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 LI B RAHY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 623 
 v.l J
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/jackscourtshipsa01russ
 
 JACK'S COURTSHIP 
 
 A SAILOR'S YARN OF LOVE AND 
 SHIPWRECK. 
 
 BY 
 
 W. CLAEK EUSSELL, 
 
 AETH02 OF " m ' LABI MACTV " " A .SEA QCEEX," ETC. 
 
 IN TEHEE VOL CUES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SAMPSON LOW, MAKSTOX, SEAELB & EIYINGTOX, 
 
 CBOWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1884. 
 
 (All rights reserved.')
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY TYILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 3 
 
 R1 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 IAPTBB I'A'.K 
 
 I. A Short Preface ... ... ... ... 1 
 
 II. My Uncle Seymour ... ... ... 9 
 
 III. I go to Clifton ... ... ... ... 23 
 
 IV. Some Sacred Music ... ... ... 49 
 
 V. Mr. Alfhonso Hayvke ... ... ... ... 83 
 
 VI. A Little Dinner at Clifton Lodge ... 9G 
 
 VII. Miss Hawke's Instructions ... ... ... 137 
 
 Till. I take Lodgings ... ... ... ... 161 
 
 f 
 
 IX. My Bristol Lodgings ... ... ... ... 190 
 
 X. My Uncle damps my Hopes ... ... 203 
 
 XL I four out my Soul ... ... ... ... 214 
 
 XII. I receive a Visit ... ... ... ... 244 
 
 XIII. Loggings 266 
 
 XIV. I RETURN TO LONDON ... ... ... 292 
 
 ^Jj XV. A Terrible Blow ... ... ... ... 303 
 
 XVI. A Grand Idea 313
 
 JACK'S COURTSHIP 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A SHORT PREFACE. 
 
 Shipmate, have you ever seen such a sight as a 
 dog chasing his tail on a hearthrug or in the sun, 
 in pursuit of a comfortable posture ? Just in that 
 manner have I rotated over this story. Over and 
 over again in my mind have I been turning it, 
 trying to find out how it ought to be told. It is 
 as queer a yarn, in my opinion, as any man ever 
 had to relate; and an artist, I have no doubt, 
 would make a first-rate job of it. But I, who had 
 all that I learnt at school washed out of me at 
 sea, where the Latin grammar, the Greek alphabet, 
 and the like, were jettisoned to make way for a 
 very different sort of intellectual cargo — I say, how 
 should I be expected to know anything about art ? 
 After many mental revolutions I have arrived 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 at this determination — to make a kind of log of 
 it, and to spin the whole yarn as though a com- 
 pany of sailors were sitting round me, pipes in 
 hand, and I was talking to them. The story will 
 go to windward better in that form than in any 
 other ; and as a log-book is the last sort of 
 volume you would look into for elevated writing, 
 and as the mariner's lingo has never been famous 
 for polish and sweetness, so my choice comforts 
 me with the reflection that it will save me the 
 pains of reading through the poets for elegant 
 ideas, and wading through the dictionary for fine 
 words. 
 
 My name is Jack Seymour, and in such-and- 
 such a year I was five-and-twenty years old. 
 Were yarns of this kind embellished with cuts I 
 might save myself a troublesome spell of descrip- 
 tion by handing the printers a portrait of myself 
 as I was in those days. Five feet ten inches my 
 height was, and though I had knocked off the sea, 
 after seven and a half years of it, in eighteen 
 hundred and something odd, old ocean had left 
 such an impress on me that I looked as much a 
 sailor after three years of shore-going life as ever 
 I did in the jumper of an apprentice riding down 
 a topgallant stay, or in the blue serge or pilot- 
 cloth of a second mate, stumping the weather-side 
 of the quarter-deck. 
 
 It takes a sailor a long time to straighten his
 
 A SHORT PREFACE. 3 
 
 spine and get quit of the bold sheer that earns 
 him the name of shell-back. That is not all. 
 Lobscouse eats into the system ; salt-horse works 
 out of the pores and contributes to that complexion 
 of mahogany which is often mistakenly attributed 
 ^o rum and weather ; and I have been shipmates 
 with a man who grew white-haired at thirty on 
 soup and bully. 
 
 Why will mammas let their little boys go to 
 sea ? It is not only that it is the hardest life in 
 the world; when once you are a sailor you are 
 always a sailor, and the calling sticks to you as 
 the rings and bracelets do which are pricked upon 
 your wrists and fingers ; so that should you ever 
 happen to fall in love with a girl who does not 
 much care about sailors, but who likes soldiers, 
 and could like you were you a soldier, you are 
 forced in spite of yourself to go on looking like a 
 sailor, though you may have quitted the sea for 
 years, and would enlist to-morrow if the beauty 
 commanded you to do so. 
 
 I ceased to be a nautical man when my father 
 •died. I was then second mate of the vessel in 
 which I took my last voyage, with a chief mate's 
 certificate, and had little doubt of obtaining a 
 chief mate's berth next time. But on my arrival 
 in London from China, after a voyage that had 
 carried me round the world twice, I learnt that 
 my poor father was dead, and had left me all he
 
 4 JACKS COUKTSHIP. 
 
 had, barring his furniture, which he had willed to 
 some relative who lived in the north of England, 
 though I had never heard of her before, and do not 
 even now know in what manner she was connected 
 with my father. 
 
 He died a comparatively poor man, owing to his 
 living up to his earnings as a solicitor ; and all 
 that I stepped into was two hundred and fifty 
 pounds a year — or thereabouts ; between our- 
 selves, I may say it was a few pounds short of 
 that figure. But it was an estate to me who was 
 absolutely alone in the world, being an only child, 
 and my mother having died many years before this 
 story starts. At all events, I reckoned the income 
 — the capital was well invested — large enough to 
 justify me in heaving my profession overboard and 
 setting up for myself as a gentleman ashore. 
 
 Accordingly I hired a furnished bedroom and 
 sitting-room in the West End of London, paid 
 a small subscription, and became member of a 
 little club, which brought me acquainted with a 
 number of very good fellows, so that I had 
 companions enough. And for a year or two this 
 sort of life suited me very well. It was an im- 
 mense escape from the old servitude of the sea; 
 I was my own master, could do what I pleased, go 
 where I liked, was responsible to no man ; and I 
 was never tired of thinking of my liberty and. 
 enjoying it.
 
 A SHORT PREFACE. 5 
 
 But I am bound to say that, as time crept ou, 
 I began to consider that I had no business to be 
 loafing about the West End of London. There 
 was enough money, perhaps, in two hundred and 
 fifty pounds a year — to give the income a square 
 sound — to enable me to take life on the condition 
 of dining for three -and-sixpence, of cheapening the 
 obligation of smoking by a judicious admixture of 
 pipes with cigars, of attending a play or an opera 
 when a ticket for it was given me, and even going 
 to a dance, at long intervals, at some houses which 
 were very hospitably open to me. 
 
 But when two years of this easy, idle life had 
 passed, reflections would steal in. I began to 
 think my income small, and that I should find it 
 smaller as I grew older ; for though a youngster 
 possessed of two hundred and fifty pounds a year 
 may be thought pretty well off, an old or middle- 
 aged man cuts but a poor figure on that sum. No 
 thoughts of marriage had ever entered my head ; 
 not only because I liked being lord of myself, which 
 I certainly found no great heritage of woe (possibly 
 because I never underwent the labour of putting 
 my hair in curl-papers), but because I had never 
 met with any girl I could fall in love with. 
 
 And here let me say that I cannot recall this 
 period of my life without a disposition to drop on 
 my knees and give thanks for my salvation from 
 the fate that too often befalls idle young men on
 
 6 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 small incomes in London and other parts. For 
 I protest that nothing stood between me and a 
 dark destiny in the shape of a ballet-girl or a 
 barmaid, but a tolerable stock of good sense and 
 a natural aversion froni anything vulgar or com- 
 monplace in woman. What hand was there to 
 save me had I chosen to lounge about bars and 
 suck the nob of my stick in dreary intimate confab 
 with the curls, and rouge, and wadding of the 
 restaurant or the public-house ? I don't mean to 
 say that barmaids and ballet-girls, and the like, 
 do not make good wives. I have no doubt they 
 try their best; but what can they do with their 
 vulgarity ? How are they to deal with a certain 
 letter which will recur in conversation like a 
 circumstance over which they have no control? 
 I am thankful for being saved from marrying a 
 lady of this pattern, because I can conceive of no 
 domestic condition more truly frightful than that 
 of having a wife of which one is ashamed, whose 
 conversation in company causes all hands acute 
 suffering, and who is one of the reasons why one's 
 friends pity and despise one. I once sat near a 
 knight, who was also a member of parliament, at 
 a table full of ladies and gentlemen. The knight's 
 wife sat over against us ; she had a kind face, but 
 was a most illiterate woman, yet had been a good 
 match for the knight when he developed from an 
 errand-boy into a porter. He had made his
 
 A SHOKT PREFACE. 7 
 
 fortune, had educated himself, was a great man 
 and a fine man, with a strong voice and an 
 imposing bow ; he was an Irishman, and spoke 
 of "me colleague the mimber for Ballywhack ; " 
 and opposite sat his wife, on whom he had to keep 
 scowling to remind her that she was there on the 
 condition that she did not spake. Who would be 
 in such a position as that Irish knight was? 
 Fancy having to dragon a wife, not for her 
 morals, but lest she should open her mouth and 
 say 'ouse for house, and so forth ! Hence, when 
 I think of my life in London after I gave up the 
 sea down to the time when this yarn properly 
 opens, when I consider the several opportunities 
 afforded me of giving my name to a fifth-rate 
 actress, a music-hall singer, a stout, pale, and 
 golden beauty who drew beer behind a luncheon- 
 bar, and two or three others whose vocations I 
 cannot just now recollect, I declare I am ready to 
 prostrate myself with gratitude over my escape. 
 
 Well, I will say no more about this, and belay 
 any further reference to my growing sensitiveness 
 on the subject of idleness, and the enlarging con- 
 viction that if ever I was to end as a man qualified 
 to enjoy life without perpetually overhauling his 
 purse to see if there were a few shillings in it to 
 spare, I must turn to and discover some method of 
 getting money whilst I was young and my health 
 and spirits good. Enough for the purpose of
 
 8 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 these loggings if I say that in the summer of the 
 year 18 — I found myself at Clifton, near Bristol, 
 the guest of an uncle, of whose existence I had 
 indeed heard, though I had never before set eyes 
 on him, and my meeting with whom was so odd 
 and unexpected that I am bound to tell you the 
 story of it.
 
 ( 9 ) 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MY UNCLE SEYMOUR. 
 
 I was standing at the window of my lodgings, near 
 Begent Street, smoking a cigar and watching the 
 people pass. It was a very hot day; not a dog 
 trotted hy but had half a fathom of tongue hanging 
 from its jaws ; and the heat gave an edge to the 
 peculiar smell of flue and ancient cookery that 
 haunts the atmosphere of every London lodging- 
 house. In short, it was just a day to set a man 
 dreaming of the country, of shady nooks under 
 cool trees crowded with twinkling leaves, bees 
 making a homelike music in the sunshine bej'ond, 
 and a smell of wildflowers around ; or, better still, 
 of the sea-shore, the lip, lipping, and fountain-like 
 seething of the tide on the brown sand, a mild 
 breeze, warm as a woman's breath, blowing across 
 the azure water with enough of strength in it to 
 keep the pools among the rocks trembling. 
 
 Nothing could be pleasanter than such thoughts, 
 and whilst I stood turning them over and resolving 
 in a mechanical sort of way to up keeleg and make
 
 10 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 a stretch for the coast — no matter where — there 
 comes a cab along the street, stoics under my 
 "window, and presently a servant bundles into the 
 room to tell me that a gentleman wishes to see 
 Mr. Seymour. 
 
 He was close behind the girl, and before I could 
 ask his name she stepped aside and he walked in. 
 He looked at me very hard, and said, "Is your 
 name John Sutherland Seymour ? " 
 
 I bowed. 
 
 " Son of Thomas Sutherland Seymour, solicitor 
 of ," naming the address. 
 
 I bowed again, wondering who he was and what 
 his business could be. He was about fifty-five 
 years old — perhaps more — had a strong, reddish 
 beard, heavy eyebrows, and small merry blue eyes. 
 He had spoken my name with a slight Yankee 
 drawl in his voice, but his appearance was that of 
 an Australian — to my fancy at least ; perhaps 
 because when I was in Australia I had seen men 
 go dressed as he was, in blue check shirt and 
 collar, blue serge trowsers, white waistcoat, cloth 
 coat, square-toed boots, and a large, soft, flapping 
 wideawake. 
 
 " John Sutherland Seymour — probably Jack 
 Seymour?" he repeated; and I said, "Yes, sir; 
 Jack Seymour, that's my name." 
 
 " Seymour is my name too," said he. "Can't 
 you guess who I am ? "
 
 MY UNCLE SEYMOUR. 11 
 
 I stared, trying to think. 
 
 "Havel been all my life carrying the family 
 nose about to no purpose?" he cried. "What is 
 the use of the genuine Roman run, the Seymour 
 rise — what sailors would call the kink amidships — 
 if it fails to convict me as a relation ? " And so 
 saying he struck an attitude in profile with his 
 forefinger against his nose. 
 
 "Is it possible that you are my uncle, Charles 
 Seymour ?" I exclaimed. 
 
 " More than possible if you are Tom Seymour's 
 son?" he answered; and coming up to me he 
 grasped me by the hand, nearly shook my arm off, 
 and then, pitching his hat and stick on to a sofa, 
 plumped himself into a chair. 
 
 I welcomed him with as much heartiness as 
 surprise would let me put into my manner, 
 endeavouring meanwhile to recollect what I had 
 heard about him from my father ; how in his youth 
 he had been packed off to sea as a scapegrace ; 
 how he had run away from his ship in some China 
 port, and was heard of five years later as doing 
 pretty well in New York ; how, very much later 
 yet, news of him reached my father from Canada 
 through a gentleman who reported that he was 
 making money fast. He had never written, and 
 had been as dead to his family as if he had fallen 
 overboard and gone to the bottom on his first 
 voyage.
 
 12 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 After a long and very narrow inspection of me, 
 he said, " Yon are not like your dad, Jack ! " 
 
 " No," said I, amused to hear him call me Jack. 
 
 " D'ye see any family likeness in me ?" he asked. 
 
 " More than enough to swear by," I answered. 
 
 He ran his eye over the room, turning his head 
 about so as to command a round view, and coming 
 back to me asked if I was married. 
 
 " No," said I laughing, for there is something in 
 this question that will make a single man laugh. 
 
 "I might guess so. There are no female hints 
 here, and that pipe," says he, nodding towards 
 the mantelpiece, " carries, I calculate, at least six 
 smokes too much in the bowl of it ever to be in the 
 family line. Where does your father live ? " 
 
 "He is dead," I replied. 
 
 "Dead!" he exclaimed. "Dead, d'ye say?" 
 he bent his eyes on the ground and tapped with 
 his foot. " How long has he been dead ? " 
 
 I told him. He continued looking at the floor 
 with a very grieved and disappointed expression in 
 his face, and then, returning to his first manner, 
 said, " I hope he died pretty well off ? " 
 
 " Why, yes," said I. " Pretty well off, but not 
 better than pretty well." 
 
 " Is your mother living ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " So you're alone ? " 
 
 I nodded. He took another look round the
 
 MY UNCLE SEYMOUR. 13 
 
 room, and said, "You have all that my brother 
 Tom left, I presume ? " 
 
 " Pretty nearly all," I answered, tickled by his 
 Yankee curiosity, though he asked his questions 
 with ;so much good nature and sympathy in his 
 voice and manner that it was impossible to resent 
 them. 
 
 " What might that be, sir ? " 
 
 " A trifle short of two hundred and fifty pounds 
 a year." 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed, pulling a chair to him, 
 and resting one leg upon it. " Time was when I 
 reckoned Tom would beat me. He had ten times 
 my brains and fifty times my ballast. He would 
 be going to windward with his spars erect and 
 his spanker-boom amidships when I was on my 
 beam ends, points off my course, and sagging like a 
 billyboy to leeward. You'll excuse my nautical 
 similes, nephew. They are not always intelli- 
 gible, but I am fond of going to the ocean for my 
 ideas." 
 
 "Head as you please in that way," said I, 
 laughing. " You'll find me close in your wake." 
 
 M Oh, then you understand something about the 
 sea, do ye ? " says he. 
 
 " As much as seven and a half years of sailoris- 
 ing could teach me." 
 
 "Damme! " he burst out, "if I didn't think so 
 right away off when I first looked at you. But
 
 14 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 you're not at sea now — you're no longer a sailor, 
 are you ? " 
 
 " No. I gave up that life when my father died. 
 What man worth five pounds a week would keep 
 at sea as a sailor ? " 
 
 " Ay, abuse it ! abuse it, my lad," he shouted. 
 " I'm your man to follow every syllable with 
 breathless enjoyment. Oh for the privilege of 
 spread-eagling the rogues who write books about 
 the nautical life, and make it appear a pleasant 
 calling. Have they dwelt with the sailor in his 
 forecastle ? have they ever spent two hours in 
 passing a lee-earing, as flexible as a bar of iron, in 
 a gale of wind full of ice and the water washing as 
 high as the lee coamings of the main-hatch ? can 
 they show figure-heads mutilated like ours by 
 weather that ranges from the roasting calms of the 
 equator to the hissing snow-whirls and shrieking 
 hurricanes of the Horn ? " 
 
 He pulled a handful of cigars out of his side 
 pocket, put one into his mouth, and handed the 
 others to me. 
 
 "Mind," he continued, flourishing his cigar, 
 lowering his voice, knitting his shaggy brows and 
 speaking with tragic solemnity, " I do not mean 
 that the wonderful, ay, Jack, the thrilling magic of 
 the ocean that drew me as a boy " 
 
 " I always understood you were sent there," I 
 interrupted.
 
 MY UNCLE SEYMOUR. 15 
 
 " to its moaning, storm-laden heart," he con- 
 tinued, slightly cocking his right eye at me, but 
 taking no further notice of my remark, "has 
 vanished from my sympathy and love. Davy 
 forbid ! Man ! I never hear the sullen thunder of 
 breakers upon the shore, I never look forth upon 
 the mighty grey or violet or silvery blue shadow 
 that leans its sweeping line against the haze of the 
 distant heaven, I never watch the majestic pro- 
 cession of its towering combers rolling into snow 
 as they run roaring after one another in the wake 
 of the rushing and living storm, without a leaping 
 up of the spirit — an intoxicating sense of being 
 about six years old — a feeling, I will say, of 
 triumphant gladness, as though in the mere pre- 
 sence and voice of the glorious ocean there was 
 something to deepen and sweeten life at its inmost 
 sources, and to purify and ennoble the spiritual 
 part of me, and of you, and of every other living 
 human creature whose forehead does not slope into 
 idiocy, with inspirations which come very near to 
 being revelations." 
 
 He watched me with an amused face, as if he 
 should say, "Come, my young relative, did you 
 think I could only talk slang through my nose? 
 "What d'ye say to this as a sample of my parts ? " 
 
 "How long have you been in England?" I 
 asked, hardly' knowing what to make of this 
 singular and certainly striking compound that was
 
 16 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 sitting and smoking before me, and calling itself 
 my uncle. 
 
 " Near upon eighteen months." 
 
 "And when do you return ? " 
 
 " Return !— where ? " 
 
 " Where you come from," said I. 
 
 " When I die," he answered. " I'm here for the 
 remainder of my natural life, and let me hope that 
 your British customs will let it keep natural. Yes, 
 siree, I'm here to fix. I have a house at Clifton, 
 near Bristol, close to the Gorge — d'ye know the 
 Gorge? — something to save one many a journey 
 out of this shallow little kingdom, as I never look 
 down into it without reckoning myself abroad in a 
 nation of real scenery. In my house, Jack, you'll 
 find an aunt and two cousins, who'll be heartily 
 glad to make the acquaintance of so fine and manly 
 a beauty as you, and who'll like you none the 
 worse for knowing what the smell of tar resembles." 
 
 I thanked him. 
 
 " When can you come ? " 
 
 " Will next Monday do ? " said I. 
 
 " To-day will do better. There is a fast train at 
 six. We can meet at Padclington and travel 
 together. How long d'ye need to pack up your 
 silver buckles and pomatum ? " 
 
 Now, that "day would have suited me as well as 
 any other. I had nothing to do, and was eager to 
 get out of the sickening, sweltering atmosphere of
 
 MY UNCLE SEYMOUR 17 
 
 London. But my dignity was worth something 
 too. It would not do to jump too eagerly into the 
 arms of this uncle and his family. Let them talk 
 of me a little, thought I, before I heave in view, 
 that I may get some kind of importance out of 
 their curiosity. So I said I should not be able to 
 leave London before Monday, on which my uncle 
 answered, "All right. Suit yourself. We'll look 
 out for you on Monday," and gave me his address 
 on a card. 
 
 I inquired how he had managed to find out where 
 I lived. 
 
 "I'll tell you," said he: and he began a long 
 story of how some months ago he took a directory 
 and hunted through it for my father's address ; 
 how he noticed that there were three Thomas 
 Seymours (without the Sutherland), on whom he 
 called, but found none of them the man he wanted ; 
 how he worked his way down through older direc- 
 tories until he came across Thomas Sutherland 
 Seymour, solicitor, such and such a street. 
 
 " This," said he, "I reckoned to be my brother ; 
 but when I called at the office the clerks they 
 treated me as if I had come to make fools of them. 
 They knew nothing of Thomas Sutherland Seymour. 
 To cut this yarn short, time passed, and I came to 
 the conclusion that if my brother was alive it was 
 not the will of Heaven that I should find him. My 
 
 wife said, ' It serves you right. You never wrote 
 vol. i. c
 
 18 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 to him, and now that you are anxious to see a 
 family face again, fate steps in, takes a hitch over a 
 belaying-pin with the hauling part of your wishes, 
 and stops the tackle from travelling.' Those," con- 
 tinued he, after a little pause, during which time 
 he had slyly watched the face of astonishment I 
 had put on on hearing that I had an aunt who 
 could talk in that fashion, "were not exactly her 
 words, but that is no doubt what she meant. Well, 
 yesterday I came up from Bristol, and in the rail- 
 way carriage met a young man, and got into talk 
 with him. One thing led to another. I spoke of 
 my brother, of the bigness of the world when you 
 want to discover a man, and its littleness when you 
 don't want a man to discover you. ' What's your 
 brother's name ? ' asked the young gentleman. I 
 told him. ' What was he ? ' said he. ' A solici- 
 tor,' says I. ' Well,' said he, ' I know a young 
 fellow named John Sutherland Seymour, and think 
 I have heard him say his father was a lawyer. I 
 don't know his private address, but he belongs to a 
 club I am member of, and if you care to call I have 
 no doubt the porter will be able to tell you where 
 he lives.' That's how I found you out, sir." 
 
 " Stranger things have happened than that," said 
 I, " and yet it is extraordinary enough that you 
 should have met with a man able to cast off the 
 hauling part of your wishes, and so prove him- 
 self stronger than fate."
 
 MY UNCLE SEYMOUR. 19 
 
 11 Similes of that kind recall your old life, hey, 
 Jack ? Is that why you drag up the words again 
 and fondle 'eni ? " He came to the window for air, 
 and said, "Are you in business? Do you do any- 
 thing ? Are you getting money in any fashion ? " 
 
 "No," I replied; " I am an idle man, and I'm 
 trying to find out whether I ought to be ashamed 
 of being idle. I'm afraid the sea has unfitted me 
 for business. I am in hope of cultivating some 
 promptings in that direction, though upon my 
 honour I doubt if I have a single quality that 
 would be of the least use to me in any shore-going 
 capacity." 
 
 u That's very likely," said my uncle. " But what 
 do you want with business ? Haven't you enough 
 to live on ? " 
 
 ""Why, perhaps I have. But don't you see," 
 said I, slightly warmed by observing that he had 
 not helped me in the smallest degree in my apology 
 for doing nothing and being nothing, "that I want 
 to excuse myself for my idleness, which should 
 satisfy you that I do not think idleness good ? " 
 
 ••"What made you give up the sea?" he asked, 
 laughing behind his beard. 
 
 " Didn't I explain, sir ? I said it was having an 
 income left me. Nor was that all. You have been 
 to sea, and know what the life is. Who would be a 
 slave ? Yet I was when at sea, as all sailors are- 
 running here and there to other people's orders,
 
 20 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 pulling and hauling, furling, reefing, and greasing. 
 choked with doughboys and hishee-hashee, snatch- 
 ing at sleep and catching a wink as a man on a 
 yard-arm might try to grasp a booby, and managing 
 to come off with a feather out of the fowl's tail." 
 
 " Ay," cried my uncle, grinning extravagantly r 
 " and let us hear what shape the slush-pot has,, 
 and how the head-pump is rigged, and how a man 
 feels who is one of a short-handed crew when all 
 hands are called ! Oh, the happiness of passing 
 a week with the galley-fire washed out, nothing 
 but frost and sleet and wind on deck, and water 
 and darkness and streaming togs below, weevils 
 in the bread-barge, rats in the mess-kids, and 
 the scuttle-butt smelling as sweet as the Thames 
 off the Isle of Dogs ; a temperance ship where all 
 the lush is aft; a shoddy ship whose owners 
 fall distracted and tear then hair and gnash their 
 teeth every time the old sieve is reported still 
 afloat and in league with the underwriters." 
 
 Then, looking at me very gravely, " Pray, young 
 man," says he, " where did you get your gab 
 from ? Not from my brother Tom ? " 
 
 "I must have got it from you," I replied; "it 
 is evidently in the family." 
 
 "Well," says he, "all that I can say is, a young 
 fellow who can talk as you do ought to find life 
 larger than the West End of London. How do 
 you pass your days ? "
 
 MY UNCLE SEYMOUR 21 
 
 " I knock about," I answered, laughing heartily, 
 for there was something so funny in his manner 
 that it was like talking to a comedian. 
 
 • • Why don't you get married ? If I were your 
 -age and had all the world before me, I'd view 
 marriage as an industry, and start in business 
 as a husband. Make no mistake, Jack. There 
 are are some decent pickings to be found in that 
 calling." He saved me from replying by pulling 
 out his watch and exclaiming, " I have an ap- 
 pointment at four. I'm sorry you can't manage 
 to meet me at Paddington. But we shall see 
 you on Monday ?" 
 
 " Without fail, sir, all being well." 
 
 He laid hold of my hand, and viewing me 
 earnestly said, with a singular kindness and 
 gravity of voice and manner, " Jack, I'm glad to 
 have found you — glad to have met my brother's 
 laddie. Old memories rise whilst I talk and see 
 you standing up in front of me, a big man. Think 
 of Tom having been dead three years ! It makes 
 me feel as if a century had passed since I was 
 a boy. I ought to have written to him — I ought 
 to have made myself heard of — there's much I 
 should have done. But see here, Jack. God's peace 
 be with him ! d'ye know it was he who would 
 chime in with your grandfather against me ; tell 
 the old man that the sea was the only fit place 
 for such a rapscallion as I — for such a skylarking
 
 22 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 son of a gun who was always kissing the servant 
 girls, running into debt with landlords, and coming 
 home with dancing eyes and light heels at one 
 o'clock in the morning? He was right, and the 
 old man was right ; hut I'll tell you a big truth, 
 Jack. It's possible for folks to be right and to 
 be wrong too. Man alive! I was not a rascal, 
 but a loose human arrangement with the makings 
 of a fellow-creature in me; an unravelled rope 
 whose strands wanted twisting up and whose end 
 wanted whipping; and when I came to be a 
 man, got a bit of money, married and passed 
 into what ye might call a municipal entity — a 
 thing interested in rates, drainage, and fellow- 
 townsmen — the bile would rise in my gorge when 
 I thought of Thomas and home, and I never 
 could bring myself to hold out my hand in a 
 letter. It was a traditional prejudice, but I left 
 it t'other side the water when I sailed with the 
 wife and the girls for the old country. Another 
 day you shall tell me where my brother rests. 
 Meanwhile, God bless ye, and — and don't fail us 
 on Monday next." 
 
 So saying he pulled on his wideawake, grasped 
 his stick, and scuttled out of the room, trotting 
 downstairs so nimbly as to defy my efforts to 
 pass him in order to be first with the hall door.
 
 ( 23 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I GO TO CLIFTON. 
 
 This conversation with my uncle took place 
 before my story properly opens, and if I were 
 an artist, perhaps I should leave it out for that 
 reason ; but apart from its being as good as a 
 joke, and showing besides how it happened that 
 I went on a visit to Clifton, it enables me to 
 tell you in a pleasing manner a good deal 
 about myself, and likewise it explains who my 
 uncle was, and why he was a stranger to me. 
 
 You may talk as you please about the beauty 
 of foreign parts. I've seen some grand shows 
 in that way in my time, as what sailor has not? 
 But had I never viewed anything finer than Clif- 
 ton — that part of it, I mean, which they call the 
 Gorge — I should still be able to boast of having 
 beheld as lovely a bit of nature as any part of the 
 world has to offer. "What fixes it in my memory 
 was the sunset. I had tumbled into an open 
 rly — quite a genteel turn-out — along with my
 
 24 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 portmanteau, and when we had climbed a steep 
 hill and had got on top of it and rolled along 
 some distance, I stood up and saw a sky full of 
 •the magnificence of a score of glorious colours, 
 against which the heavy foliage and green heights 
 which tower above the valley, in whose heart 
 the silver Avon (at . flood-tide, mind you) winds 
 like a stream of mercury, stood out dark, 
 massive, dense, the gold of the sky trembling 
 among the iibrine fringe of the wooded acclivi- 
 ties; and layers or folds of emerald, sapphire, 
 rose, scarlet like incandescent iron, sunbright 
 effulgence like that of molten steel in a retort 
 swept by -the hurricane of a steam-created blast, 
 stretching their most beautiful lengths along 
 until their extremities faded in the black vapour 
 of a huge cloud, from whose sooty, stooping belly 
 green sparks of lightning were crackling and 
 glittering, whilst the thunder moaned like the voice 
 of a lion heard roaring in pain in some distant 
 resonant forest. 
 
 The house abreast of which the driver hove his 
 horse to was a small mansion, with about an acre 
 of ground in front of it full of flowers, high trees, a 
 fountain, and so forth. A man-servant in a black 
 suit and white necktie opened the door, and I 
 marched in, but was scarcely entered when my 
 uncle, rushing along, received me with a shout of 
 welcome, and dragged me, travel-stained as I
 
 I GO TO CLIFTON. 2.) 
 
 was, iuto a large and exceedingly elegant drawing- 
 room. 
 
 There were four ladies there, one middle-aged, the 
 others young, one of these a caller, as I supposed, 
 with a small, fat, very old dog, sleek as a rat, at 
 her feet. This tottering creature hared its teeth as 
 we entered, and delivered a few strange wheezy 
 notes, on which the young lady cried "Down, you 
 silly dog ! hush, you foolish old Flora ! " and in 
 the midst of this my uncle introduced me. 
 
 The middle-aged lady was my aunt, a tall 
 woman, still handsome, with plenty of black hair, 
 dark eyes, a fine figure, and wearing what women 
 call " a train," so long that the end of it remained 
 at her chair after she had risen and advanced 
 some paces to meet and welcome me. Two of the 
 others were my cousins, both of them plump, fair 
 girls, not pretty, but with very kind faces and 
 pleasant smiles. I liked their manners amazingly 
 — I mean I heartily relished the way in which they 
 received me ; no affectation, no hanging back, no 
 smirking, and yet there was a pretty modesty in 
 their air, too. 
 
 But the third young lady ! My uncle on intro- 
 ducing me to her had called her Miss Hawke, and 
 I learnt what her Christian name was by one of 
 my cousins saying, " Don't mind her, Florence 
 dear," when her dog barked, and she rebuked the 
 infirm old beast. Florence Hawke, then, was her
 
 26 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 name, and when you get deeper into this book — 
 which you are bound to do, for a stranger yarn you 
 never read in your life — you'll understand why I 
 have it so pat and am able to write it down with- 
 out scratching the back of my head and looking 
 aloft for the words. 
 
 How am I to describe her ? Mates, on the 
 honour of a gentleman who would not tell a lie to 
 gratify the conceit of the finest woman living, I 
 swear that in my opinion Florence Hawke was 
 the sweetest little creature at that or any other 
 time to be found in this country. And why do I 
 call her little ? Faith, she was not so little either. 
 When we stood side by side the top of her sunny 
 aromatic head was on a level with my ear. But 
 little, somehow, is the adjective that will come 
 shoving into my thoughts when I speak of her, 
 because, perhaps, of the winning simplicity of her 
 manner, the childlike earnestness of her, her pretty 
 delightful ways, which had a certain charming 
 babyishness about them. 
 
 I say, how am I to describe her ? If all the 
 colours the very royallest academician now living 
 knows how to mix would fail — as don't I know they 
 would? — to give you the exquisite delicate bloom 
 on her cheeks, the velvet, pearly whiteness of her 
 ears, throat, forehead, the rich brown and gold of 
 her plentiful, beautiful hair, the sweet clear carving 
 of her nostrils and brow, the dark yet luminous
 
 I GO TO CLIFTON. 27 
 
 gray of her large eyes, oh ! not to mention the soul 
 in them, the flashing spirit of intelligence, the 
 magic play of emotion, what am I to do with ink ? 
 What am I to make of such perfections when I 
 have no better brush in my hand than a pen to 
 paint them with ? And yet, though it is more 
 than twenty years ago, I see her as she turned to 
 bow and smile, when my uncle introduced me, as 
 plainly now as I did then — the very pretty hat, the 
 long black feather tenderly coiling over the back of 
 her hair towards her neck as if to kiss it, the plaid 
 dress — no, not plaid, check I mean, small black 
 and white bars crossing, the material, — silk would 
 it be ? — fitting her like the glove upon her hand, 
 and expressing without emphasizing (as every good 
 dressmaker knows how) just the type of figure a 
 man's eye loves to dwell on ; a really beautiful 
 shape with a perfectly proportioned waist, not one 
 of those hiatuses in the meaning of the female 
 body which bequeaths all the sense that ought to 
 lie amidships to the hips. Yes, I see her now as I 
 saw her then, and yet I cannot describe her. A 
 great pity, for on my word of honour she was the 
 sweetest woman living, and ought to be handled 
 by an artist instead of a shell-back still smelling of 
 the pitch-kettle. 
 
 Well, the talk, of course, would be mere common- 
 place at this start. My aunt expressed her joy 
 at her husband having found me out; she was
 
 28 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 delighted to see me ; did I know Clifton ? she 
 was sure I should be charmed with the scenery, 
 and so on. And then my uncle hurst forth : 
 "Conie, Jack, let me show you your room. We 
 dine at eight, which is an hour later than usual," 
 and we went upstairs. 
 
 If my visit were going to make any lengthened 
 portion of this story, I should be tempted to write 
 a page or two about this house in which I found 
 my uncle and his family living, for nothing corn- 
 jdeter and better in its wa} r have I ever seen. I 
 admired everything as I went upstairs, my uncle 
 showing the road with a delighted face — the fine 
 stone staircase, the conservatories, the decorations, 
 and the like — until we came to a large bedroom 
 lighted by a number of candles, as handsome a 
 room as a king's guest could expect, and, in this 
 country, perhaps a better than he would get, with 
 an open window looking on to the front grounds, 
 which lay dark in the shadow of the twilight, a 
 hundred sweet scents floating up out of them on 
 the dew-laden folds of air that stirred softly. The 
 stars were dropping into their places, a faint haze 
 of crimson lingered in the west, and now and again 
 the sky was tinged with the delicate violet glare of 
 lightning; and pretty amid the stillness was the 
 tinkling music played by the fountain. 
 
 "After London," said I, "this is indeed 
 delightful ! "
 
 I GO TO CLIFTOX. 29 
 
 " Well, ray boy, you are heartily welcome — most 
 heartily welcome," exclaimed my uncle, clapping 
 me on the shoulder. " Don't trouble to dress for 
 dinner; we're very homely — at least I am, and 
 hate any kind of fuss." 
 
 He then went away, and shortly afterwards I 
 followed him to the drawing-room, where I found 
 all the family but my Cousin Amelia, Miss Hawke, 
 as I supposed, having left. I took a seat near my 
 mint, and was about to tell her how surprised I 
 had been by her husband's visit, when something 
 under my chair touched my leg. I hopped up, and 
 on looking perceived that it was Miss Hawke's old 
 terrier. 
 
 M What did you think, Jack — that it was a rat ? " 
 cried my uncle, laughing at the manner in which I 
 had whipped on to my feet. 
 
 " Isn't it Miss Hawke's dog ? " said I. 
 
 11 Yes," replied my aunt ; " we have induced her 
 to stay and dine with us." 
 
 " Not the dog, but Miss Hawke, Jack,"' said my 
 uncle. 
 
 '•'Don't you think her very pretty, Mr. Seymour?" 
 said my Cousin Sophie. 
 
 "Mr. Seymour!" shouted my uncle; "whoever 
 heard a girl call her cousin ' mister * before ? My 
 dear Sophie, yonder young fellow is your Cousin 
 Jack ; pray call him so, and make him feel that he 
 is with relatives."
 
 30 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 "Ay, please do," said I. 
 
 She blushed and laughed and said, "Very well, 
 I will call you Jack." 
 
 " Yes, Sophie," I replied, plumping out her name, 
 " I do think Miss Hawke very pretty — wonderfully 
 pretty." 
 
 " You're right, nephew," said my uncle ; "in all 
 my travels I never came across anything sweeter — 
 the object of my earliest affections alone excepted," 
 giving his wife a bow. 
 
 " She's an Australian," said my aunt. 
 
 " Indeed ! " I exclaimed, though why I should 
 have said " Indeed ! " in a tone of surprise I really 
 do not know, for is not Australia as rich in pretty 
 women as any other country or continent — allowing 
 for numbers ? 
 
 " Yes," said my aunt ; " she was born in Australia. 
 Her father made his money out there, and we believe 
 he is a very rich man. He lives in a fine house a 
 short walk from here." 
 
 " I made his acquaintance in a j ourney to London," 
 said my uncle. " His Christian name is Alphonso, 
 and I have heard Florence talk of one Damaris 
 Hawke, an aunt who lives in Australia. What d'ye 
 think, Jack, of Alphonso and Damaris as a pair of 
 names for a small tea-party ? He's a pompous old 
 chap — between you and me, a bit of a prig — with 
 strong aristocratic leanings ; man, you should see 
 his crest ! Yet, in spite of my democratic wide-
 
 I GO TO CLIFTOX. 31 
 
 awake and the republican cut of my jib," said lie, 
 looking down at his clothes, which were of the same 
 pattern as those he had worn when he called upon 
 me, " he was pleased to exchange cards, and on his 
 return from town called with his daughter.'' 
 
 "What I like most in Florence Hawke," said 
 Sophie, " is her unaffectedness. She is very pretty, 
 she will no doubt be very rich, but she is quite un- 
 spoiled, and as artless and simple as a little girl." 
 
 " She will of course have many admirers,"' said I. 
 
 " She might have, you may take your affidavit," 
 answered my uncle, " but her father's a taut hand, 
 my girls say, and nobody dare go near. AYhafs the 
 name of the youngster, Sophia, old Hawke is tacking 
 to fetch •? " 
 
 " Eeginald Moreeorabe," replied my aunt. " His 
 father is a baronet, and Mr. Eeginald will get the 
 title. There's something I do not much like in 
 views of that kind in parents. I have only met 
 Mr. Moreconibe once, but once was enough to dis- 
 cover that he is a very simpering young man, 
 rather conceited, very much given to boasting 
 about what he and Mr. Hawke call blood, and 
 quite capable, no doubt, of believing that he would 
 be doing this beautiful girl much honour by taking 
 her papa's money in exchange for his name."' 
 
 " Self-made Australians are generally fond of 
 titles,"' said Sophie. 
 
 "We're all fond of titles," said I. " I for one
 
 32 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 should be well pleased to be • a lord ; not because I 
 value the rank, but because I value the world's 
 valuation of it." 
 
 " In my opinion," observed my aunt, " the very 
 worst man a girl can have for a husband is a fool." 
 
 " Quite right," said my uncle ; "a woman can 
 never get lower than that." 
 
 " But Florence has to marry Mir. Morecombe first,, 
 mamma," said Sophie. 
 
 At this point of a conversation that was both 
 interesting and instructive Miss Hawke and Amelia 
 came in. Amelia was stouter, let me say fatter, 
 than Sophie; she had three chins and a bust as 
 plump as the bows of a galliot. I doubt if Miss 
 Hawke could have chosen a better contrast for her 
 own delightful shape, and as they entered and 
 crossed the room side by side, I not only found 
 my eyes rivetted to the beautiful face of this young 
 Australian lady, and my head rotating after her, as 
 you may see a little metal duck in a basin of water 
 follow a magnet, but I was surprised by a queer 
 fluttering sensation under my waistcoat ; a feeling 
 as if my heart had got out of gear and were rolling 
 about on a ground- swell of emotion. 
 
 However, no time was allowed me to consider 
 what this might mean. Scarcely had the young 
 ladies entered, when the man-servant was seen 
 standing in the door, exclaiming that dinner was 
 ready. We trooped into the dining-room, my aunt
 
 I GO TO CLIFTON. oo 
 
 on ray arm and Miss Hawke on my uncle's, and 
 took our seats. Here was another fine apartment, 
 with large portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour facing- 
 each other, and the soft light of wax candles and 
 sperm oil to dine hy. Miss Hawke sat opposite me, 
 just clear of the flowers in the centre of the table, 
 so that I had her full in sight throughout the dinner. 
 I will not say that she looked more bewitching 
 without her hat ; let her go dressed as she chose 
 she would have been fascinating — upon my word, 
 even my uncle's wideawake would have become 
 her ! But if she did not look more bewitching, 
 she was not less so now that her hair was exposed, . 
 with its dainty little parting on the left side vanish- 
 ing amid a soft mass of clustering fluffy silken locks 
 on her white forehead, and coils of thick plaits 
 crowning her, and a rose — a small newly-blown 
 rose — glimmering like a jewel among those most 
 lovely folds. 
 
 For the first time that ever I can remember I 
 felt nervous in the presence of a lady — yes, this 
 girl sitting opposite to me, and bringing from time 
 to time the whole broadside of her beauty and 
 intelligence to bear by letting her eyes rest on me 
 with a kind of inquiry in them, as if she were 
 quietly taking stock of the young sailorified chap 
 fronting her, and wondering if he was really a 
 nautical man, and if not, what business he had in 
 seeming one ; I say, that at the start Miss Florence 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 34 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 Hawke made me feel as shy as a schoolboy at an 
 evening party. Positively, at one moment I was 
 so nervous that I did not dare lift a glass of wine 
 for fear of spilling it over what a tailor would call 
 my continuations. 
 
 Fortunately for me, however, my uncle talked 
 incessantly, so that what with having to listen to 
 him, and what with having to attend to what the 
 servants put before them, the others were too busy 
 to notice my manner. At all events, I thought so, 
 and that helped me greatly in working myself on 
 to a level keel again. 
 
 All the conversation at the going off was about 
 my father, about my uncle's discovery of me, and 
 so forth. 
 
 "How nice it must be, Mr. Seymour, to meet 
 with relations unexpectedly ! " said Miss Hawke 
 to me. 
 
 "Yes," I stammered, "very nice indeed — at 
 least, I mean, it depends." And here, seeing that 
 I bade fair to make an ass of myself, I laid hold of 
 my nerves and said, " When I say depends, I 
 should explain, Miss Hawke, that relations unex- 
 pectedly met are not always nice. As an instance, 
 imagine a man addressing a room full of electors ; 
 he wants the voters to believe him not only a Tory 
 but a well-connected man. In the midst of his 
 speech a noise is heard, and a woman, disguised 
 in liquor, with a bonnet on her back, shoves through
 
 I GO TO CLIFTON. 35 
 
 the door, saying, ' I have a right to be here ; he is 
 my brother ! '" 
 
 This produced a laugh, and reminded my uncle 
 of an anecdote, the telling of which took the con- 
 versation off the course it had been steering, for 
 which I was grateful, as I was nervous and apt on 
 such a topic as relations to be yauche, and even 
 offensive, without meaning it. My aunt now asked 
 me questions about myself — how long had I been 
 at sea? what induced me to abandon it? what 
 IDarts of the world I had sailed into ? My answers 
 were listened to with great attention ; indeed, my 
 two cousins took a most flattering interest in me, 
 and by a kind of sisterly sympathy of smile and 
 look — I do not know how else to describe a manner 
 that was immediately and pleasantly sensible to me 
 — made me feel, long before we had finished dinner, 
 that I had known them since they were children. 
 
 I saw Miss Hawke round her lovely eyes when I 
 talked of the sea, and mentioned having been to 
 Sydney, New South Wales. 
 
 "What did you think of the bay?" she asked. 
 4t Is it not lovely ? I was born in Sydney ; but it 
 is not because that town is my native place that I 
 consider its bay must be the beautifulest scene in 
 the world. 1 ' 
 
 "It is beautiful ! " I exclaimed warmly, excited 
 into enthusiasm by her advocacy. Had she praised 
 the kangaroo for its graceful movements, I should
 
 36 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 have sworn that the capers of a Taglioni or a 
 Vestris were not a patch upon the poetical motions 
 of that animal. " Do you know it, uncle ? " 
 
 "Well," answered he, "it is very fine, but it 
 don't come up to Eio." 
 
 "Oh yes, it does," said I. "Miss Hawke, be 
 quite easy ; Sydney Bay tops the whole world's 
 scenery for beauty." 
 
 My uncle laughed, and so did my aunt, and I 
 saw my cousins exchange a faint smile, all which 
 made me suppose that something more was to be 
 seen in my manner than I had any idea was visible 
 or even existing. I cast my eyes down and re- 
 volved a wine-glass on the table, whilst my uncle 
 asked Miss Hawke if she liked sailors. 
 
 Miss Haw Ice. Very much indeed. 
 
 My Uncle. That's brave. Whenever I recall 
 my old profession I love to believe that the ladies 
 like sailors. 
 
 Sophie. Sailors are so unconventional ; I always 
 think them the best society in the world, for that 
 reason. There is no nonsense, no hunting about 
 for compliments and neat sayings. What they 
 feel they say. And then their conversation is full 
 of colour, for they are always travelling and seeing 
 something new. I like sailors. (With emphasis). 
 
 Amelia. So do I. 
 
 Myself. I wish I were still at sea ; I should be 
 able to bow to all this.
 
 I GO TO CLIFTON. 37 
 
 My Uncle. I say, nephew, what d'ye think of 
 Sophie's idea of Jack's talk being full of colour ? 
 (Here he tipped me a wink.) Is it full of colour 
 when the scuttle is thumped in a gale of wind to 
 the roar of "All hands ! Tumble up, my lively 
 hearties ! Don't wait to shave ! " '? 
 
 Miss Hawke (laughing). I have heard that cry 
 of "All hands! " What a pity there is no short 
 cut to Australia ! Cape Horn is very dreadful ! 
 Coming to England this time we nearly ran into 
 an iceberg in a snow-storm. 
 
 My Aunt (clasping her hands). Just think if 
 }*ou had run into it ! 
 
 Mysdf. How often have you made the voyage, 
 Miss Hawke ? 
 
 Miss Hawke. Twice. 
 
 Myself. Are you likely to return to Australia ? 
 
 Miss II niche. I think not. I cannot say. Papa 
 will certainly never return to stop there. He 
 prefers England. 
 
 My Uncle. And you ? 
 
 Miss Hawke. I like Clifton; but I wish we 
 could get the Australian climate here. It is always 
 either too hot or too cold. 
 
 Myself. Do you not prefer London to the 
 country ? 
 
 Miss Hawke. No; and papa hates London. 
 
 My Uncle. And so do I. Life is too stiff in 
 London. Here, if I Wear a wideawake nobody takes
 
 38 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 any notice ; in London people stare as if I were a 
 patriot. And look, Miss Florence, how easily and 
 pleasantly one forms acquaintances and makes 
 friends in the country. "We have not been here 
 very long, and already we know many persons, and 
 one delightful lady (bowing to her), who kindly 
 takes us as we are, dispenses with all the formalities 
 which would hedge her about in London, and make 
 her charming society a luxury to be obtained only 
 at long intervals. 
 
 My Aunt (speaking doubtfully). I should net 
 very much care to live in London. The society 
 that is worth having is very difficult to get. 
 
 My Uncle. And when got, not worth having. 
 
 Miss Hawke. Papa likes ceremony, but I don't. 
 I enjoy unexpected things : an impromptu carpet- 
 dance, dining out as I am now. When you are asked 
 to anything, you anticipate the pleasure of it, and 
 that is why set affairs are often disappointing. 
 
 My Uncle. We are unconventional enough. I 
 never could endure any fuss. My wife and I have 
 had to rough it in a country where people who 
 suffer from corns have no business to live ; for 
 boots over there are heavy, and folks are given to 
 shoving and stamping. My daughters are like 
 their parents ; they take short views and simple 
 ones. Sophie — Amelia — your health, my loves. 
 May you marry men of sense, and live for your- 
 selves instead of for vour neighbours. (He smiled
 
 I GO TO CLIFTOX. 39 
 
 affectionately at them over a glass of claret.) When 
 do you expect your father back, Miss Florence ? 
 
 Miss Hawke. To-inorrow. 
 
 My Aunt. Will he bring Emily with him ? 
 
 Miss Hawke. Yes; and Mr. Morecombe. 
 
 My cousins exchanged looks, and the merest 
 shadow of a smile flitted over Miss Hawke's sweet 
 mouth as she stole a glance at Sophie. Evidently 
 this Mr. Morecombe was a not wholly unfamiliar 
 topic amongst these three young ladies. 
 
 " Don't you feel alone in your big house ? " 
 asked my uncle. 
 
 " No," she answered, " I never feel dull. I 
 rather like being alone — sometimes." 
 
 Evidently she has no mother, thought I. By 
 this time my nervousness had worn off, and I could 
 take peeps at her with some degree of confidence. 
 Why did fate place me plump opposite her ? I 
 would look from her to the beautiful cluster of 
 flowers in the middle of the table, and from them 
 to her, until the most exquisite of God's t works— 
 a lovely woman's face and the shining tints and 
 sweet forms of flowers and foliage — were combined 
 in one impression ; so that never after could I 
 think of her without associating her image with 
 the white and violet and purple petals which filled 
 the room with a fragrance that seemed to me 
 as the breath from her delicate lips. 
 
 But, you tarpaulin, you ! This is too fine ! This
 
 -10 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 is the mere ecstasy of parish clatter ! Was I in 
 love with her then that I should write down all this 
 aromatic stuff in this place ? Alas ! What do I 
 know ? Put me on my oath and I will say — Yes ! 
 I was. in love ; my peace of mind was gone ! I 
 had met my fate, and sat beholding it with a 
 thumping heart. 
 
 By-and-by the ladies left the room, and a box of 
 cigars was put upon the table. My uncle opened 
 the tall folding windows, through which you could 
 step on to the lawn, and we stood together to get 
 the air, smoking and looking at the night. There 
 was a small moon behind the house ; the sky was 
 very black and full of stars ; far away in the quarter 
 we faced there was a faint play of sheet lightning, 
 scarcely more vivid than the silvery flash of the 
 meteors which broke out from the dark air under 
 the stars and sailed away in a line of spangles ; a 
 delicious country silence reigned around, broken 
 only by the distant quick throbbing and rumbling 
 noise of a locomotive dragging a train of carriages, 
 and by the cool plashing of a fountain, and by 
 the rich notes of a nightingale piping hard by/ 
 
 " Can't you understand why I prefer this sort of 
 thing to London? " exclaimed my uncle, speaking 
 through his nose, with the Yankee drawl I had 
 noticed in him when we first met. 
 
 "Of course I do," I replied; "I would not 
 exchange this for London if I had it."
 
 J GO TO CLIFTON. 41 
 
 "Pompous as old Hawke is, lie's not an ass," 
 continued my uncle. "He sticks to Clifton, which 
 proves that he has intellect. He lives in a finer 
 house than this, though he has not the same extent 
 of ground. We'll go and dine with him some of 
 these nights. He's hospitable enough, but a 
 damned old prig. He wants to get a title into his 
 family, and get it he will, though he has to drag it 
 in by the head and ears, and perhaps half murder 
 the poor girl he calls upon to help him." 
 
 " I heard Miss Hawke say that young Mr. 
 Morecombe was coming to-morrow with the old 
 fellow," said I. " How long has this been going 
 on?" 
 
 " What d'ye mean ? How long has young More- 
 combe been on the tappy, as Johnny Crapaud 
 says ? " 
 
 "Ay." 
 
 " Two or three months, I reckon." 
 
 " Has he proposed ? " 
 
 " Lord love ye, how do I know ? but I should 
 say not. This is fine tobacco, Jack. Keal cigars, 
 I caU these." 
 
 "Yes," said I; "they are very fine indeed. 
 What was Mr. Hawke ? " 
 
 " Well, I believe he made his money as a 
 squatter. He is quiet about his beginning; 
 possibly he's ashamed of having 'got money by 
 working for it. I reckon he squatted. There's
 
 42 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 squatting in his soul ; it may be traced in his walk, 
 and followed, as the poet says, in his smile." 
 
 " Have you ever met his friend, Mr. More- 
 combe ? " said I, trying to make believe that I 
 asked these questions merely for the sake of talk- 
 ing, and that I would just as soon speak of consols, 
 or take his views on the molasses market. 
 
 " Once ; I dined with him at Hawke's. A 
 puppy, sir ; a poor creature with a parting down 
 the middle of its hair and a glass in its eye, and 
 immense stiff stick-up shirt-collars. Hawke will 
 not get his daughter to have him, he may be 
 cocksure of that. She is destined for a man, not 
 for a monkey. How social she is ! This evening 
 Sophie, who was among the flowers, saw her pass 
 and called her in. And then she stays and dines 
 without requiring any further pressing than a plain 
 ' Will you ? ' That's the sort of friendliness I 
 like in man or woman. And my eye, nephew! 
 what a face, hey ? If I were only a quarter of a 
 century younger — if I were only a single man ! " 
 
 He made several motions with his arms, that by 
 dumbshow he might express the ecstasy his imagi- 
 nation flung him into, then smelt to his cigar and 
 said that he defied any importer in the country ta 
 beat that brand. 
 
 I felt that he was just one of those men whom 
 a young fellow could bare his soul to ; and nothing 
 prevented me from telling him how desperately
 
 I GO TO CLIFTON. 4& 
 
 impressed I was by Miss Florence Hawke but the 
 consideration that he had daughters of his own. 
 He presently gave me a chance of expressing my 
 admiration of my cousins by speaking of his wife. 
 
 " How d'ye like her, Jack ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you how much. She is all kind- 
 ness ; and is she not a very clever woman ? " 
 
 " Well, if a man wears a diamond on his finger 
 there is no reason why he should talk about it as 
 if he were a jeweller," said he. " Sophia is my 
 wife : and that fact belays all I should like to say 
 about her. But one thing I'll assert — a realler 
 woman doesn't walk the surface of this globe. 
 There may be women as real, but nothing realler. 
 There are no half-laughs and pursers' grins about 
 her. She's straight up and down, both ends of 
 her bolted and clinched in the cast-iron of solid 
 principles. Yes, siree, your aunt's a woman; 
 a Canadian, sir — the daughter of a colony whose 
 females are clippers of the first quality, handsome 
 in make, swift in action, staunch in build, faithful 
 to the hand that steers 'em. And though it's not 
 for me to call your attention to such matters — more 
 particularly as they are perfectly obvious — yet let 
 me suggest that, considering her age, you have 
 probably met younger women, reckoned handsome 
 in their way, without her figure, her taste in dress, 
 and her complexion. Eh ?" 
 
 I fully agreed and said, "And your daughters?
 
 4-1 jack's couktship. 
 
 Have you no word for them? I declare I have 
 never seen kinder faces, nor been charmed by 
 gentler and more winning manners." 
 
 "Ay, they are very well, they are very well/' 
 he exclaimed in a soft voice. " They are good 
 girls. They have sound hearts. I thank God for 
 that. A parent has no right to expect more." 
 • And whilst we finished our cigars he told me of 
 his early struggles, what a noble helpmate he had 
 in his wife, to whom he had been married five- 
 and-twenty years ; and then talked of my father, 
 and asked questions about my mother, who she 
 was, what relatives I had on her side, and so 
 forth. But it was now time to pitch the end of 
 our cigars away and join the ladies, who we 
 found in chairs round the tall open windows, 
 listening to the faint strains of a distant band of 
 music audible on this side of the house only. 
 
 "What's that they are blowing?" inquired my 
 uncle. 
 
 "It sounds like 'God save the Queen,'" said 
 Sophie. 
 
 "Has Australia a national song?" asked my 
 aunt. 
 
 " Why, of course — ' God save the Queen,' 
 mamma," said Amelia. 
 
 " No, excuse me," said I ; " the Australian 
 anthem is ' Cheer up, Sam.' " 
 
 " What ! " cried my uncle ; " d'ye mean ' Cheer
 
 I GO TO CLIFTOX. 45 
 
 up, Sain, don't let your spirits go down ? ' Is my 
 nephew right, Miss Florence ? " 
 
 " We put ' God save the Queen ' first, I be- 
 lieve," she answered, laughing ; " but everybody 
 in Australia is fond of ' Cheer up, Sam ! ' " 
 
 This led to my aunt asking Miss Hawke to sing, 
 to which she consented on condition that Amelia 
 sang first. So my cousin went to the piano and 
 piped in a small blithe note about some merry, 
 merry man who broke an unfortunate girl's heart, 
 and yet continued very merry, ri fol de lol ! 
 proving what odious rogues merry, merry men are. 
 Then Miss Hawke, after a little hesitation and a 
 timid peep at me with her lovely eyes, took her 
 place and warbled a ballad. I have no recollection 
 of the air; I do not remember that I gathered 
 what the poetry was about ; but for all that I 
 considered it the divinest song I had ever heard. 
 Was it some commonplace tune ? were the words 
 of the album type — the Letitia-Elizabeth-Landon- 
 and-broken-heart-and-dishevelled-ringlets school ? 
 Very like, very like ; but no incomparable Italian 
 artist singing some air of matchless beauty could 
 have overwhelmed me with such emotions as those 
 raised in me by Miss Hawke' s simple, pretty voice, 
 the airy, graceful, flower-like pose of her figure, 
 her white hands, with a ring or two on them, 
 trembling like blown snow-flakes which glittered 
 with the sparkle of ice-crystals as they moved over
 
 46 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 the ivory keys, her rich hair taking a ruddy tinge 
 of gold from the soft lamplight, the sweetest of 
 little feet coquetting with the pedals. 
 
 I protest, when I think of her I long like 
 Werther to take my flowing locks in both hands 
 and pour out my soul. Dissembling was idle. 
 When more than a man's heart will hold is 
 poured into it, then, like any other vessel — a hook- 
 pot or a washing-tub — it will overflow. I was 
 perfectly sensible that there was a note of some- 
 thing exceedingly like impassioned admiration in 
 the thanks I added to those of the others for her 
 song ; but I could not help it. Amelia looked at 
 me, Sophie at her mother, and her mother fanned 
 herself. Miss Hawke said, "You are too kind, 
 Mr. Seymour, to praise me so warmly ; my voice 
 is a very poor one ; " whilst my uncle observed, 
 " I don't know ; it looks to me as if Jack had a 
 cultivated taste ; " on which I gave a wild laugh. 
 
 Miss Hawke then somewhat bashfully asked if 
 I would sing. (What ! before ladies ? thought I. 
 Never !) I told her that my knowledge of music 
 did not enable me to reach to anything higher 
 than a windlass chorus. 
 
 " Then, give us one of the old chanteys," ex- 
 claimed my uncle. " ' Haul the Bowline,' or 
 ' Whiskey, Johnny,' or ' Eun, let the Bulljine run.' 
 Why, the mere sound of those old songs takes me 
 back forty years, and I seem to be standing in the
 
 I GO TO CLIFTON. 47 
 
 lee scuppers up to my neck, or holding on with 
 my eyelids as I try to roll up the fore -royal 
 single-handed." 
 
 However, I declined to sing, and they gave up 
 pressing me. Tea was brought in, and we sat 
 with cups and saucers in our hands talking a 
 variety of small beer, until Miss Hawke, pulling 
 a watch of the size of a sixpence fi*om her waist- 
 band, said that it was getting late — she must go 
 home ; whereupon my uncle said he would walk 
 with her to her house, and half turned to me in 
 a manner that made me hope he was going to 
 ask me to join him ; but instead he observed, " I 
 shan't be above twenty minutes, Jack. Don't go 
 to bed ; we'll have a cigar when I return." Of 
 course I endeavoured to look satisfied and happy, 
 though I would cheerfully have given up smoking 
 for a month for the privilege of helping him to see 
 Miss Hawke home. 
 
 Well, presently she came down dressed, looking 
 lovely in the lamplight in her bewitching hat, 
 and said good-night to us, and I saw my uncle 
 linking in the hall with his wideawake on, and 
 wished him at Jericho for leaving me behind. 
 She left the room, but came back in a moment, 
 crying out in her melodious way, " Oh, I have 
 forgotten Flora ! Where's my ducky Flora ? " 
 
 My uncle whistled, my aunt made a noise like 
 a hen, and my cousins peered about. I looked
 
 48 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 under the sofa, and found the old creature snugged 
 up into a ball and snoring like a young negro. 
 
 "Here's Flora," said I, dropping on one knee, 
 meaning to haul the animal out and gallantly 
 place her in her mistress's arms ; but the moment 
 I touched the aged beast, that was evidently very 
 deaf, she staggered on to her legs with her tail on 
 end like an ensign staff on a ship's stern, snapped 
 at my hand, and went reeling under the sofa into 
 the room, backing away, and making a most 
 horrible faint barking noise. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, Mr. Seymour," said Miss 
 Hawke ; " she's the sweetest, most harmless, the 
 dearest old thing — aren't you, Flora?" and she 
 took the quivering, grinning, terrified, deaf, asth- 
 matical old brute to her heart, and put her lips to 
 the worn-out skin of the creature's head and 
 fondled it. She then went away for good, giving 
 us all a beautiful smile as she quitted the room, 
 and I sat down with my aunt and cousins to chat 
 with them until my uncle returned.
 
 ( 49 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 
 
 I went to bed at half-past eleven that night. My 
 aunt, in the most affectionate manner, hoped I 
 would sleep well ; my cousins bade me good-night 
 with the kindness of sisters ; my uncle accompanied 
 me to my bedroom in order to see that I was pro- 
 perly cared for, and parted from me with every 
 manifestation of cordial pleasure at my presence, 
 begging me to feel completely at home, to do as I 
 pleased, to ask for whatever I wanted, to enjoy 
 myself thoroughly, and to stay as long as ever I 
 chose. 
 
 Could mortal uncle say more to a nephew ? Aud 
 what a delightful, fragrant, breezy bedroom was 
 mine ! And yet, though I was in bed by twelve, 
 the lights out, not a sound to disturb me outside 
 save it were now and again a moan of night-wind 
 to rustle the flowers under the window and shake 
 their sweetness into the dark, star-laden air, I did 
 not close my eyes in sleep till four o'clock. 
 
 VOL. i. e
 
 50 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 No Chancery litigant whose three years' suit is 
 in all probability to end next day ; no young actor 
 whose first appearance in London is fixed for the 
 following night ; no distracted tradesman with 
 several heavy bills, renewed ad nauseam, falling 
 due next morning, could have plunged and rolled 
 upon his mattress more wearily and sleeplessly 
 than I. To say that I was so much in love with 
 Florence Hawke as to be unable to close my eyes 
 through thinking of her would be to say a little too 
 much. If ever a man fell in love at first sight, 
 I did ; I'll not deny it. I thought Miss Hawke a 
 beautiful creature, with the manner of a queen and 
 the sweetness of an angel ; and I was in love with 
 her, though a few hours before I had never heard 
 of her ; I had not the least idea that there was 
 such a person in the world. But I am not going 
 to pretend that I was such an emotional, impres- 
 sionable, sentimental swab that I could be robbed 
 of my sleep right away out of hand by the first 
 pretty woman I had ever seen, whom I felt I could 
 marry and live happily with ever after. 
 
 And yet she was responsible for my sleepless- 
 ness, too, for I lay thinking of her until I thought 
 myself into broad wakefulness, though I had gone 
 tired to bed, as a man who may be hungry at his 
 usual hour for dining finds his appetite gone if the 
 dinner be long delayed. Being of a somewhat 
 imaginative mind, I pictured her as forced by her
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 51 
 
 father into accepting Mr. Morecombe, and I 
 thought of myself as going to the rescue and 
 attacking old Hawke and withering him up with a 
 thousand penetrating and scathing sarcasms, and 
 my humour actually carried me into the imagina- 
 tion of horsewhipping young Morecombe for being 
 rude to me. What wit visits one in bed where it is 
 of no use ! What conflicts one has there with 
 one's enemies in the silence of night, and how 
 victorious one always is ! 
 
 However, I fell asleep at last, and when I was 
 called by a servant was thankful to find that the 
 night was gone, and my job of kicking the bed- 
 clothes about done for the time being. There 
 must be something very noxious and nauseous in 
 the London air to make the breezes of the country 
 or the seaside the delights they are to Cockney 
 nostrils. Spite of my night of broken rest, I felt a 
 stone lighter in weight as I moved about the room 
 dressing myself. The atmosphere was delicious : 
 a warm, aromatic tide that hummed pleasantly 
 through the window, and was full of the chanting 
 of bees, radiant with the tossing and blown flight 
 of butterflies, and there was a sound of the throb- 
 bing life of Bristol city pulsing in it. 
 
 I found my relations in the breakfast-room : not 
 one of those gloomy subterranean chambers so 
 called which you find in London houses, and which 
 are occupied by the blackbeetles when the family 
 
 U. OF ILL LIB.
 
 52 jack's courtship. 
 
 are away, but a handsome, cheerful apartment 
 made green and cool by the shadows of some trees 
 which stood close against that side of the house. 
 I was warmly greeted, and answered the kind 
 inquiries as to the night I had passed by saying 
 that when I fell asleep I slept like a top, which was 
 true enough. 
 
 " I'll tell you," said my uncle, " how you may 
 kill the time here. There is a fast mare in the 
 stable at your disposal whenever you have a mind 
 for a canter. Can you ride ? " 
 
 " Yes, if there's pommel enough to hold on by." 
 
 " Then there is a snug phaeton in which you can 
 drive yourself and your aunt and your cousins 
 round the country — I don't mean Great Britain, but 
 the neighbourhood. There is the club at Bristol. 
 I have put your name down, and you can use it 
 whilst you are here. You have the sea within easy 
 reach. Wales is not far off, and you can fetch any 
 of the Channel ports whenever you like by steamer 
 from Bristol. I don't know whether we shall be 
 able to manufacture any dances for you — we 
 have not been here long enough to be able to fill 
 a room — but dinners I think we can promise ; 
 and what further programme can we make out, 
 Sophia ? " 
 
 " Nothing farther is wanted," said I. "It is 
 already most hospitably abundant." 
 
 Presently my aunt said something about Florence
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 53 
 
 Hawke, and asked Amelia at what hour that day 
 Mr. Hawke was expected. 
 
 "At five or six this afternoon," was the reply. 
 " There's an anthem I much want to hear to be 
 sung at service this morning in the Cathedral, and 
 T arranged yesterday with Florence to go. We 
 shall walk there, and her carriage will fetch us." 
 
 "Will you take me?" said I. "Nothing 
 delights me so much as sacred music." 
 
 " By all means come," answered my kind cousin. 
 
 "Miss Hawke, I hope, won't think me intrusive?" 
 said I. 
 
 " Why should she ? " exclaimed the hearty, good- 
 natured Sophie. 
 
 "Intrusive! You mean complimentary," ob- 
 served my uncle. " D'ye suppose, man, she'll 
 reckon you go for the love of music ? " 
 
 The downrightness of this somewhat abashed me. 
 "But I should like to hear the music," said I; 
 " and is not the Cathedral worth seeing? " 
 
 " Never was in it," he answered. 
 
 "I am thinking," said my aunt, addressing her 
 husband, and then looking at her daughters as if 
 seeking for encouragement to deliver what was in 
 her mind, "that Mr. Hawke might— I mean, that 
 as we cannot pretend to be ignorant of his views 
 respecting " 
 
 " What, my love ? What do you want to say ? " 
 asked my uncle.
 
 54 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " Why," she continued, " lie might not perhaps 
 like Florence to — he might not thank us for intro- 
 ducing- " She could not go on, perhaps not liking 
 
 to be too plain, and yet not knowing how to convey 
 her meaning otherwise than plainly. But we all 
 guessed what she meant, and my uncle said — 
 
 " Let old Mr. Hawke hang himself. What is it to 
 us ? If he objects to his daughter meeting young 
 men, let him lock her up. I really cannot confine 
 Jack to his bedroom because, being at large, he is 
 likely to annoy Mr. Hawke by being polite to his 
 daughter when he meets her, and by offering to 
 accompany her and his cousin — his cousin, my 
 dear — to hear a performance of sacred music.'* 
 
 "I shouldn't be too sensitive about Mr. Hawke's 
 feelings, mamma, if I were you," said Sophie. 
 " Why shouldn't Cousin Jack know Florence, and 
 walk with her and Amelia ? I am sure he is worth 
 a thousand Mr. Morecombes." 
 
 " Say twenty thousand, Sophie," I exclaimed, 
 feeling that I could hug the dear girl for her good- 
 ness and loyalty. 
 
 " I am a father myself," said my uncle, lying 
 back in his chair and taking a complacent look 
 round the table, " and I should be very sorry to 
 do anything calculated to bother a man in his 
 wishes concerning his children. But I am not 
 going to trouble myself on matters I can't help. 
 I should be sorry to call upon Mr. Hawke and.
 
 SOME BACKED MUSIC. 55 
 
 tell hira that in my opinion he is a prig, for sub* 
 ordinating his daughter's happiness in the future 
 to a twopenny anxiety to drag some poor creatine 
 of a man into the family, whose one recommendation 
 is that when his father dies he will be a baronet. 
 I would not tell him that, I say. But d'ye suppose 
 I'm not going to have my brother's son to stop 
 with me, that I am going to shut my door against 
 my own sex, because Miss Florence visits here, 
 and old Hawke would be angry if she should go 
 and give her heart to one of my guests instead of 
 reserving it — or the shell of it, for it'll be but a 
 hollow thing she presents if she's forced to hand 
 it over to the wrong man — instead of reserving 
 it, I say, for the coxcomb her father wants her to 
 have ? " 
 
 " Well, I am sure I never thought my remarks 
 would have led to all this," said my aunt ruefully. 
 " Nobody could have a greater contempt for Mr. 
 Hawke's notions of marriage than I. All that I 
 meant to say was that we, as acquaintances and 
 neighbours of his — I mean, that as Florence very 
 
 often comes to see us " Here she broke down 
 
 again. 
 
 I felt it time to speak. 
 
 " Why this anxiety, aunt ? Am I going to pounce 
 upon the young lady and carry her off ? Is it the 
 dove that usually bolts with the hawk ? I admit 
 that she is a lovely girl. There would be nothing
 
 56 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 very astonishing in any guest or male friend of 
 yours falling in love with her ; but if he flattered 
 himself on winning her, I should either consider 
 him demented or insufferably conceited. But as 
 you object to my " 
 
 " No, no ! " she interrupted, "I don't object — 
 indeed not, Mr. Jack. I only — what I mean is — 
 indeed, if you don't accompany her and Amelia 
 you'll make me feel quite uncomfortable." 
 
 This ended it, my uncle rounding it off with a 
 burst of laughter, 
 
 I can be as fastidious in my views as my betters, 
 and I yield to no man in respecting the right sort 
 of parental opinions on the duties and behaviour 
 of young ladies ; and when therefore I look back, I 
 am unable to find the least possible impropriety in 
 my volunteering to escort two girls to service at a 
 Cathedral to hear a particular anthem sung. Yet 
 suppose I had not been strictly within, and well 
 within, the bounds of decorum, I should still have 
 begged my cousin to take me to the service and 
 risked the chance of being thought improper. My 
 uncle was right ; it was not the sacred music, it was 
 not the Cathedral that drew me. I wanted to be in 
 Miss Florence's company again ; I wanted to enjoy 
 the delight of being near her, of being able to see 
 her beautiful face and hear her sweet voice. 
 
 So, shortly after breakfast, Amelia and I left the 
 house for Clifton Lodge (let Mr. Hawke's residence
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 57 
 
 have that name), I handsomely equipped with a 
 gay flower that loyal and tender-hearted Sophie 
 had pinned upon my coat whilst I waited in the 
 hall for Amelia, and my cousin in hright colours 
 which she topped with a green parasol that gave 
 her warm fat face a kind of copper-like splendour. 
 Our road took us from the valley of the Avon, and 
 when you are out of sight of that fairy-like ravine, 
 the nohle heights of rocks, the shining river that 
 winds at bottom, and the wonders of vegetation 
 whose rich summer hues make the whole place like 
 a piece of tropical scenery, Clifton does not offer 
 many points for a man to posture over in descrip- 
 tion. I own- 1 was not rendered emotional by the 
 sight of dust and villas. My thoughts were con- 
 siderably ahead of me — along with Miss Florence 
 Hawke : and I believe, had the Alps been shifted 
 by an earthquake and brought alongside, T should 
 not have taken much notice of them. 
 
 We arrived at the house, and a very handsome 
 building it was : square, detached, with a sort of 
 tower upon it, and stone figures of angels or graces 
 or muses at the corners. It was as big again as 
 my uncle's ; but whether I was prejudiced by what 
 I had heard of old Hawke, or whether the house 
 was really suggestive, as I found it, it seemed 
 to me, for all its conservatories, its rich window 
 drapery, its steps, pillars, and the rest of it, a 
 cold, formal, precise-looking home. It had a look
 
 58 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 of opulent genteelness, and if I had been asked to 
 design a house for a rich man who was with- 
 out blood, and anxious to procure some, Clifton 
 Lodge is the sort of residence I should have given 
 him. 
 
 There was a short carriage drive to the door : we 
 marched along with powdered boots, and pulled 
 the bell. A fellow in grand livery opened the door 
 and conducted us to the drawing-room, quite too 
 sumptuously furnished for my taste, much as I 
 value the fine and the beautiful : full of gilt and 
 marble, with a hand-painted ceiling — in short, 
 pretty nearly as overpowering as one of Lord 
 Bute's rooms in Cardiff Castle, which I had the 
 honour to inspect when I visited that part. 
 
 "Mighty splendid!" said I to Amelia, looking 
 about me and missing something — I don't know 
 what — which had it been there would have pre- 
 vented me from finding it so hard and cold. 
 " And this is Miss Hawke's home ? " 
 
 "Is it not very magnificent?" whispered my 
 cousin. " Mr. Hawke must have brought a lot 
 of Australian gold with him to Clifton, for every- 
 thing seems gold here. Aren't you surprised now 
 to think how unaffected and childlike Florence is ? 
 One would suppose that a girl living in such 
 splendour would think herself too good for anybody 
 but lords and ladies." 
 
 "Well," said I, "if I lived here I don't know
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 5£ 
 
 that I should be able to walk. The earth would be 
 too low for my boots. Surely her father ought to 
 have a soul above the son of a baronet ! " said I, 
 glaring at a lady in a cloud blowing a trumpet 
 amid a grummet of flowers upon the ceiling. 
 
 " The son will be the eighth baronet when he 
 gets it," said she. "And I believe the More- 
 combes are connected in various ways with about 
 twenty titled families/' 
 
 A plague upon him and his connections, thought 
 I ; and as this benediction upon him rolled up out 
 of my soul Miss Hawke came in, dressed for the 
 walk. She looked surprised to see me, and slightly 
 blushed. I presume, when the footman gave our 
 name she supposed I was my uncle. But the look 
 was all the expression her surprise found, and it 
 was replaced by a smile, so uncommonly like one 
 of pleasure, that as it passed over her face my 
 heart struck a loud whop in my bosom. 
 
 She gave me her little gloved hand to shake, 
 said she was very glad to see me, and asked if I 
 was going to the Cathedral with them. 
 
 " Yes, if I may," said I. " "When Amelia spoke 
 of the [anthem, I begged leave to hear it too. I 
 hope I am not intrusive. Nobody asked me. I 
 am here by my own invitation." 
 
 "Why shouldn't you come?" said she, smiling, 
 but looking shyly. " The choir is a good one. If 
 you like sacred music, you will enjoy the singing."
 
 60 jack's couktship. 
 
 As we left the house I asked if the Cathedral 
 was far. 
 
 " Almost far enough for a drive if you are a bad 
 walker," she answered. 
 
 " We shall drive back/' said Amelia. " The way 
 is nearly all down-hill. Not that I very much care 
 to use a carriage when I go to church, even on 
 week-days. I dislike seeing people roll up to a 
 church door as if they expected the vicar, and his 
 curates, and the pew-opener, and the sexton to 
 come out and stand in a row and bow to them. It 
 is excusable, perhaps, on a week-day, or when 
 people are old or have the gout." 
 
 "Yes, at church we are all equals," said I, 
 " and ought to arrive on foot, the nobleman 
 and the chimney-sweep, the footman and the 
 baronet." 
 
 I brought in the word baronet for the sake of 
 putting a little malicious emphasis upon it ; but 
 Miss Florence took no notice. What an adorable 
 profile was hers to turn to as I walked by her side ! 
 There was not an atom of stiffness in her talk. 
 Had we been auld acquaintance she could not have 
 addressed me more freely and pleasantly. She 
 laughed at my little jokes (little they were), asked 
 me about the sea, wondered how I could have had 
 the heart to give up the life and liberty of the 
 ocean, and spoke of the sailor's calling as the man- 
 liest in the world.
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. Gl 
 
 "What ! " cried Amelia, " more manly than the 
 soldier's?" 
 
 "Certainly," she answered; "they cannot be 
 mentioned in the same breath. Don't you agree 
 with me, Mr. Seymour ? " 
 
 " Agree with you, Miss Hawke ! indeed I do, 
 from the bottom of my heart I " I answered, and I 
 barely saved myself from adding that had she 
 argued in favour of the soldier's life I should have 
 agreed with her with all my soul, just the same. 
 
 It was a very short walk to me. When Amelia 
 said, " The Cathedral, Jack, is in College Green 
 there, just round the corner," I exclaimed, " I 
 thought you said, Miss Hawke, that it was almost 
 far enough for a drive ? Were it five times further 
 it would not be too far for me." 
 
 Very hot it was, being a cloudless morning, and 
 many a fathom we measured without meeting the 
 relief of an inch of shade ; but though corpulence 
 is not popularly supposed to revel in the dog-days, 
 my fat and amiable cousin declared she enjoyed the 
 heat, and walked as if perspiration had been pre- 
 scribed ; whilst the only effect produced on Miss 
 Florence by the exercise and the temperature was a 
 slight deepening of the delicate peachlike tint on 
 her cheeks. As I swung along at her side, listening 
 to her pretty voice and looking at her charming 
 face, it seemed difficult to realize that yesterday at 
 that hour, ay, and for some hours later, she had
 
 62 
 
 no existence so far as I was concerned. Indeed, I 
 seemed to have known her an age — a notion pro- 
 duced probably by my thoughts having been full of 
 her from the moment I clapped eyes on her. 
 
 I should like to be able to write in praise of 
 Bristol Cathedral. The mere circumstance of 
 Florence Hawke living in the neighbourhood ought 
 to have made living poetry and beauty not only of 
 the old pile, but of every brick and chimney-pot in 
 the city. But there is a nakedness and a most 
 unlovely grimness about the Cathedral that renders 
 admiration very difficult. Outside, the structure 
 has the look of a fortress, and inside it is as naked 
 as a stable. The pews or benches are crowded 
 together at one end, where there is a trifling show 
 of ecclesiastical furniture ; and to reach those seats 
 you have to navigate a small Atlantic Ocean of 
 stone floor, with pillars on either side; and the 
 sterility of the cold and stony scene is emphasized, 
 rather than relieved, by here and there — as widely 
 scattered as currants in a sailor's dumpling — a 
 memorial of brass or marble. In most cathedrals 
 there is something to look at. What is shown may 
 often be a sham. Still, a small stock of faith will 
 enable you to gaze with interest, as for instance at 
 the Black Prince's armour at Canterbury, which, 
 for all one knows, may have been manufactured at 
 Birmingham, whence a great number of ancient 
 relics are, I believe, annually exported. But Bristol
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 63 
 
 Cathedral offers you nothing. Historic memories 
 no doubt it has ; but there is nothing to touch, to 
 hang over, to muse upon in the form of a tomb, an 
 old banner, a stain on the flags where some holy 
 man gave up the ghost. 
 
 And yet one church Bristol has that atones for 
 the unfurnished Cathedral. I mean St. Mary 
 Eedcliffe. It is an architectural dream, most 
 beautiful and tender. Why are not all churches 
 equally lovely? Were they so, I am sure we 
 should all be more religious. Ladies, St. Mary 
 Eedcliffe is a church to get married in. Why, 
 even a wedding for money — ay, even the nuptials 
 of a foolish old rich woman with a sneaking rapa- 
 cious young man — would take an idyllic character 
 in St. Mary Eedcliffe. But I say, Bristolians, 
 where got you that effigy of poor little Chatterton ? 
 Could anything be more foolish ? I'm a Dutchman 
 if it isn't like a memorial to a tomtit. Think of a 
 structure resembling a shrine surmounted by a 
 caricature in little of a Lord Mayor of the last 
 century ! Was Chatterton a genius ? 'Pon my 
 word, I never could understand his ancient lingo ; 
 but if he had no more talent than I have, who 
 could not make a rhyme though ten pounds of pure 
 Virginia were offered me for a couplet, may I be 
 hanged if I would have consented to the erection of 
 such a scarecrow had I hailed from old Sebastian 
 Cabot's port.
 
 64 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 Well, Miss Hawke and my cousin and I entered 
 the Cathedral and joined the worshippers (few 
 enough., but business is business, and this wasn't 
 Sunday) and heard the anthem. A fine piece of 
 rumbling music it was, and well sung. The 
 memory of it would inspire me to attempt some 
 elegant writing had I heard it in any other interior, 
 say Durham, or Winchester (wherein I have knelt 
 as a bairn), or Gloucester, but the nakedness of 
 the building ran amuck with emotion. The dim, 
 rich, holy light, the ghostly tatters of ancient 
 banners hovering like petrified bats in the gloom of 
 a dark roof that has reverberated the orisons of 
 generations, the stone warriors on their backs with 
 their mailed hands crossed upon their pale bosoms 
 and their noses gone to join their souls, the satyr- 
 like effigies which glower like the nightmares of 
 mad Chinamen from darksome corners — such and 
 a score of other sacerdotal wonders which no man 
 who has heaved at a capstan and sat astride a yard- 
 arm can be expected to remember, were wanting as 
 adjuncts to that rolling and growling and swelling 
 anthem in Bristol Cathedral. 
 
 And yet the grand melodies, the sweet and silver 
 tenor notes, the tremulous thunder of the solemn 
 organ echo in my soul to this hour, as a sacred 
 setting of that poem of womanhood who sat on my 
 right hand in a posture of devotion listening to the 
 heavenly strains. Ay, depend upon it that any
 
 SOME SACKED MUSIC. 65 
 
 girl who wants to enrich and make large and 
 splendid a young man's idea of her cannot do 
 better than carry him off to hear an anthem sung 
 in a cathedral. The ball-room bequeaths the 
 memory of white shoulders, sparkling eyes, waltz- 
 ing measures, and so forth; the dinner-table 
 pretty much the same thing, sometimes including 
 the waltzing measures ; the parlour experience is 
 homely, and sentiment gets mixed up with darning, 
 hemming, and such matters. But to sit by the 
 side of a lovely girl in a cathedral and hear an 
 anthem sung is to enjoy a singular elevation of 
 emotion. She becomes a part of the sacred enter- 
 tainment. She humanizes the music, and the 
 music spiritualizes her. This may be rather 
 German as a piece of subtlety, but none the less is 
 it true. I can tell you this : I understood that 
 anthem all the better for looking at Florence 
 Hawke ; yes, and I found her sweetness the sweeter 
 and her womanly beauty the womanlier for watch- 
 ing her and thinking of her, to the tune that rolled 
 out of the organ's melodious heart with a deep- 
 throated reverberation that sometimes set the seat 
 we were on quivering. 
 
 Service being over we came away, and outside 
 found Alphonso Hawke's carriage — a regal turn-out, 
 quite in keeping with the gilt and velvet and marble 
 of Clifton Lodge. There was a device on the panels 
 that looked uncommonly like a lord's, and might 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 66 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 have passed for something of the kind to a person 
 not nicely acquainted with odds and ends of that 
 sort. 
 
 "Is it too hot for a drive, dear, before we go 
 home?" asked Miss Hawke, addressing Amelia, of 
 course, for I was not dear yet. 
 
 "No; if it is not too hot to walk it is not too hot 
 to drive," answered Amelia. " Would you like a 
 drive, Jack ? " 
 
 " Very much," said I. So we got into the 
 carriage, Miss Hawke gave some directions to the 
 footman, and off we went, honoured by the notice 
 of everybody we encountered. Indeed, I never 
 before observed people stare so hard at a carriage 
 as the Bristolians we met did at ours. The reason 
 lay in the men's livery, I think. It was as gaudy 
 as a lord mayor's, a blaze of crimson and gold, and 
 they had white hair and shining stockings. "We 
 talked of the anthem, and Miss Hawke asked me 
 what I thought of the Cathedral. I gave her my 
 opinion, and she agreed with me. 
 
 " It is the only disappointment I have," said she. 
 "We Australians are always dreaming of the 
 antiquities of England; and when papa told me 
 we were going to live near a cathedral, I pictured 
 a place like Westminster Abbey, full of wonderful 
 tombs, glorious windows, beautiful monuments, and 
 sanctified spots railed off and hidden in twilight. 
 However, it is better than no cathedral at all."
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 67 
 
 This was about the most sensible thing that was 
 said during the drive ; all the rest of the conver- 
 sation was made up of the idle chatter which three 
 persons — who are no company — will bestow on one 
 another. The young ladies spoke of persons who 
 were strangers to me : of Mrs. Jones' last dance ; 
 of Mrs. Robinson's projected garden-party ; of Miss 
 Chirrup learning singing with the idea of going on 
 the stage. I had as much to say, too, as either of 
 them, tried to be funny and made them laugh, any- 
 how. I took no notice of the course the coachman 
 was steering ; whether he was heading north or 
 south I could not say. It was enough for me that 
 I was sitting opposite Florence Hawke, that my 
 knee touched the sacred hem — let me call it hem — 
 of her exquisitely-fitting dress, that I was breathing 
 the atmosphere that her lovely presence made 
 fragrant. I say that was enough for me. "What 
 did it matter how old red-and-gold on the bos 
 pulled the reins ? All that I desired was that he 
 should not be in a hurry to carry us home. The 
 drive was largely meant for me, I knew, and so 
 now and again I would admire the scenery and ask 
 whose house that was, and pretend to be interested 
 in the landscape. But I have no recollection 
 of the view. Nearly all that I can remember is 
 Florence, her shining winning eyes, the light upon 
 her hair, the delicate tint upon her face cast by the 
 crimson parasol in her hand, her unaffected
 
 68 jack's courtship. 
 
 laughter, and, best of all, shipmate, the real 
 pleasure she seemed to find in my company, as if 
 there was something in my talk that brightened up 
 her spirits. 
 
 And why not ? She loved Sydney, and I knew 
 the place well. She liked sailors, and I had been 
 one and was still one at heart. She had made 
 long voyages, and could understand me only as a 
 girl might who had rounded the Horn twice, and 
 knew what a four months' passage is. Might she 
 not, then, have found a kind of salt-water flavour 
 about me that would come as a novelty to her now 
 and awaken pleasant thoughts ? 
 
 By-and-by we came to a road that had two 
 branches, one leading to Clifton Lodge and the 
 other to my uncle's house ; and here Amelia asked 
 Miss Hawke to accompany us home to lunch. 
 
 "I hoped you and Mr. Seymour would have 
 lunched with me" said Miss Florence. 
 
 "As you please, dear," said Amelia, with the 
 good-natured indifference to things which I have 
 often taken notice of in fat people. 
 
 " Home," warbled the sweet girl to the resplen- 
 dent creature on the box ; and presently we arrived 
 at Clifton Lodge. 
 
 The old Arabian romancers were fond of bring- 
 ing young men of various social standing and 
 princesses together, and making the princesses 
 overwhelm the young men with favours and sweet-
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 69 
 
 meats, until the young men, bewildered by so 
 much kindness and so much beauty, came at last 
 to wonder whether they stood on their heels or 
 their heads. As I followed the girls into Clifton 
 Lodge I must say my feelings very much resembled 
 those of the Arabian young men. I had met a 
 young princess, and by a combination of events 
 •over which I had had no control, though I could 
 not have marshalled them to greater advantage to 
 myself had I had the ordering of them, I was 
 privileged to be in her company, and enjoy her 
 conversation and society so continuously as to 
 make the chances by which that spell of bliss came 
 about quite singular to remember. 
 
 Take the circumstances in their order : first, her 
 papa was away ; then there was the meeting her on 
 the previous night, and her stopping to dinner; 
 then there was the arrangement with Amelia to 
 hear the anthem, my stepping in and asking leave 
 to go too, the walk to the Cathedral, the sitting- 
 through the service, the drive, and now the invi- 
 tation to lunch. It was all perfectly correct. I 
 question if the most acidulated old lady living, 
 bless her ! could find an excuse for a scowl in an} r 
 point of this narrative of my meeting and acquain- 
 tance with Florence Hawke, so far. But neverthe- 
 less, this girl and I were so much together at the 
 first start that I say there was something singular 
 in it.
 
 70 jack's couktship. 
 
 She took ray cousin upstairs, and I was left; 
 alone in the drawing-room, where, after casting my 
 eyes round the spacious apartment and surveying 
 the costly ornaments, the resplendent chairs, and 
 the various other objects with much wonder and 
 without the least pleasure, I opened an album 
 bound in silver and ivory, with Alphonso Hawke's 
 crest (his crest !) — a kind of shield with something 
 that looked like a goose perched on top of it, its 
 wings extended and its bill cocked up as though it 
 were asking forgiveness for its absurd posture — and 
 looked at the photographs. Here I found correct 
 portraits of her gracious Majesty, likewise the late 
 Prince Consort and the Heir Apparent in Highland 
 costume; also several persons of quality; and 
 among these august and noble people there were 
 scattered likenesses of the Hawke family and the 
 most genteel of their friends. But the book was 
 very thinly furnished. It was a show-volume 
 meant for visitors. The likenesses of Hawke's 
 relations and early acquaintances and antipodean 
 friends were, I suppose, kept in a separate book 
 intended for the use of the family and the domestics 
 only. 
 
 But in looking over this album I came across a. 
 lovely profile likeness of Miss Florence. It was a 
 Paris photograph ; the shadowing and light very- 
 fine, the pose perfect in grace and refinement. 
 She was seated bending over a book, her hand to
 
 SOME SACKED MUSIC. 71 
 
 her forehead, and tresses of her hair delicately 
 fringing her finger-tips. As I sat entranced the 
 ladies entered. I was so full of the subject that I 
 immediately exclaimed, " What an exquisite portrait 
 this is, Miss Hawke ! " 
 
 They both came up to look. "When Miss Florence 
 saw that it was her likeness she slightly smiled, her 
 colour deepened. 
 
 " It is considered good," said she. 
 
 "It is perfect," said I rapturously. " Have you 
 one, Amelia ? " 
 
 " One of my own ? " asked Amelia. 
 
 " One of these ? " said I, and I pointed to the 
 lovely portrait. 
 
 "No, Jack," answered Amelia. 
 
 " I only had a dozen," said Miss Florence, " and 
 this, I believe, is the last of them. If you would like 
 to have it, Amelia, you are very welcome to it, dear." 
 
 " May I extract it at once ? " said I ; and without 
 waiting for permission I withdrew it tremblingly 
 but with extraordinary care, and said, " I will put 
 it in my pocket and keep it for you, Amelia," and 
 so saying I pocketed it. 
 
 All this was more significant than talking. 
 Amelia giggled, and did not know how to look nor 
 what to say. Miss Florence, on the other hand, 
 threw a veil of charming transparent tact over the 
 little interlude, by coming close to the table and 
 saying, whilst she pointed to the portraits, " That
 
 i'± JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 is my father, Mr. Seymour ; and that is my poor 
 mother," and as I stooped to peer at Mr. Alphonso 
 Hawke's features a footman announced luncheon. 
 
 Cold chicken and tongue, cutlets and claret and 
 champagne and salad — of such was the modest 
 repast composed, and I could not but think that 
 the splendidly-dressed flunkey who waited upon us 
 was ashamed of the poverty of the meal. The 
 table in its abridged form wanted at least five-and- 
 twenty people to fill it, and I should think that 
 seventy or eighty guests could very comfortably 
 have dined in the great room that formed the 
 ground floor of the largest wing of the house. The 
 walls were crowded with pictures, whether good or 
 bad I do not know, and the furniture was of very 
 magnificently carved oak, the back of the sideboard 
 being pretty nearly as tail as the room, and en- 
 riched with all sorts of cuttings. 
 
 Thought I, however old Hawke has earned his 
 money, plenty of it he must have ; and when I 
 looked at the lovable, beautiful creature who sat at 
 the head of the table, and whose figure was thrown 
 into sweet relief by the handsome livery of the 
 fellow who hung in the wake of her chair, and 
 reflected upon the fortune she was pretty sure to 
 step into — for so far as I had learnt there was but 
 another child — and considered the crowds of hand- 
 some young men and high-born young men — men, 
 who, if they had not the capacity of going forward
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 73 
 
 were capable of going back to any extent, who 
 would be only too happy to mingle their blood with 
 old Hawke's for the privilege of possessing his 
 lovely daughter and his Australian sovereigns — I 
 say that when I looked at her and thought thus, 
 my heart sank, a gloom fell upon my spirits, and I 
 felt disposed to curse the chance that had brought 
 me acquainted with my uncle, and led to my visit 
 to Clifton. 
 
 I>3'-and-by the footman went out of the room. I 
 was fumbling over a peach when Amelia said — quite 
 sequentially, for the conversation led up to the 
 remark — "Florence dear, are you glad or sorry 
 that Mr. Morecombe is coming ? " 
 
 "Now, you know, Amelia, that I don't care a 
 snap of the finger either one way or the other," 
 answered Miss Hawke, laughing. 
 
 " Is Mr. Morecombe a connection of yours, Miss 
 Hawke ? " said I, looking and talking innocently. 
 
 " Tell my cousin he would like to be, Florence," 
 exclaimed Amelia, chuckling, and squeezing grapes 
 into her mouth and looking at me with a kind of 
 leer, as if she wished me to know she approved of 
 my pretended ignorance. 
 
 " No, he is no connection," answered Miss Hawke 
 very quietly. " He is a son of Sir Pieginald More- 
 combe, a person my father has a high regard for. 
 He is coming here on a visit. Mr. Seymour, will 
 you please give me a peach ? "
 
 74 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 What was the meaning of the smile that flitted 
 over her face ? Could she read in me that I was 
 half mad to ask her if there was the faintest chance 
 in the world of her complying with her papa's 
 desire ? Well, I must have been an ass to suppose 
 that she could interpret my thoughts like that. Yet 
 my mind was so full at that moment that I could 
 not but suspect she had caught a glimpse of a 
 portion of what was whirling and simmering in it. 
 
 " What is young Mr. Morecombe ? " said I. " An 
 army man ? " 
 
 "He is nothing," said Miss Hawke. 
 
 "Very much nothing at all," observed Amelia. 
 
 I waited breathless, thinking that Miss Hawke 
 would speak in his favour. 
 
 "I am afraid he is rather a fool," said she; 
 whereupon I laughed at the top of my voice. 
 
 "Why were fools invented?" I exclaimed, as lively 
 as a sparrow on a sudden. " To mitigate any 
 spirit of discontent that might sometimes visit 
 monkeys ? Or as standards for measuring the 
 intellect of ladies ? " 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " cried Amelia. " Are 
 women only fit for fools ? " 
 
 " No, no ! " said I. " The women who are above 
 fools can't be measured by them. I am speaking 
 of women who allow fools to make love to them, and 
 who end in marrying fools." 
 
 " A girl may marry a fool and not know he is a
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 75 
 
 fool until she finds him her husband," said Miss 
 Hawke. 
 
 I wouldn't have contradicted her to save my life ; 
 but for all that I didn't agree with her. A man, it 
 is true, may prove a bigger fool after marriage to 
 his wife than he seemed before, because his wife 
 has had the chance of looking deeper into him ; but 
 if he was ever a fool at all, he was a fool before his 
 marriage, and the woman knew it. 
 
 " I should not object very much to stupid men," 
 said Amelia, " if they were foolishly amiable and 
 not generally conceited. I don't profess to know 
 much about Mr. Morecombe, but so far as I have 
 gone, what annoys me most in him is this : when 
 he puts his glass into his eye and looks around, 
 there can be no question that he thinks himself a 
 person of consequence, and that he embellishes life. 
 He ! Oh, my dear ! whenever I meet with what 
 papa calls a swell, I always wonder how many feet 
 high it would be necessary to mount into the air 
 to look down and not be able to see the noble 
 creatine." 
 
 " How terribly democratic they are in America, 
 Mr. Seymour ! " exclaimed Miss Hawke, laughing. 
 " In Australia, you know, we reverence pedigree." 
 
 "Yes, the Australians are a loyal people; they 
 believe in lords, and sing ' God save the Queen,' " 
 said I. "And don't you see, Amelia, that your 
 notion of going into the air and losing sight of the
 
 76 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 swell hits the man of genius too ? Would little 
 Thomas Moore have been visible three miles 
 down ? " 
 
 "Not his body, but the best part of him would," 
 said Miss Hawke, " for Amelia could take the 
 * Irish Melodies ' into the air with her." 
 
 I should have praised this as a neat turn in any- 
 body ; but coming from Miss Florence it sounded 
 to me incomparably fine. I was delighted, and 
 said it was worthy of Hook. (Why Hook ? I must 
 have meant Hood.) 
 
 " Pray, Miss Hawke," said I, " where is Flora? " 
 
 " Flora ? Oh, poor dear old Flora, I am sorry 
 to say, is not well. The housekeeper is nursing 
 her downstairs. But you are not sorry, are you ? 
 You think her vicious. Even had she been well I 
 should not have introduced her. And yet she 
 cannot bite. She has no teeth." 
 
 " You should order a false set for her," says 
 Amelia, with a sober face. 
 
 " I love poor old Flora," continued Miss Hawke, 
 in her tender voice. [Observe ! It was delightful 
 to hear her say " I love." Her lips were made to 
 form the words, her face to look the thought ex- 
 pressed ! ] " She was my mother's pet, and has 
 been mine ever since mamma died. It will grieve 
 me when poor Flora goes ; and I simply hate the 
 coachman for telling me this morning that he's 
 afraid she will not last much longer."
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 77 
 
 "Don't let the coachman distress you," said I 
 softly. " I have a poor opinion of coachmen as a 
 body. They know very little. Let them stick to 
 horses, and leave dogs alone." 
 
 " Jack, it is time to go," said Amelia, looking at 
 the clock. " Why, Florence, your papa and Mr. 
 Morecombe will be arriving at six o'clock and 
 finding us still at lunch." And up she jumped. 
 
 Miss Hawke begged her not to be in a hurry : it 
 was only half-past two. For my part I should 
 have been willing to go on stopping until I had 
 been turned out; but I could not stay without 
 Amelia, and Amelia declared she must go. So my 
 cousin went to put on her hat, and when that job 
 — which kept me waiting twenty minutes — was 
 performed, we bade Miss Hawke farewell, and 
 passed out of the house with all the state that 
 could be conferred upon us by a footman holding 
 open the door, a butler bowing, and another fellow 
 in livery in the distance looking on. 
 
 " I have thoroughly enjoyed my morning," said 
 I, as we walked in the direction of my uncle's 
 house. 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it," replied Amelia. 
 " We want you to enjoy yourself whilst you are 
 with us. And I hope you will not be in a hurry to 
 go." 
 
 "You are all delightfully kind and good. This 
 sort of life, I fear, will unfit me for lodgings in
 
 78 jack's courtship. 
 
 London. I am afraid it will make me want to get 
 married, Amelia." 
 
 "Well," says she, laughing, "you ought not to 
 find much trouble when you do make up your 
 mind. You are very impressionable — you will not 
 be hard to please, will you ? " 
 
 " Why do you say that ? Here am I twenty-five 
 years old, and I have never been in love yet." 
 
 " That may be," said she; "but you are in love 
 now, aren't you? " 
 
 I coloured, hesitated, and then exclaimed, "Yes, 
 I think I am — I am pretty sure I am. How lovely 
 she is ! how gentle ! how kind ! Who could help 
 loving her ? " 
 
 " That is what I mean by your being impres- 
 sionable," said Amelia, laughing pleasantly. "You 
 arrived here last evening ; it is now about three 
 o'clock, and in that time you have fallen in love." 
 
 " Well, don't make a joke of it, Amelia. If it 
 isn't permissible to fall in love with a girl like 
 Florence Hawke almost as fast as one can look at 
 her, why should nature allow the emotion to exist ? 
 Eh, I think that's a puzzler, isn't it? " and I heard 
 myself laughing harshly. 
 
 " I am not making a joke of it, Jack," answered 
 Amelia. " I believe if I were a man I should fall 
 in love with Florence myself. I don't mean to 
 say that she is so wondrously beautiful as the gen- 
 tlemen profess to find her ; but she has a sweet
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 79 
 
 character, and if I were a man that is what I 
 should like best in a wife." 
 
 "Yes, and that is exactly what I like best in 
 Florence " (what a horrible hypocrite I was ! ). 
 And then a cloud gathering upon my brow, "I 
 wish," I mumbled moodily, " I had never seen her. 
 I shall have her on the brain, and no good can 
 come of it. Her father has got hold of the tiller 
 and will steer her as he wants, and the very sweet- 
 ness of character you speak of is just an assurance 
 that she will answer her helm. Besides, what 
 chance should I stand, in any case ? " And with 
 my stick I let fly at the twigs of the hedge past 
 which we were walking. 
 
 " I think she is disposed to like you, do you 
 know, Jack ? " said Amelia. 
 
 " What put that into your head ? " 
 
 " We were talking of you in the bedroom, and 
 she said she enjoyed your frank manners. It was 
 like going a voyage to sit with you, she said." 
 
 " Ah ! " 
 
 " She also observed that the difference between a 
 young man like Mr. Morecombe and a young man 
 like you was the difference between the hot atmo- 
 sphere of an evening party and the bright breeze of 
 the sea-shore. No," she continued, " I'm wrong. 
 It was I who said that. But she agreed with me 
 so thoroughly that it was just the same as if she 
 had said it."
 
 80 jack's courtship. 
 
 " What else did she say ? " 
 
 " Why," she answered, trying to remember, " I 
 think she then changed the subject by speaking of 
 her dog." 
 
 "May I smoke a cigar?" I asked. She gave 
 me permission. "Can you explain," I asked, "how 
 it is that Mr. Alphonso Hawke, if he is so very 
 anxious to marry his daughter, both daughters 
 I presume, to blood, should be living here instead 
 of in London, where his means should enable 
 him to get the class of man he wants about 
 him ? " 
 
 " You say both daughters ; but Emily Hawke is 
 never likely to marry," answered Amelia. " The 
 poor thing is little better than an invalid. She 
 suffers from a weak or curved spine, and her chest 
 is affected. Periodically she visits some fashionable 
 doctor in London, and that is why, I believe, she 
 is away with her father now. I am sure I cannot 
 tell why Mr. Hawke does not live in London. 
 Perhaps he is not so very sure of being able to get 
 the society he likes. This place agrees with him 
 and Emily, he told papa. Besides, if Mr. More- 
 combe comes up to his idea of an eligible young 
 man, then, as he has got him, and as one is 
 enough — for we are not Mormons at Clifton, 
 Jack — he may think it would only be a waste of 
 money to live in London for the sake of getting 
 others."
 
 SOME SACRED MUSIC. 81 
 
 " What do you mean by got him, Amelia ? " I 
 rattled out. " You don't mean to say that his 
 marriage with Miss Florence is settled ? " 
 
 " I believe it is in Mr. Hawke's mind, and no 
 doubt in young Morecoinbe's. But not in Flo- 
 rence's ; she is not likely to accept a man she can 
 ridicule." 
 
 "That's no guarantee!" I muttered. "But 
 gracious mercy ! if it is only a question of blood 
 with Mr. Hawke, cannot he get higher than young 
 Morecombe ? " 
 
 " Yes, but he is evidently satisfied with the blood 
 of the Morecombes." 
 
 " I wish I could spill it ! I wish some one would 
 shed it ! " I exclaimed. " If the father attacks his 
 daughter on one side and the representative of the 
 blood of the Morecombes attacks her on the other, 
 she must yield : she is doomed ; her amiability 
 will be her fatality. She will be crushed under the 
 nuns of her own good nature." 
 
 "Is it not a little early for you to begin to tear 
 your hair, Jack ? " said Amelia, laughing heartily. 
 " You really cannot have made up your mind upon 
 the state of your heart yet. Wait a little." 
 
 "Whatever may be the state of my heart, 
 Amelia," said I, " I have bared it to you, and 
 you will respect the solemn secret you have beheld 
 in it." 
 
 "Oh, certainly!" 
 
 VOL. I. °
 
 82 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " You will not breathe a word of this conversa- 
 tion to your papa or mamma ? " 
 
 " Not a syllable. There is nothing to breathe." 
 And as she said this, with difficulty preserving her 
 gravity, we entered the grounds of my uncle's 
 house.
 
 ( 33 ) 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 MR. ALPHONSO HAWKE. 
 
 It is a mistake to ask a woman not to breathe a 
 syllable. She cannot be trusted, least of all with 
 another person's love- secret. She can keep her 
 own, but not yours or mine. And indeed very often 
 she cannot keep her own. I remember a young 
 gentleman telling me that, having fallen in love 
 with a girl, he proposed to her in a very neat letter 
 that had cost him nearly a quire of expensive 
 paper. She answered by return, declining his 
 offer, hoping he would forgive her, and that they 
 would continue friends. She had destroyed his 
 letter, she said; and as she did not mean to breathe 
 a syllable of what had passed between them, she 
 hoped he would be silent too. Meanwhile he was 
 to be sure to come to their dance next so and so. 
 Well, his heart having been declined, it suited him 
 very well to be silent ; and nothing but his faith 
 in her promise of secrecy, coupled with his anxiety 
 to gaze on her once more, could have furnished
 
 84 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 him with sufficient fortitude to present himself at 
 the dance given by the young lady's mamma. 
 The behaviour of the numerous family satisfied 
 him that nobody knew he had proposed to the girl, 
 and he danced in a collected and easy posture of 
 mind. But what was the truth? He ultimately 
 won the girl's love, and when they were married 
 she said, " Of course, Montague, I showed your 
 letter to papa and mamma, and my brothers and 
 sisters, and poor Aunt Jane — you remember dear 
 Aunt Jane ? — for was it to be supposed, Montague, 
 that I could hide such a serious thing as an offer 
 of marriage from my family ? " 
 
 Amelia served me in that way. She went and 
 told Sophie that I had confessed, "Yes, my dear, 
 confessed — only think ! " to being deeply in love 
 with Florence Hawke. Sophie gave the news to 
 her mother, who handed it on to my uncle. No 
 doubt they all pledged one another to secrecy. 
 But my uncle could not hold his tongue ; and on 
 the evening of the day on which I had lunched 
 with Miss Hawke, the ladies having retired to rest, 
 and he and I being alone, sitting in the open 
 window and smoking cigars, he spoke as follows : — 
 
 " So, my boy" (and this was the delicate way 
 he approached the subject), " they tell me you are 
 head over ears in love with Florence Hawke.'* 
 
 " Who are they ? " I observed. 
 
 "All your relations," he answered. "But why
 
 MR. ALPHONSO HAWKE. 85 
 
 d'ye want to keep it a secret ? And yet I don't 
 know. You're right to be 'sly if you're sincere ; 
 for if Hawke twigs your sentiment, stand by ! 
 But I say, Jack, how on earth can you be in love 
 with a girl you have only met once or twice, and 
 have only heard of during the last twenty-four 
 hours ? " 
 
 " I am sure I can't tell you," said I. 
 
 " Why, it took me eight months to make up my 
 mind to offer for your aunt — a handsomer woman 
 then than Florence is now, make no mistake about 
 that, sir. A proper female ; a lady in heart and 
 a woman in beauty, young man." 
 
 " That she is still," said I. 
 
 " Yes, every inch of her. Eight months, I say, 
 it took me to resolve ; and here are you ripe in less 
 than twenty-four hours for the parson to operate 
 on. But this is the age of locomotives — the sixty - 
 mile-an-hour epoch ; and a correct portrait of the 
 period should represent it as pelting before a 
 hurricane, holding its gray hair on with both 
 hands." 
 
 " I think you forge ahead a trifle too fast," said 
 I. "I greatly admire Miss Hawke, and so do you." 
 He nodded. " But when you speak of my being 
 desperately in love you're giving a character to 
 my admiration that I really can't say it yet 
 possesses." 
 
 "Well, my lad," said he, "I don't know what's
 
 86 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 in your mind, nor does it matter. But I'll tell 
 you this : you'll be a lucky fellow if you win her. 
 I should say she was good for ten thousand pounds, 
 if a penny, with more to come. Moreover, she's 
 a lady, which is a fine thing for one's friends, and 
 a beauty, which is a fine thing for oneself. Any 
 help I can give you, Jack, you may command. 
 Your aunt may hang a bit in the wind, as she's 
 got to work the sense of duty to her neighbour off 
 her mind; but your cousins are at your service, 
 and with a pair of clever girls to do your love- 
 errands you should be able to out -weather old Nick 
 himself, where he Florence's papa." 
 
 Though I could talk as offhandedly as he, I was 
 not without a stock of native modesty ; and we 
 were now upon a subject which sentiment had to 
 a certain extent consecrated, and which I felt ought 
 to be approached hat in hand, so that I did not 
 much care to humour my uncle's irreverent, com- 
 mercial, and half-jeering allusions to it. I therefore 
 without much trouble drew him away from the 
 subject, and was presently splitting my sides over 
 some capital Yankee stories he related ; though 
 when I went to my bedroom I hung for a long 
 half-hour over Miss Florence's photograph, and 
 when in bed lay so great a while full of thought, 
 that the sparrows were twittering on the trees when 
 I fell asleep. Was I to get no rest at Clifton ? 
 
 Next morninef I took mv cousins for a drive in
 
 MR. ALPHONSO HAWKE. 87 
 
 the phaeton, and when we were fairly under way I 
 said to Amelia : — 
 
 " Do you remember promising not to breathe 
 a syllable ? " 
 
 "Of what?" asked she. 
 
 " Of our talk yesterday when we returned from 
 Clifton Lodge." 
 
 "Yes; and I kept my word. Sophie asked 
 questions, particularly if you were not in love with 
 Florence, and I said yes, you were." 
 
 " And why shouldn't we know ? " exclaimed 
 good-natured Sophie. " We are naturally interested 
 in you and in Florence too." 
 
 I had to thank her for this, which of course put 
 an end to my reproaches. 
 
 " By-the-by, Jack," said Amelia, " I forgot to 
 ask you for Florence's portrait, which you very 
 kindly put into your pocket to keep for me." 
 
 " I'll go on keeping it for you," I replied. " You 
 may trust me ; it will be quite safe." 
 
 Both the girls laughed, and Amelia said : — 
 
 " I did not tell you, Sophie, that when Jack was 
 admiring Florence's portrait she turned to me and 
 asked me if I would like it. Do you think she was 
 sure it would find its way through me to Jack or 
 through Jack to me? Upon my word, she is a 
 deep Little thing." 
 
 " Is she a flirt ? " I asked, not much relishing 
 my cousin's applause of her.
 
 88 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 "If she were should I tell you?" answered 
 Amelia, laughing loudly. " No, no ; there is such 
 a thing as esprit des corps among women : we may 
 sneer at one another among ourselves, but right- 
 minded females never expose the sex's infirmities 
 to the common enemy." 
 
 "Besides, Jack," says Sophie, "no girl is sup- 
 posed to know whether another is a flirt or not. 
 It is for men to make the discovery." 
 
 Well, to be sure all this was very twopenny talk 
 — the chatter of three young relations driving along 
 a road in a phaeton ; but it pleased and amused 
 me. I found that these girls enjoyed conversing 
 on the subject of love, and that they were quite 
 disposed to encourage me to make a fool of myself 
 over Miss Hawke. There are women who like to 
 set people quarrelling with one another, and there 
 are women who like to set people making love to 
 one another. My cousins were of this order, and 
 their papa perhaps knew their peculiarity when he 
 spoke of them as a couple of clever girls, willing to 
 run on any errands I might want to put them to. 
 
 And, upon my word, if I were a girl I should 
 think that the next best fun to having a sweetheart 
 is to act as factotum to a pair of lovers ; to enjoy 
 the confidence of both ; to patch up damaged feel- 
 ings ; to convey letters, and see the comedy, as I 
 may say, from the wings instead of from the front. 
 But it is a woman's business, and to perform her
 
 MB. ALPHONSO HAWKE. S9 
 
 part to her own and the satisfaction of others, she 
 not only requires plenty of leisure, but she must 
 be emotional if not hysterical, and exceedingly 
 amiable ; nor, perhaps, can she be held absolutely 
 qualified for the arduous post unless she is able to 
 show that she has been in love herself, and knows 
 what blighted feelings are. 
 
 We returned home at half-past twelve, and as I 
 drove up to the door I saw my uncle walking under 
 the trees with a tall man wearing a beard, his 
 upper lip shaved. 
 
 " It's Mr. Hawke ! " said Amelia ; and when the 
 girls alighted they went up to him and shook 
 hands. I followed when the groom was near 
 enough to catch the reins I flung to him, and 
 my uncle introduced me. Mr. Hawke made a very 
 stately bow. This was evidently the first he had 
 heard of me ; and when he regained his rarnrod 
 erectness he scrutinized me with as keen a pair of 
 eyes as were ever levelled at a youth. He was a 
 tolerably good-looking man, tall and well dressed. 
 He was certainly very different from the burly 
 colonial I had somehow pictured him. He carried 
 a very grave expression of face, and the skirts of 
 his coat being long and his beard hiding the 
 furniture of his neck, he might have been mistaken 
 for a clergyman. A pair of gold eye-glasses dangled 
 upon his ample surface of waistcoat, a large 
 diamond flashed upon one hand that was un-
 
 90 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 gloved, and in the other hand was a stout cane 
 adorned with a heavy gold knob. I noticed that 
 he spoke slowly, with a degree of deliberation 
 that was both tiresome and disturbing, as it 
 suggested not only a solicitude as to his choice 
 of words, but misgivings as to his capacity of 
 delivering them when selected. 
 
 Sophie asked after his daughter Emily. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Seymour, she is as well as 
 we have a right to expect. Sir Timothy Tomson 
 thinks that no change of air is at present necessary. 
 The journey home fatigued her — aw — poor thing, 
 but a night's rest has, I am happy to say, restored 
 her." And then addressing me, "What do you 
 think of Clifton, sir ? Is this your first — aw — 
 your first visit ? " 
 
 "It is," I replied. "I only arrived the night 
 before last ; but what I have seen delights me." 
 
 " And mind you, Mr. Hawke," says my uncle, 
 "my nephew Jack's opinion is not to be despised, 
 for he has visited Sydney Harbour." 
 
 " Oh, you know Sydney ? — indeed ! " exclaimed 
 the old fellow, as if my knowing Sydney rather 
 disconcerted him. "Pray how do you know 
 Sydney?" 
 
 " As a sailor, sir." 
 
 "Oh, as a sailor! Yes, just so. You will not 
 — aw — have much aquaintance with it. My 
 recollection is that sailors are only allowed to
 
 MK. ALPHONSO HAWKE. 91 
 
 go ashore — I believe — aw — that is the expression 
 — to go ashore at night, as they have to work 
 all day." 
 
 "Quite right," said I; "I see that you know 
 something about the nautical calling." 
 
 "Not much, not much, indeed," he replied, 
 never relaxing his distressing gravity, and speak- 
 ing as if on the whole any knowledge of the 
 nautical calling was calculated to lead to social 
 prejudice : " having lived in Australia I have — 
 aw — had necessarily to cross the ocean to reach 
 England, and have had opportunities of inspecting 
 well — aw — perhaps not of inspecting — of witness- 
 ing " 
 
 " In short," cut in my uncle unceremoniously, 
 "you have seen enough of Jack's life to know 
 something about it ? " 
 
 "Aw — yes," replied Mr. Hawke, giving a little 
 scowl round to let us understand that he had 
 been at no loss for words. "You didn't, perhaps," 
 continued he, addressing me, " know Sir Wilkinson 
 Smith at Sydney?" 
 
 " No," said I. 
 
 "Nor his chawming lady? Who, by the way, 
 Mr. Seymour," speaking to my uncle, "turns out 
 to be a connection of Lord Wear, my friend Sir 
 Eeginald Morecombe's cousin." 
 
 "We should call that a coincidence in Canada," 
 said my uncle, giving me a look. " By the way,
 
 92 jack's couetship. 
 
 Mr. Hawke, have you brought Mr. Morecorabe 
 along with you to Clifton ? " 
 
 Mr. Hawke answered yes, and that he and 
 Florence were out riding, a piece of news that 
 caused Sophie to steal a peep at me, whilst it 
 excited in the depths of my soul an evil wish 
 that the fellow would break his neck before he 
 got home. 
 
 We stood all five of us conversing for some 
 time under the trees. It did not take me long 
 to discover that Mr. Alphonso Hawke was a 
 pompous old bore, with an early training and 
 history of which he was ashamed, and to the 
 veneering of which he was devoting his declining 
 years. I was struck by his way of speaking, the 
 cautious manner in which he groped along with 
 his tongue, saying aw, and ah, merely to enable 
 him to pause and make sure, and the fine airs 
 he put on (which he may have seen and admired 
 in Sir "Wilkinson Smith and his chawming lady, 
 a connection of the Morecombes) when he addressed 
 my cousins. His want of ease was the most 
 harassing part of him. He was indeed one of 
 those men to whom you long to say, " For good- 
 ness sake try not to be genteel, and pray cease 
 to act as a person of breeding. Drop an h, sir, 
 for the comfort of your friends, now and then. 
 Kindly be vulgar and natural." 
 
 At last he went away, declining my uncle's
 
 MR. ALPHOXSO HAWKE. 03 
 
 invitation to stop to lunch with a large and 
 portly wave of the hand, and a smile that 
 exposed what I suspected then and know now to 
 have been a splendid set of false teeth. He gave 
 the ladies an immense bow as he quitted them, 
 and I watched with an emotion, almost of awe, 
 the solemnity of his tread and the full-blown 
 dignity of his consequential carriage as he walked 
 by my uncle's side to the gate. 
 
 "Well, Jack," said my uncle, returning, and 
 looking at me with a grin, "what d'ye think of 
 your future father-in-law ? " 
 
 "Hush, papa! for gracious goodness sake," 
 cried Amelia in a terrified voice, casting her eyes 
 in the direction in which old Hawke had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " Tut, tut," said my uncle, " he's out of hearing, 
 silly." 
 
 " He fits the character you gave him to a hair," 
 said I; "he is a prig." 
 
 " Ay, a prig," exclaimed my uncle: "but isn't 
 he a fine specimen of one ? isn't he worth knowing 
 as a prig ? You're not going to meet with such a 
 sample as that every day, my hearty. May I be 
 shivered if the sight of him alone isn't worth a 
 long journey." 
 
 "Really, papa," said Sophie remonstratively, 
 " he is our friend, dear. He is Florence's father. 
 If we cannot speak well of him, let us say nothing.'"
 
 84 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 "True," said I, "he is Florence's papa; we 
 must speak well of him." 
 
 " Sophie, my love," said my uncle with fine 
 gravity, " let us, as the moralist says, clear our 
 minds of cant. Who would care to have, who 
 would be bothered with aquaintances, if the know- 
 ing them were conditional on never saying anything 
 ill-natured behind their backs ? Do you think 
 Hawke don't sneer at me f Do you suppose that 
 he doesn't ridicule my wideawake, the cut of my 
 boots, my indifference to the aristocracy as lords 
 and ladies — not, Jack, as men and women ? No, I 
 can respect honest people even when they are titled. 
 But though Hawke sneers at me, he asks me -to 
 dine with him : and though I laugh at his cheap 
 pretensions, I accept his invitation and return it." 
 
 "It's the way of the world, Sophie," said I. 
 " But I own that Mr. Hawke is a bigger disappoint- 
 ment than I expected. How the dickens came 
 his most lovely daughter to be a relative of his ? " 
 
 " I say, Jack," cried my uncle rather maliciously, 
 " did you hear him say that Florence and young 
 Morecombe were out riding ? Man, you must keep 
 your weather eye lifting. Don't let this be a stern- 
 chase, for the pretty little craft will have been 
 boarded by the fellow who's already abreast of her 
 before you can come up with her." 
 
 "Pray don't make my admiration of the girl too 
 significant," said I, not liking this banter at all.
 
 MB. ALPHONSO HAWKE. 95 
 
 " If Morecombe boards her, it will be because she 
 allows him to do so. And if I don't overhaul her, 
 it may be because I reckon my spars more valuable 
 than the chase's capture." 
 
 " Don't talk Greek ! " exclaimed Sophie, who had 
 listened eagerly. ' What with boarding and over- 
 hauling and stern-chasing and such stuff, it is 
 impossible to find out your meaning." 
 
 " There is no meaning to find out," said I. 
 And here my aunt stood up in the window and 
 called out that lunch was ready.
 
 ( 96 ) 
 
 CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 
 
 Some days after this we went to dine at Clifton 
 Lodge. My going fell out in this way. 
 
 Miss Hawke called one morning to ask the 
 Seymours to dine en famille on such and such an 
 evening. I had taken my uncle's little mare for a 
 canter, and when I returned and heard that Miss 
 Hawke had called, I could have pulled a handful of 
 hair out of my head with vexation. It was a week 
 since I had set eyes on her. In vain had I sneaked 
 out when nohody was looking, and hung about the 
 roads which I thought she was bound to pass along, 
 whether riding or driving or walking. To no pur- 
 pose, I say. And then all on a sudden she calls 
 and I miss her ! 
 
 However, I smothered my feelings, and asked in 
 a collected voice the reason of her visit. It was 
 Sophie to whom I put this question, and we were 
 alone. 
 
 " She called to ask us to dinner."
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 97 
 
 " Oh indeed ! " said I, brightening up. " What's 
 the date?" 
 
 Sophie named it. 
 
 " Did she bring any news ? " said I. " Anything 
 fresh going forward at Clifton Lodge ? " 
 
 " Oh, she brought no news," says Sophie. 
 
 " Nothing about young Morecombe ? She'd tell 
 you, wouldn't she, if he had proposed ? " 
 
 " She'd tell nie, I believe, if she had accepted 
 him," she answered, "but I don't think she will 
 accept him — at least, I hope she won't." 
 
 I plucked at my bit of a moustache — there was 
 not enough of it to de-sailorize my countenance — 
 and said : " Mr. Hawke is very polite to invite me. 
 When I met him the other day I couldn't help fancy- 
 ing that he eyed me as if I might be a youth that 
 would admire his daughter : and I suppose admira- 
 tion for her in any other man than Mr. Morecombe 
 would be worse than poison to the old gentleman." 
 
 "To be candid, Jack," says Sophie, with an air 
 of reluctance in her gentle manner, " Florence did 
 not include you — I mean she did not mention your 
 name. She asked mamma and papa and Amelia 
 and me." 
 
 "Oh!" said I. 
 
 " But it doesn't in the least signify," continued 
 she. " It was a pure oversight on her part. Of 
 course you'll go ? " 
 
 " Go ! " said I. " Go to Jericho, you mean. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 What ! go where I am not asked ? Why, I'd rather 
 hang myself up hy the neck until I was dead, other- 
 wise what mercy should I expect for my soul ? " 
 " Nonsense," said Sophie. " You will go." 
 Upon my word I was so angry, so disappointed, 
 that I was ungallant enough to wish that my affec- 
 tionate cousin had been a man, merely to ease my 
 mind by telling her I would see her, etc. Observ- 
 ing my temper and vexation — and I believe this 
 did more to open her kind eyes to the state of my 
 heart than had I sat down and indited volumes 
 about it — she dropped the subject and so did I, 
 so far as words went : but I very well remember 
 carrying it into the grounds, up into a corner, into 
 a summer arbour, where, armed with a large pipe, 
 I turned it over, kicked it, ground it under heel, 
 and, as I actually endeavoured to make myself 
 believe, buried the mutilated thing along with the 
 imbecile sentiment that had kept me feverish and 
 foolish ever since the hour I had first entered my 
 uncle's house. 
 
 Of course I was unreasonable. Wliat right had 
 I to expect to be included in the invitation to dine ? 
 Who was I that she should trouble herself even to 
 remember that such a person existed when I was 
 out of sight ? And yet I felt 'that it would have 
 done me good to have expended myself in an Irish 
 riot, for the sake and pleasure of knocking anybody 
 over the head. Was her nature perfidious ? Was
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 99 
 
 all her talk about Mr. Morecombe being a fool and 
 the like fudge ? It was ; I say, I feared it was, 
 and I ground my heel into the soil of the summer 
 arbour. 
 
 "Well, in this posture of mind was I sitting, 
 smoking and writhing, when I heard Sophie calling 
 "Jack! Jack!" 
 
 " Halloo ! " I grumbled. 
 
 " Where are you, Jack ? " she cried. 
 
 "Here," said I, and I went out of the arbour 
 that she might see me. 
 
 She came running along, red with heat and 
 radiant with pleasure, and flourished a little square 
 of gray paper. I saw the gilt edge of it sparkle, 
 and observed that it bore the creases of a cocked- 
 hat note. 
 
 " Read that, you foolish mope ! " says she ; 
 and she put the letter into my hand. It was as 
 fragrant as jessamine ; it was adorned with a crest 
 in blue and gold, and the crest embodied a goose 
 with its bill cocked up ; the paper was ribbed and 
 thick, delightful to feel— a truly lovable thing to 
 handle. The handwriting was clear and decisive : 
 it might have passed for a man's. Thus ran the 
 missive : — 
 
 "Dearest Sophie, 
 
 "When I arrived home after calling 
 upon you, it flashed upon me that I had omitted to
 
 100 jack's courtship. 
 
 ask you to bring your cousin, Mr. Jack Seymour, 
 next, Thursday evening. I am sure I cannot account 
 for this foolish and most unintentional omission, 
 unless I put it down to my habit of thinking of 
 your family as consisting of four only. I am sorry 
 to say that poor Flora is much icorsc. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Florence Hawke. 
 
 "P.S. — Do not let your cousin know that I for- 
 got him." 
 
 " There," said Sophie, as I looked up from the 
 letter, " you can pin that to her photograph and 
 keep it." 
 
 A dark suspicion entered my mind. Had Sophie 
 written to ask her to invite me ? had she requested 
 her to write as if the after-thought were her own ? 
 No : it needed but very little reflection to see that 
 there had not been time enough to admit of such 
 a stratagem. It was a genuine letter, and yet I 
 would not appear too well pleased either. 
 
 "How do you know that I want to keep it?" 
 said I, dangling the note. 
 
 " Then tear it up," said Sophie, with a laugh of 
 bland defiance. 
 
 " That wouldn't be polite," I replied. " I never 
 act impulsively," and so saying I put it in my 
 pocket.
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 101 
 
 " Of course now you will join us ? " said Sophie. 
 
 "Why should I? don't you relish dignity in 
 a connection ? She was not polite to forget me, 
 and there is really a limit to forgiveness," said 
 I, in a mode that still simmered, though I admit 
 that the fires were drawn. 
 
 "Well," said Sophie, "you have Florence's 
 invitation : she cannot do more than ask you, 
 although I believe men would like women to go 
 on their knees to them even when they granted 
 favours, not to mention receiving them ; and I am 
 quite rare, Jack, that you will do the thing that 
 best pleases you," and she turned to leave me. 
 
 Her speech was made painfully sarcastic by her 
 emphasis on the words granted and receiving, and 
 sarcasm in a fat, affectionate, amiable woman falls 
 on a man's intelligence like a box on the ear falls 
 on the head. I seized her hand. 
 
 " Dear Sophie — I'm an ass," I exclaimed. " I 
 have allowed my feelings — her omission of my 
 name, do you see — the sort of liking she seemed 
 to show for me — in fact, I ought to have stopped 
 in London." 
 
 My cousin melted like a snowflake on a river, 
 one moment white, though I cannot say that at 
 the next she was gone for ever. 
 
 " No, Jack," said she. " You wrong yourself. 
 There is nothing wonderful in your liking, even in 
 your loving, Florence Hawke. She likes you — she
 
 102 jack's courtship. 
 
 told Amelia so. "Why shouldn't her liking become 
 love ? You must not misjudge her. Suppose she 
 purposely omitted your name in her invitation 2 
 it might have been from fear of her papa. But 
 look how honest she is ! when she gets home she 
 remembers the omission with pain, says, ' No ! I 
 will defy papa in this matter,' and she sits down 
 and writes the letter you have in your pocket. 
 How can you sneer at her ? " 
 
 "Sneer ! " I shouted. 
 
 " I mean, how can you talk about your dignity ? 
 Poor girl ! You know she stands alone. She has 
 to cope with her father's wishes, and the attentions 
 of the wretched creature her papa wants her to 
 marry. No, Jack ; if I were you I should feel 
 grateful for the spirit that prompted her to write 
 that letter, and I should certainly try to please her 
 by making her understand how deeply you admire 
 her courage — which you can only do by dining at 
 Clifton Lodge on Thursday." 
 
 " Say no more, Sophie," cried I abjectly. " I 
 shall dine, trust me." 
 
 She gave me a kindly nod and went away, 
 rather hurriedly, I thought; perhaps to conceal 
 her mirth, but in that particular period of my life 
 I was a very suspicious man, as what youth is not 
 who believes he is in love ? When she was out of 
 sight I drew forth the letter, read it over five or six 
 times, kissed the signature, and perpetrated several
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 103 
 
 extravagances of a like kind. I had it by heart in 
 a very short time, and went on repeating sentence 
 after sentence in the hope of finding a deeper 
 meaning than lay on the surface. The passage 
 that pleased me best was the postscript : "Do not 
 let your cousin know that I forgot him." It 
 showed that her dog was not the last thought in 
 her mind when she wrote. 
 
 I look back sometimes at myself, ensconced in 
 that summer-house reading Miss Hawke's letter, 
 and putting it to my lips and acting like a 
 Frenchman in love in a stage play. That par- 
 ticular recollection somehow makes all that 
 followed so queer, so romantic, so wild to me as 
 I view the incidents now, that there are times 
 when I can hardly persuade myself that what I 
 took part in was not a portion of another life, like 
 one of those fancies which sometimes seize one, 
 of having acted or done something or undergone 
 some experience in another sphere of being in 
 which one flourished before one was born. But 
 let me fire away, for at this rate we shall never 
 get out of Clifton and afloat. 
 
 Thursday evening came, and in all my time I 
 never shaved myself with keener solicitude nor 
 dressed myself with livelier anxiety. Will it be 
 credited that I actually kept the ladies waiting ? 
 Think of a young fellow who for years had been 
 accustomed to tumble out of his bunk and bundle
 
 104 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 on deck a couple of minutes after the cry of 
 " Eight bells ! d'ye hear the news below there, 
 sleepers ? " had harshly thundered down the 
 hatchway, who thought himself fortunate if he 
 could get a good wash-down once a week, and 
 who would roll into his clothes without taking 
 thought of his appearance — think of him, I say, 
 debasing his old sea-traditions by a trick of vile 
 coxcombry ! Yes, I positively kept my aunt and 
 cousins waiting, so that my uncle was obliged to 
 come to my door and beat upon it, and shout 
 " Jack ! damme man, it's not a dance but a 
 dinner, d'ye hear ? and it's not polite to be late 
 when you're asked to dine." 
 
 Of course I rushed out and profusely apologized, 
 declaring that my watch was wrong, and so forth ; 
 but my uncle would not have that. " No, no,'' 
 says he ; " it isn't your watch that's out ; it's 
 another piece of mechanism that's gone wrong," 
 and he smote himself upon his breast, and winked 
 at me with all his might. 
 
 "You look very nice, Mr. Jack," said my aunt ; 
 she always gave me the Mister. 
 
 It was the first time they had seen me in tails, 
 and upon my word I think I may say without 
 affectation that the dress-coat, shiny boots, white 
 tie and lavender kid gloves, in which I had 
 anxiously clothed myself, made me a very tolerable 
 figure. My uncle was in black, and wore an open
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 105 
 
 frock coat. He began to inveigh against the 
 waiter's costume, as lie styled the dress I had 
 figged myself out in. "It may please those who 
 like it," said he ; " but you'll never catch me in 
 a garment that's neither a jacket nor a coat. 
 "What ? Sir, the tailor who invented that dress 
 had an improper mind. If I am to let the world 
 know what sort of figure I possess, give me tights 
 at once. Let me dance in shorts and a jersey." 
 
 My aunt made faces at him, and tried to change 
 the subject by bidding me take notice of the moon 
 — or what there was of it ; did it betoken wet ? 
 she wondered. (We were in the carriage, and 
 "rowling along," as Pat sa}'s; there were five of 
 us, and a tight fit it was for me between my two 
 cousins). But my uncle would take no hints. He 
 went on abusing tail-coats until his denunciations 
 were cut short by the carriage stopping at Clifton 
 Lodge. 
 
 We were punctual enough : half-past seven. A 
 most lovely evening it was, full of dew and 
 •fragrance, with a noble sunset in the west, and 
 fitter for a ramble among the hedges than a 
 guzzling match among hot soups and meats. As 
 I followed my cousins into the hall my heart beat 
 a trifle faster than usual. It was not only that I 
 was to meet the girl that had taken sovereign 
 command of my thoughts ; I w T as going to find her 
 in the company of the fellow her father had chosen
 
 106 jack's courtship. 
 
 for her, and whom, by importunities and the 
 peculiar kind of moral pressure which fond parents 
 know how to] exert on their beloved children w\hilst 
 something they want done remains undone, he 
 would ultimately, no doubt, induce or compel her 
 to marry. 
 
 The footman flung open the drawing-room door, 
 and announced us, and in we went. We found 
 Mr. Hawke and his two daughters alone. With 
 winning and delightful grace (of course, I always 
 praise her, you say : but she deserved it, I tell 
 you) Miss Florence received us, kissed Sophie and 
 Amelia, but I could not help fancying there was 
 a little timidity in the way in which she shook 
 hands with me. Had Sophie told her that she had 
 shown me her letter, and that I had stored it away 
 along with her picture? Upon my word, it is 
 impossible to tell not only what girls do, but what 
 they don't tell one another. 
 
 "Let me introduce you to my sister," said she, 
 and she led me up to Miss Emily Hawke, whose 
 invalidism was sufficiently denned by her wan face. 
 She would be about seventeen years old, and she 
 had old Hawdie's features attenuated by ill health, 
 and refined by the circumstance of her not belong- 
 ing to old Hawke's sex. My aunt was at her side, 
 full of sympathy and questions. So I went over to 
 Mr. Hawke and my uncle, leaving Miss Florence 
 deep in conversation with my cousins, who I could
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 107 
 
 hear exclaiming " Oh ! " " Poor thing ! " " How 
 dreadful ! " and so forth. 
 
 Our host was in full puff, silk waistcoat, velvet 
 collar to his tail-coat, plenty of jewellery, highly 
 scented, and looking larger and more portly and 
 consequential than 1 had first found him. He was 
 telling my uncle that Sir Hugo Perch and her 
 ladyship, Sir Hugo's wife — " a connection of the 
 Battleabbeys, Mr. Seymour — chawming people " — - 
 were to have come to dinner, but that in consequence 
 of something or other, they — aw — were obliged at 
 the last moment, etc. 
 
 " So we shall be quite ' ong famille,' " says he, 
 glancing from my uncle's coat to mine. " Indeed, 
 rather more so than I had anticipated, for I — aw — • 
 I regret to say a most painful, really a most 
 painful, incident happened this afternoon. You — \ 
 aw — you remember my daughter Florence's " 
 
 Here he was interrupted by my cousins and Miss 
 Hawke joining us. 
 
 " Oh, papa ! " cried Sophie, " what do you think? 
 Florence's poor, dear, darling old Flora is dead." 
 
 " Dead ! " ejaculated my uncle, not quite know- 
 ing what else to say. 
 
 " Worse than dead," said Amelia. u Killed, 
 papa ! " 
 
 "Killed!" cried I; on which methought Mr. 
 Hawke looked at me as much as to say, "What 
 the deuce is it to you, sir ? "
 
 108 . JACK'S COUETSH1P. 
 
 "I was about to tell the story," exclaimed the 
 old gentleman, posing himself in such a way as 
 to make him seem all waistcoat. " It's a doubly 
 unfortunate circumstance. It deprives my daughter 
 • — a little precipitately, but that — aw — that is all ; 
 a little before its time, my love," continued he with 
 a bland wave of his hand to her, "of an old and 
 attached friend, and ourselves — aw — of the pleasure 
 of my friend Sir Keginald Morecombe son's 
 company at dinner this evening." 
 
 I pricked up my ears, stealing meanwhile earnest 
 glances at Miss Florence, who looked, I thought, 
 now that I could take a good peep at her, as if she 
 had been crying. 
 
 "It happened in this way," continued Mr. Hawke. 
 " Flora had followed my daughter upstairs ; but — 
 aw — being exceedingly infirm — her age, Florence, 
 could certainly not be less than sixteen years, and 
 —aw — short of breath, she failed, I presume, to 
 reach the landing, and lay down upon one of the 
 steps, to await her mistress's return. Whilst the 
 animal was there Mr. Morecombe came from his — 
 aw — his bedroom, and, not observing the dawg, 
 stepped upon it, which, I regret to say, caused him 
 to roll down at least half a dozen stairs ; but provi- 
 dentially he caught hold of the banister and saved 
 himself from — aw — from serious injury. As it was, 
 he severely sprained his ankle, which necessitated 
 his removal to his bedroom, where he now lies."
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 100 
 
 "And in stepping upon Flora he trod what re- 
 mained of the poor beast's breath out of her, I 
 suppose ? " said my uncle, keeping his gravity 
 nobly ; for, upon my word, I believe, had I caught 
 the least shadow of a grin upon his face, I should 
 have exploded. 
 
 " Yes," cried Miss Hawke, with the tears standing 
 in her beautiful eyes ; " papa thinks only of Mr. 
 Morecombe. When poor Flora was looked at she 
 was stone dead ; and will anybod}' believe that Mr. 
 Morecombe did not see her, or that he did not tread 
 with all his weight out of spite ? " she added, 
 making a little passionate gesture with her hand. 
 
 " Is he of a naturally cruel disposition ? " asked 
 my uncle of Mr. Hawke, with a little droop in his 
 right eyelid, which I took as meant for me. 
 
 "Cruel! certainly not," exclaimed the old gentle- 
 man in his amplest manner, and expanding his 
 chest as he spoke. "Had he seen the poor dawg 
 he could of course have avoided her. Can you 
 suppose, Florence, that — aw — that he would de- 
 liberately sprain his ankle? Yet you are bound, 
 my love, to presume this if you affirm that he 
 acted out of malice. Eee-diculous ! " 
 
 A footman announced dinner. Mr. Hawke gave 
 his arm to my aunt, and I heard him tell my uncle 
 to take Miss Hawke in ; but my uncle, instead of 
 offering his arm to Miss Florence, gave it to Miss 
 Emily, and left her sister to me. He thrust his
 
 110 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 tongue in his cheek as he glanced at me over his 
 shoulder. Heaven bless him ! There never was 
 a finer creature. With Miss Florence on my arm 
 I followed the others, forming the tail of the pro- 
 cession. The table was so plentifully covered with 
 flowers and tall silver candlesticks that Mr. Hawke 
 was, from his position at the head of it, unable to 
 see the order in which we had arrived until we 
 were all seated. But what could he say when he 
 saw me alongside Miss Hawke and my uncle next 
 to Miss Emily? His business was to ask a blessing, 
 which he did with his eyes closed and his hands 
 locked, and when that was over my uncle began to 
 talk to him, whilst one of the flunkeys served out 
 soup at a side table and the others handed it round. 
 
 " I am very sorry for your sake," said I to Miss 
 Florence, "to hear of the death of poor old Flora. 
 It would have served your father's friend right had 
 he broken his neck — that is, if he stepped on the 
 dog purposely because she happened to be in the 
 road." 
 
 " Flora was my poor mother's pet," she replied. 
 " She has been a constant companion of mine for 
 years, and it bitterly grieves me to think that the 
 poor animal should have been killed at the last, 
 and cruelly killed, even admitting that Mr. More- 
 combe did tread upon her by accident. But we'll 
 say no more about it, Mr. Seymour ; I don't want 
 you to think me affected."
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. Ill 
 
 Here Mr. Hawke began to speak about the dog 
 in a loud voice. 
 
 " The peculiarity, Mrs. Seymour, of the old 
 animal was — aw — was its capacity of fondness. 
 Some years ago it brought a cat out of the 
 water where the thing was — aw — was drowning. 
 Florence nursed the cat and made it well, and the 
 dawg grew so attached to the cat and the cat to 
 the dawg that they would — aw — I assure you, take 
 walks together. The cat was ultimately lost ; I 
 believe — aw — it strayed. Flora greatly missed it, 
 and until age rendered her imbecile she could 
 never hear the noise which cats are in the habit of 
 making at night without considerable agitation, a 
 circumstance that people who — aw — study dawgs 
 might think affecting." 
 
 Considering that I wanted to preserve a solemn 
 face, that Miss Hawke might believe my sympathy 
 with her loss sincere — which it certainly was — I 
 say that the old fellow's story, or rather the 
 manner and tone in which he delivered it, was as 
 severe a trial as ever befel me. However, it did 
 not take me long to recover; the having Miss 
 Hawke alongside of me soon rendered me des- 
 perately serious and sentimental. I knew old 
 Hawke was looking ; I had not the least doubt he 
 was extremely annoyed that his daughter should be 
 sitting next a young fellow whose admiration for 
 his lovely companion he could not and would not
 
 112 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 disguise ; but I did not care a brass farthing for his 
 thoughts. It was a magnificent pleasure for me, 
 an immense delight, to be in her company again 
 after the separation of a week, during which I had 
 hung about like a turnpike tramp in the hope of 
 catching sight of her. Besides, could I doubt that 
 she was pleased with me as a companion? She 
 could not help talking of Flora, and heartily did I 
 bless the ghost of the dead brute as a bond of 
 sympathy between its adorable mistress and me ; 
 and Flora led her to speak of Australia, and 
 Australia set me gabbling about my sea experiences, 
 and I told her one or two thrilling tales of salt 
 water — of a ship on fire, of a black man overboard 
 in the Doldrums fighting with a shark, and such 
 things — and either related them so well, or she was 
 so anxious to be interested, that we seemed to forget 
 that the footmen were waiting to remove our plates, 
 that there were others beside ourselves at table, and 
 that old Hawke was watching us from behind the 
 silver candlesticks (though of course we were not 
 supposed to notice anything of that kind), until on 
 looking up once I caught Miss Emily staring at us, 
 and then glance at her papa, a circumstance that 
 made me cautious for about one minute and a 
 half, after which I was deep in stories, questions, 
 conversation again. 
 
 You will suppose from this that I did not lack 
 encouragement. In many things I was a conceited
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 113 
 
 young fellow in those days. I believe I was 
 tolerably good-looking ; I considered that I was not 
 destitute of intellect ; there was not a man living, 
 on or off the stage, whom I should have been afraid 
 to challenge to a dancing match, from a waltz to a 
 hornpipe ; 1 reckoned in such songs as " Tom 
 Bowling," " The Anchor's Weighed," and "Hocked 
 in the Cradle of the Deep," I could deliver as honest 
 a note as ever a sailor's lungs could find wind for 
 (though I never would sing before ladies) ; but I was 
 not such a fop as not to have been able to tell in 
 a moment whether my company was unwelcome to 
 Miss Florence, nor such a blunderhead as not to 
 have straightway hauled off from her under a press 
 of canvas had such a discovery been made by me. 
 If lively interest in my talk, if comparative neglect 
 of the rest of the company, if real earnestness in 
 her manner when earnestness was most acceptable 
 to me, if an occasional sideways peep at me as if 
 the view was rather to her taste — if such things in 
 a girl may be accepted as encouraging symptoms 
 by the young fellow she is alongside of, then I am 
 strictly within the truth when I say that all this 
 and a good deal more, much too nice and subtle 
 for the pen to determine, composed Miss Hawke's 
 bearing, manners, behaviour, speech to me that 
 evening at her papa's dining-table. And shall I 
 omit reference to the unspeakable relish afforded 
 this delightful communion by the reflection that 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 jack's courtship. 
 
 young Morecombe was abed upstairs with a sprained 
 ankle — an ankle, I say, sprained, to put the 
 fact squarely, by tumbling over Miss Hawke's 
 sensibilities. 
 
 "A fig for old Hawke ! " I cried to myself; and 
 as the old gentleman's excellent dry champagne 
 mingled with my blood and coursed through my 
 youthful veins, I grew more and more indifferent 
 to the looks of astonishment and annoyance I would 
 catch him throwing at us, and more and more 
 ardent in my behaviour to Miss Hawke ; so that I 
 may plainly assert that if I had come to that table 
 up to my neck in love, I had floundered clean out 
 of soundings long before the ladies withdrew. 
 
 Well, when they rose at last I nearly pitched 
 over my chair to hold open the door ; but not for a 
 small fortune would I have missed doing that same, 
 for as Miss Hawke passed she just raised her eyes 
 to mine with a little smile; it was the briefest 
 glance in the world, yet had it been a prolonged 
 gaze I could not have found more meaning in it. 
 My heart fell to beating as if I had received a 
 fright ; and I stood holding on to the door-handle 
 some moments after the last of the ladies had 
 passed out, rendered as I may suppose temporarily 
 incapable of employing my intelligence by the 
 transport of wonder and passion those sweet eyes 
 had kindled in me. 
 I returned to the table, and observed my uncle
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODCfE. 115 
 
 casting glances around as if in search of something 
 to smoke. Old Hawke sat cold and hard in his 
 place ; there was no invitation for me to draw my 
 chair close; he mechanically pointed to the de- 
 canters and named their contents with an expression 
 of face as if he wished us all at the devil. 
 
 '•'You're not a smoker, I believe, Mr. Hawke ? " 
 said my uncle. 
 
 •• No, I am not," he replied, "but I know you 
 are ; " and he called to one of his men to put a box 
 of cigars on the table. My uncle and I fired up, 
 as why should we not, since the cigars were there 
 to be smoked ? and 1 do not know that I enjoyed 
 Mr. Hawke's capital tobacco the less because I 
 noticed that he studiously avoided addressing me 
 or even looking at me. 
 
 After we had been sitting in this manner about 
 ten minutes, Mr. Hawke begged my uncle's pardon 
 for leaving him for a few moments : he was anxious 
 to see how Mr. Morecombe did ; he should be sorry 
 that his friend Sir Reginald Morecombe's son 
 should feel himself neglected. 
 
 " Not very polite, Jack, to leave us, even for Sir 
 Eeginald Morecombe's son," said my uncle when 
 Mr. Hawke was gone; "but squatting is a calling 
 for which one must make large allowances. Have 
 you enjoyed your dinner ? " 
 
 '• Veiy much," I replied. 
 
 (t I am glad to hear that," says he gravely ; u and
 
 116 JACKS COURTSHIP. 
 
 whilst it lasts, ray lad, I should go on enjo}*ing it up 
 to the hilt ; for I calculate it'll be the only blow-out 
 — I don't say the only blow-up — you'll get at 
 Clifton Lodge." 
 
 " I am afraid that's pretty plain," said I. 
 
 " You can't blame Hawke," continued my uncle. 
 " Why, confound you ! you and Florence have been 
 as thick as thieves this evening ; never saw such a 
 hobnobbing in my life. Have you made her in love 
 with you ? You turned the old man into stone ; he 
 was like a statue, and could do nothing but look. 
 If he don't cut me and your aunt for this at once, 
 he'll drop us presently. You bet." 
 
 " I hope not," said I. 
 
 " You bet. But d'ye think I shall go into 
 mourning ? We'll invite him to dinner by way of 
 revenge next week, and if he accepts I give you 
 leave to shave my head. And, man ! wasn't your 
 getting Miss Hawke to take into dinner neatly 
 managed ? How was I to know which Miss Hawke 
 he meant ? " and he laughed at the top of his voice. 
 
 "Aren't you sorry Mr. Morecombe has sprained 
 his ankle ? " said I. 
 
 "Very," he replied. "If I'd foreseen this dis- 
 aster I'd have brought a few pockethandkerchiefs 
 with me." 
 
 " Fancy squeezing the life out of the dog ! How 
 happy he must feel as he lies forking his leg up 
 and cursing at it ! " said I, turning over the fancy
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 117 
 
 and relishing it and garnishing it with my imagi- 
 nation. 
 
 " Jack," exclaimed my uncle, looking at me with 
 one eye half closed, "d'ye know, if you have a 
 mind to win the girl, I'm disposed to stake a sum 
 of money on your chances. Mind, I don't believe 
 you'd ever get her dad's consent. You'd have to 
 bolt with her ; it would have to be the old rope- 
 ladder business, the midnight chaise or express, his 
 worship the registrar early in the morning, the 
 regular Losa Matilda and Anna Maria kind of 
 thing, against all which I solemnly caution you. 
 But what I'd be willing to wager on is, that with 
 a few more opportunities you'll bring Miss Florence 
 to listen — ay, and to like it — whilst you pour your 
 cheap poetry into her ears. And I hope, young 
 man," said he, deepening his voice and opening 
 his half-closed eye, and speaking very earnestly 
 indeed, "that unless you are absolutely sincere in 
 your feelings you'll sheer off from her before you 
 begin to make her think of you." 
 
 " My dear uncle " I began. 
 
 "Hear me out!" cried he. "She is a sweet 
 woman, and I must have her approached with 
 immense honesty. I'll allow no flirting. You 
 must not drop the game by-and-by to consider 
 whether it is worth the candle. Oh, yes ! I can 
 see what's in your mind. Your admiration for her 
 Jills you with astonishment at my language. But
 
 118 JACK ; S COURTSHIP. 
 
 you are twenty-five, and at twenty -five the human 
 character is like sand, and the loveliest fabric of 
 sentiment that can be constructed upon it, cemented 
 by dreams, decorated with the sparkling gems of 
 imagination, and radiant with the light that 
 Wordsworth speaks of in his noble ode, may settle 
 and sink out of sight in a few hours like an old 
 collier on the Goodwin Sands." 
 
 " My dear uncle " I began once more. 
 
 "There must be no tomfoolery," he continued. 
 " Not," giving me a bow, " that I doubt you. No, 
 sir ; you are my brother Tom's son ; you have 
 been a sailor, and I know how to value those two 
 things. But do not go, I say, and make love to- 
 Forence Hawke, and get her to fall in love with 
 you ; do not go and shove yourself in the way of 
 her papa's wishes, and deprive her of a man who, 
 ass as I think him, might, for all that you can tell, 
 turn out a very tolerable husband, unless you are 
 as certain that you can count upon your impas- 
 sioned sincerity and devotion for the rest of your 
 natural life, as surely as I can count at this 
 moment upon finding gold in my pocket by feeling 
 for it." 
 
 This was rather staggering talk to me. What 
 did he mean ? That I wasn't a man of honour ? 
 That I was a cockney flirt down at Bristol for a 
 holiday, trying to make a fool of the girl I had 
 fallen in love with and literallv adored ? I was
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 119 
 
 turning over an answer in my mind when he 
 started off afresh. 
 
 "I should speak to you in the same fashion if 
 you had fallen in love with one of your cousins. 
 You are without a father, Jack, and as an uncle I 
 have a right to talk to you. There's nothing in life 
 that disgusts and angers me more than a male 
 flirt : a creature who pretends to fall in love, 
 makes a girl fond of him, and then drops her. 
 There's no halter long enough for such malignant 
 baboons. A woman is always an object to be 
 reverenced. She has emotions we men could not 
 fathom — no, not if all the deep-sea lead-lines in 
 the world were spliced together to sound her with. 
 Her love is not like ours, a thing apart : you know 
 the noble lines written by a scamp ? When it is a 
 woman's heart that is to be approached, my cry is, 
 1 Hats off and hands off ! Show your respect, for 
 you are on holy ground. And prove your honesty, 
 as the Scotchman does before paying money, by 
 pausing to tak' a thocht.' " 
 
 " Do you imagine I am flirting with Miss Hawke?" 
 cried I. 
 
 " No, sir ; I believe you are head over ears in 
 love with her. Keep so to the end; keep head 
 over ears though the end be fixed when the blast 
 announcing the crack o' doom shall be heard. 
 Don't go and scramble out after you have hauled 
 her in. Jack, don't you know, you miserable sailor
 
 120 jack's courtship. 
 
 man you ! that love is too often mere electroplate 
 with men? Wear brings the silver off. With 
 women it is all pure metal right through. Re- 
 member that ; and in hauling away at your heart 
 in order to get it out of its moorings and offer it to 
 this girl, see that there is nothing of Birmingham 
 and Sheffield in the gift ; d'ye take me ? For if it 
 is only coating that makes it look bright and mass}', 
 keep it where" it is, otherwise yell be committing 
 felony, cheating as badly as any rascally tradesman 
 who palms off pinchbeck for gold. Hush ! " 
 
 The door opened and Mr. Hawke stalked in. 
 My uncle immediately inquired after Mr. More- 
 combe, but I took no heed of the old gentleman's 
 replies. In truth I felt half stunned by the broad- 
 side that had been poured into me. And yet it 
 was full of flattery too : it was like telling me that 
 I could win the girl if I chose, but that I was not 
 to attempt to do so without first feeling sure that 
 I was sincere in my desire to win her. My half- 
 smoked cigar hung idly and extinguished between 
 my fingers whilst I looked foolishly from Mr. Hawke 
 to my uncle, pretending that I was interested in 
 their talk, though I did not attend to a single word 
 that was said. Presently our host, addressing me 
 abruptly, but speaking with his dreadful formality 
 and pomp of delivery, exclaimed, " Will you finish 
 your cigar, Mr. Seymour, or have you — aw — had 
 enough ? The ladies, I fear, will be wondering at
 
 A LITTLE DINNEB AT CLIFTON LODGE. 121 
 
 — EEV — our absence ? " On this I stood up and 
 followed them to the drawing-room. 
 
 The ladies formed a group at one end of the 
 room, though Miss Hawke sat a little apart 
 listening to the others. I went up to her at once, 
 not in the least caring how Mr. Hawke might relish 
 this renewal of my attention to his daughter ; for 
 1 was now rendered utterly defiant, not only by 
 being deeply in love, but by the perception that 
 Mr. Hawke was never likely to again ask me to 
 his house, and that therefore it would not signify 
 an atom whether I dissembled or not. I asked if 
 she had heard how Mr. Morecombe was ; she said 
 no. I told her that her father had been upstairs 
 to see him, and added : "He is a very lucky 
 young gentleman to be so highly esteemed by 
 your father.'' She smiled, but made no observa- 
 tion. 
 
 " I am afraid," said I, taking a squint at the 
 <>ld fellow, who was talking to my aunt, " I should 
 never be able to reach up to Mr. Morecombe's 
 moral stature in Mr. Hawke's opinion. Is it 
 because my head is not so well shaped as his, or 
 because I have not his honesty?" She watched 
 me with a partly-amused, partly-questioning ex- 
 pression. " But neither brains nor characters, I 
 am afraid, are of much use in these days. Tell 
 me what is most liked, Miss Hawke ? what is the 
 most successful ? what do you value most ?"
 
 122 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " Perfect sincerity, Mr. Seymour: the very rarest 
 thing in the world," she answered. 
 
 I was struck by this reply, that patly followed 
 what my uncle had said. One might have sworn 
 she had overheard him. 
 
 "When Mr. Hawke was upstairs," said I, 
 sinking my yoice, which forced her to incline her 
 head to listen, and this was her posture when her 
 father turned to look at her, " my uncle read me a 
 most emphatic lecture on sincerity. He is a 
 sagacious man, careless perhaps of the world's 
 opinion, but with large and correct views of life. 
 He said that a man's love was like a plated teapot : 
 the silver came off through wear ; but a woman's 
 love, says he, is genuine metal all through." 
 
 " Though it might not be silver, and, therefore," 
 says she, laughing quietly, "not worth so much 
 as the plated teapot." And then, looking at me 
 earnestly, " Pray," she exclaimed, " what had Mr. 
 Seymour's teapot got to do with his lecture to you 
 on sincerity ? " 
 
 " It was a simile — an image ; on the whole clever, 
 I thought," I replied. 
 
 " What caused him to lecture you ? " she asked. 
 
 " I must not tell," I said. "Yes, I will, though; 
 but not to you direct. It shall come to you through 
 Sophie." 
 
 At this point there was a bustle. Mr. Hawke 
 asked Amelia to sing, and she went to the piano,
 
 A LITTLE DIXXEE AT CLIFTOX LODC4E. 123 
 
 followed by the old gentleman, who stood up still 
 alongside of her, like a parish-constable at a 
 meeting. Had Amelia been Pasta, or Patti, or 
 Tietjens, I must have gone on talking. She warbled 
 and I mumbled. Old Hawke faced round as much 
 as to say, " Good God ! will nothing silence that 
 villain's tongue ? " but I took no notice. 
 
 " I fear," said I, "that this will be the last time 
 I shall ever have the pleasure of sitting in this 
 room with you." 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " she exclaimed with 
 a quickness of manner that afforded me pure 
 delight. " Are you leaving Clifton ? " 
 
 " No," said I. "I mean that I shall never be 
 asked here again." 
 
 The sweet girl tried to look astonished, but it 
 would not do ; she knew the truth, and yet my 
 whipping out with it in this fashion filled her with 
 wonder and amusement. Meanwhile Amelia piped 
 at the piano : — 
 
 Oh, fond nightingale, hee-utiful nightingale. 
 Filling with music the moonlighted 
 
 Boom ! went the bass, and the word was lost. 
 
 " Speak quite frankly, Mr. Seymour; I really do 
 not understand you," said Miss Florence. 
 
 " Yes, you do, you darling," thought I ; " but 
 you want me to plain, and I'll be so." " The case 
 is this," said I. "I have been told — the news is 
 not nice — that Mr. Hawke is anxious to possess the
 
 124 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 young gentleman who accidentally (no doubt) killed 
 our poor dear Flora, as a son-in-law." She coloured 
 up, but I was not to be stopped. " Your father is 
 a keen-sighted man, capable of reading the mind. 
 He has peered into mine, and witnessed there an 
 admiration for you which he is not going to tolerate 
 in a young fellow who is a plain mister, without 
 fortune, and who was bred to the rough and 
 savage calling of the sea. Hence my fears per- 
 suade me this is my last visit here." 
 
 That I should have ventured so much but for 
 Mr, Hawke's champagne, which gave fluency to 
 my tongue and such an irrepressible ardency to 
 my thoughts as relieved me of all considerations of 
 taste, good or bad, I will not say ; but, having 
 made the speech, I was glad. It was not indeed a 
 declaration of love, but it came near enough to it 
 to make my meaning clear to the gentle heart 
 for whose instruction it was designed. But she 
 would let me say no more ; she endeavoured to 
 conceal the warm blush on her cheeks by cleverly 
 manoeuvring her fan ; but what she concealed from 
 the others she left visible to me, which I dare say 
 she found insupportable, for she left her chair and 
 went to an open window under pretence of drawing 
 the curtains, and there she stood alone until Amelia 
 had done her song, after which she joined my aunt, 
 having by that time regained her composure and 
 natural complexion. Yet let me say here that
 
 A LITTLE DINNEB AT CLIFTON LODGE. 125 
 
 there was nothing in her manner of leaving me 
 that indicated the least displeasure. Her quitting 
 her chair seemed to me no more than one of those 
 devices into which a maiden will be driven by stress 
 of blushing. I could not mistake. 
 
 I went over to Sophie and Miss Eniily Hawke, 
 wanting to see what sort of a girl this latter was. 
 1 thought she seemed a bit frightened when I sat 
 down near her. She stared at me hard when I 
 spoke, but presently a not unpleasant manner 
 came to my help, and perhaps her own. I was, 
 indeed, anxious that she should not dislike me, 
 whatever opinions her father might hold. I 
 expressed the sorrow with which I had heard of 
 her delicate health, and spoke with plenty of heart 
 in my meaning too, for no man could have looked 
 into that young girl's wan face, and noticed her 
 thin wrists and fingers and the expression of 
 suffering in her eyes, without compassion. Then I 
 talked to her about the lamented Flora, and 
 London, and kindled a light upon her face by 
 praising Sydney and bragging about Australia, as 
 though the world began at Cape Leeuwin and 
 ended at Cape York, until, what with my stories 
 and attempts at jokes, and the easy and plain, if 
 not free, manner that will come to a sailor as a 
 part of his sea-training, I rendered her as amiable 
 as I could desire. This was the only part of my 
 conduct that night that made Mr. Hawke seem
 
 126 jack's courtship. 
 
 willing to unbend his gloomy wooden face when he 
 turned it my way. If there was a soft corner in 
 him I suppose that invalid bairn filled it ; and I 
 think he was as much pleased that I should be 
 amusing the poor delicate creature as that I was 
 no longer conversing in a low voice with Miss 
 Florence with my nose at her ear. 
 
 Yet the effort to produce a pleasing impression on 
 Miss Emily was a mighty hard one. She was not 
 overburdened with intellect. I have elsewhere said 
 that she had her papa's face ; I could not but feel 
 that she was her papa's child, and would perish in 
 support of his opinions and wishes : and so I was 
 like a needle trying my hardest to turn north and 
 having to contend with the flow of a steady depola- 
 rising influence. All the time I was hoping that 
 Miss Florence would be courted by our lively voices 
 and join us ; it was this expectation that supported 
 me : and when I found that she would not come, I 
 gave up and sat without talking, looking moodily at 
 her, and, as is the custom of young lovers, turning 
 over all I had spoken, regretting the omission of 
 this, deploring the utterance of that, wondering 
 what would have been the effect had I said the 
 other, dwelling upon her assertion that nothing 
 pleased her so much as sincerity, coupling it with 
 my uncle's lecture at the dinner-table, wondering if 
 there was anything suspicious in my manner that 
 they should both address me on the same subject,
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 127 
 
 and how long it would take young ATorecoinbe's 
 sprained ankle to get well. 
 
 The evening was brought to a close by the an- 
 nouncement of the arrival of my uncle's carriage. 
 When it came to my turn to say good-night to Miss 
 Florence, I could not help fancying from the look 
 in her eyes that, had not the others stood around, 
 she would have said something more to me than 
 farewell. I might have been mistaken ; but be that 
 as it will, 1 could not let go her hand without giving 
 it a tender squeeze : and though I admit that it 
 was not returned, I can tell you this, mates, the 
 darling girl did not haul her fingers away from me 
 as if she had been burnt. But there was nothing 
 to whisper, nothing even to be looked, with old 
 Hawke like a policeman looming close alongside. 
 He gave me a finger-nail to shake, bowed ponder- 
 ously over his waistcoat, but expressed no pleasure 
 at all at having made my acquaintance, nor hinted 
 the least desire to have the honour of seeing me 
 again. 
 
 Not very much was said as we drove home : the 
 wheels made too much noise for comfortable talking, 
 nor can it be said that our postures were of the 
 easiest, I, as before, being squeezed between my 
 cousins, which forced me to give my uncle and aunt 
 opposite the benefit of my knees ; so that all I can 
 remember my uncle saying was, "Damme, Jack! 
 you seem all legs to-night ! " on which Sophie
 
 128 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 panted into my ear, " Papa should say all heart ! " 
 But the drive only occupied a few minutes, and 
 presently we were in the dining-room at home, grog 
 on the table, my uncle in slippers, and my aunt 
 and cousins lingering for a chat before going to bed. 
 Of course our talk was of the dinner, and if we were 
 not so kind in our remarks about our host as people 
 usually are of the friends that entertain them, let it 
 be remembered that my uncle thought old Hawke a 
 prig, and that my cousins objected to his ideas on 
 marriage. 
 
 " Do you really think Mr. Morecombe sprained 
 his ankle ? " asked Sophie generally. 
 
 " No doubt of it," replied my aunt. " Why 
 should he sham?" 
 
 "Yes," says Sophie; "but having killed poor 
 Flora by treading on her, he might think the best 
 way to prove the thing was accidental was by 
 pretending he had hurt himself." 
 
 " You should suggest that to Miss Hawke," said 
 I. " Shamming or not, I wish he had dined with 
 us ; I should like to have seen him and heard him 
 talk." 
 
 " A foolish wish, Jack ! " cried my uncle. " Had 
 he been present what chance of flirting would you 
 have had ? " 
 
 "Don't call it flirting" said I warmly. 
 
 " Eh ! " cried he, turning to his wife, " you should 
 have heard me lecture Jack this evening ! "Whilst
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 129 
 
 Mr. Hawke was upstairs balsarning his young 
 
 friend's aristocratic tendons, I " and he repeated 
 
 pretty nearly all he had before let fly at me. 
 
 "Sophie," said I, when he was done, "please 
 take a note of this, will you ? I promised Miss 
 Hawke that she should know through you what my 
 uncle said." 
 
 " I am sure Jack doesn't stand in need of such 
 advice," exclaimed Sophie. "What tan you think 
 of him, papa, to talk about silver-plated hearts and 
 stuff of that kind ? " 
 
 "Stuff d'ye call it?" cried my uncle ; "why it 
 was first-class imagery. If Jack means to make 
 love to Florence, I want him to be in earnest. She 
 knows him through me ; I respect, admire, and am 
 very fond of her, and I don't want any tomfoolery." 
 
 H There's no tomfoolery here," said I. " And 
 yet — really — this talk of my making love — these 
 references to my being in earnest — are rather — 
 
 well, let me say " and not knowing what to say 
 
 I stopped, blushed, coughed, and, catching my 
 uncle's eye, laughed. 
 
 " I cannot help thinking it is a pity," said my 
 aunt, fanning herself and looking somewhat 
 anxiously from one to the other of us as she spoke, 
 " that we should be in any way, even indirectly, the 
 means of interfering, as it might seem, between 
 Mr. Hawke and his domestic views. I mean that 
 it would not matter one jot, and, indeed, no one 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 would be gladder than I, if Mr. Jack should be the 
 instrument of putting young Mr. Morecombe down, 
 and of saving Florence from what I have often said 
 I fear will be an unhappy future. For no woman 
 can live happily with a fool. But it would have 
 been better, I think, if Mr. Jack could have acted 
 independently of us — if he could have fallen in love 
 with Miss Hawke and paid her attention — as he did 
 to-night, and how annoyed Mr. Hawke looked ! — 
 without our having, as it might be, anything to do 
 with it." 
 
 "Well, and what hare we to do with it?" ex- 
 claimed my uncle. " We're only responsible for 
 his introduction. We can't help his falling in 
 love." 
 
 "No, I quite see that," responded my aunt 
 thoughtfully; "but still I am afraid that Mr. 
 Hawke is annoyed." 
 
 " With us, do you mean, Sophia ? " cried my 
 uncle. 
 
 " Yes, I think he was. He was cool, I thought." 
 
 "And what then?" 
 
 "Well," said she, " you see we're neighbours." 
 
 " And what then ? " 
 
 "Well, I should not like him to think that — I 
 mean, it would seem unfriendly on our part to act 
 as if it gave us pleasure to thwart his wishes." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said my uncle. " What are we 
 supposed to know about his wishes ? Why, con-
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 131 
 
 found him, I'm an honester man to his child than 
 he is. Here I see my nephew admiring her, hang- 
 ing about her, and behaving as a young fellow 
 would who wants to get a girl to love him; and 
 thereupon I give him a lecture upon the subject 
 of women's feelings worth its weight in gold, and 
 dismiss him with this injunction : Be honest, be 
 sincere, or sheer off! But how does the father 
 act? He meets an old man called Sir Eeginald 
 Morecombe ; he brings this old man's son to his 
 house, and in a manner forces him upon his 
 daughter, not because he values her happiness, not 
 because she is a restless creature who had better 
 marry a sucking baronet than her papa's coachman, 
 but because he is eaten up by the parvenu's ambi- 
 tion of improving his social position by importing 
 blood into his family." 
 
 " I agree with every word you say, Charles," ex- 
 claimed my aunt; "but," added she inconse- 
 quentially, " I know it will end in Mr. Hawke 
 cutting us." 
 
 " The sun will still shine, mamma," said Sophie. 
 
 "And the flowers grow," said Amelia. 
 
 " Well, if nobody will understand me," cried my 
 aunt, "there is no use in my going on talking." 
 
 " /understand you," said I, who had listened to 
 this conversation with very mingled emotions, as 
 any man may suppose. " You consider that I am 
 not acting a proper part in doing anything likely to
 
 132 JACK'S courtship. 
 
 disturb the friendly feelings which exist between 
 your family and the Hawkes ?" 
 
 " Twaddle ! " rumbled my uncle in his gizzard. 
 
 "You consider, perhaps," I continued, "that I 
 did not behave very decorously in so bearing myself 
 this evening towards Miss Hawke as to vex her 
 father, and make him seem cool towards you for 
 introducing me.'' 
 
 " Bosh ! " growled my uncle. 
 
 " Well," continued I, not noticing my uncle's 
 interruptions, "if this is what you think, I must 
 admit that you are right. But what was I to do ? 
 Miss Hawke invited me to her papa's house, and I 
 went. I took her in to dinner and sat next to her : 
 how was I to behave ? " 
 
 " Look here, Jack ! " shouted my uncle, " enough 
 of this. Take a cigar, man ; take a cigar. Sophia, 
 next week we return this dinner, d'ye hear ? " 
 
 " Mr. Hawke will not accept," said my aunt. 
 
 "We'll risk it," exclaimed my uncle. "But 
 understand — if he don't accept, I shall put his 
 refusal down, not to Jack yonder, but to my wide- 
 awake and boots. I shall consider that we're not 
 good enough for him." 
 
 My aunt and Amelia drew themselves up at this. 
 " I'm sorry your nephew should hear that, at all 
 events," said the former. " Not good enough for 
 Mr. Hawke ? Bee-ally, Charles ! " 
 
 My uncle seemed to find this stroke of indignation
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 133 
 
 exquisite, for he laughed until the tears rolled down 
 his cheeks; and indeed, my aunt's " Eee-ally, 
 Charles ! " was almost as good in its way as old 
 Hawke's " Ree-diculous ! " But, humorous as it 
 might he, for my part I was not in the mood to 
 appreciate the fun of it. I could not but see that 
 if the Hawkes and my relations were to remain 
 friends I must take leave of Clifton, or, at all 
 events, clear out of my uncle's house. I was full of 
 these bothersome fancies when my aunt and cousins 
 bade me good-night. Great-hearted Sophie, noticing 
 the gloom on my brow and wishing to send me to 
 bed happy, whispered as she squeezed my hand, 
 " You are making Florence very fond of you, Jack ; 
 I am sure she likes you exceedingly," and tripped 
 out of the room. Her words were like a dram to 
 a fainting man ; yet I still felt very worried as I 
 resumed my chair and lighted another cigar. 
 
 " What was that Sophie croaked in your ear just 
 now ? " inquired my uncle. 
 
 " Nothing of consequence," I replied. 
 
 " The girls don't sympathize with their mother 
 as regards old Hawke, d'ye observe, Jack ? " said 
 lie; " they take after me. Not that your aunt likes 
 the man. I know what's in her mind. Mr. Hawke 
 is a neighbour : we have exchanged civilities and 
 hospitality ; his girls are pleasant companions for 
 my daughters ; and whilst your aunt would be the 
 first to clap you on your back and help your love-
 
 134 jack's courtship. 
 
 making in all ways possible — so heartily does she 
 object to the sort of marriage old Hawke wants to 
 bring about — if you were an outsider, no relation, 
 merely a friend who lived in the town ; yet being 
 my nephew and owing your knowledge of the 
 Hawkes to us, she hangs back, and is foolish enough 
 to trouble herself over what Hawke may think, and 
 the prospect of his cutting us." 
 
 " Uncle," said I, "I am in a very uncomfortable 
 position. I feel that, under the circumstances, I 
 have no right to remain here ; and yet I am so 
 deeply obliged to you all for your affectionate kind- 
 ness, that I feel I should be acting with brutal 
 ingratitude if I even hinted that I ought to pack up 
 and be off." 
 
 " Quite right, the brutallest ingratitude," said he 
 with twinkling eyes ; "so therefore what d'ye say., 
 as you common sailors observe, to take a turn with 
 this jawing tackle ? " 
 
 " But it is only right I should tell you," continued 
 I, "that though to save my aunt from any mortifica- 
 tion I should deem it my duty to leave your house " 
 (he made a dreadful grimace as I used these words), 
 "it is not at all probable that I should quit the 
 neighbourhood." 
 
 "What!" cried he. "Are you so far gone as 
 that ? " 
 
 " I'll not put it in that way," said I, speaking 
 very calmly ; " but I'll answer by saying that I am
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT CLIFTON LODGE. 135 
 
 in love with Florence Hawke, and that I could no 
 more dream of returning to London and giving up 
 all chance of seeing her again this side of her 
 marriage with young Morecomhe, or any other man 
 her father may induce her to take, than I could of 
 cutting off my nose in the hope of improving my 
 heauty.'' 
 
 "Well, smite my timbers ! " cried he, looking 
 at me wonderingly and talking through his nose, 
 as his custom was when suddenly excited ; "if 
 ever I could believe you were so much in earnest. 
 Confound ye, I believe you'd marry the girl 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " This instant ! " I replied warmly. 
 
 " But have you reflected ? " cried he, running his 
 eye over me. "Are you sure of your own meaning ? 
 Is it possible that a man can fall in love safely in 
 the short time you have known Miss Florence ? " 
 
 "Yes," said I stoutly, "quite possible." 
 
 " And you wouldn't leave Clifton now, even if 
 you give us up ! " 
 
 " Assuredly not ! " I replied. 
 
 "Well, roast me ! " cried he, viewing me with a 
 kind of admiration ; "if this don't beat cock- 
 fighting. But how d'ye calculate on getting to 
 windward of the old fellow and young Morecombe ? " 
 continued he, talking inquisitively. 
 
 " If I can teach her to love me she'll have me, if 
 she's the woman I believe her to be," I answered.
 
 136 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " Well, bang me, if this don't beat cock-fighting ! P 
 he cried again. "By jingo, Jack, you'll get ber — 
 you're bound to win — if this is your policy. Why, 
 you have only to make her as much in earnest as 
 you are and the old Hawke '11 have to take "wing — 
 he'll have to mizzle. Oppose 'em ; " he ejaculated, 
 looking at me, and talking as though he were 
 thinking aloud. " Why, there's something in the 
 will of two resolved young lovers that makes them 
 lit to conquer all creation — aye, were the globe 
 populated entirely with Hawkes. Well, may I be 
 smothered this blessed night if I'm not considerably 
 astonished too," said he, pitching his cigar through 
 the open window and rising. "Oh for a talking 
 owl, that I might despatch the mouser with news of 
 your ideas to old Hawke, who by this time should 
 be abed, nightcap on, smiling as he dreams of 
 blood ! " 
 
 He laughed so heartily that it took him several 
 minutes to light his candle, and after I had closed 
 my bedroom door I could hear the rumbling of his 
 half- smothered laughter in the passage, as if he 
 waited for the fit to subside before entering his 
 wife's room.
 
 ( 137 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 MISS hawke 's instructions. 
 
 My uncle's merriment was not contagious. For my 
 part I never in all my life felt less disposed to 
 laugh than after I had said good-night to him. It 
 was anything but pleasant to reflect that my visit 
 was likely to end in making the Hawkes and my 
 relatives enemies. My uncle might pooh-pooh ; 
 my cousins might give me their sympathy ; but it 
 was clear that my aunt had strong opinions on the 
 subject of our duty towards our neighbours, and 
 that she found my admiration of Miss Hawke objec- 
 tionable — at all events, whilst I was her guest. 
 Therefore, as I had not the least notion of quitting 
 the neighbourhood in which Miss Hawke resided, it 
 was for me to consider whether I should risk offend- 
 ing my uncle by quitting his house whilst there was 
 yet time to save a rupture between the two families, 
 or insure a quarrel by remaining. 
 
 Now, to offend so large-hearted and kind a 
 creature as my uncle would have been the very
 
 138 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 hardest obligation that could have been imposed on 
 rne. I had paid him and my aunt the poor compli- 
 ment of falling in love with a friend of the family 
 under their daughters' noses. Yet, instead of 
 resenting this, my uncle had applauded my taste, 
 my cousins had as good as given me to understand 
 that I might count upon them as allies, and if my 
 aunt had played a neutral part, neither helping nor 
 discouraging me, it was, beyond doubt, because she 
 did not want Mr. Hawke to find an excuse for taking 
 offence at the behaviour of a young gentleman who 
 owed his introduction to Clifton Lodge to his uncle 
 and herself. Therefore, bearing the goodness and 
 warm-heartedness of these people in mind, I say it 
 was very hard for me to guess what was the right 
 thing to do. 
 
 However, I thought my best plan would be to 
 take Sophie into my confidence and ask her 
 advice ; and after breakfast next morning — during 
 which, by the way, I do not remember that any 
 reference was made to the Hawkes nor their dinner 
 — I followed her into the grounds, and begged her 
 to give me ten minutes somewhere out of the heat 
 of the sun, as I had something to say to her. 
 
 " What is it, Jack ? " says she. 
 
 " I am going to open my heart to you," said I, 
 " and want your judgment. You remember what 
 was said in the dining-room last night ? " 
 
 "Very well indeed," she replied. "But you
 
 MISS HAWKES INSTRUCTION-. 139 
 
 should not take great notice of what mamma says. 
 She is a little peculiar in some things — too sensi- 
 tive, as papa thinks. She owns she does not like 
 Mr. Hawke very much, and yet she seems 
 frightened at the idea of giving him offence." 
 
 "It is her heing frightened," said I, "that 
 makes my position here emharrassing." 
 
 " But you need not mind her heing frightened, 
 I tell you. It is ridiculous. Suppose Mr. Hawke 
 takes it into his head to cut us. Who cares ? 
 Florence will remain friendly, depend upon it, 
 and she is the only one of the lot we like." 
 
 " You say, ' Suppose Mr. Hawke takes it into his 
 head to cut us.' Xow if he cuts 3*011 it will be 
 through me. I do not like the notion : and here- 
 I am for you to advise." 
 
 "What upon?" 
 
 "Is it not my duty to pack up and leave your 
 house ?" 
 
 " First of all, Jack, why do you want to leave ? " 
 says she. 
 
 " That Mr. Hawke may have no excuse to cut 
 you." 
 
 "Really, Jack," she exclaimed, " I thought you 
 were a clever hoy, but I find you stupid. Do you 
 suppose that an}* of us values Mr. Hawke's ac- 
 quaintance sufficiently to induce us to raise a 
 finger to prevent him from cutting us if he wants 
 to do so?*"
 
 140 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " Well, Sophie, I am forced to judge to a large 
 extent by what your mother says." 
 
 "Perhaps you want to go?" says she, looking 
 at me. 
 
 "Ay, look your hardest: you'll see nothing 
 resembling that wish," I answered. "Want to 
 go, do I ? Want to leave these flowers and trees, 
 and that hospitable home and the kind hearts in 
 it? No, no. I am very well satisfied. Only I 
 cannot stay — I could not be happy were I to stay 
 — if I felt that my presence distressed your mother 
 as a kind of standing annoyance to Mr. Hawke." 
 
 "Bother Mr. Hawke ! " exclaimed the dear girl, 
 pouting. " Why do you talk of him ? I thought 
 you were going to speak of Florence." 
 
 "So I am. She is involved in all this. It 
 concerns her more than anybody else." 
 
 "How? since you talk so coolly of feeling it 
 your duty to leave Clifton, and of course her?" 
 
 " Oh, make no mistake, Sophie," said I, shaking 
 my head and very gravely laughing. "I don't 
 mean to leave Clifton, and I don't mean to leave 
 her. If I quit that house there, it will be only 
 to retire to a lodging in Bristol, or hereabouts. 
 No, no, cousin : I am in love with Florence 
 Hawke, and rest assured I am not the man to 
 leave young Morecombe, or anybody else, a clear 
 field, until she, and only she, orders me to sheer 
 off."
 
 HISS. HAWSE'S INSTRUCTIONS. 141 
 
 " Let us sit down, Jack," said Sophie ; " this is 
 very interesting/' and her face took the expression 
 I have sometimes noticed in a girl when she comes 
 to an exciting part of a novel. 
 
 " You whispered last night, Sophie dear," said 
 I, "that I might he sure Miss Hawke liked me. 
 Did you say that merely to encourage me, or do 
 you positively know it to be true ? " 
 
 " I positively know it to be true." 
 
 "How did she convey it'? What were her 
 words?" said I, ogling the fat and amiable face 
 alongside of me. 
 
 " Why, she said it several times. Last evening, 
 for instance, when she accompanied us upstairs 
 before leaving, I said to her, ' Florence, I really 
 believe you have made nry cousin Jack in love 
 with you.' She laughed and answered, ' I believe 
 I have, dear.' I said, 'Are you glad?' 'I don't 
 know,' she answered; 'I won't say; you repeat 
 everything ! ' ' Indeed I don't,' said I. ' But 
 although he is my cousin I'm not afraid to say 
 he is worth twelve dozens of Beginald More- 
 combes." She cried ' Hush ! ' and looked at mamma, 
 who was having her cloak fastened by Amelia. 
 ' Have you no message for him ? ' said I. She 
 put her hand over my mouth and told me not to 
 be silly. Is that enough for you, Jack ? " 
 
 I have often wondered what sort of a face mine 
 was whilst Sophie talked in this strain. To judge
 
 142 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 from my feelings nothing could have been more 
 imbecile from the ludicrous delight expressed in it. 
 
 "Oh, Sophie!" I cried, "you are a sweet 
 creature to tell me all this. Is not she a darling 
 girl ? Leave Clifton ! No — though every lodging 
 in Bristol city was full, and there was nothing but 
 an old bathing-machine to sleep in." 
 
 "But what are your ideas?" asked Sophie. 
 "Mr. Hawke is certainly not likely to encourage 
 you." 
 
 " He may die," said I. "I only want Florence 
 to be true." 
 
 Sophie heaved a sigh. All this was in her vein ; 
 it was better than a story, for it was real and 
 happening before her; it abounded in living 
 sentiment, and, best of all, she was having a finger 
 in it. 
 
 "You must make her fond of you, and then 
 she'll be true," said she. 
 
 "I will," I replied; "but you must give me 
 a hand, Sophie. The time will come when I shall 
 only be able to meet her by stealth — if, indeed, she 
 ever consents to meet me secretly : and who is 
 there but you to whom I could trust the messages 
 I should want to send her ? " 
 
 " But if Mr. Hawke cuts us, and forbids Florence 
 to have anything to do with us, out of fear of 
 you " 
 
 " That's just it ! " I cried, fetching my knee a
 
 MISS HAWKE'S INSTRUCTIONS. 143 
 
 blow. " There you exactly hit what I'm afraid 
 of: and hence, if not for your aunt's sake, then for 
 my own, ought not I to clear out of this at once, 
 and let old Hawke suppose I have left Clifton ? " 
 
 She reflected, and then said, "No; better let 
 things take their chance. There's nothing like 
 honesty, Jack. Hiding is mean. Besides, it's 
 undignified. Are you not good enough to be 
 Mr. Hawke's son-in-law? What is his wealth 
 but a kind of peppermint that disguises a nasty 
 flavour ? If you hide and meet Florence secretly, 
 even supposing, as you say, that she consented to 
 appointments of that kind, you would only be 
 humbling yourself in her papa's opinion when he 
 came to hear of you, and lead him to suppose you 
 were ashamed of yourself for daring to look so high 
 as his daughter, and therefore skulked, as papa 
 would say." 
 
 "But it must be plain to you, Sophie," said I, 
 "that if I am to exhaust old Hawke's patience, I 
 can't go on living in yonder house. There is a limit 
 fjven to your father and mother's hospitality, and 
 old Hawke may hold out for the next ten years." 
 
 "Don't trouble yourself about him for the 
 present," responded the sagacious girl. " Think 
 of Florence." 
 
 "You mean, I must win her love before dis- 
 turbing myself about her papa?" Sophie nodded. 
 " Is it to be done, my darling ? "
 
 144 JACK'S COURTSPIIP. 
 
 " Now, Jack, if you cannot answer that question, 
 how should I ? " 
 
 " True, Sophie, true : but what I want to say is, 
 if her house is closed against rue, and a coolness 
 springs up between her family and yours, how the 
 dickens am I to see her ? " 
 
 " Amelia and I must arrange that matter some- 
 how," said she, knitting her plump brow in deep 
 reflection. " I don't suppose, even if Mr. Hawke 
 should cut us, that he could compel Florence not to 
 speak to us if we met her ; and there really ought 
 to be no difficulty in our meeting her, nor in your 
 being with us when we do meet." 
 
 " Oh, you clever girl ! " cried I, seizing her hand 
 and squeezing it. " But didn't your papa say I 
 was safe in your " 
 
 " Why talk of there's Florence now ! " she 
 
 exclaimed bouncing off the seat, and she ran as 
 hard as she could pelt across the lawn towards the 
 carriage -drive, along which Florence Hawke was 
 quietly walking. 
 
 I had a mind to follow, and I should have done 
 so had Miss Hawke shown by her manner that she 
 saw me. They kissed, and I expected them to 
 come my way : but instead, they walked towards 
 another part of the grounds after exchanging a 
 few words, and disappeared behind the house. I 
 remained seated, for I supposed that Sophie would 
 not let her friend go away without bringing her to
 
 MISS HAWK£*6 INSTRUCTION-. 145 
 
 me or calling to me to join them ; and sure enough, 
 in about twenty minutes — but not before ; and it 
 might have been twenty days for the tediousness 
 of it as a bit of expectancy and waiting — they 
 came slowly along the walk on the right of the 
 house. I stood up and bowed to Miss Hawke, 
 whose surprise on seeing me I accepted as perfectly 
 genuine. A little colour ran into her cheeks, but 
 if she felt any embarrassment she showed none. 
 With perfect composure she advanced and shook 
 hands with me, and at once accepted Sophie's 
 invitation to sit a few minutes in the shade before 
 going into the hot sunshine. The feeling that my 
 cousin and I had been deep in talk about her 
 infused a sort of shyness in me. After all, 
 bachelors are much more ingenuous and simple- 
 hearted than is believed. On the other hand, she 
 was as lady-like and sweet and self-possessed as if 
 we had never met before. 
 
 " What a very cool and fragrant nook this is, 
 Mr. Seymour ! " said she. " I wish we had such 
 grounds as these." ' 
 
 " Jack is afraid of his complexion, Florence," 
 said Sophie. " That is why he sits under the 
 trees." 
 
 " I left my complexion ashore when I went to 
 sea," I remarked, " and when I returned, although 
 I looked for it, I could not find it. How is Mr. 
 Morecombe this morning, Miss Hawke ? " 
 
 VOL. i. l
 
 146 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " He is likely to be confined to his room for 
 some days. But why do you ask ? — do you hope 
 he is better ? " 
 
 " Jack is a most bloodthirsty man, Florence," 
 cried Sophie. " He said he wished Mr. More- 
 combe had broken his neck instead of twisting his 
 leg for stepping on poor Flora." 
 
 "I suppose," said I, "you will be having the 
 animal buried soon ? " 
 
 " She was buried this morning," answered Miss 
 Hawke. " I shall have a little stone erected over 
 her. Don't smile, Mr. Seymour." 
 
 " I am not going to cry, Miss Hawke ; but I give 
 you my word I have not the least disposition to 
 smile." 
 
 "A dog," said Sophie," is often the faithfullest 
 friend one has ; and if a faithful friend don't 
 deserve a tombstone, I am sure I don't know who 
 does. Florence, will there be any harm in my 
 repeating to Jack what you have told me?" 
 
 " Do you mean now, dear ? " exclaimed Miss 
 Hawke, looking confused. 
 
 "If you like," said Sophie. "It is all his 
 doing. He will have to hear about it sooner or 
 later." 
 
 "If it is not to be a secret, Miss Hawke, I won't 
 ask you to trust me," said I, deeply admiring her 
 as she sat looking down, a warm colour in her 
 cheeks, her beautiful eyes half veiled, the gold
 
 MISS HAWKE'S INSTRUCTIONS. 147 
 
 threads in her hair glancing in the twinkling green 
 shadows cast by the trees, her faultless shape 
 most excellently expressed by the glove-like fit of 
 her simple morning dress. 
 
 "It is no secret," she replied, rallying and 
 speaking quietly. "It concerns the friendship 
 between your relatives and my family.". 
 
 " The long and short of it," burst out Sophie 
 with great heat, "is this: Mr. Hawke has 
 requested Florence to discontinue her visits here. 
 I know she doesn't like me to tell you this before 
 her, but I must either speak or die, for I have 
 never heard of anything more ridiculous and 
 unnecessary." 
 
 " What have you done to annoy Mr. Hawke, 
 Sophie '?" said I. 
 
 "What have we done? You mean what have 
 you done ? " she cried. " You have dared to 
 admire Florence, and for that our dear friend 
 here" (kissing her) "is commanded to drop our 
 acquaintance ! " 
 
 This was a tremendous stroke on Sophie's part. 
 I understood it ; I saw its prodigious value to 
 myself, but I confess I was awed by its audacity. 
 That she was distressing Miss Florence to an 
 extremity by whipping out with all this before me, 
 I could witness in the blushing face of the girl, 
 whose instincts were apparently helpless, for she 
 evidently did not know whether to go or stay, or
 
 148 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 how so to behave as to give by her conduct the 
 least possible significance to Sophie's blunt 
 candour. But it was a noble opportunity for nie, 
 though cruelly obtained, and, trembling as I was 
 and my heart beating wildly, I would not lose it. 
 
 " Were ten times worse than this to follow," said 
 I in a low voice to disguise the shake in it, "I 
 should still go on admiring you, Miss Hawke. 
 But if I am to be the only impediment to your 
 visits here, Mr. Hawke may at once withdraw his 
 commands, for I will leave my kind relations." 
 
 " I trust you will do nothing of the kind, Mr. 
 Seymour," exclaimed Miss Hawke, keeping her eyes 
 rooted to the ground. "I shall obey my father, 
 though I am disobedient now in calling; but it 
 will not be my fault if your relatives do not remain 
 the same warm friends of mine I have always 
 found them." 
 
 Here Sophie shed tears. " Oh, Florence, you 
 know we all love you ! How cruel and silly your 
 papa is ! — yes, cruel and silly ! — boo ! boo ! " 
 And, lo ! whilst she boo'd Miss Florence pulled 
 out her pockethandkerchief and put it to her eyes. 
 Was there ever a more moving sight ! I protest, 
 mates, I was very near turning to and having a 
 bit of a snuffle on my own account. 
 
 " It is a most unhappy business," said I. " But 
 there is only one remedy : I must go. I cannot 
 remain in a family whose peace of mind I am
 
 MISS HAWKE'S INSTRUCTIONS. 149 
 
 disturbing, and whose friends I am alienating. I 
 ought never to have come to Clifton. What made 
 my uncle go and find me out ? I have brought 
 trouble on him, and misery — yes, I will say misery 
 — on myself. And if you wish to know what I 
 mean, Miss Hawke. I'll explain by saying that it 
 is miserable to feel that I have no further oppor- 
 tunity of meeting you, of being in your company, 
 of even seeing you." 
 
 Here Sophie bounced up. " Florence, before 
 you go I want to say a word to Amelia about your 
 visit. Don't leave before I return,'' and away she 
 bundled across the lawn. 
 
 It was a neatly contrived stratagem, very trans- 
 parent, and of course as easily seen through by 
 Miss Hawke as the impassioned young chap along- 
 side of her. Possibly Sophie judged by my speech 
 that I was in a fit condition to make love, and so 
 hauled off at what she reckoned the right moment. 
 
 " I hope my cousin's candid tongue has not 
 vexed you, Miss Hawke," said I. " You will 
 ascribe her outspokenness to indignation. She 
 loves and admires you, and is angry to think that 
 she may lose you as a friend through no fault of 
 her own." 
 
 " Sophie is not a girl to vex anybody," she 
 replied. " Nor will she lose me as a friend." 
 
 "And I?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Seymour, we must hope to meet each
 
 150 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 other occasionally in our walks — that is, whilst 
 you remain here," she said, answering with some 
 confusion ; and then, perhaps fancying that I 
 might find more in that answer than she intended, 
 she added, " Clifton is not a very large place, and 
 people are constantly meeting.'' 
 
 "I quite understand," said I, making her a 
 little how. "But the sort of meetings you mean 
 promise but a poor look-out for me." 
 
 " But you have threatened to leave, and deprive 
 yourself, therefore, of even such small consolation 
 as a passing bow might afford you," said she, 
 laughing and talking more easily, though all this 
 while she never looked at me. 
 
 " I did not say I should leave the neighbour- 
 hood," I replied ; " only that house yonder." 
 
 This hove the darling right into the wind's eye 
 again. She was all aback in a breath, blushing, 
 bothered, and yet liking it ; couldn't I tell that ? 
 
 " Miss Hawke," said I, plucking up my heart 
 for a header, and going in, so to speak, with my 
 eyes shut and my hands clenched, "I'm but a 
 plain young fellow — I don't mean plain in the 
 sense of ugliness : my sea training has knocked 
 all power out of me of capering and smirking and 
 stepping round an emotion like a French dancing- 
 master. I can do no more than speak out, and 
 though I don't feel it is fair that I should be 
 tackling you alone here, calling as you have with-
 
 MISS HAWKERS INSTRUCTIONS. 151 
 
 out expecting to see me " (here she turned her 
 beautiful eyes up to me for the first time as if she 
 would say, 'Are you quite sure of that? 9 ) 3 "yet, 
 as I may not have another chance, I must tell you 
 how deeply I admire you — no, no, let me he honest 
 — let me say love you. From the moment I set 
 eyes on you sitting in that drawing-room over 
 there, with your poor old dog at your feet, you 
 have never been out of my thoughts. It seems 
 but yesterday — ay, you smile — well, the time ha3 
 been short enough. But then, think how much 
 we have been together, how kind and sweet and 
 gentle you have been to me. That is no compli- 
 ment.. I know — jou could not be otherwise. Of 
 course I ought not to talk to you like this. Mr. 
 Hawke would think me a villain were he behind 
 that tree ; but then I reckon no man ever yet told 
 a girl he was in love with her but that there was 
 some relative who would rather he should have 
 poisoned himself. You'll go away laughing when 
 you think of me — more amused than angry at my 
 presumption. But I've had my say ; you know 
 the truth ; and let your father now head you on 
 what course he will, no power on earth can prevent 
 3^ou from remembering that the young sailor fellow, 
 Jack Seymour, whom you met at his uncle's house, 
 was devotedly in love with you, the first girl he 
 ever saw in his life whom he could break his 
 clumsy young heart over."
 
 152 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 Mates, what do you say to this as a love-speech ? 
 How does it read ? I know it's an outburst that 
 staggers me to recall — plenty of it too, mind you, 
 and handsomely rounded like a bit of Parliament 
 jaw. Well I remember it, and that you may not 
 think I've improved it in the writing, let me tell 
 you you have the very words I used. It gave her 
 time to rally, and she stood up, and, looking at me 
 bravely, " Eest assured, Mr. Seymour," says she, 
 " that, let my future be what it will, I shall always 
 remember what you have said to me with pride" 
 and my darling was going on, but her colour 
 suddenly failed her, she put out her hand, and 
 said, " Good-bye." 
 
 " Won't you wait for Sophie ? " said I, keeping 
 hold of her hand. " Don't go without seeing her." 
 
 She smiled faintly and replied, "Sophie has 
 forgotten us. Besides, though I am not breaking 
 my word to papa, for I could not make him the 
 promise he wanted, I am here against his wish, 
 and must go. Good-bye." And in a moment she 
 was walking quickly to the gate watched by me, 
 who, for love of her, would have cheerfully con- 
 sented to crawl on my hands and feet after her 
 to her father's house, merely to kiss the imprint 
 of her feet. 
 
 Scarcely had she disappeared when Sophie came 
 along. "Where's Florence?" she asked. 
 
 " Gone home," said I.
 
 MISS HAWKE'S INSTRUCTIONS. 153 
 
 My cousin took a long look at me. The agita- 
 tion that worked in my soul was expressed, small 
 doubt, in my face. 
 
 "Did you say anything to drive her away, 
 Jack ? " asked she. 
 
 " I told her I was in love with her — that's all," 
 I answered. 
 
 " I thought you would — I thought you would ! " 
 cried she, looking mighty pleased. " Indeed, I 
 meant that you should. Why did I leave you 
 alone with her but for that? I had nothing to 
 speak to Amelia about. Haven't even seen Amelia. 
 What did Florence say? " 
 
 "Why," I answered, "she said that, let her 
 future be what it would, she would always re- 
 member my words with pride." 
 
 " Did she now — really ! And what did you say 
 to that?" 
 
 " You see, my dear, it was her answer to what I 
 had already said." 
 
 " But what was it that you said, Jack? I ought 
 to know. Good gracious, how can I help you if 
 you don't tell me what goes on ? " 
 
 " Well," said I, mumbling a trifle, for there is 
 no unpleasanter job a man can be set to than 
 having to recite the stuff he mouths to a girl in 
 an impassioned moment — it's like hearing an old 
 love-letter read out before a crowd ; "I told her 
 that I was devotedly in love with her, and that, let
 
 154 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 her father do what he pleased, he could never 
 make her forget that Jack Seymour had told her 
 she was the first girl he had ever met in his life 
 whom he could break his clumsy young heart 
 over." 
 
 " Did you say that really '! " cried Sophie, with 
 a face upon her as if she were witnessing a senti- 
 mental comedy when the most exciting part was 
 being acted. "How very pretty ! Florence is sure 
 to have liked that* But why ' clumsy ' young 
 heart ? ' Young heart ' is very well, but why 
 clumsy, Jack ? " 
 
 "Look here, Sophie," said I, "when a man 
 feels as I do and has to speak up, he says what 
 comes into his mouth out of his feelings. I felt I 
 talked clumsily, and that's why I used the word 
 clumsy. Don't criticize, or you'll make me think 
 I could have done better — an unpleasant reflection 
 when it's too late." 
 
 " At all events, you have confessed your feelings 
 to her," exclaimed Sophie. " She knows the truth 
 now." 
 
 " Yes, she knows the truth now," said I ; " and 
 it will be in her mind when young Morecombe's 
 leg gets well enough to enable him to plump down 
 on his knees to her — for I suppose he'll be pro- 
 posing marriage soon. Did she come here ex- 
 pressly to. tell you that her father had forbidden 
 her to call ? "
 
 MISS HAWKE'S INSTRUCTIONS. 155 
 
 " Yes. She was going to write, but was afraid 
 that she should not be able to make herself fully 
 understood in a letter. Besides, might not she 
 hope to get just another peep at the sailor man 
 she has fascinated ? " 
 
 " You mean to say, then, that Mr. Hawke has 
 actually forbidden her to visit you? " 
 
 " Whilst you are here,*' answered Sophie. 
 
 "Oh!" said I. 
 
 " I'll give you the story as she told it me," 
 exclaimed Sophie. " Last night, after we had left, 
 her father inquired if you and she had met before 
 that evening. Florence wanted to know why he 
 asked such a question. 'Because,' said he, 'of 
 the familiarity of young Mr. Seymour's manner to 
 you.' Florence denied that you were familiar, on 
 which Mr. Hawke flew into a rage, asked if his 
 daughter thought him blind, declared she had 
 encouraged you, and ordered her to say whether 
 she and you had met before. Of course she told 
 him the truth ; and on her informing him that she 
 had dined with us on the evening of your arrival, 
 that you had accompanied her and Amelia to the 
 Cathedral and taken a drive afterwards, and then 
 lunched at Clifton Lodge, his anger, she admitted, 
 was so great that he could barely speak. 
 1 Florence,' said he, ' I utterly forbid you to call 
 again upon the Seymours, or have any further 
 intercourse with them whilst that young man
 
 156 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 remains in their house.' She said, 'Very well, 
 papa ; but I must explain why to them, and I 
 certainly will not promise not to speak to Sophie 
 and Amelia if we meet out of doors.' What more 
 passed she did not tell me. No doubt he fumed 
 and stamped and went on rating her. Those 
 pompous men who are so anxious about the 
 world's opinion are often mean creatures and 
 tyrants in their own homes, when there are no 
 spectators but their family. She said her first 
 idea was to write ; then she resolved to call this 
 morning and tell mamma or me or Amelia that 
 her papa had forbidden her to visit us, and 
 why." 
 
 " That shows how much she likes you all," said 
 I. " She is a sweet woman — so tender and 
 sympathetic. I doubt if she would have the heart 
 to pick a flower for fear of causing it pain." 
 
 "I don't know about that, Jack," said Sophie. 
 " She is very fond of picking flowers. But, as you 
 say, her calling shows a very great liking for us, 
 for in a measure she has defied her papa by doing 
 so. And her coming at once proves her anxiety to 
 immediately prevent any chance of our misjudging 
 her. Amelia and I and she have been so much 
 together, that had a couple of days passed without 
 our seeing her we should have wondered." 
 
 "And have called, perhaps, and been affronted 
 by old Hawke or his flunkeys. To save you any
 
 MISS HAWKES INSTRUCTIONS. 157 
 
 risk of that kind might be one of her reasons in 
 coming here in a hurry after her father's kick-up. 
 How does she speak of Alphonso ! In bitterness ? " 
 
 "Oh no; in sorrow,"' replied Sophie. "She 
 softened the story in every way— I'm sure of that. 
 And all the time there was a kind of apology for 
 herself in her manner, as if it distressed her to 
 present her father in a disagreeable light ; though 
 if she were to talk at all about him she must speak 
 the truth.'" 
 
 " What do you think will be the end, Sophie ? " 
 said I. "Will her father get his way with her as 
 regards young Morecombe ? " 
 
 "No," cried she, warmly; "not in a thousand 
 years. All that he is doing makes her hate Mr. 
 Morecombe. Her spirit is not to be shaped by a 
 will — even though it be her father's — that she 
 cannot respect." 
 
 " Just my idea ! just my theory of her ! " I 
 exclaimed in a rapture. 
 
 " Though,'' continued Sophie, " I think this of 
 Florence : her father will never get her to marry a 
 man she does not care about ; but I do not think 
 she would ever marry in opposition to her father's 
 wishes. She would never become a wife to please 
 her father only ; but she'll die an old maid, I am 
 convinced, rather than defy him in the other 
 direction." 
 
 "There's no use in telling me that," said I.
 
 158 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 my spirits dropping in me like mercury before a 
 tempest. 
 
 "It's your own fault," laughed she; "you will 
 ask questions." And, looking at her watch, she 
 was about to leave me, saying something about 
 expecting a dressmaker. 
 
 14 Before you go, dear," said I, "just tell me, 
 will you, how: much of what has happened this 
 morning do you intend to repeat to your family ? " 
 
 "All that I know," [she answered, "which of 
 course excludes your piece of love-making." 
 
 "I am going into Bristol for a stroll," said I. 
 " Please tell your mamma I shall not return to 
 lunch. I want to have a look at the city docks — 
 the corporation quays, don't you call 'em?" 
 
 " Don't go near the water, Jack," said she ; 
 " there's a suicidal look in your face." 
 
 "No fear," said I. "I'm not born to be 
 drowned, as I found out when I fell overboard once 
 from a yardarm. Sophie, have I thanked you 
 for the interest you are taking in my — in my — 
 what shall I call it ? — in that sentimental business 
 which your father's invitation to Clifton has 
 plumped me into ? If I have not, accept now my 
 heartfelt gratitude. I am in earnest, Sophie. As 
 surely as that sky yonder is blue — is it, by the 
 way ? " said I, taking a squint aloft to make sure ; 
 "yes, a noble, deep-sea, South Pacific blue — so 
 surely do I intend to try my dead best — all that
 
 MISS HAWKE'S INSTRUCTIONS. 159 
 
 I know — to win Florence's love and possess her as 
 a wife. But I look to you and Amelia — and to you 
 chiefly — to help me." 
 
 " I'll help you, Jack." 
 
 • The odds against me are immense." 
 
 " Yes, they aiv ; but it is the odds which make 
 the fun and the interest." 
 
 '"' Ay, to others," I grumbled, as she made off 
 after taking another peep at her watch. 
 
 "Well, she was a dear girl. I sometimes think I 
 ought to have made a sweetheart of Sophie 
 Seyinour. How kind she was to listen to me and 
 encourage me ! She was a young lady who had never 
 had a lover, and had passed through life without 
 obtaining an}' further attention from men than plain 
 civilities. Wlien, instead of sneering at two young 
 people whose friends are one too many for them, 
 instead of viewing their transports with a jaundiced 
 eye. wondering that people can make themselves 
 ridiculous, and siding with the relatives of the 
 spoonies — when, I say, instead of doing all this, a 
 girl, destitute as Sophie was of tender experiences, 
 turns to and lays hold of the rope the lovers are 
 hauling upon, and pulls with them with all their 
 might, singing out cheerily as she drags, and urging 
 them to keep up their spirits and never dream of 
 letting go — then, mates, she deserves a pair of wings 
 and a crown on her head. She is of the right sort, 
 a real blessing. And do you know I have more
 
 160 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 than once thought that if the male of the two people 
 she helps were to drop the lady he is in tow of, 
 and tackle the woman who is lending them both 
 a hand, he would now and again do better than if 
 he held on to his original choice.
 
 ( 161 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 
 
 My motive in walking into Bristol was not to inspect 
 the docks and shipping, but to hire a lodging. I 
 did not relish the errand. It was a blow to be 
 obliged to give up my noble bedroom at my uncle's., 
 and the comfortable and plentiful hospitality of his 
 table, because old Hawke was a prig and a two- 
 penny squatter, who wanted his daughter to marry 
 a baronet's son, and would not suffer her to visit a 
 family because I was their guest. I say I did not 
 relish the errand. Nevertheless, it was a stern 
 duty. It was out of the question that I could con- 
 tinue standing between the friendship of Miss 
 Hawke and my cousins, that is, preventing them 
 from meeting at one or the other's house. Nor 
 could I be sure of my aunt's opinion on the subject. 
 She was kind, she was amiable, but she valued her 
 neighbours' opinion and liked society ; and do you 
 suppose that I could have gone comfortably to bed 
 in her house, that I could have sat down to a meal 
 VOL. i. m
 
 162 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 in it, haunted as I must certainly have been by the 
 misgiving that behind my back my aunt would be 
 saying to her husband, " Our nephew is a nice 
 youth ; but I cannot help thinking, dear, that he 
 would have shown a gentlemanly spirit in leaving 
 us when he knew that Florence was prohibited 
 from calling whilst he stayed " ? No : it was my 
 duty to my relations to "make tracks," as Jonathan 
 says, just as it was my duty to myself to look out 
 for lodgings in the neighbourhood. So, lighting a 
 cigar, I swung out of the grounds into the highway 
 and the blazing summer sun, and struck out for 
 Bristol city. 
 
 The truth is, though I could very easily have 
 found the accommodation I wanted in Clifton, I 
 considered that it would be unwise to bring up in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of old Hawke's man- 
 sion : it would have been a little too defiant. He 
 was bound to hear that I had left my uncle and 
 where I was living ; and though Bristol, as every- 
 body knows, is within an easy walk of Clifton, yet 
 the sense of adjacency, and the consternation and 
 anger it would arouse in him, were not likely to be 
 so violent in the old chap if he heard I was lodging 
 in Bristol as if he should be told, " Jack Seymour, 
 sir ? Oh, he lives round the corner. You may see 
 his diggings from your daughter's bedroom window, 
 sir." 
 
 And do you ask, my lads, what scheme I had —
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 163 
 
 what policy ? I am talking about old Hawke's con- 
 sternation and anger as if I was afraid of him. 
 Now I had no policy at all. I was a young fellow 
 deeply in love, forced by a sense of honour, or 
 courtesy, or whatever you please, to quit my 
 uncle's roof, but constrained by my passion for 
 Florence Hawke to dwell in the neighbourhood. 
 Some dim hope of making her as much in love 
 with me as I was with her, and of inducing her 
 to elope, haunted me. A dim hope it was, vague 
 and thin, yet it had a kind of lurking life in me too, 
 and so I confess it. But policy ! Heaven bless 
 your hearts, I had none. Never was a courtship 
 begun more aimlessly, never were chances heavier 
 against a man. Had I had an occupation in 
 London, all that I am writing would have been 
 impossible. I should have had to return to my 
 work, and there would have been an end of this 
 sentimental spasm. But I had nothing to do ; 
 it was all the same whether I lived in London or 
 Bristol. I was twenty-five, an age of immense 
 resolutions and poetic fancies ; I had two cousins 
 who goaded me on ; I had met with no particular 
 hindrance in the young lady herself; above all, I 
 was deeply, honestly, enthusiastically in love, with 
 an absolute scorn of Hawke's gold, and with no 
 other desire, as I call my conscience to witness, 
 than the possession of my Australian beauty. 
 And so, mates, you have in a few lines all the
 
 164 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 reasons I can offer for walking into Bristol to seek 
 a lodging. 
 
 I found rooms better suited to my purse than 
 my ambition in a little bouse not far from College 
 Green, to which neighbourhood I had been directed, 
 possibly, by the memory of the morning I had spent 
 with Miss Hawke in the cathedral there. I had 
 to choose with care as to the cost, for I had my 
 London lodgings still on my hands, so that the two 
 rents together might easily mount into the charge 
 for a big house. The Bristol woman, who was a 
 gardener's wife, named Mrs. Chump, a person with 
 a severe eye, dressed in black, agreed to let me have 
 a sitting-room and bedroom together, with a plain 
 breakfast, for fifteen shillings a week. This I agreed 
 to pay, undertaking to shift for myself in my other 
 meals; and it was settled that I should instal 
 myself that evening. 
 
 As I stood looking about me in the little parlour 
 — the furniture poor, though clean, a few prints of 
 naval victories on the walls, a circular convex mirror 
 reposing like a shield upon the mantelpiece, and 
 causing the observer to recoil as he remarked the 
 hideous caricature of himself in it — I could not help 
 wondering whether I was not making a very great 
 fool of myself in loitering in Bristol instead of 
 returning to London. The poor bit of a room I 
 <?azed at set me thinking of the spacious and glit- 
 tering chambers of Clifton Lodge. I imagined
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 165 
 
 !Miss Hawke passing along outside in her papa's 
 fine carriage, and taking a peep at her admirer's 
 lodgings, and thinking to herself, " This is the sort 
 of life he 'would bring me to were I to marry him." 
 Upon my honour, it wanted the spirit of a giant to 
 sustain such a shock as that reflection gave me. 
 The idea of her despising me because I had dared 
 to fall in love with her on no sounder merits than 
 an income incapable of yielding me better lodgings 
 than these, was truly awful. And let me tell you, 
 boys, that I was not the less devoted because I was 
 capable of thinking that one good look at my apart- 
 ments might make her despise me ; for a man may 
 be desperately in love with a girl, and yet possess 
 so sensitive a disposition as never to doubt that it 
 would take very little to cause her to turn up her 
 nose at him and back away with a sneer. Perfect 
 love, they say, casteth out fear, but I reckon you 
 must first get your love perfect on both sides. 
 
 Anyway, such was the mood these lodgings flung 
 me into, that I am very positive had any friend been 
 at my elbow and asked me to consider what I was 
 doing, I should have pulled my hat over my ears 
 and slept that night in London town. But there 
 was no friend at hand to usefully direct my passing 
 mood ; and being left to myself, why, before I had 
 measured half the distance to my uncle's house, 
 the feelings which had determined me to stick to 
 the district were once more bubbling and poppling
 
 166 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 in full force in my foolish young heart, and I was 
 swearing to myself that, come what might, so long 
 as Florence Hawke gave me a fraction of encourage- 
 ment to persevere and hope, I would never lose 
 sight of her nor cease to believe that I might one 
 day get her to share my future. 
 
 On my way to Clifton I turned into a confec- 
 tioner's shop to get a mouthful to eat, and whilst I 
 was munching a sandwich on top of a high stool, 
 and glowering through the window, that was filled 
 with bottles of candy, glass jellies, and such things, 
 Miss Hawke and her sister drove past ; they swept 
 by rapidly, yet not so fast but that I could notice 
 how lovely Miss Florence looked in a brown hat 
 with the starboard brim looped up. I hopped off 
 my perch and, sandwich in hand, ran to the door 
 to follow her with my eyes, but saw nothing but 
 the back of her parasol, surmounted by the square 
 large figure of the coachman as the carriage rolled 
 downhill. 
 
 I proceeded on my way, my thoughts full of the 
 beautiful girl, and asking myself all sorts of ques- 
 tions. Could she ever endure to surrender all the 
 luxury her father was accustoming her to for a poor 
 husband ? Was there the least probability of my 
 ever getting her to love me ? And would her love 
 be of such a kind as to induce her to act as one 
 reads of girls behaving in story-books, and now and 
 then in real life; as, for instance, when a noble-
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 167 
 
 man's daughter sacrifices fortune, friends,, and 
 family for a fiddler ? or when Letitia declines a 
 settlement and the brother of an earl for a mis- 
 sionary ? 
 
 On reaching home and passing along the drive to 
 the hall door, I caught sight of my uncle sitting at 
 the open window of his library. He lounged in an 
 American chair which hoisted his legs up ; a news- 
 paper was on his knee, and a long pipe in his hand. 
 I caught a glimpse of my aunt behind him, a mere 
 outline in the shadow, with a yellow-backed novel 
 on her lap and her chin upon her bosom. She was 
 dozing. And the right kind of afternoon it was for 
 that diversion — an Indian heat in the soft breeze 
 that kept the trees rustling ; bees chorussing a sort 
 of bass to the clear treble of the birds ; a rich 
 soothing smell of hay mingled with the scents of 
 the flowers — just one of those days, indeed, when 
 the noble form of the tramp may be seen extended 
 at full length in the wayside dry-ditch, with a clout 
 over his face to keep off the wasps, and a wisp 
 under each knee to save the heels of his breeches 
 — a day in which a man who despises ants' nests 
 and defies sunstroke would select for a snooze in 
 the middle of a field of tall grass. 
 
 " Hillo, Jack ! " sung out my uncle, spying me, 
 " where have you been, my lad ? Sophie said 
 something about your going to view the docks, and 
 that we were not to expect you to lunch."
 
 168 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 His shout awoke my aunt. I stepped into the 
 room through the window, glad to rest myself ; for 
 a man's legs should be made of cork not to feel like 
 a bundle of knots after the ascent of those Clifton 
 hills in the dog-days. 
 
 " I have been into Bristol," said I, " but not to 
 look at the docks. Where's Sophie, aunt ? " 
 
 " She and Amelia have gone to pay some visits, 
 I believe," answered my aunt. 
 
 " Not to the Hawkes, Jack," said my uncle, 
 grinning. " I suppose you know what's hap- 
 pened?" 
 
 " Yes ; I was with Sophie when Miss Hawke 
 called." 
 
 "She's an honest lass," said my uncle, "to come 
 with the news plump — not to delay, but to be here 
 with it first thing in the morning, so that there 
 might be no mistake so far as she and we are con- 
 cerned. I am sorry you drove her away. I should 
 like to have had a word with her." 
 
 "I don't know that I drove her away, uncle," said 
 I, much confused. My cousin, of course, had told 
 all. 
 
 "I say, Sophia," called out my uncle, "what 
 d'ye think of this generation ? What's your calcu- 
 lation concerning these times ? Fancy youngsters, 
 not only falling in love, but making love — actually 
 whipping out with their sentiments after two or 
 three meetings with the girls. Don't it beat cock-
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 169 
 
 fighting? What would our papas and mammas 
 have thought of such energy ? I put it all clown 
 to George Stephenson. Had he left the stage- 
 coach alone, we'd have been going along at the old 
 decorous rate of seven or eight miles an hour, and 
 a long lounge between whiles at the hostelries. 
 Nowadays the world's in tow of the locomotive; 
 and we make love, we make money, we are born, 
 we live, and we die with our steam-gauges indicating 
 a steam pressure one remove from bursting point." 
 
 " You see what I feared has taken place, Mr. 
 Jack," said my aunt, putting a mark in her book 
 and closing it. " Mr. Hawke has taken offence ; 
 and, though no doubt we shall remain on bowing 
 terms with Florence and Emily, our visiting must 
 be considered at an end." 
 
 " Well, if I meet Hawke I'll shake hands with 
 him ; but he'll never get me across his threshold 
 again," exclaimed my uncle. " The old coxcomb ! 
 think of him prohibiting his daughter from visiting 
 us. I wish I had him at sea, I'd work his old 
 iron up." 
 
 "I cannot blame him," said my aunt. "It is 
 exceedingly mortifying so far as we are concerned, 
 because we are really quite innocent of any inten- 
 tion to mortify him. But if you will put yourself 
 in his place, Mr. Jack, and imagine yourself 
 anxious that your daughter should marry the man 
 of your own choosing, and then conceive you were
 
 170 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 told that during your absence she had been fre- 
 quently in the company of a young stranger who 
 did not disguise that he was in love with her, I am 
 sure you would wish to terminate the intimacy by 
 desiring her not to call upon the family whilst the 
 young man continues in their house as a guest." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said I. "I do not 
 blame Mr. Hawke." 
 
 " Mind ! I do not excuse his views of marriage," 
 she continued. " I consider his anxiety to marry 
 his child to a man she does not like odious. I am 
 only trying to justify his behaviour so far as we, or 
 rather so far as you, are concerned, mortifying as 
 it is to us." 
 
 " I was going to ask him to dinner," said my 
 uncle, laughing. " D'ye remember my saying that 
 he wouldn't come ? He's done more — he's gone 
 leagues ahead of my prophecy ! Oh, he's an old 
 fool ! " and he smoked his pipe vehemently. 
 
 "I am extremely vexed," said I, addressing my 
 aunt, " that I should have been the means of sub- 
 jecting you to this annoyance." 
 
 " It's no annoyance," called out my uncle. 
 " The girls liked Florence, and she's still their 
 friend. There's nothing to bother over." 
 
 "It is perfectly true," I continued, "that I am 
 in love with Miss Hawke. It would be ridiculous 
 in me to attempt to conceal what you can all see. 
 But Mr. Hawke must surely have a great deal of
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 171 
 
 the Turk as well as the prig in his nature to 
 forbid her, so to speak, to unveil her face to any 
 man but the person he wants her to marry. If 
 she can endure discipline of that kind, she has not 
 the spirit I want to believe she has." 
 
 " Just my opinion, Jack — what I said when 
 Sophie gave us the news," said my uncle. 
 
 "He was annoyed by the marked attention you 
 paid Florence last night," said my aunt. 
 
 "Yes; and by her liking it," observed my 
 uncle. 
 
 "If," said my aunt, " your manner, Mr. Jack, 
 had not been so pronounced — if my husband had 
 not, as I must say, rather foolishly yielded Miss 
 Hawke to you by pretending to mistake the 
 daughter he was asked to give his arm to, there 
 would have been no grounds for Mr. Hawke's 
 suspicions, and he would not have said anything 
 to Florence about her visits here. It is ridiculous 
 to imagine he would act in this manner to all 
 young men and the families they might be staying 
 with. But, unfortunately, he had only to com- 
 bine my husband's deliberate mistake with your 
 behaviour to his daughter, to suspect even more 
 than was intended. I mean, he would believe your 
 uncle was playing into your hands, and had asked 
 you down in the hope of your securing Florence as 
 a wife." 
 
 " A good job too ! " said my uncle. "I respect
 
 172 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 loyalty in relations, and heartily hope that's his 
 notion. Why shouldn't I find my brother Tom's 
 son a pretty heiress for a helpmate ? Isn't he good 
 enough for Florence Hawke ? " 
 
 "That's not the point, Charles," replied my 
 aunt. 
 
 " Anyway," continued my uncle, " you may take 
 it that Florence don't think herself too good for 
 Jack. What do you think, nephew ? There's a 
 meaning in her hurrying round here this morning 
 to pour her yarn about her papa's severity into 
 Sophie's ear, which I should take to my heart and 
 cuddle if I were twenty-five years old, single, and 
 her admirer. And does the old fellow really sup- 
 pose he is going the right way to work to make his 
 daughter do what he wants ? What fools there 
 are in this world ! " 
 
 " There is only one way," said I, addressing 
 my aunt, " of pleasantly ending this unfortunate 
 affair." 
 
 " Not by giving Florence up — surely ? " cried my 
 uncle. 
 
 "The condition," I went on, "is that Miss 
 Hawke is only to cease visiting you whilst I remain 
 your guest." 
 
 "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Jack," cried my aunt, 
 lifting up her hands ; " there are two sides to 
 that condition. We shall always be glad to see 
 Florence ; but after what has passed, none of us —
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 173 
 
 I speak of my own particular family — could ever 
 dream of calling on the Hawkes again ! " 
 
 " At all events," said I, " the condition, so far 
 as Miss Hawke is concerned, relates to me, and me 
 only. I will not say I have already trespassed 
 upon your kindness " 
 
 " None of that ! " bawled my uncle. 
 
 "I mean this," said I; "it is out of the question 
 that Miss Hawke can be debarred from visiting you 
 by me. I must therefore leave you." 
 
 " When ? " said my uncle. 
 
 "To-day." 
 
 " By what train ? " 
 
 " By no train at all. I have taken lodgings in 
 Bristol." 
 
 My aunt looked startled, my uncle incredulous. 
 
 " Taken lodgings in Bristol ! " cried he. " When 
 did you do that ? " 
 
 " Just now." 
 
 He turned to his wife and stared at her. " Well," 
 said he, drawing a deep breath, " Jack's a darned 
 modest fellow, anyhow." 
 
 " I hope you are not in earnest," said my aunt, 
 whose kind heart did not at all relish this new 
 posture in me, although she might consider I was 
 acting very properly. 
 
 "I am indeed," I replied. " I have hired a 
 couple of rooms, and remove there this evening. 
 After the kindness you have shown me, it is painful
 
 174 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 to be forced to leave you in this fashion. But I 
 know my duty. Mr. Hawke shall have no further 
 excuse to deprive his daughter of my cousins' 
 society. Besides, I must not forget I have already 
 been here a fortnight, and I never intended to 
 inflict my society upon you for a longer term." 
 
 My uncle sat listening and looking at me with 
 his head on one side, his right eye half closed, and 
 his face full of thought. I had fully expected an 
 explosion of affronted cordiality, of indignant hos- 
 pitality, and was therefore not a little surprised to 
 find him silent and contemplative. It was my 
 aunt who expostulated, and I must say she tried 
 hard to induce me to prolong my visit. She said 
 that whether I went or whether I stayed could not 
 in the least degree alter matters now. She heartily 
 hoped there had been nothing in her manner to 
 cause me to leave. Since I meant to stop in 
 Bristol, she could not understand why I thought 
 it necessary to take lodgings when her house was 
 at my service. To which I replied that I was 
 exceedingly obliged to her for her kindness, and 
 that I should part from her with great regret and 
 much gratitude for the hospitality I had received. 
 
 All this while my uncle continued watching me. 
 He waited until my aunt had given up trying 
 to coax me, and then said, " Jack, what makes 
 you stop in Bristol? Why don't you return to 
 London?"
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 175 
 
 "Because I like the air here," said I. 
 
 " Have you given up your town lodgings ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Can you afford to keep two sets of rooms going 
 on something under two hundred and fifty pounds 
 a year ? " cried he. 
 
 " I must endeavour to do so," I replied. 
 
 " Sophia," he exclaimed, " I suppose you can 
 guess why Jack sticks to Bristol? " 
 
 " It is not hard to understand," she answered. 
 
 "Well," continued he, talking to her as though 
 I were not present, "it proves that he is in earnest. 
 And as that's so, he ought not to miss of our 
 encouragement and goodwill. He knows Florence 
 through us ; he can charge us with having shown 
 him the road into this business ; and we're bound 
 not to leave him up to his waist in it, more 
 especially since old Hawke's behaviour has re- 
 lieved us of all sense of our duty towards our 
 neighbour." 
 
 " Don't trouble about me," said I. " If I am up 
 to the waist now, I'll scramble out by-and-by some- 
 how, depend upon it." 
 
 My uncle left his chair and walked about the 
 room, and shortly afterwards my aunt went away, 
 being signalled by him to do so, as I might judge 
 by the manner of her going. When the door was 
 closed upon her, my uncle asked me where I had 
 taken lodgings. I told him. He then inquired at
 
 176 JACK'S COUKTSHir. 
 
 what charge I should be, and this question also I 
 answered. 
 
 " You have quite made up your mind to leave 
 us ? " said he. 
 
 " I have," I replied, " and for the reasons I have 
 given." 
 
 "All right," said he; "we'll say no more on 
 that head. If you had stayed we should have been 
 glad. Since you icont stop, you must go. But 
 what is your scheme ? what do you hope to do 
 by living in Bristol ? Surely Florence isn't pledged 
 to you, is she ? Hang me, if I'm not in a mind 
 to believe anything ! " 
 
 "I wish she were," cried I. "Loving her as I 
 do — as she knows I do, and I say thank God for 
 that ! — do you think I could go and put a hundred 
 miles of railway between us ? I may be acting 
 like a fool — or, what is the same thing, like a very 
 young man; but whilst Miss Hawke remains single 
 I must keep near her, in the hope of seeing her, of 
 meeting her, of talking to her, of winning her love, 
 and — and " 
 
 " Bolting with her, d'ye mean ? " asked he. 
 
 I made no answer. 
 
 "Well," said he, "boil me alive, Jack, if you 
 don't deserve all the luck you may get. Upon my 
 word, this business is like one of those romances I 
 used to read when a lad, where the heroine elopes 
 with the hero in a thunderstorm, and returns with
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 177 
 
 her husband after many adventures to receive the 
 tremulous blessing of her aged father the Duke." 
 
 Seeing, however, that this banter was not much 
 to my taste, though I forced a sickly grin whilst he 
 talked, he grew serious, said that though he did 
 not find fault with me for falling in love with 
 Florence Hawke and clinging to the place in 
 which she lived, I ought not to forget that my 
 prospects, so far as she was concerned, were 
 exceedingly small. For, first, I had to make her 
 in love with me — and had I substantial reasons for 
 supposing I could succeed ? Second, in order to 
 make her in love with me it was necessary that we 
 should meet ; and how was that to be managed 
 now that I had left his house and was tabooed by 
 her father? Third, even if I induced her to meet 
 me, and succeeded in gaining her love, did I think 
 she was likely to defy her father by so bold and 
 reckless a step as an elopement ? And if I did not 
 suppose her capable of any audacious action of 
 that kind, what ideas was I flattering myself with ? 
 He would tell me this : that unless I could get her 
 to bolt with me I should never win her as a wife ; 
 and since there was no girl he ever remembered 
 meeting less likely to elope with a man than 
 Florence Hawke, he would earnestly advise me — 
 not, indeed, to relinquish my pursuit ; there was 
 no harm in my taking lodgings in Bristol ; it was a 
 healthier place than London ; its temptations were 
 
 VOL. I. n
 
 178 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 few, and I could save money, but — not to allow 
 my hopes of success to gather too much weight, 
 lest disappointment should prove a severer punish- 
 ment than I had any suspicion of. 
 
 He talked to me, indeed, very much as old 
 Crusoe talked to young Eobinson ; and as with 
 that famous person, so, had I allowed my uncle's 
 counsels to influence me, I should have been spared 
 some adventures very nearly as strange and sur- 
 prising as those which befell Defoe's hero — though 
 to be sure they were not limited to an uninhabited 
 island, nor did they last, thank goodness, eight 
 and twenty years. 
 
 After he had eased his mind by lecturing me, my 
 uncle seated himself at a writing-table, and asked 
 me how long I was likely to use the lodgings I had 
 taken. I told him I had no notion. " But how 
 long," says he, " d'ye mean to give yourself either 
 to win the girl or drop all thoughts of her ? " I 
 replied that there was no good in asking me ques- 
 tions of that kind, as it was impossible for me to 
 answer them. 
 
 " Do you reckon," says he, " on stopping in 
 Bristol six months ? " 
 
 " Well," said I, laughing at his importuning me 
 in this manner, " I ought pretty well to know 
 where I am at the end of six months." 
 
 On this he pulled open a drawer and took out a 
 cheque-book ; and after making some calculations
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 179 
 
 -on a piece of paper, lie filled up a cheque and 
 handed it to me. 
 
 "There, my boy," said he, "put that in your 
 pocket. I'll pay for six months' lodging." 
 
 I looked at the cheque and saw that it was for 
 fifty pounds. I was taken plump aback by his 
 kindness, and for some moments could only look 
 stupidly at the cheque. I then put it on the table, 
 told him that I had no words to thank him for his 
 generosity, but that I was not in want of money, 
 and was very well able to support such expenses as 
 I was likely to bring upon myself. What followed 
 came very near to being a quarrel. He called me an 
 ungrateful young son of a cook. Had I not assured 
 him that nothing but Mr. Hawke's instructions to 
 Florence drove me away ? I answered yes. Then, 
 he wanted to know, what right had I to insult him 
 fusing to remain his guest on my own terms ? 
 
 " I don't understand you," said I. 
 
 " Why, man," cried he, " don't you see that, as 
 you say you can't be comfortable in this house 
 owing to Alphonso Hawke's orders to his daughter, 
 I'm taking lodgings for you in the neighbourhood, 
 keeping you as a sort of out-door guest ; and that 
 instead of paying your landlady myself I am 
 asking you to pa}' her for me ? Can't you under- 
 stand that, you swab ? " 
 
 ••Yes," I replied; "but I'm hanged if I'm a 
 swab ! "
 
 180 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " How's that ? — not a swab ! " cried he. " Were 
 you not, would you be so thick and flabby in your 
 intellects as to offer to pay a gentleman whose 
 guest you are for your own keep ? Take that 
 cheque, man, and let's have no more jaw." 
 
 As it was certain that he would have resented 
 any further refusal of it as an affront, I put the 
 cheque in my pocket, thanking him as heartily for 
 his kindness as the temper I was in by being called 
 a son of a cook and a swab would suffer. How- 
 ever, as you may suppose, this fit of irritation did 
 not last long. Indeed, I should have deserved very 
 much harder names than my uncle had bestowed 
 on me had I not appreciated the fatherly goodwill 
 he was showing me. And though I had talked as 
 if I did not want the money, give me leave to say 
 that in the depths of my soul I found it a mighty 
 acceptable gift, and that, trifling as the sum was. 
 it distinctly heartened me up and made me take a 
 cheerfuller view of the extraordinary waiting-job I 
 had set myself; so magical is the influence of 
 vulgar dross upon the mind even when wholly 
 occupied by sentiment. 
 
 I sent my luggage down into Bristol by Cobb 
 the man-servant, with a message to the landlady 
 that I would arrive at her house between nine and 
 ten o'clock. " And, Cobb," said I to the man, "be 
 good enough to tell her to buy me a bottle of 
 cognac and put it on the table along with some
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 181 
 
 soda-water ; " for, to speak the truth, after the 
 music, the conversation, the company of my rela- 
 tions and friends, the pleasant evenings I had 
 passed at my uncle's house, winding up with 
 cigars, iced drinks, moonlight wanderings among 
 the trees, and the like, I recoiled from the prospect 
 of the loneliness of the first night in the little 
 lodgings, and foresaw the necessity of some pro- 
 vision against low spirits. If there be any teeto- 
 tallers among you, don't be shocked. I do not 
 know that in all my life, mates, I ever took a 
 thimbleful more of grog than my head could carry ; 
 but I'll tell you this — there have been occasions 
 when a well-timed glass of liquor has served me 
 better than a clap on the back or a handshake — at 
 sea, look you, where, after twelve hours of heart- 
 breaking work with the pumps or up aloft, nothing 
 but the caulker of rum served out under the break 
 of the poop by the light of a bull's-eye lamp could 
 have furnished me with physical force enough to 
 crawl up the rigging for the twentieth time to help 
 the others to stow the remnants of what had been 
 a brand-new close-reefed sail. 
 
 When Sophie and Amelia returned from making 
 their visits, and were told that I had lined lodgings 
 in Bristol and meant to quit their house for good 
 that evening, they stared at me as if I had taken 
 leave of my senses. My aunt, my uncle, and I 
 were in the drawing-room killing a half-hour before
 
 182 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 dinner when the girls came in, and I see them now, 
 fat, amazed, agitated, as my aunt said, " Sophie, 
 Amelia, what do you think? Mr. Jack has taken 
 apartments in Bristol, and is going to them this 
 evening. In fact, he actually sleeps in them to- 
 night ; so that we lose him with wonderful sudden- 
 ness," says she, nodding fast as she spoke. 
 
 A variety of exclamations broke from the girls : 
 "Apartments in Bristol ! " " Going this evening! " 
 " Sleeps there to-night ! " 
 
 Here I cried, " Don't you think I am better than 
 a circulating library ? What novel can approach 
 the sensation I cause by my movements ? " 
 
 " But why are you leaving, Jack? " said Sophie. 
 ""What has happened? " and she ran her eyes over 
 her papa and mamma, in search, maybe, of the 
 traces of a recent quarrel ; for the dear creature 
 had never dreamt for a moment that I was in 
 earnest when I told her it was my duty to clear 
 out of the house. My aunt up and spoke ; related 
 my reason for going, with all the garnishing that a 
 woman's fluent tongue could furnish to a simple 
 yarn, and wound up by a fresh and rather wild 
 appeal to me to reconsider my decision and not be 
 foolish. 
 
 "It's too late — everything's settled; let us have 
 no more of this, Sophia,' growled my uncle, casting, 
 nevertheless, a somewhat admiring eye upon his 
 wife, in whose cheeks the heat of her own volu-
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 183 
 
 bility and energy of gesticulation had kindled 
 a bright colour, and who, what with her well- 
 fitting dress, long train, fine figure, thick hair 
 (every scrap of it her own, my uncle once assured 
 me), good teeth, and shining eyes, looked, I am 
 bound to say, uncommonly handsome, and twenty 
 years too young to be the mother of the two 
 plump, full-grown women who stood listening to 
 her, lost in wonder and ingenuous excitement. I 
 really could not help feeling flattered when I 
 observed the annoyance and disappointment my 
 cousins showed on discovering that it was all true 
 — that I had taken lodgings and was quitting their 
 roof in a few hours. They had a sisterly affection 
 for me ; besides, they might have found it nice to 
 have a young man in the house, not offensively 
 ugly as men go, a young fellow to drive with, to 
 introduce, to be seen with. 
 
 " I should certainly, if I were you, Jack," said 
 Sophie, eyeing me (bless her !) almost tearfully, 
 "be above allowing Mr. Hawke to drive you away 
 from your relatives, who, you well know, are very 
 glad to have you with them." 
 
 " Unless, indeed, Jack is tired of us and wants 
 to regain the independence which only lodgings 
 can confer, so men say," observed Amelia, whose 
 satire was neutralized by her corpulence and 
 excessively good-natured face as fast as it flowed. 
 
 However, my uncle, who was sick of the subject
 
 18<± JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 — and small blame to him — begged bis daughters 
 to say no more about it ; Jack meant to go ; he 
 knew his own business best ; let him then, in the 
 name of peace, depart without any more argu- 
 ments. So, in compliance with his request, we 
 changed the conversation and presently went to 
 dinner, which, in spite of all my efforts after a 
 cheerful exterior and sprightly observations, was 
 so dull, flat, and melancholy a meal that anybody 
 might have supposed we were only lingering over 
 funeral refreshments until the hearse and the 
 mourning coaches drove up. Sophie, who was 
 full of my going, tried several times to start me 
 as a topic, making sundry feints by vague questions 
 and observations about the Hawkes ; but she was 
 regularly parried and dealt with by her papa, who 
 forced her to retire with confusion ; until at last 
 there seemed to dawn upon us all the conviction 
 that any further references to my departure would 
 be in bad taste. But after dinner, and when my 
 uncle and I had been sitting together for a short 
 time, the window being open, I spied Sophie out- 
 side flitting about in the gloom. I was anxious to 
 have a few words with her before going, so I 
 stepped on to the lawn. 
 
 Sophie instantly began : " When did you take 
 the apartments, Jack? " 
 
 " This morning," I replied. 
 
 "You told me you were going to look at the
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 185 
 
 city docks. Why didn't you explain your real 
 motive ? " said she, reproachfully. 
 
 "Because," I answered, " I wanted to make my 
 arrangements before speaking, so that I might be 
 able to say it is too late when you all, in your 
 great kindness, should, as I knew you would, try to 
 persuade me to remain here." 
 
 " I am not going to persuade you," said she. 
 " But what good can you do in lodgings ? You 
 are much less likely to see Florence than were 
 you to stop with us." 
 
 " Ay, Sophie ; but will you tell me how long in 
 decency I ought to go on burdening you with my 
 company ?" 
 
 "As long as ever you like," said she. "You 
 know it is no burden. We are delighted to have 
 you." 
 
 "Yes; but that does not render it the more 
 proper in me to encroach on your kindness. Now, 
 in lodgings I can take my time. I can never be 
 embarrassed by the feeling that I am trespassing. 
 Besides, I shall be as comfortable in Bristol as in 
 London." 
 
 " But what do you mean to do ? You can't call 
 on Florence. Do you expect her to call on yotiP " 
 
 " I am full of expectation," I replied. " And 
 why ? because I have you as a friend, Sophie. I 
 can count upon your sympathy ; I feel that I can 
 rely upon your affection for your foolish young
 
 186 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 cousin to help him in his love for your beautiful, 
 your adorable friend." 
 
 I seized her plump hand ; and indeed, boys, it 
 was just the sort of night for sentimental twaddle 
 — warm, dark, the stars large and luminous, the 
 atmosphere breathless, the stillness full of fra- 
 grance, with now and again the notes of a clarion- 
 tongued bird coming out of the deeper darkness 
 where the trees were — I seized her plurnp hand, 
 I tell you, pressed and fondled it, and she laughed, 
 low and gratefully, a laugh full of relish and satis- 
 faction. Upon my word, when I look back, it does 
 not gratify my vanity to think that she was not 
 desperately in love with me : for in my thankful- 
 ness for her sympathy and kindness, and with the 
 image of Florence always in my mind's eye, I 
 would talk to her so sentimentally, caress her 
 hand, breathe in her ear and the like, that there 
 would have been little to wonder at had she come 
 to the conclusion that the other girl was only an 
 excuse, and that it was she I adored. 
 
 " So far as Amelia and I are concerned, we will 
 do all that we can to help you, Jack," said she. 
 ■' But understand : we can do nothing unless we 
 discover that Florence thinks of you, and likes to 
 hear of you. We'll carry letters and messages 
 between }^ou as often as may be wanted ; and I, 
 for one, shall take a particular delight to do what 
 I can to put 3 T ou in the place young Mr. More-
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 187 
 
 combe wants to fill, and to thwart Mr. Hawke — 
 for I quite hate that old man now. But if Florence 
 is cold about you, if she should not like to be 
 reminded of you, we shall be unable to help ; for 
 you know, Jack, that men cannot make love by 
 proxy, unless they happen to be kings." 
 
 "Don't discourage me," said I, "on the very 
 threshold. I don't ask you to make love to her 
 for me, but you might, when you meet her " 
 
 "I shall meet her often, I hope; and I shall 
 speak to her as often as we meet, unless she is 
 with her father," interrupted Sophie. 
 
 "I say, no harm could come from your telling 
 her how devoted I am, how deeply I love her, and 
 why I have left Clifton, and why I cannot leave 
 Bristol." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, Jack ; I can tell her that, and 
 a great deal more ; and if she is fond of you I 
 shall not be able to tell her too much, and you 
 shall know all that she says about you exactly — 
 good or bad ; so that you will be able to decide 
 whether to go on lingering in lodgings in Bristol, 
 or return here, or go back to London." 
 
 "And Sophie, my darling," said I, "if you find 
 that she doesn't give my name the cold shoulder, 
 but, on the contrary, is pleased to hear you talk 
 about me, I suppose to a girl possessed of your 
 cleverness, it would not be quite impossible to 
 arrange an accidental meeting — you know what I
 
 188 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 mean — a chance encounter somewhere, where trees 
 are plentiful, and people few — eh, Sophie ? " 
 
 " Oh, that's very easily managed," said she, in 
 a voice of contempt that was like a dram to my 
 spirits. " If Florence is willing, there can be no 
 limit to what may be clone. It will entirely depend 
 upon her, not upon Amelia's and my good wishes — 
 so please bear that in mind." 
 
 " When will you call upon me?" 
 
 "To-morrow morning, just to see what sort of 
 lodgings you have. You will please leave us your 
 address. And how often will you come to see us ? " 
 
 "Very often, depend upon it." 
 
 " Because," said she, making her manner im- 
 pressive by wagging her forefinger at me — the 
 starlight and the illumination from the lower 
 windows rendered us plainly visible to each other 
 — "the oftener you come the oftener you are likely 
 to meet Florence without obliging us to invent any 
 stratagems. To-morrow morning I shall write to 
 Florence and tell her that you have left Clifton, 
 and beg her to acquaint her father with the fact, 
 that he may withdraw his orders to her to dis- 
 continue her visits here. I shall make my letter 
 sarcastic, and ask her in a postcript to read it to 
 Mr. Hawke." 
 
 I was about to beg her to do nothing of the 
 kind, lest the old man should take it as a new 
 affront, and base further injunctions to his daughter
 
 I TAKE LODGINGS. 189 
 
 upon it, when my uncle, coming to the window, 
 bawled out : " Are there burglars yonder ? "Who's 
 that mum, mum, mumming there ? Are the bees 
 still abroad ? or has a sick cow strayed into these 
 grounds to die? Sophie, is that you?" She 
 answered "Yes." "Without any head-gear on? 
 D'ye know the dew falls like a thunder-squall? 
 Come in, come in, and bring the melancholy Jack- 
 anapes with you." 
 
 This ended our confab, and half an hour after- 
 wards I stood in the hall shaking hands all round, 
 and saying good-night and good-bye. 
 
 "You understand, Jack," said my uncle, "that 
 it's only a shift of premises. You're still our 
 guest." 
 
 " A knife and fork will always be laid for you," 
 said my aunt : " and your bedroom kept ready, 
 so that we shall require no notice of your return." 
 
 " You are very foolish to go, Jack ; but there's 
 no reasoning with men," exclaimed Amelia ; and 
 Sophie, as she squeezed my hand, mumbled in a 
 whisper that I might count upon her. 
 
 "God bless you all! and thanks," said I: and 
 lurching through the hall-door I gained the high- 
 way and stepped out for my lodgings in Bristol.
 
 190 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 MY BRISTOL LODGINGS. 
 
 The first night in new lodgings when you are alone 
 and in a strange town does not always make a 
 pleasant memory. Nothing fits : the armchair is 
 too big or too little ; the bed-mattrass is too hard 
 or too soft ; the washstand is in the wrong corner ; 
 the toilet tablet-table is in the road of the window ; 
 and the inhospitality of things new to your habits 
 is oppressive. In London the feeling that my 
 home was a lodging had been sunk by custom ; 
 but the sense came up in me very strong when 
 I reached my Bristol apartments, and stood in 
 the bit of a sitting-room, contrasting it with my 
 uncle's home, and gazing vacantly at the table, 
 on which were a bottle of brandy, a bottle of soda- 
 water, and a corkscrew, upon a cheap brand-new 
 tray. I heard a man's voice rumbling under my 
 feet, and there was a smell of coarse tobacco 
 about; and when I cast my eyes around, and 
 beheld no books, no intellectual solace of any
 
 MY BRISTOL LODGINGS. 191 
 
 kind outside the prints, which were speedily to 
 be exhausted, whether as diversions or as moral 
 instructors, I felt very lonely indeed, and sat me 
 down in the stiff-backed, hair-covered armchair 
 that stood nakedly confronting the frigid black 
 grate and its bleak furniture of fender and irons, 
 with a misgiving upon me that I was acting very 
 much like a donkey. 
 
 Mrs. Chump broke in upon my musings by 
 asking at what time I wanted to be called in the 
 morning, and what I wished for breakfast. Called 
 in the morning ! what was there to get up for ? 
 and wish for breakfast ? there was not a phantom 
 of a wish of the kind in me. But I was bound 
 to give her an answer, so I muttered something 
 about eggs and bacon and half-past eight, and 
 then pulled the cork out of the brandy-bottle and 
 filled a pipe. 
 
 However, I cheered niyself up after a bit by 
 considering that first of all I had acted as any 
 gentleman would in relieving my uncle's house 
 of a guest that had set two families by the ears ; 
 next, that when Florence Hawke came to hear 
 that I could not tear myself away from the neigh- 
 bourhood, and was living lonesomely in lodgings 
 for her sake, she would find a good deal in the news 
 to persuade her that I was very honestly in love. 
 And then I reflected that I had two most emotional 
 champions and allies in my cousins, in whose
 
 192 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 loyalty and love of romance I might have the 
 utmost confidence ; and I also consoled myself 
 by thinking that, though I might have prolonged 
 my stay at my uncle's without risk of being 
 thought an intruder, the time must certainly 
 arrive when my sense of propriety would oblige 
 me to leave his house ; so that, since I was deter- 
 mined to keep near Florence, I had only antici- 
 pated my departure by a week or two by coming 
 to these lodgings at once. 
 
 I often recall myself sitting in that little room, 
 smoking my pipe, my mind labouring under a 
 crowd of thought like a hard-pressed ship in a 
 seaway. Nathaniel Hawthorne has a story in 
 one of his books of a man's conscience standing 
 behind him and giving him a dig with a sharp 
 knife from time to time as it holds up pictures 
 of his early life to his face. I, who write this 
 in middle age, stand in fancy alongside that arm- 
 chair, and look at my foolish young self as I 
 sit with my legs crossed, blowing out smoke, some- 
 times grinning over a hope, sometimes scowling- 
 over a misgiving, and very often hauling out Miss 
 Florence's portrait from a side pocket to gaze at 
 it and kiss it. Even then I thought the adventure 
 I had embarked on a queer one, with little meaning 
 in it, and yet not destitute of a kind of nebula of 
 an idea either. But what must I think now, 
 looking as I do, so to speak, through the other
 
 MY BRISTOL LODGINGS. 193 
 
 end of the telescope, and recall the amazing ex- 
 periences to which my sojourn at Clifton and 
 Bristol was merely a tender, uneventful intro- 
 duction ? Would I go through it again ? Can 
 I conceive of any woman so divine, so stately, 
 so majestical, so lily-white, so bland, so all the 
 rest of it, as to seduce me into putting to sea 
 for her lovely and noble sake, and getting ship- 
 wrecked ? What say ye, mariners ? Is there any 
 woman worth being shipwrecked for — not in a 
 commercial sense, but literally, amid a storm of 
 wind, in the trough of a raging ocean, when the 
 lightning makes a hell of the sooty sky, and the 
 yelling of the hurricane mingling with the cries 
 of the drowning sounds like the voices of fiends 
 triumphing over the agonies of the damned ? 
 Answer that, my lively hearties, if so be that you 
 know what it is to be shipwrecked. 
 
 I turned in shortly before twelve, and reckoned 
 upon a tossing night : instead of which I fell sound 
 asleep, and never opened my eyes until Mrs. 
 Chump rapped upon the door. My lodgings were 
 in a street, and when I rose to shave myself, the 
 look-out over the way formed a very depressing 
 contrast with the bright fresh scene of trees and 
 flowers I had every morning gazed at from my 
 bedroom in my uncle's house. Nevertheless, I 
 felt on the whole pretty lively, and was in a 
 temper to take a cheerfuller view of my conduct 
 
 vol. r. o
 
 194 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 and resolutions than my spirits had allowed me on 
 the previous night. The street gave me but a 
 narrow horizon ; but the sky was to be seen over- 
 head, and my mood perhaps came to me from 
 the radiancy and life of it ; for there was a strong 
 breeze of wind blowing, and clouds, like bursts of 
 cannon-smoke, white and gleaming, were sailing 
 across the blue in stately processions, and the 
 dancing sunshine seemed like a kind of laughter 
 upon the face of the world. 
 
 When I arrived at the little parlour under my 
 bedroom I found breakfast ready ; and though it 
 was but a modest repast, yet what cooking there 
 was in it was up to the hammer, the coffee excellent, 
 everything clean, a nosegay in a tumbler in the 
 middle of the table, and a local newspaper damp 
 and flat lying upon the napkin. Trifling as these 
 matters are to mention, I found them reconciling, 
 and when I had breakfasted and stowed myself 
 away in the armchair — there was but one — with a 
 pipe in my mouth and the newspaper in my hand, 
 I could not help reflecting that, even if I viewed 
 this freak as no more than a holiday jaunt, I could 
 not have chosen a brighter scene than Bristol, with 
 its docks and its picturesque old houses, and the 
 river winding through the streets, and the noble 
 Clifton scenery close at hand. 
 
 Sophie had promised to call, and I remained in 
 my lodgings the whole morning for fear of missing
 
 MY BRISTOL LODGINGS. 195 
 
 her. A mighty long morning it was : hut an end 
 was made of it shortly before noon by a hearty 
 knock on the door, and my cousins were announced 
 by the landlady. They looked around them, 
 evidently amused by the size of the room; and 
 I confess that when they were seated it seemed 
 to have shrunk to half its real dimensions, owing, 
 no doubt, to its being pretty well filled by the two 
 fat girls and myself. They asked me how I had slept, 
 whether I was likely to be comfortable, whether 
 my love for Florence was going to be proof against 
 the loneliness of the lodger's life, and so forth. 
 When I say they, I mean it was chiefly Amelia who 
 asked these questions, for there was often a little 
 touch of banter in her as if she never thoroughly 
 gave me credit for earnestness ; whilst Sophie, on 
 the other hand, would always return sigh for sigh 
 and echo groan for groan. They had no news to 
 give me. They had merely called to see what sort 
 of apartments I had taken, and to know if I would 
 dine with them that evening. 
 
 "No," said I ; "do not tempt me. I want to 
 inure myself to solitude. I want to accustom 
 myself to my own company ; unless, indeed " 
 
 Sophie understood me. "No," said she, "you 
 will not see Florence." 
 
 i: Have you written to her ? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered, putting her hand in her 
 pocket ; "and here is her reply." She gave me
 
 19G JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 a little cocked-hat note, the counterpart of the one 
 I possessed. It was dated 10.30, proving that 
 Sophie had written very early indeed, and that 
 Miss Hawke had replied immediately. The little 
 missive trembled in my hand as I read : 
 
 "Dearest Sophie, 
 
 " Papa is out, so I must wait to tell him 
 that your cousin Jack has left you. I shall not read 
 your letter to him, as there is really no reason 
 why he should know that your cousin has taken 
 apartments in Bristol. The whole thing is quite 
 absurd enough as it is. I hope to see you soon ; 
 and I trust, dear, this foolish anxiety about me 
 on papa's part will not prevent you from calling 
 — as on my side, I certainly do not intend to let it 
 estrange us. I am very much ashamed that I 
 should have been the cause of your cousin leaving 
 you. I know how greatly you enjoyed his company ; 
 but though I am the cause, I feel that I am innocently 
 so, and let me assure you that nothing ever sur- 
 prised and vexed me more than papa's desire that 
 I should not visit you whilst your cousin remained 
 at your house. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "Florence Hawke. 
 
 " P.S. I suppose you will often see your 
 cousin ? Poor fellow ! I hope he has found nice 
 apartments."
 
 MY BEISTOL LODGINGS. 197 
 
 " There's a deal in that note about you, isn't 
 there, Jack?" said Amelia, after I had read it 
 twice through, and was beginning for the third 
 time. 
 
 " There is, indeed," I exclaimed, thrilled by 
 the references. '* But what does she mean by 
 saying that the whole thing is quite absurd 
 enough ? " 
 
 " That her papa's conduct is absurd," answered 
 Sophie. 
 
 " Are you sure ? " said I, doubtfully, looking at 
 the sentence in the letter. "You don't think she 
 means mine, do you ? " 
 
 They were both so confident on that head that 
 they vanquished my misgivings. I asked Sophie 
 if she meant to call at Clifton Lodge. She said 
 that if her mamma did not object she would call — 
 that is, of course, if Mr. Hawke allowed Florence to 
 visit them. 
 
 11 We don't mean to say, Jack," observed Amelia, 
 '•'that we should call if you were not concerned in 
 our remaining friendly with Florence, because we 
 all consider Mr. Hawke has behaved most insult- 
 ingly to us. But Sophie and I have talked things 
 over as we came here, and we have agreed, if 
 mamma does not object, to occasionally visit 
 Florence, so as to enable her to call upon us." 
 
 " I am afraid }'our mamma will object," said I. 
 " She lias said none of vou could ever dream of
 
 198 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 calling upon the Hawkes again after what has 
 happened." 
 
 " She may change her mind ; and if so," said 
 Sophie, " the arrangement should suit you very 
 well." 
 
 "Why, yes," said I, "if I am to meet Miss 
 Hawke at your house. But will she call, knowing 
 her papa's objections? And will not old Hawke 
 stop his daughter's visits when he hears that I 
 am in Bristol ? " 
 
 " You are really a very hard person to help," cried 
 Amelia. " Here is a pile of might-be's ! If all that 
 you fear is going to take place, we must salaam and 
 give your love-troubles up — for what can we do ? " 
 
 On this I mentally cursed myself for a fool — for 
 was not I one, to go and invent difficulties, and 
 damp the romantic fancies which rendered these 
 cousins my warm allies ? Looking humbly at them 
 both, I begged their forgiveness, and promised never 
 to express any more apprehensions nor to entertain 
 any further forebodings, but to take things as they 
 came, and if the wind drew ahead on one tack, to 
 shift the helm and try the other tack. 
 
 " There's nothing else to be done, Jack," said 
 Sophie; "for if mamma won't, and Florence won't, 
 and Mr. Hawke won't — if it is to be all won't " 
 
 " Then of course it must be won't with me," 
 said I, finishing her speech for her. 
 
 They stayed a while chatting, and before leaving
 
 MY BRISTOL LODGING B. 199 
 
 asked me again to dine with them. I should have 
 been well pleased to accept the invitation, but con- 
 sidered I would stand a better chance of preserving 
 their esteem and affection if, now that I was out of 
 the house, I did not dose them too often with my 
 company ; and besides, if this courtship of mine 
 was going to involve much waiting — whether it 
 came to anything or not — should I not be dining 
 at their house often enough"? "If ever you want 
 the phaeton, or feel disposed for a canter, you have 
 only to send a message, Jack," said Sophie, and, 
 then, giving me a tender sentimental shake of the 
 hand, my cousins went away. 
 
 I killed the rest of the da} 7 in wandering about 
 Bristol, hanging about the docks, where the vessels 
 and the hands at work upon them stirred up scores 
 of old memories, and I also expended a few shil- 
 lings in the purchase of a small collection of cheap 
 novels. My uncle had put my name down at his 
 club, but unfortunately Mr. Hawke was a member 
 of it, and the fear of meeting him was quite enough 
 to keep me clear of those premises. It immeasur- 
 ably consoled me, however, to reflect that Florence 
 Hawke knew that I was living in Bristol. Why, 
 even if she had no feeling for me, outside liking me 
 as an easy-going, light-hearted }*oung fellow, she 
 was bound to take an interest in a man who had 
 surrendered his pleasure and comfort as his uncle's 
 guest, because of her papa's fears and priggish
 
 200 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 jealousy, and had gone to dwell in a twopenny 
 lodging that he might be near her and able to 
 catch a glimpse of her now and again. It is true 
 that the thought of young Morecombe living in her 
 house, enjoying her incomparable society, and being 
 backed in his assaults upon her heart by the 
 battery of her father's wishes, was excessively dis- 
 tracting to a lover so utterly helpless as I was ; but 
 I consoled myself by reflecting that she had spoken 
 of the young fellow as a fool, that she had never 
 expressed an atom of regard for him, and that my 
 cousins were fully of opinion that Mr. Hawke would 
 never induce his daughter to accept the man as a 
 husband. 
 
 But taking it all round, I give you my word it 
 was anything but the jolliest time of my life. Often 
 would I pull out Florence's likeness and look at it, 
 and ask myself why fate had ordained that she 
 should cross my path, instead of allowing me to 
 remain the gay-hearted youth who was kicking his 
 heels, up to a recent period, about the West End of 
 London, and turning in night after night without a 
 trouble to ruffle the serenity of his simple mind? 
 During the evening that followed my cousins' visit, 
 I very well remember sticking Miss Florence's 
 photograph on the top of a hot water-jug, the open 
 lid of which supported its back and enabled me to 
 view it with my hands in my pockets ; and there it 
 stood up before me like a fetish — but oh, ship-
 
 MY BRISTOL LODGINGS. 201 
 
 mates, the beautiful drooping profile ! the lovely 
 swell of the figure ! the rich, tender speaking eye 
 downwards bent, hollowest phantasm of the exqui- 
 site reality as it was ! — whilst I soliloquized as 
 though I were making my devotions before the 
 goddess ; and I well recollect wondering whether it 
 would not be better for me to end this business 
 by packing my portmanteau and going away to 
 London next morning, instead of languishing in 
 these lodgings, dependent upon my cousins for the 
 privilege of even seeing Miss Florence, and of 
 eventually, maybe, sinking into a species of idiocy, 
 only to be rewarded in the end by receiving a piece 
 of Mrs. Florence Morecombe's wedding-cake to put 
 under my pillow. My love, thought I, is but a 
 milk-tooth now, a small pull will whip it away ; 
 but if I let it grow, it will become a lumping big 
 grinder with several enormous fangs, so that the 
 very devil himself might fail to haul it out ; and if 
 it should decay — heavens ! what agony must I 
 suffer ! What ought I to do then ? But guess 
 what sort of common sense I had in those days 
 when you notice that I tried to reason, with 
 Florence's lovely face mounted on a hot-water jug 
 plump under my nose ! How was it possible for 
 me to form any safe resolution, to act like a man 
 who was determined to be master of himself, whilst 
 the image of the sweetest of faces and figures — 
 the portrait of the woman I adored — stood up in
 
 202 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 front of me to paralyze every little thumping 
 struggle my heart gave to regain its liberty ? No, 
 thought I, snatching up the beautiful picture and 
 kissing it, it's too late — I'm in for it — I'll keep all 
 fast ! And pocketing the photograph, I drank to 
 my own health, lighted a pipe, and fell to one of 
 the half-dozen novels I had purchased.
 
 ( 203 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 MY UNCLE DAMPS MY HOPES. 
 
 Nothing particular, as shipmasters say when they 
 depose to disasters, happened for the next three 
 days. I recollect calling at my uncle's house and 
 finding everybody out, also killing a morning by a 
 trip to Portishead, attending a morning service in 
 the cathedral, in the vague, utterly idle hope of 
 seeing Miss Hawke there. Had I been in Bristol 
 merely as a lounging visitor, with an unoccupied 
 mind on the look-out for amusement, I should 
 have immensely enjoyed the old city; for it is 
 as picturesque a place as a man need wish to see, 
 full of gable-roofed houses belonging to ancient 
 times, and quaint side- streets ; and, above all, it 
 gives you the interests of a big port close to your 
 door in the shape of ships, which come up into 
 the heart of the town and mingle their spars and 
 flags with chimney-pots and steeples. 
 
 But my mind never was unoccupied. I wandered 
 about like a dog that has lost its master, staring at
 
 204 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 people and into carriages in hopes of catching a 
 glimpse of Florence Hawke, with my mind so full 
 of plans and plots, of hopes and fears, of determi- 
 nation and irresolution, that had Bristol been built 
 by the slaves of Aladdin in a night, I should have 
 mooned and gaped along the pavements without 
 giving the least attention to the miracle. 
 
 On the afternoon of the third day I returned to 
 my lodgings, having been down to Portishead to 
 have a look at the old ocean, and found my little 
 parlour fogged with tobacco smoke, in the midst of 
 which sat my uncle blowing clouds from a large 
 meerschaum. This was his first visit, and when 
 I entered, instead of saying "How do you do ?" he 
 exclaimed, " Shut the door behind ye, Jack. I 
 don't want your landlady to hear me laugh. Man ! 
 you must be deeply in love to put up with this. 
 Dash my buttons ! you don't call this a room, do 
 ye ? Why, if Florence was to catch sight of this 
 match-box, darned if I don't think she'd be giving 
 you her hand and heart slick away off out of mercy 
 so as to get you out of this butter-box of a hole." 
 
 " Small as it is," said I, " I'm glad to see you in 
 it. How are you ? " and we shook hands, after 
 which I opened the window. 
 
 " And what headway are you making ? " said he. 
 
 "I'm very comfortable here," I replied. " Not 
 equal to your palace, but good enough for a spell — 
 clean, quiet, respectable, and cheap."
 
 MY UNCLE DAMPS MY HOPES. 205 
 
 " I don't mean that," said he. " What are you 
 doing in this love business? Are you forging ahead 
 at all ? " 
 
 " I can't say I am," I replied, feeling exceedingly 
 foolish. 
 
 " Have you met Florence since you left us ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Not once." 
 
 " Have you seen her then ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Neither met her nor seen her!" he cried. 
 " What are you doing then — writing to her ? " 
 
 I shook my head ; these questions were abomin- 
 ably mortifying, and made me feel horribly absurd. 
 
 "Then," said he, "in the name of Jerusalem, 
 what are you stopping in this rat-hole for ? " 
 looking around him. " Has any one invented a 
 new method of making love since I was young, by 
 which two people can grow desperately attached by 
 never seeing, by never meeting, by never hearing, 
 and never writing to each other ? If not, then 
 come back to my house, Jack : don't go and ruin 
 the reputation of the Seymours for intellect by 
 hiding in a snail-shell and pretending that you are 
 courting." 
 
 My dignity was touched. "Pardon me," I 
 observed somewhat loftily, " you knew the policy I 
 intended to adopt. I am content to wait. Mr. 
 Alphonso Hawke is not an apple-tree that I can
 
 206 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 turn to and shake him until the particular fruit I 
 want falls at my feet. His daughter knows I love 
 her : she knows I am living in Bristol for her sake." 
 
 "But what's that got to do with it?" he ex- 
 claimed. " If you never meet her, if you never see 
 her, if you don't correspond with her, what's to 
 come of your lodging in this oyster-shell ? " 
 
 " I am in my cousins' hands," said I. " Florence 
 Hawke and I will meet, depend upon it ; and when 
 we do, you bet that Jack Seymour hasn't withdrawn 
 into this oyster-shell, as you call it, for nothing." 
 
 "Look here, my lad," said he, speaking very 
 kindly, and with a touch of apology in his voice that 
 was almost alarming, " I don't want to discourage 
 you — you know that." 
 
 "Yes, I know that." 
 
 "There's no reason," he continued, "why you 
 shouldn't win this girl — though, mind, you'll do 
 nothing by sitting down in this snuff-box of a cham- 
 ber with a pipe in your mouth, or taking a turn 
 along a few fathoms of pavement. D'ye remember 
 that I lectured you once on sincerity? Well, it 
 eased my mind, and ever since I've somehow felt 
 that you're to be trusted : my notion being that if 
 Florence chooses to fancy you, she'll find you an 
 A 1 husband, built above the usual requirements, 
 copper-fastened, and something fit to handle. 
 Money she oughtn't to want ; and if her father cuts 
 her off, you must go to work and double your in-
 
 MY UNCLE DAMPS MY HOPES. 207 
 
 eome, and that'll do for the present. So you see, 
 my boy, I don't want to discourage you." 
 
 " But what do you want to say, then ? " said I, 
 wondering what he was driving at now that he had 
 made all these admissions. 
 
 " Why," said he, looking a bit nervous, " you just 
 now spoke of your cousins helping you. Well, I 
 have no objection. I have my own theories of life, 
 and do not know why I should be expected to ap- 
 plaud Mr. Hawke's views and support them. You're 
 a gentleman — poor, but not a beggar. You have 
 something to offer Florence, even if she came to 
 you without a stiver. Isn't that so ? " 
 
 " I have two hundred and fifty a year," said I. 
 
 "Yes," he exclaimed, " and youth also, which is 
 always worth money. If you were a dissolute fel- 
 low, if you were a twopenny rascal, if I thought you 
 weren't worth the love of such a girl as Florence, if 
 I reckoned you'd like to get her, not for her heart's 
 sake, but for what she'd bring along with her, does 
 any man who knows me suppose I would lift a 
 finger to help you to foul old Hawke by running 
 athwart his hawse ? My boy, if I lifted anything it 
 would be my foot, to give ye a hoist out of the way 
 of the charming girl. Mind, Jack, I don't want to 
 say anything to discourage you." 
 
 •' I'm following you anxiously," said I. 
 
 " The fact is, nephew, your aunt and I are not 
 agreed. She is for respecting Mr. Hawke's wishes
 
 208 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 to the extent of your doing nothing to bother him. 
 She is very fond of you, Jack — ay, proud of you, 
 m y boy, as a relative; but she doesn't think it 
 would be consistent with our dignity for your 
 cousins to meddle in a business that's already 
 caused old Hawke to insult us." 
 
 "I do not blame her," said I. 
 
 " It is not my fault," continued he, growing more 
 and more apologetic, and looking very sorry. " I 
 it was who told you you might count upon your 
 cousins. But my wife objects, and she must have 
 her way. She has consented to their calling on 
 Florence, but on the distinct understanding that 
 they take no messages, no notes." 
 
 "You may depend upon it," said I speaking 
 coolly, but feeling frightfully chagrined, " that her 
 requests are law to me. I beg that you will give 
 her my love, and assure her that the same resolu- 
 tion that forced me from her hospitable house will 
 enable me most strictly to respect her wishes." 
 
 "For God's sake!" he burst out, "don't be 
 too polite, Jack, or you'll make me think you're 
 satirical." 
 
 " No, no," said I, " I am too fond of you all to 
 try my clumsy fist at satire." 
 
 " I know you are, and we're equally fond of you : 
 and what I want to know now is, whether, seeing 
 that it wouldn't be proper for your cousins to help 
 you in this job, it is worth your while to go on
 
 MY UXCLE DAMPS MY HOPES. 209 
 
 bothering yourself over it. Act sensibly, man ! 
 Give up these lodgings, come to my house, and 
 when you've had enough of us, return to London." 
 
 "A thousand thanks for your kindness, uncle; 
 but — what ! " I shouted, " surrender my love, my 
 hopes, my chances, by living in a house on the under r 
 standing that I must never meet Florence Hawke, 
 or, if I meet her, that I must never speak to her or 
 take notice of her lest I should excite her father's 
 suspicions of your neighbourliness, and lead him to 
 suppose you are keeping me with you for the 
 purpose of annoying him ! My dear uncle, you once 
 called me a swab ; do you really think I am one? " 
 
 He laughed heartily, and said, "Well, well; I see 
 how it is. One must needs go when the devil 
 drives. How you'll manage to get along I don't 
 know ; but I dare say in its time love has triumphed 
 over bigger difficulties than any you're likely to 
 encounter. Indeed, I once knew a man who, to 
 come at the object of his affections, had not only to 
 fight his own and the lady's family — the two families 
 combined mustering no less than two-and-twenty 
 souls— but the family of the rector of the parish, 
 the family of a justice of the peace, and the rela- 
 tions of a medical widower. He beat 'em all. His 
 triumph was wonderful ! There was no bolting, no 
 scudding away : he married the girl calmly and 
 legitimately ; and you may make an Irish hash of 
 me, Jack, if the wedding guests didn't consist of all 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 the people lie had, in a moral sense, knocked on the 
 head, and over whose bodies he had crawled on his 
 road to the altar. Take that fable to heart," said 
 he, " and moralize it." 
 
 My conversation with him, however, had not left 
 me in a very moralizing mood. He lingered a 
 little, talking and laughing — in truth he saw that 
 he had made me despondent, and wanted to leave 
 me in better spirits — and tried to persuade me to 
 dine with him that day. I declined, for I was not at 
 all in the humour to enjoy his hospitality, but 
 promised to spend the following afternoon and even- 
 ing at his house ; and this being settled he went 
 away, urging me with his last words to quit those 
 lodgings, and never to suffer any woman in this 
 wide world to make me unhappy whilst I remained 
 a bachelor, as it was time enough for a man to 
 begin to feel miserable when he was married. 
 
 I had counted so fully upon the good offices of 
 my cousins, upon their willingness to convey letters 
 and messages, upon their womanly capacity of 
 interesting Florence in me by their talk of my 
 devotion, my admiration of her, and the like, that 
 upon my word, mates, the thought that their help 
 was lost to me affected me to such a degree, that 
 hang me if I am not ashamed to think of it. What 
 was I to do now ? No doubt 1 had the sympathy 
 of my relations, but their neutrality was almost as 
 bad as active hostility, so that practically I stood
 
 MY UNCLE DAMPS MY HOPES. 211 
 
 alone, I was without a friend, without any means 
 of communicating with my darling, unless indeed I 
 boldly wrote to her at her papa's house, which 
 might have been a resolution very easy to carry 
 out, but not for a moment to be entertained if I 
 valued my self-respect and hers ; and I was there- 
 fore deprived of all chance of keeping myself alive 
 in her memory. Under such circumstances there 
 is probably not one man in a hundred who would 
 not have withdrawn whilst his wounds were still 
 small. But my nature was an obstinate one, and 
 sanguine too, a compound not often met. Besides 
 this, I loved the girl from the very bottom of my 
 heart with a boyish intensity I like to remember. 
 I also valued my relatives' opinion, and guessed 
 if I turned tail at this juncture they would ever 
 after look upon me as a very insincere poor 
 creature. These and a hundred such thoughts 
 determined me to " hold on all," as we say at sea, 
 to put my faith in chance, to be patient — in 
 short, to play with Dame Fortune the old nursery 
 game of shutting my eyes and opening my mouth 
 and seeing what I should get. It might be a 
 lollipop, or it might be a dose of jalap, but what- 
 ever it was., I would swallow it. 
 
 Yet for all that, the worry, the disappointment, 
 the real distress of mind I was in, coupled with the 
 heat of the weather and the smallness of the room 
 about which I kept lurching for some time after my
 
 212 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 uncle had gone away, with my head full of sim- 
 mering fancies, threw me into a kind of fever ; and 
 then there came into me such a desperate, crazy 
 longing to see Florence Hawke — to catch even the 
 merest glimpse of her — that without any kind of 
 plan in my mind I pulled on my hat and set sail 
 in the direction of Clifton. I did not, however, 
 know how tired my ramble about Portishead had 
 made me until I was mounting the steep road 
 which would carry me to Clifton Lodge, and com- 
 pelled by fatigue to walk slowly, I had plenty of 
 leisure for reflection. What did I mean to do? 
 To pull the bell, and ask if Miss Hawke was at 
 home? Stand at the gate and peep through the 
 bars ? Was I anxious to give old Hawke an oppor- 
 tunity of pronouncing an opinion on me through 
 the medium of his flunkeys ? 
 
 In truth, when I began to ask myself where I 
 was bound to, and what I hoped to do when I got 
 there, I found an irresolution creeping upon me. 
 When a man is really beloved of his sweetheart 
 there are few things he can do which are likely to 
 make him ridiculous in her eyes — at least, that's 
 my notion, and of course, I may be wrong ; but I 
 fancy no one will doubt that until a fellow has won 
 a girl's heart he runs many risks of being laughed 
 at by her. Should Miss Hawke catch me hanging 
 about the road in front of her house and peeping at 
 the windows like a burglar settling his little plans,
 
 MY UNCLE DAMPS MY HOPES. 213 
 
 would she be amused ? She might, it is true, be 
 affected by this instance of my devotion, or she 
 might think I was acting very ridiculously. An 
 alternative of this kind is a very serious thing. 
 These were my thoughts as I marched toilsomely 
 up that hill, and these were the considerations 
 which caused me after a while to stop, and then 
 march down again. 
 
 No one who has been in love but will sympathize 
 with the feelings which mastered me at this period, 
 and follow with emotion the various postures of 
 mind into which my passion forced me.
 
 214 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 
 
 What sort of man was Mr. Reginald Morecoinbe ? 
 Was he short or tall ? Good-looking or plain ? A 
 real fool or with as much sense as most youths 
 have? That he wore his hair parted down the 
 middle, that he dressed himself in stick-up collars 
 (no great vice), that he used an eye-glass, and talked 
 of blood with the complacency of a gentleman 
 whose private conviction is that people of humble 
 extraction wander through life with their veins 
 filled up with water, I had heard ; but these points 
 were vague enough. I had never seen him, which 
 was not curious considering that he had been laid 
 up with a sprained ankle pretty nearly ever since 
 his arrival at Clifton ; but not the less was my 
 curiosity exceedingly keen, so that next to Miss 
 Hawke the person I was most anxious to have a 
 good look at was the youth her father wanted her 
 to marry. 
 
 My mind was full of speculations about this man
 
 I POUK OUT MY SOUL. 215 
 
 as next morning I talked to Clifton to spend the 
 day with my relatives; and it was therefore a coin- 
 cidence in its way that I had not been walking 
 ten minutes when I spied Mr. Hawke's carriage 
 standing opposite a bookseller's shop. The sight 
 of the men's livery, which I had good reason to 
 remember, fluttered me exceedingly ; but I had to 
 come abreast of the vehicle before I could see who 
 was in it, and as I did so Mr. Hawke came out of 
 the shop and said something to the young fellow 
 who was sitting in the carriage. The old chap did 
 not see me. I walked hurriedly by, taking but a 
 short peep at the young man, who of course would 
 be no other than Mr. Morecombe. That peep, 
 sharp and brief as it was, did not make me feel 
 very happy, for I am bound to say that Mr. More- 
 combe was a decidedly good-looking man, appa- 
 rently about eight- and- twenty, with a large tawny 
 moustache and a well-shaped nose. There was a 
 glass in his eye, and he wore the stick-ups my 
 uncle had jeered at. He was dressed in a suit of 
 tweed, with yellow gloves, plenty of shirt-sleeve. 
 and a white deer-stalking hat. Yet there was 
 something mighty affected, I thought, in his pose 
 as he leaned back with a cigarette between his 
 fingers. 
 
 I walked quickly past, as I have said, never 
 troubling myself to look behind ; but let me 
 repeat, mates, the sight of that man made me feel
 
 216 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 uncomfortable. He was certainly not the sort of 
 individual I had fancied him. I had figured a 
 somewhat idiotic person, smooth-faced, a sort of 
 compromise between man and woman, with the 
 assurance of the one and the vanity of the other. 
 Instead of which, the villain had a masculine 
 appearance, was of my height, as I reckoned by 
 his body as he sat in the carriage, unless his legs 
 were short (which I hoped), and was not without 
 breadth of shoulders. I had noticed with a spasm 
 of jealousy and wrath the polite, exceedingly 
 gracious manner with which old Hawke had smiled 
 on the youth as he 'came out of the shop. 
 
 Mr. Morecombe, I thought as I stepped out, 
 walking fast in my abstraction, is good-looking, is 
 gentlemanly-looking, he is well connected, his wife 
 will be Lady Morecombe, he may not be well off, 
 but he cannot be poorer than I. Suppose he is the 
 fool my relatives — ay, and Florence Hawke — call 
 him ; suppose he talks nonsense about blood ; sup- 
 pose he is a puppy by nature and the meanest of 
 creatures in intellect — whoever he marries will 
 some day be " her ladyship " ; he has a pretty 
 figure for a carriage, or a saddle, or a drawing- 
 room, and he is no doubt capable of running very 
 glibly over a whole catalogue of titled aunts and 
 uncles and cousins. What more does pompous old 
 Hawke want? What chance should I stand, who am 
 little better than a shell-back, whose father was a
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 217 
 
 lawyer, who have no pretensions to Mr. Reginald 
 Morecornbe's elegant military style, his beautiful 
 moustache, his small hands, and general noble 
 ball-room appearance ? 
 
 I arrived at my uncle's house in a very dejected, 
 uncomfortable mood, partly induced by the view I 
 had obtained of Mr. Morecombe, and partly by 
 thoughts about my aunt, who I considered was 
 acting very unkindly in prohibiting her daughters 
 from lending me a hand in my courtship. As I 
 entered the gate I plumped up against Sophie, who 
 was unmistakably hanging about to intercept me. 
 
 " Jack," she said, as I stopped to shake hands 
 with her, " I know you wonder why neither Amelia 
 nor I have called upon you." 
 
 "Not at all," I answered. "Your papa was 
 with me yesterday, and he explained how matters 
 stand. Why should you call ? You have nothing 
 to tell me." 
 
 "It is not my fault," cried the amiable girl, 
 speaking with a distressed face; "I had made all 
 arrangements to visit Florence and have her here, 
 as you know — purely for your sake, but mamma 
 strictly prohibited Amelia and me from mentioning 
 your name to Florence, or acting in any way as a 
 go-between. What was I to do ? I am obliged to 
 obey mamma." 
 
 " Of course, of course," said I. " Don't let this 
 trouble you. I fully appreciate all your good
 
 218 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 intentions. It's a blow, I admit, to be deprived 
 of your help. But until I positively hear that 
 Florence Hawke has accepted young Moreconibe — 
 who, by the way, I have just sighted for the first 
 time — or until I know that the love I offered her 
 on that seat there," said I, pointing, "is objection- 
 able to her, I'll go on hoping, Sophie, I'll go on 
 waiting; for who knows what may happen?" and 
 so saying I put my hand through her arm, and in 
 this friendly manner we walked to the house. 
 
 My aunt welcomed me very kindly, and I took 
 care to put so much warmth into my manner that 
 it was impossible she could suspect how annoyed 
 I was with her for allowing her regard for old 
 Hawke's opinion to interfere with niy chance of 
 wooing his lovely daughter. I had hoped that no 
 reference to the business in any shape or form 
 would have been made, and had it rested with my 
 aunt and cousins nothing probably would have 
 been said; but my uncle, who spoke whatever 
 came into his head, tumbled us all into the topic 
 at lunch by asking Amelia if she had seen Miss 
 Hawke lately. My aunt tried to catch his eye 
 to make a face at him, but he would not look. 
 
 " I saw her yesterday, but only to nod to," 
 replied Amelia. 
 
 " Does anybody know how young Morecombe is 
 getting on?" continued my uncle; "how's his 
 sprain — can any one tell ? "
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 219 
 
 " It should be well by this time," said Sophie 
 contemptuously. 
 
 "I'm not so sure," exclaimed my uncle; "a 
 sprain is a bad job. I have known a man to be 
 laid up for twelve weeks with a twisted ankle." 
 
 " I saw him in the Hawkes' carriage as I came 
 here," said I ; " his sufferings did not seem 
 acute." 
 
 " Was that the first time you had ever seen 
 him ? " asked my aunt. I replied that it was. 
 
 " What d'ye think of him ? " said my uncle. 
 
 " That he's a decidedly good-looking fellow, with 
 a very gentlemanly appearance." Sophie seemed 
 to regard me with astonishment. My aunt said, 
 "It is very honourable in you to praise him, Mr. 
 
 Jack. He is certainly handsome to look at " 
 
 "From a distance," interrupted Sophie. "But," 
 continued my aunt, "when you get to know him 
 and converse with him his looks seem to fade 
 away. I am afraid it is because he has very little 
 intellect." 
 
 "The fact is, Jack," said my uncle, "his beauty 
 founders in his imbecility. The moment you stir 
 up his mind his appearance gets swamped and 
 sinks. Yet I like to hear ye admire the man ; it's 
 a nautical touch that pleases me." 
 
 " Only Mr. Hawke could endure so silly a person 
 as a guest," observed Amelia. 
 
 "Do not let us talk of Mr. Hawke, dear," said
 
 220 . JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 ray aunt. "Sophie, pass the sherry to your cousin, 
 my love." 
 
 " Before we shelve old Hawke, Sophie," said my 
 uncle in the manner of one who rises after a dinner to 
 make a speech, " I want to say a word. I told Jack 
 yesterday why you object to the girls meddling in 
 his love affairs ; he quite understands, as I explained 
 to you, my dear. It is not because you like old 
 Hawke, nor because you approve of his wish to 
 marry his child to an ass, nor because you would 
 not be delighted to see Florence Hawke become Mrs. 
 •Jack Seymour; but because you think it's right 
 that people should do as they'd like to be done by 
 — by which I mean that if you were carrying out 
 some marriage speculation for Sophie there, you 
 would not be pleased if Hawke's nephew (supposing 
 he had one) stepped in, backed by Hawke and his 
 family, to stop or thwart or bother you in your 
 little game. There need be no feeling on the 
 subject. Jack is a young man of sense ; aren't you, 
 Jack?" 
 
 All this was distressing enough to me, and I could 
 only blush and try to smile and look amiable. My 
 aunt, dragged into a topic she had not wanted to 
 meddle with, was forced to speak. 
 
 "lam sorry," said she to me, " to have felt 
 obliged — and I really have felt obliged — to say or 
 do anything that — that you might think not kind. 
 My husband knows, and so do Sophie and Amelia,
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 221 
 
 that I would be very glad to see you the accepted 
 lover of Florence Hawke. Do not imagine I 
 wonder at your admiration of her or that you 
 should be in love, for I greatly admire Florence 
 myself and have a warm affection for her. But it 
 was out of the question that Mr. Hawke should be 
 allowed to suppose that we were abetting you 
 against his wishes ; nor, in my opinion, would m 
 daughters be acting with propriety in calling at 
 Clifton Lodge after what has passed, and, under 
 the mask of visiting &s friends, helping you in your 
 
 — your " 
 
 " Affair dee cooer — put it politely," said my 
 uncle. 
 
 "And so virtually acting as the enemies of Mr. 
 Hawke's," concluded my aunt, who was exceedingly 
 nervous and extended her hand to Sophie for the 
 fan the girl wore slung by a lanyard to her waist. 
 
 " There's no reasoning against that," said my 
 uncle. " Girls, your mother's right. We all of us 
 wish Jack plenty of luck; he deserves it, and, in 
 my opinion, he'll get it ; but he must haul alone. 
 Yes, my lad, it must be a single-handed job. It's 
 a pity, but women are the best judges of what's 
 proper and decorous in behaviour, and what your 
 aunt says we're bound to endorse, both of us." 
 
 Once more I say all this was very distressing, 
 besides being flat, stale, and unprofitable, for it 
 was going over old ground ; however, I put on a
 
 222 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 pleasant face, thanked my aunt for her good wishes, 
 apologized for having been the cause of Mr. Hawke's 
 rudeness, and by backing and filling managed to 
 go clear of the confoundedly narrow channel into 
 which my uncle's candid soul had warped me, and 
 then, with a dexterous twist, changed the subject. 
 
 After luncheon Sophie came to the window of 
 tire room in which her father and I sat smoking, 
 and asked if I would take a walk with her. I at 
 once said "Yes," and looked at her eagerly, fancy- 
 ing that she intended to put me in the way of 
 meeting Florence. She read my thoughts and 
 shook her head, and said significantly, " Only for 
 a walk, Jack, as far as Observatory Hill, just to 
 kill an hour." "No mischief hatching, I hope," 
 says my uncle, who was half asleep. " I wish 
 there was, in the sense you mean," thought I, 
 greatly disappointed by Sophie's shake of the head. 
 "Yes, I should be very glad to take a stroll," I said 
 to my cousin, with whom in that sentimental time 
 I took great pleasure in conversing : so she went 
 away, and in about twenty minutes' time reappeared 
 dressed for the walk. My uncle was sound asleep, 
 snoring bravely, with a quantity of cigar ash on 
 his trowsers, and his arms hanging all abroad. 
 
 " Won't Amelia join us ? " I asked Sophie as 
 we stepped on to the lawn. She answered that 
 her sister had been walking in the morning and 
 felt tired, and that her mamma was lying down in
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 223 
 
 her bedroom. I dare say neither of them knew 
 that she was going for a walk with me ; she wanted 
 to have my emotions and woes to herself — to enjoy 
 me alone, as if I were a love story in three 
 volumes. Indeed, my cousin Sophie had a truly 
 romantic turn of mind, a keen and native relish of 
 all matters which concern the heart. How she 
 managed to endure life without having some great 
 secret of her own I cannot imagine. Perhaps she 
 had; and if so I should feel disposed to bet that he 
 had melancholy eyes and was considerably in 
 debt. 
 
 We walked along very slowly, and as we walked 
 we conversed on the one topic that at that period 
 absorbed the whole of my slender stock of under- 
 standing. " I can only repeat, Jack," says she, 
 u that I am deeply vexed at not being able to help 
 you as I should like. I had made such capital 
 plans. Again and again Florence could have been 
 at our house when you arrived — quite by accident, 
 of course. Then she and I could have taken 
 drives, and met you in the most unexpected 
 manner. But mamma's wishes are law," and the 
 dear thing sighed with all her might. 
 
 " Sophie," said I, "at lunch you heard me say I 
 had seen young Morecombe in the Hawkes' 
 carriage. I spoke of him lightly, for I want 
 nobody but you to know all that I feel. But the 
 truth is, Sophie, the sight of that man has made
 
 224 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 me miserable ; I had no notion he was so good- 
 looking." 
 
 "He is not good-looking," she replied scorn- 
 fully; "it's your jealousy that makes him formid- 
 able. At all events, if he's good-looking in your 
 opinion, depend upon it he does not come up to a 
 woman's ideas of a handsome man." 
 
 "You merely say this to comfort me," I 
 mumbled. 
 
 " I say it because it is true," she exclaimed. 
 " Were you to talk to him you'd find him positively 
 ugly ; he has not an atom of expression, he has a 
 most sickly, conceited smile, he says * aw,' like old 
 Mr. Hawke, but much more often, and ' heear ' for 
 ' hear ' and ' beear ' for ' beer ' ; and he also 
 stammers a little. If Florence were with us she'd 
 agree in every word I say. At all events, she does 
 not think him good-looking." 
 
 "Are you sure of that?" I asked, longing to 
 believe her and thoroughly doubting what she said 
 at the same time — a truly miserable condition of 
 mind to be in. 
 
 "Are not you sure?" she replied. "Why, she 
 called him a fool to your face once ; don't you 
 remember? And do you think a woman would 
 speak like that of a man she admired ? " 
 
 " Oh, but she was talking of his brains, not of 
 his appearance," said I. " Confound the fellow ! 
 I wish I had never seen him. I never supposed
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 225 
 
 that be was much more than a soft, clean-faced, 
 under-sized fop." 
 
 " He's not much more, whatever you may think," 
 said she ; " and if Florence does not admire him — 
 which I know to be the case ; didn't she once say 
 to me he had a most inane countenance ? — why 
 will you allow such trifling matters as a moustache 
 and an eye-glass to worry you ? Why, at that 
 rate an umbrella or a walking-stick will be dis- 
 turbing your peace of mind next. Depend upon 
 it, Mr. Reginald Morecombe is not to Florence's 
 taste." 
 
 " What is to her taste ? Can you imagine ? " 
 said I, letting conviction creep into me bit by bit, 
 like an eel working its way into the mud. Here 
 my warm-hearted cousin did me the honour to 
 closely describe Jack Seymour. Yes ; she said 
 that what Florence liked was a Roman nose — not 
 a hook, but a bumpkin or outrigger of the proper 
 classic kind ; plenty of brown hair, elegantly 
 tossed off the manly brow as if recently combed by 
 a gale of wind ; a tolerable mouth, fairish teeth, 
 and a small honest moustache — not a great heap 
 of hair, which might conceal nobody could tell 
 what, and which when shaved off might leave a 
 most dreadful and wonderful change behind. And 
 so my kind cousin talked on, making beauties of 
 my imperfections and overpowering me with the 
 glimpses of my own charms she enabled me to 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 snatch. It was hard not to "believe all she said ; 
 my vanity, my hopes, my love were all on her side. 
 But her adamantine amiability, that was proof 
 against my intolerable egotism, — that did not 
 crumble and fall down before the battery of such 
 questions as, "And you really think she admires me 
 more than Mr. Morecombe ?" " And you honestly 
 believe, Sophie, that she likes me?" "And 
 your opinion is that if I could only manage to meet 
 her a few times it would end in my winning her 
 love?" "And you are sure that her father will 
 never induce her to accept Mr. Morecombe ? " I 
 can only recall with veneration and amazement. 
 How I plied her, poor girl ! Sometimes I apolo- 
 gized; sometimes I would say, "Ton my word, I 
 am very unreasonable ; I have no right to be 
 worrying you in this fashion. I ought not to bore 
 you with all this talk." But whether it was that 
 she enjoyed the conversation and would not let me 
 drift out of it, or that I could not find anything 
 else to talk about, it always happened that I regu- 
 larly returned to the subject of Florence Hawke, 
 what she thought of me, my chances, what I ought 
 to do, and the like. 
 
 We were wandering along side by side, like a 
 pair of lovers deep in conversation, when she 
 suddenly caught hold of my arm, came to a dead 
 stop, compelling me to halt likewise, and exclaimed 
 with a sort of consternation in her manner, " Good
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 227 
 
 gracious, Jack, there's Florence in front of us ! 
 and there's Emily in that Bath chair." We were 
 somewhere ahout where the St. Vincent Bocks 
 Hotel now stands ; there was no suspension bridge 
 in those days. I could see some distance along the 
 road, that had a railing down one side of it, 
 leaving a wide margin of edge where the precipi- 
 tous cliff fell, and about a couple of hundred paces 
 ahead of us, there, sure enough, was a Bath chair, 
 dragged by a man with some silver on his hat, and 
 walking close alongside of it was Florence Hawke, 
 though, had not Sophie told me it was she, I should 
 certainly not have recognized her at that distance. 
 They were going our way, and their backs were 
 towards us. The Bath chair went along very 
 slowly, and when we stopped, Miss Hawke stopped 
 and looked towards the river, and then rejoined her 
 sister. 
 
 "Let us go on, Sophie, let us go on!" I 
 exclaimed, hearing my heart drumming in my ears 
 as if Punch and Judy were not far off. 
 
 "What are we to do, Jack?" cried she. 
 " Ought we to join them ? What will mamma 
 say?" 
 
 " For heaven's sake, don't let us lose sight of 
 them," I replied, catching hold of her arm and 
 obliging her to walk. "We can argue the matter 
 moving, can't we ? What can your mamma say ? 
 She doesn't want you to cut Miss Hawke. This
 
 228 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 meeting is purely accidental — it is what I have been 
 longing and praying for — don't think of anybody 
 but me at this moment." And tightening my clutch 
 of her arm I forced her to step out. 
 
 " Well, as you say, it's purely accidental," said 
 the good-natured girl, fast losing her breath. " I 
 certainly cannot be disobeying mamma by speaking 
 to Florence when we meet, although you are with 
 me." 
 
 " And you have met her," cried I, " after an 
 Irish fashion, certainly ; but we'll make it a proper 
 meeting." 
 
 As we drew near I actually trembled with excite- 
 ment and nervousness. I never gave the circum- 
 stance of Miss Emily being with her sister a 
 thought. All that I felt was that I was going to 
 meet and see and speak to the girl I was deeply in 
 love with, and whom I had done nothing but think 
 of, and dream of, and worry over, and speculate 
 upon ever since the first night I had set foot in 
 Clifton. Why wouldn't she look round and see us 
 coming? This stern-chase doubled my nervous- 
 ness, more especially as the pair of us threatened 
 to blunder alongside short of breath and scare the 
 darling by our sudden apparition and invasion. 
 We were within twenty feet of the Bath chair when 
 Emily turned her head and spied us. Perhaps 
 she did not immediately recognize us, for she took 
 another short squint before speaking to her sister.
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 229 
 
 Instantly Florence stopped and looked; for a 
 moment she bung in the wind, I fancied, as if 
 she did not know what to do ; then with a bright 
 smile she advanced, gave Sophie a kiss, and 
 extended her hand to me. 
 
 Mates, shaking hands with a girl you love is a 
 wonderful sensation. I could scarcely let go of 
 the soft, tender, velvet-like gloved fingers; and 
 frightened, shy, palpitating, and excited as I was, 
 the delight kindled in my face I could guess at by 
 seeing the effect of it in hers. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you, Sophie," said she. 
 " How is it you have not called ? You owe me a 
 visit, you know," and she smiled archly. 
 
 But the fellow that was hauling the Bath chair 
 along had come to a stand ; Miss Emily had to be 
 saluted, and we went to her. She looked at me 
 with amazement as I raised my hat. She did 
 not attempt to disguise her wonder. Nothing was 
 more certain than that she had not the least idea 
 I was still in Bristol ; whence, quick as lightning, 
 I inferred that Florence had kept the fact of my 
 having taken lodgings in the neighbourhood a 
 secret from her father and sister. A noble 
 augury for me, as what lover will doubt ? Could 
 the poor delicate creature have had her way, she 
 would have ordered the flunkey to wheel her home. 
 This was as plain as mud in a wine-glass by her 
 first movement of surprise at seeing me and the
 
 230 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 marked coolness of her manner immediately after- 
 wards. But, Heaven be praised! she was too 
 young to be dangerous in that way. Sophie, who 
 was anxiously smiling and red as a cook with the 
 heat, for I had dragged her along without cere- 
 mony, said, "Don't let us keep you standing. 
 We are going your way : " and forthwith the 
 silver-hatted gentleman touched his hat, bent his 
 back, and off we started. 
 
 We all kept together at the beginning. I had 
 very little to say, and indeed just then was hardly 
 able to do more than look. Occasionally Entity 
 would stare at me as if I had just clambered out 
 of the river over the cliff; but I took no notice; 
 I had no eyes but for Florence. Could I pretend 
 to know how she was dressed? what sort of hat 
 she wore ? what colour her parasol was ? Depend 
 upon it, a man is not very far gone when he notes 
 his girl's attire. Why, confound him, whatever 
 she has on will be in the most delicious taste in 
 the world when he is in love, and that is all he 
 will be able to say about it. What I remember 
 of Florence that day was her face and figure. It 
 was her beauty that clothed her — nothing more. 
 
 Well, we all tried to appear at the first going off 
 as if nothing whatever had happened — as if I were 
 not in love, as if Florence didn't know I was in 
 love, as if Alphonso Hawke were on the friendliest 
 terms with the Seymours, as if there were no
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 231 
 
 Morecombe, no Bristol lodgings, no blood wanted 
 — no nothing. Emily was horribly cool, certainly, 
 and the eagerness in her soul to tell papa was 
 visible in her sickly lineaments. But we did not 
 mind her; Florence talked of the weather, I of 
 the dust, and Sophie of the curate of St. Andrew's. 
 At last Sophie said something to Emily, first 
 stealing a peep at me that I might see my chance. 
 My heart set off afresh ; but I was resolved that 
 nervousness should not hinder me. A time had 
 come for which I had been praying ; so girding 
 up my loins (in an intellectual sense, of course), 
 I took a lateral step that brought my arm against 
 Florence's, and said in a low voice, "I was afraid 
 I should never see you again." 
 
 She coloured up — how could she remember I 
 had told her that I loved her and not appreciate 
 the significance of this meeting and of every word 
 I could say in her private ear ? — and answered, 
 " I heard from Sophie that you had taken lodgings 
 in Bristol. I hope you are comfortable, though 
 you don't deserve to be for giving up your kind 
 relatives' home." 
 
 " I did that for your sake," said I. 
 
 " I know you did," she answered, " and I am 
 sorry to have been the cause." 
 
 (I saw Emily staring at us. Meanwhile Sophie 
 talked fast to her.) 
 
 " I would do anything for your sake," said I.
 
 232 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " The one hardship is the rare chance of meeting 
 you. Why is your father prejudiced against me ? 
 He does not know me. Could I help falling in 
 love with you ? He is to blame for having for a 
 daughter the loveliest girl in the world." 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense, Mr. Seymour," said she, 
 turning her face aside and smiling. (We had 
 dropped about a fathom astern of the Bath chair 
 and right in the wake of it ; so Emily could not 
 go on looking without straining her neck.) And 
 then raising her sweet eyes to me, she said, " If a 
 landsman talked to me as you do, I should walk 
 away, I should be angry. But I can forgive a 
 very great deal in a young man who has been to 
 sea as a sailor." 
 
 "And why? because if he's a real sailor he'll 
 speak the truth — as I do. Do you doubt my 
 sincerity ? Do you think I am only flattering 
 you ? Heaven forgive you, if you suppose that ! 
 I can tell you that you have made me the most 
 wretched creature in existence. I am in love with 
 you, and my love puts you a thousand leagues 
 further away from me than were I to like you 
 only as an acquaintance. For, before, we could 
 meet, I could talk to you, I could be in your 
 presence and look at you ; now I go on day after 
 day with nothing upon earth to console me but 
 your likeness." 
 
 She was a little scared by my impassioned man-
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 233 
 
 ner, which put a kind of iinpetuousness into my 
 Toice. 
 
 " There is no need for you to be wretched," said 
 she. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " cried I, grasping at 
 the straw. " Only tell me that I may hope — I 
 ask for no more now — and you'll make me the 
 gladdest fellow in the world." 
 
 " I'll tell you nothing at all," she answered. 
 M I wish you would not think of me. Indeed, Mr. 
 Seymour, I ought not to talk to you." 
 
 " See here, Miss Hawke — no, I'll call you Florence 
 — you may not like it ; hut I'm determined to get 
 one happy memory out of all this worry ; will you 
 answer a question ? " 
 
 "You mustn't call me Florence," said she 
 smiling. 
 
 "Why not?" said I. "How cruel you are. 
 You will not yield an inch." She returned no 
 answer. " Since you object I will not call you 
 Florence." 
 
 11 You may say it once, but only once," said she, 
 turning her head away again. 
 
 " May I put something before it." 
 
 94 What '? " she inquired, rather breathlessly. 
 
 "May I say -darling Florence'?" I cried, 
 feeling that if that abominable Bath chair were 
 out of sight I should seize her hand. 
 
 "Oh no, certainly not," she exclaimed, honestly
 
 234 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 frightened. " Oh, Mr. Seymour — you told me I 
 would not give you an inch, and now you are 
 wanting to take a whole mile ! " 
 
 " Well, I'll not call you darling— I'll think it— 
 I'll say Florence — will you answer a question ? " 
 
 " I'll see when you ask it." 
 
 I put nry face close to her and said, " Have I 
 anything to fear from Mr. Keginald Morecombe ? " 
 
 " I'll answer that," she replied at once ; 
 " though you are not nice in putting it in that 
 way. My reply is ' No ' ! " 
 
 It was a wonder I did not burst into a horn- 
 pipe. 
 
 " Oh, Florence ! " I cried, " if you only knew — 
 if you could only conceive the weight your answer 
 takes off my mind." 
 
 " You have called me Florence twice," she ex- 
 claimed. " You are not fair. But let us join the 
 others. Emily will be wondering " 
 
 "Give .me another moment," said I. "I may 
 not meet you for a long time again, and I shall 
 have nothing but this little conversation to live 
 upon." 
 
 " I hope we shall meet soon then, for your sake," 
 she exclaimed, " for how thin you will become if 
 we don't ! " 
 
 "I certainly shall — joking apart. Already I 
 feel as if I were wronging Nature by not being a 
 shadow. For my sake you hope we shall meet
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 235 
 
 soon, you say. Will you tell me how I am to 
 meet you? " 
 
 "Indeed I cannot," she replied, "and therefore 
 you ought to return to your uncle instead of living 
 foolishly in apartments." 
 
 " But Mrs. Seymour respects your father's 
 wishes," said I. " She thinks if we were to meet 
 at her house Mr. Hawke would consider her un- 
 neighbourly. How miserable it is to be dependent 
 on others ! " And then, perceiving that she was 
 making little feints to leave me, and would certainly 
 be off in a moment or two, I exclaimed, " Florence, 
 before we join the others will you tell me that you 
 like me a little bit ? " 
 
 She laughed and said, " Of course I like you 
 a little bit ; " and then afraid, no doubt, that this 
 would lead to a larger question she made sail, and 
 we drew alongside the Bath chair. 
 
 There's a good deal of imbecility in what I have 
 written, my lads, but how am I to explain what an 
 amount of 'bouting-ship there was in my courtship 
 if I don't tell you what I said to my sweetheart 
 when I made love to her ? Besides, who expects 
 good sense in love-making ? Only Frenchmen 
 court wittily, and shall I tell you why ? because 
 they are never in earnest. When John Bull offers 
 his heart he means it. Yes, he kneels down in his 
 great boots, makes a fool of himself, rumbles out 
 nonsense in bad grammar ; but there's conscience
 
 236 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 in his twaddle. There was sincerity in mine ; I 
 meant all that I said, and so yon have the best 
 excuse I can offer for asking you to listen to this 
 stuff. 
 
 We ranged alongside the Bath chair, as I have 
 said, and Sophie at once quitted Emily for her 
 sister. Nobody would have required a telescope 
 to judge from Florence's and my appearance that 
 we had been enjoying a rather earnest conversa- 
 tion. Her face was flushed, her eyes were bright, 
 and there was an odd and fascinating expression 
 of mirth, puzzlement, gratification, and bother upon 
 her. Miss Emily was chillingly shy as I stepped 
 up to her. And what a Bath chair was hers ! a 
 private turn-out, worthy of Alphonso, superbly lined 
 and finished, and his confounded old goose or duck 
 writ large on the stern and sides of it. But I was 
 too mellow, too sanguine, too intoxicated by what 
 had passed between Florence and me to allow this 
 poor feeble little girl to repel me. 
 
 " I thought you had left Clifton ? " said she. 
 
 " So I have," I replied, smiling with the energy 
 of a shopman in my desire to look amiable. 
 
 " Yes," says she, " but you have not gone very 
 far away." 
 
 " True," I observed, guessing that Sophie had 
 told her I lodged in Bristol; "but I am so 
 charmed by the scenery here," said I, hypocriti- 
 cally, casting my eyes around the prospect, "that
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 237 
 
 I could not prevail upon myself to return to 
 London." 
 
 Of course she knew better ; indeed she looked 
 at me as much as to say, "You are a horrid story- 
 teller. But never mind. Papa shall hear of all 
 this." She was desperately hard to talk to. She 
 gave me but little more than monosyllables. I 
 asked after her health, and she returned me a 
 reply that was like bidding me mind my own 
 business. I then inquired after Mr. Morecombe's 
 sprain, and this seemed to freeze her up. There 
 was no chance for amiability here. I had hoped 
 when we met at her house that she was a girl I 
 could " get on with," as the phrase goes. But she 
 was her papa's child; she had heard him talk 
 about me ; she was jealous, suspicious, peevish, 
 anxious to be off and cany her tales with her, after 
 the manner of others of her lovely sex, who in the 
 sacred name of loyalty to papa and mamma and 
 the family dignity oppose their pretty sisters when 
 lovers heave in sight and bear down ; and, hard 
 as I tried, I could make nothing of her. Mean- 
 while Sophie and Florence had dropped astern and 
 were deep in talk. I was anxious that they should 
 not be interrupted, as I easily guessed that my 
 cousin would make Jack Seymour the topic between 
 them, and perhaps end in getting Florence to 
 consent to an occasional accidental meeting with 
 me ; and this wish it was that they should have
 
 238 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 plenty of leisure for conversation that held me 
 close alongside the Bath chair, saying whatever 
 came into my head, and by my incessant jabber 
 fending off any desire Emily might have to order 
 the fellow in the cockade to drag her away. 
 
 At last we came to a road that obliged us to say 
 good-bye, unless we had a mind to accompany 
 Florence and the Bath chair to Clifton Lodge, 
 which would have been indiscreet. We stood 
 talking a few minutes, and then Florence put out 
 her hand to me. As I held it I whispered, "Do 
 give me a chance of meeting you again soon?" 
 "I will see," she answered. More than this it 
 would not have been wise to say, for Emily's eyes 
 were upon us ; nor was I surprised that there 
 should have been an expression of real wonder in 
 them, for there was something in Florence's face as 
 she said " I will see," and in her posture as I stood 
 holding her hand, that must have been a revela- 
 tion to the poor little suspicious invalid. I raised 
 my hat, the wheels of the Bath chair went round, 
 and Sophie and I turned our faces homewards. 
 
 "Well, Jack," said my cousin, "do you feel 
 happier in your mind now that you have met 
 Florence ? " 
 
 " Ay, my darling, fit to stand upon my head," 
 
 I exclaimed. " Isn't she " And here I ran 
 
 through adjectives enough to fill a page. " Sophie, 
 I am positive she begins to like me seriously."
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 239 
 
 " So am I. But what do you think she told 
 me?" 
 
 " Don't ask questions ! " cried I in an agony of 
 curiosity. "Whip it out, Sophie." 
 
 " Mr. Morecombe has proposed to her." 
 
 "The devil!" I exclaimed, coming to a dead 
 stand. "When?" 
 
 "Last evening." 
 
 "And what was her answer?" said I, very 
 nearly breathless. 
 
 " She gave him a flat refusal, Jack — a flat 
 refusal ! " shouted the delicious creature, breaking 
 into a loud laugh and clapping her hands. There 
 was an old woman in a large bonnet and a green 
 veil, dragged along by a strong white dog, some 
 distance behind us ; but I did not heed her. In 
 my transport I seized hold of Sophie, danced her 
 into the middle of the road and back again on to 
 the footpath ; and so heedless was my ecstasy, 
 that I not only paid no attention to her cries, but 
 I did not even know that my hat had fallen off 
 until I spied it in the road, whereupon I kicked 
 it into the air, caught it as it fell, and laughing 
 with all my might, took Sophie's arm and started 
 afresh. She tried to look indignant at me for 
 being so rough, but it would not do ; my face must 
 have been one surface of shining delight. She 
 took a look and burst into such a fit of merriment 
 that the tears rolled down her cheeks; so that
 
 240 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 what with this coming on top of her involuntary 
 waltz, she had a perfectly dissipated appearance, 
 her hair in disorder, and her hat most ludicrously 
 cocked. 
 
 " Flatly refused him ! What d'ye think of that? " 
 cried I, squeezing her plump arm. " Flatly 
 refused him ! What a noble girl ! What a piece 
 of news ! And Alphonso ? " 
 
 " She says that her father was in a great rage, 
 and has scarcely opened his lips to her since." 
 
 "And Eeginaldo, the proprietor of blood — what 
 does he think? " 
 
 " She did not say much about him. Her words 
 to me were, ( Sophie, I do not like him, and I will 
 not have him. I am very sorry. It grieves me to 
 oppose papa's wishes ; but I cannot consent to link 
 my life with that of a man who is stupid and 
 conceited, for whose character I have not the least 
 respect.' " 
 
 "Are not those beautiful sentiments ?" I cried. 
 "What a grand woman she is ! Oh, Sophie, if I 
 perish in the effort, I must go on struggling to win 
 her." 
 
 "Didn't I say from the beginning she would 
 never accept Mr. Morecombe ? " 
 
 "You did," I replied; "and you are a grand 
 woman too. But now that the youth's offer has 
 been declined, I suppose he'll not be mean-spirited 
 enough to go on remaining at old Hawke's house,
 
 I TOUR OUT MY SOUL. 241 
 
 will he ? Yet I saw him in Mr. Hawke's carriage 
 this morning. Doesn't he mean to c/o, confound 
 him ? Is he so great a fool as not even to have 
 any instincts as a man ? " 
 
 " Florence thinks he will return to London when 
 his foot is strong enough to stand on," replied 
 Sophie. " But she quite gave me to understand 
 that though he goes he'll not go for good. He has 
 no intention of giving her up. Oh dear no ! he ! 
 he ! he ! Men like Mr. Morecomhe are not in the 
 habit of taking no for an answer. Besides, her 
 papa will not let himself be beaten without a 
 desperate fight." 
 
 " Only let Florence complain to me that this 
 fellow troubles her," said I between my teeth. 
 " I'll leave him no brains to make love with. Let 
 her complain to me." 
 
 "There's more news yet," said Sophie. "The 
 day before yesterday Mr. Hawke received a letter 
 from his sister, a spinster, named Dainaris, who 
 lives in Sydney, saying she was coming on a visit 
 to them. The letter was posted a week or two 
 before she sailed, so she'll be here soon." 
 
 " What do you call her ? " I asked. 
 
 " Damaris — Aunt Damaris." 
 
 " A pretty name. And what does she want ? " 
 
 " A change, I suppose. If she is like her 
 brother, and sides with him, there'll be more 
 affliction sore for Florence, I fear." 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 " Florence need only come to me,'\I exclaimed. 
 ii I'll protect her, though everybody in Australia 
 was a relation and they all arrived this evening. 
 Oh, that she would come at once, Sophie ! " 
 
 " Upon my word, if things go on as they are, 
 Jack, I believe you'll end in making her come," 
 said she. " To render a girl's home miserable 
 can hardly be the right way for a father to control 
 her as he would like. Emily of course will tell her 
 papa that she and Florence met us, and that will 
 create another scene." 
 
 " Yes ; and you are aware, Sophie, that Emily, 
 and therefore of course old Hawke, did not know 
 that I was living at Bristol ? " 
 
 "Florence is a sly puss," she replied. " I was 
 really more surprised by Emily's ignorance than 
 she was surprised by seeing you. The fact of 
 Florence keeping your movements a secret from 
 her family looks well for you, Jack ; though is it 
 quite proper that she should do so ? " 
 
 This'was challenging my darling's integrity ; so I 
 said, of course it was proper. My movements were 
 not supposed to form any part of Florence's 
 business. What right had her father to expect 
 that she should talk to him about me, and appear 
 to know what I was doing when he had prohibited 
 her from calling at my uncle's house for fear that 
 she should meet me ? It was not a question of 
 her frankness or honesty. A girl might hear of
 
 I POUR OUT MY SOUL. 243 
 
 many things she ^vould not trouble herself to 
 repeat. 
 
 "Well, it may be as you say," said Sophie; 
 " and, at any rate, if she has not been quite so 
 candid with her papa as strict people might 
 consider it her duty to be, the only person that 
 ought to be blamed is Mr. Hawke. And now, Jack, 
 what shall we say when we get home ? " 
 
 " Whatever you please, my dear." 
 
 " We had better tell everything," said she. 
 
 ' • You will, whether we agree to hold our tongues 
 01 not," said I. 
 
 She laughed and exclaimed: "I must give 
 Amelia the news about Mr. Morecombe. And 
 mamma will be so interested! Besides, the 
 meeting was entirely accidental — we can both 
 solemnly declare that ! " 
 
 "Ay, on our knees if required," said I. And as 
 I spoke we arrived at my uncle's house.
 
 241 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 
 
 Our conversation at dinner that day, when the 
 dessert was on the table and Cobb the man-servant 
 had carried his large ears out of the room, was all 
 about Florence and Mr. Morecoinbe. Of course 
 Sophie had told her mamma and Amelia everything, 
 and more than everything ; enough had transpired, 
 as newspapers say, during the earlier stages of the 
 dinner to make my uncle acquainted^with the news, 
 and therefore all that we had to do was to speculate 
 and ejaculate, and wonder how Mr. Hawke would 
 act now, and whether Aunt Damaris would side 
 with her brother or her niece, and what would be 
 the result when Emily told her papa that I was 
 lodging in Bristol and had been walking with 
 Florence — yes, and making love to her ? 
 
 I never should have supposed that my uncle was 
 a man to take any interest in such parish matters 
 as this ; and yet I assure you his curiosity was as 
 lively as that of the others ; he thoroughly relished
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 245 
 
 the conversation, and asked questions and ventured 
 ideas and passed his little jokes with surprising 
 enjoyment of the subject. But my notion is that 
 men have as keen a taste for small-talk as ladies, 
 though they pretend that it is only women who 
 like it and make it. Many a man have I caught 
 listening attentively and with strong satisfaction 
 depicted on his striking countenance to the cheapest 
 gossip about Miss Jenkins's marriage, his lord- 
 ship's elopement, the squire's meanness, and his 
 reverence's quarrel with the churchwarden. I 
 have seen bland old fellows sitting at the head of 
 the tables helping the scandal talked by their 
 wives and daughters by nods and inquiries and 
 small insignificant observations. It makes me 
 laugh to recall our conversation. The picture of 
 that room rises : my uncle's hairy, kindly face, 
 with his great Eoman nose, like the beak of a 
 flamingo, standing out over his moustache, and his 
 small shrewd eyes fuU of merriment and curiosity ; 
 my aunt opposite him, handsome, well-dressed, 
 trying to keep a firm hold of her sense of her duty 
 towards her neighbours, and repeatedly letting go ; 
 Amelia, fat, confident and knowing, and Sophie, 
 slightly hysterical, very poetical, and with a 
 disposition to languish whenever a sentimental 
 point was touched upon. I took particular notice 
 that my uncle did not attempt to banter me. 
 d, his behaviour suggested that he was
 
 246 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 inclined to view me as a considerable person who 
 had achieved a remarkable conquest, and of whose 
 future it was not easy to conjecture the extent 
 and importance. 
 
 " If Sophie's right," said he, " and I don't know 
 why she shouldn't be right, for she takes after her 
 mother," looking at her contemplatively, "I should 
 say, Jack, that Florence Hawke is in love with you." 
 
 " I have not the least doubt of it," exclaimed 
 Sophie. 
 
 "Well, then," continued he, "if that be so, all 
 that remains is to excite a feeling of affection for 
 you in Alphonso Hawke, and you'll have nothing 
 more to do than write out an impromptu speech 
 and get it by heart ready to deliver when the old 
 chap proposes your health at the breakfast." 
 
 " I am afraid," said my aunt, shaking her head. 
 "that it will take Mr. Jack a long while to make 
 Mr. Hawke fond of him." 
 
 " What Tm thinking of all the time is, what 
 will Mr. Hawke say to Florence when he hears 
 that she and Jack have been together this after- 
 noon ? " said Amelia. 
 
 " Do you think Emily will tell ? " asked my 
 uncle. 
 
 "Tell ! " cried Sophie. "Oh, papa, the inten- 
 tion I saw in her face was so strong that it was 
 enough to set the Bath chair rolling by itself to 
 Clifton Lodge."
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 217 
 
 "I sincerely trust," observed my aunt., "that 
 Mr. Hawke will quite understand, Sophie, that 
 your meeting with Florence was purely accidental." 
 
 " Matters have come to such a pass," said my 
 uncle, "that, let Mr, Hawke understand what he 
 will, my opinion is he'll think the same. But I 
 hope he'll not be unkind to his daughter." 
 
 " I hope not, too," said I, kindling. 
 
 "After all, what can he do ? " asked Sophie. 
 
 " Ay, what can he do?" echoed my uncle. 
 " Depend upon it, when a woman resolves for 
 good or for ill she'll have her wa} T , though her 
 father should lock her up in the Tower of London 
 and all the City Police should stand in the moat 
 with their truncheons shouldered. What's that 
 old song about locks, bolts, and bars ? Isn't 
 it called 'The Wolf? Jack, there's no wolf 
 in the world to equal love. Cupid indeed ! D'ye 
 know, I've but a poor opinion of the ancients for 
 making a bit of a baby with a pair of wings on 
 its back stand for the passion that moves the 
 world. Egad ! if an earthquake was a thing you 
 could draw, that's the sort of split-' em -alive muddle 
 I'd like to hang up as a correct portrait of love. 
 Cupid — and bows and arrows ! Blunderbusses, 
 Jack ! one hundred pounders, sir ! bombshells and 
 cannon balls, by thunder ! that's what I'd give 'em!" 
 
 But I'll not linger over this dinner-table nor the 
 conversation that took place at it. In all my life
 
 248 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 I never was in such high spirits. The fact that 
 Florence had flatly refused Mr. Morecombe was 
 only one item in a catalogue of rapturous me- 
 mories ; her manner, the pleasure she had shown 
 on seeing me, our talk behind the Bath chair, her 
 admission that she liked me a little bit, her " I'll 
 see " when I asked her if we were to meet again, 
 were recollections of a nature calculated to make 
 me feel very fit to waltz the whole way from 
 Clifton to my lodgings. When I bade my relatives 
 good-night my uncle held me by the hand arid 
 said, " Jack, I don't want to discourage you, you 
 know that ; but don't be too sanguine. You will 
 find Alphonso Hawke a very large difficulty. How- 
 ever, be patient, be honest, be sincere up to the 
 hilt, and above all, don't elope. Eunaway mar- 
 riages may answer very well for a time ; but let 
 me tell you, in spite of the old playwrights, that 
 a parent's blessing is an element of consecration 
 that no marriage should be without ; and, though 
 to be sure, old Hawke' s benediction might not 
 seem a sort of thing to sanctify circumstances 
 very much, yet, weak as it may be in that way, 
 you'll be better with it than without it." 
 
 I thanked him for his advice and told him in 
 rather an imposing manner that I hoped it 
 would not come to an elopement, though if 
 Florence should be rendered unhappy, I certainly 
 should not allow any domestic sentiment to stop
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 249 
 
 me — if she wished — from coming between her and 
 her father ; and then, accepting a cigar from him, 
 I departed, not a little inflated by his suspicion 
 that an elopement was possible. When I reached 
 my lodgings and sat down to think over what had 
 taken place that day, I was more than satisfied 
 with the judgment that had determined me upon 
 stopping in Bristol. Numerous delightful visions 
 rose before me as I sat looking at the little room 
 through the smoke of my uncle's excellent tobacco. 
 I pictured Florence driven to distraction by her 
 papa's severity and Air. Morecombe's importunities, 
 and calling upon me to rescue her from her state 
 of misery. I even went so far as to figure that 
 very elopement against which my uncle had 
 advised me. Yes, I went through the whole 
 agitating business. I prowled about the house, I 
 hid letters under a stone beside her father's gate, 
 where she would find them after dusk and eagerly 
 devour them ; I eventually won her consent to my 
 bearing her away from her luxurious but cruel 
 parental roof, and my undaunted imagination then 
 proceeded to figure us in London lodgings, poor, 
 but in the highest degree respectable, occasionally 
 helped by my large-hearted uncle, and then, after 
 a time, visited by old Hawke, who begged our for- 
 giveness and handed his daughter a cheque that 
 immediately enabled us to furnish a house in a 
 fashionable square. What young lover, perplexed
 
 250 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 by family objections, has not dreamt in some such 
 fashion as this ? We are all knight-errants in 
 youth — our chivalry runs high — we disdain dross 
 and think only of soul ; our lances are couched, 
 and we ride at full gallop. I had not sat in the 
 rather uncomfortable armchair ten minutes before 
 I had eloped, was married, was settled, was doing 
 well, was returning my relation's hospitality by 
 elegant entertainments, and had Mr. Hawke re- 
 peatedly calling, and talking of me in high terms 
 behind my back. And when I went to bed all this 
 happened again and again in dreams. 
 
 Yet, oddly enough, in spite of a night of para- 
 disaical visions, the first thought that came into 
 my head next morning when I awoke was my 
 uncle's parting sentence: "Jack, I don't want to 
 discourage you, you know that ; but don't be too 
 sanguine." I had risen rather later than usual, 
 had breakfasted, had written a letter to my 
 London landlady desiring her to forward me 
 certain articles, and was lounging with a pipe in 
 my mouth over a local paper. It was a little 
 after eleven o'clock. The breakfast things were 
 still upon the table, the cloth clean indeed, but 
 the general appearance not particularly handsome, 
 thanks to the remains of some fried bacon, a 
 couple of eggshells, a stain under the coffee-pot 
 where I had capsized a spoonful of the liquor. 
 
 All on a sudden a great gorgeous open carriage,
 
 I KECEIVE A VISIT. 251 
 
 drawn by two horses with plenty of silver on 
 their harness, and a couple of fellows in splendid 
 livery on the box, drove up and stopped with a 
 mighty rattle at the door of my lodgings. One 
 glance was enough to assure me that it was the 
 Hawkes' carriage, and that Mr. Hawke was inside 
 it and alone. I jumped up and backed to the end 
 of the room, whence I had a good view of the old 
 man, who gazed sternly and contemptuously at 
 the house, running his eyes up and down it. I 
 determined not to see him. The idea of his 
 coming fresh from the gilt and glory of Clifton 
 Lodge to this bit of a room with its broken egg- 
 shells and its cold relics of fried ham was awful 
 to me. What story would he relate to Florence ? 
 How would he triumph over her in his relation of 
 the figure the young gentleman who was in love 
 with her cut when he was at home ! 
 
 A fearful knock thundered through the house, and 
 the neighbours over the way crowded to the windows 
 to have a look. I went to the door of the room to 
 intercept the landlady. As is usual on occasions 
 when you are exceedingly impatient and don't want 
 people to be kept waiting, a considerable interval 
 elapsed before any attention was paid to the sum- 
 mons. The landlady then came out of the kitchen 
 very deliberately — the kitchen was at the back of 
 the house downstairs ; had the woman seen the 
 carriage or received into her ears the full thunder
 
 252 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 of the knock, she would have bundled up smartly, 
 no doubt — and I darted out upon her. 
 
 " Mrs. Chump," said I, " it is somebody for me. 
 Please say I am not at home." 
 
 " Not at home ! " cried she, looking at me with 
 astonishment. 
 
 "I mean that I don't want to be in — say I'm 
 out," said I, in an agony, 
 
 "But ye're not out," says she. "Would you 
 have me tell a lie ? Not for worlds, sir," and the 
 creature dropped me a curtsey. 
 
 At that moment a second terrific summons — it 
 was the footman, and I should have liked to knock 
 his head off; the villain, I suppose, thought he 
 could give himself airs upon a humble door — ■ 
 made Mrs. Chump hop like a wine-glass on a table 
 heavily thumped. I saw so much severity of con- 
 science in her face that I knew entreaty would be 
 useless, and unless I ran her into the kitchen and 
 threatened her with violence if she opened the door, 
 there was nothing for it but to allow her to let old 
 Hawke in. So I backed into the parlour, growling 
 to her to make haste if she meant to answer the 
 summons at all, and flung myself into a chair, 
 catching hold of the newspaper and assuming as 
 easy a posture as I could adopt. 
 
 "Is Mr. Seymour in?" the footman asked, after 
 muttering something about folks' impudence in 
 keeping people waiting.
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 2o3 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Chump, with hideous 
 alacrity and a voice full of awe, having had no 
 notion of the gorgeous apparition that stood opposite 
 her house. The old fellow got out of the carriage, 
 and I heard his hoots creak. " Announce Mr. 
 Hawke," said he ; and Mrs. Chump, shoving into 
 the room, said " Mr. Ork, sir.'' " Clear the table," 
 said I. "Pray walk in, Mr. Hawke," and I stood 
 up and pointed to a seat. 
 
 He looked an immense man in that little room. 
 "Can I," said he, standing against the wall so as 
 to be clear of Mrs. Chump, who was whipping the 
 breakfast things off the table, " have a few minutes 
 with you, sir ? " 
 
 " Certainly," I replied. " Never mind the cloth, 
 Mrs. Chump ; " and I shut the door upon her as 
 she backed out with her hands full of crockery. 
 Mr. Hawke sat down and put his hat and gloves 
 upon the table. He seemed to have grown half as 
 big again since I saw him last. In breadth of face, 
 surface of waistcoat, squareness of shoulders, and 
 length and dimensions of legs and arms, there 
 seemed a visible expansion. Now he was close to, 
 I could remark that he was very nervous, and I 
 judged that the scowls he had directed at the little 
 house were merely the outward expressions of a mind 
 labouring after courage. I was probably more ner- 
 vous than he, though I was successful in putting 
 on a manner that tolerably well cloaked my feelings.
 
 254 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 "I have called upon you," said he, sitting bolt 
 upright, " in reference to nay daughter, Miss 
 Hawke." I bowed and tried to look surprised ; but 
 it would not do. "I believe, sir," he continued, 
 "that you are no — aw — no stranger to my wishes 
 respecting that lady ? " 
 
 " I have heard from my relatives that you want 
 her to marry Mr. Morecombe, if that's what you 
 mean, Mr. Hawke," I replied. 
 
 " Sir," he exclaimed, with a heavy nod, " that 
 is what I mean. Your relatives are perfectly well 
 acquainted with my wishes, and — aw — I greatly 
 regret that a family whom I considered in the light 
 of friends should have — aw — should have thought 
 proper to — aw — to combine against me, to act in 
 concert with, or rather, let me say, to court my 
 daughter from the path of duty and — aw — back 
 her— yes, I will say and back her— in defying my 
 wishes." 
 
 "This," said I, "concerns my uncle. He is so 
 well qualified to take his own part that there is no 
 reason for me to do more than refer you to him." 
 
 " I consider him and his family more guilty than 
 you, sir," he exclaimed,' warming up and talking 
 with some briskness. " They knew my wishes ; 
 Mr. and Mrs. Seymour are — aw — are parents them- 
 selves. They had no right, I say, they had no 
 right to allow you and my daughter to meet, to — 
 to — in short — aw — it was their duty as parents and
 
 I BEGEIYE A VISIT. 255 
 
 neighbours to discountenance what the}' knew would 
 prove objectionable to in<_. 
 
 "All this, Mr. Hawke," said I, "as I have 
 already said., refers to my relations, and on that 
 subject my uncle is the proper person for you to 
 address yourself to. You have, I presume," said I 
 with a glance round the room as much as to tell 
 him not to judge me by what he saw, '*' called upon 
 me on some matter relating to myself. May I 
 inquire what it is? " 
 
 •• It concerns your admiration of my daughter," 
 he answered. " I have every reason to believe that 
 you have gone so far as to — aw — to express even 
 affection for her, and the purpose of this visit is to 
 beg you to discontinue your attentions to her." I 
 looked at him steadily, for my wits seemed to come 
 to me when he said this. " I have no doubt," he 
 continued, M that your regard for her is perfectly 
 sincere, and that you are actuated by the — aw — the 
 most gentleman-like and honourable intentions. 
 But that is not the point. Whatever construction 
 your intentions may bear, they — aw — they must 
 prove equally objectionable to me ; and I am here, 
 Mr. Seymour, for the purpose of calling upon you 
 as a gentleman not only to cease to have any 
 thoughts about Miss Hawke, but to prove your 
 principles as a man of honour by removing from 
 Bristol." 
 
 T looked at him with astonishment. "Remove
 
 256 JACK'S COUBTSHIP. 
 
 from Bristol ! " I ejaculated. " Cease to have any 
 thoughts about Miss Hawke ! " and, as I hope to be 
 forgiven, I burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 His face turned as red as a powder flag. " If/* 
 he exclaimed angrily, " I have no power to oblige 
 you to leave Bristol, you may rest assured that I 
 can and will stop your unwarranted attentions to 
 my daughter. I tell you this," says he, breathing 
 hard and laying hold of his beard with one hand 
 and in a manner menacing me with the other, " so 
 that if you have hired this lodging with the hope of 
 obtaining the end, which I have no doubt your 
 uncle has put into your head, you may as well spare 
 yourself disappointment by — aw — by leaving the 
 town without delay." 
 
 "I can assure you, Mr. Hawke," said I, "that I 
 would far rather you should talk to me rudely than 
 politely, because by so doing you enable me to tell 
 you more than I should think of saying were you 
 kind or even courteous. A couple of sentences will 
 convey my intentions. First, I mean to stop in 
 Bristol as long as I choose ; and second, I am in 
 love with your daughter, and have not the least 
 idea of relinquishing the hope of one day winning 
 her. I am sorry," I continued, '"'that your unkind- 
 ness should force me to speak so frankly. I'm not 
 going to tell you I respect your wishes about your 
 daughter. You have no right to force her hand. 
 The Commandment says she must honour you ; but
 
 I KECEIVE A VISIT. 257 
 
 you ought to honour hor too, sir. Still, I am sorry 
 to run foul of your notions, though if you suppose 
 I could help falling in love with your daughter, all 
 that I can say is, Mr. Hawke, you pay your own 
 child a very poor compliment. And since I'm 
 talking," said I, amazed by my own bluntness 
 and assurance, and yet not in the least degree able 
 to control myself, " I should like to point out that 
 I am no fortune-hunter. I am quite capable of 
 supporting a wife. Had I found Miss Hawke living 
 even in such lodgings as these, dressed like one of 
 your housemaids, and having to sew for bread, I 
 should love her not less than I do now, though I 
 could not love her more." 
 
 This put the old fellow quite at a loss. He had 
 been red, but now he was white. I suppose he saw 
 that I was not to be managed by his anger, nor to 
 be made ashamed of myself, and he would not like 
 to drop his sour dignity and high parental wrath 
 for an appealing attitude. He seized his hat and 
 gloves and stood up, and so did I. 
 
 " I had hoped," said he, "to have gained your 
 promise as a gentleman to cease annoying me 
 through Miss Hawke. But," added he brutally, "I 
 see what you are. And let me advise you," con- 
 tinued he, shaking his gloves at me, " not to come 
 near my house, not to have any communication 
 with my daughter, to — aw — to keep your distance, 
 though you should stop here for the rest of your 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 life. I'll have you watched, sir — I'll set the police 
 at you — I'll protect myself — I'll, I'll — why, con- 
 found your impudence ! who the devil are you, to 
 have designs upon my daughter?" he cried, casting 
 aside his " aws " and breeding and whipping out 
 with a genuine piece of squatterism. 
 
 Nothing but my temper stopped me from laugh- 
 ing at this exquisitely absurd contrast. It was not 
 pleasant, however, to be sworn at and scorned, and 
 I was in the act of delivering a hot answer when I 
 was stopped by a rapping on the window. I looked 
 and saw my uncle trying to peer in through the 
 muslin curtain and tapping with the head of his 
 stick. I immediately went to the door and opened 
 it, and he came in. 
 
 " Who have you here ? " he asked, kicking his 
 heels on the door-mat. "Has Florence driven 
 over to marry ye ?" 
 
 There was no use in crying "Hush! " to this; the 
 sitting-room door was open, and what was worse, 
 Mr. Hawke came into the passage as the question 
 was asked in a loud voice. 
 
 " Oh, how do you do, Mr. Hawke ? " exclaimed 
 my uncle coldly. " Jack, by your leave I'll sit 
 down. Egad, this heat is very trying to an old 
 man. Mr. Hawke, don't let me drive you away, 
 sir. Are you here on business ? if so I'll sit in 
 your carriage till you've done — but sit I must." 
 
 Mr. Hawke bowed stiffly, and was waiting for us
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 259 
 
 to come out of the narrow passage in order to leave 
 the house, when I said, " I hope you'll not hurry, 
 sir. Uncle, Mr. Hawke is here on business that 
 concerns us both. He has forced me to speak very 
 plainly — I am very sorry he should have given me 
 occasion to do so ; but now that you have unex- 
 pectedly called, and there are no ladies of the 
 family present, we cannot do better than talk this 
 matter out and have the satisfaction, at all events, 
 of knowing one another's meaning." 
 
 " That satisfaction we have already got," ex- 
 claimed Mr. Hawke angrily. "You have been 
 plain enough and you know my meaning, sir." 
 
 My uncle entered the parlour and sat down. 
 Hawke went to the table and stood against it, and 
 I remained in the doorway. 
 
 "What is the matter, Mr. Hawke ? What has 
 my nephew Jack been doing?" said my uncle, 
 putting on a face of concern but evidently not 
 disliking the situation. 
 
 " Mr. Seymour," said the old gentleman, very 
 pale, but speaking with pluck, "you are no 
 stranger to my wishes respecting my own child. I 
 find that your nephew has been paying her atten- 
 tion, and I charge him with obstructing a desire 
 that lies close to my heart. I have called for the 
 purpose of requesting him to cease having any 
 further relations with Miss Hawke, and to remove 
 himself from Bristol, where his presence is objec-
 
 260 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 ticmable to me ; and I think, sir, considering — aw 
 — considering that I owe this disagreeable state of 
 things to your introduction of your nephew to us 
 and to the interest your family have — aw — taken 
 in advancing him in my daughter's good graces, 
 manifestly against my desires, I have a right to 
 expect you to support me in the demands I have 
 made upon your nephew's honour as a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "You are fluent upon my honour as a gentle- 
 man, Mr. Hawke," said I, "but you do not treat 
 me as a gentleman." 
 
 " Look here, Mr. Hawke," said my uncle ; " I 
 can't control human nature. Jack is my brother 
 Tom's son: he is a gentleman, and I introduced him 
 to you as a gentleman. I am responsible to you 
 for his good manners. Had he behaved rudely at 
 your house, had he shown himself ill-bred, I should 
 have submitted to your reproaches like a lamb. 
 But I have no influence over his heart. If he is 
 in love with Florence it is her fault, not mine — her 
 fault for being a very pretty woman, do you see ? 
 Sir, you are an older man than I : let us exert our 
 common sense in this matter." 
 
 "It is really — aw — not a question of our joint 
 common sense, but for mine alone," exclaimed Mr. 
 Hawke hotly. "My daughter is my business; I 
 do not desire that your nephew shall — aw — shall 
 have any further relations with her, and since he
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 261 
 
 has as good as defied me and insulted me by the 
 most ill-placed — aw — the most ill-placed mirth, I 
 have given him notice," says he, turning upon me 
 with a scowl and then addressing himself to my 
 uncle, " that I shall spare no trouble to protect my 
 daughter against his disagreeable advances." 
 
 "You are not very polite, Mr. Hawke," said my 
 uncle, eyeing him somewhat grimly. " I should 
 have hoped that your respect for the genteel and 
 the exclusive would have taught you some reserve 
 in the use of words. As to Jack's advances — 
 they're not made to you, and consequently you 
 have no right to call them disagreeable." 
 
 "My respect for the genteel and the exclusive, 
 as you are pleased to call it," answered Mr. Hawke, 
 standing erect as a footguard in a sentry-box, " is 
 sufficiently great to make me desire that your 
 nephew will have nothing whatever to do with me 
 or mine." 
 
 " Xo desire of yours would weigh with me," said 
 I, going into the room so that I could look at him. 
 " I am in love with your daughter, not with } t ou ; 
 and if I marry her it will be to get a wife, not a 
 father-in-law." 
 
 " You are a very impudent young man," he 
 exclaimed, staring at me as if he had a mind to 
 fall upon me. 
 
 "But why d'ye insult him, then, Mr. Hawke ? " 
 cried my uncle. "If you object to him because
 
 262 JACKS COURTSHIP. 
 
 he is poor or because he's been a sailor, or because 
 he hasn't a title, say so; but don't speak to him 
 as if he was a parvenu, some ragman's son of 
 
 yesterday. Hang it, man ! I wouldn't address 
 even young Moreoombe in such words as you have 
 applied to my nephew." 
 
 k 'I am fully prepared to he insulted by you, sir," 
 cried Mr. Hawke ; " and if I linger another moment 
 in this — aw — this den it will be only to tell you 
 that I consider the manner in which you have en- 
 couraged your nephew in his encroachments upon 
 my — aw — my domestic circle, and the sympathy 
 your daughters have given Florence in her defiant 
 behaviour to her father, unworthy of you, sir, as 
 a gentleman and a neighbour." And so saying he 
 wheeled round and marched out of the room. 
 
 My uncle half rose as if to run after him : but I 
 put my hand upon his arm and stopped him. " For 
 Heaven's sake, let him go ! " I exclaimed. " He 
 believes he is wronged — he is an older man than 
 you — and consider for a moment how utterly 
 ridiculous must be any ideas Mr. Hawke may have 
 about what constitutes a gentleman ! " As I 
 said this the house-door was violently slammed, 
 and old Hawke, with his nose high in the air and 
 quivering with indignation, got into his carriage 
 and drove off. My uncle for a few minutes was in 
 a great passion. 
 
 " What did he say ? — that I wasn't a gentleman I
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 203 
 
 how can I punish him for that ? " he cried. " In 
 my young days I'd have shot him for such a 
 sentence. Not a gentleman ! Why did you stop 
 me from forcing him to apologize ? He never 
 should have left this house without apologizing to 
 me. Not a gentleman ! " However, he cooled 
 down after a little, and when I reminded him that 
 he insulted the old fellow first by sneering at 
 Morecombe, he burst into a laugh. 
 
 "But what a rude old chap he is! " cried he. 
 "What had he said before I arrived?" I told 
 him. "And does he think he can order you out 
 of Bristol?" he exclaimed. "I suppose all this 
 comes from Emily telling him of your walk with 
 Florence yesterday, which, coming on top of the 
 girl's refusal of Morecombe, would drive the old 
 man mad. It's odd enough that I should arrive 
 when he was here. I had some business at my 
 banker's, and being within five minutes of you I 
 thought I'd step in and rest myself. I recognized 
 old Hawke's carriage, and honestly supposed 
 Florence had called, for could I dream that Hawke 
 would come in state to visit you merely to have a 
 row?" 
 
 " I'm sorry it's happened," said I, lighting my 
 pipe with a gloomy face. " It has made enemies 
 of the two families, the very thing 1 left your 
 house to avert, and I am afraid he'll now take such 
 steps to stop all chance of my meeting or com-
 
 264 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 raunicating with his daughter as will play old 
 Harry with my hopes." 
 
 " Never you mind about his enmity so far as we 
 are concerned," replied my uncle ; " and as to 
 your chances, are you worse off than you were 
 before ? He may hate you now : he disliked you 
 then — what's the difference ? Let me tell you, my 
 lad, that his calling here is a thunderingly whole- 
 some sign for you, since it means that he's seen 
 enough in his daughter to calculate that you'll 
 make his chances of blood small enough if he 
 doesn't get you to sheer off somehow." 
 
 "Yes," said I, "I appreciate all that. But 
 don't you see that he may go and tell Florence 
 that I've grossly insulted him, and work upon her 
 feelings as a child." 
 
 " Tut, tut ! Work upon her feelings as a sweet- 
 heart, you mean. What's the name of the French 
 play in which either a lover or a father must forfeit 
 his life at the choice of a girl who decides by 
 sending her papa to the hangman and marrying 
 her young man ? The chap who wrote that knew 
 human nature. Make your mind easy. Love 
 betwixt youngsters always flourishes best where 
 there are family riots, just as you get the finest 
 fruits in the land where earthquakes are common. 
 Did you ever read ' Eomeo and Juliet ' ? I shan't 
 speak to your aunt or cousins about this. No need 
 for them to hear of this shindy. But I say, why
 
 I RECEIVE A VISIT. 2G5 
 
 d'ye want to go on living here now I You left 
 because you thought your presence at my house 
 would stop intercourse between the Hawkes and us. 
 You may take it," said he with a laugh, " that that 
 intercourse is now wholly suspended, though not 
 between Florence and the girls, I hope. Come 
 home with me, man, and make yourself happy." 
 
 I thanked him heartily, but declined, saying that 
 as things went there was no telling how long I 
 might require to remain in Bristol; and that I 
 was sure, let him do what he might to make me 
 happy at his house, to feel myself an intruder upon 
 his hospitality after awhile. I also pointed out 
 that my going to live close to Clifton Lodge might 
 cause Mr. Hawke to carry his daughter off to some 
 distant place which I might never get to hear of. 
 
 " I can't imagine that," said he, "if the distant 
 place has a post office and Florence means business. 
 But I don't want to influence you. There's no 
 doubt you're in earnest, and as you seem pretty 
 capable of playing your own cards, I don't want to 
 take upon myself the responsibility of directing 
 the game in any way. All luck attend ye ! He 
 called me no gentleman, did he ? and talked about 
 you as if you were a bargee ? All luck attend ye, 
 I say ! ••
 
 266 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LOGGINGS. 
 
 I told you when I set out that this yarn would be 
 more of a log-book than a regular tale, and though 
 I have kept my facts pretty close down to this 
 point, I have now reached a part where the form of 
 narrative I have chosen will very well serve my 
 turn for a spell. When nothing particular happens, 
 you see, there is no good relating it. Besides, what 
 should all these dialogues, quarrels, descriptions 
 which I have set down signify but steps in the 
 gangway ladder over the side to enable you to step 
 aboard the ship we are going to sail away in before 
 long ? If I had asked you to embark at Gravesend 
 at the opening of the tale, I should have had to 
 keep the anchor down and all hands waiting whilst 
 I told you what brought me aboard, and gave you 
 the history of some of the people walking on the 
 poop and explained who I was. No, I've done the 
 right thing, I reckon, in going back and bringing 
 you along with me to the sea (which should be
 
 LOGGINGS. 267 
 
 heaving in sight very soon), and in yarning to you 
 as we journey ahout the causes which drove me on 
 to blue water once more. So now then for an 
 extract or two from my log-book of that date. 
 
 The quarrel with old Hawke capsized my spirits 
 badly. It was all very fine for my uncle to pooh- 
 pooh, and say it made no difference. Not to him, 
 I dare say, but to me it was a most distressing cir- 
 cumstance. The old fellow of course had driven 
 away execrating me. I had defied him, in a 
 manner mocked at him. That was not all. He 
 had found me in mean lodgings, the room full of 
 tobacco smoke, the table ornamented with broken 
 eggshells and such things, and of course the notion 
 of my poverty begotten in him by what he saw, 
 would go further than the worst insults I could 
 heave at his head to force him into extreme 
 measures to end my pursuit of his daughter. I 
 suppose he had obliged Florence to divulge my 
 address, which she had obtained from Sophie. 
 Emily, of course, was at the bottom of it all ; and 
 as my uncle had said, my walk with Florence 
 combined with her refusal of Morecombe was more 
 than Alphonso could bear. How did I know that 
 his daughter had not given him reason to believe 
 that she was in love with me ? Between ourselves, 
 this was my conviction, and it was like luff-tackles 
 and preventer backstays to me during this rolling 
 and pitching and heaving and wallopping time.
 
 268 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 Yet bitterly did I regret that the old fellow had 
 called and found me in. He had manifestly come 
 in hot haste and in a passion ; his manner of talk- 
 ing proved that there was no policy, no fore- 
 thought ; he had commanded me to leave Bristol, 
 and threatened me, by heavens ! with the police if 
 I had anything more to do with his daughter. 
 Nothing but unreasoning temper could account 
 for such a nonsensical visit as he had paid me ; 
 and now he would go home smarting from the shot 
 poured into him by the small-arms man, my uncle, 
 and loathing me for the meanness of my habitation 
 and for my youthful scorn and defiance of him. 
 
 Says you, " And pray what had you to fear from 
 his loathing and all that, seeing that he was 
 bitterly opposed to you before ever he had set 
 foot in your lodgings ? " Ay, but can't you see, 
 mates, that this quarrel would strengthen his case 
 with his daughter ; it would enable him to repre- 
 sent himself to her as an outraged man, to depict 
 me in the basest and most odious colours to her, 
 and to appeal to her feelings as a child ? This I 
 say was my fear, and so acute was it that when 
 my uncle went away I determined to write Florence 
 a full account of all that had passed, implore her 
 not to allow her father to prejudice her against 
 me, and then, by hook or by crook, to get the 
 letter put into her hands, though the job should 
 cost me fifty pounds.
 
 LOGGINGS. 269 
 
 The breakfast cloth was upon the table, and I 
 rang for Mrs. Chump to remove it. "Pray, 
 ma'am," says I, with my temper bubbling like pea- 
 soup in a ship's coppers, " why did you subject 
 me to the disturbance — which of course you over- 
 heard — by refusing to tell the gentleman I was 
 out ? n 
 
 "Begging your parding, Mr. Seymour, sir, you 
 wasn't^out," she replied, stripping the table in an 
 agitated and distracted manner. "I couldn't go 
 to tell a lie against my own salvagion to oblige 
 no one." 
 
 "But "don't you know," cried I, "that a state- 
 ment of that kind is a mere form and not a lie, 
 well understood by people, and meant to save the 
 rudeness of the truth ? " 
 
 " My salvagion is first," answered Mrs. Chump, 
 "and my consideration is that, when I speaks no 
 matter on what." 
 
 " If that's your notion," said I, " you'll find it a 
 hard job to be saved, ma'am ; for should you live 
 to become an old woman, and I hope you may, I'm 
 sure, you'll go to your grave so loaded with sea- 
 blessings that there is every prospect of your 
 foundering under them ; and our hopes are that 
 way," said I, pointing to the ceiling, " and not 
 yonder," pointing to the floor. I then waved her 
 out of the room with a proper sweep of the hand 
 towards the door, and after pacing about for twenty
 
 270 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 minutes or so, rehearsing what I should say, I sat 
 down to write a letter to Florence Hawke. 
 
 I recall picturing her whilst I hung over the 
 note-paper, pen in hand, as being in a most dis- 
 consolate state of mind, her eyes red with tears, 
 her looks most forlorn, her father treating her 
 tyrannously, passionately using all sorts of 
 threats, Emily cold and contemptuous and speak- 
 ing of me only to say something vicious. All this 
 of course was purely imaginary; I mean that I 
 could not know that she was fretting or that her 
 papa was behaving brutally; but every young 
 fellow when he writes to his sweetheart has her 
 before his mind's eye, and addresses her as if she 
 were opposite him ; and that was what I did, 
 figuring Florence in the melancholy Mariana, 
 moated-grange-like posture I have described. It 
 was this that inspired my pen and caused me to 
 decant myself. I have no clear recollection of 
 what I wrote, but believe I told her about her 
 father's visit and implored her not to allow any 
 version he should give her of it to prejudice her 
 against me, and asked her never to forget that I 
 loved her to distraction, and would die for her if 
 by cutting my throat or hanging myself I could 
 make her happy. All this I may have written, 
 with a deal of other impassioned stuff, winding up 
 with a hint that if she was miserable she had no- 
 thing to do but to hoist a distress signal. It was
 
 LOGGINGS. 271 
 
 an impudent stroke. It really meant, " If your 
 father's treatment makes you wretched here, I am 
 ready to run away with you at a moment's notice." 
 I wanted her to understand that, to feel that I was 
 a refuge, and so I cocked it in ; but I say it was a 
 very audacious, impudent thing for me to imply. 
 
 Well, this letter being written, the next job was 
 to get it delivered to her. How was I to do that ? 
 I roamed about the little room like a prisoner in his 
 cell, turning over all sorts of notions. The queerest 
 ideas came into my head. What did I think of 
 taking a policeman into my confidence, describing 
 the lady and offering him a sovereign to watch for 
 old Hawke to leave the house, then knock, ask to 
 see Miss Hawke, give her the letter and tell her to 
 say he had called to know if any boys had been 
 getting over Mr. Hawke's walls? What did I 
 think of bribing the family butcher's man to 
 smuggle the letter into Florence's hand under the 
 pretence that it was a list of revised prices for 
 prime joints, and that his master had asked him 
 to see Miss Hawke and nobody else ? What did I 
 think of buying a cap or a hat and pinning the 
 letter inside it as if it were the [bill, and despatch- 
 ing it in a bag or box to Clifton Lodge ? These 
 are samples of the schemes which were hove up 
 out of me by the throes of my imagination. But 
 none of them satisfied me, and I was thrown back 
 upon Sophie. I knew her family would object,
 
 272 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 that I should be acting dishonestly in asking her 
 to convey the letter, and that she would be acting 
 undutifully in accepting the errand. But you see, 
 lads, it was bound to go somehow or other, and 
 there was no one to manage its transmission with 
 greater skill and secrecy than Sophie. So I went 
 to work and wrote to her, and I better remember 
 this letter than the other. I told her I was 
 rendered desperate by the necessity of communi- 
 cating with Florence, that I had no friend in the 
 world but dearest Sophie, that I blushed to ask 
 her to do anything in opposition to her parents' 
 wishes, and that I called Heaven to witness if she 
 would oblige me by handing the inclosed letter to 
 Miss Hawke, I would never again ask her to disobey 
 her mamma. This done, I rang the bell and asked 
 Mrs. Chump if there was an intelligent man or 
 boy knocking about anywhere, who for a couple of 
 shillings would immediately deliver the letters 
 (which were under one cover) at my uncle's house. 
 The words which had passed between us made her 
 anxious to oblige ; besides, I paid her fifteen 
 shillings a week, and was not to be sneered at. 
 Yes, Mrs. Galloway's boy would be glad to run if he 
 was at home ; she'd go and seek him. He was at 
 home, and came back with Mrs. Chump ; I gave 
 him the address and he instantly sped away, loudly 
 whistling ; and I sat down trembling after my 
 great intellectual exertions.
 
 LOGGINGS. 273 
 
 I passed the rest of the day in a very moping, 
 skulking fashion. I ordered Mrs. Chump to cook 
 me a chop by way of dinner, and found even the 
 lean thing she dished up more than my love -sick 
 appetite could consume. I wandered about the 
 Corporation quays, looked into the shop windows, 
 and so forth, but was never long away from my 
 lodgings. What tortures of mind I underwent on 
 account of that letter ! Would Sophie send it ? 
 "What would Florence think if she received it ? 
 Would she answer it ? Would she show it to her 
 papa ? Eveiy youth must endure experiences of 
 this kind, I suppose, when he is in love ; but I 
 declare that I would rather have half-a-foot of 
 my stature knocked off, or spend ten years of my 
 life in an Atlantic cattle-ship, than go again 
 through the sufferings of that .time. 
 
 At half-past eight that evening I was in my 
 sitting-room holding a novel in my hand, upside 
 down very likely, when a single knock was struck 
 upon the house door, and Mrs. Chump looked in 
 and said, " Mr. Seymour's servant, sir. for you." 
 I went out and saw Cobb, who flourished his 
 thumb upon his forehead and said, " Miss Sophie's 
 love, sir, and she sends you this."' It was a 
 letter ; I carried it to the candles, and found two 
 inclosures, one from Sophie and the other (sealed 
 in a very little envelope) from Florence. When I 
 saw this tetter's handwriting, the bold 1 "Jack 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 Seymour, Esq.," with F. H. up in the corner and 
 the familiar goose for a seal, my agitation was so 
 great that the letters quivered in my hand like a 
 flat candlestick in the grasp of a nervous man 
 awakened by unusual sounds in the dead of 
 night. I read it through, and then I read 
 Sophie's, and then I turned to the other, and 
 might have gone on reading them over and over 
 again alternately for an hour or two had I not 
 been interrupted by a modest cough in the passage. 
 I peered and found Cobb erect on the door-mat. 
 
 "Why, Cobb," said I, " I quite forgot that you 
 were waiting." 
 
 " Is there any answer, sir?" he inquired. 
 
 " No," said I, and I put two half-crowns into 
 his hand. He was humbly thankful, and then 
 went away. Sophie's letter ran thus : — 
 
 " My dear Jack, 
 
 "I was actually talking to Florence 
 at our gate when the boy arrived with your note. 
 She had been visiting some poor person and I 
 had been to the library for a novel, and we met 
 opposite our house. I asked the boy what he 
 wanted, and he said he had brought a letter from 
 a gentleman. I looked at it and saw it was ad- 
 dressed to me, which made me rather nervous, 
 for, upon my honour, Jack, I did not know your 
 handwriting. Well, inside I found your letter to
 
 LOGGINGS. 275 
 
 Florence, and I said, ' Now this is too bad ! here 
 is my cousin wanting me to be his postman 
 against mamma's wishes. However, Florence,' 
 said I, ' as you are here, there can be no harm in 
 handing you this,' and I gave her the letter. She 
 read hers whilst I read mine. I asked her what 
 you had written. She put the letter in her pocket 
 and answered, ' Oh, papa has called upon him, 
 and I am afraid there has been a quarrel. I shall 
 hear all about it when I get home.' But there 
 was more in your letter than that, I am sure, for 
 there was the prettiest colour in her cheeks, and 
 she could not help smiling — not disdain fully — oh, 
 dear no, sir ! quite the contrary, I assure you. 
 Then she asked me what my letter contained. I 
 told her to read it, as I had no secrets ; and then 
 I said, ' Shall you answer yours ? ' ' I don't know,' 
 said she ; ' he ought not to write to me.' ' Don't 
 leave the poor fellow in suspense, Florence,' said I. 
 * See how he has written to me ; he is clearly 
 dying of love. I don't know what he has said 
 to you, and I don't ask; but if it deserves an 
 answer you ought to write, dear.' ' I couldn't send 
 him a letter by post,' said she. * If I write a short 
 note will you forward it to him ? ' After begging 
 her to write, I felt it would be mean to refuse her ; 
 so I said ' Yes,' intending to tell mamma when 
 the letter arrived and ask leave to send it you. 
 Well, it came half an hour ago, and mamma said,
 
 276 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 ' You cannot help it, for Florence was with you 
 when Mr. Jack's letter was brought, but it must 
 not happen again.' So here you have your sweet- 
 heart's letter, and since she appears willing to 
 correspond, the best thing you can do is to get 
 me to ask her how you may write to her in 
 future without trying to make me break the fifth 
 commandment. 
 
 "Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Sophie. 
 
 " P.S. — When are you coming to see us and tell 
 me all about your quarrel with Mr. Hawke ? 
 "What did he say — was he rude ? " 
 
 Florence's letter was shorter and sweeter. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Seymour, 
 
 " Sophie has given me your letter. I 
 am grieved that papa should have called upon 
 you ; so many things are done in this world which 
 are quite unnecessary. You need not fear that 
 I shall be prejudiced by anything that can be 
 said. I hope I am able to form my own opinions 
 on people and judge for myself. But I must ask 
 you not to write to me again. I have already 
 incurred my father's serious displeasure, and am 
 anxious to do nothing to offend him. Hardly 
 anything has pained me more in all this trouble 
 than being separated from your cousins, whose
 
 LOGGINGS. 277 
 
 society I loved. However, I shall never allow 
 anything to estrange them and me. Whenever I 
 am alone and pass your uncle's house and see 
 Sophie or Amelia I stop and speak, and perhaps 
 on one of these occasions we may chance to meet. 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "Florence Hawke." 
 
 How this letter may strike you I cannot guess ; 
 me it sent slap into heaven. No wonder I gave 
 Cobb two half-crowns ; fifty times that money 
 would I have cheerfully paid to the bearer of that 
 ecstatic document. Sly did Sophie call her ? Oh, 
 shipmate, is the beautiful plant sly for blossoming ? 
 I admit that there was a trifling contradiction 
 between the passage in which she said she was 
 anxious to do nothing to offend her father and the 
 sentence in which she showed me how I might 
 sometimes meet her. But consider the influences 
 which were acting upon her. If you start the 
 port wheel of a paddle-boat hard ahead and reverse 
 the starboard wheel hard astern, there's no helm 
 that I know of which will make the vessel hold a 
 steady course. But, Lord love you ! I am not 
 spinning this yarn as an apology for the darling 
 of my heart. Love is a current that has caused 
 many a stronger nature than my lassie's to drag 
 and cut and run. And see here, boys ; if a parent 
 don't want his child's anchor to " come home " —
 
 278 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 and you know what that means — let him take 
 care to furnish her with good holding-ground in 
 his own character and conduct. And so Amen 
 to that as a piece of briny advice, dedicated to 
 the memory of Alphonso Hawke, and be hanged 
 to him ! 
 
 And now for a second logging, and much will it 
 surprise you, I don't doubt. It is something as 
 unexpected in its day as the entry of the Yankee 
 mate, who, being drunk, fell overboard, and when he 
 was fished up and put into dry clothes, staggered 
 to his journal and wrote, " This day the ship went 
 down, and all hands was drowned but me." 
 
 The entry is this : " I did not see Florence Hawke 
 again on dry land." 
 
 Through no fault of mine, you may heartily 
 believe. Day after day for a fortnight together I 
 would walk to my uncle's house, and when there 
 hang about the front grounds in the hope that 
 Florence would pass. I was honest enough to 
 explain to my uncle why I haunted his premises. 
 " Come I must," said I, " unless you order me out ; 
 and, even then, the Queen's highway being as much 
 mine as yours, I shall buy a camp stool and sit at 
 your gate, for I want to see Florence Hawke, and 
 she told me I was likely to see her here, and I 
 don't know what has become of her. She has not 
 written to Sophie ; my cousins say they are for-
 
 LOGGINGS. 279 
 
 bidden to write to her, and amongst you all there 
 is no means of getting any satisfaction." 
 
 "Jack," replied my uncle, "you may sit outside 
 or inside my gate and welcome ; you may perch 
 yourself on one of the spikes atop of it, if you 
 please ; and you are still more welcome to make 
 my house your home and to keep watch for your 
 beautj 7 from your old bedroom window, where, if 
 you'll but say the word, I'll have a telescope 
 mounted for you strong enough to show the dairy- 
 maids making green cheese in the moon. But 
 though I don't want to discourage you, as you know, 
 there seems something so fantastic in the game 
 you're playing, that upon my word, if I were you, 
 I'd chuck up the sponge and retire before all this 
 hoping and moping and mooning has made your 
 heart too battered a thing to offer to the next 
 peerless creature ye may happen to light on. 
 What's the good of going on tacking and ratching 
 when wind and tide are against you, and when 
 every board you make finds you further to leeward ? 
 Better bring up, man, coil down, and turn in." 
 
 To all which of course I listened with irritable 
 disdain, thanking him for his advice, and assuring 
 him that I would rather miserably perish by the 
 hands of the hangman than abandon the only 
 hopes which now kept me alive. 
 
 However, before the fortnight was quite expired, 
 Sophie, who was my good angel, managed to get
 
 280 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 some news for me. She had met a Miss Lloyd, 
 who was a friend of the Hawkes, at the house of 
 a Colonel Coldsteel (the people of Bristol and 
 Clifton will of course understand that all the names 
 in this book are false), and she learnt from this 
 young lady that Florence .had been confined to the 
 house by a violent cold that had threatened her 
 with an attack of pleurisy ; also that Mr. More- 
 combe had left Clifton Lodge, his ankle being 
 sound again ; and further, that Miss Damaris 
 Hawke had arrived from Australia on the preceding 
 evening. When Sophie told me this I immediately 
 exclaimed, "Is it a severe cold, do you think, or 
 is it her papa's cruelty ? How are we to know 
 that he is not slowly breaking her heart by his 
 severity ? " 
 
 "Well," replied Sophie, " some suspicion of that 
 kind came into my head, and I asked Miss Lloyd 
 several questions. She said that she had not seen 
 Florence for a week, and that when they met she 
 could not help thinking there was something on 
 her mind, for her spirits did not seem good. But 
 there can be no doubt that she is confined to her 
 house by a cold, for Mr. Hawke' s doctor attends 
 the Lloyds, and Miss Lloyd heard about Florence 
 from him." 
 
 " But why don't you write ; why don't you call ; 
 why don't you do something, Sophie ? " I cried. 
 "What is Mr. Hawke to you? Florence is your
 
 LOGGINGS. 281 
 
 friend; if you can to Ik to her out of doors, what 
 should prevent you from sending her a note or a 
 servant to know how she is ? " 
 
 "I would do so gladly," she answered, speaking 
 with unaffected concern ; " but bit by bit the story 
 of Mr. Hawke's quarrel with papa in your lodgings 
 has leaked out, and mamma will not hear of our 
 having anything further to say to the Hawkes, 
 unless we meet Florence accidentally, when of 
 course we niay speak, she says. I am truly sorry 
 for her sake and for yours, Jack ; but we must 
 study our dignity."' 
 
 I had nothing to say. My aunt's views were 
 quite proper ; but it was a bitter hard time for me, 
 mates. I had bargained on meeting Florence 
 again and again, and the disappointment and the 
 not knowing what to do and what was to happen 
 made it, I say, an awful time for me. Would she 
 not think that if I were as devoted as I had sworn 
 I was, that I would move heaven and earth to learn 
 how she was, and to let her know that I was at 
 hand, loving her to distraction, and willing to cut 
 off my head to please her ? But there was no 
 mode of communicating with her, no means of 
 learning how she did except from the chance gossip 
 of her friends. Memory, however, is a nourish- 
 ment on which the little god Cupid will sometimes 
 contrive to keep himself fat, if not comfortable ; 
 and, for my part, I had a fair stock of that diet
 
 282 JACK'S COUETSHIP. 
 
 to live on. I almost forgot how long I had then 
 been in Bristol, but certainly not very many weeks 
 had passed since I had met Florence for the first 
 time ; and during those few weeks there had been 
 enough passages between her and me to enable 
 me to take many a good plunge into memory and 
 emerge always ardent and always resolved from 
 the delightful bath. 
 
 I well remember that when I heard that 
 Florence's Aunt Damaris had arrived, and when 
 I had considered a little over that piece of news, 
 I felt somewhat uneasy, conjecturing, of course, 
 that Hawke's sister would side with him in his 
 wishes about Florence, and that my darling might 
 have to contend with another oppressive influence 
 in this Australian spinster. But on the whole 
 I do not know that thoughts of Aunt Damaris 
 troubled me much. Of Florence's relations I 
 can only recollect thinking of one with constant 
 anxiety, and that was old Hawke. He had not, 
 it is true, the power of preventing his daughter 
 from running away with me if she had a mind to 
 marry me in that fashion ; but whilst she remained 
 too loyal to her home to forsake it without her 
 father's consent, she and I were at the old chap's 
 mercy, for he had really nothing to do to effectually 
 separate us but to carry her abroad and go on 
 journeying about with her until he should reckon 
 he had travelled me out of his sphere altogether-
 
 LOGGINGS. 283 
 
 I may tell you that the fear that he would act in 
 this way haunted rue incessantly, and made me a 
 good deal more cautious than my temper would 
 otherwise have suffered me to behave. I know 
 very well that I would again and again have 
 defiantly rung the bell of Clifton Lodge and asked 
 after Florence ; I would have hung about the 
 house; I would have spared no extraordinary pains 
 and expense to communicate by letter with the 
 darling of my heart had I been sufficiently well-to- 
 do to have followed in the wake of old Hawke all 
 over the world — that is, if I ended in driving him 
 out of Clifton. But it was very certain that if 
 Alphonso carried his daughter away from England, 
 I should be 'sewed up,' as Jack says, for want of 
 funds to stick to his skirts. What sort of a pursuit 
 of them through Europe should I have been able 
 to make on something less than five pounds a 
 week? Many a long talk would I have on this 
 subject with Sophie and Amelia, who always tried 
 to persuade me that Mr. Hawke was not a man 
 to leave his home and wander about the Continent 
 with his daughter merely to shake off a young 
 fellow whose attentions were objectionable ; but 
 I was not so sure. I would say, " Yes, but if 
 Mr. Hawke has set his heart on splicing Florence 
 to Morecombe, and if Florence is unmistakably 
 showing by her manner that she has a liking for 
 me, and growing low-spirited and so forth, then in
 
 284 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 my opinion he is just the sort of man to take 
 strong measures to end (as he might hope) a 
 business that is putting a stop to his queer 
 ambition. Other fathers have done stranger and 
 more troublesome things than taking their daughters 
 away for a year or two in order to warp the girls 
 clear of the men who are not wanted." 
 
 " Ay, but Jack," I remember Amelia answering, 
 " do you think that Mr. Hawke attaches all the 
 significance you think he does to your admiration 
 for Florence ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do," said I. "I told him I wanted to 
 marry his daughter, and I suppose he knows what 
 that means." 
 
 "And do you suppose, Amelia," said Sophie, 
 always at my side fighting for me, " that Florence 
 has not given her papa to understand that she is 
 fond of Jack ? If he thought that Jack's admira- 
 tion did not signify, why should he have called at 
 his lodgings and requested him to discontinue 
 admiring Florence and leave Bristol ? " 
 
 Amelia had no reply to make to this ; but she 
 still declared that in her opinion Mr. Hawke was 
 not so frightened of me as to go abroad with his 
 daughter and leave his home for the length of time 
 that would be needful to make such a measure as 
 that of use. 
 
 "I earnestly hope he is not," said I; " but we 
 shall see."
 
 LOGGINGS. 2Sr> 
 
 Well, the days rolled on, and never once did I 
 set eyes on Florence nor hear of her. Utterly 
 disheartened, I abandoned the punctual visit I had 
 made to my uncle's house in the hope of finding 
 her talking to my cousins. Nor did I ever en- 
 counter her in the streets, though several times 
 I met the Hawkes' carriage, sometimes occupied 
 by Hawke and Emily, sometimes by Emily and 
 a friend, and on the last occasion by an elderly 
 lady with a sharp face and a wide brown hat, 
 whom I privately suspected to be Aunt Damans, 
 though she was rattled past too quickly to enable 
 me to tell more than her countenance was of 
 a severe and hatchet-like aspect. Over and over 
 again would I ask Sophie or Amelia, and very 
 often my uncle, if there was any news of Florence. 
 They would be one day able to inform me that she 
 was still in Clifton, another day that somebody had 
 said she was better, later on that somebody had 
 said she was quite well, that Miss Jones had met 
 her with her aunt at a circulating library, that 
 Dr. Thompson was at a dinner party at Clifton 
 Lodge and said that Florence was present and 
 looked lovely, and so on; and once my aunt was 
 sure that Florence was with her father in then- car- 
 riage, but she would not look, as she did not want 
 to catch Mr. Hawke's eye or appear to see him. 
 
 Of course whatever there was of mystery in 
 Florence's withdrawal from us was wholly due to
 
 286 JACK'S COUKTSHIP. 
 
 my impatience ; for I would forget to consider that 
 a week in those days seemed as long as a year, and 
 that for some time she had been indisposed and 
 confined to the house. But I who was half crazy 
 to see her, immoderately jealous to behold her 
 sweet face that I might interpret from it some sign 
 of thought, some hint of expression favourable to 
 my passionate wishes, found a week passed without 
 seeing her as long, as I have said, as a year, and 
 naturally fell into many harassing and distracting 
 conceits respecting her. 
 
 " It is all very well," I said to Sophie, " for Miss 
 Jones and Mr. Kobinson and Dr. Thompson and 
 the rest of them to tell you that she drives and 
 walks and dines and is cured of her cold ; but how 
 the deuce is it I never see her ? How is it you 
 don't meet her ? Does she take another road when 
 she calls upon her poor families ? Why did she 
 write that she hoped we should meet when she 
 passed your house and caught sight of you, if 
 she meant nothing by it ? " 
 
 Whereupon Sophie with much good sense ex- 
 plained that in all probability Florence had not 
 felt well enough to call upon her poor families, and 
 consequently had had no occasion to pass along the 
 road in which my uncle's house stood ; also that, 
 for anything we could tell, her papa had prohibited 
 her from walking alone, "in which case, Jack," 
 said she, "it would be better not to meet; for if
 
 LOGGINGS. 287 
 
 she should he with Emily or Mr. Hawke we should 
 have to pass her, which would he very paiuful and 
 embarrassing to her and us ; and if she were with 
 her aunt we might really risk being insulted by 
 stopping to shake hands, for depend upon it 
 Mr. Hawke has poisoned his sister's mind against 
 us all, so that there is no telling how Aunt Damaris 
 might behave were we to meet." 
 
 However, about ten days or a fortnight after the 
 arrival of Aunt Damaris — it is convenient to make 
 the movements of that old lady a scoring-peg in 
 these recollections — I had been dining with my 
 uncle, and was lingering with the others over the 
 dessert, when Cobb, the man-servant, entered with 
 a letter, which he gave to Sophie. She immediately 
 exclaimed : " It is from Florence ! " and read it. 
 You may conceive that I watched her fat face 
 attentively. 
 
 "Well," cried my uncle, "what does Jack's 
 Delight say ? Any loving messages ? Does she 
 send me a kiss ? " 
 
 " Don't be ridiculous, Charles ! " exclaimed my 
 aunt. 
 
 " She is going to Scotland," said Sophie. 
 
 " What ! ", I shouted ; and I let drop the dessert 
 knife and fork I was plying, and fell back in my 
 chair. 
 
 " Don't faint, Jack ! " bawled my uncle. 
 " Amelia, give your cousin a glass of brandy."
 
 288 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " What is she going to do in Scotland, Sophie ? " 
 I asked in a weak voice. 
 
 " Eead the letter aloud, Sophie," said my uncle. 
 " Sing it out, my love. We're all related here, and 
 there are no secrets. Now then." 
 
 Whereupon Sophie read as follows : — 
 
 "Deadest Sophie, 
 
 "I am so very sorry to have been able 
 to see nothing of you of late. No doubt you know 
 that I was confined to the house for a week with 
 a violent cold, which at one time the doctor was 
 afraid might lead to an attack of pleurisy, as I 
 suffered a great deal from pain in the side. 
 However, I am now quite well. Aunt Damaris is 
 .with us, and she has taken me under her wing. 
 Papa is very glad to have her. Her visit will last 
 about a month or six weeks, and she has made the 
 voyage merely for her health and for the sake of 
 seeing us. I am writing chiefly to let you know 
 that Aunt Damaris, papa, Emily, and I are going 
 to Scotland to-morrow, though how long we shall 
 be away I do not know, nor can I tell you yet the 
 place we shall stay at, as nothing will be arranged 
 until we have arrived in Edinburgh. At all events, 
 you will know in what part of the world I am. 
 Papa says the excursion is necessary for my 
 health, and it is to be made for me alone. But 
 indeed I am quite well, and do not feel to need any
 
 LOGGINGS. 2 89 
 
 change, and am very sorry to leave Clifton, even 
 for a short time. If I can manage to write to you 
 from Scotland, I will. Meanwhile accept my dear 
 love, and remember me most affectionately to your 
 papa and mamma and Amelia. 
 
 "Yours sincerely, 
 
 " Florence Hawke. 
 
 " Do not forget to remember me to your cousin 
 Jack. Is he still at Bristol, and will he remain 
 there now, do you suppose ?" 
 
 " That's all,*' said Sophie ; and she put the 
 letter into the envelope and passed it to me. 
 
 " A woman's meaning is always reserved for her 
 postscripts," observed my uncle. " Florence's love 
 to you, Sophie, and her affectionate remembrance 
 to us will not do. Her letter is meant for Jack, 
 and for nobody else." 
 
 '* And that is why I have given it to Jack," 
 Sophie. 
 
 " There can be no doubt," said my aunt, 
 "judging from her allusion to Miss Damaris 
 Hawke, that that lady is acting as Florence's 
 duenna." 
 
 "I am sure of it!" exclaimed Amelia. " My 
 belief is that Mr. Hawke has refused to allow her 
 to walk alone. You will find that her aunt has 
 always accompanied her since she has been well 
 enough to leave the house." 
 
 V.'L. I. E
 
 290 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 " How neatly the girl puts it," said my uncle. 
 " ' Aunt Damaris has taken me under her wing.' 
 The sentence tells an immense story — long argu- 
 ments, a few shindies, a mass of abuse of us, 
 scorn and hate of Jack yonder, and, as a result, 
 Aunt Damaris with that boy's sweetheart under 
 her lean arm ! But cheer up, Jack — Aunt Damaris' 
 visit is only to last six weeks." 
 
 I had been reading Florence's letter, and now 
 put it in my pocket as my uncle addressed me. I 
 was foolishly depressed, and felt myself haggard 
 and long-faced. "I told you, Sophie," said I, 
 " that Mr. Hawke would carry Florence away. 
 This is but the first step." 
 
 " The first step to what ? " my uncle asked. 
 "Why, to a long tour abroad in the hope of 
 curing Florence of her liking for me." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said my aunt ; " and 
 if Mr. Hawke decides upon leaving England, I 
 should never be surprised to hear that young 
 Mr. Morecombe has accompanied him and his 
 daughter." 
 
 " Well, if he goes he can't take his house with 
 him," said my uncle ; " he is bound to come back 
 sooner or later ; so that all you have to do, Jack, 
 is to lay in a good stock of tobacco and wait here 
 for your friends to heave in sight." 
 
 " Fancy Jack being the first to meet them at 
 the railway station on their return after an absence
 
 LOGGINGS. 291 
 
 of three or four years," said Amelia, laughing. 
 " How pleased Mr. Hawke would be to see him ! " 
 
 " There's nothing funny that I can see," 
 exclaimed Sophie, looking at me sympathetically. 
 " The meaning of it to you, Jack, is that Florence 
 is in love with you, and that her papa thinks he 
 can change her mind by changing the scene. He 
 is very much mistaken ; and so long as you can 
 feel that she is faithful it ought to be all the same 
 whether she is in Clifton or Scotland." 
 
 " Sophie, it is really no business of ours, my 
 love," said her mother mildly but significantly. 
 *'We all wish Mr. Jack every success in his difficult 
 courtship ; but under the circumstances there 
 must be some little impropriety in your identifying 
 yourself with it too zealously." 
 
 " I love Florence and I love my cousin, mamma," 
 said Sophie, "and I do not like to see them un- 
 happy." 
 
 I jumped from my chair, ran round the table, 
 and kissed her. It was the first kiss I had ever 
 given the dear girl, and a heartier smack of the lips 
 was never administered. "It is the only way in 
 which I can thank you for your speech, my darling," 
 said I ; and I returned to my chair, leaving Sophie 
 blushing, Amelia rather pale, my aunt alarmed, 
 and my uncle grinning from ear to ear.
 
 292 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 I RETURN TO LONDON. 
 
 Well, sure enough, Florence was carried off to Scot- 
 land next day by her papa and Aunt Damaris ; with 
 them went Emily, and Clifton Lodge was left in 
 charge of the butler and the house-keeper. Never 
 did I pass such a night as that which preceded my 
 darling's departure. Sleep ! Bless your heart alive r 
 mates, never in an all-night job at sea, bending 
 brand-new canvas, amid a whirling darkness of 
 spume and vapour, in the room of the shreds which 
 streamed from hanks and jackstays and boltropes, 
 reducing sail bit by bit, heaving to, standing by 
 for those quarter-deck yells which were never long 
 in coming, was I wider awake. Over and over 
 again I made up my mind to follow her next day — 
 to hang about the station until she and the others 
 arrived, and then jump into the train with them ; 
 and I only succeeded in dissuading myself from 
 that suicidal project by vowing that I would be up 
 and away for the North the instant Sophie was-
 
 I RETURN TO LONDON. 293 
 
 able to tell me in what part of Scotland old Hawke 
 had come to a stand. I must have lighted and 
 extinguished my candle a dozen times that night, 
 for I would bundle out of the sheets and walk about 
 the bedroom, reading Florence's letter to Sophie 
 and looking at her likeness, and then roll into bed 
 again and put out the light in the hope of falling 
 asleep, and afterwards turn to and have another 
 scratch at the lucifer box to satisfy some doubt by 
 taking a fresh squint at the letter, and so on and 
 so on until the sun arose and the blessed dickybirds 
 chirped. 
 
 The only crumb of comfort I could find lay in 
 what my uncle had suggested — that the letter to 
 Sophie was really meant for me. I was in her 
 thoughts when she wrote, as the postscript proved. 
 Me it was for whom the news of her going to Scot- 
 land was intended. That reference to her being 
 under Aunt Damaris' wing was to let me know why 
 she had given me no chance of seeing her. And 
 what was the postscript but like asking me if I 
 meant to forget her because her papa was taking 
 her away ? Forget her ! as often as I read that 
 sweet P.S. so often would I kiss her likeness; and I 
 desire here to make my compliments to the French 
 gentleman who photographed her on the indelibility 
 of his printing, for had the portrait been an 
 en'aceable thing I was bound to have kissed away 
 every trace of my pet's face and figure, ay, as
 
 294 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 completely as a shower of rain takes the curl out 
 of a feather. 
 
 But, oh ! in spite of her letter, in spite of the 
 encouragement I found in it, the prospect of her 
 absence, the cooling effect that might be produced 
 in her by my being out of sight, the possibility of 
 young Morecombe forming one of the party, the 
 result of the formidable influence which would now 
 be exerted by the combined powers of Alphonso 
 and Damaris Hawke, rendered contemplation 
 absolutely hideous. I was harassed by a mis- 
 giving as heavy as a presentiment that this was 
 but the first of old Hawke's steps, and that the next 
 would carry him and Florence out of the United 
 Kingdom, leagues beyond the reach of my slender 
 purse. No doubt in time the old fellow would return 
 and bring his daughter with him ; but suppose More- 
 combe accompanied them, and Florence, sick of 
 travelling and worried by her aunt and papa, 
 consented to marry him ; or suppose in their 
 journeys they met some agreeable young man 
 who'd shove me overboard out of Florence's heart ; 
 or suppose that travel enlarged her mind to such 
 an extent as to make her admit to her father that 
 though she declined to marry Morecombe she now 
 saw that he was right in his notion that a young 
 seafaring chap on a small income, without pros- 
 pects or occupation, was not after all quite up 
 to the mark as a match for a young lady who was 
 a beauty and would have a fortune ?
 
 I RETURN TO LONDON*. 205 
 
 But it is a mistake to suppose. Half the misery 
 of life lies in it. They have a good saying at sea : 
 il Suppose your aunt had whiskers, what a very rum 
 uncle she would make ! " 
 
 Well, my lads, the Hawke family went away to 
 Scotland that day I knew they were gone by 
 taking a walk in the afternoon past Clifton Lodge, 
 and observing that the blinds were down as though 
 somebody lay dead in the house. 
 
 However, before a week had gone by I discovered, 
 now that Florence was three or four hundred miles 
 distant, that nry Bristol lodgings were altogether 
 too small and dull to be tolerable. Mrs. Chump 
 became an eyesore; the prospect over the wa}- 
 a mortification every time I looked out of window. 
 I was tired of Bristol city, and though I could have 
 spent another month or two very happily at my 
 uncle's house, where the evenings were always 
 cheerful and the days full of the business of driving 
 and riding and dining, and so forth, yet as I did 
 not choose to return, heartily welcome as I knew 1 
 should be, I made up my mind to go to London and 
 await news of Florence from Sophie ; for in Lon- 
 don I could make time fly faster than ever I could 
 drive it in the country, and all that I desired now 
 was to get rid of the weeks during which Florence 
 was to be absent from Clifton. I announced my 
 intention to my relatives on an occasion when we 
 were all together. They tried hard to persuade me
 
 296 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 to return to tkern, but I was firm, I was consci- 
 entious, I was highly moral. No ! it was a ques- 
 tion of delicacy : I desired that Mr. Hawke might 
 fully understand that my aunt and family had no 
 share in the courtship I had undertaken : and with 
 many thanks therefore I declined to be their guest. 
 
 " I won't call you a swab again, Jack, because 
 you didn't like it before," said my uncle, "but if I 
 knew of another word to express the same thing, 
 dash my wig if I wouldn't bestow it upon you." 
 
 My aunt and Sophie, however, came to my 
 rescue, particularly my aunt, who said that though 
 she was very sorry I refused to stay with them, yet 
 she thoroughly respected the feelings which made 
 me decline. 
 
 " And how long d'ye mean to stop in London ? " 
 said my uncle. 
 
 I looked at Sophie and answered, " It will 
 depend." 
 
 " What will Florence say when she returns and 
 finds that her faithful shepherd has given up watch- 
 ing the landscape which has been sanctified by the 
 feet of his lovely Chloe ? " asked Amelia. 
 
 I gave her a nod and a smile, as much to say, 
 " Don't trouble yourself : I'll arrange for all that." 
 
 " Jack knows his own business," said my uncle ; 
 " we have no right to interrogate him, more especi- 
 ally since we have all been prohibited from having 
 a finger in his pie," looking at his wife.
 
 I RETURN TO LOXDOX. 297 
 
 And so the matter ended, so far as this particular 
 passage was concerned : though that same evening, 
 being alone with Sophie, I had a long talk with her, 
 in which I gave her all my reasons for not stopping 
 at her house, and then went on to explain that my 
 wits were growiug rusty in the Bristol lodgings, 
 which were horribly dull, and that a return to 
 London would freshen me up and enable me to 
 apply myself with livelier spirits, if not with a 
 sturdier resolution, to the job of winning Florence 
 Hawke. 
 
 " M3 7 programme then is this, Jack, is it ? " said 
 she ; "if Florence writes to me from Scotland I am 
 to answer her letter, and to speak of you in it." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What shall I say about you ? " 
 
 " All that you like— all that I feel, Sophie. Tell 
 her that I grew dull in lodgings, that I have 
 returned to London to recruit my spirits, and to 
 kill the horribly tedious time which her absence 
 makes life to be, but that I shall come to Bristol 
 by the first train that follows your letter in which 
 you inform me she has arrived." 
 
 •• Very well," said Sophie ; " mamma can't object, 
 for it is really only newt, and one must say some- 
 thing when one writes a letter. But suppose my 
 epistle should fall into Mr. Hawke's hands ? " 
 
 " There's a risk in everything," I replied ; "we 
 must take our chance. If Florence wishes to hear
 
 29S JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 from you — in the hope of hearing about me — I 
 dare say she will manage to receive the letter and 
 keep it to herself." 
 
 "Well, we'll see first whether she writes, and I 
 can then decide how to act by what she says," 
 exclaimed Sophie. "And what else must I do '?" 
 
 " Keep a look-out for my darling — get any news 
 that you can lay hold of, and forward it to me 
 slap ! " 
 
 " On which you will come to Bristol ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " To your present lodgings ? " 
 
 "Well, I don't know: I'll see about that," 
 said I. 
 
 "And what is your policy afterwards?" said 
 Sophie. 
 
 " Why," cried I, "to meet her as often as I can, 
 to get her to own that she loves me, to hang on to 
 her with my very eyelashes sooner than let go, and 
 — and — yes, Sophie," said I, grasping her arm, " if 
 her father refuses his sanction, if she will consent, 
 to— to " 
 
 "What!" whispered Sophie, looking thrilled: 
 "not an elopement ? " 
 
 " A secret marriage," I exclaimed. " Why not ; 
 would it be the first that had ever taken place ? 
 If it is to be pull devil pull baker between Hawke 
 and me, the weakest must be dragged, i" don't 
 want anything clandestine. Much as I hate
 
 I RETURN TO LONDON. 209 
 
 marriage ceremonies, with their favours, speeches, 
 dresses, and blubberings, I'd rather go through 
 fifty weddings with my sweetheart than bolt with 
 her. But if Florence loves me and I love her, and 
 we're resolved to have each other and Hawke won't 
 hear of it, what's the right step ? Yield to the old 
 man ? Never ! " cried I, brandishing my fist. 
 
 Sophie's fat face was full of emotion. " Upon 
 my word, Jack," she exclaimed, " I believe you'll 
 end in making a real romance of your love. What 
 desperate ideas you have ! I'm sure Florence ought 
 to feel very much flattered." 
 
 But let me coil these lengths of plans down, and 
 hang them over the pin they belong to out of the 
 road, for when I come to think how they, like a 
 good many other schemes I have formed in my 
 life, warped me not an inch forward, though all the 
 beef that was in me I applied to the capstan bar as 
 I shouted, I feel ashamed to write them. I want 
 to put nothing but the truth into these loggings, 
 and arrangements that never came to anything 
 somehow don't strike me as facts. You might as 
 well describe dreams or reveries as plans from 
 which as little emerged as would come from an 
 empty eggshell under a sitting fowl. And these, 
 my hearties, are the unpleasantest parts a man can 
 light upon whilst spinning the yarn of his own 
 doings ; for nothing proves to him more shrewdly 
 how big a fool he has been in his day, than his
 
 300 JACKS COURTSHIP. 
 
 having to confess to a foresight which was ahout as 
 perceptive as if he had tied his head up in a bag. 
 How bigwigs like chancellors and statesmen who 
 want posterity to respect them for their wisdom can 
 have the courage to sit down and write about their 
 lives, hang me if I can imagine ; unless, indeed, 
 they make a lie of their yarns by omitting what- 
 ever would show that at bottom they were not very 
 much wiser than you or me. But avast now ! 
 we've had enough of philosopherizing, as an old 
 shipmate of mine called all ideas which oblige 
 a man to scratch the back of his head and heave-to 
 for words. 
 
 It was about a week after Florence had gone to 
 Scotland that I went away to London. Mrs. 
 Chump was sorry to lose me. I dare say she 
 would have risked her salvation to the extent of 
 saying I was out when I was in had I agreed to 
 stop on those terms. But her lodgings were too 
 small; there was no kind of figure to be cut in 
 them ; they were as dull as a forepeak ; and so I 
 gave them up for good, having resolved to seek 
 bigger and better-looking rooms when I returned. 
 I pass over the leave-taking from my relations. I 
 wanted to hand over the balance of the fifty pounds 
 my uncle had given me, but the moment I opened 
 my mouth on that subject he fell into a passion, 
 asked me what I took him to be, eyed me from 
 head to foot, and inquired in a cold voice whether I
 
 I RETURN TO LONDON. 
 
 imposing upon him when I said I had heen to 
 sea, since no sailor man would treat a relation so 
 ill as to offer to return a gift. " That sort of thing," 
 said he, "only happens hetween sweethearts. 
 When Florence has become thick enough with you 
 to receive your gewgaws, then when you and she 
 quarrel and she sends your Brummagem stuff back, 
 you may pocket it — there's no insult. But to offer 
 to return a gift — not a loan — but a gift to a gentle- 
 man you're on good terms with — roast me, if you 
 don't deserve to be rope's-ended." 
 
 So I kept the money, nor can I conscientiously 
 say that it went against my grain to do so ; for 
 after all, why shouldn't a well-to-do uncle tip his 
 nephew ? and what's fifty pounds ? Why, I could 
 spend twice that money in a week : and then, faith, 
 have little enough to keep by me in memory of it. 
 
 I was pleased to observe that my aunt did not 
 much like saying good-bye to me. I dare say she 
 thought that, on the whole, she had not acted very 
 maternally towards the motherless shell-back who 
 had given his heart to a beauty and had no friend, 
 if he had not his relations, to say a word for him 
 or give him a hand. She held on to me when we 
 bade each other farewell, said a hundred kind 
 things, and almost gave me to understand that if 1 
 went away counting upon Sophie she was not dis- 
 posed to baulk my hopes. My cousins accompanied 
 me to the station, and I had a confidential chat with
 
 302 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 Sophie on the platform, whilst Amelia stood a little 
 apart in respectful recognition of the mission her 
 kind, affectionate, loyal sister had made her own. 
 
 "You shall hear without fail," said she, "the 
 moment I get the news of Florence's return." 
 
 "And you will write her a letter all ahout me 
 when you hear from her, and you'll send me her 
 letter, Sophie ? And I wish that you would look 
 about at your leisure for some comfortable rooms, 
 nearer to Clifton Lodge than my lodgings were . . ." 
 And I was mumbling on when the guard interrupted 
 me by a loud " Jump in, please, sir, if you're going." 
 " God bless you, Sophie ; I shall never forget what 
 you have done and are doing. We shall meet again 
 soon. Good-bye, Amelia ; " and in a few minutes 
 Bristol city was astern of me.
 
 ( 303 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 A TERRIBLE BLOW. 
 
 As well as I can remember, I had been about two 
 months absent from London when I returned to it ; 
 though when I entered my rooms and looked about 
 me and thought of the day when my uncle drove up 
 and introduced himself and gave me that invitation 
 to Clifton which had ruined my peace of mind, ay, 
 as completely as if I had committed a forgery or 
 set fire to a church, it seemed that a year, and a 
 very long one too, had elapsed since then. But I 
 had not been in town a couple of days before I dis- 
 covered that I should have enjoyed an easier mind 
 had I stopped in Bristol. I had hoped to find the 
 time bowl along; I reckoned upon getting some 
 amusement out of my old town habits, and return- 
 ing to my courtship the fresher for the change. 
 But I mistook. London I found so insipid that a 
 positive loathing for it came over me. My club was 
 a bore, and the gossip of the men there, their cheap 
 talk about the new actress, Jenkins' last novel, the
 
 304 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 quarrel between the two Q.C.'s, and the like imper- 
 tinence, flat, flatulent, and rank. The tragedian I 
 had formerly considered a great artist I found now 
 to be a poor mouthing impostor, a sham made up 
 of hair and gasps, and I remember wishing I had 
 him at sea when his yawling drove me away before 
 the end of the first act. 
 
 The truth is, I ought to have stopped at Bristol. 
 In London I was peevish, irritable, moody ; nothing- 
 was congenial ; there was no one whose arm I could 
 take and pour out my heart to ; I felt the solitude 
 described by Byron when he speaks of a man being 
 alone in crowds, and again and again called myself 
 an ass for not sticking to the country where I 
 could have gone on musing over fell and flood. At 
 Bristol I had Sophie ; there was Clifton Lodge to 
 look at ; there were spots full of lovely memories. 
 But London ! it was all shoving and elbowing in 
 the streets, not even a shop window that I could 
 fix upon as having been consecrated by Florence's 
 gaze, and I had nothing but her adorable likeness 
 to console me. However, since I had come to 
 London I made up my mind to stop until I should 
 hear of my darling's arrival at Bristol, and I did 
 not want my relations to think me capricious and 
 unstable by returning and so making myself out as 
 not knowing what to be at. Meanwhile I wrote to 
 Sophie pretty nearly every other day, venting 
 myself in such a style that I have no doubt, were I
 
 A TERRIBLE BLOW. 305 
 
 now to see my letters to her, I should feel very 
 heartily ashamed of myself. She always answered 
 me punctually, and somehow always managed to 
 make out a long letter, though the dear girl had 
 very little news to give me ; but her sympathy was 
 delightful, and she contrived to apologize for 
 Florence not writing to her from Scotland, so art- 
 fully — she invented so many able excuses for my 
 sweetheart's silence — that for a pretty good spell of 
 time I do not recollect very keenly feeling the dis- 
 appointment of opening her letters and finding no 
 second inclosure. She might be ill, Sophie would 
 suggest ; or perhaps she had made up her mind 
 not to write until she could see her way to receive 
 a reply unknown to her papa, who, of course, was 
 not likely to sanction any correspondence between 
 her and the Miss Seymours ; or she might be 
 under a kind of restraint through Aunt Damaris' 
 vigilance. 
 
 Well, Sophie's excuses for Florence satisfied me, 
 as I have said, for a time ; but when letter after 
 letter arrived from my cousin without a word from 
 my darling, my soul grew very grievously worried. 
 Her waiting " in order to see her way to receive a 
 reply unknown to her papa " would not do ; it did 
 not satisfy me. She might write, anyway ; and if 
 she could not get Sophie's answer without the risk 
 of her father plumping upon it, then let her request 
 my cousin not to address a letter to her. Was 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 Aunt Damans prevailing ? Was young Morecombe 
 with her, and gathering headway ? Was absence, 
 instead of making the heart grow fonder, doing the 
 other thing ? I arrived at such a pass that I would 
 sometimes say to myself, " Jack, you fool, it is all 
 up. Your dream is over, my lad. This is your 
 first love affair — you see what it has come to. The 
 girl was never in earnest. She enjoyed your being 
 so and helped you to sink, because all women like 
 admiration, and there's no flattery like a man's 
 love. That's real ; words may mean anything, but 
 love's a fact, something to lean against, something 
 to catch hold of. What will you do uow ?" I write 
 light-heartedly of that time ; but as a bit of living 
 experience it did this for me : it filled me for the 
 rest of my life with compassion for man or woman 
 who loves honestly and is deceived. There are 
 many human troubles over which the world makes 
 merry, and disappointed love is among them ; for 
 that, perhaps, we have to thank the old comedy 
 writers and our latter-day cynics, who are some- 
 what sensitive in their way, too, though very bitter ; 
 but depend upon it, mates, a young, generous, 
 affectionate heart deceived in its first love so suffers 
 as to be a mournful sight. Other loves may follow, 
 the first wound may be healed, the scar effaced, but 
 whilst that wound is fresh the torment is sharp 
 enough to make even a monkey who shall witness it 
 pensive ; and I would as soon now think of jeering
 
 A TERRIBLE BLOW. 307 
 
 at the nipping and blasting of the first pure bud 
 put forth by human affection as of ridiculing a 
 person praying, or laughing at a mother weeping 
 over her dead first-born. 
 
 However, I had not to wait over long before 
 coming to an answer to my question, What will you 
 do now ? for one morning — and this made the time 
 very nearly a month since Florence Hawke had 
 gone to Scotland — there came a letter from Sophie, 
 the bulkiest I had ever had from her, and when I 
 opened it I found four pages of crossed handwriting 
 from Florence, with half a dozen of lines from my 
 cousin, who struck so dismal a note in the very 
 little she said that I am able to recall every syllable 
 of it from the memory of the consternation it raised 
 in me. " My poor dear Jack," she began — think of 
 that: poof dear Jack ! — " it is with deep sorrow I 
 send you Florence's letter. I fear it will greatly 
 affect you, because nobody knows so well as I how 
 fond you are of her. Yet you would not forgive me 
 if I did not keep my promise to forward any letter 
 she should write. You must cheer up and try to 
 look this thing bravely in the face, and if Florence 
 and you are fated not to come together, why, then, 
 what can you do but console yourself by remember- 
 ing that there are as good fish left in the sea as 
 ever came out of it ? Yours affectionately, Sophie 
 Sfamour." 
 
 Lads, I'll not attempt to describe my feeling
 
 308 JACK'S GOURTSHIP. 
 
 when I read this. I was all of a tremble, as old 
 chimney hags say. I rushed to the conclusion that 
 my darling had been urged to accept Mr. Morecombe, 
 and was going to be married to him in due course ; 
 and the groan that echoed through Sophie's letter 
 resounded down to the very bottom of my soul. I 
 took up Florence's closely-written sheet, and fell to 
 spelling it over with ashen lips. But as I made my 
 way into the network of words — why will girls cross- 
 their letters ; is not paper cheap enough ? — a 
 sensation very different from the one first excited 
 was produced in me. It was a kind of despair, too, 
 but of the nature of a pure balsam to my heart 
 after the desperate throb that had first wrenched it. 
 The letter was addressed to Sophie and dated at 
 Dunkeld, and my darling began by explaining that 
 she had deferred writing to Sophie until she was 
 able to communicate something positive. "We 
 have been here a fortnight," wrote she, "and during 
 that time I have watched matters gradually shaping 
 themselves to the point we have arrived at, and 
 about which I am at last able to write definitely." 
 I gathered that there had been a good many 
 " scenes." Aunt Damaris had taken her in hand 
 and remonstrated with her for rejecting Mr. 
 Morecombe. The young fellow called upon them 
 in London, but did not accompany them to 
 the North. What Aunt Damaris saw of him 
 delighted her. She was lost in amazement
 
 A TERRIBLE BLOW. 309 
 
 that Florence could refuse so handsome, so 
 well-bred, so aristocratic a youth. "I will not 
 repeat," rny adorable girl wrote, " the argu- 
 ments she and papa have used to try and make 
 me accept a person I never could like. Between 
 them they have made me truly unhappy. Indeed, 
 papa seems quite to have lost control over his 
 temper, and never neglects a chance to speak 
 insultingly of your cousin, though I have solemnly 
 declared to him that Mr. Jack Seymour has had 
 no more to do with my refusing Mr. Morecombe 
 than he had with the eclipse of the moon that took 
 place last month. The truth is, dear Sophie, 
 having made me low-spirited and unhappy by 
 incessantly worrying me about Mr. Morecombe, 
 papa and Aunt Damaris have at last persuaded 
 themselves that I am pining with secret love, and 
 what do you suppose they have decided on ? I am 
 to accompany Aunt Damaris to Sydney next month ! 
 She sails on the 28th in the Strathmor.e, the ship 
 she came in, so that I have three weeks before me 
 in which to return to Clifton Lodge, make arrange- 
 ments for the voyage, and bid you all good-bye. 
 What will you say to this ? and do you ask what I 
 think ? Well, dear, I cannot pretend that I am 
 sorry. I am not very happy just now at home. 
 Papa does not, I am sure, mean all he says, but he 
 is crazy about Mr. Morecombe, and I may tell you 
 in strict confidence he is afraid of your cousin — how
 
 310- JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 stwpid men are ! — and I Lave to thank Aunt 
 Damans for proposing this voyage, which is of 
 course planned with the idea of clearing my mind 
 and making it fit to receive the lovely image of 
 Mr. Morecombe. I shall regret to leave Clifton and 
 my friends, but I do not dislike the idea of the 
 voyage; It will be a treat to me to see dear old 
 Sydney again, and I am never happier than when 
 on the broad ocean. How long I shall be away it 
 is quite impossible to guess ; eighteen months or 
 two years, I dare say." There was a great deal 
 more in her letter than this, but all that concerns 
 my yarn I have given. 
 
 Well, as I have said, the truth came as a kind of 
 relief to me after the fears which Sophie's note had 
 excited. I had made up my mind to hear that she 
 was going to be married to Mr. Morecombe ; and so 
 passionately did I love her that had that been the 
 news I do believe it would have affected me as much 
 as if I had heard that she was dying. But though 
 the first movement of my mind was comparatively 
 one of pleasure, when I read the letter and found 
 that let her relatives worry and bully her as much 
 as they pleased they could not persuade her to take 
 Mr. Morecombe, yet when ray mind received the 
 full meaning of her father's intention to send 
 her to the other end of the world, I felt positively 
 crushed, and sat like a fool staring at the letter in 
 my hand, unable to form any ideas and incapable
 
 A TERRIBLE BLOW. 311 
 
 of understanding more than that some thousands of 
 miles of ocean were to be put between my darling 
 and me, and that many a long month must pass 
 before we should see each other, if indeed we ever 
 again met. As you know, I had for some time 
 feared that a great deal of what would prove bad to 
 me was to happen. I had calculated upon her 
 father carrying her out of England and roaming 
 with her about Europe until, as I have before said, 
 he might flatter himself he had travelled me clean 
 out of her sphere and educated her into a proper 
 conception of the merits of the youth he wanted her 
 to marry; but never had I reckoned upon his 
 sending her to Australia — that is to say the other 
 side of the globe — right away past the Cape of Good 
 Hope and across the Southern Ocean ! And yet 
 now that this thing was settled upon, I saw that it 
 was more likety he would send his daughter to her 
 native land along with her aunt, than turn to and 
 make a martyr of himself by hauling her about 
 Spain and France and such countries. Australia 
 sounds a long way off, but even as a sailing voyage it 
 is no serious business, and if Hawke supposed that 
 1 was at the bottom of his daughter's refusal of 
 Mr. Moreconibe, if he considered that I had made 
 her fond of me, and that the only chance he had to 
 bring her into his way of thinking was to put the 
 horizon between her and me, then 3*011 can't say ho 
 was ill-advised in seizing the opportunity of his
 
 ol2 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 sister's return to Sydney to despatch his daughter 
 with her to that place. 
 
 But as for me — what was now to do, mates ? 
 For a whole hour, maybe, I sat glaring at Florence's 
 letter ; and then something resembling my senses 
 coming to me, I wrote four or five pages to Sophie 
 in which I declared that my heart was broken, that 
 I had a dreadful presentiment upon me that 
 Florence and I were never to meet again, that as to 
 her one day returning, why, if I found three or four 
 weeks insupportable without the prospect of meeting 
 her, how was I to endure her absence for two years 
 with the certainty of being hopelessly forgotten by 
 her long before she returned ! In short my letter 
 came very near to being a piece of delirium ; never- 
 theless it did me good to write it, and I took care 
 before sealing the envelope to tell Sophie to endea- 
 vour to communicate what I had said to Florence, 
 that she might know what a miserable bruised 
 worm she would leave wriggling on Britannia's soil 
 behind her when she sailed.
 
 ( 313 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 A GRAND IDEA. 
 
 I do not know at what hour of that blessed day the 
 glimmer of the notion that came to grow into a 
 determined scheme might have been visible upon 
 my mind; I reckon it would be in the evening. 
 But be this as it may, I was sitting in my lodging 
 with Florence's letter in my hand, when on a sudden 
 I found nryself thinking, " Strathmorc — Strathmorc 
 — why, that's the name of one of the ships belonging 
 to the employ I was in. She will be an Australian 
 liner too ; " and I took up a daily newspaper and 
 ran down the shipping advertisements, and after a 
 little lighted upon this : 
 
 " For Sydney direct, taking passengers at through 
 rates to other ports in Australia and Xew r Zealand, 
 for which a separate arrangement must be made, 
 the magnificent composite clipper ship Strathmorc , 
 100, a 1, 1,381 tons register, Daniel Thompson, 
 Commander; lying for inspection in the East India 
 Docks. This favourite regular trading vessel is one
 
 314 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 of the fastest ships in the Australian trade. Her 
 cabins are elegantly fitted and supplied with every 
 convenience, including beds and bedding. She will 
 carry a surgeon. For further particulars apply to 
 Duncan, Golightly, el' Co., Fenchurch Street, 
 London.'' 
 
 This then was the Strathmore, sister ship to the 
 Portia, rny last vessel, owned by my late em- 
 ployers ; and unless there was more than one man 
 of the same name in that service she was com- 
 manded by an old shipmate of mine, Daniel 
 Thompson, who had been second mate of the 
 Montrose when I was in her as third. Now ever 
 since I had given up the sea as a profession my 
 thoughts and tastes had held so steadily landwards 
 that I don't remember I had once gone so far as 
 even to glance at the shipping advertisements in 
 search of a familiar name, whilst during the three 
 years I had been ashore I was never nearer to 
 the region where the docks of the port of London 
 lie than Leadenhall Street. Nor (perhaps because 
 1 stuck tenaciously to the west end of the town) had 
 I in all that time crossed the path of a former ship- 
 mate. Stay ! three months after I had been ashore 
 I met a third mate I knew, slightly disguised in 
 liquor, in Waterloo Place. He would have lovingly 
 embraced me, but I dodged his arms and sent him 
 off happy with the loan of half a sovereign, which 
 he said would be all the monev he had in the-
 
 A GRAND IDEA. 315 
 
 world; but he was the only Bailor-man of my 
 
 acquaintance I had encountered since I left the 
 sea. 
 
 This long severance from ni}* old life made it 
 seem a great way off, and when I read the name 
 of Strathmore and Daniel Thompson, memories 
 which appeared to belong to another world rose 
 up, and I fell a-musing whilst, without the least 
 presentiment of what was to come from this new 
 train of thought, I raked about in the dust of my 
 mind for recollections and constructed a picture 
 with them of my seafaring days. There are a 
 great man}* miracles in this world, from the 
 animalcule you can't see down to the man so 
 constituted by nature as to be able to raise his 
 foot to a woman ; but there is nothing in that line 
 to beat the mechanism of thinking; the way in 
 which the imagination catches hold of the crank 
 of the mind and turns it, bringing up idea after 
 idea, all in a beautiful and logical procession, 
 just as you may see a steam-winch rattling up 
 " notions " from the hold of a ship at a dis- 
 charging berth. The sight of that advertisement 
 about the Strathmore, and my old shipmate Dan 
 Thompson, sent me to sea again right out of hand, 
 and though I was within a pistol-shot of Regent 
 Street, with the roar of rolling omnibuses and cabs 
 in the air, and the smell of London strong in my 
 nostrils, I was as much upon the ocean as I sat in
 
 316 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 my armchair with the newspaper on my knee 
 and my eyes fixed upon the wall, as though the 
 Pacific Ocean was around me and the ship eighty 
 days out. I had boarded the Stratkmore in Sydney 
 Bay, and as she was built by the firm who had 
 turned out the Portia and was constructed on the 
 same lines, was of the same measurement as that 
 vessel and fitted exactly like her, why, you may 
 suppose when I put myself upon her poop in fancy, 
 I saw her as clear as a man might figure the wife 
 of his bosom by recalling her appearance. One 
 thought led to another. I pictured Florence 
 aboard, Captain Thompson mightily taken by her 
 beauty, and giving her his arm for a walk to wind- 
 ward whenever there was seaway enough to make 
 such gallanting reasonable ; then the bright picture 
 of the cuddy as I would remember it on fine days 
 came up, with its table agleam with damask and 
 glass, stewards wandering around it, a pleasant 
 company of ladies and gentlemen eating and drink- 
 ing, and I figured Florence among them, and anon 
 rose the fancy of the breathless tropical evening, 
 the moon in the south, the dew like diamond dust 
 upon the rails and skylights, and Florence standing 
 alone, looking away into the infinite leagues of 
 gloom. 
 
 Now it was at this, or at some point of my 
 reflections very near to it, when the sense of her 
 going away and the conception of the immeasurable
 
 A GRAND IDEA. 311 
 
 miles which would separate her from me when she 
 had sailed, had cut into my heart like a knife, 
 bringing down a whole flood of those internal tears 
 which men who have never wept since they were 
 in petticoats have shed again and again at times 
 of misery in their lives — at this point of my 
 reverie, I say, an idea flashed upon me that 
 caught my breath like a blow in the side ; an 
 extraordinary exultation seemed to swell my head 
 to four times its proper dimensions. Do you smile 
 at that, mates ? Well, next time you are rendered 
 hysterically joyful, note the sensation in your head 
 and hair. And in a trice I had sprung out of niy 
 chair and was walking about the room as hard as 
 my legs would cany me, my cheeks burning with 
 the sudden excitement. 
 
 And what do you suppose it was that had put 
 these heels to my spirits and was working in me 
 like a pint of proof rum ? Nothing more than the 
 simple question asked by some faculty inside me 
 ['ni willing to call divine : Why don't yon go 
 with Flon nee ' It was a revelation, a grand 
 possibility, and as easy to do as calling a cab 
 and driving to a railway station. How was it that 
 the idea did not instantly occur to me when I read 
 Florence's letter ? I'm sure I cannot tell you. I 
 was rendered maudlin and muddy by the news, I 
 suppose, and could only see out of one eye. But 
 now that the notion had come to me it was as
 
 318 JACKS COURTSHIP. 
 
 simple to understand as boxing the compass, and 
 when I had worked off my delirium by bowling 
 about the room, I lighted a pipe and sat down to 
 trim the noble scheme, and to set the whole matter 
 square and shipshape in my brains. 
 
 It was one of those adventures indeed which no 
 man could be better qualified to undertake than a 
 sailor, and in a score of respects might I reckon 
 myself privileged. First of all I had no calling to 
 detain me at home ; I was an independent man, 
 and it was all the same to me whether I lived in 
 London or Bristol, or voyaged to Australia. Xext 
 I had the means to pay for my passage, which 
 would not impoverish me either, for whether I 
 stayed at home or went to sea as a passenger I 
 should have to live, and it would not cost me more 
 to live at sea than if I stayed at home. Third, if 
 the Captain Daniel Thompson whose name was 
 advertised as the Strathmore's commander was the 
 same person who had been second mate of the 
 Montrose when I was in that vessel, then I should 
 be associated with an old friend to whom I could 
 explain the object of my voyage, and whose help 
 I could count upon. I name but a few of the 
 advantages under which I should embark on this 
 adventure. As to what good might come of the 
 voyage, I did not allow that consideration to 
 trouble me. Was it not enough that my scheme 
 promised me several months of constant inter-
 
 A GRAND IDEA. 319 
 
 course with my darling? Conceive my feelings 
 when I reflected upon being locked up in a ship 
 with Florence. Why, down at Bristol, as you 
 know, I was lurking about and could not get even 
 to see her; only just now I had sent a long-winded 
 letter to Sophie telling her I was sure I should 
 never meet my heart's delight again; and here, 
 in a jiffy, comes a scheme which would enable 
 me to be by her side or within sight and sound 
 of her hour after hour, no Alphonso Hawke to 
 loom close at hand and scowl me away, no one 
 to interfere but an aunt who had never set eyes 
 on me, and who should never know, if I could 
 help it, who I was. 
 
 The prospect took such complete possession of 
 me that I remained indoors the whole evening, 
 and sat thinking over it far into the night. When 
 at last I went to bed I lay there very restless, 
 picturing the voyage, thinking of my darling and 
 myself at sea, plotting all sorts of courtesies and 
 attentions to Miss Damaris Hawke so as to win 
 her regard, and then fell asleep to dream that I 
 was on a raft alone with Florence in the middle 
 of the ocean, and that we were rescued by a 
 steamboat commanded by Mr. Morecombe, who 
 nourished a telescope upon the paddle-box, and 
 shouted " Ease her ! " and /' Back her ! " like any 
 Thames penny skipper. 
 
 Next morning I received a letter from my uncle,
 
 320 JACK'S COURTSHIP 
 
 four lines only, saying that be would be in London 
 on tbat day, and asking me to lunch with him at 
 the Great Western Hotel. I was very willing to 
 lunch with him, but ought I to open my mind — T 
 mean could I trust him with the secret of my 
 project? Suppose my aunt, influenced by neigh- 
 bourly feelings, should deem it her duty to apprise 
 Mr. Hawke of my intention to accompany his 
 daughter to Australia. Was that likely ? I could 
 not be sure : and not being sure, ought I to 
 jeopardize my noble scheme in the least degree 
 by speaking about it to those who were pretty 
 certain to repeat what I said? These considera- 
 tions worried me until it was time to start for 
 Paddington, and then I finally decided to sound 
 my uncle first, to talk with a great deal of caution, 
 and to trim as I might find the wind blowing. 
 
 I found him waiting for me in a private room in 
 the hotel, and when I was ushered in he ordered 
 lunch to be served, saying he was half dead with 
 famine. He asked me how I was, and I inquired 
 after my aunt and cousins ; and these civilities 
 being over, he exclaimed, "lam glad to see you 
 with some colour in your cheek, Jack. I expected 
 to behold a scarecrow — a skeleton with its clothes 
 hanging loose upon it." 
 
 " Why ? " said I. " Do you think I have been 
 ill ? " 
 
 " No. no ! I judge from what Sophie told me.
 
 A GRAND IDEA. 321 
 
 She had a letter from you this morning — a regular 
 twister. She wouldn't show it me, nor would I 
 have had time to read it, for I barely saved the 
 express by one minute. But Bhe said you were 
 very unhappy, and roast me if 3-011 could have made 
 her grieve more had you asked her to your funeral 
 and then hanged yourself." 
 
 '"It is true," said I, "when I wrote, that I was 
 miserable enough. You know of course that 
 Florence is to be packed off to Australia ? *' 
 
 " When you wrote you were miserable enough? 
 Aren't you so now ? " he inquired. 
 
 •' Yes," said I, " very." 
 
 " How's your appetite, Jack ? " 
 
 '* I'm quite ready for lunch," I answered. 
 
 He burst into a laugh and was about to speak, 
 but smothered up his words in a cough as the 
 waiter entered. "VYe took our seats at the table. 
 and whilst we lunched my uncle went away from 
 all reference to Florence and Australia and my 
 misery by telling me the object of his visit to 
 town : which was, I think, for I cannot clearly 
 remember, to buy some building land at Clifton, 
 and he was somewhat lively in his abuse of a 
 solicitor who had left him about ten minutes 
 before my arrival. And yet T could not help 
 taking notice that all the while he was chattering 
 he looked at me as if there was something in his 
 thoughts behind what he was saying. At last, when 
 
 vol. r. v
 
 322 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 the waiter had cleared out and left us alone, lie 
 fell into a short silence, inspecting me contempla- 
 tively, and then says he, " So, Jack, you are to 
 lose Florence ? " 
 
 " I hope not," I replied. 
 
 " But you know she's going to Australia ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That's about 12,000 miles off, isn't it?" said 
 he. 
 
 "Call it 12,000," I replied. 
 
 "A deuce of a separation, 12,000 miles," he 
 exclaimed; "and all water, mind. No railways 
 from here to Australia, my lad : and there's a 
 mighty pause between the posting of a letter and 
 the getting a reply to it." 
 
 "Don't make me utterly miserable, uncle," said I. 
 
 He eyed me with a look made up of amusement 
 and inquisitiveness. "Do you know," cried he, 
 "you don't appear half miserable enough. You're 
 like Steele's mute ; the more you get the jollier 
 you look. What will Sophie think when I tell her 
 of your appetite, and that instead of being a shadow 
 you seem to be fatter than when I last saw you ? " 
 
 " She'll think that I'm too much occupied in 
 groping about after daylight to be broken down," I 
 replied, feeling my way with him, as I imagined. 
 
 He took another long stare at me, and then 
 cocking his eye in a manner peculiar to himself, 
 he said, " I wonder what's in your mind ? I wonder
 
 A GRAND IDEA. 323 
 
 if what's there resembles what's here ? " tapping 
 his forehead. " I don't believe there's an atom of 
 blarney about your feeling for Florence, and con- 
 sequently you're a deal too comfortable and pleasant 
 in your behaviour, there's too much satisfaction 
 mixed up in your face not to give one a notion that 
 if you felt yourself up a tree yesterday when you 
 wrote your Paradise Lost of a letter to Sophie — in 
 her hand, man, it looked as long as Mahomet's al 
 Koran — you've managed somehow to slide down 
 out of it since. Am I right ? " 
 smiled, but made no answer. 
 " Jack," said he, laughing, " we have both of us 
 been sailors, and I'll lay you fifty dollars that 
 we've plumped upon the same notion.'' 
 "What is yours?" said I. 
 
 " Why." cried he, raising his hand and bringing 
 it down upon his knee, ''what could it be, man — 
 if you're in earnest, as I am sure you are — but that 
 you should accompany her to Australia ? " 
 
 In the face of this I instantly chucked all the 
 considerations which had bothered me clean 
 overboard. 
 
 ••You have hit it," I exclaimed. "'That's my 
 intention. If Florence sails for Australia I shall 
 go with her." 
 
 " Bravo !" he shouted, rolling about in his chair 
 in a kind of ecstasy. " I knew you'd do it — it's 
 the Seymour spirit — a fair grip, and old Nick may
 
 324 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 shriek for mercy. But think of the same notion 
 occurring to us both ! It came slap into me the 
 moment I heard old Hawke meant to ship his 
 daughter off. Oh, I'm wicked to enjoy it — I'm 
 wicked to enjoy it ! But, man alive ! think of 
 Alphonso's feelings when some little bird whispers 
 to him that Jack Seymour has sailed in the ship 
 that was to have carried Florence away from 
 the rogue's pursuit ! He called me no gentleman, 
 d'ye remember." And he rolled about in his chair 
 until I was afraid that he would capsize head over 
 heels. 
 
 I waited until he recovered himself, and then 
 looked at him with a grave face whilst I addressed 
 him in my soberest tone, for the project was a very 
 serious business to me, and I desired that he should 
 take the same view of it, that 1 might have the 
 benefit of his advice. 
 
 " Uncle," said I, " I think it will be best to 
 conceal my intentions from my aunt and cousins." 
 
 " Certainly," he answered ; " I would not have 
 them know it on any consideration. They have 
 concerned themselves enough in this love-bout of 
 yours, and they must not have the least suspicion 
 of your latest scheme. Hawke then may think 
 what he likes." 
 
 "Taking that view, it is a pity," said I, "that 
 you should know anything about it." 
 
 " "Well, I'm not obliged to know," he answered.
 
 A GRAND IDEA. 325 
 
 "I shan't see you off: and you may change your 
 mind at the last moment for all I am to imagine. 
 But I say, Jack, have you really and seriously 
 planned this job? " 
 
 " I have, indeed," I exclaimed with energy. " If 
 Florence is to be expatriated I'll share her banish- 
 ment : and there is not quite enough in a voyage 
 to Australia to frighten me into giving up the girl I 
 love. And besides, there are several points in my 
 favour : the Strathmore belongs to my old employ : I 
 know her skipper well ; and then the cost of my 
 keep afloat will be less than I should have to 
 spend ashore." 
 
 " But what will you do when you get to 
 Sydney ? " asked my uncle, talking as gravely as 
 I could wish. " Come home again ? " 
 
 "Not without Florence," said I : "that is, if I 
 cun make the passage out answer the purpose 
 I have in my mind." 
 
 " I'm not asking questions from any impertinent 
 motives," said he. " I don't want you to go and 
 strand yourself t'other side the world. What's the 
 sage money — do you know ? " 
 
 •• A cabin in the cuddy will cost me about sixty 
 pounds." 
 
 " One hundred and twenty pounds there and 
 back — feeding included — say ten months in all. 
 Yes," said he, "it will be a cheaper job for you 
 at sea than ashore. Nor could you live so well
 
 326 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 ashore for one hundred and twenty pounds as you 
 will as a first-class passenger. But don't forget 
 that Aunt Damaris goes with Florence — she has 
 her under her wing — and she will fight with 
 swelling feathers and distended heak if you come 
 within pistol-shot of the girl." 
 
 "Yes," said I, "but I shall have the advantage 
 of sparring with her on an element she's not used 
 to, but which has been my cradle. Besides," I 
 continued, " I don't know why there should be any 
 fighting. Perhaps my scheme may comprise an 
 alias, for if my comfort is to be insured by borrow- 
 ing a name I ought not to find it hard to fit myself 
 with a good one." 
 
 He held up his hand, laughing. " Don't tell me 
 too much ! " he exclaimed. " Keep me honest by 
 being reserved, for Heaven's sake ! But oh, man, 
 it's a fine scheme — a canny notion ! What would 
 I give to be twenty-five, with such a job on hand ?" 
 I thought, as he spoke, that I could trace in his 
 look something of the old love of devilry which, my 
 father used to say, had procured his despatch to 
 sea. If you do borrow a name," he continued, 
 "take a big one— something long and fine, with a 
 De in front of it. Nothing like a De — it's even 
 better than a Le. There's a Norman touch about 
 De that makes people think of William the Con- 
 queror. But Florence will know you?" cried he 
 suddenly. " You can't deceive her, unless you
 
 A GEAXD IDEA, 327 
 
 make up as a priest or something of that kind. 
 Do you intend that, too ? " 
 
 " No," said I, laughing. " I must take my 
 chance of Florence keeping my identit}' a secret 
 from her aunt. If she won't, why then I must 
 brave it out with Aunt Damaris and do the best I 
 can for myself." 
 
 "And the skipper you spoke of — he's an old 
 friend of yours, you say ? He'll be knowing you." 
 
 " Oh," said I, " if he's the Dan Thompson I was 
 shipmate with he'll keep my secret — he'll help 
 me; I have nothing to fear from him." 
 
 By this time, seeing how thoroughly in earnest 
 I was, he had become as grave as a judge, and the 
 kindly paternal manner I had before taken notice 
 of in him when we talked together at Clifton was 
 now very marked. He said he had been a good 
 deal surprised on hearing of Hawke's intention to 
 send Florence to Australia. It was difficult to 
 understand the motive of so extreme a step. 
 Allowing that the girl was in love with me, we 
 were surely to be kept apart without the interven- 
 tion of three oceans. But what bothered him 
 most, he said, was this : in sending Florence to 
 Australia her father would be as effectually 
 separating her from Morecombe as he hoped to 
 separate her from me. What was to be made of 
 such a policy ? Did it mean that Morecombe had 
 withdrawn in disgust, and that Aunt Damaris had
 
 328 JACK'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 prescribed a journey to the other end of the world 
 as the only safe remedy against me ? " Hang 
 me," said he, " if I could have the heart to send 
 one of my girls a-trooping in this fashion, even 
 with an aunt. How long is she to be away, d'ye 
 know ? " 
 
 I answered she had written to Sophie that she 
 might be absent two years. 
 
 " And of course she'll bring back the same 
 disposition that she took," he exclaimed. "Climate 
 doesn't change the character, and as to the ocean, 
 why the old fellow couldn't choose a worse field 
 for her — no variety, no change to occupy her, 
 to carry her old thoughts away, nothing but just 
 the sort of monotony that most forces the mind in 
 upon itself and sets it feeding upon memory as a 
 monkey munches his own tail. But all this is my 
 friend Alphonso's business, not mine ; I dare say 
 he thinks he knows what he is about, and that he 
 applauds his own cleverness. What do you mean 
 to do when you arrive at Sydney? " 
 
 " I have not troubled myself to think, and don't 
 mean to bother myself until I get there," said I. 
 
 " I reckon you'll be praying for contrary 
 winds," said he. "I wish I could invent an 
 excuse to go along with you. I am often feeling 
 as if I want to be sailing round the world. But I 
 say, Jack, you must make sure that your sweet- 
 heart sails in the Strathmore before hiring a berth.
 
 
 A GRAND IDEA. 329 
 
 You'd be the Liter bit with a vengeance, my Lad, to 
 
 jump abroad and find when you're half-way across 
 the Bay of Biscay that there is no such person as 
 Florence Hawke in the vessel." 
 
 " Never fear," I replied. " I don't know if the 
 Stmthmorc calls for passengers at Plymouth ; the 
 Portia always did. But anyhow, if Plymouth is 
 the last place she looks in to, and Miss Hawke and 
 her aunt are not aboard, you may trust me to get 
 Dan Thompson to put me ashore." 
 
 "Well, well, you know the ropes," said my 
 uncle ; " there's no use teaching you to suck eggs. 
 Your feet are heavier than your head, and you'll 
 always fall upon 'em, I calculate. 1 dare say niy 
 wife would think 1 have no right to take the 
 interest I feel in this new move of yours. It's not 
 neighbourly. As a father myself 1 oughtn't to 
 show a youngster like you any sympathy in this 
 job of dishing a parent's hopes and foisting a 
 son-in-law he objects to upon him. But 1 can't 
 help remembering. Jack, that you are my brother 
 Tom's son, and I can't help feeling that the 
 peremptory fashion in which that Australian 
 squatter has warned you off, the insolent manner 
 in which he has treated you, who are a gentleman 
 and my nephew, and who has done him no other 
 wrong than paying him the handsomest compliment 
 a man can pay a father, 1 mean hugely admiring 
 his daughter and loving her for herself onlv,
 
 330 JACK'S COUETSHIR 
 
 without a single arrier ponsy, as the French call it, 
 respecting what shell be worth in ducats ; I say I 
 can't help resenting all this as a derned insult 
 offered to the whole of us Seymours, living and 
 dead, and therefore, my lad, my best hopes 
 accompany you, and if you think any woman 
 bearing the name of Hawke worthy of so honourable 
 a title as that of Seymour, then I'm not a 
 Christian if I don't devoutly wish that when you 
 return you'll bring back Florence with you as 
 your wife ; " and looking as if this apology for 
 himself had considerably eased his mind, he shook 
 hands with me, paid the bill, and we separated. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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 List of Publications. n 
 
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 List of Publications. 13 
 
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 5. The Threshold of the Unknown Reg-ion. By C. R. Mark- 
 
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 7. Burnaby's On Horseback through Asia Minor. 10s. 67. 
 S. Schweinfurth's Heart of Africa. 2 vols., i$s. 
 
 9. Marshall's Through America. 
 10 Lansdell's Through Siberia. Illust. and unabridged, 10s. 67.
 
 1 8 Sampson Low, Marston, &> Co's 
 
 Low's Sta?idard Novels. Small post 8vo, cloth extra, 6 s. each, 
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 A Daughter of Heth. By W. Black. 
 In Silk Attire. By W. Black. 
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 The Lady Maud. By W. CLARK RUSSELL.
 
 List of Publications. 
 
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 French Heiress in her own Chateau. 
 
 Low's Handbook to the Charities of Loudon. Edited and revised 
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 small post Svo, 2s. £>d. ; cloth, gilt edges, y. 6d. 
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 20 Sampson Zo7c, Marston, 6° Co.'s 
 
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 List of Publications. 2 1 
 
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 ■ Irish Land Question, and English Question. New 
 
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 The China Collector's Pocket Companion. With up- 
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 22 Sampson Low, Marston, &* Cols 
 
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 List of Publications. 23 
 
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 Hans B r inker ; or, the Silver Skates. By Mrs. Dodce. 
 My Study Windows. By J. R. Lowell. 
 The Guardian Angel. By Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 My Summer in a Garden. By C. D. Warner.
 
 24 Sampson Low, Mars ton, 6° Co.'s 
 
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 The Lady Maud. 3 vols., crown 8vo, 31J-. 6d. New 
 
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 2nd Edition, crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Sailor's Language. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, $s. 6d.
 
 List of Publications. 2 5 
 
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 Wreck of the Grosvenor. 4to, sewed, 6d. 
 
 See also Low's Standard Novels. 
 
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 Tlie Tour of the Prince of Wales in India. By 
 
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 Shakespeare. Edited by R. Grant White. 3 vols., crown 
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 26 Sampson Low, Marston, g* Co.'s 
 
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 Sidney (Sir Philip) Arcadia. New PIdition, 6s. 
 
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 Sir Roger de Coverley. Re-imprinted from the " Spectator." 
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 Classic and Early Christian. 
 
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 Spanish and French Artists, By Gerard Smith. (Poynter's 
 
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 List of Publications. 2 7 
 
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 Heidi's Further Experiences. Illustrated, small post 
 
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 "My Kalulu? Prince, King, and Slave. With 
 
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 Coomassie and Magdala. A Story of Two British 
 
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 23 Sampson Zoic, Mars ton, 6° Co.'s 
 
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 Minister's Wooing. 
 
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 Old Toiun Fireside Stories. Cloth extra, 3^. 6d. 
 
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 We and our Neighbours. 1 vol., small post 8vo, 6s. 
 
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 Woman in Sacred History. Illustrated with 15 
 
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 Sutton (A. K.) A B C Digest of the Bankruptcy Law. 8vo, 
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 7 A INF (H. A) " Les Origines de la France Coniemporaine." 
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 Vol. 2. The French Revolution. Vol. 1 . do. 
 Vol. 3. Do. do. Vol. 2. do. 
 
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 * See also Rose Library.
 
 L is I of Publications. 2 9 
 
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 roan, 2s. 6d. 
 
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 Moses the Lawgiver. Crown Svo, "js. 6d. 
 
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 Tolhausen (Alexandre) Grand Supplement du Diction nairc 
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 Tolmer (Alexander) Reminiscences of an Adventurous and Che- 
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 Tourist Idyll \ and other Stories. 2 vols., crown 8vo, 215. 
 
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 Trials. See Browne. 
 
 Tristram (Rev. Canon) Pathways of Palestine : A Descriptive 
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 a e TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA. 
 ae HECTOR SERVADAC. 
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 af FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON, AND A TRIP 
 
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 ae MICfclAEL STROOOFF, THE COURIER OF THE CZAR. 
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 bed FIVE WEEKS IN A BALLOON. 
 
 bed ADVENTURES OF 3 ENGLISHMEN AND 3 RUSSIANS. 
 bed AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS. 
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 IrfTHE BLOCKADE RUNNERS. 
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 be 
 be 
 
 { MASTER ZACHARIUS. 
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