Sadlai^ 
 
 L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVER5ITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 ^ gobtl 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 LOST SIR M A S S IN GBE RD," 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON. 
 
 1874. 
 
 {All Rights Rescit'ed.)
 
 ^^3 
 
 i^ 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 IS 
 
 Mtctiomttlv Bttiicnttti 
 
 TO 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES EDLIN.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. "a medical opinion" I 
 
 II. WHAT DUNWICH THOUGHT ABOUT IT 25 
 
 III. A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES 39 
 
 IV. A LOVING FAREWELL 58 
 
 V. IN V/HICH LORD DIRLETON OVERREACHES 
 
 HIMSELF 79 
 
 VI. BALCOMBE 102 
 
 VII. A NEW PROFESSION T16 
 
 VIII. IN WHICH MR. ANGELO HULET IS " UPSET " I37 
 
 IX. IN THE ladies' DRAWING-ROOM 151 
 
 X. JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION 1 73 
 
 XL THE RING AND THE RING GUARD 203 
 
 XII. UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE 223 
 
 XIII. EVY ASKS A FAVOUR 240 
 
 XIV. AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE 256 
 
 XV. CLIFF COTTAGE 274
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A MEDICAL OPINION. 
 
 N the heart of England lies Dun- 
 wlch, loveliest village, not of the 
 plain, but of the hill top. You 
 must climb up from the rich levels where 
 the hop gardens lie, through half a mile of 
 hanorine wood — nature's own refrioferator 
 — ere 3^ou arrive on an August morning 
 such as this, refreshed and cool, in that 
 " haunt of ancient peace " and (what, alas, 
 is more rare) of plenty. For there are no 
 poor at Dunwich — absolutely none. Small 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 as the place Is, it contains two venerable 
 almshouses which absorb the aged and 
 infirm, who having done their life's work^ 
 or failed in doing it (God alone knows 
 why), fold their wrinkled palms, awaiting 
 the Divine summons, and whom we call 
 our surplus population. These dwellings 
 have no affinity to the almshouse of the 
 nation — the workhouse. Except that they 
 are one-storied, they resemble colleges^ 
 each with its green court within it, like a 
 huge emerald in a fair stone setting ; the 
 gray walls are overgrown with moss and 
 lichen. ; even the ivy is cut away wath no 
 remorseless hand, for all things that are 
 old, or have an attachment to what is 
 old, are here held sacred. In Seymours 
 Home, the smaller of the two, the doors 
 have gray stone porches, in which the 
 inmates sit on summer eves, and knit or 
 read, or, since the building commands the 
 valley, look down upon the happy autumn
 
 "^ MEDICAL OPINION." 
 
 fields, and think, or not think (probably 
 only doze and dream), on the days that are 
 no more ; a thoughtful spectacle enough 
 to others at all events. 
 
 Every dwelling on the south and north 
 of straggling Dunwich Street, commands 
 a lovely prospect ; and the houses are 
 happily not contiguous, so that between 
 the gaps, the wayfarer has glimpses of 
 both landscapes, the one, at this time, 
 shining with the gold of harvest, and the 
 green of the hop-crops, the other waving 
 with woodlands as far as eye can reach. 
 Even the windows that give upon the street 
 have a fair outlook, and not only through 
 these gaps aforesaid, for before every house 
 is more or less of garden, and in almost 
 every garden is a tree. It seems as though 
 instead of desolating a village to make a 
 hunting ground, as his fellows too often did, 
 that the feudal lord of Dunwich had per- 
 mitted the village to be built in his own 
 
 I — 2
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 leafy demesne, with the sole proviso that 
 his trees should be spared. 
 
 The great gates of the modern park (it 
 was once a chase) stand close to Seymour's 
 Home, in the very centre of the hamlet, 
 and are open night and day to all comers. 
 Thus without descending from their high- 
 placed Paradise, the happy Dunwich folks 
 can pass from their own doors into a world 
 of verdurous " dip," and upland, with 
 groves of stately oak, and dells of fern, 
 where the couched deer, accustomed to 
 such harmless visitors, scarce lift their 
 branching heads to watch them pass. 
 Here and there, beneath some spreading 
 tree, or on some hillock whence the leafy 
 avenue prolongs itself to one green arbour, 
 and seems to meet at last, are rustic seats 
 '' for whispering lovers made," or at all 
 events such intention is taken for granted, 
 and they are used accordingly^ In place 
 of high blank walls, which the baser Rich
 
 A MEDICAL opinion:' 
 
 too often build about their beauteous homes 
 to bar their fellows' eyes from all fruition 
 of them, and bolted gates with cold uncivil 
 menials to reflect their masters harshness, 
 the lord of Dunwich permits all to share 
 his woodland treasures ; nay, better than 
 those '' great sirs," who, 
 
 " Give up their parks a dozen times a year, 
 To let the people breathe,'' 
 
 he welcomes them the whole year through, 
 as though he held his lands in fee of them. 
 On the whole, then, with their common 
 park, and their fair prospects from their 
 doors, and their almshouses to retire into, 
 if the worst came to the worst with them, 
 one might well suppose that the inhabitants 
 of Dunwich had little cause for complaint ; 
 yet, if so, one would be very much mis- 
 taken. With Mr. Angelo Hulet, for in- 
 stance, a bachelor or widower (it was r : t 
 quite understood which) of some substance, 
 who had been settled in the villaoe these 
 
 o
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 ten years, and had, therefore, some right, 
 he imagined, to speak with authority upon 
 the subject, this very openness of the park 
 was a grievance. 
 
 " I call it a deuced impertinent thing," 
 he would argue, " of my Lord Dirleton, or 
 of any other lord, to offer his patronage in 
 this sort of way. It is only an underhand 
 way of making slaves of the people. He 
 first lays them under an obligation, and 
 then expects to see them on their knees 
 before him ; but he will never catch Angelo 
 Hulet in that position." 
 
 Why " Angelo," none but this inde- 
 pendent gentleman's godfathers and god- 
 mothers (long since dead) could have ex- 
 plained, if even they ; but, as to the 
 " Hulet," he had a great deal of informa- 
 tion to offer. In his little study, as he 
 calls it, a charming apartment opening on 
 a smoothed-shaved lawn, from which three 
 fair counties are visible, as you sit under
 
 ''A MEDICAL opinion:' 
 
 the tall cedar in its centre (from which 
 the house derives its name, the Cedars), 
 there hangs a picture, whereby hangs a 
 tale. It is the representation of a man in 
 a vizor, with a long gray beard, who leans 
 on a headsman's axe. He is standing on 
 a scaffold with the block beside him, and 
 beneath it there is a great crowd of people, 
 chiefly soldiers ; and this scaffold is, so to 
 speak, the proprietor of the picture's " plat- 
 form," whereupon he dilates to an impatient 
 and unsympathizing world upon the death 
 of that perfidious monarch Charles the 
 First, whose head was cut off by William, 
 sergeant in Colonel Hewson's regiment, 
 and founder of the race of Hulet. 
 
 It is not to be supposed, however, that 
 the present descendant of that hero in- 
 herits in any way his truculent character. 
 Mr. Angelo Hulet is the mildest-mannered 
 man that ever scuttled ship of the state in 
 traitorous speech ; a hypochondriac and a
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 valetudinarian. His study contains a book- 
 case stored, not with republican works, but 
 with all the classical literature upon Indi- 
 gestion ; and beneath the book-case is a 
 cupboard, filled with every sovereign cure 
 for the nerves, from "digestive tablets" to 
 prussic acid. At the time of our introduc- 
 tion to him he is a little over sixty years of 
 age, but presents the appearance, possibly 
 from too free an indulgence in those ex- 
 cellent remedies, of a man of seventy. He 
 is tall and spare, with a slight stoop. His 
 face is handsome but deeply lined, and, to 
 a disciple of Lavater, the resolute fixity 
 of jaw contrasts itself curiously with the 
 indecisive expression of the eyes. These 
 are never still, and when you speak to him, 
 instead of concentrating themselves upon 
 your own eyes, they shift and wander as 
 though to escape their gaze. To judge him 
 as dishonest, and afraid to look you in the 
 face, on account of this peculiarity, would
 
 ''A MEDICAL opinion:' 
 
 be, however, to do him a great injustice ; 
 it is only a nervous habit, which he uses 
 with a stranger neither more nor less than 
 with Evy his niece, and the ruler of his 
 comfortable little household. 
 
 Eva Carthew had lost both her parents 
 in a single day. They were on their way 
 from India, chiefly to see the daughter they 
 had sent to England quite a child, and of 
 whom they had heard such glowing ac- 
 counts from time to time from the school- 
 mistress to whom they had confided her, as 
 made their hearts to leap for joy, when, 
 within two days' sail of home, their vessel 
 foundered. Eva's father had been an 
 officer of rank, and in the enjoyment of a 
 good income ; but with him it died, and it 
 would have gone hard with the orphan 
 girl, then but just fifteen, had not Uncle 
 Angelo held out his helpful hand to her. 
 It had never been offered to her before, 
 nor even had she so much as seen him.
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Colonel Carthew and his brother-in-law 
 had not been on good terms ; indeed, they 
 had despised one another very heartily, a 
 state of things which had had its origin 
 nearly two hundred years ago, for it arose 
 out of that very "Chop at the Kings 
 Head," as Angelo irreverently termed it, 
 or " the murder of our most gracious sove- 
 reign Charles the First," as the colonel 
 designated that much-debated historical 
 catastrophe. The hatchet that they could 
 never bury Avas the one with which William 
 Hulet slew his king. The subject had 
 been always a bone of contention between 
 them, and, on one occasion, the colonel, 
 being his brother-in-law's guest, had so far 
 forgotten that circumstance in the heat of 
 controversy, as to rise and prick with a hot 
 poker, not his host. Indeed, but that which 
 his host valued above himself, or professed 
 to do so, the counterfeit presentment of his 
 regicide ancestor. If you looked at the
 
 "^ MEDICAL opinion: 
 
 picture carefully, you might observe in the 
 abdomen (for the assailant had no tirrle to 
 be particular) a large square patch, which 
 had been let in to conceal the wound. 
 Angelo Hulet never forgave that act of 
 desecration ; never spoke to his sister's 
 husband nor his sister afterwards ; and 
 hated the innocent cause of that estrange- 
 ment, Charles the First, more cordially 
 than before. If, however, his heart had 
 not yearned to go and see his little niece, 
 exiled from her parents, and passing even 
 her holidays under the roof of her school- 
 mistress, it had often reproached him with 
 his neglect ; " if Eleanor had only written 
 a line to ask him to go, or if that idiot, 
 Carthew, had had the grace to apologise 
 for his brutal violence " — but there came 
 no letter till that sad one from the school- 
 mistress which told him that his enemy was 
 o^one whither Charles Stuart and William 
 Hulet had gone before, to Heaven's judg-
 
 12 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 ment, and with him the sister with whom 
 Angelo had been playmate, companion, 
 counsellor (in all except her marriage ; he 
 had '' never liked the man "), and the only- 
 one of his own blood (save one other) in 
 the world. Then, to do him justice, 
 Angelo Hulet put away from him all re- 
 membrance of the quarrel about the 
 merits of that False Tyrant or Blessed 
 Martyr, and leaving orders that the wound 
 in the picture should be neatly healed 
 (which he had hitherto kept open, like an 
 issue, to keep his wrath alive and active, 
 by constant contemplation of it), had set 
 off forthwith for the genteel academy in 
 Linden Grove, Battersea, where sorrowing 
 Eva was, to lay his home and purse at her 
 disposal. 
 
 He had found her, a lithe slender slip of 
 a girl, with an abundance of rich brown 
 hair, which, with her soft hazel eyes, had 
 formed her chief charm at that time ; but
 
 "A MEDICAL OPINION." 13 
 
 the promise of beauty had now ripened 
 into full performance. At eighteen, Eva 
 Carthew was the ornament of her uncle's 
 home, the pride of his heart, and the ac- 
 knowledged flower among the belles of 
 Dunwich. Nor, though her beauty was of 
 a dainty and even delicate sort, was she one 
 of those hot-house plants of " the garden 
 of girls," who shrink from the winds of 
 Heaven, and pass their lives wrapped up 
 as It were in cotton-wool. No matter for 
 snow or rain, she rarely failed to take her 
 daily walk, or at least to step across the 
 street to Allen's iVlmshouse, and visit the 
 ancient dames, to whom her coming was as 
 a streak of sunshine in a waste of cold gray 
 sky. Doctor Burne, the long-established 
 medical authority of Dunwich, protested 
 that she did more good in the village than 
 all the drugs in his dispensary, and that 
 without any " un-English mummery ;" a 
 contemptuous expression which was under-
 
 14 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Stood to comprehend, not only the institu- 
 tion, habit, and profession of Sisters of 
 Mercy, but organized charity of all kinds ; 
 for the doctor was of the old school, and if 
 he had had to paint an angel would have 
 made her carry, instead of a palm branch, a 
 bottle of port wine, and instead of a crown 
 on her head, two half-crowns in her hand, 
 to be given away where it seemed to be 
 most wanted. But for Evy, it is doubtful 
 whether the honest doctor could have kept 
 on good terms with her Uncle Angelo, a 
 man with whose opinions, and even with 
 his numerous maladies (though their ex 
 istence, real or supposed, was much to his 
 own interest), he protested *' he had hardly 
 common patience." 
 
 His patience must have been a good deal 
 tried, for every morning it was expected 
 that he should present himself at the 
 Cedars, feel Mr. Hulet's fluttering pulse, 
 and examine his tongue (he used pur-
 
 "A MEDICAL opinion:' 15 
 
 posely to make him keep it out, ever so 
 long : "■ There are novel symptoms here ; 
 some cymophanous pimples ; we must 
 look to this," &c., &c.) until his patient 
 was half suffocated. When this profes- 
 sional interview was over, the doctor was 
 wont to pay a complimentary visit to Evy 
 in the drawing-room, as happened upon 
 the particular morning we have in our 
 mind. 
 
 " How are you, Doctor Burne ? How 
 is my uncle ?" 
 
 " Excellent, my dear. I have persuaded 
 him that he has a brand-new disease, un- 
 known before to the human species, and he 
 is consequently in the highest spirits." 
 
 '' Oh, doctor, how can you ? When 
 you know, too, that he is really far from 
 well." 
 
 '' That is very true ; but the state of his 
 nerves is chiefly owing to his foolish ap- 
 prehensions about them, and to the quarts
 
 i6 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 of rubbishing stuff that he takes to cure 
 them. Any means that succeed in making 
 him give up those doses of prussic acid, 
 for instance, of which he takes enough 
 daily to poison the whole company of Dun- 
 wich Rifles, their captain included (how 
 well that blush becomes you. Miss Evy !) 
 are more than justifiable. If I can only 
 persuade him to take my medicine in- 
 stead, I will answer for it it will do him no 
 harm." 
 
 '' Nor good, I suppose you mean, you 
 wicked impostor !" 
 
 " Bread pills, my dear ; honest bread 
 pills, with a little powder over them to 
 smell nice and nasty, are what your uncle 
 shall have." And the doctor rubbed his 
 fat hands together, as though he were al- 
 ready concocting them, and chuckled till 
 his red face grew purple. 
 
 " I am afraid he will only take all the 
 other things as well," observed Evy, sighing.
 
 "A MEDICAL opinion:' ly 
 
 " Perhaps ; I told him, however, it would 
 be dangerous — with all the gravity I could 
 muster, and quoting the sentiments of a 
 hanky-panky homoeopathical book that I 
 got hold of the other day — ' It is highly 
 unadvisable, sir,' said I, ' to continue simul- 
 taneously two courses of medicine, each of 
 such considerable power.' And then, what 
 do you think ? I recommended him to 
 take a brisk walk daily in the park. You 
 know how he loves Dirleton Park." Here 
 the jolly doctor fairly roared with laughter, 
 and had to take out his pocket-handkerchief 
 to dry his tears. 
 
 •* Hush, hush ; or my uncle will hear you. 
 It is too bad of you to behave so to him ; 
 I don't like it, doctor." 
 
 " It's all for his good, my dear ; it's all 
 for his good," answered the old fellow, with 
 something of serious apology in his tone, 
 for he saw that his companion was really 
 annoyed ; " besides which, Miss Evy, I put 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 1 8 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 in a word on your own account. When I 
 said, ' you must take to walking in the park/ 
 of course he flew into a deuce of a rage, 
 
 and swore that he would see the park — 
 
 well, in a state of conflagration, first, and 
 that he wouldn't then ; to which I replied 
 that of course he would please himself, but 
 that there was nothing so wholesome as the 
 smell of deer. (' Ah, but that's musk deer, 
 isn't it ?' said he, gravely — when I really 
 thought I should have had a fit.) And 
 then I attributed yourown excellent health 
 to the frequent walks that you took in Lord 
 Dirleton's coverts. Now wasn't that a good 
 stroke of business for you ? and yet you 
 were just now upon the point of being 
 angry with me ; you know you were." 
 
 " I wasn't angry, doctor ; but I don't 
 like to hear dear Uncle Angelo made such 
 fun of. He has been very good to me, you 
 know." 
 
 Her large hazel eyes grew liquid as she
 
 ''A MEDICAL opinion:' 19 
 
 Spoke ; not as the doctor's had done, how- 
 ever, but quite differently. The tears did 
 not fall, but formed clear pools, in whose 
 depths you could see, or at least her com- 
 panion could, glistening infinitely fairer than 
 any Sabrina, gratitude, love, pity. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Miss Evy," said the 
 doctor, who, though he was over-fond of 
 banter, and had an unbecoming habit of 
 wetting his thumb when he commenced to 
 deal at whist, was in feeling a gentleman 
 after a far higher pattern than the Chester- 
 field, once thought very well of, but now 
 happily relegated to its proper place, the 
 tailor's shop, " forgive me for forgetting to 
 whom I spoke. There is no one better 
 aware than myself that your uncle has a 
 good heart, and that it is only his digestion 
 which is out of order. Well, when I spoke 
 of your health, it seems I was only just in 
 time, for he told me that he had had it in 
 his mind this very morning to stop your
 
 20 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 walking in the park altogether. There 
 would have been a pretty kettle of fish ! 
 Why ? Do you suppose, then, I don't know 
 all about it — I, who am the walking re- 
 pository of all the gossip of Dunwich ! 
 * Why,' indeed ! Is it possible that a being 
 can be so young, so fair, and yet so des- 
 perately hypocritical ! You positively beat 
 your ancestor who hangs in the study 
 yonder, my dear Miss Evy, when he 
 dropped a tear upon his regicidal axe, and 
 begged the king's pardon before cutting his 
 head off. Of course I know all about it — 
 the walks in the greenwood glade, and the 
 talks on the seat beneath the chestnut — so 
 that when your uncle put this question 
 categorically, * Are you certain that the air 
 in the park does her any particular good ?' 
 I replied, most honestly, ' The heir of that 
 park is essential to her.' A doctor, fortu- 
 nately for you, does not write out his 
 opinion, or else he must needs have dis-
 
 ''A MEDICAL OPINIO NP 21 
 
 covered at once that I meant Captain 
 Hey ton." 
 
 " Captain Heyton is not Lord Dirleton's 
 heir — at least, not necessarily so," observed 
 Evy, coldly. 
 
 She had blushed and trembled at first, 
 like a rose when the warm south wind 
 blows, at the doctor's too significant rail- 
 lery ; but she was calmly contemptuous of 
 it by this time, and after the manner of 
 her sex, had seized upon his last words to 
 make a diversion in the embarrassing topic. 
 
 '' He Is the heir-presumptive, however, 
 you little prevaricatrix," answered the other; 
 ** and presumption (especially where there 
 is a great deal of it, as in his case) goes a 
 great way. The idea of his standing yon- 
 der at this moment under the porch of 
 Dame Swithin's cottage without the excuse 
 of a drop of rain, and staring up at the 
 Cedars — no, no, he is not there (for Evy's 
 iove-lit eyes had been unable to resist a
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 furtive glance out of the window); but the 
 idea of his doing so (I was about to ob- 
 serve) would not surprise me. There, I 
 am a nasty disagreeable old teaze, you are 
 thinking, perhaps ; but the fact is, dear 
 Miss Evy, I had a reason for my cruel con- 
 duct ; I wanted to make myself quite sure, 
 for your own sake, of how matters stood 
 between you and the captain. I had never 
 seen him when walking with a fair com- 
 panion in the Home Wood press her will- 
 ing hand, or heard him murmur like a dove 
 — a ring-dove — that there was ' none like 
 her, none,' though the presumption was 
 that he had done it ; but now that you have 
 confessed as much — nay, pardon me, you 
 have — I know how to proceed in your in- 
 terests. Your uncle is thinking of leaving 
 Dunwich." 
 
 '' Leaving Dunwich !" echoed Evy, with 
 a piteous stress on the name of the beloved 
 village where she had known nought but
 
 "A MEDICAL OPINION." 23 
 
 happiness, and which for the last three 
 months had been Paradise itself (for the 
 doctor's diagnosis had been correct.) 
 " What reason can he have for doing that ?" 
 " Well, not a very strong one, my dear, 
 in one sense — it's his nerves. He has 
 heard from somebody that Balcombe — a 
 place on the southern sea-coast somewhere 
 — is good for his complaint ; I mean his 
 old one ; and that is why I found out a new 
 one for him this morning, to which Bal- 
 combe air will be very disadvantageous — 
 that is, if you choose it so to be. He is to 
 have my opinion to-morrow, when I shall 
 have thought the matter over. Of course 
 I want you to stop here ; but I would not 
 have humbugged your uncle on my own 
 account ; my principles are too strong for 
 that ; whereas for your sake I am prepared 
 to enter upon a career of unblushing de- 
 ceit. Now am I a cruel old inquisitor ? 
 Now am I a hard-hearted wretch, eh }''
 
 24 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 " Indeed, doctor, I know you have the 
 kindest heart In the world " 
 
 " Softest you mean ; soft as fresh butter, 
 with your sweet image imprinted on it. 
 (She has given me medicines to make me 
 love her ; it is certain she has given me 
 medicines.) Well, go on." 
 
 " I was going to say, doctor, that if you 
 are quite sure that Balcombe would do dear 
 uncle no good, I would very much rather 
 we did not leave Dunwlch." 
 
 '* Very good, my dear. Then if my 
 medical dictum can decide the affair in 
 
 Dunwlch you shall stop But, I say, 
 
 do look out of window. It is not an Idea 
 this time, for such a thing would never 
 have entered into my head. No other man 
 in the parish treads so gingerly over the 
 stones as that. It is he himself — Lord 
 DIrleton is coming across the street, and, if 
 I am not mistaken, to the door of this very 
 house ; and that's his ring."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHAT DUNWICH THOUGHT ABOUT IT. 
 
 T must not be supposed from the 
 interview between Dr. Burne 
 and Eva, that the latter was of 
 a disposition underhand, or even unduly 
 reticent. She loved her uncle well, but he 
 was not one to invite any one's confidence, 
 and certainly not the tender confession of a 
 girl's first love. Upon his own affairs he 
 kept an unbroken silence. Of his former 
 life his niece knew absolutely nothing, save 
 what, as a child, she had learnt from her 
 mother's lips ; that he had once been 
 married, and that his marriage had turned
 
 26 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 out " unfortunately." As she grew up, the 
 term had found a meaning for her that had 
 hushed all questioning. Whatever had 
 been the nature of his matrimonial catas- 
 trophe, It had, without doubt, rendered him 
 very hostile to the married state, and prone 
 to jest with bitter cynicism at love and 
 lovers. Upon the w^hole, then, it was not 
 surprising that Evy had kept her affection 
 for Captain Heyton a secret from her 
 uncle, and, as she had vainly hoped, from 
 all the world. 
 
 As a matter of fact, there was nobody In 
 Dunwich, except Mr. Angelo Hulet, who 
 was not aware that there was '' something 
 between " his pretty niece and the gallant 
 captain, though opinions were much di- 
 vided upon Its nature. Most people thought 
 it was only a flirtation, and those w^ho did 
 not, with a few exceptions, pretended to 
 think so. The five Miss Colvilles of the 
 Grange, who held a highly respectable
 
 WHAT DUNWICH THOUGHT. 27 
 
 county position, and might themselves have 
 made alliance with the noble house of 
 Dirleton without " incongruity " (that was 
 the term), affected to pity " that poor girl," 
 Miss Carthew, with whom John Heyton 
 w^as ** making himself so ridiculous." Lady 
 Wapshaw on the other hand (widow of Sir 
 Richard Wapshaw, late Alderman of Lon- 
 don), of Dunwich Castle, a very modern 
 mansion, with an architectural salt-box at 
 either wing, and an architectural watch- 
 pocket with turrets in the centre — and who 
 possessed one rather pretty and very mar- 
 riageable daughter — protested that Evy 
 would " deserve whatever she got," that is, 
 she was understood to imply, provided it 
 was something of a disappointing nature. 
 She had no patience with young women 
 who threw themselves at the heads of young 
 men in a superior station of life to them- 
 selves, and for her part, thanked Heaven 
 that Captain Heyton had never met the
 
 28 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 girl under her roof. Even Mrs. Melllsh, 
 the rector's wife, with whom Eva was a 
 great favourite, was compelled to admit, 
 under the influence of these great autho- 
 rities, that " the whole affair was to be re- 
 gretted," though she positively declined to 
 accept the position they would have forced 
 on her of volunteer Mentor, and adviser "for 
 her good," to the young lady in question. 
 
 " It is your bounden duty as wife oi the 
 clergyman of the parish," urged Lady 
 Wapshaw, "to depict to this motherless 
 girl the abyss upon which she stands." 
 
 ''Without going so far as that," said 
 Mrs. Colville, " I think a word in season 
 from you — or, perhaps, some little convinc- 
 ing tract upon ambition — might be of the 
 greatest service. Or could you not get 
 your husband to point seriously out to her 
 that she has set her heart upon a Dead Sea 
 apple, with nothing inside of it." 
 
 "Oh, as to that," interposed the titled
 
 WHA T DUNWICH THOUGHT. 29 
 
 lady, contemptuously, " she would jump at 
 it all the same. What does she care whe- 
 ther Captain Heyton is clever or stupid." 
 
 " I was speaking rather in a metaphori- 
 cal sense," explained Mrs. Colville. " I 
 think the unreasonableness of her preten- 
 sions should be dwelt upon — her uncle 
 coming as he does from nobody knows 
 where " 
 
 *! And going to a place about which there 
 can be no possible doubt," put in Lady 
 Wapshaw, acidly. " A man who walks out 
 of church because he won t listen to the 
 service about Charles the First, and kicks 
 over the basket of oak-apples that is 
 brought to his house on the 29th of May — " 
 
 *' And of whom so little is known that it 
 is doubtful whether he is a bachelor or a 
 widower," continued Mrs. Colville. *' Think 
 of the gulf — the social gulf — between such 
 a man and Lord Dirleton." 
 
 Good-natured little Mrs. Mellish looked
 
 30 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 nervously from one to the other, hke a 
 bright-eyed bird in a cage between two 
 cats. '' It's very unfortunate, certainly," 
 she murmured, " and much to be deplored." 
 
 ''Pray say it's 'injudicious,'" sneered 
 Lady Wapshaw, " as you said of those 
 wretches who poached in the Home Wood 
 under his lordship's nose." 
 
 *' Indeed, madam," replied Mrs. Mellish, 
 with some dignity, " I cannot honestly say 
 much worse of it. Eva Carthew is a very 
 sweet girl, and the daughter of an officer of 
 distinction. Of course it would be a great 
 advancement to her — perhaps an unwise 
 advancement " 
 
 " You are surely not supposing a mar- 
 riage, my dear Mrs. Mellish ?" interrupted 
 Lady Wapshaw. 
 
 " I am certainly not supposing anything 
 less than marriage," returned the litde wo- 
 man, her bright eyes glancing scorn, her 
 feathers ruffled to their very quills. " And in
 
 WHA T D UNWICH THO UGHT. 3 1 
 
 this house you must give me leave to say, 
 that I will not have anything less suggested. 
 You don't know Evy Carthew as I know 
 her. She is as simple as a — dear me," said 
 Mrs. Mellish, looking about for a meta- 
 phor, for flights of eloquence were very 
 unusual with her, ** think of the very 
 simplest of God's creatures " 
 
 " Such as the fox," muttered Lady Wap- 
 shaw, fortunately beneath her breath. 
 
 '' I honestly believe," continued Mrs. 
 Mellish, eagerly, " that if that dear girl 
 has fallen in love with Captain Hey ton 
 (mind, I don't say she has or she hasn't), 
 that she loves him for his own sake, and 
 without a thought of his brilliant expecta- 
 tions." 
 
 *' And I honestly believe," said Lady 
 Wapshaw, rising from her seat, with a 
 contemptuous smile, '' that if the present 
 Lord Dirleton, in his sixtieth autumn and 
 his twentieth fit of the gout, was to offer
 
 32 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Miss Eva Carthew his hand, she would 
 drop the nephew like a hot potato, and 
 marry him to-morrow. What do yozi say, 
 Mrs. Colville ?" 
 
 "' Yes, what do you say ?" echoed Mrs. 
 Mellish. She had hopes in the squire's 
 wife, a woman who never refused a soup- 
 ticket, or a yard of flannel to one " recom- 
 mended " by the rector, and appealed to 
 her with the doubtful confidence exhibited 
 by some heroine of melodrama when ad- 
 dressing '* the gentler-natured " of two 
 ruffians. " I am sure you can never be so 
 hard on this poor girl." 
 
 Mrs. Colville drew her shaw^l about her, 
 as a judge twitches his ermine before de- 
 livering judgment, and assumed a very 
 dignified air indeed. 
 
 *' My dear Mrs. Mellish, I have nothing 
 to say against your protegee, personally ; 
 nothing whatever ; she may be, as you 
 s^y, the simplest of created beings. But
 
 WHAT DUNWICH THOUGHT. 33 
 
 as a woman of the world, I must say that 
 I think a girl in her position must be very 
 simple indeed not to understand that a 
 bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, 
 and to accept Lord Dirleton if he asked 
 her. For my part, I think it is just as 
 likely that his lordship should ask her, as 
 that Captain Hey ton will ever do so ; and 
 it is entirely on the girl's own account, and 
 to preserve her from humiliation and dis- 
 appointment, that if I were, like yourself, 
 an intimate acquaintance of Miss Car- 
 thew's, I should think it my duty to open 
 her eyes." 
 
 Mrs. Mellish opened her own eyes very 
 wide indeed, dropped her little head on 
 one side in semi-approval, and promised 
 *' to think about it ;" but no further could 
 the combined eloquence of her two visitors 
 compel her to go. 
 
 " What do yoic think of it, my dear ?" 
 inquired she of her husband, before whom 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 she laid the matter so soon as he came 
 home from his parish round. He was the 
 first rector of Dunwich that had ever worn 
 a beard since Bishop Latimer's time, an in- 
 novation which had at first been despe- 
 rately resisted. The Colvilles had called 
 it " incongruous." Lady Wapshaw had 
 even stigmatized it as "indecent;" but he 
 had carried his point, and now wore mous- 
 tache as well ; it was literally impossible to 
 move him from any position he took up on 
 principle, a hair s breadth. 
 
 " What do I think of it, my dear," re- 
 peated he, stroking " the manly growth 
 that fringed his chin," as he was wont to 
 do when engaged in deliberation ; '' well, I 
 think that Mr. Carlyle's observation with 
 respect to the population of England being 
 ' mostly fools,' is particularly applicable to 
 Dunwich. Where we differ is, with re- 
 spect to the public advantage likely to flow 
 from the influence of the female aristo-
 
 WHAT DUNWICH THOUGHT. 35 
 
 cracy. He was really a great man — a very 
 great man — before people of fashion began 
 to make a fuss about him." 
 
 '' My dear George, how you do fly off. 
 I want to know what to say to Mrs. Col- 
 ville and Lady Wapshaw." 
 
 "Just so, my dear; it's of them I'm 
 thinking, for I'm quite sure it never en- 
 tered into your sensible mind to speak to 
 Eva. Of course the marriage of a girl 
 like that with Hey ton is a very serious 
 thing. Let well alone is a very wise say- 
 ing, and to bring brains into a family that 
 have got on so uncommonly well without 
 them for three hundred years, is without 
 doubt a risk. But you can't tell her that 
 without wounding her feelings on the cap- 
 tain's account. Besides, I do think their 
 intelligence is growing : he is not nearly 
 such a dunderhead as his uncle." 
 
 '' But I can't tell Mrs. Colville that, 
 George," urged Mrs. Mellish, piteously. 
 
 3—2
 
 36 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 " Can't you ? I would much sooner tell 
 her that, than tell Eva Carthew she wasn't 
 good enough for John Hey ton. A tract 
 on ambition, indeed ! Those two women 
 should be sent to Colney Hatch. Well, 
 tell them that you consulted me, and that 
 I recommended for your guidance the 
 golden rule of life that ought to be printed 
 in colours in every national school-room, 
 and placed immediately beneath the ten 
 commandments in every parish church — 
 speaking of which reminds me that we 
 have a vestry meeting at four, and that I 
 must be off." 
 
 " But what is the golden rule ?" pleaded 
 the little woman, clinging to her husband's 
 arm as he was about to hurry away. '' I 
 don't know what I am to tell them now." 
 
 " Now this is shocking," said the rector, 
 kissing his wife's forehead ; " this is what 
 comes of subscribing to missionary enter- 
 prise in the Frozen Islands — yes, you did,
 
 WHA T DUNWICH THO UGHT. 37 
 
 for Lady Wapshaw showed me the half- 
 crown in triumph ; w^ell, you may tell her 
 from me to ' Mind Her Own Business. 
 Colney Hatch, indeed ! that woman is posi- 
 tively dangerous, and ought to be sent to 
 Broadmoor." 
 
 Thus, as has been said, opinions differed 
 in Dunwich as to the match, if match it 
 was to be, between Miss Eva and the cap- 
 tain ; for the little debate at the Rectory 
 was only an example of what had taken 
 place at twenty tea-tables every evening 
 since the unconscious pair had been seen 
 walking together in a certain sequestered 
 '' drive " in the park. They had met more 
 than once, indeed, at the tables of common 
 friends, where the captain had not failed 
 to show a marked interest in the young 
 lady ; but that had been explained (to 
 their own satisfaction) by the five Miss 
 Colvilles as a momentary infatuation, and 
 by Miss Wapshaw, even still more chari-
 
 38 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 tably, on the ground of the captain's deH- 
 cacy of feeling. He had paid attention to 
 her because he perceived she was of in- 
 ferior social position to the other guests, 
 just as a gentleman of fine courtesy is par- 
 ticular to notice his host's eoverness. But 
 *' those clandestine meetings in the Home 
 Wood " — as a matter of fact the pair had 
 met but twice, only one of which occasions 
 had been designed — were not to be ex- 
 plained away. Even in a rank of society 
 where young folks are not punctilious about 
 the proprieties, '' the young man as I walks 
 with" is a phrase of intense significance. 
 Imagine, therefore, the excitement that 
 reigned in Dunwich, when it was reported 
 that old Lord Dirleton, who rarely set foot 
 out of his own park — and, indeed, the gout 
 seldom permitted him to set it anywhere — 
 had been seen to call in person at the 
 Cedars !
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. 
 
 HALL I go, or shall I stop ?'' 
 said the doctor to Evy, as she 
 stood with her hand upon her 
 fluttering heart, listening for the front door 
 to be opened to his lordship's ring. *' I 
 suppose there is no doubt what he is 
 come about, and. if you feel nervous, my 
 dear, you shall retain your medical atten- 
 dant." 
 
 It was kindly meant of the little doctor, 
 for in his eyes Lord Dirleton was one of 
 the greatest men upon the earth's surface. 
 He had submitted to be sworn at by him
 
 40 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 -7-to be sure the gout is an excuse for any- 
 thing — on more than one occasion when 
 he had been '' called in " professionally at 
 the. -hall, and had " put up with" various 
 other indignities, as he acknowledged them 
 to himself to be. The "nobody minds 
 what Lord Dirleton says," which was the 
 salve that many persons used under the 
 like circumstances, did not prevent him 
 from feeling galled. He felt less of a man 
 in his lordship's company than in that of 
 any fellow-creature, and would therefore 
 have willingly avoided it on the present 
 occasion. But if, as it flashed across him. 
 Lord Dirleton was coming to speak face 
 to face with Evy, and give her a piece of 
 his mind, he was prepared to stand by her, 
 at the sacrifice of never being invited to 
 meet Sir Toby Ruffles in consultation (over 
 his lordship's toe) again. This determina- 
 tion was chivalrous but unnecessary. He 
 did the great autocrat of Dunwich wrong
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. ^i 
 
 in supposing him capable of such an outr 
 rage. The fact was that his lordship , 
 would not have been the social tyrant he 
 was, but for the volunteer slaves that -he 
 met with among the neighbouring popu- 
 lation. His relation to his Dunwich neigh- 
 bours had always been, thanks to them- 
 selves, that of a stick to a basket of eggs, 
 with two exceptions ; the rector was not 
 one bit afraid of him ; and in Mr. Angelo 
 Hulet's case a cockatrice had been hatched, 
 who Ignored his authority and even his 
 existence. If, when he had used bad 
 words, the doctor had " stuck up to him," 
 with "Say that again, and, damme, I'll 
 tread on your toe" — and especially if he 
 had carried out his threat — It would have 
 done his lordship more good than a pint of 
 colchicum. But such remedies lie outside 
 the Pharmacopoeia. Excellent as they are 
 in other respects, there is no class of men 
 so inclined to " knock under " to their social
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 superiors as medical practitioners, which^ 
 considering that they generally catch them 
 at a disadvantage, is inexcusable. Doctor 
 Burne was upright enough to everybody 
 else ; but whenever he paid a professional 
 visit — and he paid no others — to the park^ 
 he left his independence in the hall along 
 with his umbrella. 
 
 *' I am not at all afraid of Lord Dirle- 
 ton," said Evy ; and indeed it was not 
 with terror of that great man that her 
 heart went pit-a-pat. " Moreover, his visit 
 can be scarcely intended for me." 
 
 " I don't know that," replied the doctor, 
 suspiciously. '' Hush !" 
 
 The front door bell was beino^ " an- 
 swered ;" then, after a pause of a few 
 seconds, another door below stairs was 
 opened and closed. 
 
 . "He has gone into the study to your 
 uncle," said the doctor, taking up his hat 
 with a sigh of -relief. '' God bless you,.
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. 43 
 
 and fulfil your hope ; but don't build upon 
 it, dear Miss Evy, for I fear the old lord 
 is not here for any good." 
 
 With a wave of his hand and a kindly 
 smile, the doctor left the room and cau- 
 tiously descended the stairs. As he passed 
 the study, he heard voices within which 
 seemed to him already in altercation. '' By 
 Jove !" muttered he, as he let himself out 
 of doors, '' how he'll shatter poor Hulet's 
 nerves for him !" 
 
 Eva, alone in the drawing-room, sits 
 huddled up in a corner of the sofa. What 
 had her late companion meant by supposing 
 that old Lord Dirleton had called on her 
 account, and why should his visit bode no 
 good to her hope ? What right had the 
 doctor to refer by implication to what she 
 had deemed a sacred secret, but which it 
 now seemed was one that everybody knew. 
 Doctor Burne was correct in his surmises, 
 no doubt, though it was so cruel of him to
 
 44 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Speak. *' Dear Jack" had told her that his 
 uncle would be sure to oppose himself to 
 their engagement, tooth and nail, and that 
 therefore it would be better not to disclose 
 it, at all events at present. And now the 
 old man had found it out. Lord Dirleton 
 had never crossed the threshold of the 
 Cedars before, and it could be no light 
 thing that had brought him uninvited 
 thither. She had seen him afar off in his 
 family pew at church (to which her eyes 
 had wandered in search of another object), 
 and he had stared at her very hard, though 
 by no means with disfavour. But he was 
 a gentleman that looked as if he could be 
 easily " put out," and she had Jack's word 
 for it, that when that took place, he was *' a 
 caution." She had marked his red and 
 swollen face, in which the blue blood of 
 the Hey tons could be so plainly discerned, 
 and the ungloved hands that had rested on 
 the edge of the pew, all gnarled and
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. 45 
 
 knotted like the trunk of a tree by his 
 cruel malady ; and she pictured him mad- 
 dened and storming with the rage that she 
 and Jack had kindled. How angry, too, 
 would her uncle be to be informed for the 
 first time, and by such means, of Jack's 
 courtship ! What a terrible interview must 
 be now going on below stairs, between 
 those men so every way antagonistic to 
 one another, and her unfortunate self the 
 bone of their contention, too ! What a 
 trouble she had brought upon her generous 
 benefactor, to whom even small annoy- 
 ances were wont to be a worry and a trial, 
 beneath which his digestion easily suc- 
 cumbed ! 
 
 Certainly Evy did not overrate the un- 
 pleasantness of that quarter of an hour 
 which was being spent by her uncle in the 
 study. When the doctor had left him to 
 go upstairs, he had repaired to his medi- 
 cine cupboard with the intention of recupe-
 
 46 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 rating himself after the fret and flutter, 
 which the detail of his symptoms always 
 caused him, with a dose of quinine. He 
 had placed the bottle on the table, and had 
 filled his glass, when there came that ring 
 at the front door which had filled his niece 
 with such alarm. 
 
 '' Some tattling woman come to call on 
 Evy, I suppose," was his contemptuous 
 reflection. Whoever she was, however, 
 his servant knew better than to admit her 
 into his sanctum, which was tabooed to all 
 such folk. Lady Wapshaw, indeed, armed 
 with her subscription list for the Tonga 
 Islanders, had on one occasion tried her 
 right of way thither, but it was not likely 
 she would attempt that experiment again. 
 He had offered to give his guinea if she 
 would subscribe a similar sum to the 
 " Association for Compelling the Legisla- 
 ture to erect a Statue to Cromwell in 
 Westminster Hall," and had favoured her
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. 47 
 
 with such an exposition of his political 
 sentiments as had led her subsequently to 
 compare him to Jack Cade. Mr. Angelo 
 Hulet chuckled as he recalled the circum- 
 stance, and was holding the quinine up 
 against the light, like a gourmet with a 
 glass of yellow Chartreuse, when his door 
 opened, and the servant announced Lord 
 Dirleton. 
 
 The next instant, and before he could 
 even set down his glass, this most unex- 
 pected visitor was in the room. 
 
 ^^Htcm. r 171 not at all surprised. Drinks P^ 
 were the first words that dropped from his 
 lordship's lips. It was one of his pecu- 
 liarities, and especially when much excited, 
 to think aloud ; his speech, however, was 
 at no time very distinct, and this remark, 
 though it reached the footman's ears ere 
 he left the room, fortunately escaped those 
 of his master. " I have called on a — um — 
 very unpleasant business, Mr. — um."
 
 48 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 " My name is Hulet," observed that 
 gentleman, with dignity. 
 
 '* No, no, it isn't ; that wasn't the name." 
 He drew a slip of paper, which he carried 
 as an aid to memory, from his waistcoat 
 pocket. *' It's Carthew." 
 
 " Miss Evy Carthew Is my niece," ex- 
 plained Mr. Hulet, frigidly, 
 
 " Just so. It's her I am come about. 
 No, I will not take a chair." 
 
 It was plain that he would have pre- 
 ferred to do so, but for some social con- 
 sideration, the nature of which could be 
 guessed from his peevish and Irritable tone, 
 even if you had not caught his muttered 
 soliloquy, " Cant sit down with sttch a 
 fellow r — his legs trembled under him, 
 through weakness or passion, or perhaps 
 from both, and he placed one gouty hand 
 flat on the table, where it looked very like a 
 dish of truffles, to steady himself thereby. 
 
 *' Look you, sir, I have lived on good
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. 49 
 
 terms with all in Dunwich for many a year, 
 as did my fathers before me. No cause of 
 quarrel between myself and my neighbours 
 has ever occurred ; they have kept their 
 places, and I have kept mine. Now you 
 are comparatively a newcomer here, and 
 may not understand — um — ha — our respec- 
 tive positions." 
 
 '' I understand them very well, Lord 
 Dirleton, though the probability is we 
 should not agree in my definition of them. 
 A peer of the realm is, in my opinion, 
 neither better nor worse than any other 
 man." 
 
 '' I have no wish to hear your opinions, 
 sir," interrupted the old lord. " But if they 
 are such as you describe them, there is all 
 the more reason that you should listen to 
 me. It behoves me to point out to you 
 how absurdly impossible and absolutely out 
 of the question it is, that anything serious 
 can come out of this affair, upon which you 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 are perhaps congratulating yourself. My 
 Jack has nothing of his own to speak of, 
 and will have nothing except what I choose 
 to leave him. My Jack is impulsive and 
 high-minded, it is true, but he is not a 
 downright idiot. My Jack " 
 
 *' One moment, Lord Dirleton," inter- 
 posed his companion, blandly, '' I beg your 
 pardon for interrupting you, but would 
 you be good enough to explain yourself — 
 to this extent at least ? Who is ' your 
 Jack ?' " 
 
 '' \ — um — ha — curse his impudence 
 
 Sir, it is ridiculous to pretend to be ignorant 
 of what all Dunwich has been talking 
 about for weeks, though it came to my own 
 ears for the first time this morning, namely, 
 that your niece — um — well — / sttppose I 
 must put it the other zuay — that my nephew, 
 Captain Hey ton, is making love to Miss 
 Carthew." 
 
 *' Whether it seems ' ridiculous ' to you
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. 51 
 
 or not," replied Mr. Hulet, reddening, '' or 
 whether you choose to believe me or not, 
 are matters quite Immaterial to me, Lord 
 DIrleton : but It Is a fact that I have heard 
 nothing whatever about this circumstance. 
 It distresses me to hear it : excitement 
 always makes my heart ' go ' — permit me 
 to take just half a glass of sal volatile. 
 Well, It is but right to say that I have 
 never heard anything to the disadvantage 
 of ' your Jack,' as you call him ; he seemed 
 to me an Inoffensive, If somewhat dull 
 young man, with a most splendid appetite, 
 and I have no doubt most girls would call 
 him good looking." 
 
 '' You have never looked upon him as 
 the heir presumptive of Dunwich Park, I 
 suppose, and heir apparent to the title, I'll 
 wager," responded the other, sarcastically. 
 *' It Is upon those grounds, however, Mr. 
 Hulet, that I have come hither to have a 
 few words with you. You plume yourself 
 
 4—2
 
 52 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 on being what Is called ' a Radical,' I 
 believe." 
 
 *' Then you have been misinformed," was 
 the other's curt rejoinder. " From the 
 first moment that I began to think for my- 
 self, I have been a Republican Ana- 
 baptist." 
 
 *' I did not know there was such a thing 
 in England," observed his lordship. " I 
 should as soon have expected to hear of an 
 anaconda." 
 
 *' There was a time, however," remarked 
 Mr. Hulet, pointing to the picture of his 
 ancestor above the fireplace, '' when Eng- 
 land could boast of many such ; John Brad- 
 shaw, the Lord President of the Council, 
 
 who condemned yonder king " 
 
 " The devil take Bradshaw," exclaimed 
 his lordship, irascibly — "though for that 
 matter he must have taken him long ago — 
 and listen to me. It may be that you are 
 altogether out of your mind, but it also
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. 53 
 
 may be that you are a very cunning fellow. 
 For argument's sake I will take you at 
 your word, and suppose that you conceive 
 yourself — um — the idea of such a thijig — my 
 equal ; that birth and blood and title are 
 all moonshine, and that a simple ' Mr.' is 
 as good as ' my lord.' " 
 
 '* If you conceive all that, you are right 
 in every particular," rejoined the other, 
 quietly. 
 
 '' Very good. Then look you here ; 
 there can be no advantage from your point 
 of view in your niece's marriage with my 
 Jack ; for if that happens, so sure as I 
 stand here, nothing but my bare name 
 shall he ever inherit from me. When I 
 am once ' grassed in ' I cannot hinder him 
 from becoming Lord Dirleton ; but not an 
 acre of my land, not a shilling of my money, 
 shall he ever inherit. Do I make myself 
 intelligible ?" 
 
 " You are perspicuity itself, Lord Dirle-
 
 54 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 ton ; and if I were your family lawyer, 
 these details of your intentions would 
 doubtless be most interesting. I thank 
 you for your confidence, but the disposition 
 of your property does not concern me in 
 any way. It seems to me a matter solely 
 for the consideration of your Jack. My 
 fortune is sufficient, even without the pre- 
 liminary of my being * grassed in,' to sup- 
 port my niece, and her husband too, in 
 comfort ; and though I make no sort of 
 promise about the matter, if I find the 
 young man unstained with the vices gene- 
 rally incidental to his position " 
 
 Lord Dirletons countenance was habi- 
 tually purple, but it now grew black. He 
 imagined that to be a personal reflection, 
 which was in fact only a general censure, 
 and the shaft went home. " Go on, sir," 
 he gasped out ; '' go on." 
 
 " I say, if I find your nephew no de- 
 bauchee, and that his fancy for the Turf, of
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. 55 
 
 which I have heard something, has not 
 degenerated into a passion ; if, in spite of 
 his want of wits, in short, Captain Hey ton 
 turns out to be a good-hearted young 
 fellow and a gentleman, I, for my part, 
 as my niece's guardian and only rela- 
 tive, shall not oppose her choice, however 
 much I may regret the direction it has 
 taken." 
 
 With trembling fingers Lord Dirleton 
 put on his hat. '' I perceive I have made 
 a mistake," said he, " in supposing you to 
 be playing the fool, Mr. Hulet. It is im- 
 possible that any man in his senses can 
 seriously entertain the views that you have 
 expressed, and therefore I must believe 
 them to have been assumed for an object. 
 The fortune of which you have spoken is 
 not so sufficient perhaps but that you wish 
 to see it increased. It would have saved 
 a great deal of time to have stated that at 
 first, but it is a satisfaction to have reached
 
 56 AT HER MERCY, 
 
 something tangible. Jack is dear to me, I 
 don't deny ; but he has been dear to me in 
 another sense on more than one occasion ; 
 so therefore let the ransom be reasonable. 
 What sum will you take to withdraw Miss 
 Carthew's pretensions to my nephew's 
 hand ?" 
 
 Mr. Hulet rose and rang the bell ; the 
 perspiration stood on his pale face, and he 
 kept his hand pressed to his heart as 
 though in pain. 
 
 " You shall have your answer, my lord, 
 immediately." 
 
 It was the first time he had addressed 
 his companion by that title throughout the 
 interview, and the sneer with which he 
 pronounced it was equal to a folio of con- 
 tempt. 
 
 *' Charles," said he, as the servant 
 answered his summons, " show that person 
 out of my house." 
 
 " You shall repent this, you Hulet, to
 
 A DUEL BETWEEN PRINCIPLES. S7 
 
 the last day of your contemptible life," 
 gasped the old lord. 
 
 '' And never let him enter it again," 
 added Mr. Angelo Hulet ere the door 
 closed upon his outraged visitor. " That 
 old wretch has murdered me," groaned he 
 as he sunk Into a chair. " These palpita- 
 tions will kill me outright if I don't take 
 my prussic acid, and yet I dare not trust 
 my hand to drop it from the bottle. As 
 for calling Evy, the very thought of the 
 girl brings it all back. Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat 
 ■ — I'll try another glass of sal volatile. Oh, 
 dear, oh, dear !"
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. 
 
 T is often said that we owe a debt 
 of gratitude to our ancestors for 
 this and that, when it is pretty 
 clear that they accomplished the matter in 
 question at least as much on their own 
 account as on ours : but there is one thing 
 for which we have undoubtedly to thank 
 them, as done for our especial benefit^ 
 namely, for the planting of trees of slow 
 growth. No man, however justly proud 
 of his constitution, can hope to get much 
 advantage for himself out of putting acorns 
 into the ground. All honour, then, to that
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL, 59 
 
 early head of the house of Hey ton, who 
 caused the famous avenue in Dunwich 
 Park — so long that the parallel lines seem 
 almost to meet, so broad that the huge 
 branches that fling themselves across it 
 cannot touch by forty feet their opposite 
 fellows — to be first " dibbled in" without 
 hope of selfish fruition. So straight does 
 it run, so thick are the woods on either 
 hand of that broad green space, of which 
 one spacious side-walk is always in grateful 
 shadow, that you might think the avenue 
 had been cut by skilful hands out of the 
 solid forest, a highway to the terrestrial 
 paradise that lies beyond ic. For at the 
 end remote from the Hali, mere lay deep 
 down in the far-stretching valley such a 
 scene of richness and beauty as is only to 
 be seen on English soil, with an ever- 
 present haze in the eastern distance, which 
 to those who had dwelt beneath it, en- 
 hanced the elories of the rural scene ten-
 
 6o AT HER MERCY. 
 
 fold — for it marked the site of the Great 
 City, all its roar and tumult hushed by dis- 
 tance. A broad grass terrace, backed by 
 a wall of trees, extended right and left of 
 the avenue, and commanded this fair pros- 
 pect, and in the wall was many a gap> 
 where cool green rides through ferny 
 haunts of deer, and brakes where woodland 
 creatures of all sorts would stand and gaze — ■ 
 so seldom was the Home Wood startled by 
 bark of dog or belch of gun — crossed and re- 
 crossed one another in no undesigned confu- 
 sion, though to the casual eye without a plan. 
 In one of these " rides," on the afternoon 
 of the day, the events of whose beginning 
 we have described, a young man is pacing 
 up and down with visible signs of impa- 
 tience. He has cast his restless glance to 
 westward, in which direction lies the vil- 
 lage, a dozen times, and half as many has 
 pulled out his watch, and consulted it, ap- 
 parently to little purpose. It is a hunting-
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. 6r 
 
 watch, and its gold casing has a deep dent 
 in it, as though it had suffered from the 
 perils of the field, otherwise there is 
 nothing to suggest the idea of its owner 
 being a sporting character. He is dressed 
 in country costume, but by no means 
 '' horsily," and the only touch of foppery 
 about him, if such it be, is the exceeding 
 closeness with which his black hair has 
 been cut — almost suggesting recent ac- 
 quaintance with a high fever, or a gaol — 
 and the elaborate symmetry of his small 
 dark moustache. 
 
 A very good-looking young fellow, of 
 three or four and twenty, as we should 
 judge him, is our greenwood friend, though 
 his sunburnt brow Is clouded with dissatis- 
 faction just at present, and his lips are a 
 little compressed, as young gentlemen's 
 who have had their own way in the world 
 are apt to be, when their hack, or their 
 sweetheart, are behind their time.
 
 62 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 There is no doubt which it is on this 
 occasion ; for see, at last, from the direction 
 of the terrace, in which he is not looking 
 for her, trips a young girl, graceful — we 
 will not say as a fawn, for that metaphor 
 can scarcely have been invented by a true 
 forester — but as a gazelle, with her large 
 hazel eyes, soft and tender with recent 
 sorrow, and timid with present fears. 
 
 " So, my darling, you are come at last," 
 cries he, moving his hat at sight of her, so 
 reverently that it seemed less in courtesy 
 than in thankfulness to the gods that had 
 sent him such a prize, and then moving 
 hastily to meet her ; '' but you look tearful, 
 frightened ; nothing serious, I trust, has 
 happened to detain you ?" 
 
 '' Nay, but there has, Jack ; something 
 very serious, and I am frightened, or at 
 least I was until I met you." And then 
 she nestled in his arms as though to be 
 quite sure that she had found her haven.
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. 63 
 
 ** Which shows we ought never to be 
 separated, my dading," observed the young 
 man, appositely. 
 
 '' And that is just what we are about to 
 be, dear," she sobbed, " and perhaps for 
 ever." 
 
 '' My dear Evy, what Is the matter ? 
 Pray, pray don't cry Hke that. I would 
 rather anybody potted at me with swanshot 
 than see your tears. You don't mean to 
 say that your uncle has found us out, and 
 cut up rough about It ; that Is Impossible 
 for anybody to do with you." 
 
 " It's Impossible for him, Jack, that's 
 true, for he Is just the kindest soul In the 
 world to me." 
 
 *' Don't say that, Evy," pleaded the 
 young man, tenderly ; '' say one of the 
 kindest, or the other kindest." 
 
 *' Of course I meant except yourself, 
 dear ; oh, pray, pray don't make fun of 
 it all, for It's dreadful. Yes, my uncle
 
 64 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 has found us out, though that, as it hap- 
 pens, is nothing ; but what is far worse> 
 is that you7^ uncle has found us out 
 also." 
 
 *' The devil he has !" exclaimed the cap- 
 tain, forgetting, in his surprise and annoy- 
 ance, the tender ears of his companion ; 
 " why, how came that about ? are you quite 
 sure r 
 
 " I am positively certain, though how it 
 happened, or who could have told him, I 
 have not the least idea." 
 
 " Then don't trouble yourself to look for 
 one," observed the captain, with as much 
 gaiety as he could assume under what was 
 really a very serious blow to him. " It 
 isn't like inquiring into why our marker at 
 the butt was hit in the leg ; my uncle can't 
 find it out a second time ; sooner or later 
 he must have discovered it. Still there's 
 no doubt it's awkward. He'll blaze up 
 like a hill of dried heather, visible to all
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. 65 
 
 the country round ; and it'll be hard to put 
 him out." 
 
 " My dearest love," exclaimed Evy, 
 sadly, " it will not only be hard, but im- 
 possible. This is the last time — I feel it — 
 that you and I will ever meet. It is wrong 
 of me to call you by those endearing 
 names, to let you kiss me thus when all 
 must be over between us. To think that 
 yesterday we were so happy and unsus- 
 picious, supposing that we were to meet 
 every day alone like this, and now — ah, 
 you will never see me more." 
 
 *' And who is to prevent me, Evy ?" in- 
 quired the captain, not without a flash in 
 his dark eye that seemed to defy any one 
 to attempt it. *' If Lord Dirleton forbids 
 us the park, the whole county doesn't be- 
 long to him, I suppose ?" 
 
 " But we are going away ourselves, dar- 
 ling — uncle and I — at once — to-morrow, I 
 believe." 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 AT HER MERC V. 
 
 " Going away ? What, going to leave 
 Dunwich for good ?" 
 
 *' Yes ; at least for ever," returned Evy, 
 dejectedly, " if that can be called for 
 good." 
 
 *' Ever is a long day," returned the 
 young man, gravely. " Tell me all that 
 happened, dear, from first to last, and then 
 we will settle what is to be done. How 
 did this sudden change in your plans first 
 come about ?" 
 
 ** Well, directly after Lord Dirleton left 
 our house " 
 
 " Your house ?" interrupted the captain, 
 in supreme surprise. '' You don't mean to 
 tell me that he called at the Cedars ?" 
 
 ** Yes, indeed ; he was closeted with my 
 uncle in the study this morning for an hour 
 or more.'' 
 
 " One moment, darling." A whimsical 
 expression crossed the young man's fea- 
 tures. " That's not the room with the
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. 67 
 
 family portrait in it about which Mr. Hulet 
 talks so much, is it ?" 
 
 '' Yes ; the one with the picture of that 
 dreadful man with the mask and the axe ; 
 the two gentlemen seemed to have quar- 
 relled over that even more than over poor 
 me. So far from allowing that the Lord- 
 President Bradshaw was a great man, as 
 you did, and which made Uncle Angelo so 
 pleased with you " 
 
 " Yes ; I thought he meant the man 
 that published the Railway Guide ; but no 
 matter for that — it was a most fortunate 
 mistake." 
 
 " Well, instead of that, I believe Lord 
 Dirleton called him some dreadful name, 
 and refused to listen to my uncle's political 
 sentiments. So, beginning at that dread- 
 ful business of cutting the king s head off, 
 things went on from bad to worse — I wish 
 you wouldn't laugh, dear Jack, when every- 
 thing is so terrible — till at last my uncle
 
 AT HER MERCY, 
 
 rang the bell, and told Charles to show his 
 lordship out of doors. I saw him from 
 the drawing-room window, and he turned 
 back In the middle of the street, and shook 
 his gold-headed stick at the house ; his 
 rage was something awful to witness. I 
 believe he would have killed us all." 
 
 "Stop, stop, Evy," cried the captain, 
 shaking with laughter, '' unless you want 
 to kill me. I would give ten pounds to 
 have seen him, and twenty to have over- 
 heard the conversation between our respec- 
 tive relatives." 
 
 " Lord DIrleton called Uncle Angelo an 
 anaconda," observed Evy, ruefully. 
 
 " A what ? Oh, pray, pray don't," 
 gasped the captain, pressing his hands to 
 his sides. "If you only knew what my 
 uncle's opinions were you would under- 
 stand how charming all this is. He has 
 never seen anybody worse than a Whig, 
 and calls Lord John Russell a firebrand.
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. 69 
 
 Do you think it was made quite clear to 
 him who your uncle's great-great-grand- 
 father really was ? Oh dear, oh dear, it 
 would have been dirt cheap at twenty 
 pounds." 
 
 " But, Jack, don't laugh, pray don't. 
 Indeed, this is nothing to laugh at." 
 
 " Well, well, I have done, Evy ; or at 
 least " — here was a slight relapse — *' al- 
 most. There, there, I'm quite serious now. 
 Well, after ' my noble relative,' as they say 
 in ' the House,' left the Cedars, what hap- 
 pened ?" 
 
 " Why, Uncle Angelo came upstairs to 
 me ; he was very shaky, poor dear, and 
 evidently much put out, and I had to drop 
 him some prussic acid to quiet him." 
 
 " Quiet him ? Gad, I should think it 
 did !" 
 
 " Oh, he's used to prussic acid," con- 
 tinued Evy, '' and always takes it for his 
 nerves. ' So, my dear Evy,' said he, when
 
 70 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 he got a little better, ' I hear you have 
 made choice of a lover/ He didn't fly in a 
 passion because I hadn't told him about it, 
 but only spoke a little coldly, as though I 
 ought to have done so, as, indeed, he well 
 might, considering how good and kind he 
 has always been to me. But there, you 
 told me not to tell, you know." 
 
 *' You're an angel," said Jack, admir- 
 ingly, " and your uncle is a trump. Pray 
 go on." 
 
 " Well, of course, I then told him every- 
 thing ; how I had often seen you, not only 
 out at dinner in his presence, but at even- 
 ing parties to which Mrs. Mellish had taken 
 me ; and how we met in the pafk, at first 
 by chance, and afterwards — just once or 
 twice — by appointment ; and how good 
 and nice you were, and how liberal you 
 were in your opinions. I thought I would 
 put that in, and, besides, I knew he had 
 been pleased with you about Bradshaw.
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. 71 
 
 Well, he listened very patiently, and when 
 I had made an end of praising you (which 
 took a long time, my darling, as you may 
 guess), he just stooped down, and kissed my 
 forehead/' 
 
 *' Like that ?" inquired the captain, with 
 affected curiosity, and suiting the action to 
 the word. 
 
 *' No, sir, not like that ; I said ' my fore- 
 head/" 
 
 '* I beg your pardon," deprecated Jack, 
 "like that, then. Well, he just stooped 
 down and " 
 
 " And said," continued Evy, avoiding 
 this time this forward young gentleman's 
 caress, " that I was a very silly girl, and did 
 not know when I was well off. But that if I 
 was bent upon marriage, and supposing that 
 the object of my choice — he would keep 
 calling you ' the object,' dear, which an- 
 noyed me very much, though I tried not to 
 show it — supposing that you should appear
 
 72 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 to him, after due inquiry, and further per- 
 sonal knowledge, to be an eligible person, 
 he would not stand in our way — with one 
 proviso. We were not to see one another^ 
 nor even to communicate by letter, for the 
 next six months." 
 
 ** And what did you say, Evy ?" 
 " Well, what could I say, darling ? I 
 felt that it would half kill me, but still 
 things might^have been so much worse, so 
 after stipulating for this one interview, I 
 promised not to meet you for six months, 
 unless by accident. At this my uncle re- 
 plied coolly that I need be under no appre- 
 hension upon that account, because we were 
 to leave Dunwich to-morrow. Up to that 
 time I had flattered myself that Lord Dirle- 
 ton had agreed to this temporary separation 
 between us, but my uncle then proceeded 
 to tell me what had taken place downstairs. 
 I will not repeat what he said of his lord- 
 ship, for of course it would not be pleasant
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. n 
 
 for you to hear ; but he ended by protest- 
 ing that he was quite certain that he should 
 not breathe freely until at least a hundred 
 miles were put between himself and — and 
 — Lord Dirleton, and therefore we were to 
 be off at once. Then my heart sank within 
 me, darling ; not because I was going 
 away from Dunwich, nor because I feared 
 that you would forget your Evy in six 
 months, but on account of your uncles 
 anger, which my heart told me would make 
 him bid you never see me more, and, alas, 
 tells me still." 
 
 And once more the poor girl broke 
 into passionate sobs, and feebly strove to 
 prevent Jack from consoling her with his 
 caresses. 
 
 " Things are not quite so bad as that, 
 darling," said he, cheerfully, though, by his 
 grave face, and the way he pulled his mous- 
 tache this way and that, it was evident that 
 he feared they would be. " And look you.
 
 74 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Evy," added he, solemnly, " if they come to 
 their worst, their very worst, it would only 
 be house and land that he could take from 
 me, and what are they compared with you ?" 
 " No, no," said Evy, passionately, ''you 
 must not say that. I could never be the 
 cause of your being disinherited. It is all 
 very well for Uncle Angelo to despise 
 wealth and honours — and he does so quite 
 honestly — but I know they are very dear to 
 most men's hearts. You may think to-day 
 that they might be well exchanged for my 
 poor self; but you might not think so when 
 you had lost them ; and even if you did, 
 Jack, / should not think so. Not a thought 
 of this beautiful place, so full of sweet 
 memories as it is to me (ah me, how sweet !), 
 would come into my mind, without the 
 bitter reflection, ' and it went from him 
 through me.' I was wrong to come here 
 to-day, darling. I am wrong to call you so, 
 and yet, alas, alas, what could I do ?"
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL. 75 
 
 It was pitiful to see her, folded in her 
 lover's arms, but without returning his em- 
 brace, and sobbinof as thoueh her over-tried 
 heart would break. 
 
 " Now this isn't my good, sensible Evy," 
 reasoned the young fellow, with tender 
 gravity, "■ the girl whom Doctor Burne says 
 has more wits, and does more good with 
 them, than all the other girls in Dunwich put 
 together, and of whom Mrs. Mellish told 
 me with her own lips that she wished she 
 were a daughter of her own. I don't want 
 to let the park slip through my fingers, you 
 may be sure, my darling, nor the old hall, 
 neither, for that matter. I don't pretend to 
 any of the philosophy of your uncle, and 
 had much rather be a great man in the 
 sense of the vulgar herd (which is a very 
 numerous herd indeed) than not. And on 
 the other hand I am not going to sell my 
 soul — you are my soul, you know ; what ? 
 You're not ? Then I wish you were, for
 
 76 AN HER MERCY. 
 
 then it would be something pure and good 
 and beautiful — I am not going to sell my 
 soul, I say, for so much gold and clay. My 
 uncle has your taste, and likes me vastly, 
 and I am much mistaken if he doesn't think 
 twice before promoting my cousin Dick to 
 the post of his heir-presumptive vice Jack 
 (who married an angel). Come, look up, 
 dear ; let us ' trust in Providence,' as your 
 uncle's friend old Cromwell used to say, 'and 
 keep our— eyes dry.' There, I've kissed 
 the drop away ^om that, and now — oh yes, 
 I must ; you can't have one dry eye and 
 one wet one ; it's contrary to nature ; there, 
 now all's right. I am dining with Lord 
 Dirleton alone to-night — for the poor old 
 fellow is far from well — and we shall doubt- 
 less have this out together. To-morrow 
 morning, before you start, I will let you 
 know what has happened. But, by- 
 the-by, what place is it you are going 
 to ?"
 
 A LOVING FAREWELL, 77 
 
 " To Balcombe, I believe," sighed Evy ; 
 *' a place on the south coast much recom- 
 mended for the nerves." 
 
 " Balcombe, Balcombe. I have heard of 
 that," said the captain, referring to a little 
 volume he took from his breast pocket. 
 
 " What is that book ? ' Where shall we 
 go to this Summer,' I suppose," said Evy. 
 *' ' Climate warm but bracing,' doesn't it 
 say r 
 
 " Not a bit of it, my dear," laughed the 
 captain. " It is not the ' Tourist's Guide,' as 
 you Imagine. It's all about racing. Events 
 of the year. Here it is — 'Balcombe 
 Steeplechases, April 4th.' That's a good 
 six months hence, and outside your uncle's 
 limit. Well, I'll go down to Balcombe, 
 'by accident,' with my new Irish horse, 
 Walltopper, and win the cup. Come, 
 that's settled, at all events. We are 
 just coming to the end of the Home 
 Wood, by-the-by, dearest, and unless you
 
 78 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 prefer to wish me good-bye in public — a 
 good-bye to last for half a year " — here 
 followed a delicious silence, and little more 
 was said till they parted within a few yards 
 of the park gates, Evy a little comforted by 
 her lover's assuring words, Jack somewhat 
 cast down by the thought of the expected 
 interview with his uncle, but as firm as a 
 rock in his intention to keep his plighted 
 word. 
 
 Mr. Angelo Hulet did the Heytons an 
 injustice in saying that that noble race had 
 never been famous for anything beyond de- 
 scending from their ancestors ; they were 
 quite as notorious for never giving up a 
 determination, whether for good or ill, 
 whatever it cost them. They would as 
 soon have thought of being persuaded out 
 of an opinion.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH LORD DIRLETON OVERREACHES 
 HIMSELF. 
 
 HETHER the proverb, '' Every- 
 body has his good point/' is one 
 worthy of acceptance is, in our 
 opinion, open to some doubt, since, in the 
 case of a thoroughly offensive personage, 
 the point in which he displays himself to 
 less of disadvantage than others is but too 
 often set down as a " good " one ; but with 
 respect to Lord Dirleton the saying had a 
 a proper application enough. He was a 
 tyrannical old Turk, highly disreputable in 
 many ways, and venerable in none, but he
 
 So AT HER MERCY. 
 
 was redeemed by some social virtues. He 
 was liberal, not to say lavish, with his 
 money ; affectionate not to say amorous, in 
 his disposition, and at least as violent in his 
 preferences as in his dislikes. Moreover, 
 he hated a sneak (which he shrewdly sus- 
 pected his nephew Dick to be), and held a 
 hearty plain-spoken fellow (provided that 
 his opinions did not disagree with his own) 
 in genuine estimation. Had it been for 
 this reason alone, he would have liked the 
 captain ; but since the latter went also 
 *' straight as a bird " across country, was a 
 crack shot, and his godson — the Rubric is 
 very elastic, but never surely had it before 
 admitted between its lines so unspiritual a 
 sponsor as John, Lord Dirleton — "my 
 Jack " was a prime favourite. 
 
 Moreover, some fashionable fibber had 
 once remarked that the portrait (by young 
 Shee) of his lordship, when a youth of 
 eighteen, was the " image of the present
 
 DIRLE TON O VERREA CHES HIMSELF. 8 1 
 
 Captain Heyton," and that trifling circum- 
 stance had wonderfully assisted to increase 
 the egotistic old fellow's affection for his 
 eldest nephew. Jack, unlike a certain 
 cousin of his, was not always on the look 
 out for spoil, and never asked for his debts 
 to be paid until the matter became pressing; 
 didn't meddle with politics, and was not a 
 dandy ; indeed, he would have gone on 
 active service, had not his uncle kept him 
 at home for his own pleasure, a circum- 
 stance that gave the lad a greater claim 
 than all else to regard himself as his heir. 
 It would have been insufferable to most 
 young men of any spirit to live under the 
 same roof with Lord Dirleton in a position 
 of dependence upon him ; but it was not so 
 with Jack, who really liked his uncle, and 
 would as soon have thought of playing the 
 sycophant as the piano. Bashaw as he was 
 to most folks. Lord Dirleton thoroughly 
 understood that Jack's own liberties were 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 never to be encroached upon, nor Jack him- 
 self dictated to de hatit en das ; and that, 
 sooner than submit to the least insult, the 
 young fellow would have packed up his 
 half-dozen portmanteaus of fashionable gar- 
 ments, and left the hall at once, to face the 
 world on his own trumpery five hundred a 
 year. And what would his lordship have 
 done then ? Who would have understood 
 his humours, and attended to his wants as 
 Jack had done ? Who would have " man- 
 aged " him when he had the gout, so as to 
 keep his temper within reasonable bounds, 
 and prevent the servants from leaving the 
 house en masse ? Who would haves uper- 
 Intended his stud, and had the pedigree of 
 every horse at his finger-ends, as well as 
 the names of the winners of all the Derbys, 
 which formed the calendar of his own 
 past ? " Let me see, when was it I first 
 sat for Loamshire, Jack ?'' or '' Ran away 
 with that Italian woman ?" or " Went out
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 83 
 
 with Sir Harcourt Leslie ?" To each of 
 which queries Jack would answer without 
 error, as he quietly cracked his walnuts, 
 " Blisbury's year," or " Archimedes* year," 
 or " The Dead Heat year, between Anti- 
 mony and Perspiration," just as it hap- 
 pened. Who but Jack would have left the 
 billiard-room that winter's night, in his 
 pumps and silk stockings, and gone into 
 the Home Wood after those infernal 
 poachers, and netted the whole lot of 
 them ? Well, certainly not Dick, who, 
 what with his lisp, and his flute, and his 
 French phrases, might as well have been 
 his niece as his nephew. 
 
 And If Jack was not without a sense of 
 the " necessity" that he had made himself 
 — not with calculating design, however — 
 to the old man, he also acknowledged in 
 his uncle, not, indeed, a patron, but a most 
 generous and kindly benefactor. He was 
 not afraid of Lord Dirleton — he was afraid 
 
 6—2
 
 84 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 of no man — but he had carefully avoided 
 all occasions of quarrel with him, and now 
 that a disagreement was impending be- 
 tween them — and one likely to be most 
 serious and lasting — his pity for himself 
 was not unmingled with pity for his anta- 
 gonist. *' The old fellow has always be- 
 haved to me like a trump," wa^ his pre- 
 sent reflection, as he took his way slowly 
 towards the hall, after his parting with Evy, 
 " and whatever he says, I will try to keep 
 my temper, and look at the matter from 
 his own point of view." He meant, of 
 course, short of yielding the main point, of 
 which, as we have said, he was, by birth, in- 
 capable. Even his cousin Dick, by com- 
 parison a most prudent and calculating 
 character, never gave up a fancy, no matter 
 what the pecuniary advantage of so doing. 
 
 Unfortunately Lord Dirleton himself was 
 a Heytonalso. 
 
 Never had the park, with its herds and
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 85 
 
 flocks, seemed so well worth possessing as 
 now, when the captain trod it, as its heir 
 presumptive, perhaps for the last time ; 
 never had the grand old hall seemed an 
 inheritance so fair as now, when he was ap- 
 proaching it as its future master, perhaps 
 for the last time. To ordinary visitors on 
 foot, the porter, a solemn being, resplendent 
 in scarlet and gold, opened the postern door 
 let in to one side of the huge gateway ; to 
 persons of higher quality, and to junior 
 members of the house of Hey ton, one wing 
 of the gate was thrown back at their ap- 
 proach ; for his lordship and the captain 
 alone was reserved the honour of having 
 the great gate thrown open. 
 
 In the first case the resplendent creature, 
 wrapt in contemplative calm, took no notice 
 of the incomer, whom he ushered into the 
 courtyard, there to be received by an in- 
 ferior member of the household ; in the 
 second he stood bolt upright, like a soldier
 
 S6 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 at " attention ;" in the third case he re- 
 moved his gold-bound and cockaded hat, 
 and bowed to the extreme Hmit that obe- 
 sity permitted. " Will old Benson ever 
 bow like that again to me ?" thought Jack, 
 grimly, as he acknowledged this retainer's 
 profound salutation. For the entail stopped 
 with the present lord, who had, as has been 
 said, the power of leaving house, and land, 
 and gold, everything, in fact, but his bare 
 title, to whomsoever he pleased. Jack's 
 mind pursued the same thread of thought 
 — not a very high one, perhaps, but a na- 
 tural one enough under the circumstances 
 — as he mounted the great stairs, up which 
 he had so often assisted his uncle's crippled 
 feet, and passed along the gallery from 
 whose walls his ancestors seemed to regard 
 him with doubtful looks. " This Is not the 
 young man that is to succeed us, then, after 
 all," whispered they to one another. 
 
 In his own apartments, where he pro-
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 87 
 
 ceeded to dress himself for dinner, there 
 were many things to suggest a continuance 
 of the same theme. The sitting-room had 
 been fitted up by his uncle, as a "surprise" 
 to him, on some occasions of his own ab- 
 sence, in the manner that had been judged 
 suitable to the young man's taste ; the fur- 
 niture was of oak, carved in imitation of 
 various incidents of the chase, and on the 
 walls, in frames similarly carved, were en- 
 gravings of the most famous pictures in 
 connection with that subject. His dressing- 
 table, again, was weighted with the most 
 splendid articles of the toilet in gold or 
 silver, all gifts from that loving kinsman, 
 whose affection he was now about to try to 
 the uttermost, and, in all probability, be- 
 yond what it could bear. But though a 
 sigh would now and then escape Jack on 
 his own account, his chief regret was still, 
 as before, for him who had loaded him with 
 so many tokens of his love, and in whose
 
 88 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 eyes the return he was about to make for 
 them must needs seem heartless and un- 
 grateful. 
 
 *' If I am kicked out of this," mused the 
 captain, not in self-conceit, but with the air 
 of one who states a fact to be regretted, 
 " the poor old fellow will find himself very 
 lonely, I am afraid." And then the gong 
 sounded for dinner. 
 
 His unwonted pedestrian expedition to 
 the village, and the excitement of his in- 
 terview with Mr. Hulet, had already 
 brought his lordship's leg to the foot rest, 
 which Jack did not fail to remark upon 
 with becoming solicitude, and not only on 
 his relative's account, but on his own, for 
 he well knew that the circumstance would 
 not be in his favour in the comine strues^le. 
 
 " Yes," replied his uncle, peevishly, '' I've 
 been most Infernally worried to-day, and 
 worry always flies to my toe." 
 
 This was the fact, and his lordship was
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 89 
 
 apt to insist upon it, as a reason why he 
 should never be thwarted, just as Mr. 
 Hulet, equally autocratic, though on a 
 smaller scale, objected to contradiction on 
 the ground that "it made his heart go." 
 Jack dared not ask what had worried his 
 noble relative, lest he should blurt out 
 something before the servants, but merely 
 expressed his regret ; and the dinner pro- 
 ceeded in total silence, except that his 
 lordship ''' broke out" occasionally (wholly 
 without occasion) at the cook ; and that 
 also was a bad sign. 
 
 No sooner were they left alone together, 
 however — the claret Avith Jack, and the 
 whisky, medicinally prescribed, beside his 
 uncle — than the latter drew a letter from 
 his waistcoat pocket, and tossed it over to 
 his companion, with a " Read that, sir." 
 
 Jack obeyed him, and then, with a quiet 
 face, returned it. 
 
 " Well, what have you to say to it, sir ?'*
 
 90 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 '* Nothing more, uncle, than what is 
 usually said of anonymous communications. 
 It is a very blackguard trick, if such a 
 phrase can be used in the case of a female, 
 for I am afraid the handwriting reveals the 
 sex." 
 
 " Yes, it's a woman of course," answered 
 his lordship. '* * A true friend to the 
 social proprieties ventures to ask Lord 
 Dirleton whether he is aware that his 
 nephew, Captain Heyton, is on the verge of 
 being entangled into a matrimonial engage- 
 ment by the niece of Mr. Angelo Hulet, a 
 Miss Carthew ?' No man could have 
 written like that. But that is not the 
 point, sir. What I wish to inquire is, is it 
 true ?" 
 
 ** So far as the being ' entangled In a 
 matrimonial engagement,' is concerned, 
 uncle," replied the young man, slowly, '' it 
 is a lie. Otherwise the statement is correct 
 enough."
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 91 
 
 '' I don't quite understand you, Jack," 
 answered his lordship, brightening up. *' I 
 am not very straightlaced, as you know ; 
 but I do hope that you have not been so 
 imprudent — in the village here, close under 
 my very nose — to form any connection 
 that " 
 
 '' My lord, I must beg you not to finish 
 that sentence," interrupted Jack, with a 
 sudden flush on his face. '' Miss Carthew 
 is a lady born and bred, in all respects my 
 equal — in most my superior. My denial 
 referred only to the word ' entangled ;' she 
 is utterly incapable of such conduct as that 
 infamous letter would attribute to her." 
 
 '' Very likely ; but you don't mean to 
 tell me that you have engaged yourself to 
 this girl ?" 
 
 ''Well, if you ask me, uncle, I must 
 needs reply, yes." 
 
 *' You must, must you ?" roared the old 
 m^an, making, as though he would strike
 
 92 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 the table with his fist, and remembering 
 his gout only just in time to avert the most 
 frightful consequences, " then, by the Lord 
 Harry, you need not trouble to call me 
 ' uncle ' any more." 
 
 *' Very good, my lord." 
 
 Here the young man concluded his task 
 of peeling some half-dozen walnuts, and 
 placed them on his companion's plate, as 
 he had been wont to do at dessert-time,, 
 in the walnut season, for many a year. In 
 the spring he peeled oranges for him in the 
 form of an hour-glass. 
 
 *' I don't want your walnuts," said his 
 lordship, peevishly, yet evidently touched 
 by the accustomed action nevertheless. 
 '' I want you to show a little common 
 sense, and to remember your position." 
 
 " I do not forget it, my lord," returned 
 Jack, modestly. '* It has been a very 
 comfortable one, thanks to you, for many 
 years."
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 93 
 
 " Well, then, why not keep it, sir ? Why 
 quarrel with your bread and butter — nay, 
 your bread, for you have almost nothing of 
 your own — for the sake of a pretty face. 
 You are aware I can leave my money 
 just as I please. I've got neither wife nor 
 children" — perhaps the ghost of a smile 
 flickered on his nephew's lip, or perhaps 
 the old lord only imagined it — but he 
 added, hastily, '' that is to speak of. All 
 that you inherit, independent of my favour, 
 is a barren title ; and can there be anything 
 more wretched than the position of a 
 pauper peer ? You will, of course, have a 
 lot of brats, and be unable to maintain 
 them ; for what government will give its 
 loaves and fishes in return for a mere vote 
 without influence. But there, I am talking 
 to one who doubtless never troubles him- 
 self to look so far ahead. Let me speak^ 
 then, of the present. Would you like to 
 be dependent on the bounty of such a
 
 94 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 father-in-law as Mr. Angelo Hulet; for 
 that, as he informed me with his own lips, 
 is the fate that is in store for you. Have 
 you ever seen that man, sir ? heard him 
 talk ?" 
 
 " I have met him on one or two occa- 
 sions," replied Jack ; " he is not a man to 
 my taste, of course, but he is a gentleman ; 
 and " 
 
 '' A gentleman, begad !" broke in the 
 old lord ; ** the devil he is ! Then I don't 
 know what a gentleman means. Are you 
 aware, to begin with, that he is descended 
 — and JDoasts of it, sir, boasts of it — from 
 that cut-throat villain, Hulet, who be- 
 headed Charles the First ? He's got a 
 picture of him in his parlour, to which he 
 pays as much adoration as any Papist to 
 an altar-piece. Do you suppose I would 
 ever give my permission to cross the Hey- 
 ton stock with that of a regicide ? No, sir, 
 upon my honour I never will ; so there.
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 95 
 
 And I tell you what. You shan't have 
 the title neither; and I'll let the girl know 
 this, since that's what she's after, I suspect ; 
 for if you marry her, I'll marry too, begad 
 I will, and beget heirs, like my fathers be- 
 fore me ; so there." 
 
 In spite of the evil turn affairs were 
 taking, Jack could not repress a smile at 
 this characteristic menace. 
 
 " Of course, my lord," replied he, quietly, 
 " you will act as you think proper. The 
 young lady in question is not, however, let 
 me remind you, a Hulet ; but the daughter 
 of an officer of distinguished merit." 
 
 " Um ! ha ! they're always that," soli- 
 loquized Lord DIrleton ; '' the only child 
 of a hard-working clergyman, who suc- 
 cumbed beneath his own parochial labours, 
 or else of an officer of high rank, who 
 perished upon the blood-stained field. 
 Who ever knew a mesalliance without 
 them. However," added he, "• she comes
 
 96 AT HER MERC V. 
 
 of the Hulet blood on one side ; and that 
 is quite enough for me. These are revo- 
 lutionary times, sir ; I should not be sur- 
 prised — what's bred in the bone, you know, 
 is sure to come out in the flesh — if some 
 offspring of this projected union should 
 become headsman to the future Cromwell. 
 Oh, Jack, Jack !" exclaimed the old lord, 
 with a sudden descent from historical pre- 
 diction to the lowly level of natural affec- 
 tion, " why should you be such a damned 
 fool ? My word is passed, you know, upon 
 this subject, and I can't draw back, even 
 if I would — • — " 
 
 " And 7ny word, my lord, is also given," 
 interposed Jack, with dignity ; '' so with 
 your leave we will let the matter drop. 
 It is from no want of dutifulness, nor of 
 gratitude, believe me, that I am compelled 
 to take a course which I feel must dis- 
 sever my future from yours. You have 
 been a father to me ever since I lost my
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 97 
 
 own — more indulgent than most fathers, 
 and as kind " 
 
 " And as loving," put in the old lord, in 
 trembling tones — " as loving as any father, 
 you ungrateful dog." 
 
 "■ Indeed I do believe it, sir," confessed 
 Jack, playing nervously with his claret 
 glass, '' and I am not ungrateful. What 
 I would persuade you, if I could, is, that 
 in giving up all you have to give me, I 
 shall feel the loss of your love the most of 
 all." 
 
 ''Then why give it up. Jack ?" pleaded 
 the other ; '' or if you will be so infernally 
 obstinate, at least, there need be no hurry 
 about giving it up. You are not going to 
 marry this girl to-morrow, I suppose, nor 
 yet the next day ?" 
 
 Jack, with a certain comical air of chagrin, 
 adm tted that such was the fact. 
 
 '• Very well, then," continued the old 
 lord, '' don't let us say another word about 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 AT HER MERC V. 
 
 It at present ; that is, after I have asked 
 one favour of you, and you have granted 
 it." 
 
 It touched Jack much to hear his uncle, 
 who had been so long accustomed to lay 
 down the law to everybody, thus appealing 
 almost as a suppliant, and to him. 
 
 " Indeed/' said he, " there is nothing, 
 my lord, in which I will not oblige you, 
 short of giving up what has become the 
 dearest object of my life." 
 
 " Then promise me not to see this young 
 lady for the next twelve months," said 
 Lord Dirleton, grimly. 
 
 Jack had stepped into the pitfall. It 
 was an ungenerous advantage for his uncle 
 to have taken, and that the old man felt it 
 to be so was evident from the apologetic 
 tone in which he went on to speak. 
 
 " This will be a good touchstone of the 
 sincerity of your affections, you see, Jack ; 
 if you are really so bewitched as to be past
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. 99 
 
 cure, absence will only make you the more 
 foolish — I mean, more fond ; whereas, if 
 your attachment is but a passing fancy, as 
 I most sincerely trust it may prove to be, 
 you will forget all about the girl during 
 the interval. Come, you can't be worse 
 for waiting — though h'm — ha — he shall be 
 no better ; for Fm fixed as the poles about 
 the main point — and you did say you would 
 accede to my request." 
 
 '' Nay, my lord," said Jack, who felt 
 much aggrieved by this sharp practice, " I 
 spoke with the tacit understanding that you 
 would ask something in reason. Now, if 
 you made it six months " 
 
 " Pooh, pooh. Six months is nothing ; 
 I've loved. a girl myself for as long as that. 
 Let us say nine. In a subject of this deli- 
 cate nature there's an appropriateness in 
 nine. H'm — ha — begad, if it ain't like a 
 Dutch auction. Come, say nine." 
 
 " It must be six months, my lord," said 
 
 7—2
 
 loo AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Jack, speaking with great gravity, yet 
 scarcely able to repress a smile, not at his 
 lordship's "aside," but at the reflection 
 that he was hoisting his adversary with 
 his own petard ; for was he not already 
 banished from the beloved object for the 
 time in question ? 
 
 '' Well, well, let us say six. Jack ; h'm — 
 in six months this young fool will have 
 come to his senses ; only mind this, the 
 separation between you must be complete. 
 You must not even write to one another ; 
 I'll have no sending kisses in sealing-wax." 
 '' That is a very hard stipulation," pleaded 
 Jack. He was by nature the reverse of 
 hypocritical ; and if his uncle had not laid 
 that trap for him, he would have at once 
 confessed that Mr. Hulet had already 
 made this very proviso : but now he had 
 no scruples. 
 
 " Come, come ; no meetings and no cor- 
 respondence for six months, sir," insisted
 
 DIRLETON OVERREACHES HIMSELF. loi 
 
 his lordship, impatiently. *' Promise me 
 that !" 
 
 '' Very good, my lord," said Jack, sub- 
 missively. " I will send but one note to 
 Miss Carthew this morning to tell her how 
 the matter stands, and then I will neither 
 see nor write to her again for the next half 
 year." 
 
 *' Good lad, good lad," answered the old 
 man, approvingly ; *' and look here. Jack, 
 you need not trouble yourself during that 
 interval to call me ' my lord ' any more. 
 And — um — he — this folly of his will never 
 last so long ; three months was the extreme 
 limit with me, though I did tell him six. 
 Yes, and now I'll eat your walnuts."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BALCOMBE. 
 
 HERE is no country in the world, 
 prone as our fellow-countrymen 
 are to travel abroad in pretended 
 search of the picturesque, of such various 
 beauty as old England. Almost every one 
 of its inland counties has its characteristic 
 charm ; while its sea-coast is absolutely 
 inexhaustible for variety of form and 
 colour. 
 
 As to Dunwich, I positively assert that 
 there is nothing to compare with it for rich 
 repose and home-like splendour in the four 
 quarters of the globe, and yet Dunwich is
 
 BALCOMBE. 103 
 
 not (I am glad to say) " a show place " by 
 any means. '' I trust we have within this 
 realm" fifty such tranquil paradises, on 
 which no sooner do our eyes rest than we 
 exclaim, " Here should I like to dwell." 
 
 Now Balcombe is a show place. All 
 who can read the announcements of the 
 railway companies upon the walls, with 
 respect to family excursion tickets, have 
 read of it, and everybody who is anybody 
 (that is, about one thousandth part of our 
 total population) has visited it. Especially 
 everybody with nerves. Balcombe is situ- 
 ated on a beautiful bay on the south coast, 
 where the trees start from the very edge of 
 the shore, on quite an Alpine expedition. 
 They climb seven hills, among which, in 
 dells, and clefts, or on commanding '' spurs," 
 the town is set, and from this circumstance 
 it is sometimes called the British Babylon. 
 It has no other affinity, however, with the 
 Scarlet Woman, who, indeed, is held in
 
 104 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 general abomination at Balcombe, the mi- 
 gratory population of which — and that is 
 the only population worth talking about — 
 are, as in most seaside places of fashionable 
 resort in England, eminently evangelical. 
 There is something in the ocean air, I 
 fancy, that is inimical to Popery, or perhaps 
 it is the iodine in the seaweed, or the smell 
 of the shrimps. Nor is the morality of 
 Balcombe, as a rule, inferior to its ortho- 
 doxy, though this may be in some measure 
 accounted for by physical causes. Five- 
 sixths of its visitors are confirmed invalids, 
 and persons who go about with respirators 
 in bath-chairs, seldom indulge in loud 
 language, and almost never frequent music 
 halls or casinos. If a "Hall by the Sea," 
 such as there is at Ramsgate, and other 
 places, patronized by the hale and vulgar, 
 was to be set up at Balcombe, it would fail 
 most miserably, though it would doubtless 
 have its effects ; the very idea of it, the
 
 BALCOMBE. 105 
 
 issuing of its prospectus, would be fatal to 
 many ; the mere laying its lance in rest 
 would probably empty half the bath-chairs. 
 A shock of that kind would be too much 
 for the poor folks with nerves. I have 
 heard many persons thus afflicted positively 
 find fault with the beauty of Balcombe, 
 because of its attracting '' mobs of people " 
 during the summer months, and when an 
 excursion train is announced they all with- 
 draw into their villas like rabbits in a 
 warren, and keep themselves to themselves, 
 till the invaders have worked their wicked 
 wills and departed. Thus it was not for 
 its beauty of situation, nor for its fashion- 
 able society, nor even for the far-famed 
 table d'hote to be found at its principal 
 boarding-house, Lucullus Mansion, that Mr. 
 Angelo Hulet visited Balcombe, but for 
 its climate and " aspects," which last — to 
 judge by its guide-book, edited by " a dis- 
 tinguished physician " — were (one or other
 
 io6 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 of them) beneficial to every description of 
 human malady. 
 
 On Number One hill you found a more 
 certain cure for dyspepsia than even the 
 Revalenta Arabica ; on Number Two the 
 coats of the stomach were renovated as 
 quickly as any old '' swallow-tail " sub- 
 jected to the tailor's iron ; on Number 
 Three you took your stand — or were en- 
 abled to take it after a day or two — and de- 
 fied gout ; on Number Four, though you 
 might have arrived there speechless from 
 bronchitis, in a few weeks you could com- 
 municate verbally with your friends on the 
 pier below without the aid of a speaking- 
 trumpet ; and so on. But all the seven 
 hills and all their "aspects" were equally 
 good for the nerves. To a hale and hearty 
 stranger, indeed, arriving in this recupe- 
 rating spot for the first time, the idea was 
 apt to occur to him that it was raining. Be- 
 tween myself and the reader, I may remark
 
 BALCOMBE. 107 
 
 that It does rain at Balcombe six days out 
 of every seven, and is very near doing it on 
 the seventh ; but this the inhabitants deny. 
 All the people with nerves, and all the 
 people with gout, and all the people with 
 indifferent coats to their stomachs — every- 
 body, in fact, except the consumptive pa- 
 tients — come out in the rain without um- 
 brellas, and protest that there is " nothing 
 falling," not even the barometer. It is 
 a very warm and gentle rain, no doubt, 
 but it wets you very thoroughly unless you 
 have a waterproof, and my suspicion is 
 that these boastful cripples, like the gentle- 
 man who didn't mind fighting duels be- 
 cause he had a shirt made of chain armour, 
 wear waterproofs under their clothes. And 
 yet they are no perjurers, for just as an 
 Irishman (when he is well away from it) 
 paints his own country in all honesty as an 
 agreeable dwelling-place, so they believe 
 what they say. There is an esprit de corps
 
 io8 AT HER MERC Y. 
 
 among the Balcombe invalids, which com- 
 pels them to swear through thick and thin 
 by their adopted home, and to take the 
 guide-book by the " distinguished phy- 
 sician " (a most dexterous manipulator of 
 the statistics of rain -fall) as gospel. Nay, 
 the local enthusiasm seizes even upon their 
 new recruits, and no sooner did Mr. Angela 
 Hulet find himself located at Lucullus Man- 
 sion, than he pronounced himself ''quite 
 another man." He had evidently, how- 
 ever, no intention of dispensing with his 
 former infallible remedies in the way of 
 drugs and potions, for he had already set 
 them out in his own apartment, in admirable 
 disorder, and taken a good pull at a tonic 
 made of dandelions, and much recommended 
 after travel. Thus refreshed, he sat down 
 at the open window, and looked out on 
 sky, and sea, and shore with a sentimental 
 air ; it was enjoined by the label on the 
 dandelion bottle to keep himself quiet after
 
 BALCOMBE. 109 
 
 taking that subtle essence, but it was not 
 on that account that he sat so still and 
 thoughtful. 
 
 Mr. Angelo Hulet had visited Balcombe 
 • — not for its '' aspects," nor its climate — 
 nearly forty years ago, when he was young 
 and vigorous, and never needed so much 
 as a glass of sherry and bitters to give him 
 '* a tone ;" when his head was covered with 
 curling locks, that required no careful 
 arrangement of the comb to hide his bald- 
 ness ; when his hand was steady with his 
 gun among the stubble, and only trembled 
 at the touch of beauty ; when — 
 
 " Ah, doleful When 
 
 That marked the change 'twixt now and then i" 
 
 How aptly could he have gone on to 
 quote : 
 
 " This breathing house not built with hands, 
 This body that does me grievous wrong, 
 O'er airy cliffs and glittering sands, 
 How lightly Then it flashed along ! 
 Nought cared this body for wind nor weather, 
 When Youth and I lived in't together !'*
 
 no AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Mr. Angelo Hiilet had never been given 
 to poetry even In his youth, but something 
 like the foregoing was In his mind as he re- 
 garded the unchanging sea by which he 
 had wandered nearly half a century before, 
 not without a meet companion. The 
 thoughts of forty years ago, indeed, are 
 enough to make a poet of an attorney. 
 
 In the next room to his own sat Evy, 
 looking on the same fair sights, but with 
 far other thoughts. Her hand clasped 
 Jack's last letter, the one in which he had 
 bidden farewell to her for six months, but 
 in hopeful words. The old lord had re- 
 fused his consent Indeed, but on the whole 
 had received the news of his engagement 
 with more patience than he had antici- 
 pated. Time might do much for them ; 
 and meanwhile, though forbidden to speak 
 or write, his dream by night, his thought 
 by day, would be of his darling Evy. She 
 tried to believe this, or at all events to
 
 BALCOMBE. in 
 
 believe that he would not forget her, or be 
 false to her, but It was hard to do so, for 
 she was a very sensible young woman. 
 She well knew that, even among men, not 
 three in a thousand were like her uncle, 
 uninfluenced by the attractions of social 
 position, and that among women the pro- 
 portion was even less ; that every young 
 lady in Dunwich was setting her cap — or 
 her chignon — at the captain ; and that 
 wherever he went the heir-presumptive of 
 Lord Dirleton would be the object of 
 matrimonial ambition. True, she had won 
 his heart — a feat that in her modesty she 
 thought astonishing; but was it not likely that 
 some other, fairer, nobler, better than she, 
 would win it from her ? Her uncle evidently 
 thought so ; deemed that this young man's 
 love was but a passing fancy, or he would 
 not have imposed this ordeal of separation ; 
 and Jack's uncle thought the same. She 
 should always love him, of course ; she
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 would carry that little locket with his hair 
 in It, that she was now covering with 
 kisses, to the grave ; but was it to be ex- 
 pected that he would be equally faithful ? 
 Kind-hearted Mrs. Melllsh had hinted to 
 her by delicate indirect allusion to the 
 necessity of finding happiness in one's 
 own home, that It was not to be expected' 
 and Doctor Burne had told her so more 
 plainly. The rector only had given her 
 comfort. 
 
 For In their " good-byes " they had all 
 spoken of the matter without reserve. 
 " Jack has a sound heart, my dear," Mr. 
 Melllsh had whispered in her ear, ** and will 
 never prove a snob." A snob, indeed ! No, 
 that was Impossible ; but without showing 
 himself in that light It was very possible 
 that he might repent of his hasty engage- 
 ment, or be persuaded by his uncle to have 
 a due regard to his own interests, which 
 indeed she had herself besought him not to
 
 BALCOMBE. 113 
 
 sacrifice on her account. She was not 
 sorry to come away from Dunwich — ^a 
 place she had once wished to live and die 
 in, and which to her mind had still no 
 equal. Its own surpassing beauty seemed 
 indeed now doubled, tinged as it was with 
 the hues of first love. 
 
 " From end to end 
 Of all the landscape underneath, 
 There was no place that did not breathe 
 Some gracious memory " — 
 
 of him. But it would have been terrible 
 to remain there with him so near, and yet 
 forbidden to see him. She did not expect 
 to find pleasure in Balcombe, but at all 
 events it would be without the pain of fond 
 regret. And how very, very beautiful it 
 looked in that autumn evening ! Lucullus 
 Mansion was an edifice of considerable 
 pretension, standing in its own grounds, 
 with a stone terrace round three sides of It, 
 and a lawn called '' the garden," and which 
 would really have been a garden, but that 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 it was SO Steep that the flower beds, that 
 ran down to the sea, from which it was 
 separated only by a low wall, could not 
 stick on to it, but were washed away by the 
 unceasing drizzle. To the eastward lay 
 the open ocean dotted with a large white 
 sail or two, and with a whole fleet of little 
 red ones, which were the fishing boats 
 bound for home. On the south was the 
 harbour, a scene of lively movement and 
 harmonious sound. 
 
 Evy's glance wandered listlessly from 
 one fair object to another for some minutes, 
 then she sighed and took out a little book 
 on which her eyes rivetted themselves with 
 a very different expression. It was not a 
 poem on which they were fixed, though 
 they grew soft and tender ; it was not a 
 prayer, though there was something of 
 devotion in them ; it was a mere date and 
 a few words extracted from a racing 
 calendar :
 
 BALCOMBE. 115 
 
 " April 4th, Balcombe steeplechases.'' 
 She was still gazing on this memoran- 
 dum when there came a knock at the door, 
 and a female voice was heard asking in 
 persuasive accents, permission to enter : 
 '' My dear young lady," it said, ''may I — ■ 
 Fm Mrs. Hodlin Barmby — come in ?" 
 But though Evy answered " Yes," Mrs. 
 Hodlin Barmby is much too important a 
 personage to be introduced at the end of a 
 chapter.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 
 
 EADER, have you ever lived in 
 lodgings ? If so, you cannot 
 fail to have observed that your 
 landlady is in the enjoyment of all those 
 " Woman's Rights " for which so many of 
 her sisterhood are so vainly clamorous ; 
 that her domestic sway is supreme, and 
 that her husband is very literally " no- 
 where." If you see him at all (which is 
 unusual), it is always in a subordinate ca- 
 pacity ; if you hear him address his wife — 
 '* answer " her in the sense that that 
 '* hussey," the servant girl understands the
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 117 
 
 phrase, he never does — it is in meek and 
 deferential accents. Under the course of 
 treatment to which he is subjected, he not 
 seldom succumbs altogether, which is why 
 so many landladies are widows ; but if he 
 lives, he plays second fiddle in the matri- 
 monial duet. If, being yourself a lady, and 
 interested in the triumphs of your sex, you 
 inquire of his wife how this most desirable 
 state of things has been brought about, she 
 will plump down, uninvited, on the nearest 
 chair, begin to rock herself to and fro, and 
 presently burst into tears. *' He'd need do 
 all he could, ma'am," she explains, ''and 
 never cross me in anything while the breath 
 is in him, for when I married him, I was 
 well-to-do in the world, and he has brought 
 ruin upon me." 
 
 It may have been drink, or it may have 
 been a passion for bagatelle, or even skit- 
 tles (for some men are very low in their 
 tastes) ; but he has spent her money, and
 
 ii8 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 surely the least he can do in reparation is 
 to constitute himself her slave. In China 
 the villain would probably have lost him- 
 self, after all else was ^one, to some anta- 
 gonist at cards or dice ; but that being im- 
 possible in a civilized country, his services 
 are his ruined wife's — '^ and very little use, 
 heaven knows, he is to me." 
 
 Now Lucullus Mansion was a glorified 
 lodging-house, the very pink and perfection 
 of one, but still a lodging-house — and what 
 holds good of the least holds good of the 
 lordliest, in such cases ; its mistress, Mrs. 
 Hodlin Barmby, had been ruined by the 
 husband over whom she now reigned. This 
 mischance had not been owing to bagatelle, 
 nor yet to skittles. Mr. Hodlin Barmby 
 was a gentleman by birth and taste, and 
 had lost his wife's money where he had 
 lost his own, years before, in a gentlemanly 
 way, on Epsom Dov/ns. He was the 
 younger son of a baronet, and had had but
 
 A NE W PROFESSION. 1 1 9 
 
 four thousand pounds to lose, but such 
 was his impulsive nature and so broad his 
 views, that he would have got rid with 
 equal facility of forty thousand. The loss 
 of his own patrimony affected him very 
 little, but that of his wife's went to his 
 heart. "■ My dear," said he, on the even- 
 ing of that fatal Derby, " I have been a 
 selfish scoundrel. You have only to en- 
 dorse that statement, and I'll blow out 
 
 my 
 
 *' Stop, Charles !" cried his wife impera- 
 tively (up to that hour she had been the 
 mildest of women, and permitted him to 
 have his own way in everything). *' You 
 have shown that there is nothing of that 
 description to blow out ; there is no use in 
 crying over spilt milk, but henceforth, 
 permit me to manage matters. Will you 
 do as I tell you, and let me hold our 
 ' purse-strings in case there may be one day 
 anything in it ?"
 
 120 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 *' My dear," said he, with all the solem- 
 nity of which he was master, " with all my 
 worldly goods — if I ever have any — I thee 
 endow. It is true I said that once before ; 
 but the obligations of the marriage service 
 have a certain legal compulsion about them, 
 like a tradesman's bill, which is offensive 
 to a man of honour ; this time you have my 
 word as a gentleman. Henceforth I am 
 entirely in your hands." 
 
 " Very good, Charles," rejoined his wife, 
 who never gave him one word of reproach 
 for having ruined her, except what was 
 implied in that form of address ; up to that 
 time she had always called him " Charley," 
 but henceforth that playful diminutive was 
 denied to him ; the position she designed 
 for him did not permit of it. " Very good, 
 Charles ; I feel confident you will never re- 
 pent it. You are doubtless surprised at my 
 receiving your bad news so coolly, but the 
 fact is, the catastrophe is only what I ex-
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 121 
 
 pected would happen sooner or later, even 
 at the moment when I accepted you." 
 
 '' The deuce you did 1" exclaimed her 
 husband. 
 
 " Yes, Charles," she went on, '' a woman 
 is always a fool when she is in love ; but 
 she is not always unconscious of the fact. 
 However, as I say, I knew you would come 
 to grief, as you had done before, and I 
 laid my plans for this emergency long ago. 
 I don't say, mind, that they will recover 
 the twenty thousand you dropped on Epsom 
 Downs to-day — but if they succeed as I 
 expect they will do, they will enable us to 
 live in comfort." 
 
 " That would be more than I deserve," 
 said Mr. Hodlin Barmby, meekly. 
 
 ** Listen, Charles. You are not a clever 
 man, but you are very nice. Everybody 
 likes you, and would do anything for you, 
 if they could, short of dipping their hands 
 into their pockets "
 
 122 AT HER MERC V. 
 
 " I shouldn't like them to do that," put in 
 Mr. Barmby, reddening. 
 
 '' You have nothing to do with it, sir," 
 replied the lady, firmly. '' Please to re- 
 member that it is I who am manag^er now. 
 As it happens, however, we are agreed upon 
 this point — I do not intend to be under 
 obligations to anybody. Let us add up our 
 assets. You have, on your side, social 
 popularity and some judgment in wines and 
 horses. I, on my part, understand how to 
 keep house, to give really good dinners, 
 and to set people at ease with one another. 
 Now you, and many persons w^ho have 
 money to spare, have often told me that at 
 the very best hotels — as they are at present 
 managed — you get nothing fit to eat and 
 are half poisoned by the wines. The master 
 and mistress, being themselves only fourth- 
 rate people, cannot of course be expected 
 to know what persons of position are accus- 
 tomed to in their own houses, and are only
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 123 
 
 bent on getting so much a head out of 
 every meal." 
 
 " Good gracious !" ejaculated her hus- 
 band, arranging his shirt-collar, " we are 
 ^oing to keep an inn. I see the sign before 
 my eyes. The Pig and Periwinkle. Hodlin 
 Barmby ; licensed retailer of spirits." 
 
 " No, Charles, we are not. If you were 
 a wiser man, we might, indeed, take the 
 Star and Garter at Richmond, and make 
 our fortune ; but I anticipated your con- 
 ventional objections to such a scheme. We 
 must content ourselves with a fashionable 
 boarding-house. You will superintend the 
 wine department, look after the men-ser- 
 vants, and preside at the table d'hote. 
 As the son of a baronet — to which circum- 
 stance you must make constant allusion — 
 you will attract the small deer in crowds ; 
 while our own friends will rally round us, 
 at first for our own sake, and afterwards 
 because they will find themselves ten times
 
 124 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 more comfortable at Lucullus Mansion than 
 elsewhere. I fixed on the name six months 
 ago, ever since you told me you had put 
 the ' pot ' on Lucullus, who, Lord George 
 informed me, was named after a Roman 
 gourmand. The house is that large hotel 
 that we stayed at during our honeymoon at 
 Balcombe, and which has been advertised 
 for sale these three weeks. Of course, we 
 can't buy it, but I have no doubt I can 
 make some arrangement for carrying it on 
 for the next year or so." 
 
 " But where is the money to come from^ 
 my good woman ?" 
 
 " The money, sir ? Do you know how 
 Rothschild made his money ? Entirely by 
 confining himself to his own affairs. Pray 
 don't let me have to remind you for the 
 third time of the change in our positions." 
 
 And thus it was that Mrs. Hodlin 
 Barmby became the tenant of Lucullus 
 Mansion. Some say an uncle of hers who
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 125 
 
 had made his fortune in trade, and had 
 looked very coldly on her in her days of 
 prosperous dissipation, lent her the money 
 for this useful purpose ; others assert that 
 she had always kept a few hundred pounds 
 of her own against that '* rainy day " which 
 she had foreseen only too clearly ; and one 
 or two scandalous persons will have it that 
 it came from Lord George. To these last 
 I give the lie direct. Mrs. Hodlin Barmby 
 was as honest as she was pretty, and Lord 
 George Despard was as poor as he was 
 unprincipled — a comparison which to those 
 who know him implies that he had not a 
 single penny. His "countenance," how- 
 ever, was invaluable to the new specula- 
 tion, of which he good-naturedly appointed 
 himself tout in ordinary ; and he even 
 brought Lady George herself — with whom 
 he was not accustomed to travel — to shed 
 a social lustre on the establishment in its 
 first season. By this time, thanks to the
 
 126 AT HER MERC V. 
 
 tactics of its female manager, it was a very 
 thriving concern, and most deservedly so. 
 Living, indeed, was far from cheap at 
 Lucullus Mansion, but on the other hand 
 it was not only good, but excellent. The 
 gravy soups did not remind you of beef- 
 tea. The entrees were to be eaten, not 
 passed untasted ; the wines (even the port) 
 were to be drunk, and nothing was to be 
 avoided save the taking too much of them. 
 The house was always full during the two 
 seasons of which Balcombe boasted, and 
 which extended respectively from the be- 
 ginning of November to the end of April, 
 and from the beginning of May to the end 
 of October, and Mr. Hodlin Barmby was 
 never without a ten-pound note in his 
 pocket to spend as he pleased. He kept 
 his word to his wife ; never disobeyed her ; 
 never interfered with her arrangements ; 
 and always " knew his place," which, when 
 not at the head of his table d'hote, was a
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 127 
 
 very subordinate one. At the same time 
 he was not without his uses. Disagreeable 
 things will happen even in the best regu- 
 lated households ; gentlemen sometimes 
 came to the mansion who fancied that their 
 length of purse permitted them to find 
 fault without occasion, and to take other 
 unaccountable liberties. To these Mr. 
 Barmby presented in person a printed card 
 with the following inscription : " H. B., 
 
 presents his compliments to , and 
 
 while thanking him for his past patronage 
 begs respectfully to decline a continuance 
 of it after to-morrow at noon, at which 
 hour Number — (the apartment of the 
 offender) has been bespoken by a gentle- 
 
 Mr. Hodlin Barmby was six feet two in 
 his stockings, besides being, as we have 
 already hinted, the son of a baronet, and 
 this combination of physical and moral 
 force never failed in its desired effect. If
 
 128 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 any lady misconducted herself, or (as hap- 
 pened once or twice) arrived as a privateer 
 under the false colours of respectability, 
 Mrs. Hodlin Barmby needed no assistance 
 to settle that little matter ; she was five 
 feet ten in her — well in her evening shoes, 
 and the co-heiress of a most respectable 
 county clergyman, who had made forty 
 thousand pounds in mines ; and if one of 
 these two female antagonists happened to 
 be taken with hysterics, it was never Mrs. 
 H. B., let me assure you, but the other. 
 
 And yet upon ordinary occasions no- 
 thing could be more agreeable and even 
 winning than the excellent hostess of Lu- 
 cullus Mansion. When she entered our 
 heroine's apartment now, in answer to the 
 latter's courteous *' Pray come in," Evy 
 thought she had never beheld a handsomer 
 or more kindly-looking woman. 
 
 " Pardon this intrusion. Miss Carthew," 
 said she, " but it is my duty, as your land-
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 129 
 
 lady, to ask whether you have all you 
 want — you are dressed, I see. Else if I 
 could have helped you, I should have been 
 very glad. One never gets proper atten- 
 tion from one's own maid on the first day 
 of one's arrival anywhere — or at least that 
 used to be my experience, when I kept a 
 maid." 
 
 Evy's own personal attendant had in 
 fact been so occupied in getting her tea, 
 and making her acquaintances below stairs, 
 that she had neglected to visit her young 
 mistress until she was far advanced with 
 her toilet, and occupied as Evy was with 
 her own tender thoughts, she had declined 
 her services and dismissed her. 
 
 *' I have got on very well Mrs. Barmby, 
 thank you," said Evy; "and find every- 
 thing very nice, quite as nice as in one's 
 own home, just as your old friend Mrs. 
 Mellish told me I should do. By-the-by, 
 I have a note for you from her, which in 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 I30 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 the hurry of our arrival I forgot to give 
 you downstairs." 
 
 While Mrs. Barmby read it, Evy took 
 stock of her, as women are wont to do of 
 one another. How tastefully, yet quietly, 
 she was dressed ; and what a perfect lady 
 she looked in that gray silk trimmed with 
 black lace, an attire rather too matronly 
 perhaps for so young a woman — she was 
 not more than thirty-two at worst — but 
 still that was a fault on the right side. 
 She would grow too stout in time, doubt- 
 less, but at present, her figure was splendid, 
 and if all that beautiful hair was her own 
 — and it really looked as if it was — she 
 had more than Evy herself had, though 
 being of a lighter brown, it made less show. 
 What long lashes her eyes had, and — but, 
 surely they were wet with tears ! 
 
 Evy was not mistaken, there was some- 
 thing in that little note which had set stout 
 Mrs. Barmby crying.
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 131 
 
 " It must seem very foolish, dear Miss 
 Carthew,'' explained she, " for a person in 
 ;my position to give way to sentiment, but 
 I have not seen Mary Mellish — she was 
 Mary Newcombe then — for these fifteen 
 years. We were great allies at school, 
 and it was not likely that I should forget 
 her, of course ; but I didn't expect her to 
 remember ^ne, or at all events to write so 
 very kindly. Such things don't happen 
 to me every day, I assure you. ^ You 
 must make a friend of her — that's of you, 
 Miss Carthew,' Mary says, ' for my sake !' 
 May I ?" 
 
 '' I am sure, Mrs. Barmby, I hope you 
 will," said Evy, earnestly. 
 
 *' Did Mrs. Mellish tell you about me— 
 I mean about my little antecedents — my 
 dear ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Evy, blushing. 
 
 " Come, that's a comfort," exclaimed the 
 other, simply. '' I know it's very weak
 
 132 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 and foolish in me, but I do like ladles who 
 come here to know something about who 
 I was. Not that I was anything to boast 
 of, but only that they shouldn't ask me, 
 so very sharply at the outset, whether the 
 beds are aired, and if there Isn't some re- 
 duction In our charges In case they have 
 their luncheons out. Of course yoic 
 wouldn't have done It ; my Instinct told 
 me that you were just what Mary describes 
 you to be, and seeing you so young and 
 winsome — just such a one, I thought, as 
 the only child we ever had might have 
 grown up to be by this time, had she lived 
 — I made bold to come and see you In 
 your room, my dear." 
 
 " That was very kind of you," said 
 Evy, " and, to tell the truth, I was rather 
 alarmed at the prospect of going down to 
 the table d'hote, without knowing anybody 
 there." 
 
 " You shall sit next to me, my dear, and
 
 A NEW PROFESSION, 133 
 
 your uncle shall be on the other side of 
 you, if you please," said Mrs. Barmby, as- 
 suringly, " though I did intend it to be the 
 other way, in which case you would have 
 had Mr. de Coucy for your neighbour, a 
 most charming old gentleman. He will 
 probably propose to you in a day or two, 
 but you must not mind that." 
 
 "But I think I shall mindit very much!" 
 ^ejaculated Evy, with unfeigned alarm. 
 
 " Oh, no, you won't, when you have 
 seen a little of him. It's only a way he 
 has with all young ladies ; and when you 
 have refused him — as of course you will 
 do — it will not make a bit of difference in 
 his pleasant talk (for he is a most agree- 
 able man), and it will only amuse you the 
 more to see him laying siege to somebody 
 else. He is a thorough gentleman at 
 heart, besides being very well connected ; 
 he's first cousin to Lord Dirleton, who
 
 134 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 lives in your neighbourhood, by-the-by, and 
 whom you doubtless know." 
 
 " I have seen him," said Evy, conscious 
 that she was growing very red; ''but I 
 cannot say I know him. — Will there be 
 many people at the table d'hote to-day ?" 
 
 ''Well, my dear, about fifty." Mrs. 
 Barmby took out a slip of paper, with a 
 list of names very neatly written out, and 
 referred to it. " Yes ; there are fifty- 
 three, which, unless somebody omits to 
 come at the last moment — I hope it will 
 be that Mr. Paragon — will make us a little 
 lopsided. Come down as soon as the first 
 bell rings, and you will find me waiting 
 for you — and then you will not be flustered 
 by the mob of people. And, lest I should 
 forget it when the time comes, don't pass 
 the kromeskies, nor the creme renversee, 
 my dear, whatever you do, for they're 
 perfection, though perhaps I ought not to 
 say so." And with that farewell word of
 
 A NEW PROFESSION. 135 
 
 advice, and a reassuring smile, Mrs. Hod- 
 lin Barmby sailed majestically out of the 
 room, like a frigate parting from her 
 convoy. 
 
 The idea of sittinof next but one to Mr. 
 de Coucy fluttered Evy not a little ; not 
 because he was likely to make her an offer 
 of marriage, though that^ was a little em- 
 barrassing, but because his relationship to 
 Lord Dirleton made him first cousin once 
 removed to her own dear Jack. Every- 
 thing else sank into insignificance before 
 that tremendous fact. If she could only 
 get him to talk of Jack, without his sus- 
 pecting her tender interest in the topic, 
 how very nice that would be ; and yet, if 
 she blushed as she had done just now, how 
 could he help suspecting ? 
 
 Here was another knock at the door, and 
 in came Uncle Angelo with a pill-box in 
 his hand. 
 
 " Do you think it would excite general
 
 136 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 observation, Evy," inquired he, " If I were 
 to take one of these little pills between the 
 courses ?" 
 
 " Indeed, I do think it would, dear 
 uncle," answered Evy, appealingly. 
 
 ** Very good, my dear ; then I suppose I 
 must be content with my Vichy water, 
 and the elixir after dinner, for nobody 
 will know that from sherry unless by the 
 smell." 
 
 Here the first dinner-bell sounded, and 
 Evy laid her small hand, which trembled 
 not a little, on her uncle's arm, and de- 
 scended to the salle-a-manger.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN WHICH MR. ANGELO HULET IS " UPSET.' 
 
 HE public dinner at Lucullus 
 Mansion was a very different 
 affair from English tables d'hote 
 in general, where folks converse in cliques, 
 and glare at their vis-a-vis, or, silent as 
 fishes, preserve a severe, but sad decorum, 
 befitting a Csesar when making his arrange- 
 ments for perishing decently. After the 
 company was seated, each person was here 
 introduced to his or her neighbour, by 
 either the master or the mistress of the 
 ceremonies, and the character of an ordi- 
 nary dinner-party was imparted to the
 
 138 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 affair as much as possible. Mr. Hodlin 
 Barm by, a broad-shouldered '* acred" look- 
 ing gentleman, did the honours at the 
 bottom of the table, and looked the genial 
 host to perfection ; he was not eloquent — 
 unless you got him on a horse — but was- 
 always ready to come to the rescue of the 
 conversation with the weather and the 
 crops ; and if it needed a dead lift, had 
 only to look towards his better half, in a 
 concerted manner, for the required assist- 
 ance. He had his orders to refer to " my 
 father. Sir Hesketh," when any new comer 
 was present, but in other respects was very 
 wisely permitted to take his own line ; it 
 any exceptional people were at table — 
 whom a reference to the prospects for the 
 next Derby was likely to shock — Mrs. 
 Barmby took care to place them in her 
 own neighbourhood. Under these cir- 
 cumstances the host had generally the 
 pick of the company about him, while the
 
 MR. ANGELO HULET IS " UPSETP 139 
 
 hostess was surrounded with the feebler 
 sort, who required colloquial manipulation. 
 On the present occasion, however, there 
 were none of what Mrs. Barmby was 
 wont to term her " delicate cases" at table, 
 to whom the ''doctrine" preached from 
 the Balcombe pulpit was even more at- 
 tractive than its '' aspects ;" and only one 
 pair of 'May figures" — a banker from the 
 City, reputed to be worth half a million, 
 and his wife, who was said to have money 
 of her own in the concern, and who main- 
 tained a financially phlegmatic air upon 
 the strength of it. These sat on Mrs. 
 Barmby's right, and next to them Mr. 
 Paragon, an Australian colonist, who had 
 come to England to spend in horseflesh 
 what he had amassed by sheep, and who 
 would have given his horseshoe scarf-pin 
 to have been sitting beside Mr. Barmby, 
 instead of between prim Mrs. Bullion and 
 Mrs. General Storks, of the United States 
 
 /
 
 I40 A T HER MERCY. 
 
 army, who made up for the silence of her 
 other neighbour by a constant stream of 
 inquiries concerning the progress of civi- 
 lization in the Antipodes, to which he was 
 very far from being in a position, either 
 from personal experience or otherwise, to 
 reply. 
 
 Mrs. General Storks was a rich widow, 
 by no means without good looks, and 
 though, as Mr. Barmby characteristically 
 observed, '' her voice was a little high up, 
 and her dress a little low down, had her 
 heart in the right place," as, perhaps, we 
 may have some opportunities of observing 
 for ourselves. On Mrs. Barmby's left was 
 Mr. Hulet, who had himself placed his 
 niece upon his other hand, in order, as he 
 said, not to destroy the symmetry of the 
 table by putting two ladies together ; but 
 also as I shrewdly suspect, with a view to 
 taking his dinner medicines with the 
 greater secrecy ; for Mrs. Barmby, he rea-
 
 MR. ANGELO HULET IS " UPSETS 141 
 
 soned, would naturally endeavour to screen 
 the peculiarities of a guest from observa- 
 tion, while a male stranger might sniff at 
 the elixir, and ask what on earth it was. 
 So, after all, Evy found herself next to 
 Mr. De Coucy. 
 
 He was a man of at least three score, but 
 still handsome and upright, and though 
 dressed in sober black, like a clergyman, 
 had an unmistakably soldier-like appear- 
 ance ; indeed, in his youth he had served, 
 and not without distinction, in the Austrian 
 army, which he had quitted upon the de- 
 mise of a relative who had left him a con- 
 siderable fortune ; his manner and speech 
 were courtly to excess, and on one thin 
 white finger, which he had a habit of 
 laying on his cheek, in order, perhaps, to 
 attract public attention, glittered an eme- 
 rald gem of about two thousand years old^ 
 which he prized as Lord John Russell prizes
 
 142 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 the old Reform Bill, or Garibaldi his 
 plighted word. 
 
 " You are looking at my ring," he would 
 say, if his neighbour omitted to take any 
 notice of it, " and, indeed, it is somewhat 
 worthy of your attention." And then he 
 would go on to state, at considerable length, 
 liow it had been engraved by Pyrgoteles 
 for Alexander. 
 
 Beyond him sat Mrs. Sophia Mercer, a 
 washed-out but lady-like looking per- 
 sonage, evidently come to Balcombe for 
 the " aspects," and Miss Judith Mercer, a 
 girl of eighteen — a little gipsy of great 
 beauty, and with no more resemblance 
 to her aunt than a carnation has to a 
 daffodil. 
 
 " What a very beautiful girl you have 
 for your neighbour," whispered Evy, with 
 reference to this young lady, after the ice 
 had been broken between Mr. De Coucy 
 and herself, by a little talk about Balcombe.
 
 MR. ANGELO HULET IS " UPSET." 143 
 
 "It is certain you can afford to say so, 
 -Miss Carthew," returned the old gentle- 
 man, gallantly ; " but do you really think 
 her good-looking ? I have got into quite 
 •a hornet's nest here for asserting as 
 much." 
 
 The gay old Lothario forgot to add 
 what was the fact (though, to do him jus- 
 tice, he bore her no malice on that account), 
 that Miss Judith herself had stung him by 
 a refusal of his hand and gem. 
 
 " I think her charming," said Eva, 
 frankly ; " is that her mam " 
 
 Here Mrs. Eleanor Mercer, who, with 
 lier niece, had been engaged in conversa- 
 tion with some folks on the other side of 
 them, leaned forward and looked round 
 towards Evy ; doubtless somebody had 
 passed a similar admiring observation re- 
 specting the latter, to that which she her- 
 self had made upon Miss Judith, and the 
 old lady was curious to behold the newly-
 
 144 -4r HER MERCY. 
 
 arrived belle. She was very near-sighted, 
 and had to adjust a pair of gold eye-glasses 
 before making the desired reconnaissance^ 
 which gave Eva, on the other hand, an 
 opportunity of observing her. A pale- 
 faced, and rather freckled female, with 
 dollish blue eyes, was Mrs. Eleanor, but 
 she had a gentle and pleasant expression, 
 too, which rayed out into downright ad- 
 miration as she gazed on Eva's blush-tinged 
 cheeks and down-drooped eyes. 
 
 " Heaven have mercy upon us," gasped 
 Mr. Hulet, sofdy. 
 
 " What is the matter, uncle ?" inquired 
 Evy, in alarm, for that gentleman had 
 fallen back in his chair, with a scarlet 
 countenance, and was pressing his hand 
 to his heart. 
 
 " One of my spasms, dear, that's all ,* 
 don't take any.notice," replied Mr. Hulet, 
 in a hurried whisper. " What a mercy it 
 was that I brought my elixir." Then there
 
 MR. ANGELO HULET IS " UPSET:' 145 
 
 was a faint pop of a cork under the table, 
 and an odour, unhappily not so faint, began 
 to pervade his neighbourhood, as though 
 a chemist's shop had been suddenly 
 opened. 
 
 '' No, that is not Miss Judith's mamma," 
 returned Mr. De Coucy, in answer to Evy's 
 unfinished inquiry ; *' it's her aunt, and 
 they are the very antipodes of one another. 
 The one is, so to speak, faded and washed 
 ■out, while the other is a very fast colour. 
 How demure is the elder lady, how au- 
 dacious the younger. A herald would 
 call one a pelican in her piety, and the 
 other a peacock in his pride — affronte you 
 know — but perhaps you have not studied 
 heraldry." 
 
 "No, indeed," answered Evy, a little 
 distracted with anxiety upon her uncle's 
 account ; '* it always seems to me very 
 fooHsh." 
 
 "Foolish! Heraldry foolish! My dear 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 young lady!" And Mr. De Coucy held 
 both his hands up (palm inwards, so as 
 to keep the gem before the Public Eye), 
 and threw his head back, as though some- 
 body had clapped an ice-bag to his 
 spine. 
 
 " My uncle always says there's nothing 
 in it," explained Evy, apologetically ; " he 
 defines a crest to be * a couple of jackasses 
 fighting for a piece of gilt gingerbread,*" 
 and declares all the mottoes are made by 
 the pastrycooks." 
 
 " My dear young lady," continued Mr. 
 De Coucy, repeating that form of address 
 with considerable unction, for it was his 
 ingenious plan, when bent on conquest, to 
 use his years as a stalking-horse ; the 
 " young lady '' was first made accustomed 
 to his paternally affectionate manner, and 
 then on that agreeable foundation he made 
 his approaches as a lover. " My dear 
 young lady, your uncle deserves to be
 
 MR. ANGELO HULET IS " UPSET:' 147 
 
 erased, as the king-at-arms would call it — 
 cut off from society with a jagged edge ; 
 but it is terrible to think that an innocent '* 
 — he was going to say ''angel," but he 
 durst not — *' young creature like yourself 
 should grow up in such a damnable — don't 
 be shocked, I take the expression from the 
 thirty-nine articles — such a damnable 
 heresy. If you would do me the honour 
 of being my pupil for half an hour per 
 diem for the next fortnight, I would an- 
 swer for bringing you round to a very dif- 
 ferent opinion. As for heraldry being a 
 useless science, nothing can be a greater 
 mistake. Take up that spoon for in- 
 stance, and tell me what you see in it ? 
 No, no, not in the bowl, for that would 
 only show you a caricature of beauty, but 
 in the handle." 
 
 *' I see a stag walking," said Evy, quite 
 unable to avoid a smile at the old gentle- 
 man's compliment, which was accompanied 
 
 10 — 2
 
 148 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 by a little bow in case It should have es- 
 caped her attention. 
 
 ** Nay, pardon me, a stag is never walk- 
 ing in heraldry, but trippant. Moreover, 
 it is not a stag but an antelope." 
 
 " But antelopes have not got double 
 tails, and a tusk at the top of their nose T 
 said Evy, silly. 
 
 " Yes, they have — in heraldry. Now I 
 should know that that was Barmby's spoon 
 if I met with it in Otaheite. The cogni- 
 zance has its origin in a circumstance that 
 occurred in the family about 1480, and 
 which is hereby commemorated by a sort 
 of quaint pun, much affected in the heral- 
 dry of that period. Sir Gerald Barmby's 
 mint eloped when a young widow with 
 Edward the Fourth (you remember how 
 weak he was with respect to widows), by 
 whose royal favour he became subse- 
 quently raised " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," interrupted Evy,
 
 MR. ANGELO HULET IS " UPSET." 149 
 
 gently, " but I think the ladies are going." 
 And, indeed, that stiffening and rustling 
 of silk were very audible, which be- 
 token the preening of the female wing for 
 flight. 
 
 *' You are coming to the ladies' drawing- 
 room, I hope, Miss Carthew," said Mrs. 
 Barmby, pleadingly, as she rose from her 
 chair. 
 
 " Thank you," replied she, with a hesi- 
 tating look towards her uncle, *' I don't 
 think I will to-day." 
 
 '* Yes, yes, go by all means," said Mr. 
 Hulet, hurriedly. '* It is well you should 
 begin to make acquaintances. I will join 
 you when I have finished my — hem" — he 
 tapped his little bottle of elixir — '' my 
 Madeira." 
 
 This was one of the most powerful re- 
 storatives in her uncle's medicine list, and 
 she had never known him take more than a 
 single dose of it before, save once, upon
 
 ISO AT HER MERCY. 
 
 the occasion of Lord DIrleton's visit. 
 What could have happened to have upset 
 him to such an extent that he was about to 
 drink a bottle ?
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN THE ladies' DRAWING-ROOM, 
 
 ^^ffllHE ladles' drawing-room at Lu- 
 ^1^1 cullus Mansion, though a large 
 -■■^■^ and handsome apartment, had 
 not that stiff and formal air which belongs to 
 its congener at a fashionable hotel. It was 
 intended not only for show but for use, and 
 thanks to Mrs. Hodlin Barmby's tact, even 
 more than to the books and photographs, 
 the besique boxes and chessboards, the 
 comfortable ottomans and sofas, with which 
 she had provided it, it was used. A hostess 
 may provide conversation chairs, but can- 
 not make her company talk — especially if
 
 152 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 it is a mixed one, and mostly strangers to 
 one another — without some address ; no, 
 nor even sit in them, or else we should not 
 find so many public drawing-rooms not 
 only silent but empty. 
 
 At most hotels in England those who 
 have private sitting-rooms prefer to make 
 use of them in place of joining the general 
 company, and those who have not that ex- 
 pensive luxury, often endeavour, by their 
 absence from the evening gathering, to 
 persuade people that they have ; but at 
 Lucullus Mansion there were very few 
 ladies who did not spend at least the 
 period during which their lords were sip- 
 ping their claret — and excellent wine it 
 was — in the drawing-room, and to none did 
 Mrs. Hodlin Barmby omit to say '' some- 
 thing civil." Those whom she saw evi- 
 dently getting on well together, she wisely 
 left to themselves after a passing word of 
 courtesy, but where she saw " a hitch " she
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRA WING-ROOM. 153, 
 
 sat down, and smoothed the knot away, 
 and set the skein going. More especially 
 did she give her attention to the new- 
 comers, whom it was her mission first to 
 put at their ease, and then to introduce to 
 such companions as she imagined would be 
 to their taste. She brought her ducklings, 
 to the water, and set them swimming ; and 
 what mother duck could have done more ? 
 
 On the present occasion, she naturally 
 took Evy under her wing. 
 
 *' Your uncle is somewhat of an invalid, 
 I hear," said she, as they crossed the hall 
 together in the rear of the cloud of muslin. 
 " 1 noticed that he took Vichy water." 
 
 She must have also noticed that he had 
 taken something very much worse ; but to 
 look at her when she spoke these words of 
 sympathy you would have thought that she 
 had had no nose. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, he is never very strong," 
 said Evy, *' but to-day he is unusually un-
 
 154 AT HER MERC V. 
 
 well, I think. I dare say the fatigues of 
 our journey have been a little too much for 
 him." 
 
 " Very likely, my dear. Else, being un- 
 accustomed to him, I was rather frightened, 
 do you know, to see him change colour so 
 at dinner." 
 
 " Did you see that ? I was in hopes 
 nobody had observed him but myself." 
 
 *' Well, nobody else did, dear, except you 
 and me, I have no doubt," returned Mrs. 
 Barmby, smiling ; " but it Is my duty, you 
 know, to see everything — and to hold my 
 tongue in most cases. I should have been 
 careful of speaking of such a thing as this, 
 for instance, to most young ladies in your 
 position, but I did you the compliment of 
 supposing you had common sense. It 
 could not make your uncle any worse to 
 mention the fact ; while in case it had 
 escaped your observation, it was only 
 right to call your attention to it."
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRAWING-ROOM. 155 
 
 There was a certain seriousness in Mrs. 
 Barmby's air that belied her careless words, 
 and did not escape her companion's obser- 
 vation. 
 
 " You did quite right, I'm sure, and I 
 am much obliged to you," replied Evy, 
 gratefully. *' To say the truth, I wanted 
 my uncle to go upstairs at once, but he 
 seemed to wish me to come into the draw- 
 ing-room. It was not like one of his usual 
 attacks at all. It seemed to me to be a 
 sort of spasm." 
 
 '* I think it was," said Mrs. Barmby ; 
 '' but there is nothing to be alarmed at in 
 that. They are common enough with all 
 of us — I have them myself when anything 
 puts me out — and especially with nervous 
 subjects, such as I judge your uncle to be. 
 You must tell me what is good for him, 
 and he shall never be without a wholesome 
 dish at table, I promise you." 
 
 " Oh, thank you. I have no doubt he
 
 IS6 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 will do very well. He told me that the 
 Balcombe air seemed to have done him. 
 good already." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well that is very strange, for 
 I understood him to say, not five minutes 
 ago, that he was very doubtful whether it 
 would suit him, and that I must not be 
 surprised if he started off all in a hurry." 
 
 '' Oh, you don't know my uncle," laughed 
 Evy. " He threatened to leave Dunwich 
 at least once a week, and yet we lived on 
 there for three years." 
 
 Mrs. Barmby laughed with her young 
 friend ; but she did not share her ap- 
 parently careless view of the matter. 
 
 *' Mr. Hulet has got heart disease," was 
 her private reflection, "and for half a 
 minute at dinner to-day was, I am certain, 
 in agony. It is just as w.ell, however, that 
 this poor girl should not be made aware of 
 
 it Mrs. Storks, let me introduce my 
 
 young friend, Miss Carthew."
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRAWING-ROOM. 157 
 
 " I am very pleased to make her ac- 
 quaintance," said that lady, frankly, '' and 
 I wish, for both our sakes, it had been 
 made earlier; I mean before dinner. I 
 would then have talked to my vis-a-vis 
 instead of my neighbour — oh dear, what 
 a dreadful man that Mr. Paragon is, Mrs. 
 Barmby — I flatter myself also that Miss 
 Carthew would have got on with me better 
 than with that heraldric old griffin, Mr. De 
 Coucy." 
 
 "It is very ungrateful of you to say so, 
 considering the terms in which Mr. De 
 Coucy used to speak of you, Mrs. Storks," 
 returned the hostess, smiling. 
 
 " Yes, used to," returned the widow, 
 laughing heartily ; '' but now, I fear, I am 
 no more in favour with him than is our fair 
 friend yonder." She motioned with her 
 hand to where Judith Mercer was sitting 
 by her aunt's elbow with a huge photo- 
 graph book between them ; then added, as
 
 158 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 her hostess slipped away to make herself 
 pleasant elsewhere, " Are you good at 
 character-guessing, Miss Carthew ? If so, 
 do tell me what you think of that young 
 lady." 
 
 "Well, I never saw a more beautiful 
 face," began Evy. 
 
 ** Or a better figure," put In Mrs. Storks,, 
 expanding her own very charming bust 
 just as a swan does when scornfully con- 
 templating another swan. '' There can be 
 no two opinions about her good looks. 
 But are there not * slumbering fires,' as the 
 novelists say — ' temper,' / call It — in those 
 down-drooped eyes ? — she knows we are 
 talking of her at this instant, and therefore 
 seems as meek as a dove — is there not 
 impatience, too, In those taper fingers with 
 which she is pointing out ' objects of in- 
 terest' to that exacting old lady ?" 
 
 " I did not know fingers were so signifi- 
 cant," said Evy, smiling.
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRAWING-ROOM. 159 
 
 ''What, don't you believe in chiro- 
 mancy ? Of course I don't mean the di- 
 vination part of it, but in the indications 
 that the hand affords. Well, at all events, 
 you know what sort of tempers people 
 have who bite their nails. That girl would 
 bite her nails to the quick if it wasn't for 
 spoiling the look of them. She is obliged 
 to be all dutiful submission to her relative, 
 who * sits upon her ' dreadfully ; but she 
 little knows she is sitting upon a volcano. 
 Miss Judith will strangle that old lady 
 some day, mark my words." 
 
 "Let us hope not," said Evy, a little 
 shocked at the other's vigorous language, 
 accompanied, though it was, with a smiling 
 air. 
 
 " Well, I don't know about * hoping not.' 
 You have no idea how trying Mrs. Mercer 
 is with her fainting fits (she has one a day) 
 and her footstool, which is indispensable 
 to her wherever she moves ; it must be a
 
 i6o AT HER MERCY. 
 
 dreadful thing to live with a hypochon- 
 driac. By-the-by, why does your uncle 
 always take paregoric with his meals ?" 
 
 '' I did not know he did," said Evy, 
 attempting a stiff manner, though very 
 much inclined to laugh. 
 
 '* But it was paregoric, wasn't it ?" re- 
 turned his unabashed companion. ** Well, 
 at all events it smelt very like it. I hope 
 he doesn't worry you as Mrs. Mercer 
 worries her niece ?" 
 
 " Indeed he doesn't, Mrs. Storks ; my 
 uncle is the kindest of men." 
 
 " Ah, that's very nice, and particularly 
 as I see you mean it. Not like that girl 
 yonder who will come up and thank you 
 ' for your kind attention to her dear aunt ' 
 if you happen to thread her needle for her, 
 and at the same time will wish you dead. 
 He's very susceptible though, isn't he t 
 Kind old gentlemen generally are." 
 
 '' Susceptible ? How do you mean ?"
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRAWING-ROOM. i6i 
 
 '' Falls in love, like Mr. De Coucy, with 
 every young woman he meets, does he 
 not ?" 
 
 '* Oh dear no," said Evy, laughing, this 
 time outright ; she found it very hard to 
 be angry with Mrs. General Storks, though 
 some persons found it very easy. " I 
 never knew him do anything of the sort." 
 
 " Did you not ? Well, I may be wrong, 
 but it struck me more than once at dinner 
 that he gave a very peculiar glance to- 
 wards Miss Judith Mercer. Tried to look 
 at her unobserved (which he didn't, I'll 
 answer for it) ; you know what I mean ?" 
 
 " I can't say I do," returned Evy, 
 frankly. " And I am quite sure that 
 Uncle Angelo never " 
 
 " Hush !" interrupted Mrs. Storks. 
 *' Here is Mrs. Barmby coming on an 
 embassage from the malade imaginaire. 
 If I am not mistaken, you are going to be 
 introduced to her Transparency." 
 
 VOL. I. I I
 
 i62 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 And indeed the mistress of the house 
 here came over from Mrs. Mercer with a 
 polite request from that lady that Evy 
 would be so good as to grant her the great 
 pleasure of an Introduction. 
 
 " A very well-meaning person Indeed, 
 my dear," whispered Mrs. Barmby, as she 
 escorted her young friend across the room, 
 " but a little peculiar." 
 
 ** How good of you, I'm sure," lisped 
 Mrs. Mercer, when the formality had been 
 accomplished, though not with complete 
 success In Evy's case, as soon appeared. 
 ** I would have come over to you, Miss 
 Hartopp, If it were not for my legs, which 
 Doctor Carambole says I am not to ven- 
 ture upon for at least an hour after dinner. 
 Judith — this is my niece Judith ; you are 
 just about of an age, and must, I insist 
 upon it, be great friends — go and take 
 Miss Hartopp's place on yonder sofa, and 
 let her sit by me awhile."
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRAWING-ROOM. 163 
 
 Judith, who had risen at Evy's approach, 
 and saluted her with a courtsey so low that 
 it almost suggested a mock humility, 
 bowed her head, and instantly obeyed her 
 aunt's behest, not however without shoot- 
 ing one lightning glance of jealous dis- 
 favour at the new comer. The next mo- 
 ment Mrs. Storks and herself were en- 
 gaged in such animated conversation as is 
 rarely carried on between two ladies, unless 
 they have a very violent antipathy to one 
 another. 
 
 ** I hope you don't think it a liberty," 
 commenced Mrs. Mercer, '' that I should 
 have asked Mrs. Barmby to play the am- 
 bassador for me ; but the fact is I was so 
 struck by a resemblance in your face — 
 only you are prettier than ever she was — 
 to a connection of my own, that I felt irre- 
 sistibly drawn towards you. Would you 
 mind just pushing my footstool about two 
 inches, or say an inch and a half ? Thank 
 
 II — 2
 
 i64 AT HER MERCY, 
 
 you — that's just right. Judith herself 
 couldn't have done it better. What a con- 
 trast, by-the-by, you and my niece afford. 
 The Rose of Sharon and the Lily of 
 what's the name of the place ? My me- 
 mory is utterly useless ; as for names, my 
 dear Miss Hartopp, they go in at one ear 
 and out of the other, though after all that 
 is of no great consequence, for as Some- 
 body very rightly observes, ' What is in a 
 name t 
 
 Evy bowed adhesion : if Mrs. Mercer 
 did not care about accuracy in names, why 
 should she trouble her with the fact that 
 her own name was not Hartopp. 
 
 " One often forgets names and dates," 
 remarked she, wishing to say something 
 comforting, " though one remembers other 
 things well enough." 
 
 " Yes, but I don't remember other 
 things, child," answered Mrs. Mercer, 
 peevishly ; " and when you get to my age,
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRAWING-ROOM. 165 
 
 especially If you have had bad health — 
 there, IVe lost my knitting-needle. You 
 don't happen to be sitting upon it, do you ? 
 Doctor Carambole knew a poor girl who 
 did that once — no, by-the-by, she swal- 
 lowed a packet of them, or perhaps it was 
 only two of them, but at all events they 
 increased and multiplied in quite a remark- 
 able manner, and shot about all over her, 
 and came out at her joints, her elbow 
 joints particularly. You've found it on 
 the floor. How good of you. Where 
 was I ?" 
 
 *' You were speaking of the poor young 
 lady who swallowed the needles." 
 
 *' Just so ; she wasn't a young lady, by- 
 the-by, being only a milliner, but of course 
 the principle is the same. Persons in her 
 own rank who chanced to shake hands 
 with her, used to have their fingers pricked 
 most dreadfully. However, they cured 
 her at last by mesmerism. They got a
 
 1 66 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 mesmer — no, I'm wrong, it was magnetism 
 — they got a magnet, one of the things 
 you buy at the toy-shops with metal fishes, 
 you know, only larger, and all the needles 
 leapt out at once, like a shower of rain. 
 Talking of showers, are you going to stay 
 at Balcombe long ? You'll find it dread- 
 fully wet." 
 
 " I cannot say ; that will depend upon 
 how It agrees with my uncle, who is an 
 invalid." 
 
 " Dear me. Well, now, that's very nice 
 — very interesting, I mean, of course. I 
 wonder whether his symptoms are like 
 mine. Would you mind describing them ?" 
 
 " I believe my uncle's ailment is chiefly 
 connected with the nerves," remarked Evy, 
 evasively. 
 
 "■ Ah, then he will derive no benefit from 
 being here, nor anywhere else. My dear 
 Miss Hartopp, I've been everywhere for 
 nerves, and never lost them, though I have
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRA WING-ROOM, 167 
 
 acquired several new diseases. Balcombe 
 is neither better nor worse for me than other 
 places." 
 
 '' You find it pleasant, however, do you 
 not ? The scenery seems exceedingly pic- 
 turesque." 
 
 " I believe it is ; but I am too near- 
 sighted to see scenery. I am obliged to 
 look at everything through these double 
 glasses, which is very fatiguing to a person 
 in my delicate state of health. I can't hold 
 them up for more than half a minute at a 
 time. Doctor Carambole says, ' Let your 
 niece hold them up for you, then,' but that 
 looks so ridiculous, you know. Most near- 
 sighted persons have some natural advan- 
 tage in this respect. Gentlemen, you may 
 have remarked, who use a glass have got a 
 bit of fat in the corner of their right eyes 
 to hold it up with, and ladies who wear 
 these double things have often a little knob 
 on the bridge of their nose ; but my knob — "
 
 i68 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 and here Mrs. Sophia Mercer ran her finger 
 along her own nose, which was retroussee 
 — " is at the very end of it, you see, and 
 quite useless. How old are you ?" 
 
 The abruptness of this inquiry was ac- 
 companied by no change of tone ; gentle 
 regret at the shape of her most prominent 
 feature gave place to tepid interest in her 
 companion's age, and that was all. 
 
 ** I am eighteen," said Evy. 
 
 '' I should have thought you younger.. 
 Now Judith, who is one-and-twenty, looks 
 fully her years. Blondes and brunettes are 
 so different in that respect. You will keep 
 your youth for a certain time, my dear Miss 
 Hartopp, and then fall suddenly — just as I 
 did — all to pieces." 
 
 '' I hope not," said Evy, laughing ; '' and,, 
 indeed, Mrs. Mercer, I don't see that you 
 have done so." 
 
 *' It is very good of you to say so, Tm 
 sure, my dear ; but I am a wreck. Sitting
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRA WING-ROOM. 169 
 
 as I am now, with a footstool nicely ad- 
 justed — by-the-by, could you put it just 
 half an inch nearer ? thanks — and with a 
 hard cushion — soft ones are worse than 
 nothing —to support the small of my back, 
 I present a tolerable appearance. But you 
 should see me when I am getting up in the 
 morning — I wish you would some day, 
 for it's a long business, and I should like 
 to have somebody to talk to besides Judith. 
 That's what I admire so much in reading 
 of the French kings. They received society 
 in their bedrooms. I dare say you have 
 read all about their great levees and their 
 little levees, and so on, while their wigs 
 were being curled, though there is nothing 
 of that kind, thank goodness, about me. 
 It's all my own hair, such as it is. You 
 would never guess it to have been once a 
 beautiful brown, just like your own, and so 
 long that I could sit upon it. Can you sit 
 upon yours ?"
 
 1 70 AT HER MERC K 
 
 ** Well, really/' laughed Evy, " I never 
 tried.'' 
 
 " Did you not ? I could just do it by 
 throwing my head back as though I were 
 taking a pill, By-the-by, it must be nearly 
 time for me to take one now ; but there, 
 Judith never forgets to remind me to the 
 moment. She has such a good head. I 
 dare say you look after your uncle in the 
 same way. You must introduce me to him 
 presently, for I am sure we shall have many 
 topics in common. Who is that gentleman 
 coming into the room ? I can't find my 
 glasses. Doctor Carambole says — God 
 bless my soul and body !" 
 
 " Miss Mercer, your aunt is ill," cried 
 Evy, terrified by the sudden change in 
 her companion's appearance, even more 
 than by her ejaculation. To sink back in 
 her chair was an impossibility for Mrs. 
 Mercer, because of the supplemental 
 cushion, but her colourless face had turned
 
 IN THE LADIES' DRAWING-ROOM. 171 
 
 to a livid white, and was drooping, with 
 shut eyes, upon one side, in a very alarm- 
 ing manner. Before Evy had finished 
 her sentence, Judith had crossed the room, 
 and snatching up a bottle of smelling-salts 
 that lay on the table, applied it to her rela- 
 tive's nostrils. 
 
 " Good heavens ! what is the matter ?" 
 shrieked a chorus of female voices. 
 
 " It is a fainting fit," observed Mrs. 
 Storks, quietly, more with the object of re- 
 assuring the trembling Evy, than of allaying 
 the general anxiety. 
 
 '' It is not," answered Judith, decisively, 
 " or at least it is not one of those to which 
 my aunt is subject." 
 
 One good soul ran for water, another 
 kindled a wax light, and seized a quill 
 feather, and Mrs. Hodlin Barmby threw 
 wide the glass door, that opened on the 
 garden terrace, to give the patient air. 
 
 Even these sovereign remedies failed of
 
 1 72 AT HER MERC Y. 
 
 their effect for several minutes, at the ex- 
 piration of which Mrs. Sophia Mercer 
 opened her eyes, and glanced around her 
 in an apprehensive manner, while at the 
 same time the colour rushed to her cheeks.. 
 
 *' The gentlemen are all gone, my dear,'* 
 observed Mrs. Barmby, rightly translating 
 the poor lady's look of distress. " You feel 
 better now, don't you ?" 
 
 *' Yes, Mrs. Barmby, thank you ; there's 
 nothing, as Docitor Carambole says, like 
 salts " — here the patient sniffed at it vigor- 
 ously — " except senna. Who is it that is 
 holding my head ?" 
 
 " It is Miss Carthew," said Mrs. Barmby. 
 
 "Ah," sighed Mrs. Mercer. ''Why did 
 you tell me her name was Hartopp ? Now 
 I understand it all." 
 
 A remark containing an enigma so preg- 
 nant and profound that its solution must 
 not be disclosed until our next chapter, and 
 perhaps not even then.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Judith's little suggestion. 
 
 Y dear Miss Carthew," observed 
 Mrs. General Storks, as they 
 were taking a little stroll on 
 the terrace together, on the third evening 
 after Mrs. Mercer's "seizure" — for every- 
 iDody was agreed it was not one of her 
 ordinary " goings off" — " does it not strike 
 you that there is a something growing up 
 between your uncle and that hypochon- 
 driacal old maid ?'' 
 
 " What, Mrs. Mercer ?" 
 " Mrs. Fiddlestick. She used to be 
 very particular in calling; herself Mrs.
 
 174 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Sophia Mercer before Mr. Hulet came. 
 She Is an old maid, of course, though she 
 would very much like, if I am not mis- 
 taken, to exchangee her brevet for sub- 
 stantial rank." 
 
 *' Indeed, Mrs. Storks, I think you are 
 mistaken," said Evy, gravely. '' She told 
 me, herself, that she was nearly sixty years 
 of age." 
 
 *' What has that to do with it ? — 
 
 " ' There swims no goose so gray but soon or late, 
 She finds some foolish gander for her mate.' 
 
 Or, at all events, she is always looking 
 for one. I tell you that woman has got 
 her eye on Mr. Hulet. She follows him 
 about wherever he goes." 
 
 " Follows him about !" echoed Evy, irt 
 grave astonishment. 
 
 "Yes — that is, I mean, with. her eye. 
 It is true she sometimes looks very lacka- 
 daisically at Mr. De Coucy, but that is 
 when she has not her glasses on, and mis-
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 175 
 
 takes him for your uncle. Then they are 
 always interchanging prescriptions with 
 one another ; a very funny way of making 
 love, it is true, but the only one open to 
 them. People of sixty can't talk of their 
 hearts in a sentimental way, but they can 
 discourse of them medically, you know, in 
 a very interesting manner. * I always have 
 a little palpitation when you are near me, 
 my dear Mr. Hulet, and then I find these 
 drops so efficacious !' " 
 
 The imitation of poor Mrs. Mercers 
 faded tone and manner was so perfect, that 
 notwithstanding Evy felt not a little an- 
 noyance at her companion's suggestion, 
 and the more so, since the idea had also 
 occurred to her own mind, she could not 
 forbear to smile. ^ 
 
 '* Doctor Carambole says," continued 
 Mrs. Storks, in mincing accents, " that the 
 very worst thing for a nervous disorder is 
 to live a soHtary life."
 
 176 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 " You are really too bad," Mrs. Storks ; 
 "■ I don't believe Mrs. Mercer ever said 
 such a thing as that to my uncle," said 
 Evy, confidently. 
 
 " She doesn't say it for herself, my dear ; 
 she makes Doctor Carambole say it for 
 her. And my own opinion is that ' no sich 
 a person,' as Mrs. Betsy Prig said of Mrs. 
 Harris, ' ever existed* as Doctor Caram- 
 bole. That dyspeptic old lady merely 
 quotes him as an authority for her indulg- 
 ing in anything unwholesome for which 
 she has a mind ; and she has a mind for 
 Mr. Angelo Hulet. I don't mean to say 
 your uncle is unwholesome," added the 
 widow, precipitately, ' ' but only unsuitable 
 for her. It is not as if their complaints 
 -were different ; for then they would get on 
 with great success. But each of them is 
 so ' shattered,' you see, and troubled with 
 ' nerves,' that they would frighten one 
 another to death."
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 177 
 
 '' But I remember, Mrs. Storks, that you 
 once accused my poor uncle of falling In 
 love with Judith," reasoned Evy, whose 
 mind was too fixed upon the main topic 
 under discussion to take much notice of 
 this direful prognostic. 
 
 " Very true, my dear ; and I was cor- 
 rect In the fact, though wrong as to the 
 person ; I caught his eye, ranging with an 
 expression it was Impossible to mistake, 
 towards the Mercers on the first day at 
 dinner, and, of course, I concluded that he 
 was smitten with that horrible girl That^ 
 I allow, would be fifty times worse." And 
 the widow shuddered as though she had 
 inadvertently squashed a toad. 
 
 " Of course It would have been very — 
 undesirable," answered Evy, rather at a 
 loss for a word befitting such a cata- 
 strophe ; *' but I cannot see why you should 
 entertain so great an aversion to Miss 
 Mercer. I confess I did not like her 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 myself at first, but I am beginning to have 
 a much better opinion of her. Her devo- 
 tion to her aunt is unquestionable, and — '* 
 Evy hesitated. 
 
 " And disinterested," put in Mrs. Storks, 
 dryly. 
 
 '' No, I was not going to say that," said 
 Evy ; " I was reflecting upon her conduct 
 towards myself, which I think is singularly 
 delicate, and even generous. If I were in 
 Judith's place, and Mrs. Mercer had shown 
 such especial goodwill to her, as she has 
 to me, I am almost certain I should have 
 been jealous. Now, on the contrary, the 
 more I am in favour with her aunt, the 
 more cordially Judith behaves towards me. 
 I honestly tell you, dear Mrs. Storks, I 
 think you are unjustly prejudiced against 
 her." 
 
 " Perhaps I am ; our styles are too much 
 alike for us to be very good friends, you 
 see," said the widow, naively ; '' whereas
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 179 
 
 you and she have nothing in common. I 
 don't mean to say that that ought to have 
 had anything to do with my aversion to 
 her," for Evy had opened her hazel eyes 
 very wide indeed, " though no doubt it did. 
 lay the groundwork for it ; nor do I assert 
 that if you had been a brunette instead of 
 a blonde, you would have been actuated by 
 my sentiments. I don't think you would. 
 You have the temper of an angel, and Fm 
 the other thing ; I know that. But there 
 are degrees of blackness, and Judith is 
 several shades darker than I am, I mean 
 of course in character, for as to complexion, 
 she's a downright creole. She can't ap- 
 preciate, for instance, a good girl as I can. 
 I am certain of it ; and if she seems cordial 
 and friendly towards you — but here she 
 comes 'playing' her gold-fish as usual. If 
 her aunt marries, mark m.y words, she will 
 strike and land him." 
 
 The gold-fish was Mr. Paraeon, who
 
 1 8o AT HER MERC Y. 
 
 along with Miss Judith Mercer had ex- 
 changed the drawing-room for the terrace 
 for a little fresh air, and a flirtation. It 
 was not often that he had such an oppor- 
 tunity ; Judith was generally tied up to her 
 aunt's side as tight as a marriage settle- 
 ment, not from fear of her being made love 
 to, but solely to push the footstool in exact 
 gradations, and to hand the smelling-bottle 
 at a crisis ; but of late days, that exacting 
 lady had dispensed with her niece's ser- 
 vices after dinner, and Mr. Angelo Hulet 
 had occupied her vacant chair. 
 
 " Confound it," murmured Mr. Paragon, 
 *' here's that North American Indian on 
 the terrace." 
 
 His knowledge of geography was so 
 limited that it may well have been that he 
 thought he was correctly indicating a 
 citizen of the United States by such a 
 term, but on the other hand he had an 
 intention to be depreciatory. He feared
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. i8r 
 
 the tongue of Mrs. General Storks as the 
 wild cattle of his native land fear the crack 
 of the stock-whip. Nor could he trust 
 Judith to defend him, as she was so well 
 able to do. The widow and herself, if 
 Lucullus Mansion had been an academy 
 for young gentlemen, would have been in 
 the position of those " cocks of the school" 
 who though hating one another very cor- 
 dially, are each averse to risk their supre- 
 macy in a decisive battle ; and were cer- 
 tainly not likely to do so for the sake of 
 Master Paragon. Moreover, had Judith 
 taken up the cudgels for him, it would 
 have been almost tantamount to acknow- 
 ledging him as her lover, which she had 
 not made up her mind to do. She suf- 
 fered the slow, dull-witted youth to be 
 bullied as he deserved, and even tormented 
 him herself in public, though when alone 
 together it is probable she patted him on 
 the back. When he beheld Mrs. Storks
 
 i82 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 and Evy, he knew that he would not be 
 patted, and would probably be pinched, 
 and hence his expression of annoyance. 
 
 " Mr. Paragon has just been making a 
 proposal to me, ladies," began Judith in a 
 sprightly tone. 
 
 " May we congratulate him ?" inter- 
 rupted the widow, " or have you made him 
 wretched for ever ?" 
 
 *' Oh really," said Mr. Paragon, hur- 
 riedly, '' you quite mistake." 
 
 He liked a flirtation very well, but he 
 had by no means made up his mind to offer 
 his hand to Judith. It was his boast that 
 it had forty thousand sheep in it, and 
 though Mrs. Storks had contemptuously 
 designated it a *' mutton fist," he knew its 
 value. 
 
 ** What a very rude man !" exclaimed 
 that lady ; '' I hope he is not an example of 
 colonial manners.'* 
 
 ** Permit me to explain, madam," stam-
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 183 
 
 mered Mr. Paragon ; *' my proposal in- 
 cludes yourself as well as Miss Mercer." 
 
 *'Good gracious, that's not Australian, 
 that's Asiatic ;" cried the widow. *' This 
 is very shocking, sir, I must really inform 
 Mrs. Barmby." 
 
 '' I have informed her," persisted the 
 unhappy Paragon, "and if you wouldn't 
 take up a fellow so very sharp " 
 
 " But are you so very sharp, Mr. Para- 
 gon ?" inquired Judith, enraged at his want 
 of gallantry to herself, exhibited, too, as it 
 had been, in the presence of the enemy. 
 
 *'Now don't, Miss Mercer, don't," pleaded 
 the poor wretch ; '' why can't you tell her 
 what I mean ? The other men zuotdd 
 make me their ambassador, because they 
 said I was the youngest ; but I knew I 
 should make a mess of it. Look here, I 
 am to make a proposal to all the ladies in 
 the house, for all the gentlemen, you 
 know "
 
 1 84 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 " Cupid's messenger !" observed Mrs. 
 Storks, parenthetically. 
 
 " Well, I may be a stupid messenger, 
 ma'am, but I defy Solom^on himself to give 
 a message if he was interrupted at every 
 word. What I was commissioned to say, 
 is — will you all accept an invitation to a 
 picnic given by us to-morrow in Birbeck 
 Woods ? Miss Carthew — I ]?Lno\Y yozc will 
 give me a civil answer at all events — what 
 do you say ? Will you deign to favour us 
 with your company ?" 
 
 Evy felt a sincere pity for this poor 
 man, who, on hospitable thoughts intent, 
 had been thus made a shuttlecock by her 
 two companions for his pains, and she 
 answered frankly that she would be very 
 pleased to go to the picnic, if her uncle 
 should approve thereof. 
 
 " Oh, he will certainly approve of it," 
 said Mr. Paragon, "for he was the very 
 one who suggested the idea. We are to
 
 JUDITHS LITTLE SUGGESTION. 1 85 
 
 iiave a lottery to settle the articles to be 
 supplied by each of us, and the prize is to 
 be the 'pepper and salt' — but there, I ought 
 not to have told you about that." 
 
 '* I should think you ought not," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Storks. '' And I only hope 
 you may draw ' the wine ' for your share. 
 The idea of esteeming it an advantage to 
 have to pay as little as possible for the 
 benefit of us ladies. The * pepper and 
 salt' should have been your ' blank,' sir, if 
 you had been a true knight." 
 
 '* I am sorry I mentioned it," said Mr. 
 Paragon, humbly ; " but old Mr. Bullion 
 called it ' the prize.' " 
 
 " I have no doubt he did," said Mrs. 
 .Storks, contemptuously ; " and I dare say 
 the risk he runs of having to pay for the 
 champagne will keep him awake all night." 
 
 " Gad, you are right there," said Pa- 
 ragon eagerly, delighted to conciliate the 
 widow, '' and it shows how uncommon
 
 1 86 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 clever you must be to hit on that ; for no 
 sooner had the thing been agreed upon, 
 when Buhion inquired of Barmby whether 
 he did not think the champagne he gives 
 us at dinner was not too good for a picnic ;, 
 he meant too dear of course." 
 
 " Pray spare us these terrible details," 
 cried the widow, laughing heartily, ''or 
 we shall not be prejudiced in favour of our 
 hosts — and here they come." Under cover 
 of her mirth, and of an irruption of gentle- 
 men from the drawing-room to the terrace 
 that here took place, Judith whispered a. 
 few words in Evy's ear and led her down 
 the steps into the garden. 
 
 '' I want to have a little private talk with 
 you. Miss Carthew, if you will be so good 
 as to give me five minutes." 
 
 " As many as you please, Miss Mercer," 
 said Evy, kindly. 
 
 " Yes, your time is your own," answered 
 Judith, with a bitterness that she seemed
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 187 
 
 unable to restrain, " whereas I am ac- 
 countable to another for every minute. 
 However, it is not to bore you with my 
 miseries that I have brouo^ht you here; 
 my aunt says she likes all her friends to be 
 prosperous, and it is true she does so ; not. 
 so much from benevolence, I suspect, as 
 because those who are rich and indepen- 
 dent are not troublesome to her." 
 
 " I cannot think so ill of Mrs. Mercer as 
 that," said Evy ; ''she is exacting it is true, 
 and somewhat thoughtless of others, but I 
 think she has a kind heart, and I am quite 
 sure that she has a sincere affection for 
 yourself." 
 
 "If so, she has a strange way of show- 
 ing it," replied Judith, coldly. ''But let 
 that pass. It is not in human nature to 
 expect one in your position to sympathize 
 with a mere hanger-on like me." 
 
 " My dear Miss Mercer," said Evy, 
 quietly, " you are not paying human
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 nature a compliment I flatter myself 
 that if I was an heiress, as rich as Mrs. 
 Bullion is said to have been, I should 
 sympathize with you all the same, but as a 
 matter of fact, I am just as dependent as 
 yourself" 
 
 " Indeed ! Is that so ?" returned Ju- 
 dith, with interest. 
 
 " Yes ; I have nothing of my own ; what- 
 ever I have is given to me by my uncle, 
 and yet I do not consider myself ' a hanger- 
 on/ as you call it. He is generosity itself, 
 and would be dreadfully distressed if he 
 thought I entertained such an idea. The 
 benefits of a blood relation are not like 
 those of a stranger — and even in that case 
 where there is a genuine mutual affec- 
 tion, there need be no distressing sense 
 of obligation. As for your position, it 
 seems to me, to be exactly similar to my 
 own." 
 
 '' No it is not It is very different,
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 189 
 
 Miss Carthew." She hesitated, then added, 
 " I know I can trust you to keep what is 
 to me a most important secret. Mrs. 
 Mercer Is not my aunt." 
 
 '* Not your aunt T 
 
 ''' Hush ! there are people on the terrace 
 above us. No ; she is no relation to me 
 whatever. I was an orphan, and she 
 adopted me. Suppose your uncle should 
 take a fancy to a pauper child in Balcombe 
 workhouse, and offer to relieve the guar- 
 dians of all charge of it — well, that was 
 my case." 
 
 Evy's astonishment was excessive, but 
 so soon as she recovered from it, her first 
 thought was how to show tenderness and 
 sympathy for one who had thus made a 
 confession which it was only too evident 
 from her bitter tones, was humiliating to 
 an extreme de2:ree. 
 
 *' Let me say one thing, Judith (if you 
 will let me call you so), in Mrs. Mercer's
 
 iQo AT HER MERCY. 
 
 favour," said Evy, gently passing her arm 
 through that of her companion ; '' I should 
 never have guessed from her manner to 
 you that you two were anything less to 
 one another than you are supposed to be. 
 As for your secret, it is, of course, as safe 
 with me as though you had never revealed 
 it, and I cannot but feel gratified at the 
 trust you have reposed in me. You had 
 probably, however, some object beside that 
 of merely showing confidence — nay, do not 
 misunderstand me'' — for Judith's face sud- 
 denly became scarlet. " I meant to say I 
 hoped you had, since if I can further it, 
 you may be sure that I will do my best to 
 do so. I was an orphan, Judith, and al- 
 most a pauper myself, when Uncle Angelo 
 adopted me!' Evy's eyes were full of tears, 
 and her voice trembled with tenderness, as 
 she added, '' Tell me — what can I do for 
 you ?" 
 
 '' You are very kind. Miss Carthew,"
 
 y UDITH'S LI TTLE S UGGESTION. 1 9,1 
 
 began Judith, in low but unfaltering 
 tones 
 
 " Please to call me Evy ; that is the 
 name to which I am most accustomed, and 
 it sounds more friendly," interrupted Evy, 
 gently. 
 
 " You are very kind, Evy. Much more 
 so than I had any right to expect ; and it 
 is a comfort to me, finding you so, that my 
 intended communication with you is not 
 wholly a selfish one. The matter about 
 ^hich I wished to speak concerns us both, 
 although not in the same degree. I wished 
 to put you on your guard against Mrs. 
 Mercer. She has a fixed design to marry 
 your uncle." 
 
 " Do you really think so ?" asked Evy, 
 coldly. Not because she had any doubt 
 upon the point, of which Judith's observa- 
 tion coming upon the back of her own and 
 Mrs. Stork's suspicions made her only too 
 well-assured ; but in order, if possible, to
 
 192 A T HER MERCY. 
 
 discourage her companion from pursuing- 
 the topic. She had been quite sincere in 
 her expressions of sympathy for Judith, 
 but she did not like her as she did the 
 widow, and even with the latter she would 
 willingly have avoided a discussion upon 
 her uncle's affairs. 
 
 " I am positively certain of it," answered 
 Judith. *' And when my aunt, as she calls 
 herself, sets her mind upon anything, great 
 or small, no considerations of propriety 
 or convenience, prevent her from going 
 through with it. She has been advised, 
 for instance, to use spectacles, but though 
 she is as blind as a bat, and would be 
 taking the wrong medicines half a dozen 
 times a day, if it were not for me, she will 
 not wear them, and excuses herself upon 
 the ground that she can't keep them on 
 her nose. She has twice fallen downstairs 
 in consequence of persisting in this folly,^ 
 but she would rather break her neck than
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 193 
 
 bend her will. Her will is now to marry 
 your uncle in spite of public opinion ; you 
 may say, indeed, that in this case, there 
 is another's will to be consulted, but Mr. 
 Hulet, if you will pardon me for saying so, 
 is weak and easily led." 
 
 Evy shook her head. 
 
 *' I mean in this particular matter," ex- 
 plained Judith. '' It is quite possible that 
 he may be as obstinate as my aunt, when 
 there is no occasion for it. Indeed, I heard 
 him discussing the character of Charles 
 the First yesterday with Mr. De Coucy, in 
 a manner that convinced me that he is so. 
 But there are few men who can withstand 
 a woman's persistent attentions, especially 
 when they are paid by one who is in the 
 habit of exacting them from all the rest of 
 the world. Besides, she has a great ad- 
 vantage to start with in their previous 
 acquaintance." 
 
 '' You think, then, that they have known 
 
 VOL. I. ' 13
 
 194 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 one another before ?" said Evy, interested 
 in spite of herself. 
 
 " Of course. I am convinced of it, and 
 took it for granted that you were aware 
 under what circumstances it happened. 
 Is it possible that you know nothing of 
 this ?" 
 
 *' Nothing ; though I don't deny that the 
 idea has suggested itself." 
 
 ** Suggested itself!" echoed Judith; 
 " when a lady faints away at the sight of 
 a gentleman's face, it must be either a very 
 forbidding one indeed — which is certainly 
 not the case in this instance — or be con- 
 nected with some association of the past. 
 It was at the precise moment of Mr. Hu- 
 let's entrance into the drawing-room, if 
 you remember, that Mrs. Mercer had her 
 * seizure,' as they call it." 
 
 " I was too frightened to notice that," 
 said Evy, and indeed she thought it strange 
 that Judith herself should have had eyes
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 195 
 
 for aught else than the catastrophe that 
 had happened to her aunt. Yet she was 
 doubtless right. The emotion which Mr. 
 Hulet had exhibited at the table d'hote, of 
 which however she did not now think it 
 necessary to speak, joined to his subsequent 
 behaviour — his long silences apparently- 
 spent in reflection, his unwonted references 
 to the past (her past), and above all his 
 reticence upon the subject of Mrs. Mercer, 
 to whom he had at once attached himself 
 as to an old acquaintance — had already 
 now and again suggested to Evy that her 
 uncle and Judith's aunt had met of old and 
 been on a familiar footing, and now view- 
 ing it by the stronger light cast by Judith's 
 intelligence, she was convinced of the fact. 
 Still, she did not feel drawn towards her 
 informant, as generally happens in such 
 cases, or inclined to reward her sagacity 
 with confidences. *' I was too frightened 
 to notice that," reiterated she ; '* but it is 
 
 13—2
 
 196 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 quite possible you may be right in your 
 surmise." 
 
 '' You take it very coolly, Miss Carthew," 
 said Judith, scanning her quiet face with im- 
 patient eyes, " but it surely concerns us both 
 that this ridiculous ' love affair,' if one can 
 call it so, should if possible be put a stop 
 to. Were you the heiress I supposed you 
 to be, I should request your assistance upon 
 general grounds ; those of common sense, 
 and good taste, for instance, both of which 
 w^ould surely be violated by such a match 
 as this. I should have appealed to your 
 regard for your uncle, who would be made 
 a laughing-stock were he to commit such an 
 act of folly as to marry this woman. The 
 united ages of such a bride and bridegroom 
 would be quoted in the comic newspapers. 
 But situated as it seems you are, this 
 matter becomes of the utmost importance 
 — concerns yourself indeed almost as much 
 as it does me."
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 197 
 
 *' To tell you the truth, my dear Miss 
 Mercer," returned Evy, gravely, *' I do not 
 see how it concerns either of us." 
 
 " Then you must be very dull or — no, I 
 don't mean that — you must be singularly 
 indifferent, my dear Miss Carthew, to your 
 own interests. Being dependent on your 
 uncle, is it of no consequence to you, do 
 you imagine, that he should fall into the 
 net of this designing woman ? Are you 
 aware that marriage invalidates a man's 
 will, and that even if he be persuaded to 
 make a second — itself often a difficult task 
 — he will of course have another's interest 
 to consult as well as, perhaps in place of, 
 your own." 
 
 *' Indeed, Miss Mercer," said Evy, 
 colouring, " I have never given my con- 
 sideration to such matters. They have 
 not indeed so much as occurred to me ; 
 but since you have suggested them, I must 
 confess they will cause me to be more
 
 198 AT HER MERCY, 
 
 careful, even than I should have otherwise 
 felt it my duty to be, to abstain from the 
 least interference with my uncle's proceed- 
 ings. Do not imagine that I am blaming 
 you, Miss Mercer," added Evy, perceiving 
 her companion to droop her eyes as if in 
 confusion, "• or arrogating to myself an ex- 
 traordinary delicacy. It is only natural 
 that you should feel anxiety respecting the 
 provision for your future ; whereas in my 
 case, I have such confidence in my uncle's 
 generosity and affection, that I can feel no 
 apprehensions as to any change he may 
 think proper to make in the future distribu- 
 tion of his property." 
 
 "You are fortunate, Miss Carthew," 
 sighed Judith, "and 1 am sure you de- 
 serve to be so. It is not every one who is 
 so trustful as yourself, or so delicate where 
 your own interests are concerned. Still, I 
 will not have you imagine that I am so 
 altogether sordid and selfish as my words, 
 I fear, have led you to imagine."
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 199 
 
 " My dear Miss Mercer, pray believe 
 me — " began Evy, in great distress. 
 
 ** Yes, yes, I know you meant nothing 
 harsh," interrupted Judith ; " and it is most 
 kind of you, I am sure, to feel the inclina- 
 tion to apologize to me. But let me say, 
 in the strictest confidence, that I was not 
 pleading for myself alone. You will not 
 let it go further ; you will not tell that 
 odious woman, who is watching us from 
 the terrace even now, and who would only 
 jeer at such a confession ; but there is one 
 whose interests are bound up in mine — he 
 is very poor, though he works very hard ; 
 a struggling artist " 
 
 " Your brother ?" said Evy, tenderly. 
 
 " No, Miss Carthew." Judith's voice 
 sank to a whisper, and she cast her beau- 
 tiful eyes upon the ground. '' Some one 
 even dearer than a brother. Oh, think if 
 you were in my case " (if the speaker had 
 looked up at that moment she would have
 
 200 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 had her secret reciprocated in her com- 
 panion's blushing face and dewy eyes) " and 
 felt your hopes of love — of this world's 
 heaven — dependent upon a few pieces of 
 gold, would not the vile dross itself acquire 
 a certain sacredness in your sight, and ex- 
 cuse you for a prudence that otherwise, I 
 own, seems so ill to befit my age and sex ?'* 
 
 *' Indeed, indeed it would," said Evy, 
 tenderly. " Forgive me if for a moment I 
 misjudged you, Judith. My uncle must see 
 this young painter, and " 
 
 " Oh, pray don't speak of Augustus to 
 Mr. Hulet," interposed Judith hastily ; '' my 
 aunt detests the very mention of his name, 
 poor fellow." 
 
 "Well, then, some other plan must be 
 hit upon for the present, and as for the 
 future, in case this marriage should take 
 place, and If my Influence can serve you 
 with my uncle with respect to the pro- 
 vision that will doubtless be arranged for
 
 JUDITH'S LITTLE SUGGESTION. 201 
 
 your future interests, rest assured it will 
 be exerted to the utmost." 
 
 *' Oh, thank you, thank you," answered 
 Judith, her handkerchief held to her eyes 
 to conceal her emotion, while her hand 
 met that of her companion with a grateful 
 pressure. 
 
 As for Evy, the thought of her beloved 
 Jack separated from herself by disparity 
 of fortune (though not, indeed, by the 
 absence of it) even now, and possibly to be 
 debarred from her for ever, melted her 
 heart within her. 
 
 '' I will do my best for this poor girl in 
 her sad strait," thought she, " and Heaven 
 help us both." 
 
 At the same moment, Mrs. General 
 Storks, who, from her post of vantage on 
 the terrace, had caught sight of Judith's 
 handkerchief-hidden face, might have been 
 heard to murmur to herself, " I wonder 
 what piece of sentimental knavery that
 
 202 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 abominable girl is practising upon poor 
 Evy." And when Mr. Paragon inquired 
 at what object in the garden she was 
 gazing so fixedly, she pushed that gentle- 
 man s credulity to its extreme limit by re- 
 plying with gravity, '' A crocodile."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 
 
 HE invitation to the gentlemen's 
 picnic was accepted (who ever 
 knew it otherwise ?) by the ladies 
 of Lucullus Mansion with unanimous avi- 
 dity, and late as It was, Mrs. Hodlin 
 Barmby despatched emissaries that very 
 night throughout Balcombe to furnish forth 
 the sylvan board. That admirable woman 
 never waited till the next day to secure 
 what could be bespoken the same evening, 
 and In that case, as in others, she had her 
 reward ; many a household in the neigh- 
 bourhood went without its lobster and its
 
 204 A T HER MERCY. 
 
 lettuces on that eventful day, in order that 
 the salad should not fail in Birbeck Beeches. 
 She never gave way to that besetting weak- 
 ness of her sex — a tendency to " risk " 
 matters — and would rather bring home 
 some coveted article of food, such as a pot 
 of Devonshire cream, or a basket of plover's 
 eggs, in her own hands, than put a respect- 
 able tradeswoman in the way of temptation 
 of a higher bid. Nor was it only with the 
 commissariat that she concerned herself. 
 She marshalled the guests in such order as ' 
 her sagacity foresaw would be most pleasing 
 to them, and placed in each carriage — well 
 horsed and gaily postillioned under her 
 husband's eye — its due complement of pas- 
 sengers. It had got about that Mr. Angelo 
 Hulet had been the proposer of the enter- 
 tainment, and therefore the first vehicle 
 was given to him, not a little to Mr. Bul- 
 lion's indignation, whose vast possessions 
 naturally inclined him to the belief that he
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 205 
 
 had a divine right in everything over every- 
 body. It was necessary to tell him, in 
 order to appease his wrath, that Mr. Hulet 
 (who was ^v^ years his junior) had had the 
 pas of the rest of the company as being 
 obviously the eldest. With the latter, of 
 course, went Evy, and " since the young 
 people would naturally like to be together," 
 said sly Mrs. Barmby to the valetudinarian, 
 *' I shall send Miss Judith, and her aunt, 
 along with you two." 
 
 The effect of this arrangement was to 
 fill the pockets of the first carriage with so 
 many bottles and phials, and packages of 
 charcoal and digestive biscuits, that it 
 might have been supposed by a casual 
 spectator to be carrying the provisions for 
 the picnic, which had in fact been des- 
 patched hours before, in a separate convey- 
 ance, to a certain appointed greenwood 
 glade. The two invalids finding them- 
 selves thus in each other's company, and
 
 2o6 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 with every remedy and restorative at hand, 
 and having nothing to complain of except 
 their ailments — which was their favourite 
 topic — looked eminently well pleased, and 
 conversed with one another in low confi- 
 dential tones. On the opposite side sat 
 the girls ; Judith, a little incommoded by 
 the irrepressible footstool, but wreathed 
 in smiles as in duty bound, while Evy, 
 though she would rather have had Mrs. 
 Storks beside her, looked equally happy if 
 not quite so demonstrative. 
 
 ** I can see that my spirits surprise you," 
 whispered Judith to her companion, " and 
 yet it Is to you that I am indebted for 
 them. Ah, you who are so happy little 
 know what magic a few kind words, such 
 as you spoke to me last night, can effect 
 with one who Is so unused to kindness. 
 Perhaps you meant little by them," here 
 she paused, and Evy answered quickly and 
 earnestly :
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 207 
 
 '' Indeed, dear Miss Mercer, I meant all 
 1 said." 
 
 ** How can I believe that, when you will 
 not call me Judith ?" returned the other, 
 pathetically. " Oh yes, I know it was an 
 oversight, a slip of the tongue, and that you 
 mean to be friendly with me, whenever you 
 can think of it. It is not your fault, dear 
 Miss Carthew. I have not, alas ! the gift 
 of attracting the love of others, as you 
 have. Ah, how I covet it !" 
 
 " Indeed, Judith, you do me wrong," 
 pleaded Evy ; " and yourself wrong. I did 
 not call you by your Christian name be- 
 cause of your aunt's presence, whose sus- 
 picions I thought might be aroused by such 
 sudden familiarity." 
 
 Oh, Evy, Evy, when the recording angel 
 had to write down that little speech, I am 
 afraid it was not without some celestial 
 hieroglyphic indicating a doubt of its 
 authenticity. My own conviction is that
 
 2o8 A T HER MERC K 
 
 you do not like your new friend so well, 
 that terms of endearment for her spring, 
 flower-like, on your lips — that you have in 
 fact told " a white one." 
 
 '' And as for your not attracting people," 
 she continued, " I am sure the anxiety 
 that Mr. Paragon, for one, showed to hand 
 you to your seat just now, was a sufficient 
 contradiction to such a statement. Don't 
 you think it is a little hard upon the poor 
 man to let him be so very civil in igno- 
 rance of the existence of — by-the-by, you 
 never confided to me the name, which I 
 hope to read of one day among the Royal 
 Academicians." 
 
 *' I dare not breathe it in this company," 
 returned Judith, with emotion. " My vis-a- 
 vis is not always so deaf as she was the 
 other night, when she took Hartopp for 
 Carthew. Yes, I am sorry for Mr. Paragon, 
 but I don't think he is likely to break his 
 Jieart about me or anybody else ; and it is
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 209 
 
 SO necessary for dear Augustus's sake that 
 I should dissemble. It was only the other 
 night that my aunt was congratulating me 
 upon what she was pleased to call my ' good 
 sense,' in encouraging the attentions of one 
 who could offer me an establishment in- 
 stead of listening to ' a beggarly painter/ 
 Was it not cruel of her, dear ?" 
 
 '' I think it was most abominable of her," 
 said Evy, indignantly. " I should never 
 have given her credit for such a speech, did 
 I not hear it from your own mouth. With 
 all her faults she seems so kind and lady- 
 like " 
 
 *'My dear Evy," interrupted Judith' 
 compassionately, ^' your charity leads you 
 to be too credulous. Don't you see that 
 my aunt has now a motive for appearing in 
 her best colours, or rather in colours that 
 don't belong to her at all ? Only watch 
 how she lanofuishes when she addresses 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2 lo AT HER MERC Y. 
 
 your uncle ; whether she is talking of her 
 love, or her liver, it's all one." 
 
 Evy could hardly forbear to smile, 
 though she felt ashamed of doing so. 
 Judith's conversation did not please her ; 
 it was clever, but too cynical, and even 
 coarse, to suit her taste. Now Mrs. Storks 
 was satirical and outspoken enough, but 
 somehow, she was never vulgar ; her geni- 
 ality of disposition also enabled her to 
 ''say things" in a manner that robbed 
 them of their sting, whereas the tone of 
 Judith's talk (when she was not apologizing 
 for it) was very hard. At the same time 
 Evy was too just not to admit that the 
 position of this poor girl put her at a great 
 disadvantage ; she had heard her uncle say 
 that where dependence does not make a 
 hypocrite, it makes a cynic, and had the 
 lines of Judith's life fallen in more pleasant 
 places, it was only reasonable to suppose 
 that she would have been a more pleasant 
 person.
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 211 
 
 Upon reaching their destination the 
 hosts of the picnic proclaimed, as it were, 
 their independence, threw off the yoke of 
 Mrs. HodHn Barmby, and rearranged the 
 party in accordance with their own views. 
 Each gentleman — so far as they went, for 
 they were less numerous than their fair 
 guests — carried off a lady, and escorted 
 her to the glade where the collation was 
 awaiting them, and as Birbeck Beeches, 
 though but of small extent, was a pathless 
 wilderness, there was no direct route, but 
 every pair took their own way, which, in 
 some cases, was an intentionally prolonged 
 one. Those ladies on the contrary who 
 had no cavalier, but were obliged to put 
 up with a substitute (even though it was 
 Mrs. Bullion, who in inches was almost a 
 man, and who had also a very respectable 
 moustache) went as straight to the feeding 
 place as their knowledge of the locality 
 would permit, and Birbeck Beeches was 
 
 14—2
 
 212 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 pretty well known to all Balcombe. It 
 was a very beautiful spot, as wild as a 
 primeval forest, though you could scarcely 
 have been lost, or starved to death In it, 
 even if you had not stumbled on the ham- 
 pers from Lucullus Mansion — and every 
 tree was " a study " for any young woman 
 who could wield a pencil, and had ad- 
 vanced as far as a number three drawing- 
 book. Each mighty bole was mossed and 
 knobbed in some characteristic fashion, 
 and with its gnarled branches presented in 
 numberless instances a grotesque likeness 
 to the human form. To Monsieur Gus- 
 tave Dore s eyes, indeed, the wood would 
 have been ready *' peopled/' even without 
 the presence of the picnic party ; and the 
 sharp-tongued Judith pointed out so many 
 sylvan likenesses of residents in Lucullus 
 Mansion to her companion, Mr. Paragon, 
 and that so wittily, that that gentleman, 
 albeit not easily moved to mirth (of which
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 213 
 
 he was always somewhat suspicious, lest 
 he himself should be concerned in evoking 
 it), had more than once to seat himself on 
 the thick piled moss to have his laugh out; 
 on which occasions Judith very good- 
 naturedly sat down also. "If these little 
 opportunities should occur after our cham- 
 pagne luncheon," was her sagacious reflec- 
 tion, " this man will propose to me to a 
 dead certainty. And what shall I do 
 then ?" 
 
 Evy was under the sober convoy of Mr. 
 De Coucy, who perceived, or pretended to 
 perceive, in the trees, certain heraldic re- 
 semblances which enabled him to hold dis- 
 course upon his favourite topic, and to 
 commence that course of instruction with 
 which he had already menaced his fair 
 companion. He also sat down on the 
 moss, and pressed her to sit beside him, in 
 order that he might more conveniently ex- 
 patiate upon the alerion — a neighbouring
 
 214 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 wood-cut — which he was careful to observe^ 
 though modern heralds had degraded it 
 into a monster, was indeed originally no 
 other than our eagle, the cognizance of the 
 House of Lorraine, and an anagram upon 
 its name. When the unconscious tree had 
 done its duty, he passed on to others, nor 
 was he long before he found a beech like- 
 ness in profile to Alexander the Great, 
 which gave him the wished-for opportunity 
 of calling attention to his ring by Pyr- 
 goteles ; a subject that furnished him with 
 the materials for so Ions: a lecture that 
 among the crowd of thoughts that flitted 
 across Evy's mind during its progress, the 
 reflection that it was lucky that the colla- 
 tion which was awaiting them could not 
 get cold, found an involuntary place. 
 
 " What is that funny creature on that 
 other ring of yours ?" inquired Evy, pre- 
 sently, not that she cared, poor little soul, 
 what it was, but that Pyrgoteles was wear-
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 215 
 
 ing away the life within her, and any 
 change of topic seemed acceptable ; *' I 
 think I have seen something like it be- 
 fore." 
 
 "Funny creature ! my dear young lady," 
 replied Mr. De Coucy, in a tone that pro- 
 tested against such epithets, as not only 
 inapplicable, but sacrilegious, " that is the 
 tailless gryphon ; I wear it on my signet- 
 ring, as being the cognizance of the family 
 to which I have the honour to be not dis- 
 tantly related ; the Heytons." 
 
 ** To be sure," said Evy, with an unex- 
 pected interest ; ''I remember to have 
 seen it sculptured above the great gates 
 jeading into Dirleton Park at home." 
 
 '' Ah, yes ; since you have lived at Dun- 
 wich, you are doubtless acquainted with 
 my noble relative." 
 
 '' Very slightly ; that is, I have only seen 
 him once," said Evy. 
 
 " Well, he is not much to look at," ob-
 
 2x6 AT HER MERCY, 
 
 served Mr. De Coucy, smiling, '' though 
 he is a very excellent fellow when you 
 come to know him ; but you must have 
 met his nephew, Captain Hey ton — or as 
 we call him, Jack." 
 
 "Yes; I have met Captain Hey ton — 
 three or four times," answered Evy, with 
 a desperate effort to appear at once indif- 
 ferent and exact. 
 
 " Well, isn't he a capital fellow ? All 
 the family except his cousin Dick, who is 
 no more to be compared with him than 
 that scarabseus," — here Mr. De Coucy prod- 
 ded his umbrella viciously at a wandering 
 beetle, — "delight in Jack." 
 
 Evy blushed with pleasure — she had 
 liked this old gentleman well enough, but 
 had hitherto considered him a little tedious; 
 now she confessed to herself that she had 
 made a mistake, and that he had a very 
 agreeable way of putting things. 
 
 " Captain Hey ton was a general fa-
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 217 
 
 vourite in Dunwich, I think," assented 
 Evy. 
 
 *'So I should imagine," said Mr. De 
 Coucy, '' or his neighbours must be hard 
 to please. Why to begin with, he is one 
 of the best-looking fellows in England. 
 Don't you think so ?" 
 
 '' He is certainly good-looking," said 
 Evy, worrying the scarab^us in her turn 
 with the tip of her parasol. 
 
 * " Yes, indeed, and his face does not be- 
 lie his heart. The old lord, between our- 
 selves, would be unbearable if it was not 
 for Jack's civilizing influence. I never go 
 to the park myself unless Jack is there. 
 His smile irradiates the old house like a 
 perpetual sunbeam." 
 
 What a charming old man this was after 
 -all, and what a stream of pleasant talk lay 
 in him, when that rubbish of alerions and 
 gryphons did not choke it ! Why didn't 
 he go on ? She looked up with a radiant
 
 2i8 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 face to know the cause of his sudden si- 
 lence, and met his keen gray eyes gazing 
 down upon her with curious earnestness. 
 
 " Captain Hey ton is very much looked 
 up to in our neighbourhood," remarked she^ 
 with as great presence of mind as she could 
 assume ; *' he is the life and soul of the rifle 
 corps, and — and — of the cricket club, and 
 all that." 
 
 ^'I don't doubt it," replied Mr. De 
 Coucy ; *' ' noblesse oblige,' you know ; it 
 is — or ought to be — his place to take the 
 lead in everything of that sort. He will 
 be one day Lord Dirleton himself, and in 
 all probability inherit his uncle's wealth as 
 well as title. There is not a better match 
 in the county I should say than Jack. He 
 will probably marry some duke's daughter ; 
 indeed, I have heard his name associated 
 with one already, though I forget who it 
 was ; perhaps you have happened to 
 hear it."
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 219 
 
 " No," said Evy, as carelessly as she 
 could. '' I don't think I have." 
 
 What a dreadful old man this was after 
 all, and how fond of scandal. Even Pyr- 
 goteles was a preferable subject of conver- 
 sation to that which he had now selected. 
 If the wandering scarabseus had not by 
 this time made a tunnel for himself into 
 the moss he would probably have suffered 
 death by impalement. 
 
 '' Don't you think that they'll be waiting 
 luncheon for us, Mr. De Coucy ?" said Evy, 
 after a lonsf silence. 
 
 '' No, miy dear young lady, I don't think 
 Mrs. Bullion would permit them to wait 
 for anybody. You seem to have taken a 
 fancy to this ring of mine ; would you do 
 me the favour to accept it ?" 
 
 " Oh no, Mr. De Coucy," said Evy, re- 
 collecting, for the first time, Mrs. Barmby's 
 warning with reference to her companion's 
 weakness for making proposals of matri-
 
 220 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 mony. '' I could not think of doing that. 
 I have heard you say yourself that the 
 gem was two thousand years old, and of 
 priceless value." 
 
 " Nay, I didn't mean that ring, Miss — 
 Evy, not but that I would even part with 
 that, on one condition. That is if you would 
 
 consent to wear beside it Don't be 
 
 alarmed, my dear young lady," continued 
 he, gravely, for he had taken hold of her 
 hand, in a parental sort of way, it might 
 be, but also, perhaps, with a less platonic 
 intention, and she had withdrawn it rather 
 abruptly — " I am not going to ask you to 
 marry me, because I am afraid it would be 
 out of the question ; you needn't say so ; I 
 see it. It is the gryphon ring I w^ish you 
 to accept in token of my — my" — the poor 
 old gentleman gave a little sigh of regret 
 which, notwithstanding her displeasure, 
 touched Evy's tender heart — " in token of 
 my most sincere friendship. It will be
 
 THE RING AND THE RING GUARD. 221 
 
 acceptable to you, I know, for I have read 
 your secret — upon another's account at 
 least, If not on mine. Keep it for my sake 
 — or Jack's. If it reminds you when you 
 look at It, of a certain hopeless adorer 
 (which It may do from his likeness to a 
 gryphon — not so ? — well, thank you for 
 that at all events), I shall be gratified ; for 
 as to Jack — happy dog — you will not need 
 a reminder. What I have said, however, 
 about his being a great match is true — 
 though not about the duke's daughter, 
 which I Invented to resolve my suspicions 
 — and I can foresee that the course of true 
 love will run at least no smoother in your 
 case, my dear young lady, than it usually 
 does. Indeed, It must needs meet with 
 greater obstacles than common. If Regi- 
 nald de Coucy " — here he gallantly placed 
 his hand upon his heart — *' can aid at any 
 time in removing them, or in performing 
 any other friendly service for you, you may
 
 222 AT HER MERCY, 
 
 trust him to do so. The ring " — here he 
 respectfully placed it on Evy's finger — ** is 
 twice as large as it should be ; which is of 
 the less consequence since even if it fitted 
 you, you would not, probably, at present, 
 care to wear it. I will have it taken in at 
 the jeweller's, and then you will keep it, till 
 the day, which I hope to see, when you 
 may wear it as a guard above Jack's wed- 
 ding-ring. An old man's blessing on your 
 ring, dear, and " — he hesitated a moment, 
 meditating, perhaps a paternal kiss on the 
 forehead, then added cheerfully — -" and 
 now let us go to luncheon."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 
 
 HE cold collation was all that 
 could be expected of it, and 
 much more than what could 
 have been expected by those who had 
 been used to picnics, but not to Mrs. 
 Hodlin Barmby's superintendence of them. 
 It was not necessary to place the cham- 
 pagne " within the cooling brook," because 
 ice had been duly provided for that purpose 
 by her forethought, nor was it incumbent 
 upon the gentlemen to neglect their own 
 wants to minister to those of their fair com- 
 panions, since the staff of attendants was
 
 224 A T HER MERC V. 
 
 fully sufficient to " wait on appetite." 
 Whether digestion did so or not is doubtful, 
 since of chairs and table there were none 
 (how those old Romans must have suffered> 
 by-the-by, who eat their food leaning on 
 their left elbows !) and twice or thrice did 
 the contents of Mr. Bullion's plate, who had 
 no lap (but only a sort of money bag), slide 
 off his knees to fertilize the mossy lea. 
 However, what was wanting in comfort 
 was made up for by the charm of novelty 
 and the beauty of the dining-hall, with its 
 roof of cloudless blue showing through the 
 green rafters that sprang from those pillars 
 of silver beech. It was taken note of at 
 the time, to be remarked upon afterwards 
 with great significance, that Mr. Angelo 
 Hulet forgot to take his usual dinner pill 
 before sitting down to this exceptionally 
 unwholesome repast, and that Mrs. Sophia 
 Mercer, though seated upon a moss-grown 
 stump considerably higher than her custo-
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 225 
 
 mary chair, omitted to inquire for her foot- 
 stool. 
 
 When the meal had been discussed, and 
 the whole party arose to wander in the 
 wood, while the servants took their places, 
 this dyspeptic pair gradually dropped be- 
 hind the rest until they were quite alone. 
 It was the first time they had been so since 
 they had met at Lucullus Mansion, though 
 they had contrived under cover of medi- 
 cinal discussion to have many a confidential 
 talk together, and the circumstances seemed 
 not a little embarrassino^ to them both. At 
 all events neither spoke until they came 
 to a little pool, overhung by one giant 
 beech, that stood a little apart from its 
 companions, like a monarch attended by 
 his court. 
 
 " Do you remember this spot, Sophia ?'* 
 asked Mr. Hulet, with a tremor in his tone 
 that on this occasion at least mieht with- 
 out any affectation have been set down to 
 
 VOL. I. . 15
 
 226 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 nerves ; '' and — and — what happened 
 here ?" 
 
 '' Could I ever forget it ?" replied she in 
 whispered accents. " I have never been 
 here since, Angelo, yet I have pictured the 
 place ten thousand times." 
 
 '* And yet it was near forty years ago," 
 sighed he. It was a very genuine sigh, and 
 came from the bottom of his heart ; for the 
 moment he felt as deeply as any poet (the 
 most unpractical of us do sometimes), how 
 once in that very wood he had walked with 
 one he loved nine-and-thirty years ago ; 
 and, 
 
 " In the silver beechvvood where he walked that day, 
 The nine-and-thirty years were a mist that rolled away." 
 
 ** What is forty years," answered she, not 
 plumbing the depths of his sad thoughts, 
 but answering to the sentiment upon the 
 surface, " what is forty years or four hun- 
 dred to a woman who has once loved ?"
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 12-7 
 
 '' Did you know that this was the very 
 day — the anniversary ?" inquired he, touch- 
 ing gently the hand that rested on his 
 arm. 
 
 "How can you ask me such a question. 
 Angelo !" remonstrated she. 
 
 '' I thought you might have forgotten 
 the date, though not the fact. I had done 
 so myself, but was reminded of it the 
 other day, when looking over an old 
 diary." 
 
 ''Ah, we women need no diaries for such 
 a purpose," answered she with a plaintive 
 look — which was, however, a little hypocri- 
 tical, since as a matter of fact, she had her- 
 self forgotten the date in question altogether 
 until reminded of it by her companion. 
 ''Such dates are engraved on the tablets 
 of our hearts." 
 
 " I wonder whether we shall find it on 
 the tablet of this beech tree," returned Mr. 
 Hulet dryly, advancing towards it, and 
 
 15—2
 
 228 AT HER MERCY 
 
 examining carefully its mossy bole. *' I 
 remember cutting it out with my penknife, 
 and our initials also — and see, dear, here 
 they are." 
 
 About five feet from the ground, much 
 overgrown with lichen, and almost healed 
 by the slow cure of Time, could be still dis- 
 cerned certain gashes in the ancient trunk 
 which might stand for A. H., S. M., with 
 the date in question. 
 
 *' In twenty years more there will not a 
 trace be left of them," remarked Mr. Hulet; 
 " though to be sure that will not affect us, 
 Sophia, will It ? We shall be effaced our- 
 selves by that time." 
 
 "■ I shall, Angelo, without doubt," re- 
 turned his companion despondently. "There 
 Is a something here — no, It's a little higher," 
 (she took hold of Mr. Hulet's hand, and 
 just as Sir Isaac Newton used his sweet- 
 heart's finger for a tobacco-stopper, applied 
 it like a plaster to her fifth rib or there-
 
 UADER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 229 
 
 abouts) — "can't you feel something beating? 
 — that tells me I am not long for this 
 world." 
 
 For a moment the claims of dyspepsia 
 were paramount; but suddenly recollecting 
 that the occasion was supreme, and Love 
 its master, she added with downcast eyes, 
 " But to be sure it is no wonder that my 
 heart should beat, with one that was once 
 so dear, so near to it — Angelo." 
 
 " But even that can't account for its 
 beating on your right side instead of your 
 left," answered her companion, peevishly. 
 ''If you really had heart disease as I have, 
 you would never make a mistake of that 
 sort, my good woman. By Jove ! — it's com- 
 ing on now — how I wish I had not left 
 those invaluable drops in the pocket of the 
 carriage !" 
 
 " Take my drops," said Mrs. Mercer 
 eagerly, and proffering a little phial. 
 '' There is nothing," as Doctor Carambole
 
 23© AT HER MERCY. 
 
 says, " like an immediate application of a 
 remedy, even if it be not the one most pre- 
 cisely adapted to the case. * If your salts 
 are not at hand,' he used to say in his 
 funny way, ' take a swig at your sal volatile.' 
 Do you feel better, Angy ? — that is, I beg 
 your pardon, Mr. Hulet — oh, say you feel a 
 little better." 
 
 '' Yes ; I feel much better. And I don't 
 mind your calling me Angelo (you know I 
 never liked ' Angy') if you prefer it. I 
 don't mean to pretend, Sophia, that I 
 should have sought you out designedly, nor 
 even perhaps should have come to Bal- 
 combe had I known you were there ; but 
 having found you " here Mr. Hulet hesi- 
 tated, and stroked his chest, whether to 
 indicate affection, or to assist the action of 
 the drops he had just swallowed, was not 
 quite clear ; Mrs. Mercer, however, took it 
 for the former. 
 
 '' It seems like a providence, Angelo,.
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE, 231 
 
 does it not ?" said she demurely, " that 
 we two should have thus accidentally met 
 together after a separation of forty years.'* 
 Here she covered her eyes with her hand, 
 though not without regarding her com- 
 panion between her fingers, and exclaimed 
 pathetically, *' Oh why, oh why, did we 
 ever part ?" 
 
 " You can answer that question yourself 
 better than I can do it for you," answered 
 Mr. Hulet brusquely. 
 
 " Oh, Angelo, how can you say so !" 
 pleaded his companion. 
 
 " Because it is necessary on an occasion 
 of this sort, Sophia," returned he, '' above 
 all things to speak the truth. You and I 
 are here, if I mistake not, for the purpose 
 of coming to a mutual understanding — and 
 — and — in hopes to dove-tail our present 
 with our past ; to bridge over the great 
 gulf that has intervened since we last met ; 
 to make reconciliation, and so far as is pos-
 
 232 AT HER MERC Y. 
 
 sible, atonement with one another. This 
 cannot be effected by false representations 
 on either side ; let us allow we were 
 both in the wrong, and have done with 
 it. Perhaps I was irritable and impa- 
 tient " 
 
 *' No, no," remonstrated Mrs. Mercer 
 softly. It was not the least like the '* no, 
 no," of the House of Commons, but rather 
 that conjunction of negatives which British 
 grammarians describe as making an affir- 
 mative ; freely translated, it might have 
 been rendered, '' Well, you certainly were 
 all that, but don't let us talk about it." It 
 seemed that some few grains of the irri- 
 tability and impatience referred to still 
 lingered in Mr. Hulet's composition to 
 judge by the tone in which he replied : 
 
 " Very good then ; if I was not, it was 
 certainly your fault — as, indeed, I always 
 maintained it was. You worried me beyond 
 bearing with your caprice and obstinacy.
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 233 
 
 -and especially with your depreciation of 
 my respected ancestor." 
 
 Mrs. Mercer's mild blue eyes, which had 
 hitherto been moist and tender in their ex- 
 pression as those of a sucking-pig, here sud- 
 denly became, as it were, hard boiled ; and 
 the smile upon her lip took an upward curl. 
 
 '' It was very foolish of me, I allow, 
 Angelo," said she, '' to argue with you 
 upon that matter." 
 
 " It was not only foolish, madam, but it 
 was unbecoming, and in the worst possible 
 taste. However, let that pass ; I should 
 not have alluded to it, if you had not made 
 that idiotic inquiry, ' Why did we ever 
 part ?' It is my honest desire that we 
 should forget the past, except so far as it 
 may endear us to one another. I don't 
 want to make a fool of myself at my time 
 of life by talking sentiment, and any un- 
 necessary emotions cannot fail to aggravate 
 'Our respective symptoms, and be hurtful to
 
 234 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 US both; but I don't deny that I feel to- 
 wards you, Sophia, as I little thought — 
 when we parted years ago — ever again to 
 feel. When I met you that day at the 
 table-d'hote, it seemed really — if it isn't a 
 bull to say so — like falling in love at first 
 sight for the second time. It put me in 
 such a state that I took nearly a pint of 
 paregoric." 
 
 " Did you indeed ?" replied Mrs. Mercer, 
 once more all smiles again. " Now that 
 was very touching ; and I am sure I wished 
 for my part, when I first saw you enter the 
 drawing-room, that I had had some pare- 
 goric to take. You cost me a terrible 
 spasm, Angelo." 
 
 **So I understood," replied Mr. Hulet, 
 with the air of a man who is flattered at 
 the sensation he has produced ; " and the 
 emotion did you credit. Well, the effect 
 in my case at least was not transient. I 
 said to myself, ' Sophia may have had her
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 235. 
 
 faults — as indeed, my dear, you had — 'but 
 after all, what woman is perfect ? Taught, 
 by experience, and improved by nine-and- 
 thirty years of solitary reflection, she will 
 doubtless be now another creature.' I 
 found you so, Sophia, while in all that 
 formally endeared you to me — ahem ! — or 
 nearly all — for. Gad, what a beautiful girl 
 you were in those days — • — " 
 
 ** Was I ?" answered Mrs. Mercer, softly; 
 " and ah, what a handsome fellow were 
 you, dear Angy !" 
 
 " Well, yes," said her companion thought- 
 fully. " When we looked down into this 
 very pool together as we are looking now, 
 I suppose it did give rather a different re- 
 flection of the pair of us. But you are a 
 very fine woman still, Sophia, upon my life 
 you are." 
 
 The tone of the speaker was grave and 
 genuine ; that of one who imagines he is 
 speaking the truth, even if it be not the
 
 236 A T HER MERC Y. 
 
 truth ; and it thrilled his companion's an- 
 cient frame with grateful tenderness, nay, 
 -almost re-kindled the cold embers on the 
 hearth of love. 
 
 " You were always a gentleman, Angelo,'* 
 rejoined she, humbly. " Incapable of an 
 unkind word, unless provoked, and most 
 sensitive with respect to the feelings of 
 others." 
 
 '' But, by Gad, I mean it, Sophia," con- 
 tinued Mr. Hulet, earnestly. " Some poet 
 — I don't know who — speaks of some 
 pretty girl — at least, I suppose it must 
 have been that — who was a sight to make 
 an old man young ; well, when I first saw 
 you at Balcombe, I swear, I felt like a 
 young man again. ' If Sophia will forgive 
 me,' thought I " 
 
 '' There was nothing to forgive, Angelo," 
 whispered his companion. 
 
 '' Oh yes, there was. I was a cantan- 
 kerous brute enough, I have no doubt.
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 237- 
 
 However, let me finish. I made up my 
 mind, I say, from that moment to ask you 
 to let bygones be bygones. I arranged 
 this picnic for that very purpose, and fixed 
 it upon the anniversary of a certain event, 
 with this very Identical pool and tree in 
 my mind's eye. There must have been 
 some sentiment left in me, you must allow, 
 to have planned that, eh ? and now it has 
 all come to pass so favourably thus far, let 
 me ask you to crown my little plot with 
 success. Underneath this tree, where we 
 first plighted troth, dear Sophy, let us once 
 more renew it. Come, what say you, * yes,' 
 or * no?' " 
 
 There was no need for her to reply to 
 the question, for the answer was written 
 in her face ; its wrinkles had suddenly 
 become smoothed away as if by magic, its 
 look of feverish discontent about the mouth,, 
 which habitual 111 health had engendered, 
 was exchanged for a graceful smile ; the
 
 238 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 downcast eyes were lifted up, and met his 
 own with that sunny glance, which a hun- 
 dred winters cannot so utterly kill, but that 
 it melts their snows, and shines out once 
 again upon some beloved object — though 
 it be from the death-bed. Mr. Hulet bent 
 down his face, and kissed her tenderly ; it 
 was the first kiss he had given to woman 
 (save to his niece) since he had parted 
 from this one, nearly two generations ago, 
 and a sacred privacy one would have 
 thought was due to it. The genius loci, 
 however, being probably some satyrical 
 character, had deemed otherwise ; for 
 scarcely had the salute been administered, 
 and as tenderly reciprocated, when a half- 
 suppressed shriek of laughter rang out 
 through the wood. 
 
 " Oh my goodness, somebody has seen 
 Tus, Angelo ; who can it be ? Pray give 
 me back my drops," cried Mrs. Mercer, 
 anervously.
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE, 239- 
 
 " I don't care who has seen us," an- 
 swered Mr. Hulet, boldly, " though I think 
 I recognize in that idiotic yell, the tones of 
 that fellow from the antipodes — Paragon. 
 We must be prepared for the ridicule of 
 fools, and hold ourselves above it. Take 
 my arm, Sophia — the arm that you will 
 lean on so long as I live — and let us rejoin 
 our friends."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 EVY ASKS A FAVOUR. 
 
 HE picnic party came home at eve 
 from BIrbeck Beeches in the 
 same order as they went, but 
 by no means under the same circumstances. 
 It was observed by the other occupants of 
 their respective vehicles that Mr. De 
 Coucy, who was commonly a great talker, 
 and especially when ladles were present, 
 maintained a complete silence ; whereas 
 Mr. Paragon, who was ordinarily as dumb 
 as Memnon's statue (without its exceptional 
 conduct in the early morning), was loqua-
 
 EVV ASKS A FAVOUR. 241 
 
 cious and restless. If Mr. Bullion's propo- 
 sition of the cheap champagne, with which 
 the colonist had so improperly made merry, 
 had been carried, things might have hap- 
 pened otherwise ; but as it was, exhilarated 
 by the best and purest Perrier Jouet, he 
 had proposed to Judith, and was certainly 
 under the impression that he had been ac- 
 cepted. Judith, on her part, without con- 
 fiding this tremendous event to Evy, was 
 more affectionate and demonstrative to her 
 than ever; and Mr. Hulet and Mrs. Mer- 
 cer sat opposite to them without inter- 
 changing a syllable, but with their hands 
 fast locked together beneath the railway 
 rug. If the former had ever sat to a 
 sculptor he might have been correctly, as 
 well as poetically, rendered, with "gout 
 flying about him," but it had never settled 
 anywhere ; and when, like a little mouse, 
 Mrs. Mercer's tiny foot stole towards his 
 own, and softly trod upon his toe, he smiled 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 a welcome to it. Once or twice she made 
 a mistake, and trod on Judith's, but that 
 sagacious young woman, far from exposing 
 the error, made the expected reciprocation 
 with the utmost good nature. A more 
 complete example of doing good, or at 
 least of conferring happiness on another by- 
 stealth, it would be difficult among the 
 Annals of Good Deeds to find. 
 
 When Evy put up her cheek for her 
 uncle to kiss that night before retiring to 
 her room, he pressed his lips to it with un- 
 usual kindness, but in place of opening the 
 door for her as usual — for notwithstanding 
 his invalidish ways, he was as polite as 
 Chesterfield — he motioned her to a chair, 
 and said, 
 
 " Don't go just yet, Evy, I want to talk 
 with you." 
 
 She knew what was coming quite well, 
 and would gladly have relieved him from 
 his evident embarrassment by telling him
 
 EVV ASKS A FAVOUR. 243 
 
 SO ; but on the whole she judged it better 
 to be silent. 
 
 '' I am going to tell you something," he 
 began, '' which at the first blush will cause 
 me, I fear, to sink in your good opinion, 
 Evy — that is I mean " — for she had shaken 
 her pretty head, and smiled a smile that 
 was a thousand negatives — *' as to my good 
 sense and judgment. When an old fellow 
 of sixty-five bethinks him of matrimony, 
 folks are inclined to compliment his heart 
 at the expense of his wits ; and I think 
 they are mostly right." 
 
 " That must depend on circumstances, 
 uncle, surely." 
 
 "Just so. A lonely man far advanced 
 on the down-hill of life may marry for 
 company's sake, to insure a faithful friend 
 to tend him at the last ; but no such excuse 
 could be given for me, who have the dearest 
 and most dutiful of friends in you, Evy." 
 
 '^ You are very kind to say so, uncle," 
 
 16 — 2
 
 244 AT HER MERCY, 
 
 said Evy, the tears gathering in her beau- 
 tiful eyes in spite of herself 
 
 " I only say the truth, and less than the 
 truth, my darling, and being so fortunate as 
 I am in possessing such a niece, I allow 
 that it would be the height of folly in a 
 widower such as you have always supposed 
 me (as I conclude) to contract anew a 
 matrimonial alliance." 
 
 Here he stopped a little, and fell to 
 pacing the room, while Evy sat in silent 
 astonishment ; she could not have helped 
 him on to his explanation now, even if she 
 would. 
 
 " The fact is, my darling, Mrs. Angelo 
 Hulet" (he always called himself Angelo, 
 though he was an only son) " is still alive, 
 and under this very roof Perhaps you 
 can guess now, who it is ?" 
 
 *' It is Mrs. Mercer, I suppose, uncle ?" 
 
 *'Yes ; it is Mrs. Mercer, or Mrs. Sophia 
 Mercer, as she calls herself, since after our
 
 E VY ASKS A FA VO UR, 245 
 
 separation she reassumed her maiden name. 
 We parted from one another, by mutual 
 agreement, nearly forty years ago, upon the 
 ground of incompatibility of temper, after 
 a very short experience of one another in- 
 deed. It may be urged that people's 
 tempers do not alter — except for the worse 
 — with time, but I hope that we are both 
 at all events a little wiser, and shall be 
 able to act towards each other more judi- 
 ciously. At all events we have made up 
 our minds to try the experiment." 
 
 '' I wish you joy, my dearest uncle, with 
 all my heart," cried Evy, rising and throw- 
 ing her arms about his neck. " If you 
 were about to make a new alliance, I should 
 certainly not have dreamt of questioning 
 your judgment ; but to return, even thus 
 
 late, to one whom you have prom " 
 
 Here Evy coloured, recollecting that it was 
 not her duty to preach to her uncle, and 
 came to a full stop.
 
 246 A T HER MERCY, 
 
 '' Promised to cleave to until my life's 
 end, you were about to say, Evy," said 
 Mr. Hulet, rubbing his nose in comical 
 embarrassment ; *' yes, I am quite aware of 
 that fact; but the truth is (though it is 
 not generally known) that the compilers 
 of the marriage service were for the most 
 part — bachelors. As to loving, that may 
 be possible with persons of exceptionally 
 good principle, for it is said one ought to 
 love even one's enemies, but I defy a saint 
 to ' cherish ' a woman that won't be 
 cherished. If, for example, when you offer 
 me that arrowroot which you make so ad- 
 mirably, my dear Evy, I were always to 
 knock over the basin with the back of my 
 hand, you would give it up at last as a 
 sheer waste of time and trouble. You 
 would be a fool if you didn't. Well, that 
 was my case, or something like it, with 
 respect to Sophia. However, de disjundd 
 nil nisi bomim, and especially when you are
 
 EVV ASKS A FA VOUR. 247 
 
 going to be re-united. She is as kind- 
 hearted a woman as ever Hved, notwith- 
 standing her little foibles ; and that which 
 rocommends her to me as much as any- 
 thing is, that she has taken a genuine 
 liking to yourself, Evy." 
 
 ** Mrs. Mercer has been always so de- 
 monstratively kind, uncle, that it is a real 
 pleasure to me to find in her a near rela- 
 tion." 
 
 *' And I have no doubt she will continue 
 to be so, Evy. If I thought otherwise she 
 should be no wife of mine again, I promise 
 you. Indeed, I have considered your in- 
 terests throughout this matter, as indeed it 
 was my duty to do, fully as much as my 
 own. In the first place, Evy, it is tho- 
 roughly understood between your aunt and 
 myself that our reunion shall not in any 
 degree affect your future position. Neither 
 she nor I, to do us justice, are very co- 
 vetous people ; when we parted company
 
 248 A T HER MERCY. 
 
 on our life journey, as we thought for ever, 
 each of us took the entire fortune which 
 severally belonged to us without invoking 
 the tender mercies of the law, and now that 
 I have told her that you will not only be my 
 heiress, but that I am resolved to settle an 
 ample provision on you in the event of your 
 marriage, so far from offering any objection, 
 she seems inclined to increase your fortune 
 out of her own funds." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, uncle, I have deserved 
 no such kindness, even at your hands," 
 sobbed Evy, overcome with the old man's 
 affectionate solicitude. " Oh, how can I 
 ever thank you for it as I ought ?" 
 
 " First, by drying your tears, my darling,'' 
 returned Mr. Hulet, tenderly ; " and then 
 by telling me that you will not desert your 
 old uncle, or cease to fill his house with sun- 
 shine, until such a time as Lord Dirleton's 
 ' Jack ' — if he is to be the fortunate man 
 — or some other equally lucky dog, comes
 
 EVV ASKS A FA VOUR. 249 
 
 to take you off my hands. I may need you 
 more than ever now, Evy, though I hope 
 and beheve I shall not, and on the other 
 hand if all goes well, and your aunt and I 
 prove a comfort to one another, you will 
 have the satisfaction, when your wedding- 
 day comes — -and a very, very sad one to 
 your selfish old uncle it will be, my dear — 
 of knowing that you leave me, not as you 
 would now, a lonely valetudinarian, de- 
 pendent upon hireling aid for his many 
 wants, but in good hands ; such as under- 
 stand making possets, and applying poul- 
 tices, and every art that can make home 
 liappy ; don't you see, my darling ?" 
 
 She saw as well as her tears would let 
 her. It was evident that the kind old 
 gentleman was affecting for her sake a 
 cheerfulness, and perhaps even a confidence, 
 that he was very far from feeling. 
 
 " Well, well, that is settled, my dear," 
 continued he. " Your aunt and I have no
 
 250 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 preliminaries to go through in the way of 
 wooing, nor even of wedding, and shall be 
 reunited almost at once. In the meantime 
 and while I am still my own master — for 
 one never knows what may happen ; a man 
 may hold his own at one time, as indeed I 
 did, and pass under the yoke at another — 
 is there anything you would like to ask of 
 me ? It would be a pleasure to me, as you 
 know, to grant it." 
 
 *' Indeed I have all I want, and more, 
 dear uncle," said Evy. " But there is a 
 favour which I would very earnestly en- 
 treat of you for another — for poor Judith. 
 I don't think she is quite such a favourite 
 with her aunt " 
 
 '' She is not her aunt ; she is your aunt," 
 observed Mr. Hulet. 
 
 " That may be, dear uncle, but up to 
 the last week she has been in the position 
 of her near relative, and certainly taught 
 to believe that she would be 'provided for
 
 EVV ASKS A FA VOUR. 251 
 
 as such. Now, pleased as I am to have 
 won Mrs. Mercer's affection, it would dis- 
 tress me very much if I thought I had done 
 so at Judith's expense." 
 
 " I don't see how you can help being 
 liked, Evy," returned Mr. Hulet, '' nor 
 even being liked better than Judith. It 
 seems to me, though I have nothing to say 
 against the young lady in question, that 
 you are worth ten thousand of her." 
 
 " You may be just a little prejudiced in 
 making that estimate, Uncle Angelo/' said 
 Evy, smiling. " But, at all events, it would 
 make me very miserable should our respec- 
 tive interests come into collision with any 
 disadvantage to Judith. What I have to 
 entreat of you is to use your influence with 
 my aunt in her favour ; some suitable pro- 
 vision would, I suppose, in any case be 
 made for her, and if, as you hint, Mrs. 
 Mercer was so good as to think of adding 
 to my fortune, I would greatly prefer that
 
 252 AT HER MERC V. 
 
 that sum, whatever it may be, should be 
 given, instead, to Judith." 
 
 " But the girl has no occasion for it," 
 reasoned Mr. Hulet. " She will, as you 
 say, have a moderate independence secured 
 to her, but even then, I suppose, will con- 
 tinue to live under our roof ?" 
 
 " No, uncle, she will not," answered 
 Evy. " It was told me as a secret, but I 
 think I am right in confiding to you, that 
 Judith is engaged." 
 
 ''That is very odd," said Mr. Hulet. 
 " Sophia has often talked to me about the 
 girl, and yet never mentioned that." 
 
 '' It is the fact, nevertheless, for I had it 
 from Judith's own lips, uncle. She is en- 
 gaged to a young artist, whom Mrs. Mercer 
 disapproves of on account of his poverty ; 
 and if the poor girl had a fortune of her 
 own, there would be no obstacle to their 
 happiness." 
 
 " Then, by gad ! it shall be removed, if
 
 E VY ASKS A FA VO UR. 253 
 
 I pay the money out of my own pocket," 
 exclaimed Mr. Hulet. '' Not that I am so 
 very fond of Miss Judith myself, mark 
 you ; but for the exactly opposite reason. 
 To tell you the truth, the notion of having 
 that girl an inmate of my house for life 
 somewhat appalled me. My hope was 
 that that antipodean creature — what's his 
 name ? — Paragon, would be fool enough to 
 marry her out of hand ; but if she has al- 
 ready found a victim, so much the better 
 I don't mind buying the flowers for that 
 sacrifice, at the cost of a few thousands. 
 If Sophia declines to portion the young 
 woman, I'll do it myself; so you may make 
 your mind perfectly easy upon that score." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, dear uncle ; it will 
 be a great pleasure to me to tell Judith 
 such good nev/s. But you must promise 
 not to breathe a word to my aunt about the 
 young artist." 
 
 " I promise that, my dear, with all my
 
 254 AT HER MERC V. 
 
 heart, and the more easily since I have 
 nothing to breathe," rephed Mr. Hulet, 
 smiHng ; " you have not even mentioned 
 his name. What is it ?" 
 
 " Well, the fact is, I don't know what it 
 is," said Evy, smiling in her turn. *' She 
 only calls him her Augustus." 
 
 " Ah ! well I pity her Augustus, that's 
 all — I may be about to do a foolish thing, 
 myself," added Mr. Hulet, musingly ; " I 
 dare say I am ; but Miss Judith's Augustus 
 — however, you have taken the young 
 •woman under your protection, and therefore 
 I will not say a word against her." 
 
 " But what have you to say against poor 
 Judith, uncle ?" 
 
 •* Nothing, Evy, nothing. I don't like 
 her, I confess ; and yet I can't give you 
 my reason for it : 
 
 " ' I do not like thee, Doctor Fell, 
 The reason why I cannot tell, 
 But this I know, and know full well, 
 I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.'
 
 EVV ASKS A FA VOUR. 255 
 
 By-the-by, talking of doctors, how I hate 
 Doctor Carambole. However," here he 
 sighed, ** it's too late now to think of 
 that — one more kiss, my darling Evy, and 
 good-night."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 
 
 UMOUR, full of tongues," must 
 necessarily have always had a 
 good many stories to tell, but 
 the older she gets, as it seems to me, the 
 more garrulous she becomes. The in- 
 stitution of the telegraph and of the penny 
 dailies, of course, awakens a thousand 
 echoes more or less untrustworthy, as well 
 as enlarges the sphere of her operations ; 
 but independently of them, scandal is more 
 rife. The mention of that mysterious 
 word — so dear to newspaper writers — 
 " transpire," has had, I am inclined to be-
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 257 
 
 lieve, a baleful effect ; and what we don't 
 hear to the disadvantage of our fellow- 
 creatures, we contrive to take In, like Joey 
 Ladle, *' through the pores." 
 
 Except upon some such supposition how 
 is it to be accounted for that every tenant 
 of Lucullus Mansion by ten a.m., on the 
 morning after that fateful picnic, was not 
 only in possession of the fact that Mr. 
 Angelo Hulet was engaged to marry Mrs. 
 Sophia Mercer, but that each had a totally 
 different, and at the same time an entirely 
 dependable account of the matter ; a special 
 and exclusive edition published gratuitously 
 in confidential whispers. It was love at 
 first sight ; It was an old attachment ; he 
 had loved her hopelessly as somebody else's 
 wife ; she had loved him despairingly as 
 somebody else's husband. There was no 
 end in short to the various versions of the 
 affair, and some of them reflected anything 
 but credit upon the two respectable persons 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 who were the objects of all this specula- 
 tion. Such very queer questions, indeed, 
 were asked of Evy by some of her own sex, 
 couched in a tone of sympathy and con- 
 dolence that made them fifty times more 
 shocking, that she was at her wit's end 
 what to answer. She had not received 
 permission from her uncle to disclose the 
 true state of the case, and she shrank 
 from asking it of him, while Mrs. Mercer, 
 in a private interview before breakfast, 
 had laid on her a positive injunction of 
 secrecy. 
 
 " Don't speak of it, my dear ; I can 
 scarcely bear to think of it. The idea of 
 my having been your aunt these twenty 
 years without your knowing it ! I am de- 
 lighted, of course ; scarcely less on your 
 account, my dear girl, than on my own. 
 But don't let us speak of it ; at all events 
 just at present. Push me my footstool. 
 Doctor Carambole says that to one in my
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE, 259 
 
 critical state of health, emotion may be 
 destruction. Pass me my drops." 
 
 But it was impossible to permit her 
 respected relatives, who now paraded the 
 garden side by side, or sat within doors 
 with the arms of their arm-chairs almost 
 interlaced, in defiance or ignorance of what 
 anybody was saying about them, to be for 
 many days under such shocking suspicions, 
 and Evy took heart of grace and told Mrs. 
 Hodlin Barmby all about it. 
 
 It was not easy to astonish, by any social 
 revelation, the mistress of Lucullus Man- 
 sion, but this news did take that lady con- 
 siderably aback. 
 
 " You surprise me, my dear Evy, beyond 
 all expression," said she. " I could have 
 staked my existence, for one thing, that 
 your aunt, as she turns out to be, was an 
 old maid. Of course, I took your uncle for 
 a widower, and a very determined one. It 
 is unaccountable to me that having once 
 
 17 — 2
 
 26o A T HER MERCY. 
 
 taken such a step as to separate from his 
 wife, he should retract it. It is very credit- 
 able to our sex, my dear, is it not ?" 
 
 *' Indeed, Mrs. Barmby, I don't see 
 that," said Evy, not without some indig- 
 nation, for she had not reached that time 
 of life when ladies desert their colours and 
 go over to the other side, on such oc- 
 casions. '' I think it is only natural that 
 my uncle's heart should soften toward the 
 companion of his youth, and regret his 
 estrangement from her. Ever since he 
 met her, the remembrance of the past has 
 affected him deeply, as I could well per- 
 ceive, though, of course, I was ignorant of 
 the cause." 
 
 *' You don't say so ! Well, now, I should 
 have thought Mr. Hulet — kind, excellent 
 gentleman as he is — would have been no 
 more affected by old times, that is in a 
 sentimental way, than by last week's news- 
 paper. To be sure he seems very fond of
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 261 
 
 her ; in fact, to persons unaware of the 
 peculiar circumstances of the case, rather 
 •demonstratively so. I conclude," added 
 Mrs. Barmby, with some anxiety, "they 
 are not going to remain with us very 
 long." 
 
 "" I rather think not," said Evy, simply. 
 " My uncle, who finds himself much bene- 
 fited by his sojourn at Balcombe, is going 
 to take a house in the neighbourhood, I 
 believe ; my aunt and he, indeed, are gone 
 together this very afternoon to look at Cliff 
 Cottage." 
 
 "• I saw them go," replied Mrs. Barmby, 
 '' and very much together they were. You 
 were quite right to confide in me, my dear, 
 quite ; but people's tongues will wag in 
 ^pite of the most satisfactory statements ; 
 and I fear it will be a little difficult to ex- 
 plain matters even now." 
 
 Mrs. Barmby's forebodings were amply 
 realized. It had been noticed that Evy and
 
 262 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 herself were engaged in confidential conver- 
 sation, and no sooner was their talk concluded 
 than more than one lady made excuse for "in- 
 terviewing " the mistress of the house, and 
 sounding her upon the all-important topic. 
 Such persons would have had to sink their 
 artesian wells of inquiry very deep indeed 
 in the case of Mrs. Hodlin Barmby, and 
 perhaps not to find truth at the bottom of 
 them after all, had that lady been minded 
 to conceal it, but as it was she retailed to 
 them what she had just heard. Mrs. Bul- 
 lion, who rarely condescended to mingle 
 with the rest, but remained for the most 
 part in her apartments — engaged, it was 
 rumoured, in financial operations upon 
 her own account — was the last to hear 
 the news, drops of which, however, had 
 mysteriously permeated to her through the 
 walls (which, as we know, have ears), and 
 tempted her from her retirement. 
 • " What is this I hear ?" inquired she,.
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 263 
 
 of Mrs. General Storks, who was not 
 usually honoured with her notice, but who 
 happened to be the first she met, ''about 
 Mr. Hulet aud Mrs. Mercer ? Is it really 
 true that they are engaged to one an- 
 other ?" 
 
 '•' I understand so, madam," replied the 
 widow, gravely, " and also that they have 
 taken Cliff Cottage." 
 
 ** Taken the cottage ! Why that seems 
 a little precipitous, does it not ?" 
 
 " The garden is so, very," answered 
 Mrs. Stork. *' I think it scarcely safe for 
 one so near-sighted as Mrs. Mercer to walk 
 in it." 
 
 " I was referring to the haste of their 
 proceedings," explained Mrs. Bullion, ma- 
 jestically, " and not to the perpendicular 
 nature of the locality. They are going 
 to be married then, I conjecture, almost 
 immediately ?" 
 
 '' No they're not," replied Mrs. Storks,
 
 264 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 carelessly, and holding the lace-work on 
 which she was engaged at a critical angle. 
 ** They are not going to be married at all." 
 
 Mrs. Bullion's full height was about five 
 feet eight ; she drew herself up to five 
 feet nine ; while her jaw fell almost an inch 
 and a half, and with an audible click. If 
 the Funds had dropped twenty per cent, she 
 could scarcely have evinced greater horror. 
 
 ** They are going to live at Cliff Cottage, 
 and not going to be married at all," re- 
 peated she, in stupefied accents. 
 
 ''Just so," said Mrs. Storks; "if you'll 
 kindly step out of the light, because this 
 work requires all one's eyesight, I'll tell 
 you all about it. You must know they've 
 been married already ; half a century 
 ago," &c. 
 
 And so, within a few hours, the love 
 story of Angelo and Sophia became public 
 property, and was commented upon from 
 one end of Balcombe to another, and in
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 265 
 
 .all its aspects. To Judith, Evy had her- 
 self communicated the facts, though not 
 more confidentially, or with greater detail, 
 than she had used with Mrs. Barmby. 
 There was something about Judith, though 
 she viewed her with no such disfavour as 
 did others of her sex, that did not invite 
 her confidence, and upon this subject espe- 
 cially, which to Evy herself was upon her 
 uncle's account a sacred one, she feared to 
 excite her cynical mirth. Even as it was, 
 Judith showed her scorn for the elderly 
 pair, who flattered themselves that they 
 would find in their December the warmth 
 that had been denied to their July, and 
 only when Evy went on to speak of what 
 Mr. Hulet had promised at her request to 
 do for Judith, did she drop her mocking 
 tone. Then, indeed, she became all grati- 
 tude and humility ; called Evy her " bene- 
 factress, whose kindness she should never, 
 ■never forget," and manifested signs of deep
 
 266 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 emotion. This did not, however, prevent 
 her from attending to business. She con- 
 gratulated Evy that since Mr. Hulet was 
 already her aunt's husband, there would be 
 no occasion for his making a fresh will, so 
 that her future fortune would be precisely 
 what it had been before — an idea that had 
 not occurred to her companion ; and then 
 proceeding to her own affairs besought 
 Evy to persuade her uncle to put his pro- 
 mise to ensure her independence into 
 effect at once. 
 
 " Such generous resolutions are only too 
 apt to die out, and it is always best to 
 strike while the iron is hot," said she. 
 " I am afraid you think me mean and mer- 
 cenary, dear Evy, for being so importu- 
 nate ; but, ah ! you do not know how 
 bitter the bread of dependence is ; when 
 you tell me of this blessed sufficiency in 
 store for me, I cannot believe my tingling 
 ears, and long to see it realized. More-
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 267 
 
 over/' added she, with a faltering voice 
 and a down-droop of her long eyelashes, 
 *' you must not forget that all this is not 
 pure selfishness, dear Evy." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, I do not, Judith," pro- 
 tested her companion, earnestly, '' I am 
 well aware you are thinking of another far 
 more than yourself 
 
 '* Ah ! then you yourself must know 
 what it is to love," cried Judith, looking 
 quickly up. *' Noble as your nature is, 
 Evy, I thought there must be some sym- 
 pathy at work to move you to such gene- 
 rosity as you have shown to me. I trust I 
 may one day behold the object of your love, 
 and tell him how you have striven, and what 
 you have wrought, for me for his sake." 
 
 It is usually the pride of a young girl 
 to confide to one of her own sex and age 
 the story of her love, and yet there was 
 something within her that forbade Evy to 
 open her heart to her companion.
 
 268 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 " I am not so happy as you imagine, 
 Judith," answered she, evasively, conscious 
 that she was crimson from brow to chin, 
 but speaking as calmly as she could ; " nor 
 even so happy as yourself." 
 
 " No, because I have a confidante — a 
 friend in whom I trust, and in whom I have 
 reposed all, Evy ; while you, I see, have 
 none. I do not reproach you, however, 
 dear, nor need you fear my curiosity ; your 
 secret is as safe from me as it would have 
 been with me, should you have thought 
 proper to disclose it." 
 
 '' Indeed, Judith, you do me wrong," an- 
 swered Evy, whom Judith's rebuke affected 
 the more keenly since she felt it was de- 
 served. '' What I meant to say was that 
 you were more fortunate than I, since a 
 remediable want — that of mere money — is 
 the only bar to your happiness, while, in 
 my case, there are other obstacles." 
 
 " Indeed ?" answered Judith, sympa-
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 269 
 
 thisingly. " Oh, would that it lay in my 
 power, as it has been in yours, to remove 
 them." 
 
 The tenderness of Judith's tone, and the 
 touch on her arm which accompanied it 
 from Judith's hand, were too much for 
 Evy's gentle nature ; and she straightway 
 told all the history of her engagement 
 with her beloved Jack, which, after all, 
 it was an immense pleasure to her to 
 do. 
 
 Upon that subject, from which her gentle 
 thoughts were never long absent, her lips 
 were sealed as regarded her uncle, and 
 sympathy was what she yearned for. The 
 treasure of love does not lie in a girl's 
 heart, like gold in a miser's chest, to be 
 gloated over in secret only : she delights 
 to show her glittering wealth to others, and 
 to be wished joy of its possession, as a poet 
 enjoys reading his verse in a friend's ear. 
 To recount where and how she had first
 
 270 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 met her love, to paint his looks and to de- 
 scribe his talk, is in some sort to realize 
 once more the fond experience. 
 
 Judith listened with rapt attention to 
 her companion's recital ; her fine eyes 
 sparkling, and her dusky cheeks aglow 
 with excitement. 
 
 " Your tale is a romance indeed, dear 
 Evy, and worth a score of commonplace 
 love stories such as mine," cried she, ad- 
 miringly. " And so you will be Lady 
 Dirleton, one day, and live in a grand house, 
 and set the fashions to a county." 
 
 " Indeed, Judith, I don't know that ; 
 though if so great a happiness as to marry 
 him I love is vouchsafed to me, I suppose 
 these things will follow, since I trust he 
 will not be disinherited for my sake. All 
 1 care for, however, is Jack himself." 
 
 " Of course," answered Judith, musing ; 
 " and yet it must be a fine thing to have 
 wealth and title, and to rule others — or at
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 271 
 
 least it seems so to me who have neither, 
 and who have always been compelled to 
 obey. How charming you will look, Evy, 
 with a coronet upon your brow " 
 
 " And a sceptre in my right hand like 
 the Queen of Spades," broke in Evy, 
 laughing ; " well, no ; I am afraid, since 
 I cannot pretend to the philosophy of my 
 uncle, who stigmatizes all such things as 
 baubles, that I shall be scarcely equal to 
 the weight of such greatness." 
 
 " Ah ! you are like the lady of the Bur- 
 leigh ballad, are you, whose great position 
 weighed her down," answered Judith, in 
 so sharp a tone that it almost seemed con- 
 temptuous : — 
 
 " ' Faint she grew and ever fainter, 
 
 As she murmured, " Oh, that he 
 Were once more that landscape-painter 
 That did win my heart from me." ' " 
 
 *' Nay, I do not say that," replied Evy, 
 with a touch of pride. '' I trust I have
 
 272 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 enough of my uncle's good sense about 
 me not to be dismayed by the prospect of 
 an accidental distinction. And I must say, 
 Judith, considering the profession of the 
 man you love, that your quotation is not 
 very complimentary to him." 
 
 " That is true," answered Judith, softly.. 
 *' I was only speaking generally, of course. 
 vSuch ideas in a girl in my position are, 
 \vithout doubt, absurdly out of place ; but 
 I confess I should like Augustus to turn 
 out to be a peer of the realm, and to wear, 
 myself, a coronet by right of it." 
 
 " It would become you vastly well," said 
 Eva, simply, and regarding her beautiful 
 companion with undisguised admiration. 
 *' I am sure no one who saw you so attired 
 would believe you to be in the enjoyment 
 of an ' honour to which you were not 
 born.' But, heigho !" added she, with a 
 little sigh, '' the thing is but little more 
 likely to happen to myself than to you,.
 
 AN UNWILLING CONFIDENCE. 273 
 
 Judith. More than five months have to 
 elapse before I am permitted to see him, 
 even If I do see him ; and our prospects 
 may be no brighter then than they are 
 now." 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CLIFF COTTAGE. 
 
 IILIFF COTTAGE— a residence 
 whose appellation had something 
 in It of the pride that apes hu- 
 mility, being In fact not a cottage at all, 
 but a villa of considerable size — was situ- 
 ated a quarter of a mile or so beyond the 
 last outskirts of Balcombe, in rather a re- 
 markable position. The red sandstone 
 rocks, of which the coast line was com- 
 posed, were in that spot perpendicular, and 
 had arranged themselves in a double line ; 
 and on the plateau of turf that interposed 
 between them the house was placed. At
 
 CLIFF COTTAGE. 275 
 
 back and front of it, therefore, there was a 
 precipice of red rock, the head of the one 
 in the clouds, and the foot of the other in 
 the sea. A more romantic situation could 
 scarcely have been imagined, nor indeed a 
 more beautiful one, for so much of the 
 plateau as was not occupied by the house 
 itself was made into garden ground, where 
 under shelter from the upper cliff even the 
 least hardy flowers throve and flourished. 
 Sheer as this shelter was, its soft material 
 was honey-combed by wind and weather 
 into a thousand fantastic shapes, ranging 
 from a deep-set monastic cell, to some 
 weird likeness to lettering, such as that 
 which showed itself on Belshazzar's wall. 
 On the lower cliff a more powerful graver 
 — Ocean — had hewn out echoing caverns, 
 guarded by gigantic pillars, but nothing 
 •of this could be seen from " the cliff 
 walk," as it was called, which ran 
 round the garden, and only by a low 
 
 18—2
 
 276 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 Stone wall was separated from the sheer 
 abyss. 
 
 It was said that the sea was encroaching 
 upon Red Rock Bay, as the place was 
 named, and that this fence had every five 
 years or so to be removed, and placed 
 more Inland ; but though such a considera- 
 tion might, as Mr. Hulet laughingly re- 
 marked, ** have affected a newly-married 
 couple of the usual age," Cliff Cottage was 
 likely to last his time and that of Mrs. 
 Sophia also ; while as for the garden get- 
 ting smaller every lustrum, It was probable 
 that their power of taking walks in it 
 would decrease at the same rate, or even 
 quicker. He did not think it necessary to 
 consult the interests of the two young 
 ladies In the matter, since Judith was al- 
 ready engaged, and his opinion of his own 
 sex, if not very high, was sufficiently so to 
 give him confidence that Evy would (for 
 his own happiness) only too soon find a
 
 CLIFF COTTAGE. 277 
 
 lover, even if Lord Dirleton's ''Jack" 
 should play her false. 
 
 It was only natural for one of his age 
 and opinions to attach no great importance 
 to Jack's fidelity. He loved his niece as 
 the apple of his eye, but he could not sym- 
 pathize with her in her love for another, 
 and especially such a one as Captain Hey- 
 ton, an empty-headed young aristocrat (for 
 so Mr. Hulet had summed him up in his 
 own mind) with a taste for horseflesh that 
 might too probably end in ruin. 
 
 Unsolicited by Evy, for he was a man 
 who did not need to be reminded of a pro- 
 mise, one of Mr. Hulet's first acts on 
 taking possession of his new home was to 
 make provision for Judith. His wife, in- 
 deed, had herself proposed to do so, but he 
 would not hear of that. "It is I who 
 have rendered the girl unnecessary to you," 
 he argued, " and therefore it is my place to 
 provide for her for the present ; while as
 
 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 to the future, supposing that I survive you^ 
 I shall give effect of course to every wish 
 that you may express respecting her." 
 
 But though a considerable sum had thus 
 been placed at Judith's immediate disposal, 
 she evinced no wish to throw herself at 
 once into the arms of her Augustus, but 
 contented herself with writing him epistles 
 doubtless of a most affectionate kind, which 
 she always took to the post-office herself, 
 as being too precious to be intrusted to a" 
 letter-bag. To Evy, she explained this 
 conduct as being dictated by Augustus him- 
 self, ''who is proud, dear fellow, as he is 
 poor, and insists upon gaining a position for 
 himself, as he feels he is on the road to do, 
 before taking the hand which, thanks to 
 you, has been so amply dowered." Evy 
 thought this strange, conceiving that were 
 she in Judith's place she would have found 
 arguments to overcome such scruples, as 
 perhaps being unable to imagine that what
 
 CLIFF QOTTAGE. 279 
 
 was her own should not ipso facto be Jack's, 
 but she could not but applaud the delicacy of 
 sentiment which such self-denial evidenced 
 in the young painter, while her uncle (to 
 whom, under the circumstances, she thought 
 it right to disclose the matter) only 
 shrugged his shoulders^ and pronounced 
 ** Augustus " to be a much wiser fellow 
 than he had taken him for. 
 
 Mr. Hulet, as we have seen, did not like 
 Judith. Invalid old gentlemen — when their 
 complaint is deafness — have sometimes, at 
 unlucky moments, flashes of hearing, and 
 when they are almost stone blind, see things 
 at times that might escape even the keen- 
 sighted ; and Mr. Hulet being neither deaf 
 nor blind, had all the morbidly acute per- 
 ceptions of an invalid. A glance of scorn, a 
 movement of impatience at some unguarded 
 moment upon Judith's part, had probably 
 prejudiced him against her. But at all 
 events he was so prejudiced, and though he
 
 28o AT HER MERCY. 
 
 was far too much of a gentleman to make 
 display of the fact to one under his own 
 roof and protection, he could have heard 
 the news of Judith's departure from Cliff 
 Cottage with considerable resignation. 
 The attitude of benefactor towards her in 
 which she Insisted upon placing him em- 
 barrassed him exceedingly ; while the 
 humility in which she always clothed her- 
 self in her relations with his wife annoyed 
 him even more, since It had a bad effect 
 upon that lady in fostering those airs and 
 graces, which In years ago so irritated him, 
 and which It seemed she had discarded 
 only during the short period of his second 
 wooing ; but still he bore with Judith as 
 being, after all, but an insignificant item of 
 the sum of ills which his own folly had 
 brought upon himself. For to confess the 
 truth, his reunion with the wife of his youth 
 he had found to be a mistake — not to say 
 an unmitigated failure. An occasional
 
 CLIFF COTTAGE. 281 
 
 argument, with a political opponent, is well 
 enough, and promotes a healthy tone of 
 mind ; but a member of the Commune 
 would not be welcome to an admirer of the 
 British House of Lords as a tenant of the 
 same dwelling-house, and vice versa. Nay, 
 it is even said that the smaller the points 
 of difference the more fiercely are they apt 
 to be discussed between persons so thrown 
 together. And similarly, though nothing 
 is more agreeable to a valetudinarian than 
 to compare his ailments for a few hours 
 with those of another cripple, two persons 
 living under the same roof, both afflicted 
 with " nerves," are apt to quarrel. There 
 is egotism in all illness ; and an egotist re- 
 quires a clear space about him, and espe- 
 cially one not occupied by another ego. 
 The claims of such persons upon the atten- 
 tion of their fellow-creatures are apt to 
 clash, and their wants to interfere with one 
 another. The effect of their second ex-
 
 282 AT HER MERCY. 
 
 perlence of married life soon showed itself 
 in the couple in question ; Mrs. Hulet, in 
 addition to her many physical maladies, fell 
 into a chronic state of "protest." She as- 
 sumed a silent, but very demonstrative 
 attitude of suffering under oppression, and 
 left it in no sort of doubt either to himself 
 or to others as to who was the oppressor. 
 Once, and only once, she had expressed 
 this sentiment in words ; it was on an 
 occasion when he had forbade her going on 
 the cliff walk without a companion — a 
 really dangerous place at any time for one 
 so shaky and short-sighted as herself, and 
 especially so since it was her caprice to 
 frequent it after dusk. 
 
 '' Angelo," said she, in the presence, too, 
 of both the girls, a circumstance which did 
 not make the statement less unpleasant, 
 *' you always were a tyrant, and you always 
 will be !" 
 
 ** No, my dear, I am no tyrant," was her
 
 CLIFF COTTAGE. 285. 
 
 husband's quiet rejoinder; *' but I frankly 
 allow that of late months — I don't know 
 how many, it seems years — I have showed 
 myself very weak, and on one particular oc- 
 casion, to be a most enormous fool." No 
 epithet, indeed, was too gigantic for him to 
 apply to that act of weakness which had 
 caused him (to use his own words) once 
 more to take to himself, for better or worse, 
 a woman concerning whom he ought to have 
 known there could have been no such alter- 
 native. A bachelor might marry without 
 much prejudice to his judgment ; a widower 
 might do so, through a misunderstanding 
 of the doctrine of chances, or a too san- 
 guine confidence that he would have better 
 luck next time ; but that a man should 
 take the same wife the second time — under 
 the impression that she might have im- 
 proved, like wine, with ^^^ears — words, he 
 said, failed him to express the profundity of 
 contempt that he felt for such an idiot It
 
 ^84 AT HER MERCY, 
 
 was not magnanimous in Mr. Huletthus to 
 •speak, even if he could not help enter- 
 taining the sentiments described, and it 
 did no good. Those who heard him re- 
 tailed his words to others, and in due time 
 they got round to his wife's ears, not, as 
 may be imagined, to the improvement of 
 their mutual position. She grew more 
 " aggravating " every day, and her husband 
 more sour and irritated. The weak points 
 in his character — which was a generous 
 one in the main — were brought out under 
 this course of treatment with painful dis- 
 tinctness. Irresolute, or resolute only by 
 fits, in matters of moment, he was obstinate 
 to excess in trifles. For example, being 
 very careless in his habits, he had on one 
 occasion left a glass of colourless but most 
 powerful medicine in the dining-room, 
 which, had he not chanced to return at the 
 precise moment, would have been swal- 
 lowed by Evy in mistake for a glass of
 
 CLIFF CO TTA GE. 285 
 
 water. Of this circumstance Mrs. Hulet 
 made the most, not hesitating to make use 
 of her husband's affection for Evy, who 
 herself would gladly have passed over the 
 affair in silence, as a weapon against him. 
 " If even love for his niece could not re- 
 strain him from such acts of selfish care- 
 lessness, what motive could be expected to- 
 have weight with him ?" &c. In conse- 
 quence of which rebuke it became Mr. 
 Hulet's practice to leave his medicines- 
 about so recklessly, and In every room In 
 the house, that a chance visitor to Cliff' 
 Cottage might well have been excused for 
 taking it for a dispensary. 
 
 The cottage had many visitors, and 
 habitual ones, including not only the 
 neighbours, who were very friendly, but 
 many of their old acquaintances at Lu- 
 cullus Mansion, almost all of whom were 
 fixtures there. Among these Mr. Paragon 
 was one of the most constant " droppers
 
 286 A T HER MERC V. 
 
 in ;" he was seldom or never a guest, be- 
 cause Mr. Hulet disliked him, but for that 
 very reason the mistress of the house en- 
 couraged his visits. 
 
 We have said that Judith's conduct to- 
 wards her Augustus had seemed strange 
 to Evy, but her behaviour to the Australian 
 millionaire was a matter of much greater 
 amazement. If, in fact, she had not known 
 for certain that Judith's hand was engaged 
 elsewhere, she would have thought it, if not 
 the property of Mr. Paragon, at least to be 
 had for the asking. It was no business of 
 Evy's, of course, but this behaviour shocked 
 her to that extent that she was driven to 
 remonstrate with her young friend : a some- 
 what dangerous experiment, which, how- 
 ever, the other took in excellent part. 
 
 ''There will be no hearts broken, my 
 •dear Evy, I promise you, however serious 
 matters may appear. Mr. Paragon and I 
 quite understand one another. And as for
 
 CLIFF COTTAGE. 287 
 
 Augustus, he has all the confidence in me 
 which I have in myself. And that," added 
 she, with a little laugh that grated on her 
 friend's ear, '' is very considerable." 
 
 Evy, though by no means satisfied with 
 this reply, said no more on the subject, 
 and the time was now drawing on towards 
 an event which naturally monopolized her 
 thoughts, to the exclusion of every other 
 topic, namely, the April steeple-chases at 
 Balcombe, for which, in the list of other 
 gallant animals, she read in the local 
 journal, with heartfelt joy, that Captain 
 Heyton's Walltopper was entered. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 rRINTER, GUILDFOKD, SURREY.