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 http://www.archive.org/details/littledale01seja
 
 LITTLEDALE
 
 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 By SEJANUS 
 
 IN TEHEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 TINSLET BROTHEES, 8, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. 
 
 18/8. 
 
 (All rights reserved.)
 
 V, 1. 
 
 Co 
 
 In 
 
 LITTLEDALE 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 LiTTLEDALE is a Small town. No bustling railway 
 has ever invaded its quiet precincts; no coach 
 pulls up or ever pulled up at the principal inn. 
 If you wanted to leave in a genteel manner, you 
 could post; if in an economical manner, various 
 carriers of various degrees of style ran in all 
 directions, or you could take a fly to the nearest 
 railway station, about six miles' distance. 
 
 The legendary history of Littledale ran back so 
 far and got so confused that no two inhabitants 
 told it alike. It had never produced any great 
 man except once, and he had proposed to pull 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 clown the centre row of bouses and make the town 
 one wide street. The improvement was carried 
 out. He died shortly afterwards, and, being 
 deposited in the churchyard with a handsome 
 monument, was much respected. " Whom the 
 gods love die young." John Smith did not live 
 long enough to blight his fame by either going 
 away (an unpardonable offence in the provincial 
 mind) or any other thing out of the common, in 
 which particular he was fortunate. *' The hero of 
 Saratoga may become Benedict Arnold the traitor." 
 
 The wide street remained; but the houses 
 pulled down were built in other places. At the top 
 of the town various edifices sprang up, inhabited 
 by the elite, and at the bottom two little streets 
 appeared in opposite directions', giving the idea of 
 a T upside down. 
 
 John Smith had a son who, being without the 
 wide and comprehensive genius of his father, 
 turned his attention to selling groceries, and made 
 money. His customers were numerous, but their 
 respective pm^chases were small ; nevertheless 
 Tobias throve. In those days there were no in- 
 spectors of weights and measures. Tobias had a
 
 LITTLEDALE. S 
 
 son, whom lie named Joshua, and made a gentle- 
 man or lawyer of him. Joshua, on the death of 
 his father, sold the grocery business, pulled out the 
 shop, put a private front to his house, painted the 
 front door a bright and lively green, and mounted 
 an immaculate brass i^late — " J. Smith, Solicitor." 
 Business came in ; the other lawyer died, and 
 J. Smith had all the legal business to be got in 
 the i)lace. In due time Joshua married, and 
 christened his first-born Harold, whom he fondly 
 hoped would carry the fame of the family beyond 
 Littledale. But, unfortunately for human con- 
 trivance, Harold disliked the law, disliked work, 
 and most of all disliked the office. 
 
 Harold kept dogs; and one of them on a day 
 in August was rolling in the street before the green 
 door, and even raised such a dust as to hide 
 for a moment the glories of the brass plate. Still 
 Turk kept on rolling, until another dog, eager to 
 join in the game, approached and began to roll 
 too. If "familiarity breeds contempt," contemi)t 
 in turn breeds shortness of temper. Turk was 
 aroused ; he felt an intruder near ; served process — 
 "injunction of teeth." Strange dog gave notice
 
 4 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 of appeal with a deep growl. Turk held to the 
 original raotion. Strange dog was about to do so, 
 when a stick decided. Both dogs looked up and saw 
 a pair of eyes that told them of selfish indifference 
 to the pain of others. Dogs are good physiogno- 
 mists : Turk and his antagonist separated. The 
 owner of the stick was a man about forty-five, 
 di'essed with a certain assumption of rank, but 
 the ruffled condition of the clothes, dirty neck- 
 cloth, and dissipated appearance gave anything 
 but a favourable impression. The heavy eyes 
 were bloodshot and dull under the hanging eye- 
 brows ; the coarse, sensual mouth and pimpled 
 nose completed a face that bore the unmis- 
 takable stamp of sensuality and vice. With a 
 certain air of determination he rang the bell 
 labelled "Office." The door was opened by a 
 youth, apparently about nineteen, whose face pre- 
 sented a perfect contrast to that of his master's 
 client. The latter inquired, in a voice both thick 
 and indistinct — 
 
 " Governor in, hey, Jones ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Maunder, he is. Shall I tell him 
 you want him ? "
 
 LITTLEDALE. ^ O 
 
 "Wisit else do 3'ou think I come for ? Tell him 
 to look shai'iD, I can't wait." 
 
 An expression of contempt passed over the face 
 of the clerk, but instantly vanished as, handing the 
 visitor a seat, he vrent into the inner office, fi-om 
 which he soon retm-ned and ushered in his master's 
 client with apparently profound respect. 
 
 The door of the inner office shut, and Maurice 
 Jones was left alone. He heard a second door 
 fasten, which he knew meant *' business." In an 
 instant he was off his stool, had fastened the door 
 leading to the passage, removed one of the files of 
 papers hanging against the wall, taken a paper 
 tube out of his desk and applied it to the wall in a 
 part where a hole bored nearly through rendered 
 every word audible to the unsuspected listener. 
 As he stood and listened, the descending sun 
 poured a flood of Hght through the half skyhght, 
 half window, at the side of the room. A halo of 
 golden glory fell on the stool and desk, littered 
 with the usual residuum of a lawyer's office, and 
 as it fell on the crouchuag figure against the wall, 
 it brought out more distinctly the expression of 
 fixed resolve so unusual in a face so young, a
 
 6 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 very ominous want of height in the forehead, but a 
 head of splendid development in other parts ; and 
 as he patiently waited, losing not a single word, 
 the quivering nostrils were the only part that gave 
 token of life in the silent figm-e against the wall of 
 the office. 
 
 His clothes anything but new ; boots that were 
 certainly weather-tight, but patched and mended ; 
 his limp and browned hat, hanging on a peg, 
 would have raised a curious question in the mind 
 of any spectator as to how long it would be ere the 
 determined will and intellect would carry the pos- 
 sessor beyond the position he was apparently 
 doomed to for life. 
 
 The lawyer's inner chamber was garnished with 
 tin boxes, bearing the names of various clients ; 
 a writing-table in the centre of the room ; a lamp 
 on the mantelpiece ; two or three almanacks of 
 various fire and life offices. Three very uncomfort- 
 able wooden chairs for clients and a very comfort- 
 able padded one for his own use, and the inventory 
 of the contents of the room was complete, with 
 the exception of the owner, who, having asked 
 Mr. Maunder to take a seat, waited for him to 
 commence the conversation.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 7 
 
 / 
 The lawyer was about the same age as his 
 
 visitor, but looked good for at least twenty years 
 
 longer life. At forty-five the hand of time had but 
 
 lightly touched his fi*ame, except to toughen- it. 
 
 His hair was scant on the top of the head, but 
 
 the full bushy whiskers and close-shaven black 
 
 chin were untouched by even a suspicion of silver 
 
 threads ; a pair of restless grey eyes, straight 
 
 straggling eyebrows, a well-proportioned nose, and 
 
 rather small mouth gave the appearance of craft 
 
 rather than talent. 
 
 "Well, squire," inquired Joshua, "what brings 
 you here?" 
 
 " Money ! " said his visitor, curtly. 
 
 " Well, you can't have much more. The seven 
 outlying farms are all sold, and you have had the 
 cash ; the Grange is mortgaged beyond its value, 
 and were it not that some of the orchards are still 
 unmortgaged, my chent would not hold off from 
 foreclosing. Shall I get you down the deeds ? " 
 
 " No ; what I want is money. As for your 
 client, I know where he is," and Maunder signifi- 
 cantly pointed over his shoulder towards a large 
 chest containing the securities that were the private 
 property of the lawyer.
 
 O LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Joshua Smith tried to look hurt, but finding it 
 did no good, assumed a friendly, not to say jocular, 
 strain. 
 
 '' I don't deny that I may have advanced the 
 money myself, but it was for the sake of friend- 
 ship. I have advanced more than any one else 
 would, and have been more lenient in the matter 
 of interest not paid up ; but I have to tell you 
 clearly and decidedly, once for all — you have run 
 your tether. There is nothing more, that I know 
 of, which 3^ou can sell, mortgage, or pawn." 
 
 " I didn't come to hear all this," said his 
 visitor, impatiently. ''Money I must have, and I 
 don't intend to go without it ; if I do I shall seek 
 another lawyer." 
 
 Joshua didn't like the sound of this at all ; for, 
 not to mention one or two errors of detail, the 
 farms had all been sold considerably under their 
 worth, and reprobate as he knew Maunder to be, 
 there was just one good point left. He entered 
 with great care and exactness all money received, 
 the production of which account would much bother 
 Joshua if in the hands of a clever antagonist. 
 After a long and stormy altercation, composed of a
 
 LITTLEDALE. ^ 9 
 
 great many cui'ses on one side and lies on the 
 other, James Maunder, Esq., as he loved to be 
 addressed, executed a deed of entire surrender, 
 for five hundred pounds down, of all his landed 
 and house j)roperty (everything else had gone 
 before) in favour of Joshua Smith. The clerk 
 was despatched to get a couple of witnesses, and 
 quickly returned with two neighbours, who, living 
 in houses belonging to Joshua, were allowed a 
 consideration off the rent every year, as they were 
 obHgingly deaf and blind to all except theii' own 
 signatui-es. The deed was on the table and all 
 ready. 
 
 "You will please to sign here 'James Maunder' 
 in full," said Joshua. His client looked up, and 
 with a faint show of bravado threw down the pen 
 with a most magnificent an*. 
 
 *' I have altered my mind," he said. 
 
 Just then Joshua shifted the deed; the far 
 comer touched a bag that in tui'n gave forth a 
 pleasant sound of chinking sovereigns. What the 
 eye of the snake is to the fascinated bird, so was 
 the sound to the ears of Maunder. Snatching up 
 the pen, he signed his name, clutched at the bag 
 given him, and strode out.
 
 10 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 The ^vitnesses departed. Smith and his clerk 
 Tvere left alone. 
 
 " You will go to-morrow to the Grange, and tell 
 Mrs. Parlvhoiise she had better look out for another 
 residence, and take her personal effects. Mind, I 
 am not going to let her any of my houses, either 
 as agent or principal." 
 
 *' Yes, sir." 
 
 " And as for the child " He stopped. 
 
 We are all human in some way, and though a 
 man may persuade himself he is above the weak- 
 ness, the mind plays cm'ious tricks with even the 
 most hard-hearted. A vision floated be^re the 
 eyes of Joshua of a fair, beautiful woman and 
 three children, smTOunded by every luxury wealth 
 could purchase, who had years before offered him 
 refreshment when calling at the house on busi- 
 ness, and made him feel in a brighter, purer 
 atmosphere than he had usually known in his 
 tangled career. Eunice Maunder now slept be- 
 neath the churchyard tm-f, but the bright spot on 
 memory's waste made by a good and tender 
 woman still floated like a ray of sunshine on a 
 dark and stagnant pool.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 1/ 
 
 " On second thoughts, I will call mj^self to- 
 morrow. You can go for the night, Jones." 
 
 The town clock struck half-past five as Maurice 
 Jones emerged from his employer's house. 
 
 Maunder had gone straight to the Feathers, 
 the most ostentatious public-house that Littledale 
 sui)ported. The sign was the three Prince of 
 Wales's feathers, and the familiar Ich Dlen, " I 
 serve," beneath — a most approx^riate motto cer- 
 tainly for a house of entertainment. 
 
 For the present it was lighter out of doors 
 than in, but the sun had all but dipped behind 
 the distant hills ; the western sky still glowed 
 with golden clouds that were changing to a living 
 opal as the hours passed on. The lights began 
 to appear at one window after another. The 
 windows of the Feathers were conspicuous by 
 their superior brilliance; the sounds of revehy 
 came on the breeze at intervals. Jones turned 
 quickly down the street till he came to a small 
 house, above the door of which was a sign 
 hardly to be read in the failing light — '^Matthew 
 Elgood, Ladies' and Gentlemen's Boot and Shoe 
 Maker. Eepau'S neatly executed."
 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 The golden rays of the setting sun touched with a 
 burning glory the roofs and houses that looked 
 mere ordinary brickwork in broad daylight, but 
 in the golden glamour of declining day looked fairy 
 palaces, fit for the abode of those wonderful 
 characters described in tales that somehow so 
 seldom appear in real life. 
 
 On the side of a gentle declivity the sun's rays 
 fell with more than usual beauty, gilding the 
 patched and dirty verandah that ran along the 
 front of a red-brick house. In front, and run- 
 ning beyond the house on one side, was a rather 
 extended lawn. A carriage -diive led up to the 
 front door of the mansion, cutting the lawn off 
 fi'om a belt of ornamental trees, which in turn
 
 LITTLEDALE. 13 
 
 prevented the stables, cow-houses, piggeries, 
 etc., being seen from the front entrance. Be- 
 yond, green fields spread their Hving emerald, 
 among which tall trees and variegated hedgerows 
 mingled with fields of corn ready for the sickle or 
 studded with rows of sheaves ready to be carted 
 home. All nature looked glad, happy, and joyful. 
 Two boys and a girl leaned on the railing 
 and looked across the valley, or sometimes cast 
 a glance to the end of the verandah, whence 
 a view of several orchards diversified the corn 
 fields or meadows. The two boys were apparently* 
 the same age ; in reaHty, they were fom-teen 
 and fifteen, but the younger one's more robust 
 frame made them look like twins. James, the 
 elder, was looking over the hedges that bordered the 
 high-road, with wistful anxiety. Eobert, the second, 
 was leaning on his elbows with a discontented 
 expression, rubbing one foot over another to the 
 detriment of his shoes, had they not been so worn 
 that it was almost impossible to deteriorate those 
 articles of attire, gone past everything except dis- 
 location or dissolution. The thii'd in the gi'oup, 
 the gii'l, who was holding with her hands one of
 
 14 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 the verandah posts above her head, and leaning 
 agamst the upraised arm, said — 
 
 *'When will father be home, Kobert ? Do you 
 know?" 
 
 " Can't tell, Clara," said Kobert, whose face and 
 tone alike conveyed the idea of small desire for 
 the parental return. 
 
 '•' I know where he went," said James. '' He 
 went to Lawyer Smith's ; " and as he spoke a dark 
 thundercloud passed over his face. 
 
 " What ! Whenever he goes there he does not 
 come back till late," said his brother. 
 
 Eobert balanced himself on his legs very wide 
 apart, like a drunken person trying to keep his 
 balance. Clara laughed out loud at the imitation, 
 which certainly the childi-en had had plenty of 
 opportunities of seeing in the original. 
 
 " Be quiet, Kobert," said James. " That is not 
 the worst." 
 
 "Well, then," asked Kobert, "what is the 
 worst?" 
 
 James looked to the end of the verandah, where 
 Clara was watching the flight of a moth as it 
 circled above her head. He motioned his brother
 
 LITTLEDALE. 15 
 
 nearer, pointing to Clara with all the superiority 
 assumed over ghis by boys generally. Eobert 
 brought his head near to his brother, and the 
 boyish look went out of his face, which seemed 
 to harden into a set stony stare that it was hard 
 one so young should have to gaze on — the Medusa 
 head of sorrowful despair, as James said — 
 
 " Waxy was here last night, I suppose for his 
 money, but he didn't get it ; but he and Parky sat 
 ever so long talking " ^ 
 
 " Think he's going to marry Parky ? " inter- 
 rupted Eobert. 
 
 ** No. But he told Parky that it couldn't go on 
 much longer ; that Stubbs's farm was sold, and he 
 was afraid the Grange would go next; and then 
 Parky began to cry, and I couldn't help crying too. 
 Think of all the farms being gone at the Feathers ! " 
 
 " How was it they let you hear ? " 
 
 " Oh, I was wi'iting a copy, but I stopped to 
 hearken, and then the copy-book was so wet I 
 couldn't finish it, and so I slipped away." 
 
 Both boys instinctively looked over the land- 
 scape, with wistful yearning in their eyes beyond 
 their years. Think not that childi'en cannot feel
 
 16 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 because the most of their emotions are apparently 
 evanescent. Their feelings are interrupted, not 
 changed. Geologists tell us that the wonderful 
 diversity of hill and dale, the glory of the various 
 charms of earth, had their origin in the upheaval 
 of the various strata when the earth was young ; 
 that once Cornwall joined Brittany, with endless 
 groves and forests of matchless beauty making the 
 earth glad that lay between them, till the salt 
 wave covered them apparently for ever. Never- 
 theless between the rocky coasts still lie the 
 buried forms of beauty, perchance to rise again in 
 the futm-e history of the planet, covered with the 
 weeds and spume of ocean, or as a coal-bed to 
 light up with dusky gleam some Black Country of 
 the future. So the glad feelings of the brothers 
 were on that sad evening buried beneath the salt 
 wave of sorrow, only to reappear in after life 
 covered with the ocean slime of avarice, or to light 
 the fires of ambition. 
 
 Still the declining sun smiled on the green 
 meadows that were thickly studded with the brows- 
 ing kine that ruminated by the banks of the silver 
 streams, lined on each side by a brighter streak of
 
 LITTLEDALE. 17 
 
 emerald green. Higher up, the hills were gii't with 
 a golden belt of waving corn fields ; the tops were 
 bright with the fleecy coats of patient sheep 
 browsing on grass, alternated with patches of 
 puriDle heather, that, hke a crown of pearls and 
 garnets, stood thick on the hill-tops bright in the 
 rays of sunlight. 
 
 As James looked on the land that had passed 
 away from his father's house, he felt a touch on 
 his shoulder. Slightly turning, he saw his 
 brother's face close to his. The hands of the two 
 clasped with instinctive sympathy ; not a word was 
 spoken by either, but they understood one another 
 in the quiet evening. Their faces fixed on the 
 land once theirs, but alienated by drunkenness and 
 debauchery ; heart spake to heart. No great 
 sentiment can be perfectly given by the tongue to 
 the ear. Words are but counters, the coins of 
 intellectual exchange, which resemble no more the 
 thing meant than the coin resembles what it 
 purchases. The same word drops from the lips of 
 the deceitful and the true, it may be the one to 
 be believed, and the other to be doubted; but 
 when heart speaks to heart in silence, often a more 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 durable bond of union is knit than the loudest 
 protestations and most eloquent appeals can ever 
 effect. Often a bond is forged in solemn silence 
 that death in vain may try to sever or weaken. 
 Often the proudest efforts of studied eloquence are 
 but as " tinkling brass " compared with the golden 
 link that silence may rivet in the soul. Clara 
 turned on her heel and went into the house. 
 The shadows of the evening were creeping on ; 
 still the boys remained in the verandah, motionless, 
 and still none the less wide awake. The clock 
 in the church tower struck again and again ; hour 
 after horn- crept on as the silver moon sailed across 
 the clear blue sky, when James said — 
 
 " Eobert, let's go in ; I hear Parky on the look- 
 out for us." 
 
 " Eight you are, Jimmy." 
 
 ** But, I say, don't tell her what I told you." 
 
 "Not if I knows it." 
 
 " Master James ! Master Eobert ! " said a rather 
 thin voice, " where are you ? " 
 
 "Coming, nurse, coming," said both at once; 
 and, apparently forgetting then- late deep feeling, 
 they scampered in to supper.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 19 
 
 It was not a plentiful meal by any means ; and 
 the one poor candle, that hardly gave a better light 
 than the moon, seemed to make darkness visible. 
 
 Parky, whose real name was Parkliouse, sat 
 unusually quiet at the top of the table, dealing 
 out pieces of bread and cheese with strict impar- 
 tiality to the three claimants that sat round. The 
 kitchen was a comfortable square apartment, with 
 hooks on the ceiling, at one time loaded with hams, 
 tongues, and bacon, now empty. The dirty marks 
 on the walls told of neglect ; the broken plaster 
 told of decay; the mutilated set of dinner ware, 
 the odd numbers of different sorts of glasses on the 
 dresser, all told the same story of decay and 
 poverty. Jugs guiltless of handle or spout, except 
 in one or two instances, gave the same idea. 
 Nevertheless the fireplace was clean, and a little 
 fire cheerfully sparkled in its depths ; but the 
 sparing way the fuel was evidently doled out, gave 
 even that a dismal appearance. On the mantel- 
 shelf shone brightly four brass candlesticks and 
 various brazen ornaments, which seemed to be the 
 one whole spar left in the wreck. 
 
 Mrs. Parkhouse, in her clean cap, sat upright ;
 
 20 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 SO neat and so starched, she looked like the genius 
 of order come to arrange the scattered fragments 
 in proper position. 
 
 James sat next her, with his sister between him 
 and Eobert. As the immediate cravings of hunger 
 were appeased, a small cup of cider was handed 
 to each, which they drank, and having signified 
 that for the present their bread and cheese would 
 not suffer fm'ther diminution, the chikben rose 
 from their chairs and sat in the settle at the side 
 of the fire. Clara, who was thirteen, gradually 
 leaned her head against the end of their seat and 
 fell asleep. James looked in the few bright places 
 in the bit of fire, and saw all sorts of bright fortune 
 for himself, Eobert, and Clara — all the land bought 
 back, carriages such as he remembered but more 
 splendid, fine horses, palaces ; and finally every- 
 thing was lost in a vague sense of comfort and 
 rest. The last thing he could recollect was a view 
 of himself, a little taller, arrayed as a fine gentle- 
 man, taking Clara to court covered with silks and 
 jewels. 
 
 Eobert also looked in the fire, and thought of the 
 hole he was going to bait with grains in the little
 
 LITTLEDALE. 21 
 
 stream that ran past the town ; and as he looked 
 in the fire a fish of fabulous size ap^Deared to him 
 to come up on the end of his rod, but when he 
 brought him to land the stomach seemed very big ; 
 and when the fish opened its mouth Lawyer Smith 
 walked out, saying it was very cold in the fish's 
 belly, and had it not been for a precedent, Jonah 
 to wit, he would never have ventm-ed in the matter ; 
 and Eobert remembered no more. 
 
 Jane Parkhouse was the only one awake, and 
 she also saw dreams in the fire that, instead of the 
 future, showed the past. She saw a girl in a clean 
 cotton dress make her curtsy before a young lady 
 of resplendent beauty, and when she found courage 
 to look up, a pair of soft grey eyes seemed to 
 invite love and devotion. One of the flames shot 
 up a little, and she saw a wedding party leave 
 Littledale Chm-ch (the young lady had married 
 Squire Maunder, the great man of the neighbour- 
 hood) ; the old Grange, not deserted, but resound- 
 ing with cheerful sound of human voices ; two 
 little toddling figures tumbled over the lawn in 
 front, and then a third baby was brought to the 
 window to look at her brothers. But a great
 
 22 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 silence came over the old house, as the gentle 
 mistress was lying ill. One doctor said it was 
 one disease with a good long Latin name, and 
 another said it was another. But Jane knew it 
 was a very old-fashioned complaint that was carry- 
 ing off the brightest flower from the stem — a 
 broken heart ; neglect ; and, worse than this, her 
 husband's visits to London, whence he always 
 retm*ned peevish and irritable, and on the shghtest 
 whim returned again for another long absence, till 
 one day a letter directed to her husband was acci- 
 dentally opened by his wife, which told her the 
 London establishment was not without a lady to 
 take the head of the table. The room seemed to 
 shine very cold now, as the fire bm-nt low, and Jane 
 saw a funeral train move out of the front floor. 
 *' Dust to dust, ashes to ashes ; " but before the 
 last act had been played out, she saw a loved 
 mistress leave the worse than orphans to her care 
 and kindness, and through the long years that 
 intervened her walk day by day had been the bear- 
 ing of burdens almost too heavy to be borne. The 
 drunken orgies and filthy surroundings had passed 
 by without soiling her soul ; the great and perfect
 
 LITTLEDALE. 23 
 
 bond of love between her and the dead had kept 
 her true to her trust, like the spices of Araby the 
 Blest that preserved the loved form sweet and 
 changeless on the banks of old Nile beneath the 
 eternal Pyramids. 
 
 It was almost dark, the fire had nearly gone 
 out, and she saw the splendid fm-niture swept 
 away room by room, to pay for some drunken 
 folly. She saw scarcity enter the household, while 
 the master revelled with boon companions. The 
 fire sunk down in total darkness ; the candle had 
 gone out; everything seemed dull, silent, cold, 
 and dreary; and the stillness of the night, the 
 regular breathing of her charges, all disposed Jane 
 to sleep, when a loud knock aroused all four to 
 the extreme of wakefulness. Again it was repeated. 
 No fear of robbers ; the house was too well known 
 to be empty. Again and again was the wild 
 summons repeated. Jane Parkhouse cried out, in 
 terror of she knew not what, " Who's there ? " 
 
 "Me! Let me in ; I want to see Mrs. Park- 
 house." 
 
 '' Who are you ? " 
 
 " I am Harold Smith."
 
 24 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 When Mrs. Parkhouse opened the front door, 
 she saw Harold Smith looking very white and 
 haggard, as with his hand he motioned to her to 
 come nearer. She thought he had been drinking. 
 So he had, but he was sober now, as he asked in 
 a thick, husky voice — 
 
 " What time did Mr. Maunder come home ? " 
 
 " He is not home yet, sir." 
 
 "My God!" said Harold, "then it was not a 
 dream ! " 
 
 " What did you say was not a di'eam ? " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing," said Harold ; and as he 
 turned with a shudder to go, the village clock 
 struck one. 
 
 Mrs. Parkhouse was left vainly looking out into 
 the night, with three forms crowding round her, as 
 a dog began to howl and rattle his chain in the 
 rear of the premises.
 
 m^sS'SM^^ 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 The Feathers blazed Tvith light, putting out of 
 countenance the feeble glimmer of private houses 
 that twinkled in the gloaming with feeble radiance. 
 John Tyack sat at the head of the table, sur- 
 rounded by the various frequenters. In Littledale 
 the whole male population used some public or 
 other. In the bar-parlour, politics, local matters, 
 and town news were discussed. There was, of 
 course, the acknowledged wit, whose pleasantries 
 consisted, for the most part, of sundry well- 
 seasoned jokes that, Hke wine, increased in worth 
 and mellowness with age. In an age of penny 
 papers, telegrams, and kindred inventions, we can 
 only form a dim idea of what the bar-parlour was 
 to our ancestors. Only in the dim recesses of some 
 village far from the line of traffic is the old bar-
 
 26 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 parlour to be seen, and then only in a fossil state, 
 frequented by three or four old men who have been 
 accustomed to it all their lives, and cannoii "make 
 fresh tracks " so late in the day. 
 
 There are two classes of men, the most visionary 
 of any and yet the most practical, who do so much 
 to improve the condition of everyday life, and yet 
 never look at it. The first are those who look 
 back to what never happened, and the- others look 
 forward to what never can happen. The one looks 
 back to the parlour of the village inn, painted in 
 the bright and lovely colours of distant fancy; 
 the other looks forward to a time when men shall 
 no more seek enjoyment or benefit fi'om the use of 
 stimulants of any kind than they will settle down 
 of an evening to a light and instructive treatise on 
 the third toe of a fossil megatherium recently dug 
 up in Timbuctoo. The amelioration that has been 
 wrought is wonderful, but not all to the good, as 
 the farmer no longer marches at the head of his 
 men to be first in cutting the corn ; the labom-er no 
 longer sits at his master's fire. No longer is he 
 considered one of the family, no longer does his 
 employer share his griefs and sorrows, and the
 
 LITTLEDALE. 27 
 
 farmer moves from one farm to another when 
 he sees an opportunity of apparently benefiting 
 himself. No longer, or very seldom, do father, son, 
 and son's son cultivate the same land. But, on the 
 other hand, the labourer's children have very likely 
 become farmers on then- own account in the 
 colonies, if they are industrious. The reaping 
 machine, superintended by an intelligent mechanic, 
 at high wages, makes one day do instead of six. 
 True, the mechanic shares not the home of his 
 employer ; there is less blind deference to rank 
 and more to intellect ; and the mechanic in his 
 comfortable cottage, surrounded by his children 
 growing up around him, is more likely to be re- 
 spected, because respecting himself, than the hind 
 in his master's kitchen. It is very likely that, 
 mounted on his comfortable reaper, with the 
 pleasant sound of the full sheaves falling behind 
 in regular order, he may lift up his heart in thank- 
 fulness to the Lord of all, who has blessed the 
 earth in giving fruitful seasons — very much more 
 likely than when wearily sweating under a back- 
 breaking sickle. Life, like fermenting wine, has 
 the yeasty, unconsidered theories of every age upon
 
 28 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 the surface of its society ; the lees are left as it is 
 changed from one cask to another ; and as we look 
 back through the corridors of time, the dregs are 
 left behind, most likely with heaps of yeasty froth 
 on their tops. Some can only see the dregs ; some 
 can see only the froth that, glittering with prismatic 
 rays, casts a fictitious glamour on the distant 
 prospect of past centuries that, like a row of empty 
 casks, have had the bubbling life poured from 
 them. It is useless to try and bring back what is 
 past; we cannot fill again the empty casks that 
 dwell in the shadows of the past, nor can we tell 
 the shape or fashion of the cask that will hold the 
 sparkling life of a future age. 
 
 In the bar-parlour all was mirth and cheerful- 
 ness, as the landlord sat giving his sage ideas, or 
 some skilled politician prognosticated the diagnosis 
 of some coming event, oblivious of the fact that 
 the newspaper he had seen it in three months 
 before was then six months old, and that time had 
 drawn up the curtain on the play, very probably 
 let it down and cleared the stage for the next piece 
 long ago. What throne can compare to the seat 
 of the landlord in the dim past ? He was all but
 
 LITTLEDALE. 29 
 
 despotic, "with few exceptions, and one of these 
 occurred when he was wanted. His wife came and 
 whispered in his ear that Mr. Maunder wanted a 
 private room. The face of John clouded ; he had 
 a long score he would fain see settled, but he had 
 never pressed for it, knowing as he did the state of 
 things at the Grange, and dimly conscious that a 
 great deal of money had been got rid of at the 
 Feathers. He bustled out into the bar proper, and 
 as he turned the corner he saw the bottom of a glass 
 rising in the an- rapidly, as the person drinking 
 exhausted the contents. It soon came down, and 
 Maunder, in a voice somewhat cleared by the 
 liquor, said — 
 
 " Well, John, let me have my account ; I will 
 pay it at once." 
 
 "Very well, sir; I can show it to you in my 
 book, and can send you the details to-morrow." 
 
 ''Then let me see it." 
 
 The account-book was produced, and the 
 columns added up by Mrs. Tyack. John always 
 left the accounts to his better half, who certainly 
 made them up. But then, as she argued to herself, 
 when people wanted to make "beasts" of them-
 
 30 LTTTLEDALE. 
 
 selves, the more it cost the less frequently were 
 they likely to repeat the amusement, and being 
 a clever woman of business in a general way, she 
 soon made the discovery that a very drunken 
 customer is one of the licensed victualler's worst 
 enemies; he frightens those who might be in- 
 clined to drop in, and enforces extreme modera- 
 tion on all beholders with a voice that speaks 
 to the common sense of all. With a voice like 
 a trumpet, clear, loud, and unmistakable, Mrs. 
 Tyack added up column after column, and 
 having entered the total at the side of the book, 
 to save time when the bill was asked for next, 
 said, with a bland smile — 
 
 " Ninety-two pounds, three shillings, and four- 
 pence." 
 
 Maunder was surprised. We are all surprised 
 when the bill is presented for past pleasures, and 
 tavern bills have been from time immemorial the 
 standard example par excellence. So, with a lofty 
 frown, he counted out ninety-three pounds ; and 
 bidding the hostess keep the change, he walked 
 with his old swagger into the private room pre- 
 pared for him, followed by four kindred spirits
 
 LITTLEDALE. 31 
 
 he had picked up as he came along. They had 
 been mclined to resent his secession from their 
 company, but had been graciously pleased to for- 
 give him when he jDromised to stand treat as he 
 was wont to do. 
 
 In the pages of the novelist, characters are 
 represented as nursing revenge for past real or 
 fancied slights, and brooding over them ; but in 
 real hfe, such a life-long absorption in one idea 
 would end in a madhouse. Nevertheless, there is 
 quite a respectable lot of spite in the world that 
 people can wi'eak as they tranquilly pursue their 
 way in life. Mrs. Tyack had been a very pretty ghl, 
 and had looked at one time to be ]\Irs. Maunder. 
 She became, instead, Mrs. Tyack. Would she 
 poison Maunder, or use cold steel ? Certainly not ; 
 but she would put a bowl of jDUJich down as two, 
 and so take a very profitable, if quiet, revenge. As 
 money comes in the knife goes out. Do not twelve 
 good and true men ever and anon reward an 
 injured husband for the loss of his wife with a 
 sum of money about equal to six months' income, 
 for his zeal in recording his own shame on oath ? 
 The bell of the private room rang. '' A bowl
 
 32 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 of punch, a bottle of brandy, and look sharp ! " 
 said the entertainer. 
 
 John went out to give the necessary orders, and 
 busied himself with procuring the ingredients ; and 
 as the spirit dropped into the steaming compound, 
 John paused and hesitated. But the recollection 
 of a certain coarse assumption of superiority 
 Maunder always assumed passed through his mind. 
 The doubt was gone as quickly as the light summer 
 cloud passes across the face of the bright noonday 
 sun. The last drop of liquor descended ; the bowl 
 was taken in with the bottle of fiery spiiit. 
 
 "Lock the door," said Maunder to one of his 
 companions, who, winking to another, complied. 
 
 Cards were then produced, and gold and silver 
 began to cover the table. Noisy exclamations of 
 joy or execration followed one another with great 
 rapidity, as game after game succeeded one an- 
 other, till, having sat some hours, the leader of 
 the human sponges, Isaac Compton by name, 
 apparently blind with rage at small losses, said — 
 
 " Nothing less will I play for than one hundred 
 down ! " 
 
 The heap of money at Maunder's right hand 
 had increased.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 33 
 
 " Eight ! " said he. " I will play you, Isaac." 
 
 The other three declined the higher stakes, and 
 sat watching the players. The first game termi- 
 nated with the defeat of Isaac, who screamed out — 
 
 "Double or quits." 
 
 Maunder, with a look of incipient triumph, 
 agreed. 
 
 Another game gave success to Isaac. Again 
 the cards were shuffled and cut. Again Isaac 
 won. The liquor and lust of gain made the head 
 of Maunder throb with painful force ; his heart 
 beat with wild pulsations that, if reckoned by his 
 feelings, seemed as if to bm^st his breast. Thrice 
 more the cards were dealt, shuffled, and cut. 
 Each game Isaac was a winner. 
 
 A fourth game was now begun ; and as Maunder 
 raised the cup of liquor to his feverish mouth and 
 burning lips, his eyes apparently fixed on the 
 vanishing liquid but really watching his adversary, 
 an admirably simulated hickup completing the 
 illusion, a card dropped from Isaac's sleeve and 
 was quietly transferred to his heap, while one of 
 the dealt cards was dexterously shot beneath the 
 table. Again and again was the trick repeated. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Maunder rang the bell. 
 
 *' I want more liquor. Unlock the door." 
 
 Isaac shifted uneasily. 
 
 Maunder, apparently half drunk, said, ''Do as 
 I tell you." 
 
 John Tyack entered. 
 
 " Look under the table ; that scoundrel has 
 been cheating," said the entertainer of the evening, 
 pointing at Isaac. 
 
 John looked, and sure enough underneath were 
 little heaps of cards, which on investigation proved 
 to be all of small value, while the sleeve of Isaac 
 showed quite a corps de reserve of kings, queens, 
 and aces. 
 
 '' Turn him out ! " said John Tyack. 
 
 " No ; let me kick him out, so that he shall 
 know what it is to play with gentlemen." 
 
 The other confederates in the room until now 
 had been doubtful which side to esj)ouse, but the 
 word ''gentlemen" settled the question. 
 
 Maunder, rushing across the room, cheered by 
 sympathetic murmurs, clutched Isaac by the collar. 
 A struggle in the passage followed ; Isaac twisted 
 and turned like an eel. The strength of Maunder
 
 LITTLEDALE. 35 
 
 was, however, ai^parentlY successful, as eventually, 
 when shot into the street, Isaac ran with surprising 
 swiftness in the direction of the mill that lay at 
 the lower end of the town. Maunder walked into 
 the house a victorious hero, in his own behef. 
 Proudly stepping into the parlour, he recapitulated 
 the events of the evening with becoming pride. 
 
 "And now, gentlemen," said he, " allow 
 me " 
 
 What he intended to say no one knew for certain. 
 A wild expression of dismay, fear, and then hate 
 crossed his face. He saw it all. Isaac had in the 
 struggle stolen the bag of gold from the cajDacious 
 pocket of his coat and made off. The triumph 
 was a fancied one, after all ; the cheat had se- 
 cured his prize. Wildly calling on the name of his 
 late antagonist. Maunder rushed out of the house 
 and down the street. He was not so drunk but he 
 perfectly knew the du-ection taken by the thief. 
 The empty streets echoed to his flying footsteps. 
 
 The company at the Feathers were not a wit 
 disconcerted. The excitement caused quite a run 
 on the malt liquor. Mr. Price, the auctioneer, said 
 " he never knowed such a start in his life."
 
 36 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Harold Smith, who always expected his friends 
 to believe the polite fiction that his tremendous 
 exertions in his father's office during the day — 
 attendance on the average of two and a half hours 
 — necessitated a little relaxation, was sitting 
 opposite. He remarked, " It was quite a 
 romance." 
 
 Mr. Spears, the pastrycook, whose hand shook 
 in quite a painful manner, especially of a morning, 
 said, " I never believed no fictions, 'cause I never 
 read them ; when I reads, I reads sense," in which 
 case the quantity of sense to be read in Littledale 
 must have been painfully small. 
 
 Harold was not a bad-hearted young fellow, 
 especially when warmed with liquor. He pro- 
 posed an adjournment to see the end ; some said 
 they would accompany him, others preferred to sit 
 
 stm. 
 
 Harold, Price, and Spears walked rapidly down 
 the street towards the mill. All was silent and 
 still. The clocks had long since tolled twelve as, 
 after a vain and desultory search, they came back 
 to the mill, having traversed several fields and 
 by-roads in an unavailing manner. As they stood
 
 LITTLEDALE. 37 
 
 under the shadow of the mill, a top window opened; 
 the head of old Bates, the miller, was protruded, 
 and a cracked, thin voice demanded — 
 
 " Now then, are you throwing sommut else in 
 there again ? I'll hide 'ee, I will." 
 
 A laugh rose from the lips of S^Dears and 
 Price, but with a suddenly sobered face Harold 
 held something aloft in the moonlight. It was a 
 hat. They all recognized it as Maunder's hat. 
 A cry of genuine horror and fear greeted the 
 discovery. 
 
 Old Bates was the least discomposed. He 
 wanted to go back to sleep; so with a fertility 
 of invention quite wonderful on so short a notice, 
 he said — 
 
 ''Dare say squh-e's gone home all right, but 
 lost his hat." 
 
 Harold waited to hear no more, but darted off 
 to the Grange. Spears and Price went home to 
 bed; they had business to attend to on the mor- 
 row, they told one another as they went home. 
 
 The eastern sky blushed with the coming morn- 
 ing. As the sun began to warm the earth with his 
 bright golden beams, the miller got up, dressed,
 
 38 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 and descended to the mill. Before he put the wheel 
 in motion a white face on the water arrested his 
 attention, and with a hook he drew out the hody 
 from the dam. There was the mortal clay that 
 had once been filled with the spirit of James 
 Maunder, but the soul had passed away in the 
 night under the dark shadows of the mill-dam. 
 He had missed his footing in the dark, when trying 
 to cross the little slippery bridge, acrpss which 
 no doubt Isaac had preceded him a short time 
 before. It was the nearest way to the London 
 road. 
 
 Yes, there floated the empty tenement in the 
 mill-dam that yesterday contained an immortal 
 soul. When he had first fallen in, a desire for 
 life caused him to struggle fiercely, dashing aside 
 the water. His head rose above the surface for 
 an instant ; a wild hope of life passed through 
 his brain ; but, sinking again, memory gave 
 a flash that illumined the past. His wasted 
 life rose before him dark and drear; a shud- 
 dering fear for the future succeeded. The sound 
 of rushing waters was in his ears ; a few 
 laboured pulsations, and all was quiet. The sin-
 
 LITTLEDALE. 39 
 
 laden spiiit winged its way ; the bark was launched 
 on the ocean of eternity that laves the shores of 
 time, and unknoT^ii to all, save One, whether to 
 sink beneath its load of sin or be wafted by gales 
 of mercy to the islands of the blest.
 
 % 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^tJ^^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 ^^^ Q 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Harold Smith, with a wild cry, had dashed away 
 from the Grange straight to his house, with the 
 intention of rousing his father, under a vague idea 
 he could do something. His father informed him, 
 on being aroused out of a comfortable sleep at 
 1.30 a.m., that it was no affair of his; that if 
 Harold had not been guzzHng at the Feathers, he 
 would not have been mixed up in it ; that he had 
 better go to bed, unless he chose to go and knock 
 up Jones, who lodged with a shoemaker named 
 Elgood, in the next street. Harold bounded off, 
 leaving his father in a ]pertm-bed state of mind, 
 which quickly passed off as he reflected that now 
 the formal taking possession of land and tenements, 
 etc., that belonged to the deceased could be more 
 expeditiously and quietly performed. He was sorry
 
 LITTLEDALE. 41 
 
 for the children; but, then, it was the law. He 
 had pui'chased the estate, and they must go ; 
 very glad to do something for them, but what that 
 something was he had not determined before a 
 graceful ohbligato on the nasal trumpet proclaimed 
 that Joshua was asleep. 
 
 Maurice Jones, on being aroused, became very 
 wide awake indeed. He descended to the ground 
 floor and knocked at the door of a back room, k 
 voice from within demanded in no very pleasant 
 tone what he wanted; but on being informed his 
 lodger wanted him, a sound as of garments being 
 hastily assumed eventuated in the arrival of a man 
 past middle life, with a bare head, except where a 
 fringe of grizzled hair grew round it, Uke the belt of 
 vegetation that Hes below the snow-covered top of 
 some mountain height ; a rather small but firm 
 mouth, between the parted hps of which two rows 
 of teeth appeared, which insensibly reminded the 
 spectator of the moss-grown stones that surround 
 some village well at the side of the road. The 
 leather apron of his craft hid nearly the whole of 
 his body, except where a pair of sinewy arms, 
 nearly the colour of the leather he worked on, ter-
 
 42 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 minated in a pair of hands of yet deeper shade, 
 wrinkled but spare, with nervous fingers. His 
 bronzed appearance, but intelligent forehead and 
 piercing eyes, gave the idea, so commonly met 
 with, of a man of whom more might apparently 
 have been made. We are constantly forgetting 
 that, when our great Captain shall reward all 
 according to their deserts, it is not the fifes and 
 drums of human nature which make the noise 
 that will be found to have done most in the battle- 
 field; that those who patiently march and fight 
 the good fight through doubt and darkness will 
 stand higher when the sun of love and truth shall 
 have risen above the horizon ; and that when the 
 battle of this life is over, some of the rank and 
 file will stand in the great review as commanders 
 and leaders. Perhaps among the myriad bright 
 and splendid worlds that stud the endless ether, 
 they may lead their Master's forces to fresh 
 victories, or may rule as vicegerents over new and 
 brighter realms of peace and glory. 
 
 The three sat and talked long and earnestly, 
 until the " east was grey," when, by the advice of 
 Matthew Elgood, Harold went home. Mam-ice
 
 LITTLEDALE. 43 
 
 Jones went to have an early bath to make up for 
 the want of sleep. When he returned he found the 
 house empty. Matthew had wended his way with 
 steps that showed no sign of faltering or inde- 
 cision, to the Grange, where he found Jane Park- 
 house in a state of mind bordering on distraction. 
 The children had dropped to sleep on the settle 
 once more ; the ashes of the fire looked cold and 
 grey in the garish morning light. Chanticleer had 
 long since proclaimed the day an accomplished 
 fact ; the dew stood on the fields and hedgerows in 
 diamond drops of glittering radiance. How often 
 does the bruised heart mentally reproach the bright 
 morning for not sympathizing in its sorrow, when 
 Nature is preaching to the misjudging sufferer that 
 the future, and not the past, is the home of the soul ! 
 
 Matthew approached the open door, not feehng 
 certain whether to ring or not, but was reheved 
 to see Mrs. Parkhouse approaching. In ve-plj to 
 her anxious inquiries, he told all he knew with a 
 tact and kindness one would hardly have expected 
 from the rough outside. 
 
 " What can I do ? " said Jane, when the narration 
 was complete.
 
 44 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 " I should light the fire and get some breakfast ; 
 empty stomachs are bad councillors." 
 
 She looked at him, but he had turned away, 
 and bending over the three sleeping forms his 
 lips moved ; but no sound came till near the close, 
 and then the name of " Eunice " softly uttered. 
 With his apron and right hand he removed the 
 traces of emotion that still shook his fi-ame 
 violently. Actuated by a sudden impulse, Jane 
 took his left hand and kissed it with the lowly 
 reverence that a subject may use to her sovereign. 
 He understood the action in the simplicity of a 
 faithful heart. They talked again in low tones, till 
 Eobert, moving in his slumber, aroused his brother 
 and sister, who, waking, rubbed their eyes. Jane 
 busied herself with the tasks of the household. 
 Soon the remains of the last night's supper were 
 either removed or supplemented with the poor 
 adjuncts the house afforded for a scanty breakfast, 
 which was partaken of in comparative silence. 
 James looked at his hat hanging on a nail ; but 
 Matthew, understanding the inquiring glance, said — 
 
 " You will not go to school to-day." 
 
 All three looked at the two silent figures, and
 
 LITTLEDALE. 45 
 
 suddenly a great silence fell on all. The orphans 
 felt there was no further need of explanation — 
 that some great trouble had fallen upon them. 
 The tears rose in Clara's eyes, but the two 
 brothers sat in silence ; they felt the bright and 
 pleasant land of childhood had been left behind 
 them, never more to retm'n; when the doorway 
 was darkened by a fresh arrival. All looked up, 
 and Joshua Smith stepped in with a mixture of 
 haste ana yet hesitation in his gait. 
 
 ** You are out early," said he to Matthew, as 
 if he felt he must say something. 
 
 Matthew did not respond, but looked at the 
 lawyer with no friendly eyes. Joshua understood 
 the glance. Looking in return with a steady, not 
 to say contemptuous, manner at the other — 
 
 " Can I speak to you a minute ? " he said, 
 addressing Jane, '' I should be glad to do so." 
 
 The two went into what was called by courtesy 
 the library. It was littered with various odds and 
 ends. The chairs were mostly encumbered with old 
 spm's, whips, portions of harness, broken straps, etc. 
 An open escritoire was filled with old letters. 
 About six or seven books, mostly odd volumes of
 
 46 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 old romances, some with no covers ; a broken pipe 
 or two ; sundry cups, many with no handles, com- 
 pleted the fm-niture, with the exception of three 
 or four broken chairs, which seemed a proper 
 accompaniment to those that stood upright covered 
 with rubbish. The one vacant standing chair was 
 in front of the escritoire. 
 
 Joshua cleared his throat, and made what was 
 for him a long speech. 
 
 '' You see, Mrs. Parkhouse, Mr. Maunder yester- 
 day called on me and completed the transfer of his 
 property. It was all mortgaged beyond its value 
 before. I don't know what relations there may be ; 
 they had better be communicated with, as the 
 children have nothing, unless indeed Mr. Maunder 
 had a sum of money put by somewhere. If it is 
 in the house, it belongs to me. But I waive that 
 claim : if there is anything found, they shall have 
 it. With regard to yourself, you can remove your 
 private property as soon as convenient after the 
 funeral, which I suppose will take place in a day 
 or two. In any case I wish the house cleared a 
 week after. I have no doubt you think me a hard 
 man and everything wicked, but if I had not
 
 LITTLEDALE. 47 
 
 bought the property some one else would. I gave 
 more than any one else ; it is mine. But if there 
 is the slightest doubt in your mind, I shall be 
 happy to show the receipts and deeds to any 
 respectable member of my profession, or any one 
 you or the relations may think proper. With 
 regard to the personal estate of the deceased, I do 
 not think it will pay even the debts in full ; but I 
 will, if agreeable, take the management and con- 
 duct it in the cheapest possible manner. I shall 
 expect to hear from you in a 'day or two. Good 
 day." And he was gone. 
 
 Jane Parkhouse still stood as if turned to 
 stone ; the truth had been worse than she ever, in 
 her wildest dreams, had thought possible. She 
 had often looked forward to poverty with her 
 charges till things were put right, but never to 
 destitution. A burning weight was on her fore- 
 head, a fever com'sed through her veins, but she 
 seemed incapable of moving. Matthew Elgood 
 heard Joshua Smith depart, and came in ; she saw 
 him, but she could not speak. He, hastily going 
 out, returned with a cup of water in his out- 
 stretched hand. She felt incapable of taking it.
 
 48 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 He held it out ; she, as if in a dream, saw a hand 
 extended to take it. It ap^Deared like her own, she 
 could not tell. The hand dropped the cup, which, 
 breaking on the floor with a crash at her feet, 
 broke the spell, and a flood of tears relieved the 
 pent-up feelings. 
 
 In a few minutes Mrs. Parkhouse recovered 
 herself sufficiently, in fact completely. As the 
 dash of cold water at first chills, but afterwards 
 warms the swimmer, so Jane felt that the whole of 
 her energies must be brought to bear on the 
 present emergency. Various wild schemes passed 
 through her mind as she stood in the littered, 
 dusty, and untidy room. Suddenly a thought 
 flashed across her mind : Why not tell her per- 
 plexities to Matthew, who still stood silent and 
 apparently unobservant of anjrthing ? It took but 
 an instant, but she saw the children now without a 
 protector. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Elgood, what could you advise in 
 the matter ? " 
 
 " I could advise a good deal, but would you 
 take my advice ? It is no use to go and talk of 
 what I teU you, as that would defeat the object."
 
 LITTLEDALE. 49 
 
 Jane Parkhouse's face was sufficient answer, as 
 she looked at the shoemaker. 
 
 " Very well," said he, nodding his head ; '' take 
 a seat. They," pointing in the direction of the 
 kitchen, " are gone to hunt for eggs in the planta- 
 tion. Now, excuse me, have you ever received any 
 wages ? " 
 
 " No," said Jane. **He promised me I should 
 have it in a lump ; but I don't want it." 
 
 ** Don't want it ! Stuff ! You can give it away," 
 said he, with the ghost of a twinkle in his eye. 
 
 Jane comprehended what he meant, which was 
 that, although the ship was wrecked, a few spars 
 might yet be saved. 
 
 They held a long and earnest colloquy, which 
 was followed by Mrs. Parkhouse and Matthew 
 Elgood sitting down and drawing out a very 
 respectable bill for wages, etc. Although it was 
 not once clearly stated, they both understood it 
 was to save some trifle for James, Eobert, and 
 Clara. 
 
 Joshua Smith was sm-prised to receive in the 
 course of the day a bill amounting to £850, wages 
 due to Jane Parkhouse ; and until the claim was 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 settled — so lier note said — she declined to leave 
 the Grange. He quite opened his eyes, but in a 
 minute a crafty expression swept over his face. 
 " I see," he murmured ; " she wants to be bought 
 like the rest." He estimated every one at his 
 own standard, and imagined every one as base as 
 himself. 
 
 Astronomers tell us that portions of the starry 
 ether have not been reached by beams of Hght 
 which shone from this earth at Creation. If, there- 
 fore, we were able on spirit pinions to reach that 
 spot, the sight of this globe would just become 
 visible when light shone over the departing chaos. 
 A few myriad of miles nearer, we should be met 
 by the view of tangled and primaeval forests, in- 
 habited by the loathsome things that crawled or 
 flew over a damp, unwholesome earth, that exhaled 
 a hot and fetid vapoui- in the rays of the bm-ning 
 sun. A few myriad of miles nearer would give the 
 empires of old, when might trampled over right, 
 till they sank beneath the weight of their own cor- 
 ruption. A few myriad of miles nearer still would 
 give Judaea, with its awfully affecting pictures, 
 speaking of hope and love to the down-trodden
 
 LITTLEDALE. 51 
 
 millions of the earth. Joshua could only view the 
 chaos of geological ages. He could not understand 
 the music of love moving the human heart ; his 
 thoughts and ijassions were like the monsters of 
 Ijrimffival creation, that only lived to kill and 
 mutilate the quivering forms that fell into their 
 power. 
 
 To an offer of half, Jane sadly responded, 
 " Seventeen years of faithful service are, I think, 
 worth more," but took the money. 
 
 The Grange was invaded by an army of men 
 under the command of Price, the auctioneer, who 
 pulled and shifted the furniture in all sorts of 
 queer combinations. In ten days' time the rostrum 
 was set up in the large empty dining-room, which 
 rang all day with " Going, going, gone ! " The next 
 day all sorts of vehicles removed the last rehcs, and 
 straw was strewn on the doorstep. The coroner's 
 inquest had brought in a verdict of ''Found 
 drowned" on the body of James Maunder. The 
 evening's festivities that ended in the tragedy had 
 been sifted in vain, and John Tyack threatened 
 with the loss of his license. A bill, hoisted on a 
 shaky board, announced in front of the Grange — 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLiiMUi^i, 
 LIBRARY
 
 O^ LITTLEDALE. 
 
 "This desirable freehold mansion to be let or 
 sold. — AiDplv," etc. 
 
 The Board of Guardians sat as usual on the 
 first Tuesday in the month, Tvhen, after the usual 
 discussion on the price of gi'ain, etc., the question 
 turned up, what to do with James and Robert 
 Maunder, who had not been relegated to " the 
 House." Many of the guardians had dined at the 
 Grange, and a feeling of sorrow, lasting exactly 
 two minutes, had sat in the hearts of several. 
 Every one thought every one else ought to do 
 something. Those who had famihes thought, in 
 justice to their families, they could do nothing ; 
 those who were single thought the same, in justice 
 to themselves. 
 
 Joshua Smith was absent. He was afraid of 
 being asked ; but as he managed the legal business 
 of most of them, and some owed him money, a 
 prudent reserve on expressions of opinion was 
 visible throughout. 
 
 The Eev. Jonas Cartwi'ight suggested a sum 
 should be given to Matthew Elgood, who, he under- 
 stood, had given all three orphans shelter and 
 food. Mr. Inigo Green, tailor and Freethinker,
 
 LITTLEDALE. 53 
 
 opposed, not on the merits of the case, but because 
 he always opposed every motion made by what he 
 called " long-tailed blacks." The discussion waxed 
 loud ; each speaker diverged in a manner that 
 threatened to make it endless ; when the porter 
 hurriedly entered, exclaiming — 
 
 " Gentlemen, Matthew Elgood desires an audi- 
 ence of the Board." 
 
 The clerk drew a heap of returns before him, 
 and tried to sift the wheat from the chaff of 
 formulas, when Matthew entered. 
 
 " You are desii'ed to speak," said Sh' Lawrence 
 Bunkum, baronet and chairman. 
 
 Matthew, in a few words, said, as the estate 
 of the late James Maunder had proved on investi- 
 gation insolvent, he desu-ed to have the two boys 
 James and Eobert Maunder as apprentices, on 
 receipt of the usual fees given and expected with 
 parish apprentices. 
 
 Inigo Green thought a reduction on two would 
 be most proper, which motion was promptly op- 
 posed by Price, the auctioneer. A vote on the sub- 
 ject resulted in the ignominious defeat of Inigo, who 
 wrote a letter to the county paper next week, de-
 
 54 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 manding that the vulgar display of heedless pro- 
 fusion at the Littledale Board of Guardians should 
 be put an end to ; and thence diverged into the 
 private and past history of two or three guardians 
 in particular, finishing up with a spirited denunci- 
 ation of the bloated priest who, sucking the blood 
 of the community, battens on his victim's honest 
 earnings. It did no great harm, however, as it 
 never got farther than the editor's waste-paper 
 basket, and eventually lit the office fire. 
 
 Clara disappeared from the Littledale horizon 
 in company with Mrs. Parkhouse, nobody seemed 
 to inquire where or how. 
 
 James and Eobert w^ere in the com'se of the 
 week bound apprentices to Matthew Elgood, on 
 whom Inigo called at the earliest opportunity, 
 assuring him that with the ten pounds the Board 
 had washed their hands of them enth'ely. Matthew 
 said nothing, but Inigo still thought he had made 
 an impression. To many people the clack of their 
 own tongue is the most deHcious music. If you 
 doubt this, just convince people you hear talking 
 folly of the fact ; they will hate you almost as 
 much as if you had done them a favom*.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 55 
 
 Months passed, and winter was closing in ; the 
 evenings were getting chilly. It was enough to do 
 to keep one's self warm, and so the memory of 
 the past seemed entirely faded. A mound in 
 the churchyard, rapidly becoming covered with 
 grass, was the most permanent mark apparently 
 left of the dead. But what of those that were left 
 in the world to struggle in the stream of life ? 
 Feeling, thought, and imagination all pass or 
 change, and there remains the daily load of work, 
 the tale of bricks that must be completed. Look at 
 creation. The tree and flower grow out of decay ; 
 80 the soul of man is ripened by trial, fallen hopes, 
 and numbed affections. We are what the past has 
 made us. We build the house, but the scaffolding 
 that supports it are the thoughts, feelings, fears, 
 cares, and affections of the years as they roll by ; 
 and when death removes the envelope, the beauty 
 or meanness of the edifice will tell the effect that 
 years have wrought. Yon paltry hut used a 
 scaffolding of the green boughs of pleasure, while 
 another has reared a bright and glorious building, 
 using a heavy cross to support a dome that shall 
 stand among those not made with hands, eternal 
 in the heavens.
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 Five years have rolled awa}^, and Littledale re- 
 mains very much the same. There is but little 
 movement in these quiet towns. Some of the 
 younger blood has xDushed its way into more busy 
 regions, and has either fallen by the wayside or 
 conquered in the strife. 
 
 Matthew Elgood, to the astonishment of all 
 who knew him, seemed to have a new stock of life 
 and spirit shortly after the arrival of his two 
 apprentices. A new window had been put to the 
 parlom-, and quite a disi)lay of boots and shoes had 
 made their appearance, from the coarse field boot 
 of the labourer to the aristocratic spring- side. 
 What the spell could be no one in the town could 
 tell, but every year brought Matthew new customers, 
 and, what is more, he kept them. His work was 
 good ; his word could be depended on.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 57 
 
 A gentleman in black coat and white tie, with a 
 pale face and rather nervous manner, rapped on 
 the counter. Matthew came forward, and inquired 
 what he could do for him; but with a singularly 
 winning smile, the stranger said — 
 
 " I am yom- new vicar." 
 
 A hearty shake of the hand, and the two men 
 were en raijport directly. 
 
 " Come, Matthew, I want yom- assistance. The 
 craft of St. Crispin has always been comprised of 
 a very large number of active brains as well as 
 active fingers. The allotment grounds have at last 
 been completed, and I wish your advice about the 
 applicants." 
 
 •' Well, sir, my idea would be that not the very 
 best nor the very worst men should be taken ; those 
 at the lowest wages should have the first chance." 
 
 " Certainly. I wish the allotments to be an in- 
 ducement to sobriety. The money to repair the 
 fence and make the road has all been promised; 
 but " (feelmg in his pocket) '' I find I have left the 
 list at home. Come to my house this evening, and 
 we can talk the matter over at greater length." 
 
 Matthew promised, and the Eev. Cyrus Clark
 
 58 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 walked away. Six months before, the old vicar, the 
 Eev. Jonas Cartwright, had died. The new vicar 
 had arrived a month before, and in a fortnight had 
 taken a pretty good guess at the wants of Little - 
 dale. He found the bulk of the men, the day's 
 work being done, had no inducement to either 
 remain at home or abstain from the XDublic-house. 
 He knew that reading-rooms were the best remedy, 
 but, until the bucolic mind was educated to it, a vain 
 hope. A Chinese artist would be sorely out of place 
 at the Eoyal Academy; the glorious forms that 
 seem instinct with life on the canvas would be to 
 him a nearly sealed book. So the vicar saw that 
 something else must be thought of, and allotment 
 grounds appeared to him the best thing under the 
 circumstances. A piece of land was soon rented 
 and divided into pieces, and offered at a rent that 
 seemed to the Littledale intellect a thing to be 
 desired. Every one nearly of the class the vicar 
 desired, and many others he did not desh-e, made 
 application for "bits," as they were termed; every 
 one of the subscribers who was in trade expected 
 a piece, and between the lot he was fairly puzzled. 
 Here was John Guy, the ironmonger, who had a
 
 LITTLEDALE. 59 
 
 garden and orchard, and as he had given five shil- 
 Hngs, he expected a full-sized piece. Price, the 
 auctioneer, T^ished a piece that he might let to 
 one of his men, to hold during his (Price's) good 
 pleasure ; the man had recently asked for a rise 
 of a shilling per week, and Price thought it Tvould 
 be a good thing to stave off the idea of an ad- 
 vance in that way. And so on, through the list of 
 subscribers. 
 
 The Eev. Cyrus Clark had drank his tea in his 
 quiet home; the tray was not yet cleared away 
 when Matthew was announced. 
 
 Between the two men, so dissimilar in appear- 
 ance, there seemed a bond that neither could ex- 
 plain, which mentally drew them together. Had 
 they analyzed the feeling, it would most likely 
 have escaped their notice. The most subtle and 
 powerful essences cannot be detected by the most 
 practised operator, not even in the vapour that 
 clouds the bell-glass on the top of the crucible. 
 The bright radiance of a life-long, noble pm-pose 
 raised the aims, brightened the intellect, and en- 
 nobled the thoughts of Matthew Elgood to a degree 
 unsuspected by himself and the world around him,
 
 60 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 and it was only when brought in contact with a 
 noble and educated character that he seemed hold- 
 ing converse with an equal. Greatness of soul 
 knows nothing of the petty distinctions that engage 
 the thoughts of the many. The leading cow in the 
 Swiss iDastures imagines she is the most esteemed 
 in the herd because she bears a tinkling bell 
 around her neck,, but the master of the herd most 
 highly prizes the cow that gives most milk. The 
 cow with the bell may give the least of any. 
 
 The vicar and Matthew having gone through 
 the list of names, Matthew said, *'Sir, I do not 
 see the name of any on the Ust but what a piece of 
 garden will be a great benefit to. The time and 
 money at present wasted in the piibhc-house, I 
 hope, will be so no more." 
 
 The giving of rational pm'suits and amuse- 
 ments is the hope of the present time ; the rude 
 pleasures and drunken festivities of a bygone age 
 were only fit for the warrior who believed in an 
 endless di'unken brawl in the halls of Valhalla. 
 The education of the present day ought to be 
 higher than it is in every way, when we look at 
 the thousand and one channels of improvement.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 61 
 
 The people will never be tliorouglily taught until it 
 is taken up by the State, and as such made com- 
 pulsory. Schools are cheaper than prisons. The 
 great difficulty is this — that each class really, when 
 they talk of equality with any one, mean with 
 those higher than themselves. For those lower 
 in the social scale there is small sympathy by 
 people at large. A few, and only a few, feel for 
 them. Only three hundred of Gideon's host were 
 deemed worthy to rout the wandering Midianites, 
 When we look at what has been left behind — the 
 chains of slavery cast aside ; the ocean, instead of 
 dividing, binding nations as a great highway ; the 
 lightning from heaven carrying the words of one 
 nation to another at the ends of the earth in an 
 instant of time — well may we be proud. But when 
 we see the ploughman, who supplies the loaf, 
 below the intelligence of the man who eats it — the 
 sailor and his vessel a plaything, either to sink or 
 swim as the gain of a distant master dictates — it 
 is humbling that so fair a prospect should show 
 such dark spots. 
 
 ''I am puzzled," said the Eev. C}tus, "that 
 you should be content, with yom- feelings and
 
 62 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 aspirations, to remain in such a qniet place, when 
 in a larger sphere your talents would open a path 
 to fame and position. I do not say riches, as I 
 am sure you would be above such paltry considera- 
 tions as gold for its own sake." 
 
 "Well," said Matthew, *' I had ambition once, 
 but it is gone." 
 
 "No, not gone, only purified. Such a soul as 
 yours could not lose itself in the routine of every- 
 day hfe." 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Matthew. "But I feel I 
 could ask you a great favour. It is not every one 
 I could, but you, sir, seem to feel for all in such a 
 way as I hardly know how to describe." 
 
 " Speak, and if I can assist you in any way I 
 shall be glad and happy to do it." 
 
 " Well, sir, I feel I wish to tell you a story, and 
 when you have heard it you will see, perhaps, 
 what I wish you to undertake for me." 
 
 The vicar motioned with his hand ; he seemed 
 unwilling, by word of mouth, to interrupt the course 
 of Matthew's speech. As he sat in his chair, a 
 little drawn from the table, he seemed like some 
 bright spirit about to receive a high commission of
 
 LITTLEDALE. 63 
 
 mercy and trust. He was about the middle height, 
 with brown hair that curled at the tips, thrown 
 back from his high white forehead ; a pan- of grey 
 eyes that sj)oke of depths of almost womanly 
 tenderness; a nose but little curved from the 
 straight Grecian line ; and a mouth that was 
 covered by two red lips, whose curve in their 
 centre looked hardly determined enough for the 
 intellectual brow above. His hands, with long 
 nervous fingers, were clasped over one knee, which 
 gave him the appearance of being very attentive to 
 what he expected to hear. 
 
 Matthew cleared his throat thrice before he 
 was able to begin. When he did, it was in a hesi- 
 tating and rather feeble voice ; but as he proceeded, 
 the spirit of his narrative made the voice fuller 
 and more audible. But whether sunk or raised, 
 not a syllable was lost by his entranced auditor. 
 . "I was brought up in the village of Sleaforth, 
 fom- miles away from Littledale, until I was seven 
 years old, when my uncle moved into the town. 
 He was a shoemaker like myself; I learnt my 
 trade of him. He never allowed any slackness, 
 and was penurious in the extreme, but a wonderful
 
 64 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 head for money. Nothing ever tempted him to an 
 unsound investment ; nothing he invested in turned 
 out badly ; but the circumscribed size of his field 
 of operations, and the efforts he had to make to 
 get a httle money to begin with, caused him to 
 regard every penny he spent as a waste. He was 
 very great at buying in kind. That is a practice 
 many people have never heard of. A man wanted 
 boots for his family ; my uncle supplied on credit, 
 but took a chest of drawers, perhaps, as security. 
 He charged no interest, because he could not 
 legally do so, but he charged so much a week for 
 warehousing the fm-niture, or whatever the nature 
 of the security might be. Some of his dealings 
 were, I am afraid, even worse. I have seen dresses 
 and ornaments disposed of by wives for boots with- 
 out their husbands' knowledge, and in a day or two 
 the unworn boots would be sold to my uncle as a 
 separate transaction, either to tide over a temporary 
 emergency or to go in liquor. I never spoke to 
 my uncle about the traffic, or he to me ; we were 
 ashamed to own how bad it was. I did not myself 
 ever conduct any bargains, but I hugged myself in 
 secret on the money so acquired. My uncle was
 
 LITTLEDALE. 65 
 
 delighted that, instead of wishing to wander off in 
 pursuits more usual with youth, I stuck to work. 
 Morning, noon, and night, the benches in my 
 uncle's shop rang with the sound of the hammer 
 and lapstone. I was fast sinking into a mere 
 animal, fighting with my fellows for little bits of 
 yellow dirt. I was worse than my uncle, for he 
 saved for me. He never looked forward to enjoy 
 money himself; he wished me to be rich, and 
 consequently, as he supposed, respected. Those who 
 have never known the biting tooth of poverty have 
 no conception of what it is to be really poor. It is 
 not the actual want of bread, but the feeling of 
 inferiority induced by the behaviour of those better 
 off. The contumely that cannot be resented sinks 
 into the heart. I have read that the Crusaders, at 
 the fall of Constantinople, broke up priceless gems 
 of art, bronze statues, the fragments of which are 
 the admkation of succeeding ages, that they might 
 be cast into coins of the lowest denomination. I 
 have often thought that the grinding sense of 
 poverty equally breaks up the beauty of the soul, 
 that it may traffic in the lowest thoughts and 
 basest actions of humanity. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 " I was sinking fast into the most despicable 
 of characters, that of a young man who loves 
 money for its own sake, when I was saved in so 
 wonderful a manner that I have never doubted the 
 goodness of God since, however dark and dismal 
 things may look for the present. Among my 
 uncle's numerous clients was a young man who 
 had every vice but that of open-handedness. His 
 father was dead ; his mother had died years before. 
 He often came to make a time bargain when he 
 wanted shoes, but never succeeded. My uncle 
 knew him to be false at the core. John Penny had 
 cheated and deceived every one else, or nearly so, 
 at one time or another. To the astonishment of 
 all the town, one day John had a new coat of 
 whitewash put on the house he dwelt in ; the dirty 
 interior was cleaned out; fi'esh muslin curtains 
 put in the windows; a few flowers decked the 
 sill. He then left the key with a neighbom-, saying 
 he should be back in a day or two, as he was 
 going to visit his sister. In two days' time he 
 appeared in the dusk with a cart laden with 
 furniture. A female figure sat in fi'ont, and John 
 walked by the shafts. Early the next morning,
 
 LITTLEDALE. 67 
 
 curiosity still being on tiptoe, unusual signs of 
 prosperity appeared at John's cottage. Meat and 
 vegetables, in quantity and quality he had long been 
 a stranger too, groceries, etc., were fetched, bought 
 and paid for. Still no sign appeared, till in the 
 afternoon the carriage of the squire called, and 
 took John and his sister up to the Grange. The 
 squire is dead now, but I can't help thinking it 
 was all his money that furnished John's house. I 
 was interested in the gossip. Uncle always en- 
 couraged me to learn all I could. He always said 
 that when people gossipped they had only time to 
 exaggerate, not invent; that the beginning was 
 always true, but the end always false. With all 
 his faults, my uncle. Bill James, as he was always 
 called, was a clever and close observer of the 
 worst side of human nature. Gossip said the 
 squire was going to marry John's sister, and John 
 was to live at the Grange. 
 
 " I had gone one evening for a walk down the 
 fields opposite, to call on a farmer for an account. 
 My uncle always kept short reckonings ; he said if 
 the boots were. worn out people paid because they 
 could not help themselves, but thought it a robbery,
 
 6S . LITTLEDALE. 
 
 but while wearing them the mone}^ was easier got. 
 
 I retui'ned b}' way of the niiU. It was a glorious 
 
 evening ; the sun sank in the west shrouded in 
 
 clouds of gold. I remember wondering if it were 
 
 possible that a futui-e generation would be able to 
 
 coin the gold I saw in the sky, and how profitable 
 
 the business would be if a man could do it all 
 
 himself, forgetting, in my stolid ignorance, that 
 
 the gold in the clouds could buy a brighter hope and 
 
 more glorious wealth of thought than the gold 
 
 mines of the whole earth ; that when we look on 
 
 the bright sunset, so golden and beautiful, it 
 
 speaks of a bright to-morrow, although the clouds 
 
 are but the vapours dra^ii by the power of the sun 
 
 fi'om the ocean — the record of his day's deeds. So 
 
 if the end of life shows bright thoughts and good 
 
 deeds drawn from the ocean of life, we may look 
 
 for a bright rising when the dark night of death 
 
 has passed away in the glory of an immortal 
 
 morning. 
 
 " I knocked at Bates the miller's door, had a 
 cup of cider, received another small account, and 
 walked round the dam to cross the j)lank, when I 
 found a lady coming the other way. She was
 
 LITTLEDALE. 69 
 
 standing on the plank, looking at the setting sun 
 with a rapt, earnest gaze: two lips half parted; 
 blue eyes, that seemed almost grey, that gazed 
 into the glories of the declining day with so eager 
 and intent a look, as if to read some great truth 
 afresh as it came across the bridge of time, or as 
 if to see again that portion of the vision of St. 
 John that speaks of the great city. Instinctively 
 I turned again to the sunset, with eyes cleared 
 of their covering of dross, and saw a bright vision 
 of hope. I seemed to have lived an age in that 
 instant. We often, I fancy, judge very erroneously 
 of time ; it is a mere thing of clocks and watches. 
 A slight exclamation of dismay again caused me 
 to look at the bright vision. I saw her parasol 
 had dropped from the half-opened hand, and had 
 floated some distance down the dam. In an instant 
 I was down the bank, and, plunging into the 
 water, recovered it. A look of terror was quickly 
 changed to amusement, as in my dripping state I 
 offered it back. 
 
 " ' Thank you sincerely, but I fear that you will 
 take cold,' said the lady. 
 
 *" I am not afraid of that ; a slight wetting is
 
 70 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 not of that importance to me,' I said, with a gaze 
 so ardent that it brought a slight blush to her face, 
 which caused me to wish myself anywhere else, 
 with the strange inconsistency of human nature. 
 
 ** * Pray go home now and change your things ; 
 I will not have you stay to be thanked.' So, with 
 a pretty imperiousness in her manner, she retraced 
 her steps. 
 
 '* * Where have you been ? ' said uncle, when I 
 arrived dripping wet. 
 
 "Without an explanation, I hurried upstairs 
 and changed my garments, and quickly presenting 
 myself before my uncle, I handed him the money 
 I had received on his account. 
 
 " ' Uncle, I want a sovereign,' said I. 
 
 *' He was too astonished to speak at first. I 
 have no doubt he thought me mad. When he had 
 a little recovered from his astonishment he said, 
 ' What for ? ' 
 
 " * I want it,' I said. 
 
 " ' Look here, lad ; you are always a good lad, 
 but it isn't for drink, gamblmg, or such like ? ' 
 
 *' My contemptuous smile was sufficient answer. 
 He handed me the money with a sigh. As I
 
 LITTLEDALE. 71 
 
 hastily deposited it in my pocket, my action re- 
 assm-ed liim, and gradually I saw liim smile. He 
 thought I had a new idea to surprise him with. I 
 had on one or two occasions before asked for small 
 sums to perfect a new idea in shoes before I 
 showed him the result. The rest of the day passed 
 in a whhl of thoughts. I could hardly take ac- 
 count of time ; and when the evening shades came 
 on, om^ frugal supper seemed like the nectar of 
 Olympus. In a dream I went to bed. In the 
 darkness of the night I thought over the events of 
 the day. Once a thought of greater gain crossed 
 my mind, that I might have more to offer ; but 
 the way I knew and more than suspected it was 
 sometimes made, made me shudder. But I felt 
 none of this about the sovereign ; it seemed sui 
 generis, like an offering on the Hebrew altars of 
 old, that lost its earthy taint as the fire consumed 
 it and it became a holy thing. 
 
 " Next morning a few inquiries caused me to be 
 in possession of the fact that the lady was the 
 sister of John Penny. She had been a governess 
 at Sahsbury till her brother fetched her home. 
 Love is qi^ck to see, and with a heavy heart I
 
 72 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 recollected that Squire Maunder had been to the 
 Salisbury races last month. He might have seen 
 her; but hope whispered he might not. In the 
 afternoon I strolled through the town, dressed in 
 better clothes. I saw the same streets that I had 
 seen yesterday, but they were changed. As I 
 walked along I saw two men in front ; they were 
 deep in conversation. It was the squire and John 
 Penny. I thought John looked better than usual ; 
 in fact, he was not a bad fellow, and I determined 
 to give him a pair of boots. I tm-ned and went up 
 the town. I bought with the sovereign and some 
 shillings of my own the very best parasol that 
 Littledale contained. I did not see her very many 
 times ; her brother had suddenly got as distant 
 and reserved to me as I had before been to him. 
 What did I care ? I had reason to believe that I was 
 not regarded with indifference, but with a certain 
 amount of regard. But to proceed. 
 
 *' Two or three months afterwards I saw John 
 and his sister walk towards the mill. I bethought 
 myself I had better go to work ; and had scarcely 
 sat down to begin when people running caused 
 me to jump up. I ran out and found on inquiry
 
 LITTLEDALE. 73 
 
 that Miss Penny had fallen in the dam while 
 walking with her brother, and that Squire Maun- 
 der, who happened to be there, had pulled her 
 out. The next day I hurt myself and went to 
 bed. A fever supervened, and it was two months' 
 time before I could go out. I have thought 
 since, * If I could have had some one to talk to, I 
 should not have been so ill,' but the repression of 
 all feeling breaks the machinery down ; there is no 
 safety-valve. When I could make inquiries with- 
 out suspicion, I heard that Miss Penny was to 
 marry the squire, and that John seemed to hold 
 his head higher than ever. I was still dreaming, 
 but the dream was nearly at an end — time would 
 have healed or soothed the smart — when I received 
 a visit from John, who handed me my parasol and 
 quickly turned away, as if afraid to trust himself 
 to speak. He came besides for something else, 
 apparently. He began speaking to uncle, to whom 
 he wanted to sell his house for ready money. I 
 knew uncle had been collecting his money together 
 for some time in anticipation of a bad harvest. 
 At those times he frequently lent farmers money to 
 help with the rent. After a long colloquy he left.
 
 74 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 I hiirried upstairs, and opened the parasol with a 
 kind of vague curiosity. A note dropped out : 
 here it is ; " and he produced a faded old piece of 
 paper. 
 
 '''Dear Mr. Elgood, 
 
 " * I return your parasol with many thanks. 
 John does not wish me to keep it, and I think I 
 had better retm-n it. After Mr. Maunder's great 
 bravery in pulling me out of the water at the risk 
 of his life, I feel I cannot refuse to accede to his 
 request to give into his keeping the life he saved. 
 I send you, if you will accept of it, a ring. It was 
 my mother's, with her name engraved inside ; it is 
 
 the same as my own. 
 
 "'Yours truly, 
 
 " ' Eunice Penny.' 
 
 "How I lived for many months I know not, 
 neither do I know how I felt ; for they were soon 
 married. Month succeeded month with a dull 
 heavy weight. I burnt the parasol because uncle 
 wanted (having a good opportunity) to sell it. One 
 day the bells rang out a merry peal, and I knew 
 the squire had an heir. Poor James ! his has been 
 a hard lot to endure.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 7o 
 
 " Some long time afterwards I was out on busi- 
 ness for my uncle, having finished which I went 
 home. I found uncle out, but the key was under 
 the door ; he had been called for by a neighbour. 
 Waiting his arrival was dull work, and I fell asleep. 
 When I awoke the house was filled with men, and 
 standing in their midst was uncle. They were all 
 talking. The doctor very soon arrived, and began 
 to look at my head. In a vague manner I put 
 my hand up ; it came down covered with blood. 
 The exclamations of the neighbom's put me in 
 possession of the facts as far as my numbed brain 
 would let me. My uncle on his return had found 
 his money gone, and his nephew apparently dead. 
 Next day I was better, and memory partially re- 
 tm-ned : a man with blackened face stood behind 
 me, and then I saw, as in a dream, ten thousand 
 stars before my eyes, and again all was blank. 
 
 " My uncle was affected by the loss of his money, 
 which was the savings of a lifetime. He had got 
 his feet wet, and in his anxiety for me did not 
 change his shoes; I soon learnt I must lose my best 
 friend in this world. The old man died peacefully 
 with my hand in his. I found among his papers
 
 76 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 the title deeds of the house I live in ; it was the 
 house of Eunice. I soon let my old home and 
 began a new life. Standing by the silent dead, I 
 promised, God helping me, to succour Eunice and 
 her child. Two more children quickly followed, 
 but a long illness broke her health and spirits, 
 cheered only by the friendship of her maid, whose 
 name was Parkhouse. When she was quite sure 
 no earthly hope remained, she gave to her faithful 
 but humble friend a bundle of papers to be en- 
 trusted to my care, which I have treasured up. 
 They are ajDparently of no value, but she thought 
 differently, so I have religiously preserved them. 
 
 *' The squire I have not mentioned. He in a 
 contemptuous manner desired that I should supply 
 what shoes the household required, but I have 
 never been paid for a single pair. He sank from 
 bad to worse ; the demon of drink had completely 
 taken hold of him, and the lands passed away into 
 the possession of Lawyer Smith. The squire was 
 drowned one night in the same mill-dam he pulled 
 his wife from. His children were penniless when 
 he died, and James and Eobert Maunder became 
 the apprentices of myself.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 77 
 
 " I am almost come to the end. Mrs. Park- 
 house got a situation for herself and niece, as she 
 called her, in the house of a gentleman not very 
 far off — I would rather not tell you his name — 
 and she Tvrites to me that the second son, ^vho is 
 at home, having sjDent his portion, is paying Clara 
 secret but assiduous com't. Could you, sir, do you 
 not think, let them come to you as servants ? 
 Mrs. Parkhouse is old but willing; Clara is a 
 useful, clever girl. If 3'ou, who do so much, could 
 do this, I ask for no wages. Business has thriven 
 with me, and will, I hope, more so. Save her, I 
 imi:)lore • you ; she is so hke her mother, poor 
 girl!. I don't think I could die happy if when I 
 saw Eunice beyond the river I could not assm-e 
 her of her children's welfare. She may be looking 
 down now, praying you to save her child fi'om a 
 bad man and a fate worse than death." 
 
 Matthew was so excited he clasped the hand 
 of his Hstener, but remembering himself would 
 have let it go. 
 
 ''Let them come to-night, if necessary," said 
 the clergyman, whose eyes were not dry. ''Between 
 you and me there can be nothing but sympathy. 
 I will do all you ask ; I wish I could do more."
 
 78 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Matthew sat quite silent ; tlie clergyman saw 
 he was engaged in silent, though fervent, thanks- 
 giving to the Father of all. 
 
 The moon had risen, bathing all nature in a 
 flood of silver light. Matthew dashed away the 
 signs of emotion and departed; but his walk was 
 firm as ever as he went home. 
 
 The Eev. Cyrus Clark felt sleep out of the 
 question ; he too went out, and looking on the 
 mill-dam mused long and earnestly — not a vain 
 reverie, but steadfast meditation. There is all the 
 difference between the two that there is between the 
 slender racehorse, a mere instrument of gambling, 
 and the stout roadster that bears an honoured 
 master proudly and safely through long years of 
 faithful service. 
 
 " Strange," he mused half aloud, " that the 
 real voice of a human heart moves all who hear it. 
 The water I see before me is the same as yester- 
 day, but for me it possesses a strange interest. It 
 looks so bright and beautiful in the moonlight, I 
 can never think of it the same as I did before ; it 
 speaks with a thousand tongues. It is not the 
 money value of a bit of dyed fabric that moves our
 
 LITTLEDALE. 79 
 
 heart when the standard of our country is waved 
 aloft ; it is the associations that gather round it." 
 
 He suddenly felt a chill as another figure 
 crossed the plank and wished him good evening. 
 It was Maurice Jones, Joshua's clerk. He i^assed 
 and was gone ; but the water looked differently — it 
 seemed cold and dead. The affinities we feel of 
 attraction and repulsion, do they ever err? Doctors 
 tell us that the healthy give an atmosphere of 
 health, and the sick an atmosphere of disease ; if 
 it is so in the material world, may it not be so in 
 the unseen ? '' Take up thy bed and walk," and 
 " Son, thy sins be forgiven thee," fell from the 
 same Divine lips, thereby recognizing a complete 
 resemblance between the seen and the unseen.
 
 CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 Next day Matthew was in the sittmg-room at the 
 back of the shop. The happy frugal breakfast had 
 been despatched. The three occupants of the room 
 drew then: chairs a little away from the table. 
 James and Eobert waited for Matthew to go to work, 
 followed by themselves ; instead of that he sat still. 
 Time had pressed heavily on the faces and 
 spu'its of the brothers. They could hardly be 
 mistaken for other than twins. Their great 
 resemblance deepened with age: the same black 
 eyes, straight hair, gaunt frames, and sinewy arms, 
 with a great similarity of dress, heightening the 
 illusion ; but their foreheads had not expanded as 
 much as an observer could wish. They had a trifle 
 too keen an an of business to be altogether quite 
 natural. Matthew had never spoken to them of
 
 LITTLEDALE. 81 
 
 the future; and between the brothers a perfect 
 bond subsisted, even to the amalgamation of their 
 petty savings in the dim hope that Clara might 
 one day sit at a table in their company, in their 
 own house. They had never been known to waste 
 a penny or produce one, except when, in Matthew's 
 absence, an impecunious workman had borrowed 
 sixpence, to be repaid at the end of the week by 
 ninepence. Laugh not at the transaction ; when 
 we look at the motive, we can hardly but admire 
 the constancy of purpose. For them there was no 
 relaxation ; overtime was valuable to add to the 
 hoard; but when little Dick Summers was ill, 
 James and Eobert sat up with him without fee or 
 reward. The earliest mushrooms were brought to 
 the invalid's chamber, and bunches of wild flowers, 
 plucked in the Sunday afternoon stroll, often from 
 miles distant, gave the little close chamber a 
 beauty, adding also a freshness to the atmos- 
 phere. But to give money was not to be thought 
 of; that was sacred. The misery at the Grange 
 was too deeply burnt in their memories ; the hope 
 of Clara's society too precious a thing to be de- 
 layed even one instant. It was a kind of avarice 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 of the noblest shade, but still the love of money 
 was there, hardly to be eradicated in after years. 
 So avarice, though tinted with the rainbow hues of 
 affection, still breathes the same bhghting influence 
 on the soul, unless checked in certain phases of 
 character. The poisonous flowers of the tropics, 
 though bright and splendid, bear the taint of death 
 to the frame as surely as the pestiferous alleys of 
 some great city ; both owe their deadly taint to 
 corruption and decay. 
 
 Matthew looked grave. You would hardly have 
 recognized the impassioned man who the night 
 before bowed the heart of his fellow with genuine 
 pathos, in the apparently dry business specimen 
 sitting a little away from the table. 
 
 "Five years ago," said Matthew, "I took two 
 apprentices. They have worked faithfully ; I shall 
 give them their reward, but not all at once. 
 Living in the house, I have given small wages, nor 
 could more be expected. But I am going to do 
 more than that. I have discharged the last of my 
 workpeople except John Summers, so I intend to 
 employ no more, but sell more shoes and boots 
 without them."
 
 LITTLEDALE. 83 
 
 The brothers stared, but listened. 
 
 '' You remember that last fall I was sorely put 
 to it. The men insisted on one and sixpence more 
 per pair on the boots, and one shilling on the 
 shoes ; time-work rose in proportion. It was the 
 working of a natural law. The country is richer 
 than it was, but not to the extent of such an 
 increase. Even the apprentices got idle, except 
 you, James and Kobert. A similar movement per- 
 vaded the country. The masters were beaten for 
 the time because they depended on money. They 
 now have sought the assistance of brains, and are 
 more independent than ever ; but it is necessary to 
 brains to work alone, and yet in company. The 
 men are beaten at their own weapons. They said, 
 ' Do without us if you can ; ' and the masters have 
 done without them, by the aid of a mighty force 
 compared to which the swiftest movement of the 
 human hand is dull and powerless." 
 
 ''How?" said Eobert. ''I don't see. Shoes 
 must be made. The end of the quarter is near, 
 and we have only half a stock to meet the demand. 
 Servants, and those who take their money quar- 
 terly, want their boots all of a push." ,
 
 84 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 "And they shall have them," Matthew re- 
 turned, with a smile. 
 
 "If I and Kobert work ever so," said James, 
 " we could not get them done in time." 
 
 " Now, attend to me," said Matthew. " I have 
 a great deal to do in a week. You, James, as the 
 elder, will take all the stock out of the window 
 into this room, and display as best you can here. 
 Men will be here from Gibbs the carpenter's in an 
 hour to alter the fi'ont. You, Kobert, will see no 
 time is lost in getting the shop ready. The work- 
 shop and parlour will be thrown into one, with two 
 windows. Are you satisfied to wait my further 
 instruction and orders without questioning ? " 
 Both replied, without hesitation, they would. 
 "Will you trust me with your savings? I 
 never wronged any one yet," said Matthew. 
 
 James, as the elder and custodian, went and 
 returned with a little bag. It contained seventeen 
 pounds, fourteen shillings, and twopence. 
 " Do you trust me ? " 
 
 A look came in the faces of each ; they felt a 
 
 confidence of success with all the fervour of youth. 
 
 "James will meet me at Salisbury with a
 
 LITTLEDALE. 85 
 
 waggon and two horses ; John Summers will drive 
 them to the Wheat-sheaf, where you will find me. 
 Tell him nothing,'" said Matthew, impressively. 
 "As you are silent, so will the reward be. Eobert, 
 you will stay at home, but a great pleasure awaits 
 you; this day week call on the Eev. Cyi'us Clark, 
 and give him this letter." 
 
 An hour later Matthew left Little dale, in the 
 direction of Salisbury, by the carrier's cart. It 
 was a long journey at four miles an horn-, as 
 insisted on by a paternal Government, in order 
 that the blessings of quick locomotion shall be 
 only at the service of the rich, that the poor and 
 ill-fed may experience the rigours of the winter's 
 cold and summer's heat. Some people don't know 
 when they are well off, and cannot assent, if poor, 
 when a rich acquaintance bemoans the snare of 
 riches that has fallen to his lot. 
 
 James and Eobert both worked well. The new 
 front was put in, and shelves for shoes and boots 
 of all description adorned the windows. 
 
 James and John Summers had deparied and 
 arrived at Sahsbmy, meeting Matthew, who had 
 the waggon laden with hampers, and again set
 
 86 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 their faces towards Littledale. When they knocked 
 at the door, even Matthew hardly knew it again. 
 Eobert had worked to the last, and made the best 
 display he could, but the stock was small. 
 
 ''Now, boys," said Matthew, "get rid of old 
 John, who is rather knowing, and shut up shop." 
 
 The shutters were adjusted in a twinkling. As 
 the two young men, in company with their master, 
 opened the first hamper — it was full of boots and 
 shoes — they looked in wonder. Matthew said to 
 James, " Could you sew a boot like that ? " 
 
 "No, I could not." 
 
 " Of course you can't, because it is pegged, or 
 made by machinery. In future I shall be inde- 
 pendent of all chance help, and the repairs will get 
 less and less every year." 
 
 James and Eobert stared. 
 
 "Because boots will get cheaper and less 
 thought off." 
 
 The triumph was complete. Nevertheless 
 Matthew thought it strange that Eobert said 
 nothing of his visit to the vicarage. He said 
 nothing, however, but watched him with curiosity. 
 Eobert was in a hurry with his breakfast next
 
 LITTLEDALE. 87 
 
 morning, and chided James that he was so long, 
 customers -^"ould be coming in, and Eobert's eyes 
 danced. A step was heard ; Robert looked out and 
 said, "Here is a lady. You go, James." 
 
 James wondered; his brother was not usually 
 so lazy ; but he went. A tall, beautiful girl came 
 in, dressed in quiet but good taste. A pair of blue 
 eyes looked at him in a confidential way quite 
 frightening. A wealth of brown hair showed even 
 under the bonnet. Regular and beautiful features 
 lit by a smile caused James's memory to come 
 to his aid, and merrily rushing, he kissed the 
 customer, exclaiming, " Little Clary's come, Robert ! 
 Come out." 
 
 Robert came laughing, saying, '' I saw Clara 
 last night ; but some one else is not far off." 
 
 Another figure advanced as both together said, 
 *' Parky's home again. Hm-rah ! " And notwith- 
 standing their patriarchal ages, osculation was 
 again repeated. 
 
 Matthew advanced, and having kissed Clara, 
 not to that young lady's entire satisfaction, said, 
 *' I can't have you in the shop ; go in the parlour." 
 
 Brothers and sister all went, and the door was
 
 8S LITTLEDALE. 
 
 shut. How many questions were asked and 
 answered none of the three could tell. Matthew 
 and Jane Parkhouse both looked into the street. 
 Matthew had to dust a pair of boots very vigor- 
 ously and for a long time, apparently obtaining a 
 fresh supply of polish from passing the duster 
 across his eyes. Jane's spectacles had never 
 required such a long time to adjust them, for the 
 perfect achievement of which a handkerchief was 
 necessary. At length, with a very suspicious 
 moistui-e in the eyes, Matthew said, '' You left no 
 address." 
 
 Jane actuaUy winked. She had never been 
 known to be guilty of it before, or was ever again ; 
 she must therefore be excused. Matthew laughed 
 so long and joyously, that he seemed never to have 
 known a care. He seemed to have lost the " kink " 
 in his shoulders, a light appeared to shine all 
 around him again, as he shook Jane by the hand. 
 They both seemed treading on air, when they were 
 brought to the level of ordinary life as Eeuben, 
 Miller Bates's carter, entered and said, " Be 
 measter's boots ready ? " 
 
 Matthew shook himself together, called James,
 
 LITTLEDALE. 89 
 
 and business recommenced. The prose of every day 
 intruded on the romance. Jane and Clara departed. 
 At dinner Matthew explained to James and Eobert 
 sundry matters; the most important was that in 
 future a share of the profits would be theirs — a 
 small one, to be sure. Think of it, Dives, as you 
 cut your guinea pine, what a sum of half that 
 amount was to the orphans, beggared by the vice 
 of a dead father, and grumble less because you 
 cannot enjoy it more. 
 
 All day the new stock of boots and shoes were 
 sold in quantities before unknown. When shutting- 
 up time was near, James asked, ^' Could I and 
 Eobert have a sovereign ? " 
 
 Memory struck a string that jarred in the 
 reminiscences of the past, as Matthew said, *' What 
 for ? I insist on knowing." 
 
 " To buy a pair of boots each, for Clara and 
 Parky." 
 
 Matthew had to polish another pair of boots in 
 a dark corner. 
 
 The supper went merry as a marriage bell. 
 The two parcels were done up. One boot of each 
 pair had a card written in perfectly juvenile but
 
 90 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 clear round hand — '' From Bobby," and " From 
 Jimmy." It was a revival of the names of child- 
 hood. 
 
 After supper Matthew looked at the brothers, 
 who, rising, went with him across the town a little 
 way, and all three looked with chastened sadness 
 at the waters of the mill-dam. It was a fit ending 
 to the day. Both took a hand of their best friend 
 in silence; but a sober undercurrent of content 
 filled the heart of the old man, and hope illumined 
 the future of the younger ones. They saw a figm-e 
 approaching ; it was a man, who wished them 
 good evening and went on. They all recognized 
 Maurice Jones. The spring of joy seemed to dry 
 in the breast of each, but they understood not how. 
 It is fortunate for us we cannot exorcise speech 
 from the dark phantom called to-morrow.
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 "When the mountebank shouted in the Athenian 
 market-place the secret of memory, the sage said, 
 ^' Teach me how to forget." Gabriel St. John sat 
 in his study and wished he too could forget one or 
 two of the pages of his history. He had several 
 times turned the leaf and began afresh, but the 
 blots on the back copies he had never tried to 
 erase with the sharp knife of repentance ; he only 
 tried not to see them. Not but that the most care- 
 fully erased blot leaves a mark and scar visible to 
 the head-master, when he turns over the leaves 
 when the copy-book is done and the pupil passed 
 to another sphere of action. 
 
 A letter lay on the table ; it was wet with tears, 
 both old and new. Far off in distant Spain lay a 
 young man dying, and before he died he had
 
 92 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 gathered together the last of his energies to write 
 a long letter to his father. He repented of his 
 wasted life, now ebbing away. He had burnt the 
 candle at both ends with an industry and perse- 
 verance worthy a better cause. His folHes and 
 vices had been open and patent to the world, but 
 they had never been stained with baseness except 
 to himself, and he had imagined he did no wrong. 
 But death was very near ; he already seemed to 
 hear the twanging of the bow-string that told the 
 shaft was speeding to lay him low. His past career 
 was anything but cheering to look back upon. 
 Memory brought back the scenes of wild revel, not 
 with the artificial light of passion, making the 
 tin-foil look like gold, but the cold, stern daylight 
 of truth showed the bright colours and glittering 
 pleasures to be daubs and shams. Isadore St. 
 John told his father that no disgrace, in the world's 
 view, hung over his life ; but he wrote chiefly about 
 his brother, praying the old man to see that he, 
 when advanced to the position of the heir of the 
 name, might live a worthier life, more true to 
 himself, his country, and his God. 
 
 Gabriel sighed and looked round. He wished
 
 LITTLEDALE. 93 
 
 to turn the leaf over, as he had done before. He 
 was not a man of great strength of feehng ; he 
 had worn out the deeper emotions of the heart in 
 fi'ivolous pleasui-es. The thought crossed his mind 
 that perhaps Isadore was in low spiiits, and the 
 feelings he expressed were only proper when a man 
 was ill. He was sorry for Isadore, but more sorry 
 for himself ; and as his thoughts took a more selfish 
 turn, he wondered at the tears that had fallen on 
 the letter. 
 
 A knock at the door was answered by '' Come 
 in," and Edward St. John, his second son, en- 
 tered, who cast a look round the room of deep 
 observation. The young man had an air of con- 
 centration that his father and brother had never 
 possessed. A large well-formed head, though not 
 a very high forehead, went with a face not easily 
 to be forgotten : black eyes, with well-defined 
 eyebrows, hooked nose, and firmly cut mouth, the 
 lower jaw of which slightly protruded, but this was 
 skilfully hidden by a black beard. He was about 
 the middle height, of not too slender a make, which 
 was the result of muscle, not fat. As his son 
 hummed a tune in a debonnaire manner, Gabriel
 
 94 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 gathered ujd the letter and locked it in the library 
 table before him. Edward's eyes glanced round 
 the shelves of volumes with the eye of a hawk, and, 
 seeing none unlocked, concluded his father had 
 been writing or reading letters on business, so it 
 appeared to him a propitious time to open the game 
 he intended to play. He therefore lightly said — 
 
 " Could you trust me with the key of your deed 
 chest to-day? I wish to look at the lease of 
 Eooter's farm; he takes an easy tone about his 
 rent." 
 
 Gabriel said ''Yes " with unusual alacrity. He 
 was pleased to see Edward take such an interest 
 in matters he usually seemed to care nothing for. 
 The business of the outer world was intruding 
 in a very welcome manner to drown his remorse- 
 ful thoughts. He put off the evil day with a 
 feehng of rehef he could hardly account for. 
 
 " Shall I help you, Ted?" 
 
 " I shall not be at hberty to look until after 
 dinner, sir." 
 
 Gabriel's nap, of daily occurrence, would be a 
 lion in the way at that time. So Edward, having 
 got the key, strolled out. He went through the
 
 LITTLEDALE. 95 
 
 plantation at the back of the house, and over two 
 stiles and fields ; about three hundi'ed yards further 
 brought him to the village, where, calling at the 
 post-office, he took his letters. An occasional present 
 to the post-master's wife insured his letters being 
 left till he fetched them. He did not care to have 
 them left at Stratton Manor, his father's house ; 
 not that he had any great secrets at j)resent to 
 conceal, but he found a satisfaction in being inde- 
 pendent in the matter. 
 
 The Httle village of Stratton lay in one straight 
 street, and the road then ran for about a mile 
 through meadows and corn fields, past three or 
 four farmhouses, till it joined the high-road that 
 led to Littledale, five miles further on. The pro- 
 perty of his father lay in and around the village, 
 extending nearly to the high-road, with a few bits 
 lying beyond. The St. Johns were county people, 
 not exorbitantly wealthy, but no extraordinary 
 vices had impoverished them. For generations 
 they had been rather lavish in youth, rather close 
 in old age; so the property remained much the 
 same. An occasional marriage with an heu'ess 
 had added a farm or two ; an occasional mortgage
 
 yb LITTLEDALE. 
 
 had induced extra care in the next generation to 
 wipe it off. The stream of time had gone smoothly 
 with the St. Johns since a Mr. St. John, in the 
 reign of James the Second, had settled there. He 
 had married a lady of the neighbourhood, and they 
 had been accounted people of the place ever since. 
 There is a strange clannishness in the bucolic 
 mind, no doubt descending from the time when the 
 tents were the home of the clan, and each in turn 
 had to watch the common property in peace and 
 fight for it in time of war, when a stranger was 
 perhaps a spy or a thief, nevertheless to be offered 
 food and drink, but to depart on the morrow. 
 The word pagan (derived from pagus, a village) 
 shows that even then dead forms and dethroned 
 gods lingered in the rural districts, and still in 
 villages and hamlets is heard the echo of dead 
 and buried superstitions and beliefs. 
 
 Edward opened his letters and read them. Two 
 were from acquaintances — one was an invitation to 
 a ball in a month's time in the Littledale Town 
 Hall ; the other was from his tailor, not a dunning 
 letter, but to ask the question of the solvency of 
 an acquaintance.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 97 
 
 He strolled on till he came to the end of the 
 village, and got over the stile into the churchyard. 
 He i^aused and looked at the graves. There Tvas 
 one in a dark corner : '' John Penny," with age 
 and date. " Strange," he thought, half aloud, 
 *' that what John said should affect me. He was a 
 drunken fellow, but he was dying. I think he told 
 the truth, or what he thought was truth, years ago. 
 'Master Edward,' said he, 'never you mind, but if 
 Lord Chiveydale dies, you go and marry Clara 
 Maunder. She will bring you riches and power.' 
 Poor fellow ! I got him out of a scrape, and told a 
 lie over it. He was fond of me, but a very 
 ignorant clod indeed. Was he ever more than he 
 seemed ? I think not ; he was so ignorant and 
 brutish in his ideas and aspirations. Clara's gone 
 now, I don't know where. She was not bad 
 looking, but I can't throw myself away on a 
 peradventm-e. I got her to tell me the history of 
 her life, but couldn't make anything of it. When I 
 went to Sahsbmy three days ago, I saw in a paper 
 the death of Lord Chiveydale, with no issue. But 
 Clara's gone, and left no addi*ess. Her aunt's 
 name was Parkhouse, so what could Penny know ? 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Her aunt never married, so I don't see the connec- 
 tion, y/as he dehrious ? It is such a long time, I 
 had haK forgotten it ; I'll look this afternoon. It's 
 no use asking Smith — he is the only lawyer worth 
 having about here — till I come to some facts." 
 
 Edward retraced his steps and walked about 
 the home farm till the dinner-beU rang. They 
 dined at the Manor at the patriarchal hour of 
 two o'clock. After dinner Edward strolled into the 
 library, and having unlocked the great safe, looked 
 over all the recent deeds, till he came to the more 
 ancient ones. But the cramped writing foiled him ; 
 the unknown English words and peculiar phrase- 
 ology were beyond his comprehension. He was 
 about to restore them, when two papers, yeUow 
 with age, nearly perished with decay, attracted his 
 attention. He deciphered a little, and then put 
 them in his pocket-book. Having replaced all the 
 deeds and locked the doors of the chest, he went 
 into the dining-room, where he found his father 
 just awoke from his nap. He returned the key, 
 and said he could not find what he wanted. This 
 was strictly true in one sense. 
 
 In the evening he went into the viUage again :
 
 LITTLEDALE. 99 
 
 the day must be filled up somehow. The farmers 
 spoke to him with respect. Isadore had been away 
 so long he was half forgotten. Smidry pieces of 
 gossip were discussed : Solomon's bay mare was to 
 be broke and sold; the crop on the upland was 
 bad ; the water meadow had a good math of hay 
 this year; Lawyer Smith was coming to-morrow 
 to see John Steggall about three heifers he had sold 
 him, but John had forgotten their ages, and had 
 guaranteed they were younger than they proved to 
 be. Edward's attention was aroused. ^Tien 
 would Smith be in the village ? he asked. At 
 three o'clock, and would attend at the Stratton 
 Arms, which was the house they were sitting in. 
 Edward was at the point of saying he would call, 
 but, thinking better of it, resolved to di'op in as 
 if by accident. 
 
 Just then a horseman passed at full gallop — it 
 was a moonlight night — in the direction of the 
 Grange. The company wondered who it could be. 
 Edward went home and saw a horse covered with 
 foam standing on the gravel walk in front of the 
 Manor, which was sacred from four-footed beasts 
 in a general way. He was puzzled, but entering
 
 100 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 the 02Den door saw the servants talking in low 
 tones. The stranger looked out from the library 
 door and said — 
 
 *' Send for Mr. Edward." 
 
 Edward stepped in. His father had bowed 
 himself down on the table behind which he ,was 
 sitting. Edward approached and, in a voice full 
 of real anxiety, inquired what was the matter. On 
 the desk was a legal-looking document : — 
 
 " Consulate of Batonxe, Spaix. 
 " Certificate of Death of a British Subject. 
 
 ''Isadore St. John, aged twenty-seven, height 
 five feet ten inches, dark eyes, and regular features, 
 died this morning, at six o'clock, June 27th, 18 — " 
 
 A letter fi*om his compagnon clu voyage stated 
 that, a Queen's messenger being about to start, 
 he had sent the certificate, and the next vessel 
 that sailed would carry the personal effects of 
 Isadore to England. 
 
 After the first shock, Edward could hardly be 
 expected to feel the poignant grief that his father 
 did. He was now the eldest son ; but the old 
 man's grief was rendered more deej) and intense by
 
 LITTLEDALE. 101 
 
 the thought that the last appeal of the dead had 
 been disregarded, thrown aside, and locked out of 
 sight. 
 
 Next day Gabriel sat in the library as before. 
 In a half-hesitating way, he said to Edward, who 
 sat opposite — 
 
 " I had a letter from Isadore ; shall I read it, 
 or would you like to read it yourself? " 
 
 "Thanks; I will read it myself," replied his 
 son, putting it carefully into his pocket. 
 
 Just then a servant having knocked, said, " Mr. 
 Joshua Smith begs to leave his respects." 
 
 Edward rose. '' ShaU you see him, father ? " 
 
 "No," said Gabriel. '" Tell him I will see him 
 next week." 
 
 The door closed on Edward, who, finding Smith 
 in the breakfast-room, received his condolences in 
 a very appropriate manner. Still Edward lingered. 
 Joshua began to think of going, when Edward 
 suddenly said — 
 
 " Now I think of it, my father found an old 
 letter, or rather document, in his deed chest. 
 Could you kindly translate it into understandable 
 EngHsh ? It is a legal document, apparently."
 
 102 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 The lawyer smiled, but it was a crafty smile. 
 Edward noticed this, and in consequence only 
 handed him the half, which Joshua, di'awing an 
 inkstand and writing materials to him, copied in 
 a regular and legal handwriting : — 
 
 "I, Esmond Edward, foui'th Earl of Chivey- 
 dale, in the county of Lancaster to wit, do, being 
 of sane mind, testify that Isadore Percy St. John 
 is indeed my third son, of my body lawfully be- 
 gotten, and that he goes away on the service of 
 his king with my full and entire concuiTence ; and 
 I therefore give him my blessing and a portion of 
 one thousand pounds, for to have and to hold as he 
 shall see fit." 
 
 This was all the paper that Joshua could 
 decipher, as it was broken off. He took his leave ; 
 and Edward, having wished him good-day, sat as 
 one in a di-eam. So many events had crowded 
 in so short a space, he felt bewildered, but re- 
 covering himself went to the Hbrary, where he 
 found his father a httle better, and having re- 
 turned the letter he had not read, said —
 
 LITTLEDALE. 103 
 
 *' Mr. Smith will call this day week." 
 Late at night Edward, having locked his room 
 door, again appKed himself to the remainder of 
 the paper. By aid of the first part to refer to, 
 and Joshua Smith's rendering to help him, he 
 deciphered it at length with difficulty : — 
 
 *'The wicked have stirred up one against the 
 divine right of our blessed King James, who, 
 holding the ark of the Lord in the tabernacle of 
 the wilderness — the true Catholic faith, to wit — 
 shall triumph as Gideon over his enemies. They 
 shall lick the dust with fear and trembling before 
 him; like a giant refreshed with wine shall he 
 smite the ungodly. 
 
 (Signed) " Esmond Edward. 
 
 " Whereof we witness the same — 
 
 ' ' e smond e dward, 
 " Charles James, 
 " Joseph Henry, 
 
 " Sons of the above, and hr others of 
 the said Isadore Percys 
 
 Here it broke off. But no trace of date except
 
 104 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 one, which Edward, on holding it up for a moment 
 to the Hght, perceived : the water-mark in the 
 paper was dated 1686. 
 
 " Then my ancestor must have gone to fight 
 Monmouth," he thought. ^'I wonder if he lost 
 his money, or made more of it ? " 
 
 He was still speculating on the subject, when 
 another inclosure fell out. It was more modern. 
 
 '* To my dear son Edward Eeginald St. John. 
 
 " All the deeds, certificates, and registers of 
 my ancestors I beseech him to be careful of. They 
 are in a secret place, well known to me and one 
 other only — my well-beloved steward, Jacob Penny, 
 to wit — who will, on his attaining his majority, 
 show him the same. I leave this writing that the 
 fact of the battle of Zenta, in which Prince Eugene 
 defeated the infidel Turks, may not be forgotten in 
 the memory of my descendants. There Charles 
 James St. John, having fled his country on the 
 accession of King William the Third, was basely 
 slain by a renegade Christian, whom he conquered 
 in battle ; all account of which is lost, save what I 
 acquired by accident and have deposited where no
 
 LITTLEDALE. 105 
 
 sacrilegious hands can easily disturb the same. 
 Let him carefully see that Littledale chui'ch is un- 
 disturbed, and the pulpit of the priest shall stand 
 a memorial of trust. But never let him aspire for 
 what he shall never attain ; rather in new scenes 
 and aspii'ations carve out a name for himself. 
 The story of the fall may be followed by a redemp- 
 tion to new and higher glories, but Eden shall 
 never be restored to Adam's race. 
 
 " Joseph Eeginald St. John. 
 
 " Jan. 21, 1807." 
 
 Edward sat still as his task was completed. 
 But one great fact still obtruded itself: he had 
 not found in the great safe anything of im- 
 portance, except leases and comparatively modem 
 certificates and registers. Neither could he make 
 much of the last sentence, but dismissed it with 
 the passing thought that his respected ancestor 
 must have presented the peculiar compound of a 
 Pm-itan upholder of the Stuarts. With the san- 
 guine hopefulness of twenty-two, he went to bed 
 and at length to sleep, and dreamt he took his seat 
 in the Lords, who were all seated in the hbrary
 
 106 
 
 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 downstairs, which had obligingly stretched itself 
 for the purpose to an indefinite length, as, at the 
 far end, the Lord Chancellor very kindly pulled out 
 the missing documents from the Woolsack.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Rev. Cyrus Clark sat in his study. A month 
 had elapsed since his interview with Matthew. He 
 was more conversant with the affairs of Little- 
 dale than ever. His congregation sent for him 
 with edifying eagerness ; but it was the sins of 
 their neighbours, and not their own, they be- 
 moaned and confessed. He found they all had 
 afflictions, but their neighbom's had judgments faU 
 on their sinful heads. It was vain to stop the 
 current of talk when once set going; so, utterly 
 sick at heart, he was musing on many things. The 
 evening was drawing in. He rang for lights ; and 
 as the room lighted up, he thought of his unwi'itten 
 sermon for Sunday. A heap of opened notes and 
 two or three books lay on the table, not in con- 
 fusion as he had left them, but all neatly arranged,
 
 108 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 just convenient to his hand. It then struck him for 
 the first time that Sally Grimes, and not Mrs. 
 Parkhouse, had brought the candles. He rang 
 the bell again ; Sally appeared. 
 "Mrs. Parkhouse in ? " he said. 
 *^ No, sir ; but she said she would be back in the 
 evening." 
 
 He would fain have asked fui'ther, but a slight 
 difficulty of utterance half prevented him. At 
 length he got out, " Miss Maunder in ? " 
 
 Sally tossed her head, and said spitefully, " No, 
 she ain't." The appellation '^Miss" applied to 
 one she considered a fellow- servant roused her ire. 
 The Eev. Cyrus, unable to fathom or not caring to 
 seek further, was silent, and Sally whisked out. 
 
 Half an hour later Mrs. Parkhouse arrived. 
 
 She went straight to her master's room, and said — 
 
 *'If you please, sir, Clara's gone to stay with her 
 
 brothers for to-night. Matthew would be glad to 
 
 see you in the morning." 
 
 Mrs. Parkhouse retired. But the sermon was 
 not written ; the little heaps lay unconsidered. 
 The Eev. Cyrus thought, and the more he thought 
 the more it jDuzzled him. Should he never have
 
 LITTLEDALE. 109 
 
 the puzzle explained? But it was explained next 
 morning, in a way that disconcerted the vicar not 
 a httle. Matthew called at nine o'clock, and was 
 admitted to an audience, when he i)lunged in medias 
 res with a speed that showed he could scarcely 
 summon courage to do it. 
 
 " If you please," he began, " I thought, if you 
 had no objection, sk, Clara could come and live 
 with me and her brothers." 
 
 The vicar looked up and said quietly, " Why ? " 
 
 Matthew Elgood shifted fi'om one foot to 
 another ; he looked up and looked down, but 
 spoke not. 
 
 " Is it your desii-e, or some one else's ? " 
 
 '' WeU," said Matthew, ''I'U teU you, su\ Truth 
 is always best. Neighbours do talk and say she 
 di'esses like a lady, and does no work, and 
 
 that " Here he stopped and got scarlet. 
 
 ^ ' ' And that what '? ' ' asked his somewhat relentless 
 questioner. 
 
 '' That you have her in youi* study ever so long 
 of a day." 
 
 " Quite true. She puts my study tidy; she did 
 yesterday, as you see it now. But I see what you
 
 110 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 don't like to tell. The neighbours gossip. Now, 
 you have done a most stupid thing to take her away 
 like that, but having gone, she must stay. But 
 she had better come and see Mrs. Parkhouse every 
 that is to say, at intervals." 
 
 The Eev. Cyrus stopped and looked very straight 
 at Matthew, as if to say, "You can go." But 
 Matthew stuck like a leech ; he half held his hand 
 out in a shame-faced way. The vicar took no 
 notice. At length Matthew, in his agony, blurted 
 out — 
 
 *'I don't want to be despised because I was 
 frightened into doing a silly thing. Don't look at 
 me like that, sir; it makes my burden heavier than 
 I can bear. I tried to do right." 
 
 He stopped, as his pride stopped his utterance ; 
 but it was bitter to lose his good friend, his only 
 adviser. He turned, with half a thought that he 
 was deceived in the man before him, when the 
 vicar's hand was put on Matthew's shoulder with 
 an assurance of entirely renewed confidence. But 
 he said nothing except, '^ All right, Matthew." 
 
 Elgood departed ; but as the vicar sat down to 
 write, he looked at the heap of neatly arranged
 
 LITTLEDALE. Ill 
 
 books, and did not touch them. A faint blush 
 mantled his cheek, as he thought with a sigh, " I 
 had better go away ; " then the thought it would be 
 cowardly made him resolve not. Then he thought 
 he would again, when a knock came at the door, 
 and the morning post was delivered. He found he 
 would be saved the trouble of deciding, as a letter 
 was iDut in his hand. It ran thus : — 
 
 " The Cedars, Chiveydale. 
 *' Dear Cyrus, 
 
 "Come at once to yom's truly; we are in 
 urgent want of you. Don't trouble about rector 
 and canon ; let the one dii'ect and the other fire in 
 vain. Baby is not going to be christened till you 
 come and do it ; his mamma wants it done at 
 once. I found, on inquu'ing in London, you had 
 betaken yourself to an obscure little collection of 
 huts called Littledale. Are you studying Stone- 
 henge, or what ? 
 
 " I forgot to say Mary wants some sjDecimens of 
 your local manufactures for my cabinet — such a 
 beauty ; I will show it you when you come. To- 
 day is Tuesday ; on Thursday I shall insist on 
 your arrival. If you don't come, I shall believe
 
 112 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Ulysses is detained by some country siren. Make 
 any arrangements you like, but come ; when you 
 will get away is another thing. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 '* Henry St. John Thompson." 
 
 Cyrus paused. '^ I must go," he thought, "to 
 the invitation of my earliest friend ; but why does 
 he write in a strain so unlike his usually some- 
 what doleful and laconic epistles ? " 
 
 A discreet knock at the door, and a subdued 
 voice asked, ''What time would you please to want 
 dinner, sir ? " 
 
 " Come in ; come in, Mrs. Parkhouse," said 
 Cyrus. It was the very opportunity he sought of 
 sifting Clara's departure, though he pretty well 
 guessed what it would be. If a pimple is ever so 
 small, it is troublesome ; but who can keep from 
 picking it ? Few people can. 
 
 " Mrs. Parkhouse, pray be seated. I wanted to 
 talk to you about a matter to me of importance, 
 and very much so to others." 
 
 *' Certainly, sir ; " but it came with a certain 
 trepidation and confusion.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 113 
 
 " Will you, then, please tell me a little of the 
 gossi^D of the singularly primitive phase of human 
 nature found in Littledale ? " 
 
 Jane only smoothed her apron and looked at 
 the door as if hoj^ing a parishioner would call. 
 She could not escape the piercing look of his eyes, 
 but sat silent. Cyrus was almost at his wits' end, 
 when a new light suddenly dawned on him. He 
 saw that Jane's name was mixed up in the matter, 
 so, altering his tactics, smilingly said — 
 
 "Matthew told me once you were a faithful 
 friend to him and others. I doubt if I have 
 forfeited the claim to that valued name. I have 
 a great wish to do what I can for you in that 
 capacity." 
 
 " Indeed, su', you have been too kind. I wished 
 to do you a service, but I failed to be of use, and 
 have only made matters worse instead of better." 
 
 " Still we tread in a circle," thought Cyrus. 
 ''Matthew told me once, when I first came here, a 
 few particulars of a certain John Penny. Did you 
 ever know or hear what became of him ? " 
 
 Jane's eyes became vague in their expression ; 
 it was evident the past stii'ied within her. A faint 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 blush rose on lier cheek ; her thoughts were in the 
 past. " I don't know what he told, but I am sure 
 Matthew never said anything bad of any one if he 
 could help it." 
 
 ** Do you know where John is now ?" 
 
 " I do. He is buried in Stratton churchyard ; 
 but I lost sight of him for years before, and only 
 when I went to live at Stratton, walking in the 
 churchyard, knew that he was dead by seeing his 
 tombstone." 
 
 '^ So it was at Stratton that you found a home 
 after Mr. Maunder 's death ? " 
 
 "I found a place at Stratton Manor, but no 
 home. Sometimes, walking in the long picture 
 gallery, I used to be frightened of even the paint- 
 ings. I half fancied that Mr. Isadore Percy and 
 his wife looked at me with real eyes instead of 
 painted ones. He was the first of the family in 
 these parts. I have left it, I hope, for ever." 
 
 " Why so, may I ask ? " 
 
 " Because a great fear fell on me that Clara 
 might have a worse fate than even her mother. 
 She wrecked the life of a good man, but I feared 
 that Clara's would be wrecked by a bad one. But
 
 LITTLEDALE. 115 
 
 I don't ^ish to judge my old mistress. Eunice 
 Penny had not the giving of her hand; it went 
 without her heart." 
 
 "But did she encoui'age Matthew, and then 
 throw him over ? " 
 
 '' No, sir ; she was ah-aid of her brother, and he 
 was afraid of the squu-e." 
 
 " How so ? He was not given to be afraid of 
 any one, I should think '? " 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you, sir. Matthew and Miss 
 Penny used to meet seldom to speak, but whenever 
 he passed she was somehow at the window. I only 
 went to her just before her marriage. She did not 
 see him so many times, to be sm-e, but it was an 
 understood thmg between them. She gave him her 
 promise, but she was made to break it." 
 
 " Matthew did not teU me that." 
 
 "Perhaps he didn't; but it's true. You see, 
 John's father was steward to Mr. St. John, of 
 Stratton, all his hfe. The old ]\lr. St. John loved 
 him Like a brother. He caught cold, died, and 
 Jacob was left with Mr. Gabriel. He was a young 
 man who liked his pleasm-e and took it. He was 
 very wild, so they didn't agree, for Jacob was a very
 
 116 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 steady and regular young man. One day Mr. 
 Gabriel wanted Jacob Penny to take a -woman to 
 lodge at his house that Mr. Gabriel was too inti- 
 mate with. Mr. Jacob said he wouldn't, for the 
 sake of his children. Mr. Gabriel was like Squire 
 Maunder, a very determined man, so he said, ' Very 
 well, I'll get it done somehow else ; ' but he took 
 Jacob's son by the hand, and made a gentleman of 
 him, as he called it. He taught him all his bad 
 ways ; they used to be the terror of all the fathers 
 and mothers round for their daughters' sakes. 
 People thought Mr. Gabriel was a gentleman, 
 and could do as he liked; but with John it was 
 different. Jacob had to pay money for him, time 
 after time, till no one respectable would look at 
 John. He went from bad to worse, till he forged 
 his father's name ; and that coming suddenly to 
 the old man's knowledge, he died one day in his 
 chair. He had sent Miss Eunice to Salisbury to 
 school, and when his affairs were looked into 
 there was nothing for either John or Miss 
 Eunice. Mr. Gabriel married and settled down, 
 but John came to Littledale. One day he called 
 at the Salisbury school to see his sister, and gave
 
 LITTLEDALE. 117 
 
 her a lot of iDapers. She was burnmg at the time 
 a lot of old letters ; it was in the winter-time, and 
 there was a fire. He said to her, * Gabriel has sent 
 me adrift, without a penny as he thought ; but I've 
 done him, and he shall pay for it yet. I have got 
 what he don't care to lose.' 
 
 '^ Three days after, a London lawyer and John 
 came to Miss Eunice again, and wanted the papers 
 back. *You should have told me not to burn 
 them,' she said. He and his fine friend were 
 furious ; they were of value, it appeared. 
 
 " Eunice hired a fly and went to Stratton 
 Manor to see Mr. Gabriel, but his wife insulted 
 her. She was not a very clear-sighted woman, 
 and told her she was come to try and get money 
 out of her husband. Poor soul ! she had cause 
 to be jealous. Mr. Gabriel bounced in and told 
 her that she must tell him where her brother was. 
 He thought she came to be paid for giving the 
 papers up. The servants heard something, and 
 went to the fly-man and told him he would be 
 wanted for his share of the robbery. The fly- 
 man, knowing no better, drove off. Miss Eunice 
 had fainted, and when they had brought her
 
 118 LTTTLEDALE. 
 
 round, the fly-man was gone. He was followed, 
 but said she left no jDarcel in the fly, and the 
 affair was hushed up somehow. 
 
 "After Eunice was married she found out 
 that Squire Maunder knew more than he cared 
 to tell about the papers ; he had them right enough, 
 and, through threatening to tell Mr. Gabriel, 
 had John under his thumb. He told his wife 
 they did not belong to Mr. Gabriel at all, and 
 that they would be a fortune for the children 
 some day. But I don't understand these things. 
 So when Lawyer Smith had all his deeds, he 
 never got them, for Mrs. Maunder hid them and 
 gave them to me for Matthew to keep. I never 
 told Matthew all the particulars when I gave them 
 to him, but he has kept them till now, may- 
 be. I never asked him till about two months 
 ago, when I wrote to ask him to come to see me 
 as I was in trouble about Clara and Mr. Edward ; 
 and he said that when James was twenty- one they 
 should be examined. But he didn't seem to 
 mind them much; he was thinkmg about Clara 
 more than a bundle of papers he never could 
 make top or tail of."
 
 LITTLEDALE. 119 
 
 ''Then tell him," said the Eev. Cyrus, *'to 
 keep them. I am going on a journey, and in a 
 fortnight I shall be back, and will look at them with 
 him ; they shall be given to the rightful possessor, 
 if I live long enough." 
 
 As usual with people, they had strayed away 
 from the point in question, till the vicar asked 
 the question, " And since you have been here, 
 what has happened ? " 
 
 '' Well, sir, Harold Smith, Lawyer Smith's son, 
 was at the Feathers the other night. They was 
 all talking of one thing and another, when old 
 Bates the miller and Spears the baker was 
 a-talking. They both had had more than usual, so 
 their tongues were loose. Sally Grimes's aunt 
 told old Bates how SaUy had seen Clara go in 
 your room to dust it of a morning, and that you 
 came in and stopped ever so long, and that you 
 came oftener when she was in there, and that 
 Clara got more and more haughty to her." 
 
 Cyrus's conscience gave him a pretty hard 
 twinge. 
 
 " And then, when you were gone one day, she 
 looked in through the keyhole, and saw Clara
 
 120 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 sitting at your chair and sort of i^lacing herself 
 at it as if receiving company, talking to herself, 
 but she couldn't hear what. Then in the after- 
 noon, as Clara came into the room and she was 
 in the passage, you said, 'Don't forget to be here 
 early to-morrow,' and Clara blushed. So she 
 looked through the keyhole the next day, and 
 saw Clara sitting down and you on your knees 
 before her. 
 
 Cyrus got red. *' Quite true," he said. "I 
 told Miss Maun — I mean Clara — I had a book 
 to show her. It was a very valuable one, with 
 ]3ictures, I had had lent me. I said, ' Sit to the table, 
 as some of the loose leaves may fall out.' About 
 the middle of the book a picture fell out ; it was 
 broken, and I got down on my knees to look for 
 the iDieces. What then?" 
 
 But conscience told him the operation of look- 
 ing for the pieces had been a long one, for he 
 had looked up and seen Clara smile a pleased 
 smile to see him at her feet. 
 
 '' Harold goes over to Matthew and tells him 
 all that they had said ; and what with Harold being 
 not very clear, and Clara, when Matthew taxed her
 
 LITTLEDALE. 121 
 
 with it, blushing u^d and haK denying and half 
 saying 'twas true, it made Matthew mad, so he 
 took her off to his house and said she should 
 stop there. As they were going down by the 
 Feathers, Mrs. Tyack was at the door, and I 
 suppose, seeing Matthew looked angry and that 
 Clara had been crying, said, * Bad blood will 
 show itself.' Then Matthew saw he had done a 
 fooHsh thing in putting a handle to further gossip, 
 but 'twas too late." 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Parkhouse," said Cyrus. 
 " I must get you to stay, please, till this talk has 
 blown over, or I have put the matter straight." 
 
 He felt angry that his housekeeper did not 
 more decidedly take his side than was evident 
 from her manner, but he felt that the best thing 
 for all parties was his approaching absence. 
 
 In the afternoon a post-chaise whiiied away 
 the vicar on his joui-ney to the Cedars. As he 
 passed Matthew's house he saw a female figure 
 at the window. His heart beat quick ; it was 
 Clara. She went back into the room a pace 
 and waved an adieu, but instantly put her hand- 
 kerchief to her eyes.
 
 122 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 That action sealed his fate. Newton saw an 
 apple fall, and his range of mortal vision was in- 
 definitely lengthened, but the facts were as they 
 had ever been. So the vicar flattered himself he saw 
 a great deal further ; perhaps he did in knowledge 
 of life, but the facts of the case remained the same, 
 as he one day found out. The view from the 
 mountain top is not visible because the traveller is 
 gazing at it : he is gazing at it because it is there.
 
 i ^-^v,iis_iis<^,^--is_gi. 
 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 As the Eev. Cyi'us was borne along in the chaise, 
 he found, unhke Dr. Johnson's ex^Derience, the 
 movement was not exhilarating. Reaching Sahs- 
 bm-y, he soon mapped out his route, and found 
 that he must start by a night train, if he would not 
 lose many hom's and the more direct line of rail. 
 
 There is nothing so calls out a man's reflective 
 powers as a solitary night jom-ney by rail. He 
 traced through the maze of the years of his life, 
 guided by the clue of memory. In his childhood 
 again he saw himself at school, a little boy in round 
 jackets, tyrannized over by the bigger ones, his deli- 
 cate appearance and name both expressed by the 
 niclmame of " Sally." He remembered his earnest 
 gaze round for a friend among his companions, who 
 aU seemed intent on their own gratification. One
 
 124 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 day he had been left in the schooh'oom at peace, 
 as cricket, a game he never excelled in, was going 
 forward in an adjacent field. He was perforce 
 driven to read, but it was not done "^ivith eagerness 
 or pleasure. Looking vaguely round to see if a 
 diversion offered itself, he saw on the ground 
 beneath the seats of the awful big boys a letter. 
 It was unsealed. He was tempted to read it, but -a 
 rush of better thoughts prevented him. He looked 
 to see who the owner was, and saw it was Henry 
 Thompson, a boy of some parts, but who achieved 
 little, as languages were not to his taste, and 
 Briarwood House had always prided itself on the 
 classical attainments of both masters and scholars. 
 Evening closed in ; the merry shouting crowd 
 returned : he felt no more alone. The idea that he 
 was about to return the letter unread, after the hard 
 battle with himself not to pry, was an unalloyed 
 satisfaction. Thompson took the letter without a 
 word of thanks, and Cyrus's somewhat confused 
 look certainly looked as if he had read the contents. 
 For a week Thompson intimated neither by word 
 nor look that anything had passed between him 
 and Cyrus. At the expiration of that time Thomp-
 
 LITTLEDALE. 125 
 
 son suddenly confi'onted the smaller boy, and bade 
 him follow him. There grew four or five trees in 
 the comer of the play-field sacred to the altar of 
 friendship ; thither boys were wont to repau- for 
 mutual confidences. One boy, who dehghted in 
 Captain Mayne Eeid's stories, said it was " a grove 
 sacred in old time to the Druids, and that any 
 fellow who split what he heard there would be 
 sacrificed in a wickerwork basket on a roaring fire, 
 amid crackers and squibs." Swellington, the head 
 boy, who dehghted the heart of the head master 
 by his Latin verses, called it " The Briarwood 
 Academe," and said it reminded him of the 
 Athenian gardens of that name. 
 
 As they approached the shade of the trees, 
 Thompson asked, " Did you read that letter ? " 
 " No," answered Cyrus. 
 
 ** I thought not," said his interrogator with a 
 sage nod of wisdom, gathered in a lengthened 
 experience of the world of just fom-teen years and 
 ten days. " I shall in future look to yom* welfare." 
 The manner with which Alexander pardoned and 
 took into favom' a conquered king's family was 
 nothing to it.
 
 126 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Thompson did what he said ; and on that day 
 a friendship was begun that lasted through all 
 their school-days, appeared when the young men 
 were at college, and finally, when Thompson took 
 to himself a wife, Cyrus was confidant in the court- 
 ing days and "best man" at the wedding. But 
 Thompson's father sent him, though a man of 
 property, to a town in the Midland counties and 
 bought him a small lawyer's practice. Hemy, who 
 was a man of ambitious tastes, took to the change 
 in a very cheerful manner, and said to his friend, "I 
 am going to a quiet j)lace, but I shall manage the 
 affah's of a distant cousin, who is a large land- 
 owner near." 
 
 Cyrus had been a cm-ate two years, when Sir 
 Lawrence Bunkum offered him the vicarage of 
 Littledale. It was not worth much — a bare three 
 hundred a year — but Cyrus had lived a quiet, un- 
 eventful life; he gladly took it. At the time he 
 removed, Hem-y Thompson was abroad on some 
 mysterious business. At such times his practice 
 was managed by a confidential clerk ; so the fii-st 
 intimation of his return was his friend's letter, 
 written in so very joyous and cheerful a tone that
 
 LITTLEDALE. 127 
 
 he felt sure some great piece of good fortune 
 had befallen him. 
 
 All this passed through the brain of the soli- 
 tary traveller. He had changed lines from time 
 to time and at ten o'clock on Thursday evening 
 found himself at the gates of his friend's house. 
 It had always been called Norrey Lodge; he 
 wondered what had caused him to re-christen 
 it the Cedars. 
 
 But Norrey Lodge was shut up, and, what was still 
 more strange, he found a board stating it was to be 
 let or sold, apply to Jabez Starks. It crossed his 
 mind with a sort of wonder that that was the name 
 of Hem-y's cojifidential clerk. The fly-man, waiting 
 with his luggage, appeared to be a way of solving 
 the difficulty, so he asked the man if he knew the 
 Cedars. 
 
 *' Do I know it ? Eather. Why didn't you say 
 you wanted the Cedars at once ? We've come 
 three miles out of our way." 
 
 Cyrus jumped in, and was driven rapidly to the 
 station again ; but turning into another road from 
 thence, a mile or two further on, the driver pulled 
 up at a lodge gate, which opened on a park of
 
 128 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 bewildering extent and surpassing beauty. Large 
 and splendid trees of the most approved varieties 
 mingled with oak-trees, the patriarchs of the grove. 
 Each swelling undulation was clothed with living 
 beauty ; deer grazed in tranquil peace or champed 
 the lower boughs, while rabbits ran across the 
 path to the shelter of the adjacent bank. An 
 undulation larger than ordinary apparently barred 
 the way, but a narrow cutting, almost concealed by 
 two gigantic evergreen oaks, opened a scene not 
 easily to be forgotten. A lake stocked with rare 
 and beautiful wild fowl, with an island in the 
 centre, upon which were some ecclesiastical ruins 
 shaded by trees, added another beauty to the 
 scene. Behind the lake stood a noble pile of 
 buildings that seemed even in the daylight so 
 strongly massive, and yet so beautiful, that the 
 spectator half looked for some dragon or fabulous 
 beast to assure him it was the scene of some fairy 
 tale. It oppressed the senses with an indefinite 
 sensation of grandeur. As a writer once remarked, 
 " Here we are so much the slaves of the eye that 
 anything unusual strikes with wonder. Look over 
 three miles of level country; you tm-n away in
 
 LITTLEDALE. 129 
 
 weariness ; but let that same sj)ace stand at an 
 angle of ninety degrees, and you have the Andes 
 s^Dlit fi*om base to highest "peak. Poets would 
 write, painters would reproduce its beauties ; but 
 the three miles of flat country are more beautiful 
 really. The waving corn, the green level grass, 
 each homestead nestling in its own little plot of 
 ground, are quite as beautiful as the barren 
 precipice that yields naught. So, when we look on 
 a large building, we are oppressed with awe, while 
 miles of streets affect us not, except with languor ; 
 but each house in those long lines of street 
 contains a story quite as interesting in the eye of 
 Omnipotence as the doings of the owners of each 
 lofty pile. There is a good deal, if we want admu*a- 
 tion, in how one puts the bricks. The man who 
 builds a street benefits his fellows and is forgotten; 
 they pay him rent grudgingly ; but he who rears a 
 pile of building for his own residence is admii'ed, 
 even by the people he takes rent of for ploughing 
 the land round it." 
 
 The vehicle turned off somewhat from the 
 mansion to a by-road, which terminated m a 
 house of exceedmgly comfortable appearance. The 
 
 YOL. I. K
 
 130 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 front door stood not quite in the centre — one 
 window on one side and two windows on the other, 
 surmounted by four windows on the first story, 
 over which the roof. Five noble cedar trees stood 
 in the front, not too near the house, but evidently 
 belonging to it ; and as the spectator glanced at 
 their graceful forms and pleasant foliage, it was 
 self-evident why the house was called " The 
 Cedars." 
 
 Henry was on the steps. '^ How slow the fly 
 must have driven ! " said he. 
 
 *'Not at all," said Cyrus. *'Iwent to Norrey 
 Lodge. I thought j^ou had not removed. Found 
 it empty ; had to inquire of cabby where " The 
 Cedars "was, got in again, and here I am." 
 
 A lady came out to welcome the guest, and when 
 he looked at her he could hardly realize the fact 
 that twelve months before he had seen her " a 
 blushing bride." Her voice was more full, her 
 features more set; her beauty seemed more perfect. 
 He had left a shy gu'l, and found in its place a 
 woman of determination, talent, and resource. 
 The change was analogous to that from an armed 
 mob to the disciplined j)halanx, or the raw recruit 
 to the trained and self-possessed soldier.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 131 
 
 As baby was produced the expression altered ; 
 the eyes become soft and even dreamy in expression. 
 
 After ablutions and a bath that recompensed the 
 vicar for his want of sleep, he descended to lunch, 
 at which his host and hostess awaited him with 
 smiling faces of hearty welcome. Lunch despatched, 
 they adjourned to the grounds. A lawn ran beyond 
 the house, fronting it, and a small fruit garden on 
 the south side. At the far end of the lawn two 
 patriarchal elms kept watch and ward over the 
 greensward. Beneath the elms some garden seats, 
 pleasantly in the shade, were put into requisition, 
 and Henry said to his guest — 
 
 *' Prepare for a surprise. I suppose you know 
 my name ?" 
 
 " I should think so," said Cyrus. 
 
 *' Well, you don't, then. It appears it is Henry 
 St. John Thompson." 
 
 " I congratulate you," said Cyrus. 
 
 "And, what is more, I shall soon make an 
 addition to it." 
 
 Cyrus looked for further explanation. 
 
 "The fact is," said Henry, "I shall, I hope, 
 soon be Lord Chiveydale."
 
 132 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 ''Don't say hoiDe, Henry ; say you will take your 
 right position with the world," said his wife, as she 
 looked at him. 
 
 ^' Well, I should never if it had not been for 
 you," he rejoined, fondly and proudly. 
 
 Mary looked at him with a gratified and pleased 
 smile. 
 
 "You see, Cyrus, Mary found out — in fact, I told 
 her of the existence of deeds and documents that 
 went far to establish it, so by her ad\dce I went to 
 his lordship, who is just dead. His lawyer looked 
 into the matter, and pronounced my claim indis- 
 putable. I told him that I did not wish to put it 
 forward for the first time after his death, as that 
 would look like a got-up thing. He expressed his 
 delight, as he was pleased to say, that, as manager 
 of his matters, I had shown I don't know what 
 good qualities, and the fact of an undisputed 
 succession was grateful to him. The next day I 
 was sent for again. He asked what expense I had 
 been at, and gave me a cheque that more than 
 covered it, so I had not to rob Mary as I had done." 
 
 Mary put her hand over his lips. Getting free, 
 he continued —
 
 LITTLEDALE. 133 
 
 *' Mary went to the Lord Chancellor's. There 
 was some money left for her exclusive use, but she 
 got it transferred to me for the necessary inquiries ; 
 and now, in two months, when the judges are sitting, 
 I intend to move." 
 
 Mary interposed, *' I do not feel so confident as 
 you, dear, of the undisputed taking possession, but 
 I do feel confident of your ultimate success." 
 
 "What oi^position can I dread? Mr. Pod, the 
 family lawyer, says it is quite clear, and is with me 
 to the uttermost; in fact, he offered to find the 
 sinews of war, and my father devoted his life to 
 the task of unearthing the genealogies of the St. 
 Johns. There are four branches. The first is 
 extinct; the second, Charles James, died in Hun- 
 gary ; the thu'd, Isadore Percy, died without issue 
 in the west." 
 
 Cyrus uttered a little cry; both host and hostess 
 looked up inquu'ingly. 
 
 "Nothing," he said, quickly. "I will take a 
 turn in the grounds." 
 
 Hemy laughed ; Mary looked grave. 
 
 " Cyrus knows something," she said, " and if he 
 goes without telling us, I will never forgive him."
 
 134 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 " Little Goody Two-shoes, you always see some- 
 thing so dreadful." 
 
 *' No, I do not see anything dreadful. I see a 
 great piece of good fortune. Forewarned is fore- 
 armed." 
 
 *' But what can he tell or know ? " 
 
 Baby cried, and Mary went into the house. 
 
 Henry Thompson still remained seated, and 
 looked at Cyrus, as he still walked up and down the 
 lawn with a troubled spirit. Gradually his wife's 
 suggestions filled his mind with misgivings. What 
 if, after all, the rich inheritance should slip away 
 from him? He looked over hill and dale spread 
 before him with feelings of dread he could not put 
 in words. 
 
 Cyrus communed thus with himself: "What 
 have I to tell ? Would it injure any one at Little - 
 dale ? It may be a coincidence, after all, and 
 nothing more." He raised his face to the blue 
 sky and sought for a clue to guide him. Suddenly 
 he thought, ** It could not harm Clara." As he 
 half uttered her name, a bright spot appeared in 
 each cheek. "Why should I be afraid to tell the 
 truth ? I will." It did not occur to him that the
 
 LITTLEDALE. 135 
 
 thought that Clara would not he injured determmed 
 him to tell what he knew, which really did not 
 amount to much, so he argued to himself, turning 
 to Henry, who, wondering at the cleared brow, said 
 to himself — 
 
 " Cohc, after aU ! " 
 
 " What time do you dme ? " 
 
 " Six o'clock, if it suits you." 
 
 " Where does Mr. Pod live ? " 
 
 '* About a mile off. Are you going to him for 
 advice ? " 
 
 *' No ; but I think you will to-morrow." 
 
 "Shall I, indeed? " asked Henry, with a rather 
 uneasy laugh. " Suppose we ask him to dinner, 
 and you tell us when together ; or I will give you a 
 room to yom'selves if you wish it." 
 
 " No, no, Hemy. After dinner I will tell you 
 you and Mary what it was distm-bed me, and then 
 you can form yom- own opinions." 
 
 " I would rather Pod were here." 
 
 " Very well ; then let us ask him, and take a 
 turn till dinner time." 
 
 A messenger was despatched to Mr. Pod's offices. 
 He promised to come ; as he was a bachelor, he 
 did not mind a short notice.
 
 136 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Six o'clock drew near. Henry and Cyrus walked 
 over the small pleasui-e farm together, inspected 
 cattle and poultry, swedes and barley, till half -past 
 five, when both retired to di-ess for dinner. 
 
 Keassembling in the dining-room, Mr. Pod 
 was introduced — a little spare grey man of about 
 forty-five. He had never married, and was always 
 welcome wherever he went. On being introduced 
 to the Eev. Cyrus Clark, Pod thought, *^ A very un- 
 stable mind, always uncertain what he intends, but 
 truthful." Silas Pod always made up his mind, 
 when he saw a man first, whether he liked him or 
 not, even though he was a la^^^er ; but he seldom 
 expressed his likes or dislikes. Covers were re- 
 moved and dinner began.
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 The dining-room at the Cedars was situated to the 
 right hand of the fi-ont door ; beyond it lay a well- 
 stocked library. It was rather an inconvenient 
 arrangement, as there was no way to the library 
 except through the dining-room, but for purposes of 
 private conversation unequalled, because if one of 
 the party sat with his eyes on the dining-room 
 door, having put open the library door, no one 
 could approach within earshot. 
 
 The dinner was finished, the dishes cleared, but 
 the cloth left. The decanters and dessert were 
 carried into the library by the servants, as Hem-y 
 and his wife were all impatient to hear what Cyrus 
 had to communicate. The group round the library 
 table was worthy of a painter. At the top of the 
 table sat Mary. Her eyes shone with a clear light,
 
 138 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 reflecting the strong mind within, as the lake 
 reproduces in its bosom the surrounding landscape. 
 She was her husband's chief hope, even more than 
 Pod, even more than he acknowledged to himself. 
 There was nothing of the usual conception of a 
 strong-minded woman; her table was furnished 
 with elegance and economy. The trunk of the 
 elephant can pick up a pin or tear a branch off 
 the strongest tree of the forest with equal facility. 
 Her husband sat at the bottom, with his back to 
 the window, the light from which shone over his 
 head as the declining orb of day sank in bright 
 glory over the distant hill. Silas Pod had quietly 
 provided himself with writing materials, which, 
 mingling with the dessert, gave a rather incon- 
 gruous appearance to the table. Cyrus sat oppo- 
 site ; his brow was clearer than it was, but a 
 lurking doubt seemed not quite to have vanished. 
 
 " Well," said Henry, ** now begin, Cyrus, and 
 tell us what you wish; if there is anything you 
 would rather not, skip it." 
 
 Pod's brow contracted with a warning wrinkle, 
 but, recollecting that a story once begun insensibly 
 unravels itself, he was silent. Cyrus swallowed a 
 lump in his throat, cleared up, and began —
 
 LITTLEDALE. Ic9 
 
 " Sir Lawrence Bunkum offered me the living 
 of Littledale, as you, Henry, are aware. I went 
 there and found a very quiet community. I was 
 scarcely inducted, when my attention was attracted 
 by the shoemaker of the place, Matthew Elgood by 
 name, a man of ten thousand — one of those bright 
 characters that redeem human natm-e from the 
 accusations so freely levelled by those who, only 
 looking at the sm-face, take a distorted and cynical 
 view. I went one day to ask his advice regarding 
 the allotments I had recently started, when 
 the conversation branched off. He asked me to 
 take into my household a housekeeper and assis- 
 tant. He told me their sad story, which was that 
 of so many thousands — a family utterly ruined 
 by the vice of the head of it." 
 
 " T\^at were theii' names ? " said Pod. 
 
 "Mrs. Parkhouse was the name of the house- 
 keeper ; Miss Maunder was the name of her assis- 
 tant. In due Gom'se they arrived. "When I saw 
 Mrs. Parkhouse, or more properly Miss, as she 
 had never been married, I found her a very 
 superior person ; but Clara was a bright, beauti- 
 ful girl of eighteen, whose presence seemed to
 
 140 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 lighten up the old vicarage with a gleam of sun- 
 shine that seemed to turn all she touched to gold, 
 like the bright rays of the sun falling on the trees 
 of the forest, turning them to a living gold, and 
 adding a new beauty to the waving boughs." 
 
 Mary looked at Henry with a meanmg glance 
 of interest and amazement. Hem-y seemed quite 
 absorbed, but when Cyrus made a half turn 
 to Mary, he elevated his eyebrows and slightly 
 nodded. The face of Silas showed no emotion, 
 but his li^DS twitched once or twice. 
 
 '* In a very short time Clara left under very dis- 
 agreeable circumstances ; and on my interrogating 
 Mrs. Parkhouse about the matter, she showed great 
 confusion. I tried to get her to speak, but could 
 not, so I led the conversation to her past life, 
 feeling sure I must obtain the information I sought 
 in an indnect manner. I was not disappointed, 
 and heard as well the story of her life. There 
 lives at about five or six miles fi'om Littledale a 
 Mr. Gabriel St. John, whose father had a steward 
 named Jacob Penny. His son quarrelled with 
 the steward; but John Penny, Jacob's son, was 
 led into all sorts of vice and extravagance by
 
 LITTLEDALE. 141 
 
 Gabriel, who is now the squire of Stratton. She 
 also happened to mention the name of the first 
 Mr. St. John. It was Isadore Percy." 
 
 Silas Pod's chair became very uncomfortable ; 
 he wiiggled on the seat uneasily. 
 
 " Gabriel married and cast John adrift ; but 
 John contrived to lay his hand on some papers, 
 which he intrusted to the care of his sister, 
 Eunice Penny, a governess in Salisbm-y. John's 
 extravagance had reduced her to become teacher 
 in the school where she was once a iDuxoil. She 
 was, I have heard, very beautiful. John returned 
 with a London lawyer to get possession of them 
 again; she told him they were burnt." 
 
 '' That London lawyer was my father," said 
 Henry. 
 
 Cyi-us started. "I know they were not burnt," 
 said Cyrus, resuming his narrative. " Eunice took 
 them to Stratton Manor, but was insulted by 
 Mrs. St. John, who, knowing her husband's life 
 had been anything but correct, imagined the worst 
 when a beautiful stranger asked to see him in 
 private. Eunice fainted, and by the time she 
 recovered, the servants had gathered enough to
 
 142 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 hear there was a robbery. One of them going 
 out taxed the fly-man with the same, who drove 
 off. When Eunice had recovered and explained 
 her mission, the fly was nowhere to be found. 
 When traced to SaHsbm-y, the man denied all 
 knowledge of the papers that had been left in 
 the fly. Eunice in course of time married Squire 
 Maunder, of Littledale, who drank the most 
 of his property, and gambled away the rest. By 
 some strange coincidence the papers came into 
 his hands. His wife obtained possession of them 
 and gave them to Mrs. Parkhouse, who, by her 
 request, gave them to Matthew. The two sons 
 of Maunder were apprenticed to Matthew Elgood, 
 and work with him now. The daughter Clara, 
 since she left the vicarage, is with her brothers. 
 I saw her at the window as I left Littledale yester- 
 day morning." Cyrus blushed as he acknowledged 
 the fact. 
 
 Mary rose ; her husband opened the door, and 
 she went out. The three gentlemen drew nearer 
 the table. 
 
 " I thought, fi'om the name being the same 
 Mrs. Parkhouse mentioned to me, there might be 
 some connection," said Cyrus.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 143 
 
 ^' It was a guess, but a correct one," said 
 Henry. '' My father was the London lawyer, but 
 he always thought the i^apers were burnt. But I 
 can fill up a space you could not in the narrative. 
 ^Mien the fly-man drove off, he took a tui'n in the 
 road not towards Sahsbui-y. When his horse was 
 tired, he put it up at a pubhc -house, where, on enter- 
 ing the only room for customers — it was a poor 
 wayside inn — he found a gentleman, at least a 
 person well-dressed, who invited him to diinh. 
 Drink loosed his tongue : he told his wrongs. 
 Maunder — for it must have been he — ordered more 
 di'ink, and finally left the man asleep with his head 
 on the table. He then went and took the papers 
 out of the fly, paid the reckoning, and departed on 
 his horse. 
 
 "Many years after this, my father was one 
 day surprised by a call fi'om two persons — one a 
 person very over-dressed, the social status of whom 
 there could be no doubt of ; the other a man with 
 a bloated, dissipated face, who asked him if he had 
 not been inquiring at a certain celebrated firm of 
 solicitors. My father was sm-prised ; asked what 
 business it was of theirs. The man put his finger
 
 144 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 to his nose, and said, 'I'll do more for you than 
 they can ; can't we, Sarah ? ' Sarah, as she was 
 called, nodded. * I must have money down,' added 
 the stranger. My father thought they were a pair 
 of swindlers. The man smelt of brandy, and the 
 w^oman I leave to your imagination." 
 
 (Cyrus did think that if Clara was like her 
 mother, what must that man's taste be like who 
 could neglect her for such a creature ! ) 
 
 " ' What have you got to say ? ' said he shortly. 
 " * Ain't you bin inquiring for Hisidoor St. 
 John, and can't we sell papers to tell'ee ? Say 'ow 
 much,' said the person addressed as Sarah. 
 
 " * If you have any information I am willing to 
 pay,' answered my father, ' but the papers must be 
 left at my solicitors'.' 
 
 **The man whistled and the woman winked. 
 * They hain't no use to you, for Bill Simonds, 
 
 my brother, says that ' The man touched her 
 
 arm ; she got red and stammered. 
 
 *' * Tell you what,' said the man, * the papers in 
 question will put you in possession of what you 
 want, if they were burnt, not unless. You thought 
 they was burnt once.'
 
 LITTLEDALE. 145 
 
 " The man looked at a picture in the room mth 
 apparent interest. My father gave him another 
 look, Tvhen he perceived that a nameless something 
 told he had been different once ; he looked at the 
 picture Tvith an eye of a person understanding such 
 things. The Tvoman got up. There was a pencil 
 and paper and writing materials on the table ; she 
 scribbled a line and tossed to my father, who took 
 it up. It ran, ' £50 to me and them's yourn.' The 
 *me' was doubly underHned. 
 
 ** The man turned and said, ' Any bid ? ' The 
 woman put her finger on her lips. 
 
 "My father felt sure they were a couple of 
 impostors, so he shortly added, ' Yes. If you don't 
 both go at once I shall send for the police.' 
 
 '' The woman left on the table an address, also 
 in pencil, of a would-be fashionable street. 
 
 "My father called on the solicitors next day, 
 ascertained that they had a youth in their employ 
 called William Simonds, who (the firm having heard 
 what my father said) was promptly kicked out. 
 Father was retm-ning home, when in front of his 
 own door he saw, evidently on the watch, the man 
 who had caUed on him. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 " * Tell you what ; say iG500 and you shall have 
 them, and Sally into the hargain.' 
 
 " My father stared ; such treachery he could 
 hardly conceive. 
 
 ^^'WhenshaUIcaU?' 
 
 " My father turned away with such a gesture of 
 loathing that the man seemed abashed. 
 
 *' My father's inquiries at the addi'ess left by 
 the woman brought nothing to light, except Sarah 
 with a black eye and half-em^Dty gin-bottle. She 
 was very voluble, but incoherent ; offered any sum 
 of money to any one who would tell who split on 
 Bill Simonds, who if he warn't her brother what's 
 the odds to any one ? But she would pay Jimmy 
 out before she'd done with him ; he was gone and 
 left her a wrong address, no use to no one. But 
 her drunken mood changed and she became 
 maudlin, and, putting the scrap of paper in my 
 father's hand, said, * Take it if you want it.' Then 
 she got uproarious. My father went home and 
 thought no more of the matter. 
 
 *'Some time afterwards, he was looking out some 
 old clothes to give away, and in the pocket of an old 
 waistcoat he found a hole. Tracing with his fingers
 
 LITTLEDALE. 147 
 
 the edge of the binding, something crackled. He 
 drew it out. It was the scrap the drunken woman 
 had given him ; he had unconsciously taken it 
 and put it in his waistcoat pocket. He recognized 
 it by a blot which had been wiped off with the 
 fingers in the form of a V, instead of blotting-paper 
 being used in the usual way. The direction was — 
 
 *' — Maunder, 
 
 *' The Grange, 
 
 *' Littledale, 
 
 " He sent a clerk down to make inquiries, who 
 found the Grange was to let; that it had been 
 owned by a Mr. Maunder, who was dead ; in fact, 
 he had been drowned a week or two before. The 
 whole of the goods had been seized and sold by 
 auction. 
 
 " How my father came to know of the fly trans- 
 action I know not, except that he related it one 
 day, and on my asking him he said, ' The person 
 who told me did so under the pledge I would 
 conceal his name. I shall do so still, although he 
 is dead.' " 
 
 " The thing for us to do," said Silas, as soon
 
 148 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 as Henry had finished, ''is to get hold of Matthew, 
 and induce him to show us the papers." 
 
 "You will not do that very easily," replied 
 Cyrus ; " he is going to keep them till James 
 Maunder is twenty-one." 
 
 '' We don't want to steal them," said Henry 
 angrily. 
 
 " No," said Cyrus ; " but Matthew, with all his 
 goodness, is ignorant on some points, and he hopes 
 that in some mysterious way the papers will give 
 back to the children the inheritance that their 
 father wasted. Wherever there is ignorance there 
 is superstition, and Matthew, in company with a 
 larger portion of the population than you could 
 conceive possible, thinks opening anything when 
 a person is exactly twenty-one is sure to put all 
 things right for them." 
 
 *' I don't understand exactly," said Pod. " But 
 is Matthew in business still ? " 
 
 "Yes, he is; he has just enlarged his premises," 
 said Cyrus. 
 
 " Then I shall go to Littledale and try to 
 get the i)ai3ers, or a sight of them, within twenty- 
 four hours. I am very doubtful of their value, 
 but still it would be as well."
 
 LITTLEDALE. 149 
 
 "But can you leave youi* business?" asked 
 Henry. 
 
 " I shall start on Friday — that is to-morrow 
 night. I shall make arrangements with youi* old 
 clerk Starks ; he will take anything that comes to 
 hand till I come back." 
 
 Cyrus broke in by saying, *'Had I not better 
 come with you ? " To which Silas repHed — 
 
 "You can, if you can get Mrs. Thompson 
 to put off the christening. Go and ask her; I 
 should much like your company." 
 
 The door closed on the vicar. 
 
 Silas then said to Hemy, "Do you think he 
 has proposed to the girl ? " 
 
 "No," answered Henry, "because he came 
 away. If he had he would have stuck there." 
 
 " Then," said Pod, " I am going to do him a 
 service ; but I doubt his being properly thankful. 
 I mean to try and make him give her up. There 
 were several points in his story hung fire. Fii'stly, 
 what was the end of the dissipated John Penny ? 
 Secondly, what is the connection between Matthew 
 Elgood and the Maunders ? Thirdly, why did 
 Clara return to Littledale ? though that's not much
 
 150 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 to US, except it was through that and Cyrus's 
 im]3rudence we heard the story." 
 
 " What imprudence do you mean, Silas ? " 
 *'He ! he ! he ! " laughed the lawyer. "Don't 
 you see that was the unpleasant story that got about 
 — ' Clara left in a very unpleasant manner ' ? I took 
 it down, it was so amusing, There is no harm in 
 Mr. Clark at all, but he is rather easily led." 
 " I shall speak to him as a friend." 
 "And do him the worst turn you ever did in 
 your life. Don't suggest things ; half tbe evil 
 in life arises from suggestions." 
 
 Steps were heard in the dining-room. 
 " Well," said his host, " what luck ? " 
 " Mary and baby both gone to bed." 
 But the next morning brought the requii'ed 
 permission. 
 
 The evening train carried the Kev. Cyrus Clark 
 and his companion towards Littledale. The night 
 was dark ; sparks from the engine flew past. The 
 night closed blacker and blacker; neither felt 
 inclined for conversation. Silas dropped asleep. 
 Cyrus looked from the window into the night; 
 he felt as if he was going he knew not whither.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 151 
 
 The lights of to^ms appeared and were passed in 
 the darkness. His eyes got confused ; he fancied 
 he was he knew not where. Faces looked at him 
 and passed on the line — those he had known and 
 half forgotten, then those he knew in later years. 
 By-and-by the face of Clara looked on him. She 
 seemed to come nearer ; he tried to clasp the loved 
 form, when it changed to a mermaid, half woman, 
 half fish. He felt the slimy tail with a shudder, 
 and he awoke to outward things. Had he been 
 asleep or not ? Silas was fast asleep opposite. 
 He began to wonder what would be the next 
 thing that would happen to him. He looked at the 
 cushions and boards of the opposite side of the 
 carriage-, and he saw his own heart in the semi- 
 darkness more clearly than he had yet done. He felt 
 what it was that was taking him back once more so 
 quickly. It was the hope of seeing again a beloved 
 form. Yes ! He determined to strike at once, but 
 if he were too precipitate he might ruin his own 
 cause. He might be accepted for his wealth and 
 position. 
 
 Still the train sped on. Twelve o'clock struck, 
 and the reflection that it brought another day to
 
 152 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 the sum of those left behind never to be recalled, 
 turned his reflections to another channel. What 
 are we, fellow dweller on the earth ? A little 
 washed-up drif tweed, that will soon be carried 
 off by the ocean that so mysteriously rolls closer 
 and closer, each wave of which moves with a force 
 we are ignorant of, both as to its purpose and 
 motion.
 
 CHAPTEK XL 
 
 Edward St. John was obliged to go into mourning 
 for his brother, and he disliked it. It was to him 
 such utter hypocrisy, that he recoiled from it. He 
 and Isadore had not met for years, and now he was 
 about to be put into his brother's place, to be the 
 coming squire, instead of a yoimger son. How- 
 ever, there was one good thing — he would have 
 an increased allowance. 
 
 Gabriel did not take the fact of his eldest son's 
 death nearly so easy. He had loved the elder. 
 There was a sort of dash about Isadore that 
 Edward lacked ; but, then, if Edward took up a 
 thing he usually carried it through, and only those 
 who have lived with dilatory people can teU the hate 
 they bear to those who are not dilatory. Gabriel 
 did not hate Edward ; he only tolerated him.
 
 154 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 So Edward went into mourning ; but before he 
 bought the bulk of his gloves, etc., he inquired 
 for the oldest inhabitant in the drapery line to 
 deal with. He found on inquiry that at Little- 
 dale was a dealer who knew every one's business, 
 was sixty-three, and very much given to gossip. 
 Edward went and discovered that he remembered 
 John Penny very well, and, on a little pumping, 
 Jacob also ; that Jacob died suddenly, and there 
 had been unpleasantness at Stratton Manor with 
 John. Beyond this he could not be got to speak. 
 
 Edward determined to seek further, but before 
 doing so he thought, *' I will try at home." So the 
 next morning he began the attack at breakfast. 
 
 " You were teUing me the other day, father, 
 it was fitting I looked to things more. I have 
 looked, and in some of the leases I find the name 
 of Jacob Penny as steward. Was he any relation 
 to John Penny you so kindly kept on as under- 
 keeper when he was no good ? " 
 
 Memory opened a very uncomfortable leaf for 
 Gabriel to look at, but he tried to tui'n it over, as 
 he usually did his difficulties. 
 
 "Yes; he was his son. I tried to make the
 
 LITTLEDALE. 155 
 
 young man steady when I knew him, many years 
 ago, but he left Stratton." 
 
 *' Then he was never steward ? " 
 
 *' No, he was not. His father died. After the 
 old man was dead his precious son came to me 
 to ask for money down for a great discovery 
 he pretended he had made. I sent him flying. 
 Six months afterwards his sister, a very pretty 
 gu'l, came. Your poor dear mother and she got 
 quarrelling like women will, and the girl fainted 
 or pretended to faint. When she came to, no one 
 could make anything of the matter. The fly-man 
 had di'iven off. She said she had left a parcel of 
 papers in the fly; di'iver said she didn't, and I 
 could not tell which was right." 
 
 " Did not old Jacob tell you, then, of the 
 papers ?" 
 
 " No. For a silly reason, he chose to be very 
 high and haughty before he died. We only spoke 
 on matters of business for some time." 
 
 "Do you think anything was taken out of the 
 deed chest ? " 
 
 " No, no, my boy ; I always kept the key of 
 that chest."
 
 156 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 " Was there any other place you know of ? " 
 
 *'Yes; but it was in the drawing-room, and 
 when I found it, it was empty." 
 
 '* I should have thought that it would have 
 contained something." 
 
 '* Then you would have thought wrongly, for I 
 looked with the greatest care and found nothing. 
 You can look, if you Hke, to-morrow." 
 
 " Why not to-day ? " 
 
 Gabriel sighed. The leaves of the past would 
 be stirred by the sight; but the energy of his 
 younger son carried all before it. 
 
 They ascended to the drawing-room. The third 
 rose from the top in the panelling of the mantle- 
 piece brought a piece of the marble out with it, 
 disclosing a hole about eight inches square and 
 two feet deep. Edward thrust in his hand. He 
 felt nothing ; but, striking a match, he observed 
 the joints were not very closely put together. A 
 piece of paper was put in apparently to fill a joint. 
 Edward pulled it out. It was a rude drawing, 
 faded with age. As he looked at it Gabriel sighed, 
 and thought he would now be at peace, as a further 
 search revealed nothing more. Far from it; an
 
 LITTLEDALE. 157 
 
 adjournment ^as moved to the library by Edward, 
 to elucidate matters still fui-ther. 
 
 When they were once more seated, he produced 
 the two documents he had found in the chest and 
 their translations. As he read them Gabriel 
 listened with a listless air ; but as his son pro- 
 ceeded, he became intensely interested. He seemed 
 a new man. He was taken aback when Edward 
 told him the memorable conversation with John 
 Penny. 
 
 Edward now took fi'om the table the paper he 
 had found, but to his sui'prise the lines were gone ; 
 it was perfectly blank. A closer inspection showed 
 nothing more. Although it was warm weather, a 
 fire bm-nt in the grate. The piece of blank paper 
 was carefully placed on the mantle-shelf. 
 
 Gabriel said at length, " What more can you 
 do?" 
 
 " Why, go to-morrow to all the churches and 
 get the cei-tificates of the bu'th, death, and mar- 
 riage of the members of the family. From the 
 time of James the Second we have been here ; 
 ever since then can be no difficulty." 
 
 "Except about the second son's issue," said 
 Gabriel. "I am not hopeful in the matter."
 
 158 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 "Well, father, I have thought of this matter 
 before. I cannot go to law except with your money, 
 so we must work together, unless I can get Smith 
 to advance a thousand pounds or so." 
 
 **You certainly are very foolish indeed if you 
 think landed estates of eight thousand pounds a 
 year can be fought for with a thousand pounds. 
 Find out if there is a good chance, and, if so, I 
 will sink or swim with you." 
 
 Edward's eyes were moist ; he comprehended 
 the wrench to his father fi'om his quiet life to the 
 turmoil of a contested title and estate. He grasped 
 the old man's hand, and was about to speak, when 
 he pointed in astonishment to the chimney-piece. 
 The lines had re-ap])earecl on the x)ai:)er ! Gabriel 
 smiled a smile of superior wisdom. 
 
 " It is sympathetic writing," he said. " Hold it 
 to the fire." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " Writing that only shows with the heat. There 
 was a fire in the drawing-room yesterday to air the 
 room ; I thought it smelt damp. The concealed 
 chamber got hot, and held the heat longer, being 
 shut in."
 
 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 159 
 
 The rude dra-raig was a mere sketch roughly 
 executed. Gabriel sat do^vn ; he was thinking of 
 the futui-e. He pictured himseK a power in the 
 
 land, his son a county member. Edward suggested 
 a turn till dinner-time and departed. Both were so 
 excited they felt a pause necessary.
 
 160 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Gabriel still sat in silence. The solving of the 
 riddle of the sympathetic writing set his brain in a 
 whirl. He thought it a lucky omen. He had never 
 been a man of very deei3 religious thought, conse- 
 quently he was superstitious. When looking at the 
 many examples that history furnishes, one fact 
 stands out with dreadful prominence, that when a 
 nation or a man have no longer a real, burning faith, 
 the ashes of superstition still linger. The noble of 
 the Middle Ages, finding that every one he seemed 
 to come in contact with had his price, brought his 
 soul to the awful belief that the Almighty could be 
 induced by gold to give him a favourable reception. 
 When Moses was on the Mount, the faith of the 
 Israelites died and became ashes. The calf of gold 
 was their god, they were compelled to drink it in 
 their water; and ever since the children of this world 
 have been drinking water, not as it descends from 
 the mountain in bubbling springs bright from the 
 hand of God, but mingled with the sordid golden 
 dust of human superstitions. 
 
 Gabriel was above what he called the super- 
 stition of the many, but in his heart no peasant, 
 however ignorant, was more affected by omens and
 
 LITTLEDALE. 161 
 
 signs. The dark superstition spread over the 
 fairest part of his soul like the black Caaba stone 
 at Mecca, that overshadows some of the fairest 
 spots of the earth, trampling all underfoot. 
 "After the Turk grows no grass." Beneath his 
 sway the gi-and forest and beauty of the harvest die 
 away, and are seen no more ; the earth can no 
 longer render her grateful incense. 
 
 Edward walked out. He went again to the 
 churchyard, and gave the sexton money to cut 
 away the weeds and clear the gravestone of John 
 Penny. He lingered near the stone and mused — 
 " My bond of union to John began in a lie — will it 
 ever prosper ? " but inheriting one quality of his 
 father's mind, he turned over the leaf and looked 
 forward. The village appeared smaller than usual. 
 His mind filled with ambition ; in the distance he 
 saw a great advance to wealth and honour. He 
 then thought of Clara ; John's grave had suggested 
 the idea. He turned into the road. "Yes," he 
 thought, "if she and her brothers help me, they 
 shall be subsidized." He had a vague idea she 
 cared for him. She could not, he argued, expect 
 to be a lord's wife ; she could have And then 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 his thoughts became blacker ; but he put them 
 aside for the present, and whilst thus lingering 
 and thinking, the dinner bell rang. He retraced 
 his steps. This time he was careful not to look at 
 the gravestone as he passed. 
 
 He found his father more sprightly than he had 
 known him for years. The old man amused him, 
 and he felt a thrill of what he thought was affection 
 cross his mind; but it was only thanks for the present 
 gratification. The meal was finished in silence ; 
 the presence of the servants forbade confidential 
 conversation. With the dessert the two men drew 
 nearer the fire. 
 
 "What do you think? " at length said Gabriel. 
 
 *'I think that time is pressing, and the sooner 
 we begin the better." 
 
 " No," said his father. " Let me advise a little 
 caution. We will drive over and buy some boots of 
 the interesting cobblers. It may smooth the way." 
 
 And with that nothing more was said on the 
 engrossing subject till the next morning.
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 It was a bright morning; the dew hung on the 
 grass in diamond drops of resplendent beauty. 
 James took down the shutters. Eobert was 
 abeady cleaning the stock, and business soon 
 commenced. Various customers came in and were 
 suited. 
 
 " We must get more stock," said Eobert. 
 
 " Yes, we are running low. What do you think 
 our venture will be this time ? " 
 
 '' Can't teU." 
 
 " One -third. We have all but money enough. 
 I counted it last night — nearly fifty pounds." 
 
 Matthew came in and looked round, jpleased 
 at the diligence displayed. 
 
 "Do you know," said he, ''I shall go to Salis- 
 bury to-morrow ; fi'esh stock is awaitinc? me there."
 
 16i LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Both brothers looked downcast. 
 " We hoped to share it, Matthew, with you," 
 said James, as the eldest ; "we have nearly fifty 
 pounds." 
 
 " Silly boys, so you shall ; but another stroke 
 of business awaits you two. I have made out a 
 list of the neighbouring villages ; they are six in 
 number. You shall go to three each every fort- 
 night. You shall draw lots, because you will reap 
 an extra allowance on what you sell on these expe- 
 ditions." 
 
 Matthew wrote the names on slips of paper; 
 each drew three, but it so ha]3pened a mutual 
 exchange gave to James three on the north side, 
 Eobert three on the south. 
 
 " You will walk the first trip and carry no stock, 
 but merely distribute handbills stating when you 
 will be there in future." 
 
 The door opened and Clara came in. She looked 
 more beautiful than she had ever done. She had 
 awoke to the fact that she was a woman ; she had 
 plucked the tree of knowledge. New ideas, thoughts, 
 and sensations swept the chords of her soul like the 
 fingers of the wind drawing a wild weird melody
 
 LITTLEDALE. 165 
 
 from the ^olian harp. She seemed endowed with 
 new vitaHty ; apparently the tree of hfe stood before 
 her ready to pluck. Oh, woman ! is it strange that 
 thy power is almost omnipotent ; that the enchant- 
 ment of thy eyes should cause the strong man to 
 melt, the determined man often to become as clay 
 in the hands of the potter ? 
 
 All three looked up. Matthew cast his eyes over 
 the nearly perfect form with rapture. He thought of 
 another she so resembled, and rebellious thoughts 
 of a blighted life passed through his brain, and for 
 nearly the first time Matthew sighed "It might 
 have been," in the instant that Eunice flashed 
 before his mental vision ; but a childlike faith cast 
 out the spirit of discontent, and, turning round, he 
 smilingly asked what she wanted. 
 
 "Well, Matthew, I want you to go and see 
 Mrs. Parkhouse. She is much upset. Her brother, 
 whom she has not heard of for years, wants her 
 to go and live with him." , 
 
 "Well, I will go to her; but she must wait 
 till Mr. Clark comes back, and who knows when 
 that may be ? " 
 
 Clara's colour rose at the name of the Kev.
 
 166 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Cyrus. She knew not why; she certainly did not 
 care for him, except that he was superior to those 
 she usually came in contact with. The grace of 
 a cultured mind sat on him. The attentions of 
 Edward St. John had not been of the same sort. 
 In the first place, he had always been careful "not 
 to commit himself." The interviews that had 
 frightened Jane Parkhouse had been chiefly with 
 reference to Clara's past life, which he had skilfully 
 drawn from her nearly entire. She had an uneasy 
 feeling he was not talking to her for herself, but 
 with an ulterior object. When with him she 
 always felt as if with a master. Still there had 
 been sufficient ambiguity in his speech to be 
 interpreted by a very sanguine hearer as the con- 
 versation of one who desii'ed a nearer and dearer 
 name. Now, with Cyrus there was nothing of 
 this. There was no mistaking the light of those 
 earnest eyes, even in their greatest self-abasement ; 
 and when he described an event from history, his 
 face lighted up with enthusiasm or his voice 
 quivered with the achievements described or the 
 pathos of the story. Still he had not filled the 
 heart of his hearer. He had only stirred the waters.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 167 
 
 but he had stirred them deeply and given new life, 
 as the heavenly bodies draw the water of the 
 ocean with their mighty power, and wake in the 
 heaving breast of the element emotions never again 
 to sleep in perfect repose ; but the river that rushes 
 down within its depths mingles and becomes a 
 part of itself, never more to be separated, while 
 the orbs of heaven still remain distant and some- 
 times invisible. 
 
 It has been often observed that the more 
 impetuous of the parents are resembled most by 
 their children ; and as Eunice Maunder had 
 gradually faded away, the last of her children 
 drew a larger portion of her mind and character 
 from her father. Clara inherited the inflexible 
 determination of her father, mingled with his 
 fertility of resource, but overshadowed by a cer- 
 tain sensuous love of self and ease. As each of 
 these characteristics came to the surface in turn, 
 it would have given any observant parent cause 
 for fear and anxious thought. Not so Matthew; 
 he imagined that the resemblance of body carried 
 an undoubted affinity of mind. He invested his 
 dead love with all virtues, and looked at the
 
 1Q8 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 daughter as the living image in mind and bod}'. 
 No doubt resemblance of body does argue an 
 undoubted resemblance of mind. The ingredients 
 possibly are the same, but the proportions may 
 be different. Every virtue and its corresponding 
 vice shade into one another by insensible gradations, 
 when the character receives a bias in either direc- 
 tion. Every vice may be shaded into its correspond- 
 ing virtue by those who rivet up their armour with 
 resolution and follow their great leader in the dust 
 and heat of the battle of life, and, disregarding the 
 standards of wealth and praise of men that rise 
 and fall with the hands that hold them, *' follow 
 where the white plume leads on the way," like the 
 Huguenots at the battle of Ivry. 
 
 Clara was by no means pleased at the change 
 from the vicarage to Matthew's house. We all like 
 a home bright with taste and beauty, and the vases 
 on the library mantlepiece, full of beautiful waving 
 grasses, hung with trailing pieces of briony and its 
 scarlet berries, was a good deal better to look at 
 than the two brass candlesticks, flanked on one 
 side by the box Matthew kept his tobacco in and 
 two of his pipes, on the other side by a piece of china
 
 LITTLEDALE. 169 
 
 representing a shepherd and shepherdess, resplen- 
 dent with gilt lines and shades of red distributed 
 in an impartial manner all over them. In the 
 centre a cheap American clock, that ticked loudly, 
 brought back painfully the memory of the marble 
 timepiece sm-mountsd by a bronze figure of Time 
 ploughing. Clara hoped she would have to go 
 back to see Jane ; and if she did, she thought, she 
 would not return in a hurry to the china daubs, 
 brass candlesticks, and vulgar clock. The mantle- 
 pieces, of course, were on a par with the other 
 arrangements of the two houses. So, looking any- 
 thing but satisfied, she still remained at the door, 
 while James and Eobert went on arranging the 
 stock of boots and shoes. Matthew took up his hat 
 and departed. James said, as soon as he was gone — 
 
 " Good news, Clara ! We are going to be gi'eat 
 wholesale men, and supply all the county with 
 shoes." 
 
 With the hopefulness of youth, he looked at the 
 summit of the mountain of success, bright with the 
 rays of hope, shining Hke the top of Mont Blanc 
 in white glory ; he forgot the crevasses and toil of 
 ascension.
 
 170 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 *' Yes. I am going to start to-morrow to leave 
 bills and announcements," said his brother. 
 
 " But you can't carry stock on your back. You 
 will want a carriage to take it in, and then I can go 
 with you sometimes." 
 
 " Yes, miss ; but you must carry a good big 
 parcel in your lap, and sit on another. I can't 
 waste room, or else my little brother w^ill sell more 
 than I, and that will never do," he said with a 
 smile. 
 
 " ' Little brother's ' going to old Bates's with his 
 shoes; so good morning," saidEobert, and went out. 
 
 Clara pouted ; her dreams were rudely broken. 
 The idea of her, Clara, nursing boots and shoes ! 
 Besides, they smelt anything but nice. But having 
 an idea she wanted to carry out, she said nothing. 
 
 " James, do you know Cassy Bright ? " 
 
 *' Yes, I do. What then?" 
 
 " She is going away, and wants a place for Jane, 
 her niece, a little brown giii that binds for the 
 shop." 
 
 "Well, what then?" 
 
 "Well, I thought it would be a good plan to 
 have her here. I could teach her "
 
 LITTLEDALE. 171 
 
 " To be idle and do nothing. Not a good idea ; 
 Jane is very industrious at present." 
 
 "No, Mr. Saucebox; teach her what is wanted 
 to be done in a house. She could help me, and in 
 the evenings do binding, as she does now. Jane 
 told me she couldn't hear of a place ; no one would 
 have her. She knows nothing except how to bind 
 shoes and peel potatoes." 
 
 James paused, and thought the household 
 could not go on very long as it was. A woman 
 came in once a week ; all the other arrangements 
 were the joint productions of Matthew, his brother, 
 and himself. An extended business meant no time 
 for necessary household arrangements. 
 
 " I will ask Matthew when he comes back. Jane 
 wouldn't want much wages," he remarked half to 
 himself. 
 
 " That's what I hate ; always money, money, 
 money ! Matthew's as bad as you are ; every penny 
 skinned and schemed over. If you are doing so 
 well, what's the use ? Money means enjoyment." 
 ** The spending of it, I suppose ? " 
 "No, I don't. The chimney-piece in the 
 parlour is enough to make one sick, with the old
 
 172 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 clock that ticks so loud, dirty pipes, and trumpery 
 candlesticks that have to be cleaned every other 
 day. I should like vases for flowers or grass." 
 
 ^' And a footman to di'ess them every day, like 
 Stratton Manor." 
 
 ** No, not like that. Unlike a pig-sty." 
 " Kobert and I are happy in the pig-sty." 
 " So you may be ; you have never seen 
 anything better." 
 
 James looked hurt and very grave, but the 
 thought that he had somewhat contributed by his 
 retorts to her petulance made him hold his tongue. 
 Silence ensued. A slight noise at the doorway 
 caused them both to look up for a customer, but no 
 customer appeared. 
 
 " Come, Clara, don't be cross. We'll have the 
 vases some day, and fill them with flowers fresh and 
 bright, nice wild flowers and waving grass, and the 
 clock dressed prettty with cut paper falling over it. 
 I should not like to part with the shell on the top, 
 because it once belonged to mother ; but money is 
 very hard to get, and harder to keep. What were I 
 and Eobert, what should we all be now, if it was 
 not for Matthew ? He took us and treated us like
 
 LITTLEDALE. 173' 
 
 a " — "father" be was going to say, but tbe memory 
 of bis father made him pause and alter the word 
 to — " good genius." 
 
 " Well, get him to take Jane and I'll never say 
 any more about the candlesticks. I hope he will 
 soon come. I am tired of waiting ; waiting is such 
 duU work." 
 
 "Yes ; but the Pyramids were built a brick at a 
 time." 
 
 " Oh yes ; there is always some saying to show 
 it is proper I should not have what I want. But, I 
 say, James, try and get Matthew to have Jane. 
 She would be such a help in the house, and I am 
 quite sure Eebecca, who comes once a week, eats 
 enough for a fortnight." 
 
 "No, she doesn't." 
 
 " I say she does." 
 
 " Do you know what she does with it ? " 
 
 " Puts it in her mouth, I suppose." 
 
 " She takes it home to her three little children; 
 she hardly eats anything. One day I found her 
 nearly fainting at the top of the stairs, when she 
 had carried a bucket up to scrub one of the top 
 rooms, so I got it out of her. She had eaten
 
 174 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 nothing all day ; she had saved it all up in a dirty 
 rag to carry home. Well, I told Matthew, and he 
 gave her leave to take all the bits away." 
 
 "Well, there were not many bits, I should 
 think?" 
 
 " No ; but Matthew always makes a lot since. 
 I saw him one night breaking up loaves into pieces 
 and iDutting them in the pan." 
 
 Clara's twisted conscience pricked her; the 
 thought of the three hungry children unfed was an 
 uncomfortable prospect. 
 
 *' Why don't Eebecca go to the Union ? " 
 
 ** Because if she did the guardians would try 
 and find her husband, and put him in prison for 
 deserting his wife and children." 
 
 "I don't want Jane," said Clara, faintly. 
 
 James kissed his sister. She did not smell the 
 leather now; her mind was absorbed in the story 
 she had heard. 
 
 "Don't grieve; I will ask Matthew about Jane." 
 
 " No, you shan't." 
 
 "Yes, I will. Farmer Bates said last week he 
 would take Eebecca to live at the farm, and the 
 children could go to field work ; they are big 
 enough, he says."
 
 LITTLEDALE. 175 
 
 " How nice ! And it will be all right, after all. 
 But you had no business to tell me that dreadful 
 story if all the trouble was over." 
 
 *'I thought worse troubles than even brass 
 candlesticks and dirty pipes on the mantlepiece 
 overtook some people." 
 
 *' And so you meant to humble me." 
 
 James was again silent ; the tone was not 
 encouraging by any means. Clara went back to 
 the despised parlour, and sulkily went on with her 
 work. James's speech was perfect on the house 
 arrangements, but his thoughts took another direc- 
 tion: "Eebecca does take a lot every week; it 
 costs a lot of money. We shall save that now. 
 Jane can bind ; we can pay her for the binding and 
 give her her food ; it will be a great saving. Per- 
 haps she will bind for half price if she lives in the 
 house, and can lend a hand at odd times to cut 
 the cloth into shape for slippers — those are the 
 only things we make now — and then I and Eobert 
 can make at least five more pair a week. Clara 
 always wants to spend money; I and Eobert don't. 
 By the end of the year we shall have nearly a 
 hundred pounds. I wonder if it would be best to
 
 176 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 buy a house ? There is one to be sold in Down 
 Street ; the people pay three and sixpence a week. 
 I dare say I and Bob could get it for ninety pounds, 
 and then old Dick Summers could live there. He 
 pays five shillings where he is now ; I dare say he 
 would pay us five shillings. No fear of the rent ; 
 we could deduct every Saturday, and then he could 
 not row about repair's ; " and a hard smile crossed 
 his face, in which there was no merriment. *' Thir- 
 teen pounds a year for ninety pounds, how prime ! " 
 and with the idea of wealth, harder and more 
 avaricious dreams filled his mind. The way 
 seemed long, but he looked forward with confi- 
 dence and determination ; and in order to shorten 
 the way, he at once overcharged a shiftless neigh- 
 bour a shilling on a pair of boots he sold him. 
 Poor human nature ! the lust of gold soon gains 
 the upper hand, when the citadel of the heart is 
 not held by a higher spirit, who, Hke Ithuriel, can 
 by the touch of his spear put the evil thing to 
 flight. As the customer departed, James thought 
 to himself, "It is not for myself; it is for Eobert 
 and Clara." There is no w^eapon so fatal to truth 
 as self-deception.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 177 
 
 Eobert was in good spii'its ; he had effected a 
 sale and returned empty handed. 
 
 The usual events of the day succeeded one 
 another until after the five o'clock tea. Matthew 
 proposed that the brothers and sister should take 
 a walk. They did so, and on their return Matthew 
 greeted them with a smile of welcome peculiarly 
 bright. Clara went upstah's to pull off her bonnet 
 and jacket. Coming down again, they all went in 
 to sujoper. There a sm-prise awaited them : the 
 parlour was transformed. The clock had a mixture 
 of cut tissue-paper cast round it ; four vases stood 
 on the mantlepiece filled with grass and flowers ; 
 the table-cloth half covering the table showed at 
 the end another over the bare deal, Clara's special 
 abhorrence; three pictures decorated the walls. 
 Even Matthew's case of books looked brighter for 
 these surroundings. Each of those books con- 
 tained a history which, if written, might strike the 
 most careless observer on the highway of life. 
 Some were odd volumes, many owed one of their 
 covers to Matthew's ingenuity, but all looked neat 
 and tidy. Living so many years a solitary Hfe, he 
 had been driven to some resource. In their dog's- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 eared and often soiled pages Matthew had sought, 
 and not in vain, for a better and purer society, 
 among the mighty dead, than the limited choice of 
 Littledale afforded for companionship in the living. 
 In the records of the lives of heroes or martyrs 
 the spirit had gained an additional strength to 
 carry on its purpose from day to day. The petty 
 annoyances of life fell powerless on the man whose 
 spirit, shielded by the mighty dead, defied the 
 shafts of ignorance and pride. 
 
 "You listened," said Clara, and smiled with 
 moist eyes as she remembered her speeches of the 
 morning. 
 
 " Sit down," replied the master of the house. 
 
 Eobert rose to draw the ale, as was usually 
 his custom, when Matthew rang the bell and said, 
 " Sit down." 
 
 The door opened; all raised their eyes, as a 
 maid, small, brown, and rather ordinary looking, 
 came in. Her dress was a combination, not of the 
 rainbow, but the rags of the district; but it was 
 clean, and the brown skin shone through a bright 
 aurora of yellow soap. Her hair, tied in a knot at 
 the back of the head, was neat and tidy. She 
 bore in her hand the jug of ale.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 179 
 
 " Jane Bright ! " burst from the lips of Eobert 
 in surprise. 
 
 James said nothing, but smiled a smile of 
 superior wisdom. 
 
 The supper proceeded. Clara was in ecstasies ; 
 her day-dream had come true. Matthew looked on 
 with a subdued smile, and the whole story came 
 out — that Matthew was at the door when James 
 and Clara were talking. 
 
 After supper James and Robert went into the 
 shop. The house jDroject was discussed with much 
 gusto between them. Clara thanked Matthew 
 in a way that went to his heart ; he felt more than 
 rewarded. She felt she could not sleep till she 
 had made it up with James, so, following him, 
 she found him and Eobert talking louder than they 
 intended in their excitement. Their voices were 
 insensibly raised. 
 
 " I can get thirteen pounds a year for it safe," 
 said James. 
 
 " Yes," said Eobert, without thinking, '' and 
 if Matthew is getting so extravagant we had best 
 look to ourselves indeed." 
 
 Avarice was speedily eating up all their virtues.
 
 180 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Clara turned away; the little altercation of the 
 morning allowed the wedge of discord to enter 
 her soul. 
 
 "Henceforth they can go their way and I 
 mine," she murmured, as she retired to her room. 
 "Let them love their gold and be hajDpy; I do 
 not intend to grovel after them." 
 
 The justness of James's rebukes made her all 
 the more ready to pick a hole in their justice. If 
 the salt that is flung at us touches our sores, 
 we always try and make out those who flung it 
 are more sore than we are. The spirit of the 
 Pharisee is as rampant now as it was eighteen 
 hundred years ago.
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 Joshua Smth sat in his office much the same year 
 after year. The crow's-feet got a Httle deeper ; the 
 hair began to show a sprinkling of silver ; but the 
 fire of his eye was bright as ever, his step as firm. 
 The tin cases increased in number; the names 
 painted on them increased in social importance. 
 He had thriven and looked forward to see his 
 son a gentleman of landed property. The money 
 he had let James Maunder have was not his own, 
 but that of clients ; but he had repaid it aU, and, by 
 the sale of one or two bits of land that ran into that 
 of other owners, had secured a sum of ready money 
 that he tm*ned with i^rofit and expedition. His 
 arena of operations was smaU, but he was thereby 
 enabled to more surely gauge the solvency of those 
 he did business with. He never dabbled in bills
 
 182 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 of sale ; they were too public a mode of transac- 
 tion ; but he did better. He dealt on a new and 
 improved method. The farmers were always in 
 want of money; Joshua would lend small sums 
 on note of hand. He would always leave a balance 
 to be settled, which ended in the profits of a good 
 year being swallowed up to clear the same. He 
 would lend on the security of growing crops. Only 
 one client had ever tried to slip his obligation in 
 the matter. Next day, a letter was posted to the 
 offender, which, by a strange coincidence of course, 
 was unsealed. The postmaster was soon as much 
 at home in the affair as any one. Thence it travelled 
 to the Feathers, was duly discussed, and finally 
 filtered all through the community. The end of 
 it was the offender had to sell off everything ; his 
 creditors had become clamorous, and insisted on 
 being paid. The man was ruined. Joshua bought a 
 part of the stock and took the farm ; put in a man 
 under his thumb, who had to move exactly as 
 Joshua told him. So the loss became a gain. The 
 story at last got wind, and those who had dealings 
 with Joshua were very careful not to offend in a 
 like manner.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 183 
 
 Harold Smith was not tied too closely to the 
 desk. It was not fitting that the future Harold 
 Smith, Esq., of the Grange, and owner of land 
 in the district, should be too closely identified with 
 a rigid attention to the law, so he took his work 
 easily. 
 
 Not so the clerk, Maurice Jones. Joshua kept 
 him tightly to the desk. It was not much trouble, 
 for Maurice had a natural taste for chicanery and 
 intrigue when connected with getting money. He 
 was not absorbed in money, but he saw in it a 
 mighty lever to move the world before him. If 
 Joshua had his ambition, Maurice had his; he 
 looked forward to the time when he might make 
 a grand coup and depart to London, the goal of his 
 ambition, not as a poor clerk, but as a man with 
 money and brains to push his way. He had heard 
 wonderful stories of how men had got on ; but he 
 had seen some who had gone back and returned to 
 their native place beggared in enterprise and purse, 
 and he thought he saw the first quahfication was a 
 sum of money to start with. So he waited and 
 watched. He had quite easily bored a hole in the 
 wall, and in Harold's frequent absences learned
 
 184 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 more by listening than Joshua Tvas aware of, or 
 would have been pleasant. But he never used his 
 knowledge. At most he might have got a few 
 pounds hush-money, and shortly his discharge, 
 when Joshua heard of it. The money would be, 
 but the discharge was not, to his taste. He intended 
 to discharge himself. With that end he always 
 took his money weekly, so that a week's non-receix)t 
 of the same would enable him to snap his fingers 
 at his master. His visits to the Feathers cost him 
 nothing, as he helped to keep the accounts, that is 
 copy them out. Mrs. Tyack trusted nobody with 
 the mani^Dulation of the first copy in the ledger 
 except herself. But Maurice could wiite dunning 
 letters in a legal form, and frighten a contumacious 
 customer, which letters John Tyack always attri- 
 buted to a misconstruction of orders. He never 
 wrote or ordered them to be written, which every 
 one knew to be true, as Mrs. Tyack managed the 
 books and wore the garment supposed to belong 
 to the sterner sex. Maurice had also other means of 
 adding to his wages. Did a neighbour wish a will 
 made, who so ready as Jones to draw it up ? His 
 fee was smaller than his master's and his reticence 
 unimpeachable.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 185 
 
 With regard to the softer sex he was quite as 
 useful. Several swains inclined to shilly-shally 
 with the question of marriage had their ideas 
 much quickened hy the timely visits of Maui'ice, 
 who brought them to the i^oint in a very satis- 
 factory manner. The happy husband was some- 
 times sui-prised to find that a certain five-pound 
 note lasted no time ; but other afiaii's usually 
 supervened, and no inquiry ever quite eHcited the 
 fact that he had paid the costs of his own coercion. 
 
 Once or twice he tried to get an introduction 
 and footing in houses where he had been useful to 
 the mistress, but invariably failed. Neither the 
 man nor the woman cared to have an everyday 
 remembrance of the past brought before them. A 
 trial of a higher tone failed altogether to bring 
 the desired event to pass, as it was invariably the 
 case that past services were denied or ignored ; so 
 he hved a rather lonely Hfe. People only tolerated 
 him when they wanted him. As he was alone in 
 the world, he missed the healthy influence of family 
 life and afiection. He saw only the worst side of 
 human natm-e, but he did not fall into the mistake 
 of thinking it was all bad; he only saw that the
 
 186 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 evil side of human nature is more easily moved 
 than the good, and determined to use it as a lever 
 to move the obstacles from his path and advance 
 his own interests. 
 
 He had frequently tried to get on more intimate 
 terms with James and Kohert, but their frugal 
 habits and quiet mode of life frustrated his efforts. 
 They neither required to get out of scrapes nor 
 borrow money, so Mam'ice was, to use his own 
 expression, '' done." He still kept up an acquaint- 
 ance with Matthew, his old landlord, and very 
 judiciously called but seldom. He suddenly be- 
 thought himself that he had not done so lately, so 
 on the next morning he presented himself at the 
 boot and shoe depot. 
 
 The bow windows looked bright and clean as 
 they always did, and he found James ready to 
 attend to a customer, which Maurice perceiving, 
 feigned a device to look at a pair of boots. James's 
 dislike of the man rather softened under the 
 influence of a possible sale, so, reaching down a 
 pair of boots, Maurice proceeded to try them on. 
 
 "These are really the best thing we have at 
 present, Mr. Jones. We shall have a fresh supply
 
 LITTLEDALE. 187 
 
 in a day or two, but seasoned goods are best ; they 
 last longer and keep in their proper shape so much 
 better." 
 
 '* Yes, I think that pair will do. What is the 
 price?" 
 
 *' Well, they are marked in plain figures 'fifteen 
 shillings ' on the sole ; you can see for yourself." 
 
 "Very well; put them by for me, and I will 
 call for them in the course of the day and pay for 
 them." 
 
 ''Thank you, sir. Anything in slippers to- 
 day?" 
 
 ** No, not to-day ; at least, not at present." 
 
 This conversation was carried on behind a red 
 curtain that separated the customer being fitted 
 from the customer coming to buy. Just then a 
 carriage drove up, and two more customers came in. 
 
 " Go to your other customers," said Maurice. 
 
 James went forward to attend and found two 
 gentlemen. They were Gabriel and Edward St. 
 John. 
 
 "Good day, Mr. Maunder. Can I see Mr. 
 Elgood?" 
 
 " No," said James, " but I can fetch him."
 
 188 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 James departed. Maurice did not ; he was 
 invisible, or nearly so, behind the curtain. James 
 found Matthew at the house of Price, the auctioneer, 
 trying boots on the four little Prices. It was 
 rather a long job; so, leaving James to finish, he 
 returned to the shop, unaware of the listener 
 behind the curtain. 
 
 '' Good day, Mr. Elgood. Will you please send 
 over to Stratton Manor, on Monday morning, some 
 boots and shoes for my son and myself, also a few 
 pau's of footmen's pumps ? " 
 
 *'Yes, sir. What price can I send them 
 at ? " 
 
 " That I leave to you. I am not afraid to be in 
 your hands," said Gabriel, with a pleasant smile 
 and courteous inclination of the head. 
 
 Matthew, much pleased at the new connection 
 (he had never supplied them before), said — 
 
 " Had I not better just measure your foot ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Gabriel, and he sat down on 
 one of the shop chairs. 
 
 Matthew knelt down and took the measure. 
 
 *'I think that was young Maunder I saw just
 
 LITTLEDALE. 189 
 
 " It was, sir." 
 
 "Does he suit you? Is he diligent and 
 careful?" 
 
 " Yes," said Matthew, wondering. 
 
 ''Because I knew his father some years ago 
 and am interested in the family." 
 
 Edward was judiciously silent by agreement. 
 
 "Yes, they are not what they might have 
 expected to be, sir." 
 
 " No ; but they may rise. They have a good 
 friend in you, and teaching them frugality and 
 industry, they may rise to then- i3roper position in 
 life." 
 
 Matthew was filled with a vague hope of he 
 knew not what. Did Mr. Gabriel really come to 
 put forward the suit of his son? Did he favour 
 the project of Edward marrying Clara ? 
 
 " Well, sh% I hope they will always be able to 
 earn a comfortable subsistence, with their mode- 
 rate tastes." 
 
 "Yes. But they may look to something better, 
 I hope, some day. We cannot lose so old and 
 respected a family altogether." 
 
 " If I could see a way to put them forward, I 
 should be glad to embrace the opportunity."
 
 190 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 *^ Can I speak to you privately a minute ? " 
 
 Matthew led the way to the parlour at the back. 
 Edward took possession of the chair, with his back 
 to the red curtain but his face to the shop door to 
 guard against interruption, ignorant of the unseen 
 listener. The parlour door was open, but Gabriel 
 made no motion to shut it. Matthew did not like 
 to ; it seemed like shutting out Edward St. John 
 altogether. 
 
 "You see, Elgood, that very often these old 
 families have papers and documents that, in the 
 hand of a powerful friend, would secure them a 
 portion of their rights, if not all. A lawyer merely 
 looks at them as a possible case to make money 
 of. Now, a friend looks with a better eye. He 
 does not so much look to the costs as to a chance 
 of benefiting those concerned." 
 
 Matthew's brain clouded with anxious thought. 
 He was almost tempted to get the papers he re- 
 membered Eunice had entrusted to his keeping. 
 The tempter saw the puzzled look, and said quite 
 unconcernedly — 
 
 " If you know where there are any, I will look 
 at them for the benefit of James Maunder's family.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 191 
 
 It is, moreoTer, very important it slioiild be done 
 before they are of age, so that steps may be taken 
 in time to give full effect when it arrives." 
 
 These words, accompanied with a persuasive 
 smile, decided Mathew. He said — 
 
 " I have a few papers in my possession, but first 
 I must request you to promise that they shall be 
 left in my care, whatever they may prove to be, at 
 all events for the present." 
 
 "Certainly, Elgood. Your caution does you 
 credit, and I give the promise you wish with the 
 utmost pleasure. What can I want them for ? " 
 
 Matthew went upstairs. Gabriel nodded and 
 looked at Edward, who rubbed his hands with 
 glee. These motions were not lost on Jones, 
 through whose active brain the thought flashed — 
 
 " Of course. Maunder married the sister of the 
 son of St. John's old steward. There was a row 
 about some papers years ago ; they are worth 
 money. Do St. John and his son intend to 
 take them by force ? If so, I shall help Matthew, 
 or be paid for silence. My grand coup has come 
 at last." 
 
 Matthew brought down a small packet, very
 
 192 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 dirty, but neatly tied up. He opened it carefully. 
 The first thing was a list of the St. John property 
 and the value per annum of the leases on the estate. 
 Gabriel trembled with eagerness ; thrice he tried to 
 speak, but could not. At length, in a husky voice 
 of subdued emotion, he said — 
 
 " Could you wait one minute ? I don't feel 
 well. I will go in the open air." 
 
 Gabriel rose to his feet and walked out 
 unsteadily; he could not trust himself to speak, 
 even to his son. He recognized the papers so long 
 lost. If he paid for them, it would cost money. 
 Besides, he felt if they were claimed by the strong 
 arm of the law, the re-possession of them would 
 have a less dubious a^Dpearance. He walked out 
 along the street to the house of the policeman, 
 who lived five doors off. Matthew followed him, 
 wondering why he walked so unsteadily. Edward 
 also went to the door, and spoke to the footman 
 with the horse. 
 
 This was a golden opportunity not to be lost. 
 Maurice, with his boots in his hand, went in, 
 snatched the papers, still carrying his boots, went 
 through the parlour, undid the back door softly.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 193 
 
 and went into the lane at the back of the house. 
 Quickly putting on his boots, he went, by a series 
 of short cuts only known to a resident, to a field 
 near, thrust the papers for the present under a 
 stone in the hedge, and went to the office as quietly 
 as he could. No one saw him come in ; so, quietly 
 continuing the di'aft he had left the day before half 
 finished, he resumed work with a^Dparently a quiet 
 mind. Harold came in and a conversation fol- 
 lowed, in the course of which Maurice alluded 
 to the time. 
 
 ''Who would have thought you had been in 
 half an hom% sir? Time slips away in talk. I 
 must go on coiDying," he said. 
 
 Gabriel was not long at the house of the guardian 
 of the public peace, who with alacrity came with 
 him. Matthew in wondering silence walked between 
 them, apparently by accident, really by design. 
 They entered the shop, and Edward's heart beat 
 with joyous throbs. Directly they were inside, 
 Gabriel said — 
 
 " John Pomeroy, I deske you take some papers 
 belonging to me that you will find on the table 
 inside." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Matthew turned white with suppressed emotion. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 *' Best be carefuL What you say may be used 
 against you," said the officer. 
 
 The officer and Gabriel went in, closely followed 
 by Matthew and Edward. The papers were gone ! 
 
 *'If you had given them up quietly, I should 
 not have prosecuted ; but as it is, I shall give you 
 in charge." 
 
 The officer touched Matthew on the shoulder 
 and produced handcuffs, the sight of which caused 
 Matthew to speak. 
 
 " Mr. St. John, you know what you said. They 
 never were yom-s ; it's a trick and a lie." 
 
 " Best be quiet. I shall have to repeat all this," 
 said Pomeroy. 
 
 "I followed Mr. St. John into the street, and 
 could not have touched the papers. Mr. Edward 
 was in the shop." 
 
 " Come on," said Pomeroy, who saw a possibility 
 of future promotion. 
 
 The case was getting interesting. A search 
 throughout the house produced no result. The 
 only other member of the force by this time had
 
 LITTLEDALE. 195 
 
 arrived. Being a man of quicker perceptions, he 
 said — 
 
 " Magistrates are now sitting, it being Saturday, 
 at the haU." 
 
 " Very good, Gilbert ; we will go at once." 
 
 The i)rocession started. On Matthew's solemn 
 promise, the handcuffs were not put on. 
 
 Sir Lawi'ence Bunkum was in the chair. The 
 usual case of a wife's black eye had been disposed 
 of, the husband having got drunk on the drugged 
 beer at the Feathers ; but as John Tyack always 
 took the precaution of sending in, gratis, a nice 
 lunch for the magistrates, and one of them being 
 a large brewer, they agreed no blame rested on the 
 landlord. As they entered, the only other case was 
 just disposed of, to the great disgust of a fine- 
 looking ploughman in smock-frock and round hat, 
 who was accused of having anticipated the freedom 
 bestowed by the Chm-ch in the matter of conjugal 
 rights. Sh' Lawrence had just finished a fine 
 peroration on the iniquity of the proceeding and 
 scandal to the vicinity with a virtue quite heroic. 
 To be sm*e, his housemaids were often very pretty, 
 and my lady had a very frightened, subdued look ;
 
 ] 96 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 but he had endowed some of the best looking with 
 a marriage portion when they married, severely 
 punished their husbands when they beat them, and 
 if my lady sometimes had weak eyes and wore a 
 shade after he came home drunk, people only 
 shrugged their shoulders. It is often quite easy 
 to be wicked and respectable, if rich ; but to be 
 poor, tempted, and fall, is dreadfully wrong. 
 
 The magistrates were languishing for something 
 to do when Gabriel St. John, his son, and the 
 prisoner entered. Matthew was promptly placed 
 in the dock. Joshua, who acted as clerk to 
 the magistrates, looked very wise, and shook his 
 head. It was a sad thing, to be sm-e, but if it 
 had not been for that troublesome Matthew, he 
 could have shipped off all the young Maunders to 
 another ]3art of the country. Their presence was 
 disagreeable to Joshua. So he looked as if he knew 
 it all along, and it did not surprise him in the 
 least. We usually think badly of those who even 
 innocently thwart us in our schemes and ideas. 
 
 Gabriel, on being sworn, deposed as follows : — 
 *' He had caUed on the prisoner Matthew Elgood 
 on business, and that being concluded they had
 
 LITTLEDALE. 197 
 
 entered into conversation. Matthew had told him 
 he x^ossessed papers, which he offered to look at as 
 a favoui", but with the stipulation that he (Matthew) 
 should retain possession, as they related to the 
 family affairs of some one else." 
 
 *'Who?" interrupted the chairman, prompted 
 by the clerk. 
 
 " The deceased Mr. Maunder, of the Grange." 
 
 Joshua got very red and his interest redoubled. 
 
 " Instead of that, he found they were papers of 
 his own, stolen years before by the fi-audulent son 
 of his father's steward, the father of the wife of the 
 late Mr. Maunder. Mrs. Maunder, before she was 
 married, had made ovei-tm-es for their restoration, 
 but he had not been able to regain possession of 
 them. On finding her demands not complied with, 
 she pretended to faint, and made away with them 
 in the confusion. He offered on their restoration 
 to take no criminal proceedings, but certainly he 
 could not offer money for his own property, so he 
 had fetched John Pomeroy, now present. On their 
 return the papers were gone. A search in the 
 prisoner's house had resulted in nothing but the 
 fact of the disappearance of the papers."
 
 198 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 John Pomeroy, p.c, deposed to the fact of 
 arresting the prisoner, who seemed much confused. 
 On being arrested he was abusive to Mr. St. John 
 and called him a liar. 
 
 Gabriel looked up meekly, and the three 
 magistrates exchanged glances of indignation. 
 Just then James Maunder came forward; he had 
 returned from the Prices', and followed Matthew. 
 
 **Do you know anything?" said the chairman. 
 
 ** Yes — no," replied James. 
 
 "Let him be sworn," said Sir Lawrence signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 James Maunder, on being sworn, deposed that 
 he had been in the shop in the morning, and Mam'ice 
 Jones came in. Having fitted him, he left him in 
 the shop, to fetch Matthew when Mr. St. John 
 came in. How long he remained he could not tell. 
 
 *' Why ? " said Sir Lawrence. " Eemember, you 
 are on your oath." 
 
 "Because I stayed at Mr. Price's to fit the 
 children with shoes." 
 
 Joshua Smith was furious. To bring the name 
 of his clerk into the matter was beyond bearing. 
 But a message was despatched for Maurice, who
 
 LITTLEDALE. 199 
 
 very shortly appeared. He ^as promptly sworn 
 and then examined. 
 
 " Did you go to the shop of Matthew Elgood, 
 the prisoner, this morning." 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " When did you leave ? " 
 
 " When Mr. James Maunder did. I had no 
 longer any pm-pose for staying." 
 
 " When did you arrive at Mr. Smith's office ? " 
 
 "At my usual time. Mr. Harold Smith, who 
 came in shortly afterwards, can prove the truth of 
 what I state." 
 
 Just then a httle elderly man was seen speak- 
 ing to the prisoner and passing him a slip of 
 paper. The chairman promptly called out to the 
 stranger — 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 " Silas Pod, solicitor for the prisoner." 
 
 Joshua looked at the chanman in a warning 
 manner, and very slightly shook his head. Sir 
 Lawrence was in consequence silent. 
 
 Harold Smith arrived, and on being sworn 
 stated that he had arrived at the office and found 
 Maurice busily engaged in copying a draft. They
 
 200 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 had fallen into conversation, and had wasted half 
 an hour or so, when Maurice had stated he raust go 
 on with his work, which he had done accordingly. 
 
 " How do you know it was half an hour ? " 
 
 "Maurice Jones had casually mentioned the 
 fact." 
 
 " I find," said Pod, "that Mr. Gahriel St. John 
 was asked no questions. We will therefore, if you 
 please, recall him." 
 
 Gabriel was recalled. 
 
 " Can I look at the deposition, or shall Mr. St. 
 John repeat his evidence ? " said Pod. 
 
 The deposition was handed to him. 
 
 " You stated, Mr. Gabriel, in your evidence 
 that you offered to take no criminal proceedings, 
 and afterwards went for the police." 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " That wHl do." 
 
 John Pomeroy, on being cross-examined, brought 
 the fact to light that it was after, not before. 
 
 Gabriel began to think he had made a greater 
 mistake than he thought. 
 
 " State, if you please," said Pod to the police- 
 man, " whom you saw in Matthew Elgood's shop."
 
 LITTLEDALE, 201 
 
 " Mr. St. John, James Maunder, Matthew 
 Elgood, and Mr. Edward St. John." 
 
 '* Oh, mdeed ! Call Mr. Edward St. John." 
 
 He promptly came forward and was sworn. 
 
 " You accompanied your father to Matthew 
 Elgood's shop ? " 
 
 ^'Idid." 
 
 '' Did you hear the conversation ? " 
 
 *' Not all of it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 ** Because I was in the shop and they went into 
 the parlour." 
 
 " Could you see them all the time ? " 
 
 " Yes." This came rather reluctantly. 
 
 " How soon after your father's going out did you 
 see Matthew Elgood follow him ? " 
 
 '' I can't say exactly." 
 
 '' Try and give us an idea." 
 
 *' Not long." 
 
 "Now, as the door was open, did you lose sight 
 of Matthew Elgood ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I can't say I did." 
 
 " Did you stay in the shop all the time ? " 
 
 "I did not. Seeing it was empty, I went
 
 202 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 out to speak to our footman, who was in the 
 carriage." 
 
 " Then no one could have entered without your 
 seeing them ? " 
 
 ''Certainly not." 
 
 *' Did you give the driver anything ? " said Pod, 
 in a meaning manner. 
 
 *' Most emphatically, no," said Edward with 
 vehemence. 
 
 Pod looked at the magistrates. They retired to 
 consult, that is, to receive the instructions of their 
 clerk. Su' Lawrence, on resuming his seat, looked 
 very uneasy, but said in his usually confident 
 tone — 
 
 ** Prisoner, you are discharged, but I and my 
 brother magistrates feel it right to say there are 
 circumstances of grave suspicion attaching to you 
 in the matter." 
 
 Pod took the arm of the nearly unconscious 
 Matthew, who, as if in a dream, was led out. The 
 street was filled with nearly the entire population 
 of Liittledale. James had explained the matter 
 to one or two friends, and it quickly filtered 
 through the crowd. Here was a case of a rich
 
 LITTLEDALE. 203 
 
 man oiDpressing a i^oor man. Their sympathies 
 went with Matthew. He was theh' townsman ; 
 the other was not, and, what was more, dealt 
 usually neither in Littledale nor Stratton. Cheer 
 after cheer greeted Matthew. He did not seem 
 to hear or care for his deliverance ; he only felt 
 the work of years was destroyed. The papers he 
 so built his hopes idu were apparently gone for 
 ever. 
 
 Gabriel and Edward St. John came out very 
 quietly, and tried to get to their vehicle in as un- 
 obtrusive a manner as possible ; but two or three 
 waifs and strays of humanity, that hung on to the 
 skirts of society, had mysteriously been presented 
 with eggs decidedly of the stalest. One was dis- 
 charged at the vehicle ; it missed, and covered the 
 horse with a fine white and yellow streak of offen- 
 sive matter. That egg broke the ice ; many followed, 
 mingled with tufts of grass and dirt. 
 
 " Drive on," said Edward with an oath to the 
 man. 
 
 He did drive, but the crowd hemmed them in. 
 Groans and hisses, given with unmistakable em- 
 phasis, followed, one or two eggs were thrown that
 
 204 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 hit their mark, till Edward, who sat in front, 
 snatched the reins, and, lashing the horse, was soon 
 beyond the reach of the crowd, who, after three 
 cheers for Matthew Elgood, dispersed. 
 
 Gabriel, on his arrival at Stratton Manor, was 
 put to bed, and did not get better for some days. 
 As for Edward, he paced up and down hke a 
 maniac, cursing Matthew, himself, Clara, and the 
 magistrates in tm-n. Suddenly his walk was 
 arrested. He thought, *' What if we have lost 
 the papers ? All is not lost." But a savage look 
 came into his eyes, and then a smile like the 
 calm that precedes a tornado, more awful than its 
 worst fm^y. He sat down in a chau-, and began 
 thinking of a more terrible mode of revenge. Having 
 by no means a high view of the virtues or in- 
 tellect of women, he thought that sensual gratifi- 
 cation at Clara's expense and consequent grief of 
 those who surrounded her was the most feasible. 
 He sat down to dinner, and as he breathed his 
 hopes over the sparkhng hquor, his better angel 
 spread her wings and left him to the evil spirits, 
 who are powerless unless invited, and to the dark 
 domain of his own evil thoughts and ideas.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 205 
 
 After dinner he '^ent down to Stratton Churcli, 
 found the sexton, and began his search. He found 
 there the records of the births and deaths of more 
 of his ancestors than he could have hoped to find. 
 Deferring the search at Littledale till another day, 
 he went home and di'ew out the genealogy as far as 
 he could. He felt he must do something. As he 
 went to wish his father good night, he said — 
 
 *' Father, you don't think Matthew hid them ? " 
 
 '' Yes, I do." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " He left them with a neighbom- when he 
 followed me. I was a fool not to think of it at 
 the time." 
 
 Edward echoed the thought in his heart, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 " Go to London to-morrow," said the old man, 
 " and get a detective. I will be equal with them 
 all yet." 
 
 "I don't like to leave you, father," Edward 
 replied. 
 
 " I shall do well enough. Think of the 
 Chiveydale property." 
 
 Next morning Edward departed, and retm-ned 
 alone the mid-day after. His father was better.
 
 206 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 ** Let me see him," said the old man. 
 
 In the course of the day a man called to see 
 if the gentlemen wanted any corns cut. He was 
 of a medium height; hair inclined to be red and 
 cut short; bright brown eyes, but piercing in 
 expression, and scant eyebrows ; a little whisker, 
 but otherwise clean shaven. He stayed a long 
 time, but cut no corns ; but at his suggestion 
 Edward rang the bell and ordered a basin of hot 
 water, and when the servant came he had one 
 boot off. After a long interview the bell rang and 
 the stranger remarked — 
 
 " Well, squire, I'll come and cut your corns 
 in a day or two, when you are better. If you want 
 me you can write. I shall be at Littledale, as I 
 am going to work the district."
 
 CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 Silas Pod and the vicar had completed their 
 journey, as they had anticii^ated, in time to take 
 a post-chaise at Salisbuiy and reach Littledale 
 in good time on Saturday morning ; but the land- 
 lord at Salisbury had a farm, and the horses lent 
 a hand at off times to the plough. So they had to 
 be fetched, and when they arrived they were not 
 particularly fi'esh. The market day was Tuesday, 
 and this was Saturday ; he could easily have bor- 
 rowed or hired elsewhere, but he knew it entailed 
 a share of the pay. So, wishing to turn an extra 
 profit, he delayed the start, and having lost horses 
 lately, the two put into requisition were none of the 
 best. Had they been decent cattle, and started 
 when the travellers wished, they would have saved
 
 208 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 just two hours, which would have made all the 
 difference. 
 
 When they came to Littledale, they entered it 
 at the lower end. The streets seemed more silent 
 than usual : the floating poi^ulation that were 
 usually about were at the Town Hall. Cyrus and 
 Silas entered the shop of Matthew, and found 
 Eobert in grief and rage, looking at nothing through 
 the window. Entering the parlour, they saw Clara 
 in grief and terror, attended by Jane Bright, the 
 little handmaid, who rose with the occasion. She 
 had restored the parlom- to something like order 
 and to tidiness. 
 
 Eobert and Clara had gone out in the morning, 
 attended by Jane, to their respective duties. Eobert 
 went to a farmer who lived about a quarter of a 
 mile off; Clara to purchase, and Jane to carry 
 home, various marketings for the day's consumption 
 in general and dinner in particular. The fineness of 
 the morning induced Clara to extend her walk with 
 her brother till they came to the house he was 
 going to ; she then turned slowly back, and by the 
 time she had returned and made her purchases 
 the tragedy had occurred.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 209 
 
 The fii'st thing they saw was Matthew escorted 
 up the town by the policeman, Gabriel and Edward 
 following, and followed in turn by a vagabond con- 
 tingent of the idlers of the town. They hastened 
 to the shop, and found James just returned. With 
 only a word or two of explanation, he hurried to 
 the Town Hall, as we have seen, leaving Clara and 
 Piobert to keep house. It was not long after this 
 that Silas and the vicar arrived. Eobert told all 
 he knew, which was not much, but enough to send 
 Silas Pod with extraordinary celerity to the Town 
 Hall, where his arrival very materially contributed 
 to alter the fate of the day. 
 
 Cyrus sat in the parlour. A pretty girl in tears 
 is enough to move the stoutest heart, so Cyrus 
 di'ew near the weeping figure in the armchair. 
 Jane looked knowing — she was quite au fait with 
 Littledale gossip — and was going to leave the room 
 and shut the door; but Cyrus, made wise by ex- 
 perience, said — 
 
 ''You had better stay; yom* mistress may 
 want you." 
 
 Jane went to the end of the room and took up 
 a piece of sewing, in which she became absorbed, 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 oblivous of the fact that there was no thread in the 
 needle, which was only stuck in the hem. 
 
 Clara, in her grief, resented the presence of 
 Jane. She resented the carefulness, as she thought, 
 of herself by Cyrus. "He has been with fine 
 friends," she thought. The one with him had a 
 diamond pin in his necktie ; and then she thought 
 of the diamond, notwithstanding her terror and 
 grief. 
 
 There are a thousand strings to the human 
 heart, of which our nearest and dearest friends 
 know only the notes of a very few, and in their 
 best endeavours very often strike the wi'ong string 
 and send a jarring chord through the chambers of 
 the soul, when we look for a strain of comfort and 
 harmony amid the contending waters of life. No 
 human skill can make a duet of thoughts run 
 properly for long together. Only across the deep 
 river, beyond the dark portals where our eyes shall 
 open on perfect day, can we be certain that a strain 
 even apparently of heavenly melody is free from the 
 lingering notes of selfishness, self-will, or greed. 
 When the melody floats on our ear, it may sound 
 perfect, even in the echoes it makes, as they sound
 
 LITTLEDALE. 211 
 
 across the waters of life. Cyi'us saw there was 
 something amiss, and tried to put it right. He 
 imagined it was grief at Matthew's trouble that 
 caused it. 
 
 " I've come back to Littledale again, little 
 thinking I should find Matthew in such trouble ; 
 but Mr. Pod will no doubt see him through it, 
 Clara." 
 
 "Matthew has done no wrong, and therefore 
 he will return proved innocent ; but the disgi*ace 
 will break his heart. Xo one will take any more 
 notice of him as they did before." 
 
 "Yes, they wiU. I shall, and every one whose 
 opinion is worth having." 
 
 " But what will people generally say ? " 
 
 " Matthew could not be cast down when he 
 has such fi'iends to comfort him and pour the 
 balm of consolation on the wounded spirit. I am 
 sure I should not, if I were in his place." 
 
 This was to the point, and Clara, with the 
 natm'al instincts of a woman, asked — 
 
 " What friends ? " 
 
 Cyrus stammered, colom-ed, and half gasped 
 out " You," when he bethought himself of Jane
 
 212 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Bright, who, although sewing, was within earshot, 
 and said, ^' James and Eobert." 
 
 '' Yes, and if he has all these friends at home 
 he will want none from other places." 
 
 " But, Clara, I entreat you to look." 
 
 Clara did as she was directed, and saw Matthew, 
 Silas Pod, and James coming down the street, 
 escorted by a crowd of friends. They turned in, 
 but as they passed the window Cyrus saw Pod's 
 eyes fixed on him. He shrank back from being 
 seen. Clara interpreted the action as one of shame 
 at being seen with her. She started up and em- 
 braced Matthew with more than ordinary effusion. 
 James and Eobert both came in and looked at 
 Cyrus ; he rose, feeling himself in the way, and 
 went out into the shop. Silas was waiting for 
 him. 
 
 "Hasn't plucked up courage to speak," thought 
 Pod, but said nothing. 
 
 Pod knocked at the door of the parlour and 
 looked in. He saw a sight he never forgot to his 
 dying day. Matthew was half sitting, half lying in 
 the armchair, white round the mouth and black 
 round the eyes ; his breath came in gasps, drawn
 
 LITTLEDALE. 213 
 
 with dreadful labour and agony. James held his 
 head up, Eobert was chafing his hands alternately, 
 Clara knelt at his feet, and Jane was sprinkling 
 his face with water. He had an attack of they 
 knew not what. Pod spoke with quiet energy to 
 Cyrus. 
 
 "Eun and get brandy." 
 
 Cyrus ran to the Feathers, and gasped out — 
 
 " A bottle of best brandy. Quick ! " 
 
 In an instant he was flying back, and stumbled 
 against Robert, who was on the way for a doctor, 
 which they had none of them thought of till Silas 
 told them. Cyrus knocked off the neck of the 
 bottle and dashed some into a cup, which Silas 
 introduced between the haK-rigid teeth. 
 
 " He will die ! he will die ! " screamed Clara. 
 
 " He will if you make that noise," said Silas. 
 
 "What can I do?" said Jane, but her lips 
 quivered. 
 
 " Get hot water fi'om the kitchen, in a large 
 basin, at once," said Silas. 
 
 But it was not needed. The labouring breath 
 came with less difficulty; it became regular; the 
 eyes unclosed; the black chcles around them be-
 
 214 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 came less visible. Consciousness returned just as 
 Doctor Henry Black crossed the threshold. He at 
 once ordered Matthew to bed; hot water bottles 
 were applied to his feet, and in half an hour all 
 present danger was over. 
 
 James, Eobert, and Clara, with Cyrus and Silas, 
 were in the parlour. Jane was watching beside 
 the couch of the invalid. The doctor, with the 
 intuition of his noble calling, saw she was the only 
 one who had her wits about her. 
 
 " Put the rest of the brandy in a decanter and 
 have it handy. I will send a draught, a table- 
 spoonful to be given every four hom's, if he is 
 awake. If he faints again, which he won't if he is 
 not excited, give him a wine-glassful of brandy; " 
 and the doctor made as if to go. 
 
 James tried to sli^D a guinea in his hand. 
 
 " Pooh ! nonsense. Send me a pair of easy 
 boots. I will call to-morrow and see him again. 
 I have known Matthew all my life, and am only 
 too glad to be of a little service to him ; " and he 
 was gone up the street, with his usually quick, 
 decided step. 
 
 Silas and Cyrus also departed. The latter
 
 LITTLEDALE. 215 
 
 stepped into the Feathers to pay for the hrandv. 
 John wouldn't take the money. 
 
 " No, no, sh\ I hope it did Matthew good, poor 
 feUow ! " 
 
 " Shall we stop here and have some lunch ? 
 I am very hungiy," said Pod. 
 
 " Xo, let's go to the vicarage," answered Cyrus. 
 
 They went and found Jane Parkhouse, in a 
 state of lachrymose excitement, with her bonnet on, 
 about depai-ting to see ITatthew. She had heard 
 the rumour of the arrest and then of the release. 
 The maid now left in charge got a cold lunch for the 
 gentlemen, who partook of it heartily, and washed 
 it down with a bottle of claret. Their hunger being 
 satisfied, Silas said — 
 
 '•' How about the papers now ? "Where are they? 
 Can you guess ? " 
 
 " Xo, I can't," said Cyrus. 
 
 *' I can't tell, but I can give a pretty good 
 guess." 
 
 '' "Wliere, in Heaven's name ? " 
 
 " Why, Edward St. John quietly handed them 
 out to the coachman when Matthew went out in 
 the street gaping after Gabriel."
 
 216 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 *'Yes; but think and know are different. If 
 we had only had good cattle this morning, we 
 should have been first at the fair ; as it is, we are 
 a day after. I shall stay a day or two to make 
 inquiries. I sujDpose they air the beds at the 
 Feathers?" 
 
 " Indeed, you will stay here with me." 
 
 " Very well. Your claret's very good, and I 
 dare say it's vile at the inn, so I will." 
 
 " Had you not better put it in the hands of the 
 police ? " 
 
 Silas laughed out loud. *' They are the other 
 side. Besides, I saw that St. John and Sir Law- 
 rence Bunkum were thick as thieves." 
 
 *' What are you going to do ? " 
 
 '' Get a man from London by the next train. 
 If I can, he will be here to-morrow. What time 
 does the post go out ? " 
 
 *' In an hour's time." 
 
 " I want to write a letter ; and, what is more, 
 I'll just look at the church. It can do no harm. 
 One often picks up an idea from the clerk or 
 sexton."
 
 LITTLEDALE. 217 
 
 '' You have no need to call for him, as the keys 
 are kept here." 
 
 *' Yes ; but it is safer always to go in company. 
 Awkward questions are sometimes asked you if you 
 go alone." 
 
 Silas sat down, wrote a letter, and posted it him- 
 self at the post-office. He soon found the parish clerk 
 was chief assistant to Price, the auctioneer, in the 
 funeral department. In fact, he managed it all, 
 except taking the money ; so he took to snuff in 
 extraordinary quantities, and bemoaned his hard 
 fate that prevented genius from reaping its due, 
 in a pecuniary sense, from a grateful country. 
 Silas Pod carried a snuff-box, but never took any ; 
 it was always filled with the best Irish rappee, not 
 too highly scented — armed with which he i)resented 
 himself at the Price emporium. 
 
 " Can I see Jacob Higgs ? " he asked of a pale 
 youth imprisoned in a little desk that did service 
 as a rostrum on the occasion of an auction, with a 
 box behind to stand on. The box was absent, but 
 a stool was present, on which he reclined, his back 
 against the waU. 
 
 "Jacob's at dinner now, sii'; he will be back 
 dii-ectly."
 
 218 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Finding it was near the church, Silas betook 
 himself thither without delay. He surprised Jacob 
 dining in state, surrounded by his olive branches 
 and the wife of his bosom. 
 
 Saturday was/eife day in the Higgs' household. 
 Sunday was much too busy; with service in the 
 morning, funerals in the afternoon, and sermon in 
 evening, very often there was not time even to go 
 home. On this particular Saturday Jacob sat 
 cutting thick slices from a leg of pork, the fra- 
 grance of which and the stuffing saluted Silas's 
 nose long before he knocked at the door. 
 
 Mrs. Higgs came and curtsied. She was a 
 thin, spare woman, with the stomach of an ostrich 
 and appetite of a shark. Ah-eady three thick sub- 
 stantial slices, and stuffing to match, with potatoes 
 baked beneath the delicacy ad libitum, had disap- 
 peared, and the still hungry expression of her face 
 gave the idea that she could dispose of as much 
 more with ease. Jacob had only been able to 
 demolish two, and was already beginning to trifle 
 with the crackling and such small bits ; he was 
 also beginning to be critical in the matter of 
 potatoes.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 219 
 
 '' Can I see Mr. Higgs ? " said Silas. 
 
 Jacob came forward to the open door. Three 
 chubby childi'en were eating as if indigestion was 
 a mythical infliction only known to the dark ages. 
 
 "At dinner I see. Don't disturb yourself; I 
 will wait for you in the churchyard." 
 
 " Very well, sh*. I will be there in a minute." 
 
 Silas walked about a hundi-ed and fifty yards 
 and came to the churchyard gate, which being open, 
 he entered the enclosure and found the usual quaint 
 inscriptions on the tombstones. Going round he 
 saw a most elaborate tomb. Curiosity induced him 
 to read the inscription : — 
 
 ^acreti to t})z fHnnorg of 
 
 lio:n^el maundek, 
 
 OF THE GRANGE, 
 
 Who died May 23, 18— 
 Aged 45. 
 
 ALSO TO 
 
 ELIZABETH, 
 
 WIFE OF THE ABOVE, 
 
 Who died, aged 47, June 22, 18 —
 
 220 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 A little to one side he saw a white carved slab 
 of marble : — 
 
 .Sacreli ta t!jc iHcmorg of 
 
 EUNICE MAUNDEE, 
 
 wife of jailes maunder, esq., of the grange, 
 
 Aged 23, 
 
 Who died Jan. 15, 18 — 
 
 In much plainer letters were cut beneath : — 
 
 ALSO OF 
 
 JAMES MAUNDER, 
 
 Aged 54, 
 
 accidentally drowned in the mill-dam, 
 
 June 15, 18 — 
 
 ''I wonder," said Silas to himself, ''if Lionel 
 could return, what he would think of his 
 descendants ? I wish Higgs would come. How he 
 will smell of onions, sage, and pork ! " A smile 
 crossed his face, which had hardly faded when 
 Higgs appeared. 
 
 The face of the clerk was flushed, but not with 
 wine. A pint of Littledale beer had hardly quieted 
 the portion of the deceased pig, onions, and potatoes 
 that Jacob had burdened his stomach with; his
 
 LITTLEDALE. 221 
 
 flushed cheeks showed his stomach had hoisted the 
 flag of rebeUion. 
 
 "Would you see the church or the belfry first?" 
 
 " The church first, by all means." 
 
 They turned to the front of the edifice. The 
 opened door admitted a rush of cold air that struck 
 a chill to the heart of Jacob ; he sadly took out a 
 tin snuff-box, but finding it empty, returned it to 
 his pocket. 
 
 "Here," said Silas, "try some of mine, my 
 friend." 
 
 Jacob's fishy eyes glistened; he partook, and 
 then went round the church, describing its beauties 
 and the principal tombstones, benefactions, etc. 
 Thence he diverged to tell the grievance how he 
 ought to have half of the rent of Lower Greenway 
 for distributing the same, but the old vicar cut his 
 pay down to forty pounds a year for it. 
 
 "What is the total rent ? " asked Pod. 
 
 " One hundred and eighty pounds a year." 
 
 " I do not see it in the list of benefactions." 
 
 Silas looked again, and found Dame Margery 
 Greenacre had left a piece of land producing five 
 pounds per annum, half to the clerk, and the rest 
 to the poor for ever, called Greenway.
 
 222 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 " But it was only five pounds a year then. How 
 is that?" 
 
 *' Well, you see, sir, it's been turned into water 
 meadows now. It was only swamp when 'twas left 
 to the poor." 
 
 *'But you get forty pounds a year, don't you? " 
 
 " Yes ; but it says half. The vicar told me if I 
 was not contented he'd write to the Charitable 
 Missioners, though I don't see what Missioners 
 have got to do with us." 
 
 Silas laughed. 
 
 " You mean Charity Commissioners, my man.' 
 
 '' And you see, sir, them great safes ; that's 
 where the registers are kept. There ain't many 
 churches got such a lot as we have." 
 
 *^Who keeps the keys?" 
 
 " The vicar. I've got to go and ask for them 
 when I want them. Them safes have been put 
 ever since the registers was tried to be stolen years 
 agone." 
 
 " Who tried ? " 
 
 "No one knowed for certain, but there were 
 people down from London about it, who made a 
 great fuss ; leastways, I heard so. One of the Mr.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 223 
 
 St. Johns married a sister of one of the old 
 barrownights." 
 
 " What baronet ? *' 
 
 " Sir Lawrence, to be sure. So there was a 
 search made, and sure enough the marriage was 
 found all right, so no one could make top or tail of 
 it. 'Twas afore my time, ever so many years." 
 
 Silas then went up the tower, and saw nothing 
 but cobwebs and dirt. "When he returned, he found 
 Higgs peacefully asleep on the grass ; he had 
 declined mounting the stau's, on Silas telling him it 
 was no matter. On being awoke, his speech was 
 more incoherent than ever ; but he took his gratuity 
 with unmeasured thanks, and contrived to steer 
 himself home. Silas, when he got to the vicarage, 
 said to Cyrus — 
 
 '' How have you arranged for to-morrow ? " 
 
 *' Oh, Smithson preaches, as I arranged. The 
 fee is an object to him." 
 
 Silas Pod went to bed early ; the events of the 
 day were over apparently, when a knock came at 
 his door, and Cyrus demanded admittance. He 
 was in a state of excitement. 
 
 " I wanted to tell you before you slept," he said.
 
 224 LITTLEDALE, 
 
 " What, that the room is haunted ? " 
 
 "No; that Jane Bright, Matthew's servant, 
 found the back door open and marks of feet in the 
 garden behind the house." 
 
 " That all ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I thought you would like to know." 
 
 " I should like to go to sleep." 
 
 Which happened to Silas very shortly, but 
 not to Cyrus; he lay tossing and turning in bed 
 till the '^east was grey," when he sunk into an 
 uneasy slumber, full of distempered visions.
 
 CHAPTEK XY. 
 
 Doctor Black overtook the vicar as he was passing 
 down the town early next morning to inquire for 
 Matthew. In response to Cyrus's inquiries, he 
 said — 
 
 *' Matthew has had a very near squeak this 
 time ; he will hardly get over another. I don't 
 think he will, and the worst of the case is, excite- 
 ment of any sort may bring it on again." 
 
 " Bring on what ? " said Cyrus. 
 
 " Death. It is pronounced heart disease, which 
 the excitement of yesterday has made chronic. It 
 may and will return at intervals, but any sudden 
 shock of joy or grief, even sudden immersion in 
 cold water, would still his pulse for ever." 
 
 '' You are very open. I thank you." 
 
 *' You need not. I speak to you because I wish 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 you to admonish the young Maunders to be careful 
 of Matthew's health ; they will attend to a clergy- 
 man more than a layman." 
 
 The doctor laughed and went in to visit another 
 patient, and Cyrus continued his walk to Matthew's 
 house. 
 
 He was admitted to the invalid, who was up 
 and dressed. The parlour looked very neat and 
 clean ; not a trace of yesterday's excitement was 
 visible, except in a certain unhealthy paleness on 
 Matthew's forehead. Cyrus shook him by the 
 hand and said — 
 
 " I saw Doctor Black as I came down, and he is 
 going to put 3^ou und^r my care. You are not to 
 worry about anything whatever, or joii will be ill 
 again. James and Eobert can attend to the busi- 
 ness; and if there is any extra capital wanted, I 
 dare say they will find a friend to advance it." 
 
 Matthew looked up and smiling said, " I know 
 who the friend will be." 
 
 Cyrus smiled in turn. 
 
 *' You must not be surprised that I, as a 
 clergyman, talk of secular matters on Sunday, 
 but until the mind is easy about everyday affairs
 
 LITTLEDALE. 227 
 
 we cannot turn our attention to things of higher 
 importance." 
 
 Matthew nodded. 
 
 '•'If jou feel quite at ease, I will go for to-day, 
 as I promised to assist Mr. Smithson, if I could, in 
 the services." 
 
 " I should wish to see you to-morrow, and the 
 gentleman that hefriended me. Could you take 
 charge of what is his due for his services ? " 
 
 *' Nothing of the sort, Matthew. He would not 
 hear of anything." 
 
 " Then you have been before me ? " 
 
 " I have ; I do not wish to deny it. But he is 
 a rich man, without wife or children, and can 
 afford to be liberal. I will bring him to-morrow, 
 when you can thank him if you wish, but no 
 money. If you don't promise that, I won't bring 
 him." 
 
 *' Very well, sir. I want him to do something 
 else for me." 
 
 " I have no doubt he will, if possible. And 
 now I must be off. Good day; " and Matthew was 
 alone. 
 
 The brothers and sister had gone for a walk
 
 228 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 before service, and the only one in the house ^vith 
 Matthew was Jane Bright, who now came in, made 
 np the fire, administered a portion of medicine, 
 and retired to the kitchen and her household 
 duties. Jane's raiment had undergone a great 
 change for the better since she lived with Matthew. 
 A clean print dress, all one pattern this time, fitted 
 a trim figure ; the eyes beamed with intelligence 
 and, when they rested on Matthew, with affectionate 
 devotion. He had rescued her from a poverty- 
 stricken home, where she had been anything but 
 hai3]py, and her joyous nature expanded in the sun- 
 shine. Her sterling heart was not loosened in its 
 fibres by prosperity, but rather the sun of pros- 
 perity expanded it in almost rapturous devotion 
 and pleasure that she, the little-esteemed drudge, 
 could be of use to her benefactor. 
 
 The chm'ch bell began to toll its solemn invita- 
 tion to all that heard it. Scarcely had it done so 
 for more than two or three minutes, when Cyrus 
 entered the vestry. The Eev. John Smithson was 
 just putting on his sm-plice when Cyrus entered; 
 Higgs was in attendance as master of the robes. 
 The Eev. John dismissed him rather quickly, and 
 then said —
 
 LITTLEDALE. 229 
 
 " I got a note this morning." 
 
 " Did jou, indeed ? What was it ahout ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Smithson was not so well. I expect an 
 addition to my olive branches ; " and he sighed. 
 Money was scarce with him, and the cares of a 
 large family sat heavily on him. 
 
 '' Very well, then ; you read the lorayers and I 
 will preach." 
 
 " That is indeed kind, and then I can go home 
 nearly at once. I will be sm,*e and be in time for 
 the evening seiwice." 
 
 The chui'ch filled rapidly ; pew after pew re- 
 ceived its quota of worshippers. There was more 
 than the usual quantity of conversation over the 
 backs and sides of the pews. A great deal had 
 happened since last Sunday, and Littledale deemed 
 the subjects as yet not sufficiently ventilated. The 
 organ began to play, the occupants of the pews 
 settled down in theii- places, and the prayers 
 began. The second hymn was finished, and the 
 Eev. Mr. Smithson descended fi'om the reading- 
 desk and went into the vestry, followed by the 
 vicar. A great many looks were exchanged when 
 Cyrus ascended the pulpit and his supply did not
 
 230 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 reappear. Looking oyer the congregation, he 
 opened his Bible, the hymn ceased, and he began 
 his discourse — '''For this is the message that ye 
 heard from the beginning, that we should love one 
 another.' 
 
 " The word love is associated in the minds of 
 most with only a very small portion of life; 
 whereas, far from it, it is carried everywhere. He 
 who does not love all men injures himself; he cuts 
 himself off from all the best and noblest associa- 
 tions of life — like the prickly cactus that grows 
 alone in the desert, injuring all that approach with 
 its prickles ; it dies alone and unpitied : his i^lace 
 knows him no more. A trader, overreaching in 
 his bargains, injures himself ; a hard dry germ of 
 selfishness is planted in his heart that, like the dry 
 rot, will eat away its best and truest emotions. 
 The nations that have gone before on the earth, 
 how did they fall but by ignoring the law of love ? 
 When the Eoman emperors and people gave the 
 early Christians to the beasts, and the savage 
 denizens of the forests fought over the fragments, 
 did the new faith die ? Far fi'om it ; it flourished, 
 and the blossoms of faith and love it bore were as
 
 LITTLEDALE. 231 
 
 ' a sweet savour.' The oiDpressed few that helped 
 one another through dark and terrible days con- 
 quered by the divine power of love. It is the old 
 story : ' The meek shall inherit the earth.' 
 
 "Where is now the Koman who brought all 
 nations under his yoke ? Gone for ever, and only 
 a few stones and ruins remain to attest his some- 
 time greatness and power. It is gone — the power 
 of the nation that ruled by conquest. "Where are 
 the Phoenicians who, with an enterprise and courage 
 heroic of its kind, urged their swift galleys through 
 distant seas, far beyond even the imagination of 
 the age they lived in ? Many have thought the 
 ruined temples of Mexico were their handiwork, 
 but the rowers who sat on the benches were 
 chained to the oars ; they were slaves. Tyre ruled 
 by the lash and the power of abject fear. Where 
 is now the proud Mistress of the Seas ? On her site 
 the fisher spreads his net to di-y, where once the 
 merchants of the earth trafficked then' various 
 commodities from the ends thereof. 
 
 '' But I wish more particularly to deal with the 
 loss to those who do not feel love to their neigh- 
 boui's. It does not consist only of giving, although
 
 232 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 the love that does not give is at best a very languid 
 thing. We cannot all give money or money's worth, 
 but we can give what no money can buy. Benjamin 
 West, the great painter, when he made a sketch of 
 his baby sister and showed it to his mother — she 
 did not give him a slice of cake, or money; she 
 gave him a kiss. ' That kiss,' said he, ' made me 
 a painter.' The law of universal love will keep a 
 man, woman, or child from repeating anything to 
 the injury of others. * Charity (or love) hopeth all 
 things.' The almost superhuman genius that sat 
 on the throne of a neighbom-ing country, what use 
 did he make of his great power? He oppressed 
 the nations, and died a prisoner in a foreign land. 
 The lonely willow that stood above the grave of 
 Napoleon has a teaching that speaks for ever. 
 The Apostle John lived a very noble life ; he ended 
 his days in exile. His writings, which furnish the 
 text to-day, were little thought of at the time 
 they were written. But which shines higher in 
 the history of the world ? How many people 
 now read the life of the conqueror, except with 
 a certain interest, as part of the story of our 
 race ? But the words of John shine brighter
 
 LITTLEDALE. 233 
 
 and brighter ; they appeal to all nations, kindreds, 
 and tongues to the end of time. Look, again, 
 at the everyday life of each one that breathes 
 and moves. Do they possess the love of their 
 fellow-men ? If they do, you will find they love 
 their neighbours. He who does not love his 
 neighbour, how can he expect to rise to a glad 
 and happy eternity ? It could not be that tale- 
 bearing and scandal shaU enter heaven. Here 
 we have only a few gates — the eye, the ear, the 
 nose, the mouth, and the mmd — to catch a glimpse 
 of the ineffable glory of God, who teaches us, in the 
 orbs that stud the sky, one great lesson of love to 
 aU. Each briUiant orb that rides in beauty and 
 majesty the measureless ether, aU with a beneficial 
 power of love keep each other in their place. 
 Were the great law of attraction abrogated for a 
 single hour, each planet or sun would faU from his 
 place and universal chaos ensue. 
 
 " Here, as I before remarked, we have only five 
 gates ; we may in a future state have fifty or five 
 hundred, and only those who rightly use the talents 
 entrusted to them can hope to be entrusted with 
 more. The servant who hid his talent, who was
 
 234 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 selfish, was cast into outer darkness ; and when we 
 look at the great tragedy of the race of a Nazarene 
 peasant nailed to a cross, the most yile of punish- 
 ments in the eyes of Jew or Eoman, we see the 
 great truth again of love to om- fellows. Our 
 Master was despised and betrayed, and yet His 
 mighty love has subdued the best and purest king- 
 doms of the earth for ever. Solomon saw it afar 
 off: 'His banner over me was love.' Let us all 
 humbly, not with arrogance and self-esteem, but 
 
 * by love serving one another,' keep as far as in us 
 lies a pure and just heart, and we shall find, as we 
 love om- fellows and speak of them gently, kindly, 
 and truly, it will be retm-ned into our own bosoms. 
 ' Whoso giveth a cup of cold water shall in no wise 
 lose his reward.' When we think of that great 
 city where the tree of life for ever grows, do we 
 try to fit ourselves for that great and blessed place? 
 do we remember that * naught that defileth shall 
 ever enter in ' ? A very worldly man was once 
 elected director of the gaieties of a fashionable 
 town ; his reign was long and prosi^erous. He 
 chose for the centre law of his little kingdom, 
 
 * Those who repeat evil shall be taken for the
 
 LITTLEDALE. 235 
 
 authors.' So you see that the most worldly and 
 frivolous cannot abrogate, even among themselves, 
 the law of love. 
 
 '' Time fails me. I could enlarge on the theme, 
 but rather let me beseech each one of you to 
 follow in his own heart the few suggestions that 1 
 have laid before you. They are profitable for the 
 life that now is, as well as that which is to come. 
 The soul and not the body is the source of all true 
 pleasure. We are soon fatigued, soon satiated, 
 and soon descend to the narrow tomb. The body 
 can endure but little of the most refined torture ; 
 insensibility steps in, and we can feel no more. 
 The nerves are all on the surface, and they being 
 cut through, the surgeon, when amputating, can 
 hack at the flesh as if it had no feeling. The sting 
 of poverty may be sharp, I do not wish to deny ; 
 the pleasure of the possession of riches may 
 satisfy for a very short time ; but the remembrance 
 of a good or bad action will last us through life 
 with a depth and intensity we are always forgetting, 
 and to recollections of this sort poverty and riches 
 are alike : they will fall off with the body, but our 
 good or bad actions will follow us through eternity."
 
 236 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Cyrus concluded with the Benediction, and the 
 congregation dispersed. Those who had been 
 most forward to say, confidentially, that Matthew 
 had slipped through the fingers of justice were 
 very silent on the subject ; they thought uneasily 
 of his unobtrusive goodness to one and all in time 
 of doubt, care, and trouble. 
 
 The vicar took off the black silk gown he 
 always preached in, and slowly walked to the 
 vicarage, where he found a cold luncheon awaiting 
 him. Silas Pod had gone out, and was nowhere 
 to be seen ; a man had called on him, and they 
 went out together. 
 
 Jacob Higgs went home feeling very uncomfort- 
 able, so he cut a good piece off the cold leg of pork, 
 and sent it to a poor widow who lived near. There 
 was, it happened, no funeral that afternoon, so he 
 took his three children for a walk, and was sm-- 
 prised to find the country lanes were more worth 
 looking at than he had thought possible. 
 
 Maurice Jones also went for a walk, and picked 
 up an amusing companion, whose conversation he 
 found very interesting. 
 
 Matthew sat at home quietly all the morning,
 
 LITTLEDALE. 23 i 
 
 and in the afternoon softly fell asleep. The 
 house was empty ; the clock ticked, and that was 
 all that could be heard, except a mouse that crept 
 in and out of a hole under the skirting-board, and 
 "was looking for its dinner. 
 
 Matthew slept on. The events of the last few 
 
 days mingled with the past and future in fantastic 
 
 visions. He was young again. He saw Eunice 
 
 in youth and beauty; she smiled on him, and 
 
 beckoned to another to join them. He looked 
 
 round and saw the vicar come as invited, but 
 
 alone. She looked unhappy, and was about to ask 
 
 further, when Cyrus pointed at Matthew. Again 
 
 the scene changed. He saw the court of the day 
 
 before with dreadful clearness. All the people 
 
 gibed and pointed at him. Again the scene 
 
 changed, and he saw James and Eobert alone; and 
 
 then a thii-d figure was with them, but he could 
 
 not see who, and Eobert and James floated round. 
 
 They passed by him, but spoke not. He tried to 
 
 speak but could not, and the idea came over him 
 
 that he was invisible to them. His tongue clove to 
 
 the roof of his mouth in agony; and with that 
 
 he awoke, and found Jane just bringing in the 
 
 tea tray.
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 Joshua Smith sat in his office on Monday morning. 
 He had had time to think the matter out, and he 
 came to the conclusion that Matthew had bm-nt 
 the papers, fearing detection for " unlawful pos- 
 session ; " so, in order to make his mind quite clear 
 on the subject, he rang the office bell, and Maurice 
 appeared. 
 
 "Did you ring, su'?" 
 
 *' Yes. Sit down. I want to get at the bottom 
 of the facts of the trial at the Town Hall on Satur- 
 day. What do you know or think ? " 
 
 Maurice coloured, and was uneasy at the 
 thought that he was going to be entrapped ; but 
 his accustomed resolute course of action cleared 
 him completely. He promptly stuck a fly on the
 
 LITTLEDALE. • 239 
 
 object glass of his master's mental telescope, and it 
 forthwith looked an elephant; the fly of fiction 
 looked the elephant of truth. 
 
 '' Sir, I think I can tell you what is become of 
 them." 
 
 *'Do, then, at once." 
 
 " Jane, Matthew Elgood's servant, so I heard 
 this morning, has found marks in the garden at 
 the back of the house. Now, if you recollect, sir, 
 Satm-day is the day the men call for any rubbish 
 or rags to exchange for plates and dishes. They 
 called in the morning; Jane went to the back 
 door : they hardly ever call at the front of any 
 house. I should think that she left the door un- 
 bolted in a moment of forgetfulness, and they 
 returned, having observed the women folk leave the 
 house and recollected the men were in the shoj). 
 Perhaps they overheard something, and, whether 
 they did or not, may have snatched the documents 
 XL]} and hid them under the rags of their cart, and 
 are waiting to claim a reward if it is offered." 
 
 Joshua looked thoughtfully at his clerk. He 
 weighed the pros and cons, and decided it was 
 correct ; but it would not do to acknowledge his
 
 240 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 clerk had thought of what he had not, so he 
 said — 
 
 " I certainly think that my idea is correct : that 
 the chiffonniers, having obtained entrance in the 
 mornmg, returned and made off with the x^apers. I 
 should not mind giving twenty pounds for them, if 
 you could get any one to see them. Perhaps five 
 bright sovereigns might satisfy them, as they are 
 ignorant men and can scarcely read." 
 
 "Excuse me, sir, but I would rather not try. 
 My name has been brought forward too much to be 
 pleasant already." 
 
 " "Whom do you propose, then ? You have, I 
 have no doubt, some one in your eye." 
 
 " I should propose Pomeroy." 
 
 *' We hold the lease of his house as security for 
 a small sum of money he borrowed ; he would not 
 dare to play false." 
 
 " Shall I send for him, sir?" 
 
 John Pomeroy, -p.e., was sent for and in- 
 structed. Five shillings smoothed the way. With 
 a promise of secrecy on Joshua's part, he de- 
 parted with the assurance he would give early 
 attention to the case.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 241 
 
 A jolly looking man ^ras walking clown the 
 street. A resplendent tie was round his throat ; 
 a pair of worn dog-skin gloves, a coat and waist- 
 coat of navy blue, check trowsers, and a pair 
 of laced boots, completed his attire. Jonathan 
 Harker had been engaged in many delicate cases, 
 but here he was puzzled. Pod had told him his 
 suspicions, in which he hardly agreed with his 
 employer; "for," he reasoned, ''if Edward St. 
 John had the papers, they would hardly have given 
 Matthew in charge, and been so disconcerted 
 when the case broke down." So, having a little 
 time, he went to Matthew's shop. He found James 
 and Eobert busy but taciturn. He looked at some 
 boots and turned the conversation in the du-ection 
 of the late events. He put no searching questions ; 
 he went to '' break ground " only to-day. 
 
 He then went to Joshua's office and found 
 Mam-ice on guard; his employer and son were 
 absent on business or pleasm'e. Putting on an 
 air of great disappointment at Joshua's absence, 
 he said, if allowed, he would wait his return. At 
 length he said to Maui'ice Jones — 
 
 ''You look jDretty deep; do you know if the 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 governor has any small property to sell ? I want 
 a little house to buy or rent, as may suit me, but 
 it must be a long lease." 
 
 " Yes," said Maurice, " there are several, but 
 they are let for the present. In a month or so 
 you could have one or two." 
 
 "Well, you seem a good-natured chap; can I 
 get lodgings anywhere ? I ain't so comfortable as 
 I could wish at the Feathers. I hke company of 
 an evening, but all day is too much." 
 
 " There are several people, if you could give 
 a reference, would make room ; but, as a rule, 
 there are not many let regularly." 
 
 "What time do you leave at night? Perhaps 
 you could go round with me, and we could go back 
 to the Feathers to supper." 
 
 " At five o'clock, if it will suit you, and to- 
 morrow we could give you a list of cottages and 
 houses. What's your price ? " 
 
 " Oh, I am not particular up to ten or twelve 
 pounds a year." 
 
 One o'clock struck. Maurice got down his 
 other coat and prepared to depart for dinner. Mr. 
 Harker looked inquiringly.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 243 
 
 " I am going to dinner. Good day for the 
 present." 
 
 '' Come and have a glass." 
 
 "Not now, tliank you." 
 
 *' "Where is the vicarage ? " 
 
 "About two hundred yards off; the top of the 
 town; green gate and brick pillars, privet hedge," 
 and they separated. 
 
 Jonathan Harker went back to see Pod and 
 report progress. 
 
 " I've come back, sir." 
 
 " Well, found anything yet ? " said Pod. 
 
 " No ; but I expect to shortly. No one saw the 
 young un speak to his father, but that ain't much. 
 If they got the papers, they are fools to go so far 
 as they did ; but if they haven't, they'll set some 
 one to work. You always trusted me before, so if 
 you'U tell me all now I can commence work. You 
 haven't yet." 
 
 "Go to the Feathers and dine. You can 
 come back for a written testimonial the vicar pro- 
 mised you, and I will in the mean time put it all 
 down on paper for your guidance. After that you 
 must not come again too soon. These little places 
 breed gossip Hke meat does maggots."
 
 244 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Harker grinned acquiescence and departed. 
 When he returned, about three o'clock, Pod had all 
 the particulars written out for Harker's guidance, 
 who, after carefully looking it over, said — 
 
 " I find there were five people might have them 
 — Matthew Elgood, James Maunder, Gabriel St. 
 John, Edward St. John, and Maurice Jones. Now, 
 Gabriel didn't have them for certain, which reduces 
 it to four. James did not, because he had not got 
 the chance, which again reduces it to three. Now, 
 the worst thing for us would be that Edward St. 
 John had them, 'cause he can't be paid or per- 
 suaded unless he has debts. If he has, he is the 
 man ; if he has not, I don't think he is. You will 
 receive reports from yom' office, when necessary, 
 how business is going on, in envelopes directed in 
 your own hand; so just do me half a dozen now, 
 please, sir." 
 
 Silas did as he was requested. 
 
 " All right. You will receive the first report on 
 Wednesday morning; if anything of importance 
 turns up I shall call." 
 
 Harker went back to the Feathers and made 
 arrangements for supper, and again strolled out
 
 LITTLEDALE. 245 
 
 till five o'clock. When Mamice came out he found 
 him waiting in the street outside. After looking at 
 several, two rooms were fixed on at Jacob Higgs's. 
 In answer to the demand for references, Jonathan 
 paid a sovereign down in advance. They then 
 adjom*ned to the Feathers, where a private room 
 and a tripe supper awaited them. Their hunger 
 being appeased, Jonathan ordered a bottle of 
 brandy and hot water. He poured the brandy 
 into another bottle, which he always carried. It 
 was of peculiar construction. It had a division 
 down the centre ; in the one side he pom-ed three 
 parts of the brandy, and one quarter into the other. 
 The side he intended for his own consumption 
 had a little toast and water in it ah'eady. The 
 bottle was not a very clear one, so that he could 
 manipulate the glasses of s^Drnts of various 
 strengths for himself and guest. 
 
 " I say, Jones, could you put me up to a job — 
 I dare say you could — about these lost papers I 
 heard the landlord talking about ? I have nothing 
 to do, and have often thought I should make a very 
 good detective." 
 
 Maurice had nearly got through his first glass.
 
 246 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Tlie suggestion was just -what he wanted to make, 
 but lie had been afraid of showing his hand. 
 
 " The governor would insist on a testimonial 
 of character, I expect, if you was ^Dut on the 
 job." 
 
 '' All right, I've got one. Here it is." 
 It was a paper very dii'ty and worn fi'om being 
 carried in the pocket, and stated the bearer was a 
 careful, prudent man, and had collected the rents 
 of William Opie, of Tottenham Com't Eoad, for 
 four years, and was discharged in consequence of 
 the sale of the property. 
 
 "That will do. It's all right if Mr. Smith 
 writes to WiUiam Opie, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Right as a trivet. How much do you think I 
 should get a week ? " 
 
 " Nothing. You will have to go on the bargain 
 ' No cm-e, no pay.' " 
 
 " But can your governor j)rove his right to 
 them ? " 
 
 *'I suppose so," and Maurice winked. "He 
 would prefer getting them on the quiet ; he would 
 get better paid, and you too." 
 Jonathan winked in return.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 247 
 
 ^' Now to business. Can you put me up to 
 anything in the matter ? Take another glass." 
 
 This glass was stronger considerably than the 
 last, and unlocked the tongue of Maurice. 
 
 "Yes. He thinks that those fellows who go 
 round with rags and bones got them, but if any- 
 body had them as knew their value, they are worth 
 a lot of money." 
 
 "Why?" asked Jonathan, apparently looking 
 with great deference at the other. 
 
 " 'Cause they can tell who is and Avho is not the 
 heh' to the Chiveydale property, to be sure." 
 
 Jonathan knocked over his glass in his excite- 
 ment; the last speech of Jones's had been a slip 
 of the tongue. Jonathan refilled both glasses and 
 proceeded. 
 
 " If I am not paid by the week, them as paid 
 most should have them, and I would give anybody 
 a share as helped me." 
 
 Maurice now looked at his watch ; he said it 
 was late. He was quite or nearly sober, and was 
 filled with disgust at himself that he had been such 
 a fool as to let out so much. Jonathan pressed 
 him to stay. He looked half dazed for a minute ;
 
 248 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 suddenly his face assumed a look of great delight, 
 which puzzled Jonathan very much indeed. He 
 stayed and drank, but nothing else could Jona- 
 than get out. As the clock was on the stroke of 
 twelve, he departed in high glee, and promised to 
 see Jonathan to-morrow. 
 
 When Maurice woke next morning, he took the 
 opportunity to write a letter to a friend of his in 
 London : — 
 
 " Littledale. 
 ^^Dear Will, 
 
 "You always said you were willing to do 
 
 a thing or two for me ; I want you to do it now. 
 
 Get at once, and send to the post-office here to 
 
 be called for, a bundle of old paper, plain but 
 
 dirty ; also three or four i)ieces of parchment that 
 
 have been used before, but cleaned with acid ; also 
 
 enclose a small piece of liquorice and cochineal. 
 
 Get the paper with no date in the water-mark, 
 
 if you can ; if you can't, send half sheets. I 
 
 enclose stamps to the amount of ten shillings. 
 
 Send by return, as it is important, 
 
 " All the people down here much as usual. 
 
 Sally B has not yet got a i)lace, and lives with
 
 LITTLEDALE. 249 
 
 her aunt, who is reconciled to her ; but Sail is not 
 to your departure, so you had better not show here 
 at present. 
 
 "Yours very truly, 
 
 " Maurice Jones. 
 " Mr. William Green." 
 
 Harker was waiting for Maurice next day, to 
 improve his acquaintance ; but Maurice said he 
 must go to the post-office for stamps, and left 
 Jonathan rather abruptly. 
 
 Jonathan followed as Maurice left the post. 
 He wanted seven ninepenny stamps ; the jDOst- 
 mistress went to another room to get them. Half 
 a sheet of penny stamps was on the counter, also 
 some loose ones. Quick as thought, Jonathan 
 leaned over into the window where the letter-box 
 was, and turned over the last letter. It was 
 directed in a legal hand, so he knew he was right : 
 
 *' Mr. William Green ^ 
 
 Care Messrs. Doem <f Co., 
 
 Chancery Lane, 
 
 London.'' 
 
 " What time does the London post go ? "
 
 250 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 "Four o'clock," said the post-mistress. 
 
 " Do you sell many stamps ? " 
 
 '* No, I don't ; I wish I did. Lawyer Smith is 
 my best customer ; he had a sheet yesterday, and 
 Mr. Jones bought half another sheet to-day. They 
 must have a lot of letters." 
 
 " I should think so ; " and Jonathan departed. 
 
 Jonathan went into his room at the Feathers, 
 and also wrote a note to a friend of his near 
 Chancery Lane : — 
 
 " Only for one day 
 
 William Green, ' 
 
 Doem d- Co., 
 
 Chancery Lane, 
 
 London, 
 till post time. Write during day anything of im- 
 portance. Take a cab to Central P. 0., and get 
 posted letter. Direct — 
 
 Mr. J. Harker, 
 
 The Feathers, 
 
 LittledaleJ* 
 
 Jonathan, feeling satisfied with his progress, 
 walked down to Matthew's shop. He again
 
 LITTLEDALE. 251 
 
 spoke about the boots, and bought a pair. James 
 was in the shop alone. He then said to James, 
 having given a good look at his face — 
 
 '' Can you keep a secret ? " 
 
 " Eather," said James. 
 
 " All your people out ? " 
 
 " No. Governor's upstairs ; all the rest are, 
 except the servant." 
 
 " Send her out for something, and let me look 
 at your back garden, and I'll give you a sovereign." 
 
 James hesitated not a minute. The love of 
 gold had risen higher and higher in his soul ; with 
 the difficulty of acquisition the love had increased. 
 Jane was despatched for a piece of cheese. Jona- 
 than was trying all sorts of games with the curtain 
 in the shop, but it could not be made to do any- 
 how. He looked puzzled. James returned and 
 held out his hand, in which Jonathan placed a 
 sovereign. The garden was searched over with no 
 result. 
 
 " I thought your girl said she saw marks ? " 
 
 "Yes; but they were not footmarks. There 
 was a mark nearly round, and a little one another 
 shape, but smaller, and then a little one at the 
 side ; they were not very plain."
 
 252 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 They returned to the shop. 
 
 " Does your curtain always stand where it does 
 now?" 
 
 *' Certainly not. It is on an iron rod that fixes 
 to sockets. It was the other side on Saturday. 
 We change it every week." 
 
 " Good day ; " and Jonathan walked to the door. 
 
 But he looked so long and earnestly that 
 James was half afraid he wanted to come back and 
 rob the shop. At length he went, but not far, for 
 he walked round to the back and looked at the back 
 door. It was in an ill-kept lane, but on a stone he 
 found the mark of a man's heel well defined. 
 
 *' I've got it," he said, " and the only question 
 is how much to offer." 
 
 He was so elated that he did not look at the 
 passers-by. Consequently he knocked against the 
 next one, who said — 
 
 " Now, then, how much more ? " 
 
 " I beg " But Jonathan stopped and looked 
 
 with amusement at the stranger. "Why, Jack 
 Harrison, how come you here ? Glad to see you." 
 
 The two men shook hands and adjourned to the 
 Feathers.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 253 
 
 " What are you after, Jack ? " 
 
 " Cutting corns, to be sure. I am travelling in 
 the Hne." 
 
 " It won't do, Jack." 
 
 "Well, jDerhaps you'll tell me what I am come 
 for." 
 
 " Yes, I will. You are after some papers which 
 you have left behind at the Manor." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 " Why, of coui'se, old Mr. St. John made a 
 fool of you to send you hunting for what he's got. 
 Bless you, they are safe in the strong box at 
 Stratton." 
 
 " How did they get there ? " 
 
 "Why, Mr. Edward St. John gave them to the 
 coachman, to be sure. A man of yom- talent can 
 soon see that." 
 
 "What are you after, then?" said Jack Harri- 
 son, rather sulkily. 
 
 " Same lay, dear boy. So much a week and 
 all expenses, so I am going to stay as long as I can 
 doing nothing. It's a change after London. Do 
 you like fishing? I am going this afternoon," con- 
 tinued Jonathan, with imperturbable good humour.
 
 254 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 Jack very sulkily said he was going somewhere 
 else. Harker continued to press and Jack Harri- 
 son to refuse, until Harker said — 
 
 " Very well ; I'll go by myself." 
 
 Maurice Jones had, what was very rare with 
 him, an afternoon walk. He had to go and get 
 some tithes from a village three miles off ; so he 
 set off in high feather, walking along the road, and 
 as he walked his thoughts ran very agreeably to 
 himself. 
 
 " I shall get — at least, I hope to — a hat full of 
 money for the papers from each party. I will 
 make copies and then mix up originals and copies 
 so that Old Nick couldn't tell this from that. I'll 
 cut old Joshua. I'll stick up to Clara. She is a 
 very nice girl ; I could not do better, and would 
 look well. The only thing is that cursed parson is 
 sniffing after her. But I don't suppose he has 
 spoke yet ; if he has, I'll try and best him. That 
 toad James thinks I had the papers. P'raps I had. 
 What's that to him, beastly sneak ? And young 
 St. John was sweet as well, only Matthew put a 
 stopper on it. I dare say something will turn uj) ; 
 if it don't, I'll make it. As for that prying fellow
 
 LITTLEDALE. 255 
 
 Harker, I'll give him a dose tie won't like. Clara 
 don't like me jet, but she will if I play my cards 
 right. She's only a girl, and all girls can be 
 frightened or persuaded ; besides, she don't get on 
 well with James and Eobert. I'm sm-e I could get 
 on in London with a lump of cash in hand. I can 
 be a gentleman. I've got brains ; why shouldn't 
 I? Others have. Dash my wig! I'U begin to- 
 night. Every one tries to cheat me if they can, 
 and why can't I get what I can ? So I will ; " and 
 he stepped out, transacted his business, and 
 returned. 
 
 He found on his return that Gabriel had been 
 to the office. "Good!" he sohloquized, as he re- 
 turned a short way up one of the lanes and picked 
 a small bunch of dog-roses. " Yes," he said, 
 looking at the bunch ; " they are more pretty than 
 I am, but I have more brains, so now for the open- 
 ing of the ball. I've looked out quite a good 
 quotation to use. The parson hasn't showed up 
 since he came back. That's one to me. ' Fortune 
 favours the bold.' " 
 
 He went to his lodgings, made a fresh arrange- 
 ment of his nosegay, smartened his dress, and
 
 256 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 called at Matthew Elgood's shop. Robert was in 
 attendance ; the others were having tea. He was 
 sitting sadly on a chair. 
 
 " I came for my boots," said Maurice. 
 
 *' Here they are," said Eobert sadly. He 
 shared the suspicions of James about Maurice. 
 
 ** James in and disengaged? I wanted to see 
 you two." 
 
 James came out, and the accomplished schemer 
 began to lay his toils. In an absent manner, he 
 handed Eobert rather too much money. He thus 
 ajDpealed to that which was the master of the two, 
 and inclined them, against their better judgment, 
 to look on him more favourably.
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 James and Kobert waited for Maurice to begin. 
 
 " I lodged, as you know, with Matthew for some 
 time, and it was then I became acquainted with his 
 good heart; and now I cannot see Matthew and 
 those I wish to serve in danger of losing their own 
 because of family misfortunes. But if you mistrust 
 me say so at once, and I will go. I risk a great 
 deal by saying so much." 
 
 Both hearers could only assent. Apparently, he 
 had nothing to gain and everything to lose. 
 
 Maurice continued : " I was sent out of the way 
 to-day when Mr. Gabriel St. John called, but re- 
 tm-ned sooner than the governor thought. The 
 door was ajar, and I heard Mr. Gabriel and him 
 talking. Mr. Gabriel said " 
 
 YOL. I. S
 
 258 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 '^ What ?" said the brothers together. 
 
 " I can only tell it in the presence of Matthew." 
 
 The brothers both went inside, bundled out 
 Jane into the other regions, and persuaded Clara 
 to go upstairs. Matthew was apprised of the facts 
 as far as they had gone. At the first glance he 
 mistrusted Maui'ice ; but the recollection that he 
 had always paid his rent regularly, and the sug- 
 gestions of the two brothers that he had nothing 
 to gain by coming to them, nearly extinguished the 
 doubt in his mind. Maurice was invited in and 
 asked to take a seat. James sat at the parlour 
 door, so as to command a view of the shop ; 
 Eobert sat by Matthew, who was sitting by the 
 fii'eplace ; Maurice sat at the other side of the table, 
 with his back to the door leading into the passage. 
 
 Maurice began afresh better than ever, but first 
 he took out two or three bits of paper from his 
 j)ocket, which were mixed with one or two trifles, 
 and put them down by the nosegay. 
 
 *' You see, Mr. Elgood, ever since I lodged with 
 you I have never been so comfortable, and the con- 
 sequence is I have really often stayed at the office 
 instead of going home ; and when I was copying
 
 LITTLEDALE. 259 
 
 drafts and things, instead of only coi^ying, I tried 
 to understand them. I found that the title of all 
 property was very complicated, but that some near 
 here was very defective indeed ; that property was 
 often sold, and deeds omitted that settled it other- 
 wise. Now, James and Eobert's grandfather was 
 a very careful man ; but all mention of him is 
 omitted in the sale of pieces of the Grange estate, 
 and I have often thought it was done with a pur- 
 pose. Now, James Maunder, your father, sold the 
 estate to Mr. Smith, my governor, in a very hurried 
 way, and had no lawyer on his side to stand out 
 for price; but, on the other hand, Mr. Joshua 
 would never have given so small a price if he 
 thought the title so very clear, and the papers now 
 lost — who can tell where they are? — may have 
 contained (I think they did) something relating to 
 the Grange estates." 
 
 ''But why, in that case, did Mr. Gabriel want 
 them ? " said Matthew. 
 
 " They may have been papers of the Stratton 
 estates as well. Mr. Lionel Maunder was a very 
 rich man ; he may have lent money on mortgage 
 on the Stratton estates, which deeds once burnt
 
 260 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 leave no trace; but deeds of settlement -svoiild be 
 necessarily kept as proof of title." 
 
 "What do you i^ropose to do?" said Eobert, 
 who had with difficulty followed the line of argu- 
 ment. 
 
 "To search fm'ther; but unless you give me 
 your friendship I shall not proceed. I make no 
 stipulation for myself, only if you get back all 
 that is your own, perhaps you would not mind 
 letting me collect the smaller rents. You might 
 give me, say, one hundred pounds a year, which 
 is plenty to live on. I do not look for myself 
 entirely." 
 
 "But how can you proceed? You are not 
 a lawyer yet," said Matthew. 
 
 " No, Mr. Elgood ; but I have saved money, 
 and with such a hope before me of doing good, I 
 should go to London and qualify myself." 
 
 Matthew felt a glow at the fancied discovery of 
 a kindred spirit, and said at once — 
 
 " You must come to supper here to-night." 
 
 Maurice had fished for this invitation, but, with 
 his usual talent, half declined. 
 
 " No, sir, I should fancy I was being bought ;
 
 LITTLEDALE. 261 
 
 but I will look in in the evening, later, say at eight 
 o'clock." Saying which, he rose to depart. 
 
 All three attended their newly found friend into 
 the shoxD. The door immediately opened on the 
 j)assage, and Clara came in. The schemer, who 
 was last, saw his opportunity was come. She 
 had taken up the wild roses. He came back, and, 
 feigning confusion, made a snatch at the papers, 
 but left the roses and speedily went into the shop. 
 Clara went back a step, again advanced, and took 
 up the flowers. There was a piece of paper tied 
 round the stems, not very carefully. Matthew, 
 James, and Eobert lingered a moment looking out 
 into the street. The future was assuming a bright 
 hue that only hope can lend. When we see a 
 something glittering far off in the path of life, we 
 image it to be the diamond of truth that will cut 
 our way to fortune or adorn its possession, whereas 
 it is most commonly a piece of broken glass, 
 that cuts the fingers grasping it, or injures the feet 
 of the traveller as he walks over it. 
 
 Clara took up the wild roses. A thorn pricked 
 her finger, so, putting the wounded finger in her 
 mouth, she went into the kitchen as the others
 
 262 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 returned to the parlour. A small vase was soon 
 filled with water as she said, half to herself — 
 
 *' I will give these back to Mr. Jones when he 
 comes again." 
 
 She was about to throw away the paper that 
 
 wrapped the stems, when she saw some writmg 
 
 on it. As she had never read ''Moore's Irish 
 
 Melodies," it struck her as being very good for 
 
 original composition : — 
 
 " Eemember thee ! yes, while there's life in this heart, 
 It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art ; 
 More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom, and thy showers. 
 Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours. 
 
 " Wert thou all that I wish thee— great, glorious, and free, 
 First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea — 
 I might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow, 
 But oh ! could I love thee more deeply than now ? " 
 
 She was sorry that Maurice was throwing his 
 heart away. " But such things will be," she 
 thought, and took the roses up to her bedroom. 
 When there, she took out the paper and read it 
 again, this time with even greater attention. She 
 had never received anything of the sort before. 
 Cyrus was too bashful, and Edward too cautious. 
 She took them out a third time, and turned the
 
 LITTLEDALE. 263 
 
 paper oyer. It was folded in the centre. On the 
 inner side was more writing ; it was fi*agmentary, 
 but to the point : — 
 
 ** Can I tell — no, I cannot, except by the request 
 of the person injured and deceived — what I have 
 discovered ? I am , the most wretched of men. 
 She ! left with uncongenial companions that under- 
 stand not greatness of soul, above the love of gold ! 
 When I wander in the lane at the back of her house 
 between half-past ten and eleven every night, I feel 
 I could summon courage in the dusk to reveal the 
 tale, but in the daylight never." 
 
 Here it broke off, and Clara was filled with 
 burning cm-iosity, but determined she would not 
 go. The note was not signed ; it might be a hoax 
 or accidental scrap of writing. Then she thought 
 it would be the best plan to see if there was any- 
 thing in it. She could easily go for a minute ; she 
 need not speak. As she looked at the writing a 
 deeper blush came on her cheek. She had never 
 had a tender epistle before, and it moved her. 
 Why had not Cjtus written, if he had not called ? 
 Here was a man who risked all for her sake. She
 
 264< LITTLEDALE. 
 
 could never betray him; but, then, it was such 
 a bold thing. So she thought, ''No, I won't." 
 Then the artful suggestion of being deceived, and 
 '' uncongenial companions," and the remembrance 
 of the disagreement about the parlour ornaments 
 settled the question. Ever since that miserable 
 day she had felt her affection for her brothers less ; 
 they had seemed to move in different orbits. 
 
 Jane called her, so, putting the paper in her 
 pocket, she came downstairs. Matthew was sitting 
 in the parlour with James and Eobert. As she 
 came in, he addressed her — 
 
 ''My dear Clara, we have talked the matter 
 over and come to the conclusion that we unjustly 
 suspected Mr. Jones of taking the papers. You 
 must be very careful not to repeat anything I now 
 tell you ; he has proved himself a true friend, 
 risking for you and your brothers loss of daily 
 bread. He is coming to-night at eight o'clock to 
 tell us further particulars. I thought it best you 
 should be present, as women are proverbially 
 sharp-sighted in such matters. Your brothers 
 thought differently, but are now of my way of 
 thinking. Jane Bright had better be sent out.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 265 
 
 She can go to-night and visit her cousins at the 
 farm ; they will see her home, so we shall be 
 entirely alone." 
 
 Clara had blushed vividly; ITatthew put it 
 down to sui'iDrise and joy. He had made one of 
 those unfoi-tunate mistakes that the best of men 
 make unknowingly. The admission that her 
 brothers wished her absent fi'om the conference 
 gave the words of the note, ''uncongenial com- 
 panions," " confii'mation strong as Holy Writ." 
 
 *''Yery well, lEatthew. I will tell Jane to get 
 the supper ready, and then she can go." 
 
 Mauiice arrived punctually ; he had considered 
 his ground and laid his plans. When he entered, 
 Clara colom-ed, but no one but himself observed it. 
 "It works," he thought. 
 
 Matthew said kindly, " Fii'st, we will have om* 
 bread and cheese." 
 
 Mamice said nothing, but sat down. Theii* 
 ordinary supper was supplemented with cold meat 
 and salad, to which all did justice. The jug of 
 ale was at last exhausted and the table cleared by 
 the exertions of all except Matthew, who sat still 
 thinking. Mamice made himself quite at home
 
 266 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 in an unobtrusive manner that was apparently 
 the reverse of encroaching. The table cleared, 
 Matthew filled his pipe and smoked in a thoughtful 
 manner. 
 
 " You see," began Maurice, " I can only on this 
 occasion give you an idea of what I am going to 
 do, not what I have done, although I have done 
 something now. Mr. Gabriel St. John called at 
 the office while I was out to-day, and I returned 
 while he was there. They got out a lot of the 
 Stratton and Grange deeds; they had the boxes 
 down, because I was called to put them up again. 
 Besides, other people are interested in the matter 
 of the lost papers." 
 
 *' Who ? " said Eobert. 
 
 ** Why, the ^icar ; he and his friend thought 
 such a lot of them, they have employed a detective 
 to hunt them up." 
 
 All four auditors made a movement of sm'j)rise. 
 
 " Yes, it is so, I know for certain. Now, has 
 any one ever asked you, James, Eobert, or Miss 
 Clara, about the family history." 
 
 James and Eobert both said "No," when to 
 their great surprise, Clara said —
 
 LITTLEDALE. 267 
 
 *' I have been asked a great deal. "When I was 
 at Stratton Manor, Mr. Edward was always asking 
 me questions I thought very strange about father 
 and grandfather, and whether I knew who they 
 married ; and he often asked if Mr. Smith bought 
 all the estates, and if I could tell what he gave for 
 them ; and, what was most odd, he was most 
 cmious about my mother, and if she brought 
 any property, and if no property, any deeds or 
 papers." 
 
 " You remember what I thought of a possible 
 mortgage," said Mam-ice, solemnly, who saw a 
 golden opportunity to clear his doubts in another 
 direction of a possible suitor of Clara's. "Did he 
 ever ask or talk of other matters, Clara ? " 
 
 *'No. What should he have to talk about 
 else?" said she, with the slightest suspicion of 
 extra colour-. 
 
 " I think that Mamice is quite correct in his 
 ideas, and that we can do nothing at present 
 except watch. Something may tm*n up of im- 
 portance, if we all keep a look-out. Few things 
 can happen in Littledale and we not hear of it — 
 that is, one or other of us," said James, who had
 
 268 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 been silent, and taken no part in the conversation 
 till now. 
 
 " I've got it. When your poor father was 
 drowned, all his pockets were searched. The 
 papers and a few things were of no use, and were 
 given to me on your behalf. I also had his 
 clothes, but have never looked at them; they 
 brought no very pleasant ideas," said Matthew, in 
 an excited manner. *' You, James, as the eldest, 
 and Maurice, go to the closet at the back of the 
 drawers in my room, and see if anything was left in 
 the coat, and bring down any papers." 
 
 They departed, and were gone half an hour or 
 so. They returned with sundry scrajDS of papers, 
 and the intelligence that the breast-pocket had a 
 hole in the bottom, through which a paper had 
 worked its way down to the bottom. It was pro- 
 duced, and was much decayed and frayed ; but a 
 part was decipherable by Maurice's help : — 
 
 IS 
 
 copy 
 
 
 I 
 
 t a 
 
 eel from 
 
 J. 
 
 thfor I 
 
 ses 
 
 £7 
 
 Ids., and 
 
 ichic 
 
 wa 
 
 half the 
 
 same,""
 
 LITTLEDALE. 269 
 
 Maurice looked at it long and carefully. He 
 then made out the missing parts, which were 
 blotted and decayed by the action of the water : — 
 
 ** Short copy of my property. List of amounts 
 received from J. Smith for land and houses, 
 £7000 13s., and the which was not half the fair 
 value of the same." 
 
 " You see the rest has been torn off and lost. I 
 will take a copy, and wish you good night," said 
 Maurice. 
 
 " "Why go yet ? " said James. 
 
 Maurice looked at Clara, who turned away and 
 said, " I really must say good night." 
 
 The four men all shook hands and separated. 
 Clara had gone into the kitchen. Maurice did 
 not seem to observe her absence and departed. 
 Matthew went to bed and soon fell asleep. He felt 
 fatigued ; since his attack he was not so strong as 
 he had been. James, Eobert, and Clara said they 
 would sit up for Jane, who would soon be there. 
 Ten o'clock struck and she arrived. All then 
 separated for the night. 
 
 " I will see to the bolts, Jane. You are tired,"' 
 said Clara.
 
 270 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 She went to the back door and undid it, then 
 walked across the garden and unfastened the door. 
 She came in looking hot and guilty, although no 
 one was downstairs. She heard James and 
 Eobert talking in low, earnest tones, but their room 
 looked out at the front. The stars shone brightly 
 overhead, but there was no moon. She could hear 
 the palpitating of her heart. She thought she 
 would not go. Then her cmiosity was again 
 aroused, and she went softly down the garden. 
 *' There was no harm," she argued, *' in looking 
 out at the lane in the back." As she did so, a 
 form came from the dark shadow of the wall, and 
 stood in the starlight. It was Maurice Jones. 
 She wished she had not come, but it was too 
 late. 
 
 '^ You have been true and brave," said he. He 
 always complimented people on what he imagined 
 they did not possess, which many people in a far 
 higher station and larger arenas of action have 
 found efficacious in other places. 
 
 *' What have you got to say ? I thought I 
 heard a noise, and came out to see, not expecting 
 to speak to any one."
 
 LITTLEDALE. 271 
 
 "I cannot resist telling yon, as yon ask me, 
 why I wished to see yon. Clara, yon are the star 
 of my hopes and the anchor of my sonl ! " 
 
 "Well, what?" 
 
 '' Have you seen Mr. Clark since his return ? 
 No, you have not ; and why ? Because he is base 
 and wicked, only thinking of money." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 *' Very well. By the advice of his fine fiiend 
 he has kept off." 
 
 "Well, if he has, what was I to him or to 
 you?" 
 
 " You were a good deal to him once, because 
 the papers lost would have brought him wealth 
 and power." 
 
 "And my brothers too." 
 
 " He would have made a bargain for himself." 
 - "Why?" 
 
 " Because he has not since their loss been near 
 you. He came with a lawyer to try and get them, 
 and found them gone. Mrs. Parkhouse told him 
 the story, and he saw a gi'eat deal to be made of 
 them." 
 
 " I cannot tell if I ought to believe you.'*
 
 272 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 " I can. He is waiting to see if they are got 
 back. If they are, he will come back and be 
 received. He is a great man, and rich already, 
 while I am poor at present, as all think. But I shall 
 not be so long. Things have happened ; I shall 
 get wealth and power. I may go to London, but 
 not alone. But if you can be happy, I am content, 
 and will bring my wealth to yom* feet, though life 
 in a little country town is dull to clever people. 
 In a great city are pleasui-es we know nothing 
 of here." 
 
 '' I am content." 
 
 But it had a very discontented tone. He saw 
 his advantage and resumed — 
 
 '*You, my Clara, are beautiful and fitted to 
 shine in those great assemblies of wit and wealth. 
 What is there to amuse in a country vicarage ? 
 Oh, Clara, glance at me once with compassion 
 and I shall be content. Your presence is enough 
 for me." 
 
 Clara was getting excited. She hardly knew 
 where she was ; her legs trembled, and she waxed 
 faint. Maurice, quick as thought, produced a flask 
 from his pocket.
 
 LITTLEDALE. 273 
 
 '* Wet yoiii' lips, or you will faint and be dis- 
 covered. Quick, my love ! " 
 
 She put it to her lips ; it was mellow but strong 
 spirits and water. As a small portion went down 
 her throat, she felt it burn like fire ; but when 
 fairly down, a fire seemed to run through her veins, 
 her heart beat wildly. 
 
 "I must go," she said. *' I shall be missed 
 and ruined." 
 
 " Yes. I only think for you, who might be the 
 queen of society ! I will go at once." 
 
 And he did, but first slipped a ring on her 
 finger. She tottered back to the door, bolted it 
 with frenzied haste, fastened the back door more 
 cautiously, and went to bed — but not to sleep. 
 The first bite of forbidden fruit was pleasant to 
 the taste; the suggestions of pleasure filled her 
 mind with a thrill of dehght. 
 
 Mam-ice went home. He too went to bed, but 
 tossed on his couch. 
 
 " I will gain her or perish in the attempt," he 
 said. 
 
 It was long before sleep sealed his eyelids, and 
 when it did the visions of the night chased one 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 LITTLEDALE. 
 
 another with feverish rapidity. He arose the next 
 morning only half refreshed, but, as he thought of 
 the work of the day, became calmer and murmured, 
 half aloud — 
 
 **My foot is only on the first round of the 
 ladder. Patience ; I must not turn giddy yet." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED AT THE CAXTON PRESS, BECCLES.
 
 Ea 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA