a I B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 UNIVLR.5ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V. 1
 
 
 ^
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 iiV 
 
 THE HON. HENRY COKE, 
 
 AUTHOR in- 
 
 ^'HIGH AND LOW.' 
 A RIDE OVER THE RO C K Y M U N T AI N S," 
 
 &c.. &c. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREKT. 
 
 1858. 
 
 The right of Translation is reserved.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 R. BORN, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, PARK STREET, 
 
 CAMDEN TOWN.
 
 
 4 
 
 '^ A WILL AND A WAT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Montezuma had his fish for dinner fi:'esh 
 out of the sea every day. The journey be- 
 tween the city of Mexico and the coast — the 
 same which Montezuma's footmen traversed 
 three centuries and a-half ago — is now with 
 difficulty performed in fifty hours by a Spanish 
 diligencia. This can hardly be called pro- 
 ^* gression in any sense. Yet is it pretty 
 much the rate at which Spanish matters 
 ?,^enerally speed, for, above whatsoever soil 
 her imperial standard waves, its influence is 
 felt like the shade of the deadly upas. 
 
 Continental diligences are lumbering enough, 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 as we all know ; but if a man be rich he can 
 travel in the coupe ; if romantic or poor — ^the 
 states are allied — in the banquette ; and still, 
 should he belong to neither of these great 
 families into which Sancho's mother divided 
 the whole human race — viz., el tener and 
 el no tener — a choice is left of the rotonde, 
 or the interieur. But your Spanish diligence— 
 I speak of those which roll between the coast 
 and the Mexican capital — is all interieur — ^the 
 most corpulent piece of goods you ever set 
 eyes on. The places, nine in number, are 
 ranged in three rows — the middlemost being 
 between the doors and windows. The roof of 
 the carriage is low. The seats are inhumanly 
 hard, and the springs positively nominal. For 
 the most part this conveyance is crammed 
 full. Half the journey lies through the tierra 
 caliente, and those who perform it are in 
 the habit of smoking incessantly night and 
 day. 
 
 With this brief advertisement, I will now
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 3 
 
 invite thee, good reader, freely to lend me thy 
 imagination, that I may the better direct it 
 to a perfect conception of such circumstances 
 and characters as it is the purpose of this 
 opening chapter to represent. Not that I 
 would have thee less relying as the story 
 advances; for, should the Muse of Romance 
 herself, inspired with the wit of a Cervantes, 
 the comprehensiveness of a Shakespeare, the 
 satire of a Fielding, the humour of a Sterne, 
 the sublimity of a Dante, the grossness of a 
 Rabelais, or the tragic powers of a Puff, 
 compose a novel for thy special entertain- 
 ment, — without the aid of thy fancy, she might 
 rend her petticoats to shreds, yet would her 
 inspirations or her chagrin alike be cast 
 away. 
 
 Prithee, then, abandon every other conceit, 
 and suffer, for the nonce, one of these Mexi- 
 can diligences to carry thy imagination for a 
 short distance along with its heavier cargo. 
 
 Twenty-four hours, so we will suppose, 
 
 b2
 
 4 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 have already been spent upon the road. The 
 country gradually begins to grow less rugged 
 and sterile. The bleak pine forests, which 
 circumscribe the mountainous regions of the 
 capital, yield to the more fertile lands of the 
 tierra templada, and, not many leagues ahead, 
 though considerably below in point of eleva- 
 tion, extends in glorious richness the glowing 
 surface of a tropic soil. Our coach has yet 
 some six or seven miles to make ere it reaches 
 Perote, the little town where it halts for a 
 single night. Our nine travellers are tired, 
 bruised, smoke-dried, dirty, and, with two or 
 three exceptions, in a peevish humour. One 
 of these exceptions is the first to claim our 
 attention. His position is the most uncom- 
 fortable in the carriage. On his right sits a 
 fat Puebla merchant, on his left, a raw-boned, 
 yellow-faced Mexican militar. At every jolt, 
 and not five minutes elapse but with irritating 
 shock the diligence is flung from one side of 
 the road to the other, the whole weight of
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 5 
 
 the merchant forces the middle passenger's 
 ribs on to the protruding angles of the 
 soldier. Throughout the past night the bulky 
 trader reposed his sleepy carcase upon his 
 suffering neighbour, and each attempt made 
 by the sufferer to lean away was answered by 
 a defensive movement from the militar, whose 
 temper, by nature crabbed, kept him wide 
 awake with spleen, which every concussion 
 served to aggravate. 
 
 Despite these annoyances, our foreigner, 
 for such he plainly was, bore the pleasantest 
 expression of any man in the coach. His 
 features seemed incapable of assuming an un- 
 amiable cast ; yet, with their softness and fine 
 regularity there was no lack of manliness or 
 animation. His figure, notwithstanding its 
 cramped attitude, was obviously both tall and 
 symmetrical. In complexion he was fair. His 
 dress a complete suit of tweed. Between his 
 legs he nursed a double-barrelled rifle, in his 
 belt a revolver ; and, let him travel from Paris
 
 6 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 to Pekin, his country would hardly be mis- 
 taken, since in manner, in looks, and at heart, 
 he was a thorough Englishman. 
 
 In the farthest corner of the diligence sat 
 the companion of this young gentleman, one 
 about fifteen years his senior, and in many 
 respects a striking contrast to the youth. 
 Deferring the description of this person to a 
 fitter season, we will permit the other passen- 
 gers to introduce themselves. 
 
 " Acqui Senores !" shouted the driver from 
 the outside, as he flogged his mules round a 
 sudden turn in the road, ^^ Acqui hay muy 
 mal punto /" (^^ Here is a bad place.'') 
 
 " Would to heaven they (the robbers) might 
 come and steal the gun ! " muttered a discon- 
 tented traveller from the centre row. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Sir," said the young 
 Englishman ; " is the rifle still in your way?" 
 
 '^ The gentleman does not admire fire-arms," 
 explained another, less incommoded by the 
 offensive weapon;" ^^he is muy jpacijico.''^
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 7 
 
 " I wish they'd face us/' chimed in 
 the militavj as he timidly stretched his 
 gaunt neck out of the coach window. 
 "We are all ready for 'em," he added, 
 looking at the priming of an old flint-and-steel 
 pistol. 
 
 ''El senor Capitan is a man of great 
 valour," whispered an admiring voice from 
 the back seat. 
 
 "I'll back this pistol," cried the Capitan, 
 casting a contemptuous glance at the rifle, 
 "against any weapon in the carriage when 
 the robbers do show themselves.'^ 
 
 " Doubtless, Sir," observed the young 
 EngHshman's serious companion, "you have 
 tested its merits before now." 
 
 " Vayaf' ejaculated the captain, which, 
 literally rendered, was to say, " G-et along 
 with you." 
 
 "Weapons are well enough in the hands of 
 soldiers," cries the fat merchant, "but passen- 
 gers should not be permitted to carry a stand
 
 8 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 of arms in a stage-coach. That's what I 
 think about it." 
 
 " You don't mean that you'd submit to be 
 robbed first, and then have your nose rubbed 
 in the mud, would you, Sir ? " exclaimed the 
 proprietor of the rifle, smiling in his sleeve 
 at the various insinuations thrown out to 
 annoy him. 
 
 '^ Without doubt. Sir ; where is the good of 
 resisting ? They will certainly riddle us with 
 bullets if we do ; whereas a few paltry dollars 
 would satisfy their rapacity in a moment." 
 
 '^ If you expect me," said the young man, 
 ^^ to contribute to the support of these gentle- 
 men of the road, because there happens to be 
 a prejudice against fire-arms, I fear. Sir, you 
 will be vastly disappointed." 
 
 '' The English gentleman," murmured one, 
 " surely does not mean to fire ?" 
 
 ^^ Not imless the robbers come," replied the 
 grave man in the corner. 
 
 ^^What a game it would be," said the
 
 A WILL AND A AVAY. 9 
 
 youth in his native tongue to the last speaker, 
 *^if these everlasting robbers should turn up!'' 
 
 " Que dice? What does he say?" eagerly 
 inquired two or three Mexicans at once, 
 leaning forward to catch an explanation. 
 
 ^' He says," gravely returned the interpre- 
 ter, ^' that if the carriage be attacked he shall 
 shoot those first whom he suspects to be in 
 league with the ladrones. But," added he, 
 '' I will endeavour to dissuade him from the 
 intention, though he is a desperate character 
 for all his mild exterior." 
 
 ''Que demoniof" exclaimed the audience 
 in a breath; ^'may the Virgin bring us safe 
 to Perote!" 
 
 In course of time Perote appeared at hand. 
 When he saw it, "Ah!" sighed the militar, 
 putting up his pistol, " there'll be no work 
 for my old comrade to-night. Caramha! Pd 
 have given ten ounzcs (doubloons) for a 
 crack at the thieves, I would ! " 
 
 "What a devil!" exclaimed his admirers.
 
 10 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 And so they reached Perote ; and, rolling, 
 rattling, rumbling through its narrow streets, 
 the unwieldy vehicle safely landed its cargo 
 at "La Fonda de las Diligencias." 
 
 Fortunately, disappointment is only the off- 
 spring of immoderate expectation ; for, where 
 no expectations have been raised, no dis- 
 appointment can succeed. Now, not one of 
 the nine passengers had anticipated anything 
 in the way of comfort different from what 
 they had found in Perote the last time they 
 passed through it. Certainly distance does 
 lend enchantment to every scene ; and ever- 
 springing hope marks its course with a some- 
 what brighter verdure than common. But 
 our travellers were already acquainted with 
 these pretty truisms — so that, when they 
 found Perote as filthy as ever, not a word 
 was said on the matter. 
 
 The Fonda de las Diligencias professed to 
 afford accommodation for man and beast, and 
 this profession it honestly fulfilled ; but which
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 11 
 
 of the two fared better than the other it 
 would be difficult to d§termine. This cir- 
 cumstance, however, did not arise from any- 
 leaning on the landlord's part to that system 
 which many philosophers advocate, and which 
 is known as the " ourang-outang theory." 
 He did not class biped and quadruped in one 
 common family from any physiological bias. 
 He simply found it convenient to bestow as 
 little care as possible upon his customers, and 
 as this practically amounted to nothing at all, 
 men and mules came to fare very much alike. 
 The construction of the building itself was 
 remarkable. The entire ground-floor was ex- 
 clusively devoted to animals, save and except 
 one important corner of it — the kitchen. 
 Above the basement were, or rather are — I 
 describe the thing as it stands — two capacious 
 chambers, one of them filled with beds like 
 a hospital ward, the other serving as La 
 Comeday or eating room ; to this apartment 
 seven of the passengers hurried immediately
 
 12 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 on their arrival. The two Englishmen, to 
 the astonishment of .the rest, did not join the 
 dinner party until they had bathed, and were 
 thoroughly refreshed by a complete change of 
 dress. By this time the return diligence, on 
 its way from the coast, had come in, and the 
 whole of its cargo were seated at the repast 
 with the others, making up together about, 
 fifteen persons. The recent American war 
 formed the topic of general conversation, and 
 here, as in the diligence, our friend the militar 
 was the hero of imaginary battles. But when 
 acts of bravery got to be the favourite theme, 
 it was surprising to discover how many of that 
 company had performed feats which Achilles 
 himself would have trembled to think on. In 
 truth, as they warmed at the thoughts of their 
 own heroism, it seemed that each man there, 
 the Englishmen excepted, who listened and 
 smoked with phlegmatic silence, was panting 
 for an opportunity to display his courage, or 
 confirm his boastings.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 13 
 
 Now, "No man," says the immortal Yorick, 
 " cares to have his virtues the sport of con- 
 tingencies ;" least of all when the contingency 
 is fraught with danger or personal incon- 
 venience. When, therefore, there were heard 
 a sudden rush — a scuffle at the door, and 
 repeated cries of '^ matar lo! matar lof^ "kill 
 him ! " " kill him ! " bursting suddenly into the 
 room — what wonder every man there should 
 turn coward in a moment? Terrified they 
 assuredly were ; some jumped upon the table, 
 others in the scramble upset forms and chairs, 
 tumbling themselves one upon the other, head 
 over heels upon the floor. A few, armed with 
 knives, forks, and even spoons, huddled to- 
 gether in a corner. The militar, flourishing the 
 drumstick of a fowl over his head, had perched 
 himself on the shoulders of an unfortunate, 
 who mistook his burden for the robber ; and 
 the fat Puebla merchant was vainly scrambling, 
 in heat and terror, to reach a higher level, 
 when a large wolf-dog, the cause of all the
 
 14 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 disturbance, fixed his fangs in the fleshy 
 limbs of the overweighted trader, and held 
 him painfully fast from behind. The shrieks 
 which now issued from this unhappy creature 
 were enough to frighten the dog himself, and 
 did very much increase the panic of the whole 
 party. Still the hound kept its hold, until a 
 lifting kick from the shooting-boot of the 
 younger Englishman caused it to let go, and 
 fly, with a spring, at its supposed enemy, 
 his sedate companion. 
 
 This person, who had watched the scene 
 with perfect composure, stood prepared for 
 the fierce attack of the savage animal. As 
 the dog sprung at his throat, the Englishman 
 recoiled a single pace, then, with a tremendous 
 blow of his fist, struck the animal above the 
 chest. In an instant they closed again ; but 
 although the dog managed to tear the collar 
 of the man's coat, the coolness of the latter 
 enabled him to gain a temporary advantage. 
 At that moment his young friend repeated
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 15 
 
 the application of his armed foot, with such 
 effect, that the animal rolled on its side, and 
 lay gasping as if in death. 
 
 Scarcely had the contest been thus decided, 
 when a rough-looking stranger entered the 
 Comeda, and, stepping up to the elder English- 
 man, asked him with a fierce oath, ^^What 
 he meant by killing his dog ? " 
 
 The one thus addressed surveyed the 
 interrogator with a look of surprise, which 
 gradually relaxed into an expression wherein 
 contempt was mixed with pity. ^'Simply, my 
 friend," he quietly replied, '^to hinder your 
 dog fi'om killing me. I do not think he is 
 dead. If, however, you wish him to be better 
 treated, I recommend you to teach him gentler 
 
 manners." 
 
 " They are good enough for such as you," 
 growled the other, reluctant to leave the 
 spot without venting his fierce nature in a 
 quarrel. 
 
 " My friend," returned the Enghshman,
 
 16 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 calmly, though looking a little white with sup- 
 pressed emotion, ^^ you are not polite, but as 
 good breeding is the fruit of education, and 
 this in turn the result of ckcumstances, you 
 are more to be pitied than blamed. There is 
 the door ! " 
 
 '' Perro ! dog!" yelled the other, *^will 
 you insult a Spaniard?" and the words were 
 no sooner out of his mouth than a knife 
 gleamed over the Enghshman's shoulder. 
 
 Happily its murderous descent was stopped. 
 His wary eye had warned him of his danger ; 
 and the wrist that guided the weapon fell 
 harmless into a grasp that would have mas- 
 tered a more powerful resistance. 
 
 While this scene went on — its performance 
 lasted but a minute or so — ^the other travellers 
 kept at safe distances from the combatants. 
 When, however, they saw the ruffianly in- 
 truder disarmed, they unanimously raised the 
 cry of ^' A fuera ! Turn him out!" and 
 rushed up in a body as if to carry theu' threat
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 17 
 
 into execution. The Englishman, seeing their 
 intention, released his hold. But, instead of 
 betaking himself to flight, the desperado 
 turned upon the surrounding bevy with an 
 air of defiance that at once put them all to 
 the rout. Then, addi^essing his conqueror, 
 " Ciudado,^^ said he, ^^ Have a care ! The 
 revenge of a Spaniard is more deadly than the 
 boast of a Mexican." And whisthng his dog, 
 which crawled after him, he descended speedily 
 to the patio, or coral. 
 
 ** Who is this man?" inquired half a dozen 
 voices in an undertone. ^' He must be one 
 of the cahalleros del camino, (gentlemen of 
 the road,)" suggested one. ^^He is as unsafe 
 as his dog," said another. " Yes ! they are 
 a sweet pair." " Certes ! they should both 
 be chained up." ^^ To the branch of a tree." 
 " Caramba I But the ciichiUo (knife) was near 
 letting daylight into the Englishman." ^^ But 
 Que! homhre ! Didn't you see how fast 
 the other held him? I'll warrant ye the 
 
 VOL. L - - C
 
 18 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 cahallero doesn't forget that grip in a hurry." 
 ^* He swore to remember it whether or no." 
 ^' I would like to know who he is, though." 
 
 ^^ Hist !" said the militar, with a mysterious 
 sign, bespeaking caution. Then, after a timid 
 look towards the door, " Don't you know who 
 that is?" 
 
 ^^ No ! Who ?" exclaimed all together. 
 
 '' Carajo !''' swore the militar, "that's the 
 terriblest ladrone in the Eepublic. That's 
 Vasquez ! " 
 
 '^ Vasquez ! " echoed the audience, turning 
 pale at the mention of the dreaded name. 
 
 " Vasquez !" repeated the elder Englishman, 
 his face suddenly lighting up with intense and 
 even painful concern, 
 
 "The very same," returned the militar ; 
 " he who was an officer in the Spanish army, 
 and is now the terror of every soldier — I 
 mean of every traveller — in the country. But 
 where is the Englishman gone? The man 
 must be mad ! As sure as he breathes, the
 
 A AVILL AND A WAY. 19 
 
 next time he falls in with Yasquez he'll find 
 Satan himself at his back." 
 
 ^' Does anybody know more of this fellow 
 than his service in the army ? '' 
 
 " Vayal" cried the militar, " I can tell you 
 all about him." 
 
 " Is there not some story of his murdering 
 the daughter of an Englishman ? " 
 
 ^* No, no ! You have it wrong. Though, 
 now I come to think on it, this Englishman 
 might — yet that can't be — he is not old 
 enough. Perhaps his companion can tell us. 
 What! is he off, too? Carajo! Que demonios 
 son los Ingleses /" '^ What devils those English 
 are!'' 
 
 "I am positive, however, I have heard 
 some tale of the kind." 
 
 " If you will listen to me, Senores, I will 
 give the authentic version," said the military 
 pompously. " Some years past — " 
 
 " I beg pardon, Sir, but how many should 
 
 c 2
 
 20 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 you think ? " interrupted a nervous old gentle- 
 man, anxious to parade his interest. 
 
 ^^ Oh, twenty or thirty, perhaps, I cannot 
 say precisely. Well," resumed the militar, 
 ^^ about thirty years ago — " 
 
 ^' Then you think. Sir, it was nearer thirty 
 than twenty years ? " asked the old man. 
 
 ^^ Que ! homhre 1^'' cried the militar, ^'how 
 
 the d 1 can I tell the story if you stop 
 
 me in the middle of every sentence ? " 
 
 " Dear me ! I'm sure, gentlemen, I humbly 
 apologize. I had not the smallest intention—" 
 
 ^' Well, well !" cried the others impatiently, 
 and the militar set off again. '^ About twenty 
 years ago — " 
 
 Here the old man got so nervous he was 
 forced to step aside. 
 
 "An English gentleman," pursued the 
 militar, " came to Mexico on his travels. He 
 brought with him letters of introduction to the 
 principal families of the city. Among the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 21 
 
 houses he visited was that of Don Diego de 
 Aquilar, a man of great wealth and " — 
 
 ^^ Quite true, Sir, quite true ; I remember 
 Don Diego perfectly, Senores," interposed the 
 fidgetty old traveller, ^^ and I remember per- 
 fectly well, Senores, the circumstance which" — 
 
 " Senores," recommenced the militar, ap- 
 pealing to his audience, ^^ if you think this 
 gentleman can satisfy your curiosity better 
 than I, then — " 
 
 " No, no ! Senor Capitan, pray go on — 
 this gentleman cannot be permitted to inter- 
 rupt any more." 
 
 "For the last time, then," resumed the 
 Capitan, " Don Diego had an only daughter. 
 The Englishman fell in love with and mar- 
 ried her. During the first years of his mar- 
 riage he remained in this country ; but his 
 wife died, and he returned to England, with 
 one or two children, I don't know which." 
 
 " Two," whipped in the old man.
 
 22 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 *^ As it happens, Fm pretty sure there was 
 but one," returned the miliiar, 
 
 " Two — two, I do assure you — a boy and a 
 girl." 
 
 '' I'd stake my commission, now, there was 
 but one." 
 
 '^ Well ! but my dear Sir, I know for a 
 certainty." 
 
 " One," obstinately insisted the militar. 
 
 ^^ Two," said the other, with like obstinacy. 
 
 '^ One."—" Two."—" One."—" Two."— 
 
 " Then have it so, and be to you," 
 
 cried the captain in a towering passion, " or I 
 shall not get tlirough to-night. On the death 
 of Don Diego, Senores, the Englishman became 
 possessed of some of his estates, which again 
 brought him to Mexico. This time his 
 daughter, now about eighteen years of age, 
 came with him. She was a miracle of beauty." 
 
 " Perfectly true, I saw her ; 'tis perfectly 
 true."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 23 
 
 " Some law-suits (the other branches of 
 the family contesting his claim) detained 
 the Englishman so long that Yasquez, who 
 was then a young officer on the staff, had 
 time to fall desperately in love with the girl. 
 He made her an offer of marriage — she refused 
 him absolutely. He urged his suit for a 
 whole year. The father at last interfered, 
 and as the surest way to make him desist, 
 informed him that the Senora's heart and 
 hand were pledged to a countryman of her 
 own. To most men this intelligence would 
 have been conclusive. Not so with Yasquez. 
 He ceased to persecute the Senora ; but with- 
 drew only to lay a plot for her destruction. 
 Partly in disgust at the process of the law- 
 suit, and partly for his child's sake, the 
 Englishman left Mexico. He was scarcely 
 fifty miles from the city when Yasquez, at the 
 head of an armed band, met him on the road. 
 The Senora was carried off, and no more 
 was heard of her from that day forth."
 
 24 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^^But Yasquez, what did he?" 
 
 ^* Took to the road. For, through the m- 
 fluence and money of the Englishman he lost 
 his commission ; and fearing, perhaps, the 
 danger of hired vengeance, he ended by keep- 
 ing to the new profession of which accident 
 had made him a member ; and, so successful 
 has he been, that here you see him, to this 
 day, setting all the authorities in the country 
 at defiance."
 
 25 
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 "Well, Fabian! What is it?" said the 
 elder to the younger of the two Englishmen, 
 as they met not far from the door of the 
 Fonda. 
 
 "That's just what I meant to ask you," 
 returned the other. " I thought that, in a fit 
 of public spiritedness, you were going to 
 shame the military, and turn thief-taker. I 
 see you havn't caught the rascal. But do 
 tell me how it happens that you and this 
 Mr. Basket, or whatever they call him, are 
 old friends?" 
 
 " Friends ! Why, is there anything so extra- 
 ordinary in my wishing to secure a fellow who 
 wishes to cut my throat, when I learn this
 
 26 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 man to be one who never was known to make 
 an empty boast ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay, I see. I couldn't make out what 
 had got you. There's not much fear, however, 
 of his troubling you again. I hope in less 
 than a couple of days we shall be shivering 
 our timbers abaft the British binnacle." 
 
 *^ I fear not," said the other. ^^I always 
 had it partly in my intention to make a 
 circuit, on horseback, between this and Jalapa ; 
 on thinking the matter over, I have decided 
 to do so. I am sorry we must part, since 
 the passage home is pleasanter with a com- 
 panion than without one." 
 
 *' For which reason I'd sooner wait till you 
 are ready to make it with me." 
 
 "AVhat! would you stay for the next 
 steamer, then?" 
 
 " Gladly, if you're not tired of me, that is." 
 
 ^^I tired of you! Had I supposed , my in- 
 vitation would have prolonged your stay, I 
 should not have pressed it so tardily. Come
 
 ^ A WILL AND A WAY. 27 
 
 with me by all means. The country through 
 which we have to pass is the loveliest you can 
 behold. To-morrow we will hire horses, and 
 make a start." 
 
 " Bravo ! I'd ten to one rather be dangling 
 my long legs across the ribs of a hack, than 
 have 'em tied in a knot in one of those pot- 
 bellied shake-ye-to-bits. As for the scenery, 
 youVe no notion how sentimental it makes me.'* 
 
 The following day, according to agreement, 
 Eaven — ^that was the name of the elder travel- 
 ler — and his young friend Fabian were riding 
 side by side on a pair of lean, though ser- 
 viceable galloways. Their road, by frequent 
 turnings along the face of a lofty ridge of 
 mountains, raised them from terrace to terrace, 
 in gradual ascent, above a plain whose further 
 boundary was laved by the waters of the great 
 Atlantic. At each bend in their narrow and 
 stony path the higher altitude added fresh 
 beauties to the magnificent scene. So clear 
 was the atmosphere that it seemed to assist
 
 28 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 rather than impede the sight. The fiercest 
 rays of the tropical sun had already passed 
 into another longitude, and the eternal snows 
 on Orizaba's Peak reflected a blaze still 
 brilliant, but deliciously cool. A gentle breeze 
 setting inland from the ocean began to wave 
 the crowded forests that grew more dense and 
 luxuriant as they neared the level of the sea. 
 There is hardly a plant on the face of the 
 globe which this teeming soil will not produce ; 
 and rich was the fragrance of the loaded gale 
 as it swept upwards, freighted with odors 
 from the pitanga, the pauhnia, and the blossom 
 or the grumijana. Orange groves were always 
 close at hand, and a thousand parasitic plants, 
 amongst which the vanilla was easiest to 
 distinguish, oppressed the senses with their 
 balsamic scents. Here and there, in the 
 vicmity of a few scattered huts, patches of 
 cultivated land relieved the over-teeming earth, 
 and the light green of the banana, the unripe 
 maize, the rice, the sugar-cane, and the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 29 
 
 smaller plants of cacomito, jalap, &c., formed 
 delightful contrasts with the sombre tints of 
 the grand primeval woods. As the travellers 
 advanced, flocks of paroquets skimmed over 
 their heads. Glittering humming-birds poised 
 themselves in mid-air, twittering in their 
 honey feast, at the mouth of some sweet 
 flower. Mackaws, cockatoos, and parrots 
 made their screams echo from the hollow 
 rocks above them, and the noisy chachalaca, or 
 Mexican pheasant, crowed its challenge from 
 the branch of many a tree. 
 
 For some time the younger Englishman was 
 lost in silent rapture at the panorama, whose 
 enchanting beauties he had never till now 
 even dreamed of Like other young men of 
 the day his conversation relished strongly of 
 the flippancy, or even slang tone in vogue 
 with youths fresh from college. But beneath 
 this surface were qualities worthy a more 
 refined expression ; and, as he himself had 
 lightly intimated, scenes of grandeur or interest
 
 30 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 never failed to awaken in him the sentiments 
 of an excellent heart, and of a fine under- 
 standing. The influence of the present hour 
 was, so to speak, soaking into his mind ; like a 
 new era in his world of thought, it was giving 
 expanse to his whole sentient being. ^' What 
 ecstacy " — these were his inward thoughts — 
 '^ What ecstacy is there in such moments of 
 contemplation ! when the soul is borne aloft 
 on the great rolling tide of some new influx of 
 images and emotions ; when, in the grandeur 
 of external objects, it is helped to feel the 
 sublimity of its own internal resources ; when 
 man is no longer man the animal, but man 
 the spirit ; not the isolated atom of an incon- 
 gruous system, but an inseparable part of the 
 All, the Oneness of the universe ; not insigni- 
 ficant as without this, but significant as 
 belonging to it — sublime in that necessity as 
 the Whole itself is sublime ! How all this 
 beauty calls forth our love — the love of the 
 Infinite typified here ! Who can look upon
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 31 
 
 such glory, and not worship its mighty Cause 
 with all his soul? Who can wonder that 
 Nature was the god of heathens ? who marvel 
 at the Eastern's mysticism — his craving for 
 immersion into the divine essence ; or who for- 
 bear with the Stagy rite's fancied elves to cry, 
 "There are gods and such things must be 
 the work of their hands ! " 
 
 "What an Eden it is, Raven!" he said, 
 aloud ; " I would not have missed this on any 
 account.'^ 
 
 " Yet," said the other, rousing himself from 
 very different thoughts, "the world is full of 
 scenes not less beautiful than this before us ; 
 and all this beauty is lost, unless some 
 accidental wanderer receives the transient 
 image of it on the perishable mirror of an 
 eye that wipes it out with a single wink." 
 
 " Lost ! What is lost ? Is then all beauty 
 created for a being so rarely capable of recog- 
 nizing even its most glaring forms ? Are then 
 for man the glories of those distant worlds,
 
 32 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 whose light, travelling millions of miles in a 
 moment, has not yet reached his earthly habi- 
 tation? Even in this world of ours, nature's 
 choicest charms, if revealed, are allotted to 
 savage races. The countries inhabited by 
 civilized man are comparatively poor in 
 physical beauties. Here the soil alone pos- 
 sesses energy, there the being. Beauty," 
 exclaimed the speaker, with a touch of sadness, 
 '^ exists not for man." 
 
 " Still its influence upon his nature is so 
 potent, one cannot help feeling it must be 
 intended, here at least, for the high pur- 
 poses of his ennoblement." 
 
 ^' Has it that effect ? " asked the elder 
 reasoner. ^^Take Europe as the test. Countries 
 marked by physical beauty have not produced 
 the most exalted spirits. The nation which 
 numbers most thinkers is peculiarly devoid 
 of romantic feature." 
 
 ^' Germany? " 
 
 ^^Yes."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 33 
 
 "But surely Greece and Rome have had 
 their poets and philosophers, whose excellencies 
 may compare with those of later times." 
 
 " And you pretend these owed their inspir- 
 ations to Grecian mountains and Italian skies ? 
 Forgetting that Plato divined his systems 
 between the mud-banks of the Nile, that Ovid 
 sang from the hated swamps of Measia, that 
 Homer was blind, and that genius in every 
 age, in every land, has shone perhaps most 
 dazzlingly from the obscurity of dungeons, or 
 from the dingy abodes of bustling cities. 
 Think you these miserable Mexicans are 
 ennobled by scenes like this we contem- 
 plate ? No ! Parnassus makes not the 
 poet. Beauty is ideal. We confound our 
 impressions with the objects which awaken 
 them." 
 
 "It may be so," said Fabian, "yet it is 
 hard to suppose any mind can contemplate 
 Nature in such magnificence as we behold her 
 here, without being the better for it. The 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 very air of these mountains is enjoyment to 
 me." 
 
 ^^ Pure oxygen usually is to most people," 
 said Kaven, smiling. " However, I compre- 
 hend your meaning ; communion with Nature 
 imbues the soul with a sense of pervading 
 harmony, and of this we partake. Be the 
 details never so startling, in combination they 
 form a complete idea. Motion, and hence 
 life, are laws, their cause a necessary conse- 
 quence." — 
 
 " See ! " exclaimed the last speaker, breaking 
 silence, " there, at the head of that valley, is 
 the end of our day's journey ; I shall not be 
 sorry to get my supper." 
 
 Some eight or ten small houses, at good 
 distances apart, composed the little Indian 
 village where our travellers intended to halt 
 for the night. As they rode in Raven selected 
 the largest of the huts, and alighting from his 
 saddle with a ^^ Dios guard' ustedes'' requested 
 pro vend for the horses and themselves. The
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 35 
 
 demand was readily attended to. Some sheaves 
 of Indian corn, spread on the roof of the shed, 
 were soon cast before the hungry animals. 
 And while a comely maiden prepared tortillas 
 at the tlireshold, her mother dislodged an old 
 hen from a dark comer in the cabin, whose 
 obstreperous cackling, once silenced, was ere 
 long succeeded by a bubbling sound from a 
 savory broth. Notwithstanding the prompitude 
 with which the above an^angement was effected 
 a tough old fowl is not made soup of in a 
 minute. During the process of stewing and 
 simmering Fabian and Kaven lay swinging in 
 a couple of grass hammocks which they had 
 stretched from the posts that supported the 
 maize-thatched verandah ; the younger man 
 spent the time in thinking what an admirable 
 invention a grass hammock was, and how 
 charmingly adapted to the sultry climate in 
 which he found himself. He also calculated 
 that the interior of a Mexican hut would, on 
 the average, cost him about five flea bites for 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 every minute he stayed there ; then, turnmg 
 to look at the tortillas, wondered whether the 
 "jumping cattle" found the plump and glossy 
 little Indian tenderer and sweeter than any 
 other member of the family. Having got 
 upon this train, his fancy soon lost itself in a 
 labyrinth of cuiious speculations, which were 
 suddenly interrupted by the arrival of half a 
 dozen men and youths, who came to say that a 
 scorpion had just stung a boy in the foot, and 
 if the strangers had any medicine they were 
 entreated to administer it. The two friends 
 instantly set off to the place where the -child 
 lay. On coming to the house they found the 
 poor little sufferer stretched upon the floor, 
 screaming and writhing with an acuteness of 
 pain which threatened to destroy life itself. 
 It appeared that he had set his shoeless foot 
 upon the poisonous reptile, and the sting had 
 pierced the tender flesh between the toes. 
 This occurrence, not by any means uncommon, 
 excited no extraordinary sympathy in the by-
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 37 
 
 standers. A little sister of the boy seemed 
 the only one seriously alarmed. Directly 
 Kaven entered, the child commenced explain- 
 ing to him, ^vith hopeless garrulousness, every 
 particular which had preceded the accident ; 
 she bitterly denounced the whole creation of 
 venemous insects, and with vindictive triumph 
 fetched the identical one which had fruit- 
 lessly attempted to protect its own life by 
 endangering that of an unconscious destroyer. 
 The great evil to be apprehended in the 
 boy*s case was fever. Luckily Raven carried 
 with him a few of what may be called the 
 sledge-hammers of medicine ; such as calomel, 
 opium, quinine, &c. Being a veteran traveller 
 too, accident had often called his medical 
 knowledge into requisition. A small share of 
 this was adequate to the present emergency. 
 The wounded foot was bathed in aqua ardiente, 
 and " nature's nurse," speedily acknowledged 
 the invitation of the soothing laudanum. To 
 the simple-minded natives, totally ignorant of
 
 38 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 the use of chemicals, this sudden relief from 
 torture appeared little short of a miracle. In 
 less than ten minutes every family in the 
 hamlet was beleaguring Raven with appli- 
 cations for his nostrums or advice. He found 
 himself obliged to attend to them ; and what- 
 ever the disease, casual or chronical, he ad- 
 ministered to it with the properest remedies he 
 possessed ; in the absence of these, there being 
 no alternative, he physicked heavily, right and 
 left, with blue pill. In this way nearly two 
 hours were consumed, he all the while being 
 kept from his dinner. At last he bethought 
 him that Fabian might be waiting till he came 
 back ; a better pretext could not be wanted 
 for desisting from his charitable labour. He 
 returned to their hut, and impatiently ordered 
 the soup to be set upon the table. WeU 
 seasoned with chillies and lentils, stewed to an 
 excellent consistency, no dish had ever looked 
 more tempting ; the tortillas also were piping 
 hot, and tender as the most delicious crumpets.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 39 
 
 Fabian, however, was not quite ready, so his 
 companion, who took great pleasure in his 
 society, thought to wait a few moments, the 
 better to enjoy the meal when the other came. 
 Kaven looked at the tortillas, and perceived 
 they would soon be as tough as a cowhide ; 
 the savory steam of the soup ascended to 
 his nostrils only to tantalize his disappointed 
 palate. 
 
 " What the plague," thought he, ^^ is that 
 boy about, keeping dinner waiting here till it 
 is quite spoiled." But now that he had waited 
 fidl a quarter of an hour, it was not worth his 
 while to make this trouble for the sake of 
 another five minutes. ^^ Besides," added he 
 to himself, " nothing can be more foolish than 
 to allow oneself to be put out by such a 
 trifling inconvenience, and 'tis moreover a 
 rare opportunity for the practice of a little 
 patience." This reflection proved sufficiently 
 pleasing to continue its good effects for about 
 twice the length of time it had taken him to
 
 40 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 make it. But as Fabian seemed as far off as 
 ever, Mr. Raven endeavoured to beguile him- 
 self by beating what is called a de^dl's tatoo, first 
 with his hands, then, for a change, with his feet. 
 It did not take very long to exhaust the novelty 
 and pleasure of this pastime ; his watch was 
 then pulled out and laid upon the table. ^^ Til 
 give him exactly five minutes more. No, six— 
 ril give him six minutes. If he does not come 
 then, I'll not wait another second." " Come," 
 says Good Sense, ^' you had better set-to ; the 
 victuals will get worse and worse, and your 
 friend will be vexed when he finds you 
 have waited such a long time for him." ^^ So 
 he ought," cries Temper. "Is it becoming in 
 a youth to be so inconsiderate? He might 
 have guessed how long I would be away ; it 
 will serve him right to be annoyed." " Now 
 that is sheer spleen," suggested Conscience. 
 " BeUy, belly!" cried Hunger. "The deuce 
 take the fellow!" exclaimed Eaven, jumping 
 up, "unless he be looking after the horses.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 41 
 
 it is really inexcusable." With these words 
 he ran round to the back of the house, when 
 what was his astonishment to behold Fabian 
 no more thinking about the horses than about 
 him, but as coolly and as pleasantly as might 
 be making very pretty love to the plump 
 little Indian maiden, who, to make matters 
 worse, seemed no less entertained with the 
 occupation than the youth himself. "Now 
 this is abominable," exclaimed Raven, fully 
 satisfied of the justness of his ire. " Fabian ! 
 Fabian, I say, do you intend to keep me wait- 
 ing for dinner all night, while you sit playing 
 the fool with that girl?" 
 
 " All right old fellow," answered the youth, 
 quite unconscious how time had slipped away, 
 "don't wait for me." So saying, he seized 
 the opportunity of the damsel's confusion, and 
 stealing a most unceremonious kiss, hastened 
 off to join his companion. 
 
 " I hope you haven't been waiting long," 
 were his first words.
 
 42 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 " Only three quarters of an hour," said 
 the other ; ^^ another time when you mean 
 to keep me waiting for my dinner until you 
 have satisfied your own refined taste, perhaps 
 you will be good enough to give me notice.'^ 
 
 " My dear fellow ! " returned the accused, 
 with a good-natured smile, ^^I hadn't a 
 notion of this — I thought — " 
 
 '^ You thought ! Did you think I was 
 such an ass as to go without supper, because 
 every idiot in the village expected me to 
 cure him ? " 
 
 Fabian looked sorry ; but like a wise man 
 made no reply. 
 
 ^' Esta fria la sopa? Is the soup cold?" 
 unfortunately interposed the hostess, who saw 
 something had gone wrong, but did not under- 
 stand what. 
 
 *^ Cold !" muttered Raven, " I should think 
 it was cold ; and if you had not been a hesiia 
 (a fool) you would have set it on the fire to 
 keep it hot till this young gentleman had
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 43 
 
 done making love to " — he checked himself, for 
 even in anger he would not make mischief, so 
 added — " to every woman in the place." 
 
 The matron would certainly have flown out 
 at the term '^hestia;'" but remembering some 
 compliments Fabian had paid to herself, she 
 answered ^^ Que ! BestiaT' And there the 
 matter dropped. 
 
 The meal ended, both travellers betook 
 themselves to their hammocks. Fabian, whose 
 sweet temper soon banished every disagree- 
 able recollection of the quarrel, smoked his 
 pipe in placid luxury beneath the star- 
 crowded heaven. Raven, on the contrary, 
 lay humiliating himself with self-accusations, 
 determining, in his heart, to offend no more, 
 and resolving to make ample apology for this 
 transgression on the morrow. Other thoughts, 
 of a more exciting nature, banished the desire 
 of repose from his mind ; when these came 
 uppermost, he listened to the healthy snor- 
 ing of his companion, till being fully satisfied
 
 44 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 that he slept ; he softly threw his serape over 
 his shoulders, placed a pistol in his breast, 
 and strode huiTiedly through the village till 
 he neared the last hut on its outsMrts. Here 
 he paused to catch the sound of several 
 voices as they chaunted one of those wild 
 au's, with guitar accompaniment, to which 
 the natives of Mexico dance then' favourite 
 fandango. An expression of doubt and dis- 
 appointment passed over his face, when he 
 discovered sounds of revehy where he had 
 expected silence. He did not long hesitate, 
 however, but passing on, gained the entrance 
 of the hut ; a few of those families he 
 had visited in the afternoon were present— 
 the rest were unknown to him ; his previous 
 acquaintances recognised and invited him 
 to join the noisy party. The couiteous salu- 
 tations practised by even the most deteri- 
 orated offsets of the proud old Castillian 
 race were exchanged, and Eaven seated him- 
 self on a table, at one end, where his quick
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 45 
 
 eye had already detected the owner of the 
 hut, and the mistress of the ceremonies. 
 Pulling out a packet of cigarillos he presented 
 it to the woman by whose side he had placed 
 himself; she scanned him closely before she 
 accepted the proffered offering. ** Is your wor- 
 ship English or American ? " she suspiciously 
 inquired. 
 
 ^^ English, jpara servir a usted, at your 
 ladyship's command ! " was the reply. 
 
 *^ What's your name ?" 
 
 ^' Eduardo. And your's, if I may ask the 
 question ? ' ' 
 
 ^^Don Eduardo!" repeated the woman, 
 again looking him over. '■^ Mine is Juanita." 
 
 " Alvarez ? " added Eaven, stooping his 
 head to whisper the second name in her 
 ear. 
 
 ^^Dios!" exclaimed the woman, starting 
 from her seat. ^^Who knows me by that 
 name?" 
 
 Again Eaven whispered.
 
 46 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 The woman took his hand, and bent down 
 to hide her face. ^^ I will tell you," said she, 
 '^ but his friends are about us — and I — but, 
 will you swear that your purpose is friendly?" 
 
 ^^By heaven!" exclaimed Eaven, solemnly, 
 ^^I swear it!" 
 
 '' Then listen." 
 
 He leant close to her to receive the com- 
 munication. " Good !" said he. " God grant 
 the mission may succeed." 
 
 "Alas! I fear the difficulties are insur- 
 mountable. Beware of the road ; there may 
 be danger before you reach Cordova. Now, 
 mix with these people, or we shall be 
 suspected." 
 
 "Your worship will tarry with us to look 
 after your patients, we hope," said one of 
 Eaven's former acquaintances. 
 
 " My friend, I have business at Cordova, 
 and must leave you to-morrow at daybreak." 
 
 " Business where V asked a stranger, push- 
 ing between the speakers.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 47 
 
 ^^At some distance from here," returned 
 Eaven, carelessly. 
 
 " The gentleman says he must be at Cor- 
 dova to-morrow/' rejoined another. ^^ We want 
 him to stay with us."
 
 48 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 To avoid the heat, which in these latitudes 
 becomes intolerable in the middle of the day, 
 the two Englishmen were on their horses with 
 the first appearance of dawn. They were not 
 the only early risers in the village. Ere they 
 had left the last house behind them, their 
 progress was arrested by the shouts of one 
 running to overtake them ; as he came up 
 Raven observed that he was the last person 
 who had accosted him on the previous evening. 
 He looked anxious and alarmed, but was too 
 much out of breath to speak for a minute or two. 
 
 " Senor," he presently cried, ^^ Por el amor 
 de Dios. For the love of God, do not travel 
 this road."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 49 
 
 " Wherefore not, friend ? " said Raven, 
 smiling at the man's terrified demeanour. 
 
 ^^ Because — ah ! Senor it was not my fault, 
 how could I know to whom I was speaking? 
 Didn't he ask me the question when you 
 yourself were standing by? I would have 
 given him the knife rather than have betrayed 
 so benevolent a gentleman as yoiu* worship." 
 
 '^ What on earth is the fellow talking 
 about ! " cried Fabian, who began to think 
 the man demented. '"'' He, he, what he ? " 
 
 " Oh sir, he is one of Yasquez's band ; 
 directly he heard you were on your way to 
 Cordova, he left the village at once. Juanita 
 told me to stop you, she thinks this man has 
 dogged you from Perote; sure enough sir, the 
 country between this and Cordova is the worst 
 in the world for robbers. And since the 
 soldiers hung Pablo they have been more 
 desperate than ever." 
 
 " Bravo ! " exclaimed Fabian, rubbing his 
 hands with glee. ^^ We shall see sport yet — 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 tut man ! don't be afraid, I'm not going to 
 make game of you." This he said, seeing the 
 Mexican cowering at the sight of a large 
 pistol which he pulled from his belt. 
 
 ''' Well ! " said Raven, '•'' we must take our 
 chance. Thank Juanita; — good bye." And, 
 putting spurs to his horse, he left the aston- 
 ished messenger to pick up a handful of 
 quartos which he scattered broadcast upon 
 the road. 
 
 ^^Do you think," inquired the younger 
 traveller, ^Hhese fellows will have the pluck 
 to stop us ? " 
 
 ^^ Whether they will stop us," returned the 
 other, his keen eye kindling with determi- 
 nation, "' is one thing ; whether they will try, 
 is another." 
 
 ^^ By George ! I should like to have a bit 
 of a scrimmage ; how odd though, if we should 
 happen to stumble across Yasquez again ! " 
 
 '' Stranger accidents might befall us," 
 replied Raven, sententiously.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 51 
 
 '^ I'd bet a trifle I hit him iii'st pop with my 
 revolver," said Fabian, taking aim at a guana 
 perched on a rock that overhung their pathway. 
 '' Look there now ! wasn't that a neat shoot, 
 as the Yankees say ? I've killed the beast as 
 dead as mutton." 
 
 ^^Fye," said Raven; ^' what wanton thought- 
 lessness ! why should you end the happy career 
 of one of God's little creatures, to gratify the 
 vanity of a true eye? To lose that eye would 
 be a very serious affliction. Yet you put out 
 aU that little being's light, and overwhelm it 
 with a mortal anguish for mere amusement." 
 
 '' I'll never kill another as long as I 
 breathe. Well! who'd have thought it was 
 so natural to be a butcher ? " and Fabian both 
 looked and felt ashamed for what he had done. 
 
 " Now you've made me so serious," he 
 presently recommenced, ^^at shooting a reptile, 
 tell me. Raven, do you think one has a right 
 to shoot a man ? " 
 
 " Under what cu'cumstances ? " 
 
 e2 
 
 UNlVERSn^ OF \\^^^-
 
 52 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 "Why, of course, I mean if he stops you 
 on the highway, as, for instance, one of these 
 fellows might stop us/' 
 
 " It is a serious thing to take a man's life," 
 mused Eaven, partly to himself, "be the cir- 
 cumstances what they will." 
 
 "So it is ;" said Fabian. " But then it is a 
 mighty serious affair to get a crack on the 
 skull one's self, and when it comes to be either 
 one or the other, and you have the option — 
 eh?" 
 
 Eaven seemed lost in his own thoughts. 
 
 " The robber, you see," pursued the other, 
 " engages in the fight with the clear under- 
 standing that either you or he is to bite the 
 dust. It can't, therefore, be very surprising 
 to him if he now and then gets a bullet 
 through his own head." 
 
 Eaven laughed a little, but said nothing. 
 After riding a mile or two, he suddenly re- 
 membered his resolve to apologise for his last 
 night's behaviour.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 53 
 
 " Fabian/' he began, ^^ I should have made 
 the amende to you for my abominable conduct 
 yesterday, as soon as I had the sense to see 
 my fault in its true colour." 
 
 "Hoot, Toot!'' ejaculated the youth, '^ I 
 had clean forgotten all about it." 
 
 " Not I, though ; and when you have lived 
 to make as many good resolutions as I have, 
 you will not easily forget the humiliation 
 which follows when one has unhappily been 
 broken." 
 
 "My dear Raven," rejoined the other, "I'll 
 be bound for it, I break fifty times more reso- 
 lutions than you do. By George ! you never 
 saw me in a twig, did you ? Wait a bit ; 
 it's something out of the common when it 
 does come ! " 
 
 " Indeed, it must be. Long might I wait 
 to see your amiable disposition thrown ofi" its 
 balance ; and on that very account there is 
 less excuse for my being out of temper with 
 you."
 
 54 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 " Oh, never mind. Hilloa ! — what's this ? 
 Phah ! Here's Pablo, by all that's inodorous! " 
 
 These exclamations burst from the youth, 
 as at the moment his sight was shocked 
 by an apparition of a horrifying nature. 
 From the lower branch of a large tree, at the 
 wayside, swung the already decayed corpse of 
 the robber — not suspended in hoops and 
 chains, as is sometimes the case. The body 
 was hanging by the fatal cord which had 
 extinguished life. So elongated was the neck 
 — the weight had separated the vertebrae and 
 stretched the muscles — that as the traveller 
 rode past, he might well feel afraid lest a 
 breath of wind, or even the jarring of the 
 road, should break down the loathsome re- 
 mains upon him. 
 
 ^^ That's an ugly sign for a road-side! " said 
 Fabian, pressing by the hideous spectacle, 
 with a shudder. " Bah ! I don't see, though, 
 why the public should be punished as well as 
 the culprit ! "
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 55 
 
 "It is an awful warning," said his com- 
 panion. "Think you that it is either justi- 
 fiable or expedient ? " 
 
 " The question is a vexed and a vexing 
 one. Some years ago I was a*violent advo- 
 cate for abolishing capital punishment. But 
 in proportion to my then vehemence, I have 
 lived to think those opinions wrong.'' 
 
 "You are for hanging now?" 
 
 " To hang a degraded wretch, whose con- 
 science has become paralysed by a process 
 of crime, for the expiation of his misdeeds, I 
 hold to be neither justifiable nor expedient ; 
 it is simply an act of impotent revenge. But 
 prove to me youi' right to hang at all, and I will 
 not question the expediency of deterring others 
 fi-om like crimes by the teiTor of a like fate." 
 
 " Then you do think others are deteiTed by 
 these dreadful warnings ? " 
 
 "Most indubitably. The good may be 
 influenced by the hope of reward. But the
 
 56 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 bad — ^how can it be otherwise? — are only 
 moved by the fear of punishment.'' 
 
 ^^ Well, 'tis hard to say," returned Fabian, 
 " whether one has the right to hang 'em or 
 not. You know what old ^Coke upon Lyttle- 
 ton' said of it ? " 
 
 '^ No— what ? " 
 
 " ' We hang criminals between heaven and 
 earth, because they're not good enough for the 
 first, and are too bad for the other.' " 
 
 ^' There is more wit than wisdom in the 
 remark, whoever made it," said Raven. 
 
 After this little discussion, the conversation 
 grew desultory. Presently it was entirely put 
 a stop to, by an accidental word which fell 
 from the lips of the elder Englishman. 
 
 " Why not, Eaven ? I would as soon live 
 here as elsewhere." 
 
 "" My dear Fabian," was the answer, ^^ you 
 would be tired of the country in six months. 
 Besides, what would the fair Belinda say ? "
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 57 
 
 The colour glowed through the tanned 
 features of the youth. ^' I neither know 
 nor care/' said he, and there the dialogue 
 ended. 
 
 Having lain by to take their siesta at the 
 hottest part of the day, they were again 
 jogging along, when their respective cogita- 
 tions were suddenly interrupted by the pre- 
 sence of a third person, whom they fell in 
 with as they came to the mouth of another 
 road which debouched into their own. Before, 
 however, we speak of the stranger, let us take 
 this occasion to consider the appearance of 
 our friend, the elder traveller. Raven, the 
 reader has already been informed, was about 
 fifteen years older than his companion. If 
 we call Fabian three or four and twenty, we 
 may safely say Raven could not well be less 
 than forty. This, in truth, was his age. 
 With one sign and another he might have 
 been taken for a few years older ; yet his 
 frame was too firm, too erect, too vigorous,
 
 58 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 for a man whose knees begin to falter with 
 the shaking of the down-hill step. In height, 
 he was of middle stature ; across the shoulders 
 exceedingly broad. His head was large, at 
 least it looked so, for his face was large. His 
 hair — which was thick and slightly grizzled — 
 he wore long. Like Fabian, he had a beard. 
 But the most remarkable of his features were 
 his eyes, shaded beneath a projecting brow, 
 they still shone out brightly, piercingly, and 
 watchfully. He had a prominent nose, yet 
 straight. A slightly sensual look dwelt about 
 the region of the mouth, although, from habit, 
 his lips were constantly compressed. Every 
 lineament betokened active thought and traces 
 of care. To say this or that was the wonted 
 expression of Haven's countenance, would lead 
 astray. His features varied with the com- 
 plexion of his mind, and of this they were a 
 faithful index. 
 
 Now for the stranger. He rode on a mule. 
 The mule and he were equally sleek. Each
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 59 
 
 was round and glossy with good stalling. 
 The person of the rider was clad — swathed, 
 we might almost say — in black camlet; for the 
 coat he wore reached to his ancles. Black knee 
 breeches, black silk stockings, and buckled 
 shoes completed his apparel. The whole was 
 roofed over with a hat, rolled up at the sides, 
 but projecting a good half yard before and 
 behind. Not satisfied with this, our stalwart 
 priest (who can mistake the sacerdotal garb ?) 
 protected his head from the afternoon sun by 
 a wide-spreading scarlet umbrella. 
 
 '' God preserve your worships !" exclaimed 
 this stalwart pillar of the church, touching his 
 hat with much humility of manner. 
 
 '^ Is your reverence travelling to Cordova?" 
 asked Raven. 
 
 "Even so," said the priest; "it is my 
 home. You gentlemen seem to be strangers 
 here?" 
 
 "We are, sir. Is it far to Cordova?" 
 
 "Our reckonings are made by time, rather
 
 60 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 than by distance in these mountain paths. 
 On such nags as yours, and at this pace, four 
 or five hours should see us there.'' 
 
 '^ Talking of nags — that is a notable bit of 
 mule's flesh you're on, sir," said Fabian, sur- 
 veying the priest's animal with the eye of a 
 connoisseur. 
 
 '^ It would take a good one to beat him on 
 a long journey, sir," answered the rider. 
 
 '' He does credit to his keep," said Eaven. 
 
 " Nay, sir, he is like his master — ^holds his 
 flesh despite the hard usages of the world, 
 and thrives on a mere nothing — a little 
 chopped straw, sir, scarce ought else." 
 
 ^^Ex nihilo nihil fit," said Fabian, half 
 aloud. "If he calls the mule's fare chopped 
 straw, perhaps he'll allow that it's master lives 
 in clover." 
 
 A humorous smile passed over the priest's 
 face, but it escaped the observance of both his 
 companions. 
 
 " I should say," remarked he who last
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 61 
 
 spoke, ^^ on such a mule as that, your reve- 
 rence might show a. bold back to robbers if 
 they beset you." 
 
 ^*May the blessed Virgin shield us from 
 such a catastrophe ! " exclaimed the padre, 
 devoutly crossing himself. 
 
 "We are informed this particular district is 
 much infested by bandits," said Raven. "Do 
 you frequently hear of them, sir?" 
 
 " Now and then," returned the other ; 
 not often, sir." 
 
 " I am told," pursued Raven, " there is a 
 notorious robber called Yasquez in this part 
 of the country ; did your reverence ever see 
 him? Hear of him, I presume every one 
 must." 
 
 " See him ! " exclaimed the priest, with a 
 shudder. " God forbid it should ever be my 
 misfortune ! As to hearing of him, all who 
 travel in these parts hear enough, and some 
 more than enough of his dreaded name." 
 
 "Is it many years, sir, since you came to
 
 62 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 reside in this country ? " inquired Eaven, with 
 considerable interest in his manner. 
 
 " About five years, sir, not more.'^ 
 
 Raven's face relaxed into its previous un- 
 concern.'^ 
 
 ^* It is unlucky," said Fabian, still harping 
 upon the subject uppermost in his mind, 
 " that the greatest rogue in all Mexico should 
 happen to be a parishioner of yours, sir." 
 
 ^^ It is the business of the Government to 
 protect its subjects and their property," re- 
 turned the priest, rather tartly. 
 
 ^^ The disease is incurable by the time 
 that doctor is called in," said Raven, taking 
 up the word. ** You, sir, who educate the 
 people, should be the remover of these moral 
 evils." 
 
 ^^Ah, sir," replied the divine, suddenly, 
 resuming his humble air ; " What can such as 
 I do? I am but a feeble pastor — an unworthy 
 servant of the Holy Church. These brigands 
 care for no one but the soldiers."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 63 
 
 Then, as if undesirous of provoking an 
 argument, which whatever might be its issue, 
 would at least tend to make him still hotter 
 than he was, the priest gathered up his reins, 
 and, dismounting to tighten the girths of his 
 saddle, dropped some little distance behind. 
 Coming to a narrow bend in the road, which 
 did not admit of two horsemen abreast, Fabian 
 slackened the pace of his animal also, while 
 Raven went to the front, and led the other 
 two in single file down the steep and rugged 
 pass. On the right of the travellers rose a 
 wall of broken masses of rock, densely over- 
 grown with ferns of every description, and, 
 where there was sufficient earth, large forest 
 trees or minor shrubs crowded in, so that not 
 a foot of soil remained unproductive. On 
 their left was a precipitous declivity, which, 
 for six or seven hundred feet, was without a 
 break. Then, again, came a ledge of rock, 
 which gradually sloped away in jungle-covered 
 inclines. The path itself^ — not more than a
 
 64 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 few feet broad — had, from its steepness, been 
 deeply farrowed by the late heavy rains, so now 
 presented a surface resembling the old channel 
 of a winter torrent. Every stone native to the 
 place, and numbers more carried there by the 
 flood, lay above-ground, obstructing the way. 
 
 Had it not been for the intense heat, which 
 rendered them too lazy, our travellers would 
 assuredly have got off their horses, and have 
 led them until the road began to reascend. 
 This they did not trouble themselves to do, 
 consequently they were at more pains to 
 keep the beasts from falling than it would 
 have cost to lead them twice the distance. 
 Here, thought Fabian to himself, is the 
 sweetest spot in the whole journey for an 
 ambuscade. Scarcely was the idea conceived 
 when a thundering noise from behind sounded 
 as though a troop of cavalry was sweeping 
 down upon them. 
 
 ^^ Stand by! Here they come!" shouted 
 Fabian, giving the alarm, and at the same
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 65 
 
 moment reining his nag as close under the 
 rocks as he could squeeze. Raven followed 
 the example, when, in a few minutes, the 
 noise still increasing, and the rattling of big 
 stones down the steep warning them of the 
 coming danger, the foremost of a train of laden 
 mules came in sight, groaning and sobbing so 
 as to be heard a long distance off. On he 
 stumbled, or rather plunged ; for, despite his 
 enormous burden, which was no less than 
 ten arrobas, or over two cwt. of sugar, the 
 sure-footed beast picked his steps between the 
 huge rolling blocks, which threatened to break 
 his slender limbs at every yard. 
 
 On passing the fat priest there really was 
 not an inch to spare ; the heavy sack squeezed 
 his portly stomach against the wall, and as this 
 happened with a jolt, both mule and priest 
 jerked out an involuntary grunt as the concus- 
 sion took place. Well our padre knew the 
 awkwardness of his situation. He knew that 
 these mule-trains are most frequently made up 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 of from twenty to a hundred mules, and, as he 
 anticipated, every one of this train, in which 
 there were more than forty, knocked the wind 
 out of his body as each animal charged past 
 him. At this scene Master Fabian would have 
 gone on laughing for a good half hour, but his 
 merriment was unhappily checked by another 
 sight, of a far less amusing character. The 
 case was this : — One of these poor mules 
 chanced to be quite unequal to the load which 
 its cruel drivers had laid upon its back. It 
 was both sick and old, and had likewise seri- 
 ously injured one of its fore-legs by a fall. As 
 this beast staggered down the descent, shatter- 
 ing itself to bits with the roughness of the 
 motion, and almost weeping, so it appeared to 
 Fabian, under its oppression, it suddenly took 
 advantage of a small standing-point, where it 
 could recover breath and let the younger beasts 
 rush past it. Hardly had it stood here a 
 minute, when a couple of young mules came 
 racing down together, endeavoring as it seemed
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 67 
 
 to thrust each other off the path. The poor 
 old mule had no hope to outspeed them in their 
 downward course ; but, as if aware from long 
 experience of its impending fate, looked round 
 to see them coming ; then, stretching its legs 
 out to sustain the shock, waited patiently till 
 the shock came. Both Fabian and Raven were 
 witnesses of the accident. When the fatal in- 
 stant arrived, an exclamation of horror burst 
 from both their lips. The young mules plunged 
 on, but the place where the old worn-out thing 
 had stood was vacant. Seven hundred feet 
 below lay a mangled carcase, and the ten 
 arrobas of sugar. 
 
 ^^Thus," said Raven, gravely, ^^by what at 
 first sight seemed a hard fate, this suffering old 
 creatui'e has been saved from an end twenty 
 times less merciful." 
 
 *^And so is it" said the priest, who had 
 joined them, " that the decrepitude of age 
 yields to the headlong vigor of youth." 
 
 About a mile or so from this spot the thi-ee 
 
 F 2
 
 68 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 equestrians overtook an old man and a young 
 girl. They were toiling up a hill well nigh as 
 steep in ascent as the last had been the other 
 way. The old man, having no burden but the 
 heaviest, his age, was helping himself along 
 by aid of a high staff. The girl, to the sur- 
 prise of the Englishmen, who were little used 
 to such a sight, bore upon her shoulders a 
 great pigskin fall oi pulque, which they calcu- 
 culated could not possibly weigh less than a 
 hundi^ed pounds. To be sure she was very 
 lightly clad, having but a thin petticoat that 
 reached no farther than her knees, and an 
 equally thin garment to cover her bust. This 
 dress, which as little as possible impeded the 
 use of her limbs, was hardly sufficient to con- 
 ceal their just proportions, and so well did she 
 look in it that the compassion of all three tra- 
 vellers was at once awakened to the highest 
 pitch. 
 
 Whether the two elder ones deemed 
 gallantry more becoming in a young man,
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 69 
 
 or whether they, more accustomed to self- 
 examming, were a little ashamed of the motives 
 of their compassion, matters not ; practically, 
 no one but Fabian made the least demonstra- 
 tion of his feelings. This young gentleman 
 no sooner beheld the hardships of the pretty 
 maiden than he flung out of his saddle and was 
 by her side in a moment. She, not compre- 
 hending his intention, sprang off like a young 
 fawn — forgetting in her alarm the weight of 
 her ponderous load. Seeing this, the old man 
 became speedily invigorated with anger, and 
 but for the timely intervention of the priest, 
 who sat laughing heartily at the mistake, our 
 young knight-errant would have come by more 
 blows than he bargained for. When his pur- 
 pose was made known, the courteous apologies 
 of the poor Indians surpassed the gi'aceful 
 insipidity of polished manners as much as they 
 exceeded them in sincerity and good humour. 
 The bronze-color cheeks of the maiden blushed 
 for the attention her comeliness had attracted,
 
 70 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 and she smiled with a naivete and innocence 
 that went to the heart of her cavalier. His 
 first proposition was to set her on horseback 
 and strap the pigskin of pulque upon his own 
 shoulders. This she would not hear of, but 
 proposed in lieu to keep her pulque and take a 
 rest astride the horse, behind its rider. His 
 sense of delicacy would not permit him to place 
 a young woman, even at her own request, in 
 this, to him, very singular attitude upon a 
 horse, so that some altercation ensued, and 
 which ended by their strapping the pulque on , 
 to the saddle, and going together afoot by its 
 side. So perfectly agreeable did this arrange- 
 ment turn out, that when they came to a 
 diverging pathway, which obliged the old man 
 and his daughter to leave them, both Fabian 
 and the little pulque carrier regretted sincerely 
 that their roads were not the same all the way 
 to Cordova, — nay, had they been asked, they 
 might have named a place as far again. 
 
 From this point each of the riders occupied
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 71 
 
 himself with his own thoughts, — all, as ap- 
 pearances promised it — expecting to reach 
 their destination without further adventui'e of 
 any kind. Such, however, is the uncertainty 
 of human affairs, that, at the very point — 
 but I know the reader anticipates my observa- 
 tion, — so I will even relate the particulars of 
 a more important adventure than any which 
 hath yet befallen them. This event, however, 
 were best spoken of in another chapter.
 
 72 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In tropical climates, like that of Mexico, the 
 long twilights of our northern hemispheres are 
 unknown, nor does the heat subside, as the sun 
 approaches the horizon, as with us. Often the 
 last hour before sunset seems almost as hot as 
 mid-day, both air and earth retaining the caloric 
 of fourteen or fifteen hours' baking. Over- 
 come with this intense warmth, and fatigued 
 with the day's march, all three travellers had 
 succumbed, in turn, to its somniferous in- 
 fluence. Eaven, who rode in advance, had 
 hard work to contend with his drowsiness, 
 the good padre snored loudly in his saddle, 
 and Fabian kept bowing to his horse's ears, 
 and starting up alternately ; the difficulty of
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 73 
 
 keeping his long body erect rendering the 
 loss of balance inevitable. It was in this half- 
 unconscious state that the little party suddenly 
 found itself brought to a dead stand still. 
 From behind a cluster of rocks, which stood 
 on the higher side of the path, three men, 
 who had watched the gradual advance of their 
 prey, darted forth, and planted themselves one 
 in fi'ont of each rider. The nature of the ap- 
 parition forced itself instantly upon the under- 
 standings of the besieged. Cries of " Bocca a 
 tierra,'' "Mouth to the ground," operated elec- 
 trically on the minister of peace ; his eager- 
 ness to obey the command cost him a tumble, 
 which he was glad enough to pass off as the 
 cause of his insensibilty. The combative pro- 
 pensities of Master Fabian, however, rose in- 
 stantly with the occasion. His first thought was 
 to shoot his opponent through the head ; but 
 this murderous intention he quickly changed. 
 Digging the rowels into his horse's ribs he 
 made a dash to ride the robber down ; this
 
 74 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 fellow, however, caught the bridle in his hand ; 
 but the moment he was within reach of Fabian's 
 lengthy arm, a blow from our young athlete's 
 fist laid him sprawling stupified in the dust. 
 
 In the man who confronted him. Raven 
 immediately recognised Yasquez. No idea 
 could be further from his mind than to 
 injure the bandit chief; he was also well 
 aware the smallest resistance might be the 
 signal for his death-blow from a musket now 
 levelled at his head. " Hold ! " he cried, 
 stretching out his arm in an attitude bespeak- 
 ing forbearance. '' Hold ! in God's name ! Let 
 peace be between us." At this instant 
 Fabian, who had disposed of his own enemy, 
 looked up and saw another fellow about, as 
 he imagined, to take the life of his friend; 
 clearly the moment was not one for reflection, 
 he snatched out his revolver and fired, not 
 to save himself, but Haven. The bullet, 
 strange to say (it being directed by so steady 
 a hand), whizzed harmless through the air;
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 75 
 
 but the shot was answered — Raven fell 
 wounded to the ground. 
 
 Luckily the ball had only grazed the 
 Englishman's head ; by a tremendous exertion 
 he rose again to his legs, and, rushing upon 
 each other, the two wrestled furiously for a 
 thi'ow. Meanwhile Fabian was struggling 
 with the third robber, who had just left the 
 priest. It was evident that, in strength and 
 activity, this man was no match for the 
 courageous youth ; but the Mexican, in a 
 great measure, compensated his personal 
 inferiority by skill in the use of the knife, 
 which formidable weapon he now wielded 
 with alarming dexterity. At the very first 
 blow he drove the deadly blade through the 
 muscles of the young Englishman's arm — and 
 so serious was the injury thus inflicted that 
 the combat at once became unequal ; every 
 moment now was of advantage to the robber — 
 could he continue the struggle long enough, 
 loss of blood would so weaken his opponent,
 
 76 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 that an opportunity must at last turn up of 
 settling the fight with a single stab. 
 
 These considerations rushed also into 
 Fabian's mind ; he perceived that one of his 
 arms was nearly disabled — he was likewise 
 conscious that his strength would soon be 
 seriously impaired. Another disagreeable con- 
 viction forced itself upon him; his watchful 
 eye warned him that the man he had 
 stunned was rapidly recovering, and in a few 
 minutes would be fresh for a new assault. 
 Still Raven and Yasquez clung fiercely to 
 each other ; his fiiend he knew to be wounded 
 — he had seen him fall ; not the smallest hope 
 of assistance, therefore, could he look for fi^om 
 any quarter. In this predicament, necessity 
 and desperation lent almost superhuman 
 strength to his uninjured arm ; with the 
 rapidity of thought he seized the Mexican 
 round the waist, and ere the man could free 
 himself to take advantage of the Englishman's 
 exposure, Fabian hurled him to the ground
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 77 
 
 with a force that left him stunned, breathless, 
 and without sign of life. Already the knife 
 of the recovered man was raised to stab him ; 
 with one spring, however, the youth evaded 
 the blow ; and, this time, taking surer aim, 
 he sent a bullet through the middle of the 
 brigand's neck. 
 
 At the same time almost at which Fabian 
 found himself released from danger, the pistol 
 of Vasquez accidentally went off in the scuffle, 
 its contents pierced its owner s breast, and 
 Raven, to his surprise, clasped the body of 
 a lifeless man. 
 
 Wounded and exhausted as they were, the 
 two friends warmly embraced each other, with 
 glowing and thankful hearts, for the victory 
 which had been vouchsafed to them. The 
 priest, who hitherto had not stirred a limb, 
 now served them, after the fashion of his 
 calling, with right good will ; binding up their 
 wounds, he caught their horses, and lifted his 
 friends into their saddles. Fortunately, their
 
 78 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 distance to Cordova was but trifling ; in less 
 than half an hour they were all safely lodged at 
 the padre^s house, which stood about a mile, 
 or so, on this side of the town. At the 
 earnest solicitation of Eaven the body of 
 Vasquez was brought to them ; the other two 
 men, neither of whom were mortally hurt, 
 were captured where they lay, by the soldiers, 
 who soon got wind of the affray. Sentence 
 of death was afterwards passed upon these, 
 and the poor wretches finally suffered the 
 horrible fate which their comrade Pablo had 
 already experienced before them. 
 
 The injury sustained by Fabian did not 
 hinder him from nursing his more seriously 
 wounded companion, who seemed unaccount- 
 ably to be afflicted, no less with mental than 
 with bodily pain. Both his friend and the 
 priest attributed this to symptoms of fever, 
 which they had good reason to fear might 
 ensue. Raven's conduct, too, concerning the 
 dead body, increased rather than diminished
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 79 
 
 their apprehension ; he could not be persuaded 
 to keep his bed, but several times, in the course 
 of the evening, begged his host to leave him 
 alone in the same room with the robber's 
 corpse. On one occasion when Fabian re- 
 turned to him, he fancied traces of tears were 
 to be seen in his eyes ; not a word, however, 
 was said, except a request which Eaven made 
 the priest, to perform the burial early next 
 morning. His anxiety on this score was 
 occasioned by the belief that the authorities 
 would claim the body to expose it publicly 
 for the sake of example. The priest promised 
 to comply with his whim, and they retired to 
 the rest so much needed by all. 
 
 Scarcely two hours had yet been spent in 
 sleep when a rude clamour at the outer door 
 roused the padre from his slumbers ; at first he 
 tried hard to sleep through the racket ; giving 
 that up, he hoped to tire out the patience of 
 his untimely visitors ; at length, with many ex- 
 clamations, more human than divine, he rolled
 
 80 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 from his bed, and stepping to the postern- 
 door, peered peevishly through the wicket. 
 
 "Are ye going to knock the house down?" 
 he cried, "that ye come battering at our 
 doors like a parcel of heathenly miscreants, 
 disturbing the midnight vigils of a priest with 
 a clatter more befitting a drunken party 
 at a Yenta. Who ? or what is it that ye 
 want ? say ! " 
 
 "We are sent by the Alcade," said one, 
 "to fetch the body of Juan Yasquez which 
 was brought here this afternoon. You may 
 tell your master, the padre, the sooner he lets 
 us in the better." 
 
 Hearing what they came for — indeed he had 
 shrewdly guessed the occasion of this unusual 
 visit — the good man had no mind to get himself 
 into a scrape by opposing the officers of the 
 civil authorities; he softened his tone, therefore, 
 at the same time that he set a restraint upon 
 his ill humour, but endeavoured to put the 
 soldiers away by telling them there were two
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 81 
 
 gentlemen lying within in a very precarious 
 state, and that were they disturbed it would 
 certainly be the death of them, there and 
 then. ^^ Mire amigos,'' he added, '^if you 
 go away peaceably you shall have the body 
 in the morning, and I dare vouch for it, the 
 gentlemen will not forget your forbearance." 
 
 '' Homhre !^^ cried the corporal, ^^ soldiers 
 must obey orders. If you don't open amis- 
 tosamente (in a friendly way), we shall have 
 to get in by force." 
 
 ''' Dios mio !'' exclaimed the priest; but 
 'tis better that I suffer for doing well than 
 for evil-doing ; now, you carnal-minded men, 
 enter, and follow me quietly if you can." 
 
 So saying, he admitted two soldiers and a 
 corporal, all three of whom he led into Fabian's 
 room. The priest at no time regarded the 
 military powers Avith a friendly eye ; at the 
 present he was considerably put about by 
 the small detachment that had thus rudely 
 pulled him from his bed to ransack his 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 premises, whether he would or no. In this 
 temper he resolved to give the searchers as 
 much trouble as he could; to be sure he 
 did not at all like being the receiver of dead 
 robbers ; but a certain respect that he had 
 conceived for his guests, assisted by a latent 
 faith in the liberality of Englishmen, out- 
 weighed this objection, and prompted him 
 to gratify the whim of the elder one, if this 
 could be. done by thwarting the soldiers. In 
 conducting these to Fabian, our padre, who 
 never mistook his man, foresaw that the readi- 
 ness and good humour of the youth would be 
 no small obstacle in the way for the upsetting 
 of their purpose. 
 
 Quite awake to what was going forward, 
 Fabian sat up in his bed prepared to receive 
 the party which his host now ushered in. 
 
 " We want the body of Yasquez," said the 
 corporal imperatively, in reply to a question 
 put by the other. 
 
 ^^Well, my good man!" returned Fabian,
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 83 
 
 ^^what do you come to me for — I^m not the 
 body of Vasquez." 
 
 '^ But you've got it concealed here," said 
 the corporal, " and if you don't give it up 
 smartly, I'll soon oblige you to do so/' 
 
 ^^ You're very obliging, no doubt, Mr. Cor- 
 poral ; but on my honour I was not aware, 
 till you mentioned it, sir, that I had the 
 body of Vasquez concealed here. Oh ! pray 
 look under the bed — there's nothing unusual 
 there. Would you like to examine my pockets ? 
 He was very difficult to catch when alive ; 
 there's no saying how hard he mayn't be 
 to find now." Hearing Raven astir in the 
 adjoining chamber, Fabian did his best to 
 keep the soldiers still in check. 
 
 " I advise you to give him up," said the 
 corporal, losing his temper. ^' If you keep 
 me here much longer, I shall take you before 
 the Alcade." 
 
 ^^ You are a remarkably ingenious corporal,'' 
 cries Fabian, ^4f you can carry me before the 
 
 G 2
 
 84 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Alcade while I keep you here. But/' he 
 added, affecting an injui'ed air, ^^ 'tis too 
 bad to talk of punishing me, when I have 
 positively done your work on the high-road 
 at the risk of my life. Do you think I am 
 going to shoot robbers for you to bag ? No, no ! 
 Since you so particularly wanted Yasquez, I 
 wonder you did not take him when he lived ! 
 Not that 'tis much to be wondered at, neither, 
 for the deuce take me if I don't think you 
 were all afraid of him." 
 
 ^^ Afraid!" exclaimed the three soldiers, in 
 a breath. ^^We afraid, forsooth! Vaya! 
 'Tis the Americans (they took our Englishmen 
 for such) that are cowards, and not the 
 Mexicans. Caramba!^^ 
 
 '^Americans cowards!" cries Fabian in a 
 pet. " Who ever heard of an American being a 
 coward ? Why, you miserable wretches, didn't 
 we thrash you till, like a parcel of swamped 
 mice, you hadn't a hole to run to ?" 
 
 "Who says the Americans thrashed us?"
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 85 
 
 exclaimed the corporal, a little intimidated by 
 Fabian's well-feigned rage. 
 
 '' I say so." 
 
 '' Then you lie ! and as you won't give up 
 the body, I'll take you instead." Here the 
 corporal accompanied his words with suitable 
 action. 
 
 *^ Excuse me!" said the youth, whipping 
 his revolver from under the bed-clothes, and 
 thrusting the muzzle of it mthin a few inches 
 of the other's nose. ^' When a man yields to 
 the impetuosity of his temper he usually finds 
 himself — up a tree. My meaning is, if either 
 you, or either of your men, move head or tail, 
 I'll blow your addle brains into their pudding 
 faces. Just so. Now, let us be reasonable. 
 Wherefore do you want the body of Vasquez ? 
 I give you my honour he is quite dead ; and, 
 unless you go on searching for him, he will 
 never trouble any of you more." 
 
 '^ We want him," said the corporal, sulkily, 
 " to make an example of."
 
 86 A WILL AND A WAY* 
 
 " Bless US, and save us, man ! you must be 
 in a sad plight if you have no better patterns 
 to stick up for examples than he ! '^ 
 
 " Come," said the corporal, turning in dis- 
 gust to his men, ^^ we'll search the house; 
 there's nothing to be got of such fools as this 
 fellow ! " With this he left Fabian to enter the 
 chamber, wherein Eaven had just been heard 
 to move. 
 
 This room, like the first, was a small 
 apartment in which the body had been placed. 
 At the farther end of it was Kaven's bed-room, 
 whose other door opened into the garden. 
 The soldiers soon perceived, by the blood 
 upon the floor, that the object of their search 
 had been removed. Passing on to the outer 
 chamber they found the entrance to this was 
 locked from the garden side ; after wasting 
 some futile efforts to burst it open, they 
 bethought them of going round the front way ; 
 but the night was pitch dark, and, since there 
 was no lantern to be had, they groped about
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 87 
 
 amid flower beds and fruit trees, catching 
 nothing but each other, and an occasional 
 knock upon their own shins. 
 
 Meanwhile Raven was busy with his affairs. 
 He had overheard enough of the parley be- 
 tween the corporal's guard and Fabian to learn 
 the cause of the disturbance ; and, though so 
 stiff and giddy as scarcely to be able to walk, he 
 took up the robber's body, and hurrying away 
 with it into the garden, locked his pursuers in 
 behind him. In the exertion of carrying his 
 lifeless and heavy burden the bandage which 
 bound up his wound was knocked from his 
 head. While the blood trickled down his 
 face, every minute found him less equal to 
 his undertaking. The same darkness which 
 frustrated the search of the soldiers, though it 
 served him in this, made it equally difficult 
 for him to direct his own steps. But the 
 noise they made when one of the party fell 
 upon the other enabled him to move in a 
 contrary line to them ; yet, notwithstanding
 
 88 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 his precautions, once or twice so near came 
 the hider and seekers together, it was only 
 by remaining motionless, or by lying flat down, 
 that Eaven avoided their clutches. 
 
 Presently he heard the corporal send one of 
 his men for a torch, swearing he would not leave 
 the place though he should hunt till daylight. 
 Almost in despair of accomplishing the task 
 which for some secret purpose he had bound 
 himself to perform, he unexpectedly discerned 
 a dark mass, which proved to be a tool house, 
 close at hand ; entering this he felt about till 
 he found a spade, then pushing on till he 
 could hear no more of the corporal, set him- 
 self to dig, with all his might, a hole big 
 enough to bury his rescued charge. 
 
 When he had completed his labour so far, 
 he sank exhausted upon the heap of fi^eshly 
 thrown up soil ; the soft mould yielded kindly 
 to his form ; its smell and coolness lulled his 
 fevered senses. Faintness bowed his spirit with 
 a gentle longing for sleep. Hard by the spot
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 89 
 
 where he lay was a basin, formed by nature, 
 amongst some rocks ; a very small stream of 
 water fell into the basin, and the purl of the 
 running water was music in his ears ; mingled 
 with this sound were the incessant chirruping 
 of the grasshopper, and the monotonous croak 
 of the frog tribe. Just now the moon rose 
 upon the ridged horizon ; her colour was that 
 of burnished gold ; not pale as in colder atmos- 
 pheres. Her disk seemed ten times its wonted 
 size, the petty objects which crossed her light so 
 magnified her grandeur. Raven was conscious 
 'of all this ; but oblivion waved her magic wand, 
 and a heavy veil crept gradually between his 
 senses and the world around them. A little 
 more and it had been too late. But the spirit 
 and the body, though chained together, are 
 not one — a sudden recollection of the truth 
 gave instantaneous vigour to his will. He 
 flung aside the torpor which oppressed him, 
 and again he grappled manfully with his task. 
 Turning its face towards the moon, a flood of
 
 90 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 rays poured down upon the corpse. The stem, 
 immoveable features gleamed white and cold. 
 Their fierceness had departed ; yet were they 
 set in grim defiance ; oft repeated scenes of dan- 
 ger, of reckless violence, had stamped their last- 
 ing impress, and more than one ugly cicatrice 
 registered a tale even uglier than the wound. 
 ^^Yes!" murmured Raven, as he laid the 
 body in its grave, ^^ since so many must suffer 
 for one — need was that One should suffer 
 for all. God have mercy on us.^' Having 
 smoothed the earth above the grave, he 
 walked hastily back towards the house. He 
 gained the door, reeled when he touched it, 
 staggered as it opened, and fell senseless 
 straight into the arms of the corporal.
 
 91 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "Where is this letter?" enquired Sir Foy 
 of his spouse, in a snappish tone of voice. 
 " It appears to me, Lady Derisley, you take 
 mons'ous little trouble about people who cer- 
 tainly have some claim to your interest." 
 
 " My dear Sir Foy," returned her ladyship 
 impassively, *^ I thought you had seen it." 
 
 "Well, ma'am, who said I hadn't seen it? 
 Is that any reason why I shouldn't see it 
 again, if I choose — see it a dozen times — 
 
 d n it, ma'am, a hundred times, if I choose. 
 
 It so happens I haven't seen it at all yet." 
 
 "Belinda," said Lady Derisley to her 
 daughter, "have you got Fabian Harrod's 
 letter?"
 
 92 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 " I have not set eyes on it, mother, since 
 the morning/' returned the young lady ; ^^ I 
 suppose Mr. Harrod must have it ; it was 
 written to him." 
 
 ^^ Of course," resumed Sir Foy, ^' when I 
 want anything no one has got it, nobody 
 knows where it is to be found — and zounds ! 
 nobody takes any pains to look for it. FU be 
 bound the letter is in one of your pockets now. 
 But women's pockets are like their tongues ; 
 there's no measuring the length of 'em. An' I 
 had a way in it, d — mme ! but I'd sew up 
 the one, and put the slit in t'other." 
 
 ^^Here, SiiM here it is!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Harrod; ^'I had forgotten I had it in the 
 pocket of this coat." 
 
 ^^Ugh!" grunted Sir Foy, *4ike enough. 
 Well, Sir, you don't expect me to read it, do 
 you?" 
 
 ^'Will you permit me. Sir Foy,", said Mr. 
 Harrod, 'Ho read it aloud?" 
 
 '^ Yes, yes ! you read it, Harrod, you read
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 93 
 
 it. I never can make top or bottom of a 
 woman's mincing vocables." 
 
 Here the baronet made an effort to draw 
 his chair closer to the fire. He was, however, 
 such a podgy little man, and his chair was so 
 much bigger than himself, the attempt threw 
 him into a perfect fury. Having pacified 
 this, and assisted in the movement of the 
 seat, Mr. Harrod commenced reading aloud 
 the contents of his son's letter. 
 
 It is not necessary for us to describe the 
 brief notification Fabian had written his father 
 from Perote, simply to say that he and Eaven 
 had changed their minds, and should not now 
 be home until the arrival of the next steamer. 
 The letter, it is true, contained some little 
 account of Mexico — some sketch of the pas- 
 sage fi:'om the capital — and just as much 
 general matter as the hurry of the occasion 
 had allowed him to put together. It only 
 concerns us at present to notify Mr. Harrod's 
 version of his son's letter, together with the
 
 94 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 effect which his reading produced upon the 
 Derisleys. 
 
 " Ay ! ^tis very nice of him remembering 
 me in that way," cried the baronet. ^' Just 
 read that passage agam Harrod." 
 
 " On no account," read Mr. Harrod, " omit 
 to make my dutiful regards to Sir Foy. Your 
 mention of his health rejoices me beyond 
 measure. He is indeed a wonderful man, 
 and will doubtless long continue to astonish 
 us aU." 
 
 ^^ Bravo!" cried Sir Foy, "the boy is a 
 spirited boy. He is not one of your selfish 
 lads who think of no one but themselves, like 
 most young men of the day." 
 
 The baronet's eldest son, who sat by, but 
 had not spoken as yet, here winked his eye 
 at his sister — who at once turned her head 
 to express disgust at the unrefined manner of 
 her brother. 
 
 "You heard the postscript, Sir?" added 
 Mr. Harrod.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 95 
 
 " Not a word of it. The women never told 
 me there was so much as a single word of me 
 in the letter." 
 
 ^' I never saw the passage which Mr. Har- 
 rod has just read," murmured Belinda. 
 
 " Shall I read you the postscript, Sir?" 
 
 '' Yes, to be sure." 
 
 "P.S.," began Mr. Harrod, drawing a 
 candle closer to the letter, as if the better to 
 make it out. ^^ P.S. — I have picked up some 
 rather curious little trophies in the course of 
 my travels ; and am so conceited as to hope 
 Sir F. will do me the honour to accept some 
 memento from amongst them. Believe me to 
 be your affectionate son, Fabian Harrod." 
 
 " That boy has a heart, Harrod ! " exclaimed 
 Sir Foy emphatically. Yes, sir, he has a 
 heart!" 
 
 '' How very odd," said Miss Derisley ; ^^ I 
 never observed there was any postscript to 
 the letter." 
 
 ** It was very badly written," observed Mr.
 
 96 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Harrod carelessly, thrusting the letter into 
 the fire." 
 
 *^ You haven't burnt it?" cried Sir Foy. 
 
 '' I hope, Sir, you didn't want to keep it ! 
 Dear ! how thoughtless of me to be sure ! " and 
 in taking the tongs to pull it out from the 
 bottom of the grate Mr. Harrod accidentally 
 let the burning letter fall into a hotter place 
 on the top. 
 
 ^'And so," said Sir Foy, ^Hhey will be 
 here in a fortnight ? " 
 
 "Yes!" said Mr. Harrod, "in less than 
 that now. Fabian will be quite a hero 
 when we get him back — will he not Miss 
 Derisley ? " 
 
 " Quite indeed," returned Belinda, without 
 looking up from her work ; " and Mr. Raven 
 too," she added. 
 
 " Raven," cried Sir Foy, " Pshaw ! I don't 
 believe he has half the spirit of your boy. 
 Never could make much of that fellow. What 
 say you Harrod ? "
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 97 
 
 Mr. Han'od only smiled in reply. 
 
 "Ah!" said the baronet, "you are too 
 good-natured to speak up. I wonder you 
 allowed the youngster to travel with a half- 
 crazy chap like that.'' 
 
 " My son joined Mr. Raven in Mexico, Sir ; 
 and being such old acquaintances — both, too, 
 on their way home — it was natural Fabian 
 should take advantage of a companion." 
 
 " True, true ! Travellers can't always 
 choose their company." 
 
 "Surely, father," chimed in Miss Belinda, 
 " barring Mr. Raven's political opinions, 
 you cannot say but he is a very good 
 man." 
 
 " I don't know what you call a good man 
 
 Miss. I should call the fellow a d d 
 
 heretic. Whsit say you Harrod ? " 
 
 " I believe. Sir," said this gentleman, " he 
 is supposed to entertain rather atheistical 
 notions." 
 
 " Ah ! I thought so ! Well ! they say give 
 
 VOL. L H
 
 98 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 the devil his due. Old Nick '11 help himself 
 in this case, I take it. Ha, ha ! " 
 
 " For shame, father !" cried Miss Derisley. 
 
 '^ What do you know about him ? " exclaimed 
 the baronet. '' He's not going to marry you, 
 so you'd better not trouble your head about 
 him." 
 
 Miss Behnda sighed, but held her tongue. 
 
 ^' He might as well subscribe to the hunt," 
 put in the baronet's son and heir. ^^ What's 
 the good of a man who don't hunt himself, 
 and don't help other people to hunt ? " 
 
 "My dear Allan!" cried his sister, "you 
 fancy every one is as selfish as yourself Mr. 
 Eaven does more good with his money, a 
 thousand times over, than if he kept fifty 
 packs of your nasty fox dogs." 
 
 " You know you only say that to make your- 
 self disagreeable," returned the brother. " If I 
 had said Raven was a trump, you would have 
 puSed him to bits as readily as a monkey 
 would pluck a chicken."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 99 
 
 " Do you imagine," asked Lady Derisley, 
 blandly, ^Hhat Eaven has money?" 
 
 ^^Mr. Harrod answered her ladyship . with 
 a significant shake of the head." 
 
 "You think not?" said Sir Foy. 
 
 '^ I fancy not," returned Mr. Harrod. 
 " Though Raven is too cautious a man ever 
 to speak of himself." 
 
 " I wonder," said the heir, "if he means 
 to renew his lease of Wyldeacre ; if not we 
 must look out for another tenant." 
 
 "Ay!" said the baronet; "but I won't 
 have you meddle. Harrod will see about 
 that." 
 
 " Pray leave it to me," said Mr. Harrod, " I 
 will see you are not troubled in any way 
 about the matter ; though I feel sure Raven 
 intends to stay on." 
 
 "What makes you think so?" inquired 
 Lady Derisley, without betraying the least 
 interest by her manner. ^ 
 
 " What?" echoed Mr. Harrod with a sneer, 
 
 H 2
 
 100 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 only perceptible to her ladyship, ''to be near 
 the Sigismonds, to be sure ! " 
 
 " He is a very great friend of theirs, is he 
 not?" interposed Belinda. 
 
 "He would like to be a near relation," 
 observed Mr. Harrod. 
 
 '' By-the-bye, Sir," said Allan, turning to 
 his father, " haven't you asked the Sigismonds 
 to dine here to-morrow ? " 
 
 "Yes, I have, sir!" replied the baronet; 
 " but I did not ask them to give you an occa- 
 sion of flirting with the daughter." 
 
 " You'll give it, nevertheless, if they come," 
 muttered Mr. Allan in an under-tone. 
 
 "Fye!" whispered his sister, "you ought 
 to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 " I suppose. Miss, you wouldn't flirt if you 
 had a chance ! Will a duck swim?" 
 
 "You know Allan," observed his mother, 
 " Miss Sigismond does not inherit Nordefall." 
 
 " Well ! what of that, my lady ?" 
 
 " Merely that you wouldn't be so silly as to
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 101 
 
 think of marrying a girl with a paltry three 
 or four hundi'ed a-year, I suppose." 
 
 " Perhaps, maclre mio, I should not be so 
 silly as to think of marrying Miss Sigismond. 
 But I do not see how that affects my inno- 
 cent flirtation." 
 
 Here the young gentleman stretched his 
 legs on the hearth-rug — picked his teeth 
 with one hand, and thrust the other into his 
 pocket. After a little while he turned his 
 rings, looked at his watch, flourished about a 
 scented pocket-handkerchief of the finest cam- 
 bric, yawned, and went off to smoke in his 
 own room. 
 
 " I am so glad, for the sake of the Sigis- 
 monds," resumed Belinda, '^ that Mr. Eaven 
 is to be back so soon. I think they miss 
 him a good deal; at least I know Meriel 
 does." 
 
 ^'1 know another person," whispered Mr. 
 Harrod, "who is counting on the return ot 
 the travellers."
 
 102 A WILL AND A WAY, 
 
 ^^Who?" asked Belinda. 
 
 " Who ? Miss Derisley ! How can you 
 ask ? Fabian of course." 
 
 ^^I heard from Granstein a day or two 
 since/' said Belinda, changing the subject 
 abruptly; "my informant told me Lady Fitz- 
 john was going to-morrow to stay with the 
 Sigismonds. If this be the case, it may 
 prevent their dining with us.'' 
 
 " That little fool," said Sir Foy, "is always 
 in the way." 
 
 "Poor little woman!" exclaimed Lady 
 Derisley." 
 
 "Well! I beheve she is harmless," said 
 Belinda. 
 
 " I tell you she is a fool !" cried Sir Foy. 
 
 After which they went to bed.
 
 10 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Mr. Sigismond — ^the owner of Nordefall — 
 stood at his easel encircled by a halo of art. 
 His studio was thrown into grey rusty shade. 
 A subdued light fell upon his canvass. The 
 dark recesses of the chamber seemed tenanted 
 by a troop of spectres. These were draped 
 dummies, naked casts, torsos, masks, and 
 limbs. Ai^ound the walls hung, fi-amed or 
 pinned there, sketches, designs, and photo- 
 graphs. Portfolios lay open on the floor, 
 side by side with colour-boxes and books of 
 many sorts. Lanzi, Kugler, Vasari, justled 
 elbows with poets and philosophers of every 
 age. By aid of then* dust, resuscitated with 
 turpentine, pigments of veimilion, and white
 
 104 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 lead, they took the form of breathing 
 godesses — ultramarine the heavens in which 
 they had their being. 
 
 The subject of Mr. Sigismond's picture was 
 this — Psyche. How fond artists are of Psyche ! 
 Persuaded by her sisters that her invisible 
 lord is a serpent, Psyche steals, armed with 
 knife and lantern, to the couch whereon he is 
 sleeping. When she beholds, in place of a 
 dragon. Love himself, she is filled with admi- 
 ration at his beauty, and remains to gaze 
 with rapture on his charms. 
 
 He could not have picked a more pregnant 
 allegory from the whole cycle of heathen 
 mythology. 
 
 ^^No," said the artist, stepping back and 
 shaking his grey locks mournfully ; " Meriel's 
 nose will not serve for a model ; it is neither 
 Grecian nor Roman, and that's the truth 
 of it!" 
 
 ^^ In spite of which," breathed a musi- 
 cal voice behind him, ^^Meriel would not
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 105 
 
 change it for the best marble one ever 
 chiselled." 
 
 This young lady was Miss Sigismond. I 
 should like to describe her if I could; but 
 positively it were as easy to catch a sun- 
 beam — and, now I've used the simile, I think 
 no better could be found. She was so like a 
 sunbeam — so radiant and so joyous. She 
 was indeed a perfect child of the sun, and 
 would bask in it till her fair skin was tanned 
 as ^^ the freckled cowslip." Some might 
 think such tints of health inelegant ; but let 
 them see the carmine of her sweet lips, or 
 fancy that colour — snow, milk, or ivory are 
 all too cold to typify it — where envious Phoebus 
 even, she forbade to peep ! Her hair — most 
 profuse — ^was really full of light ; it was like 
 rich translucent waves of liquid amber, flowing 
 — nay, ovei'flowing! And as to figure, Venus 
 would have torn her eyes out for envy, had 
 she beheld so exquisite a form. 
 
 " What ! you there ? " cried the artist,
 
 106 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 turning to cast a loving glance at her who 
 had stolen unobserved behind him. ^'I never 
 saw you." 
 
 *^ Haven't I heard an old song about a 
 faithless creature who never had one love in 
 his heart but he had two in his eye ? Come, 
 thou unnatural parent, bestow one moment's 
 thought upon thy neglected and much — — 
 Oh ! but you mustn't give that butterfly 
 fluttering round Psyche's lamp such a mon- 
 strous tail ! If that's meant for Love's ideal, 
 it should be lighter than gossamer. An old 
 bumble-bee is more ethereal than this death's- 
 head moth ! " 
 
 ^^Too material, eh?" said Mr. Sigismond, 
 stepping back. ^^ Yes — you're right, Merie — 
 Cumque opere in proprio soleat se ping ere 
 pictor, or, as the paraphrase hath it, ^By 
 nature's sympathetic power we see.' Thy 
 intuition detects the error. There (re-touch- 
 ing the butterfly) ; is that better ? Now, just 
 let me see your nose ! "
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 107 
 
 " No, no ; my nose won't sit still ; it has 
 to lead me off this instant to meet a friend 
 who's coming to pay us a visit. Who do you 
 think it is, darling ? " 
 
 " Lord Granstein, perhaps." 
 
 *^ Nonsense ! — they've got a party of their 
 own. Guess again." 
 
 •Mr. Sigismond complied with the young 
 lady's request; but his thoughts were so 
 engaged in the painting, he might have gone 
 on guessing with mechanical obedience as 
 long as Miss Meriel chose to amuse herself 
 with his distracted manner. 
 
 '' What think you of Goody Two Shoes? " 
 cried she, at last. 
 
 ^^Lady Fitzjohn ! " said Mr. Sigismond, 
 pretending to be slightly surprised. 
 
 *^And she comes," said Meriel, ^^on the 
 very day we dine with the Derisleys. What 
 must we do with her?" 
 
 ^^ Put her in the blue attic," said the 
 painter, who had only heard the last sentence.
 
 108 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^^ Incorrigible father ! What, I say, is to 
 become of Goody if we go to Carrol? It 
 wouldn't be civil, I suppose, to put the 
 Derisley's off on the plea of her arrival ? " 
 
 ^^ Impossible," said Mr. Sigismond, begin- 
 ning to attend. 
 
 ^^ Nor could we well take her with us ?" 
 
 ^^ Certainly not. Derisley might be rude. 
 Besides, I don't care to put myself under obli- 
 gations to any man." 
 
 " Nor any woman. Very well, then, 
 Goody must stop at home and take care of 
 the cat." 
 
 ^' StiU," said Mr. Sigismond, laying his 
 pallet down, ^^ I've a good mind to send an 
 excuse. I'm sure I don't want to dine at 
 Carrol." Then looking at Meriel, medita- 
 tively — "No," he muttered; " why should I 
 be so selfish ? We'll dine with the Derisley's. 
 Lady Fitzjohn must amuse herself how she 
 
 can." 
 
 Miss Sigismond now tripped down to the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 109 
 
 Lodge gate, where she met her expected 
 visitor. When Lady Fitzjohn recognised her 
 young friend, she gave the reins to the groom, 
 scrambled out of the pony chaise, and hastened 
 to embrace Meriel with abundant kisses on 
 cheeks and forehead. 
 
 Meriel's mother, you must know, had died 
 when our young lady was a mere child. Miss 
 Sigismond was, therefore, most fortunate in 
 the supervision of so worthy a friend. For 
 although Lady Fitzjohn now lived in a cottage 
 of her oAvn about a mile from Nordefall, she 
 had, until lately, resided at the house of her 
 cousin, Mr. Sigismond, expressly to watch 
 over the education of her kinsman's child. 
 And since she sought no other return for this 
 labour of love than the affection of her charge, 
 so sincere was Meriel's for her, that the good 
 little woman was no less happy in her reward 
 than she had been in the discharge of her 
 self-imposed duty. The extreme familiarity 
 existing between Lady Fitzjohn and Miss
 
 110 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Sigismond, may at first appear a little like 
 want of respect on the part of the latter ; 
 but her superior force of character and intel- 
 ligence gave the ascendancy to the one 
 whom age alone had placed in a subordinate 
 relationship. 
 
 ^^My dearest Goody," exclaimed Meriel, 
 responding enthusiastically to the other's em- 
 brace, ^^ I thought you were never coming 
 back again to the Priory. What has kept you 
 so long at Gran stein ? " 
 
 ^^ The Mountseers would not let me go, 
 darhng; but here I am, safe and sound, — and 
 you, my pet? — why you look prettier and 
 more charming than ever." 
 
 " Fie, Goody ! I'm afraid you must have 
 been listening to the tongue of flattery your- 
 self. Your own seems to lisp its accents so 
 naturally." 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! Those blushes prove my 
 words to be no flatterers. As to what I hear, 
 you may be sure I oftener listen to praises of
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. Ill 
 
 your beauty than of my own. Though that's 
 no great comphment to you, is it Meriel ? " 
 
 '^ I see Goody you will never come to years 
 of discretion. But now do tell me, whom did 
 you meet at Granstein ? I want to hear about 
 the whole party." 
 
 " Well ! to begin, Lord Granstein was 
 there." 
 
 '^ He, of course ; who else ? " 
 
 *^ Mr. Lapwing, and the German philoso- 
 pher." 
 
 " They are fixtures. Well ? " 
 
 '^ Lots of county people, I don't remember 
 who — except Mr. Pilgrim — he was there." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Meriel, demurely. "He 
 preached on Sunday, I suppose?" 
 
 " He did," said Lady Fitzjohn, " and I've 
 been thinking ever since what a wicked woman 
 I am." 
 
 " Poor Goody ! I hope you'll make haste 
 and grow better." 
 
 " Ah ! it's very shocking ?"
 
 112 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^^What, dear? Mr. Pilgrim, or his ser- 
 mon.'^ 
 
 Lady Fitzjolin shook her head. ^^Well!" 
 she sighed, " I hope some of us won't go 
 there!" 
 
 "If you're thinking of any bad place, 
 Goody, I hope none of us will go there. But 
 they say a certain person's not so black as 
 he's painted; and, unless Mr. Pilgrim is a 
 friend of his, I don't see how he is to know 
 so much about him : — ^but never mind Mr. 
 Pilgrim for the present — ^tell me something 
 else." 
 
 " What else can I tell you ? — Oh ! I mustn't 
 forget Lord Granstein — ^he charged me with 
 all sorts of pretty messages to you." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder," said the young lady, 
 curtly. 
 
 " He says he has sent for a beautiful dog 
 from the Alps, on purpose for you." 
 
 "If it's a puppy when it comes," said 
 Meriel, coloring, " he had better keep it."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 113 
 
 ^* That's not pretty of you, my love/' re- 
 monstrated Lady Fitzjohn. 
 
 " True," said Meriel. ^' I did not mean to be 
 hard upon him. — He's a good-hearted boy, I 
 believe ; but I wish he would marry and settle, 
 or travel and not come back." 
 
 Lady Fitzjohn looked disappointed. " By- 
 the-bye," she presently said, ^' Mr. Derisley, 
 who rode over to Granstein a day or two since, 
 told us Mr. Harrod had received a letter from 
 Fabian, and that he and Mr. Raven were ex- 
 pected in a fortnight." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Meriel, indifferently. 
 
 "Indeed!" echoed Lady Fitzjohn. "Aint 
 you glad our old friends are so soon to be with 
 us again?" 
 
 " Belinda told me something of their re- 
 turn." 
 
 " And you never said a word to me !" 
 
 " That was hardly possible, seeing I have 
 not had an opportunity." 
 
 " So, they are coming back at last ! What 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 a time they have been absent ; surely it must 
 be nearly a year since they left England." 
 
 " Nearly two, you mean, Goody," said 
 Meriel. 
 
 *^ Nonsense, my dear, it cannot be so long 
 as that." 
 
 ^^AU I know is, if nothing but dates will 
 satisfy you, that Mr. Raven left England on 
 the 4th October, 18—." 
 
 ^^ One would think," exclaimed Lady Fitz- 
 john, laughingly, ^^ you took a great interest 
 in Mr. Raven, that you so accurately remem- 
 ber his movements." 
 
 ''So I do," said Meriel, frankly. "Next 
 to you. Goody, and papa, there is no one I 
 so much respect as Raven." 
 
 '' I am sure he is very fond of you," said 
 Lady Fitzjohn, emphatically. ''Well, they 
 must both be glad to be here again." 
 
 " To judge by the time they have staid 
 away," said Meriel, "the probability is, they 
 found America more agreeable than shire."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 115 
 
 *^ I wonder," said Lady Fitzjohn, " Fabian 
 remained so long abroad. If I were Belinda, 
 I should not feel greatly flattered by such 
 conduct." 
 
 " If you were Belinda; Goody, I suspect you 
 would not care a straw what Mr. Harrod did." 
 
 " What ! do you mean she does not care 
 about the man she is engaged to many ? Fie, 
 my dear, you should not say such things." 
 
 *^ No ; they say truth ought not always to 
 be spoken. But, if he does not care for her, 
 why should she care for liim ? " 
 
 " How do we know that Fabian is not very 
 much in love with Belinda ? " 
 
 ^^ I was but arguing with your deductions. 
 I thought, my dear Goody, you looked upon 
 Fabian Harrod's long absence as a proof of his 
 indifference. Of course I am no judge of such 
 matters." 
 
 " Ah ! wait a bit ; we shall be very excellent 
 judges before we are many years older, I dare 
 say." 
 
 I 2
 
 116 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ** We, my dear Goody ! Are you going to 
 be married, then ? " 
 
 " I married ! No, you silly little puss — not 
 an old woman like me — Miss Merrie I mean." 
 
 ^^ Oh ! it's me, is it? My mind has long 
 been made up." 
 
 ^^ Made up," exclaimed the astonished lady ; 
 ^Ho marry whom ? " 
 
 ^' Nobody ; I mean to be an old maid." 
 
 ^^An old fiddlestick!" 
 
 ^^ An old fiddlestick, if you like it better, 
 Goody. But here we are, at the house, so 
 you must come in and see papa." 
 
 Instead of entering by the hall-door, the 
 two ladies passed through a conservatory, 
 wliich opened into the drawing-room. The 
 taste with which this room was decorated 
 could not be more perfect. The furniture 
 was old, but still handsome ; and suited well 
 the general character of the apartment. The 
 carved black oak and faded tapestry, were set 
 off by ornaments of modern luxury ; and
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 117 
 
 shelves of costly china, vases of spring flowers, 
 flowers, musical instruments, drawings, in 
 short, all those things which are ever indubi- 
 tably symptomatic of a fair inhabitant, pro- 
 claimed this room to be Meriel's, as surely 
 as the trappings of the studio denoted the 
 sanctum of her father. 
 
 ^^ What violets !" exclaimed Lady Fitzjohn, 
 stooping to smell a heap of flowers which lay 
 scattered upon the table, and which Meriel 
 had not yet had time to put in water. 
 
 ^^ Poor little flowrets," said the gu'l; '^ their 
 wounded stems parch them with thirst, and 
 they reproach my neglect with their dying 
 odours." 
 
 " Ah, that beautiful thing ! " said Lady 
 Fitzjohn, picking up the miniature portrait of 
 a handsome boy, that lay open beneath the 
 violet leaves. ^' How like it is to you, 
 Merie ! " 
 
 " Poor brother ! I often keep his picture 
 before me for company's sake, and grow al-
 
 118 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 most as fond of it as I should have been of 
 the original, had I ever known him." 
 
 "To think so sweet a youth should have 
 perished by so sad a fate." 
 
 " Sad, indeed ! " returned Miss Sigismond. 
 " His death nearly drove my father mad, 
 I've heard him say ; constantly, too, I notice 
 that the thoughts of it are inseparably asso- 
 ciated with a superstitious terror of the Prior's 
 
 curse." 
 
 " Alas ! " sighed Lady Fitzjohn ; " his own 
 brother died almost as suddenly ; then his 
 mother was full of strange stories, and she 
 treasured up all the old legends that related 
 to that mysterious ban." 
 
 " It is*" remarkable," said Meriel, pensively, 
 " how time out of mind some fatal accident 
 or other, should have verified the terms of 
 the curse which is supposed to hang over 
 every member of the Sigismond family. I 
 sometimes wonder if I, too, am doomed to 
 suiFer like the rest of them."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 119 
 
 ** God forbid ! " prayed the elder lady, with 
 sincere devotion. " But let us talk no more 
 on such a melancholy subject ; come, I am 
 anxious to see your father.'^ 
 
 Mr. Sigismond was still working at his 
 Loves. 
 
 *^ Cupids ! Cupids ! '^ cried Lady Fitzjohn ; 
 " you are always making Cupids. I wish 
 you would give me a fine pair of wings, like 
 those." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Bessy ! " exclaimed the 
 artist ; ^^ a sight good for sore eyes." 
 
 ** But yours seem better than usual," re- 
 turned his cousin. 
 
 " A-lack-a-day ! " said he ; " they get 
 worse and worse every hour ; for I can't 
 tell a madder fi'om a lake now. This morn- 
 ing I found myself painting Psyche's eyes 
 green instead of blue." 
 
 "Making a ^green-eyed monster' of her at 
 once," said Meriel. " After all, they say love 
 and jealousy are never separate. But really,
 
 120 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 dear father, it is getting too late for painting 
 any longer to-day ; I insist on your sparing 
 your eyes forthwith ; besides, by the time you 
 have had a little trot with Goody and me, it 
 will be time to get ready for Carol." 
 
 ^^ What a bother those Derisleys are," cried 
 the painter. " They always ask us exactly 
 when it is inconvenient to go." 
 
 •^ Yes, darling," cried Meriel ; " because it 
 is always inconvenient for you to go." 
 
 " You will be amused when you get there," 
 suggested Lady Fitzjohn. '^ Amongst others, 
 you will meet Mr. Harrod, who can be very 
 agreeable, if he likes." 
 
 ^' I would rather not meet Mr. Harrod; if 
 anything could induce me to do a rude thing, 
 and send an excuse, it would be to avoid 
 meeting Mr. Harrod." 
 
 '^ But, as you never break an engagement, 
 papa — " 
 
 '^ Certainly not ; an engagement, however 
 trifling, binds a man of honour ; and I hope
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 121 
 
 none can accuse me of carelessness, where 
 honour is at stake. No, I will dine with the 
 Derisleys, though the d — 1 himself be asked 
 to join us." 
 
 ^^ Charles, I'm ashamed of you ! " remon- 
 strated his cousin. 
 
 " And what do you intend to do, my 
 Lady?" 
 
 *' Never mind me ; I am always happy, 
 wherever I am, aint I Merrie ? " 
 
 "To be sure you are, Goody, whether we 
 are away or not ; it makes no difference." 
 
 " You know I didn^t mean that ; but since 
 you must so soon start, let us make the most 
 of this sunny evening by strolling down to the 
 well." 
 
 For the reader's information, it may be ad- 
 visable to explain briefly the situation and 
 condition of the ruins which Lady Fitzjohn 
 proposed to visit in the course of her walk. 
 The ancient Monastery of Nordefall, had been 
 swept away ages ago ; no trace of it remained
 
 122 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 save the materials, which had been used for 
 the construction of Mr. Sigismond's house ; 
 now frequently called the Nordefall Priory. 
 In reality, however, the title given to the 
 more modern edifice was a misnomer. For 
 some ruins of the original building, set apart 
 as the abode of the superior of the monastery, 
 still stood above ground; these, by right, pro- 
 perly owned the name of Priory. The de- 
 caying touch of time, and the hands of inten- 
 tional destroyers had, between them, left but 
 few traces of this venerable structure. The 
 only remnants were a broken line of wall ; a 
 fragment of the chapel's oriel window ; a 
 solitary arch, some under-ground vaults, and 
 a deep well, still supplied with the sweetest 
 water in the neighbourhood. 
 
 Whatever might have been the appearance 
 of the ancient monastery, it could hardly 
 have been more picturesque than the house 
 which filled its place. Look at it from which 
 side you would, the outline was equally irre-
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 123 
 
 gular. Obviously by the difference of colour 
 between the old grey bricks and some of a 
 redder hue, frequent additions had been made 
 to its size, until at length it had grown much 
 too large for the fortune of its present occu- 
 pier. One remarkable feature about the ex- 
 isting priory — the ^^ Priory" we may henceforth 
 call it — was its chimneys. They clustered in 
 groups, or towered singly out of the roof in 
 such numbers, and with such capriciousness 
 of form, that one might have fancied the 
 house built for the chimneys, rather than that 
 these could be separately of any use to the 
 house. Patches of the walls were overgrown 
 with ivy. In other places, clematis and 
 creeping roses were trained with care. The 
 garden, close at hand, was under MerieFs 
 special charge ; of that, therefore, nothing 
 need be said. Beyond, in front of the house, 
 the park sloped away, losing its boundaries in 
 a thickly wooded valley, over which again a 
 view extended to a horizon nearly twenty
 
 124 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 miles distant. In summer, either at morning 
 or evening, when the low sun cast long 
 shadows, it is impossible to imagine a more 
 lovely piece of English scenery than the eye 
 scanned in this wide and varying expanse. 
 The shrubbery — ^it was at the far end of this 
 where the ruins stood — thickened and became 
 wilder the farther you got from the garden. 
 Through the wood, however, a moss-grown 
 path was kept open to the well. Along this, 
 Meriel and Lady Fitzjohn were walking until 
 it should be time for the Sigismonds to leave 
 their guest for the dinner party, which one of 
 them, at all events, would gladly have escaped 
 from. 
 
 The two ladies were chatting away upon 
 a greater variety of subjects than we could 
 enumerate in a page, when, of a sudden, 
 they were startled by a piercing scream that 
 issued from the ruins close before them. 
 Both hurried to the spot whither the cry 
 directed them. On coming to the open space
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 125 
 
 which surrounded the ruins, they saw a woman 
 on her knees at the mouth of one of the 
 vaults. The instant she perceived Meriel and 
 Lady Fitzjohn, she ran forward, waving her 
 arms with frantic gestures, as if to draw them 
 to the spot she had left. At first, so great 
 was the poor creature's terror, she could ofier 
 no explanation of its cause, but dragging Miss 
 Sigismond by the hand, she brought her to 
 the brink of the opening, and then pointed 
 at some white object which was only just 
 discernible through the gloom of the subter- 
 ranean cellar beneath. A single glance suf- 
 ficed to discover the truth ; Meriel perceived 
 that the wretched woman's child had fallen 
 into the vault, and an exclamation of horror 
 burst from her lips ; for she had no hope that 
 the infant could possibly have survived a fall 
 of at least eight or ten feet. After a short 
 consultation, it was settled that Meriel should 
 stay with the woman, while Lady Fitzjohn 
 ran back to fetch Isaac, the servant, with a
 
 126 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ladder. Scarcely less frightened than the 
 mother, the kind-hearted little widow's dismay 
 changed into despau' when she learned that 
 Isaac was out, Mr. Sigismond had gone for a 
 walk, the gardener was not in the way, and 
 that none but maid-servants were left at home. 
 She hunted everywhere for help, but none 
 could be procured. Meanwhile, Meriel at- 
 tempted in vain to console the wretched 
 mother, whose wailings grew more and more 
 distressful and distressing; at length, no 
 longer able to endure the poor woman's grief, 
 fearing the loss of time might destroy the 
 only chance of restoring the child to life, and 
 astounded at the long absence of her friend, 
 she resolved to make an effort to regain the 
 infant by her own unaided exertions. 
 
 Snatching up the woman's shawl, which lay 
 upon the ground, she speedily fastened one end 
 of it to her own plaid, and tied the other to the 
 stem of a bush which grew at the vault's 
 brink. Having ascertained, by pujling at it
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 127 
 
 with all her might, that this substitute for a 
 rope would bear a good strain, she lowered 
 herself into the hole with a degree of courage 
 and heroism which perhaps no other occasion 
 could have inspired. To her surprise, she 
 found the bottom of the cave covered with a 
 bed of soft sand ; and no sooner had she 
 raised the child to her arms, than symptoms 
 of returning life assui'ed her that stupefaction, 
 not death, was the cause of its stillness. 
 
 Rejoiced at her discovery, she was just 
 about to raise her voice to convey the glad 
 tidings to the helpless creatm^e above, when 
 her blood curdled in her veins, and the sound 
 died on her lips, as a grasp from an invisible 
 hand clutched her roughly by the shoulder. 
 She turned mechanically, but the darkness 
 prevented her distinguishing the features of 
 the being who confronted her. She could 
 only perceive that it bore the form of a man. 
 So appalled and paralysed was she by the 
 terrors of a situation which she could neither
 
 128 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 fly from nor summon relief to, that for a 
 moment presence of mind deserted her. She 
 felt her knees tremble, and a sickening sensa- 
 tion creep over her, as if a fainting fit were 
 about to end the little power she had left. 
 A movement of the child gave a fresh turn 
 to her thoughts, and instantly revived her 
 natural bravery ; she hugged the infant to her 
 bosom, partly with the womanly instinct of 
 affording it protection, and partly with a sort 
 of feeling that it gave strength and security 
 to her. The prayers she breathed when she 
 found the man s grasp on her wrist, and heard 
 his gruff voice in her ear, resembled rather 
 the impulses of the body than the supplica- 
 tions of a conscious mind. 
 
 ^^ Who the d — 1 are you, and what do you 
 want here?" were the first questions she com- 
 prehended. 
 
 ^^I am Meriel Sigismond," she replied, 
 proud of a name which none who had heard 
 could ever couple with an unfriendly thought.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 129 
 
 *^ Meriel Sigismond ! " he repeated, cover- 
 ing his mouth with his hand to disguise his 
 voice, and drawing still more into the dark. 
 
 '^ If you know me," said she, encouraged 
 by the man's manner, " you will help me, I 
 am sure, whoever you are, for I am here to 
 save a poor woman's child that has Mien into 
 the vault." 
 
 ^^I have a good mind," said he, "to take 
 the opportunity chance has thrown in my way 
 of paying off a heavy score which has stood a 
 long time atwixt me and a near relation of 
 yours. Do you know who I am ? " 
 
 " Xo," returned Meriel, terrified more than 
 ever at finding the ill consequences of declar- 
 ing her name. "I do not know who you 
 are ; but there are those already on the way 
 to find me here who will fully avenge the 
 slightest insult ; and if you stay to menace 
 me a minute longer it will be at your peril." 
 
 " Bravo ! my little game chicken ! " cried 
 the man, with a hoarse laugh, which made the 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 vaults reverberate as though a whole chorus 
 of fiends had caught up the joke. ^^ Why, 
 this is the fly going to make mincemeat of the 
 spider! To hear you talk, one 'ud fancy 
 you'd got my neck in the halter, instead of 
 your being pretty much at my mercy. Lucky 
 for you, however, I happen to be a tender- 
 hearted cove, and ha' n't no horrid wices about 
 me. But, look 'e here, if ever you blabs 
 about meeting 'ere a one in the vaults, as 
 sure as the name of Sigismond was cursed in 
 this very spot, I'm the man to bring the curse 
 home to ye. Say nought about it, and while 
 I've let ye ofi" now, I may some day live to 
 do you a better turn still." 
 
 He finished speaking, and vanished, Meriel 
 knew not whither. Just then Mr. Sigismond 
 stood at the mouth of the opening ; a ladder 
 was let down, and Meriel, with the child in 
 her arms, ascended to receive the joyful bles- 
 sings of the mother and the fond admonitions 
 of her own parent.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 131 
 
 The shades of evening concealed Miss Sigis- 
 mond's pale and frightened looks from the 
 observation of her friends. Their attention, 
 too, was naturally diverted by the original 
 object of concern ; and immediately the 
 mother had quite satisfied herself that her 
 child was both safe and sound, she vented her 
 joy in expressions of unbounded gratitude to 
 its deliverer. She cast herself at Miss Sigis- 
 mond's feet, and wept hysterically over Meriel's 
 hand, and if in the excitement which, in gentle 
 natures, succeeds to such violent shocks as. 
 hers had just sustained, a tear also fell from 
 Meriel's eye. Lady Fitzjohn, who noticed it, 
 readily accounted for it by the sympathy 
 which she herself warmly participated. 
 
 Glad, indeed, would Miss Sigismond have 
 been to confess the true cause of her weakness. 
 It would have given her infinite relief to relate 
 the particulars of an encounter which — 
 though no longer in danger — she could not 
 revert to without a shudder. But this she 
 
 K 2
 
 132 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 dared not do. For, besides the remembrance 
 of the threat with which she had been menaced, 
 she could not but reflect that if, after all, the 
 man in the vault owed her family a grudge, 
 nothing in the world but his own generosity- 
 hindered him taking advantage of her forlorn 
 and unprotected situation. She resolved, 
 therefore, — and hers was a will that kept 
 most of its determined resolutions — never to 
 breathe a syllable of the mysterious encounter. 
 Still she could not banish the subject from 
 her mind. A thousand conjectures coursed 
 through her imagination concerning the strange 
 being who dwelt in so strange a habitation. 
 ^^ Who could he be? If there merely by 
 accident, why so anxious for secresy? Why 
 so afraid of being known? Who, again, was 
 the enemy of her family ? And if an enemy, 
 was not his vicinity dangerous to her father?" 
 There was a something in the tones of his 
 voice not altogether unfamiliar to her ear. 
 She fancied now that, but for her alarm, she
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 133 
 
 would have recognised it. Yet it was unlikely 
 that he should be known to her. . No work- 
 men were employed about the niins. No 
 persons were admitted to them except under 
 the guidance of the lodge-keepers, and these 
 were the only people who had free access to 
 them, since Mr. Sigismond permitted them to 
 fetch water from the Priory well. This, 
 indeed, had been the occasion of the woman's 
 visit. She was the wife of the lodge-keeper, 
 and had been occupied in this when her child 
 fell down the vault. Could Mrs. Sandford 
 (such was her name) have any inkling of the 
 stranger's identity, character, or purpose? 
 But twist and turn the matter how she would, 
 she dared not speak to Mrs. Sandford nor to 
 any one else ; and since it was clear that to 
 continue raising suppositions would serve no 
 end but to worry her, she wisely decided to 
 think of something else immediately the 
 dangers of the vault recurred to her imagi- 
 nation.
 
 134 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The accidents recorded in the last chapter 
 delayed the Sigismonds so long, that thi-ee 
 quarters of an hour had elapsed between the 
 ringing of the Carol dinner-bell and the arrival 
 of Sir Foy's guests. Every one was out of 
 temper by the time the Nordefall party came. 
 The baronet had never ceased complaining 
 from the moment he himself had been ready 
 for the meal. The sparring between Mr. 
 Derisley and his sister had grown more 
 viciously playfal every minute. Mr. Harrod 
 kept throwing out general observations in a 
 quiet way, any one of which was acrid enough 
 to corrode the inoffensive old artist's character 
 as a gentleman, or a man of honour. Lady De-
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 135 
 
 risley smiled acquiescence with them all ; while 
 Mr. Small, the curate of the parish, persisted 
 in contradicting a crabbed spinster, who sat 
 near him, whatever she said ; and, indeed very 
 often before she had time to open her lips. 
 When the Sigismonds did enter. Sir Foy 
 jumped up so impatiently to welcome them, 
 and in such a hurry, that he tripped against 
 his footstool, and fell flat along the hearth- 
 rug, where, as usual. Miss Belinda's cat lay 
 stretched before the fire. When he rose, the 
 purple stream which trickled down his cheek 
 showed what use puss had made of her time ; 
 and a good use it certainly proved, for some 
 how or other the baronet's sufferings soon 
 put the rest of the party into better humour. 
 
 At dinner, however, amidst the hum of 
 general conversation. Sir Foy's angry voice 
 was frequently heard ; for the most part he 
 would address himself to his apathetic wife to 
 complain, as was his wont, of every dish that 
 came to table. This behaviour made Mr.
 
 136 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Sigismond, whose nature was of a refined and 
 delicate order, feel extremely ill-at-ease on 
 Lady Derisley's account. He, therefore, did 
 what he could to distract her attention. And, 
 in truth, succeeded with very little trouble, 
 because her ladyship, either from use or in- 
 difierence, paid no heed whatever to her hus- 
 band's wrath ; as for the others they were 
 too much taken up when once in then- seats 
 to think any more of their host. Mr. Small 
 prospered famously by the side of Belinda. 
 
 ^^ Ho ! how very funny you are !" cried he, 
 loud enough for every one to hear him. ^' You 
 think pale faces and white neckcloths go well 
 together. Well ! it never occurred to me be- 
 fore ; indeed, Miss Belinda, the remark — what 
 I mean — quite original." 
 
 ^' Of course," replied Miss Derisley, ^^ I do 
 not pretend to say that every man looks 
 well in a white neckcloth; but some do. I 
 always think there is such a difference be- 
 tween men."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 137 
 
 " Yes ! Oh ! that is, yes, there is," said 
 Mr. Small. 
 
 '' But talking of colours," said Miss Belinda. 
 " Black is a colour I have a special admir- 
 ation for." 
 ♦ '' Hoh ! black. Yes ! Perhaps you a little 
 flatter." 
 
 " Flatter ! " exclaimed Miss Derisley, in- 
 dignantly. "Flatter whom, Mr. Small?" 
 
 "Oh! not at all," returned the curate, 
 looking very uncomfortable. " Quite the re- 
 verse, I mean." 
 
 " That does not follow," sighed Belinda, 
 restoratively. 
 
 Mr. Small looked at the convex reflexion of 
 his face in a spoon ; then swallowed several 
 detached bread-crumbs, some of which went 
 the wrong way. Miss Derisley was greatly 
 afiected by the accident, though not so much 
 perhaps as the curate. 
 
 "A most heroic act," said Mr. Allan 
 Derisley. " I wonder you weren't afraid of
 
 138 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 meeting hobgoblins, or some such atrocious 
 creatures in those subterranean caverns. I 
 give you my honour I wouldn't do what you 
 did for the life of any beastly little baby in 
 creation." 
 
 **My father makes it sound like an 
 adventure/' said Meriel. ^' After all, what 
 was it? Are you going to Granstein again 
 soon ? " 
 
 "Not while I have so much inducement 
 to stay at home. But about the vault? 
 Didn't you feel awfully frightened ?" 
 
 " I daresay I did.'^ 
 
 Miss Sigismond turned her head. 
 
 " Really," resumed Mr. Derisley, " you are 
 so mysterious. I shall fancy soon that you 
 actually did see a ghost." 
 
 "You are at liberty to fancy anything you , 
 please, so long as you keep your fancies to 
 yourself." 
 
 "Ah ! you avoid the subject." 
 
 " And what if that be my pleasure ?"
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 139 
 
 *^ It only serves to whet my curiosity. 
 Come, Meriel, don't be so obstinate.'^ 
 
 "Mr. Derisley/' said the young lady, sud- 
 denly confronting her neighbour, " I once 
 before forbade you to address me by my 
 Christian name. It is a familiarity excusable 
 only amongst my relations, or my most inti- 
 mate friends. Neither the length of our present 
 acquaintance, nor that time doubled, will entitle 
 you to the privilege I permit to either.'' 
 
 " Did you see that aimable look she gave 
 him ? " inquired Mr. Harrod, in an under-tone, 
 of the lady of the house. 
 
 " It was not encouraging," replied Lady 
 Derisley ; '' but was it meant as it was 
 taken?" 
 
 " It had the air of sincerity," said Mr. 
 Harrod. " At any rate, if she tries that sys- 
 tem of flirtation very often, AUan is a bigger 
 fool than I take him for, if he doesn't dis- 
 cover her temper to be less sweet than her 
 face."
 
 140 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 "I don't suppose/' said Lady Derisley ^^he 
 really cares for her." 
 
 " Send him abroad for a couple of months, 
 he'll meet others who wiU be more complacent." 
 
 ^^ Do you think it so serious, then, as that 
 comes to ? " 
 
 ^^ Six weeks might do. Allan has his wits 
 about him. His affections are not likely to 
 interfere long with his interests. That ass," 
 Mr. Harrod glanced at Mr. Small, ^^ must not 
 be permitted to bray too much. He might 
 frighten other cattle out of the field." 
 
 *^ He could not have the impertinence to 
 hope it," said Lady Derisley. ^' Besides, Belinda 
 means nothing." 
 
 " May as well stop it ; Fabian mightn't 
 like the absurdity of such a trial." 
 
 " She'll be more guarded when he comes 
 back." 
 
 " I'd have her to practice restraint at once." 
 
 '' I'll tell her." 
 
 ^' Be careful how you do it," said Mr. Har-
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 141 
 
 rod. '^ Don't let her suppose you, in any way, 
 wish to control her actions. The marriage 
 must always be talked of as a thing to which 
 we merely assent; beyond that we have 
 nothing to do with it — you understand." 
 
 '^ They have both had that idea impressed 
 upon them often enough, I should think." 
 returned her ladyship. '^ However, I'll tell 
 her to be less aimable to S. to-morrow." 
 
 '' Has she spoken to you lately about 
 Fabian?" 
 
 " No, I think not." 
 
 "What did she say about the letter the 
 other night, after I was gone ? " 
 
 " She seemed interested, I thought." 
 
 "But what did she say?" 
 
 "I don't remember." 
 
 "Nonsense, you must remember what she 
 said. Did she say she was glad or sorry — she 
 must have said something." 
 
 " She remarked, as far as I remember, that 
 Fabian made no mention of her."
 
 142 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^' Humph ! did that seem to annoy her ?'* 
 
 '' No, I can't say it did much. Indeed, I 
 cannot help thinking she has grown rather 
 cool upon the matter lately." 
 
 " I don't know what reason you have for 
 thinking so, unless it be that she intends to 
 marry this scarecrow." 
 
 ''' Gracious ! How can you talk such non- 
 sense, when you know she refused Lord Flint's 
 eldest son." 
 
 ''' That pudding-headed booby !" 
 
 ^' He's heir to a peerage, and four thousand 
 a-year." ^ 
 
 " Pooh ! Fabian will be better off as a 
 commoner, and a better match, unless you 
 want her to marry rank." 
 
 '^ What difference can it make to me? 
 though I must say I should be sorry to see 
 her a pauper, poor child." 
 
 ^^ And what does your ladyship consider as 
 poverty ? " 
 
 ^^ Anything short of two or three thousand
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 143 
 
 a-year," answered Lady Derisley, with de- 
 cision. 
 
 " Their joint fortunes will be double that, 
 some day, I hope," said Mr. Harrod. " I agree 
 with you, however," he added, most signifi- 
 cantly, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, 
 ^^ anything short of two or three thousand 
 would be poverty, especially where expensive 
 tastes had become habitual, and there was 
 nothing to fall back upon but a settlement. 
 Poor Sii' Foy ! when he consulted me about his 
 will, the other day, I found it was out of his 
 power to do more for Belinda, considering the 
 jointure he pivposed to settle on your ladyship." 
 
 Lady Derisley changed coloui^ slightly, 
 then turned to converse with Mr. Sigismond. 
 
 The evening passed away, neither more nor 
 less agreeably than evenings at Carol were 
 wont to pass. Sir Foy grumbled at his wife, 
 and threatened to discharge every servant 
 in the establishment, because his coffee had 
 been poured into a cold cup. Mr. Harrod
 
 144 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 spent his time in pacifying, or in keeping the 
 baronet entertained. Mr. Small held endless 
 skeins of worsted for Miss Belinda to unwind. 
 Once he attempted to pay her a pretty com- 
 pliment, by comparing her to one of the Fates. 
 But quoting a bit of Latin, Miss Belinda 
 caught no word but the Parsoe. 
 
 '^ Talking of Parsees," said she, directly, '' I 
 once met a Parsee at a London ball, his 
 name was Bumagee Fumagee Geegeeboy — 
 wasn't that a funny name, Mr.. Small ? " 
 
 The curate made poor work of explaining 
 the mistake ; but it kept him occupied all the 
 evening. 
 
 As for Meriel, after shifting her place 
 twice or thrice to escape the importunities 
 of the future Sir Allan, she betook herself 
 for shelter to the maiden lady before mentioned. 
 
 Miss , whose eyes had never been taken 
 
 off Allan and Miss Sigismond, except to watch 
 Belinda and Mr. Small, was firmly persuaded 
 that this move of Miss Sigismond was a piece
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 145 
 
 of coquetry, intended to lieigliten her ad- 
 mirer's eagerness ; so, very soon, with most 
 transparent carelessness, she requested Mr. 
 Derisley to fetch her a screen. When near 
 her she engaged him in conversation, invited 
 him to sit down, and at last made herself 
 quite happy by making Meriel very much 
 the contrary. 
 
 Poor !Meriel ! how often she looked to see 
 if her father had done admu'ing Sir Foy's 
 celebrated Vandyke. While he, good man, 
 being three parts blind, could see nothing of the 
 picture but its frame, and stood yawning at it 
 with his back to the company long after it was 
 
 time to go, simply because he, like Miss , 
 
 fancied that Meriel was as fond of Allan as 
 this young gentleman appeared to be of the girl. 
 Happily for him, for he was too much bored, 
 and too sleepy, even to while away the time by 
 uttering polite platitudes to Lady Derisley, 
 — happily for him, Meriel at last caught her 
 parent winking and nodding to the Vandyke 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 hero ; when once the truth dawned upon 
 her, she soon put an end to their mutual sacri- 
 fices. The lateness of the hour made it 
 impossible for Allan to delay them any 
 longer.
 
 147 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The lodge at which Mrs. Sandford lived 
 was a straw-thatched cottage in the bosom of 
 a wooded glade, through which wound the road 
 up to the Priory house. In summer, oaks and 
 beeches so hemmed it in, that its position, from 
 a little way off, was but faintly indicated by 
 the wreath of blue smoke that curled above 
 the dark bed of sheltering foliage. The cot- 
 tage itself was clad in woodbine — about half 
 an acre of cleared ground, stocked with 
 vegetables, and adorned with flowers, sur- 
 rounded it. Rising from behind the garden, 
 and above the road, the steep bank, sprouted 
 everywhere with golden primroses, inter- 
 spersed with patches of blue wild hyacinth — all 
 
 l2
 
 148 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 putting on their brightest looks in honour of 
 the warm young year. 
 
 The day was one that no spring but Eng- 
 land's ever witnesses. Light clouds floated 
 through the sky, sprinkling the earth with 
 moistui'e, thus nui'sing, with sustenance and 
 shade, the tender firstlings of the season. The 
 feathered chorus tuned, with instinctive praise, 
 its joyous melodies to heaven. The venturous 
 rooks sailed forth, obedient to their young one^s 
 wants, and laughing jackdaws flocked, in merry 
 mockery, high in the clear bright air. 
 
 With spade in hand, resting from his health- 
 ful task, there stood, within the garden, a 
 labourer of middle age. The hard toil of 
 husbandry had failed, as yet, to bend or cramp 
 his manly form. When he paused to brush 
 the wages of bread from his open brow you 
 might see that his features were not wanting 
 intelligence. 
 
 He looked up to see how much rain was 
 threatened by the drops that sparkled in the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 149 
 
 sunshine. Then, as if that upward glance 
 had raised his thoughts from the work at his 
 feet, he smiled sadly and fell thus a-thinking. 
 ^^ England, thou art exceeding fair ! such 
 spots as these within a land of liberty seem 
 the very cradles of peace, the very fountains 
 of contentment. I hear tell of no other scenes 
 where repose is decked with cheerfulness as 
 in these little nooks. Methinks when Nature 
 plays at hide-and-seek with the noisy world she 
 comes to lurk in such recesses. Somehow 
 every branch and grey -faced stone, much more 
 the live frequenters, like yon skittish little 
 squirrels, grow to be as constant friends in 
 their faithfid daily presence. Long converse 
 embues the mind with a nature congenial to 
 the place's own ; and were I transported to 
 the world's far ends, this familiar dale would 
 keep me company to the utmost. The soldier 
 bearing the burden of his country's glory, and 
 of the savage hardships of a war, often doomed 
 to die where he has bled, and mix his dust
 
 150 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 with that of murdering foes, no dream un- 
 wakened by the roar of death's relentless car, 
 no vision of rest, undarkened by the morrow's 
 pending fate, must often cheer his heart's 
 misgiving by the remembered picture of a 
 home like this. And he who in his boyhood 
 knew these stocks and stones, these chirping 
 birds, these playing squirrels, these primrose 
 banks, and aged trees, as well as I, does he 
 not often recall the spot of innocence, of 
 home ? Yes ! there are to whom such scenes 
 give joy ; but alas ! there must ever be some 
 to whom such scenes give pain. How thank- 
 ful should we then be who are blessed with 
 what others pine for. They can but fancy the 
 sweets which we enjoy. And if these woods and 
 banks will not clothe or feed our children, 
 this good soil fails not to render fruit to the 
 strength which heaven grants me to break it." 
 Here the labourer resumed his spade, and, 
 smiling hopefully, turned up the ground with 
 freshened vigour. Thus sped it without.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 151 
 
 Inside the cottage, near the chimney corner, 
 wherein blazed a wood fire, surprisingly large 
 for the warmness of the weather, sat, or rather 
 crouched, an old crone, rocking herself on a 
 low stool, and resting now and again to poke 
 the fagot's end into the flames, which scarcely 
 kept her shrivelled body warm. The fumes 
 of a long pipe, whose stem she sucked between 
 her toothless gums, occasionally found its way 
 into her weazy lungs. The exhalations brought 
 on a choking cough, from which the old hag 
 with difficulty recovered ere she set-to cursing 
 the cause that nearly suffiDcated her. When- 
 ever the pipe was laid aside, her tongue ran 
 maundering on with disjointed sentences, and 
 words — half-uttered words, occasionally com- 
 plaints of age, of infirmity, of those about her, 
 approached to something like coherency ; but 
 these again were interrupted occasionally with 
 fragments of scriptural passages, the adaptation 
 of which could with difficulty be discovered. 
 In the same room with her, a delicate looking
 
 152 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 woman, with a child in her arms, phed about, 
 busy in acts of domestic care. At her side, 
 holding by his mother's apron, when her hands 
 were full, was a fine curly-headed little fellow, 
 of four or five years old. Whatever the mother 
 did the child trotted by her with a comic 
 gravity in its chubby face, attentive to every 
 thing ; but seemingly resigned, as if every 
 thing fell out in due and natural course. Mrs. 
 Sandford's present occupation was that of 
 preparing her homely table for the mid-day 
 meal. Her progress was watched by the 
 impatient eyes of the old crone. 
 
 ^^ Art nigh fit, Jane?" asked the beldame, 
 of her daughter-in-law, when the latter came 
 to raise the cauldron-lid, to try the steaming 
 potatoes. " Surely them taters is done if 
 ever they means to." 
 
 "They 'ont be many minutes first, mother." 
 
 " Ah ! the Lord help us ! it's allust waiting 
 
 now, the old 'oman has to wait on all your 
 
 pleasures — she has. But He defendeth the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 153 
 
 cause of the widows — mumble, mumble — and 
 His wrath shall consume 'em like a fire." 
 
 Mrs. Sandford took no notice of these 
 exclamations, she continued her work, too 
 used to the other's testy manner to make 
 reply, though the old woman well knew that 
 her irritating speeches wore away the spirit 
 of her daughter-in-law as trickling drops in 
 time wear stones. 
 
 ^^ Why don't 'e give the child to me, Jane? 
 You can't set dinner out, and nurse un' 
 too." 
 
 " Oh, yes I can, mother ; never mind the 
 child." 
 
 " Mind un' ! No ! Old Molly don't mind 
 the child — hah ! hah ! I hate them as imagine 
 evil things — mumble, mumble. Lord they 
 shall burn like fire for ever. It is a queer job, 
 though, the child warn't kil't, a' them holes, 
 that it is." 
 
 " It would have been killed, mother, if Miss 
 Meriel had not saved it — God bless her ! "
 
 154 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^' Ay, ay ! she had need to save it she had. 
 One o' her family have been worse 'an death 
 to one of mine ; but the rich folkes has their 
 day, and the poor uns has their's. What I 
 knows I knows — chuck ! chuck ! " 
 
 " What is it you know, mother ? " asked 
 Mark Sandford, with a smile on his face, as 
 he entered from the garden. 
 
 ^' As much bad as good ony day," said the 
 old woman, shaking her head at her son, as 
 he took down his coat from behind the door. 
 
 "Why, that's bad hearing," said Mark; 
 "but do you know the best use to make of 
 such knowledge, mother, eh ? " 
 
 " Let me alone for that, boy." 
 
 " The best use to make of it is to remem- 
 ber the good, and forget the bad." 
 
 "Forget the bad, boy? I tell 'e when I 
 remember Jack I remembers the good, and 
 when I thinks of Sigismonds and Harrods, I 
 remember the bad." 
 
 " Mother, let bygones be bygones. We have
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 155 
 
 plenty to be forgiven of. Let us forgive others. 
 Mr. Sigismond has done his best for us, I'm 
 sure. As to his daughter, bless her heart, she 
 has saved my cliild's life — that alone makes 
 up for Jack's fate. Brother Jack, too, might 
 have died if he had stopped at home, for all 
 we know. You forget, mother, how kind they 
 are to us. Why, we shouldn't have this roof 
 over our heads, if it wasn't for Mr. Sigismond." 
 
 ''■ I tell 'e, boy, them as injiu'es mine, mine 
 '1 injure them. Talk of roofs, and sich like. 
 Why don't Master Sigismond give 'e work ? 
 There's many man and boy o' the farm has 
 less right to his employ 'an son of mine, I can 
 tell him." 
 
 *^ You speak too hastily, mother ; Mr. Sigis- 
 mond has no call to employ me. He got me 
 one good place, and I lost it. He says he'll get 
 me another, if he can ; meanwhile he lets Jane 
 and me live here in this snug little cottage 
 along with you. I'm sure we ought not to 
 be ungrateful."
 
 156 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^^ Ungi^ateful ! " half- screamed the hag. 
 " Didn't he transport my son ? and don't he 
 think to pay us for't in this way ? " 
 
 ^^ If Mr. Sigismond had a hand in Jack's 
 transportation," returned Mark, " he certainly 
 has been very kind to the rest of us. There's 
 Isaac provided for, and as comfortable as need 
 be at the Priory; besides, if we were twice as 
 bad off, 'twouldn't mend matters, complain- 
 ing ; and you know, mother, it filets Jane so 
 to think you aren't pleased while we are with 
 you. You wouldn't have her think that, 
 would you?" 
 
 " It frets Jane, do it ? eh ! I thought as 
 how it fretted Jane." The old hag's eyes glis- 
 tened at the thought. " I guessed old MoUy 
 made 'e all uncomfortable. Yes ! I guessed 
 that, eah! The Lord help us. Blessed are 
 the poor — mumble, mumble. They shall soon 
 be cut down like grass, they shall." 
 
 While the meal was yet upon the table, the 
 latch was raised, and there entered Lady Fitz-
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 157 
 
 John and Miss Sigismond. The cottagers rose 
 respectfully to receive the gentle visitors ; 
 and Mrs. Sandford hastened to remove the 
 plates and dishes to the cupboard. Meriel 
 took advantage of the busy moment to pos- 
 sess herself of Mrs. Sandford's baby, and grati- 
 fied her instinctive passion for children, by 
 dancing up and down the vivacious little 
 animal whose existence she had been instru- 
 mental in prolonging. The danger she her- 
 self had undergone created almost a maternal 
 fondness for the infant, while the baby in turn 
 giggled and hicccoughed with more glee at 
 her animated and joyous face than ever it did 
 at the melancholy care of its own mother. 
 The father of this child had already been up 
 to the Priory to tender his best thanks to 
 Miss Sigismond. All these assurances of 
 gratitude, with a great many new ones, he 
 repeated and dwelt upon, much longer, as 
 may readily be supposed, than was agreeable 
 to the young lady's recollection. Whether the
 
 158 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 witch-like acuteness of old Molly's penetration 
 detected Meriel's uneasiness we know not ; 
 but she showed a determination not to let the 
 matter drop, however ingenious Meriel was in 
 attempting to pass it over. 
 
 ^^You know, Miss," said the crone, "they 
 do say these caves are haunted. Ye didn't 
 never meet nothing there, did ye ? " 
 
 " Haunted, Molly ! why, I thought you had 
 too good sense to believe in tales that are 
 only fit to amuse children." 
 
 " There's no saying. Miss, whether there be 
 or there ben't ghosts. Ye've heerd, I daresay, 
 of the witch of Endor, han't ye ? Well ! she 
 raised a ghost that a'most scared both King 
 Saul and herself to death. For my part I 
 thinks 'twas a good bit o' luck the Prior's own 
 sperit didn't seize ye down i' them foulsome 
 holes." 
 
 Miss Sigismond tried to laugh at her tor- 
 mentor. "Every dark hole," said she, "is 
 supposed to contain a ghost. You never
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 159 
 
 met anything there yourself, Molly, did 
 you? 
 
 '' I've heerd some terrible rumblings afore 
 now, and has a terrible dread o' the place 
 myself." 
 
 '^ Your ears must be better than I fancied 
 them, mother," said Mark ; ^^ you must have 
 heard the mice at play." 
 
 " Mice is it ? two-legged uns then. Na, na ! 
 I tell 'e the Prior's ghost haunts the ruins, 
 and haunt 'em he will till the curse is out, 
 and his sperit rests agin. Ye'U have heard 
 how the Prior come to curse his descendants, 
 ha'n't ye. Lady ? " said Molly, turning to Lady 
 Fitzjohn." 
 
 Lady Fitzjohn had naturally heard much 
 about the curse in her time. But it was a 
 subject which Mr. Sigismond carefully avoided, 
 therefore she never had heard enough to 
 satisfy her curiosity, or if you prefer so to call 
 it, her interest in the destiny of her con- 
 nexions. We are all gifted, more or less,
 
 160 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 with a love of the marvellous , and the simple 
 little widow, who could at any time listen to a 
 tale with the attention of a child, at once 
 looked to see if MerieFs interference would 
 prevent the pleasure she promised herself, 
 if Molly could but be induced to tell the story. 
 Now, the truth is, Molly wanted no encourage- 
 ment whatever ; she was admitted by every 
 one to be not only the best narrator of the 
 legend; but it was even said that no other 
 person but she possessed a true and complete 
 acquaintance with the particulars of the his- 
 tory. Molly enjoyed this reputation, and 
 took every opportunity to cultivate it ; her 
 special form of mind, too, leaned both to 
 mystery, and to a certain disposition to make 
 herself an object of fear. Without waiting, 
 therefore, for a reply to her question she said, 
 ^' Kase if ye ha'n't heard it, an' ye'll listen to 
 me, I'll jist tell ye how it was.'' 
 
 Meriel murmured something about coming 
 another time to hear the story. And Mark
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 161 
 
 did his best to prevent his mother repeating 
 what he saw would be disagreeable to Miss 
 Sigismond. But the pertinacity of the old 
 hag, together with the childish curiosity of 
 Lady Fitzjohn, decided the question. And 
 even Meriel soon found herself listening to 
 an account of her ancestors, which, until this 
 day, she had never heard so fully related. 
 
 In order that the old crone's narrative may 
 be better understood we shall give it in our own 
 words. We shall also take the liberty to refresh 
 the reader's memory of the date referred to 
 by a cursory glance at the dark pages of 
 history which record the early annals of the 
 Eeforaaation. 
 
 It will be remembered that soon after 
 Henry VIII. had defied the terrors of the 
 papal bull, and was acknowledged by the 
 nation at large as the '^ Supremum Caput " of 
 ecclesiastical jurisdiction, his first act was to 
 vest in the minister, who had probably sug- 
 gested his apostacy, the plenitude of vicarial 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 power. Cromwell was delegated as the royal 
 vicegerent, whose office it was to exercise the 
 full authority which belonged to the king as 
 head of the Church, and to conduct the 
 ^^ godly reformation" of heresies, abuses, and 
 errors. The assumption of the supremacy at 
 once placed the command of all property 
 belonging to the clerical and monastic bodies 
 at the mercy of the Crown. This, of course, 
 had been one of the main objects of Henry's 
 policy ; and Cromwell, knowing his master's 
 rapacity, unscrupulously proposed, with the 
 countenance of Cranmer, and the support of 
 the lords of the Council, to dissolve the 
 monasteries, under the hypocritical plea of a 
 religious zeal. The scandalous proposition 
 was eagerly acceded to by the king. Com- 
 missioners were appointed from amongst Crom- 
 well's dependants. The instructions they 
 received were cloaked under the most specious 
 form ; and the visitations were undertaken as 
 if the improvement of the monastic institute
 
 A WILL AND A AVAY. 163 
 
 had been designed, instead of its destruction. 
 But to these orders were added other secret 
 ones to induce the brotherhood to surrender 
 their possessions to their self-elected head. 
 The larger houses for some time resisted 
 these iniquitous measures ; for then* abbots and 
 priors, as lords of Parhament, were able to de- 
 fend the charges to which their establishments 
 were exposed. A bill, however, was passed 
 for the suppression of the smaller monasteries ; 
 and the buildings and lands belonging to them 
 were sold, to the exclusive profit of the Crown, 
 or else granted, by letters patent, to the 
 parasites of the Court. 
 
 This brings us to old Molly's story. At the 
 time of the Holy Wars, one Sir Henry de 
 Sigismond, Knight of Nordefall, had, after the 
 example of many other crusaders, made over 
 the bulk of his worldly goods to the religious 
 brotherhood, whose domahis already abutted on 
 his own. The knight did not leave his bones, 
 as he had expected, in the East; but after 
 
 M 2
 
 164 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 a long absence returned, disburdened of the 
 holy zeal which glowed so warmly at his de- 
 parture, and thinking only how he could recover 
 the estates which he had consigned condition- 
 ally in payment for masses for his soul. A 
 few hundred acres of the original property had 
 been reserved by Sir Henry as a heritage for 
 his son. Upon these he lived, and spent the 
 remainder of his days in incessant hostility 
 with the prior and monks of Nordefall for the 
 recovery of his forfeited estate. In vain it 
 was that the knight, in those days, appealed 
 to the Crown — neither king, law, nor com- 
 mons would interfere in his behalf; and all 
 he could do was to annoy, by every conceiv- 
 able contrivance, the neighbours whom he 
 had before treated with such munificence. 
 Family feuds often become venerable heir- 
 looms. Generation after generation the Sigis- 
 monds cherished, their jealousy of the opulent 
 priors of Nordefall, hoping always that some 
 accident of superior talent on their side, and
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 165 
 
 a coinciding inferiority on the other, would 
 give them the advantage they had so long 
 unsuccessfnlly contended for. 
 
 The expected day at last arrived ; a Sigis- 
 mond was born whose lot it was to terminate 
 the lengthy feud. He married young; his wife 
 died, leaving him one child, a son. The boy 
 was reared a page in the house of a noble family. 
 Years of absence estranged the father's heart ; 
 report in time pronounced him childless. To 
 this he was indifferent ; ambition had long 
 since usurped the place of natural affection. 
 All the energy of his being was concentred 
 to one end, the recovery of the Sigismond 
 estates. He effected this — but how ? First, 
 he took the greatest pains to lull the animosity 
 of the monastery by pious acts, by devout de- 
 meanor ; his next care was to propitiate their 
 indulgence by constant offerings to the prior, 
 by occasional ones to the Vh'gin. Then came 
 protestations of contrition for ancestral guilt ; 
 and, last, the arrow was despatched for the
 
 166 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 retrieval of its long lost mate — the remainder 
 of the Sigismond property was given to the 
 monks of Nordefall, and Sigismond himself 
 assumed the cowl. It was a crafty scheme, 
 and apparently the scheme of a patient long- 
 sighted man. 
 
 Time wore on, Sigismond, father Gilbert 
 now, rose from simple brother to sacristan, 
 from sacristan to sub-prior, from sub-prior — 
 yes ! when grey locks were scant upon his 
 head, and a weight of cares bowed down his 
 neck, when life was ebbing, and family feuds 
 were little worth as family acres — father 
 Gilbert rose from sub-prior to prior. Norde- 
 fall was completely his ; but he was com- 
 pletely — whose ? 
 
 These were the days of the Reformation. 
 King Henry had resolved to suppress all 
 monasteries — Nordefall amongst the number. 
 Poor short-sighted prior ! what would he 
 have given now for the independent pos- 
 session of his old few hundred acres ? Yain
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 167 
 
 the regret ! Down came the Crown com- 
 missioners to prove the monastery corrupt. 
 No charge could be laid or proved against it. 
 The commissioners lost patience, they offered 
 bribes abundantly to the prior. He, good 
 man, was incorruptible ! and this provoked 
 them more than ever. Gentle means being of 
 no avail, the commissioners threatened to 
 starve — to burn the prior — for refusing to 
 acknowledge the king's supremacy. No ! he 
 would not heed them ; neither bribes, menaces 
 nor entreaties could move this patient incor- 
 ruptible old man. Away went the commis- 
 sioners, filled with wrath, to report this 
 obstinacy to their master, Cromwell. A short 
 respite from his persecutions allowed the prior 
 to breathe a hope that the storm might blow 
 over, that Nordefall might yet be with him 
 to his end, that the sole object of his existence 
 might not miscarry. But another Sigismond 
 was alive. Never was the family name borne 
 by better champion of the family feud ; with
 
 168 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 spirit, like unto his father's, from boy to man- 
 hood he had cherished the ambition of his 
 race. He knew his father had turned monk ; 
 he knew the Sigismond estate was therefore 
 forfeit to the monastry. But twenty years 
 and more had flown since any tiding had 
 reached him of his aged parent. Interest and 
 unresting efforts had helped him to the favour 
 of the favourite. He watched the progress of 
 the Reformation, and kept even pace with the 
 powers that were. He watched the progress 
 of the Eeformation, and fixed his eyes upon 
 the monastery of Nordefall. When, therefore, 
 the angry commissioners made mention of 
 refractory monks, superadding thereto mali- 
 cious charges, Cromwell's indignation found 
 relief in Sigismond' s cruel offer. 
 
 " Permit me, my lord," said the courtier, 
 " to deal with this rebellious priest ; I warrant 
 me I'll teach him to respect the royal will." 
 
 '^ Go," said Cromwell, " and Nordefall shall 
 find a worthier master in a lieger subject."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 169 
 
 Down posted the king's officer to take pos- 
 session in the king's name. The monastery- 
 was locked and barred ; but Sigismond the 
 younger had troopers with him, sturdy ruffians 
 armed with arquebuss and halbert. Force was 
 used, gates flew open, away fled the monks. 
 All tried to flee, except the aged prior. It 
 was a terrible scene, this sacking of the Norde- 
 fall monastery. Night had been chosen to 
 hide its terrors. Inoffensive brethren poured 
 out their innocent blood beneath the weapons 
 of the drunken troopers. Holy shrines were 
 plundered ; altars desecrated ; images torn 
 down, and trodden under foot. The cellars 
 flowed with wine and ale ; such ale, as vener- 
 able as potent ; here swilled the brutal swine. 
 Some were drowned, and all were burnt. 
 Yes, burnt ! the oily spirit, the strong old 
 ale, licked up the torches' flames, and high 
 they crackled till oaken rafters went heaven- 
 ward in a cloud of smoke. 
 
 The prior knelt in his separate house beside a
 
 170 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 huge old cross. He thought of serious matters, 
 and doubtless of his family feud. This thought, 
 the very same, spurred on his son ; maddened 
 with blood and wine, the hatred of all his 
 ancestry were concentrated in Sigismond's fero- 
 cious glare upon the Nordefall prior. Father 
 knew not son, son knew not father. So, one 
 cleaving blow, and the murderer was a par- 
 ricide. 
 
 *^ It served them both right," continued 
 Molly Sandford, ^Hhe old man earned his end, 
 and his ghost shrieked and moaned i' them 
 vaults till more 'an one of his name went crazy 
 for to hear him. What I knows I knows, and 
 hark 'e to this, until the prior's dying curse 
 come true, them vaults will be, in some way 
 or other, a harrass and a worry to the 
 Sigismonds." 
 
 " You haven't told us what the curse was, 
 Molly," said Lady Fitzjohn. 
 
 ^' The curse ! she knows it," cried the crone, 
 pointing to Meriel, ^^Miss Meriel knows it.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 171 
 
 don't 'e Miss?" — miimble, mumble. ^* He 
 maketh the barren woman to be a joyful 
 mother of children," — mumble — ^^ and there 
 shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. The 
 curse ! ay, ay ! curses always stick to people, 
 they do. * I curse thee for a heretic and a 
 murderer,' says the prior to his son ; ' and if 
 thou art come to rob this monastery of its 
 lands, I curse thee as their future owner. 
 Thou shalt beget children, but they shall die 
 untimely deaths. One only shall survive to 
 bear my dying curse. The ill that betides 
 thee betides the race that follows thee, and 
 never shall the curse depart until — " 
 
 Meriel was all curiosity for the conclusion 
 of Molly's sentence. She wanted to hear if, 
 according to tlie best authority, the version of 
 the prior's denunciation was precisely the 
 same with that she had before heard. But 
 at the moment the old woman was about to 
 repeat the conditions which should release the 
 prior's descendants fi'om the bane of his
 
 172 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 malediction, the light of the room became sud- 
 denly obscured. Some person had stepped 
 to the window, had just peered into the cot- 
 tage, and had as suddenly gone away. Xo 
 one but Molly would have given a second 
 thought to the event — she paused. 
 
 "Did ye see him. Miss?" she asked 
 Meriel, in a singular tone of voice. 
 
 "No! whom?" inquu^ed Miss Sigismond, 
 somewhat taken aback by the crone's mysteri- 
 ous manner. 
 
 "One," answered Molly Sandford, "by 
 whom I'd like to see the curse's terms fulfilled. 
 Mayhap he'll be that one." 
 
 " Whom, in heaven's name, can you mean ?" 
 
 " Harrod," said the beldame. 
 
 " My best of friends ! " exclaimed Meriel, 
 her face losing its anxious expression as she 
 spoke. ^ 
 
 " There'll come a time, mayhap, when he'll 
 be more. There'll never come a time when 
 he'll be less. An' ye'd win your heart's
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 173 
 
 desire," she added in Meriel's ear, '^ beware of 
 them who'd sell their very souls to balk ye. 
 Tarry not— go see to't." 
 
 Half inclined to jeer at the old woman's 
 warnings, which she looked upon as the mere 
 outpouring of a crooked disposition, yet, — 
 startled at the words which had been addressed 
 only to herself. Miss Sigismond said to her 
 friend, ^^Well Goody, if it was Mr. Harrod, he 
 must be going up to the Priory to pay his 
 respects to us, so I think the least we can do 
 is to welcome him." 
 
 Lady Fitzjohn looked wistfully towards 
 Molly, hoping to be delayed until the old 
 woman, of her own accord, should resume, 
 and finish her narration. But j\Iark's mother 
 had seated herself under the chimney, and was 
 already lighting her after-dinner pipe ; any 
 hope, therefore, of her speaking further, unless 
 it was to grumble at her daughter-in-law, or 
 occasionally to mutter some scriptural quota- 
 tion, could only ha\'e been conceived by a
 
 174 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 person quite ignorant of this singular creature's 
 character and habits. Meriel's friend knew 
 Molly Sandford of old, so, taking leave of 
 the family, she followed Miss Sigismond, and 
 the two followed in the footsteps of Mr. 
 Harrod.
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mr. Harrod sauntered moodily up the 
 winding-road ; neither the tuneful grove, nor 
 the primrose banks, nor the warm spring day 
 had a single charm for him. His thoughts, 
 indeed, were seldom distracted by the presence 
 of inanimate objects ; these were not so now. 
 He had looked into the lodge windows to see 
 if, by accident. Miss Sigismond was there ; he 
 saw she was there, and had passed on satisfied 
 in the discovery, satisfied also that the dis- 
 coverer had not been observed. When he 
 came under the shade of the beeches he 
 pushed his hat from off his brow, folded his 
 hands behind his back, and walked leisurely 
 on with the air of one absorbed in meditation.
 
 176 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Whatever were his qualities of mind or temper 
 — we will speak of these presently — one thing 
 was clear in Mr. Harrod's case, he had had 
 very considerable experience, and possessed, 
 in fine, a very considerable knowledge of the 
 world. He fancied that his acquaintance with 
 human nature was infallible. He fancied he 
 was familiar with every avenue by which the 
 hearts of men and women are approached. 
 He fancied that no actions were without 
 motives, and that the great moving principle 
 of all was selfishness. The mistake he made 
 was a very common one ; he judged others 
 by himself. He knew his own character 
 thoroughly, and for it entertained unmitigated 
 contempt. He discovered baseness lurking 
 beneath every impulse ; he found, in his in- 
 dividual case. Self, secretly at work under 
 every inclination. Let it wear never so nice 
 a semblance to virtue and morality, still, in 
 truth, the motive was but masked, still at 
 core the motive was a bad one.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 177 
 
 ^' Goodness," he would say, ^^ is an illusion 
 which, if people knew themselves, they would 
 cease to believe in. They who prate of honesty 
 must be either fools or hypocrites." 
 
 Now, there cannot well be imagined any 
 creed more fatal to the practice of virtue than 
 one which ignores the principle of virtue 
 in toto. The consequence was, in Mr. Har- 
 rod's case, he never even feigned virtue but 
 for a special aim ; never assumed it but out 
 of deference to other people's prejudices. The 
 degree of morality which he practised, there- 
 fore, was always most happily adapted to the 
 demand of the occasion. And since his head 
 was not less cool than his heart, he was sel- 
 dom hurried, by impulse, into acts unapproved 
 by his mature deliberation. 
 
 In addition to his knowledge of the world 
 he possessed an unusual share of literary at- 
 tainment. He had lived a good deal in the 
 society of clever people ; had a retentive 
 memory, and knew how to amuse by anecdote, 
 
 VOL. L N
 
 178 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 or to instruct by imparting information. His 
 energy and clearness of sight qualified him 
 for a man of business. His discretion — he 
 cared, in fact, too little about other people 
 to meddle with their affairs, unless they con- 
 cerned himself — obtained for him the confi- 
 dence of many who hoped to profit by his 
 shrewdness; and where the secrets of the weak 
 could serve a purpose of his own, this natural 
 closeness had but to borrow the garb of 
 sympathy, and soon he used, as his tools, 
 those who credulously relied on him for 
 support. 
 
 In appearance Mr. Harrod was not pre- 
 possessing — nor exactly the reverse. When 
 younger, women had admired his eyes. The 
 drooping lids gave them a sleepy look, but it was 
 the drowsiness of the serpent lying in torpor. 
 He had a nose of the ultra-Roman type — 
 sharp, long, large, and tinted. His mouth, 
 naturally bad, was little improved by the 
 projection of a single fi:-ont tooth, the only one
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 179 
 
 remaining in that part of the jaw. But be- 
 sides the accidental disfigiu'ement, this feature 
 had a habit of twitching which its master 
 could not control, although he assumed a 
 severe expression of gravity for the purpose. 
 His address did poor credit to his long usage 
 of society. When he took no pains to please, 
 his want of courtesy was even repulsive ; and 
 since he very seldom felt with kindness, his 
 efforts to pretend cordiality were palpably 
 harsh, or else rudely familiar. To hide these 
 defects entu'ely was beyond his power; but 
 he skilfully concealed fi'om the uuAvary the 
 sources whence they sprung, by lending to his 
 abiniptness the tone of blunt integrity. 
 
 Such, in our opinion, was he against whom 
 Molly Sandford had cautioned Miss Sigismond. 
 Now, though Meriel's quickness and penetra- 
 tion were of no common order, what chance 
 had a girl of eighteen or nineteen of decipher- 
 ing such a character as Mr. Harrod's. She 
 happened to be one of the few whom he made 
 
 n2
 
 180 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 it his business to please. Did she, like him, 
 look for a motive in every act ? No ! for 
 there never was a truer believer in generous 
 impulses ; never one less suspicious of deceit 
 than herself With all her intelligence, there- 
 fore, she no more knew the colour of Mr. Har- 
 rod's heart than she could have defined its 
 complexion by looking down his throat. She 
 liked his curt manner, she thought it odd, 
 and playfully twitted him about it ; she re- 
 membered him all her life the same. True, 
 people hinted darkly about him ; but her spirit 
 of opposition — she had her woman's share of 
 this quality — only rose the higher in his 
 defence, whenever calumny took the field 
 against him ; and the more others abused him, 
 the closer she adhered to her friendship. 
 
 " In the woods, in thought and deed," said 
 the young lady, tapping Mr. Harrod slightly 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 *^ Ah ! you made me start," said he, looking 
 pale.
 
 A AVILL AND A WAY. 181 
 
 " Your thoughts must be lively to make 
 you jump so," retorted Meriel ; " but I declare 
 you look as if our presence was as unwel- 
 come as unexpected. Has your gallantry 
 taken flight with ycur self-possession? Here's 
 Goody with a blush all ready for you, and you 
 don't pay her a single compliment." 
 
 Mr. Harrod made some awkward apologies, 
 declaring he was only prevented by the agree- 
 ableness of the surprise from being readier 
 with his acknowledgements. 
 
 ^' It was most fortunate that they met," 
 he added, ^^ for he had walked over expressly 
 to call on Miss Sigismond." 
 
 " Then," said she, ^^ I will no longer com- 
 plain of your gallantry ; for you undertook a 
 great trouble for nothing at all." 
 
 " Is then the pleasure of meeting Miss Sigis- 
 mond so insignificant?" 
 
 " The idea has never occurred to me yet," 
 said Meriel, naively. ^' I meant that your 
 civility was only to be matched by that of our
 
 182 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 most formal acquaintances. You called at 
 Nordefall for the same reason that somebody 
 went down a coal-pit to say you had been 
 there." 
 
 ^^ My dear Meriel, what an accusation ! I 
 called to see you." 
 
 ^^ And, having seen me you were satisfied !" 
 ^^ Seen you! when, where, pray?" 
 " Now, you wicked bad man !" said Meriel, 
 laughing and shaking her pretty head at him ; 
 '^ didn't we catch you peeping at us through 
 the cottage window? Well, well! I see by 
 your guilty looks your conscience must be 
 punishing you, so I will forgive you this once. 
 I suppose, if the truth be told, you have some 
 business with papa, and don't want ladies in 
 the way. Egregious mistake ! We have much 
 better heads than you, really. Papa never 
 thinks of acting without consulting me ; but 
 men arrogate superiority, as if they actually 
 possessed it." 
 
 This little turn was given by Meriel, with
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 183 
 
 tliat rapidity of tact which never failed her, 
 to save Mr. Harrod's confusion. It gave him 
 time to laugh the matter off with a confession 
 which happened by chance to be an honest 
 one. 
 
 '^ Is your father at home?" he inquired. 
 
 '' No !" replied Meriel, " he is out. Look ! 
 he is coming through the shrubbery. Ah ! he 
 sees us. Why, he has mistaken you for some 
 strange visitor, and is scampering off to avoid 
 us. What a papa it is ! I must run on and 
 catch him, or he certainly will give us the slip 
 altogether." 
 
 The reader may easily remember some 
 expressions Mr. Sigismond let fall respecting 
 Mr. Harrod, when a meeting of the two at 
 Carol was spoken of. Those expressions were 
 perfectly sincere. Mr. Sigismond particularly 
 disliked his neighbour, nor was Meriel ignorant 
 of her parent's antipathies. Yet, she felt that 
 his prejudices were often no less transitory 
 than violent, and looked upon his aversion to
 
 184 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Mr. Harrod in the light of a whim, which she 
 had only to humour in order to overcome. She 
 half-suspected the truth in the present instance, 
 viz., that Mr. Sigismond had recognized Mr. 
 Harrod, and purposely escaped to avoid him. 
 She, however, thought this behaviour some- 
 what rude, and resolved to overtake the 
 whimsical old gentleman, and persuade him 
 to face his visitor ; but Mr. Sigismond was 
 just as determined not to face him, so went 
 away at best speed. Meriel pressed him 
 close, and called to him ; but her musical voice 
 rang through the wood only to guide him the 
 better to a safe retreat. A suitable place he 
 at last found ; it was a summer-house then 
 undergoing repair. Inside it were a quantity 
 of planks ready for the flooring ; behind these, 
 which stood against the walls, Mr. Sigismond 
 crept, to baffle pursuit. As might be expected, 
 the hunters did not leave this place alone 
 unsearched ; no one was to be seen, however; 
 so, breathless and hot, they sat down within
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 185 
 
 a few inches of their chace. Lady Fitzjohn 
 had separated from her companions ; Mr. Har- 
 rod and Miss Sigismond fancied themselves 
 alone. 
 
 " I shall scold papa well when I find him," 
 said the girl ; "he has no business to run 
 away when I call." 
 
 "I must come again another day," said 
 Mr. Harrod ; "I wanted to see how his 
 picture is getting on." 
 
 " He will be so glad to show it to you ; it 
 is wonderfully advanced since you were here ; 
 why, you haven't seen it for a month; you 
 neglect us entirely now, I shall begin to think 
 we have offended you if you don't come 
 oftener." 
 
 " True, but when Fabian comes home," (as 
 Mr. Harrod spoke, he carelessly raised his 
 drooping lids, and turned his torpid-snake 
 eyes full upon Miss Sigismond), "we must get 
 up some pic-nics, and have some fun ; the 
 weather will be warmer then."
 
 186 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Meriel's face was placid as tlie heavens 
 above her. She replied, '' Yes, we must." 
 
 " Poor boy ! it did one's heart good to get 
 such a nice letter from him. Belinda told you 
 all about it, I suppose ? " 
 
 " She told me you had heard from him. 
 Nothing else, I think, except that he and Mr. 
 Raven were on their way home." 
 
 " What odd creatures you girls are ! She 
 said then nothing of the spirits he was in at 
 the prospect of getting back ?" 
 
 ^^ Nothing." 
 
 "Ah!" said Mr. Harrod. "What a thing 
 it is to have so modest a creature for a bosom 
 confidante^ 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "Why! that she would not boast of the joy 
 her lover felt at the approach of their meet- 
 ing. You young ladies have more command 
 over your feelings than we men give you 
 credit for." 
 
 The pupils of Mr. Harrod's eyes dilated and
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 187 
 
 contracted like a parrot's when it meditates a 
 bite. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, " we must manage to 
 be very gay when Fabian gets back. They de- 
 serve that, I tliink, after their long separation, 
 don't they?" 
 
 ^* They do, indeed." 
 
 " Do you believe, Meriel, you could show a 
 constancy like Belinda's, if you had a lover 
 who left you for two years?" 
 
 '' Perhaps." 
 
 ^^ You are not quite sure, eh?" 
 
 " It would depend." 
 
 "On what?" 
 
 " On the lover, of course." 
 
 " Supposing, now, that Fabian was your 
 lover." 
 
 " I would be loath to do him that injustice ; 
 the supposition would wrong me too, as thus. 
 To suppose Fabian my lover, I must picture 
 Fabian as false to Belinda. To suppose after 
 this, myself constant to such a false lover
 
 188 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 would be countenancing inconstancy more 
 than an honest woman should do." 
 
 ^^ Excellent logic upon my reason ! such a 
 defence would almost imply an attack. One 
 would fancy I had asked you, in good earnest, 
 to accept Belinda's lover for your own." 
 
 " That one could not be me." 
 
 " There's the very point I aimed at ; for if 
 you could not accept Fabian as your lover, 
 and could not love him at all, for greater 
 reason you could not keep to him with 
 constancy." 
 
 ^^You would have me suppose myself in 
 love with one man, and very properly conclude 
 I cannot be constant to another." 
 
 '^Eh? I do not understand." 
 
 " 'Tis plain enough. Let it be gi^anted, say 
 you, that Meriel loves Belinda's lover — ergo — 
 she cannot be constant to Fabian Harrod." 
 
 " I see, I see ! you only object to suppose 
 Fabian your lover, because he is engaged else- 
 where."
 
 A AVILL AND A WAY. 189 
 
 " Oh ! commend me to a man that is 
 rationah ' Only/ did you say? It was only a 
 bit of fi'uit that Eve picked from the forbidden 
 tree. But to this ^ only ' was tacked on more 
 consequences than we know how to deal with." 
 
 " Were we all so conscientious — " what 
 might happen Mr. Harrod had not time to say, 
 for ere his sentence was completed, he was felled 
 to the ground, and buried beneath a heap of 
 planks. The scene was worthy of a comic stage. 
 Mr. Sigismond still kept the painful position 
 which had at last obliged him to make the 
 slight movement that had upset his screen. 
 He had got himself close against the wall by 
 standing on tip-toe. His arms and hands were 
 stretched down like a soldier's on duty. His 
 head was twisted on one side to compen- 
 sate his extended height, and the expres- 
 sion of his face was one in which bodily suffer- 
 ing blended with mental confusion and shame. 
 Of Mr. Harrod nothing coidd be seen but
 
 190 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 his head. At first the shock and the alarm 
 occasioned by it had turned him deadly pale. 
 Eage gradually succeeded to fear, and his 
 features glowed crimson, partly through pas- 
 sion, and partly through the exertions he made 
 to release himself. Fortunately Meriel had 
 received but a slight blow from the falling 
 planks ; she now stood on one side contemplat- 
 ing the picture, so entirely overcome by its 
 ludicrous efiects, that she could not offer the 
 least assistance, but laughed immoderately 
 till the tears ran down her cheeks. The awk- 
 wardness of the predicament was slightly re- 
 lieved by the difficulty of extricating Mr. 
 Harrod. This being accomplished, the task 
 of turning the tragic mirth, which the two 
 elders at first thought proper to put on, into 
 genuine merriment, fell upon Miss Sigismond ; 
 and since the two gentlemen who, for different 
 reasons, felt equally guilty, willingly, met her 
 endeavours, in a short time each began to
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 191 
 
 hope the other would remember the affair as 
 a joke, despite his own mward prayer that 
 he for one might never be an actor in so pain- 
 ful a farce again. When the party got within 
 the house, Mr. Harrod could talk of nothmg 
 but paintmg and the arts. And of so facile a 
 disposition was the person addressed — so 
 crafty on the other hand the speaker — that 
 Mr. Sigismond forgot, while talking of pictures 
 and poetry, who it was that led him on to 
 converse of them. The admiration Mr. Har- 
 rod expressed at sight of the artist's Cupids 
 would have sounded like fulsome flattery to 
 any ears but the painter's. Mr. Sigismond 
 drank it in, and thought no draught more 
 delicious ; nor did Mr. Harrod forget to disarm 
 suspicion with a judicious mixture of criti- 
 cism. 
 
 ^^ I should be almost inclined to leave it 
 where it is," said he, speaking of the painting. 
 " Sentiment may easily be destroyed by the 
 least appearance of labour."
 
 192 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 "Do you think so ?" asked Mr. Sigismond, 
 deferentially. 
 
 "I do indeed," returned Mr. Harrod, 
 earnestly ; " many of the finest works of 
 ancient art — in sculpture more particularly — 
 where you would pronounce accuracy of form 
 indispensable, are positively incorrect in re- 
 spect to outline. The spirit, the feeling of, a 
 production of this kind is paramount to the 
 mere truthfulness of its execution." 
 
 "You are right, quite right!" said Mr. 
 Sigismond. " Now, I wish you would just 
 point out more especially any defect in that 
 picture, which strikes you as a glaring fault." 
 
 "I could not do it," said the other, "the 
 workmanship is exquisite. One could walk 
 round those Cupids, the atmosphere is so fine ! 
 No ! my strictures refer to art generally. I 
 intended to convey that excessive refinement 
 should be avoided as carefully as common- 
 place. Not refinement of thought ; but that 
 species of refinement which, in execution,
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 193 
 
 gives an idea of ornamental display, such 
 refinement is cold, if not vulgar. Something 
 must, in all arts, be left to the imagination. 
 For even when a magic pencil, like yours, 
 limns the canvas, still its tracings must dis- 
 appoint the still more wonderful fancy which 
 directs it, and as your favourite poet says — 
 
 * Verius affectus animi, vigor exprimit ardens, 
 Soliciti nimium quam sedula cura laboris.' 
 
 It is not by too much labor that the artist 
 can hope 
 
 ' To seize the soul, and force her into sight.' " 
 
 By language of this kind Mr. Harrod in- 
 duced Mr. Sigismond to believe that not a 
 creature between Nordefall and the Koyal 
 Academy could appreciate his divine art so 
 well as he. 
 
 " I wonder," said the painter, " you don't 
 take the brush in your own hand ; with your 
 knowledge of art, manipulation might soon he 
 acquired.'^ 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 '^ My dear Mr. Sigismond ! colour is an 
 enigma to me, I'd give worlds to solve." 
 
 " If you believe me," said Mr. Sigismond, 
 with enthusiasm, " nothing is simpler. There 
 are but thixe primitive colours in nature. 
 Now, see here ; I will illustrate the fact. 
 There are but three — red, yeUow, and 
 blue — the positive always contrast with the 
 negative. Suppose, for example, we take 
 a — 
 
 And Mr. Harrod listened with seemingly 
 profound attention to a dissertation of which 
 he scarcely heard a syllable; for while Mr. 
 Sigismond spoke, Harrod was congratulating 
 himself on the success of his visit. 
 
 At parting, the painter would have escorted 
 his visitor to the lodge gate. They were, 
 however, prevented going quite so far to- 
 gether ; for hardly had they left the front 
 door when Mr. Sigismond, hearing his name 
 in the mouth of some noisy disputants, at 
 the back part of the house, he and Meriel
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 195 
 
 went round to learn what the wrangling was 
 about. 
 
 " I tell you," he overheard his footman Isaac 
 say, enforcing the assertion with no very 
 decent oath, " you've no business here, and 
 if you don't clear out pretty smart, I'll just 
 take and give you more 'an you can eat 
 Master Davy." 
 
 ^^ I don't want more 'an I can eat Mister 
 Isaac," returned the other, ^^ enough's as good 
 as a feast, 'specially when it concerns your im- 
 perence. But what the squire promised me 
 I 'ont start till I gets ; so let's have the horn 
 of ale and the plate of wittals, and say no 
 more about rt." 
 
 " Not a morsel shall you have out of this 
 house. No ! not if you was to die of hunger, 
 and I was to hang for starving of you." 
 
 " You'll hang without that. Mister Isaac, 
 mind me if you 'ont. But here be the 
 squire." 
 
 "What's all this about!" cried Mr. Sigis- 
 
 2
 
 196 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 mond, stepping between tlie brawlers with 
 an air of indignant authority. ^^ ^'hy 
 don't you give Davy his dinner, suTah, 
 eh?" 
 
 ^' He's always wanting his dinner, sir," 
 growled Isaac. 
 
 ^^ Always! I 'ain't but once a-day, and I 
 does my best not to want un then," returned 
 the other. " But what I says is, is your orders 
 to be obeyed or not, sir?" 
 
 ^^If ever," said Mr. Sigismond, uncon- 
 sciously piqued by Davy's diplomatic inuendo, 
 ^' if ever you behave m this way again, Isaac, 
 I'll discharge you on the spot." 
 
 '' Beg pardon, sir, but this fellow — " 
 
 ^^ Hold your tongue, sir ! How dare you 
 answer me ? Am I to be dictated to by my 
 own sei'vants ? But it's always the way, the 
 more indulgent a master is, the worse he is 
 served." 
 
 " Come papa, dear,'^ said Meriel, who saw 
 that Mr. Sigismond had worked himself into
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 197 
 
 a passion. "You have scolded enough this 
 time. Let us go." 
 
 But Mr. Sigismond's choler had not quite 
 subsided. AYhen, therefore, Isaac skulked 
 surlily away, muttering malicious intents respec- 
 ting Davy, the old gentleman turned to repre- 
 hend the other offender. Davy's nominal 
 caUing was that of mole-catcher to the master 
 of Nordefall, his actual occupation was gossip- 
 ' in-chief to the whole district. Be it remem- 
 bered, however, Davy's meddling propensities 
 were not positively mischievous. He, like 
 many other people, was a gossip from three 
 principal causes — he loved society, he had 
 nothing to do, and to meddle had become habi- 
 tual with him. He would at any time as soon 
 serve a friend as play a trick on an enemy. 
 The grounds of Mr. Sigismond's rebuke were 
 Davy's idleness and ubiquity; thus charged, 
 the mole-catcher appealed to Miss Meriel ; 
 declaring she could answer for him, there was 
 not a mole on the property.
 
 198 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 " What does Miss Meriel know of the 
 matter?" asked Mr. Sigismond, invokmtarily 
 softening at the mention of her name. 
 
 ^^ What does she know!" exclaimed Davy. 
 " Why, Miss Marry well walks over more 
 ground in a week than the Nordefall carrier 
 travels in six months ; and though she'll have 
 been over every hill and dale on the estate, 
 I warrant them pretty little feet ha'n't crushed 
 a mole heap this spring ; though, sure enough, 
 if I wasn't to worrit the varmints night and 
 day they'd turn the bowels of the earth inside 
 out, they would. But speaking of moles," 
 said he, ^^the creturs had like to had a fine 
 time of it just now. How so? Why, that 
 peppered menial of your honor's swore he'd do 
 for me. He'^j a proper bad lot is Isaac ! " and 
 Davy shook his head as if he knew more to 
 Isaac's disadvantge than he cared to speak 
 of. 
 
 "Come, Davy!" remonstrated Miss Sigis- 
 mond, " I daresay you were both to blame."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 199 
 
 '^ That don^t make he no better, though I 
 were twice as big a rogue as I be. Taint 
 that ; I can't abide him, miss. But I warns 
 you, he was ever one of the worst of the Sand- 
 fords; and since he've mounted them plush 
 expressibles, burn me if he aint serving the 
 devil in your livery.'' 
 
 Meriel not wishing to encourage this un- 
 charitable vein, reprovingly told Davy she 
 thought he had been better tempered; and 
 without waiting for his answer left the mole- 
 catcher to ruminate on her rebuff. 
 
 As soon as Mr. and Miss Sigismond were 
 gone, Davy looked wistfully at the kitchen 
 door. Lacking the courage to beard Isaac in 
 his own den, he caught up his spade, and bent 
 his steps in a contrary direction.
 
 200 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 That we may tell a man's character by the 
 company he keeps is but a shallow truth, — or 
 to borrow a better phrase from the wise Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds — it is but a ^' truth by 
 courtesy." When Fate assorts our lots, it 
 does not consult our inclinations. Indeed, 
 the obligation to " Hob and Nob " with beings 
 between whom and ourselves there exists the 
 widest incompatibility, and the still bitterer 
 struggle to bear separation from the choicest 
 of all our choosings, are such unpleasant and 
 unanswerable refritations of the aphorism, I 
 wonder courtesy is not choked by the lie. 
 Perhaps where a man's only, or chief com- 
 panions are those of his selection, the contest
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 201 
 
 may be worth a trifle — but who could have 
 deciphered Raven's character, for instance, 
 from the company he kept, albeit it were told 
 that this man's constantest associates were 
 books ? Books ! why small though his library 
 was, the gravest or most fanciful might have 
 found their match there. Yet, old world 
 sages, and simple Boeotians, Schivdrmern of 
 the cloud-painting school, and the Procrusteses 
 who stretch or mutilate all to the dimensions 
 of theh' own iron measure — were alike the 
 hourly companions of this reader. The house 
 he lived in might, perhaps, be more indicative. 
 It was a lonely house, and strangely situated. 
 No habitation stood within two miles of it. 
 Wyldeacre was its name, and a lake and a 
 morass surrounded the little hill whereon this 
 residence was perched. In olden times the 
 monks of Nordefall were supplied with fish 
 and fowl from these fenny regions, and here, 
 in this same solitude of Eaven's, the fowlers 
 used to dwell. The Derisleys owned the
 
 202 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 property now, and some little piece of land 
 reclaimed gave to the spot the title of a farm. 
 Now for a glance at the man himself ^^ at 
 home." It was about a week after Mr. Harrod 
 called at Nordefall that Raven returned to his 
 desolate abode. He had not long been back 
 when, in accordance with a proposal of 
 Fabian's, he sent an invitation to the Derislejs 
 and Sigismonds to come and spend the day 
 upon the lake at Wyldeacre. All had accepted 
 the invitation, the necessary preparations were 
 made, and on the evening preceding the 
 meeting, Eaven sat ruminating by himself in 
 his gloomy study. The room was dimly 
 lighted by a shaded lamp. In one corner, 
 upon a wooden cross, was perched a crested 
 eagle. Eaven paced to and fro, coming so 
 near the eagle, that each time the man 
 approached, the bird threw back its head, 
 and opened its wings as if in self-defence. 
 When the man's back was turned, the eagle 
 alternated his watch on him with a glance at
 
 Q 
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 20/ 
 
 the fire — thinldng, perhaps, how blood-shot 
 was the eye of heaven. ^^ To-morrow/' 
 mused Raven, ^^ my lease of Wyldeacre expires. 
 My second lease. For twice seven years this 
 house has been my home. These terms are 
 longish stages on the way to — change, change ! 
 Whether definite or indefinite, I wonder? 
 If complete, as from identity to mysticism, 
 what matters the pre-condition ? If pro- 
 gressive, then must it be to continue what is 
 here begun ! In twice seven years, something 
 of this onward course should be made out, I 
 think. What tale do these journals tell? — 
 unforgetting and unforgiving witnesses of the 
 past that they are ! Come, here's one that 
 exceeds the date. 'Tis nearly twenty years 
 since 'twas written. Hum, hum ! hope for 
 ever blasted — the world a blank — and I left 
 desolate — alone. An accident which befalls 
 most young gentlemen before they leave their 
 teens. What have we here? — If mercy be 
 an attribute of heaven, may all tlie actions of
 
 204 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 this brain be palsied — ^let madness save my 
 misery ! Still in the tragic vein ! Oh, 
 here's a page six years newer — what does this 
 say ? Is passion power ? How convert 
 passion into action? Is suffering an end or 
 a means ? What proportion of human ills 
 arise from the ganglionic centres? How 
 much happens of God's will — how much of 
 man's ? Do his miseries most declare the 
 sublimity of man's aspirations, or the baseness 
 of his nature? Where ends cerebration? 
 Where begins responsibility? Is truth one 
 to all? &c., &c. 
 
 39P ^ ^ tP 'fp 
 
 " Five pages of queries and not a single 
 answer ! Ah ! here we are at thirty. Thought, 
 reason, soul, mind ! To have these not is to 
 be — they say — a brute. To be wholly with 
 them — a spirit. To be part with, part without 
 — man. Well, the blessing and the curse 
 bear just proportion. For to be half spmt 
 is perhaps a blessing : to be half brute is
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 205 
 
 assuredly a curse. All mind — how would 
 that be? Let's think. Mind would be ab- 
 solved from need of carnal feeding. Good. 
 From need of rest. Hum — no rest ? To 
 keep the soul for ever on the rack of thought 
 were hell indeed ! But let us say all brute — 
 unsentient that is. The toad crawls with 
 equal pleasure in sewers or violet beds. 
 What toad ever said so ? And then with 
 pleasui^e not. Though fi-ee, perhaps, in all its 
 lots from pain. Then comes the question — 
 is pleasure not worth purchasing with a pang 
 or two ? Is light worth the cost of darkness, 
 or were chaos a better state ? But where is 
 light, where is pleasure, or can man be happy ? 
 * Not by what he has, but by what he is,' says 
 one. ' Not by what he is, but by what he is 
 to be,' says another. If both be right — as it 
 seems they should be — then both are wrong ; 
 for contradictions cannot agree. Some say, 
 ' Hope.' Be it so ; and hope becomes a sub- 
 stitute for happiness. That is, man becomes
 
 206 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 happy by deception. Suppose us freed of 
 this deception — ^no real happiness, no false 
 hope ! Hum ! Voi chi entrate, at the gates 
 of hell read, lasciate ogni speranza. A poet's 
 fancy could make no worse. Better then — 
 for it comes to this — the substitute for 
 happiness than no substitute, no happiness. 
 How, when we are passion drunk, we do 
 ^ speak parrot' and ^discourse fustian with our 
 shadows,' to be sure. After all, Fenelon is 
 right — Nous ne serous jamais si raisonahles 
 que quand nous cesserons cVetre si raisonnantsy 
 ^* Eagle!" said Raven, shutting the journals 
 and striding to the perch, ^Hhou art reasoning 
 now in spite of Fenelon and my folly ! What 
 deduction would' st thou come to, old bird ? a 
 pellet of raw beef? Yes ! we both have fasted 
 since early morning. Hunger is keen in both, 
 and, but for thy greater terror, I might be 
 thy meal ; while, wert thou a daintier fowl, 
 with no less relish I could break my fast on thee ! 
 Here are pellets for your maw ! Catch ! "
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 207 
 
 The eagle screamed, and, flapping its vast 
 wings to preserve its balance, caught the piece 
 of meat which Raven thi-ew to it. 
 
 ** For the matter of appetites," pursued the 
 man, ^^ there is not much to choose between 
 us, though, ceites, mine are fiercer and more 
 multiplied than thine : — withheld from food 
 thou would' st pine to a woful tameness, then 
 die without a murmur. — Treat man the same, 
 he'll rave terribly, then tear his living fellow 
 to bits, then bolt him horribly. As to other 
 varied forms of appetite, since here incarcer- 
 ated, all passions with thee merge in this one 
 — hunger; while mine — woe's me ! — are 
 monstrous as they're many." 
 
 Eaven sat down by the sinking fire, and in 
 half an hour's time his ethical mood had passed 
 away. When he got up again, the first thing 
 which attracted his attention was, the plate of 
 raw meat, the eagle's supper. He took it up 
 and held out a morsel of the food, which the 
 bird greedily snatched at.
 
 5? 
 
 208 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^^ Come, come," said the man, ^^ manners 
 friend Aquila ; don't be so greedy, you brute. 
 
 The next piece of flesh Eaven kept back — 
 that is, he first thrust it under the eagle's beak, 
 and then, when the bird pecked out, rapidly 
 withdrew it. Twice or thrice this happened in 
 succession ; until the eagle ceased, apparently, 
 to take notice of his master's tricks. Pre- 
 sently, Eaven also provoked, by the bird's 
 sulkiness, held the meat to its very nose. 
 Instantly, the eagle struck out — not at 
 the flesh — but at Eaven's hand. A combat 
 ensued. Spreading its powerful wings, the 
 royal bird beat them about Eaven's head, 
 fighting at the same time with its formidable 
 beak and talons. The unexpected onset, and 
 the streperous blows which stormed in Eaven's 
 face so bewildered him, that he found it im- 
 possible to ward them off*. At last, he threw 
 the eagle on its back, and there the battle 
 ended. 
 
 *>su 4b ^ jb 
 
 TT •?? TT W
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 209 
 
 On the following morning the weather was 
 not qnite so promising as could have been de- 
 sired for a day of out-door pleasure. It 
 seemed doubtful whether the heavy clouds 
 would turn to rain or wind. Wet, however, 
 held oif till noon, so that Eaven began to look 
 for the arrival of his friends. The first to 
 present himself was his late travelling compa- 
 nion, Fabian Harrod; a little later, Lady 
 Derisley and her daughter drove up, accom- 
 panied by Fabian's father and Belinda's bro- 
 ther, both on horseback. Greetings took 
 place after the ordinary fashion, every one of 
 the company making some surmise upon the 
 prospects of a dubious day. 
 
 " Weren't they good, to keep their engage- 
 ment?" Lady Derisley asked. 
 
 Her daughter rejected the proposition, de- 
 claring they only followed their own inclina- 
 tions in doing so. What she wanted to know 
 was, the chance of the Sigismonds coming, 
 foul or fair. Raven could not guess, but 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 thought they were bound to give the others 
 half an hour's gi'ace, after which, he proposed, 
 they should sit down to luncheon. Fabian sug- 
 gested that in the mean time their host should 
 entertain his guests by exliibiting some of the 
 many curiosities which he had collected in the 
 course of his various travels. Lady Derisley 
 seconded the request, so that Raven had no 
 choice but to comply. Miss Belinda was in 
 raptures with everything ; she had never seen 
 so many wonderful trophies, nor had pictured 
 to herself a more snug retreat than Mr. Raven's. 
 She no longer wondered that he preferred the 
 charms of solitude to the vortex of society. If 
 she had been a man this was the very spot she 
 should choose to live on. It quite realised 
 those beautifd lines of Tennyson : — 
 
 'Tis the place and all around it : as of old the curlews 
 
 call; 
 Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley 
 
 Hall. 
 
 *^At least," said Fabian, ^^the ^ di'eary 
 gleams ' are apposite."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 211 
 
 '' I wish Miss Derisley," said Eaven, "you 
 would explain to me the syntax of those 
 * dreary gleams.' Whether of old the curlews 
 call the gleams, or whether the ^flying' be- 
 longs to the gleams or to the curlews, or 
 whether the gleams and the curlews fly to- 
 gether over Locksley Hall, or whether they 
 fly ^ all around it ' first, and then fly over ? '^ 
 
 " Now, really, Mr. Eaven,'^ cried the young 
 lady, " you are too bad ! I thought you had 
 a soul for poetry — indeed I know you once 
 published some poems of your own ! " 
 
 " Which folly was atoned for at the cost of 
 their suppression before I was twenty years of 
 age." 
 
 " Oh ! I should so like to see a copy while 
 the others are looking at the curiosities. They 
 are not half so worthy of your compositions as 
 I." 
 
 " Is that meant in compliment to the verses 
 or the company ? " asked Fabian, turning 
 round. 
 
 p2
 
 212 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 '' You " returned Miss Belinda, darting an 
 indignant look at the speaker, " are the last 
 person I should either bestow a compliment 
 upon, or expect one from." 
 
 " Sweets to the sweet," said Fabian, going 
 back to a closet, full of foreign trophies. 
 
 " What's this skull ? " inquired Lady Der- 
 isley. 
 
 " A mere phrenological specimen," was the 
 answer. 
 
 '' You are a great believer in that science, 
 are you not, Mr. Eaven ? " 
 
 " In the science, but not in the application 
 of it." 
 
 ^^ Oh ! do tell me my character," said Be- 
 linda, hastening to take off her bonnet. 
 
 "You have a great many bumps," said 
 Kaven, seriously. 
 
 " Ah ! I knew I had ! But I am dying to 
 hear what they are." 
 
 Eaven performed certain preliminary ma- 
 nipulations, at the conclusion of which, " You
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 213 
 
 must not think I am flattering," said he. Miss 
 Derisley promised to believe him sincere. The 
 manipulator then pronounced a string of hard 
 words, most of wliich he coined for the 
 occasion. 
 
 " But how/' exclaimed Belinda, in dismay, 
 "am I to comprehend the meaning of these 
 extraordinary terms ? Do explain, I beg of 
 
 you!" 
 
 " Tis very well to say explain,'' replied 
 Raven. "You forget that phrenology is an 
 empirical science ; and that the difficulty of 
 comparing the perceptive with the reasoning, 
 the intellectual with the moral faculties, 
 balancing these again with individual tempera- 
 ments, and taking into consideration sentiments 
 and emotions as operated upon variously under 
 every varying phase of physiological configu- 
 ration, is almost insurmountable." 
 
 Miss Derisley declared herself to be dis- 
 satisfied with Mr. Raven's mode of evading her 
 request.
 
 214 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 "Belinda expects too much," said Lady 
 Derisley. " Will you try what you can make 
 of my head?" 
 
 Raven saw no way of entertaining his 
 guests better than that of complying with 
 their own wishes ; so, smiling in his sleeve at 
 the mixture of vanity and credulity, which is 
 always to be met with when a person imposes 
 on others by professing an unusual insight into 
 character^ he performed his part over again 
 very much as he had played it before. 
 
 "And pray, Mr. Eaven," exclaimed Lady 
 Derisley, when he had made an end, " what 
 is the meaning of ^ mulierositas/ which you 
 pronounce to be the prevailing feature of my 
 character ? " 
 
 " That," he replied, "is more than I can tell 
 you ; for were I to attempt an explanation, 
 this quality would appear to be made up of the 
 most incongruous opposites that are to be met 
 with in human nature. Yet, for all that, it 
 s (as in your case) the very nucleus and es-
 
 A WILL AND A AYAY. 215 
 
 sence of the characters of at least one-half the 
 human race. The word itself was invented l)y 
 Cicero." 
 
 "And philoseipsity ! " asked Lady Derisley ; 
 "what does that mean?" 
 
 "Oh!" said Eaven, "this is one of the 
 most valuable qualities Providence has supplied 
 to us. It is essential to success in this world, 
 and, carefully cultivated, will doubtless meet 
 with its reward in the next." 
 
 While the ladies were occupied in this man- 
 ner with their host, Allan Derisley, taking ad- 
 vantage of Eaven's good nature in permitting 
 his friends to ransack his closets indiscrimi- 
 nately, had pulled down a small box which, 
 being locked, greatly excited Mr. Derisley's 
 curiosity. The attention of the rest being 
 called to the same object, Eaven was intreated 
 to open this box, despite an evident objection 
 which he showed, but which no one seemed 
 disposed to consider. 
 
 " I know not," said he, " if the box can be
 
 216 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 opened. It is some time since it was moved, 
 and I perceive there is no key to it." 
 
 ^^Oh!" said Allan, ^^here is the key; it 
 fell out as I took the box down." 
 
 Raven accepted the key, and made a fumb- 
 ling effort to introduce it into the lock. " It 
 wont open ! " said he ; ^^and if it would I don't 
 believe there's anything in it but rubbish." 
 With this he put it aside, and, dropping the 
 key into his pocket, proposed they should 
 pay a visit to the eagle, now moved to 
 the outside of the house. But so much was 
 Belinda's curiosity heightened by Raven's 
 desire to lead them away, that she slipped back 
 to the study and began to try a bunch of her 
 own keys. An exclamation of pleasure burst 
 from her lips just as Raven returned to find 
 the box open in her hands. 
 
 ^^Miss Derisley !" he commanded, intones 
 that admitted of no disobedience, ^'I forbid you 
 to touch the contents of that casket ! " 
 
 Miss Derisley looked, as she really felt her-
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 217 
 
 self to be, in a very foolish predicament. Her 
 color changed, and it seemed doubtful, to 
 judge by her expression, whether she contem- 
 plated getting out of her difficulty by laughing 
 or by tears. This unenviable state was in no 
 wise mitigated by the feeling, that the eyes of 
 all witnessed her discomfort. There was no- 
 thing, however, either to be said or done ; so 
 she stood as she was detected, holding a trin- 
 ket in the air, and muttered mechanically, 
 ^' A locket!" Eaven took the jewel, and re- 
 closed the box. Before, however, replacing 
 it in the cupboard, he raised the lid to see if 
 its other contents were undisturbed. He 
 smiled when he found they were so, — but his 
 smile was followed by a cloud which again 
 passed from his face as rapidly as it came 
 there. He still held the trinket in his 
 hand. 
 
 "You may look at it if you please," 
 he said, giving it back to Miss Derisley. 
 Every one was surprised at his indifference.
 
 218 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 " What makes the gold brown and dirty ? " 
 inquired Lady Derisley. 
 
 " Blood ! said Raven." 
 
 " Blood ! " echoed all. 
 
 ** Yes " he answered, with a smile. " It 
 sounds tragical doesn't it? You'll see more 
 if you open it." Miss Derisley instantly 
 complied — ^the locket was in two partitions, 
 on one side was a stiffened lock of hair; 
 on the other a small slip of the thinnest 
 foreign letter paper folded up so as to fit the 
 cavity. Miss Derisley carefully extracted the 
 contents of this side and laid them open by 
 Raven's direction ; only the outer fold had 
 been stained and discolored, so that the fol- 
 lowing words, written very small, were still 
 legible; at Raven's own request the young lady 
 read them aloud: — ^^ Wherever you may be 
 my prayers will be with you. But we must 
 be patient. Yours, M." 
 
 *^What a tale of woe" said Belinda, "is 
 told in these few words."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 219 
 
 " I can tell you the whole in one minute '* 
 said Raven, ^^ if you are curious to hear it." 
 
 He was entreated to go on, which he did, as 
 follows. 
 
 ^^ I am no story-teller, indeed if I were, 
 unless I should invent materials, I have none 
 to swell the little incident -I am about to 
 relate into the importance of a tale. If there 
 be interest attached to the history of this 
 trinket, it does not in the least degree depend 
 on its narrator — for let any one repeat the 
 story as they will, this witness (holding up the 
 locket), as Miss Derisley says, must always 
 speak for itself — and the words you have just 
 read can never be umvritten. Fifteen years 
 ago I held a commission in the Spanish army. 
 In 1811 the allies besieged Barrosa. At that 
 battle I had command of a company of Spanish 
 infantry. You all know the particulars of 
 the attack, and remember how shamefully 
 the Spaniards deserted their gallant allies, 
 leaving them to fight single-handed against a
 
 220 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 French force three times as strong as the 
 British. It so happened, our general's aide- 
 de-camp being killed, that I, who was at his 
 side at the moment, was ordered to jump into 
 the vacant saddle and carry the orders which 
 the General was in the act of delivering. My 
 instructions wer^ to communicate with the 
 commanding officer of the British troops. In 
 the fulfilment of this duty I had to pass 
 through the advancing columns of the English. 
 — They were charging as I rode by them, 
 and mingled with their cheers I could every 
 now and then distinguish a shout of contempt 
 directed at me, or rather I should say at the 
 uniform I wore, and was myself ashamed of. 
 — Amidst these shouts and cheers, and above 
 the roar and din of battle, I suddenly heard 
 my own name called out. — I instantly looked 
 around me in hopes of recognising a friend, 
 whom probably I should never have another 
 chance of meeting alive. There was not an 
 officer near whom I knew. — Again, close by
 
 A WILL AND A AVAY. 221 
 
 me, my christian name was shouted aloud. — I 
 then saw, to my surprise, an old Etonian chum 
 hurry past me — to my surprise I say, for he 
 was serving in the army as a private soldier. 
 We kissed hands, for he was just out of reach, 
 and at such a moment there was no stopping 
 even to draw breath. — There, thought I, goes 
 to the shambles one of the bravest and kindest 
 creatm'es who'll fight or bleed to day. — And 
 sure enough my thoughts proved true — I 
 found his body that night on the parapet of 
 the fortifications, riddled with bullets, and 
 pierced through and through with bayonet 
 wounds. I superintended his burial, and 
 from off his neck I cut — the chain was 
 rivetted — I cut this locket, and of all the 
 trophies I possess there is not one I value so 
 much as this.*' 
 
 " No wonder ! " exclaimed Lady Derisley. 
 ^^But did you never discover who M. was? " 
 
 *^ There was no difficulty in finding that 
 out " said liaven. '^ My friend's family were
 
 222 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 perfectly well known to me; I soon learnt 
 from them the romantic history of the locket/' 
 
 '^ Of course " sighed Belinda, " M. died of 
 a broken heart." 
 
 " Of course she did no such thing," said 
 her brother. 
 
 ^^No!" said Eaven, ^^she did not die. — She 
 had been married to another man for nearly 
 two years." 
 
 " The wretch ! " exclaimed Belinda. 
 
 *^Yes," said Raven drily. ^^And I dis- 
 covered there were two other men in the 
 Peninsula both possessing locks of that 
 charming creature's hair." 
 
 *' Sic crescit numerus sic fiunt octo mariti 
 Omnique per autumnos ; titulo res digna sepulchri." 
 
 quoted Mr. Harrod. — ^' A circumstance 
 worthy a title on all their tombs." 
 
 A good half hour had now elapsed, still no 
 Sigismonds came. It was therefore agreed that 
 luncheon should be no longer delayed. When
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 223 
 
 it was over, ^' I wonder," began Belinda, '^ if 
 those people intend to come. They are, 
 without exception, the most abominable daw- 
 dles in the world — never in time for anything." 
 
 ^^ If they are not here soon," said Mr. Harrod, 
 ^^ we really ought to start. We are losing the 
 best part of the day ; and I am afraid it will 
 be very cold for the ladies, if we remain out 
 late." 
 
 "Yes," added Lady Derisley, "I do think 
 we have waited long enough, we can always 
 put in shore and pick them up." 
 
 " It's no use being in such a confounded 
 hurry," rejoined Mr. Allan. " Half the joke 
 is having old Sigismond in the boat." — 
 
 " To say nothing of his daughter," ob- 
 served Miss Derisley, in a stage whisper. 
 
 " Well, my dear BeU, you have two or 
 three men to flirt with, why shouldn't I be 
 amused too?" 
 
 In reply to this provoking speech, the 
 young lady pinched the fleshy part of her
 
 224 A WILL AND A WAT. 
 
 brother's arm. As she drew her hand away, 
 he caught his sister's fingers a smart rap 
 with a fork. This hurt so badly, she bit 
 her lips for pain. Mr. Harrod now busied 
 himself in helping Lady Derisley on with her 
 shawl ; and though Eaven and Fabian both 
 seemed to contrive delay, the lead the others 
 took they were obliged to follow. 
 
 When the party got to the water's edge, 
 they found Davy in charge of the boat, which 
 he had cleaned and cushioned, ready for them 
 The little vessel had been constructed ex- 
 pressly for sailing on the lagune. Its build, 
 therefore, was on a model which ensured 
 safety rather than speed. For while its 
 breadth — or what in nautical phraseology is 
 termed " beam " — ^bore such proportion to its 
 length that it would with difficulty have 
 capsized — a deck which covered all but the 
 steerage effectually prevented it filling with 
 water, even should a sudden squall force the 
 little craft "gunwale under." The keeping
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 225 
 
 of this pleasure boat was entrusted to Davy, 
 but not the sailmg of it. lie had never even 
 been further in the ^'Pomme de Terre" — such 
 was her name — than would have taken him 
 out of his depth. Mr. Harrod was no sailor 
 either; and Allan Derisley's sea-faring ex- 
 perience was confined to the waters of the 
 Isis; so that Raven and Fabian constituted, 
 on this occasion, the entire crew. It was re- 
 markable how much lacing and unlacing — 
 how much hoisting and hauling — these two 
 found to be done, before the ^^ Pomme " could 
 be got under weigh. In vain the two ladies 
 and two gentlemen passengers assured the 
 others the yard was close to the mast. 
 Fabian declared it was not yet what he called 
 " chock a block," and so lustily did Raven 
 and he tug to effect this end, that, after 
 hauling and straining with all their might, 
 bang went the stranded rope, and down came 
 yard and sail — crew and captain — with a 
 crash, upon the deck. At least three quarters 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 of an hour were now consumed in reeving 
 new ropes, and completing other requisite 
 fittings. At last everything was ready, and 
 Davy was receiving orders to cast off, when 
 three figures made their appearance on the 
 hill, waving their handkerchiefs as they came 
 running down with all haste towards the boat. 
 Meriel — ^for she it was, with Lady Fitzjohn and 
 Mr. Sigismond — ^made a thousand apologies 
 for being late; but so beaming was her face 
 with smiles — the blushes on her cheeks so 
 heightened her beauty — she looked so fresh, 
 so bright, so enchanting — that although half 
 the party already aboard wished her else- 
 where, her presence much more than counter- 
 balanced the consequence of their annoyance, 
 in the consideration of the remaining three. 
 Her meeting with the two travellers — Raven 
 and Fabian, that is — was the first which had 
 taken place since their return. Her response 
 to the warm greeting with which the elder of 
 the two expressed the sincerity of his pleasure
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 227 
 
 was most cordial. To Fabian, on the other 
 hand, she had but a moment to say *^How 
 d'ye do?" in. For the boat having been 
 shoved off directly the new comers were on 
 board — and he having the management of the 
 sails — the breeze, which now blew pretty 
 fresh, began to flap these about with such 
 violence that it demanded all the young navi- 
 gator's exertions to control them. 
 
 When the jib was set, and the sheets 
 hauled aft, the water purled and rattled under 
 the ribs of the "Pomme" right musically, and 
 the tight little craft ploughed through the lake, 
 leaving a white and sparkling furrow behind 
 her. The course agreed upon was to the 
 most distant end of the lake — that being the 
 freest from shoals or sand banks. Belinda, 
 much against the will of her brother, took 
 upon herself the duties of pilot. But her un- 
 skilfulness at this important post obliged 
 Raven to keep his hand constantly on the 
 tiller. Yet, even his attention being fre- 
 
 q2
 
 228 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 quently diverted by the general conversation, 
 the boat's head would now and then flap into 
 the wind, and every one of the passengers, 
 in consequence, get well splashed with spray 
 from top to toe. At length, the murmurs of 
 the whole party — supported by the polite 
 hints of Raven himself — induced Miss Derisley 
 to resign her place. She, however, gave it 
 up with reluctance, and showed afterwards so 
 much sullenness and bad humour, that Lady 
 ritzjohn,who could not bear to see any one out 
 of sorts, declared she would sooner be drenched 
 to the skin than have Belinda lose the pleasure 
 of wetting her. Naturally, the proposal to rein- 
 state the deposed steerer met with no favor, 
 but being rejected, added very considerably to 
 the distress of the aggrieved young lady. 
 
 Fortunately, there was one person in 
 the boat who, unlike the rest, escaped 
 the depressing influence of Miss Belinda's 
 dumps. Mr. Sigismond, in the first place, 
 could not see, and therefore could not
 
 A WILL AND A AVAY. 229 
 
 sympathise with, the expression of her face. 
 Secondly, his whole attention being absorbed 
 either in Meriel, or in thoughts about his art, 
 it seldom happened, and did not happen now, 
 that he took notice of such trivial episodes of 
 everyday life as the above. Unaffected, 
 therefore, by the pervading chill, which the 
 ill-nature of one in a party never fails to cast 
 over the whole, he seized the opportunity 
 afforded by the general silence to descant with 
 great fluency upon the beauties of Nature 
 which, he said, ever present themselves to 
 the eye of an artist ; albeit he should be 
 compelled to seek them, as now, in the 
 simple elements of a stormy sky and troubled 
 water. Dull though this style of entertain- 
 ment might be, it sufficed to give a cue to 
 pleasanter ideas than those it served to put 
 aside. Raven hinted that Fabian was a 
 capital singer, which he at once denied, 
 making fifty excuses, which were as quickly 
 objected to.
 
 230 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^^I know he had a voice," said Eaven, 
 "and it will be your fault (addressing the 
 ladies) if you do not make him find it/' 
 
 "After proving himself such an accom- 
 plished sailor, I am sure he must be able to 
 sing," said Lady Fitzjohn. 
 
 " If logic could make a fellow chirp, he 
 ought to tune up now," observed Mr. Allan. 
 
 " Here's Miss Derisley," interposed Mr. 
 Sigismond — thinking to serve two a good 
 turn — " dying to hear you." 
 
 " She is not doing anything of the kind," 
 muttered Belinda. 
 
 " How ought we to treat so obstinate 
 a gentleman ? " inquired Lady Derisley. 
 
 " You haven't asked him yet," whispered 
 Mr. Harrod to Meriel. 
 
 " He doesn't wish to sing, I suppose," was 
 her answer. 
 
 " Try him," said Harrod. 
 
 "Wont you sing?" asked Meriel, in a voice 
 not audible half the length of the boat.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 231 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " returned Fabian, 
 interrogatively, jumping aft to catch her 
 words. 
 
 "You are wanted to sing," repeated Miss 
 Sigismond. 
 
 " What an ungracious way of framing the 
 request," whispered Mr. Harrod, senior. 
 
 " I am afraid," said the vocalist, smiling 
 and coloring, " it would be but a sorry per- 
 formance if I attempted it." 
 
 Meriel sententiously replied that that re- 
 mained to be proved. 
 
 A place being already cleared for him on 
 the after part of the deck, there was no choice 
 left Fabian but to sit down and comply. 
 When his song was over, even Miss Belinda 
 joined a feeble applause with the others. Far 
 from the open air proving detrimental to the 
 rich tones of his manly voice, it compelled 
 him to exeit it more than he would have 
 tinisted himself to do in a confined space ; and 
 so successful was the consequence that eveiy
 
 232 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 one sincerely declared that he had never sung 
 a better song in his hfe. 
 
 ^^ If I might venture to advise Miss De- 
 risley!" exclaimed old Mr. Sigismond, when 
 Fabian had returned to his post, " she should 
 insist upon her future husband cultivating 
 that fine voice of his ; it is really a beautiful 
 tenor, which a little knowledge of the art 
 would teach him to manage to perfection." 
 
 '^ He prefers every body's playing to mine," 
 murmured Belinda, with a sidelong glance at 
 Miss Sigismond. ^^ I have constantly offered to 
 accompany him, but I know it bores him." 
 
 " He may think it bores you, my dear Bel," 
 suggested Miss Sigismond. 
 
 " True," said Belinda, with a slight sneer. 
 " It never occurred to me before, how con- 
 siderate he might be." 
 
 "• My dear Belinda," said Mr. Harrod, sooth- 
 ingly, '' it was only yesterday he regretted to 
 me that you cared so little for music." 
 
 ^^ Ah ! " sighed Mr. Sigismond, " lovers will
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 233 
 
 have theii' quarrels ; there's such a pleasure in 
 finding out they've both been mistaken." 
 
 '^That is as happens," said Allan; ^^ sometimes, 
 I take it, the discovery is deuced unpleasant." 
 
 Belinda looked in the direction of her 
 brother, who occupied the intervals between 
 his remarks, by manifesting his admiration for 
 Miss Sigismond, and said, ^'I could imagine 
 such a case." ♦. 
 
 "But I," said he " could name one, so there 
 I have the pull of you." 
 
 " 1 wish," said Raven, exchanging glances 
 with Meriel, while he spoke to Allan, "you 
 would take a pull at this rudder — my arms 
 ache — and I see by the water yonder there'll 
 be plenty of work for 'em before long." 
 
 Indeed the truth of this prediction was 
 gradually forcing itself upon the observation 
 of the whole party ; nor was it alone to spare 
 Miss Sigismond that Raven proposed for a 
 few minutes a change of places with Allan 
 Derisley. His arms really did ache ; and he
 
 234 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 wished at the same time he relieved Miss 
 Sigismond of an annoyance that she bore 
 with the greatest patience, to prepare him- 
 self, by a short rest, for the squall, which his 
 knowledge of these waters convinced him they 
 were shortly to be in the midst of. Fabian, 
 too, increased the alarm which his friend's words 
 had excited. He hailed Kaven from the bow 
 to resume the tiller, "for," cried he, "weVein 
 for a blow, and Allan must lend a hand to 
 shorten sail." His caution did not come too 
 early ; Allan had scarcely got back to the steer- 
 age, where all now lay ensconced under cloaks 
 and plaids, or whatever covering they could 
 lay hands on, when such a sudden gust bore 
 down upon them, that the little vessel careened 
 over till a good piece of her deck was clean 
 under water. Raven fearing nothing more 
 than the fright of his passengers, desired them 
 all, in the tones of one accustomed to be 
 obeyed, to sit over on the weather-side, and 
 for their lives not to stir a limb. A couple
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 235 
 
 of reefs had already been taken in the main- 
 sail. Fabian now hauled down the jib, and 
 the peak being lowered a foot or two the 
 gallant " Pomme/' released from the press of 
 canvass, again righted herself, and bore steadily 
 onward upon her homeward course. The dis- 
 tance yet to be run was about a mile ; but in 
 consequence of a bed of sunken rocks known 
 to be somewhere in the du-ect line between 
 the bay they had just left and the Wyldeacre 
 landing, Raven was obliged to steer across for 
 the opposite shore. 
 
 The storminess of the evening, together with a 
 dense mist, which thickened every minute, anti- 
 cipated the usual hour of darkness; the women 
 lay huddled together, undergoing the double 
 inconvenience of fear and discomfort ; of the 
 men, Allan, who was no coward, fared the best ; 
 for consulting no person's feelings but his own 
 he had secured more than his share of covering, 
 and lay snug enough under the lee of Mr. 
 Harrod, puffing the fumes of his lighted pipe
 
 236 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 full in the face of his neighbors. Harrod 
 himself neither shared the indifference of Mr. 
 Derisley, nor even bore his lot with the resig- 
 nation of Mr. Sigismond. But so distressing 
 were his terrors that he could not rest quiet 
 in one of the many postures which he succes- 
 sively assumed in a minute ; still the mist 
 thickened, or rather changed into a fine rain, 
 through which it was impossible to see a yard. 
 The waves, too, rose with the wind, and 
 almost at every plunge the boat took in ^^ a 
 sea," if fresh water waves may be so called, 
 that washed right over the combing to di^ench 
 the affrighted nestlers through cloaks, tar- 
 pauhns, and every bit of covering they had 
 on ; occasionally Eaven shouted to Fabian to 
 keep a sharp look out for land ; but not a 
 yard ahead could any eye have pierced the 
 fog. Both agreed it was time to put the 
 helm down, and run over ; both, too, expected 
 they had calculated the length of this tack to 
 such a nicety that the next would bring them
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 237 
 
 within a few yards of their proper landing. But 
 the words ^'Helm alee!" were not out of Raven's 
 mouth when a violent shock threw Fabian on 
 his back, and the women's screams, and crash- 
 ing of timbers, announced the fact that the 
 " Pomme" had run full tilt upon a rock. 
 
 Raven, never more calm than when in real 
 difficulty, instantly left the helm, and letting 
 fly the sheets, with Fabian's aid brailed up 
 the mainsail, which banged about in the gale 
 with a noise like claps of thunder. This done 
 he jumped below, where a hasty examination 
 soon inforaied him that the boat hung upon 
 the rock which pierced her planks, and which, 
 while it stopped the hole it made, would also 
 prevent the water from pouring in. His fear 
 was lest the wind should dash her to pieces 
 where she lay, yet to get her off was hopeless, 
 while freighted with a heavy cargo. Besides, 
 when moved, she would probably fill ere he 
 could stop the leak which, under any circum- 
 stances, would have been difficult to get at.
 
 238 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Having tried the depth of water alongside, he 
 discovered that it scarcely exceeded five feet ; 
 and now, for the first time, he turned to the 
 wretched Mr. Harrod who, with Lady Derisley 
 and her daughter, had done their best 
 throughout to bewilder him with senseless 
 applications. "■ The water is not deep," he 
 answered ; "we will carry the ladies on shore. ^' 
 So saying, he and Fabian both jumped out, 
 and, resting, their hands on each other's 
 shoulders, received Lady Derisley upon a sort 
 of seat thus constructed, and waded from the 
 boat to where the shallowness of the lake 
 taught them to seek dry land. Allan next 
 offered to carry Meriel by himself; she scorned 
 his proposition, but insisted on her father help- 
 ing to -rescue Lady Fitzjohn, who was lighter 
 than Miss Derisley. 
 
 The beach, as it turned out, was nearly a hun- 
 dred yards from the rock. This distance took 
 the waders some minutes to perform. But 
 after depositing their burdens in safety, the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 239 
 
 most active returned for another load. Meriel 
 demurred about going before her friend. She 
 was younger, she said — in short she hesitated, 
 and Belinda did not. As Miss Derisley joined 
 the others, Mr. Sigismond's look of disappoint- 
 ment did not pass unnoticed by Raven. The 
 old man had no strength to help them again ; 
 but he returned with Fabian to see his 
 treasure brought from the wreck. About half- 
 way between boat and land it so happened 
 that for a short space the mist rolled up with 
 a sudden gust of unwonted force. For the 
 one minute of clearance the boat, before 
 invisible, appeared distinctly to the eyes of 
 the three who now approached her. Who shall 
 paint their terror ? Raven alone knew how to 
 account for what they saw. The whole cargo 
 lifted from the vessel, she had gradually floated 
 from her position; turned in another direc- 
 i. tion, the wind had caught the sails, and tear- 
 ing them open in spite of the brails, which had
 
 240 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 not been fastened, she was bearing rapidly 
 away before the full vigour of the gale. 
 
 When Mr. Sigismond caught sight of Meriel 
 as she stood holding to the ropes with one hand, 
 and waving a last farewell with the other, 
 ^^ My child! my child!" he wildly cried. 
 " God ! who shall save my child ! '^ 
 
 Although Raven could not swim he pressed 
 forward, till, floundering out of his depth, he 
 was compelled to relinquish his attempt to 
 save her. Meanwhile Fabian had slipped off 
 his coat and shoes, and, being an excellent 
 swimmer, pursued the flying boat with strokes 
 of matchless energy. He knew the vessel's 
 course must be determined by the wind ; and 
 as the white foam left in the ^^ Pomme's " wake 
 convinced him he was close upon her, his 
 endurance never flagged until the dark out- 
 line of the boat's sails loomed through the 
 haze before him. This sight gave fresh vigour ^ 
 to his limbs, and soon he approached so near
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 241 
 
 as to perceive that the gunwale of the wreck 
 was almost on a level with the water's edge ; 
 she had then filled. The question was, would 
 she sink before he could overtake her ? This 
 thought made him gasp with apprehension ; 
 yet, despite the circumstance of her speed 
 being materially retarded by her depth, his 
 exertions had been, up till now, so much 
 beyond his power, that do what he would he 
 could not shorten the distance between them. 
 Call aloud he dared not, for he had not a 
 breath to throw away. On they went, pur- 
 suer and pursued ; it was a dreadful chace, 
 for to both death seemed every moment to 
 grow more inevitable. 
 
 Now, reader, I must ask if ever you 
 swam a longer distance than you could well 
 get over ? Did you ever know what it is to 
 fight against an element that gains a mastery 
 over you as you with every effort necessarily 
 lose strength to combat with it ? Have you 
 experienced in such a phght the appaUing con- 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 viction that the little power you had left 
 could at most last but a few minutes longer ? 
 at the end of which period — unless some aid 
 came that you knew could not come, unless 
 by miracle — the cold, suffocating, unconscious 
 waters would as surely close over your living 
 head as they would close over a sinking stone. 
 You reflecting the while, they must obey their 
 laws; reflecting you were born to die, and 
 why not now ? by no other death than millions 
 had died before you ? Then hope withers — ^then 
 comes paralysing despair — ^then fierce mad- 
 dened struggles which exhaust the sooner — 
 then a gulp of water — the lungs are choked 
 with a single drop — then the broken hearted 
 agony of death in life — ^the closing eyes, and 
 the last thought here, '^ My hour is come. 
 God have mercy on my soul !" 
 
 It was very near to this that Fabian came. 
 But love is mighty, and, pushed to the last 
 extremity, his thoughts still were, '' Could he 
 save her?'^ And what did Meriel feel in such
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 243 
 
 an hour ? Did she know her lover was so near 
 her ? Yes ! she knew it. She stood up upon 
 the deck ; she saw the drowning man — for he 
 was very close — she heard him buffetting with 
 the water ; she heard him spitting it from his 
 breathless mouth ; she strained her senses to 
 take leave of him for ever, for the boat carried 
 her away, and he lagged more and more 
 behind. Presently she could see no more; 
 her eyes were too full of tears ; it was too 
 dark. Her ears refused to hear; the rain 
 and storm deluged all; she sank upon her 
 knees, and prayed for Fabian and herself. 
 How she clasped her hands ; how motionless 
 her lips were; but her heart — her spirit — 
 throbbed with passionate supplication to Him 
 who has the power to save. Oh ! who can 
 tell the efficacy of heart-wrung prayers like 
 those, when they who breathe them feel heaven 
 cannot withstand their fervency ? To hers it 
 seemed heaven did vouchsafe an answer. It 
 came like inspiration ; the sudden thought 
 
 r2
 
 244 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 that she could stop the boat. It was short 
 work then to loose the ropes which kept the 
 sails up. Down fell the yard, and the boat, 
 so deep, so little exposed to the wind, went 
 on so slowly, that even Fabian's feeble strug- 
 gles brought him to its side. Both thanked 
 heaven devoutly as they knelt upon the deck ; 
 and, after this, as silently they thanked each 
 other, Meriel's hand remained in Fabian's, 
 where she herself had placed it, until he 
 devoutly kissed it ; and when he had done so 
 the burning thoughts of years were branded 
 into both their hearts, never more to be 
 effaced. 
 
 The first word he spoke was to bid her 
 mind the helm while he hoisted the sail half- 
 mast. He told her he saw now the boat was 
 water-logged, and could therefore sink no 
 deeper. The promise of safety was, however, 
 quite unneeded. Her mind was perfectly 
 calm. Fabian was there. God would pro- 
 vide for the rest, as he had provided for them
 
 A WILL AND A AVAY. 245 
 
 until now. When the sail was up he took 
 the rudder from her, till by-and-by the keel 
 grated on the beach, and they got safe to 
 land. 
 
 But Raven's house was not yet reached. 
 Before they got there they had far to go, and 
 ill to fare. Which side of the landing they 
 were on was somewhat hard to tell. They 
 ascertained there was a morass to cross, and 
 the night was black as the mud through which 
 they had to flounder. Poor Meriel ! she would 
 have given in, and lain down to perish in 
 that swampy wilderness, where only bitterns 
 habited, if Fabian had been just then at the 
 bottom of the lake ; and what would he have 
 done without Meriel? both these thoughts 
 were her's. When they came at last oiF the 
 morass on to the road, its new-broke flints 
 cut Fabian's bare feet to shreds, and thereby 
 caused feelings of pain to his companion 
 which were even greater than those which 
 he himself suffered. He had no handker-
 
 246 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 chief, for his coat was left behind, so she 
 gave him her's for one foot, and something 
 from her neck for another. But these flimsy 
 things were worthless sandals to walk upon 
 sharp flints with ; therefore, ere he could 
 stop her she tore large pieces from her plaid, 
 which in fine she herself tied on, for he either 
 wittingly or otherwise fumbled till she was 
 forced to help him. From this until they 
 reached the house, she would have him lean 
 upon her arm. And when Fabian remem- 
 bered these little things, as he did times out 
 of mind afterwards ; when he remembered what 
 Meriel was to him that dreadful night ; how 
 the very tones of her voice were tenderer 
 than ever mere pity could make them ; and 
 compared these remembrances with the proud, 
 reserved, tantalizing, and saucy little crea- 
 ture which Meriel appeared to be in every- 
 day life; he thought — I daresay you, good 
 reader, have done so often — "What queer 
 creatures these women are ! " But did not
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 247 
 
 make the reflection, which I dare also say 
 is your's, that Nature is more inexorable 
 than art. 
 
 The surprise of Raven^s housekeeper almost 
 equalled her joy when the forlorn remnant of 
 the pleasiu'e party returned, especially as 
 these brought tidings of her master's safety. 
 She painted a woful picture of her distress, 
 and told how she had despatched Davy with 
 a pine torch an hour ago to the head of the 
 lake, but never expected to see any soul of 
 them again. Here she shed a few tears in 
 consideration of misfortunes which might have 
 befallen herself. But seeing how wet Meriel 
 was, she began to bestir herself on the be- 
 half of others. She now declared Miss Slgis- 
 mond would catch her death if she stood 
 reeking there in wet things ; and, taking her 
 out of Fabian's hearing, tried to i)ersuade the 
 girl to put on some of her enormous petti- 
 coats, &c. Meriel obstinately declined, and 
 I verily believe would have run much greater
 
 248 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 risks of catching Ler death, rather than have 
 appeared before her present companion in the 
 dress of the worthy but massive housekeeper. 
 She^ however, thanked Mrs. Dolphin for the 
 generous oiFer, and desired her to order the 
 carriage to the door without delay ; for, she 
 said, it might be half an hour before her father 
 could get back — they had at least four miles 
 to walk — in which time the carriage could 
 almost take her home and return. 
 
 It may seem to some inconsistent with 
 Meriers unselfish nature to leave her parent 
 to walk a long distance in a dark and rainy 
 night ; when his suspense, on her account, 
 must have been intolerable. Why did she not 
 rather send the carriage to meet him, and 
 wait at Wyldeacre till he came ? Her first 
 thought was of him, and this was certainly 
 her first intention. Why did she change it ? 
 Perhaps, my fair readers, you can guess, if 
 others cannot. You can imagine a situation 
 in which Meriel Sigismond and Fabian Harrod
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 249 
 
 might be placed, even more trying to tlie 
 nerves, of one at least, than the terrors 
 of a wreck at sea. You can imagine what 
 in Fabian's manner made Meriel long for 
 the housekeeper's return every moment the 
 old woman stayed away about the carriage ; 
 and how impossible — yes, impossible (in her 
 opinion) — it would be for them to remain to- 
 gether — alone — for heaven knew what length 
 of time. The hour of danger and suffering was 
 past now ; but it had revealed strange secrets 
 to both then' hearts. It had revealed to each the 
 double revelation of their own heart's secret, 
 and the still more pregnant riddle of the senti- 
 ments of each towards the other. There needed 
 no spoken words for such a purpose. The 
 tongue is the least powerfid of Love's inter- 
 preters ; and this was the only one, Meriel per- 
 fectly well could see, which Fabian did not 
 use when she and he were left together. But 
 say you her tenderness in the wreck and after- 
 wards, when more alone with him than now.
 
 250 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 was unrestrained, and if she felt to him as 
 she perceived he felt to her, why behave 
 so differently? Fabian asked himself the 
 question, for he could read her manner as 
 easily as she read his thoughts. Was it 
 mere woman's caprice ? woman's coyishness ? 
 woman's timidity ? he wondered. No ! none 
 of these — had he known Meriel better, he 
 would have spared her the imputation of such 
 frivolity. She acted from a sense of duty, 
 more stringent in her eyes, at that moment, 
 than the saving of her father from half an 
 hour's wetting, or from twice that length of 
 time's suspense. Her trepidation, her hurry 
 to be gone was to spare her father, her lover, 
 and herself, a greater pain than she inflicted. 
 Fabian was engaged to Belinda. If he could 
 not control his passion while this present 
 temptation lasted, she, at all events, could 
 remove temptation, and would command her- 
 self. 
 
 The usual elasticity of Fabian's spirit left
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 251 
 
 him, when, in a fleeting review, his prospects 
 rose up before him. His engagement to 
 BeUnda being of an indefinite date, might have 
 no definite period. It was, therefore, hke an 
 engagement to celibacy ; but such a pledge 
 became a thousand times less tolerable after 
 the occurrences of the last few hours. These 
 threw his spirit into rebellion against his 
 father's wishes. What right had one to bind 
 and fetter him? Besides, Belinda cared no 
 more for him than he could ever care for her. 
 Had not Meriel been the love of his life ? If 
 he could only be sure now of what he felt 
 quite certain of when they were on the wreck, 
 he would snap all his old bonds asunder, and 
 bind himself anew with chains that he would woo 
 to wear for ever. Mrs. Dolphin entered just 
 as he reached this climax ; had it been otherwise, 
 it is possible, notwithstanding the stoutness of 
 Meriel's resistance, that our story might have 
 been told in one volume, instead of being, 
 as now, prolonged to two. The housekeeper
 
 252 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 waddled into the room to announce the car- 
 riage, bearing in her hands a tray, upon which 
 was set the particular kind of cake she had 
 so carefully provided for Miss Sigismond's 
 luncheon. 
 
 ^^ There!" she exclaimed, with a puff to 
 relieve her exertions, as she placed the tray 
 upon the table. ^^We didn't neglect you, 
 Miss, though master was afraid some of the 
 company would neglect him." 
 
 ^^We were rather late," returned Meriel, 
 setting inuendos aside ; " but you don't 
 expect me to have my lunch now, do you. 
 Dolphin?" 
 
 *^What! not taste the cake!" exclaimed 
 the astonished matron. " Well ! if she was 
 to inform master that Miss Meriel would 
 not touch a morsel after all the fuss he 
 had made about her tastes, she was sure 
 he would be fit to do, she didn't know 
 what." 
 
 ^^ Really Dolphin," answered Meriel, ^4f
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 253 
 
 you persuade me I have been the cause of 
 so much trouble, I shall never like to come to 
 Wyldeacre again." 
 
 ^' Trouble, indeed!" quoth the officious dame. 
 *- Master would walk to America and back 
 barefooted to please Miss Meriel, any day." 
 
 "Well!" said Meriel, "you must thank 
 him from me, for as the carriage is up, I must 
 be gone at once." 
 
 Fabian followed her to the door. 
 
 " I hope," said Meriel, " you will not have 
 long to wait before the others come in." 
 
 " I shall follow you," he replied. 
 
 "How?" exclaimed Miss Sigismond, think- 
 ing of his wounded feet, and of the vacant 
 seats in her carriage. 
 
 " I have a horse," he answered, partly to 
 her relief and partly (she was a woman) to 
 her disappointment. 
 
 " Good night," she said, as he squeezed her 
 hand, " I owe you much — very much for this 
 night's debt — more than I can ever repay you."
 
 254 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 As she spoke the last sentence her voice 
 slightly faltered, and the pressure of the hand 
 with which it was accompanied, left a sensa- 
 tion in his own which is equally hard to he 
 described or forgotten.
 
 255 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " You'll have over much of that 'bacco, old 
 woman, presently, if you don't mind what 
 you're after ! " said Isaac Sandford to his 
 mother, who was coughing till the blood- 
 vessels in her head and neck swelled almost to 
 bursting. 
 
 " Ugh! ugh! ugh!" strained the old beldam 
 as the tears streamed from her bleared eyes. 
 "God ha' mercy! ugh! I shall not — ugh! ugh! 
 die, but live." 
 
 " I wouldn't advise you to chant that verse 
 too securely," said the son, with a horse 
 chuckle. 
 
 "Tush ! boy ! there's others wanted afore old 
 Molly. He shall smite the heathens and de-
 
 256 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 liver their beauties, ha ! ha ! — their beauties 
 into the enemies' hands. Where's Mark ?" 
 whispered the hag, bending forward to catch 
 the answer. 
 
 ii Digging taters." 
 
 ^^ I wish he had Jack's sperit ; we shouldn't 
 have such a job to keep Jack out o' sight, 
 should us ? " 
 
 " Mark's a fool ! he's too soft by half ! " 
 
 " D'ye think he'd blab if we tell'd un Jack 
 had 'scaped from the convicts, and was kept 
 stowed i' the Priory cave ? " 
 
 '^ Like enough he would ; you see he's so 
 confoundedly pious there's no trusting of him." 
 
 ^^ If Jack's time was up 'twould be a 
 good job wouldn't it? He might give his 
 evidence then agin Harrod. — We'd work 
 this lot another way. Ye see," continued 
 Mother Sandford, her son not responding, 
 ^' 'twas well knowed it were bekase he 
 see this un shoot old Harrod — all the folks 
 round knowed that was the reason — why
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 257 
 
 this here devil worked so to get him sent off, — 
 for Jack wern't, so to say, a regular poacher, 
 he didn't kill more game 'an we wanted. 
 'Tweren't as if he killed for the market, 
 was it? But Harrod hired chaps to swear 
 he was always poaching. — The lying thieves ! 
 they'll bui'n for it, and he too, I'll warrant 
 un." 
 
 ^^ What's all that about, mother?'^ said 
 Mark, who entered from the garden to slake 
 his thirst with a draught of fresh water. "Who 
 are lying thieves mother? These are strongish 
 words, and bad ones to make use of, whoso- 
 ever deserves them." 
 
 " When my heart is vexed I will complain,'* 
 retorted the crone. " If you was your father's 
 son, boy, you'd learn to hate them that ruined 
 your father's children. But the children of 
 Ephraim turned themselves back in the day of 
 battle, — mumble, mumble." 
 
 " We should learn to love our enemies, not 
 to hate them, mother." 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^* They wouldn't be much enemies if we 
 didn't hate 'em, would they Isaac?" 
 
 '' No mother," Mark answered for his bro- 
 ther, ^^ you're right. They'd soon be our 
 friends if we treated 'em as such." 
 
 " That's all you know about it," said Isaac. 
 ^^ I suppose Harrod, now, would be tremen- 
 dous friendly, if he knowed you'd forgiv'd him 
 for transporting Jack, and dishonoring a re- 
 spectable family. He's so terrible forgivin', 
 he is." 
 
 '' Well, I hope he might. But if he didn't 
 others might." 
 
 " It aint no business of ourn if they chooses 
 to go to everlasting punishment, are it ? " said 
 Mrs. Sandford, timidly. She seldom spoke a 
 word, excepting as now, to support her hus- 
 band's views. 
 
 '' I wish," continued Mark, ^^ you weren't 
 always speaking of Mr. Harrod as though you 
 would do him a mischief if you could." 
 
 ^^ So I would, precious quick," growled the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 259 
 
 brother, *' if I had the chance, — and t' others 
 too." 
 
 "What others, Isaac?" 
 
 "What others? Why them as passed sen- 
 tence on Jack that should ha' sentence passed 
 on themselves, for a pack o' liars and murder- 
 ers, as they are." 
 
 " You surely can't mean Mr. Sigismond!" 
 
 "Don't I though? Wasn't he the magis- 
 trate who tried Jack ? If it hadn't been for 
 Sigismond, Jack would have got off. I was 
 in court, and so were you, and you know 
 Mark, as well as me, it was along of that old 
 fool Jack's business was clinched. — But I'll 
 clinch some of 'em yet." 
 
 " Wengeance is the Lord's," cried Molly, 
 " and wengeance is sweet." 
 
 " I wish mother you would not put such 
 constructions on the language of Scripture as 
 you are in the habit of doing. As for Mr. 
 Sigismond, Isaac, what he did I'll be bound 
 for it he thought right. There's not a more 
 
 s2
 
 260 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 straightforward, kinder-heai'ted gentleman in 
 the country. If he acted any ways wrong, it 
 was in listening over much to Mr. Harrod. 
 That brother Jack was innocent I have no 
 manner of doubt. But perhaps Mr. Harrod 
 thought Jack suspected him of shooting his 
 uncle purposely. Jack did suspect that I 
 know, though he might have been mistaken, 
 — the best of us are at times. And if Mr. 
 Harrod really took Jack for a poacher, why his 
 fears about Jack's suspicions were sure to 
 make him anxious to get him out of the way." 
 
 " Yes ! but old Sigismond had no reason for 
 being so d — d hard upon us." 
 
 '^ What could he do ? Mr. Harrod couldn't 
 act as magistrate where the man tried was 
 accused by himself. The case therefore stood 
 in course before Mr. Sigismond. When you 
 think what evidence they brought together, I 
 don't wonder any one who did'nt know Jack 
 believed him guilty." 
 
 ^^ Didn't Sigismond know him?" said the
 
 A >V1LL AND A WAY. 261 
 
 old woman. ^^ Didn't his family know our 
 family ever so long? Han't we served un 
 from generation to generation? and wasn't the 
 old man behoven to us more 'an to send a son 
 of mine to Botany Bay ? " 
 
 " The more he was behoven to us, mother, 
 the more hard was it for him to do his 
 duty. Poor old man ! he almost cried when 
 he convicted Jack. I'm sure it cost Mr. 
 Sigismond as much to pass that sentence as 
 it did us to hear it, and, considering what he 
 has done for the family first and last, since 
 then, he deserves no ill-will, but quite the 
 contrary, from any of us." 
 
 " Well ! well !" said Molly, in a consolatory 
 tone, ^^ He visits the sins of the fathers on the 
 children. There's many things mun come to 
 pass yet. I tell'd Meriel the tale of the 
 Prior's curse. I see she didn't want to hear 
 un, but I tell'd un all the more for that. Fd 
 liked for her to have heerd the end of the 
 curse, but some'at stopped me — I forgets what
 
 262 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 now though ; my memory aint so fresh as it 
 have been. I'm poured out like water now. 
 The Lord help old Molly ! But my praise is 
 allust of Thee in the great congregation — 
 leastwise it used to be, when I warn't too 
 much of a cripple to get there, though 
 Pilgrim's only a psalm-singing hypocrite, he 
 ben't. But the Lord wont put that to my 
 account — mumble, mumble. I don't forget 
 the Prior's curse, though. Meriel knows the 
 curse as well as I do, for all she didn't want 
 to hear it. — ^ Your children and your children's 
 children shall die untimely deaths; one only 
 shall he spared to bring down the curse — and 
 never shall the curse depart until the parent of 
 its last victim shall hang and rot upon a gibbet.' " 
 Having delivered herself of these terrible sen- 
 tences, she lit her pipe, and sucked her with- 
 ered cheeks into the hollows of her toothless 
 gums as if she had been sucking the hearts' 
 blood of the Harrods and the Sigismonds. 
 When the language of malice was silent, Mark
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 263 
 
 looked sadly from his mother to Isaac, and 
 went up to his labour at the Hall garden. 
 Preaching morality to either he well knew to 
 be a fi'uitless work. Quiet remonstrance, 
 united to the effect of his own good example, 
 was, he wisely judged, the best method of 
 keeping their bad dispositions in check. He 
 saw how malignantly they both cherished the 
 recollection of his transported brother's 
 wrongs ; and he lived in constant dread lest 
 they should inflame theu^ hatred until it found 
 gi'atification in some act of secret revenge. 
 His good sense told him that the moderation 
 of his own conduct alone could, and did, as 
 he fancied, preserve to him a share in their 
 confidence. And although in this he was 
 mistaken, as we have just seen, with them, 
 the continual presence of good had, as it must 
 ever have with all, a secret influence which 
 counteracted the overt potency of their evil 
 intentions. 
 
 In the case of Molly and her son, the influ-
 
 264 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ence we speak of was unfortunately derived 
 more from fear than admiration of Mark's 
 virtues ; so that when Mark was out of the 
 way, they naturally dismissed rather than 
 dwelt upon the recollection of him. He had 
 scarcely gone a hundred yards from the cottage 
 when the remaining couple fell-to abusing not 
 only the Harrods and Sigismonds, but like- 
 wise Mark himself The language which they 
 deemed unfit for his ears, we shall certainly 
 not inflict on any one elses. 
 
 Possibly the gist of the foregoing conversa- 
 tion, that part at least relating to Mr. Harrod, 
 has somewhat confused the reader. A few 
 outlines of this gentleman's life will soon ex- 
 plain the circumstances to which Molly and 
 her son so sinisterly alluded. They will also 
 elucidate Mr. Harrod's motives for allying 
 himself by marriage to the family of the 
 Derisleys. 
 
 For some generations past the Harrods had 
 possessed a thousand acres or so of freehold
 
 A AVILL AND A WAY. 265 
 
 in the parish of D . By constant con- 
 trivance, and by personal merit, the hist pos- 
 sessor, (our Mr. Harrod's uncle) had raised 
 his position from that enjoyed by his ancestors, 
 as respected yeomen, to the grade of esquire, 
 and justice of the peace. This esquire lived 
 and died a bachelor. Most of his relatives 
 were in humbler stations of life than himself, 
 and, notwithstanding the generous way in 
 w^hich he supplied them from his purse — the 
 basis whereon his gentility rested was in his 
 judgment not adequately solid to permit of too 
 noticeable a familiarity with a kindred of whom 
 he was by no means proud. 
 
 One alone of his relations found favor in his 
 eyes ; this one was his nephew. But besides 
 instilling into his brother's son the maxims 
 by which his own elevation had been achieved, 
 Mr. Harrod (the uncle) showed no particular 
 interest in the youth destined to succeed him. 
 The world supposed the old bachelor had adop- 
 ted as his heir a son of Lord Mountseer's, since
 
 266 A AVILL AND A WAY. 
 
 for the boy he professed the warmest affection. 
 When at Granstein, he was treated with extra 
 hospitality ; no attention could possibly be 
 thrown away upon one who undoubtedly in- 
 tended to leave a young Granstein a compact 
 estate worth two or three thousand per annum. 
 Mr. Harrod (the last) did not consider it 
 worth his while to destroy so pleasing an 
 illusion. Sagacious ones used to hint that 
 the old bachelor was a sly ambitious man, 
 and that the Mountseers were over sanguine. 
 But as this virtuous and noble family held 
 with the poet, ^^ Et genus et virtus, nisi cum 
 re, vilior alga est,'^ which, freely translated, 
 might mean that ^* mere birth is more con- 
 temptible than sea-weed, and vktue consists 
 in the possession of riches," they were content 
 to lavish then* condescension in expectance of 
 an equivalent, while the cunning yeoman bor- 
 rowed importance from the ancient respec- 
 tability of the Mountseers, at the cost of 
 an occasional tip to the son. When the
 
 A WILL AND A WAT. 267 
 
 settling day came — upon Mr. Harrod's de- 
 mise — the noble family were out of heart and 
 out of pocket. The quid p^o quo was not 
 quite commensurate to their expectations. 
 
 The old man's death was sudden. He fell 
 by the accidental discharge of his nephew^s 
 gun, while they were partridge-shooting toge- 
 ther on his own land. At the opening of his 
 will people opened their eyes to find the man 
 by whose hand he had been deprived of life 
 left heir to his entire fortune and estates. 
 Never backward in surmising possibilities, 
 usually as unfavorable as can be conceived 
 for the credit of those whom they concern, 
 the world at once whispered the accident did 
 not appear so purely accidental as could be 
 wished. Yet, all things taken into considera- 
 tion, the grounds of suspicion were very 
 slight. There was little likelihood the de- 
 ceased should have acquainted his nephew 
 with an intention which, once rumoured, 
 would have cost him the friendship of the
 
 268 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 noble house whose intimacy went further per- 
 haps to estabUsh his position than any pre- 
 tence he had to actual consequence. 
 
 He had, moreover, survived the accident 
 for some days, during which time his lawyer 
 had been with him, for the purpose, as it 
 afterwards appeared, of making some trifling 
 alterations in his will. If, as the nephew's 
 friends remarked, Mr. Harrod himself had 
 imagined ill of his successor, assuredly he 
 would have left his money elsewhere, even 
 could he have forborne to hint at that person's 
 guilt. But the fact of the inheritor's friends 
 finding themselves called upon to offer argu- 
 ments in his defence, is in itself sufficient 
 proof that the heir was suspected by his 
 enemies. In short. Opinion — whom some 
 wise man has proclaimed to be the Queen of 
 the World — got at last to rule the neighbour- 
 hood with a sway so prejudicial to the sur- 
 viving Mr. Harrod's tastes, that he found the 
 uncharitableness of the county surpass the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 269 
 
 endurance of his Christian fortitude, and for 
 several years relinquished his country seat, 
 and spent its proceeds in the less fastidious 
 circles of oui' modern Babylon. 
 
 About ten years before his first intro- 
 duction to the reader, and about seven from 
 the day of his succession, Mr. Harrod re- 
 turned to Darsingham. The interval of his 
 absence was long enough to blunt the shai'p- 
 ness of calumny — the pleasures of which 
 depend a good deal upon novelty. He re- 
 sumed his duties on the bench, and wielded 
 his commission with unflinching austerity. 
 But a very little experience taught him that 
 any attempt to imitate the example of his pre- 
 decessors by applying the principal family in 
 the county to his own aggrandisement would 
 be a waste of time and labor. He had still a 
 status to establish — still a blemished reputation 
 to repair : both these ends he purposed to 
 effect through the assistance of liis nearest 
 neighbours. And the Derisleys, if not the
 
 270 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 first, were, at all events, the second, impor- 
 tant family in the county. 
 
 Mr. Harrod made an artistic survey of 
 Carrol and its inmates. The apparently 
 phlegmatic and obviously handsome sybarite, 
 he at once marked out as the pointe cVappui 
 of his future tactics. Her seeming indifference 
 did not pass with him for unconcern. He 
 sounded her character, and one Hash of her 
 eye swept away the illusion of her immutable 
 apathy. 
 
 Appearances are so deceptive that, were we 
 always carried away by them, I vow it would 
 be difficult to put one's finger on an innocent 
 person. A maxim of Des Cartes says, 
 ^' Whatever admits of a doubt cannot be re- 
 ceived as true." Precisely the opposite doc- 
 trine seems to be practised by those who 
 gratuitously pass judgment on their fellow 
 beings. With them the maxim is, " What- 
 ever appears to be true cannot admit of a 
 doubt." Still, the former axiom, though
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 271 
 
 originally adopted in a less orthodox spirit, 
 seems, on the whole, most in accordance with 
 those holy instructions which teach us not to 
 judge one another at all. After these reflec- 
 tions, therefore, we forbear to raise conjec- 
 tures upon the means by which Mr. Harrod 
 obtained his influence over Lady Derisley. 
 An influence, however, he did obtain, and of 
 its irresistible nature the acute reader must 
 have observed indications from the first 
 moment they appeared on the scene together. 
 The subjugation of her ladyship's husband 
 was an affair of greater ease. Testy, crabbed, 
 selfish. Sir Foy expected everything of every- 
 body. None, therefore, stirred limb for him 
 offcener than obliged. In this helpless and 
 pitiable state, attention was so great a contrast 
 to neglect that Harrod readily made his 
 presence indispensable. Incompetent to con- 
 duct the management of his own estates, the 
 baronet committed his affairs, with great self- 
 gratulation, to the control of his able friend.
 
 272 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 He offered this worthy coadjutor a thousand 
 a-year to audit his accounts ; but the offer 
 was declined with the warmest assurances of 
 disinterested regard. Not a farm-building 
 underwent repak without Mr. Harrod's assent. 
 The bailiff, selected for the office by Mr. 
 Harrod himself, swore by the discretion of 
 Sir Foy's best friend. Defaulting tenants, 
 whom the little baronet — wrathful as he was — 
 had not pluck to face, trembled before the 
 inexorable auditor. In ten years. Sir Foy's 
 estates rose twenty per cent, in value, and at 
 last the baronet was astounded at the enor- 
 mous credit which stood to his account. 
 
 But the disposal of Sir Foy's wealth had 
 now become the most important feature in 
 Mr. Harrod's schemes, and the rich man 
 was delighted to be relieved of an onerous 
 responsibility. In the natural course of 
 things, the heir of Carrol might have inter- 
 fered with Harrod's plans. Fortunately for 
 the success of these, Mr. Allan Derisley
 
 A ^VILL AND A WAY. 273 
 
 evinced an early taste for the society of 
 grooms, horses, betting people, &c., and this 
 taste — though excessively fashionable, and so 
 far as I know (except by hearsay) perfectly 
 honourable — afforded our conspirator a con- 
 venient lever for ousting Mr. Derisley from 
 his father's good graces. The baronet listened 
 with alarm to the warning voice which foretold 
 bankruptcy as the penalty attached to his 
 son's control of the exchequer. Already he 
 saw his park converted into a training ground, 
 his grooms transformed into pigmies, his sub- 
 stance consumed by blacklegs, and himself com- 
 pelled to wear cut away coats — too happy if he 
 could keep his gouty legs out of trousers cut to 
 that fashion which preserves with fondness the 
 association of a bandage. Mr. Allan remained 
 in blissful ignorance of the good turn he owed to 
 Mr. Harrod ; and while he continued to find 
 plenty of friends of the Hebrew persuasion 
 prompt to supply him with the means of 
 indulging his predilections, he never troubled 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 his head to contend with his father, nor 
 quarrelled with Harrod for sparing his indo- 
 lence the trouble of managing estates shortly, 
 as he thought, to become his own. Mr. 
 Harrod watched with infinite composure the 
 embarrassment of Allan's share of the Carrol 
 property* Meanwhile, he took every precau- 
 tion to settle the other portion on Miss 
 Derisley, whose hand, thus richly endowed, he 
 destined for his own son. Here was the 
 summit of his designs. Connected by this 
 intimate tie to a family of unexceptionable 
 position — his son's wife possessed of fortune 
 enough to purchase a fair estate, and the pos- 
 sibility of a reversion of the whole Carrol pro- 
 perty in favor of his daughter-in-law — who 
 would impugn his respectability, or turn with 
 insolent frigidity upon him who had once been 
 treated as a suspected adventurer ?
 
 275 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Between Raven and Meriel Sigismond — it 
 is time we spoke of these two — the closest 
 intimacy had existed for many years. Her 
 friendship for him was of a higher order 
 perhaps than she felt for any other acquain- 
 tance ; Mr. Harrod she liked because she took 
 his part against accusers — and believed more- 
 over in the affection he professed for herself; 
 Lady Fitzjohn being faultless in MerieFs eyes, 
 was loved as a matter of course. But Raven 
 occupied a more exalted position in her regard 
 than either of these or of any others whom 
 we have not spoken of: — his sincerity she 
 was sure equalled Harrod's, his tenderness, 
 formerly, had not been surpassed by Lady 
 
 T 2
 
 276 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Fitzjolm's. Miss Sigismond's earliest recollec- 
 tions of Raven placed him in a more favorable 
 light than any other of her parents' friends. 
 What though " Goody " brought her presents, 
 Raven's were better; they evidently cost more 
 than Lady Fitzjohn's ; and children are 
 strangely discriminating. If Goody told her 
 fairy tales, they were pretty tales, yet, had 
 she not read them for herself out of the books 
 Raven gave her? His stories were of real 
 princes and princesses — of fairies whom she 
 was disappointed not to meet in the woods 
 every evening — of wonderful adventures of 
 his own — of battles, shipwrecks, &c., and all 
 of them quite, quite true. AYhen Goody 
 romped with her, the child saw that Goody 
 was only playing a very moderate child's part. 
 When Raven joined her games, what pleased 
 her most, was to see how intensely pleased he 
 truly was himself. 
 
 For some years she had seen nothing, 
 scarcely heard of this friend. When he came
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 277 
 
 back, she had outgrown Goody and spelling 
 books, and was fast wearing out a whole suit 
 of governesses. Of all matrons Goody was 
 the worst at engaging a governess. Any 
 governess who could manage a child, though 
 no match for a girl in her teens, might, if she 
 possessed the least perception, insist, in five 
 minutes, on Goody engaging her. And when 
 after the first week it was discovered that this 
 virago, who had tyrannized over Lady Fitz- 
 john, was constantly being locked up in the 
 school-room by Miss Meriel ; however im- 
 portant it then became that the governess 
 should leave, half a year generally slipped 
 away ere the poor little matron could harden 
 her heart, or screw up sufficient courage to 
 dismiss her. By the time Raven retui-ned, 
 both old Sigismond and Lady Fitzjohn were 
 at their wits ends to moderate the spirits and 
 control the romping tricks of the child. Of 
 Raven's interference Mr. Sigismond was ex- 
 tremely jealous — yet he could not help ob-
 
 278 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 serving that after the return of this gentleman 
 a vast amelioration soon manifested itself in 
 MerieFs general conduct; just with the same 
 success with which he had told his fairy tales 
 before he told her what instructed now ; she 
 learnt more from him in an afternoon stroll, than 
 Goody, the governess, and old Sigismond 
 could teach her in six months. Full well she 
 understood this, and took pleasure in Raven's 
 society even for the advantage she derived 
 from it ; for, light of heart and wild spirited 
 as she was, she possessed an astonishing share 
 of sense, and had more ambition than any of 
 her belongings suspected. Indeed from about 
 the time she was sixteen years old, she con- 
 tinued to take more and more pains with her- 
 self ; and so assiduous was she in this work of 
 improvement, that ere long she had completely 
 subdued most of her little failings, and by 
 degrees succeeded in adorning her mind and 
 character with as many charms as nature had 
 lavished upon her person. Lady Fitzjohn, like
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 279 
 
 Mr. Sigismond, perceived the useful influence 
 which Raven exerted over the sweet creature 
 whom she doted upon, and sometimes fancied 
 the relationship might thereafter become of a 
 still more intimate and more sacred nature. 
 
 The reader who now knows the secrets of 
 Miss Meriel's heart, may judge how completely 
 the good little woman was in error. Yet her 
 esteem and affection for Kaven ripened with 
 each year of their friendship. As she grew to 
 woman's estate, and saw more of the world, 
 she better understood how to account for the 
 preference she had ever given to him. In the 
 comparison she made between him and others, 
 she found him, (so she thought) , bolder, larger 
 hearted, more intelligent, profound, original, 
 and more honest, earnest, and sincere, than 
 the rest. Then too she liked him better, 
 because she understood him less than many 
 others. She was interested about him. He 
 was occasionally vague in his conversation, 
 averse to speaking of himself, she never could
 
 280 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 gather from him the history of his life. When 
 she asked why he lived alone, and did not 
 marry? he gave her the answer Socrates 
 made to the same question, ^' Whether a man 
 should choose a wife or not he would repent 
 it." Then his opinions on religion puzzled 
 her. AYhen any person was censured for this 
 or that obliquity — a common enough occur- 
 rence — Raven merely smiled. If the name of 
 some heretic was mentioned, he did not ob- 
 serve the customary homage which devout 
 people pay religion. — He neither groaned nor 
 sighed, nor shook his head, nor raised his eyes 
 towards the ceiling. In controversial disputes 
 he never could be got to take part — and 
 although Meriel would not believe it of him, 
 (his conduct, she thought, was more christian- 
 like than those who did so), many averred he 
 was an Atheist. Once she put the question to 
 him, ''Was he one or not?" Strange to relate 
 he merely smiled as usual, and answered ''No." 
 ^' This calmness," Meriel would say to herself.
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 281 
 
 " does not come of indiiference to these sub- 
 jects, nor from natural apathy. By nature 
 he is an enthusiast — but he controls himself 
 with a rod of iron. He is full of sensibility 
 and affection. Yet why does he not marry ? 
 why live in that dreary place ? — alone, too ! — 
 I would give worlds to steal his secret, and to 
 learn to be a more useful friend to him ! " 
 
 One day, not very long after the adventure 
 on the lake at Wyldeacre, she was walking 
 across the meadows on her way to the village, 
 when Raven met her. She was a little startled 
 at seeing him, for at the moment he was not 
 the immediate object of her reflections. Per- 
 haps Raven guessed as much, and may be 
 the slight blush which his sudden appearance 
 elicited helped him to guess even more. We 
 subjoin some of the conversation which passed 
 between them — not that it gives a very tangible 
 clue to his surmises, whatever they might have 
 been — ^for he was in a most determined fit of 
 vagueness — but that it may serve to instance
 
 282 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 his manner with Meriel, and, what is of greater 
 importance, lead to the particular consequence 
 which Meriel was turning in her mind as she 
 sauntered through the fields. No matter how 
 the dialogue commenced. — 
 
 ^^ I wish" replied Meriel to Eaven's last 
 sentence, ^^you would try to remember that I 
 have but one complete set of senses. You 
 stare at vacancy, and mutter what may be 
 comprehensible to the winds. — To me the 
 milky way is not more nebulous than you are 
 obscure. Yes, you stare, but 'tis quite true." 
 
 ^' See here " said Raven, stooping to turn 
 over a large stone, and speaking as though 
 without reference to her rebuke, ^'how pale 
 and feeble the herbage is in that spot. How 
 these attenuated blades have crawled under 
 the crushing weight to get out and up at the 
 edges." 
 
 ^'WeU?" 
 
 '' But yon fierce rays will riddle those heavy 
 clouds by-and-bye."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 283 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " The same tale is told to the highest ends 
 of this world's creation. Poet, orator, painter, 
 sculptor, acknowledge the universal law. 
 The end of Art is to fulfil the peremptory 
 decrees of Nature, the strong heave oiF the 
 crushing rock, — make darkness light, and so 
 assert their aim ; the weak pine and struggle 
 as these grass blades do, to obey the majesty 
 of their instinct, but perish because too power- 
 less to obey it. And yet you blame me Meriel, 
 because I find utterance a difficulty." 
 
 " If your thoughts were simpler, simple 
 words would suit them, and both would 
 better suit a simple listener." 
 
 " Are you such a one ? " 
 
 " Unless I talk and listen too ; but now I 
 want to listen only." 
 
 "To what?" 
 
 " To what you'll please to tell me." 
 u Of? " 
 
 " Of yourself, most certainly ! '^
 
 284 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 " If I speak not already enough on that 
 score, I am surprised." 
 
 '' How so ? " 
 
 ^' Since there is nothing I love and hate so 
 constantly." 
 
 ^^ Strange constancy — loving and hating in 
 a breath." 
 
 ^' There is no better in the best of us." 
 
 ^^ Come," said Meriel, taking Kaven's hand 
 and leading him to the banks of a clear stream 
 which meandered through the field they 
 walked m. You told me once to study botany 
 that I might teach it you; there should be 
 near this bend a valineria; see, there it grows, 
 wending in mid stream with graceful restless- 
 ness. Upon the shallow beneath the ftnther 
 bank, you see another, fastened by a shorter 
 stem. Each woos the other — an amorous 
 pair — ^kept long asunder by cold-blooded 
 Spring. Till summer comes these faithful 
 Naiads shall strain their fretted heart-strings, 
 but all in vain. At last this one shall shed his
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 285 
 
 blossoms, and leaving tlie gentle current to waft 
 them to his mistress, he slowly pines and dies." 
 
 " Love is fidl of pretty fancies," mused 
 Eaven. 
 
 " Kealities," suggested ^leriel. 
 
 " Fancies — fancies !" returned the other, 
 turning, almost fiercely, upon his companion, 
 ^^aye fancies, I say, and the prettier the 
 deadlier. Shall I tell you something of love 
 which yet you have not dreamt of? Straining 
 heart-strings, that will not crack, forsooth ! 
 Yes ; the more love craves, the less can it 
 command. The sweeter its hopes the bitterer 
 its disappointments. Where most it confides 
 in its own powers, there most it finds its 
 impotency. Would you witness the most 
 passionate grief — the most sullen despair — 
 seek them in the lover's breast. W^ould you 
 know where remorse — where hatred — where 
 poisonous jealousy have deepest fixed their 
 fangs — wherever fancy has misled the lover, 
 go, seek them there ! Unless it take Earth for
 
 286 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 Earth its heavens are turned to hells — and 
 if there be no such fancy, alas 1 there is no 
 love. Orphans it begets to starve on winter's 
 ice. Husbands and wives it rends apart as 
 lightening rives bark from oak trees. Chil- 
 dren it teaches to deceive, and then to curse 
 their parents. And multitudes it goads to 
 such excesses, that they will brave all misery 
 hereafter, to escape from that they suffer 
 here !" 
 
 " This is the portrait of a passion whose 
 violence takes from it every claim to the gentle 
 name of love,'' said Meriel. '' True love craves 
 not immoderately its own pleasure so much as it 
 desires another's happiness. Its boast is not 
 in its power to do, but in its patience to 
 endure. All passion unrestrained must pay 
 its penalty. But give not the sweet name of 
 love to fierce, unconquered appetites. These 
 make our nobler natures meaner than the poor 
 brutes', whose instincts impel them blindly 
 to a special aim, while men- have souls to — "
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 287 
 
 " Make their passions fiendish !" 
 
 " But when you speak of vices — and to the 
 hideous list you've read there needs no adding 
 — take the pangs that owe their bitterness to 
 crime, and add to these all other pangs that 
 owe their keenness to our natural state. 
 None are bearable without, all are mitigated 
 by love.'' 
 
 Kaven was about to reply, but he observed 
 Lady Fitzjohn coming forward to meet them — 
 so, pleading some business call, he left the 
 ladies to their own pursuits. 
 
 " Well Merrie !" began the elder of the 
 two, " has Mr. Raven been making himself 
 agreeable ?" 
 
 " Very, Goody. He is seldom otherwise." 
 
 ^^What did he talk about?" 
 
 ^* Clouds and water weeds." 
 
 " And what else, dear ?" 
 
 ^^ Well, I'm a little confused ; I don't re- 
 member."
 
 288 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^^ Ahem !" coughed Goody, ^' Poor man ! 
 he is very unsettled, I think." 
 
 '^ Not more so than ever," said Meriel." 
 " No ? I am surprised you should not 
 remark it. But he certainly is altered since 
 his return. I can't help thinking he has 
 something on his mind." 
 
 " A good many somethings, I should say." 
 " Ah, but I suspect — indeed, between our- 
 selves, Merrie, I feel pretty sure he has some- 
 thing particular on his mind. Did it never 
 strike you that he might be in love." 
 '^ It never struck him, I think !" 
 " No ? well, that's very odd ! Didn't he 
 talk about — that is, didn't he make any allu- 
 sions to the subject while he walked with 
 
 you?" 
 
 '^ About love? Oh yes, he said a great deal 
 about it." 
 
 " Ah ! come, I thought so ; and what did 
 he say, dear?"
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 289 
 
 "He said love was the greatest nonsense, 
 the greatest mistake in the world. '^ 
 
 *^He surely did not?" 
 
 " He surely did, and meant it too." 
 
 " Men never say what they mean when 
 they are in love themselves." 
 
 " That is exactly the argument he used." 
 
 " Yes, but he is such an honourable, truthful 
 character." 
 
 "To be sure he is, and therefore thought 
 as he spoke." 
 
 " Well, well, when you know the world as 
 well as I do — " 
 
 " I shall see through milestones before they 
 have a hole in them, eh Goody ?" 
 
 " You'll see when a man is in love with 
 you, my dear." 
 
 " In love with me — Raven in love with me ! 
 my darling Goody ! why you must have been 
 taking a nap in your~ arm-chair with your 
 spectacles upside down !" 
 
 " Ah ! say what you will ; but I never saw 
 
 VOL. L u
 
 290 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 lovemakiiig if he is not ; and depend upon it, 
 my dear, that he's one in a thousand, and 
 deserves all the regard you have for him — 
 that's my opinion." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Why you wouldn't have me 
 marry Raven, would you, you silly little 
 woman?'* 
 
 "Why not, my dear? I should have 
 thought he would have been the very man a 
 girl would have fallen in love with. There's 
 Belinda dying of love for him. Either of Lord 
 Mountseer's daughters would give their ears 
 for him ; and I have known others worth the 
 whole bunch of them that really did love him 
 — ^that I have." 
 
 " This is so new an idea to me that I cannot 
 help laughing at it." 
 
 "You may laugh, but wait till you are in love 
 yourself, you will be more serious about it then." 
 
 " How do you know. Goody, I ever mean 
 to fall in love ? I am not at all sure that love 
 is not mere fancy and folly, as Raven says."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 291 
 
 " Well ! you are young enough to learn the 
 contrary. There is no hurry, and perhaps it 
 is better you should be older before you lose 
 your heart, for when once that is gone, good 
 bye to all peace and happiness." 
 
 " Hum ! You think then that I had better 
 not fall in love Goody ? " 
 
 " Well ! if you are not disposed to encou- 
 rage Mr. Raven, you need not think about 
 love at present, dear, for there is nobody else 
 I know who is worthy of you. Allan 
 Derisley you do not like ; Lord Granstein 
 is an amiable and gentleman-like yoimg man 
 — but you say you have no fancy for him 
 either." 
 
 "I hate Mr. Derisley!" 
 
 ^^ Hush ! you must not hate any body, 
 Merrie ! " 
 
 ^^ Well then, I detest him ! and I don't care 
 a fig for Lord Granstein ! " 
 
 " And since there are no other young men 
 whom you'd possibly think of, — I say, my 
 
 u 2
 
 292 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 dear, we need not trouble ourselves about love 
 yet, need we ? '^ 
 
 '^ Not unless love troubles us, certainly. — 
 But, to change the subject — have you seen 
 Belinda lately ? '^ 
 
 "No. I hear she is going to Granstein soon." 
 
 " To Granstein ! Then I suppose Mr. 
 Harrod is asked there too ?" 
 
 " Probably ; though his father told me he 
 had hardly recovered the effects of the boat 
 wreck yet. Poor Fabian ! Pm sure I shall be 
 grateful to him all my life. But he ever was 
 a nice boy, and I am glad to see he is grown 
 up so gentlemanlike and good looking.'^ 
 
 " Yes ; he deserves great credit, especially 
 for the latter.^' 
 
 "I am sure he would not be so handsome if 
 he were not good too, and, certainly, he has 
 the sweetest expression I ever saw." 
 
 " Eeally Goody you are quite eloquent upon 
 the subject. I shall begin to think you have 
 lost your heart soon."
 
 A AVILL AND A WAY. 293 
 
 " I wont say what might not have been the 
 case had I been at your age, my dear ; and if 
 the thing had not been absolutely out of the 
 question, perhaps Miss Meriel would scarcely 
 have thought so indifferently of one who saved 
 her life." 
 
 " Why, after all, no man with the smallest 
 sense of gallantry could have left me to be 
 drowned, without making some effort to save 
 me ; and as to my indifference, I ask you 
 seriously, my dear Goody, can you conceive 
 any circumstances under which I could ever 
 have regarded such a person with anything but 
 indifference ? " 
 
 '^ Any circumstances ! Why what does the 
 girl expect ? Such a person, indeed ! Why 
 if I was your own mother, Fabian Harrod is 
 the very man I should have chosen for your 
 husband, my dear.'' 
 
 ^^My darling Goody!" cried Meriel, turn- 
 ing about and suddenly embracing her 
 astonished companion. — ^^With all my heart
 
 294 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 then I wish you had been my mother. For 
 to tell you a secret which has long tortured 
 me, because I kept it from you," she whis- 
 pered the rest in the little woman's ear, " I 
 love him even more than you do." 
 
 ^^ Love Fabian Harrod ! You love Fabian 
 Harrod ? Impossible ! But you are jesting 
 with me, Meriel." 
 
 '' Alas ! dear Goody, it is too sadly true." 
 
 " My poor child. — Oh, but I intreat you to 
 conquer this unfortunate affection. Dear, 
 dear, what will your father say ! " 
 
 " Goody ! I have confided to you a secret 
 that has been treasured in my inmost heart 
 for a long — ^long time. Now listen to me, 
 nobody is to be made unhappy by my mis- 
 fortune, if it be a misfortune." 
 
 ^^ Oh ! it is most unfortunate." 
 
 ^^ I do not deny it. But it need be unfor- 
 tunate to none beside me, if no others but 
 ourselves know it, and if we only think of it 
 as a thing to be forgotten. I know perfectly
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 295 
 
 how utterly hopeless my love for him must 
 be. But you must not charge me with either 
 guilt or folly, in being now affected as I 
 am. What I feel towards Fabian is the 
 issue of all my past recollections. — As chil- 
 dren, we were playmates. — He went to 
 school, from thence he wi^ote me of every 
 trifling incident, keeping alive in me a little 
 sister's fondness. At college he had no friend 
 more intimate than I, for still we always cor- 
 responded. He went abroad. Could two 
 years make me heartless or unnatural ? No ! 
 I loved him better, was prouder of his friend- 
 ship when he returned. His accomplishments, 
 his advancement, his improved exterior, were 
 observed by me with such emotions as an 
 only brother inspires an only sister with. But 
 to liis eyes perhaps our true relationship began 
 to be revealed. He treated me no longer as 
 a sister, no longer as a child, not that his 
 manner had less of tenderness in it, but that 
 it was more respectftd. The superiority I had
 
 296 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 acknowledged in him, he now first began to 
 bow to in me, consulting my opinions where 
 hitherto I had accepted his dictation. End- 
 less were it dear Goody, to relate all the more 
 trivial ways in which my heart caught from 
 his the sweet malady which soon affected both. 
 Enough for you to know is that I understood 
 his meaning. And when he spoke with sorrow 
 and aversion of the destiny his father had 
 allotted to him — what needed I a plainer de- 
 claration of his true intent ? From that time 
 we never met without embarrassment. But 
 the obstacles apparently insurmountable to a 
 happy result, only served to inflame mine, and, 
 as I fancied, his attachment. More than 
 eighteen months he was absent in America — 
 once only in that period he wrote me a letter 
 which, for ought of secrecy that its contents 
 enjoined, might have been published. What 
 could this imply? a change? or might it be 
 the purposed coldness of his duty? the 
 question vexed me night and day. And when
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 297 
 
 on his return I found him — what he is — wlien 
 I still saw how hateflil to him was his engage- 
 ment to Miss Derisley ; could I banish all 
 hope that some day he might be free. Then 
 came that awful night; and from what passed 
 afterwards, though I even then restrained my 
 gratitude, lest it should give encouragement, 
 I knew too well for my own peace of mind 
 that his was in equal danger." 
 
 Miss Sigismond paused, and Lady Fitzjohn 
 was too much perplexed to utter a sentence in 
 rejoinder. Presently Meriel, seeing the other 
 had no observation to make, went on to cau- 
 tion her friend to keep her secret if she would 
 not be the means of making her very wretched. 
 '* Which ever way Providence shall direct it," 
 she added, '^ that I must and will be prepared 
 for.'^ 
 
 ^^ My dearest Meriel," replied Lady Fitzjohn, 
 " you know you may trust me to do whatever 
 you wish and think best. But before you 
 dwell upon any chance I must tell you what I
 
 298 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 fear will at once destroy hope. Even if Fabian 
 were not engaged to Belinda, and wished to 
 marry you, your father would never give his 
 consent." 
 
 ^^ Indeed! Why so?" 
 
 ^^ From some cause or other — what, I have 
 no conception of — Mr. Sigismond has lately 
 expressed a dislike to Fabian. You know how 
 strong his impressions are. He has always had 
 an unconquerable repugnance to Mr. Harrod, 
 and in addition to all this, unless Mr. Harrod 
 himself consented to the match, as I have often 
 told you my love, the fortune your father will 
 give you would be far too small to admit of 
 your marrying upon that alone." 
 
 '^ Surely if Mr. Harrod — who, in spite of 
 all said against him is a good old gentleman — 
 surely when he finds that Fabian is opposed to 
 the marriage with Belinda, he will not be so 
 cruel as to constrain him against his choice 
 in what concerns the happiness of a life." 
 
 "Do not, I beg of you, prop yourself
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 299 
 
 with false hopes. You may depend on my 
 doing anything in my power to serve your 
 happiness, should a favorable moment arrive ; 
 but my conviction is that the only wise course 
 is to dismiss Fabian from youi' mind. Dear ! 
 dear!" sobbed the little woman, when she 
 could say no more, ^^how I wish this mis- 
 fortune had never happened ! " Nor was it 
 long before Miss Sigismond followed the 
 example of her tender-hearted friend. Blind 
 as old Sigismond was, he remarked when 
 Meriel came in that her eyes seemed very 
 much inflamed ; and considering the informa- 
 tion she had unexpectedly obtained from her 
 confidante it is not to be wondered at if she 
 was extremely wretched for some time.
 
 300 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 Leaving Miss Sigismond to dry her tears, 
 we must direct our attention towards her 
 lover, in following the adventures of whom, 
 we shall unavoidably be led to describe per- 
 sons and scenes which possess but a compara- 
 tively trifling interest to those whose sym- 
 pathy is, we trust, almost absorbed in the 
 fortunes of poor Meriel. But when it is borne 
 in mind that the living world is hke an 
 edifice of stupendous proportions, in which 
 we move as little insects creep about some 
 crevice of a mighty mansion, capable only of 
 distinguishing bricks from mortar, and these at 
 most from corner-stones ; we must remark how 
 still like the insects, impotent to comprehend
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 301 
 
 what these may be to the whole, and less — 
 what to them — we are mixed up with persons 
 whose relationship, or consequence to us, re- 
 mains inscrutable, sometimes for long, some- 
 times for life ; but who, the thoughtless only- 
 will suppose, step into our path without 
 causing both us and themselves to deviate 
 much or little for a worse or a better 
 course. 
 
 By a natural coincidence it came to pass, 
 that about the same hour in which Meriel was 
 making her confession to Lady Fitzjohn, 
 Fabian, in pursuance of the resolutions he 
 had previously formed, was similarly engaged 
 with his father. 
 
 Mr. Harrod^s sympathy was naturally of a 
 more manly, and some would call it more 
 sensible character than Lady Fitzjohn's. With 
 respect to sympathy Mr. Harrod took this 
 view. There are two tests by which sympathy 
 should be tried. First, by its eifect upon 
 self; it being the duty of every human being,
 
 302 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 and one he religiously observes, to consider 
 self before any other object in the world. 
 Secondly and lastly, for that is the last thing 
 that need trouble any one's head, how it affects 
 other people. " Let no one," he would say, 
 " encourage any kind of sympathy which will 
 not stand these tests. For if the mind 
 be so reduced by considerations for other 
 people as to lose sight of its own interests, 
 the object of sympathy is doubly frustrated. 
 Imprimis, its owner derives no advantage 
 from it whatever. Secondly, he can confer 
 none, because where the calamities he would 
 mitigate only make him a fellow-sufferer, the 
 soundness of his judgment must be biassed by 
 the weakness of his affection." 
 
 Fabian was not ignorant of his father's 
 character, for notwithstanding the skilful way 
 in which that gentleman deceived his neigh- 
 bors, to do him justice he generally preferred 
 dealing plainly with his own son. Prepared 
 for relentless obstinacy, and a total rejection
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 303 
 
 on the part of his parent, yet unshaken in the 
 resolve which wami passion had forced him 
 into, Fabian chose the moment for avowing 
 himself when his father and he were on their 
 way to join the party at Carrol. Mr. Harrod 
 was not surprised at what his son told him. 
 But he was very much surprised, or pretended 
 to be so, that his son should presume to tell 
 it. With a young man of inferior understand- 
 ing to Fabian, or of a less determined spirit, 
 Harrod would have resorted to an outburst of 
 temper. With Fabian he knew this would 
 not serve his purpose, and since his intention 
 was to carry his point he kept his temper, 
 although it was a bad one. Having listened 
 to the history of love, which was as near 
 as can be, a paraphrase of Miss Sigismond's, 
 with the exception of certain extravagant 
 marks of admiration for her character and 
 person, which were more appropriate in his 
 mouth than similar ones would have been in 
 hers, Mr. Harrod observed, that " all he
 
 304 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 now heard might be perfectly true ; but even 
 if Miss Sigismond possessed such charms — for 
 his part he thought her personal attractions 
 had blinded Fabian to her real character — 
 these were not the least worth considering, 
 as his whole fortune, if he mamed her, would 
 scarcely pay his tailor's bill." 
 
 Fabian replied that he knew he should be 
 greatly dependent on his father s bounty, but 
 trusted this would not be withheld from him, 
 because he had not placed his affections where 
 it was intended that he should." 
 
 To this Mr. Harrod very candidly replied, 
 ^' That he had long made up his mind upon that 
 subject ; and not a penny should his son have 
 fi'om him if he married any one but Belinda 
 Derisley. He had his own particular reasons 
 for insisting on this match, and if Fabian chose 
 to oppose his father's interests, to undo the 
 whole labour, and thwart the scheme of his 
 whole life by selfishly and stupidly giving way 
 to a mere boyish whim, he must abide by the
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 305 
 
 consequence, and they certainly would be 
 starvation." 
 
 "Then, sir," replied his son, with more 
 sph'it than prudence, " if my choice must be 
 between wealth without Miss Sigismond, and 
 poverty with her, I readily embrace the latter 
 alternative." 
 
 " This my dear Fabian," said his father care- 
 lessly, " is of course your present decision, every 
 young fellow who has his blood up about a 
 pretty girl would make exactly the same choice. 
 But if you had been married six months you 
 would be as sensible of the folly of this as I am." 
 
 " Do you think then, sir, it would be 
 possible to live a week with such a creatui-e, 
 and not grow more devoted to her every 
 moment of one's existence ? If you are 
 so egregiously ignorant of her character, 
 I no longer wonder you think me foolish. 
 But I am amazed that you can have known 
 her so long, and not have seen — " 
 
 " That she has a beautiful skin, a delicious 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 little figure, a piquant manner, and a perfect 
 foot and ancle." 
 
 ^' Such an estimation of the motives of my 
 admiration for Miss Sigismond does as little 
 credit to yourself as to your son, su\" 
 
 ^^ Pooh, pooh ! boy. There's no harm in't. 
 These charms had the same effect on me once, 
 before I discovered that the fellest Httle devils 
 in creation are often the daintiest morsels to 
 look at ; every young chap is the same — no 
 blame. Six weeks in London or Paris, with a 
 hundred pound in your pocket is the best cure 
 for this infatuation." 
 
 " Well, sir, you will do as you please with 
 your own, but do not deceive yourself with 
 the notion that your decision, or any obstacle 
 in the world, will lessen my devotion to its 
 present object." 
 
 ^^ Come, come ! don't be a fool ! " quoth the 
 father, " you have plenty of brains ; just 
 reflect what the common sense view of the 
 question is. You say you are in love, and
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 307 
 
 fancy you can never be happy, unless you 
 marry this particular girl. In the whole course 
 of our lives we never make so absurd a mistake 
 as this. A whim — a mere whim, I say, so 
 deludes a man in love, that he actually be- 
 lieves wealth, position, independence, power, 
 are all to be despised for the sake of a toy ; 
 which at best can only amuse his idle hours, 
 or gratify his transient appetites. '^ 
 
 " I will not argue with you, sir," said 
 Fabian, '' our feelings on this subject are so 
 discordant they cannot be attuned. I will 
 only say this much, and it involves a meaning 
 at once manly and divine, I love Meriel 
 Sigismond, and while the breath is in my 
 body, I will strive to make her mine.'* 
 
 " And as soon as you succeed, you'll cease 
 to be my heir." 
 
 Throughout the foregoing dialogue, it will 
 be observed that Mr. Harrod preserved great 
 equanimity and good nature, and consider- 
 ing, as he himself remarked, all his interests, 
 
 X 2
 
 308 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 and the scheme of his whole life were at stake, 
 it is at first sight rather singular that he 
 should have been so forbearing. There were, 
 however, reasons for this — one we have stated — 
 the firmness of Fabian's character ; the other, 
 his persuasion that the threat of disinheritance 
 would weigh in proportion to its sincerity. 
 It was in cases of this description that Mr. 
 Harrod erred in judging others by himself. 
 He literally had none of those delusions which 
 he ascribed to lovers ; and what is more, he 
 never had had, for he was utterly incapable 
 of experiencing any of those impulses which 
 prefer generous sentiments and self-sacrificing 
 devotion to the dictates of discretion and the 
 cold wisdom of the world. He loved wealth — 
 not to hoard it — he was no miser, but for the 
 power and other amenities it conferred. Posi- 
 tion he wanted, because being dissatisfied with 
 his moral state, it was absolutely necessary he 
 should have a good social one. In other 
 words, not being on very good terms with his
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 309 
 
 own conscience, he deemed it prudent to be 
 on the best he could with the devil ; so 
 excellent an appreciator himself of the advan- 
 tages which he threatened to take from his son, 
 he had scarcely a fear that that son — whose 
 sense he had seen many proofs of — ^would be 
 such a dolt as not to acknowledge their worth 
 by his obedience in the end. 
 
 On the arrival of Mr. Harrod and Fabian 
 at Carrol they found the same party as 
 heretofore, with the addition only of Raven 
 and Lord Granstein, eldest son of Lord 
 Mount seer. This young nobleman, who was 
 about the same age as Fabian, had studied 
 together with him and Allan Derisley, 
 under the tuition of Mr. Small. He was of a 
 frank, ingenuous disposition, of a manly and 
 dignified demeanor, and possessed a sufficiently 
 well-favored person to please most women, 
 many tailors, and all his valets. 
 
 During their pupillage his lordsliip and 
 young Harrod entered into a bond of friend-
 
 310 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ship, which time and the university did much 
 to cement. Allan Derisley was a year or two 
 older than his fellow-pupils ; and though he 
 joined them in most of the pranks with which 
 they scandalized the county, and alarmed Mr. 
 Small, there was that about him and his 
 pursuits which kept him without the barrier 
 of their confidence. 
 
 This difference, however, did not hinder 
 either of Mr. Small' s pupils from perceiving 
 the peculiarities of that gentleman any more 
 than it caused them to abstain from amusing 
 themselves at his expense. ^Small had, as we 
 observed, taken a very high degree at the uni- 
 versity ; and the years which he had devoted 
 to that end had left him no time to learn what 
 was of any practical use to him in the world. 
 Not that he was after his university career 
 a mere Laputan ; to earn his bread, he taught 
 pupils; but having abilities of the liighest 
 mathematical order, which enabled him to 
 construct problems that perhaps no one save
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 311 
 
 himself could solve, he took no pride in these, 
 but was only vain of those personal and social 
 qualifications which he was entirely deficient 
 in. He was a great stickler for nice points of 
 etiquette, and it was liis ignorance of its laws 
 that provided an inexhaustible fund of enter- 
 tainment to the mischievous propensities of 
 the young gentlemen placed under his tutel- 
 age. At the date of our history he was curate 
 to the Hon. and Eev. Mr. Pilgrim. 
 
 The advent of Fabian at Carrol was a 
 source of much pleasure to Lord Granstein, 
 for this was the first time they had met since 
 the retui-n of the former from his travels ; 
 and despite the cheerless horizon which en- 
 circled the hopes of our enamoured swain, the 
 society of his friend so soon restored him to 
 his native elasticity, that before he had been 
 a day in the house he found himself laughing 
 at, and taking part in, Lord Granstein's pro- 
 ceedings with Mr. Small, as heartily as if the 
 worthy cui'ate had still been their tutor. But
 
 312 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 to whatsoever length these two went,they were 
 always restrained by kindliness from wounding 
 the sensibility of their innocent butt. In fact, 
 their pleasure consisted in his unconsciousness 
 of the humorous figure he presented to them ; 
 and they much oftener laughed with, than 
 they laughed at him. To Allan Derisley's be- 
 haviour this sense of delicacy opposed no 
 check ; and, notwithstanding he was as sensi- 
 tive as gold leaf himself, he never considered 
 Mr. Small's feelings, provided he could place 
 him in a ludicrous position. The occasion 
 of the present party seemed a favorable one 
 for playing off some of his practical jokes ; 
 and since the upshot of a particular one, which 
 at this time eventuated, recoiled upon himself, 
 it may not be uninstructive, as a warning, if 
 we relate it. 
 
 Mr. AUan's father, owing to his obesity 
 and plethoric habit, was inhibited from 
 taking that amount of exercise which is es- 
 sential to all who, as South has it, "place their
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 313 
 
 summiim honum upon theii' trenchers." Had 
 he been half as prudent as he was corpulent, 
 he Avould have discovered how much temper is 
 improved by complying, in a measure, with 
 that necessity to labor, which Providence has 
 so beneficently imposed upon mankind. But 
 although not inclined to draw this inference, 
 the inconvenience attending his sedentary in- 
 dulgence became so great — that being driven 
 by nausea from the only pleasure which was 
 left to him — he did sometimes make an eifort 
 to regain the appetite he had lost by total 
 inaction. For some period after he gave up 
 going out of doors, his custom was to fillip 
 nature by dancing himself up and down on a 
 spring-bottomed chair; but when by degrees 
 the fatigue caused to his arms outweighed in 
 his opinion the benefit conferred on his ab- 
 dominal regions — the chair was resigned for a 
 rocking-horse. In order to make the motion 
 of this wooden hobby the more efiicient, small 
 pieces of w^ood were nailed on the floor, cor-
 
 314 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 duroy fashion ; these gave a restive action to 
 the otherwise inanimate steed. Now, foohsh 
 and puerile as the design was, Mr. Allan pur- 
 posed, through the medium of this rocking- 
 horse, to play off one of his pranks upon Mr. 
 Small. He accordingly extracted the horse- 
 hair tail from the toy, and supplied its place, 
 as well as the apertures of the ears, nostrils, 
 and mouth, with squibs ; the saddle and mane 
 he also adorned with crackers and combusti- 
 bles of every sort. 
 
 In the evening, after dinner, Mr. Small was 
 to be induced, in imitation of the young men, 
 under some plea to be contrived at the mo- 
 ment, to mount the rocking-horse, and when he 
 was secured in the saddle, the fii'eworks were 
 at once to be ignited. The whole matter was 
 prepared with the utmost caution. Fabian 
 and Granstein had both remonstrated, but 
 Allan was inflexible, and the other two at last 
 consented to preserve secrecy and to witness 
 the explosion of the plot. Now, by an un-
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 315 
 
 lucky accident, while it yet wanted some 
 minutes to the sounding of the dressing-bell, 
 Sir Foy, feeling actively inclined, betook him- 
 self to the hall for a little hobby exercise. 
 The season of the year was already advanced, 
 and the dinner-hour being eight o'clock, the 
 room would have been by this time dark, even 
 had the shutters not been closed. With a 
 candle therefore in one hand, the baronet 
 mounted his steed, and taking hold of the 
 reins, which were attached to the floor instead 
 of the horse's head, he set himself a rocking, 
 and enjoyed for some moments the easy 
 motion with much complacency. Presently, 
 however, the nails which' secured one end of 
 the reins started, with the next tug they gave 
 way so suddenly that the jerk lost the 
 
 baronet's balance and threw him on the neck 
 
 • 
 
 of the horse. In an instant the candle which 
 he had been holding, came in conjunction with 
 the fireworks, and since these were in every 
 direction connected by a quick-match, the
 
 316 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 astonished rider was enveloped in a fusilade 
 of sulphureous combustibles ere he had time 
 to make a single exclamation of alarm. It 
 was impossible for him to dismount, for in 
 addition to his inactivity, the blazing, fizzing, 
 * and popping, walled him in on every side. 
 The louder he halloed, the fiercer the fire- 
 works burned; and it soon became more 
 alarming than laughable to behold his swollen 
 and purple features, bursting in an agony of 
 terror, illumined by the dazzling blaze of a 
 hundred crackers. The noise had penetrated 
 to all parts of the house ; and the whole 
 establishment — cooks, kitchenmaids, footmen, 
 and stablemen, with the family themselves at 
 their head, rushed in alarm to witness an 
 exhibition of pyrotechnics that perhaps has 
 never been equalled either at Rome or Vaux- 
 hall. To describe the state of the unhappy 
 victim of this catastrophe, to give his lamenta- 
 tions their piteous and terror-tuned whine, or 
 finally, to set down on paper the hearty curses
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 317 
 
 which, when he recovered, he lavished on 
 every one under his roof, would require that 
 inspiration which highest genius only can 
 command. 
 
 Happily — and the humane will be pleased 
 to hear it — the little baronet sustained no real 
 injury through the wickedly-conceived devices 
 of his son. But the evil intentions of that 
 young man recoiled, unknown to himself, upon 
 his own head. Mr. Harrod, who, in virtue 
 of his admirable shrewdness, possessed the 
 confidence of all in whom he took an interest, 
 speedily informed himself as to the author of 
 the plot. Having joined his mirth with that 
 of Allan, and applauded the motive with a 
 respectable seasoning of caution and gentle 
 reproof by way of showing his interest in the 
 reproved, he lost no time in repairing to tlie 
 bedside of the convalescent baronet, and there 
 with much judicious colouring enlarged upon 
 the reprobate nature of the young man. No- 
 thing could have been more propitious than
 
 318 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 was this opening for undermining the son and 
 heir in the affections of his parent. So suc- 
 cessfully did Mr. Harrod avail himself of it, 
 that Sir Toy was easily won over to take the 
 step which Harrod had so long helped him to ; 
 which was, to settle the whole of his disposable 
 property upon the daughter destined for the 
 bride of Harrod's son. 
 
 It might have been expected that while Sir 
 Foy was confined to his chamber Allan's con- 
 cern for his father's health would have kept 
 him in quiet subjection. The reverse of this 
 was the case ; indeed, the whole household 
 seemed, except from theu^ unusual spirits, to 
 be entirely forgetful of the baronet's absence. 
 Even Lady Derisley was less of a sybarite than 
 she was wont. Mr. Harrod's insidious sneers 
 assumed an air of facetious pleasantry ; and Mr. 
 Small had less peace than ever at the hands of 
 his relentless persecutor. But the ill treat- 
 ment which the worthy curate met with at 
 Allan's hands was not the only, nor by any
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 319 
 
 means the worst, of his misfortunes during the 
 baronet's confinement ; and if I were sure of 
 being pardoned for relating the circumstance 
 alhided to, I could have no more opportune 
 moment for doing so than the present. The 
 truth is, the story involves considerations 
 which have nothing to do with Small ; and 
 while the adventure cannot with the utmost 
 sympathy for the curate be otherwise than 
 slightly comical, its collateral bearings must 
 give rise to reflections which we trust none can 
 ponder over but with the profoundest gravity. 
 
 Assuredly Tragedy and Comedy do walk 
 arm-in-arm through life together, and of all 
 Nature's delineators none are so faithful, none 
 more instructive than Shakespeare and Ho- 
 garth, who, more continually than others, 
 place her two most opposite phases in constant 
 apposition. 
 
 Why then should one insignificant artist 
 render Natiu-e intentionally unnatural to suit
 
 320 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 the demure ignorance of mawkish prudery ? 
 A marriage a-la-mode may spur the hists of the 
 successful rake, but sadly lost without this 
 suggestion is he who peruses vice with plea- 
 sure, and learns from crime no lesson but to 
 accomplish evil with most facility. 
 
 On second thoughts, then, we decide to give 
 publicity to the curate's accident. But 
 second thoughts also advise that it is im- 
 possible to do so in the present chapter 
 without suffering our lover's history to fall 
 inconveniently into arrear. With this we 
 will now proceed, under promise to revert to 
 Small the instant more pressing affairs shall 
 be disposed of. 
 
 It was improbable that one in Fabian's 
 state of mind could continue under the same 
 roof with his most intimate friend, and not 
 desire to lay upon that friend a portion of the 
 burden wliich was growing more intolerable 
 the longer he tried to bear it alone. Fabian
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 321 
 
 kiiew Raven too well to expect one so averse 
 to meddling with other people's business would 
 ever seek his confidence. But as he could 
 not doubt Raven's interest both in himself and 
 in Meriel, he resolved, at length, to make a 
 clean breast, and hoped, in return, to get 
 such counsel as would much profit him to 
 pursue. No event — be it what it might — 
 ever provoked astonishment — at least, its 
 signs — fi'om Raven. He listened, therefore, 
 without §uq)rise, to the other's recital. When 
 Fabian had ended, he said, ^^ So you love 
 Meriel Sigismond ?" 
 
 " I do," Fabian answered. 
 
 "Why do you love her," asked Raven. 
 
 " Why," echoed Fabian, laughing, " how 
 can I tell ? " 
 
 " Not know why you love her ! No wonder 
 Mr. HaiTod thhiks you unreasonable." 
 
 " Zounds ! if I love her, what the deuce 
 does it signify why I love her?" 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 " Only that sometimes results a little 
 depend upon their causes." 
 
 ^^ Yet, if I knock you down, I don^t see 
 what difference it makes to either of us 
 whether or not I understand dynamics." 
 
 ^' So you see no qualities in your love, that 
 mark her from the common herd ? " 
 
 ^^ Qualities? There never was a woman 
 like her." 
 
 ^^Ah! I see. Well?" 
 
 *^Well? she's perfection! what more do 
 you want ? " 
 
 " Imperfection — to make a woman of her." 
 
 ^' Thank ye ! I can make shift without it. 
 She's the darlingest little creature in the 
 universe." 
 
 " ^ As the lily among thorns, so is my love 
 among the daughters.' I wonder how many of 
 Adam's sons have had that bit of wisdom by 
 heart?" 
 
 " Well ! all the roses that ever blowed, 
 wont rob mine of its sweetness."
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 323 
 
 *^ If there come no other robbers in the 
 way, * give God thanks, and make no boast of 
 it.' But can you not mark her qualities? 
 Want of discrimination is a fecund want ; 
 mated with its oversights, it breeds many 
 little ones. Some flowers, you know, catch 
 honey-suckers in their gaudy cups. And on 
 the blossom of the carrion-plant the silly flesh- 
 fly lays its unprovided egg.*' 
 
 " A sweet simile ! I do confess." 
 
 *^ The thing 'twas likened to might prove 
 less sweet. But come ! you don't describe 
 her." 
 
 " Oh, she'd put out description, as the sun 
 puts out the stars. But enough of this, give 
 me your advice." 
 
 *' Shall I paint the portrait for you ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, if you will but be in a hiuTy, 
 or she'll outgrow the likeness before you put 
 it on her." 
 
 " There is no poet's fancy in it, but some- 
 how so it runs : Nothing studied, nothing 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 accidental — secret, but not mysterious — never 
 so lost in imagination, as to lose sight of par- 
 ticulars — possessed of great penetration, but 
 not prying — reserved and undemonstrative, 
 but not prudish — warmly mterested, but never 
 officious, never supine, never fidgetty — some- 
 what majestic in manner, she ensures respect 
 — playful, soft, and full of nature, she wins 
 affection — in intimacy you are drawn ever 
 nearer to her, but you feel there is a limit to 
 your approach, and however severe the 
 restraint she imposes upon another, it is 
 still severer upon herself — with all, she is a 
 real woman, and never more piquante than in 
 her caprices." 
 
 ^^ Admirable ! upon my honor. This is 
 Meriel to a shade." 
 
 ^^Why, so it is; and this is the love of 
 every man of taste and sensibility. I had it 
 from an old French humouiist who lived two 
 hundred years ago, I whipped off its national 
 costume and have worn it as a talisman these
 
 A WILL AND A AVAY. 825 
 
 ten years or more. Be her name Jezel)el or 
 Mary, if she he loved, this dress will fit 
 her. Now mark yon — it is what the cameleoii 
 looks on that lends him complexion, what man 
 looks on that borrows his. The sphere each 
 lives in has its peculiar tinge. To angels all 
 is brightened by the light of heaven ; devils' 
 visions are made hideous by the red-hot 
 passions that sear their eyes. A lover gives 
 an apothesis to the image of his brain, and 
 upbraids heaven with want of mercy, because 
 Miss That or T'other remains herself in spite of 
 sacred matrimony ! You want to marry 
 her?" 
 
 *^ It is the only want I have on earth." 
 "A very sufficient one, however, as some 
 have proved before you?" 
 
 *' What ! who wanted to marry her ? " 
 ^^Ay! her, why not? or others like her. 
 But tell me, does she love you ? " 
 
 " No man loves unless he has some cause to 
 think himself beloved ; I may be deceived."
 
 326 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 ^^ You mean you may deceive youi^self. 
 Well, if she love you and is constant, never 
 fear for the rest/' 
 
 " She may love me, but opposition and 
 the sense of duty may overcome her con 
 stancy. I don't know what to think of it 
 — which do you think most constant, men or 
 women r | 
 
 ^^ Neither." 
 
 " How neither ? " 
 
 " Why men have most before — women most 
 constancy after marriage." 
 
 " Then you think Meriel may prove false?" 
 
 "Nay! I'll not be the raven to traduce 
 your Coronis. I dare guess Meriel will be true 
 to you." 
 
 " But how long ? that's the question." 
 
 " Till she finds some one she likes better." 
 
 " Oh ! you mock me." 
 
 " Unless I speak truth ; then she will mock 
 
 you." 
 
 " Confound your twitting humours ! you
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 327 
 
 would torture me with the pangs of Jis- 
 appointment before I lose her." 
 
 " Before you win her rather. But if 
 you apprehend the loss, you'll save yourself 
 much pain by forgettmg her at once. He 
 who builds his hopes of happiness upon the 
 possession of one woman risks all Ufe is 
 worth for a bubble that bursts at the 
 touching." 
 
 '^ Kella guerra (Tamor die fuge vince. 
 I'm obliged for your council, but by your 
 leave, I'd as soon be sorry all my life as take 
 it." 
 
 *^ So be it then — no man's experience is 
 ' another man's wisdom. I see you deserve 
 her — or sorrow. Now what would you have 
 me do?" 
 
 ^^Tell me what you would have me do. My 
 father threatens to disinlierit me. If l)y tliis 
 I lose no more than his estates, my mind is 
 resolved upon the sacrifice. But Meriel is also 
 without foitune, and to entail upon her the
 
 328 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 struggles of poverty, were the basest selfish- 
 ness on my part." 
 
 " If you have already won her affections, 
 as it appears you have ; this generous senti- 
 ment comes a little late — you should have 
 thought of her convenience before." 
 
 '^ Alas ! I never supposed my father would 
 adhere so cruelly to his own plan of disposing 
 of me, body and heart, as he does. And 
 indeed, I could have almost schooled myself 
 to obedience, had not circumstances since my 
 return to England, convinced me that I was 
 not an object of indifference to Meriel." 
 
 ^^ Ay, that's it, somebody is always to blame 
 when we have done wrong. I cannot advise 
 you." 
 
 ^^ No ! this is unkind, Eaven, I thought in 
 such a difficulty I might rely upon your friend- 
 ship. But — " 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 "Oh! nothing." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!"
 
 A WILL AND A WAV. 329 
 
 ^' Pray laugh if it amuses you. The mis- 
 fortunes of a friend are apt subject of merri- 
 ment to a man of wit and taste." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! This is better and better. 
 Nay, don't go my dear boy, I never saw you 
 offended imtil now. Pray do not rob me of 
 so novel a scene — come, come, give me your 
 hand. So now, look how preposterously un- 
 reasonable you are. You set before me an 
 A, B, C, case, as thus : — ' I have travelled 
 such a road, and I come to a branch road ; I 
 am determined not to turn back; but which 
 ever way I advance, obstacles lie in the path ; 
 I have made up my mind to go to the left — 
 now if you won't give me youi^ advice, you 
 are a beast.' I warn you of the difficulties, 
 and suggest a retreat, you scorn the sugges- 
 tion, good. I tell you if you go this way, 
 you brave the fears of disappointment — if the 
 other you threaten Mericl with the worst 
 consequences of success. To all this you
 
 330 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 reply, ' She loves me ; I will win her — or 
 I will die. Prythee, friend, what shall I 
 do ? ' If you will marry her in spite of spite, 
 and she love you to boot, you are past advice, 
 and independent of assistance. If you ask 
 me to lead your conscience in the matter, 
 I well know you will not accept my guid- 
 ance." 
 
 " That depends on what it leads to ?" 
 " Leave Meriel, and never return to see her 
 till you have earned enough fortune to main- 
 tain you both." 
 
 ^^ Humph! there's something in that mix- 
 ture plaguily relaxing. The thoughts of ten 
 years in India, turn my liver into leather, 
 and half that time in the city, would convert 
 me into a smoke-jack. Besides, I should 
 return to find Meriel in false fronts, and 
 changed from a blooming plum into a 
 shrivelled walnut. I'll none of this — no, no, 
 upon my head be the consequences. I must
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 331 
 
 marry her, and all I ask of you, is to give 
 what help you can." 
 
 When Kaven was alone — " He must marry 
 her, and I am to give him all the help I can ! " 
 he repeated. It was evident — for he paced 
 the room with mieven steps — that this idea was 
 working within him like yeast. Gradually, as 
 the fermentation heightened, the troubled 
 spuit began to overflow. Its course was by 
 no means transparent, but most turbid, as 
 some may presently consider. Eelevant or 
 iiTelevant however, we transcribe his mutter- 
 ings without a paraphrase. Thus they began. 
 
 " Sweet and Bitter are the soul's two wings, 
 and Experience is to us what Daedalus was to 
 Icarus. But, like Icarus, we fall for all oui' 
 wings. From design to accomplishment is the 
 path we'd make. But the way is long, for 
 it is all the way from suflPering to peace ; 
 the way is longer than life, for strugglers 
 remain strugglers to the end. Does not 
 every Alexander sigh fur more worlds to
 
 3o2 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 conquer? And though Master of all Arts, 
 and Cham of all the Tartaries, the unrest 
 which leavened his youth, accelerates what 
 little pulse is left to him. Each unwearying 
 one learns from his last won prize, that out- 
 ward evidences are in themselves unmeaning. 
 The thing is not the motive, though it allure 
 him to the act. Lions roar for prey — but 
 when the prey is chymified, they roar again. 
 And brine may as well be drunk as the sweet 
 waters of success, to quench a thirst they do 
 but madden. Oh ! had we all we craved, 
 we then should crave to be without that all. 
 Still unpossessed of all — our possessions are 
 heeded as our skins are, only when they're 
 torn from off us, making us no happier in 
 their completeness, for craving is still our 
 constant bent. Some think great men are 
 satisfied with greatness. It is not so — they 
 take their places as little men take theu^s. 
 Eagles cannot roost on twigs — and mountain 
 peaks are vulgar in their eyes, as house-eves
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 383 
 
 to the sparrow. One problem, the greatest, 
 would yet give all to solve. What, and 
 Avhere is the U nfound ? 
 
 ^^ Does any count his suiFerings, and take 
 note of them? Let him reflect. Humanity, to 
 its utmost limits, is cii'cumscribed within the 
 pale of some half dozen senses. Who'll 
 pretend the mean condition of mankind does 
 not involve extremes ? Who that the whole 
 range of the diameter has not been paced 
 by millions ? Millions ! yes, there's something 
 in the contemplation of so vast a host and 
 of all their groans, reaching from the depths 
 of hell to the highest range in heaven, that 
 
 should cast that devil Self from out us. 
 
 * * ^ * * 
 
 ^' I will help Fabian to marry Meriel."
 
 334 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 It was very well for Fabian that he enlisted 
 so active a friend as Eaven on his side ; for 
 although neither of them could foresee what 
 advantage could possibly be derived from the 
 adherence of any person not a principal to 
 the cause, so adverse were the Fates, from 
 -this time forth, to the advancement of the 
 young lover's hopes, that a single friend grew 
 to be invaluable, if only from his readiness to 
 become the depository of the other's misfor- 
 tunes. There was, however, one material 
 way in which Eaven managed to help his 
 friend during their stay at Carrol Hall. He 
 most effectually relieved Fabian of the neces- 
 sity of shewing his indifference to Miss
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 335 
 
 Belinda. But for Raven the task would 
 have been not only painful, but extremely 
 difficult ; for dii^ectly Sir Foy was well 
 enough to return to the bosom of his family 
 he made it his special concern to further Mr. 
 Harrod's Welshes by promoting at all seasons 
 the courtship of the betrothed pair. Nor did 
 the baronet lose an opportunity of encouraging 
 Fabian by the assurance of his (Sir Foy's) 
 goodwill. Once he did this in a manner not 
 quite so gratifying to Mr. Harrod senior as 
 was intended. Sir Foy thanked Fabian, in 
 full audience, for the presents which the 
 young man had promised, in his letter from 
 Mexico, and hinted that it would give him 
 much pleasure to see them arranged in his 
 collection of curiosities. Upon, mention of 
 this promise, Fabian looked to his father for 
 explanation. Mr. Harrod, was, however, 
 so busily engaged at the moment, he obtained 
 no help from that quarter. In fine, after 
 hemming and hawing, he plumply confessed
 
 336 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 he had not brought home a single memento 
 of any kind ; and indeed had forgotten that 
 he had made any such promise in his 
 letter. 
 
 "What!" cried his father — who was too 
 great an adept at lying to lack half a dozen 
 bouncers at a pinch — '^ you forget all you 
 said about serapes to cover Sir Toy's feet in 
 the winter time ! Perhaps you'll forget next 
 how you begged me to lose not a day in 
 congratulating him on his fi^eedom from gout ; 
 and a score of messages beside." 
 
 " Well," said Fabian, " I've a pretty fair 
 memory, but I own these passages have slipped 
 out of it without leaving a trace." 
 
 " Ah !" cried Mr. Harrod to Sir Toy, 
 " these young fellows are always ashamed of 
 their better feelings. As to the serapes, I'll 
 be bound for it he's keeping them for wedding 
 presents to Miss Belinda." 
 
 Raven, who was greatly edified by this 
 instance of Mr. Harrod's ingenuity, which he
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 337 
 
 at once saw through, couhi not forbear quo- 
 ting— 
 
 Where the beams of warm imagination play, 
 The memory's soft figures melt away. 
 
 And although he pretended to be rallying 
 Fabian, Mr. Harrod well understood that the 
 sarcasm was aimed at him. A retort was 
 out of the question. The notion, however, of 
 Fabian's keeping the presents for Belinda 
 quite satisfied Sir Foy. He now began to say 
 all kinds of things by way of setting on the 
 supposed lovers. It was in cases of this des- 
 cription that Eaven saved his friend annoyance. 
 He would always step up to Miss Derisley, 
 and, by allowing her to suppose that he 
 himself was not insensible to the charais 
 which she was ever sighing to make conquests 
 by, he would easily soothe her piqued vanity, 
 and so prevent the heroic ah's she would 
 otherwise have put on to obtain from Fabian 
 the homage whicli she conceived to be her 
 due. In point of fact, it was not of much 
 VOL. L Z
 
 338 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 consequence to Miss Belinda of whom she 
 made a conquest. The first gentleman that 
 came uppermost was fittest for the place. All 
 fitted in turn, and to each — such was her tact 
 and the versatility of her talent — she adapted 
 her conversation according to his particular 
 character. With Lord Granstein her blan- 
 dishments were interwoven with enthusiastic 
 encomiums on such subjects of interest as 
 shooting, hunting, opera-dancing, &c. To 
 Mr. Pilgrim her tenderness vented itself in 
 groanings over the sins of a wicked world. 
 Her endearments to Small generally assumed 
 a mathematical turn : and as to Raven — not 
 being able to fathom his idiosyncracy — she 
 practised upon him an empirical course of 
 flirtation, which varied in its treatment 
 according to whatsoever direction it pleased 
 his humour to give it. Which of these as- 
 pirants had the best pretension to the largest 
 share of her capacious heart we are not so 
 rash as even to conjecture; nor do I think
 
 A WILL AND A WAY. 339 
 
 any of them ran much risk of enthralment, 
 except Small, who, as the fable has it, was a 
 vrai mouton de sacrifice, for though up 
 to his spectacles m love with Belinda, he 
 was the particular one she entirely overlooked 
 when any of the others were at hand — and 
 not Palamon nor Arcite, nor any hero of 
 ancient or modern romance, ever suffered 
 more pangs from jealousy than did this 
 reverend gentleman when his rivals were in 
 the way. Oh, Small ! excellent Small I what 
 a position is it for man or woman to be in, 
 when — as a friend once said to me — the 
 reciprocity is all on one side ; what antics our 
 most solemn, most earnest feelings do put us 
 through ! Get thee to the dazzling assemblies 
 of gay-faced fashion, and watch the manners 
 of the man whose glistening eye and ash- 
 coloured features speak of the passion which 
 gnaws within his vitals. Not for an instant 
 does he remit his intensely lynx-eyed vigilance. 
 Every sense is concentrated in one object.
 
 340 A WILL AND A WAY. 
 
 What she smiles upon he glares at; and 
 beneath her delicately-satined feet he would 
 cast his very soul to be trampled on — she, 
 perchance, unconscious as Astarte's statue of 
 the worship. But over yonder, another 
 watches the fanatical devotee. Her very lips 
 have lost theu^ colour, and quiver with the 
 unmeanmg responses forced out to hide her 
 trouble fi'om a bevy of surrounding suitors. 
 He — the one, the only one in all the world 
 to her — is already trampling on her soul! 
 Oh, Small ! excellent Small ! these are antics ; 
 but what philosopher can smile at them 
 without a bleeding heart ? 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 R. BORN, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, CAMDEN TOWN.
 
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 LODGE'S PEERAGE AND BARONETAGE 
 
 LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL CONTENTS. 
 
 Historical View of the Peerage. 
 Parliamentary Roll of the House of 
 
 Lords. 
 English, Scotch, and Irish Peers, in 
 
 their orders of Precedence. 
 Alphabetical List of Peers of Great 
 
 Britain and the United Kingdom, 
 
 holding superior rank in the Scotch 
 
 or Irish Peerage. 
 Alphabetical List of Scotch and Irish 
 
 Peers, holding superior titles in the 
 
 Peerage of Great Britain and the 
 
 United Kingdom. 
 A Collective List of Peers, in their 
 
 order of Pre edence. 
 Table of Precedency among Men. 
 Table of Precedency among Women. 
 The Queen and Royal Family. 
 The House of Saxe Coburg-Gotha. 
 Peers of the Blood Royal. 
 The Peerage, alphabetically arranged. 
 Families of such Extinct Peers as have 
 
 left Widows or Issue. 
 Alphabetical List of the Surname* of 
 
 all the Peers. 
 
 Account of the Archbishops and 
 Bishops of England, Ireland, and 
 the Colonies. 
 
 The Baronetage, alphabetically ar- 
 ranged. 
 
 Alphabetical List of Surnames as- 
 sumed by members of Noble 
 Families. 
 
 Alphabetical List of the Second 
 Titles of Peers, usually borne by 
 their Eldest Sons. 
 
 Alphabetical Index to the Daughters 
 of Dukes, Marquises, and Earls, 
 who, having married Commoners, 
 retain the title of Lady before their 
 own Christian and their Husbands' 
 Surnames. 
 
 Alphabetical Index to the Daugh- 
 ters of Viscounts and Barons, who, 
 having married Commoners, are 
 styled Honourable Mrs ; and, in case 
 of the husband being a Baronet or 
 Knight, Honourable Lady. 
 
 Mottoes alphabetically arranged and 
 translated. 
 
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 •' Lodge's Peerage must supersede all other works of the kind, for two reasons; first, it ia 
 on a better plan; and, secondly, it ia better executed. We can safely pronounce it to be the 
 readiest, the most useful, and exactest of modern works on the subject," — Spectator. 
 
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 excellent."— Literary Gazette. 
 
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 mation which it contains, derived from oflBcial sources exclusively at the command of the 
 author, is of importance to most classes of the community; to the antiquary it must be 
 invaluable, for implicit reliance may be placed on its contents." — Globe. 
 
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 graphy of Illustrious Personages stands an unrivalled specimen of historical literature, and 
 magnificent illustration. Of Mr, Lodge's talent for the task he has undertaken, we need 
 only appeal to his former productions. It contains the exact state of the Peerage as it now 
 exists, with all the Collateral Branches, their Children, with all the Marriages of the different 
 individuals connected with each family." — John Bull. 
 
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