L I b R.AFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLR5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 VA2Q.23\.
 
 7.Y SIGHT OF LAND.
 
 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 A KOYEL. 
 
 LADY DUFFUS HAEDY, 
 
 AUTHOE OF " BEUYL FOKTESCUE," &C. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WARD AND DOWNEY, 
 
 12, YORK STEEET, COYENT GARDEN 
 
 1885. 
 
 [All rights reserved.l
 
 8S3 
 H ss<S2>-o 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEK I. PAGE 
 
 THE NEW TENANTS ... ... ... ... ... 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 f^ THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE 
 
 24 
 
 ^ CHAPTER III. 
 
 ^ " SPENCER-ONIA " ... ... ... ... ... 4G 
 
 J^ CHAPTER IV. 
 
 J^ MAKING ACQUAINTANCE ... ... ... ... C8 
 
 ^ CHAPTER V. 
 
 . A FISHING EXCURSION ... ... ... ... 107
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEK VI. PAGE 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON ... ... ... 1S2 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TWO ARE COMPANY ... ... ... ... 156 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 SHE SATS "no!" 182 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MIRL\M IN TROUBLE ... ... ... ... ... 209 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AFTER A STORM ... ... ... 240
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 
 
 WHO are the people at the Manor House ? 
 Where have they come from ? and 
 why have they come to Cornwall ? These 
 questions greatly agitated the good folk of 
 Penally ; the wondering meandered along 
 the coast, and swept in tiny waves of 
 curiosity into the rugged huts of the fisher- 
 men, and over the hills to the solitary dwell- 
 ings, few and far between, that studded the 
 wildest part of that most lovely, lonely, and 
 picturesque part of Cornwall. The won- 
 dering was confined to no particular class 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 2 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 or sex ; everybody wondered — rich and poor, 
 liigh and low — the clergyman, the doctor, 
 the lawyer, the undertaker ; even the sexton 
 and gravedigger leaned upon his spade and 
 wondered if they would find him any work 
 to do. Yet there was really no special 
 cause for wonderment ; there was nothing 
 remarkable in the mere fact of tenants 
 being found to occupy a fine old house in 
 the most romantic part of the country. 
 
 The Manor House had been vacant many 
 years ; it was an old-fashioned, rambling 
 sort of place, and had been in possession of 
 the same family for centuries. Generation 
 after generation had been born and lived 
 and died there — then changes came. The 
 old order of things gave place to the new, 
 and as years rolled on the rising generation 
 could not rest content with the lives of their 
 forefathers ; they grew tired of its solitudes, 
 they did not care to Uve amoDg the bones
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 3 
 
 and memories of their ancestors, and one 
 after another they drifted away, leaving the 
 old house in the hands of the house-agent, 
 and for some two or three years it had been 
 the home of the bats and owls of the district. 
 It is true that visitors to Penzance, or 
 tourists in the far away neighbourhood, would 
 stop on their way to the Land's End and 
 picnic in the surrounding wilderness ; they 
 would stroll through the weedy garden, 
 pummel the doors, and send the echoes 
 rumbling through the deserted house, climb 
 up and try to peep through the shuttered 
 windows ; but before the day closed it was 
 left to its own solitude. Occasionally people 
 came to inspect the premises, but it seemed 
 as though nobody would ever care to live 
 there — it was too isolated, they said, too 
 utterly apart from the rest of the world ; 
 though, indeed, it was only about two miles 
 from the village, but those miles were
 
 4 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 through such rough, rugged roads, as to 
 seem double the distance. 
 
 One bright morning news came to the 
 village, and filtered through the neighbour- 
 hood, that the house was undergoing a sort 
 of renovating process. Mr. Banks and a 
 whole army of workmen were busily engaged 
 there — their vans were seen crawling slowly 
 through the highways and by-ways towards 
 the house. Mr. Banks was besieged with 
 questions, and curiosity was rife everywhere. 
 No avaiit-courrier had brought accounts of 
 the new-comers — they might have dropped 
 down from heaven, or risen up out of the 
 sea, for aught anybody knew about them. 
 Mr. Banks could tell nothing — he knew 
 nothing. He had received his instructions 
 from the banking firm in London under 
 whose orders he had always acted; he did 
 not even know the name of the new tenants. 
 
 *^ But we shall soon find out all about
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 6 
 
 'em," he added; "they're coming down to 
 take possession next Thursday.*' 
 
 The nearest railway station — a mere shed 
 of a place — was about five miles distant ; 
 the trains were few and far between, and 
 even then they often arrived without dis- 
 gorging or receiving a single passenger. 
 The solitary porter as a rule had nothing 
 to do, and as for the individual called 
 " station-master," his place was almost a 
 sinecure. They might, and no doubt .they 
 did, sleep half their lives away in that 
 drowsy little station ; but on this special 
 Thursday morning they were wide awake 
 and on the alert. They knew that some- 
 thing was going to happen, for telegraphic 
 orders had been received that a fly should 
 be in waiting for the midday train. Accord- 
 ingly, the ramshackle vehicle was there an 
 hour before its time, the lean grey horse 
 solemnly swishing its tail, carrying on per-
 
 6 7.V SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 petual warfare with the hungry flies who 
 tried to make a meal off its mangy coat, 
 while the driver lounged across and joined 
 the expectant watchers on the platform, 
 regaling them with such scraps of news as 
 drifted through the stable yard. Presently 
 the little train came curling round a gentle 
 curve in the line, pufling and snorting softly 
 as it rolled up to the platform. There 
 was an unusually long stop ; engine-driver, 
 stoker, and all looked round in some sur- 
 prise to see what a large party was emptying 
 itself upon the platform. They surged out 
 of the compartments, laden with ever}- 
 conceivable kind of small baggage. The 
 servants descended first ; there were 
 eight in all, counting male and female 
 domestics ; but to the trio standing by, it 
 seemed as though a small army had taken 
 possession of the platform. The guard 
 released two large dogs fi'om their imprison-
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 7 
 
 ment in the brake-van, and with their red 
 tongues lolhng out they ran barking and 
 leaping along the platform. Hans, the 
 groom, just managed to get them into a 
 leash, but they strained and struggled to 
 get free as they caught sight of their young 
 mistress descending from a coupe in front of 
 the train. She laid a hand softly on each 
 great honest head. 
 
 ^* Quiet, Jerry ! Bouncer, good dog ! " 
 Her touch and the sound of her voice 
 reduced them at once to quiet and obe- 
 dience ; their noisy excitement subsided 
 into a quiet wagging of tails, and with their 
 faithful eyes fixed upon her face they 
 watched and waited. The lady was 
 followed by a tall, gaunt old man, a large 
 bony figure, with a slight stoop in the 
 shoulders and a mass of snow-white hair ; 
 he was clean shaven, and a pair of brilliant 
 dark eyes gleamed from beneath the thick
 
 8 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 bushy brows. He glanced round with a 
 keen, searching look, which seemed to take 
 in everything at a single glance. He gave 
 his arm to the young lady, and preceded by 
 Chaplin, the station-master, they walked 
 down the platform. Meanwhile the driver 
 rushed to his vehicle, and began pummelling 
 the cushions and bustling about the har- 
 ness, now at the horse's head, then at the 
 horse's tail, whisthng, cracking his whip, 
 and rushing round as though he were in 
 a tremendous hurry, had all the world's 
 work to do, and no time to do it in. 
 
 The servants were busy getting together 
 the luggage ; the solitary porter rushed 
 wildly hither and thither, bewildered by 
 the unusual array of boxes, hampers, etc. 
 He felt as though he had been sw^ooped 
 upon by a regiment of unknown tongues. 
 The new arrivals talked to one another in 
 some foreign language, and when they
 
 THE NEW TENANTS, 9 
 
 spoke to him it was in such broken, queeiiy 
 accentuated Enghsh he could not under- 
 stand a word they said. However, he 
 shouldered such trunks as he could lay 
 hands on, and packed the truck, piling one 
 thing on the top of the other, sublimely 
 indifferent to the clatter of voices round 
 him, each one shrieking out directions at 
 the same moment. Luckily he did not 
 understand a word of them, and pitched 
 the last box into the truck with a spiteful 
 jerk, and a growl like muttered thunder 
 came from between his lips. 
 
 ** What's them furrineering folk comin' 
 here for, I wonder ? Don't think much 
 of 'em. Look here ! that grinning monkey 
 in the gray jacket give me this, after 
 breaking my back hauling their beastly 
 luggage about ; if I'd known, I'd ha' busted 
 some of it ! " He opened his hand and 
 showed a battered sixpence.
 
 10 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 '' Ah ! " exclaimed Mr. Chaplin, '' that's 
 trusting your liberality to servants. Never 
 mind, Ben, you shall go halves with me ; 
 the old gentleman slipped half a sovereign 
 into my hand for just opening my mouth 
 and wishing him good morning. And 
 they are not all foreigners, for the young 
 lady, and a pretty creature she is too, 
 thanked me in regular good English when I 
 put her into the fly." 
 
 ** That's always the way," grumbled Ben, 
 though slightly mollified by the prospect of 
 going halves. "Them as does the most 
 work gets the least pay ; it is always the 
 way, from the Prince of Wales down'ards ; 
 didn't I help to win the battle of 'Tel 
 Kebber,' and what have I got for it? A 
 ruined liver and a smashed-up constitootion 
 — that's what I've got ! " 
 
 I suppose that ''Ben" had a surname, but 
 nobody knew it, perhaps he did not know
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 11 
 
 it himself ; he was recognized by the simple 
 name of *' Ben," and any extension of that 
 brief cognomen would have embarrassed 
 him, indeed he would have resented it as 
 an insult. A stranger, once wishing to 
 propitiate him in behalf of a young bull- 
 pup, addressed him respectfully as *^ Mr. 
 . I didn't quite catch your name." 
 
 " No, nor you won't never catch it," he 
 snarled in answer. ^'I'm ^Ben,' that's 
 what I am. It's as good a name as I know 
 on, and I don't want a better ; so as I look 
 after that ill-looking brute o' your'n, you 
 needn't bother about names." 
 
 He was evidently tetchy on the subject ; 
 perhaps his name didn't fit him, and he had 
 cast it off like a suit of old clothes, or 
 perhaps it had got stained — not with blood 
 at the battle of '' Tel Kebber " that he was 
 always talking about — but with something 
 else, and he had trampled it in the mire
 
 12 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 and left it behind him. He was not a 
 native of Cornwall ; soon after the cam- 
 paign that '^ ruined his liver " had ended, 
 he obtained the situation as porter at that 
 lonely little station, and there he had 
 remained ever since. Nobody knew any- 
 thing of his antecedents, and he never 
 talked of himself except in reference to 
 " Tel Kebber," and then only in brief 
 allusions. 
 
 He was a man who minded his own 
 business — and other peoples too ; he took 
 an eager interest in Penally, and everybody 
 for miles round it. Like most people who 
 are always looking for ''news " and prying 
 into other people's affairs, he was remark- 
 ably reticent about his own, and though he 
 never talked of himself, he talked freely of 
 every one else, and knew all the *' ins and 
 outs " of life for miles round. He w^as 
 deeply interested in the new occupants of
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 13 
 
 the old mansion, but hitherto his inquisi- 
 torial powers had been used in vain. He 
 turned the battered sixpence over and over 
 in his hand, and it set him thinking as if it 
 had been a magic mirror, or talisman, which 
 acted as a kind of touchstone and revealed 
 the nature of those it came from ; the 
 less he knew the more he evolved from his 
 imagination. When the luggage vans had 
 arrived by train, he had crept about and 
 around examining the furniture, peering 
 into everything he could lay hands upon, 
 but white marbles and carved oak were 
 alike dumb — they told him nothing; he 
 could gather no information therefrom ; 
 there was not even a label to tell whence 
 they had come. In vain he twisted and 
 wriggled about, spying into everything; 
 curiosity was baffled at all points. Then he 
 grew furious and resentful, and lashed 
 himself into a belief that he was the
 
 14 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 injured party, and that he and others 
 were kept in the dark from malevolent 
 motives. 
 
 *'What did they mean by hiding them- 
 selves in mystery and leaving the natural 
 curiosity of honest folk unsatisfied ? " 
 
 How anxiously he had looked forward to 
 their coming to-day ! Now they had come 
 and gone, and left nothing to tell even of 
 their existence — but — a battered sixpence ! 
 Well, Ben lounged off to a shady corner to 
 drone and dream away the hours till the 
 next train was due, while the unconscious 
 objects of his curiosity wound their way 
 slowly towards their home that was to be. 
 The servants in the waggonette drove on 
 first, and drove at a rapid pace, as though 
 they were anxious to get the first glimpse 
 of the new domicile. Their keen eyes 
 seemed to take in every feature of the land 
 they were passing through, laughing and
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 16 
 
 chatting merrily, though in a language 
 unknown to the driver, who inwardly 
 cursed their " jabbering" as he called it, 
 for he could not understand a word they 
 said, and a driver naturally looks for a little 
 pleasant gossip by the way, and considers 
 himself rather ill-used if he doesn't get it. 
 However, he took it out of the beasts he 
 was driving, and lashed them on at a lively 
 pace, till he deposited his merry freight at 
 their destination. 
 
 Meanwhile the carriage containing the 
 old gentleman and the young lady wound 
 its way slowly through the grand old Cornish 
 country ; they looked out with evident plea- 
 sure and enjoyment on the beautiful scenery 
 they were passing through. Now and again 
 they got a magnificent view of the sea, and 
 w^herever they looked, whether landward or 
 seaward, they found some beautiful, attrac- 
 tive feature; so varied too, it seemed as
 
 10 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 though nature was indulging in a series of 
 transformation scenes ; now it was grand in 
 the extreme, huge rocky boulders, covered 
 with moss or lichen, scattered around or 
 grouped at the foot of weird old trees that 
 had scarce green enough to cover their poor 
 palsied branches — then in another few mo- 
 ments they were driving through a fairy dell, 
 the soft, undulating land carpeted with 
 tender green, and decorated with brilliant 
 wild flowers and graceful ferns feathering 
 the roadside ; only once or twice they passed 
 a rude farmhouse, and the folk flashed out 
 to see the unusual sight of life passing 
 through their neighbourhood. 
 
 The girl sat with her hand in that of the 
 old man, who regarded her witli loving, 
 anxious eyes. Jerry and Bouncer trotted 
 demurely by the carriage side, now and then 
 leaping up to look in at the window to 
 assure themselves that all was right within.
 
 THE NJ^W TENANTS. 17 
 
 The occupants talked little, contenting 
 themselves with occasionally calling atten- 
 tion to some point of the scenery. They 
 had just passed through a very wild, deso- 
 late way, when the coachman, pointing 
 ahead, said — 
 
 " Yon's the Manor House, sir." 
 Looking forward, they beheld the old 
 grey mansion in full view. Standing there 
 alone, as it seemed, in a very wilderness, it 
 looked a dreary, gruesome place enough ; it 
 was a low, square building, with no attempt 
 at architectural ornament of any kind ; with 
 no quaint gables or picturesque columns or 
 cupolas, or odd nooks and corners to attract 
 or distract the eye. It stood there solitary, 
 blank, and square, facing seawards, its 
 strong stony sides bared to all the winds 
 that blew. It was surrounded by a ragged 
 unkempt garden, bounded by a low stone 
 wall, separating the private gromrds from 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 18 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 the wilds beyond. Although it had no 
 fanciful features, it was a solemn, impressive 
 place ; its very simplicity and its age and 
 isolation gave it a weird kind of charm. 
 
 *' I did not think the place was quite such 
 a solitude," said the old man, taking in the 
 entire view at one sweeping glance. '^ I'm 
 afraid you'll he very lonely here, Clarice." 
 
 ** Not at all," answered Clarice, '^ we two 
 shall be together, dad dear, always together 
 — and at least I am safe here with you. 
 You don't think he will find us and try to 
 take me away? " 
 
 *^ I would rather kill you with my own 
 hands than let him have you," said the old 
 man, grimly; ^' I would, my child, I would." 
 
 The girl smiled and seemed content. 
 
 The carriage drove through the Manor 
 House gates and stopped at the massive 
 oak door, which was flung wide open, and 
 the hall within was filled with the servants
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 10 
 
 who had assembled there to welcome their 
 young mistress to her new home. She was 
 a great favourite with them all, from the 
 highest to the lowest, for she had always a 
 kind word and a pleasant smile for every- 
 body. She paused before entering the 
 house, and turned round upon the threshold 
 to admire the magnificent view that spread 
 before and around her. It was a magnificent 
 blending together of sea and land, the coast 
 line being cleaVly defined by the rugged, un- 
 dulating sweep of the land. There were 
 wide stretches of open country, wild and 
 uncultivated; rough, rocky land, with 
 tangles of grass and tall strong trees 
 growing out of its stony heart ; here and 
 there were pretty villages or farmhouses, 
 surrounded by soft, green meadows and 
 fields of clover and orchards, their pink and 
 white blossoms blooming out in the sunlit 
 air.
 
 20 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 Clarice stood shading her eyes from 
 the sun's glare; and with glowing cheeks 
 and lips half parted, drawing in the fresh 
 sea hreeze, and regarding the scene with 
 evident satisfaction, she said — 
 
 IC 
 
 How can we ever be dull, with such a 
 
 scene as this always before us ? Why, it is 
 full of life, dad dear — a real, pure life, better 
 than the brawling world's life we have left 
 behind us." 
 
 The old man patted her hand softly, evi- 
 dently well pleased at her contentment. 
 Bouncer stood by her side wagging his tail 
 slowly, occasionally giving a yelp of satis- 
 faction, as though he shared her enjoyment 
 and thoroughly understood her feelings. 
 Jerry, who was altogether a dog of more 
 commonplace character, had gone off on a 
 foraging expedition, and to take a glimpse of 
 the new premises on his own account. 
 
 The picture of age and youth as they
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 21 
 
 stood together in front of the old grey 
 mansion was a pleasant one. The old man, 
 Mr. Fleming — we may as well introduce 
 him personally at once — was a notable 
 looking man ; tall, thin, with a slight stoop 
 in the shoulders, such as is apt to bow the 
 figure of a man when he is over sixty, with 
 a pale complexion, thick wavy snow-white 
 hair, and dark eyes gleaming from be- 
 neath grizzled browns ; the natural expres- 
 sion of the face was full of benevoleijce 
 and kindliness, but circumstances some- 
 how seemed to have ^'writ his life awry," 
 and turned the current of his feeling 
 and the course of his actions into a more 
 narrow and bitter channel than nature had 
 intended they should flow in ; there was a 
 restless, suspicious expression in his eyes, 
 which sometimes contracted with a gloom 
 that was almost savage in its intensity ; 
 but none of this was visible now, there was
 
 22 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 nothing but love and tenderness in his gaze 
 as he regarded the fair girl beside him. 
 She was fair, the very blondest of blondes, 
 with a complexion that was milk-white in 
 its dazzling fairness, with just a suspicion 
 of a rose tint upon her cheeks ; her rich, 
 full lips were always half parted, which gave 
 a peculiarly innocent expression to her face ; 
 her hair was of the purest gold, and grew 
 low upon the forehead, not in a fuzz of curls 
 and crinkles, but in natural wavy lines, 
 parted in the middle, drawn back and 
 gathered into a low knot behind — much as 
 the beauty of a thousand years ago is repre- 
 sented in the lovely bust of *' Clytie," so 
 familiar to our sight. Her blue eyes looked 
 dreamily out from beneath the straight, 
 level brows ; but they were not always 
 dreamy, sometimes a look came into them 
 as though a world of tragedy was hidden 
 therein, as though she had lived through
 
 THE NEW TENANTS. 23 
 
 some terrible episode, or was to confront or 
 become an actor in some great tragedy in 
 the future — perhaps the premonitory 
 symptoms were working in the air, mani- 
 festing themselves to the spiritual sight, 
 while the mortal eyes were vainly trying to 
 grasp and comprehend what was to come. 
 
 It was impossible to see this girl without 
 being attracted by her, and wondering about 
 her, and trying to gather somewhat of her 
 history from her face ; but, whatever might 
 lie in the past or await her in the future, 
 the present, in this lovely lonely corner of 
 the world, seemed to open out only a pros- 
 pect of peace ; it seemed impossible that 
 tragedy should reach forth its hand and 
 touch her here.
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE. 
 
 DAYS passed on, and the inmates of the 
 Manor House remained shrouded in 
 mystery — or so it appeared to the curious 
 eyes and tongues of Penally. Once or 
 twice the family had heen seen driving 
 through the village, and an old fisherman 
 had met them strolling along the beach in 
 the gloaming, had exchanged ''good even- 
 ings," and that was all ! The usual trades- 
 people called at the house daily for orders, 
 which were always given in writing, and 
 with a liberal exchange of* smiles, and a 
 volley of un comprehended words ; but as
 
 THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE. 25 
 
 neither party understood the language of 
 the other, there was no harm done. No 
 gossip from the kitchen told the doings in 
 the parlour, and no gleams of the family 
 history wandered out into the world beyond. 
 An old lame fishwife w^as the only person 
 who had penetrated into the house. The 
 young mistress had seen her toiling up the 
 hill, and had desired her to go into the 
 kitchen and rest awhile. She had come to 
 her there, and talked to her, and asked ]jer 
 about the poor folk, their doings and their 
 needs ; and had listened with patient sym- 
 pathy to the poor soul's story of the hard- 
 ships the fishermen had to endure on stormy 
 nights at sea ; and then how often they 
 came home with empty nets, sails torn, and 
 craft crippled, barely reaching the land 
 with their lives ; and while they worked 
 to repair the damage, but for the help of 
 neighbours almost as poor as themselves.
 
 26 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 must have starved outright. '' An her kind 
 words warmed my heart better 'n the meat 
 and drink she gave me/' said the old woman, 
 as she related her experiences to a group of 
 fishermen and women, who, as she came 
 down the beach, left off mending their boats 
 and nets, and surrounded her, eager for the 
 news. Some of the old men were gaunt and 
 grim, their faces scarred with half a century's 
 battle with the wild tempestuous sea ; the 
 younger men, already bronzed with rough 
 weather, were stalwart and strong — young 
 sea-dogs, soaked through and through with 
 the salt sea brine. All alike gathered round, 
 as eager to hear the news as though the 
 doings and mystery of the Manor House 
 concerned them in their hardworking life 
 at all ! But people who have little excite- 
 ment in their own lives — no matter whether 
 they be high or low — take the keenest 
 interest in that of their neighbours. It was
 
 THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE. 27 
 
 astonishing how much the old woman found 
 to say of that one brief interview — inter- 
 larding the facts with scraps from her own 
 imagination, telling not only what she saw 
 and heard, but what she thought and fancied! 
 They followed her with a running fire of 
 remarks and interrogations, and having 
 discussed the subject in all its bearings, and 
 considered it gravely, they decided that no 
 matter where the new gentry at the Manor 
 House came from, and no matter whether 
 they were foreigners or not, so long as they 
 had consideration for, and sympathy with, 
 the poor, they were as good as the best 
 Christians about Penally ; wiser heads than 
 theirs might have come to no better con- 
 clusion. 
 
 The rectory and church of Penally was 
 some little distance from the village, and 
 also from the Manor House. Of course it 
 was expected that the Kector, the Kev.
 
 28 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 Joseph Spencer, would be among the first 
 to call on his new parishioners ; it was 
 clearly his duty to do so from courtesy, as 
 well as regarding the matter from a religious 
 point of view, for of whatever denomination 
 of Christians they might be, they would 
 naturally expect the recognition of the 
 rector of the parish, and if they did not 
 approve of his creed, would at least appre- 
 ciate his courtesy. 
 
 The Rev. Joseph Spencer was a mild, 
 mousy-looking man, with a slow gliding 
 motion, and a low, soft voice, that had some- 
 thing of the purring quality of the pussy-cat 
 in it. His countenance expressed nothing in 
 particular ; it was generally, when in society, 
 clothed in smiles, and wore an amiable air 
 of self-satisfaction. Some people say the 
 face is an index to the mind ; it may be so, 
 but it is an index that requires a great deal 
 of correction before it can be admitted in
 
 THEIB FIRST APPEABANCE. 29 
 
 the current edition of human nature. Tak- 
 ing the Eev. Joseph Spencer's face as an 
 index to his mind, you would have said 
 there was nothing in it which would be a 
 mistake, for he had a great deal of mind ; it 
 might not be of the finest quality, but there 
 was plenty of it, such as it was. He had a 
 profound respect for his calling, combined 
 with a strong sense of his own responsibility, 
 which was sometimes too much for him ; he 
 felt that the salvation of the whole parish 
 depended upon his single exertions, and to a 
 conscientious man this was a very trying 
 position. 
 
 Most of the neighbouring clergymen con- 
 tented themselves with minding their own 
 business, and leaving their parishioners 
 alone, except when they could be of use 
 to them, then they were always to the 
 fore, comforting the sick and sorrowful 
 with kind words and cheering promises,
 
 so IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 showing the miserable how to get out of 
 the slough of despond into the clean way 
 again, helping the helpless to help them- 
 selves — which is, perhaps, the hardest task 
 of all — leading and guiding their flocks in 
 the right direction ; but Mr. Spencer did 
 not approve of what he called ^' a weak, 
 namby-pamby way of doing things." He 
 went vigorously to work, and did his duty 
 to his own satisfaction at least, if not 
 always to other people's. He hunted up 
 the sins of his parishioners as though he 
 loved them ; he pursued them with lash 
 and scourge, and hurled such fierce denun- 
 ciations on the heads of the poor sinners, 
 that they fled at the sound of his soft, per- 
 sistent voice, and hid their sins out of sight, 
 while he gloried in his achievement, and 
 fancied he had slain the sin, whereas he 
 had only tempted the sinner to add hypo- 
 crisy to the rest of his vices. Well, he was
 
 THE IB FIBST APPEABANCE. 31 
 
 sincere in his way, and believed in the 
 wisdom of his own proceedings, both as a 
 magistrate and as a clergyman ; for he was 
 Justice of the Peace for the county, and 
 was noted for the strict, stern justice he 
 meted out to all wrong-doers, from a petty 
 delinquent to the hardened criminal, they 
 all knew the harshest sentence the law 
 allowed would be given to them by the 
 mild-mannered Eector. His was strict jus- 
 tice, untempered by mercy or consideration 
 of circumstances surrounding the culprit^^ 
 no *^ extenuating circumstances '' were ad- 
 mitted into his code of administration. 
 He was proud of the evenhanded way in 
 which he held the scales of justice — no 
 hair's-breadth of favour on either side ; and 
 with something of the old Spartan spirit 
 he used to boast that if his own flesh and 
 blood were brought before him in criminal 
 guise, he would pronounce sentence as upon
 
 32 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 a stranger. God help him should that day 
 of trial ever come ! 
 
 His wife, Mrs. Spencer, was a most 
 worthy helpmeet to her lord, his very 
 counterpart in petticoats. She was a 
 small, shrivelled, wiry little woman, with 
 the small black eyes and thin sharp fea- 
 tures w^hich invariably indicate the shrew, 
 and she was rich in all shrewish virtues — 
 a fact fully realised by those who were un- 
 fortunately drafted into her service. Still, 
 she was what is called a thoroughly good 
 woman — she kept the ten commandments, 
 as respectable, well-regulated sinners gene- 
 rally do ; she never outraged propriety, and 
 the high, rigidly moral tone of her mind was 
 a thing unquestioned ; in fact, she had so 
 many principles crowded into a small space 
 none of them had room to grow or bear 
 any pleasant fruit ; one principle reacted so 
 strongly upon another that they became a
 
 THEIB FIBST APPEARANCE, 33 
 
 tangled mass, dwarfed and stunted, whence 
 no generous or kindly thing could be extri- 
 cated. She had no sympathy with bodily 
 suffering or mental tribulation, and generally 
 comforted the afflicted by trying to assure 
 them that their troubles were their own 
 fault, and they ^' ought to bear up." Her 
 really sterling good qualities were marred 
 by their hard casing ; but, nevertheless, she 
 was a good woman, detestably good ! a few 
 feminine follies, a touch of tenderness, a 
 gleam of kindliness, might have won affec- 
 tionate regard; many worse women are 
 dearly loved, she was only tolerated. How- 
 ever, she was a helpmate to her husband; 
 each believed in the other's perfection, so 
 the world had nothing to say in the matter. 
 This notable pair had a son and a 
 daughter, each being an improvement on 
 the parent stock, so far as can be at pre- 
 sent judged, for they are still young, and 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 34 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 the germs of good or evil within their 
 natures have yet to develop and bear 
 poison, fruit, or flowers — who can tell 
 which ? Hugh was a fine, lithe young 
 fellow, of about four-and-twenty, and was 
 keeping his last term at Oxford. He was 
 brimming over with health and high spirits ; 
 he was a smart oarsman, a crack shot, a 
 graceful and fearless rider ; in fact, he was 
 thoroughly accomplished in all athletic 
 sports and manly exercises ; wherever 
 manly strength, courage, or endurance, 
 was called into action, he stood always 
 in the first rank. His intellectual capaci- 
 ties were perhaps limited, certainly their 
 development was slow, and by no means 
 to the satisfaction of his superiors ; he was 
 most popular with his fellows, but to his 
 college, which had turned out some of the 
 most prominent men of the day, he was no 
 credit at all.
 
 THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE. 35 
 
 The daughter, Miriam, was some years 
 younger. She was taller, fairer, handsomer 
 than her mother, with light brown wavy 
 hair, and large blue eyes like painted china, 
 and almost as dull and expressionless. Her 
 character w^as in a crude state of formation, 
 though it was naturally warped and nar- 
 rowed by home influences. Whether those 
 pale eyes would ever glow with passion or 
 melt with tenderness were speculations that 
 only the future could decide. 
 
 Just about the time when the Manor House 
 was taken possession of by the new arrivals 
 Hugh Spencer happened to be at home for a 
 brief vacation, and of course was stirred by 
 the current of curiosity that was working 
 round them, though it did not take posses- 
 sion of him so strongly as it did of some 
 others. He listened to the clatter of 
 tongues about him, and merely uttered his 
 own wonderment in brief lazy phrases 
 which were forgotten as soon as uttered.
 
 36 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 Sunday morning came, and everybody 
 wondered whether the new-comers would 
 make their appearance at church; a great 
 deal of neighbourly feeling depended upon 
 that. The Eector had not yet had an oppor- 
 tunity of paying his respects to them, but 
 intended doing so the following week. 
 Meanwhile the church bells rang out on 
 the still morning air, echoing over the hills 
 and through the valleys with a sweet 
 solemn sound such as only the Sabbath 
 bells have power to awaken. That part of 
 the country, as I have said before, was 
 sparsely populated, but the scattered popu- 
 lation came from far and near, and gathered 
 together at the parish church as was their 
 duty on the Sabbath morning. Some 
 sauntered through the quaint little church- 
 yard, stopping here and there at the grave 
 of some friend or kindred, perhaps laying a 
 bunch of bright flowers on the green sod, a
 
 THEIB FIRST APPEARANCE, 37 
 
 token of remembrance to those who lay 
 beneath, whose feet had once trodden those 
 well-worn paths as they listened to the self- 
 same sounds — deaf now — deaf to the music 
 of the church bells for evermore. 
 
 Many glances were cast along the winding 
 high-road through which the gentry from the 
 Manor House would come to the church, if 
 they came at all ; but there was no signs of 
 them. The bells ceased, the last few 
 stragglers entered the low arched doorway, 
 but scarcely had the congregation settled 
 dov/n to ifcs customary devotions, when the 
 doors opened and let in a stream of sun- 
 light as the family from the Manor House 
 entered. It had increased now to a party of 
 three ; for in addition to the grand, white- 
 headed old man and the young girl, there 
 came in a tall, broad-shouldered, good- 
 looking young man, with a smooth brown 
 beard and brown eyes, and altogether of a
 
 m IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 distinguished appearance ; and as his hand 
 rested on the pew door, those who observed 
 it could not help thinking what a strong, 
 white, shapely hand it was. I am afraid 
 that the new-comers interfered somewhat 
 with the devotional spirit of the people; fur- 
 tive glances were cast towards them, and a 
 sort of mental arithmetic, a general summing 
 up of their appearance and of their possible 
 characters, ran through the minds of the 
 worshippers. 
 
 The inhabitants of the Eector's pew, how- 
 ever, with one exception, kept in solemn 
 position. Mrs. Spencer would as soon have 
 thought of cutting her head off as of turning 
 it in the wi^ong direction during the service. 
 Her daughter, Miriam, as usual followed her 
 mother's example ; but the refractory Hugh 
 faced boldly round, swept the whole party 
 with one swift glance, then settled his atten- 
 tion on Clarice, thinking, or rather feeling.
 
 THEIB FIRST APPEARANCE. 89 
 
 that his eyes had never heheld a face so 
 divinely fair ; fair, not as to complexion only, 
 but in the broadest acceptation of the word. 
 In vain he tried to turn his eyes away, some 
 mesmeric influence seemed to draw them 
 to her face against his will, for he felt it 
 was rude to stare so persistently at the 
 beautiful stranger, but he could not help it ; 
 even when he tore his eyes away and tried 
 to fix his attention on his father's sermon, 
 her face shadowed itself in the air and 
 floated before him. He strained his ears to 
 catch the sound of her voice as she uttered 
 the responses, but it was lost in the hearty 
 sonorous responses of the older man, and 
 swallowed up in the volume of voices round 
 them. 
 
 Presently the anthem began. The congre- 
 gation was musical, and it seemed as 
 though every man, woman, and child up- 
 lifted their voices and sang their hardest,
 
 40 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 whether in time or out of time it was a 
 matter of supreme indifference. In chm'ch 
 everybody thinks they have a right to sing, 
 whether they have the quaUfication for it or 
 not; they love the sound of their own 
 voices, and take every opportunity of grati- 
 fying their taste, heedless of the torture 
 they inflict on their more cultivated fellow 
 creatures, but mere lip service is nothing in 
 the sight of G'od. He accepts the incense 
 rising from the pure heart, no matter how 
 tuneless the utterance, so that it is in His 
 honour and glory ; the rude voice of the 
 peasant is as welcome to His ears as the 
 rich tones of the prima donna. What was 
 wanting in music the present congregation 
 made up in noise. Mr. Spencer was not 
 sensitive upon the subject ; he liked this 
 kind of demonstration, and encouraged his 
 flock to uplift to His glory such voices as 
 God had given them.
 
 THEIB FIEST APPEABANCE. 41 
 
 Gradually into the discordant roar of 
 voices there crept a sweet melodious 
 sound ; low at first, then swelling and rising 
 till it impregnated the air with its own 
 sweet music. One by one the harsher 
 voices hushed, every man looked at his 
 neighbour and listened and wondered 
 whence came that unusual and delicious 
 sound. Such a thing had never happened in 
 Penally Church ! Hitherto they had had 
 things all to themselves ; they hardly knew 
 whether to resent this strange phenomenon 
 as an intrusion or welcome it as an invisible 
 grace sent straight from heaven ! Some 
 ceased singing altogether, some few shut 
 their eyes, opened their mouths, and roared 
 louder than before, as though trying to 
 drown the sweetness in their own muddy 
 strain. 
 
 Hugh Spencer listened with bated breath ; 
 he seemed to hear with his heart rather than
 
 42 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 with his ears, for he was deaf to all sounds 
 save that one sweet woman s voice. The 
 anthem ceased, the congregation sank down 
 on its knees to pray, but Hugh remained 
 standing in a listening, waiting attitude — 
 apparently lost and absorbed by one 
 thought ; but a violent tug at his coat-tail 
 recalled him to himself. He glared round 
 just in time to catch a stern rebuke from 
 the corner of his mother's eye as she 
 dropped her head into her prayer book, 
 and, with anything but devotion in his 
 thoughts, he took his place beside her. 
 
 Mr. Spencer never gave long sermons, 
 they were generally of about twenty minutes' 
 duration. He was sensible enough to know 
 that he could not -^x the attention of his 
 hearers for a longer period, even if he were 
 himself inclined to extend his discourse ; 
 after all, a great deal may be said in twenty 
 minutes. In that brief space a brisk orator
 
 THEIB FIBST APPEARANCE, 43 
 
 will awaken the religious fervour of his flock 
 and lash them into a state of pious extasy, 
 while a mere commonplace preacher may 
 drone for an hour without stirring a single 
 pulse of his hearers. Twenty minutes is 
 quite long enough to listen to the mono- 
 tonous voice of any one man ; at the end of 
 that time the very sameness of the sound is 
 apt to send the congregation to sleep, and 
 Mr. Spencer would not run the risk of 
 tempting them to sin in that direction, 
 therefore his discourse was always brief. On 
 the present occasion it was even briefer 
 than usual, but to Hugh it seemed endless. 
 However, the service was over at last. 
 Now, as a rule, Hugh was most punctilious 
 in his attentions to his womankind, but on 
 this occasion he forgot everything ; he was 
 animated only by one wild impulse to rush 
 after the Manor House family, with what 
 object he hardly knew, he had not had time
 
 44 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 to think. As he was about to follow his 
 impulse, his mother laid a detaining hand 
 upon him, and a decorous crowd moved 
 slowly between him and the door, and 
 though inwardly chafing in spirit, he was 
 obliged to walk with equal decorum by her 
 side down the aisle. Once outside the 
 church he gazed eagerly round, but was 
 only just in time to see the trio turn into 
 the narrow winding lane on their way home 
 to the Manor House. So they had walked to 
 church, that was evident, and a good many 
 pair of eyes followed them wonderingly. 
 
 They had come like shadows, and departed 
 without a word or even exchanging a single 
 salutation with any one about the place. 
 Mr. Laurence, who for the last thirty years 
 had done all the "law" for the scattered 
 population of Penally, came briskly out of 
 church and joined the Spencer party before 
 they had left the churchyard. After ex-
 
 THEIB FIRST APPEABANCE. 45 
 
 changing the usual commonplace salutation 
 with the ladies, he tapped Hugh on the 
 shoulder, jerked his head in the direction of 
 the departed attractions, and said : 
 
 **I called there yesterday; come along, 
 and I'll tell you all about them." With an 
 unusual stretch of generosity, Mrs. Spencer 
 invited him home to the Eectory to lunch.
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 rriHE Eectory table was never very liber- 
 -L ally supplied, strict economy being one 
 of the virtues Mrs. Spencer rigidly practised. 
 She could not outgrow with better circum- 
 stances the enforced economy of her early 
 days, when her husband was a poor, a very 
 poor man, and bone-scraping and cheese- 
 paring were the engrossing occupations of 
 her daily life. Circumstances had improved, 
 they stood now on the topmost branch of 
 the clerical tree, had a firm footing in the 
 world, and a handsome income to prevent
 
 " spencer-onia:' 47 
 
 them from falling ; but the penurious spirit 
 followed her through all her days, and kept 
 her in a continual state of warfare with the 
 rest of her household, for Mr. Spencer liked 
 a good dinner, and sometimes stood upon 
 his dignity, and insisted upon having it. 
 But domestic warfare is a wearying, 
 spirit-breaking thing, and to a man who 
 has other important occupations it is 
 almost impossible it can be carried on at 
 all successfully. It is easier to give way 
 than to live in a constant state of revolt 
 against the powers that be. Not that Mrs. 
 Spencer was allowed to carry on her 
 economical operations in undisturbed peace 
 of mind by any means. She occasionally 
 quailed beneath the marital storm pro- 
 voked by the exercise of her cherished 
 virtue ; and then her son Hugh's healthy 
 appetite was the bugbear of her life. He 
 ivould be fed, and if the legitimate supplies
 
 48 IN SIGHT OF LAND, 
 
 fell sliort, would stroll leisurely out and 
 twist the neck of the fattest fowl on the 
 premises, and broil it for his own special 
 delectation. 
 
 It was no use attempting to parry the 
 attacks of Hugh's hunger, so in some sort 
 of compensation for her sufferings thereby 
 she put her household on the shortest of 
 short commons ; and when a rebellion arose 
 against the shortness and the quality of the 
 provisions the stir reached the Kector's ears. 
 He had the household put upon board-wages 
 forthwith; so the lady's operations were 
 thenceforth confined to the parlour, and 
 there, to a certain extent, the Kector could 
 keep an eye upon things himself. 
 
 *' I don't so much mind being starved 
 when we are alone," he had once said, in 
 grim satire to his better half; *^ but I will 
 not be disgraced in the presence of my 
 friends, or in the sight of my parish." And
 
 " spencee-onia:' 49 
 
 for a time things had gone better, though 
 the lady herself did not quite approve of the 
 arrangement, as it took a certain amount of 
 power out of her hands. She loved to over- 
 look the larder and superintend the vora- 
 cious appetites of her servants, parcelling 
 out the scraps of cold meat, etc. ; for woe 
 betide those who dared to appropriate a 
 scrap without her permission, and any 
 suggestion as to the unfitness of the food for 
 human digestion was answered by a homily 
 upon the wicked sin of daintiness. 
 
 Her hospitable invitation to Mr. Laurence 
 took the whole family by surprise, as their 
 Sunday meal generally consisted of bread- 
 and-butter, with perhaps a single chop for the 
 hungry Hugh ; but on this special Sunday 
 they did not know but that she might have 
 made magnificent preparations, with a 
 shadowy notion lurking in the background of 
 her mind of establishing friendly relations 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 no IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 with the Manor House family by inviting 
 them home to luncheon should they give her 
 an opportunity of doing so ; but that oppor- 
 tunity failing, she had forced her hospitable 
 spirit to embrace Mr. Laurence. Hence 
 they followed her lead in trustful mood. 
 
 The dining-room was a large, handsome 
 apartment, sweet with the scent of spring 
 flowers, while an invigorating fragrance 
 from the sea came in at the open window. 
 The table was laid with the whitest of white 
 napery, and an abundance of shining silver 
 and glass, and a profusion of primroses 
 scattered about everywhere. So far all 
 promised well. There were two dishes, one 
 at each end of the table, their bright covers 
 evidently hiding something hot and tempt- 
 ing. The cold refreshments were scantily 
 provided ; a few broken sardines lurked 
 ignominiously in a tiny ocean of rancid oil, 
 and a couple of hard-boiled eggs, cut in half^
 
 " SPENCEB-ONIAJ' 51 
 
 reposed upon a parsley bed ; a large loaf, and 
 a few small nuts of butter completed the 
 cold refreshments for the meal. Grace was 
 said, and with a great flourish the covers 
 were removed, and disclosed upon the dish 
 before the master of the house a savory 
 stew — a very savory, if not a very tempting 
 stew ; it had almost walked out of the larder 
 the day before — its progress had only been 
 arrested by a bath of vinegar, a plentiful 
 shower of pepper, salt, and a disguise . of 
 ketchup and other tasty condiments, which, 
 after some mysterious culinary operations, 
 fitted it to masquerade upon the table as 
 a delicious something a la jardiniere. 
 But the disguise was too thin; the sus- 
 picious character of the original mess re- 
 vealed itself — the cover was replaced. With 
 a thundercloud upon his brow, but a ghost 
 of a smile upon his lips, Mr. Spencer said, 
 in the oiliest of accents : 
 
 ^f^fVERsiTY OF 
 ^^'-'^OIS LIBRARY,
 
 52 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 ^^ What have you there, Jemima ? " 
 
 *^A little devilled chicken, dear," she 
 answered blandly, as a couple of bare drum- 
 sticks, artistically arranged on either side of 
 the breastbone, and profusely decorated with 
 watercress and parsley, were revealedto view. 
 ^' May I send you some, Mr. Laurence ? " 
 she added, sweetly. 
 
 ^'Pray help your daughter first," he 
 answered. ^' Unless I have something here 
 to tempt you? " he added, turning to Miss 
 Spencer. 
 
 "Thanks," she answered. ''I take only 
 bread-and-butter in the middle of the 
 day." 
 
 " That is exactly my case," rejoined Mr. 
 Laurence, who was perfectly well aware of 
 the peculiarities of the mistress of the 
 house, and when he accepted her invitation 
 to lunch did so under no delusion whatever. 
 " With a good breakfast and a good dinner.
 
 •* SPENCEB-ONIA." 53 
 
 a mere crust and a glass of wine is the 
 proper thing for the midday snack." 
 
 *^ For all those who consider their health, 
 it is certainly the most correct arrange- 
 ment," replied the lady, graciously. " Hugh, 
 my dear boy, what are you taking ? " 
 
 ** There doesn't seem much for the * dear 
 boy ' to take," said the Eector, brusquely. 
 *^Have up the cold joint. I like sl piece de 
 resistance^ where one can cut and come 
 again," he added smilingly to his visitor. 
 
 "You know we never have large joints, 
 Joseph," said the lady, severely. "Hugh, 
 dear, do taste this fricandeau.'^ Hugh 
 wisely refused. "But you used to Kke 
 French cookery," she urged, " and this is 
 done after a very famous receipt." 
 
 " Thanks, my dear mother," he answered ; 
 "but I don't care for French cookery a la 
 S'penceroni, Nature did not build me on 
 the same ethereal principles as the rest of
 
 54 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 my family," he added to Mr. Laurence. '' I 
 go in for three good square meals a day." 
 
 ^' You are not carrying out that principle 
 now," observed Mr. Laurence, seeing he 
 touched nothing, not even bread-and- 
 butter." 
 
 *' But I shall presently. Look in at Kad- 
 cliffe's in about an hour, and you'll find me 
 seated before a broad sirloin; you'll see 
 then how I get along," said Hugh, paying 
 the smile of satisfaction in advance. 
 
 *' People preach a crusade against over- 
 drinking," smiled Mrs. Spencer; ''but 
 nobody has a word to say about over-eating, 
 and I think gluttony is as great a vice as 
 drunkenness." 
 
 '' So it is, my dear Jemima," replied Mr. 
 Spencer; ''but at least you have the satis- 
 faction of knowing that you do your best to 
 put that vice down." 
 
 Of course they could not discuss their
 
 « SPENCEB-ONIA." 55 
 
 neighbours in the presence of the servants ; 
 but as soon as the meagre meal was over, 
 and the door closed on the domestics, they 
 moved to the attack. 
 
 '* Now, Mr. Laurence," said Mrs. Spencer, 
 settling down for a nice dish of gossip, 
 ^*you say you've called at the Manor 
 House. We have not had an opportunity 
 of doing so yet, though I certainly think the 
 first call should have been from the church ; 
 but tell us, who did you see ? what did they 
 talk about ? and how do they seem to like 
 Cornwall?" 
 
 " My dear mother, they have not been 
 here long enough to know much about the 
 place," said Hugh. 
 
 *'And certainly they can know nothing 
 about the people, for they have seen nobody," 
 observed the Kector. 
 
 *'I think they are very uncommon and 
 queer-looking," said Miriam.
 
 56 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 " Queer ! not at all — uncommon ! very," 
 rejoined Hugh, sharply. ''It is not often 
 you see that kind of thing down in this 
 desolate hole ; they are a cut ahove the 
 general breed altogether." 
 
 " That is a slangy way of talking, Hugh," 
 rejoined Mrs. Spencer, deprecatingly; "and 
 I don't know that it is quite correct. They 
 are certainly very odd-looking — not that I 
 object to them on that score." 
 
 " That's lucky," replied Hugh, " especially 
 as you can't alter or cut them down to your 
 own pattern." 
 
 " Taking them altogether, I think them 
 rather attractive," added Mrs. Spencer, 
 finishing her sentence, entirely ignoring her 
 son's interruption.. 
 
 " Eather," echoed Hugh, emphatically. 
 "And decidedly good Christians, or they 
 wouldn't have walked three miles to hear 
 the governor preach."
 
 « spenceb-onia:' 57 
 
 " The old gentleman is a very dignified, 
 fine-looking man," said Mrs. Spencer. 
 
 " And the girl, I suppose, would be called 
 pretty," said Miriam, hesitating, as though 
 for her part she rather doubted it. 
 
 ^^ Pretty!" echoed Hugh; ^' she's the 
 very loveliest girl I have ever seen, more 
 like an angel than a woman." 
 
 *'You can't say much for her modesty, 
 anyhow," rejoined his sister. *'I never 
 heard any one sing out in the way she did 
 this morning, especially a stranger in a 
 strange church, and in my opinion " 
 
 *^ And I dare say * your opinion * will be of 
 supreme importance to them when they 
 come to know it," said Hugh, almost 
 savagely, for the general family tone irri- 
 tated him. 
 
 ** Well," exclaimed the Eector, ^* you have 
 asked Mr. Laurence half a dozen questions 
 and haven't given him a chance to answer 
 one.''
 
 58 IN SIGHT OF LAND 
 
 '' We all beg his pardon," laughed Hugh ; 
 '^ but you know, my dear sir, women are 
 like horses, and when they get the bit in 
 their mouths they are off at a tangent." 
 
 ^^ At any rate you laid no hand upon the 
 bridle rein, but rather helped the runaways," 
 rejoined Mr. Laurence, who was deliberate 
 in his manner and movements, and had 
 waited in patience to put in his word. 
 
 " Well, we've come to a stand-still now, 
 so fire away and tell us all you know about 
 them," said Hugh. 
 
 ^^ We called there, Mrs. Laurence and I, 
 yesterday, and saw the whole family at 
 home." 
 
 *^The old gentleman, and his son and 
 daughter ? " suggested Mrs. Spencer, 
 anxious for every detail. 
 
 ** Well, that does not turn out to be the 
 relationship," he answered. 
 
 ^^ Surely the young people are brother and 
 sister ? " inquired Miriam,
 
 " spencer-onia: 59 
 
 Horrible idea ! ^' Surely 7iot husband and 
 wife ! " exclaimed Hugh. 
 
 '^ Not that either. The old gentleman 
 first introduced me to the young lady, 
 saying, ' My daughter Clarice ; ' then to his 
 nephew, Mr. Swayne. When I afterwards, 
 in the course of conversation, addressed the 
 young lady as Miss Fleming, he smiled and 
 corrected me, saying, ^ She is my step- 
 daughter ; her name is Lemaire.' So you 
 see the family is composed of Mr. Fleming, 
 his nephew, and step- daughter." 
 
 ^^ And does that fellow, the nephew, stay 
 here always ? " inquired Hugh. 
 
 ^* My dear boy, I could not presume to 
 ask such a question." 
 
 *^ And do they seem to be nice pleasant 
 kind of people, and inclined to be sociable ? " 
 asked Mrs. Spencer. 
 
 '*' I don't know about being sociable
 
 60 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 exactly," returned Mr. Laurence, '^ but they 
 are certainly a most charming, interesting 
 family, very cultivated and agreeable, but I 
 should say might be a little exclusive." 
 
 *^ Of course that is quite right and 
 natural," exclaimed Mrs. Spencer ; *' one 
 couldn't expect people of their kind to know 
 everybody." 
 
 " And as everybody lives half a dozen 
 miles from everybody else, there is no 
 necessity that they should," rejoined 
 Hugh. 
 
 " Unfortunately J, as the Eector's wife, 
 am forced into intimacies with people whom, 
 under other circumstances, I should not 
 know." 
 
 '* You are in your proper sphere, my dear 
 Jemima," said the Rector, taking her words 
 as an insinuation against her position, 
 against himself. *' You have here exactly 
 the kind of position you ought to value —
 
 . " spencer-onia:' 6i 
 
 among the poor, the humble, and the igno- 
 rant, to whom it is your blessed privilege to 
 be not only a spiritual light, but a moral 
 guide." 
 
 *' It is all very well talking, Joseph," 
 replied the lady, ^' but suppose people luon't 
 be guided, and the more light you show the 
 farther they wander away into the darkness ! 
 We've been here ten years, as you know% 
 Mr. Laurence, and devoted ourselves to the 
 parish, and in spite of our labours people 
 are worse now than they were when we first 
 came among them, and there's more vice, 
 more drunkenness, more poaching ; and I'm 
 sure I'm always rating the women, warning 
 them of the terrible punishment which 
 awaits them in the next world, and the 
 Kector never misses a chance of sending a 
 man to jail ! " she added, viciously. 
 
 " The manufacturing of jail-birds made 
 easy," exclaimed Hugh. ^'People take
 
 C2 IN SIGHT OF LAND, 
 
 human nature at the wrong end, and then 
 wonder they can't get it right." 
 
 "Wrong end — what do you mean?" 
 snapped his mother. "What can one do 
 more than punish the sinful ? " 
 
 "Ah, that's just it," returned Hugh ; " if 
 you punished less, perhaps there would be 
 more satisfaction on both sides. Eemember 
 the old gentleman who gave the thief a pair 
 of silver candlesticks, and turned him into 
 an honest man and a good Christian for ever 
 afterwards ! " 
 
 " That is an upside down way of doing 
 business, which I don't at all approve," said 
 Mrs. Spencer, severely. " I call that down- 
 right encouragement of vice — it is our duty 
 to labour for the suppression of it." 
 
 " But, my dear mother, your labour by 
 your own account only seems to increase 
 it," he rejoined. " Suppose you go on 
 another tack, and instead of talking so much
 
 " SPENCEB-ONIA." 63 
 
 about the next world try to make the poor 
 folk jollier, and in this youll find things go 
 easier all round. What's the use of preach- 
 ing to a set of poor, ill-fed, hard-worked 
 people ? give 'em a good meal, I say — fill 
 their bodies, and then pitch into their souls, 
 and preach and pray as hard as you like — a 
 fellow can't be pious on an empty stomach." 
 
 ^'You have a very coarse, commonplace 
 way of putting things, Hugh," said Mrs. 
 Spencer, with an air of deep disgust. '^ I 
 regard matters through a larger view of 
 spiritual light." 
 
 *' Well, you have a wide field here for 
 spiritual gymnastics, but you don't seem to 
 make much of it, somehow." 
 
 While they were talking, the Eector had 
 passed into his study, resolved to receive no 
 information second hand, but to see and 
 judge of his parishioners for himself; Miriam 
 had been having a quiet chat aside with Mr.
 
 G4 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 Laurence, and now broke in upon the con- 
 versation, saying — '^ Yoa've wandered away 
 from the Manor House again, and Fve got 
 all the news. Mr. Laurence thinks there is 
 something wrong about Miss Lemaire." 
 
 '* Not wrong," exclaimed Mr. Laurence, 
 hastily, '^ only something a little strange. 
 Mr. Fleming seems to watch over her with 
 rather more than common parental care. I 
 fancy it is for her sake he has sought sea- 
 air and a mild climate." 
 
 ^' Judging from a mere cursory glance I 
 should say she was decidedly delicate, and 
 if they are really in search of health " (Mrs. 
 Spencer emphasized the " really " as if she 
 doubted it), '* I know of no place where they 
 are so likely to find it as at Penally ; but 
 there is so much mystery about them, one 
 can't help being a little anxious, perhaps 
 a little suspicious. One naturally likes 
 to know something about one's neighbours."
 
 " SPENCEB-ONIA:' 65 
 
 *' Oh, bother ! " replied the irritated Hugh. 
 *' Why can t you let your neighbours alone ? 
 What does it matter to you where they have 
 come from, or why they have come. If you 
 find them nice pleasant people, is not that 
 enough ? " 
 
 *^ No, Hugh, it certainly is not enough/' 
 said his mother, emphatically. ^' The worst 
 people are sometimes the most pleasant. 
 There's so much deceit, hypocrisy, and 
 wickedness in the world. They may be 
 Fenians, conspirators, flying from justice ; 
 or criminals or bankrupts, or — or — indeed it 
 is impossible to say what they might not 
 be." 
 
 ** Except," exclaimed Mr. Laurence, with 
 a quiet twinkle in his eye, for he knew the 
 lady well, *'that the kind of people you 
 mention don't travel in such a style, and 
 with such evidence of wealth as our new 
 neighbours do." 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 60 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 '' Ah, well ! when people try to hide what 
 they really are, it is no w^onder they should 
 be taken for what they are not," rejoined 
 Mrs. Spencer, sharply. 
 
 *'If you lived at Penally, Hugh, instead 
 of paying us a flying visit now and then, 
 you would quite understand how horribly 
 dull we should be if we could not speculate 
 about our neighbours," said Miriam, in 
 rather an injured tone. 
 
 *' Besides," added Mrs. Spencer, *^ it is 
 our duty as common Christians to take a 
 human interest in our neighbours." 
 
 ^' But when the * human interest' dwindles 
 down to a gossiping groove, as it generally 
 does with women," said Hugh, full of 
 spiteful speculations and slanderous insinua- 
 tions, ^' it would perhaps be as well, and 
 more Christianlike, if you let the ' human 
 interest ' alone." 
 
 ^' How severe you are," said Mrs. Spencer,
 
 " SPENCEJR-ONIA." 67 
 
 mildly; '* quite out of temper it seems, ai;d 
 on the Sabbath day too ! " 
 
 Miriam laughed. 
 
 ^^ I think Miss Lemaire is answerable for 
 Hugh's ill-temper ! He seems to have fallen 
 a victim at first sight." 
 
 ** Pshaw ! " exclaimed Hugh, as he strode 
 out of the room, and after a few minutes' 
 desultory chat Mr. Laurence followed him. 
 
 '' We haven't heard much from Mr. 
 Laurence, mother," said Miriam. 
 
 ''No, my dear," returned Mrs. Spencer; 
 "he says little, but he may know a great 
 deal more than he chooses to tell us — be- 
 sides he's a lawyer, and likes to keep things 
 close. We'll go over to the Manor House 
 to-morrow. I've a keen scent, and if I 
 smell a rat, I'll soon have it out of its hole, 
 tail and all ; but come, my dear, we shall be 
 late for afternoon service, and we should 
 not let worldly matters interfere with our 
 religious duties."
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 HUGH SPENCEK was up betimes in 
 the morning, and, with his gmi flmig 
 over his shoulder, started for a Uttle harm- 
 less sport among the sea-gulls or anything 
 else that came in his way during his 
 desultory ramble among the crags and cliffs 
 that made so picturesque the neighbour- 
 hood of Penally. As he crossed the 
 orchard he met Miriam returning from the 
 farmyard with a basket of new-laid eggs, 
 for she had sole charge of the poultry, and 
 kept the hens strictly to their duty, and if
 
 MAKING A CQ UAINTANCE. 69 
 
 they refused to lay, or condilcted themselves 
 in any eccentric or wandering fashion, they 
 had their necks wrung and were speedily 
 made an end of. On seeing her brother 
 equipped for a day's outing, she exclaimed 
 in surprise — 
 
 ** Well, you might let the sea-gulls rest 
 for a day. I know mother expects you to 
 go with us to the Manor House this after- 
 
 noon." 
 
 "Well, you know I don't particularly 
 care about paying morning calls," he 
 answered, ''especially with women." 
 
 **We thought you'd be glad of the 
 chance of making the acquaintance of your 
 fair St. Cecilia." 
 
 *' But I shall choose a chance of my own 
 making," he answered; "no stereotyped 
 introductions in that quarter for me." 
 
 "If they turn out satisfactory and we 
 like them," rejoined his sister, senten-
 
 70 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 tiously, *' we mean to ask them to dinner, 
 and get a few of our neighbours to meet 
 them." 
 
 ^* For heaven's sake don't do that, or I 
 shall turn tail and run ! " exclaimed Hugh, 
 who had a wholesome horror of the dreary 
 festivities that characterized the Eectory 
 dinner parties. ^^ Let them have breathing 
 time before we afflict them with that style 
 of entertainment." 
 
 ^^ You always complain of its being so dull 
 at Penally," rejoined his sister, reproach- 
 fully, ^* and yet, whenever we try to make 
 things lively, you get cross and dissatisfied." 
 
 ** Because you have such dismal ideas ol 
 liveliness," he answered. ^'Now, a picnic 
 at the Land's End would be the sort of 
 initiatory festivity that I should like." 
 
 ^^ And so should I," responded Miriam, 
 with unaccustomed liveliness. ** I'll speak 
 to mamma about it, and talk it over as
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 71 
 
 we go along. I think it's a capital idea, 
 Hugh.'' 
 
 *' You must look sharp about it, you 
 know," he rejoined, ** for I shall be going 
 back to Cambridge in a week; at least, 
 that's what I ought to do," he added, 
 correcting himself. '^ Au revoir ! I say, 
 Miriam," he continued, jerking his head in 
 the direction of the Manor House ; '* try and 
 make a fair impression over there ; you 
 don't have such a chance every day." 
 
 ** Oh ! of course," answered Miriam, who 
 had an exalted idea of her own importance, 
 as most commonplace people have ; ' ' and if 
 I find the girl nice, I dare say I shall pick 
 her up and get intimate with her, for a time 
 at least." 
 
 ** I'm off — so don't expect me till you see 
 me," said Hugh, interrupting her with 
 some impatience ; the family tone calmly 
 adopted by Miriam irritated and jarred
 
 72 7^ SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 npon his nerves ; the idea of that divinity 
 being ''picked up" by a piece of common 
 clay struck him as a kind of profanity 
 to which he could make no reply. 
 
 It was one of those sweet silent spring 
 mornings when everything seems watching 
 and waiting for the birth of the bright 
 summer time with its trailing troops of 
 fruits and flowers. The fresh, invigorating 
 air seemed to come down straight from 
 heaven laden with a thousand subtle per- 
 fumes, which gave new zest to the life 
 of man, as to the life of the woods, fields, 
 and flowers. Light of heart and light of 
 limb, a fine specimen of a stalwart young 
 Englishman, Hugh Spencer sauntered on 
 his way, his gun flung over his shoulder, 
 and a white wiry terrier at his heels, with 
 a brown patch over one eye and a long, 
 uncompromising tail ; a scaramouch of 
 a dog, a pariah and an outcast from his
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 73 
 
 nobler tribe, but the very apple of his 
 master's eye. 
 
 Hugh had rescued him from a violent 
 death in his early days of puppyhood, and 
 in acknowledgment of this obligation 
 the dog rewarded his master with the 
 most devoted and profound affection that 
 the canine mind is capable of feeling ; 
 but, as though to counterbalance his 
 devotion to the one human being, he 
 seemed to have a sworn enmity to every 
 other ; he neither loved nor obeyed any- 
 body except his master ; he hunted every- 
 thing that was huntable, from a cat upwards 
 and downwards, and if he could only get a 
 surreptitious snap at anybody's heels, he 
 '' went for him there and then " ; but a 
 word or look from his master was always 
 enough to control his high spirits and quell 
 the spirit of mischief within him. 
 
 This amiable beast revelled in the name
 
 74 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 of '' Crib/' being named after the celebrated 
 prize-fighter, whose proclivities he largely 
 inherited, for a fight — a good rollicking 
 fight — was a thing he most delighted in ; 
 no matter if his opponent were as big as 
 a donkey. Crib was always ready for the 
 attack, and sprang to it on the slightest 
 provocation, or on no provocation at all; 
 he indulged his pugnacious spirit merely 
 by way of exercise, and though he bore 
 upon him the scars of many a battle, his 
 fiery spirit was still unquenched. Close 
 upon his master's heels followed the evil- 
 minded Crib, looking hypocritically meek 
 and amiable, wagging his tail in a slow, 
 harmless fashion, as though not a spark of 
 mischief lingered therein. The sea-gulls 
 were allowed to have a good time, un- 
 molested by Hugh's gun; he seemed to 
 have forgotten the use of it. Whistling 
 softly to himself, he sauntered on, allowing
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 75 
 
 his feet to carry him whither they would, 
 apparently exercising no control over them. 
 Now and then he addressed a few words to 
 his foiirfooted companion ; it was his habit 
 to consult Crib whenever he was perplexed 
 in mind, or in any way troubled or doubt- 
 ful as to any particular course of conduct. 
 Crib listened with his intelligent eyes fixed 
 upon his master's face, looking wise as 
 though he were taking it all into his moral 
 digester, and after due meditation answered 
 with an approving bark and gravely undu- 
 lating tail — always to the satisfaction of 
 his master, who translated it according to 
 his own desire. 
 
 ^^All right," Hugh would answer; '^I 
 knew you would agree with me. Ah ! if 
 you could only talk, what an invaluable 
 friend you would be, old Crib ! " 
 
 Through the woods, under the shade of 
 the beautiful green trees, with the sunlight
 
 76 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 glinting through, Hugh wandered in sweet 
 contentment, with the sunshine in his heart 
 and snatches of old songs falHng from his 
 hps, keeping time with the songs of the 
 birds overhead. Emerging at length out 
 of the shadowy woods on to the broken 
 ground, still onwards he strolled seaward, 
 and soon reached the rugged grey cliffs. 
 Here he paused and looked out upon the 
 open sea. The sun poured down his full 
 measure of light, and flooded the land and 
 sea with golden glory, shining everywhere 
 alike, leaving no corner of the earth 
 unvisited, sending a narrow tremulous 
 pathway of dancing light across the sea, 
 over which the thoughts might wander at 
 will, away up to the heavens, till they 
 were lost in the infinite, or swallowed up 
 in the mists of the distant horizon. A 
 rough winding pathway led down from the 
 cliffs to the sea- shore. The Manor House,
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 77 
 
 with its tall chimneys just visihle through 
 the wilderness of green, lay about half a 
 mile ahead of where he stood. 
 
 Hugh persuaded himself that he was sur- 
 prised to find himself so near the home of 
 the divinity that filled his thoughts. He 
 glanced round for a moment as though in 
 doubt as to which road to take ; he did not 
 believe he had intentionally wandered in 
 that direction, of course not ; it was mere 
 chance — if there is such a thing as chance 
 — which many wise folk learn to doubt ; 
 then he consulted Crib upon the subject. 
 
 *^ Well, Crib, old fellow, which way shall 
 we go, eh ? Come, you shall decide by a 
 wag of your tail." But Crib's tail wagged 
 so frantically, and he commenced such a 
 series of leaps and excited barks, that you 
 could make no sense out of him at all. 
 Failing to make himself understood by this 
 proceeding, he stood still for a moment.
 
 78 JN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 regarding things with a meditative air ; 
 then, with ears erect and straightened tail, 
 darted down the chff path. 
 
 *' So that is the way, is it, old fellow ? 
 Well you're as good a guide as blind old 
 Fate anyway," said Hugh to himself as he 
 slowly sauntered after the dog. His eye 
 wandered listlessly over the wide expanse 
 of living waters ; the curling waves ran 
 joyously along the edge of the land, their 
 white foam lips kissing the shore, with low 
 musical murmuring as though they loved 
 it. Oh ! the cruel, treacherous sea ! so 
 wooing, calm, and fair it seems ! yet in a 
 few short hours those tiny wavelets may 
 swell and merge into thundering billows 
 rising mountains high, hugging the big ship 
 to death in their strong embrace, or crush- 
 ing it like an egg-shell on the rock-bound 
 shore ! But now all things of earth, air, or 
 ocean seemed lulled to rest in this heavenly
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 79 
 
 calm. It was impossible for '' thoughts to 
 fret or fears to frown " in such an atmosphere 
 of perfect peace. 
 
 Hugh's spirit was in unison with the scene 
 round him ; his thoughts took to themselves 
 wings, and wandered away into dreamland 
 or revelled in the world of unwritten poetry 
 and romance, with the memory of that one 
 fair face as his sole companionship, for in that 
 one brief meeting it had taken possession 
 of all his senses ! It was the first woman's 
 face he had cared to remember. Up to the 
 present time no woman's beauty had made 
 more than a passing impression upon him, 
 they had been reflected on his mind as on 
 the surface of a looking glass, and had left 
 not even a shadowy memory behind ! Not 
 that he was difficult to please, or indifi'erent 
 to the charms of womankind; on the con- 
 trary, he was very fond of woman's society, 
 and liked to see bright eyes and laughing
 
 80 7^" SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 faces, and to hear the chatter of femimne 
 voices round him, and there it ended. 
 
 , He was accustomed to the society of 
 pretty women ; they were among the associ- 
 ations of his daily life. If there had been 
 only one or two he might have fallen a 
 victim long ago, but there were so many of 
 them, one effaced the impression of the 
 other before it had time to fix itself on his 
 mind or even on his fancy. Most men suffer 
 from slight attacks of the tender passion be- 
 fore their beards have had time to grow, but 
 they get through them, as they get through 
 the infantine diseases, hooping-cough, or 
 measles, but the one grand passion seizes 
 even them at last, and holds them fast ! But 
 when a man, who has not frittered away his 
 energies, nor weakened his feelings by the 
 frequent exercise of petty emotions, is once 
 caught in the grip of a strong passion, he 
 succumbs ! The strongest has no power to
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 81 
 
 struggle against it. It was something in 
 
 this way with Hugh Spencer, but as yet he 
 
 felt none of the pain, only the glory and 
 
 sweetness of love's first message. Hitherto 
 
 his days and years had passed in a round of 
 
 pleasurable excitements, varied with a little 
 
 serious study and learning sandwiched in 
 
 between, a pleasant prelude to the drama of 
 
 life that was to come. Now the curtain 
 
 lifted, and the first act of his emotional life 
 
 had begun. Whether it would hold the stage 
 
 through the whole five acts, and play it out 
 
 as a comedy or tragedy — who could tell ? 
 
 Perhaps it would be neither, for in few lives 
 
 do the real elements of tragedy commingle ; 
 
 and as for the comedy, there generally runs 
 
 through it an accompaniment of tears ; for 
 
 the most part we struggle through a rather 
 
 prosaic commonplace existence, varied by a 
 
 combination of petty cares and troubles, 
 
 lightened here and there by flashes of senti- 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 82 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 ment or of passion that flames, flickers, and 
 dies out. 
 
 Well, Hugh strolled on, feeling strangely 
 excited and happy, for which happiness and 
 excitement there seemed to be no special 
 cause. His *' bosom's lord sat lightly on his 
 throne " on this calm, glorious morning; he 
 felt it was a glorious thing to live ; merely 
 to live and breathe, with the dimpling waves 
 laughing at his feet and the grand old sun 
 shining in his eyes ; he could have flung up 
 his arms and shouted aloud in the exuber- 
 ance of his spirits ; but he didn't ; he strolled 
 on whistling softly to himself, now and then 
 stooping to pick up a pebble and fling it into 
 the sea, or to hold a characteristic colloquy 
 with Crib. Presently that intelligent beast 
 stood still, and, with his ragged ears erect 
 and straightened tail, was evidently prepar- 
 ing to go on the war path. 
 
 ''What's the matter. Crib — eh? what is
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 83 
 
 it, old man ? " exclaimed Hugh, glancing 
 round and seeing nothing : then Crib showed 
 his teeth and began to move slowly forward. 
 Hugh's eyes followed in the direction he 
 was going, and his heart seemed to stand 
 still — for close by, nay, within a stone's throw 
 from where he stood, he beheld the dignified 
 Bouncer silently seated on his haunches, 
 with a sagacious, watchful look upon his face; 
 he was evidently ^' on guard," for, rising from 
 among the low-lying rocks was an outspread 
 dainty parasol, evidently overshadowing 
 somebody ! Hugh flung down his gun, 
 uttered a few emphatic words to Crib, who 
 quite understood that he was left in charge 
 of that instrument of destruction, and must 
 therefore give up his own warlike desires ; so 
 lying down he stretched his paws over it, 
 and watched his master, who slowly, very 
 slowly, approached the point of attraction, 
 till Bouncer, in a quiet, gentlemanly fashion,
 
 84 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 quite different from the way of common 
 dogs, warned him to come no nearer ; hut 
 he was near enough to see a fair young face 
 in a state of calm repose, for it was indeed 
 Clarice Lemaire ! She had evidently been 
 wandering about till she had grown tired, 
 and sitting down to rest had fallen asleep in 
 that lonely, out-of-the-way spot, with her 
 faithful four-footed body-guard beside her. 
 She had stuck the handle of her parasol in 
 the beach so as to form a shade from the 
 great glare of the sun ; her hat lay beside 
 her, and her cheek rested on her hand as 
 with half-parted lips and closed eyes she 
 slept the sleep of innocence and peace. A 
 crimson glow overspread the young man's 
 face ! He had a kind of guilty feeling, as 
 though he was taking a mean advantage in 
 gazing at her in her unconscious pose of 
 beauty : but he could not tear himself away, 
 and stood breathless and lost in the contem-
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 85 
 
 platioii of her. However, he was speedily 
 aroused by the sound of footsteps crashing 
 along the pebbly beach, and in another 
 moment Mr. Fleming appeared from round 
 the jutting corner of the rugged cliffs, his 
 white hair streaming in the breeze, a 
 puggeree tied round his wide-brimmed felt 
 hat, and his hands filled with spoils from 
 the sea and shore ; in one he held a wicker 
 basket with masses of seaweed and a cling- 
 ing colony of tiny (some almost invisible) 
 specimens of ocean life, and a heterogeneous 
 gathering of bits of rock and stone, all 
 valuable in his eyes ; in the other he 
 carefully carried a green bottle containing 
 some delicate sea anemones and some other 
 quaint inhabitants of the watery world. 
 He looked hot and tired, as though he had 
 been wandering long and far, for he came 
 very slowly, picking his way over the stony 
 beach, Hugh inwardly rejoicing in this
 
 86 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 chance meeting, which gave him an oppor- 
 tunity of making the acquaintance of the 
 head of the family in a pleasant, informal 
 fashion. He went forward a few steps, 
 made some trifling remark, and introduced 
 himself. The old gentleman responded 
 with equal cordiality. 
 
 ** Ah ! I remember," he said, '' we saw 
 you in church yesterday ; we new-comers 
 naturally speculate about our neighbours, 
 and my daughter thought you must be the 
 Eector's son." 
 
 The idea that she had thought of him at 
 all was a delight to Hugh ; that she had 
 spoken of him thrilled him with joy ! 
 
 ** My mother and sister," he observed, 
 '' talked of paying a visit to the Manor 
 House this afternoon ; for my part I hate 
 morning calls, and congratulate myself on 
 this opportunity of making your acquaint- 
 ance."
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 87 
 
 Mr. Fleming responded, adding : " I fancy 
 there is very little of that kind of visiting 
 in this scattered neighbourhood, where the 
 residents are so few and far between." 
 
 ''I don't know about that," said Hugh ; 
 ^* it seems to me that the fewer the people, 
 the more disposed they are for general 
 sociability ; why, bless you, they think 
 nothing of asking you to drive a dozen 
 miles to a dinner party ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Mr. Fleming, laughing 
 softly to himself, ^^ but it would be a long 
 time before I undertook such a journey ; 
 there, I can shake hands with you now," he 
 added, relieving himself of his burthens and 
 sitting down on a low-lying rock near by 
 where Clarice was reclining ; and they 
 drifted into a pleasant chat, talking of such 
 local subjects as were likely to interest a 
 new-comer. Meanwhile Bouncer wagged 
 his tail in gentle recognition of their
 
 88 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 presence, but made no attempt to relin- 
 quish his watch over his sleeping mistress. 
 Crib, evidently dissatisfied with the state of 
 affairs, wanted to be relieved from his posi- 
 tion of trust, and tried to attract his 
 master's attention in the most eloquent 
 dog-fashion that he knew, but it was all to 
 no purpose, and he was too good a dog to 
 leave his post without permission. 
 
 Presently Clarice opened wide her great 
 blue eyes, and slowly rose from her recum- 
 bent position, for a moment dazzled by the 
 great glare of the sun. 
 
 *' My poor little girl was quite overcome 
 with the heat," exclaimed Mr. Fleming, 
 regarding her with loving eyes. '' You're 
 better now, dear child ! " 
 
 ^^ Yes," she answered, dreamily, as she 
 looked slowly from one to the other, but 
 seemed in no way surprised to see her 
 father so companioned, '' I — I thinli I have 
 been asleep."
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 89 
 
 ^' No doubt at all about that," he answered, 
 '' and I found this gentleman, Mr. Hugh 
 Spencer, the Rector's son, my dear," he 
 added, performing the brief ceremony of in- 
 troduction, ^' had joined Bouncer in keeping 
 guard over you." She blushed now, her 
 brows slightly contracted, and a vexed look 
 clouded her eyes. 
 
 /^ Hardly that," Hugh hastened to reply, 
 '^ I was merely sauntering along the beach 
 when your dog attracted my attention, and 
 — how could I help stealing a glance at "iiis 
 mistress ? " She answered nothing, but 
 patted Bouncer's big head. Hugh took 
 possession of the basket of seaweed, and 
 they commenced strolling along the beach, 
 when a prolonged howl from the desperate 
 Crib made his master turn back. Poor 
 Crib had tried to follow the party, dragging 
 the gun along wdth him, but the awkward 
 encumbrance was too much for him ; he
 
 1)0 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 would not leave it, as a dog of meaner 
 character would have done, so made that 
 piteous appeal for help. 
 
 Hugh hastened to his relief, once more 
 flung his gun over his shoulder, and with a 
 few emphatic words put Crib on his good 
 behaviour respecting Bouncer, and then 
 resumed his way, keeping, however, an 
 anxious, watchful eye upon his four-footed 
 follower, not feeling quite sure that Crib's 
 placable aspect was genuine, and he did not 
 want the harmony of this pleasant meeting 
 to be turned to discord by any canine agita- 
 tion. Clarice could not help noticing his 
 constantly recurring backward glance, and 
 observed: 
 
 ^'Why are you so anxious about your 
 dog ? are you afraid of losing him ? " 
 
 ^' No ; but he is of rather an aggressive 
 nature, and " 
 
 " Oh ! you needn't be afraid," she rejoined
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 91 
 
 quickly, ^* Bouncer wouldn't think of fighting 
 with a — little dog like that/' 
 
 *^ A cur like that you mean to say, don't 
 you ? " he said, noticing her hesitation, 
 
 *^ Well, yes, he is a cur, isn't he ? " she 
 asked, innocently. 
 
 " Bather,'* answered Hugh, ^^ I'm afraid 
 poor old Crib hasn't much to boast of in 
 the way of canine blue blood and breeding, 
 but he is the dearest, faithfallest old fellow 
 in the world," 
 
 Clarice smiled sympathetically at this 
 tribute to his canine friend, and, glancing 
 with a shy, sweet smile in his face, said : 
 
 " I like people who are fond of animals ; 
 I'm so fond of them myself ; they are intelli- 
 gent, too, as well as faithful, I'd rather 
 take Bouncer's opinion of a human being 
 than anybody else's." 
 
 Hugh felt an insane desire to propitiate 
 Bouncer on the spot, and speculated how
 
 92 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 he could best win the good opinion of this 
 important beast. With his thoughts full of 
 Clarice, exulting in his good luck, and so 
 intoxicated with the delight of her presence 
 that he felt as though the laws of gravita- 
 tion had suddenly changed, and he was 
 walking on air — still he managed to talk 
 like a rational being, addressing himself 
 chiefly to Mr. Fleming, and in a very short 
 time succeeded in mounting him upon his 
 favourite hobby, the wonders and beauties 
 of nature. 
 
 ''Ah!" exclaimed Hugh, ''directly I 
 saw you coming along with your treasures 
 there, I thought you w^ent in for that sort 
 of thing ; which do you go in for most — 
 botany, geology, or " 
 
 " Oh ! I'm only a bit of a naturalist," 
 replied Mr. Fleming, "I 'go in,' as you 
 tersely put it, a little for everything; one 
 must learn the alphabet of nature before he
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 93 
 
 can read her works. I only regret that we 
 have time to learn so little, scarce time 
 indeed to recognize our own ignorance, 
 when we are called away." 
 
 ^' But we carry our knowledge with us, 
 father dear ; you have always taught me 
 that," said Clarice. 
 
 ^' I hope — I believe so," he answered, as 
 though not quite sure of the fact ; ^' all that 
 is crude, that is unfathomable here will 
 there be perfected and be made plain." 
 
 "It would be very disheartening," re- 
 joined Clarice, '' to think that all we have 
 struggled to learn and know is to be left 
 behind with our dust and ashes." 
 
 '^We leave our practical knowledge, all 
 that can be transferred to others, to those 
 whom we leave behind ; they begin where 
 we leave off; and so the great invisible 
 superstructure of knowledge rises, and will 
 rise till the universal collapse of nature.
 
 94 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 when the old world gives place to a new ; 
 and I believe he is the happiest who con- 
 tributes most to the great work of human 
 progress." 
 
 ^^Ah!" exclaimed Hugh, trying to look 
 wise, as though he quite understood and 
 appreciated the old man's views, "I dare 
 say it is all very right, but at present I 
 have done very little of that sort of work, 
 and you know I don't think the wisest man 
 is the happiest by a long chalk ; people run 
 after wisdom when they can't enjoy any- 
 thing else." 
 
 ^'Is that your opinion? " said Mr. Fleming, 
 elevating his brows and regarding the young 
 man rather curiously: '^ surely the mere fact 
 of contributing to the good of our fellow- 
 creatures must be a source of happiness ! " 
 
 *'But the contributions are not always 
 appreciated," rejoined Hugh; ''people are 
 apt to pelt their benefactors with stones
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 95 
 
 and garbage, metaphorically if not actually. 
 Now, I think a man who has good health, 
 a good digestion, a wholesome appetite, 
 strength to pull an oar, courage to face a 
 mad bull, and — and the power to appreciate 
 a beautiful woman, when he sees one, has 
 about as much happiness as is good for 
 him." 
 
 " Perhaps all he is capable of enjoying," 
 said the girl, gravely. 
 
 ^'And perhaps," added Hugh, ^' when I 
 have been tried in many fires, and dragged 
 through bitter waters, I may be able to 
 enjoy something better; at present I am 
 tolerably content with things as they 
 are." 
 
 He looked as though he ought to be con- 
 tent, striding along in the full flush of life 
 and flower of manhood, with the rosy dawn 
 of a new love stirring his spirit with a 
 sense of strange, mysterious joy.
 
 9G IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 "I know what you mean," rejoined 
 Clarice : '' you think it is better to keep at 
 the mountain foot, gathering and enjoying 
 such things as fall in your way, than to 
 climb the rugged mountain side, toiling and 
 struggling for the Edelweiss ; well, perhaps 
 that is best for oneself, but how about 
 other people? " 
 
 ''Why, you see," exclaimed Hugh, logi- 
 cally, " if every man did the best for him- 
 self, he would not need the best of his neigh- 
 bour ; if no man allowed himself to be 
 naked or hungry, he wouldn't need another 
 to feed and clothe him, don't you see ? " 
 
 " How happy you must be to walk in such 
 contented lines ! " said Clarice, looking at 
 him with that kind of admiration which a 
 strong, stalwart man is sure to win from 
 frail and dainty womankind. 
 
 " Why, you don't mean to say that you're 
 given to that kind af metaphorical climbing
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 97 
 
 at your age ! It's too bad, almost criminal, 
 to allow it." 
 
 "Sometimes I try," she answered, amused 
 at his vehemence, " but it is not much use, 
 I am always falling back ; I'm afraid I'm 
 not much like other people," with a soft 
 little fluttering sigh. 
 
 "No," said Hugh, regarding her with a 
 wealth of love light in his eyes-; " I don't 
 think you are." 
 
 "Why? why not ? Do you notice any- 
 thing particular about me?" She spoke 
 with an unaccountable and ill-disguised 
 agitation, and watched his face eagerly for 
 his answer, 
 
 "You would be angry," he answered, 
 softly, "if I were to tell you how and why 
 I think you are different from any other 
 woman I have seen." 
 
 They had left the beach by this time, 
 turned their backs upon the sea, and were 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 98 IN SIGHT OF LAND, 
 
 now winding their way upwards through a 
 stragghng, wooded path, rich in the fragrance 
 of wild spring-flowers. As Hugh finished 
 speaking, his voice unconsciously lowered 
 almost to a whisper, Mr. Fleming turned 
 round and said : 
 
 *'We are now close at home — see, the 
 Manor House, as I dare say you know, lies 
 just behind that clump of trees. You are a 
 long way from Penally, Mr. Spencer, and, 
 as you have accompanied us so far, you 
 might as well give us the pleasure of your 
 company at luncheon." 
 
 Hugh was nothing loth to accept the in- 
 vitation, especially as he fancied Clarice 
 .smiled approvingly when it was given; so 
 the trio progressed upward and onward 
 through the sweet-scented woods, now and 
 then scrambling through the briars and 
 .brambles that crowded their path; some- 
 times the holly thrust its stiff, prickly arms
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 99 
 
 in their way ; the men, in their strong gar- 
 ments, struggled through well enough, but 
 Clarice was occasionally caught in the 
 prickly toils, and Hugh had the bliss of ex- 
 tricating her ; now it was her dress, then her 
 parasol, or a fluttering ribbon. She laughed 
 and apologized for the trouble she gave him, 
 for sometimes he actually had to go down 
 on his knees, and even then, with all his 
 care, could not help an ugly rent or two. 
 
 ^* This is the first time we have taken Jhis 
 short cut," she said, ^* and I don't think we 
 shall take it again, for it is beset with 
 difficulties." 
 
 ''Delightful difficulties!" exclaimed the 
 ardently animated Hugh. '' I wouldn't 
 have the road smoother if I could." 
 
 '' Short cuts in the road," said Mr. 
 Fleming, '' are like short cuts to fortune or 
 to fame, generally more or less tangled, and 
 seldom satisfactory in the end."
 
 100 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 They soon reached the old grey Manor 
 House, enclosed by the low stone wall and 
 surrounded by its wilderness of a garden. 
 As they passed into the domain, Mr. 
 Fleming apologized for the disorder of the 
 grounds, saying : 
 
 '* We have not had time to get things in 
 order yet. The place has been so long de- 
 serted and neglected, it will be some time 
 before we can get the ground cleared and 
 the garden arranged as it should be : beau- 
 tiful flowers, like other beautiful things, 
 must have time to grow." 
 
 ^'I like it best as it is," exclaimed Clarice; 
 *' a really artistically laid- out garden gives 
 me no pleasure at all. I like to see fruits 
 and flowers, shrubs, sweet herbs, and ever- 
 greens growing all together. I mean to 
 have a garden of wild flowers, and manag 
 it all myself." 
 
 *'Aye, aye," said Mr. Fleming, ^'that is
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 101 
 
 all very well to talk about, we shall have 
 you going in for cultivating Marechal Niel 
 roses before we've done." 
 
 ** A fig for Marechal Niels! " she answered; 
 ^^a wild white rose or a spray of honeysuckle 
 is far lovelier in my eyes." 
 
 ^* Or perhaps a gooseberry bush or red 
 currant tree," suggested Hugh, laughing. 
 
 ** A red currant tree, clothed with its rich, 
 transparent fruit, is a very beautiful object," 
 said Clarice, ''only it is cheap and useful, 
 and grows in the poorest labourer's garden — 
 that's why people think nothing of it. If it 
 was grown under glass and needed nursing 
 like a sick baby, all the world would rave 
 about it." 
 
 *' Here we are at home," exclaimed Mr. 
 Fleming, as they crossed the threshold, once 
 more shaking hands with Hugh. *' Welcome 
 to the Manor House, though I dare say you 
 are no stranger, and could guide me over
 
 102 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 tlie place perhaps better than I can guide 
 you." 
 
 '' No," answered Hugh ; '' we have rarely 
 visited at the Manor House — it has always 
 been difficult to find a tenant for it. You 
 see it is so lonely, so far from everything." 
 
 '^ That's exactly why we like it, father, 
 and I," said Clarice, nestling fondly to the 
 old man's side. 
 
 '^But your brother may find it dull," 
 suggested the artful Hugh. 
 
 ''My brother! Oh! Cousin Jack, you 
 mean," rejoined Clarice; ''but he comes 
 and goes as he likes — he seldom stays 
 long." 
 
 Bouncer, with erect head, marched 
 solemnly into the house after them, as 
 though it was his unquestioned right to do 
 so, while Crib, poor, ragged, disreputable 
 Crib, was relegated to the stable ! This 
 was almost more than canine nature could
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 103 
 
 stand, but obedience was a law, and with a 
 depressed, vicious look in his eyes, and limp, 
 drooping tail. Crib dragged himself after the 
 goodnatured groom, who snapped his fingers, 
 whistled, and tried to make Crib lively and 
 frisky as a dog should be ; but his low, 
 guttural accent sounded like an irritating 
 insult to Crib, who bared his teeth, pre- 
 pared for war, and chased the well-inten- 
 tioned groom from the spot. 
 
 Now, in Bouncer's opinion it was all very 
 well for Hugh Spencer to join their party 
 in the open air, but to be received in the 
 house as a guest was quite another affair, 
 and he at once showed signs of anxiety, if 
 not suspicion. He marched up to Hugh in 
 a grand, imperial way, pricked up his ears, 
 and slowly inspected him from all points, 
 sniffing round him till he was satisfied, and 
 finally signified his approval by laying his 
 huge head on Hugh's knees, and fixed his
 
 im IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 soft brown eyes upon him as much as to say, 
 "I thmk you're all right — I hope you're not 
 deceiving us." 
 
 ^' Bouncer, luncheon!" exclaimed Clarice. 
 
 Upon which he marched out of the room, 
 stationed himself at a certain point in the 
 hall, and with his tail beat the Chinese 
 gong, informing the household of the fact 
 that ^* luncheon was served." 
 
 *^ Eeady, Bouncer!" then said Clarice. 
 As she spoke the huge beast raised himself 
 on his hind legs, laid one paw on his 
 mistress's arm and thus escorted her into 
 the dining-room. 
 
 "Isn't he a clever beast ? " she exclaimed, 
 regarding him proudly as, having performed 
 his duties, he stationed himself beside her 
 for his reward. 
 
 The table was laid for four, but only the 
 trio sat down. Seeing Hugh glance at the 
 vacant chair, Clarice smiled.
 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. 105 
 
 *' That's Cousin Jack's place, we never 
 wait for him, and he is never punctual." 
 
 The social meal had not progressed very 
 far, and the stream of conversation was 
 flowing in a pleasant, easy fashion, when 
 ^^ Cousin Jack " entered the room. He was 
 a man older than Hugh Spencer by some 
 years, taller, and of stouter build, with a 
 dark, handsome face, and large, luminous 
 eyes ; his curly beard and moustache veiled 
 a mouth that was somewhat stern until it 
 smiled ; he looked rather worn and haggard, 
 as though he had seen the world and knew 
 all about it, and had threaded many mazy 
 mysteries in the house of life, while light- 
 hearted, blue-eyed Hugh stood only on the 
 threshold. 
 
 ^^ My nephew, Mr. Swayne," said the 
 host, presenting him to his guest. Thus it 
 happened that when Mrs. and Miss Spencer 
 made their formal visit to the Manor House,
 
 lOr, IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 to their amazement they found Hugh strol- 
 ling about the garden smoking a cigarette 
 with Jack Swayne, and evidently on the 
 friendliest terms with the family.
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 A FISHING EXCUKSION. 
 
 Tl /TES. and Miss Spencer paid quite a long 
 -'-'J- visit to the Manor House, but in 
 spite of their mutual manoeuvring — and 
 Miriam was quite as much an adept at that 
 as her mother — they could not guide the con- 
 versation according to their desires. They 
 had sallied forth with their keen instincts 
 prepared for " smelling a rat," and having 
 it out of its hole, tail and all ; but somehow 
 they lost the scent. They knew it was 
 lurking somewhere, they felt it in the at- 
 mosphere ; but not a shadow, not a ghost 
 of it appeared in sight.
 
 108 : IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 Led by their great captain, curiosity, they 
 skirmished about the debatable land, attack- 
 ing the enemy on all sides, with such 
 weapons as common decency permitted ; 
 but their attacks were parried always with 
 such perfect good breeding, that their poor 
 little arrows fell away blunted from contact 
 with the poHshed surface. They were 
 always answered, but never satisfied. Both 
 mother and daughter pitched upon Clarice 
 as the one of the family most likely to 
 gratify their curiosity, if they could only 
 find themselves alone with her ; but it was 
 impossible to put her under the fire of 
 examination, or cross-examination, in the 
 presence of the whole party. So they 
 changed their tactics, and used their moral 
 picklock in another part of the mental 
 machinery, but in a very innocent, natural 
 sort of way. Mrs. Spencer put Mr. Fleming 
 in such a position that he could not avoid
 
 A FISHING EXCUBSION. 109 
 
 volunteering to show his study, his geolo- 
 gical and entomological specimens ; and 
 Miriam was seized with a violent desire to 
 inspect the grounds — so she and Clarice 
 sauntered forth accordingly. Miriam gave 
 Clarice's hand a little, tender, schoolgirl 
 squeeze as she said : 
 
 ^' We were so glad to hear that the Manor 
 House was let at last. We began to despair 
 of ever having any neighbours here." 
 
 '^ Did you ? " said Clarice, seeing she was 
 expected to say something, and not knowing 
 what else to say. 
 
 ^'You see people don't generally care to 
 live in such an out-of-the-way place," added 
 Miriam. 
 
 *'We like it for that very reason," said 
 Clarice. 
 
 *' Oh ! I dare say you will find it all very 
 well for a time," rejoined Miriam, '^just 
 while the novelty lasts ; and we shall do all 
 we can to make it pleasant for you."
 
 110 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 *'You are very kind," answered Clarice; 
 ^' but I hope you will not trouble yourselves 
 too much about us. We are always very 
 happy together, father and I." 
 
 ^^ When we saw you in church yesterday, 
 we all took such a fancy to you. I knew 
 we should get good friends, and soon know 
 all about one another." 
 
 << Why should we care to know all about 
 one another ? " said Clarice. ^' I know some 
 people who have grown to be very dear 
 friends, yet they know nothing of each other 
 except their names, and they would not 
 think it delicate to inquire." 
 
 ^^Oh! that's all nonsense!" exclaimed 
 Miriam. ^' Of course we like to know some- 
 thing of people before we open our hearts to 
 them." 
 
 ''Why should you want to open your 
 hearts ? " said Clarice, turning on her a 
 look of surprise. ^' I don't see the necessity ;
 
 A FISHING EXCURSION. Ill 
 
 but," she added with a soft laugh, *' you 
 talk of opening hearts as though it were a 
 mechanical process like opening oysters." 
 
 Miriam laughed too, and began to talk of 
 sentiments and sympathies, in a way tha-t 
 seemed rather romantic and rather unintel- 
 ligible to Clarice ; and then proceeded to 
 tell her scraps of gossip about the neigh- 
 bourhood, and finally sailed on to the ocean 
 of her own life, told her all there was to tell, 
 and invented a little more, importing a little 
 masculine element into it, and using it as a 
 kind of bait to fling into the clear crystal of 
 Clarice's mind and fish up any scrap of 
 mystery that might laj^ therein concealed. 
 Surely her frank open-heartedness must 
 penetrate the reserve of her companion, and 
 force her to speak a little of her own sur- 
 roundings ; but her confidential murmurings 
 had quite a contrary effect. Clarice listened 
 indifferently to Miriam's sentimental chatter.
 
 112 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 How could she feel interested in the gossip 
 of a strange neighbourhood, or the tender 
 trivialities which made up the sum of 
 Miriam's life ? All this was nothing to her. 
 She only felt a vague w^onder that people 
 could talk to her of such things in the very- 
 first hour of their meeting. She made no 
 remark, asked no questions, and therefore 
 gave no help to Miriam's confidential com- 
 munications. However, she got to the end 
 of them, and, giving Clarice another tender 
 little squeeze, she said : 
 
 ^^ Now you know everything about me. 
 Let us start fair, and tell me everything 
 about yourself! " 
 
 Now Clarice was prepared to be agreeable 
 to her new acquaintance, but it was simply 
 impossible for one of her refined, reticent 
 nature to follow Miriam's example and give 
 a biographical account of herself and her 
 surroundings to one who a few short hours
 
 A FISHING EXCURSION 113 
 
 ago was a stranger. She hardly knew how 
 to answer Miriam's gushing appeal, and 
 after a rather awkward momentary pause — 
 
 ^^I should be very happy," she said, *^to 
 tell you anything that I thought would in- 
 terest you, but really I have nothing par- 
 ticular to tell." 
 
 '* What, not about that handsome cousin 
 of yours ! " exclaimed Miriam, with arch 
 facetiousness ; *^ and how very handsome he 
 is!" 
 
 "Is he ? " observed Clarice, listlessly. 
 
 " Of course he is ; don't you think so ? " 
 
 '' I don't know. I have never thought 
 about his looks at all." 
 
 " I suppose you are too fond of him to 
 care whether he is handsome or not," said 
 Miriam, tentatively. 
 
 " I suppose so," answered Clarice. *' You 
 see we have been used to one another all 
 our lives." 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 114 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 There was no blushing or simpering con- 
 sciousness in Clarice's manner ; she spoke 
 with perfectly simple unreserve. *^ You are 
 either very stupid or very sly," thought 
 Miriam, regarding her suspiciously in respect 
 to that '^ handsome cousin." 
 
 *' And you have no chaperon, no female 
 relative at all? " said Miriam, inquisitively. 
 
 ^' Chaperon ! no," exclaimed Clarice, im- 
 patiently. ' ' What could I want with a 
 chaperon? " 
 
 ^^ It seems so strange for a girl like you 
 to be living with only a — male cousin and 
 step-father," said Miriam. 
 
 '' Step-father! " echoed Clarice, looking for 
 a moment puzzled. ^^ Ah ! I forgot that he 
 is only my step-father," she added with a 
 glowing face, '^ for he is all the world to me 
 —he's father and mother and all." 
 
 '^You are not in mourning," observed 
 Miriam, hesitatingly. ^^ Is it — is it very 
 long since you lost your mother ? "
 
 A 1^1 SHIN G EXCURSION. 115. 
 
 **Yes, some years," answered Clarices- 
 speaking slowly, as though the words were 
 drawn from her with a pair of moral pincers.. 
 
 Miriam pressed her hand and walked on 
 in sympathetic silence for a moment, then 
 said softly : 
 
 *' It must be a terrible thing to lose one's 
 mother, and especially sad to be left with 
 only male relations. We girls want the 
 companionship and sympathy of our own 
 sex. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 '' I hardly know," said Clarice ; " for nly- 
 self, I only care for the sympathy and com- 
 panionship of those I love. Strangers tire 
 me so." 
 
 '^ How differently I feel about that !" ex- 
 claimed Miriam. " I love strangers. The 
 very sight of a strange face is delightful. It 
 sets one wondering, and brings a little ex- 
 citement into one's life. You see in a quiet 
 place like this one soon knows everybody,
 
 116 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 and everything about everybody ; but I 
 suppose you have never settled down in a 
 place like this before ? " 
 
 ** Oh, yes ! " replied Clarice. *^ We lived 
 for some years in the wildest part of Austria, 
 quite among the mountains. Since then we 
 have travelled a great deal." 
 
 ^* In England ? " 
 
 *^ Oh ! everywhere," said Clarice. *'We 
 have been to Australia. I was ordered to 
 take the voyage for my health. The doctors 
 said a long voyage would do me good, for 
 my health was quite broken down ; " and as 
 she spoke she looked dreamily over the sea. 
 
 ^' Some sudden shock, I suppose ! " ex- 
 claimed Miriam eagerly, thinking she had 
 found a clue to something at last. 
 
 ** Why should you suppose any such 
 thing ? " exclaimed Clarice ; the dreamy 
 light left her eyes as she glanced sharply at 
 Miriam's face.
 
 A FISHING EXCUBSION. 117 
 
 *' Oh ! I beg your pardon, but I thought 
 that perhaps your mother had met with 
 some " 
 
 *' What does it matter ? " interrupted 
 Clarice quickly, "■ and please don't talk of 
 mamma at all — I dislike to hear strangers 
 speak of her." 
 
 For once Miriam was nonplussed, and 
 before she could gather her forces for a 
 reply, the perfume of a cigar greeted their 
 nostrils, and in another moment the two 
 young men, issuing from a tangled side path 
 of the wilderness, stood before them ; and 
 the quartette strolled on together. Chance 
 arranged for them to their mutual satisfac- 
 tion ; for they soon drifted into pairs, and 
 Clarice found herself Ute-d-Ute with Hugh 
 Spencer, while Miriam was lifted into the 
 seventh heaven by being the sole recipient 
 of Mr. Swayne's attentions for the full space 
 of half an hour, for it was even such a
 
 118 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 length of time that they wandered about the 
 wilderness of a garden and in the orchard, 
 under the full blossoming trees, with the 
 sunlight glinting through, casting fantastic 
 fluttering shadows for their feefc to tread 
 upon. 
 
 Mr. Swayne was not a man to '*make 
 conversation " for ladies generally ; he liked 
 to be amused himself, and was sparsely 
 supplied with that special kind of small talk 
 about nothing which goes to make a '' de- 
 lightful man " in the eyes of commonplace 
 young ladies. He had seen a great deal of 
 the world, and was rather tired of it. He 
 was ready to welcome anything that looked 
 like a novelty, either in human nature or 
 anything else. Miss Spencer was rather a 
 novelty to him ; her small vanities and 
 perfect self-esteem lay upon the surface, 
 those who ran might read them at the first 
 glance ; but the feminine character must be
 
 A FISHING EXCURSION. 110 
 
 made up of other things besides these ; so, 
 having nothing better to do for the time 
 being, ''Cousin Jack" set himself to find 
 out some of the hidden mysteries which 
 made up the human machine beside him. 
 
 She was pleasant enough to look at, tall, 
 fair complexioned, with big blue eyes, that 
 — well, lost some of their dull stupidity now, 
 and brightened into smiles, for it is in reality 
 the eyes that smile the sweetest ; the move- 
 ment of the lips is a mere muscular ac- 
 companiment. How ghastly it is to sSe a 
 smile upon the lips, while the eyes are cold 
 and unsympathetic ! As a rule Miriam's well- 
 shaped eyes expressed nothing — they had 
 nothing to express ; but to-day they seemed 
 to have found something, as she walked 
 beside this tall, handsome stranger ; and 
 now and then as she glanced up in his dark 
 high-bred face, she thought, with a tremulous 
 fluttering at her heart, '* How different he
 
 I'iO IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 is to any other man I have ever seen!" 
 But then she had not seen many other men, 
 her view having been restricted to the man- 
 kind of Penally, who were generally middle- 
 aged, generally married, and could in no 
 way compare with this elegant being, who 
 seemed to bring the atmosphere of Belgravia 
 into this quiet, out-of-the-way Cornish village. 
 He made some remark about the rugged 
 beauty of the Cornish coast; she answered — 
 
 '' Yes, we have some very fine scenery all 
 round Penally, if we have no other attraction; 
 the more you know of the neighbourhood, 
 the better you will like it — and in about a 
 fortnight the Bishop of Truro is coming to 
 preach in our church." 
 
 '' So sorry I shall not be able to benefit 
 by the Bishop's ministrations," said Mr. 
 Swayne, gravely. ''I return to town next 
 week, and may not be down again till 
 autumn."
 
 A FISHING EXCUESION. 121 
 
 This speech, simple as it was, had a double 
 effect on Miriam ; it gratified her in one 
 way, for if there had really been anything, 
 as she had first suspected, between him and 
 his Cousin Clarice, he would not have spoken 
 of going away for months in that unregretful 
 way ; and at the same time she was dis- 
 appointed, for from the first transitory 
 glimpse of him in church yesterday she had 
 looked forward to — well, she could hardly 
 say what ; but so many nameless possibilities 
 floated through her mind, she could not, 
 even to herself, explain them exactly. He 
 would have been such an acquisition to the 
 neighbourhood, and quite a sensation at 
 the lawn tennis parties ! for that was the 
 mildest excitement the Penallyites indulged 
 in ; even the Kectory folk tolerated tea and 
 tennis, not having yet discovered the seeds 
 of depravity therein. 
 
 " It is a pity you are going away so soon,"
 
 122 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 she observed, 'Sve have a lawn tennis 
 party at the Rectory every week in summer 
 time, and I think you would find them 
 pleasant." 
 
 He was sure he should find everything 
 at the Rectory pleasant. 
 
 " But lawn tennis!" he exclaimed, '^you 
 don't mean to say that you play ' lawn 
 tennis ' here? " 
 
 *' Why not?" exclaimed Miriam, bristling 
 up ; '^ do you think we are heathens because 
 we happen to live out of the world ? " 
 
 ^' I don't know that lawn tennis is a lofty 
 mark of Christianity," he replied, gravely ; 
 " my wonder was that in the midst of this 
 magnificent scenery, with this wild, pic- 
 turesque country to ramble about, and all 
 the delicious nooks and corners to explore, 
 you should stoop to such frivolity." 
 
 ''Ah!" said Miriam, mollified. "One 
 likes a change, you know, and when one
 
 A FISHING EXCURSION. 123 
 
 has always been surrounded by magnificent 
 scenery, one doesn't care for it so much." 
 
 ^^ Then there's the sea — the grand, glorious 
 old sea ! You don't mean to say you don't 
 care about that ? " 
 
 ^^ No-o," answered Miriam, ^^ I enjoy 
 bathing, but one can't bathe all the year 
 round, you know." She spoke simply, not 
 at all conscious that she was saying any- 
 thing that could shock a real lover of the 
 ** great sweet mother." 
 
 The shock his mind received did hot 
 reveal itself on the surface, he only said — 
 
 ** Ah, if you want to appreciate the sea 
 you should go on a yachting excursion. I 
 am never so happy as when I am aboard my 
 yacht; I've got a little beauty, and when 
 she gets the wind in her teeth, and tries to 
 fight her way and buffet the waves, she's 
 like a plucky human creature at work ; it's 
 a sight to be proud of, I can tell you ; per-
 
 VU IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 haps I may bring her round here in the 
 autumn, and who knows but I may tempt 
 you and your family party to go for a short 
 cruise in her ! " 
 
 ^' Can she go far ? I mean do you confine 
 your cruise to very short journeys ? " 
 
 ^' She is two hundred tons, and I can sail 
 her across the Atlantic if I please," he 
 answered, proudly. '' When you've once 
 been aboard her, you won't rest content till 
 you have your foot upon her deck again." 
 
 A glow of unmistakable delight suffused 
 Miriam's pale cheeks at the suggestion ; the 
 bare possibility of such a treat would be 
 something to look forward to through the 
 long summer days, for as a rule the months, 
 weeks, and seasons rolled on in a dull, 
 monotonous round. Penally kept the even 
 tenor of its ways, unstirred by the events of 
 the outer world ; even the excitements of a 
 birth, death, or marriage was rare in the
 
 A FISHING EXCURSION. 125 
 
 sparsely populated neighbourhood ; no flash 
 of summer glory lighted the horizon of their 
 grey, colourless lives, no feverish waverings 
 between hopes and fears stirred the current 
 of their blood. They tramped the daily 
 round of duties with unswerving footsteps ; 
 the lovely land and sea was as familiar to 
 them as their own faces, and those who are 
 held always in the warm, beautiful embrace 
 of nature will sometimes be disposed to tear 
 themselves from her sheltering arms, and 
 plunge into the turmoil of troublous life, 
 merely for a change. And how gladly would 
 the toil-worn, weary- worlded men sink into 
 the peaceful paradise of this out-of-the-way 
 Cornish village ! It was all satisfactory 
 enough for the elder part of the community, 
 but the young people had a vague longing 
 for some excitement rising either from within 
 or without, which their familiar surroundings 
 did not supply. ^ .
 
 126 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 In spite of the repressive narrowness of 
 her bringing up, the impulse of young human 
 nature, warm and strong, were hidden away 
 deep down in Miriam Spencer's heart, but 
 they were frozen over by the icy chilness of 
 the social atmosphere. She was told daily 
 that her life was a blessed one, for which she 
 should kneel down night and morning in 
 gratitude to God, and she had tried to 
 believe it ; but now she seemed to have a 
 sudden taste of the sweet savour it needed. 
 A few glances from this man's magnetic 
 eyes, a few pleasantly spoken — by no means 
 important — words from his lips, had stirred 
 her sleeping spirit, and sent a thrill of 
 melody through her hitherto tuneless life. 
 As the stroke of Moses' staff caused a rush 
 of water from the solid rock, so she was 
 ready to pour forth the treasures of her heart 
 at this stranger's touch. 
 
 As they two walked on side by side, she
 
 A FISHING EXCUBSION. 127 
 
 felt as though by some occult process she 
 had been lifted off the earth and trod on 
 air, and he — well, he regarded her with 
 kindly eyes enough ; she was evidently well 
 pleased with his society ; he thought she 
 ** was a nice little thing," and that was all. 
 A nice little thing ! The last epithet any 
 one else would have applied to the stately 
 Miss Spencer. 
 
 Before the visitors departed, that social 
 abomination, four o'clock tea, was served, 
 and after arrangements had been made fo» a 
 future meeting, they parted with cordial 
 hand-shaking all round, and Hugh was 
 compelled reluctantly to escort his female 
 relatives home. 
 
 They were no sooner out of earshot, 
 when, as was quite natural, they com- 
 menced discussing the family. Mrs. 
 Spencer was evidently well satisfied with 
 her visit. She thought Mr. Flaming was
 
 128 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 a delightful old gentleman, quite a man of 
 the world, so very polite too ! He knew 
 how to talk to a lady ; he had been almost 
 confidential with her ; they had talked over 
 certain matters which she did not care to 
 repeat ; she hoped as a Christian she might 
 be trusted. Ah ! yes, and he had taken her 
 into his sanctum, showed her his collection 
 of pickled frogs, centipedes, impaled blue- 
 bottles, butterflies, and other nasty things. 
 There was no harm in it, of course, but in 
 time she hoped to impress him with a 
 stronger sense of his Christian duties ; 
 already he had promised to subscribe to 
 the schools and to give a handsome 
 donation towards the new organ — which 
 showed they had a certain amount of 
 proper feeling. Of course the trail of the 
 serpent was hidden away somewhere, but 
 she hadn't looked for it, and as things 
 looked fair and pleasant on the surface —
 
 A FISHING EXCUBSION. 129 
 
 well, slie was charitable and hoped for the 
 best — at any rate, when they discovered the 
 sin it would be time enough to run a tilt at 
 the sinner. Perhaps she reflected that 
 the running down of gilded sinners would 
 be surrounded with many difficulties, quite 
 different from the poor, half-starved sinners 
 she was accustomed to run to earth. 
 
 Her son and daughter let the current of 
 her talk flow uninterruptedly ; when she 
 was tired, she looked to them for their 
 opinion. If they had been left to them- 
 selves they would rather have walked on, 
 shrouded in silence and the pleasant sun- 
 shine ; they had each their own unuttered 
 secret, and their hearts were beating in 
 tune to the song without words, such as 
 most human hearts have sung at least once 
 in a lifetime ; but they felt bound to 
 exercise their conversational powers to a 
 slight degree. Hugh thought he knew 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 180 IS SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 more of the family than anybody else, and 
 voted ^' Mr. Flemmg a regular trump." 
 
 ** You had fine romantic ideas of Made- 
 moiselle Clarice yesterday," said Miriam; 
 ^* what do you think of her now that you 
 have actually spoken to her ? " 
 
 ^* Just as I thought before," he answered, 
 ^' and rather more so." After which am- 
 biguous speech he commenced whistling, 
 and Miriam boldly plumped out her 
 opinion. 
 
 " Well, she is certainly very nice ; I can 
 quite understand some people thinking her 
 very pretty, too ; but there is something very 
 odd about her, poor thing. I don't mean 
 anything bad, only mysterious — a family 
 mystery, perhaps. I did not get on very 
 well with her." 
 
 ^' You seemed to get on better with that 
 long-legged cousin. ' ' 
 
 ^^He took pains to get on with me," she
 
 A FISHING EXCUBSION. 131 
 
 answered ; " I think he is dehghtful ; there's, 
 something so lordly and grand about him. 
 With what an air he takes off his hat ! and 
 his clothes fit him so beautifully, too !" 
 There's a good deal in clothes — I think an 
 ill-dressed man is a horror — but Mr Swayne 
 — well, there's something distinguished and 
 artistic even in the arrangement of his 
 necktie." 
 
 ** A tailor's model would evidently be the 
 acme of your admiration, my dear," said 
 Hugh, ^*but I am not going to pronounce 
 any opinion till I know him better; at 
 present he seems to me rather a super- 
 cilious sort of prig."
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 
 
 THE Manor House was scarcely cleared 
 from its clerical visitors when another 
 living inundation swept over the household, 
 for the female Laurence family arrived in 
 a body. The family consisted of Mrs. 
 Laurence and her three daughters, all of a 
 very diiferent type to the Rectory folk. 
 They were well-to-do, kindly people, satis- 
 fied with themselves, and generally satisfied 
 with the world around them. They 
 thought it was a very good world to live
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 133 
 
 in, and if people were not happy it was 
 their own fault, they must be either weak 
 or wicked ; if people would only look after 
 their digestion, take plenty of exercise, and 
 keep out of debt, they might make this 
 world a perfect paradise. This was easy 
 enough for them to do, for they had plenty 
 of money ; all the good things of this Hfe 
 lay within their grasp — they were favourites 
 of fortune themselves, and believed that 
 everybody else might stand on the same 
 breezy heights if they gave the right tnrn 
 to the wheel ; if they failed it was their own 
 fault — failure or success came where they 
 were most deserved, and there was an end 
 of it. However, they were kind-hearted, 
 gossipy folk in the main. Mrs. Laurence 
 was a London banker's daughter, had been 
 brought up at a fashionable boarding-school, 
 and lived in London till she married. As 
 was perhaps natural, she gave herself a few
 
 134 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 airs on that account. She was regarded 
 by her neighbours, the Penallyites, as 
 '* quite a superior kind of person;" she 
 knew a httle of everything, from mathe- 
 matics to mince pies, and had made 
 excursions into the land of literature, 
 plunged into the mysteries of spiritualism, 
 and clung to the skirts of occultism with 
 the tenacious vigour of an uncomprehend- 
 ing apostle. 
 
 This happy family was ready to take 
 Clarice to its heart upon the spot ; and, 
 unanimous in their admiration of her 
 beauty, regarding her as a fair, fragile 
 flower, needing only feminine support and 
 feminine companionship to make her per- 
 fect, they considered that a mere masculine 
 household must be uncongenial, if not 
 positively harmful, to so young and delicate 
 a piece of womankind. 
 
 Clarice had been left to receive her
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 135 
 
 visitors alone, for on the first appearance 
 of the advancing party Jack Swayne had 
 leaped out of the window and disappeared 
 into the wilderness, and Mr. Fleming had 
 retreated to his study, considering that he 
 had contributed his quantum towards the 
 entertainment of visitors for one day, and 
 it was not incumbent upon him to reappear 
 upon the scene. The Laurences brought 
 with them a fresh breezy atmosphere ; there 
 was no ^* peeking and harking," no undue 
 inquisitorial pressure brought to bear upon 
 the conversation ; if they were curious — and 
 no doubt they shared the general curiosity— 
 they kept it within bounds, and made no 
 outward expression of it. Their manner 
 was genuine and friendly ; they were evi« 
 dently bent on establishing pleasant relations 
 with the Manor House folk. 
 
 '^ I wish we were nearer neighbours, my 
 dear," said Mrs. Laurence, ^'but I hope we
 
 13G IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 shall contrive to see a good deal of you as 
 it is." 
 
 ^' It is only two miles to Penally," said 
 Caroline, the eldest daughter, ^^ and ours is 
 the first house you come to quite this end 
 of the village." 
 
 ''I can V7alk two miles very well," said 
 Clarice, smiling ; "we went to church 
 yesterday, and I walked both ways. I have 
 been used to a great deal of exercise." 
 
 ''Then we shall get on first-rate," 
 exclaimed Stella, briskly. '' Mamma, per- 
 haps Miss Lemaire will come over and 
 lunch to-morrow, and I will row her home 
 if she likes in the afternoon. When the 
 sea is calm it is quite lovely; you know I 
 keep close to the shore." 
 
 '' Stella always volunteers to row every- 
 body everywhere," laughed her sister. ''If 
 she can only entice people into her boat 
 she's happy."
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 137 
 
 ^' Don't go if you're afraid of a wetting ; 
 she upset Miriam Spencer near the cove 
 the other day." 
 
 "You're never tired of remembering 
 that," said Stella, tartly; "but it was her 
 own fault — she wouldn't sit still. It is 
 always somebody's fault when there's an 
 accident with a boat." 
 
 " I suppose you have not yet made the 
 acquaintance of the Hector's family?" ob- 
 served Mrs. Laurence, interrogatively. 
 
 " Yes, they were here half an hour ag©," 
 answered Clarice. 
 
 " Humph ! " — there was something pecu- 
 liarly expressive in Mrs. Laurence's humph 
 — " well, I don't think you'd get on very well 
 with them ; nobody does. They are too 
 self-righteous to please me; they mean well, 
 but they take hold of everything at the 
 wrong end. Mr. Spencer has a way of 
 talking at people from the pulpit which is
 
 188 IN SIGHT OF LAND, 
 
 very hurtful to sensitive natures. It would 
 be all very well if he confined himself to 
 reproving the poor ; they rather like it, and 
 feel honoured that even their faults should 
 attract public notice ; but he once had the 
 bad taste to attack me ! " 
 
 *^ He laid the lash on very lightly, 
 mamma," rejoined Miss Laurence, '^ and 
 after all it was not really tjou he attacked, 
 so much as the principles of spiritualism." 
 
 *' He knew that I advocated those prin- 
 ciples, and had no right to hold them up to 
 public condemnation," said Mrs. Laurence, 
 adding, *^ but people get so narrow in the 
 country ; they prefer groping along in the 
 old darkness to opening their eyes to a new 
 light. Now, I have lived in the great 
 world, and take larger views. I am 
 always ready to discuss and investigate 
 any new theory or question that may rise 
 up, no matter whether it be political, 
 scientific, or spiritualistic."
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 139 
 
 ^* But you are rather more given to the 
 latter, mamma." 
 
 ** Because I can easily pick up the grains 
 of truth and separate them from the chaff 
 of imagination. Do you go in for that sort 
 of thing, Miss Lemaire ? " 
 
 ^' For what sort of thing ? " inquired the 
 slightly bewildered Clarice. 
 
 ** For the spiritualistic science, for a 
 science it is fast becoming." 
 
 *'I don't know anything about it," 
 answered Clarice. ^ 
 
 *'No? well I am surprised at that," said 
 Mrs. Laurence, ^^for I should say you 
 have very strong mediumistic qualities 
 yourself." 
 
 ^^ Please don't say that ! " said Clarice, 
 shrinking as though she had received a 
 blow ; *' if I thought I had them," she 
 added, laughing rather hysterically, *' I 
 should be inclined to undergo a surgical
 
 140 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 operation and have them cut out with a 
 knife." 
 
 '^ Ah, my dear, if a surgeon's knife could 
 perform operations on the mind as well as 
 on the body I fancy we might all give him 
 some little work to do ; they say we are all 
 mad on one subject or another." 
 
 The girls laughed, and each expatiated 
 on her own particular mania, which was all 
 .harmless enough, and the conversation 
 rippled away from grave subjects and lost 
 itself in a maze of pleasant chit-chat or 
 small talk, which is current in all societies, 
 both great and small, and flows on its 
 sparkling way without scandal or dele- 
 terious gossip, brightening and enlivening 
 the passing hour, and when it dies out 
 leaves the ashes of nobody's reputation be- 
 hind it. 
 
 They parted, each mutually pleased with 
 the other, Clarice promising to spend a long 
 day at the Firs on the earliest opportunity.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 141 
 
 '' Tired, my little girl ? " said Mr. Flem- 
 ing, coming into the room soon after their 
 departure. 
 
 *' Not very," she answered ; " though it is 
 rather alarming, isn't it — seven visitors in 
 one day? These Laurences seem rather 
 nice ; I like them better than the Eectory 
 people — except, perhaps, Mr. Spencer, the 
 young one I mean." 
 
 ^^ I hope you will get up a little pleasant 
 intimacy with your neighbours, my dear 
 Clarice," said Mr. Fleming; ^' I am stFre 
 the companionship of people of your own 
 age will be good for you." 
 
 ^^ No companionship of anybody ever can 
 be so good for me as yours," she answered, 
 clasping her hands round his arm and laying 
 her head caressingly upon his shoulder, 
 ^' darling dad, we are always so happy to- 
 gether, you and I." 
 
 ^' Make it a trio," he added, looking
 
 142 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 scrutinizingly ou her face; "won't you ad- 
 mit Jack into the circle ? ' ' There was a 
 slight knitting of the brows, and a troubled 
 look came into her eyes, but she answered 
 nothing. " Why are you so perverse, my 
 child? You and Jack used to be such 
 friends, and now that it would be well you 
 should be drawn closer together you fling 
 yourselves wider apart." 
 
 " Things are different now," she answered, 
 pettishly ; '' Jack is getting troublesome — 
 and — ah ! — when is he going away ? When 
 shall we two be left alone together ? Jack 
 is like the fifth wheel to a coach ; we don't 
 get along so well as we used to." 
 
 '^ His going or staying depends very much 
 on you, Clarice," he answered, gravely. 
 " You are both very dear to me, and you 
 know which way my wishes run." 
 
 '' I know, I know ! " with signs of some 
 little irritation ; " but they run in the wrong
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 143 
 
 direction, darling dad," she added, coaxingly. 
 ^^If you would only see, if you would only 
 understand, that what you wish can never, 
 never be, things would settle back in the 
 old way, and we should be so much 
 happier." 
 
 ''When the unity of things is once dis- 
 turbed and broken up they never settle 
 back into the old ways — it is against nature 
 that they should." 
 
 ''And it is against my nature that they 
 should grow into a new," said Clarice; "*I 
 wish I could make you sure of that." 
 
 " Is it really so impossible, Clarice ? " 
 
 " Quite," she answered, emphatically. 
 
 The old man sighed. 
 
 " Well, my child," he said, " I should not 
 wish to force your inclination, but you don't 
 quite realize the risk you run. Were things 
 to come to the push, I have no authority, 
 no power, to save you. In Jack's custody,
 
 144 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 with Jdm as your husband and legal pro- 
 tector, you would be safe." 
 
 *' I am safe now," she answered, in a low 
 voice; ^^you have said that you would kill 
 me rather than let me fall into his hands, 
 and I know you would keep your word." 
 
 " Child, you think I should have courage 
 enough for that!" he said, in a tender, 
 melancholy tone. 
 
 '^I Jcnota you would," she answered, like 
 one well assured of a fact. 
 
 *^Well, well," said he, ^^ I pray God no 
 such necessity will ever come ! If you are 
 really decided, I had perhaps better speak 
 to Jack, and put him out of suspense." 
 
 ^^I think not," she answered. ''I will 
 take the first opportunity and speak to him 
 myself." 
 
 '^Best make the opportunity and speak 
 at once ; when a disagreeable thing has got 
 to be done, there is no use in delaying it ;
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 145 
 
 as there is no chance for him there is no use 
 in his lingering here — he had better go away 
 at once," the old man ended, with a sigh. 
 
 Clarice flung her arms round his neck, 
 and her eyes overflowed with tears as she 
 exclaimed, with much emotion : 
 
 '^ Oh, why are you so good, so patient 
 with me ? I wish I had never been born, 
 to bring so much trouble to everybody ! 
 Now poor Jack — whom you love, your own 
 sister's son — is to be exiled from his home, 
 on my account ! Father dear ! " she added, 
 after a few moments' silence, blinking away 
 her tears, ^'for your sake I would marry 
 him if I could ; but I dare not. I am 
 afraid — afraid of myself. I think it would 
 be a crime to marry." 
 
 '' My own child," he answered, fondly 
 laying his hand upon her golden head, '^I 
 speak only for your own good now, and alto- 
 gether without any reference to Jack ; but 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 146 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 I honestly tliiuk, indeed, I am convinced, 
 that if you were once married, once in the 
 safe keeping of a good man's love, all these 
 strange morbid fancies that afflict you 
 would vanish. In the wholesome exercise 
 of your natural affections, in the opening of 
 a new life, new ties, new^ scenes, new associa- 
 tions and surroundings, the clouds which 
 now warp and sadden your beautiful nature 
 would fade away, and leave you to live your 
 life as bright and happy as God made 
 it." 
 
 '' I don't believe God had anything to do 
 with my life," she answered, desperately; 
 *' how could He, when I was born in such a 
 dreadful place?" She shuddered violently 
 as she added, '^ Sometimes I think I shall 
 die in it." 
 
 *' Hush, hush ! " he answered, soothingly, 
 ** you must not give way to such thoughts 
 as these."
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 147 
 
 ^' I don't give way," she answered, ''I 
 have nothing to do with them, they take 
 hold of me — my heart, my brain, my limbs, 
 and weigh me down, and darken the whole 
 world, so that I hardly know whether the 
 sun shines or not — but one can't speak of 
 those things, one can only feel. Perhaps if 
 I could get " 
 
 The last words trailed unconsciously, 
 almost inaudibly, from her lips, her arms 
 relaxed their hold and fell nerveless by her 
 side, and she lay in his arms as unconscidus 
 and white as one dead. He did not seem 
 alarmed at this sudden seizure ; he carried 
 her to the sofa, arranged the cushions for 
 her head, and laid her gently down, and sat 
 beside her, watching, and chafing her hands 
 with a slow, caressing motion. He called 
 for no assistance, he needed none, he knew 
 there was nothing to be done but wait 
 patiently her return to life. The window
 
 148 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 was Open, and the sweet fresh air blew m 
 from the breezy sea, far away in the dim 
 horizon the great red sun was sinking slowly 
 into the ocean, its last level rays striking 
 across the water, touching the bowed grey 
 liead of the man, and resting on the girl's 
 unconscious face like a finger of light. 
 
 Not very long had things remained in 
 this condition when there was a loud ring 
 at the bell, and in another moment a quick 
 step sounded in the hall, and Dr. Parkes 
 was shown into the room. His advent just 
 at that moment was specially annoying and 
 vexatious to Mr. Fleming ; but it could not 
 he helped, and there was no one to blame 
 for it ; that was the usual room for the re- 
 'ception of visitors, and the servants had not 
 'been made aware of their young mistress's 
 y3ondition. This was not the Doctor's first 
 visit to the Manor House, or he would have 
 timed it more decorously; he had made
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 149 
 
 Mr. Fleming's acquaintance some days pre- 
 viously, and being interested in his collection 
 of natural curiosities, had enjoyed a most 
 congenial interview, and on parting had 
 promised to bring some chemicals of which 
 he was in need to carry on a special experi- 
 ment ; being in the neighbourhood, he had 
 brought them at, what seemed to him, a 
 most opportune time. 
 
 His eye rested at once on the prostrate' 
 figure of the girl; a momentary glance of 
 recognition was exchanged between himgelf 
 and Mr. Fleming, as he stepped briskly for- 
 ward, exclaiming, with professional brevity : 
 
 ^^ Can I be of any use ? " 
 
 '* Thanks; I think not," replied Mr. 
 Fleming, extending his unoccupied hand to 
 the Doctor's genial clasp. " She will be 
 better presently ; it is only a little nervous 
 exhaustion — that is all." 
 
 '' All ! humph ! " exclaimed Dr. Parkes ;
 
 150 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 ** poor little girl ! Is she liable to these 
 seizures ? " 
 
 *' No-o — not exactly liable," replied Mr. 
 Fleming, slightly hesitating; ''but she is 
 peculiarly constituted. I have seen her so 
 before. There is really no cause for alarm," 
 he added, rather sharply, as though irritated 
 by the grave expression of the Doctor's face. 
 '' She v^ill be all right presently — indeed, 
 quite herself." 
 
 Dr. Parkes could not help seeing that he 
 was considered rather de trop^ his unex- 
 pected presence slightly embarrassing to 
 Mr. Fleming, and his professional services 
 by no means desired. He scrutinized the 
 white young face with much interest, blended 
 with sincere compassion, he saw at a glance 
 that it was no mere fainting fit — but just 
 such a case as he would dearly like to lay 
 hold on, watch over, and investigate with 
 all his professional ability ; but he could
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 151 
 
 not infringe etiquette so far as to press his 
 services unasked, especially as the investiga- 
 tion of the case might prove rather interest- 
 ing from a pathological point of view than 
 of benefit to the patient. He laid his hand 
 lightly on Mr. Fleming's arm as he said 
 sympathetically : 
 
 ^' My dear sir, you know what pleasure 
 it would give me to be of any service to 
 you, directly or indirectly, professionally or 
 otherwise. At any time," he added, casting 
 a lingering look on the unconscious girl, '' I 
 shall be glad to advise you as a friend — as 
 — as well as a physician." 
 
 " Of that I feel sure, and I thank you," 
 answered Mr. Fleming, *'and if at any time 
 I find the necessity arise, I shall not scruple 
 to avail myself of your kindness. At pre- 
 sent I am quite equal to the occasion." 
 
 " Then perhaps I had better leave you," 
 said Dr. Parkes, hoping he would say
 
 152 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 '* stay ; " but he did not; he said quickly, 
 " Yes, I think perhaps that would be best 
 — when she recovers consciousness she 
 might be alarmed at the presence of a 
 stranger." 
 
 Dr. Parkes accordingly took his leave 
 and went home, and said nothing whatever 
 about his visit. He kept his thoughts and 
 suspicions to himself. He fancied he had 
 caught a glimpse of the ghost of the Manor 
 House, but, like many mental speculators, 
 he took the shadow for the substance, and 
 sent his imagination travelling on the wrong- 
 track altogether. 
 
 He had not been very long gone when 
 Clarice stirred, the colour came slowly back 
 to her face, the old expression came back 
 to it. She opened her eyes and picked up 
 the thread of the conversation precisely 
 where it had left off, continuing, without 
 even repeating the last words, as though
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 153 
 
 the phrase had never been broken, ^^ get 
 away from myself for a Httle while, and not 
 only feel but be somebody else. I should 
 come back and take possession of my old 
 body, and begin a new life in a new spirit. 
 Darling dad," she exclaimed, after a mo- 
 mentary pause, '^ every step I take, every 
 day of my life, by daylight or by starlight, 
 I stand still and watch and listen — my 
 spirit does, I mean — for I feel I am going 
 forward to meet something — something 
 weird and gruesome is coming steadily for- 
 ward, coming slowly day by day to meet 
 me. I can't get away from it — I can't hide 
 from it. If I were to die, I believe it would 
 prevent my getting into my grave ! " 
 
 '' You must fight against these fancies," 
 exclaimed Mr. Fleming, rather sternly for 
 him ; he had exhausted his arguments long 
 ago, he could not combat things he did not 
 understand. Against the air-drawn dagger
 
 154 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 — SO menacing, so real, to the one diseased 
 mind — who can draw the sword ? The 
 things we fear are always greater than those 
 we suffer; whereas reason and common 
 sense can fight against and overcome real 
 tangible difficulties — they fail when they 
 are hurled against phantoms in the air. 
 Mr. Fleming sometimes got impatient with 
 his darling, impatient because he could not 
 comprehend, could not follow the somewhat 
 sombre, intricate mazes of her mind wherein 
 she herself was too often lost and dazed. 
 ^' You are over sensitive, darling, and too 
 imaginative," he added, after a brief silence ; 
 *' your nerves are too highly strung, and 
 cruel circumstances have given them a twist 
 awry. You frighten yourself with false 
 fears, and live in dread of things that never 
 happen. You must rouse yourself, Clarice ; 
 we have quite enough real difficulties to 
 contend with. I can protect you from the
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE SKELETON. 155 
 
 actual ills that threaten you, but I cannot 
 protect you against yourself. Try and 
 throw yourself into the life of this lovely 
 place ; interest yourself in your neighbours, 
 go among the poor and suffering and see 
 what you can do to help them, for in help- 
 ing others through their troubles we, to 
 some extent, forget our own." 
 
 '' I'll try, father dear, I will try," ex- 
 claimed Clarice, with a sudden change of 
 manner ; ^' but don't let us talk any more — 
 I'm tired. Where's Jack ? I saw him pass 
 the window a little while ago. Tell him he 
 may come and read to me if he likes."
 
 CHAPTEK YII. 
 
 TWO AEE COMPANY. 
 
 nnHE intimacy between the three famihes 
 -■- ripened rapidly during the next two or 
 three weeks ; both Jack Swayne and Hugh 
 Spencer still remained in Cornwall, though 
 they had both been due elsewhere for some 
 time past, but in some way each seemed to 
 be suspicious of the other, each seeming 
 determined to outstay the other, and see 
 him safely off the scene. Although this 
 was pretty evident, they were very good 
 friends apparently, and '^my dear fellow'd "
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY. 157 
 
 each other freely, after the manner of their 
 kind. 
 
 Nothing of any particular interest oc- 
 curred, the days rolled uneventfully on, 
 though the visiting between the neighbours 
 became fast and furious, the distance between 
 their several dwellings was spanned as by a 
 magic bridge. One day there was a luncheon 
 party at the Laurences', another a picnic 
 in the Manor House woods, or among the 
 wild, picturesque rugged rocks at the Land's 
 End, or perhaps they would enjoy an, al 
 fresco kettledrum at the Manor House, with 
 long delightful strolls upon the shore, 
 scrambling among the rocks in an emulous 
 hunt for sea anemones or any other weedy 
 or crustaceous wonder they could pick up, 
 sometimes prolonging their wanderings till 
 the sun had set, strolling homeward to the 
 Manor House through the misty twilight, 
 and there they generally found a cold col-
 
 158 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 lation temptingly awaiting them, which, of 
 course, induced them to prolong their visit 
 till unseasonable hours, and they amused 
 themselves with pleasant chit chat and 
 bright badinage, or perhaps a little music ; 
 for the only accomplishment which Hugh 
 possessed, that was not purely masculine, 
 was a talent for music ; he was a tolerably 
 good violin player and had a fine voice, a 
 tenor, which under cultivation would have 
 been a rare possession. 
 
 He and Clarice had found out and 
 thoroughly appreciated each other's musical 
 abilities. He sang in good style, and his 
 performance was infinitely superior to that 
 of amateurs generally, and when he could 
 induce Clarice to blend her rich, glorious 
 voice with his in a duet he seemed to climb 
 the heights of felicity at a bound, and sang 
 as though he would sing his soul away. 
 Then there were long lingering pressures of
 
 TWO ARE COMPANY. 150 
 
 the hand, sometimes a few tender words at 
 parting — which was perhaps a natural re- 
 sult of the romantic wanderings through 
 the long dreamy summer days, and the soft 
 influence of the moonlit' nights ; for Clarice 
 and Jack generally strolled with their visi- 
 tors on a part of their homeward way, and 
 more than once it had been nearly midnight 
 before they returned through the hushed 
 woods beneath the light of the weird white 
 moon. 
 
 The air at that time was so soft and 
 delicious, the sound of the unfathomable 
 silence so soothing, and the mysterious 
 murmur of the sea, as its phosphorescent 
 wavelets rolled in along the shore, was so 
 suggestive, so full of spiritual eloquence, 
 that Clarice was never tired of listening to 
 it. She enjoyed a ramble by night more 
 than a stroll by day ; if she could have 
 followed her own inclination she would
 
 IGO IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 have walked for hours ; she was never tired 
 of watching the moonlight creep silently 
 over the sleeping land, gliding along over 
 the hill-tops, sweeping down into the valleys, 
 piercing the tangled woods, and gliding 
 from point to point, resting here in a gleam 
 of ghostly whiteness, then passing on and 
 leaving a host of trailing shadows behind it. 
 Through all this change in her life Clarice 
 seemed merging into a brighter, happier 
 self, and Mr. Fleming, who watched her 
 with anxious, loving eyes, rejoiced to see 
 her gradually improving in all respects ; 
 she certainly was better in health, and in 
 every way seemed more contented and at 
 rest ; the smile came more frequently to 
 her lips, and her eyes shone with a quiet, 
 peaceful light that he never remembered 
 to have seen there before. She took more 
 interest in the common affairs of daily life, 
 and indeed seemed to have entered upon a
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY. 161 
 
 new plane of existence altogether, while her 
 manner to Jack was decidedly more friendly 
 and affectionate than it had been for many 
 a day. They had neither of them made 
 any reference to the darling project of his 
 heart since they had last spoken together 
 on the subject, but whether this augured 
 well or ill for its success he was afraid to 
 speculate ; he must watch and wait. Whether 
 her present tranquillity would be lasting, 
 consequent upon the modification and change 
 in her life — for the present social condition 
 with the new elements introduced into it was 
 a great change — or was only a mere mood, 
 a lull upon the surface of her nature, leaving 
 the subtle stormy current unchanged below, 
 he could not tell. 
 
 A great deal of her present content he 
 attributed to the friendly and familiar rela- 
 tions that had been established between 
 herself and other young people of her own 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 1G2 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 age ; lie encouraged their frequent visits to 
 the Manor House ; he preferred that Clarice 
 should receive her young friends there, 
 rather than that she should visit them 
 at their own homes. He liked to see the 
 young people twittering ahout the garden 
 like heedless young sparrows, or otherwise 
 amusing themselves in the many ways 
 peculiar to their age and inclinations, 
 and when he caught the sound of 
 Clarice's low, rippling laughter. Wending 
 with the more boisterous tones of her 
 companions, he smiled with inward satis- 
 faction. Sometimes he thought the young 
 men might emploj^ their time better, that 
 it was being wasted, frittered away in 
 feminine society ; yet he would not regret 
 it if matters between Clarice and Jack 
 were ripening quietly towards the fruition 
 of his great desire — almost the one desire 
 of his life now.
 
 TWO ARE COMPANY. 1G3 
 
 He had no idea how the rambhng party 
 conducted itself, whether they strolled about 
 a compact body, or straggled off in pairs, 
 like the animals in Noah's Ark, each ac- 
 cording to its kind and affinity ; he never 
 troubled himself to think about it. Jack 
 and Clarice were so closely, so indissolubly 
 linked together in his mind, that the idea 
 of any other man or woman having the 
 power to draw them apart by the action of 
 any natural magic or mesmerism, to attract 
 the one from the other, never entered his 
 mind ; it could not he ! That the natural 
 perversity of human nature should divert 
 itself by playing a game of cross purposes 
 on this special occasion was a thing un- 
 dreamt of in his philosophy. However, as 
 it happened, things generally fell out some- 
 thing in this wise. Though the party 
 might be closely allied at starting, the 
 general conversation soon began to flag,
 
 1G4 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 and they drifted into X3airs, and somehow 
 chance or fate decided that Hugh Spencer, 
 should find himself beside Clarice, and 
 attached Jack Swayne to Miss Spencer's 
 skirts. The Misses Lam^ence, healthy- 
 hearted, good-natured girls, were thrown 
 off into a kind of skirmishing party, and 
 fired little saucy shots into the tete-a-tete 
 stragglers, which were caught up and an- 
 swered in the friendliest fashion. 
 
 It is by no means certain that the ar- 
 rangement was productive of general satis- 
 faction. As a rule, in these little matters^ 
 some one would like to change places with 
 somebody else ; but as somebody else i& 
 supremely content, there is small chance 
 of a change in the arrangements, and the 
 discontented veils his vexation by an ap- 
 pearance of uproarious good spirits, for if 
 he shows his annoyance, or allows a tip of 
 the green-eyed monster's tail to reveal itself,,
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY. 165 
 
 he lays himself open to mild attacks of 
 banter and merciless badinage, which are 
 insupportable to the manly spirit. 
 
 To Miriam Spencer these seaside or 
 woodland wanderings came to be the only 
 things worth living for; she was unaccus- 
 tomed to the world, and had never dreamed 
 that such a man as Jack Swayne would ever 
 drift across her path. In her eyes 
 
 *' He seemed the goodliest man 
 That ever among ladies sate in hall, 
 And noblest ! " 
 
 As though roused by some subtle power, 
 her whole soul, awakened from its dull 
 lethargic calm, became absorbed in the 
 thought of him. The world seemed to 
 revolve in a new orbit, everything seemed 
 so changed and bright. She believed that 
 he eagerly sought her society, when it was 
 mere chance which threw him into it — that 
 he desired no better thing than to wander
 
 IGG IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 by her side beneath the summer sun. The 
 courtesies and small complimentary no- 
 things, which pass current and do good 
 lip-service in general society, she received 
 as the pure gold coinage of the love-lands, 
 in circulation only when the heart is touched, 
 and the wandering fancy chained by the 
 heart's affection ; and he — well, he was 
 blind to the soft love-light dawning in her 
 cold blue eyes. 
 
 "When, as it often happened, they found 
 themselves thrown together in solitary com- 
 panionship, he naturally devoted himself to 
 her, and endeavoured to make the time pass 
 pleasantly, as he felt a gentleman was bound 
 to do, and to which he was perfectly well 
 inclined. He thought she was rather cold 
 and reserved, and, perhaps, took a little 
 more pains than he need have done, to find 
 out whether she had a heart or not, without, 
 however, having the slightest idea of bring-
 
 TWO ARE COMPANY. 167 
 
 ing down upon himself the avalanche of her 
 affections ! 
 
 He never reflected that human nature has 
 volcanic qualities, and a passionate heart is 
 often hidden by a cold exterior. Although 
 he seemed absorbed by Miriam Spencer, his 
 thoughts and his eyes constantly turned 
 upon that other pair chatting so pleasantly 
 ahead of him ; and when he heard Hugh's 
 fresh voice ring out on the still air, and 
 caught a glimpse of Clarice's fair face 
 smiling a comment or reply in answer, 
 his broad brow contracted into a frown, 
 and an ominous cloud gathered in his 
 eyes, which those who knew him well 
 would not have cared to see ; but Miriam 
 was too obtuse, too well assured of the 
 effects of her own charms, to comprehend 
 those delicate signs of emotion, and tripped 
 by his side, with a light heart, rejoicing. 
 
 On one of those excursions— the last, as
 
 1G8 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 it chanced to be — as they were scrambHng 
 among the rocks, Clarice's foot got entangled 
 among the slippery sea-weed, and in her 
 endeavours to disengage herself she lost 
 her balance and fell. Hugh, who was close 
 by, sprang forward with outstretched hand 
 to arrest her fall, but too late ; he fell into 
 a pool of water himself, and by the time he 
 had picked himself up Clarice had scram- 
 bled into a sitting posture, but seemed 
 imable to rise to her feet, even when he 
 came to her assistance. She looked up at 
 him with a piteous expression of coun- 
 tenance, as she said : 
 
 ^^ I'm afraid I've hurt my foot ; I cannot 
 stand." 
 
 *< Try now ; with my help, perhaps you 
 can," answered Hugh, promptly giving her 
 the support he thought necessary. ^'Now 
 try." 
 
 ''It is no use. I can't; and — oh! it is
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY. . 1G9 
 
 such pain ! " she moaned ; *^ my ankle gives 
 way under me. If I could only get on to 
 the beach and rest a little ! " 
 
 '^ Shall I — will you let me carry you ? '' 
 he said, eagerly. ^' I — I am very sorry, but 
 I fancy there is no other way of getting you 
 to the land." He blushed like a girl as he 
 Spoke, and she answered in embarrassed 
 hesitation : 
 
 *' Oh, dear ! it was so stupid of me ! and 
 I'm afraid I'm too heavy — and it is so 
 slippery. I'm afraid we should both ^fall 
 down." 
 
 * He lifted her as though she were but a 
 feather's weight, and, balancing himself, 
 carefully picked his way over the wet weed- 
 covered stones, and soon deposited her on a 
 rough boulder upon dry land. Meanwhile 
 Jack Swayne, slowly sauntering along the 
 shore, as usual by Miriam's side, now ex- 
 changing pleasantries with Stella Laurence,
 
 170 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 or picking up pebbles and pelting the waves, 
 or shooting tender common -places into 
 Miriam's expectant ears, saw from afar off 
 what had happened, and uttering a hurried 
 exclamation under his breath, strode rapidly 
 forward, soon covered the ground between 
 them, and stood by Clarice's side, looking 
 down upon her with a look of angry solicit 
 tude upon his face, as he said, shortly — 
 
 '' What is it, Clarice ? What has hap- 
 pened?" 
 
 *'0h, nothing much," she answered, as 
 cheerfully as she could, considering she was 
 in pain; *'only I slipped upon the rocks, 
 and hurt my foot." 
 
 "If I had been with you it wouldn't 
 have happened," he said, shortly, without 
 glancing at Hugh, who, without taking the 
 least notice of the base insinuation, smiled 
 brightly down on Clarice, saying, with an 
 aggravatingly tender air —
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY. 171 
 
 *^ You'll be better after a little rest 
 Somebody wet a handkerchief — you, Miss 
 Stella, and make a bandage for the poor 
 little foot." 
 
 " Nobody could have helped it, Jack,'* 
 said Clarice, answering his angry look de- 
 precatingly, and somehow feeling that Hugh 
 had fallen into disgrace. She tried to throw 
 oil upon the troubled waters, and instead of 
 smoothing matters, with tactless innocence 
 added fuel to the smouldering fire of Jack's 
 wrath, as she said — ^ 
 
 ^* I don't know what I should have done 
 without Mr. Spencer ; he was so kind, and 
 carried me all over the slippery rocks." 
 
 '« Very kind of him," said Jack ; '^ I don't 
 suppose any other man would have done as 
 much ! How can we ever recompense such 
 courage — such chivalry ? ' ' 
 
 ** Don't mention it, my dear fellow," an- 
 swered Hugh, with imperturbable good-
 
 172 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 humour; ^'it was a real pleasure, I assure 
 you." 
 
 Meanwhile Stella had dipped her hand- 
 kerchief mto the sea, and proceeded to bind 
 up the injured foot, while Jack stooped 
 down and held a low-voiced and evidently 
 sympathetic colloquy with Clarice, for after 
 a few minutes' quiet talk, she said — 
 
 ^' Yes, really, I am better now; in a few 
 minutes I shall be able to walk, I think, 
 though, perhaps, slowly." 
 
 ^* If you are not, you know," said Hugh, 
 ** my — what was it ? — courage and chivalry 
 are still at your service ; I shall be delighted 
 to resume my burden, and carry you home." 
 
 ^'Thanks," said Jack, answering for her; 
 ** as I said before, you are very kind, but 
 now that I am here, there is no necessity 
 for troubling any one. If you are really 
 inclined to be useful, you might run up to 
 the Manor House and send down the pony-
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY. ITS 
 
 carriage to meet us at the nearest point, 
 though I hardly know where that is." 
 
 " I know," repHed Hugh ; ^' I'll bring the 
 carriage myself, and then run down and 
 fetch you along. Ail revoir ! I shall not 
 be long." 
 
 Although Clarice suffered from a slight 
 sprain only, it was enough to confine her 
 for some days to the house — days, how- 
 ever, that passed pleasantly enough, for 
 there was no brooding time allowed her ; 
 her young friends were unremitting in their 
 attentions, and every day some of them 
 dropped in to amuse her with the little 
 gossip of the town — poor, twaddling stuff 
 it was, molehills magnified to mountains, 
 and commonplace facts swollen to romantic 
 incidents; but their good, genial spirits 
 and fresh, breezy voices could but have a 
 healthful influence on Clarice's more deli- 
 cately organized, morbid nature. Besides
 
 174 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 the visits of her female friends, her solitude 
 was enlivened by Hugh's companionship, 
 for, punctual as clockwork, he made his 
 appearance at the Manor House, and 
 always with some little offering in his 
 hand — a bunch of wild flowers, fresh from 
 the woods, a book, a poem, or any little 
 thing that might please her passing fancy. 
 His coming was generally heralded by Jack 
 Swayne, who, with pleasant honliomie, 
 escorted him into the library, where Clarice 
 rechned upon her sofa with the windows 
 flung wide open, while the song of birds 
 mingled with the sweet scent of flowers, 
 and the briny breath of the sea swept in 
 with invigorating freshness. Jack was ap- 
 parently in the best of spirits, and enlivened 
 the interview with cheery, pleasant talk. 
 He always remained till the end of the 
 visit, and then escorted Hugh out of 
 Clarice's presence with more inward satis-
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY. 175 
 
 faction than he had ushered him into 
 it. 
 
 Unfortunately, so Hugh thought, he was 
 compelled to return to Cambridge before 
 Clarice was well enough to enjoy another 
 ramble through the blossoming woods, 
 which were fast bursting into their sum- 
 mer bloom, and he somewhat rebelled 
 against the constant, though genial pre- 
 sence of Jack Swayne, during the brief 
 
 time he passed in her society. He called 
 
 * 
 late one afternoon to take his leave ; by 
 
 skilful manoeuvring he had contrived to 
 leave the members of his own family at 
 home, and timed his visit so that Jack 
 should be absent, taking his daily consti- 
 tutional ; but he had evidently changed his 
 daily habit, for when Hugh arrived, there 
 was the irrepressible Jack lounging on the 
 terrace, as though actually awaiting his 
 arrival. He greeted Hugh, and shook
 
 176 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 hands with him more cordially than ever. 
 The young men walked up and down, 
 smoked a cigar together, and chatted 
 upon such subjects as came uppermost 
 in their minds. Presently Jack said, with 
 a provoking air of cool proprietorship — 
 
 ** You'll he glad to hear that Clarice is 
 getting on splendidly; she walked across 
 the room this morning without assistance. 
 Would you like to see her, eh ? " 
 
 Hugh replied that he certainly should ; 
 in fact he had come purposely to say 
 *' good-bye," as he was going back to Cam- 
 bridge, and might not return to Penally 
 for some time. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Jack, with some satis- 
 faction. ** I finished my grind long ago, 
 thank God ; I can come and go as I please 
 now, no more exams., no more anything 
 disagreeable. But, come along, we'll go in 
 to our fair invalid at once."
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY, 177 
 
 There are times when the society of our 
 dearest friend may be dispensed with, and 
 this was one. Jack's substantial figure 
 loomed darkly between Hugh and Clarice, 
 and, for Hugh, dimmed the brightness of 
 the parting hour. If he could only have 
 had five minutes* Ute-a-Ute with her ! Not 
 that he had anything particular that he 
 dared to say, only he would fain have 
 had her low-voiced, sweet '^ good-bye " fall 
 upon his ear alone — the light of her soft 
 blue eyes shine upon him only, with no 
 shadow between to intercept a single ray. 
 He longed to send one secret, silent message 
 from his soul to hers, that she might know 
 and feel, without the aid of words, how 
 much he loved her, and how much of him- 
 self he left behind him. But the antago- 
 nistic influence of Jack's presence stood 
 between themj and stirred the atmosphere 
 with an adverse current which flowed like a 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 178 7.Y SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 subtle invisible cloud between them, and so 
 their parting was a mere commonplace 
 ** good-bye." He held her hand with a 
 long, lingering pressure, that was scarcely 
 necessary, in Jack's eyes, as he said : 
 
 *' I am sorry to go ; but for your accident 
 we should have had our excursion to the 
 Land's End ; you know nothing of the 
 grand picturesque beauty of our coast till 
 you have been there ; now it must be post- 
 poned." 
 
 " Don't distress yourself, my dear fellow, 
 it won't be postponed for long," said Jack, 
 with aggressive cheerfulness ; *^ I mean to 
 drive Clarice over as soon as she is able to 
 bear the fatigue of a long excursion ; we'll 
 ^et up a jolly little picnic and — drink your 
 health with the first bottle of cham- 
 pagne." 
 
 ^' I shall miss Mr. Spencer dreadfully," 
 said Clarice, as her eyes dreamily followed
 
 TWO ARE COMPANY. 179 
 
 his retreating figure disappear into the 
 wilderness, ^^ he has been so attentive since 
 my little accident," and she sniffed at the 
 last bunch of wild flowers he had brought 
 her ; ^^ so kind of him," she added, '^ to 
 €ome here every day to amuse me, he always 
 managed to cheer me up — it must have been 
 dull work too." 
 
 <^Yery," replied Jack. ''I wonder how 
 he survived it ! seriously. Clary, I think we 
 ought to present him with a testimonial in 
 the shape of a piece of plate, duly inscribed, 
 setting forth his virtues, don't you know, as 
 they do when a fellow distinguishes himself 
 in " 
 
 *' Don't talk nonsense. Jack," she an- 
 swered smiling, with an impatient toss of 
 her pretty head ; then, as though suddenly 
 struck by the idea that she had let all Jack's 
 •devotion pass without a word of recognition, 
 she added, laying her hand in his, *^You
 
 180 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 have been very good too, Jack, but then 
 you always are. Somehow, one expects it 
 of you, it seems natural that you should do 
 everything and be everything. I wish I 
 could do something for you in return, Jack, 
 but I can't, I can't ! And you have spoilt 
 me always, ever since father first brought 
 me home ; how long, how very long ago that 
 seems ! Who would have thought such days, 
 as these could be born of such a time as^ 
 that ? " She spoke slowly, her voice and 
 her thoughts seemed to trail back into the 
 past, the sweet expression which had late!}- 
 dawned upon her face faded from it, and left 
 it white and set with the strange sad look 
 that he knew so well ! It was as though a 
 shadow from the unknown years had fallen 
 over her and clouded her spirit, and gathered 
 all her thoughts together and focussed them 
 upon some terrible spot in the past that 
 shut out the light of the sun.
 
 TWO ABE COMPANY. 181 
 
 Jack was patient, he knew the mood 
 would pass away. He sat by her side, 
 holding her hand in his sympathetic clasp, 
 and watched and waited.
 
 CHAPTEK YIIT. 
 
 SHE SAYS "NO I 
 
 HUGH turned his back upon Penally and 
 went away with lingering footsteps ; 
 the buoyant lightness of his spirit was left 
 behind him, and he carried away in his 
 heart something that was new and strange 
 to him, and sweet withal, but the sweetness, 
 for the moment, was touched with the bitter 
 pain of parting. He seemed suddenly to 
 have merged into another self. It seemed 
 incredible that only a month ago he had 
 come down to Penally a free man — free in 
 body and in mind, light of heart as lithe of
 
 SHE SAYS ''NO."' 183 
 
 limb, with no thought for to-morrow, no 
 cloud to dim the brightness of to-day. Now^ 
 he was a changed man. Something had 
 been born into his life that would never 
 leave it, and had turned its current from 
 the laughing level plains of the world's 
 highways, wdiere commonplace life deports 
 itself in commonplace fashion, and plunged, 
 it into soft mysterious depth, where the 
 lights and shadows of romance fall flickering 
 on the present and light up the future with 
 the passionate glow of a man's first love. 
 
 The thought of Clarice possessed him 
 wholly, and coloured all his thoughts, hopes, 
 and aspirations ; he could paint no scene on 
 the broad canvas of his future, wherein she 
 was not the principal figure, fair in the fore- 
 ground, leaving all the rest in shadow. 
 Strange to say he was not troubled with the 
 thoughts of Jack ; he regarded him simply 
 as a stumbling-block, not as a rival ; why !
 
 184 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 he had been with her all his life, and had 
 such opportunities of winning her affections 
 as no outsider could ever hope to enjoy, and 
 as she was still unwon — ^^of that he felt well 
 assured — there was no chance of his winning 
 her now. The atmosphere of secrecy which 
 enveloped Clarice, and lifted her out of the 
 common groove of womankind, increased 
 her fascinations a thousandfold. He felt 
 that the mystery would one day be un- 
 ravelled, and unravelled by his hand. He 
 fancied, from a stray word she had once let 
 fall, that he had found a clue to it, and 
 resolved to hold that clue fast in his 
 memory, and follow it to the end. If he 
 could have seen whither it would lead him, 
 he would perhaps have dropped it and 
 turned his face towards the. other end of the 
 world. 
 
 It was nearly twilight, a few days after 
 Hugh Spencer's departure, and Clarice, who
 
 SHE SAYS "NO!'' 185 
 
 had progressed rapidly, and was now able 
 to walk without discomfort, was out upon 
 the terrace. For a time she paced up and 
 down with rapid, restless footsteps — then she 
 stopped suddenly and leaned over the stone 
 wall with her face turned seaward. She 
 remained there a long time, watching the 
 delicate cloudlets of amethyst and gold 
 which were floating like angels' wings on 
 the horizon. Jack was not far off; he was 
 seated under a tree with a cigar between 
 his lips. With a tender love-light in* his 
 eyes, he watched Clarice, as she stood in 
 the after-glow of the sunset, her rapt face 
 half veiled in shadow. A solitary thrush 
 called from its bower of green ; but for that 
 one musical trill, a sweet dewy silence 
 brooded everywhere, a silence just haunted 
 by the inarticulate murmurings of invisible 
 nature; the air was stirred with sweet 
 odours, and the spirit of j)eace and purity
 
 180 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 seemed moving like an invisible presence 
 over the drowsy land. Jack presently flung 
 away the end of his cigar and slowly crossed 
 to Clarice's side. 
 
 " You had better come in, dear," he said ; 
 ^^ we must take care of you, it is getting 
 chilly, and the dews are beginning to 
 fall." 
 
 *' It is warm and delicious, and there aro 
 no dews yet," she answered, slightly rebel- 
 ling as he persisted in wra^Dping a shawl 
 about her shoulders. 
 
 He kept his arm round her, and looked on. 
 her with fond yearning which she, and she 
 only, could call into his grave dark eyes. 
 
 '' How quiet and silent you are ! " he said, 
 softly. ^^ Clarice, darling, what are you 
 thinking of?" 
 
 *^ I — nothing," she answered, briefly. 
 
 '' Nothing ! " he echoed, incredulously ; 
 but in truth it often happened that she was
 
 SHE SAYS ''NO!" 187 
 
 thinking of nothing ; for a hazy nebulous 
 something seemed working in her brain, 
 trying to resolve itself into rays of thought, 
 but the light was lost in the shadowy 
 wanderings of her imaginations, and pre- 
 sented only a shapeless mass of tinted 
 mysteries to her mind's eye. His earnest 
 gaze vexed her. She turned her head away 
 impatiently, as she said : 
 
 *^ It is very rude to stare at people so. I 
 wish you wouldn't, for I don't like to be 
 looked at so — indeed I very much dislike»il" 
 
 *' Dislike to be looked at by those who 
 love you! That is strange." 
 
 *'Not at all strange," she answered. 
 *^ Why, even Bouncer growls if you stare at 
 him straight in the face ! " 
 
 ** Perhaps Bouncer has a bad conscience,, 
 and being given to evil ways has been 
 robbing the larder." 
 
 *^ Bouncer doesn't do such vulgar things.
 
 188 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 Jerry might ! he's such a greedy beast, never 
 satisfied ; he has no conscience at all ; I'm 
 sure if he were human he'd prefer stealing 
 to getting an honest living." 
 • Jack was silent. He was not going to be 
 driven from his point by a discussion on 
 canine vices or virtues. His silence seemed 
 to jar upon her in some way; for after a 
 momentary pause she added quickly : 
 
 ^^ I'm going in now." 
 
 ^'No, don't go yet, it won't hurt you to 
 be looked at a little longer, even by me. 
 I've seen somebody else look at you lately, 
 and you didn't seem to object." 
 . ^* I know what you mean," she answered, 
 turning her face away from his ardent gaze; 
 *^ but that was different; he didn't look at 
 me as you do." 
 
 *^ Of course he didn't," said Jack, deci- 
 dedly, *'I'd thrash him into a cocked hat if 
 he did."
 
 SHE SAYS ''NO!'' 189 
 
 *• Oh, Jack ! " exclaimed Clarice, breath- 
 less with horror at such a threat, 
 
 '' I don't see why he wants to look at you 
 at all," added Jack ; '* you are nothing to 
 Jiiniy and you're all the world to one.'' 
 
 *' Please don't talk like that," answered 
 Clarice; '^ you know that I never shall be 
 * all the lu oriel ' to any man." 
 
 *' No, not to any man, only to me. Why, 
 when you were a mere child, and I bought 
 you your first doll, you called yourself my 
 little wife and vowed you loved me above 
 all the world." 
 
 *^ Aye, but I am a woman now,'^ answered 
 Clarice, gently ; " I was always fond of you, 
 Jack, and I am very fond of you still, only 
 not quite in the way you want, and it is 
 wicked to pretend what one doesn't feel." 
 
 " There is no need for you to "pretend 
 anything," said Jack, eagerly, ^* Clary, dar- 
 ling, my one pure love !" — his strong, resolute
 
 190 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 face softened, and liis voice deepened into 
 passionate • emotion — " I shall be content 
 •with so little, I have enough love for both, 
 I can give all you need from my own full 
 suppl}^ I — I am not demonstrative ; people 
 who feel much never are ; only those who 
 j)layat passion talk about it, but I love you, 
 God knows I do ! and I have loved you all 
 your life ; not with that puny passion that 
 lives to-day and dies to-morrow, but — " 
 he stumbled as though his feelings could 
 not translate themselves into words — " why, 
 Clarice, you are imjself ! you have grown to 
 be a part of me, and can no more tear your- 
 self away than you could cut the body from 
 the soul ! It is not possible that you and I 
 can go separate ways, you to any other man, 
 I to any other woman ! " He spoke with 
 the deep earnestness of settled conviction, 
 as though he were the voice of inexorable 
 fate. '^Clarice! my one heart's love, why
 
 SHE SAYS "NO!'' 191 
 
 can't you give yourself to me ? you profess 
 to love my uncle, your more than father ." 
 
 *' And I do love him ! " exclaimed Clarice, 
 lifting her eyes, now filled with tears, to his 
 face, for she could not bear to hurt the 
 meanest thing, and she knew she was 
 hurting Jack dreadfully ; '^ there is nothing 
 in the world I would not do to prove it — 
 I'd give him my very life gladly." 
 
 '^ That is tall talk," said Jack, with a 
 momentary return of his usual cool manner ; 
 " you know he doesn't want your life — what 
 good would it be to him ? The days are past 
 when heroic sacrifices were needed from 
 men or women either ; it is easy talking — 
 the one thing, the only thing he has ever 
 asked of you — the one thing that would 
 make us all three happy, you will not do." 
 
 " That is nonsense ! " rejoined Clarice, 
 going straight to the point at once ; " how 
 could I be happy if I was forced or talked
 
 192 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 into doing a thing I hate ? for," she added, 
 laying her hands upon his shoulder and 
 fixing her eyes with bewildering sweetness 
 upon his face, **it sounds dreadful. Jack — 
 but I should hate even you if — if — I were 
 forced to marry you." 
 
 " That sounds horrible," exclaimed Jack, 
 hfting her hands down, but still holding 
 them fast in his. Her absolute directness 
 had thrown a new light upon the subject. 
 ^' The idea of forcing a woman to do any- 
 thing is repulsive ; but I hoped you were to 
 be won; it seems impossible that a great 
 love like mine — a love not born in an hour, 
 Lorn of a woman's grace or a woman's 
 beauty, but the gradual growth of a man's 
 whole life — should fail to win love in return ! 
 But I can't grovel and beg for what I long 
 
 for. If you reject me so . But, my 
 
 darling, my darling, my heart is so hungry 
 for you — canH you come to me ? " With a
 
 SHE SAYS ''NOr\ 193 
 
 burst of passionate emotion he clasped her 
 in his arms, and in the next moment thrust 
 her rather rudely from him as he exclaimed, 
 ''My God! though I hold you so close, I 
 feel you are miles away ! I would rather 
 hold a dead woman to my heart than a 
 body without a soul ! — and yet it is hard " 
 — he spoke half through his clenched teeth 
 as though trying hard to keep some bad 
 thing back, as he added, regretfully, '' My 
 fair, sweet purity ! it is hard to think you 
 can never — never be mine." 
 
 '^ Why don't you leave off wanting me. 
 Jack?" she rejoined, simply; ''everything 
 would be so pleasant and easy then. Can't 
 you let things be as they are ? " 
 
 " I can — if I must," he answered 
 
 " And we will go back to our old ways," 
 she added, " and you will be the same dear, 
 good old Jack you've always been to me till 
 this dreadful idea came into your head, and 
 
 VOL. 1. 14
 
 194 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 I will be like a sister to you — if you will let 
 me." 
 
 ** You may as well offer to be my grand- 
 mother," he rejoined, gloomily; *' you don't 
 understand things — girls never do." 
 
 *'I dare say I'm very stupid, Jack," she 
 answered, humbly, ** but I can understand 
 one thing well enough — I know that I have 
 hurt you, and in hurting you I have hurt 
 myself more ; it is always worse to give 
 pain than to endure it, especially when one 
 must hurt those one loves." 
 
 ** Don't be a hypocrite, child," he ex- 
 claimed, with a harshness born of despair, 
 for he had always hoped till now — that 
 hope had been suddenly and surely shut 
 out of his heart, ''and misuse the word love! 
 you know nothing about it." 
 
 ''I am not a hypocrite," in an aggrieved 
 tone ; '"^ there are many ways of loving, 
 though you seem to think there is only 
 one."
 
 SHE SAYS "NO r 195- 
 
 '' With lis there is but one way ; and 
 that you will find out some time. I shall 
 be sorry for the man when you do ! " he 
 added, grimly. 
 
 ^' If it makes people hard and cruel as it 
 makes you, I hope I never shall know any- 
 thing about it,'' said Clarice, stifling a sob. 
 Her voice sounded full of tears, and her 
 face looked so pale and sad, it sent a bitter 
 pang to his heart, and caused a revulsion of 
 feeling, with less of self and more of gene- 
 rosity in it. For pure, unadulterated selflfeh- 
 ness, there is no one like a man in love ; 
 while he is fully awake to his own sufferings^ 
 his own egotistical desires, he is blind and 
 dead to the pain and sorrow he inflicts on 
 the object of his devotion. Her miserable 
 face roused Jack to a sense of his selfish- 
 ness ; and he lashed himself with silent 
 anathemas, low uttered under his breath. 
 As soon as he could command his voice, he 
 said, aloud —
 
 196 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 *^ I've a great mind to say I'll never for- 
 give you for making me such a coward ! for 
 it is cowardly to badger a poor little girl 
 like you ; come, cheer up — don't make me 
 feel more of a brute ! " 
 
 She blinked away her unshed tears in 
 obedience to his desire ; and a smile like a 
 gleam of sunshine through an April shower 
 stole over her face. 
 
 ^' There, that's right," he said, "and 
 we'll try to forget that the ' dreadful idea ' 
 ever entered my mind ! " It cost him a 
 twinge to echo her words, but he did, 
 adding, '' and we'll let things go on in the 
 old way. I promise not to allude to the 
 subject, and — there's my hand upon it. 
 Why, how cold yours are ! you are shiver- 
 ing too ! though the night is so soft and 
 warm. Come, let us take a brisk walk and 
 get warm together." 
 
 Clarice rejoiced to see Jack putting on his
 
 SHE SAYS "NO!" 197 
 
 old self, and gladly accepted his invitation 
 and commenced to walk briskly up and down. 
 The twilight had died out, and the stars, 
 like golden flowers, bloomed out of the dark 
 blue skies ; everything was shrouded in dim 
 obscurity. Not a feature of the landscape 
 was discernible, and the sea, hidden away 
 like a huge mystery, boomed thunderously 
 upon the far-away shore below. They still 
 paced up and down, now silent, now ex- 
 changing a few commonplace words, rather 
 for the sake of speaking than for anything 
 particular they had to say. They tried to lay 
 a smooth surface over the troublous feelings 
 that agitated them below, and, with their 
 tongues at least, glided as far as possible 
 away from the subject that lay nearest to 
 their hearts. Both were sadly ill at ease ; she 
 felt the great sorrow which any pure woman 
 must feel at giving pain to the man who 
 loves her, and who comes to her with the full
 
 198 7.V SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 approval and good wishes of those nearest 
 and dearest to her. She grieved for him, 
 and she grieved for herself ; she knew she 
 was rejecting, and rejecting for all time, the 
 love of a true man, a love that would never 
 fail her through all the changing scenes of 
 the days to come, that would cleave to her 
 through storm and sunshine, weal and woe, 
 to the end, and she put it h'om her with a 
 regretful sigh. 
 
 She was fond of Jack, with the fondness 
 which grows with the familiar intercourse 
 of daily life, the pleasant, easy-going affec- 
 tion that makes home harmonious, and 
 helps the machinery of the world to grind 
 through the days and years without drag- 
 ging them with discords or keeping the 
 domestic hearth in a state of chronic uTup- 
 tion ; hut when he was projDOsed to her as 
 a lover ! a prospective husband ! she laughed 
 at first, and thought it was a joke ; then
 
 SHE SAYS ''NOr 199 
 
 when her father broached the subject in all 
 seriousness, her soul revolted from the idea. 
 Although there was really no blood rela- 
 tionship between them, she had from her 
 earliest years been so accustomed to regard 
 him as a dear brother that the bare notion 
 of regarding him in any other hght seemed 
 unnatural, and filled her with dismay. With 
 Jack things had been different from the 
 beginning. Years ago, when his uncle with 
 strange suddenness had brought to their 
 grand old Devonshire home a wife anji a 
 little girl, Clarice — then a grave, silent 
 child about six years old — he, a fine strap- 
 ping youth of sixteen, had constituted him- 
 self her guardian and friend, and during all 
 his home-staying times devoted himself to 
 her baby pleasures ; his boisterous spirits 
 were toned down in her presence, and he 
 left his rough boyish sports to accommodate 
 himself to her gentle childish ways — her
 
 200 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 nurse's place was a sinecure when Jack was 
 at home ; he played with her and amused 
 and wandered about the woods, and over 
 the hills with her — they were never apart, 
 and the tall, bright-eyed youth and fair, 
 fragile little girl grew to be familiar objects 
 to the country people for miles round. 
 
 The sweet, strange ways 'of the delicate 
 child attracted and held the boy more firmly 
 than the most exuberant animated girlhood 
 could have done; he watched over her 
 through all her changing moods, through 
 the gradual development of her nature from 
 her quaint childhood to beautiful, mysterious 
 womanhood. She had been the feminine 
 study of his life, and he fancied he held her 
 heart in his hand and could dissect it at his 
 leisure ! He knew her so thoroughly, he 
 thought — and perhaps he did know her as 
 well as one human being ever does know 
 another, and that is not saying much, for
 
 SHE SAYS "NO!'' 201 
 
 from the cradle to the grave we are living 
 mysteries to ourselves, and double mysteries 
 to one another. As he watched the fair 
 young thing develope from one stage of 
 beauty to another, his great love grew and 
 strengthened day by day, absorbing her 
 more and more into his life — now that she 
 had blossomed into the full bloom of 
 womanhood, he had stretched forth his 
 hand to take her, to gather her to his heart, 
 Hfe of his life, lo ! all he had desired to have 
 and to hold through all this side of eternity 
 crumbled beneath his touch, and left his 
 hand full of ashes ! He had played all his 
 life for one stake and — lost, when he had 
 thought it most secure. The most terrible 
 crisis in life is always the most sudden ; 
 we build up our hopes and wishes into one 
 vast castle in the air, and, like a house of 
 cards, it is blown down with a breath ! He 
 had felt so happy and hopeful as the sun
 
 202 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 had set, but the stars came out and found 
 him desolate. A grey shadow fell over hhn 
 — he felt like a soldier paralyzed on the 
 march to glory ! but he would recover — he 
 knew that — and be strong, though perhaps 
 not with the same strength again. Pre- 
 sently a soft voice fell upon his ear ; he. 
 
 heard it as through a mist or fog, as it said: 
 
 *^ Jack — are you angry? " 
 
 ^' Angry ! " he echoed. '' No — why should 
 I be ? you can't help your feelings — I can't 
 help mine — that's all." After another 
 moment's brief and rather embarrassing 
 silence she spoke again, in a hesitating, 
 nervous way : 
 
 ^' Do you know that father has spoken to 
 me about — this? " 
 
 "No, I did not know it," he answered, 
 pausing abruptly in his walk. " He should 
 not have done so with my consent. I pre- 
 fer conducting my own affairs. Of course I
 
 SRE SAYS "NO/" 203 
 
 know, and have always known, that he had 
 this matter very much at heart ; but I am 
 vexed that he should have broached the sub- 
 ject to you without first consulting me. I 
 would not have the slightest pressure 
 brought to bear upon your inclination. I 
 would have jou. come to me of your own 
 free will, or — not at all." 
 
 *^ I knew you would feel so," she rejoined. 
 ^' Any man would who really cared. With 
 father it is different. You both want one 
 thing, but from different motives." 
 
 "Naturally, we cannot view the matter 
 from the same standpoint. The one hope 
 of the dear old man's life is centred in us 
 two — in you from love, on me from pride. 
 It really can't signify to him whom I marry, 
 or whom you marry — with proper provisions, 
 of course." 
 
 "Z shall never marry anybody," she ex- 
 claimed, accelerating her pace.
 
 204 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 He continued, without noticing her inter- 
 ruption : ^' He takes rather a financial view 
 of the matter. Old men generally do. He 
 regards us rather as goods and chattels. He 
 wants to bracket us together, and hang us 
 on his genealogical tree decorated with all 
 his wealth and property, to have and to 
 hold for evermore ; but we don't see it, do 
 we?" 
 
 ^' No," she answered, almost under her 
 breath. 
 
 '' So many lives are all writ awry in this 
 world," he added. ^^It is a pity that con- 
 science and duty won't always square with 
 our affections." 
 
 *' Yes ; but I think it is a pity that con- 
 science and duty and money should be mixed 
 with our affections at all." 
 
 *^ Oh ! it answers well enough, as a rule. 
 We are exceptions. It is a kind of Prince's 
 Mixture that keeps the pulse of the world
 
 SHE SAYS '"NO!" 205 
 
 going. Singly no one would be strong 
 enough for the purpose." 
 
 In spite of the bitter disappointment, the 
 spasm of real pain that was grappling at 
 his heart below, although his nature was 
 stirred to its inmost depths, his little 
 cynicisms came bubbling to the surface. He 
 felt deeply, but hid the depths of his feel- 
 ings. He was a man to suffer and be 
 strong, to act with a brave, dauntless spirit 
 when the hour for action came, and to leave 
 the talking to weaker, shallower natures. 
 
 Mr. Fleming's study and library was on 
 the ground floor, and the windows opened 
 out upon a grassy slope just above the 
 terraced walk where they were slowly pacing 
 up and down. More than once he rose 
 from his chair, went to the window and 
 looked out upon the two shrouded figures, 
 but dimly seen in the starlit night. He 
 thought Clarice was overfatiguing herself;
 
 206 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 that " Jack ought not to keep her out so 
 long or so late." Then his grave face re- 
 laxed into a smile. "Lovers are selfish," 
 he reflected; '^he wouldn't disturb them." 
 Somehow he felt that things were coming 
 to a crisis, and his sanguine old heart fondly 
 believed that the crisis must be as he most 
 desired. 
 
 They walked up and down for a few 
 moments longer, he holding her soft little 
 hand with a tender pressure — he could not 
 deny himself this luxury of feeling — a few 
 more words passed, that said little but meant 
 much. Neither seemed inclined to take the 
 first step towards parting, yet both felt it 
 would be well to say '^ good-night." At 
 last Clarice spoke. 
 
 " I'm tired. Jack," she said, wearily. '^ If 
 you don't mind, I think I'll go in." 
 
 " Of course," he answered, promptly. *' I 
 ought not to have kept you out so long."
 
 SHE SAYS "A-'O/" 207 
 
 For a moment both stood still and silent ; 
 then he took her face between his hands 
 and turned it up in the dim starlight. '^ Just 
 one last word, one last look, darling," he 
 whispered, his eyes clinging to her face, and 
 his voice low and full of suppressed passion. 
 *' We bid good-bye to love to-night ; but we 
 will take friendship to our heart's core, and 
 perhaps that will be best of the two." 
 
 *^ Yes," she murmured below her breath. 
 
 ** And in any trouble, the least or the 
 greatest, you will turn to me V 
 
 *^ Oh, yes; always. Jack," she answered, 
 ^' if you won't " 
 
 '^ Of course I won't," he interrupted her 
 quickly, without giving her time to finish 
 her sentence. Then he added, with solemn 
 gravity : ** One thing more I must say before 
 we part. I have always had a presentiment 
 — and it comes upon me more strongly than 
 ever to-night — that in the one great crisis
 
 208 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 of your life I shall be with you ; J, and no 
 other man, shall stand beside you, whether 
 you call for me or no ! And now good- 
 night — good-night ! " With a sudden un- 
 controllable impulse he caught her in his 
 arms, and kissed her again and again with a 
 vehemence of passion that half frightened 
 her ; then abruptly he put her from him. 
 '' Now go. Good-night — good-night ! "
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 MIRIAM IN TROUBLE. 
 
 rriHE next day Clarice kept rigorously to 
 -*- her room, and as rigorously excluded 
 all visitors from it, refusing to see anyone 
 except her maid, an elderly German, who 
 had been with her from her childhood, and 
 perhaps knew her, with all her changing 
 moods, better than any one else in the world. 
 When the breakfast-bell rang, she sent down 
 word to say she was not coming down, and 
 wished to have her breakfast sent to her 
 room. The message was delivered just as 
 Mr. Fleming and Jack had seated them- 
 VOL. i» 15
 
 210 IN SIGHT OF LAND, 
 
 selves at the table. They looked at each 
 other interrogatively. 
 
 " I will go and see what is the matter 
 with the child," said Mr. Fleming, setting 
 down his cup. '' You kept her out too late 
 last night, Jack. Perhaps she has got a 
 chill ; if so, we must send off at once for 
 Dr. Parkes." 
 
 Without waiting for Jack's reply, he went 
 upstairs and tapped at Clarice's door. To 
 his surprise she flung it wide open herself, 
 and looked at him with a most uninvalidish 
 air. 
 
 ''Why, Clarice, my child, I thought you 
 were not well ; and I came up to see what 
 was the matter." 
 
 '' Well ! " she exclaimed, smiling, though 
 rather vaguely. '' Oh, yes, I am quite well, 
 only I want to be alone. I'm best alone to- 
 day ; people worry me. I want to think ; I 
 don't want to talk." Seeing an anxious.
 
 MIRIAM IN TBOUBLE. 211 
 
 perturbed look come into his eyes, she 
 reached her arms up about his neck, and 
 the kind, grey head stooped down and 
 kissed her as she said, reassuringly : '^ It is 
 true. I am quite well, dear; only I want 
 to think things out by myself. Ask Jack to 
 tell you about last night," she added, lower- 
 ing her voice to a whisper. 
 
 The old man returned to the breakfast- 
 room more at ease. When it was over he 
 and Jack retired to the library, and spent- 
 the morning there, talking, writing letters, 
 and seemingly plunged head over ears in 
 business matters. 
 
 The weather was not very attractive out 
 of doors, even if they had been disposed to 
 take advantage of it ; indeed, it was the 
 most unpleasant day of the season. The 
 bitter winds seemed to cling to the skirts of 
 summer ; the air was reeking with a thick 
 grey mist that almost reached the dignity of
 
 212 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 a fog. It seemed to have no strength to 
 clear itself off, but hovered in a hesitating sort 
 of way, as though it could not make up its 
 mind whether to disperse in showers of drizz- 
 ling rain, or wait drifting about to see if there 
 was a chance of the sun rising to drink it 
 up ; but the sun showed no signs of coming 
 out and shining in its bright, happy fashion. 
 Once or twice as the hours wore on it peeped 
 out in a weak, watery way, just sent one 
 solitary gleam earthward, then hastily with- 
 drew, recognizing the fact that it was really 
 no use trying to shine with such odds against 
 it. So it went to rest, resolved to get up 
 early in the morning to see what the world 
 was about. 
 
 It was past mid-day — indeed it only 
 wanted a few minutes to the hour when the 
 luncheon bell would be rung — when, glan- 
 cing from the library window. Jack observed 
 a waterproofed female figure struggling
 
 MIBIAM IN TBOUBLE. 213 
 
 against the wind, making headway under 
 difficulties towards the house. On the 
 nearer approach of the much-be-hundled-up 
 individual, it proved to be Miriam Spencer. 
 
 " What on earth can bring the girl out in 
 such weather as this ? " exclaimed Jack, as,, 
 rising up on hospitable thoughts intent, he 
 hurried out into the hall, sans ceremonie, to 
 receive and help to relieve her of her wraps. 
 
 It appeared that Clarice had written to her 
 the day before, asking her to lunch. Pos- 
 sibly the events of the evening had driven 
 the matter from her mind, for she had for- 
 gotten to mention it. Though Miriam 
 could not have the pony-chaise, that being 
 requisitioned elsewhere, she had braved the 
 weather rather than be deprived of the 
 pleasure of spending a few hours with " her 
 dear Clarice." Now, as it was Clarice's 
 desire to remain invisible for the day, the 
 entertainment of Miriam devolved on Jack,
 
 214 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 who was by no means loth to undertake it. 
 The pleasure she derived from his society 
 was so patent on the surface that in a slight 
 degree it communicated itself to him, and 
 he was really glad to have an agreeable 
 occupation to work through a few heavy 
 hours of this dreary day. 
 
 Accordingly he took Miriam into his 
 custody, and exerted his best powers of 
 pleasing in her behalf. He had no need to 
 call out the reserve forces of his fascina- 
 tions, for whatever he said or did was just 
 the most delightful thing that could be said 
 or done by mortal man. His light phrases, 
 just touched with the gallantry which most 
 men use in their discourse with a young and 
 pretty woman, played like a sacred p8@an 
 on her foolish, fluttering heart. 
 
 " Did any other man in all the world 
 possess such eyes as his ? and did 'he look 
 at any one else as he looked at her ? "
 
 MIRIAM IN TBOUBLE. 215 
 
 She had observed him with the Misses 
 Laurence and his Cousin Clarice, and cer- 
 tainly, she thought, his eyes wore quite a 
 different expression when he looked at her ! 
 And he — well, he was no vainer than most 
 men; but he did think that this icy, re- 
 served girl was beginning to thaw beneath 
 his benignant influence. He never thought 
 that while he was amusing himself he was 
 in any way acting ungenerously, or bringing 
 any danger near to her, or raising hopes in 
 her unsophisticated mind which he had no 
 intention of ever realizing. Strange that a 
 man who would punish a boy for robbing a 
 bird's-nest will, by a series of agreeable 
 depredations, steal a woman's heart, then 
 call her a fool for parting with it so easily ! 
 But Jack was getting cynical with regard to 
 women and their feelings, and had not much 
 belief in their hearts or their affections 
 either.
 
 216 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 They passed a very pleasant social hour 
 at the luncheon table. Jack declared that 
 she ate like a sparrow, and piled her plate 
 with the daintiest dishes — tempting little 
 delicacies, a great contrast to the meagre, 
 commonplace fare at home ; and Miriam 
 had as much capacity for enjoying good 
 things as a pronounced epicure, though not 
 such discriminating taste. All pleasant 
 things seemed crowding upon her at once. 
 While her appetite was being feasted with 
 perfect fare, her ears were being tickled with 
 pretty nothings, and her heart trembling 
 beneath the gaze of those wonderful dark 
 eyes, shooting invisible arrows out of their 
 quiet corners, and inflicting a delightful 
 wound with every one. 
 
 Both gentlemen did their best in Clarice's 
 absence to make things agreeable to their 
 unexpected guest. Poor Miriam was in the 
 seventh heaven, and thoroughly enjoyed the
 
 MIBIAM IN TROUBLE. 217 
 
 unusual situation at finding herself the soli- 
 tary guest in this masculine element. She 
 had a sort of guilty feeling that she was 
 doing wrong, or rather not doing right. 
 Eemaining there to be entertained by two 
 gentlemen was rather an outrage on conven- 
 tional propriety ; but she had not strength 
 to withstand temptation, and perhaps en- 
 joyed herself all the more from feeling she 
 was feasting on forbidden fruit, never heed- 
 ing whether it would impair her moral 
 digestion or no. 
 
 When luncheon was over Mr. Fleming's 
 attentions grew rather wearisome. He took 
 her into his sanctum, and insisted on show- 
 ing her a new beetle, a peculiarly hideous 
 monster, with crooked horns and shining 
 green wings ; he placed it beneath a 
 thousand-power magnifying-glass, enlarging 
 the hideosity to such a frightful degree that 
 she was inclined to run away from it. He
 
 218 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 would have spent an hour in point mg out 
 the difference between the structure of this 
 special object and others of the same class. 
 He was himself so deeply interested in 
 entomological subjects that he could not 
 understand the indifference of other people 
 to what in his eyes was an all-important 
 study ; but Jack came to the rescue, saying 
 with an air of comical reproach — 
 
 ^' You would hardly think that a man of my 
 uncle's reverend appearance and really kind 
 heart could spend his time in hunting down 
 these miserable objects and impaling them 
 alive. It is a barbarous amusement." 
 
 ^' One must take a broad view of these 
 matters, my dear boy," said the old man, 
 serenely ; ^^ my researches are in the interest 
 of science." 
 
 " Science has benefitted by the study of 
 beetles ! " observed Jack. " I think there 
 ought to be a society for the protection of
 
 MIRIAM IN TROUBLE, 219 
 
 butterflies and beetles, as well as cats and 
 dogs." 
 
 ^' The smallest thing that adds weight in 
 the scale of science ought not to be over- 
 looked," said Mr. Fleming, w^ho was used 
 to having a passage-of-arms with his nephew. 
 
 " Poor old Science ! " exclaimed Jack; '' if 
 it keeps its fires alight with such tiny fuel, 
 the sooner it is extinguished the better." 
 
 '' Like the rest of the world, you are too 
 apt to despise small things, Jack ; remem- 
 ber, the whole world is composed of infini- 
 tesimal atoms." 
 
 " And humanity built up on chemical pro- 
 ductions — phosphorus, lime, etc.," laughed 
 Jack; "and the immortal soul developed 
 through a course of roast-beef and apples, 
 or pork and beans, and kept in its illumina- 
 ting perfection by doses of champagne and 
 brandy till the final fizz, when it takes itself 
 off to another world."
 
 220 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 ^' You are not a bad specimen of a man and 
 a double first, Jack," said his uncle, restor- 
 ing the beetle to its sacred shrine ; *' but you 
 are a bad hand at philosophy." 
 
 ^* Kill philosophy and let me live ! " ex- 
 claimed Jack, as, turning to Miriam, he 
 added, ** When you have finished this 
 scientific skirmishing with my uncle, Miss 
 Spencer, perhaps you will honour me with a 
 moment's attention?" Miriam declared 
 that she was ready to honour him at once. 
 *' Well," he added, *' I was going to ride 
 over to the Rectory this afternoon, but if you 
 will allow me I shall have much pleasure 
 in driving you home in my dog-cart." 
 
 She would be delighted to be so driven ; 
 but was there no chance of her seeing Clarice, 
 even for five minutes, before she left ? 
 
 ^' I fear not — she won't even see m^," 
 said Jack. 
 
 '^ She is not very well," said Mr. Fleming;
 
 MIBIAM IN TEOUBLE. 221 
 
 ^' and if the slightest thing ails Clarice, 
 she prefers being alone — contrary to most 
 women, who like to be coddled." 
 
 ** She takes after me," exclaimed Jack. 
 ** I enjoy pain; I luxuriate in a toothache 
 or a touch of the gout ; but I like to enjoy 
 these luxuries in private. Like the wounded 
 bear, I would fly from the world, sit on my 
 haunches under a juniper-tree, and suck my 
 paws in peace." 
 
 Miriam's heart danced for joy at the idea 
 of having Jack for her escort home, anias 
 there was no likelihood of her seeing Clarice, 
 she put on her things at once. The weather 
 had cleared considerably, but it was still 
 grey and dreary. The dog-cart was soon 
 brought round, and before they started, Jack 
 saw that she was properly shawled, and 
 wrapped his own plaid round her. She was 
 almost stifled and smothered by his kindness, 
 but she would rather have died than rebelled
 
 222 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 against his over-care ; it was so sweet to be 
 the one object of solicitude, to be taken care 
 of by him. 
 
 ''There, I think you are all right now," 
 he exclaimed, giving her a final tuck-up, as he 
 sprang into the seat beside her ; and taking 
 the reins and the whip from the groom, he 
 gave it a crack, a flourish in the air, and they 
 were off. " Are you pretty comfortable ? " he 
 added, looking down upon her with a bright 
 smile. 
 
 '' Blissfully happy ! " her heart responded ; 
 but her lips only said demurely, ''Quite, 
 thank you." 
 
 " That's all right," he rejoined, heartily. 
 " There is still a nasty drizzling damp in 
 the air, but we can enjoy a good spin for 
 all that. I've not had much chance of 
 getting you behind a fast trotter before, 
 have I ? " 
 
 She fancied from his tone that his desires 
 in that respect had been cruelly frustrated.
 
 Mini AM IN TROUBLE. 223 
 
 " Yon have never invited me before," she 
 answered, softly. 
 
 *' Ah, no," he answered, with an accent 
 which she translated into a regretful sigh, 
 '' I daren't do it. I was afraid of being 
 snubbed." A moment's pause, then he 
 added, '' and no man likes to be snubbed by 
 a pretty woman I " 
 
 So they thought her beautiful too ! — he 
 did not particularize her, but his voice said 
 as much. 
 
 '^I — I shouldn't have snubbed you," she 
 said softly, looking down, her cheeks glow- 
 ing crimson. 
 
 '' No ? I wish you hadn't told me that 
 now ; it is too late — if I had only known it 
 before ! " 
 
 He stopped suddenly. She glanced up 
 in his face, but he was looking straight 
 between his horse's ears. She waited breath- 
 lessly for him to continue ; but his thoughts
 
 224 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 seemed to have wandered away — he had 
 lost their thread; his attention was diverted 
 to the horse. Presently he said, irrelevantly, 
 *' Would you mind my lighting a cigarette? 
 Do you object to smoke ? — some people like 
 it." 
 
 If he had asked her if she ^^ objected " to 
 the odour of the sewers, or perfume of stale 
 cabbage-water, she would have answered 
 **No! she considered both delightfully re- 
 freshing," to such a state of imbecility had 
 he unintentionally reduced her. Luckily he 
 did not know the extent of the damage he 
 had done. 
 
 He kept the mare at a fast trot ; the 
 ground seemed to fly beneath its feet. Why 
 was he hurrying so ? He was going the 
 shortest way too ! The minutes were flying, 
 they would be home soon — too soon ! and 
 this delightful drive would be over. W^hy 
 had he broken off in the middle of that
 
 MIRIAM IN TROUBLE. 225 
 
 suggestive speech ? He had said it was too 
 late — too late for what? The words kept 
 buzzing about her ears. He had relapsed into 
 silence ; still the ground flew beneath the 
 horse's feet — the village was already in sight. 
 Then a thrill of delight ran through her 
 veins : perhaps he was shaken with agitation 
 like herself, and from the same cause ! She 
 was inexperienced in mankind, and could 
 not read the signs of the time. With a 
 desperate effort she tried to evoke the spirit 
 of speech ; the words that buzzed about ber 
 brain found their way to the tip of her 
 tongue as she echoed the words he had 
 already forgotten. ^^You said it was * too 
 late;' what did you mean ? Too late— for 
 what?" 
 
 ** Ah ! yes, of course you don't under- 
 stand — how should you ? " he exclaimed, 
 leaping back to the old position. "Why, 
 too late to inaugurate a series of plea- 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 226 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 sant drives, which I should very much like 
 to do." 
 
 " Why ? the summer is only beginning !" 
 
 "Ay, but I am going away — I leave 
 Penally to-morrow." 
 
 There was a moment's pause ; for that 
 moment she could not speak. Then feeling 
 she must say something, she echoed his 
 words, but all the light and life had died 
 out of her voice ; it sounded as though she 
 were speaking through the mists of dream- 
 land. 
 
 "Going away ! leave Penally to-morrow ! " 
 
 "Yes, I'm off to-morrow," he answered, 
 perfectly oblivious and blind to her emotion. 
 
 " To-morrow ! — that's sudden," she ob- 
 served, faintly. 
 
 "It is rather sudden," he answered; re- 
 joining cheerfully, " but don't be afraid, our 
 yachting excursion shall come off all the 
 same. I shall run down again in a month
 
 MIBIAM IN TBO UBLE. 227 
 
 or two to see how you are all getting along." 
 Another brief silence ; then he seemed to 
 have some little difficulty in bringing 
 Clarice's name upon the ta2)is. He added, 
 *' I am glad to leave my cousin Clarice with 
 such a dear good little friend as you. I 
 dare say you will see a good deal of one 
 another. I hope you will — she will be very 
 dull else." 
 
 Miriam mumbled some suitable reply. 
 She was glad they were driving, glad that 
 his attention was occupied by his mare, thS-t 
 he could not see her tell-tale face and read 
 the bitter disappointment she was feeling. If 
 he had only expressed some regret at going! 
 Just a few words would have comforted her 
 so much ! But then he had spoken cheerily 
 of coming back, and alluded to their yacht- 
 ing excursion — that showed how much he 
 had kept her in his mind. A grain of hope 
 is enough to keep a hungry love alive, and
 
 228 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 she gathered up all the crumbs that had 
 been scattered through the last few weeks 
 of their intimacy, and they formed quite a 
 goodly heap in her mind's eye ; and her heart, 
 which had beaten so tumultuously a few 
 moments ago, settled down to its old pulsa- 
 tion when they drove up to the Eectory 
 door. As he lifted her from the dog-cart, 
 she fancied he gave an extra pressure to 
 her hand as he said — 
 
 '^We have had a pleasant drive, haven't 
 we ? But you look a little tired — are you ? " 
 
 " Not at all," she answered, his tone of 
 solicitude jarring upon her nerves, she 
 hardly knew why; **I could have driven 
 for hours longer." 
 
 He tied his mare to the gate, as there was 
 no one near to take charge of it, and followed 
 her into the house. Mr. and Mrs. Spencer 
 were down the village on their usual round of 
 inspection, but were expected every minute.
 
 MIRIAM IN TBOUBLE. 229 
 
 " I will wait," said Jack. *' I must have 
 a few words with your father before I 
 leave." 
 
 What could he have to say to her father? 
 She glanced up in his face — it was inscru- 
 table. He walked to the window, and stared 
 out over the fields in a preoccupied way ; 
 she sat down and played nervously with her 
 gloves. 
 
 *' Mr. Swayne," she said, softly. 
 
 At the sound of his name he turned and 
 threw himself into a chair by her side, and 
 looked at her with responsive inquiry. 
 
 '* Could you — would you mind telling me 
 what you want to say to papa ? " 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
 ^^ He might not approve, you see, and 
 then what should I do ? " 
 
 **But he would — I am sure he would!" 
 she exclaimed, a rosy flush suffusing her 
 cheek, and a light sparkling in her eyes.
 
 230 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 *' Is it — is it anything about vie ? " she added, 
 with alluring sweetness. 
 
 ''Why, yes!" he answered; "but how 
 came you to guess that ? " She dropped her 
 eyes and said nothing. '' If I can get your 
 father's consent, I hope I shall have yours. 
 I know it is a good deal to ask a girl to 
 leave home on such short notice, and I'm 
 afraid you'll be rather dull up there." 
 
 '' Up where ? " inquired Miriam, getting 
 rather befogged. 
 
 '' Didn't I tell you ? Well you see, we, 
 my uncle and I, are afraid Clarice will be 
 rather dull when I am gone. I help to 
 keep things lively, you know. She is in low 
 spirits, and we think if you would go up and 
 spend a week at the Manor House, it would 
 cheer her up." 
 
 Before Miriam had time to recover her 
 fluctuating senses her parents drove up to 
 the door, and hearing their voices in the
 
 MIRIAM IN TROUBLE. 231 
 
 hall, Jack went out to greet them. They 
 were always cordiality itself to any member 
 of the Manor House family, but Jack was a 
 special favourite. They stood a few minutes 
 exchanging the usual civilities, and on the 
 trio betaking themselves to the drawing- 
 room Miriam had disappeared. Jack soon 
 broached the subject of his visit, which was 
 to say ^^Au revoir,'' and beg them to allow 
 Miriam to pay a week's visit to the Manor 
 House, when, he assured them, both his 
 uncle and Clarice would do all in their 
 power to make the visit agreeable. They 
 were certain of that, and sure that Miriam 
 would have much pleasure in accepting the 
 invitation. Mrs. Spencer waxed hospitable, 
 and offered him tea ; her husband, still more 
 hospitably inclined, pressed him to stay to 
 dinner. But Jack's eye caught the look of 
 dismay on the lady's face as she ran over 
 the resources of the larder, and doubted if
 
 232 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 it would hold out against this additional 
 onslaught; her anxiety was relieved by 
 Jack's prompt refusal. 
 
 On entering her daughter's room, about 
 an hour after Jack's departure, she was 
 astonished to find that Miriam had flung 
 herself upon her bed and was weeping 
 bitterly. 
 
 *' Why, Miriam, my dear child ! what on 
 earth is the matter ? " 
 
 ^* Nothing, mamma," exclaimed Miriam, 
 startled at her mother's unexpected coming. 
 
 ^^ Nothing!" echoed Mrs. Spencer, with 
 incredulous emphasis. 
 
 " I mean, nothing particular," replied 
 Miriam, with a watery ghost of a smile. 
 *^ I — I'm overtired I think, and a little 
 
 nervous." 
 
 ^' Nervous ! fiddlestick ! " repeated Mrs. 
 Spencer, still more incredulously. '^ Our 
 family have never been afilicted with nerves;
 
 MIBIAM IN TBOUBLE. 233 
 
 and the idea of your setting up such, things 
 is simply ridiculous ! " 
 
 However, she looked rather anxiously 
 at Miriam's pale face and swollen eyes, 
 while she ran over in her mind every 
 possible disease that came with those 
 symptoms. 
 
 ** It has been a very sudden seizure, my 
 dear child," she added, feeling her pulse 
 and her hot hands sympathetically. '* I'm 
 afraid you are sickening for something 
 dreadful. A stitch in time saves nine-^I'll 
 send for Dr. Parkes at once." 
 
 ^* Please don't. Mamma; indeed I'm not 
 ill — not sickening for anything. If you will 
 leave me alone for a little while I shall be 
 all right." 
 
 The idea of Mrs. Spencer letting anybody 
 alone, while there was a chance of getting 
 anything out of them by a system of in- 
 quisitorial worry ! As soon would a dog
 
 234 JiV SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 leave worrying a bone or a cat a mouse 
 while there was a pulse of life in it ! She 
 sat down, looking puzzled and bewildered, 
 watching Miriam as she bathed her eyes 
 and smoothed her disordered hair. She 
 was not going to be shut out of her daugh- 
 ter's confidence, while there was a crevice 
 through which she could creep into it. The 
 possibility of a young nature having any 
 secret sacred thoughts or feelings never 
 entered her mind ; to her there was nothing 
 sacred outside the Bible. Her inquisitorial 
 process drew nothing from Miriam but 
 silence and fresh falling tears. She probed 
 her on every side. At last a light seemed 
 slowly to break upon her. She gazed at 
 Miriam with wondering astonishment as 
 she said — 
 
 '*Why, Miriam, child! — but it is im- 
 possible, it can't be!" Then she added, 
 disgusted with accents, ** Surely you are
 
 MIBIAM IN TROUBLE. 235 
 
 not crying because that young man's going 
 away ! " Could any girl plead guilty to such 
 an accusation? 
 
 '' Don't say that, Mamma ! " said Miriam, 
 deprecatingly ; '4f you knew how it hurt me, 
 you wouldn't." 
 
 ^' You had better confide in me, and tell 
 me all about it. I thought no good would 
 come of your intimacy up there. But it is a 
 wicked world ! How far have things gone 
 between you ? It is most dishonourable of 
 a man to entangle a young woman without 
 her parent's knowledge ! " she added, her 
 wrath rising on her daughter's silence. ** I 
 will speak to your father; he shall go up 
 to the Manor House and have things put 
 straight. I'll have no crooked dealings 
 with my family ! Though we are Chris- 
 tians, we can't submit to be trampled on." 
 Then struck by a sudden thought, she added, 
 ** And who knows but their handsome sub-
 
 236 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 scriptions maybe some devil's bait ! But I'll 
 soon find out." 
 
 Miriam struck in, in great alarm — 
 
 ** Oh, Mamma ! Mamma ! Don't speak 
 of such dreadful things ! I should die of 
 shame. There is not, there never has been, 
 anything between me and Mr. Swayne." 
 
 ^ ' And do you mean to say that you have 
 fallen so low as — as to be in love with a man 
 without any encouragement ? why, that's 
 worse and worse ! A daughter of mine — ■ 
 brought up on my own principles too ! I 
 declare it is quite shocking ; you can't be iii 
 your right mind ! " 
 
 ^* Nobody is ever always quite right in 
 everything," murmured Miriam. 
 
 ^' Don't talk in that heathenish way," 
 retorted her mother; '^no proper well-regu- 
 lated mind ever allows itself to go wrong. 
 Well, I've always heard that women are 
 weak creatures, but I never thought a child
 
 MIRIAM IN TliOUBLE. 237 
 
 of mine would be accused of weakness ; but 
 if you take all the blame on yourself, and 
 assure me that he has made no advance, 
 never said anything " 
 
 ** He never has," exclaimed Miriam, 
 anxious to do justice to the unconscious 
 Jack ; '' but — I think — he sometimes looked 
 as though he wanted to ! " 
 
 ^^ Bah ! if a man wants to say a thing, he 
 generally says it ! " 
 
 ** Jemima ! Jemima!" sounded the 
 Eector's voice, calling up the stairs. 
 
 '^ Oh stop. Mamma ! " exclaimed Miriam, 
 as Mrs. Spencer was about to hurry out in 
 answer to his call. " Don't say anything to 
 vex papa ; indeed there is no need." 
 
 ^' I wouldn't say anything to him for all 
 the world," answered Mrs. Spencer solemnly; 
 ** he would be too much horrified and dis- 
 tressed, and I don't know where the end of 
 it would be." Her portentous, melancholy
 
 238 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 tone roused Miriam's spirit at last, and she ex- 
 claimed, with a touch of anger in her voice — 
 
 ^^ There has been no beginning; and I 
 don't see why you should talk in such a way, 
 as though some one had done some dreadful 
 thing. There is no wrong anywhere. If you 
 had not surprised me, you would never have 
 known whether I have any heart, any feeling 
 or not. Surely there can be no harm in 
 thinking well of, and caring a little for, a 
 good, true man, whom one has — seen — so 
 much of" — and Miriam nearly broke down 
 again. 
 
 *' There are two kinds of good — good and 
 good-for-nothing ; and most men belong to 
 the good-for-nothing class." 
 
 " Jemima 1 Jemima ! " called the im- 
 patient Eector again. 
 
 '' There, my dear, dry your eyes," she 
 added, patting the girl's cheek and giving it 
 an affectionate peck — her nearest approach
 
 MIBIAM IN TROUBLE. 239 
 
 to a caress ; ''I am not angry. I think you 
 can't be well; you're feverish. Say your 
 prayers ; and you shall go through a little 
 course of medicine, and you'll soon get over 
 this folly. These things have a great deal 
 to do with the liver." 
 
 With this last scrap of consolation, she 
 departed. Nevertheless she was feeling 
 greatly exercised in mind to find the least 
 crack in the Spencerian armour ! That 
 there should be any fallibility in the family 
 was a shock and a surprise to her ; and 4:hat 
 that fallibility should break out on Miriam's 
 side — Miriam, who had been cut out on her 
 own pattern, nourished on her own prin- 
 ciples — was the greatest surprise of all.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AFTER A STORM. 
 
 AFTER spending a few hours in con- 
 sidering the situation fairly from all 
 points of view, Jack decided that it would 
 be wisest and best in all ways that he should 
 leave the Manor House for a time, till they 
 — his uncle, Clarice, and himself — had grown 
 accustomed to the changed state of affairs ; 
 his absence would relieve them all from 
 temporary constraint and embarrassment. 
 While they were all three under one roof, 
 meeting and mingling their daily lives to- 
 gether, the ghost of the old long-cherished 
 hope would stir in their hearts — it would
 
 AFTER A STOBM, 241 
 
 not be laid beyond the pale of resuscitation. 
 Although he knew it was dead, and could no 
 more be raised to life than could the dead 
 lying fathoms deep beneath the sea, yet he 
 could not persuade his uncle to that effect. 
 The old man clung to his cherished idea 
 with obstinate pertinacity in the face of the 
 most adverse facts ; it had grown so deep- 
 rooted in his heart as to be a part of him- 
 self, and he could no more tear it out than 
 you could tear up the roots of an old tree, 
 without killing the tree itself. Althou?gh 
 Jack had explained things in the plainest 
 and most decided manner, taking upon him- 
 self the chief blame of crossing his uncle's 
 will, rather than laying the burden on 
 Clarice's shoulders, Mr. Fleming shook his 
 head impatiently, unbelievingly. 
 
 *^ Things might be a little crooked just 
 now, but something would happen some 
 day to show Clarice what was good for her. 
 
 VOL. !• 17
 
 242 7.Y SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 Meanwhile, there need be no hurry ; of 
 course Jack could run away as he proposed, 
 for a few months, and then come back and 
 see how things were then." 
 
 By no means, by no argument, could the 
 old man be brought to loose his hold from 
 the one fixed point, viz., that his favourite 
 sister's son and the daughter of the one 
 woman who had made all life's light for him 
 should become man and wife, to have and 
 to hold one common inheritance, and unite 
 the wandering currents of two lives in one, 
 thence to flow on through generations yet 
 unborn in peace and love — knitting up the 
 unravelled and broken past into a perfect 
 pattern outspread in the future. It was a 
 romantic craze, harmless enough so long as 
 it was self-indulged, only dangerous when 
 engaged upon the strong endeavour to draw 
 together two natures which were set in 
 opposite directions ; and then dangerous to
 
 AFTER A ST OEM. 243 
 
 a degree that neither could realize till the 
 hour of trial should come. However, for 
 the present all was amicably arranged — the 
 long morning conference had settled that. 
 Jack was to start as soon as possible, the 
 very next da}^ indeed — as he had informed 
 Miriam Spencer. But of course he must 
 have an interview with Clarice before he 
 started; he would see her that evening if 
 possible. 
 
 On reaching home his first inquiry was 
 for Clarice. *' How was she ? and had she 
 left her room yet ? " Yes, but she had 
 kept in her room till nearly five o'clock, and 
 then took a sudden resolution to go out for 
 a walk. *^ Is my uncle with her ? " he in- 
 quired, his brow contracting to a frown. 
 ^* No ; she was gone before any one even 
 knew that she was going, and left word with 
 Hans." For a moment he was inclined to 
 be angry that she had been allowed to go
 
 244 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 out on such a day alone, especially as she 
 had heen disturbed and unwell ; then he 
 reflected that she was always erratic in her 
 movements, and no one of the household 
 could, of course, in the slightest degree 
 control her coming and going. Without 
 another word, he turned on his heel and 
 went in search of her. 
 
 It was already dusk, and a drizzling rain 
 was beginning to fall. Which way had she 
 gone ? He pondered for a moment, and 
 then decided that it was most likely she 
 had gone down to the shore ; she loved the 
 sea in all its changing moods : no doubt he- 
 should find her there now, her restless spirit,, 
 perhaps, growing calmer in contemplating 
 the more restless weaves. Thither he bent, 
 his steps, casting searching glances round 
 him as he went along. Presently, about, 
 half a mile from home, he fancied he saw 
 something light moving among the trees..
 
 AFTER A STORM. ^45 
 
 He hurried towards it ; he soon discovered 
 that it was a woman's skirts, and, on a still 
 nearer approach, that the woman was Clarice 
 herself. She was standing still now; in 
 another moment he was standing by her 
 side. She looked up in his face, laughed 
 quietly as she said — 
 
 ^* I knew you were coming — that's why I 
 stood still. I could have led you a nice 
 dance if I had liked, for I can run faster 
 than you." 
 
 ** How did you know I was coming ? — y(5u 
 couldn't have seen me, for I came up from 
 behind. I trod lightly lest I might frighten 
 
 yon." 
 
 '' My heart heard you, I think. We often 
 hear and see in a strange, mysterious way, 
 without the use of either eyes or ears ; don't 
 you ? " 
 
 '*I think, Clarice dear, you give your 
 'mind's eye' too much liberty," replied
 
 240 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 Jack; ^' and I am sure we had better make 
 haste to get home. You must be mad to 
 go wandenng through the wet woods on 
 such a day as this — and in those flimsy rags 
 too," he added, glancing at her Hght 
 dress. 
 
 *^ Don't call my pretty dress a 'flimsy 
 rag,'" she answered; " and don't be cross, 
 please, Jack dear!" she added coaxingly. 
 ''I've been think — think — thinking in the 
 house all day, till I felt stifled — as though 
 the walls would fall in and crush me. I 
 was obliged to come out. I can breathe 
 now; the soft winds and the rain have done 
 me good. You know the weather never 
 hurts me. If there had been a storm of 
 thunder and lightning I should have revelled 
 in it." 
 
 " Come, let us hurry on, dear girl, and 
 revel by the fireside ; that will be the best 
 revelling for you. And — I want to talk to
 
 AFTER A STOBM. 24.7 
 
 you — there is something I wish to say to 
 you." 
 
 " I shall be glad," she answered, half- 
 breathlessly, as he hurried her along so fast 
 in his anxiety to get her out of the damp 
 air, holding up the dripping branches for her 
 to pass under. Presently, as they neared 
 the house, glancing with a look of anxious 
 inquiry into his face, she said — 
 
 " Jack, have you spoken to father yet — 
 about — about what we talked of last night ? " 
 
 '' Yes ; I explained the situation fully to 
 him," answered Jack. 
 
 *' And is he angry ? " she inquired. " The 
 dear old dad ! I can't bear to vex him." 
 
 '' You need not be disturbed in the 
 slightest degree," he answered, reassuringly ; 
 " he'll never say a word to you upon the 
 subject — I don't suppose he'll ever allude 
 to it." 
 
 " Ah ! but I shall know by his face if he
 
 248 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 is feeling badly. It is not what he says, 
 but what he feels, I care about," she said. 
 
 '^ There, run away and change your wet 
 clothes ! " he exclaimed, as they entered 
 the house. " Come down again as soon as 
 you can ; " we have not too much time to 
 spare, for I must leave to-morrow. There, 
 not a word till you have changed your 
 things. I'll wait for you in the morning- 
 room." 
 
 The process of changing did not take her 
 very long ; in the course of a few minutes 
 she came down again. She had thrown on 
 a negligee wrapper of pale blue, arranged 
 with clouds of creamy lace ; her beautiful 
 golden hair, smoothed back with a band of 
 blue ribbon, tumbled in a mass of graceful 
 coils and curls about her shoulders. A flush 
 of excitement was on her cheeks and in her 
 eyes as she hurried forward, laid her hand 
 upon his shoulder, and said—
 
 AFTER A STORM, 249 
 
 - '' Is it true, Jack ! Are you really going 
 away — at once ? " 
 
 He thought he had never seen her look 
 so lovely ; her touch thrilled him through, 
 and her face, in eager inquiry, was lifted so 
 near to his, he could feel the perfume of her 
 breath upon his cheek ; his eyes clung to 
 her, and his heart yearned over her. He was 
 seized w^ith a double impulse — the one was 
 to shake her from him in despair, the other 
 was to clasp the sweet lithe form in. his 
 arms and never let her go ; but he mastered 
 that impulse, and with compressed lips kept 
 himself well in hand. He released himself 
 gently from her touch and seated her on the 
 lounge, himself beside her. 
 
 "Yes," he said, in a matter-of-fact way, 
 " I'm going. I've been dawdling about a 
 long time. I couldn't leave you in all the 
 disorder of the move, you know ; but I 
 bught to be in town now. I've many little
 
 250 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 matters of business to look after — and, how- 
 ever much one may be tempted, it doesn't 
 do to neglect one's duties," he added, with 
 an imposing air, which, however, failed in 
 imposing either upon himself or her. Both 
 knew the key-note of his action, and both 
 ignored it. 
 
 ''Xo," said Clarice, "it doesn't do to 
 neglect things. Of course we shall miss you 
 dreadfully; but it is right you should go." 
 
 " Yes, it is right," he answered, with a 
 deep-drawn breath. 
 
 " And I wish you w^ould give up amusing 
 yourself. Jack," she added. "We always 
 hear so much of your going here, and going 
 there, and mixing in all sorts of gaieties ; but 
 we never hear of your doing, or thinking of 
 doing, anything." 
 
 " My dear girl, I've been thinking of 
 doing something all my life ! " he answered ; 
 *' sometime I dare say I shall go into action.'*
 
 AFTEB A STOBM. 251 
 
 " If you only would, Jack ! Father thinks 
 so much of you ; and if you could only make 
 a name in the world, he would be so proud. 
 And you could if you liked — you are clever 
 enough for anything; already you are a 
 barrister-at-law." 
 
 "Full fledged. I have gone through a 
 course of gluttony, and eaten my way to 
 that lofty eminence as a grub eats its way 
 to the heart of a cabbage." 
 
 " But, having got so far, you can surely 
 do something more," she added, eagerly. 
 " Go into court and make speeches ; I'm sure 
 you'd be able to talk and cross-examine, and 
 confuse and befog everybody, as well as the 
 greatest lawyer." 
 
 " No doubt I could," he answered ; " but 
 so far on my travels through life I have 
 never found a solicitor insane enough to 
 trust me with a brief. You see I labour 
 under one great disadvantage : I am naturally
 
 252 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 of a dilatory, ease-loving disposition, and 
 not being obliged to work, I lie idle and 
 bask in the sun. I consider that a com- 
 fortable competence is absolute ruin to an 
 intelligent man — none but fools ought to 
 be born with silver spoons in their mouths. 
 I quite share your lofty opinion of my capa- 
 bilities, and believe that if I had been taken 
 by the scruff of the neck, like a blind puppy, 
 and flung into the world's whirlpool, I should 
 have opened my eyes and struck out for the 
 shore." 
 
 " I never know how far you are joking or 
 how far you are serious, Jack," said Clarice ; 
 ** but I do know, and I am sure father agrees 
 with me, that no man ought to lead such an 
 idle life as — as you do. Even if a man is 
 rich enough to live without work, wealth 
 entails its obligations, and he ought to do 
 something, if not for the good of himself, 
 for the good of his country."
 
 AFTEB A STOBM. 253 
 
 '^ For the good of his country ! " echoed 
 Jack. '^Ah! now that sounds huportant. 
 Well, I don't suppose I shall ever be a 
 brilliant head-light to my country, but I'll 
 try — I really will try." 
 
 "Do," she rejoined, encouragingly; ''for 
 if things were to go wrong with you, I 
 should reproach myself for having done 
 something towards spoiling your life." 
 
 " No true man allows his life to be spoilt 
 by a woman. No offence — but you know you 
 are a woman, Clary ! " 
 
 '' A woman — yes ; but how I wish I were 
 a man ! " she answered. 
 
 "Do you? Well, a woman is never 
 satisfied; if you were a man, you'd soon 
 wish to be something or somebod}^ else." 
 
 " Perhaps ! " she exclaimed, reflectively. 
 " If I could choose, I should like to be 
 something that can neither tJdnh nor feel.'' 
 
 "An octopus, or a jelly-fish, eh?" he
 
 254 JN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 suggested, looking down upon the lovely 
 face ; and in dread lest lie should be betrayed 
 into sentimental wanderings, he rushed into 
 the opposite direction, and got as far as 
 possible away from any tender or emotional 
 utterance. *^ I am afraid, as we can't choose 
 the casing for our immortal souls, you will 
 have to get along to the end of this world 
 as a mere woman ; in the next, matters may 
 be arranged more to the general satis- 
 faction." 
 
 ^' Ah, the next ! " she sighed ; '' but it is 
 such a long, weary while before w^e get there. 
 Jack, and the travelhng here is through such 
 hard and stony ways. I should like to go 
 to sleep lierey and wake up and find myself 
 there in the morning." 
 • ** I fancy we all have rather a hankering 
 after the impossible," replied Jack. '' For my 
 part, I regard this world as a place for pre- 
 liminaries, where we work hard for honours,
 
 AFTER A STORM. 255 
 
 and take our degree on the higher planes of 
 the next ; meanwhile it is well to be content 
 in our wanderings here — contentment is a 
 great virtue." 
 
 ^' Is it?" she answered. ''J think con- 
 tent is the poorest and most miserable of all 
 the virtues. Why every well-fed beast is 
 content ; the very ass browsing on his meal 
 of thistles is the picture of a beautiful con- 
 tent ! " 
 
 ^'If he is a wise ass, he is," exclaimed 
 Jack, ''because he has no chance of getting 
 anything better. AVe should do well to 
 follow his example." 
 
 ''I don't think so," said Clarice. ''If 
 people were content with things as they 
 are, nobody would ever try to make them 
 better. Why every improvement, and all 
 the progress the world has ever made, is 
 due to the discontent of some special set of 
 people "
 
 256 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Fleming broke in 
 upon their interview, entering the room 
 with rather an anxious expression of face. 
 
 ^^ You are just in time to save me, Uncle," 
 exclaimed Jack, genially. * ' Clarice is trying 
 to entangle me in a philosophical discussion, 
 and I know her wits will so far outstrip 
 mine I shall be lost." 
 
 The cloud cleared from the old man's 
 face ; he was delighted to find them con- 
 versing in so amicable a spirit, with no 
 cloud or the least constraint between them ;. 
 and so far from showing any vexation to- 
 wards Clarice, which she had feared he 
 might do, he was, if possible, more tender 
 than ever to her. He had been fretting 
 about her and things generally all the day^ 
 and it was a great relief to find her looking 
 like her best self. The order of things seemed 
 to be suddenly changed, and having once 
 left the seclusion of her room, she did not
 
 AFTEB A STOBM. 257 
 
 return to it, but came down to dinner 
 dressed with even more care than usual, 
 with a bunch of purple violets on her breast 
 and in her hair — Jack's favourite flowers. 
 She was more charming and in brighter 
 spirits than ever. It might be that she was 
 too troubled to allow play to her natural 
 feelings, and masked her real agitation of 
 spirit beneath an assumption of gaiety which 
 she was very far from feeling. It often 
 happens that smiles are on the lips while 
 tears lie heavy on the heart. 
 
 She seemed to bring the whole battery 
 of her charms to bear upon, and endeavour 
 to break down, the outworks of fortitude and 
 resolve behind which Jack had entrenched 
 himself. If she had been the most ac- 
 complished coquette she could not have 
 used her fascinations more dexterously; 
 whereas, she was really too innocent to be 
 actuated by any coquettishness whatever: 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 258 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 she only seemed gay, and carried the seem- 
 ing to excess to save herself from breaking 
 down altogether. Jack entered into her 
 humour thoroughly, though he was not at 
 all deceived by her poor little affectations ; 
 he quite comprehended her real state of 
 mind, and appreciated her endeavour to 
 make these, his last hours at home, pass 
 pleasantly, with no visible restraint nor 
 painful episodes. He felt sorry for her, 
 sorry for his own bitterly disappointed 
 hopes, but no grain of anger against her. 
 Altogether she made his going away a 
 festive occasion, rather than one of regret. 
 She retired early to bed, evidently tired 
 and overwrought, for there were dark circles 
 round her eyes, and the corners of her 
 mouth drooped painfully. As he watched 
 her slowly ascending the stairs, he felt she 
 was carrying the Hght of the world away 
 with her.
 
 AFTEB A STOBM. 259 
 
 He departed the next morning with no 
 more leave- taking, no more last words. It 
 was best so, for last words are unsatisfactory 
 things ; all had been said that need be said. 
 So far all was well. 
 
 The proposed visit of Miss Spencer to the 
 Manor House fell through, as might have 
 been expected, as Jack's informal invitation 
 had not been supplemented by any urgency 
 on Clarice's part, and Mrs. Spencer threw 
 cold water on the idea. 
 
 The days passed on ; the absence of Hugh, 
 so speedily followed by that of Jack, com- 
 pletely changed the aspect of life at the 
 Manor House — indeed, of Penally generally. 
 The brisk intimacy between the young people 
 seemed to flag somehow; it needed the 
 masculine element to keep it stirring and 
 strong. Sometimes it showed signs of dying 
 out altogether. Where there are no warm 
 sympathies, it needs some exertion to keep
 
 260 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 even a weakly friendship alive. Thus it 
 happened that Clarice and Mr. Fleming 
 were more closely allied than ever, for their 
 constant companionship had heen tem- 
 porarily broken by the influx of young 
 people — which was quite natural ; now they 
 gradually fell back into their old ways. 
 
 They wandered about the garden, planning 
 and directing the manifold improvements 
 and alterations, superintending the erection 
 of new greenhouses, the making of forcing- 
 beds, etc., w^atching with great interest the 
 things that were growing under their own 
 eyes. They would take long rambles 
 through the woods, over the hills, or along 
 the shore ; he endeavouring to train her in 
 his way of thought, and imbue her with 
 his love of research, from small matters 
 deducing great arguments. She always 
 received his teaching with profound re- 
 spect, but little understanding. Like most
 
 AFTER A STORM. 2G1 
 
 scientific men, lie used big words for small 
 matters, which confused rather than en- 
 lightened her mind; still she grew more 
 and more interested in his pursuits. This 
 might arise from the absence of any other 
 mode of excitement. His attempts to train 
 and teach her in the regular scientific mode 
 failed miserably; but when he dropped 
 technicalities, and talked in a pleasant 
 gossipy kind of way, she was interested and 
 instructed at the same time. In one of 
 their ramblings through the woods they 
 came upon a wide pond or pool, partially 
 overgrown with weeds and long rank grasses, 
 where myriads of tiny atoms were swimming, 
 crawling, or darting hither and thither upon 
 the muddy banks or in the stagnant water. 
 It was a wild, weird spot, with tall trees 
 and tangles of green luxuriant branches 
 stretching over and interlacing above it, 
 lying out of sight far from the woodland
 
 2G2 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 path ; so lonesome and out of the way, 
 indeed, one could easily imagine some 
 ghastly crime lying silent and dumb beneath 
 the dark mysterious waters. In fact, some 
 tradition thereof lingered among the old 
 folk of the neighbourhood, but it was too 
 far away to be talked or thought much of — 
 things fade away from the memory as a 
 reflection fades from a looking-glass. 
 
 ^' What a damp, disagreeable place, father 
 dear," exclaimed Clarice, holding up her 
 skirts and peeping through the branches as 
 he went downwards towards the pool. 
 
 ''It is not an attractive place," he 
 answered, " but I am seeking for one of 
 the wonders of nature, and it is here I 
 hope to find it." In the course of a few 
 minutes he came back to her with some- 
 thing swimming about in his green glass 
 bottle. 
 
 " Why, it is nothing but a nasty mean
 
 . AFTER A STORM. 2G3 
 
 little ngly tadpole ! " exclaimed Clarice, 
 inspecting it with disgust. 
 
 ^' It is one of the wonders of .nature, my 
 dear child," he answered. ^^I have got it 
 expressly for you, that you may w^atch with 
 your own eyes this mud fish, this limp, 
 honeless, gill-breathing bit of animation, 
 develope into a perfect terrestrial creature, 
 with heart and lungs, brain and bones, wdth 
 sharp eyes and four swift, restless legs ; in 
 fact, you may watch this miserable little 
 fish change to the lively frog ! Why, the 
 legerdemain and magic tricks of Messrs. 
 Maskelyne and Cook, which people flock 
 to see and wonder at, are nothing compared 
 with this miracle of nature, which takes 
 place every minute of every day, in every 
 muddy pond or pool, under our own eyes, 
 without waking a wonder or a thought ! 
 Yet it is in contemplating these small 
 things we may read the great lesson of
 
 2G4 IX SIGHT OF LAND, 
 
 evolution throughout the whole world of 
 nature, of which man is the most godlike 
 production. I can't understand how people 
 can watch the little crawling caterpillar 
 change into the bright beautiful butterfly, 
 and doubt that they themselves have 
 evolved from some other inferior creature ! 
 The law of the universe, from the mighty 
 suns and stars in heaven to the tiniest 
 thing that creeps or grows on earth, is one 
 of constant progression, and why should 
 man suppose that he alone stands aloof, 
 exempt from this one great general law ? 
 It takes perhaps a few wrecks, or months, or 
 days, to perfect an inferior creature; while it 
 has taken millions and millions of years to 
 produce perfect man, at present the highest 
 and noblest type of creation." 
 
 ^' I don't think — I don't care about other 
 creatures ! " exclaimed Clarice ; " but I like 
 to think that tue were made in the image of
 
 , AFTEB A ST OEM. 205 
 
 our Creator, and sent down fresh from the 
 hand of God, to Hve in an earthly paradise 
 for awhile till we are called back to 
 Him." 
 
 *' Like ma,ny older and wiser folk than 
 yourself, my child," he answered, *' you 
 would rather hug a pleasant fiction than 
 face a solemn fact. Well, if it makes you 
 happy, I suppose it is all right : those who 
 are earnest in their search for truth are not 
 so easily satisfied." 
 
 So the days passed on. Although thei'e 
 was no bright sunshine in the moral 
 atmosphere of the Manor House, nor any 
 outward excitements, there was no mternal 
 commotion ; life glided on in a serene, quiet 
 fashion, as though time greased its wheels 
 that none might see how stealthily it was 
 stealing away the days and hours, so quickly 
 and imperceptibly the days glided by, as 
 only uneventful days do pass. It is the 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 266 IN SIGHT OF LAND. 
 
 stirring, joyous time, full of events and 
 flushed with triumph, that swells and 
 lengthens the passing hour, and makes us 
 feel that we have lived a lifetime in a single 
 day. And yet during these calmer hours 
 which we count as nothing, the wheels 
 of the gods are grinding slowly ; the in- 
 visible hands of the three weird sisters 
 are weaving our destiny, tracing the paths 
 that we must travel, whether we will or no. 
 
 END OF VOL. r. 
 
 UMWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, CHILWORTH AND LONDON.


 
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