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 Digitized by the Internet Arcinive 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/kitmemory01payn
 
 K I T 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW NOVELS AT EVERY LIBRARY. 
 
 ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN : an 
 
 Impossible Story. By Walter Besant. Illustrated by 
 Fred. Barnard. 3 vols, crown 8vo. 
 
 VALENTINA: a Sketch. By Eleanor C. Price. 
 
 2 vols, crown 8vo. 
 
 KEPT IN THE DARK. By Anthony Trollope. 
 
 With a Frontispiece by J. E. Millais, R.A. 2 vols. 
 post 8vo. 
 
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 David Christie Murray, Author of 'Joseph's Coat' &c. 
 
 3 vols, crown Svo. 
 
 THE GOLDEN SHAFT. By Charles Gibbon, 
 
 Author of ' Robin Gray ' &c. 3 vols, crown Svo. 
 
 GIDEON FLEYCE. By Henry W. Lucy. 3 vols. 
 
 crown Svo. 
 
 REGIMENTAL LEGENDS. By J. S. Winter. 
 
 3 vols, crown Svo. 
 
 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. By R. Louis Stevenson. 
 
 I vol. crown Svo. 
 
 CHATTO &> WIND US, PICCADILLY, W.
 
 KIT: A MEMORY 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES PAYN 
 
 author of • lost sir massixgberd by proxy high spirits 
 'under one roof' *a grape from a thorn' etc. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1883 
 
 [A/i rights reserved]
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STKEET SQUARE 
 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 yv THE FIKST VOLUME. 
 
 3 
 
 Ijf CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 fc I. Beneath the Castle Walls ... 1 
 
 II. A Confidence 18 
 
 -^ III. The Knoll 37 
 
 , IV. The Family Baege 53 
 
 ^ V. At the Dovecote 75 
 
 ^ VI. The Searchers 93 
 
 ^ VII. The ' Tusk ' . . . . • .102 
 
 ^VIII. The Two Counsellors . . . . 126 
 
 r 
 
 ^ XL Lucy Deeds 179 
 
 J- 
 
 «^ IX. An Interrupted Game . . . .152 
 ^ X. In the Boudoir 165
 
 •/i CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CnAPTF.}? PAGE 
 
 XII. * I MEAN TO HAVE JUSTICE ' . . .193 
 
 XIII. Kit has a bad Quarter of an Hour. 209 
 
 XIV. The Magistrate 226 
 
 XY. Foiled §42 
 
 XVI. An Unselfish Ally .... 260 
 
 XVII. Hart-leap Hill 281 
 
 XVIII. An Appeal 303
 
 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BE>T:ATn THE CASTLE W.AXLS. 
 
 Between the Paver Trenna and the sea hes 
 (not stands) Trenarvon Castle, built by the 
 Cornish Constantine (as the last King of 
 Britain of that line was called) more than 
 fifteen hundred years ago. 
 
 Many a vanished year and age 
 
 And tempest s breath and battle's rage 
 
 have tried its stren^rth in vain ; and, though 
 compelled to yield, in that unequal combat 
 in which stone walls no less than man must 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 at last succumb, it still in a manner keeps 
 the field. The ancient keep is but ^ a heap of 
 fragments of an earlier world ; ' the later draw- 
 bridge has disappeared ; the very fosse has lost 
 its depth and shape, and become a wilderness 
 of wood and wildflower ; but the stubborn pile 
 possesses still some of its ancient features, which 
 to the antiquarian eye at least are recognisable. 
 It was a fortress yet, and, garrisoned by an un- 
 disciplined but loyal band, held out with pike 
 and culverin for the King in the Civil War, 
 wherein it lost all but honour. It was levelled 
 (with much more) by the Puritans, since which 
 no banner has waved from its rocky steep, no 
 watchword echoed from its ruined walls. 
 
 But, though its greatness has departed, its 
 beauty remains. Unlike its once proud masters, 
 decay, though it has destroyed, has not cor- 
 rupted it ; nay, has enhanced its majesty, if not
 
 BENEATH THE CASTLE WALLS. 3 
 
 its beauty. Tlie few grey hairs that palsy stirs 
 upon the head of age, and which in man we 
 pitifully call his 'glory,' the trembling limbs 
 that hardly serve to bear him to the wished-for 
 grave, have here no parallel. The lichen and 
 grey moss efface the ravages that time has 
 wrought upon the crumbhng pile ; the ivy 
 binds its broken ruins together, and hides its 
 scars, or crowns them with eternal green ; and 
 in every cleft and crevice through the summer 
 long, the wild rose and the wall-flower swing 
 their incense over this shrine of Time, and fill 
 the air with sweetness. 
 
 It is summer now, and there is scarce a 
 breath of wind to bend the bluebells, or sway 
 the feathery ferns that nestle in the under- 
 growth that clothes Penarvon liill. There is 
 not a sound save the plaintive cry of the seagull, 
 as it slides through the cloudless l^lue, and the 
 
 b2
 
 4 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 low mysterious speech of ocean, heard by the 
 Cornish Constantine, but untranslated still. 
 
 Amid such scenes, and in such silence, man 
 himself is wont to speak but little, and in a 
 low key ; Nature, with her finger on her lip, 
 impresses him with a certain awe of her ; at all 
 events the three young men whom I see in my 
 mind's eye to-day, reclining on the Castle slopes, 
 converse only in hushed tones, and at intervals. 
 The eldest of them to look at (though he is not 
 really so) is Christopher Garston, commonly 
 called Kit ' for love and euphony ' ; a tall and 
 well-made young fellow of some two-and- 
 twenty, with bright black eyes, and a smile 
 so pleasant that few men, and no woman, 
 could, one would think, easily withstand it, 
 though a physiognomist might pronounce it 
 
 ' too eager. 
 
 The otherwise great intelhgence of his
 
 BENEATH THE CASTLE WALLS. 5 
 
 expression is curiously interfered witli by a 
 certain look of pleasurable expectation (like 
 that of a popular actor who is awaitini^ 
 ' bravos '), and if a phrenologist should examine 
 his head he would probably pronounce the 
 ' love of approbation ' to be too strongly 
 marked ; but this by no means interferes with 
 his good looks. He is smoking a cigar, but 
 even the soothing influence of tobacco has no 
 power to still the restlessness that is habitual to 
 him. His eyes rove over land and sea, or fix 
 themselves on his two companions for a minute 
 or two, and then away again, and his thoughts 
 are wandering further still. 
 
 In this respect he is a great contrast to 
 Frank Meade, his senior by a year or two, who 
 lies prpne beside him with his eyes fixed on the 
 sky. His frame is gigantic, he seems born for 
 force and action ; but not a muscle of him stirs.
 
 6 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 The smoke ascends from his huge meerschaum, 
 so that there must needs be breath in him, but 
 otherwise he lies with his eyes closed, and quite 
 motionless, like a dead Hercules. His wide- 
 awake has fallen off, and the sun plays on his 
 bronzed face (which is, how^ever, by no means 
 so dark as Kit's), showing certain deep hues on 
 his forehead very unusual in a face so young 
 and comely. His nature is far from morose, 
 but when he reflects he frowns, and he is much 
 given to reflection. 
 
 The third of this little company (and the 
 hinge on which it turns) has little in common 
 with them as to appearance. Although junior 
 by a year or so to the youngest of his two 
 friends, and of that blonde and delicate com- 
 plexion which is youth's own wear, Mark 
 Medway looks an older man than either of 
 them. His height is less, and he is more
 
 BENEATH THE CASJLE WALLS. 7 
 
 slightly built, so that this look of comparative 
 maturity dwells in his face alone, which is 
 singularly grave and quiet ; his blue eyes are 
 half shut, not from hidolence, but because he 
 is near-sighted, and he is reading a book of 
 ancient date and indifferent type. 
 
 It is said that an excellent test of friendship 
 is the non-necessity for making conversation ; 
 that when Tom and Bob sit over the fire with- 
 out a word, and neither feels called upon to 
 speak, they are as Damon and Pythias ; on the 
 other hand, the case is not unknown where this 
 divine dumbness arises from neither party 
 having anything to say. In the present 
 instance, however, the proverb holds good ; 
 the three young men are quite at home in each 
 other's society, though Frank and Kit, perhaps, 
 are rather Damons to Mark's Pythias, than 
 Damon and Pythias to one another.
 
 8 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Presently, Mark, who is leaning against a 
 mossy stone, drops liis book upon his knee, and 
 bringing his spectacles down from his forehead 
 into their proper place, looks round about him, 
 and with a sigh half tender and half comical, 
 remarks ' Poor Faust, poor Faust ! ' 
 
 ' What is the matter with liim ? ' murmurs 
 the giant. 
 
 ' " My trusty and well-beloved friend," ' 
 quotes Medway (who has a marvellous 
 memory), ' " the cause why I have invited 
 you to this place is this ; forasmuch as you 
 have known me these many years what man- 
 ner of life I have lived ; practising all manner 
 
 of conjuration " ' 
 
 •' I say^ exclaims Meade, opening his large 
 grey eyes to the uttermost, * we are not going to 
 stand this, Kit. Why, this is Mark's own auto- 
 biography, which he is inflicting upon us under 
 pretence of improving our minds; for what is
 
 BENEATH THE CASTLE WALLS. 9 
 
 all his old-world knowledge, his antiquarianism, 
 his archeology, but a sort of black art ? ' 
 
 ' But the book says " conjuration," ' puts in 
 Kit with gravity, ' and Heaven knows our dear 
 Mark is no conjuror.' 
 
 ' When you have exhausted yourselves in 
 base comparisons,' replies the object of these 
 gibes (who has his Shakespeare, among the 
 ' old world ' authors, at his fingers' ends), ' I 
 will read you some more of it. It will be 
 better for Eat (Kit is a budding lawyer) than 
 weaving cobwebs for innocent flies, and for 
 Frank (Frank assists his father, the doctor, and 
 is training for the paternal profession) than 
 reminiscences from which conscience never 
 permits him to escape, of the victims of vivi- 
 section.' 
 
 ' What a flow of words ! How fearfully 
 eloquent he is ! ' exclaims Meade, with affected 
 admiration.
 
 lo KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' The very observation/ observed Kit, 
 ' which was made with respect to Quilp — by 
 Brass — when conversing about my namesake. 
 Eeally, Mark, I wouldn't stand it.' 
 
 'I don't care two pins for either of you,' 
 returns the student, beaming through his 
 spectacles at both with affectionate good nature ; 
 ' I am only thinking of poor Faust. " Now to 
 the end (he says to his sorrowing students) that 
 I might bring my purpose to pass to have the 
 Devil's aid and furtherance, v^hich I have yet 
 wanted in my actions, I have promised unto 
 him at the end and accomplishment of twenty- 
 four years both body and soul, to do therewith 
 his pleasure. This dismal day these twenty-four 
 years are fully expired ; and out of all doubt 
 this night he will fetch me to whom I have 
 given myself in recompense for his service, body 
 and soul, by writing in my proper blood. So,
 
 BENEATH THE CASTLE WALLS. ii 
 
 well-beloved friends and brethren, before that 
 fatal hour I take my farewell, beseecliing you, 
 if ever I have trespassed against your mind in 
 anything, that you will heartily forgive me. 
 And let this my lamentable end " ' 
 
 ' Stop, stop,' cried Christopher Garston, 
 rising to his feet and pacing the green sward 
 in nervous irritation ; ' I can't stand that.' 
 
 The supine giant opened his mouth in 
 wonder, while his pipe dropped out of it un- 
 noticed upon the grass. Mark settled his 
 spectacles upon his nose, and gazed upon his 
 excited friend in mild surprise. 
 
 ' I am sorry to make such a fool of myself,' 
 observed Kit presently ; ' but my nervous 
 centres, as Meade would say, are disorganised 
 — in plain English, I am all to pieces. The 
 history of Dr. Faustus is one of your best, as I 
 know it is one of your newest, books, my dear
 
 12 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Mark ; but you are not selecting the most 
 cheerful passages from it. Eead us about his 
 familiar spirits, whose appearance is so charm- 
 ingly described, though they afterwards become, 
 poor fellows, so much more familiar than 
 welcome/ 
 
 ' Very good,' returned Medway, reopening 
 the volume, and (as only your student can) at 
 once finding the proper place. '"First entered 
 Behal in the form of a bear, with curled black 
 hair to the ground ; his ears standing upright ; 
 within they were as red as blood, and out of 
 them hissed flames of fire ; his teeth were at 
 least a foot long and as white as snow, with a 
 tail three ells long, having two wings, one 
 behind each arm." ' 
 
 'There's word-painting for you,' shouted 
 Kit, excitedly. ' Beautiful ! ' 
 
 "'Lucifer himself,'" resumed the reader,
 
 BENEATH THE CASTLE WALLS. 13 
 
 ' '' sat in the manner of a man, all hairy, but of 
 brown colour like a squirrel, and his tail turn- 
 ing upwards on his back as the squirrel's used." 
 I think he could crack nuts, too, like a squm-el.' 
 
 ' There's no doubt of it,' exclaimed Garston 
 admiringly. ' A most accomphshed creature. 
 Pray go on.' 
 
 ' "After him came Beelzebub, in curled hair 
 of a horse-flesh colour ; his head like the head 
 of a bull, with a mighty pair of horns ; two 
 long ears down to the gTound " ' 
 
 ' A pretty touch,' interrupted Kit ; ' the 
 rabbit ! ' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ; let me complete the portrait,' 
 remonstrated Mark. ' " Out of his wings issued 
 flames of fire, and his tail was like a cow's." ' 
 
 ' If all that was on his passport one would 
 know him almost anywhere,' mused Eat ; while 
 the huge Meade shook with inward laughter.
 
 14 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Mark held up his hands for silence and 
 attention. 
 
 '"Then came Astaroth, in the form of a 
 worm, going upright on his tail, and had no 
 feet, but a tail like a glowworm ; under his 
 chaps grew two short hands '" 
 
 ' That's a stroke of genius,' interposed Kit ; 
 ' but it annoys our friend here as being a 
 practical anatomist.' 
 
 ' I really can't stand it,' cried Meade, 
 spluttering with laughter. ' It is the unction 
 with which Mark reads that destroys me. 
 One would think that it was his own com- 
 position.' 
 
 ' I wish it was,' observed the student with 
 simplicity. 'What modern writer could 
 compass such variety in personal description ! 
 Think of Cannogasta, " white and grey mixed, 
 exceedingly curled and hairy ; " or Anobis,
 
 BENEATH THE CASTLE WALLS, 15 
 
 with one foot under his throat and the other 
 at his tail ; " pleasant beast," as the old chro- 
 nicler calls him ' 
 
 ' Enough, enough,' roared the giant, waking 
 the echoes with inextinguishable mirth, while 
 Kit laughed with him fitfully, more, as it seemed, 
 at the other's enjoyment than from any tend- 
 ency to laughter on his own account ; a circum- 
 stance not without significance to one who 
 knew them, for Meade was a man not easily 
 moved to mirth, while Garston's high spirits 
 were proverbial. 
 
 Mark Med way watched them both without 
 the relaxation of a muscle. ' You seem to me,' 
 he plaintively remarked, ' to miss the beauties 
 of our author altogether, and only to note what 
 appears to you ridiculous. The whole narra- 
 tive, when viewed in the proper spirit, is most 
 sorrowful and pathetic. The reflection con-
 
 i6 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 cerning how Faust " forgot his soul, and also 
 thought — the word also is to my mind admirable 
 — that the Devil is not so black as he is painted, 
 nor Hades so hot as people say," might have 
 been written yesterday ; and then his lament- 
 able end ! But if you don't hke it, my dear 
 Kit, why then, of course, we will have no 
 more of it.' 
 
 ' Well, to say truth, I dont^ said Garston 
 frankly ; ' and since we are quite alone, and I 
 know the thing will go no further, I will tell 
 you why. The fact is, my friends, the story of 
 Dr. Faust is a little too personal.' 
 
 ' Personal ! ' gasped Medway. 
 
 Meade said nothing, but, raising himself on 
 his arm, regarded the speaker with surprise not 
 unmingled with suspicion. 
 
 ' Yes, I know Meade won't believe it,' con- 
 tinued Kit with peevish gravity. ' He thinks I
 
 BENEATH THE CASTLE WALLS, 17 
 
 am no better than a farceur, I know ; but it 
 is nevertheless true that when I was a boy of 
 fourteen — full of imagination and very reck- 
 less — I took a leaf out of the Doctor's book, 
 and sold myself to the Devil' 
 
 <> VOL. T.
 
 i8 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 
 
 The effect produced by Christopher Garston's 
 starthng confession upon his companions was 
 as considerable as any raconteur has a right 
 to expect from a famihar audience ; yet its 
 nature in the two cases was very different. 
 Med way let his book fall, and regarded the 
 speaker with a look of tender concern which, 
 under the circumstances, would have been 
 ridiculous but for the affection that manifestly 
 evoked it. Meade, on the other hand, wore an 
 expression that was grave to austerity ; it was 
 not that he was shocked at Garston's statement, 
 but that he did not beheve it, and, while averse
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 19 
 
 to falsehood in material affairs, he had the very 
 strongest objection to be humbugged in those 
 in which he felt a far nearer and graver interest, 
 namely, matters of physiological inquiry. ' I 
 give you my word of honour,' said Garston, 
 solemnly, who read the other's increduhty in 
 his face as plainly as though ' That is false ! ' 
 had been written there, ' that I am telling 
 you the simple truth. It was that very book 
 yonder, which I had taken to school from the 
 hbrary at the Knoll, that put it into my head, 
 no doubt. At page sixteen you will find the 
 directions for use, in case you wish to make 
 the same bargain with the gentleman whom 
 Faust rather uncivilly (considering that at that 
 time he knew nothing about him) calls " the 
 hellish prince of Orient." ' 
 
 ' You were not, however, personally in- 
 troduced to him ? ' observed Meade, drily. 
 o2
 
 20 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' Well, no,' admitted Kit, ' though really I 
 sometimes used to think that he had assumed 
 the appearance of the usher. You recollect 
 Brabazon, Medway ? * 
 
 Mark signified by a gesture of disgust that 
 he remembered him only too well. 
 
 ' Does he not remind you of the description 
 of Brachus (omitted from your late catalogue 
 of familiars) " with very short legs like a 
 hedgehog, the upper side of his body yellow 
 (think of his waistcoats !) and the lower (think 
 of his trousers ! ) of various hues .^ " ' 
 
 * But you didn't make the agreement you 
 speak of, my dear Garston, with Brabazon, did 
 you ? ' inquired Meade ; ' " you wander from 
 the point," as the cook said to the eel when 
 she was skinning him alive.' 
 
 For an instant Garston's pleasant face looked 
 anything but attractive ; his bright black eyes
 
 A COXFIDENCE, it 
 
 flashed fire, and his thin lips quivered with 
 rage. The metaphor of the eel had a personal 
 application to him which he who uttered it had 
 been far from intending. Though a very clever 
 fellow in many ways, Christopher had weak- 
 nesses ; and one of them was the desire of dis- 
 play. He was by nature diplomatic, and even 
 calculating ; by no means a man given to 
 neglect his own interests in any way ; but he 
 could seldom resist the temptation of producing 
 a sensation. His late extraordinary avowal (a 
 perfectly truthful one) had been wrung from 
 him in a moment of nervous excitement, but 
 the instant it had passed his lips he regretted 
 it. The only thing to be done (as it imme- 
 diately occurred to him) was to treat it 
 with levity, and an indifference which certainly 
 was not wholly genuine. 
 
 ' No. I made no agreement with Brabazon,'
 
 22 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 lie returned with a careless smile; *lie was 
 a man (as Med way will tell you) of whom the 
 phrase " his word was as good as his bond " 
 could have been applied in anything but a 
 complimentary sense ; they were both utterly 
 worthless. I drew the deed myself upon the 
 lines indicated by the worthy Doctor, only 
 being very young, and time looking like 
 eternity to me (as indeed it must have done to 
 Faustus himself), I made the lease a short one. 
 " At the end of ten years next ensuing, provided 
 I enjoy them as I wish, and hereupon being 
 in perfect memory, &c., &c.," and after due 
 invocation of all the " infernal, middle, and 
 supreme powers," I signed it, trusting to the 
 Prince of Orient to perform his own part of 
 the transaction at his leisure/ 
 
 ' But you ought to have signed it in red 
 ink,' suggested Meade ; ' otherwise it was null 
 and void.'
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 23 
 
 'And a good thing, too,' put in Mark, speak- 
 ing for the first time ; * to my mind the whole 
 proceeding, however ridiculous, sounds very- 
 uncanny.' 
 
 'I pricked my finger and signed it with 
 my blood, according to precedent,' observed 
 Garston calmly. 
 
 ' By Jove ! that was thorough, at all events,' 
 remarked Meade with rising interest. ' The 
 whole affair, though of course but a boyish 
 fancy, is really curious. It was not done, as 
 I gather, for a mere lark, or out of audacity.' 
 
 'No, it was not,' said Garston, looking 
 straight before him as a man does who is 
 thinking of the past ; and also perhaps because 
 he did not wish to meet his companions' eyes. 
 
 'Do you remember your motive at the 
 time ? ' 
 
 * I remember I had one.'
 
 24 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 There was a pause, during which the distant 
 wave sighed twice or thrice. 
 
 ' And the precious document ? ' inquired 
 Meade ; ' did you destroy it, or is it in one of 
 those tin boxes at Mogadion along with all the 
 other deeds and assignments ? ' 
 
 ' I destroyed it.' 
 
 ' I am glad you did,' ejaculated Med way in 
 a tone of great rehef. 
 
 ' Well, yes,' admitted Christopher, smihng ; 
 'it would not be a pleasant thing for one's 
 executor to light upon after one's death. Gad ! 
 how it would astonish some people — old 
 Penryn, for example.' 
 
 'The good Kector would be startled, no 
 doubt,' said Medway, once more giving way 
 to mirth ; ' but after a while he would begin 
 to philosophise about it. " Now here was a 
 young lawyer," he would say (meaning you.
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 25- 
 
 Kit), " who devoted himself from his very boy- 
 hood to his profession." By-the-bye, Garston, 
 considering you have plenty of prudence, it 
 seems to me that ten years was but a short 
 tether to give yourself. Why, at twenty-four 
 all would be over with you.' 
 
 ' Just so. I admit my folly. Still my fault 
 was a professional one : I was a victim to 
 precedent.' 
 
 ' What strange things come into boys' 
 minds,' mused Meade, proceeding to light his 
 neglected pipe. 
 
 While thus engaged there flashed over his 
 head a glance of keen significance between Kit 
 and Mark. 'That theory of the boy being 
 father to the man,' continued Meade philosophi- 
 cally, ' seems to me quite untenable. They are 
 a race altogether sui generis.^ 
 
 ' Let us hope so,' exclaimed Kit, fervently.
 
 26 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 ' Just SO ; it would be really frightful if the 
 natures of some boys I have known should have 
 developed as they promised to do. At the 
 period of adolescence, or thereabouts, I believe, 
 a change for the better takes place in them. 
 That devilish desire for inflicting pain, for pain's 
 sake, for example, seems to disappear. Other- 
 wise half one's schoolfellows, like Tom Hood's 
 " Blythe Carew," would certainly be hung. 
 Indeed, with such propensities as many exhibit, ' 
 it is strange how very few- ever come to utter 
 grief or public shame.' 
 
 ' It would pain me very much,' observed 
 Medway, ' if anything of that kind should ever 
 happen to one of old Ludlow's boys.' 
 
 ' Then let us hope it won't,' said Meade, 
 good-naturedly ; ' though for my part, I don't 
 hold myself in any way responsible for some of 
 my young friends at Christ's Hospital.'
 
 A CONFIDENCE, 27 
 
 *Ah, we were country bred, and by 
 comparison innocent,' observed Kit. 'Mark 
 yonder, for example, was pretty much the 
 same at school as he is now, a bookworm at 
 twelve, and in spectacles. Indeed, properly 
 speaking, Mark never was a boy.' 
 
 ' I should never have been a man had it not 
 been for you, Kit,' said Medway, gently. 
 
 This remark had reference to a certain 
 occasion years ago in which Garston had saved 
 Medway 's life. 
 
 Kit laughed — it was his answer to most 
 appeals of a serious kind — and threw a stone 
 at a passing gull. Meade frowned without 
 knowing it ; he was rather jealous, though he 
 never admitted it, even to himself, of Mark's 
 affection for Kit. 
 
 ' I think the ladies will be expecting us,' he 
 said, and rose to his feet with something like a
 
 28 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 yawn. ' The tide is falling fast, and if we are 
 going down the river we ought to start.' 
 
 ' The arrangement was to depend on how 
 long my mother's visitors chose to stay,' ob- 
 served Medway. 'If the siege was raised 
 Maud promised to hoist the flag.' 
 
 ' Then I'll go up to the castle and make a 
 reconnaissance,' said Meade. He moved away, 
 towering above the brushwood, was lost in the 
 tangled fosse, and presently reappeared in the 
 distance, springing from stone to stone up the 
 mossy steep. 
 
 ' What a strange tale you have been telHng 
 us, Kit,' said Medway, in a low voice. 
 
 * It was true.' 
 
 ' No doubt. My wonder is that you never 
 spoke of it before — that is, to me.' 
 
 ' Well, you must allow I keep very few 
 secrets from you, old fellow,' returned the other
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 29 
 
 gently. ' The fact is, I thought it would shock 
 you.' 
 
 ' Then why have you told it now ? ' 
 
 'Ah, ask that fool of a gull yonder — there, 
 I've missed him again, by jingo — why, he came 
 twice within stoneshot. I don't know. An un- 
 controllable impulse, as the young gentleman 
 pleaded the other day who cut his grandmother's 
 throat ; in my case it is only my own throat 
 that suffers.' 
 
 ' Nay, it's not so bad as that ; but I think it 
 was an indiscretion to tell the story before Frank. 
 He is the best fellow in the world — almost — 
 but he doesn't know you so well as I do.' 
 
 ' If one is always to hold one's tongue for 
 fear of being misunderstood by some common- 
 place person or other, one might just as well 
 become a Trappist, and confine oneself to nod- 
 diner and winkinff.'
 
 30 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 ' My dear Kit,' returned Mark, gravely, ' you 
 know as well as I do that Frank is anything but 
 a commonplace person — I wish I had half his 
 wits, not to mention his goodness. That man's 
 life, you will see, will be devoted to the service 
 of his fellow- creatures.' 
 
 ' Let us hope it won't be sacrificed to them 
 — early,' returned the other demurely, and in a 
 sanctimonious tone. 
 
 'Don't, Kit. I could almost say I don't 
 like you when you talk like that.' 
 
 ' If you did you wouldn't mean it,' was the 
 quiet rejoinder. 
 
 ' That's true. I have no friend hke you. Kit. 
 When you are away at college I feel as if half 
 myself were missing. However, there will be 
 only one more year of it, and then you will be 
 settled at Mogadion quite close to us all.' 
 
 Kit laughed, but not so lightly as was his 
 wont.
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 31 
 
 *If you GOiild have your way, Mark, we 
 should all live together all our lives, with no 
 greater distance between us than hes between 
 the Knoll and Mogadion, and after death be 
 buried in the same churchyard.' 
 
 ' And why not ? ' 
 
 ' Why not ? My dear Mark, how can you 
 ask such a question? Leaving myself out of 
 the question, do you think it probable that a 
 man like Frank Meade will be content to vege- 
 tate in an old country town, which the very sea 
 is leaving as though in contempt for its apathy 
 and dulness ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; I don't like to think of 
 Frank's leaving us, but I understand that such 
 a misfortune is possible. But in your case, 
 with a sister as well as a father to keep you at 
 home, you surely do not contemplate deserting 
 us.?'
 
 32 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 ' My sister is dear to me — very dear — as 
 you know, Mark, though she has not a stronger 
 hold on me than you have,' returned Kit, 
 thoughtfully, with eyes fixed on the sea. ' And 
 yet sometimes I feel an instinct, almost im- 
 possible to resist, to leave this Sleepy Hollow 
 and plunge into the battle of life, like the boy 
 in the poem who sees the lights of London in 
 the distance, and whose 
 
 Spirit throbs within him, longs to be before him then, 
 Underneath the light he looks at, in amongst the throngs of 
 men. 
 
 No, Mark ; our roads in life, believe me, cannot 
 run long together, side by side, as now.' 
 
 ' They will never be cross-roads, at all 
 events,' said Medway, tenderly. 
 
 ' Cross-roads ? ' repeated the other, with 
 energy. ' Heaven forbid ! Why, you and I have 
 known each other all our lives, and I cannot
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 33 
 
 call to mind a single quarrel. The tide of 
 friendship has been always on the flow with 
 us, yet without a ripple.' 
 
 ' Always,' echoed Mark, witli emotion ; 
 ' always. It is because you are so dear to me, 
 Kit, that I would have others hold you dear. 
 The regard of a man like Meade is worth your 
 winning, and yet so far from taking any pains 
 
 to do so ' 
 
 'My dear Mark,' interrupted Kit, with a 
 quick flush. 'You are an excellent authority 
 on everything that occurred before the Christian 
 era, but on everyday matters you are fallible. 
 The famous lines in connection with Dr. Fell 
 are too modern, I fear, to be familiar with you ; 
 but they give the reason, or rather the no 
 reason of affinity and antagonism to a nicety. 
 The lady who kissed her cow is the very type 
 and personification of friendship, which goes by 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 fiivour — " natural selection " only. That is wh}", 
 Mark ' — and hero lie turned his smiling face to 
 his companion — ' you have such a regard for 
 me. I am not such a born fool as to suppose 
 it is the reward of merit.' 
 
 It was curious to see how Mark's pained and 
 troubled look gave way and disappeared before 
 the other's smile, like clouds in sunshine. ' I 
 wis]], nevertheless, Kit,' he said, with mild per- 
 sistence, ' tliat you had not told that Faust story 
 of yours before Meade.' 
 
 ' And so do I — there, I admit it. It is only 
 with you that I should have no reserves.' 
 
 ' Still, Meade is a man of honour. Kit,' 
 observed Mark, reprovingly. 
 
 ' Doubtless ; but he is not my friend as you 
 are, nor ever will be. By-the-bye, when I was 
 so luifortimatjly frank just now, did not my 
 co:ifcssion remind you of an old compact made
 
 A CONFIDENCE. 35 
 
 between two other high contracting powers — 
 indeed, I saw it did.' 
 
 ' Yes. That also was an act of boyish folly ; 
 and audacious, though I hope it had notliing of 
 profanity.' 
 
 ' The agreement stands, Mark, nevertheless,' 
 said Garston, with a strange smile ; ' I hold 
 you to your promise.' 
 
 ' As you please, dear friend,' answered the 
 other gravely ; ' but the performance may be 
 beyond your powers and mine.' 
 ' It may and it may not.' 
 A solemn silence fell on both of them, I ill 
 from the summit of the hill there came a cheerrul 
 shout of ' Mark ! Mark ! ' like the warnincic cry 
 from sportsmen in September. They looked 
 up and saw Meade beckoning with his huge 
 arms. 
 
 ' What a size the fellow is,' muttercvl 
 D 2
 
 36 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Garston. ' He looks like the Spectre of the 
 Brocken.' 
 
 ' The flag is flying from the fortress, Mark/ 
 continued the cheerful voice ; ' the Castle is- 
 relievec!, and the garrison are waiting for us.'
 
 37 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE KXOLL. 
 
 Though ]\Ieac]e had spoken of the Kiioll as a 
 castle, it liad been only in a metapliorical sense. 
 It was as unlike a castle as anything could be, 
 nor indeed would it have been easy to find its 
 counterpart in any English dwelling-liouse. In 
 some respects it resembled an Indian bungalow, 
 being long and low, and having a verandah 
 running round it. It was, however, by no 
 means only a summer residence, being so 
 sheltered and shut in on north and east by 
 noble trees that it never felt the teeth of even 
 those mild winters that visit Cornwall. A fall 
 of snow was unknown at Trenarvon, thouo^h in
 
 38 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 seasons of exceptional severity it was sjirinkled 
 jiere and there like an iced April shower, and 
 used to remind Maud Medvvay, as a chikl, of 
 her birthday cake. Maud is no child now, but 
 a very beautiful young w^oman ; tall and grace- 
 ful, witli such a magnificent harvest of golden 
 brown liair tliat old Mr. Penryn, tlie Eector of 
 Mogadion, and the greatest scholar in those 
 parts, calls her 'Ceres'; on state occasions, 
 wlien it is arranged in coils like crowns, he has 
 another name for her, ' the Snxon Princess.' 
 He is free to call her what he will, for she looks 
 uj)on him as a second flither. Her complexion 
 IS fair as a star, her blue eyes are intelligent as 
 well as tender ; she has the beauty without 
 the apathy of the blonde. At the same time it 
 must be confessed that she has not the live- 
 liness, nor indeed the wit, of her friend and 
 present companion, Trenna Garston. TJie two
 
 THE KNOLL. 39 
 
 girls are a great contrast to one another in 
 appearance. Trenna's complexion, like that of 
 her brotlier, is an ohve brown, while her hair 
 and eyes are even of a darker hue than his. 
 But her flice, though full of intelligence, has 
 not the same mobility of expression. It is 
 attractive — indeed it is exceedingly striking — 
 but ' graver than should be for one so young ;' 
 the smile that irradiates Kit's countenance so 
 often is with her a much rarer visitor, though 
 when it comes it takes the hearts of men by 
 storm. She was christened Trenna from a 
 fancy of her mother's, who did not long survive 
 her birth, after the river that flows past Tre- 
 narvon into IMoi^adion harbour, and in some 
 respects she resembles it. It does not reflect 
 much sunlight ; the shadows of rocks and trees 
 fall upon it for miles ; its course is swift, and 
 occasionallv somewhat reckless. Here and
 
 40 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 there it is as deep as ocean. But how lovingly 
 it winds and clings to its own banks, and how 
 faithfully, though Trenarvon moor be alive 
 with streams, and every runlet is a river, does 
 it keep within its proper channel I 
 
 The third person of the little company, to 
 whose men-folks we have already been intro- 
 duced, and who are now upon their way to 
 join them, is its mistress, Maud's mother. In 
 her you see what Maud will grow to, and how 
 she will look a quarter of a century hence. 
 She will by no means have lost her good looks 
 by that time ; but they will not of course be 
 those of youth. Mrs. Medway is calm and 
 stately, almost to majesty ; but without a touch 
 of haughtiness. Her eyes are too gentle and 
 tender, her whole expression too benignant, 
 to harbour aught of disdain or pride. But 
 beneath Iier placid smile there can be read,
 
 THE KNOLL. 41 
 
 by tliose wlio have the eyes for it, a deep- 
 rooted sorrow, which I trust her daughter's face 
 Diay never know. 
 
 The three ladies are seated in the verandah 
 looking out upon the lawn, or rather on the 
 view beyond it. It is one that never palls 
 upon the eye, or fails to charm it. If the Knoll 
 were near to Plymouth, or even Falmouth, it 
 Avould undoubtedly become a show place. It 
 would have been impossible to keep the tourist, 
 and especially the landscape-painter, who had 
 heard of its surpassing beauty, out ; but. as it 
 was, few strangers came to Mogadion — an 
 ancient but small and decaying seaport ; and 
 this Paradise was comparatively unknown. 
 The trail of that endless serpent, the Excur- 
 sionist, would otherwise have been over it all. 
 
 The place combined a certain look of fairy- 
 land with the loneliness of 'the forest primeval.'
 
 42 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Only it was a tropical forest ; the trees were of 
 brilliant hues, and of a kind rarely seen in 
 England : they made a vista that seemed to 
 reach for miles ; far beneath, the landscape 
 was broken up into three distances, in which 
 slept three small lakes, or rather seemed to 
 sleep ; for in reality tliey were in rapid motion, 
 being, in fact, three reaches of the winding 
 Trenna. Beyond the last you could see, with 
 a good glass, another sort of forest than that 
 which surrounded you — the masts of shipping 
 which marked the harbour of Mog^adion. The 
 lawn in front of tlie house ran down so steeply 
 that only a small flower-bed or tv/o could find 
 place in it. In the rainy season — and there 
 was a good deal of rain at Trenarvon — they 
 Avere periodically washed away, and had to be 
 built up by Giles the gardener (hence dubbed 
 by the family, ' Sisyphus ' ) ; but such as they
 
 THE KXOLL. 43 
 
 Avere, tlioy were ablaze with blossom, and made 
 a foreg^romid admirably in contrast with the 
 slumbrons scene l^eyond them. 
 
 The garden proper lay to the left, and 
 amply atoned for its small dimensions by the 
 rarity as well as the luxuriance of its contents, 
 Tlie extreme mildness of the climate, combined 
 with the sheltered character of the place, 
 admitted of the cultivation of plants that 
 are seen elsewhere only in hot-houses : the 
 camellia, for example, was as common as the 
 rose-tree, and wore a score of blossoms for tlie 
 other's one. Xor should we omit to say that, 
 out of the small space at the owner's command, 
 a piece of ground had been levelled for lawn 
 tennis, with a due array of network to the south 
 and west, since if a ball should have gone 
 astray tliat way it would have rolled on, like 
 the echoes of the poet, ' for ever and for ever.'
 
 44 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 It was of this popular game the ladies were 
 discoursing? at the moment of our introduction 
 to them. 
 
 'For my part I should like tennis even 
 better than a row on the river,' observed 
 Maud ; ' but then it is so bad for Mark.' 
 
 ' You mean that not playing tennis is so 
 bad for Mark,' said Trenna with a sly smile. 
 
 ' Well, yes ; I do. It is difficult to make 
 him take any exercise, and exercise is so 
 necessary to hhn. As for his taking a racket, 
 he would as soon take the hand of some strange 
 young lady — I can't say anything stronger than 
 that for him in the way of antipathy — and 
 nothing pleases him better than to see us deep 
 in the game, wliich gives him an excuse for 
 burying himself in his books. Now if we put 
 him in the big boat, he can hardly sit in the 
 stern with mamma and see you row, Trenna.'
 
 THE KXOLL. 45 
 
 ' But I have not the least oLjcclion to take 
 an oar, if ^Mark is lazy,' observed the yoiinix 
 lady thus alluded to. 
 
 ' I know tliat, my dear ; you are a first-rate 
 oars woman, and are only too well aware of the 
 fact. Eowiug, I have observed, is your only 
 vanity ; I suppose it's the feather.' 
 
 ' You should not say ^lark is lazy, dear 
 Trenna,' put in that gentleman's mother in a 
 tone of gentle reproof; 'I only wish he was a 
 little less dihgent.' 
 
 ' Oh, I did not mean lazy in that sense, my 
 dear Mrs. Med way,' said Trenna with great 
 gravity ; ' I only put it in a hypothetical way, 
 remember, but I should have said indolent.' 
 
 ' My poor Mark is not indolent,' sighed Mrs. 
 Medway, with a shake of her stately head. 
 
 The two girls interchanged a furtive smile. 
 Mark's dehcacv and ailments were the most
 
 46 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 favourite topic of his mother's save one — his 
 perfections. 'Mr. Penryn tells me,' she con- 
 tinued, ' that his learning for his time of life 
 is something marvellous. Greek and Latin 
 he mastered with the consummate ease with 
 which a hunter takes a fence in his stride — 
 what are you laughing at, Maud ? ' 
 
 ' Only at the metaphor, dear mother. At 
 Mark, of all men, being compared to a hunter.' 
 
 ' The expression was Mr. Penryn's, my dear, 
 not mine,' continued Mrs. Medway, reprovingly. 
 ' lie said Greek and Latin were mere child's 
 play to your brother, while of archosology and 
 antiquities, Avhich are his favourite studies, 
 he already knows more than any man in 
 CornwalL' 
 
 ' Except the Eector himself,' observed Trenna, 
 with a certain dryness, which to a more ob- 
 servant ear might have suggested that the 
 Eector was no favourite witli her.
 
 THE KNOLL. 47 
 
 ' Well, of course, except ^Ir. Penryn,' re- 
 turned Mrs. Medway. 'He has had forty years' 
 start of Mark, remember.' 
 
 ' Of course lie lias,' interposed Maud, 
 smiling. ' Treuna knovrs that very well, Don't 
 you see she is only teasing you, my dear 
 mother ? ' 
 
 At this Trenna burst out laughing, if a 
 sound as low and musical as the joy-note of a 
 bird could be called laughter, and rose and 
 kissed her hostess. 
 
 ' You are a verv naught v ^irl,' said the 
 elder lady, returning her embrace affectionately 
 nevertheless, ' but I do assure you dear Mark's 
 case is no lauo^hino- matter. I am told, thoun^h 
 not by him, and it is a dead secret, that Mark 
 is writing a book ; think, my dear, of any one 
 writing a book at one-and-twenty.' 
 
 'What is it about, my dear Mrs. Medwav?'
 
 48 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 inquired Trenna. ' Not on field sports — not a 
 '' Handbook on Tennis " ? ' 
 
 ' Handbook of fiddlesticks,' returned the 
 elder lady, witli indignation. ' Do you suppose 
 Mark would stoop to anything so puerile ? It 
 is to be ' — here she sunk her voice — ' a County 
 History, in quarto.' 
 
 ' Come, that's charming,' exclaimed Trenna, 
 clapping her little hands ; ' I never know what 
 to buy upon a journey. What a nice book it 
 will be to read upon the railway ! ' 
 
 ' It will be a nice book to read anywhere^' 
 pursued her hostess, unconscious of the satire. 
 ' I have no doubt of that : but think of the 
 labour and study involved in such an under- 
 taking ! With most people, Mr. Penryn says, 
 it would take a lifetime.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Penryn himself was your in- 
 formant, was he, mamma ? ' cried Maud.
 
 THE KNOLL. 49 
 
 'I didn't mean to let it out, my de.irs,' 
 said Mrs. ' Medway, naively, ' but it must 
 go no further ; it lias been a dead secret all 
 along.' 
 
 ' And when did you first hear of it yourself, 
 mamma ? ' 
 
 'Mr. Penryn told me, my dear, this very 
 
 mornmg. 
 
 At this there was another interchauG^e of 
 smiles between the girls ; but they were tender 
 smiles, very different from those which are 
 evoked bv scorn. A mother's weakness for 
 her boy was not a subject to excite ridicule in 
 either of them, while jealousy was to Maud an 
 unknown passion. Besides, it was really true 
 that Mark studied too much, and was given to 
 indulge in dreams and phantasies, the result of 
 old-world reading ; and that Dr. Meade had 
 recommended chanf^e — a thing for which the 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 so KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 unconscious subject of his advice had a greater 
 distaste than even for physical exertion. 
 
 * With this book on his mind,' continued 
 Mrs. Medway, ' it is more than ever necessary 
 that Mark should bestir himself; and I am so 
 delighted that Frank and Kit enticed him up to 
 the Castle to-day.' 
 
 'You should rather say, m.amma, that the 
 idea of meetin^^ the ^-eneral's dausfhters 
 frightened him from home.' 
 
 ' Yes, it is extra ordinar}' how little Mark 
 cares for ladies' society, unless, indeed, they are 
 old friends,' said Mrs. Medway, with a mechan- 
 ical but thoufrhtful glance towards Trenna. 
 * But in this case liking had more to do with it 
 than shyness ; I believe Kit could persuade him 
 to go anywhere.' 
 
 'My brother is so very fond of Mark,' said 
 'Jjenna, with a Ihish of pleasure, ' that I do 
 
 I
 
 THE KNOLL. 51 
 
 assure you I feel sometimes downright jealous 
 of him.' 
 
 Mrs. Medway smiled with gentle pity, as 
 though she would have said, ' and no wonder.' 
 
 ' Everybody loves Mark,' she observed 
 simply, ' but Kit best of all. That is why I 
 like Kit so much.' 
 
 . ' Well, really, mamma,' said Maud, remon- 
 stratingly, ' I do hope you like Kit a little for 
 his owm sake.' 
 
 ' I do — I do, my dear ; what made you 
 think I didn't ? And there's dear Frank, too.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I am sure Mark is most fortunate in 
 his friends,' said Maud. 
 
 ' Good attracts good,' observed Mrs. Medway, 
 chdactically. 
 
 ' And the greater the less,' put in Trenna, 
 slily. 
 
 ' Just so, my dear. Xo one would think of 
 E 2 
 
 r^~'no..n,«n*
 
 52 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 comparing — that is, I mean,' said the elder lady, 
 catching a glance of horror in her daughter's 
 face, ' all comparisons are odious — why, dear 
 me,' she exclaimed delightedly, ' there he is ! ' 
 
 The three young men had made their 
 appearance simultaneously, but Mrs. Medway 
 had only eyes for one of them ; or rather, as 
 mathematicians do with figures in the ninth 
 and tentli places of decimals, she had ' neglected ' 
 the other two, as being by comparison of no 
 consequence.
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 
 
 The little party had met before at tlie breakfast 
 table at the Knoll. Trenna was a temporary 
 visitor there, and her brother and Frank Meade 
 had rowed up thither in a skiff from Mogadion 
 that morning, so there were no formal ' Good- 
 da vs ' and ' How-d've-do's ' to be exchamied. 
 
 ' Have the general and his aides-de-camp 
 really gone ? ' inquired Mark, a]:)prehensively. 
 ' Kit thought that the hoistinsr of the flaii midit 
 be a mere russ de guei re, and that we should 
 find the enemy still in possession of the fortress ; 
 while Frank opined that the ladies couldn't get
 
 54 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 on without us any longer, and had signalled 
 " Come " in desperation.' 
 
 ' What conceit ! ' exclaimed Trenna. 
 
 ' What suspicion of duplicity ! ' added Maud. 
 ' That idea of Kit's could never have occurred 
 to any person of rectitude.' 
 
 ' I am not good, I know,' whimpered Kit, 
 pitifully. ' I am only beautiful.' 
 
 At this there was a roar of laughter, not at 
 the speaker, but at poor Maud, who, when very 
 young and under reproof, was reported by 
 tradition to have made this very observation. 
 Some foolish nurse had flattered her childish 
 vanity, and on being taken to task for some 
 naughtiness she had defended herself in this 
 illogical manner. 
 
 ' It is a great shame,' said Mrs. Medway, ' to 
 call to mind Maud's little weaknesses when she 
 has so long outgrown them.' 
 
 1
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 55 
 
 ' Tes,' asseated Kit, with a roguisli smile, 
 ' when she is no longer beautiful, but accom- 
 plished.' 
 
 ' Mark,' cried his sister, with mock velio- 
 mence, ' why do you not defend me ngains' 
 this wicked man, instead of grinning at his 
 impertinences ? ' 
 
 'Kit would have his joke, my dear, evc:i 
 upon the scaffold,' said Mark, with his ey.'s 
 shut, as his custom was when greatly tick'el. 
 
 'We shall see,' said Maud with sign'- 
 ficance. 
 
 ' A hit, a palpable hit ! ' cried Frank, 
 clapping his hands. 'Maud had you there, 
 Gars ton.' 
 
 'Thank you, Frank; you were always my 
 friend,' said Maud, gratefully. 
 
 ' " Short, not Codlin," ' quoted Kit. ' Oh, 
 I know I'm nowhere in comparison with 
 Meade.'
 
 56 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 The speech of course was a playful one ; 
 still there was a tinge of bitterness in it that 
 did not escape the ear. If he expected a dis- 
 claimer from the person addressed he was 
 disappointed, but her fair face flushed from 
 brow to chin. Trenna, too, flashed a covert 
 glance at Maud, as if to say, ' Why don't you 
 speak a word of comfort to poor Kit ? ' and 
 when there was no reply her brow grew dark 
 and troabled. 
 
 ' And now,' said Mark, breaking in upon 
 the silence with pretended enthusiasm., ' where 
 xirc our i acksts and our tennis-balls ? ' 
 
 The exclamation v/as most opportune, and 
 touched tlie spring of mirth in the whole j^arty; 
 for as all were well aware, Mark had no racket, 
 and never played. 
 
 ' You lazy boy,' cried Maud, indignantl}^ 
 ' we are not going to play tennis at all this
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 57 
 
 afternoon, and you know it ; you gentlemen 
 are going to row us ladies down the river.' 
 
 ' But Trenna is so fond of rowincr,' said 
 Mark, pathetically, 'and the boat will bo 10 
 much hghter without me.' 
 
 ' You are going to vou\ ]\Iark,' said tlie 
 young lady thus alluded to, in an authoritative 
 tone. ' Frank and you are fToiug to row ]\Irs. 
 Medway and myself in the family barge, and 
 Kit will take Maud in the skiff.' 
 
 ' My dear mother,' appealed Mark, plaint- 
 ively, ' is this young lady mistress of the house, 
 or are you? Do pray assert yourself.' 
 
 ' My dear boy, I think Trenna is quite 
 right,' returned Mrs. Medway, gravely. ' The- 
 arrangement she proposes is just as it should 
 be.' 
 
 As a matter of fact it was the one most 
 agreeable to all parties, though in pressing it
 
 58 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Trenna had only thought of one person, her 
 brother. She was devoted to Kit's interests — 
 nay more (let us not say worse), she was bent 
 upon promoting the gratification of his wishes, 
 even when it was not always to his advantage 
 that they should be fulfilled. To her, though 
 she was but his sister, Kit was what Mark was 
 to his mother, the apple of lier eye, and not 
 to be thwarted or crossed by any obstacle it 
 was in her power to remove. Some people said 
 that Trenna spoilt her brother ; but no one 
 accused Mrs. Medway of spoiling Mark ; they 
 only said she ' indulged ' him ; but tlie treatment 
 adopted in each case was the same. The dif- 
 ference lay in the subjects of it. 
 
 The descent to the river was made through 
 the garden, and the beautiful wilderness that 
 lay beneath it. Every one of the party had
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 59 
 
 been tlicat way scores of times, yet its charms 
 always evoked ncAv admiration. 
 
 ' Wlien I leave your bouse, Mrs. Medway,' 
 said Kit, as they were crossing the little rustic 
 bridge above the little pool, from which the 
 best view in the Knoll grounds was perhaps 
 to be obtained, 'it always seems to me like 
 quitting Paradise.' 
 
 'And what is the worst part of it,' grumbled 
 Mark, ' to undergo the curse of labour.' 
 
 For the path led to the boathouse. 
 
 The barge, as Trenna had called the ]\[ed- 
 way's boat — though, indeed, it was but a light 
 pair-oar — lay moored there, beside the httle 
 skiff in which the two young men had 
 come. 
 
 The former was got ready first ; ^Irs. Med- 
 way and Trenna placed themselves on the 
 cushioned seat, in spite of Mark's last appeal,
 
 6o KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 * Are you sure, my dear Trenna, you would 
 not prefer to take an oar ? ' 
 
 Frank, it is needless to say, pulled stroke, 
 and his friend bow. 
 
 ' We shall overtake vou before you round 
 the Point,' said Kit, as he pushed them off, and 
 proceeded with deliberate solicitude to arrange 
 Maud's cushions for her in the skiff. 
 
 ' Don't you be so sure of that,' were Frank's 
 parting words ; * Mark is a tiger at rowing.' 
 
 However Meade miofht have exag^^erated 
 his friend's prowess with the oar, he could 
 scarcely have exaggerated his own. Though 
 his weight was of course considerable, his 
 strength and skill amply compensated for it, 
 and indeed made but little of the whole freight. 
 
 ' I don't want you to exert yourself, my 
 dear fellow,' he said to his companion (' I 
 won't,' interpolated Mark), 'if you will only
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 6i 
 
 keep time and not catch crabs, Kit shall never 
 come near us.' 
 
 It was really a fine sight to see that hand- 
 some giant settle to his work after this exordium. 
 He never seemed to put forth his full powers. 
 There was hardly a trace of effort, but every 
 time his oar blades touched the water (for each 
 had a pair of sculls) the boat seemed to fly 
 before them as swiftly as the swallow skims. 
 
 ' I wdsh I could see ]Mark put his back in it, 
 xis Mr. Penryn calls it, as Frank does,' mur- 
 mured Mrs. Med way to her companion. 
 On the river every whisper is heard. 
 ' Back in it,' echoed Mark, despairingly, ' I 
 see more of Frank's back than you do ; his 
 muscles are going like the hammers in the 
 piano when you lift up the lid. It is most 
 curious, but no mother could wish her son's 
 back to be like that, surely. There, he's
 
 62 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 broken down at last,' for Meade was overcome 
 with laughter ; ' phew, that's charming, now 
 one has time to breathe.' 
 
 The tide was still with them, though almost 
 on the turn, and, though the oars were out of 
 water, the boat still sped on like an arrow. To 
 see Frank's smiling face was a treat to anybody, 
 and, since his mirth had been evoked by her 
 son's drollery, Mrs. Med way especially enjoyed 
 it. Trenna, too, seemed to regard it with 
 greater pleasure than she generally allowed 
 herself to exliibit. 
 
 ' There's nothing,' says a great writer, 
 ' which evokes the admiration of worn. en more 
 than the manifestation of great physical strength 
 in one of the other sex ; ' nor is this far from 
 the truth, for there ' he is rich where siie is 
 poor,' and his ' unlikeliness fits her own ' with 
 most completeness. It fills her with that sense
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 63 
 
 of protection which, to the true woman, is after 
 all one of his chiefcst charms, wlietlier slie 
 herself stand in need of it or not. Tremia 
 Garston stood in no such need. She possessed 
 a physical vigour very rare in one of lier sex, 
 and a spirit of independence rarer. But she 
 did not withhold her natural tribute of admira- 
 tion, and Meade, though he was far from 
 recognising it for what it was, perceived at 
 least that Trenna was well pleased. He liad 
 seldom seen her smile so kindly on him ; had 
 doubted, indeed, whether she ever did so 
 smile. 
 
 The trutli was, Trenna was somewhat 
 jealous of him upon her brother's account ; she 
 resented his familiarity with the family at the 
 Knoll as a sort of infringement of Kit's copy- 
 right of fiiendship with them; but at this 
 moment when Kit was where he would be —
 
 64 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 filone with Maud— this feehng of antagonism 
 was in abeyance, and she could regard him 
 with fairness. 
 
 As for Meade, he was no exception to the 
 rule that there is no occasion when a man is 
 not prepared to regard a pretty woman, who 
 shows the slightest kindness for him, with 
 favour. The situation ard its surroundings — 
 the calmness of the summer evening, the 
 monotone of the rushing river, and the beauty 
 of its full-fohaged banks — were all propitious to 
 the tender passion. Frank liad often admired 
 Trenna before — no anchorite could have done 
 otherwise, and Frank w\^.s no anchorite — but 
 never had she looked to him so beautiful ; her 
 spirituelle face, as it hung dreamily over the 
 clear stream and was mirrored there, might 
 have belonged, he fimcied, to some Undine ; 
 her fair form, as it reclined u;:o:i the scarlet
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE, 65 
 
 cushion, was the very embodiment of grace. 
 On ordinary occasions she spoke to him but 
 rarely ; her attitude towards him was tliat of 
 one who keeps an armed truce ; but on this 
 occasion she conversed with him freely, and 
 her voice was music in his ears. 
 
 Had !?he bared her heart he would have 
 read some things there that would have 
 iistonished him ; but he would have found 
 inscribed upon it both liking and respect for 
 him ; for the first time he read the former in 
 her face. In her words, too, there was liking. 
 It was not what she said, but the manner in 
 which she said it, which implied this ; though, 
 indeed, she might have said the softest tilings, 
 had she so pleased, with as little reserve as 
 though they were alone, since, when her son 
 was present, Mrs. Med way had neither ears 
 nor eyes for others. It was an afternoon that 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Meade would not liave easily forgotten, even 
 had there been nothing else — and it was fated 
 there should be much — to fix it in his memory. 
 
 As the river broadened, and they emerged 
 from its loneliness and comparative quiet into 
 Mogadion harbour, with its crowd and stir, it 
 seemed to the young man, though his thews 
 and sinews had been busy throughout tlie 
 voyage, that he was awakening from some 
 rapturous dream to common life. 
 
 Their intention was to take an evenine^ 
 meal with Trenna's father, after which the 
 little party, except Frank and Kit, were to 
 return by carriage to the Knoll. As the 
 repast, however, was to be a cold one, there 
 was no need for punctuality, and at the land- 
 ing-place stood Dr. Meade on hospitable 
 thoughts intent. 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Med way,' he said, ' I have
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE, 67 
 
 just seen Garston, and he will not be home for 
 half an hour at earliest. A patient of mine 
 who has not that confidence in my skill which 
 you have, has sent for him all in a hurry to 
 make his will, so I have undertaken to be your 
 host in the meantime.' 
 
 ' Now, my dear Doctor, is it true ? ' replied 
 Mrs. Medway, doubtfully. ' You know you 
 once made us lunch with you instead of Mr. 
 Penryn, under false pretences.' 
 
 ' I beg yom- pardon, my dear madam ; I only 
 took it for granted that the Eector would have 
 been occupied in the performance of a certain 
 duty, which, as it turned out, he grossly 
 neglected. That he should have sent his curate 
 instead of going in person to marry the mayor's 
 daughter was so unlike a man with any regard 
 to his own interests, that I said boldly for him, 
 as a man should do for an absent friend whom 
 
 F 2
 
 68 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 he respected, " Penryn is engaged elsewhere 
 to-day." ' 
 
 ' But then he wasn't^ you know,' argued 
 Mrs. Medway, ' and it made him exceedingly 
 angry.' 
 
 ' It did, I allow ; but that arose from the 
 consciousness of a duty unfulfilled. He was 
 in reahty annoyed with himself, and not with 
 me, and it did him morally a world of good. 
 But as to Garston, he is an attorney — begging 
 Miss Trenna's pardon (to whom I kiss my 
 hand), but the truth must be told at all hazards 
 — and you may be certain I wouldn't run the 
 risk of offending Mm. No ; you must really 
 look in upon us and take a cup of tea. After 
 such exertions as I see your son has been 
 taking, my dear Mrs. Medway, some immediate 
 refreshment is essential to restore his drooping 
 energies.'
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 69 
 
 Dr. Meade, it Avill be seen, wns a wag ; he 
 was also one of that class which are now only 
 to be found in out-of-the-way country districts 
 — a character. 
 
 Eubicund, massive, imperious, he was a man 
 who held his own, and got his own way more 
 than many a county magnate. The behef in 
 his skill was universal, and so deep-seated that 
 it doubled his professional usefulness. It had 
 often happened when a drooping patient had 
 said, ' I shall die,' that this man's confident ' No 
 you won't ' had done more to save him than his 
 medicines ; and this masterful spirit, which he 
 carried into all his actions, made most of them 
 victories. The Doctor's hand was as open as 
 his heart, and the poor idolised him ; but his 
 manner, so far from being of that smooth ole- 
 aginous sort affected by some very successful 
 members of his profession, was often brusque,
 
 JO KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 and sometimes tart. This made him, with some 
 persons, unpopular. It did not suit the fas- 
 tidious taste of the Eev. Brooklyn Penryn, 
 Eector of Mogadion, for example, and would 
 have hindered his appreciation of the good 
 Doctor, even if that circumstance of his having 
 seduced his favourite guests on a certain occa- 
 sion from his luncheon table had never 
 occurred. • As it was, the Eector shrank from 
 the Doctor's society, and s23oke of him confi- 
 dentially as ' The Savage.' 
 
 Whether savage or not, he had the rude 
 virtue of hospitahty in perfection. Dr. Meade's 
 small but comfortable house stood almost for 
 ' home ' in the eyes of many a country neigh- 
 bour whenever he visited the little seaport. 
 There was always simple but savoury fare to be 
 found there at mid-day for all friends round 
 Mogadion ; ' a knife and fork,' as the host him-
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 71 
 
 self modestly expressed it, for everybody, 'and 
 a hearty welcome/ ' The Cote,' or ' Dovecote,' 
 as it was called, from the pigeons that strutted 
 about it, inside and out, stood a hundred feet 
 or so back from the narrow winding roadway 
 that foniied the high street of Mogadion, and 
 the old-fashioned garden that occupied the space 
 between gladdened every passer-by with its 
 sweetness and beauty. 
 
 The box-trees with which it was interspersed 
 gave it the only formality it possessed, and 
 though it could boast of none of the rare 
 floral beauties that made the garden at tlie 
 Knoll so attractive, in perfume and splendour it 
 eclipsed it quite. There was no house opposite 
 the Cote, which would have commanded an 
 uninterrupted view of the bay but for the 
 presence of a shipping quay, where from time 
 to time vessels of considerable burthen would
 
 72 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 receive or dischar£?e carsfoes. Even clurini]^ 
 those operations, liowever, themselves both in- 
 teresting and picturesque, the outlook from the 
 house was by no means shut out, and even 
 acquired a certain quaintness from the masts 
 and spars that intersected it. 
 
 At the door of the Cote stood Eachel 
 Deeds, the Doctor's housekeeper, whose smile 
 and curtsey, unlike the master's welcome^ 
 were by no m.eans given to everybody : in the 
 present case, however, the visitors were received 
 with all the honour it was in her power to 
 bestow. Mrs. Medway was agreat favourite of 
 hers, and Mrs. Deed's daughter, Lucy, was in 
 service at the Knoll, as Miss Maud's own 
 maid. 
 
 ' I know whom you are looking for, 
 Eachel,' smiled Mrs. Medway, ' but Maud will 
 be here presently ; she is coming after us in 
 tlic skiff Willi Mr. Chiistopher.'
 
 THE FAMILY BARGE. 73 
 
 It was curious that up to the mention of 
 that young gentleman's name old Eachel had 
 taken no notice of Trenna, whose presence she 
 now acknowledged, not without a certain stiff- 
 ness. Yet her son Abel Deeds was ^Ir. Gars- 
 ton senior's man-servant, and the young lady 
 in question was almost as well known to her as 
 Miss Maud. 
 
 But the fact was Mrs. Deeds not only 
 claimed to have her likes and dislikes, but 
 showed them. The pleasure tliat lit up her 
 face at the sight of her young master was proof 
 enough of this, and indeed, though the old man 
 loved his son better than all the world, himself 
 included, he was less demonstrative of his 
 affection for him than was his housekeeper. 
 A nod and a cheerful ' Well, my boy I ' was all 
 that the Doctor had vouchsafed to Frank on this 
 occasion, though they had not met before that
 
 74 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 day; and Frank's ' How are you, sir? ' in reply, 
 might have been thought formal by those who 
 did not know the deep affection that existed 
 between them. It is not in words, however, 
 that love and reverence dwell, notwithstanding 
 that so large a majority of the human race 
 would persuade us to the contrary.
 
 75 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE. 
 
 Like all worthy professors of his noble calliug, 
 Dr. Meade was the repository of many secrets 
 — some of them confided to him, bnt more of 
 them guessed. He kncAv where many a patient's 
 shoe pinched, and had the ' length of their feet,' 
 while they flattered themselves that, though 
 prescribing for this and that, the most serious 
 of their maladies w^as beyond his ken. He 
 could read the embarrassments that are the 
 precursors of ruin in insomnia, and the domestic 
 quarrels that end in separation in suppressed 
 gout. Fortunately for his neighbours, with this
 
 76 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 quick sight for human aihnents, mental and 
 bodily, he combined a fine sense of honour that 
 caused him to keep his discoveries to himself. 
 
 The Doctor knew of Mrs. Med way this : that 
 she had become comparatively poor through an 
 act of self-sacrifice which, though dictated by 
 principle and indeed by a plain sense of justice, 
 had been a bitter humihation to her to put into 
 effect. Her late husband had been a London 
 merchant of good position, but whose devotion 
 to his family had caused him to insure his life 
 for an amount unusual in one of his circum- 
 stances. Of late years times had not been so 
 good with his particular business, and the pay- 
 ing of his premiums had made a serious inroad 
 into his income. On his deatli, however, those 
 he left behind him reaped the fruits of his 
 prudence and self-denial. Though Mr. Med way 
 died the possessor of a much smaller fortune
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE. 77 
 
 than had been expected, the insurance companies 
 more than supphed the deficiency, and the widow 
 and her children were left in affluence. It was 
 more than a year after her husband's death that 
 certain suspicions she had always entertained 
 respecting his end were corroborated by a me- 
 morandum found by her in his own handwriting : 
 his temperament had been nervous to excess, 
 and from dwelling upon his commercial losses, 
 his mind, always inchned to ' speculate for the 
 fall,' as his City friends termed it, had given way. 
 Under these circumstances — not in a moment of 
 depression, but after a long duration of it, which 
 admitted of certain cunning arrangements by 
 which he threw all but his wife off the scent 
 — he had committed suicide. The insurance 
 companies had paid the policies, and, what was 
 of much more consequence in the widow's eyes, 
 not a breath of suspicion rested on the dead man.
 
 78 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 To return the money would be to asperse the 
 memory of the man she had loved, and still 
 loved, better than all the world. But Mrs. 
 Med way did not hesitate for a moment ; she 
 made prompt and full restitution, and turning 
 her back upon London, which had no longer 
 any pleasurable associations for her, settled in 
 Cornwall with her children, both at that time 
 of tender age. 
 
 Thither at least it was unlikely that any 
 story with reference to their father's unhappy 
 end would follow them. Her own lips, we may 
 be sure, would have been ever closed respecting 
 it, but for her anxiety on her son's account, who, 
 as she observed, or imagined, began to develop 
 certain traits of character which had belonged 
 to his father. He was not, indeed, subject to 
 depression, but his habits were loo studious, and 
 his disposition too thoughful and sedate, for one
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE, 79 
 
 SO young. A mother's solicitude must be her 
 excuse for attaching to tliese symptoms a too 
 grave significance. To reveal her fears was to 
 aggravate a wound that Time had even vet 
 hardly healed, and to sin against her reverence 
 for the dead ; but to conceal them might be to 
 risk the happiness of the living. In seekino- Dr. 
 Meade's advice for Mark she had been compelled 
 to tell him all, and her confidence had not been 
 misplaced. 
 
 She had found not only a guardian for her 
 son, but a friend for herself. Under other cir- 
 cumstances he would have ridiculed her appre- 
 hensions, which, indeed, were at present at all 
 events sufficiently groundless ; but, as it was, his 
 respect and admiration for her took off all the 
 sharpness of his satire. At the most he allowed 
 himself only a little good-natured raillery, as 
 when he had spoken of Mark's late exertions at
 
 8o KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 tlie oar, of the true nature of which his profes- 
 sional eye had of course at once informed him. 
 One member of the Cote household still 
 remains to be introduced, the cat Gregorius, so 
 called from its peculiar purr, which was supposed 
 to resemble chanting. This animal was a mag- 
 nificent Angora, about whose well-being it was 
 whispered the Doctor was as solicitous as about 
 that of any of his patients. Once he had lost 
 him, though not by the common lot. Gregorius 
 had suddenly disappeared, and neither the gar- 
 den nor the chimney-corner had known him for 
 an entire year. Placards were issued ; rewards 
 were offered ; all that human skill could suggest 
 was tried in vain to win back the wanderer. 
 That any one in Mogadion — even the most 
 wicked of boys — could have wilfully harmed the 
 Doctor's cat was an idea not to be entertained ; 
 the Eector's cynical suggestion that he had been
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE. 8l 
 
 translated to Paradise seemed quite as possible. 
 At the end of twelve months, Gregoriiis was 
 found in his usual chair in the breakfast -room 
 one morning, chanting a httle louder than was 
 his wont, but otherwise unchanged and unmoved. 
 In the interval, as it turned out, he had been to 
 Buenos Ayres and back. A ship at the quay- 
 had been loading for that port, and Gregorius 
 had gone on board — it was supposed for rats — 
 on the day it sailed. She had been out a week, 
 as the captain told the Doctor apologeticallv, and 
 had a fair wind, or he would certainly have 
 put back when his favourite was discovered to 
 be a stowaway. As a matter of fact, the precious 
 creature had never been permitted to set foot 
 on shore at the end of his voyage; but tlie 
 Doctor would declare that Gregorius was full 
 of informaticn respecting South America, and, 
 like the Eector — who had had that reputation 
 
 TOL. I. G
 
 82 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 for forty years — was meditating tlie publication 
 of a book. 
 
 If Mrs. Medway liad needed any claim 
 upon her host's regard she would have found 
 it in the cat's affection for her. JSTo sooner 
 had she taken her seat at the tea-table than 
 Gregorius was on her lap, tapping her hand 
 with his velvet paw to remind her that the 
 clotted cream — recommended by the Doctor 
 as equal to cod-liver oil — was within her reach, 
 and that buttered toast can be procured for 
 a friend, even if one does not care for it for 
 one's own eating. 
 
 'You know what's good,' observed Mrs. 
 Medway caressingly; 'don't you, Gregory?' 
 
 ' He is indeed an excellent judge- of 
 character,' observed the Doctor. ' He took 
 a fancy to you, my dear lady, from the 
 fiis^'
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE. 83 
 
 ' Oil ! but I didn't mean tliat^ I'm sure/ 
 said Mrs. Medway. 
 
 ' My dear Frank, do you hear liow your 
 papa is going on with my mamma ? ' inqun^ed 
 Mark. 
 
 * I'm used to it,' answered Frank laughing ; 
 ' why, bless your heart, that's nothing.' 
 
 ' Yes, but if you or I were to talk like that 
 to any young person ' 
 
 ' It would do YOU a oTeat deal of irood, 
 sir,' exclaimed the Doctor. ' Even a Platonic 
 attachment is better for a young fellow than 
 nothing.' 
 
 ' My dear Doctor,' interposed ]\Ii's. Medway, 
 picturing to herself on the instant her darling 
 fallen m love, and meditating flight from the 
 maternal roof, ' I beg you won't put such 
 notions into Mark's head.' 
 
 ' If they don't come of themselves, my dear 
 
 G 2
 
 84 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 madam,' said the Doctor, drih^, ' they won't 
 come at all. They can't be dibbled in like- 
 potatoes. But they are pretty sure to come 
 sooner or later ; and upon the whole it is 
 better to have them early, and get them over.' 
 As he said these words the Doctor glanced 
 uneasily from Trenna to his son, as though he 
 recognised some signs of an attachment there, 
 which he would have been unwilling to see 
 grow to maturity. 
 
 Trenna's eyes met his own with an ex- 
 pression so cold and stately that it was almost 
 contemptuous. Perhaps she thought that 
 other looks beside his own were fixed upon 
 her. 
 
 Frank, on the other hand, gave no such 
 evidence of self-consciousness. In the boat he 
 liad certainly experienced some emotions of 
 the lover: but the moment of attraction had
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE. ^y 
 
 apparently passed by, or perhaps his present 
 surroundings had recalled liim to everyday 
 life and dissolved his day-dream. He seemed, 
 • indeed, rather amused than concerned ^vith his 
 father's remarks : but, on the other hand, that 
 was how he generally received any observations 
 from the paterual lips, with which he was 
 unable to sympatliise. The Doctor, for 
 example, was prejudiced and somewhat ob- 
 stinate in matters relating to his own profession, 
 slow to change and averse to novelties even 
 when they were substantial improvements. 
 Eut when he pressed these views on Frank, 
 who was of tlie new and more scientific school, 
 the vouni:: man never aro-ued with him, but 
 smiled — anything but acquiescence. This did 
 not arise from irreverence, far from it ; but in 
 matters where principle was concerned he 
 could not bring himself to yield, so 'lightly
 
 S6 KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 put the question by.' Sucli a course of con- 
 duct would have been dangerous with some 
 fathers as provocative of apoplexy ; but the 
 Doctor, who lost his temper with others rather • 
 easily, was never tempted to do so with his 
 son. His sagacity enabled him both to dis- 
 cover Frank's motive for declining the fray, 
 and to perceive the independence of character, 
 or originality of thought, which declined to 
 win the paternal favour by submission. 
 
 Upon the present occasion, however, be- 
 cause he felt the silence to be a little embar- 
 rassing, Frank was about to make some 
 humorous defence of First Love, of which his 
 fatlier had spoken so disparagingly, when he 
 was interrupted by an exclamation from Mrs. 
 Med way. 
 
 ' Why, dear me,' she cried, ' there's Host 
 K umber Two. You see. Doctor, nobody trusts
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE. 87 
 
 you with their guests a bit longer than they 
 are obhgecl to do.' 
 
 ' Mr. Garston gave me the loan of you for 
 half an hour,' said the Doctor, resolutely ; ' and 
 for five minutes more you are mhie. Xow, my 
 dear sir, I do hope you have not been cutting 
 short poor Jones's will, and putting it into plain 
 English in order to get home to your friends ; 
 the omission of such a beautiful (and expensive) 
 word as hereditaments, as you once explained 
 to me, you know, may be fatal to his heirs.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' inquired the new 
 comer with a puzzled air, and the least tinge 
 of a foreign accent. In appearance he looked 
 very foreign indeed, swart as a Spaniard (indeed 
 he came of a Spanish stock) and squat as a 
 Dutchman, with bright beady eyes, which, 
 cunning rather than intelligent, and wholly 
 destitute of spirituahty, seemed like cheap
 
 88 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 imitations of the brilliant and speaking orbs 
 of his daughter. 
 
 ' Well, I mean,' resumed the Doctor, 
 peevishly, ' that since you have got Maud and 
 Christopher at home, you might have left these 
 other folks a little longer with me — but there, 
 I suppose you have not been home, but have 
 come straight away from Jones.' 
 
 ' I have not come straight away ; I have 
 just come from home. There is no Maud and 
 Christopher there ; what is it you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Then, good Heavens, where are they ? ' 
 exclaimed Mrs. Medway, starting up and clasp- 
 ing her hands. 
 
 * Where are they .^ why, on the river, of 
 course,' answered the Doctor, gaily, but with a 
 swift significant glance towards his son — or 
 rather towards the place where his son had 
 stood, for Frank had left the room on the
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE. 89 
 
 instant, accompanied by Trenna, upon a quest 
 the speaker understood at once. ' They are 
 drifting down the river slowly,' he continued 
 in the same cheerful tone, ' as young people 
 will do who find themselves in the same boat 
 together, and imagine they wish it to last for 
 life.' 
 
 'But the tide would have brought them 
 here without the help of oars by this time,' 
 exclaimed Mark with a scared look. ' I will 
 take a boat at once and see what has become 
 of them.' 
 
 ' Oh no, no ! ' cried his mother in a voice 
 of agony. 'Is it not enough that Maud, my 
 darling Maud, may have perished in that 
 dreadful river ? Let a boat be sent at once ; 
 but, for Heaven's sake, let others go, Mark, 
 and not you.' 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Medway,' said the Doctor
 
 'go KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 soothingly. ' you are distressing yourself quite 
 
 unnecessarily. Christopher swims like a fish, 
 
 does he not, Garston ? — and even Maud herself 
 
 can swim a little.' 
 
 ' Not in the river ; not in such a tide as 
 
 that,' cried Mrs. Med way, wringing her hands. 
 
 ' Eun, Mark — a boat, a boat ; but promise 
 
 me ' 
 
 Mark had rushed to the door ere his mother 
 
 had concluded her appeal, but the Doctor's 
 
 hand was on his shoulder. ' Stop where you 
 
 are for your mother's sake,' he whispered. 
 
 ' Look, look ; there goes the boat,' he added 
 
 aloud triumphantly, ' with the best oarsmen in 
 
 it in all Mogadion, and the best of coxswains, 
 
 albeit she is a woman.' 
 
 He pointed to the open window, through 
 
 which the same boat in which the party 
 
 had arrived, but with Frank at the oar,
 
 AT THE DOVECOTE. 91 
 
 and Trenna at the stern, could be seen shooting 
 across the harbour hke a bird. ' Garston, my 
 man,' he continued cheerfully, for the other 
 had dropped into a chair with an expression 
 difficult to translate, but of reflection and 
 embarrassment rather than of distress, ' you 
 have a daughter to be proud of.' 
 
 ' But Kit, Kit ! ' observed the lawyer 
 uneasily. 
 
 ' Kit will be all right, and Maud will be all 
 right ; if they are on the river Frank will find 
 them, and if anything — that is, if they have had 
 a ducking — they will be on land. Eachel, 
 order the waggonette instantly — at once.' 
 
 ' My carriage,' murmiu:ed Mr. Garston. 
 
 ' Nonsense ! your carriage is a fine afiair — 
 and you have a fine coachman who will take a 
 fine time to put to. Xow here we are, rough 
 but ready. There, I hear the wheels already.
 
 92 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 We will go by the road, we four, so that we 
 shall be sure to meet our young friends, even if 
 the boat should miss them.' 
 
 Within such a space of time as could only 
 have been possible in a doctor's household, 
 used to emergencies and despatch, the wag- 
 gonette and pair was at the door ; and at the 
 words, ' Quick, the Knoll ! ' started at a gallop 
 with its anxious tenants.
 
 93 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 
 
 Mark Iiad been mistaken wlien he observed 
 that, even if Kit and [Mand had suffered their 
 Hght boat to drift down the stream, it would 
 have carried them to Mogadion by the time 
 which liad elapsed since the rest of the party 
 had reached it. It would have doubtless done 
 so had the tide continued to ebb, but it was 
 almost on the turn when they had embarked ; 
 a circumstance which had not escaped the 
 notice of Frank, though it tended but little to 
 decrease his anxiety. However little Kit had 
 exerted himself, it was certain that the skiff
 
 94 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 was overdue ; and, as we have seen, Frank had 
 not lost a moment in investigatmg the cause of 
 its delay. The quickness with which Trenna 
 had understood his look, and his movement 
 towards the door when her father's news was 
 told, had been marvellous ; one would have 
 almost said that such a tacit appeal could not 
 have been so instantly understood and acted 
 upon unless the two had been bound together 
 by that common sympathy which exists only 
 in the hearts of those who love one another. 
 Sach an idea, however (even if the time had 
 been fitting for the entertainment of it), would 
 never have crossed Prank Meade's mind ; it 
 was the thought of Kit's being in peril, as 
 Frank well knew, which had so sharpened 
 Trenna's quick wits. Her brother was all in 
 all to her ; and though if Mark, for example, 
 had been with his sister in Kit's place, Trenna
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 95 
 
 would have done all she could for them, the 
 tidings that had just fallen on her ear would 
 not have driven the blood from her cheeks, and 
 made her large eyes wild with terror as it had 
 done. 
 
 ' You must steer, Trenna,' cried Frank, as 
 they ran down the garden, ' and I will take the 
 oars ; we shall get on almost as fast that way, 
 and you \vill be able to keep a good look ^^jt.' 
 
 She bowed her head in assent, but at the 
 same time a shudder ran through her slight 
 frame. 
 
 ' A good look out for wliat ? ' was her 
 dismal thought ; ' not for the boat and its 
 occupants, for they could hardly be passed by 
 unnoticed, but for the boat witliout its occu- 
 pants, or perhaps for a pale corpse, whose 
 hands, no more to be clasped in liers, should
 
 96 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 be holding in their last clutch some broken 
 branch or river weed ! ' 
 
 Notwithstanding the tumult of her mind 
 and the haste of her movements, it was notice- 
 able how deftly she seated herself in the boat 
 and took the rudder-lines, while Frank on his 
 part seized the oars with a promptness alto- 
 gether distinct from hurry and settled to his 
 work on the instant. If the lives of the missing 
 pair were in any way dependent upon human 
 skill and intelhgence, they were fortunate 
 indeed in those to whom their succour had been 
 entrusted. Not a word was spoken till the 
 boat left the harbour and entered the river ; 
 then ' Keep the midstream,' said Meade, ' and 
 watch the left bank while I watcli the right.' 
 
 They thus proceeded for some minutes at 
 great speed, keeping their eyes on the swirling
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 97 
 
 stream with its occasional freight of branch and 
 brier. 
 
 ' What can have happened, Frank ? ' mur- 
 mured Trenna, suddenly. 
 
 It was the first time she had ever called 
 him ' Frank ' ; though his mind was full of 
 Maud at the time he noticed the fact, and set it 
 down to its true cause ; her anxiety and alarm 
 were such that she used the first word that 
 came into her mind, and quite unconsciously. 
 
 ' Heaven knows, Trenna ! ' he answered. 
 ' Some accident has probably happened to the 
 boat ; Kit may have lost an oar. I have known 
 him do so ; he is not very careful. In that 
 case they would have had to put to shore.' 
 
 Trenna shook her head. ' He would not 
 have been careless in Maud's company,' was 
 her significant rejoinder. 
 
 ' Her safety, if it were threatened, would 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 have been his only thought, no doubt,' rephed 
 the other, gently. 
 
 ' Yes, that is the worst of it.' 
 
 ' The worst of it ! ' 
 
 ' Did I say that ? What I meant was that 
 at all hazards to himself he would have striven 
 to save her. In a stream like this we know 
 what must come of such Quixotry. Two lives 
 are lost in place of one.' 
 
 The words were uttered with a certain 
 impatience and indignation, that struck her 
 companion. 
 
 ' Good Heavens, Trenna ! would you have 
 had liim forsake her, under any circumstances ? ' 
 
 ' I would have had him preserve his life,' 
 she answered fiercely ; ' no woman's life is 
 worth such a life as Kit's. Oh Kit, dear Kit ! ' 
 To reason with her Frank saw was useless ; he 
 rowed on in silence till presently the girl
 
 THE SEARCHERS. 99 
 
 exclaimed with agitation, ' Gently, gently, 
 there is something yonder.' 
 
 He turned round and beheld some object 
 tossing and swirling in an eddy under a horn of 
 the left bank. He drew up to it swiftly, and 
 Trenna put her hand out and dragged it into 
 the boat. It was a skiff's rudder. 
 
 A glance at it was sufficient for Frank, who, 
 without a word, continued his exertions. One 
 would have thought that he had already done 
 all that man and oar could do, but this incident 
 appeared to incite him to still greater speed. 
 The boat seemed to fly out of the water rather 
 than through it, with every stroke. 
 
 ' What is the use, Frank ? ' exclaimed 
 Trenna, a touch of admiration mingling with 
 her despair ; ' you are spending strength and 
 breath in vain. If he — if they are not on land 
 by this time they must be beyond human aid.' 
 H 2
 
 loo KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' The Tusk, the Tusk,' he murmured, and 
 phed his sculls as before. Then she under- 
 stood on what he built his hopes. 
 
 The Tusk, so called from its sharp point, 
 was in mid stream, not far from where they 
 were ; in dry seasons, when the stream was 
 low, it formed a small island, and was always 
 visible during the ebb tide. But after rain, 
 when the tide had begun to flow, it was sub- 
 merged, and to those who were unacquainted 
 with the navigation of the river was a most 
 dangerous object. - The weather had been wet 
 of late, which made the chance a very slender 
 one, but there was a possibility if the skiff had 
 gone to pieces there (as was most likely) that 
 its tenants might have found foothold on the 
 Tusk itself. Escape from it, unless the 
 swimmer was both strong and skilful, would 
 have been impossible, for the stream on both 
 sides was exceptionally swift and deep.
 
 THE SEARCHERS. loi 
 
 They were now rounding a corner which 
 disclosed the reach of the river wherein this 
 rock was situated, and Trenna was straining her 
 aching eyes to catch sight of it in vain. She 
 did not know, as Frank knew, the exact spot 
 where it was situated. Suddenly he ceased 
 rowing and uttered a deep sigh. 
 
 ' What is the matter ? Are you hurt ? ' 
 she gasped ; for the moment she thought that 
 his immense exertions had ruptured a blood- 
 vessel. He shook his head and pointed to the 
 water behind her, through which the Tusk was 
 plainly visible. Indeed, while she looked at it 
 some lull of the wave bared a few inches of 
 smooth rock beneath it, which stood up like a 
 gray gxavestone. 
 
 Then the rudder strings fell from the girl's 
 hold and she fainted away.
 
 I02 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 THE 'tusk/ 
 
 The spot from which the voyagers to and from 
 the Knoll landed and embarked, and on which 
 the gate of its ' wilderness ' opened, was by no 
 means an ordinary landing-stage. 
 
 There was a fishermen's village, the inmates 
 of which were on something more than ' visiting 
 terms ' with the Medway family. Maud and 
 her mother visited them indeed, but not with 
 tract in hand, in the patron-mission manner. 
 The villagers and she were the best of friends, 
 and the children idolised her. It happened, 
 therefore, that though the family barge and its
 
 THE 'TUSK: 103 
 
 inmates had got off with not much molestation, 
 Maud and Kit, who were slower in their move- 
 ments, became the victims of juvenile enthu- 
 siasm. Every child wanted a word or a pat 
 on the head from Miss Maud, and she was too 
 good-natured to refuse them. Her companion, 
 though in general children were not much in 
 his way (except in the obnoxious sense), 
 secretly favoured this demonstration, since it 
 prolonged delay. It was not often that he had 
 the chance of a tete-a-tete with Maud Medway, 
 and he greatly appreciated it. 
 
 She could not be said to shun him, but she 
 did not seek his companionship, which on this 
 occasion, as it will be remembered, had been 
 imposed upon her by Trenna. She liked Kit 
 very well and enjoyed his society ; but she 
 preferred to enjoy it with others : and the 
 reason was, though she had never acknowledged
 
 I04 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 it even to herself, she was afraid of liking him 
 too much. It is sad, but true, that there are 
 people whom we like more than we respect, 
 and better than those whom we respect ; and 
 this was the case in the present instance. She 
 admired Kit's comeliness, his intelhgence, and 
 his geniality, but her regard for him was 
 clouded with a doubt. In the case of words 
 spoken against the powerful, we are informed 
 that the birds of the air will carry the matter ; 
 but what one says and does in an English 
 country town, whether in reference to the 
 powerful or otherwise, are seeds caught up by 
 every wind and carried all over the neighbour- 
 hood, to bear their crop in due or undue 
 season. If all of us have not our enemies we 
 have at least our detractors, and the Garston 
 family was no exception to the rule. The 
 head of it was unpopular even to a greater
 
 THE 'TUSK: 105 
 
 degree than a coimtrv attorney is bound to be 
 — at all events, to some folks. The keeping 
 of a gig was in Thurtell's days a proof of 
 respectabihty, but Mr. Garston kept a carriage 
 and pair, and yet had not succeeded in estab- 
 lishing that matter beyond dispute. Xobody 
 quite knew where liis money came from, nor 
 indeed whether he really had any. His pro- 
 fessional practice was small, and exceedingly 
 sharp. His appearance, as we have seen, was 
 far fi'om impressive ; his manner towards his 
 inferiors was harsh, and to those above him in 
 position too conciliatory. If it had not been 
 for the attractions of his son and daughter, 
 Mr. Garston the elder would have had much 
 difficulty in getting into society at all. Xone 
 but very dull or pretentious folks had ever 
 found fault with Kit's manners — when he 
 wished to please. Indeed, it was whispered —
 
 io6 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 and, when a whisper is widespread it is as bad 
 as anything spoken out — that in certain 
 quarters he had been found only too irre- 
 sistible ; and that he had been sent to college 
 (where he had now been two years) not so 
 much for learning, which Mr. Garston, senior, 
 despised, nor for tone and polish (of which the 
 young man stood in no need), as to keep him 
 out of mischief. There were rumours also of 
 his extravagant habits, and of quarrels with 
 his father in consequence of them, which it 
 had taken all Trenna's address to heal. 
 
 Mark had heard these scandals, and had 
 disbelieved them, as he would have disbelieved 
 anything else said to his friend's discredit ; and 
 as Mark thought, so his mother thought. But 
 Maud, who thought for herself, had concluded 
 there could hardly be such volumes of smoke 
 without a spark or two. She was not the sort
 
 THE 'TUSK: 107 
 
 of girl to gossip with her maid, but simple 
 Lucy Deeds, who stood in no great awe of her 
 kind young mistress, had now and then spoken 
 of the ' goings on ' at the White House (as Mr. 
 Garston's residence was called, where her 
 brother Abel was in service) in a manner that 
 was rather alarming. 
 
 All this, however, for she was a true woman 
 (that is, a bit of a hypocrite), you would never 
 have guessed from her manner when in Kit's 
 company ; nor, with all his cleverness, did he 
 guess it. He thought her hght indifferent way 
 with him was natiu-al to her, 'and a proof that 
 she cared little for him. In the case of any 
 other girl he would have felt piqued at this 
 and even angry, but in Maud it grieved him, 
 because he loved her. He often shot an arrow 
 at her in hopes to hit a soft spot in her heart.
 
 io8 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 wHcli she turned aside as it were with a wicker 
 shield. 
 
 ' Are you going to trust me with the tiller 
 ropes, Kit?' she inquired as she lightly took her 
 seat in the skiff. 
 
 ' Of course I am,' and as the boat shot from 
 the shore he added, in a lower tone, ' I would 
 trust you with anything.' 
 
 The sentiment was one which, as we have 
 said, she could hardly have reciprocated in any 
 case, but the expression of it, so early on the 
 voyage, made her almost wish that it was over. 
 
 ' I am not such a good coxswain as Trenna, 
 remember,' she answered. 
 
 ' You have nothing to guard against except 
 the Tusk, which is very sharp though often 
 concealed, hke the sting in a lady's speech,' 
 replied Kit, who was a little annoyed by her 
 ignoring of his pretty compliment.
 
 THE 'tusk: 109 
 
 ' You misquote the metaphor,' she answered 
 gaily ; ' the keenness of the tooth is compared 
 by Shakespeare to man's ingratitude.' 
 
 It was injudicious of her to venture upon the 
 poets. 
 
 ' To that sarcasm,' he answered, ' since you 
 are for quotations, I can honestly reply, "Sweet, 
 it hurts not." I may be worthless, Maud, but I 
 am not ungrateful.' 
 
 ' I am sure you are not, though indeed I am 
 not aware that I have ever laid you under any 
 obhgation.' 
 
 ' I am sorry for it,' he answered simply. 
 
 ' Sorry for what ? ' 
 
 ' Sorry that you do not know I am under 
 an obhgation to you.' 
 
 If he had expected she would reply ' Under 
 what obligation P ' he was mistaken. There was 
 a tenderness in his tone which put her more on
 
 no KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 her guard than ever. Since she could not 
 parry him with a joke as usual, she resolved to 
 adopt the role of sister, v^hich their long friend- 
 ship and familiarity permitted her to do. 
 
 ' Eeally, Kit, your modesty overwhelms me. 
 If it comes to obligation the indebtedness is 
 ours, not yours. But for you we should not 
 now have Mark with us, and what would the 
 Knoll be without Mark ? If anything had 
 happened to him I do believe I should have 
 lost my mother also.' 
 
 ' Yes,' he answered thoughtfully, ' they always 
 remind me of that hne in Circumstance^ " Two 
 lives bound up in one in golden ease." I cannot 
 picture one apart from the other ; while their 
 confidence in the future as bringing no change 
 is so touching, and ' — he added after a pause — 
 ' so pitiful.' 
 
 ' But change is not necessarily for the worse,'
 
 THE 'TUSK? Ill 
 
 observed Maud, eager for the security of philo- 
 sophic argument. 
 
 ' In their case it can hardly be for the 
 better,' he answered ; ' that is the one advantage 
 in being miserable ; one hopes, though one is 
 generally a fool for hoping, that things must 
 mend.' 
 
 ' You must know very little about misery, 
 Kit : to judge by your high spirits you ought 
 to be the happiest of men.' 
 
 He shook his head and dipped the oar blade 
 lightly in the water. The tide had slackened 
 and gave them little aid ; their progress was 
 but slow. ' You are mistaken there, Maud ; 
 and as to being the happiest of men — good 
 Heavens ! ' He laughed bitterly, then added 
 with gratitude, ' Not but that there are possi- 
 bilities of such a thing even for me ; I might 
 be made so.'
 
 112 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Maud felt her colour rising, and strove to 
 keep it down in vain. ' Oh, as to that,' she 
 said, ' I believe that the happiness of all of us 
 rests with ourselves.' The platitude of her re- 
 mark still further betrayed her embarrassment, 
 and she knew it. 
 
 ' In your mother's case, for example ? ' he 
 answered. 
 
 ' Well, mamma is an exception ; she is not 
 so much herself as herself and Mark.' 
 
 ' Say, rather, " Mark and herself," ' he 
 put in, smihng ; ' he is the substance, she the 
 shadow.' 
 
 ' And yet you, who saved him for her, would 
 have me think that we are under no obligation. 
 What a terrible fate, too, was that from which 
 you delivered him ! Mammia has never had 
 the courage even to speak of it.' 
 
 ' Yes ; an early death is of itself no great 
 misfortune, perhaps, for many a man ; but the
 
 THE 'TUSK.' U3 
 
 manner of it would in his case have been ex- 
 ceptionally painful — at all events to think of.' 
 
 ' How was it exactly ? ' 
 
 ' You must have heard it a hundred times.' 
 
 ' Never from the one person qualified to 
 tell it.' 
 
 ' Well, we were alone together, Mark and I. 
 It was the Saturday half-holiday, and we had 
 gone to the sand-chfF, where they find the scythe- 
 stones. Each man has his burrow there, just 
 as you see in the silver mines above Mogadion, 
 but they were taking hohday like ourselves. 
 In the sheds outside they had left their picks 
 and shovels, which, as it turned out, was lucky. 
 Most of the tunnels are safe enough, well 
 propped with fi'r stakes ; but in others the 
 owners are too poor, or too careless, to take 
 that precaution, or they have sold their stakes 
 for drink, and chance it. They dig in constant 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 KIT : A MEMORY 
 
 danger. Tt is like living in a house with a roof, 
 but without walls. Being schoolboys it was, of 
 course, one of the unsafe ones we chose for our 
 explorations.' 
 
 ' I always heard,' interposed Maud, ' that 
 Mark ran in before you could stop him, and 
 that you followed at the risk of your own life.' 
 
 ' Well, I was older and knew the danger 
 better ; moreover, I saw that the tunnel in 
 question had fallen into disuse, a sign of its 
 being very perilous ; so I ran in after him and 
 called, " Come out, come out ! " Perhaps, my 
 voice brought down the sand, in which case 
 Mark had nothing to thank me for, but at all 
 events down it came.' 
 
 ' How horrible ! What did it feel hke ? ' 
 
 ' Like what it was ; we were buried alive. 
 Mark had turned at my cry, and was coming 
 towards me, but of course I was nearer to the
 
 THE 'TUSK: 115 
 
 adit. The sand was in my mouth, my ears, my 
 nostrils ; it cluni? around me as though it were 
 taking a cast of every hmb ; but fortunately it 
 was dry ; if it had been damp I should not 
 have been here this evening in the cool summer 
 weather talking to you, Maud.' 
 
 * Xo, indeed ; but I am thankful to say you 
 are here. Well, what did you do then ? ' 
 
 * With a great effort, I managed to scramble 
 through the sand, as one plunges through a 
 snowdrift, and found myself outside. For the 
 moment I fancy I must have lost my senses ; 
 for I don't remember picking up the spade. 
 Heavens ! how I dug till I saw Mark's arm 
 sticking out like a dead branch, and then how 
 I pulled. It makes me hot to think of it 
 even now.' 
 
 ' On the contrary, it makes me shiver to 
 listen to you,' cried Maud, excitedly. ' How 
 1 2
 
 ii6 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 near you must both of you.liave been to 
 death.' 
 
 ' Mark was certainly near it. His face was 
 quite white and very wet, as though he had 
 been dipping it in the river here, and he was 
 utterly unconscious. I took the sand out of his 
 mouth, and did what I could to restore anima- 
 tion. It was not quite what Dr. Meade would 
 have done, no doubt, but at all events it 
 answered. After a minute or two he breathed 
 my name, just "Kit," but it was the most wel- 
 come sound I had ever listened to.' 
 
 ' No wonder Mark is so fond of you,' 
 said Maud gently ; ' if any one had saved 
 my life like that I should have been theirs 
 for ever.' 
 
 ' Then how I wish it liad been your life.' 
 She had been imprudent, no doubt, in 
 affording him such an opportunity ; she had
 
 THE 'TUSK: 117 
 
 * teed ' the ball for him, as a golf-player 
 would say, and it was no wonder, being quick 
 and bold, that he had taken advantage of it. 
 His tone was so tender and so eacfer that it was 
 impossible to treat his rejoinder as a joke ; or 
 to reply to it otherwise than as to a serious 
 aspiration. 
 
 ' One can't have all one wishes,' she 
 answered gravely, ' and, as Mr. Penr}m said in his 
 sermon last Sunday, it is often fortunate for us 
 that we cannot.' 
 
 ' Still there are some things that we can 
 give to one another if we please,' pleaded 
 Garston, softly. ' There is, for example, no 
 wish of yours, dear Maud, w^hich I would not 
 gratify if it were in my power.' 
 
 ' Then please, Kit, to drop this subject.' 
 
 The answer was curt, no doubt ; but Maud 
 was driven to desperation. She was frightened
 
 Ii8 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 for herself, lest she should yield to this bold 
 wooer, whom she really liked in so many 
 ways ; and alarm when it becomes despair is a 
 sort of courage. Christopher Garston was a 
 very clever fellow, but the reading of a 
 woman's heart was beyond his powers ; if he 
 could have read it now he would have dis- 
 obeyed Maud's orders, and like the valiant 
 sea captain, who would not see his admiral's 
 signals to cease firing, his insubordination 
 might have won the day. As it was he took 
 her words in dudgeon, and for reply only plied 
 his oars with reckless vigour. They flew on 
 in silence down the wooded reach, till suddenly 
 there was a sharp crash ; the frail skiff went 
 to pieces under them in an instant, and they 
 found themselves in the river. 
 
 ' The cool silver shock ' of the stream 
 wherein vou take your ' header,' and for which
 
 THE 'TUSK: 119 
 
 you are prepared, is a very different tiling from 
 the sensation of sudden shipwreck ; but Kit 
 had all his wits about him, and his arm around 
 Maud's waist in a moment, as though he had 
 been a lover on land. There w^as ground 
 beneath his feet, though very little of it, nor 
 was the stream above his shoulders, but it was 
 so strong that he could only stand in it by 
 taking hold of the sharp rock in front of him 
 that had caused the catastrophe. For the 
 moment Maud had no distinct impression of 
 anything, except that she was half drowned, 
 but she knew that the stream was carrying her 
 feet from under her, and that Kit's arm alone 
 sustained her. 
 
 ' Oh, Kit, where is the boat ? ' 
 
 ' The boat has gone to pieces, darling, but 
 you shall be saved.' 
 
 His tone was confident, but his mind was
 
 I20 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 very far from being so. On both sides of 
 them the current ran swift and deep. The 
 Tusk itself, on which they had come to grief 
 had only one jagged tip out of water, and 
 the tide was rising. It was with great difficulty, 
 even now, that he could maintain his footing 
 with such an incumbrance as poor drooping 
 Maud upon his arm. He looked to left and 
 right in vain for any sight of aid ; except by 
 themselves and the fishermen of the village, 
 who were now at sea, and would not return 
 till evening, the' river was little used by any 
 one. Doubtless she read in his face the fears 
 that belied his words. 
 
 ' You are a strong swimmer. Kit,' she cried, 
 with a shiver of terror, ' but you can never get 
 to land with me.' 
 
 ' I can and I will,' he answered boldly. 
 
 ' N05 no ; that will be to drown us both/
 
 THE 'TUSK: 121 
 
 she murmured. ' Can I not cling to the rock 
 till you get help ? ' 
 
 ' The Tusk is almost under water now,' he 
 answered, in quick grave tones, ' and will serve 
 even to hold on to but a few minutes longer. 
 We must take our chance. Listen, Maud ! Our 
 deliverance hes more in yoiu* hands than in 
 mine. If you cling to me, save where I tell 
 you, we shall both perish, but if you hold by 
 my braces — have you got them tight .^ — that will 
 leave my arms free, and you will be supported 
 by my shoulders. Do not struggle, but trust 
 to me.' 
 
 ' I do, I will,' she murmured. 
 
 ' Take breath ; keep cool ; have courage. 
 Mark has told you that I was the best swimmer 
 of all Ludlow's boys ; and for once he did not 
 flatter me. Are you ready ? — off ! ' 
 
 Alone he would have plunged into the
 
 122 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 Stream like an otter ; but with his heavy burden, 
 and doubtful (as he afterwards observed) 
 whether the cargo would not ' shift,' he had to 
 use great precaution. He was obliged to forego 
 all the advantages of an impetus, and to take 
 the water more like a boat than a man. The 
 next minute, however, he was battling with the 
 stream ; his eyes fixed on a little promontory 
 they had just passed. Every limb and muscle 
 were doing their uttermost, and his lungs 
 working like a forcing pump ; but of all that he 
 w^as unconscious ; his mind was where his eyes 
 were. If he could only reach that branch which 
 swept the water yonder all would be well ; and 
 he would have given ten years of his life to 
 grasp it. 
 
 Maud behaved to admiration. At first she 
 w^as terribly frightened ; the common phrase 
 ' only a plank between us and eternity ' was, by
 
 THE 'TUSK: 123 
 
 comparison witli her case, a synonym for 
 security. The plank would have made all the 
 difference in the world to her. Drenched, 
 breathless, frigid, with some power unseen ever 
 striving to drag her downwards, none, who have 
 not known what it is to feel the dark waters of 
 death closing in upon them, can picture what 
 she felt ; but Kit's bold words ' I can and I 
 will ' ever rang in her ears, and Kit's advice, 
 ' Do not struggle, trust to me,' were the lessons 
 her pale dumb hps rehearsed throughout that 
 awful passage. Three times the wave passed 
 over her face : once she sank beneath it : it 
 was plain that Kit had overrated his powers 
 though not his courage : he never lost heart, 
 but strength and breath only just sufficed to 
 accomplish what he had set them to do. 
 
 It was well that the long-looked-for branch 
 hung where it did, since, but for its friendly aid,
 
 124 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 it would have been difficult for him, even when 
 they reached the bank, to climb it. 
 
 After they had taken breath, and were 
 standing in safety, hand in hand, upon the little 
 promontory, Maud looked back upon the 
 river. 
 
 ' Oh, Kit, what a risk you ran for my sake," 
 exclaimed she, with heartfelt gratitude. ' You 
 might have saved yourself with ease.' 
 
 ' Myself ! ' he interrupted scornfully. 
 'What would life have been to me without 
 you ? But come, you are wet and shivering. 
 I must take you home at a run, if possible.' 
 
 The proposition was welcome to her, since 
 it precluded further talk ; indeed, save for a 
 word or two of encouragement, he said no more 
 to her till they reached the village. So tender 
 were her feelings towards him, that if he had 
 put Love's question at that time it would,
 
 THE 'TUSK: 125 
 
 without doubt, have had the reply he longed 
 for ; but, as it was, he had spoken at once too 
 much and too little. There had been nothing 
 definite in that ' What would Hfe have been 
 without you ? ' and certainly nothing binding. 
 On the other hand, it had been very significant ; 
 nor was it likely that he had forgotten what 
 Maud had said not half an hour before, though 
 with no idea of its application to her own case. 
 ' If any one had saved my hfe I should have 
 been theirs for ever.'
 
 126 KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 
 
 Meade and Trenna of course had heard the 
 news of the safety of the missing ones when 
 they reached the village, while a mounted 
 messenger from the Knoll had met the carriage 
 folks on the road with the same glad tidings. 
 It was received with great delight by all, 
 but with a difference ; by Mrs. Med way, for 
 example, with devotional thankfulness, and by 
 Trenna with a sort of ecstatic rapture. 
 
 It would have been hardly an exaggeration 
 to say that her brother was her divinity, and 
 where such feelings in respect to kinship are
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 127 
 
 very powerful the religious instinct is generally 
 in inverse proportion. Mr. Garston, who had 
 kept most command over his feelings even when 
 matters were in doubt, took what the gods had 
 given him — or at least had not taken away from 
 him — without much demonstration of gratitude. 
 To a cynic, who had heard the Mogadion 
 gossip, it might perhaps have occurred that the 
 idea of a recommencement of outgoings had 
 entered into the attorney's mind coincidently 
 with his son's safety ; and it is certainly curious 
 how the letters L.S.D. will sometimes, like those 
 engraved on a shop-window, interfere with the 
 exhibition from without. 
 
 Again, none rejoiced more than Frank 
 Meade at Maud's safety (as for Kit it is enough 
 to say that Frank would have risked his own 
 life for him — as he would have done for any- 
 body else) ; but it was undoubtedly a painful
 
 128 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 thought to him that she owed her safety to 
 Christopher Garston. He was not jealous of 
 that young man in the ordinary sense ; indeed, 
 considering what we know of his late adven- 
 tures with Miss Trenna, it would have been 
 monstrous indeed had he entertained such a 
 feeling ; he did not even say to himself, ' How 
 I wish the opportunity of saving Maud Medway 
 had presented itself to me instead of to that 
 fellow !' But lie greatly regretted that it had 
 offered itself to Kit. He felt that the circum- 
 stance would draw the tie of friendship between 
 him and the family at the Knoll more tightly 
 than before ; and he had never approved of 
 that friendship. 
 
 As to Mark, the late catastrophe of his 
 friend and sister, or rather their escape from it, 
 affected him in a very cuiious way. He was 
 thankful beyond measure that they had been
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 129 
 
 spared to him, for he loved them both, the one 
 hardly less than the other; it was almost as 
 difficult for him to imagine how the world 
 would look to him without Kit in it, as to 
 picture the Knoll without Maud, and to have 
 lost sister and friend at one fell stroke would 
 have prostrated him indeed. But for him, too, 
 in the circumstances of Maud's rescue, there 
 was something of bitterness. He did not 
 grudge Kit his share of it, qua Kit ; indeed, 
 since he had not rescued her himself he was 
 glad that it had fallen to his friend's lot to do 
 it ; but it annoyed him to reflect that had he 
 been in Kit's place Maud would undoubt- 
 edly have perished. What gave liim some- 
 thing worse than annoyance, a sense of in- 
 feriority, was that when the question of help 
 had arisen, Meade, and not he, had been the 
 one to fly to the rescue ; and with him — 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 I30 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 and this was a positive humiliation — had 
 tiown Trenna. He, Mark Medway, a man, 
 had remained behind with his mother, and 
 gone home hke useless baggage in the 
 waggonette, while Trenna Garston, a girl, 
 had done her best to save his sister from a 
 watery grave. 
 
 Such self-upbraidings were of course irra- 
 tional. To be an indifferent oar and a clumsy 
 swimmer are neither of them moral offences ; 
 and it was plain that, with all the good-will in 
 the world, no person unskilled in rowing and 
 swimming would in the case in question have 
 been of any use. Nevertheless, Mark despised 
 himself for these shortcomings, and brooded 
 over what had happened in a manner very 
 unbecoming an antiquary and a philosopher : 
 and the circumstance seemed in his mother's 
 eyes to develop that very faculty of despond-
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 131 
 
 ency Tvhich above all things she dreaded to 
 see in him, lest it might be there by inherit- 
 ance. 
 
 Like Job he had his two Comforters in 
 Frank and Kit, and to do them justice they 
 showed themselves much more sympathetic 
 than Ehphaz and Bildad. Their treatment of 
 his case was indeed altogether different. At 
 one time they endeavoured to show that he 
 was an excellent character, most imnecessarily 
 and unjustly troubled; and at another they 
 chaffed him. 
 
 ' One can't do everything, old fellow, you 
 know,' said Eliphaz, ' and you who are such a 
 swell at antiquities cannot be expected to excel 
 in modern accomphshments. Any fool can 
 swim and row.' 
 
 'I didn't even know in what part of the 
 river, though I had lived by it almost all my 
 K 2
 
 132 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 days,' murmured Mark, woefully, ' that hateful 
 Tusk was.' 
 
 ' Why should you ? ' urged Meade (who of 
 course was Bildad, the second fiddle). ' Is it 
 not enough to know a Druid stone when you 
 see it, and even to be able to decipher the old 
 Cornish description on it ? ' — this was a playful 
 allusion to a certain case, analogous to the 
 famous mistake in the ' Antiquary,' where poor 
 Mark had signally failed. ' Is it not enough, I 
 say, to be on familiar terms with anything old- 
 world, without being acquainted with a mere 
 modern erection like the Tusk — I dare say not 
 a thousand years old ? ' 
 
 ' Then to think of Trenna,' continued Mark, 
 pacing to and fro impatiently, and without 
 paying the least regard to the well-meant 
 banter of his friends, ' to think of a girl like 
 Trenna.'
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 133 
 
 * If you talk of her in that contemptuous 
 way,' interrupted Kit, ' I'll tell her.' 
 
 ' Pshaw, I don't mean that ; of course she's 
 one in a thousand, and as to roAving, she has 
 the pluck and skill of a Grace Darling.' 
 
 ' Come, that's much better,' said Kit, 
 encouragingly. ' I'll tell her you say she is a 
 darling.' 
 
 But chaff and argument were equally 
 thrown away upon Mark. He took his use- 
 lessness to heart in what was really a very 
 strange way, and wliich might have alarmed 
 even a less anxious mother than Mrs. Med- 
 way. 
 
 She had, however, the great advantage of 
 possessing two counsellors devoted to her 
 interests, one, as we have said, who knew her 
 story, and could judge better than most men 
 whether Mark's present behaviour had any
 
 134 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 connection witli it ; the other, not in possession 
 of that secret, but who was thoroughly 
 acquainted with Mark's character, namely, his 
 friend and tutor, Mr. Penryn. Having to 
 choose between the clergyman and the Doctor, 
 the lady naturally decided on consulting the 
 former first ; and under pretence of ' shopping ' 
 in Mogadion, she ordered her little carriage 
 with the Exmoor ponies, one afternoon, while 
 ' the young people ' were at lawn tennis (a 
 phrase which as usual did not include Mark, 
 who was in his own room), and drove over to 
 the Eectory. 
 
 This was situated on the sea-shore in a little 
 wooded bay, very picturesque and retired. It 
 was one of the oldest houses in the place, but 
 stood altogether outside the town. Indeed, the 
 town had early deserted both it and the church 
 (which was beside it) for the larger and more
 
 THE TWO COVJSlSELLORS. 135 
 
 convenient bay which formed the harbour, a 
 circumstance which would not have wounded 
 the feehngs of the present incumbent, even if it 
 had occurred in his time instead of a hundred 
 years ago. The Eector loved his fellow- 
 creatures ; his grave benevolent face and kind 
 blue eyes convinced you of the fact at sight ; 
 but he preferred them at a distance. He was 
 willing enough to go to them when they 
 wanted him, but he did not encourage visits. 
 Xo one ever did him the injustice to call him 
 a misanthrope ; but his neighbours thought 
 him a bit of a hermit, and from their point of 
 view^ they were right. His world lay in his 
 books, and when he had done his parish duties, 
 or had partaken of the hospitalities which he 
 could not decline without discourtesy, he re- 
 turned to his w^orld \\4th eagerness, and plunged 
 into the vortex of archasology.
 
 136 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 His favourite haunt was an old-fashioned 
 summer-house in his garden close by the sea, 
 where, with a book in his hand, and his fore 
 finger on his cheek, as though he would impose 
 silence on the Universe, his studies pursued 
 him. The inversion of the usual expression 
 suited his case exactly. Whenever he was 
 alone and comfortably seated, there came into 
 his brain, unsummoned, some picture of the 
 Past, not of his own past, for his life had been 
 so uneventful as scarce to admit of illustration, 
 but of the prehistoric time in which, in a sense, 
 he dwelt. Though an ecclesiastic himself, it is 
 not too much to say that he felt a more mystic 
 reverence for the Druidical priesthood than for 
 any other. To hear the mistletoe spoken of 
 lightly (as it is apt to be at Christmas-time 
 by the young and thoughtless) distressed his 
 feelings, nor did he ever find himself among
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 137 
 
 the sacred stones, especially when they were 
 arranged in a circle — which marks a family 
 burial-place — without baring his grey head as 
 though in presence of the dead of to-day. If 
 he had had his way, I believe he would have 
 made it a sine qua non in all Cabinet Councils 
 that the Ministers should sit on stones (to which 
 custom his favourite sect attached the utmost 
 importance), instead of chairs. He pretended, 
 indeed, that Science rather than Superstition 
 dictated this preference ; and even went so far 
 as to remark on one occasion in Dr. Meade's 
 presence, that ' it was certainly very curious 
 how almost all ancient nations assigned a 
 certain virtue to stones. Sleeping upon them, 
 for example, the Druids thought, was a cure 
 for lameness.' 
 
 ' Did they, by Jingo ! ' broke in the Doctor. 
 ' I will answer for it that nine out of ten were
 
 138 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 made worse by it, and the tenth man crippled 
 for life.' 
 
 And, indeed, unless rheumatism is a modern 
 invention, it is probable that his view of the 
 stone- couch cure was the correct one. Nothing 
 made the Doctor so furious as, when he in his 
 turn was eulogising the remedies of the past at 
 the expense of those of the present, to liken 
 him to the Eector. 
 
 The antagonism between these two worthies 
 made the keeping in with both of them a 
 delicate and difficult task for Mrs. Medway, 
 and caused her present visit to Mr. Penryn, for 
 the purpose of taking counsel of him as to 
 what should be done with Mark, to be made 
 as secretly and discreetly as though he were 
 some ancient sibyl. If the Doctor should 
 come to know of it he would naturally have 
 thought himself the proper person to whom
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 139 
 
 she should have applied for consultation and 
 advice. 
 
 Mrs. Medway found the Eeclor in his 
 bower poring over his books, from which he 
 ordinarily separated himself to receive people 
 with the alacrity of a fly fi^om treacle. In the 
 present case, however, he rose willingly enough, 
 and offered his visitor a seat which would have 
 been a low one but for a quarto volume which 
 reposed upon it. 
 
 ' You here, my dear Mrs. Medway, and 
 without Mark ! This is, indeed, an honour.' 
 
 ' I wish Mark had been with me,' returned 
 the old lady, naively. ' The fact is, my dear 
 LIr. Penryn, it is upon his account that I have 
 called upon you.' 
 
 'That takes the gilt off the gingerbread,' 
 answered the Eector, smiling ; ' however, that 
 vou have come at all is a thins- to be thankful
 
 I40 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 for. I hope Miss Maud has quite recovered 
 from the effects of her late adventure.' 
 
 ' Oh, Maud is all right, Mr. Penryn, it is 
 Mark, poor fellow, who has suffered from it.' 
 
 'But he wasn't in it,' argued the Eector, 
 amused at what he considered this new proof 
 of the widow's idolatry to her son ; ' however 
 he may have wept for Maud's misfortune, he 
 couldn't have got so wet as she did.' 
 
 ' Oh, it isn't that ; he is not sorry for her, 
 but for himself; that's what makes me so 
 miserable about him.' 
 
 The Eector's eyes had opened pretty wide 
 already ; his mouth now began to follow their 
 example. 
 
 ' Oh, indeed,' he gasped, ' it seems a very 
 bad case.' 
 
 ' It is, Mr. Penryn,' answered the lady, 
 gravely, ' and may be sadder yet ; ' and then
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 141 
 
 she told liim all about it. How Mark re- 
 proached himself and moped, and had lost his 
 health and spirits, without any natural explan- 
 ation of the matter. ' Frank Meade, who is a 
 very sensible young fellow, you know, thinks 
 Mark would be the better for seeing more of 
 the world.' 
 
 ' Does he r ' grunted the Eector. 
 
 ' Well, you know, for a young man,' 
 pleaded Mrs. Medway, who knew what the 
 grunt meant, ' it is not well to be alone, or 
 what is as good as being alone, to be surrounded 
 by a parcel of women.' 
 
 ' You tliink that as good as being alone, do 
 you ? ' inquired Mr. Penryn, slily. 
 
 ' I say for a young man,' reiterated the 
 widow. ' It is really abominable of you, j\Ir. 
 Penryn, when I come here to consult you — 
 instead of going to Dr. Meade, which perhaps
 
 142 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 I should have done — to turn all that I tell you 
 into ridicule. Mark is really in a state of 
 mind which gives me serious cause for appre- 
 hension.' 
 
 ' I hope not that,' said the Eector, sooth- 
 ingly, sobered at once by this allusion to his 
 rival, ' out I can easily believe he is troubled 
 in mind ; he promised to verify some quotation 
 in Borlase for me by Monday, which he would 
 certainly have done had he been himself. 
 Mark is the very soul of punctuality.' 
 
 'He is, indeed,' murmured Mrs. Med way, 
 unctuously, as though he had been called the 
 'soul of honour.' 
 
 ' In that respect he might have been a very 
 Druid,' continued the Eector, reflectively. ' In 
 order to give weight and importance to their 
 public assembhes they practised the custom of 
 cutting to pieces whomsoever came last. This
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 143 
 
 diminished in time tlie attendance, but insured 
 promptness ; perhaps it was the origin of our 
 present fashionable phrase, " Small and early." ' 
 
 ' Perhaps,' assented Mrs. Medway ; ' but 
 we are wandering from the point as to what 
 is to be done with Mark. What do you think 
 of sending him for a few terms to the 
 University ? ' 
 
 ' A few terms ! ' echoed the Eector. ' When 
 you send a lad to college it is like gathering 
 the Marshwort (or Samolus) — or as Medea 
 gathered her magical herbs — there must be no 
 looking behind you ; he must take his degi'ee.' 
 
 ' Oh, but that would take three years,' 
 expostulated the ^vidow ; ' I could never spare 
 Mark for three years. I only thought of the 
 University as a httle change for him.' 
 
 'The University would feel greatly flattered, 
 I am sure,' said the Eector, ' to be thus recom-
 
 144 ^IT : A MEMORY. I 
 
 mended, like Malvern or Buxton, for a fit of the 
 blues. Are you aware, my dear madam, that 
 among the Druids education took no less than 
 twenty years for its accomphshment, and no 
 one was eligible for any public employment 
 without it ? However, perhaps, as you say — 
 though I shall be very sorry, personally, to lose 
 him — a few terms at Oxford ' 
 
 ' But I thought of sending him to Cam- 
 bridge,' put in the widow, ' so that he could be 
 with his friend Kit, you know. You see no 
 objection to that, do you?' For the Eector's 
 face had suddenly become very grave. 
 
 'Well, I never thought of Cambridge. 
 Why, goodness gracious, they would make him 
 learn mathematics at Cambridge ! ' 
 
 ' Do you think that would be bad for him ? ' 
 inquired the widow, apprehensively. 
 
 ' I think it would be a degradation of his
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 145 
 
 intellect, madam. A man who, being yet a 
 minor, has corrected the antiquarian Borlase in 
 more than one particular, should hardly be set 
 to learn, for example, logarithms.' 
 
 ' I know you are not fond of Kit,' said 
 Mrs. Medway ; * but you cannot deny that Kit 
 is fond of Mark.' 
 
 The remark seemed altogether devoid of 
 pertinence, but it brought the colour into the 
 Eector's wrinkled cheek. It was not after all, 
 it seemed, the fear of Mark's being taught 
 mathematics which had led him to suo-crest 
 Oxford and not Cambridge. 
 
 ' Besides,' continued Mrs. Medway, ' if Kit's 
 society could have harmed Mark it would have 
 harmed him long ago, Mr. Penryn.' 
 
 ' I never said Christopher Garston's society 
 harmed Mark,' said the Eector, ' and I readily 
 admit that he never meant to harm him.' 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 'Very good, then we may dismiss that 
 notion altogether. Now, on the other hand, 
 upon all worldly matters Kit is qualified to 
 advise Mark.' 
 
 ' No doubt,' said the Eector, in a tone that 
 imphed, ' he has a superfluity of that kind of 
 knowledge, I don't deny.' 
 
 ' Altogether,' said Mrs. Med way, ' I think 
 it's the best thing to be done. What do you 
 say?' 
 
 ' My dear madam, when I see that a lady 
 has made up her mind I never say anything. 
 As for me — speaking selfishly — I deplore the 
 resolution you have come to. I shall miss 
 Mark more than I can say.' 
 
 ' Of course you will,' rejoined the widow, 
 simply ; ' but how much more shall I miss 
 him ? It is only the necessity of the case, you 
 mny be sure, that compels me to suggest sueh
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 147 
 
 a course. I am sincerely glad to find, how- 
 ever, that it meets with your approval.' 
 
 The Eector smiled a little sardonically. 
 
 ' Then we shall have him back,' she added, 
 consolingly, ' in the vacations just the same as 
 ever.' 
 
 ' You think so. My dear madam, it was 
 the custom of the priestesses of Bacchus to 
 unroof his temple, and to endeavour to restore 
 it, before sunset, in exactly the same condition 
 as before. If one of the ladies omitted to 
 replace a stone in its exact position she was 
 put to death.' 
 
 ' That must have made them very careful,' 
 observed the wddow\ 
 
 ' No doubt ; but for all that, the temple 
 was never the same temple. And this will be 
 the case with Mark.' 
 
 Mrs. Medway laughed at this as she woidd 
 l2
 
 148 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 have laughed at any suggestion of change in 
 her beloved son, and took her leave well 
 pleased. If the Eector had not fallen into her 
 plans with effusion, he had, at all events, made 
 no serious objection to them. 
 
 Flushed with success, she resolved to call 
 upon the Doctor on her way home, and obtain, 
 if possible — so superfluous are women in their 
 wants and ways — another opinion in favour of 
 her own ideas. 
 
 It is but fair, perhaps, to add that she was 
 a little alarmed lest the Doctor should hear of 
 her having consulted the Eector from any 
 other lips but her own. I am afraid she 
 gave that excellent physician to understand 
 that Mr. Penryn's opinion had been a more 
 casual one than it had actually been, while, 
 on tne other hand, she by no means exag- 
 jrerated the Eector's sympathy with her
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 149 
 
 scheme. She knew human nature, or, at all 
 events, her present companion, better than 
 to do that. 
 
 ' You see Mr. Penryn is a University man 
 himself. Doctor ; and he has his fears about 
 mathematics, and so forth ; in short, -that dear 
 Mark's brain may be overwrought.' 
 
 ' By study at college ! ' returned the Doctor 
 acidly ; ' you may set your mind at rest as to 
 that, madam.' 
 
 ' Well now, that is just what I wanted to 
 hear from you, my dear Dr. Meade. You 
 know Mark so thoroughly, and yet, as I under- 
 stand, you see no objection to his going to 
 Cambridge more than to Oxford ? ' 
 
 The Doctor pushed out his lower hp, which 
 was his manner of expressing contemptuous 
 indifference. 
 
 ' I see no more objection to Tweedledum
 
 ISO KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 than to Tweedledee,'* was his not very en- 
 couraging reply. 
 
 ' Yes, but at Cambridge, remember, Mark 
 will have Kit, at all events for a month or two, 
 to advise him, and see that he does not set 
 into scrapes.' 
 
 'Ah, indeed! Well, I should think Kit, 
 as you call him, was not without experience 
 in that way.' 
 
 It was curious how both the Eector and 
 the Doctor, who agreed in nothing else, were 
 at one upon the subject of Christopher Garston. 
 Their common prejudice on this matter, how- 
 ever, made very httle impression upon Mrs. 
 Medway. Kit was her son's bosom friend, and 
 therefore her friend, and, though she could not 
 but perceive his unpopularity with her two 
 counsellors, she ignored it. 
 
 ' Young men will be young men,' she said ;
 
 THE TWO COUNSELLORS. 151 
 
 'I dare say Christopher Garston is not fauhless. 
 But my son Mark, as you know, Doctor, is 
 very different from the common type.' 
 
 'He is different now, madam, because his 
 bringing up has been different. Nay, I don't 
 mean to say he is not an excellent good fellow, 
 and will always remain so, but the simplicity- 
 which is so attractive to us all will vanish if you 
 send him elsewhere. Perhaps, however, you 
 have made up your mind to a change in him.' 
 
 Mrs. Medway had made up her mind for 
 nothing of the sort. It staggered her not a 
 little that both Dr. Meade and Mr. Penryn 
 should have warned her that Mark might not 
 return from college the same Mark she had 
 sent there : but she had thought out her plan 
 already with too many tears to be disheartened 
 anew about it. And the necessity of some- 
 thing being done with him seemed imperative
 
 152 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 AN INTERRUPTED GAME. 
 
 While Mrs. Medway, like a skilful lawyer 
 from not too willing witnesses, was collecting 
 corroboratory evidence of the wisdom of her 
 own conclusions, her ' young people ' — in 
 which term she was wont to include Frank 
 and the Garstons, as though they had been 
 her own belongings — were prosecuting their 
 lawn tennis at the Knoll, as though hfe 
 depended on their exertions. 
 
 When I watch folks at that pastime, who 
 have any claim to be considered proficient, or, 
 as the phrase goes, who ' rather fancy them-
 
 AN INTERRUPTED GAME. 153 
 
 selves ' at it, I sometimes wonder whether any 
 other occupation in the world was ever pursued 
 with the like vigour and intensity. One half 
 such a spirit thrown into business matters 
 would make a man a millionaire ; or, if it took 
 him in what may be called ' the other direc- 
 tion ' (towards devotion), would set him up 
 in good practice as a saint. Frank was not 
 quite so agile as Kit, but had a longer reach. 
 Maud was not so quick on her legs as Trenna, 
 but was more skilful. A better match than 
 Frank and Trenna, versus Kit and Maud, it was 
 impossible to imagine. 
 
 Mark, with a book in his hand, watched 
 them dreamily from his window and envied 
 their enthusiasm, which, at the same time, it 
 wearied him to witness. Could it be the same 
 blood, he wondered, that was bounding through 
 his sister's veins, mounting in roses to her
 
 154 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 cheeks, and inspiring her to those feats of grace 
 and swiftness, as stagnated in his own ? Was 
 it possible that Frank and Kit, with all that 
 skill and elan^ were really the contemporaries 
 of such an one as himself, buried in books, 
 living in the past more than in the present, and 
 without interest in human affairs ? Of all the 
 players Trenna attracted him the least, and 
 this too he knew was a proof of his singularity 
 and isolation. He saw that she was beautiful, 
 as he saw that the scene beneath him — the 
 garden, the wilderness, and the sea — were beau- 
 tiful ; and yet in the pleasure which her beauty 
 conferred on his own sex, and which in Frank 
 Meade, for example, aroused the keenest 
 admiration, and would sometimes fill his face, 
 like torch applied to torch with an answ^ering 
 glow, he had no share. Kit's voice was music 
 to him, but Kit's sister's voice fell on his ear
 
 AiV INTERRUPTED GAME. 155 
 
 and touched no responsive chord. Was he 
 made for friendship, then, and not for love ? 
 or was he even made for friendship ? Kit and 
 Frank were attached to him, he knew ; but, as 
 it seemed to him, without desert. Their affec- 
 tion for him was as irrational as his mother's 
 idolatry. He saw himself a dreamer, in- 
 animate and useless, a mere stick for others' 
 tendrils. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Mark Medway pos- 
 sessed one of thfe simplest and sweetest of na- 
 tures with which man was ever endowed, and 
 by this magic attracted his fellow-creatures. 
 What is still more rare, he combined consider- 
 able learning with great modesty. He had 
 absolutely no egotism ; the present was his 
 first attack of self-consciousness, and it was 
 therefore a severe one. His regrets tliat he 
 could neither swim nor row were about as
 
 156 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 reasonable as though some devoted mission- 
 ary should bewail his incompetency at 
 five-card cribbage ; but they were genuine 
 nevertheless. 
 
 There are occasions when the student envies 
 the athlete ; not for his thews and sinews, 
 indeed, and still less for the feats he accom- 
 phshes with them, but for the succour and 
 protection they enable him to afford to others ; 
 and this was one of them. 
 
 Mark did not grudge it to Kit that he owed 
 his sister's life to him, nor was his weight of 
 obligation to him less than when he had saved 
 his own ; but in this case there was a certain 
 sense of humiliation. He had always thought 
 himself the inferior of both his friends, but the 
 reflection had never before pained him. How 
 was it that they appreciated the mere joys of 
 living —
 
 AN INTERRUPTED GAME. 157 
 
 The leaping from rock up to rock, 
 
 The cool silver shock 
 
 Of the pool's liyiEg waters, 
 
 while to him they were nought, and never had 
 been ? It was not that he was an old man 
 before his time, but that he seemed to himself 
 never to have been a man at all, nor a boy. 
 How like boys they ran hither and thither with 
 cunning hand and eye, struck tlie ball w^here 
 they would, and enjoyed their own strength and 
 skill ! He watched them as some inmate of 
 the cloister, doubtful of his calling and dissatis- 
 fied with his lot, might watch two worldlings at 
 their play — and envied them. 
 
 As he did so, he saw Lucy, who fulfilled the 
 duties of parlour-maid as well as of Maud's 
 handmaid in their simple household, come out 
 into the tennis-ground with a letter. For a 
 few moments she stood there unnoticed, not 
 liking to interfere with the game, but presently
 
 158 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Trenna missed an easy ball. There was a 
 storm of disapproval from her opponents, who 
 were critics first and rivals afterwards. Frank 
 was gallantly about to frame an excuse for 
 his partner, when she exclaimed, ' There is 
 Lucy ; there is something the matter.' 
 
 Lucy, it was true, was looking towards Kit, 
 with the letter in her hand, otherwise there was 
 nothing to account for Trenna's exclamation. 
 At the time no one thought anything of it ; 
 but one of the party had afterwards reason to 
 remember it. 
 
 ' It is for you, Mr. Christopher,' said 
 Lucy ; ' I was to ask, please, was there any 
 answer ? ' 
 
 'For me, is it?' Kit opened the letter, 
 read it through in a flash, and thrust it into 
 his pocket. ' I am afraid I must break up 
 your game,' he said ; ' I am wanted a^ home.'
 
 AN INTERRUPTED GAME. 159 
 
 ' What's the matter ? Mr. Garston is not 
 ill, I hope,' said Maud. 
 
 ' No ; the Governor is all right, thank you. 
 It's a matter of business.' 
 
 Here his eye fell on Lucy, a comely, 
 honest-looking country lass. The concern 
 in the countenances of the others was visibly 
 reflected on her face ; anything that touched 
 the family and their friends touched Lucy. 
 
 ' Tell the messenger,' he began thought- 
 fully 
 
 'Please, sir, it's Abel,' she interposed. 
 ' Lor, Miss Trenna, how white you do look ; 
 shall I get you a glass of water .^ ' 
 
 Notwithstanding her brother's assurance that 
 their father was in health, Trenna indeed had 
 turned deadly pale. To Lucy's proposal, how- 
 ever, she shook her head, keeping her eyes 
 fixed on her brother.
 
 i6o KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' Tell Abel,' continued Kit, ' that I will 
 come home at once. He must walk back, and 
 I will take the mare.' 
 
 ' I shall go home with you, Kit,' whispered 
 Trenna, gravely. 
 
 ' What nonsense ! The horse can't carry 
 double.' 
 
 ' No ; but the skiff can. Otherwise I shalj 
 row down alone.' 
 
 Christopher Gars ton bit his lip ; it was 
 rare indeed for his sister to be so peremptory 
 with him. 
 
 ' You can do no good,' he said hesitatingly. 
 
 ' I can help to prevent harm,' she answered 
 meaningly. 
 
 It w^as curious that throughout this conver- 
 sation, which the brother and sister held apart, 
 the former had not even alluded to the nature 
 of the tidings he had ji^t received. A glance
 
 AN INTERRUPTED GAME. i6i 
 
 full of significance had flashed between them 
 when Kit had said, ' I am wanted at home,' 
 and no farther explanation, it seemed, was 
 necessary. 
 
 ' My dear Maud,' said Trenna, turning to 
 her friend, ' I must go back with Kit, though I 
 hope it will be only for an hour or two. The 
 waters are troubled at home,' she added, in 
 a low voice, ^ and the presence of the oil is 
 peoessary.' 
 
 Maud was too well acquainted with the state 
 of domestic affairs at the Grey House, as Mr. 
 Garston's residence was called, to make any 
 remonstrance ; but Mark, whom the disturbance 
 had brought down from his study, objected 
 strongly, though, characteristically enough, not 
 so much to the departure of the young lady as 
 to that of her brother. 
 
 Kit had run upstairs to change his clothes, 
 VOL. I. ^ M
 
 i62 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 but immediately on his return Mark had tackled 
 him. 
 
 ' Now you promised us, Kit/ said he, with 
 his hand upon the other's shoulder, ' you would 
 stay with us the whole day. I have seen 
 nothing of you since luncheon. If it is 
 only a little breeze with the governor, let it 
 blow over.' 
 
 * But this is not a little breeze, Mark,' 
 answered Kit in a low tone ; ' it's a tornado.' 
 
 ' Good Heavens ! What's the matter .^ Can 
 / do anything ? ' 
 
 Ills tone was eager, and even anxious. It 
 was impossible to doubt the genuineness of his 
 sympathy, the tenderness of his regard. 
 
 Perhaps it was the thought of the other's 
 friendship, and of the simplicity with which his 
 aid was offered, that caused Christopher Garston 
 to hold out his hand. 'You can do nothing, old
 
 AN INTERRUPTED GAME. 163 
 
 fellow, thank you,' he said. ' Thuigs may turn 
 
 out better than one expects ; and in that case I 
 
 shall come over to-morrow.' 
 ' And if not ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I shan't see you quite so soon.' 
 ' Then I shall come to Mogadion.' 
 ' No, Mark ; at least not to the Grey House, 
 
 unless you hear from me.' 
 
 It was arranged, too, that Trenna's ' things ' 
 
 should remain at the Knoll in case of her 
 
 return. 
 
 The same evening there came a messenger 
 
 — not Abel — with a little note. 
 
 'My dear Maud, — I am sorry to say I 
 cannot leave home till to-morrow. We are in 
 trouble here ; nothing of much consequence as 
 concerns ourselves, but something which may 
 affect others in whom vcu are interested. I
 
 i64 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 will be witli you in the morning ; in the mean- 
 time say nothing of this. 
 
 ' Yours ever, 
 
 ' Trenna Garston.' 
 
 It was very difficult to ' say nothing of this/ 
 
 Maud's world was a very small one, and 
 
 the phrase ' others iii whom you are interested ' 
 
 w^as terribly tantalising. Nevertheless she held 
 
 her tongue.
 
 i65 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IX THE BOUDOIR. 
 
 In the morning Trenna arrived at the Knoll 
 according to promise ; but it was not the same 
 Trenna. She looked five years older; her 
 olive cheeks were pale, and had that drawn, 
 pinched look which is usually the result of 
 protracted physical pain. Her eyelids were 
 swollen from much weeping, and at tlie siglU 
 of ^trs. ^ledway and her daughter her tears 
 welled forth anew. 
 
 ' Don't let Mark see me just now,' she said, 
 an unwonted touch of vanity that went home 
 to the two women's hearts.
 
 i66 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 ' Come up to my boudoir,' said Maud ; ' we 
 shall there be safe from all intrusion.' 
 
 A shiver passed over Trenna. ' That will 
 be making too much of matters,' she objected ; 
 'your mother so seldom sits there. Mark 
 will wonder.' 
 
 ' Mark will wonder ! ' echoed Maud with a 
 c^host of a lauf^h. ' Mark would not wonder 
 if we sat on the roof-top like sparrows.' 
 
 ' But the servants ? ' 
 
 ' The servants are only Lucy. Lucy is one 
 of ourselves as far as tale-bearing is concerned, 
 and indeed, in other respects, she is the most 
 honest, faithful creature.' 
 
 ' That is true,' assented Trenna gravely. 
 
 So they went upstairs to Maud's boudoir ; a 
 gem of a room hung with water-colours by her 
 own hand ; one of them in a very pretty oaken 
 frame carved by Trenna — her only accomplish-
 
 IN THE BOUDOIR, 167. 
 
 ment in tlie way of the fine arts. In a recess 
 within double doors, also Trenna's handiwork, 
 stood on an easel a portrait of Maud's father, 
 very like her brother. ' Mark has the same far- 
 off look,' she used to say, ' as though he were 
 in the world, but not of it ; ' a remark she 
 would never have uttered had she known how 
 it made her mother tremble. In a corner a 
 small piano, on the table her favourite books 
 in pretty bindings, ' not too good for human ' 
 nature's daily ' handling. On the wall a dainty 
 fishing-rod, innocent of victims as a militiaman's 
 sword ; above it her racket. Everything in 
 this little apartment was a birthday gift, and 
 spoke of love and friendship. 
 
 From the window you looked out on dream- 
 land ; garden, and vroodland, and the river 
 winding hundreds of feet beneath it without 
 sound or motion, and in the distance the blue
 
 1 68 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 sea, from which the summer wind brought a 
 fresh message with every breath. 
 
 Gentle comes the world to those 
 Who are cast in gentle mould, 
 
 was the fit motto, Trenna used to say, to be 
 written over Maud's boudoir door. Perhaps 
 the place made a greater impression on her 
 by reason of its contrast with her own room 
 at the Grey House, which, but for a present 
 or two from Kit and Maud herself, was bare 
 enough. Upon this occasion, however, she 
 noticed nothing but that the window was open. 
 ' May I shut it, Maud ? ' were her first words. 
 ' Surely, my dear, if you feel cold.' 
 ' I am not cold, but what I have to say is 
 at present a secret, and not a bird of the air 
 must carry the matter.' 
 
 The three sat down with grave faces, and 
 Trenna told her tale.
 
 IN THE BOUDOIR. 169 
 
 There had been a robbery at the Grey 
 House ; two hundred pounds in notes had been 
 taken from Mr. Garston's desk. 
 
 It was unnecessary to dilate to her present 
 audience on the late owner's state of mind ; 
 they knew him, and could therefore understand 
 it. But that a robbery should have occurred at 
 all astounded them. 
 
 ' This is the first time,' exclaimed Mrs. 
 Medway, ' that ever I heard of a thief in 
 Mogadion. Is it not possible that your father 
 has mislaid the notes .^ ' 
 
 Trenna shook her liead, and indeed the 
 next moment Mrs. Medway admitted to herself 
 that her suggestion was a feeble one. Mr. 
 Garston, senior, was liable to forgetfulness 
 about some things, like other people ; he 
 habitually omitted to remember a debtor's cir- 
 cumstances ; he would ignore his own promises
 
 I7Q KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 (when tliey were not on paper), and confused 
 Sundays and week-days deplorably ; but he 
 was not a man to forget Avherc he had put his 
 money. 
 
 ' Perhaps the parrot has taken it,' Maud 
 hazarded. 
 
 This bird was by rights a cockatoo, but 
 answered affably, if you had a sweet biscuit 
 between your finger and thumb, to the vulgar 
 appellation ' Poll.' It was extremely fond of 
 Trenna, over whom it would climb, and croak, 
 and chuckle in the most engaging manner ; but 
 even she admitted it had some of the habits 
 of the magpie. 
 
 ' Poll has no taste for bank-notes,' returned 
 Trenna confidently ; ' and besides, he never 
 ventures into papa's room. They cannot have 
 gone w^ithout hands — human hands.' 
 
 ' But, Trenna, by whose liands ? '
 
 AV THE BOUDOIR. 171 
 
 'That is just the question. Our servants 
 are all Mogadion born, and respectably con- 
 nected. As I tell my father, neither Joan nor 
 Mary would know what to do with one five- 
 pound note, much more with forty. 
 
 'Has Mr. Garston the numbers of the 
 notes ? ' inquired Mrs. Med way. 
 
 * Xo — yes — indeed, I have the list here,' 
 and she produced a slip of paper. ' My father 
 told me to show it to you.' 
 
 ' To me ! ' cried Mrs. Medway. ' Lord bless 
 me, my dear ; nobody ever pays me a five- 
 pound note. Quite the contrary. That is to 
 say, I settle everything by cheque. It is to the 
 last degree unlikely that one of them should 
 come my way. Does he wish me to act as a 
 detective ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Medway's tone was indignant. She 
 liked Kit, and she liked Trenna ; but, except
 
 172 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 that her son's friends were her friends, her 
 affections were personal. She was not one of 
 those feeble folks whose likings are shaped by 
 vicinity. She was on good terms with all her 
 neighbours, but she reserved to herself the 
 right of picking and choosing from her circle 
 of acquaintances her friends. And Mr. 
 Garston, senior, was still unpicked on the stem 
 of acquaintanceship. 
 
 'I am very sorry,' continued Trenna 
 nervously ; ' I was afraid it would distress 
 you, and Maud also ; but you know how 
 I am situated. Papa was imperative, and I 
 had no choice. I was told to give you the 
 list.' 
 
 ' But what am I to do with it, child? ' 
 inquired Mrs. Medway, regarding the slip of 
 paper as if it were a county court summons, 
 or a writ. 'Does he want me to frame and
 
 IN THE BOUDOIR. 173 
 
 glaze it, and hang it up in the drawing- 
 room ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, pray don't laugh at me ; and, still 
 more, don't be angry with me, Mrs. Medway. 
 Things are much worse than anything you can 
 imagine. Papa thinks — that is, he doesn't 
 know what to think — that it is Abel.' 
 
 ' Abel ! ' exclaimed both ladies together ; 
 ' Abel Deeds ! ' 
 
 'Yes. I knew you would be shocked,'- 
 continued Trenna in nervous quivering tones. 
 ' I am shocked myself. We are all shocked.' 
 
 ' Abel Deeds never stole those notes,' said 
 Mrs. Medway, positively. ' They are an honest 
 family. I have known him from a boy. Do 
 you suppose that Eachel Deeds can have a 
 thief for a son ? ' 
 
 ' And Lucy, too,' put in Maud ; ' why, it 
 would break poor Lucy's heart even to think
 
 174 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 he could be suspected of such a thing. No, 
 no, Trenna ; you are wrong.' 
 
 ' I may be ; I am^ very likely. Good 
 Heavens! do you suppose I icant it to be 
 Abel ? ' 
 
 Here she burst into tears and rocked her- 
 self to and fro. ' I wish I was dead,' she 
 murmured. ' Oh Maud, Maud ! ' 
 
 ' My dear Trenna, pray calm yourself,' said 
 Maud gently. 'Mamma knows — don't you, 
 mamma? that it is not your fault; that you 
 have no alternative. But this comes upon us 
 so suddenly, and is so shocking. It could 
 hardly be w^orse if we ourselves were suspected 
 of such a thing. Oil, my poor Lucy ! ' 
 
 'What makes your father suspect Abel, 
 Trenna?' inquired Mrs. Medway. 'I sup- 
 pose he has some grounds for such an 
 accusation.'
 
 IN THE BOUDOIR. 175 
 
 ' He makes no accusation, ^Irs. Mechvay ; 
 that was wliat I was by all means to say — 
 because — because ' 
 
 ' Because to make a false charge would be 
 libellous,' suGfo^ested Mrs. Medwav, in chiilino^ 
 tones. 
 
 ' Xo, no ; it isn't that. Pray bear with me. 
 He said — my father said — that Maud was to be 
 careful not to put Lucy on her guard. Not 
 that Lucy knows anything about it,' she added 
 hurriedly ; ' only if she knew that Abel was in 
 peril she might conceal things.' 
 
 ' I am quite sure that Lucy has nothing to 
 conceal,' said Maud. 
 
 ' Not that she knows of at present, but she 
 might know of it. The matter stands in this 
 way. Very thoughtlessly, very foolishly, I 
 mentioned how you had once shown me 
 Lucy's savings the other day — the money her
 
 176 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 brotlier gave to her, and which you keep for 
 her; 
 
 ' You had no business to do that, Trenna,' 
 said Maud ; ' though to be sure you might 
 retort that I liad no business to show it to you. 
 It was only, however, because it gave me such 
 pleasure to be her banker.' 
 
 'I have said that it was thoughtless and 
 foolish to mention it,' pleaded Trenna ; ' can I 
 say more ? ' 
 
 ' The question is, did you mention it in 
 connection with this business ? ' observed Mrs. 
 Medway, gravely. 'If you did so it was 
 cruel and unkind ; there, there, I see you are 
 sorry for it, my dear. Let us say no more.' 
 
 ' Sorry for it,' cried Trenna, bitterly. ' Yes, 
 1 am sorry for it. And yet I must say more. 
 What papa wishes is that you should see 
 for yourself, without saying a word about it.
 
 IN THE BOUDOIR. 177 
 
 whether any of the missing notes are among 
 Lucy's savings. You know you told me that 
 Abel gave her something quite lately.' 
 
 ' I will not do it; said Maud, flatly. ' Mr. 
 Garston may look for them himself, if he 
 pleases, but I will not do it.' 
 
 'Yet if they are not there, dear Maud, 
 no harm will be done. And if they are 
 there ' 
 
 ' I will lay my hfe they are not there, 
 Trenna.' 
 
 ' My dear Maud, Trenna is right,' put in 
 Mrs. Medway, gravely. ' She is only doing 
 her duty, and it is not a pleasant one.' 
 
 Trenna threw up her hands, as if in appeal 
 to High Heaven itself. That she was deeply 
 moved was certain, and yet there was an oc- 
 casional exaggeration in her manner that was 
 not altogether natural. She had, doubtless, 
 VOL. I. K
 
 178 KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 pictured the scene to herself as she came along, 
 and was, therefore, in some measure, prepared 
 for it. 
 
 ' Pleasant ! ' she repeated, in a pitiful voice. 
 ' Ah, if you could only read my heart.' 
 
 ' If Maud will not look in the box, I will^ 
 said Mrs. Med way ; ' only Lucy herself must be 
 present. Do you agree to that, Trenna .^ ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, to everything. Only let us get 
 it over.' 
 
 Her face was white as the sheet of paper 
 she held in her hand, and which trembled in 
 it hke a gossamer. 
 
 ' Then I will ring the bell for Lucy,' said 
 Mrs. Medway.
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 LUCY DEEDS. 
 
 Maud rose and moved to the closed window, 
 through which she affected to look out ; but c>f 
 wood and river and crag, and even of the roses 
 that chinbed about the casement, she saw 
 nothing ; she was picturing to herself a humble 
 but faithful friend about to suffer an unjust 
 humiliation. Mrs. Medway kept her seat ; but 
 her fingers played nervously upon the table, 
 and her usually serene and placid foce sliowed 
 great emotion. For a woman she had an ex- 
 ceptionally strong sense of justice ; but niingled 
 with it there was all the indignation of a 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 woman, which, when the wrong-doing affects 
 her nearly, no more respects its proper channel 
 than a stream that has burst its banks. She 
 was unconsciously regarding Trenna with great 
 disfavour. 
 
 ' Will you speak to Lucy, or shall I ? ' she 
 inquired coldly. 
 
 'Oh, not I — not I,' cried Trenna, with a 
 quick gesture of alarm. ' Why need anybody 
 speak ? Why need she ever know ? ' 
 
 ' Because I will have no underhand doings 
 here,' answered Mrs. Medway. 
 
 It was a very cruel speech, and one she 
 would have never uttered in cold blood. Every 
 one knew that matters at the Grey House were 
 not as they should be ; that its master was a 
 difficult^ one to manage ; and that it required a 
 great deal o: diplomacy on his daughter's part 
 to keep things straight between him and his 
 son.
 
 LhCY DEEDS. i8i 
 
 Trenna flushed to her forelieacl, but said 
 notliincf ; the next moment she turned as white 
 as though a <ihost, instead of Lucv Deeds, was 
 standing before her. 
 
 ' If you please, ma'am, did you ring ? ' said 
 Lucv, addressino- her mistress. A bricrht Httle 
 ■creature she was, with one of those honest smiles 
 which is the index of a wholesome nature ; her 
 eyes, lively rather than intelligent, were wont to 
 assume a look of earnest gravity — which was, in- 
 fact, one of distress and puzzlement — at the 
 slightest kink in the cable of life. 
 
 'Have you any objection to show ILiss 
 Trenna here the contents of your purse ? ' 
 
 ' My purse I ' Astonishment could no fur- 
 ther go than was expressed in Lucy s counten- 
 ance ; she even forgot to say ' ma'am.' The 
 next moment, however, with a bright blush and 
 some little awkwardness she made a dive into 
 her r.ocket.
 
 i82 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' There's a ring in it, Miss ; but it's only one 
 I boiio-lit last feast time at.Moc^aclion for luck,' 
 she explained, growing redder than ever, ' and 
 a dried flower from the Druid Stone, which I 
 once heard Mr. Penryn say was good for fits ; 
 and a fourpenny piece with a hole through it, 
 and that's all. It is but a poor thing, you 
 see, not a bit like the one Miss Maud gave 
 me ' 
 
 ' That is the one Miss Trenna wants to look 
 at,' interrupted Mrs. Medway ; ' the one that 
 holds your savings.' 
 
 ' I am sure she's welcome, ma'am,' said Lucy, 
 but a little stiffly, and with a glance at her 
 young mistress Avhich expressed less satisfaction 
 than surprise. ' More than half of what it holds 
 comes from her own house ; for Abel is the best 
 of brothers, and never puts by a shilkng but 
 what he gives me a sixpence of it.'
 
 I.UCV DEEDS. i%i 
 
 \\i\<: tlicK- vvjis a significant silence, broken 
 c>ijly l>y a lillNt jnonn iron) 'i'n^nna. 
 
 Mrn. Midway, who had iuteudcd to have 
 left her to piimue tlie rest of flic inquiry, relented 
 at tins. 
 
 'We are cnrious to «(;rt wluit you have saved, 
 
 Lucy, and how many hank noU^.i you havr^ ;jot.' 
 
 * Lor, ma'am, I've only s^iA. one;. Abel gave 
 it me, not a week ago, out of his last wages. 
 Aji'1 there'll seven pounds in gold besides, is, 
 there not, Miss Maiid ?— and three of them were 
 his, God bless him — ^and fourteen shillings in 
 silver.' 
 
 ' There must be no false pretence here,' said 
 M;i.uf|, tiiniJng suddenly round. ^Thrtro' h:i3 
 something happened at the Grey JIouhc, Lucy ; 
 some bank-notes are missing ; and thougli we 
 know folks (as in this ca.'^c) to be as honest as 
 the day, it is necessary when such things happen
 
 z84 KIi : A MEMORY, 
 
 to make the fullest investigation. Mr. Garston 
 has sent Miss Trenna, for satisfaction's sake, to 
 compare the numbers of the notes.' 
 
 ' Lor' bless ye, Miss,' said Lucy, her eyes 
 growing very large and frightened, and filling 
 with tears, she knew not why, ' I've only got 
 one note.' 
 
 Her simplicity went to her young mistress's 
 heart. ' If there were fifty, Lucy, I would 
 swear they were honestly come by.' 
 
 ' Honestly ? Why, Mr. Garston don't think 
 I stole it, do 'ee ? ' inquired the girl, with a flush 
 of indignation. ' It's difficult enough, they say, 
 to pick up a mossel of bread and cheese at the 
 Grey House, much more bank-notes.' 
 
 ' Lucy, Lucy,' said Mrs Medway, gently. 
 
 ' I ask your pardon, ma'am,' said Lucy, 
 breathini? hard. ' and likewise Miss Maud's.' 
 
 'And / ask youvs^ said Trenna, humbly.
 
 LUCY DEEDS. 185 
 
 * Do not suppose, Lucy, that I can believe any- 
 thing ill of you or yours. I am ashamed of 
 myself, though it is no fault of mine, to have 
 come on such an errand.' 
 
 Lucy felt that she liad been in the wrong to 
 have thrown out tliat hint concerning the want 
 of hospitality in Mr. Garston's servants' hall ; 
 but she was quite unequal to frame an apology. 
 The scantiness of her vocabulary, which lies at 
 the root, by-the-bye, of the strong expressions- 
 used by the lower classes, and which we are apt 
 to attribute to a love of coarseness, forbade it ; 
 but she expressed her penitence in tears. 
 
 ' Come, Lucy,' said Maud, ' no one but 
 yourself shall touch your money ; let us 
 see it.' 
 
 Lucy opened a drawer in Maud's desk, and 
 took out the handsome morocco purse which 
 her young mistress had given her by way of
 
 l86 KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 strong box, and displayed its contents ; the 
 little hoard of years contributed by love and 
 toil 
 
 'This is the bank-note, Miss Trenna, that 
 my brother gave me last week.' 
 
 But Trenna shook her head in sign that she 
 would not touch it. Her limbs shook too, and 
 her face was ghastly pale. 
 
 Maud took out the note, and unfolded it. 
 
 ' I call you all to witness,' she said, ' that 
 the number is 28882 ; you will remember it by 
 the three eights and two two's — but you had 
 better write it down. What is the matter? 
 Good Heavens ! I had forgotten the slip.' 
 
 Trenna was staring at the paper with its 
 rows of figures as though a viper had curled 
 itself round her fingers. Maud, who leant over 
 her shoulder, was staring at it too with incre- 
 duhty and horror mingled in her countenance.
 
 LUCY DEEDS. 187 
 
 ' Is it there ? ' inquired Mrs. Med way, with 
 a silent movement of her hps. 
 
 ' It is there,' was her daughter's diiml> 
 reply. There was a painful silence, broken 
 only by a rosebud without tapping importun- 
 ately against tlie pane. 
 
 ' I don't understand it. Miss Maud,' ex- 
 claimed Lucy, pitifully. ' Is there anything 
 wrong with Abel's note ? ' 
 
 She looked from one to the other in dis-' 
 tressed amazement ; their silence had not the 
 eloquence which it would have had for any one 
 of trained intelligence. ' It is not — it surely 
 isn't — one of those that has been stolen? ' 
 
 ' It is one of those that are missinii,' said 
 Maud, gently. * But the list may not be cor- 
 rect ; m any case, we are all quite certain that 
 
 Abel has done nothing wrong Avhat are you 
 
 doing, Lucy ? '
 
 1 88 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 The girl had suddenly emptied the contents 
 of the purse upon the table. 
 
 ' Please to throw it all away, Miss, or give 
 it to some rich person as doesn't want it. It's 
 that way as all poor people's money ought to go. 
 They has no business to make it, nor to spend 
 it, nor to keep it. They was born to work and 
 not to save ; and when they has been worked 
 out there is the workhouse for them. I've had 
 pleasure, I own it, in putting this little money 
 together, for I thought it might be useful to 
 mother in her old age, or perhaps to Abel his- 
 self if he fell ill and was out of place — but 
 I see now it was all wrong, and worse than 
 useless.' 
 
 ' Oh Lucy, Lucy, do not be so bitter,' cried 
 Maud, imploringly. ' You have cut poor Miss 
 Trenna, you see ' — who indeed was sobbing and 
 trembling like a chidden child — ' to the very 
 heart.'
 
 LUCY DEEDS. 189 
 
 *Miss Trenna is a young lady,' continued 
 Lucy coldly, ' and ought to know better than 
 to make herself miserable about poor people. 
 If it was her brother now as was accused of a 
 misdeed — not a mere trifle such as breaking a 
 poor girl's heart, but of something agin the law 
 — she would know where to go for help and 
 advice. Them as makes the law, or lives by it, 
 would hold him harmless. But for such as 
 Abel, as is as free from blame as any here, who ' 
 shall prove it ? God help him — God help his 
 poor mother.' 
 
 She liid her face in her rough honest hands, 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 ' Lucy, Lucy dear,' said Maud gently, and 
 with her arm stealing round the poor girl's 
 waist, ' you are distressing us all without cause. 
 Abel, as you say, is as innocent of this crime, if 
 a crime indeed has been committed, as mamma
 
 S90 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 or I. But you make a great mistake in 
 .supposing that lie is without friends. However 
 ill matters may look for him they will not look 
 ill in our eyes ; and we shall stand by him. If 
 the worst comes to the w^orst — I mean if there 
 should be a trial — mamma will see he has the 
 best of counsel. If I thought otherwise, I have 
 money of my own which could never be spent 
 in a better cause. I am not one to desert old 
 friends.' 
 
 ' Lucy knows that, don't you, Lucy ? ' says 
 Mrs. Medway, cheerfully. ' Why, if there was 
 neither Miss Maud nor I to do it, my son Mark 
 would see Abel righted.' 
 
 'God bless him, God bless Mr. Mark!' 
 sobbed Lucy. ' I was wrong to say the poor 
 had no friends.' 
 
 ' Moreover,' continued Mrs. Medway, ' you 
 must remember that Abel has no enemies. Mr.
 
 LUCY DEEDS. 191 
 
 Garston is only seeking his own, and accuses 
 nobody. And as for Mr. Christoplier and Miss 
 Trenna, I am sure no one will be more pleased 
 than they when the day comes, as it will come, 
 which shall clear up this unfortunate matter/ 
 
 The speaker looked at Trenna as if expect- 
 ing her to say something on her own account ; 
 but she looked in vain. Trenna had risen from 
 her seat and taken Maud's vacated place at the 
 window, where she stood with her back to the 
 others. 
 
 ' I don't want any one but them as knows 
 him and beheves in him to take Abel's part,' 
 said Lucy sturdily. ' If you please, ma'am, I 
 must go to Mogadion and see mother.' 
 
 ' Dear me, but is that necessary .^ ' inquired 
 Mrs. Medway in hesitating tones ; ' I mean that 
 your mother should be told. What do you say, 
 Trenna ? '
 
 192 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 Trenna, thus appealed to, turned a pale 
 pained face towards her hostess, and answered 
 in a sad laborious way, that would have been 
 mechanical but for its weariness and distress, ' I 
 fear so ; it can be but a matter of time. Eachel 
 must know it sooner or later.' 
 
 But Lucy, holding her apron to her eyes 
 with both her hands, hke blank Despair, had 
 already found her way to the door.
 
 193 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 'I MEAX TO HAVE JUSTICE.' 
 
 Ix the country, politics, except at election times, 
 and public matters generally, do not much 
 move men's minds ; literature attracts but sli^rht 
 attention, and science less ; but, on the other 
 hand, local affairs create an excitement wlhcli 
 to the dwellers in town is inconceivable. If an 
 inhabitant of Soho is murdered, and afterwards 
 cut in pieces for the convenience of secret in- 
 terment, the circumstance affects Bayswater no 
 more than if it had happened in Liverpool; 
 whereas, in country places, the effect of all in- 
 cidents depends on nearness, hke the shock of a 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 clap of thunder. In Mogadion, wliere there 
 were no murders, and no one had been cut up 
 since the days of the Druids, the rumour of a 
 theft of two hundred pounds was certain to 
 make a great noise. 
 
 The Medways foresaw this, and w^ere very 
 wiUing that Lucy should betake herself to Dr. 
 Meade's, lest the news in some sort of connection 
 -with Abel should reach his mother's ears by 
 another channel. Mark himself, whose kindness 
 of heart the girl had not exaggerated when she 
 had called him the friend of the poor, insisted 
 on driving her over to Mogadion. She would 
 thereby reach her destination more quickly 
 than on foot, while the fact of her being in his 
 company would show liow the family at the 
 Knoll sympathised with her and hers. 
 
 It did not strike him that it might also place 
 him in a position of apparent antagonism to
 
 </ MEAN TO HAVE JUSTICE: 195 
 
 Abel's prosecutor, for such, when the story of 
 the bank-notes came to be told, Mr. Garston 
 would certainly become. Indeed, in his sim- 
 plicity and tenderness he took it for granted 
 that Mr. Garston, hke everybody else, would 
 be distressed to the last degree by the recent 
 discovery, and be chiefly concerned with the 
 problem of how to account for it consistently 
 with Abel's innocence. 
 
 'I shall drop Lucy at the Dovecote, and 
 go straight to Kit at once,' he said to Trenua, 
 who with ]\Irs. Medway and Maud had come to 
 the front door, as their manner was on the oc- 
 casion of all domestic exoduses, to see him off. 
 Trenna did not reply in words, but a sorrowful 
 nod and a grateful smile acknowledged his 
 forethought. 
 
 Next to Lucy, indeed, ^lark pitied Kit, 
 whom he knew the news he brought with him
 
 196 KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 would place in an embarrassing position. Old 
 Garston was hard to hold where any question 
 of gain was concerned ; he strained in the leash 
 after his six-and-eightpences, so that his feelings 
 on the occasion of such a loss as the present 
 could be probably only paralleled by the senti- 
 ments of the tigress robbed of her young. 
 
 It was a great relief to Mark that when 
 he dropped Lucy at Dr. Meade's, according to 
 promise, neither the Doctor nor Frank were 
 visible, and especially that old Eachel did not 
 make her appearance in the little garden. His 
 mind misg^ave him that their indif^nation at what 
 had happened would not be confined to the 
 Master of the Grey House, but would extend 
 to all its inmates, however innocent ; and, until 
 he had seen Kit, and heard what he had to say, 
 it would be difficult to defend him. Trenna's 
 mention of Lucy's saving?, which to an outsider,
 
 '/ MEAN TO HAVE JUSTICE: 197 
 
 and considering its result, would have seemed 
 very sagacious and conducive to the ends of 
 justice, would, in the eyes of Abel's friends, 
 ^appear most unfortunate, not to say mischievous ; 
 for the finding of the note would not shake 
 their faith in the lad one whit, as Mark could 
 well understand, since it did not shake his 
 own. 
 
 Indeed, when Abel himself answered liis 
 ring at the Grey House gate, and, with simple 
 freedom, inquired after the health of the ladies 
 at the Knoll, he could hardly refrain from 
 takingr his hand and assuring; him of his un 
 shaken faith in his integrity. 
 
 A more faithful, honest creature than Abel 
 Deeds it was difficult to imadne. He had not 
 
 o 
 
 the personal attractions of his sister, nor the 
 rugged intelhgence of old Eachel ; but he had 
 a smile, the dryness of which bespoke him no
 
 198 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 fool, and a kindliness of expression, which is 
 the best substitute for comeliness, whether in 
 man or woman. 
 
 ' Master w^as in,' he said ; ' and he beheved 
 Mr. Christopher was with him in the parlour.' 
 
 This was a small and not very comfortable 
 apartment, but preferred by the lawyer to 
 either drawing-room or dining-room, and which, 
 in consequence of its being used for the recep- 
 tion of his clients, was known as ' the cobweb.' 
 The walls were ornamented with a ground plan 
 of the Grey House (including a particular 
 sketch of the drainage), and a picture of the 
 sloop ' Alicante ' in the act of going to pieces 
 on Penarvon Point. The late Mr. Garston and 
 his httle boy had been cast ashore from her ; 
 ' providentially saved ' said the written record 
 beneath the drawing, though, as to that, opinion 
 was divided ; and finding Mogadion to his
 
 'I MEAN TO HAVE JUSTICE: igg 
 
 liking, had established himself there, in ^vhat 
 capacity it was never quite understood. Though 
 beginning with nothing but the clothes he stood 
 in — and not much of them — he was supposed 
 to have made a Hvehhood by money-lending, 
 and it was certain that he had left something 
 behind him wliich had prospered considerably 
 in his son's hands. 
 
 The present owner of the Grey House had 
 married a native of Mogadion with a small 
 fortune of her own, and that most admirable 
 complement of it, no relations ; but she had 
 died in giving birth to Christopher, and her 
 decease severed the only tie that bound her 
 husband to his neighbours, with whom he had 
 never succeeded in assimilating himself. Though 
 he had no prejudices of his own to stand in the 
 way of social success, with no class or creed 
 was Mr. Garston popular ; and in the domestic
 
 200 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 disputes which occasionally arose between him 
 and his children, or rather between him and 
 his son (on whose side Trenna never failed to 
 enlist herself), the public feeling was always in 
 favour of the juniors ; a state of things which 
 had been of no small advantage to Christopher,, 
 of whom it was said, whenever he committed 
 any peccadillo, ' Who can wonder at it, poor 
 lad, with such a father ! ' 
 
 It may easily be imagined, therefore, with 
 what feelings Mark Medway, Kit's sworn friend, 
 regarded the alien attorney, who had certainly 
 never appeared to him in a less favourable light 
 than on the present occasion. His face, as it 
 strove in vain to frame a smile of welcome, was 
 distorted with suppressed passion ; his dusky 
 cheeks were of that livid hue which an old scar 
 assumes when struck with the hand ; and his
 
 */ MEAN TO HAVE JUSTICE! 201 
 
 beady eyes wore a sullen glow like a furnace 
 that has recently been ' banked up.' 
 
 He came forward with outstretched hand, 
 while Kit stood behind him, smiling cynically, 
 as though to assure the visitor that all the 
 parental wrath of which he might be the 
 witness was a matter of small moment, and 
 especially a thing in which he himself had no 
 share. 
 
 ' Well — well — what news do you briDg- 
 from the Knoll ? ' was the attorney's impatient 
 greeting. 
 
 ' My mother and sister are quite well ' (the 
 attorney's eyes flashed out a look of con- 
 temptuous scorn : it was evidently with an 
 effort he restrained himself from an ebullition 
 of temper) ; ' but they are naturally much dis- 
 tressed at what has happened.'
 
 202 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 'And what lias happened? Come to the 
 point, sir. I suppose they are not in distress 
 for my sake. It is not tliexj who have lost 
 two hundred pounds ! ' 
 
 ' Nevertheless, Mr. Garston, I hope you will 
 believe that they are sorry you have lost it. 
 What, however, of course pains them most is, 
 that any suspicion should attach to your Abel, 
 our Lucy's brother.' 
 
 ' No suspicion does attach to him,' put in 
 Christopher earnestly. 'Every one knows ' 
 
 ' Hold your tongue, sir,' broke in the 
 attorney. ' Let Mr. Medway tell his story.' 
 
 The vulgarity of the man's nature did not 
 permit him to perceive that he was calling 
 Mark Mr. Medway, because somebody (though 
 presumably not Mark) had stolen his money ; 
 but Christopher's face not only indicated that 
 he perceived it, but was full of distressed 
 apology.
 
 '/ MEAN TO HAVE JUSTICE: 203 
 
 ' My story is very short, Mr. Garston, and, 
 I am soiTy to say, not wholly satisfactory,' 
 hesitated Mark. ' That some unfortunate 
 mistake lies at the bottom of this affair we feel 
 assured, but the fact is that the bank-note in 
 Lucy's purse of which* Trenna spoke to you is 
 identical ' 
 
 * I am glad to hear it. I am most sincerely 
 glad to hear it,' interrupted Mr. Garston. 
 
 The unexpectedness of the exclamation, and', 
 still more, a certain tone of relief in which it 
 was uttered, fairly took Mark's breath away. 
 He was dumb. The astonishment in his face, 
 however, could hardly escape the attorney's 
 notice. 
 
 ' You are surprised that I am glad,' he said, 
 in a manner that by comparison with his late 
 behaviour was almost didactic ; 'yet surely it is 
 better to have detected the real culprit than to 
 suspect innocent people.'
 
 204 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 'But Abel is no culprit, Mr. Garston, of 
 that I am quite convinced,' answered Mark, 
 quickly. 
 
 ' Conviction is matter for a jury,' replied the 
 other, in the same grave tones, but mingled 
 with a touch of scorn.* 'If Lucy Deeds re- 
 ceived a note from her brother Abel which was 
 stolen from my desk, Abel Deeds will have to 
 account for its possession, and I must confess, 
 as a lawyer, it strikes me there is some prima 
 facie evidence against him. I presume, by-the- 
 bye, the purse was opened in the presence of 
 witnesses,' he broke off, ' and that the number 
 of the note was taken down in writing.' 
 
 ' I believe — I am not sure,' returned Mark, 
 reluctantly. 
 
 ' Now, my good young sir, I hope there is 
 to be no attempt on the part of your folks at 
 home to shield this young man,' put in the
 
 ' I MEAX TO HA VE JUSTICE: 205 
 
 ottorney with sudden vehemence. ' I allow no 
 claims of friendship nor acquaintanceship where 
 justice has to be done.' 
 
 ' My mother knows her duty, sir,' said 
 Mark, gravely, 
 
 ' No doubt — no doubt — and I hope she is 
 prepared to do it. It is very easy to be tender- 
 hearted and sympathetic, and all the rest of 
 it, in these cases, when one is not the actual 
 sufferer. But I mean to have my money back 
 out of somebody, I can tell you.' 
 
 Mr. Garston was known beforehand to be a 
 Tartar, so that there was no occasion to scratch 
 him ; but now that he v:as scratched he was 
 certainly exhibiting the characteristics of his 
 native race in great perfection. 
 
 ' If it is merely the money, sir, sooner than 
 see an innocent person humbled and an honest 
 family disgrace^!, I will mvself be the '-some-
 
 2o6 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 body " out of whom you say you will have it/ 
 said Mark, hotly. 
 
 ' Eh, what — pooh, pooh — ^you haven't got 
 it,' said the attorney, incredulously ; ' no — no, 
 I mean to have justice. If I can't get the notes, 
 the thief shall pay for them with his skin.' 
 
 ' I have not the least objection to that, Mr. 
 Garston, but I will take care that it is not 
 Abel's skin, who is as honest a man as ' — he 
 was about to say ' yourself,' but in his indig- 
 nation he thought that parallel insufficient — so 
 ended with ' as Kit yonder.' 
 
 ' Upon my word,' said Kit, thus indirectly 
 appealed to, ' I think you are going much too 
 fast, father.' 
 
 ' That is what you have been doing, sir, 
 these last three years,' returned the attorney, 
 epigrammatically. ' But that is not my way. 
 Do you suppose I don't know my own business ?
 
 < / MEAN TO HA VE JUSTICE.' 207 
 
 Here's one of my own notes found in the purse 
 of my groom's sister, and admitted to have been 
 given to her by the -man liimself. However, I 
 am wasting w^ords, and j\Ii\ Penryn, who is the 
 nearest magistrate, will soon settle that matter.' 
 
 ' Good Heavens, Mr. Garston, you don't 
 think of taking out a warrant, surely ? ' ex- 
 claimed Mark, with agitation. 
 
 'Don't I.^ In four- and- twenty hours I'll 
 have that scoundrel in jail ; ' and with that the 
 attorney marched out of the room, slamming 
 the door behind him. 
 
 The next moment, and while Mark still 
 stood in shocked amazement staring at his 
 friend, he heard the attorney calling ' Abel ! 
 Abel ! ' (as though he w^as the most faithful of 
 retainers) ' saddle the mare.' 
 
 ' But ]\ii\ Penryn will ha\'e to grant the 
 warrant, Kit ? '
 
 2o8 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' Upon the Governor's word ? Not if I 
 know him. He must have a sworn information, 
 and there must be a journey to the Knoll for 
 that.' 
 
 ' Will my poor mother have to give it 
 him?' 
 
 ' Perhaps. But not in a hurry, you may be 
 certain. Moreover, she may find arguments of 
 her own to move the prosecutor. Wait and 
 see how things turn out. And in the mean- 
 time let us have a word with Abel.' 
 
 But on going into the stable-yard they found 
 it vacant. The attorney, not without several 
 ejaculations, which before a justice of the 
 peace would have cost him five shilhngs apiece, 
 had had to saddle the mare himself. Abel 
 Deeds, who from his silence and alacrity Kit 
 had christened 'Deeds not words,' had justified 
 his title. He had taken himself ofl'.
 
 »o9 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 KIT HAS A BAD QUARTER OF AX HOUR. 
 
 The telephone is, no doubt, a modern institti- 
 tiou, but in country districts something of the 
 kind (or else it's magic) has been in vogue for 
 centuries. Local news (for an event like the 
 Battle of Waterloo or other world-cataclysm 
 •often escapes notice) flies like wild-fire, and 
 (from decomposition or other cause which 
 prevents its keeping) especially bad news. 
 Unhke telegraphic communications, however, 
 instead of the tidings being confined to the 
 sender and receiver, it oozes out in the course 
 of transit ; the rushes murmur it, the fir trees 
 VOL. T. P
 
 2IO KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 AvLisper it ; and every one knows that the 
 parson has kissed the Sqnire's wife before (like 
 the wicked woman in the Scriptures) she has 
 wiped her hps as if nothing had happened. 
 The messenger whom Eachel Deeds had 
 despatched to the Grey House for her son 
 (which was the cause of his absence) might 
 have been another MaHse, and borne the Fiery 
 Cross, or been ' Eumour full of tongues,' in so 
 far as dissemination of his tidings was con- 
 cerned ; and such tidings ! It is here that the 
 local telephone outvies all the inventions of 
 science ; it has a perfervid imagination, and, 
 as was observed of Mr. Oliver Goldsmith, 
 ' improves whatever it touches.' It is for only 
 a very few yards that the echo of the parson's 
 kiss is ' heard ; but beyond the immediate 
 neighbourhood of the Eectory, or wherever it 
 happened, it expands into a divorce case ; and
 
 A BAD QUARTER OF AX HOUR. 211 
 
 before the bounds of the parish are reached, 
 the gnihy pair have fled the country. 
 
 As Mark and Kit Avalked down together, 
 through the town, tliey were stared at — 
 especially Kit — as though they had risen from 
 the dead. It was not true then, said the 
 gossips one to another, that Abel Deeds had 
 murdered everybody at the Grey House, but 
 only the old man. However, even that was 
 something, ' though Master Christopher did 
 seem to take it most uncommon cool.' 
 
 And ' if Mr. Garston was really dead, what 
 a thing it would be for Mr, Teunant,' who 
 was the other Mogadion attorney. 
 
 Unconscious of the disappointment they 
 thus inflicted on the public mind, the two 
 young men repaired to the Dovecote. Kit 
 himself had proposed it, and Mark was de- 
 lighted at the suggestion, since the presence of 
 
 p 2
 
 212 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 his friend, under such circumstances, beneath 
 the Doctor's roof, would show that Kit for his 
 part had no suspicion of AbeL Mark knew 
 that he had none, but he was sohcitous that 
 Prank and the rest should be convinced that 
 Mr. Gars ton and Mr. Garston's son were not at 
 one in this matter. 
 
 Quick as Kit had been in taking this step, 
 it seemed, to judge by the Doctor's face, who 
 received them at his own door, that he had 
 been none too soon in doing so. 
 
 ' Before crossing my threshold, Mr. Chris- 
 topher,' he said gravely, ' I must put the 
 same question that was addressed to young 
 Lochinvar : " Do you come here for peace or 
 for war ? " ' 
 
 ' For peace, Dr. Meade, 1 do assure you,' 
 was the young man's earnest reply ; ' I am as 
 convinced there has been some unfortunate
 
 A BAD (2UARTER OF AX HOUR. 213 
 
 mistake about Abel Deeds in this matter as 
 you yourself can be.' 
 
 ' As to the •' unfortunate mistake," ' re- 
 turned the Doctor, grimly, ' I will only say at 
 present, that when this poor fellow's innocence 
 shall have been establislied, the misfortune, as 
 v/ell as the mistake, will be Mr. Garston's. 
 The reputation of honest folks is not to be 
 taken away with impunity because other folks 
 mislay their money.' 
 
 The antithesis between 'honest folks' and 
 ' other folks ' was only too obvious, but 
 Christoplier Gars ton passed it over with a 
 smile. 
 
 ' I am afraid it is true, sir, that my father 
 has lost his temper, as well as his money, but 
 that is no reason why we should follow his 
 example. For the moment he is a good deal 
 put out — for two hundred pounds is a large
 
 214 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 sum to miss from one's desk — but I am not 
 aware that he has done anything action- 
 able/ 
 
 ' Actionable ! ' repeated the Doctor, scorn- 
 fully. ' I am not speaking of the law, but of 
 common justice and good feeling.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon. I thought you were 
 hinting, when you said " Avith impunity," at an 
 action for libel.' 
 
 ' Tut, tut,' said the Doctor, growing very 
 red ; ' I don't bark till I can bite, I do assure 
 you. Well, Frank, hoAv is she ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, she's all right for the present,' said 
 Frank, who now entered the room. ' You 
 have done our poor Eachael a bad turn this 
 morninG^, Garston.' 
 
 He did not offer his hand to Kit, but re- 
 garded him with cold disfavour. 
 
 ' Upon my word,' cried Mark, ' you are
 
 A BAD QUARTER OF AX HOUR. 215 
 
 both treating Kit exceedingly ill. He is not 
 responsible for his father's action in any way, 
 and regrets it as much as you do.' 
 
 ' A great deal more,' put in Kit, quietly ; 
 ' inasmuch as I am to blame in the matter. I 
 did remind Trenna of the purse with Lucy's 
 savings in it, because I knew my father would 
 sooner or later come to hear of it ; and I 
 wished Abel to be exonerated at once. Un- 
 fortunately, as I understand, one of the missing 
 notes has been found in it. Xo doubt that 
 fact can be explained ; but, in the meantime, 
 is it altogether unreasonable that my father 
 should wish to make some inquiry as to how it 
 came there ? He has gone to the Knoll to do 
 it, and that — so far as I am aware — is the 
 extent of his offence up to this date.' 
 
 The young man's tone and manner were 
 the perfection of quiet remonstrance, while his
 
 2i6 AY7 / A MEMORY. 
 
 logic was incontrovertible. The Doctor looked 
 at liis son with some dismay. 
 
 ' Upon my word, Frank,' the look seemed 
 to say, ' I am afraid I have been going a little 
 too far.' 
 
 ' If you had seen our poor Eachel, 
 Garston, as I have seen her,' observed Frank 
 stiffly and with a manner that spoke of en- 
 forced apology, 'you would make allowance 
 for any warmth my father may have exhibited.' 
 
 ' Pray don't speak of that,' said Kit. ' His 
 indignation, to my mind, only did him honour. 
 At the same time, you must allow that the 
 circumstances are such as to excuse some sus- 
 picion. The notes are certainly missing ' 
 
 ' Missing, they may be, Mr. Christopher 
 Garston ; but them as can hide can find.' 
 
 At the door of the parlour, which was 
 open, stood Eachel Deeds. Her face w^as
 
 A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR. 217 
 
 wLite with rage, white even by contrast witli 
 her white hair, which, instead of its ordinary 
 neatness, hungj over it rafx^ied and dishevelled. 
 
 ' My good Eachel,' said Kit, with one of 
 his pleasant smiles, 'you can't suppose my 
 father is a magpie.' 
 
 His raillery was ilhtimed but not ill-placed, 
 if, indeed, his object was to stem the tide of 
 the old woman's indicrnatiou. The lower 
 orders in the south have little or no humour, 
 and the introduction of it in serious matters is 
 unintelligible to them. She stood staring at 
 liim fiercely, but with a dazed expression, 
 which changed into one of trust and affection 
 as she turned to her young master. ' Mr. 
 Frank,' she said, ' you tell him what we think ; 
 this gentleman is too clever for a poor old 
 woman, as he has proved himself to be for 
 many a young one.'
 
 21 8 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 If Christopher Garston had been in doubt 
 of his being on hostile soil, this speech would 
 have opened his eyes very effectually. It was 
 one of those unfortunate utterances — such as 
 children often use to our embarrassment and 
 dismay — which betray whole volumes which 
 ought to be under lock and key. 
 
 ' If " Mr. Frank " will tell you how this 
 matter really stands/ said Kit, with the red in 
 his cheek and scorn in his tone, ' instead of 
 favouring me with his or your opinion upon 
 me or mine, he will be doing you a service.' 
 
 Thus appealed to, and without taking 
 notice of an accusation which he would 
 perhaps have had some difficulty in explaining 
 away, Frank stated the facts exactly as they 
 had occurred. ' It is but fair to say, Eachel,' 
 he added with an effort that evidently cost him 
 something, ' that Mr. Christopher Garston has
 
 A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR. 219 
 
 express.ed his regret that any suspicion should 
 have fallen upon your son, whom he believes 
 to be wholly blameless in this matter.' 
 
 'Believes? You need not tell me that/ 
 exclaimed the old woman bitterly ; ' and his 
 father knows it too. Folks needn't be honest 
 people themselves to know when other people 
 is honest. Abel — come here, Abel.' 
 
 Abel appeared, flushed and downcast, the 
 very picture of guilt to the eyes that only use 
 the borrowed glasses of convention and routine. 
 His broad good-natured face was bedewed 
 with apprehension of he knew not what, like 
 an ox at the first sight of the pole-axe 
 
 ' Abel, speak out, and for thy mother's 
 sake tell how you came by that note as was 
 found in Lucy's purse ; my son ain't clever like 
 some folks,' added Eachel with a glance at 
 Christopher, ' but he's pure.'
 
 220 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 And indeed if ' pure ' means ' simple,' 
 with which word it is often conjoined, Abel 
 was a very lily of the valley. 
 
 ' Master gave it me hisself,' said Abel. ' It 
 was a part of my quarter's wages, and the best 
 on it too, I promise you.' 
 
 'Tlien the whole affair lies in a nutshell,' 
 observed Mark cheerfully. ' Mr. Garston 
 being a man of business takes the numbers 
 of his notes and ' 
 
 There he stopped, perceiving that his 
 remark had been an unfortunate one. For the 
 moment he had forgotten that the lost note 
 had been identified, and that it might be the 
 object of the defence to show that Mr. Garston 
 had not made a memorandum of the number 
 at the time he received it, but had trusted to 
 his memory, which had f^iiled him. 
 
 ' There was ten shillino-s in silver besides,'
 
 A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR. 221 
 
 continued Abel by way of final contribution to 
 tlie investigation, 'and I gave five on it to 
 Jennie to buy a parasol with.' 
 
 ' And a fool's trick too, my lad,' observed 
 liis mother reprovingly, ' for she spoilt it the 
 next day by putting it up in the downpour, 
 drat her. But then, gentlemen, Abel can 
 never refuse Jennie naught, who is a sensible 
 girl at bottom for all her wanting to be in the 
 fashion ; and you mustn't think him wasteful. 
 He's a good son and a good brother and a 
 cfood man, let them as knows nothin^r of irood- 
 ness ' (and again she cast a glance of defiance 
 at Christopher) ' tell what lies they will of 
 him.' 
 
 Kit answered only by a good-natured smile, 
 which, though it failed to molhfy his assailant, 
 convhiced the spectators at least of his for- 
 bearance and kindly feeling. The lily indeed
 
 22 2 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 was SO touch eel by it tliat lie observed, ' I have 
 nowt to say against Mr. Christopher, mother, 
 nor against Miss Trenna neither ; and I don't 
 believe they hangs by master in this business a 
 bit more than they does in any other.' 
 
 This frank expression of the result of Abel's 
 experience of the state of domestic affairs at 
 the Grey House was received in silence ; the 
 Doctor and his son looked embarrassed as 
 havinix been in some sort the inviters of so 
 much plain speaking; Kit smiled but bit his 
 lip, and Mark was downright angry at the 
 scant courtesy with which, as he conceived, his 
 friend had been treated throughout the inter- 
 view. 
 
 ' It appears to me,' he said, ' that wdiat- 
 ever wrong Mr. Garston may have done an 
 innocent man in thought — for at present it 
 has sone no further — others have committed
 
 A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR. 223 
 
 the same error. It would really seem that we 
 lived in the old barbarous days, when the 
 members of a man's family were all held 
 answerable for his personal misdoings.' 
 
 '- The accused himself has stood up for me, 
 however,' said Kit smihng. 
 
 ' A lesson to us all,' said Mark, with 
 significance ; ' I honour him for it. and shall 
 certainly not be less resolved in consequence 
 to see him righted ; but in my opinion he 
 is not the only one who needs to make 
 apology.' 
 
 ' My dear Mark,' said Frank with earnest- 
 ness, 'it is impossible to affect to misunderstand 
 your meaning, but if you suppose for a moment 
 that we hold Christopher responsible for Mr. 
 Garston's suspicions ' 
 
 ' Why don't you call him Kit then as you 
 used to do ? ' broke in Mark impatiently. ' I
 
 224 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 don't blame Encliel, no one could blame a 
 mother.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush,' said the Doctor, rising with 
 dignity. ' There is no need for more, Mark ; 
 Kit, give me your hand. We are partisans 
 here, I admit it ; but we want no quarrel with 
 our neighbours ; like ourselves I am persuaded 
 that all you wish is to see justice done.' 
 
 ' Christopher, Christoplier,' cried an angry 
 voice without, ' come here, I want you.' 
 
 Through the open window they saw the 
 attorney, who had reined his mare in, at the 
 garden gate ; she was covered with foam, and 
 lier heaving sides showed the mark of his spurs. 
 
 ' What is the matter noAv, I wonder ? ' 
 exclaimed Kit, as' he took up his hat with tlie 
 weary air of a man forced into action against 
 his will; ' stay here, Mark, till I let you know 
 what has happened.'
 
 A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR. 225 
 
 But Mark liacl already followed him bare- 
 headed into the ixarden. 
 
 ' Not you, not ijou^ cried the attorney as 
 he caught sight of him : ' I want my son 
 Christopher, and no one else.' 
 
 XJpon a hint so very plain Mark had no 
 alternative of course but to act ; so he returned 
 into the house while Kit stood by his father's 
 stirrup hstening to the story, which, with many 
 an impassioned expletive and gesture, the old 
 man poured into his ear. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 226 KIT A MEMORY. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 THE MAGISTRATE. 
 
 Why Mr. Garston should have had his say out 
 immediately under the Dovecote windows can 
 only be accounted for by his being so choke 
 full of it that to carry it any further without 
 spilling it was an impossibility. Otherwise he 
 might just as well have pulled up a few yards 
 further on, and not have exposed himself so 
 directly to the enemy's fire. For, though 
 Eachel and her son had withdrawn, and the 
 segis of Mark's friendship protected Kit from 
 the animadversions of the rest, the spectacle of 
 the swarthy attorney breathing forth fire and
 
 THE MAGISTRATE. 227 
 
 fury (as was evident) into his son's ear was a 
 temptation to them to express their views of 
 him. 
 
 ' Upon my hfe,' observed the Doctor, ' I 
 believe the man has fomid out his mistake 
 already, and is pitching into Christopher as a 
 rehef to his feelings.' 
 
 ' He hasn't found Ms money,' put in Frank, 
 drily, ' or he would not be in such a passion.' 
 
 ' If he was as careful of himself as of his 
 coin, he wouldn't do it,' observed the Doctor. 
 ' A man of his habit of body, and especially in 
 this hot weather, should not allow himself such 
 violent delights.' 
 
 ' Poor Kit,' sighed Mark, compassionately ; 
 ' what a thing it must be to have such a father ! 
 I wonder what has happened up at the 
 Knoll. Perhaps my mother and Maud 
 together may have persuaded him to acquit his 
 
 q2
 
 228 KiT : A MEMORY. 
 
 first victim, and now with redoubled energy lie 
 is casting about for another.' 
 
 ' He does not give me the impression/ 
 observed Frank, critically, ' of having been 
 subjected recently to female influence.' 
 
 ' Come, his eloquence is exhausted at last,' 
 cried Mark, who was standing with the others 
 at the window, watching the colloquy between 
 father and son. 'Now Kit will come back 
 and tell us all about it.' 
 
 ' Not he,' said the Doctor, I am afraid 
 with some touch of malicious satisfaction : ' he 
 is walking away, by the old gentleman's side, 
 like a captive tied to the saddle bow. It's a 
 case of needs must.' 
 
 ' Where the Devil rides,' added Frank, 
 grimly ; ' I wonder where on earth they're 
 going to ? They have taken the turning to 
 the Eectory.'
 
 THE MAGISTRATE. 229 
 
 Mark uttered a deep sigh, for he guessed 
 their errand, which the others did not. And 
 he guessed right. 
 
 The attorney and his son moved on in 
 silence ; the latter had made his protest in 
 reply to the declaration of the other's inten- 
 tions, and it had been swept away by a whirl- 
 wind of wrath. The story that he had told to 
 him will be related presently. Even though 
 Mr. Garston had eased his mind of its load of 
 indignation, there were still some dregs in the 
 phial ; some droppings after the thunder storm . 
 ' I will have this sifted to the bottom,' he 
 muttered fiercely, 'though it should cost me 
 my fortune.' 
 
 Christopher Garston shrugged his shoulders. 
 ^ You used to tell , me, father, that there was 
 nothing so foolish as to throw good money 
 after bad.'
 
 230 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' What do you mean, sir ? ' exclaimed the 
 attorney, stopping his horse, and facing round 
 upon the speaker. ' Why should the money 
 be bad — by which I suppose you mean 
 lost irrevocably? You don't suppose the 
 fellow could have made away with it in a 
 week. Every one is not a spendthrift like 
 yourself.' 
 
 ' I am sorry I put in a word, sir,' was the 
 young man's reply, which, if tone has any 
 significance, implied that argument is thrown 
 away in the case of a gentleman who has lost 
 his temper ; ' what I m^eant was that even 
 supposing that Abel is guilty ' 
 
 ' Supposing ! Who supposes it ? It is 
 certain/ 
 
 ' Very good ; even so, he has powerful 
 friends. You know the law better than I do, 
 but that circumstance has some weight, I
 
 THE MAGISTRATE, 231 
 
 believe. Moreover, Mark ofiered to pay the 
 money.' 
 
 ' Hush it up ! ' exclaimed the attorney, 
 sla]3ping his sturdy thigh, 'I will see them 
 d — d first. But I am glad you reminded 
 me of Mark's ofier. That's a point.' 
 
 ' It was in reply to your remark that you 
 would get the money out of somebody,' 
 observed Kit, with a look that seemed to say 
 ' and that is a point on the other side.' 
 
 'He's taken liimself off already, but I'll 
 have him before night,' pursued the attorney 
 vindictively. 'I have given notice at the 
 station, and they have telegraphed down the 
 line.' 
 
 ' That was a httle precipitate, I think.' 
 
 ' Do you ? ' replied the other, in a voice 
 like the snap of a clasp knife. 
 
 ' Considering, I mean,' continued the
 
 232 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 young man coolly, ' that Abel is at the present 
 moment at the Dovecote with his mother and 
 sister.' 
 
 ' So miicli the better : I &hall know wdiere 
 to lay my hands upon him. He's getting up 
 his case, no doubt ; backing it with a perjury 
 or two from the women. They w^ill have to 
 swear pretty hard to swear away the number 
 off a five-pound note. 
 
 They had by this time reached the Eectory 
 gate, which lay back on its hinges in the usual 
 hospitable foshion ; on the lawn within stood 
 the Eector himself, who, attracted by the 
 sound of hoofs, was looking wdth curiosity 
 towards them, shading his eyes from the 
 sun, from which his close-fitting scull cap 
 offered no protection, by means of an open 
 book. 
 
 ' Halloo ! What's this, Mr. Garston ? The
 
 THE MAGISTRATE. 233 
 
 idea of you and your son reviving the old 
 system of ride and tie. The objection to it, in 
 these days, is that when the rider leaves his 
 horse there is a possibility of some one else 
 walking off witli it, instead of the proper 
 person.' 
 
 ' You may say that, sir,' said the attorney 
 with energy. ' In these days you have to hold 
 your hat on with both hands to keep it for 
 your own, and then you get your pockets 
 picked.' 
 
 As Mr. Garston thus epitomised the 
 morality of the day he threw himself off his 
 steed. 
 
 'If you will be good enough to let your 
 man give my mare a feed of corn, I shall be 
 obliged to you, Mr. Penryn, for she has more 
 work before her, and it will save time.' 
 
 ' Certainly, by all means,' said the Eector,
 
 234 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 wonderiDg in bis mind why the attorney came 
 to the Eectory for corn when his own stalls 
 were not a mile away ; ' Jem, take Mr. 
 Garston's horse and feed him. Will you take 
 anything yourself?' he continued; 'we have 
 refreshments for man and beast : you are old 
 enough to remember the old formula.' 
 
 ' I am come here on a matter of business,' 
 said the attorney in a tone of some severity ; 
 the lightness of the Sector's tone, under 
 which he always fancied lay some contempt for 
 himself, jarred upon him under the present 
 circumstances even more than usual. 
 
 ' Very good,' returned the other, in total 
 ignorance, of course, of his visitor's mission, 
 and resenting his manner; 'there is no occa- 
 sion to be so very serious even if you have. 
 Business is not thunder, nor men milk, that we 
 should all turn sour at the sound of it.'
 
 THE MAGISTRATE, 235 
 
 To tins conceit the attorney answered 
 nothing ; if a devout wish that he had a bill of 
 sale upon the Eector's furniture in his pocket, 
 and had been empowered to put in the broker's 
 man, flashed across his mind, he dismissed it 
 instantly ; he felt that he had already made a 
 false start, and must direct all his energies to 
 the imcongenial task of conciliation. 
 
 ' I hate to trouble men of letters, Mr. 
 Penryn, with any mere common sense — I mean 
 commonplace — matter, which is necessarily 
 out of their hue. If there had been any other 
 magistrate ' 
 
 'Pray make no apologies, Mr. Garston,' 
 interrupted the other, ' of course I am at the 
 disposal of justice, though I am very sorry she 
 wants me. Nothing has gone wrong among 
 our Mogadion people, I do hope ? ' 
 
 'Merely a theft of two hundred pounds.'
 
 236 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 ' Good Heavens ! On Avhoni and by 
 whom ? ' 
 
 ' On me, by my servant, Abel Deeds. He 
 took the money out of my desk.' 
 
 ' Unless you saw him do it witli your own 
 eyes, Mr. Garston,' observed the Eector gravely, 
 ' I shall be hard to persuade of that.' 
 
 'A magistrate is not a juryman, Mr. 
 Penryn,' replied the other curtly ; ' but, as it 
 happens, it is not a case of credibility at all, but 
 one of proof, as you shall hear.' 
 
 And in a few words he told him the facts 
 with which w^e are acquainted. 
 
 The Eector's face grew grave and sad. 
 
 'You have seen this missing note yourself, 
 have you, Mr. Garston ? ' 
 
 ' No, I have not, but Mrs. Medway has, 
 and Miss Maud and my daughter have.' 
 
 ' Then one of them should be here. I can-
 
 THE MAGISIRATE. 237 
 
 not issue a warrant upon hearsay — upon any 
 mere unsupported assertion . Why did you not 
 bring your daughter with you ? ' 
 
 ' Trenna was not in the house when I 
 called at the Knoll,' returned tlie attorney with 
 suppressed passion, ' they had got her out of 
 the way on purpose. And neither Mrs. 
 Medway nor her daughter would afford me any 
 information. It is a conspiracy, nothing less, to 
 defeat the ends of justice.' 
 
 ' I will not permit you to apply such words 
 as those to any friend of mine/ said the Eector 
 sharply. 
 
 His face, however, exhibited dismay as well 
 as indignation ; it was not, he felt, impossible 
 that, in her zeal for Abel and her mistrust of 
 his accuser, Mrs. Medway might have allowed 
 herself to indulge in a little obstruction. 
 
 ' I am come here for a warrant against Abel
 
 238 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 Deeds, who has robbed me of a large sum of 
 money. He has already fled from my service. 
 If you refuse on my personal application to 
 grant a warrant against him, and he escapes 
 from justice, you will be held responsible. 
 You know the law, sir.' 
 
 Now this, as the attorney rightly conceived, 
 was one of the few things which the Eector, 
 although a magistrate, did not know. It was 
 the first time — so honest was the community 
 among which he lived — that he had ever been 
 applied to upon any matter of the sort, and 
 though he had punctually attended to his 
 duties at petty sessions, they had in no way 
 enlightened him as to the present proceeding. 
 
 ' It seems to me incredible,' he hesitated, 
 ' from what I know of Mrs. Medway, that she 
 should fail in any duty, public or private. 
 Upon what ground did she refuse to let you see 
 the note ? '
 
 THE MAGISTRATE. 239 
 
 'Upon no ground whatever. I was met 
 with a flat denial.' 
 
 The Eector bit his hps and looked about 
 him indecisively ; his eyes fell on Christopher, 
 who, behind his father's portly form, nodded 
 encouragement. 
 
 ' Were you present, Mr. Christopher ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir, but my father told me all about 
 it/ 
 
 ' Well, what did he say as to Atrs. Medway's 
 refusal to show him the note — pardon me, Mr. 
 Garston ' — for the attorney was about to speak 
 — ' but I am, officially, the master here. I 
 wish to hear what your son has to say.' 
 
 ' My father said that Mrs. Medway had de- 
 clined to take any step m the matter — even so 
 much as to show him the note — without advice 
 from either yourself or Dr. Meade.' 
 
 ' Just so ; that comes to the same thing,' 
 observed the attorney indifferently.
 
 240 KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 'Not exactly, Mr. Garston. If you had 
 quoted Mrs. Medway's words I should have 
 known how to act ; and since your mare looks 
 tired I shall be happy to offer you a seat in my 
 pony chaise. If you like to accompany us to 
 the Knoll, Christopher, there is room for you 
 also.* 
 
 The Eector was not wont to be so gracious 
 to the young man, whom of late years indeed 
 he had rarely addressed without the preface of 
 'Mr.,' but his frank conduct on this occasion 
 had pleased him ; and perhaps he was not un- 
 wilhng to have a third party, even if it were 
 Mr. Garston's son, to avert a tete-a-ttte with Mr. 
 Garston. 
 
 The proposition was by no means received 
 with rapture by Kit himself; he expressed his 
 thanks as the attorney did, but looked at the 
 proffered vehicle when it came round in a way
 
 THE MAGISTRATE. 241 
 
 that the proverb teaches us we should not look 
 at a gift horse, and by inference a lent chaise ; 
 while so far from 'jumping at it,' he climbed 
 on to the perch behmd (leaving tlie front seat 
 to his elders) with the inertia and deprecation 
 of a moulting bird. It was evident in fiict 
 that Mr. Christopher was in two minds, as the 
 phrase goes, whether he would go at all. 
 
 The journey was not much enhanced bv 
 conversation, and indeed each of the three per- 
 sons had subject for thought enough fully to 
 employ him ; Mr. Penryn was thinking of poor 
 Abel, as to whom his magisterial mind could 
 not but acknowledge things looked black ; Mr. 
 Garston, of his two hundred pounds deficit ; 
 while Kit, to judge by the extreme seriousness 
 and even anxiety of his expression, would have 
 been pronounced, by his enemies at least, to 
 have been thinking of his own affairs. 
 VOL. I. K
 
 242 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 FOILED. 
 
 On ordinary occasions when the Eector paid a 
 visit to the Knoll, the old servant, Michael, 
 received him with respectful inquiries after his 
 honour's health, and immediately ushered him 
 into the presence of his mistress or her 
 daughter, whether they were in the house or 
 garden ; when ' My dear Mr. Penryn, how glad 
 we are to see you,' was his unfailing welcome. 
 But to-day, though Michael paid him all due 
 reverence, his companionship with the attorney 
 seemed to stiffen the old man into stone. ' He 
 would see,' he said, in answer to the usual
 
 FOILED. 243 
 
 inquiries, but he did not know whether his 
 mistress was at home ; and when this assurance 
 had been given, he ushered the party into the 
 empty drawing-room with the sort of ceremony 
 used by Mr. Crossbones the undertaker in 
 Mogadion when, at some great country ob- 
 sequies, he would murmur, ' Your hat, if you 
 please, Mr. Penryn,' previously to encircling it 
 with a weeper. 
 
 The room was as pretty as ever ; the 
 fountain in the conservatory on which it opened 
 ' kept the ball alive ' as usual on the top of its 
 ever-falling column ; the birds in the little 
 aviary had not lost a note, but to two at least 
 of the party the room wore an air quite dif- 
 ferent from that to which they had been 
 accustomed. And when Mrs. Medway came 
 sailing in with unwonted dignity, and a 
 certain umbrage in her manner, like that of a 
 r. 2
 
 244 AVr.- A MEMORY. 
 
 ruffled swan, matters looked more strangely 
 still. 
 
 ' I am glad you are come, Mr. Penryn,' she 
 said gravely, as she took the Eector's hand, 
 ' and am not sorry you brought Mr. Garston 
 with you; as for Kit, he is always welcome 
 here.' 
 
 It was clear that the speaker thought a 
 rupture with the attorney was inevitable — nay, 
 even deemed that it had already occurred — and 
 was taking an early opportunity of announcing 
 that the offence of the father was not to be 
 visited upon his children ; but her speech, 
 though intended to be so far conciliatory, as 
 it turned out was unfortunate. It gave an 
 opportunity to the attorney to observe after- 
 wards that ' the woman ' showed from the 
 first that she had no expectation of his speak- 
 in 2^ to her attain.
 
 FOILED. 245 
 
 * I conclude,' continued Mrs. Medway, 
 addressing the Eector, ' that Mr. Garston has 
 acquainted YOU with the unhappy circumstances 
 wliich caused him to pay us a visit this morning. 
 He came here for the note which he alleges to 
 have been stolen from him by our Lucy's 
 brother — a man you have known, Mr. 
 Penryn, from a child, and whose family you 
 know to be as honest as any in Mogadion. I 
 declined, for Abel's sake, I own, to show him 
 that note, except under advice from those in 
 wdiom I had confidence. I am sorry that my 
 refusal shoidd have offended him, but beyond 
 that, in the way of apology, I cannot go.' 
 
 ^You have forgotten to mention that you 
 put my daughter — my own daughter — out of 
 the way, Madam,' observed ]\Ir. GaMon, in a 
 voice trembling with passion, ' so that I was 
 unable to obtain information from any source.'
 
 246 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 ' Put her out of the way ? ' repeated the 
 Eector, smiling. ' Come, come, Mr. Garston, 
 Mrs. Medway did not surely take such strong 
 measures as all that. The young lady is 
 alive and well, even if in captivity, I have no 
 doubt. She merely happened to go out for a 
 walk just as your horse's hoofs announced your 
 coming.' 
 
 Mrs. Medway nodded corroboratively. but 
 with all the gravity of a mandarin. 
 
 ' Well, well, that is not worse,' pursued 
 the Eector, ' than things I have known to 
 take place when I have been on the 
 Bench. A witness acting on the suggestion 
 even of his legal adviser does sometimes 
 take a walk at a time which is inconvenient 
 for the prosecution. Nevertheless, I can- 
 didly confess that Mrs. Medway should 
 have shown you the note. However, we
 
 FOILED. 247 
 
 can see it now — it's just where it was, I 
 suppose P ' 
 
 ' But the thief himself may not be where 
 he was/ observed the attorney acidly. 
 
 ' Abel Deeds was at the Dovecote less than 
 an hour ago,' remarked Christopher, quietly. 
 
 'At the Dovecote? Why, I understood 
 you to say, Mr. Garston, that he had run 
 away,' exclaimed the Eector, indignantly. 
 
 ' I said he had run away from my service,' 
 answered the attorney, sullenly. ' It is not my 
 business to ask where he is gone at present. I 
 am not one to bark till I can bite.' 
 
 If Mr. Gai'ston had really been, as his 
 favourite metaphor suggested, of the canine 
 race, and an inferior specimen of it, Mrs. 
 Medway could scarcely have regarded him 
 with more disdain. 
 
 ' I suppose, Mr. Penryn, you wish to see
 
 248 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 this note ? ' she said, ignoring the attorney 
 altogether. 
 
 'Well, yes, if you will be so good,' re- 
 turned the Eector, with an air, it must be 
 confessed, not very suitable to a judicial in- 
 vestigation. One would have thoudit that he 
 had been asked to look at some specimen of 
 Druidical remains, the genuineness of which he 
 doubted, but in which, out of regard for their 
 possessor, he was compelled to feign an interest. 
 
 His hostess led the way to the boudoir, and 
 pointed to the drawer which was the repository 
 of Lucy's little treasure. ' Here is the key,' 
 she said, producing it, ^ and that is all, thank 
 Heaven,' she added with significance, ' that I 
 have to do with the matter.' 
 
 ' I hope nobody else has had to do with it ; 
 I mean has had the opportunity of meddhng 
 with the note,' observed the attorney.
 
 FOILED. 249 
 
 ' The key has not left my possession, sir,' 
 answered Mrs. Medway, haughtily, ' since the 
 drawer was opened in your daughter's pre- 
 sence.' 
 
 Mr. Penryn took the key and took out the 
 purse. ' There is the note. Mr. Garston, it is 
 for you to identify it.' 
 
 The attorney took a seat, spread out the 
 note dehberately before him on the table, and 
 said, ' Ah, that will do.' 
 
 The tone in which he spoke was triumphant ; 
 and a licking of the lips which accompanied 
 the words reminded his hearers of certain 
 tenants of the Zoological Gardens. 
 
 ' You have a memorandum of the number 
 of the missing note, I conclude.' observed the 
 Eector. 
 
 ' I have,' said the attorney, and he produced 
 a slip the duplicate of whicli Trenna had
 
 250 KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 brought with her. ' Here we have it, 28828. 
 — Eh ! What ! Why, there's something wrong 
 here. This note is 28882.' 
 
 ' That is clear enough,' said the Eector. 
 
 ' There is something else clear enough,' 
 answered the attorney, speaking through his 
 teeth, and turning to that very unpleasant 
 colour which the shopman who has no white 
 gloves assures you looks the same as white. 
 ' I warn you, Mrs. Medway, I am not a man 
 to be trifled with.' 
 
 ' What the deuce do you mean, sir ? ' ex- 
 claimed the Eector, indignantly. ' If you 
 think because I am a clergyman that you 
 can insult a lady in my presence, you make 
 a great mistake.' 
 
 ' I beg you will let Mr, Garston have his 
 say,' said Mrs. Medway, with calm contempt. 
 
 ' You will find it is not only " say," but
 
 FOILED. 251 
 
 " do," ma'am,' continued the attorney, with 
 vehemence ; ' there is a conspiracy here ; this 
 is not the note my daughter saw.' 
 
 ' It is the note, sir,' insisted LIrs. Medway, 
 ' the very same. I locked the drawer witli 
 my own hands. I have not the memo- 
 randum here ; but my daughter, Maud, has 
 got it. Maud, Maud ' ! she cried, opening 
 the door, ' come here, and bring Trenna with 
 you.' 
 
 As they were in the next room awaiting 
 events, there was no delay in the production of 
 the two young ladies. 
 
 Maud, indeed, had proposed to bear her 
 mother company in this second reception of 
 her unwelcome guest, which, it was evident, 
 would be an unpleasant ordeal, but Mrs. 
 Medway had declined her offer. ' It is much 
 better,' she said, ' that you should not be
 
 252 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 mixed up in the matter if it can be avoided, 
 my dear.' It now appeared, however, that 
 Maud was to be mixed up in it. The sudden 
 summons had made her heart ' go/ but had 
 not deprived her of her courage, and of at 
 least the external appearancs of calmness. 
 Trenna, on the other hand, was very pale and 
 tremulous. She fixed her eyes upon her 
 father from the first, and never withdrew 
 them, save when directed to do so, throughout 
 the painful interview that followed. Not a 
 single salutation was exchanged on either side. 
 The expression on Mr. Garston's face too 
 clearly expressed ' business ' to admit of that. 
 'Maud, my dear,' said Mrs. Medway, gently, 
 ' where is the memorandum you took of Lucy's 
 note ? ' 
 
 With steady hand Maud produced her 
 card- case. ' Here it is, mamma. I wrote it,
 
 FOILED. 253 
 
 as you know, in Trenna's presence on the back 
 of this card.' 
 
 ' One moment,' interrupted the attorney : 
 ' do you remember the number ? ' 
 
 ' I think so ; but I decline to state it from 
 recollection. It had, however, three eio"hts 
 and two twos in it, because mamma called our 
 attention to that fact.' 
 
 ' She did, did she ? ' said the attorney, with 
 a sneer. ' That was a very convenient coinci- 
 dence. What do you say, Trenna ? ' 
 
 ' The number was 28882, papa.' 
 
 ' There ! ' said Mrs. Medway, triumphantly. 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! I see it is written on the 
 card plainly enough,' continued the attorney. 
 ' She has, no doubt, had every opportunity 
 while under this roof of refreshing her 
 memory.' 
 
 ' Indeed, papa, I have never looked at the
 
 254 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 card since,' returned Trenna, simply. * It 
 made me miserable enough to think of it.' 
 
 ' Then you are quite sure that the number 
 on the note corresponded with that upon the 
 slip?' 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! I am afraid, at least, that there 
 can be no mistake upon that point. Here is 
 the slip with the number of lost notes, and 
 here is the number with the cross which I put 
 against it, 28828.' 
 
 ' But the number of Lucy's note is 28882,' 
 said Mrs. Medway. ' It is very curious ! ' 
 
 ' V — ery,' interposed the attorney, sar- 
 donically. ' One would almost think there 
 was magic in it.' 
 
 ' I didn't look at the slip myself,' said Mrs. 
 Medway, taking no notice of this sarcasm, and 
 addressing herself to the Eector, ' both Maud 
 and Trenna being so positive about the number
 
 FOILED, 255 
 
 being there, and of course it was no pleasure 
 for me to see it ; but if a mistake has been 
 made, I am sure it will be a cause of thank- 
 fulness to all of us.' 
 
 'People sometimes make mistakes for 
 which they have cause to be anything but 
 thankful,' observed the attorney, menacingly. 
 'There are mistakes, and there are misde- 
 meanours.' 
 
 'Xo doubt,' put in the Eector, quietly. 
 ' There are also misprisions of felony, and 
 homicide by misadventiu-e, and all sorts of 
 misses, with which the matter in hand has 
 nothing to do. It is clear to me now that 
 the error has arisen through the coincidence 
 in the numbers, which \\\ both cases were 
 composed of the same figures, though in 
 different order.' 
 
 ' That was it, no doubt,' said Mrs. Medway.
 
 256 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 'I remember calling the girls' attention to 
 there being three eights and two twos in it.' 
 
 ' Just so,' said Mr. Penryn, with the smiling 
 complacency of one who has solved a double 
 acrostic, and is awaiting the congratulations 
 of his fellow competitors : ' the young ladies 
 were flurried and frightened, and naturally 
 took one number for the other. I am sure, 
 when he comes to reflect upon the matter, that 
 Mr. Garston himself will be as convinced of 
 the fact as I am, and I hope I may add, as 
 well pleased.' 
 
 To this sanguine speech the attorney only 
 vouchsafed a contemptuous puff* by way of 
 reply. 'Come here, Trenna,' he said, 'and 
 look me in the face while you answer me ' (a 
 quite unnecessary injunction, by-the-bye, for, 
 as we have said, the young lady had hitherto 
 looked nowhere else) ; ' you are not such a
 
 FOILED. 257 
 
 fool, I know, as to have mistaken one number 
 for another ; a figure in your eyes has as 
 much significance as a letter. Now, tell me 
 was that note you see lying there — No. 28828 
 — the same that you saw taken out of Lucy 
 Deeds' purse yonder ? ' 
 
 ' I have not the least doubt in the world 
 that it was, father,' returned the girl, with a 
 white face, but in unflinching tones. 
 
 ' You dare to tell me that, do you ? Then 
 you now assert that the number on the note 
 did not correspond with the number on the 
 shp, though this very morning you asserted 
 the contrary .^ ' 
 
 ' I thought it did, father ; I suppose, as 
 Mr. Penryn says ' — here her voice trembled 
 for the first time — ' that I was deceived by 
 the coincidence of the figures.' 
 
 ' You lie,' answered the attorney, sternly. 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 ' Come, come, Mr. Garston,' put in the 
 Eector, ' that is not a word to be used before 
 ladies.' 
 
 'It is the truth,' said the attorney, with 
 quiet significance : ' look at her.' 
 
 Pale as ashes, and trembling with sup- 
 pressed emotion, Trenna gazed upon her father 
 like a bird fascinated by a serpent. 
 
 ' And now,' said he, ' I should like a word 
 or two with Miss Maud.' 
 
 ' Then you won't have it,' said the Eector, 
 sharply. ' Between yourself and your 
 daughter I had no right to interfere ; but to 
 Miss Medway, here, you shall not put an in- 
 sulting question, or rather a question which, 
 when she has replied to it, however truthfully, 
 may suggest an insult.' 
 
 ' So you deny me the right of examination, 
 do you, Mr. Penryn? You think it decent,
 
 FOILED. 259 
 
 magistrate though you are, to take sides in this 
 matter? Well, well, I will find means to 
 make the young lady speak. There is justice 
 to be got in other places if not in Mogadion ; ' 
 and with that ]\Ir. Garston put his hat on — as 
 if to show that he was not in a court of justice 
 just at present — and marched out of the room. 
 
 ' He'll have to walk, that's a comfort,' 
 murmured the Eector, complacently ; ' if he 
 takes my chaise I'll prosecute Iiim for felony.' 
 
 ' How shocking it all is ! ' exclaimed Mrs. 
 Medway, throwing up her hands. ' I am so 
 sorry for you, dear Trenna, and for you. Kit.' 
 
 ' Oh, never mind us,' said Kit, cheerfully ; 
 ' the governor's a little put out at having taken 
 a shot at the wrong man, but hell come round, 
 won't he, Trenna .? ' 
 
 But Trenna had covered her face with her 
 hands, and answered nothiiio-. 
 
 s 1
 
 26o KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY, 
 
 Whatever was to be urged against Mr. 
 Garston of Mogadion, it must be said of him 
 that he was as good as his word — whenever he 
 threatened anybody. In most cases his shrewd 
 eye to the main chance kept his temper under 
 control, but there were occasions when the 
 Spanish blood in his veins got the mastery of 
 him, and impelled him to do things that were 
 not remunerative. His prosecution — most 
 people called it his persecution — of Abel Deeds 
 was a case in point. That he had strong 
 suspicions to go upon in the first instance it
 
 AN L\\ SELFISH ALLY. 261 
 
 must be admitted, but they were not proofs, 
 and when he attempted to collect evidence we 
 have seen that it eluded him. In his own 
 mind, it is true, he was well convinced that 
 the Medway family (probably in collusion 
 with his own daughter) were in a conspiracy 
 to shield his offending servant. But that was 
 "no excuse — as a lawver — for his ofoino' straight 
 away from the Knoll to Mr. Trelawney, the 
 nearest magistrate, and obtaining from him, on 
 his own sworn information, a warrant against 
 Abel Deeds. 
 
 The immediate consequence of this was the 
 appearance at the Dovecote — more pheno- 
 menal than that of a blue-bottle fly at Christ- 
 mas — of a policeman. It was a visit of a very 
 different nature from that of one of the 
 Metropolitan brigade with his starched manner, 
 his ' shibboleth ' of ' wanted,' and that incon-
 
 262 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 trovertible logic in his pocket which closes 
 with a snap ; for it Avas simply Bob Ellis, 
 whom Dr. Meade had brought into the world 
 and vaccinated, a protege of old Rachael, and a 
 personal friend and former playmate of the 
 accused himself. Nothing could be more 
 apologetic than his manner (for indeed his 
 presence under the Doctor's roof on such an 
 errand seemed to him little less than sacrilege), 
 or accommodating tlian his behaviour. 'Busi- 
 ness w^as business,' he said in a tone which 
 quite corroborated the Eector's view^ of that 
 occupation, ' but he know'd his place as well as 
 his duty ' — which I am afraid w^as a euphe- 
 mism for offering if desirable to keep the 
 strictest watch at the front door, while Abel 
 made his escape through the back garden. 
 
 On the other hand Bob's visit, since it was 
 known to all Mogadion, was more detrimental
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY. 263 
 
 to Abel's character than if he had been wanted 
 by the whole Metropolitan Brigade from A to Z. 
 
 ' All the town will know^ he has been took 
 up,' sobbed the unhappy Eachel. ' To think 
 that it should ever be cast up against a sou of 
 mine that he was a jail-bird ! ' 
 
 ' That it never shall be,' said the Doctor 
 stoutly : ' I'll take Abel over with me to Mr. 
 Trelawney, and be bail for him myself — 
 which accordingly he did. Whereby Mr. 
 Garston's threat that the offender should pass 
 that night in the Eoundhouse — as the Moga- 
 dion dungeon was called — failed of its accom- 
 plishment. 
 
 This, as we have said, was the immediate 
 effect of the attorney's hasty action ; but the 
 more remote consequences were much more 
 serious and extensive in their sphere of action. 
 A feud arose between Mr. Garston and certain
 
 264 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 of his neighbours, with whom we are ac- 
 quainted, which was never healed. The cata- 
 clysms that rend asunder country friendships 
 are often very small affairs. A game-law 
 decision erring on the score of mercy at tlie 
 petty sessions ; a speech at election time ; the 
 question of whether a horse has three legs 
 or four argued between buyer and seller ; a 
 disinclination for afternoon church : any one of 
 these may have the effect of a social earth- 
 quake and convulse a provincial community 
 with anything but mirth. 
 
 The flag of discussion may be but of the 
 size of a pocket handkerchief, but, once raised, 
 and the spirit of partisanship evoked, the whole 
 parish becomes a camp, and tlie very Vestry a 
 battle-field. 
 
 Mogadion was a peaceful spot, but, as we 
 have said, it had more than one attorney ; and
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY. 265 
 
 even while Dr. Meade was on his way to the 
 magistrate, his son had walked down the 
 street, and stopping at a small door with an 
 immense brass plate — like a cuirass on a 
 Middlesex militiaman — with ' Mr. Texxaxt, 
 Solicitor,' engraved upon it, had instructed 
 that gentleman to commence an action for 
 slander upon Abel Deeds' behalf, against ]VIi\ 
 Garston. 
 
 Under other circumstances, this proceeding 
 would have troubled the rival attorney not a 
 little; for, just as a parson is the most impatient 
 of listeners to a homily from one of his own 
 cloth, so the man of law exceedingly resents 
 writ, summons, or notice, directed against his 
 own learned person ; but, for the present, Mr. 
 Garston w^as too full of the sense of personal 
 wrong to feel anything but wrath at this pro- 
 cedure, which only caused him to consult with
 
 266 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 greater diligence the enactments against ' Con- 
 spiracy,' with the hope of carrying fire and 
 sword into the household at the Knoll. 
 
 His first act was to send for Trenna, who 
 had, of course, no choice but to obey his 
 summons, and a very unpleasant quarter of an 
 hour did that young lady pass under his cross- 
 examination. She stuck, however, to her 
 story, suggesting that the key of the mystery 
 must needs lie in the coincidence of the figures, 
 which, as being the Eector's own explanation 
 of the matter, by no means rendered it more 
 acceptable to her father. He reiterated the 
 obnoxious word he had already applied to her, 
 accused her of being a traitress and a rene- 
 gade, and finished with the most violent male- 
 dictions against her late hostess and her 
 daughter, whom he announced it to be his firm 
 intention to place in the criminal dock.
 
 AN UXS ELFISH ALLY. 267 
 
 To the invectives against herself Trenna 
 answered nothing ; she sat with pale face and 
 lips compressed, like one in tlie pillory to 
 whom dead cats and cabbage stalks were no 
 worse things than were to be expected; only 
 at times, when a stone struck her — when he 
 called her 'traitress,' for example — she shivered 
 a little, and murmured, 'Xot that, not that,' 
 beneath her breath. "Wlien he spoke of the 
 Medways, however, she did essay to moderate 
 the rancour of his tongue. 
 
 ' You are wrong, father, you are wrong,' 
 slie pleaded ; ' they are good, kind, honest 
 people.' 
 
 ' Good, kind,' he reiterated scornfully ; 
 ' yes, of course, it is easy to be good and kind 
 when it costs one nothing ; and especially to 
 forgive injuries which are committed against 
 some one else. As for honest, they are not.
 
 268 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 It is as bad to shield a thief as to he one, and 
 that Mrs. Medway and her daughter, or you^ 
 have put another note in that purse instead of 
 the stolen one is positively certain. I'll sift the 
 matter, however, if it costs me my fortune, to 
 the very bottom/ 
 
 ' It may cost you more than that,' cried 
 Trenna, desperately. 
 
 ' More than my fortune ! What do you 
 mean, mrl? To be sure I liave no monev 
 to throw away, thanks to your spend- 
 thrift brother. But — ' here he paused, and, 
 attracted by some expression in her face, 
 rose from his chair, with fear as well as 
 fury in his eyes, and seized her waist — 
 ' what is it, Trenna ? What do you mean, I 
 say?' 
 
 'Nothing but what I said, father,' she 
 answered quickly. ' What is fortune com-
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY, 269 
 
 pared with a good name? If you push this 
 matter to extremity you will make enemies for 
 us of everybody. And we are not so flush of 
 friends.' 
 
 ' Friends ! I want no friends. I want my 
 money, and I want revenge ; and I will have 
 them both.' 
 
 If any one who saw him at that moment, 
 just when he said ' revenge,' had had a doubt 
 of Mr. Garston's origin, it would have been set 
 at rest. Eelentless, swart, resentful, he looked 
 every inch a Spaniard. 
 
 ' Papa, when are the Assizes ? ' inquired 
 Trenna, after a long pause. 
 
 ' The Assizes ? Ay, there will be some- 
 thing seen then in the newspapers, such as was 
 never seen before. Among the " Fashionable 
 Departures " you will read " From the Knoll, 
 Mo^adion, to Dartmoor Prison " '
 
 270 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' I asked ivlien they would be, father/ 
 interrupted Trenna. 
 
 ' What is that to you ? Next month.' 
 
 ' And in the meantime are we — that is, Kit 
 and I — to be strangers to the Medways ? ' 
 
 ' No, why should you ? Their quarrel is 
 with me, and not with mine.' 
 
 This reply surprised the girl more than it 
 pleased her. She knew her father too well to 
 suppose the reason given for the continuance of 
 her intimacy at the Knoll to be the true one, 
 even had he not termed her ' traitress ; ' he 
 wished, by permitting things to go on as usual, 
 to lull suspicion. If he suffered her to come 
 and go between the two houses as before, the 
 Medways would never dream of his intentions. 
 That her conjecture was correct she felt con- 
 vinced, when the attorney added in gentler 
 tones, ' Nor do I wish to cut off your connec-
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY. 271 
 
 tion with the Dovecote folks. They harboured 
 Abel Deeds, 'tis true, but while they thought 
 liim innocent it was at worst but an un- 
 neighbourly act. He is in the Eoundhouse 
 now, and no more need be '<said about it.' 
 
 ' In the Roundhouse ! ' cried Trenna, clasp- 
 ing her hands in horror. 
 
 ' Y<3S ; and will only leave it for the gaol, 
 where lie will have better company perhaps 
 than he expected. • All these things however 
 are matters for a judge and jury, and in no 
 way concern a young lady like yourself. You 
 need make no change in your habits upon my 
 account ; and what I say in that respect — as 
 you may tell him if you please — applies to 
 your brother also.' 
 
 Here the attorney took down from their 
 shelf a bundle of legal documents, bound 
 together with red tape, and, having blown the
 
 272 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 dust from them, proceeded to bury himself in 
 their contents like a parchment worm, an 
 action which Trenna rightly took to be an 
 order of release. 
 
 On the gravel sweep outside, Kit was 
 walking to and fro awaiting her. 
 
 ' Well, my poor Trenna,' he said, embracing 
 her affectionately, ' you have borne the 
 burden and heat of the day, but now I do 
 hope it's over.' 
 
 'No, Kit, no,' she answered sorrowfully. 
 ' Papa is resolved not only to get his rights but 
 to punish Mrs. Medway.' 
 
 ' Tut, tut, this world is not the House of 
 Commons that everything can be done by 
 Eesolution. In law he has not a leg to stand 
 upon, either as regards our friends at tlie 
 Knoll, or Abel. He wdll find all that out 
 as soon as his temper cools, and drop the 
 business.'
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY. 273 
 
 Trenna shook her head. ' I never saw hhn 
 half so bad as this, Kit. And, what is worse 
 than all, he tells me that he has just put poor 
 Abel in prison, \yhen he told me that I 
 thought I should have died of shame.' 
 
 ' What a tender heart you have, dear 
 Trenna, as indeed I have good cause to know,' 
 he said caressingly ; ' as a matter of fact, how- 
 ever, Abel is no more in prison than you are. 
 Dr. Meade has bailed him.' 
 
 ' But he will have to go to prison after 
 all.' 
 
 * Not he ; he will just stay out on bail till the 
 Assizes, and then the governor will withdraw 
 from the prosecution. He will not throw good 
 money after bad, you may depend on't.' 
 
 ' Oh, Kit, do you really think that that will 
 be the end of it all.^ How thankful we ought 
 to be. Do you mean to say that being con- 
 
 YOL. I. T
 
 ^74 A77\- A MEMORY. 
 
 vinced of Abel's guilt, but unable to prove it, 
 papa will do nothing farther ? ' 
 
 ' iSTothing. He has nothing to go upon but 
 the note in Lucy's purse. If he had not been 
 so infernally precipitate, the whole thing would 
 now be over.' 
 
 ' And what is it that is not over ? ' 
 ' Well, Dr. Meade has instructed that fellow 
 Tennant to commence an action for libel on 
 behalf of Abel ; the governor has laid himself 
 open to it, no doubt ; and the question is 
 whether or no, if the thing comes on for trial, 
 the whole affair will have to be gone into. The 
 Doctor is not a man who can be ignored in any 
 way.' 
 
 'This seems to me worse than all,' mur- 
 mured Trenna, despairingly. 
 
 ' It is deuced bad, no doubt, and it must be 
 stopped somehow. I suppose all communica-
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY, 27$ 
 
 tions ^vill have to be suspended between our 
 house and the Dovecote ; or rather they will 
 have to be carried on under the rose.' 
 
 'Xo; papa said he had no objection to 
 you and me taking our own line, just as 
 usual.' 
 
 Kit smiled sardonically. ' He thinks to 
 catch a W'casel asleep, does he ? Well, so much 
 the better for us.' 
 
 ' Frank will surely stand our friend,' said 
 Trenna, earnestly. ' He knows oiu- position so 
 well.' 
 
 ' That will make no difference, my dear 
 Trenna, as regards his feud with the Governor. 
 The Doctor and his son are a sentimental couple 
 in their way, and will move Heaven and earth 
 for Eachael's sake, to whitewash Abel. As for 
 me I am no favourite of Frank's ; and any 
 appeal from me would do as much harm as 
 T 2
 
 276 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 good ; indeed, under the circumstance, Trenna," 
 he added significantly, ' more liarm. And yet 
 it is a sine qua non that they should abandon 
 these proceedings.' 
 
 ' But if you can't persuade them, Kit ? ' 
 
 ' Then you must try. Of course, it will be 
 disagreeable to you ; exceedingly disagreeable ; 
 worse than anything you have gone through 
 already, perhaps. I don't gloze it over to 
 myself, I do assure you.' 
 
 ' I will do whatever is necessary, Kit,' she 
 answered quietly, ' and that hes within my 
 ])ower.'^ 
 
 ' That is answered like yourself, my brave 
 one,' he replied, with his hand upon her 
 shoulder ; ' as to your power, it is resistless in 
 that quarter. The one thing I like in that great 
 solid stolid creature Frank is the admiration 
 which vou have excited in him. You have
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY. 277 
 
 only to say " don't," and — provided you have 
 not forbidden him to bow before your shrine — 
 he will obey you.' 
 
 ' Frank Meade is an honest gentleman, 
 Kit, and I don't like to hear you turn him 
 into ridicule,' answered Trenna, coldly. 
 
 ' I was only ridiculhig Ms pretensions, my 
 darling,' returned the other gently. ' It would 
 be a little too much if that scientific stiff- 
 necked pig should seriously aspire to my 
 Trenna.' 
 
 ' It would be a great deal too much,' she 
 iinswered bitterly. ' Oh, Kit, Kit, with all 
 your cleverness, and with all your loveableness, 
 how I have wished, how I have prayed ' 
 
 ' That must have been a long time ago,' 
 interrupted Kit, laughing, ' when you had your 
 ■eyes bandaged like a child at blind man's 
 buff.'
 
 278 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ' Perhaps so,' she answered sorrowfully ; 
 ' but I was happier before you took off the 
 handkerchief ; and Frank and Mark are happier 
 men than you.' 
 
 ' Doubtless ; that is easily explained ; they 
 are richer men, and have more comfortable 
 homes. Frank, indeed,' he added after a 
 pause, ' will have no great fortune, nor will he 
 ever make one. He is eminently a groundling ; 
 unfit for a high flight. I should be very, very 
 sorry to see you throw yourself away upon 
 Frank Meade, Trenna.' 
 
 ' You need not fear. Kit,' she answered 
 with a grave smile. ' I am not free to marry. 
 I have some one to look after — and who takes 
 a great deal of looking after — whom I cannot 
 forsake.' 
 
 'You are a dear unselfish creature,' he 
 answered lovingly. 'But that some one will
 
 AN UNSELFISH ALLY, 279 
 
 soon be out of leading strings, and in a position 
 to repay you all he owes you. His debt is so 
 enormous that T could hardly paint his pro- 
 spects more brightly; yes, Trenna, I shall be a 
 rich man, and soon. I have ah'eady rubbed 
 shoulders with men who have made money 
 rapidly, and in all that constitutes capacity of 
 that sort have found myself their superior ; I 
 hold the key of one fortune already in my 
 hand ; and with that achieved — with that to 
 begin with — hke an Archimedes who has found 
 his standpoint, I will roll the world to your 
 feet.' He spoke with the force and fervom% if 
 not of an enthusiast, at least of a man who 
 believes in himself. 
 
 ' But in the meantime, my dear Kit, there 
 are the Assizes.' 
 
 ' That's true,' he answered ruefully ; then 
 tickled by the contrast of tliis commonplace
 
 28o KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 fact with the splendour of his day-dream he 
 burst into a laugh. ' To get the Governor out 
 of his difficulties must be the first step, and 
 it rests with you, my faithful Trenna, to ac- 
 complish it.' 
 
 ' I will do my best,' she sighed, ' at what- 
 ever cost.' 
 
 Of the latter sentence Christopher Garston 
 took no note, thougli a fleeting frown betrayed 
 that he had heard it ; to the former he 
 answered lightly, with a pat on her burning 
 cheek, 'If you do half your best you will 
 succeed, Trenna.'
 
 28l 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. 
 
 The suggestion of Mr. Garston that his Yoiiiig 
 people should mix with the Meacles and 
 Medways upon the old footing, as if nothing 
 had happened to make him count them as 
 enemies, met with no obstruction. The im- 
 pression Kit had produced at the Dovecote on 
 the morning of his last visit had been distinctly 
 favourable to him ; and though their opinion 
 of his character remained perhaps much the 
 same, both the Doctor and his son felt that, 
 in the matter of the alleged robbery, they had 
 done him wrong in placing him in the same
 
 282 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 condemnation as his father. A word or two 
 dropped by Trenna on this point even pro- 
 duced in Frank a feehng of remorse ; and 
 in his endeavour to express regret he had 
 perhaps never shown himself more friendly to 
 her brother than at this very time, when, act- 
 ing on the Doctor's instructions, Mr. Tennant 
 was sharpening his weapons for an onslaught 
 upon the master of Grey House. Mr. Garston's 
 remark, in short, that the whole affair was a 
 matter for judge and jury, seemed to be ac- 
 cepted in its literal sense, and all parties con- 
 cerned agreed to leave it exclusively to their 
 decision. 
 
 At the Knoll, so far from suffering for the 
 offence of their father, Christopher Garston and 
 sister were received with even a warmer 
 welcome than before. In the case of the 
 former, in particular, it seemed that Mark
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. 283 
 
 could not do enough to express his unabated 
 ajBfection and complete understanding of his 
 friend's position. Good taste of course pre- 
 vented his inveighing against Mr. Garston's 
 obstinacy (to which they attributed tlie attor- 
 ney's persistent belief in Abel's guilt in the 
 face of facts), and a natural delicacy prevented 
 his ever alluding to him. What he principally 
 spoke of to Kit now, instead of discussing such 
 matters as had previously formed the staple 
 of their conversation, and some of which — 
 antiquities and county liistory, for example — 
 Kit was wont to throw himself into for his 
 friend's sake rather than his own, was the 
 coming term at Cambridge, for it had been 
 quite decided that Mark was to return with 
 Kit to college. He looked forward to it, of 
 course, as most young men of spirit do, with 
 pleasure ; but what perhaps pleased him most
 
 284 ^^^'^: A MEMORY. 
 
 was the reflection that it would afford him a 
 still more frequent and closer intimacy with 
 Kit himself. 
 
 Never was the phrase ' there is a friend 
 that sticketh closer than a brother' more 
 applicable than in Mark's case, and it would 
 have been untrue and unfair to Kit to say that 
 the attachment was not reciprocated. The 
 difference lay not so much in the fact that 
 the one had many other things to think of 
 besides friendship, and the other very few, but 
 that what occupied Kit's mind could not always 
 be confided to his friend, nor indeed to any one 
 else ; whereas Mark bared his very soul to the 
 eyes of Kit. Kit knew as well as Mark himself 
 how the latter loved his mother and Maud ; 
 how he looked on Trenna as a second sister ; 
 with what affection he regarded Frank (for he 
 showed this without a suspicion of the jealousy
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. 285 
 
 it excited in the other's breast) ; and the high 
 regard in which he held Mr. Penryn and the 
 Doctor. Mark's world was very small — pite- 
 oiisly small as some would think ; in this he 
 was almost like a child ; but there was recom- 
 pence in it, as Kit himself was well aware. 
 
 Life, like a dome of manj-coloured glass, 
 Stains the white radiance of Eternity j 
 
 and the more one sees of Life, in its con- 
 ventional sense, the more it is apt to stain 
 our own humanity. Thanks to his some- 
 what exceptional circumstances, aided by 
 good principles and a fine disposition, Mark 
 Medway was almost stainless — a qualification, 
 as I once heard a clergyman (and not an Irish 
 one either) observe from the pulpit, to be made 
 in the case of ' nine hundred and ninety-nine 
 women out of a thousand, and a still greater 
 proportion of men.'
 
 286 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 It is but seldom that those whose regard 
 for their own belongings is so strongly de- 
 veloped have much affection for outsiders, but; 
 in this respect Mark was an exception. His 
 two friends were as dear to him as though 
 they had been of his own blood, while one of 
 them — Christopher Garston — was a friend, and 
 something more. Except that both Mark and 
 he were grown men, and each possessed of a 
 mature and vigorous intelligence (albeit of a 
 widely different kind), the attachment between 
 them resembled that of a small boy and the 
 ' Cock of the School.' Every one has witnessed 
 some example of it, and not a few have ex- 
 perienced it. The love of Smith minimus for 
 Brown major is the idyll of scholastic life. 
 Only by the time Smith had become Smith 
 major himself, the illusion commonly vanishes, 
 and when they both meet afterwards on the
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. 287 
 
 boards of real life Brown as often as not plays 
 an inferior part, and Smith wonders to himself 
 how he could have ever taken such a mere 
 'super' for his hero. In Mark's eyes, on the 
 contrary, Kit still kept his pre-eminence, 
 
 and, so far as wit and genial grace could 
 earn it, deserved it. In Lamartine's best 
 poem {' The Buonaparte ') he speculates, 
 while admitting the' failings of that 'Scourge 
 of God,' whether genius itself may not be 
 a vhtue ; and, when one considers from 
 outside certain highly attractive personages 
 of one's own acquaintance, one is almost 
 tempted to agree with him. Poor Kit — so 
 far as we know — had nothing of the Napo- 
 leon about him, but it must be confessed that 
 he had won his way into Mark's affections 
 without the aid of virtue ; and there must 
 have been something, one would think, besides
 
 288 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 alloy in a magnet that had thus attracted a 
 heart as true as steel. 
 
 Just now, when his own home was less 
 agreeable to Christopher even than usual, and 
 when his father — having schemes on hand of 
 which his son could only express disapproval 
 — showed no great desire for his presence, 
 the two young men were thrown together a 
 great deal. 
 
 On one occasion the young people — that is 
 to say, Trenna, Maud, and Frank, as well as 
 their two selves — organised a picnic to Polwith 
 Point! Mrs. Medway was indisposed, and 
 unable at the last minute to accompany them, 
 but among such old friends a clir.perone.was 
 not indispensable, so that they drove thither 
 alone. The whole five were as merry as 
 children at a school feast, and, having arrived 
 at their destination, betook themselves to 
 various diversions.
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. 289 
 
 Frank, Avho had brouglit his geological 
 hammer, chipped the rocks ; he was one of 
 those enviable persons who derive a satisfaction 
 from recognising the ' marks of an upheaval ' 
 invisible to the unlearned eye, and ' the action 
 of fire ' where there is not so much as an 
 ember. 
 
 Mark discoiu'sed upon the probable use and 
 intention of rocking- stones — of which there was 
 a splendid specimen in the locality — and Kit 
 provoked him by remarks on ' the cradles of 
 the human race,' and other suggestions not 
 wholly of a scientific kind. He ridiculed 
 Pliny's remarks upon rocking-stones : ' Lay one 
 finger on it and it will sUr, but thrust it 
 with your whole body and it will not move ; ' 
 and when Mark quoted Ftolemy Hephistion, 
 'It can only be raised with the stalk of the 
 asphodel,' he profanely offered to effect a 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 similar miracle with his umbrella. Yet all the 
 time Kit never angered Mark, but the contrary ; 
 such a winning way he had with him (where 
 men liked him to begin with), and such a 
 manner of disagreeing as was more agreeable 
 than other men's assent. 
 
 The two girls having laid out the lunch 
 upon the promontory, whence the wind very 
 superfluously carried their salt into the sea, 
 applied themselves, the one to sketching in 
 water-colours, the other to Art criticism in rose. 
 At their mid-day meal the little party reunited 
 with the punctuality of clockwork. At pic- 
 nics people are always punctual ; the fresh air 
 quickens their appetites, and there is a secret 
 apprehension that there may be nothing left 
 for a late comer. It is the absence of this 
 wholesome fear, joined to natural selfishness 
 and egotism, that makes folks late for ordinary
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. 291 
 
 dinner parties. It is at once the easiest way 
 of showing themselves fashionable and attract- 
 ing attention to the fact ; and then the ^vretches 
 have had afternoon tea and are not hungry. 
 
 To persons of middle age and mature in- 
 teUigence a meal in the open air is a serious 
 mistake. The absence of chairs, though the 
 Komans put up with it, is a serious incon- 
 venience to the stout -made Briton ; but in youth 
 he can eat anyhow. 
 
 That picnic on Polwith Point, with the 
 blue sea hundreds of feet beneath them, tlie 
 stately ships passing on their noiseless way so 
 close, as it seemed, in the clear air, that one 
 could toss a biscuit on to their decks, and witli 
 the sea-gulls wheeling and whining above their 
 heads, was something to be remembered. How 
 little we think, amid such scenes and company, 
 that the day's glad doings are being impressed 
 ir2
 
 292 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 on the retina of the mind, to be reproduced 
 perhaps to our misery, that a time may come 
 when, through cruel contrast, every present 
 pleasure shall inflict a pang, and Joy, mixed 
 with vain Eegret, become Despair ! 
 
 As exercise had been recommended by the 
 faculty for Mark (who, being a wise as well 
 as a learned man, detested it), it had been 
 secretly arranged between his mother and Kit 
 tliat the latter should return home with him on 
 foot. The plot was easier to carry out than 
 most conspiracies, for Kit had only to express a 
 determination to walk home alone to secure 
 Mark, though not, it is true, without protest. 
 So Frank, nothing unwilling, was left in charge 
 of the young ladies and the w^aggonette. 
 
 The vehicle, with two strong horses, liad 
 come from the livery stables at Mogadion, for 
 Mrs. Medway — and small blame to her — did
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. 29J 
 
 not approve of her pet ponies being taken to 
 Polwith. The road was a rough one even in 
 summer, lying partly over, the breezy moor, 
 partly among those deep-sunk Cornish lanes 
 which bring home to one the practicability of 
 the flying leap taken by Commodore Trunnion 
 over the head of the waggoner. 
 
 ' Oh, Frank,' cried Trenna, as they bowled 
 along the moor, ' let us go back by Hart-Leap 
 Hill ' (she had been in better spirits throughout 
 the day than usual, and made her appeal with 
 heightened colour and sparkHng eyes) ; ' the 
 view from the top this evening will be so 
 glorious.' 
 
 ' The view ? ' hesitated Frank, turning 
 round in remonstrance, and not displeased that 
 there was need of it ; it was pleasant to him to 
 have the excuse of arguing with the earnest 
 beauty. ' But think of the road ! It is ahnost
 
 294 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 as steep as the side of a house, and, what is 
 worse, as narrow as the ojutter. Gin a body 
 meet a body ' 
 
 'For shame, sir. Maud, just speak to 
 Frank; 
 
 ' ITothing woukl give me greater pleasure,' 
 said Frank the audacious, assuming an attitude 
 of rapt attention. For Maud, with her fair face 
 aglow with pleasure and the breeze, was like- 
 wise a charming spectacle. Her expression, if 
 not so thoughtful as that of her friend, was 
 even more animated. 
 
 ' Speak to him ! That I never shall demean 
 myself by doing again unless he takes us up 
 Hart-Leap Hill,' she said. 
 
 ' There, sir,' said Trenna, triumphantly. 
 
 ' But my dear girls ' 
 
 ' What impudence ! ' they exclaimed, both 
 together.
 
 HART-LEAP HILL, 295 
 
 ' Well, " girls " then. You can't be grown 
 women to propose such a scheme. The hill is 
 a good half-mile long, and if so much as a gig 
 should be coming down it' — with one accord 
 they turned their backs upon him in contemp- 
 tuous silence, and gazed with affected interest 
 upon the two black specks on the horizon, to 
 which Mark and Kit had been by this time 
 reduced. ' Well, since you have set your 
 minds upon it,' he continued, ' I'll chance it ' 
 
 'The golden opportunity of obliging two 
 young ladies this gentleman calls " chance," ' 
 observed Trenna severely. ' I wonder what 
 he calls good fortune.' 
 
 ' I should call it good fortune if we get up 
 Hart -Leap Hill without meeting anything,' 
 laughed Frank in great good humour. He 
 had never before seen Trenna in so gay a 
 mood ; the high spirits of youth are contagious,
 
 296 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 and as to Maud, the moorland brook beside 
 them had no ripple more fresh than her 
 laughter, no sparkle more bright than her 
 smile. 
 
 Now they dip into the valley and rattle 
 through the quaint old village, with its 
 porched cottages, and its high peaked bridge 
 where the squire's house stands, as it has stood 
 for centuries, and where the vicarage sleeps 
 beneath the shadow of the antique tower ; and 
 now they turn short to Westwood and are lost 
 in the depths of Hart-TiCap Lane. The ascent 
 is straight, and so precipitous that one wonders 
 it is ever used by wheels ; but its steepness 
 does not impress you so much as its pro- 
 fundity — the manner in which the roadway is 
 sunk in the surrounding soil. It resembles a 
 cutting on a railway, or rather, since the sides 
 are perpendicular, a tunnel with the top off;
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. 297 
 
 only, instead of bricks, the walls are bright with 
 wild flowers and greenery, and surmounted by 
 huge trees, whose roots threaten a high-seated 
 driver with the same fate as befell Absolom 
 from the branches. Neither space nor turn in 
 the long vista affords room for so much as 
 a mule to pass them, nor is there a gateway 
 on either side throuorh which the wafjcjonette 
 
 O CO 
 
 can be driven to leave the road clear for the 
 descent of any other vehicle. As they breast 
 the hill and get more involved in the depths of 
 the lane, the two girls seem more and more 
 to enjoy the situation ; while their guardian 
 Frank (such is often the portion of our sex 
 when the other is at high jinks) was straining 
 eye and ear in the direction of the hilltop, 
 where the appearance of another vehicle 
 would mean illimitable obstruction ; they would 
 become like two pellets in a popgun without a
 
 298 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ramrod to push them out. They toil on till 
 they are presently within a hundred yards of 
 the summit. 'Whatever vehicle comes now,' 
 thinks tlie charioteer, ' the driver will sec us 
 and pull up and wait.' 
 
 Maud was in the act of expressing a feigned 
 regret that there had been no adventure, when 
 suddenly there fell upon their ears a noise Hke 
 thunder, and on the top of the hill there flashed 
 clean out against the sky a waggon and horses 
 at full gallop, and without a driver! What 
 had put the animals to flight, there was no time 
 to conjecture ; it was not in the power of the 
 frightened creatures to stop themselves, even 
 had they been so minded. The steeds in the 
 waggonette looked up in mild surprise at the 
 approaching portent, and gently shook their 
 heads as though it was a problem beyond them, 
 why horses, not being urged by mau, should
 
 HART-LEAP HILL. ^299 
 
 come at that pace. But the humans — Frank 
 and the girls — beheld a ghastly charioteer upon 
 the driving seat which they could not see. De 
 Quincey has painted for us Death on wheels in 
 his stage-coach adventure, but the peril in the 
 present instance was far greater than that 
 which he portrays, by reason of the extreme 
 narrowness of the road. There was only one 
 way of escape possible. 
 
 ' Jump ! jump ! ' cried Trenna, and suiting 
 the action to the word, she sprang from the 
 seat of the waggonette at a branch above her, 
 swung for a moment seeking for a footing, and 
 then ahghted in safety on the top of the bank. 
 She had the htheness of an athlete, and not a 
 little of his strength ; a keen eye and a steady 
 hand. But with Maud it was very different. 
 The roar and rumble of the approaching 
 vehicle, hardly visible in the whirlwind of
 
 300 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 dust created by its rapid progress ; the clatter 
 of the galloping cart-horses ; above all, the ex- 
 treme imminence of the peril — for the waggon 
 was now within a few yards of them, though 
 their own horses had stopped — had paralysed 
 her physical powers. She had climbed me- 
 chanically upon the seat at Trenna's cry, but 
 there she stood, dumb and still as a statue, 
 staring at the approaching doom with terrified 
 eyes. 
 
 'Jump! jump!' reiterated Trenna, in an 
 agony ; but the poor girl was panic-stricken 
 and powerless to move a limb. It is the fashion, 
 especially among those who despise the healing 
 art, to talk of Nature as the Eestorer ; ' leave 
 all to Nature,' 'let Nature have her way,' 
 &c., &c., as though Nature had never the fancy 
 to kill and not to save ; nay. there are times 
 (when she is ' put out ' ) when Nature is as a
 
 HART -LEAP HILL. 301 
 
 ravening she-wolf, and would rend the gentlest, 
 limb from limb. 
 
 Since Fate would not spare her, and Maud 
 could not help herself, it seemed that no human 
 power could help her, for though Frank was 
 strong, even for a Cornish man (who are for 
 strength the Anaks of our isle), lie was not a 
 giant ; nor w^as Maud one of those fairy-like 
 maidens with whom a man can hghtly leap 
 across a brook, and hardly know that he is 
 carrying weight with him. She w^as a young 
 woman of ' magnificent proportions,' and ^so^ 
 feet nine in her stockings. And yet w^e may 
 be sure that Mr. Frank Meade had no more 
 idea of leaving her to Nature's kind intentions 
 than an experimental physician. To step from 
 the driving- seat on to the waggonette and throw 
 his left arm round Maud's waist was the work 
 of an instant ; then hugging her to his breast,
 
 302 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 well filled with a fresh store of breath, he leapt 
 not at the branch, but at the bank itself. It 
 was the feat of a Titan, but he accomplished it ; 
 and not only that, but, though he fell, of course, 
 he contrived the fall with such adroitness that 
 he took the ground first, so that she never 
 touched it, nor felt an ounce of him above her. 
 As they fell together there was a crash and roar 
 beneath them, that told of the catastrophe they 
 had escaped by a hair's breadth.
 
 303 
 
 CHAPTEE XYITI. 
 
 AX APPE.\L. 
 
 Ix a very few minutes there arrived help 
 from the farm upon the hill, whence the run- 
 away waggon had started ; the poor horses, 
 grievously wounded by the encounter, were led 
 away, but both vehicles, shattered by the shock 
 — which had, indeed, reduced the waggonette 
 almost to matchwood — were left where they 
 were. Frank and the girls had perforce to 
 continue their journey on foot, which they did 
 in unwonted silence. In the presence of Trenna, 
 Maud could hardly express the gratitude she 
 owed to her preserver ; but her tone and man-
 
 304 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 ner made it sufficiently manifest. She had 
 always liked Frank, but, as she had hitherto 
 imagined, more for her brother s sake than for 
 his own. She had been no whit afraid of him, 
 as she w^as of Kit, but had admired him less. 
 The coolness, however, he had shown in the 
 recent catastrophe, his gallantry, and not least, 
 perhaps, the extraordinary strength and agility 
 he had exhibited, filled her with quite new ideas 
 of him. In her eyes he had suddenly become 
 a hero. She had never been surprised at 
 Mark's attachment to him, but she now won- 
 dered for the first time why Kit was preferred 
 so much before him. 
 
 Was it because Trenna made a shrewd gues^ 
 at what was passing through her friend's mind, 
 and resented it upon her brother's account, or 
 was it for some other reason, that she felt 
 displeased ? She had no right to be jealous ;
 
 AN APPEAL. 305 
 
 indeed, if she had shown the same inabihty to 
 save herself as Maud had done, Frank would 
 doubtless have made the same exertions on her 
 behalf; but jea]ousy does not go ' by rights.' 
 She had certainly felt a pang — not of envy ex- 
 actly, but of regret, or grudge — when she saw 
 ]ier friend in Frank Meade's arms. And after 
 that agreeable experience, I think Frank him- 
 self regarded Maud with somewhat different 
 feelings. At all events he felt an attraction to 
 lier such as all kindly natures do feel towards 
 those to whom they have done a service. And 
 at this Trenna made no guess, because she was 
 certain of it, and the conviction afforded her 
 anything but pleasure. 
 
 When Maud had been seen safely home> it 
 was found that Mrs. Medway had thought an 
 evening drive might do her good, and had gone 
 out with the ponies ; and instead of waiting for 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 3o6 KIT : A MEMORY. 
 
 the return of the carriage Trenna persisted on 
 pursuing her way home on foot, and of course 
 Frank accompanied her. It was the first time 
 they had been alone together since they had 
 rowed up the river in search of the missing 
 boat ; and much had happened in the mean- 
 time. At first they talked of their late adven- 
 ture, to which topic — though he was far from 
 egotistic — the young man would have been 
 well content to stick, for he had a presenti- 
 ment that Trenna might introduce the subject 
 of Abel Deeds, from which they had hitherto 
 abstained by tacit consent. Nor did his suspi- 
 cions prove groundless. 
 
 ' I want to say a few words to you,' said 
 Trenna, suddenly, and with great earnestness, 
 * about this business at the Assizes.'- 
 
 ' We had much better leave that matter to 
 settle itself, Trenna,' was the other's quiet replj^
 
 AN APPEAL. 307 
 
 * Your father has taken his own way, for which 
 you are in no wise responsible ; let the Law 
 decide it. I cannot argue with you upon the 
 rights and wrongs of the question, for very 
 obvious reasons/ 
 
 ' I don't want to argue upon them, Frank 
 I am well persuaded that you are in the right 
 and that papa is in the wrong. It is not that 
 at all ; what I am about to ask of you is a 
 personal favour.' 
 
 'My dear Trenna,' he said gently, but 
 with great gravity, ' whatever you wish me to 
 do, as regards myself or you, you may look 
 upon as done ; I think, indeed, I should have 
 the foresight to understand your wishes, even 
 if unexpressed, as I most certainly should have 
 the desire to fulfil them. But this business of 
 Abel Deeds is not my affair at all ; it is a 
 matter of simple justice. The man, in my 
 
 *x 2
 
 3o8 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 father's opinion, has been grievously wronged, 
 and he is bound, for our old Eachel's sake, to 
 see him righted. Mr. Garston denies that he 
 has been wronged — intends, indeed, if possible, 
 to wrong him still further. It is clearly our 
 duty, if the lad is innocent, to defend him ; if 
 otherwise, the Law will punish him, and your 
 father will be justified.' 
 
 'But you do not only defend Abel, you 
 attack my father.' 
 
 'Pray don't say "you," Trenna ; do not 
 mix me up personally, and without necessity, 
 in this unhappy matter. That I sympathise 
 with Abel is most true, but you must know 
 — you cannot help knowing — what regret and 
 pain it gives me to be obliged to take action 
 in such a matter, and thereby to place myself 
 in apparent antagonism with one so dear and 
 near to you.'
 
 AN APPEAL. 309 
 
 'Apparent?' she echoed bitterly 'You 
 call an action for libel an apparent anta- 
 gonism ? ' 
 
 ' We had no choice but to bring it, Trenna. 
 If you compel me to speak plainly, Mr. 
 Garston's obstinacy has forced that course 
 uj)on us. I am afraid it will be necessary to 
 place both Mrs. Medway and Mark in the 
 witness-box. Can you imagine that anything 
 so painful and embarrassing was of our 
 seeking ? ' 
 
 ' I know, Frank, my father is in the wrong,' 
 returned Trenna, softly ; * I acknowledge that 
 if the case is to rest on its merits it must needs 
 be given against him. I am pleading with you 
 for myself.' 
 
 'Yourself? J^ay, Trenna, I cannot allow 
 you to put the thing that way. What we have 
 all striven to do from the very first is to ehminate
 
 3IO KIT: A MEMORY, 
 
 you and Kit from the whole business ; there is 
 not one of us but understands that you have 
 nothing whatever to do with it, but are as 
 much the victims of circumstances as Abel 
 himself/ 
 
 'Put yourself in my place, Frank,' she 
 answered quickly. 'Suppose my father were 
 your father.' 
 
 Here Trenna, notwithstanding her sagacity, 
 made a mistake. We can go a great way with 
 our friends — with a very dear friend often 
 farther than we ought to go ; but when they 
 make demands upon our sympathy for tlieiv 
 friends (especially if we don't like them) our 
 ardour cools. The very phrase ' suppose my 
 father were your father 'was objectionable to 
 Frank ; he could ^ot picture, even for the sake 
 of argument, the grim proprietor of the Grey 
 House standinof to him in the relation of a
 
 AN APPEAL. 311 
 
 parent in place of the kindly Doctor, with his 
 scorn of baseness and of greed. 
 
 ' K I thought my own father in the wrong,' 
 he answered, though with a keen sense of tlie 
 insufficiency of the reply, ' I should not side 
 with him/ 
 
 ' Nor do I side with my father,' answered 
 Trenna, quickly ; ' but yet I have some sense 
 of proportion. Let Abel be righted by all 
 means, but not in this Quixotic manner. It 
 is surely not worth while to carry fire and 
 sword into a friend's house to right a stable- 
 boy. Let him be exculpated, let him be com- 
 pensated, by all means — if you will give us 
 time. Kit and I will do that ; but do not for 
 his sake persecute us who have done him on 
 wrong. Our home was not so happy a one 
 before, Frank, that it needed such a Nemesis 
 as you have brought upon it, I do assure you.'
 
 312 KIT: A MEMORY. 
 
 'Oh Trenna, Trenna,' pleaded the young 
 man, deeply moved, for he knew that what she 
 hinted at was hkely enough to be the case, or in 
 other words that Mr. Garston, despoiled of his 
 property, and disappointed in his scheme of 
 vengeance, must be a terrible house com- 
 panion ; ' every word you say pains me to the 
 core. But what would you have me do ? ' 
 
 'I would have you drop this action 
 against my father. I ask it not for his sake, 
 but for my own. We have known each 
 other for years, Frank. It is the first favour 
 I have ever asked of you. You will not 
 refuse mc' 
 
 She placed her arm within his own and, 
 gently pressing it, looked up at him with 
 pleading eyes in which the tears were visible. 
 The strong man trembled at her touch, and 
 melted at her tone.
 
 AN APPEAL. 313 
 
 ' I would give all I have to serve you, dear 
 Trenna,' he answered earnestly, ' but ' 
 
 * Ay, " but," ' she answered bitterly. 'There 
 would be no " buts " if Maud were in my 
 place/ 
 
 It was a bold stroke, and one which would 
 never have entered her mind to use but for 
 what had happened that day ; and indeed, 
 save for that, her words would have beaten 
 the air. As it was, Frank's cheek turned 
 scarlet. 
 
 ' There is no woman living whom I would 
 more gladly please than you, Trenna ; I had 
 hoped you had known that.' 
 
 His voice was so tender, his tone so earnest, 
 that it was impossible to doubt the genuineness 
 of his speech. Trenna herself was far from 
 doubting it; though at the moment she would 
 have given much to have been less credulous.
 
 314 KIT: A MEMORY: 
 
 She had drawn a bow somewhat at a venture, 
 and the arrow, in one sense, had gone home ; 
 but in another it had overshot its mark. Her 
 aim had been to attain a certain object, but by 
 no means to draw forth an avowal of affection. 
 The effect upon her was very curious. She 
 turned pale and trembled, and, gently with- 
 drawing her arm from that of her companion, 
 walked on in silence. Little did the young 
 man guess what thoughts were occupying Trenna 
 Garston's mind. She w^as definitely choosing 
 for herself one of two roads in life, or rather 
 between that path that one must tread alone, 
 or that wider way which admits of two abreast. 
 She had never seen a man except Frank Meade 
 of whom she had admitted to herself, ' I could 
 be his wife,' and yet she had never seriously 
 pictured herself in that relation to him. She 
 might or might not have done so under certain
 
 AN APPEAL. 315 
 
 circumstances, but matters had been precipi 
 tated. She was hke one who having been on 
 his guard for years against a particular tempta- 
 tion suddenly finds himself face to face with it. 
 For the moment she forgot the object of her 
 , walk (for she had seized the opportunity of 
 being alone with her present companion with 
 a certain well-defined purpose), and allowed 
 herself a day-dream. Then with a deep sigh, 
 which betokened that she had come to her- 
 self, and certain stern realities, she answered 
 calmly : — 
 
 'You are very good to me, Frank, and 
 always have been. Whatever happens I shall 
 always feel that.' 
 
 ' Good to you ! On the contrary, you have 
 been good to me. For in your view, as regards 
 all show of kindliness, I am well aware there 
 has been an obstacle.'
 
 3i6 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 He referred to her brother, whose jealousy 
 of him in respect to Trenna had not escaped 
 his notice. A pained smile flitted across her 
 face, in sign that she understood him. 
 
 ' But, nevertheless,' he continued, ' and as 
 you say, whatever happens, nothing will alter 
 my affection and respect for you, Trenna.' 
 
 She hung her head with a little piteous 
 moan that went to the young man's heart. 
 
 ' Good Heavens, Trenna ! Can you con- 
 ceive it possible,' he cried, ' that anything that 
 has occurred lately — I mean concerning this 
 miserable robbery — can affect you ? Whatever 
 decision may be arrived at next week at the 
 Assizes will, at the worst, only prove your 
 father or mine in the wrong. I can under- 
 stand that matters are very unpleasant for you 
 at home. Heaven knows that I would mend 
 them if I could.'
 
 AN appeal: 317 
 
 ' You can withdraw from the prosecution.' 
 
 For the moment it here struck Frank 
 Meade that she looked, or rather spoke, like 
 her father's child. The same short swift 
 retort ; the seizure on the salient point ; and 
 the practical object pressed with more oppor- 
 tuneness than delicacy, brought the keen 
 attorney to his mind in spite of himself. 
 
 ' Surely not with honour, Trenna,' he an- 
 swered gently, * nor even with justice ? ' 
 
 ' You talk like a book, Frank, and not like 
 a man. Everything in this world, whatever it 
 may be in the next, is a matter of comparison, 
 nor is it the question, How much good shall 
 we do by this or that course of action? 
 but, How httle evil.^ Is it wise to benefit 
 one fellow-creature if by so doing we entail 
 unliappiness on half a dozen others, or ruin 
 on one other ? '
 
 31 8 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 'My dear Trenna/ lie answered, smiling, 
 ' you are pleading against yourself. It is only 
 poor Abel who in this case is threatened with 
 ruin. On your side — that is, Mr. Garston's — 
 the worst that can happen is defeat and annoy- 
 ance. If your father will apologise and offer 
 some compensation, perhaps even at this 
 eleventh hour this unpleasant matter can 
 be arranged. Come — here we are at your 
 journey's end — let us have to-morrow some 
 message of peace from the Grey House ; and 
 I will do my best — my very best — to carry 
 out your wishes.' 
 
 They were standing on the hilltop above 
 Mogadion. Immediately below them was her 
 father's house ; they could see the attorney 
 walking on his lawn with head depressed and 
 his hands behind him. 
 
 * And that's all you can do for me .^ '
 
 AN APPEAL. 319 
 
 ' Do not say that, Trenna ; for there is 
 nothing I would not do for you.' 
 
 She sighed and held out her hand. ' I will 
 not trouble you to go any farther — nay, I had 
 rather not. Here our ways part.' 
 
 She only spoke the literal truth, for the 
 road at this point forked ; but her tone seemed 
 to give her words a deeper meaning. 
 
 ' You are not angry wdth me, Trenna ? ' 
 'Xo ; I am not angry. Good-bye.' 
 The tone in which she spoke was again 
 significant, and seemed to breathe a longer fare- 
 well than her words imphed. And so they 
 parted : Frank to walk slowly to the Dovecote, 
 turning over in his mind what he should say 
 to his father to induce him to meet the attor- 
 ney half-way ; for the Doctor was very bitter 
 against him. 'Since the man wants law he 
 shall have it,' he had said, with an expletive
 
 320 KIT : A MEMORY, 
 
 such as he rarely used ; but which, when he 
 did use it, meant something. It seemed to 
 Frank that, unless overtures should first be 
 made from the enemy's camp, there was no 
 hope of peace. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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