'He never admitted that!' said Felix, tearing open his letter. 'He is in utter dismay, asks whether I could have seen the thing, tells me to telegraph yes or no, that he may know whether to speak to Redstone. What's this about tribute to my father?'

'Here! "Once it was deemed well that the ecclesiastical staff should be by birth and character, if not by pecuniary fortune, above suspicion; but the universal application of the general screw system has warned off all who had a predilection for an unfettered tongue, and we all know what hands accompany one in chains."'

'Libellous!' cried Felix, running his eye over the article. 'It looks as if it had strayed out of the Dearport Hermes. I'd not have had this happen for ten thousand pounds! Clap-trap about fat rectors and starved curates! Jackman's writing, I'd lay any wager!'

'You don't think he did it?'

'Smith? Muddled his accounts! Nothing more likely; charges like this are not got up without some grounds of some sort; but as to intentional fraud, that's utter nonsense. Well, I'm off to the station, and I hope in half an hour's time Master Redstone will be quaking.'

Ten days of the holiday still remained; and Captain Audley, with boat and yacht, greatly added to its pleasures, which both brothers were able thoroughly to enjoy, living almost entirely out of doors, and valuing each hour as they became fewer.

This matter, however, made Felix very uneasy. He wrote to the curate, offering all the amends in his power, and undertaking that if Mr. Smith would send him an explanatory letter, he would back it up with a strong leading article; and he waited anxiously for further intelligence.

Mr. Froggatt's letter came first. Redstone, fond of dabbling in editorship, had taken reproof in great dudgeon, affecting great surprise at being blamed for inserting a letter from a respectable gentleman without submitting it to Mr. Froggatt, who had entirely dropped the editorship, or delaying it to another issue by sending it to Ewmouth. The respectable gentleman was young Jackman, who was no doubt delighted to have such a firebrand to cast. It was a great grief and annoyance to Mr. Froggatt, who had always steered clear of personalities, and been inoffensive if sometimes dull; and both assault and defence were distressing to him—i.e. if defence were possible, for he seemed doubtful whether silence would not lead to the least scandal. Even Wilmet wrote: 'Every one seems to think Mr. Smith is to blame; and he is so huffy, that it looks only too much as if he were afraid of inquiry.'

This was too true a character of his replies. That intended for the paper had not a line of real defence, but was a mere tirade on the dignity of his office, and the impudence of the charges. Felix dashed it away, enraged at its useless folly; nor was the private one more satisfactory. It was but a half acceptance of Felix's total disclaimer; and the resentful wording made it difficult to discern whether the imputation were bona fide regarded as not worth refuting, or whether indignation were made an excuse for denial instead of proof. A separate sheet seemed to have been added. 'The whole is to be subjected to the scrutiny of a parish meeting on Tuesday, when, though the minute accuracy of a professional accountant is not to be expected of one whose province is not to serve tables, it will be evident that only malignity to the Church could have devised the attack to which your paper has given currency.'

'Well,' broke out Lance, as Felix with a voice of ineffable disgust read the final sentence, 'if that is not being a knave, it is very like a long-eared animal!'

'I'll tell you what, Lance, they'll take him between their teeth, and worry him till there's not an inch left whole of him. Jackman and his pack will tear him down; and even Bruce and Jones, and our own good old Froggy, will give him up when they see his books won't balance.'

'Serve him right!' cried Lance. 'What fun to see his airs taken down, when he's served with the sauce he's so fond of for other people! I only wish they'd got my Lady too!'

'I must go home, that's all,' said Felix. 'If I got there on Wednesday, I might see if I could not get his accounts into presentable order.

'What?'

'If I don't, I am afraid no one else will.'

'He will not let you.'

'I think I can make him.'

'But such a cur as he has always been to you!'

'I don't think he will object now. I know he can't do the thing himself; and if little Bisset could, depend upon it his mother would not let him stir a finger for fear of being implicated. Now I do know the ways of those accounts. I've done them with my father and with Mr. Audley. Any way, I must be at home for the meeting. Imagine Redstone reporting it! But you can stay out the week, and come home in the yacht.'

For Captain Audley had promised to take the brothers round to Dearport, but Lance could not bear to be left behind; and it ended in their walking up to the Tudor cottage to make their excuses, when the good-natured captain declared that he could put to sea that very night and land them at Dearport in good time.

So after a hurried grateful farewell to the Staples family, the holiday closed with a voyage that both were able to enjoy to the utmost before they sailed into the harbour at Dearport, and walked up to St. Faith's. Captain Audley, who had not seen Sister Constance since her husband's death, had an access of shyness and would not encounter the 'Lady Abbess,' as he called her; but his last words to Felix were a promise that if Bernard went to Stoneborough, he would have him out now and then for a holiday with his own boy.

There had been time to send notice to Geraldine, and her brothers had hoped to have taken her home with them; but though she looked clear and bright, she was not out of the doctor's hands, and was under orders to stay another week. The sight of her brothers made her very homesick, in spite of being the spoilt child of the Sisterhood, in the pleasant matted room, with its sea view, its prints, and photographs; but then she wanted to have her way prepared with Wilmet. Her vision had been to walk in imposingly, and take them all by surprise; but that notion had vanished as the time drew nearer, and she found that her new art required practice, while the dread of making a sensation grew upon her. She was ashamed of having even thought of compensating for Wilmet's absence, and entreated Felix to communicate the fact, without a word of the presumption that had nerved her courage.

The three looked over one another, as if each had undergone much since the last meeting; but the sight of Felix greatly relieved Cherry. He was sunburnt and vigorous, and his voice had resumed its depth of quiet content, instead of having that unconsciously weary sound of patience and exertion that had often gone to her heart. Lance, whom she had not seen since Easter, had assumed a look of rapid growth; his features had lost their childish form, and were disproportionate; and his complexion still had the fitful colouring of convalescence; but his eyes were dancing, and his talk ecstatic as to Vale Leston and the Kittiwake, where he was ready, at that moment, to become a cabin-boy.

'O Cherry! Cherry! you never dreamt of anything so delicious as that night's fishing!'

'That, I will answer for, she never did,' said Felix. 'When I saw the exquisite delight it afforded, not only to this Lance but to Captain Audley, to fill the boat with slimy, flapping, uncomfortable dying fishes, I felt that I was never made for a gentleman.

'Do you mean that you didn't like it?' exclaimed Lance, turning round aghast.

'I should have been much happier balancing the books.'

'And he wasn't even sick!' said Lance, holding up his hands.

'He hadn't that excuse,' laughed Cherry. 'However, midnight fishing is not indispensable! I should like to have seen how he looked at Vale Leston.'

Lance was in great hopes that Felix would betray the possibilities, and mayhap, but for his presence, prudence might have evaporated beneath the warm breath of Cherry's sympathy; but the answer was only a discreet laugh and reply, 'Like a man who wanted his sister! I wish I could just fill your eyes with the loveliness of it, Cherry;' and in the midst of his description, in came Sister Constance, bringing with her Sister Emmeline (sister in blood as well as religion), wanting to hear about the nephews, and the Kitten's Tail adventure, and amused to find Lance a little shy about it—certainly not disposed to dwell on it with his usual unceremonious drollery of narrative. They would not let Felix go without an inspection by Dr. Lee, which was perfectly satisfactory as to the rally of the constitution from the depression that had threatened disease, though it was impressed both on him and on Cherry that he must be careful next winter, and never neglect a cold; and with this promise the brothers took the train, and in half an hour were at home—rather an empty home, for the schools were all in operation again, and Wilmet was not at liberty for some little time after their arrival.

When she did come in, she was disappointed not to find Geraldine, and that Felix had become so absorbed in the business that had brought him home, that he only sent in word that he was obliged to go into the town, and tea must not wait for him. Lance remained, but the burthen of two secrets rendered him uncommunicative, when Wilmet tried to understand the cause of Cherry's delay at St. Faith's; and Alda was curious about Vale Leston and Mrs. Fulbert, whom she had seen at Kensington Palace Gardens. It did not take much acumen to exclaim, 'Still no children! Then there must be a chance for us!'

'That is not likely,' said Wilmet: 'it must be all in their own power; and the Vicar must be quite a young man. Is he not, Lance?'

'How should I know?'

'Didn't you see him?'

'I saw his wife, and that was enough.'

'About five-and-thirty,' said Alda. 'Of course it will all go to Uncle Tom. Money always goes to money.'

'How flushed you are, Lance!' said Wilmet. 'Are you tired?'

'Rather. I am going out into the garden.'

There, however, he was pursued by Bernard with a war-whoop, and by Theodore with his concertina; and Stella presently reported that he was gone up to bed.

'And I am afraid his room is very hot and noisy,' sighed Wilmet.

'He is only tired and cross after his two nights at sea,' said Alda.

'Lance cross!'

'My dear Wilmet, it is very bad taste in families always to maintain each other's impeccability!'

Alda was still the only person capable of defeating Wilmet, and she managed to render her very uncomfortable before the end of the evening, when hours passed and still Felix did not come in; and Alda suggested, in the intervals of yawning, that Wilmet would soon learn how green it was to sit up, now that Felix had got out of leading- strings, and set up bachelor habits.

At first Wilmet was highly indignant; but when Alda persisted that she was rather glad to see Felix like other young men, and that Wilmet would know better when she was married, and then yawned herself off to bed, there was a sense of great discomfort to accompany the solitary vigil, which not only involved fancies of possible accidents, but was harassed by this assault on faith in the virtue and sincerity of man. Could it really be the part of a wise woman to wink at being deceived as an inferior creature, with impossible expectations of truth and purity? Yet Alda knew the world!

How much heart-sickness was darned into Lance's impossible heel before the clock chimed two! A step, and not a policeman's, came along the pavement and paused at the door, as, while the bell was cautiously pulled, down she flew!

'My dear Mettie, I am so sorry, so ashamed, of not having sent home to tell you; but if I had made the least move, it might have upset everything!'

'What have you been about?'

'Going over Mowbray Smith's accounts.'

'Oh!'

'I am very sorry! How tired you must be! I was vexed not to be able to give you notice, but you know what poor Smith is.'

'I don't know why you had to do it all, and at this time of night,' said Wilmet, still a little hurt.

'It is the only chance for him to-morrow at the meeting to have his accounts clear; so I called under the plea of seeing about the letter in Pur, and with much ado got him to realise a little more of his position, and let me look at the books. That was at five.'

'And you have been at it ever since? O Felix!' as he stretched his arms and gave a vast yawn.

'Ay! If I had shown any consciousness of the time, he would have shut up at once; and he would not let me take them home to do to-morrow morning.'

'It is to-morrow morning!'

'So it is! I must make haste, for I must try to see Mr. Ryder and Jones before the meeting. Good-night, dear old W. W. I meant to have had other talk.'

'But oh! you must have some supper!'

'I've had it—sumptuous! Stilton cheese!'

So Wilmet's faith in masculine nature rebounded as high as Alda had striven to sink it!

Patience was a good deal needed the next day; for Felix, had to rush away from breakfast, and never appeared at all at dinner. He had to be present at the very stormy meeting, though only to take notes, and thus had the annoyance of seeing Mr. Smith destroying his own cause by his incapacity to understand the statement so carefully drawn up, until Mr. Ryder (on whom the enemy had reckoned as a champion) took the papers out of the helpless hand, comprehended Felix's figures at a glance, and set them lucidly forth, such as they were; but even then there were blots which there were plenty of persons ready to hit. The truth was, that between Lady Price's economies, and the unwillingness to call vestry meetings, moneys intended for one purpose had been used for another, and articles not within the denomination of charities had been charged on funds raised for that exclusive object.

The assembly comprised the usual variety: the malicious foes of religion, headed by Jackman; the more numerous enemies, not of what they supposed religion, but of the Church; the adversaries, not of the Church, but of the Curate; and the few loyally unwilling to condemn a clergyman, but disgusted at the affair, and staggered by his management. Perhaps the rabid and ribald violence of the hostile party did Mr. Smith good with the respectable; and there were many, too, whose dictum was—'Felix Underwood says it is all right!' At any rate, though the Bishop was memorialised, it was in a much better spirit than had been likely at first; and it was not to be done without notice to the Rector. And when this was over, every one as usual went to the rendezvous at 'Froggatt's,' either to discuss or inquire; and the release of both partners on that summer evening was later than ever it had been before.

But then what a welcome upstairs! what a clamour of happy tongues! what an ecstatic humming of 'The Hardy Norseman!' what a clinging to and climbing on him! If he had the cares, he had much of the joys, of the goodman of the house! But presently he missed the voice usually blithest of all, and asked for Lance.

'He was here a little while ago,' said Wilmet, 'drinking his tea. He must have gone up to bed.'

'No,' said Bernard; 'I've just been up to the barrack, and he isn't there.'

'You've not let him sleep in the attic!' exclaimed Felix. 'Why, under the leads it is like an oven!'

'I am very sorry,' said Wilmet, 'but I could not see how to help it. Your room is worse, with the glare of the setting sun; and so is Cherry's at this time of the evening.'

'Then he must have Mr. Froggatt's.'

'I thought,' said Alda, 'that you never took liberties with Mr. Froggatt?'

'Nonsense!' said Felix. 'There are only two bedrooms in this house fit for that boy in his present state—yours and Mr. Froggatt's. Which shall we have, Wilmet?'

'Mr. Froggatt's,' she answered at once. 'If you will not have another cup, I'll get it ready for him at once.'

'I've just done. I'll come and help you. But where can the boy be? In the garden?'

'No,' said Wilmet, taking a survey from the window.

'I have hardly seen him all day,' added Alda. 'I suppose he has pursuits of his own.'

'Pursuits!' said Felix, looking really anxious; 'poor little chap, he can't do without constant care and quiet!'

Wilmet made no answer, but rose and left the room; Alda muttered something about his looking quite well, which Felix did not stay to hear, following his sister out with a word about looking for him. At the same moment a little soft hand was thrust into his, and Stella, as soon as the door was shut, said, 'Please, I know where Lance is, but it's a secret.'

'Not from me, I hope?' said Felix, catching her up in his arms.

'I think not,' said Stella meditatively. 'He only told me not to let Bear and Tedo know, because they make a row. He is only up over the back warehouse, where he used to play the fiddle to us last Easter.'

'The only cool quiet place he could find!' said Felix, with more of a look of reproach than he had ever given Wilmet.

It went to her heart. 'I did not know what to do,' she said meekly. 'I wanted very much to go into the barrack ourselves, but Alda said it would kill her, and you know it has always been a sore subject that we would not let her have Mr. Froggatt's room. I ought not to have given way.'

'Alda's selfishness is a great power,' muttered Felix; and Wilmet was too much ashamed to contradict him, except by 'She is vexed because she has not heard from Ferdinand,' as they hastily made their way to the warehouse, which, being on the north side of higher buildings, never did get scorched through.

Felix went up a step-ladder, Wilmet following; and there, sure enough, was Lance, lying in a nest of paper shavings, with head on his air-pillow. 'Oh, you've unearthed me, have you? I wish you'd let me stay here all night!' he said, with some weary fretfulness; but the next moment burst into a peal of laughter, as Wilmet's head appeared above the floor. 'Pallas Athene ascends! Oh! what a place it would be to act a play—only then all the fry would find it out! I hope they haven't! I told the Star not to tell!'

'My poor dear Lance, is this the only quiet place you could find? and you let us all neglect you, and never complained!' exclaimed Wilmet, kissing his hot forehead.

'Why, it's only my stupidity,' said Lance, wearily but gratefully; 'and you can't make places quiet or cool! If you would just let me sleep here!'

'No; but you shall have Mr. Froggatt's room. He will not want it now. Come along, Lance, we'll bring your things down. The barrack is a great deal too hot for you to go into!'

He did not make any resistance; but as they landed from the ladder, threw his arm round Wilmet, and leant against her with a sort of lazy mischievous tenderness, as he said, 'Isn't the Froggery wanted for— somebody else?' and tried to look up in her face.

'Ferdinand always goes to the Fortinbras Arms,' answered Wilmet, with admirable composure.

'Oh! that's a precedent,' said Lance, ostentatiously winking at Felix, who was very glad the ice was broken. 'When is he coming, Mettie?'

'I think Alda hoped he might have run down to-night, on hearing of your return.'

There they paused while entering the house and going upstairs, but no sooner were they in the barrack, which was certainly insufferably hot, than Lance returned to the charge.

'But when is he coming? Not Fernan—he's an old story.'

'Yes, said Felix, walking up to Wilmet to fold together the corners of the sheets they were stripping from Lance's bed, and looking into her eyes so archly as to bring up an incarnadine blush, 'I want particularly to improve my acquaintance, if you don't.—What shall we do, Lance?'

'Advertise in Pur,' suggested Lance. 'The editor returned. Young men may apply!'

'Don't, boys!' exclaimed Wilmet, in tones belonging to bygone days, when neither she nor Felix had been too serious to tease or be teased. 'He is much better than you,' she added, with a pretty confused petulance, when Felix put on a pleading inquisitive face. 'When he found we didn't like it he went away to visit his uncle.'

'Better than we! There, Lance!' said Felix, in a gratified provoking tone of discovery.

'In one sense,' said Wilmet, walking down before him.

'I am very glad you have found it out,' added Felix, as they entered Mr. Froggatt's cool well-blinded bedroom, the only well-furnished one in the house.

'It is no laughing matter,' said Wilmet seriously.

'That's well,' was the dry answer.

But there Felix perceived that she was on the verge of tears, and he kindly and quietly helped her to despatch her arrangements for Lance before any more was said; only as they turned to bid the tired boy goodnight, he said, 'Where does the uncle live? I shall telegraph to- morrow, you cruel person!'

'Hush! silly boy—goodnight,' said Wilmet, with a quivering voice, then, as she shut the door, 'Please don't go on this way, Felix—I wouldn't have had it happen for any consideration.'

'I suppose not,' said Felix, as they returned to the twilight garden; but as it has—Why, my Mettie, dear!' as she pressed close to him, and hid her face on his shoulder, with a strong craving for the help and sympathy from which the motherless girl had hitherto been debarred.

'O Felix! I wish he would not be so good and kind! I wish you would not try to make me give in!'

'My dear girl,' said Felix, with his arm round her. 'You know I would not if I did not see that you had given in.'

'No, I haven't!' she cried. 'Why should you want to persuade me? Isn't it very cruel and hard to let him give all himself to one that can't come to him? He will have to go out and live all dreary and lonely for years and years, and come home to find nothing but a stupid old worn-out drudge, with all these pretty looks gone off! Felix, be reasonable, please! Can't you see that I ought not to let things go that way?'

'Do you mean,' said Felix, 'that you would be quite content to put an end to all this—let Harewood go away believing you indifferent, and never see him again?'

'Felix, why do you—?' with tears in her eyes.

'Because I am quite sure that the consideration you want to show him would be no kindness. The pain of having his affection thrown over' (he spoke with a spasm in the throat) 'would be greater than you would like to inflict, if you were forced by truth to own you did not care for him; and if he be what I think, the carrying away security of your feeling for him will be gladness enough. And as for the looks, I have a better opinion of yours than to think they won't wear! Any way, dearest, it seems to me that you have won the heart of a good man, and that if you like him, it is your duty to give him the comfort of knowing it without thinking about to-morrows.'

'But I know so much more would come if I did just allow that much! And I might get to wish to leave you all,' she said in an appalled voice. 'And there seems to me not the slightest chance. You see Alda and Cherry never will get on together; and Cherry seems glad of an excuse to stay from home. I thought she would have cared to come back when you did.'

'Poor Cherry!' said Felix, hesitating, with a little of her own nervous awe of broaching the subject.

'You don't mean that there is anything seriously amiss!' she cried, startled.

'Wilmet, do you remember what Rugg said would be the very best thing for that poor child?'

She stood still, dismayed and angered. 'They aren't tormenting the poor little thing about that?'

'It is not their doing,'

'It can't have become necessary! Sister Constance would have told me! Felix say she is not worse!'

'No, much better. But, Wilmet, what we could not bear to think of, she thought of for herself, and begged to have it done.'

'Then I must go to her.'

'There is no occasion. She knew you could not be spared. It was done on the 10th, and she will soon walk better than she has done all these years.'

'Done! without our knowledge?'

'She wished to spare us all, but that was not allowed. I was written to, and told that her strong desire was such a favourable condition, that I had better consent, so as not to protract the strain of spirits. She made a point of no one else knowing except Clement.'

'Ah!' Wilmet spoke as if under a weight, 'that was the day Clement went down to Dearport, and came home so late! How could Sister Constance consent not to tell me?'

'You must forgive her, for it was the little one's desire! Of course we should have been fetched if anything had gone wrong; but she has done perfectly well; and there she is, very happy, and so full of fun, that the Sisters say she keeps them all alive.'

'Done? I cannot fancy it!' said Wilmet. 'Do you know, I believe it has been my bugbear for years past to think I might have to persuade her to this?'

'To tell you the truth, so it has to me.'

'Little nervous timid thing, I can't even understand her thinking of it!'

'She wanted me not to tell you, but I would not promise. She could not rest without trying not to be an obstacle to—'

Wilmet interrupted with a cry of pain.

'Isn't it a noble little thing?'

'But it is so silly!' broke out Wilmet, not choosing her words amid her tears.

'So she thinks now, poor child; she is quite ashamed of the presumptuous notion that did brace and carry her through.'

'I don't like her to be disappointed,' said Wilmet; 'but it is quite ridiculous.'

'Only comfort her a little, Mettie dear, for she is very much afraid you will think she has taken a great liberty with your property.'

'I only wish I could kiss her this moment.'

'Well, run down by the train to-morrow. They would all be delighted.'

'No, no, Felix, impossible. Think of the cost!'

'Half a crown! Sinful waste!' said Felix, in a tone of alarming levity.

'Felix, if you only knew what the housekeeping mounted up in that unhappy month that I was away! I did not like to tell you before, but—'

'Well!' at the dreadful pause.

'I had to get fifteen pounds from Mr. Froggatt's; and Alda finds, after all, that she cannot advance the money for Lance's journey.'

'So you are pinching it out by pence, my poor W. W.!'

'Nothing extra must be done till this is made up.'

'Yet it seems needful that Bernard should go to school. I wrote about—'

'No,' she resolutely interrupted. 'Bernard must wait over this year. Thirty pounds. Utterly out of the question!'

'Her tone gave Felix an unusual sense of chill penury, and brought Vale Leston before his eyes. He laughed rather bitterly, saying, 'Perhaps some day neither thirty pence nor thirty pounds may have so direful a sound!'

'I never mean to learn to waste.'

'You may have to learn to spend.'

'That's enough to set me against it!' she exclaimed, with a good deal of pain; and he found how nearly he had broken his resolution, and how her application of his words to herself had saved him. He followed the lead.

'Nay; you were glad of Alda's prosperity?'

'Oh yes; but poor Alda has been hindered from being like one of us,' she said. 'We have fought it out together. And I should not mind so much if he were poor like us, and had to wait on his own account.'

'I appreciate that,' said Felix; 'but at least you will let the poor fellow come and judge for himself?'

'If—if only, Felix, you will promise not to try to tempt me into deserting you all, when I know it would be wrong.'

'If I will promise you not to cut my own throat, eh? Come, W. W., put out of your head "what it may lead to," confess that you are afraid of getting connected with such a mad harum-scarum set!'

'It isn't,' broke out Wilmet. 'I never saw any one so thoughtful and considerate. They are all so kind and warm-hearted, that I grew quite ashamed of my own fidgetiness; and he—he always knew the right thing at the right time. You can't think how his look seemed to hold me up, when poor Lance was moaning and talking nonsense!'

Having thus let herself out as she had never dared, nor indeed been tempted to do, since the first dawn of the courtship, Wilmet at last relieved herself of some of the vast sense of emotion that she had been forcing back for the last month. Hitherto the mistress of the house had seemed older than the master; but now the elder brother took the place of both parents—ay, and of sister—as, all her fencing over, she poured out her heart, and let him sympathise, cheer, soothe, and encourage, more by kind tones than actual words. The harvest-moon shone over the house-tops, as a month before she had shone by the river-side; and the Pillars of the House walked up and down till Alda grew desperate, and sallied out to tell them that it was past eleven.

It was only such snatches of time that Felix could give to home affairs, for his hands were full of arrears of business, and the excitement respecting Mr. Smith necessarily occupied him. Pending the arrival of letters from the Rector, every tongue was in commotion, and the reading-room was a focus of debate and centre of intelligence. So many letters, either in assault or defence, were addressed to the editor of the Pursuivant, that only a supplement as big as the Times could have contained them. Every poor person who had not had every demand supplied from the charities was running about, adding to the grievance at every encounter with tender-hearted lady or justice-loving gentleman, whose blood boiled over into a letter for the Pursuivant, which, when sifted and refused, was transferred to the Dearport Hermes, or Erms, as most of its supporters termed it.



CHAPTER XXII

THE REAL THING AND NO MISTAKE



'With asses all his time he spent, Their club's perpetual president, He caught their manners, looks, and airs— An ass in everything but ears.' GAY.

The master of the house was unable to contribute much more than his name to the propriety of the arrival of the suitors, and this made Wilmet the more determined that Geraldine should precede them. Nor, since the half-crown must be disbursed on an escort for her, did the housewifely conscience object to the expedition, for Wilmet could not but long to thank the Superior and Sister Constance, and to obtain Dr. Lee's advice as to future management. Her coming was great joy to Cherry, who had dreaded the meeting almost with a sense of guilt, though still hoping Felix had been silent on her motive; and Wilmet did not betray him, but only treated her sister with a mixture of almost shy tenderness and reverence. Nor did Cherry dare to ask a question as to Wilmet's own affairs, nor even about Ferdinand Travis, lest she should seem to be leading in that direction. However, Wilmet, in a persuasive tone, communicated that Ferdinand had been long without writing, and though Cherry tried to be sorry for Alda, her spirit quailed at the state of temper her sister evidently meant to prepare her for.

But fate was more kind than she expected. That very Saturday brought both gentlemen, and by the same train. They made each other out as they were leaving their bags at the Fortinbras Arms, and arrived together in marked contrast—the tall, dark, regular-featured, soft- eyed Life-guardsman, and the little sandy, freckled, sun-dried engineer; and thus two courtships had to be carried on in the two rooms, only supplemented by the narrow parallelogram of a garden! For Ferdinand Travis was back again, rather amused at the family astonishment at the rapidity of his journey to America, which to his Transatlantic notions of travel was as nothing, and indeed had been chiefly performed in a big steamer, where he could smoke to his heart's content.

For the first few days there was a good deal of restraint: Wilmet was more shy than in the unconscious days of Bexley, while John Harewood was devoid of his family's assurance and bonhomie, and so thoroughly modest and diffident as to risk nothing by precipitation in begging for a decision. Felix, inexperienced, and strongly sensible of his office as guardian of his sister's dignity, would not hint at the result of his investigations into Wilmet's sentiments; and it was to Geraldine that Captain Harewood's attentions were chiefly paid. Knowing Alda's resolute monopoly of her Cacique, Cherry at first held back, and restrained her keen enjoyment of real conversation; but she found Wilmet thankful to have the talk done for her, and content to sit at work, listening almost in silence, but proud that her Captain should be interested in her sister, and pleased to see Cherry's expressive face flash and sparkle all over for him. While Wilmet was at Miss Pearson's, Cherry was his chief resource; they read, drew, and talked, and in that half-hour's out- of-door exercise, which Dr. Lee had so strongly enjoined, his arm was at her service. They were soon on the borders of confidence, though never quite plunging over them. Perhaps the broad open-mouthed raillery at his home made the gentle reticence of the Underwoods the more agreeable to him; at any rate, he did not try to break through it, nor to presume beyond the step he had gained. Alda, who could best perhaps have acted as helper, had her own affairs to attend to; and they were evidently unsatisfactory, for Ferdinand was more than ever the silent melancholy Don, and she was to domestic eyes visibly cross, and her half-year at home had rendered her much less capable of concealing ill-humour. Something was owing to wear and suspense, together with the effects of the summer heat and confined monotonous life without change or luxury; but much was chargeable on the manifestations of temper to which she had given way in the home circle. She told Wilmet the trouble, which Ferdinand wished to have kept from open discussion till he had received a final statement of his means to lay before Felix. He had received no remittances since the spring, and on demanding his own share of the capital and investments, had found it, instead of the lion's, a ridiculously small portion. The whole fortunes of the house of Travis had been built on his mother's inheritance; but the accounts laid before him represented all the unprosperous speculations undertaken by his father, William, while the small ventures of his Uncle Alfred had, alongside of them, swelled into the huge wealth of which Ferdinand had been bred to believe himself the heir! So palpably outrageous was this representation, that he had persuaded himself that personal investigation on the spot would clear it up, or perhaps more truly his blood was up, and he could not bear to be inactive. He had rushed over to New York, and of course he had been baffled. Exposure was of no use where sympathy was for the lucky rather than the duped and luckless, and where the Anglicised Life-guardsman could expect it least of all—at a time, too, when all business affairs were convulsed by the uncertainties of civil war. Alda could not believe at first that he had done his utmost, and seemed to have reproached him with weakness and mismanagement; but by her own account she had roused the innate lion. He would not tell her what had passed in the interview with his uncle, but he had shuddered over the remembrance; and when she upbraided him with not having gone far enough, he terrified her by the fierceness with which he had turned upon her, bidding her never recur to what she knew nothing about, and muttering to himself, 'Far enough—thank God I went no further, or I should not be here now!' and then falling into deep gloom. He had certainly made Alda afraid of him, and she burst into tears as she told Wilmet, declaring herself the most miserable girl in the world.

'No, that you can't be, Alda, while he is so good and true.'

'But he says he must sell out! Think of that! Never was anybody so taken in as I have been!'

'Don't talk so, Alda. It is just as if you had engaged yourself to a Life-guardsman and nothing else.'

'I wonder how you would like to be buried in some horrid wild place in America, where you would never see anybody!'

'One would not want to see anybody but him.'

'That's your nonsense! How tired of it one would be!'

'There would be no time. It would be so nice to do everything for him oneself!'

'In some horrid uncivilised place, with no servants! I'm not going to be a drudge. It is all very well for you, who like it, and have no notion of society, but for me—! And there he is furious to take me out. Men grow so wild and rough too in such places. You never saw anything blaze like his eyes!'

'I don't understand you. Could not you trust yourself anywhere with him?'

'You have no right to say such things,' pouted Alda, 'only because I have a little common prudence. Some one must have it!'

There was no denying that life in the far west would be a foolish thing either for or with Alda; and Felix thought so when Ferdinand came to him for consultation over the letters that made it finally clear that Alfred Travis had appropriated everything available but half a block of unreclaimed land on the wrong side of America, and a few thousands invested in Peter Brown's firm; and what was worse, the sudden failure of the supplies had occasioned serious debts. Ferdinand's own plan was to clear these off with the price of his commission, and take Alda out with him to rule in American luxury over the unbounded resources of the magnificent land, the very name and scent of which had awakened in him his old prairie-land instincts, and her absolute refusal and even alarm at his enjoyment had greatly mortified him. 'She should not even have to rough it,' he said. 'I could make her like a queen out there, if she would only believe it.'

Felix could not but think Alda might be wise, though it was not pretty wisdom. Go out alone and make the fortune! Ferdinand did not seem to think the separation possible. He said he would rather go to work in Peter Brown's office, where he had already a hold; and his familiarity with Spanish would secure him usefulness and promotion, and five or six years would bring them into a position to marry. He did not look fit for desk-work in London, but his mind was made up to any privation, so that he could be in reach of Alda, and hope to give her what he had once thought easily within his grasp.

Hearing this, Felix propounded an old longing of his—namely, to make the Pursuivant a daily paper, and use means for promptitude of intelligence, such as might neutralise the unpopularity it was incurring on behalf of Mr. Smith. Rumours of a rival paper were afloat; but if Ferdinand would throw in his capital, and undertake the joint editorship and proprietorship, the hold that the Pursuivant already had warranted quite success enough to permit an immediate marriage. There would be no need to be concerned with the shop; they might take a cottage in the country, and he need not ride in so often as every day. In fact, it was his capital rather than his personal assistance that was wanted. He caught at the notion. He was too Transatlantic to have any dignities to stand upon, and he said almost with tears in his eyes that he could never be so happy as in working with Felix; and he went off to the Fortinbras Arms, only lamenting that it was too late to tell Alda; while Felix, on his side, could not help knocking at Geraldine's door. Within he found another auditor, Wilmet, who still always helped Cherry to bed. 'It will be the making of the Pursuivant,' he said. How often I have sighed, "If I had but capital, or Mr. Froggatt enterprise!"'

'Ah, Felicissimo mio, that Pursuivant is as dear to you as any brother or sister of us all!'

'So it ought to be, for it has been the making of us.—Come Cherry, confess that you had rather see Pur triumph, than—'

'Than you at Vale Leston,' said Cherry, not knowing what a bolt she shot. 'It would be grand to steal a march on the enemy!'

'And safe?' asked Wilmet.

Felix demonstrated to the comprehending ears of his sisters the circulation that he could securely reckon upon.

'There would be an immense deal more to do,' said Cherry; but at that he smiled, full of vigour.

'True; but we should have a larger staff. There would be Fernan—'

'For the racing articles,' said Cherry dryly.

'And a good deal besides, which only needs application; and that he has.'

'He has great resolution,' said Cherry, 'but he always seems to me a sort of Christian panther of the wilderness; and you seem to be getting him into a cage.'

'Not such a cage as Peter Brown's office; and besides it is only when he is lashed up that the panther leaps about his den. Generally he is a quiet determined animal, with the practical Yankee element strong in him. It may be true, as Edgar says, that he does not see an inch on either side of his nose, but that only makes him go right away in the line he does see. I know he will work well.'

'If Alda—' said Cherry.

'Oh, she will be willing. A cottage in the country! Besides, it is the only reasonable possibility.'

'I should think it would satisfy her,' said Wilmet.

'And then—'

Everybody understood that 'And then.' It was Alda's pretension to be at the head of the family that was the chief obstacle to Wilmet's abdicating that post. Without her, Geraldine, stronger and less lame, might undertake the charge of the comparatively few permanently at home. Might indeed hardly expressed the amount of uncertainty as to her capability; and yet but for that 'And then,' Wilmet would hardly have yielded as she did the next day.

Stella had a blackberry fever. Possibly Wilmet's frugal regimen engendered a hankering for fruit, or it might have been the mere love of enterprise that rendered her eagerly desirous of an expedition to a lane where splendid blackberries were reported to grow. Since the day she bad been lost, she had never been allowed to go out with Bernard; but in Lance she had acquired a much more complaisant playfellow, who not only promised his escort to the lane, but the purchase of the sugar, and aid in the concoction of the jam; but he durst not venture till late in the day, and thereupon John Harewood suggested, 'Would not your sister be at liberty by that time?'

'Lance can take care of me,' said Stella; but in her eyes the whole romance of the expedition was destroyed by his acquiescence. 'We'll catch her as she comes out, and make her go with us.'

'Among all the girls?' laughed Cherry; and Captain Harewood coloured, shook his head, and shuddered.

'The girls won't hurt me,' said Lance, 'not if there were twenty hundred. I'll bring her from the very teeth of them. Jack may wait round the corner if he likes.'

The party waited till their patience was worn to a thread for the opening of the tall olive door, until Lance valiantly resolved on a single-handed assault, and had just mounted the steps when it suddenly opened, and he found himself obstructing the path of a swarm of little girls and big, who all stared, most giggled, and some greeted him. To the least of these he confided that he wanted his sister, when she innocently piloted him to the school-room, where Wilmet, with her hat on, was keeping guard over three victims detained by unfinished tasks. Every one gazed at him as if he had been a sort of Actaeon; but nothing daunted, he answered his sister's anxious exclamation. 'Nothing is the matter; but we are going for a walk, and want you.—Miss Maria,' he cried, as the sound of the unfeminine step and voice brought in one of the heads, 'please do let off these impositions, we do so want her!'

'What, you here! This is an invasion!' she added good-humouredly. 'Am I to take it as a convalescent's privilege?'

'Thank you, Ma'am,' said Lance, bowing with his audacious sweetness; 'and please let me have Wilmet. I'd do the impositions myself, only I don't know French.'

The victims tittered uncontrollably, and Miss Maria laughed, as one who, like her neighbours, descried why Wilmet was in request. 'I will attend to these exercises, Miss Underwood,' she said. 'You must not lose this fine evening for the idleness of these young ladies.'

'Indeed, Ma'am!' began Wilmet, in a blaze of colour. 'I never thought of such a thing.'

'I daresay not, my dear,' said Miss Maria; 'but now you had better do it. I wish you a pleasant walk.'

'Lance, how could you?' broke out Wilmet, as they descended the steps. 'I never was so ashamed in my life.'

'Never mind. We are going to get blackberries at Mile End Lane, and I shall lose Stella to a dead certainty if you don't come and look after her.'

'My dear Lance, I can't go all that way without their knowing it at home.'

'Oh! that's all settled with Cherry.'

'And where's Alda?'

'Off somewhere with her Don. Come, W. W., or who knows whether Stel and I shall ever come home?'

By this time they had reached the corner where Captain Harewood and Stella were lying perdu, and Wilmet made no more resistance, only keeping the little girl's not altogether willing hand till they came to the stile leading to the field and woodland, and then Stella's durance ended, and her adventures with Lance became as free as though no grave 'sister' had been near.

Perhaps, since Wilmet had perceived that surrender was her fate, she was willing that the summons should be over and a mutual understanding reached, so as to waste no more of the time already so short. However that might be, though the talk began with Lance's health and Cherry's talents, there was a tendency towards topics closer still; nor did she start aside, but rather listened pensively as to a strain that touched her quiet soul more deeply than she showed in word or gesture.

The blackberry lane was deep and hollow, the brambles outstretching their arching wreaths, laden with heavy clusters of shining fruit, glossy black, scarlet, or green, sometimes with a lingering pearly flower. A step-ladder stile led down into it from the field, and on the topmost step, her back against the rail, sat Wilmet. On the lowest, turned at right angles to the first, was John Harewood, looking up to her; while scrambling on the bank, contending with the brambles, were the younger ones; Lance, unable to help now and then sending a furtive glance through the tangle.

It was a pretty sight. Sitting aloft, Wilmet was framed by an archway of meeting branches, with nothing but the pale opal of the evening sky behind the beautifully-shaped head and shoulders, and the clear- cut features, drooping just enough to enhance her own peculiar modest dignity, and give it a soft graciousness that had once been wanting. Her dress was the same in which Captain Harewood had first seen her— a plain black hat, a pale fawn-coloured skirt, and a loose open jacket over a white cambric vest and sleeves, only that now there had been a budding forth of dainty fresh knots of rose-coloured ribbon at the throat and down the front, as though a slight sensibility to the vanities as well as the cares of life had begun to dawn on the grave young house-mother.

Leaning back against the rough rail to assist the hand of the climber, John Harewood looked up with as much worship in his countenance as ever good man feels for the being he loves in all her maiden glory. Thus they had been for some moments, only broken by the children's distant calls, till the fervent words broke from him, 'May I not speak now?'

No word of reply sounded, but the delicate lips quivered and parted; the eyes were cast down, and seemed to swim in a soft mist of brightness; the queenly head bent, and the roseate tint on the cheek deepened and spread, while something came over the face that caused the low glad exclamation, 'You sweetest, I do believe you can love me!'

A tremulous smile, a glitter of tears on the eye-lashes—a whisper, 'You won't let me be able to help it!'

Then the hands were clasped, and no words but 'Thank you' would come to the young man's lips ; and then, and the sound reminded him, he bowed his head, adding, 'Thank God!'

'Thank God!' echoed Wilmet softly. 'For indeed,' she added, as she let her eyes fully meet his ardent gaze, 'I know you will help me to do whatever may be His Will.

'He helping me,' said John Harewood; and there was a reverent silence of untold peace and bliss, first interrupted by his long sigh of infinite relief and joy, and then, as he looked and looked with all his soul in his eyes, an exclamation, almost in spite of himself, 'You beautiful creature, you are mine indeed!'

Her colour deepened, but her lips moved into an odd little smile, out of which came the words, 'Isn't that rather foolish?'

'I couldn't help it—I beg your pardon,' said he, reddening. 'You do look so lovely! but indeed it is not the externals only, but what looks through.'

'And that is what makes me afraid,' said Wilmet, as the dew gathered on her eye-lashes. 'I don't think I'm so nice as you take me for.'

'Probably you don't,' he said, smiling.

'But just hear me,' she said, laying her hand on his, as if to silence him. 'You ought to know what all the others would tell you if they were not too kind. I know they all feel me strict, and managing and domineering! Yes, it makes you laugh, but I really am. I don't think you would have liked me at all if you had not seen me out of my usual life, with only Lance—' and as all she said only made him press her hand the closer— 'You see, I've always had to do things. Ever since I was a little girl I have had to keep order, great boys and all, and I know it has made me disagreeable;' then in answer to some sound more incredulously negative than words, 'Yes indeed! Felix and all go to Cherry with whatever comes very near them. She hasn't been hardened and sharpened and dried like me, and wasn't stupid to begin with.'

'Cherry is very clever, but she is—not—'

'Now don't. I know how it is. I know I'm horribly pretty, and I've been a wonder always for keeping the house going, and doing for them all, and so you fancy me everything charming, but I do so wish you could really know, as my brothers do, how it takes out of one all that is nice and sweet, and that people like.'

'People?' said John, smiling; but seeing that a mirthful even though a loving answer was not what she wanted, he gravely said, 'I do understand, dearest, that you have had to be too much of an authority to be altogether the companion and confidante that Geraldine is free to be, but perhaps I feel that this renders you more wholly and altogether my own.'

'Oh?'—a strange half sob—'do you know, I had just begun to know how solitary I was when Lance was so happy to get Robina, when you—'

'And if I told you all, you would know that I was feeling a certain loneliness at home, and that if you had asked my sisters they would have said that Jack was not the harmonious element he appeared. There—there's a pleasing prospect!'

'But you'll not let me be masterful?' said Wilmet earnestly.

'Just as much as is good for me—for us,' he said smiling.

Then after a moment's silence, he took out of his pocket a little box, and making a table of her lap, took out a ring of twined ruby and diamonds, such as could not but startle the instincts of Wilmet's soul.

'Oh, it is a great deal too beautiful! Please, I couldn't—'

'You must. It was my mother's.'

'Then she cannot like to part with it.'

'Did you not know that she died when I was five years old? Look!' and he showed where within the lid of the box was written, 'For my Little Johnny's Wife. August 1839. L. H.'

'Ought you not to keep it till—' faltered Wilmet, growing crimson as she found what she was saying.

'No,' he said decidedly, 'not after this. When I spoke to my father that Sunday evening, he unlocked his desk and gave me this, which I had not seen since I remember playing with it on my mother's bed. You will wear it, dearest. You will let me have the pleasure of knowing you have it on.'

The answer was the drawing off of her glove, and he fitted it on, but it was rather loose. 'I am afraid it will want a guard,' he said.

'I'll ask Felix whether I may take one of Mamma's,' she said.

For the shapely notable fingers had never worn a ring before this almost sacred pledge; and the few jewels either too valuable or not valuable enough for the parents to have parted with in times of need had never been touched.

'Do,' he said; 'I shall like that. The year 1839. Was not that the year a certain little girl was born?'

'The month. Our birthday is on the 19th.' And the coincidence gave all the foolish delight such facts do under the circumstances.

'Was this long before she died?' asked Wilmet.

'The last day of that August. You never saw her brass in the cloister?'

'No; I never guessed that you were not Mrs. Harewood's son, though I wondered at your being so unlike the rest.'

'She has been kindness itself,' he warmly said. 'My father did well both for himself and me in marrying.'

'Tell me of your own mother,' said Wilmet, looking from the sparkling stones to the initials. 'L.— What was her name?'

'Lucy. Lucy Oglandby. My father was tutor at Oglandby Hall. There was a long attachment, through much opposition; and even when he was made priest-vicar after waiting six years, her father could not consent. After six years more, when her health was failing, he gave a sort of sanction on his death-bed. The rest of the family contrived to get her fortune so tied up that after her death it was of no use to any one till I came of age. She only lived seven years after her marriage, and then the Oglandbys wanted to take possession of me, and I fancy that drove my father into marrying.'

'Was it with them you went to stay?'

'Yes, my father makes a point of it; and they have a turn for patronising me, if I would turn my back on home.'

'Now I understand better,' said Wilmet.

You understand how much you were wanting to me,' he said, rightly interpreting the words. 'After five years' absence, while my sisters were growing up, you can perceive that dear, fond, and hearty as our house is, it did not fulfil all that perhaps I had been rather unreasonable in expecting. O Wilmet, this time of leave would have been very different if you had not come to the precincts!'

And so they fell back on the exquisite time present, which neither wished to disturb by looking beyond; and perhaps John felt as though his bird had scarcely perched, and any endeavours to hold it might make it flutter loose, while she was too glad of the calm and repose to renew the struggle between conflicting claims.

At last, with basket laden with dark fruit, and lips vying with the babes in the wood, Stella was launched on them by Lance, when his sense of time overpowered his half shy, half diverted respect for their bliss. He was very curious, but had to be satisfied with Captain Harewood's manner of tossing Stella over the style, and bright look at himself.

They did not get into the town till the chimes of half-past seven were pealing. Captain Harewood hurried into the hotel, to prepare for the evening; and Wilmet was mounting the stairs, still under the spell of her newly-found joy, when she was startled by Alda's voice in a key of querulous anger.

'Exactly like you, always laying out for attention.'

'What's this?' said Wilmet, as she saw Alda in her habit, standing with her back to the open door, and Geraldine leaning on the table, trembling and tearful, crimson and burning even to passion in her panting reply, 'I don't know—except that he helped me in from the garden.'

'That's what I say,' retorted Alda. 'She is always putting herself forward to be interesting and get waited on. All affectation. I don't know such a flirt anywhere.'

'Hush, Alda! you are insulting Cherry,' said Wilmet, in her tone of command.

'Take care of yourself, Wilmet,' cried Alda; 'it is the way she goes on all day with Captain Harewood—reading poetry, and drawing, and all.'

'Captain Harewood knows,' said Wilmet, coming to the support of the quivering Geraldine, 'that the kinder he is to Cherry the better I like it.'

'Oh, if you do, it is your own concern. I only spoke for your sake. And Alda marched off, while Wilmet's strong tender arms helped Cherry into her own room, and tended her through one of those gusts, part repentant, part hysterical, which had belonged to her earlier girlhood, though the present was now enhanced by the tumult of insulted maidenliness. Formerly, Wilmet had not treated these attacks on the soft system, but now all her bracing severity was gone. Greatly incensed with Alda, she gave her whole self to sympathy with the victim, showing herself so ineffably sweet and loving, that Cherry felt a thrill of delicious surprise; and as her eye lit on the glittering ring, a little ecstatic cry, still slightly hysterical, welcomed the token.

'O Wilmet, oh! You have! You have—'

'To be sure I have,' answered Wilmet, not in the lest heeding what she said in her anxiety to calm her sister. 'It is all right, if only you will not go and be silly about it.'

The woman was so much more than her words, that their odd simplicity, coming from the grand-looking figure bending over her in tender solicitude, touched Cherry the more, and she threw her arms round her sister's neck, whispering, 'Oh! I am so glad!'

Poor Wilmet! At that moment all her gladness had gone into a weight like lead on her heart, though it only made her more gentle. 'Dear Cherry,' she softly said, 'don't talk of anything to upset you. Will you be good and lie quite still while I take off my things, and then I'll come and dress you? You must not be knocked up to-night.'

'Oh! I had much rather stay here!'

'No indeed! John would be so disappointed. He does like you so much, and I always depend on you to make it pleasant for him. You can't send word that Alda has been scolding you.'

'Oh dear! why can't I behave decently to her the moment we are alone together?'

'Don't begin on that, for pity's sake, or you'll get crying again,' broke out Wilmet, in her natural voice. ''Tis she can't behave properly to anybody—that's all; so don't think any more about anything, like a good child, but lie still till I come back.'

So up went Wilmet, not rejoicing in her room-mate, whom she found, as usual, all injured innocence and self-justification.

'You have been petting Cherry all this time! She is quite spoilt among you! It is quite true what I said, though she didn't like it. In society, I never saw a more arrant flirt, with her pathetic ill- used airs. Why, Ferdinand actually found fault to-day with my manner to her!'

Save for the effects, Wilmet was glad to hear it. 'Well, Alda, it is not always kind.'

'I only don't fuss and coax her; I see through her better than you do. She is the sharp one. As I told Ferdinand, it is I who have reason to complain of his manner to her, only I know it is not his fault. If there were no other objection to this preposterous scheme of Felix's, she would be a reason against it.'

'For shame, Alda! You don't consider what you are saying of your sister.'

'I do!' said Alda. 'I have been more in the world than you, Wilmet, and I know what comes of sticking oneself down close to one's family, especially when there is that sort of spoilt invalid, backed up in all kinds of unreasonable expectations. I advise you to take care, Wilmet; you don't know what goes on in your absence. I should not wonder if it never came to an engagement after all.'

At that moment Felix's step and knock were at the door. Wilmet went to it, and both her hands were clasped in her brother's. 'My Wilmet, my dear, this is well!'

Then Alda turned from her glass and understood. 'What? He has spoken? O Wilmet, and you never told me!'

'I had not time.'

'And what a splendid ring! but it is not a proper engaged-ring. You can't wear it.'

'I must! He wishes it. It was his mother's—Felix, may I have one of Mamma's for a guard?'

'May you!' said Felix, smiling.

'I should like you to give it to me. Come in.'

He came to inspect the unlocking of the ponderous old inlaid dressing-case, with velvet-lined compartments mostly empty, or only with little labelled papers of first curls, down as far as 'Edward Clement, 1842,' after which stern reality had absorbed sentiment—a sad declension from the blue enamel shrine with a pearl cypher, where Felix's downy flax reposed.

To do Alda justice, there was no greed in her nature, and she even offered Wilmet a turquoise hoop of her own, instead of a little battered ring of three plaited strands of gold, which their mother had worn till her widowhood, and they believed to be the ring of her betrothal. And when Wilmet suggested that the locket would delight Cherry, Alda's ready assent inspired the hope that she felt some compunction for her jealous unkindness.

The locket did prove a soothing charm, coupled with the little consultation as to the ribbon, and the capture of a smooth brown lock of the present to add to the original. And as the manly fingers dealt with the hasp, and the kind smile welcomed her pleasure, Cherry's heart felt that while she had her Felix, Alda need little comprehend her craving for attention from any one.

Yet her greeting to John Harewood was shy, tame, and frightened, compared with Alda's pretty graceful cordiality, as she told him that she was delighted, and envied Lance his powers of diplomacy. In fact, it was Alda who kept up the conversation, and made things pleasant, with the ease of society; while Felix was shy, Wilmet longed for silence, and Ferdinand looked like a picture of Spanish melancholy, such as had almost infected the whole table.

'I believe I must ask you to bestow a little time on me,' he said, as soon as the meal was over; and Alda made it evident that she meant to be in the conclave, which took place in the back drawing-room. It was at once made evident that the Pursuivant proposal was abhorrent to her; not that she behaved to Felix, nor indeed did she ever do so to any of his sex, as she permitted herself to do to Geraldine, but she showed great displeasure at the idea having been started.

'Things are unfortunate enough already,' she said, with something like Wilmet's dignity; 'but I should never forgive such hopeless ruin to dear Ferdinand's prospects.'

'Have I not told you that no prospect is anything to me if you can only be mine?'

'We know all that,' said Alda, drawing herself away rather sharply from the caressing hand, 'and therefore I must think for you, and I will not be the means of lowering your position in life.'

'Alda, dearest!' cried Ferdinand, glancing at Felix in such genuine distress as made him interfere in pity.

'We understand about position, Ferdinand; and you and Alda have been able to observe how far life is enjoyable in this lowered position.'

'Felix,' said Alda, who had evidently wound herself up for this crisis, 'you know very well that you stand quite out of common rules; but I am sure you can see that however valuable your work may be, it would be wrong to draw Ferdinand to the same level.'

'As for that,' said Ferdinand moodily, yet with the air of a banished prince, 'Felix knows what my father was; and if I knew that my grandfather was an honest man, it would be well. A stray wanderer, cast up at your door, has no right to talk of levels.'

'You are not to talk,' said Alda, more affectionately. 'You are too generous to be allowed to think.'

'In plain English, Alda,' said her brother, 'the objection is yours.'

'I cannot see him sacrifice himself for my sake,' said Alda.

'As though it could be a sacrifice!' exclaimed Ferdinand, 'when it opens the way to make you my own at once, my peerless beauty! If you—'

'Come, we have had all this over before,' said Alda, shrinking a little petulantly as he hovered over her, speaking with the fervour of his Mexican nature, and his eyes glowing with eagerness; 'if you will not have common sense, I must.'

'Common sense! It is not common sense I want! It is love!'

'If you doubt my affection—' said Alda, with dignity, drawing back.

'No! no! no! I never was so profane. Only it drives me frantic to hear you so coolly willing to keep us apart for—'

'Because my affection is less selfish and narrow than yours,' said Alda, raising her voice as his became like a roll of distant thunder. 'I tell you I will not be the means of binding you to a petty provincial paper, that may give an immediate pittance, but will lead to nothing. Would that be love worth having? I appeal to Felix, his scheme though it was.'

Felix was a very uncomfortable third party, especially as Alda's appeal implied a certain accusation of himself. 'I own,' he said, 'that this situation is not likely to lead to promotion, but it would be competence. Ferdinand would be satisfied, but you—'

'I, who know what he is used to, cannot be satisfied for him.'

'As if you—' gasped the lover; but Alda would not let him go on.

'No,' she said, 'we must be patient. For him to remain in the Life- guards would be madness. but a few years at Mr. Brown's, with the interest he already has in the business, will open a career to him.'

'And I can run down every Sunday,' said Ferdinand. 'It is her determination; I suppose she is right, Felix, but I wish— If I could wish her otherwise, she should be less prudent!'

'I cannot see that she has any right to ask it of you,' indignantly exclaimed Felix.

But he found this was putting his head into a hornet's nest. Ferdinand would not have contested her right to send him down among the lions, and would never have given her back her troth, like Knight Des Lorges. No, he hotly contended that Alda had a perfect right to make her own terms, and still more hotly, though most inconsistently, that to work at Peter Brown's was his own free choice.

It was incontestable that a South American merchant's career offered more possibilities of rising into opulence and consideration than the proprietorship of a country paper; and though Felix privately doubted whether desk-work would suit Ferdinand half as well as the work where he himself could have contributed wits, he could say no more. Ferdinand was greatly disappointed; but there was no sacrifice that he would not make, and persist in with his silent Spanish perseverance, for Alda's sake. Indeed, he could not bear not to begin at once. He would return at once to his regiment, send in his papers, and dispose of his horses and equipments, making arrangements with Peter Brown to enter his house. He seemed to be in a fever till the matter was in train, and was entirely past remonstrance. And Felix recognised that the lovers must act for themselves, and could only feel thoroughly vexed with Alda, and equally vexed with himself for the consternation with which he thought of having her at home three years longer!

It was the next evening; and not only had Alda's own lover departed, but Captain Harewood was missing, and with him Lance, and the only explanation was from Bernard, that they were gone to Minsterham. No doubt Wilmet was sensible of a blank when she came home, though she would not allow it, and stoutly defended her Captain's right of going where and when he pleased without notice. She had to fight his battles, till late in the evening he walked in. 'Here we are! It is later than I expected.'

'Where's Lance?'

'He came in with me. Gone to his room, then.—Here, Geraldine, this little gentleman requests the honour of your leaning on him.'

'Oh, what a beauty! What a dear little ivory monster! Turbaned head, serpent's tail, and such a fascinating face!'

'Is the cane the right length! I measured yours.'

'You don't mean that he is for me! So smooth and so steady! Where does he come from?'

'From Benares—I bought him at the great fair; and from the moment I saw you, it was plain that in the eternal fitness of things he was destined to you.'

'To make a Pagan of her,' said Felix. 'See her worshipping her little idol!'

'Not my idol, but my prop and companion for life.'

'Your Lord Gerald, laughed Felix, as she walked triumphantly round the room, perhaps her first unnecessary promenade since she was seven years old.

'This is just the time I didn't expect you,' said Wilmet; 'is the seven o'clock train put on again?'

'We didn't come by the train.' And Felix and Cherry smiled at one another as they detected that Wilmet's economical soul was vexed. 'I wanted Lance to see his doctor again, and the railway seems so bad for his head that I drove.'

'How very kind!' exclaimed Wilmet.

'I am afraid I have not managed it well. I would not make an appointment, lest it should be a glaring day; so Manby was out, and we could only leave a message before going to the precincts. Lance was in wild spirits, and the boys gave him such an uproarious welcome, that old Canon Burley sent in to know what was the matter, and was told it was only little Underwood come back. He dined with us, but I am afraid I was off guard, for I never thought of his going and taking a place in the Cathedral.'

'I should think not!' said Wilmet, 'except that it is in the nature of boys to be provoking, even about church-going. Then it has knocked him up.'

'He was forced to come out in the Psalms; and Poulter, one of the lay-vicars, got anxious about him, and went after him when the Lesson began, found him with his head down on the table in the sacristy, and thought he had fainted, but he was only crying and entirely done up. Manby came just as Poulter brought him in, and gave him a proper good lecture.'

'A very good thing,' said Wilmet, 'if one could only get him to believe there is any need of care when his head is not actually painful. What did Mr. Manby think of him?'

'He says he is as well as could reasonably be hoped—quite recovered from the fever; but the sun-stroke was as severe as any he has seen in England, and coming on the top of all that overwork, both study and music, it has left an amount of irritability and excitability of brain that must not be trifled with. He made poor Lance confess all the little experiments he has been trying on himself, and ordered him to leave off whatever he is about at the first threatening of dizziness or pain.'

'Then there's not much chance of his going back?'

'Not before Christmas at soonest. One would think the poor little fellow must have been aware of that; but the verdict cut him up very much. I thought he had better be quiet till the heat of the day was past, so he lay on my bed till six o'clock, and then he said he was better, but he hardly spoke all the way home.'

Wilmet went at once to see after him, and found him already in bed; but whether sleepy, suffering, or sorrowful, she could not make out, for he hid his eyes from the candle, and only muttered 'No, thank you,' in reply to whatever she offered, till she yielded to his evident longing for darkness and silence.

He was up and about in the morning; but when at noon Bernard rushed in from school, he was neither in the drawing-room, garden, nor office, and the door of his—or rather Mr. Froggatt's—bedroom was locked. Bernard bounced at it, calling, 'Let me in, I say; I'll not make a row.'

'There aren't any more of you?' parleyed Lance.

'No! Let me in, I say!'—kicking at the panels—'I must speak to you!'

'I'm coming; hold your din!' And Lance revealed himself without coat or boots.

'Holloa—how dark! You were never asleep? I came, because one can never catch you without a string of girls and babies after you.'

'Cut on,' said Lance resignedly, shaking up his horse-hair pillow: while Bernard seated himself on the table, and in the half-light of the shuttered room began to disentangle some knotted twine.

'Did you come here to do that?' said Lance, wanting to finish his nap, and chiefly restrained by the trouble of the thing from kicking the intruder out.

'Only, I say, Lance, have you any tin?'

'Not the valley of a brass farthing!' (The last pence of the Vale Leston sovereign had gone into Stella's jam.)

'Wouldn't Felix give you some?'

'I don't know.' (Very gruffly.)

'I wish you'd ask.'

'You have as many tongues as I.'

'Well, you see Felix is not half a bad fellow for one's governor, but he doesn't know what's what; and Sims says he'll go to him if I don't come down with something before to-morrow.'

'Sims! Sims in Smoke-jack Alley? Is that your sort?' demanded Lance, in ineffable disgust.

'He's been keeping a dog for me,' said Bernard sulkily.

'A dog!' Lance sat up in astonishment immeasurable.

'Yes. Its the thing, and no mistake,' said Bernard eagerly.

'His name is Stingo; only we are not quite sure whether he is a bull- terrier or a short-haired King Charles.'

Lance dropped back, wriggling in suppressed convulsions, as he demanded, 'Where did you steal this unmistakeable animal?'

'I bought him,' said Bernard, with a certain magnificence intended to be overawing.

'Then where did you steal the money!'

'Travis,' said Bernard, who considered Christian names unworthy of male lips. 'He always used to tip me a sovereign, and Ben Bowyer, the dog-fancier, said Stingo was worth thirty shillings any day, only he let me have him for eight and six, because he wanted to sell off his stock.'

'I thought as much. And Sims keeps him for you?'

'At ninepence a week; but the brute is at me for ever, and says it is twelve weeks.'

'Pray, how were you to raise ninepence a week? By waiting on Providence or turning coach-wheels?'

'I had some then; and Froggy sometimes gives one half a crown, but the old beast hasn't lately, just because I wanted it—nor Travis either, bad luck to him! quoth this grateful young man. 'I put them all off, making sure of him; and now he's cut and never tipped me at all! It's an abominable sell, and they are all at me.

'All! what more? Have it out,' grunted Lance, with a sound of bodily pain in his tone such as would have silenced any one above ten years old, and a bored contemptuous manner that would have crushed any attempt at confidence—if he had been the right person to confess to.

Nevertheless, Bernard mumbled, 'Shooting-gallery. And Mother Goldie vowed she would lug me up to Wilmet if I don't fork out!'

'Mother Goldie! You little disgusting ape! You've been tucking in what you owed in pies and tarts! cried Lance, who was too constitutionally heedless of the palate to have any charity for its temptations.

'It's all Wilmet's fault,' said Bernard. 'She never gives one anything fit to eat. There was that beastly lamp out there went and got broke, and what does she do but crib it out of our grub! Now, Lance, was any living soul served like that before? She gave us only that beastly stir-about at breakfast' (Bernard worked his single adjective hard),' no butter nor sugar at tea, and no pudding, except when there's that beastly mess of rice.'

'I'm sure I've seen pudding.'

'Oh! she came round when Felix came home. She knew he wouldn't stand it. Alda used to buy marmalade and anchovy on her own hook, so I don't see why I shouldn't.'

'Alda didn't go on tick, I suppose.'

'Serve Wilmet right if we all did. I don't believe there's a beggar so badly fed. Nares says—'

'You unnatural little sneak, you haven't been and gone and complained to him!'

'No; but all the town is crying out upon her shabbiness. They say it is a perfect shame how little butcher's meat she gets. Nares's mother and sisters do nothing but laugh at it, and Nares says nothing will make us comfortable but a bankruptcy. Hollo!'

For a well-aimed swing of the bolster laid him sprawling on the floor.

'Take that for mentioning such a word!'

'My eyes, Lance, is it swearing?' said Bernard, with a little affectation of innocence. 'How you have been and bumped my knees;' and he sat on the floor, pulling up his trousers to gain a view; 'there'll be a bruise as big as half a crown! Well, but Nares says it was a real blessing to them; for before it old Nares was always in a rage, and his mother boohooing; and now it is over they live like fighting-cocks, on champagne, and lobster-salad, and mulli—what's his name?—first chop; and the women dress in silks and velvets and feathers, no end of swells! and they say it is regular stoopid to pinch like that, for no one will believe we ain't going to smash while she is such a screw!'

'If you weren't nothing but a little donkey,' said Lance, sitting coiled up with his head on his knee, grimly contemplating him, 'you'd be a show specimen of precocious depravity.'

'I declare,' persisted Bernard, 'Nares says it is coming as sure as fate; for his governor, and Jackman, and Collis are going to stump up the old Pursuivant with their new Bexley Tribune, and Redstone is to be sub-editor.'

'The black-hearted rascal!' cried Lance, bounding on his feet in a rage. 'He ought to be kicked out of the shop this instant!'

'Now don't, Lance,' entreated Bernard, 'for Nares will pitch into me for telling. He says they've got an opening through the Pur backing up that mean beggar Smith; and Collis and Jackman will find the cash, and Nares's father is to be editor, and they vow Froggatt and Underwood will be beat out of the field.'

'Catch them,' said Lance, and he stood leaning against the solid old carved bed-post in silence, till Bernard returned to the insolvency at present far more pressing.

'Won't you help me about Stingo?' he said.

'Do you want me to send him to the dog-show, ticketted "The Real Animal and no mistake"?'

'Don't, Lance,' said the boy peevishly. 'I thought you were good- natured, and would lend me some tin, or at least stop the blackguard from being such a baboon. He's found out that Travis has cut, and he says he'll come to Felix this very day,' ended he, not far from crying.

'I can't anyhow, to-day, Bear,' said Lance, more kindly. 'My head is very bad, and you've not mended it.'

'It was well enough when you broke my knees,' grumbled Bernard. 'Come, Lance, you used to be a fellow to help one.'

'I can't, I tell you,' said Lance, hastily throwing himself back on the bed, and shutting his eyes. 'It isn't that I won't, but I can't. I couldn't walk straight down the street for giddiness; and if I did, I don't suppose I could talk sense.'

Bernard was startled by the tone as well as the words; but he had not arrived at much pity for any one but himself, and he whined, 'But what shall I do, then?' repeating it dolefully, as Lance lay for some moments silent and with closed eyes.

'Bother!' he broke out angrily at last. 'Look here. Tell the blackguard—let me see—I don't well know what I'm saying. Tell him you've spoken to me—no, to your brother—mind, you needn't say which—and that he'll come and see about it. Now give me that bolster, and take yourself off. Tell them I want no dinner, and don't let any one come! Get along, and shut the door.'

Bernard could extract no more, and departed as the dinner-bell rang, leaving him without energy even to lock the door. Presently Felix was standing anxiously over him; but he reiterated that he could not bear to think of food, and only wanted to be left alone; but just as his brother was leaving him, he said, 'Fee, do you know that Redstone is going over to the enemy?'

'The opposition paper? Nothing more likely. How did you hear?'

'Bear picked it up. I say, wasn't that little beggar to have gone to Stoneborough?'

'Not possible, Lance, I've gone into it with Wilmet. She is in trouble about household expenses, as it is; and with this rival paper on our hands, I can't undertake anything extra. Has he been bothering you? I'm very sorry, but we must keep him here.'

Lance shut his eyes without reply; but no sooner was he left alone than he rolled over, gave vent to a heavy groan from the bottom of his heart, and clenched his hands as he lay. Then followed some heavy sobs, and a few great tears; but gradually a look of purpose and hope came over his face, and he slept. He was lying between sleeping and waking, when a quiet step and cautious knock made him call out, 'Come in, Jack.'

'Your sister wants to know if you are better, and ready for some tea.'

'Thank you, I'm mending. Is Wilmet come home?'

'Yes, but only to become the prey of an ancient female.'

'Mrs. Bisset! Come to inspect you!'

'She won't, then! Shall I get you some tea?'

'No, thank you. But, I say, Jack, do you see my big box that we brought home yesterday? Would you just dig into it for me?'

John Harewood applied himself to disentangle a frightful knot, observing, 'This looks like Bill's handiwork.'

'Ay! Bill put all my traps together when our other fellows came back.'

'Together indeed!' said the Captain, looking at the heterogeneous collection.

'There's nothing to hurt,' said Lance. 'Do you see a green box?'

'A fiddle-case, you boy?'

'A violin-case,' said Lance, with dignity. 'Give it me.' And taking out his purse, he produced its only contents—namely, the key—tried to sit up to unlock his treasure, but was forced by giddiness to lie back again with a gasp, and hold out the key to his friend.

'Come, I should think a fiddle the last thing you could want just now,' said John.

'Just so. I'm afraid it is. Only, just let me see if she is all right. Ay!' and then, after a gaze, a fond touch or two, an irrepressible sigh strangled in the midst, 'lock her up again! You ain't by any chance going home to-morrow?'

'Do you want anything?'

'Why, when I got her at old Spicer's sale for twenty-two and sixpence, Poulter was beside himself at my luck, and said she was worth double that any day, and he would give it me if I got tired of her. Now, if I'd only known yesterday, I could have done it myself, but I can't go, and I can't write—but if you could but send or take it to Poulter, and get the money for me!'

'Do you feel bound to give Poulter the refusal! for if it is really a good instrument, it ought to be worth more than that.'

'Poulter has been very good to me. He taught me to play on it,' said Lance; 'that is, he showed me a little; but Robin made me lock it up and give her the key all last spring, for fear of hindering my mugging; and I can't touch her now, so she has been very little use to me. I promised Poulter, and I think he should have her. Besides, I want the money slick at once. It's no good sticking it in a window to wait for some one to give what it is worth.'

John marvelled what need of money could have come upon the boy in the last twenty-four hours, but he was too discreet a friend to take advantage of necessity to ask questions, and said, 'The fact was, I was thinking of running up to town to get a sewing-machine for your sister, but if I start by the earlier train, I can see Poulter on the way, and if he does not want it himself, he can tell me where to dispose of it to the best advantage.'

'Only it must be ready money,' said Lance; it must be owned with scarcely the alacrity of gratitude John deserved. 'If it didn't make much difference, I wish Poulter could have her, for then I should sometimes see her and handle her again, and I think he would use her well.'

'Very well, I'll tell him.'

'And don't tell any one here,' added Lance. 'You don't go and tell W. W. everything, do you?' he added, wistful and perplexed.

'Not other people's secrets,' said John. 'Now I am going to fetch you some food; you are looking quite faint, you have had nothing since yesterday's dinner.'

Poor Lance! when John was gone, he turned with another groan, once more took the violin in his arms, laid it on his shoulder, and made the motions of playing, then kissed it, and whispering, 'Poulter will be good to you, my pretty. It's not for that little beggar of a Bear! It's for Felix, for Felix—' and then at a sound of steps hastily replaced it, shut the box, and fell back again, dizzy and exhausted.

The next day, he betook himself to a refuge more impregnable to Bernard than even Mr. Froggatt's bedroom, namely the office, which suited his sociable nature, and where he was always welcome. He found employment there, too, in cutting out extracts from newspapers, labelling library books, and packing parcels, and sometimes also, it must be owned, in drawing caricatures of the figures he spied through the chinks of the door.



CHAPTER XXIII

SMOKE-JACK ALLEY



Launce. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost, for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd.

Panthino. What's the unkindest ty'd?

Launce. Why, he that's ty'd here—Crab, my dog. SHAKESPEARE.

John Harewood returned, bringing with him what Alda took for a dressing-case, and Cherry for a drawing-box, but which proved to contain a wonderful genie to save the well-worn fingers many a prick. To Lance he first administered the magical words, 'All right,' and then making an opportunity, he put five sovereigns into his hand. Lance's first impulse was, however, not to thank, but to exclaim, 'Then Poulter has not got it?'

No, Poulter's conscience had forbidden him to purchase 'little Underwood's' treasure at what he knew to be so much beneath its value; but he had given Captain Harewood his best advice and recommendations, and by that means the violin had been taken at a London shop, still at a price beneath his estimate, but the utmost that could be expected where ready money was the point. Lance ought to have been delighted, and his native politeness made him repeat, 'Thank you'; but he could not quite keep down his regret—'Now I shall never see or hear her again.'

However, the next day, when Bernard flew upon him at twelve o'clock, asseverating that there was shade all the way, he allowed himself to be persuaded, prudently carrying with him only ten shillings, and trusting to his blue umbrella rather than to Bernard's shade, which could hardly have been obtained by sidling against the walls.

Bernard did not seem to have enjoyed much more of Stingo's society than Lance of his violin's—the produce of the same bounty. He confessed that he had only ventured on taking the dog out three times in a string, and on one of these occasions he had broken loose after a cat, on another had fought with Nares's dog, and on the third had snapped at Angela.

'You didn't take Angel into these places!'

'No, she came to meet me.'

'That's a sign of grace, but, Bear, I can't stand these diggings at all. I've a great mind to turn back.'

'You won't!' cried Bernard. 'You must have been here often when. you were a grammar-school fellow.'

'Not we! This is a cut below us! Fulbert would never have been caught here!'

'But you are going to get me out of this fix?'

'Haven't I said I will? only hold your tongue, and let me alone to manage the rascal. If you open your mouth, I've done with it.'

Bernard was forced to acquiesce, though Lance's manner vexed and irritated him. Popular and valuable as Lance had been with the choristers, he was not dealing as well with his brother, perhaps partly because he was more consciously trying to influence him; and likewise because the state of his health and his prospects so far affected his manner, that though never ill-humoured, it had lost some of the easy careless sweetness of high spirits, and assumed an ironical tone, exasperating to a child who could not brook ridicule. He was ashamed and dismayed at the place where Bernard was leading him, so low and disreputable that the boys of his time had never haunted it, and his own gamin propensities had never extended so far. It was a tumble-down quarter; the houses, deplorable hovels, run up hastily for the workmen at the potteries, and every third or fourth a beershop; and in the midst dwelt Mr. Sims, a maimed poacher, who kept a large live-stock with which to trade on the sporting tastes of the youth of Bexley.

Probably he was gratified to see that 'my brother' meant nothing more imposing than the chorister; but Lance had so cultivated his opportunities at Dick Graeme's home, as to be more knowing on the subject than Felix would have been. Indeed, it did not take much science to estimate the value of the 'real animal,' whose market price seemed to have fallen considerably. Lance, as he looked at the pied, bandy-legged, long-nosed cur, felt it impossible to set his cost against his keep, nor was he designed by nature for driving bargains; but Sims' expectations were founded on the probable, and the debt was annulled for three-and-sixpence and Stingo himself. Much civility was expended on Lance; dogs, rabbits, and other curiosities were exhibited, and an invitation given to come with the other young gents to admire the favourite terrier's exploits upon a cage of rats shortly expected, admission free.

'You will come, won't you?' cried Bernard eagerly, as they went out.

'What? To all the vilest sports in the place!'

'But, Lance, you told me about the rat hunt at Mr. Graeme's.'

'What? Turning out the barn, with Mr. Graeme himself, and Bill, and all the rest? Do you think that's like letting a lot of wretched beasts out of a trap to be snapped up by a cur of a dog, with no end of drinking foul-mouthed blackguards betting on him?'

'You are always so savage, Lance; and now you've gone and paid away all the money.'

'What more?'

'There's the shooting-gallery, you see.'

Lance did see a public-house called the Flying Stag, where Bernard had contrived to incur a debt of a few shillings under Nares's patronage. While inquiring after the amount, he saw Mr. Mowbray Smith coming along the alley, and was more amused than shocked at the amazement his own presence there would cause the Curate; but just then he perceived that men were standing scowling at their doors, and slovenly women thronging out like ants when their hill is disturbed: and asking an explanation from the damsel in earrings who attended to him, he heard that 'the chaps are determined that that there Smith shall not have the impudence to show his face here again, for a hypocrite, defrauding of the poor. You'd best be away, young gents, there will be a fracaw!'

'A row!' cried Bernard, between excitement and alarm. 'Shall we stay and see it? Won't Smith spy us?'

Lance deigned no reply, but seeing the rough-looking men gathering as if to obstruct the Curate's way, he shot across the street to shake hands with him.

'You! I am sorry to see you!' said Mr. Smith severely; at which Lance gave what under other circumstances would have been an impudent smile, and asked, 'Have you anywhere here to go?'

'I am just come away from a sick man. But you know how wrong it is to bring your little brother here. Take him away,' he added, trying to prevent them from joining him, and at the same time a voice shouted, 'Let him alone, young gents, he aint your sort;' and a hissing and hooting broke out all round, 'A parson as ought to have his gown pulled over his head!'

'What's gone of the coals?' 'How about the blankets?'

Bernard got a tight grip, out of sight, of Lance's coat; Mr. Smith grew red and bit his lips; but Lance walked close to him, and as they began to be jostled, took his arm, holding the blue sunshade over both their heads. Unsavoury missiles began to fly; but a woman screeched, 'Bad luck to ye, ye vagabone! ye've ruinated the young gentleman's purty blue umberella!'

'Down with it, young chap,' called another, 'or ye'll be served with the same sauce!'

'Serve un right too!' was the rejoinder. ''Tis they Underwoods, as never stands up for poor men's rights, and is all for the tyrants.' (All this full of abusive epithets.)

'Who said that?' broke out Lance, beginning hastily to close his umbrella, and trying to wrench his arm from Mr. Smith; 'I'm ready for him.'

But Mr. Smith, with an angry 'Are you mad?' held him fast; and his struggles provoked a good-humoured laugh at the little champion, still so white and slight.

'No, no,' said a big powerful man, collaring a great lad who had been thrusting forward at Lance's defiance, 'we don't have no mills with natomies like you! Go home and mind yer own business. Your father was another guess sort of parson, and I'll not see a finger laid on you. Be off, till we've given that other bad lot a bit of our mind.'

'Not I!' growled Lance. 'I'll have it out with that rascal there.— Nonsense, Mr. Smith; I can, I say—and I will!'

But the big man and Mr. Smith were perfectly in accordance this time; and without a word between them, the impulse of the coal-heaver's weight somehow opened a path, where, shoved by the one, and dragged by the other, Lance was at the corner—then round it—the crowd followed no farther.

'A plucky little chap that!' quoth the coal-heaver to Mr. Smith. 'You may thank your stars that he's his father's son, or it would have been the worse for you! And if ever you show the face of you here again, you know what to expect.'

'I expect nothing but what I am willing to receive in my Master's service,' said Mr. Smith, firmly meeting his eyes. 'Meantime, thank you for the help you have given me with these boys. Good morning. You will judge me more fairly another time.'

The man added another contemptuous oath to those with which he had freely laden his discourse; but Lance paused a moment to say, 'Thank you too, you meant it well; but I wish you'd have let me have it out with that foul-mouthed cad.'