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 BELOW THE SURFACE,
 
 [The Right of Translation if Reserved.
 
 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 % ^toT2 of ^nglislf Counirg $if€. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SMITH, ELDER, AXD CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 1857.
 
 «X3 
 
 ^'1 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 < 
 
 < It is attempted in the following story to describe 
 
 5 amongst other matters various features of provincial 
 Jjlife in England As a general rule, and especially 
 in the case of Lunatic Asylums and Workhouses, I 
 do not refer to particular places or persons. I merely 
 present to the reader types or samples of badly- 
 conducted establishments. But the abuses there pre- 
 % valent will frequently be found, though of course 
 in a mitigated form, in those of a higher stamp and 
 character. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 4
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME L 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Page 
 THE MANOR-HOUSE FARM ----- 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 PLANS AND PROSPECTS - - > - » I9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE TWO PRISONERS ----- 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE - - - - - 70 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 SIR ELIOT PRICHARD ----- 98 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE RIVALS _--.__ X16 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 NUGENT IN THE CONFESSIONAL - - - _ 140 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE TEOMANRY AT RENTWORTH - - - - 160 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF A RAILWAY DIRECTOR - - 186 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE RIOTERS CROSS THE MOOR - - - - 221 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE - - - - - 244
 
 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE MANOR-HOUSE FAEM:. 
 
 The Manor Farm was situated in a broad spacious 
 valley winding between two lofty ranges of hill which ran 
 nearly due east and west. As the eye followed their 
 undulating sweep, and the abruptness with which they 
 seemed to slope suddenly upwards from the level plain 
 below, you could easily believe the popular tradition, that 
 a wide and noble river, or even an arm of the sea, had 
 once upon a time ebbed and flowed along that valley, 
 now rich with green pastures and waving corn, and 
 stately rows of elms ; and had washed the base of those 
 hills, jutting out into rocky promontories, sparely in- 
 terspersed with ancient oaks, or receding into sheltered 
 ravines, where larch and birch mixed their tender green 
 with the foliage of the Scotch fir, almost black by contrast- 
 Broad downs of close sweet herbage, on which sheep were 
 feeding, rose above the woods and plantations which 
 clothed the sides of these hills; and, as you followed tho 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 varying outlines of either side of the valley, now reced- 
 ing now advancing, you perceived the furthest vista 
 shrouded miles away in a kind of purple haze, where 
 the eye lost itself in uncertain conjecture. 
 
 A road which seemed tolerably frequented, wound 
 along the valley, following pretty closely the outer edge 
 of the first slope of hills on the southern side. It 
 was occasionally lined by trim gardens, orchards whose 
 thick-blossomed foliage, seen afar off, looked a cloud of 
 delicate white smoke hanging stationary upon the green 
 plains, and thatched cottages bmied in roses and jessa- 
 mine. Lower down in the vaUey, the grass and grow- 
 ing crops wore a ranker and more luxuriant aspect ; 
 whilst occasional alder beds, and clumps of poplar, bore 
 witness to the more humid character of the soil. 
 
 Now, out of this main road, at the entrance of a broad 
 but not deeply-indented ravine, there ran a lane which 
 nscended the hill northwards, and was soon lost in over- 
 hanging trees of large growth. 
 
 Down one side of this lane flowed a brawling little 
 transparent stream ; but on the other was an ancient 
 boundary wall, which might have enclosed a garden 
 or park of some country-house or family mansion* 
 On descending the lane into the valley, this wall, 
 jis you joined the road below, ended in a large grove of 
 trees ; and, if you turned to the right along the main 
 road, you would find beyond this grove, a spacious 
 piece of pasture studded with clumps of trees, which
 
 THE MANOR-HOUSE FARM. 3 
 
 sloped upwards for awhile towards the crest of the 
 hill, but was soon lost in coppice and plantations. 
 
 This wide field was intersected by an avenue of noble 
 elms, which commenced, indeed, half a mile off, in the 
 marshy lands on the other side of the road ; and, re- 
 commencinoj again on the side we are describing, con- 
 tinued to cross the field until it blended with scattered 
 elms at the foot of the hill. Apparently this had once 
 led to some important mansion, situate in a park which 
 had been since intersected by the main road. Ko such 
 mansion was now, however, to be seen, although the 
 avenue was one which many a man of wealth would 
 have gladly given thousands to transplant bodily to his 
 new-made park, fringed with juvenile plantations, and 
 timid little pine-trees, fresh from the nearest nursery 
 gardens, shivering inside their palisaded fences. There 
 was no mansion, then, at the extreme end of this avenue. 
 A narrow carriage drive entered the field between the 
 rows of elms, but soon branched offj inclining away in 
 another direction until it conducted you to a fence of 
 iron hurdles, which protected from intruding cattle a 
 tolerably well-kept lawn and garden, where stood, close 
 under the hill, with a background of elms, a long, low, 
 old-fashioned, but not ancient, domicile, wath latticed 
 windows glittering in the sun, and a honeysuckled porch. 
 It was a good-sized house enough, but evidently of more 
 modern date than the grand old avenue which stretched 
 across the park-like grounds in an oblique direction. If
 
 •^ BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 you went round the back of this house, and crossed 
 a well-stocked kitchen garden, you would come to a scene 
 which, by contrast, was to the tranquil and beautiful 
 landscape we have been just regarding, one of excitement 
 and bustle. For here you found, first, the roofs of huge 
 bams partially visible, the gable ends of various buildings, 
 the tawny thatch of wheat-mows and hay-stacks ; then 
 as you looked through a gateway, whose massive quoins 
 denoted an earlier date than the house itself, leading into 
 the stack-yards, you heard the loud lowing of oxen, the 
 indignant grunting of pigs, the clamour of ducks and 
 poultry, the occasional shouts of men, and the deep 
 humming and throbbing of a steam-engine, thrashing 
 corn. 
 
 To return, however, to the front of the house. Walk- 
 ing up and down the lawn in a quiet reflective manner, 
 might be seen a man, clad plainly enough in a shooting- 
 coat, trousers of coarse material, and low-crowned hat. 
 He was young, rather tall then otherwise, and apparently 
 of well-knit and active frame. Hitherto the reader 
 might suppose him to be simply a tenant-farmer, renting 
 land, and cultivating it in order to gain a living. On 
 regarding him more narrowly, you saw, however, that 
 there was something superior in his manner and bearing. 
 He carried himself well ; his head was erect ; there was 
 a general ease and self-possession in his gestures. More- 
 over, as he turned and you saw his face, you immediately 
 recognised the thoughtful expression of one whose in-
 
 THE :manok-house farm. 5 
 
 tellect has not merely been trained, but duly used and ex- 
 ercised. His features were somewhat strongly marked ; 
 the nose aquiline, the chin, if anything, slightly pro- 
 minent ; but there was a calm, almost sad expression 
 in his dark grey eyes, and a dehcacy about the curve of 
 his Hp, which softened the severity of his countenance, 
 and impUed that his disposition, though possibly inclined 
 to be methodical and exacting, was nevertheless affec- 
 tionate and trustful. 
 
 Sometimes he stopped in his walk, and watched the 
 sun shining over the western extremity of the valley, 
 and descending slowly amitlst long thin bars of glitter- 
 ing cloud, as down a gorgeous ladder. Sometimes he 
 turned his head in the direction of the faimstead, and 
 listened with apparent pleasure to the hum of the steam- 
 engine mingling with the distant music of a blacksmith's 
 forge ; whilst, in the wood close at hand, a thrush poured 
 forth its torrent of joyful, fearless, reckless melody. 
 Then he marked the white smoke of the engine rising 
 above the tree-tops behind the house, and streaming 
 away until it was lost in the purple hills beyond ; and, 
 as he did so, he suddenly put his hand to his brow and 
 resumed his walk at a quicker pace. 
 
 " Yes," he said to himself; " our Hfe fades away like a 
 vapoiu- — hke that wreath of smoke which is wafted over 
 the hills ; and yet I muse and fret over the petty trials of 
 the world, as if I were for ever tied to this plot ot 
 ground, and had no other position to look forward to —
 
 6 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 no other inheritance to labour for but that I now see 
 round me." 
 
 He took a few more turns, then added — 
 "These people, these new-comers, the Usherwoods, 
 shrink from me ; strive to keep me at a distance ; almost 
 insult me by their frigid condescension. They seem to 
 fear my intentions might become too pressing. As if 
 I was not the last man to force myself into society 
 where I am not welcome ! Lady Maud regards me 
 with an eye of pity, and repulses me as if it tore her 
 heart to do so. The young ladies are mute in my pres- 
 ence. Gertrude is as cold as marble." Pie paused: 
 "Why do I call her Gertrude? I scarcely know 
 her, yet my w4iole spirit leaped up when w^e first met, 
 as if there was some secret link between us. How fool- 
 ish a man is," he continued, in a more matter-of-fact 
 tone — "when his heart is a little smitten! I believe, 
 if it had not been for Miss TJsherwood, I should never 
 have gone near the house after first calling there. But 
 she, IVIiss Usherwood — it's so long, the name, I must 
 call her Gertrude — Gertrude so took my fancy, that I 
 have actually called twice. It's not love ; no, nothing 
 of the kind ; it's a foolish, abstract sort of admiration 
 for what is beautiful. I must guard against it, I must 
 indeed." And he crumpled up a rosebud he had just 
 plucked, with an expression as if he had settled that 
 matter at once, and for ever. " I shall not go near the 
 house again, unless invited."
 
 THE :MA2^0E-H0USE FARM. 7 
 
 At that moment the loud baying of dogs from the 
 adjacent stables and farm-yard rising above the milder 
 uproar usual in those quarters, shewed that strangers 
 were approaching the premises. 
 
 The rumble of wheels next reached the ear, and 
 presently a fashionable landau was seen rolling along 
 the carriage drive, until it came to a full stop at the low 
 iron gate leading into the lawn. A powdered footman 
 blazing with lace, sprang down, and gracefully tripped 
 to open the gate, but was anticipated by our iriend, who 
 held it open whilst the coachman drove through at a 
 foot's pace, and pidled up in front of the house, looking 
 seriously mortified at being compelled, by the contracted 
 size of the lawn, to bring up his cattle at a funeral w^alk 
 instead of an animated trot. 
 
 Within the carriage reclined an elderly gentleman 
 and a lady apparently his wife, who had still a very 
 good share of freshness and bloom in her countenance. 
 She had once evidently been a very pretty creature, and 
 though now rather large and matronly, presented, of 
 an evening especially, a decidedly winning appearance. 
 She was fair, with clear-cut, regTilar features; a dimpled 
 chin; hair of a rich brown, which once had reached her 
 waist, and even now retained a respectable degree of 
 luxuriance. The principal charm of her face, however, 
 was her eyes of soft blue, generally dreamy, absent, and 
 vague in their expression, but ever and anon lighting 
 up with a brilliancy which seemed to pierce you, gently
 
 8' BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 but irresistibly, through and through. Her companion 
 was a less interesting individual. A stout old gentleman, 
 with swarthy complexion, dark bushy eyebrows, and an 
 eye not unintelligent, but of that character which im- 
 plies an inability to take in more than one idea at a time. 
 There was something now and then humorous in the 
 expression of his countenance, as if he did not object to 
 a joke; but he never laughed without glancing at his 
 lady as if to ask permission. Not that he was what is 
 called " henpecked ; " Lady Maud Usherwood would 
 never have condescended to any such vulgar method of 
 having her own way. He was in a state of willing sub- 
 serviency to her, and it was his joy and pride so to be. 
 We may just add that he wore an unexceptional costume, 
 for it was entirely superintended by Lady Maud. The 
 only blemish was an enormous watch chain, which pro- 
 claimed to the civilized world that he carried a watch. 
 This he had asked leave to wear with almost tears in 
 his eyes ; for it had belonged to his grandfather, and 
 this concession Lady Maud, with her usual tact, had 
 promptly accorded to him. 
 
 "Mr. Nugent!" exclaimed Lady Maud, leaning grace- 
 fully out of the carriage window— "Mr. Nugent, I am 
 shocked you should have had this trouble. Our men 
 are so slow in opening gates after a season in town " 
 
 " ^Ir. Nugent !" echoed Mr. Usherwood, "I am shocked 
 that the clumsiness of our servants, recently returned 
 from the metropohs, should have occasioned you this
 
 THE IvI.V^s'OR-HOUSE TATJ,!. 9 
 
 trouble : " and so saying, ^Ir. Uslierwood bowed until 
 his head vamshed beneath the side of the carriage. 
 
 Nuf^rent, raisins: his hat from his head with orave 
 politeness, assisted his visitors to descend. He was 
 a good deal perplexed by the unexpected honour paid 
 him, and still more by the alteration of tone and manner 
 perceptible in both his visitors, but particularly in !Mr. 
 Usherwood. 
 
 Lady Maud was rarely severe or crushing. She froze 
 you like a moonbeam, or blew you dehcately away like 
 a feather. Like that eastern potentate who, commise- 
 rating the fears of a criminal about to be put to death, 
 drew a gleaming, almost impalpable, scimitar round 
 his neck, and then soothingly requested him to shake the 
 head, which at the instant, fell severed to the ground; so 
 Lady Maud annihilated her victim with an equally 
 merciful dexterity, and it was with almost tears of grati- 
 tude that he succumbed to her tender but inevitable 
 stroke. 
 
 Nugent, therefore, welcomed them with pohteness, 
 but vvith some degi^ee of coldness and hauteur. He led 
 them into the house, and shewed them into an apart- 
 ment dimly hghted, which, in his bachelor condition, 
 was only used on state occasions. The frurdture was 
 tolerably handsome, but the curtains and cushions of 
 sombre hue, and every thing bore that aspect of excruciat- 
 ing neatness which characterises a rarely-frequented 
 room. Chau's ranged \yitb. scrupulous regularity round
 
 10 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 the table, upon which tMrteen books were placed at 
 equal distances from each other, as if thirteen individuals 
 were hourly expected to arrive, and devote themselves 
 to their perusal. A housemaid, almost in a state of 
 temporary insanity, had just before rushed into the room, 
 hearing the noise of approaching carriage-wheels, and 
 opened the shutters and windows; but the atmosphere 
 was still close and damp, in fact, we may say sepul- 
 chral. There was nothing in the books or ornaments 
 of the room to denote that the o^vner was devoted to 
 agricultural pursuits. The books were, many of them, 
 on religious subjects: there were very few pictures 
 except family portraits, done in chalk, and mildewed to 
 a degree which distressingly impaired the beauty of the 
 individuals portrayed, if beauty they ever indeed pos- 
 sessed; there were no flowers; there was no piano. 
 
 Lady Maud, who always ascertained at a glance the 
 bright side of things (where there was any bright side at 
 all), glided to the window, and began to praise the pretti- 
 ness of the view. ^ir. Usherwood stepped to another 
 window, and also praised the view, omitting to notice, until 
 he came close, that the Venetian blind was drawn down. 
 Nevertheless, it was a pretty view. A slope of well-kept 
 lawn rising upwards from the house, and ending in a 
 mass of evergreens overshadowed by fir-trees, and a few 
 large elms and walnut-trees. There W' ere some formal 
 flower-beds on the lawn; they were only furnished 
 with a confused mass of common perennial flowers, but
 
 THE MAXOR-HOUSE FAEM. 11 
 
 looked blooming and pleasant. On the right, the 
 kitchen-garden wall shut out all view of the farm- 
 buildingfs, and acrainst the outside of this wall trailed an 
 abundant growth of flowering creepers, with now and 
 then a well-trained apricot or fig-tree. 
 
 " "Would yoiu- ladyship like to step out, and give the 
 garden a nearer inspection ? "' asked Nugent. 
 
 " Of aU things ! " was the rejoinder, and throwing 
 open the window, wliich reached to the ground, they all 
 issued forth. 
 
 " This is a sweet spot ! " cried Lady Maud, gently, 
 almost timidly, takino^ Xuirent's arm. 
 
 " A veryagTeeable tenement," added the old gentleman. 
 
 " Why," said Nugent, who was a little, and but a 
 little mollified by the soft looks and words of his fair 
 companion — '' It is perhaps too pretty for a mere man 
 of business, such as I am. It was always kept up in 
 old times, and I don't Uke to let it run to waste, or to 
 grub it up." 
 
 "You term yourself a man of business," remonstrated 
 Lady Maud, " as if you bent over a desk or counter aU 
 day. Now, I consider agricidture to be one part busi- 
 ness, and three parts pleasure." 
 
 ^' A happy mixture of work and play " — put in Mr. 
 Usherwood. 
 
 "Ah!" replied Nugent, "it's a serious enough matter 
 for me. I am a regular fanner, and I am proud of the 
 name and the occupation."
 
 12 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 ^'That's right!" cried Mr. Usherwood; "speed the 
 plough, say I." And the worthy gentleman, in his 
 sudden access of enthusiasm, was about to pat Nugent 
 encouragingly on the back ; but, noticing the expression 
 of his countenance, thought better of it, and, taking 
 out his handkerchief, elaborately blew his nose. 
 
 " O, you know, Mr. Nugent," observed Lady Maud, 
 " that our object in calling here to-day, was partly to 
 ask you to show us all over your beautiful farm- 
 buildings, and let us see your cattle and machines, and 
 the wonderfid things you use in what you modestly 
 designate your ' business.' " 
 
 Nugent's countenance slightly brightened as he ex- 
 pressed his readiness to comply v/ith her request. 
 "But," he added, "if you intend to explore all my 
 workshop thoroughly, you need have some better 
 defence for your feet than those thin boots, Lady 
 Maud. And as for you, sir, you will find pumps rather 
 worse than nothing." 
 
 "Oh! we are provided with goloshes — both Mr. 
 Usherwood and myself, — if you will kindly send to the 
 carriage, they are wrapped up in a parcel in the 
 pockets." 
 
 After a few minutes spent in these preparations, the 
 party sallied forth. 
 
 They crossed the kitchen-garden and the narrow 
 drive which separated it from the farm-stead, then 
 entered the stack-yard through the ancient archway
 
 THE 31ANOR-HOUSE FARM. 13 
 
 we have already mentioned ; whence by a private door 
 they passed into another large yard, three sides of 
 which were composed of various buildings in good con- 
 dition and of massive construction, most of them like 
 the archway of seemingly very ancient date, or else built 
 with the materials of some building belonging to the 
 past. One long shed contained forty or fifty steers and 
 heifers, in a state of lively enjoyment, ranged side by 
 side, and consuming steamed hay and chaff, mixed with 
 Swede turnips reduced to pulp by a crushing machine. 
 At the moment the party entered this yard, a door at 
 the opposite side was suddenly opened, and out rushed, 
 gamboling, stumbliDg, jostling together, a score or so 
 of young calves recently weaned. Now, to the unprac- 
 tised eye of ]\Ir. Usherwood, this apparition seemed 
 nothing else than a vast herd of infm-iated oxen, or 
 viciously-disposed cows. He hastily retreated to the 
 archway whence he had just emerged, whilst even Lady 
 Maud, either from alarm, or the impulse of newly- 
 awakened friendship, pressed her arm for a moment 
 closer to Xugent's side. 
 
 "I give my young stock,"' explained Nugent, un- 
 conscious of the alarm pervading one at least of his 
 companions, " a good game of play here twice a-day. 
 They need, like all of us, a little recreation." 
 
 " The pretty creatures ! " cried Lady Maud; " I wish 
 they would come nearer." 
 
 Nugent stepped forward upon the heap of fresh
 
 14 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 straw which thickly coated the centre of the yard, and 
 the calves thronged round him impatiently, as if to 
 communicate some information of importance. 
 
 " Mind your glove, ma'am ! " shouted one of Nugent's 
 men, accompanying the caution by a thump with the 
 handle of a pick on the back of an enterprising calf, which, 
 stimulated by Lady Maud's playful attempt to stroke its 
 forehead, had begun to beslobber her delicately-gloved 
 hand with its wet, nutmeg-grater tongue. 
 
 " Oh, I enjoy it ! " — exclaimed Lady Maud; "don't 
 hurt the dear creature. I adore calves !" 
 
 Mr. Usherwood, whose intimacy with calves had been 
 maintained exclusively through the medium of veal-pie 
 and calves' foot jelly, thought it expedient now to emerge 
 from the archway, and also profess an almost idolatrous 
 fondness for those animals. Nugent, however, now led 
 them onwards to another yard, where the black steam- 
 engine was emitting a steady volume of smoke from 
 its chimney. A rustic stoker, who superintended it, 
 appeared to view its performances with pride and satis- 
 faction, and remarked to Nugent — 
 
 " He's terrible hungry, and swallows a sight of coal ! " 
 whilst a grin of satisfaction diffused itself over his 
 blackened face. Behind the engine, the threshing- 
 machine was clamorously at work, connected by a leather 
 strap with the motive power of the steam engine. Men 
 and women, half hid in a cloud of dust, which caused 
 Mr. Usherwood to sneeze, as Lady Maud afterwards
 
 THE MA^OE-HOUSE FARM. 15 
 
 assured him — " like a demon " — were busy in supplying 
 the wheat sheaves to be threshed, and otherwise regulat- 
 ing and superintending the work. 
 
 Elsewhere, under an open shed, some men were engaged 
 dissolving bones in sulphuric acid, and mixing ashes with 
 guano. Here ^Ir. Usherwood, sniflSng the air, remarked 
 that he liked the smell of guano, it was associated with 
 luxuriant crops. Lady ^laud made no remark, but 
 possibly was comparing the ammonia of the manure with 
 the ammonia of the bottle of Preston salts she was pen- 
 sively pressing to her nose. They passed on, and came 
 upon women and lads bearing pails of frothy milk, fresh 
 from the cows, in the milking barton. From an ad- 
 jacent building, oozed a savoury smoke from the fodder 
 and victuals, steaming in preparation for cattle, horses, 
 and pigs. Two teams of splendid horses, and the same 
 number of oxen, crossed slowly into an adjoining yard ; 
 the latter encouraged by not unmelodious cries from the 
 boy who drove them. A dozen or more score of South- 
 down sheep were slowly ascending the slope of a neigh- 
 bouring eminence on then- way to a piece of arable, where 
 they were to be folded during the night. These required, 
 fi'om time to time, rather pressing intimations from 
 a couple of sheep-dogs to keep moving. 
 
 The scene was animated, and not without its peculiar 
 charm. Every one was busy; order and promptitude 
 reigned throughout ; the very clamom-s which filled the 
 air possessed a certain affinity one with another; and,
 
 16 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 spreading freely and widely in that pure and unconfined 
 atmosphere, were not jarring to the ear, but blended into 
 a kind of rude harmony. 
 
 Lady Maud was just asking Nugent how he could 
 bring himself to sell the beautiful dove-coloured oxen, 
 pointed out to her in one of the sheds, for vulgar 
 butcher's meat, when a dismal groan from Mr. Usher- 
 wood burst upon their ears from an adjoining yard, and 
 that poor gentleman was speedily discovered, standing 
 up to his ankles in mud, amidst a multitude of pigs of 
 all sorts and sizes. He feared to move lest he should 
 sink deeper into the treacherous mhe, yet was sorely 
 embarrassed by his swinish companions, who, having at 
 first retreated from their unkno^vn visiter, were now be- 
 coming unpleasantly familiar, thrusting then- long snouts 
 between his legs at the imminent risk of upsetting him, 
 rubbing against his knees with grunts of satisfaction, 
 and, in short, exliibiting a hospitable and friendly feel- 
 ing, which he by no means seemed to appreciate. 
 
 " I can't move an inch ! " shouted the old gentleman; 
 " I shall be up to my neck the moment I put one foot 
 forward ! Bring a ladder, or a rope, or something ! " 
 
 Nugent rushed to the rescue, and succeeded, knowing 
 the geographical ins and outs of the mud, in steering 
 Mr. Usher wood back to terra firma^ with the loss only 
 of a golosh, which was doubtless regarded by the pigs 
 as a parting tribute of regard. The party now returned 
 to the garden, and from thence re-entered the house.
 
 THE MANOR-HOUSE FARM. 17 
 
 In tlie entrance passage, however, stood a man respect- 
 ably dressed, looking rather like an upper servant out of 
 place. He was pale and careworn, and his light-grey 
 eyes seemed restless and suspicious, but he was other- 
 wise not ill-looking. 
 
 "Well, Weston," asked Nugent, "and how's your 
 sister ? " 
 
 "Much the same, sir, thank you. I am come to 
 trouble you again for a Httle drop of wine. It is such 
 horrid stuff they sell at the ' Red Lion.' Money won't 
 get the sort of wine Lucy requires." 
 
 " Go and sit down, and you shall have some in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 "'Tis Lucy Weston, Lady Maud," he added, turning 
 to her ladyship. " One of your ladyship's servants who 
 has been so ill lately." 
 
 " Oh, Lucy !" rejoined Lady Maud, sHghtly blushing. 
 " Yes, poor thing ! I wonder my people have not sent 
 her what she wants. Will she recover ? " 
 
 " I intend to see her to-morrow at twelve, and will let 
 your ladyship know how she is." 
 
 " Will you not be in some danger ? I heard it was a 
 horrid kind of fever," asked Lady Maud. 
 
 "I am not afraid of infection, with proper precau- 
 tions," rejoined Nugent; and his visiters after warm 
 expressions of admiration for all they had seen, prepared 
 to take their departm^e. Lady Maud pressed his hand 
 gently. Mr. Usherwood gave it a confidential gripe. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 18 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 They got into their carriage, assisted by Nugent with 
 considerably more empressement than he had evinced in 
 helping them out, and, when whirled out of sight, were 
 still gesticulating a polite farewell from either window. 
 
 Nugent watched them for a while, then walked slowly 
 back to the house with an expression of perplexity very 
 plainly visible on his countenance.
 
 PLANS AND PROSPECTS. 1^ 
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 PLANS AND PROSPECTS. 
 
 *' Well, my love ! " exclaimed Mr. Usherwood, as the 
 carriage, having gained the main road, rolled briskly 
 away towards home; '' as we have gone through this 
 precious ceremony (and I am sure, for my part, I deserve 
 great credit for my performance), perhaps you will con- 
 descend to inform me why you have taken such a sudden 
 fancy to this Nugent; tliis mighty farmer, whose great- 
 grandfather, legend says, was a gentleman ? " 
 
 " My dear," repHed the lady, " you are severe. His 
 father, grandfather, great-grandfether, were all gentle- 
 men — thoroughbred, I assure you ; and he is a gentle- 
 man " 
 
 "He a gentleman?" inquired her husband incredu- 
 lously, for his notion of the meaning of the word was 
 not very precise. " He a gentleman ? " 
 
 " He is, my dear. He not only is, but, what is quite 
 as much to the purpose, he looks a gentleman. His 
 ancestors lived here centuries ago. There stood a great 
 house there once upon a time. The very estate we have
 
 20 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 lately purchased belonged to liim. The Nugents of 
 Fitznugent are nearly connected with him. The Clin- 
 tons of Llanellesmere are his cousins. A Herbert Nu- 
 gent was hanged, drawn, and quartered by Henry YIH., 
 for treason or heresy, I forget which. Lady Amelia 
 Rosamunda de Clare (lately married to the eldest son 
 of Sir Sampson Frogmorton), has certainly Nugent 
 blood in her veins ; and she, you know, is descended in 
 a direct line from Su' James Tyrrell, who mm'dered the 
 princes in the Tower." 
 
 Mr. Usherwood, quite overpowered by this array of 
 facts, which Lady Maud uttered with gracefiil volubility, 
 fell back in the carriage, and gazed admiringly at his 
 wife. " But why," he, after a pause, inquired ; " why 
 this sudden affection for him ? A few days ago, we were 
 all to turn the cold shoulder on him. Now, we are hail 
 fellow and well met. Look at this shoe," he added, 
 raising his foot carefully, " spoilt by the mud of your 
 friend's farm-yard. And the pigs are at this moment 
 mumbling my golosh ! " 
 
 '^ My dear," said Lady Maud, " you have always had 
 confidence in me, and I trust that confidence has not 
 been misplaced." 
 
 " Maud," interrupted Mr. U., with responsive warmth, 
 " your opinion is law with me : doAvnright law." 
 
 " The fact is," continued Lady Maud, slightly lower- 
 ing her voice, " I have received private information re- 
 specting Mr. Nugent's prospects, which has caused me
 
 PLANS AXD PROSPECTS. 21 
 
 much thought, and quite placed him in another point of 
 view." 
 
 Smelling a small bouquet of half-opened rose-buds 
 which Xugent had presented to her on her taking leave, 
 she continued — " A change of politics in that direction 
 has become a matter of decided expediency ; indeed, I 
 may say " — sighing gently — " of clear duty : a mother's 
 duty. Gertrude's maid, Lucy, now an invalid, ascer- 
 tained through her brother, that Reginald Clinton, the 
 son and heir of old Sir Laurence, was very unwell 
 This at first made no change in my plans, because 
 althouo^h I am well aware that Nuorent is the next 
 heir, and must come into the property if Reginald 
 CHnton dies, yet the sickness I thought might be no- 
 thing. Yesterday, however, I sent express to the post 
 at Rentworth — Nugent usually waits for his letters to 
 come in the regular course — and received this letter in 
 reply to one I ^vrote the other day to my dear friend, 
 Emily Hawkshaw, who is staying at the same watering- 
 place as the Chntons — Coppice-on-Shingle. 'Tis a long 
 letter, but the pith of it is in the last sheet." 
 
 And she handed it to her husband, who, putting on 
 his spectacles, read with some difficidty as follows : — 
 
 Petunia Lodge, 
 Coppice-on-Shixgle. 
 
 Deabest Lady INLlud, — 
 
 I am dehghted, after so long a silence, you should 
 once more drop a line to your faithful Emily. 'Tis ages
 
 22 BELOW THE SUKFACE. 
 
 since you last wrote — I think full three years ; but tlie 
 delay only adds to the zest. You ask after me and mine, 
 what I am doing, saying, thinking. ' Tis so kind of you 
 to care about poor me, an emaciated spinster, with 
 friends who frequent Petunia Lodge for the sake of 
 eating my dinners, and relatives who haunt me with a 
 view to being remembered in my will ! This place is 
 increasing as fast as it can ; castles, villas, Elizabethan 
 halls are studding the hills in a perfect forest. Yes, 
 Coppice-on-Shingle, once a charming solitude, is now 
 disfigured by a crowd of structures, finished and un- 
 finished, in various styles. It looks like an architect's 
 huge lumber-room. 
 
 My nieces and I walk as usual three hours a-day. We 
 botanize and pick up shells, a la Sir Isaac Newton. A 
 modest game of whist, or even chess (do not yawn, 
 dearest Lady Maud), is very often our evening amuse- 
 ment. There are not many people of fashion here at 
 this time of year. Four London doctors, thirteen 
 clergymen having something the matter with their 
 throats, several invalids, a few stray dowagers and 
 elderly gentleman, who, under pretence of making love 
 to each other, are perpetually discussing and comparing 
 their respective ailments and infirmities ; these are our 
 principal visitors at present. Meantime the sea is very 
 blue, and Puffin's Bay very beautiful, just like some 
 strange unearthly shore Sindbad the sailor might have 
 pitched upon, and perhaps did. The trees are all out
 
 PLANS AKD PEOSPECTS. 23 
 
 in leaf, and have grown much smce I last heard from 
 you; but perhaps, with Dr. Johnson, you will rejoin that 
 they have nothing else to do. The pattern for a chair 
 cover you ask for, I enclose, and remain, dearest Lady 
 Maud, always your affectionate friend, 
 
 "Emily Hawkshaw." 
 
 "Why!" exclaimed IMr. Usherwood. "What light 
 does this rigmarole throw on the subject, I should like to 
 know?" 
 
 " The postscript — the postscript ! " said Lady Maud, 
 and, crossing the end of the letter, there was a postscript 
 discoverable after a little search. 
 
 " P.S. — By the bye, I forgot to answer the question you 
 accidentally dropped relative to the Clintons. They are 
 here, father and son ; the latter in hopeless consumption. 
 I have this moment seen Dr. Pettitoes. He in confi- 
 dence assifred me that Reginald Clinton could not survive 
 a month. The poor old man is much cast down. 'Twill 
 be a good thing for your neighbour the farmer : whom, 
 by the bye, you do not mention." 
 
 !Mr. Usherwood, after deciphering this important con- 
 clusion of the letter, looked up inquiringly to his wife, 
 and seemed still but imperfectly satisfied. Seeing, 
 however, his fair companion's face expressive of gentle 
 triumph, he took a pinch of snuff with some deliberation, 
 as if to clear his intellect, and then observed —
 
 24 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 ^'So, my dear, Reginald Clinton is going to die. 
 Well, and what next ? " 
 
 " Why, love, I tell you that the Clinton property, al- 
 though it is not generally known, is strictly entailed, 
 and must go to Nugent.'* 
 
 " Excuse me, but what is the Clinton property ? " 
 "Ten thousand a-year, at least. I have inquired 
 through our London solicitors." 
 
 " Reginald was a wild fellow, and gambled terribly," 
 observed her husband dubiously. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! But the entailed estates, the broad acres, 
 are untouched : they can't move. All the Llannelles- 
 mere property, the Downend and Wrexwood-under-River 
 iron mines, the manor of Clinton up in the north, the 
 Chllton-cum-Timsbmy estate." 
 
 "You seem to have them all at your fingers' ends!" 
 " I endeavour to do my duty," rejoined her ladyship 
 meekly. 
 
 " But why did not you ask him to dinner? " 
 " My dear, that would be going too fast. We must 
 proceed with dehcacy." 
 
 " I always rather liked Nugent," Usherwood went on, 
 warming as he proceeded — " I thought he had a sort of 
 superior air about him. In fact, he is a good gentle- 
 manly fellow. ^A fellow that hath had losses,' as 
 Dogberry says. I shall be glad to know more of him.'* 
 
 At this juncture the carriage drove into the park sur- 
 rounding Beaumont House, and the conversation ceased.
 
 PLANS AXD PEOSPECTS. 25 
 
 A3 her ladyship passed along one of the passages 
 leading from the entrance hall, sounds of a piano issuing 
 from an adjacent apartment loudly broke upon her 
 ear. The music was a piece by Thalberg, and 
 brilliantly executed; but occasionally there was that 
 peculiar break-down, followed by an awful pause, which 
 imphed the perpetration of a blunder, and the infliction 
 of a scolding. In short, the practice was going on — that 
 exercise by means of which teacher and pupil are very 
 apt to toiTQent each other for a couple of hours at a 
 time, giving and receiving much the same amount of 
 suffering ; and ending in an aching heart, red eyes, and 
 a bewildered brain for the rest of the day. So time it is 
 that half mankind seem carefully engaged in tormenting 
 the other half, and receiving precisely the same amount 
 of torment in retm-n. Lady Maud, on hearing the 
 accustomed sounds, turned to her maid who was follow- 
 ing her, and said: — 
 
 " Paine, be so good as to present my compliments 
 to Miss Beverley, and say I shall be extremely obliged 
 if she will look in upon me whilst I am dressing for 
 dinner." 
 
 [Miss Beverley was the governess. She had charge 
 of the thi'ee ]\Iiss Usherwoods. The eldest, GertiTide, 
 was seventeen, and consequently IMiss B. was supposed 
 to be finishing her education ; uuparting, as it were, the 
 last few touches necessary to produce a mellow matu- 
 rity of pohsh.
 
 26 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Miss Beverley was a lady of five or six and twenty; a 
 tall and rather handsome brunette, with regular features 
 and sparkling black eyes. She was a good linguist, and 
 a good musician; her reading was little beyond the usual 
 routine of schools, except in the romantic and imagina- 
 tive Hue : into this she had latterly flung herself with 
 much fervoiu", solacing her leism^e hours with volumes 
 abstracted from the library, or from Lady Maud's boudoir. 
 
 Though somewhat warm in temper, she was well prin- 
 cipled, and anxious to do her pupils justice. She gave 
 them whatever information she picked up, in addition to 
 the school-books Lady Maud allowed her; and did 
 not think she had sufficiently secured their spiritual 
 welfare w^hen she had drilled them into repeating the 
 catechism by rote, but gave them as much oral instruc- 
 tion and explanation as her own reading and reflection 
 could supply. She had not had, on the whole, an un- 
 happy time of it. Her pupils, Gertrude, Agatha, and 
 Jessie, though vivacious and a trifle wailful, were kept in 
 order through Lady Maud's influence. Her work was, as 
 it were, cut out for her. She earned her hours of pleasant 
 leisure and her night's rest, at the cost of very moderate 
 exertion. If she was deprived of some of the enjoy- 
 ments, she was also free from many of the anxieties, of life. 
 
 She was far better oiF than many of her sex, her equals 
 in rank and in means. She was far happier than her 
 cousin Mary, who married the solicitor' s clerk in London, 
 and had to bring up seven over-grown children in a
 
 PLANS AND PEOSPECTS. 27 
 
 small and smoky lodging, and endure the wear. and tear 
 of a soured husband who kept late hours. She was 
 more comfortable than her bosom fiiend Amelia, who 
 ran away with an ensign li^'ing on fifty pounds a year and 
 his pay; and, after dawdling away two years in various 
 small towns in the united kingdom, mending her husband's 
 linen, quarrelling with the other officers' wives, and 
 racking her brains to pay her milliner's bill at each 
 change of quarters, was one morning, with her husband 
 and his company, huddled on board an unwieldy trans- 
 port, and duly borne across the Atlantic to the stifling 
 West Indies. She spent a more enjoyable life than her 
 elder sister, who clubbed together with two old maids 
 to hve independent and ^Tithout an object, in an effete 
 watering-place, where she sank into confirmed dyspepsia. 
 
 Unfortunately however, 'Miss Beverley, Lady Maud's 
 governess, a year or two previous to the period we are 
 speaking of, although tolerably happy, doing her duty, 
 and enjoying her music, her books, and her walks, and 
 putting by, out of a salary of a hundred pounds a-year, 
 a handsome portion against future contingencies, at- 
 tracted the commiseration of one of Lady Maud's visi- 
 tors. Sir Elhott Prichard, a man of intellect, with pro- 
 found ideas of human society. 
 
 He talked to her eloquently on the grievances of her sex, 
 and especially of that fraction of it who came under the 
 denomination of governess. She listened deferentially, 
 and found out to her surprise that she was a miserable
 
 28 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 woman. He suggested a course of reading likely to 
 confirm her in a more enlarged view of things in general, 
 and departed ; forgetting next day that he had ever seen 
 her in his life. She, however, continued to ruminate on 
 her sad lot, and became Hable to occasional low spmts, 
 and an hysterical swelling of the throat. She took in 
 the spirited publication called " Woman's Weekly Wit- 
 ness," and studied a pamphlet entitled " Pains and Pro- 
 vocations ; or, a Voice from the School-room." She also 
 bought a small octavo volume, purporting to be " The 
 Governess considered in her Social, Scholastic, PoHtical, 
 and Moral Eelations." The direct results of this course 
 of stimulants were manifested in a rather less even 
 temper ; a mom^nful view of life in general, which ap- 
 proached the maudlin ; a vast accession of sensitiveness ; 
 a capacity for believing herself slighted when no slight 
 was intended, and fits of romantic desolation, which made 
 herself and others very uncomfortable. For instance, 
 she would go to bed at an extraordinarily early hour, and 
 be ^^Tetched all next day because nobody had remarked 
 it. She would glance unutterable things at her pupils, 
 and, when questioned, put her hand to her head, and 
 make no reply. She would sigh deeply without the 
 smallest provocation; and then, abruptly request that 
 nobody would take any notice of her. Nevertheless, 
 her natural good sense and spirits often gained the 
 mastery over these hallucinations, and did not allow her 
 to be utterly spoiled and demoralized : it was a phase
 
 PLAN'S AXD PROSPECTS. 29 
 
 of governess experience which coiild not permanently 
 possess and conquer a good heart and intelligent mind. 
 
 Such was ^Iis3 Beverley, then, when Paine, tapping 
 at the school-room door, but not putting the smallest 
 fraction of her foot within the room, delivered Lady- 
 Maud's message. Leaving her pupil Gertrude to con- 
 tinue her exercise on the piano (which employment that 
 young lady immediately changed for one of Scott's 
 novels), ^liss Beverley, smoothing the bands of her black 
 hair, something disordered by the agonies of the music 
 lesson, hastened to Lady Maud's apartments. 
 
 Gertrude, after a minute or two, either distracted by 
 her vounorer sisters, who had deserted their Italian exer- 
 cises and were loud in conversation, pretending to be 
 two ladles of his-h rank discussinor the merits of their 
 respective children — or else can-ied away by some train 
 of interesting thoughts — dropped the '•' Heart of Mid- 
 lothian " into her lap, and sat perfectly motionless before 
 the piano. As the light from a lamp on the chimney- 
 piece fell softly upon her from above, you could see her 
 countenance to the best advantage, and it was certainly 
 one which repaid the trouble of inspection. 
 
 She somewhat resembled her mother in the regularity 
 of her features, but her eyes were larger and darker, 
 and shone with a more steady lustre. Her small mouth 
 had an expression of strong determination : an element 
 of the femioine character which is often developed early 
 in life. The hair was a rich brown, simply braided, and
 
 30 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 gathered into a small cap of open crimson net-work, 
 which gave her head a classical appearance. She was 
 of course simply dressed, but wore a small black velvet 
 bow to fasten her collar, from which gleamed some 
 valuable jewel. By her place at the table lay the books 
 she had been studying ; and near them a vase of choice 
 flowers, and an elegant watch in a case of carved 
 ebony. 
 
 She had not sat long in this musing attitude, when a 
 hurried step along the passage announced ^iiss Beverley's 
 return. Gertrude mechanically struck a few bars on the 
 piano; but Miss Beverley on entering waved her hand, 
 and, in a voice of suppressed emotion, desired her to close 
 it ; and, on Gertrude evincing hesitation, she sprang to 
 the instrument and slammed it with a loud crash. 
 Whereupon, Gertrude, tossing her head somewhat 
 haughtily, withdrew to the fiirthest corner of the room, 
 and the two younger ones, much alarmed, commenced 
 \viiting their exercises with astonishing rapidity. 
 
 " All is over !" murmured Miss Beverley, as she went 
 to the window, and looked into the darkness with the 
 dismal earnestness of a Banshee. 
 
 "What is the matter, dear Miss Beverley?" asked 
 Gertrude, recovering her good-humour. " What has 
 happened ? " 
 
 The other girls kept on writing vigorously, but 
 listened with aU then ears. " Nothing— nothing ! You 
 wiU know aE soon."
 
 PLAKS AJSTD PROSPECTS. 31; 
 
 "But tell me, dear — tell me!" continued Gertrude, 
 taking her hand and caressing it. 
 
 " Such is life ! " exclaimed ^iiss Beverley in a hoarse 
 whisper. " Gertrude," she added, " your mother. Lady 
 Maud, wishes to see you the moment she leaves the 
 dining-room.'* She then turned and went hastily to the 
 door, followed by Gertrude. Turning suddenly, she 
 seized her fair pupil by the wrist, and exclaimed with 
 much excitement — " We part ! " and, so saying, she van- 
 ished from the room, and immediately afterwards was 
 heard to lock and bolt her bed-room door with decisive 
 energy. The young ladies gazed in wonder upon each 
 other, and after spending some minutes in whispered 
 but animated conversation, betook themselves to their 
 rooms to dress. 
 
 *^ Gertrude, my sweet child," said her mother, " sit 
 beside me on the sofa." 
 
 That young lady in some agitation seated herself, 
 whilst her mother, taking her hand affectionately, began 
 to criticise and alter the minutiae of her daughter's cos- 
 tume. "My dear creature, what a figure you are ! Let 
 me smooth your hair. Your collar is quite crooked. 
 I wish that poor Lucy of yours would get better, 
 or that you would give her up, and find another 
 maid." 
 
 " Mamma, I should be sorry to forsake her in her mis- 
 fortune." 
 
 " My love, your feeling on the subject is much to
 
 32 BELOW THE SUKFACE. 
 
 your credit. But, if she refuses to get better, what is 
 to be done ? Is it worth while to keep the place vacant 
 for her ? '' 
 
 "Well, mamma, she is an excellent servant, so kind, and 
 civil, and well-behaved — quite a pattern ladies' maid! " 
 
 "Paine says she is pert and inquisitive." 
 
 "That means that she is younger, prettier, and 
 cleverer than herself." 
 
 "My dear," said her mother, "I desired ]Miss 
 Beverley to request you to come to me, as I have some- 
 thing to say to you. Put your arm round my vraist, 
 dear. The fact is, Gertrude, on mature reflection, I 
 have decided to take you out of the school-room ; and, 
 in short, introduce you to society." 
 
 Gertrude turned crunson with surprise and pleasure. 
 
 "Ah! you must learn a few things yet, my dear, 
 though you have left the school-room. You must ac- 
 quire composure, gentleness, command of countenance. 
 That will do, love, your kisses are too vivacious ; my 
 dress is in disorder." Lady Maud stopped to restore 
 her toilette to its wonted perfection, and then proceeded : 
 " You speak French as well as can be expected for an un- 
 travelled Englishwoman, Italian passably. German you 
 can read, I believe ; I am pleased with your execution 
 on the piano, and with your singing; further I don't 
 know much about your acquirements, but I have confi- 
 dence in Miss Beverley." 
 
 There was a pause, and mother and daughter sat with
 
 PLANS AND PROSPECTS. 33 
 
 their arms encircling each other's waist, pursuing for a 
 moment the current of their own reflections. 
 
 "You will now, of course, dine with us, dear, and 
 accompany us in our calls, and visits, and gaieties, such 
 as they are in this secluded comer of the world. Your 
 allowance will be increased, and I shall write at once to 
 town to Madame Alphonse to take your toilette in hand. 
 It would be well if you read a few books of general 
 information. The Quarterly Review, Bowdler's Shak- 
 speare, some books of Travels — your father and I will 
 look out a few. And I should like you to read some 
 useful works : for example — !Mrs. Loudon's Gardenin'^'- 
 for Ladies, and her Country Companion. And another 
 nice book I know, ' Every Lady her own Dairymaid,' in 
 one volume.'' 
 
 " I will do all you wish, dearest mamma." 
 
 " And here, love, is a small token of regard," added 
 her mother, taking a small box from an adjacent work- 
 table. It contains jewels : some of them your late lament- 
 ed great-grandmother's, the Countess of Delafield; 
 some new : they are all I think prettily set and arranged. 
 Embrace me, my love. And, by the bye, I had forgot- 
 ten an illuminated Prayer-Book, of which I beg your 
 acceptance." 
 
 It was elaborately got up. Three bright blue 
 convolvuli and a sprig of myrtle twisted round the 
 margin of each page in violent con\Tilsions. The capital 
 letters shone like a blaze of fireworks. It was what 
 
 VOL. I, D
 
 34 BELOW THE SUKFACE. 
 
 ia called a Sunday Service Book. The Psalms for 
 morning and evening being placed in different parts of 
 the book, and other alterations made, confusing to any- 
 unfortunate into whose hands it falls for the first time 
 during divine service : for, with a countenance growing 
 redder and redder, he vainly endeavours to find his 
 place, and at last lays the book down in despair, at the 
 risk of being thought by the congregation to be either 
 an obdm'ate Dissenter or partially blind. 
 
 Gertrude was all gratitude, and commenced ransacking 
 her jewels, and commenting on them one by one. 
 
 " Oh, I wish Miss Beverley was here!" she cried. 
 
 " WeU, why does she not come 1 She knows she is 
 always welcome." 
 
 "Oh, she has gone to her room, and locked the 
 door!" 
 
 " Positively it is dangerous to one's health!" said Lady 
 !Maud ; " I foresee another scene." 
 
 " ShaU I take her some tea, mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes, any thing — every thing." 
 
 Gertrude was hastening out of the room with a cup 
 of tea, when Lady Maud exclaimed — 
 
 "By the bye, Gertrude, has Lucy Weston every 
 thing she wants ? " 
 
 " We left word you know, mamma, that she was to 
 send for whatever she fancied, but she has only sent once 
 for some currant jelly. I cannot help fearing, the house- 
 keeper must have been cross, or something of the kind."
 
 PLANS AKD PROSPECTS. 35 
 
 "Well, my dear — ^I think it would be a kind and 
 right thing if you were to call on her yourself, and take 
 a little basket of comforts for the poor girl." 
 
 " Oh, I should like it above all things ! When may 
 I go, mamma ? '* 
 
 " To-morrow, dear, if you like, at about twelve o'clock. 
 But be careful not to go into the cottage. There may 
 be infection." 
 
 Gertrude now pursued her way to Miss Beverley's 
 apartment. But that lady, after sitting on the rug op- 
 posite the fireless grate, for some minutes in total 
 darkness, had gradually come to the conclusion that she 
 should find her situation pleasanter at the tea-table, 
 with a Hghted caudle and a well-furnished tray before 
 her. Accordingly she had waylaid a wandering house- 
 maid, and signified her washes, and, not being unpopular 
 amongst the domestics, was very soon provided with 
 lights and refreshment. She was about half-way through 
 her sohtary meal, and was reading, for the thhd time, 
 that valuable pamphlet, " Pains and Provocations ; or, 
 a Voice from the School-room," which she had propped 
 up against the sugar-basin, when a gentle tap was 
 heard at the door, and a voice asking if she would 
 take a cup of tea. jMiss Beverley's face immediately 
 assumed the Banshee expression, and, taking care not 
 to rattle the tea-things, she answered in a sepulchral 
 voice — " Xo, Gertrude— no, I want no tea : do not mind 
 me." Gertrude inquired if she might come in; but
 
 36 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Miss Beverley, having just taken a mouthful of buttered 
 toast, thought it more prudent as well as decorous to 
 preserve silence, and Gertrude began slowly to walk 
 away. 
 
 Miss Beverley's better feelings, however, now pre- 
 vailed, and, springing to the door, she flung it open and 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " Gertrude dear, I have tea, hot-buttered toast, and 
 an egg — come in ! " 
 
 The next moment they were embracing each other, 
 and shedding tears with that promptitude pecuhar to 
 the fair sex. Then, sitting doA\Ti, they discussed the 
 remainder of the tea and buttered toast, and talked over 
 Gertrude's change of position and prospects. 
 
 " Well," said Gertmde, " I dare say I shall find my 
 time hang heavy enough on my hands, now I have done 
 with lessons." 
 
 " Oh ! " rejoined her companion, " all will be novelty 
 to you ; you will enjoy your liberty immensely. I shall 
 find the school-room very dull Avithout you. You will 
 have new friends, new associations — I shall be no one ! '* 
 and Miss Beverley was in danger for a moment of 
 elapsing into despondency. 
 
 "Don't say so," said Gertrude, taking her hand; 
 " we will be firlends all the same, and read books, and 
 play duets, and sketch together, and you shall give me 
 a good scolding now and then, as of old, to keep up 
 your spirits."
 
 PLANS AND PROSPECTS. 37 
 
 Miss Beverley smiled at her former pupil, with her 
 eyes brimful of tears. 
 
 " And," continued Gertrude, " we wiU walk together, 
 and you shall talk to me of the past, and teU me some 
 of those romantic stories you used to favour me with 
 when we had had a good day. Why, where am I to 
 find friends and new associations hereabouts, I should 
 like to know ? There's no one really but two or three 
 clergjrmen, and Sir Eliot Prichard, and the great coal- 
 mine proprietor, and two or three distant squires." 
 
 "You forget Mr. Nugent at the Manor-house." 
 
 "The Manor-house Farm, you should caU it, my 
 dear," rejoined Gertrude. 
 
 "It's a most mysterious place!" exclaimed the 
 romantic governess. " Depend upon it, there are some 
 strange old stories about that house, and about the 
 Nugents, and the ruins, and the old avenue. I shouldn't 
 be at aU surprised if the rick barton was not haunted by 
 a ghost ! " she added, with some solemnity. 
 
 " I cannot see any thing romantic in a farm-yard," 
 answered Gertrude. 
 
 " But, my dear, consider. Years ago, before you or I 
 were bom, when those taU elms were thin, fragile, ten- 
 der saplings, there stood, no doubt, a grand old pictu- 
 resque mansion in the centre of those park-like grounds. 
 Doubtless the Nugenta were wont, in those days, to 
 issue forth with their armed retainers, and strike a 
 gaUant stroke for altar and for crown."
 
 do BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 " Pm afraid they were Puritans ! " exclaimed Gertrude, 
 laughing. 
 
 " WeU, then, for freedom and for faith ! " replied Miss 
 Beverley, rapidly adjusting her romantic visions to the 
 exigencies of prosaic history. 
 
 "Wounded knights," she continued, "have been 
 borne bleeding up that avenue, lovely damsels have 
 climbed the hill, to watch for father, or brother, or 
 lover returning from the wars. Oh, depend upon it, 
 it is a mysterious place ! I do hope Mr. Nugent will 
 some day recover his position, re-purchase all his ances- 
 tral estates, and be M.P. for the county, High Sheriff 
 and Lord-Lieutenant into the bargain ! I think him so 
 interesting ! He always looks as if he wxre somebody 
 who, for excellent reasons, thought it expedient to wear 
 a temporary disguise." 
 
 " My dear, how excited you are ! Now, just look at 
 these beautiful jewels mamma has given me. Is it not 
 kind?'^ 
 
 As soon as due admiration had been lavished on her 
 presents, that young lady bade Miss Beverley good-night, 
 and hurried away to her bed-room. Here, seemingly 
 disinclined for going to rest, she occupied herself with 
 arranging the room afresh, altering the situation of 
 chairs and tables, changing books, distributing her orna- 
 ments in new situations. There was over the mantel- 
 piece a picture of a Madonna (a small copy of a Guido), 
 and before it was placed an elegant little marble figure of
 
 PLAXS AXD PROSPECTS. Z$ 
 
 Flora, scattering flowers round her. Gertrude took 
 away the picture, and hung it in another part of the 
 room, placing a copy of Beatrice Cenci in its place. 
 Then she removed the Flora, and placed instead of it 
 her new illuminated prayer-book, with two alabaster 
 Cupids playing together on one side, and on the other a 
 stuffed bullfinch under a glass case, trying to catch a faded 
 buttei'fly. She seemed pleased with this arrangement, 
 and completed the effect by a vase of flowers at each 
 end of the mantelpiece. She then, with a certain de- 
 gree of impetuosity not unusual in her, proceeded to 
 the bookcase, and, glancing her eye over a row of school- 
 books of slightly invalided aspect, seized at least two- 
 thirds of them. Que after another, and pihng them in the 
 grate, set them on fire, encouraging the conflagration by 
 a copious libation of wax from her bed-room candles. 
 
 After gazing with much satisfaction at this literary 
 bonfire, she hastened to her writing-table, and re- 
 plenished her blotting-book by two quires of best 
 Bath post, and a quire of cream-tinted note-paper; 
 arranging pens and sealing-wax in proportion in the 
 inkstand adjacent. She then decked herself in the 
 whole of the jewels lately presented to her by her 
 mother, and stood before the looking-glass investigating 
 her appearance for about ten minutes. At length an 
 expression of weariness began to settle upon that pretty 
 face, mingled with self-reproach, and, taking off her 
 ornaments, she rang for her maid, or rather for her
 
 40 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 mother's maid. That worthy woman, however, after 
 waitmg in the housekeeper's room till half-past eleven, 
 in expectation of the young lady's bell — passing the time 
 in grumbling against all young ladies in general, and 
 in little uneasy dozes and fragmentary slumbers — 
 having twice set her cap on fire, had retired bodily to 
 bed, and was sleeping, as Sydney Smith would say, with 
 "forty housemaid power." Consequently, Gertrude 
 rang in vain, and at length, with the air of a martyr, 
 undressed herself, and succeeded in getting safely to 
 bed without assistance.
 
 THE TWO PRISONERS. 41 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TWO PRISONERS. 
 
 Miss Beverley was not far from the truth in assuming 
 that Nugent's ancestors had been great people in their 
 day. They had o^\Tied the land which he now rented, 
 and a great many broad acres besides. Once an old 
 manorial residence rose in varied but picturesque pro- 
 portions upon the gentle slope of that wooded hill-side, 
 towards which the avenue of elms, already described, 
 formed a stately approach. Some heavy fines, inflicted 
 for pohtical offences under the agreeable regime of the 
 Stewarts, followed up by an inroad of the sea, which 
 carried havoc over the low lands in the district, had 
 shaken the stability and curtailed the resom-ces of the 
 family. The property was burdened with mortgage 
 after mortgage, until the owners were little better than 
 collectors of rent for the benefit of expectant creditors. 
 
 When Nugent's father succeeded to the possessions 
 of his ancestors, he found himself nothing better than a 
 penniless gentleman, surrounded by an empty pageant 
 of hill and dale, rich meadow and productive arable, 
 the rent of which he never touched, and a fine old
 
 42 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 house decaying for want of repairs, which he could 
 scarcely afford to keep warm and habitable. Early 
 scenes of anxiety, and of bitter humiliation, had some- 
 what soured his mind, but at the same time infused into 
 him a wholesome austerity and practical vigour suitable 
 to his circumstances. His great aim and secret ambi- 
 tion was by degrees, however slowly, yet at some time 
 or other, to pay off the debts which crippled and 
 crushed the estate, and to come forth once more an in- 
 dependent man. This object filled his whole soul. Pie 
 had seen the debasing misery of debt, the petty shifts, 
 the effort to keep uj) a show of luxury and ease, the 
 abject dependence on unworthy confidants and auxi- 
 liaries, the aching cares, and the half-unconscious 
 trickery to which men, by no means of low average 
 honesty, oftentimes descend, when they owe more than 
 they can pay, and yet keep up an estabhshment which 
 continually increases the amount of what they owe, 
 whilst it diminishes their ability of discharging it. He 
 strove hard, therefore, to conquer the difficulties be- 
 queathed to him. It was a severe and trying struggle. 
 In the midst of it an accident happened, which 
 at first sight appeared disastrous, but proved most 
 beneficial. The Manor-house, in his absence from home, 
 was set on fire through the carelessness of a servant, 
 and completely gutted by the flames; which fed vora- 
 ciously on its old wainscots and well-dried timbers, its 
 roof of Spanish chestnut, its floors of poKshed oak. He
 
 THE TWO PRISONEKS. 43 
 
 was for a couple of hours prostrated by the accumulated 
 misfortunes which beset him. But his strong spirit 
 speedily rallied. His resolution was soon taken. Some 
 kind friends and relations urged the rebuilding of his 
 house in its ancient style, at any cost or sacrifice. He 
 inquired drily how much they would contribute towards 
 the work, and was very shortly left alone to his own re- 
 flections. He drew from the quarter where he had 
 invested them, half the savings of several years' steady 
 self-denial and ft-ugality. He employed this sum in 
 completing the destruction of his house, and in erecting, 
 on the site of the old stables, the unpretending abode we 
 have briefly described. He altered and added to the 
 various oflSces around it. Finally, he took into his own 
 hands a few hundred acres convenient to the house, and 
 turned farmer in sober earnest. 
 
 The trials and diSicidties of his progress through life, 
 drove him to seek support and comfort from the ex- 
 ercise of religious faith. His tone of mind, and indeed 
 the hereditary principles of his family, imparted some- 
 what of a rigid and narrow character to his religious 
 views. He was a puritan, but also an honest servant of 
 God, and derived abundant consolation and hope from 
 the truth which he had embraced, and to which he 
 faithfrilly adhered throughout a long and busy hfe. 
 Meantime, he worked at his farm with a kind of stem, 
 resolute enthusiasm. 
 
 The needy squire began to be transformed into the
 
 44 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 tlu-iving yeoman. He married a lady young, hand- 
 some, and well educated; for a lady, poor — for a farmer's 
 wife, tolerably well off. Her sweet and gentle disposi- 
 tion softened the harshness of her husband's temper, and 
 mitigated its natural austerity. When Ohver their only 
 son grew up to man's estate, the old man summoned him 
 into his private room, and explained to him the whole 
 state of the family affairs ; described all the trials and 
 humiliations he himself had undergone; and put it 
 to him whether he would prefer to sneak and shuffle 
 through hfe as a pauper gentleman, or look the best 
 man in the realm boldly in the face as an upright, inde- 
 pendent yeoman ? 
 
 Oliver's choice was soon made. The father and son 
 cut off the entail of the stiU burdened estate ; sold the 
 whole of it, except about 600 acres immediately around 
 the house; with the proceeds, and the accumulated 
 savings of some years, hquidated every farthing of debt ; 
 and then, with hearts Hght and joyous, settled down on 
 the unembarrassed property, now in every sense their 
 own, and continued to farm it with activity and success. 
 
 Anticipating the possibility of his son s gaining a 
 liigher position in society than he himself had bequeath- 
 ed to him, he thought it right that Ohver shoiJd have 
 an excellent education: such an education as should 
 amply accord with any future improvement in his 
 worldly circumstances. He should not indeed send 
 him to either of the universities ; but a few years at
 
 THE TWO PRISONEES. 45 
 
 a public school, and a year or two with an excellent 
 tutor, proved amply sufficient for the object in view. 
 
 Three years only had elapsed since the death of 
 Oliver's parents, at the period when the present narra- 
 tive commences ; but, for some time before his father's 
 decease, Nugent had assumed and carried on the 
 management of the small estate now belonging to his 
 family. 
 
 In addition to the freehold property, he rented two or 
 three hundred acres of adjacent land, once his father's, 
 but since passed into the hands of strangers. 
 
 The management of a farm of this extent requires much 
 experience, ability, and vigour. The mind of the agri- 
 culturist must be capable of forming, as each year re- 
 volves, plans of multitudinous detail; embracing the 
 operations of the field ; the rotation of crops ; the treat- 
 ment of each particular piece of land; the sale and 
 purchase of stock and produce; the economy of the 
 stable, the stall, the sheepfold, &c. ; and a multitude of 
 other matters. 
 
 Meantime a careful eye must be fixed upon the fluc- 
 tuations of the market ; and a vigilant and energetic 
 supervision extended over the numerous labourers and 
 workmen employed in the field or in the yard; from 
 the bailiff to the boy who scares the birds from the 
 wheat; from the head carter to the old woman who 
 strips the leaves from the turnips previous to their being 
 thrown into the turnip-crusher.
 
 46 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Fortitude, patience, self-command, a cool judgment, 
 even we may add courage, are required when the time 
 of harvest draws near; and over-precipitation on 
 the one hand, or too timid and hesitating a step 
 on the other, may inflict disastrous losses on the 
 farmer, and render vain the toil and anxiety of many 
 months. It is a pleasant and a wholesome spectacle 
 to see any one amidst such trials and difficulties pre- 
 serve a manly cheerfulness of demeanour; maintain 
 an even temper under varying circumstances ; and 
 rise with renewed vigour after every check and disap- 
 pointmemt. 
 
 Nugent was calm and steady, if he was not light- 
 hearted and buoyant. His voice might not impart 
 a gay fearlessness to his men, but it braced them to 
 resolute perseverance. Quiet confidence, invincible 
 endiurance, and at all times a simple spmt of resignation, 
 coupled with a cautious yet enterprising temper, fore- 
 sight, and self-command, these were Nugent 's principal 
 characteristics as an agriculturist. The daily authority 
 he exercised over so many around him, acting upon a 
 mind by nature inclined to be self-sufficing and confident 
 in its oy*^n conclusions, had gradually wrought in him a 
 habit of setting too low a value on the opinions of others 
 when they differed from his own. He examined a 
 matter honestly and earnestly, and, when he had once 
 made up his mind upon it, felt some difficulty in 
 believing that, after all, he might be mistaken. In
 
 THE TWO PRISONERS. 47 
 
 practice he often gave up his opinion; but when he 
 succumbed it was rather in the spirit of a martyr than 
 of a convert. His judgments were generally just and 
 true from his o^vn point of view; but he did not 
 always make allowance for the almost inevitable pre- 
 judices and predilections of others, nor take into cal- 
 culation the possible inaccuracy of his own deductions, 
 and the bias of his own mind. He was strongly and 
 sincerely under the influence of religion. A little of a 
 puritan, he was nevertheless a fahly loyal servant of the 
 Church of England. Some portions of her doctrine 
 and formularies he might object to ; on others he 
 might harbour doubts; but these were exceptional points 
 of disagreement. He valued, obeyed, and to a certain 
 degree reverenced, his church as a whole. A respect 
 for discipline and order, an abhorrence of wrangling 
 and confusion, were strong motives to retain him in a 
 society in which the truth was substantially taught, 
 even if it were occasionally infected by error: a society 
 containing in its ranks so many excellent and pious 
 men, and extending over the length and breadth of the 
 land a wholesome and salutary influence. 
 
 The day after Lady Claud's visit to the Manor-house 
 Farm, Nugent, just returned from his usual ride over the 
 estate, threw the reins of his strong active galloway to 
 one of his men, and, entering the house, proceeded to a 
 long low room which went by the name of the library; 
 although, to say the truth, the few shelves, and those
 
 48 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 scantily provided with books, ranged round the room, 
 did not impart to it a very literary aspect. 
 
 You descended into it by three steps, and as 
 the ceiling was of dark oak boards crossed by heavy 
 horizontal ribs of the same material, remnants of the 
 ancient mansion, the first impression received was not 
 lively. The latticed window was indeed broad, but 
 the level of the floor being below the external ground, 
 much light was not admitted ; especially when the roses 
 and honeysuckles had made their summer shoots, and 
 hung over and beset the window on all sides, as if strug- 
 gling to force their way in. The chimneypiece was 
 composed of fragments of carved stone; two massive 
 blocks on each side supporting a slab of sandstone, under 
 which two or three corbels w^ere inserted — weather- 
 beaten faces of an unearthly expression, whose grim 
 but yet dignified severity was not softened by a slight 
 Btain of smoke arising from their proximity to the fire. 
 The furniture of the room was of a plain, almost meagre 
 description. The w^alls were covered with a cheap and 
 sickly-looking paper; green baize covered the floor. 
 Over the old chimneypiece hung the portrait of a lady 
 of middle age, of a sweet and serious cast of counte- 
 nance, and a quiet nobihty of aspect. 
 
 There was a cupboard full of papers and account-books, 
 and against one side of the room a gun or two, a brace 
 of pistols, a hunting-whip, and tln-ee ancient swords of 
 the dates respectively of Agincourt, the Armada, and the
 
 THE TWO PEISOXEES. 49 
 
 Commonwealth, were suspended. Whilst the remain- 
 ing walls were ornamented by an agricultural almanac 
 motmted map-like on a roller, a handsome baro- 
 meter, a portrait of a favourite horse, a coloured 
 dra^ving of various flmgi and insects hostile to the 
 growth of plants, five walking-sticks of various shapes 
 and sizes, and a few book shelves. On the chimney- 
 piece were two or three small canvass bags containing 
 samples of grain or seed, a small model of a drilling- 
 machine, an antique snuff-box filled with copper caps, 
 and a small paper parcel containing a specimen of super- 
 phosphate of lime. The books on the shelves were 
 principally on agricultural subjects, but there were a 
 few works of general instruction. There was also 
 a Greek Testament, Virgil's Georgics, Hesiod, two gi- 
 gantic folios reposing one atop of the other (one of them 
 Scott's Commentary, the other a Greek Lexicon), 
 besides a heap of dusty pamphlets, tracts, and vener- 
 able newspapers. 
 
 Nugent entered this room, sat doAvn to the table, 
 pulled a large desk towards him, and, placing his 
 watch on one side of it, commenced writing two or three 
 letters. Now and then he glanced at his watch, and, 
 when the hour-hand approached eleven, he rose, sealed 
 and directed his letters, and dropped them into a small 
 leathern case, which he placed outside the door. One 
 of the letters was addressed to Sir Laurence Clinton, 
 Bart., The Grotto, Coppice-on-Shingle ; and we take the 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 liberty of briefly mentioning the contents. They were 
 expressive of sympatliyj unaffected but cordial, with 
 the old man on accoimt of the dangerous illness of his 
 beloved son, who, a few months before, was one of the 
 handsomest and gayest habitues of Paris and Florence ; 
 but now, a weak and wasted invalid, with hollow cheeks 
 and dreamy eye, he was drawn about in a bath-chair on 
 sunny days up and down the esplanade, his old father 
 walking by his side and occasionally holding his hand. 
 
 It was a delicate matter for any man to write a letter 
 of condolence on an affliction which might produce so 
 great a change for the better in his own circumstances ; 
 but Nugent did not feel any embarrassment: he was 
 sim2:)le and direct in what he took in hand; was not 
 vehemently interested in the possible effects Reginald 
 Clinton's death might have upon his worldly fortunes, 
 but sincerely grieved for the distracted father; and 
 wrote accordingly. 
 
 After giving some directions to one or two men who 
 were waiting for him outside, he took his hat and stick, 
 and, going through the garden, walked at a quick pace 
 up the sloping lawn upon wliich the drawing-room 
 looked out, and passed through a gate at the upper end, 
 under some tall fir-trees. From thence he was soon 
 upo:: a breezy down, wiiich overlooked his whole farm.- 
 stead and the bread valley to the left, and on the right 
 gave a fine view of the broad, ever-changing sea. He 
 pursued his way along the down for some distance;
 
 THE T^YO PRISONERS. 51 
 
 occasionally passing between clumps of gorse glowing 
 with yellow blossoms, stunted hollies green and hardy, 
 and twisted thorn-bushes bent all awry, and throwing 
 out in one direction their crooked branches, as if to 
 escape from the prevalent wind which vexed them. 
 
 After stopping to converse with his shepherd — whom 
 he found, not playing on a pipe, but unromantically de- 
 voiuring bread and cheese on the lee side of a wall, with 
 some hundred sheep cropping the short herbage around 
 him — Nugent turned down a precipitous path, that 
 conducted him to an angle of the valley, along which an 
 in-egular road wound, flanked on one side by pollard ash, 
 and an occasional thin and meagre fir-tree ; interspersed 
 with thatched cottages of ancient aspect, their gables 
 sometimes turned towards the road, sometimes at right 
 angles. On the other side an arable field stretched; 
 upon which three ploughs were busily at work. 
 
 This hamlet once belonged to the Nugents, but had 
 long since come into other hands. Small as it appeared 
 to be, tiiree beer-shops were conspicuous at intervals 
 along the road, exhibiting, through the dhi;y panes of 
 then- lower window, a row of pewter pots smeared with 
 the dregs of the stupefying beer or poisonous cider which 
 the owners retailed to their customers. The cottages 
 seemed, many of them, out of repair and neglected by 
 the landlord ; but in some there was an air of neatness 
 and order, and an attempt at ornament within and 
 without, rather cheering to witness. ^^ 
 
 U, OF ILL UB.
 
 52 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Nugent stopped at one or two of them, and entering 
 in remained there a few minutes. 
 
 It had been for some time his habit to visit the sick 
 and poor of his parish. He did this partly from a kind 
 and charitable feeling; partly because, as an overseer 
 and churchwarden, he felt a satisfaction in ascertaining 
 that the poor and the sick were duly provided for, and 
 that the ratepayer s interests were at the same time 
 honestly protected. Although, therefore, in the main 
 actuated by Christian motives, there was an intermixture 
 of business-like vigilance, which might have given him, 
 in the eyes of a stranger, the aspect rather of a hard- 
 headed parish officer looking after the interests of the 
 public, than of a kind-hearted, yet prudent, friend of 
 the needy and suffering ; as Nugent really was. The 
 poor, whom he frequently succoured, and the sick, whom 
 he watched over and provided for as if they were per- 
 sonal friends, did not always feel that glow of affection- 
 ate gratitude which might have been expected. His 
 manner was reserved ; he had not the best method of 
 comforting or advising the suflPering and the erring. 
 Many, however, loved him, and all respected, even 
 whilst they feared him. 
 
 After paying visits, then, to a few poor people, 
 Nugent proceeded along the main road for a little 
 distance until he came to a solitary cottage, with a 
 thatched roof green with moss, in the midst of a good- 
 sized but thoroughly neglected garden. The window
 
 THE TWO PEISOXERS. 53 
 
 of the ground floor room had a broken pane, in which 
 a battered old hat had been carelessly stuffed. He 
 opened the ricketty Httle gate leading into the garden, and 
 walked up to the cottage along a path ankle-deep in weeds. 
 
 He knocked, but receiving no answer, or at least 
 hearing none, tried to open the door, but found it locked. 
 As he heard the noise of children inside he knocked 
 ao-ain, but still no notice was taken. He then looked 
 through the window, removing for the purpose the old 
 hat just mentioned. Upon a bed, against one of the 
 walls of the small room, lay the form of a woman greatly 
 reduced by sickness. She was not old, but was 
 evidently very ill. There was no article of furniture in 
 the room except this bed, and an empty deal box 
 which seemed to be used as a table. The bed was old 
 and worm-eaten; but a new and substantial blanket or 
 two, with decent sheets, enveloped the sick woman. 
 Two or three yoimg children, pale and in rags, were 
 engaged in violent play, rolling about on the stone floor 
 of the cottage. By the poor woman's side lay a thick ash 
 t\^'ig, and occasionally, as the children came within reach, 
 she woidd bid them be quiet, and at the same time seize 
 the stick, and with a feverish effort strike at them. The 
 little ones, thus admonished, would scramble out of reach 
 of their mother's arm, and for a few moments cease their 
 clamour, only to commence presently TN-ith fresh vigour. 
 
 Xugent gazed for a few minutes on this painful 
 scene with a look of anxiety and sorrow, as if grieving
 
 54 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 over what he saw, and reflecting how he might best 
 put a stop to it. Suddenly the children perceived him, 
 and all slunk into different comers of the room, and 
 one into the deal box. He spoke to the sick mother. 
 
 "Mrs. Harrill — Margaret, how do you feel to-day?" 
 
 "Main bad, Squire Nugent," answered the woman. 
 "I have no peace." 
 
 " I cannot get the door open," continued Nugent. 
 
 " O dear!" said the woman, "you see I sent Edward 
 out for a loaf, and he locks the door, or may be the 
 bairns would get into the road and be run over. 
 
 " I fear they disturb you." 
 
 "I can't say but they do that. Squire Nugent. 
 Only, when Edward's at home he keeps them quiet 
 enough, but when he goes out they're all Avild-like again." 
 And the poor woman shook her stick feebly at the 
 young urchin in the deal box, who was peeping out at 
 " the gentleman." 
 
 "And how does Edward go on?" asked Nugent. 
 
 " Oh! for the matter of that, he eats hearty; and he'll 
 be a good strapping lad by and bye." 
 
 "But how do you like him? Is he useful to you? 
 Does he behave well?" 
 
 " He is a blessing to me," said the woman earnestly. 
 " I should have been dead before now if it hadn't been 
 along of him." 
 
 " Let us see — you receive a shilling a week from the 
 parish?"
 
 THE TWO PRISONERS. 55 
 
 "Yes, your honour — and it's too little. I'm not in 
 power able to do with it : I'm not, indeed!" 
 
 ^* My good woman, don't say so. 'Tis more than you 
 have a right to expect. But here is Edward." 
 
 And a boy of about ten years old, carrying on one 
 shoulder a quartern-loaf, entered the little garden. lie 
 was a slim and handsome child, with a thoughtful but 
 almost gloomy coimtenance, and deep black eyes. He 
 looked hard at Isugent, and then put his hand to his 
 cap. Opening the door of the cottage he went in, 
 followed by Nugent, and, placing the loaf on the box, 
 was immediately surrounded by aU the children, whose 
 eager looks showed that they were now any thmg but 
 disposed to play. The boy produced a large pocket- 
 knife, and began cutting the loaf into equal slices; 
 reserving a piece of the crumb for the sick woman. 
 Whilst the boy was gravely, and with strict justice, dls- 
 tributinsr the bread to the anxious claimants around 
 him, Nugent conversed] in a low voice with [the 
 mother. 
 
 " You have not heard from any one about the boy 
 then?" 
 
 "No, sir, not a word. Who's to care, sir, about such 
 as he ? He's a love chUd, and no one will claim him." 
 
 " But how do you know ? " 
 
 " The poor lady owned it to HarriU afore she died, 
 at least so Hanill says : but he don't much like to talk 
 of her, and would swear awful if I questioned him."
 
 56 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 " You say Harrill used to get plenty of money from 
 some quarter or other wlien you first came liere ? " 
 
 " Plenty for all of us ! " exclaimed the woman, flushing 
 with shame and excitement; "but that wicked man 
 wasted it shameful." 
 
 " At the beer-shop ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay ! — the most of it went that way, as the 
 most of it goes now." 
 
 "Well," rejoined Nugent, "you have acted a kind 
 part by the boy." 
 
 " I will do so as long as I have life left me ; but 'tis he 
 looks after me now. I should be dead were it not for 
 he." 
 
 " You would be far better in the work-house than in 
 this wretched place : no quiet ; no comfort." 
 
 The woman shook her head emphatically. " I can't 
 abide to lose my children : I have 'em here all day about 
 me ; and it's cheerful-like, you see. And then there's 
 Ned ; I couldn't part with Ned." 
 
 The poor woman now showed symptoms of hysterics, 
 and Nugent thought best to drop his favom'ite topic of 
 conversation with her — the advantages of the work-house 
 over her present miserable abode. 
 
 " Is your husband kinder now ? " he asked. 
 
 " Much the same. He let me keep the blankets your 
 honour sent, but he changed away one of the sheets for 
 drink." 
 
 Nugent's countenance darkened. " I tell you what,
 
 THE TWO PRISONERS. 57 
 
 Margaret, this must not continue. You had relief last 
 week from the Board ; your husband is able to keep you 
 off the parish if he chose to work ; and I shall pull 
 him up at the next Justice meeting, and give him 
 another month in the county jail. He knows the way 
 there now." 
 
 Tears came into the woman's sunken eyes, but she 
 was too fatigued to say much more ; and Nugent, after a 
 few kind words of encouragement, rose from the edge of 
 the bed where he had been sitting, put a packet of tea 
 and sugar into the boy Edward's hand, Avith a tract for 
 him to read to Margaret, and then, shaking her by the 
 hand, departed. 
 
 He now struck across the fields until he reached the 
 main road which intersected the valley, along which he 
 proceeded about a mile, until he came in sight of a 
 handsome country seat surrounded by extensive pleasure- 
 grounds, and a park which seemed to have been recently 
 composed by throwing several fields into one. 
 
 Young trees were planted about in groups, fenced in 
 various ways to protect them against sheep and cattle ; 
 a belt of young plantation, still too diminutive to over- 
 step the pahngs placed in front of it — fir, larch, 
 beech, oak, all huddled together, struggling for air and 
 elbow-room — lined on^ side of the park. 
 
 Nugent' s eye wandered for a moment to the distant 
 house. Little accustomed to artifice, he did not attri- 
 bute Ladv island's chansre of conduct towards him to
 
 58 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 any selfish motives. He thought her capricious and 
 changeable, but, on the whole, was glad of the sort of 
 amende she had made him. 
 
 Not far from the lodge which formed the entrance 
 into the park, two or three cottages were situated. To 
 one of these Nugent directed his steps. It was a decent- 
 looking cottage, with a large window looking into the 
 road. This window contained a printed placard, an- 
 nouncing the fact that George Weston, "Medical 
 Professor and Scientific Herbalist," might be consulted 
 daily from ten till four, and giving a long list of dis- 
 eases that he professed to cure by means of the 
 simple remedies which long experience and extensive 
 familiarity with botany had suggested to him. " Con- 
 sulting fee, two shillings and sixpence. N.B. — Money 
 returned if no rehef afforded. Mens sana in corpore 
 sano,^* The Latin quotation was a masterly stroke of 
 pohcy, and had conquered the scepticism of many a 
 country bumpkin, after he had for many days together 
 flattened his nose against the window frame as he re- 
 turned home from work, and marvelled whether the 
 quack-doctor could do any thing for " our Polly," or for 
 the " old woman," or for " little Tommy." 
 
 In addition to these medical announcements, there 
 were one or two advertisements of a somewhat dif- 
 ferent character. For example : — a half sheet of 
 paper contained samples of elaborate penmanship, 
 with an intimation under that George Weston wrote
 
 THE TWO PEISOXEES. 59 
 
 letters on any subject — whether to distant relatives and 
 sweethearts, or to persons of rank and authority, from 
 members of parhament do^vn to guardians of the poor — at 
 the moderate charge of twopence a sheet. Furthermore, 
 there was a notice that George Weston purposed 
 delivering his usual monthly lecture at the " Eed 
 LioD," at the hour of seven o'clock in the evening, on 
 Monday next. " Subject — Evenings with the Neces- 
 sarians; or, was Greenacre a murdered man? Ad- 
 mission, one penny." 
 
 At the door of this cottage Nugent knocked, and the 
 door was presently opened by Weston himself, the 
 man mentioned in our fii'st chapter, -with his coat off and 
 an open Bible in his hand. 
 
 "How is Lucy ? " inquired Nugent. 
 
 " Very weak, sir. Quite prostrate. Never saw her 
 so bad. She has no more strength than a baby." 
 And the man passed the sleeve of his shirt across his 
 eyes. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Nugent," he continued, "I'm too 
 deeply interested to prescribe for her myself. I have 
 called in Mr. Grierson, and he visits her daily. But he 
 don't deny there's danger." 
 
 "Well," observed Nugent, "I am glad you have a 
 book in your hand which is our best companion in 
 trouble. Do you read it to her ? " 
 
 "Ay, sir, every day. She says it does her good. 
 And I beheve it's a first-rate book for a sick-room, it's
 
 60 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 SO full of comforting thouglits ; though you know, Mr. 
 Nugent, I am unable to admit its inspiration, and ques- 
 tion its authenticity into the bargain." Nugent looked 
 deeply offended, and said — 
 
 " I have no authority over you — none whatever. But 
 at least, for your sister's sake, forbear to speak slightingly 
 of the revealed word of God— of that God in whose 
 hands your sister now is." 
 
 '^ Sir, I meant no offence," answered Weston ; " I have 
 a great respect for a portion of the Scriptures : you 
 really misunderstand me." 
 
 Nugent said no more, but asked to see his sister, and 
 climbed up the stairs to the small bed-room above. 
 
 He found Lucy in a very low state, scarcely able to 
 speak, and soon took leave of her, after kindly pressing 
 her hand. As he descended the precipitous stairs, he 
 heard confused but earnest whispers below. 
 
 " I tell you he is up-stairs, coming down this very 
 moment ; you must go ! " 
 
 " George — be easy ; be easy," replied a voice some- 
 what indistinct in its utterance. " I'm all right : I say 
 I'm all right. Give us a light, and a drink of something- 
 cool." 
 
 " Go, I say I " urged Weston. Just then Nugent alighted 
 in the room, and beheld a rough-looking, strong-built man, 
 who, resisting the efforts of Weston, had seated himself 
 by the fire, and sticking his pipe into the coals, com- 
 menced puffing tobacco-smoke from his mouth and
 
 THE TWO PEISOXEES. 61 
 
 nostrils in hnoce volumes. Reco<niizIncr in this half- 
 drunken visitor Jack Harrill, the husband of ^Margaret, 
 Nugent looked at him with grave displeasure. The 
 man, slowly comprehending who it was that was look- 
 ing at him, sat in stupid pei-plexity. " Put out that 
 light !" exclaimed Xugent ; " there is a sick woman up- 
 stairs." 
 
 " The smoke will hurt your sister," he added, turning 
 to Weston, who was recrardinor Harrill with the strongest 
 disgust, but nevertheless did not interfere. 
 
 After a moment's delay, the man seemed suddenly to 
 understand what was passing, and who spoke to him. 
 He jumped up and bolted out of the house, muttering 
 a curse between his teeth. 
 
 " So," said Nugent, " you still cling to your mischie- 
 vous associates. Is it for such Mendship as that of this 
 fellow Hanill, that you have sacrificed my friendship 
 and good--svill ? Can you find any compensation for the 
 ruin of yoiu- prospects in associating with a notorious 
 drunkard, or in spouting sedition at beer-shops, or in 
 stiU worse employments?" Nugent added, pointing 
 to a soiled pack of cards, which Harrill had left on the 
 chair where he had been sitting. 
 
 " I am the victim of circumstances," answered Weston 
 in a low voice, whilst he pressed his hand to his brow. 
 
 It is our habit pretty constantly to lay the blame of 
 our follies or misdeeds upon " circumstances : " it is a 
 large, vague, convenient phrase. What Nugent would
 
 62 EELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 have replied we know not, for at that moment a sudden 
 scream for assistance interrupted their conversation. 
 " Is it Lucy ? " cried Nugent. 
 
 " No," said the other ; " it was in the road, outside." 
 They rushed out of the cottage, and saw, about 
 a hundred yards down the road, a young lady, in much 
 terror and distress, endeavouring to escape from the man 
 ilarrill, who, v/hether in earnest or sottish jest, strove 
 to possess himself of a small flat basket she was carrying 
 on her arm. This would have been a very easy matter ; 
 but the strings of the basket were entangled round her 
 wrist, and she was thus not only unable to extricate 
 herself from his grasp, but was suffering real pain from 
 the violent efforts he made to pull the basket away 
 from her. Nugent shouted loudly to the man to let go 
 his hold, and at the same time sprang towards him with 
 
 a menacmo^ gesture. 
 
 His energy was not diminished on perceiving that the 
 young lady was no other than Gertrude. 
 
 The man immediately let go the basket, and turning 
 full upon Nugent, his face crimson with rage and excite- 
 ment, yelled out — 
 
 " Yes, yes — thou'rt the man that sneaked to my house 
 this morning, and wants to clap me in quod again ! In 
 for a penny, in for a pound. So, here goes ! " -vsath which 
 he seized a stone to fling at Nugent ; but, ere he could 
 do so, Nugent's strong hand had got liim by the throat. 
 The man was inflamed but not disabled by liquor ; and
 
 THE TWO PEISOXERS. 63 
 
 his brute strength would have been formidable to an 
 antagonist less resolute and less powerful than 
 Nugent. A few seconds of fierce struggle, the two men 
 swinging each other about the road amidst a cloud of 
 dust; and then Harrill lay panting on his back, and 
 Nugent kneeling on his chest to keep him down. 
 
 Gertrude, at first too Mghtened to do or say any thing, 
 ran to the lodge for aid. Xow, the old lodge-keeper 
 had in fact been watching the encounter fi:-om his 
 bed-room window; but prudently waited until Nugent 
 had got the upper hand before taking a decided 
 part in the engagement. He hastily anticipated Ger- 
 trude's appeal, and issued forth from his den with an 
 air of great determination, and armed with an aged 
 gun, which might have been a formidable weapon if 
 it had possessed a lock. 
 
 " Andrew ! Help ! Quick ! Do you mean to let us be 
 murdered in cold blood ? " 
 
 " I'm a coming, miss," repKed the old man. " Don't 
 be afeard. I'll peitect ye — I'U pertect ye !" 
 
 Weston, healing Nugent calling him, now emerged 
 from his cottage, where he also had remained quietly 
 ensconced durin^r the contest. 
 
 " Here, help me to hold this fellow, some of you. 
 Where have you been? Why did ycu not stand by 
 me ? " exclaimed Nuo-ent. 
 
 o 
 
 " Lucy was frightened, and caUed me back. She was 
 nearly off in a faint."
 
 B4 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Harrill meanwhile began to growl out assurances that 
 he gave in, that 'twas all a joke, that he was main sorry, 
 and promised to be as quiet as a lamb. Nugent therefore 
 suffered him to rise, having taken the precaution of 
 pinioning his arms with some rope which the old man 
 procured. 
 
 He then turned to Gertrude with an air of anxious 
 concern, and asked her whether she was not hurt and 
 frin^htened. 
 
 That young lady, now that the moment of excitement 
 had passed, was indeed pale and exhausted, and felt as 
 if a good cry would do her good. But she repressed her 
 tears, and, taking Nugent' s arm, accepted his escort 
 home. Harrill was left at the lodge, in charge of Weston 
 and the old man. 
 
 " Pray, tell me," said Nugent, " how this unfortunate 
 affair began." 
 
 " Mamma sent me into the village," began Gertrude, 
 " to visit a poor person." 
 
 "Your maid Lucy, no doubt?" interposed Nugent, 
 whilst his countenance exhibited real pleasure at the 
 thought of Gertrude's recollection of her. 
 
 "Yes," replied Gertrude, slightly blushing, for she knew 
 she had forgotten, or not thought it necessary, to call for 
 nearly a week. " I was going to ask after Lucy, and 
 p;ive her some little comforts the housekeeper put into 
 that basket for me. I generally send one of the maids," 
 she honestly added ; for she did not rehsh unmerited
 
 THE TWO PEISONEES. 65 
 
 praise, ** To-day I went myself, partly because mamma 
 wished it, partly because I was really anxious about the 
 poor thing. Well, just as I got outside the lodge gates, 
 that fierce-looking man came and stood right in my way, 
 and proposed I should give him something to diink. I 
 thought he had had too much already, and tried to run 
 back to the lodge ; but he seized my basket, declaring it 
 was too heavy for me to carry. Then the string got 
 twisted round my hand, and he pulled and pulled, and 
 could not get it away, and, searching with his other hand 
 in his pocket for a knife, swore he would have the 
 basket if he had to cut off my arm for it. I had not 
 screamed tiU that moment, but then I screamed louder 
 than I ever did in my life, and, to my inexpressible 
 delight, I saw you come out of that cottage, and rush 
 to my assistance !" 
 
 " I wish the feUow had never come into the place. 
 We must try and get rid of him." 
 
 "You are very pale, sir," said Gertrude, looking com- 
 passionately at Nugent. " I hope you are not hurt." 
 
 " Oh, it's nothing — nothing !" rejoined her companion. 
 " Do you know, ]\Iiss Usherwood, why it is that Lucy's 
 brother, George Weston, is so intimate with a coarse 
 ruffianly feUow like HarriU ? It seems very strange." 
 
 " Lucy is so mysterious about her brother," answered 
 Gertrude. " She never likes his name to be mentioned, 
 and yet she seems tenderly attached to him. I have 
 heard her say her brother hates HarriU, and thinks him 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 a desperately bad character; so I was all the more 
 alarmed when you called out that name in the struggle 
 just now — for I did not know till then who it was." 
 
 " And yet the two men are so much together,'* said 
 Nugent in an absent sort of way, as he and Gertrude 
 advanced slowly along the carriage drive towards the 
 house. 
 
 " I am sure," said Gertrude, rather abruptly — " I am 
 sure you are very much hurt I You are so deadly pale. 
 There is a seat yonder; pray, sit down and rest. 
 Do not be afraid to lean on my arm, for I am very 
 strong." 
 
 And Miss Usherwood led Nugent, who, giddy and 
 faint, felt wholly unable to make any reply, slowly 
 towards the seat. 
 
 ** I am so very sorry," added Gertrude, her beautiful 
 eyes full of tears. " I was afraid you were hurt. Just 
 smell this eau-de-Cologne ; it will refresh you." 
 
 But at this moment she felt her companion's arm, which 
 was resting on hers, slide helplessly from her, and down 
 went Nugent on the grass, in a fainting condition^ 
 
 Gertrude's first impulse was to recommence the 
 screaming process, but a moment's reflection suggested 
 that she might do something more useful ; so she bathed 
 Nugent's forehead with eau-de-Cologne, and, undoing 
 her basket, took out a flask of wine she had intended 
 for Lucy Weston, and poured a little down his throat. 
 Meantime the recumbent position, the coolness of the
 
 THE TWO PEISONEES. 67 
 
 grass, and these remedies combined, had a good deal 
 revived Nugent. He was able to say faintly — 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ^Miss Usherwood ; I am sorry to 
 frighten you so, and give you aU this trouble." 
 
 !Mis3 Usherwood, however, could not say much in reply, 
 for she was endeavouring at that moment to bathe Nu- 
 gent's temples, vrithout at the same time letting her 
 tears fall on his face, which she foimd rather difficult to 
 manage. They were tears, partly arising from compas- 
 sion, and partly from all the agitation she had gone 
 through. As for compassion, Nugent had Httle need of 
 any thing of the sort. It seemed to him lying there, 
 helpless and faint, with so sweet a creature affording him 
 aid in the gentlest, tenderest manner possible, and know- 
 ing all the time that he really had been of some ser- 
 vice to her in the encounter with HarriU where he had 
 received his present hurt — it seemed to him lying there, 
 with Gertrude bathing his temples and fanning his face 
 with her hat, which she had hastily taken off for the 
 purpose, that he had never been so happy in the whole 
 course of his life. He was decidedly annoyed when he 
 felt himself getting better, especially as Gertrude no 
 sooner perceived the deadly paleness passing away, and 
 his eyes losing their glazed, languid expression, than she 
 became suddenly aware of the singular appearance they 
 must present to the uninitiated public. Therefore, 
 placing the eau-de-Cologne within Nugent's reach, and 
 driving away the sheep, who were now from all parts of
 
 68 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 the park approaching the spot with faces expressive 
 of grave curiosity, Gertrude hastened homeward as 
 fast as she could, to desire assistance to be forthwith 
 despatched to him. 
 
 The fact v/as, that Nugent, in his rough encounter 
 with Harrill, had received a severe kick on the ankle, the 
 pain from which was so great, that, having sustained it 
 with rigorous determination as long as he could, in the 
 hope of enabling Gertrude to reach home without 
 delay, nature at length gave way, and he sank faintmg 
 to the ground in the manner described. 
 
 In a few minutes Nugent found himself lifted into a 
 low pony-carriage of Lady Maud's, that chanced for- 
 tunately to be at the front door when Gertrude reached 
 the house ; and, despite his remonstrances, driven, not to 
 the Manor Farm, whither he begged to be taken, but up 
 to Beaumont-house, from which they were not now 
 more than a couple of hundred yards distant. Here he 
 was half carried and half supported (for the attempt to 
 walk immediately brought back the sensation of faint- 
 ness) into the entrance-hall, and placed upon a luxurious 
 sofa. At his first appearance there was a general rush 
 of the domestics to tender their aid; amongst them 
 the housekeeper — bearing a bottle containing, at a low 
 estimate, a gallon of home-made vinegar — was particularly 
 conspicuous. Paine and the upper housemaid hovered 
 round him, contending for the honour of presenting him 
 with a smelling-bottle of the size of a thimble. In
 
 THE TWO PRISONERS. 69 
 
 the background loomed two or three figures carrying 
 jugs of water, which they seemed extremely desirous of 
 emptying over his head ; whilst the butler's voice was 
 heard proclaiming, ia accents of authority, that " The 
 right thiQg for the gentleman is a wine-glass of brandy 
 'neat.'" Lady Maud, however, soon arrived on the 
 ecene, and the crowd immediately melted away as if by 
 magic. She was infinitely kind and soothing, thanked 
 him in a low voice, while she arranged the cushions for 
 his head to rest on, for his heroic conduct in defence of 
 her dearest child — conduct she should never cease to be 
 grateful for ; assured him that Mr. Grierson the surgeon 
 had been sent for, that a room was preparing for him, 
 that Mr. Ushenvood and herself could not possibly allow 
 him to leave the house, that common humanity forbade 
 it, that the feelings of gratitude pervading the whole 
 household would recoil from such a preposterous idea. 
 So Nugent made up his mind to succumb, and somehow 
 or other rather approved of the arrangement.
 
 70 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 
 
 Mr. Usherwood is sitting over his wine in the large 
 well-fiirnished dining-room of Beaumont-house. An 
 elegant but not profuse dessert is spread on the table 
 before him ; his hands are clasped over his knees, his 
 head is slightly bowed ; he is in the attitude of one 
 endeavouring to concentrate his thoughts upon a subject 
 which he does not entirely comprehend. 
 
 This gentleman inherited a handsome fortune from 
 his father, amassed in mercantile pursuits. As soon 
 as he was his own master, Mr. Usherwood relinquished 
 business, and devoted himself to enjoying the wealth 
 collected by the upright industry of a whole life. He 
 had been advised by one best qualified to advise 
 him (his father) not to abandon business, but, if only 
 for the sake of occupation, to adhere to it for some 
 time longer. Mr. Usherwood could not entirely ac- 
 quiesce in this view of the subject. He bought land ; 
 built a house; married a lady of rank and beauty; 
 enjoyed the good things he owed to the labours of 
 another ; and exchanged a life of vigour and activity for
 
 DEATH m THE COTTAGE. 71 
 
 one of efFeminacy and self-indulgence. He grew sleek 
 and indolent, curious in port-wine, partial to side-dishes, 
 acquired a weakness for the most comfortable comer by 
 the fireside ; was invisible of a morning till ten o'clock ; 
 took a solemn after-dinner nap of an hour^s duration, 
 and read daily the whole of the advertisements in the 
 Times, He lounged through life in his ample arm-chair, 
 like a large oyster in its nether shell. 
 
 On the present occasion Mr. Usherwood was not alone. 
 Gertrude had quitted the room ; but Lady Maud, as was 
 her wont when there was any important matter to 
 discuss, remained at the table, and in a low sweet voice 
 thus addressed her husband : — 
 
 " My love, what you say contains, as it always does 
 when you choose to exert yourself, much truth. Under 
 ordinary circumstances I should be disposed to adhere to 
 the laisser faire principle, and not precipitate, even in the 
 gentlest manner, an affair of this nature ■" 
 
 " Well, now, your measures seem to me," exclaimed 
 Mr. Usherwood, " what I call strong — decidedly strong!" 
 
 " But," proceeded Lady Maud, calmly waving her small 
 white hand to deprecate interruption, " in our present 
 uneasy position, with the shares of the Rentworth Grand 
 Junction Railway twenty-five per cent, below their ori- 
 ginal value, and still I fear inclined to drop " 
 
 Mr. Usherwood groaned, and helped himself to a 
 glass of port — 
 
 " Still, I fear, inclined to drop lower and lower, I
 
 72 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 feel I must make an effort for my dear child's sake. 
 Consider for a moment what would be our feelings if 
 worse trials should come upon us — reduced fortune and 
 declining years — and we should see our darling penni- 
 less and unmarried ! " 
 
 " Poor dear ! " said Mr. Usherwood ; " poor thing — 
 and she brought up in such luxury ! " 
 
 '^ Our affairs, my love, are not in a pleasant state." 
 
 "I know it, Maud, — I know it now! You opened 
 my eyes. Would I had always taken your advice I 
 Oh! those vile, rascally railways— those man-traps for the 
 unwary — why did I meddle with themi " 
 
 " My dear, I am not free from blame in this matter. 
 I had a habit of urging you to take a more active part 
 in society and politics; and you thought to surprise me 
 by joining the Rentworth Kailway speculation, and 
 repairing our finances whilst you won my approba- 
 tion. If you had consulted me ^" 
 
 "Ah!" said her husband, "I was a presumptuous 
 blockhead! If I had consulted you before I took my 
 two hundred shares, and put my name down as a director ! 
 Yes — yes, I was tenderly led by the nose !" 
 
 " Don't fret, dear," said Lady Maud — rising up and 
 imprinting a gentle kiss on his forehead, darkened by 
 an uncustomary frown; "it is no use brooding over 
 the past." 
 
 " Maud, dear, what would become of me but for you ? " 
 he replied, pressing her hand, which she then quietly
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 
 
 •m 
 
 disengaged from his grasp, and, sitting down, continued 
 her conversation. 
 
 " Our guest is a most eligible man in every respect — 
 a gentleman, a Christian, and a descendant, as I before 
 said, of the Tyrrells of Richard the Third's time." 
 
 " But at present destitute of much cash." 
 
 "My dear, I have reason to believe he has saved, 
 and has invested what he has saved." 
 
 "In the Eentworth Grand Junction Eailwayl" 
 asked Usherwood. 
 
 " No, my dear— a solid investment. And then, as I 
 have before said, there is aU the Clinton property actu- 
 ally on the brink of falling into his hands !" 
 
 " But, my dear, I must bargain for one proviso. I 
 must, indeed!" And !Mr. Usherwood resumed his con- 
 centrated attitude, and summoned a really resolute 
 expression into his countenance. "I must not have 
 my httle girl's inclinations forced. I wiU not permit it. 
 I put my absolute veto upon it." 
 
 And then, his warmth rapidly cooling as he met 
 Lady Maud's glance, he added—" I would really pre- 
 fer it should not be done, my dear; — please don't, my 
 dear — I ask it as a favour, merely as a favour, my dear." 
 
 Lady Maud smiled graciously and replied, "Dear 
 Richard — do you think I am going to act the haughty 
 countess of the days of chivalry, and drag my beloved 
 child to the altar by the hair of her head? I am con- 
 vinced she likes our friend."
 
 74 BELOW THE SUEPACE, 
 
 "Why, she has not spoken to him half a dozen 
 times ! " 
 
 "My dear, so much the better. We are always in- 
 clined to feel most interested in those whom we see the 
 least, but of whom we hear the most. Miss Beverley 
 admires our guest beyond every thing; thinks him charm- 
 ing, noble, mysterious, and I don't know what. And 
 she tells Gertrude all the good he does, from the drain- 
 ing of Mash wood Moor to the establishment of adult 
 evening schools ; describes how he carried poor Hobbs, 
 when ill of the scarlet fever, out of his cottage 
 when the thatch had caught fire; tells how, once 
 upon a time, he acted the village Hampden, and 
 saved Widow Mills' garden from being thrown into 
 a field Sir Eliot Prichard was newly fencing; tella 
 how kindly he looks after his men, and I don't 
 know what else ; and Gertrude thinks him the heau- 
 ideal of the country gentleman; but then, poor dear, 
 she has seen very few others as yet, that's true." 
 
 " But, my dear, she may admire him, but nothing 
 more." 
 
 ^' I have my own opinion, my love," rejoined Lady 
 Maud ; " leave things to me. I would not, for all the 
 wealth of Cahfornia, marry her to any one against her 
 own inchnations." 
 
 " This adventure of to-day was certainly propitious," 
 said her husband. 
 
 " Providential, indeed!" rejoined Lady Maud gravely.
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 75 
 
 At that moment the butler entered the room hastilv. 
 
 and exclaimed — " K joii please, mj lady — if you please, 
 bItj he's oiFI he's escaped !" 
 
 "What, llx. Nugent?" asked Usherwood. 
 
 Lady Maud blushed. 
 
 " The man, sir, who insulted our young lady — the man 
 Harrill, my lady " 
 
 " Oh, the T^Tetch ! " cried Lady Maud. "Well, send 
 to Colonel Clair, and ask him to order the constables 
 to go in pursuit. I wish they could lodge him safe in 
 jaU." 
 
 "Let us have coffee, William, and I should like a 
 small glass of maraschino, WiUiam," interrupted Mr. 
 Usherwood. " And, WiUiam, bring me the supplement 
 of the Times, I have not quite finished it." 
 
 They withdrew to the drawing-room, where Nugent, 
 who had been reclining on the sofa, and partak- 
 ing of a hght dinner of chicken-broth and a wafer 
 biscuit, was discovered, endeavouring with imperfect 
 success to walk across the room supporting himself on 
 two chau's. 
 
 He exclaimed, in a tone of some excitement, "I 
 think I could ride my grey pony, if you would kindly 
 send some one to the farm for him. Lady Maud !" 
 
 " Dear ]Mr. Nugent you must be out of your senses ! 
 You must not move an inch from that sofa till you go 
 to bed, which ought to be — allow me to suggest — at an 
 early hour."
 
 76 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 " My love," slie added to Mr. Uslierwood, wLlo had 
 comfortably established Mmself on Nugent's sofa ; " my 
 love, you wiU find the arm-chair yonder a great deal 
 more convenient for you." 
 
 Nugent, who was suffering much pain, was not sorry 
 to resume his place, which Mr. Usherwood relinquished 
 with convulsive alacrity. For the latter was by no 
 means deficient in natural politeness, though a little 
 forgetful of others when his own comfort was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 " I was in hopes," said Nugent, " that I could have 
 started in pursuit of the fellow. He cannot have got 
 far, and, with the aid of the constable and some of 
 my men, I am pretty sure he could have been inter- 
 cepted." 
 
 " Oh, pray, never mind him — pray, never mind him ! 
 what consequence is it 1 " cried Gertrude, who had just 
 come in ; "I only hope he wiU go a long way off." 
 
 "There is no doubt of that," said Nugent. "But 
 what vexes me is Weston's extraordinary conduct. I 
 really thought better of him !" 
 
 " Well, and what has he done ? " asked Lady Maud. 
 
 " Why, I left Harrill in charge of old Andrew at the 
 lodge, and this Weston. Plarrill's arms were weU pin- 
 ioned with a rope. In a quarter of an hour, when the 
 constable arrived, there was nobody to be found in the 
 lodge but the old man tied to the leg of the table, and 
 gagged!''
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 77 
 
 " And has Weston disappeared, too, then ? " 
 
 "No, lie came back just after the constable had 
 released Andrew. The story is, that Harrill prevailed 
 on him to go and let his wife know what had happened, 
 as he said the shock would kill her if it was told her on 
 a sudden. So Weston looked to see if the cord was :^ast 
 round the fellow's arms, and tied another knot or two, 
 and then starts off. Directly he is gone, Harrill shps 
 his arms out of the cord, seizes the old man, gags him, 
 ties him in a heap to the leg of his own table, and 
 then makes off as fast as he can." 
 
 "Rather suspicious behaviour of this Mr. George 
 Weston," said Lady Maud ; " Paine never liked 
 him." 
 
 " It was very kind, at all events, to go and tell the 
 poor sick wife," interposed Gertrude. 
 
 "Paine never liked Weston," again observed Lady 
 Maud. "I have found out, my dear," she added to 
 Gertrude, "that he quarrelled with the servants; and 
 that is the reason he has not come lately for any thing 
 •for Lucy. He was shown into the servants' hall whilst 
 Paine went for some currant jelly, and what should he do 
 but commence arguing with the coachman, a very steady 
 man, and a conservative both in politics and religion. 
 The footman and some of the maids joined the contro- 
 versy ; so, when Paine returned, the whole place was in 
 an uproar, and Paine was obliged to tell Weston, civilly 
 you know, and as it were in confidence; that he was
 
 78 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 nothing more nor less than an ^Atheist.' This so affronted 
 Weston that he left the house in a rage, and vowed he 
 would not enter it again, unless Paine made him a 
 written apology." 
 
 " I am not much surprised at this," said Nugent. " I 
 rather took him by the hand when he first came ; but he 
 had a sad love for getting people about him, and 
 speechifying to them on all subjects, but especially on 
 religion and politics. I set my face against this ; but he 
 would persist, and at length established at Okenham 
 and other places round, what he called a ' philanthropic 
 club,' where he gave penny lectures and spouted to his 
 heart's content. He is clever enough, knows something 
 about medicine, and would make a good farrier or 
 veterinary, but love of excitement leads him on, and 
 will not let him rest. Indeed, they do say that the 
 members of his club vary the evening's entertain- 
 ment by gambling, and have added cards to Char- 
 tism. However this may be, I have ceased to take 
 much notice of him, and, indeed, warn my people 
 aofainst him." 
 
 " That's the blessing of a free country ! " exclaimed 
 Mr. Usherw^ood ; " why, such a nuisance as this man 
 ought to be crushed like a noxious insect ! What's the 
 use of your Boards of Health, and that sort of thing ? 
 We want a Board of Morality. Why, a fellow like this 
 is a walking pestilence ! Talk of removal of nuisances, 
 indeed! Bah I" And Mr. Usherwood folded up the
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 79 
 
 Times with a severe energy, muttering to himself, "I 
 should like to put that sort of thing down with a strong 
 hand, and no mistake. We want Louis Napoleon over 
 here. So we do ! " 
 
 Lady ^laud now insisted that Nugent should retire 
 to rest, and accordingly the butler and the coachman of 
 " conservative views " were summoned, and with their 
 assistance he was helped out of the room and up- 
 stairs to bed. 
 
 Nugent did not pass a very tranquil night. Li addi- 
 tion to the novelty of the situation and the change of 
 scene, his ankle became more painflil ; and, in order to 
 check the tendency to inflammation, he occupied himself 
 every now and then in applying the lotion prescribed by 
 the surgeon — a ceremony not favourable to regular 
 slumbers. His mind, participating in the somewhat 
 feverish condition of his body, restlessly canvassed 
 the events of the past day, and the curious change ot 
 aspect exhibited by his present host and hostess, whom 
 a few days ago he had supposed to be cold and discour- 
 teous towards him, and whom he found now all kindness 
 and civility. Towards morning he dropped uncon- 
 sciously to sleep, and slept for an hour or two. He 
 was awakened rather suddenly by a sustained shrill 
 noise close to his ear, which he at first imagined was 
 the noise of his steam-engine, combined with the lowing 
 and bleating of all the sheep and cattle on his farm. 
 After a minute or two it occurred to him that it must
 
 80 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 be some instrument of music in the adjoining room. 
 It was indeed the sound of a duet on the piano, which 
 the two girls were industriously practising. They 
 had not played many bars, when the voice of Ger- 
 trude was heard in grave expostulation, and the music 
 abruptly paused. The young ladies entered rather 
 rebelliously into an argument with their sister, and the 
 clamour of sweet voices was almost as disturbing as 
 the ^^ Bell Duet." Presently another voice was added 
 to the chorus. It was Paine, who entered ex- 
 claiming — 
 
 " If you please, young ladies, Lady Maud desires you 
 will not on no account play the piano wMst !Mr. 
 Nugent is asleep next door." 
 
 Then came the addition of Miss Beverley's authori- 
 tative voice ; that lady descending into the battle-field, 
 flushed with the combined effects of sleep and wrath, 
 and attired in a dressing-gown resembling a lady 
 abbess's robes. "My dears, I am surprised at your 
 want of reflection I It is really unfeeling. Mr. Nugent 
 is seriously ill. You will certainly awake him. Shut 
 the piano, and learn your geography." The sounds then 
 gradually subsided, and presently all was quiet; but 
 Nugent was effectually roused, and could no longer 
 sleep. 
 
 In an hour or two the surgeon arrived, and looked so 
 exceedingly cheerful over the injured ankle, that Nugent 
 thought every thing must be most satisfactory, although
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 81 
 
 he felt as if kis foot was slowly roasting before a mode- 
 rate fire. 
 
 " Well, sir, how is it ? " asked Nugent. 
 
 "Why," replied the surgeon, Mr. Grierson, with a 
 bright smile ; " it's exceedingly bad. We must keep 
 you in bed, sir, and leech you." Nugent tried to look 
 disappointed. He said he had thought to get back to 
 his farm that evening at latest. 
 
 " That would be imprudent," said Mr. Grierson ; 
 " scarcely judicious." 
 
 "But," asked his patient, "why so? Would there 
 be much risk ? " ^Ir. Grierson, bending forwards with 
 an agreeable expression of face, as if imparting in 
 confidence some very pleasing intelligence, answered — 
 " Merely, sir, that I thmk you would probably lose your 
 leg ! We should have to operate, sir." 
 
 And, so saying, he made a rapid Httle flourish with 
 his closed right hand, as if he was performing a private 
 rehearsal of the surgical performance alluded to. 
 Nugent had not a word more to say ; and JVIr. Grierson, 
 with a joyous eye and a promise to look in that evening, 
 quickly stepped out of the room and into the passage, 
 where Lady Maud waylaid him, find subjected him to 
 a strictly private interrogation as to Nugent's condition ; 
 the butler all the time accidentally standing behind the 
 hall-door; Paine accidentally leaning her ear against 
 the keyhole of the hbrary door opposite ; and the two 
 young ladies boldly advancing their heads through the 
 
 VOL. I. a
 
 «2 BELOW THE SUKFACE 
 
 school-room door — an apparition wliich was suddenly 
 and abruptly terminated by Miss Beverley pulling them 
 indignantly back, and giving them three pages of 
 French translation as an imposition. 
 
 The leeches proved so efficacious, that Nugent 
 felt better in an hour or two, and partook of tea 
 and dry toast on an elegant silver salver, borne 
 by the fair hands of Paine herself, who after knock- 
 ing three times at the door, and three times receiv- 
 ing Nugent's invitation to enter, coyly opened it, 
 and approached the bedside with the hesitation of 
 a skirmishing force advancing into an enemy's 
 country. 
 
 Presently afterwards came a low whispering and 
 shuffling of feet outside the door, followed by a knock, 
 and then Mr. Usherwood entered the room somewhat 
 impetuously, as if dexterously impelled from behind. 
 Recovering liimself with an effort, he adopted a sick- 
 room walk and attitude, and approached the bedside 
 partially on his toes, with a face of mild anxiety, and 
 making an abominable creaking with his shoes. He 
 spoke little, and that in set sentences, as if learnt by 
 rote the same morning. Then pressed Nugent's hand, 
 shuddered at the dry toast and tea, and creaked out of 
 the room. 
 
 After these interruptions Nugent fell asleep, and did 
 not wake for some hours, when he found the day drawing 
 to a close. Outside his window he heard the musical
 
 DEATH IX THE COTTAGE. 83 
 
 voices of the young ladies, and, managing to get across 
 the room, he cautiously looked through the shutters, and 
 beheld Gertrude and her sister eno-acred in oratherino: 
 flowers. She had a brilliant colour, for she was fresh 
 from a long walk, and looked unusually pretty in her 
 cottage bonnet and smart little apron with pockets in 
 it. After gazing at her some time, Xugent fancied he 
 heard a noise at the door, and scrambled back to bed 
 with an air of guilty precipitation. A few minutes 
 elapsed, and three solemn knocks were heard at the door, 
 with a pause between each. Nugent, having three 
 times replied "Come inl" the fonn of Paine became 
 visible, and gradually invested the bed, bearing a tray 
 on which was soup, a decanter of iced water, a second 
 instalment of dry toast, and a tastefully arranged 
 bouquet of flowers. Having deposited the same on a 
 table by the bed, Paine withdrew. Xugent, we fear, 
 did not much care for flowers ; but on the present occasion 
 he seemed to take to them more kindly, and held the 
 nosegay in his hand for a few minutes in deep medita- 
 tion. He then put them on the pillow Deside him, and 
 condescended to take some soup. 
 
 Soon the gathering gloom of twilight began to settle 
 upon the scene around; the distant, muffled noises 
 of a large house subsided more and more, and all was 
 silent except the sounds of gentle merriment in the 
 not far-ofl" dra^\ing-room, where Lady Maud and her 
 daughters and Lliss Beverley were sitting; sounds
 
 84 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 which spoke of a pleasant home, and social affec- 
 tions, and the sjmpatliies of hearts that trust in each 
 other, and vibrate in unison with every change and 
 chance of daily life. Nugent's mind reverted to 
 his own vacant and solitary dwelling, and he could 
 not deny there was something melancholy in the 
 contrast. His imagination roved over the farm and 
 over the homestead and over the Manor-house itself, 
 but shrunk back, as it were, from entering that sitting- 
 room, once lighted up by the presence of those he loved, 
 but now so silent, so perpetually the same; and he 
 began to feel almost a distaste for the home of his youth, 
 so solemn and quiet within, so busy and clamorous 
 without. He thought that, as he sat at night in his 
 librar}^ examining accounts, or turning over the leaves 
 of a book, when nothing stiiTcd except some hungry rat 
 or enterprising mouse, and he could hear the very ticking 
 of his watch; when, even outside the Manor-house, all 
 was silent except the occasional faint baying of a dog, 
 or the feeble tinkling of a sheep-bell far away, or the 
 sio-hing of the wind through the leafy elms, he thought 
 it would be well at such times to catch the sounds of 
 pleasant voices, such as those he now heard, in some 
 distant apartment ; to know that there w^ere kind faces, 
 and warm hearts, and minds that felt with him and for 
 him, somewhere not far off — somewhere under the same 
 roof with himself. 
 
 Suddenly, however^ his meditations were interrupted
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 85 
 
 by a ring at the house door, and the entrance of ^Ir. 
 Grierson. That gentleman pronounced him to be 
 going on very well, and leaving some effervescing 
 powders, enveloped in sky-blue paper, to allay any 
 febrile tendencies, cheerfully bade him good-bye and 
 departed for the night ; was again waylaid by Lady 
 Maud, and this time transported to the drawing- 
 room, where he drank a cup of tea with hilarity, and 
 talked in the most inspiriting accents. Insomuch 
 that Mr. ITsherwood woke up from his nap, imagining 
 there was some capital joke going on; but finding Mr. 
 Grierson was only explaining the uses and mode of pre- 
 paration of a linseed poultice, relapsed once more into 
 calm slumber. 
 
 Several days elapsed before the unexpected, yet not 
 wholly unwelcome, guest at Beaumont-house, was 
 so far recovered as to be able to put his foot to the 
 ground ; and, as long as this was the case, Mr. Grierson 
 gaily but emphatically forbade his removing to his own 
 residence. Nugent began to be a little uneasy at being 
 thus condemned to extort hospitality from those to 
 whom he by no means desned to be under any obliga- 
 tion ; yet was almost surprised to find himself soothed 
 and gratified by Lady Maud's kind offices, and gravely 
 asked himself whether, after all, she was not a lady 
 of genuine kindness of heart, and great discrimination 
 of character ? 
 
 Every morning his bailiff called upon him for instruc-
 
 SQ BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 tions, and reported the state of things at the farm. 
 Next Mr. Usherwood paid him a visit of a few minutes 
 duration, and talked invariably and exclusively of agri- 
 cultural matters, having got up the subject out of the 
 "Gardener's Chronicle" expressly for the occasion. 
 Then the butler made his appearance \vith a bill of 
 fare from the housekeeper's room, out of which he was 
 invited to make a selection for his own private benefit. 
 Over this bill of fare Nugent pored somewhat anx- 
 iously, a little confused by the array of French words, 
 and not liking the idea of " Blanquette of fowl," or 
 " Cotelettes d'agneau en papillotes," and generally ended 
 by requesting a mutton-cutlet, plain; on which the 
 butler invariably muttered something, that we presume 
 was meant for "au naturel," but which sounded like 
 " oh, natural ! " and left the room as if he pitied, but made 
 allow^ance for, Nugent's simplicity. Various books and 
 newspapers w^ere conveyed to him, and piled upon a 
 table by his sofa. Mr. Usherwood fished out, for his 
 recreation, an agricultural book or two from the library, 
 about a century old, w^hich described a newly-imported 
 tree, termed the larch, and spoke doubtfully of the pos- 
 sibility of turnip culture any where but in gardens. In 
 the evening, tea was brought to him, and every day a 
 pretty bouquet of flow^ers was placed upon the tray. 
 Soon afterw^ards, Miss Beverley sat down to her piano 
 in the adjoining room, and sang one or two of her best 
 songs, -with the charitable intention of cheering his
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 87 
 
 'spirits; but hearing one evening from the girls (who 
 had ascertained it from Paine), that at that precise 
 time Mr. Nugent made a point of indulging in half 
 an hour's slumber, she relinquished the practice, 
 and for the rest of that particular evening was deep 
 in "A Voice from the School-room/' up-stairs in her 
 bed-room. 
 
 It was about a week after Nugent's involuntary arrival 
 at Beaumont-house, and the day being fine, Mss 
 Beverley and Gertrude started for a walk. Lady Maud 
 insisted on Gertrude's never leaving the grounds without 
 an escort in the shape of one of the men-servants; at all 
 events for the present, whilst the formidable Harrill was 
 at large. 
 
 On the present occasion it feU to the lot of our 
 respectable friend the coachman to discharge this duty, 
 to which, as he informed the groom and footman in con- 
 fidence, he made no sort of objection, seeing it was his 
 young lady; " othenvase," he added with a portentous 
 shake of the head, " his principles would have stood in 
 the way of any such a thing." Coachmen, and grooms, 
 and stable-boys, seem generally as much disinchned to 
 Walk upon two legs as if they were centaurs; and when 
 sent on a message for a few hundred yards along the 
 high-road, will be pretty sure to issue forth on a 
 favourite pony, or on a valuable hunter, which of course 
 they say needs half-an-hour's exercise at that particu- 
 lar juncture. The ladies then saUied forth, followed
 
 88 BELOW THE SUKFACE. 
 
 at a short distance by the coachman, whose deport- 
 ment was one of gentlemanly resignation, and whose 
 polished top-boots, as they glittered in the distance, 
 seemed to be altogether puzzled at finding themselves 
 scuffling along the dusty ground, instead of dang- 
 ling on each side of a horse, or serenely pendant from 
 the box-seat. After traversing several fields, and 
 once forcing their way through a broken hedge, a feat 
 which the coaclnnan performed with some difficulty 
 at the expense of a slight scratch on the nose, but 
 without moving a muscle of his countenance, they 
 sauntered along a pleasant green and shady lane, till 
 they came to the main road, and presently to a gate, 
 where Miss Beverley suddenly stopped, and exclaimed, 
 " This is Mr. Nugent's farm, I do believe ! Why, how 
 curious we should have got here!" 
 
 " I am sure I do not know," replied Gertrude. " I 
 only wish we were not so far from home." 
 
 "Is it not a sad pity the beautiful old house was 
 destroyed by fire? The avenue looks so melancholy 
 now it stands alone. The old elms seem moving 
 in perpetual procession in quest of the departed 
 mansion." 
 
 "Why does he not rebuild it?" asked Gertrude. 
 
 " My dear — think of the thousands it would cost ! I 
 have no doubt it will be done some day, but at present 
 I suppose it is impossible." 
 
 "Well, I am tired of standing here," said Gertrude;
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 811 
 
 " I am tired and thirsty. Could one get a drop of water 
 at the house yonder, or was it all used to put out the 
 fire you speak of? " 
 
 They entered the field, and reached the lawn ; .send- 
 ing John to procure a glass of water, whilst they walked 
 about and admired the pleasant garden and grand old 
 trees adjacent. A prim old lady, in costume something 
 between a quakeress and a female pew-opener, issued 
 from the house bearing the glass of water, with the 
 addition of wine and biscuits. Gertrude exclaimed in a 
 low voice — 
 
 " Why, here's the great-grandmother of all the Nu- 
 gents!" 
 
 The old lady, who was apparently Nugent's house- 
 keeper, pressed them to come in and rest, which they 
 accordingly did. Entering the drawing-room, they sat 
 do^vn on two of the thirteen chairs ranged round the 
 table; whilst John was prevailed upon to try Squire 
 Nugent's home-brewed, in the housekeeper's room. 
 Whilst respectfully peeping into one of the thirteen 
 books distributed over the table, they were startled 
 by the sudden ringing of a bell, and presently over- 
 heard the follo^^^ng conversation in the hall — 
 
 "What's yoiu: business, little boy? What's your 
 business ? " 
 
 " Oh, please, ma'am, I want Mr. Nugent ! " 
 
 It was the voice of a boy, and seemingly of a boy 
 scarce able to speak for breatlilessness.
 
 90 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 " Squire Nugent is not here^ little boy. He is on a 
 visit to Beaumont-liouse." 
 
 "Oh, wliat sliall I do?" said the boy; "it wiU be too 
 late!'; 
 
 " What will be too late ? " rejoined the housekeeper, 
 rather peevishly. " What is it you want with Squire 
 Nugent ? " 
 
 " Margaret wants him— she's dying ! " was aU the boy 
 could answer. 
 
 " Oh !" answered 'Mrs. Finchley, " I think I know you 
 now. You've come for soup and wine, haven't you ? 
 But, you're in such a heat, I didn't know you. And is 
 poor Margaret going ? Well, 'tis aU for the best, little 
 boy ; let me teU you that." 
 
 The boy did not seem to take this consolation very 
 kindly, but stood the picture of despondency, with his 
 eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 " I tell you w^hat I'll do for you, little boy. I'll go 
 and see Margaret myself. I wiU, indeed !" 
 
 And Mrs. Finchley began to tie on her head a capa- 
 cious head-dress, bearing some resemblance to a 
 bonnet. 
 
 " That won't do ! " said the boy sullenly. " She don't 
 want you." 
 
 " Well — and how do you know that, pert little boy ? " 
 said Mrs. Finchley, shaking her head at him, and look- 
 ing quite awful in the head-dress she had just donned. 
 "How do you know that? Don't you think a poor
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 91 
 
 dying creature might be glad to see even an old woman 
 like me ? " And the head-dress waved to and fi'o in the 
 dim passage, like some vast bhd about to descend upon 
 its prey. 
 
 The boy felt inclined to cry, but would not; and 
 added — 
 
 " The parson's ^vith her." 
 
 "Well, and that's better than nothing," answered 
 Mrs. Finchley, somewhat more gently, for she be- 
 gan to discover that the boy was in great distress. 
 "Mr. Lovell is a kind soul, I must say; though 
 he's three parts a papist. Here — you come in, and 
 take a cup of tea. Well, if you won't, I can't help 
 it. But as for Squire Nugent, you ought to know, 
 better than I do, that he can't move, because 
 of the kicks and blows that bad man HaiTill gave 
 him.'' 
 
 "I was running to Beaumont-house when George 
 Weston met me, and asked what I wanted the squire 
 for, and said he thought the squire had gone home, and 
 so I came back here." 
 
 The two ladies now came out of the drawing-room, 
 and spoke kindly to the boy, who, gaining a little 
 confidence, explained — that Margaret was near her 
 end, and had somethino^ on her mind she wished to tell 
 Nugent. 
 
 "' I've no friend in the world but she ! " said the boy, 
 as, melted by the gentle voices and looks of the two
 
 92 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 young womeiij tlie tears rolled down liis cheeks fast but 
 silently. 
 
 " Let us go to her," said Gertrude ; and, Miss 
 Beverley at once assenting, they started for the 
 cottage, the boy going first to show the way. At 
 the little garden-gate in front of the cottage, a 
 bony-looking horse, covered with foam and dust, was 
 fastened. 
 
 " That's Mr. Grierson's horse," said Miss Beverley. 
 The boy, after looking back, ran across the garden into 
 the cottage, and, as he opened the door, the loud wail of 
 several of the children burst upon the ear. Miss 
 Beverley laid her hand on Gertrude's arm, and said, 
 *^ My dear, remember ! Your mother, Lady Maud, has 
 forbidden your entering cottages without her express 
 permission." 
 
 ^' That was when I was a child : I am now old enough 
 to judge for myself; " and, so saying, the young girl 
 opened the little gate with an energy that nearly shook 
 it off its well-worn hinges, and hastened towards the 
 cottage. At the door she was met by the surgeon, 
 whose countenance was so much graver, or we should 
 say so much less cheerful, than usual, that she scarcely 
 recognised him. 
 
 *^This is no place for you. Miss Usherwood!" he ex- 
 claimed in a low voice. " I must beg you will not 
 enter." Gertrude, however, followed byMiss Beverley, 
 persisted in entering; but stopped, after taking a few
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 93 
 
 steps into the room, as if awestruck. Upon the bed 
 lay the corpse of Margaret; her countenance pale 
 as marble, but free from any trace of pain. Indeed, 
 after the anxious expression the living face usually 
 wore, its present aspect seemed mild and peace- 
 ful. A clergyman stood by the bedside, and gazed 
 through his tears upon the even now handsome, though 
 lifeless, features of the form stretched on the bed. 
 Struggling round, and endeavouring to reach and touch 
 their mother's corpse, were three young children, all 
 crying dismally. The boy Edward had caught up a 
 fourth child, the youngest of them, and, sitting on a 
 low stool, held him on his lap, and tried to pacify his 
 cries. 
 
 "Oh, what will become of these little ones?" asked 
 Gertrude. 
 
 Mr. Lovell, the clergyman, looked with a sorrowful 
 glance at the group round the bed, and for a moment 
 said nothing. He was a fair-haired, good-looking 
 young man, with clear blue eyes, and a thoughtful 
 expression of countenance. There was something, 
 though you scarce knew what, quaint in the fashion 
 of his dress, which was scrupulously neat and well 
 made. 
 
 " I have offered the lad to take him home and keep 
 him till he could earn his bread," at length answered 
 Lovell, " but he will not leave the little ones." 
 
 " They must all go into the house," said the sur-
 
 94 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 geon, kindly but empliatically ; " that is their proper 
 place." 
 
 Gertrude not knowing what the House meant, and 
 confused by the scene around, gave all the money she 
 had about her to Lovell, and asked him to lay it out for 
 them. 
 
 Miss Beverley hoped she made a " happy end." 
 
 Lovell, thanking Gertrude in a low voice for her kind- 
 ness, turned to Miss Beverley, and replying to her ques- 
 tion, said — " Pardon me, but I should wish to be excused 
 alluding to our departed sister's last moments, except 
 in strict confidence. I would only state this much, that 
 I felt warranted in uttering the absolution over her, and 
 I believe she died a sound member of our beloved 
 church." Miss Beverley was puzzled, and set him down 
 as a papist and a disagreeable young man. 
 
 Margaret had derived from Lovell's visits the chief con- 
 solation that had chequered the last years of her ap- 
 parently disastrous lot. She did not understand half 
 he said, or aU that he read to her ; but there was some- 
 thing in his soothing voice, and in the sympathy 
 shewing itself in his every look and gesture, that gave 
 a deep meaning to all she did understand. And thus a 
 gleam of religious faith rescued her, before it was too 
 late, from total prostration and darkness of soul. She 
 died in Lovell's arms ; and though for a time distressed 
 not to see Nugent, she yielded to Lovell's injunction 
 to commit all her cares in faith to a higher pov/er,
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 95 
 
 SO that her end was more peacefiJ and serene than 
 could have heen anticipated by those who had seen 
 her but a short time previously. 
 
 Gertrude and her companion now left the cottage, 
 and foimd outside Mrs. Finchley and the coachman. 
 The latter was gazing into the interior of the cottage 
 through the little window, raising himself on tiptoe by 
 resting his hands on the sUl, and occasionally interrupt- 
 ing his observations in order to rub his eyes violently 
 with the cuffs of his coat, forgetting for a time the dig- 
 nity of his profession as a coachman and a conservative 
 of moderate principles. Mrs. Finchley, adorned wdth 
 her capacious bonnet, and bearing a huge basket, con- 
 taining every thing apparently that could possibly be 
 needed — from baby-linen to beef-tea — looked positively 
 treniendous ; like some genie in an Arabian Night's 
 Tale, who appears at firstsight mahgnantly hostile, but 
 turns out (nobody knows why) to be extravagantly 
 benevolent and friendly. As the ladies took their de- 
 parture through the garden-gate, ^Irs. Fincliley bustled 
 into the cottage, and commenced distributing buns, 
 stockings, and rehgious tracts with extraordinary rapi- 
 dity ; not forgetting to present Lovell and the surgeon 
 with one or two of the latter article, selected with as 
 much regard to their appropriateness as circumstances 
 permitted. John, the coachman, ventured in after her, 
 and thrast a shilling into the boy's hand, \Yith a giimt
 
 96 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 wliicli would have expanded into a consolatory observa- 
 tion; only he found he was in imminent danger of bursting 
 into tears, and therefore made a rapid retreat into the 
 garden. 
 
 " How is Lucy ? " asked Gertrude of Mr. Grierson, 
 who was just mounting his bony steed. 
 
 "Lucy? what Lucy?" answered that gentleman, 
 fumbhng in his memorandum-book. " I have five Lucys 
 on my list — two in the house, three out. Oh ! to be sure : 
 you mean Weston? — she's better. I think she'll do. 
 I saw her this morning, and I only wish I had as many 
 o^uineas as I have ridden miles since then ! This is 
 a large Union, Miss Usherwooil." 
 
 And poor Mr. Grierson was commencing his usual 
 lament over the extent of the district committed to him, 
 and the smallness of his salary, painting his hardships 
 in dismal colours, but with a face of perfi^t content- 
 ment, when Mr. Lovell emerged from the cottage, and 
 said — 
 
 "You will pass through Winterbourne, Grierson; 
 will you let tbe relieving-officer know about this? 'Tis 
 seven miles off, and I have no one to send.' 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Mr. Grierson ; " I'll tell him. Good- 
 morning, ladies. I must lose no more time, for I have 
 twenty-five miles to ride before sunset." And with a deep 
 groan, but a broad smile on his countenance, the surgeon 
 bowed, and, spurring liis steed, was soon out of sight.
 
 DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. §7 
 
 Gertrude watched him disappear down the lane in a 
 cloud of dust, and then with the governess, followed at 
 a distance by the faithful John, directed her steps 
 homewards in a thoughtful and saddened mood 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 98 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SIR ELIOT PRICHARD, 
 
 The following day Lovell called ^t Beaumont-house to 
 see Nugent, and acquaint liim with Margaret's decease. 
 He found, however, that Weston had anticipated him, 
 having brought the intelligence the evening before. 
 He was, however, enabled to give further information, 
 which w^as interesting to Nugent. 
 
 It appeared that the poor woman, fearing her hus- 
 band would be sent to jail, which, drunken tyrant 
 though he was, she could not bear the thought of, gave 
 him notice of Nugent's intentions. The man, with many 
 imprecations, immediately left the cottage, which he had 
 entered soon after Nugent's departure, and betook him- 
 self to the cottage of George Weston, his intimate 
 associate and ally. The wife, agitated and alarmed 
 by the violence of his manner, passed some hours in 
 great anxiety. Suddenly her cottage was entered by 
 the parish constables and other men hunting for her 
 husband, and informing her, in a rough thoughtless 
 way, that he had set upon Squire Nugent and half- 
 murdered him. This intelligence told with severe force
 
 SIR ELIOT PRICHARD. 99' 
 
 upon the sick woman's frame. She felt she had been 
 the cause of her husband's \aolence towards one who 
 had always succoured and befriended her ; and, though 
 assured by her neighbours that Nugent's hurt was a 
 mere trifle, from that hour she rapidly sank. It was 
 her earnest wish to ask Nugent's forgiveness, as well 
 as to speak to him on some subject near her heart. The 
 boy Edward discovered what was on her mind, and, as 
 we have seen, started forth in search of him. 
 
 Nugent immediately sent word to his housekeeper to 
 take care that the children wanted nothing, and place 
 some trustworthy woman in the cottage in charge of 
 them. His first wish was to take the boy into his 
 service ; but Lovell assured him that he quite angrily 
 refused to be separated from the children. So, for the 
 present, no better arrangement could be made. 
 
 Lovell was asked to stay dinner, as a few friends 
 were expected, and Nugent had also been pennitted to 
 join the party. 
 
 Nugent could with dijfficulty walk, even with the 
 aid of a good stick, so was scarcely competent to hand 
 a lady into dinner; and it was settled, after much de- 
 bate, that he should be safely seated at the dinner- 
 table before the guests entered the room. It had 
 rather a solemn appearance, this spectacle of a gentleman 
 already seated ; and put Gertrude in mind, though she 
 did not say so, of the skeleton at the table of an 
 Egyptian feast. Nugent was introduced, with as much
 
 100 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 ceremony as circumstances allowed, to Sir Eliot 
 Prichard, who appeared the lion of the party. With 
 the rest of the guests, Mr. Rubbley the great mining 
 proprietor. Colonel and Mi's. Clair, Mr. Lovell, and 
 other residents in the neighbourhood, Nugent was 
 well acquainted. 
 
 Sir Eliot Prichard was a gentleman who had recently 
 succeeded to a large property in an adjoining parish to 
 Okenham. He was a man of large views and philo- 
 sophic principles, a consistent advocate of toleration, 
 liberal in politics, but no slave to party — at least, this 
 was the character he wished people to attribute to him. 
 Some, however, rebelled, and thought him shallow and 
 bustling, a reflection of other men's theories in an im- 
 perfect and confused fashion; like a cut-glass decanter 
 that collects a variety of lights, but all distorted 
 and broken. Some said he was the most intolerant ad- 
 vocate of toleration, and the most illiberal of liberals. 
 However this may be. Sir Eliot Prichard seemed toler- 
 ably satisfied with his own position in the world, and 
 the opinion generally formed respecting him. His voice 
 was soon heard at the table preponderating over 
 others, not offensively or loudly, but decidedly, as we 
 see a stout man of great weight push his way through a 
 crowd without seeming to wrong any one individually, 
 yet mildly displacing aU in his way. The conversation 
 turned naturally to the cause of Nugent's accident. 
 
 " Is the fellow caught yet ? " asked Mr. Eubbley the
 
 SIR ELIOT PEICHAED. 101 
 
 coal proprietor, who, with lace front to his shirt and 
 well-oiled whiskers, looked as if he had never seen a 
 mine in his life. 
 
 "No/' said LoveU, "he is supposed to have con- 
 cealed himself somewhere in your subterranean neigh- 
 bourhood." 
 
 "Mr. Rubbley did not like the mines to be mentioned 
 in his presence, and looked hurt at even this vague allu- 
 sion to them. 
 
 " I wish we could unkennel him," observed Clair, who 
 was a magistrate ; " I should enjoy committing the 
 feUow. I have little doubt he is a poacher." 
 
 " In my opinion," said Mrs. Clair, who was a lady of 
 susceptible temper, wdth decided views on most sub- 
 jects — " in my opinion, he ought to be hirng." 
 
 " Madam," said Su' EHot Prichard, " without taking 
 into consideration the important question whether the 
 individual Harrill has committed an offence which the 
 law visits with capital punishment, I would venture to 
 hope we shall one day see punishment by death abo- 
 lished in toto,'* 
 
 IMrs. Clair looked up at Sir Eliot as if he had said 
 something personally insulting, and exclaimed — 
 
 " I trust. Sir Elliot, you are mistaken ! / like our 
 good old Enghsh customs too much, to hope any such 
 thing!" 
 
 " We must look at this question in its broadest bear- 
 ings," continued Sir EHot — pausing in the act of carving
 
 102 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 the haunch of venison, much to the distress of Mr. 
 Usherwood, who was waiting in an agony to be helped — 
 and glancing round at the company in general. " What 
 is the object of death punishment ? Clearly, the benefit 
 of the survivors. Now, look at that horrid spectacle, the 
 cold-blooded execution of a human being — Mr. Usher- 
 wood, I believe you are partial to fat — a human being 
 like ourselves — the same limbs, thews, sinews — a little 
 more gravy, Llr. Usherwood ? — the same feelings, fears, 
 and hopes — and the same soul, Mr. Lovell " — he added, 
 dropping his voice to a solemn whisper as he glanced 
 towards the clergyman — " and the same soul as we have. 
 What a scene of vice, rioting, and intemperance I " 
 
 ^* I can't help that," said Clair, gallantly taking up 
 the cudgels for his wife ; " Government ought to put all 
 that down. It is very hard that a murderer shoidd be 
 let off because a lot of rascals as bad as himself choose 
 to misbehave at his execution. Government ought to 
 put it down." 
 
 " Put it down, sir ! " continued Sir Eliot. " This 
 is a free country; we don't want one of your 
 paternal Austrian governments over here. No, no, my 
 good sir, you can't make men virtuous by Act of 
 Parliament ; can you, Mr. Lovell ? " he added, turning 
 to the young clergyman. 
 
 Lovell answered, that he thought capital punishment 
 wiped out the stain of blood from the land, and was com- 
 manded by Holy Scriptm-e.
 
 SIR ELIOT PRICHARD. 103 
 
 " Excuse me," said Sir Eliot, drinking a glass of cliam- 
 pagne, and pausing to appreciate the flavour. " Much 
 reflection has decided me to totally discard the anti- 
 quated interpretation of the passages to which, I presume, 
 you refer." 
 
 Lovell, not wishing to drag the Scriptures upon the 
 table any further, was silent; but Nugent maintained 
 that a careful examination of Scripture, conducted in 
 proper spirit, would lead any conscientious man to 
 believe that death punishment was recognized and 
 sanctioned by divine authority. Sir Eliot, impatiently 
 waving his hand, proceeded : — " A public execution is a 
 barbarous, offensive, and appalling disgrace to modern 
 civilization. Talk of gladiators, the inquisition, bull- 
 fights, and such -like horrors, indeed ! — I'll trouble 
 you. Colonel Clair, for a bit of the breast. — By the 
 bye. Colonel, have you ever seen a man hanged ? I 
 have. Thought it a public duty. Paid ten guineas for 
 a front seat in the garret window of a pawnbroker's 
 shop. A horrid sight ! We took our prog with us, of 
 course : champagne, veal pie, and cigars. And I do 
 assure you, Lady Maud, I cannot describe the inhuman 
 callousness of the crowd that filled the space beneath 
 our windows. I saw two fellows drinking gin and 
 water, and smoking clay pipes a-top of a lamp-post right 
 in front of the gallows. There was a pickpocket as busy as 
 a bee in one dii-ection, and in another I counted no less 
 than three men with black eyes ; whilst many of the
 
 104 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 mob were so drunk that only the excessive crush kept 
 them upright on their legs." 
 
 " AU this is very sad," said Lovell ; " but, after all, 
 tliese painful sights are not proofs of the ill effects 
 of death punishment, but symptoms of the vices deep- 
 seated in human society." 
 
 " To be sure, Mr. Lovell," now joined Mr. Usherwood, 
 who was considerably taken aback at Sir Eliot^s views. 
 " To be sure — that's it ! Just like measles or scarlet 
 fever. Never mind the eruption; that's a healthy 
 effort. Go to the root of the evil, and try and cure 
 that." 
 
 *^ Well, I'm for private executions, at aU events " — 
 observed Nugent. 
 
 "'Twould be such a sneaking, hugger-mugger affair," 
 said Mr. Usherwood ; " much like an inquisition. 
 Doesn't look British, that sort of thing. Now, I hate 
 every thing that is not honest, downright British. 
 William ! Fill my glass with that light French wine 
 I'm partial to. Thank you, William." 
 
 "Nobody can deny," urged Nugent, "that execu- 
 tions are an opportunity for mdulging in most dis- 
 gusting excesses ; and I think, too, that coarse minds 
 are only brutalized by the spectacle of human suffer- 
 
 " Who would beheve the culprit was reaUy dead ? " 
 asked Mr. Rubbley, with a shrewd self-satisfied glance 
 round the table ; " who would believe it ? You'd have a
 
 SIE ELIOT PEICHAED. 105 
 
 jury, would you ? A jury to witness the execution ? 
 Nice task for a jury I Fancy being impanelled to stare 
 at a man being put to death in cold blood ! Nice morn- 
 ing's amusement I" — (with another shrewd smile) — ■ 
 "Pleasant, humanizing, edifying occupation !" 
 
 ^^ Well, but you provide that amusement, that occu- 
 pation for thousands, as executions are now conducted," 
 suggested Nugent. 
 
 " Thousands, sir ! " exclaimed Mr. Kubbley, warmly. 
 " Why, who really sees an execution out of all the 
 thousands present? It's only a few near the scaf- 
 fold. The rest only see figm-es hke puppets mov- 
 ing to and fro a long way off. That don't hurt any 
 body." 
 
 " But, if that is so," said Gertrude timidly, " it must 
 be as difficult to prove that a man is really dead in public 
 as in private executions. Only a few actually see the 
 ceremony in either case." 
 
 Gertrude's remark did not seem to be heard by Mr. 
 Rubbley, but Nugent exclaimed — 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Usherwood, I think that disposes 
 of Mr. Rubbley's argument. To my mind, a mob is a 
 very indifferent -s^itness to a matter of fact." 
 
 Just then Lady Maud asked Sir EHot how the poor 
 creature looked when led out to be hung ? 
 
 "My lady," rejomed Sir Ehot, "I couldn't detect 
 the expression of his countenance very distinctly, 
 although my opera-glass was a good one. But I can
 
 108 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 only tell you this ; the whole thing looked uncommonly 
 like a murder." 
 
 "Why," said Colonel Clair, "the poor creature had 
 slain his own wife, and made mince-meat of her corpse 
 in order to dispose of it conveniently ! " 
 
 "I should like to have seen him minced alive!" observed 
 Mrs. Clair, crushing up her beef rissole in the agitation 
 of the moment. 
 
 " That's a narrow view of the matter," responded Sir 
 Eliot. " This unhappy man was once young, innocent, 
 playful — perhaps engaging. Nay, I don't hesitate to say 
 he was once a baby — his mother's cherished darling. Ah! 
 Lady Maud, Mrs. Clair, Mrs. Kubbley,you are mothers — 
 consider ! Doubtless, once upon a time Greenacre and 
 Rush trundled their hoops in childish glee, and Mrs. 
 Manning nursed a doll ! " 
 
 " Well, but what would you do with these fellows ? 
 Am I to have my throat cut ? " expostulated Mr. Usher- 
 wood, settling his shirt-collar with a soothing forefinger. 
 
 " Such men as these should be put in a refonnatory," 
 replied Sir Eliot — " a national reformatory." 
 
 "We should need a precious large building!" inter- 
 rupted Mr. Rubbley, with an attempt at sarcasm. 
 
 "A reformatory establishment, with an efficient staff of 
 carefully selected officers, whose hearts are in their work, 
 male and female — Lady Maud, male and female. Apart- 
 ments airy and cheerful. No extraordinary luxuries, 
 but every necessary comfort. Moderate recreation,
 
 SIR ELIOT PRICHARD. 107 
 
 occasional solitude, lectures, sacred music, useful and 
 moral publications ; Mr. LoveU, clergymen of every 
 denomination. In short, a graduated course of spiri- 
 tual and physical education, issuing, as soon as the 
 patients should be pronounced convalescent, in a cer- 
 tificate of moral health; first, second, or third class, 
 according to the quantum of merit fairly attribut- 
 able to each of them. Oh, it's an interesting subject — 
 very ! " 
 
 And Sir Eliot paused to drink the pale ale handed 
 to him after cheese. 
 
 "Thank you!" exclaimed Mr. Usherwood; "thank 
 you. I'm sick of reformatories ! There was one near 
 our last place of residence, and it did precious little 
 good. 'Twas a reformatory for boys ; and, would you 
 believe it, twenty per cent, of these boys tm-ned out 
 badly ? Twenty per cent., instead of becoming virtu- 
 ous young Christians, ran wUd, and played the deuce!" 
 
 " I beg you pardon," asked LoveU ; " but how many 
 Eton and Winchester lads are virtuous young Christians, 
 do you think, sir?" 
 
 " Oh, that's quite a diiferent thing, Mr.Lovell !" replied 
 Mr. Usherwood. 
 
 " It does gall me," said Lovell, '* to see lads of ten or 
 twelve, sons of labouring men, marched oiF like felons 
 to the county jail for a month's hard labour, just for 
 robbing an orchard or puUing a turnip, when we 
 know very well a young gentleman detected at thes^
 
 108 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 tricks would only get a birching, or may be fifty lines of 
 Homer to write out." 
 
 a We generally flog lads for that if the case come with- 
 in the act," remarked Clau\ " I'm a hearty advocate 
 for flogging." 
 
 " The worst of it is," said Lovell, " that some boys 
 suffer so much, and some so little, from punishments of 
 this kind. You cannot regulate the degree of punish- 
 ment you inflict." 
 
 " Thrash them till they halloo loud enough!" said Mr. 
 Rubbley with a knowing look. 
 
 " Then you punish a boy for being plucky and bearing 
 pain well, and reward him for effeminacy — or, what is 
 worse, for hypocrisy; for any one can shout or yell." 
 
 '*A friend of mine," said Lady Maud, "a young 
 married friend of mine, with some nice children growing 
 up, adopts the practice of pricking them with a pin 
 when naughty. She considers that it answers well." 
 
 "What a beast !" murmured LoveU quietly to his 
 next neighbour. 
 
 " A dose of physic and early to bed is my plan !" said 
 Mrs. Clair, in an emphatic voice. 
 
 " Ah ! but they make a fuss over physic," remarked 
 IVIrs. Rubbley, "and it tries my nerves; I cannot bear a 
 fuss." 
 
 "Bad — very bad!" oracularly observed Sir Eliot. 
 " The sohtary system is the method of punishment. An 
 enlightened parent should adopt no other. Let the cul-
 
 SIE ELIOT PRICHARD. 109 
 
 prit nuninate in utter seclusion, and regulate the amount 
 of liglit allowed to him in exact proportion to the 
 enormity of the fault committed. The ladies should 
 see our county jail — should they not, Clau'? Keep 
 the body cramped, cooped-up, confined : then let the 
 mind work, work, work — that's the way to reform a 
 culprit!" 
 
 '^ It seems to me," said Lovell, ^' we generally thiak 
 too much of punishment, and too little of reward. If 
 you give a fair share of encouragement to those in your 
 charge, the withdrawal of it will be a punishment 
 severely felt. We ought to sweeten the atmosphere 
 of life in some of its phases. A httle kindness and 
 sympathy would not be thrown away even in jails 
 or workhouses." 
 
 ^^"What! kindness to criminalsV asked Rubbley, open- 
 ing his eyes very -vvide. ^* To criminals ? " 
 
 " I would never deprive a man of hope^'" rejoined 
 Lovell. " I would allow even a criminal to better his 
 condition in some degree, however trifluig, by his 
 own exertions. Then, as for the community in 
 general, I would offer apprenticeships and other 
 advantages to the children of the working-classes; 
 making it a condition that they should regularly attend 
 school for a certain time previous to the examinatiou 
 they would have to pass, and allowing so many marks 
 for good conduct, and so many marks for proficiency in 
 study."
 
 110 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Sir Eliot, who did not like to be merely a listener, 
 and thouglit Lovell was trespassing on his peculiar 
 province, now rather abruptly turned the conversation 
 to the subject of spirit-rapping; at the same time 
 observing to Lady Maud, in an under voice, that the 
 young man was " well-meaning but prosy." 
 
 Soon after, the ladies withdrew, much to Nugenf s 
 regret. He was just beginning to feel quite at ease 
 with Gertrude, with whom he had been for some time 
 conversing, and had actually succeeded in interesting 
 her in topics which he at first feared would put her too 
 much in mind of the school-room ; such as the instinct 
 of animals, and the dififerent species of wild-flowers in 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 Gertrude on that occasion was indeed easily pleased, 
 for it was her first dinner-party, and, quiet and ordinary 
 though it was, it had the charm of an unusual excitement. 
 
 What a change from early dinners and school- 
 room discipline! — from Miss Beverley's "My dear, 
 you're sitting quite crooked ! " — and Lady Maud's " My 
 darling child, don't take any more of that jam-roll ; 
 it's as heavy as lead ! " And Agatha's and Jessie's vo- 
 ciferous petitions, " Gertrude, Gertrude, you never 
 give us enough gravy, — I wish you would let Miss 
 Beverley carve ! " 
 
 Now, all around her were fiill of the most anxious 
 politeness, and somehow or other the gentle respect 
 shovang itself in Nugent's tone of voice, and in the ex-
 
 SIR ELIOT PRICHARD. Ill 
 
 pressionof his eyes, pleased her more than she would 
 have liked to confess. It was so new to feel that there 
 was one sitting by her who seemed ready, at the 
 slightest signal, to do any thing whatever she chose to 
 command. 
 
 When the men were left alone they became more 
 argumentative, and ^Ir. Usherwood fell asleep. Clair, 
 'Mr, Rubbley, and Nugent, discussed free-trade and pro- 
 tection, but found that each of the three differed 
 entirely from the other two; so that they kept 
 revolving round one another, like planetary orbs with 
 centrifugal energy, ever approaching but never coales- 
 cing. Lovell was entangled for a short time in an 
 argument vdih Sir Eliot on the Athanasian creed; 
 but both, on a sudden, finding them.selves out of their 
 depth, paused to collect their thoughts ; which enabled 
 Sir Eliot to overhear the triple controversy waged 
 by the three other gentlemen at the other end of the 
 table. 
 
 " Ruin to the agricultural interest, which has been the 
 bulwark of Britain for ! " exclaimed Clair. 
 
 " Salvation to the country at large, imperilled by 
 class legislation ! " interposed Rubbley, who was picking 
 his teeth with an elegant gold toothpick. 
 
 " Some compensation seems but just, considering vest- 
 ed interests. Local burdens should be reduced," 
 urged Nugent. 
 
 " A feather in the balance — mere sham ! " cried Clair
 
 112 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 " What, tax the poor to replenish the pockets of the 
 rich ? " asked Rubbley. 
 
 "Rents must fall for a time, at all events," added Nugent. 
 
 "Robbery I" shouted Clair. 
 
 "Panic!" exclaimed Rubbley, and then followed a 
 medley of words, in which high prices — low prices — 
 native industry — alarming abundance of bread — mono- 
 poly — Manchester — wages — paupers — peers — Peel — 
 were chiefly distinguishable ; and in the midst of wliich 
 Sir Eliot descended upon the combatants with the 
 grandeur of an avalanche crashing down the side 
 of a mountain upon three goats fighting at the bot- 
 tom. He fell heavily upon all three. Rubbley was 
 stunned. Nugent endured the shock with passive 
 resignation. Clair writhed in involuntary prostration. 
 Sir Ehot had got through half a page of John Stewart 
 MiU, only interrupted by a faint snore from Mr. Usher- 
 wood, which the speaker mistook for a smothered sigh 
 of admiration, when the butler entered the room with 
 coffee, and the party broke up and joined the ladies. 
 Nugent was tired, and glad to escape to his bed- 
 room, leaning on John's shoulder. As they ascended the 
 stairs a melancholy ballad issued from the school-room, 
 which John evidently thought highly of, for he stopped 
 unbidden to enable Nugent to Hsten. That gentleman, 
 however, we regret to say, propelled the coachman for- 
 ward, and did not avail himself of the musical treat 
 offered to him.
 
 SIR ELIOT PRICHAKD, 113 
 
 The fact was, that !Miss Beverley, who on this occasion 
 had been specially invited to join Gertrude's first dinner- 
 party, had met with a trying slight. The footman had 
 omitted to hand her currant jeUy when she was helped 
 to hare. 'Tis true she could not endure currant jeUy^ 
 but that the footman did not know, and therefore she 
 felt the omission as a studied aifront. So she had fled 
 to her school-room, and was consoling herself by singing 
 " None remember thee ! " in heart-rending accents. 
 This assertion, however, sang several times by Miss 
 Beverley, with her eyes fijted on the picture of a favour- 
 ite lap-dog hanging on the waU opposite, was practically 
 refuted by the entrance of Gertrude, who came to fetch 
 her back to the company. Nugent overheard animated 
 whispers and conversation, and finally laughter, after 
 which jMiss Beverley followed Gertrude back to the 
 drawing-room, where she was, not long after, again 
 engaged in singing "None remember thee," in much 
 the same affecting accents as before, but with a lighter 
 heart. Mrs. Clair praised her performance in a patro- 
 nizing way, and was prevailed on by Lady Maud to 
 sing a duet with Gertrude; but as Gertrude was im- 
 perfectly acquainted with the words, and Mi^s. Clair had 
 forgotten the accompaniment, the attempt was only par- 
 tially successful, and ended in a compromise that they 
 should sino^ in succession their own sonars. 
 
 Gertrude had rarely sung even before such a mode- 
 rate assemblage as the present, but got on very well; 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 BELOW THE SUEEACE. 
 
 only Mr. Lovell would turn over the leaves too soon, 
 and that with such a solemn expression of face that she 
 feared to remonstrate; and !Miss Beverley would sit 
 just before the piano, exhibiting an agonized anxiety 
 for her pupil's success in a variety of vrays; beating 
 time with her tea-spoon on the saucer ; smiling wildly 
 when asked by Sir EHot Prichard what was the name 
 of the song ; frowning authoritatively at Gertrude when 
 her voice trembled a Uttle as it dwelt on G Flat. Inso- 
 much that Lady Maud at length gently led her to the 
 other end of the room to play chess with Colonel 
 Clair, who had never played before in his hfe, but, 
 fascinated by Lady Maud's winning manners, assented 
 to her proposal without a moment's consideration. 
 Accordingly, the colonel passed the remainder of 
 the evening in the agreeable occupation of learning 
 the moves; a task so distracting to his brain, that 
 he dreamed, after retiring to rest, he was a knight at 
 chess, vainly striving to move in the oblique fashion 
 peculiar to that piece. 
 
 Mr. Rubbley talked about railways to Mr. Usher- 
 wood, whom he endeavoured to inspke with those san- 
 guine views which, "after mature deliberation," he himself 
 had embraced. A task not very easy, seeing that Mr. 
 Rubbley was in quite a different position to ^Ir. Usher- 
 wood, having purchased a large number of shares in the 
 stock of the Eentw^orth Eailway Company with his own 
 iron, and sold them again before the great fall took p'ace.
 
 SIR ELIOT PEICHAED. 115 
 
 Barring this slight difference in their relative circum- 
 stances, they got on very well; and IMr. Ushenvood, 
 until cooler reflection dissolved the hallucination, felt 
 comforted and refreshed, and even went through the 
 form of confidentially drinking " Prosperity to the Kent- 
 worth Kailway ! " in a glass of negus, aside to Rubbley. 
 Eubbley, though he knew it was a mockery, re-echoed 
 the sentiment in a jovial whisper. 
 
 Sir Eliot complimented Lady Maud on Gertrude's 
 appearance with the air of a man of large experience in 
 feminine beauty and accomplishments ; and asked many 
 questions, circuitously and diplomatically, about the 
 same young lady : the answers to which Mss Beverley 
 with her quick eye observed him secretly enter in a 
 small memorandum -book, whilst pretending to admire 
 the portrait of Lady Maud's late lamented great-grand- 
 mother, ^* the countess of Delafield."
 
 116 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THE RIVALS. 
 
 In a day or two Nugent was once more reinstated at 
 the Manor-house Farm, and immersed in business both 
 in-doors and out, for work had of course fallen in arrears 
 during his enforced confinement to a sick-room. The 
 change from pleasant society in a large luxurious man- 
 sion, to his owQ solitary and secluded home, was great ; 
 but Nugent felt it was his duty to resist any tendency 
 to discontent or weak depression of spirits, and did his 
 best accordingly. During the day his many avocations, 
 involving, for the most part, active personal exertion, 
 rendered the task comparatively easy; but, with the dark- 
 ness and stillness of night, the trial became more severe. 
 Once or twice, indeed, during the first week following 
 his return, he had recourse, by way of transient conso- 
 lation, to a talk with Mrs. Finchley; but that lady's 
 topics were invariably of a complexion rather dismal. 
 She descanted on the misfortunes and sufferings of the 
 Nugent family — described the illness of his late father — 
 gave the fullest account of his mother's funeral — narrat-
 
 THE RIVALS. 117 
 
 ed the death-bed scenes of personal friends In the 
 neighbourhood — quoted several sentences out of " Dre- 
 lincourt on Death/' and all this in so unearthly a tone 
 of voice, like the ghost in Hamlet, that his spirits 
 sank lower and lower, until he made an effort and 
 rushed out of the apartment. Even then his trouble 
 was not over ; for, in the course of the evening, Mrs. 
 Finchley, anxious on account of his health, followed 
 him into his study, bearing a glass of some nauseous 
 mixture from the family medicine chest, which she 
 almost forced down his throat ; but, finding he could not 
 be prevailed on to swallow it, drank it off herself, lest it 
 should 'be wasted. 
 
 He did not wish to show any importunity in renewing 
 his intimacy with the Usherwoods ; but Lady Maud 
 was careful it should not drop. Notes and messages — 
 inquiries after his health, and invitations to dinner — 
 were frequent ; and at length !Mr. Usherwood and Lady 
 Maud paid a joint visit to inquire about a lady's horse 
 Nugent had heard of, and which he had recommended 
 for oMiss Usherwood's use. In the course of conversa- 
 tion, Nugent, on the impulse of the moment, offered to 
 take charge of the animal for a few days or weeks if 
 necessary, and break him thoroughly in, lest he should 
 prove too fiery and headstrong. This proposal, w^hich 
 was gratefully accepted, led to Nugent's riding with 
 this young lady once or twice a-week, accompanied by 
 one of the younger girls, as well as the faithful John.
 
 118 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Now and then they took a gallop along the downs above 
 the Manor Farm. Both were fond of this particular 
 ride, and gave their horses the reins without speaking, 
 but in silent enjoyment of the free and rapid rush over 
 the elastic turf and through the fresh mountain air. 
 John and the younger sister followed at a sedater pace ; 
 the one apparently in a state of solemn reverie, the 
 latter impatient at the restraint imposed on her. 
 
 It may be said that these attentions on the part of 
 Nugent were decidedly marked and unmistakeable; but 
 it must be remembered that he was some ten years 
 older than Gertrude — a difference at her age of some 
 importance. Moreover, the parents of the young lady 
 encouraged his joining her for the sake of the advan- 
 tages accruing from his instructions in the equestrian 
 art. 
 
 Nugent, indeed, deluded himself into the idea that he 
 looked upon her merely as a child — a sort of younger 
 sister ; but in a little time found her image begin 
 to haunt him in a way unfavourable to agricultural 
 interests : found that at times his heart beat very fast, 
 and his breathing suddenly grew oppressed — symptoms 
 entirely new to him, and always exactly coincident 
 with a rencontre with ^iiss Usherwood, whether it 
 was at a dinner party in the neighbourhood when she 
 glided in after Lady Maud ; whether it was during a 
 solitary ride when he saw far off, on the crest of the 
 hill, or turning the corner of some shady lane, a lady
 
 THE RIVALS. 119 
 
 on horseback, whose light and buoyant figure he re- 
 cognised ^\ith half a glance. Although prone to examine 
 his thoughts and feehugs, it must be confessed that 
 on this occasion Nugent ^did so with reluctance, and 
 after some delay. As often happens, he postponed to 
 make an inquiry, the result of which might possibly 
 prove painful. Accustomed to obey his conscience, 
 he postponed for a while putting his conscience in 
 possession of the facts requisite for forming a judg- 
 ment. This, however, was a weakness in which 
 Nugent was too honest long to indulge. He was haunted 
 by doubts, whether he was such an one as Lady ^laud 
 would deem qualified in rank or fortune to be the hus- 
 band of her favourite child. Again, he recoiled firom 
 the idea of taking advantage of the opportunities 
 confidingly granted to hun, or of a young girl's 
 inexperience of the world, and of her acquaintance only 
 with the scanty society of the neighbom^hood, to win 
 her heart or her hand. 
 
 About the time, however, that Nugent began seriously 
 to question the prudence and the blamelessness of 
 his famihar intercourse with Gertrude, a circumstance 
 occmTcd wliich induced him to make up liis mind 
 more rapidly than he probably intended. He had 
 promised to meet Gertrude at a particular bridge 
 that spanned one of the many streamlets traversing 
 the vahey, in order to take one of their usual rides. 
 At a few minutes after the appointed time, Nugent
 
 120 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 slowly rode up to the bridge in question, and to his 
 surprise, but not exactly to his gratification, observed, 
 besides Gertrude, her sisters, and the coachman, 
 another person — a gentleman weU mounted, who seemed 
 in animated conversation with Gertrude. On approach- 
 ing the group, he found this addition to their riding 
 party was no less a personage than Sir Eliot Prichard, 
 quite at his ease, and in high force. 
 
 Nugent, vexed at having kept Gertrude waiting, 
 exculpated himself by producing his large hunting- 
 watch, a legacy of his father's, and declared that the 
 rest of the party were ten minutes before the time of 
 rendezvous. 
 
 Sir Eliot, who greeted Nugent with an air of good- 
 humoured toleratioa more annoying than any degree of 
 stiffness or hauteur, instantly produced an elegant 
 Geneva watch, and assured Nugent that his timepiece 
 must be out of order, for it was at least a quarter of an 
 hour slow — an assertion which the chimes of a church 
 clock, not far distant, at that moment chanced to cor- 
 roborate. The fact was, that Nugent's methodical 
 habits and attention to punctuality had been of late 
 rather relaxed, and his watch, usually kept in accurate 
 order, had suffered in consequence. He instantly owned 
 his fault, but this trifling incident gave him some 
 annoyance. They all forthwith started for their ride. 
 Sir Eliot invited himself to be of the party, and coolly, 
 as Nugent thought, took up his position at Gertrude's
 
 THE RIVALS. 121 
 
 right hand, leaving him, the lane being narrow, to 
 trot behind, sometimes with one of the girls, some- 
 times jostling against John. Now, John having 
 been enjoined by Gertrude to keep exactly ten 
 yards behind her sisters, rigidly adhered to the order, 
 and sternly pressed forwards despite every transient 
 interruption, whether it was a score of bewildered 
 sheep, springing to and fro in every direction — whether 
 it was an agitated regiment of ducklings floundering in 
 the middle of the road, having temporarily lost their 
 presence of mind — whether it was a corpulent cart- 
 horse escaped from a field and accidentally entangled 
 in the procession of riders, trotting onwards with 
 a calm and satisfied eye, as if he thought he was 
 no small addition to the respectability of the 
 party. 
 
 As soon as they got into a broader road, Nugent left 
 the two young ladies to John's care, and rode forwards 
 until he was in a hne with Gertrude and her com- 
 panion. For some time he had not an opportunity of 
 putting in a word. Sir Eliot was fluent, and, not being 
 oppressed with modesty, brought readily to the smface 
 of his mind all that a retentive memory had stored there. 
 Gertrude seemed decidedly amused. Then when Nugent 
 did say something in explanation of a local legend or 
 superstition. Sir Eliot waited when he had done 
 speaking as if he expected more to foUow; pohtely 
 bending his ear towards him in patient anticipation of
 
 122 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 the point of the story. Having thus mildly damped 
 Nugent's inclination to talk, Sir Eliot began to ask 
 questions about his farm, his crops, and his live stock, 
 as if adjusting his conversation to Nugent's farmer-like 
 calibre. 
 
 "By the bye, Mr. Nugent," he exclaimed, pointing 
 with his whip, " that's your arable yonder, if I mistake 
 not. You've got it into very fair order now. It must 
 be hard work for you walking over that clay land. 
 But I suppose you arm yourself with stout shoes, and a 
 good honest pair of gaiters. How are oats now? 
 Flattish, I fear. Ah ! you must have many an anxious 
 night of it. Yes, Miss Usherwood, you may smile, but 
 farmers have a wearing life of it ; a vv^earing life. Up 
 early and down late ! By the bye, Mr. Nugent, I should 
 like to buy a likely young sow, if you can spare one. You 
 are famous for pigs, I know. But then you don't spare 
 trouble with them. 111 be bound. Yf hy, there's Wiiggles 
 now, a tenant of mine. He gets up at two in the morn- 
 ing to turn his prize pigs over on their side v/ith his 
 own hands, and feeds them with suet dumplings ! How 
 do you like Gubbins, the new landlord of the ' Jolly 
 Farmers?' I beheve that's where you put up on 
 market-days. Much company there ? Ah ! I'U answer 
 for it, you have many a merry meeting after the cares of 
 the market ! Gubbins was my grooin, and is a good 
 judge of malt liquor; at least he ought to be, for he 
 has swallowed a good many hogsheads in his day.
 
 THE RIVALS. 123 
 
 Don't you let him impose on any of you, Mr. Nugent. 
 He's a sharp dog." 
 
 In this strain Sir Eliot persevered, seemingly intent 
 on exhibiting Nugent in the light of a commonplace 
 yeoman. Now, Nugent never pretended to be any 
 thing else than he really was, and at first took Sir 
 Eliot's allusions quietly enough, thus fiTistrating the 
 attempts of his companion to make him ridiculous in 
 Gertrude's eyes. His gentlemanly ease provoked Sir 
 Eliot, and goaded him on farther than he meant, so 
 that Nugent began to comprehend his drift, and seek- 
 ing to give Sir Eliot a check exclaimed — 
 
 " I don't know much about the ' Jolly Farmers,' Sir 
 Ehot ; but certainly some of my fraternity patronize it, 
 and from what they tell me, I suspect !Mr. Gubbins, 
 your late groom, to be rather a mischievous fellow. 
 They say he amuses his customers with no end of 
 anecdotes about his late master." 
 
 " What, with me, sir I with me, sir ? " rephed Sir 
 Eliot, suddenly scarlet with indignation; then com- 
 manding himself, added — " Ha, ha, ha ! a droU dog — a 
 droU dog ! " 
 
 '^ He has a story about the late election, in which you 
 were defeated." 
 
 "Aha ! has he ? — a droll dog, very! Miss Usherwood, 
 wouldn't you like a gallop on that nice bit of turf? " 
 
 " Oh ! I should so like to hear about the election," ex- 
 claimed Gertrude, provokingly reining in her horse.
 
 124 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 " Do tell us, Mr. Nugent ! It's only fair to Sir 
 Eliot." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " exclaimed Sir Eliot ; '^ it's a good 
 story ; I'll tell it myself. My people shut a blue voter up 
 in a clock-case at the town-clerk's office — he was tipsy 
 of course, and snored so loud that every one thought 
 the clock was bewitched, and the beadle was sent to 
 fetch the parson ! Now, shaU we gallop ? " 
 
 " I don't mean that. Sir Eliot ; it's another story," 
 said Nuc^ent. " I mean about the 2;reen-o;rocer's chll- 
 dren suffering from hooping-cough, who had a violent 
 fit of hooping as your opponent passed the window. 
 You thought they were yeUing out denunciations 
 against him, and kissed them heartily aU round ! Do 
 you remember ? " 
 
 '' Come, come, come ! shall we gallop ? " asked Sir 
 Eliot, impatiently spurring his horse forw^ards. 
 
 We fear that Grertrude rather enjoyed this indirect 
 contention between her two companions. There are 
 few women who dislike being the occasion of a little 
 jealous rivalry and animosity. Not only the novelty 
 of it pleased her, but all the feminine instincts of a 
 girl of eighteen were at work in her breast. 
 
 Accordingly, as they neared home, and Sir Eliot 
 was about to take leave at the comer of the 
 road leading to Winterboume, Gertnide exclaimed — 
 " Oh, I have had a dehghtful ride ! I am sorry it is 
 over.
 
 THE RIVALS. 125 
 
 " Perhaps," said Sir Eliot, " you will allow me the 
 pleasure of joining you in some of your rides ? " 
 
 "I don't make fixed appointments," said Gertrude, 
 laughingly. " If any knight-errant overtakes me in my 
 excursions, I permit him to form one of my suite, pro- 
 vided I feel sociably inclined, and like his colours and 
 coat-of-arms." 
 
 " And whither then, fair princess, and on what day 
 will your steed next bear your peerless form ? " 
 
 " Oh ! that I do not know. Perhaps this day week, at 
 the same spot and the same hour as to-day, but I make 
 no promises." 
 
 Sir Eliot waved his hat, put his hand to his breast 
 with a devoted air, and galloped off. Nugent felt his 
 heart sink. He was grieved and angry, chiefly, as be 
 was fain to believe, because of his brotherly interest in 
 Gertrude, and because he regretted to witness any 
 exhibition of levity towards such a man ; but really, we 
 suspect, because he did not like another to be placed on 
 a par with himself, and that other Sir Eliot Prichard. 
 
 No sooner, however, was Sir Eliot gone, than 
 Gertrude turned to him with a malicious smile, and 
 said, "And you — oh knight of the rueful countenance ! — 
 will you venture in quest of me this day week ? " 
 
 Nugent gravely begged to be excused, and taking 
 leave, wdth an air as he thought of tranquil dignity, but 
 really of profound vexation, rode slowly homew^ards. 
 
 Gertrude brandished her little whip, and with cheeks
 
 126 BELOW THE SURFACE, 
 
 dimpled with smiles, and eyes sparkling with enjoy- 
 ment, cantered away towards home. 
 
 Nugent, we are sorry to say, returned to his dusky 
 library, anxious, dispirited, and vexed. His friend- 
 ship with Gertrude seemed to fade away like a thin 
 cloud that traverses the face of the moon — a mo- 
 ment bright, the next lost in the midnight sky. That 
 he should have excited in the mind of a young and 
 fascinating girl a kindly feeling and a certain degree of 
 interest, had been a source of hope and comfort to him. 
 That she should invite to her side a man, who in her 
 presence had almost insulted him — a man who, whatever 
 his talents, possessed a vulgar heart, and whose words 
 and works plainly showed that self was his all-sufficing 
 idol — argued a low moral taste on her part and a want 
 of consideration for his feelings towards her, which 
 seemed at once to open a gulf between them not 
 easily to be crossed. As for coquetry, or feminine 
 playfulness, Nugent did not know much about matters 
 of this kind. He was simple and straightforward ; and 
 it is probable would not have been made much happier if 
 a friend had suggested that Gertnide simply wanted to 
 make him jealous. 
 
 On his return home that day, he found amongst his 
 letters that had just arrived, one from Sir LawTence 
 Clinton, acknowledging in a fr'iendly manner the letter of 
 condolence he wrote to him some four or five weeks since, 
 which Sir Lawrence said his distressed state of mind had
 
 THE EIVALS. 127 
 
 prevented his doing before. The old man wrote in a 
 more cheerM tone than might have been expected. He 
 informed Nugent that his London physician thought it 
 probable that a mild climate would check the dis- 
 ease from which his son was suffering, and all agreed 
 that the experiment was at least worth trying. 
 
 His father, therefore, intended immediately starting 
 with him for the south. Nugent s?vt down and wrote 
 a few lines of a hopeful character, offering to be of any 
 assistance which the confusion of a hurried departure 
 might render acceptable. 
 
 Then leaving the writing-table, and throwing himself 
 into a rather uncomfortable arm-chair with a very short 
 upright back — the easy-chair, par excellence^ in the 
 room, he gave way to some half-hour's meditation. 
 After which he rose, took down a book entitled 
 " Comfort for the Afflicted " from the shelf, and read it 
 until the daylight began to fail. Even then, however, 
 he still sat before it, with eyes fixed vaguely upon 
 the now illegible page, and one hand supporting his 
 brow. He was interrupted in his reverie by the en- 
 trance of ^Irs. Finchley with candles, followed by the 
 country girl who performed various offices in the estab- 
 lishment, bearing a tea-tray. The housekeeper still 
 kept up some kind of state, and, unless the maid 
 was engaged in incongruous occupations, never 
 brought in her master's meals without being attended 
 by her.
 
 128 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 "Finchley," said Nugent, "have you found any 
 good woman yet who will take charge of the Harrill 
 children?" 
 
 " No, Squire Nugent. I have trudged all over the 
 manor — your manor as v/as once — and the ungratefiil folk 
 make no end of difficulties about it. Widow Maddocks 
 would take one; Mrs. Jenkins, another; and old mother 
 Wrench would take the third; but then, you see, she has 
 got the rheumatics sadly, and they do say she drinks ; and 
 so I fear she wouldn't do justice by them. As for 
 Mrs. Maddocks, she's a good, quiet soul enough, and 
 works hard, and is as honest as you or me, sir, but then 
 she's no Christian." 
 
 " And Mrs. Jenkins ? " asked Nugent. 
 
 " I'm disappointed in that Mrs. Jenkins ; she talks, 
 but that's all. I thought her a decent woman, and 
 fond of a tract ; but I have a misgiving what she 
 likes best is your broth and skim-milk. Squire Nugent. 
 She'll only take one child, and wants too much for 
 that.'' 
 
 " Well, we must wait a while ; we may hear of some- 
 thing by and bye." 
 
 Mrs. Finchley snuiFed out the candles twice, in her agi- 
 tation, at the very name of Mrs. Jenkins. For only 
 the day before she had met that worthy returning from 
 the village shop with half a pound of butter wrapped 
 up in the identical tract she had begged Mrs. Finchley to 
 give her that very morning, with tears in her eyes. Re-
 
 THE RIVALS. 129 
 
 covering herself, however, with an eiFort, Mrs. Finchley 
 smoothed down her ancient silk dress, and, courtesying 
 solemnly at the door, took her departure. 
 
 It may be well to mention here, that the village of 
 Okenham was unexpectedly reheved of Harrill'a 
 motherless children. Some well-to-do relatives of 
 
 Margaret's, in S shire, volmiteered to take charge of 
 
 them. Edward, however, who was regarded as an 
 illegitimate son of HaiTill, was not included in the offer ; 
 and, whilst Nugent and Lovell were debating what to do 
 with the lad, Harrill himself managed to get hold of 
 him, and carried him off to one of the coal-mines at 
 Rentworth. 
 
 Some days passed, and Nugent was once more 
 seemingly absorbed in farming occupations. His men 
 noticed the renewed interest and activity he exhi- 
 bited, and discussed this change of demeanour after 
 work was done — round the blacksmith's shop, on the 
 churchyard stile, over their firesides, or at the beer- 
 shop — with that intense earnestness with which labour- 
 ers discuss the most trivial incident relating to their 
 employer. 
 
 He received more than one invitation from Beau- 
 mont-house; was honoured vnth. another visit from 
 . Mr. XJsherwood; was presented with a pine-apple of 
 moimtainous dimensions, the giffc of Lady Maud. The 
 invitations he politely declined ; the visit he eluded on 
 the plea of business ; the pine-apple he accepted, and 
 
 VOL. I, K
 
 130 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 presented it to Lovell; from whom it passed to the 
 school'Children, who were all under the care of Mr. 
 Grierson the surgeon, on the following day. Thus, Nu- 
 gent's intimacy with the family at Beaumont-house 
 came suddenly to an end. To all appearances he was 
 much the same as previous to his visit there, mth the 
 exception of a few eccentricities noticed by Mrs. Finch- 
 ley; such as a strange indifference to her choicest 
 dishes. This she attributed to a taste corrupted by the 
 delicacies of Beaumont-house ; wliilst Lovell observed 
 that he came to church on Sundays a quarter of an hour 
 before the service began. 
 
 Sir Ehot Prichard had ridden with Gertrude once, at 
 .all events, since their last meeting : how often besides 
 he did not know. On the occasion referred to, Nugent 
 chanced to be overtaken by the riding party, just as he 
 was accompanying his bailiff into a field through w^hich 
 there was a bridle-road. He was in everyday costume, 
 and possibly Sir Eliot really did not recognize him; but 
 that gentleman cried out in a tone of authority — *' Hal- 
 loo ! one of you— just open that gate for us ! " Nugent 
 thought he heard Gertrude call him by name, but he 
 only turned round, and, gravely raising his hat to the 
 advancing party, desired Maddocks to open the gate, 
 whilst he himself crossed the road, and struck into a 
 piece of arable on the opposite side. Nor did he stop un- 
 til he had traversed two or three hundred yards, tram- 
 pling down the ripe wheat with unusual recklessness,
 
 THE RIVALS. 131 
 
 and causing unspeakable anguish of mind to three young 
 trespassers In the act of devouring unripe blackberries at 
 an adjacent hedge, who concluded he was in full pursuit 
 of them. 
 
 Sir Ehot, who had no intention of seriously affronting 
 Nugent, but simply laboured under the notion that in 
 love-making and courtship all stratagems were la^vful, 
 left his card upon him the next day through the agency 
 of a small groom, clad in neat hver\^, astride of a very 
 large horse. This young gentleman handed the card 
 with difficulty to Mrs. Finchley ; having to stoop down 
 so far that 'he almost threw himself, as well as the 
 card, into that lad/s outstretched hand. Then, in an 
 easy way, requesting a light for his cigar, to the dis- 
 gust of 'Mis. Finchley who pretended not to hear him, 
 and bowing gracefully to Xugent, whom he saw at the 
 window, he trotted off, and disappeared from sight some 
 time before the large animal that bore him. This apolo- 
 getic move on the part of Sir Ehot was duly acknow- 
 ledged by Xugent, who sent his card to Winterbourne 
 — Sir Ehot's seat — by the hand of the gardener's boy, 
 tidily wrapped up in a piece of old newspaper. 
 
 Whatever may have been, however, Nugent's secret 
 intentions, and however dehberately he may have laid 
 down a plan for his future guidance, an occuri'ence 
 took place which he either had not foreseen, or had 
 not sufficiently taken into account, and completely 
 baffled his calculations.
 
 132 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 He did not often approacli the park surrounding 
 Beaumont-house. One day, however, having been 
 calling on Colonel Clair, whose house was situate on 
 the side of the valley opposite to his own, he felt an in- 
 clination to choose for his way home a pleasant lane 
 passing by a picturesque little church, about a mile and 
 a half from Beaumont-house. It was the same 
 lane we have already briefly noticed. Nugent had 
 two or three times ridden in that direction in company 
 with Gertrude. As he approached the large walnut- 
 trees rising at intervals over the grass sward w^hich 
 clothed the hlU-side, liis countenance became sadder, 
 and, stopping for a few minutes, he thoughtfully surveyed 
 the scene. A little distance from the lane, near a lofty 
 walnut, whose straggling branches, heavy with fra- 
 grant leaves, cast a cool shade on the ground beneath, 
 Nugent suddenly detected, half-concealed in the grass, 
 a lady's glove. He took it up, and hastily searched 
 for some name or mark by which to identify it. The 
 initials, " G. U." written in the inside, met his 
 eye. 
 
 Nugent stood for a moment vrithout moving. A 
 struggle seemed to be passing within him. Then, as 
 if acting under some stern impulse, he dropped the glove 
 where hfe had found it, and abruptly turned to depart. 
 On turning round, however, he perceived, seated at the 
 foot of one of the trees adjacent, a young lady with a 
 sketch-book on her lap, on which she had been drawing.
 
 THE RIVALS. 133 
 
 Bat her eyes were now turned towards Nugent, and her 
 hand no longer held the pencil. 
 
 It was Gertrude. The meeting was embarrassing 
 to both parties. Nugent would have bowed and passed 
 on ; but she regarded him so calmly and sadly, with an 
 expression so different to what he had last seen on her 
 countenance — not making; the slio:htest advance to- 
 wards him, but sitting in grave contemplation of his 
 movements — that his resolution gave way, and coming 
 towards her he said, in a confused sort of way, that 
 he hoped she had been quite well since they 
 had last met. Looking down, she replied in a low 
 voice — 
 
 " I should never have spoken to you, Mr. Nugent, as 
 long as I lived, if you had not first spoken to me." 
 
 " I beg your pardon if I have been rude — if I have 
 in any way offended you." 
 
 " You may have been rude ; but it does not follow I 
 shoidd have thought it necessary to be offended,'* 
 answered Gertrude a httle proudly. 
 
 " I would suffer much — indeed I would — rather than 
 give you the smallest cause of annoyance," continued 
 Nugent. " I have felt severely the cessation of all 
 intercourse between us. Some of the happiest hours 
 of my life have been spent in your society. But why 
 do I revert to them ? They are past — they are gone by 
 for ever! I have striven. Miss Usherwood — I have 
 striven hard to forget you "
 
 134 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 " Thank you," interrupted Gertrude, with something 
 like a smile. " That was friendly." 
 
 *^ I have striven to forget you," continued Nugent ; 
 " to devote myself to worldly realities ; to walk in the 
 light of common day ; but the task is hard." 
 
 " Pray," exclaimed Gertrude, " what is the meaning 
 of this excitement — of this animosity towards me ? 
 What is all this mystery about ? If you have taken a 
 dislike to mamma, and to all of us — say no more about 
 it, but avoid us for the future. None of us will thwart 
 you in your determination." 
 
 Gertrude quietly took up her pencil, and began to 
 draw, but her hand slightly trembled. Nugent stood 
 before her, endeavouring to weigh his words. Then he 
 said — 
 
 " Miss Usherwood, believe me, there are few living 
 creatures towards whom I bear animosity ; towards you 
 least of all. I have not intruded on you of late for many 
 reasons. I believe a secluded life safer and better for 
 such as I am." 
 
 " Well, if that be so, far be it from me to argue the 
 point. Perhaps, however, you will condescend to give 
 me my glove, which I think I saw you fling away just 
 now." 
 
 Nugent coloured and picked up the glove, with- 
 out, however, returning it to Gertrude. He then 
 said — 
 
 "Forgive me, but I cannot explain all that passed
 
 THE RIVALS. 135 
 
 through my mind when I saw and touched this glove. 
 I know that I am slow and awkward — a mere farmer, as 
 your fiiend considers me and treats me " 
 
 " TMiom do you mean by ' my friend ? ' " asked Ger- 
 trude, with anger flashing firom her eyes, and a heightened 
 colour. 
 
 Nugent, in a rather faltering voice, answered — "I 
 mean Sir EKot Prichard, who so often accompanies you 
 in your rides, and who almost insulted me in your pre- 
 sence." 
 
 " How unkind— how unjust I " exclaimed Gertrude, 
 rising suddenly, and speaking with rapidity. " It is very 
 wrong, sir — it is very unseemly to caU any one my 
 firiend. I am surprised you should treat me so " 
 
 Nugent stood in some confusion. In a moment she 
 would be gone, and yet she looked so very lovely, even 
 in her displeasure. So with precipitation he exclaimed — 
 
 " I heartily and sincerely beg your pardon I Indeed 
 I am very sorry. Do not leave me thus I " 
 
 Gertrude hesitated, and Nugent taking courage, said — 
 
 " Let me keep this glove merely as a token of for- 
 giveness. WiU you, Miss Usherwood ? " 
 
 His voice betrayed more feeling than he wished ; but 
 Gertrude, sitting down on the low rustic bench from 
 which she had risen, said — 
 
 " No ! It would quite upset all your plans about for- 
 settino^ me." 
 
 " Do not leave me vrithout a kind word," pursued
 
 136 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Nugent. ** I know we must part ; of course so : 
 but do not let your last glance be scornful and 
 indignant." 
 
 " Why do you provoke me, tben ? " replied Gertrude. 
 " What right have you to taunt me about any one I 
 choose to ride with ? " 
 
 " Forgive me — I have been insolent, presuming I " ex- 
 claimed Nugent earnestly. "It was kind, most kind 
 of you to suffer me to accompany you at all. It was not 
 my place to interfere with you, or dictate to you 
 what friendships you should form. Say that you 
 have forgiven me. I shaU return to my solitary home 
 with a less heavy heart if you will say that you forgive 
 me, and that we part friends." Gertrude's head was 
 turned away. After a pause she said, half to herself, 
 whilst she hastily collected her drawing materials — 
 
 " To think that I care for that disagreeable man ! I 
 cannot bear him I I wish I had never seen him ! " 
 
 She rose abruptly. Nugent was disturbed by the 
 conflicting thoughts that rushed through his mind. A 
 haze seemed to spread over the landscape round him. 
 He felt, however, that she was going from him, and that 
 he shoidd never perhaps have an opportunity of speaking 
 to her again. In a voice indistinct from emotion, he 
 almost involuntarily exclaimed " Gertrude ! " She 
 turned her face suddenly, and he saw that it was 
 bathed in tears. The next instant he was seated beside 
 her, pressing her hand to his lips, and uttering, as
 
 THE RIVALS. 137 
 
 the gravest men are apt to do under tlie circumstances, 
 a great many extravagant things. 
 
 Meantime, the butler at Beaumont-house was waitmg 
 to sound the gong for dinner ; but Miss Usherwood "was 
 not forthcommg. Gradually the whole establishment was 
 in commotion at her non-appearance. A party of hght 
 infantry, consisting of two footmen, all the gardeners, 
 and a page who had once been shapely, but now pre- 
 sented a decidedly bloated aspect— aided by the 
 cavalry of the gamson, consisting of the coachman 
 and groom — scoured the vicinity of the mansion. 
 Lady Maud walked up and do^vn the lawn in front 
 of the house in some imeasiness. ^Ir. Usherwood 
 followed her example, keeping about ten paces 
 distance, and diversifying the promenade by an occa- 
 sional retreat to the entrance-hall, where he refreshed 
 himself with sherry and water. The two gu'ls sat in a 
 comer of the school-room conversing in whispers, and, 
 carried away by the general excitement, sometimes shed 
 tears, and sometimes kissed each other. Miss Beverley 
 gradually worked herself up to a pitch of desperation, 
 and seizing a nightcap she had been fiu-tively trimming, 
 put it on her head in mistake for a bonnet ; rushed out 
 of the house by a back-door ; and hurried along the high- 
 road without the least idea where she was going, but 
 under a full persuasion that she was materially assisting 
 in the search for Gertrude. The screams of mingled 
 admiration and amusement which her peculiar head-
 
 138 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 dress elicited from some school-children in the road re- 
 called her to herself, and she stopped, with professional 
 promptitude, to rebuke their rudeness. Discovering 
 the next instant the state of her toilette, she abandoned 
 the field precipitately, and fled homewards indignant but 
 abashed. As she reached the house, she found that the 
 missing Gertrude was safe at home, having just returned 
 through the shrubberies at the back of the house. 
 
 It was not particularly agreeable to Gertrude's feelings 
 to find such an extraordinary bustle and excitement pre- 
 vailing on her account. It seemed as though her recent 
 interview with Nugent had been specially noted, and 
 witnessed by every member of the household, and was 
 somehow intimately connected with the disturbance. 
 She blushed to the tips of her fingers as Lady Maud 
 and her father alternately took her in their arms, and 
 caressed and scolded her in one and the same breath. 
 
 " Naughty child ! " cried Lady ^laud. " How you 
 have heated yourself! Kiss me, darling. I am quite 
 angry with you." 
 
 " Poor thing — poor thing!" exclaimed ^Ir.Usherwood, 
 pressing her to his side, and smoothing her long hair 
 from her forehead, " How her heart beats! Why, you 
 must have run all the way home! Have a glass of 
 sherry, dear ; there's some in the hall." 
 
 " Sherry, my dear !" interposed Lady Maud. ** How 
 can you talk so ? Lean on my arm, dear, and let us go 
 in. Here, Paine," she added, as that domestic ap-
 
 THE RIVALS. 139 
 
 peared at the liall-door with the never-fallmg diminu- 
 tive smellincr-bottle in her hand, " shut the windows 
 in my room ; there is too much air there." 
 
 " Shut the windows in Lady Maud's room I" re-echoed 
 Mr. Usherwood in an enerc^etic voice. The two sisters 
 now emerged from the echool-room in a state of up- 
 roarious rapture. jNIiss Beverley, what with sympathy, 
 fatigue, and excitement, sat down on a flower-stand to 
 the serious discomposure of a row of Jenny Lind gera- 
 niums, and energetically wiped her eyes with the 
 head-dress before alluded to, crumpled up into a small 
 muslin ball, from whence depended two long strings of 
 white tape. Gertrude, who by this time was beginning 
 to laugh and cry simultaneously, was hurried off by her 
 mother, and, at her own earnest request, left alone. 
 The various parties sent to explore the neighbourhood 
 dropped in one after another, hot, jaded, and dusty. 
 John the coachman appeared last, having made a 
 formal circuit of the estate, in compliance with Lady 
 Maud's injunction. Presently after, old Andrew crept 
 up from the lodge, carrying his venerable gun, and in- 
 quiring if he could be of any use. Soon the house was 
 restored to peace, and Lady Maud and Mr. ITshenvood 
 sat down to dine off burnt soup, fish boiled to jelly, and 
 fowls partially reduced to ashes, with much relish and 
 satisfaction.
 
 140 BELOW THE SUErACE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NUGENT IN THE CONFESSIONAL. 
 
 Nugent returned home in rather an exhilarated state 
 of mind. Certainly it was very delightful to find that so 
 sweet a crirl as Gertrude Usherwood cared for him in 
 the smallest degree. His heart beat hghtly as he strode 
 homewards. Objects he had seen that very morning 
 bore now a different aspect. That piece of grass was 
 not half so brown as he had thought it to be. The 
 swedes were coming up pretty well, after all. That 
 ploughman yonder had really ploughed the furrows 
 not so very crooked. He was sorry he had eluded him 
 80 sharply about it. He would give him a bit of tobacco 
 next time he passed him at work. The Manor-house 
 looked quite pretty. !Many people would admire it, he 
 thought. Then, the fine trees, and the rich landscape 
 all round, with the far-off roar of the sea the other side 
 of the hill ; it was not so bad, after aU ! The hbrary 
 is dark ; but how soothing in the glare of a summer's 
 day ! A great deal might be made of that house, he 
 thought. The drawing-room, and some of the bed- 
 rooms, must be new furnished of course ; and then the
 
 NUGEXT IN THE COXTESSIOXAL. 141 
 
 room with the muUioned-window, looking into the lawn 
 at the west end, would make quite a lady's boudoir. 
 He was buoyed up with a strange, new feeling of joy. 
 His eyes would now and then grow moist with tears, he 
 scarce knew why. Thoughts more vivid and varied 
 than usual traversed his mind. He sent Maddocks home 
 grinning from ear to ear at some humorous saying, and 
 astonished ]\lrs. Finchley by a hearty shake of the hand 
 on entering the house. Soon, however, graver con- 
 siderations presented themselves. He was a con- 
 scientious man, and had not felt this unwonted 
 access of good spirits very long, before he began 
 asking himself — " Have I any right to be so happy ? 
 Let me see — let me reflect." He began to feel less 
 satisfied as the first glow past off, and the sober 
 reaHties of to-day's liistory were calmly unfolded before 
 his mind. 
 
 It was true that Gertrude Usherwood had looked 
 upon him kindly, gently, even tenderly, that very day. 
 It was true that he had felt her small hand tremble with 
 emotion as he held it in his own under the shade of 
 that old walnut-tree. It was true that those lustrous', 
 dark-coloured eyes had for a moment looked up at his 
 face with a kind of shy, tremulous, self-reproachfiil 
 glance of affection. It was true that that musical voice 
 had dropped lower and lower as it half confessed the 
 sympathy and love which its very softness and hesita- 
 tion had already revealed. This was true. Yet,
 
 142 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 wlio was Gertrude? A young girl, barely eighteen, 
 brought up in luxury, accustomed to every species of 
 refined enjoyment, reared in the expectation of largely 
 sharins: in the oraieties and distractions of fashionable life ; 
 little acquainted with any but those of her own sex ; little 
 acquainted with the real predilections and antipathies of 
 her own heart. Even if her parents consented to their 
 union — which Nugent in his modesty much doubted, 
 and, had it not been for the civilities recently lavished 
 upon him, would have thought preposterous — could she 
 herself, could Gertrude, be happy in a quiet secluded 
 home, wath a man indeed devoted to her, but of different 
 tastes to herself, not familiar with fashionable life, and 
 obliged by the nature of his avocations to be much and 
 often from home ? 
 
 These thoughts cast a shadow over his mind ; but in 
 such questions the judgment is often disturbed, and 
 the heart dethrones the intellect. We endeavour 
 to give due weight to the painful suggestions of ex- 
 perience and of conscience. We pause and ponder — 
 but the next moment a throng of pleasant fancies come 
 'rushino- through the brain ; plausible ideas spring into 
 life on all sides ; the shadows fade away ; hope stimu- 
 lates our whole being ; the present is a whirl of enjoy- 
 ment; the future lies bright and warm in peaceful 
 sunshine. 
 
 Had Nugent been gradually informed of Ger- 
 trude's partiality towards him, he would doubtless
 
 NUGENT IN THE CONFESSIONAL. 143 
 
 have retained more complete command over his feelings; 
 but he had been wholly taken by sm^prise. His very 
 humility and diffidence had been a snare to him. It 
 had not occurred to him that any one woman, much more 
 one whom he regarded as a sort of lovely vision in 
 quite another sphere to his own, could exhibit real, posi- 
 tive affection for him. It was strange and thrilling to 
 feel that such a being was ready to go with him wherever 
 he would, and share all his fortunes with a loving confi- 
 dence. 
 
 He could not all at once tear her image from his 
 heart, and trample under foot these sweet anticipations 
 of happiness. He owed something, he thought, to her- 
 self. He had, without any selfish motive, or rather 
 quite unconsciously, made an impression on her heart 
 and in a manner linked it to his own. It would not now 
 be right abruptly to sever himself from her, unless 
 indeed her parents distinctly and formally urged him 
 so to do. They must decide for her, and by their 
 decision he would honestly abide. 
 
 Nugent lay awake most of that night, musino- over 
 what had occurred, and almost against his will pic- 
 turing to liimself the scenes the future might 
 have in store for him. Sleep, however, came at last, 
 and he did not awake until the farm-yard and offices in 
 the rear of the I\Ianor-house began to re-echo with 
 the customary clamour of each returning day, softened 
 indeed by distance, and by intervening shrubberies and
 
 144 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 trees ; but still, to the attentive ear, plainly and continu- 
 ously audible. Then as Nugent hastily arose, in the 
 light of a grey autumnal dawn, feeling still fatigued with 
 the unwonted excitement of the day before, the great 
 event on his memory rose distinctly before him, no 
 longer softened and adorned by the touches of an 
 exalted fancy, and the glow of a heart unaccustomed to 
 the 2:entle a2:itation of love. He felt inclined to de- 
 spond : to rebuke himself severely : to cast about for 
 some means whereby he might undo what had past. It 
 was not for himself he feared, but for Gertrude. She may 
 have been surprised into an affection for one who would 
 never suit her as a husband ; who would never have 
 attracted her if she had been previously introduced into 
 a larger sphere of society. 
 
 After having transacted some of the usual business of 
 the day, Nugent sat down to breakfast ; but the home- 
 made rolls were scarcely touched, the new laid eggs, 
 the delicate slices of broiled ham, the fresh water- 
 cresses, were pushed aside untasted. 
 
 " I really think this is a case for consulting some one," 
 he said. 
 
 For the reader may understand that Nugent was not 
 a man generally inchned to run after people for advice. 
 The notion, then, of consulting any body, betokened that 
 he was seriously agitated. 
 
 "But whom?" There was no one in the vicinity 
 who, for one moment, seemed to him a fit recipient of
 
 NUGENT IX THE COXFESSIOXAL. 145 
 
 his confidence save Lovell. As liis clergyman, Lovell 
 it might be supposed would have been the natural 
 resource for his troubled mind, and the first person to 
 occur to liim. But, unhappily, the difference in their 
 views and in their tastes kept them more apart than 
 was good fi^r either. Xot but that to a certain degree 
 they liked and esteemed each other ; not but that they 
 wished well to each other, and hoped the best fi^r each 
 other. Still, considering that Nugent had been brought 
 up by Puritan parents : had read httle in theology but 
 the works of those divines of the Enghsh Church who 
 fraternize most with Puritans : had seen a good deal, 
 not merely in Lovell's principles, but in his practice, 
 which gave hhn pain and vexation : it was not likely 
 he should take warmly to him as a friend and com- 
 panion, or derive from his ministrations, and from his 
 near vicinity, that comfort and assistance which every 
 clerorvman ousrht certainly to afford to those over whom 
 he is appointed pastor. 
 
 It may be said that there is a distrust, a reserve, a self- 
 sufficiency on the part of the laity, wliich necessarily 
 repels the ministers of religion, and ties their hands. 
 It may, however, be questioned whether there are not 
 a number of minds amongst all classes, who would 
 not feel great comfort and rehef in sometimes engaging 
 in intimate converse with their clergymen, provided 
 those clergymen gave them due encouragement so 
 to do. But such encourag:ement cannot be afforded 
 
 VOL. L L
 
 146 BELOTV THE SUEFACE. 
 
 1;y any abrupt or fonnal demonstration. It must be 
 tendered in tlie shape of earnest sympathy and unselfish 
 anxiety, not once or tAvice a-year, but whenever occasion 
 offers. It must be apparent in the general tone of the 
 clergyman's bearing, both inside and outside the house 
 of God. Moreover, it is desu^able that some know- 
 ledge of human nature, not merely of patristic human 
 natm^, nor of collegiate human nature, but of Eng- 
 Hsh human natiue — without reference to class, sta- 
 tion, or employment — should have been acquired by any 
 one to whom a cure of souls is committed. 
 
 Eetuming to Lovell, then, he was a really devoted 
 and single-hearted parish priest. It might be said 
 that his whole heart and mind were in his work. 
 The chiuch bell rang regularly for daily prayer. The 
 village school children saw him daily at the self- 
 same hour, and listened to his premeditated instruc- 
 tions. The sick and sufiTering knew his face quite as 
 well as their doctor's ; his pm^se was open to them, 
 more than was perhaps strictly prudent ; his earnest 
 prayers and tender sympathy reached their hearts 
 better than a^y amount of material gifts coidd have 
 done. 
 
 Such plain tokens of sincerity and zeal could not but 
 win the esteem, not merely of the poor, but of the stm^dy 
 farmers in the parish, who to speak without ceremony 
 like to see their clergyman fairly earn his stipend. 
 Kevertheless, LoveU had some enemies in the parish,
 
 NUGENT IN THE CONFESSIONAL. 147 
 
 and very few hearty friends except amongst the labour- 
 ing class. He was often at issue with half his congre- 
 gation ; was suspected to be a Papist ; had from time to 
 time thro^\Ti the whole parish into a state of hot 
 water ; had seriously disturbed the equanimity of that 
 useful referee, the " oldest inhabitant." With the best 
 intentions, with a devoted heart, with an amiable dis- 
 position, he often created an alarming tempest, and that 
 about the most trifling points. This partly arose from 
 want of general information, and too hmited an acquaint- 
 ance mth the habits and feelings of ordinary Enghsh- 
 men; — partly from following too imphcitly the dicta 
 of hterary men^ contributors to magazines in vogue 
 amongst his own set or amongst clergymen whom he 
 justly admired for some good quahties, and therefore 
 conceived must possess all good quahties. Thus, he 
 would adopt a crude theory, or seize a sudden notion 
 dropped from the brain of one of the leaders of his 
 theological school ; theories and notions filtered through 
 the discolouring medium of many minds before reach- 
 ing his own. He would take up some idea of this sort, 
 and with a vigour, in itself creditable, endeavour to carry 
 it out in defiance of every difficulty, and shutting his 
 eyes to all immediate consequences. It was unfor- 
 tunate that Lovell had no men of his own way of 
 thinking to advise with, of maturer judgment and more 
 enlarged experience than himself. There was indeed 
 Smithers, late Fellow of Oriel, who had been prevailed
 
 148 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 on to accept a pleasant living some mUes from Oken- 
 ham. Smithers was a man of vivacity and parts, but 
 had grown grey in the discharge of onerous collegiate 
 duties — the enjoyment, that is to say, of Hterary leisure, 
 architectural tours, select wine parties, and small tea- 
 meetings where the air was redolent of eau-de-Cologne 
 and pppery. Smithers had all his own way at Sweet- 
 borough. It was a snug little parish, with rectorial and 
 vicarial tithes thrown together, and a great squire who 
 was for a wonder liberal with his purse. The two or 
 three principal ratepayers were the squire's tenants, 
 and they passed their leisure hours in admiring the 
 squire, and the squn-e's parson, namely, the Eev. 
 Augustine Smithers. Therefore, Smithers did exactly 
 what he hked. But he forgot that all his brother 
 clergymen were not so fortunately placed. StiU he 
 was decidedly looked up to by the high church clergy, 
 and his opinion regarded as law. There was Smithers 
 then to advise him. As for the bishop of the diocese, 
 Lovell had heard that there was one, but was not yet 
 personally cognizant of the fact. 
 
 Now, the first thing Lovell did on entering upon his 
 ministerial duties, was to make some reforms hi the 
 performance of divine service, and in the internal 
 arrangements and fittings of the sacred edifice. His 
 predecessor had been a good quiet sort of a man, with 
 inadequate notions of his responsibilities. People were 
 rather glad to get a more active man. His predecessor
 
 NUGENT IN THE CONFESSIONAL. 149 
 
 read the communion-service from the reading-desk. 
 Lovell very properly restored the practice of reading 
 the service in front of the Lord's table, within the pre- 
 cincts of the chancel. But, not content with this, he 
 went to some expense in erecting a carved stained-deal 
 screen, to separate the chancel from the rest of the 
 church, which sadly obstructed the free passage of his 
 voice. It was reverently meant, but the farmers were 
 first puzzled and then angry. They could not hear 
 him; so he was obliged to thrust his head right up 
 against the screen, in order to make his voice audible. 
 Again his predecessor used, when the first lesson was 
 long, or had several proper names in it, to substitute 
 another in its place. Lovell of course dropped this 
 indecorous practice, but took care to introduce the 
 bidding-prayer before the sermon. This he repeated 
 in a rapid monotonous tone, which made half his 
 congregation stand aghast. It was soon currently re- 
 ported, that Lovell used Latin prayers during divine 
 service. 
 
 Smithers one day took him by the button, and assured 
 him it was the correct thing to preach after the third 
 collect at evening prayer, and not at the end of the 
 service. Lovell, accordingly, did so, but the congregation 
 supposed he had merely taken the liberty to omit half 
 the prayers, and accordingly they quitted the church 
 directly his sermon was over, without waiting for the 
 conclusion of the service. So he thought the plan did
 
 150 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 not entirely answer, and discontinued it. Then he 
 had a grand dispute with Nugent about the royal 
 arms. They used to hang above the commandment 
 tables. Lovell said they had no business in the 
 church at all. That it was erastianism — dangerous 
 subserviency to the civil power — in fact, sheer idolatry. 
 The other churchwarden having been in a state of 
 imbecility for some years, and only retained in office 
 from regard to the feeKngs of his family — the whole 
 battle was between Nugent and the young clergyman. 
 Nugent said he was no courtier, but it was his duty to 
 see that no disrespect was done to the Queen, the first 
 magistrate in the land. It ended in a compromise. The 
 royal arms were removed from the east end of the 
 church, and hung up at the west end. They were 
 newly painted for the occasion, and the lion and unicorn 
 came out with a ghastly splendour, which sent a thrill 
 of loyal awe into the hearts of the school children. 
 
 Lovell, however, with Nugent's cautious co-operation, 
 did some real good in the church in the way of repara- 
 tion and improvement, but created a frightful dis- 
 turbance, by restoring the nose and three fingers of 
 a small stone figure under a sculptured canopy in some 
 out-of-the-way nook of the building. Nobody had ever 
 quarrelled with the figure before, and never would 
 have done so, but when they saw the renovated nose, 
 and the restcfred fingers, there w^as a great outcry ; and 
 one old lady (related to the imbecile churchwarden) wrote
 
 NUGENT IN THE CONFESSIONAL. 151 
 
 a long letter to the archbishop of Canterbury on the 
 subject. The archbishop blandly interfered, and it ended 
 in the nose and fingers being removed. After which 
 the stonn was appeased, and LoveU and the statue sub- 
 mitted to their disappointment with becoming fortitude. 
 
 Nevertheless, Nugent, when in real trouble or anxiety, 
 knew no one in the vicinity whom he could consider a 
 fitter person to consult than Lovell; partly because Nu- 
 gent felt he was thoroughly in earnest, partly because he 
 was so fiill of sympathy with the distress of others. Con- 
 sequently, after a little consideration, Nugent set out for 
 the parsonage, which was at no great distance from the 
 farm. As he crossed the road, which descended the 
 hill behind the farm on which the parsonage was situ^ 
 ated, he saw in the distance a figure coming in the 
 same du'ection as himself. It was clad in white volu- 
 minous garments, and Nugent could not tell what to 
 make of it. On coming closer, however, he perceived 
 that it was no other than Lovell dressed in his surplice 
 with an ordinary hat on his head, endeavouring as he 
 moved along to prevent his dress from sweeping the 
 ground by holding it up with one hand. Perceiving that 
 Nugent was a little perplexed at his costume, Lovell, 
 after exchanging a few words, observed in an explana-r- 
 tory tone of voice — 
 
 "You see, ]Mr. Nugent, I have lately come to the 
 conclusion that the clergy ought to go to and from the 
 church in their ministerial vestments. We sadly under-
 
 152 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 value in modern days the utility of external appear- 
 ances. A clergyman in his eurphce passing through the 
 Tillage is a signal that the church is about to open for 
 public prayer, or that public prayer is just concluded. 
 I have just been saying matins.*' 
 
 Nugent thought the surpHce had rather an eccentric 
 look, particularly in conjunction with the hat. 
 
 " Why, you see,'* said Lovell^ " there was an unplea- 
 sant sensation created ; and Smithers recommended I 
 should make some concession. Accordingly, I laid aside 
 the college cap which I wore at first with my surplice, 
 and adopted a plain 1 9th century hat. I hope this com- 
 promise will be received in the spirit it is offered. But 
 here we are at the parsonage ! Will you come in, Mr. 
 Nugent ? " 
 
 Nugent followed the young clergyman into his house, 
 a mixture of farm-house and cottage, with a little 
 flower garden in front, and a little kitchen garden 
 behind that might have been productive, had it 
 not been for the depredations committed by poultry, 
 J)Igs, and dogs, from neighbouring cottages and farm 
 yards. Those individuals paid him periodical visits 
 both by day and night, and slightly disturbed the equani- 
 mity of LovelFs gardener, a lame old man, whose prin- 
 cipal horticultural exertions consisted in waging war 
 upon the trespassers above mentioned. The sitting- 
 room wag simply furnished, but contained a handsome 
 book-case, pretty well stocked with standard works, and
 
 NUGENT IN THE CONFESSIONAL. 1 53 
 
 a few good prints hanging against the walls. There was 
 also a fine old Elizabethan arm-chair, into which Nugent 
 was about to throw himself, but was gently stopped by 
 LoveU, who intimated that it was too worm-eaten and 
 crazy to bear any one's weight. Selecting then a more 
 substantial seat, Nugent, whilst his companion divested 
 himself of his surphce, proceeded to state, in a voice of 
 much composm'e but with a heightened colour, that he 
 had something on his mind about which he desired to 
 ask LoveU's advice. The young clergyman, who, having 
 attired himself in a dressing-gown of great length and 
 composed of black cloth, looked awfully monastic, shut 
 the door of the sitting-room, and, proceeding to another 
 part of the room^ threw open a small door leading into 
 a sort of boudoir, or oratory, the furniture of which ap- 
 peared to consist of one high-backed chair and a large 
 hassock. 
 
 ^' If it is any thing very serious," said LoveU, " per- 
 haps we had best step in here." 
 
 " Oh, not at aU — at least, this room will do just as 
 well ! " rephed Nugent, rather disconcerted. " The fact 
 is, you see it is a matter in which a young lady is con- 
 cerned — a young lady in the immediate neighbourhood 
 — a person to whom I am very much attached — and I 
 wanted to talk the matter over with you, feeling doubt- 
 ful, what course to pursue. You see marriage is a serious 
 step, Lovell, both for her and me." 
 
 " Oh !" was LoveU's rejoinder, and with that he re-
 
 154 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 closed the little door he had just opened, and with a 
 countenance exhibiting a slight shade of disappoint- 
 ment, tempered by amusement, he sat down opposite 
 to Nugent, and waited patiently for the latter to open 
 his mind more fully. 
 
 It was some time before that reserved nature unwound 
 itself completely, and enabled Lovell to comprehend the 
 rights of the case, and the causes of his uneasiness. 
 Lovell's first impulse was to adjourn the interview, and 
 confer with the Rev. Augustine Smithers, late of Oriel, 
 in the mean time. But there was no room for delay, and 
 Lovell was thrown upon his own unaided resources. He 
 took Nugent's hand wdth a sudden friendliness and said 
 — " I tell you what, my dear fellow, I don't see what 
 you can do but go to the young lady's parents, and put 
 yourself entirely in their hands. Of course, I have a 
 pretty clear notion who the young lady is, and all about 
 it ; and I must say, my private impression is that the 
 parents approve of the match, and, in fact, have pur- 
 posely thrown you together. This being so, they are 
 quite as responsible for what may happen as you yourself 
 are. I should say, go at once and talk the thing well 
 over with the parents. Give them all due authority in 
 the matter ; for as ^liss Usherwood — I beg a thousand 
 pardons — I mean the person to whom you are attached, 
 is so very young, they should certainly be the arbiters, 
 and decide for or against a marriage." 
 
 " But I fear," said Nugent, " I fear we are not suited
 
 NUGEXT IX THE COXFESSIOXAL. 155 
 
 to each other ! I fear there is too much discrepancy of 
 tastes not to say inequahty of age ! " 
 
 " Excuse me," said Lovell, " but you ought to have 
 thought of that before." 
 
 " True enough/' rejoined Xugent ; " but you see I 
 never thought she would care for me. However, I will 
 take your advice, and put myself in her parents' hands;" 
 and he rose to depart. 
 
 "By the bye/' interrupted Lovell, "how came it you 
 were not at the vestry meeting yesterday ? " 
 
 " T\liy, to tell the truth," said Nugent, " I was afraid 
 I should be forced to take part against you, and so, as 
 you had plenty of adversaries ^^^thout me, I stayed 
 away." 
 
 "I had, indeed," rejoined Lovell. "There was a sad 
 exhibition of insubordinate, not to say unchristian feel- 
 ing!" 
 
 " Your proposal was to do away with some of the 
 pews, was it not ? " asked Nugent. 
 
 ""With all! I wished to destroy them a/Z/ I wish 
 I could sweep them from the face of the earth. They 
 are blots and ulcers on the fair face of om' beloved 
 mother the Church." 
 
 " Well, and how did you get on ? " 
 
 "Oh! I concisely explained how offensive and tin- 
 sightly those huge deal boxes without lids, must be in 
 the eyes of ' every man of enlightened judgment, en- 
 larged religious sympathies, and correct architectural
 
 156 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 taste.' I thouglit this ratlier neat, but it made no im- 
 pression beyond eliciting a laugh from your brother 
 churchwardeu, who, notwithstanding his imbecile con- 
 dition, was brought into the vestry for form's sake. 
 Then I urged upon the rate-payers the impropriety of 
 thrusting Christ's poor into the worst places in the 
 church, where they bitterly felt the cold and could 
 scarce hear their clergyman's voice — still no impression ! 
 Whilst to my profound disgust, I fancied I heard someone 
 snoring close behind me! Then I explained how the pews 
 took up a great deal too much space, how they screened 
 the ill-behaved from observation, how they obstructed 
 sound and promoted damp ; in short, I thought my argu- 
 ments happily conceived and forcibly put, but saw 
 only a host of blank immovable faces all round me as 
 stolid as Madame Tussaud's wax-work figures, whilst 
 nothing was heard but the occasional insane laugh of 
 the churchwarden, and the steady snoring of the farmer 
 behind me. At last I touched upon the sin of making 
 distinctions between rich and poor, and advocated com- 
 plete equality in the house of prayer. Immediately the 
 whole place was alive. There was positively almost 
 a row. Every body found a voice. I had fairly excited 
 them at last. Farmer Gorse shouted out that there 
 ou^t — '• ought,' he said with a thump on the table — 
 there ouglit to be a difference between rich and poor in 
 church. That I wished to turn the w^orld upside down. 
 That my opinions were ^ clean contrairy to human
 
 NUGENT IN THE CONFESSIONAL. 157 
 
 nature.' Farmer Walrush turned livid witli indigna- 
 tion, and swore lie never hadn't stood, and he never 
 wouldn't stand radicalism, chartism, sixpenny points, 
 or any such-like sociable tricks ! As for Mr. Salter, 
 the thin, smooth-toni^ued grocer, he leant across 
 the table and began to prove the Scriptural pro- 
 priety of pews by the text in St. Matthew's gospel, 
 directing us to ^ go into oiu* closets when we pray, and 
 shut the door,' winding up by the quotation, *The 
 poor shall never cease out of the land.' On which 
 Farmer Gorse cried ^Hear, hear,' till he was nearly 
 choked ! As if that had any thing to do with it ! An- 
 other farmer scratched his head and said, ' If the pews 
 went, he knew his missus would make him go to meet- 
 ing ; ' an intimation which was greeted with quite a 
 cheer. Is it not deeply distressing ? Is not this igno- 
 rance, this moral obhquity, almost appalling? Now 
 don't you think so, Mr. Churchwarden ? Come, now ! " 
 and Lovell put his hand appealingly on Nugent's shoul- 
 der. 
 
 '' You tried for too much," said Nugent ; " I don't 
 particularly hke those large pews, and think the poor 
 are somewhat hardly used ; but I don't like free seats ; 
 they are so uncomfortable, not to say Popish." 
 
 ^' Why, the members of the Eoman communion," re- 
 plied Lovell, ^* have no free seats. They usually hire 
 chairs for the occasion. Fixed benches are Anglican, 
 but not Roman."
 
 158 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 " Well," said Nugent, *•' I like to be sure of my place." 
 
 " Smithers says," observed Lovell, " that at Sweet- 
 borough they have no inconvenience whatever. The 
 congregation, generally upwards of thirty, all know 
 their seats and there is no confusion at all." 
 
 " I tell you what," exclaimed Nugent, " I do not mind 
 your lowering the sides of my old family pew " — this he 
 said with the air of having made up his mind to a great 
 sacrifice. "In fact, to show you I really do not like 
 pews, I don't mind if you remove it altogether ! It is 
 not the original family pew, because that, you know, 
 my father pulled do^\Ti thinking it too grand for a man 
 who was earning his bread, and I don't mind if you 
 raze it to the ground. 'Tis certainly too high and bulky, 
 and takes up half the chancel archway. But mind, 
 Lovell, you must put me a door to my open bench." 
 
 "I will — I will!" cried Lovell, much elated, "and 
 then there's the strangers' pew ? " 
 
 "Pull that down, and fix some open seats for the 
 old people, the poor and sickly ; there wiU be room for 
 twenty, at least, if you manage well." 
 
 The strangers' pew was a huge square enclosure, op- 
 posite to Nugenl's pew, occupying considerable space. 
 It tras intended for occasional visitors to the parish; 
 but, as visitors were rare, it w^as usually invaded and 
 occupied by all the idle young men and women in 
 the neighbourhood, who, beneath the shadow of its 
 wooden walls, eat nuts, carved their names on the seat*.
 
 NUGEXT IN THE COXFESSIOXAL. 159 
 
 and ■s\Tote love-letters to one another. Lovell accepted 
 the offer with joy, and, rushing to his bookcase, began 
 to hunt for sketches of poppy heads, panels, and mould- 
 ino^s for Xug-ent to choose from. That 2:entleman, 
 however, felt his thoughts wandering elsewhere, and 
 begged to take leave. 
 
 "I am glad I may smash the strangers' pew!" ex- 
 claimed Lovell, as he escorted Nugent to the door. 
 *'By the bye," he added, leaning over the gate, after 
 Xugent had got some distance do^vn the road, "Do 
 you know the correct way of spelling *pew?' It 
 should be p — u — e I Doesn't it sound contemptible ? 
 p — u — e ! You will find it all explained and proved 
 in the second number of the ^ Mullion Magazine/ p — 
 u — e ! " This he uttered with a most scornful em- 
 phasis and in a raised voice in order that Nugent 
 might hear him. Then, withdrawing his body from 
 the gate, returned into the Rectory. 
 
 Nugent pursued his way homewards; and, having 
 ordered his bay mare to be brought round in half an hour, 
 rethed to his room and dressed himself mth unusual 
 care; and soon after mounting his horse, he galloped 
 lightly over the turf in the direction of Beaumont-house.
 
 160 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 CHAPTEH VIII. 
 
 THE YEOMANET AT KENTWORTH". 
 
 No sooner, however, had Nugent reached the fiirther 
 extremity of the field, and, passing through a gateway, 
 found himself in the main road, than he began to slacken 
 the bay mare's speed until she dropped into a walk. 
 
 His line of policy was not so clearly defined as to render 
 him very impatient for the interview with Lady Maud. 
 The animal he rode soon began to evince unmistakeable 
 sympathy with her master's dehberative mood. Occa- 
 sionally she would halt in the middle of the road, occa- 
 sionally diverge to one side, and browse calmly on 
 the leafy hedge, not without timiing back an in- 
 quiring ear as if to ascertain what Nugent thought of 
 it. AYhen her master shook the loose reins with admoni- 
 tory impatience, she would step out with cheerful 
 alacrity, as if it was what she was just wishing to do, 
 but would again begin to stray and saunter along the 
 road as soon as Nugent relapsed once more into a
 
 THE YEOMANRY AT RENT WORTH. 161 
 
 The bay mare had just thrust her head over a gate into 
 a field, and was endeavouring to make acquaintance with 
 a spindle-legged colt performing various idiotic capers a 
 few yards off, when the sound of a horse galloping 
 towards them at full speed along the road, roused both 
 Kugent and his horse from their respective trains of 
 thought. 
 
 The next moment a man, booted and spurred, 
 approached at a gallop, but diminished his pace as he 
 came near ; finally puUing up short as soon as he was 
 face to face with Nugent. He held out a packet of 
 letters to Nugent, at the same time exclaiming — 
 
 " The yeomanry are called out, sir ! There are riots 
 on the Rentworth Grand Junction. The navvies have torn 
 up the rails, and half killed the superintendent and the 
 clerk of the works. The police seized the ringleaders, 
 and carried them prisoners to the inn at RentAvorth; 
 but the navvies have been joined by a body of miners, 
 and the town is in danger of being attacked. Colonel 
 Plover hopes you'U get your troop together in time to 
 meet him at Rentworth by sunset. He has had some 
 trouble mth the farmers because it's harvest time, but 
 they are coming together at last." 
 
 Nugent instantly turned his horse homewards, but at 
 a steady pace, for there was plenty of work for the ani- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 BELOW THE SURPACE. 
 
 mal between that time and sunset. He read his writ- 
 ten instructions as he went along, occasionally question- 
 ing the messenger who accompanied him. 
 
 Without going minutely into the causes and nature 
 of the present outbreakj we must explain that, for some 
 weeks past, great discontent had prevailed amongst the 
 navigators and labourers along the Rentworth Grand 
 Junction Line, in consequence of the company having 
 reduced their rates of payment both by day-work 
 and by the piece, and shown increasing irregular 
 rity in the customary weekly advances of cash to 
 the contractors for the works on their line, and to the 
 labourers immediately in their employ. Then again 
 there were ugly rumours afloat of the critical position 
 of the company. The shares dropped weekly, and the 
 very efforts made to curtail expenses only augmented 
 the general uneasiness and suspicion. The last dividend 
 declared had been at the rate of 4 per cent., but it was 
 paid, as the initiated well knew, in great measure out of 
 capital, and not out of the receipts on the completed 
 portion of the line. A committee had been appointed 
 at the meeting of the shareholders to audit the accounts 
 of the company, and thoroughly investigate the pro- 
 ceedings of the directors. That committee sat daily, 
 und daily broke up with black looks, and ill-suppressed
 
 THE YE03IAXRY AT EEXTWORTH. 163 
 
 indignation. All this added to the impatience and 
 excitement prevailing amongst the gangs of labourers 
 along the unfinished portion of the line. Pro\dsions 
 were dear, and a strike in some neighbouring coal-pits, 
 which had lasted some weeks, let loose upon society 
 a number of men, fuU of bitterness of sph'it and ripe 
 for mischief. At this juncture came the great smash 
 and exposure of the Kentworth Eailway. It was 
 discovered through the haze intentionally flung over 
 its affairs, that the company was at present plainly and 
 undeniably insolvent. One or two directors absconded 
 to Boulogne. A secretary bolted to America, having 
 previously left his hat and stick by the bank of a river, 
 to make the public suppose he had drowned himself. 
 Several subordinate employes thought this a bright idea, 
 and did the same thing ; so that for two or three days 
 you perpetually found reposing on the brink of the river, 
 hats rather the worse for wear, whose owners had 
 vanished from the scene. 
 
 It was Thursday when the worst was known, and the 
 men working on the line were paid on a Friday. The 
 committee of shareholders of which the directors were 
 ex-officio members, decided on appealing, as they termed 
 it, to the good sense of the labourers, and paying them 
 a respectable percentage on wages due, that is to eay,
 
 164 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 two-and-sixpence each, with the promise of more next 
 week. The result might have been anticipated; the sub- 
 secretary, deputed to address the men, was received 
 with shouts of execration. A navvj, more impetuous 
 than his comrades, seized a lump of coal from a heap 
 near the station, and flung it at his head. It was the 
 signal for a general outbreak. 
 
 The railway terminus at Rentworth was attacked by 
 a mob of about two hundred men, women, and boys. 
 The cash-box, fortunately not heavily laden, was seized, 
 the contents scattered in all directions, and snatched 
 up by the strongest or most active. Much the same 
 scene took place at two or three other stations, where 
 the men were in the habit of receiving then' money. 
 The better disposed were carried away in the stream. 
 One station-house was partly burnt and partly torn 
 down. 
 
 After the station-house was destroyed, and the mob 
 for the most part scattered, two or three pohcemen and 
 a body of special constables arrived on the scene, and, 
 with some difficulty, succeeded in capturing two of the 
 most obnoxious and most desperate of the ringleaders, 
 whom they removed for security to the neighbouring 
 town of Eentworth. 
 
 It chanced that one of these ringleaders was wholly
 
 THE YE03IAXRY AT REXTWORTH. 165 
 
 unconnected with the railway, although, as an amateur, 
 he had warmly co-operated in the lawless proceedings 
 of the mob. He belonged to the adjacent coal-mines ; 
 and news of his capture having reached the ears of the 
 miners, who, as we have already stated, were at that 
 time unfortunately out on strike, the more turbulent 
 amongst them joined the crowd of navigators who were 
 gathering together to effect a rescue. The whole dis- 
 turbance might have been put down by the exercise of 
 timely vigour and timely justice. A handful of infantry 
 from the nearest depot, and an immediate payment of 
 all debts due from the company, would have at once 
 restored tranquillity in the district. But the reports 
 sent to the Home Secretary and the Lord-Lieutenant, 
 did not explain the real cause of the disturbance. It 
 was simply stated that the coal-miners were in open 
 riot, in a locality where there were no regular police to 
 oppose a steady, cool front to the rioters. Orders came 
 down by telegraph to caU out three troops of yeomanry, 
 and summon two companies of infantry to the scene of 
 the disturbance. 
 
 It was on Friday afternoon that the riot began ; and, 
 though partially quelled by the special constables, it 
 was rumoured that the miners were in commotion, and 
 that a renewal of disturbances might be anticipated.
 
 166 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 All night the town of Rentworth was in a state of much 
 anxiety, and justly so; for before the military were 
 well on the move, the mob, composed of navvies, Irish 
 labourers, and miners, were pomnng tlirough the High 
 Street of Rentworth, and in complete possession of the 
 place. 
 
 Nugent, unmediately he reached home, despatched 
 messengers in aU directions to hasten the muster of hia 
 troop, and busied himself in preparing his arms and ac- 
 coutrements for the march. By dint of energy and 
 activity, aided by the influence he possessed over that 
 portion of the yeomanry under his command, these en- 
 deavours proved so far successfiil, that Nugent and 
 about three-parts of his troop, tolerably well appointed 
 and with horses still fresh, might be seen mnding down 
 the hill, at the foot of which lies the straggling town 
 of Rentworth, just as the sun began to descend, 
 broad and red, behind the dusky volumes of smoke 
 overshadowing the taU chimneys and dimly-defined 
 houses of the manufacturers and miners, to the west- 
 ward of the town. As they approached the suburbs, 
 a yeomanry officer, who acted as adjutant, rode up, and 
 was immediately surrounded by the whole of Nugent' s 
 troop, clamouring for intelligence, and slightly oblivious 
 of military discipline.
 
 THE yeo:maxey at rextworth. 167 
 
 '^ Keep your ranks, pray, gentlemen !** shouted Nu- 
 gent. " Keep your ranks ! Fall into your places, gen- 
 tlemen. Halt! Halt!" 
 
 Having restored order to Ms troop, Nugent once 
 more gave tlie order to advance, and listened to the ad- 
 jutant's recital of the events of the past night and day. 
 
 " 'Tis the old story of locking the stable door after 
 the horse is stolen !" exclaimed the latter. " Our two 
 troops muster pretty strong ; though the fellows grum~- 
 bled prodigiously at leaving their corn-fields. The 
 Colonel had just got a touch of the gout again, and 
 had to join us in his family coach. A pretty jolting it 
 got over the hills ! But he would push on, sitting in- 
 side in full regimentals, pitched from one seat to an-- 
 other, but looking as fierce as a lion. When we got in, 
 our horses were quite spent, and the men ready to drop. 
 The thing was all over, however ; the prisoners rescued ; 
 the constables hid in coal-cellars or under beds; and 
 every window in the * Swampshire Arms ' smashed to 
 atoms ! " 
 
 " And what has become of the mob T* 
 
 " Oh ! started somewhere else, or scattered about in 
 the neighbourhood. We shall be off again, I expect, in 
 a couple of hours. 
 
 "Are the soldiers arrived t"
 
 168 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 "The infantry? yes, they are in the market-place. 
 Two companies, mustering about a hundred men, but 
 a good many are straggKng. The red^rguard is bringing 
 them up." 
 
 " Well," said Nugent, " as we are to be oflf again, I 
 shall keep my horses as fresh as I can." 
 
 "To be sure," said the other, "that's just what 1 was 
 to advise you. Will you take a cigar ? " 
 
 The offer was declined, and once more halting his men, 
 Nugent led them into the town in good order, but 
 without that clanor and animatino: clatter of horses* hoofs 
 and steel scabbards, which a brisk trot would have 
 elicited. Little boys who came out to cheer, seeing 
 the stolid and demure procession, only stared with 
 disappointed faces; and the men themselves seemed 
 •rather crestfallen at " sneaking," as they observed, 
 " into the town as if they were ashamed of themselves." 
 Passing the market-place, Nugent found the infantry 
 had piled arms, and were dispersed in all directions, 
 some seated on the ground, some on benches and stools 
 brought them from the market, regaling themselves on 
 the rations they had carried with them. A few were 
 bathing their faces at the pump in the market-place, and 
 drinking water with the eagerness of pilgrims in the 
 desert. The men were covered with dust, and had evi-
 
 THE teo:nla:ntiy at eextwoeth. 169 
 
 dently executed a rapid and fatiguing march. A volley 
 of questions and answers was nevertheless vivaciously 
 exchanged with the yeomanry as they passed by, coupled 
 with observations of rather a jocose description, which 
 were tolerably well received. On arriving at the 
 " Swampshire arms," they found not only every Avindow 
 smashed, but every thing which was fragile or easily 
 destructible flung into the street, or shivered to atoms. 
 Much of the fumitiu"e had been wantonly broken, 
 and the banisters on the staircase hacked and split mth 
 knives and hatchets ; but, beyond this, there had been 
 no fruther damage of consequence, for the operations of 
 the mob were interrupted by the approach of the troops. 
 The officers of both yeomanry and infantry were 
 assembled in the principal room; seniors holding a 
 sort of coimcil of war in the comer of the apartment ; 
 juniors eating bread and cheese without plates, off 
 a broken table, and drinking wine and water from a tin 
 saucepan without a handle. It appeared, according to 
 the best information collected, that the mob had fled in 
 various directions with the intention of re-assembhng at 
 the mines at nightfall, either for the purpose of further 
 mischief or of indidging in triumphant festivities. The 
 colonel of the yeomanry was therefore eager to start for 
 the mines at once, in his family coach (which had not
 
 170 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 broken more tlian one spring in its journey across the 
 hills), and thus followed bj his faithful troopers, to 
 — ^' beard the lion in his den, and nip the mischief in the 
 bud." So said Colonel Plover of the yeomanry. But 
 the major commanding the regulars demurred to this 
 proposal, and recommended that scouts should be sent 
 out first to gather information, and mean time that 
 men and horses should rest and refresh themselves, 
 
 Nugent had just begun to second the major's propo- 
 sition when a great hubbub was heard below ; shouting, 
 trampling of feet, jingling of spm's, clattering of steel 
 scabbards. Colonel Plover started to his feet, but a 
 twinge of the gout sent him back again into his chair. 
 The officers abandoned their bread and cheese, and 
 seized their swords. But Johnson of the regulars, an 
 old campaigner, who always had his wits about him, 
 took this opportunity of quietly tossing off the remainder 
 of the wine and water in the tin pot. The adjutant 
 rushed out of the room to inquire what was the 
 matter, and young Lord Swampshire, who command- 
 ed one of the troops of yeomanry, examined the 
 caps of a small Colt's revolver he carried in his 
 pocket. 
 
 Presently word was sent up that one of the rioters 
 had been discovered hid in the back-kitchen of the
 
 THE YEOMA]STlY AT KEXTT70RTH. 171 
 
 inn, and was in custody below. An attempt was 
 immediately made to give an air of judicial dignity 
 to the apartment where the oJfiScers were congre- 
 gated. Colonel Plover's chau' was wheeled with 
 its back to the fireplace, two or three of the lar- 
 gest chairs were placed on either side, and occupied by 
 the senior officers. The table was pushed to one side 
 of the room. Barclay Fitzomelette, a young yeomanry 
 officer of a romantic turn, suggested that the effect 
 would be enhanced by partially closing the shutters and 
 darkenino: the room. But this was over-ruled. The ad- 
 jutant produced several quires of foolscap and quill pens, 
 with blotting-paper to match. Search was made for a 
 Bible, in case it should be necessary to take any evi- 
 dence on oath. 
 
 Mr. Rubbley, as a local magistrate, was summoned 
 from his neighbouring mansion, the windows of which 
 the mob had smashed early in the day. And the 
 worthy magistrate, being discovered concealed in an 
 empty wine-pipe in his cellar, was gently extracted 
 therefrom and hurried to the '^ Swampshire Arms," 
 smelling of port-wine in the most convivial manner 
 possible, but with a face pale as ashes, and lugubriously 
 sober. 
 
 Before his arrival, however, the door of the officers'
 
 172 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 apartment was flung open with some emphasis, and two 
 dismounted yeomanry, huge men — six feet high or so — 
 armed to the teeth, stalked solemnly into the room, 
 dragging between them a small boy covered with soot, 
 with his hair hanging over his eyes, and his clothes 
 all torn and disordered. In the rear foUowed two in- 
 fantry soldiers, with fixed bayonets, and muskets at half 
 cock. The procession drew up at one end of the room 
 and faced the colonel, whilst the yeomanry adjutant 
 bustled about endeavouring to dress the troopers, 
 the small prisoner, and the two regulars, in a correct 
 line# 
 
 At this imposing spectacle the younger officers showed 
 a rather indecorous inclination to lausrh. Indeed, John- 
 son dipped his head once more into the tin pot, for the 
 purpose, as he afterwards declared, of hiding his merri- 
 ment. The striking diminution in the sherry induced, 
 however, the other officers to suspect that this was only 
 a partial explanation of the manoeuvre. 
 
 " Where did you discover the prisoner ? " inquired 
 Colonel Plover, rising with some difficulty, and support- 
 ing himself with one hand on his sword, and the other 
 on a gold-headed cane, an heirloom of the Plover family. 
 " Where did you discover the prisoner ? '' 
 
 "We found him, please your honour — beg your
 
 THE TEOMAjSTtY AT PuENTWORTH. 173 
 
 honour's pardon, colonel I should have said — in the 
 kitchen copper." 
 
 " Copper, copper ? " And the colonel shook his head 
 as if he thought the matter was really becoming serious. 
 "Found him in the copper? What the deuce wa^ 
 he doing there ? Eh ? " 
 
 " Seemed to be a-hiding of hisself, please jour honour, 
 — colonel I should have said. You see it happened as 
 thus : — Tom Harness, he was agoing " 
 
 " Who's Tom Harness, sir ? " inquired the colonel 
 with a stem voice, anxious to impress the regulars with a 
 profound idea of the discipline maintained in his corps — 
 " Who's Tom Haniess ? Eh, sir ? " 
 
 " T\Ti7, bless your honour — colonel I should say — 
 he's your honom-'s pig-butcher dovm at Saltmarsh! 
 Thought your honour know'd he as well ye know'd me, 
 saTicg your honom^'s presence ! " 
 
 The officers tittered convulsively. The colonel red- 
 dened, and shouted, " Go on, sir ! You're a long time 
 getting to the point. Go on, sir ! " 
 
 " Well, you see's we was going to light a bit of fire, 
 having a mind for a sup of hot tea. So we got some 
 sticks together and had just struck a light, when who 
 should pop up out of the copper, sending the cover spin- 
 ning into the midst of us, but this here young scamp ! "
 
 174 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 And the trooper gave tlie boy a rougliish shake, just 
 to explain who he was referring to. 
 
 At this point of the narrative there was another titter 
 amonofst the officers, and Johnson was so much over- 
 come as to be forced to bury his face in the tin pot for 
 at least a minute. 
 
 «^ That gave thee a start, Simpson, I'll be bound ! " 
 remarked a yeomanry officer of elderly appearance, a 
 very red face, and rather round shoulders. 
 
 " Why, squire — captain I should say — I'll not deny 
 we were taken aback for a bit. ' Twas for aU the world 
 like Jack in the box, or Guy Faux, or some such a thing!" 
 
 "You need not pull the boy about in that way," 
 remonstrated Nugent, perceiving that he was oscillating 
 to and fro under the grasp of the two troopers, who 
 laboured under the impression that each movement 
 they alternately imparted to the little figure between 
 them, was some refractory effort on his part to escape. 
 
 **Let the prisoner stand by himself," said the colonel 
 with an air of gracious condescension. *^ We wiU give 
 him a trial. If he attempts to escape, seize him again 
 and hold him fast ! " 
 
 " Ah, colonel, he's a do^vnrlght bad 'un, you may be 
 sure ! " replied Simpson, reluctantly leaving go of the 
 boy's collar.
 
 THE YE0MA2^KY AT RENTWORTH. 175 
 
 Colonel Plover having retreated, with the help of his 
 Bword and stick, to the further corner of the room, con- 
 ferred a few minutes with the infantry major, and then 
 turning round, exclaimed — 
 
 "Guard!" 
 
 "Yes, please your honour!" exclaimed the two 
 troopers clutching tightly hold again of the boy's jacket 
 with simultaneous energy. " Yes, colonel ! " 
 
 " Leave the prisoner with us, and retire." 
 
 " You may mthdraw ! " added the adjutant. 
 
 " But keep "vvithin hail ! " put in the red-faced yeoman- 
 ry officer, 
 
 " Keep within hail, Simpson ! " echoed Barclay Fitz- 
 omelette, in a melo-dramatic whisper. 
 
 " You may go, Simpson ! " exclaimed all the officers in 
 chorus, dutifully backing up their colonel. 
 
 The two infantry, rank and file, had shouldered arms 
 and faced to the right, and were half-way down-stairs 
 before Simpson and his comrade had shut their mouths 
 expanded to the widest extent by the unlooked-for 
 command of their colonel. 
 
 " Hadn't we better search him colonel ? " exclaimed at 
 length Simpson. " He might have something danger- 
 ous about him."
 
 176 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 "Well, well, search him then," rather pettishly 
 rephed the chief. 
 
 " Sharp fellow, that Simpson ! " whispered the red- 
 faced officer to the adjutant. 
 
 The ceremony was duly performed, and the contents 
 of the boy's pockets placed upon the table, namely — an 
 old clasp-knife, three marbles, and a decayed apple. 
 
 "That will do. Now you may go, sir." 
 
 The troopers trudged oif, casting mistrustful glances 
 at the boy, who stood perfectly motionless in the middle 
 of the room. 
 
 " Well, my Httle man, what's your name, and where 
 do you come from ? " 
 
 There was a long pause, and at length the boy 
 answered — 
 
 " I come from the copper in the back kitchen." 
 
 The colonel, in a fine purple glow of official ^vrath, 
 looked round to his brother officers, and asked — 
 
 " Does the little scamp mean to be impertinent, or is 
 he a fool?" 
 
 " ^More knave than fool," observed the red-faced offi- 
 cer, with the round shoulders. 
 
 "May be he's frightened," suggested the infantry 
 major. 
 
 ^'Colonel," interrupted Captain Pinkie, a bustling
 
 THE YEOMAIiRY AT KENT WORTH. 17T 
 
 yeomanry officer, who endeavoured to hold his head in 
 military fashion, but only looked as if some one had just 
 given him a little jerk under the nose from which 
 it had not yet recovered. "Colonel," said Captain 
 Pinkie, pushing forwards, "this is a 'sort' I think 
 I know how to manage, and by your leave I'll tackle 
 him." 
 
 So saying he strode up to the boy, and in a loud 
 sharp voice exclaimed — 
 
 " Young rogue, I say ! What's thy name ? Eh, young 
 rogue ? " 
 
 " I'm no more a rogue than thou art," answered the 
 boy suUenly. 
 
 "I think," interrupted the colonel, who had been 
 whispering with the infantiy major — "I think there 
 are too many of us here. Pinkie, you had better let the 
 boy alone. The adjutant wiU talk to him, or perhaps 
 Captain Nugent," he added, as Nugent, who had left the 
 room to speak to one of his troop, at that moment re- 
 entered it. " Why, the boy starts as if he knew your 
 name, Captain Nugent ! " 
 
 Nugent immediately led the lad outside the door, and 
 was about to put some questions to him, when, to his 
 surprise, the boy began the conversation himself 
 
 " Squire Nugent, please, don t let them shoot me ! I 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 BELOW THE SUR1?^ACE. 
 
 have done nobody any hurt. I haven't indeed, Squire 
 Nugent." 
 
 " Why, my boy, who are you ? What's your name ?" 
 '^ I'm Edward — Edward Harrill. Don't you remem- 
 ber me and Margaret ? " 
 
 The boy vainly tried to wipe the soot and tears from 
 his face in order that Nugent might recognize him. 
 But Nugent now knew him by his voice and manner, 
 and, taking his hand, told him he need not be afraid, 
 only he must tell the truth. The boy then began to 
 take courage, and told Nugent all he knew. 
 
 It appeared that Harrill for some weeks past had 
 kept the boy at his lodging at Rentworth, to cook for 
 him and wait upon him, threatening him with awful 
 punishment if he attempted to abscond. As soon as 
 the miners were in commotion, and the riots began in the 
 streets of Rentworth, Harrill speedily took the lead in 
 all the mischief going forwards, and joined the mob, 
 taking Edward with him to prevent his escaping. 
 Whilst the rioters were smashing the windows and the 
 furnitm^e of the " Swampshire Arms," a cry arose that 
 " The soldiers were coming ! " There was a general 
 panic, and in the confusion Edward slipped out of 
 HarriU's sight, and hid himself in the empty copper of 
 the back kitchen, where he lay crouched in great appre-
 
 THE YEOMANRY AT RENT WORTH. 179 
 
 hension, both on account of Harrill and on account of 
 the soldiers. 
 
 After a long interval of silence, and when he was get- 
 ting almost exhausted, he heard a fresh tumult overhead, 
 and presently the tramphng of feet in all directions, and 
 some men came into the kitchen, and began to kindle 
 a fire dkectly beneath the copper. Then, not liking the 
 idea of being fried alive, he jumped up, and frighten- 
 ed the yeomamy out of thefr wits. They took him for 
 some fiendish sprite, and made for the door, tumbling 
 over the chairs and tables in their way. Here they met 
 one of the infantry, and, roused to a feehng of profes- 
 sional emulation, they returned to the charge, and seeing 
 the boy had emerged from the copper, and was sitting 
 quietly in the ashes, the whole party chivalrously rushed 
 upon him and called upon him to " surrender," which 
 he instantaneously did. This was the substance of 
 the boy's statement, and Nugent felt satisfied that he 
 told the simple truth. 
 
 "But, my boy, do you know where the mob are 
 bound to now? Do you know if they are dispersed, or 
 gone elsewhere ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! They are off over the moor ! They are 
 going to bum all the houses of the folk that have got 
 the railway money."
 
 180 BELOW THE SURFACE, 
 
 *' Whom do you mean, boy ? " asked Nugent anxiously. 
 
 ^* I don't know what folk they meant. The directors, 
 they called 'em. But I know where they are gone. 
 They are over the moor to Beaumont-house, and 
 Harrill's with them." 
 
 The next moment Nugent rushed into the room 
 where the officers were assembled, and exclaimed with 
 more agitation than he was wont to evince — " Gentle- 
 men, I know this boy, and can trust him. He states 
 that the mob have re-assembled in the outskirts of the 
 town, and have started across the marshes to Beaumont- 
 house, the seat, as you are aware, of Mr. Usherwood, 
 one of the directors of the railway. No doubt they 
 are up to some mischief. We must follow on their 
 track, or we do not know what may happen." 
 
 There was much excitement. Young Lord Swamp- 
 shire brandished his revolver, to the serious discomfort 
 of the red-faced officer, who said he didn't want to be 
 made cold meat of before his time. Pinkie pranced 
 about the room, trying to buckle his sword-belt. The 
 adjutant rushed up to Colonel Plover, and as the colonel 
 at the same instant rose to meet him, they fell into each 
 other's arms, as if in a paroxysm of confiding affection. 
 Johnson, the old campaigner, vanished out of the room 
 to join his men. The infantry major leaned out of the
 
 THE YEOlVIANPtY AT RENTWORTH. 181 
 
 broken window, and, calling the bngler, told him to 
 sound the " assembly." 
 
 Nugent, as soon as the bustle permitted, again spoke. 
 " Colonel Plover and Major West, my troop is pretty 
 fresh, both men and horses, and I know the country 
 well. Shall I start at once, in pursuit of the rioters 
 across the moor? Pinkie and Lord Swampshire can 
 bring their men on afterwards." 
 
 The infantry major approved, and said he would, if 
 the colonel approved, pick out a score of his best men, 
 and send them in the same direction in any light 
 carts or vehicles they might be able to procure. 
 
 ^' And let me advise you, Captain Nugent, to clap 
 that young gentleman, yoiu: prisoner, in front of a 
 trooper, and take him along with you." 
 
 In a few minutes the town was once more in com- 
 motion. Bugles and trumpets blowing, horsemen 
 clattering over the stones, soldiers running to and 
 fro, officers shouting, two carbines of the yeomanry 
 going off by accident but fortunately not doing any 
 injury, the colonel calling for his coach at the pitch of 
 his voice with as much vehemence as King Richard 
 called for a horse. Then the measured tramp of infantry 
 was heard along the street, and presently afterwards 
 Nugent and his troop emerged from the inn-yard, and
 
 182 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 clattered down the street at a full trot, eliciting screams 
 of applause from the boys of the town, especially when 
 they detected Edward Harrill's small form perched in 
 front of one of the leading troopers. 
 
 It is not easy to bring fifty or sixty horsemen, with 
 heavy accoutrements and ammunition, at a quick pace 
 for several miles together along an indifferent road. 
 The yeomanry horses were unaccustomed to work of 
 this description. Many were much distressed before 
 half the journey was accomplished, and the best- 
 mounted troopers had to hold back, in order to favour 
 their less fortunate companions. The mob had obtained 
 a good start, and improved it by taking a short 
 cut across the fields soon after leaving the mines, which 
 had the further advantage of rendering the point of their 
 destination uncertain. The yeomanry had to march ten 
 miles by the road. Those they pm-sued reduced their 
 journey to only eight miles, by the angle they 
 thus cut oflP. Nugent urged on his men, and tried 
 to keep up their spirits. The men in his troop had 
 confidence in him, and followed his directions with 
 alacrity. It was not long before they came upon 
 traces of the mob; stragglers were occasionally seen 
 escaping over the fields; here and there a pick-axe 
 or bludgeon had been dropped in the road ; the fields
 
 THE YEOMAXRY AT PwENTWORTH. 183 
 
 on either side liad been in places trampled down^ 
 and fences torn and broken. 
 
 Then they came upon comitry folks who gave a yivid 
 plctm-e of the insolent fury of the rioters; then they passed 
 a beer-shop which had been pillaged, and aU the liquor on 
 the premises drunk or poured into the ditch. Here they 
 captured half a score of the rioters lying dead drunk about 
 the premises. These they left in charge of three or four 
 yeomanry, selecting those whose horses were most 
 knocked up. At length the foremost troopers reached 
 a sharp turn in the road, from whence an extensive view 
 of the open country, as well as the long range of hilly 
 ground beyond, could be obtained. At this point a lane 
 turned off, leading to the Manor-house Farm by a more 
 direct route than the road passing Beaumont-house. 
 
 " Master," exclaimed Madocks, who was a private in 
 Nugent's troop ; " Master, d'ye see that terrible smoke 
 yonder ? " 
 
 It was in the direction of Okenham valley, and arose 
 in huge volumes, sometimes dark, sometimes lurid red. 
 
 " D'ye see, master — d'ye see ? " urged the man, who 
 was on a sudden pale mth anxiety. 
 
 There was a burst of exclamations from the troopers, 
 as one after another they caught sight of the conflagra- 
 tion.
 
 184 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Nugent said composedly — 
 
 "Madocks, it is our stack-yard. It is just in the 
 bend of the hill ; there's no doubt about it. But it can't 
 be helped. 
 
 " We had best turn off at the cross roads, and make 
 straight for the farm," suggested Madocks. 
 
 "No, Madocks, our duty is straightforwards towards 
 the point agreed upon. It is plain the bulk of the 
 mob is still before us. Forwards ! if you please, gentle- 
 men," cried Nugent more loudly, as several of the 
 yeomanry began to pull up at the cross roads, manifestly 
 expecting Nugent's orders to tmTi towards the farm. 
 " Forwards ! forwards to Beamnont-house ! " He gallop- 
 ed to the front, and his troop followed. 
 
 " Can that young urchin have done us, sir ? " asked 
 Madocks, again overtaking him. " Was he left to put 
 us on a ^vrong scent ? " 
 
 Nugent felt for a moment a painful suspicion cross 
 his mind. " Bring him to the front ! " he said. 
 
 The trooper who carried the boy rode to the front. 
 Nugent sternly questioned him ; but the boy remained 
 firm and unflinching. Opinions were divided as to his 
 guilt or innocence. Still they pushed on, and now, as 
 they neared the park of Beaumont-house, could jnst 
 discern upon the rising ground groups of men, clus-
 
 THE YEOMANKT AT EEXTWOETH. 185 
 
 tering and tlii'onging together, as if \Tatcliing their 
 approach. 
 
 "Keep together, gentlemen — draw swords ! " and, as 
 the steel flashed m the ah*, the horses seemed to share 
 their masters' excitement, and pressed forwards with 
 a less stiff and mechanical motion. Nugent still headed 
 them. 
 
 In the distance he saw his ricks and premises — 
 perhaps his house — enveloped in flames and smoke. 
 But he had no thought of swerving from his pm'pose. 
 Two motives governed him. First, a sense of duty; 
 next, a tender anxiety on Gertrude's account. Never- 
 theless there was no undue precipitation, or impetuous 
 hurry in his movements. He held his men well together, 
 and advanced with suflicient rapidity, but without con- 
 fusion or disorder.
 
 186 BEL0T7 THE SURFACE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF A RAILWAY DIRECTOR. 
 
 The morning of the day on which the yeomanry were 
 summoned to Eentworth, Lady IVIaud sat in the break- 
 fast-room ^'v'ith a countenance unusually serene. Ger- 
 trude was late that day, and her ladyship and Mr. Usher- 
 wood were Ute-br-Ute. 
 
 " My love," said Lady Maud, holding up two letters 
 she had in her hand, " I have some satisfactory intel- 
 ligence for you to-day." 
 
 " Glad to hear it," rejoined her husband. " It is high 
 time something pleasant turned up. Just by way of variety. 
 I'm fond of variety." He uttered these words in a tone 
 of despondency unusual with him. For since his first 
 introduction to the reader a good deal of alteration might 
 have been noticed in Mr. Usherwood's general aspect 
 and demeanour. He was not only thinner and his brow 
 more wi'inkled, but he looked restless, feverish, and ex- 
 cited. At the moment his wife spoke to him, he crammed 
 two or three unopened letters into his pocket. He had
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LITE OF A EAILWAY DIEECTOE. 187 
 
 lately fallen into the inconvenient habit of postponing to 
 read his letters for days, and sometimes for weeks. 
 
 " Ah, my dear ! " exclaimed Lady Maud, " you are 
 stiU brooding over those horrid railways ! That I see 
 clearly. Xow, pray don't think of the share-market 
 just now. Put it away in some little snug comer of your 
 mind. After all, we know how much we have invested. 
 TTe cannot lose more, and that ^\'ill not ruin us. Banish 
 the whole subject, love. This morning I have heard 
 from my dear friend. Miss Hawkshaw. She informs me 
 of the death of poor young Clinton. I am sorry for him." 
 And Lady Maud's beautifid eyes seemed for a moment al- 
 most moistened. '^ Cut off in his prime ! " Then added 
 more cheerfliUy — " and there is a note from Sir Eliot 
 Prichard. Satisfactory, but a httle perplexing. Read 
 it, dear ! " 
 
 !Mr. Usherwood, having fortified his nerves by two or 
 three cups of strong coffee, took the letter which Lady 
 Maud held out to him, but with a trembhng hand. It 
 was the way with him now, he said, whenever he received 
 a fresh letter, whatever its contents were. The letter 
 was long, but might have been compressed into a very 
 few lines; the purport being that Sir EKot was pro- 
 foundly affected by Miss Usherwood's rare intellectual 
 qualities and amiable disposition. As for her personal
 
 188 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 charms, tliougli of the most dazzling order, these were 
 of secondary importance in his eyes. He begged, there- 
 fore, through the medium of her natural guardians and 
 protectors, to throw himself at her feet as the humblest 
 but sincerest of her admirers, and propose himself as a 
 candidate for her hand. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Usherwood, putting his hand to his 
 brow, " so far, so good. But my Httle girl may not fancy 
 him. And, besides, I thought you had fixed upon Mr. 
 Nugent. Is he to be tiu-ned adrift again, after all the 
 trouble you have taken ? " 
 
 " My dear," replied Lady Maud, in a tone of gentle 
 reproof, "you mistake. My trouble has been very in- 
 significant. We have only shoTNTi civility to Mr. Nugent, 
 as the probable representative of a powerful and wealthy 
 family. I restricted myself to the most cautious ad- 
 vances. I did not wish any thing decisive to take place. 
 It might have been premature and embarrassing. Now 
 the case is different ; but I could wish poor Chnton had 
 postponed his decease a few weeks longer." 
 
 " And what are we to do with Sir Eliot ? " asked her 
 husband. 
 
 " Why, we must consider about it, and feel our 
 way a httle. He is a suitable match. Clever, rich, 
 not ill-looking, if he would plaster down that woolly
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF A EAILWAY DIRECTOR. 189 
 
 black lialr of his, and roll his eyes rather less. But, 
 then, you see his fortune is nothing to the Clinton pro- 
 perty, and Nugent is twice as presentable a man, agri- 
 culturist though he be." 
 
 " Which of the two does our little girl like best ? " 
 asked ^Ir. Usher wood. 
 
 ^^ Why, I have my private impression upon that point. 
 But we must not be in a hurry." 
 
 *' Let me see Miss Hawkshaw's letter." 
 
 " Wait an instant, I have not finished reading it my- 
 self yet." 
 
 And Lady Maud, opening the letter, recommenced read- 
 ing it vnth. an air of tranquil interest. Suddenly, the lan- 
 guid expression of her countenance changed to a look of 
 impatience, almost of anger. She threw doTsm the letter 
 and exclaimed, '' What a tiresome, provoking woman ! 
 I give her up entirely." 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked her husband. 
 
 " Why, only think. She adds in a postscript at the 
 end, that 'tis old Clinton — old Sir Lawrence — who is 
 dead, and not his son. And what is more, she says, 
 the common opinion is. Sir Reginald is much better, 
 and will recover ! " 
 
 *' Is it possible ? " rejoined Mr. Usherwood. *^ WeU, 
 poor fellow, we ought to be glad of it, and I really am
 
 190 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 glad. But I wish he would not keep us in such vil- 
 lainous uncertainty, but would do one thing or the 
 other." 
 
 ^' The old gentleman could not stand the climate of 
 Nice. In fact he was told as much, so Miss Hawk- 
 shaw says ; but he luould accompany his son, and now 
 he is gone, and the son is doing well. How strange is 
 human life ! " 
 
 Lady Maud drank her tea very slowly, as if philoso- 
 phically meditating on the occurrence, and desirous of 
 regaining her composure. 
 
 " One thing is clear " — she added at last — " Nugent 
 sinks into an ineligible farmer." 
 
 " He's a good fellow, too," observed Mr. Usherwood. 
 '^ So clever at all sorts of things. We never got any ice 
 better than dirty snow until he had our ice-house re- 
 constructed. And then the hot-houses, what a glorious 
 improvement he made there ! Only think of the pines 
 we had, Maud — only think of the pines ! " And the 
 old gentleman smacked his lips at the recollection of 
 them. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, that's all very true — perfectly true ; 
 in fact, almost affecting. But it is nothing to the point. 
 When business is on the tapis^ we must postpone senti- 
 ment."
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF A RAILWAY DIRECTOE. 191 
 
 Mr. Usherwood yielded with humility, and dived into 
 the recesses of an egg. 
 
 '' My dear," proceeded Lady Maud, " I fear we must 
 fall back upon Sir Eliot Prichard." 
 
 "Well, he's clever — decidedly clever, I must say, though 
 he does advocate the abohtion of capital punishment. 
 My throat would not be safe an hour ! " added the old 
 gentleman, swallowing half an egg at once, as if to assm*e 
 himself that as yet aU was right in that direction. " Mur- 
 ders woidd be as plentiful as common assaults. We should 
 have shops, with ^ murders neatly executed ' placarded 
 in the windows, and advertisements hawked about, 
 headed ^ Important to the public ! Male and female 
 slaughterhouse opened at the back of Smithfield. No 
 questions asked. Children half price ! ' " 
 
 "Well, my dear, I am glad to see you in such 
 spirits." 
 
 !Mr. Usherwood laughed, but in a guttural, excited 
 way, as if he did not enjoy it. 
 
 "Well, I am really rejoiced you are so particularly 
 merry, my dear. But, to return to Sir EHot " 
 
 " Clever man, but of dangerous views," interrupted 
 her husband. 
 
 " My own love," said Lady Maud, with the smallest 
 approach of fretfulness in her accents — " my own darling,
 
 192 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 never mind his views. What do you think of him as a 
 husband? — as a husband for our dear child?" 
 
 " Hum — Lady Prichard ? I mean — beg your pardon, 
 Sn Eliot, beg your pardon humbly," said ^ir. Usher- 
 wood, bowing his head towards the fireplace with gro- 
 tesque reverence — " I mean Lady Eliot Prichard. Sir 
 EHot and Lady EHot Prichard ! It's not what you 
 call a pretty name — is it, my love ? " 
 
 " There is nothing," continued his lady abstractedly — 
 " nothing to be objected to on the score of fortune, 
 family (there's a hitch about Sir Eliot's grandmother 
 but that's ages ago, and there was a market gardener 
 on the maternal OTandfather's side but that's not gene- 
 rally known) — family, personal appearance, or mind. He 
 was wild, but young men will be wild, and that is aU 
 past." 
 
 " But," exclaimed Mr. Usherwood, throwing himself 
 suddenly back in his chair, and again putting his hand 
 to his head, " the grand point is this. Does my little 
 girl care for him ? I don't say, does she love him, my 
 dear, but does she not dislike him ? " 
 
 " For that," resumed Lady Maud, " we must give her 
 time. There must be no unnecessary fuss or hurry. 
 There is no cause for it." 
 
 Eising from the breakfast table, they left the room.
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF A RAILWAY DIEECTOR. 193 
 
 "My dear," said Lady Maud, shutting the door 
 behind them, and putting her arm gently in his, " You 
 seem to me a little out of sorts. I don't think you are 
 quite well. I wish you would have a few minutes' chat 
 with Grierson." 
 
 ^'Xo, I thank ye. Maud — no, I thank ye. Lady 
 Eliot Prichard. Prichard ? What an odd name ! Sir 
 Ehot Prichard I Lady Eliot Pnchard ! " 
 
 And, laughing to himself, ^h\ L'shenvood walked heav- 
 ily towards the library, muttering the word *• Pnchard " 
 between his teeth in every variety of intonation, as 
 if each time it presented quite a new aspect to his 
 mind. 
 
 Lady ^laud looked after him with an expression of 
 perplexity in her countenance. 
 
 "He certainly has altered. Grierson must see him. 
 Grierson must positively see him, tliis very day ! " 
 
 She then betook herself to her usual matutinal rendez- 
 vous ^A-ith ^Lrs. Millet the housekeeper; but somehow 
 or other evinced less composm-e and self-possession than 
 was her wont. Li fact, Lucy AYeston, who had recently 
 returned to service at Beaumont-house, intimated re- 
 spectfidly to Gertrude, whilst she was assisting at her 
 toilette, that she was sure something had gone wrong, 
 for '• My lady is in such a way ! Xot but what," she 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 BELOW THE SUKFACE. 
 
 added, " Paine and Mrs. Millet are as much as flesh and 
 blood can bear — but I never saw my lady so sharp 
 upon them. Something s gone wrong, for a certainty." 
 
 Gertrude blushed, as if she felt a misgiving she had 
 something to do with the unwonted acerbity of her 
 mother's manner. 
 
 At that precise moment a loud sob was heard at the 
 door, and then an agitated knock. 
 
 " Lucy — see who's there," said Gertrude. 
 
 "'Tis Miss Beverley, ma'am," was the maid's reply 
 as she opened the door, and the governess entered 
 the room in rather a hurried way, and with very red 
 eyes. 
 
 '^What is the matter?" cried Gertrude. 
 
 " Nothing," said Miss Beverley, glancing at the maid 
 as if she considered her at that moment decidedly de 
 trop. As, however, Lucy did not accept the hint, but 
 only responded by a gentle toss of the head, Gertrude, 
 being now ready to descend, took Miss Beverley's arm, 
 and, leaving the room together, they withdrew to Miss 
 Beverley's apartment. 
 
 ^' What is the matter, dear ?" again inquhed Gertrude. 
 
 "It is of no consequence," answered the other. ^'I 
 am used to the finger of scorn, and the hissing accents 
 of contempt. I take these things— quietly — now ; very
 
 PASSAGE rS' THE LIFE OF A EAILWAY DIRECTOR. 195 
 
 — quietly/' and, giving utterance to these sentiments in 
 disjointed words, ]Miss Beverley began to sob. 
 
 "Pray, explain youi'self," urged Gertrude. *'Who 
 has ever treated you ^^dth scorn in this house ? Have 
 I? Has any body?" 
 
 " Scorn is the portion of the governess ! Petty insult, 
 her daily bread ! I ought not to complain." 
 
 And !Miss Beverley, with a show of fortitude, pushed 
 a table covered vrith the remains of an excellent break- 
 fast out of the way, and sat down in a luxurious arm- 
 chah, holding herself resolutely upright, as if she was 
 sitting upon some cushionless, three-legged stool. 
 
 "Hardships are my lot I" she added, enunciating the 
 syllables with an emphasis which imparted an oscillating 
 movement to the patent spring-cushion upon which she 
 sat, and a corresponding vibration to her whole person 
 — " Hardships are my lot ! " 
 
 "I must really nm and get some breakfast," said 
 Gertrude, who was growing impatient as weU as hungry. 
 Miss Beverley's manner underwent a total metamor- 
 phosis. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, darhng, good Gertrude ! I thouo-ht 
 you had had your breakfast — I did, really ! How selfish 
 I was ! Forgive me — pray, forgive me ! " 
 
 And, so saying, she sprang up from the spring cushion.
 
 196 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 and would have hurried Gertrude out of the room ; but 
 the latter declared she would breakfast off the remains 
 of Miss Beverley's repast, and listen to the recital of her 
 woes meantime. 
 
 It was with rather duninished excitement that Miss 
 Beverley, whilst Gertrude sipped her lukewarm tea, 
 proceeded to narrate that Lady Maud came into the 
 schoolroom that morning, and, after finding fault with 
 the French themes and every thing on the table, went to 
 the window and stood looking out at the distant hills. 
 Whereupon Miss Beverley, who thought the silence 
 awkward, merely observed that 'twas a pity Gertrude 
 did not ride so much now, and intimated that Mr. Nu- 
 o-ent was very remiss not to have ridden with her 
 lately. 
 
 "On this Lady Maud looked round at me," said 
 Miss Beverley — growing rather warm at the recollection 
 
 'looked round at me, as if I had been a mere 
 
 worm, or earwig, or something equally unpleasant and 
 contemptible, and, making a very long neck, said, 
 ^ I do not wish, ]Miss Beverley, that you should couple 
 Miss Usherwood's name with the name of any gentle- 
 man who may chance to obtain the honour of her 
 acquaintance. I don't blame you. You mean it kindly. 
 But let me beg you will be more circumspect.' And
 
 PASSAGE m THE LIFE OF A KAILWAY DIRECTOE. 197 
 
 SO saying, your mamma bowed to me, and sailed out 
 of the room as if I was a street-sweeper to whom she 
 had refused an alms. It is hard after all my troubles 
 and my exertions ! " 
 
 What further would have been said, and how Ger- 
 trude — whom this recital had a little discomposed — 
 would have consoled her companion, vv^e cannot say; for 
 at that moment a solemn tap at the door was heard, 
 and Paine proclaimed, in an impressive whisper through 
 the keyhole, that her ladysliip desired to speak with 
 !Miss Usherwood " directly," and the conference ter- 
 minated. 
 
 Lady Maud, when Gertrude entered her boudoir, was 
 seated near the window, with some open letters, an 
 account-book, and a file or two of bills on a table near 
 her. She looked more serious than usual, and there 
 was a restlessness about her eye which denoted she 
 was not quite at ease. 
 
 " Gertrude, my sweet child," she began, " I have a 
 few words to say to you, if you are quite disengaged." 
 
 Gertrude sat down on a low stool by her mother's side, 
 without any reply, but with a beating heart. 
 
 "Time flies fast, dearest," proceeded her mother. 
 *' Let me see, you were eighteen last spring." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, in ^lay."
 
 198 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 " I was seventeen when I married your father," con- 
 tinued Lady Maud in a meditative mood. " Our family 
 were famous for early marriages. The Countess of 
 Delafield (my lamented grandmother) was still at school 
 when the Earl proposed; and as for my dear mother, 
 it was generally beheved she concealed a doll in her 
 trunk when she started for her wedding tour on the 
 continent." 
 
 Lady Maud paused, and Gertrude wondered whither 
 these remarks were tending. Lady Maud resumed 
 rather abruptly, "Have you ridden lately with Sir 
 Eliot, my dear?" 
 
 "Not very lately — I am not so fond of riding as 
 I was." 
 
 " It is dull riding without a companion," rejoined her 
 mother. ** I am vexed there is so little society in this 
 neidibourhood. We must make the most of what we 
 have, however ; for in the reduced state of your father's 
 finances, a season in town is this year out of the 
 question." 
 
 Gertrude had heard some dark hints on the subject 
 of embarrassed income and pecuniary difficulties. Of 
 course she understood very little, and thought less about 
 the matter; but her mother's countenance and manner 
 were to-day so unusually grave in alluding to the
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF A RAILWAY DIRECTOR. 190 
 
 subject, that Ger trade felt a vague anxiety steal over 
 her mind. 
 
 " Economy has become a duty, and yet how dangerous 
 an one ! It excites disagreeable suspicions, and often 
 precipitates a crisis that might have been averted, or at 
 least postponed. I should be happy, come what may," 
 proceeded Lady Maud, her eyes becoming tearful — 
 " I should be at peace if I could see my daughters 
 advantageously and suitably settled before undeserved 
 distress embittered their young hearts ! " 
 
 Gertrade knelt by her mother's side, and, fondly 
 caressing her, declared that she ought not to think 
 about them ; that if they were all of them to- 
 gether in however humble a home, they would be 
 happy. 
 
 " And you especially, my dearest," continued her mo- 
 ther, gently settling her bracelet and rings, which had 
 been disarranged by her daughter's caresses, and put- 
 ting Gertrude's coUar strait, but all the while in tears — 
 " You, my dearest, I do wish to see united to a man 
 I can trust and esteem ; to one possessed of competent 
 fortune and unblemished name !" 
 
 Gertrude tried to laugh it off as a joke, but succeeded 
 very badly. 
 
 " My sweet, how you tremble ! Kiss me, child, and
 
 200 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 do not agitate yourself needlessly. One would suppose 
 you expected to be married to-morrow ! " 
 
 " Dearest mother, I am in no impatience for such an 
 event, believe me. I am very happy as I am." 
 
 Lady Maud sighed, and taking up a letter appeared 
 to cast her eye over the contents, then, bending down 
 over her daughter, said, ^' Don't flurry yourself, my 
 child. Let us turn to another subject. Will you drive 
 with us to-day to call on the Glairs ?" 
 
 " Mamma," said Gertrude, rather agitated, '' I know 
 you have something more to say to me. I had rather 
 hear it all, and have it over." 
 
 " No, darling, no I There is no need to say more at 
 present. If I had thought you would have been so 
 excited, I should not have bro'ached the subject." 
 
 " Pray, tell me all, mamma. Do not leave me in sus- 
 pense." 
 
 ^' Poor child," replied her mother, stroking Gertrude's 
 flushed cheek, " you are quite in a fever ! You must 
 learn to take these things quietly. I had had three pro- 
 posals at your age, and you have had none yet. At least," 
 she added, glancing at her daughter with a look of 
 gradually dawning suspicion — '^ At least as far as I am 
 aware ; as far as the amount of confidence you have 
 placed in me enables me to judge."
 
 PASSAGE IX THE LIFE OF A EAILWAY DIRECTOE. 201 
 
 " Dearest motlier I" interrupted Gertrude in a depre- 
 cating tone of voice. 
 
 "My love, it may be best to let you know at once, 
 tliat there is one not far from this neighbourhood to 
 whom you are not indifferent." 
 
 Gertrude hid her face in her mother's lap, not know- 
 ing what was coming next, but hoping for the best. 
 
 Lady Maud, with a shght degree of anxiety in her 
 voice and looks, proceeded : — 
 
 '^ In fact, your father and I have this very day re- 
 ceived a letter from the person I allude to, begging our 
 sanction for making a formal offer." 
 
 Gertrude did not move her head, but her heart beat 
 more rapidly. 
 
 *' There is no occasion, of course, for an immediate 
 decision. Very possibly it will take you by surprise. 
 It wiU be the wisest course to act towards him as if 
 he had made no confession of liis feelings, and you 
 were simply on those friendly terms which near neigh- 
 bours in a rather out-of-the-way part of the country 
 ought to be." 
 
 There was a pause, but presently Lady Maud began 
 again — 
 
 ^^ Of course, darling, if you should contract an union 
 which, I may as well admit, both your father and myself
 
 202 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 sincerely desire — If ever tliis should take place, your lot 
 would be cast in quite a different spliere. A brilliant 
 position in the first circles of London society, diversified 
 by visits to the most interesting countries on the Con- 
 tinent, and an occasional sojourn at a luxurious country 
 seat. Such a routine of existence would undoubtedly 
 present an agreeable contrast to your way of life at 
 Beaumont-house — which, I am free to confess, is not far 
 removed from that of a vegetable. Associated mth a 
 husband, possessed of mind as well as heart — and 
 let me incidentally observe, my dear Gertrude, that 
 the man of mind commonly improves upon acquaint- 
 ance, whereas the mere man of 'feeling sooner or 
 later paUs like an insipid sweetmeat — associated, I 
 say, with such a husband as Sir Eliot Prichard " 
 
 Gertrude had hitherto listened, her head reclining on 
 her mother's lap, with tolerable composure to this long 
 address delivered by Lady Maud rapidly, but with dis- 
 tinct emphasis. When, however, she heard the name 
 Sir Eliot, she could no longer contain herself, but, 
 springing to her feet, exclaimed — 
 
 " Mother, I cannot bear him ! I detest him ! I wish 
 he had never been born ! " 
 
 Lady Maud gazed upon her with unaffected amaze- 
 ment. Accustomed to govern, either by the exercise of
 
 PASSAGE IX THE LIFE OF A RAILWAY DIRECTOR. 203 
 
 authority or by judicious management, those who 
 were connected ^vith her, she was unprepared for such a 
 display of self-will and impetuosity in any of her own 
 children, who, she had supposed, needed no more strin- 
 gent influence than that imparted through the medium 
 of Miss Beverley. But the very consciousness of Lady 
 Maud's long-estabHshed authority added intensity to 
 Gertrude's dismay and trouble of mind. Knowing well 
 her mother's power, as well as her own weakness, she 
 rose against it with a kind of desperate audacity. The 
 next moment she sank into a chair, half alarmed at her 
 vehemence; and, yielding to a rush of bitter despondency, 
 could with difficulty restrain her tears. For one little 
 moment Lady Maud's blue eyes quivered with displea- 
 sure, but it passed hke a flash of summer lightning. 
 She rose, stopped for one moment to gaze upon her 
 child's face which trembled with conflicting emotions, 
 and then leaning over her, kissed her forehead, pressed 
 her to her bosom, and soothingly said, " There, there, 
 darling, I have been over hasty. You shall have your 
 own way. Be sure that you shall not be forced to take 
 a step you secretly abhor." 
 
 Gertrude's tears now found free egress. 
 
 " My child," added Lady Maud, regardmg her closely 
 for a moment, '' your affections are elsewhere fixed.
 
 204 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 You have given away your heart, or at least you be- 
 lieve so !" 
 
 Gertrude's lips murmured some inarticulate words. 
 
 " But consider," proceeded her mother — " Does not 
 your heart revolt against succumbing to a passion for 
 one far inferior to yourself in rank, in station, in refine- 
 ment of mind ? You shake your head ! But forgive 
 me, dearest, if I press you further. Does not your 
 maidenly delicacy shrink with horror from nourishing a 
 sentiment that is wholly unrequited ? " 
 
 " Mamma," exclaimed Gertrude, whose feelings 
 were without difficulty probed and laid bare by one so 
 experienced in such investigations as her mother — 
 " Mamma, it is not true !" 
 
 "Not true!" replied her mother; "What do you 
 mean ? What do you know of Mr. Nugent's feelings ?" 
 
 " Mamma ! " replied Gertrude, with sudden energy, 
 " he loves me ! Indeed he does I He told me so him- 
 self. He was to come here this morning to talk it all 
 over with you. No doubt he will soon be here. I 
 wished for him to tell you first, but no concealment was 
 intended. He — is — very — much — attached — to me." 
 
 And poor Gertrude, to speak plain language, began 
 to cry. 
 
 The summer lightning played fitfuUy for an instant in
 
 PASSAGE IX THE LITE OF A EAILWAY DIRECTOK. 205 
 
 Lady Maud's blue eves. She took a tui^n up and down 
 the room, as if to command her feelings. Then stopped 
 suddenly, and said in a low, almost quiet voice — " Poor 
 child ! And \Yhen, may I venture to ask, did you come 
 to this understanding ?" 
 
 " Yesterday," sobbed Gertrude. 
 
 '• Yesterday ! Only yesterday ! And that accounted 
 for yoiu- being so late. You met liira, I suppose ? Yes, 
 yes, of course."' 
 
 A few minutes of silence passed, and then Lady Maud 
 embraced her daughter affectionately, but gi'avely. 
 
 "Do not leave the house, dearest," she said; " I may 
 want you again. You will be glad to be alone. Go, 
 and bathe those poor, swollen eyes ; and remember, 
 we must be patient — all of us. If bitter disappointment 
 be in store for your poor father and myself, I fear, 
 dearest, that you too will have your trial to bear. We 
 must comfort and support one another." 
 
 And, embracing her daughter once more, she dis- 
 missed her, and, seating herself by the window, leant 
 her head upon her hand in deep thought. Then risino-, 
 and murmuring to herself — " I can scarcely blame her, 
 but it is much to be regretted," she hastily quitted 
 the apartment, and made the best of her way to the 
 library. She paused with her hand on the door to re-
 
 206 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 cover breath, having run down-stairs more rapidly than 
 usual, and heard the sound of some one breathing 
 heavily, as if in a deep but oppressive slumber. — 
 "Poor fellow!" said Lady Maud — ''He is asleep, I 
 must not wake him." And she opened the door very 
 gently, in order not to rouse her husband. 
 
 The library was a well-Hghted sunny room, having a 
 laro-e bow-window at one end. When Lady Maud en- 
 tered however it was partially darkened, the large 
 window curtain of red damask having been let down. 
 ^Ir. Usherwood had lately found the light too much 
 for his eyes. Before, however, Lady Maud could dis- 
 tinctly take in all the objects in the room, she felt a 
 cold chill strike her, as if there v^as something, she 
 knew not what, amiss. It crept through her instan- 
 taneously, and independently of any intelligence 
 through the ordinary senses. The next moment a sud- 
 den scream burst from her lips. Upon the rug, in front 
 of an arm-chair from vs^hich he seemed to have shd 
 down, lay her husband stretched at full length, ap- 
 parently in a state of stupor. Lady Maud was not a 
 woman merely to stand still and scream. She rushed 
 to the bell, rang it with all her force, threw open the 
 window, and, kneehng down by her husband, untied his 
 cravat and collar, and allowed the air from outside to
 
 PASSAGE IX THE LITE OF A EAILWAY DIRECTOE. 207 
 
 play upon his head and face. The thought rushed 
 through her mind amidst all her terror and anguish, 
 that there was One whom in her prosperity she had too 
 little regarded ; One to whom now in the bitterness of 
 her sold she would fain cry, and cry with all her 
 strength, but feared it woidd be in vain. For how 
 could she, who had not sought Ilim whilst all was well 
 with her, expect He woidd be with her in the day of 
 her calamity ? 
 
 All this passed in far less time than it takes to de- 
 scribe. In a few seconds the room was fidl of servants, 
 Avild with alarm and pei'j^lexity. The slammino- of 
 doors, the ringing of bells, and by and bye the sobs of 
 women and children, broke the stillness of the house. 
 Lady Maud, herself, vras now cahn. She dbected that 
 her husband should be carried to his bedroom, and de- 
 spatched the servants for medical aid. As she went 
 to and fro, she met Gertrnde standing pale and trem- 
 bling in the passage, and eager to be of some use. She 
 kissed her, and said hastily — 
 
 ^' Go, dear — go and comfort your poor sisters; tell 
 them I tinist your father will soon be better. The 
 doctor has been sent for." Gertrude retmTied to the 
 school-room, and endeavoured to console her sisters as 
 well as she could. She thought she would read to them
 
 208 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 out of the Bible. Her mind instinctively turned to that 
 source of pea^e and comfort, which as yet, it is to be 
 feared, she had regarded too much in the light of a mere 
 lesson-book. 
 
 Miss Beverley had gone to pay a visit to Mrs. Clair's 
 governess, and had locked up all the school-room Bibles 
 and prayer-books. So Gertrude ran to her room, and 
 fetched the ornamented church service book her mother 
 had a few months ago presented to her. Sitting down, and 
 draAvinsf As^atha and Jessie to either side, she read 
 one of the psalms with a faltering voice, whilst the 
 gaudy decorations surrounding the page were wetted 
 by her tears. 
 
 Meantime Lady Maud, having done what she could for 
 her unconscious husband, returned to the library. Some- 
 tliing seemed to have occurred to her mind. She drew up 
 the crimson curtains, through which the sun now cast a 
 sanguine glare, and making her way across the room 
 amidst articles of furniture displaced in the recent confu- 
 sion, snatched from the table, near the chair where her 
 husband had been seated, several letters that looked as 
 if they had been freshly torn open. One of them, dated 
 a day or two back, was from a railway director, urging 
 ]Mr. Usherwood's attendance at the meeting of the com- 
 mittee of inquiry into the affairs of the Rentworth line.
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF A EAILWAY DIRECTOR. 209 
 
 He must have kept it in his pocket unopened through 
 fear of the contents. Another contained a concise ab- 
 stract of the labours of the committee, hastily drawn up, 
 exposing the disastrous condition of the company, and 
 stating the disappearance of the parties principally re- 
 sponsible for the liabihties incurred; whilst his attendance 
 at the sitting of the committee was again urged upon him. 
 Then there was a hastily scrawled note from the actino- 
 secretary, briefly describing the riots of the day before, 
 and stating the necessity of funds being immediately 
 raised for the discharge of all the more pressing and 
 important claims upon the company. This correspon- 
 dence was of a grave character; but it was followed 
 by a letter which gave Lady jNIaud more uneasiness 
 than all she had hitherto read. It was from their 
 solicitor, and in it there was distinct allusion to 
 certain moneys invested in the Three per Cents., 
 which it was intended to settle upon their children. 
 From the tenor of the solicitor's letter, it appeared that 
 the sum in question had been, unknown to Lady 
 ^Maud, sold out of the funds, and employed to meet the 
 calls made by the railway company upon the holders of 
 their shares. 
 
 Severe as was this fresh blow, it was far less acutely 
 felt by Lady Maud, at the present juncture, than would 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 ' BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 have been the case if all had been as usual in the house. 
 Now, with her husband lying in dangerous illness, the 
 loss of income sank into comparative insignificance. 
 She turned almost with a sense of nausea from matters 
 of business and of money. Nevertheless it seemed 
 highly probable that the unfavourable intelligence con- 
 tained in the letters she had just read, was in part the 
 occasion of her husband's sudden and alarming attack. 
 Locking up the letters she left the room, and once more 
 ascended to the bedroom of the sick man. 
 
 In the mean time, the coachman had saddled a horse 
 and started at a gallop for Mr. Grierson. Finding him 
 from home he set off in pursuit, and, after tracing him 
 from place to place, at length overtook him near 
 the union workhouse at Flintwood. He was in his 
 gig, and, in order to save time, John proposed his 
 mounting the horse he was riding himself. To this Mr. 
 Grierson acceded; and, leaving John to follow in his gig, 
 sprang up on the horse and was soon out of sight. 
 John followed at first at a sober pace, but presently, 
 growing anxious to hear how his master was, gently 
 urged ISIr. Grierson's horse forward. On passing Mr. 
 Lovell's parsonage, he observed the rector in close con- 
 versation with his old gardener, devising, as it would 
 seem, some sort of horticultural employment for half a
 
 PASSAGE IX THE LITE OF A KAIL^AY DIEECTOR. 211 
 
 dozen stout lU'diins from the national school, whom, as 
 it was holiday week, Lovell ^\'i5hed to keep out of mis- 
 chief. 
 
 The gardener eyed them with extreme suspicion, and 
 as he occasionally turned up a good clod of earth with 
 his spade, and reversed it again with leisurely exertion 
 of strength, seemed to wish he could as easily bury 
 the vounc: 2:entlemen beside him out of sio^ht as he did 
 the cimmbling mould beneath him. The young gentle- 
 men in question looked awfidly demure whenever Lovell's 
 eye glanced towards them, but exhibited the next mo- 
 ment an air of joyous impertinence, which boded ill for 
 the aged gardeners peace of mind. The coachman, as 
 he drove by, touched bis hat to Lovell, and directly after 
 pulled up, and, stepping down from the gig, ran back to 
 the parsonage, and, again touching his hat, informed 
 Lovell that — " Master was taken very bad." 
 
 Lovell left the gardener in the hands of the boys, 
 and, opening the garden gate, joined the coachman 
 outside. "AYhat is the matter with him, John?" 
 Jolin shook his head, and intimated that it was a bad 
 job. That master had had an "apoplexy." That he 
 ought to be blooded. That Jobn's grandfather went 
 off in just such a fit. That he was a kind master 
 to him, though he knew no more of a horse than a
 
 212 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 babe unborn. Lovell told the coachman that he should 
 like to caU at the house, and see if he could be of any ser- 
 vice. This step was precisely what John intended should 
 be taken, and he helped LoveU into the gig with great 
 satisfaction, observing as he reassuined the reins, and 
 gave Mr. Grierson's bony horse an impressive hint with 
 the whip, that he for his part liked to see the parson 
 treading on the doctor's heels. 
 
 "I'm afraid, John," said Lovell, "the Christian 
 priest is often called in when it is too late." 
 
 " The parson, you mean, sir?" answered John. " Why, 
 I'm afeard on't, sir. Look ye here, sir, if my master 
 had a mind for one of his horses to run a race (which, 
 poor gentleman ! he would as soon run a race himself as 
 even hear on), that 'ere horse had need be trained, and 
 sweated, and exercised, and got in condition weeks afore 
 the race come off. I'm of opinion, if it warn't so, he'd 
 cut a sorry figure as he hobbled past the judge's stand." 
 " Well, John, that's true enough ; but we must never 
 despair, however late we begin." 
 
 On arriving at Beaumont-house, Lovell found that 
 tranquillity was in some measure restored. Mr. Grierson 
 was stiU with his patient, who exhibited signs of return- 
 ing consciousness. There was fair hope of restoration 
 to comparative, if not to complete health. Perfect
 
 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF A EAILWAY DIEECTOK. 213 
 
 composure, and freedom from all exciting influences, 
 were indispensable conditions of recovery. Lady Maud 
 already felt her heart lighter. She, however, received 
 Lovell's visit ^\'ith thankfulness, and listened with 
 some attention to the few words of a serious character 
 he contrived to utter, diuing the five minutes she re- 
 mained with him in the drawing-room. She left him in 
 haste, with a little nervousness of manner, alleging as 
 a reason that she might be wanted in the sick-room. 
 Gertrude and the two girls were lying down in the 
 school-room. As Lovell crossed the hall on his way out 
 he lighted upon ]Mr. Grierson, drinking a glass of home- 
 brewed beer with an air of enjoyment pleasant to be- 
 hold. Let not the reader think Grierson in the smallest 
 degree self-indulgent or intemperate for so doing. It 
 was now four o'clock, and he had tasted nothing since 
 his breakfast at eight o'clock, consisting of a cup 
 of smoked coffee and a dubious egg, with a piece of 
 bread which he put into the box seat of his gig in- 
 tending to finish, but had forgotten to do so. He 
 now had no time to partake of substantial food, but 
 accepted a glass of beer to support him in his visits to 
 two paupers eight miles asunder, to whom he was 
 supplying sarsapariUa and quinine at the yearly rate of 
 about a quarter of his salary.
 
 214 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 "Bj the bye, Lovell," said Mr. Grierson, *^have 
 you heard the news from over the hills ? Sad 
 riots!" 
 
 " Why," said Lovell, " I saw two or three yeomanry 
 trotting to and fro this afternoon. I thought they were 
 going to meet for drill or exercise." 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! The navvies are burning Rent- 
 worth, and the miners are marching to join them ! 
 They say poor Rubbley went down on his knees to the 
 lord-heutenant to ask for protection ! " 
 
 " The navigators are not generally iU disposed," said 
 Lovell. " What has put them out ?" 
 
 '' Much the same thing, I suspect, as put our poor 
 friend up-stairs out," rejoined Grierson — " the railway 
 break-down and panic. The men are gone wild. How- 
 ever, I must be off. I hope things will mend." 
 
 " Had I better stay a little longer?" 
 
 " It would be as well," replied Grierson. " I shall 
 look in again when I have ridden my sixteen miles. 
 John must give my horse a mash. Well, I really 
 do hope things will mend." 
 
 And, so saying, Mr. Grierson smiled hopefully at the 
 butler who took his glass, then at Lovell, then at John 
 who was standing beside his gig at the front door, and 
 lastly at his horse who seemed to feel the cheering in-
 
 PASSAGE IX THE LIFE OF A PtAILWAY DIRECTOE. 215 
 
 fliience, and set off Ts-ithoiit hesitation at the rate of 
 nine miles an lioiir. 
 
 In the meanwhile, our friend Miss Beverley had taken 
 an unusually long excm'slon. She had walked to pay 
 a visit to the governess of Colonel Clair's childi'en, with 
 whom she had of late been wont to confer at intervals on 
 mutual grievances, as well as on the general degrada- 
 tion of their class. On the present occasion, the little 
 Glairs being absent on a ^isit, ^Irs. Clair invited Miss 
 Beverley to take an early dinner with her friend. Ac- 
 cordingly the two governesses, !^Ess Beverley and ]Miss 
 Seton, sat do\^TL to a very enjoyable repast of cutlets 
 and curry, together ^yil]l a bottle of excellent port. 
 The colonel, being proud of his port, made the butler 
 decant it in his presence, and then dogged him down 
 the passage imtil he saw it safe inside the school-room. 
 After a ijlass or two of this animatinsc beveras^e, the 
 ladies became communicative as well as sentunental. 
 They marvelled at the early development of infant ma- 
 Hgnity. They discussed the particidar merits and de- 
 merits of their pupils. From thence they glanced casu- 
 ally to the flavour and quality of the last home-brewed 
 beer ; touched lightly upon the uncertain character of 
 school-room tea ; and glided into a short dissertation on 
 the arrogance and pertness of ladies' maids and upper
 
 216 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 housemaids. Then Miss Seton, in confidence, informed 
 Miss Beverley, that there was one intolerable and gall- 
 ing grievance which loaded her mtli moral fetters, 
 and would certainly end in obliging her to seek a more 
 genial sphere. This was, that Mrs. Clair frequently 
 remitted or modified the punishments Miss Seton in- 
 flicted unwillingly, and as a solemn duty, upon the little 
 Clairs. 
 
 " For instance," said Miss Seton ; " the other day I 
 was compelled to punish Fanny. She came to her music 
 lesson with one thumb nail dirty. I ordered her to go to 
 bed at six o'clock as a slight correction. "Would you 
 believe it ? Mrs. Clair commuted the punishment to 
 rising next morning an hour earlier than usual, alleging 
 as a reason that it was Colonel Clair's birthday, and 
 he liked to have his children about him ! Festivity, and 
 folly, and parental levity elevated above the duty we owe 
 to a child's opening mind and budding offensiveness ! 
 It ties my hands and wrings my heart ! " 
 
 And Miss Seton took a good sip of port wine as she 
 completed her sentence. Then Miss Beverley began to 
 intimate, that for her part she was sorry to say Lady 
 Maud sometimes did not treat her with that delicate 
 tact and generosity a lonely woman, intrusted with a 
 great charge, might look for at her hands.
 
 PASSAGE Ds' THE LIFE OF A EAILYv'AY DIRECTOE. 217 
 
 "For instance/' proceeded Miss Beverley, '^tlie onus 
 of pimlshing my pupils is constantly deputed to me. It 
 is mamma who is to kiss, and to praise, and pet them. / 
 am to punish, scold, pull them this way and that. One 
 day Lady Maud came to me and said, just bending her 
 graceful neck round the corner of the school-room door : 
 ' ^liss Beverley, I am soiTy to say Jessie and Agatha 
 lay awake talking last night till nearly twelve o'clock. 
 I should hke you to give them a punishment.' Then 
 I have to execute the disao-reeable task of scoldino; 
 them for half an hour, and giving them the verb Dormir 
 to write out six times. It does chill one's best energies 
 to be allotted only the drudgery and bitterness of educa- 
 tion, while the mother engrosses the pleasantness and 
 the interest of it. One soon wearies of inflicting pun- 
 ishment ! " 
 
 *'Do you?" interrupted ^liss Seton. "Oh! but the 
 duty of it ! That is what keeps one up — the sense of 
 duty ! You see the passionate girl ; the pert, malignant 
 pupil ; the dirty slut. A voice says — ' Do your duty ! ' 
 loudly in both ears. You punish. The conscience is 
 satisfied— the child benefited." 
 
 !Miss Seton waved a rather powerfld hand so ear- 
 nestly in the ah' as she said this, that !Miss Beverley 
 natm-ally asked, "Do you slap?"
 
 218 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 ^^ Sometimes. But I find a slight pinch apparently 
 given in jest very effective. Don't you pinch?" 
 
 " Oh ! indeed, no ! " answered Miss Beverley. 
 
 " Nor slap ? " inquired Miss Seton, in surprise. 
 
 " No !" cried Miss Beverley. '' I don't mean to say I 
 have never done such a thing in my life ; but only when 
 unusually provoked." 
 
 " My dear/' said Miss Seton, '^ you surprise me ! 
 Don't you even fillip 1 " 
 
 '' Why," answered Mss Beverley, bkishing, " I con- 
 fess I have at music ; but very rarely." 
 
 " Well, your children are out of the common, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Pretty well. I am very fond of them after all. 
 And then mammas are so jealous of the honour and luxury 
 of striking their own flesh and blood. ISIy poor friend 
 Araminta Tarantula Smith " 
 
 " What a fine name I " said Miss Seton, 
 
 " Oh, you know, she was given those fine names in 
 order to get her into the Governess' Institution. Sub- 
 scribers generally vote in favour of the candidate who 
 has the prettiest name. Well, Araminta Tarantula was 
 governess to Mrs. Lahoope. The little Lahoopes were 
 tiresome. She 2:ave a mild box on the ear to each of the 
 three in succession."
 
 PASSAGE IX THE LIFE OF A RAILWAY DIEECTOR. 219 
 
 ''Which I have no doubt," observed Miss Seton, 
 "they riclily deserved." 
 
 "The childi-en, hke sad httle telltales, told 'Mis, 
 Lahoope. In came Mrs. Lahoope — ' Miss ! if you dare 
 touch my children, I tell you what, you shaU never 
 darken my doors again. Miss ! ' " 
 
 " What a mother ! " exclaimed Mss Seton. " One 
 marvels whether the idiot or the tyrant is most conspi- 
 cuous in her conduct ! " 
 
 " However," continued ^liss Beverley, " it all ended 
 in hysterics and muUed ^^'ine ; and they made it up 
 again. But Araminta Tarantula for the future kept her 
 fingers to herself, and I think she was right." 
 
 At this point of the conversation, word was sent up 
 that the groom, who had ridden over to let Lady Maud 
 know Mss Beverley was going to stay dinner, had 
 brought back intelligence that ^Ir. Usherv\'ood had had 
 an apoplectic stroke, and was lying very ill. 
 
 ^liss Beverley was rather shocked. She thought of 
 the alann and anguish of Lady Maud, of Gertrude, of 
 the younger girls ; and felt abashed to think she had 
 been spending so much time in lamenting over trials 
 and vexations of comparative unimportance. She did 
 not like to cry before the strong-minded ^liss Seton, but 
 had a hard struggle to prevent it. " The Voice from
 
 220 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 the School-room " was in her pocket, meant for Miss 
 Seton's perusal ; but she altered her mind, and kept it 
 where it was. Then took a hasty leave, and started 
 over the hill for Beaumont-house.
 
 THE KIOTEKS CKOSS THE MOOR. 221 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE EIOTEPtS CROSS THE MOOR. 
 
 It was late in the afteiTioon when strano-e rumours 
 
 o 
 
 began to float about the neighbourhood, that a multitude 
 of riotous men were pouring along the road, and across 
 the fields extending between Okenham and the Rent- 
 worth hills. 
 
 Now, to the west of Beaumont-house, that picturesque 
 valley opened which we have already described to the 
 reader as having apparently been at some time or 
 other the channel of a huge river, or arm of the sea. 
 The Manor-house Farm was situate on the side of the 
 valley furthest from Beaumont-house, and could be 
 distinctly seen from the plains beyond. An observer, 
 on scaling the high ground at the back of the latter 
 mansion, could obtain an extensive view of the country 
 stretching towards the Rentworth hills. It was for the 
 most part a level plain intersected by straight roads and 
 stagnant ditches, occasionally clothed, and that scantily, 
 with groups of alder and ash ; whilst here and there the
 
 222 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 eye detected a row of lean hungry-looking poplars, 
 ranged alono^ the distant road-side like a reociment of 
 notes of admiration ; or now and then an oak or two of 
 sturdy but stunted proportions, rose flat as a mushroom 
 out of that chilly soil. At long intervals dirty- 
 white cottages lined the side of the road, with strips of 
 garden ground in front of them raised in high ridges 
 to let the wet run off: or a farm with its collection 
 of irregular buildings grouped round it, sheltered 
 by thickly planted trees : or an orchard, whose 
 towering thorn-fence protected the moss-grown sickly- 
 lookino^ fruit-trees from the bleak winds that so often 
 scoured the miles of damp black moor on either side. 
 Taken alone, the level plain might have struck the 
 eye as monotonous and dreary, but the fertile slopes 
 leading up to the well-wooded hills on the north, 
 cleft asunder by the steep gorge before alluded to, 
 and occasionally near their summit breaking into 
 masses of precipitous rocks; the long line of purple 
 mountains which rose hazy in the distance beyond 
 Rentworth, and formed the southern boundary of 
 the moor; the glimpses of the tranquil sea, appear- 
 ing here and there above the trees, fiir away to the 
 west — altogether formed a landscape rich and inter- 
 esting, full of novelty, replete with pleasing contrasts.
 
 THE KIOTEES CROSS THE MOOE. 223 
 
 upon wliicli tlie spectator was not soon tired of gaz- 
 ing. 
 
 It was, then, amongst the hamlets scattered over the 
 northern portion of tliis district, that the rumours above 
 refeiTed to began to gain ground. News of this kind 
 travels fast ; and, though the mob suffered no one to 
 precede them, turning back or forcibly detaining every 
 horseman, or spring-cart, or farmer's coburgh that over- 
 took them on the road; yet, whilst they were still distant 
 from Beaumont-house five or six miles, the knowledofe 
 of their approach was spreading consternation through 
 the district. It was said that several thousand desperate 
 men were sweepmg across the moor, destroying and 
 trampling down the heavy crops that in favourable 
 seasons rose from that rich alluvial land, pillaging 
 orchards, tearing down fences, and levying contributions 
 in the shape of cider, beer, and bread and cheese, on 
 every farm-house they passed. This version of the 
 number of the mob, and the devastations they were 
 committing, was slightly exaggerated. When the 
 rioters, re-assembling near the mines after thefr hasty re- 
 treat from Rentworth, started for the moor, they cer- 
 tainly mustered near a thousand men, but this amount 
 began to diminish before they had completed many 
 miles of their journey Some thought better of it and
 
 224 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 turned back, others were tired and lay down ; some, 
 again, turned into beer-sliops and public-houses, and 
 could not be got to stir out again. So that, by the time 
 the rioters were about four miles from the place of their 
 destination, they Avere but three or four hundred in 
 number. Even these would probably have dwindled 
 away still farther ; but HarriU, who was now their chief 
 leader, led them upon a farm-house near the road-side, 
 and compelled the mistress to give them all the cider on 
 her premises. This revived their drooping courage, and 
 they once more started forwards, some running, some 
 shouting, some singing, some brandishing various 
 weapons of oiFence— such as fowling-pieces, old muskets, 
 iron bars, pickaxes, and other tools used by navvies and 
 miners, as well as pokers, reaping-hooks, and bludgeons. 
 Kesistance was not much thought of at Okenham, or 
 any where else. In the first place, the principal farmers 
 and gentlemen were in the yeomanry, and consequently 
 far away. In the next place, it was beheved that the 
 multitude approaching were as has been said some 
 thousands in number, and well armed. Many of the 
 villagers fled, others hid themselves. As, however, it 
 became more and more probable towards which point 
 the mob were moving, people began to drop in one 
 after the other at the back-door of Beaumont-house,
 
 THE RIOTERS CROSS THE MOOR. 225 
 
 to give notice of the approaching danger, and to tender 
 advice or offer assistance as the case might be. Now it 
 was the surgeon's positive injunction that the most ab- 
 solute tranquillity shoidd be preserved, not only in Mr. 
 Usherwood's bedroom, but throughout the whole house. 
 \Miat was to be done ? 
 
 This was a question nobody seemed able to solve. 
 A hurried and agitated debate was held in the servants' 
 hall. The extreme anxiety and perplexity of the 
 emergency levelled all distinctions. ^Irs. ^Millet, the 
 housekeeper, forgot herself so far as to sit down upon 
 an ordinary bench, instead of the broad-bottomed 
 arm-chair which formed her usual throne, in a state 
 of blank imbecility, quite stunned by the magni- 
 tude of the danger. Placing her hands on her knees, 
 she incessantly asked, ^' Will any body tell us what we 
 are to do?" repeating it over and over again without 
 stopping, and looking straight into the fireplace all the 
 time. By her side sat the kitchen-maid, who was sob- 
 bing and crying as if her heart would break, her face all 
 smeared vdth tears and soot, having rubbed it with 
 her hands just after cleaning a saucepan. The butler 
 was giving one of the housemaids, who had been 
 threatened with a faint, a wine-glass of choice Maras- 
 chino. The other housemaid vras loud in talk with the 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 S26 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 page and footmaiij who, having differed as to the 
 probable number of the mob, were only prevented from 
 proceeding to blovfs by her vigorous interference. 
 Three or four labouring men were drinking beer in 
 another corner of the room, assisted by the coachman 
 and two of the gardeners. Lucy Weston had been up- 
 stairs, but, on passing one of the back-doors of the 
 mansion, she beheld her brother peering in as if in 
 search for some one. 
 
 •*^ G-eorge, what are you doing there ? Come in 
 ^llrectly," she said. 
 
 "Don't you know the news ?" he asked. 
 ■ " To be sure. Every body is talking of it. Wliat to 
 do I don't know. I daren't tell my young lady. If 
 the old gentleman hears it, he will go off at once." 
 
 "Well, Lucy, I've just stepped up to comfort you 
 all." 
 
 " George dear, I'm afraid you can't help us," said 
 Lucy despondingly. 
 
 *^ I tell you what," said Weston ; " these fellows from 
 Eentworth and the mines are under my thumb. Whv, 
 my dear little Lucy, don't you know I've lectured to 
 'them scores of times ? They owe me much. I opened 
 iheir minds and told them all their grievances." 
 
 '^' WeE, I know you're very clever, George," answered
 
 THE RIOTERS CROSS THE MOOR. 227 
 
 Lucy. ''But they're a wild set. Will tliey mind 
 you / 
 
 " Mind me ! IVe drawn tears from tlieir eyes in de- 
 scribing to them their wretched condition. One night I 
 worked them up to such a pitch, that a whole lot of 
 them sprang fi'om their seats, and swore they would 
 smash the aristocracy at a blow 1" 
 
 Lucy, Avho was a pretty-looking girl with soft blue 
 eyes, gazed at her brother admiringly, and, seizino- his 
 arm, cried, " Go then, dear George, stop them. Tell 
 them this is a sad sick house — teE them " 
 
 " My poor child," interrupted Weston, " I know 
 what to teU them. Make yourself easy. I shall brino- 
 them up as short as if they had come against a stone wall." 
 
 ** That's a good dear George," said Lucy. "And 
 how smart you are too!" she added, noticing that he 
 was dressed in his Sunday clothes — that is to say, a suit 
 of black with white cravat and waistcoat. 
 
 " Of course ! 'Tis my lecturing dress. I think all 
 uniform, livery, or costume of any sort — whether in kintr, 
 parson, soldier or lawyer — a base mockery. But you 
 see, Lucy, they wouldn't know me in my working-dress. 
 And, Lucy, dear, just get me a glass of wine or some- 
 thing. I shall have to speak pretty loud, and strong 
 too, perhaps."
 
 228 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Lucy ran off to the servants' hall, and announced 
 publicly that her brother was going to lecture the mob, 
 and send them all home ; at the same time signifying 
 her brother's request to the butler. That worthy, with 
 the greatest alacrity, fetched a bottle of his master's 
 choicest port, whilst the other servants trooped out of 
 the hall and gathered reverentially round Weston, 
 whom, a few hours before, they would have shrunk from 
 with disgust. Mrs. Millet, however, still remained seated 
 on the bench, exclaiming, though nobody was in the 
 room — " Will any body tell me what to do ? " 
 
 In the butler's pantry the coachman had, however, 
 collected a sort of opposition party, consisting of two 
 gardeners and the groom. These were employed in 
 cleaning and loading two or three guns, a blunderbuss, 
 and some pistols ; whilst the under-housemaids, aided 
 by the footman and page, employed themselves in shut- 
 ting the outside Venetian blinds, and fastening the shut- 
 ters of the lower windows. 
 
 Weston, after drinking his wine, hastened back to- 
 wards the main road where a friendly baker was waiting 
 for him in a coburgh cart. The baker had promised to 
 give him a lift for a mile or two, so as to stop the pro- 
 gress of the mob as soon as possible. Having been 
 driven about two miles, Weston desired him to puU up,
 
 THE EIOTEES CEOSS THE MOOR. 229 
 
 for he could discern in the distance some of the more 
 advanced portion of the mob pressing forwards along the 
 road ; first one or two — then in greater numbers. The 
 foremost bore a banner, consisting of a sheet upon a 
 barber's pole, bearing the inscription on one side of 
 *' Peace and Fraternity!" on the other, "A bellyful 
 for us, or a bloody grave for you!" Another man 
 close behind carried a flag, on which " Death to the 
 Railway Rogues " was inscribed, with a skull and cross- 
 bones coarsely painted under it ; and above it, a heart 
 stuck through with a butcher's knife. This flag was 
 bespattered with blood ; probably, that of a sheep or 
 bullock. 
 
 Long before Weston had accurately made out these 
 cheerful and inspiriting devices and inscriptions, the 
 worthy baker had hastily bade him good-bye, and with 
 an earnest request that he would mind what he was 
 about and take care of himself, whipped his horse to a 
 gallop and rattled his spring-cart back to Okenham. 
 Here he aggravated the prevailing alarm by a vivid 
 report of the frightful appearance of the savage horde 
 trooping across the moor. 
 
 Weston stepped a httle to one side of the road, and 
 reconnoitred the disorderly procession as it neared the 
 spot where he stood. Several fellows with smutted faces
 
 230 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 immediately followed the banner just described. These 
 were walking in some sort of order, and had an air of ugly 
 determination about them which Weston did not like, 
 particularly as they had two or three guns amongst them, 
 and bore heavy bludgeons on their shoulders. Behind 
 them came a long straggling crowd of men and boys. 
 Some walking arm-hi-arm ; some making rude music by 
 beating iron pots with tongs and pokers ; some clashing 
 their sticks and weapons together, and yelling in chorus. 
 A good many had jumped the ditches on either side, and 
 were pursuing their course along the fields in a parallel 
 line with those in the road. A few lagged behind or 
 lay down to rest, either overcome with liquor or with 
 fatigue. 
 
 The spectacle was not exactly a pleasant one, and 
 the weekly lecturer at the Philanthropic Institute felt 
 a momentary misgiving. But to escape w'as not easy, 
 for there were ditches on each side, and the mob were 
 in the fields as well as in the road. As they approached, 
 he stopped and took off his hat. This salutation was 
 returned by a decayed turnip flung at his head from the 
 adjacent field. This was not encouraging ; but stepping 
 upon the trunk of a large oak-tree, recently felled, which 
 lay along the side of the road, he held out his hand and 
 claimed attention. " Why ! blessed if it ain't our lee-
 
 THE RIOTERS CROSS THE MOOR. 231 
 
 turer ! " shouted a man who wore a tin saucepan on his 
 head bj way of a hehnet. ^' It's orator Weston ! " cried 
 another, leaping on the tree trunk and slapping him on 
 the back. ^' Hurrah ! here's the doctor ! Three cheers 
 for Doctor Weston ! " The mob, who were now begin- 
 ning to stop and gather round the tree, shouted frantically, 
 but only a few kncAV what it was all about. Presently,, 
 Harrill came running up, and recognizing Weston, cried 
 out to him with an oath — 
 
 " What brings you here, you cursed fool ? What 
 are you up to ? Eh, you fool — eh ? Don't you know 
 there's no time to lose ? " 
 
 " My dear friends,"^ shouted Weston, not heeding the 
 interruption — " my dear friends, it does my heart good 
 to see you. This is a glorious triumph ! Yes, gentle- 
 men — yes, my dear friends, this is a great triumph, and 
 I rejoice to witness it. May the great ones of the earth, 
 kings, princes, peers, and parsons, take the lesson home 
 to their corrupt hearts ! May the besotted squire and 
 the bloated bishop, may the mincing lady with her 
 painted face, may the whole herd of land-owners, house- 
 o\^^lers, and mill-owners, parliament lords and cotton 
 lords, roll and wriggle under your feet, a mass of fes- 
 tering corruption, never to rise again ! " Immense ap- 
 plause followed this exordium, and Weston proceeded
 
 232 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 with increased confidence. *' My brave fellows, you are 
 a lot of thorough -bred Britons, and no mistake ! I see 
 before me many a village Hampden, and hear the voice 
 of many a mute inglorious Milton." 
 
 " GeorgCj thou cursed fool," interposed Harrill, " cut 
 it short, I say ! " And he griped his leg with an energy 
 which brought tears to the orator's eyes. 
 
 " Gentlemen,'* resumed Weston, " tears rush to 
 these horny eyes to behold this beautiful, this touching 
 spectacle ! The dumb suffering millions have indeed 
 found a voice ! Let it be heard ! Eoar into the ears 
 of your oppressors those withering truths which to be 
 acknowledged and obeyed need only to be heard ! Eoar, 
 shoutj proclaim to Europe, to the four quarters of the 
 globe, that the people must have their rights ! But re- 
 member '' Here the orator endeavoured to assume a 
 
 solemn and impressive tone. " Remember, you must 
 triumph by moral force. The calm force of reason and 
 morality. The mild gushing radiance of truth gently yet 
 irresistibly sweeping the shades of ignorance and error 
 ivom a weary world. No brute violence. No drop of 
 brother's blood. Oh, we must win them by love ! " 
 exclaimed Weston, extending his arms wide, as if he 
 wished to embrace all human kind at once — " by love — 
 peace and love, instead of war and hatred ! "
 
 THE KIOTEES CEOSS THE MOOE. 233 
 
 The mob bv this time began to show signs of impa- 
 tience, and the man with the tin pot on his head disre- 
 spectfully called out, '^ I say, old boy, your getting 
 prosy ! " 
 
 An ill-looking lad near him began to unitate Punch, 
 to the extreme amusement of the multitude, whilst a 
 stout fellow, with one of the balusters of the inn staircase 
 in his hand, expressed a strong opinion that that 'ere rot 
 might go down very well at the ** Fill-and-sloppit Club," 
 but " wam't of no account where there was any business 
 afoot." Harrill roared to the men to push on, and waste 
 no more time. But just at that moment a clod of earth, 
 flung by some one in the adjacent field, hit Weston a 
 smart blow on the shoulder. He turned with angry haste 
 to see who had struck him, but, at the instant, slip went 
 his foot, and over he went with his heels in the air to- 
 wards the edge of the ditch. He tried to save himself, 
 but the ground was shppery, and, in the twinkling of an 
 eye, he shot plump into the ditch. A hoarse roar of merri- 
 ment greeted this misadventure, and no one at first 
 seemed disposed to aid the weekly lecturer at the 
 Philanthropic Club, who emerged completely drench- 
 ed in shmy black mud, and stood in the middle of 
 the ditch up to his waist panting for breath. Har- 
 rill, however, and one or t-.vo others, presently gave
 
 234 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 him a hand, and he was rescued from his unpleasant 
 position. 
 
 " Come along with us, doctor ; never heed the filth ! 
 It's aU the better, for thou wast rigged too much like a 
 gemman afore! " exclaimed the man in the helmet. Whilst 
 several of the mob seized hold of him, and, despite his 
 struggles, hoisted him on their shoulders, shouting 
 " The Doctor ! The Doctor ! Make way for the Doctor! 
 He's the man who'll physic the railway rogues ! " Then 
 hurrying along after the main body of their companions, 
 carried Weston with them lifted up on high, angrily 
 endeavouring to escape the honour conferred upon 
 him. 
 
 On arriving at a point where four roads met, the mob 
 again halted. They were now close to the hills of Oken- 
 ham, and could just see the chimneys of Beaumont-house 
 rising above the distant trees. To the left of the park 
 and plantations, the entrance of the valley was seen to 
 expand, richly wooded, and studded with cottages. Two 
 or three grey church towers rose quietly among trees 
 and cottao;es at intervals alons^ the recedins; hills. 
 Harrill waited until the strao:G:lers and more erratic of 
 the mob had joined the main body, and then, standing 
 in the middle of his rough companions, proposed that 
 himself, and a portion of the most active of the men,
 
 THE EIOTERS CROSS THE MOOE. 235 
 
 should turn off to the Manor Farm, and fire the ricks in 
 the stack-yard. They had ascertained from several 
 sources that Kugent's yeomanry troop had been called 
 out, and had started that afternoon for Rentworth. 
 Harrill therefore calculated upon having this troop, and 
 perhaps a detachment of infantry into the bargain, sooner 
 or later at their heels. 
 
 The rioters had got out of the to^vn, and started 
 for the moor, making a slight detom- towards the mines 
 in order to deceive the military, three-quarters of an 
 hour before the first detachment of troops entered Rent- 
 worth. They were, therefore, considerably in advance 
 of Nugent and his troop. Nevertheless, they were on 
 foot, and weU knew that every minute must lessen the 
 distance between them and their mounted pursuers. 
 Harrill therefore calculated upon drawdng off the atten- 
 tion of the yeomanry, and especially of Nugent, from 
 the real object of the mob's animosity which was Beau- 
 mont-house, by setting the Manor Farm ricks and hay 
 mows in a blaze. He judged the yeomanry would 
 at once decide that the whole mob were ravaging the 
 farm, and so turn off in that direction the moment they 
 beheld so great a conflagration in the distance. Leaving 
 the navvie in the helmet to lead on the bulk of the mul- 
 titude, about two hundred in number, HarriU therefore
 
 236 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 went off with forty or fifty fellows along tlie road wMcli 
 led direct to the Manor Farm. 
 
 The mob were to proceed more leisurely in order to 
 give time to Harrill to rejoin them, which he hoped to 
 do in three-quarters of an hour by pushing across the 
 country by a short cut from the Manor Farm. Weston 
 was still carried along with the throng of men, some of 
 whom were half drunk, and all in a reckless and despe- 
 rate mood. Amidst the clamour and shouting, he could 
 not get a hearing, but was only greeted with yells of 
 " The Doctor for ever ! " and clasped in the unsavoury 
 embraces of those nearest to him. He could not easily 
 extricate himself from such a disorderly procession ex- 
 cept at the risk of being flung down, or of falling again 
 into the ditch. He was now on his legs, but his com- 
 panions occasionally took his arm on either side, and 
 dragged him along between them. 
 
 As, however, they neared the village of Okenham, the 
 foremost of the multitude seemed to slacken their pace, 
 and the banner with the skull and cross-bones fell 
 gradually to the rear. The chief leaders were in loud 
 altercation as to what was to be done when they reached 
 Beaumont-house. Drink was the first thing desired by 
 the tired and thirsty mob. Some, however, were cool- 
 headed enough to determine that a good purseful of gold,
 
 THE RIOTEES CROSS THE MOOR. 237 
 
 or, in default of gold, plenty of solid silver plate, should 
 be handed out by old Usherwood, or they would have 
 his house about his ears. A few had more desperate 
 designs in view. They meditated a regular assault upon 
 the mansion, and anticipated plundering and ravaging it 
 from top to bottom. A large number, however, were of 
 quite a different stamp, and had no malicious object in 
 view ; nay, would have shrunk from any deliberate act 
 of cruelty or dishonesty. All they intended was to make 
 a demonstration to fi-ighten the railway directors whom 
 they regarded as downright thieves, into doing justice 
 by those in their employ. 
 
 For it is rare that outbreaks of this kind take place 
 without strong provocation, and often and often the chief 
 culprits are those who have goaded the working classes 
 by repeated acts of injustice or cruelty into a state of 
 frenzy that disables them from knowing right from 
 wrong, and lays them open to the influence of selfish 
 and desifjnino; men. 
 
 At this juncture Weston took the opportunity, un- 
 observed, to escape across an adjoining field, nor did he 
 stop nmning until he had put a considerable distance 
 between himself and the riotous assemblage in the Rent- 
 worth road. He paused at last, however, and looked 
 about him, as if to make sure of his whereabouts.
 
 238 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 '^ All ! there is tlie lane leading to Eastwood two fields 
 off. I know it by the crooked pollard ash. Then beyond 
 is the hill which stretches away towards Clawthorp. 
 Clawthorp," he repeated — " Clawthorp, and at Claw- 
 thorp is the lunatic asylum. Would I had never seen 
 it ! But all is over now. She is dead — dead, and buried! 
 And I am here — wretched and despised — dogged and 
 persecuted by Harrill — obliged to submit, yet loath- 
 ing him from the bottom of my soul. If it were 
 not for Lucy, I could envy that poor lady, first smitten 
 by madness then passing from madness to death ! But 
 I must live to watch over and comfort Lucy, come what 
 will. Even if I am disgraced, we can fly to Australia — 
 that is, if she would but get stronger — would but get 
 stronger. But I must not waste time. I must try to 
 thwart that scoundrel Harrill. Fool that I was, to think 
 that my gibberisli could influence that mob ! Upon my 
 word, I have had a bit of a lesson ! " And he gazed rue- 
 fully at his muddy and dripping garments. " I must 
 run, if it is but to keep myself warm. Let me see. 
 There is Colonel Clair. He is a good plucky fellow. 
 The yeomanry will be up before nightfall, that's 
 sure. All we want is to gain time. Ill cross the 
 river by the mill-dam, and be over to Colonel Clair's 
 in no time. I think he'll help us. But if Harrill
 
 THE RIOTERS CROSS THE MOOR. 239 
 
 hears of it, I am as good as ruined. Well, I'll risk 
 it. So here goes ! " 
 
 And Weston pushed forwards across the fields in the 
 direction of Eastwood Lane. 
 
 We must now, however, return to Beaumont-house. 
 Here, as we have stated, every thing was in commotion. 
 Miss Beverley had just returned, and, finding no one 
 would undertake the task of communicating to Lady 
 Maud the alarming intelligence from Kentworth, de- 
 termined to undertake this unpleasant duty herself, 
 and had run up-stairs accordingly. The clatter of 
 tongues and general disturbance was of course mostly 
 confined to the servants' part of the house, and Lovell 
 had been cjuietly sitting in the drawing-room, reading a 
 new Quarterly, that contained an ecclesiastical article 
 painfidly interesting to him, in blissful ignorance of 
 the excitement prevailing in the household. At length, 
 however, the servants, who, we have said, were busy 
 closing shutters and outside blinds, reached the drawing- 
 room windows, and, standing on the lawn outside, com- 
 menced closing the jalousies or outside shutters, igno- 
 rant that any one was sitting in the room. They did 
 so gently, for fear of disturbing the sick gentleman 
 above, and Lovell heard them not; but the room, as each 
 shutter was closed, becoming darker and darker, he
 
 240 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 began to conclude tliat night was setting in fast. So, 
 closing his book, he rose from his chair, and suddenly 
 perceived what the servants were about. On asking 
 what was the matter they breathlessly told him, both 
 speaking together, the news of the approach of the 
 rioters, just brought to the house. At that moment 
 Lady Maud rushed down-stairs followed by Miss 
 Beverley, and Lovell heard her addressing the ser- 
 vants in the hall in a voice tremulous with emotion. 
 He hastened in the same direction, and was met by 
 Lady Maud at the doorway in a state of the deepest 
 anxiety and distress. 
 
 "Mr. Lovell, dear sir, can you help us? Is there 
 any thing to be done ? Can you advise us ? " 
 
 "How many are the rioters, and whereabouts are 
 they ? " asked Lovell. 
 
 "They must be within three miles of us — there 
 are hundreds of them — some say thousands — and 
 they are bound for this house ! There is no doubt 
 of it!" 
 
 " But are you sure, Lady Maud — are you sure ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes — every body says so. There is no doubt 
 of it. My poor husband's connection with the Kailway 
 has exposed him to the hatred of the rioters. They 
 think that he, poor man, is one of those who have
 
 THE RIOTEES CROSS THE MOOR. 241 
 
 injured them, whereas hs is a fello^.Y-victim with them- 
 selves." 
 
 " How many men have you on the premises ? " Lovell 
 went on to inquire hastily ; " and what arms have you ? 
 A few resolute fellows, well armed, can keep hundreds 
 at bay." 
 
 " Arms ? men ? " cried Lady Maud. '•' The first shot 
 fired will be death to my husband. Pei-fect quiet is the 
 sole means of saving his life. If the mob merely stand 
 and shout Ydthout lifting a little finger against the house, 
 it is enough — it will do — ^it ^vill kill him — kill him, 
 ]Mr. Lovell I " she said, seizing his arm firmly. 
 
 Lovell was indeed staoro:ered. 
 
 DO 
 
 "Have you spread the alarm? Have you sent to 
 Okenham ? " 
 
 " People have been sent in various directions. We 
 expect the yeomamy before^ night. It is our sole 
 hope." 
 
 Lady Maud walked to and fro hastily, and without 
 that soft leisurely grace usually visible in her move- 
 ments. She was no longer a fine lady gliding swan-hke 
 through the shallows of fashionable life. She was an 
 anxious, grief-stricken woman, struggling vdtli danger 
 and calamity. She clenched her little hand with energy, 
 and exclaimed — 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 ^' If I were a man, I would meet those fellows face to 
 face in the high-road, and tell them the plain facts of 
 the case. Then, if they still persisted, I would shoot 
 the foremost dead, and let the rest kill me and all I love 
 afterwards !" 
 
 "Lady Maud,*' said Lovell taking her hand, ''be calm. 
 I will do my best to help you. Be calm, and trust 
 in God." 
 
 " His wrath is gone out against me," replied Lady 
 Maud, bitterly. 
 
 " But in wrath he remembers mercy. He desires to 
 draw you to him. Submit to his w^ill in faith. Seek 
 huu, Lady Maud, in prayer. Meanwhile, I will do my 
 best to save those you love from injury." 
 
 Lady Maud pressed his hand almost mth a feeling of 
 affection, and retained it for a moment. But it was 
 a time for action ; and Lovell, after another word or 
 two of encouragement, and without listening to his 
 companion's expressions of anxiety about his personal 
 safety, hastened from the room, and desired two or 
 three of the men-servants and others about the place 
 upon whom he thought he could depend, to meet 
 him on the lawn in front of the house. He himself 
 w^ent thither immediately, and, standing upon the 
 higher ground, carefully and thoughtfully — yet as
 
 THE RIOTERS CROSS THE MOOR. 243 
 
 rapidly as he could— surveyed the country immedi- 
 ately in front of Beaumont-house, between the park 
 and the wide marshy plain of which we have abeady 
 spoken.
 
 244 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE, 
 
 About a couple of hundred yards from the lodge lead- 
 ing into the park of Beaumont-house, wound a small 
 stream along the valley slowly and sluggishly except when 
 swelled by autumn rains or by winter snow; for at such 
 times it was both rapid and deep, dangerous indeed 
 even for a good swimmer to attempt to ford. Now, the 
 main road from Rentworth crossed tliis stream by 
 means of a small narrow bridge, and it immediately 
 struck LoveU, that if the mob were advancing to- 
 wards Beaumont-house along this road, here was 
 the point at which a stand should be made ; for ex- 
 cept at this bridge there was no possibility of crossing 
 the stream for nearly a quarter of a mile on either 
 side, and even at those points the means of transit was 
 a simple plank of rough elm, w*hich a couple of 
 men could displace and draw over to the Beaumont 
 side of the river. There had been, it should be premised, 
 much rain during the last fortnight, and the river rushed
 
 DEFEXCE OF BEA"C:MOXT-HOrSE. 245 
 
 brimming fall between its steep and slippery banks, 
 affording an effectual barrier to man or beast who should 
 attempt to ford it. 
 
 Without wasting much time in consultation — for time 
 was precious — LoveU, whose plan was at once and warm- 
 ly approved by John and one or two of the bettermost 
 class of labourers about the premises, immediately col- 
 lected all the able-bodied men he could find in the 
 immediate vicinity of the house, and gave them their 
 instructions as clearly and emphatically as he could. 
 
 The Eeverend Augustine Smithers, late feUow of Oriel, 
 would have been rather amazed to see with what promp- 
 titude and good sense, Lovell, now left to his own 
 resources, or as it is called his own " mother wit," dealt 
 with the difiicidties confronting him. The Reverend 
 Augustine Smithers, we say, would have been amazed, 
 and, we are strongly inclined to believe, would have 
 found out that his fancied superiority to LoveU was a 
 delusion, and the sooner it was dissipated the better 
 would it be for both of them. 
 
 Lovell had noticed in the wood-yard behind Beau- 
 mont-house a waggon of fresh cut thorns, brought in 
 for the purpose of stopping certain gaps in the park 
 fence, which had not yet, in consequence of the damp 
 weather, been hauled out into the park. This waggon
 
 246 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Lovell desired John to harness liis horses to, and haul 
 to the little bridge of which we have just spoken. He 
 himself at once started for the bridge accompanied by 
 a dozen or more labourers, some of whom carried iron 
 bars and pick-axes, whilst others were provided ^ith 
 stout ash sticks and strong stakes. Arriving at the 
 bridge. Lovell's first cai-e was to du'ect the men to heave 
 a portion of the parapet into the river. Then, as soon 
 as the waggon arrived, the thorns were pitched out in a 
 large heap at the fiuiiher end of the bridge, and propped 
 up and fastened into a soHd mass by stakes driven 
 into the gound. The whole being further strengthened 
 by a few lengths of wire for fencing purposes, twisted 
 round and round it in every direction. The waggon was 
 next drawn across the nearer end of the bridge and 
 upset. Whilst against it was piled a quantity of tiiri 
 recently cut from the roadside. This formed a pretty 
 safe parapet to defend Lovell and his party not merely 
 from lighter missiles, such as stones and pebbles, but 
 from gun or pistol shot, should such be discharged at 
 theuL 
 
 It required half an hour's strenuous exertion to pre- 
 pare this new species of barricade, but the men worked 
 with a will. Lovell inspired them all with energy. 
 
 He could not but doubt, as he noticed the eager
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE. 247 
 
 promptitude with which the men about him caught at 
 all he said, and comprehended the earnest straightfor- 
 ward words, whether of direction or of encouragement 
 that he uttered from time to time — he could not but 
 doubt whether the Keverend Augustine Smithers was 
 quite right in urging him never to put much emotion into 
 his sermon, nor seek to stimulate and rouse so much as 
 to cahnly edify and soberly instruct ; keeping a level 
 tone and a level style in harmony with the liturgy which 
 he had just been intoning. '' Certainly I want men to 
 think about their souls — to turn away from sin, and to 
 seek to serve God and their fellow-creatures, just as 
 much as I want to induce these labourers to do tlie 
 work we have now in hand. Certainly this is so. 
 Therefore, why should I not speak right at my congre- 
 gation, aim straight at them, just as I address the work- 
 men round me ? " 
 
 Lovell, highly satisfied Avith his essay in the art 
 of extempore fortification, was just sending a mes- 
 senger back to Beaumont-house to tell Lady Maud and 
 the ladies to take heart, for he fully expected to keep 
 the mob at bay until the yeomanry who could not 
 be far off should come to their aid, w^hen he heard the 
 sound of a carriage passing rapidly along the high-road 
 to Westerbom^ne, tliat crossed the Eentworth road at
 
 248 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 right angles on the Beaumont-house side of the bridge. 
 Turning, he noticed that the carriage was Sir Eliot 
 Prichard's. It stopped, and that worthy knight alight- 
 ing, hastily came towards him, speaking rather out of 
 breath. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, Mr. Lovell. Have heard strange 
 stories as I passed the last turnpike in my way from 
 Eastwood station. You know I've been in town for a few 
 days. Only returned this morning. Find there have 
 been riots — railway riots, and likely to be more — and 
 likely to be more. So I am bound for home. Every 
 magistrate you see should be at his post, Mr. Lovell — at 
 his post where he can be found when wanted. But what 
 in the w^orld are you doing here, Mr. Lovell ? " The last 
 question was uttered as he came close up to Lovell, and 
 had a full view of the thorns and the parapet. 
 
 *^The mob are coming this way," replied Lovell 
 quietly. " They want to burn Usherwood's house be- 
 cause he's a director, and we mean to stop them." 
 
 '^ Then I must be off home ! " rejoined Sir Eliot with 
 renewed energy. " I must be at my post — at my post 
 where I can be found when wanted. I must be off 
 home ! " He paused as he was in the act of turning, and 
 lowering his voice, added — "I'm e^itremely concerned 
 to hear this about Usherwood."
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE. 24.9 
 
 " His illness ? Yes," rejoined Lovell. 
 
 "No, no, no! Illness is illness, and can't be helped. 
 I mean his losses in this unfortunate Hne, Mr. Lovell — 
 his losses ! You have heard of them, of course ? " 
 
 Lovell hastily assented, for he began to think the 
 knight was a dreadful bore at such a moment. 
 
 '' You \\tI1 see Lady Maud by and bye ? " continued 
 Sir Ehot. 
 
 *' Perhaps I may." 
 
 " Then be so kind as to give her this little note, please. 
 Many thanks, Mr. Lovell." 
 
 Lovell took the note, half-unconsciously, looking 
 steadfastly down the Rentworth road, that at some 
 distance off was on a sudden shrouded in a cloud of 
 dust. 
 
 " Here they are ! " cried Lovell. 
 
 " Here they are ! " shouted the men. 
 
 " What, the rioters ? " exclaimed Sir Ehot. " Then I 
 must lose no time. I must be at my post — at my post 
 where I can be found ! Stand firm, Mr. Lovell — stand 
 firm I If I m.eet the Westerboume constable I mil send 
 him along to help you ; but I fear being a baker he'll be 
 detained, for to-day is baking day." And Sir Eliot 
 gpranor into his carriao;e and drove off home — " to his 
 post!"
 
 250 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 Lovell drew up liis men and showed a bold front to 
 tlie advancing rioters, wlio, shouting and yelling, came 
 pressing onwards, a long straggling multitude waving 
 their banners, now and then clashing their weapons 
 together, now and then firing off a pistol or gun. 
 
 As they caught sight of the mansion, standing plea- 
 santly on a slope of grassy lawn, with timber behind it 
 and on either side, they seemed to gain redoubled vigour ; 
 and, closing up into a more compact body, advanced with 
 less outward demonstration of mischief, but with plenty 
 of desperate resolution in their hearts. No sooner, how- 
 ever, had they approached within a moderate distance 
 of the bridge, which they evidently eyed with some mis- 
 giving and perplexity, than LoveU shouted to them — 
 " Hold hard, or my men will fire ! " 
 
 This menace, uttered in a clear determined voice, 
 seemed to have a considerable eifect. The multitude 
 hung back, and the leaders commenced an animated 
 conference. LoveU, considering this was a good moment 
 for attempting a parley, now sprang up on the waggon, 
 and asked to be heard for a few minutes. 
 
 There was a confused jabber of many voices in reply. 
 Some one cried out "Halloo! Here's the parson!" 
 Others shouted in tones of mock reverence, " Silence I 
 Don't you see he's going to preach a sermon? " " Order,
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE. 251 
 
 order!" cried several; "Where's the beadle?" "Fire away, 
 parson!" "Take a pinch of snuff, your honour, afore 
 you begin," asked a youth who squinted frightfully, 
 throwing a handful of gravel at Lovell's head, which 
 excited much applause, and a pretence of great indigna- 
 tion in the man with the tin pot on his head, who flung 
 his helmet at the boy, shouting, " You desperate villain, 
 how dare you insult his grace the archbishop ?" Amidst 
 this confusion and noisy insolence, Lovell for a few 
 moments vainly attempted to gain a hearing. He 
 waited patiently, however, until the mob began to 
 get tired, and the noise somewhat subsided. Then, 
 taking advantage of a moment's pause, and in a loud 
 voice he said, "Will you let me speak a very few 
 words to you? Just hear me for a few minutes. 
 That's all I ask.'^ " Well," cried one or two, " go a-head 
 then. Only cut it short ! " Lovell managed to make 
 himself heard. He spoke with so much earnestness, 
 that the men were a little overawed and their attention 
 aAvakened against their will. 
 
 "I don't know," said Lovell, "what you want here. 
 You may have been very ill used. Of that I am no 
 judge ; but all I wish to teU you is this : The poor 
 gentleman to whom that house belongs was taken 
 iU tliis morning, and is lying on his back in danger
 
 252 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 of his life. His only cliance of recovery is to be kept 
 quiet. If you come shouting round the house: if you 
 compel the armed men and servants to fire upon you, 
 filling the place with tumult — you will kill the sick man, 
 as surely as if you cut his throat ! " The men shouted, 
 " A good riddance, too ! Ain't he a director? Hasn't he 
 picked our pockets in cold blood, the scurvy old knave?" 
 
 " Believe me," cried Lovell — " believe me, he is more 
 a loser from the Railroad Company than you are. 
 I am told he is a ruined man. At all events if you 
 attack the house he will be a murdered man. And 
 what good will that do you, my friends? He has a 
 wife and family as many of you have. Think of that 
 now. You wouldn't hurt women and children — would 
 you now, my men? I know you wouldn't." 
 
 " Parson, that's gammon ! " interrupted the man with 
 the helmet, who was afraid his companions might be 
 softened by this appeal. " What cash have you got for 
 us? Come, fork out ! " 
 
 This was received with loud shouts of applause. 
 Lovell could only assure them that Usherwood had lost 
 thousands by the railway, and had no money to spare. But 
 he would engage if they dispersed quietly, that Usher- 
 w^ood, within twenty-four hours, should pay the sum of 
 one Iiundred pounds into the hands of any one they
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMOXT-HOUSE. 253 
 
 chose to name, to be dlyided amongst the miners and 
 navigators at Rentworth. And again he urged them to 
 have compassion on the family, as well as on the sick man 
 himself, assurmg them they should not cross the bridge 
 without a tough fight for it. Unfortunately the mob, many 
 of whom were excited by liquor, knew that Harrlll could 
 not be far oft. The black smoke from the burning ricks at 
 the Manor-house Farm rose high in the air, and he 
 was to make straight for Beaumont-house as soon as he 
 had accomplished his purpose at the farm. This em- 
 boldened the more daring and mischievous spirits 
 amongst them, and enabled them to over-ride the better 
 feelings gaining ground amongst tlie bidk of the multi- 
 tude. They knew that Harrill, with his band of resolute 
 followers, would speedily settle the question of crossing 
 the bridge, and the rest was easy enough. Accordingly, 
 they suddenly let fly a shower of stones at Lovell 
 and his party. Wliilst others creeping along the 
 ditches on each side of the road, reconnoitred the strength 
 of Loveli's position, and the number of his followers. 
 
 Apparently, the mob were reassured by the report 
 given ; for they commenced a methodical bombard- 
 ment with stones and pebbles, seldom however hit- 
 ting any of the defenders of the bridge ; and two or 
 three times firing ofiT a musket at any one who exposed
 
 254 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 too mucli of his head and slioulders above the embank- 
 ment of turf across the road. Although, therefore, no 
 injury of any consequence was mfllcted, there was quite 
 enough risk incurred by Lovell's party to keep their 
 attention alive. Emboldened by no firearms being dis- 
 charged, the mob now at a given signal suddenly made 
 a rush at the bridge. Lovell, to keep his word, fired 
 the guns which he kept under his own control over the 
 heads of the multitude. The only effect was to alarm 
 the hindmost of them, who shrank back looking at each 
 other to see if any one was hurt. This was not whoUy 
 without advantage to Lovell ; for the consequence was 
 that tlie front ranks of the mob were not driven on with 
 the force and impetuosity resulting from pressm^e from 
 behind, but came upon the fence opposed to them with 
 only their own individual vigour. 
 
 Entangled amidst the thorns, with hands and faces 
 scratched and lacerated, they had scarcely made any im- 
 pression upon the barrier before them, when Lovell's 
 men, springing over the turf and over the waggon, fell 
 upon their assailants with the long ash staves with which 
 Lovell had armed them, and, show^ering upon them a 
 regular storm of blows, drove them, bruised and wound- 
 ed, back towards the main body of the mob, who uttered 
 a prolonged howd of rage and disappointment. Lovell's
 
 DEFE^X•E OF BEAUMOXT-HOUSE. 255 
 
 people had just retreated behind their turf embankment, 
 ^vhen another kind of shout was raised by the mob, 
 which Lovell did not like. It was a cry of savage de- 
 light and exultation. A moment after, seeing their 
 countenances all turned in one direction, Loyell looked 
 round and beheld, with no little anxiety and alarm, a 
 number of men, evidently part of the rioters, hurrying 
 along the road leading from Okenham valley, and, 
 consequently, about to take Lovell's httle intrenchment 
 in the rear. 
 
 Xow, it is a most uncomfortable sensation being taken 
 in flank, or attacked in the rear, when you are ah'eady 
 fully occupied with an enemy in your front. It tries 
 the nerves of the bravest men ; and it certainly sent 
 dismay through the ranks of Lovell's small band of 
 followers. 
 
 ^' For heaven's sake, load the guns, sir I " cried John. 
 " And give 'em a dose of cold shot, or we are done for I " 
 
 The detachment of rioters in the rear was no other 
 than Harrill and his party, who, having fired Xugent's 
 ricks, vrere now hastening, as they supposed, to join in 
 the plunder of Beaumont-house. These new-comers 
 were still a couple of hundred yards off, and John's ad- 
 vice could scarcely be rejected vith common prudence. 
 But Lovell insisted in retaining charge of the guns,
 
 256 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 in order that no firing should take place except at 
 the last extremity, as a matter of simple self-defence. 
 The mob on the further side of the bridge rent tiie air 
 with shouts that were exultingly answered by tl>,e 
 thirty or forty men hastening towards the scene of 
 action, headed by Harrill. 
 
 " They are too many for us!" exclaimed Lovell. " It 
 will be useless waste of blood, attempting to hold the 
 bridge longer. We must fall back upon the house, and 
 try to make a stand at the entrance gate of the lawn." 
 
 Lo veil's men had long before come to the same con- 
 clusion, and they started at a pretty sharp pace from 
 the bridge towards a private door which led into the 
 park, in a direction opposite to that Harrill was pursu- 
 ing. The rioters on the other side of the bridge im- 
 mediately made a rush at the thorns, but it was still no 
 very pleasant matter to break their way through, and their 
 very numbers impeded and embarrassed them. Whilst 
 at that moment the party headed by HarriU came to 
 a dead stop about thirty yards from the lodge. Some 
 of Lovell's men exclaimed — " Can it be the soldiers?" 
 No ! the men were all staring at the lodge. What 
 held them in check? Out of an open window pro- 
 truded the long old-fashioned barrel of a gun, pointed 
 in a menacing manner at the advancing detachment of
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE. 257 
 
 rioters. Certainly, there was only one gun against 
 thirty men, but then each of the men said to himself, 
 *' Shall I be the man shot?" Therefore, for a few 
 seconds, every one faltered and hung back. But Har- 
 rill cautiously approached the lodge-window, keeping 
 to one side of the road, and then, making a rush, 
 discovered it was merely old Andrew's rusty gun 
 vrithout a lock that had been propped up at the win- 
 dow by the owner previous to his prudent retreat some 
 two hours before. On came the men with a yell, and 
 broke at once through the lodge-gates into the park, 
 whilst, about the same time, many of the mob at the 
 bridge having forced their way through the thorns, ran, 
 shouting wildly, in the same direction. 
 
 Lovell hastened with his party up the private path 
 leading to the la^Ti gate, but his mind now misgave him. 
 Unless he could parley again with the rioters, all was lost. 
 
 But just then, as the mob began to spread them- 
 selves over the park, directing their course towards the 
 mansion that rose invitingly on the platform of lawn 
 a few hundred yards distant — just then Lovell's small 
 party were joined by an unexpected reinforcement, in 
 the shape of Colonel Clair and about a dozen or so 
 of active men, most of them his own servants, whom 
 he had hastly collected. The Colonel and Lovell shook 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 hands with the warmth that springs from a sense of 
 common clanger, and exchanged a few hurried words. 
 It appeared that news of the rioters' approach had 
 been brought to Colonel Clair by a man so covered 
 with black mud from head to foot, that nobody could 
 tell whether he was a stranger or a native of the 
 place. Only he seemed very much in earnest, and the 
 Colonel thought he would start with some men and re- 
 connoitre. On the road ample corroboration was 
 furnished of the truth of the statement, and the party 
 hurried onwards with all speed. 
 
 As soon as the leaders of the mob perceived that the 
 entrance gates of the lawn, as w^eli as tlie sunk fence 
 and low w^all protecting it, were occupied by Lovell and 
 Colonel Clair with a pretty strong party of men ap- 
 parently armed, they were somewhat staggered, and 
 gathering together as thick as bees near the lodge 
 gates, held a brief conference to settle their plan 
 of operations. They then suddenly broke into two- 
 divisions, one of which boldly advanced on the la^vn 
 gates and sunk fence, whilst the other diverged in an 
 oblique direction, evidently for the purpose of attacking 
 the back part of the premises. 
 
 The position of the defenders of the lawn now became 
 rather unpleasant ; and, to make the matter worse, two
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE. 259 
 
 or tliree of the rioters carrying firearms, commenced 
 coolly taking aim and firing at tlie wall and bushes 
 behind which they were screening themselves. Still 
 LoveU would not give up the firearms he had 
 charge of, alleging it would only cause useless blood- 
 shed, and that until the last extremit}^, when the 
 house was actually attacked, they would not be justi- 
 fied in fii'ino'. Xevertheless, Colonel Clair's 2;ame- 
 keeper, whose feelings suddenly carried him away, let 
 flv his double-barrelled o-un rio-ht amongst the more 
 
 *■ coo 
 
 advanced of the rioters, and, wounding two or three of 
 them about the legs, considerably checked the ardour 
 of those in front. Stdl they gauied ground, pushing 
 on in scattered parties, whilst the other division of as- 
 sailants rapidly neared the back part of Beaumont- 
 house. It was time to fall back. Lovell and Colonel 
 Clah both exclaimed simidtaneously — 
 
 " The house ! The house ! Make for the house ! " 
 The whole party rose at once and made a rush for 
 the house, whilst the shots fii'ed by the rioters whizzed 
 passed them, and fierce yells rang in their ears. 
 
 Harrill, maddened by liquor which he had procured 
 as he came through the callage, and brandishing a crow- 
 bar, rushed fonvards and biu-st through the lawn gates, 
 followed by the most reckless of his companions.
 
 260 BELOW THE SUKFACE. 
 
 At that instant a cry arose simultaneously from the 
 house and from the rearmost of the rioters, — "The 
 soldiers I the soldiers ! " 
 
 All eyes were turned towards the Rentworth Koad. 
 Evening was far advanced; but the large masses of 
 clouds in the eastern part of the sky, floating at a high 
 elevation, gleamed white and silvery in the rays of the 
 now descended sun, and shed a soft light over the broad 
 plains beneath. Along the straight and level road 
 could be seen a cloud of dust advancing, and every now 
 and then the glitter of polished steel. As they gazed, 
 they recognised more and more distinctly the dark 
 forms of men and horses, and heard the sound of hoofs 
 re-echoing like distant thunder along the hollow road. 
 
 A sudden panic seized the rioters. They fled in all 
 directions. The park was strewed with flags, bludgeons, 
 weapons of every description. Some of the men rushed 
 towards the lodge gates, but many more ran for the 
 park palings and scrambled over as well as they could; 
 whilst others, more wary, made for the hill above Beau- 
 mont-house, hoping to escape amongst the woods and 
 plantations. HarriU, enraged, would have made a stand 
 even though the yeomanry were in sight, but his fol- 
 lowers would not rally. They fled to right and left. 
 The party of servants and labourers, \\'ho with Colo-
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE. 261 
 
 nel Clair and Lovell had been defending the entrance to 
 the lawn, now sallied forth and endeayoured to evertake 
 and capture some of the hindmost of the flying rioters. 
 John, who had seized up one of the fowling-pieces at 
 the moment of the rush made by his party towards the 
 hou?e, set off in the direction of the park palings at 
 a steady trot carrj^ing the gun on his shoulder. As he 
 crossed the drive he met Lovell, pale and without his 
 hat, having been knocked down whilst making for the 
 house by a stone flung from the mob, and sHghtly 
 stunned. He had laid down, however, behind a clump 
 of shrubs on the lawn for two or three minutes, and 
 was tolerably himself again. 
 
 " John," he cried, " where are you off to ? " 
 
 John, toucliing his hat, and di'opping from a trot into 
 a walk, answered — 
 
 " I'm just getting out of hearing of master, sir, so as 
 not to disturb him, and then won't I have a pop at some 
 of them rascals ! " And he looked to see if the cap of 
 his gun was all right. 
 
 " Nonsense, John ; let them run ! The sooner they 
 are out of sisrht the better." 
 
 ^'I'll give 'em a fair start, sir. Won't shoot 'em 
 standing, sir. Won't, indeed. Should Hke to mark one 
 on 'em, sir ! " he added, looking wistfully at the man
 
 2Q2 BELOW THE SUKFACE. 
 
 who wore the tin-pot, but who had just flung it away 
 and was trying to scale the paHngs. " Just one on 'em, 
 sir!" 
 
 " Don't you mark your hands, John, mth a fellow 
 creature's blood. You will not feel the happier for it 
 when the bustle is all over, I can tell you ; " and Lovell 
 took away the gun, and added, '' Now look sharp, and 
 get out the horses. We must clear the bridge. The 
 yeomanry are brought to a stand-still. Get out the 
 horses to haul away the waggon ; and take some of the 
 men along with you." 
 
 This was true enough, and so far was an advantage 
 to the mob; very few of whom were in consequence 
 taken prisoners. Harrill, we may as well mention, es- 
 caped over the hills ; and, it was soon currently reported, 
 
 had got clear away to S shire, his native county. At 
 
 all events, he eluded his pursuers, and, having taken 
 refuge amongst his old haunts, all attempts to track him 
 and apprehend him, proved ineffectual. We shall not 
 again encounter Harrill, until, in an evil hour for him, 
 he will aofain revisit the neio:hbourhood of the Manor- 
 house Farm. 
 
 Meanwhile, as Lovell had anticipated, the yeomanry 
 were brought up short by the substantial barricade at 
 Okenham Bridge. The thorns had been mostly pitched
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMOXT-HOUSE. 263 
 
 into the river, and the stakes were easily removed ; but 
 it wa3 not so easy to shift the waggon, jammed as it was 
 between the parapets of the bridge, with a solid mass of 
 turf pUed against it. The yeomanry, however, dis- 
 mounted, and being aided by John with a few of 
 the laboiu-ers, soon cleared the passage, and then 
 remounting, clattered along the road towards the lodge 
 gates. Here they halted, and were despatched by 
 Xugent in different directions in pursuit of the riot- 
 ers. He himself, with one or two of his men, turned 
 towards Beaumont-house, anxious to ascertain how 
 matters fared there. About the same moment a 
 messenger reached him from the [Manor Farm, with 
 the satisfactory intelligence that the fire was in a 
 fair way of being got under, thauks to the wind having 
 opportunely shifted. Whilst the men were at work 
 clearing the bridge, Lovell remembered the note Sir 
 Ehot Prichard had given him for Lady Maud, and 
 walked up to the house as fast as the exhaustion and 
 giddiness consequent on his hard day's work and the 
 bruises he had received in the melee, permitted. 
 
 At Beaumont-house alarm and agony of mind had 
 given place to gratitude and joy. Lady Maud, Ger- 
 trude, all the inmates of the house, except the sick man 
 who lay in drowsy half-consciousness in his luxurious bed-
 
 264 BELOW THE SUKFACE. 
 
 chamber, had watched the gradual approach of the riot- 
 ers ; their sudden check at the bridge which was visible 
 from the upper windows ; their parley with Lovell ; their 
 onslausrht on the barricade and the successful defence of 
 it by Lovell's party. After this, there had been some 
 minutes' suspense, for HaiTill's arrival on the scene could 
 not be seen from the house. Only they had heard shouts 
 and yells of seeming triumph and exultation. Then 
 the wild influx of the multitude into the park, spread 
 a terrible panic through the household. Next came 
 the stand made by Lovell aided by Colonel Clair and 
 his men at the lawn gates and the sunk fence, the ex- 
 citing scene that followed, and finally the long and 
 ardently-desired appearance of the soldieiy sweeping 
 aloDg the distant highway. With pale faces, grasping 
 each others' hands, the women stood at different windows 
 in the upper story of the house watching all that passed, 
 but scarce uttering a word save hasty ejaculations of 
 terror, surprise, or hope. No sooner had the yeomanry 
 come fairly in sight, than there was a simultaneous cry 
 of joy from all the assemblage. Some burst into tears. 
 Some shook each other's hands for several minutes -with- 
 out stopping. Miss Beverley found herself embracing 
 the under housemaid. Lady Maud hurried to her hus- 
 band's room, followed by Gertrude, and, opening the
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE. 265 
 
 door, exclaimed to the surgeon who was sitting by the 
 sick man's side, ^' Saved ! The yeomanry are in sight ! " 
 Mr. Grierson's face expanded into a perfectly panto- 
 mimic expression of hilianty. As for ]SIr. Usher- 
 wood, the gradually-augmenting tumult did not appear 
 to have yet reached his ear. He had merely murmured 
 when an unusually loud shout or the distant report of 
 a gun penetrated the closed shutters and curtains of the 
 apartment, a few words about the train starting and the 
 whistle of the engine, and on swaUomng a dose of 
 physic exclaimed somewhat authoritatively, " Pass the 
 bottle ! " Otherwise he had been tolerably composed and 
 tranquil, and in ^Ir. Grierson's opinion was progressing 
 favourably towards recovery. The mother and daughter 
 then hastened to the schoolroom to see after Agatha 
 and Jessie, who had been secluded there in a state of 
 fear and trembhng most of this eventful day. As for 
 the rest of the household, they soon recovered their 
 equanimity. Even Lucy Weston, who had been in great 
 trouble about her brother, fearing that what with rioters, 
 and what with yeomanry, he had come to some terrible 
 end, was much reassured by the information that he had 
 been recognised by some of Colonel Clair's people, co- 
 vered indeed with mud, but othenvise quite safe and 
 sound. !Mrs. Paine, having passed several hours con-
 
 266 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 cealed under a four-post bed, emerged cautiously about 
 midnight, with ber dress in some disorder, and a smel- 
 ling-bottle in each hand. ^Mrs. Millet, having re- 
 cently risen from the bench where she had been sitting 
 all day and was in consequence stiff about the limbs, 
 moved about like a petrifaction partially reanimated, 
 occasionally exclaiming with a vacant look, '' Will any 
 body tell me what I am to do ? " But by degrees recover- 
 ing herself, proceeded with her work as usual. 
 
 Some anxiety was felt about old Andrew at the lodge, 
 who had totally disappeared and could nowhere be 
 heard of. On tlie evening however of the following day, 
 he was seen walking through the village with very dusty 
 ehoes on his way to the lodge, which he quietly re-en- 
 tered, and commenced putting things to rights — first 
 of all reverentially replacing his gun above the chim- 
 ney-piece. It was surmised by the most competent 
 judges, that he had walked home to his friends some 
 twelve miles off on the very first rumour of the rioters' 
 approach. 
 
 At the entrance-hall Lovell was presently met by 
 Lady Maud and Gertrude, and of course had to endure 
 what to him was a particularly unpleasant process; name- 
 ly, a passionate volley of thanks, interspersed with strong 
 expressions of admiration at his coolness, courage, etc., etc.
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMOXT-HOUSE. 267 
 
 Lovell turned red, held down his head, shuffled his feet to 
 and fro, and, in fact, looked hke some one suddenly detected 
 in an attempt at petty larceny, or other minor de- 
 linquency punishable by law. So, to extricate himself 
 from the distress and embarrassment inflicted on him by 
 the two ladies, he produced Sii Eliot Prichard's note 
 with the rapidity of a government messenger deliver- 
 ing an express. 
 
 Lady Maud glanced at the direction, coloured slightly, 
 opened the note, wliich was a thin sheet of cheap straw 
 paper, and read as follows : — 
 
 " BCKLINGTON HoTEI,, LoNDON. 
 
 " My Dear Lady ^Jaud, — 
 
 " Events have followed each other so rapidly since the 
 day before yesterday, when I penned with much anxiety 
 and a heart agitated by the tenderest emotions, the 
 letter you have no doubt received embodying my 
 sentiments towards your eldest daughter — that the mind 
 grows confused and giddy as it looks back upon the 
 past, and almost questions the fact of its own identity. 
 The sad and runious hoideversement — I may say smash — 
 of the North Eentworth Eailway Company, has been a 
 severe shock to me in many ways. It wounds me deeply 
 to have to say it ; but the pecuniary losses inflicted upon 
 me by that catastrophe, must, I fear, put an impassable
 
 268 BELOW THE SUEFACE. 
 
 bar between me and the object of my tenderest ambi- 
 tion. I am not so selfish, Lady Maud, as to ask you to 
 wed your daughter to a man whose income has been un- 
 fortunately reduced as mine has been. I, at once and 
 without reservation, though with an aching heart, retract 
 the offer I have made for your daughter's hand. May 
 she be happy! May she be as happy as she deserves to 
 be! 3fore than this I cannot say. — I am, dear Lady 
 Maud, most faithfully yours, 
 
 *^ Eliot Peichard." 
 
 " P.S. — Excuse this very indifferent note-paper, but a 
 man of shattered fortune must not be nice in his sta- 
 tionery ." 
 
 Lady Maud's handsome face, as she read these lines, 
 gradually settled into an expression of loathing and con- 
 tempt. Lovell and Gertrude had withdrawni a little, 
 and she said to herself, as she folded up the note and 
 placed it in her bosom, — 
 
 " This is a curiosity. I must take care of it. Shat- 
 tered fortunes ! The contemptible liar ! Mr. Kubbley 
 only the other day told me that Sir Eliot's investment 
 in Kentworth railway stock amounted precisely to two 
 
 thousand pounds ! The plausible, mean-spirited but, 
 
 nonsense — nonsense — this is silly ! "
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT-HOUSE. 269 
 
 And Lady Maud with a smiling face turned to talk 
 to Colonel Clair, and to beg liim to take some refresh- 
 ment in the dining-room, where a repast, consisting of 
 tea and coffee, wine and beer, with plenty of cold meat, 
 had been hastily laid out by the servants of the estab- 
 lishment. 
 
 " And take Mr. Lovell with you, Colonel," said Lady 
 Maud : " I am sure he needs something." 
 
 " He's a fine fellow— a very brave active fellovv', and 
 deserves a medal ! " exclaimed the Colonel, taldno* Lovell 
 once more crimson with embarrassment by the arm, and 
 carrying him off to the dining-room. 
 
 At that instant Nugent rode up to the front door 
 covered with dust, and his horse drenched in white foam. 
 Flinging the reins to one of the troopers who followed 
 him, he dismounted and entered the well-known hall 
 just as Gertrude and her mother were about to quit it. 
 Gertrude blushed scarlet. As for Lady Maud she 
 preserved her self-possession, advanced gracefully to 
 Nugent, took both his hands in hers, and thanked him 
 for the promptitude with which he had come to their 
 aid. Nugent took these demonstrations tranquilly 
 enough, and turned to speak to Gertrude, but she had 
 fled from the room. 
 
 " ^Ir. Nugent," said Lady Maud, drawing him into
 
 270 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 the recess of a large bow window looking upon the lawn, 
 " I know all that has passed between my daughter and 
 yourself." 
 
 " I was on my way, Lady liiaud, to your house this 
 morning, meaning to explain every thing and put myself 
 entirely in your hands, when a despatch reached me 
 calling me to summon my troop, and push at once for 
 Kentw^orth. I hope you believe that I meant to make 
 no concealments. I know that I am by no means such 
 a suitor as you might fairly expect for your daughter. 
 I know that I am every way unworthy." 
 
 '^ Mr. Nugent," said Lady Maud, softly, *^ Gertrude 
 and her parents are the best judges of that part of the 
 question. I will relieve your mind so far as to say that 
 the difficulties in the way of your union with Gertrude 
 are of quite another character." 
 
 "Let me hear them. Lady Maud — let me hear them! 
 I know, I trust, how to submit to disappointment even 
 in a matter so very — very near my heart." 
 
 Lady Maud, lowering her voice almost to a whisper, 
 replied — 
 
 "Mr. Nugent, we have suffered losses from this 
 unfortunate raihvay. I hardly know to what extent 
 yet; but, although I hope for the best, they may be 
 serious."
 
 DEFENCE OF BEAUMOXT-HOUSE. 271 
 
 A flash of satisfaction crossed Nugent's face. He 
 pressed Lady !^Iaud's hand with a cordiahty that was 
 rather painfid to those slender fingers covered wath 
 rings, and exclaimed — 
 
 " Is that all ?— is that really all ? AYhy, Lady ]Maud, 
 what has money to do with my affection — with my love 
 for i»Iiss Usherwood ? Is not my income, in one way or 
 another, more than twelve hundred a year? And is not 
 that enough for Gertrude and myself — ay, and for all of 
 us to Kve upon ? " 
 
 Lady Maud murmm-ed a few more words, and then 
 glided swiftly out of the room in search of her daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 Gertrude, notwithstanding all the harrowing anxieties 
 of the day, had not forgotten her mother's words rela- 
 tive to her attachment to Xugent. She could still recall 
 the tone of pity in which her mother uttered the w^ords, 
 " Poor child !" as if she did not indeed withhold her pity 
 and sympathy, but regarded the idea of theu' union as 
 simply impossible. So she had retired to the drawing- 
 room on Nugent's entrance and was trying to read, but 
 the letter-print danced before her moistened eyes, 
 as we may have seen animalculse whu'ling in a drop of 
 water through the glass of a microscope. Next moment 
 she felt, but scarcely saw, her mother by her side. Lady
 
 272 BELOW THE SURFACE. 
 
 Maud passed her soft arm round her child's neck, and 
 kissing her Hps and her eyes, said — 
 
 " Dearest, do not tremble so ! All is well. Be hap- 
 py." Then, taking her daughter's arm in hers, she led 
 her back to the hall, and, drawing her towards Nugent, 
 placed her hand in his, and with a winning smile said — 
 
 " Take her, Mr. Nugent, and love her dearly, for she 
 deserves it." 
 
 And hastening from the room left them together, and 
 returned to her husband's apartment. On the landing 
 she paused for a second, clasped her hands together, 
 and seemed to be silently asking herself some question, 
 for which she found it difficult to find a satisfactory 
 reply. But it was but for a second, and Lady Maud 
 passed up-stairs with perfect serenity of manner. 
 
 EKD OF VOL. I. 
 
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