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 L I E. R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVEI^SITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 

 
 A
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/detai.ls/oswaldcray01wood
 
 OSWALD CEAY
 
 OSWALD CEAY 
 
 BY 
 
 MES. HENRY WOOD, 
 
 Author of * East Lynne,' ' The Shadow of Ashlydvat,' etc. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 EDINBUEGH 
 ADAM AND CHAELES BLACK 
 
 1864 
 
 [The right of Translation and Reproduction is reserved.]
 
 PRINTED I'.V R. AND R. CLARK, EDIXBCRGH.
 
 a< -J 
 V.I 
 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 DE. DAVENAL. 
 
 vIt was market-day at Hallingliam. A moderate- 
 2 sized and once beautiful town, cut up now by the 
 ugly railroad which had chosen to take its way right 
 through it, and to build a large station on the very 
 spot where the Abbey Gardens used to flourish. 
 Famous gardens once ; and not so long ago the 
 evening recreation of the townspeople, who would 
 promenade there at sunset, whatever the time of 
 year. Since the gardens had been seized upon for 
 the railway purposes, a bitter feud of opinion had 
 reigned in the place : the staid old inhabitants 
 mourning and resenting their town's desecration ; 
 the younger welcoming the new rail, its station, and 
 its bustle, with all their might and main, as a grate- 
 ful inbreak on their monotonous life. The trains 
 from London (distant some sixty or seventy miles) 
 I B
 
 2 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 would go shrieking and whistling through the town 
 at any hour of the day or night : and, so far, peace 
 for Hallinghani Avas over. 
 
 Possibly it was because the town was famous for 
 little else, that these Abbey Gardens were so re- 
 gretted. Hallingham Abbey had been renowned in 
 the ages gone by ; very little of its greatness was 
 left to it now. The crumbling hand of Time had 
 partially destroyed the fine old building, an insig- 
 nificant portion of it alone remaining : just suffi- 
 cient to impart a notion of its style of architecture 
 and the century of its erection : and this small por- 
 tion had been patched and propped, and altogether 
 altered and modernised, by way of keeping it to- 
 gether. It was little mor^ than an ordinary dwell- 
 ing-house now ; and at the present moment was 
 imoccupied, ready to be let to any suitable tenant 
 who would take it. But, poor as it was in com- 
 parison with some of the modern dwellings in its 
 vicinity, it was still in a degree bowed down to by 
 Hallingham. There was something high-sounding 
 in the address, " The Abbey, Hallingham,^- and none 
 but a gentleman born and bred must venture to treat 
 for it. 
 
 It stood alone : the extensive gardens in front of it ; 
 the space once occupied by the chapel behind it. All
 
 OSW.ILD CPvAY. 6 
 
 traces of tlie cliapel building were gone now, but its 
 inossy gravestones were imbedded in the gTound still, 
 and the spot remained as sacred as a graveyard. The 
 Latin inscriptions on some of these stones could be 
 yet made out: and that on one attracted as much 
 imaginative speculation as the famed gravestone in 
 the cloisters of Worcester Cathedral. A fcAV Latin 
 words only were on it, signifying "buried in misery:" 
 no name, no date. Thoughtful natures would glance 
 at that stone as they passed it, with an inward breath 
 of hope — perhaps of prayer — that the misery experi- 
 enced by its unhappy tenant in this world, had been 
 exchanged for a life of immortahty. This graveyard 
 was not a thoroughfare, and few cared to walk there 
 w^ho were absorbed in the bustle and pleasures of life ; 
 but the aged, the invalid, the mourner might be seen 
 there on fine days, seated on its one solitary bench, 
 and buried in solemn reflections. A short space of 
 time, more or less, as it might happen, and they would 
 be lying under gravestones in their turn : a short space 
 of time, my friends, and you and I shall be equally 
 lying there. 
 
 The broad space of the public road running along 
 the Abbey's front divided it from the gardens, the 
 gardens being the public property of the town. On 
 the opposite side of these gardens, furthest from the
 
 4 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Abbey, were the buildings of tlie new station and the 
 lines upon lines of rails. 
 
 It is well to say lines upon lines of rails ! Hal- 
 lingham said it — said it with a groan. Not content 
 with a simple line, or a double line of rails, sufficient 
 for ordinary traffic, the railway authorities had made 
 it into a ''jimction," "Hallingham Junction!" — and 
 more lines branched off from it than you would care 
 to count. This was at the east end of the town ; be- 
 yond it was the open country. Some of the lines 
 made a sort of semicircle, cut off a corner of the town, 
 and branched off into space. It's true it was a very 
 shabby little corner of the town that had thus been 
 cut off, but Hallingham did not the less resent, the 
 invasion. 
 
 Walking down to Hallingham along the broad 
 road leading from the Abbey, its busiest part was 
 soon gained. Let us look at it to-day : Tuesday. It 
 is market-day at Hallingham, and the hot July sun 
 streams full on the people's heads, for there's no room 
 for the raised umbrellas, and they afford little con- 
 tinuous shade. It is the large, wide, open space in 
 front of the town-hall, where we have halted, and 
 here from time immemorial the market people have 
 sat to chaffer and change, barter and sell. Country 
 women expose their poultry and eggs, their butter
 
 OSWALD CEAY. O 
 
 and cream cLeese, and tlieir other wares, all on this 
 si3ot. 'No matter what the weather, in the dog-days 
 of summer, in the sharp snow, the pitiless storm of 
 winter, here they are every Tuesday under their sea 
 of umbrellas, which must be put down to allow space 
 to the jostling crowd when the market gets fidl. The 
 town had been talking the last ten years of erecting a 
 covered market-house ; but it was not begun yet. 
 
 Still on, down the principal street, leaving this 
 market-place to the left, and what was called the 
 "West-end of the town was gained. Proud Halling- 
 ham had named it AYest-end in imitation of London. 
 It was nothing but a street ; its name, New Street, 
 proclaiming that it was of more recent date than some 
 of the other parts. It was really a fine street, wide 
 and open, with broad white pavements, and its houses 
 were mostly private ones, their uniformity of line being 
 broken by a detached house here and there. It was 
 a long street, and five or six other by-streets and turn- 
 ings branched off from it at right angles. 
 
 Lying back from the street at the corner of one of 
 these turnings was a handsome white house, detached, 
 with a fine pillared-portico entrance in its centre, and 
 a plate on the door. It was fully as conspicuous to 
 the street as were the other houses which abutted on 
 the pavement. A level lawn was before it, divided from
 
 6 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 tlie street by low light iron railings, its small light 
 gate in the midst, opposite the entrance door. Narrow 
 flower-beds, filled with gay and charming flowers, 
 skirted the la^ATi before the rails ; on the sides, but 
 not in front, flourished evergTeens close to the railings 
 behind the fiow^er-beds, makino" a sort of screen. An 
 enclosed garden lay at the back of tlie house, and be- 
 yond the garden were the stables. On the brass plate 
 — you could read it from the street — was inscribed, 
 "Dr. Davenal." 
 
 He was the chief surgeon of Hallingham. "Why 
 he had taken his degree — a recent accession of dignity 
 — people were puzzled to tell. Had he cared for 
 high-sounding, titles they could have understood it ; 
 but he did not care for them : had he been a slave to 
 example, that might have accounted for it, for this 
 degree-taking, as you must be aware, has come into 
 fashion of late years : had he wished to court noto- 
 riety, he might have thought that a means to bring it 
 to him. But Hallingham knew Dr. Davenal better. 
 He was a simple-minded man ; he liked to be out of 
 the fashion instead of in it ; and whether he wrote 
 doctor or surgeon after his name, he could not be 
 more deservedly renowned in his locality than he 
 already v»^as. He was a skilful surgeon, a careful 
 and successful operator, and his advice in purely
 
 OSWALD CRAY. ^ 7 
 
 medical cases was sought in preference to that- of any 
 physician in Hallingliam. A rumour arose, untrace- 
 able to any certain source, that his son Edward, a 
 dashing young captain of infantry, had urged the 
 step upon him, with a \dew to enhance his own 
 standing with his brother of&cers. The son of 'Mr. 
 Davenal, a country surgeon, might be thought slight- 
 ingly of : the son of Dr. Davenal need not be. Be 
 that as it might, the rumour gained some credence, 
 but it died away again. One patient only ventured 
 to question Dr. Davenal as to its truth, and the 
 doctor laughed heartily in his patient's face, and said 
 he expected handsome ISTed could hold his own ^'itli- 
 out reference to whether his father might be a royal 
 j)hysician or a parish apothecary. 
 
 Before we go on, I may tell you that you will like 
 Dr. DavenaL He was a good man. He had his 
 faults, as we all have ; but he was a good man. 
 
 On this same hot July afternoon, there came 
 careering down the street, in its usual quick fashion, 
 a handsome open carriage drawn by a pair of beauti- 
 ful bays. Dr. Davenal did not see why, because he 
 was a doctor, his carriage should be a sober one, his 
 horses tame and rusty. Truth to say, he was given 
 to spend rather than to save. I have told you he 
 had faults, and perhaps you will call that one. He
 
 8 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 sat in liis accustomed seat, low in the carriage, his 
 servant Eoger mounted far above him. He rarely 
 drove, himself; never when papng professional visits : 
 a surgeon needs to keej) his hands steady. Eoger was 
 a favourite servant ; fourteen years he had been in 
 his present service, and was getting fat upon it. Dr. 
 Davenal sometimes told him jokingly that he should 
 have to pension him off, for his weight was getting 
 too much for the bays. The same conld not be said 
 of Dr. Davenal ; he was a spare man of middle 
 height, with a broad white forehead, dark eyes, and a 
 careworn expression. 
 
 The carriage was bowling quickly past the market- 
 place — Dr. Davenal' s time was too precious to allow 
 of his being driven slowly — when a woman suddenly 
 descried it. Quitting her sitting-place in the market, 
 she set off to run towards it, flinging up her hands in 
 aofitation, and overturninsf her small board of wares 
 with the haste she made. Poor wares ! — gooseberries 
 and white and red currants displayed on cabbage 
 leaves to attract the eager eyes and watering lips of 
 juvenile passers-by ; and common garden flowers tied 
 up in nosegays — a halfpenny a nosegay, a halfpenny 
 a leaf. Eos^er saw the movement. 
 
 " Here's Dame Hundley flying on to us, sir." 
 Dr. Davenal, who was very much in the habit of
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 9 
 
 falling into tliougiit, seeing and hearing notliing as 
 lie went along, raised his head, and turning it in 
 the direction of the market, met her anxious coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Pull up, Eoger," he said to his servant. 
 
 The countenance was a tearfid one by the time it 
 had reached the doctor's side ; and then the woman 
 seemed to become aware that she had done an un- 
 warrantable thing in thus summarily arresting Dr. 
 DaA^enal — not that there was anything in his face or 
 manner to remind her of it. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I beg ten thousand pardons for making 
 thus bold ! Seeing your carriage, I started off in 
 the moment's impulse. I've been a-fearing all the 
 morning as I sat there, that maybe you might be 
 out when I called, after market was over. He is 
 no better, sir ; he is worser and weaker." 
 
 ''Ah!" remarked the doctor. " Couldn't he come 
 in to-day?" 
 
 " I don't believe there'll ever be any more com- 
 ing in again for him," was the woman's answer, as 
 she strove to suppress her tears. " ' Mother,' says 
 he to me this morning, when I tried to get him up, 
 'it's o' no use trying. I — I — '" she fairly broke 
 down. 
 
 " Does the parish doctor see him regularly?"
 
 10 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " He comes, sir, about every third day. He 
 caught his eye on that bottle of physic that you 
 wrote for and told me to get made up, and he laid 
 hold of it and asked where I got that, and I told 
 him I had made bold to take my poor boy in to Dr. 
 Davenal. So then he was put up about it, and said 
 if we was gouig to be grand patients of Dr. Dave- 
 nal' s we didn't want him. And I thought perhaps 
 he mightn't come again. But he did : he came in 
 last night at dusk." 
 
 " Has your son taken the physic ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I gave him the last dose afore I come 
 away this morning. But he's worse ; he's a deal 
 worse, sir : maybe it's these hot days that's trying 
 him." 
 
 Dr. Davenal could have told her that he never 
 would be anything but w^orse in this world ; a little 
 better, a little worse, according to the phases of the 
 disease, and then would come the ending. 
 
 '' I shall, I expect, be driving out of Hallingham 
 your way this evening, Mrs. Hundley, and I'll call 
 and see him. Should anything prevent it this even- 
 ing, you may look for me to-morrow. I'll be sure to 
 come." 
 
 The same good, considerate man that he had ever 
 been, sparing no trouble, no kindness, when life or
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 11 
 
 liealtli was at stake. " I'll be sure to come !" and the 
 woman knew that he would be sure to come. How 
 few medical men in his position would have con- 
 descended to say to this poor woman, " I'll be sure to 
 come!" to say it in the kind tone, with the promise 
 in his eyes as they looked straight into hers, as well 
 as on his lips ! He had fellow practitioners in that 
 town, their time not half taken up as his was, who 
 would have loftily waved off poor Dame Hundley, a 
 profitless patient, in every sense, and sent her sorrow 
 to the winds. 
 
 Eoger drove quickly on down the street between 
 the rows of gay shops, and Dr. Davenal sat thinking 
 of that poor woman's sorrow. She was a widow, and 
 this was her only son. Did the anticipated loss of 
 that son strike on the chords of his own heart, and 
 send them vibrating ? He had lost a son, and under 
 unhappy auspices. Save that woman's son, he knew 
 he could not : his death fiat had gone fortli in the fell 
 disease which had attacked him : but he might pos- 
 sibly, by the exertion of his skill, prolong the life by a 
 trifle, and certainly lighten its sufferings. jMrs. Hund- 
 ley had toiled for this son, and brought him up well, 
 in her poor way, and had looked brightly forward to 
 iiis helping her on in her old age : as he would have 
 done, for he was steady, loving, and dutiful But it
 
 12 OS^VALU CEAV. 
 
 was not to be : God was taking liim : and the mother 
 in her alarm and grief scarcely saw why this should 
 be. N'ot at the time that affliction falls, in its first 
 brunt, can we see or believe in the love and wisdom 
 that are always hidden within it. 
 
 Eoger pulled up at the doctor's house, set his mas- 
 ter down, and turned liis horses round into the side 
 lane — for it could not be called a street — to drive them 
 to the stables. Dr. Davenal went throucrh the G^ate, 
 and wound round the grass-plat to the house. As he 
 was about to open the door with his latch-key, it was 
 drawn open for him by his attentive in-door man- 
 servant. 
 
 You never saw so respectable a serv^ant in aU your 
 life : a very model of a servant in looks, voice, and 
 manner. About forty years of age, his tall, slim, 
 active figure gave him the appearance of beiag a 
 younger man. His hair, brushed smooth and flat, was 
 of a shiny black, and his white necktie and orthodox 
 black clothes were without a spot. But — in spite of 
 his excessive respectability as a man and a servant — 
 there was something in the sharp features of his white 
 face, in the furtive black eyes, that would lose their 
 look of slyness when flung boldly into yours, which 
 had never been cordially liked by Dr. Davenal. 
 
 "You saw me, Xeal?"
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 13 
 
 *' I was in your room, sir, speaking to Mr. Cray/' 
 was the man's answer ; and in Lis low, respectful 
 tones, his superior accent, there was really a sound 
 of refinement pleasant to the ear. That refinement 
 of voice and manner that may be caught from asso- 
 ciating with the educated ; not the refinement spring- 
 ing from the mind where it is innate. 
 
 "Has anybody been here?" 
 
 "Lady Oswald, sir. She apologised for coming 
 when it was not your day for receiving town-patients, 
 but she said she particularly wished to see you. I 
 think she scarcely believed me, sir, when I said you 
 were out." 
 
 Dr. Davenal took his gold repeater from his 
 pocket, where it lay loose, unattached to any chain, 
 and glanced at it. A valuable watch ; the grateful 
 present of a rich man years ago, who believed that 
 he owed his life, humanly speaking, to Eichard Da- 
 venal's care and skill. 
 
 " Scarcely believed you ! Why, she knows I am 
 never home much before three o'clock. It wants 
 two minutes now. Mr. Cray, if he is here, might 
 have seen her." 
 
 "Mr. Cray has but just come, sir. I was showing 
 him in when your carriage drove to the door. Lady 
 Oswald said she would call again later, sir."
 
 14 OSWALD Cr.AY. 
 
 Two minutes more, when three o'clock should 
 strike, and Dr. Davenal's door would be beset by 
 patients. By country patients to-day ; on Tuesdays 
 he would be very busy with them, and the towns- 
 people did not intrude unnecessarily upon him on that 
 day ; all the rest of the week-days were for them. 
 They would come, these patients, and lay down their 
 fee of a guinea to the surgeon, as they laid it down 
 for a physician. Dr. Davenal would see them twice 
 for that ; sometimes more — several times more ; he 
 was not a covetous man, and he distmguished between 
 those who could well afford to pay him, and those 
 who could not. When these last would timidly put 
 down the sovereign and shilling, rarely in paper, he 
 would push it back to them. " No, you paid me last 
 time or so ; you don't owe me anything yet." 
 
 Of far and wide reputation, he had scarcely a 
 minute in the day that he could call his own, or that 
 was not in some way or other devoted to his profes- 
 sion. Chief visiting surgeon to the Hallingham In- 
 firmary, always taking the operations there in difficult 
 cases, part of every day had to be spent at it. Early 
 in the morning he saw patients at home, twice a week 
 gratuitously ; at a quarter to ten he went out, and 
 between that time and three o'clock paid his round of 
 calls and visited the Infirmary. At three he was at
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 15 
 
 home to receive patients again ; at six lie dined ; and 
 it very rarely happened that he had not second visits 
 to pay afterwards. Of course this usual routine of 
 duty w^as often varied : visits at a distance had to be 
 paid, necessitating post-horses to his close carriage, if 
 no rail conducted to the place ; patients hovering be- 
 tween life and death must be seen oftener than once 
 or twice in the day, perhaps in the night ; and some- 
 times a terrible case of accident would be brought 
 into the Infirmary, demanding the utmost skill that 
 the most perfect operator could give. In those cases 
 of accident it was Dr. Davenal who was sent for by 
 the house-surgeon ; none other of the visiting surgeons 
 were so sure as he : and Dr. Davenal, though he had 
 a whole dining-room full of patients waiting their 
 turn to go in to him, guinea in hand, abandoned 
 them all, and strode away to the Infirmary with his 
 fleetest step. 
 
 The dining-room was on the left of the entrance- 
 haU : it was of large proportions. Opposite to it, on 
 the right, was a much smaller apartment, called by 
 way of distinction " Dr. Davenal's room." It was in 
 this last the doctor saw his patients, who would go 
 into it from the dining-room, one by one, each in his 
 turn. The two rooms looked to the front, on either 
 side the door, and the window in each was ver}^ large.
 
 IG OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 They were not bay windows, but were divided into 
 three compartments, all of which might be opened 
 separately. Dwarf Venetian blinds were carried up 
 to the first pane in both windows, for the house was 
 not sufficiently removed from the street to prevent 
 curious passers-by from gazing in. Behind the 
 doctor's room was another room, opening from it, the 
 windows of which looked on the evergreens skirting 
 the very narrow path that ran between the side of 
 the house and the railings bordering the lane : a path 
 so narrow that nobody was supposed ever to go doT^Ti 
 it. This second room was Dr. Davenal's bedchamber, 
 used by him as such ever since the death of his wife. 
 At the back of this chamber was another apartment, 
 partially partitioned into two, one portion being used 
 as a butler's pantry, the other as Neal's sleeping- 
 closet, which looked to the garden at the rear of the 
 house. 
 
 Neal had an uncommon partiality for that pantry, 
 and would be in it all hours of the day or night, 
 though it was never meant that he should sit in it. 
 It was to all intents and purposes a pantry only, and 
 a very scantily lighted one. It had a high window 
 of four square panes, looking dead on the evergreens, 
 very dense just there, and on nothing else. There 
 was a door by its side, opening on the evergreens
 
 OSWALD CEAY. - 17 
 
 also ; and one with a slim figure — as slim as Neal's, 
 for instance — could go out at that door if so disposed, 
 and entwine himself along the nan^ow path, braving 
 the shrubs, past the windows of Dr. Davenars bed- 
 chamber, and emerge in front of the house. It was 
 not at all, however, in ISTeal's stipulated duties to do 
 so. Quite the contrary. AMien ISTeal entered Dr. 
 Davenal's service, he was expressly ordered to keep 
 that pantry door always fastened. It was impressed 
 upon him by Miss Davenal that there was no neces- 
 sity ever to unlock it : his plate was there, she ob- 
 served, and light-fingered beggars frequented Halling- 
 ham, as they frequent most other places. 
 
 On the opposite side, behind the dining-room, 
 was the prettiest apartment in the house. It was 
 called the garden-parlour, and opened to the garden 
 at the back by means of glass doors. The state 
 drawing-room was above, over the hall and dininfT- 
 ]'Oom, and the kitchens were down-stairs. 
 
 Dr. Davenal's room was scantily furnished. A 
 shabby Kidderminster carpet, a square table, some 
 horsehair chairs, and a writing desk. Nothing else, 
 except some books ranged round the walls, and a 
 plaster bust or two. On the table, which was covered 
 with a green-baize cloth bordered with yellow, lay 
 some writing and blotting paper by the side of a large 
 I B 2
 
 18 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 inkstand, and tlie desk was imderneatli tlie table on 
 the carpet. It v/as the doctor's liabit to keep the 
 desk there; he couki not have tokl why. If he re- 
 quired to open it, which was very sekloni — for he never 
 nsed it for writing on — he would lift it to the table 
 and put it back when he had done with it. Some of 
 his patients sitting at the table waiting for the doctor 
 to come in, or enlarging on their complaints as he sat 
 before them, had surreptitiously used it as a footstool, 
 and the result was a considerably scratched surface of 
 the polished mahogany; but Dr. Davenal did not 
 move it from its abiding-place. 
 
 Tilting himself on a chair, in a fashion that 
 threatened an overthrow backwards, with his feet 
 on the edge of this very desk, sat a young man, care- 
 lessly humming a popular song. You heard Neal tell 
 his master he w^as there — ^Ir. Cray. His face was a 
 sufficiently pleasing one, its complexion fair, its eyes 
 a light blue. It was not a remarkable face in any 
 way ; 'might have been a somewhat insipid one, but 
 for these same blue eyes that lighted it up, and a gay 
 smile that was ever ready on it. All that Mr. Cray 
 appeared likely to be remarkable for as yet, was a 
 habit of pushing his hair back — rather light hair, of 
 a shade between brown and flaxen, and he pushed it 
 off his forehead inveterately, at all times and seasons.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 19 
 
 But what with the blue eyes, the winning smile, and 
 a very taking voice and manner, he was beginning to 
 win his way in Hallingham. Dr. Davenal was glad 
 that it should be so. He had taken this young man, 
 Marcus Cray, by the hand, had made him his partner, 
 and he desired nothing better than that he should win 
 his way. 
 
 But to win a way in a town is one thing ; to win 
 hearts in it is another ; and Dr. Davenal was cer- 
 tainly not prepared to hear, as he was about to do, 
 that Mr. Cray had gained one particular heart, and 
 had come then to ask his, Dr. Davenal's, approba- 
 tion to his havino; done it. 
 
 Neal threw open the door of this room for his 
 master, bowed him in with the air of a groom of 
 the chambers, and Mr. Cray started from his tilting 
 position to find his feet. As they stood together 
 his height was somewhat under the doctor's, and his 
 only reached the middle height. 
 
 "Is it you, Mark?" said the doctor, quietly, 
 rather surprised that he should be there at that 
 hour of the day ; for Mr. Cray's routine of duties 
 did not lie at the house of Dr. Davenal. "Any 
 bad report for me ?" 
 
 Mr. Cray had no bad report. He entered upon a 
 different sort of report, speaking rapidly, but not in
 
 20 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 tlie least agitatedly. He wanted the doctor's con- 
 sent to his marriage with Miss Caroline Davenal. 
 Perhaps it was the Iviiowledge that they must so 
 soon be interrupted by three o'clock and the doc- 
 tor's country patients, that prompted Mr. Cray to 
 enter upon the subject at that not over-seasonable 
 hour. There would be less time for the doctor's 
 objections, he may have deemed — not that Mr. Cray 
 was one to anticipate objections to any project he 
 set his fancy on, or to pay much attention to them 
 if they came. 
 
 Dr. Davenal stood ao^ainst the wall near the 
 window, looking very grave in his surprise and, it 
 may be said, vexation. He had never dreamt of 
 this. Mr. Ci^ay had certainly been intimate with 
 his family ; many an evening when the doctor had 
 been out professionally, Mr. Cray had spent with 
 them ; but he had never given a thought to any- 
 thing of this sort arising from it. His connection 
 with jNIr. Cray was a professional connection, and 
 perhaps that fact had blinded his eyes and kept 
 his thoughts from glancing to the possibility that 
 anything different might supervene. 
 
 "You look grave. Dr. Davenal," said Mr. Cray, 
 breaking the silence, and retaining, in a remarkable 
 degree, his self-j)OSsession.
 
 OSWALD CILVY. 21 
 
 '' Yes," replied the doctor, " for Caroline's sake. 
 Mark, I believe I had cherished more ambitious 
 dreams for her." 
 
 "Ambitious dreams!" repeated Mr. Cray. "She 
 will at least occupy a position as good as yours, 
 sir." 
 
 "As good as mine!" echoed the doctor. "But 
 when, Mark? — when?" he added, after a pause. 
 
 " In time." 
 
 " Ay — in time. There it is. How long must you 
 wait for it ?" 
 
 " We shall rub on until then, doctor. As others do." 
 
 " Mark, I do not think Caroline is one to rub on, 
 as you call it, so smoothly as some might, unless 
 fortune is smooth about her. Eemember what your 
 income is." 
 
 It is two hundred a year," said Mark, pushing his 
 hair from his brow, and speaking with as much 
 equanimity as though he had said two thousand. 
 " But I thought perhaps you might be induced to 
 increase it — for her sake." 
 
 Dr. Davenal pulled open the green Venetian blind 
 and threw the window higher up, as if the air of the 
 room were growing too hot for him. It was the 
 window — or rather the compartment of it — nearest 
 to the lane, and the doctor was fond of keeping it a
 
 22 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 little raised. Summer and winter would the passers- 
 by see that window^ raised behind the green staves of 
 the blind. 
 
 " Were I to double your income, Mark, and make 
 it four hundred a year — a thing which you have no 
 right to expect me to do at present, or to ask me 
 to do — it would still be an inadequate income for 
 Caroline Davenal," resumed the doctor, closing the 
 blind again, and setting his back against it. " I don't 
 believe — it is my opinion, Mark, and I only give it 
 you as such — that she is one to make the best of a 
 small income, or to be happy on it." 
 
 Mr. Cray had caught up one of the doctor's pens, 
 and stood opposite to him picking the feather-end of 
 it off bit by bit. His attitude was a careless one, and 
 his eyes were bent upon the pen, as if to pick those 
 pieces off and litter the carpet were of more conse- 
 quence than looking at Dr. DavenaL Mr. Cray was 
 inclined to be easy over most things, to take life coolly, 
 and he was characteristically easy over this. 
 
 " Four hundred a year is not so small an income," 
 he observed. 
 
 ''That depends," said Dr. Davenal. *' Incomes 
 are large or small in comparison ; in accordance with 
 the requirements, the habits, the notions, if you will, 
 of those who have to live upon them. Caroline has
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 23 
 
 enjoyed the adA^antages derivable from one amounting 
 to three times four." 
 
 " She may come into that fortune yet," said ^Ir. 
 Cray. 
 
 The first gleam of real displeasure shone now in 
 the eyes of the doctor as he threw them searchingly 
 on his partner. " Have you been counting upon that? 
 — Is it the inducement whicli has called forth this 
 proposal?" 
 
 " No," hurst forth Mr. Cray, feeling vexed in his 
 turn and speaking impulsively, as he flung the dilapi- 
 dated pen back in the inkstand and drew nearer the 
 doctor. ^' I declare that I never thought of the money 
 or the suit ; it did not so much as cross my mind ; and 
 were Carine never to have a penny piece to the end 
 of her Kfe, it would make no difference. It is her I 
 want ; not money." 
 
 Dr. Davenal drew in his lips. '' Carine !" They 
 must have become tolerably intimate for him fami- 
 liarly to call her that. ''Pretty Carine" was her fond 
 name in the household. 
 
 " It was Caroline herself who spoke of the money," 
 resumed Mark Cray. " We were consulting together 
 as to how far my two hundred a year would keep us, 
 and she remembered the Chancery suit. ' Mark,' she 
 said, 'that fortune may come to me, and then we
 
 24 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 should have no care/ It was not I who thought of 
 it, Dr. Davenal. And I am sure I don't count upon 
 it : Caroline herself would be wise not to do so. 
 Chancery suits generally absorb the oyster and leave 
 the shell for the claimants." 
 
 " You have spoken to Caroline, then ?^" questioned 
 Dr. Davenal. 
 
 Alark pushed off his hair again. " Oh dear yes." 
 
 " May I ask when ? " 
 
 " Well — I don't know," answered Mr. Cray, after 
 considering the point. " I have been — I have been" — 
 
 " What ? " cried Dr. Davenal, surprised at the un- 
 usual hesitation. " Speak out, Mark." 
 
 " I was going to say I have been making love to 
 her ever so long," continued Mark, with a laugh. 
 " In fact, sir, we have understood each other for some 
 time past ; but as to the precise period that I actually 
 spoke out to her by words, I am not sure when it 
 was." 
 
 The contrast between the two men was observable 
 in the silence that ensued. Dr. Davenal grave, ab- 
 sorbed, full of thought and care ; Mr. Cray self-satis- 
 fied, looking as if neither thought nor care had ever 
 come to him, or could come. He lightly watched the 
 passers-by in the street, over the Venetian bhnd of 
 the middle mndow, nodding and smiling to any
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 25 
 
 acquaintances that happened to appear. Mr. Cray had 
 made np his mind to marry Miss Caroline Davenal, 
 and it was entirely out of his creed to suppose that 
 any insurmountable objection could superv^ene. 
 
 " Mark," said Dr. Davenal, interrupting the gentle- 
 man as he was flourishing his hand to somebody, 
 "you must be aware that circumstances render it 
 imperative upon me to be more than commonly 
 watchful over the interests of Caroline." 
 
 " Do you think so ? But, Dr. Davenal, I would be 
 sure to make her happy. I would spend my life in 
 it : none would make her as happy as I." 
 
 "How do you know that?" asked Dr. Davenal 
 
 A smile hovered on the young surgeon's lips. 
 " Because she cares for me, sir ; and for none other 
 in the wide world." 
 
 "I had thought — I had thought that another 
 cared for her," returned Dr. Davenal, speaking im- 
 pulsively. "At least, a doubt of it has sometimes 
 crossed me." 
 
 Mark Cray opened his eyes Avidely in his astonish- 
 ment. " Wlio ?" he asked. 
 
 " But Dr. Davenal did not satisfy him : not that 
 he had any particular motive for observing reticence 
 on the point. " It is of no consequence. I must 
 have been mistaken," was all he said. 
 I c
 
 26 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 "You will not forbid her to me, sir?" pleaded Mr. 
 Cray. 
 
 A spasm of pain passed across the face of Dr. 
 Davenal ; the words had called up bitter recollec- 
 tions. 
 
 " So long as I live I shall never forbid a marriage 
 to any over whom I hold control/' he said, in a tone 
 of subdued anguish — and ]\Iark Cray knew where 
 the sting had pohited, and wished in his goodnature 
 he had not put the question. " I will urge all reflec- 
 tion, caution, prudence in my power to urge ; but I 
 will not forbid. Least of all have I a right to do so 
 by Caroline." 
 
 The younger man's face lighted up. " Then you 
 will give her to me, Dr. Davenal ?'* 
 
 " I give you no promise," was the doctor's answer. 
 " I must have leisure to reflect on this ; it has taken 
 me entirely by surprise. And I must speak to 
 Caroline. There's plenty of time. To many yet 
 would indeed be premature." 
 
 " Premature ?" echoed Mr. Cray. 
 
 '^Premature iu the extreme. A man who does 
 not know how to wait for good things, Mark, does 
 not deserve them." 
 
 A lady, with a slow walk and pale face, turned 
 in at the front gate. It was patient the first. Dr.
 
 OS\YALD CRAY. 27 
 
 Davenal made no observation ; lie scarcely saw her, 
 so deeply had lie plunged into thought. Mr. Cray, 
 who stood closer to the window than a doctor 
 expecting patients generally does stand, smiled and 
 bowed. 
 
 " It is Mrs. Scott," he observed, as the knocker 
 sounded. " She looks very ill to-day." 
 
 Attentive ISTeal was heard to come forth instantly 
 from his pantry, open the door, and show the lady 
 into the dining-room. Then he made his appearance 
 in his master's room. 
 
 "Mrs. Scott, sir!" 
 
 Instead of the " Show her in," as Neal expected, 
 Dr. Davenal merely nodded. Mr. Cray made a 
 movement to depart, glancing as he did so, at the 
 very grave face of his senior partner. 
 
 " I have vexed you, sir?" 
 
 " I feel vexed in this first moment, Mark ; I 
 can't deny it," was the candid answer. "It is not 
 altogether that Caroline might have been expected 
 to do better ; it is not exclusively that I think her 
 peculiarly unfitted for a making-shift life, or that 
 with regard to her I feel my responsibility is weighty : 
 but it is a mixture of all three." 
 
 "You consider, perhaps, I have done wrong to 
 ask for her?"
 
 28 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " I consider you have done wrong to ask for her 
 so prematurely. In your place, I think I should 
 have waited a little while, until circumstances had 
 been more propitious." 
 
 "And perhaps have lost Caroline !" 
 
 *' Nay," said the doctor, " a girl that cannot wait, 
 and be true while she waits, is not worth a brass 
 button." 
 
 He quitted the room as he spoke. At the risk of 
 keeping his patients waiting, he must find and ques- 
 tion Caroline. His mind was not at ease. 
 
 Mr. Cray went out at the hall-door. Before 
 Neal, who was on the alert, had shut it, a carriage 
 drove up to the gate, and stopped with a clatter. A 
 well-appointed close carriage, its servants in claret- 
 coloured livery, and its claret-coloured panels bearing 
 the insignia of England's baronetage — the bloody 
 hand. 
 
 The- footman leaped down for his orders. Mr. 
 Cray, stepping across the lawn, in too much haste to 
 wind round it by means of the gravel-path, held out 
 his hand with a smile to its only inmate, a little, grey, 
 nervous-looking woman, in an old-fashioned purple 
 silk dress. 
 
 "How are you to-day. Lady Oswald ?" 
 
 And Neal, with his quiet, cat-like steps, had fol-
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 29 
 
 lowed in tlie wake of Mr. Cray, unseen by that gentle- 
 man, and stood behind him in his respectful attention : 
 there might be some message to carry in to his master 
 — leaving three patients, who had entered the gate to- 
 gether, to show themselves in alone.
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 LA.DY Oswald's letter. 
 
 The room at tlie back, looking into the garden, on the 
 opposite side of the passage to Neal's pantry, was the 
 most charming apartment in all the house. ISTot for 
 its grandeur ; it was small and very simple indeed, 
 compared to the grand drawing-room up stairs : not 
 for its orderly neatness, for it was usually in a litter : 
 a fascinating, pleasant-looking litter ; and perhaps 
 that made its charm. It was called the garden-par- 
 lour. The great drawing-room was kept sacred by 
 its presiding mistress, to whom you will soon have 
 the honour of an introduction : sacred, and uncomfort- 
 ably tidy. Xot so much as a pocket-handkerchief 
 must be laid for an instant on one of its handsome 
 tables, its luxurious satin sofas and ottomans ; not a 
 footstool must be drawn from its appointed place, let 
 tired legs be hanging dowm with weariness ; not a 
 hand-screen must be removed from the handsomely 
 furnished mantelpiece, were lovely cheeks being
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 31 
 
 roasted to crimson. IMetliocIically proper, eveiytliing 
 in its appointed spot, must tliat room be kept : a "book 
 put down in the wrong place was treason ; a speck 
 of dust all but warning to Jessy, the unhappy house- 
 maid. The dining-room was tidy, too : no extraneous 
 things were allowed there, it must be kept free for 
 the reception of the patients : the " Times" newspaper 
 and the newest local journal, lay daily on the large 
 mahogany table, and there the litter ended. Perhaps, 
 therefore, it was no wonder that that other room was 
 not always in the order it might have been. 
 
 A charming room, nevertheless, on a sunny day. 
 Water-coloured drawings and pencil sketches in plain 
 frames lined the delicately-papered walls, loose music 
 was strewed near the piano and hai-p, books lay any- 
 where, pretty little ornamental trifles met the eye, 
 and fancy-work might be seen in more places than 
 one. The glass doors at the window, large and high, 
 stood open to the few wide steps that led to the green 
 lawn — a la^vn particularly grateful on a sultry sum- 
 mer's day. 
 
 For that lawn lay in the shade ; the sun in the 
 afternoon shone full on the front of the house, and 
 the lawn was sheltered. The scent of the roses, the 
 syringa, the heliotrope, and other powerfully-perfumed 
 flowers, filled the air, and butterflies and bees flitted
 
 32 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 from blossom to blossom. It was quite a contrast to 
 the other side of the bouse, with its busy street, its 
 hot pavement, its jostling traversers, and its garish 
 sunshine. Here lay the cool shade on the mossy 
 lawn — the quiet and the repose of the tinted flowers. 
 Seated on the lawn, on a garden-bench, was a 
 young lady, reading. A graceful girl of middle height, 
 with large hazel eyes quite luminous in their bright- 
 ness, a well-formed gentle face, rather pale, and brown 
 hair that took almost a golden tinge when the sun 
 shone through it. There was no very great beauty to 
 boast of in the face, but it was one of those that the 
 eye likes to rest upon — and love. A far more beauti- 
 ful face was that of another young girl, who was rest- 
 lessly moving amidst the side clusters of shrubs and 
 flowers, plucking the choicest. A face whose beauty 
 could not be denied, with its dark violet eyes, its 
 nearly black hair, and the damask complexion all too 
 bright : these strangely brilliant complexions do not 
 always go with the soundest of constitutions. She 
 was little, fairy-like, somewhat pettish and wilful in 
 her movements. A stranger would say they were 
 sisters, and be puzzled to tell which of the two was 
 the elder, which the younger. There was really no 
 likeness between them, save in the dress — that was 
 precisely similar : a thin gauzy silken material, cool
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 33 
 
 but rich, and no doubt expensive, with a good deal 
 of delicate coloured trimming upon it, and open 
 sleeves over white lace. Sisters they were not — 
 only cousins. 
 
 Suddenly there was a scream from the midst of 
 the flowers, and the young lady on the garden-bench 
 raised her eyes to speak. 
 
 "What is it, Caroline?" 
 
 She came forth in her beauty, flinging down the 
 flowers she had gathered, and holding out the back 
 of her hand. A deep scratch lay right across it. 
 
 ''Just look ! I am always tearing myself with those 
 wild-rose brambles V' 
 
 " Poor hand ! Sit still, Carine ; it is too hot for 
 anything else to-day. What do you want with the 
 flowers, that you need trouble yourself to get them ?" 
 
 " I don't know what I want with them. Nothing. 
 Picking them helped to pass away the time." 
 
 ""WTiy are you so restless this afternoon ?" 
 
 "Am I restless? One can't be always as quiet as 
 you — read, read, read for ever." 
 
 An amused smile parted the reader's lips, bringing 
 to view the pretty teeth, so wliite and regular. " I 
 will retort in nearly your own words, Carine — am I 
 quiet? I think not." 
 
 " Yes you are, except when the boys are at home.
 
 34 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 You are noisy enongli then. I shall go and eat some 
 fruit." 
 
 " Lend me your pencil first, Caroline." 
 
 Miss Caroline Davenal put her hand into her 
 pocket and could not find her pencil. " I must have 
 left it somewhere in-doors," she said. " You'll see it 
 if you look." 
 
 *' I must mark a passage here." 
 
 *' 'SATiat will Mr. Oswald Cray say to your marking 
 his hook?" 
 
 "Mr. Oswald Cray asked me to mark anything 
 that struck me. It is a delightful book." 
 
 Caroline Davenal went joyously down the garden, 
 singing a snatch of a song, as she put her handker- 
 cliief over her head to guard it from the sun. The 
 upper half of the long piece of ground was all pleasure 
 and flowers ; the lower half all usefulness, vegetables 
 and fruit-trees. Her cousin, book in hand, went up 
 the steps and in at the glass doors to find a pencil 
 She was bending over the centre table, searching for 
 one, when Dr. Davenal entered the room. 
 
 '■ Is Caroline here V 
 
 " She is in the garden, papa." 
 
 Dr. Davenal advanced to the window, and stood 
 at it, ostensibly lookmg for Caroline. He could not 
 see her ; the fruit-trees in the distance had effectually
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 35 
 
 hidden her, and the doctor appeared lost in thought. 
 Presently he spoke, without looking round. 
 
 " Sara, did you know that — that — in short, have 
 you ever observed that an attachment was arising 
 between Mr. Cray and Caroline V* 
 
 Sara looked up, but did not at once reply. The 
 question was one, put from a father to a daughter, 
 that brought up the blushes on her cheeks in her 
 maiden modesty. 
 
 "N — 0," she replied, at length. But the no, in 
 its hesitation, sounded almost as much like yes. 
 
 " My dear, I did not ask you to deceive me," was 
 the grave answer ; " I ask for the truth." 
 
 "Oh, paj)a, you know — jou knoiu I would not 
 deceive you," she replied, quite in distress. And 
 Dr. Davenal, pained by the tone, drew her to him and 
 kissed her cheek. He knew how good, how loving, 
 how dutiful, was this daughter of his. 
 
 "The real truth is this, papa. Very recently, 
 only since a day or two, a faint suspicion has arisen 
 in my mind that it might be so. Caroline has not 
 spoken, and I have had nothing to guide me to it, ex- 
 cept the fact that Mr. Cray is so much here. Indeed, 
 I do not know whether it is so or not." 
 
 " I believe I have been a little blind," observed 
 Dr. Davenal, speaking quite as much to himself as to
 
 36 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 his daughter. " The fact is, Sara, I had a notion in 
 my head that some one else had taken a fancy to 
 Caroline ; and I suppose I could see nothmg beyond 
 it. I speak of Mr. Oswald Cray." 
 
 It was well that Dr. Davenal's eyes were fixed on 
 the garden, or he might have wondered at the startled 
 change in his daughter's face. It had turned of one 
 glowing crimson. She moved again to the table, and 
 stood there with her back to the light. 
 
 " I suppose I was mistaken ; that there was no- 
 thing in it, Sara ? " 
 
 *' Nothing, papa, I think ; nothing whatever," 
 came the low-toned answer. 
 
 "But Mr. Oswald Cray does come here a great 
 deal when he is at Hallingham ?" pursued the doctor, 
 as if willing to debate the question. 
 
 The crimson grew deeper. Dr. Davenal did not 
 seem to observe that there was no answer. 
 
 " How the idea came to arise, I do not understand. 
 Heaven knows I should be the last man in the world 
 to scheme and plan out marriages — for Caroline or 
 for anybody else. Such matters are best left to come 
 about of themselves. But, Sara, I wish one thing — 
 that it had been Mr. Oswald Cray, instead of Mark." 
 
 " Do you, papa ?" with the blushing face still 
 turned from him.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 37 
 
 " Ay, I do. I could have trusted her to Oswald. 
 Hovj could she choose the other in preference to 
 him?" 
 
 Sara lifted her face. Eager words were on her 
 lips — to the effect that perhaps Mr. Oswald Cray- 
 might not have chosen Caroline. But they died away 
 unspoken. 
 
 "I wish you would go and tell her I want her 
 here, Sara." 
 
 Sara slipped by the doctor, passed over the cool 
 lawn to the distant sunny paths, and met her cousin. 
 
 " Papa wants you, Carine." 
 
 Caroline recoiled in her self-conscious timidity. 
 "'V\Tiat about?" she whispered. "Did he say what 
 about?" 
 
 "I think," said Sara slowly, scarcely knowing 
 whether she was doing right to speak or not, "that 
 it is something about Mr. Cray." 
 
 For a moment Caroline made no rejoinder. She 
 walked on and had nearly gained the lawn when she 
 turned her head again. Sara had lingered behind. 
 
 " Sara ! Sara ! Did he seem angry ?" she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " Not exactly angry. Vexed, I thought." 
 
 Dr. Davenal stood at the glass doors still He 
 put out his hand as she approached him.
 
 38 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 '•' Did you want me, Uncle Eicliard ?" 
 
 " Mr. Cray has been making an application to me, 
 concerning you. Caroline, were you cognisant of it ?" 
 
 " ITow, Uncle Eicliard ! If you are going to be 
 cross, I — I shall be so unhappy." 
 
 "When did you ever know me cross ?" he gravely 
 rejoined, and Caroline Davenal burst into tears. 
 
 " Caroline, my dear, we must put away this child- 
 ishness. You are but affecting it, and this is a serious 
 moment. I must talk to you very earnestly. Come 
 in, Sara. It is cooler in-doors than out." 
 
 Sara, who in her delicacy of feeling would have 
 remained outside, went within the room and sat down 
 to the table with her book. Caroline had dried her 
 passing tears, and was stealing a glance at Dr. Davenal. 
 
 " You are angry, Uncle Eichard.". 
 
 " K I am, Caroline, it is for your sake ; a loving 
 anger. My chief emotion, I believe, is surprise. I 
 never gave a thought to this ; not a suspicion of it 
 crossed me." 
 
 "I fancied you must have guessed it," was the 
 murmured answer. 
 
 "Guessed that! No, child. But the blindness 
 was my own, I believe. "When we ourselves place 
 one view deliberately before us, it tends to shut out 
 others. I had got it into my head, Carine, that it
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 39 
 
 was to your score we were indebted for the frequent 
 visits of Mr. Oswald Cray." 
 
 Caroline lifted lier face, and Dr. Davenal observed 
 bow genuine was the surprise depicted on it. '' Uncle 
 Eicbard ^ 
 
 " I see. I see now, cbild, tbat tbe idea was void 
 of foundation. But, Caroline," be gravely added, " I 
 would ratber it bad been Oswald tban Mark. All 
 tbe world must respect Oswald Cray." 
 
 "I sbould tbink it tvas void of foundation!" in- 
 dignantly returned Caroline, resenting tbe disparage- 
 ment cast on Mark. " Wby, Uncle Eicbard, Oswald 
 Cray likes Sara a tbousand times better tban be likes 
 me ! But not witb tbat sort of liking," sbe bastened 
 to add, lest a construction sbould be put upon tbe 
 words wbicb most certainly sbe never meant to put. 
 " General liking, I mean. Oswald Cray's beart is 
 buried in bis ambition, in bis busy life ; be gives 
 little tbougbt to augbt else. Uncle Eicbard, I would 
 not marry Oswald Cray if be were worth bis weight 
 in gdd. He would find fault witb me all day long.'* 
 
 " Well, weU ; let us drop Oswald Cray, and return 
 to the poLQt, Caroline. If " 
 
 " Lady Oswald, sir." 
 
 The interruption came from Neal. Tliey bad not 
 heard him open the door, and the announcement was
 
 40 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 tlie first intimation of his presence. Of course all 
 private conversation was at an end, and tlie doctor 
 half groaned as he turned to Lady Oswald. She 
 came in, her warm cashmere scarf drawn round her, 
 and her purple gowo. held up gracefully on the right 
 side, after the style of walking in the fashionable 
 world in the days when Lady Oswald was young. 
 
 Lady Oswald was one of those imaginary invalids 
 who give more trouble to their medical attendants 
 than a whole score of patients with real maladies. 
 Fussy and fidgety, she exacted constant attendance 
 from Dr. DavenaL She paid him well ; but she wor- 
 ried him nearly out of his life. On his leisure days, 
 when he could really afford the visit to her, and the 
 quarter-of-an-hour's chat spent in condoling with her 
 upon her array of ailments and in giving her the gossip 
 of Hallingham, he spared the time with a good grace : 
 but in a season of pressure, he did chafe at having to 
 pay this daily visit, when dpng men were waiting 
 for him. He had been with her that morning be- 
 tween ten and eleven : ISTeal had said she called while 
 he was out ; and now here she was again ! Once or 
 twice latterly he had sent Mr. Cray in his stead, and 
 she had not seemed to object to it. But she had come 
 for a different object now. 
 
 " Only two minutes' conversation with you, doctor,"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 41 
 
 she said, in a voice naturally feeble. "You must 
 spare it me, though it is Tuesday afternoon, and I 
 see your dining-room's getting full. Neal said you 
 were here, so I came in straight, not to he con- 
 founded with the patients. Only look at this letter 
 which was delivered to me this morning, and see 
 what it must have been to my nerv^es. Parkins has 
 been giving me red lavender ever since." 
 
 "But you know, Lady Oswald, that I object to 
 your taking red lavender." 
 
 " AVhat am I to do when a shock like that comes 
 to me ? Do read it, doctor." 
 
 Dr. Davenal, feeling that he had no time for letters 
 or nerves just then, was yet compelled in good man- 
 ners to accede. He opened the note, which was a 
 very short one, and ran his eyes over the contents ; 
 once and then again ; the first time he did not quite 
 master them. 
 
 It was WT-itten to Lady Oswald by her landlord, a 
 gentleman of the name of Low. It appeared that Mr. 
 Low had some little time back received an intimation 
 from the railway company that they should require 
 to take a small portion of the grounds attached to the 
 residence occupied by Lady Oswald, for the purpose 
 of erecting certain sheds necessary at that bend of the 
 line. This note was to inform her that he had given 
 I c2
 
 42 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 his consent, and it ended with a polite hope and 
 belief that neither the sheds nor the process of their 
 erection would prove any annoyance to her. 
 
 Dr. Davenal folded the letter w^hen read. Lady 
 Oswald looked at him. " What would yon advise me 
 to do?" she asked, in a fretful tone. 
 
 *' Indeed, Lady Oswald, I do not see what you 
 can do," he thoughtfully answered, " except submit 
 to it." 
 
 " Submit to it ! submit to their erecting railway 
 sheds in my very garden !" she ejaculated in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " From the very first hour that I knew they were 
 carrying that new line of rail close to your grounds, 
 I felt sure it would prove an annoyance to you in 
 some shape or other/' obser\^ed Dr. Davenal, speaking 
 more to himself than to Lady Oswald. " It is a great 
 pity, but we all have to submit occasionally to these 
 untoward things, Lady Oswald, as we go through 
 life." 
 
 "I shall not submit to this," she resolutely re- 
 turned. '' They have no more right to erect sheds on 
 my grounds, than they have to erect them upon me. 
 I shall forbid it." 
 
 " But the power to do so does not lie with you," 
 objected Dr. DavenaL "You are but a tenant on
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 43 
 
 lease. In point of fact, I do not suppose sucli power 
 lies with any one, not even with Low himself. 
 The railway companies seem to do pretty much as 
 they please in the kingdom. Mr. Low will be sure 
 to get well paid, and his consent, according to the 
 tenor of this note, is already given." 
 
 Lady Oswald pushed her grey hair nervously from 
 her brow. " Dr. Davenal, I don't helieve that the law 
 has power so to annoy innocent people and drive 
 them from their homes. Do you know how long I 
 have lived in that house?" 
 
 " A great many years now. Ever since the death 
 of Sir John." 
 
 " I have lived in it fourteen years, and I will not 
 be driven forth at their pleasure. I expected to die 
 in it, and I will die in it. If they attempt to touch 
 my grounds, I shall have them warned off as tres- 
 passers, and I will keep a couple of policemen on the 
 watch day and night." 
 
 Dr. Davenal did not then dispute the policy of the 
 avowed plan with her, or point out its futility. In 
 her present mood he knew it would be useless, even 
 if he had the time, to attempt it. 
 
 " Because I am a widow woman they think that 
 they can put upon me with impunity," she resumed ; 
 " but they will find their mistake. I have telegraphed
 
 44 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 for Mr. Oswald Cray, and expect hira down by night 
 time." 
 
 "Yon have telegraphed for him?'* cried Dr. 
 Davenal. 
 
 " Of course I have. Who else is there to take 
 my part, doctor, save him or yon ? That letter was de- 
 livered just after yon left me this morning, and I sent 
 to the telegraph at once. Oswald can fight them ; and 
 he has influence : they will be clever to overreach Am." 
 
 Dr. Davenal opened his mouth to speak, but sup- 
 pressed the impidsive words upon his tongue. To 
 what end recall to Lady Oswald's attention the fact 
 that Mr. Oswald Cray, as one of the engineers to the 
 line, must necessarily be against her, if she had not 
 the sense to remember it ? He said a few words to 
 the effect that he mitst go to his patients, gave Lady 
 Oswald a half promise to see her that night, and left 
 her to be entertained by his daughter. 
 
 " My dear, why need Miss Carine have run away 
 from me the moment I came in?" 
 
 Sara smiled. " iN'ot from you, Lady Oswald ; I 
 think she wanted to run from us all. And perhaps 
 she thought your visit was only to papa." 
 
 "How is IMiss Davenal?" 
 
 "Quite well. Will you see her?" She is in the 
 drawins-room."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 45 
 
 Lady Oswald hesitated. 
 
 " My dear, of course I should be glad to see her ; 
 I wish to pay her every respect ; but — jou know, it 
 is so great a trial to me — with my little weak voice. 
 However, I will go up, as I am here. Is her deafness 
 better?" 
 
 '' ISTot at all/' was Sara's answer. '' I don't sup- 
 pose it ever will be better. It gets worse, we think, 
 as she grows old.'^ 
 
 " Grows what V^ cried Lady Oswald. 
 
 Sara had quick perceptions, and she felt that the 
 word old, as applied to her aunt, had offended Lady 
 Oswald's ear. How changed do our ideas of age 
 become, as our own years change ! To Sara Davenal 
 with her twenty years, her aunt, verging on fifty, was 
 old ; to Lady Oswald, who would count seventy-one 
 her next birth-day, Miss Davenal seemed but as a 
 youngish woman ! 
 
 Lady Oswald stepped slowly up the wide stair- 
 case, one foot at a time. Sara followed her, and 
 threw open the door of the handsome drawing-room. 
 A large, square room, beautiful as a show place ; and 
 to keep it beautiful was the hobby of Miss Bettina 
 Davenal.
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 MISS BETTINA DAVENAL. 
 
 ]\IlSS Da^t:nal sat in lier usual seat near the window, 
 her straight figure holt upright, her knitting needles 
 plying fast their work, the small inlaid table at her 
 right hand holding the open pearl basket of wool. 
 How many stockings, socks, sleeves, and chest-pro- 
 tectors, were knitted by Miss Davenal in the course 
 of the year, the poor alone could tell — for they were 
 the recipients. Hallingham surmised that she must 
 spend half her income upon wooL There's no doubt 
 she was a charitable, well-meaning woman at heart, 
 but she did not always show it in her manner. 
 
 A beautiful woman in her day must have been 
 Bettina Davenal, with her pure complexion and her 
 classical features. But the grey eyes had a cold, 
 hard look in them now ; and the nose, across the 
 hioh bridge of which the delicate skin was drawn 
 so tightly, was almost painfully thin. The name 
 Bettina, had been bestowed on her at the request of 
 a godmother, a lady of Italian origin ; not an ugly
 
 OSWALD CTvAY. 47 
 
 name, but somewhat long for the everyday use of 
 English tongues, and those familiar with her occa- 
 sionally shortened it into '' Miss Bett," a liberty that 
 was resented by Miss Davenal. She laboured under 
 that troublesome defect, intense deafness, and also 
 under the no less troublesome conviction (not unfre- 
 quently accompanying it) that she was not deaf at all. 
 Her hair, of a pale flaxen, soft and abundant still, 
 was worn in smooth braids, and was surmounted by a 
 rich lace head-dress, very high. 
 
 She need not have added to her height : she was 
 tall enough without it ; as was seen when she rose to 
 receive Lady Oswald. A straight-down, thin, upright 
 figure, without crinolines or cordings, her grey damask 
 dress falling in wrapt folds around her as she held 
 forth her mittened hand. 
 
 " I hope I see you better, Lady Oswald." 
 
 The tone was unnaturally high : you may have 
 noticed that it is so sometimes in deaf people. Lady 
 Oswald, with her weak nerves, would have put her 
 hands to her ears had she done as she liked, 
 
 " I am not well to-day. I am worse than usual. 
 I have had a most unx^leasant shock, IMiss Davenal ; 
 an upset." 
 
 "A what?" cried Miss Davenal, putting her hand 
 to her ear.
 
 48 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " An upset." 
 
 "Bless my lieart!" cried Miss Davenal ; "did 
 your carriage run away?" 
 
 " Tell her, Sara," groaned Lady Oswald. " I shall 
 be hoarse for two days if I call out like this." 
 
 "Lady Oswald has had some unpleasant news, 
 aunt. She has received notice that they are going to 
 run the railway through her grounds." 
 
 Miss Davenal caught a word or so, and looked 
 terrified. ''Eeceived notice that they are going to 
 run a railway through her ! "What do you mean ?" 
 
 "I^ot through her," said Sara, putting her lips 
 close to the deaf ears. " Through her grounds." 
 
 " But I'd not let them," cried Miss Davenal, hear- 
 ing now. " I'd not let them. Lady Oswald." 
 
 " I won't," screamed Lady Oswald at the top of her 
 voice. " I have sent for Mr. Oswald Cray." 
 
 Miss Davenal was dubious. "What good will 
 that do? Is it to pelt upon them? I hate those 
 wicked railways." 
 
 " Is what to pelt upon them ?" 
 
 " The clay. Didn't you say you had sent for some 
 clay?" 
 
 " Oh dear ! Sara, do make her understand." 
 
 Poor Sara had to do her best. " JSTot clay, Aunt 
 Bettina ; Mr. Oswald Cray."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 49 
 
 Aunt Bettiua nodded lier stately head. " 1 like 
 Mr. Oswald Cray. He is a favourite of mine, Lady 
 Oswald." 
 
 "As he is of everybody's, Miss Davenal," returned 
 Lady Oswald. "I'd have remembered him in my 
 will but for offending the Oswald family. They are 
 dreadfully prejudiced." 
 
 "Pinched!" echoed Miss Davenal. "Where's he 
 pinched ?" 
 
 "Prejudiced, Aunt Bettina. Lady Oswald says 
 the Oswald family are prejudiced." 
 
 " You need not roar out in that way, Sara ; I can 
 hear, I hope. I am not so deaf as all that comes to. 
 What's he prejudiced at? — the railway? He ought 
 not to be, he is one of its engineers." 
 
 "Xot ]VIr. Oswald Cray, aunt. The Oswald 
 family. They are prejudiced against him." 
 
 " If you speak to me again in that manner, Sara, 
 I shall complain to your papa. One would think 
 you were calling out to somebody at the top of the 
 chimney. As if I and Lady Oswald did not know 
 that the Oswald family are prejudiced against Oswald 
 Cray ? We don't want you to tell it us from a speak- 
 ing-trumpet ; we knew it before you were bom. I 
 don't tliink he cares for their prejudices, Lady Oswald," 
 Miss Davenal added, turning to her. 
 I D
 
 60 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " He would be very foolisli if he did. / don't. 
 They are prejudiced, you know, against me." 
 
 "I think the world must be coming to an end, 
 with all these rails and stations and sheds," fretfully 
 spoke Miss Davenal. 
 
 " The news has made me ill," said Lady Oswald, 
 who liked nothing half so well as to speak of her own 
 ailments. " I was getting better, as Dr. Davenal can 
 tell you, but this will throw me back for weeks. My 
 maid has been giving me red lavender ever since." 
 
 Miss Davenal looked at her with a puzzled stare. 
 
 " That is poison, is it not V 
 
 " Wliat is poison ?" 
 
 "Eedlead." 
 
 '' I said red lavender," cried Lady Oswald. " It 
 is very good for the spirits : a few drops taken on a 
 lump of sugar. Eed lav-en-der." 
 
 Miss Davenal resolutely shook her head. " Nasty 
 stuff !" she cried. " Eed lavender never did anybody 
 good yet, Lady Oswald. Leave it off ; leave it off." 
 
 '* I don't touch it once in a month in an ordinary 
 way," screamed Lady Oswald. " Only when anything 
 beyond common arises to flurry me." 
 
 Miss Bettuia stared at her. " "What common is 
 flooded ? It is dry weather." 
 
 Lady Oswald cast a helpless look at Sara.
 
 OSWALD CRAY, 61 
 
 "Flurried, Aunt Bettina," said the young lady. 
 " Lady Oswald said when she was flurried," 
 
 Miss Bettina was not in the least grateful for the 
 assistance. She pushed away her niece with her 
 elbow. It was in fact next to high treason for Sara 
 to attempt to assist Miss Davenal's deafness. " I 
 should not allow things to flurry me, Lady Oswald 
 I never was flurried in my life." 
 
 "Temperaments are constituted differently," re- 
 turned Lady Oswald. 
 
 "Temper!" cried Miss Davenal, as angrily as 
 politeness would allow her, " what has temper to do 
 with it ? Who accuses me of temper?" 
 
 " Tem-per-a-ment," corrected Lady Oswald, crack- 
 ing her voice. " Sara, I must go." 
 
 She rose quickly ; she could not stand the inter- 
 view any longer ; but in spite of the misapprehen- 
 sions they took leave of each other cordially. The 
 same scene occurred every time they met : as it did 
 whenever .conversation was attempted with Miss 
 DavenaL It cannot be denied that she heard better 
 at times than at others, occasionally tolerably well ; 
 and hence perhaps the source, or partially so, of her 
 own belief that her deafness was but of a slight nature. 
 When alone with the familiar family voices, and in 
 quiet times, she could hear ; but in moments of sur-
 
 52 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 prise and excitement, in paying or receiving visits, 
 the ears were nearly hopeless. 
 
 Neal attended Lady Oswald to her carriage, 
 waiting there at the gate with its powdered coach- 
 man and footman, to the gratification of the juvenile 
 street Arabs of Hallingham ; the same ever-assiduous, 
 superior servant, quite dignified in his respectability. 
 Lady Oswald believed him perfection — that there was 
 not another such servant in the world. 
 
 "Your mistress grows more distressingly deaf 
 than ever, Neal," she remarked, as he put her dress 
 straight in the carriage, her own footman resigning 
 the ofl&ce to him with almost the same submission 
 that he might have resigned it to Mr. Cray, had the 
 young surgeon been at hand to assist her in, as he 
 had been to assist her out. 
 
 "She does, my lady. It is a great affliction. 
 Home," loftily added Neal to the servants : and he 
 bowed low as the carriage drove away.
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 The house of Lady Oswald was an old-fashioned 
 red brick mansion of moderate size, two stories in 
 height only, and with gable ends. It was exceedingly 
 comfortable inside, and was surrounded by rather 
 extensive grounds. At the opposite end of the town 
 to the station, it might have been thought that that 
 vulgar innovation, the railroad, so especially obnoxious 
 to Lady Oswald, would at least have spared it offen- 
 sive contact ; but that was not to be. There was no 
 accounting for the curves and tracks taken by those 
 lines of the junction, and one of them had gone off 
 at a tangent to skirt the very boundary of her land. 
 
 Seated in the front drawing-room, the one chiefly 
 used by Lady Oswald, was a woman of some forty 
 years, attired in a neat green-coloured gown, and cap 
 with white ribbons. This was Parkins, Lady Oswald's 
 maid, recently promoted to be somewhat of a com- 
 panion, for Lady Oswald began to dislike being much
 
 54 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 alone. A well-meaning faithful woman, with weak 
 eyes and weak will, and given to tears on very sli^it 
 occasions. Parkins had also been lately made house- 
 keeper as well as companion, and the weekly accounts 
 connected with that department threatened to be the 
 bane of Parkins's life. Add them up, she could not ; 
 make them come right, she could not : and she could 
 get neither mercy nor assistance from Lady Oswald, 
 who had always been her own account-keeper, and 
 never found any trouble in it. Two tradesmen's books 
 were before Parkins now, and she was bending over 
 them in despair, during her lady's absence. 
 
 *' I can't as much as read the figures," she groaned : 
 " how, then, am I to add 'em up ? Last week there 
 was an overcharge of ten shillings in this very butcher's 
 book, and my lady found it out, and hasn't done talk- 
 ing to me for it yet. It isnH my fault : all folks are 
 not born with a head for figures. And why can't 
 tradespeople make their figures plain?" 
 
 Had she not been so absorbed by the book and its 
 complications, she might have seen the approach of a 
 visitor. A tall and very gentlemanly man of some 
 eight-and-twenty years, with a countenance that would 
 have been remarkably frank and pleasing but for the 
 expression of pride pervading it : nay, that vjas frank 
 and pleasing in spite of the pride. He could not help
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 55 
 
 the pride ; it was innate, born with him ; he did not 
 make his own face, and the lines of pride were in- 
 herent in it. The pale features were regular, the hair 
 dark, the eyes dark blue, and lying rather deep in the 
 head ; good and honest eyes they were, searching and 
 truthful : and when he smiled, as he was smiling now, 
 it made full amends for deficiencies, obliterating every 
 trace of pride, and imparting a singular charm to the face. 
 
 His approach had been discerned by one of the 
 maid-servants, and she had come to the hall-door and 
 was holding it open. It was at her he had smiled, 
 for in manner he was exceedingly affable. Perhaps 
 the very consciousness of the pride that clung to him, 
 and was his besetting sin, rendered him resolute that 
 in manner at least he should not offend. 
 
 " How are you, Susan ? Is Lady Oswald within ?" 
 
 " No, sir, my lady's out," was the girl's reply, as 
 she dropped a curtsey. " Parkins is in the drawing- 
 room, sir, I think : I daresay she can tell whether 
 my lady will be long." 
 
 He laid on the hall-table a small roll of paper or 
 parchment that he carried, threw off a dusty light 
 overcoat, and took up the roll again. Susan opened 
 the drawing-room door. 
 
 " Mr. Oswald Cray." 
 
 Parkins gave a scream. Parkins was somewhat
 
 ^Q OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 addicted to giving screams when startled or surprised. 
 Starting up from her chair and her perf)lexing books, 
 . she stood staring at him, as if unable to take in the 
 fact of his presence. Parkins believed in marvels, 
 and thought one had been enacted then. 
 
 " Oh, sir 1 how did you come ? You must have 
 travelled surely on the telegraph wires ? " 
 
 " Not I," answered Mr. Oswald Cray, smiling at 
 her astonishment, but not understanding its cause. 
 "I left London by rail tliis morning, Parkins." 
 
 " A telegraph message went up for you an hour or 
 two ago, sir," continued Parkins. " My lady has had 
 bad, news, sir, and she sent for you." 
 
 " I had no message. I must have left London 
 previously. What bad news has she had ?" 
 
 "It's them railway people, sir," explained Par- 
 kins. " They have been writing a letter to my lady 
 — leastways the landlord has — saying that they are 
 going to take these grounds and build upon them. 
 1 haven't seen her so upset for a long while, sir. 
 When she got a bit better from the shock and had 
 sent to the telegraph, she ordered the carriage, and 
 set off to, tell Dr. Day enal." 
 
 " Do you expect her to be long ? " he asked, think- 
 ing that, if so, he might go about some business he 
 had to do, and come back again.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 57 
 
 " I expect lier every minute, sir ; she has been 
 gone a great deal .longer than I thought she'd be 
 away." 
 
 He walked to the window, unrolled the parch- 
 ment, and began to look at it. It seemed a sort of 
 map, drawn with ink. Parkins, who, whatever 
 might be the companionship she was admitted to -by 
 her mistress, knew her place better than to remain 
 in the presence of Mr. Oswald Cray, gathered up her 
 account-book and her pen and ink, and prepared to 
 quit the room. , 
 
 "Shall I order you any refreshment, sir?" she 
 stopped to ask. 
 
 " ISTot any, thank you." * . - 
 
 She closed the door, leaving him deep in . his 
 parchment. Another minute, and the carriage was 
 seen bowling quickly up. He went out to meet it : 
 and Lady Oswald gave a scream as Parkins had 
 done, and wanted to know how he had got there. 
 
 " I came dow^n on my own account. Lady' Os- 
 wald," he said, as he gave her his arm to lead her in. 
 ".My visit is a purposed one to you." 
 
 " I'm sure you are very good, Oswald !" It. is not 
 oft^n that you honour me with a visit. Wheny.du. 
 "are staying in the neighbourhood for days, and days, 
 a simple call of ceremony is about all I get."
 
 58 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 His lips parted with that peculiar smile which 
 made his face at these moments so attractive. 
 "When I am in the neighbourhood, Lady Oswald, 
 business nearly overwhelms me. I have not much 
 time to call my own." 
 
 Lady Oswald untied her bonnet, and threw her- 
 self into a chair : only the drive to Dr. Davenal's 
 and back had tired her. Parkins came into the 
 room to take her things, but she waved her hand 
 shai-ply, impatient at the interruption. "Presently, 
 presently/' — and Parkins left them alone again. 
 
 " Oswald, do you know what a cruel letter I have 
 had this morning ? They want to bring that 
 wretched railway through my grounds." 
 
 " I^ot the railway," he said, correcting her. 
 " They are proposing to build some sheds upon the 
 boundaries of them." 
 
 " You know about it, then ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I came down to acquaint you, and I am 
 sorry you should have heard of it from any one else 
 first. I could have spared you one half the alarm 
 and annoyance it seems to have caused. Look here. 
 This is the plan." 
 
 He spread the paper out before her. He pointed 
 out the very small portion of the grounds, and in the 
 remotest part of them, not in sight of the house, or
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 69 
 
 the parts ever walked in by herself, that was pro- 
 posed to be taken : he assured her that the projected 
 sheds were but small sheds, for barrows, trucks, and 
 such things to stand under ; that they would, in 
 point of fact, be no annoyance to her, that she never 
 need see or hear them. All in vain. Lady Oswald 
 had set her mind bitterly against the innovation ; 
 she could neither be persuaded nor soothed, and she 
 felt vexed with Mr. Oswald Cray that he should at- 
 tempt it. 
 
 " It is very well for you to praise it," she resent- 
 fully said. " Your interest lies in the line, not in 
 me. Perhaps they have bribed you to say all this." 
 
 For a single moment his face grew dark, and its 
 haughty pride shone out quite repellantly ; the next 
 he was smiling his sweet smile. None knew better 
 than Oswald Cray how rebelliously false the tongue 
 is apt to be in moments of irritation. 
 
 " Dear Lady Oswald, you know that it is foreign 
 to my nature to cause 'needless pain. When this 
 news reached my ears a week ago, for the plan did 
 not originate with me, I bestirred myself to see 
 whether it might not be relinquished ; whether, in 
 short, the sheds could not be erected on any other 
 portion of the line. But I find that there is no other 
 portion available so close to the station."
 
 60 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 " There 's that piece of waste ground midway be- 
 tween this and the station," she answered. "Why 
 can they not take that?" 
 
 *' Another station is to be made there. One for 
 goods." 
 
 " Another station ! Do they think to bring all the 
 world to Hallingham?" 
 
 "They are bringing a great many lines of rails to it." 
 
 "But they need not disturb my possessions to 
 make room for them !" she quickly retorted. " Surely 
 your interest might get this spared to me !" 
 
 In vain Mr. Oswald Cray strove to convince her 
 that on this point he had no influence whatever. 
 Nay, he confessed to her, in his candid truth, that 
 as one of the engineers to the line, he could only 
 acquiesce in the expediency of that part being used 
 for the sheds, that there was no other spot so available. 
 
 " I drew this plan out myself," he said, " partly 
 from our charts of the line, partly from my personal 
 recollection of your grounds. I wished to demonstrate 
 to you how very little a portion of them is, in fact, 
 required. Will you put on your bonnet again. Lady 
 Oswald, and walk with me to the spot ? I will show 
 you the exact measure they intend to take." 
 
 " No, I won't," said Lady Oswald, angrily. " And 
 you ought not to turn against me, Oswald. It is the
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 61 
 
 principle of the thing I go upon ; the resistance that, 
 in my opinion, should be universally made to these 
 intrusive railways, which are cutting up the country 
 and ruining it. If they wanted to take but one foot 
 of my ground ; if they only wanted that dry ditch 
 that skirts it, they should never have it by my con- 
 sent, and I will hold out against it to the last. Now 
 you know." 
 
 She sat nervously unpinning her cashmere scarf 
 her hands trembling so that she could scarcely hold 
 the gold pins as she took them out. Oswald Cray 
 slowly rolled up the parchment. He had come down 
 from town at a very busy moment, when he could ill 
 spare the time, with the sole hope of soothing the 
 news to her, of putting her in good humour with what 
 must inevitably be. He had received many little 
 kindnesses from her in his life, especially in his boy- 
 hood ; and he was one to treasure up the remembrance 
 of kindness shown, and repay it if he could. 
 
 It may seem a very trifling thing, this project of 
 erecting a few low, trumpery .sheds ; as may Lady 
 Oswald's inveterate objection to it. But it is on trifles 
 that the great events of life turn ; and, but for this 
 project of the sheds, this not-to-be-conquered refusal, 
 the greater portion of this story need never have been 
 written.
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 EETROSPECT. 
 
 Of some note in the county, though poor for their 
 rank, were the Oswalds of Thorndyke. Thorndyke, 
 their country seat, was situated about five miles from 
 Hallingham, and had been generally made the con- 
 stant residence of the reigning baronet. It was a fine 
 old place ; the dyke surrounding it, or dike, as you 
 may like to spell it — from which the place no doubt 
 had partially taken its name — was of remarkable 
 width. It was filled up in the time of Lady Oswald's 
 husband, the third baronet of his name ; and fine 
 pleasure-grounds might be seen now where unwhole- 
 some water had once stagnated. Possibly that water 
 had been the remote and imsuspected cause of the 
 dying off of so many of the house's children — as they 
 had died in the old days. 
 
 The second baronet, Sir Oswald Oswald, lost five 
 children in succession. Two daughters and a son 
 alone lived to grow up : and perhaps it had been as
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 63 
 
 well for the peace of Sir Oswald and his wife had 
 those three likewise died in infancy ; for pain they 
 all brought home in one shape or other. They were 
 self-willed and disobedient ; preferring their own 
 ways. The son wished to go into the army : his 
 father had the greatest possible aversion to it ; but 
 he persisted, and went, in spite of remonstrance. The 
 younger daughter, Frances, married an old man for 
 his rank : Sir Oswald objected to it ; the man's cha- 
 racter was of startling notoriety ; but Frances took 
 her own will and married him. A few short months 
 only, and she was back again at Thomdyke, driven 
 to take refuge from her husband in her father's home. 
 The elder daughter, Mary, married Mr. Cray, a gentle- 
 man of no account, in comparison with the Oswalds 
 of Thorndyke. To this the most strenuous objection 
 of all was made by Sir Oswald and his lady — in their 
 haughty pride they looked down with utter contempt 
 upon Mr. Cray. Miss Oswald disputed the grounds 
 of their objection, urging that Mr. Cray, though of no 
 particular note, was at least of gentle blood and breed- 
 ing, and though his means might be small, she deemed 
 them sufficient. It was of no use : she could make 
 no impression on her father and mother, she could 
 not shake their refusal of consent, and she married 
 Mr. Cray witliout it. Public opinion on the matter
 
 64 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 was divided. Some took Miss Oswald's part. Slie 
 was of an age to judge for lierseK; being, in fact, 
 no longer very young ; and there appeared no good 
 reason, save that he was not wealthy, for objecting to 
 Mr. Cray. But her family — father, mother, brother, 
 sister — bitterly resented it, and said she had disgraced 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Cray had about eight hundred a year, deriv- 
 able from money in the funds, and he lived in the 
 Abbey at Hallingham. The Oswalds enjoyed some 
 three or four thousand a year, landed property, and 
 they lived at Thorndyke, and were baronets, and very 
 grand. Of course there was a great difference ; but 
 some thought the difference might have been got over 
 by Sir Oswald. Some went so far as to say that Mr. 
 Cray, with his fine manly person and good conduct, 
 was a better man than that shrivelled old lord who 
 was breaking the heart of his poor wife, the younger 
 daughter. Sir Oswald and Lady Oswald could not 
 be brought to see it ; none of the Oswalds could see 
 it ; and, take them altogether, brothers, cousins, uncles 
 and nephews, there was a large family of them. 
 
 Mary Oswald married Mr. Cray, and he brought 
 her home to Hallingham Abbey, and her friends never 
 saw her after ; that is, they never would recognise 
 her. Many a Tuesday, on which day the family
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 65 
 
 from TliorMdyke would drive into Hallingliam in 
 their carriage and four — as was the habit with some 
 of the county people — did they pass her without 
 notice. They would be in the large close carriage, 
 the old baronet and my lady, and their daughter 
 Frances — who had no home now but theirs — opposite 
 to them, and they would see Mrs. Cray at the Abbey 
 windows, alone or with her husband, as the case might 
 be, for their road took them past it, and all the greet- 
 ing they gave her was a stony stare. Time went on, 
 and there appeared a baby at her side, a pretty little 
 fellow in long petticoats, held in his nurse's arms. That 
 baby was named Oswald Oswald, and was the Mr, 
 Oswald Cray whom you have seen : but the stare from 
 the baronet's carriage was not less stony than before. 
 A twelvemonth more, when Oswald could just 
 begin to run about in his pretty white frocks, and get 
 his sturdy legs into grief, his hands into mischief, 
 another child was born, and died. Poor Mrs. Cray 
 died herself a few weeks afterwards. People said she 
 had grown weak, fretting after Thorndyke, after her 
 fatlier and mother, lamenting their hardness, regretting 
 her own disobedience ; but people are prone to talk, 
 and often say things for which there's not a shadow 
 of foundation. She died without having seen her 
 friends — -unreconciled ; and when Mr. Cray wrote to 
 I D 2
 
 QQ OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Sir Oswald a very proper letter, not familiar, but giv- 
 ing the details of her death, no answer was accorded 
 him. Mrs. Cray, as Mary Oswald, had possessed a 
 small income independent of her father, and this on 
 her death passed to her little son. It was just one 
 hundred and six pounds per yeai*, and she made it 
 her dying request that he should use the surname of 
 Oswald in addition to that of Cray — should be known 
 henceforth as Master Oswald Cray. 
 
 And it was so ; and when the boy first entered a 
 noted public school for gentlemen's sons, far away 
 from Hallingham, and the boys saw him sign his 
 exercises and copies "0. Oswald Cray," they asked 
 him what the " " was for. For his christian name, 
 he answered. AYas not Oswald his christian name? 
 they wanted to know. Yes, his christian and his 
 surname both, he said, Oswald Oswald. It was his 
 grandpapa's christian and surname, Sir Oswald Oswald. 
 Oh ! was Tie his grandfather ? asked the boys. Y^'es ; 
 but — Oswald added in his innate love of truth — he 
 had never been the better for him. Sir Oswald had 
 never spoken to him in his Life ; there was something 
 unpleasant between him and his papa, he did not 
 know what. Is'o ; at that stage of the boy's age he 
 was unconscious what the breach was, or that his 
 dead mother had made it.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 67 
 
 Poor Oswald Cray had not had a very happy 
 childhood's life ; he scarcely knew what was meant 
 ■ by the words, home ties, home love. He had never 
 enjoyed them. There was a second Mrs. Cray, and 
 a second family, and she did not like the boy Oswald, 
 or care that he should be at home. He was but foiu^ 
 years old when he was despatched to a far-off pre- 
 paratory school, where he was to stay the holidays as 
 well as the half years. ISTow and then, about once in 
 two years or so, he would be had home for a fortnight 
 at Christmas, and Mr. Cray would make an occasional 
 journey to see him. 
 
 It was at ten years old that he was removed to 
 the public school, where the boys asked him the 
 meaning of the " 0.'^ Before that time came, grief 
 had penetrated to the family of Sir Oswald Oswald. 
 His only son and heir had died in battle in India ; 
 His daughter Frances, who had never gone back to 
 the old lord, had died at Thorndyke ; and Sir Oswald 
 and his wife were childless. ISTeither survived the 
 year, and when Oswald was eleven years old, and 
 getting to hold his own in the school, the title had 
 devolved on the next brother, Sir John. Sir John 
 was sixty when he came into it, and had no children. 
 He had offended the Oswald family in the same 
 wav that Mars' Oswald had offended them, by marrv-
 
 68 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 ing a lady ^Yllose family was not as good as Lis 
 own. 
 
 That lady was the present widow, Lady Oswald, 
 now lamenting over the threatened innovation of the 
 railway sheds. Sir John Oswald enjoyed the title 
 for four years only, and then it lapsed to a cousin, for 
 Sir John had no children. The cousin. Sir Philip, 
 enjoyed it still and lived at Thorndyke, and his eldest 
 son would succeed him. They were proud also, those 
 present Oswalds of Thorndyke, and never had spoken 
 to Oswald Cray in their lives. The prejudices of 
 old Sir Oswald had descended upon them, and Sir 
 Philip and Lady Oswald would pass Oswald Cray, if 
 hy chance they met him, with as stony a stare as had 
 ever greeted his poor mother. 
 
 Perhaps the only one of the whole Oswald family 
 upon whom the prejudices had not descended, was 
 the widow of Sir John. Upon the death of her hus- 
 band, when she had to leave Thorndyke, she took 
 on lease the house at Hallingham, and had never 
 removed from it. Her jointure was not a large one ; 
 but Sir John had bequeathed to her certain monies 
 absolutely, and these were at her own disposal These 
 monies were also being added to yearly, for she did 
 not spend all her income ; so that it was supposed 
 Lady Oswald would leave a pretty little sum behind
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 69 
 
 hor, by ^vhich somebody would benefit. There was 
 no lack of "somebodies" to look out for it, for Lady 
 Oswald had two nephews with large families, both of 
 whom wanted help badly. One of these nephews, 
 the Eeverend Mr. Stephenson, was a poor curate, 
 struggling to bring up his seven children upon one 
 hundred a year. Lady Oswald sent him a little help 
 now and then ; but she was not fond of giving away 
 her money. 
 
 The pride and prejudices of the family had not 
 fallen upon her, and she noticed and welcomed Oswald 
 Cray. He was fifteen when she settled at Halling- 
 ham, and she had him to spend his first holida}'S with 
 her afterwards. She had continued to notice him 
 ever since ; to invite him occasionally, and she was 
 in her way fond of him ; but it was not in the nature 
 of Lady Oswald to feel much fondness for any one. 
 
 And yet, though not in her inmost heart cherish- 
 ing the prejudices of the Oswalds, she did in a degree 
 adopt them. She could not be independent and brave 
 them off. Conscious that she was looked down upon 
 herself by the Oswalds, she could not feel sufficiently 
 free to take up her own standard of conduct, and fling 
 those prejudices utterly to the winds. Upon toler- 
 ably good terms with Thorndyke, paying it occasional 
 state visits, and reeeiving state visits from it in return,
 
 70 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 she did not openly defy all Tliorndyke's prejudices. 
 Though she acknowledged Oswald Cray as a relative, 
 received him as an equal, there it ended, and she 
 never, by so much as a word or a nod, recognised his 
 father, JMr. Cray. She never had known him, and 
 she did not enter upon the acquaintance. But in this 
 there was nothing offensive, nothing that need have 
 hurt the feelings of the Crays ; Lady Oswald and 
 they were strangers, and she was not bound to make 
 their acquaintance, any more than she was that of 
 other gentlepeople about Hallingham, moving in a 
 sphere somewhat inferior to herself. 
 
 Mr. Cray had continued to reside at Hallingham 
 Abbey, and to live at it in a style that his income 
 did not justify. However the Oswalds may have 
 despised him, he did not desj)ise himself ; neither 
 did Hallingham. Mr. Cray of the Abbey was of note 
 in the town ; Mr. Cray was courted and looked up 
 to ; Mr. Cray went to dinner-parties, and gave them ; 
 Mr. Cray's wife was fashionable and extravagant, and 
 so were Mr. Cray's daughters ; and altogether Mr. 
 Cray was a great man, and spent thousands where he 
 ought to have spent hundreds. 
 
 He had four children, not counting Oswald — 
 Marcus and three daucrhters — and it cost somethinor 
 to bring them out in the world. Marcus, changeable
 
 OSWALD Cr.AY. 7l 
 
 and vacillating by nature, fixed upon half a dozen 
 professions or occupations for himself, before he 
 decided upon the one he finally embraced — that of 
 a doctor. Chance, more than anything else, caused 
 him to decide on this at last. Altogether, what 
 with home extravagance and the cost of his children, 
 Mr. Cray became an embarrassed man ; and when he 
 died, about two years previous to the opening of this 
 story, a very slender support was left for his wife and 
 daughters. His will did not even mention Oswald. 
 Two or three hundred pounds were left to Marcus — 
 the rest to Mrs. Cray, for her life, and to go to her 
 daughters afterwards. 
 
 Oswald had not expected any. Where a home 
 gives no affection, it is not very likely to give money. 
 When Oswald had come of age he found that his own 
 income, of which his father was trustee, had not only 
 been spent upon his education, but the principal had 
 been very considerably drawn upon as well — in fact, 
 it would take years to redeem it. " I was obliged to 
 do it, Oswald," his father said. " I could not limit 
 your educational expenses, and there was the heavy 
 premium to pay in Parliament Street. I'd wilUngly 
 have paid all cost myself ; but it has not been in my 
 power." 
 
 Oswald was not ungenerous. He grasped his
 
 V2 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 father's hand and warmly thanked him, saying it was 
 only right his own money should pay his cost when 
 there were so many at home to educate. Ah, it was 
 not the money he regretted. Had every sixpence of 
 it been spent — why, it was spent — he was young and 
 strong, with a good profession before him, and brains 
 and hands to work it, he could make his own way in 
 the world, and he should make it. No, it was not 
 the money ; but what Oswald had been hurt at, was 
 the manner in which they had estranged him from his 
 home ; had kept him from the father s affection which 
 he had yearned for. He knew that the fault had 
 been Mrs. Cray's ; that his father held him aloof only 
 under her influence. He did not allow himself to 
 blame his father even in his own heart ; but he could 
 not help thinking that were he ever placed in a 
 similar situation, he should openly love and cherish 
 his first-born son, in spite of all the second wives in 
 the world. Oswald had yet to learn by experience 
 how utterly futile is that boast which we are all apt 
 to make — that we should act so differently in other 
 jDCople's places. Never was there a truer aphorism 
 than the homely saying : " Nobody knows where the 
 shoe pinches save those who wear it." 
 
 Oswald Cray had been born proud : it might be 
 detected in every tone of his decisive voice, in every
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 73 
 
 turn of his well-set head, in every lineament of his 
 haughty features. He could not help it. It is well 
 to repeat this assertion, because pride is sometimes 
 looked upon as a failing demanding heavy reproach. 
 There it was, and he could not shake it out of him any 
 more than he could shake out his other qualities or 
 feelings. It was discerned in him when a little child ; 
 it was seen conspicuously in his school-days ; it 
 reigned paramount in his early manhood. " The boy 
 has the proud spirit of his grandfather Sir Oswald," 
 quoth the gossips ; and no doubt it was from that 
 quarter that it had come. Only in his later days, 
 those years between twenty and thirty, when thought 
 and experience were coming to him, did it grow less 
 observable, for he had the good sense to endeavour to 
 keep it in due subjection. 
 
 But it was not a bad sort of pride, after aU. It 
 was not the foolish pride of the Oswalds generally, 
 who deemed everybody beneath them ; it was rather 
 that pride of innate rectitude which keeps its owner 
 from doing a mean, a ^Tong, or a disgraceful action. 
 It was the pride of self-esteem, of self-reliance ; that 
 feeling which says, " I must not do so and so, for I 
 should disgrace myself — those careless-living men 
 around me may do these things, but I am superior 
 to it." Other young men might plunge into the 
 
 I E
 
 74 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 world's follies ; pride, if no better motive, K:ept Oswald 
 Cray from tliem. He could not for very shame have 
 borne a tainted conscience ; he could not have shown 
 a clear outside to the world, open and fearless, know- 
 ing that his heart was foul within. 
 
 He was not proud of his family descent from the 
 Oswalds. Quite the contrary. He found no cause 
 to pride himself on either the Oswalds or the Grays. 
 So far as the Oswalds went, many a hundred times 
 had he wished they were no connections of his. All 
 his life he had received from them nothing but 
 slights ; and slights to a man of Oswald Cray's tem- 
 perament bring the deepest mortification. He knew 
 now how they had treated his mother ; he felt to his 
 very heart how they despised himself If he could 
 have changed his dead grandfather into somebody 
 else, a little less foolish and a great deal less gxand, 
 he had been better pleased. 
 
 But this very isolation from his mother's family 
 had tended to foster his own pride — the mortification 
 wliich it induced had fostered it — ^just as the isolation 
 from his o^ti home, from his father and the second 
 family, had contributed to render him self-reliant. 
 It is not your home darling, bred up in fond de- 
 pendence, sheltered from the world's storms as a 
 hot-house flower, who becomes the self-reliant man,
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 75 
 
 but he who is sent out early to rough it, who has no- 
 body to care for him, or to love him, in all the wide 
 earth. 
 
 Not a more self-reliant man lived than Oswald 
 Cray. He was sure, under God, of himself, of his 
 good conduct ; and I think it is about the best 
 surety that a man or woman can carry with them 
 through life. In moments of doubt, perplexity, diffi- 
 culty, whatever might be its nature, he turned to his 
 own heart and took its counsel — and it never failed 
 him. It was with himself he deliberated ; it was his 
 own good judgment, his right feeling that he called 
 to his aid. He had an honest, upright nature, was 
 strictly honourable : a proud man, if it is the proper 
 sort of pride, nearly always is so. His ambition was 
 great, but not extravagant ; it did not soar him aloft 
 in flights of fancy, vain, generally speaking, as they 
 are absurd. He was determined to rise to the 
 summit of his profession — that of a civil engineer — 
 but he entertained no foolish dreams beyond it. To 
 attain to that, he would use every diligence, every 
 effort, consistent with uprightness and honour ; and 
 dishonourable efforts Oswald Cray would have scorned 
 to use, would have shaken them from him as he shook 
 a summer-day's dust from his shoes. 
 
 He was connected with a firm of high repute in
 
 76 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Parliament Street : Bracknell and Street. Oswald 
 Cray was a partner, but his name did not appear as 
 yet ; and, as you may readily imagine, the lion's share 
 of the profits did not fall to him. In fact, he had 
 entered it very much as his half brother had entered 
 the house of Dr. Davenal — to obtain a footing. For 
 more substantial recompense he was content to wait. 
 Bracknell and Street were engineers to the Hallrag- 
 ham line, and to Oswald Cray had been entrusted 
 its working and management. 
 
 He had said to Lady Oswald, in answer to her 
 reproach of his not calling to see her more frequently, 
 that his time when at Hallingham was much oc- 
 cupied. True, so far : but the chief and real motive 
 which kept him from her house was a sort of sensitive 
 feeling relating to her money. It was not that he 
 dreaded people's saying he was looking after it : he 
 would have scorned that kind of re]3roach : but he 
 did dread lest any degree of intimacy, any pushing of 
 himself in her way, should cause her to leave it to 
 him. I am not sure that you will quite understand 
 this ; understand him or his feeling. None but a 
 man of the nicest honour, who was entrenched, as it 
 were, in his own pride, the pride of rectitude, could 
 have felt this delicacy. He did not want Lady 
 Oswald's money ; he knew that he had no claim upon
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 77 
 
 any of it, no right to it, and he would not put himself 
 in her way more than he could help, even as a passing 
 visitor. Gossipping Hallingham had said, " My lady 
 would be leaving her nest-egg to Mr. Oswald Cray." 
 The gossip had penetrated to Mr. Oswald Cray's ears, 
 and his only notice of it was a haughty gesture of 
 contempt : but in all probability it tended to increase 
 his dislike to go to Lady Oswald's. During these 
 business visits at Hallingham, he sojourned at a re- 
 spectable inn of the old school, a little beyond the 
 town and the Abbey Gardens, called the Apple Tree, 
 and had recently become more intimate with the 
 family of Dr. Davenal. '^ 
 
 Driven forth all his life from his father's home, 
 allowed to enter it but at rare interv^als, and then as 
 a formally-invited guest, it cannot be supposed that 
 Oswald Cray entertained any strong affection for his 
 half-brother and. sisters. Such a state of things 
 would have been unnatural, quite in opposition to 
 ordinary probabilities. It would be wrong to say 
 that they disliked each other ; but there was certainly 
 no love : civil indifference may best express the 
 feeling. Marcus, the eldest child of the second Mrs. 
 Cray, was from three to four years younger than 
 Oswald. It had been better that Mrs. Cray had 
 fostered an affection between these boys, but she did
 
 78 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 just the reverse. She resented the contempt cast on 
 her husband by the Oswalds of Thorndyke; she 
 resented, most unreasonably, the fact that the little 
 money of the first Mrs. Cray should have descended at 
 once to Oswald ; she even resented the child's having 
 taken the distinguishing name : he was Oswald Cray, 
 her son, plain Cray. How worse than foolish this 
 was of her, how wrong, perhaps the woman might yet 
 learn : but altogether it did excite her against Oswald ; 
 and she had kept him aloof from her own children, 
 and encouraged those children to be jealous of him. 
 When the boys" became men, they met often, and 
 were cordial enough with each other ; but there 
 was no feeling of brotherhood, there never could be 
 any. 
 
 For a twelvemonth after Mr. Cray's death, Mrs. 
 Cray remained at the Abbey, and then she left it. 
 It was too expensive a residence for her now — its 
 rent swallowing up half her income. She removed 
 with her daughters to a watering-place in Wales, 
 where, as she fractiously said, she hoped they should 
 ''get along." Marcus, who had qualified for a surgeon, 
 became assistant to Dr. Davenal, and that gentleman 
 at length gave him a small share in the profits. It 
 was not a regularly constituted firm — " Davenal and 
 Cray ; " nothing of the sort. Hallingham knew that
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 79 
 
 lie was admitted a partner so far as receiving a share 
 went ; and tliey knew that that was all. 
 
 He was liked in Hallingham, this young doctor, 
 and Dr. Davenal had done it in kindness, to give him 
 a standing. As the time went on, he would have no 
 doubt a larger and larger share — some time succeed 
 to the whole. He was considered a suitable partner 
 for the doctor ; the Grays of the Abbey had always 
 been looked up to in the town ; and young Cray's 
 skill as a medical man was in the ascendant. Lady 
 Oswald was getting to like him very much, she 
 evinced a desire to patronise him, to push forward 
 liis interests ; and Dr. Davenal was really in hope that 
 she would adopt him as her attendant for every-day 
 calls instead of himself. Mr. Cray could spare the 
 time for these useless visits better than Dr. Davenal. 
 He, Mr. Cray, resided in lodgings in the town, and 
 was growing in its favour daily in a professional point 
 of view : not that he had displayed any unusual skill, 
 but simply that Hallingham gave him credit for pos- 
 sessing it, because they liked him. 
 
 There was a large family of the Davenals, as there 
 was of the Oswalds — speaking, in both cases, of the 
 days gone by, and comprising collateral branches. 
 Years and years ago Surgeon Davenal's had been a 
 noted name in Hallingham ; he had a large practice.
 
 80 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 and he had several children. It is not necessary to 
 speak of all the children. Eichard (the present Dr. 
 Davenal) was the eldest son, and had succeeded to 
 the practice. The two other sons, Walter and John, 
 had chosen to enter the Church, and both, when 
 ordained, had gone out to the West Indies ; one of 
 them became chaplain to the Bishop of Barbadoes, 
 the other obtained a church in the island. Both had 
 married there, and Caroline Davenal was the only- 
 child of Walter, the elder of the two. 
 
 Sara was twelve years old when her cousin Caro- 
 line arrived in England, an orphan ; father and 
 mother were both dead. A poor clergyman in the 
 West Indies, dying young, was not likely to have 
 amassed n.oney, and the little child, Caroline, had 
 literally nothing. Her father wrote an appealing 
 letter to his brother Eichard, on his death-bed, and 
 Eichard Davenal was not one to reject it. 
 
 "She shall be my child henceforth, and Sara's 
 sister," said he, in the warmth of his heart, when the 
 letter and the child arrived at Hallingham. And so 
 she had been. 
 
 But it was by no means so certain that Caroline 
 Davenal would not some time be rich. A very large 
 sum of money was pending in her mother's family, 
 who were West Indians. It had become the subject
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 81 
 
 of dispute, of litigation, and was at length thrown 
 into that formidable court in England — Chancery. 
 Should it be decided in one way, Caroline would 
 derive no benefit ; if in another, she would come 
 in for several thousand pounds. The probabilities 
 were in her favour — but Chancery, as you all know, 
 is a capricious court, and does not hurry itself to in- 
 convenience. 
 
 Upon the death of Dr. Davenal's wife, his sister 
 Bettina came to reside with him, and to rule his 
 children. He had but three — Eichard, Edward, and 
 Sara. There had been others between Edward and 
 Sara, but they died young. Eine lads, those of Dr. 
 Davenal, although they took to plaguing stern Miss 
 Bettina, and aggravatingly called her "Aunt Bett." 
 Eine young men, too, they grew up — well reared, 
 liberally educated. Eichard embraced his father's 
 profession ; for Edward, a commission in the army 
 was purchased, in accordance with his strong wish, 
 and he was now Captain Davenal. 
 
 And Eichard Davenal, the eldest son, where was 
 he ? Ah ! it was a grievous story to look back upon. 
 It had clouded the life of Dr. Davenal, and would 
 cloud it to the end. Eichard was dead, and Dr. 
 Davenal blamed himself as the remote cause. 
 
 When Eichard had completed his studies, and
 
 82 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 passed the College of Surgeons, lie returned to Hal- 
 lingham, and joined his father in practice, as it had 
 been intended that he should. He grew greatly in 
 favour : he promised to be as clever as his father : and 
 Hallingham courted him. He was a man of attract- 
 ive presence, of genial manners, and he mixed a great 
 deal of pleasure with his life of work. Dr. Davenal 
 spoke to him seriously and kindly. He said that too 
 much pleasure did not agree long with work, could 
 not agree with it, and he begged him to be more 
 steady. Eichard laughed, and said he would. A 
 short while, and startling news reached the ears of 
 Dr. Davenal — that Eichard was thinking of marrying 
 one who was undesirable. Eichard, his fine boy, of 
 whom he was so fond and proud, marry her ! It was 
 not against the young lady herself that so much could 
 be urged, but against her connections. They were 
 most objectionable. Dr. Davenal pointed out to 
 Eichard that to wed this girl would be as a blight 
 upon his prospects, a blow to his reputation. Eichard 
 could not be brought to see it. Though not equal to 
 themselves in position, she was respectable, he said ; 
 and her connections had nothing to do with it — he 
 did not marry them, he married her. The feud con- 
 tinued : not an open feud, you understand, but an 
 under-current of opposition, of coolness. Eichard
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 83 
 
 would not give up his project, and Dr. Davenal 
 would not view it with anything but aversion. As 
 to giving his consent, that Dr. Davenal never would ; 
 and Eichard, hitherto dutiful, was not one to go the 
 length of marrying in defiance. 
 
 It was at this time, or a little before it, that the 
 dispute had arisen in Barbadoes touching the money 
 already spoken of. Particulars of it were written to 
 Dr. Davenal by his brother John, explaining also 
 how Caroline's interests w^ere involved. He, the 
 Eeverend John Davenal, said in the same letter 
 that he was anxious to send his two little boys to 
 Europe for their education, and was waiting to find 
 them a fit escort ; he did not care to trust them 
 alone in the ship. As Dr. Davenal read this letter, 
 a sudden thought darted into his mind like a flash 
 of liglitning. What if he sent out Eichard ? Eichard 
 could sift the details about this fortune, could, if 
 expedient, urge Caroline's interests ; he could bring 
 back the two little boys, and — and — the chief 
 thought of all lay behind — it might break off the 
 engagement with the young girl here, Fanny Parrack ! 
 Quite a glow of satisfaction came over Dr. Davenal's 
 face at the thought. 
 
 He sought a conference with his son. He told 
 him that he wished him to take a voyage to Bar-
 
 84 OS^YALD CEAY. 
 
 badoes ; that Caroline's interests required somebody 
 to go out ; that the two little boys had no friend 
 to bring them over. Eichard hesitated. To most 
 young men a visit to the West Indies would be a 
 welcome distraction ; but Eichard Davenal seemed 
 strangely to hold back from it — to shrink from its 
 very mention. Did some mysterious warning of 
 what it would bring forth for him dart unconsciously 
 across his spirit ? Or did he fear that it might in 
 some w^ay lead to his losing the young lady upon 
 whom he had set his heart ? It cannot be known. 
 Certain it was, remembered, oh, how remembered 
 afterwards, that an unaccountable repugnance on 
 Eichard's part did evince itself, and it was only to 
 the persistent urgent persuasion of Dr. Davenal that 
 he at length yielded. He yielded, as it w^ere, under 
 protest, and he said he did, sacrificing his own 
 strong wishes against it to his father's. 
 
 He set sail, and he wrote on his arrival at Bar- 
 badoes, after a fine passage ; and the next letter 
 they received, a fortnight afterwards, was not from 
 him, but from his uncle, the clergyman. Eichard 
 had died of yellow fever. 
 
 It seemed to turn the current of Dr. Davenal's 
 life. He blamed himself as the cause : but for his 
 scheming — and in that moment of exaggerated
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 85 
 
 feeling, of intense grief, he called it scheming — 
 Eichard, his best beloved son, would be still by his 
 side to bless him. He had never been a scheming 
 man, but an open and straightforward one ; and 
 never, so long as he lived, would he scheme again. 
 In his unhappiness, he began to reproach himself 
 for having needlessly opposed Eichard's marriage — 
 to believe that he might have done worse than in 
 marrying Fanny Parrack. He sent for her, and he 
 found her a pretty, modest, gentle girl, and his re- 
 pentance heaped itself upon him fourfold. He in- 
 formed her very kindly and considerately of the 
 unhappy fact of Eichard's death, and he told her 
 that should any memento be found left for her 
 amidst Eichard's effects when they arrived — any 
 letter, no matter what, it should be given to her. 
 
 But that death had changed Dr. Davenal into an 
 old man ; in the two years which had elapsed since, 
 he had aged ten, both in looks and constitution. 'No 
 wonder that a spasm of pain came over his face when 
 Mr. Cray asked him whether he should forbid Caroline 
 to him. You can understand his answer now : " So 
 long as I live, I shall never * forbid ' a marriage to 
 any over whom I hold control :" and you can under- 
 stand the anguish of the tone in which it was spoken. 
 
 And that ends the chapter of retrospect.
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 neal's curiosity. 
 
 They sat around the dinner table ; Dr. Davenal, Miss 
 Bettina, Sara, and Caroline. It was an unusually 
 silent table. Dr. Davenal could not digest the de- 
 mand of Mr. Cray for Caroline ; Caroline was conscious 
 and timid ; Sara scented something not altogether 
 comfortable in the air, and did not raise her eyes from 
 her plate ; and it was one of the unusually deaf days 
 of Miss Bettina. 
 
 Neal moved about noiselessly. Being a treasure 
 of a servant, of course he always did move noiselessly. 
 Quite an artistic performance was Neal's waiting ; in 
 his own person he did the waiting of three ; and so 
 tranquilly assiduous was his mode of accomplishing 
 it, so perfect indeed were Neal's ways in the house- 
 hold, that Miss Bettina rarely let a day pass without 
 sounding his praise. 
 
 Strange to say, the doctor did not like him. Why 
 it was, or how it was, he could not tell, but he had
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 87 
 
 never taken heartily to XeaL So strong was the 
 feeling, that it may almost be said he hated Xeal ; 
 and yet the man fulfilled all his duties so well that 
 there was no fault to be found with him, no excuse 
 invented for discharging him. The doctor's last 
 indoor man had not been anything like so efficient a 
 servant as Neal, was not half so fine a gentleman, had 
 ten faults where ISTeal did not appear to have one. 
 But the doctor had liked Mm, good rough honest old 
 Giles, had kept him for many years, and only parted 
 with him when he got too old to work. Then ISTeal 
 presented himself. Neal had once lived with Lady 
 Oswald ; he had been groom of the chambers at 
 Thomdyke in Sir John's time, and Lady Oswald kept 
 him for a twelvemonth after Sir John's death, and 
 nearly cried when she parted with him ; but Neal re- 
 fused point-blank to go out with the carriage, and Lady 
 Oswald did not wish to keep on three men-serv^ants. 
 Neal found "a place in London, and they lost sight of 
 liim for some years ; but he made his appearance 
 at Lady Oswald's again one day — having come down 
 by the new railroad to see what change it had made 
 in the old place, and to pay his respects to my lady. 
 My lady was gratified by the attention, and inquired 
 what he was doing. He had left his situation, he 
 answered, and he had some thoughts of trying for one
 
 88 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 in tlie country ; my lady was aware, no doubt, how 
 close and smoky London was, and lie found that it 
 had told upon his health ; if he could hear of a quiet 
 place in the country he believed he might be induced 
 to take it, however disadvantageous it might be to 
 him in a pecuniary point of view. Did my lady 
 happen to know of one ? My lady did happen to 
 know of one : Dr. Davenal's, who was then parting 
 with old Giles. She thought it would be the very 
 place for l^eal ; Neal the very man for the place ; and 
 in the propensity for managing other people's business, 
 which was as strong upon Lady Oswald as it is upon 
 many more of us, she ordered her carriage and drove 
 to Dr. Davenal's, and never left him until he had 
 promised Neal the situation. 
 
 In good truth. Dr. Davenal deemed that Neal 
 would suit him very well, provided he could bring 
 liis notions down to the place ; and that, as Lady 
 Oswald said, Xeal intended to do. But to be groom 
 of the chambers to a nobleman who kept his score or 
 so of servants (for that was understood in the town to 
 have been Neal's situation), and to be sole indoor 
 man-servant to a doctor, keeping three maids only 
 besides, and the coachman in the stables, would be a 
 wide gulf of difference. Xeal, however, accepted the 
 place, and Dr. Davenal took him on the recom-
 
 OSWALD CRxVY. 89 
 
 mendation of Lady Oswald, without referring to the 
 nobleman in town. 
 
 But even in the very preliminary interview when 
 the engagement was made, Dr. Davenal felt a dislike 
 steal over him for the man. Instinct would have 
 prompted him to say, *' You will not suit me ; " reason 
 overpowered it, and whispered, " He will prove an 
 excellent servant ; " and Dr. Davenal engaged him. 
 That was just before Kichard went out to Barbadoes, 
 and ever since then the doctor had been saying to 
 himself how full of prejudice was his dislike, con- 
 sidering the excellent servant that N'eal proved to be. 
 But he could not overget the prejudice. 
 
 •Neal cleared the table when the dinner was over, 
 and placed the dessert upon it. Dr. Davenal did not 
 care for dessert ; deemed it waste of time to sit at it ; 
 waste of eating to partake of it : but Miss Bettina, 
 who favoured most of the customs and fashions of 
 lier girlhood, would as soon have thought of dispens- 
 ing with her dinner. Dr. Davenal generally with- 
 drew with the cloth ; sometimes, if not busy, he 
 stayed a few minutes to chat with his daughter and 
 Caroline ; but calls on his time and services were 
 made after dinner as well as before it. 
 
 On this day he did not leave his place. He sat 
 at the foot of the large table, Miss Davenal opposite 
 I E 2
 
 90 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 him at its head, the young ladies between them, one 
 on each side. Interrupted by Lady Oswald in the 
 afternoon, he had not yet spoken to- Caroline ; and 
 that he was preparing to do now. 
 
 He drew his chair near to her, and began in a 
 low tone. Sara rose soon, and quitted the room ; 
 Miss Davenal was deaf ; they were, so to say, alone. 
 
 *' My dear, Mr. Cray is not the man I would have 
 preferred to choose for you. Are you aware how very 
 small is the income he derives from his partnership 
 with me ?" 
 
 Caroline caught up the glistening damask dessert 
 napkin, and began pulling out the threads of its fringe 
 '' His prospects are very fair. Uncle Kichard." 
 
 ''Fair enough, insomuch as that he may enjoy 
 the whole of this practice in time. But that time 
 may be long in coming, Caroline ; twenty years 
 hence, for all we know. I shall be but seventy then, 
 and my father at seventy was as good a man as I am 
 now." 
 
 Her fingers pulled nervously at the fringe, and 
 she did not raise her eyes. " I hope you will live 
 much longer than that, Uncle Eichard." 
 
 " So long as I live, Caroline, and retain my health 
 and strength, so long shall I pursue my practice and 
 take its largest share of profits. Mr. Cray understood
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 91 
 
 that perfectly when I admitted him to a small share 
 as a partner. I did it for his sake, to give him a 
 standing. I had no intention of taking a partner ; I 
 wished only for an assistant ; but out of regard to his 
 prospects, to give him a footing, 1 say, I let him have 
 a trifling share, suffered it to be known in Halling- 
 liam that he was made a partner of by Dr. Davenal. 
 He has but two hundred a year from me/' 
 
 " It does not cost much to live," said Caroline. 
 " We need not keep many servants." 
 
 Dr. Davenal paused, feeling that she was hope- 
 lessly inexperienced. 
 
 " My dear, what do you supoose it costs us to live 
 as we do ? — here, in this house V 
 
 " Ever so much," was Caroline's lucid answer. 
 
 "It costs me something like twelve hundred a 
 year, Caroline, and I have no house-rent to pay." 
 
 She did not answer. Miss Davenal' s sharp eyes 
 caught sight of Caroline's damaging fingers, and she 
 called out to know what she was doing with the des- 
 sert napkin, Caroline laid it on the table beside her 
 plate. 
 
 "I cannot afford to increase Mr. Cray's salary 
 very much," continued Dr. Davenal. "To reduce 
 my own style of living I do not feel inclined, and 
 Edward draws largely upon me. Extravagant chaps.
 
 92 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 are those young officers!" added the doctor, falling 
 into abstraction. "There's not one of them, as I be- 
 lieve, makes his pay suffice." 
 
 He paused. Caroline took up a biscuit and began 
 crumbling it on her plate. 
 
 " The very utmost that I could afford to give Mm 
 would be four hundred per annum," resumed Dr. 
 Davenal : " and I believe that I shall inconvenience 
 myself to do this. But that's not it. There" 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Eichard, it is ample. Four hundred 
 a year ! We could not spend it." 
 
 He shook his head at the impulsive interruption ; 
 at its unconscious ignorance. " Caroline, I was going 
 to say that the mere income is not all the question. 
 If you marry Mr. Cray, he can make no settlement 
 upon you ; more than that, he has no home, no furni- 
 ture. I think he has been precipitate ; inconsiderately 
 so : few men would ask a young lady to be their wife 
 until they had a house to take her to ; or money in 
 hand to procure one." 
 
 Caroline's eyes filled with tears. She had hard 
 work to keep them from dropping. 
 
 "Carine," he said, caressingly, "is it quite irre- 
 vocalic, this attachment?" 
 
 The tears went down on the crumbled biscuit. 
 She murmured some words which the doctor but
 
 OSWALD CRAY. - 93 
 
 imperfectly caught ; only just sufficiently so to gather 
 that it ivas irrevocable — or that at any rate the young 
 lady thought so. He sighed. 
 
 " Listen to me, child. I should never attempt to 
 oppose your inclinations ; I should not think of for- 
 bidding any marriage that you had set your heart 
 upon. If you have fixed on Mr. Cray, or he on you — 
 it comes to the same — I will not set my will against 
 it. But one thing I must urge upon you both — to 
 wait.'' 
 
 " Do you dislike Mr. Cray, Uncle Pdchard ? " 
 
 " Dislike him ! no, child. Have I not made him 
 my partner ? I like him personally very much. I 
 don't know whether he has much stability," continued 
 the doctor, in a musing tone, as though he were 
 debating the question with himself. " But let that 
 pass. My objection to him for you, Caroline, is 
 chiefly on a pecuniary score." 
 
 " I am sure we shaU have enough," she answered, 
 in a lower tone. 
 
 " If I give my consent. Carry, I shall give it 
 under protest ; and make a bargain with you at the 
 same time." 
 
 Caroline lifted her eyes. His voice had turned 
 to a jesting one. 
 
 " WhdX protest ? — what bargain ?" she asked.
 
 94 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 '' That I give tlie consent in opposition to my 
 better judgment. The bargain is, that when you 
 find you have married imprudently and cannot 
 make both ends meet, you don't turn round and 
 blame me." 
 
 She bent her eyes with a smile and shook her 
 head in answer, and began twisting the chain that 
 lay upon her fair neck, the bracelets on her pretty 
 arms. She wore the same rich dress that she had 
 worn in the afternoon, as did Sara ; but the high 
 bodies had been exchanged for low ones, the custom 
 for dinner at Dr. Davenal's. 
 
 " I will not withhold my consent. But," he 
 added, his tone changing to the utmost serious- 
 ness, " I shall recommend you both to wait. To 
 wait at least a year or two. You are very j^oung, 
 only twenty." 
 
 '' I am twenty-one, Uncle Eichard," she cried 
 out. "It is Sara who is only twenty." 
 
 He smiled at the eagerness. One year seems so 
 much to the young. 
 
 " Twenty-one, then : since last week, I believe. 
 And Mark is three or four years older. You can 
 well afford to wait. A year or two's time may 
 make a wonderful difference in the position of 
 affairs. Your share of that disputed property may
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 95 
 
 have come to you, rendering a settlement upon you 
 feasible ; and Mark, if he chooses to be saving, may 
 have got chairs and tables together. Perhaps I may 
 increase his share at once to help him do it." 
 
 " Would you be so kind as enlighten me as to 
 the topic of your conversation with Caroline, Dr. 
 Davenal V 
 
 The interruption came from Miss Bettina. Deaf 
 as she was, it was impossible for her not to perceive 
 that some subject of unusual moment was being 
 discussed, and nothing annoyed her more than to 
 fancy she was purposely kept in the dark. For the 
 last five minutes she had sat ominously upright in 
 lier chair. Very upright she always did sit, at all 
 times and seasons ; but in moments of displeasure 
 this stiff uprightness was unpleasantly perceptible. 
 Dr. Davenal rose from his seat and walked towards 
 her, bending his face a little. He had a dislike to 
 talk to her on her very deaf days : it made him 
 hoarse for hours afterwards. 
 
 " Caroline wants to be married, Bettina." 
 
 Miss Bettina did catch the right words this time, 
 but she doubted it. She had not yet learnt to look 
 upon Caroline as aught but a child. Could the 
 world have gone round in accordance with the ideas 
 of Miss Bettina, nobody with any regard to propriety
 
 96 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 would have married in it until the age of thirty was 
 past. Her cold grey eyes and her mouth gradually 
 opened as she looked from her brother to her niece, 
 from her niece to her brother. 
 
 " Wants to be what, did you say ?" 
 
 ''• To be married, Aunt Bett," cried out the doctor. 
 " It's the fashion, it seems, with the young folks now- 
 a-days ! You were not in so great a hurry when you 
 were young." 
 
 The doctor spoke in no covert spirit of joking — 
 as a stranger might have supposed. Miss Davenal 
 being Miss Davenal still. Bettina Davenal had had 
 her romance in life. In her young days, when she 
 was not much older than Caroline, a poor curate 
 had sought to make her his wife. She was greatly 
 attached to him, but he was very, very poor, and 
 prudence said, " Wait until better times shall come 
 for him." Miss Bettina's father and mother were 
 alive then ; the latter a great invalid, and that also 
 weighed with her, for in her duty and affection she 
 did not like to leave her home. Ay, cold and 
 unsympathising as she appeared to be now, Bettina 
 Davenal had once been a warm, loving girl, an 
 affectionate daughter. And so, by her own fiat, 
 she waited and waited, and in her thirtieth year 
 that poor curate, never promoted to be a richer one.
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 97 
 
 had died — had died of bad air, and hard ^York, and 
 poor nourishment. His duties were cast in the 
 midst of one of our worst metropolitan localities ; 
 and they were heav}^, and his stipend was small. 
 From that time Bettina Davenal's disposition had 
 changed ; she grew cold, formal, hard : repentance, 
 it was suspected, was ever upon her, that she had 
 not risked the prudence and saved his life. Her 
 own fortune, added to what he earned, would at least 
 have kept him from the ills of poverty. 
 
 " Who wants to marry her V questioned Miss 
 Davenal, when she could take her condemning eyes 
 away from Caroline. 
 
 « :^rark Cray." 
 
 The words seemed to mollify Miss Davenal in a 
 slight degree, and her head relaxed a very little 
 from its uprightness. "She might do worso, Eichard. 
 He is a good man, and I dare say he is making 
 money. Those civil engineers get on well." 
 
 *' I said 3farJc Cray, Aunt Bett," repeated the doctor. 
 
 " Mark ! ITe won't do. He is only a boy. He 
 has got neither house nor money." 
 
 " Just what I say," said the doctor. " T tell her 
 they must wait." 
 
 " Mad ! to be sure they must be mad, both of 
 them," complaisantly acquiesced Miss Davenal. 
 I F
 
 98 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " Wait, I said, Bettina," roared the doctor. 
 
 " You need not rave at me, Eicliard. I am not as 
 deaf as a post. Who says anything about ' fate 1 ' 
 Fate, indeed ! don't talk of fate to me. Where's 
 your common sense gone ? " 
 
 "Wait, I said, Aunt Bett ! Wa-a-a-it ! I tell 
 them they must wait." 
 
 « No," said Aunt Bett. " Better break it off." 
 
 " I don't think they will," returned the doctor. 
 
 Miss Bettina turned her eyes on Caroline. That 
 young lady, left to herself, had pretty nearly done for 
 the damask napkin. She dreaded but one person in 
 the world, and that was stern' Aunt Bettina. Miss 
 Bettina rose in her slow stately fashion, and turned 
 Caroline's drooping face towards her. 
 
 " What in the world has put it into your head to 
 think of Mark Cray?" 
 
 " I didn't think of him before he thought of me," 
 was poor Caroline's excuse, which, as a matter of 
 course, Miss Davenal did not catch. 
 
 " Has it ever occurred to you to reflect, Caroline, 
 how very serious a step is that of settlement in life ?" 
 
 " We shall get along, Aunt Bettina." 
 
 " I'll not get along," exclaimed Miss Bettina, her 
 face darkening. " I attempt to say a little word to 
 you for your good, for your own interest, and you
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 99 
 
 tell me to ' get along ! ' How dare you, Caroline 
 Davenal?" 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Bettina ! I said we should get along." 
 
 " I don't know that you would get along if you 
 married Mark Cray. I don't like Mark Cray. I 
 did not think" 
 
 " Why don't you like him, aunt ?" 
 
 " I don't know," replied Miss Bettina. " He is 
 too light and careless. I did not think it a wise 
 step of your uncle's to take him into partnership ; 
 but it was not my province to interfere. The Crays 
 brought it to nothing, you know. Lived like princes 
 for a few years, and when affairs came to be looked 
 into on Mr. Cray's death, the money was gone." 
 
 " That was not ^Mark's fault," returned Caroline, 
 indignantly. " It ought to be no reason for your dis- 
 liking him^ Aunt Bettina." 
 
 " It gives one prejudices, you see. He may be 
 bringing it to the same in his own case before his 
 life's over." 
 
 '*You might as well say the same of Oswald," 
 resentfully spoke Caroline. 
 
 " No ; Oswald's different. He is worth a thou- 
 sand of Mark. Don't think of Mark, Caroline. You 
 might do so much better : better in all ways." 
 
 " I don't care to do better," was the rebellious
 
 100 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 answer. And then, half-frightened, at it, repenting 
 of its insolence, poor Caroline burst into tears. She 
 felt very indignant at the disparagement of Mark. 
 Fortunately for her, Miss Davenal mistook the words. 
 
 " We don't care that you should do better ! Of 
 course we care. What are you thinking of, child ? 
 Your uncle studies your interests as much as he would 
 study Sara's." 
 
 " More ! " impulsively interrupted the doctor, who 
 was pacing the room, his hands under his coat-tails. 
 " I might feel less scrupulous in opposing Sara's 
 inclination.'' 
 
 "You hear, Caroline! The doctor opposes this 
 inclination of yours ! " 
 
 Caroline cast a look to him, a sort of helpless 
 appeal : not only that he would oiot oppose it, but 
 that he would set right Miss Davenal. 
 
 '* I don't oppose it, Bettina : I don't go so far as 
 that. I recommend them to wait. In a year or 
 two" 
 
 A loud knock at the hall-door startled Dr. 
 DavenaL Knocks there were pretty frequent — ^loud 
 ones too ; but this was loud and long as a peal of 
 thunder. And it startled somebody besides the 
 doctor.
 
 CHAPTER VIT. 
 
 AN INTERRUPTION. 
 
 That somebody was l^eal. Keal's mind was by far 
 too composed a one to be ruffled by any sort of 
 shock, and Neal's nerves were in first-rate order. It 
 happened, however, that Neal was rather unpleasantly 
 near to the front door at that moment, and the sudden 
 sound, so sharp and long, did make him start. 
 
 When Neal removed the dinner things, he placed 
 his plate and glasses in the pantry, and carried the 
 tray with the other articles down to the kitchen. In 
 going up-stairs again he was called to by Watton the 
 upper woman-servant of the family, who was as old 
 as Neal himself, and had lived with them for some 
 years. She was in the apartment opening from the 
 kitchen, a boarded room with a piece of square carpet 
 in the middle ; it was called the housekeeper's room, 
 and was used as a sitting room by the servants when 
 their kitchen work was over for the day. The servants' 
 entrance to the house was on this lower floor ; steps
 
 ,102 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 ascending from it to the outer door in the back 
 garden. 
 
 " Did you call me ?" asked l^eal, looking in. 
 
 ^Yatton had her hands busy papering some jars 
 of jam. She turned round at the question, display- 
 ing a sallow face with quick dark eyes, and pointed 
 with her elbow to a note lying on the table before 
 her. 
 
 ''A note for Miss Sara, ISTeal. It came five 
 minutes ago." 
 
 "Jessy might have brought it up," remarked 
 ]N'eal. " Letters should never be delayed below." 
 
 " Jessy has stepped out," explained Watton. 
 " And I want to get to an end with this jam ; Miss 
 Bettina expected it was done and put away this 
 morning." 
 
 K'eal carried the note up-stairs to his pantry, and 
 there examined it. But beyond the fact that it was 
 superscribed " Miss Sara Davenal," ISTeal could gather 
 no information to gratify his curiosity. The hand- 
 writing was not familiar to him ; the envelope dis- 
 played neither crest nor coat-of-arms. He held it 
 up, but not the most scrutinising eye could detect 
 anything through it ; he gingerly tried the fastening 
 of the envelope, but it would not come apart with- 
 out violence. As he was thus engaged, he heard
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 103 
 
 the dining-room door open, and he peeped out of 
 his pantry. 
 
 It was Miss Sara. She was going iip-stairs to 
 the drawing-room. Neal heard her enter it; and 
 after the lapse of a minute or two, he followed her, 
 bearing the note on a silver waiter. She had shut 
 herself in. Somehow that conference in the dining- 
 room was making her nervous. 
 
 "Who brought it, Neal?" she carelessly asked, 
 taking the note from the waiter. 
 
 " I am unable to say, miss. It came when I was 
 waiting at dinner." 
 
 IsTeal retired, closed the drawing-room door, and 
 descended to his pantry. There he began making 
 preparations for washing his dinner glasses, rather 
 noisy ones for Neal. He put some water into a 
 wooden bowl, rinsed the glasses in it, and turned 
 them down to dry. Having advanced thus far, it 
 probably struck ISTeal that a trifling interlude of 
 recreation might be acceptable. 
 
 He stole cautiously along as far as the dining- 
 room door, and there came to a halt, bending down 
 his head and ear. Neal could calculate his chances 
 as well as any living spy. He could not be dis- 
 turbed unawares by ^liss Sara from the drawing- 
 room or the servants from tlie kitchen ; and his
 
 104 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 sense of lieaiing was so acute, partly by nature, 
 partly by exercise, that no one could approach to 
 open the dining-room door from the inside, without 
 his getting ample warning. Neal had not played his 
 favourite part for long years to be discovered at 
 last. 
 
 There he had remained, listening to anything in 
 the dining-room there might be to hear, until aroused 
 by that strange knock ; so loud, long, and near, that 
 it startled even him. A noiseless glide back to his 
 pantry, a slight clatter there with spoons and forks, 
 and Xeal came forth to answer the summons, with 
 a far fleeter foot than iNeal in general allowed his 
 stately self to put forth, for the knocker had begun 
 again and was knocking perpetually. 
 
 " Is all the town dying V muttered Neal. 
 
 He pulled open the door, and there burst in two 
 fine lads, sending their ringing shout of laughter 
 through the house, and nearly upsetting the man in 
 their wild haste, as they sprang past him into the 
 dining-room, and on Dr. Davenal. Sara, alarmed 
 at the unusual noise, came running down. 
 
 "You rogues!" exclaimed the doctor. "What 
 brings you here to-day?" 
 
 They w^ere too excited to explain very lucidly. 
 One day extra in a schoolboy's holidays, especially
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 105 
 
 at the comnieucement, will turn young heads crazy. 
 The usher who was to take charge of such of the 
 boys whose homes lay this way, had received news 
 that morning of the illness of a relative, and had to 
 leave a day sooner : so they left also. 
 
 "Nothing loth, I'll answer for it," cried Dr. 
 Davenal ; and the boys laughed. 
 
 He placed them both before him, and looked first 
 at one, then at the other, regarding what alteration 
 six months had made. There was a general likeness 
 between them, as regarded eyes, hair, and complexion, 
 but none in features. Richard, the eldest, generally 
 called Dick, was a good-tempered, saucy-looking boy, 
 with a turned-up nose ; Leopold had more delicate 
 features, and seemed less strong. 
 
 " You have both grown," said the doctor ; " but 
 Leo's thin. How do your studies get on, Dick V 
 
 "Oh — middling," acknowledged Dick, a remark- 
 ably candid lad. "Uncle Eichard, I'm the best 
 cricketer in the whole school. There's not one of the 
 fellows can come up to me." 
 
 " The best what, Richard ?" said Miss Bettina, 
 bending her ear to the lad. 
 
 " Cricketer, Aunt Bett," repeated Richard. 
 
 "Good boy! good boy!" said Miss Bettina ap- 
 provingly. " Resolve to be the best scholar always,
 
 106 OSWALD cr.AY. 
 
 and you ivill be the best. You shall have a pot of 
 fresh jam for tea, Dick." 
 
 Dick smothered his laughter. " I am not a good 
 scholar at all, Aunt Bett. " Leo is : but he's a muff 
 at cricket." 
 
 "Not a good scholar!" repeated Miss Bettina, 
 catching those words corrrectly. " Did you not tell 
 me you were the best scholar?" 
 
 " Xo. I said I was the best cricketer," responded 
 Dick. 
 
 " Oh," said Miss Bettina, her face resuming its 
 severity. " That will do you no good, Pdchard.'* 
 
 " Aren't you deafer than before, Aunt Bett?" 
 
 *' Am I what V asked Miss Bettina. ''Darker I I 
 never was dark yet. Not one of all the Davenal 
 family had a skin as fair as mine. What put that 
 fancy into your head. Master Eichard ?" 
 
 " I said deafer, Aunt Bett," repeated Richard. " I 
 am sure you are just as deaf again as you were at 
 Christmas ! Uncle Eichard, we had a boat race 
 yesterday. Lwas second oar." 
 
 " I don't like those boat races," hastily interrupted 
 Caroline. 
 
 " Girls never do," said ^Ir. Eichard, loftily. " As 
 if they'd like to blister their hands with the oars! 
 Look at mine."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 107 
 
 He extended his right hand, palm upwards, tri- 
 umphant in blisters. Dr. Davenal spoke. 
 
 "I don't like boat racing for you boys, either, 
 Dick." 
 
 " Oh, it was prime, Uncle Eichard ! One of the 
 boats tipped over, and the fellows got a ducking." 
 
 "That's just it," said Dr. DavenaL "Boats nip' 
 over when you inexperienced young gentlemen least 
 expect it. It has led to loss of life sometimes, 
 Dick." 
 
 "Any muff can scramble out of the water, Uncle 
 Eichard. Some of us fellows can swim like an otter." 
 
 *' And some can't swim at all, I suppose. What 
 did Dr. Keen say when he heard of the boatful going 
 over?" 
 
 Eichard Davenal raised his honest, wide-open 
 eyes to his uncle, some surprise in their depths. 
 " It didn't get to Keen's ears, Uncle Eichard ! He 
 knew nothing of the boat race ; we had it out of 
 bounds. As if Keen wouldn't have stopped it for us, 
 if he had known. He thought we were off to the 
 cricket-field." 
 
 "Well, you must be a nice lot of boys !" cried Dr. 
 Davenal, quaintly. " Does he give a prize for honour ? 
 You'd get it, Dick, if he did." 
 
 Dick laufjhed. " It's the same at all schools,
 
 108 OSWALD CEA.Y. 
 
 Uncle Pdchard. If we let the masters into the secret 
 of all our fun, mighty little of it should we get." 
 
 " I think they ought to be let into the fun that 
 consists in going on the water. There's danger in 
 that." 
 
 " Not a bit of it, Uncle Eichard. It was the 
 j oiliest splash ! The chief trouble was getting the 
 dry things to put on. They had been laid up in the 
 boxes ready to come home with us, and we had to 
 put out no end of stratagem to get at them." 
 
 " A jolly splash, was it ! Were you one of the 
 immersed ones, Dick ?" 
 
 " ISTot I," returned Dick, throwing back his head. 
 "As if we second-desk fellows couldn't manage a 
 boat better than that ! Leo was." 
 
 " How many of you were drowned, Leo V* 
 
 Leo opened his eyes as wide as Dick had pre- 
 viously done. " Droivned, Uncle Eichard ! Not one. 
 We scrambled out as easy as fun. There's no fear 
 of our getting drowned." 
 
 *' No fear at all, as it seems to me," returned the 
 doctor. " But there's danger of it, Leo." 
 
 Leo made no reply. Perhaps he scarcely defined 
 the distinction of the words. Dr. Davenal remained 
 silent for a minute, lost in thought ; then he sat 
 down, and held the two lads in front of him.
 
 OS^VALD CRAY. 109 
 
 " Did either of you ever observe a white house, 
 lying back on a hill, just as you pass the next station 
 to this— Hildon?" 
 
 " I know it," cried out Eichard. " It is old Low's." 
 " Old Low's, if you choose to call him so, but he 
 is not as old as I am, Master Dick. Some people in 
 that neighbourhood called him Squire Low. He is 
 Lady Oswald's landlord. A few years ago, boys, I 
 was sent for to his house ; that very house upon the 
 hill. Mr. Low's mother was living with him then, 
 and I found she was taken ilL I went for several 
 days in succession : sometimes 1 saw Mr. Low's sons, 
 three nice lads, but daring as you two are, and about 
 your present age. One afternoon, — listen, both of you, 
 — I had no sooner got home from Mr. Low's, than I 
 was surprised to see one of his men riding up here at 
 a fierce rate. The railway was not opened then. I 
 feared old Mrs. Low might be worse, and I hastened 
 out to the man myself. He had come galloping 
 all the way, and he asked me to gallop back as 
 quickly" 
 
 *' Old Mrs. Low was dead ! '' cried quick Dick. 
 
 " No, sir, she was not dead. She was no worse 
 than when I left her. Mr. Low's three sons had done 
 just what you tell me you did yesterday. They went 
 upon the river at Hildon in a rowing-boat, and the
 
 110 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 boat upset — tipped over, as you call it ; and the poor 
 boys had not found it so easy to scramble out as 
 you, Leo, and your comrades did. One of them 
 was out, the man said ; he thought the other two 
 were not. So I mounted my own horse and hastened 
 over."„ 
 
 "But what did they want with you, Uncle Eichard? 
 Were there no doctors near ? " 
 
 " Yes. When I got there a doctor was over the 
 lad : but ^Mr. Low had confidence in me, and in his 
 distress he sent for me. It was the youngest who 
 was saved — James." 
 
 " What ! James Low, who goes about in that 
 hand-chair ? " 
 
 ** The very same, Dick. From that hour he has 
 never had the proper use of his limbs. A species 
 of rheumatic affection — we call it so for want of a 
 better name — is upon him perpetually. When the 
 illness and fever that supervened upon the accident 
 were over, and which lasted some weeks, we found 
 his strength did not return to him, and he has re- 
 mained a confirmed invalid. And that was the 
 result of one of those tips over, which you deem so 
 harmless." 
 
 " Will he never get well?" asked Leo. 
 ' " Never, I fear."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. Ill 
 
 " And the two other boys, Uncle Eichard ? Did 
 they scramble out at last?" 
 
 " No, Leo. They were drowned." 
 
 Leo remained silent ; Dick also. Dr. Davenal 
 resumed. 
 
 " Yes, they were drowned. I stood in the room 
 where the coffins rested, side by side, the day before 
 the funeral, Mr. Low with me. He told me how 
 generally obedient his poor boys were, save in that 
 one particular, the going upon the water. He had 
 had some contentions with them upon the point ; he 
 had a great dislike to the water for them — a dread 
 of their venturing on it, for the river at Hildon is 
 dangerous, and the boys were inexperienced. But 
 they were daring-spirited boys who could see no 
 danger in it, and — listen, Dick ! — did not believe 
 there was any. And they thought they'd just risk 
 it for once, and they did so ; and this was the 
 result. I shall never forget their father's sobs as 
 he told me this over the poor cold faces in the 
 coffins." 
 
 The young Davenals had grown sober. 
 
 " My lads, I have told you this little incident — 
 but] I think you must have heard somewhat of it 
 before, for it is known to all Hallingham just as 
 well as it is to me — to prove to you that there is
 
 112 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 danger connected with tlie water, more particularly 
 for inexperienced boys. Where does the school get 
 the boats ?" 
 
 "We hire them," answered Dick. "There's a 
 boat association in the place ; poor men who keep 
 boats, and hire them out to anybody who'll pay." 
 
 ** They should be forbidden to hire them to school- 
 boys of your age. I think I shaU drop a liint to Dr. 
 Keen." 
 
 Dick Davenal grew frightened. "For goodness 
 sake don't do that, Uncle Richard! If the school 
 knew it got to Keen through you, they'd send me and 
 Leo to Coventry." 
 
 "I'U take care you don't get sent to Coventry 
 through me, Dick. But I cannot let you run the 
 liability of this danger." 
 
 " I don't think I'll go on the water again at school. 
 Uncle Eichard," said Leo, who had sat down, and was 
 nursing his leg thoughtfully. 
 
 " I don't much tliink you will," said the doctor. 
 
 Leo continued to nurse his leg. Dick, who had 
 little thought about him, had thrown his arms around 
 Sara's waist, and was whispering to her. Both the 
 lads loved Sara. When they had arrived little 
 strangers from the West Indies, new to the doctor's 
 house and its inmates, new to everything else, they
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 113 
 
 liad taken wonderfully to Sara, and she to them. 
 You do not need to be told that they were the lads 
 whom poor Kichard Davenal was to have escorted 
 over ; and when they came they brought his effects 
 with them. 
 
 F '1
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 A TACIT BARGAIN. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Oswald Cray had dined at his rustic 
 inn, the Apple Tree, and was on his way to pay an 
 evening visit at Dr. Davenal's. In passing along 
 K'ew Street, he encountered his haK-brother, turning 
 hastily out of his lodgings. 
 
 "Were you coming in, Oswald?" asked Marcus, 
 as they shook hands. '' I heard you were down." 
 
 " Not now," replied Oswald. " I am going on to 
 Dr. Davenal's, and I go up again by the night train. 
 My visit here to-day was to Lady Oswald. AVe are 
 going to take a strip of her grounds for sheds, and she 
 does not like it." 
 
 "Not like it!" echoed Mark. "It's worse than 
 that. You should have seen the way she was in this 
 afternoon. It won't hurt the grounds." 
 
 " Not at aU. But she cannot be brought to see 
 that it will not. In point of fact, the sound of it is 
 worse than the reality will be. It does sound ill, I
 
 .OSWALD CPvAY. 115 
 
 confess, — railway-sheds upon one's grounds ! I was 
 in hopes of being the first to break the news to her : 
 so much lies in the telling of a thing ; in the impres- 
 sion first imparted." 
 
 " She said this afternoon that it all lay with you. 
 That you could spare her grounds if you would." 
 
 " I wish it did lie with me : I would do my best 
 to find another spot and spare them. The company 
 have fixed upon the site, Low has given his concur- 
 rence, and there's no more to be said or done. I am 
 very sorry, but it has been no doing of mine. Will 
 you go with me to the doctor's, Mark ?" 
 
 Marcus hesitated, and then said he had rather not 
 call that evening. 
 
 "Why?" asked Oswald. 
 
 ** WeU — the fact is, — I don't see why I may not 
 tell you, — I have been asking the doctor this after- 
 noon for Caroline. He did not give me a positive 
 answer, one way or the other ; and I don't think it 
 will look well to press a visit upon them just now." 
 
 " Oswald Cray's was not a demonstrative coun- 
 tenance : a self-controlled man's rarely is : but cer- 
 tainly it exhibited marked surprise now, and he gazed 
 at his brother inquiringly. 
 
 " You are surely not thinking of marrying V 
 
 « Yes, I am. Why should I not think of it ?"
 
 116 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 "Eut wliat have you to many upon? What 
 means ?" 
 
 "Oh — I must get Dr. Davenal to increase my 
 share. By a word he dropped this afternoon when 
 we were talking of it, T fancy he would do it : would 
 increase it to four hundred a year. We might 
 manage upon that." 
 
 Oswald Cray made no immediate reply. He, the 
 self-reliant man, would have felt both pain and shame 
 at the very thought of marrying upon the help of 
 others. 
 
 "You are thinking it's not enough, Oswald?" 
 
 " It might be enough for prudent people. But I 
 don't think it would be found enough by you and 
 Caroline Davenal. ^lark, I fancy — I shall not offend 
 you ? — I fancy you are not of a j)rudent turn.'^ 
 
 " I don't know that I am. But any man can be 
 prudent when there's a necessity that he should be." 
 
 " It has not always proved so." 
 
 " I see you think me a spendthrift," said Mark, 
 good-humouredly. 
 
 " Not exactly that. I think you could not live 
 upon as small an income as some can. Dr. Davenal 
 gives you, I believe, two hundred a year, and you 
 have been with him six months : my opinion is, 
 Mark, that at the twelvemonth's end you will find
 
 OSWALD CRAY. Il7 
 
 the two hundred has nothing like kept you. You 
 will be looking about for another hundred to pay 
 debts." 
 
 "Are you so particularly saving yourself?" re- 
 torted Mark. 
 
 " That is not the question, Mark ; I am not going 
 to be married," answered Oswald, with a smile. " But 
 I do save." 
 
 " If the doctor will give me four hundred a year 
 to begin with, there's no need to wait." 
 
 " You have no furniture." 
 
 " That's easily ordered," said Mark. 
 
 "Very easily indeed," laughed Oswald. "But 
 there'll be the paying for it." 
 
 " It won't take so much. We shall not set up 
 in a grand way. We can pay by instalments." 
 
 " A bad beginning, Mark." 
 
 Mark rather winced. " Are you going to turn 
 against me, Oswald ? To throw cold water on it ?" 
 
 Oswald Cray looked veiy grave as he answered. 
 Mark was not his own brother, and he could not urge 
 him too much ; but a conviction seated itself in his 
 heart, perhaps not for the first time, that J\Iark had 
 inherited their father's imprudence. 
 
 " These considerations are for you, Mark ; not for 
 me. If I speak of them to you, I do so only in your
 
 118 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 true interest. "We have never been brothers, there- 
 fore I do not presume to give a brother's counsel, — 
 you would deem I had no right to do it. Only be 
 prudent, for your own sake and Caroline's. Good 
 evening, if you will go back." 
 
 Neal admitted Mr. Oswald Cray, and Xeal's face 
 lighted up with the most apparent genuine pleasure 
 at doing it. Xeal was the quintessence of courteous 
 respect to his betters, but an additional respect would 
 show itself in his manner to Mr. Oswald Cray, from 
 the fact possibly that he had served in the Oswald 
 family at Thorndyke, and Mr. Oswald Cray was so 
 near a connection of it. 
 
 Dr. Davenal was then in the garden-parlour with 
 Sara. The noisy boys were regaling themselves with 
 good things in the dining-room, under the president- 
 ship of Miss Bettina. A few moments, and the doctor 
 and Mr. Oswald Cray were deep in the discussion of 
 the proposition that had so moved them ; tlie doctor 
 being the first to speak of it. Sara sat near the window, 
 doing some light work. A fair picture she looked, in 
 her evening dress ; her cheeks somewhat flushed, her 
 neck so fair and white, the gold chain lying on it ; 
 her pretty arms partially hidden by their white lace. 
 Dr. Davenal stood in a musing attitude on the other 
 side of the window, and Mr. Oswald Cray sat between
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 119 
 
 them, a little back, his elbow on the centre table, his 
 chin on his hand. 
 
 " Mark has just told me of it," he observed, in 
 reply to Dr. DavenaL " I met him as I walked here. 
 I was very much surprised." 
 
 " Xot more surprised than I," returned the doctor. 
 
 " At least, surprised that he should have spoken 
 to you so soon." 
 
 " AMiat do you think of it ? " asked the doctor, 
 abruptly. 
 
 " I^ay, sir, it is for you to think," was the reply of 
 Oswald Cray, after a momentary pause. 
 
 " I know — in that sense. My opinion is, that it 
 is exceedingly premature." 
 
 " Well — yes, I confess it appears so to me. I 
 told Mark so. There's one thing. Dr. Davenal — some 
 men get on all the better for marrying early." 
 
 " True : and some all the better for w^aiting. I 
 like those men who have the courage and patience to 
 wait, bearing steadily on to the right moment and 
 working for it. I married very early in life myself, 
 but my circumstances justified it. Where circum- 
 stances do not justify it, a man should w^ait. I don't 
 mean waiting on to an unreasonable time, until the 
 sear and yellow leaf's advancing ; nothing of that : 
 but there's a medium in all things. I am sure you
 
 120 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 would not rush into an imprudent marriage : you'd 
 wait your time." 
 
 A smile parted Oswald Cray's lips. " I am obliged 
 to wait, sir." 
 
 " That is, prudence obliges you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that's it." 
 
 " And I make no doubt your income is a good 
 deal larger than the present one of Mark ? " 
 
 " I believe it is." 
 
 Dr. Davenal stood in silence, twirling his watch 
 chain. " Give me your advice," he said, turning to 
 Mr. Oswald Cray. 
 
 " Dr. Davenal, may I tell you that I would prefer 
 not to give it ? By blood Mark is my half-brother ; 
 but you know the circumstances under which we 
 were reared — that we are, in actual fact, little more 
 than strangers ; and I feel the greatest delicacy in 
 interfering with him in any way. I will do him 
 any good that I can : but I will not give advice 
 regarding him in so momentous a step as this." 
 
 Dr. Davenal understood the feeling, it was a 
 perfectly proper one. "Do you think he has much 
 stability ? — enough to steer him safely through life, 
 clear of shoals and quicksands ?" 
 
 Oswald Cray's opinion was that Mark possessed 
 none. But he was not sure : he had had so little
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 121 
 
 to do with liim. *' Indeed, I cannot speak with 
 certainty," was his answer. " Mark is far more of 
 a stranger to me than he is to yon. Stability some- 
 times comes with years only ; with time and ex- 
 perience." 
 
 " I cannot tell you how surprised I was," re- 
 sumed the doctor, after a pause. " Had Mark come 
 and proposed to marry Bettina, I could not have 
 been more astonished. The fact is, I had somehow 
 got upon the wrong scent." 
 
 " The wrong scent ?" exclaimed Mr. Oswald Cray, 
 looking up. 
 
 " I don't mind telling you, considering how dif- 
 ferent, as it has turned out, was the actual state of 
 things," said Dr. Davenal, with a laugh. " I fancied 
 you were inclined to like Caroline." 
 
 Mr. Oswald Cray's deep-set blue eyes were opened 
 wider than usual in his astonishment. " What caused 
 you to fancy that ? " 
 
 " Upon my word I don't know. Looking back, 
 I think how foolish I must have been. But you 
 see, that idea tended to obscure my view, as to 
 Mark." 
 
 Oswald Cray rose from his seat, and stood by Dr. 
 Davenal, looking from the window. 
 
 " Had it been so, would you have objected to 
 
 I G
 
 122 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 me?" he asked ; and in his voice, jesting though it 
 was, there rang a sound of deep meaning. 
 
 ":N'o, I would not," replied Dr. Davenal. "I 
 wish it had been so. Don't talk of it ; it will put 
 me out of conceit of Mark." 
 
 ]Mr. Oswald Cray laughed, and stole a glance at 
 Sara. Her cheeks were crimson ; her head was bent 
 closer to her work than it need have been." 
 
 At that moment Dr. Davenal's carriage was heard 
 coming up the side lane, Eoger's head and shoulders 
 just visible over the garden wall. Dr. Davenal gave 
 the man a nod as he passed, as much as to say he 
 should be out immediately, and retreated into the 
 room. It had broken the thread of the discourse. 
 
 "You came down in answer to Lady Oswald's 
 message," he observed. '' She said she had sent for 
 you." 
 
 "ISTot in answer to the message. I came away 
 before it reached London : at any rate before it 
 reached me." 
 
 " Lady Oswald's in a fine way. I supj)ose nothing 
 can be done?" 
 
 " ]N"othing at all. It is unfortunate that her 
 grounds abut just on that part of the line," 
 
 " She will never stop in the house." 
 
 " You see, the worst is, that she has just entered
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 123 
 
 upon the third term of her lease. She took it for 
 seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years. I am not sure, 
 however, that Mr. Low, under the circumstances, 
 could oppose her depart " — 
 
 " Uncle Eichard, the carriage is come round to 
 the door. How are you, Mr. Oswald Cray ? " 
 
 The interruption came from the boys. Both had 
 rushed in without any regard to noise ; or rather to 
 the avoidance of it. Mr. Oswald Cray shook hands 
 with them, and the doctor turned to shake hands with 
 liim. 
 
 " I have to see a patient or two to-night. A 
 poor country-woman's son is ill, and I promised her 
 to go over this evening if possible. Perhaps you'll 
 be here when I return. Bettina and the girls will 
 give you some tea." 
 
 He hurried out ; and the boys after him, clamour- 
 ously enough. During their holidays. Dr. Davenal 
 could rarely get into his carriage without those two 
 dancing attendance round it, like a bodyguard of 
 jumping savages. Mr. Oswald Cray turned to Sara, 
 who had risen also, and stood before her. 
 
 "Just one moment, Sara, for a single question. 
 Did you fall into the misapprehension that I was 
 growing attached to your cousin ?" 
 
 Her manner grew shrinkingly timid ; her eye-
 
 124 OSWALD CPvAY. 
 
 laslies were never raised from her hot cheeks. It 
 seemed that she would have spoken, for her lips 
 parted ; but there came no sound from them. 
 
 " Nay, but you must answer me," he rejoined, 
 some agitation distinguishable in his tone. "Did 
 you do me the injustice to suppose I had any 
 thought of Caroline ?" 
 
 '* Xo. no." 
 
 He drew a deep breath, as if the words relieved 
 him, took her hand in his, and laid his other hand 
 upon it, very seriously. 
 
 " It was well to ask : but I did not think you 
 could so have mistaken me. Sara ! I am not an im- 
 prudent man, as I fear Mark is ; I could not, in jus- 
 tice to the woman whom I wish to make my wife, ask 
 her to leave her home of comfort until I can sur- 
 round her with one somewhat equivalent to it. I 
 think — I hope — that another year may accomplish 
 this. Meanwhile — you will not misunderstand me, 
 or the motives of my silence ?'* 
 
 She lifted her eyes to his face to speak : they 
 were swimming in tears : lifted them in her earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 " I shall never misunderstand you, Oswald." 
 
 And Mr. Oswald Cray, for the first time in his 
 life, bent his lips on hers to seal the tacit bargain.
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 EDWARD DAYEXAL. 
 
 It was a charming evening in the month of October. 
 The heat of summer was over, the cool calm autumn 
 reigned in all its loveliness. Never had the sun set 
 more brilliantly than it was setting now ; never did 
 it give token of a finer day for the morrow ; and that 
 morrow was to be Caroline Davenal's wedding-day. 
 
 Persuasion and promises had proved stronger than 
 Dr. Davenal and prudence, and he had consented to 
 the early marriage, it may be said reluctantly. He 
 had urged upon them the verb to wait : but neither 
 of them appeared inclined to conjugate it : Caroline 
 especially, strange as it may seem to have to say it, 
 had turned a deaf ear. So the doctor had yielded, 
 and the plans and projects for the carrpng the wed- 
 ding out were set on foot. 
 
 Dr. Davenal had behaved generously. He in- 
 creased Mark Cra}^s share to four liundred a year, 
 and he gave them a cheque for three hundred pounds
 
 126 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 for furniture. " You must be content to have things 
 at the beginning in a plain way, if you must be in a 
 hurry," he said to them ; " when you get on you can 
 add costly furniture by degrees." Miss Bettina would 
 not give anything. ISTot a penny-piece. " No," she 
 said to Caroline, " you are flying in the face of wiser 
 heads than yours, and I will not encourage it. If 
 you don't mind, you'll come to grief" 
 
 Caroline laughed at the " coming to grief" Per- 
 haps not without cause. Were they but commonly 
 prudent there would be little fear of it. Four hun- 
 dred a year to begin upon, and a great deal more in 
 prospective, w^as what many and many a couple begin- 
 ning life might have envied. Even Dr. Davenal began 
 to think he had been over cautious. It might have 
 been better to wait a year or two, but they would do 
 well as it was, if they chose. If they chose ! it all lay 
 in that. Perhaps what made people think of impru- 
 dence in their case w^as, that both had been reared to 
 enjoy a much larger income. 
 
 Those prudential fears and scruples were over, 
 however ; they belonged to the past ; nobody retained 
 them in the actual face of preparation. When Mark 
 Cray was looking out for a house, the abbey, yet un- 
 tenanted, occurred to him. It had been his father's 
 residence ; it carried a certain weight of position with
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 127 
 
 it ; and lie thought it would be well that it should be 
 his. Dr. Davenal acquiesced : it was certainly rather 
 farther from his own residence than was convenient ; 
 and it was at the opposite end of the town ; but that 
 fact might have its advantages as well as its disad- 
 vantages : and Mark took the abbey at a yearly 
 rental. 
 
 How busy they had been, furnishing it and 
 getting the wedding clothes ready, they alone could 
 tell ! In this bustle, in the satisfaction of buying the 
 new furniture, and settling it in its appointed places, 
 the old prudent objections, I say, were lost sight of ; 
 completely forgotten. Miss Bettina thawed so far as 
 to go down two whole days to the abbey, and super- 
 intend ; and she read Caroline lessons on domestic 
 management and economy from morning until night. 
 
 Oswald Cray had delicately placed a fifty-pound 
 note in his brother's hands. " Present-giving at these 
 times seems to be the order of the day, Mark," he 
 carelessly said. "If you and Caroline will choose 
 something for yourselves, and save me the trouble, I 
 shall be glad. You know more about dressing-cases 
 and work-boxes than I do." Altogether, the abbey, 
 — ^what with the purchased furniture, and a few pretty 
 things that went down out of Dr. Davenal's house, 
 — was quite sufficiently weU set up.
 
 128 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 And now it was the evening preceding the wed- 
 ding, and the house was in a commotion of prepara- 
 tion. Servants were running hither and thither ; 
 Miss Bettina, with her sharp voice and her deaf 
 ears, was everywhere, creating no end of mistakes ; 
 the breakfast-table was being laid out ; Sara was 
 quietly helping Jessy to pack her cousin's travelling 
 trunk ; and Caroline, useless as usual, was going into 
 ecstasies over a present which had just come in. 
 
 It was from Lady Oswald. A handsome tea and 
 coffee-pot with their stands, sugar basin and cream 
 jug, all of solid silver. Caroline ran round the 
 house to get admirers to view it, and ran into the 
 room of Dr. Davenal. 
 
 JSTeal was coming out as she entered, a waiter in 
 his hand, therefore it was evident he had been bear- 
 ing something to his master. Dr. Davenal stood 
 before the window looking at an unopened note. 
 
 '' uncle, do come and see ! It is the best 
 present I have had : a silver tea-service. I did not 
 expect anything like it from Lady Oswald.'' 
 
 " Presently, child. All in good time." 
 
 He laid dovm. the note on the table, as he spoke, 
 not having opened it. Caroline thought his tone and 
 countenance were alike sad. 
 
 " Has anything vexed you, L^ncle Eichard ?"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 129 
 
 " A little, Carine. When one waits for the sight 
 of a clear face, and the hours go by in expectation, 
 hour after hour, from the opening of the day to its 
 close, the disappointment brings a chill." 
 
 Caroline wondered. She did not understand that 
 longing waiting yet. "Do you allude to Edward, 
 Uncle Ptichard?" 
 
 Whom else should he allude to ? Since Eichard's 
 death, Edward Davenal had grown dearer than ever 
 son did to father. Dr. Davenal could willingly have 
 laid down his life for him, and thought it no sacrifice. 
 Ah ! if these sons and daughters could but realise 
 this precious love that is lavished on them in all its 
 strange intensity ! 
 
 " Aimt Bettina's vexed that he is not here. She 
 says it will be putting the dinner off." 
 
 "We are too impatient, Caroline. I daresay he could 
 not get here sooner. Here's Mark," added the doctor. 
 
 Dr. Davenal's carriage was drawing up to the gate. 
 The doctor had despatched Mark in it that afternoon 
 to see a country patient : he waited at home for his 
 son. Eoger looked to the house as Mr. Cray got out, 
 wondering whether the carriage was wanted again, or 
 whether he might drive it round to the coach-house. 
 Dr. Davenal raised his hand by way of signal, and 
 was hastening out.
 
 130 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " WonH you come and see my tea-pot and things, 
 Uncle Eichard?" cried Caroline, piteously. 
 
 "When I come back, Carine. The tea-pot can 
 wait." 
 
 "And there's that note on the table/' she said, 
 resenting the slight on the tea-pot. " You have never 
 opened it." 
 
 " That can wait too. I know what it is." 
 
 The doctor walked quickly on, and Caroline fol- 
 lowed him to the front door. Mark was coming in. 
 
 " Is the London train in, Mark ? — did you notice 
 as you came by? There's one due." 
 
 " I did not notice," replied Mark. " I don't much 
 think it is in. I saw no bustle." 
 
 Dr. Davenal stepped into the carriage. "Turn 
 round, Eoger. The railway station." 
 
 The whistle was sounding as they drew near, and 
 Eoger whipped up his steeds. The doctor stepped 
 on to the platform as the train dashed in. He elbowed 
 his way amidst the crowd, trying to peer into eveiy 
 first-class carriage. 
 
 "Edward!" 
 
 "My dear father!" 
 
 Captain Davenal leaped lightly out — an upright, 
 slender man, with the unmistakable look of the soldier ; 
 a dark, handsome face, and a free and ready voice.
 
 ' OSWALD CRAY. 181 
 
 " I have been looking for you all day, Xed." 
 
 "ISTot up here, surely?'' 
 
 Dr. Davenal laughed. " Not likely. I just hap- 
 pened to come up now; so it's all right. You have 
 some luggage, I suppose V 
 
 "A portmanteau. My servant's here." 
 
 '' Good evening, Dr. Davenal. Ah, captain ! how 
 are you ? " 
 
 The salutation came from a passenger who had 
 likewise stepped out of a first-class compartment. 
 They turned to behold Oswald Cray. 
 
 " Why ! you don't mean to say that you have 
 come by this train?" cried Captain Davenal, in his 
 quick manner. 
 
 "Yes I have. And you?" 
 
 " I have come by it, too. Where were our eyes, I 
 wonder?" 
 
 " In our own compartment, I expect," said Oswald 
 Cray. " I was at the end of the train, and did not 
 get out during the journey." 
 
 "Neither did I. The same errand brings us, I 
 suppose — Caroline's wedding ? It 's fine to be Mark 
 Cray ! You and I must wait for our honours : we 
 can't afford these grand doings yet." 
 
 Dr. Davenal looked at his son. "If you can't 
 afford them now, Xed, when are you to afford them ?"
 
 132 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 Captain Davenal's answer was to slirug liis 
 shoulders. " There may come in a great rich ship 
 some clay," he said, with his ready laugh. " Are you 
 going that way, Mr. Oswald Cray? AYe shall see 
 you by and by." 
 
 All the pride and affection of the father shone 
 out in Dr. Davenal's face as he passed through the 
 to^\^l, sitting by the side of his brave son, who was in 
 Eoger's place, and drove. A hundred hats were taken 
 off; a hundred pleased faces greeted them. The 
 doctor remained passive, save for smiles ; but Captain 
 Davenal's gay face was turned from side to side, in 
 answer to the salutations, and he had something else 
 to do besides attending to his horses. 
 
 " Take care, Ned." 
 
 " All right, sir," was the young officer's careless 
 answer. But he escaped the wheel of a meeting 
 carriage by only half an inch ; and Eoger, seated 
 behind, said to himself that the captain had not yet 
 grown out of his randomness. 
 
 He pulled the horses up with a jerk when they 
 arrived, leaped out, and turned to give his hand to his 
 father. N"eal had the door open, and Edward Davenal 
 passed him with a nod and a fleet foot, for he saw his 
 sister's face behind, bright with joyous tears. He 
 kissed them away.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 133 
 
 " Sara, you foolish child ! Keep the tears until I 
 
 igain." 
 
 " ^Vhen will that be, Edward ? " 
 
 " To-morrow evening. Hush ! " he whispered, 
 checking her startled exclamation. " Let me take my 
 own time for telling papa. I know he will be vexed." 
 
 " We thought you would stay a week at least." 
 
 " I wish I could ! Leave is difficult to get at all 
 
 just now, on account of I'll tell you more later, 
 
 Sara." 
 
 Miss Bettina Davenal was at hand, waiting for 
 her greeting. In the old days of his boyhood, she 
 and he were undisguised enemies. The boy was high- 
 spirited and rude to her, ten times worse than poor 
 Eichard : he had been the first to caU her Aunt Bett, 
 and to persist in it, in spite of her angry displeasure. 
 He called it her still. 
 
 " Well, Aunt Bett ! You are looking younger 
 than ever." 
 
 " Are you quite well, Xephew Edward?" 
 
 " In high feather, aunt. And mean to keep so 
 until the wedding's over. When is yours to be, 
 Aunt Bett ?" 
 
 " To-morrow at eleven," was Aunt Bett's uncon- 
 scious answer. " And right glad I shall be when it 
 has taken place."
 
 134 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 The slioiit of laughter vexed Miss Davenal ; she 
 wondered what the mistake was. But the captain 
 turned away, for Caroline was stealing towards 
 them with conscious cheeks, and the new silver 
 tea-pot in her hand. 
 
 " It was unkind of you not to come before, 
 Edward," she said. " Some of my beautiful new 
 dresses are packed up now, and you can't see them." 
 
 " I shan't die of the disappointment. Carry," was 
 the ungallant rejoinder of the captain. " What's 
 that you are carrying ? A trophy ?" 
 
 " It's a tea-pot. It is part of Lady Oswald's 
 present. Hers is the best of all, and I have had 
 so many. Come and look at them : they are laid 
 out in the garden-room." 
 
 " So many tea-pots ?" inquired the captain. 
 
 " Xonsense, Edward ! You know I meant presents." 
 
 He drew something covertly from his pocket, 
 and clasped it on her neck. It was a dazzling 
 necklace. Caroline, losing ornaments excessively, 
 was wild with delight. 
 
 " Edward ! how kind you are ! I never liked 
 you as much as I do now." 
 
 " Candid ! " cried the captain : and Dr. Davenal 
 laughed outright as he waU^ed away to his consulting- 
 room.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 135 
 
 His son followed him. The doctor had taken up 
 the note which he had left on the table, and w^as 
 alDout to open it w^hen something strange in its 
 appearance struck upon his eye. He carried it to 
 the window and looked minutely at its fastening, 
 at the claret-coloured crest stamped in the envelope, 
 that of the Oswald family. 
 
 ■ " Edward," said he, " does it look to you as if this 
 envelope had been tampered with — opened, in fact ?" 
 
 Captain Davenal examined the fastening. It w^as 
 quite daylight still, though less bright than before 
 the sun went down. " There's not a doubt of it, in my 
 opinion," he said, handing the note back to his father. 
 
 "It's very strange," exclaimed the doctor. "Do 
 you know, it has occurred to me lately to think that 
 two or three of my letters have been opened.'' 
 
 "By their appearance?" 
 
 '' By their appearance. But I could not be certain 
 how or when it was done. For aught I know, they 
 might have been reopened by their writers before for- 
 warding them to me. I do feel, however, sure that 
 this one has been tampered with since it lay here. 
 It came by the same messenger that brought Caro- 
 line's present, and Neal brought it in to me. I w^as 
 deep in thought at the time, and I turned it about in 
 my fingers, looking at it, but not opening it. I knew
 
 136 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 'what its contents were — that they concerned a little 
 matter Lady Oswald had to write to me upon — and 
 I did not open it, but went to the station, leaving it 
 on the table. Xow I am fully certain that that ap- 
 pearance of reopening was not on it then." 
 
 " Who can have opened it, then ?" quickly cried 
 Captain Davenal. 
 
 «Neal." 
 
 "I^eal!" 
 
 " Neal — as I suspect." 
 
 " But I thought Neal was so faithful a man — so 
 good a servant altogether ! " 
 
 " An excellent servant, though I have never liked 
 him. And latterly I have suspected the man's truth 
 and honesty. I don't mean his honesty in regard to 
 goods and chattels, but in regard to his own nature. 
 If my letters have been opened, rely upon it, it is he 
 who has done it." 
 
 "Have you spoken to him?" 
 
 " E'o. I shall speak now, though." 
 
 Dr. Davenal rang the bell, and Neal appeared. 
 So calm, so quietly unconcerned ! — not in the least 
 like a man who has just tampered with his master's 
 letters. 
 
 " Come forward, ]N"eal. Shut the door for a 
 minute. When I went out just now I left this note
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 137 
 
 on the table — the one you brought in to me from 
 Lady Oswald's servant. I did not open it before I 
 went out ; — but it looks to me as if it had been 
 opened since, and closed up again." 
 
 Dr. Davenal spoke in a quiet tone. ISTeal, entirely 
 unruffled, save by a slight natural surprise, stepped 
 close up to the table, and looked first at Dr. Davenal 
 and then at the note, which, however, the doctor did 
 not particularly show to him. 
 
 " I should think not, sir. There has been no one 
 here to open it." 
 
 *' That it has been opened I feel certain. Who 
 has been in the room ? " 
 
 " Xot any one, sir," replied JSTeal. " It has not 
 been entered, so far as I know, since you left it." 
 
 There was nothing more to be said, and Dr. 
 Davenal signed to him to go. " I could not accuse 
 him downright," he remarked to his son ; " but enough 
 has been said to put him on his guard not to attempt 
 such a thim:^ ai^ain." 
 
 " He does not look like a guilty man," cried 
 Captain Davenal. "It is next to impossible to suspect 
 ISTeal of such a thing. He is too — too — I was going 
 to say too much of a gentleman," broke off Captaiit 
 Davenal, laughing at his own words. " At any rate, 
 too respectable. His manner betrayed nothing of 
 I g2
 
 138 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 gTiilt — nothing of cognisance of the affiair. I watched 
 him narrowly." 
 
 " True ; it did not. He is an innocent man, ]S"ed, 
 or else a finished hjrpocrite. Of course I may be 
 wrong in my suspicions : honestly to confess it, I 
 have no cause to suspect Neal, beyond the powerful 
 feeling in my mind that he's not to be trusted — a 
 feeling for which I have never been able to account, 
 although it has been upon me since the first day I 
 engaged him." 
 
 " We do take up prejudices without knowing 
 why," remarked Captain DavenaL " I suppose some- 
 times they are false ones. — Here's Neal coming in 
 again." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, for having so positively 
 assured you that no one had been in your room," he 
 said, addressing his master. " I remember now that 
 ^Ir. Cray entered it. I did not think of it, sir, at 
 the moment you questioned me." 
 
 " If he did, he'd not touch the letter," said Dr. 
 Davenal. 
 
 " Certainly not, sir. But I thought it right to 
 come and mention to you that he had been in." 
 
 Xeal withdrew, and Captain Davenal looked at 
 his father. " The man seems quite honest in the 
 matter. I think this is an additional proof of it.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 139 
 
 Had he opened the letter himself he would not have 
 forgotten that another person had been in the room." 
 
 Very soon Neal appeared again. This time it 
 was to say that dinner was served. Dr. Davenal 
 nodded to him to close the door ; he and his son 
 were deep in conversation. 
 
 Ten minutes elapsed before they came out. Miss 
 Bettina fidgeted and grumbled, but it did not bring 
 them ; and when they did come, the doctor had a 
 strange cloud upon his brow. Edward also, or else 
 Sara fancied it ; but he grew merry as tlie dinner 
 advanced, joking and laughing with every one. 
 
 She took the opportunity of speaking to him after 
 dinner. He went out on the lawn at the back to 
 smoke his cigar in the starlight, and Sara stole after 
 him. He threw his arm round her, and they paced 
 the gravel walk. 
 
 " Were you telling papa before dinner that you 
 should have to leave to-morrow ?" she asked. 
 
 " I was telling him worse than that, my little 
 sister." 
 
 ^' Worse?" 
 
 " You loving ones at home will think it so. You 
 will, Sara. And my father — it's a blow to my 
 father." 
 
 Sara Davenal's heart was beating against her side ;
 
 140 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 u thousand improbabilities nislied into her brain 
 '' Tell it me, Edward," she said, very calmly. Some- 
 times, in moments of agitation, she could be calm, 
 almost unnaturally so, outwardly. It is frequently 
 the case with those who feel the deepest. 
 '' The regiment's ordered abroad." 
 " Edward 1" 
 
 Eor a few minutes neither spoke again. Sara's 
 greatest thought was for her father. She seemed to 
 have divined how cruelly Dr. Davenal felt the separa- 
 tion from his sons ; Pdchard dead, Edward in London 
 with Ms regiment. If he had to go abroad to remote 
 countries, thousands of miles away — ^why, almost as 
 good that he had died. They should feel it so. 
 
 " And that explains why I could not get a long 
 leave," he resumed. "There's so much of preparation 
 to be made ; and we officers have to look to every- 
 thing, for the men as well as for ourselves. We sail 
 in a week or two." 
 
 They paced on in silence. Captain Davenal sud- 
 denly looked down at her, and detected tears. 
 
 " Don't grieve, child. I am but a worthless sort 
 of brother, after all — never with you. Perhaps I shall 
 come back a better one." 
 
 " Edward, can't you sell out ?" 
 
 " Sell out !" he exclaimed, in astonishment. " SeU
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 141 
 
 out because we are ordered on active service. You 
 are a brave soldier's sister, Miss Sara Davenal !" 
 
 "Some time ago, when there was a question of 
 tlie regiment's going out, you were to have exchanged 
 into another, and remained at home, Edward. It 
 was just after Richard's death, I remember. Can you 
 not do that now?" 
 
 ''Xo, I cannot. I can neither seU out nor ex- 
 change. It is impossible." 
 
 There was so much grave meaning in his tone, 
 that Sara looked up involuntarily. He laughed at 
 her earnest face. 
 
 " Edward ! must you go ?" 
 
 *' There's no help for it. We go to Malta first. 
 India — as we suppose — afterwards." 
 
 " Papa may be dead before you return." 
 
 " No, no ! I trust not." 
 
 " It will be as thoucjh he had no children 1" she 
 exclaimed, almost passionately, in her love for her 
 father, in her grief. " Eichard dead ; you gone : he 
 will have none left." 
 
 " He will have you, Sara." 
 
 " 1 1 Who am I ?" 
 
 " The best of us. You have given him no grief 
 in all your life ; I and poor Dick have : plenty. It 
 is best as it is, Sara."
 
 142 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 She could scarcely speak for the sobs that were 
 rising. She strove bravely to beat them down, for 
 Sara DavenaFs was an undemonstrative nature, and 
 could not bear that its signs of emotion should be 
 betrayed outwardly. She loved her brother greatly ; 
 even the more, as the doctor did, for the loss of 
 Eichard ; and this going abroad for an indefinite 
 period, perhaps for ever, rang in her ears as the very 
 knell of hope! He might never return : he might 
 go away, as Eichard had, only to die. 
 
 How long they continued to pace that walk 
 underneath the privet-hedge, which skirted and hid 
 the narrow sidepath leading from the house to the 
 stables, Sara scarcely knew. Captain Davenal spoke 
 little, he seemed buried in thought ; Sara could not 
 speak at all, her heart was full. Earely had the 
 night's brilliant stars looked down on a sadness 
 deeper felt than was that of Sara Davenal. 
 
 " You will come down again to take leave of 
 us ?" she asked, after a while. 
 
 " Of course I shall."
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 A TREAT FOR NEAL. 
 
 Xearly four-and-t\yenty hours subsequent to that, 
 Dr. Davenal was pacing the same walk side by side 
 with Lady Oswald. The wedding was over, the guests 
 were gone, and the house, after the state breakfast, 
 had resumed its tranquillity. Of the guests, Lady 
 Oswald had alone remained, with the exception of 
 Mr. Oswald Cray. It was one of those elaborate 
 breakfast-dinners which take hours to eat, and five 
 o'clock had struck ere the last carriage drove from the 
 door. 
 
 Lady Oswald asked for some tea ; Miss Davenal, 
 as great a lover of tea as herseK, partook of it with 
 her. Captain Davenal preferred a cigar, and went 
 into the garden to smoke it : Mr. Oswald Cray ac- 
 companied him, but he never smoked. Both of them 
 were to return to town by the seven o'clock train. 
 
 By and by, the tea over, the rest came out on the 
 lawn to join them — Lady Oswald and Miss Davenal
 
 144 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 in tlieir ricli rustling silks, Sara in her white brides- 
 maid's dress. The open air of the warm, lovely even- 
 ing, was inexpressibly grateful after the feasting and 
 fuss of the day, and they lingered until twilight fell 
 on the earth. ]\Iiss Davenal went in then : but Lady 
 Oswald wrapped her Indian cashmere shawl, worth a 
 hundred guineas Hallingham said, more closely round 
 her, and continued to talk to Dr. Davenal as they 
 paced together the side walk. 
 
 Her chief theme was the one on which you have 
 already heard her descant — that unwelcome project 
 of the railway sheds. It had dropped through for 
 a time. There had been a lull in the storm ever 
 since it was broached in the summer. Lady Oswald 
 complacently believed her remonstrance had found 
 weight with the authorities of the line, to whom she 
 had addressed a long, if not a very temperate letter : 
 but, in point of fact, the commencement of the work 
 had been delayed for some convenience of their own. 
 Only on this very morning a rumour had reached 
 Lady Oswald's ears that it was now to be set about 
 immediately. 
 
 " I am not satisfied with Oswald," she was saying 
 to the doctor. "Did you observe how he avoided 
 the subject at the breakfast-table ? When 1 told him 
 that he midit exercise his influence with the com-
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 145 
 
 pany and prevent it if lie pleased, lie turned it off 
 quietly." 
 
 " I think lie did not care to defend himself pub- 
 licly, or to enter upon the matter/' observed the 
 doctor. "Eely upon it, he would prevent it if he 
 could ; but his power does not extend so far." 
 
 " I know he says it does not," was the observation 
 of Lady Oswald. " Do you think he is true ?" 
 
 " True r' repeated Dr. Davenal, scarcely under- 
 standing in his surprise. " Oswald Cray true 1 Yes, 
 Lady Oswald. Never man lived yet more honestly 
 true than Oswald Cray." 
 
 He looked towards Oswald Cray as he spoke, 
 pacing the broad middle walk with his son and Sara ; 
 at the calm good face with its earnest expression, 
 every line, every feature speaking truth and honour ; 
 and the doctor's judgment re-echoed his words. 
 
 " Yes, Lady Oswald, he is a true man, whatever 
 else he may be." 
 
 " I always deemed him so. But — to protest that 
 he would help me if he could -; and now to let this 
 dreadful threat arise again !" 
 
 " But he cannot prevent its arising," returned the 
 doctor, wishing Lady Oswald would exercise a little 
 common sense in the matter. " He is but a servant 
 of the company, and must carry out their wishes." 
 I u
 
 146 OS^^\LD CEAY. 
 
 "I don't believe it/' peevislily replied Lady 
 Oswald. " He is the engineer to the company ; and 
 it is well known that an engineer does as he pleases, 
 and lays his own plans." 
 
 " He is one of the engineers ; the junior one, it 
 may be said. I suppose you will not forgive me, 
 Lady Oswald, if I point out, that when your interests 
 and the line's are at issue, as in this matter, Oswald 
 Cray, of all others, is forced to obey the former." 
 
 " Was there ever so monstrously wicked a pro- 
 ject formed?" asked Lady Oswald, with some agitation. 
 
 "It is very unfortunate," was the more temperate 
 reply. " I wish they had fixed upon any grounds but 
 yours." 
 
 " I \Yish. they had ! It wilL send me into my 
 grave !" 
 
 Careless words ! spoken, as such words mostly are 
 spoken, unmeaningly. If Lady Oswald could but 
 have known how miserably they were destined to be 
 marked out ! If Dr. Davenal had but foreseen how 
 that marking out would affect all his after life — change, 
 as it were, its current, and that of one who was dear 
 to him I 
 
 " And because that woiTy was not enough, I have 
 had a second to annoy me to-day," resumed Lady 
 Oswald. " Jones gave warning to leave."
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 147 
 
 " Indeed !" returned Dr. Davenal, and tlie tone 
 of Ms voice betrayed Ms concern. He knew liow 
 minor vexations were made troubles of by Lady 
 Oswald ; and the parting witli Jones, lier steady 
 coachman of many years, would be a trouble not 
 much less great than this threatened building of the 
 sheds. 
 
 "AATiy is Jones leaving?" he inquired. 
 
 "Because he does not know when he's well off,'^ 
 was the retort, spoken querulously. "The servants 
 latterly have been all quarrelling together, I find, and 
 Jones says he won't remain. I asked Parkins what 
 she was good for not to stop their quarrelling, and 
 she burst into tears in my face, and said it was not 
 her fault. You are best off, doctor. Your ser^^ants 
 are treasures. Look at Neal !" 
 
 " I don't know that I^eal is much of a treasure," 
 was the doctor's answer. "I'd make him over to 
 your ladyship with all the pleasure in life. Do you 
 feel the chill of the evening air?" 
 
 Lady Oswald looked up at the clear sky, at the 
 evening star, just visible, and said she did not feel 
 the chill yet. 
 
 Dr. Davenal resumed. 
 
 *' I have grown to dislike Neal, Lady Oswald. In 
 strict correctness, however, ^gro^^ni to dislike' is not
 
 148 OSWALD CPvAY. 
 
 tlie best term, for I have disliked him ever since lie 
 lias been with me. He" 
 
 ''Disliked Xeal !" interrupted Lady Oswald, won- 
 dering whether she might trust her ears. " You dis- 
 like Neal ! Whj V 
 
 " I can scarcely tell you why. I don't think I 
 know, myself. But I do very much dislike him ; and 
 the dislike grows upon me." 
 
 " You never mentioned this. I thought you were 
 so satisfied with Xeal." 
 
 " I have not mentioned it. I have felt a sort of 
 repugnance to mention what would appear so un- 
 founded a prejudice. Keal is an efficient servant, 
 and the dislike arose to me without cause, just as 
 instincts do. Latterly, however, I begin to doubt 
 whether Xeal is so desirable a retainer as we have 
 deemed him." 
 
 " In what way do you doubt him ?" 
 
 Dr. Davenal smiled, " A doubt has arisen to me 
 whether he is true — as you have just said by Mr. 
 Oswald Cray. I shall watch the man ; and, now 
 that my suspicions are awakened, detection will be 
 more easy. Should he turn out to be what I fear — a 
 deceitful fellow, worse than worthless — he will be 
 sent out of my house head foremost, at a minute's 
 warning, and get his true character. Lady Oswald,
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 149 
 
 I think I could pardon anything rather than 
 deceit." 
 
 "How angrily you speak!" breathlessly exclaimed 
 Lady Oswald. 
 
 The words recalled him to courtesy. 
 
 " I fear I did ; and I ought to have remembered 
 that he was a respected serv^ant once of Sir John's, 
 that it was you who recommended him to me. You 
 will pardon my warmth, Lady Oswald. To any less 
 close friend than yourself I should not have men- 
 tioned this. The fact is, a most unjustifiable trick 
 was played me yesterday, and it is impossible for me 
 to suspect anybody but Neal. I shall watch him." 
 
 "AMiat trick was it?" asked Lady Oswald. 
 
 Dr. Davenal hesitated before he spoke. " Perhaps 
 it would be scarcely fair to mention it, even to you, 
 Lady Oswald. I am not certain : there's just a loop- 
 hole of possibility. If I find I am ^vrong, I will 
 honestly confess it to you ; if the contrary, you and 
 the world will know what a worthless scamp we have 
 nourished in !N'eal" 
 
 Very agreeable words indeed ! especially to Neal 
 himself, who had the satisfaction of hearing them. 
 Mr. Neal, with his soft tread, was gingerly pacing 
 the narrow path behind the privet-hedge, his steps 
 keeping level with theirs ; he having strolled out to
 
 150 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 take the evening air, and to hear all that he could 
 hear. 
 
 They were interrupted by the approach of Captain 
 Davenal and ]\Ir. Oswald Cray. It was getting to- 
 wards the hour of their departure. Sara came up 
 with them. The doctor laid his hand on his daugh- 
 ter's shoulder, and she walked by his side. 
 
 *' Going ? Nonsense !" said the doctor. " There's 
 no hurry yet." 
 
 "When shall you be down again, Oswald?" asked 
 my lady. 
 
 " I believe very shortly. I must be down 
 
 about these alterations," he had been on the point 
 of saying, but stopped himself in time. There was 
 no cause for bringing up the sore story oftener to her 
 than was necessary. 
 
 *'Will you promise that they shall not build 
 those horrible sheds ?" 
 
 " If it lay with me, I would willingly promise it," 
 was his reply. *' I wish you would believe me, dear 
 Lady Oswald." 
 
 " Of course I have no claim upon you," she 
 fretfully continued. "I know that. It is not my 
 fault, if I am unable to leave my fortune to you — 
 what little I may have to leave. There are others 
 who, in my opinion, have a greater claim upon me."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 151 
 
 He seemed not to understand her. He turned 
 his glance full upon her. "I beg your pardon. 
 A\niat did you say, Lady Oswald ?" 
 
 " Oswald, I have never spoken distinctly to you 
 about my money," she resumed. " I like you very 
 much, and should have been glad to leave some to you : 
 it is natural you should be looking out for it, but" — 
 
 Every line of his pale face was ablaze with pride 
 as he interrupted her ; his voice, calm, low, terribly 
 stern, was ten times more impressive in its truth 
 than one loud and angry could have been. "Allow 
 me to set you right, Lady Oswald. I have never in 
 my life looked for one shilling of money from you : 
 I do not recognise, or believe in, or see any claim 
 I can by possibility have upon it : of the whole 
 world, the Oswalds are those upon whom I could 
 least recognise it — from whom I would the least 
 accept it. I pray your ladyship to understand me in 
 the fullest sense of the words— /rom wlwm I would 
 never accciJt it!' 
 
 Never had he looked so like the Oswalds as he 
 looked then. The red colour came into Sara's cheeks, 
 and a faint sense of dread (did it come as a prophetic 
 warning ?) stole into her heart — that that pride might 
 prove her deadliest enemy ; perhaps his. Lady Os- 
 wald's mood changed, and she laughed.
 
 152 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " You are independent, Oswald." 
 
 " I am self-dependent," was his answer. " A fair 
 field and no favour are all I ask. I believe I can 
 make my way in the world far better than money 
 could make it for me. It is what I mean to try at 
 — and do, Heaven helping me." 
 
 "But you need not have glared at me in that 
 way," she said, relapsing into fretfulness. " I declare 
 I thought it was old Sir Oswald of Thorndyke come 
 out of his grave. My nerves are not strong, and that 
 you know." 
 
 A better feeling came over him, and he held out 
 liis hand to Lady Oswald, his atonmg smile wonder- 
 fully frank and sweet. " Forgive me if anything in 
 my speech or manner has offended you, dear Lady 
 Oswald. But I believe you vexed me more than I 
 have ever been vexed in my life." 
 
 " Well, well ; you shall be as independent as you 
 please, '^ said Lady Oswald. " Let us change the sub- 
 ject. AYhen do you intend to follow Clark's example 
 and marry?" 
 
 "Not until I can afford it better than than 
 
 Mark could, I was going to say," he added, glancing 
 at Dr. Davenal and laughing. 
 
 "You do mean to marry some time, Oswald?" 
 
 " I hope so."
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 153 
 
 The answer was spoken so fervently, that they 
 looked at him in surprise. Sara contrived to draw 
 behind, and began plucking one of the flowers, already 
 closing to the night. He resumed carelessly, as if 
 conscious that his tones had been too earnest for 
 general ears. 
 
 "Men do marry for the most part in this good 
 old-fashioned land of ours, and my turn may come 
 some time. I think our time is nearly up, Davenal." 
 
 The captain took out his watch. " In a minute 
 or two. We can walk it in ten minutes, if we put 
 out our best speed." 
 
 As they went in, Oswald Cray looked round for 
 Sara, and found she had not followed them. He 
 turned back to her. 
 
 '* I must say good-bye to you. Sara ! you are 
 crying !" 
 
 " O no," she answered, brushing away the rebel- 
 lious tears. " It's nothing." 
 
 He took her hand and placed it within his arm, 
 and they advanced slowly to the house. " Will you 
 tell me what the * nothing' is?" he asked in a low 
 tone, which of itself was sufficient to invite confidence. 
 
 " I cannot bear to part with Edward," she 
 answered. "Nothing has been said about it ; but 
 he brought down bad news. They are ordered to
 
 154 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Malta ; and thence, lie thinks, they shall go to India. 
 Edward said he should tell you as you went back to- 
 night." 
 
 It was entire news to him, and he thought how 
 greatly Dr. Davenal must feel it. Few admired 
 that fine young officer, Edward Davenal, more than 
 Oswald Cray. But he had no time to discuss it 
 now, scarcely to say a word of sympathy. 
 
 *' Good-bye !" he whispered, as they halted on the 
 threshold and he turned to press her hand in both of 
 his, bending his face a little down. " Good-bye. 
 And remember." 
 
 " Eemember what ?" she asked. 
 
 ^' That you don't belong quite to yourself now." 
 
 He hastened in, leaving^ Sara standincj there : 
 standing there with the significant words and their 
 meaning beating pleasant changes on her heart. 
 Captain Davenal came springing out. 
 
 " Hush, darling, be brave !" he said, as he took the 
 kiss from his sister's lips. " Leave all that until I 
 come down for my real farewell." 
 
 And Sara was brave, and dried her tears, and 
 confided in the prospect of that real farewell ; little 
 dreaming that it was destined never to be spoken.
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 LADY OSWALD'S JOURNEY. 
 
 Mr. Marcus Cray's marriage had taken place on 
 a Thursday, and the time went on to the following 
 Saturday week with little to mark it. Enough, as 
 events were unhappily to turn out, was to mark it 
 then. They, Marcus Cray and his wife, were expected 
 home that evening : but it is not with them that we 
 have just at present to do. 
 
 On this Saturday morning, Oswald Cray had come 
 down to Hallingham on business connected with the 
 line. In the course of the day he called on Lady 
 Oswald, and found her in a state not easy to describe. 
 That very morning certain men had been seen on her 
 grounds, marking off the small portion of its bound- 
 aries intended to be taken for the sheds. Convinced 
 that all her hopes of immunity had been but vain 
 dreams, she had become angry, hysterical, almost 
 violent. Oswald Cray had never seen her like this. 
 
 It was an illustration of the misery we may inflict
 
 lo6 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 upon ourselves, the e^dl spirit tliat ^vill arise from 
 self-grievance. In point of fact, these sheds, to be 
 built on a remote and low portion of her land, could 
 not prove any real annoyance to Lady Oswald ; she 
 would not see them from her window ; she did not go, 
 ever, near the spot. The grievance lay in her im- 
 agination ; she had made it a bugbear, and there it 
 was. In vain Oswald Cray pointed out to her that 
 it had been the same thing with regard to the rail 
 itself. ^Wle^D. she first heard it was to skirt her 
 OTounds, she had been as alarmed as she was now ; 
 but when the work was complete, the trains were 
 actually running, then Lady Oswald found (though 
 she did not acknowledge it) how void of reason her 
 alarm had been ; had the trains been fifty miles off 
 she could not have seen less of them. It would be 
 so with regard to the sheds, Oswald Cray told her ; 
 he told her that even a less portion of the ground 
 would be taken than was at first intended : he did 
 not add that he, by his persistent efforts in her cause, 
 had obtained this little concession, but he might have 
 told her so with truth. He assured her that the thing 
 could not prove an annoyance to her. All in vain. 
 He might just as well have talked to the winds. She 
 would not listen. Parkins sat in tears, administering 
 specifics for the "nerves/' and entreating my lady to
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 157 
 
 be tranquil. My lady rej^liecl by saying she should 
 never be tranquil again, and she actually abused jMr. 
 Oswald Cray. 
 
 " Xay," said Oswald, good-humouredly, " it is your 
 .landlord you should blame, not me. He agreed to 
 the thing instanter — the moment it was proposed to 
 him." 
 
 Lady Oswald's cheeks were burning as she turned, 
 to Oswald. " If he had refused, instead of consented, 
 what then ? Could they have done it in spite of 
 him?" 
 
 " It would have been done eventually, I suppose. 
 Xot just yet : the company would have had to bar- 
 gain with him, perhaps to dispute the matter with 
 him legally : and all that takes time." 
 
 " Had he persistently contended against it, the 
 company might have grown weary ; have ended by 
 fixing upon some other spot for their sheds," she 
 breathlessly cried, the excitement on her face deepen- 
 ing. 
 
 Mr. Oswald Cray hesitated. " It is possible, cer- 
 tainly ; but" 
 
 " I will go to him," broke in Lady Oswald. " I 
 will go to Low this very hour." 
 
 She started from her seat, upsetting a bottle which 
 Parkins held in her hand, almost upsetting Parkins
 
 158 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 herself in lier vehemence. Mr. Oswald Cray gently 
 restrained her. 
 
 *' My dear Lady Oswald, you will do no good by 
 going to Low now. It is too late. The thing has 
 gone too far." 
 
 *' It has not gone too far, Oswald Cray. So long 
 as the sheds are not begun it cannot be too late. If 
 Low did give his consent, he can retract it. The land 
 is freehold, and freehold land cannot be seized upon 
 lightly. Get my things, Parkins, and order the car- 
 riage." And Parkins submissively retired to obey. 
 
 '' Lady Oswald, believe me," said Oswald, impres- 
 sively, " Mr. Low cannot now retract his consent if 
 he would. The agreement is signed ; nay, I believe 
 the money is paid. Your going to him will do no 
 possible good ; it can only be productive of further 
 unpleasantness to yourself." 
 
 "Have you a motive in keeping me away from 
 him?" asked Lady Oswald, and his brow momentarily 
 contracted at her blind pertinacity. " Do you know 
 that I have never once seen him upon this subject ? — 
 never once." 
 
 ''No !" he said, really wondering at the omission. 
 
 " I would not go to see him ; I was too angry ; I 
 contented myseK with writing to him, and teUing him 
 what I thought ; and then, you know, until this
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 159 
 
 blessed morning, when Jones came into the house 
 with the news that the men were measuring the 
 land, I never thought the thing would be really done. 
 I will go to him now, Oswald Cray, and all you 
 can say against it will not avail with me. If you 
 had any courtesy you would accompany me, and 
 add your voice to mine against this unjustifiable 
 wrong." 
 
 Courtesy was an adjunct in which Oswald Cray 
 was not naturally deficient ; in time, that day, he 
 ivas. The business which brought him down ^yas 
 pressing, must have his full attention, and be finished 
 so as to enable him to return to town that night. He 
 had snatched these few minutes, while the clerks at 
 the company's of&ces were at dinner, just to see Lady 
 Oswald. 
 
 " It would give me great pleasure to escort you 
 anywhere, Lady Oswald, but to-day I really cannot 
 absent myself from HaUingham. I have my hands 
 full Besides," he added, a frank smile on his face, 
 " have you forgotten how impossible it would be for 
 me to go against the agreement made by the company 
 with Mr. Low, by soliciting that gentleman to attempt 
 to retract it V 
 
 " I see," said Lady Oswald, beating her foot pet- 
 tishly on the carpet ; " better that I had called any-
 
 160 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 body to my aid than you. Are you clierisliing 
 resentment against me, Oswald Cray?" 
 
 Oswald Cray opened his dark blue eyes in surprise. 
 
 " Eesentment ? — against you, Lady Oswald ! In- 
 deed I do not understand you." 
 
 "I thought you might be remembering what I 
 said at Dr. Davenal's, the evening of your brother's 
 wedding. I mean about the money ; wliich I said 
 I could not leave you," she continued in a low tone. 
 '' You took me up so sharjoly." 
 
 " I fear I did. I was vexed that you could so 
 misapprehend my nature. We need not recur to the 
 subject, Lady Oswald. Let it pass." 
 
 " I must say a word first, Oswald. I beheve, with 
 all yom- fiery pride, and your aptitude to take offence, 
 that your nature is honest and true ; that you would 
 save me from annoyance if you could." 
 
 "I would indeed," he interrujDted, earnestly. 
 " Even from this threatened annoyance I would 
 doubly save you, if it were at all within my power." 
 
 "Well, I want to say just this. I have always 
 liked you very well ; you have been, in fact, a 
 favourite of mine ; and many a, time it has occurred 
 to me to wish that I could put you do^vn in my 
 will" 
 
 " Lady Oswald, I pray you"
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 161 
 
 " Xow do be quiet, and hear me. I consider it a 
 duty to myself to teU you this, and I always intended 
 to tell you before my death. I fully believe what 
 you say ; that you do not wish for my money, that 
 you would prefer to make your own way ; I say I 
 fully beheve that, Oswald. There are some men — 
 honourable to fastidiousness, I call them — who are 
 utterly incapable of casting a thought or a ^Yish to 
 the money of others : you are one, as I believe ; and 
 there's the additional bar in your case with regard to 
 my money, that it comes from the Oswalds. I don't 
 think you would accept money, in whatever form it 
 came to you, from the Oswald family." 
 
 " I don't think I would," replied Oswald. And 
 he spoke the truth of his heart. 
 
 " Still, I judge it right to give you this little word 
 of explanation," she proceeded. " I daresay, when- 
 ever my will comes to be read, that you will feel 
 surprised at its contents ; may even deem that you 
 had more legal claim upon me than he who ^yi]l 
 chiefly inherit. I do not think so. I liave left my 
 money to please myself : he to whom it is left has 
 the best claim upon me in my judgment. I am 
 happy to know that he will be rewarded : and he 
 knows it." 
 
 Osw^ald felt a little puzzled : the words " and he
 
 162 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 kno^YS it" somewhat excited Ms curiosity. ^Yitll 
 her own family, who alone (in Oswald Cray's 
 o]3inion), could be said to have claims on Lady 
 Oswald, she held but little communication : and a 
 con^dction stole over him that she did not allude to 
 them. He was destined (as it proved) never to 
 forget those words ; and the construction he i^ut 
 upon them was, that the future inheritor of the 
 money knew he was named as the inheritor. He 
 said nothing. It was not a subject he cared to 
 pursue ; he had neither right nor inclination to 
 inquire as to the disposal of what Lady Oswald 
 might leave behind her. Had he dreamt of the ill 
 those words would work, he might have asked 
 further particulars. 
 
 " I thought I'd say this to you some time, Oswald. 
 Had you been less fiercely proud ; and I more at 
 liberty to dispose of what I have to leave, I should 
 regret not remembering you. As it is, perhaps all's 
 for the best." 
 
 That again struck upon him as strange : '^ I more 
 at liberty to dispose of what I have to leave." Was 
 she not at full and entire liberty? — if so, why was 
 she not ? The question set Oswald thinking. 
 
 But circumstances seemed inclined to prove 
 themselves stronger than Lady Oswald's will, in
 
 OS^VALD CRAY. 1G3 
 
 regard to this visit to her landlord. Her coachman 
 made his appearance with hindering news : one of 
 the carriage horses had fallen lame. 
 
 *' Accept it as an omen that the visit would have 
 brought forth no good luck," said Oswald Cray, 
 with a smile, while Jones stood, deprecating his 
 lady's anger. 
 
 A doubt flashed across her mind for a moment 
 whether the excuse was real, and the amazed Jones 
 had to repeat it, and to assure his mistress that he 
 was going "right off" for the veterinary surgeon 
 then. 
 
 " It will not avail," said Lady Oswald. " I shall 
 go by train. Perhaps you can tell me, Oswald Cray, 
 at what hours the trains leave for Hildon?" 
 
 . Oswald Cray said not another word of objection. 
 To make use of the railroad, to which her dislike 
 had been so insuperable, proved that she was in- 
 deed bent upon it. He bade her good-day and 
 left, and encountered Dr. Davenal's carriage in the 
 avenue. The doctor was arriving on his usual 
 daily visit. 
 
 She was somewhat of a capricious woman, Lady 
 Oswald. A few months before, in the summer time, 
 Dr. Davenal had been hoping, it may almost be said 
 secretly plotting — but the plotting was very innocent
 
 164 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 — to get Lady Oswald to favour Mark Cray suffi- 
 ciently to allow of his paying these daily visits. 
 Since then Lady Oswald had, of her own accord, be- 
 come excessively attached to Mark. That is, attached 
 in one sense of the word. It was not the genuine 
 esteem founded on long intimacy, the love, it may be 
 almost said, that draws one friend to another ; it was 
 that artificial lildng which suddenly arises, and has 
 its result in praising and patronising ; artificial be- 
 cause so shallow. In the new feeling. Lady Oswald 
 had not only sanctioned Mark's visits to her in the 
 place of Dr. Davenal, but she had recommended him 
 to every^body she knew as the cleverest young sur- 
 geon in Hallingham or out of it. It had been Mark's 
 luck speedily to cure some fancied or real ailment of 
 Lady Oswald's in a notably short space of time, and 
 Lady Oswald, who set it down to skill, really had 
 taken up the notion that he had not his equal. AYe 
 all know how highly-coloured for the time are these 
 sudden estimations of a popular doctors skill. Xone 
 rejoiced more than Dr. Davenal, and he resigned Lady 
 Oswald to Mark with inward satisfaction, and the 
 best grace in the world. But during Mark's absence 
 on his wedding-tour the doctor had taken again the 
 daily visits. 
 
 Eoger pulled up in the gravel drive when he saw
 
 OSWALD CEAV. 165 
 
 Mr. Oswald Cray : but Oswald, who had out-stayed 
 his time, could only shake hands with the doctor and 
 hasten onwards. Parkins met Dr. Davenal surrepti- 
 tiously as he entered : she had seen his approach, and 
 she stole forwards on tiptoe to meet him, her tears 
 dropping. When Lady Oswald was in her fretful 
 moods, Parkins generally found refuge in tears. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "The men have begun to measure the ground,. 
 and that stupid Jones came running open-mouthed 
 to the house with the news, and my lady heard him," 
 explained Parkins. " I'd not have told her : if people 
 held their tongues, the sheds might be built, and up, 
 and she never know it. I thought she'd have gone 
 out of her mind, sir ; and then ]\rr. Oswald Cray came 
 in, and he talked to her. I think she's calmer now ; 
 I heard her talking quietly to Mr. Oswald Cray be- 
 fore he left. But she says she'll go off by rail to ^Ir. 
 Low's." 
 
 " Is she in the drawinfy-room ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. So well, to be sure, as she was this 
 morning ! " continued Parkins, drying her tears. " I 
 don't know when she has been in such spirits, and 
 all because ^Ir. Cray was coming home to-night with 
 his wife. The fancy she has taken for him is extra- 
 ordinary- : she has been counting the days off since
 
 166 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 he was away, like a schoolgirl counts them off before 
 her holidays." 
 
 Dr. Davenal entered. He did not attempt to rea- 
 son Lady Oswald out of the visit to Mt. Low. Quite 
 the contrary. He told her the short trip by rail 
 would do her good : and he thought, which he did 
 oiot tell her, that the interview with Mr. Low might 
 set the affair at rest sooner than anything else would, 
 by convincing her that there could be no appeal 
 against the fiat, no delay in the carrjdng out of the work. 
 
 When Lady Oswald reached the station, it hap- 
 pened that Oswald Cray was there. He was emerg- 
 ing from one of the private rooms with some plans 
 under his arm when he saw her. She looked scared 
 at the bustle of the station, and was leaning helplessly 
 on her maid's arm, uncertain where to go, what to do. 
 Oswald hastened to her and took her on his arm. 
 Parkins slipped behind, quite thankful to see him : 
 she was as little used to the ways and confusion of a 
 station as her mistress. 
 
 "Will you venture still, Lady Oswald, with all 
 this turmoil?" 
 
 "Will you cease worrying me?" she answered, 
 and the tone was a sharp one, for she fancied he still 
 wished to stop her, and resented the intermeddling 
 with her will.
 
 OSWA.LD CRAY. 167 
 
 Bid lie wish to stop her ? If any such feeling 
 was upon him, it must surely have been instinct : a 
 prevision of what the ill-fated journey would bring 
 forth ; of the influence it would indirectly bear on 
 his own future life. 
 
 He said no more. He led Lady Oswald at once 
 to a first-class carriage, ^Dlaced her and Parkins in it, 
 procured their return tickets, and then leaned over 
 the carriage door and talked to Lady Oswald, ill 
 as he could spare the time. Xo man had kinder 
 feelings at heart than Oswald Cray, and it seemed to 
 him scarcely courteous to leave her — for she was in a 
 tremor still — until the train should start. 
 
 He talked to her in a gay laughing tone of indif- 
 ferent subjects, and she grew more at ease. "Only 
 think!" she suddenly exclaimed, "I may return with 
 Mr. Cray and his wife 1 Dr. Davenal told me to-day 
 they were expected early in the evenmg ; and this is 
 the way they must come. I shall be so glad when 
 he is home !" 
 
 Oswald shook his head at her with mock serious- 
 ness. ''I'd not acknowledge my faithlessness so 
 openly, were I you, Lady Oswald. To turn off Dr. 
 Davenal for Mark, after so many years' adhesion to 
 him!" 
 
 "You know nothing about it, Oswald. I have
 
 168 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 not turned off Dr. Davenal. But you may depend 
 upon one thing — tliat JNIark is a rising man. He 
 will make a greater name than you in the world." 
 
 " Yery likely. I hope he will make a name. 
 For myself" 
 
 The whistle sounded, and Oswald drew away 
 from the door. Lady Oswald put out her hand, 
 and he shook it warmly. "Shall I see you on my 
 return ?" 
 
 ''Possibly, just a glimpse," he answered. "I'll 
 look out for you when the train comes in. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 " But you'll wish me luck, Oswald — although 
 you may be boimd in honour to the interests of the 
 enemy and those 's^Tctched sheds." 
 
 " I wish it you heartily and sincerely ; in all 
 ways. Lady Oswald." 
 
 His tone was hearty as his words, his clas]^ 
 sincere. Lady Oswald withdrew her hand, and 
 left him a pleasant, cordial smile as the train 
 puffed on. 
 
 " One can't hel^^ liking him, Parkins, with all his 
 obstinate contrariness," she cried. "I wish he had 
 been the siu'geon ! Only think what a name he 
 would have made, had he possessed his brother's 
 talent!"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 169 
 
 "So he would, my lady," dutifully acquiesced 
 Parkins. 
 
 " What a good thing we are alone ! Most likely 
 he contrived it. I declare I don't dishke this," con- 
 tinued Lady Oswald, ranging her eyes round the well- 
 stuffed compartment. " It is almost as private as my 
 own carriage." 
 
 '' So it is, my lady," answered Parkins. And the 
 train went smoothly on, and in twenty minutes' time 
 Lady Oswald was deposited safely at the Hildon 
 station.
 
 CHAPTEEXII. 
 
 WAITING FOR NEWS. 
 
 Maek Cray and his ^dfe had not indicated the pre- 
 cise hour of their return : " early in the evening, but 
 not to dinner ; have tea ready," had been Mrs. Cray's 
 words to her servants in the letter received by them 
 on Friday morning. Sara Davenal went to the abbey 
 about five o'clock to wait for them. 
 
 Mark and Caroline were beginning as prudently 
 as their best friends could desire ; two maid-servants 
 only, engaged under the careful eye of Miss Bettina, 
 comprised their household. The large hea\^ door of 
 the abbey opened to a large stone hall ; on the left of 
 this was a large sitting-room, with cross-beams in its 
 ceiling and deep-mullioned windows, looking on to 
 the branching lines of rails and the station in the 
 distance ; not so pleasant a view as had been the gay 
 abbey gardens. Indeed, with the doing away of those 
 gardens, the pleasantest part of the abbey, as a resi- 
 dence, had gone. It was a rambling sort of place
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 171 
 
 inside, with very" little comfort. This room and the 
 drawing-room above were the only good-sized rooms 
 in the house ; four modern rooms might have been 
 put into that drawing-room, and what its carpeting 
 had cost was something to be talked of. The bed- 
 chambers were pigeon-holes, the domestic offices dark 
 closets, paved with stone ; in short, the abbey was a 
 grander place in sound than it was pleasant for use. 
 The Grays, who had lived in it so long, were party- 
 giving people, thinking more of show than comfort ; 
 the pigeon-holes were good enough for them ; the 
 dark stone kitchens might be made the best of by the 
 servants ; the great drawing-room, larger than any- 
 body else's in Hallingham, gladdened their hearts. 
 It was certainly an imposing room when filled with 
 company and lights. 
 
 Sara Davenal waited and waited in the downstairs 
 room. She had taken off her things, and made her- 
 self at home. Her dress was of dark-blue silk, the 
 bands of her brown hair were smooth and silken, and 
 excitement had brougjht a colour to her cheeks. She 
 had never before been parted from Caroline since the 
 latter arrived, years ago, from the West Indies. The 
 tea was on the table in readiness, with a cold fowl 
 and tongue, thoughtfully ordered to be provided by 
 Miss DavenaL
 
 172 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Five o'clock ; half-past five ; six o'clock ; half- 
 past six ; seven o'clock ; and still tliey had not come. 
 Sara grew impatient — it is of no use to deny it — and 
 blamed them for want of punctuality. They had not 
 bargained for her feverish longing. 
 
 She stood at the window, looking still, as she had 
 done since five o'clock. It had grown into night 
 since she stood there ; would have grown to dark, 
 but for the brilliant moon that lighted the heavens. 
 A servant came in. 
 
 " Shall I bring lights, miss ?" 
 
 "Not yet. I want to watch for the train !" 
 
 The maid retired. Sara waited on — waited and 
 waited, until she felt sure that it must be haK-past 
 seven ; but then she was counting time by her own 
 impatience, not by the clock. Her eyes began to 
 grow weary with the intense and incessant gaze at 
 the station, and she could see a good many people 
 standing at its entrance in the moonlight — stragglers, 
 no doubt, waiting for the train, wondering, hke her- 
 self, that it was not in, and what had become of it. 
 
 As she thus stood, there was a loud ring at the 
 door-bell. Sara flew into the hall in glee, thinking 
 how stupid she must have been not to observe them 
 crossing the bridge round by the lines : flew into the 
 hall, and was met by her aunt.
 
 os^yx\.LD CEAY. 173 
 
 Miss Davenal ! when she had expected the bride- 
 groom and bride ! But Sara had to make the best of 
 it, and she did so in her pleasing, graceful manner, 
 drawing her aunt in by the hand to the dark 
 room. 
 
 " They have not come yet, Aunt Bettina." 
 
 " AVhatever's the meaning of this?" was the sur- 
 prised question of Miss Davenal " All in the dark ! 
 And where are they ? " 
 
 " They have not come yet," repeated Sara. 
 " Bring the lights," she added in a low voice to the 
 servant. 
 
 " ]S"ot come ! Where are they stopping ?" 
 
 " The train is not in. Aunt Bettina." 
 
 " The what's not in ?" 
 
 « The train." 
 
 " Why, what has come to it?" 
 
 Miss Bettina, all amazed, and scarcely believing 
 the information, went hastily to the window, and 
 looked towards the station. At that moment the 
 other servant, Dorcas, came into the room. She 
 was not a stranger to the family, having once lived 
 with Miss Davenal, before that lady took up her 
 abode with her brother. Dorcas was getting on to 
 be middle-aged, — a sensible looking woman, with a 
 turned-up nose and reddish hair.
 
 174 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " Miss Sara," she whispered, " they are saying 
 there's been an accident to the train." 
 
 Sara Davenal's heart seemed to stand still and 
 then bound on again as if it would break its bounds. 
 
 "Who says it?" she gasped. 
 
 *' I saw the folks standing about, and talking one 
 to the other ; so I opened my kitchen winder, and 
 asked what was amiss, and they said the seven o'clock 
 train was not in, that it had met with an accident. 
 Miss Sara" 
 
 But Miss Sara had turned from her. Silently 
 snatching her shawl and bonnet from the sofa where 
 she had laid them, she quitted the room, the un- 
 conscious Miss Davenal standing yet at the win- 
 dow. Dorcas followed her, and, by the lights that 
 were now being carried in, she saw how white she 
 looked. 
 
 " Miss Sara, I was about to say that it may not 
 be true," continued Dorcas, as Sara hastily flung on 
 her things. "/ don't think it is : there'd be more up- 
 roar at the station if any news of that sort had been 
 brought in." 
 
 " I am going over to see ; I cannot remain in this 
 suspense. Not go by myself ? " she repeated, in reply 
 to the woman's remonstrance ; " nonsense, Dorcas ! 
 Everybody knows me : I am Dr. Davenal's daughter.
 
 OSWALD CEAY. l75 
 
 You stay witli my Aunt Bettina, and be sure don't 
 alarm her if you can help it." 
 
 Pulling the door open with her own hand, she 
 passed under the red light of Mr. Cray's professional 
 lamp, and hastened by the side-path and the bridge 
 round to the station. Her face was pale, lier pulses 
 were beating. Sara Davenal had a quick imagination, 
 and all the horrors of accidents by rail that she had 
 ever heard seemed to rise up before her. 
 
 There was no impediment offered to her entering 
 the station. Several persons were standing about, 
 but they did not appear to notice her, and she passed 
 through the room where the tickets were given, on to 
 the platform. There she found herself in the midst 
 of a crowd. Not a moving crowd, but a waiting 
 crowd, whose faces were mostly turned one way — 
 that by which the expected train ought to come. 
 Sara saw a talkative porter, and got near him, a man 
 she knew. 
 
 " Has there been an accident ?" she asked. 
 
 "Wei], miss, there's nothing known for certain. 
 It's odd where the train can be ; and if anything has 
 happened, it's odder still that the telegraph haven't 
 brought word of it. I remember once she was half 
 an hour late before." 
 
 " Who was ?" asked Sara, bewildered.
 
 176 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " This here seven o'clock train. 'Twarn't nothing 
 wrong with her then : some of them bothering excur- 
 sion-trains had blocked up the line. I'd lay, miss, 
 it's the same thing to-night. The doctor ain't gone 
 down the line, is he ?" 
 
 " No, no. I am expecting my cousin and Mr. Cray." 
 
 " It'll be all right, miss. She won't be long. We 
 shall hear her steam directly." 
 
 Somewhat reassured, Sara turned, and was push- 
 ing her way through the throng, wishing to get clear 
 of it, when she found herself a sort of prisoner. A 
 gentleman had placed his arm before her, and looking 
 up in the moonlight she discerned the features of 
 Oswald Cray. Her heart gave a great bound of satis- 
 faction, of love, and she almost caught at his protect- 
 ing hand. 
 
 It was a curious and exciting scene. The station 
 raising its imposing height to the night sky, so blue 
 and beautiful ; the crowd gathered there, unnaturally 
 still in the intensity of awed expectation ; the lights 
 and bustle of the town not far away ; the noiseless 
 tread of the porters, as they moved restlessly in their 
 suspense ; — aU made a painfully interesting picture 
 in the bright moonlight. 
 
 Oswald Cray was waiting for the in-coming train. 
 It was the one he intended to depart by. He drew
 
 OSWALD CRAY. l77 
 
 Sara away from tlie throng, and gave her his arm. 
 Her heart was beating at the consciousness of his 
 presence ; her whole frame had thrilled at the touch 
 of his hand. 
 
 "Is there danger, do you fear?" she whispered. 
 
 " No, I trust not. I thmk not. Were anything 
 wrong, the' telegraph would have brought the news. 
 It must be some obstruction on the line." 
 
 Sara's fear faded away. She had confidence in 
 him. If he, so experienced, the line's own engineer, 
 saw no cause for dread, why should she ? Perhaps 
 she could not quite banish one little corner of doubt 
 in her heart ; perhaps Mr. Oswald Cray might have 
 some slight corner of fear himself, which he did not 
 deem it expedient to impart to her. 
 
 " Did you get frightened, Sara ? ^' he asked, as they 
 walked slowly to and fro in the moonlight. 
 
 " I was at the Abbey waiting for them, and Dorcas, 
 one of their new serv^ants, came to me with the news 
 that people in the street were saying there had been 
 an accident. I was very much frightened,, and came 
 away ; ran away, I may say," she added smiling, 
 " without saying anything to Aunt Bettina.'^ 
 
 " Is she at the Abbey ? " 
 
 "She has just come. She expected they had 
 returned.'"'
 
 178 OSWALD CKAY.' 
 
 " I fear Lady Oswald is waiting for this train at 
 Hildon," he remarked. " She will not like the delay." 
 
 " Indeed ! Lady Oswald at Hildon ! " 
 
 He explained to her how it was : that Lady 
 Oswald had gone to Mr. Low's, and was not yet back. 
 Did you know that I called at your house this after- 
 noon ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," she said, lifting her head. " Did you call?" 
 
 " It was about five o'clock. I have been very 
 busy all day, but I managed to get a minute. You 
 were out, ISTeal said, and the doctor was out ; only 
 Miss Davenal at home, so I did not go in." 
 
 " I had come down to the Abbey," said Sara. " I 
 thought they might arrive by an earlier train than 
 til's. Are you obliged to go back to London to- 
 night?" 
 
 " Quite obliged, if the train shall arrive to take 
 me. What's that?" 
 
 Some stir was discernible in the throng. Oswald 
 Cray held his breath, listening for any sound that 
 might indicate the approach of the train ; but in the 
 distance he could hear nothing, and the stir, caused 
 perhaps only by the restlessness of waiting, died away. 
 They paced on again. 
 
 " Since I saw you, Sara, I have had an offer made 
 me of going abroad."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 179 
 
 " To stay long ?" she quickly asked. " Where 
 to?" 
 
 " To stay a long while, had I accepted it ; perhaps 
 for life. In a pecuniary point of view the change 
 would have been an advantageous one : it would 
 have given me a position at once. But the climate 
 is shocking. So 1 declined." 
 
 *' Oh, I am glad !" she involuntarily said. "You 
 should not run any of those risks." 
 
 " I did not hesitate on my own score. At least, 
 I am not sure that I should have hesitated, but I 
 really did not think of myself at all in the matter. 
 I did not get so far. I should not like to have gone 
 out alone, Sara : and I felt that I had no right to 
 expose another to these chances ; one whom I 
 should then be bound to protect and cherish, so far 
 as man's protection goes, from all ill." 
 
 He spoke in what may be called general words, 
 in a general tone, but it was impossible for Sara to 
 misunderstand him. Every pulse within her beat in 
 answer, quietly as she continued to walk, calmly as 
 her eyes rested straight before her. She knew it 
 was his intention not to speak openly, until he 
 could speak to some purpose : and she thought he 
 was right. 
 
 " So I resolved to continue where I am, and plod
 
 180 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 on diligently," he continued. " Advancement, though 
 more slow, will be sure. Do you think I did 
 right?" 
 
 *' Quite right, quite right," she murmured. And, 
 had they been speaking without reserve to each other, 
 she might have added, " Papa would not like me to 
 go abroad." 
 
 A silence ensued. They paced together in that 
 quiet spot away from the busy crowd, the silvery 
 moonlight above, the pure passion of love's first dream 
 tilling their hearts within. No need of words : the 
 conscious presence of each was all in all. 
 
 " Where can this train be ?" exclaimed Oswald at 
 length, breaking the charm of the silence. 
 
 Almost as the words left his lips one of the porters 
 came hurriedly up, touching his hat as he spoke. 
 
 " There has been a mistake in the telegraph-room, 
 sir. Leastways, some bungle. The train loas tele- 
 graphed from Hildon." 
 
 A moment's startled pause on the part of Oswald 
 
 Cray. 
 
 " It was told to me positively that the train had 
 
 not left, Parker?" 
 
 " I know, sir ; we all understood it so. But James 
 Eales is come back now, and he says we misunder- 
 stood him : that the train was telegraphed at the pro-
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 181 
 
 per time. There's an accident, sir, for certain ; and 
 it's between this and Hildon." 
 
 "I think there must be a mistake," murmnred 
 Oswald Cray to Sara. " Stay here quietly, away from 
 the crowd." 
 
 Giving no further satisfaction to her fears— in- 
 deed he could not give it — he walked hastily to the 
 small room used as the telegraph office. The news 
 which the porter had brought to him was spreading 
 elsewhere, and the entrance to it was blocked up 
 with an eager throng. He began to work his way 
 through. 
 
 " By your leave, by your leave, good people. And 
 they drew aside so as to give room for him to pass 
 when they saw who it was. Mr. Oswald Cray's right 
 of authority, as being superior to that of any at the 
 station, was known and recognised. 
 
 The telegraph clerk was a young man named 
 James Eales. It was his duty to receive the messages, 
 and in due course he ought to have received the one 
 from Hildon, signifying that the expected train 
 (called in familiar terms at HalHngham the seven 
 o'clock train, although it came in five minutes sooner) 
 had duly quitted Hildon. This message was due 
 somewhere about twenty-three minutes to seven, and 
 it came this evening as usual quite punctually. No
 
 182 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 sooner had it been received than James Eales, who 
 wanted to absent himself for a short while on an 
 errand to the town, asked one of the men to take his 
 place. Other messages might be expected relating 
 to the trains, not to speak of private messages, always 
 liable to come : and the man took the place accord- 
 ingly. As Eales was going out, the man, whose name 
 was Williams, called after him to know whether the 
 train was signalled. Eales thought he meant the 
 down-train, whose signal was nearly due, and replied, 
 "'No, not yet." But in point of fact Williams had 
 alluded to the up-train from Hildon, which had been 
 signalled. That man was an accurate time-keeper ; 
 it wanted two or three minutes yet to the signalling 
 of the down-train, and he would not have been likely, 
 from this very accuracy, to inquire whether that 
 message had come, it not being due. Eales, who did 
 not possess the like innate accuracy, and was besides 
 in a hurry to depart, confused the question, and took 
 it to allude to the down-train. It is through these 
 mistakes, which are caused half by carelessness, half by 
 what may be almost called unavoidable misapprehen- 
 sion, that accidents occur. It did not lead to the accident 
 in this case, but it has led to many a one. Williams 
 ought to have said, "Is the ^^p-train signalled?" 
 Saying what he did say, "Is the train signalled?"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 183 
 
 Eales should have answered, "The up-train is sig- 
 nalled ; not the down." 
 
 Williams sat down to the desk or bureau, the 
 telegraph indicator being in front of him, above his 
 head. Precisely to time the down telegraph came, 
 a confirmation it may almost be said of the mistake. 
 Williams noted it, and wondered what the up-train 
 was about that its signal did not likewise come. 
 After seven o'clock came and passed, and the up- 
 train did not arrive, the station-master, who had 
 been enjoying a little recreative gossip on his own 
 score, and not attending to his duties quite as closely 
 as he might have been, made his appearance in the 
 telegraph office. 
 
 "Where's James Eales?" he demanded. 
 
 Williams explained. He had stepped out on an 
 errand, and he, Williams, was taking his place. The 
 'station-master made no demur to this : Williams 
 was as capable as Eales, and often worked the tele- 
 graph. 
 
 " Has the up-train been signalled from Hildon V 
 
 '' No, sir." 
 
 " Not been signalled !" echoed the station-master, 
 in an accent of disbelief. 
 
 " It has not been signalled for certain," was the 
 reply of Williams. "Eales told me the signal had
 
 184 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 not come when he left, and I am sure it has not 
 come since." 
 
 " Where can it be?" exclaimed the station-master. 
 "I suppose some of those monster excursion-trains 
 are blocking up the line somewhere." 
 
 A consolatory conclusion, quite doing away with 
 uneasiness or fear. The station-master promulgated 
 the news that the train had not been signalled from 
 Hildon, together with his own suggestive idea of the 
 offending excursion-trains. He told ^Ir. Oswald 
 Cray it had not been signalled, and he told others : 
 therefore the officials were perfectly at their ease 
 upon the point, whatever the assembled crowd 
 might be. 
 
 It was just five-and-twenty minutes past seven 
 when Eales returned. He had stayed longer than 
 he intended, and he dashed into his office head fore- 
 most, catching a glimpse of the crowd on the plat- 
 form, now quickly increasing. 
 
 "What do they want, that lot?" he cried to 
 Williams. " Is anji^hing wrong ?" 
 
 " They are waiting for the up-train. It 's preciously 
 behind time to-night, and I suppose some of them are 
 alarmed — have got friends in it, may be." 
 
 ''What up-train?" asked Eales. 
 
 " The seven o'clock up-train to London "
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 185 
 
 Eales stood confounded. " "^Vliy, is that not come 
 up ? An accident must have happened." 
 
 " Not obliged to," coolly returned Williams. " It's 
 kept back by the excursion-trains, most likely." 
 
 "There are no excursion-trains to-day between 
 this and Hildon," quickly observed Eales. 
 
 "It has not got so far yet. It has not passed 
 Hildon." 
 
 " It has passed Hildon," replied Eales. " It passed 
 at its proper time, and was signalled up." 
 
 Williams turned and stared at Eales with all his 
 might. " Who says it has been signalled up ?" 
 
 " Who says it ! Why, I say it. I got the signal 
 as usual." 
 
 " Then how came you to teU me you hadn't had 
 it ?" asked Williams. 
 
 " I never told you so." 
 
 "You did. You'll say black's white next. It 
 was the only question I asked you — whether the 
 up-train had been signalled, and you replied it had 
 not been." 
 
 " You said the down-train : you never said the 
 up." 
 
 "I meant the up. It's not likely I should ask 
 whether the down-train was signalled, when it wasn't 
 near due ! Yoii have done a pretty thing !" 
 I l2
 
 186 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 How long they miglit liave continued to dispute, 
 one seeking to lay ttie blame upon the other, it is 
 impossible to say. But at that moment the station- 
 master came in again, and the mistake was made 
 known to him and to others. The train had left 
 Hildon at its proper time, and therefore the delay, 
 whatever might be its cause, lay very near to them — 
 in the six miles of rail intervening between Halling- 
 ham and Hildon ; the train must be on some spot of it. 
 
 That an accident of some nature had taken place, 
 the most sanguine could now only believe, and a 
 whole shower of verbal missives was hurled upon the 
 two men, Eales and Williams, who did nothing but 
 retort on each other. Each firmly regarded the other 
 as being alone in fault ; an impartial judge would 
 have said they were equally culpable. Extricating 
 himself from the confusion, Mr. Oswald Cray returned 
 to Sara. She looked at him with questioning eyes, 
 her heart shrinking ; that hubbub in the station had 
 reawakened her fears. He quietly placed her hand 
 within his arm, and began to pace as before. 
 
 *'I find things do not look quite so well as we 
 fancied" 
 
 "There has been an accident!" she interrupted. 
 "Do not hide it from me, Oswald !" 
 
 He lightly laid his other hand on hers, an assur-
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 187 
 
 ance of his truth. " I will hide nothing from you, 
 my dearest," and the never-yet-used term of endear- 
 ment seemed to slip from him involuntarily, in the 
 moment's need that he should soothe her. " We have 
 not heard that there is any accident, for no tidings of 
 any sort have come up ; but the train, it seems, did 
 leave Hildon at its usual time, and something must 
 therefore have occurred to delay it." 
 
 A deep, sobbing sigh nearly broke from her, but 
 she cous^hed it down. 
 
 " Do not meet trouble half-way," he said in a 
 lighter tone. " It does not follow that an accident, 
 in the popular sense of the term, must have occurred, 
 because the train is not up. The engine may have 
 broken down and be unable to come on, but the 
 passengers may be as safe and well as we are. There's 
 no doubt the engine is disabled, or it would have come 
 on for assistance." 
 
 " Assistance for the wounded ? " she quickly re- 
 joined. 
 
 "Assistance that may be wanted in any way. 
 The telegraph is at work to stop all trains, and some 
 of us are going down " 
 
 It was the last collected word they were enabled 
 to speak. The news had spread in the town, and the 
 affrighted people were coming up in shoals. News,
 
 188 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 at the best, loses nothing in carrying, and the delay 
 was magnified into a dreadful accident, with half the 
 train killed. In the midst of it the guard of the 
 missing train arrived, flying up the line as if for his 
 life, and carrying a lantern. 
 
 The engine had run off the line on to the bank, 
 and turned over. A few of the passengers were in- 
 jured, but he thought not many ; some of them were 
 coming on, the field way. It had occurred about' 
 midway between the two stations, a little nearer to 
 Hallingham than to the other. An engine was 
 wanted to bring on the train, and it might be as well 
 if a doctor or two went down. 
 
 This was the climax for the affrighted crowd, and 
 those who had relatives in the train seemed to well- 
 nigh lose their senses. A scene of inextricable con- 
 fusion ensued. Some were restrained by force from 
 jumping on the line and setting off to the scene of 
 accident ; some strove to get upon the carriage and 
 engine about to start for it. Order was restored with 
 great difficulty, and the carriage and engine rescued 
 from the invaders, who then quitted the station, and 
 set off to run to the scene, through the same fields 
 that, as the guard said, passengers were advancing. 
 
 Two medical men, who had been hastily obtained, 
 Mr. Oswald Cray, and sundry officials of the line, took.
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 189 
 
 their seats in the carriage to be conveyed to the spot. 
 The engine had given its first puff, and was snorting 
 off, when a loud shout arrested it. 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! One single moment ! Here's Dr. 
 Davenal!" 
 
 His name, for those poor wounded ones, was a 
 tower of strength — worth all the rest of the surgical 
 skill in Hallingham — and he was pulled into the car- 
 riage, having caught a glimpse of the white face of 
 his daughter outside the throng. Sara, terrified and 
 bewildered, wondering what she should do next, was 
 suddenly pounced upon by Miss Davenal. 
 
 " You naughty girl ! AYhat is it that you are 
 doing here V 
 
 " Aunt Bettina, there has been an accident to 
 the train ! Caroline and Mr. Cray are sure to be 
 in it." 
 
 "Caroline and Mr. Cray are what?" cried out 
 Miss Bettina, 
 
 " I fear they are in the train. There has been an 
 accident between here and Hildon. An engine has 
 just gone down with assistance." 
 
 " I don't want to know about engines," returned 
 Miss Davenal, who had not understood one word in 
 ten. " I ask what you do here alone ? Caroline and 
 Mr. Cray can come home, I suppose, without jout
 
 190 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 waiting for them in this public manner. What 
 would your papa say if he saw you ?" 
 
 ''Papa has seen me," replied Sara. ''Papa has 
 just come up to the station and is gone dovv^n with 
 the engine." 
 
 "Gone down with what engine? What do you 
 mean?" 
 
 Sara put her lips close to Miss Davenal's ear. 
 " Papa's gone down the line with some more gentle- 
 men, to see about the wounded." 
 
 " Wounded !" shrieked Miss Bettina. " Has there 
 been an accident? Who's wounded? Caroline and 
 Mr. Cray?" 
 
 " We don't know yet, aunt." And in the best way 
 that she could, Sara strove to make the case compre- 
 hensible to her aunt. INIiss Davenal understood at 
 last, and was somewhat mollified. 
 
 "Sara, I am not very angry with you now. I 
 might have stopped myself. An accident to the 
 train, and the doctors gone down ! Oh ! those dread- 
 ful railways I" 
 
 A little longer of suspense, and then the passengers 
 began to arrive. After the shock and fright, it had 
 seemed safer to many of them to walk the three 
 miles of distance than to trust to the rail again and 
 another engine. The path fields were dry, and it
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 191 
 
 was a pleasant walk by moonlight. Miss Bettina, 
 whose eyes were as quick as her hearing was 
 dull, was the first to recognise Mrs. Cray amidst 
 them. 
 
 Caroline burst into tears as they laid hold of her, 
 and Sara's heart began to sink. But the tears were 
 only the effect of the fright and excitement she had 
 gone through. She could -give no clear account of the 
 accident or what it had brought forth. All she knew 
 was that there was great banging and bumping of the 
 carriage she was in, but it was not overturned. Two 
 other carriages were ; and the engine was lying on 
 its side with all its steam coming out of it. She 
 scrambled up the bank in her terror, as did most of 
 the passengers, and came on with them. 
 
 " And Mark ? " asked Sara, scarcely daring to put 
 the question. 
 
 '' Mark ! He stayed to look after the wounded," 
 was her reply. "He said he thought there was 
 nobody seriously hurt. At any rate, there are no 
 lives lost." 
 
 Sara's heart breathed a word of thankfulness. 
 " Did you see Lady Oswald ? " slic asked. '' Slie 
 went to Hildon this afternoon, and Mr. Oswald Cray 
 thought she must be in this train, returning." 
 
 " I did not see her," replied Mrs. Cray. " Lady
 
 192 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Oswald in the train 1 I tliouglit she never travelled 
 by rail." 
 
 " She did this afternoon. One of her carriage- 
 horses is ill. How thankful ! — how thankful we 
 must all be that it is no worse ! " concluded Sara 
 Davenal. 
 
 "Well, this is a fine ending to your wedding 
 jaunt 1 " exclaimed Miss Bettina. " What about your 
 luggage, Caroline ? Is it safe ? " 
 
 " As if we gave a thought to our luggage, Aunt 
 Bettina ! When people's lives are at stake they can't 
 think of their luggage." 
 
 " Nor care either, perhaps," sharply answered 
 Miss Bettina, who, for a wonder, had caught the 
 words. " It may be lying soused in the engine-water, 
 for aU you know ! " 
 
 " I daresay it is," equably returned CaroKne. " It 
 was in the van next the engine." 
 
 But the full report had to come up yet ; and the 
 excited crowd stopped on.
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 PAIN. 
 
 Clear and distinct lay the lines of rail in the cold 
 moonlight. It was a straight bit of line there, without 
 curve or bend, rise or incline ; and why the engine 
 should have gone off the rails remained to be proved. 
 It was lying on its side, the steam escaping as from a 
 fizzing, hissing furnace ; the luggage-van was over- 
 turned, and its contents were scattered ; and two car- 
 riages were overturned also : a second-class, which had 
 been next the van, a first-class which had followed it. 
 But now, as good Providence willed it, in that 
 second-class carriage there had only been three pas- 
 sengers. The train was not a crowded one, and people 
 don't go close to the engine as a matter of taste. Of 
 these three passengers, two had thrown themselves 
 flat on the floor of the carriage between the seats, and 
 escaped without injury ; the other had a broken arm 
 and a bruised head, not of much moment. The first- 
 class carriage was more fully occupied, and several of 
 the passengers, though not fatally or even extensively, 
 I K
 
 194 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 were seriously hurt ; and of the driver and stoker, the 
 one had saved himself by leaping from his engine, the 
 other was flung to a distance and lay there as he fell. 
 
 Mark Cray, as you have heard, remained to tend 
 the wounded. The first face he distinguished in the 
 moonlight, lying amidst the debris of the overturned 
 first-class carriage, was that of Lady Oswald : and so 
 completely astonished was he to see it, that he thought 
 either his eyes or the moon must be playing him 
 false. He and Caroline had been in a carriage almost 
 at the back of the train, consequently he had not seen 
 her at the Hildon station : and he had believed that 
 Lady Oswald, of all persons, would have been the last 
 to attempt railway travelling, so much was she averse 
 to rails and trains in general. Groaning and moaning 
 by her side was Parkins ; and Mr. Cray could doubt 
 no longer. 
 
 With assistance, the passengers were extricated 
 and laid upon the bank. Their injuries were un- 
 equal ; some, after the first shock, could walk and 
 talk, some could do neither ; while the first grum- 
 bled and complained of their bruises and abrasions, 
 the last lay still, except for groaning. The only 
 perfectly quiet one was Lady Oswald : she lay with 
 her pale face upturned to the moonlight, her eyes 
 closed. It was natural perhaps that Mark Cray
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 195 
 
 should turn his first attention to her. A gentle- 
 man, one of the passengers, asked if she was dead. 
 
 " No," said Mark ; " she has only fainted. Par- 
 kins, suppose you get up and try if you can walk 
 I'm sure you can't be hurt if you are able to make 
 that noise. That engine appears not to be over 
 steady. Take care it does not raise itself again and 
 come puffing off this way." 
 
 Parkins, not detecting the ruse, started up with 
 a shriek, and stood rubbing herself all over. " I 
 think Pm killed," she cried ; " I don't believe I 
 have got a whole bone in me." 
 
 "I'll see by-and-by," said Mr. Cray. *' Mean- 
 while come and help your lady. -I want her bonnet 
 and cap untied." 
 
 Parkins limped to the spot stiffly with many 
 groans, but wonderfully well considering the belief 
 she had just expressed. At the same moment, some 
 one came up with water, procured from a pond in 
 the field, and the driver, who had just come to his 
 legs, brought a lamp. The lamp was held to Lady 
 Oswald's face, and some of the water poured into 
 her mouth. Between the two she opened her eyes. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " she asked. " Where am I ? '' 
 
 " She's all right," whispered Mr. Cray, his warm 
 tone proving that he had not previously felt so assured
 
 196 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 of the fact. " Has anybody got a drop of brandy?" 
 he called out to the passengers, who yet stayed at the 
 scene. 
 
 " Goodness me ! where am I ? " cried Lady Oswald, 
 with a faint shriek. " Parkins, is that you ? What 
 has happened ? Didn't we get into the railway car- 
 riage?" 
 
 " But we are out of it now, my lady," cried Par- 
 kins, sobbing. " There has been an awful upset, my 
 lady, and I don't know anything more, except that 
 it's a mercy we are alive." 
 
 " An upset 1" repeated Lady Oswald, who appeared 
 to have no recollection whatever of the circumstances. 
 " Is anybody hurt ? Are you hurt, Parkins ?" 
 
 " Every bone in me is broke, my lady, if I may 
 judge by the feel of 'em. This comes of them sheds." 
 
 " Be quiet. Parkins," said ^Ir. Cray, who had suc- 
 ceeded in finding a wicker-cased bottle containing 
 some brandy-and-water. " Help me to raise your 
 lady a little." 
 
 Parkins contrived to give her help in spite of the 
 damaged bones, but the moment Lady Oswald was 
 touched she shrieked out terribly. 
 
 *'Let me alone! let me alone! Is that Mark 
 Cray ? How kind you are to come to see after me, 
 Mr. Cray ? Did you come from Hallingham ?"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 197 
 
 " We were in the same train, Lady Oswald ; I 
 and Caroline. I am very glad that it happened to 
 be so." 
 
 " To be sure ; I begin to remember : you were to 
 return to-night. I — 1 feel very faint." 
 
 Mark succeeded in getting her to drink some 
 brandy-and-water, but she positively refused to be 
 touched, though she said she was in no pain. He 
 thought she was exhausted, the effect of the shock, 
 and left her to attend to other sufferers, who perhaps 
 wanted his aid more than Lady Oswald. 
 
 Then, after awhile, the carriage came up, bringing 
 the help from Hallingham. Mark Cray saw Dr. 
 Davenal with the greatest pleasure, and he took him 
 at once towards Lady Oswald. 
 
 "Are many hurt?" inquired the doctor. 
 
 " Astonishingly few," was the reply ; *' and the 
 hurts are of a very minor character, I fancy. A 
 broken arm is about the worst." 
 
 "And what of Lady Oswald?" 
 
 " I don't think she 's hurt at all : she 's suffering 
 from the shock. A little exhausted ; but that 's 
 natural." 
 
 " To a woman of her age such a shock is no light 
 thing, jVIark. However, we must do the best we can 
 for everybody."
 
 198 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 " There has been enough groaning — if that's any- 
 thing to judge by," said Mark ; " groaning and com- 
 plaining too." 
 
 " Glad to hear it," said the doctor. " When people 
 can complain, the damage is not very extensive." 
 
 "Parkins, for one, keeps protesting that every 
 bone's broken. But she ran out of the way pretty 
 quickly when I told her the engine might start up 
 again." 
 
 The doctor smiled, and they came up to Lady 
 Oswald. Oswald Cray had found her out, and was 
 sitting on the bank beside her. She spoke just a 
 word or two to him, but seemed, as Mr. Cray had 
 said, exhausted. Oswald Cray rose to resign his 
 place to Dr. Davenal, and he took his brother aside. 
 
 "Is she much hurt, Mark?" 
 
 "0 no," replied Mark. "It has shaken her, of 
 course ; but she has been talking as fast as I can." 
 
 He spoke with singular confidence. In the first 
 place, Mark Cray was naturally inclined to look on 
 the bright side of things, to feel confident himself in 
 the absence of any palpable grounds for doing so ; in 
 the second, he did not think it at all mattered what 
 information on the point was given to Oswald. 
 
 Eeassured upon the score of Lady Oswald, Oswald 
 quitted Mark, and went amidst the wounded. Proud
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 199 
 
 man though he was accused of being, though he was^ 
 never was there a tenderer heart, a softer hand, a 
 gentler voice for the sick and suffering, than his. All 
 the patients appeared to have been attended to in 
 some degree ; and they were in good hands now. 
 Oswald halted by the side of the poor stoker, a 
 swarthy, honest-faced man, who was moaning out his 
 pain. 
 
 " What, is it you, Bigg?" he said, recognising the 
 man. " I did not know you were back on this part 
 of the line ac^ain." 
 
 o 
 
 " I on'y come on it yesterday, sir. It's just my 
 luck." 
 
 " Where are you hurt ?" 
 
 "I be scalded awful, sir. I never knew what 
 pain was afore to-night. All my lower limbs is " 
 
 "Take care!" shouted Oswald to a stupid fellow 
 who was running along with a plank in his arms. 
 "Can't you see there's a man lying here? What 
 are you about V 
 
 "About my work," was the rough reply, spoken 
 in an insolent tone. It was one of the men just 
 brought down, a workman from Hallingham station, 
 and Oswald knew him well. 
 
 " What is that, Wells ?" he quietly asked. 
 
 Wells looked round now, surprised at being ad-
 
 200 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 dressed by name. He pretty nearly dropped his load 
 in consternation when he recognised Mr. Oswald 
 Cray. Full as his hands were, he managed to jerk 
 his hat from his head. 
 
 " I beg your pardon I'm sure, sir. I thought it 
 was nothing but some idler obstricting of me. One 
 does get beset with idlers at these times, asking one 
 all sorts of questions. I shouldn't have answered 
 that way, sir, if I'd knowed it was you." 
 
 " Go on with your work ; there's no time to talk. 
 And don't blunder along again without looking where 
 you are going." 
 
 One can't see well in the dark, sir." 
 
 " It's not dark ; it is as light as it need be. Quite 
 light enough for you to see your way. Do you call 
 that bright moon nothing ?" 
 
 "He'd ha' been right over my legs, but for you, sir,'' 
 murmured poor Bigg, the great drops of pain stand- 
 ing out on his brow, black with his occupation. " I 
 don't know how I be to bear this agony. That cursed 
 engine" 
 
 " Hush, Bigg," interrupted Mr. Oswald Cray. 
 
 Bigg groaned his contrition. "Heaven forgive 
 me ! I know it ain't a right word for me to-night." 
 
 " Heaven will help you to bear the pain if you 
 will only let it," said Oswald. "There has been
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 201 
 
 worse pain to bear than even yours, my poor fellov/ ; 
 thougli I know how hard it is for you now to think 
 so." 
 
 '*It may be my death-blow, sir. And what's to 
 become o' my wife and little uns ? Who'll work for 
 'em?" 
 
 " No, no, Bigg. I hope it is not so bad as that. 
 I do not think it is." 
 
 " If one might count by pain, sir " 
 
 " Bigg, I can give you a little comfort on that 
 score," interrupted Oswald Cray. " A friend of mine 
 was very dreadfully burnt, through his bed-clothes 
 catching fire. Awfully burnt : I don't like, even at 
 this distance of time, to think of it. The next day I 
 heard of it and went to see him. I am not a very 
 good one to witness physical pain, and I remember 
 how I dreaded to witness his, and the spectacle I did 
 not doubt he presented. He was a spectacle, poor 
 fellow — but let that pass. To my great astonishment 
 he saluted me heartily as I went in. * Holloa, old 
 friend ! ' were his words, not only cheerfidly but 
 merrily spoken. I found that he did not suffer pain : 
 had not felt any from the moment he was burnt. In 
 my ignorance, I set that down as a most favourable 
 symptom, and felt sure he would get well shortly. 
 When I was lea\dng him, I met the doctor going in.
 
 202 OSAVALD CRAY. 
 
 and said Iiott glad I was to find liis patient so well. 
 ' Well ! ' he exclaimed, ' why, what do you judge by?' 
 And I said — by his feeling no pain. ' That's just it,' 
 the doctor observed : ' if he only felt pain there might 
 be a chance for him. I wish I could hear him roar 
 out with it.' Now, Bigg," Mr. Oswald Cray added, 
 " I am no surgeon, but I infer that the same theory 
 must hold good in scalds as in burns : that your 
 pain is as favourable a symptom as his want of it 
 was unfavourable. Do not rchel at your pain again, 
 my poor fellow ; rather bear it like a man. Were I 
 scalded or burnt, I think I should be thankful for the 
 pain." 
 
 " He was burnt worse, may be, nor me, that there 
 gentleman," remarked Bigg, who had listened with 
 interest. 
 
 " Ten times worse," replied Oswald. " Yes, I 
 may say ten times worse," he emphatically repeated. 
 " Indeed, Bigg, I feel sure that yours is but a very 
 slight hurt, in comparison with what it might have 
 been : and I do not say this to you in the half-false 
 light in which one speaks to a child to soothe it, but 
 as one truthful man would speak to another." 
 
 " God bless you, sir. j\Iy heart was a-failing of 
 me sadly. Did he die, that there gentleman ? " 
 
 " He died at a week's end : but there had been
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 203 
 
 no hope of nim from the first ; and there were also 
 certain attendant circumstances in his case, apart 
 from the injury, remarkably unfavourable. In a 
 short while, Bigg, you'll be on your legs again, as 
 good man as ever. I'll ask Dr. Davenal to come and 
 have a look at you." ^ 
 
 The name of the far-famed surgeon carried assur- 
 ance in itself, and Bigg's face lighted up with eager- 
 ness. " Is Dr. Davenal here, sir V 
 " Yes. I'll go and look for him." 
 At the moment that Oswald spoke, Dr. Davenal 
 had left Lady Oswald and encountered Mr. Cray. 
 The latter, whose spirits were rather exalted that 
 night, the effect probably of finding the injuries 
 around him so slight, when he had looked out for all 
 the terrible calamities that flesh is heir to, not to 
 speak of death, stopped to speak to him of Lady 
 Oswald. And he spoke lightly. 
 
 « Well ?" You don't find her hurt, doctor?" 
 " I'll tell you more about it to-morrow, Mark." 
 Dr. Davenal' s tone was so very grave that Mark 
 Cray stared. He thought — Mark Cray almost thought 
 that there was a shade of reproof in it, meant for 
 him. 
 
 " I am sure she has no serious hurt," he ex- 
 claimed.
 
 204 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 " Well, Mark, I can say nothing positively yet. 
 In the state she is, and in this place, it is not easy to 
 ascertain : but I fear she has." 
 
 " My goodness !" cried Mark, conscious that he 
 was but the veriest tyro beside that man of skill, of 
 unerring practice, Eichard Davenal, and feeling very 
 little at the moment. "What is the hurt, sir?" he 
 asked in a loud tone. 
 
 " Hold your tongue about it," said the doctor. 
 " Time enough to proclaim it abroad when the fact 
 has been ascertained that there is one." 
 
 Oswald Cray came up, having distinguished the 
 doctor in the moonlight. 
 
 *' I wish you'd come and look at a poor fellow. Dr. 
 Davenal, who wants a word of cheering. A word of 
 such from you, you know, sends the spirits up. You 
 should have seen the man's face ligliten when I said 
 you were here." 
 
 "Who is it?" asked the doctor, turning off with 
 alacrity. 
 
 " Poor Bigg the fireman. You know him, I dare 
 say. He is badly scalded and bruised." 
 
 " Oh, his hurts are nothing," slightingly spoke 
 ]\Iark Cray. " He seems just one of those groaners 
 who cry out at a touch of pain." 
 
 *' JSIark," said the doctor, stopping, " allow me to
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 205 
 
 tender you a word of advice — do not fall into that, 
 by some, professed to be entertained idea, that no- 
 body can, or ought, to feel pain ; or, if they feel it, 
 that they ought not to show it. It is unnatural, 
 untruthful ; and to my mind, particularly unbecom- 
 ing in a medical man. Pain to some natures is all 
 but an impossibility to bear ; it is all that can be 
 imagined of agony ; it is as if every moment of its 
 endurance were that of death. The nervous organi- 
 sation is so sensitively delicate, that even a touch of 
 pain, as you express it, which most people would 
 scarcely feel, would certainly not cry out over, is to 
 them the acutest suffering. As a surgeon and anato- 
 mist you ought to know this.^ 
 
 "He's only a fireman," returned Mark. "No- 
 body expects those rough fellows to be sensitive to 
 pain." 
 
 " Let him be a fireman or a waterman, he will 
 feel it as I describe, be his frame thus sensitively or- 
 ganised," was the reply of Dr. Davenal, spoken firmly, 
 if not sternly. " What has a man's condition in life 
 to do with it.? It won't change his physical nature. 
 A duke, sleeping on a bed of down, nurtured in re- 
 finement and luxury, may be so constituted that pain 
 will be a mere flea-bite to him ; should he be destined 
 to endure the worst that's known to earth, he will, so
 
 206 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 to say, hardly feel it : whereas this poor JBreman, in- 
 ured to hard usage, to labour and privation, may be 
 literally almost unable to bear it. For my own part, 
 when I have to witness this distressing sensibility to 
 pain, perhaps have to inflict it as a surgical necessity, 
 I sufifer half as much as the patient does, for I know 
 what it is for him. Don't affect to ridicule pain 
 again, Mark." 
 
 Mark Cray looked vexed, annoyed. But every 
 syllable that had fallen from Dr. Davenal's lips had 
 found its echo in the heart of Oswald Cray. If there 
 was one quality he admired beyond all else, it was 
 sincere open truthfulness : and to Oswald's mind there 
 was an affectation, a want of sincerity, in the mock- 
 ing expressions, the shallow opinions, so much in 
 fashion in the present day. There had been a hollow 
 carelessness in Mark's tone when he ridiculed the no- 
 tion of the poor stoker's possessing a sensitiveness to 
 pain, just as if the man had no onght to possess it. 
 
 " Well, Bigg, and so you must get tossed in this 
 upset!'' began the doctor cheerily. "Oh! you'll do 
 well, by the look of your face ; we shall soon have 
 you on the engine again. Let's get a sight of this 
 grand damage. Who has got a lantern ?" 
 
 It was a bad scald ; a shocking scald ; there was 
 no question of it ; and there was much injury by
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 207 
 
 bruises ; but Dr. Davenal spoke tbe simple truth 
 when he assured the man that the hurts were not 
 dangerous. 
 
 " Keep up your heart, Bigg. In an hour's time 
 you will be in the infirmary, properly attended to. 
 You'll soon get over this." 
 
 " I dun know as I can live through the pain, sir," 
 was the wailing answer. 
 
 " Ay, it's bad. But when we have got the proper 
 remedies on, you won't feel it as you do now. Bigg, 
 I once scalded my leg badly — at least somebody did 
 it for me — and I remember the pain to this day ; so, 
 my poor fellow, I can tell what yours is." 
 
 "Mr. Cray said, sir, I oughtn't to feel no pain 
 from a hurt like this, he did. It sounded hard like, 
 for the pain is awful." 
 
 " Mr. Cray knows you would be better if you tried 
 not to feel the pain, not to feel it so acutely. He is 
 a doctor, you know. Bigg, and sees worse hurts than 
 yours every day of his life." 
 
 " I'd like to ask you, sir, when I shall be well — 
 if you can tell me. I have got a wife and children, 
 sir ; and she's sick just now, and can't work for 'em." 
 
 "We'll get you up again in three weeks," said Dr. 
 Davenal cheerily, as he hastened away to another 
 sufferer, groaning at a distance.
 
 208 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 The term seemed long to the man : almost to 
 startle him : he was thinking of his helpless wife and 
 children. 
 
 '* Three weeks ! " he repeated with a moan. 
 " Three weeks, and nobody to help 'em, and me laid 
 down incapable ! " 
 
 *' Think how much worse it might be, Bigg!" said 
 Mr. Oswald Cray, wishing to get the man to look at 
 his misfortune in a more cheerful spirit. " Suppose 
 Dr. Davenal had said three months ?" 
 
 " Then, as good he'd said, sir, as I should never 
 be up again." 
 
 " Do you think so ? I don't. It is a long while 
 to be confined by illness, three months, and to you 
 it seems, no doubt, very long indeed ; but it is not 
 so much out of a man's life. I knew one who was 
 ill for three years, and got up again. That would 
 be worse, Bigg." 
 
 '*Ay, sir, it would be. I haven't got just my 
 right thoughts to-night, what with the pain that's 
 racking me, and what with trouble about my wife 
 and little 'uns." 
 
 "Don't trouble about them. Bigg," was the con- 
 siderate answer. " They shall be taken care of until 
 you can work for them again. If the company don't 
 do it, I will."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 209 
 
 A short while longer of confusion, of hasty 
 clearance of the line, of soothing medical aid, — such 
 aid as could be given in that inconvenient spot, 
 where there was only the open bare ground for the 
 sufferers to lie on, the moonlit sky to cover them, — 
 and the return to Hallingham was organised. The 
 injured were lifted into the carriages and placed as 
 well as circumstances permitted. Lady Oswald, who 
 shrieked out much when they raised her, was laid at 
 full length on a pile of rugs collected from the first- 
 class compartments, and the engine started with its 
 load, and steamed gently onwards. 
 
 , It appeared afterwards that the accident had been 
 caused by the snapping of some part of the machinery 
 of the engine. It was a very unusual occurrence, and 
 could neither have been foreseen nor prevented. 
 
 The expectant crowd had not dispersed when Hal- 
 lingham was reached. Nay, it had considerably in- 
 creased. Even Miss Bettina Davenal retained her 
 post, and Sara and Caroline were with her. 
 
 The invalid train — it might surely be called one 
 in a double sense — came slowly into the station. The 
 platform had been cleared ; none were allowed upon 
 it to obstruct the removal of the sufferers from the 
 train to the conveyances that waited, in which they 
 would be transported to their homes, or to the infir- 
 I K 2
 
 210 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 mary, as the case might be. But, if the platform was 
 denied them, the excited watchers made up for the 
 discourtesy by blocking up the road and doors out- 
 side — a motley group, picturesque enough in the fine 
 moonlight night. 
 
 Dr. Davenal, Mr. Cray, and the other medical 
 men were occupied in superintending the removal of 
 their patients, but Mr. Oswald Cray found his way to 
 Miss Davenal, and gave them the good news that the 
 injuries were comparatively slight. A train for Lon- 
 don was on the point of starting, and he was going by 
 it. He contrived to obtain a few words with Sara, 
 and she went with him on to the platform. 
 
 " I wish I could have remained over to-morrow," 
 he observ^ed to her. " I should like to see and hear 
 how all these poor people get on." 
 
 "Are you sure you cannot remain?" 
 
 " I am sure that I ought not. You have heard 
 me speak of Frank Allister, Sara?" 
 
 '' Often. The young Scotchman who was with 
 you at Bracknell and Street's for so many years." 
 
 ** We were articled together. He has become very 
 ill lately, and — and the firm has not behaved quite 
 well to him. I have no voice in that part of its 
 economy, or it should never have been." 
 
 '' What did they do ?" inquired Sara.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 211 
 
 " He has not got on as I have. Still he held a 
 tolerably fair post in the house ; but his health 
 failed, and he had to absent himself Mr. Street 
 found out how ill he was, came to the conclusion 
 that he'd be of no use to us again, and wrote him 
 his dismissal. I thought it very hard ; and he — 
 
 he " 
 
 *' Yes !" said Sara, eagerly interested. 
 " He found it harder than he could bear. It put 
 the finishing stroke to his illness, and I don't think 
 he will rally. He has no relatives near, few friends, 
 so I see him all I can, and I gave him a faithful pro- 
 mise to spend to-morrow with him. Time's up, and 
 the guard's impatient, I see." 
 
 " Does the guard know you are going ?" 
 " Yes. Don't you see him looking round for me ? 
 Fare you well, Sara. I may be down again in a day 
 or two.^ 
 
 He had taken her hands for a moment in both his 
 as he stood before her. 
 
 " I trust you will get safe to town !" she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " Aye, indeed ! This night has proved to us that 
 safety lies not with ourselves. God bless you, my 
 dearest 1 " 
 
 He crossed the platform and stepped into th(i
 
 212 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 carriage, which the guard was holding open. The next 
 moment the train was steaming out of the station, 
 Sara Davenal looking after it with a lingering look, a 
 heart at rest, as that sweet word of endearment rang 
 its echoes on her ear.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A WHIM OF LADY OSWALD'S. 
 
 The medical body, as a whole, is differently esti- 
 mated by the world. Some look down upon it, others 
 look up to it ; and their own position in the scale of 
 society has no bearing or bias on the views of the 
 estimators. It may be that a nobleman will bow to 
 tlie worth and value of the physician, will regard him 
 as a benefactor of mankind, exercising that calling of 
 all others most important to the welfare of humanity ; 
 while a man very far down in the world's social lad- 
 der will despise the doctor wherever he sees him. 
 
 It is possible that each has in a degree cause for 
 this, so far as he judges by his own experience. The 
 one may have been brought in contact with that per- 
 fect surgeon — and there are many such — whose pecu- 
 liar gifts for the calling were bestowed upon him by 
 the Divine will ; he with the lion's heart and woman's 
 hand, whose success, born of patience, courage, judg- 
 ment, experience, has become by God's blessing an
 
 214 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 assured fact. Men who have brought all the grand 
 discoveries of earthly science to their aid and help in 
 their study of the art ; who have watched Nature day 
 by day, and mastered her intricacies ; who have, in 
 fact, attained to that perfection in skill which induces 
 the involuntary remark to break from us — We shall 
 never see his fellow ! Before such a man as this, as I 
 look upon it, the world should bow. We have no 
 benefactor like unto him. The highest honours of 
 the land should be open to him ; all that we can give 
 of respect and admiration should be his. 
 
 But there is a reverse side to the picture. There 
 is the man who has gone into the profession without 
 aptitude for it, who has made it his, although positively 
 incapable of properly learning it and exercising it. 
 He may have acquired the right to use all the empty 
 distinguishing letters attaching to it, and tack them 
 after his name on all convenient occasions, inscribe 
 them in staring characters on his very door-posts — 
 M..D., M.RC.S. — as many more as there may be to 
 get ; but, for all that, he is not capable of exercising 
 the art. His whole career is one terrible mistake. 
 He kills more patients than he cures ; slaying them, 
 drenching them to death, with that most pitiful and 
 fatal of all weapons — ignorance. It may not be his 
 fault, in one sense : he does his best : but he has em-
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 215 
 
 braced a calling for which nature did not fit him. 
 He goes on in his career, it is true, and his poor 
 patients suffer. More ignorant, of necessity, than he 
 is — for in all that relates to the healing art, we are, 
 take us as a whole, lamentably deficient — they can 
 only blindly resign themselves to his hands, and 
 when they find that there's no restored health for 
 them, that they get worse rather than better, they 
 blame the obstinacy of the malady, not the treatment. 
 Upon his own mind, meanwhile, there rests an ever- 
 perpetual sense of failure, irritating his temper, ren- 
 dering his treatment experimental and uncertain. 
 Some cannot see where the fault lies — have no con- 
 ception that it is in their own incapacity. And if a 
 man does see it, what then ? He must go on and do 
 his best ; he must be a doctor always ; it is his only 
 means of living, and he is too old to take to another 
 trade. Eely upon it there are more of these prac- 
 titioners than the world suspects. 
 
 Such a man as the first was Dr. Davenal ; such a 
 man as the last was Mark Cray. But that Mark was 
 so Dr. Davenal suspected not. Grave cases hitherto, 
 during their short connection, had been treated by 
 the doctor, and for ordinary ailments Mark did well 
 enough. He could write a proper prescription when 
 the liver was out of order, or bring a child through
 
 216 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 the measles ; lie could treat old ladies with fanciful 
 ailments to the very acme of perfection. It is true 
 Dr. Davenal had been once or twice rather surprised 
 by downright wrong treatment on the part of Mark, 
 but he had attributed it to inexperience. 
 
 When other doctors could not cure, people flew to 
 Dr. Davenal ; when there was a critical operation to 
 be performed, involving Hfe or death, Dr. Davenal was 
 prayed to undertake it. His practice consequently 
 was of wide extent ; it was 'not confined to HaUing- 
 ham and its vicinity, but extended occasionally to the 
 confines of the county. It was not, therefore, surpris- 
 ing that on the morning following the accident Dr. 
 Davenal found himself called out at an early hour to 
 the country on a case of dangerous emergency. And 
 the illness was at Thorndyke. 
 
 He responded at once to the call. Never a 
 prompter man than Eichard Davenal. Eoger had 
 learnt by example to be prompt also, and was ready 
 with his carriage as soon as his master. The arrange- 
 ments with regard to saving time were well organised 
 at Dr. Davenal's. The bell, communicating from the 
 house down the side-wall of the garden to the man's 
 rooms near the stables, was made the means of con- 
 veying different orders. If rung once, Eoger was 
 wanted in-doors to receive his orders by word of
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 21 7 
 
 mouth; if rung twice — and on those occasions they were 
 always sharp, imperative peals — Eoger knew that the 
 carriage was wanted at once, with all the speed that 
 he could get it round. 
 
 The calm peaceful quiet of the Sahbath morn was 
 lying on the streets of Hallingham as the doctor was 
 driven through them. The shops were all shut ; some 
 of the private houses were not yet opened — servants 
 are apt to lie late on Sunday morning. As they 
 passed the town-hall and the market-place, so void of 
 life then, the church clocks struck eight, and the cus- 
 tomary bells, giving token of the future services of 
 the day, broke forth in the clear air. 
 
 " Stop at the abbey, Eoger," said the doctor, as 
 they neared it. 
 
 The w^oman, Dorcas, was just opening the parlour 
 shutters. She came to the door when she saw the 
 carriage drawing up to it. 
 
 " I want to see your master, Dorcas. I suppose 
 he's up." 
 
 " He is up and out, sir," was her reply. " He 
 has been gone about five minutes." 
 
 This answer caused the doctor to pause. It 
 
 should be explained that when the train of sufferers 
 
 arrived at the station the previous night. Lady 
 
 Oswald had elected to be accompanied to her home 
 
 I L
 
 218 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 by Mark Cray, not by Dr. Davenal. Wbetlier she 
 was actuated by pure caprice ; whether by a better 
 motive — the belief that she was not hurt so much as 
 some other of the sufferers, and that Dr. Davenal's 
 skill would be more needed by them ; or whether 
 the recent sudden liking she had taken for Mr. Cray 
 swayed her then, could not be told ; never would 
 be told. She seemed to be a little revived at the 
 end of the journey, and she chose that Mark Cray 
 should go home with her. Dr. Davenal had ac- 
 quiesced, but he whispered a parting word to Mark. 
 " If there is an injury, I suspect it will be found in 
 the ribs, Mark. Look well to it. If you want me, 
 I am going on to the infirmary, and shall be at 
 home afterwards/' 
 
 But, as it appeared, the doctor had not been 
 wanted. At any rate, Mark Cray had not sent for 
 him. And he had stopped now to hear, if he could, 
 Mark's report. 
 
 An upper window opened, and Mrs. Cray, com- 
 pletely enveloped in a thick shawl, so that nothing 
 could be seen of her but the tip of her nose, leaned 
 out. 
 
 " Good-morning, Uncle Richard." 
 
 " Good-morning, my dear. I am glad to see you 
 again. Can you come down for a minute ?"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 219 
 
 " iSTo, I have not begun to dress. Did you want 
 Mark ? He has gone to Lady Oswald's." 
 
 " Ah, that's what I wish to ask about. Did you 
 hear Mark say how she was ? — whether there was 
 any hurt?" 
 
 " He said there was not. But, for one thing, she 
 kept fainting, and refused to be touched. At least, 
 I think he said so, something of that ; 1 was very 
 sleepy when he got home ; it was one o'clock. I 
 am sure he said she was not hurt to speak of." 
 
 *' That's all right then," said Dr. Davenal. 
 
 " You are out betimes, Uncle Eichard," resumed 
 Caroline. " Are you going far ?" 
 
 " To Thorndyke. TeU your husband he must 
 see my patients this morning, I shall not be back in 
 time. Drive on, Eoger." 
 
 "Very w^ell," said Caroline. "Who's ill at 
 Thorndyke ?" 
 
 But Dr. Davenal's answer, if he gave one, was 
 lost in the distance, and never reached Caroline's 
 ear. 
 
 It was a singular coincidence — as was said by 
 gossips afterwards — that one should be taken ill 
 that day at Thorndyke and be in danger of death. 
 It was not, however, one of the Oswald family, but 
 a visitor of Sir Philip's, and it has nothing whatever
 
 220 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 to do with tlie story. It need not Lave "been men- 
 tioned, save to explain what took Dr. Davenal from 
 Hallingham on that critical day. 
 
 Dr. Davenal found the patient alarmingly ill, in 
 great need of medical help, and he had to remain at 
 Thorndyke some hours. It was between two and 
 three o'clock when he got back to Hallingham, and 
 he ordered Eoger to drive at once to the infirmary. 
 
 The doctor went in and saw his patients. The 
 poor man, Bigg, easier now than he had been the 
 previous night, lay in a slumber : the rest were going 
 on well. One woman had gone. An inmate of the 
 wards for some weeks past, her case, a very painful one, 
 had baffled aU skiU, all remedy ; and she had gone 
 to that better place where sickness and pain cannot 
 enter. Dr. Davenal stood for some little time convers- 
 ing with the house-surgeon, and then departed on foot 
 to his home : he had dismissed his carriage when he 
 entered the infirmary. 
 
 As he was walking, he met an eager little fellow 
 scuffling along, one who always walked very fast, 
 with his head pushed out, as if he were in a desperate 
 hurry. It was one of the infirmary pupils, as they 
 were called ; young men gathering skill and experi- 
 ence to become in time surgeons themselves, who 
 attended the infirmary with their masters. This one,
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 221 
 
 Julius Wild, a youth of eigliteen, ^yas more par- 
 ticularly attached to the service of Mr. Cray, went 
 round the wards with him as his dresser, and suchlike. 
 No sooner did he see Dr. Davenal than his pace in- 
 creased to a run, and he came up breathless. 
 
 " Oh, if you please, sir, Mr. Cray has been looking 
 for you everywhere " 
 
 *'I have been to Thorndyke," interrupted the 
 doctor. 
 
 "Yes, sir, but he thought you must have come 
 back, and he sent me to about twenty places to in- 
 quire. There's something wrong with Lady Oswald, 
 sir, and he wants to see you about it." 
 . "What is it that's wrong?" 
 
 " Mr. Cray didn't explain to me, sir ; but he said 
 something about an operation. She's hurt internally, 
 sir, I tliink." 
 
 " Where is Mr. Cray ? Do you know ? " 
 
 " He is gone to your house, sir. Somebody told 
 him they saw your carriage going along, and Mr. Cray 
 thought you might be at home. He" 
 
 Dr. Davenal waited to hear no more. He made 
 the best of his way towards home, but before he 
 reached it he met Mark Cray. 
 
 There, in the street, particulars were explained by 
 Mr. Cray to Dr. Davenal, not altogether to the doc-
 
 222 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 tor's satisfaction. It appeared tliat Mark — very 
 carelessly, but he excused himself on the plea of 
 Lady Oswald's fractious refusal to be touched — ^liad 
 omitted to make a proper examination of her state on 
 the previous night. The delay, though not fatal, was 
 inexpedient, rendering the operation which must now 
 be performed one of more difficulty than if it had 
 been done at once ; and Dr. Davenal spoke a few 
 sharp words, the only sharp ones he had ever in his 
 life spoken to Mark Cray. 
 
 " I told you it was my opinion there was some 
 internal injury. You ought to have ascertained." 
 
 He turned his steps and proceeded at once and 
 alone to the house of Lady Oswald. She was in a 
 grievous state of suffering ; and that she had not ap- 
 peared so on the previous night could only be attri- 
 buted to partial insensibility. Dr. Davenal examined 
 into her hurts with his practised skill, his gentle 
 fingers, and he imparted to her as soothingly as pos- 
 sible the fact that an operation was indispensable. 
 "Not a very grave one," he said with a smile, in- 
 tended to reassure. "Nothing formidable, like the 
 taking off of an arm or a leg." 
 
 But Lady Oswald refused her consent ; as frac- 
 tiously and positively as she had the previous night 
 refused to be touched. She would have no operation
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 223 
 
 performed on her, she said, putting her to torture ; 
 they must cure her without it. Some time was lost 
 in this unsatisfactory manner, and Mark Cray arrived 
 while the contention was going on. Dr. Davenal 
 was at length obliged to tell her a hard truth — that 
 unless she submitted to it, her life must fall a 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Then there came another phase of the obstinacy. 
 When people are lying in the critical state that was 
 Lady Oswald, hovering between life and death, it is 
 surely unseemly to indulge in whims, in moods of 
 childish caprice. If ever there is a time in the career 
 of life that truth should reign pre-eminent, it is then : 
 and these wilful caprices are born of a phase of feel- 
 ing that surely cannot be called truth. Lady Oswald 
 consented to the operation, but only on the condition 
 that Mark Cray should perform it. What foolish 
 caprice may have prompted this, it is impossible to 
 say. Mark had been talking to her, very much as he 
 would talk to a child to induce it to have a tooth 
 drawn or a cut finger dressed : protesting that it 
 " would not hurt her to speak of," that it " would be 
 over, so to say, in no time." Dr. Davenal, more 
 honest, held his tongue upon those points : it would 
 not be over in ** no time," and he knew that it would 
 hurt her very much indeed. This it may have been
 
 224 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 that caused the wretched whim to arise, that Mark 
 Cray should be the acting surgeou. And she held 
 to it. 
 
 It was necessary that she should be allowed 
 some repose after the state of excitement to which 
 she had put herself, and half-past five was the hour 
 named. Dr. Davenal and Mark appointed to be with 
 her then. 
 
 "Mark," asked the doctor, as they walked away 
 together, "are you sure of yourself ?" 
 
 Dr. Davenal had had no experience hitherto of 
 Mark Cray's skill as a surgeon, except in common 
 cases. All critical operations, both at the infirmary 
 and in private practice, the doctor took himself. 
 Mark looked at the doctor in surprise as he beard 
 the question. 
 
 " Sure ! Why, of course I am. It's quite a simple 
 thing, this." 
 
 " Simple enough where the hand is experienced 
 and sure," remarked the doctor. "Not so simple 
 where it is not." 
 
 " Of course I have not had your experience, Dr. 
 Davenal ; but I have had quite sufficient to ensure 
 my accomplishing this, perhaps as skiKully as you 
 could." 
 
 Mark spoke in a resentful tone ; he did not like
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 225 
 
 tlie reflection that he thought was cast upon him by 
 the question. Dr. Davenal said no more. He sup- 
 posed Mark was sure of his hand's skill. 
 
 " I shall give her chloroform," resumed Mark. 
 
 " Xo !" burst forth Dr. Davenal. He could not 
 have interrupted more impetuously had he been in- 
 terposing to dash it from her lips. He believed that 
 Lady Oswald would be a very unfit subject for 
 chloroform : one of those few to whom it is not safe 
 to administer it ; and he explained this to Mark 
 Cray. 
 
 Mark turned restive. Strange to say, he, who had 
 hitherto been content to follow in the medical steps 
 of Dr. Davenal, watching his treatment, pursuing the 
 same, more as a pupil takes lessons of a master, than 
 as a man in practice for himself, seemed inclined to 
 turn restive now. Did Mark Cray, because he had 
 married the doctor's niece, had become connected 
 with him by private ties, was now a more equal 
 partner, fully recognised — did he deem it well to 
 exercise that right of independence which we all 
 love, for it is inherent in the hearts of the best of 
 us, and to stand up for his own ways and his own 
 will ? 
 
 " I like chloroform," he said. " I consider it one 
 of the most blessed inventions of the age."
 
 226 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; where it can be safely used." 
 
 " I have used it fifty times," rejoined Mark. 
 
 " I have used it fifty and fifty to that," said the 
 doctor, good-humouredly. " But, Mark, I never used 
 it in my life upon a doubtful subject, and I never 
 will use it upon one." 
 
 " What do you call a doubtful subject?" 
 
 " What do I call a doubtful subject ?" repeated 
 the doctor. " You know as well as I. How many 
 patients has chloroform killed ? Upon certain na- 
 tures " 
 
 " Very few," interrupted Llark. 
 
 " Very few, as compared to the whole," acquiesced 
 the doctor. "You may administer chloroform with 
 perfect safety to ninety-nine patients, and you cannot 
 to the hundredth. Upon certain natures, as I was 
 about to observe, its effects may be fataL And where 
 there is this doubt, Mark, it should be acted upon." 
 
 " The cases are so rare." 
 
 " True. And the important thing for a medical 
 man, in these cases, is to discern where chloroform 
 may be given with safety and where it may not." 
 
 " It is impossible that he can do that with any 
 certainty." 
 
 " Not at all," said Dr. Davenal. '' I never knew 
 my judgment fail. I believe it is a gift, this ability
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 227 
 
 to distinguish the subtle difiference in natures. Per- 
 haps I may call it instinct, more than judgment, for I 
 think it could not deceive or lead me to an erroneous 
 decision." 
 
 " I am not sure that I understand you," said Mr. 
 Cray. " My belief is, that I possess nothing of the 
 sort. I think you must be talking of a species of 
 second sight." 
 
 "Then, Mark," was the half-joking answer, " allow 
 yourself to be guided by my ' second sight/ To speak 
 seriously," the doctor continued, in a graver tone, " I 
 know that there are many practitioners, clever men, 
 who do not possess this peculiar insight into nature. 
 It is a great gift for those who do. It can never be 
 acquired by practice ; it must be inherent " 
 
 " I suppose you think I don't possess it," inter- 
 rupted Mark. 
 
 " I don't think you do. But for one of us who 
 possesses it, numbers don't ; so it is no disparagement 
 to you to say so. To return to the question : Lady 
 Oswald, in my opinion, would prove an unsafe sub- 
 ject for chloroform." 
 
 *' She will make so much of the pain." 
 
 "Better that she should make much of it — ay, 
 and feel it — than that any risk should be run. I can- 
 not allow chloroform to be given to Lady Oswald."
 
 228 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Mark Cray demurred : not outwardly, for he said 
 not another word ; but inw^ardly. He w^as of that 
 class of men who disbelieve what they cannot see. 
 Some of us will look into a man's face and read his 
 character, read him for what he is, as surely and 
 unerringly as w^e read the pages of a book ; but 
 others of us, wdio do not possess this gift, cannot 
 believe that it exists, laugh at and ridicule the very 
 idea of it. Just so was it with Mark Cray. That 
 assertion of Dr. Davenal's, that some faculty or 
 instinct within him enabled him to discern where 
 chloroform might and might not be administered, 
 was utterly scouted by Mark Cray. That subtle 
 instinct into nature, that unerring, rapidly formed 
 judgment of a sick man's state, the mental grasping 
 instantaneously of the disease and its remedy, Mark 
 Cray possessed not. To the very end of his life he 
 would never learn it. Dr. Da venal said that out of 
 numbers of medical men only one would possess it, 
 and he was right. How many do not possess it, 
 and go on to their career's end unconscious of their 
 deficiency, they themselves will never know. Mark 
 could see no reason why Lady Oswald should not 
 be eased of her pain by the aid of chloroform ; he 
 did not for a moment believe the doctor could ; he 
 regarded it as a crotchet, and a very foolish one.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 229 
 
 But he suffered the question to rest, and supposed 
 he must bow to the decision of his senior partner. 
 
 "Shall I call for you, Mark?" asked the doctor, 
 as they separated. " I shall go up in the carriage." 
 
 " no, thank you. I'd as soon walk. You in- 
 tend to be present ?" 
 
 " Of course I shall be," replied the doctor. " Lady 
 Oswald is my patient, in point of fact — not yours, 
 Mark." 
 
 *' Then I need not ask Berry. I thought of asking 
 him to be present." 
 
 " You can do just as you please about that. If 
 you like him to look on at you, you can have him. 
 Twenty-five minutes after five, remember, punctual. 
 You'U want the full daylight." 
 
 As they parted, a feeling was in Mark's heart 
 that he would not have liked to confess to the other, 
 and that perhaps he neither cared to encourage 
 nor to dwell upon. He felt perfectly sure of his 
 own skill, he was not nervous ; nobody less so ; and 
 yet there was a half-reluctance in his mind to per- 
 form that operation in the presence of Dr. Davenal, 
 the skilled and accomplished operator. Surely the 
 reluctance could only spring from a latent doubt of 
 whether he ought to make so sure of himself! A 
 latent doubt ; one not suffered to appear : down far in
 
 230 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 the deiDtlis of liis heart it lay — so deep that perhaps 
 Mark thought it was not there at all, that it was only 
 fancy. 
 
 He had a great deal rather have had Berry with 
 him — that he acknowledged openly enough to him- 
 self Surgeon Berry was a man of fair average skill, 
 superior to Mark in experience, and he and Mark 
 were great friends. Did Mark fear that the presence 
 of the more finished and perfect surgeon, with his 
 critical eye, his practised judgment, would render 
 him nervous — as a candidate for the Civil Service 
 examinations will break down, simply because those 
 searching eyes are on him? No, Mark Cray feared 
 nothing of the sort ; and he could not have told, 
 had he been pressed, why he would have preferred 
 the absence of Dr. Davenal. He had looked on 
 many a time at the. doctor in such cases : but that 
 was a different thing. 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted by Julius Wild. 
 The young man accosted him to inquire if there were 
 any orders — whether he should be wanted. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Cray. " Lady Oswald's case is 
 fixed for this afternoon. You be up there with the 
 dressings and things." 
 
 " Very well, sir," replied the young man, feeling 
 some surprise, for he was not in the habit of attend-
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 231 
 
 ing privately with Dr. Davenal. " Am I to go to Dr. 
 Davenal's for them?" 
 
 " No. You can get them from the infirmary." 
 '' The infirmary !" thought Julius Wild to himself. 
 ''Can he be going to take the operation?" — for Mr. 
 Cra/s surgical apparatus was kept at the infirmary. 
 He did not ask : his professional master seemed un- 
 usually silent — not to say cross. 
 
 "What time?" he inquired of Mr. Cray. 
 
 " Be at Lady Oswald's a little before half-past " 
 
 The blank above is put intentionally, for it cannot 
 be told with certainty what hour was really said by 
 Mr. Cray. In the discussions upon it that ensued 
 afterwards, Julius Wild declared in the most positive 
 manner that it was six. "A little before half-past 
 six." Mr. Cray asserted, with equal pertinacity, that 
 he had said five. "A little before half-past five." 
 Which of the two was right it was impossible to 
 ascertain. Mark Cray said he should not be likely 
 to make the mistake : the time, half-past five, had 
 been just fixed upon with Dr. Davenal, had been 
 repeated by word of mouth, and he had never thought 
 of the hour, six, at all. There was plausible reason 
 in that, certainly. On the other hand, Julius Wild 
 was known for a clear-headed, steady, accurate young 
 man, and he protested he could stake his life upon
 
 232 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 his correctness in this instance. He said the thought 
 crossed his mind, when Mr. Cray named it, that half- 
 past six would be the dusk hour ; and he rather 
 wondered within himself that it should have been 
 chosen. 
 
 However it may have been, the misapprehension 
 did occur between them. 
 
 "When Dr. Davenal entered his own home, dinner 
 had been over some time. It was their custom to 
 dine early on Sunday : and the general rule was, by 
 Dr. Davenal's wish, never to keep meals waiting for 
 him. Neal admitted him, and then came for orders. 
 Should he bring up the dinner ? 
 
 "Not the dinner," said Dr. Davenal ; "just a bit 
 of something upon a plate. I am not hungry : I had 
 a late breakfast at Thorndyke. Has anybody been 
 here for me?" 
 
 "JSTo, sir. I think Mr. Cray took your patients. 
 He has been here" 
 
 " I know all about that," interrupted the doctor. 
 
 He passed JSTeal, and went on to the garden-par- 
 lour, a favourite room of his daughter's. She was 
 there alone, seated before the open glass doors. How 
 peaceful it all looked ! The green la^vn stretching 
 out in front, the bright hues of the autumn flowers, 
 the calm purity of the dark blue sky lying in the
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 233 
 
 stillness of the Day of Eest. Sara Davenal liad that 
 good Book upon her lap : but she was not then read- 
 ing it. She had closed it in deep thought. Her 
 sweet face was turned upwards, her eyes were filled 
 with tears from the intensity of her gaze ; it seemed 
 that she was looking for something in the autumn 
 sky. The extreme calm, the aspect of peace, struck 
 forcibly on the senses of Dr. Davenal, and he remem- 
 bered it in the days to come. It was the last day of 
 peace for him ; it was the last day of peace for Sara ; 
 henceforth the world was to change for both of them. 
 Ere the morrow's sun should rise, a great care, a great 
 trouble would be tugging at their heartstrings ; a 
 skeleton would be there to keep ; a secret, that must 
 be hidden for very safety's sake, would have taken up 
 its abode there. 
 
 Dr, Davenal was upon her so quickly that she 
 could not conceal her glistening eyes. She started 
 up to welcome him, and laid down the book. Owing 
 to that most attentive habit of Neal's, of being on the 
 watch and opening the door before people could get 
 to it, she had not heard him come home. 
 
 "0 papa, is it you? You have been away a 
 long while." 
 
 " Sit down," he said, pressing her into her chair 
 again. " What's the grief, Sara ?" 
 I L 2
 
 234 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 " No grief, papa. I was only thinking." 
 
 " What about ? The accident last night ?" 
 
 " no, not that. I hear that everybody's going 
 on quite well. I was thinking — I was wondering — 
 somehow I often get thinking on these things on a 
 Sunday, when I am sitting alone, and the sky seems 
 so calm and near," she broke off. 
 
 " Well, what were you thinking V 
 
 " I was wondering whether they who are gone can 
 look down and see us — see me just as I sit here look- 
 ing up — whether they can read my thoughts ? We 
 seem so divided, papa ; you and I and Edward left : 
 mamma and Eichard, and the two little ones who 
 were between me and Edward, gone." 
 
 " Divided for a short while only, child." 
 
 "Yes, I know. The only one I can remember 
 well is Eichard. I am beginning to lose almost all 
 recollection of mamma. But Eichard — papa, at 
 times I seem to see him before me now 1" 
 
 Dr. Davenal turned to the window and stood with 
 his back to Sara, looking out. She repented having 
 spoken of her brother ; somehow the words had 
 slipped out in the fulness of her thoughts. Eising, 
 she stole her hand into Dr. Davenal's. 
 
 " I forgot, papa," she softly whispered. 
 
 "Forgot what, my child?" he asked. "Nay, it
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 235 
 
 might be just as well if we all spoke more of Eichard, 
 instead of shunning his name. Silence will not bring 
 him back to us." 
 
 «Ahno, it will not!" 
 
 "And when once griefs can be talked of, their 
 sting becomes less poignant. Did the post bring any 
 letters this morning ?" the doctor added, after a pause. 
 
 " Not for you, papa. There was one — how could 
 I forget to tell you? — there was one for me from 
 Edward." 
 
 " And what does he say 1" 
 
 " He has not been able to get leave yet. At least, 
 from the tenor of his letter, I don't much think he 
 has asked for it. He says there's a great deal to do ; 
 that the preparations are going on very quickly ; but 
 no orders have been received yet as to the day for 
 embarking. As soon as they are issued he will let us 
 know." 
 
 "But he means to come down?" 
 
 *' yes. He will be sure to come, he says, 
 though it should be to arrive by one train and return 
 by the next. He writes in great spirits, and asks me 
 — in a joke you know, papa — if I will pack up my 
 boxes and go out with him." 
 
 « He What is it, Neal ? My dinner ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. It is served."
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 Evening came, and Lady Oswald's house was pre- 
 pared for wliat was going to take place. Dr. Davenal 
 arrived ratlier before the time appointed, Mr. Cray five 
 minutes after it. Mr. Cray was in a heat, and had 
 evidently come at much speed, conscious probably 
 that the time had expired. Lady Oswald was in her 
 bed-chamber when Mr. Cray came up, Dr. Davenal 
 in the ante-chamber. 
 
 "Where's Wild?" exclaimed Mr. Cray, throwing 
 his eyes round the room. 
 
 " I have not seen him," replied the doctor. 
 
 " It is very inattentive of him not to be here. I 
 told him the hour. Have you seen her ?" added Mr. 
 Cray, in a whisper. 
 
 " Yes. She is all right. Are you ready ?" 
 
 " No, I am not ready," replied Mr. Cray. " Wild 
 is bringing up the dressings." 
 
 " I have everything with me," said Dr. Davenal. 
 " I have brought all."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 237 
 
 In the room with Lady Oswald was her maid, 
 Parkins. And the very moment that Dr. Davenal 
 set his eyes on Parkins's ashy pale face, he knew 
 that she would be better out of the room than in it. 
 He said something to the effect, but Lady Oswald 
 evidently wished for her, and Parkins avowed her 
 intention of being as brave as need be. 
 
 Time was being wasted. Marcus Cray, in a 
 fidgety sort of manner, went down twice after his 
 expected pupil. He opened the hall-door and stood 
 there looking out for him ; and he did this twice 
 over, for no sooner did he get up stairs the first 
 time than he went back again. Dr. Davenal could 
 not exactly make him out. Mr. Wild was not 
 required in any way ; and a haK doubt stole over 
 Dr. Davenal whether Mark Cray could be wilfully 
 prolonging the minutes, as people will put off things 
 they do not care to enter upon, from nervousness, 
 dislike, or other causes. And, though he threw the 
 doubt from him as an absurd improbability, he began 
 to wish again to be the operator. 
 
 " Cray, I had better take this." 
 
 Mark fired up, and spoke out at the top of his 
 voice. He would prefer to take it himseK, Dr. Da- 
 venal permitting him. 
 
 Spoke out so loud that he was heard by Lady Os-
 
 238 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 wald. Slie interrupted the discussion — if discussion 
 it might be called — and settled it. "It should be 
 only done by Mr. Cray." 
 
 " Very well," said Dr. Davenal in a low tone to 
 his partner. "Be it so. But why do you wait, 
 Mark?" 
 
 " I want that fellow to be here." 
 
 " He is not required. We shall have Lady Os- 
 wald get exhausted." 
 
 And Mark Cray, seeing the wisdom of the plea, 
 made no further delay. 
 
 You will not wish to be present at this operation, 
 or to have its details transcribed. Hallingham did 
 not know them for many a long day. But one or two 
 things must be mentioned. 
 
 At the very instant of its commencement, when 
 Mark Cray was bending over Lady Oswald, there 
 came something falling forward to the ground and 
 brushed against him. It was brave Parkins, gone 
 down in a fainting fit. Lady Oswald became agi- 
 tated ; she shrieked out, and would have risen had it 
 been in her power. Dr. Davenal moved round, and 
 bore the senseless Parkins from the rooms. 
 
 He could not throw her down outside like a log. 
 He had to call some of the household and tell them 
 what to do with her. Then she began to start and
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 230 
 
 kick in incipient convulsions : altogether it was three 
 or four minutes before Dr. Davenal got back to the 
 room. It seemed to be delay after delay, as if the 
 operation was fated not to be begun that day. 
 
 The operation, however, was begun, he found. 
 AVhen he got back, Mark had plunged into it. Dr. 
 Davenal stepped up to him, and stood overlooking 
 him with his unerring eye ; that eye which Mark 
 had dreaded. 
 
 Was it in consequence of that, that Mark Cray 
 lost — what shall we call it ? — his presence of mind ? 
 — his surgical skill? A suppressed sound, half in- 
 dignation, half dismay, escaped the lips of Dr. Dave- 
 nal, and he pushed Mark aside with an authorita- 
 tive hand and took his place. What could have 
 taken Mark ? — what ailed him ? Lady Oswald was 
 offering no opposition, for she lay perfectly still. 
 
 So still, so voiceless, that in the midst of liis 
 work it struck strangely on the senses of Dr. Dave- 
 nal. He paused a moment to regard her attentively, 
 and then glanced at Mark, one single word only es- 
 caping him. 
 
 "Chloroform?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mark. '' I judged it best." 
 
 It was all that passed. Whatever Dr. Davenal 
 may have felt, he could express neither doubt nor
 
 240 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 remonstrance then. His whole attention had to be 
 concentrated on the work he was performing. Mark 
 stood by and watched, saying nothing. 
 
 At length it was over ; admirably performed, as 
 all operations were performed, undertaken by Dr. 
 DavenaL But Lady Oswald still lay without sense 
 or motion ; and they could not arouse her. 
 
 *' You must have given her a great deal," observed 
 Dr. Davenal, who was still occupied. 
 
 Which ]\Iark Cray did not attempt to deny. " She 
 required it. The fall of that stupid woman excited 
 her terribly. The first lot made no impression on her : 
 she did not seem to inhale it." 
 
 " But — good heavens ! you could not have waited 
 long enough to see. Mark Cray, this is a mistake, 
 and an awful one." 
 
 Mark made no reply. Mark was doing all in his 
 power to undo his work and arouse Lady Oswald. 
 But he could not. Dr. Davenal touched his shoulder, 
 and spoke upon a different subject. 
 
 " You told me you were sure of yourself." 
 
 Mark scarcely knew what he answered. Some- 
 thing to the effect that he always had been sure, until 
 now : but his words were very indistinct. 
 
 " What incapacity came over you ? What was its 
 cause?"
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 241 
 
 It was impossible for ]\Iark Cray to deny that 
 incapacity had attacked him ; that Lady Oswald 
 under his hands would have been in the greatest 
 danger. Its cause he could not account for : but that 
 common expression, "losing all presence of mind," 
 would best describe it as it really was, and as it had 
 appeared to Dr. Davenal. The drops of sweat stood 
 out on his brow now as large as peas. 
 
 " The woman's fall startled me," he attempted to 
 say. " At such a moment it takes but little to un- 
 nerve a man." 
 
 " Then, if so, he is not fit for a surgeon," returned 
 Dr. Davenal. " Mark Cray," he continued, gravely 
 and firmly, but not unkindly, " you must never in 
 my presence attempt a critical operation again. Ee- 
 coUect that." 
 
 Meanwhile their whole attention was being given 
 to Lady Oswald ; their best efforts exerted to arouse 
 her from the effects of the chloroform. All in A^ain, 
 all useless ; it had done its work too effectually. 
 
 By degrees, the horror of the conviction, that she 
 could not be aroused — never more would be aroused 
 — came pressing upon them deeper and deeper. Mark 
 Cray wiped his hot face, and felt that he would give 
 all he was worth to recall that one act of liis — the 
 surreptitiously conveying the chloroform to the house, 
 
 I M
 
 242 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 which he had himself so successfully accomplished, 
 and regarded as a cause of self-congratulation. Wliy 
 had he not attended to the experienced opinion of 
 Dr. Davenal — that Lady Oswald was one of those 
 upon whom chloroform was not unlikely to be fatal ? 
 That it would be fatal in this case, Mark felt as certain 
 oiow as if the breath had actually passed for ever 
 from her body. A horrible fear came over him, and he 
 once more lost all cahnness, all self-possession. 
 
 " Dr. Davenal, for the love of God, do not betray 
 me ! Do not let it go forth to the world as my wilful 
 act — one you warned me against. It was a dreadful 
 mistake. I shall carry it about with me in my heart 
 for ever ; but do not betray me to the world !" 
 
 He had seized the doctor's hands, and was press- 
 ing them nervously in his. His troubled face gazed 
 imploringly upwards ; his wailing tone of repentance 
 struck sadly on the ear. Dr. Davenal did not imme- 
 diately speak, and ^lark Cray resumed. 
 
 " For Caroline's sake," he entreated. " If this mis- 
 take becomes known in all its unhappy details, my 
 professional doom is sealed. Xever again, so long as 
 I live, as you and I are together, will I attempt to act 
 on my opinion in opposition to yours. Be merciful 
 to us. Dr. Davenal, and, for her and my sake, conceal 
 it from the condemning world !"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 243 
 
 And Dr. Davenal yielded. Ever merciful, ever 
 striving to act in accordance with those great pre- 
 cepts of love and mercy which One came down 
 eighteen hundred years ago to teach, he yielded to 
 the prayer of the unhappy and agitated man before 
 him. His own partner ; Caroline's husband — no, he 
 could not, would not, bring upon him the obloquy of 
 the world. 
 
 " I will keep the secret, Mark Cray. Be easy. 
 You have my promise." 
 
 The unhappy tidings were made known to the 
 household — that their mistress could not yet be 
 aroused from the effect of the chloroform which had 
 been administered with a view of saving her pain ; 
 and they came flocking in. She was not dead ; but 
 she was lying still and motionless : and the means 
 for recalling life went on. Mark Cray continued 
 his efforts when all hope was gone, trying every 
 means, probable and improbable, in his madness. 
 Had a battery been at hand he would have essayed 
 galvanism. 
 
 Alas ! they might as well have sought to arouse a 
 stone statue. Never more would there be any arous- 
 ing for poor 'Lady Oswald in this world. Death was 
 claiming her : uncompromising, not-to-be-denied death ! 
 
 Parkins, considerably recovered from her own at-
 
 244 OS^YALD CEAY. 
 
 tack, but in a shaky and tearful state, had come into 
 the room with the rest. Parkins seemed inclined to 
 rebel at the state of things ; to question everybody, 
 to cast blame somewhere. 
 
 " Wiij should chloroform have been given to her?" 
 she asked of Mr. Cray. 
 
 " It was given with a view to deaden the pain," 
 was Mark's short answer. 
 
 " But, sir, the operation was all but begun, if not 
 begun, when I — when I — fainted : and there had been 
 no question then of giving her chloroform." 
 
 " Ko, and it was your fainting that did three parts 
 of the mischief," savagely returned Mr. Cray, who felt 
 it the greatest relief to be able to lay the blame upon 
 somebody. " It put her into a most undesirable state 
 of agitation. I should think you must have heard 
 her shriek, in spite of your fainting fit." 
 
 The words, the angry tone, completely did for 
 Parkins, and she subsided into tears again. A few 
 minutes, and Dr. Davenal turned from the ill-fated 
 lady to her serv^ants standing there. 
 
 " It is all over. She is gone." 
 
 And the doctor looked at his watch, and found 
 that only one poor hour had ela^Dsed since he had 
 entered the house to perform that operation which 
 had altogether terminated so fatally.
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 neal's dismay. 
 
 Dr. Davenal and Mr. Cray went forth together. 
 Outside the hall-door stood Julius Wild. It now 
 w^anted twenty minutes to seven. The infirmary 
 pupil had arrived a quarter of an hour before, and 
 had waited patiently ever since to be let in. He 
 had rung the bell in vain. In the confusion and 
 distress of the house, it had, perhaps, not been 
 heard, certainly had not been attended to. His 
 rings had been but gentle ones : Julius AYild knew 
 better than to make a noise at a house when illness 
 was inside it : and he waited patiently enough, won- 
 dering whether the serv^ants were asleep, whether 
 Lady Oswald was worse, and believing the doctors 
 had not yet come. 
 
 A\Tien they came forth, he was excessively sur- 
 prised, marvelling greatly at his non-admittance. 
 
 " I have been ringing this quarter of an hour," 
 he said, by way of explanation and apology. " I 
 can't think what the servants can have been about."
 
 246 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 "What hecve yoio been about?" thundered Mark 
 Cray, givmg way to anger, although he had come 
 straight from the presence of the dead. 
 
 Mr. Wild was astonished. *'I say, sir, I have 
 been waiting here. I have been here this quarter of 
 an hour, and could not get let in." 
 
 "And, pray, what kept you? Why were you 
 not here to time ?" 
 
 "I was here to time, sir," was the deprecating 
 answer ; and the young man marvelled much what 
 had so put out his good-tempered medical master. 
 "You told me to be here a little before half-past 
 six, sir, and I got here five minutes before it." 
 
 Then began that dispute which was never satis- 
 factorily settled ; each, to this very day, believing 
 himself to be in the right. Mr. Cray held to it 
 that he had told him half-past five ; Julius Wild 
 earnestly protested that he had said half-past six. 
 The wrangling continued for some minutes, or 
 rather the difference of opinion, for of course the 
 pupil did not presume to wrangle with his superior. 
 A few sharp words from Mark, peremptorily or- 
 dering him to hold his tongue, concluded it. 
 
 The young man walked close by the two doctors, 
 just a little behind them — for they had been walk- 
 ing down from Lady Oswald's all along, had not
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 247 
 
 stayed for one minute at the door. He had wondered 
 at first whether the operation had taken place, and 
 why they should leave the house just about the time 
 fixed for it : now that he heard of this misappre- 
 hension with regard to the hour, he supposed it was 
 over, and that Mr. Cray's vexation arose from the 
 fact of his not having arrived for it. But he was a 
 young man of curiosity, fond of sociability in a 
 general way and of asking questions, so he thought 
 he would ask one now, and make sure. 
 
 " Is the operation over, sir?" 
 
 " Yes," curtly answered Mark. 
 
 "Was it successful ?" 
 
 "When did you ever know Dr. Davenal unsuc- 
 cessful ?" retorted Mr. Cray. " That was successful 
 enough." 
 
 It never occurred to Julius Wild that the stress 
 upon the word " that " implied, or could imply, that 
 though the operation had been successful, something 
 else was not. Perhaps it was half a suljterfiige in 
 Mark Cray to have said it. The young man asked 
 no more questions. Finding himself so snubbed, he 
 desisted, and walked behind in silence. Neither of 
 them told the unhappy truth to him. Dr. Davenal 
 may have been too pained, too shocked to speak ; 
 Mark Cray's conscience too suggestive. Nay, Dr.
 
 248 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Davenal may not have seen liis way clear to speak at 
 all. If he was to conceal the culpability of Mark 
 Cray, the less he opened his mouth upon the point, 
 even by a word, thejDetter. 
 
 Suddenly Mark turned round. "You are not 
 wanted, Mr. Wild. There 's nothing more to-night." 
 
 The young man took the hint at once, wished 
 them good-evening, and walked off to the infirmary, 
 there to leave certain articles that he had been carry- 
 ing. He observed that Dr. Davenal, usually so cour- 
 teous, never answered him, never gave him the good- 
 evening in reply to his. 
 
 The two surgeons walked on in silence. The 
 streets were nearly deserted ; and the sound of praise 
 and prayer came upon their ears from the lighted 
 places of worship as they passed them. The evening 
 was a warm one, and the doors of the churches and 
 chapels stood open. They never spoke a word, one 
 to the other. Mark Cray felt as he had probably 
 never felt in his life — ashamed, repentant, grieved, 
 humble. He was guilty of the blood of a fellow- 
 creature. He called it a " mistake." A mistake in 
 one sense it undoubtedly was, but a wicked and a 
 wilful one. Dr. Davenal felt it to be both : felt that 
 the giving of the chloroform stealthily, in direct o]3- 
 position to his expressed opinion, deserved a worse
 
 OSWALD cr.AY. 249 
 
 name : and, though he had promised not to betray 
 Mark, he could not just yet subdue his own feelings, 
 and speak to him in a friendly tone. Thus in silence 
 they reached the doctor's gate. 
 
 " Good-night," said he, turning in at it. 
 
 " Good-night," replied Mark, continuing his way. 
 But — and he felt it — there had been no invitation to 
 him to enter, no pleasant look, no shake of the hand. 
 
 Xeal was at the door, airing himself and watching 
 the scanty passers-by in the dusky street, the rest of 
 the household being at church. Dr. Davenal w^ent 
 into his study, and lifted his hat from his brow as if 
 a heavy weight were there. He had no light, save 
 what came in from the street gas-lamp. 
 
 He leaned a^i^ainst the window in thouoht. Two 
 hours before, Lady Oswald had been, so to say, as 
 
 full of life as he was, and now dead. Killed. 
 
 There was no mincing the matter to himself; she 
 had been killed. Killed by Mark Cray. 
 
 Had he done right in undertaking to screen 
 Mark ? — to keep his culpability a secret ? — to suffer 
 the world to assume his innocence ? The reader may 
 deem it a grave question : Dr. Davenal was asking it 
 of himself. Had Mark's been purely an error in 
 judgment ; had he administered the chloroform, 
 believing it to be the right and proper thing to do,
 
 250 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 leaving the issue with God, it had been different. 
 But he had given it in direct opposition to an opinion 
 of more value than his own ; in, as was much to be 
 feared, a spirit of obstinate defiance. It is true he 
 had not intended to kill ; he had probably been over- 
 confident of the result. How Dr. Davenal condemned 
 him, he alone could tell ; but — was it his, the doctor's 
 place, to hold him forth to the condemnation of the 
 world ? ISTo ; he, the merciful man, thought it could 
 not be. One strong point on the side of this mercy 
 was — that the proclaiming the facts could be j)ro- 
 ductive of no good result ; they could not recall the 
 mistaken act ; they could not bring the unfortunate 
 lady back to life. It might be said that it should be 
 made known as a warning to others not to trust 
 ^lark Cray ; but the very occurrence itself with its 
 tragical end, would, if the doctor knew anything of 
 human nature, be its own warning for ]\Iark Cray's 
 whole lifetime. He did not think much of the sur- 
 gical failure ; at least he was not dwelling on it. 
 Probably the worse calamity had in a measure 
 eclipsed the other in his mind. Young surgeons 
 had turned nervous before now, as Dr. Davenal 
 knew ; and the fall of the maid. Parkins, might cer- 
 tainly have startled him. It was not that that was 
 troubling him ; he had arrested Mark's shaking
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 251 
 
 hands, and replaced them with his own sure ones, 
 and carried the matter through successfully ; it was 
 the other. 
 
 He thought it over and over, and could not bring 
 himself to see that he had done wrong in promising 
 to hide the facts. If he went that hour and stood 
 in the market-place and shouted them forth to all 
 hearers, it could not bring back the forfeited life ; it 
 could not remedy the past in the remotest degree. 
 He thought of his dead brother, Caroline's father ; he 
 remembered the words he had sent out to him to 
 soothe his dying bed — " The child shall be to me as 
 a daughter." He could not, on the very threshold of 
 her wedded life, bring obloquy on the husband of 
 her choice, and blight 'his good name, his fair pro- 
 spects. And so he resolved to keep the secret — to guard 
 the fatal mistake from the knowledge of the world. 
 Only their own two selves were privy to it, therefore 
 Mark was perfectly, safe, save for him. The ad- 
 ministering the chloroform must be looked upon as 
 an error in judgment, of his own as well as of Mark's; 
 and yet scarcely an error, for perhaps nine surgeons 
 out of ten would so have administered it to a patient 
 under similar circumstances, and have made no ex- 
 ception in Lady Oswald. He, Dr. Davenal, must 
 suffer this to be assumed, saying himself as little as
 
 252 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 was possible upon the matter to any one : in a case 
 where the termination had been so unfortunate, his 
 reticence would be excused. 
 
 He leaned his head upon his hand in the dark 
 twilight, and pondered over the circumstances : he 
 could not keep his mind from dwelling upon them 
 almost morbidly. A strange fatality seemed to have 
 attended the affair altogether. There had been the 
 obstinate persistence of Lady Oswald to see her land- 
 lord, in spite of common sense and of Mr. Oswald 
 Cray's representation that it could not jDossibly serve 
 her ; there had been the sudden falling lame of the car- 
 riage horse, for which the coachman had been unable 
 to account ; and then there had been the accident to 
 the train. Parkins had told him a confused tale — 
 confused through her own grief, poor woman — of 
 their having gone by mistake, she and her mistress, 
 to the wrong side of the station at Hildon to take 
 the return train, and had thereby lost a train. They 
 went, naturally enough perhaps to inexperienced tra- 
 vellers, to the side of the platform on which they 
 had descended on going ; and it was not until a train 
 came up to the other side, took in the passengers 
 waiting on that side of the platform, and went on to 
 Hallingham, that they discovered their mistake. But 
 for that, they would have been at Hallingliam safe
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 253 
 
 and sound when the accident happened to the late 
 train. Then there was the fact of Mark Cray's hav- 
 ing been in the train, of his having been the first to 
 see Lady Oswald. When brought afterwards to the 
 home terminus, she had said, " Mr. Cray will go home 
 with me:" and later she had insisted on his taking 
 the operation. He himself had been called out to 
 Thorn-dyke, had been kept there while the long hours 
 of the best part of the day had flitted away : had he 
 not been called out, why, the operation would, be- 
 yond all question, have been performed in the morn- 
 ing, probably by himself, for he should have seen her 
 early and detected its need. There was the absence 
 of the pupil, Julius Wild, through what appeared an 
 unaccountable mistake : had that pupil been present, 
 to him would have fallen the task of getting Parkins 
 from the room, and the chloroform could not have 
 been administered. A curious chapter of accidents — 
 or w^hat are called such — and Dr. Davenal lost him- 
 self in the chain of thought. " O merciful Father, 
 forgive him ! forgive him this night's work ! " he 
 murmured. " And mayst Thou liave taken that poor 
 woman to her rest !" 
 
 A great light and Neal's smooth voice broke upon 
 Dr. Davenal. " Shall I get you anything, sir ? Tea, 
 or"
 
 254 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " I don't want an}i^liing, I don't want the gas 
 lighted," interrupted Dr. Davenal, starting from his 
 chair. " Wait until you are called." 
 
 Neal, after a moment's stare, shot back again. It 
 was not so much the sharp words, more imperative 
 than any commonly used by his master, but the wail- 
 ing tone of pain in which they were spoken, that 
 struck Neal : nay, it almost seemed as if his entrance 
 had brought a sort of terror to the doctor. 
 
 It was not terror. Neal was mistaken. But Dr. 
 Davenal had been so completely buried in thoughts, 
 not altogether of this world, that the abrupt interrup- 
 tion, with its common-place excuse, had seemed to 
 him singularly inopportune, causing him to wave 
 away abruptly the man and his words. 
 
 He sat on in the dark again, and Neal took his 
 place at the front door, and stood there looking out. 
 JSTot a soul was in the house save himself and his 
 master; and it may have seemed a more cheering 
 way of passing the evening, to Neal, than to be shut 
 up indoors. 
 
 It grew darker. Neal stroUed along by the skirt- 
 ing shrubs of the garden, and took his stand at the 
 front gate, ready. to exchange courtesies with the 
 people who would soon be going home from church 
 or chapel. The moon did not give much light yet,
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 255 
 
 but tlie night promised to be as clear and bright as 
 the previous one had been. 
 
 " Holloa ! " cried Neal, as a man he knew came up 
 quickly. " You are in a hurry to-night." 
 
 '' I have been out on business, Mr. Xeal," replied 
 the man, who was in fact an assistant to a carpenter 
 and undertaker. " Our work can't always wait for 
 the Sabbath to go by before it is seen to." 
 
 " Is anybody dead ? " asked Xeal. 
 
 " Lady Oswald. The message came down to us 
 best part of an hour ago, so I've been up there." 
 
 It has been observ^ed that Neal was too well trained 
 a gentleman both in manners and nerves to express 
 much surprise, but this answer caused him the very 
 greatest shock. He was so startled as to take refuge 
 in disbelief. 
 
 ''Lady Oswald, did you say? But she's not 
 dead!" 
 
 " But she is," replied the man. " I ought to know. 
 I've just come from her." 
 
 ^"Why, what has she died of? They said the 
 railway accident had not materially hurt her." 
 
 " She haven't died of the accident. She have 
 died of that — that — what-you-call-it — as is give to 
 folks to take the pain out of 'em." 
 
 Neal did not understand. " To take the pain out
 
 256 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 of them ?" he repeated, looking questioningly at the 
 speaker. 
 
 " That stuff that have come into fashion of late 
 years. The doctors will give it you while you have a 
 tooth took out, if you'll let 'em." 
 
 " Do you mean chloroform ? " 
 
 " That's it. I never can remember the name. But 
 I'd rather call it poison, for my part — killing folks 
 dead off without a warning." 
 
 " ^Mio gave it to Lady Oswald ? " 
 
 " Your master," replied the man, lowering liis voice 
 to a whisper as he glanced at the ^^^.ndows of the 
 house. " The servants was in the room with me up 
 there, and they told me about it. There was some- 
 thing to be done to my lady, — some bones to be set, 
 I believe, — and the doctors went this afternoon, and 
 they give her this stuff, and it killed her. I ^^'onder 
 Parliament don't make a law again its use, for my 
 part." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear this," exclaimed Xeal. " My 
 lady was very friendly to me." 
 
 "Ay. The servants be cut up like anjihing. 
 And enough to make 'em! It's a shocking thing. 
 Tlie lady's maid says she can't think why they should 
 have give her the stuff, for ]\Ir. Cray himself told her, 
 when he was there in the afternoon, that what they
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 257 
 
 had to do wouldn't hurt my lady no more than a 
 flea-bite. Any way, she's dead. But I can t stop 
 here, I must get along back with the measure. Good- 
 night, Mr. Xeal." 
 
 " Good-night," rejjlied Neal. 
 
 He leaned on the gate, watching the man hurry- 
 ing onwards with his fleet steps, and thinking over 
 what he had heard. Perhaps it is not too much to 
 say that Mr. ISTeal would have preferred to hear of 
 the death of any other person in Hallingham than 
 of Lady Oswald's. Lady Oswald had been a great 
 friend to him, and it had been ISTeal's intention to 
 put her friendliness to the test in a very sliort period 
 of time. Neal was a subtle schemer, and he had 
 been perfecting a plan by which at one bold stroke 
 Lady Oswald's mind should be disabused of that sus- 
 picion against himself imparted to her by Dr. Davenal 
 the day of Miss Caroline's marriage, to which he had 
 been an unsuspected listener, and by which he should 
 also be effectually served. Neal had begun to feel 
 that his tenure in his present situation was no longer 
 sure, and he intended by the help of Lady Oswald 
 to secure to himself a situation of a different nature. 
 
 Now this grand scheme was destroyed. As the 
 rising waves dash away the "houses" l)uilt by 
 children on the sands at the sea-shore, so this 
 I M 2
 
 258 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 chateau en Espagne of Neal's was dashed down by 
 the death of Lady Oswald. If Js'eal's cold and selfish 
 heart could like any one, it had liked her. She had 
 kept up friendly relations with Neal, as a former 
 retainer of Sir John and Thorndyke ; had shown 
 more consideration to Keal than to her own servants 
 — ^had treated him in fact as superior to her servants. 
 When Neal waited on her at her residence to pay his 
 respects, as he did occasionally, she would ring the 
 bell on his departure and say sharply, " Show Mr. 
 IsTeal out" — as much as to remind her household that 
 he had not been a common servant at Thorndyke : he 
 was groom of the chambers. She had also been liberal 
 in her presents to Neal. Altogether, ]S"eal in his 
 discomfiture felt very much as though her ladyship's 
 death was a grievance personally inflicted on himself 
 
 Jessy the housemaid was the first of the servants 
 to return. The moment she entered, I^eal took his hat 
 and went up to Lady Oswald's with a view of learn- 
 ing particulars. The news had been so sudden, so 
 unexpected, that some faint feeling or hope almost 
 seemed to be in the man's mind that he should find 
 it untrue. 
 
 He found it too tiTie. He was allowed to see 
 Lady Oswald, and he listened to the details given 
 by the servants, gathering them into his mind to
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 259 
 
 be turned over and examined afterwards. Parkins 
 spoke with him privately. She was very bitter 
 against the chloroform : she said to him that she 
 should always look upon the administering it as an 
 underhand trick not to be understood. There was 
 no question of chloroform when she was in the room, 
 and that was up to the very last moment ; there was 
 no chloroform present that she saw, and the doctors 
 'must have got it concealed in their pockets and pro- 
 duced it when her back was turned. She didn't 
 blame Mr. Cray ; she was certain it was not ]\Ir. 
 Cray ; for he liad told her privately in the afternoon 
 that the operation would be a mere nothing, a flea- 
 bite — and she could only wonder at Dr. Davenal's 
 not having exercised more caution. One of the 
 servants down stairs had had some experience in 
 chloroform, she added, and her opinion was that an 
 over quantity must have been given : that Dr. 
 Davenal had mistook the dose, and given too mucli. 
 At any rate, if ever there was a murdered woman, 
 it was her mistress. 
 
 Parkins's eyes were alight when she said this, 
 and Parkins's cheeks aflame. Her grief for tlie loss 
 of her mistress was merging into anger at its cause. 
 Like Neal, she was beginning to consider it as a 
 personal grievance inflicted on herself, and to resent
 
 260 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 it as such. Self-interest sways the best of us more 
 or less : and Parkins felt that through this she had 
 lost a better place than she should ever find again. 
 Neal asked her a few questions on his owti score, 
 and hurried away with the information he had 
 garnered. 
 
 He hastened home with the utmost speed that 
 his legs would carry him. He had a reason — at 
 least he thought he might have one in future — for 
 not wishing it known at home that he had paid 
 that visit to Lady Oswald's. The late returners 
 from church were but in the streets when he went 
 back, slowly pacing along in the lovely autumn 
 night. He whisked in just in time ta admit the 
 ladies. 
 
 *' Is papa in, Neal ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Neal^ hap-hazard, for he was of 
 course not positive upon the point. " I fancy he is 
 in his room. Miss Sara." 
 
 Sara knocked at the consulting-room door and 
 entered. As she went forward, N'eal contrived to 
 obtain a passing view of the interior. It was still 
 in darkness, and Dr. Davenal was leaning his back 
 ao'ainst the window-frame, his arms folded, his head 
 bowed, as one will stand when under the weight of 
 care.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 261 
 
 " It looks just as tlioiigli lie had purposely killed 
 her," was Xeal's comment to himself. 
 
 Not that Xeal thought it then. Xo, no. But 
 Neal was in a state of terrible vexation and dis- 
 appointment ; in that precise mood when it is a 
 vast relief to vent one's trouble upon anybody. 
 
 "How sad you look, papa 1" cried Sara, as she noted 
 his depressed attitude. "And you are all in the dark 1" 
 
 Dr. Davenal aroused himself, put his hand on his 
 daughter, and turned round to face the street. At 
 that moment the death-bell rang out. 
 
 Accustomed now to the darkness of the room — 
 not that it was entirely dark, for the doctor had 
 thrown open the Venetian blind, and the gas-lamp 
 cast in its rays brightly — Sara could see how sad and 
 clouded was his face. The death-bell was striking 
 out its quick sharp strokes. 
 
 " Do you know who the bell is tolling for, papa ? 
 I never heard it ring out so late as this." 
 
 " I expect it is tolling for Lady Oswald." 
 
 " Papa ! For Lady Oswald ?" She quite shrieked 
 as she said it in her startled surprise. 
 
 *' She is dead, child," he said, his subdued voice 
 a contrast to hers. 
 
 " papa ! Was it the operation ? Did she die 
 under it ? "
 
 262 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " Yes — in one sense. The operation was snccess- 
 fully accomplished, but — chloroform was exhibited, 
 and she never rallied from it." 
 
 Sara stood still, her heart beating. It seemed 
 that a hundred regrets were crowding upon her, a 
 hundred questions. " papa, why did you ad- 
 minister chloroform ?" she exclaimed, scarcely know- 
 ing what she said. 
 
 For a single moment the temptation came over 
 Dr. Davenal to tell his daughter the truth, and he 
 had unclosed his lips to speak ; but he checked liim- 
 self in time. Sara was trustworthy ; he knew that ; 
 but it was impossible to answer for chance or inad- 
 vertent words, even from her ; and for Mark's sake 
 it might be better to leave her in equal ignorance 
 with the rest of the world. 
 
 "My dear," he said — and the words to her ear 
 sounded strangely solemn — "I have striven to do 
 the best always for my patients, under God. Had 
 I been able to save Lady Oswald's life, I would have 
 saved it." 
 
 " yes, yes, papa, I know that. We all know 
 it. Did she die quite suddenly ? Was she sensible 
 of her state ?" 
 
 " People who die under the influence of chloroform 
 seldom know anything after inhaling it. She did not.
 
 OSWALD CTwAY. 263 
 
 Sara, it is a painful subject ; I would ratlier not 
 speak of it. I feel it greatly — greatly." 
 
 She quitted him and went up stairs to take off 
 her things. When she came down again Dr. Davenal 
 Avas in the dining-room, and the tray, as was usual 
 when they dined early, was on the table with some 
 slight refreshment. 
 
 "Not anything for me," said the doctor to his 
 sister. " I cannot eat to-night." 
 
 He did not sit down : he was pacing the carpet 
 with thoughtful, measured tread. Xeal stole a glance 
 at him from under the corner of his eyes. 
 
 " Shall I light the gas in your study, sir, to-night ?" 
 " Xo. Yes, you may light one burner," the doctor 
 added after a moment's pause. 
 
 "What's the matter, Eichard?" asked Miss 
 Davenal. "You seem cut up. Have you had a 
 hard day's work to-day ?" 
 
 " Pretty well," called out the doctor. 
 
 "Do you know who it is that's dead? Very 
 
 queer that the passing-bell should toll out at night !" 
 
 " You can tell your aunt, Sara," the doctor quietly 
 
 said, as he stepped to the door of the room, and vanished. 
 
 "Well, I'm sure!" angrily cried i^Iiss Davenal 
 
 " My brother is polite to-night. He miglit have 
 
 answered me."
 
 264 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Sara puslied from her the piece of cake, she had 
 been trying to eat, and went close to her aunt, 
 speaking in her slowest and most distinct tones. 
 
 " Don't you see that papa has had a great shock 
 — a blow, Aunt Bettina ? Lady Oswald is dead." 
 
 Poor Miss Davenal, never very quick at compre- 
 hending, confused the information together in the 
 most helpless manner. " What do you say ? Lady 
 Oswald has had a blow ? AMio's dead V 
 
 " Aunt, aunt ! you will understand me if you 
 won't be impatient. Lady Oswald is dead. And I 
 say it is a great blow to papa. I can see that it is." 
 
 Miss Davenal heard now, and looked perfectly 
 scared. " Lady Oswald dead ! It cannot be, Sara." 
 
 " She had to undergo some operation in conse- 
 quence of the accident, and papa gave her chloro- 
 form, hoping of course to lighten the pain, and she 
 never rallied from it." 
 
 Miss Davenal seized Sara's hands in her dismay. 
 Her senses were sharpened and she had heard per- 
 fectly ; her face had turned wliite. [N'eal, who had 
 come in, looked at her as he stood near the door, and 
 wondered whether she was o'oinej to faint. 
 
 " Sara, I don't like that chloroform. I have told 
 the doctor so, often and often. They should never 
 try it upon me. AYho gave it her ?"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 265 
 
 " Papa," replied Sara, never dreaming but she was 
 correct in saying so. " Aunt Bettina, he gave it her 
 for the best." 
 
 " Best ! of course he gave it for the best — nobody- 
 disputes that. But I don't like it : I never did like 
 it. Chloroform is come into fashion now — an im- 
 provement on the old state of things, they call it, as 
 they call the railways — and I don't deny that it spares 
 pain ; but I do not like it." 
 
 By and by Sara went to the consulting-room. The 
 doctor was pacing it uneasily. 
 
 " I have come to say good-night, papa." 
 
 "You are going to bed early. Is it ten o'clock ?" 
 
 "Yes, I think it is past ten. Good-night, dear 
 papa. I hoj)e you will be better in the morning." 
 
 "I have felt notliing like it since the death of 
 Richard. Good-night, my child" 
 
 It was not so much the death in itself that was 
 affecting Dr. Davenal, as the appalling reflection that 
 it had been, in a manner, wilfully caused. The 
 knowledge weighed on his heart like a stone.
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 THE NIGHT VISITOR TO DR. DAVENAL. 
 
 The bed-chamber of Sara Davenal was over tlie 
 doctor's study, on the opposite side of tlie landing to 
 the drawing-room. It was not a large room, but 
 longer than it was wide, and the bed was placed at 
 the far end of the room — the back. The chamber 
 behind it was larger, and occupied by Miss Davenal. 
 The room opposite Miss Davenal' s, and behind the 
 drawing-room, had been the bed-chamber of Dr. 
 Davenal in his wife's lifetime ; since her death it 
 had been kept as a spare room for chance visitors. 
 
 Sara did not begin to undress immediately upon 
 entering the room. She put out the light, and sat 
 down at the open window to indulge in a little quiet 
 thought : it was rather a habit of hers to do so when 
 the night was fine and she came up early. She liked 
 to sit there and think of many things, to glance up 
 at the clear sky in the bright moonlight. With all 
 her practical good sense — and she had her full por-
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 267 
 
 tion of it — slie was of a somewhat dreamy, imagina- 
 tive temperament : and since Richard's death she 
 had grown to think more of that other home to 
 which he was gone, the same to which we are all 
 hastening, than it is perhaps usual for girls of Sara's 
 age to think of it. As she had said to Dr. Davenal 
 in the afternoon, she would wonder whether Richard 
 and her lost mother — whom she but imperfectly 
 remembered — could look down upon her: she was 
 fond of fancying that they were looking down upon 
 her : and she would lose herself in a maze of 
 visionary imaginings. 
 
 Not- on this night, however, did her thoughts 
 turn to Richard. They were full of Lady Oswald 
 and her unhappy death. That this fatal chloroform 
 had been administered for the best, in accordance 
 with Dr. Davenal's experienced judgment, Sara 
 assumed as a matter of course ; she never so much 
 as thought of casting a doubt to it : but she knew 
 enough of him to be sure that the fatal termination 
 would cause him to repent of having given it — to 
 blame himself bitterly, and she felt for him to the 
 very depth of her heart. An uncomfortable sensa- 
 tion as if her father had been guilty of some delibe- 
 rate wTong was pervading her, and she could not 
 shake it off.
 
 268 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 It slioiild be observed that altlioiigli Sara sat close 
 to the open window, she was not liable to be seen by 
 the passers-by in the street, did any cast their eyes 
 that way. A small stand or ledge had been con- 
 structed round the window (a bay window, as was 
 the one answering to it on the other side, the draw- 
 ing-room), and this was filled with pots in flower. 
 Geraniums of many species, fuchsias, heliotropes, 
 heaths, wild thyme, the fine flowering cactus, and 
 many others, raised their heads proudly and formed a 
 screen behind which Sara was securely sheltered from 
 observation, and also from the rays of the gas-lamp at 
 the gate, wliich otherwise would have lighted her up. 
 So that, although she could see out perfectly well, 
 sitting as she now was, she could not be seen. If she 
 chose to stand at the window and lean out, her head 
 was above the flowers ; but at the same time they 
 entirely prevented her from seeing anything immedi- 
 ately below her window. The ground for a yard or 
 two beyond Dr. Davenal's study window was as com- 
 pletely hidden from her as though it had been a 
 hundred miles off ; and it is necessary to mention 
 this. The bed-room above Sara's, occupied by Watton 
 the upper maid, had a flat window, and its view un- 
 derneath was in like manner obstructed by the ex- 
 tending bow and the plants in it of Sara's. These
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 269 
 
 flowers at Miss Sara Davenal's window were quite the 
 admiration of the pedestrian portion of Hallingham, 
 and many a one would halt at the front railings to 
 take a passing gaze at them. They were really 
 beautiful, and Sara took a pride in them and liked 
 to tend them. 
 
 She liked to inhale their sweet perfume, as she 
 was doing now, sweeter and stronger in the night 
 air than in the garish day. Perhaps the heliotrope 
 was of all the most powerful scent : and somehow 
 that heliotrope had become associated in her mind 
 with Mr. Oswald Cray. She could not have told 
 why or wherefore ; she had never attempted to 
 analyse the cause : she only knew that when she 
 approached that window, and the perfume of the 
 heliotrope was wafted to her senses, the image of 
 Oswald Cray was, in like manner, by some mysterious 
 instinct, wafted to her mind. 
 
 Perhaps it did not require any extraneous aid to 
 bring him to her memory. He was already too 
 securely seated there. For the last twelvemonth, 
 since Oswald Cray had become intimate at their 
 house, her love for him had been gradually growing 
 into being : that subtle understanding, never to be 
 explained or accounted for, which draws together 
 two human hearts, and only those two, the one for
 
 270 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 the other, of all the whole world, life findmg life, 
 had arisen between them. Oswald Cray had never 
 spoken or hinted at his feelings until the time when 
 Dr. Davenal honestly avowed to him that he had 
 fancied he cared for Caroline : that had brought 
 forth the one word — and it was little more — to 
 Sara. But she had kno^^^l it just as surely as 
 though he had spoken out all along. 
 
 Save for that shrinking reticence which would 
 fain hide the secret, as the modest snowdrop hides its 
 head, and which must aways accompany the feeling 
 if it be genuine, there was nothing to be ashamed of 
 in this love. It is true that it had become entwined 
 with every fibre of her heart, was a part and parcel 
 of her very being. It would perhaps have been im- 
 possible — at least, it would have been very improbable 
 — for Sara Davenal, with her right feeling, her powers 
 of discernment, which she possessed in a high degree, 
 and her sound good sense, to fall in love with an un- 
 worthy man. She could not have met with a more 
 worthy one than Oswald Cray. He had his faults — 
 ay, who has not ? — but they were faults of what may 
 be called a high order ; not mean, drivelling, scandaliz- 
 ing faults, that abound in the world. Each was suited 
 and suitable to the other, in taste, in position, in moral 
 goodness : and their love liad been given for aye ; be-
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 271 
 
 yond the power of circumstances or time to change. 
 They might never be more to each than they were 
 now. Untoward fate might separate them ; the 
 Avorld's bitter tongues, expediency, the poison of mis- 
 understanding ; any one of these separating causes 
 might part them ; Sara's unbending principle, Oswald's 
 wrong-headed pride — it was impossible to foretell : but 
 of one thing both might rest assured, that unto their 
 dying day that love could never be wholly extin- 
 guished in either heart, so as to give place to another. 
 
 Somehow the thoughts of Sara Davenal had wan- 
 dered from the painful subject of Lady Oswald to 
 this brighter one : wandered unwittingly, against her 
 will. She would not have chosen to dwell upon her 
 love that sad night, or on the one sweet word of Os- 
 wald when he last parted from her : but there it wa-s, 
 sounding in her ears and her heart : and she lost her- 
 self in one of the sweetest reveries that ever maiden 
 pictured of the future. 
 
 Suddenly she was aroused from it. Not by any 
 thought of poor Lady Oswald, or of her father's sor- 
 row, or of the minutes that were hurr}dng on, or that 
 it was time she prepared for bed ; but by the sight of 
 some one coming in at the front gate. It was nothing 
 •umjsual for that gate to be invaded at night, by mes- 
 sengers summoning Dr. Davenal to some urgent bed
 
 272 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 of sickness. But this intruder had something pecu- 
 liar about him, or about his movements, which at- 
 tracted her eye. 
 
 He was a tall man, wearing a cap and a grey 
 Scotch plaid scarf. The cap, which had a peak to it, 
 appeared to be tied down over his ears, and the scarf 
 was worn in a droll fashion, one at least that Sara 
 had never seen in Hallingham. It was put length- 
 ways over the shoulders, as a lady puts on a scarf ; it 
 came down to the waist behind, and was held very 
 much up to the neck in front. Sara naturally looked 
 at the man, looked keenly with a view of distinguish- 
 ing his features. In her sympathy with the sick, 
 she thought to learn, by him, who was ill that night 
 and wanted her father. But she was unable to do 
 this, and the first thought that struck upon her as 
 curious was, that a man should be so completely 
 wrapped up on that genial night. Tlie next curious 
 thing that struck her was — the man's movements. 
 
 He had come up to the gate with very quick 
 steps — as messengers from the sick often did come 
 — opened it, and gave a sort of dart or spring to his 
 risht, which brought him under the shade of the 
 laurels and hid him from the moonlight. There he 
 stopped, reconnoitring the house, so far as could be 
 seen, but really it required a quick eye to distin-
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 273 
 
 guisli him at all from tlie dark sliruLs. Tliat was 
 not precisely the way in Avhich night applicants came 
 to Dr. Davenal's house ; and Sara, very much aston- 
 ished, rose quietly from her seat, to see the better. 
 
 He came on at last, creeping close to the shrubs, 
 stooping under their shade, until he gained Dr. 
 Davenal's window. "With all Sara's endeavours to 
 look, she tliere lost sight of him, because he was 
 beneath, but she heard a gentle tapping at the 
 window. JSTot the quick imperative noise of one in 
 haste, demanding instant attention, but a covert, 
 stealthy tapping, wliich seemed afraid of being 
 heard. More and more astonished, Sara leaned out 
 further ; but she could not lean far enough to see. 
 
 The window was opened instantly : therefore it 
 was to be supposed that Dr. Davenal had not re- 
 tired from the room ; that his light had probably 
 guided the stranger to apply at the window, instead 
 of at the door. The first sound, after the opening 
 of the window, was a warning hush-sh-sh-sh ! but 
 whether it came from the applicant or from her 
 father she could not telL A short colloquy fol- 
 lowed, only a word or two in the most covert tones, 
 and then Dr. Davenal went to the front door and 
 admitted the visitor. Sara sat down overwhelmed 
 with amazement.
 
 274 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Somebody else was overwlielmed with amaze- 
 ment unfortunately, — or perhaps the better word 
 for him would be curiosity, — and that was Mr. 
 Neal. l^eal had been a witness to it all. When 
 it struck half-past ten — and this mysterious visit 
 occurred some five minutes subsequent to that 
 time — Dr. Davenal had opened his study door, 
 called to ISTeal, and told him to put the gas out. 
 Which was equivalent to telling him to go to bed : 
 the putting out of the gas being the last service 
 usually required of Neal. Neal came forward and 
 did as he was bid — he put out the hall-lamp and 
 any other burners that might be alight, with the 
 exception of the one in the doctor's study. Dr. 
 Davenal always took that upon himself, and he put 
 out the burner as he spoke to Neal, and lighted his 
 candle for bed, no gas being laid on in the bed- 
 rooms. Neal then went down stairs and turned the 
 gas off at the main ; so the house was safe. 
 
 But Neal, as a matter of taste, was not fond of 
 retiring early. And when he came up again, and 
 had shut himself into his pantry, instead of passing 
 into his sleeping-room he blew out his candle, 
 opened the door on the side, and, dexterously avoid- 
 ino- contact with the shrubs, he stole to the front. 
 Tliere he stood, amidst the shrubs, near the doctor's
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 2/5 
 
 window, with a view possiLly of giving liimself a 
 little fresh air. 
 
 He glanced at the window ; the half shutters were 
 not drawn up, a thing the doctor did himself the very 
 last thing, and he could see the wax candle on the 
 table through the Venetian blinds. The upper 
 shutters of the window were closed ; Xeal always 
 closed those when he lighted the gas ; but his orders 
 were to leave the lower ones open. It was a fancy 
 of the doctor's, the being able to take a look out at 
 the street until the last, if he chose to do so. The 
 upper shutters being closed did not prevent the 
 window being opened at will. It is as well to give 
 these details, for this was an eventful night in the 
 existence of Dr. Davenal : and of others besides. 
 
 Neal could see the candle, and he could see his 
 master. Dr. Davenal was seated at the table, his 
 head leaning on his hand, ^^^lether he was reading, 
 or whether he had merely bent his head in thought, 
 Neal could not discern, but he thought he had never 
 in his life seen a countenance so troubled. 
 
 There was nothing in all that, however, to afford 
 particular gratification to Neal's curiosity, and he 
 drew cautiously away from the window, and turned 
 his attention on the street. It was necessary to be 
 cautious, for the least stir of the slirubs \\uuld have
 
 276 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 been heard by Dr. Davenal on that still niglit ; 
 sitting as lie did with the window a little open, his 
 custom until he retired. Neal stood watching the 
 passers-by. Stay ; watching for any passers-by ; but 
 he had not seen one yet. Sunday evening hours were 
 early at Hallingham, and people were mostly indoors 
 and abed. Now, in point of fact, Neal had no parti- 
 cular motive in stealing out and standing there ; he 
 was not expecting any one or anything ; but he had 
 a habit of peering about him a great deal more than 
 most people have, and Neal rarely went finally to 
 rest without coming out to take a general glance 
 round, and see anything there might be to see. 
 
 Little did ISTeal anticipate the reward his curiosity 
 was to receive this night. He was taking a last look 
 pre^^ous to retreating, thinking it rather slow w^ork 
 standing there with nothing to see, not even a passing 
 passenger on that quiet Sunday night, when the man 
 who had so surprised SaraDavenal darted in at thegate. 
 Neal strained his eyes in a vain attempt to discover 
 who it w^as, and backed into safe quarters. 
 
 He heard the covert tapping at the window ; he 
 heard the warning hush when the doctor opened it, 
 and he could not say for certain, any more than Sara 
 could, which of the two it was who had given that 
 warning hush ; and then after a short whispering,
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 277 
 
 tlie purport of which he was entirely unable to make 
 out, the doctor's tones were a little raised : 
 
 " I will open the door for you." 
 
 The stranger made his way to the front door. 
 Neal, in the swift, unemng, covert manner which 
 practice had rendered facile, stole back to his pantry 
 with incredible speed, and was in time to peep out of 
 it, and to see the visitor admitted. 
 
 But he gained nothing by his movement. The 
 hall was in the dark : Dr. Davenal had not brought 
 his candle out, and 'Nesil could not see more than the 
 very faintest outline of their forms. They passed 
 into the room in silence, and Neal heard the door 
 closed quietly and cautiously : another minute and 
 the bolt was slipped. He took off his shoes and stole 
 on tiptoe in his stockings to the door, and put his ear 
 to it. 
 
 Xo, not a word could he hear. That door was a 
 sound door, a close-fitting one : Neal had tried it 
 before in his life, and obtained no more result than 
 he was obtaining now. He made his way back 
 through the pantry to the window again, and there 
 Neal could have groaned in impotent rage had he 
 dared, for Dr. Davenal had shut it. 
 
 But he had not closed the shutters. Neal, if it 
 was any good to him, could still get a glimpse in
 
 278 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 through the upright staves of the green dwarf blinds. 
 It was but a glimpse, for they were turned all but 
 close together, the one stave nearly lying on the 
 other, and it did not afford him satisfaction, for he 
 could see neither Dr. Davenal nor his visitor, who 
 were seated at the side of the room close together 
 where the angle of view obtainable by I^eal would 
 not reach them. A very faint hum of voices pene- 
 trated his ear, and he was not sure whether that 
 was not fancy. Their conversation was being car- 
 ried on in the lowest tones. 
 
 Unsatisfactory as was this result as a whole, N"eal 
 waited with patience. Such men as Neal are always 
 patient. The clock struck eleven, and the clock 
 struck half-past eleven, and Neal was still there. 
 
 Then there occurred a change. Dr. Davenal rose 
 from his seat and began pacing the room. His 
 whole face was working with agitation. Neal 
 caught a sight of it occasionally as he paced, and 
 was struck by the troubled expression, nay, by the 
 dread that pervaded it. Neal had long ago made up 
 his mind as to the purport of the visit — that it was 
 in some way connected with the catastrophe of the 
 evening, the death of Lady Oswald. 
 
 Suddenly Neal was startled. His nose was un- 
 commonly close to the window, and the window was
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 279 
 
 abruptly raised ; raised without tlie slightest warn- 
 ing some half-dozen inches. Neal believed his nose 
 was off. 
 
 When he came to himself, which he really did not 
 for a few minutes, some words in a wailing tone were 
 issuing from the lips of Dr. Davenal. " Silence must 
 be purchased at any price ; at any price. If it takes 
 the whole of my fortune, I must purchase silence." 
 Neal pricked up his ears. 
 
 Dr. Davenal was walking still ; the visitor, who- 
 ever he might be, never moved from his seat. It was 
 only when the doctor came near the window that jSTeal 
 caught an occasional word. *' Yes, Lady Oswald her- 
 seK. She wished it," were the next words he heard, 
 and then there was another temporary lull. 
 
 " I am aware of that. Murder ? yes, the world 
 would look upon it as such. I felt certain that Lady 
 Oswald was one to whom chloroform, if administered, 
 would jjrove fatal. Heaven help me ! What have I 
 done that the trials of this day should fall upon my 
 head?'' 
 
 Dr. Davenal was standing at the window as he 
 said this, had halted there with his voice close to 
 Neal's face, and Neal's hair stood on end as he 
 heard it. From that moment the man believed — 
 fully believed in his inmost heart — that his master
 
 280 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 had purposely destroyed Lady Oswald. Perhaps 
 the belief, judging from these disconnected and 
 certainly ominous words, was excusable. 
 
 For a short while Neal heard no more. His 
 master had halted opposite the stranger and was 
 talking fast, but nothing came to Neal but a confused 
 sound. Then he advanced again. 
 
 " I tell you it shall be done. If it costs every 
 penny piece that I have saved, this horrible secret 
 must be bought up — if money will buy it. I shall 
 never know another happy moment : I shall live as 
 with a sword of disgrace hanging over me, ever ex- 
 pecting it to fall." 
 
 Some murmured words came from the stranger, 
 and Neal stretched his ear to its utmost tension. 
 Whether in doing so he made the least noise, 
 touched the window, rustled the shrubs, he could 
 not tell, but Dr. Davenal turned and shut the 
 window down as swiftly and suddenly as he had 
 put it up. 
 
 So, hearing was cut off. But Neal could see still 
 — just a glimpse. He saw Dr. Davenal go out of 
 the room with the candle and bring back a plate of 
 biscuits and a decanter of wine. He knew he must 
 have gone to the dining-room sideboard for them. 
 A wish crossed Neal's mind to go indoors, make the
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 281 
 
 excuse that lie had heard his master stirring, and 
 dash into the study on the pretence of inquiring if 
 he could do anything. But he did not dare. Neal 
 would have given a whole year's wages to get one 
 good look at the visitor. Presently all sight was 
 cut off. Barely had Dr. Davenal put down the 
 decanter and biscuits than he turned to the window 
 and pulled up the shutters. 
 
 It was a checkmate for JSTeal. He went in and 
 stood just outside his pantr}^, hesitating whether to 
 go close to the room door or not. A good thing he 
 did not, for Dr. Davenal came out almost immediately, 
 and went up stairs to his daughter's room. 
 
 Neal heard him knock at it very softly : he heard 
 him ask in a whisper whether she was in bed yet. 
 That she was not in bed the immediate opening of 
 the door proved. 
 
 Dr. Davenal went in and closed the door. Neal 
 could hear the murmur of his voice, as if he were ex- 
 plaining something to his daughter, and then they 
 came down together, treading softly, not to arouse 
 the house. Xeal could see that she was fully dressed, 
 in the same silk she had worn in the day. They 
 went in, and the door was closed, and the bolt slipped 
 as before. 
 
 Ten minutes, and Sara came out again alone. 
 I n2
 
 282 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Neal could tell who it was by the rustling of the silk, 
 but there was no light. She returned upstairs to her 
 room, but not before N'eal thought he had caught the 
 sound of a sob. 
 
 The next to come forth was the visitor, without a 
 candle still. Dr. Davenal opened the hall door and 
 let him out. Neal, with his quick movements, ghded 
 round to his post of observation in the front garden, 
 and was just in time to see him go through the gate, 
 the cap drawn over his face, and the grey woollen 
 scarf muffled around him.
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 AFTER THE VISITOR'S DEPARTURE. 
 
 If ever tlie signs of misery, of despair, of terror, were 
 depicted on a human face, they were on Dr. Davenal's 
 as he sat that night in his study. He was as a man 
 who has received some great shock ; a shock that 
 strikes a species of paralysis alike to the heart and to 
 the frame. His arms hung down listlessly, his head 
 was bent, his fixed eyes had a wild anxious look, 
 most foreign to the usually calm orbs of the com- 
 posed surgeon. An hour and a quarter had he thus 
 sat since the departure of that midnight visitor who 
 had brought with him so much apparent mystery, so 
 much woe, and the house clock was striking one. 
 The sound did not arouse Dr. Davenal ; he sat on 
 with his face of terrified despair. 
 
 The wax taper, unheeded, imlooked at, stood on a 
 side table where it had been accidentally put. It had 
 burnt nearly to the socket, and it now began to spurt 
 and gutter with a great light ; the signs of its end.
 
 284 OSAYALD CRAY. 
 
 That awoke Dr. Davenal from liis reYerie. Tlie pro- 
 spect of being left in the dark was not a convenient 
 one ; and he tore a bit of paper from a journal lying 
 near and essayed to light the gas, completely for- 
 getting that it had been turned off at the main. 
 
 Finding his mistake, he stood a moment with • his 
 hand to his temples, as if endeaYouring to collect 
 thought, and then opened the door of his bedroom. 
 Candles always stood there on the mantel-piece ready 
 for lighting, and he brought one forward and suc- 
 ceeded in catching a light for it from the dying taper. 
 
 This had the effect of effectually arousing him. 
 He looked at his watch, and then held the candle to 
 a book-shelf, whence he selected a local railway guide, 
 and sat down to the table to consult it. 
 
 "Nothing until the morning!" he exclaimed in a 
 tone that might have been one of vexation but for its 
 deeper pain. " Stay, though ! Yes, there is. There's 
 the train that passes here at 3.20 for Merton : and I 
 should find a train on from thence. Then I must go 
 by it : there's no time to be lost, once the morrow has 
 dawned, if this unhappy business is to be suppressed. 
 Twenty minutes past three ; and now it is one ; I can 
 lie down for an hour and a half." 
 
 He went at once into his bedroom, took off his 
 coat, and lay down on the outside of the bed. There
 
 OSAVALD CllAY. 285 
 
 was no fear of his oversleeping himself : sleep for a 
 troubled mind in its first shock, troubled as was Dr. 
 Davenal's, is out of the question. 
 
 Eest also seemed to be. He could not lie. He 
 tossed and turned on the uneasy counterpane, and 
 finally sprang off it with a wail of agony, and took 
 to pacing the room. Xeal, who was regaling his ear 
 at the chamber-door, could hear every footfall of the 
 slippers, every groan of the distressed heart, Never 
 more, never more in this world, w^ould the heart of 
 Eichard Davenal lose its care. 
 
 Neal was not in the habit, with all his ferreting 
 propensities, of sitting up at night to pursue them ; 
 but this night, was an exceptional one. To say that 
 Neal had been astonished, confounded at what had 
 taken place, at the knowledge he believed he had 
 acquired, would be saying little, in comparison with 
 its effect upon his mind. He did not love his master ; 
 he did not like him ; it may not be going too far to 
 say that he hated him : for Neal's instinct had taught 
 him that his master partially saw through him, par- 
 tially suspected him to be the villain that he was ; 
 but to believe him capable of deliberately destroying 
 one of his patients, was in truth almost too great a 
 stretch for even Neal. Until that night, ISTeal could 
 not have believed him capable of any wrong act : he
 
 286 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 gave liim credit, for lie could not help doing so, for 
 his honour and his virtues, while he disliked him : 
 but he did in truth now believe that Dr. Davenal had 
 wilfully killed Lady Oswald. That is, that he had 
 given her the chloroform deliberately, knowing it 
 would probably take her life. 
 
 The faintest possible doubt of this had been first 
 caught from the words of Parkins. Not real doubt, 
 but a sort of angry feeling of the extreme imprudence 
 of the doctor in having given it : Neal no more be- 
 lieved then that Dr. Davenal had done it, or was 
 capable of doing it, than he could have believed the 
 most monstrous improbability in the world. Still the 
 idea had been admitted : and when that strange visitor 
 was with his master afterwards, and Neal heard, with 
 his own ears, the suspicious words that fell, he could 
 put upon them but one interpretation — that, incredible 
 as it seemed, his master was guilty, and not uninten- 
 tionally, of the death of Lady Oswald. Neal hoped 
 to arrive at the why and the wherefore, and he thought 
 nothing of sitting up the night to do it : if by that 
 means he might gain any satisfactory solution. Neal, 
 it must be confessed, was utterly stunned witli the 
 affair, with the belief ; and could not see or under- 
 stand yet with any clearness : like a man who is 
 struck violently on the head and looks around him in
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 287 
 
 stupid helpless maze, as if he had a dead wall before 
 him. A shock to the head and a shock to the mind 
 will bear for the passing moment the same apparent 
 result. 
 
 Dr. Davenal paced his room, his two rooms in 
 fact, for the door was open between them, and he 
 passed from one to the other in his restless wander- 
 ings, his mental agony. Soon after two he began to 
 wash and dress himself; that is, he changed some of 
 his clothes, and poured out a wash-hand basin of 
 cold water and splashed his face with it. He put on 
 a pair of boots ; he searched for his gloves ; he looked 
 out an overcoat : and then he stood for a few minutes 
 and thought. 
 
 Liftin^^ the writin;]' desk from underneath the 
 table, where you may remember it was kept, he unlocked 
 it, and was for some little time examining certain 
 papers it contained. Some of these he put in his 
 pocket, and then he locked the desk and rej^laced it. 
 Next he sat down to write a note ; just a line or two. 
 
 It was getting on past the half hour then. He 
 opened the door and went forth from his room. Keal, 
 who had heard him coming, peeped from his pantry 
 and saw him turn to the stairs, the candle in one hand, 
 a note held in the other. Xeal cautiously stole for- 
 ward a step or two, and looked and listened.
 
 288 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 He was clown-stairs again instantly ; lie had only 
 gone to the first floor, and had not opened any door, 
 or Neal nmst have heard it : had not, in fact, been 
 long enough to open one. The note was gone from 
 his hand, and Xeal wondered where he had left it. 
 
 He went into the study, and came out without 
 the light, an overcoat on, and his hat in his hand. 
 The moonlight shone in now through the fan-light 
 over the front door, and ]N'eal could see so much. 
 He appeared to be coixdng towards the pantry : ^N'eal 
 silently closed the door and slipped the noiseless bolt. 
 Neal took very good care to keep his own locks and 
 bolts well oiled. 
 
 Dr. Davenal essayed to open the pantry-door and 
 found it fastened. He shook it, knocked at it, not 
 over gently. Keal, too great a diplomatist to be 
 taken at a loss, flung off his coat, waistcoat, and 
 slippers, threw back his braces, rumpled his hair, 
 and opened the door to his master with the air of a 
 man just aroused from his bed. 
 
 "Why do you sleep with the door locked, Neal?" 
 — and the question was put in an imperative tone. 
 
 " I — it is but very rare that I do, sir. I must 
 have shot the bolt last night without thinking of it." 
 
 "I won't have it done. Nobody shall sleep in 
 my house with a locked door. It is a dangerous
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 289 
 
 habit. Were a fire to take place, and the sleeper a 
 heavy one, he might not be aroused in time. Don't 
 do it ai^ain. Neal," he continued, chancrincr his 
 tone, " I am summoned out farther away than usual. 
 I don't care to disturb Miss Davenal — you can tell 
 them to-morrow morning. I shall not be home all 
 day." 
 
 " Have you to go far, sir?" inquired Xeal. 
 
 " Yes. I don't expect to be home all day, I tell 
 you, and that's why I bid you inform them. Nobody 
 is to sit up for me to-morrow night : I may be de- 
 tained longer. Tell Miss Davenal so." 
 
 " Very well, sir," replied Neal. " Is the carriage 
 ready for you?" 
 
 Neal put this cunningly. He felt sure his master 
 was not going in the carriage. 
 
 " I don't require the carriage. That's all, ISTeal ; you 
 can go to bed again. I was obliged to disturb you." 
 
 Dr. Davenal turned, walked straight to the front 
 door, and let himself out at it, closing it securely after 
 him. Xeal waited a moment, rearranged his attire a 
 little, and then stepped also to the front door and 
 drew the heavy bolt across it. No danger now of his 
 master's coming in with his latch-key to pounce upon 
 him. 
 
 Neal got a light, went into the study, and took a 
 
 I
 
 290 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 leisurely survey. He was scarcely rewarded. There 
 was notliing whatever about, more than on other 
 mornings : no signs remained of the stranger's visit, 
 not a trace that could betray any disturbance on the 
 part of Dr. Davenal. The sherry and biscuits were 
 put up : ISTeal walked across to the dining-room and 
 found them in the sideboard, just as he had left them 
 on the previous night. The glass, used, stood on it. 
 Neal solaced himself with some of the sherry, and 
 went back to the study. 
 
 The old cloth was undisturbed on the table, the 
 blotting-book and inkstand lying on it. Keal looked 
 through the book, but received no satisfaction. He 
 examined the pens, and saw that in one the ink was 
 not yet dry. In the bedroom the clothes which his 
 master had taken off lay about ; Mr. Neal en passant 
 visited the pockets and found them empty ; and the 
 bed was pressed on the outside, but had not been 
 slept in. That curious visit in the night might have 
 been a dream, for all there was left to tell of it. 
 
 " But there's that note yet," thought Neal. " ^Yhat 
 did he take it up-stairs for, and where did he leave it ?" 
 
 Stealing up the stairs in his stockinged feet, shad- 
 ing the light in his hand, Neal came to the vestibule, 
 and looked on the table. He looked on the stand 
 which held a beautifid. statue in marble, he looked up
 
 OSAYALD CRAY. 291 
 
 eYen at the frames of the pictures ; he looked every- 
 where. But there was no letter. 
 
 " I'm positive lie did not stop long enough to 
 open a door V ejaculated 'Neal, rather at a nonplus. 
 
 A bright thought struck him. He bent down, 
 shading still the light with his hand, and peered 
 under Miss Sara Davenal's door. And then came 
 Ideal's reward. He saw the corner of something 
 white quite close to him, not pushed entirely beyond 
 the door. Dr. Davenal, not to disturb his daughter, 
 had pushed his letter to her in that way. 
 
 Neal took out his pen-knife, and, with its help, 
 by dint of perseverance and ingenuity, succeeded in 
 drawing back the note, which he stole down-stairs 
 with, and into his own chamber. A little more 
 ingenuity with the pen-knife, and the envelope, not 
 yet fully dry, came open. Neal had obtained an 
 insight into some secrets in his life, but never one 
 so weighty as this, never one that touched on that 
 ugly word " murder" which was running through 
 Neal's mind : and his usually impassive face grew 
 streaked with scarlet in excitement. 
 
 " My dear Child, 
 
 *' Business connected with this most unhappy 
 secret obliges me to go out for a day, perhaps two.
 
 292 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 I shall leave a message with Neal. Do not appear to 
 know anything when he delivers it : hear it as though 
 you were a stranger to everything. Don't talk of 
 my absence to any one if you can help it. People 
 will conclude I have gone to see some patient at a 
 distance, as will your aunt : it is not necessary to 
 undeceive them. " E. D." 
 
 There was not so very much to be made out of 
 that, and the scarlet streaks faded again from Neal's 
 disappointed face. " This most unhappy secret," he 
 repeated over twice, as if the words bore some eupho- 
 nious sound. AVhatever it might be, the secret, it 
 was e^ddent that Miss Sara Davenal had been made 
 cognisant of it ; and Neal rather rejoiced in the pill it 
 must be for her, for he liked his young mistress not 
 one whit better than he liked his master. He read 
 the note again, refastened it in the envelope, stole 
 up-stairs to push it under the door, and then retired 
 to his late bed.
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 COMMOTION. 
 
 Meanwhile, Dr. Davenal was walking along tlie 
 streets of the town, lying so calm, so still in the 
 moonlight. J^J'ot with any hurried tread ; rather with 
 a slow one. In his restlessness of mind, he had come 
 out sooner than he need have come ; but bodily action 
 is a relief to mental anguish. 
 
 " Good -night, doctor ! or rather morning — for 
 that's what it is." 
 
 The salutation came from one of the general prac- 
 titioners of the town, a hard-worked apothecary, 
 whose business took him abroad a good deal at night. 
 He was hastening up a side street, near the town-hall, 
 and Dr. Davenal had not observed him. 
 
 "Ah, is it you, Smithson? A fine night, is it 
 not?" 
 
 " All nights are pretty near the same to me," re- 
 turned Mr. Smithson. " I see too much of them. I 
 wish folks would be so accommodating as to choose
 
 294 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 the day to be ill in. I don't know wlio'd be one of 
 ns. It's not often that we see you abroad at night, 
 though, doctor!" 
 
 "ISTot often. We can't help it sometimes, you 
 know. Good-night." 
 
 They were bound different ways. The doctor had 
 walked on his, when Mr. Smithson came running 
 back. 
 
 "Dr. Davenal, what is the truth about Lady 
 Oswald? I hear she's dead." 
 
 " She is — unhappily." 
 
 "And the re]3ort going about is, that she died 
 from the effects of chloroform ! Could not rally 
 after inhaling it." 
 
 "Ah, it's a sad thing," replied the doctor; "a 
 grievous thing. There's the dark side in these new 
 discoveries of our practice : sacrificing the few while 
 blessing the many. Good-night, I say. I can't stop." 
 
 " It's true, then, that it was the chloroform ?" 
 
 " Yes, it's true." 
 
 Dr. Davenal increased his pace : he was in no 
 mood for questioning, and this in particular was 
 painful to him. A short while, and he stood before 
 the abbey, looking up at its w^indows. He was 
 sorry to disturb Mark, but he deemed it was neces- 
 sarv, and he rang the night bell.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 295 
 
 A new bell wliicli Mark Cray had caused to be 
 placed in the house since he took it, and which rang 
 himself up, not his household. Dr. Davenal waited, 
 but the ring was unanswered, and he rang again, 
 with the like result. 
 
 A third summons brought Mark to the window, 
 which he threw up, half asleep still. " If that's the 
 way you are going to let your night applicants ring, 
 Mark Cray, almost as good not put up the bell." 
 
 Mark Cray could scarcely believe his eyes when 
 he saw who was the speaker. " I was in a heavy 
 sleep," he answered. " Did you ring more than once?" 
 
 A heavy sleep ! Truly Dr. Davenal marvelled at 
 the words. He marvelled that sleep could have 
 visited Mark Cray that night, after his share in its 
 fatal work 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Mark. "Am I 
 wanted?" 
 
 "It is I who want you," said the doctor. "1 
 must say a word to you if you'll come down. I am 
 called out of town." 
 
 Mark attired himself sufficiently to descend, 
 which he did in a state of wonder. He had never 
 received a night visit from Dr. Davenal ; it was quite 
 out of the usual order of things, and he would about 
 as soon have expected to see a live kangaroo wait
 
 296 OSWALD CKxVY. 
 
 upon him. He opened the front door, and they 
 stepped into the large parlour. 
 
 "Who is ill?" inquired Mark. "Are you called 
 out far?" 
 
 "I am going out on a little private business of 
 my own. The train for Merton will be througli 
 presently, and I shall take it. If " 
 
 "Why did you not tell me last night?" inter- 
 rupted INIark. 
 
 " Because I did not then know I should have to 
 go. You must take my patients for me. What I 
 wished particularly to say to you was about the 
 inquest. They can't call it for to-morrow, — that is, 
 to-day — Monday ; but I think they are sure to hold 
 it on Tuesday. If I am not back" 
 
 " \A^iat inquest ?" interrupted Mark, wonderingly. 
 
 " The inquest on Lady Oswald." 
 
 " My goodness ! Do you think they'll get up an 
 inquest over her?" 
 
 "Of course they will. V\Tiat are you dreaming 
 of? The remote cause of her death was the acci- 
 dent to the train. I am not quite sure of being 
 back. I expect to be home on Tuesday morning 
 early : but it is possible I may be detained a little 
 longer. If I am not back, Mark, you will be the 
 only witness — at least, the only one who can speak
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 297 
 
 to the facts of the death. Let me advise you to say 
 as little as possible. Volunteer no information ; 
 answer their questions briefly ; and don't get into a 
 long-winded narration, as you are apt to do, other- 
 wise you may betray yourself. You will not mis- 
 take me/' Dr. Davenal added. '' I have always 
 been open, truthful, candid as the day ; and if I so 
 speak now it is in your interest. I was thinking 
 this over a great deal last evening after I left you, 
 and I see that it is essential for your good name in 
 your profession that the facts of the case should not 
 be made known. Do not suppose I advise you to a 
 direct deviation from the truth ; nothing of the sort. 
 * Chloroform was exhibited with a view to lessen her 
 sufferings, and she never rallied from it,' is all you 
 need say. Similar cases are imhappily not unknown ; 
 I fear not very uncommon ; and the coroner will not 
 be likely to exact minute particulars, or inquire 
 whether you gave it her, or whether I did. He will 
 assume that we acted in concert." 
 
 Mark Cray nodded. He was ner^^ously and in- 
 cessantly pushing back his hair. 
 
 " I know how fond you are of talking," resumed 
 Dr. Davenal, " therefore T deemed it well to give you 
 this caution. To tell you tlie truth, I had rather not be 
 at the inquest, and shall not be sorry if I can't get back."
 
 298 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " Are you going away on purpose ? " suddenly 
 asked Mark, who was much given to leap to conclu- 
 sions. 
 
 *' Certainly not. I am going on an important 
 matter of my own. Look here, Mark Cray : one good 
 turn deserves another. It will be concluded in the 
 town that 1 am called to a patient at a long distance : 
 as I have been before, you know, and detained out 
 two or three days. People will be sure to think it 
 now, and there's no necessity to undeceive them. You 
 will oblige me in this. I don't want the town to con- 
 cern itself with my private affairs : let people think I 
 am with a patient. They don't know to the contrary 
 at home." 
 
 " I shan't say anything to the contrary," said Mark. 
 " Let people think what they will : they are a set of 
 busy-bodies at the best." 
 
 Dr. Davenal departed. And Mr. Cray went back 
 to his room, sleepy still, but wondering in the midst 
 of it what could have called away the doctor suddenly 
 to a distance. 'No letter could have arrived in the 
 middle of the night, Mark argued : and a suspicion 
 crossed his mind that he was, in spite of his denial, 
 going away to avoid the inquest. 
 
 The doctor walked over to the station, there to 
 await the train. He had given this caution, as to
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 299 
 
 Mark's testimony at the inquest, entirely in liis good 
 feeling towards him, his solicitude for his welfare. 
 For himself, he did hope he should not be back for it. 
 Inconvenient questions might be asked, and he did 
 not relish the idea of standing up and avowing that 
 lie had so far helped-on Lady Oswald's death as to 
 have joined in giving her the chloroform : he could 
 not avow it without testifying to a deliberate false- 
 hood : yet he must do it, or betray Mark Cray. But 
 he had a matter of greater importance to think of 
 than the inquest : a matter that was weighing down 
 his heart with its dread. Of all the passengers that 
 train contained, soon to be whirling on its way to 
 Merton, not one had the sickening care to battle with 
 that was distracting the flourishing and envied phy- 
 sician. 
 
 The first to enter the breakfast-room that morning 
 at his residence was his sister. The meal was always 
 laid in the dining-room. Miss Davenal wore her 
 usual morning costume, a go^\ni of that once fashion- 
 able but nearly obsolete material, called nankin — or 
 nankeen, as some spell it. It was not made up 
 fashionably, but in the old scant style, and it made 
 Miss Davenal's tall spare form look taller and sparer. 
 She wore it for breakfast only, generally dressing for 
 the day as soon as the meal was over. Sara followed.
 
 300 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 in a flowing dress of delicate sprigged muslin, and slie 
 took her seat at once at the breakfast-table. 
 
 " Is your papa out of his room yet, do you know ?" 
 
 " I have not seen him," replied Sara, a faint red 
 tinging her pale face at the half-evasive answer* 
 Very ]3ale she looked : ominously pale. Had Miss 
 Bettina been gifted with preternatural penetration, 
 she might have detected that some great dread was 
 upon her. 
 
 But J\Iiss Bettina was on that morning especially 
 self-occupied. On the previous Saturday Dr. Dave- 
 nal had told her that certain country friends were 
 coming into Hallingham on that day, Monday, and 
 he should invite them to dinner ; or else that he 
 had invited them : in her deafness she did not catch 
 which. She had replied by asking him what he 
 would have for dinner, and he said they would settle 
 all that on IMonday morning. Monday morning was 
 now come ; and Miss Bettina, a punctilious house- 
 keeper, choosing to have everything in order and to 
 treat visitors liberally, was on the fidget to make 
 the arrangements, and waited impatiently for Dr. 
 Davenal. Watton, a fidget also in the domestic de- 
 partment, liking at any rate to get her orders in 
 time, had come in with Miss DavenaL 
 
 Miss Davenal rano^ the bell : an intimation to
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 301 
 
 Neal that they were ready for the coffee. She turned 
 to the table, and the first thmg that struck her sharp 
 eyes in its arrangements was, that only two breakfast 
 cups w^ere on it. 
 
 " What is Xeal thinking of this morning?" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "I don't fancy my master is stirring yet," ob- 
 served Watton. " I have not heard him." 
 
 " Xonsense !" returned her mistress. " When did 
 you ever know your master not stirring at eight 
 o'clock ?" 
 
 "Not often, ma'am, it's true," was Watton's 
 answer. " But it might happen. I know he was 
 disturbed in the night." 
 
 Sara glanced up with a half-frightened glance. 
 She dropped her head again, and began making scores 
 on the cloth with her silver fork. 
 
 "It was the oddest thing," began Watton — and 
 she was speaking in the low clear tones which made 
 every word distinct to Miss Davenal. " Last night 
 I was undressing with the blind up, without a candle, 
 for the moon was light as day, when I saw a man 
 turn in at the gate, and I said to myself, ' Here comes 
 somebody bothering for master !' He made a spring 
 to the side, and crouched himself amid the laurels 
 that skirt the rails by the lane, and stopped there
 
 302 OSWALD CPvAY. 
 
 looking at the house. ' Very strange ! ' I said to myself 
 again ; ' that's not the way sick folk's messengers come 
 in.' After a minute he walked on, brushing close to 
 the shrubs, afraid I suppose of being seen, and I 
 heard him tap at the window of the doctor's consult- 
 ing-room. Ma'am, if ever I thought of a robber in 
 my life, I thought of one then, and if it hadn't been 
 for my presence of mind, I should have rose the house 
 with my screams" 
 
 " Be silent, Watton ! " sharply interrupted Miss 
 DavenaL " Look there ! You are frightening her to 
 death." 
 
 She had extended her finger, pointing at Sara. 
 Sara, her face more like death than life, in its ghastly 
 whiteness, was gazing at Watton, her eyes strained, 
 her lips apart, as one under the influence of some 
 great terror. Was she afraid of what might be com- 
 ing ? It looked so. 
 
 o 
 
 '' There's nothing to be alarmed at, Miss Sara' 
 
 "Don't tell it ; don't tell it," gasped Sara, putting 
 up her hands. " It does frighten me." 
 
 '' But indeed there is nothing to be frightened at, 
 as you'll hear, Miss Sara," persisted the woman. 
 "It's a fact that I was a little frightened myself, one 
 does hear of housebreakers getting into houses in so 
 strange a manner, and I went out of my room and
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 303 
 
 leaned over the banisters and listened. It was all 
 right, for I heard the doctor open the hall door 
 and take the man into his consulting-room, and shut 
 himself in with him. How long the man stopped, 
 and who he was, I can't tell; he did not go away 
 wliile I was awake — but, ma'am, that's how I know 
 my master was disturbed in the night." 
 
 " Watton I" — and as Sara spoke her cheeks be- 
 came crimson, her voice imperative, — " do you deem 
 it lies in your service "here to watch the movements 
 of your master, and to comment upon them after- 
 wards ? '^ 
 
 The moment the words had left her lips, she felt 
 how unwise they were ; but she had so spoken in her 
 perplexity, her soreness of heart. Watton turned her 
 eyes on her young mistress in sheer amazement. '■ 
 
 " Watch my master's movements ! Why, Miss 
 Sara, you can't think I'd do such a thing. I watched 
 to — if I may so express it — protect my master ; to 
 protect the house, lest harm should be meant it. 
 Decent folk don't come in at night as that man 
 came in." 
 
 !N"eal had entered, and was disposing his eatables 
 on the table. Miss Davenal drew his attention to 
 the shortness of the cups. 
 
 " It is quite right, ma'am. The doctor went out
 
 304 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 in the middle of the night ; at least about two in the 
 morning ; and he charged me to tell you he should not 
 be at home all day ; perhaps not all night. Nobody 
 is to sit up for him." 
 
 "Where's he gone?" asked Miss Bettina. 
 
 Neal could not tell. His master had said he was 
 going to a distance. But Miss Bettina could not 
 make it out at all, and she asked question upon 
 question. How had he gone ? — the carriage was not 
 out. Walked away on foot, and said he was going 
 to a distance and might not be home for a day and a 
 night ? It was the most mysterious, extraordinary 
 proceeding she ever heard of. " Did you see or hear 
 anything of a strange man coming in in the night ?" 
 she asked of Neal. 
 
 "]S'o, ma'am," replied Xeal, with his usual im- 
 passibility. "I see my master's bed has not been 
 slept in ; and he has taken an overcoat with him." 
 
 Sara lifted her burning face. It was as one 
 stricken with fever. 
 
 " Let it rest ; let it rest, Aunt Bettina ! Wait 
 until papa is home, and ask particulars of him. If 
 patients require him at a distance, it is his duty to 
 go to them." 
 
 The last words were spoken defiantly ; not at her 
 aunt, but at the servants. She felt on the very verge
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 305 
 
 of desperation. What disastrous consequences might 
 not this proclamation of the night's work bring forth ! 
 
 "Let it rest !" retorted Miss Bettina. "Yes, that 
 is what you young and careless ones would like to do. 
 Look at my position ! The responsible mistress of 
 this house, and left at an uncertainty whether people 
 are coming to dinner or whether they are not. Your 
 jjapa must have gone clean out of his wits to go off 
 and not leave word." 
 
 " You can fix upon a dinner as well as papa can. 
 Aunt Bettina." 
 
 " Fix upon a dinner ! It's not that. It is the not 
 knowing whether there's to be a dinner fixed upon ; 
 whether people are invited, or not, to eat it." 
 
 When Miss Davenal was put out about domestic 
 arrangements it took a great deal to put her in again. 
 !Neal and W^atton were questioned and cross-ques- 
 tioned as to the events of the night, and breakfast 
 was got over in a commotion. Sara shivered with a 
 nameless fear, and wondered whether that dreadful 
 secret might not become known. 
 
 A secret which bore for Sara Davenal all the 
 more terror from the fact that she was but imper- 
 fectly acquainted with its nature. Dr. Davenal had 
 seen fit for certain reasons to call her down to his 
 room, and she had there seen the ominous visitor : 
 I 2
 
 306 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 but the particulars had been kept from her. That 
 there existed a secret, and a terrible one, which 
 might burst at any hour over their heads, bringing 
 with it disgrace as well as misery, she had been 
 obliged to learn ; but its precise nature she was not 
 told ; was not allowed, it may be said, to guess at. 
 Dr. Davenal so far spared her. He spared her from 
 the best of motives, forgetting that suspense is, of all 
 human pain, the worst to bear. 
 
 With the exception of what that little note told 
 her, which she saw lying inside her door when she 
 rose in the morning, she knew nothing of the motives 
 of her father's journey ; where he had gone, or why 
 he had gone. She only knew it was imperative that 
 that night's visit to the house should remain a secret, 
 uncommented upon, unglanced at. And now the ser- 
 vants knew of it — had seen the stranger come in — 
 might talk about it in doors and out ! ISTo wonder 
 that Sara Davenal shivered 1 — that she grew sick at 
 heart 1
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 GOIXG DOWN TO THE FUNERAL. 
 
 The commotion in the town arose that morning to 
 its height : it equalled the commotion at Miss Dave- 
 nal's breakfast-table. But not from the same excit- 
 ing cause. The one was led to by the curious ab- 
 sence of Dr. Davenal ; the other had its source in the 
 death of Lady Oswald. 
 
 She had lived so long amongst them — had been, 
 so to say, the head of the social and visiting com- 
 munity of Hallingham ! A great lady once, the Lady 
 Oswald of Thorndyke. Had she died in the common 
 course of nature, after weeks or months of illness, it 
 would still have created a stir ; but to have died 
 from the inhaling of chloroform consequent upon the 
 railway accident, did cause very great and unwonted 
 excitement. People were shocked at her death : they 
 mourned for the somewhat eccentric old lady- who 
 had been seen driven through their streets in her 
 close carriage for years ; but they never cast so much
 
 308 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 as a shadow of reproacli towards the doctors who 
 might be said to be, however unwittingly, the authors 
 of it. They railed at the chloroform, calling it un- 
 certain, dangerous stuff ; but not the slightest reflec- 
 tion was thrown on the judgment which had caused 
 her to inhale it. 
 
 Mark Cray was beset with questions and remarks, 
 especially from his medical brethren in the town. 
 In Dr. Davenal's absence, people flew to him for par- 
 ticulars. He remembered the doctor's caution, and 
 said as little as possible. It was an unpleasant sub- 
 ject to speak of, he observed to them — they could 
 understand that. But the curious questioners only 
 understood it partially, and rather wondered why Mr. 
 Cray should be so chary of his information. 
 
 The inquest took place on the Tuesday, as Dr. 
 Davenal had surmised it would. It was held quite 
 as a matter of course — not with a view to elicit the 
 cause of death ; that was already known — simply 
 because the law rendered an inquest obligatory. 
 
 The doctor was not back for it, and Mr. Cray 
 was the principal witness. The operation had been 
 most satisfactorily performed by Dr. Davenal, he 
 testified, but Lady Oswald did not rally from the 
 effects of the chloroform. They had tried every means 
 to arouse her without result. The coroner presumed
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 309 
 
 the chloroform had been administered with all due 
 caution : he felt persuaded it would be by so experi- 
 enced a surgeon as Dr. Davenal. Certainly, was the 
 answer of Mark Cray. It was given her with the 
 best of motives : to spare her acute suffering : and no 
 one could more bitterly regret the result than they did. 
 It was impossible to foresee, he continued, that this 
 great blessing — yes, he must still call it so — to suffer- 
 ing humanity, which had spared anguish to thousands, 
 perhaps he might say had spared lives, would have an 
 opposite effect upon Lady Oswald, and bring death to 
 her instead of relief. He had never for one moment 
 in his own judgment doubted the expediency of giving 
 it to her : were the thing to come over again (the re- 
 sult being hidden from him) he should do the same. 
 
 Not a word that Mark Cray said but had its 
 weight, and was appreciated. The death was regarded 
 as a pure misfortune, a sort of accident that could 
 not be prevented by poor human foresight, and for 
 which blame was attachable to no one. And the 
 verdict was in accordance with this. 
 
 The only one on whom the facts were yet destined 
 to make an unpleasant and not satisfactory impression, 
 was Mr. Oswald Cray. The first intimation of Lady 
 Oswald's death reached him through the "Times" 
 newspaper. As junior in the firm, he lived in the
 
 310 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 house in Parliament Street, the senior partners pre- 
 ferring residences out of town. The chief part of the 
 house was devoted to their business purposes, and Mr. 
 Oswald Cray had but two or three rooms for his pri- 
 vate use. On the Thursday morning, the Times was 
 brought to him as usual while he was at breakfast. 
 It was folded with the supplement outside, the deaths 
 uppermost ; and on putting it aside to open the more 
 important part, his eye caught the word Oswald. 
 
 He looked further : and nothing could exceed his 
 surprise. He gazed at the announcement with a feel- 
 ing of disbelief, almost as though he was in a dream. 
 "At her residence in Hallingham, Susan Hannah 
 Lady Oswald, aged seventy-one, widow of Sir John 
 Oswald of Thorndyke." 
 
 The date of her death, probably by an oversight, 
 had not been put in, and Oswald Cray was left to 
 conjecture it. Certainly he did not suppose it had 
 occurred so far back as on the previous Sunday, the 
 day after he left Hallingham. 
 
 What had killed her ? The accident ? He had 
 been given to understand that night that she was not 
 materially injured : he now supposed she must have 
 been. 'Whj had nobody written to acquaint him ? 
 He would have been glad to see her for a final fare- 
 well ; would have thought nothing of his time and
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 311 
 
 trouble in going down for it. ^lark might have 
 written : he could not remember having corre- 
 sponded with Mark in all his life, half brothers 
 though they were ; but still Mark might have gone 
 out of his way to drop him a line now. Parkins 
 might have written ; in fact he considered it was 
 Parkins's duty to have written, and he should tell 
 her so : and Dr. Davenal might have written. Of 
 the three mentioned, Oswald Cray would soonest 
 have expected the doctor to write, and the omission 
 struck him as being somewhat singular. 
 
 The post brought news. Amidst the mass of 
 letters that came for the firm was one to liimself. 
 He saw the Hallingham post-mark and opened it at 
 once. 
 
 A look of blank disappointment, mingled with 
 surprise, settled on his face as he read. It was not 
 from Dr. Davenal, from Mark Cray, or from Parkins ; 
 it gave him no details, any more than if he had been 
 the greatest stranger to Lady Oswald. It was a 
 formal intimation from the undertaker that her late 
 ladyship's funeral would take place on Friday at 
 eleven o'clock, and requesting his attendance at it, 
 if convenient. 
 
 "Her funeral to-morrow!" ejaculated Oswald. 
 " Then she must liave died almost immediately. Per-
 
 312 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 haps the very night I came up. Why couldn't some- 
 body write ?" 
 
 He arranged business matters so as to go down 
 that afternoon, and arrived at Hallingham between 
 six and seven o'clock. Giving his portmanteau to a 
 porter, he went on to his usual place of sojourn, the 
 " Apple Tree." It was near to the terminus, a little 
 beyond the town, one of the quiet country inns now 
 nearly obsolete. An old-fashioned, plain, roomy house, 
 whose swinging sign-board stood out before its door, 
 and whose productive garden of vegetables and fruit 
 stretched out behind it. I^o fashionable person would 
 look at it twice. Oswald Cray had been recommended 
 to it long ago as his place of sojourn in Hallingham, 
 where his stay seldom lasted more than two days : 
 and he had found himself so comfortable, so quiet, so 
 entirely at home, that he would not have exchanged 
 it for the grandest hotel in Hallingham, had the said 
 hotel graciously intimated that it would receive him 
 for nothing. 
 
 The host, whose name was John Hamos, came 
 forward to receive him ; a respectable, worthy man, 
 Avith a portly person and red face, who might be seen 
 occasionally in a white apron washing up glasses, 
 and who waited on his guests himseK. He and 
 Oswald were the best of friends.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 313 
 
 " Good-evening, sir. My wife said you'd be down 
 to-night or in the morning. We were sure you'd 
 attend the bur}dng. A sad thing, sir, is it not ?" 
 
 " It is a very sad thing, John," returned Oswald, 
 " I seem as if I could not believe it. It was only this 
 morning that I received the tidings. What did she 
 die of ? The accident to the train ? " 
 
 " iSTo, sir, she didn't die of that. Leastways, that 
 was not the immediate cause of death, though of 
 course it must be said to have led to it. She died 
 from the effects of chloroform," 
 
 "Died from — what did you say?" asked Oswald, 
 staring at the man. 
 
 *' From chloroform, sir." 
 
 "From chloroform!" he repeated. ''I don't im- 
 derstand." 
 
 And he looked as if he did not. As if it were im- 
 possible to take in the words or their sense. John 
 Hamos continued. 
 
 "It seems, sir, that on the Sunday it was dis- 
 covered that her ladyship had sustained some internal 
 injury — to the ribs, I believe, or near-abouts — and 
 she had to submit to an operation. Chloroform was 
 given her while it was performed, and she never 
 rallied from it." 
 
 "Who gave her the chloroform?"
 
 ^14 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 «Dr. DavenaU' 
 
 "Dr. Davenal!" echoed Mr. Oswald Cray, and 
 his accent of astonishment was so great, so unmistak- 
 able, that the landlord looked at him in surprise. 
 « Why, he— he " 
 
 "What, sir?" 
 
 Oswald had brought his words to a sudden stand- 
 still. His face was one picture of doubt, of bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 " It could not have been Dr. Davenal." 
 
 " Yes it was, sir," repeated John Hamos. " Who 
 else would be likely to undertake the operation but 
 him ? He and Mr. Cray were together, but it was the 
 doctor who performed it. As of course it would be." 
 
 "But he did not give the chloroform ?" 
 
 " Why, yes he did, sir. He gave it for the best. 
 As was said afterwards at the inquest, they could not 
 possibly foresee that what saved pain and was a bless- 
 ing to thousands, would prove fatal to her ladyship.'' 
 
 " Who said that at the inquest ? Dr. Davenal ?" 
 
 " Mr. Cray, sir. The doctor wasn't present at 
 the inquest, he was away from the town. He went 
 away in the night, somebody said, just after the 
 death : was fetched out to some patient at a dis- 
 tance, and didn't get back here till — Wednesday 
 morning, I think it was."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 315 
 
 "And she never rallied from the chloroform?" 
 *' Never at all, sir. She died under it." 
 Oswald Cray said no more. He went up to the 
 bed-room that he always used, there to wash off 
 some of the travelling dust. But instead of pro- 
 ceeding at once to do so, he stood in thought with 
 folded arms and bent brow, John Hamos's infori^ia- 
 tion respecting the chloroform troubling his brain. 
 
 Why should it trouble him? Could not he be- 
 lieve, as others did, that it was given in all due hope 
 and confidence, according to the best judgment of the 
 surgeons ? No, he could not believe it, so far as re- 
 garded the chief surgeon, Dr. Davenal : and the 
 reason was this. 
 
 On the night of the accident, when Dr. Davenal 
 jumped into the carriage that was about to proceed 
 to the scene,* he jumped into a seat by the side of 
 Oswald Cray. They entered into conversation, and 
 the topic of it was, not unnaturally, accidents in 
 general It led to the subject of chloroform, and 
 Dr. Davenal expressed his opinion upon that new- 
 fashioned aid to science, just as freely as he after- 
 wards expressed it to Mark Cray. 
 
 How strange are the incidents, the' small events 
 that shape the course of human destiny ! But for 
 that accidental conversation — and may it not be called
 
 316 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 accidental ? — half the trouble that is about to be re- 
 lated never would have taken place. And the cruel 
 shadow, that was waiting to spread its wings over the 
 days of more than one wayfarer on the path of life, 
 would have found no spot to darken with its evil. 
 
 Dr. Davenal spoke his opinion freely to Oswald 
 Cray with regard to chloroform. He did not deny its 
 great boon, sparing pain to many whose sufferings 
 would otherwise be almost intolerable ; but he said 
 that there were some few to whom he would as soon 
 give poison as chloroform, for the one would be just 
 as fatal as the other. And he instanced Lady Oswald. 
 
 The unfortunate fact of Lady Oswald being in the 
 disabled train to which they were hastening, possibly 
 one of its wounded, no doubt suggested her name 
 to Dr. Davenal as his example. There were other 
 people whom he attended — a slight few — to whom he 
 deemed chloroform would be as pernicious as to Lady 
 Oswald : but she was in question, as it were, that 
 night, and he cited her. There must have been some 
 fatality in it. 
 
 " She is one, if I am any judge, who could not 
 bear it ; who would be almost certain not to survive 
 its effects," were the words he used to Oswald. " I 
 would as soon give Lady Oswald a dose of poison as 
 suffer her to come near chloroform."
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 3l7 
 
 The words, spoken to Oswald only, not to tlie 
 other inmates of the carriage who were busy talking 
 on their own score, had not made any particular im- 
 pression upon him at the time, but they returned to 
 his memory now with awakened force. He asked 
 himself what it could mean. Dr. Davenal had dis- 
 tinctly told him, or equivalent to it, that the inhaling 
 of chloroform would be as poison to Lady Oswald ; 
 he was now assured by John Hamos that, not four- 
 and-twenty hours subsequent to that conversation, 
 he, Dr. Davenal, had himseK administered chloro- 
 form to her. And the result was death. Death — as 
 Dr. Davenal had expressed his firm conviction it 
 would be. 
 
 Mr. Oswald Cray could only come to the conclu- 
 sion that there must be some mistake in the state- 
 ment of the facts to him. It was impossible to arrive 
 at any other conclusion. That there was no mistake 
 on his own part, as to the opinion expressed to hitn 
 by the doctor, he knew ; he recalled the very words 
 in which it was spoken ; spoken deliberately and 
 elaborately ; not a mere allusion or sentence. About 
 that, there was no doubt ; but he felt that a mistake 
 must lie somewhere. The chloroform could not have 
 been given by Dr. Davenal ; perhaps he had not even 
 been present at the operation.
 
 318 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 He quitted the Apple Tree, and bent his steps to 
 Lady Oswald's. Parkins came to him in a bnrst of 
 grief. Parkins was — it has been said so before — 
 genuinely grieved at her lady's death, and it showed 
 itseK chiefly by breaking into a shower of tears with 
 every fresh person she saw. One of the first questions 
 put to her by Mr. Oswald Cray was as to her not 
 having written to inform him of the death. He 
 wished to know why she had not. 
 
 "I don't know why, sir," she sobbed, "except 
 that I have been bewildered ever since it happened. 
 I have been as one out of my miad, sir, with the 
 shock and the grief. I'm su.re I beg your pardon 
 for the neglect, but it never so much as struck me 
 till yesterday, when the imdertaker was here about 
 the funeral. He asked who was to be invited to it, 
 and then it came into my mind that you ought to 
 have been wrote to, but I said perhaps Mr. Cray had 
 done it." 
 
 " Well, sit down while you talk, Parkins," he said 
 in a kind tone. " I can understand that you have 
 been very much shocked by it. Are any of Lady 
 Oswald's relatives here V 
 
 " There's that nephew of hers, sir, the parson ; the 
 l^oor gentleman that she'd send a little money to 
 sometimes. He heard of it accidental, he says, and
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 319 
 
 came off at once with his brother. They got here 
 this morning. Very nice people, both of them, sir, 
 but they seem poor. They think no doubt that my 
 lady's money is left to them, as I dare say it is. 
 She " 
 
 *' I wish to ask you a question or two about the 
 death, Parkins," he interrupted in a pointed manner. 
 None could check undue topics with more dignity 
 than he. "When was it discovered that Lady Os- 
 wald was seriously injured ?" 
 
 "Not until the Sunday, sir. When ]\Ir. Cray 
 came home with her here on the return from Hildon, 
 he wanted to examine into her state, but she was 
 very obstinate, and persisted in saying she'd not be 
 touched that night ; that she wasn't hurt. I fancy Dr. 
 Davenal thought it was wrong of Mr. Cray not to 
 have insisted upon it — but Mr. Cray himself did not 
 think there was any grave injury : he told me so 
 then. The next morning I thought they'd both be 
 here. Dr. Davenal and Mr. Cray ; but Mr. Cray came 
 alone, the doctor it appeared had been sent for to 
 Thorndyke " 
 
 "To Thorndyke?" involuntarily interrupted Os- 
 wald. 
 
 " Yes, sir, somebody was ill there. However, he, 
 the doctor, was back and up here in the afternoon.
 
 322 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 " But tliey must have had it with them?" 
 
 " AVell, of course they must, sir. It was not 
 produced, though, while I was there. They said my 
 lady grew agitated — it was Mr. Cray said that — that 
 my falling down helped to agitate her ; but it will 
 take a great deal to make me believe there was any 
 need for them to use chloroform. It has cost a good 
 lady her life ; I know that. She had her little tem- 
 pers and her fidgety ways, poor dear lady, but she 
 was one of the best of mistresses. It's just as if they 
 had done it to kill her." 
 
 Did the words grate on the ear of Oswald Cray ? 
 — as though they bore all too significant a meaning. 
 Not yet ; not quite yet. This testimony of the maid's 
 had confirmed beyond doubt that Dr. Davenal had 
 been the chief and acting surgeon : how then recon- 
 cile that fact with the opinion expressed to him not 
 many hours before the death ? He could not tell ; he 
 could not think ; he could not account for it by any 
 reasoning of any sort, subtle or simple. He was as 
 one in a mazy dream, seeing nothing distinctly. 
 
 When he quitted the house, he turned again and 
 bent his steps to the abbey. Possibly he deemed 
 INIark could solve his difficulties. Mark was not in 
 however when he got there, only CaroHne. 
 
 Mrs. Cray was in the large drawing-room. She
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 323 
 
 and the tea-table, at whicli she sat waiting for Mark, 
 looked quite lost in its space. The thought struck 
 Oswald as he entered. It had been the home of his 
 early childhood, the scene of occasional visits since 
 that period, but Oswald always thought that room 
 larger and larger every time he entered it. It was at 
 its window that he, a baby in arms, had been held by 
 the side of his mother, when the grand people from 
 Thorndyke in their carriage and four, her father and 
 mother, would drive past and cast up their faces of 
 stone. He had been too young to know anything 
 then, but afterwards, when he could begin to under- 
 stand, these stories of the passing by of Sir Oswald 
 Oswald were impressed upon him by his nurse. They 
 remained amidst his most vivid recollections. But 
 that he knew it was impossible to have been so — for 
 his mother had died when he was too young, and 
 there was no more standing there after her death to 
 watch for Sir Oswald — he could have affirmed now 
 that he remembered those times in all their full de- 
 tail : the steady pace of the fine horses, the bedizened 
 carriage — in those days it was the fashion to have 
 carriages bedizened — the servants in their claret 
 liveries, the impassive faces of Sir Oswald and his 
 lady. The fact was, it had all been described so 
 often and minutely to the young child Oswald, that*
 
 322 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 " But they must have had it with them ?" 
 
 " Well, of course they must, sir. It was not 
 j)rocluced, though, while I was there. They said my 
 lady grew agitated — it was Mr. Cray said that — that 
 my falling down helped to agitate her ; but it will 
 take a great deal to make me believe there was any 
 need for them to use cliloroform. It has cost a good 
 lady her life ; I know that. She had her little tem- 
 pers and her fidgety ways, poor dear lady, but she 
 was one of the best of mistresses. It's just as if they 
 had done it to kill her." 
 
 Did the words grate on the ear of Oswald Cray ? 
 — as though they bore all too significant a meaning. 
 Not yet ; not quite yet. This testimony of the maid's 
 had confirmed beyond doubt that Dr. Davenal had 
 been the chief and acting surgeon : how then recon- 
 cile that fact with the opinion expressed to him not 
 many hours before the death ? He could not tell ; he 
 could not think ; he could not account for it by any 
 reasoning of any sort, subtle or simple. He was as 
 one in a mazy dream, seeing nothing distinctly. 
 
 "When he quitted the house, he turned again and 
 bent his steps to the abbey. Possibly he deemed 
 ]\Iark could solve his difficulties. Mark was not in 
 however when he got there, only Caroline. 
 
 Mrs. Cray was in the large drawing-room. She
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 323 
 
 and the tea-table, at which she sat waiting for Mark, 
 looked quite lost in its space. The thought struck 
 Oswald as he entered. It had been the home of his 
 early childhood, the scene of occasional visits since 
 that period, but Oswald always thought that room 
 larger and larger every time he entered it. It was at 
 its window that he, a baby in arms, had been held by 
 the side of his mother, when the grand people from 
 Thorndyke in their carriage and four, her father and 
 mother, would drive past and cast up their faces of 
 stone. He had been too young to know anything 
 then, but afterwards, when he could begin to under- 
 stand, these stories of the passing by of Sir Oswald 
 Oswald were impressed upon him by his nurse. They 
 remained amidst his most vivid recollections. But 
 that he knew it was impossible to have been so — for 
 his mother had died when he was too young, and 
 there was no more standing there after her death to 
 watch for Sir Oswald — he could have affirmed now 
 that he remembered those times in all their full de- 
 tail : the steady pace of the fine horses, the bedizened 
 carriage — in those days it was the fashion to have 
 carriages bedizened — the servants in their claret 
 liveries, the impassive faces of Sir Oswald and his 
 lady. The fact was, it had all been described so 
 often and minutely to the young child Oswald, that"
 
 324 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 it remained on his memory as a thing seen, not 
 heard. 
 
 Mrs. Cray, gay in attire, wearied in countenance, 
 was quite alone. She wore a low evening dress of 
 blue silk, with lace and fringes and trimmings ; and 
 blue ribbons in her hair. Bather more dress than is 
 necessary for a quiet evening at home ; but she was 
 young and pretty and a bride, and — very fond of 
 finery in any shape. Her weary face lighted up with 
 smiles as she saw Oswald and rose to greet him : very, 
 very pretty did she look then. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you ! I had grown tired, 
 waiting for Mark. He went out the moment he had 
 swallowed his dinner — before he had swallowed it, I 
 think — and he is not in yet. Shall I tell you a secret, 
 Oswald?" 
 
 " Yes, if you please." 
 
 "I am quite disappointed. I shan't at all like 
 being a doctor's wife." 
 
 Her dark blue eyes were dancing with smiles as 
 she spoke. Oswald smiled too — at the joke. 
 
 "It is true, Mr. Oswald Cray. I don't speak 
 against my o^ti dear Mark : I'd not j)art with him : 
 but I do wish he was not a doctor. You don't know 
 how httle I see of him. He is in just at meals, and 
 not always to them."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 325 
 
 Oswald smiled still. ''You had lived in a doctor's 
 house, Mrs. Cray, and knew the routine of it." 
 
 " My uncle's house was not like this. AVlio can 
 compare the great Dr. Davenal at the top of the tree, 
 waiting at home for his patients to come to him, to 
 poor Mark Cray at the bottom, just beginning to 
 climb it ? It's not the same thing, Mr. Oswald Cray. 
 Mark has to be out, here and there and everywhere. 
 At the infirmary, dancing attendance on interminable 
 rows of beds one hour ; in some obscure corner of the 
 town another, setting somebody's leg, or watching a 
 case of fever. Mark says it won't go on quite as bad 
 as it has begun. This has been an unusually busy 
 week with liim, owing to the doctor's absence. He 
 left home on Sunday night, and was not back until 
 Wednesday. A great portion of Sunday also the 
 doctor passed at Thorndyke." 
 
 "His patient must have been very ill to keep 
 him away from Sunday until Wednesday," remarked 
 Oswald. 
 
 '' To tell you the truth," said Caroline, dropping 
 her voice in a manner that sounded rather mys- 
 terious, " we don't think he was with a patient. We 
 can't quite make out why he went or where he went. 
 He came here in the middle of the night and rang up 
 Mark. It was the night subsequent to Lady Oswald's
 
 326 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 death — 0, Oswald ! was not her death a shocking 
 thing?" 
 
 " Very," was the answer, gravely spoken. 
 
 "When Mark came home that Sunday evening 
 and told me Lady Oswald was dead, I cannot describe 
 to you how I felt. At first I could not believe it ; 
 and then I went — I went into hysterics. It was very 
 foolish of course, for hysterics do no good, but I could 
 not help it. You have come down to attend the 
 funeral to-morrow, I suppose?" 
 
 ^'Yes." 
 
 " Well — I was telling you about my uncle. He 
 came here in the middle of the night and rang up 
 Mark, who went down to him. When Mark came 
 up-stairs "^again, he said Dr. Davenal was going away 
 on some private errand which he had made a sort of 
 secret of to Mark. I fancy Mark was only half 
 awake and did not hear him clearly : all he under- 
 stood was, that the doctor was going somewhere by 
 train unexpectedly ; and Mark was to let it be as- 
 sumed in the town that he was visiting a patient at 
 a distance. Mark declared that he believed the 
 doctor was only absenting himseK to avoid attending 
 the coroner's inquest" 
 
 "Why should Mark think that ?— Why should 
 Dr. Davenal wish to avoid attending it?" reiter-
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 327 
 
 ated Oswald, strangely interested, he scarcely knew 
 why. 
 
 "I cannot tell you. I fancy the admission slipped 
 from Mark inadvertently, for he would not say a 
 syllable more. The next day, Monday, I saw Sara. 
 I asked her point blank where my uncle had gone, 
 remarking that there seemed to be some little mystery 
 connected with it, and she turned as white as the 
 grave and whispered to me not to talk so, to hold my 
 tongue for the love of Heaven. You'll take some 
 tea, won't you, Oswald ? I shall be so glad of an 
 excuse for making it." 
 
 Oswald, almost mechanically, said he would take 
 some, and she rang the bell for the urn. He began 
 to think all this strange and more strange; to ask 
 himself what it tended to. Dr. Davenal had gone 
 away to avoid the inquest ? — and his daughter when 
 spoken to upon the subject had turned as white as 
 the grave ? What did it mean ? 
 
 " Do you know the particulars of Lady Oswald's 
 death ?" he inquired as he stirred his tea. 
 
 " Yes. Don't you ? She died from chloroform. 
 They deemed it necessary to give it her, and she 
 never rallied from it." 
 
 ** Who gave it to her ? Which of them V 
 
 "Which of them?" repeated Caroline, lifting her
 
 328 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 eyes, thinking no doubt tlie question a superfluous 
 one. "They were both present, they would act in 
 concert one with the other. If you mean to cast 
 blame on them, Oswald, I should say you must cast 
 it conjointly. But they acted for the best." 
 
 " "I do not cast blame on them," he answered. 
 " I don't understand the affair sufficiently yet to cast 
 blame anywhere. It is a riddle to me." 
 
 "What is a riddle?' 
 
 " How Dr. — how they came to use chloroform at 
 aU." 
 
 "Why, it is in almost universal use now!" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Cray, surprised at the remark. '' There 
 is no riddle in that." 
 
 Oswald did not press it. In his opinion there 
 was a riddle ; one he began to think would not be 
 easy of solution. He finished his tea in silence. 
 By and by Mrs. Cray resumed. 
 
 " Mark seems not to like to talk of it. I asked 
 him a great many questions, as was natural, but he 
 put me off, saying I should be falling into hysterics 
 again. I told him that was nonsense, now the 
 shock was over ; but he would not talk of it, seemed 
 quite to wince when I pressed it. It was not a 
 pleasant subject for him, he said. And of course 
 it is not : and still less so for my uncle, whose
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 329 
 
 authority sways Mark. However good their inten- 
 tions were, it did kill her." 
 
 "Will Mark be long, do you suppose?" inquired 
 Oswald, breaking another long pause. 
 
 "As if I could tell, Oswald! I have been ex- 
 pecting him every minute this hour past. When I 
 grumble at Mark for staying out so, he tells me I 
 must blame his patients. Nay, but you are not 
 going yet !" she added, as he rose. "Mark is sure to 
 be in soon." 
 
 " I cannot well stay longer now," he answered. 
 " I shall see Mark in the morning. I suppose he 
 attends the funeral ?" 
 
 " Of course he will. They will both attend it. I 
 wish you would not hurry away ! " 
 
 He repeated his apology, and Caroline rang the 
 bell. In point of fact he wanted to caU on Dr. 
 Davenal. 
 
 Scarcely had the servant closed the door on Mr. 
 Oswald Cray than he met his brother. Mark was 
 coming along at a quick pace. 
 
 " Oswald, is it you ! Have you been to the abbey?" 
 
 "I have been taking tea with your wife, and 
 
 waiting for you. She is nearly out of patience. 
 
 Mark !" he continued, passing his arm within his 
 
 brother's and leading him a few steps away while 
 
 I p 2
 
 330 OSAVALD CKAY. 
 
 he talked, " wliat a shockiDg thing this is about Lady 
 Oswald!" 
 
 "Ay, it is that. So unexpected. "Won't you 
 come in ?" 
 
 *' Not again to-night. I want to know, Mark, 
 how it was that chloroform was given to her ?" 
 
 " If we had not deemed it for the best, we should 
 not have given it," was Mark's answer. 
 
 " But — surely Dr. Davenal did not deem it would 
 be for the best V 
 
 Mark turned and looked at him ; a quick, sharp 
 glance. "What do you know about it?" he asked. 
 
 " I ? I know nothing about it : I want to know," 
 replied Oswald, thinking the remark strange. " I 
 wish you would give me the full particulars, Mark. 
 I cannot understand — I have a reason for not being 
 able to understand — why chloroform should have 
 been given to Lady Oswald " 
 
 " We use chloroform very much now,*' interrupted 
 Mark. 
 
 " Why it should have been given to Lady Oswald,' 
 went on Oswald, with pointed emphasis. 
 
 " It was given to her as it is given to others — to 
 deaden pain." 
 
 " Who performed the operation ?" 
 
 " The doctor."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 3ol 
 
 There was a pause. Wlieii Oswald Cray broke it 
 his voice was low, his manner hesitating. *'Mark, 
 will you pardon me if I ask you a peculiar question ? 
 — Do you believe from your very heart that when 
 Dr. Da venal administered that chloroform to Lady 
 Oswald, he did think it would be for the best ?" 
 
 " Hesitating as Oswald's manner had been, Mark's 
 was worse. He grew on a sudden flushed and em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 " Won't you answer me, Mark ?" 
 *' I — yes — of course we thought it would be for 
 the best." 
 
 «I asked, did Ac think it ?" 
 Mark plunged into an untruth. Somewhat afraid 
 of Oswald at the best of times, conscious that he was 
 of a far higher standard in moral and intellectual 
 excellence than himself, he desired to stand well with 
 him, to enjoy his good opinion ; and perhaps there 
 was not a single man in Hallingham to whom Mark 
 would not have preferred his unhappy mistake in all 
 its wilfulness to become known, than to his brother. 
 They were also plajdng at cross purposes : Oswald 
 was seeking to learn how far Dr. Davenal had been 
 to blame. Mark believed it was his own share of 
 blame that was sought to be arrived at. 
 
 *'Yes, he thought it. Dr. Davenal would not
 
 332 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 use chloroform, or anytliing else, unless he believed 
 it would be beneficial," rapidly went on Mark. " I 
 never knew a man more successful in his treatment 
 in a general way than he." But for all the apparent 
 readiness of the words, they bore a certain evasion to 
 Oswald's ears. 
 
 " Tell me the truth, IMark ; tell it me frankly," he 
 rejoined. " Is there not some — some secret — I don't 
 know what else to call it — connected with this busi- 
 ness ? Something wrong about it ?" 
 
 For a moment Mark Cray had to deliberate. He 
 was driven at bay by the straightforward questions oi 
 his brother. And his brother saw the hesitation. 
 
 " Oswald, it is of no use to press me upon this 
 matter. You will readily conceive how sore a one 
 it is to myself and to Dr. Davenal. Had it been some 
 poor rubbishing patient who had died through it, that 
 poor stoker at the infirmary for instance, it would not 
 have been of so much account : but " 
 
 "Be silent, Mark!" burst from Oswald with a 
 flash of anger. " I will not listen to such doctrine. 
 The lives of the poor are every whit as valuable as 
 are the lives of the rich. You did not learn that from 
 Dr. Davenal." 
 
 " "What I meant was, that there'd not be half the 
 public fuss," said INIark, looking little, and doing his
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 333 
 
 best to explain away the impression given by bis 
 words. " I'm sure there has been enough fuss in the 
 town since her death was known, but I have not heard 
 of one single person in it casting blame on us. Why 
 should you seek to cast it ? Errors in judgment are 
 committed now and then in medical practice, just as 
 they are in everything else, and there's no help for it ; 
 they happen to the very best of us. If we could see 
 the end of a thing at the beginning it would be dif- 
 ferent : but we can't. Could its effects on Lady 
 Oswald have been anticipated, we'd have seen chloro- 
 form in the sea before it should have been given her. 
 It was done for the best." 
 
 " You think then that Dr. Davenal believed the 
 giving it her would be for the best ?" persisted Os- 
 wald, after listening patiently to the excited answer. 
 
 Again came the perceptible hesitation in the 
 manner of Mark ; again the flush of embarrassment 
 rose to his cheek. Oswald noted it. 
 
 " I am quite sure that all the doctor ever did for 
 Lady Oswald, he did for the best," and Mark Cray 
 plucked up courage and spirit as he said it : " that 
 night, as well as other nights which had gone before 
 it. I cannot think what you are driving at, Oswald." 
 
 Oswald Cray determined to " drive " no more. 
 He believed it would be useless, so far as Mark was
 
 334 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 concerned. He could not quite make him out : but 
 he l3elieved it would be useless. That there was 
 something concealed, something not quite open, he 
 saw ; Mark's manner alone would have told him 
 that : and he came rapidly to the conclusion that 
 Mark had been cognisant also of his partner's opinion 
 of chloroform as connected with Lady Oswald, and 
 could not tell why he had tried it upon her, but did 
 suppose, in spite of the face of affairs, that he had 
 done it for the best. All Mark's embarrassment, his 
 evasion, his crusty unwillingness to speak frankly, 
 Oswald set down to an anxiety to screen Dr. Davenal 
 from the reproach of imprudence. One more remark 
 he did make. It arose to his mind as he was about 
 to depart, and he spoke it on the spur of the thought. 
 
 " I understand you fancy that Dr. Davenal 
 absented himself from Hallingham to avoid attend- 
 ing the coroner's inquest." 
 
 '* Where on earth did you hear that?" shouted 
 Mark, with a stare of surprise. 
 
 '* Your wife mentioned it to me just now." 
 
 Mark Cray waxed wroth. " What idiots women 
 are ! The very best of them ! I shan't be able to 
 think my own thoughts next. Caroline knows I did 
 not wish that repeated : it slipped from me without 
 reflection."
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 335 
 
 " It is quite safe with me, Mark. She looks 
 upon me I suppose as one of yourselves. But why 
 should Dr. Davenal have wished not to attend the 
 inquest?" 
 
 *'0h, for nothing, only he thought they'd be 
 putting all sorts of questions/' carelessly replied 
 Mark. " It was a disagreeable thing altogether, and 
 one of us was quite enough to attend. But, mind 
 you, Oswald, I don't really suppose he went for 
 that : I make no doubt he had business out." 
 
 " Well, good-night, Mark." 
 
 " Good-night. I wish you had come in." 
 
 Mark Cray stepped on to his house, and let him- 
 self in with his latch-key, thinking how much better 
 the world would go on if women had not been en- 
 dowed with tongues, and wondering excessively 
 what possessed Oswald to be taking up the death of 
 Lady Oswald and putting these mysterious questions 
 upon it.
 
 CHAPTEE XXL 
 
 THE INTERVIEW WITH THE DOCTOE. 
 
 Dr. Davenal was alone in his study, pacing the 
 carpet with heavy steps and a face that seemed to 
 have all the care of the world marked on it, when 
 Mr. Oswald Cray was shown in. Oswald could not 
 avoid being struck with that expression of care ; he 
 had never seen the like upon the countenance of Dr. 
 Davenal. 
 
 Turning his head, he looked at Oswald for the 
 space of a minute as if not recognising him. He was 
 too deeply buried in his own thoughts immediately 
 to awake from them to everyday life. 
 
 " Good-evening, Dr. DavenaL" 
 
 " He took Oswald's outstretched hand, and was 
 himself again. Oswald sat down and the doctor too. 
 But after a few words, he rose, apparently in restless- 
 ness, and began to pace the room as before. 
 
 " Are you in any grief, doctor ? " 
 
 " Well — yes I am," was the reply. " Or perhaps
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 337 
 
 I sliould rather say in vexation, for that is chiefl}^ it. 
 We have had a line from Edward by the day post, 
 and he expresses a doubt whether he shall be able to 
 get down to say farewell. These young soldiers grow 
 careless of home ties, Mr. Oswald Cray." 
 
 " Not soldiers in particular, do they, sir ? It is a 
 reproach that can be cast upon many others who live 
 in the world." 
 
 " And get enslaved by it. True." 
 
 "I did not mean altogether that, Dr. Davenal. 
 When does your son sail ?" 
 
 " On Sunday morning, he says. He does not 
 positively say he is not coming down, only gives a 
 hint that he fears he cannot. What did I do with 
 the letter ?" continued the doctor, looking round. ** I 
 brought it in with me after dinner. Oh, there it is," 
 he added, seeing it on a side table, and giving it to 
 Oswald. " You can read what he says. Sara won't 
 mind. It is written for us all as well as for her, 
 I expect. Edward was never a voluminous cor- 
 respondent : his letters are generally pro bono ^mh- 
 lico" 
 
 Oswald saw it was addressed to Miss Sara Davenal, 
 and began to read it. It was dated the previous
 
 338 oswald cray. 
 
 « My darling Sister, — 
 
 '*We are in all the bustle and hurry of the 
 start. Orders have come at last, and we embark 
 from Southampton on Sunday morning. I hope I 
 shall get down to you to say good-bye. I am not 
 unmindful of my promise to do so, and will do all I 
 can to keep it : poor Dick used to tell me that I knew 
 how to break promises better than I knew how to 
 make them, but it shall not be my fault if you have 
 to cast that on me as a last reproach. To absent 
 one's-self, even for an hour, is a difficult task now, but 
 I will manage it, if possible. We have been worked 
 off our heads and legs for the last few days." 
 
 " Love to all. I suppose Carry is fairly installed 
 at the abbey ; wish her all good luck for me. — Ever 
 yours, in much haste, E. F. Davenal," 
 
 " You see," said the doctor, halting and pointing 
 to the letter, " he emphasises the word * hope.' * I 
 hope I shall get down.' That very fact is sufficient 
 to tell me that he knows he shall not get down, and 
 these lines have been sent as a soil; of preparation 
 for the final disappointment. And he is going out 
 for years ! But I won't blame him : perhaps it is 
 an impossibility to him to get away. He should 
 have remained longer when he came down for the
 
 OSWALD CKAY. 339 
 
 wedding, have made it his farewell visit. I said so 
 then." 
 
 Dr. Davenal began his walk to and fro again, — 
 a very slow, thoughtful walk. Oswald folded the 
 letter and laid it on the table. 
 
 " I have ever loved my children — I was going to 
 say passionately, Mr. Oswald Cray. I believe few 
 parents can love as I have loved. I have made — I 
 have made sacrifices for them which the world little 
 recks of, and anything like ingratitude touches me to 
 the heart's core. But in the midst of it I am the 
 first to find excuses for them, and I say that Edward 
 may not be at all to blame in this." 
 
 "I think it very likely that he is quite unable to get 
 away, however much he may wish it," observed Oswald. 
 
 "I think so too. I say I don't blame him. 
 Only one feels these things." 
 
 There ensued a silence. A feeling of dislike 
 had come over Oswald (and he could not trace it to 
 any particular cause) to enter upon the subject of Lady 
 Oswald. But he was not one to give way to these 
 fanciful phases of feeling which appear to arise with- 
 out rhyme or reason, and he was about to speak when 
 the doctor forestalled him. 
 
 " Lady Oswald's death has brought you down, I 
 presume V
 
 340 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 '* Yes. I was in ignorance of it until this morn- 
 ing, when a formal invitation to attend the funeral 
 reached me from the undertaker. I had just read 
 the announcement of the death in the * Times.' How 
 shocked I was, I cannot well express to you." 
 
 " It has shocked as all." 
 
 " Of course its reaching me in that abrupt manner, 
 in the public column of deaths, did not tend to lessen 
 the shock. I rather wonder you did not drop me a 
 line yourself. Dr. Davenal." 
 
 '*I was away afterwards. Called out to a dis- 
 tance, I did not get back for a day or two. Did 
 Mark not write T' 
 
 " Nobody wrote. Neither Mark nor Parkins ; 
 nor anybody else. As to Mark, he is careless as the 
 wind; and Parkins excuses herself on the plea of 
 having been so bewildered. I can readily believe 
 her. Dr. Davenal, she died, as I am given to under- 
 stand, from the effects of chloroform !" 
 
 ** We thought, on the night of the accident, you 
 know, that she was not seriously injured," said Dr. 
 Davenal. "At least, Mark thought it: I had my 
 doubts : but I left him to see to her at her own 
 desire. Unfortunately I was called out early on 
 Sunday morning. I was wanted at Thorndyke : and 
 when I got back the injury had been ascertained, and
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 341 
 
 an operation found necessary. It was under that 
 operation she died." 
 
 "But the operation was performed successfully?" 
 
 « Quite so." 
 
 " And what she died of was the inhaling of the 
 chloroform ?" ^ 
 
 « It was." 
 
 *' But — I cannot understand why chloroform 
 should have been given to her?" deliberately pro- 
 ceeded Oswald. 
 
 " It ivas given to her," was all the reply he ob- 
 tained. 
 
 "But — pardon me for recalling it to you, Dr. 
 Davenal — do you remember the very decided opinion 
 you expressed to me, when we were going down to 
 the scene of accident, against giving chloroform to 
 Lady Oswald ? TVe were speaking of its opposite 
 effects upon different natures, and you cited Lady 
 Oswald as one to whom, in your opinion, it might 
 prove dangerous. You stated that, so far as you be- 
 lieved, it would be neither better nor worse to her 
 than poison." 
 
 Oswald waited for a reply, but the doctor made 
 none. He was pacing the small room with his mea- 
 sured tread, his hands in his pockets, his eyes bent on 
 the carpet.
 
 342 OSWALD CEAY^ 
 
 *' Have you any olDJection to explain to me this 
 apparent contradiction ? It is impossible to believe 
 that one, whose opinion of chloroform in relation to 
 her was so fatal, would in a few hours cause her to 
 inhale it." 
 
 Dr. Davenal stopped in his walk and confronted 
 Oswald. 
 
 " Have you seen Mark since you came down V* 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 *' And what does he say V 
 
 "Well, I don't fancy he understands it much 
 better than I do. He reiterates that it was given 
 her for the best. In his opinion it may have been. 
 But it surely could not have been in yours, Dr. 
 Davenal." 
 
 Dr. Davenal turned from Oswald to his pacing 
 again. A strong temptation was upon him to tell 
 Oswald the truth. that he had ! that he had ! 
 
 There were few people in the world whom he es- 
 teemed as he esteemed Oswald Cray. There was no 
 one else in the world to whom he had expressed this 
 opinion of the unfitness of Lady Oswald as a subject 
 for chloroform, and the wish to explain, to exonerate 
 himself, arose forcibly within him. The next moment 
 he asked himseK why Mark Cray himself had not 
 spoken. As he had not, it seemed to Dr. Davenal
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 343 
 
 that it would be a breacli of friendship, of jpartner- 
 ship, for him to speak. Oswald was connected, too, 
 with Lady Oswald, and might take up the matter 
 warmly. !N"o, he felt in his ever-considerate heart 
 that he could not betray Mark, could not set one 
 brother against the other. And he put the tempta- 
 tion from him. 
 
 Oswald watched him as he walked, wondering at 
 the silence. A silence which the doctor evidently 
 did not feel inclined to break. 
 
 "Do you remember expressing this opinion to 
 me, Dr. Davenal?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe I did so express it." 
 
 " And yet you acted in diametrical opposition to 
 it immediately afterwards, and caused Lady Oswald 
 to inhale chloroform ? Will you forgive me for again 
 asking how it could have been ?" 
 
 "The very best of us are led into error some- 
 times," replied Dr. Davenal. 
 
 "Why, that is one of the remarks Mark has 
 just made to me in connection with this case ! I 
 cannot recognise it as applying to it. You spoke 
 so firmly, so positively, that I should have be- 
 lieved there was no room for error to creep in. I 
 feel that there is something to be explained, Dr. 
 Davenal"
 
 344 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 Dr. Davenal wheeled round in his walk and con- 
 fronted Oswald. 
 
 "There are circumstances connected with this 
 case, Mr. Oswald Cray, which I cannot explain to 
 the world ; which I cannot explain even to you ; 
 although I would rather tell them to you than to any 
 one. Let it sufi&ce to know that / could not save 
 Lady Oswald. It was not in my power." 
 
 **But you could have saved — you could have 
 helped giving her the cliloroform V returned Oswald, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 A slight pause. " Will you ol)lige me by asking 
 no further questions on the subject — by allowing it 
 to drop, to me and to others ? Believe me, I have no 
 selfish motive in pressing this. No one living can 
 regret more than I the fatal result to Lady Oswald ; 
 perhaps nobody regrets it so keenly. Could I have 
 saved her, no care, no skill, no labour, should have 
 been spared. But I could not. I can only ask you 
 to be satisfied with this meagre assurance, ]\Ir. 
 Oswald Cray ; and to believe me when I state that 
 I have private reasons for declining to pursue the 
 topic." 
 
 " And — pardon me — one more question : To what 
 am I to attribute her death in my g\yji mind ? Or 
 rather, this giving of the chloroform?"
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 345 
 
 "You mnst look upon it as an error in judgment. 
 It was such." 
 
 It was impossible for Oswald Cray, as a gentleman, 
 to press further the matter. Dr. Davenal was an old 
 man compared with him ; one of high reputation, 
 skill, position. He could not understand it, but he 
 could only bow to the request — nay, to the demand 
 — and let the subject sink into silence. An awkward 
 pause ensued. The doctor had not resumed his pro- 
 menade, but stood under the gas-lamp, twirling a quill 
 pen in his fingers which he had taken up. 
 
 " How are the other sufferers from the accident 
 getting on ?" inquired Oswald, when the silence was 
 beginning to be heard. 
 
 " Oh; quite well. Poor Bigg the fireman is nearly the 
 only one of them left in the infirmary, and he will soon 
 be out of it. The rest came off mostly with a few cuts 
 and bruises. There's a summons for me, I suppose." 
 ^ . The doctor alluded to a knock at the hall door. 
 Neal came in. 
 
 " Mr. Wheatlcy, sir. He wishes to know if you 
 can spare him ten minutes." 
 
 " Yes," replied the doctor, and Oswald rose. 
 
 "Will you walk upstairs and see them?" 
 
 " Not to-night, thank you." 
 
 " I won't press you," said the doctor. " Sara is
 
 346 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 cut up about this news from Edward, terribly dis- 
 appointed ; and Aunt Bett is as cross as two sticks. 
 She is fond of Edward, with all her ungraciousness to 
 him, and she looks upon this hint of not coming down 
 as a slight to herself. In manner she was always un- 
 gracious to the boys, from some idea I believe that it 
 tended to keep them in order. But she loved them 
 at heart. Good-night." 
 
 Dr. Davenal clasped his hand with a warm pres- 
 sure, warmer than usual ; Oswald could not but feel 
 it, and he went out perfectly mystified. 
 
 Neal stepped on to open the front gate. Neal was 
 always remarkably courteous and deferent to Mr. 
 Oswald Cray. Oswald, who had only seen the best 
 side of Neal and never suspected there was a reverse 
 ^jne, looked upon him as a man to be respected, a 
 faithful old retainer of the Oswald family. Lady 
 Oswald had sung his praises times out of number in 
 Oswald's ear, and she once told Oswald to try for 
 Neal, should he ever require a servant about his per- 
 son, for he would find ^I^eal a man of fidelity, worth 
 his weight in gold. Oswald believed her. He be- 
 lieved Neal to be faithful and true ; one whom doubt 
 could not touch. 
 
 ** This death of your late mistress is a very sad 
 thing, Neal.''
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 347 
 
 " sir ! I can't express to you how I hav^e felt 
 it. I'm sure I can say that my lady was a true friend 
 to me, the only one I had left." 
 
 "No, no, Neal. Not the only one. You may 
 count a friend in me — if only in respect to the regard 
 you were, I know, held in by Lady Oswald." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, greatly ; " and honest ISTeal's 
 eyes swam in tears as he turned them to Mr. Oswald 
 Cray under the light of his master's professional gas- 
 lamp. " Sir/' he added, swaying forward the gate and 
 dropping his voice as he approached nearer to Oswald, 
 " how came that poison, that chloroform to be given 
 to her?" 
 
 " I cannot tell ; I cannot understand," replied 
 Oswald, speaking upon impulse, not upon reflection. 
 
 " Sir, if I might dare to say a word" — and NeaL 
 glanced round with caution on all sides as he spoke — 
 " I'd ask whether it was given in fairness ?" 
 
 " What do you mean, Neal ?" 
 
 " There's not a person in the world I'd venture to 
 whisper such a thing to, sir, except yourself ; but I 
 doubt whether it was given in fairness. I have a 
 reason for doubting it, sir; a particular reason. It 
 makes me sick, sir, to think that there was some 
 unfair play brought to work, and that it took her 
 life."
 
 348 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 * Unfair play on tlie part of whom ?" asked 
 Oswald. 
 
 " I am not sure tliat I dare say, sir, even to you. 
 And it might be looked upon as — as — fancy on my 
 part. One thing is certain, sir, that but for that 
 chloroform being given to her, she'd be alive now." 
 
 " Dr. Davenal and Mr. Cray gave the chloroform, 
 Neal," observed Mr. Oswald Cray, in a somewhat 
 distant tone — for it was not to Neal he would admit 
 any doubt, scarcely condescend to hear any, of the 
 judgment of the surgeons. " They know better about 
 such things than we do." 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Neal, as drily as he dared. 
 ""Mr. Cray, I am sure, did Ids best, but he has not 
 had the judgment and experience of my master. 
 Any way, it seems it was the chloroform that killed 
 her." 
 
 "As it has killed others before her — when ad- 
 ministered in all deliberate judgment by surgeons of 
 as high repute and practice as Dr. Davenal The 
 issues of life and death are not even in a doctor's 
 hands, ISTeal. Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night to you, sir." 
 
 Oswald Cray walked slowly towards his tempo- 
 rary home, the " Apple Tree," half bewildered with 
 the conjectural views opened out to him, and not
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 349 
 
 the least with that last hint of Neal's. He could 
 not get over that giving of the chloroform by Dr. 
 Davenal in the very teeth of his expressed opinion 
 against it. He had supposed, when he first heard of 
 the cause of death, that this contradiction would be 
 explained away : but, instead of that, it w^as more 
 unexplainable than before. There w^as Mark's con- 
 fused manner, his covert attempts to avoid inquiry ; 
 there was Dr. Davenal's positive denial to satisfy it ; 
 there was the man Xeal's curious hint. Osw^ald 
 Cray felt as one in a maze, tr}dng to get at some- 
 thing which eluded his grasp. 
 
 How the imagination runs riot, how^ utterly 
 unamenable it is to the rules and regulations of 
 sober control, we most of us know^ 
 
 Oswald found his mind balancing the question, 
 "Did Eichard Davenal give that chloroform in his 
 calm deliberate senses, believing that it might take 
 her life? If so, where was the motive ?" Men don't 
 do such things in these days without a motive ; the 
 greatest criminal must have that Oswald Cray could 
 see none. There w^as no motive, or shadow of motive, 
 for Dr. Davenal's wishing for the death of Lady 
 Oswald. Quite the contrary ; it was his interest — if 
 so worldly a plea may be brought into proximity with 
 these solemn thoughts — to keep her in life. Of all
 
 350 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Hs patients, slie perhaps was the most profitable, 
 paying him a good sum yearly. Then — with the 
 want of motive, those dark doubts born of his im- 
 agination fell to the ground, and he had the good 
 sense to see that they did. 
 
 They fell to the ground. And Oswald Cray, as he 
 awoke with a start and shook himself clear of them, 
 pinched his arms to see whether he was awake. 
 Surely only in his sleep could doubts, such as those, 
 have arisen of Dr. Davenal !
 
 CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 Saea Davenal in her sick restlessness was early in 
 the breakfast-room. The disappointment touching 
 her brother was weighing down her heart. Since the 
 arrival of the unsatisfactory note the previous evening, 
 she had felt a conviction similar to Dr. Davenal' s, that 
 Edward would not come. Neither had spoken of it 
 to the other ; great griefs cannot be talked of ; and to 
 Sara this was a grief inexpressible. It seemed that 
 she would give half her remaining years of life for 
 only one five minutes' interview with him. 
 
 If he came at all he would come to-day, Friday ; 
 and she got up, hoping against hope ; saying to her- 
 seK aloud, in contradiction to the fear lying upon 
 her heart, and which she would not glance at, '^ He 
 wiU be sure to come ; he will never embark on that 
 long voyage without first coming. He will remember 
 Kichard's fate." For the time being, the eager 
 anxiety to see him almost seemed to deaden that
 
 352 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 other trouble which lay within her — the trouble 
 that had taken possession of her on the Sunday 
 night, never again to quit its tenement, 
 
 '* Is the post in?" asked Dr. Davenal, as he 
 entered the breakfast-room. 
 
 " JSTo, it is not made," sharply replied Miss Dave- 
 nal from her presiding place at the table. "Neal 
 has but this minute brought in the urn. I am 
 making it quickly as I can." 
 
 " I asked whether the post was in, Bettina. Be- 
 cause, if Edward is not coming, I should think there'd 
 be a letter from him." 
 
 Sara looked up eagerly. *' Don't you hope he will 
 come, papa ? Don't you think he will,?" 
 
 " "Well, Sara, after his letter of last night, my 
 hopes upon the point are not very strong. " 
 
 " papa ! I want to see him ! I must see him 
 before he sails." 
 
 *' Hush, child !" She had spoken in a distressed 
 tone, and her small white hands were trembling. 
 " Agitating yourself will not bring him." 
 
 By and by the letters came in : two. ISTeal 
 handed one to his master, the other to Sara. Both 
 bore the same handwriting — Captain Davenal's, 
 Sara, in her bitter disappointment, let hers lie by 
 her plate imtouched, but the doctor opened his.
 
 OSWALD CEAY. 353 
 
 Miss Bettina looked up. " Is he coming, Eichard ? " 
 
 "■ Ko. He says he can't come. That it is an im- 
 possibility. 
 
 "What else does he say?" 
 
 Dr. Davenal folded his letter and put it in his 
 pocket, to read at his leisure. " Ask Sara what he 
 says," was his answer. " All the gossip is in hers." 
 
 " And this is what he calls affection ! " exclaimed 
 Miss Bettina. " To leave his native land, his home, 
 without a farewell ! That's gratitude ! Eichard 
 Davenal, were I you, he should carry out my dis- 
 pleasure with him." 
 
 " I don't know," said the doctor, his voice sadly 
 subdued. " Send out displeasure with one whom 
 we may never see again ! ITo, Bettina. -And it may 
 be as he says — that he is unable to come." 
 
 He was looking straight before him as he spoke 
 it, in a far-off, dreamy gaze. His thoughts had 
 flown to one who had gone out under a sort of dis- 
 pleasure, gone out but for a short time — and had never 
 come home again. 
 
 The hour for the funeral approached, and the 
 doctor in his black attire stepped into his close 
 carriage to be conveyed to the residence of Lady 
 Oswald. He found all the mourners assembled, for 
 he was late, with the exception of Mark Cray. Sir 
 I Q 2
 
 354 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 Philip Oswald and his eldest son ; Oswald Cray ; 
 the Eeverend Mr. Stephenson and his brother Mr. 
 Joseph Stephenson. All were there, now the doctor 
 had come, except Mark. The funeral was to be at 
 the church at eleven. 
 
 The time went on. The hearse and mourning 
 coaches stood before the door, the horses restless. 
 It was close upon eleven. 
 
 "For whom do we wait?" inquired Sir Philip 
 Oswald. 
 
 " For Mr. Cray, Sir Philip," answered the under- 
 taker, who was gliding about, handing gloves and 
 fixing hatbands. 
 
 "Mr. Cray?" repeated Sir Philip, as though he 
 did not understand who Mr. Cray was. 
 
 " Lady Oswald's late medical attendant, Sir Philip, 
 in conjunction with Dr. Davenal. 
 
 " Oh — ah — yes," said Sir Philip. He was very 
 friendly with Dr. Davenal, exceedingly so ; and con- 
 descended not to ignore Mr. Cray as the doctor's 
 partner. It was the first time that Oswald had ever 
 been in a room with Sir Philip. Sir Philip had 
 bowed to him coldly enough upon his entrance, but 
 the son, Henry Oswald, went up to him and held out 
 his hand in a cordial manner. Oswald, haughtily 
 self-possessed, stood before Sir Philip with his im-
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 355 
 
 passive face, looking more of a gentleman than the 
 baronet did. 
 
 The clock struck eleven. "I suppose Mr. Cray 
 is coming?" remarked Sir Philip. 
 
 He looked at Dr. Davenal. The doctor supposed 
 he was coming as a matter of course : he believed he 
 was coming. He had not seen Mr. Cray that morning. 
 
 It was suggested by the undertaker that they 
 should proceed. Mr. Cray, he observed, would pos- 
 sibly join them at the church ; he might have been 
 kept back unexpectedly. 
 
 So the funeral started. All that remained of poor 
 Lady Oswald was carried out of her house, never 
 more to return to it. Not a week ago yet, on that 
 past Saturday morning, she had gone forth in health 
 and strength, and now — there I What a lesson it 
 told of the uncertainty of life ! 
 
 The funeral made its way through lines of curious 
 gazers to the church. Mark Cray was not there, and 
 the service was performed without him. At its con- 
 'clusion the gentlemen returned to the house. 
 
 A law}^er from a neighbouring town, Lady Oswald's 
 legal adviser, was there with the w^ill, and they were 
 invited to enter and hear the will read. 
 
 " It cannot concern me," remarked Sir Philip. 
 Nevertheless he went in.
 
 356 OSWALD CEAY. 
 
 *' And I am sure it cannot concern me," added 
 Oswald. 
 
 " The clerg}Tnan, Mr. Stephenson, looked up with 
 a crimson hectic on his cheek. It was next to im- 
 possible to mistake his eager glance — betraying the 
 hope mthin him, sure and steadfast, that it did con- 
 cern him. In point of fact he and that gentleman by 
 his side, his brother, had the chief right to any money 
 she might have left. It may be said the sole right. 
 How they needed it, their threadbare clothes and 
 sunken cheeks betrayed. Gentlemen born, they had 
 to keep up an appearance before the world ; at least, 
 they strove to keep it. But they were weary with 
 the struggle. The brother was of no particular pro- 
 fession. He had been reared for the church and 
 could never get to college, and he contrived to make 
 a living — that is, he contrived not to starve — by 
 writing articles for any paper or periodical that could 
 be persuaded into taking them. Each was of good 
 repute in the world, bearing up manfully and doing 
 the best he could do with his lot, sanguinely hoping, 
 humbly trusting that time would better it. They, 
 each, had a large family, and indulged the vain and 
 wild hope of bringing up their sons as gentlemen, as 
 they themselves had been brought up. Not as gentle- 
 men in the matter of abstaining from labour ; that
 
 OSAVALD CRAY. 357 
 
 would have been foolish ; but they hoped to bring 
 them up educated men, capable of doing their duty 
 in any walk of life they might be called to. How 
 they had looked forward to the prospect of some time 
 possessing this money of Lady Oswald's, their hearts 
 alone knew. If ever the excuse for cherishing such 
 a wish could be pleaded, it surely might be by them. 
 
 " I suppose these people, the Stephensons, will 
 chiefly inherit what she has left," whispered the 
 baronet's son confidentially to Oswald Cray. " Per- 
 haps you know? You have seen a good deal of Lady 
 Oswald, I believe." 
 
 " I don't at all know how her affairs are left," was 
 the reply of Oswald Cray. 
 
 " I should think they will inherit," continued Mr. 
 Oswald. " Shouldn't you ? " 
 
 " I should think — yes — I — should think they will. 
 Being her only relatives, they have undoubtedly the 
 greatest right to do so." 
 
 Why did Oswald Cray hesitate in his answer ? — 
 he so generally decisive of speech. Because in the 
 very moment that the acquiescence was leaving his 
 lips there flashed over his mind the words spoken to 
 him by Lady Oswald the previous Saturday. He had 
 not understood those words at the time, did not un- 
 derstand them now : but if he could interpret them at
 
 358 OSWALD CKAY. 
 
 all, they certainly did not point to lier nephews, the 
 brothers Stephenson. He remembered them well : at 
 least, their substance. " When my will comes to be 
 read, you may feel surprised at its contents. You 
 may deem that you had more legal claim upon me 
 than he who will inherit : I do not think so. He to 
 whom my money is left has most claim in my judg- 
 ment : I am happy to know that he will be rewarded, 
 and he knows it." 
 
 Not a week ago ! not a week ago that she had said 
 it. How little did Oswald foresee that he should so 
 soon be called upon to hear that will read ! 
 
 But still the words did not seem to point to either 
 of her nephews, with whom she had not lived on any 
 terms of friendship, and Oswald began to feel a little 
 curious as to the inheritor. 
 
 They were waiting for the la^^'er, who had not 
 yet come into the room. He might be getting the 
 will. His name was Wedderburn, a stout man with 
 a pimpled face. Sir Philip Oswald had a pimpled 
 face too ; but he was not stout : he was as thin and 
 as tall as a lath. 
 
 Dr. Davenal took out his watch. He found it 
 later than he thought, and turned to Sir Philip. 
 
 " I cannot remain longer," he said. " T have a 
 consultation at half-past twelve, and must not miss
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 359 
 
 it. I am not wanted here : there's nothing for me to 
 stay for : so I'll wish you good-morning." 
 
 *' For that matter, I don't see that any of us are 
 wanted," responded Sir Philip. " I'm sure I am not. 
 Good-morning, doctor." 
 
 Nodding his salutation to the room generally, the 
 doctor went out. Soon afterwards Mr. Wedderburn 
 made his appearance, the will in his hand, which he 
 prepared to read. Clearing his voice, he threw his 
 eyes round the room, as if to see that his audience 
 were ready. The absence of one appeared then to 
 strike him, and he pushed his spectacles to the top of 
 his brow and gazed again. 
 
 " Where's Dr. Davenal ?" 
 
 " He is gone," replied Sir Philip Oswald. 
 
 "Gone!" repeated the lawyer, in consternation. 
 " Why — he — Dr. Davenal should have stopped, of 
 all people." 
 
 "He said he had a consultation. What does it 
 signify?" 
 
 "Well, Sir Philip, he — at any rate, I suppose 
 there's no help for it now. It must be read without 
 him." 
 
 Not one present but looked at the lawyer with 
 surprise, not one but thought him a strangely 
 punctilious man to suppose Dr. Davenal's presence,
 
 360 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 as Lady Oswald's medical man and attendant at her 
 funeral, was in any degree essential to the reading 
 of Lady Oswald's will. They soon learned the cause. 
 
 First of all, the will bequeathed a few legacies. 
 Very small ones. Twenty pounds to each of her 
 servants ; forty pounds and all her clothes to Par- 
 kins ; fifty pounds each to her nephews John and 
 Joseph Stephenson, with the furniture of her house 
 to be divided between them " amicably ;" a beau- 
 tiful diamond ring and a little plate to Oswald 
 Oswald Cray ; the rest of the plate, by far the most 
 valuable portion, to Sir Pliilip Oswald of Thorn- 
 dyke ; and another diamond ring to Dr. Eichard 
 Davenal. So far, so good : but now came the dis- 
 posal of the bulk of her money. It was bequeathed, 
 the whole of it, to Dr. Davenal, " my faithful friend 
 and medical attendant for so many years." 
 
 The will was remarkably short, taking but a few 
 minutes in the reading ; and at its conclusion Mr. 
 Wedderbum laid it open on the table that anybody 
 might look at it who chose. 
 
 It would be difficult to say which of the counte- 
 nances around him exhibited the greatest surprise. 
 The lawyer's voice died away in a deep silence. It 
 was broken by the clergyman, the Eeverend John 
 Stephenson.
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 361 
 
 " It is not just ! It is not just ! " 
 
 The wailing tone, not of passion or anger but of 
 meek despair, struck upon them all, and told how 
 bitter was the disappointment. Every heart m the 
 room echoed the cry, the lawyer's probably excepted. 
 Law}^ers, as a whole, don't think much of justice. 
 This one took out his snuff-box and inhaled a pinch 
 with equanimity. 
 
 "I am ready to answer questions, should any 
 gentleman wish to put them. It was Lady Oswald's 
 desire that I should. "When this mil was made, she 
 said to me, ' Some of them will be for making a fuss, 
 Wedderburn ; you can explain my motives if they 
 care to hear them.' Those motives lay in this ; her 
 ladyship knew her health and comfort to have been 
 so materially benefited of late years by the skill and 
 kindness of Dr. Davenal, that she considered it her 
 duty in gratitude to reward him." 
 
 " Nevertheless it is not just," murmured the poor 
 clergyman again. " Dr. Davenal does not want the 
 money as we want it." 
 
 Oswald Cray awoke as from a dream. He took 
 a step forward and addressed the lawyer. "Did 
 Dr. Davenal know that the money was left to 
 him?" 
 
 "I am unable to say, sir. Lady Oswald may 
 
 I B
 
 362 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 have told liim, or she may not. He did not know it 
 from me." 
 
 Oswald Cray said no more. He leaned against 
 the window, half hidden by the curtain, and plunged 
 into thought. 
 
 " Well, I must say I am surprised," remarked Sir 
 Philip. " Not but that Lady Oswald had a perfect 
 right to do as she pleased with her money, and she 
 might have signalled out a less worthy man as inheri- 
 tor. How much is the amount, Mr. Wedderburn ? 
 Do you know?" 
 
 " Somewhere between six and seven thousand 
 pounds, I believe, Sir Philip. It would have been 
 considerably more, but that her ladyship, a few years 
 ago, was persuaded by an evil counsellor to sell out a 
 large sum from the funds and invest elsewhere, for 
 the sake of better interest." 
 
 "And she lost it?" 
 
 " Every shilling," replied the lawyer, with satis- 
 faction: for it was done without his concurrence. 
 " She would have had double the money to leave be- 
 hind her but for that." 
 
 " Ah !" Sir Philip spoke the monosyllable shortly, 
 and dropped the point. Not so very long ago, he had 
 been seduced to invest money in some grand and 
 very plausible scheme — one of those to be heard of
 
 OSWALD CRA.Y. 363 
 
 daily, promising a fortune in twelve months at the 
 most — and he had burnt his fingers. The topic, con- 
 sequently, was not palatable to his ears. 
 
 " Ask him how long tliis will has been made, 
 John," whispered the literary man to his brother. 
 Of a retiring, timid nature himself, he rarely spoke 
 but when he was obliged, and he shrank from putting 
 the question. The clergyman obeyed, and the lawyer 
 pointed to the date of the will. 
 
 " Only in April last. Lady Oswald was fond of 
 making wills. Some people are so. I have made 
 her, I should think, half-a-dozen, if I have made one." 
 
 " And' the bulk of the money was always left to 
 Dr. Da venal ?" 
 
 " dear no. It never was left to him until this 
 last was made." 
 
 " Was I — were we — was it ever left to us ?" asked 
 the poor clergyman, tremblingly. 
 
 " Yes it was," replied ]\Ir. Wedderburn. " I don't 
 see why I should not avow it. It can't make any 
 difference, one way or the other. In the first will 
 she ever made after Sir John's death it was left to 
 you. And in the last mil preceding this, it was 
 again left to yoiu Once it was left" — the lawyer 
 looked towards the window — " to ]\Ir. Oswald Cray." 
 
 Oswald gave his shoulders a haughty shrug. " I
 
 364 OSWALD CRAY. 
 
 sliould never have accepted the legacy/' he said in 
 a distinct, deliberate tone. "I had no claim what- 
 ever to Lady Oswald's money, and shonld not have 
 taken it." 
 
 Henry Oswald laughed ; a pleasant, cordial laugh 
 as he turned to Oswald. " You don't know, Mr. 
 Oswald Cray. We are all so ready to be chivalrous 
 in theory : but when it comes to practice — the best 
 of us are apt to fall off." 
 
 " True," quietly remarked Oswald : but he did 
 not pursue the theme. 
 
 There was nothing more to be said or done then. 
 Of what profit to remain talking of the wills that 
 had been, w^hile the present one was before them and 
 must be put in force? Sir Philip made the first 
 move ; he went out, taking a formal leave ; Henry 
 Oswald, with a more cordial one. Oswald Cray was 
 the next to leave. He shook hands with the brothers, 
 and spoke a few kind \Yords of sympathy for their 
 disappointment. 
 
 " It is the disappointment of a life," replied the 
 clergyman in a low tone. "Our struggle has been 
 continued long ; and we had — there's no denying it 
 — looked forward to this. It is a hard trial when 
 relatives find themselves passed over for strangers." 
 
 " It is, it is," said Oswald Cray. " I could wish
 
 OSWALD CRAY. 365 
 
 Lady Oswald had beeu more mindful of legitimate 
 claims." 
 
 As he was going out, Parkins waylaid him in her 
 new mourning. ''There will be a dinner ready at 
 five o'clock, sir. Would you be pleased to stay for it ?" 
 
 " Xot to-day," replied Oswald. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by R. & R, Clark, Edinlnivi'h
 
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