to his word, and never to 
 let her see him more ; but there was a 
 thought now in his mind of having her 
 watched and followed. The knife was in his 
 possession ; the world was before him ; but 
 a new distrust of her — a vague, unspeak- 
 able, superstitious dread — had overcome him.
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 305 
 
 "I must know where she goes, now she 
 thinks I have left her/' he said to himself 
 as he stole back wearily to the precincts of 
 his house. 
 
 It was still dark. He had left the candle 
 burning in the bedchamber ; but when he 
 looked up to the window of the room 
 now, there was no light in it. He crept 
 cautiously to the house-door. On going 
 away, he remembered to have closed it ; 
 on trying it now, he found it open. 
 
 He waited outside, never losing sight 
 of the house, till daylight. Then he ven- 
 tured indoors — listened, and heard nothing — 
 looked into kitchen, scullery, parlour ; and 
 found nothing : went up, at last, into the 
 bedroom — it was empty. A pick-lock lay on 
 the floor, betraying how she had gained 
 entrance in the night ; and that was the 
 only trace of her. 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Whither had she gone? That no mortal 
 tongue could tell him. The darkness had 
 covered her flight ; and when the day broke 
 no man could say where the light found her. 
 
 Before leaving the house and the town for 
 ever, he gave instructions to a friend and 
 neighbour to sell his furniture for anything 
 that it would fetch, and apply the proceeds 
 to employing the police to trace her. The 
 directions were honestly followed, and the 
 money was all spent ; but the inquiries 
 led to nothing. The pick-lock on the bed- 
 room floor remained the one last useless trace 
 of the Dream- Woman. 
 
 # # * * * 
 
 At this point of the narrative the landlord 
 paused, and, turning towards the window of 
 the room in which we were sitting, looked 
 in the direction of the stable-yard. 
 
 '^ So far," he said, " I tell you what was
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 307 
 
 told to me. The little that remains to be 
 added lies within my own experience. 
 Between two and three months after the 
 events I have just been relating, Isaac 
 Scatchard came to me, withered and old- 
 looking before his time, just as you saw him 
 to-day. He had his testimonials to character 
 with him, and he asked for employment 
 here. Knowing that my wife and he were 
 distantly related, I gave him a trial, in con- 
 sideration of that relationship, and liked him 
 in spite of his queer habits. He is as 
 sober, honest, and willing a man as there is 
 in England. As for his restlessness at 
 night, and his sleeping away his leisure 
 time in the day, who can wonder at it 
 after hearing his story? Besides, he never 
 objects to being roused up, when he's 
 wanted, so there's not much inconvenience 
 to complain of, after all." 
 
 VOL. I. X 2
 
 308 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 " I suppose he is afraid of a return 
 of that dreadful dream, and of waking out 
 of it in the dark ? " said I. 
 
 "No," returned the landlord. "The 
 dream comes back to him so often, that 
 he has got to bear with it by this time 
 resignedly enough. It's his wife keeps him 
 waking at night, as he has often told 
 me." 
 
 " What ! Has she never been heard of 
 
 yet?" 
 
 "Never. Isaac himself has the one per- 
 petual thought about her, that she is 
 alive and looking for him. I believe he 
 wouldn't let himself drop off to sleep to- 
 wards two in the morning, for a king's 
 ransom. Two in the morning, he says, is 
 the time she will find him, one of these 
 days. Two in the morning is the time 
 all the year round, when he likes to be
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 809 
 
 most certain that he has got that clasp- 
 knife safe about him. He does not mind 
 being alone, as long as he is awake, ex- 
 cept on the night before his birthday, 
 when he firmly believes himself to be in 
 peril of his life. The birthday has only 
 come round once since he has been here ; 
 and then he sat up, along with the night- 
 porter. ^ She's looking for me,' is all he 
 says, when anybody speaks to him about 
 the one anxiety of his life ; ' she's looking 
 for me.' He may be right. She may 
 be looking for him. Who can tell?" 
 "Who can tell?" said I.
 
 310 
 
 THE FOURTH DAY. 
 
 The sky once more cloudy and threatening. 
 No news of George. I corrected Morgan's 
 second story to-day ; numbered it Seven ; 
 and added it to our stock. 
 
 Undeterred by the weather, Miss Jessie 
 set off this morning on the longest ride she 
 had yet undertaken. She had heard — 
 through one of my brother's labourers, I 
 believe — of the actual existence, in this 
 nineteenth century, of no less a per- 
 sonage than a Welsh Bard, who was to be
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 311 
 
 found at a distant farm-house, far beyond the 
 limits of Owen's property. The prospect 
 of discovering this remarkable relic of past 
 times hurried her off, under the guidance 
 of her ragged groom, in a high state ot 
 excitement, to see and hear the venerable 
 man. She was away the whole day, and 
 for the first time since her visit, she kept 
 us waiting more than half an hour for 
 dinner. The moment we all sat down 
 to table, she informed us, to Morgan's 
 great delight, that the bard was a rank 
 Impostor. 
 
 '^ Why, what did you expect to see ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 "A Welsh Patriarch, to be sure, with 
 a long white beard, flowing robes, and a 
 harp to match," answered Miss Jessie. 
 
 ^'And what did you find?" 
 
 "A highly-respectable middle-aged rustic;
 
 312 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 a smiling, smoothly-shaven, obliging man, 
 dressed in a blue swallow-tailed coat, with 
 brass buttons, and exhibiting his bardic legs 
 in a pair of extremely stout and com- 
 fortable corduroy trousers." 
 '^ But he sang old Welsh songs, surely ? '^ 
 "Sang!— ril tell you what he did. He 
 sat down on a Windsor chair, without a harp, 
 he put his hands in his pockets, cleared his 
 throat, looked up at the ceiling, and suddenly 
 burst into a series of the shrillest falsetto 
 screeches I ever heard in my life. My 
 own private opinion is that he was suf- 
 fering from hydrophobia. I have lost all 
 belief, henceforth and for ever, in Bards — 
 all belief in everything, in short, except 
 your very delightful stories and this re- 
 markably good dinner.*' 
 
 Ending with that smart double fire of 
 compliments to her hosts, the Queen of Hearts
 
 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 313 
 
 honoured us all three with a smile of 
 approval, and transferred her attention to 
 her knife and fork. 
 
 The number drawn to-night was One. 
 On examination of the Purple Volume, it 
 proved to be my turn to read again. 
 
 " Our story to-night," I said, ^^ contains 
 the narrative of a very remarkable ad- 
 venture which really befell me when I 
 was a young man. At the time of my 
 life when these events happened, I was 
 dabbling in literature when I ought to 
 have been studying law, and travelling on 
 the Continent when I ought to have been 
 keeping my terms at Lincoln^s Inn. At 
 the outset of the story, you will find 
 that I refer to the county in which I 
 lived in my youth, and to a neighbouring 
 family possessing a large estate in it. That 
 county is situated in a part of England
 
 314 THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 far away from the Glen Tower ; and 
 that family is therefore not to be asso- 
 ciated with any present or former neigh- 
 bours of ours in this part of the world." 
 After saying these necessary words of 
 explanation, I opened the first page, and 
 began the Story of my Own Adventure. 
 I observed that my audience started a little 
 as I read the title; which I must add, in 
 my own defence, had been almost forced 
 on my choice by the peculiar character of 
 the narrative. It was, "Mad Monkton.'' 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 E. BORN, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, REGENT'S PARK.
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH ST, LONDON. 
 
 NEW AND INTERESTING WORKS 
 
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 Regency are to be viewed. The lovers of Court gossip will also find not a little for their 
 edification and amusement." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " These volumes cover a complete epoch, the period of the Regency — a period of large 
 and stirring English history. To the Duke of Buckingham, who thus, out of his family 
 archives, places within our reach authentic and exceedingly minute pictures of the governors 
 of England, we owe grateful acknowledgements. His papers abound in fresh lights on old 
 topics, and in new illustrations and anecdotes. The intrinsic value of the letters is enhanced 
 by the judicious setting of the explanatory comment that accompanies them, which is put 
 together with much care and honesty."— ^jraminer. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE COURT AND CABINETS OF 
 
 GEORGE THE THIRD, From Original Family Documents. By 
 the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM AND CHANDOS, K.G., &c. The 
 Third and Fourth Volumes, comprising the period from 1800 to 1810 
 and completing this important work. 8vo., with Portraits. 30s. bound. 
 
 "The present volumes exhibit the same features as the former portion of the series 
 The general reader is entertained, and the reader for historical purposes is enlighteoed. 
 Of their value and importance, there cannot be two opinions." — Athenceum. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LAST FOUR POPES; 
 
 AND OF ROME IN THEIR TIMES. By His Eminence CARDINAL 
 WISEMAN. 1 large vol. 8vo. with Portraits, 21s. bound. 
 
 "There is no dynasty of European sovereigns about which we English entertain so 
 much vague curiosity, or have so little information, as about the successors to the Popedom. 
 Cardinal Wiseman is just the author to meet this curiosity. His book is the lively record 
 of what he has himself seen, and what none but himself, perhaps, has bad so good an 
 opportunity of thoroughly estimating. There is a gossiping, all-telling style about the 
 book which is certain to make it popular with English readers." — John Bull. 
 
 "A picturesque book on Rome and its ecclesiastical sovereigns, by an eloquent Roman 
 Catholic. Cardinal Wisen»an has here treated a special subject with so much generality and 
 geniality, that his recollections will excite no ill-feeling in those who are most conscientiously 
 opposed to every idea of human infallibility represented in Papal domination."— J/AifTKsum. 
 
 " In the description of the scenes, the ceremonies, the ecclesiastical society, the manners 
 and habits of Sacerdotal Rome, this work is unrivalled. It is full of anecdotes. We could 
 fill columns with amusing extracts."— Chronicle.
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 HENRY III. KING OF FRANCE AND POLAND; 
 
 HIS COURT AND TIMES. From numerous unpublished sources, in- 
 duding MS, Documents in the Bibliotheque Imperiale, and the Archives 
 of France and Italy. By MISS FREER, Author of " Marguerite d'An- 
 gouleme," " Elizabeth de Valois, and the Court of Philip II," &c. 3 vols, 
 post 8vo. with fine portraits, 3Is. 6d. bound 
 
 "Miss Freer having won for herself the reputation of a most painstaking and trust- 
 worthy historian not less than an accomplished writer, by her previous memoirs of 
 sovereigns of the houses of Valois and Navarre, will not fail to meet with a most 
 cordial and hearty welcome for her present admirable history of Henry III., the last of 
 the French kings of the house of Valois. We refer our readers to the volumes them- 
 selves for the interesting details of the life and reign of Henry III., his residence in 
 Poland, his marriage with Louise de Lorraine, his cruelties, his hypocrisies, his penances, 
 his assassination by the hands of the monk Jaques Clement, &c. Upon these points, as 
 well as with reference to other persons who occupied a prominent position during this 
 period, abundant information is afforded by Miss Freer; and the public will feel with us 
 that a deep debt of gratitude is due to that lady for the faithful and admirable manner in 
 which she has pourtrayed the Court and Times of Henry the Third." — Chronicle. 
 
 "The previous historical labours of Miss Freer were so successful as to afford a rich 
 pramise in the present undertaking, the performance of which, it is not too much to say, 
 exceeds expectation, and testifies to her being not only the most accomplished, but the 
 most accurate of modern female historians. The Life of Henry III. of France is a 
 contribution to literature which will have a reputation as imperishable as its present 
 fame must be large and increasing. Indeed, the book is of such a truly fascinating 
 character, that once begun it is impossible to leave it."— Messenger. 
 
 " Among the class of chronicle histories. Miss Freer's Henry the Third of France is 
 errtltled to a high rank. As regards style and treatment Miss Freer has made a great 
 advance upon her ' Elizabeth de Valois,* as that book was an advance upon her 
 'Marguerite D'Angoultime.' " — Spectator. 
 
 "We heartily recommend this work to the reading public. Miss Freer has much, per- 
 haps all, of the quick perception and picturesque style by which Miss Strickland has 
 earned her well-deserved popularity." — Critic. 
 
 ELIZABETH DE VALOIS, QUEEN OF SPAIN, AND 
 
 THE COURT OF PHILIP II. From numerous unpublished sources in 
 the Archives of France, Italy, and Spain. By MISS FREER. 2 vols, 
 post 8vo. with fine Portraits by Heath, 21s. 
 
 •* It is not attributing too much to Bliss Freer to say that herself and Mr. Prescott are 
 probably the best samples of our modern biographers. The present volumes will be a boon 
 to posterity for which it will be grateful. Equally suitable for instruction and amusement, 
 they portray one of the most interesting characters and periods of history." — John Bull. 
 
 ** Such a book as the memoir of Elizabeth de Valois is a literary treasure which will be 
 the more a))preclated as its merits obtain that reputation to which they most justly are 
 entitled. Miss Freer has done her utmost to make the facts of Elizabeth's, Don Carlos', and 
 Philip II.'s careers fully known, as they actually transpired." — Bell's Messenger. 
 
 THE LIFE OF MARGUERITE D'ANGOULEME, 
 
 QUEEN of NAVARRE, SISTER of FRANCIS I. By MISS FREER. 
 Second Edition, 2 vols, with fine Portraits, 21s. 
 
 "This is a very useful and amusing book. It is a good work, very well done. The 
 authoress is quite equal in power and grace to Miss Strickland. She must have spent great 
 tim* and labour in collecting the information, which she imparts in an easy and agreeable 
 maimer. It is difficult to lay down her book after having once begun it. This is owing 
 partly to the interesting nature of the subject, partly to the skilful manner in which it has 
 been treated. No other life of Marguerite has yet been published, even in France. Indeed, 
 till Louis Philippe ordered the collection and publication of manuscripts relating :o the 
 history of France, no such work could be published. It is difficult to conceive how, under 
 any circum«tances, it could have been better done." — Standard.
 
 HURST AND BIACKETT S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 LODGE'S PEERAGE AND BARONETAGE FOR 1859. 
 
 Under the Especial Patronage of Her Majesty and H.R.H. the 
 Prince Consort. Corrected throughout by the Nobility. Twenty-Eighth 
 Edition, in 1 vol. royal 8vo., with the Arms beautifully engraved, handsomely 
 bound, with gilt edges, price 31s. 6d. 
 
 Lodge's Peerage and Baronetage is acknowledged to be tire most 
 complete, as well as the most elegant, work of the kind. As an established and 
 authentic authority on all questions respecting the family histories, honours, 
 and connections of the titled aristocracy, no work has ever stood so high. It is 
 published under the especial patronage of Her Majesty, and His Royal Highness 
 the Prince Consort, and is annually corrected throughout, from the personal 
 communications of the Nobility. It is the only work of its class, in which, 
 the type being kept constantly standing, every correction is made in its proper 
 place to the date of publication, an advantage which gives it supremacy over all 
 its competitors. Independently of its full and authentic information respecting 
 the existing Peers and Baronets of the realm, the most sedulous attention is 
 given in its pages to the collateral branches of the various noble families, and 
 the names of many thousand individuals are introduced, which do not appear in 
 other records of the titled classes. For its authority, correctness, and facility of 
 arrangement, and the beauty of its typography and binding, the work is justly en- 
 titled to the high place it occupies on the tables of Her Majesty and the Nobility. 
 
 " Lodge's Peerage must supersede all other works of the kind, for two reasons ; first, it 
 is on a better plan ; and, secondly, it is better executed. We can safely pronounce it to be 
 the readiest, the most useful, and exactest of modern works on the subject." — Spectator. 
 
 " A work which corrects all errors of former works. It is the production of a herald, 
 we had almost said, by birth, but certainly by profession and studies, Mr. Lodge, the Norroy 
 King of Arms. It is a most useful publication." — Times. 
 
 "As perfect a Peerage of the British Empire as we are ever likely to see publ^hed. 
 Great pains have been taken to make it as complete and accurate as possible. The work 
 is patronised by Her Majesty and the Prince Consort ; and it is worthy of a place in every 
 gentleman's library, as well as in every public institution." — Herald. 
 
 "As a work of contemporaneous history, this volume is of great value — the material* 
 having been derived from the most authentic sources and in the majority of cases emanating 
 from the noble families themselves. It contains all the needful information respecting the 
 nobility of the Empire." — Post. 
 
 " This work should form a portion of eveiy gentleman's library. At all times, the hifor- 
 mation which it contains, derived from official sources exclusively at the command of the 
 author, is of importance to most classes of the community ; to the antiquary it must be 
 invaluable, for implicit reliance may be placed on its contents." — Globe. 
 
 " This work derives great value from the high authority of Mr. Lodge. The plan 
 is excellent." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " When any book has run through twenty-seven editions, its reputation is so it>dellbly 
 stamped, that it requires neither criticism nor praise. It is but just, however, to say, that 
 ' Lodge's Peer ge and Baronetage ' is the most elegant and accurate, and the best of its 
 class. The chief point of excellence attaching to this Peerage consists neither In its 
 elegance of type nor its completeness of illustration, but in its authenticity, which is insured 
 by the letter-press being always kept standing, and by immediate alteration being marie 
 whenever any change takes place, either by death or otherwise, amongst the nobility of the 
 United Kingdom. The work has obtained the special patronage of Her Most Gracious 
 Majesty, and of His Royal Highness the Prince Consort, which patronage has never been 
 better or more worthily bestowed." — Messenger. 
 
 " ' Lodge's Peerage and Baronetage' has become, as it were, an 'institution' of this 
 country ; in other words, it is indispensable, and cannot be done without, by any persoa 
 having business in the great world. The authenticity of this valuable work, as regards the 
 several topics to which it refers, has never been exceeded, and, consequently, it must be 
 received as one of the most important contributions to social and domestic history extant. 
 As a book of reference — indispensible in most cases, useful in all— it should be in the 
 hands of every one havhig connections in, or tranaaciious with, the aristocracy."—- Oi«er»fir.
 
 HISTORY A^'D BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 LODGE'S GENEALOGY OF THE PEERAGE AND 
 
 BARONETAGE OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. A New and Revised 
 Edition. Uniform with " The Peerage" Volume, with the arms 
 beautifully engraved, handsomely bound with gilt edges, price 3 Is. 6d. 
 
 The desire very generally manifested for a republication of this volume has 
 dictated the present entire revision of its contents. The Armorial Bearings 
 prefixed to the History of each Noble Family, render the work complete in 
 tteelf and uniform with the Volume of The Peerage, which it is intended to 
 accompany and illustrate. The object of the whole Work, in its two distinct 
 yet combined characters, has been useful and correct information ; and the 
 careful attention devoted to this object throughout will, it is hoped, render the 
 Work worthy of the August Patronage with which it is honoured and of the 
 liberal assistance accorded by its Noble Correspondents, and will secure from 
 them and from the Public, the same cordial reception it has hitherto experienced. 
 The great advantage of •' The Genealogy" being thus given in a separate volume, 
 Mr. Lodge has himself explained in the Preface to " The Peerage." 
 
 EHSODES OF FRENCH HISTORY DURING THE 
 
 CONSULATE AND FIRST EMPIRE. By MISS PARDOE, author of 
 " The Life of Marie de Medicis," &c. 2 vols. 21s. 
 
 "We recommend Miss Pardoe's ' Episodes' as very pleasant reading. They cannot 
 fail to entertain and instruct." — Critic 
 
 " One of the most amusing and instructive books Miss Pardee has ever given to the 
 ptfblic." — Messenger. 
 
 " In this lively and agreeable book Miss Pardoe gives a fair picture of the society ol 
 the times, which has never been treated in a more interesting and pleasant manner." — 
 Chronicle. 
 
 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF GEORGE VILLIERS, 
 
 FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. By MRS. THOMSON, Author of 
 • The Life of the Duchess of Marlborough," &c. 2 vols, with Portrait. 
 (Just Ready). 
 
 THE LIVES OF PHILIP HOWARD, EARL OF 
 
 ARUNDEL, AND OF ANNE DACRES, HIS WIFE. Edited from tlte 
 Original MSS. By the DUKE OF NORFOLK, E.M. 1 vol. antique. 
 
 ••These biographies will be read with interest. They throw valuable light on the 
 80<*al habits and the prevalent feelings of the Elizabethau age."— Literary Gazette. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF BERANGER. WRITTEN BY HIM- 
 
 SELF. English Copyright Edition. Second Edition, with numerous 
 
 Additional Anecdotes and Notes, hitherto unpul)lished. 8vo. with Portrait. 
 
 •* This is the Copyright Translation of Beranger's Biography. It appears in a handsome 
 ▼oikin>e, and is worthy of all praise as an honest piece of work. In this account of his lire, 
 the Poet displays all the mingled gaiety and earnestness, the warm-hearted sincerity, 
 inseparable from his character. He tells, with an exquisite simplicity, the story of his early 
 years. His lite, he says, is the fairest commentary on his songs, therefore he writt-s it. 
 The charm of the narrative is altogether fresh. It includes a variety of chansons, now first 
 printed, touching closely on the personal hiptory of which they form a part, shrewd sayings, 
 and, as the field of action in life widens, many sketches of contemporaries, and free judgments 
 upon men and things. There is a full appendix to the Jfemoir, rich in letters hitht-r*© 
 iiMpublished. and in information which completes the story of Bdrangcr's life. The book 
 ahould l>e read by all." — Ejratmu-er.
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT'S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF ORDERS OF KNIGHTHOOD, AND 
 
 DECORATIONS OF HONOUR OF ALL NATIONS ; COMPRISING 
 AN HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF EACH ORDER, MILITARY, NAVAL 
 AND CIVIL; with Lists of the Knights and Companions of each British 
 Order. Embellished with Five Hundred Fac-simile Coloured 
 Illustrations of the Insignia of the Various Orders. Edited 
 by SIR BERNARD BURKE, Ulster King of Arras. 1 vol. royal Bvo., 
 handsomely hound, with gilt edges, price ^2. 2s. 
 
 ••This valuable and attractive work may claim the merit of being the best of its kind. 
 It is so comprehensive in its character, and so elegant in its style, that it far outstrips all 
 competitors. A full historical account of the orders of every country is given, with lists of 
 the Knights and Companions of each British Order. Among the most attractive features of 
 the work are the illustrations. They are numerous and beautiful, highly coloured, and 
 giving an exact representation of the different decorations. The origin of each Order, the 
 rules and regulations, and the duties incumbent on its members, are all given at full 
 length. The fact of the work being under the supervision of Sir Bernard Burke, and endorsed 
 by his authority, gives it another recommendation to the public favour."— Swn 
 
 " This is, indeed, a splendid book. It is an uncommon combination of a library book 
 of reference and a book for a boudoir, undoubtedly uniting beauty and utility. It gives a 
 sketch of the fonndation and history of all recognised decorations of honour, among all 
 nations, arranged in alphabetical order. The fac-smiles of the insignia are well drawn and 
 coioured, and present a brilliant effect. Sir Bernard Burke has done his work well ; and 
 this book of the quintessence of the aristocracy will soon find its place in every libaary and 
 drawing room." — .Globe 
 
 JOURNAL OF AN ENGLISH OFFICER IN INDLA.. 
 
 By MAJOR NORTH, 60th Rifles, Deputy Judge Advocate- General, and 
 Aide-de-Camp to General Havelock. 1 vol. with portrait, 10s. 6d. bound. 
 
 " We must commend Major's North's ' Journal ' to universal approbation. It is manly 
 in tone, noble in expression, and full of feeling, alike honourable to the soldier and and 
 gallant profession. When we state that the book tells of the progress of the lion-hearted 
 Havelock's little band which relieved Lucknow, and is the first faithful record of the deeds 
 of arms performed by that phalanx of heroes, we have said enough to cause it to be read, 
 we are convinced, by every person who can avail himself of the opportunity of learning 
 what were the hardships of his countrymen, and how immense were the sacrifices they 
 made to save the English besieged inhabitants from a repetition of the atrocities of Cawn- 
 pore. We have as yet seen no book connected with the Indian mutiny which has given us 
 80 much gratification as Major North's Journal." — Messenger. 
 
 EASTERN HOSPITALS AND ENGLISH NURSES; 
 
 The Narrative of Twelve Months' Experience in the Hospitals of KoulaU 
 and Scutari. By A LADY VOLUNTEER. Third and Cheaper Edition, 
 1 vol. post 8vo. with Illustrations, 6s. bound. 
 
 "A production which, not only in the subject-matter, but in its treatment, is filled with 
 he purest and best evidences of womanly tenderness." — The Times. 
 
 "The story of the noble deeds done by Miss Nightingale and her devoted sisterhood 
 will never be more effectively told than in the beautiful narrative contained in these 
 volumes." — John Bull. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ELIZABETH DAVIS, A BA- 
 
 LACLAVA NURSE. Edited by JANE WILLIAMS. 2 vols. 
 
 " In this true story of a Welshwoman's life, we fancy, now and then, that we are reading 
 fiction by Defoe. The course of events is so natural, yet so unusual and amusing, the whole 
 book, is so unlike the majority of stories and biographies now-a-days published, that it is 
 in the truest and best sense of the word a new book." — Examingr.
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BONNEVAL: HER LIFE AND 
 
 LETTERS. By LADY GEORGIANA FULLERTON. 2 vols. 21s. 
 
 " The whole work forms one of those touching stories which create a lasting im- 
 pression." — AthencEum. 
 
 "The life of the Count de Bonneval is a page in history, but it reads like a romance 
 that of the Countess, removed from war and politics, never oversteps the domestic sphere, 
 yet is equally romantic and singular. An accomplished writer has taken up the threads of 
 this modest life, and brought out her true character in a very interesting and animated me- 
 moir. The story of the Countess of Bonneval is related with that happy art and grace 
 which so characterise the author."— f/. S. Magazine. 
 
 THE LIFE OF MARIE DE MEDICIS, QUEEN OF 
 
 FRANCE, Consort of Henry IV., and Regent under Louis XIII. 
 By MISS PARDOE. Second Edition. 3 vols. 8vo. Portraits. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE BARONESS D'OBERKIRCH, 
 
 Illustrative of the Secret History of the Courts of France, 
 Russia, and Germany. Written by HERSELF, and Edited by Her 
 Grandson, the COUNT DE MONTBRISON. 3 vols, post 8vo. 15s.' 
 
 "The Baroness d'Oberkirch being the intimate friend of the Empress of Russia, wife of 
 Paul I., and the confidential companion of the Duchess of Bourbon, her facilities for 
 obtaining information respecting the most private affairs of the principal Courts of Europe, 
 render her Memoirs unrivalled as a book of interesting anecdotes of the royal, noble and 
 other celebrated individuals who flourished on the continent during the latter part of the 
 lost century. The volumes form a valuable addition to the personal history of an important 
 period. They deserve general popularity." — Daily News. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL, 2 vols, with Portrait. 21s. 
 
 "A book sure to attract public attention, and well meriting M."— Globe. 
 
 SCOTTISH HEROES IN THE DAYS OF WALLACE 
 
 AND BRUCE. By the Rev. A. LOW, A.M. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF MAJOR 
 
 GENERAL SIR W. NOTT, G.C.B., Commander of the Army of 
 Candahar, and Envoy at the Court of Lucknow. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 with Portrait. 16s. hound. 
 
 RULE AND MISRULE OF THE ENGLISH IN 
 
 AMERICA. By the Author of " SAM SLICK." 2 vols, post 8vo. 
 ** We conceive this work to be by far the most valuable and important Judge Haliburton 
 has ever written. While teeming with interest, moral and historical, to the general reader, 
 it equally constitutes a philosophical study for the politician and statesman. It will be found 
 to let in a flood of light upon the actual origin, formation, and progress of the republic of 
 the United States."— iVa»o/ and Military Gazette. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF WEST END LIFE; WITH 
 
 SKETCHES OF SOCIETY IN PARIS, INDIA, «&c. By MAJOR CIIAMBRE, 
 late 17th Lancers. 2 vols, with Portrait of George IV. 
 
 "We find in Major Chambre's lively sketches a mass of amusing anecdotes relating to 
 persons eminent in their day for their position, wit, and political reputation. All that 
 elates to George IV. will be read with attention and interest." — Messenger
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT'S NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 SIXTEEN YEAES OF AN ARTIST'S LIFE IN 
 
 MOROCCO, SPAIN, AND THE CANARY ISLANDS. By MRS. 
 ELIZABETH MURRAY. 2 vols. 8vo. with Coloured Illustrations. 
 
 " Mrs, Murray, wife, we believe, of the English Consul at Teneriffe, is one of the first of 
 ffmale English Water Colour Artists. She draws well, and hur colour is bright, pure, trans- 
 parent, and sparkling. Her book is like her painting, luminous, rich and fresh. We welcome 
 it (as the public will also do) with sincere pleasure. It is a hearty book, written by a cle>'er, 
 quick-sighted, and ihoUi.'htful woman, who, slipping a steel })en on the end of her brush, 
 thus doubly armed, uses one end as well as the other, being with both a bright colourer, 
 and accurate describer of colours, outlines, sensations, landsca[)es and things. Inawowl, 
 Mrs. Murray is a clever artist, who writes forcibly and agreeably." — Athenceiim. 
 
 "Mrs. Eliiabeth Murray is known to the artistic world as the principal star of the 
 Female Exhibition of Paintings. She left England as she tells us, at eighteen, with all the 
 hopes and aspirations of an artist before her. At Morocco she becomes the wife of a gentle- 
 man who is successively Consul at Tangiers and Teneriffe. She has, in consequence, pecu- 
 liar advantages for the observation of Sloorish and Spanish society, and as she possesses 
 great observation and wields the pen as cleverly as the pencil, she has produced a book not 
 only of interest, but of importance. In every way, whether descriptive or anecdotal, the 
 work claims to be placed amongst the very best works of travel in the English Lan- 
 guage." — Chronicle, 
 
 PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A SOLDIER; OR, 
 
 MILITARY SERVICE IN THE EAST AND WEST. By LIEUT.XOL. 
 SIR JAMES E. ALEXANDER, K.C.L.S., &c. 2 vols. 
 
 REVELATIONS OF PRISON LIFE; WITH AN EN- 
 
 QuiRY INTO Prison Discipline and Secondary Punishments. By 
 GEORGE LAVAL CHESTERTON, 25 Years Governor of the House of 
 Correction at Cold-Bath Fields. Third Edition, Revised. 1 vol. 10s. Cd. 
 
 " Mr. Chesterton has had a rare experience of Muman frailty. He has lived with the 
 felon, the forger, the lorette, the vagabond, the murderer; has looked into the darkest 
 sepulchres of the heart, without finding reason to despair of mankind. In his belief the 
 worst of men have still some of the angel left. Such a testimony from such a quarter is full 
 of novelty as it is of interest. As a curious bit of human history these volumes are remark- 
 able. They are very real, very simple; dramatic without exaggeration, philosophic without 
 being dull." — AthencEum. 
 
 THE OLD COURT SUBURB; OR, MEMORIALS OF 
 
 KENSINGTON ; Regal, Critical, and Anecdotical. By LEM5H 
 HUNT. Second Edition. 2 vols, post 8vo. 
 "A delightful book. It will be welcome to all readers, and most welcome to those 
 who have a love for the best kinds of reading."— ^aa/winer. 
 
 MY EXILE. BY ALEXANDER HERZEN. 2 vols. 
 
 •• From these admirable memoirs the reader may derive a clear idea of Russian political 
 society. Mr. Herzen's narrative, ably and unaffectedly written, and undoubtedly authentic, is 
 indeed superior in Interest to nine-tenths of the existing works on B.us%\n."—Atheiueum. 
 
 A PRACTICAL GUIDE IN OBTAINING PROBATES, 
 
 ADMINISTRATIONS, &c., in Her Majesty's Court of Probate; with 
 numerous Precedents. By EDWARD WEATHERLY, of Doctor's Com- 
 mons. Dedicated, by permission, to the Right Hon. Sir Cressweli.. 
 Cresswell, Judge of the Nevr Court of Probate. Cheaper Edition. 12s 
 "A most valuable book. Its contents are very diversified— meeting almost every 
 vAse.''— Solicitor's Journal.
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 
 
 ORIENTAL AND WESTERN SIBERIA ; A NAE- 
 
 RATivE OF Seven- Years' Exploratioxs and Adventures in Siberia, 
 Mongolia, the Kirghis Steppes, Chinese Tartary, and Central 
 Asia. By THOMAS WITLAM ATKINSON. In one large volume, 
 ro^•al 8vo., Price £2. 2s., elegantly bound- Embellished with upvarda 
 of 50 Illustratious, including numerous beautifully coloured plates, from 
 drawings by the Author, and a map. 
 
 "By virtue alike of its text and its pictures, we place this book of travel in the first 
 rank among those illustrated gift books now so much sought by the public. Mr. Atkinson's 
 book is most readable. The geogragher tinds in it notice of ground heretofore left 
 undescribed, the ethnologist, geologist, and botanist, find notes and pictures, too, of which 
 they know the value, the sportraan's taste is gratified by chronicles of sport, the lover of 
 adventure will find a number of perils and escapes to hang over, and the lover of a frank 
 good-humoured way of speech will find the book a pleasant one in every page. Seven 
 years of wandering, thirty-nine thousand five hundred miles of moving to and fro in a wild 
 aad almost unknown country, should yield a book worth reading, and they do." — Examiner. 
 
 "A book of travels which in value and sterling interest must take rank as a landmark 
 n geographical literature. Its coloured illustrations and wood engravings are of a high 
 order, and add a great charm to the narrative. Mr. Atkinson has travelled where it is 
 believed no European has been before. He has seen nature in the wildest, sublimest, and 
 also the most beautiful aspects the old world can present. These he has depicted by pen 
 and pencil. He has done both well. Many a fireside will rejoice in the determination which 
 converted the artist into an author. Mr. Atkinson is a thorough Englishman, brave and 
 accomplished, a lover of adventure and sport of every kind. He kuows enough of mineralogy, 
 geology, and botany to impart a scientific interest to his descriptions and drawings ; 
 possessing a keen sense of humour, he tells many a racy story. The sportsman and the 
 lover of adventure, whether by flood or field, will fiud ample stores in the stirring taiea of 
 his iuteresting travels." — Daily Neus. 
 
 "An animated and intelligent narrative, appreciably enriching the literature of English 
 travel. Mr. Atkinson's sketches were made by express permission of the late Emperor of 
 Russia. Perhaps no English artist was ever before admitted into this enchanted land of 
 history, or provided with the talisman and amulet of a general passport; and well has Mr. 
 Atkinson availed himself of the privilege. Our extracts will have ser\-ed to illustrate the 
 originality and variety of Mr. Atkinson's observations and adventures during his protracted 
 wanderings of nearly forty thousand miles. Mr. Atkiuson's pencil was never idle, and he 
 has certainly brought home with him the forms, and colours, and other characteristics of a 
 most extraordinary diversity of groups and scenes. As a sportsman Mr. Atkinson enjoyed 
 a plenitude of excitement. His narrative is well stored with incidents of adventuie. 
 His ascent of the Bielouka is a chapter of the most vivid romance of travel, yet it is lees 
 attractive than his relations of wanderings across the Desert of Gobi and up the Taognoa 
 Cbiuu."—Athena:um. 
 
 "We predict that Mr. Atkinson's 'Siberia' will very often assume the shape of a 
 Christmas Present or New Year's Gift, as it possesses, in an eminent degree, four very 
 precious and suitable qualities for that purpose, — namely, usefulness, eleirance, instruction 
 and novelty. It is a work of great value, not merely on account of its splendid illustrationa, 
 bat for the amount it contains of authentic and highly interesting intelligence concerning 
 regions which, iu all probability, has never, previous to Mr. Atkinson's explorations, been 
 visited by an European. Mr. Atkinson's adventures are told in a manly style. The valuable 
 and interesting information the book contains, gathered at a vast expense, is lucidly 
 arranged, and altogether the work is one that the author-artist may well be proud of, and 
 with which those who study it cannot fail to be delighted. "—yoA/i Bull. 
 
 •"To the geographer, the geologist, the ethnographer, the sportsman, and to those who 
 read only for amusement, this will be an acceptable volume. Mr. Atkinson is not only an 
 adventurous traveller, but a correct and amusing writer."— Literacy (Jazette.
 
 10 HURST AND BLACKETt's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 LAKE NGAMI; OR EXPLORATIONS AND DIS- 
 
 COVERIES DURING FoUR YeARs' WaNDERINGS IN THE WiLDS OF 
 
 South-Western Africa. By CHARLES JOHN ANDERSSON. 1 vol 
 royal 8vo., with Map and upwards of 50 Illustrations, representing Sport- 
 ing Adventures, Subjects of Natural History, &c. Second Edition, 30s. 
 
 "This narrative of African explorations and discoveries is one of the most important 
 geographical works that have lately appeared. It contains the acconnt of two journeys 
 made between the years 1850 and 1854, in the first of which the countries of the Damaras 
 and the Ovambo, previously scarcely known in Europe, were explored; and in the second 
 the newly-discovered Lake Ngami was reached by a route that had been deemed imprae- 
 ticable, but which proves to be the shortest and the best. The work contains much scientific 
 and accurate information as to the geology, the scenery, products, and resources of the 
 regions explored, with notices of the religion, manners, and customs of the native tribes. 
 The continual sporting adventures, and other remarkable occurrences, intermingled with 
 the narrative of travel, make the book as interesting to read as a romance, as, indeed, a 
 good book of travels ought always to be. The illustrations by Wolf are admirably designed, 
 and most of them represent scenes as striking as any witnessed by Jules Gerard or Gordon 
 Gumming." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 THE OXONIAN IN THELEMARKEN; OR, NOTES 
 
 OF Travel in South-Western Norway, with Glances at the 
 
 Legendary Lore of that District. By the Rev. F. METCALFE 
 
 M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College. 2 vols, with illustrations, 21s. 
 
 "This new book is as lively as ils predecessor, its matter is as good, or better. Th<» 
 Intermixture of legends and traditions wiih the notes of travel adds to the real value of the 
 work« and strengthens its claim on a public that desires to be amused." — Examiner. 
 
 THE OXONIAN IN NORWAY; OR, NOTES OF 
 
 Excursions in that Country. By the Rev. F. METCALFE, M.A., 
 Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford. New and Cheaper Edition, revised, 
 
 1 vol. post 8vo., with Map and additional Illustrations, 10s. 6d. bound. 
 
 "Mr. Metcalfe's book is as full of facts and interesting information as it can hold, and 
 Is interlarded with racy anecdotes. Some of these are highly original and entertaining. 
 More than this, it is a truly valuable work, containing a fund of information on the statistics, 
 politico, and religion of the countries visited." — Blackwood's Magazine. 
 
 SIX YEARS IN RUSSIA. BY AN ENGLISH LADY. 
 
 2 vols, post 8vo. with Illustrations. 21s. bound. 
 
 " The extracts we have made will afford some i'iea of the variety contained in these 
 volumes, and the interesting and amusing nature of their contents. There is, in addition, a 
 considerable amount of information connected with tlie social and political institutions of 
 Russia, the religion and cliaracter of the people, and of tlie prospects of this great country 
 when the present enlightened Czar shall have completed his great work of freedom for the 
 serfs. On these, and on every other subject touched upon, the author is entitled to be 
 heard with respect." — Atheneeum. 
 
 " This book is minute, various, and admirably graphic. Scarcely any conceivable phase 
 of Russian life escapes the author's observant glance, and what she sees so clearly she 
 d*scribes faithfully. We cannot imagine a more amusing book to be read to a family of an 
 evening. It deals with subjects, incidents, and events of the most interesting kind. It 
 describes strange manners and habits of life, and depicts curinus scenery with wonderful 
 felicity. The attentive reader of this book will, we venture to say, rise from its perusal with 
 a more complete idea of Russia in its physical, moral, and social aspects than he can derive 
 from any other work of equal bulk in our \a.n^9.gt."— Illustrated News of the World.
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. ] 1 
 
 THE JEWS IN THE EAST. BY THE REV. P. 
 
 BEATON, M.A. From the German of Dr. Frankl. 2 vols. 21&. 
 
 " Those persons who are curious in matters connected with JiTUsalem and its inhabit- 
 ants, are strongly recommended to read this work, which contains more information than is 
 to be found in a dozen of the usual books of travel." — Times. 
 
 "This book will richly reward perusal. We cordially recommend the narrative for 
 soilld information given from an unusual point of view, for power of description, for 
 incident, and for details of manners, domestic habits, traditions, SiC.,"—Glof/e. 
 
 "A very interesting work, one of the most original books of modern travel, that we 
 have encountered for a long time." — John Dull. 
 
 A SUMMER AND WINTER IN THE TWO SICILIES. 
 
 By JULIA KAVANAGH, Author of '* Nathalie," " Adele," &c. 2 voh. 
 post 8vo. with illustrations, 2 Is. bound. 
 
 •* Miss Kavanagh is a woman of genius and imagination. She has a graceful and 
 brilliant pen, much observation of character, and a keen eye for the aspects of nature. Her 
 volumes contain much that i« new. 1 hey are among the pleasantest volumes of travel vre 
 have lately met with, and we can cordially recommend them. Readers will find in these 
 volumes the glow and colour of Italian skies, the rich and passionate beauty of Italian 
 scenery, and the fresh simplicity of Southern life touched by the hand of an artist, aua 
 described by the perceptions of a warm-hearted and sympathizing woman." — The Prsss. 
 
 CHOW-CHOW; BEING SELECTIONS FROM A JOUR- 
 NAL KEPT IN INDIA, &c. By the VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND. 
 New and Revised Edition, 2 vols. 8vo., with Illustrations. 
 
 "Lady Falkland's work may be read with interest and pleasure, and the reader will rtee 
 from the perusal instructed as well as amused." — AtheruEum. 
 
 A PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF THE DISCOVERY 
 
 OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE with Numerous Incidents of Travel 
 and Adventure during nearly Five Years' Continuous Service in the Arctic 
 Regions while in Search of the Expedition under Sir John Franklin. Bv 
 ALEX. ARMSTRONG, M.D., R.N., late Surgeon and Naturalist of H.M.S. 
 * Investigator.' 1 vol. With Map and Plate, IGs. 
 
 •'This book is sure to take a prominent position in every library in which works of 
 discovery and adventure are to be met ■w'Mh.."— Daily News. 
 
 THE WANDERER IN ARABIA. BY G. T. LOWTH, 
 
 Esa. 2 vols, post 8vo. with Illustrations. 
 "Mr. Lowth has shown himself in these volumes to be an intelligeut traveller^ a beeu 
 otieerver of nature, and an accomplished artist."— Po*!. 
 
 SPORTING ADVENTURES IN THE NEW WORLD ; 
 
 OR, DAYS AND NIGHTS OF MOOSE HUNTING IN THE PINE 
 FORESTS OF ACADIA. By CAMPBELL HARDY, Royal Artillery. 
 2 vols, post 8vo. with illustrations. 
 
 •*A spirited record of sporting adventures, very entertaining and well worthy the atten- 
 tlooofall sportsmen who desire some fresher field than Europe can afford them."— frwa. 
 
 A PILGRIMAGE INTO DAUPHINE; WITH A VISIT 
 
 TO THE Monastery of the Gr.\nde Ch.^rtrecse, and Anecdote*, 
 Incidents, and Sketches from Twenty Departments op Frasjce. 
 Bv the REV. G. M. MUSGRAVE, A.M. 2 vols, with Illustrations.
 
 12 HURST AND BLAClCETr's NEW PLTBLICATIONS. 
 
 FAMILY ROMANCE; OH, DOMESTIC ANNALS OF 
 
 THE ARISTOCRACY. BY SIR BERNARD BURKE, Ulster Kino of 
 Arms. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 AnioTig the many other interesting legends and romantic family histories com- 
 prised in these volumes, will be found the following; — The wonderful narrative 
 of Maria Stella, Lady Newborough, who claimed on such strong evidence to be 
 a Princess of the House of Orleans, and disputed the identity of Louis Philippe— 
 The story of the humble marriage of the beautiful Countess of Strathmore, and 
 the sufferings and fate of her only child — The Leaders of Fashion, from Gramont 
 to D'Orsay — The rise of the celebrated Baron Ward, now Prime Minister at 
 Parma — The curious claim to the Earldom of Crawford — The Strange Vicissitudes 
 of our Great Families, replete with the most romantic details — The story of the 
 Kirkpatricks of Closeburn (the ancestors of the French Empress), and the re- 
 markable tradition associated with them — The Legend of the Lambtons — The 
 veritication in our own time of the famous prediction as to the Earls of Mar — 
 Lady Ogilvy's escape — The Beresford and Wynyard ghost stories, &c. 
 
 •It were impossible to praise too highly as a work of amusement these two most in. 
 teresting volumes, whether we should have regard to its excellent plan or its not less ex. 
 eellent execution. The volumes are just what ought to be found on every drawing-room table. 
 Here you have nearly fifty captivating romances with the pith of all their interest preserved 
 in undiminished poignancy, and any one may be read in half an hour. It is not the least of 
 their merits that the romances are founded on fact — or what, at least, has been handed down 
 far truth by long tradition — and the romance of reality far exceeds the romance of fiction. 
 Each story is told in the clear, unaflfected style with which the author's former works 
 have made the public familiar."— SfaTwZoj-ci. 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE FORUM; OR, NARRA- 
 TIVES, SCENES, AND ANECDOTES FROM COURTS OF JUSTICE. 
 SECOND SERIES. BY PETER BURKE, Esa., of the Inner Temple, 
 Barrister-at-Law. 2 vols, post 8vo. 21s. 
 
 PRINCIPAL CONTENTS :— Lord Crichton's Revenge— The Great Douglao 
 Cause— Lord and Lady Kinnaird — Marie Delorme and Her Husband — The 
 Spectral Treasure— Murders in Inns of Court — Matthieson the Forger — Trials 
 that estabUshed the Illegality of Slavery— The Lover Highwayman— The 
 Accusing Spirit— The Attorney-General of the Reign of Terror— Eccentric 
 Occurrences in the Law— Adventuresses of Pretended Rank — The Courier of 
 Lyons— General Sarrazin's Bigamy — The Elstree Murder — Count Bocarme and 
 his wife — Professor Webster, Sec. 
 
 •*The favour with which the first series of this publication was received, has induced 
 Mr. Surke to extend his researches, which he has done with great judgment. The incidents 
 forming the subject of the second series are as extraordinary in every respect, as those which 
 Obtained so high a meed of celebrity for the first. Some of the tales could scarcely be believed 
 to be founded in fact, or to be records of events that have startled the world, were there not 
 the incontestable evidence which Mr. Burke has established to prove that they have 
 aetuaily happened."— J/essewg^er. 
 
 SONGS OF THE CAVALIERS AND ROUNDHEADS, 
 
 JACOBITE BALLADS, &c. By G. W. THORNBURY. 1 vol. with 
 numerous Illustrations by H. S. Marks. Elegantly bound. 
 
 "Mr. Thornbury has produced a volume of sones and ballads worthy to rank wHh 
 Bfticaulay's or Aytoun's Lays."— Chronicle. "Those who love picture, life, and costume 
 in son^ will here find what they [ove."—Alhena:um.
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT's NEW PUBLICATIONS. 13 
 
 A LIFE FOR A LIFE. BY THE AUTHOE OF 
 
 ** John Halifax Gentleman," &c., 3 vols. 
 
 A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. BY 
 
 the Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." 5s. elegantly bound and 
 illustrated, forming Vol. 5 of Hurkt and Blackett's Standard Librart. 
 
 •* A book of sound counsel. Tt is one of the most sensible works of its kind, well wrtlteri 
 troe hearted, and altogether practical." — Examiner. 
 
 " This excellent book is characterised by good sense, good taste, end feeling, and is 
 wriftenin an earnest, philanthropic, as well as practical spirit" — Post. 
 
 "A very excellent and thoughtful work by a writer who has attained a high decree of 
 celebrity, oifering to her own sex reflections and suggestions on subjects of the greatest 
 importance " — Sun. 
 
 "The ainhor of 'John Halifax* will retain and extend her hold upon the readlryg and 
 reasonable public by the merits of this work which bears the stamp of good sense and 
 genial feeling. The basis of the book is truth, but truth spoken in a kindly spirit and in 
 the hope of mitigating some admitted evils.*- — Guardian, 
 
 REALITIES OF PAEIS LIFE. BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 or « FLEMISH INTERIORS," &c. 3 vols, with Illustrations. 31s. 6d. 
 
 NOVELS AND NOVELISTS, FROM ELIZABETH TO 
 
 VICTORIA. By J. C. JEAFFRESON, Esa. 2 vols, with Portraits. 2is. 
 
 " Mr. Jealfresnn has here given to the public a goodly collection of the novelists of this 
 country, with sketches of their lives and a history of all they wrote ^ind said tliat was worth 
 remembering. The volumes contain a fund of information which cannot fail to be as 
 pleasing as valuable to all lovers of literature." — Post. 
 
 THE RIDES AND REVERIES OF MR. SSOP SMITH. 
 
 By MARTIN F. TUPPER, D.C.L., F.R.S., Author of "Proverbial Philo- 
 sophy," " Stephen Langton," &c., 1 vol. post 8vo. 
 "This work will do good service to Mr. Tupper's literary reputation. It combines, 
 with lucidity and acuteness of judgment, freshness of fancy and elegance of sentiment. In 
 its cheerful and instructive pages sound moral principles are forcibly inculcated, and every- 
 day truths acquire an airof novelty, and are rendered peculiarly attractive by being expressed 
 in that epigrammatic language which so largely contributed to the populEirity of the author's 
 former work, entitled ' Proverbial Philosophy.*" — Morning Post. 
 
 WINTER EVENINGS. BY LEITCH RITCHIE. 
 
 2 vols, post 8vo. with Illustrations. 21s. bound. 
 "'Winter Evenings' is the work of an accomplished and skilful writer, and contains 
 the ripe fruits of many years study and observation. No library should be without it." — 
 Illustrated News of the World. 
 
 A MOTHER'S TRIAL. BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 " The Discipline op Life," " The Two Brothers," &c. 1 vol. 
 with Illustrations, by Birket Foster. 7s. 6fl. bound. 
 »" A Mother's Trial,' by Lady Emily Ponsonby, is a work we can recommend. It 
 tceatbes purity and refinement in every page."— Leo^/er. 
 
 PEN AND PENCIL PICTURES. BY THOMAS HOOD- 
 
 Second Edition. 1 vol. with Illustrations, by the Author. 
 " We are hanpy to find that the delightful volume, ' Pen and Pencil Picture*** bns 
 readied a second «Jditioii. and that the reception of the younger Thomas Hood, by tuc 
 public, has been worthy of the name he bears."— Li/erary Gazette.
 
 14 
 
 WORKS OF FICTION. 
 
 MIRIAM COPLEY. 
 
 By J. C. Jeaffreson. 
 Autlior of "Novels and Novelists." 
 •• Mr. Jeaffreson has already made his 
 refnitation, and this last cle%'er produc- 
 tion cannot fail to add to it."— Jo/m Bull. 
 
 THE LEES OF BLENDON 
 HALL. 
 
 By the Author of " A lick Wentworth,** 
 3 vols. 
 
 NEWTON DOGVANE. 
 
 A Story of Euelish Life. 
 
 By Francis Francis. 
 
 With Llnstrations by Leech. 3 vols. 
 
 " A capital sporting: novel. It is emi- 
 nenfly readable, and bids fair to become 
 one of the most popular novels of its highly 
 popular c\ass''— Chronicle. 
 
 THROUGH THE SHADOWS. 
 
 B^ the Author of " Sidney Orev." 3 v. 
 "An excellent and very interesting no- 
 vei. The author has a high standard of 
 life and thougbt. The tale is beautifully 
 told.** — A thencE-um. 
 
 HELEN LINDSAY; 
 
 Or. The Trial of Faith. 
 B7 A GtJiRGViMAN's Daughter. 2 vols. 
 
 WOODLEIGH. 
 
 By tlie Author of " Wildflower," 
 "One and Twenty," &c. 3 vols. 
 
 "The book has sterling merit. It is 
 lik^y to sustain and extend an already 
 hj^h reputation." — Press. 
 
 A GOOD TIME COMING. 
 
 By the Author of " Mathkw Paxton." 
 "We shall be greatly surprised if A 
 Good Time Coming' does not become a 
 v^Y popular book." — Chronicle, 
 
 EVERY DAY. 
 
 By Mrs. Forster Langton. 3 vols. 
 
 " A novel which will charm many 
 readers." — Observer. 
 
 LIFE'S FORESHADOWINGS. 
 
 By W. G. Wills Esq. 3 v. 
 
 ONWARDS. 
 
 By the Author of" Anne Dysart.** &c. 3 v. 
 
 "A really delightful book." — Globe. 
 " Such a novel is calculated to do 
 nraoh good." — Daily News. 
 
 FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 
 
 By the Author of "Maroarkt; or, Prb- 
 JVDiCE AT Home." 3 vols. 
 
 STEPHAN LANGTON. 
 
 By Martin. F. Tupper. D.C.L. F.R.S. 
 
 Author of " Proverbial Philosopby." 
 
 &c., 2 vols, with fine engravings. 
 
 "These volumes are pre-eminently qua- 
 lified to attract attention both from their 
 peculiar style and their great ability. The 
 author has long been celebrated for his 
 attainments in literary creation, but the 
 present work is incomparably superior to 
 anything he has hitherto produced.— Swn 
 
 FEMALE INFLUENCE. 
 
 By Lady Charlotte Pepys, 2 vols. 
 
 CREEDS. 
 
 By the Author of " The MoaAM of 
 May Fair." 3 vols. 
 " This is a novel of strong dramatic 
 situation, powerful plot, alluring and con- 
 tinuous interest, admirably defined 
 characters, and much excellent remark 
 upon human motives and social positions." 
 — Literary Gazette. 
 
 OCEOLA. 
 
 By Captain Mayve Reid, 
 3 vols, with Illustrations by Weir. 
 " Capt. Reid is a sort of Walter Seott 
 of the West, ' Oceola' is full of soul-stir- 
 ring interest."— Li7emr^ Gazette. 
 
 RIGHT OR WRONG. 
 
 By Miss Jewsbury. 2 v. 
 " This story is very interesting and 
 fresh. Once taken up it will not be laid 
 down." — Athenceum. 
 
 The MASTER of the HOUNDS 
 
 By Scrutator. 
 
 Dedicated to the Earl of Stamford. 3 v. 
 
 with Illustrations by Weir. 
 
 TRUST AND TRIAL. 
 
 By Mary Howitt. 
 From the Danish. I v. with Illustrations, 
 "A delightful episode from Norse life, 
 written with all that charming simplicity 
 which distinguishes all Mrs. Howitt's 
 productions." — Post. 
 
 FAULTS ON BOTH SIDES. 
 
 By Mrs. Thomson, 3 vols. 
 
 THE REIGNING BEAUTY. 
 
 By Lady Chatterton, 3 vols. 
 
 FRAMLEIGH HALL. 
 
 3 vols. 
 " An excellent i\oy%\."—Athenamm.
 
 WORKS OF FICTION. 
 
 15 
 
 ADELE. 
 
 By Julia Kavavaoh, 
 Author of "Nathalie," &c. 3 vols. 
 •• A charming novel. The best work 
 we have read by Miss Kavanagh." — 
 AtliencBrim. 
 
 THE TWO BROTHERS. 
 
 By the Author of "The Discipline of 
 LiFK," &c. 3 vols. 
 '• An interesting and agreeable novel, 
 well worthy the pen of Lady Emily 
 Poiisouby."— Pos^. 
 
 HECKINGTON. 
 
 By Mrs. Gore. 3 vols. 
 '■ A valuable prize to readers in 
 search of a clever novel." — Athenceum. 
 
 THE LADY OF GLYNNE. 
 
 By the Author of " Margaret and Her 
 Bridesmaids." 3 vols. 
 "There is a great deal that is both ex- 
 cellent and charming in this book." — 
 Atkenceum 
 
 THE POOR RELATION. 
 
 By Miss Pardoe. 3 vols. 
 ** The very best novel Miss Pardoe has 
 wri tten . ' ' — Messenger. 
 
 ONE AND TWENTY. 
 
 By the Author of* Wildflower," &c.3v 
 " It is long since we have met with so 
 original a tale, or one so true to nature — 
 J aim Bull. 
 
 NOTHING NEW. 
 
 y the .\uthor of" John Halifax, 
 
 Gkntle.man." 2 .vols. 
 "T'.vo volumes displaying all those 
 perior merits which have made 'Johr 
 Halifax" one of the most popular works ol 
 I the d^y."— Post. 
 
 " We cordially recommend these 
 volumes. The same graphic power, deep 
 pathos, healthful sentiment, and mas- 
 terly execution, which place that beau- 
 tiful work, 'John Halifax,' among the 
 English Classics are everywhere dis 
 played." — Chronicle. 
 
 THE THREE PATHS. 
 
 By Herbert Grky. M.A. 2 vols. 
 "This book indicates thought, ability, 
 and spirit.''— Spectator. 
 
 MORALS OF MAYFAIR. 
 
 Skconi) Edition. 3 vols. 
 "A very capital novel. There is a 
 thorough knowledge of society, with con- 
 siderable cleverness in depicting it."— 
 
 Spectator. 
 
 RUMOUR. 
 
 By the Author ot "Charles Auches- 
 
 TER." Inscribed to the Marchioness of 
 
 Hastings. 3 vols. 
 
 THE SaUIRE OF 
 BEECHWOOD. 
 
 By " Scrutator." 3 vols. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF MARGARET MAITLA^'D. 
 
 TRE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 3 vols. 
 " We doubt whether ' Margaret 
 Maitland,' or ' Lilliesleaf,' or the ' Days 
 of my Life,' possess in themselves the 
 elements of a more lasting reputation 
 than this absorbing tale of 'The Laird of 
 Norlaw.' The interest In the narrative 
 in equally as well sustained as in ' Mar- 
 garet Maitland,' and to those who have 
 read the latter work this will be con- 
 sidered no mean commendation. A 
 perusal of the * Laird of Norlaw' will 
 alone enable the reader to judge of the 
 ability which is displayed in describing 
 the various scenes and events which give 
 form and substance to the work. The 
 characters are drawn with a vigorous 
 haiid, and the descriptive parts of the 
 work are written with great power.'' 
 — Chronicle 
 
 THE DAYS OF MY LIFE. 
 
 .A.V AUTOmoGRAPHY. 3 VOls. 
 
 " The author writes with her usual fine 
 ca^>acity for the picturesque, and her in- 
 variable good sense, good feeling, and 
 good taste. No part of the narrative is 
 uninteresting." — Athenceum. 
 
 ORPHANS. 
 
 1 vol. 10s. 6d, 
 
 "An exquisitely beautiful story— a book 
 that no woman will read without feeling 
 ner heart warm to the author."— A'a^ow.// 
 Magazine. 
 
 •• The author of 'Orphans' is one of the 
 ablest writers of fiction in the present 
 day. and beyond this, and far better, is 
 one of those who always seek to inculcate 
 religious impression and moral action by 
 all "her literary efforts. This excellent 
 purpose pervades every page of this in- 
 teresting tiile."— Messenger. 
 
 LILLIESLEAF. 
 
 Being the Concluding Skries of 
 "Passages in the Like of Mrs. Mar- 
 garet Maitland." 
 Cheaper Edition. 1 vol. 6s. 
 "The concluding series of passages in 
 the * Lite of Mrs. Margaret Maitland" is, 
 to our thinking, superior to the begin- 
 ning ; and this we take to be about the 
 most satisfactory compliment we can pay 
 the authoress. There is a vein of simple 
 •rood sense and pious feeling running 
 throughout, for which no reader can fall 
 to be the bttt^T."—Athen<turn.
 
 NOW IN COURSB OF PUBLICATION. 
 
 HUEST AND BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBBARY 
 
 OF CHEAP EDITIONS OF 
 
 POPULAR MODERN WORKS. 
 
 Each in a single volume, elegantly printed, bound, and ilustrated, price 59. 
 A volume to appear every two months. The following are now ready. 
 
 SAM SLICK'S NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY LEECH. 
 
 " Messrs. Hurst and Blackett have very fitly inaugurated their Standard Lthrary of 
 Pop^llar i\Iodern Works with this admirable volume by our old friend the Clockmaker. With 
 rt-pard to this we can truly say: — Who can tire of the genuine sallies, the deep wisdom 
 wrapped up in merry guise, and the side-splitting outbursts of genuine wit, in the p»ov« 
 of Haliburton? ' Nature and Human Nature ' is particularly full of all these qualities; 
 and to those who love a good laugh, when they can enjoy it accompanied by good matter 
 for reflection, and who have not yet read this production of Sam Slick, we can heatlUy 
 recommend this elegant, well-printed edition of it." — Critic. 
 
 "The first volume of Messrs. Hurst and Blackett's Standard Library of Cheap EfHtions 
 of Popular Modern Works forms a very good beginning to what wiil doubtless be a very 
 successful undertaking. ' Nature and Human Nature' is one of the best of Sam Slvcli's 
 witty and humorous productions, and well entitled to the large circulation which it 
 cannot fail to obtain in its present convenient and cheap shape. The volume combines 
 with the great recommendations of a clear, bold type, and good paper, the lessee, but 
 still attractive merits, of being well illustrated and elegantly bound." — Morning Post. 
 
 "This new and cheap edition of Sam Slick's popular work will be an acquisition to 
 all lovers of wit and humour. Mr. Justice Haliburton's writings are so well known to 
 the English public that no commendation is needed. The volume is very handsomely 
 Iwund and illustrated, and the paper and type are excellent. It is in every way suited 
 f^yr a library edition, and as the names of Messrs. Hurst and Blackett, warrant the 
 character of the works to be produced in their Standard Library, we have no doubt the 
 project will be eminently successful." — Sun. 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. 
 
 "This is a very good and a very interesting work. It is designed to trace the earee<r 
 from boyhood to age of a perfect man— a Christian gentleman, and it abounds in incident 
 both well and highly wrought. Throughout it is conceived in a high spirit, and written 
 with great ability, bftter than any former work, we think, of its deservedly successful 
 author. This cheap and handsome new edition is worthy to pass freely from hand to band, 
 as a gift hook in many households." — E.ruminer. 
 
 "The new and cheaper edition of this interestiner work will doubtless meet with .great 
 success. John Halifax, the hero of this most beautiful story, is no ordinary hero, and this 
 his history is no ordinary book. It is a full-length poitrait of a true gentleman, one of 
 nature's own nobility. It is also the history of a home and a thoroughly English one. 
 The work abounds in incident, and many of the scenes are full of graphic power and true 
 pathos. It is a book that few will read without becominsr wiser and better." — Scotsman. 
 
 THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS. 
 
 BY ELIOT WARBURTON. 
 
 "Independent of its value as an original narrative, and its useful and intereeting 
 jutormation, this work is remarkable for the colouring power and play of fancy with 
 which its descriptions are enlivened. Among its greatest and most lasting charms is its 
 reverent and serious spirit." — Quarterly Review 
 
 NATHALIE. BY JULIA KAVANAGH. 
 
 "'Nathalie ' is Miss Kavanagh's best imaginative effort. Its manner is grarfous and 
 attractive. Its matter is good. A sentiment, a tenderness, are commanded by her which 
 are as individual as they are elegant. We should not soon come to an end were we to 
 specify all the delicate touches and attractive pictures which place 'Nathalie* high among 
 books of its class."— AthencEum. 
 
 A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN." 
 
 "-A book of sf)und counsel. It is one of the most sensible works of its kind, well 
 written, irue hearted, and altogether practical." — Examiner.
 
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