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 THE 
 
 SPITFIRE, 
 
 A NAUTICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 CAPTAIN CHAMIER, R.N 
 
 AUTIIOU DF 
 
 ;en brace," " ja'-'K adams,' itc, 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HENRY COLBURN, PLTBLISHER, 
 
 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1;S40.
 
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 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " It cannot be, Herbert, it cannot be. I 
 can neither relinquish my rights nor my hopes. 
 You know how I have been wronged; you 
 know how bitterly, how cruelly I have been 
 used. My brother — and still he is my brother 
 — has cheated me of my birthright ; and, not 
 contented with crushing me by poverty, has 
 imbued the father of the girl — the only girl I 
 ever loved — with such hatred against me, that 
 I am considered as a dependent where 1 ought 
 to be in affluence — an intruder where I might 
 have been a son.^' 
 
 VOL. I. * B
 
 Z THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " I wish I could assist you, master Albert ; 
 but you know that I am dependent upon your 
 brother ; from the day of his birth have I been 
 under his roof, and although I know your 
 wrongs and feel for you, yet I cannot league 
 myself against the man who has used me well 
 during my manhood, who has sheltered and 
 pensioned me during my old age. 
 
 " But, Herbert, you say that on the night 
 when my father died, Rawlinson, the attorney, 
 and my brother, after the sad event had taken 
 place, never retired to rest, but having de- 
 sired a fire to be lighted in an obscure room, 
 they continued a low whispering conversation, 
 and were only moved from the spot by your 
 rushing to the door, and exclaiming that the 
 chimney was on fire." 
 
 " It is all true. Sir," replied the old servant. 
 ^' On that night when your father was stretched 
 upon his death-bed, I was his principal atten- 
 dant. He had long been drawing gradually to 
 his last moment, and to that last he retained 
 his mtelleet. I remember, as the lamp of life 
 grew dimmer and dimmer, that he became
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 3 
 
 more anxious to speak about you ; your name 
 was constantly upon his lips, and as the voice 
 grew fainter and fainter, the old man pulled 
 your brother towards him ; and I, for I could 
 not be an idle spectator to such a scene, over- 
 heard these words — and I would swear to 
 them, aye even if the axe were ready to sever 
 my head from my body, or the dagger of the 
 murderer at my heart — ^ Ronald,' he said, 
 ' obey my last injunctions — deal honestly, ho- 
 nourably by your brother. His independence 
 will not impoverish you, and he is a good son 
 and an affectionate brother.' " 
 
 " I was not so far, Herbert, but that I could 
 have been summoned in time to catch his last 
 blessing. I had been removed from Raven 
 Castle only a month previously to his death ; 
 and although, the moment the messenger ar- 
 rived, I started in great haste, and there was 
 no delay, yet I did not arrive until the evening 
 after my poor father's death. Coldly, indeed, 
 was I received ; and when I looked to my 
 brother as my protector, I found rather the 
 severity of a master than the affection of a 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 friend. There is some mystery in the affair. 
 It is impossible that my father could have 
 given all — all his immense wealth, with the large 
 estate of Raven Castle, to one brother, to the 
 exclusion of the other, who was his " 
 
 " Favorite," interrupted Herbert. " That 
 there is a mystery, I feel — indeed, I know. I 
 could tell you, young master, of an occurrence, 
 but that I fear you will believe me crazy in my 
 old age. But that these eyes beheld him, and 
 that with unblanched cheeks I followed him — 
 but I must not betray myself, or leave you to 
 imagine that my reason has once wandered, my 
 memory once fled. Be patient; you can do 
 nothing by yourself. Time may unravel the 
 mystery ; but now it is useless to attempt to 
 fathom it. Be content, master Albert, and 
 endeavour to please your brother."' 
 
 " Please him, Herbert ! I swear by heaven, 
 that I have ever attended to his expressed wishes. 
 I have become a slave — I feel myself gradually 
 losing all my energies. I am no longer able to 
 bear up against the slightest grievance ; but 
 when I am rebuked I burst into tears, like a
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 3 
 
 spoiled child, and curse the eyelids which can- 
 not contain the moisture which betrays my 
 
 weakened spirit. I cry, Herbert, d n, I 
 
 cry, when had I but retained my own soaring 
 sj^irit, I could have stabbed — even a brother.'* 
 
 *^ For heaven's sake, my young master -" 
 
 " Call me not master, Herbert ; I am myself 
 a servant — a dependent — cabined — confined-— 
 with a master in my own brother, who will not 
 allow me the slender means I ask to start in 
 life, and who watches me so carefully that I 
 cannot get beyond the long range of Raven 
 Castle, to insure my own Hberty by flight. 
 But come, good faithful old friend, let us drive 
 away this grief, if possible, these useless bursts 
 of passion. Tell me this tale of wonder which 
 failed to frighten you. I wiU be bound for it, 
 some midnight story of horrors is connected 
 with that room in which my father died, and 
 which has since been dismantled, until merely 
 the bare walls remain to enclose the spot on 
 which the best of parents departed.^^ 
 
 " You are right. Sir/' said Herbert, looking 
 carefully around him, " But this way, master
 
 6 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 Albert ; let us strike into this dark shrubbery, 
 and before the bell rings to summon us all 
 within the inner gates, I may have time to tell 
 that which has only been told to one person, 
 and he desired my lips to be for ever closed — 
 not to dare to whisper even to myself the 
 wanderings of my imbecile old mind. But I 
 saw it — by Heaven, I saw it/' 
 
 " Who ordered you, Herbert, but my bro- 
 ther, to guard your tongue ? Who else dares 
 controul the thoughts or even the words, of a 
 free-born Enghshman? But I forget I am 
 free-born and an Englishman, 'and yet I dare 
 not boldly say that I have been cheated, I have 
 been robbed ; but I think so ; and my mind 
 cannot be chained into captivity, like him of 
 old, who stole the fire from heaven, although I 
 doubt if "the vulture gnawed his heart more 
 ravenously than the raven does mine/' 
 
 " Hush, hush ! I heard a footstep ; it seemed 
 to turn to the right towards the long terrace 
 walk which looks upon the flower garden. 
 Stop, I'll listen ; — ^no — although I kept my ear 
 close to the gravel walk, I heard nothing.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 7 
 
 Whenever I think of that night, I see your 
 brother's face — the pale yet deterro-ined coun- 
 tenance he wore, when he said, * Breathe not a 
 word of it, Herbert, or death will follow within 
 twenty-four hours.' I have borne it, and 
 should have borne it on to my grave, but that 
 I feel it weighing me down towards it, and I 
 must speak or die. Now, master Albert, pay 
 attention. I know you will smile at first, 
 perhaps ridicule me ; but others believe, or 
 they would not be so anxious to conceal it. 
 
 " When your father died, great was the la- 
 mentation of the household. We all loved 
 him ; his hand was ever charitable ; the poor 
 but asked, and were relieved. His tenants 
 never were ground down for rents, when the 
 harvest had been bad, or when untoward cir- 
 cumstances had rendered the payments diffi- 
 cult. You cannot fail to remember the distri- 
 butions at Christmas, when bullocks were 
 slaughtered, sheep killed, the castle filled with 
 the tenantry ; and long and loud was the cheer 
 which followed the toast of your father's health 
 as the foaming tankard was passed round, and
 
 8 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 each, as he held the brimming cup, said from 
 his heart and soul, ' God bless him ! ' You 
 know that now, Christmas comes and goes 
 without even a blazing faggot to cheer the 
 gloom of that long hall, which formerly re- 
 sounded with the songs of happiness, and 
 which now is stealthily trodden, as if the walker 
 dreaded lest the echo of his footstep should 
 attract the notice of the present owner of that 
 beautiful castle. 
 
 ^' It was near upon Christmas when your 
 father died — indeed, it was on the twentieth of 
 December that he breathed his last, and it was 
 the day after Christmas day that he was 
 buried. Such an event was sufficient, without 
 the admonition which was so industriously 
 circulated, that the tenantry need not assemble 
 as usual; but they did assemble on the day 
 following, and general and sincere was the 
 feeling so evidently conspicuous ; there was 
 not a man, young or old, on the estate who did 
 not swell the long train of mourners, as the 
 good old man was carried in the large and 
 plumed hearse; and when in the old church
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 9 
 
 there, the ruins of which are covered with the 
 ivy, as if that plant would bind the half-ruined 
 walls together, and like affection in its strongest 
 sense, never relinquishes its hold, until des- 
 truction tumbled the one and destroyed the 
 other. The youthful friend and associate of 
 his old age read the service. The tears which 
 coursed down the furrows of his face, choaked 
 his utterance, and for a time he stopped. Then 
 I tell you, master Albert, there were but two 
 persons unmoved ; one was Sir Ronald, the 
 other the attorney. 
 
 "Around them they might have seen the 
 sorrow of all their neighbours ; some hid their 
 old faces in their hands, whilst their heaving 
 bosoms seemed cramped for breath ; others, 
 not ashamed to show the feelings which agi- 
 tated them, held their heads up, and cried au- 
 dibly. But over Sir Ronald's face there grew 
 no change ; he maintained that cold disdainful 
 air which never varies, even now. He seemed 
 to consider the whole pageant as a necessary 
 toil, which he must labour to overcome ; and 
 he looked at the nodding plumes placed
 
 10 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 upon the bier, under which reposed his father, 
 with all the unconcern of a man, who, having 
 by desperate means arrived at the consumma- 
 tion of his wishes, cares little, very little how 
 he has accomplished it. 
 
 '* The funeral was over, your father's re- 
 mains quietly placed into the vault where sleep 
 those of your mother. One by one the tenants 
 slowly withdrew, until the sexton and your 
 brother were left alone. ^ Once more to the 
 vault,' he said. The trembling menial obeyed; 
 and as he placed his hands upon the coffin, 
 your brother said, with a low but firm voice : 
 ' Rest there 3 and never again break into day- 
 light or moonlight, to know the change which 
 must come over us.' It meant apparently no- 
 thing ; the old sexton thought it a prayer, and 
 the pious reverence of the son was applauded 
 by those who attributed to grief what was the 
 result of pride. 
 
 " From that hour all has been a dreary soli- 
 tude around us. 'Tis true, we eat and drink ; 
 one day is the record of the last and the herald 
 of the following. There is no change ; from
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 11 
 
 that moment no stranger has ventured within 
 the gates. It seems Uke consecrated ground, 
 where no unhallowed step should tread. If 
 this is the joy of life, give me the repose of 
 your father." 
 
 " Proceed, proceed, good Herbert. You 
 have in the fondness for my father, forgotten 
 the tale which provoked these kind reminis- 
 cences — the story, Herbert, which my brother 
 forbade you to tell. Time creeps on ; we have 
 but a few minutes more before we are locked 
 like prisoners in our cells, and our master, like 
 a wary sentinel, sees us in security and in 
 supposed slumber." 
 
 '• ^Tis true, Sir. A month had elapsed since 
 your father's death, when I, from some weak, 
 perhaps superstitious awe of his goodness, 
 resolved to lie one night in the bed he had so 
 often pressed. The door had been carefully 
 locked ; and as I followed your brother to his 
 bed room, I remarked the cautious manner he 
 always fastened the door. This would have 
 deterred most men, but to me it gave all the 
 excitement of curiosity. I thought there must
 
 12 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 be some secret to fathom, and I resolved to 
 fathom it. It was in January, nearly towards 
 the close, that I ventured into the room to 
 sleep. There was no gusty wind rattling 
 against the windows — no pattering rain to 
 startle me in my slumbers, falling^ furiously 
 against the glass. It was a still moonlight 
 night, still as this one, but not near so dark. 
 I did not undress myself, for I was apprehen- 
 sive of cold, but lay down upon the bed, and 
 drawing over me my large cloak, I prepared 
 myself for sleep. 
 
 " At midnight, awaking from a restless 
 slumber, I thought I heard a firm footstep near 
 me. More fearful that it might be your bro- 
 ther than any other intruder, I remained quiet, 
 and inasmuch as man could do it and live, I 
 did not draw my breath ; my eyes were open 
 as now, my ears as quick ; when, as if some 
 sudden flash of lightning had dazzled my sight, 
 F.nd left me in greater darkness, I saw a blaze 
 of light which for a moment deprived me of 
 vision, and on hastily opening my eyes, there, 
 full in my view, dressed in the dress familiar 
 to us all, stood your ''
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 13 
 
 " Hence, babbler ! " interrupted the stern 
 voice of Sir Ronald, who laying his strong 
 hand upon his servant, repeated, " Hence to 
 your prayers ; and remember, Herbert, that 
 twenty-four hours soon flit away, and is but a 
 short respite for man to sum up his long ac- 
 count. Albert, await me in the library, the 
 bell tolls away. Poor blighted blockhead," he 
 continued, as Herbert looked at him to implore 
 forgiveness, '' would you have strengthened 
 the brother in his hatred of his brother? 
 would you have filled his mind with dark fore- 
 bodings of the future, and fearful suspicions of 
 the past ? But that T scorn to wet my dagger's 
 point in such a lily-speckled heart, I would at 
 this moment seal those white lips in everlast- 
 ing silence. Hence ! remember that the sus- 
 picious tyrant of Syracuse never held more 
 attentive ears than I do. Speak but to any 
 one living soul of this meeting,, and to-mor- 
 row's sun shall never shine upon you. Hence, 
 and when I ring my bell, be in attendance in 
 my room ; and listen — you know me well — the 
 bloody hand is not a more marked distinction
 
 14 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 of my lineage^ than is my word of my inten- 
 tion. To your prayers, old man; you have 
 hurried yourself from my service, which load, 
 (for servitude is ever a load} pressed so lightly 
 upon you, that you might have glided slowly 
 and softly into your grave ; but old men are 
 like babbling children ; it seems wisdom to be 
 garrulous ; but the resolved, the prudent, the 
 wise keep the finger of discretion upon the 
 lips of silence/^
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A LARGE fire blazed in the library ; there was 
 warmth and comfort in the apartment. On the 
 round table lay many books, in which were 
 works, as if the reader had left them for future 
 reference. In this room no one but Rawlinson 
 was ever admitted. He seemed privileged, for 
 he brooked [no refusal, he claimed as a right, 
 that which others were denied as a favour. 
 
 In this apartment stood Albert awaiting the 
 return of his brother. The eagle spirit of the 
 lad had been crushed, the eye of youth which 
 generally sparkles with animation, was dimmed
 
 16 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 by solitude and apprehension, he felt himself a 
 prisoner in a castle from which there was no 
 retreat, and that which alarmed him most was 
 the vigilant eye ever upon him. The surround- 
 ing tenantry were spies ; and there seemed a 
 superstitious fear of his brother. Sir Ronald 
 assumed the severe garb of overstrained sanc- 
 tity ; there was the gioomiiness of the ascetic, 
 the calmness of the saint ; but on his lips was 
 stamped that determination which was charac- 
 teristic of the man. His silence, his reserve, 
 was attributed to rehgion; his charity, for he 
 gave not sparingly, was considered another proof 
 of his sincerity ; his abhorrence of wine or was- 
 sail, seemed a confirmation of all. 
 
 The table was covered with the large volumes 
 which were penned by Polycarp, Ireneus, Eu- 
 sebius and writers of that class, who were the 
 pioneers to remove some of the impediments 
 which obstructed the knowledge of the early 
 church: while near them was Erasmus and 
 Luther, Knox, and other similar authors as 
 references. 
 
 There was a great difference between this
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 17 
 
 man, and his only associate Rawlinson, who was 
 an active, giddy, headstrong, pleasure hunting 
 person, fond of his bottle, and latterly having 
 become possessed of some wealth, which was 
 attributed to the last will of an uncle, had ap- 
 peared in an equipage, and supported an es- 
 tablishment, above both his station, and his 
 character. 
 
 Albert had full time to pry into the secret of 
 his brother's studies, there lay upon the table 
 a large family bible, opened at the Epistle to 
 the Hebrews ; and the other volumes open on 
 the table, were all upon this subject. His 
 studies had evidently been to convince him sell 
 that Paul was the author of such Epistle ; and 
 to confute those who had thrown some doubt 
 upon this subject, ascribing it to a Jew of 
 Alexandria, seemed to have been his occupa- 
 tion. 
 
 Albert turned to the large leaf in the bible, 
 on which was recorded the names of his ances- 
 tors, — against all but two, there was written, 
 " died on such a date. The last whose name 
 was rased from the book of life was his father :
 
 18 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 the writing had been done hastily, and the 
 date from the closing of the book had been 
 blotted almost so as to render it illegible. 
 With a pen, he carefully traced over the date, 
 and then having given it due time to dry, he 
 closed the book. As the leaves fell, he saw 
 a loose sheet of writing paper, on which were 
 several figures as if an account of large sums of 
 money. There was an R, and opposite to it 
 £20,000, below it an A, with £135,000 against 
 it. Then was there a line of many figures, from 
 which it appeared that the R was deducted, 
 and the A added, drawing a kind of balance. 
 
 The step of his brother was now heard upon 
 the staircase, and Albert, replacing the paper, 
 stood near the fire place. His brother entered, 
 and casting a hasty glance on his table, said in 
 a tone of severity, " What, Albert, must you 
 still be prying into that which does not concern 
 you ; could not even my studies be sacred from 
 your curiosity? you have turned over that 
 bible, what made you do it ?" 
 
 " I did, brother," replied the disheartened 
 young man, " I looked at the records of our
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 19 
 
 family, and seeing the date of my father's 
 death but indistinctly marked, I made it legible. 
 
 ^^ And this sheet of paper, Albert, I left it to 
 mark a passage in Isaiah ; it has been removed, 
 it is now in Exodus ?'* 
 
 " It fell from the book, and I not knowing 
 whence it came, replaced it anywhere." 
 
 " After, I presume," interrupted Sir Ronald, 
 " you had made yourself acquainted with its 
 contents." 
 
 " I saw,'^ replied Albert, " nothing but some 
 figures, which I did not understand, and which 
 therefore I do not remember.^' 
 
 " Sit," said the elder brother, pointing to a 
 chair near the fire. '^ Are you a man,'^ began 
 Sir Ronald sternly, " to listen to the tattle 
 of old fools like Herbert, to draw conclusions 
 from a brain-sick fancy of a ghost, and to court 
 that imbecile old servant, to hear his croaks, 
 and his forebodings about future dangers ? tell 
 me, why do you herd with those so much below 
 you ?" 
 
 " Because I have no other associate; you
 
 20 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 scarcely see me ; at dinner we never exchange 
 a word ; and when that is ended, you retire to 
 your study, and leave me to myself, without a 
 friend, without a companion/* 
 
 " The light and the frivolous must ever fly 
 from themselves to burthen their neighbours," 
 remarked Sir Ronald ; " and idleness and want 
 of occupation, lead to love and to ruin. This girl, 
 this Margaret Rawlinson, who is the object of 
 your boyish idolatry must be forgotten ; it is 
 the object of my present interview, to warn 
 you from that hope. Her father will not allow 
 her to unite herself to one, who has no means of 
 supporting her ; and for one just twenty, who 
 has never had spirit enough to work his way in 
 life, but allow his best years to pass in useless 
 indolence, thus rashly to marry were to entail 
 misery upon both.'^ 
 
 " Is this fair or generous of you, Ronald, 
 thus to rebuke me with poverty, to censure me 
 for my idleness, when heaven knows that I have 
 made frequent request that you would place me 
 in any situation of life rather than leave me to
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 21 
 
 that idleness, which I hate as much as you 
 despise. 
 
 "Here are books, — read." — 
 
 " To what end am I to plod over books when 
 I cannot gain the advantage of conversation 
 with any one ; place me any where but where I 
 am — and I feel I have energy enough to pursue 
 my own path." 
 
 " To ruin," interrupted Sir Ronald ; " when 
 did you see Margaret last ?" 
 
 " The day before yesterday." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In the shrubbery where you found Herbert 
 and myself this evening." 
 
 " And your conversation ?" 
 
 " Was of our attachment. I told her that in 
 her society alone I forgot my miseries, and that 
 being with her, alleviated all my cares and 
 solaced all my inquietude.^^ 
 
 " A pretty speech for a love stricken boy ! — 
 I have altered my intentions towards you — I 
 must see more of you — this room is now open to 
 you, excepting when Rawlinson calls. He has 
 business with me often concerning my estates —
 
 22 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 yours should I die — by inheritance. Here you 
 must remain for the present — and surely in the 
 noble view of the castle, if merely oyer the sea 
 which foams and breaks hke a petulant child 
 against the shingles, but is ever varying in its 
 colour, some reflection, some occupation might 
 be given to your mind, — in me, these objects 
 bring with them a salutary lesson — the wave 
 which succeed its predecessor is but a type 
 of the human race, so its boundless expanse 
 in the emblem of eternity, and its roar 
 and its breakers, to the noise and the tur- 
 moil of life — its calm surface in the easy con- 
 science which reflects the heaven that is within 
 it ; its agitation, the despair of the guilty, and 
 the cowardly. You will in this room find much 
 to employ your time; but think not of Margaret, 
 she can never be yours, and above all, hold no 
 converse with Herbert; I may discharge him to- 
 morrow. The man who could fill the mind of a 
 lad so young as yourself, with brain-sick fancies 
 of mighty phantoms, is not a fit companion for 
 you ; besides those days are passed when the 
 familiarity of old dependants was encouraged.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 23 
 
 You should have more pride, boy ; now go to 
 supper, and leave me to my meditations and 
 my prayers. Good night, Albert, to-morrow we 
 will talk about your future path in life, and 
 think over what I have said. Margaret is a sweet 
 girl, a lovely creature ; but she is below you in 
 life ; besides for a young man of ts\'enty, with- 
 out means to marry before his mind is formed, 
 it is rashness, Albert, it is absolute madness. 
 Think of this ; good night." 
 
 " He is gone," said Sir Ronald, " hke a 
 stricken deer with the arrow in his heart, 
 rankling and poisoning the stream of life ! 
 what would I not give now for even his feel- 
 ings ! Who is there loves me ? No one ; 
 like the tyrant who is feared, I roam about 
 the large domain which calls me owner ; but 
 I have no one with whom I can associate, 
 and the man, the only man who forces him- 
 self upon me is the mirror of my own guilty 
 conscience, the participator in my crime, the 
 only one who can benefit by my folly. 
 
 " Now will I endeavour to balk the views 
 of Rawlinson, He lords it over me, aye, and
 
 24 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 threatens me with exposure, whilst he drains 
 me of large sums to meet his overgrown ex- 
 penses; he has yet some desperate game to 
 play, which to-morrow may disclose. Oh 
 that I could be a wandering beggar cast 
 naked upon the moors, rather than remain 
 the ^dllain that I am, and feel the hell— the 
 fury of remorse that preys upon me ! it is 
 my only consolation to know that I can inflict 
 misery upon others. Albert is gone to supper 
 — having heard the beauty of Margaret praised 
 — and be denied the prospect of again be- 
 holding her. These books have served their 
 turn. I am believed religious —moral — calm 
 — contented. Pshaw ! how easily are we poor 
 worms blinded by appearances ! — how little 
 do we know, whilst the honey of a smile is 
 upon the lips, the gall which is corroding the 
 heart ! Night after night my father's spirit 
 haunts me, I fear to marry lest in exclamations 
 in sleep I should betray the secret of my 
 bosom. ' Good night,' I said to Albert — 
 would I could say so to myself and hope it 
 might be so. To bed — to bed — but not to
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 25 
 
 sleep — the soft slumber which recruits the 
 wearied, is denied to him whose conscience 
 never slumbers — the pale wan features which 
 the many disturbed nights have fixed upon my 
 face — shews me every morning how gradually 
 I am becoming the prey of my own mind — 
 Ah!^' 
 
 " My dear brother, I have thus hastily re- 
 turned to tell you that Mr. Rawlinson is here 
 — he is anxious to see you — says he must, he 
 will see you. I left him draining a tumbler 
 of wine, which he did not wait to be invited 
 to take — and having called your servants, he 
 has desired some supper to be brought.'^ 
 
 " Go to him, Albert ; it is your interest to 
 speak kindly to him — he is Margaret's father ; 
 and bid him, when he has supped, to meet 
 me here ; go. That man is my bane — what 
 would I not give to murder him ! Ah ! what 
 a wretch, a poor weak wretch I am ! it would be 
 only another crime, and his absence might 
 restore me to some peace of mind ; here I will 
 await him, for I dare not shun him — his 
 coming at this unseasonable hour forbodes no 
 
 VOL. I, c
 
 26 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 good ; — he too I have deceived — he believes me 
 religious — one sensible of the committed fault 
 and eager to atone for it ; — he fears I may- 
 betray him as much as I fear his betrayal of 
 me. I must be apparently studious." 
 
 Having opened some works of the ancient 
 writers, Sir Ronald sat himself down before 
 the large bible. 
 
 His sorrow- stricken features might have 
 deceived a steadier eye than Rawlinson's. The 
 want of sleep, the harassing of a guilty con- 
 science, had contributed to waste away his 
 form ; his tall, gaunt, ungainly figure, moved 
 slowly forward with slow and solemn step ; 
 the laughter of hilarity never brightened his 
 countenance, and when he spoke, his words 
 came forth in a slow, steady, measured tone, 
 which his sepulchral voice rendered discordant 
 to the ear. 
 
 Instead of pursuing any study. Sir Ronald 
 tutored himself to hear vrLth. calmness any 
 proposition which Rawlinson might make, 
 being well aware that any ebullition of passion 
 would only render him more likely to fall
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 2j 
 
 into the snare of the fowler. Nearly half an 
 hour had elapsed when Rawhnson ushered 
 himself into the presence of Sir Ronald ; with 
 the air of easy familiarity, he threw himself 
 into a large arm-chair, and saying : " This is 
 no time for prosing over books, Sir Ronald ; 
 I came to speak to you on an important point, 
 to which you will do well to attend.^' 
 
 " I am here, Mr. Rawlinson, and ready to 
 hear whatever you may say." 
 
 '' Your brother seeks to marry my daughter^ 
 it must not be, you must stop this affection, 
 Margaret has this day mentioned the substance 
 of a conversation, which, if not actually a de- 
 claration of affection, is tantamount to it. I 
 have higher views for her — this shall not 
 be." 
 
 " I have this evening spoken to my brother 
 about it. I have warned him of the conse- 
 quences of such boyish indiscretion; I have 
 endeavoured to move his pride to his rescue." 
 
 '^ His pride 1 Margaret's pride should have 
 taught her better. Hear me, proud man; I 
 hold your life in my hands ; proof as clear as 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 the noon- day sun/' continued Rawlinson, in 
 a low steady whisper, " which no subtlety 
 could overthrow, no quibble evade, is in my 
 grasp ; and if you throw but a hint of pride 1 
 I'll humble yours, or lead you to adorn a 
 tree/' 
 
 " You are moved, Rawlinson, into an un- 
 seemly passion. Be cool; you tell me you 
 wish this affection crushed; I tell you it is 
 done. What more do you want ?" 
 
 " Want !" ejaculated Rawlinson, " I want — 
 not to be insulted. What did you mean by 
 pride ? the pride of the lofty family of Raven's 
 Castle, which would be followed by an alliance 
 with a Rawlinson ! Poor foolish fellow ! pore 
 over those thick musty volumes which treat of 
 past, and neglect the great book of human 
 life which I study. When for that paltry sum 
 of money I consented to come into your views 
 — to burn that which would have passed from 
 you an enormous wealth ; do you think I was 
 that idiot to disarm myself, by destroying the 
 original document? It was but the duphcate 
 that fire consumed; the real deed is in security.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 29 
 
 where even your ingenuity will fail to discover — 
 that might humble your pride, for guilt levels 
 all distinction ; there is no difference between 
 forgerers, even although one may be garbed 
 as a baronet, and the other wander homeless 
 through life. The great and small are alike, 
 when once the higher stoops to an act which 
 would degrade the lower. Do you find this 
 written in those large books, or must your 
 pride be taught wisdom by an attorney ?'* 
 
 " Proceed, RawUnson," replied Sir Ronald, 
 with great composure. " I am indebted to you 
 for wisdom upon more points than one. If 
 this is true which you have now averred, you 
 have added a little more to my ancient lore, 
 and taught me this : — that one man should 
 never place confidence, even in the oath of an- 
 other. We shall do no good by this fooHsh 
 quarrel. I have done what you required ; what 
 more do you ask r" 
 
 " To humble your pride still more. Can I 
 forgive this insult ? *' I called his pride to the 
 rescue.' Know this, de Lancy — for Sir Ronald 
 de Lancy has yet a mystery attached to it —
 
 30 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 remember this hint : that confidential agents 
 know more of family secrets than family honour 
 can brook. You are useful to me now, so I 
 retain you. I have you in my net, through 
 the meshes of which you can never escape. 
 Now, hear me ; whilst I lower your pride to 
 the level I require — you shall marry my daugh- 
 ter yourself ! She, who was too low of birth 
 for your disinherited brother — too much be- 
 neath the pride of the younger son, shall be 
 the wife of the heir who bears the title ! What 
 say you to this, de Lancy ?" 
 
 " That you are intemperate, and wanting 
 that coolness and discretion which has marked 
 your character. It is impossible, without your 
 imagination is heated, that the word pride 
 could have at once made you enter on so mad 
 a scheme. You must have prepared this cool- 
 ness and pretended anger to seize at a shadow. 
 I shall not imitate your example, and I shall 
 not answer to your proposition until you may 
 find it convenient to call before diimer." 
 
 " I understand the allusion," replied Raw- 
 linson; "drunk or sober, I swear by heaven
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 31 
 
 that you shall marry my daughter I You shall 
 settle upon her the sum that I shall name ; 
 and before to-morrow*s sun goes down, the 
 report shall be industriously circulated ; — that 
 is settled, de Lancy. You know me as well as 
 I know you ; we are both determined men ; 
 but I have all to gain, you sufficient to lose ; — 
 enough of this. What has become of Her- 
 bert ?" 
 
 '' How should I know?" replied Sir Ronald. 
 
 " You do know," replied Rawlinson, " and 
 I know you do. Margaret was close to you 
 when you interrupted the old fool in his bab- 
 bling ; and after you dismissed your brother, 
 she followed you towards the chfF, until, appre- 
 hensive that she must be discovered, she re- 
 traced her steps, waiting to meet Albert, who 
 by appointment was to have met her there. 
 She saw you return ; and although she waited 
 until the second bell rang, when all gates are 
 closed: except to your intimate friend, myself, 
 Herbert did not and has not returned. I 
 dare say," continued Rawlinson, with a 
 searching look, "the poor old fellow got so
 
 32 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 close to the cliffy that he tumbled over acci- 
 dentally, and will never again disturb us with 
 a report of fire !'^ 
 
 Sir Roland's face underwent no change ; 
 there was a calmness over his features, which 
 would have defied the scrutiny of a quicker eye 
 than Rawlinson's. He answered in his usual 
 measured tone i 
 
 '' When he is weary of wandering, he mil 
 return. His age and long services render him 
 a privileged man.'^ Then starting a little from 
 his usual reserve, he said, " He was the only 
 one who could have betrayed us, Rawhnson ; 
 and such an accident as you surmise, although 
 very dreadful, would not be so very disagree- 
 able to either you or me." 
 
 " To you it might be serviceable, to me it is 
 immaterial ; indeed his life is precious to me 
 in one respect, inasmuch as his evidence would 
 tend to confirm mine.'^ 
 
 " Yours, Rawlinson ?" said de Lancy, as he 
 slowly raised his eyes ; ^' in what manner is 
 your evidence to be given?" 
 
 " Merely in the event of your non-compli-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 33 
 
 ance with my desire ; then I shall disrobe you 
 of your grandeur, and turn you over, if not to 
 the executioner, to a society in whose company 
 abroad you may forget your pride ! I think it 
 is Plato who says, ^ Pride is always the com- 
 panion of solitude/ In the company of other 
 felons you will shake off that unwholesome re- 
 serve !" 
 
 '^ You have quoted a good old writer, Raw- 
 linson ; 1 ^-ill quote you another : Isocrates, in 
 inculcating the duties of a sovereign to Xico- 
 cles, has this passage — ' Shew upon all occa- 
 sions so high a regard for truth, that a single 
 word from you may be more confided in than 
 the oath of others.' Now so little has this 
 maxim been impressed upon your mind, that I 
 teU you your oath is not so much valued by me 
 as the merest assertion of the most perjured 
 witness. If I am a villain, by heaven you are 
 my master in the art." 
 
 Having said this in his usual cold manner, 
 he rose from his seat, turned the key in the 
 door, placed it in his pocket, and resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 c 3
 
 S4 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " What do you mean^ de Lancy, by this con- 
 duct ?'' said Rawlinson, his lips whitening gra- 
 dually with apprehension. " Open that door, 
 or I will make such a clamour that assistance 
 shall come — and then " 
 
 " Be calm^ be steady^ Rawlinson 3 follow my 
 example, do not speak hastily. Now listen to 
 me. Your death is requisite for my security ; 
 you are a villain in whom even another villain 
 cannot repose confidence — the honesty among 
 thieves is not conspicuous amongst us. Move 
 but one inch, open but your mouth to call for 
 assistance, and whatever may happen afterwards, 
 you will never live to see. Now concerning 
 this bond, this will, tell me where it is, and 
 who knows of it ? Mind my injunctions ; you 
 know my determination. One word of alarm, 
 and this bullet is through your brains." 
 
 " My death would not release you one mo- 
 ment," said . Rawlinson ; "the murder would 
 only hasten your end. This anger is useless j 
 it will ruin both, where both might remain in 
 security. The bond or will is in the keeping 
 of another, closely sealed, enveloped in a paper
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 35 
 
 on which the v/hole transaction is recorded. 1 
 have directed that, in the event of my death, 
 either by accident or design, these papers may 
 be deUvered to your brother; and more, some 
 particulars of your birth are there 1 Put up 
 your pistol ; my death is your surest death, my 
 life, the guarantee for yourself." 
 
 ^' You have not been a dull student in de- 
 ceit, Rawlinson ; you are the very prince of 
 attorneys — a man whose wisdom in villainy 
 would astound the most unrighteous. It ap- 
 pears, by your statement, that I am firmly in 
 the net; but to live under such a fisherman 
 would be to sport with the hook in my mouth. 
 My coolness shall be my safeguard. This 
 alternative I offer you : deliver up that original 
 will, and I will marry your daughter ; refuse it, 
 and life being no longer worth having, I will 
 follow old Herbert, but not before I have left 
 enough evidence to convict you.'^ 
 
 " I will deUver up that will to you under a 
 bond, that a certain sum shall be paid to me. 
 It shall be safely lodged in the hands of a third 
 person, to be given you the moment the mar-
 
 36 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 riage is celebrated. You will then be doubly 
 safe ; for no parent would seek to impoverish 
 his own child, more especially when he gains 
 by her affluence.^^ 
 
 " You have deceived me once, Rawlinson,"' 
 slowly replied de Lancy ; ^^ what security have 
 I that this original document shall come to my 
 hands ?'^ 
 
 " The security of my daughter, de Lancy ; 
 this marriage renders both secure. I can then 
 no longer threaten you; you no longer can 
 outwardly despise me.'' 
 
 "And ray brother — what is to become of 
 him?'' 
 
 " Easily managed. Do you tell him of 
 your attachment to Margaret. I will arrange 
 the rest." 
 
 " But your daughter loves him, Rawlinson ; 
 how is her affection to be warped ?" 
 
 " Leave that to me ; to-morrow your pro- 
 position shall be made. She will not refuse it, 
 and then the sooner these nuptials are cele- 
 brated, the sooner we shall be the better 
 friends. Are you agreed ?"
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 3? 
 
 " I am ; and yet I cannot be agreed, even 
 with myself. This is another act of injustice 
 to Albert, who this day I began to make my 
 companion. I was in hopes that, as I increased 
 in years, I might make ample atonement to 
 him for all the injustice I had committed ; that 
 time and age might have taught me repentance 
 and sorrow ; and that by doing that which was 
 lawful and right, I might " 
 
 " Stop,^^ said Rawlinson ; " if you begin, 
 with a murder fresh upon your hands, to talk 
 of prayer and your soul, I shall have no confi- 
 dence in you. You cannot retrace your steps 3 
 you must go on." 
 
 " You do me one injustice, Rawlinson," re- 
 plied de Lancy, quicker than usual. " As I 
 live here, I did not commit a murder upon 
 Herbert. I led the old man to the cliff, abus- 
 ing him for his babbling folly. It is true, I 
 did keep him close to the precipice; his old 
 head turned giddy, and he fell into the boiling 
 surf below. The insatiate wave soon must 
 have torn the poor old man from his hold, even 
 if he dug his fingers in the sand with more
 
 38 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 than human strength ; the eddy which whirls 
 beneath the rocky cavern must have drowned 
 him, and long ere this his body has floated far 
 far away. I never touched him." 
 
 " It is remarkably well narrated ; but gen- 
 tlemen do not walk by precipices, on dark 
 nights, without some intentions. Good night, 
 remember to-morrow."
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Left to himself, Sir Ronald had sufficient 
 time to ponder over his situation. His pride 
 had now received its fullest abasement ; and as 
 he thought the more seriously of his future 
 life, he found himself in a vortex, from which 
 there was no escape. 
 
 Sir Ronald had ever been treated as the 
 elder son of his father ; to him was to pass 
 all the inheritance; and never had word es- 
 caped the hps of any which could breathe a 
 doubt as to his legitimacy, until within a few 
 months previous to his father's death. It was 
 then Rawlinson began to ingratiate himself into 
 favour — it was supposed " the worship of the
 
 40 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 rising star." He was tolerated at first, and 
 when sufficiently intimate, hinted a suspicion, 
 which he did so guardedly, that it required an 
 attentive ear to understand. 
 
 Ronald, although proud, was not without 
 curiosity ; and the more he attempted to check 
 it, the more insidiously it worked its way, until 
 at last it had so overpowered him, that he re- 
 solved to satisfy it. 
 
 This was precisely the net which had been 
 spread for him by Rawlinson, who, if he knew 
 little of the ancient world, was conversant 
 enough with human nature. He had watched 
 the trifling impatience of his victim to fathom, 
 by artful questions, the depths of this secret 
 will, and he had answered so guardedly, that 
 the questioner became more eager to learn, 
 without advancing a step, until the moment 
 had arrived when his impatience broke through 
 all restraint. 
 
 The secret was then communicated under an 
 oath that it was never to be revealed, and Ro- 
 nald became possessed of the astounding fact 
 that he was illegitimate, although no stain
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 41 
 
 attached to the character of his mother, she, a 
 natural child and under age, having, in total 
 ignorance of the law, been married without 
 pubUcation of the banns, which, however, being 
 discovered by RawHnson's father, was by his 
 advice so far remedied, that a marriage took 
 place, which was succeeded by the birth of 
 Albert. 
 
 The inheritance, therefore, rested upon the 
 latter, for Ronald, by that law, was not legally 
 born in wedlock, and was consequently de- 
 prived of that which he had ever believed his 
 right. The secret, however, Rawlinson gave 
 him to understand was entirely in his own 
 keeping, the record of it having been trans- 
 mitted to him by his father, who thus gave his 
 son a kind of permanent hold upon the de 
 Lancy family, capable of creating a very com- 
 fortable chancery suit^ which, in those days, 
 was a certain annuity to the attorney. So that 
 Ronald thus found himself, at one fell swoop, 
 deprived of everything ; for his father had by 
 his will (the contents of which Rawhnson well 
 knew, for he had drawn it up) left one hundred
 
 42 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 and thirty-five thousand pounds to Albert, 
 which was the entire sum over and above the 
 real property, which amounted to nearly fifteen 
 thousand pounds per annum, and which was 
 destined for Ronald, his father being led to 
 believe that the secret had died with old Raw- 
 linson, but who was much too good an attorney 
 to allow his son to be ignorant of the fact. 
 
 The picture of absolute poverty, drawn and 
 heightened by Rawlinson, the very idea of sur- 
 rendering to his brother that immense fortune, 
 which he had believed his own, led the proud 
 Ronald to think dishonestly. Thinking and 
 acting are near akin ; we are told that he who 
 looks after a woman with a wicked intent, has 
 already committed adultery in his heart ; and 
 the man who entertains the slightest disho- 
 nourable idea, has broken through the barrier 
 which religion and education had raised to re- 
 pel crime. 
 
 Rawlinson had about this time become con- 
 siderably embarrassed in his finances : he had 
 lived far too fast ; and although he had every 
 chance of making money, owing to his rival
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 48 
 
 attorney being a remarkably litigious character, 
 yet had vanity overcome prudence ; and Raw- 
 linson, a villain at heart, had gradually worked 
 his way into the society of Ronald, with the 
 intention of awakening his worst passions, of 
 placing before him the sad event which must 
 take place immediately the will should be dis- 
 puted, and finally of leading Ronald on to 
 think upon desperate means, whereby he might 
 avoid this terrible end. 
 
 Words were at first industriously used to 
 make Ronald aware that the secret would be 
 safe; but that it was in Rawlinson's power, 
 nay it was his duty, as the confidential adviser 
 of the family, to put the rightful owner in pos- 
 session. Still there were means of evading the 
 law. In such artful manner, and with such 
 palpable hints, he intimated that he was open 
 to conversation upon the subject. Ronald, 
 having determined to avail himself of any 
 chance, proposed to the attorney a sum of 
 money to bribe him into silence. The over- 
 ture was rejected with scorn, merely, in truth, 
 because the sum offered by no means came up,
 
 44 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 in the attorney's opinion, to the price he deem- 
 ed it worth. 
 
 "Consider," said RawUnson, '^the risk of 
 being even a party to this transaction — inevita- 
 ble ruin if suspected, transportation for life if 
 discovered. The man," he continued, " who 
 is to face either of these evils, must have suffi- 
 cient money to enable him to decamp before 
 he is routed, to retreat before he is made a 
 prisoner ; — and four thousand pounds ! — it 
 would be mere beggary abroad — mere vegeta- 
 tion. Besides, my conscience tells me that even 
 entertaining the subject itself is highly discre- 
 ditable. It must not be ; Albert must inherit 
 all, and you must be dependant upon his 
 bounty." 
 
 The pride of Ronald could not brook this. 
 He at once descended to the meanness of sup- 
 plication ; — the sura oflFered was doubled, tre- 
 bled, and at last quadrupled. This last seemed 
 to be the mark which Rawlinson required to 
 be reached ; for he moderated the anger which 
 he had at first evinced at being insulted even 
 at the proposition of a bribe, to forego his ho-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 45 
 
 nest intentions. He commiserated the situa- 
 tion of Ronald^ used kind words^ and apolo- 
 gised for him in regard to his feelings having 
 bettered his intentions; and finally left the 
 room^ with an impression upon Ronald's mind 
 that his obdurate honesty might, by gentle 
 touches of all-subduing gold, be worn through, 
 as the hardest stone yields to a succession of 
 drops. 
 
 The ice was broken ; honesty had fled, and 
 villainy was triumphant. The following day 
 was eagerly expected by both. The health of 
 the father was hourly becoming more preca- 
 rious ; and it was, therefore, requisite that the 
 plan should be arranged before his death. No 
 alteration could be made in the will; for old 
 Sir Ronald had fallen into the sear and yellow 
 leaf of life, and his brain, like an autumnal 
 tint, had been stripped of its manly verdure, 
 and was blighted by the frosts of age. It is 
 true, he occasionally rallied into remembrance, 
 as his last speech evinced ; and in that speech 
 there seemed to be a latent hope that if Ronald 
 paid his brother the large sum left him, Albert
 
 46 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 would have been contented and happy in his 
 lot. 
 
 The following morning arrived, and earlier 
 than usual Rawlinson called. The door of the 
 library (for this apartment had been for some 
 time the undisturbed retreat of Ronald) was 
 closed and locked ; — a false will produced — and 
 Ronald, an adept at imitation, forged the name 
 of his father, — so like, indeed, that RawHnson 
 uttered an involuntary exclamation of praise. 
 The names of the witnesses were likewise 
 forged ; and the whole deed so closely resem- 
 bled the other, except in contents, that the 
 very men who had attested the real one of the 
 old man, might have, to the best of their 
 knowledge and belief, sworn to the false, as the 
 one they had attested. 
 
 This having been arranged, Ronald looked 
 up, and remarked how pale and wan Rawlinson 
 appeared. 
 
 " It is my first fault,^^ said the villain ; " and 
 we all tremble as we overstep the Rubicon of 
 crime. When once fairly placed upon the in- 
 clined plane, we shall slide along merrily ; and
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 4? 
 
 conscience^ the warder of the heart, will cease 
 to be \ngilant at its post. How do you feel ?" 
 
 " Like a poor wretch, Rawlinson/' replied 
 Ronald, " who having in the cold and dreary- 
 winter, trodden down the snow with his bare 
 feet, sees before him a cheerful fire to warm 
 and comfort him, a bed to lie upon, and food 
 and victuals. Such as must be the sensations 
 of that poor wretch, who had starvation in the 
 foreground, and perhaps a gallows in perspec- 
 tive, are mine at this moment. I care not for 
 the crime ; for I would rather die a rich thief 
 than an honest pauper. Rawlinson, you can- 
 not deceive me, any more than I can deceive 
 myself. You feel a little remorse — a slight 
 increased pulsation of the heart ; but you feel 
 a vast deal of pleasure ; and when my father is 
 dead, you will repent in a new carriage, and 
 think of religion on a high trotting horse. But 
 to business — my father's Will.'' 
 
 " It is here." 
 
 " Then place it there — I mil bury it deeply 
 in the flames,^' continued Ronald, '^ so that no 
 prying eyes, no eager inquisitive varlet, shall
 
 48 THE SPITFIREl. 
 
 grope out a particle to treasure up as evidence. 
 —Who is there ?'' 
 
 " It is me/^ said the poor old sick childish 
 father. " Let me in ; I am cold, and want 
 some breakfast.'^ 
 
 Rawlinson shuffled up the papers and parch- 
 ments, and Ronald, struck by this extraordi- 
 nary interruption, opened the door, and led his 
 father in. 
 
 " Cold, very cold," began the old man ; 
 " but business must be done, and I want to 
 count my money. Who is this ?'^ he con- 
 tinued, as he observed Rawlinson ; " he looks 
 like a thief come to rob me. But Fll give it to 
 thee, poor Ronald, I'll give you a hint. The 
 man who leaves his affairs in the hands of an- 
 other, is hke a person deprived of both arms 
 and eyes. But why does the nurse keep away ? 
 I've told her to give twenty pounds for my 
 breakfast ; and although I am rolling in riches, 
 I can't get dry toast with my gruel." 
 
 At this moment, when the poor old man had 
 just approached the fire, and had spoken this 
 mixture of folly and of wisdom, the nurse came
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 49 
 
 running in. To Ronald's quick rebuke, she 
 said, that she had left his father, thinking him 
 asleep, to get something for herself, and that 
 she supposed he had exercised the cunning of 
 people in his situation, and had only waited 
 her departure, to avail himself of the opportu- 
 nity to walk about. '^ He must be cold," she 
 continued, ^^ for he is hke a bare-footed beggar 
 wandering in the snow." 
 
 Ronald started when he heard the words 
 which he himself had expressed, and looked 
 warily at Rawli.nson. He was busy turning 
 over the books, apparently indifferent to the 
 conversation, the old man was removed, and 
 the door again fastened. 
 
 " I cannot destroy the will now,'' said Ro- 
 nald, " even I who planned the deed, am afraid 
 to face it; he came upon us even in idiotcy like 
 a ministering angel, which some have beheved 
 to watch over our lives, and guard us from temp- 
 tation ; — his very eye rebuked my intention ; 
 and," added Ronald with a peculiar curl of the 
 upper lip, " he mistook you for a thief.'' 
 
 "What! frightened at a shadow. Sir?— Is 
 
 VOL. I, D
 
 50 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 your deep reading, your fine philosophy to be 
 shaken by a common place affair ? A sick man, 
 anxious to avoid a bed in which he has been 
 detained for a fortnight, finds himself at Hberty, 
 and walks to the room he mostly inhabited in 
 health — is there any thing supernatural in 
 that? — any nonsense of ministering angel to 
 whisper into one's ear to avoid a crime ? If that 
 had been the case, why did he not interpose his 
 authority, this ghostly authority, to stop your 
 hand when you traced this forgery ? Do not 
 think of it ; it is like a school boy who buys a 
 wooden figure, and implores it to bring him 
 good luck, and if he gets flogged for his idleness, 
 he believes it the kind work of his Tommy .'^ 
 
 " Let me go and see him in his bed, Raw- 
 linson ; perhaps I may master this weakness, 
 but as I live, I shake with fear, as much as if 
 the officer of justice had arrested me, and the 
 hangman had opened his sliding noose to receive 
 this neck. — Wait here ; I will return in a mo- 
 ment ; let me see him in his bed, watched so 
 that he may not again break upon our busi- 
 ness," and with a hurried step he departed.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 51 
 
 No sooner was he gone, than Rawlinson 
 carefully concealed the papers in his pocket, and 
 returned to his house. Rawlinson's pale ap- 
 pearance was owing to his having spent the 
 whole night in preparing the document which 
 he could not entrust to his clerk, who had 
 drawn up the original. His plan was well laid ; 
 he had now his victim secured, and retired to 
 his home, where he carefully concealed the 
 deed, to which Ronald had affixed his father's 
 signature ; having this safe, he avoided Raven 
 Castle, and actually left his house for a week, 
 with his daughter. 
 
 During this interval, he tutored Margaret 
 to follow his wishes. Margaret was then but 
 seventeen. She was not a beauty ; but she was 
 fair, and exquisitely formed. She had appeared 
 to have entertained an attachment for Albert — 
 nay they had already exchanged vows, and 
 declarations of affection ; but in youth, although 
 the fire of love may burn fiercely, it may soon 
 be quenched. Rawhnson knew his daughter 
 to inherit his own feelings. She had read of 
 great and rich men marrying beneath them, — 
 
 D 2
 
 52 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 some their cooks, and many, play actors ; and 
 although she did love, as much as such a girl 
 could love, Albert, yet she was never one who 
 would have dashed herself over the Raven Cliff 
 to be carried away in the whirlpool below. 
 Every hint which a careful father could instil 
 into her mind, as to the benefits to be derived 
 from riches, and the misery of poverty, Rawlin- 
 soii had bestowed on his daughter ; and he had 
 brought her now exactly to his wishes, namely a 
 cool, calculating, cunning girl, who would sacri- 
 fice any poor lover, to make a more advanta- 
 geous match. 
 
 " Well, Margaret, my dear,^^ began her father, 
 " I wonder what your poor miserable lover will 
 do in your absence ; he will write your name, I 
 suppose, upon a tree, and sit under its shade, to 
 look at all that is left of you ! Tell me, girl, do 
 do you love him ?'' 
 
 '• Yes,'^ replied Margaret, " I suppose I 
 
 love him, and it would be a great match for 
 me/' 
 
 " Not so, my child," replied Rawlinson. 
 
 " By the bye, I have often thought of warning
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 53 
 
 you against this great match, as you call it ; but I 
 could not be so indiscreet as to mention the 
 terms of old Sir Ronald^s will,— that would be 
 a breach of trust , but I may venture to hint 
 that, independent of the manly air, the upright 
 honest bearing of the elder brother, he will be 
 far richer, that is, he will inherit all the estates, 
 monies, &c, and would be a match that half 
 the nobility of England might covet." 
 
 " And being so rich, so upright, &c. papa, as 
 you say, would not of course condescend 
 to marry any one beneath him in rank." 
 
 ^' I scarcely think you are right there, Mar- 
 garet, for it so happens that I know he is 
 attached to you." 
 
 " To me ! it is impossible. I have never seen 
 him more than twice in my life, and then 
 he turned from me as if I had the leprosy." 
 
 " And not a bad proof of love either ; there 
 are many men who become so much in love, 
 that they dare not even look upon the face of 
 her they most admire ; nay some, and one 1 
 know, as brave, and as gallant a man, as ever 
 faced his country's enemies, who, when he
 
 54 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 made a proposition of marriage turned his back 
 upon the lady/' 
 
 " I'm sure/' rephed Margaret, " I should 
 have turned my back upon him. But is this 
 true that Albert, when his father dies, will 
 not share equally with his elder brother?" 
 
 " Child/^ replied Rawhnson, "it is never 
 done ; the elder son inherits all, and the younger 
 ones are protected by him ; it is one of the 
 wisest laws, that of inheritance by primoge- 
 niture, which was ever framed; it keeps the 
 name and the greatness of the family together ; 
 whereas a sub-division would impoverish all. 
 I cannot help thinking but that Ronald loves 
 you. Albert is sent to a friend in the High- 
 lands, as you know, little Mischief 1 he went 
 yesterday. The father may still live years ; 
 and until his death, his will must be unknown; 
 however, I shall advise, should he not recover, 
 that Ronald becomes the manager of the pro- 
 perty, or that 7, as a matter of business, should 
 arrange the affairs. Now, Margaret, could you 
 forget Albert and marry Ronald, if he should 
 hereafter — I speak merely of a possibility — be
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 55 
 
 induced to make you a declaration of affecr 
 tion ?" 
 
 " I must say that I should like," replied the 
 girl, " to be the lady of Raven Castle : and 
 Lady de Lancy would not sound amiss to my 
 ears." 
 
 " You do not love him, Margaret r^' said the 
 attorney, with a smile. 
 
 "Not just yet," she rephed ; "but I am a 
 good daughter, and I can do as I am bid.'^ 
 
 It was a week before Rawlinson returned. 
 Old Sir Ronald lingered on for more than six 
 months, when on the 20th of December he 
 died. 
 
 Two years had nearly elapsed from the time 
 of old Sir Ronald's death, until the evening 
 before-mentioned, when Ronald disturbed the 
 conversation between Albert and Herbert. It 
 will be seen, that Rawlinson, directly after the 
 forgery, had planned the marriage of his 
 daughter with the future baronet, and that 
 she, although continuing her clandestine vi- 
 sits to Albert, was, from her careless educa-
 
 56 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 tion, secretly not without hope that she 
 might succeed in uniting herself with Sir 
 Ronald. 
 
 The day old Sir Ronald died, a counterfeit 
 copy of his will, with numerous papers, letters, 
 records, &c., were destroyed by his eldest 
 son and Rawlinson; and old Herbert's story 
 of the fire was in strict accordance with truth. 
 From that hour Ronald de Lancy had shunned 
 mankind ; he had endeavoured, in soHtude, to 
 shield himself from the tyranny of his own 
 heart; he could not dive into society and 
 dissipation, for his whole nature was against 
 it. He who before was bold and proud, now 
 slunk about his grounds, ashamed to meet his 
 tenantry; anxious to avoid even his brother, 
 he lived like a respited criminal, uncertain 
 when the axe might fall; and although he 
 turned his thoughts to religion, yet was his 
 reading such as, if possible, to discredit it. 
 Every page which could be twisted or distorted 
 so as to render a conviction of atheism pro- 
 bable, he seized it, treasured it, and would
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 5? 
 
 frequently say to himself: " If there is no 
 hereafter, then am I happy !" 
 
 Amongst the people who sometimes gained 
 an unwelcome admittance, was the Rev. James 
 Molesworth : he had been old Sir Ronald de 
 Lancy's youngest and oldest friend, and now 
 clung with renewed affection to the unworthy 
 representative of Raven Castle. He had ob- 
 served the sudden change, this apparent re- 
 ligious melancholy which had crept over his old 
 friend's son. Clergymen are privileged people, 
 they approach armed with the words, " Peace 
 be to this house, and all herein;" they heal 
 the wounds of the bruised heart, and they give 
 consolation where trouble and anxieties pre- 
 vail. 
 
 The morning after Sir Ronald's conversa- 
 tion with Rawhnson relative to the marriage 
 of his daughter, Mr. Molesworth called. He 
 found Sir Ronald in his library, the Bible open, 
 references at hand, and the reader pale w^ith 
 apparent study. 
 
 After the first salutation, Mr. Molesworth 
 began, by observing : — " That there was a 
 
 D 3
 
 58 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 time for all things, and that Sir Ronald in- 
 jured his constitution, and impaired his health 
 by his over-zealous search into the holy 
 writings. Remember, my young friend,'^ he 
 said, " we are not to indulge in any occu- 
 pation, however pleasurable, that ruins our 
 health ; and when so indulged, even a religious 
 work becomes dissipation ; for our health is 
 given us, as a gift which we are bound to 
 preserve ; and the mind never can be so active 
 when the body is enfeebled.'^ 
 
 '^ Thank you kindly, Sir," said Sir Ronald, 
 in his usual steady manner ; " I may truly say, 
 ^ The labour we delight in physics pain.' I 
 have not recovered, as yet, all the recollection 
 of former happiness ; and I feel as a weed 
 thrown upon the wide Atlantic, to float with the 
 impulse of the current." 
 
 " Pardon me. Sir Ronald, but I think you 
 have not stated your case fairly ; you do not 
 go with the current, but you oppose it. The 
 young baronet should not confine himself 
 within his walls, hoarding his riches 3 your en- 
 joyments of hfe would tend much to alleviate
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 59 
 
 the miseries of hundreds ; and again, although 
 a clergyman, I am bound to tell you that the 
 constant perseverance in such seclusion as yours 
 would become criminal. The poor around you 
 want your assistance, and if fortune has been 
 propitious to you, your hand should be ex- 
 tended towards others." 
 
 ^' Whatever you demand for the poor, Mr. 
 Molesworth, I am ready to advance; name 
 but the sum, and this instant it is yours." 
 
 ^^ Charity, Sir Ronald, does not always 
 consist in sending money ; it consists in 
 visiting the fatherless and the widows in 
 affliction; and a boon from the hand of the 
 man who owns the territory, is three times as 
 consolitary, as when, as a matter of conve- 
 nience, the money is sent through another. 
 Do you imagine that the fakir who sits all day 
 long until his nails grow through his hands, 
 although he gives all he gets to the poor, is 
 an acceptable person, in comparison with him 
 who goes through the several duties of life, 
 who sees the enjoyments of others, and who 
 contributes to them by his presence ? You 
 should marry, Sir Ronald."
 
 60 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " Marry !'^ responded Sir Ronald, in a deep 
 sepulchral voice. " Before long, Mr. Moles- 
 worth, I shall require your services on that 
 account." 
 
 '^ Indeed !*' said Mr. Molesworth, " that 
 does rejoice me. Raven Castle will no longer 
 be an inclosure ; as in the feudal times, the 
 old hall will resound with merriment; and I, 
 being proud of the service committed to my 
 charge, shall, when that ceremony is over, 
 be as blythe and as gay as the youngest 1 If 
 I do not trespass much upon my intimacy, may 
 I ask the name of her who is so shortly to 
 come amongst us ?'* 
 
 " Margaret Rawlinson.'' 
 
 " What do I hear. Sir Ronald ? Margaret 
 Rawlinson ! — the daughter of your attorney ! — 
 It is well your father sleeps under a heavy 
 stone, or his old form might haunt the house, 
 which thus can lower itself." 
 
 " Tell me. Sir,'* said Sir Rowland, " have 
 the dead ever left their tombs to visit those on 
 earth ? or is it your opinion, that affection re- 
 tains its hold, and acts as a ministering angel ?"
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 61 
 
 " It is a subject which I fain would evade, 
 for no one can positively answer the question. 
 — All nations have records of the dead having 
 revisited the earth; — but it is a record, at 
 which the philosopher laughs at in day-hght, 
 and dreads in darkness. — I have a favour to ask 
 you. Fix upon any other member of our 
 church to unite you ; I cannot. Sir Ronald, — I 
 will not be the man." 
 " Your reason. Sir ?'^ 
 
 " Your father would never have sanctioned 
 such an alliance. He was proud of his rank, 
 and of his partner's rank ; and well I remember 
 his scrupulous attention to some whim of hers, 
 when he remarried her long after your birth.'' 
 " Ah 1" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, the registry is with me, 
 for I performed the service. She, under her 
 maiden name, went through the ceremony, 
 dressed as a bride, — three persons only were 
 present — myself, my clerk, and old Rawlinson; 
 although, by some accident, old Herbert and 
 others heard of the event. Little did old Raw- 
 linson think, that a Sir Ronald de Lancy was
 
 62 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 to wed his grand-daughter ; and luckily I only 
 survive to witness the degradation 1 — Good bye^ 
 Sir Ronald ! I was in hopes I could have with- 
 drawn you from your seclusion ; but, old fool 
 that I was ! I forgot that, even in seclusion, 
 love is more dangerous than in the giddy whirl- 
 pool of pleasure." 
 
 At this moment Albert entered the room. 
 He announced the arrival of Rawlinson, who 
 was as usual excessively anxious to see Sir Ro- 
 nald. 
 
 " He has brought the settlements for signa- 
 ture, I suppose. Sir Ronald,'^ said Molesworth, 
 *^ I will not witness them, and luckily Albert 
 is under age. Good bye, good bye, Albert, — 
 when your brother weds Margaret Rawlinson I 
 must withdraw. — Heavens, how pale you look !'^ 
 
 ^^ It is nothing," interrupted Sir Ronald, 
 " good morning Sir ! — ^and with all the stateliness 
 of manner for which he was noted, he bowed 
 the reverend gentleman out of the room, and 
 before he could pave the way for that which he 
 knew would give his brother the keenest pain, 
 the attorney made his appearance.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 63 
 
 " I am come to sign and to seal,'* said Raw- 
 linson. 
 
 " Leave me," said Sir Ronald, "' I ^-ill ex- 
 plain to you the nature of Mr. Molesworth's 
 remarks another time." 
 
 " I obey," replied Albert ; " but I have ano- 
 ther message to deliver — Herbert is no where 
 to be found — and some of the servants have 
 asked leave to search for their old friend." 
 " Let them search," was Sir Ronald's reply. 
 " My mind," began Sir Ronald as his bro- 
 ther left the room, ^" is fixed— I am prepared 
 to wed your daughter — where is she ?" 
 
 ** Not far — your courtship need not be long — 
 I have prepared her ; ask her hand — ^it is your's; 
 return afterwards with me to my house — and 
 then the settlements can be arranged." 
 
 " You are quick, Rawlinson, in your depart- 
 ment; how many a poor lover sighs over the 
 long days the law requires to bind him to all he 
 holds dear ; whilst to me — the actual deeds are 
 prepared in one short night, even before I have 
 made proposals to the woman who is to be — 
 not mv love — but mv wife !'"
 
 64 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " The world and you are differently placed — 
 come, it must be done this day — we can walk — 
 the long shrubbery will be the fittest place — 
 poor old Herbert, Sir Ronald, will not overhear 
 us — he sleeps quietly enough — and the search 
 on the part of the court will be unavailing I" 
 
 From the terrace walk which skirted the 
 flower garden of Raven Castle there ran a long 
 winding shrubbery. The hand which planted 
 this thick retreat had wound the path in such 
 constant windings, that the eye could never 
 command a view of more than fifty feet. In 
 the little recesses occasionally formed by sharper 
 turnings there were rustic seats, in summer 
 sheltered from the sun, in winter protected 
 from the breeze. There the lilac had been 
 planted so as to overhang the seat, as if Flora 
 would delight in it as a throne surrounded by 
 the thick blossoms of this elegant tree and in- 
 haling its beautiful perfume ; the next was over- 
 hung by liburnam, and Danae might fancy her- 
 self under a shower of gold; in another the 
 thickly flowering honeysuckle arched itself 
 gracefully over the seat ; whilst the next, which
 
 THE SriTFIRE. 65 
 
 Margaret Rawlinson reposed upon, was in 
 reality, ' Love amongst the roses.' Further on 
 was another — the jessamine wound gracefully 
 around it ; the small white blossom looking like 
 stars amid the bosom of the night. And thus 
 each seat was centred in a bower — each bower 
 being composed of only one kind of flower. 
 The walk terminated with a gate ; and the 
 kindness of old Sir Ronald had confided a key 
 to the family of the Rawlinson's, who had long 
 been privileged to walk therein. 
 
 In this walk had the cold hearted Margaret 
 often met Albert. Here had she phghted her 
 truth to him ; and on the very seat where she 
 now sat had the flower of Venus often witnessed 
 those sweet kisses which lovers imprint, and 
 which, as a poet has described them, is a kiss 
 of youth, and beauty, and love, all concen- 
 trated into one focus ! — a hypocrite in her heart, 
 she disguised her real feehngs ! and while she 
 amused herself in fanning the flame which 
 burnt brightly in young Albert's heart, her own 
 beat with higher expectation ; the hint which her 
 father had given her weeks before, of the possi-
 
 66 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 bility of becoming Lady de Lancy ; the envy, 
 the jealousy which such an union would infalli- 
 bly produce in the Molesworth family— a family 
 hated by the dishonest attorney, because their 
 characters were so opposite — had not been lost 
 upon Margaret. It is true, she did not love 
 Sir Ronald ; his tall gaunt figure — his natural 
 austerity of manner — his cold measured mode 
 of address, was not such as would win young 
 hearts ; and to this day, when past nineteen years 
 of age, Sir Ronald had never deigned to enter 
 into any conversation with her, beyond a few 
 seconds in duration. 
 
 In the bower, which by Albert had been 
 termed Venuses retreat, for he saw grace in all 
 her steps and heaven in her eye, sat Margaret 
 Rawlinson, awaiting Sir Ronald. She had been 
 told by her father that an overture of marriage 
 had been made by the baronet to him, for her. 
 He pointed out in terms likely to captivate a 
 heart like his daughter, all the advantages deriv- 
 able from such an union. 
 
 Albert was a pauper — he must be discarded. 
 Sir Ronald had wealth and a title, was the larg-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. &J 
 
 est possessor of property in that part of Eng- 
 land. It was prudent to sacrifice a little love 
 to a vast accession of wealth and power. She 
 did not hesitate ; she agreed at once to marry 
 him j and she was now placed in this bower to 
 receive his addresses. Her heart palpitated a 
 little — not with love — but with hope ! 
 
 Rawhnson had walked with Sir Ronald to the 
 beginning of the shrubbery, and there left him, 
 in order to find Albert, and prepare him for the 
 event — if possible to poison his mind more 
 strongly against his brother ; and, in despair, to 
 leave him to meditate either a flight, or a per- 
 sonal rencontre — which would force Sir Ronald 
 to find some employment for his brother else- 
 where. 
 
 He found Albert instantly, and after a very 
 few preliminary remarks came at once to the 
 point, and hinted the connexion with the family 
 about to take place, — " They are now in the 
 shrubbery," he said, — •" but I must be home, for 
 my time is much occupied." 
 
 Albert for a moment stood like a statue ; a 
 sudden thought seemed to overpower him j and
 
 68 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 he rushed into the thicket as if to shelter himself 
 from the world. 
 
 As Margaret sat counting the minutes when 
 her vanity should be gratified, her hope reaUz- 
 ed, she heard the slow steps of Sir Ronald 
 advancing; his was not the light footfall of 
 impatient love ; but he lingered at every step, 
 and was anxious to prolong the time before his 
 tongue should bind him to marriage. He 
 neither loved nor hated the object ; she was 
 perfectly indifferent to him. But his connec- 
 tion with Rawhnson required this security for 
 himself; and well he argued that this marriage, 
 which was a matter of necessity — might, by 
 good management, become one of comparative 
 happiness. " There is no necessity,'' thought he, 
 " of attachment to ensure contentment ; love is 
 much stronger sometimes after marriage than 
 before.^' Whilst pondering on the emergency 
 of the case, he turned the corner, and beheld 
 his future wife reclining in the bower. She 
 had evidently taken considerable care to show 
 her figure to its greatest advantage, and fasti- 
 dious indeed must the man have been who
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 69 
 
 could have seen that woman^ and not acknow- 
 ledged her beauty and her grace. 
 
 Margaret darted up as if unprepared for 
 such interruption ; and after bowing in a dis- 
 tant and reserved manner, seemed anxious to 
 avoid Sir Ronald, and not intrude upon his 
 privacy. He, however, was not deceived by this 
 manoeuvre. Rawhnson had told him where to 
 find his daughter, and he had had sufficient ex- 
 perience of his future father-in-law to know, 
 that she had been ably tutored, expected the 
 offer, and was ready to accept him. 
 
 With more than usual activity of manner. 
 Sir Ronald sprang forward, and took her hand, 
 which she, with admirable surprise, attempted, 
 yet did not accomplish, — to withdraw. Here was 
 no hesitation in Sir Ronald's manner, for there 
 was no love to agitate him ; he spoke to her 
 with the ease and familiarity of an old acquaint- 
 ance ; and leading her back to the seat she had 
 forsaken, he paid her but an honest compliment 
 when he remarked that the bower received new 
 beauties from the graceful form which adorned 
 it.
 
 70 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 So well managed was the interview by Sir 
 Ronald, that even Margaret was deceived into 
 liking him. He spoke with vivacity and ele- 
 gance. He inquired into her occupations and 
 amusements ; rallied her on her nocturnal ram- 
 bles with her brother ; and so completely won 
 her wavering heart, that they might have mis- 
 taken themselves for lovers. 
 
 Still Sir Ronald felt the indelicacy of his 
 situation, to offer his hand after a quarter of an 
 hour's conversation, seemed precipitate; and he 
 was more than once inclined to withdraw with- 
 out effecting his purpose. The idea of his per- 
 sonal security in this marriage, however, pre- 
 vailed over his prudence, and he now approached 
 the subject by endeavouring to find out if 
 Margaret, in reality, was attached to his bro- 
 ther. 
 
 " You meet him frequently,^' he remarked, 
 " Miss Rawlinson, and he poor fellow wears but 
 a sad countenance when occupied elsewhere.^' 
 
 ^* Poor boy," — remarked the artful girl, " it 
 would be too ridiculous. Sir Ronald, to fall in 
 love with one so young, — as a companion he is
 
 THE SPITFIRE. Jl 
 
 cheerful — and perhaps I may have been fortu- 
 nate enough to amuse him ; but as to love — 
 that is absurd !" 
 
 " He is too young, Miss Rawlinson — altogether 
 too young, to form any alUance. Besides his 
 fretful temper, his want of any occupation in life, 
 and more than all, is want of fortune, his much 
 against any connexion, such as marriage/' 
 
 Margaret smiled at the last word, and added, 
 " That such an idea as uniting herself with the 
 proud' family of Sir Ronald de Lancy, never 
 had entered her imagination/' 
 
 " And yet," interrupted Sir Ronald, "one so 
 beautiful, so graceful as Margaret Rawlinson 
 might aspire to any hand. I should have 
 thought our family honoured by such an acqui- 
 sition ; and if Margaret Rawlinson could bestow 
 herself upon such an unworthy object as myself, 
 this hand is hers !" 
 
 Margaret remained silent. Sir Ronald became 
 gradually warmer in his supj^lications. The 
 bashful maiden still observed a guarded silence ; 
 until the question was put in plainer language, 
 and at last a timid consent was expressed. Sir
 
 72 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 Ronald now was about to take what is seldom 
 withheld from accepted lovers ; he drew the ap- 
 parently unwilling girl to his arms, and in the 
 act of imprinting a warm kiss — for Sir Ronald's 
 blood had really warmed — he was thrust rudely 
 back by his brother, who stamping on his 
 prostrate rival, vented his curses and his kicks in 
 concert. 
 
 " It is done," he said as he bestowed his last 
 malediction, "may heaven hear my curses ! — you 
 have deprived me of the girl I loved ; you have, I 
 am certain, swindled me of my just inheritance 
 — you have bhghted my youth — crushed my af- 
 fection — made me a pauper — and, worse than 
 all, an enemy ! days and nights may roll over 
 your head — your family may prosper — you may 
 revel in your riches ; but, by that God who hears 
 me ! no time shall ever reconcile me to the 
 basest of brothers, no soft words shall win me 
 back to you — but I will follow your path, and 
 cross it where I can; and when most in se- 
 curity, you shall feel the scorpion sting which 
 blighted hope alone can inflict! — Good bye, 
 Margaret ! but not for ever ! you, poor, weak
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 73 
 
 thing! won by ambition — deceived by deceit 
 — look at your husband — who is to be — on the 
 ground ! his brother's foot upon his neck ! — and 
 thus I dismiss you both V 
 
 As he finished these quickly uttered words, 
 he caught up his brother's purse, which hung 
 from his waistcoat pocket, and rushing from 
 both the ungrateful girl and still more unge- 
 nerous brother, he hastened to his apart- 
 ment, and making the most portable package 
 he could contrive, disappeared from Raven 
 Castle. 
 
 No sooner had he left his brother, than 
 Rawlinson arrived. He had seen it all, — he 
 had witnessed the rude assault and the theft. — 
 He had rightly calculated upon the hasty 
 revenge of Albert 3 his joy was unbounded, 
 he rubbed his hands in ecstacy ; and lifting 
 the prostrate Sir Ronald, he took his daughter's 
 hand, and walked towards the castle. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 74 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 No sooner had Sir Ronald recovered from 
 the assault, than Rawhnson poured the tide of 
 ad\'ice as to future conduct. 
 
 "We have him now, safe, de Lancy," he 
 said; "his blood is too good to brook the 
 taunts and revihngs which are attached to one 
 who has committed a theft. Margaret saw it, 
 and she could witness against him. I will 
 meet him now, and irritate him to depart. In 
 the meantime," he continued, as he whispered 
 in Sir Ronald's ear, " you can avail yourself of 
 the moment to arrange your future marriage. 
 Remember, it must be soon." 
 
 Rawlinson found his intentions useless.
 
 THE SPITTIRE. 75 
 
 Albert had taken flight. The disorder in 
 which his room was left indicated the sudden- 
 ness of his departure ; and from a paper found 
 on the table, which contained only these words 
 — " Follow not the steps of a desperate man," 
 — it was imagined that he would not return to 
 interrupt the ceremony of his brother's mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Sir Ronald was allowed but a few days to 
 make his arrangements. Rawlinson undertook 
 the settlements himself, being one of the trus- 
 tees. A clause in these deeds enabled Marga- 
 ret to will away a certain part, even from the 
 children which might be bom ; but this clause 
 had been omitted during the time Rawlinson 
 read over the deed pre^'ious to his signature. 
 The poor dupe of this treacherous ally was de- 
 sired to make preparations on a grand scale. 
 It did not suit the intentions of Rawlinson for 
 his daughter to be smuggled into Raven Castle. 
 The whole county must witness the ceremony ; 
 and there in the full face of all, should the cere- 
 mony be performed. 
 
 As the time grew shorter, Sir Ronald a|> 
 
 e2
 
 ?6 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 peared to grow more animated ; the natural 
 austerity of his character seemed to give way 
 before a Hghtness of heart which had long been 
 a stranger to him. The fact was^ that Sir Ro- 
 nald considered himself secure ; and as not a 
 word had been received concerning Albert, he 
 concluded that, relieved of him for the present, 
 Herbert for the future, Rawlinson satisfied, his 
 daughter united, that henceforth the only in- 
 terruption to his happiness might be the watch- 
 ful interference of his father-in-law. 
 
 Many and many were the people in\dted to 
 the nuptials ; and although many accepted the 
 invitation, yet one family steadily refused — it 
 was that of Mr. MoJesworth. This worthy 
 labourer in the vineyard of Christianity would 
 not countenance a union which was in every 
 way repugnant to his feelings of respect for 
 the de Lancy family. Rawlinson had long 
 been considered an unworthy member of 
 society : and more than once he had been 
 strongly suspected of dishonest deahngs in 
 parish matters by the worthy rector. Between 
 them some words of a disagreeable tendency
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 77 
 
 had passed; and although Mr. Molesworth, 
 with the urbanity of manner which always 
 distinguished him^ saluted the attorney — for he 
 quarrelled with no man — yet that salute was 
 the only interchange of civilities between 
 them. 
 
 The living Mr. Molesworth held was the 
 gift of old Sir Ronald ; and so undisguisedly 
 did he mention his disgust at the union, that 
 he offered to relinquish his flock, his house, 
 his peaceful abode, and retire upon the small 
 fortune he had saved for his children, rather 
 tlian be doomed to see Margaret Rawhnson 
 united to a de Lancy. 
 
 His only son was about the age of Albert ; 
 and until love weaned him from his friendship, 
 Albert had been his constant companion. His 
 youngest daughter, a girl of only seven years 
 of age, had been christened, to meet the fancy 
 of the old baronet, by the name of Ronalda ; 
 in fact, the families had been associated for years. 
 But that association was at once destroyed 
 when Margaret Rawlinson was declared to be 
 the future bride of de Lancy; and Albert
 
 78 THE spnriRE. 
 
 had fled from Raven Castle with the taint of 
 theft upon his hands. 
 
 In spite of all objections — for objections 
 only made Sir Ronald more determined, the 
 day was fixed for the 23rd of December (17S7). 
 The ceremony was to be followed by the festi- 
 vities of Christmas ; and old Herbert, had he 
 been there, might have believed that the nup- 
 tials of the young baronet would recall the 
 good old days of revelry at that season, when 
 the old year shakes hands with the new, and 
 ungrateful man rings the same peal for the 
 departed friend of 365 days, that he welcomes 
 a new and uncertain period of his future exist- 
 ence, which may be fraught with all the ills 
 and evils to which we are subject in this life. 
 It is like the death of a king, when all his 
 subjects go into compulsory mourning; and 
 whilst the hearse and the nodding plumes, the 
 pageantry, the useless folly of bedizening a 
 coffin in which moulders and rots a poor piece 
 of departed royalty, the sycophant, and all who 
 crowd a court are, with smiles on their faces, 
 and insincerity on their lips, lisping out, — " the
 
 THE SPITFIRE, 79 
 
 king is dead," — " long live the king 1" — so do 
 we ring out the old year with joy, and ring in 
 the new one with the same merry peal. 
 
 All of the sombre melancholy which distin- 
 guished Raven Castle was removed ; — new 
 furniture was supplied where the old had faded 
 — a gorgeous display of plate, which had 
 passed from father to son, and which yet 
 weighed heavily in the scale of grandeur ; new 
 liveries were prepared, new equipages bought ; 
 and before the day fixed for the nuptials, the 
 arms of the de Lancys, and those of the 
 attorney, Rawlinson, were emblazoned on the 
 panels of the carriage. 
 
 Rawlinson was not an inactive spectator of 
 these preparations ; he was now about to work 
 out his masterpiece of plot. With a candour 
 which quite astonished Sir Ronald, he asked 
 him to whom he should confide the original 
 wiU? 
 
 " Name any one," he said ; '^ I will place it 
 in his hands ; and the hour after your marriage 
 it shall be delivered to you." 
 
 " This confidence re-assures me, Rawlinson.
 
 80 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 Our mutual safety will be secured by the mar- 
 riage ; and the destruction of the proof against 
 me will render me more happy." 
 
 " It is your evident increase of affection for 
 my child, which makes me offer tlie deed with- 
 out your request/' replied Rawlinson ; " and 
 did not common prudence warn me of the 
 necessity of being careful, I would destroy it 
 now." 
 
 " What ! do you fear my wavering in regard 
 to my marriage ? the day is fixed — only two 
 days from this ; all preparations are made — 
 the company invited." 
 
 " Aye, but the ring is not on — the license is 
 not bought — Margaret Rawlinson is not as yet 
 Margaret de Lancy. We are told that all 
 things are uncertain ; the mind of man ever 
 wavers, Sir Ronald, and the prudent man 
 never believes a deed complete until the signa- 
 ture and the seal are affixed. But my happi- 
 ness in seeing my aim nearly completed almost 
 has blinded me to a fact which has reached me 
 — Herbert is alive !" 
 
 " Alive !" ejaculated Sir Ronald, " what an-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 81 
 
 gel could have borne him up ? There never 
 yet was cattle or dog that toppled over the 
 Raven cliff, and lived ! And can an old infirm 
 man, a man verging on a natural death, whose 
 miserable limbs and joints could barely support 
 the frame which tottered as he walked, tumble 
 from that rugged point in the boiling wel\ 
 below, and be rescued ? It cannot be, Rawlin- 
 son ; you have, with a master hand, touched the 
 strings, to see how inharmoniously they can 
 jar, when the touch is not in unison with the 
 mind." 
 
 ^* I tell you, he Uves — and far from here. I 
 have traced him by accident. A friend of 
 mine, residing in Cornwall, mentions an old 
 man who has come to reside with a brother, 
 who speaks of his being unkindly discharged 
 by Sir Ronald de Lancy. My fears made 
 me suspect. I sent one down who knew him, 
 and he lives !" 
 
 " What if he does ? he knows nothing which 
 can rise up against us. Bound together by 
 this union — the deed destroyed — Albert gone 
 — where, no one knows — all — all tends to 
 
 E 3
 
 82 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 favour us. A few years will rid us of Herbert, 
 and then, Rawlinson, we may revel in seen- 
 rity.'^ 
 
 " You are wrong about Herbert ; but be 
 assured he can injure us deeply. He was pre- 
 sent at the re- marriage of your father, and at 
 that time when busy babblers inquired why a 
 re-marriage should take place — for men are 
 generally satisfied with the parson's first bless- 
 ing — old Herbert was heard to say that some- 
 thing must be wrong, or old Sir Ronald, the 
 good and the just, would never thus attempt 
 to cast a slur upon his lady, by making it re- 
 quisite to have a new marriage. If you were 
 married and the original will destroyed," con- 
 tinued Rawlinson, with a suspicious sneer, 
 " you would not be in such a hurry to repair 
 an illegality in the first proceeding ; but would, 
 I dare say, with most pious melancholy coun- 
 tenance, regret the evil, and separate yourself 
 from it." 
 
 " You do me, perhaps, some injustice," re- 
 plied Sir Ronald, evidently much hurt at the 
 manner this imputation on his honour and ho-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 83 
 
 nesty had been cast ; but he continued — " Hu- 
 man nature has ever been prone to attribute to 
 others the same meanness which lurks in our 
 
 own breast—this deed— this d d deed— I 
 
 will have placed in Mr. Moles worth's hands to 
 be given me on the day of our marriage." 
 
 " With all my heart/' repUed RawUnson ; 
 " although I hate that fellow, for his over zea- 
 lousness, yet I have no objection to his being 
 the holder. The deed shall be sealed up, so 
 that his old eye cannot penetrate the secret ; 
 curiosity, you know, made Eve transgress, and 
 man was easily persuaded to gratify the same 
 desire; but remember Molesworth remarried 
 your father — do you think he never inquired 
 the reason of this strange unusual transaction?'* 
 
 " He knows nothing about it, for if he had," 
 remarked Sir Ronald, " he would have given 
 me a hint when he advised me not to tarnish 
 the honour of our house by an alliance with 
 yours " 
 
 Rawlinson bit his lip with vexation and re- 
 marked, •' That viper I will yet scotch ! I had' 
 long since done it, but that the old man is so
 
 84 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 meek and lowly in appearance — so apparently 
 kind to the poor — and so reverently civil to 
 his neighbour, that the clamour against the 
 action would set all the crows and daws of the 
 parish, with outstretched beaks, bellowing ven- 
 geance. My time will come.'^ 
 
 " What would you do," asked Sir Ronald, 
 " against one so honest, so respected ? I tell you, 
 Rawlinson, I would with pleasure strip myself 
 of my vast possessions, if I could but change or 
 decay away the upbraidings of conscience which 
 for ever tear me to death — if by a sacrifice of 
 property, I could obliterate the deeds ; but I 
 am placing a poisoned dagger in your hands 
 with which I know full well you will hereafter 
 w^ound me.'^ 
 
 '' Beggars, Sir Ronald, always say they 
 would give the whole world for a thing they 
 covet ; — it is easy to offer what is not beggars' 
 to give. So you may say as to the splendid 
 offering of your wealth. I could save you the 
 trouble of the gift; but that I require some of it 
 myself. But to a subject nearest both our hearts, 
 the marriage. The settlements are here —
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 85 
 
 my daughter waits — my clerk is in attendance 
 — let us no longer trifle away time — I will 
 call them in — and we can sign and seal." 
 
 " Let me run my eye over the deed/^ said 
 Sir Ronald. 
 
 " Have you not heard it read by me," inter- 
 rupted Rawlinson, " do you suspect me of 
 wishing to alienate the wealth of another ? — am 
 I in borrowed plumage ? — can any one pluck 
 me of my golden feathers and leave me a naked 
 creature unable to live — and unable to fly ? — 
 I'll ring this bell with your permission, Sir 
 Ronald." 
 
 The bell was rung, the servant told to sum- 
 mon the party — and the settlements were 
 signed. Rawhnson was the trustee for his 
 daughter, and young Molesworth, then about 
 twenty-two years of age, was nominated for 
 Sir Ronald. The attorney, with accustomed 
 precision folded up the document — some red 
 tape was wound round it — the whole was deli- 
 vered to the clerk —and all but Rawlinson, his 
 daughter and Sir Ronald had departed. 
 
 " Then to-morrow/^ said Sir Ronald, " Mar-
 
 86 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 garet, I shall claim you as a bride ! Tell me, 
 my love, have you prepared every thing you 
 wish removed? Your bridesmaids, are they 
 summoned ? and now I think of it, Margaret, 
 in all oar conversations about this important 
 step in both our lives, you have never men- 
 tioned the names of those fair ladies who are to 
 stand near you at the marriage — nay, do not 
 blush so ? there surely is no impropriety in the 
 question ; and I would not for the world call 
 up the blood upon your cheek to testify an 
 incivility on my part." 
 
 " Heavens help us I" said Rawlinson as he 
 rose to depart. " I fancy the Baronet, Marga- 
 ret, has cast aside his books of deep learning, 
 and has been busy with the art of love. I will 
 leave you for the present. Indeed, I shall not 
 be wanted again until to-morrow. The license 
 is prepared. Sir Ronald's gallantry has not 
 forgotten the ring, and to-morrow, Margaret, I 
 shall congratulate you as Lady de Lancy." 
 
 '^ You dine here to-day, Rawlinson," said 
 Sir Ronald. " I expect the clergyman and 
 some of our distant country friends to dinner ;
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 87 
 
 and some accident might render it requisite to 
 delay their departure, in which case, when I 
 am gone, you must do the honours of the 
 house. You must, therefore, be made acquainted 
 with them — I shall expect you V 
 
 " It is inconvenient. Sir Ronald, — I had 
 wished to have spent the last evening with my 
 favourite Margaret. I hardly like to part with 
 such a treasure now; but as it conduces to your 
 happiness, my daughter, and will I trust in- 
 crease your's, Sir Ronald, 1 must give up all 
 personal gratification to forward the happiness 
 of both. But I cannot dine with you to-day. 
 At the breakfast, to-morrow, you can introduce 
 me ; and accustomed to the world and its ways 
 I shall not be long in making myself mighty 
 agreeable — good morning." 
 
 ^^ Is it not a general practice, my dear girl,'^ 
 said Sir Ronald, " for the bridegroom to make 
 some small presents to the bridesmaids ? The 
 time is short, I own, for the commission ; but 
 I think it can be managed. What think you, 
 dearest ?*' 
 
 " Your liberality is so great, Sir Ronald,
 
 88 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 that I could not trespass upon it. Presents 
 are not unfrequently made ; and it is true my 
 bridesmaids, who are not in very affluent cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 " The more reason why the good custom 
 should not be abandoned. How proud I shall 
 be, Margaret, w^hen to-morrow I see you 
 dressed in your bridal attire ; — that beautiful 
 figure doing ample justice to the milliner's art 
 — this rosy lip, which love invites to kiss (nay, 
 dearest Margaret, it is an accepted lover's pri- 
 vilege ; do not withdraw from me as if I were 
 a viper — and faith I will ascertain your for- 
 giveness, by stealing another) hsj^ing out the 
 words that you will be mine, until death us do 
 part. Then shall I feel a joy to which I have 
 long been a stranger, and find my life worth 
 preserving, since I am to share the blessing of 
 yours. I have the wedding ring here, Marga- 
 ret ; let me see how it will look, with this guard 
 — nay, now this is unkind. How can I tell if 
 it will fit you, if you refuse me the trial of its 
 exactness.'^ 
 
 After some little strugghng, and some small
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 89 
 
 l^ersuasion, the coy damsel allowed the amo- 
 rous baronet to fit the ring, and then to kiss 
 the hand which graced it; and here in this 
 intoxicating moment of love Sir Ronald's heart 
 was lightened of its load, and pleasure sparkled 
 in his eye. The intellectual countenance of 
 the baronet, Ht up as it were by the torch of 
 love and pleasure, appeared handsome in the 
 eyes of Margaret. She looked upon him with 
 tenderness, and even forgot her own meanness 
 in the moment of love. 
 
 The arrival of the clergyman was a hint to 
 Margaret to withdraw. She retraced her steps 
 through the shrubbery, had already passed the 
 bower in which the declaration was made, and 
 was hurrying onwards towards the small gate 
 which led to her father's house, when, on pass- 
 ing one of the many turnings which intervened, 
 her progress was arrested by a man whose face 
 was carefully concealed, and who, in the dark- 
 ness of the evening — for it was five o'clock, 
 and in December, — stood before her as a 
 stranger. At first Margaret believed herself 
 accidentally met by one of the visitors at the
 
 90 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 castle, who had been invited to the wedding. 
 She bowed and endeavoured to pass, but she 
 felt herself withheld. 
 
 "Unhand me, Sir/^ she said, "or I shall 
 request Sir Ronald to resent this impru- 
 dence/' 
 
 " Hear me, Margaret,'' said Albert, as he 
 cast aside his disguise : " this cold evening — 
 this threatening lowering weather will keep my 
 brother from venturing beyond his house. I 
 have returned to see you for the last time^ to 
 hear from your own lips your consent to this 
 marriage. Be not afraid, Margaret; I love you 
 too sincerely to harm you; you once taught 
 me to love you, when, arm in arm through 
 these dark shrubberies, we talked of days re- 
 served for us in happiness, and when I, believ- 
 ing the words which came from your lips in 
 apparent sincerity, imagined that one day Mar- 
 garet Rawlinson would be my bride. For days 
 I have been concealed. I heard that to-mor- 
 row was the day fixed to crush my hopes. I 
 come for a confirmation of the event, and then 
 farewell for ever ! I will never intrude my
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 91" 
 
 downcast countenance to mar your pleasure, or 
 ever by my presence rebuke you for your in- 
 constancy. Is it true, Margaret ? If you can, 
 for heaven's sake deny the libel on a woman's 
 character, and stand before me the angel I have 
 ever believed you!'' 
 
 "" Why cannot you," said Margaret, ^' re- 
 turn to the castle ? All that is passed will be 
 forgotten. I will contribute to cheer your life. 
 A liberal allowance shall be made to you ; your 
 brother shall be reconciled to you." 
 
 " Pshaw P' ejaculated Albert, " you do but 
 evade an answer which you dare not give. Tell 
 me, Margaret, were you not, as far as words 
 and promises bind us in the world, mine }" 
 
 " I was, Albert; I confess it. But my father 
 would not listen to so imprudent a match. On 
 what could we subsist ? Besides, your youth 
 and inexperience were insuperable objections ; 
 and when I urged him to consent, he answered, 
 ' Albert is a nice boy, but boys make bad hus- 
 bands.' " 
 
 " And you, yielding to your father's opinion.
 
 92 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 sacrificed your affection for me, and consented 
 to marry my brother ?'* 
 
 " I did/^ replied Margaret, firmly. 
 
 " And you will not feel depressed in spirits 
 when you know that your conduct has influ- 
 enced mine. From this moment, 1 tear my- 
 self away ! But, as I live, the unnatural 
 brother who has deprived me of my love, and 
 the unfeeling woman who has sacrificed it, shall 
 find in Albert de Lancy a never sleeping 
 enemy ! Love, when neglected, we are told, 
 turns to bitter hatred ; and though at intervals 
 I am aware your figure will rise before me, and 
 the many happy moments we have spent be 
 recalled with fondness to my memory, yet will 
 I banish them with a curse, or remember them 
 only to increase my bitterness." 
 
 " You talk wildly, Albert. Have I done 
 wrong to follow a parent's injunctions?" 
 
 " Shall I do wrong, if I follow the dictates 
 of nature ?" 
 
 " It is unnatural to harbour hatred against a 
 brother and a sister.'*
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 93 
 
 " Is revenge unnatural ? Is it not implanted 
 in our nature?" 
 
 " Are we not taught to forgive our ene- 
 mies ?" 
 
 " Is it not said, ' an eye for an eye, and a 
 tooth for a tooth?' " 
 
 ^^ Is it not written, ^ do good to them which 
 despitefully use you ?' " 
 
 '' Can you, Margaret, hope, by this quota- 
 tion of Scripture, to silence the throbbings of 
 my heart ? I loved you — I love you — beyond 
 all love ! When I was ill-treated, I came to 
 you, and your fondness healed the wound 5 
 when scoffed and despised, you listened, and 
 you comforted me ; when all around appeared 
 to hate me, you alone professed to love me. 
 Did I do wrong in loving her who thus assu- 
 aged my misfortunes? Could I believe her 
 otherwise than a guardian angel ? And when 
 I thought my future life should be shared with 
 her, can I help feeling a revenge within me, 
 when 1 see the only being the earth contained, 
 on whom I founded a hope of happiness, torn 
 from me^ — not by one on whom I could have
 
 94 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 wreaked a summary vengeance — not by a 
 stranger smitten with her charms — but by a 
 brother, one who told me to have more pride 
 than to marry the daughter of an attorney, and 
 then marries her himself!" 
 
 " It is useless, Albert, thus to continue. I 
 know you loved me, and I feel it ; but the die is 
 cast, and I must abide the throw. I cannot 
 retract when the ring is placed on my finger. 
 Even now the clergyman who is to unite us is 
 under your brother's roof; from the distant 
 parts of the county those friends who are to 
 honour us by their company are arrived. I 
 should, by changing my mind, entail a ridicule 
 for ever upon your family. Besides, Albert, if 
 reason could guide you now, how soon might 
 your prospects appear to brighten. I could 
 persuade your brother to forward your views — 
 to place you in a proper position in life. 
 Whereas, if I married you, I should place a 
 mill-stone round your neck, which would, how- 
 ever much you might struggle, sink you to the 
 bottom. Be advised; appear to-morrow at 
 the wedding — wear a cheerful countenance.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 95 
 
 Forgive me for having violated my word to 
 you, and I will prove how sincerely I love you, 
 by the good I will effect in your situation in 
 life/' 
 
 " Hear me, Margaret — listen to me, as I 
 kneel at your feet ! I have, in poverty, it is 
 true, offered you my hand, and you have ac- 
 cepted it. Tell me, before I go distracted, can 
 no persuasion induce you to fly with me ? 
 Nay, Margaret, do not start so ! Your father 
 will be reconciled, when it will be useless to 
 continue an opposition. Nature will move 
 the heart towards a daughter ; and trust me, 
 you will be happier with one who loves you, 
 than in the wavering disposition of a man, who 
 one moment will caress, the next despise you. 
 This moment, Margaret, — now — let us fly — 
 and " 
 
 " Never V interrupted the girl, ^^ never, 
 Albert ; my mind is irrevocably fixed upon the 
 marriage, and to-morrow I shall be your sis- 
 ter.'^ 
 
 " Never will I believe it, Margaret, until I 
 see it ! and even then, shall doubt my eyes
 
 96 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 and my ears. Once again, let me persuade 
 -you, entreat you." 
 
 " It is useless — I must retire. The wind is 
 piercing cold, and my father awaits me. Hark ! 
 there is six striking ; it will be difficult to 
 frame an excuse for this unusual absence. — 
 Good night." 
 
 " Not thus, Margaret, must we part ! I 
 have known you long, cherished you fondly. 
 Not even now, when I feel the devil rising in 
 my breast, can I consent to such a cold and 
 formal salutation. Here is a ring, Margaret, — 
 it was my mother's. I was young when she 
 died ; but I remember her last injimction was 
 to preserve it carefully, as it might one day 
 serve me. Oh, that the spirit of her who 
 reared me in all tenderness would come from 
 her resting place on high, to move you in ac- 
 cordance with my Tvishes ! Take it, Margaret, 
 for my sake ; wear it, and be as bright an or- 
 nament to your sex as was my poor dear 
 mother ! And surely, Margaret, you might 
 bestow upon me one kiss — the last I shall ever 
 covet. Come, dearest girl, let us part in all
 
 THE spnriRE. 97 
 
 fondness — with all kindness one towards an- 
 other/^ 
 
 " I cannot, Albert, I cannot," replied the 
 girl, and breaking from him, neither accepted 
 the ring, nor gave the parting kiss. 
 
 " She is gone !" said Albert, as he watched 
 the object he once so much loved ; " gone ! — 
 without even one parting press of that hand I 
 have so often held in mine — no last word of 
 tenderness or of hope — but a kind of sullen 
 determination for ever to forget me ! And I 
 must bear it all 5 here in these cold shrubberies 
 must I walk, hke an unquiet spirit, to quiet 
 my own heart ; for here how often have I 
 walked with her ! This bower I reared because 
 she one day spoke of the jessamine as a fa- 
 vorite flower, caUing it a bright star in the 
 bosom of the night, and Hkening it to the mo- 
 dern lady, who shines most when evening 
 throws a darkness over all ! I could root it up 
 for vengeance sake, but that the changing dis- 
 position of her heart, perhaps, would never 
 miss it. Now could I but find old Herbert, 
 and make him the sole depository of my plan, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 I should feel more at ease. But he was miss- 
 ing in a strange manner ; and yet who could 
 accuse my brother? I am unfit for reason, 
 and could better herd with men as mad as my- 
 self. Aye, the bell again — the summons to 
 the table ; there will be joy and revelry — 
 speeches from the lip, and not from the heart 
 — words of welcome — the place which I should 
 fill, filled by a stranger ; and when, perhaps 
 some one of the company who may have known 
 me in happier days, should inquire of me, the 
 answer will be warm and affectionate ! there 
 will be regret at my absence, whilst the devil 
 would be more welcome at that board than 
 myself! Of all life's miseries, excepting the 
 continual blotting out of one's friends from 
 the book of life, and the fear of being the last 
 to linger in solitude, there is none greater than 
 that of brooding over misfortunes, occasioned 
 by the kindness of one's family — those are the 
 real restless creatures who kindly manage every 
 one's concerns but their own, and tell you that 
 love is well to amuse youth, but that discretion 
 and prudence are the children of age and expe-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 99 
 
 rience. I vnW see this wedding, and then I 
 will plunge headlong into the world, and leave 
 chance to extricate me. And now to enquire 
 concerning Herbert.'^ 
 
 f2
 
 100 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The morning broke darkly; the weather 
 was windy, murky, rainy. Sir Ronald rose 
 from his bed but half satisfied with the restless 
 slumber he had stolen. This day was to seal 
 his fate — either to be the man of large fortune, 
 wedded to the daughter of his bitterest foe, or to 
 fall from his high estate, and allow the brother 
 he had so shamefully spurned to fill his proper 
 chair ! The company arrived — a breakfast was 
 prepared ; there seemed joy and contentment 
 on ever}^ face. Even Sir Ronald's fixed, deter- 
 mined countenance relaxed a little of its seve- 
 rity; and he occasionally ventured a joke, 
 which, however well imagined, seemed in his 
 deep hollow voice, like the jest of a condemned 
 criminal before execution.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 101 
 
 Amongst this party was young Molesworth ; 
 the father, although he refused to countenance 
 the match, did not prevent his son from enjoy- 
 ing the day's entertainment. Besides, he had 
 ever been the friend of Albert, and was now 
 Sir Ronald's trustee. Some days had elapsed 
 since Molesworth and Albert had met, and he 
 was the more anxious to see him, to glean 
 from him some account of this extraordinary 
 alliance which the elder brother was about to 
 make, A succession of company arrived — but 
 there was no Albert. 
 
 At last, bedizened in all the nonsense of the 
 bridal dress, appeared Margaret and her father. 
 With the bride came two bridesmaids, one 
 fairer than the bride in face and form, whose 
 large blue eyes were brightened with astonish- 
 ment at the splendour of the scene around her. 
 She was a friend of Margaret Rawlinson, who 
 had resided in Cornwall for some years. Young 
 she was, for fifteen years had hardly passed 
 over her ; yet being a plant of quick growth, 
 had early become a woman. She alone was
 
 102 THE SPTTFmZ. 
 
 tke sole depositary of Margaret's heart ; they 
 bad, wiien jomig^ been much together, and 
 there grew up between them a more than fe- 
 minine firiendship. 
 
 They were, in all respects, different : Laura 
 Maekemie was aU heart, sincerity, affection; 
 Maigaict was cold, caknlatiiig, reserved ; Mar- 
 gvefc was a dari^ beauty, with a peculiarly 
 wdi-^sbssped profile; the other was a smiling 
 Hebe, better seen in front. There was a play- 
 ful good-humour on her hps, whilst on those 
 of ^largaret there was a compressed kind of 
 detenniiiation* Laura had the pouting hp of 
 Viiidnfaai and benerolence, the other the thin 
 ezpresaicm of care and reserve. Sir Bonald 
 started when he was introduced to her; but 
 the flush which covered his saUow countenance 
 soon passed away, and he appeared formal in 
 kif manner; he welcomed her, however, 
 warmly. 
 
 The clergyman was the first to suggest, toat 
 if all were present who were e:spected5 it were 
 heiJba to proceed with the ceremony. There
 

 
 104 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 of little moment ; she considered it an awful 
 step in a woman's life^ and as her eyes scanned 
 the gorgeous scene around her, she thought 
 that happiness and contentment required not 
 all the meretricious decorations which seemed 
 like gilding a sepulchre ; for when she looked 
 at the moving anatomy, Sir Ronald, it was 
 hard indeed for even fancy to dress him as a 
 bridegroom, and to render him an idol worthy 
 of love. 
 
 The previous arrangements, such as placing 
 the bridegroom and the bride, being completed, 
 the clergyman began the ceremony. The 
 church, in which it was to be performed, was 
 larger than is generally under the roof of the 
 largest mansions. It had a gallery, supported 
 by large pillars. There was likewise an organ 
 of some value. Around the walls were tablets 
 on which the lapidary had deeply engraven the 
 virtues of the de Lancy family; over each 
 was the achievement, which had been placed 
 on the house to warn the passer by that a great 
 person was no more. Foolish pride ! for if 
 one were really good, the doleful news would
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 105 
 
 reach the farthest friend without this decora- 
 tion of woe ; and if bad, the sooner the earth 
 covers over him who has disgraced his being, 
 and left behind him the worst example, the 
 better. A total oblivion is preferable, than 
 showing vice to have been blessed with riches 
 and luxuries. 
 
 In the chapel there might have been about 
 forty persons. The household servants, (all of 
 whom had long resided in the family, and were 
 now about to be changed, for Lady de Lancy 
 disliked all servants who might have known 
 too much) were present ; but there seemed no 
 intruders. 
 
 The clergyman had proceeded to the part — 
 " Let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever 
 hold his peace,'^ — when the voice of Albert 
 was heard, as he came from behind one of the 
 pillars, and said : 
 
 "• I forbid these banns !" 
 
 It was uttered not in haste or in anger, but 
 in a slow determined voice. 
 
 The clergyman instantly stopped; but Raw- 
 linson advanced and whispered that poor Al- 
 
 f3
 
 106 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 bert was subject to slight insanity, and had 
 beHeved that his daughter was in love with 
 him. "Allow him," he continued, "to pass 
 unnoticed, and proceed. There can be no ob- 
 jection to the union. I am her father ; Sir 
 Ronald, you know, is unmarried.'* 
 
 Sir Ronald looked round with a glance of 
 reproach, but said not a word ; whilst Laura, 
 astonished at the interruption, raised her veil, 
 and looked at Albert. Their eyes met ; there 
 was in Laura's the expression of pity. She 
 had been told by Margaret that she anticipated 
 this interruption, for that Albert had not left 
 the neighbourhood. That look of Laura si- 
 lenced at once the reproach Albert had des- 
 tined for his brother. He stood, as it were, 
 bewildered ; whilst the clergyman, satisfied of 
 the words of Rawlinson, for they were conclu- 
 sive, continued the ceremony. 
 
 The ring was given — the marriage complete. 
 The daughter of Rawlinson was the wife of the 
 proud Ronald de Lancy. The cheers of the 
 tenantry, who were regaled with unusual pro- 
 fusion, resounded through the church. The
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 107 
 
 whole company had departed ; but Albert re- 
 mained. Slowly and cautiously, when all had 
 retired, he advanced to the spot on which his 
 brother had knelt, and there, with uplifted 
 hands and maniac mind, he swore to be re- 
 venged upon him who had blighted his hopes 
 for ever ! And yet, in all his worst impreca- 
 tions, he called upon heaven to bless her who 
 had thus deserted him ! Rising from the 
 cushion on which he had knelt, he kissed the 
 altar, and said aloud : 
 
 " I gO) just heaven, to keep my vow !" 
 
 He turned to depart, but was interrupted by 
 Laura. 
 
 '^ This is no place,'^ she began, " to tell the 
 purport of my coming; pass but the door, 
 and I will be a faithful messenger .^^ 
 
 Fascinated by the voice — the meek and 
 humble voice of Laura — Albert retired from 
 the church towards the room in which the 
 company were assembled. He stopped, how- 
 ever, directly he heard the sound of voices, 
 and Laura began.
 
 108 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " I come, Mr. de Lancy, from Lady de 
 Lancy, to request you will forget the past, 
 and join in the gaiety around us. She has 
 made me acquainted with all the circumstances. 
 Your brother is softened ; for he could not 
 refuse the first request of his bride ; and he 
 promises you a sincere and affectionate wel- 
 come, and to forward you in any path of life 
 you may select." 
 
 ^' I cannot, fair young lady, accept even 
 from your lips the reconciliation they have 
 oflfered. They could not have selected one 
 whose angel features were more likely to suc- 
 ceed. But on that altar from which you saw 
 me arise, I have sworn an oath from which no 
 time shall ever absolve me. The die is cast, 
 and I must abide the throw. My brother has 
 been a serpent in my path \ he has stung me, as 
 I folded him to my breast, at the very moment 
 when he pretended to have overcome his dis- 
 like to solitude ; and even to me — he was pre- 
 paring for me, whilst presenting to my lips the 
 chalice of intoxicating pleasure, the bitterest
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 109 
 
 dregs of misery. I have drank it— I have 
 drained it of its last drop ! But vengeance 
 shall be mine ! I swear " 
 
 " Stop, Sir/' said Laura, her eye kindhng 
 with animation, " let me not hear your oath, I 
 came as the messenger of peace; surely you have 
 more kindness than to wish me to return the har- 
 binger of discord. Margaret has requested you 
 to consider that now her marriage is celebrated, 
 that she urges you not by former affection, 
 which she must forget, but by a sister's claim, 
 to rehnquish aU that useless passion which 
 renders her miserable, and must leave you in 
 poverty/' 
 
 " TeU her, fair lady, for as yet I am unac- 
 quainted with your name ;'^ — " It is Laura 
 Mackenzie," she interrupted — " That I forgive 
 her, — I bear no enmity against her ; her happi- 
 ness and welfare I have prayed for, and yet I 
 own I have neutralized the prayer by my vow 
 against my brother. Tell her that I go from 
 this moment an outcast from my proper home 
 to seek some employment ; that I scorn 
 to be beholden to my brother for a penny.
 
 110 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 And do you be an ambassador in my behalf 
 and return to Sir Ronald this purse, which, in 
 the frenzy of the moment, I snatched from his 
 hand. The world is wide, Miss Mackenzie ; 
 chance may throw me again in your path ; and 
 then as now I shall thank you warmly for your 
 kind interest in me, and bless that mild and 
 angel countenance, that has almost won me 
 from my oath." 
 
 " If you were sincere in your words, Sir, you 
 would relinquish a vow made in haste and con- 
 trary to your religion ; — I am but young, Mr. de 
 Lancy, and perhaps, forward and impertinent ; 
 but my mother taught me, that forgiveness of 
 trespasses against ourselves constituted the 
 greatest part of christian charity." 
 
 " Your mother instructed a heart of differ- 
 ent mould from that of Lady de Lancy's. 
 Go to that company whose cheer of happiness 
 strike me almost to the earth. Contribute to 
 their enjoyment, by showing that face beaming 
 with youth, and loveliness, and happiness ; and 
 may He who rules and disposes all hearts, keep
 
 THE SPITFIRE. Ill 
 
 yours from the weight of misery and anguish, 
 which weighs down mine ! You do not despise 
 me, I hope, nor will consider this respectful beha- 
 viour as other than the expression of my thanks.'* 
 
 '^ But once more let me beg of you to con- 
 sider ; — let me,"' — said the smiling girl, " join 
 my influence, if I possess any, to that of 
 Margaret^s, — stay. Sir, with your family, and 
 your friends.'^ 
 
 " I am trodden upon,'^ he replied with some 
 vehemence, " by my family ; and for my friends," 
 he added with a bitterness, that would have 
 done credit to his brother's satanic mind, — " I 
 leave them my character to uphold ! Good bye, 
 Miss Mackenzie — 1 shall be happier working 
 for my livelihood, than in idleness, and in luxury. 
 Wherever I go, I shall remember your kind 
 action." 
 
 He again took her hand, and as he kissed it 
 with respect, he raised his eyes, end saw the 
 large tear start from her eye lid, and course 
 down her face, as if sensible she had betrayed 
 a feeling for de Lancy, which her modesty
 
 112 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 forbade. She quickly withdrew her hand, and 
 not trusting herself to speak, she hurried from 
 the room, to join the marriage breakfast^ and 
 to deliver the last determination of Albert. 
 
 Albert watched her to the door, and listened 
 to her retreating footsteps. The second door 
 had closed ; he looked round the apartment 
 for the last time, as if searching for some- 
 thing, which should for ever remind him of his 
 home, and opening a drawer of a circular table, 
 he took a diminutive old book, passed through 
 the church, and with the small sum of five shil- 
 lings, began life in reality. 
 
 In the meantime, the bride had retired to 
 change her dress ; the breakfast was spread, and 
 the father in-law, who had usurped the seat of 
 Albert, sat at the head of the table, whilst the 
 bridegroom was making some preparation for 
 departure. 
 
 When Sir Ronald returned, and the bride 
 came to take her farewell kiss of her father, and 
 receive the gratulations of the company, digni- 
 fied as friends, young Molesworth stepped up.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 113 
 
 and putting a large kind of letter in Sir Ronald^s 
 hand said " I deliver up my trust to you, for 
 there is no doubt of your marriage.'^ 
 
 The carriage drove off, and the happy pair 
 retired to an estate in Dorsetshire.
 
 114 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 With an aching heart. Albert left Raven 
 Castle, and inwardly vowed he would never 
 return, unless as its owner. ^' I will come back," 
 he said to himself, " often to mar his pros- 
 pects ; I will be near him, when he least expects 
 it ; for if Laura is there, I can gratify two of 
 the best feelings in our nature, love and re- 
 venge." 
 
 He wandered along the high road, in mind a 
 gentleman, but a beggar in reahty. Whither 
 he bent his steps, seemed quite immaterial; 
 the world was all before him ; hope cheered him 
 on 3 behind him, was all he hated, and his
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 115 
 
 heart grew lighter, as he increased his distance 
 from his brother. 
 
 Fatigue overcame him, he had walked long 
 and fast, and nature gave him the first hint 
 that his mind was too active for his body. He 
 sat himself down by a gate, and in spite of the 
 season of the year, fell asleep, and slept soundly. 
 At night, he found a bed for a small sum ; and 
 there, released from the painful surveillance, to 
 which he had been subjected, he pondered 
 over his future prospects. His first idea was 
 to find some situation, for which he was per- 
 fectly eligible, in any office, either under go- 
 vernment or in some private house. He felt cer- 
 tain that the gentleman would be seen in the 
 manners, more than in the coat; and as in 
 youth all difficulties seem easily dispelled, so 
 Albert de Lancy saw only the brightness of 
 futurity, and never once thought of all the 
 miseries to be overcome, before he could mount 
 into affluence. 
 
 The morning brought with it some few hints 
 that no time was to be lost ; his fortune had 
 dwindled away more than half; and the next
 
 116 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 morning would see him reduced to beggary. 
 He was far from London, that best mart for 
 talent of any description ; and he found his best 
 means of getting there, was to embark on board 
 of some coaster. There he had an uncle, who 
 certainly would not allow him to starve ; and 
 from his purse, he calculated, he should be 
 able to remunerate the captain, who would 
 grant him a passage. 
 
 He had now reached Newport, in Wales, a 
 sea-port, of not very large dimensions, and 
 washed by St. George's channel ; — with a reck- 
 less disregard to his appearance, he walked 
 into a house, where several low characters were 
 seated, singing and smoking 5 and amongst these 
 he seated himself. That day he had eaten 
 scarcely enough, to sustain him through his 
 fatigue ; and with a kind of despair, for he knew 
 it would leave him without a penny, he ordered 
 some supper, and at the same time, called for 
 some porter. 
 
 Although Albert*s dress, was none the better 
 for the wear and tear of the last two days, yet 
 amongst those with whom he now congregated,
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 117 
 
 he looked like a prince. There were three or 
 four^ of the lowest of the low ; who having 
 been gambling for their few pence^, were now 
 benefiting the winner, who, with a generosity, 
 very common in low life, spent that for which 
 he had risked his own money, to drown for a 
 moment in oblivion the knowledge of absolute 
 poverty, with which the losers were at this 
 time cursed. 
 
 Here Albert first heard the low conversation, 
 the utter disregard of decency, the cursing, 
 and swearing, of those who toil through life for 
 a small pittance, who are wanting in prudence, 
 and neglect to save a farthing. By the side of 
 this group, were three or four seafaring men. 
 It was difficult for Albert, to satisfy his mind, 
 whether these were men of wars-men, or sea- 
 men on leave from a merchant brig, which he 
 had observed in the roadstead ; but their con- 
 versation was at any rate more to the taste of 
 Albert, than the constant drunken exclamations 
 of the ragamuffin crew, who were now gloriously 
 intoxicated, and who allowed the pipes to fall 
 from their mouths, the lips of the brutes being 
 unable to retain them.
 
 118 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " Avast heaving there, Tom/' said one of 
 the group of seamen, ^' its all very well for you to 
 wish to live a little ashore ; you have a wife and 
 child, and in course you would like to give them 
 hail for a week or so ; that's natural enough ; 
 but then what's to become of the craft, if we all 
 were to take French leave at the same time ; 
 besides what's the use of splicing yourself on to 
 a woman, or grubbing through life, like those 
 drunken devils there ; whilst with a fair wind, 
 and a clear sky, we may run over the world, 
 pick up money enough to last out our old age, 
 and when the rough weather of youth is passed, 
 we may come to an anchor and moor ship for 
 a full due." 
 
 ^' That's all true enough ; but I want to see 
 my wife and child; and I tell you, I'll meet 
 you here again on my return." — 
 
 " Why we have caught some twenty or thirty, 
 and I think,'' he continued giving a knowing 
 wink towards Albert, " we may have that gentle- 
 man, in the long toggery there, who is cram- 
 ming down the cold meat, as if his stomach had 
 had many a Banian day. I wonder who the 
 devil he is, in this house."
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 119 
 
 " When he's done his allowance, we'll try 
 and get him to volunteer. He's too much of a 
 gentleman for us to pounce upon." 
 
 " Aye, he's a young one," said another, 
 " like a young bear, all his sorrows to come. 
 Lets have a song, and then we^U ask him to 
 join us ; for he looks precious melancholy like ; 
 and a little grog and a sailor's song, has driven 
 the blue devils from many a man's mind. — 
 Now, Tom." 
 
 " When the fresh breeze is blowing our ship from the land, 
 And Poll waves the kerchief and kisses her hand. 
 We forget all our love, in the duty we owe, 
 For our life is the King's, boys, wherever we go ! 
 
 We forget in the strife, 
 
 On the ocean of life. 
 All the petty vexations of shore going blades ; 
 
 And our hearts only burn. 
 
 With the hope of return, 
 And the wish for the dollars, to give to the maids ! 
 
 ** There are many who draw from the store room of grief, 
 A bucket of tears, which they call a relief, 
 But the change of the scene, ever varying the view, 
 A new spring of joy, in our bosoms renew. 
 And when the deck's clear.
 
 120 THE -SPITFIRE. 
 
 And the enemy's near, 
 We look at the flag which waves over our head ; 
 Then we cheerfully sing 
 For our country and King, 
 And the tear which we drop, is the tear for the dead ! 
 
 " What's the use of repining, our life's but a dream. 
 
 Yet the sunshine of hope through all sorrows may gleam j 
 With the heart of true seamen we'll buffet the waves, 
 And free as the breeze — for no sailors are slaves ! 
 
 O'er the ocean we'll roam, 
 
 For the sea is our home, 
 And Poll shall rejoice when we come back again ; 
 
 Then the grog shall go round, 
 
 And contentment be found, 
 For employment of time ever banishes pain I" 
 
 " Aye Tom, that^s all true enough," remark- 
 ed one of the men. " I believe I'll not go to 
 see my wife and child ; once afloat, and what 
 with the ship's duty, and^as you say, some 
 employment to keep the devil out of our minds, 
 who are so happy as we sailors ? I beg your 
 pardon. Sir," continued this man, who in the 
 absence of his officer was the leader of the 
 gang, " but I hope we don^t disturb you by 
 our singing ?"
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 121 
 
 " Not in the least, Sir'^ said Albert ; " on the 
 contrary, your song has done me much service ; 
 for I felt very heavy of heart, and I believe 
 that employment wiU make me more happy/' 
 
 ^' Why don^t you go to sea. Sir,*' said Tom, 
 " there you'll hear singing, with all manners of 
 airs, from the light breeze to the h eavy gale ; 
 the wind always sings a bit ; and as for money, 
 if you want that, why you borrow it from the 
 first Frenchman who crosses your hawse ; and 
 when you get it Hke a man, why you spend it 
 like a man ; you don't clap it in your pocket 
 like a miser, but you make your friends happy, 
 as we are now. — Come, Sir, join us now in a 
 glass ; here^s the money, I'll stand treat.*' 
 
 At this moment, a rough looking man, well 
 wrapped up in a large great coat, with a tar- 
 paulin hat on his head, came in. 
 
 " Come lads,^' he began, ^' its time to be 
 moving ; the boat is on shore. What have we 
 here ?" 
 
 " They are fish. Sir, for our net," replied 
 Tom ; " they were more than we could manage 
 at first, so I told Bill Haliday to go and black 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 his face, and play pitch halfpenny with them, 
 he's a regular good one at that, and he soon 
 won all their money ; he then gets them in here, 
 and makes them drunk, and there they are 
 like so many casks, ready for shipping, and Bill 
 as drunk as any of them.'' 
 
 ^^This is a good haul indeed! Well done, 
 Tom, you are the boy for inventions. Come,hand 
 them off to the boat ; take them on board, and 
 come ashore again for me, Til wait here for 
 you." 
 
 " Here's a gentleman. Sir," said Tom, " who 
 is kind enough to join us in a glass of grog. 
 He wants employment, he says;" and then, 
 whispering to his officer, Tom added : "He 
 looks so precious like a young lawyer, that- 1 
 was afraid to take him at once ; but if you 
 keep him at work a little, we'll do him nice 
 enough." 
 
 *' Look sharp on board, and bear a hand 
 back again ; I want to get to sea to-night ; the 
 '\;\ind is fair down the channel. '^ 
 
 Albert saw the drunken men taken away, 
 ■without their being able to make the slightest
 
 THE SPITFIRE 123 
 
 resistance, and began to think that old Tom's 
 song was not exactly true, at least that line 
 which sounded so well when it was sung — 
 
 ** And free as the breeze, for no sailors are slaves." 
 
 And yet, knowing so httle of the world, 
 he never suspected that he was, in all 
 probabilit}'', to be the next man pressed into 
 his majesty's service. His appearance had as 
 yet protected him ; but the officer soon gleaned 
 enough to satisfy himself he would not require 
 much coaxing, to make him take the bounty 
 and volunteer. 
 
 " Aye," said the midshipman, " you have a 
 long way to go, to get to London, and not 
 much money to pay your way ; and when you 
 get there, you will only begin some miserable 
 life. Why don't you be a sailor ? you will 
 soon have your pockets filled, and then you'll 
 come back again a happy man. What do you 
 say ? Come on board with me to-night ; and 
 if you don't like it, why I can land you again 
 at sunrise. It's much better than sleeping in 
 this dirty house," 
 
 " I have no objection," said Albert. 
 
 G 2
 
 124 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " Of course not/' said the midshipman ; 
 " why you'll be made secretary to the captain, 
 and instructor-general to the Heutenants. 
 Here, landlord, what does this gentleman 
 owe ? Here*s the money. Take my arm. Sir ; 
 you seem tired. That's all right; here's the 
 boat ; mind how you step in. Tom, hand the 
 gentleman aft, and take him on board, and bear 
 a hand on shore again. Tell the cook to get 
 the supper ready, and show the gentleman to 
 his bed." 
 
 The boat pushed off, and in a very few mi- 
 nutes she was alongside of a small sloop. 
 Albert was handed out, not quite so respect- 
 fully as he was ushered in. The main hatch 
 was taken off; and as he declined civilly to go 
 down, preferring to wait on deck till the 
 officer's return, he was told to do as he was 
 ordered, was shoved down, and found himself 
 amongst the drunken beggars who had so re- 
 cently been shipped. 
 
 Quite in vain was all his resistance 5 he was 
 fairly entrapped ; and he was quite wise enough 
 to know that the drunken brutes by whom he
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 125 
 
 was surrounded were unable, even if they were 
 willing, to resent the injury done to a de 
 Lancy. Fatigued by the day's walk, he 
 crept away into a corner ; and having bitterly 
 regretted his folly in leaving his brother's 
 house, he resolved vengeance, allowed all his 
 gentlemanly blood to boil over, and fell 
 asleep. 
 
 His slumbers were not of long duration. 
 The press-gang brought back one or two sober 
 men, who had most gloriously fought for their 
 liberty, but who were ultimately worsted, and 
 forced on board. These men, having found 
 themselves in security from which they could 
 not escape, began to laugh at their situation, 
 and cheered each other up by saying, " Perhaps 
 it was all for the best, and they would show 
 they yet retained their freedom of voice by 
 singing songs." This they did with lusty 
 lungs ; whilst in the intervals Albert heard the 
 seamen on deck getting the vessel under weigh. 
 Before half an hour had elapsed, every one of 
 the pressed men were attacked by that uni- 
 versal enemy, sea-sickness.
 
 126 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 A night of greater misery Albert never pass- 
 ed, although, as will be seen hereafter, his life 
 was one of strange vicissitudes. Nothing pros- 
 trates mind and body more than sea-sickness ; 
 the hero and the coward alike succumb, with- 
 out either resistance or flight ; and all the joys 
 of life, be they in prospective or in the memory 
 of the past, seem banished for a season. 
 
 About eight o^clock next morning the pressed 
 men were brought on deck, two or three at a 
 time. They were asked if they preferred to 
 volunteer, but all refused, excepting Albert. He 
 asked, if he refused, if he must be sent down 
 to that hole again ? On being answered in the 
 affirmative, he said he would enter, and accor- 
 dingly they proceeded to make a sailor of him. 
 
 The name he gave was Albert Mortimer, for 
 the pride of family still heldj a place in his 
 heart. His coat tails were docked j opposite his 
 name on the book was placed the word volun- 
 teer ; — and Mortimer, from all the luxury he 
 might have enjoyed in Raven Castle, consented, 
 rather than return to the brother who had ill- 
 used him, and the sister-in-law who had de-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 127 
 
 ceived him, to face all the perils of the sea, 
 and all the miseries of a foremost man. 
 
 But the mind of him who has received some 
 education does not so easily fall. He was still 
 a gentleman ; and it was merely the folly of 
 despair which made him enter into service — 
 little knowing the difficulty he would experi- 
 ence in obtaining his discharge. 
 
 For some days the Arrow (for that was the 
 cutter's name) beat about against variable 
 winds, during which time the sea -sickness had 
 taken its leave, and Mortimer joined the crew 
 of an evening, and Hstened with some delight 
 to the daring exploits which these seamen had 
 witnessed. 
 
 " I'll tell you," said Tom, who was by far 
 the most expert at enticing novices to enter the 
 service, " there's nothing in the universal 
 world half so good as a fine yard-arm to yard- 
 arm fight. It is then the real British blood is 
 seen -, the thicker the smoke, the heavier the 
 fire, the lighter becomes the sailor^s heart. 
 It's all true that we feel a Httle queer when we 
 stand to our quarters, as we are ranging up
 
 128 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 alongside. But only let the first shot be fired 
 from the bow gun, and all along the main deck 
 every man stands ready at his quarters; he 
 does not care a straw if both his arms are 
 turned into French telegraphs, or if his legs 
 are shot off and his carcase given to Davy 
 Jones ! He thinks no more of his life than 
 the mast-head man aloft thinks of the lower 
 deck holy-stone ; and when it begins, why then 
 each man cheers his neighbour. The flag of 
 Old England waves proudly from the peak, 
 and in twenty minutes down comes the tri- 
 coloured rag. Fll just tell of one action. It 
 will make your heart jump, Mortimer; and 
 you'll love the life you have chosen. ^^
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 129 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 " Come sit down here, my lads," said Tom, 
 " while I twist you this yam ; —before eight and 
 forty hours are over our heads, some of the new 
 ones below will be watched and quartered, and 
 may be have experienced the hke of what I 
 am going to relate. I tell you, lads, whenever 
 it shall come to pass, that old sailors give up 
 Saturday nights, and sing no more songs, or 
 spin no more yarns, then we shall lose our 
 superiority on the seas, — and some other nation 
 will hoist another broom at the mast heads of 
 its ships, as the Dutchmen did before we walk- 
 ed off with it ; and we shall be swept up as 
 clean as the quarter deck at seven bells ; but we 
 shall never hve to see that day, so I won't get 
 melancholy by thinking of it. 
 
 G 3
 
 230 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " Well, lads, its sometime back ; for it was in 
 1799 that I belonged to a frigate, on the East 
 Indian station, called the Sibylle, — she had 
 been built in France, and was no doubt intend- 
 ed to do much mischief to our trade, but she 
 happened in 1 794 to get too near to the old 
 Romney, and they did not part company as 
 enemies. — Bless your hearts, the Sibylle became 
 an English frigate^ before the crew had time to 
 rig themselves out in their best toggery, in order 
 to answer to their names, on board of their new 
 ship. Well, there she was, a prize, brought 
 into the service with her proper name, for they 
 did not rechristen her ; when they changed the 
 god-father, Edward Cooke commanded her, 
 and we went to the East Indies, where, at that 
 time, a Frenchman of the name of Saucy or 
 Sercy, as they mis-spelt it, had the imprudence 
 to be sailing about those seas, with an admiral's 
 flag flying, — aye and many^s the Indiaman he 
 walked ofi* with ; but somehow or other, we 
 never could find how. 
 
 " Well, amongst the French squadron, was a 
 ship called " aForte,^^ she measured 1400 tons.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 131 
 
 mounted fifty two guns in all, as com- 
 plement to her battery. This ship was always 
 at some nonsense or another, she was here, 
 there, and every where, and her captain was as 
 well named as his ship, they called him Captain 
 Bowl-along (BeauUeu C. Long) and, sure 
 enough, he got that battery of his under weight 
 and bowled along gallantly. 
 
 ^* This ship was big enough to have stowed the 
 Sibylle away upon her booms, we were only 
 1091 tons, though we mounted 48 guns, and 
 had only 297 men and boys, and when an offi- 
 cer of the Forte who commanded a cartel, came 
 on board of us, and heard we were going out 
 to look after his ship, he hummed a song, as 
 we shewed him round the ship. He said some- 
 thing about " mangy and ale" to which our 
 purser steward, who knew about as much of 
 French as a Spanish tortoise does of the Spa- 
 nish language, said was, ma/i^e*a?25 ail, QV that 
 he would eat us without garlick. Well, says 
 Cooke, never mind, Tm just the cook that can 
 dress the onion any way I like, and I'll warm 
 it, in a precious stew.
 
 132 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " Out we went to sea from Madras roads, on 
 the 19th of February, every man and boy on 
 board of us, being as well convmced that we 
 should muster short of a messmate, before we 
 returned back again to shew our colours to 
 Fort St. George, as that we were steering for 
 the sand heads, at the mouth of the Bengal 
 River. There we expected to find this floating 
 Forte; for she had made sad havoc amongst 
 the Indiamen, and generally kept somewhere 
 in their track, — aye, every Saturday night we 
 got together forward, at least some of us old 
 ones, and we sung the youngsters a song, and 
 told them what they might expect, which was 
 some hard blows, but a certain prize, a lopped 
 off fin and Greenwich hospital. Then the young 
 ^nes used to crowd around us, and every bless- 
 ed one of them cocked up their ears like the 
 mate of the deck, when its ' grog ahoy.' — I 
 tell you, lads, these yarns keep up the pluck of 
 the navy ; what is it but the history of the ser- 
 vice told by an eye-witness ? But to be sure 
 eye-witnesses do sometimes tell precious long 
 stories.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 133 
 
 " On the evening of the 28th of February' — 
 it's not very hkely I should forget that day of 
 the month — the wind was hght from the S. S. W. 
 and the night preciously dark ; we were on the 
 starboard tack, standing under easy sail, close 
 hauled, looking up of course S. E. when the 
 lookout man on the weather quarter reported 
 some flashes, which although they looked like 
 lightning, where somehow too short for that, 
 and he thought it was just as well for him to 
 report it, as to get his back scratched on Thurs- 
 day, for keeping a bad look out. 
 
 '' The flashes bore about N. W. and the ofiicer 
 of the watch remarked, they always came exactly 
 from the same point, and were always of the same 
 kind ; well, before he reports this to the captain, 
 for it was only half past eight, and the mate of 
 the watch was mustering us by the binnacle 
 light, he asks the first Heutenant, Mr. Lucius 
 Hardyman, what he thinks of it, and says 
 Hardyman, I think we might as well go and see 
 if its lightning or not ; so down goes the offi- 
 cer of the watch, and mentions it to the captain, 
 — he comes up with a night glass as thick
 
 134 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 round, as the mizen topmast, and as short as 
 its fid, and he looks round and round, every- 
 thing being upside down, but he sees no mast 
 head tumbling up to the skies ; but still the 
 flashes go on, until nine o'clock when all of a 
 sudden they stop. 
 
 (e ( rpj^g lightning is come to an anchor,' said 
 the look out man, just loud enough to be over 
 heard, ' I'm blessed if they weren't all guns.^ 
 
 " ^ Tack ship, Mr. Hardyman, with the hands ; 
 put out every light; stow the hammock, and 
 beat to quarters, — round came the saucy Sibylle 
 on the larboard tack, and we edged away 
 about W. N. W. when at 9. 30 we saw three 
 large ships bearing S. E. 
 
 ^^ That's Captain Bowl-along, said some of us, 
 first of all, he is bearing N. W. and then in half 
 an hour, or an hour, he bears S. E. but we are 
 after you, my hearty, we'll see what you're 
 made of, and so we made a little more sail, 
 passed about two miles to leeward of them, then 
 stood on till we could weather them, then 
 round about again on the starboard tack, — in 
 top gallant sails, — up courses, and hurrah for
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 135 
 
 the centre ship, which was on our lee-bow, and 
 shewed a light from her stern, and which we 
 were pretty certain from her size, was the 
 Frenchman after all. 
 
 " Well, the breeze was light, the water smooth, 
 the enemy not at all disposed to run away, the 
 fight certain, and the Sibylle under her topsails 
 jib and spanker, going two knots and a half, was 
 creeping up to begin the action, the three ships 
 being on the same tack as ourselves, but hove 
 to. — At twelve o'clock, when we ought to have 
 relieved the watch, and half of the ship's com- 
 pany gone to bed, we were employed in secur- 
 ing the yards, and getting ready for an action, 
 which was pretty sure to be very severe, and 
 at this time the Forte made no secret of her in- 
 tentions ; for she shewed a double tier of hghts 
 from her ports, and there she lay at quarters, 
 and ready to receive us. 
 
 " It was then, my lads, that had the Sibylle's 
 crew been disposed to shew them the white 
 feather, why they might have done it, and not 
 been much to blame ; there before her lay three 
 large ships, one known to be a superior force.
 
 J 36 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 and the other two looked nearly as large, — who 
 they were, or what they were, nobody knew 
 and very few cared. 
 
 '^ Shortly after midnight, the Forte filled 
 and tacked, being close upon our larboard bow, 
 and as her guns began to bear, she did us the fa- 
 vour, without asking who we were, to blaze away 
 upon us. — ^This is mighty civil, said the boats- 
 wain, for I was at one of the forecastle guns and 
 heard him; but we'll return the compliment 
 before long.— Well, there was every captain of a 
 gun blowing away at the match, and puffing out 
 his cheeks, as if he thought he could blow hard 
 enough to freshen the breeze aloft; but the 
 captain thought, the closer we got, the sooner it 
 might be_ over, called out, ' No firing until I 
 give the word/ 
 
 " ' Fore-castle there.' 
 
 " ' Sir,' said the officer at the quarters, there 
 was not a word spoken, and the Frenchmen 
 must have thought we were taking it coolly. 
 
 '^ ' Man the fore- top-masts tay-sail, halyards, 
 and splice the jib halyards,' they were shot 
 away, and down came the jib, — the Frenchman
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 137 
 
 had now passed our lee beam, when up went 
 the helm, and we passed close under her stern, 
 so close indeed, that we barely cleared his 
 spanker boom end, and we gave her such a 
 salute in the stern, that the carpenter would 
 have been employed for a week, in clapping in 
 new cabin windows. 
 
 '• In the meantime, one of the other ships 
 took shot at us, but nobody cared about her. 
 No sooner had we raked the Forte, than we came 
 short round on the larboard tack, ran up upon 
 her starboard broadside, and we ojave them 
 such another turn of round and grape, that 
 some of the crew began to talk about garlick. 
 It was now about half past twelve, and we got 
 at it fairly, broadside to broadside, and never 
 for one hour, were we a quarter of a mile apart, 
 hammering away as hard as we could, blazing 
 away from every gun, cheering like tars, and 
 getting the best of it, for the Frenchman fired 
 too high, — one shot came too low, for it mor- 
 tally wounded our captain, who was carried 
 below to linger and die, — whilst Mr. Hardyman
 
 138 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 took the command, and gave us a cheer to rally 
 us, 
 
 " About half past two, the Frenchman began 
 to think they had caught a Tartar, and after one 
 or two more rather badly directed broadside, 
 she ceased firing ; — upon this we stopped, for 
 who would fire upon a beaten enemy ? At this 
 time we were close alongside, the weather was 
 nearly calm, andwe heard the Frenchmen jabber- 
 ing away Hke a parcel of monkeys caught in a 
 cocoa-nut tree ; but when Hardy man called out 
 silence, fore and aft, you might have heard a pin 
 drop, on board of us. 
 
 " ' Frigate ahoy,' said he, giving her a hail, 
 which might have been heard at the sand- heads, 
 — but there was no answer, — all hands on board 
 the Frenchman were thinking of themselves 
 more than their ships. 
 
 " ^ Oh,' said Hardyman, ' if they can't hear 
 my voice, perhaps they can hear another broad- 
 side, so at it again my lads \ and at it again we 
 went, — all hands were certain that a little more 
 advice in the shape of shot, would bring them 
 to their senses, and we blazed away more
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 139 
 
 furiously than at first. They never returned 
 the fire, so we hailed again. 
 
 " * Avast firing, and silence on the main 
 deck,' Hardy man tried it again, and this time 
 he had a speaking trumpet, but still there was 
 no answer, although we heard their chattering 
 louder than before, and all of a sudden, up they 
 jumped aloft to make sail, and see what they 
 could do for themselves, in the way of escape. 
 
 " ' Loose top gallant sails, let run the fore clew 
 garnets, sail trimmers make sail, fire again on the 
 main deck,' said the noble fellow, who was as 
 cool as an ice island — ^ I have got you snug 
 enough, and it's my fault, if you get away.' 
 
 " On board the Frenchman they were all in 
 confusion, — ^and on board the Sibylle — we were 
 all steady, we had sail made upon us before the 
 Forte could loose her canvas — we saved the 
 mizen top men some trouble, for down came 
 the mizen mast, and before all the seamen had 
 come down from aloft, away went the fore and 
 mainmast and the bowsprit, and there a wreck 
 on the water was the frigate^ which had before 
 skimmed it — the terror of the trade. They
 
 140 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 heard our three cheers, for who could help it — 
 it was not the cheer of a bully, who had beaten 
 a weaker man, but it was a general feeling of 
 satisfaction that the business was done, and 
 was meant not to insult them, but to convey 
 our joy one to another — her colours came down 
 — the Forte was our prize. 
 
 " Hardyman — who was a thorough seaman, as 
 well as a gallant officer — instantly anchored, 
 and whilst Mr. Manyer, the third lieutenant 
 was getting a boat's crew ready to board the 
 Forte the order was given to clear the deck — 
 to repair tVie rigging, and get up new sails for 
 bending, for the other two ships, prizes to the 
 Forte, might yet give a little trouble, and we 
 had plenty before us ; the running, rigging, and 
 sails were shot to pieces, all the mast and yards 
 were badly wounded, and up aloft we were 
 severely mauled ; but so badly did these men, 
 who were to eat us without garlick, fire, that 
 we had only six round shots in our hull, and 
 although we had been hammering close along- 
 side of this large frigate for two hours and a half,
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 141 
 
 yet we had only five men killed, and fifteen 
 wounded. I just mention this, do you see, 
 Mortimer, that you, as a greenhorn, may know- 
 that it does not follow, because two ships are 
 alongside of each other hammering away for a 
 couple of hours, that a man must be either 
 killed or wounded ; and there is no necessity 
 to imitate the Irishman, who having seen a shot 
 come though the bulwark, run and clapped his 
 head in the hole, thinking, that although the 
 fire was so heavy, two shots could never come 
 through the same place. We managed a little 
 better, for after the capture we counted three 
 hundred round shot holes in the hull, and in 
 spite of the Frenchmen having Uned their sides 
 with cork, to prevent the spHnters, w^e managed 
 to kill sixty five of the mange sans ail gentle- 
 men, and to wound eighty out of three hundred 
 and seventy, which she had on board when she 
 tired her first shot. 
 
 " Well, when Mr. Manyer got on board, he 
 saw a sight enough to make a porcupine put 
 its quills down, the dead and the wounded were 
 lying about the decks,— the former almost cut
 
 142 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 to pieces, the latter moaning and groaning for 
 assistance, whilst their shipmates were down 
 below stowing away all the money they could 
 find in their pockets, and clapping two suits of 
 rigging over their masts heads, as they thought 
 they were bound for a cruize on a foreign sta- 
 tion, where they would find no dock yard to re- 
 place the expended stores, — The Frenchman 
 had lost his three lower masts — they fell with 
 all sail upon them ; — the bowsprit was lopped 
 off close to the figure head ; and never since 
 the time that Admiral Noah went to sea in the 
 ark, was there ever a ship afloat more like his 
 own, for he had neither mast nor sail to work 
 off the lee shore, where the land was good 
 enough to heave in sight. On the topsides of 
 the Frenchman you might have counted about 
 a thousand musket ball holes, which a party of 
 the Scotch brigade we had on board, managed 
 to bestow upon the enemy. These brave fellows 
 got blazing away from our quarter deck, and 
 going through the load and fire, as coolly as 
 if they had been on the top of the High-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 143 
 
 lands^ in their natural trousers on a frosty- 
 day. 
 
 " Is it not better, my new lads^ to serve 
 your king and your country — than to play- 
 pitch halfpenny with that old fox there ? And 
 as for you, Mortimer, who seem as if you 
 were half a sailor already, and had left your 
 love behind you, I think you will be a man 
 not afraid to look the devil in the face, 
 and one who will spin a yarn, as long as the 
 main top bowling, when you get a three cor- 
 nered scraper over your figure head, and 
 trudge about Greenwich in knee breeches 
 and blue stockings. Your love-making is 
 over now for a time : — you have chosen the 
 service for your future life ; — and this I tell 
 you, as an old bird now placed to catch the 
 young ones, that if a man does his duty 
 like a man, he will find his life pleasant 
 enough, if he is first on deck, and last below 
 at furling sail — always at muster — never shut- 
 ting an eye when on look out, — none of your 
 short hair and long teeth — not too fond of 
 grog — or his hammock, but able to do his
 
 144 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 duty aloft, and sing a song on the forecastle 
 — his captain won't overlook him — the first 
 lieutenant won't report him, and his country 
 won't forget him."
 
 THE SPITFIRE 145 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Arrow, before she arrived at Ports- 
 mouth, was boarded by the Doris, an English 
 frigate, which, being in want of men, helped 
 herself to those on board the Arrow, who had 
 been impressed; and thus Albert Mortimer, 
 began a foremast man, having the advice men- 
 tioned in the preceding chapter, pretty well 
 fixed upon his mind ; — he, however, did not 
 exactly relish his first reception. 
 
 " Come up here,'' said a midshipman, who 
 was standing over the side, " jump up, you 
 pressed men — toe a line along the deck ; take 
 off your hat, you Jemmy Jessamy chap ! (this 
 was Albert) why, you look as lightly rigged 
 as a barber's clerk on a Saturday night '.—don't 
 
 VOL. I. H"
 
 146 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 you hear me/' he continued, as he knocked the 
 hat off his head by force, " you had better hear 
 me, and mind me also, or I will prick your ears 
 with a crowbar/' 
 
 The blood of all the de Lancys got above 
 fever heat; but prudence cooled it down. 
 Luckily it did so, or the midshipman would have 
 been felled to the deck ; but as the blood and 
 the anger cooled, the time requisite for this 
 was not lost. 
 
 The men were placed in a line ; the first 
 lieutenant was apprised that they were ready 
 for inspection; and an examination began, in 
 order to discover if any of them had been at sea 
 before, and were calculated for top men without 
 a Httle preparation in the way of practice. As the 
 first lieutenant ran his eye down the hst sent 
 from the Arrow, he remarked — " There is one 
 volunteer amongst these men — Mortimer.'^ 
 
 *' I am Albert Mortimer," replied the young 
 man so addressed, his blood not being exactly 
 at temperate heat. 
 
 " Come here,'' said the first lieutenant, " is 
 that the way you have been taught to answer a
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 147 
 
 question ? take care what you are about — you 
 have entered into the service ?"* 
 
 " Yes," repUed Mortimer. 
 
 " Say ' Sir/ — and be d — d to you — 'when an 
 officer speaks to you." 
 
 There was a tear started into Mortimer's 
 eyes which his pride could not controul, and 
 with a more respectful manner, he answered — 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 "Now none of your shore going pranks again, 
 my lad; speak properly and I dare say we 
 shall agree pretty well. Here, Mr. Featherquill, 
 take care and enter this lad with the name, as a 
 volunteer." 
 
 " Were you ever at sea before ?'' 
 
 « No, Sir." 
 
 ^' How old are you ?" 
 
 " Nineteen, Sir." 
 
 " You'll do your duty in the mizen top ? 
 Here, Harrison," continued the first lieutenant, 
 calling the captain of the mizen top, " here's a 
 man for you in your watch; show him the 
 rigging, and practice him for an hour in running 
 up and down." 
 
 H 2
 
 148 THE SPITFIRE 
 
 ^* Come here, my lad," said Harrison, who 
 was a kind hearted fellow, " here's your walk up 
 and down this — never let go one hand, until 
 you have shifted the other — keep your eyes 
 down at first on the rattlines, and before we 
 pipe to grog, you will be able to go aloft." 
 
 It is the first lesson in life, which is most 
 difficult to learn. The infant's first totter on its 
 legs, the prelude to a walk, is often interrupted 
 by a falb; the first effort of the swimmer is often 
 the sure accompaniment of a mouthful of unso- 
 licited water ; and the first step upon the rigging 
 of a ship, is not eifected without danger, or 
 without dismay. But when confidence is 
 gained, the difficulty is overcome, and the sea- 
 man, in spite of the roughness of the sea or the 
 rolls of the ship, walks without fear up the 
 rigging, as perfectly secure as if on the quarter 
 deck. 
 
 Albert heard the titters of some, as, with 
 cautious grasp, he held the rattlines ', and as 
 he got further from the deck, his clutch became 
 firmer and firmer. But Albert was no coward ; 
 haying got to the puttock shrouds, and down
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 149 
 
 again without an accident, he recommenced his 
 career aloft, and very shortly found, if all his 
 tasks were as easily overcome, he shoxild shortly 
 be able to follow the advice given him by the 
 man who had entered him afloat. 
 
 His endeavours were not overlooked by the 
 first lieutenant, who, having watched him, as he 
 took his accustomed turns on the quarter deck, 
 called to him to come down — sent for the 
 purser's steward to fit him out as a sailor, and 
 as Harrison had foretold, the grog had not 
 been piped before he had been aloft, and got 
 over the first lesson. But when left to his own 
 reflections, bitterly did he regret the step he 
 had taken ; it had been done on the spur of 
 the moment ; and Mortimer had sense enough 
 to know he had humbled his mind as much as 
 his body, by consenting to herd with those so 
 much below him. 
 
 Amongst those who had been brought from 
 the Arrow, he stood foremost ; there was none 
 of that dogged determination to resist every 
 command, which was seen in the others ; but 
 knowing that he was alone to blame for the
 
 150 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 choice he had made, he cheerfully acquiesced in 
 all demands, and was resolved, at least for the 
 present, to do his duty in that station of life, 
 into which he had been pleased to place him- 
 self. 
 
 Before he had been long on board the Doris, 
 he had become a great favourite. The supe- 
 riority of his manner ; his being able to read 
 and write— -accomplishments not very general in 
 the navy in 1801 — gave him great advantage. 
 He, in time, wrote the letters of all his mess- 
 mates, and read them the answers ; by which 
 means he became well aware of their secret 
 histories; and from being useful in the first 
 instance, he became a kind of superior being 
 to whom they all looked up. But this was not 
 the life likely to be pleasant to one who could 
 not bear the yoke even of a brother. Neither 
 could he, as a seaman, follow up his inquiries 
 relative to Herbert, or discover the secret he 
 most wished to fathom. He was now fairly in 
 his brother's net. He found, from his mess- 
 mates, that greater difficulties existed in obtain- 
 ing his discharge than he imagined : he was
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 151 
 
 told he might see the shore, but never walk on 
 it ; in short, that under the delusion of the song 
 that seamen were free, he was in reality, a slave 
 in a prison, obliged to work, and unable to 
 escape, 
 
 Mortimer soon began to grow into a seaman ; 
 he took to it kindly; did his duty steadily; 
 and was more than once at the yard-arm in a 
 heavy squall. He had learned to pull an oar, 
 and belonged to one of the cutters; and 
 although apparently a contented man, was in 
 reality the contrary, and watching every oppor- 
 tunity to desert. 
 
 In the summer of 1801 the Doris joined 
 company with the BeauUeu and Uranie, two 
 frigates of near her size, and took up her station 
 off the point of St. Mathieu, to watch teh 
 French and Spanish fleet in Brest Harbour. 
 Days and nights were past in the same mono- 
 tonous employment; the enemy's fleet seemed 
 little disposed to go to sea — and the English 
 squadron as little disposed to lose sight of 
 them.
 
 152 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 In a squadron of this kind, of course there 
 existed no small emulation ; the different ma- 
 noeuvres were smartly executed, and amongst 
 those men who did their duty best, Mortimer 
 was one. 
 
 In July, a corvette was discovered at anchor 
 under the batteries, in Camaret Bay. She was 
 believed to be in a secure roadstead — rode to 
 her anchors with top gallant yards across — 
 showed her large ensign from her peak, and 
 seemed lulled into the belief that no attempt 
 could be made by the English squadron likely 
 to disturb her. 
 
 . To see her, was to covet her 5 and seamen 
 are not frightened by obstacles, which will cost 
 a little labour to remove. It was soon circulated 
 fore and aft the decks, that the captain had 
 resolved to cut out the French corvette, which 
 looked so trim and ready for sea; and soon 
 after the report was spread, the word was passed, 
 for those who chose to volunteer for that ser- 
 vice, to go on deck. It needed no boatswain's 
 mate to enforce the order; the quarter deck
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 153 
 
 was crowded in a minute; and every man 
 seemed to press forward, to offer his life in the 
 cause. 
 
 Amongst the foremost was Albert : he had 
 become a regular sailor ; he took off his hat, 
 smoothed down his hair, and requested leave 
 to go, saying he hoped the regular boat's crew 
 would have the preference. This however was 
 not strictly complied with ; but he was one 
 named for the service ; and having gained his 
 own point, he left the rest to succeed the best 
 way they could. Then came all the prepara- 
 tions for so desperate an undertaking ; for the 
 corvette, the English well knew, would be 
 placed in a posture of defence, and every pre- 
 caution taken to frustrate any attempt which 
 might be made upon her. 
 
 On the 20th of July, the boats of the Doris 
 and Beaulieu left their ships, equipped for a 
 desperate service ; and such was the ardour of 
 the men employed, that they strove one divi- 
 sion against the other, to near the corvette. 
 In this effort to be first, the regularity which 
 would better have been preserved by a little less 
 
 H 3
 
 154 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 enthusiasm, and a little more discretion, was 
 disturbed; the two divisions separated; and 
 those left behind, for some reason or other, 
 turned round, and pulled back again; whilst 
 those who had reached the entrance of the bay, 
 not willing to meet a certain defeat by pushing 
 alongside without the aid of their comrades, 
 lay upon their oars awaiting their arrival. 
 
 In this position they remained, until the first 
 streak of daylight warned them of the necessity 
 of returning ; for to attempt the attack without 
 the protection of darkness, was a madness none 
 contemplated. With many a bitter curse 
 against those who apparently had not done 
 their utmost to reach the bay, the oars were 
 again in motion — the boats discovered by the 
 corvette — and any advantage derivable from 
 a surprise, evidently lost. Much useless re- 
 crimination took place ; and Mortimer, whose 
 courage had been screwed to the sticking point, 
 was loud in his complaint against the officer 
 who had given the word to return, without first 
 endeavouring to regain his lost distance, and 
 advance to the attack.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 155 
 
 In the meantime, the Frenchmen were not 
 slow to profit by the discovery. The corvette, 
 about noon of the 21st5 weighed, and ran farther 
 in, under a strong battery, and there was moored. 
 Some soldiers were embarked, her quarters 
 were cleared, the guns loaded, almost to the 
 muzzles, and other precautions very gratifying 
 to those on board the corvette, and very 
 much the reverse to the attacking party, were 
 taken. 
 
 The more danger, the more honour ; the 
 greater the difficulty, the greater the merit. 
 The captain saw the corvette removed ; but 
 it did not for a second alter their determina- 
 tion ', on the contrary, when the corvette in 
 all pride of security, by way of laughing at her 
 enemies, hoisted an English ensign under a 
 French one, the crew of the Doris gave three 
 cheers, and became the more anxious to try 
 their strength; nor did they care one straw 
 for the additional force, in the shape of a large 
 gun boat, which was placed at the entrance of 
 the bay, to give timely notice of the approach, 
 or the turning and twisting of the rammers, as
 
 156 THS smnRE. 
 
 the French artillery prepared the guns of the 
 battery. The daik was anxiously expected, 
 and when half past nine came, the crew were in 
 llie boats, without awaiting the usual sum- 
 mons. 
 
 Again under the same leader, they left their 
 ships ; and with hearts and hands ready, and 
 wiDii^ they approached the bay with more 
 regularity than the preceding night. They 
 mustered fifteen boats in all, containing two 
 hundred and eighty officers and men, — ^the 
 Robust, a serenty four, haTing added her barge 
 and pinnace to the boats of the firigates. 
 
 On leaTing the shore, a boat was discovered ; 
 and the conmiander of the expedition, judging 
 it proper to secure it, went himself with five 
 others in chase, leaTuig the rest to await 
 his return, or slowly to progress towards 
 the corrette, as they had still a distance of six 
 miles to pull, before they arrived alongside of 
 the enemy. 
 
 Some time elapsed, and the commanding 
 officer did not return. The next in command, 
 Mr. M^ - .- who was a lieutenant of the
 
 THZ spnriKB. 157 
 
 BeanlieQ, thought it just as well to get doae in 
 shore, in dvder to be ready for an attad^ when 
 theooomiandiiigofficershoiildietiim. The force 
 was diminished to one hundred and eighty men ; 
 but neTer were there more resolute hearts, than 
 in those boats ; and not one sorpaaaed Albert, 
 who^ to the common brute comage mheroit 
 in most men. joined the honoiuUe fefBiigs of 
 a man of high family. Hiere was no chfmng ; 
 tins was a business of silence and secrecy, to 
 creep upon the enemy unawares, and to captare 
 the Tesae^ without bloodshed, by a sorpnae. 
 As the muffled oars dipped, silently in tiie 
 water, and the boats as sikndy mppraadaed the 
 object of attai^ many and many woe the eyes 
 which were nadessly tamed iu the direction of 
 the other boats, the crews of which woaldhaie 
 so matmally assisted id tibe entcrpdse ; but it 
 was all in vain ; the night was ^ spent, the 
 c or v ett e lay at anchor not a mile trom the 
 boats, which now rested on their oars; aodin 
 that half hour of suspense came a& the icAee- 
 tion, or the danger — ^Albert was diere unknown 
 as a gentleman — the brodier of the de Lancy
 
 158 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 might be killed and thrown overboard with- 
 out one word ever reaching that unnatural 
 brother to whisper his security. 
 
 Not a word was spoken, the seamen, as they 
 rested on their oars, listened with intense 
 anxiety to catch the sound of an oar ; but time 
 gradually elapsed ; it was past midnight ; and it 
 wanted not more than two hours and a half 
 to day break. To delay was useless ; to return 
 foreign to the wishes of every man in the 
 boats. The disparity of force was alarming ; 
 the determination of the men cheering* 
 
 Maxwell now called the boats close together, 
 and gave his instructions. It was a great risk 
 for this officer to run ; but he was confident of 
 success. He knew the character of British 
 seamen, and began his short address in the 
 manner most likely to animate them. 
 
 " The more danger, my lads," said he, " the 
 more honour ! — We must go on without the 
 other boats. Thomson, Wilkinson, and Her- 
 vey — you are smart fore topmen on board your 
 own ship, let us see how quick you can be in 
 loosing the corvette's fore- top-sail — you need
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 159 
 
 not be nice in casting off the gaskett — a sharp 
 knife and an easy conscience, is what you most 
 require ; — now do you hear, you three fellows — 
 don't stand talking to those Frenchmen on the 
 forecastle, we^ll make them comfortable ; your 
 duty is on the foretop-sail yard ; — but let's see, 
 we must pick out another.'' 
 
 "Allow me, Sir," said Albert, " to volunteer, 
 I dare say I shan't be behind hand." 
 
 " Well said," rephed Maxwell 5 "what ship 
 do you belong to ?" 
 
 " The Doris," replied Albert. 
 " I shan't forget you, my lad ; — what's your 
 name ?'* 
 
 " Mortimer, Sir." 
 
 " A devilish good name too ; now listen, in 
 the Beaulieu boats, you are to board on the 
 starboard bow. — Neville," he continued, address- 
 ing the officer, who commanded the Uranie's 
 boats," you, with your own ship's boats, the one 
 from the Robust, and the remaining one of the 
 Doris, will board on the larboard bow ; and 
 Burke," said he, ^' you must make up in your 
 boat for the loss of the other five, belonging to
 
 J 60 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 your ship, which seems to have taken a long 
 time to chase one boat ; — mind, two of your men 
 will cut the cables — there's no use for any long 
 winded yarn about this business. There she is, 
 at present a French corvette, I am in hopes 
 before two o'clock, she will be clear of the 
 anchorage, with an English commanding officer 
 — ^get into your stations in two divisions, and 
 stand by, directly we are discovered, to give 
 way like British seamen^, who are resolved to 
 succeed in the enterprise.'' 
 
 The boats soon backed into their stations ; 
 and the word being given to give way, lustily, 
 but quietly, the gallant fellows advanced to the 
 attack. 
 
 It was a little after one o'clock, when the 
 corvette was distinguished. The French, who 
 expected the attack, had been equally vigilant ; 
 every preparation had been made ; three hun- 
 dred and thirty nine men were on board 
 of her ; the guns had been loaded to the muz- 
 zles ; and the confidence that they could protect 
 their vessel from every boat attack, was general 
 throughout the crew and the soldiers on board
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 161 
 
 of her. They now saw the enemy advancing, 
 and prepared to give them a warm reception. 
 As a matter of caution — not that any doubt 
 existed in the mind of the commander of the 
 corvette, as to the hostile intentions of the 
 boats— he hailed them. It was answered by 
 Maxwell, caUing out to his brave companions 
 — " Now then, my lads 1" then dashed the 
 oars in the water. The silence was broken by 
 the cheers, which were heard far from the scene 
 of action, whilst the animating words from 
 each officer, as they said — " Give way, my jolly 
 dogs ! — hurrah for the first on board !" — was 
 all that was requisite, to make every man feel 
 the importance of his best endeavours ; and it 
 seemed as if all hearts had felt the appeal ; for 
 each boat's crew, no longer tenacious about a 
 discovery, bent their backs, and gave way with 
 all their strength. 
 
 No sooner was this done, than the contents 
 of a broadside came in amongst them. The 
 grape and canister shot fell like hail around 
 them ; — and the water was dashed into the 
 boats by the round shot which came bounding
 
 162 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 along, duck and drake fashion. This discharge, 
 enough to have checked the advance of any 
 foe, was received with a loud cheer — " Now's 
 your time, lads, to get onboard before they can 
 load again ; give way," said Maxwell, as he stood 
 up in his boat, and the words were re-echoed 
 by Neville and Burke, who imitating their 
 leader, stood up and cheered their men. 
 
 In the meantime, the French soldiers opened 
 a steady well directed fire, with musketry from 
 the shore; whilst the troops, who had been 
 embarked, were not slow to imitate so good an 
 example. Between each shot might be heard — 
 " give way — give way,'^ — whilst the loud dash 
 of the oars was heard on board the corvette. 
 
 Each boat pulled to the station allotted her ; 
 and the crews made one simultaneous rush 
 to board. — The French, armed at all points, 
 presented a bristling front of boarding pikes, 
 backed up by the small arm men, whilst those 
 armed with tomahawks slashed away bravely to 
 defend their ship. 
 
 Every exertion was made to overcome this 
 resistance; but without eiTect. The boats'
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 163 
 
 crews were driven back in spite of their cling- 
 ing like cats to the ropes, and fighting like 
 devils to gain the decks ; whilst the French, 
 who saw the first attempt of their enemies 
 checked, gave a cheer of defiance, and actually 
 boarded the boats. Never, since man to man 
 coped in single warfare, was more desperate 
 bravery exhibited on both sides. The French- 
 men, who had so gallantly followed up their 
 success, never returned to their ship ; — a strug- 
 gle ensued — and the intruders were thrown 
 overboard. 
 
 The fire arms of the English were now per- 
 fectly useless, and abandoned; but, with their 
 cutlasses only, they again endeavoured to board 
 — again the Frenchmen bravely opposed them. 
 But the assailant is ever more desperate than 
 the assailed. Undaunted by the furious fire 
 from shore and ship — undismayed by the fo- 
 rest of pikes which bristled round her bows — 
 unappalled by the frequent death-wounds dealt 
 with savage ferocity from the boarding pikes, 
 the British seamen, unused to a reverse, again 
 and again made the desperate assault, and
 
 164 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 finally established a landing on the forecas- 
 tle. 
 
 '^ Hurrah for the first aloft," was heard from 
 Mortimer^ who, sweeping his cutlass to clear 
 his way. jumped upon the rigging, dropped his 
 cutlass on the deck^ and springing aloft, was 
 soon about to lay out on the fore-top sail yard. 
 Here he found another precaution had been 
 taken. All the gear was stopped up along the 
 yard : — a second, the sharp knife remedied 
 that advantage ; — the foot rope fell ; he was 
 the first on the yard ! — nay, so expeditiously 
 was this effected, and so well did the seamen 
 stationed to loose the sail obey their orders, 
 that in the small space of three minutes, from 
 the gaining the first footing on deck^ the French 
 corvette^ known as the Chevrette, had her three 
 topsails and courses cut adrift, and the sails 
 hung down for sheeting home. 
 
 The noise of the falling sails sounded more 
 dreadful in the ears of the French than the 
 rattling of small arms, or the clash of the toma- 
 hawks. They felt they were prisoners ; for 
 they knew, that once removed from the batter-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 165 
 
 ies, they had no confidence to bear up against 
 their assailants. The first tremor of fear, which 
 was manifested by one of the crew of the 
 Chevrette jumping overboard, run Hke an elec- 
 tric spark through all the rest. They threw 
 down their arms ; aud jumping overboard, en- 
 deavoured to reach the shore; whilst the 
 sight of the canvas animated the English, who 
 rushed toward the quarter deck, and notwith- 
 standing the gallant opposition of some, who 
 disdained to fly, succeeded in capturing it. 
 
 The French still hoped to retrieve their 
 disgrace. From the main deck, they opened 
 an harassing fire of musketry; — but the cables 
 were cut — the ship under canvas — an English 
 seaman, named Henry WaUis, was at the helm, 
 and in spite of his wounds, he stood true to his 
 post, and was the first to call out with a steady 
 voice — " She goes a head now. Sir, for she 
 answers her helm." Then was the cheer of 
 victory heard ! — and those below, who still 
 vainly clung to a last hope, finding that hope 
 gone, surrendered and ceased firing. 
 
 The firing from the shore, which was now
 
 166 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 confined to the large guns, put down the light 
 air of wind which was favouring the prize, and 
 she now became much harassed by the batteries 
 —but she was a prize, and little did the crews 
 of the different boats heed the Turkish salutes 
 which came well directed toward them. 
 
 On the forecastle was John Brown, the 
 boatswain of the Beaulieu ; he had escaped by 
 a miracle ; — the boat in which he had been 
 placed, finding how desperate the case was for- 
 ward on the first of attack, dropped under the 
 quarter, and Brown led the way to board, 
 establishing a landing in the quarter gallery ; 
 but here all progress was impeded — the door 
 had been barricaded up, and the boatswain 
 kicked in vain, until finding all attempts fruit- 
 less, he clambered up to the taffrail, and got 
 upon the quarter deck ; — at this moment, he saw 
 the landing was made good in the forecastle, and 
 he knew that a boatswain's station was there. 
 Sweeping his cutlass round his head, he roared 
 out — ^' Make a line there, you d — d parlez- 
 vous,'^ and rushing forward, succeeded in gain- 
 ing his station. He then took his " call out,"
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 167 
 
 and at every order, gave the regular pipe, as 
 if he had been on board his own ship — the 
 Beaulieu. 
 
 As the shot came fast, and Wallis was se- 
 verely wounded, Maxwell called another man 
 to come to the helm ; but the answer came 
 from Albert, who standing close to the quarter 
 master said, " I can assist him, Sir/^ Again a 
 light breeze sprung up — the sails were trimmed 
 — the Chevrette was fast drawing from the land, 
 when the six boats, which had been absent, 
 returned, and Maxwell relinquished the com- 
 mand. 
 
 Great was the satisfaction of the different 
 captains at the result of this gallant enterprise ; 
 warmly indeed were the seamen welcomed by 
 their messmates ; and many were the tears shed 
 over their fallen friends. The slaughter had 
 been proportionate to the resistance ! — eleven 
 had been killed — and fifty seven wounded ; — 
 whilst on board of the Chevrette eighty five 
 had been killed, and fifty seven wounded. 
 
 When the excitement was over, the victory 
 won, the prize secure — Albert looked at the
 
 168 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 deck, covered with the dead, with horror and 
 dismay ; he pondered over the immense sacri- 
 fice of human Hfe for so trivial an object ; and 
 as he deeply regretted those who had fallen, he 
 overlooked the advantages of such gallant un- 
 dertakings in the fear which they strike into a 
 whole nation, and make them feel the supe- 
 riority of their enemies ! but it was his first sight 
 of the dead 1 — there, horribly disfigured, lay 
 corpse upon corpse; whilst the decks more 
 resembled a human butchery, than a place for a 
 christian to command. From this reverie, and 
 from the determination which he formed to 
 leave a service which even glory could not 
 render palatable, he was awakened by Maxwell 
 pointing him out to the commanding officer, as 
 a man worthy of promotion, and requesting 
 that Albert Mortimer might be mentioned to 
 Captain Brisbane, as one deserving his best 
 notice. This gratified his vanity ; but he still 
 observed a guarded silence and respectful man- 
 ner, as he inwardly cursed the hour in which 
 he was prompted to relinquish his better pros- 
 pects, to run headlong into a service, which
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 169 
 
 might have been his greatest ambition as an 
 officer — but which was degrading to him as a 
 common seaman. 
 
 The great, the brilUant exploit, above men- 
 tioned, found praise from every Up. It was a 
 daring, well planned, well executed attack, and 
 only inferior to the cutting out of the Her- 
 mione. Albert had embarked in stirrino: 
 times ', Nelson's fame was high ; the navy was 
 the bulwark of the nation ; every action worthy 
 of record, found a poet ready to embrace its 
 fame ; the song passed from ship to ship, from 
 forecastle, to forecastle ; and when the thorough 
 bred seamen talked over their fun on shore, and 
 twisted the long yarn of strange adventures on 
 a Saturday night, — then it was, that the song 
 went round, in which the great deeds of our 
 profession were recorded, and the young, and 
 the old — the grave and the gay^caught an 
 enthusiasm from the words, and felt anxious to 
 try their powers against the inveterate enemy 
 of Great Britain. 
 
 Albert's mind, although touched with sorrow, 
 felt the inward glow of satisfaction at having 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 done his duty ; but his was an educated mind, 
 and he burned to have the praise given to him- 
 self, and not shared by those who were sleeping 
 in their hammocks ; neither did he feel the 
 more gratified when he saw the offi cers promot- 
 ed — ^justly promoted, he admitted — and he him- 
 self overlooked, because he was too young a 
 seaman to occupy even an able seaman's rating. 
 The Doris, shortly after, took a cruize in the 
 Bay of Biscay. Some few merchantmen were 
 captured; but no action occurred worthy of 
 record. The ship, after the time had expired, 
 or which she had been ordered to cruize, re- 
 turned to Plymouth sound, in order to undergo 
 a refit, preparatory to her sailing for the West 
 India station.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. I7I 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sir Ronald de Lancy returned to Raven 
 Castle, after an absence of a month. His mar- 
 riage as yet, had not been unhappy : he saw, with 
 a certain degree of satisfaction, that his wife had 
 cast aside all Httle marks of the attorney's 
 daughter, and strutted about in the gaudy 
 plumage she had assumed, as if such feathers 
 had been her natural clothing; — neither had 
 she shown any particular burst of temper — the 
 worst presage of matrimonial inquietude. If, 
 on the one hand, she had given no cause of 
 offence, she had not, on the other, manifested 
 any ardent love ; she seemed to consider her- 
 self as one so highly situated, that any approach 
 to conspicuous affection, would be beneath her. 
 It was all very well for paupers to be in love ; 
 
 I 2
 
 172 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 but in her lofty situation, a preference was only 
 required; the famiharity of lovers was in no 
 way consonant to her pride. She was the 
 partner of him, who possessed Raven Castle ; 
 and such ladies should not feel what human 
 nature has too bountifully bestowed on all. 
 
 Sir Ronald regarded her with great suspicion ; 
 he had been forced into the match to save his 
 title and his money ; and although the original 
 will had been given to him, and he had destroy- 
 ed it, he still felt that he was within the grasp 
 of Rawlinson, from which he could not extricate 
 himself. He had never manifested any light 
 disposition to cheer a solitary hour; he never 
 much relished conversation; — he was naturally 
 taciturn ; — habitually a bookworm ; — and the 
 honey-moon, which some lovers spend in a 
 manner most likely to weary both parties into 
 indifference, was, by this pair, spent in amuse- 
 ments more calculated to ensure happiness. 
 Sir Ronald read, and was amused; Lady de 
 Lancy worked, and was satisfied. — Sir Ronald 
 kept his thoughts within his own heart; Mar- 
 garet, accustomed to be alone, never felt the
 
 THE SPITFIRE. l73 
 
 silence as contempt; but busied herself in 
 erecting those airy edifices, called " castles in 
 the air/' which best suited her imagination. 
 
 The return to Raven Castle would have led 
 a stranger to believe that the parties had been 
 married many years, and were fashionably in- 
 different to each other. Sir Ronald took pos- 
 session of his library ; and Rawlinson and Mar- 
 garet seemed to have erected a kingdom in the 
 drawing room. Rawlinson was a constant 
 companion at dinner ; he treated his son-in-law 
 with every marked respect before his servants 
 and with vulgar familiarity when alone. There 
 was no step on the ladder of iniquity down 
 which Rawlinson had not stepped ; he had 
 now consummated^ the last act, by making 
 his daughter the wife of a man who, he 
 well knew, was intentionally a murderer ; and 
 having so done, he thought it right to tell her 
 the position in which she was placed, and to 
 warn her that a rival to the title and fortune 
 was alive ; and, as Sir Ronald was the creature 
 formed from his breath, so his breath could 
 destroy him. His object in this was to share
 
 l?-* THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 the fortune to a certain extent ; and to withdravr 
 the de Lancys, as much as possible, from the 
 public. 
 
 Laura Mackenzie was, by Rawhnson, consi- 
 dered as a silly girl, just old enough to be a 
 companion, and not Hkely to disturb the 
 harmony of his plot, by any prying curiosifcy 
 in family society. Thus affairs progressed for 
 three months after their return ; no one seemed 
 to inquire after, or court the new Lady de Lan- 
 cy; the Molesworths most scrupulously avoid- 
 ed them ; and the only inmate she had, who had 
 just arrived, was Laura Mackenzie. 
 
 Sir Ronald was a magistrate ; but seldom or 
 ever was he called upon to act. Around his 
 estate was a peaceful neighbourhood, so far out 
 of the track of travelling vagabonds, that they 
 were not initiated into the secrets of villainy. 
 They lived quiet and unmolested ; and scarcely 
 had any mystery been unveiled or hidden, until 
 the sudden disappearance of old Herbert. 
 
 The answer to all inquiries had been, that 
 Sir Ronald had discharged Herbert; and that 
 he had left the place on the night of the dis-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 175 
 
 charge ; but no one knew where he had gone. 
 Some old cottagers, with whom Herbert had 
 spent many evenings, had suspicions concerning 
 their friend : they knew his heart too good to 
 leave those he had known so long, without one 
 adieu ; — and, as a secluded place, like the neigh- 
 bourhood around Raven Castle had seldom a 
 novelty to attract attention, or a circumstance 
 to excite suspicion, this hasty withdrawal of 
 one, who had been from his youth upwards 
 their companion and friend, seemed to loosen 
 the tongues of all the old women and the gos- 
 sips — and various conjectures soon got afloat. 
 
 " I tell you,'* said one old woman, Mary Lan- 
 cing, to her husband, " Herbert never passed our 
 door when he left the castle. I have heard him 
 say, he knew more than he dared to tell ; and I 
 am sure and certain, the great squire has got him 
 shut up in one of his towers ; or he is down 
 there," she said, pointing to the earth, " and 
 some one would be afraid to touch the corpse." 
 
 " I've often a thought about it, dame," replied 
 her husband, *• and I can't but think Joe 
 Blackburn knows more of it, than the King of
 
 176 THE SPITFIRF. 
 
 England ; and, as sure as I live to see to-mor- 
 row, I'll go to Mr. Molesworth, and if there is 
 any truth in the business, that good man will 
 ferret it out. They seem to keep the thing 
 quite hushed at the castle ; and it is said that 
 still water is the deepest." 
 
 True to his intention, on the following morn- 
 ing, old Lancing called at the vicarage. Mr. 
 Molesworth never denied himself to his parish- 
 ioners ; he looked to heal all their animosities, 
 and, as far as this earth, or the spot he inhabited, 
 could be made a paradise, he had the gratifica- 
 tion of seeing around him a peaceful and in- 
 dustrious population. 
 
 " Tell old Lancing to come in,'^ he said ; — 
 " it is the first visit I have ever had from him. 
 Poor fellow! — he is getting fast on towards 
 seventy ; and I suppose requires a little assist- 
 ance.^' 
 
 Old Lancing came in, and stood about a foot 
 from the door, bowing, and plastering the rem- 
 nants of a fine head of hair over his forehead 
 — ^but he did not speak a word. 
 
 " Well, Lancing," said Mr. Molesworth,
 
 THK SPITFIRE. l77 
 
 " what is the matter with you ? — what has 
 happened ? come, speak out — and, as far as I 
 can assist you, I will/* 
 
 " Thank your reverence,^' began old Lan- 
 cing — it is nothing that has happened to me or 
 mine — blessings on you. Sir ! — we do as well as 
 we could wish ; and I want no assistance 
 whatever/' 
 
 " Well then, Lancing, what is the object of 
 your visit ?'* 
 
 '^ Old Herbert," — repHed the countryman. 
 
 " What of him ? — I know he has been dis- 
 charged; — do you wish me to speak to Sir 
 Ronald to reinstate him ?'* 
 
 " From the day that he was discharged, as 
 you say, your reverence, no man in or out of 
 the castle has seen him. He never came to 
 visit any one of us— we, with whom he had 
 lived as a brother, and to whose children he 
 had been as a father ; — we know he could not 
 have passed the house, without calling to say 
 he was going for ever — and we think" — 
 
 " What do you think ?" interrupted Mr. 
 Molesworth. 
 
 i3
 
 17S THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " Why, Sir, I axes your pardon, for being so 
 bold as to think before your reverence, but my 
 wife and myself, two poor old bodies, bred and 
 born on the estate, think that'^ — 
 
 '^ Well, go on, my good fellow, it is impossi- 
 ble I can know what you think, without you 
 tell me." 
 
 " That old Herbert is there,'' said Lancing, 
 pointing to the ground — " and that no clergy- 
 man read the service over him/' 
 
 Mr. Molesworth started from his chair, and 
 
 advancing near to Lancing, who stood firm 
 
 like an honest old Englishman conscious of no 
 
 wrong, he said in a low voice—" Do you believe 
 
 him dead ?" 
 
 " Aye,'' said Lancing, nodding his head 
 — " and the Lord have mercy on him 1" — 
 
 " Amen,'' — ejaculated Mr. Molesworth, ap- 
 parently unconscious of what he uttered ; then 
 recollecting himself, he continued — "Come away 
 from the door. Lancing — come near to me — 
 now tell me, have you ever inquired for 
 him ?'* 
 
 " Often — often, your reverence — every day
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 179 
 
 we have asked — but the answer we get, and 
 which we think is true, is — that he is 
 gone." 
 
 " It certainly is strange — very strange. Did 
 he go before the wedding ?'' 
 
 " Yes, your reverence : for Master Albert 
 inquired of us all, if we knew where he lived, 
 or where he was born — if we had ever heard 
 him speak of friends otherwise than of those 
 around him ; and this was before Sir Ronald 
 married.^* 
 
 '^ But what suspicion have you, that he came 
 by his death unfairly — even if he should be 
 dead ?'^ 
 
 '^ None much, your reverence — excepting 
 that Joe Blackburn was seen with a pocket 
 handkercliief covered with blood, which my 
 wife wiU swear belonged to Herbert, and when 
 he was asked about it, he turned colour like, 
 and said he bought it— and though I know its 
 wrong to say a word against any one, yet as sure 
 as the rain fell this morning — Joe's the worst 
 man in the parish." 
 
 '^ Well — well. Lancing, I will consider what
 
 180 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 is best to be done. In the meantime, you can 
 inquire of the servants at the castle, who saw 
 him last — and if he removed his clothes — and 
 I will do what is right to fathom this mystery." 
 " We are poor people, your reverence, and 
 we hope, honest people ; — if by and bye, it 
 should be found out that poor Herbert came 
 by his death unfairly — we should be suspected. 
 God knows I should be very loth to say, Joe did 
 it ! for after all, Herbert may be alive ; — but its 
 our duty to our neighbour. Sir, as you teach us, 
 to let the guilt fall on the guilty .'' 
 
 " Good bye, Lancing/' said Mr. Molesworth 
 stopping his volubility ; " leave it to me — ^I will 
 call to-morrow upon Sir Ronald, and I dare say 
 we shall find Herbert alive — and well, in some 
 other country." 
 
 The morrow came ; and the unexpected,the 
 unwelcome tidings reached Sir Ronald, that 
 Mr. Molesworth requested to see him. The 
 guilty ever feel, with painful emotion, the scru- 
 tiny of the virtuous ; and the very summons 
 seemed to beat against his heart as much as 
 to say " I will lay you bare.'' 
 
 Sir Ronald received Mr. Molesworth in the
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 181 
 
 library, and with the easy grace of one doing 
 or about to do a good action, the upright pil- 
 lar of the church entered the room. He ap- 
 peared to disregard the cold manner in which 
 Sir Ronald received his proflfered hand; and 
 with the air of a man accustomed to the 
 world's deceitful ways, he sat down on the 
 chair to which Sir Ronald, without saying 
 a word, pointed. 
 
 " My business, which has caused this in- 
 trusion. Sir Ronald,^^ said he, " relates to 
 yourself in your magisterial capacity. He who 
 is the representative of the law is, of course, 
 always accessible. I mention this, to account 
 for my visit, which, otherwise, as I am aware 
 my presence is not requested, might seem a 
 presumption." 
 
 " Pardon me," interrupted Sir Ronald, his 
 deep voice and slow articulation giving the full 
 value to every word. " Men of your profes- 
 sion are privileged 3 in every House the door 
 should be opened, and the presence of the 
 clergyman, a welcome ; and much I regret that 
 Mr. Molesworth has denied me the pleasure
 
 182 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 of his company as a friend — to which I am 
 now indebted as a duty. I trust your family 
 are well ?" 
 
 There was a faltering in the last few words, 
 which would have given a stranger a doubt 
 as to the sincerity of the questioner — or, to 
 those who deal much with the wary, would 
 have been known as a subterfuge to avoid the 
 business on which he was about to act. 
 Mr. Molesworth made a suitable reply; and 
 after a few such remarks as are generally 
 made to pave the way, and which show how 
 uneasy both may feel in each other^s society, 
 Mr. Molesworth, having prefaced his speech 
 by acknowledging the dehcacy of the subject 
 as it referred to Sir Ronald's establishment, 
 came direct to the point, and asked if Sir 
 Ronald had heard any tidings of Herbert 
 since his discharge, as some suspicion existed, 
 in the parish, against a man named Blackburn, 
 of indifferent character, and who was suspected 
 of having murdered him ? 
 
 It is true, that Rawlinson had said, that 
 Herbert was in Cornwall, but Sir Ronald
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 185 
 
 never credited it ; it was next to an impossi- 
 bility that the old man could have escaped ; and 
 all the guilt of the transaction beat loudly 
 against his heart. Still, so well had he schooled 
 himself, that no flush of fear flew across his 
 countenance — neither did his lips blanch with 
 apprehension. With his usual distinctness of 
 pronunciation, he said that Herbert was alive 
 and in Cornwall, and that he wondered a man 
 of Mr. Molesworth's sagacity should listen to 
 the tittle-tattle of old women, who, because 
 they had met with a little ingratitude, so 
 common to us all, imagined that their friend 
 must have been murdered. 
 
 " Your remark," said Mr. Molesworth, " to 
 a certain extent, is true ; but rumour, once 
 afloat, is not easily stilled. The old people 
 declare he never passed their cottage. There 
 is this handkerchief of Herbert's yet unac- 
 counted for; and your own servants declare 
 that all his clothes remain, at this moment, 
 untouched in his room. You must admit 
 that it has a suspicious appearance, that an 
 old man who was known not to be rich, should
 
 184 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 neglect to return for his clothes; that not 
 one of his fellow-servants should ever have 
 heard of him ; that his wife's family should 
 be in ignorance of his existence. This all 
 tended to excite suspicion, and, suspicion when 
 excited, is not easily satisfied. I think. Sir 
 Ronald — I speak it with great deference to 
 your better judgment — that if Blackburn was 
 apprehended and made to give some account 
 of this property — for he might have waylaid 
 him after he had left the castle — that the 
 inquiry would satisfy the tenantry, and no 
 harm could come from the public avowal, 
 made by yourself, that you knew of his ex- 
 istence." 
 
 " My time, Mr. Molesworth, is much occu- 
 pied ; but if the inquiry will give you any 
 satisfaction, I cannot object." Sir Ronald 
 rang the bell, and desired one of his servants, 
 who acted occasionally as constable, to bring 
 Blackburn before him. Mr. Molesworth 
 begged he might not interrupt Sir Ronald, 
 whose kindness, perhaps, would permit him 
 in the interval to amuse himself by rummaging
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 185 
 
 the library, known to contain some old 
 and valuable books. Sir Ronald nodded 
 assent. 
 
 Far different were the thoughts and feel- 
 ings of those two men. Sir Ronald was re- 
 solving in his mind to fix the murder, if Her- 
 bert was dead, upon Blackburn. He was 
 fortifying himself to meet every remark with 
 a calm unmoved countenance — to appear open 
 and manly — to court investigation — and to 
 impress upon the mind of his reverend visi- 
 tor, that no one regarded the suspected loss 
 of his old servant more than himself. At 
 this time Rawlinson was absent in London ; 
 and consequently. Sir Ronald was unable to 
 get the information confirmed, which he dis- 
 credited, as to the existence of old Herbert. 
 To Sir Ronald, the confirmation of the death 
 would have been most pleasant intelligence, 
 but he felt the impossibility of such evidence 
 being produced ; and this rendered his school- 
 ing himself less difiicult. 
 
 Mr. Molesworth, unwilling to pry even into 
 the studies of Sir Ronald, took down the first
 
 186 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 book which met his eye, and seating himself 
 by the table, read some pages of the history 
 of France, and continued at this avocation 
 until the arrival of the servant, who acted as 
 constable, with the much belied Joe Black- 
 burn. 
 
 If anything could have strengthened sus- 
 picion against the miserable object now placed 
 in jeopardy, it was his villainous look. His 
 eyes were small and far apart, giving to a 
 bad countenance a cunning appearance; his 
 forehead was low, the toj) of the head flat, 
 and the hinder part large ; the organ of de- 
 stnictiveness was highly developed, and modern 
 craniologists would have pronounced him a 
 villain without examining any case of which 
 he was suspected. Joe was a tall man, ex* 
 ceedingly well put together, and one which a 
 prudent man would have avoided on a dark 
 night in a narrow lane. Joe put on an air of 
 childish innocence. He flattened the hair 
 do-v^Ti over his flat forehead ; and then twisting 
 his hat about, and looking at the band and 
 playing with the ribbon, he got his feet into
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 187 
 
 a comfortable position to support his weight, 
 and looking up at Sir Ronald, gave so search- 
 ing a glance, that even the magistrate felt a 
 sensation which tingled all over him. 
 
 " Blackburn,'^ commenced Sir Ronald, 
 " suspicion has been excited against you; — it 
 appears you are possessed of a handkerchief, 
 known to belong — or to have belonged — ^to 
 my old trusty servant, Herbert, who has dis- 
 appeared from amongst us in a most myste- 
 rious manner. It is true, I discharged him 
 from my service, and that would account for 
 his having left the castle; but you know," 
 continued the magistrate, " as well as I know, 
 that since his discharge, he has never been 
 seen. What do you know about this busi- 
 ness ?" 
 
 " I know no more of the matter, Sir Ro- 
 nald, your worship, than you do. Perhaps," 
 he continued, as his cunning eyes met 
 those of the Baronet, " not quite so much.'^ 
 
 A slight flush gave to the sickly coun- 
 tenance of Sir Ronald an appearance of mo-
 
 188 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 mentary health — it was dissipated in a moment, 
 and he continued : 
 
 " Blackburn, you know that I have never 
 entertained any suspicion against any man 
 in the. parish. Neither do I suspect you. But 
 it is requisite that you should give an account 
 of that handkerchief, which 1 believe you your- 
 self have admitted to have been the property 
 of Herbert." 
 
 " I have no objection. Sir Ronald, not in 
 the least, to tell you and Mr. Molesworth 
 how I came by the handkerchief. It was a few 
 days, or rather nights, before your honour 
 was married, that I was out late, towards 
 the Raven CliiF, looking at a light which 
 was on board a vessel some distance at 
 sea " 
 
 " Stop — stop,^' said Sir Ronald, with marked 
 impatience, " we don't want to hear of your 
 midnight walks, or suspicions of smugglers.'^ 
 
 " No, your honour,^' interrupted Blackburn, 
 as his eyes twinkled with animation ; " I did 
 not say it was midnight; it was not eight
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 189 
 
 o'clock — the second bell had not rung when 
 I saw Herbert and another man walk towards 
 the cliff." 
 
 " What can this long and uninteresting 
 story have to do with the handkerchief? 
 How did you get the handkerchief, Sir ? Con- 
 fine yourself to answering that question." 
 
 " Blackburn," interrupted Mr. Molesworth, 
 " I am sure neither Sir Ronald nor myself 
 would attempt to fix a murder upon you, or 
 to hint that you were concerned in any way in 
 disposing of poor old Herbert. He might 
 have betaken himself to some other county, 
 not wishing to displease Sir Ronald by hover- 
 ing about the estate after his discharge, and, 
 for aught we know, may at this moment be 
 alive and well; but the circumstance of your 
 having an article of his property, and that cov- 
 ered with blood, requires explanation." 
 
 " I know, your honours, I know it does ; 
 and I want to tell you how it happened that 
 I got this pocket-handkerchief. As I was a 
 saying — I was walking near the cliff, when I
 
 190 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 saw two men coming towards me — one keep- 
 ing very near the precipice/' 
 
 " Who was this other man?" interrupted 
 Sir Ronald, looking Blackburn in the face, and 
 fixing his eye steadily upon him — whilst a pen, 
 which he held in his hand, was seen to tremble 
 with a quick convulsive motion. The ques- 
 tion was one of despair — it was that hasty 
 interrogatory which the wounded heart sug- 
 gests, and which is calculated either to destroy 
 or relieve the questioner. 
 
 Blackburn^s cunning look was not lost upon 
 Sir Ronald, and the answer : 
 
 " I really, your honour, cannot say to a 
 certainty, but he was about your size." 
 
 " Swear that man,'^ said Sir Ronald. The 
 book was given — the oath was administered. — 
 " Now, answer this question," continued Sir 
 Ronald ; " will you swear that you do not know 
 who this man was ?'^ 
 
 There was a suspense of a moment 
 or two — a hesitation such as men make, 
 when they calculate chances. But after a
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 191 
 
 short pause, Joe said, " I do not know who it 
 was/' 
 
 " Did you see his countenance at aU?" 
 interrupted Mr. Molesworth, who was also a 
 magistrate. 
 
 " No, Sir,'* answered Joe. 
 
 " And you swear upon your oath — re- 
 member, you call God to witness — that you 
 do not know who this other man was ?" 
 
 " I do not know him/' said Joe, in a dogged 
 manner. 
 
 There was evidently a kinder feeling, from 
 this moment, shown by Sir Ronald to Black- 
 burn. He turned to Mr. Molesworth, and 
 remarked that there was an honest manner 
 about the man — and that although circum- 
 stances were apparently against him — he had 
 yet no doubt, but that he would entirely ex- 
 culpate himself from the charge. " Now, 
 Blackburn,'^ he continued, " go on with your 
 account of this business." 
 
 " As I was a saying, your worships," he 
 began — " I saw these two men coming along 
 towards me." 
 
 " Stop," — said Sir Ronald — " at this time
 
 192 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 you did not know either man to be Her- 
 bert/' 
 
 " No, your honour, it was dark, and I could 
 not distinguish either — I do not know what 
 induced me to conceal myself — but I did lie 
 down close to the brink of the steep part of the 
 cliff, the two people were coming close towards 
 me, and kept so near the edge, that I thought 
 they must have been concerned with the smug- 
 glers — who, sometimes, as your worship knows, 
 land their cargoes in the bay beneath. I was 
 at this time drawn from watching the strangers 
 by a false fire out at sea — and, when I turned 
 round, I only saw one man, and he was a tall 
 one, striding hastily away. Ah, thinks I, you 
 gentlemen are concerned with these smugglers 
 sure enough, so Pll light a fire, and see what 
 will come of it — so I went over the cliff — and 
 there, struggling for his life, and holding on by 
 a small projecting rock, I saw the man I had 
 missed, and was in time to save the life of old 
 Herbert.'^ 
 
 Sir Ronald started, but instantly recovered 
 himself. 
 
 Blackburn continued — " I then lifted him
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 193 
 
 on the cliff, and, taking his handkerchief, I 
 wiped the blood from his forehead^ for he was 
 rather hardly hit; and, as he required some 
 little time to recover I lit the fire, and waited 
 there for some moments. When old Herbert 
 was able to speak, I questioned him about this 
 fall ; but the poor old fellow wouldn't say a 
 word about who the man was, who got him to 
 the edge and then pushed him over. After I 
 had lighted the fire, I came back to see how 
 the old fellow got on ; but he was gone, and I 
 had his handkerchief — and that's the way I got 
 it, — and I'll swear my bible oath of it any day. 
 So you see, Sir Ronald, there's another who 
 knows more about it than I do — and who did 
 not wait to lend a hand to unload the smug- 
 glers." 
 
 " This is," said Mr. Molesworth, " a very un- 
 accountable and a very discreditable history of 
 yourself. First, we have this fact, that you 
 were out for an illegal business — you were 
 concerned with these smugglers ; and next, to 
 light the fire, the usual signal for the coast 
 being clear — or else how came you to find a fire 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 ready prepared over the cliiF, so that those above 
 it could not see it ? — and where did you find 
 the convenient hght which was so ready to your 
 hand ? — I tell you, Blackburn/' continued Mr. 
 Molesworth, with much emphasis, " that the 
 story is not even a probable one ; it is much 
 more likely that you, and your precious asso- 
 ciates, finding you were discovered by Herbert, 
 disposed of him; that the handkerchief was 
 too good to be left in the pocket of the poor 
 fellow, and is thus, by the unerring hand of 
 Providence, become the great evidence against 
 yourself. I think. Sir Ronald, you must agree 
 with me in these remarks." 
 
 " It looks odd, certainly,'^ repHed Sir Ronald ; 
 " but he has told a very connected story — of 
 which w^e have no evidence in contradiction. I 
 confess I feel a difficulty on this occasion — but 
 I see no ground for the detention of this 
 man.'' 
 
 " Surely, Sir Ronald, you must see the great 
 danger of allowing him to go at large. What 
 can be more or stronger presumptive evidence 
 against this man, than the circumstance of Her-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 195 
 
 bert's never having been seen afterwards ? Is it 
 likely that an old, valuable, tried servant, so 
 trusty a friend, as even to have been a witness 
 to your father's marriage — would have quietly 
 walked away, after a man had attempted his Ufe — 
 and not say one word about it to yourself, or have 
 given information as tothe approach of the smug- 
 glers ? I cannot for a moment beheve the words 
 of this man ; they are altogether improbable, 
 almost impossible, and I think we should ill 
 do the duty which we have sworn to do in the 
 impartial distribution of justice, if we did not 
 detain this man, until further evidence can be 
 brought against him." 
 
 " Oh for the matter of that," said Blackburn, 
 a little stung by the clear view the magistrate 
 had taken of the affair — " if you lock me up until 
 Christmas next, you will get no more intelligence 
 than you have got already ; but if I go at large, 
 and hear any more, I can come and whisper it 
 to Sir Ronald — or, if you offered a reward, per- 
 haps some one might bring forward the tall man, 
 for instance, who pushed him oveir." 
 
 K 2
 
 196 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " But it appears, Blackburn, that you did not 
 see the man push the other." 
 
 " No, I did not see it, but Herbert, although 
 he would not disclose the name, admitted the 
 fact ;■ — but they say murder will out — and, when 
 rogues quarrel, honest men get their due. I 
 hope I shall find this all true,'^ — and, as he 
 concluded this speech, he cast a hasty glance 
 at Sir Ronald, who perfectly understood the 
 signal. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Molesworth,'' said Sir Ronald, 
 '^ what is to be done in this affair ?" 
 
 " Better, Sir Ronald, withdraw the pri- 
 soner for a moment.^' He was accordingly 
 withdrawn. 
 
 " I think. Sir,'' began Mr Molesworth, " that 
 we cannot with propriety release this man ; — he 
 has in no satisfactory manner accounted for the 
 possession of the property; — on the contrary — I 
 think he has involved himself in a lesser 
 crime, purposely to protect himself against the 
 greater." 
 
 " That may be, and is very true, Mr. Moles- 
 worth," rephed Sir Ronald j " but there is no
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 197 
 
 evidence against this man — ^he has accounted 
 for the possession of the property, be it true or 
 false, and we cannot gainsay it. I think we had 
 better discharge him — indeed, I do not see 
 how we can do otherwise." 
 
 ^^ We can remand him, until this day week ; 
 in the meantime, I will not be inactive in any 
 endeavours to bring to light the circumstance 
 of this mysterious transaction. They can do no 
 harm — as I will take care Blackburn's family 
 is provided for." 
 
 " Be it so, Mr. Molesworth ;" then, ringing 
 the bell. Sir Ronald desired the prisoner might 
 be brought forward. He thus addressed him : 
 " Blackburn, it is the opinion of Mr. Moles- 
 worth that you are in some manner impli- 
 cated in the mysterious departure of Herbert ; 
 you, at any rate, are the last person who 
 saw him, and we find you with some of his 
 property. For my own part, I believe that 
 Herbert yet lives ; but that, for some reason 
 best known to himself, he has absconded 
 without the usual farewell on such occasions. 
 But, as the business must be examined into, we
 
 198 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 have resolved to remand you until this day 
 week. Take him away." 
 
 Blackburn was removed— he never said a 
 word — he never appeared to care the least 
 about his confinement : but, with the resig- 
 nation of a thorough villain, he walked leisurely 
 away. 
 
 " I fear/' said Sir Ronald, " as the prisoner 
 was withdrawn, " that he is a man steeped 
 in iniquity ; but so cunning that he will not 
 easily be discovered. However, I do not be- 
 lieve old Herbert to be dead ; he was a sin- 
 gular old man, and I think very little of his 
 absence, even although he has left his clothes 
 behind him.^' 
 
 " I hope,'^ replied Mr. Molesworth, " you may 
 be right in your conjectures ; but we only do 
 our duty in endeavouring to bring this to 
 light. I wish you a very good morning. 
 Sir Ronald 5" and Mr. Molesworth withdrew. .
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 199 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Every man, of any observation, must, in 
 the course of his lifetime, have remarked how- 
 soon, how easily, the mind of a youngster 
 becomes depraved. It is true, conscience is 
 a formidable barrier ; but it becomes less and 
 less vigorously defended, as the attacks be- 
 come more frequent; and even the heart 
 ceases to beat with increased velocity when 
 a crime is committed. Thus it was with Al- 
 bert ; he herded with men who were reckless 
 of all danger, who were hardened in all 
 iniquity ; the low language, which at first dis- 
 gusted him, was soon familiar to his lips. The 
 duties of religion were gradually forgotten ; for 
 in those days the service of the church was 
 not too frequently performed on board his
 
 200 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 Majesty's ships ; and Albert de Lancy was 
 gradually sinking in the vortex of dissipation 
 which whirled around him. 
 
 Now, no man was louder in the song than 
 Mortimer; his voice was good, his memory 
 retentive, and, when the breeze swelled the 
 canvass aloft, and the ship heeled over as 
 she darted through the sea — the duty of the 
 day being finished — Mortimer was ever the 
 first to sing to his wiUing audience, either a 
 hasty composition of his own, or some of 
 the numerous songs which he had caught from 
 his ship-mates. 
 
 Praise sometimes ruins a man. The great 
 art is to praise with discretion ; too much leads 
 to pride; too little to discontent. The be- 
 haviour of Mortimer in the cutting out of the 
 Chevrette, had been lauded by all ; and in 
 a song, the elegant composition of one of the 
 forecastle men, his name was mentioned ; and 
 in the chorus, where it again occurred, the 
 enthusiasm was always excessive. Then fol- 
 lowed the remarks of his ship-mates. " Well, 
 it was well done — and for a youngster in his
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 201 
 
 first cruize — I shouldn't wonder if he died an 
 admiral, after all/' Another would add, " Aye, 
 these are the boys who do credit to the ship. 
 Mortimer ought to have been made a petty 
 officer; for if a man can steer a ship when 
 the shot are flying about him, he . could stand 
 and say, steady, boys ! steady ! in going into a 
 harbour — or, lufF, my lad ! luff ! at sea, as 
 well as old Feathervane himself/' 
 
 The officers of the ship were not less kindly 
 disposed towards Albert. Courage is ever 
 esteemed in the navy ; it is the first requisite ; 
 for many great events have been achieved by 
 courage alone, from which the prudent would 
 have availed themselves of the better part of 
 valour — discretion — and left unessayed. 
 
 But even this universal praise failed to 
 reach the, heart of Albert, and to render him 
 happy. There was for ever floating before 
 his eyes, the stately turrets of Raven Castle — 
 the long galleries — the splendid apartments — 
 the church, and the last scene he had wit- 
 nessed therein. Neither was Laura Macken- 
 zie absent from his mind. He had turned 
 
 K 3
 
 202 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 from all he loved in Margaret Rawlinson, to 
 the fair bridesmaid ; and, unusual as it was, 
 and is, in naval poetry, to mention such a 
 name, yet Laura was frequently on his lips, 
 even in the wildest effusion of his young brain. 
 He wished again to visit the scenes of his 
 youth ; the fate of his old companion, Herbert, 
 was yet unknown to him ; and he was already 
 tired of a service, in which he saw all the 
 difficulties of advancement, and felt the nu- 
 merous insults which arise from petty ty- 
 ranny. 
 
 The Doris arrived in Plymouth about a 
 fortnight after the affair with the Chevrette, 
 and Albert had now to witness one of the 
 most revolting sights to which the naval ser- 
 vice was subjected. 
 
 The crews of the different ships being partly 
 composed of men liberated from the goals, and 
 partly from those impressed into the service, 
 it became imprudent to allow them any recre- 
 ation on shore, for desertion would have 
 inevitably followed so rash an allowance of rea- 
 sonable amusement. In order, therefore, to
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 203 
 
 keep the men from too eager a desire for the 
 shore, unfortunate creatures, misnamed wo- 
 men, were admitted on board. These poor, 
 abandoned, wretches, were as fallen in decency 
 as in virtue ; scarcely an expression fell from 
 their lips unpolluted by blasphemy, or unde- 
 filed by indecency. Every vice which de- 
 grades the human character might here be 
 seen ; whilst, perhaps, the most reviling of 
 all_, was the most common, drunkenness. To 
 see a woman in that state, robs the mind of 
 half the poetry of life — i^. is a sight more 
 calculated to disgust her associate, than the 
 most abandoned levity. 
 
 The Doris soon swarmed with these vermin, 
 and there being no retreat, Albert was obliged 
 to share in the revelry he despised. He was 
 forced to give the song demanded of him, and 
 receive applause from those, whose very 
 features and characters were to him the most 
 disgusting. 
 
 The next day added more and more to his 
 abhorrence of the service, in which he had so 
 incautiously entered. He was ordered on
 
 204 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 some trivial service in the boat to which he 
 belonged ; two marines were placed in her to 
 prevent any one of the crew from landing; 
 and the free-born sons of the ocean found 
 themselves^ within boat-hookas length of their 
 native land, prisoners. He was refused per- 
 mission to put his foot on shore, and he re- 
 turned, more and more disheartened. 
 
 Again was he subjected to the contagion 
 which raged on board ; and which is more 
 fatal, from being so familiar to the daring 
 spirits which surrounded him. It seemed 
 beneath the character of a seaman to shun the 
 cure ; hence the general propensity to drunk- 
 enness — the disposition to use tobacco in its 
 different disgusting shapes — the language, and 
 all the worst parts of a sailor's life ; for a youth 
 endeavoured to appear a sailor, and soon 
 learnt that which he seldom could quite for- 
 get, even in maturer years, and when the same 
 excitement had been withdrawn. 
 
 It is customary for marines to be placed as 
 sentinels in various parts of the ship when at an- 
 chor; and their orders may generally be summed
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 205 
 
 up in a few words, " To take care not to allow 
 any boat alongside without permission; and 
 to be especially alert to prevent desertion." 
 The officers of the different watches, as the 
 ship was moored, generally left the ship in 
 charge of the mate of the watches ; these, not 
 unfrequently, took a comfortable caulk on the 
 deck, wrapped up in a warm great coat ; the 
 quarter-master lolled over the hammock net- 
 ting, both eyes comfortably warm ; and, occa- 
 casionally even a sentinel on the forecastle, 
 might be found, with his musket leaning 
 against the bulwark-^himself, dozing into for- 
 getfiilness. 
 
 The scene below, revolting as it was, drove 
 Albert from his proper berth; and although 
 the orders of the ship were against any man 
 sleeping about the deck ; and any one loitering 
 about, after eleven o'clock, would have been 
 suspected of some sinister intention, he ha- 
 zarded all reproof, and at that hour crept, 
 unperceived, up the fore hatchway. 
 
 On arrival at the break of the forecastle, 
 he discovered the sentinel asleep, near the long
 
 206 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 gun on the starboard side ; and^ as if conscious 
 that his motive would be suspected, he stole 
 cautiously forward on the larboard side; the 
 ship was riding to the flood tide — a very light 
 breeze scarcely ruffled the water — and not a 
 sound was to be heard. 
 
 The idea of desertion instantly occurred to 
 him. He was well enough aware of the pe- 
 nalty, if he was discovered ; he knew that his 
 lightest punishment would be dozens of lashes 
 on his bare back, tied up and exposed to his 
 ship-mates; whilst, previous to his punish- 
 ment, his legs would be confined in irons, 
 and he an object of universal observation to 
 the rest of the crew. That idea damped his 
 spirits more than all the danger of the under- 
 taking ; for, never contemplating desertion, ' he 
 knew not if the tide was not near its height, 
 that the ebb might come on before he reached 
 the shore, in which case he might be swept 
 out to sea, and die the lingering death of the 
 strong swimmer, who struggles against his fate, 
 even when that fate is the most inevitable. 
 
 He turned his eyes towards the shore — it
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 207 
 
 was not further than he had swam before ; but 
 then it was a long and perilous task^ in which 
 the cry for assistance would have hastened the 
 punishment he would have merited. He could, 
 he knew, creep down the cable and allow him- 
 self to drift by the ship before he struck out ; 
 but the sentinel at the gangway, or the one on 
 the quarter, might observe him — the least 
 splash might create alarm — and alarm once 
 excited is not easily stilled. He had but Httle 
 time left for reflection ; he had heard the 
 " all's well" of the sentinels at six bells, of the 
 first watch ; and now it could but want a few 
 minutes of that time when all would be on 
 the alert — and obliged to repeat the same 
 words. 
 
 The hazard was great ; but Laura Mackenzie 
 seemed to encourage him to the eff'ort. Dis- 
 grace the most appalling to the sensitive mind, 
 whispered, " Prudence — and bide a better 
 time ;" whilst his own abhorrence of the scene 
 below hinted, " The brave never shrink from 
 danger — even if you are detected, you will be 
 applauded for the courage which you have
 
 208 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 manifested in the attempt; think of all you 
 leave and all you have to gain/' 
 
 In a few seconds Albert de Lancy floated by 
 the larboard gangway of the Doris, and was 
 well within hearing as the incautious sentinels 
 called aloud—" all's well." 
 
 The difficulty was began, not ended ; and 
 long did the time appear before Albert dare 
 hazard the attempt of turning round to 
 swim. His object was to reach the shore any 
 where, and to avail himself, as much as possible, 
 of the influence of the tide ; but although he 
 struck out manfully in the direction of Cat- 
 water, yet the distance hardly seemed to de- 
 crease. He is a good swimmer who can ma- 
 nage to compass a mile in an hour. It was 
 much more than that distance to the part on 
 which he meditated landing; but he had yet 
 four hours before daylight broke. He kept 
 his eyes fixed upon the land, for at least a 
 quarter of an hour; when feeling the first 
 warning of fatigue, he turned on his back to 
 float, when to his dismay he perceived the Do- 
 ris had s'wang to the ebb tide, and that he was
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 209 
 
 drifting towards her. To gain the shore now, 
 he felt was almost beyond hope ; it was hard to 
 choose between the only alternatives left — to 
 gain the ship, and by the cable again ascend 
 to the forecastle — or to be carried to sea, and 
 meet a lingering death. Fear soon exaggerated 
 the evil. He felt himself growing nearer the 
 ship; and to avoid her, he used his utmost 
 strength to pass at such a distance as to evade, 
 perhaps, the more cautious eyes of those en- 
 trusted with the middle watch. 
 
 He passed in security — and what then were 
 his thoughts ? The tide now hindered his re- 
 turn to the ship from which he had deserted. 
 Before him was the channel, into which he was 
 fast sweeping ! Now, indeed, the only object 
 which could have rescued him was fast dwind- 
 ling away in the distance ; and as any exertion 
 would have been unavailing, he submitted to 
 the fate he had courted; and lying on his 
 back, gradually floated out to sea. 
 
 How often does the anxious seaman wish for 
 daylight — for night ever makes the danger 
 greater ! Those who have striven against the
 
 210 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 fury of the storm in darkness, whilst the loud 
 roar of the boiling surf as it dashed against the 
 rocky shore to leeward was heard, can well 
 feel what Albert felt. The sensation is not 
 akin to that which the eager discoverer of 
 America must have experienced, when in dark- 
 ness he first saw the lights on shore : — his was 
 a hope that his best wishes — his opinions were 
 realized ; that rewards, honors — all which make 
 men strenuous in exertion would be showered 
 upon him; that his name would be handed 
 down to the latest time, and every nation of 
 the world would cherish it with gratitude and 
 esteem. But what could the dawn of day, 
 bring to console the sea-tossed deserter ? His 
 life might be spared 3 the all benevolent Pro- 
 vidence might rescue him from the surrounding 
 danger; he might be restored to his parent 
 land ; but how ? almost naked — perfectly 
 friendless — without one farthing by which he 
 might purchase a sufficiency to still the crav- 
 ings of nature; every creature interested in 
 delivering him up to justice — rewards being 
 placed upon his apprehension ! and why had
 
 THE SPITHRE. 211 
 
 he deserted ? not from any act of tyranny on 
 the part of his captain, or his officers ; but 
 because he was disgusted with the people with 
 whom he was destined to associate. 
 
 As the waves hfted him up, as they rolled 
 by him, bitter indeed were the reflections 
 which crowded upon his memory. So young, 
 and yet perhaps to die — and not even to die 
 in peace with his own brother, against whom his 
 hand had been raised. He now reconciled 
 himself, by forgiving that brother all the injury 
 he had inflicted upon him ; and he even prayed 
 for his prosperity. The figure of Laura Mac- 
 kenzie now floated before him in imagination — 
 all which young imagination could conjure up 
 of ideal beauty— all that the fondest heart 
 could dictate — came rushing in his mmd. 
 
 " I will not die," he said, " if struggles long 
 and determined can rescue, or save me. I 
 have been in dangers as great as the present, 
 and been saved ; and I have no forewarning 
 that this is my last hour. But come what may, 
 I am prepared. Within myself, all is peace 
 and comfort ; and saving that hope has drawn
 
 212 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 a glowing picture of what may be my future 
 prospects, I could die, even here — the sea my 
 pillow and my grave, without a murmur." 
 
 He had now floated for more than an hour, 
 and had been carried a long — long way beyond 
 the Doris; but as he turned to resume his 
 swimming, he saw his old ship riding gently 
 at anchor, not quite so far distant as even he 
 could have wished. He now directed his 
 course as much towards Cawsand bay as pos- 
 sible. He saw, in that direction, plenty of 
 boats, all eager to gain the anchorage ; but of 
 all the world, not one eye was directed towards 
 him ; not one soul knew his danger ; and not 
 one being cared for his existence — saving, 
 perhaps, her who was sound asleep, enjoying 
 all the dreams which health and innocence 
 might supply. 
 
 To reach Cawsand bay was impossible ; the 
 tide swept more to sea. To attract attention 
 was hopeless ; the best telescope would hardly 
 have brought him within notice ; and there he 
 might have died, and been the food of sea 
 gulls, which, even now, impatiently hovered
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 2l3 
 
 over him, waiting for the repast ; but for the 
 near approach of a fishing boat, which was 
 stretching in towards him before she made her 
 last tact to reach the bay. The boat nearly 
 ran over him, before he hallooed ; he was 
 rescued by seamen, as gallant as himself; he 
 unhesitatingly avowed himself a deserter ; and 
 they, as frankly, declared they would conceal 
 him. By six o'clock he was in a cottage in 
 Cawsand bay.
 
 214 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 About four miles from Truro, there stood a 
 small cottage sequestered in a pleasant vale. It 
 had descended for years in the family of theMac- 
 kenzies, which, although not a Cornish name, 
 had, by intermarriages, become almost a Cor- 
 nish people. The family had originated in 
 a wealthy inhabitant of Glasgow ; who, wishing 
 to forget for ever the land in which he had 
 toiled for his wealth, and where his low origin 
 was known, had retired to this spot to hoard 
 the gold he had amassed, and to enjoy all the 
 miser's luxury of counting that which he was 
 too cowardly to spend. 
 
 If ever a law was required in this lawj^er- 
 ridden country, it was required then, to force
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 215 
 
 these lying wTetches to contribute their fair 
 proportion to defray the expenses of the state. 
 The miser who hoarded thousands, was taxed 
 almost as a pauper ; and the tax-gatherer, that 
 scarecrow in the field of industry, hardly 
 thought it worth the ink he wasted, to tap at 
 the door of Archy Mackenzie. He died, and 
 his heir dissipated his money. The cottage 
 became the property of a maiden sister, who 
 bequeathed it to her nephew, who, again, left 
 it to his widow ; who now, with one daughter, 
 inhabited the almost forgotten abode. 
 
 " And you have seen him lately,^' began 
 Mr Rawhnson, " have you, Mrs. Macken- 
 zie?^' 
 
 " Indeed I have," replied the old woman ; 
 " he was in great distress ; and poor as I am, ' 
 I could not refuse Laura's request to share 
 even the little I have with so old a servant.'^ 
 
 " That is spoken like a good charitable 
 Christian ; and charity is a good legal release 
 for trifling sins — it covers a multitude of them, 
 and is doubly blessed when it comes from 
 those who drain it from a scanty store, and
 
 216 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 who might themselves be benefitted by the 
 gorgeous overflowings of the rich man's purse. 
 It does you infinite credit, Mrs. Mackenzie, 
 and I should like to share in your pleasure, by 
 alleviating, as far as my poor ability would 
 warrant, the distress of this poor, old, ill-used 
 Herbert. Where does he live ?^' 
 
 " He has left his abode," interrupted Laura, 
 whose residence at Raven Castle had given 
 her some insight into Rawlinson's character ; 
 ^' left it some days since," continued the girl, 
 carelessly, " and, poor fellow, in great dis- 
 tress. Perhaps, if you leave that which will 
 be most charitably disposed of, with my mo- 
 ther, we might be enabled to make it reach the 
 intended channel.'^ 
 
 Rawlinson fixed his eye on Laura ; but the 
 girl, quite unconscious of the glance, continued 
 the meditative employment of knitting a 
 purse. 
 
 "Everybody,'^ continued the lawyer, "seems 
 indisposed to remain quietly at home. That 
 Albert de Lancy — ha ! you start. Miss Laura, 
 — pray have you seen him ? he, too, has wan-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 217 
 
 dered away from his brother's house ; and, if 
 not sheltered by a poor-house, or fed by the 
 King in one of the goals, must be a vagabond, 
 by law, from his strolling propensities. The 
 Vagrant Act is sufficiently comprehensive to 
 include him in its merciful grasp j for, having 
 no home, he must necessarily sleep under a 
 hedge or d. haystack, and that is crime enough 
 in a pauper/' 
 
 " I think," replied Laura, whose face crim- 
 soned as she spoke, '^ that your daughter's 
 brother-in-law, might claim some better dis- 
 tinction at your hand, than a rogue and a 
 vagabond." 
 
 '' I speak, my dear," replied the artful 
 attorney, " of the law of the land. Any mis- 
 fortune might drive a man to be houseless, 
 and then he comes under that class so well 
 described by Churchill : — 
 
 " Beg-gars of every age and station 
 Are rogues and fools from situation." 
 
 " And what drives Albert de Lancy to this 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 state ?" asked Mrs. Mackenzie. " Surely the 
 Baronet has wealth enough to supply the wants 
 of his own brother ?*' 
 
 " Mr. Rawlinson/' interrupted Laura, '' is 
 the best person in the world to whom you 
 could apply for information, on so interesting a 
 subject.'^ 
 
 " He merely, I believe, assaulted and robbed 
 his brother. Madam ; that is all, I believe ; 
 and Sir Ronald was insulted when he offered 
 forgiveness. You see, my dear Madam, that 
 Miss Laura imagines it quite desirable that 
 brothers should knock each other about, like 
 bluebottle flies in a butcher's shop.^' 
 
 " Stop, Mr. Rawlinson; I saw Albert de 
 Lancy return the purse. I believe he was 
 driven, by the most aggravating of all circum- 
 stances, to strike his brother; I am sure he 
 repented the rash act ; and, in all probability, 
 has long since served the hard apprenticeship 
 of those, whose daily toil but ill supplies the 
 food of life; and who, when oppressed by 
 fatigue, lie down to rest upon a miserable 
 pallet, with scarce covering enough to warm 
 their aching limbs."
 
 THE SPlTnRE. 219 
 
 " Young ladies are often misled by reports/' 
 replied Rawlinson, " and, in the wamith of 
 their imagination, colour rather too highly. 
 The poor sleep more soundly than the pam- 
 pered man, whose nights are interrupted by 
 night-mares and alarms ; no thief despoils the 
 labourer of his profits, and midnight mur- 
 derers skulk behind a hedge, as the unworthy 
 prey passes by. But, to those in affluence, 
 every step is that of danger ; and the window 
 of the rich often yields to the centre-bit 
 of the housebreaker. The night creeps on, 
 and I must return to Truro ; to-morrow I ^vill 
 renew my visit, and endeavour to discover the 
 retreat of Herbert, whose poverty I will re- 
 lieve. He can return to the castle ; Sir Ro- 
 nald \^tQ again receive him, and his old days 
 may be spent in that abode, where his 
 youth of honourable service, procured him a 
 good and an excellent character." 
 
 " There is something strange in that man's 
 sudden appearance amongst us," said Laura, 
 as Rawlinson left the house. '^ He has not 
 left his daughter to become the haughty mis-
 
 220 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 tress of the castle, uncontrolled by his advice, 
 or his presence, without some urgent business 
 had prompted him to make this long, and ap- 
 parently useless visit/' 
 
 " It is the first time he ever came here,'' 
 replied Mrs. Mackenzie ; " and, if my old eyes 
 do not deceive me, never was there a man 
 with a worse countenance. To-morrow, he 
 returns ; perhaps Herbert had better see 
 him.'' 
 
 " No," replied Laura ! '^ it were better he 
 left his charity here, and returned without an 
 interview. We can always dispatch the old 
 servant to Raven Castle; if, indeed, the poor 
 wretch would hazard his life by so doing." 
 
 '' How can he hazard his life ?" 
 
 ^' Merely," replied Laura, unhesitatingly, 
 " on account of his age and infirmities -, the 
 distance he would have to travel might be too 
 long for his old legs. It is late, dear mother — 
 good night." 
 
 When Rawlinson left the cottage, he 
 made the best of his way towards Truro. 
 The night was dark, and a small rain began to
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 221 
 
 fall. As he walked quickly along, he thought 
 much of the dreariness of the road, and pon- 
 dered over the cunning answers of Laura 
 Mackenzie, who had evaded all his questions 
 concerning the actual abode of Herbert. He 
 had come this distance to learn from Herbert's 
 own mouth the story of the cliff — thus to 
 hold his son-in-law tighter within his grasp, 
 having, at all times, the witness ready to be 
 brought forward. Rawlinson was a man not 
 easily foiled ; he was as great a villain as ever 
 Sir Ronald could have selected to forward his 
 dnvenomed and unnatural wishes ; cunning 
 in his profession, sagacity enough to dis- 
 cover its numerous flaws, he made his chents 
 believe in his sincerity by his pretension to 
 religion ; which character he put on and put off, 
 with as much dexterity as a play-actor changes 
 his garb; taking special care, when under 
 this disguise, never to hazard a word which 
 could be construed into levity ; whilst on the 
 other hand, when it was requisite to appear 
 gay with the gay client, he was lavish of his
 
 222 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 anecdotes, in which there was no tincture of 
 religion, no moral which redeemed the loose- 
 ness of the story. As he plodded his way 
 homewards, revolving in his mind his future 
 conduct in regard to Herbert, he felt himself 
 suddenly seized by his collar, and held by a 
 hand too powerful to be loosened. 
 
 " Come, shipmate," the stranger began, 
 " I have no time to loose ; necessity, they 
 say, has no law, and therefore bear a hand ; 
 unrigg yourself, and clap this gear over your 
 mast-head. Fair exchange is no robbery; I 
 want your clothes, and I give you mine. 
 Quick, or by all that's holy, you'll never live to 
 eat your supper." 
 
 " That voice," said Rawlinson, as the stran- 
 ger's grip was a httle relaxed, " is famihar to 
 me." 
 
 " Not so familiar as the hand \^^ll be, if you 
 stand there and disobey orders ; — quick — your 
 coat and waistcoat ! the lower rigging will 
 do — you may keep that ; don't say I wanted 
 to rob you — take everything out of your poc-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 223 
 
 kets, and tell me where I can forward you 
 your traps, when they have served my 
 turn." 
 
 Rawhnson was soon released of his fash- 
 ionable attire, and, in return, was dressed in 
 a round jacket and guernsey frock, on the front 
 of which he saw the name of " Doris." 
 
 " Now, then," said the stranger, " part 
 company. But tell us your name before you 
 haul your colours down." 
 
 " If you send the clothes to Mr. Rawlinson, 
 at the Crown Inn, any time within forty-eight 
 hours I shall receive them." 
 
 " I shan't forget the name in a hurry. 
 There ! top your boom and make sail." 
 
 Rawlinson did not require a second hint to 
 depart ; he had taken care to remove his 
 money from his waistcoat pocket, but he had 
 not, owing to his fears, removed the various 
 papers in his coat pocket ; he was glad enough 
 to escape, and making the best of his way, 
 arrived at his inn. The stranger had left him 
 his great coat, which, being buttoned, concealed 
 the garb beneath.
 
 224 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 No sooner was he seated in his own apart- 
 ment, and released from all fears of a second 
 visitation, than he rang his bell, and announced 
 that a robbery had been committed, and shewed 
 his dress. 
 
 " The Doris,'^ said the landlord, as he 
 looked at the guernsey frock ; " why, there 
 are bills stuck upon every wall in the town, 
 mentioning the name, and giving the descrip- 
 tion of the deserter, who run from that frigate 
 about ten days ago, with a reward of three 
 pounds for the fellow's apprehension; you 
 can't be the man, surely, and think to blind me 
 with the robbery/' 
 
 " Nonsense,^' replied the irritated attorney. 
 " Surely, it is bad enough to be robbed of 
 one's coat, without being suspected a de- 
 serter and a har. Let me have some sup- 
 per.'^ 
 
 Boniface, although well inchned to obey the 
 last order, was ready enough to disbelieve cer- 
 tain portions of the story; and, forthwith, 
 ordering supper for the gentleman in No. 3, 
 he ran to a dead wall, against which, the bill
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 225 
 
 stickers had been liberal of their paper. " Here 
 it is, sure enough -, ' Deserted from His Ma- 
 jesty's ship Doris, Albert Mortimer.' " Then 
 followed a description. " ' Five feet, nine 
 inches in height, dark hair and eyes, rather 
 fresh complexion, small whiskers, good figure, 
 twenty years of age. The deserter is supposed 
 to have worn at the time he left the ship, 
 white-duck trowsers and a guernsey frock, on 
 which the ship's name was marked.' " The 
 customary reward for his apprehension fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 " Cannot be him," said Boniface ; " this 
 chap has light hair — carrotty withal — large 
 bushy whiskers, is not much taller than a 
 wine pipe; and, as for his figure, it's more 
 like the square build of a mile stone, with 
 a butcher's tray stuck in front of it. How- 
 ever, he has been near the deserter, and if I 
 give a hint to one or two of my workpeople, 
 I think we might catch my gentleman under 
 a hedge. Twenty years of age ! why, that 
 carrotty-headed tiger is fifty, and has as much 
 care on his countenance, as a man with the 
 
 L 3
 
 226 THE SPllTIRE. 
 
 lock jaw. I never throw a chance away, 
 and ni have a look out myself this night/' 
 
 Returned to the inn, Mr. RawHnson was 
 duly informed of the description of the deser- 
 ter, which corresponded exactly with that of 
 the person who had so unceremoniously bor- 
 rowed or exchanged the coat. 
 
 Albert knew that the cottage of the Mac- 
 kenzies was not far distant from the spot on 
 which he now stood. The fishermen who 
 rescued him, sheltered, fed, and housed him 
 for one day — but, at night, they urged him to 
 depart, as they were apprehensive that he 
 might be betrayed by some of their associates, 
 who were not influenced, perhaps, by any strict 
 notions of honour, weighing that in the oppo- 
 site scale, in which was placed three sterling 
 pounds. 
 
 It was a service of some danger to Albert, 
 for, in the times of which we write, it was a 
 matter of extreme difficulty for a deserter, 
 dressed as a sailor, to make good his escape. 
 He left those who had saved his life, during 
 a heavy storm: and that which would have
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 227 
 
 deterred others from venturing abroad^ to him 
 offered a kind concealment ; for the first time 
 in his Ufe, he was fearful of meeting the eye of 
 a human being. At a quick pace, he struck 
 across the country, carefully avoiding any 
 house, and keeping close to the hedges, direct- 
 ing his steps into Cornwall ; during the day, he 
 selected the most unfrequented path, or seized a 
 quiet spot as a place on which he might repose. 
 
 In this manner, he continued, until the se- 
 venth day, when having seen his name pub- 
 lished as a deserter, his dress accurately 
 described, his features, height, appearance, all 
 mentioned in the hand-bill, he resolved to 
 exchange his dress with the first man 
 he happened to meet, before he presented 
 himself to Laura Mackenzie, from whom he 
 hoped to learn something relative to Herbert. 
 A countryman happening to pass, Albert was 
 informed that the residence of Mrs. Mackenzie 
 was within a bow shot. 
 
 It was past ten o'clock, the night dark and 
 dreary, and the brother of the possessor of 
 Raven Castle had no shelter from the coming
 
 228 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 storm. He stood before the humble cottage 
 which contained all he loved on earth. 
 How often did he pace before the little gate — 
 how fixed were his eyes on the only window 
 from which a light appeared. To him, the 
 light was as welcome as that which greets the 
 eyes of the doubting mariner, from whom the 
 sun had withdrawn its setting splendour, 
 and left him uncertain if the rock-girt coast 
 was within five, or one hundred miles — and 
 when, dreading the impervious horrors of the 
 leeward shore, the mist grew thicker, and the 
 wind increased, some momentary clearance 
 showed the welcome light, broad upon the 
 beam, and sufficiently distant to establish the 
 security of the vessel ; oh, pleasure inexpres- 
 sible — known only to those whose lives are 
 perilled on the broad ocean, where the barrier 
 against eternity, is a slender plank — to whom 
 each breeze may be fatal — each sea a grave. 
 
 Albert felt a security, to which he had, for 
 one week, been a stranger. It was true, the 
 coat which concealed his person was larger than 
 was requisite, and even his elegant figure ap-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 229 
 
 peared to disadvantage enveloped in such an 
 acre of cloth ; he paced round the front of the 
 cottage — the light was removed, and again re- 
 placed; it was evident some one was on the 
 alert, and who could it be, in the imagination 
 of a lover, but that person, the object of his 
 affection. It was not long before the window 
 was opened, and Laura Mackenzie, as if court- 
 ing the breeze, which was fragrant from the 
 jessamine, appeared. iVlbert crouched under 
 the hedge; for although the very object he 
 sought, was now before his eyes, yet he was 
 rather unwilling, or afraid to address it; she 
 saw him not, or the song which she carelessly 
 warbled, would have been withheld, and the 
 window closed ; but still she Hngered — still she 
 sang — and only paused, when the approach of 
 footsteps warned her that delicacy was the 
 handmaid of discretion. 
 
 A countryman apparently bent with age and 
 enveloped in the white domino, a smock frock, 
 came slowly along the road, his trembUng hand 
 was supported by a stout stick — a breath of 
 wind might have been an adversary against
 
 230 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 which he could hardly have contended ; the 
 poor old man seemed lingering on the earth 
 yet verging towards his grave. 
 
 ^' Come quicker, quicker/^ said Laura Mac- 
 kenzie, whose impatience chided the slow 
 advance of the old man — ^^ quicker, I say Her^ 
 bert, for I have much to say, and you must be 
 on the alert." 
 
 " Heavens bless the A^oice !'' inwardly ejacu- 
 lated Albert, " that thus warns me that my 
 oldest friend is at hand. 
 
 " Aye Miss Laura," answered the old man, 
 young ladies never consider that old age stiffens 
 the joints, and bends the back. When I was 
 young, I could walk faster than many who now 
 chide the decrepitude of years — and my breath 
 which now hardly supports life, was then suffi- 
 cient to keep life and soul together even if I 
 ran up a hill ', — but here I am, Miss, quite close 
 enough to listen to you and do your hid- 
 ings." 
 
 " You must walk at least four miles this 
 night, old Herbert," replied Laura. ^' I have 
 reasons quite sufficient, why you should not be
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 231 
 
 SO near the cottage for a day or two. Take 
 this purse, your eyes can find it by this clear 
 moonhght — there, more to your left : now you 
 see it ! go at once — any way but towards 
 Truro ; and the night after to-morrow be here 
 about this time.'^ 
 
 ^^ Heaven bless you, generous lady,^^ said 
 Herbert, " you have given me enough to pro- 
 vide for a month's expenses — let me give you 
 half back." Poverty is a tyrant, which would 
 grasp all within its reach, and scarcely heed the 
 generous hand, which proffered the assistance ; 
 but greater is the pleasure, even to the giver, 
 than to the half famished wretch, who is the 
 receiver. 
 
 " Keep it all, good Herbert, much as it may 
 appear to be, I fear it will not keep you in the 
 luxury of a dependant at Raven Castle." 
 
 " Ah, good lady," ejaculated Herbert, "would 
 that I could return there, and not be suspected. 
 I only v/ish 1 could see my young master Albert 
 happy, as his mother wished and expected him 
 to be — then these old limbs might sink into the 
 grave, hands which often welcomed mine, might
 
 232 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 cover this old body with the earthy and my last 
 prayer should be for him who ever regarded 
 me more as a companion than a menial." 
 
 " Begone^ begone/^ said Laura, " there are 
 footsteps approaching, and even innocence 
 would not escape calumny, if it distributed 
 charity from a window, when darkness made it 
 a mystery." 
 
 The window was hastily closed, the light 
 removed, and Herbert slowly advanced on 
 the high road, in the opposite direction from 
 Truro. 
 
 Albert who had overheard their conversation, 
 felt eager to clasp again the hand of his old and 
 valued friend ; but he was a deserter ; now the 
 law might claim him as a thief — and all the 
 boldness of a sailor dwindled into the crouchins: 
 apprehension of the evil doer. Fortunately for 
 him, he had conquered his anxiety, under the 
 consolation, that a few of his rapid strides 
 would soon overtake his friend ; for no sooner 
 had Herbert commenced his retreat, than the 
 voice of Boniface was heard, cheering on one 
 or two persons in the pursuit of a thief — and 
 deserter.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 233 
 
 " Come, don't be making such a noise, you, 
 Wilson ! keep close to the hedges, and walk 
 fast. He cannot be far distant — ah, yonder 
 goes a man — after him ! after him !'^ — The pur- 
 suers soon gained upon Herbert whose pace 
 was none of the quickest, whilst Boniface 
 continued his description of the deserter, and 
 described the coat, which he had so uncere- 
 moniously exchanged; — the hope of reward, 
 animated the pursuers— and old Herbert was 
 shortly overtaken.
 
 234 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 C HAPTER XII. 
 
 " Holloa, my friend !'' said the first man 
 as he came close up to Herbert — " Where are 
 you going to at this time of the night ?" 
 
 " Where such men as you seldom go,'^ said 
 the old man, " Home — to my bed.'' 
 
 " Hold up your head, and let us look at your 
 face — why you stoop down, as if you were 
 afraid of showing yourself.'^ 
 
 '' Can you look me in the face like this,'' 
 said Herbert rising his head, ^^ if so — I have 
 mistaken my men, and you are honest peo- 
 ple." 
 
 '^ Thank you for the compliment," said 
 Boniface. " I hope we may say as much of you, 
 and tell no lie. He's too old for our man — go 
 on, lads."
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 235 
 
 " Go on, indeed !" said Herbert, " and take 
 care you don't accidentally meet with a person 
 who, doubting your honesty, hands you over to 
 the constable." 
 
 "^ Stupid old fool,'^ muttered one of the men, 
 " what babbling blockheads men become, when 
 they fancy age is a hcense to talk/' 
 
 Laura heard some words which alarmed her, 
 and she again opened the window ; —each mo- 
 ment lessened the sound — for Herbert continued 
 his progress, and the conversation, save when 
 the old man held up his head, gradually 
 became more distant. 
 
 " Be not alarmed, fair lady," said Albert, as 
 he rose his head clear of the edge, which had 
 concealed him, " poor old Herbert will not be 
 molested — those men seek a younger, and a 
 more desperate man." 
 
 Prudence whispered that the window should 
 be hastily closed — curiosity suggested there 
 was no harm in asking the stranger concerning 
 Herbert ; and there was a something stranger 
 than either in the sound of the voice, which
 
 236 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 overcame all the scruples she might have enter- 
 tained, and rivetted her to the spot. 
 
 " You know Herbert/' she asked, wondering 
 how any stranger could be acquainted ^vdth 
 the man, who had, ever since his flight from 
 Raven Castle, lived almost concealed. 
 
 " Long before you ever saw him, I knew 
 him," replied Albert. 
 
 " Where ?" asked Laura hastily. 
 
 " At Raven Castle,'' replied Albert, " where 
 I first saw you, and listened to a voice, which 
 might have persuaded any one but — hush — 
 they come — you will see me again before long." 
 
 Laura stood at the window, astonished — 
 motionless. She heard the returning footsteps 
 of the discontented pursuers, but searching in 
 vain for the form or figure of him who had 
 addressed her. 
 
 The light, and the fair figure, which stood at 
 the window, attracted the notice of one of 
 Boniface's companions, who having taken the 
 precaution of arming himself with a little Dutch 
 courage imbibed with some ale — allowed his 
 tongue an unfortunate liberty of speech — he
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 23? 
 
 being accompanied by the landlord and stable 
 boy — and the boots of the inn. 
 
 " I say, my pretty lass/' he began, " I won- 
 der if you are looking out for your sweetheart 
 — why he must be a bad un to be out a ramb- 
 ling after the girls at this hour — and you must 
 be preciously in love with him, to keep your 
 head out of the window, as if you were longing 
 to kiss him.'' 
 
 To this effusion Laura made no answer, for 
 she was quite unconscious of the insult, so 
 unexpectedly lavished upon her, but she still 
 remained at the window. 
 
 " Well, my pretty lass," continued the half 
 inebriated speaker, " if he does not come, I'll 
 supply his place — just you stay where you are, 
 and I'll climb up and give you a kiss." — The 
 proposition was cheered by the boots and the 
 ostler, and both remained to see the fun, 
 while Boniface, annoyed at his unsuccessful 
 cruize, returned to Truro, to warn some of the 
 watchmen of their chance of capturing the 
 prize, as in all probability, he would sleep in the 
 town.
 
 238 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 " Bravo, Bill/^ said one, ^^ you always was a 
 fancy man with the women, and you have fas- 
 cinated that maid with your soft tongue. — Silence 
 you know. Bill — silence, gives consent in every 
 thing, excepting when a man asleep is asked 
 for his watch and money, and the gentlemen 
 as asks the question, takes them both, before 
 the sleeping man is quite sure they are gone." 
 
 '^ Well, here's for a try, I'll just clamber over 
 the paling, and be up with you, my lass, in a 
 moment. Give us a lift, Tom, will you, for 
 my head seems to be an overbalance for my 
 feet," — as he said this, he placed his hands on 
 the summit of the railing, and standing on his 
 left leg, offered the other for the assistance of 
 the by-standers. 
 
 It seemed to afford considerable sport to all 
 concerned, and they looked on with that peculiar 
 delight, which men do, when they know they 
 are concerned in mischief. Short however, was 
 the look of pleasure — suddenly the ostler and 
 the boots found themselves sprawling on the 
 road, whilst the adventurous lover was seized
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 2S9 
 
 by the legs, and dragged from his hold — he fell 
 heavily upon his face, and remained stunned by 
 the fall, whilst his two companions, whose 
 courage had been animated alone by the hope 
 of reward, and the presence of their master, 
 sprang upon their feet, and ran away. Albert 
 stood with one foot upon the neck of the 
 sprawling man — and little heeded the cry of 
 deserter, robber, murderer, which the two 
 pursuers so loudly pronounced. 
 
 *' Once more, Laura Mackenzie, you behold 
 the destitute orphan — the supplanted lover — 
 the pilfered son — the deserted brother, Albert 
 de Lancy, — led by the remembrance of her 
 whose kindness partly alleviated my suf- 
 ferings — whose beauty charmed me — am I come 
 here — and fortune follows where resolution 
 leads. The man I most wish to see I find a 
 pensioner on your liberahty — but short is the 
 time allowed me even to speak with him, 
 who alone can unfold the mystery in which I 
 am enveloped. I am now hunted as a deserter 
 from my ship — as a thief, for I have taken the 
 coat from another, and now as the highway
 
 240 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 robber, who has assaulted the housebreaker. 
 Get hence !^' he said to the man who now be- 
 gan to struggle. " Go home, and tell your 
 miserable cowardly companions that it was 
 Albert Mortimer, the deserter, who drove 
 them away and who revenged the insult you 
 offered to that fair lady." 
 
 The hint was soon taken and Laura was 
 alone with Albert. 
 
 " Why," she began, '^ do you subject your- 
 self to be thus hunted, thus disgraced ? Raven 
 Castle is your home.'' 
 
 ^^ No home, fair Laura to me — never vnW I 
 cross that threshold but as one come to claim 
 his just inheritance — and had I its wealth, I 
 would strive to deserve your admiration, as 
 now I deserve your censure." 
 
 " Oh, speak not so ! here am I happier than 
 surrounded by all the retinue, even of Raven 
 Castle. You say you are destitute ; wait, but 
 one moment, and I will relieve you." 
 
 " Stop, fair Laura, and hear me. Within 
 half an hour this road will be thronged with 
 men who would hang their own brothers for
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 241 
 
 the paltry reward offered for my apprehension. 
 Here I cannot remain — to serve me, let me see 
 Herbert, or if that should be denied by the 
 closeness of my pursuers — do you glean from 
 him every word he recollects my father to have 
 said concerning me — place it in writing and 
 treasure it up, as an heir-loom ; and if one so 
 degraded in your eyes could but demand a 
 further favour, it is this, cultivate with your 
 utmost care, the friendship now subsisting be- 
 tween yourself and Lady de Lancy. Through 
 you lies my only hope. I live but to redeem 
 my character, in your estimation ; for when all 
 around looked black upon me, your counte- 
 nance gave me hope of future happiness. How 
 came I to this cottage now ? but for the hope 
 of seeing you ; — and why linger I here now, 
 when every moment is fraught with danger ? 
 but to be near you — to see you — to hear you — 
 and thus after days of danger — and nights of 
 strife — and an existence of loneliness, once 
 more restore myself to all my heart holds 
 dear." 
 
 " I must not hear this," replied Laura; "but 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 this I promise— all that you desire, I will most 
 cheerfully do/' 
 
 " Then do this quickly,'^ answered Albert, 
 " remember me — let not my absence oblite- 
 rate me from your memory — and as I am cons- 
 tant in my affection, so may I be rewarded. — 
 Hush, I thought I heard a distant voice. — No, 
 it was but the fear of my coward heart which 
 prompted the apprehension. The very night 
 wind, which creeps through the almost motiort- 
 less leaves, sounds heavily upon my ear ; and 
 the cheerful cricket, whose constant noise might 
 inure one to its sound, brings with it some 
 alarm. Remember me, fair Laura ! for, as I 
 floated, hke a cast weed upon the ocean, and 
 life itself fast ebbing away, I thought of you — 
 strove against the impending danger, and es- 
 caped.^' 
 
 " Not this time, my lad,'^ said a man who 
 instantly leaped from the hedge, followed by 
 others, and who seized Albert by the collar. 
 
 ^^ Liar V screamed Albert. " Lie there f the 
 stranger was prostrated on the ground, and the 
 deserter was freed. A cry of terror was heard —
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 243 
 
 the liglit was extinguished — the window clos- 
 ed. 
 
 At one bound, Albert cleared the hedge and 
 betook himself to flight ; the pursuers as eagerly- 
 followed and the result was doubtful; one, 
 fearful of disgrace, the other animated by the 
 prospect of reward — one branded for Ufe, if 
 captured — perhaps, condemned to death — the 
 other eager to bring the public thief to justice; 
 but he who speeds to save his life, has all to 
 gain. The speed increased, rather than dimi- 
 nished, and one by one the pursuers dropped 
 oflf, until one only remained, and he, although 
 fast losing ground, continued his almost hope- 
 less pursuit. Albert still ran, until he imagined 
 the many were far distant and the only one 
 who followed nearly fatigued. Then he stopped, 
 and awaited his pursuer ; the short respite re- 
 stored his almost exhausted breath; young — 
 active — resolute — he was soon prepared to 
 meet his foe, who, much older in years, was of 
 a build which denoted strength. Advancing 
 to the last, with the eager impetuosity he had 
 commenced, the pursuer rushed upon his sup- 
 
 M 2
 
 2-44 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 posed prey. " I have you at last/' faintly 
 uttered the stranger. 
 
 " Indeed," coolly replied Albert ; " and my 
 destination ?" 
 
 " To a goal, scoundrel ; why, as I live, you 
 
 stand a self- convicted thief; that coat is mine.^' 
 
 " It belongs to as great a scoundrel as ever 
 
 drew breath," replied Albert, " one Rawlinson, 
 
 an attorney — do you recognize me ? 
 
 " Albert de Lancy 1" ejaculated Rawlin- 
 son. 
 
 ^^ The same whom Mr. Rawlinson would 
 lodge in a goal, whilst his daughter sleeps in 
 his victim's bed. Could three pounds ten shil- 
 lings have induced a thriving attorney to leave 
 his bed to hunt up a deserter ?" 
 
 ^^ It was the wish to take the thief who stole 
 my coat." 
 
 ^^ Now, my wish is gratified, to meet, face to 
 face, where none can witness but the moon, 
 the man, by whose intrigues, and by whose 
 stratagems I was deprived of her who loved 
 me, and the wealth which I know was
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 245 
 
 " What avails the argument now ? Would 
 my daughter marry a thief — a deserter — 
 a " 
 
 " A villain/' interrupted Albert, " go on, 
 Sir ; I can assist you with a few words, which, 
 as I have often lavished them upon yourself, 
 are ready at my tongue's command, when the 
 object of my hatred is before me ; but now 
 I scorn to use words — place your hand upon 
 my shoulder — say when you are prepared, 
 advance your foot to mine — and, as your frame 
 is the strongest — your judgment the most ma- 
 tured — your blood the coolest — every advan- 
 tage will be yours, but the advantage derived 
 from insulted honour; here let us grapple 
 as foes — and as foes, let us part for ever." 
 
 " Sir, you brand me as a dishonest man ; 
 nay more, as a villain ; before this strife com- 
 mences, justify yourself in that respect, and 
 tell me in what manner I have so conducted 
 myself, as to merit the reproach/' 
 
 " Can I be blind ; can I be accounted an 
 idiot?'' answered Albert, "to see my own 
 desolation and not be able to trace it to its
 
 246 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 right source ? You have ever been more like 
 a master in Raven Castle, than one whose 
 advice is sohcited and paid for. When your 
 daughter's affections were fixed on me, who 
 did I find thwarting my views and prospects, 
 but her father ? I saw that man, who, before 
 my father's death, was verging upon pauper- 
 ism, suddenly become rich; I saw him, who 
 never crossed the threshold but when invited, 
 walk in as the equal to its proprietor ; and I 
 have seen him actually command that attend- 
 ance, which society has forced upon welcomed 
 guests. In every step of my life, since my 
 father's death, you have watched me ; where- 
 ever I go, I trace you 5 and as I know you 
 to be cunning, ambitious, desperate, so I confi- 
 dently brand you as a villain, and challenge 
 you, even in the slight accusation I have made 
 against you, to plead not guilty." 
 
 " Poor young man,^' said Rawlinson, " how 
 sincerely I pity you ; your poverty and your 
 desperate situation blind your reason. I will 
 prove myself even now your friend ; I will 
 return with you to Raven Castle, place you
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 24? 
 
 in your position in life, urge your brother to 
 make you a suitable allowance, and in any 
 path of life you may select, do my utmost to 
 clear any difficulties/' 
 
 " And for ever hold Albert de Lancy in- 
 debted to you for only giving him one quarter 
 of his rights, when, perhaps, the whole may 
 come unsolicited. I have a word to say be- 
 fore we part; I see in your subterfuge, the 
 coward's evasion ; I will not, therefore, strike 
 you, neither will I waste more words, when 
 time to me is precious. Beware — there is no 
 crime so well concealed, but that detection 
 ultimately lays it bare ; — there is a punishment 
 on earth in one's conscience — the prelude to 
 a greater one hereafter. Beware of me — my 
 eye is for ever upon you — the never sleeping 
 vigilance of the injured, hovers over you; 
 return to my brother — your victim — and tell 
 him this, if you have more courage in words 
 than in deeds, that if he will but disclaim 
 you, and do me justice, I will forgive 
 him." 
 
 Rawlinson had gained his object, — it was
 
 248 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 to avoid any personal conflict, for although 
 stronger than his adversary, he was deficient 
 in that courage which is almost always atten- 
 dant on innocence; he now sought to slink 
 away with credit, and at the last to leave a 
 good impression hehind him. 
 
 " 1 regret the false view you have taken of 
 my conduct ; and, could I have imagined you 
 as the deserter, I would have led those poor 
 fellows in a contrary direction. From the 
 despair which prompted you to exchange your 
 dress, you must be deficient in resources, al- 
 low me to offer you this purse, it can be repaid 
 when you are reconciled to your brother, 
 to which end, I will use my utmost exer- 
 tion." 
 
 '- I will borrow that," repUed Albert, 
 " which shall be returned with interest. I 
 could, from the character I have taken, seize it, 
 and be no worse in the eye of the law than 
 now. The sooner we part, the better — before 
 long you will see me again ; if you are sincere 
 in your promise, I shall know it. Then, 
 even I — insulted as I have been —driven from
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 249 
 
 my home, and forced into crime, may yet par- 
 don you. Go !" 
 
 Rawlinson turned round to retrace his steps, 
 and Albert, quite unconscious of the road, fol- 
 lowed the first one until nearly day-dawn, 
 when he struck across the fields, keeping aloof 
 from all signs of habitation. 
 
 No sooner had Rawlinson got clear of his 
 desperate enemy, than he rubbed his hands 
 and began to tarn in his mind the benefit to 
 arise from the discovery, " I have him," he 
 said, " as a deserter — that is easily traced 
 from the ship — the description, even the man- 
 ners of the man, that must be ascertained and 
 remembered. In the next place, he has com- 
 mitted a felony ; and I, if it becomes neces- 
 sary, may burthen my conscience with a slight 
 accession of load, by adding an affidavit of 
 theft. The purse and its contents, I could swear 
 to for years to come ; — now am I doubly safe 
 — but to render me secure, Herbert must be 
 found ; and Laura Mackenzie shall be the 
 means, cunning as she fancies herself, of per- 
 suading the old fool to return to Raven Castle, 
 
 M 3
 
 250 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 How beautiful is this night ! and yet how I long 
 for the day ; even that boy alarmed me. How 
 true it is, that it requires three times the talent 
 to be a rogue than it does to be an honest man. 
 The one leads to respectability, and the other 
 to the gallows. His words have struck me 
 hard, for there was truth lurking in every sen- 
 tence ; but I will revenge them — I am the 
 brother of Ronald de Lancy — his fortune is 
 mine ; and from the web which I have woven 
 around him, no sudden leap can break through 
 the entanglement.'^
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " I WONDER,'^ said Tom Snarling, as he 
 stood at the helm of the Spitfire, " where the 
 devil we are bound to now ? That captain of 
 ours is grown as steady as a pump bolt, and 
 speaks as little as a quaker in action ; he cau- 
 tiously avoids all strange sail ; and I think our 
 chance of prize money is about as small, 
 as a lawyer's chance of going to heaven." 
 
 " Well, and what then, ship-mate ? go where 
 he will, all will follow him ; — he is as brave as 
 a lion, and as generous as a young girl of 
 seventeen. What course are you steering ?" 
 
 " About E.N.E. ; she lies a Httle higher 
 every now and then, and orders are left to 
 steer that course if the wind becomes fair,"
 
 It $ fKTJkf^ Thhl : opr^sn. ri 
 
 m lil^ I 
 
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 254 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 assorted to the weather. She was painted 
 black, with a narrow red streak, and on her 
 stern was written, '^ The Jonathan Dobbs, of 
 Baltimore.'^ Her trade was not of the most 
 legitimate order; and, occasionally, her bills 
 of lading comprehended the cargoes of other 
 vessels with which she had fortunately encoun- 
 tered. 
 
 In the piracy thus practiced, no blood was 
 ever shed j — the captain of the Spitfire was a 
 rare compound of clemency — honour — disho- 
 nour — fierceness — meekness ; he had as many 
 different ingredients as are found in the manu- 
 facture of punch — the sweet and the sour — the 
 strong and the weak. His crew, formerly 
 ruthless ruffians, had become tractable sailors, 
 from the discipline enforced. Every man 
 knew his station; and although each could 
 have sacrificed his ship-mate to the law of any 
 country, few quarrels and fewer recriminations 
 took place. The plan adopted was usually 
 this : — on the discovery of a strange sail, of 
 which the Spitfire went in chase, and ascer- 
 tained to be a merchantman, a long piece of
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 255 
 
 canvass, painted white, and with port holes in 
 black, was fastened over the side, and covered 
 the red streak; whilst another, with the 
 " Fancy of LiverpooV^ written in large letters, 
 was hung over the stern, and obscured the 
 " Jonathan Dobbs/' Of these last, as well as 
 of the former, there were several sets, and the 
 name, like that of the play actor, underwent a 
 variety of changes ; but with the crew, she had 
 but one name, ^-* The Spitfire ;" and she was 
 christened as such, long after her launch, in 
 consequence of her sailing one night in the Me- 
 diterranean, when such was the highly phospho- 
 rescent state of the water through which she 
 cleared her way with uncommon rapidity, 
 that she seemed to emit fire from her 
 bows. 
 
 The Spitfire had no estabhshed resting-place, 
 she was the real cosmopolite. If her success 
 was great, and her hold well stowed, she 
 invariably steered to the port, or some port 
 in the same country, to which the vessel she 
 had robbed was destined, sold the cargo, and 
 made sail to another far distant country. The
 
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 CTimTn^ jr j£
 
 258 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 Guyra : when the information arrived, we 
 generally put to sea. The roadstead of La 
 Guyra is very unsafe, owing to the rollers, 
 as they are called — a kind of ground swell — 
 which sweep to the shore, previous to a 
 coming breeze 5 — a vessel weighing with the 
 rollers, coming in, would in all probability be 
 wrecked ; and when the breeze does come, it 
 would be difficult to creep off the shore ; be- 
 sides, if an English man of war came to the 
 same anchorage,it might have been disagreeable. 
 " The vessel — she was then called, the San 
 Francisco — was kept in the offing, whilst the 
 captain went on shore. The coast is high; 
 and on the summit of one of the hills, we had 
 erected a small flag staff: whenever the signal 
 was hoisted, we stood in, and sent a boat; but 
 if a ball was shown — at night, a transparent 
 one, by day, a white one, — it was a signal to 
 keep in the offing. We arrived the following 
 morning ; and the captain, as usual, went on 
 shore. He said, in a sulky manner, as he went 
 over the side, ' keep a good look out to leeward 
 • — ^but stand in shore, about five o'clock, and
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 259 
 
 keep your eyes on the signal post — shove off 
 forward/ he continued, ' I have forgotten my 
 money !' and jumping on deck, went below to 
 a secret place in his cabin, and returned with a 
 bag of dubloons. 1 know the chink of gold as 
 well as a gambler ; for many's the time I have 
 handled that beautiful coin. 
 
 ^^ Now, there was not a man fore and aft the 
 craft, who did not say, " there^s something in 
 the wind, or that bag of gold never would have 
 gone over the side of the St Francisco — but to 
 have been shipped either to Spain or England." 
 We all began pondering about this event — 
 tacked the craft, and hove to with her head off 
 shore ; at five o'clock we were close in, and the 
 signal was flying to keep off: at dark the same 
 signal was up, and therefore we kept out to sea 
 for the night. 
 
 " Two days elapsed, before we saw the signal 
 up for the boat : it was sent, and the captain 
 came on board with an empty bag, but in a 
 very good humour. He brought with him a 
 young creature dressed up in boy's clothes. At 
 first sight, we saw it was a girl of about seven-
 
 260 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 teen, very pretty, and very bashful; indeed it was 
 her blush betrayed her, when one of the crew, a 
 good looking fellow, caught her in his arms, and 
 lifted her on deck. She went down in the 
 cabin, and the captain wrote down some sig- 
 nals ; but as the vessel was rolling about, the 
 young lady in pantaloons began to be qualmish 
 and came on deck. Well, the good looking chap 
 — that Spaniard, that the captain always talks 
 to, took care of her, and lifting off her hat to 
 cool her head, was convinced at once of the sex, 
 from the long black hair. He was always kind 
 to a woman ; and somehow he got struck all 
 of a heap with this creature. There's a free- 
 masonry in love ; and I'm blessed if they did 
 not exchange more signals, than the captain 
 wrote down that blessed day ! — never were a 
 pair better assorted ; the man was dark and 
 handsome, with a pair of mustachios, on the 
 ends of which, you might have hung a tin pot by 
 the handle; he had the finest set of teeth I 
 ever saw ; and his figure was that of a man — 
 not your thin wasted wasp-like fop — but a kind 
 of a figure which denoted strength and activity ;
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 261 
 
 whilst his eye — it is not dimmed now — was the 
 sharpest and the clearest I ever beheld. Now, 
 she, as far as I could overhaul her in her dis- 
 guise, was the neatest little figure imaginable. 
 I judged mostly from her foot and hand ; they 
 were very small ; but her eyes ! there was a 
 softness, and yet a quickness, about them I 
 shall never forget ; and in spite of her rigging, 
 it was easy to perceive that she was a woman 
 grown. 
 
 " As these two got chattering and whispering 
 together, they kept their eyes fixed upon each 
 other, and Fm blessed if I did not say, those 
 two will catch fire shortly, if they keep up such 
 a fire from their top lights. But although Carlos 
 was making love, he was sounding the girl, who, 
 as she continued talking, did not take away her 
 hand from that of Carlos. His ears seemed 
 to stand out like a watch dog ; the whole of his 
 countenance was lit up ; his lips curled with a 
 sort of savage ferocity, and the motion of his 
 unemployed hand was that of a man, grasping 
 at something which seemed to elude his clutch. 
 There were forty of us onboard, and we stood like
 
 262 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 statues, watching Carlos and the girl; but 
 although we all spoke the language well, yet we 
 could not catch a sound excepting — ' my 
 father — I leave you to protect his — you swear 
 it/ — ^ By Santa Maria I swear it !' said 
 Carlos. He heard the captain coming up the 
 hatch way, and immediately made a remark 
 about sea sickness; — the paper was put into 
 her hand; — the boat was again manned — and 
 the captain himself landed her. 
 
 " The devil a question could we get Carlos to 
 answer ; and he had the impertinence to say, 
 he never discovered it was a girl, although he 
 supported her, with his hand round her waist, 
 and held the other pretty firmly. 
 
 " We now filled, and stood along the coast, 
 until we came to a village ; we stood in shore 
 as close as we could, and were not a little sur- 
 prised at finding the captain perched on the 
 top sail yard with a glass, looking with an 
 earnestness, he never had done before, especially 
 on a village, and to our fancy, a very dirty one. 
 In the evening, we stood back again to La 
 Guyra, and picked up a boat, in which was the
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 263 
 
 same young gentleman who had been on board 
 in the morning. The captain got into his boat, 
 which^ after pulUng some distance for the 
 schooner, laid upon her oars. Carlos had now 
 full time to talk to the girl, and she seemed 
 overjoyed at his attention ; but whatever passed 
 between them, we never knew, excepting that 
 it was quite clear they both had grown very 
 fond of each other, and that whatever was in 
 the wind, Carlos knew all about it ; when the 
 captain returned, we stood out to sea, One or 
 two vessels passed close to us, but we took no 
 notice of them ; but on Thursday following, we 
 made all sail towards the coast again, and made 
 the land, just about the village before dark — we 
 then shortened sail, and when darkness came 
 on, for there was no moon, we stood close in, 
 and picked up two boats. Carlos knew all 
 about this, for as we stood in, he fixed himself 
 on the starboard bow, and suddenly called 
 out when he saw the boats — ^' Here they are. 
 Sir." — In the first boat, was the same girl, and 
 two men ; in the second, only two men ;
 
 264 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 but all were armed. Our own boat was now 
 hoisted out; and every man but three were 
 ordered in — we were all well armed, and car- 
 ried small sacks made of stout canvass — we 
 crept silently to the shore, and landed in a 
 smooth part of the beach. 
 
 '^There was before us a church, which almost 
 faced the landing place ; to this, with the greatest 
 silence, we proceeded. One of the Spaniards 
 unlocked the door, and for the first time in my 
 life, I stood armed in such a place. I was not 
 more frightened than my neighbours ; but as I 
 paced up the aisle, and heard the footsteps of 
 my companions trampling on the pavement, I 
 felt a chill ; I felt a fear come over me, I had 
 never before experienced. The doors closed 
 heavily upon us — the key turned in the lock, 
 and thirty seven of us heard the noise, and 
 startled at it — men who had dared the laws of 
 every country — whose hands were all more or 
 less tinged withblood — whose liveshad been one 
 day of crime — and crime which required courage. 
 How was it, that we felt this fear, this boy- 
 ish fear, as if the dead could come from the cold
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 265 
 
 damp vault beneath us, and rebuke us for our 
 sacrilege. 
 
 " ' You may speak now/ said the girl, who 
 was close to Carlos; ^ and if you like it, you 
 can have a light — you will have to remain an 
 hour or two 5 but as we must be careful not 
 to let the gleam be seen, we can come down 
 into the vault.^ 
 
 " I never felt as I did then; to think of going 
 down amongst the dead ! — the innocent, they 
 say, can sleep in a church ; faith, I am satisfied 
 I could not close my eyes. 
 
 " The girl, who now cared little to disguise 
 her sex, struck a light ; — she threw down some 
 cigars, and from a basket which she carried, she 
 took out a bottle or two of brandy — a pack of 
 cards, and a small lantern. ^ Make yourselves 
 confortable,' she said, ' I must remain at the 
 church door,' Carlos went with her 5 and we, 
 borrowing courage from each other, assisted a 
 little by the brandy, began to feel more easy. 
 But why we had been brought here, was yet a 
 secret. The captain was absent, and our gaoler, 
 apparently, was a girl of seventeen ; still no one 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 murmured. The light but rendered our situa- 
 tion less enviable ; we saw the spider, the only 
 tenant of the dull cold mansion, and well had 
 it worked; for over the damp walls it had spun 
 its gossamer web. The vault being arched over 
 head, it made the sound of a voice more hollow ; 
 in the corner, in which the feeble light threw 
 an indistinct ray, were two coffins ; and when 
 one of our party first saw them, he turned as 
 pale as a sheet, as he said : ^ look there,' his 
 hand trembled like a leaf, and had we not been 
 men inured to sights of horror — we should have 
 run from the vault and escaped. And after all, 
 what is there to shock one in the sight of a 
 coffin? nothing; but we were in a church 
 defiling the holy sanctuary of the dead — dis- 
 turbing their repose, and for what ? — to com- 
 mit some crime for which perhaps blood would 
 be shed, to step from the threshold of religion, 
 into the very vortex of sin. 
 
 " The fear occasioned by the discovery of the 
 coffin soon passed. One of our crew, the most 
 hardened of us all, and who little thought how 
 soon he would be placed in a damper dungeon,
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 26? 
 
 rallied us on our fears ; he lifted the upper 
 coffin, and placed it on its end, whilst the other, 
 which was smaller, and lighter, he pulled from 
 its resting place, and having brought it to the 
 centre of the vault, he opened the door of the 
 lantern, and putting his hand in his pocket, 
 brought out some dollars. ^ Now,' said he^ 
 ^ here we are for an hour — plenty of brandy — 
 a pack of cards — a good table, and lots of lights. 
 I'll keep the bank, and here it is,' as he said 
 this, he dashed the dollars on the coffin, and 
 the sound reverberated through the church. 
 
 " It was a relief to our mind to do anything ; 
 occupation was what we most needed ; we had 
 all examined our pistols and our swords — and 
 but for this idea, we must have remained in 
 idleness, conjuringup spectres — making spider's 
 webs into ghosts, until fear might so have over- 
 come us, that we should have been unable to 
 have faced any desperate service. We now 
 got round the coffin — some on their knees- 
 others sitting, whilst the rest stood over, and 
 betted their money ; and in this manner the 
 game began. It was Monte — a game you 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 know wellj and every man who has been in 
 South America has seen thousands of times. 
 At first we played in silence — Spaniards seldom 
 speak if they lose ; or if they win, they main- 
 tain the same countenance for twenty doubloons, 
 as they do for a dollar ; they never rejoice at 
 success, or repine at misfortune. But we had 
 amongst us, some Frenchmen, fellows who 
 never ceased chattering, and who made as much 
 noise about losing a dollar, as if they had 
 been tossed by a bull, and fallen into a pond, 
 just deep enough to drown them if they laid 
 quiet. They soon made the church ring with 
 the riot, and this brought Carlos and the girl to 
 the vault. Carlos was a desperate gambler, and 
 his soul thirsted to be amongst us. Love kept 
 him back for a moment — but that moment was 
 soon to pass. He had now thoroughly gleaned 
 the secret from the girl who would not quit his 
 side. 
 
 ^^ It appears that every now and then, there 
 was what is called a Fiesta given in this village 
 — a place near which a river emptied itself into 
 the sea — and where, free from alligators or
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 269 
 
 sharks, as the water was too shallow for those 
 voracious creatures to venture therein, it was 
 customary to bathe. This in certain times of 
 the year, brought together many of the wealthy ; 
 and here the gaming table literally groaned with 
 gold. The captain had, from his spies, heard of 
 this Fiesta being about to take place — and as 
 there was no account given of vessels likely 
 to arrive, he planned with his accomphces the 
 attack upon these tables, and by way of recon- 
 noitring the place, he went there the first night, 
 and played deeply. He cared little if he won 
 or lost, as he counted upon a sure return in a 
 few days. He lost — but his countenance re- 
 mained unchanged, he then walked about in 
 several of the open places where booths had been 
 erected ; and here, to the sound of various 
 kinds of music, the women were dancing the 
 graceful cachucha — or slowly turning in the 
 waltz, as they varied its numerous figures — one 
 of the spies, the father of the girl, who had 
 tumbled in love, at first sight, with Carlos, had 
 some property in the place, and this, of course, 
 it was agreed should be untouched 5 and it
 
 270 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 afterwards occurred to us all, that the expres- 
 sion which we overheard, concerning the girl's 
 father, was in reference to this money. 
 
 " Every avenue leading to or from the village, 
 was well ascertained ; but there was no place 
 which afforded shelter and concealment to 
 forty armed men, so convenient, or so secure as 
 the church. The man who kept the keys, was 
 either bought, or made drunk ; and the keys 
 thus came into the hands of our party. The 
 girl was, from her innocent appearance, the 
 one selected to convey all intelligence ; and 
 hence, as frequently happens, the mask of 
 modesty and virtue, was employed to cover 
 abandonment and vice. The captain having 
 made himself master of the situation of the 
 richest tables, and the best mode of attacking 
 them, loaded us as I have described, every one 
 well armed, and every one carrying a small 
 canvass bag — and popped us in the church. 
 
 " The game continued — sometimes as fortune 
 varied, the bank being successful, and some- 
 times its gold and silver stock gradually di- 
 minishing. At last, it grew towards midnight -,
 
 THE SPITFIRE, 221 
 
 and Carlos, who had, in the church, availed 
 himself of all he sought or desired, and satiated 
 with the society of the girl, came into the 
 vault, caring as little about the dead, over 
 whom we played, as he did about the living, 
 whom he left in tears, awaiting the arrival of 
 the captain. 
 
 '^ ' Come,^ said I, as I saw Carlos enter, 
 * every man in his turn ; I'll keep the bank 
 now.' It was agreed upon, and I emptied 
 my pockets; declaring that I would stand 
 twice or three times that sum — 'which I had 
 on board. Carlos soon elbowed his way to 
 the coffin ; his greedy eyes were upon my 
 money — and he staked his liberally. I won ; 
 and he, unlike any of his countrymen, betrayed 
 considerable anger ; he blasphemed fortune, 
 and called upon the dead to witness that no 
 one was half so unfortunate as himself. His 
 companions looked on in silence ; the play 
 was entirely between him and myself. The 
 vault re-echoed with his curses 3 and although 
 the girl came and implored him to be more 
 quiet and return to her, he only grew the
 
 272 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 more impetuous. He drank largely of brandy, 
 but it had no effect upon his brain. 
 
 " It was now midnight — which one of the 
 crew mentioned — adding, that a church at 
 that hour was generally inhabited by the dead, 
 who walked about the long aisles, or sat list- 
 lessly on the chairs. The girl heard voices, 
 and warned the crew that the captain was ap- 
 proaching. ^ Once more,' said Carlos, * my 
 all — ^here — on board — my share of to-night*s 
 plunder.' I agreed, and dealt the cards. The 
 first, was a nine — the second, the four of clubs 
 — which last card, you know, has always been 
 with us called the devil^s bedpost. 
 
 '^ ' I'm for the four,* said Carlos ; ' and as 
 the devil and I have always been friends, I'U 
 back it with all I have.' I turned the pack 
 over, and began to take the cards from the 
 bottom. His eyes were close to the pack — 
 I drew the cards cautiously down, and the 
 nine won. In his fury, he jumped upon the 
 coffin, cursing all around him. The lid gave 
 way — and the pale face of the corpse appeared 
 to us all ! Can I ever forget that moment ?
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 273 
 
 A rush was made, and the other coffin 
 was upset, from which rolled the body of a 
 man; his beard had grown since his death, 
 and never do I remember to have seen so 
 horrid a sight ! 
 
 " My money fell upon the corpse of the 
 woman ; and, accustomed as I was to the 
 dead, I did not dare touch it. We all, except- 
 ing Carlos, endeavoured to gain the door of the 
 church 5 but from the time he remained below, 
 and the noise of money which we heard, we 
 all thought Carlos recovered his losses, and 
 from the corpse stole a golden heart. He 
 would, could he have made money by it, have 
 severed the heads, and walked away with them, 
 one under each arm.'^ 
 
 " And how did the attack prosper ?" 
 '^ Well, — but, as I told you, the captain lost 
 his hfe, and by the hand of Carlos. When 
 he summoned us to the attack, the fresh air — 
 the removal from the vault — the distance from 
 the dead— all inspired us with courage. The 
 boats were ordered round to another point 
 nearer the village, which, as we passed, was 
 
 n3
 
 274 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 pointed out to us as the place to which we 
 were to retreat, in the event of our meeting 
 with any unexpected resistance. We were 
 left concealed, for the moment, behind an 
 empty booth, in which some of the early 
 people had been dancing, and which was now 
 deserted. The captain gave the signal at the 
 moment the stakes were the heaviest; we made 
 a rush — the players scampered away, — and the 
 booty was soon in our bags. We cleared four 
 tables, and all went on well ; but, unfortu- 
 nately, the father of the girl was seen by the 
 captain to seize some of the spoil and take 
 it to his house. As this was considered 
 against the agreement, he ordered four of his 
 men to follow him, whilst the rest, most un- 
 ceremoniously, were employed emptying the 
 pockets of every person they could meet. 
 
 " The riot was at its height; a general 
 shrieking of women carrying their children 
 away from the village, added to the fears of 
 those who were attacked; and our booty was 
 most considerably increased by the plunder 
 of some of the houses.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. QjS 
 
 " In the meantime, Carlos had followed the 
 four, who were to force the accomplice to 
 reUnquish his ill-gotten gains. At the thres- 
 hold was the girl ; she was now dressed in her 
 proper clothes ; her long hair floated over her 
 shoulders, and her eyes sparkled like large 
 stars in the darkest night. The captain seized 
 hold of her rudely and put her aside ; Carlos 
 supported her. ' Now, lads,' said the captain, 
 ' clear the house out.^ 
 
 " ' Avast, there ! ' said Carlos, ^ remember 
 the agreement ; this house is not to be touched ; 
 you pledged yourself to Francisca, and so have 
 I.' 
 
 " ' By the saint at whose shrine we knelt 
 in the church, when without the priest you 
 made me your wife/ said the girl, ^ protect 
 us!' 
 
 " ' To the last,' said Carlos, ^ fear not, my 
 little one, the man who passes here must walk 
 over my body.' 
 
 " ^ Ruffian ! — villain ! — traitor ! — mutineer !' 
 cried the captain, ' this to your heart !' The 
 blow was parried from Carlos, and struck the
 
 276 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 girl, who Carlos believed was killed. It was 
 returned, and the captain was a corpse. 
 
 " ' Now lads/ said Carlos, with the greatest 
 coolness, ' now my wife is dead, I'll take her 
 dower from her father ;' and walking into the 
 house, he brought out every doubloon, and left 
 the accomphce to mourn for the loss of his 
 daughter and his money.''
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " I TELL you/' said Rawlinson, as he ad- 
 dressed his proud son-in-law, "it must be 
 done ; Laura Mackenzie must be invited here. 
 Through her we may secure Herbert ; and by 
 having him near us, we may soothe the old 
 man. She maintains him; and through her 
 alone can we reach Herbert.'* 
 
 " What an adventure, Rawlinson. I am 
 lost in the numerous circumstances attending 
 it. My brother, a deserter — nay, driven to 
 commit a robber)^ — and I, the guilty cause. 
 Look at me ! — do I appear a man at peace 
 with himself? Does all this wealth bring me 
 nights of sleep and hours of happiness ? The 
 further I advance, the more I have to appre-
 
 278 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 hend ; and the guilty man has not one moment 
 free from uneasiness.'^ 
 
 " Read your bible, Sir Ronald ; the greatest 
 sinners invariably become the greatest saints. 
 What is to be gained by any other course but 
 contempt — abject poverty — the peacock strip- 
 ped of his feathers, to be loathed, hated, 
 despised. Come, come, Sir Ronald, I shall 
 begin to distrust you — and then, if rogues fall 
 out " 
 
 '• Honest men get their due. I must ad- 
 vance — I cannot retreat: but I would fain 
 relieve myself from som.e of my misgivings, 
 by settling some permanent sum upon my 
 brother.'' 
 
 " Settle him elsewhere; settle him abroad, 
 at the King's expense. Whilst he lives — 
 whilst he can remain in this country, we hold 
 our wealth with a very slender grasp. Be- 
 sides, what he might spend, I can distribute 
 amongst my creditors." 
 
 " What ! never satisfied ; the wealth of 
 Croesus would be useless to supply your extra- 
 vagance.^'
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 279 
 
 " Faith, that is not bad. I do not spend 
 half of our fortune, — whilst you have to pen- 
 sion Blackburn and others, who know how 
 to be discreet, even before a magistrate .^^ 
 
 " He could not injure me ; I swore him to 
 the fact that he could not identify the person 
 who walked with Herbert." 
 
 " Why endeavour to console yourself? — 
 Herbert lives. If he speaks out, the corrobo- 
 rative testimony of Blackburn would be con- 
 firmation strong as holy writ." 
 
 " In which you do not believe. I have a 
 son — that binds me more to my crime — I 
 would leave him heir to this princely estate ; 
 for when I and your daughter are gone, and 
 some well paid flatterer of the dead tells of my 
 virtue — my liberality — my justice — I would 
 have my son inherit all the respect such a cha- 
 racter inspires — without the shame attendant 
 on the forgerer — the robber.'^ 
 
 " Pshaw ! the best epitaph I ever heard was 
 this :
 
 280 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 ** Three lovelier babes you ne'er did see 
 Than God Almighty give to me ; 
 They was took ill of ague fits, 
 And here they lies — as dead as nits.*' 
 
 Am 1 to tell my daughter to write to Laura 
 Mackenzie ?" 
 
 " If you say it must be so. But I dread the 
 eye, even of a young girl ; I fear my own sha- 
 dow ; and not a soul passes those great gates, 
 but I feel as if the ofiicers of justice were at 
 hand." 
 
 " God bless me/' said Rawlinson, " what a 
 penitent man. Well, before I die, I'll make a 
 clean bosom — I'll confess myself to myself, — 
 and I shall be my own father confessor, and 
 absolve myself of all sin, crime and improper 
 thoughts." 
 
 " Do go, Rawlinson ; go and let your daugh- 
 ter invite Laura Mackenzie, and tell her to send 
 some money; leave me to myself — the only 
 person, besides yourself, I would most gladly 
 fly from.'' 
 
 " Books, books. Sir Ronald; we must be 
 friends, you know. By the bye, I'll talk of
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 281 
 
 my own aiFairs another time. Good evening ; 
 we shall see you^ I suppose, at dinner." 
 
 " If the earth could open/' said Sir Ronald 
 to himself, as his associate withdrew, " and 
 swallow up the whole world — omitting in its 
 insatiate gulf that one man — there would be 
 left enough of wickedness of thought — enough 
 comprehensiveness of crime to demoralize the 
 new generation, even were they as numerous as 
 the ants which now inhabit the earth. He asks 
 me to dinner in my own house — he thinks it 
 hard he does not spend the half of my fortune 
 — and, in every step I take, I can trace the 
 watchful vigilance of this man. My wife, too, 
 she clings to him more than to me. Oh that I 
 could rid myself of this cursed birr — shake off 
 this second self, from which I can no more 
 escape than from my shadow." 
 
 " Write it directly, my child," said Rawhn- 
 son to his daughter ; " we shall be more se- 
 cure, by securing her.^' 
 
 They were alone, in a small room which 
 commanded a distant view of the sea ; there 
 was a long telescope, mounted on a stand,
 
 282 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 which stood upon the table near this window, 
 and from words which escaped Lady de Lancy, 
 her principal occupation was looking at any 
 passing vessel, and killing time by avoiding, as 
 far as possible, all thought of her situation. 
 She had gleaned from her father, who, indeed, 
 saw the necessity of intrusting her with some 
 part of the secret, that her title was not the 
 most secure; and that, under any circum- 
 stances, Albert must be kept away. It was 
 now doubly requisite to intrust her more fully ; 
 through her, Rawhnson counted upon gaining 
 all the requisite information, and the daughter 
 implicitly followed his directions. 
 
 " She is a nice girl, my dear," he began, 
 " and a good companion for you. She will 
 dissipate some of the gloom which hangs about 
 you. Alone, you get fanciful, and, perhaps, 
 fearful ; but with another of your own sex, the 
 rides, the walks, the house, will be less lonely 
 ^— less melancholy.'' 
 
 ^' Heaven knows, my dear father, I would 
 ten thousand times rather have wedded your 
 clerk, and shared your house, than have be-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 283 
 
 come a great lady, inclosed in a splendid 
 prison. There is not a soul who visits here, 
 excepting occasionally Mr. Molesworth; and 
 when he christened young Ronald, he was as 
 inquisitive as if he doubted my being its mo- 
 ther. He refused to have the ceremony per- 
 formed but in the church — and kept his eye 
 upon Sir Ronald as he passed his father^s 
 vault." 
 
 " Your fancy,'^ replied her father. " People 
 always become suspicious when they are bur- 
 thened with a secret. Tell me, is your hus- 
 band kind to you ? Does that haughty man- 
 ner unbend itself, occasionally ? or is he ever 
 the same thoughtful, reserved, melancholy 
 creature, which, to me, he appears ?" 
 
 " The same ever ! we are married, it is true ; 
 but there is no confidence between us — I am 
 here the lady of Raven Castle ; yet I am as 
 little heeded by the servants as a governess 
 might be ; those poor creatures, who are just 
 inferior to their employers, and a shade above 
 the servants, looked down upon by one party 
 and not reverenced by the other. If 1 order
 
 284 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 any thing, that order is not obeyed. My wish 
 is communicated to Sir Ronald ; and under his 
 direction, perhaps, it is gratified. But all my 
 rides, my walks, my airings, are circumscribed. 
 I must not approach the village ; and scarce 
 dare venture to the cliffs. On my return I am 
 not questioned as to my ride ; but every thing 
 is gleaned from my servants. My own maid 
 watches me ; and when I move from room to 
 room I hear a door open behind me — or see 
 one close before me. Father, I have become 
 a wretch to save you." 
 
 " The duty of all good daughters. We are 
 rich, instead of poor ; powerful, instead of sub- 
 servient ; respected, instead of despised. We 
 are in this life to shape our course according to 
 the popular will and feeling : to be poor is to 
 be criminal. Fear not, Margaret ,• I will speak 
 to Sir Ronald.'' 
 
 ^' Not for the world ! in marriage no third 
 party, not even a father ought to interfere. 
 It would render him worse; whereas I hope, 
 by an apparent cheerfulness, a mimicry of 
 gladness when the heart is not glad, to win
 
 THE SPITFIRE, 285 
 
 him more to me. You have made me aware 
 how treacherous is the foundation on which we 
 stand : it shall be my care, as it is my interest, 
 to strengthen it." 
 
 ^^ Good girl, you have a laudable ambition, 
 We are all in this life struggling to live : he 
 plays his cards the best, who best succeeds ; 
 and as at cards — some play a straight forward 
 game, and perhaps win a little ; others by some 
 trifling sleight of hand — not quite so honest 
 perhaps, but much more adroit, become the 
 winners of the larger stakes, and prosper. Life 
 is only a pack of cards well managed ; they 
 are in the wrappers of honesty ; but once un- 
 covered, are the shufflers — and the cuts of 
 existence. About this girl, this Laura Mac- 
 kenzie, is she the simple, thoughtless, open 
 girl she assumes to be ? or is she only disguis- 
 ing the cleverness of woman under that same 
 wrapper of honesty." 
 
 " A poor country girl, I should say — without 
 a spark of cunning, excepting that which your 
 wicked sex affirm is bom in us. A modest, 
 pretty, young, unassuming creature, whose ab-
 
 286 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 sence will be a release to her poor mother, and 
 who here can be a companion and a friend." 
 
 " Remember, my object is to lure Herbert 
 back ; but of that we shall have sufficient time 
 to speak. Mention, however, in your letter, 
 your great joy at hearing from me that the 
 good trusty old servant yet lives. Does your 
 husband dine with us to-day ?" 
 
 " I suppose so ; but latterly he has become 
 so absent in his manner, that to avoid suspi- 
 cion he has dismissed the servants from the 
 room, and not unfrequently forgets that he 
 ought to be seated, but walks about, and never 
 utters a word." 
 
 '* The fellow is either mad or is a philoso- 
 pher. Dispatch that letter to night. For the 
 present, good bye ! we meet again at dinner." 
 
 It was winter, and by five o'clock it was 
 dark. When this hour came, Sir Ronald, 
 wrapped in his cloak generally betook himself 
 towards the cliff; and here, not unfrequently, 
 he would stand, regardless of the cold wind, 
 watching the waves, which for a moment chaf- 
 ed and sparkled on the shore, and then were
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 287 
 
 lost for ever. Here, gazing on the large mirror in 
 which the skies were reflected, he was wont to 
 hold converse w^th himself; to ponder over his 
 past life ; and endeavour to draw consolation 
 from the resources of his own mind. What is a 
 man, but a wave, that dances and bubbles for 
 a moment, and then is washed from exis- 
 tence ? Can any man remark the crowds of 
 people which impede the progress in the 
 streets, and not feel his own insignificance, 
 when reflecting, that in a few brief years, every 
 one now hustling through hfe, will be no more ; 
 — that the rising generation shall come and go 
 as wave succeeds the wave — and that even the 
 recollection of men's names shall die away, or 
 only be recorded on a stone which man too 
 often passes without a thought of eternity. 
 
 "To live,'^ said Sir Ronald, as he paused 
 upon the brink of the steep cliff which over- 
 hung the shingly shore, " to live with the ap- 
 prehension of death is dreadful ; if from my 
 mind I could blot out all recollection of the 
 past, I could look forward to futurity as a 
 blessing. Yet why think of that future which
 
 288 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 may never be. Tlie countless millions of ani- 
 mals and insects which live upon the earth, 
 may, for aught we know, have the same hopes 
 — the same fears : they congregate toge- 
 ther ; they live together ; build their houses ; 
 choose their governors, have certain laws and 
 regulations which bind them to their different 
 societies ; and, from their actions, they think. 
 As I walked this day, I marked an ant which 
 had discovered some food : it was too large for 
 this insect to remove ; I saw it depart towards 
 the nest, and on its way it met another ; the 
 prey was then far distant ; they stopped, and evi- 
 dently talked ; the last ant then left the tract it 
 was pursuing and went direct to the prey ; there 
 it remained until many — many came; they 
 then, with as much art as man could divine, 
 carried the bulky morsel to their nest, there to 
 preserve it until winter ! Are these creatures 
 not rational, and if rational why not immortal ? 
 But is man the only creature that treads this 
 earth who is to enjoy futurity ? 1 think not, 
 and if it is extended to all — there scarcely can 
 be an eternity of punishment. Whenever I
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 289 
 
 read the sacred volumes, I tremble lest it 
 should be so ; when I consult my own reason 
 and my own pride, I disbeUeve it. The wicked, 
 they say, are the only people who are entirely 
 credulous 5 and they wish to disbelieve what 
 they fear may be true. I am steeped in sin 
 and cannot retract ; I must go forward or die 
 of shame. Oh, that I could feel but one mo- 
 ment of that happiness I have known ere I was 
 acquainted with that devil who lured me into 
 evil." 
 
 Thus pondered Sir Ronald, as he looked to- 
 wards the sea. The cold night wind now 
 warned him to return, and do the honours of 
 his table ; and with the haughty step peculiar 
 to him, he began to retrace his path. 
 
 " Good evening to you, Sir Ronald,^' said a 
 man who had long watched the Baronet. " You 
 need not look over the cliff — for he can't come 
 up again.'' 
 
 It was Blackburn, and the allusion was to 
 Herbert. Sir Ronald took no notice but 
 walked on. 
 
 " I want money for my secresy, Sir Ro- 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 290 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 nald/' said the man, as he walked by his 
 side. 
 
 " How fellow ! you dare not rob me !" 
 *' No, nor push you over the cliff either, — 
 but I dare speak out — and will. Do you think 
 I am not going to gain by my knowledge ? Be 
 prudent : the world says you are wise : put a 
 golden muzzle on the dog who might bite you. 
 I want but little ; and will have it." 
 
 " What have I to fear from you ? to-morrow 
 you shall leave your cottage ; you shall no lon- 
 ger be a tenant or a labourer of mine ; and I 
 will save you these nightly walks, perhaps, to 
 light other fires for the safe guidance of smug- 
 glers.^^ 
 
 " Well, Sir Ronald, be it so ! and to-morrow 
 I will boldly tell how Herbert disappeared.^' 
 " He Uves, fool ! and is in Cornwall.'^ 
 " Then, perhaps, he will say if I speak truth 
 or not." 
 
 This answer, which so nearly corresponded 
 with the reasoning of Rawlinson, led Sir Ro- 
 nald to think that Blackburn had been tam- 
 pered with.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 291 
 
 " Fool!'' said Sir Ronald, " do I not hold 
 your own deposition, signed with your own 
 hand, in which you swore you could not 
 identify the man ?" 
 
 '^ That's true enough, and what of that ? 
 I have already been believed a thief, a mur- 
 derer — and now I shall get a better name and 
 only be called a liar.'* 
 
 " I will give you some money, Blackburn, if 
 you will answer me one question." 
 
 " Say its gold, and I'll answer any one you 
 can ask." 
 
 " There, are you satisfied ?" Blackburn nod- 
 ded assent. " Now, tell me, when did you speak 
 to Mr. Rawlinson last ?" 
 
 " About two hours ago." 
 
 '^ And on what subject ?" 
 
 " You only paid for the one question. I 
 have enough money now — more would lead to 
 suspicion ; when this is expended, I will come 
 to you and sell my information. Good night, 
 Sir Ronald, I do not think I shall leave either 
 your house, or your service to-morrow. Bless 
 you, I am much too useful to some one else!" 
 
 O 2
 
 2D2 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 The Sturdy vagabond walked oflf, leaving Sir 
 Ronald to wonder at the fellowship of crime, 
 and how little confidence was to be placed in 
 scoundrels. Then even Rawlinson desired more 
 money, and in spite of long continued firm- 
 ness of resolution. Sir Ronald at last gave 
 way; he was then left to his pride and his 
 books, with a sneering recommendation of 
 Rawlinson to be very prudent and discreet, 
 and to pay those who serve him well. 
 
 Two years had elapsed since the above scene 
 took place ; and, with the exception of an al- 
 lowance paid to Blackburn, who never would 
 answer any question at all, the parties conti- 
 nued much in the same situation. Rawlinson 
 lived like a' prince ; his equipage was equal to 
 Sir Ronald's ; his business was totally neglect- 
 ed ; and he travelled about as it suited his 
 convenience ; — but Herbert had not arrived 
 nor had Laura accepted the invitation. 
 
 x\t the expiration of the above time, 
 Lady de Lancy received the following let- 
 ter.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 293 
 
 " Rose Cottage, near Tniro. 
 
 " My dear Lady de Lancy, 
 " I have no words to thank you for your 
 frequent pressing invitations, for I am borne 
 down by grief and poverty. The great conso- 
 lation in affliction is the pouring out of one's 
 heart to another. It is now four months since 
 my poor mother was taken suddenly ill : she 
 never left her bed until last week, when she 
 was removed to her last resting place. She is 
 dead and buried ; and I am alone and almost 
 friendless ! If she has left me no inheritance in 
 wealth, she has left me that which surpasses 
 wealth — she has taught me how to hve and 
 how to die. When, at the close of her long life, 
 her respiration difficult, her utterance feeble, 
 she became aware that the lamp was nearly 
 out — her hours nearly completed. ^ My child,' 
 she said, ' may He who tempers the wind to 
 the shorn lamb, watch over you, guide and 
 protect you ! my money will be your money, 
 unless some unforeseen disaster robs you of it ; 
 my reputation wiU be yours, to guard, to pro- 
 tect. You know best how I have lived, and
 
 294 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 how calmly I die. Let not the poorer than 
 yourself regret my loss ; believe me, the hand 
 that receives feels not half the gratification of 
 that which bestows charity. To the great and 
 rich, charity is a name ; it means the giving of 
 that which is of little value to the donor — and 
 given as an obligation. True charity is that 
 you will practise : you will rob yourself of a 
 comfort to alleviate greater distress than you 
 suffer ; for a moment it may deprive you of a 
 comfort ; but at this hour it will return you 
 your wealth ten thousand fold, for you will 
 feel that your wealth is in heaven. I have 
 more strength left than I had thought; — listen 
 — you will soon be deprived of her, who 
 watched your infancy — who was your compa- 
 nion, your friend, your mother. I have in- 
 structed you in religion — I have taught you, as 
 I believe this moment may convince you, its 
 value. I yield up my soul, not in confidence, 
 but with a well-grounded hope of a glorious 
 hereafter. I would have you follow, what I feel 
 at this awful moment to be true;— -of your 
 wordly conduct be this your consolation, happi-
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 295 
 
 ness does not consist in riches ; it is engen- 
 dered in the well-regulated mind, and is capa- 
 ble of being imparted to others. The lower 
 order of people, who have ample employment, 
 and enough to satisfy hunger, are far happier 
 than the rich and great 3 sigh not then for 
 more than you have; but be contented with 
 that which has contented me. When I am 
 removed, you had better change your residence 
 for some time ; but never forget this humble 
 home, or this hour, the last of my life, and the 
 most useful of yours. Remember, child, you 
 have no parent left to stand as a barrier be- 
 tween you and eternity ; all are swept away — 
 and you must follow. To that last moment 
 direct your mind when young, and God will not 
 desert you when you are old. Now read my 
 prayers — and I will follow the words with all 
 my heart, with all my soul, and with all my 
 strength — place your hands to cover mine, and 
 hold them up to my God as the last sign of 
 my humble mind.^ 
 
 " I knelt by the bedside ; I took her hands ; 
 I read— at first she followed audibly — her ut-
 
 296 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 terance grew fainter and fainter ; but the lips 
 moved. I read to the end of our nightly prayer 
 — and, as I slackened my grasp of her chilly 
 hands, as 1 finished with — * be with us now 
 and for ever' — before I could say that last 
 ' amen/ my mother was a corpse. — I cannot 
 tell why I did not burst into tears, why I did 
 not throw myself upon the body and kiss it ; 
 for I felt a calmness, a resignation, a power 
 within me I had never felt — there was but one 
 person in the room, and he was by our side^ 
 and knelt with us at that awful moment— it 
 was Herbert — to him the shock of seeing one 
 some years younger than himself die was great, 
 —-but he became my guardian and protector — 
 he called in those who manage the last cere- 
 mony, he set up himself with the corpse, and 
 I heard him pray, that his last hour might be 
 like this when his mind was unburthened of 
 the heavy secret it contained. 
 
 " I followed my mother to the grave, and be- 
 fore I had learnt even to believe she was not 
 present, her brother sent a solicitor to claim 
 the property. He said her will was a useless
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 297 
 
 document as it was illegal, and he wished me to 
 leave it with him. At this moment Herbert 
 interfered, and taking it from my hands, said : 
 " I will keep it for Miss Laura ; if it is useless, 
 you cannot require iV I was warned to quit 
 the house within a month ; I have no adviser, 
 no friend but yourself; if now you would re- 
 ceive me, Sir Ronald might, by his advice, and 
 your father's counsel, save me from irretriev- 
 able ruin, and you add an additional favor to 
 many acts of kindness experienced by, 
 ^^ Your*s very truly, 
 
 " Laura Mackenzie." 
 
 Rawlinson was present when the letter arriv- 
 ed ; he clasped his hands with joy ; the poor 
 destitute girl would apply to him ! and what 
 was a young innocent creature in worldly wit 
 and cunning, to oppose one who had all his life 
 been a villain. Herbert, and the allusion to 
 the secret, was a point of deeper interest, and 
 after a conference with Sir Ronald, he returned 
 to his daughter and dictated the following 
 letter ; but he said : " All the part, my dear 
 
 03
 
 298 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 Margaret, about death, and sorrow, and such 
 like, you had better compose — women manage 
 these things better than men ; they are always 
 so full of words, tears, sorrows, regrets, and 
 such like ; so just while I finish a bottle of the 
 Baronet's claret do you begin the letter, and 1 
 will dictate the material part/' 
 
 " Raven Castle. 
 " My dearest Laura, 
 " I cannot tell you how sincerely, how deep- 
 ly, 1 am interested in your present melancholy 
 situation. I joined in your tears, and I felt as 
 deeply, and as sensibly, as one person could 
 feel for another. These trials, my dear Laura, 
 must be borne with fortitude, for it is useless 
 to repine at what cannot be averted ; but the 
 loss of a parent, so good, so excellent as yours, 
 is a blow hard to survive. I have read her 
 last advice four times ; 1 have learnt it by 
 heart, and I already feel myself better for the 
 instruction ; her last words will ever be a con- 
 solation to you, whose mind resembles that of 
 your most excellent and exemplary mother.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 299 
 
 " That's quite enough of that stuff,'' said 
 RawUnson, " make a full stop and begin a new 
 paragraph.'* 
 
 " It will give me the greatest pleasure, and 
 satisfaction, to see you here, for as long a 
 time, as it suits you to stay : I cannot but 
 think you would sooner be restored to your 
 usual serenity of mind, by an immediate ab- 
 sence from the place in which you have lately 
 experienced so severe, so bitter a loss, and I 
 hope and trust that I shall be able to alleviate 
 your sufferings as 1 shall use my utmost efforts 
 to that effect.'' 
 
 " There," said Rawlinson that's quite enough 
 of that; make short paragraphs, and write a 
 clear hand ;— now go on. 
 
 " My father has desired me to say, that 
 he will give his undivided attention to your 
 affairs; — he fears that some deceit has been 
 practised, but he pledges himself to unravel the 
 mystery. He begs that the will may be kept in 
 Herbert's possession who will be required to 
 make oath, that it has not been out of his cus- 
 tody since your sainted mother's death —
 
 300 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 and that as he will, of course, accompany you 
 here, the affidavit can be made before Sir 
 Ronald, as the document would be then given 
 up. We are quite alone, and I shall make it a 
 point not to see any company until you feel 
 that a slight variation may contribute to your 
 happiness." 
 
 '' Now," continued Rawlinson, " give her a 
 touch of your husband's partiality for her ; to 
 be sure he would as soon see the devil, as 
 any thing black ; and then finish your letter, as 
 a composer does a tune, with the first part a 
 little varied." 
 
 '' My husband is most anxious to see you ; 
 although generally reserved upon all points, he 
 could not be silent upon your afi^airs ; he says 
 he will assist my father in seeing justice done 
 you ; for he added, ' she was always a favorite 
 of mine, and I loved to hear her sweet and 
 beautiful voice.* I trust you will excuse my 
 comparatively short letter, which I have \\Tit- 
 ten with much pain, as my feelings overcame 
 me. But, my dearest Laura, pray believe me 
 when I say, that I grieve for the loss you have
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 301 
 
 experienced as a sister. I feel for you as a 
 friend, and I most anxiously await your arrival, 
 that you may teach me, with your mother's 
 instruction, to live a charitable and good life, 
 that at the last I may meet my death with all 
 the fortitude, all the hope of your excellent 
 mother. Adieu, for the present, for the mo- 
 ment ; do make haste and come to your very 
 affectionate friend, 
 
 " Margaret de Lancy." 
 
 " Shall I add a postscript about Herbert }" 
 " No, child ; the postscript of a woman's 
 letter always embodies the most essential part. 
 It will look as if Herbert was our greatest aim. 
 Send the girl some money, and mention it 
 now ; it will look like delicacy, and yet be the 
 most essential point. It's quite wonderful how 
 you women string words together, and, gene- 
 rally speaking, how frivolous is the substance. 
 But,^' he continued as he emptied the bottle, 
 " a man, without he is a parson, never 
 makes a good hand of a consolatory epistle.'^ 
 " Do you ride before dinner, Margaret?"
 
 302 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 said de Lancy as he entered ; " pray do not 
 disturb yourself, Rawlinson. Perhaps you 
 would like another bottle of claret at your 
 lunch?" 
 
 *^ Not to-day, my good son, or I should 
 have called for it. Ride, Margaret 5 I have 
 some papers to arrange, and some of those 
 daily visitations which sicken the heart of man 
 — ' bills to pay.' How I wish that gold 
 could be drawn from the well, as easy as 
 water." 
 
 *^ It does not give you much trouble," re- 
 plied Sir Ronald, in his bitter manner, " either 
 to find, or to draw it." 
 
 " And when I do, good son, I am sure you 
 will be too happy to draw it for me." 
 
 The letter reached its destination by the 
 post ; and Laura thanked good fortune, that, 
 in her distress, she had found some good 
 friends willing to receive and assist her. Her- 
 bert was in the house, and heard the letter 
 read; a smile passed over his face as he listened 
 to the part relative to the will, but he made no 
 remark.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 303 
 
 *^ Come, good Herbert/' said Laura ; " let 
 us leave this place of mourning — the sooner 
 we go the better. At Raven Castle we shall 
 find a home, and near it, if I prosper, I can 
 find a future residence." 
 
 " No doubt of it, Miss, no doubt of it. 
 Miss ; — but I think you know more of friends 
 than you do of dangers and difficulties. Ex- 
 cuse me. Miss, 1 am an old man — I once 
 thought, a tried and a trustworthy one ; but I 
 found myself so much in the way at Raven 
 Castle, that even the cliffs were too close to 
 the house. I will never return there until 
 Master Albert is the lord of the Manor." 
 
 " Alas, Herbert," repHed Laura, " that will 
 never be ; there is now an heir to the estate, in 
 young Ronald." 
 
 " And one before him," suddenly inter- 
 rupted Herbert, " in Master Albert. Even 
 if I die, what I have told you, is on paper, 
 and I have no doubt that Mr. Moles worth 
 would soon interfere. No, no. Miss ; I will 
 keep the will until I can get a solicitor, who 
 I know will not let an hour elapse be-
 
 304 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 fore he comes, — ^he knows all the business 
 already, — and I am to keep possession until 
 the new claimant can make good his claim. 
 What ! is it right for the shepherd to forsake 
 his flock, and leave the wolf to seek his prey 
 in security ? Your maid will be sufficient pro- 
 tection for you ; — no Englishman would insult 
 one so young, and one in such affliction ! 
 Here, without Mr. Law alters his mind, I 
 stay; and if they get me out without a com- 
 pany of foot soldiers, or two-and-twenty con- 
 stables, my name is not Old Herbert.'^ 
 
 At this important moment, Mr Law ap- 
 peared. He was a short man with a bald 
 head, neatly dressed, and with an eye as bright 
 and as sparkling as a star. " This is the gentle- 
 man. Miss ; you had better be guided by him, 
 than by Mr. Rawlinson." 
 
 The case was soon made known, which Her- 
 bert had the day previous endeavoured to ex- 
 plain. 
 
 " Show me the will," said Mr. Law. 
 
 Laura read that part of the letter which 
 alluded to its safe custody.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 305 
 
 " Pooh !" went the little man, " what's the 
 use of a will, if it's locked up in a drawer ? It 
 must be proved/' Herbert at once oflfered 
 it. 
 
 " Ah !" began Mr. Law, as he stuck his 
 spectacles on, which made his eyes look 
 brighter than before. " A bad case, I have no 
 doubt ; written with her own hand, and, con- 
 sequently, some informalities — something con- 
 fused — something irregular ; — its very odd that 
 ladies cannot consult men, whose business it 
 is to protect them, to draw up a document 
 which would make them easy when alive, and 
 prevent disputes when they are dead. ' This 
 is the last will and testament,' copied from a 
 book, I suppose," said Mr. Law, in a low 
 running bass voice, " ^ of Mary Mackenzie,' 
 was your mother's name, Mary ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Laura, as the big tear 
 started from her eye, and coursed rapidly down 
 her face. 
 
 " Don't cry, my dear Miss Mackenzie," said 
 Law ; " I am aware of your heavy loss. I ask 
 merely that I may see we are right as we pro-
 
 306 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 ceed ; and believe me when I say, that to the 
 orphan in affliction, Mr. Law never yet said 
 a word, intentionally, to wound, or sent in a 
 bill to plunder." He took her hand. '' In 
 me,'' he continued, " you will find a friend — 
 not a pilferer; a protector — not one to live 
 upon your ruin. Excuse my manner, it may 
 be rough, but it is not intentional, if I am rude 
 either in remarks or in my manner ;'' he gave 
 Laura's hand a gentle squeeze, whilst old 
 Herbert's voice was heard just above a whis- 
 per, " God bless him ; he's no more like an 
 attorney, than I'm like a bishop. '^ 
 
 ^^ It's my nature — not my inclination." 
 
 " Let us see," he continued. " Ah, Mary 
 Mackenzie — had she any other name ?" 
 
 " None," said Laura, in a subdued voice. 
 
 " Good, so far. Humph, rather a bad hand 
 for a copying clerk ; written when she must 
 have been ill. ^ I, Mary Mackenzie, being in 
 sound health and vigor of mind,' ah, that 
 ought to have come first, but better late than 
 never ; ' do thus dispose of all my property, 
 real or personal, and of all I possess, in goods.
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 307 
 
 chattels, or of any kind of property whatsoever, 
 which I may be possessed of at my death ;* 
 terrible confusion, but not altogether unintel- 
 ligible — strong minded woman, though. Pray 
 don't cry. Miss Laura; it hinders me from 
 seeing through my spectacles. ' And I, Mary 
 Mackenzie, do by this, my last will and testa- 
 ment, revoke, annul, and render void and of no 
 effect, any previous will or testament and all 
 letters, writings, sayings,' determined to have 
 enough of it here, at any rate, ' which I might 
 have formerly made, written, or spoken ; and 
 this alone is to be my last will and testament ; 
 I give and bequeath unto my dear daughter, 
 Laura Mackenzie, all my property, real or per- 
 sonal, goods or chattels,' it ought to have been 
 and, instead of, or ; it seems like a choice ; 
 ' and to her, and to her alone, do I so bequeath 
 it, and I further make her my sole executrix.^ 
 A curious concern surely ; but, perhaps, good 
 enough. It is dated — three witnesses — ah ! — 
 well ! — pity a lawyer did not make it. Women 
 should never make their own wills — they so 
 seldom know their own minds.''
 
 3C8 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 Having delivered himself of this pretty spe- 
 cimen of his knowledge of the fair sex, he 
 looked over the will again, folded it up, placed 
 it in his pocket, wiped his spectacles and cased 
 them, — then stirring the fire and placing him- 
 self before it, began humming a tune, in a 
 manner so perfectly absent, as rather to alarm 
 Laura. Herbert stood in the corner, watching 
 Mr. Law, but Mr. Law was quite insensible 
 to the scrutiny. At last, he finished his tune, 
 and then passing his hand before his forehead, 
 began : — " I will be much obliged to you. Miss 
 Mackenzie, if you will answer my questions, 
 just ^ yes/ or ' no ;' the fewer words, the 
 easier they are remembered; and long sen- 
 tences, especially if they are confused, em- 
 barrass me.^' Laura looked at him, as much 
 as to say, " Ask." 
 
 " Do you know if your mother ever made 
 a will, with the exception of this one ?" 
 
 " Some time ago, my mother " 
 
 Here she was interrupted by Mr. Law hum- 
 ming a tune; she took the hint, and said, 
 " Yes.''
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 309 
 
 " Ah/' said Law, " that's something like^ — 
 short and sensible. When ?'^ 
 
 '^ About two years ago." 
 
 " About ; does that mean more, or less ?'' 
 
 Laura recollected herself, and then said : 
 " It is two years and one month, exactly ; that 
 is within a day or two — more or less." 
 
 Mr. Law smiled. 
 
 " Who was present ?" 
 
 " My uncle." 
 
 " Have you ever seen him since ?'* 
 
 « No." 
 
 " You are are certain it was more than one 
 year past.'' 
 
 " Certain." 
 
 " Good bye ; go to Raven Castle ; — no, 
 stop — you are left sole executrix. You must 
 come with me to London. Your servant will be 
 with you,— be ready to-morrow. Herbert, 
 come here ; now mind what I say ; you are to 
 remain in this house, and mind you never 
 leave it, so as to allow any one else to gain 
 possession of it.'' 
 
 The next day Mr. Law came to the cot-
 
 310 THE SPITFIRE. 
 
 tage in his chariot. Laura and her maid took 
 their seats, arrived in London, and drove to a 
 brother of Mr. Law. The next day, it was 
 found requisite to enter a caveat against the 
 will before mentioned, which the uncle had put 
 in ; and, as now, the law's delays must be 
 awaited, and Laura could be of no use in town, 
 she started for and safely arrived at Raven 
 Castle. She was received warmly by Mar- 
 garet, who sighed for a companion to break 
 through the long solitude to which she had 
 been condemned. But Rawlinson, when he 
 saw the prey had eluded his grasp, that Her- 
 bert was not in the slender retinue, became 
 sulky and morose ; even he was baffled by the 
 foresight of an old man whom he had despised 
 and feared. Sir Ronald was as cold and 
 haughty as usual ; he endeavoured, on seeing 
 the deep mourning and the pale beautiful face 
 beneath the sombre bonnet, to become some- 
 what more amiable, but it was a vain attempt 
 —he could not overcome his nature, — and 
 having made his speech of welcome, which 
 would have frozen any unaccustomed person,
 
 THE SPITFIRE. 311 
 
 he withdrew to his own room, took down a 
 musty volume, and set seriously to work to 
 satisfy himself that, after death, there was a 
 total annihilation, and that in this world — how- 
 ever deep the guilt — the punishment was the 
 secret sting of conscience, and the constant 
 fear of detection. Against this persuasion his 
 sense revolted, but there were writers who had 
 maintained the point ; and if he could persuade 
 himself to believe it — why he cared little about 
 his former errors. It is a creed which ex- 
 cessive guilt alone can credit ; and from the 
 moment a man does believe it, he may be 
 restrained from crime by the fear of the gal- 
 lows, but never from the apprehension that 
 the eye of an all-seeing Providence watches his 
 ways and records his errors. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SCHULZE AND CO. 13, POLAND STREET.