So we grew silent, and again I thought of suicide, and of the unhappy old man, who just then whispered a sentence or two to himself with a sigh. For the next hour he had been quite silent, and old Wyat informed me that she must go down for candles. Ours were already burnt down to the sockets. Theres a candle in the next room, I suggested, hating the idea of being left alone with the patient. Hoot! Miss. I dare na set a candle but wax in his presence, whispered the old woman, scornfully. I think if we were to stir the fire, and put on a little more coal, we should have a great deal of light. Hell ha the candles, said Dame Wyat, doggedly; and she tottered from the chamber, muttering to herself; and I heard her take her candle from the next room and depart, shutting the outer door after her. Here was I then alone, but for this unearthly companion, whom I feared inexpressibly, at two oclock, in the vast old house of Bartram. I stirred the fire. It was low, and would not blaze. I stood up, and, with my hand on the mantelpiece, endeavoured to think of cheerful things. But it was a struggle against wind and tidevain; and so I drifted away into haunted regions. Uncle Silas was perfectly still. I would not suffer myself to think of the number of dark rooms and passages which now separated me from the other living tenants of the house. I awaited with a false composure the return of old Wyat. Over the mantelpiece was a lookingglass. At another time this might have helped to entertain my solitary moments, but now I did not like to venture a peep. A small thick Bible lay on the chimneypiece, and leaning its back against the mirror, I began to read in it with a mind as attentively directed as I could. While so engaged in turning over the leaves, I lighted upon two or three oddlooking papers, which had been folded into it. One was a broad printed thing, with names and dates written into blank spaces, and was about the size of a quarter of a yard of very broad ribbon. The others were mere scraps, with Dudley Ruthyn penned in my cousins vulgar roundhand at the foot. While I folded and replaced these, I really dont know what caused me to fancy that something was moving behind me, as I stood with my back toward the bed. I do not recollect any sound whatever; but instinctively I glanced into the mirror, and my eyes were instantly fixed by what I saw. The figure of Uncle Silas rose up, and dressed in a long white morning gown, slid over the end of the bed, and with two or three swift noiseless steps, stood behind me, with a deathlike scowl and a simper. Preternaturally tall and thin, he stood for a moment almost touching me, with the white bandage pinned across his forehead, his bandaged arm stiffly by his side, and diving over my shoulder, with his long thin hand he snatched the Bible, and whispered over my headThe serpent beguiled her and she did eat; and after a momentary pause, he glided to the farthest window, and appeared to look out upon the midnight prospect. It was cold, but he did not seem to feel it. With the same inflexible scowl and smile, he continued to look out for several minutes, and then with a great sigh, he sat down on the side of his bed, his face immovably turned towards me, with the same painful look. It seemed to me an hour before old Wyat came back; and never was lover made happier at sight of his mistress than I to behold that withered crone. You may be sure I did not prolong my watch. There was now plainly no risk of my uncles relapsing into lethargy. I had a long hysterical fit of weeping when I got into my room, with honest Mary Quince by my side. Whenever I closed my eyes, the face of Uncle Silas was before me, as I had seen it reflected in the glass. The sorceries of Bartram were enveloping me once more. Next morning the doctor said he was quite out of danger, but very weak. Milly and I saw him; and again in our afternoon walk we saw the doctor marching under the trees in the direction of the Windmill Wood. Going down to see that poor girl there? he said, when he had made his salutation, prodding with his levelled stick in the direction. Hawke, or Hawkes, I think. Beautys sick, Maud, exclaimed Milly. Hawkes. Shes upon my dispensary list. Yes, said the doctor, looking into his little notebookHawkes. And what is her complaint? Rheumatic fever. Not infectious? Not the leastno more, as we say, Miss Ruthyn, than a broken leg, and he laughed obligingly. So soon as the doctor had departed, Milly and I agreed to follow to Hawkes cottage and enquire more particularly how she was. To say truth, I am afraid it was rather for the sake of giving our walk a purpose and a point of termination, than for any very charitable interest we might have felt in the patient. Over the inequalities of the upland slope, clumped with trees, we reached the gabled cottage, with its neglected little farmyard. A rheumatic old woman was the only attendant; and, having turned her ear in an attitude of attention, which induced us in gradually exalted keys to enquire how Meg was, she informed us in very loud tones that she had long lost her hearing and was perfectly deaf. And added considerately When the man comes in, appen hell tell ye what ye want. Through the door of a small room at the further end of that in which we were, we could see a portion of the narrow apartment of the patient, and hear her moans and the doctors voice. Well see him, Milly, when he comes out. Let us wait here. So we stood upon the doorstone awaiting him. The sounds of suffering had moved my compassion and interested us for the sick girl. Blest if here isnt Pegtop, said Milly. And the weatherstained red coat, the swarthy forbidding face and sooty locks of old Hawkes loomed in sight, as he stumped, steadying himself with his stick, over the uneven pavement of the yard. He touched his hat gruffly to me, but did not seem half to like our being where we were, for he looked surlily, and scratched his head under his wideawake. Your daughter is very ill, Im afraid, said I. Ayshell be costin me a handful, like her mother did, said Pegtop. I hope her room is comfortable, poor thing. Ay, thats it; she be comfortable enough, I warrantmore nor I. It be all Meg, and nout o Dickon. When did her illness commence? I asked. Day the mare wor shodSaturday. I talked a bit wi the workus folk, but they wont gie noutdang eman how be I to dot? It be allays hard bread wi Silas, an a deal harder now she taen them pains. I wont stan it much longer. Gammon! If she keeps on that way Ill just cut. See how the workus fellahs ill like that! The Doctor gives his services for nothing, I said. An does nothin, bless him! ha, ha. No more nor that old deaf gammon there that costs me three tizzies a week, and haint worth a hporthno more nor Meg there, thats making all she can o them pains. They be all a foolin o me, an thinks I dont know t. Hey? Well see. All this time he was cutting a bit of tobacco into shreds on the windowstone. A workin man be same as a hoss; if he baint cared, he cant worktisnt in him and with these words, having by this time stuffed his pipe with tobacco, he poked the deaf lady, who was pattering about with her back toward him, rather viciously with the point of his stick, and signed for a light. It baint in him, you cant get it out o im, no more nor yell draw smoke out o this, and he raised his pipe an inch or two, with his thumb on the bowl, without backy and fire. Tisnt in it. Maybe I can be of some use? I said, thinking. Maybe, he rejoined. By this time he received from the old deaf abigail a flaming roll of brown paper, and, touching his hat to me, he withdrew, lighting his pipe and sending up little white puffs, like the salute of a departing ship. So he did not care to hear how his daughter was, and had only come here to light his pipe! Just then the Doctor emerged. We have been waiting to hear how your poor patient is today? I said. Very ill, indeed, and utterly neglected, I fear. If she were equal to itbut shes notI think she ought to be removed to the hospital immediately. That poor old woman is quite deaf, and the man is so surly and selfish! Could you recommend a nurse who would stay here till shes better? I will pay her with pleasure, and anything you think might be good for the poor girl. So this was settled on the spot. Doctor Jolks was kind, like most men of his calling, and undertook to send the nurse from Feltram with a few comforts for the patient; and he called Dickon to the yardgate, and I suppose told him of the arrangement; and Milly and I went to the poor girls door and asked, May we come in? There was no answer. So, with the conventional construction of silence, we entered. Her looks showed how ill she was. We adjusted her bedclothes, and darkened the room, and did what we could for hernoting, beside, what her comfort chiefly required. She did not answer any questions. She did not thank us. I should almost have fancied that she had not perceived our presence, had I not observed her dark, sunken eyes once or twice turned up towards my face, with a dismal look of wonder and enquiry. The girl was very ill, and we went every day to see her. Sometimes she would answer our questionssometimes not. Thoughtful, observant, surly, she seemed; and as people like to be thanked, I sometimes wonder that we continued to throw our bread upon these ungrateful waters. Milly was specially impatient under this treatment, and protested against it, and finally refused to accompany me into poor Beautys bedroom. I think, my good Meg, said I one day, as I stood by her bedshe was now recovering with the sure reascent of youththat you ought to thank Miss Milly. Ill not thank her, said Beauty, doggedly. Very well, Meg; I only thought Id ask you, for I think you ought. As I spoke, she very gently took just the tip of my finger, which hung close to her coverlet, in her fingers, and drew it beneath, and before I was aware, burying her head in the clothes, she suddenly clasped my hand in both hers to her lips, and kissed it passionately, again and again, sobbing. I felt her tears. I tried to withdraw my hand, but she held it with an angry pull, continuing to weep and kiss it. Do you wish to say anything, my poor Meg? I asked. Nout, Miss, she sobbed gently; and she continued to kiss my hand and weep. But suddenly she said, I wont thank Milly, for its a you; it baint her, she hadnt the thoughtno, no, its a you, Miss. I cried hearty in the dark last night, thinkin o the apples, and the way I knocked them awa wi a pur o my foot, the day father rapped me ower the head wi his stick; it was kind o you and very bad o me. I wish youd beat me, Miss; yere better to me than father or motherbetter to me than a; an I wish I could die for you, Miss, for Im not fit to look at you. I was surprised. I began to cry. I could have hugged poor Meg. I did not know her history. I have never learned it since. She used to talk with the most utter selfabasement before me. It was no religious feelingit was a kind of expression of her love and worship of meall the more strange that she was naturally very proud. There was nothing she would not have borne from me except the slightest suspicion of her entire devotion, or that she could in the most trifling way wrong or deceive me. I am not young now. I have had my sorrows, and with them all that wealth, virtually unlimited, can command; and through the retrospect a few bright and pure lights quiver along my lifes dark streamdark, but for them; and these are shed, not by the splendour of a splendid fortune, but by two or three of the simplest and kindest remembrances, such as the poorest and homeliest life may count up, and beside which, in the quiet hours of memory, all artificial triumphs pale, and disappear, for they are never quenched by time or distance, being founded on the affections, and so far heavenly. X A ChapterFull of Lovers We had about this time a pleasant and quite unexpected visit from Lord Ilbury. He had come to pay his respects, understanding that my uncle Silas was sufficiently recovered to see visitors. And I think Ill run upstairs first, and see him, if he admits me, and then I have ever so long a message from my sister, Mary, for you and Miss Millicent; but I had better dispose of my business firstdont you think so?and I shall return in a few minutes. And as he spoke our tremulous old butler returned to say that Uncle Silas would be happy to see him. So he departed; and you cant think how pleasant our homely sittingroom looked with his coat and stick in itguarantees of his return. Do you think, Milly, he is going to speak about the timber, you know, that Cousin Knollys spoke of? I do hope not. So do I, said Milly. I wish hed stayed a bit longer with us first, for if he does, father will sure to turn him out of doors, and well see no more of him. Exactly, my dear Milly; and hes so pleasant and goodnatured. And he likes you awful well, he does. Im sure he likes us both equally, Milly; he talked a great deal to you at Elverston, and used to ask you so often to sing those two pretty Lancashire ballads, I said; but you know when you were at your controversies and religious exercises in the window, with that pillar of the church, the Rev. Spriggs Biddlepen Get awa wi your nonsense, Maud; how could I help answering when he dodged me up and down my Testament and catechism?an I most hate him, I tell you, and Cousin Knollys, youre such fools, I do. And whatever you say, the lord likes you uncommon, and well you know it, ye hussy. I know no such thing; and you dont think it, you hussy, and I really dont care who likes me or who doesnt, except my relations; and I make the lord a present to you, if youll have him. In this strain were we talking when he reentered the room, a little sooner than we had expected to see him. Milly, who, you are to recollect, was only in process of reformation, and still retained something of the Derbyshire dairymaid, gave me a little clandestine pinch on the arm just as he made his appearance. I just refused a present from her, said odious Milly, in answer to his enquiring look, because I knew she could not spare it. The effect of all this was that I blushed one of my overpowering blushes. People told me they became me very much; I hope so, for the misfortune was frequent; and I think nature owed me that compensation. It places you both in a most becoming light, said Lord Ilbury, quite innocently. I really dont know which most to admirethe generosity of the offer or of the refusal. Well, it was kind, if you but knew. Im most tempted to tell him, said Milly. I checked her with a really angry look, and said, Perhaps you have not observed it; but I really think, for a sensible person, my cousin Milly here talks more nonsense than any twenty other girls. A twentygirl power! Thats an immense compliment. Ive the greatest respect for nonsense, I owe it so much; and I really think if nonsense were banished, the earth would grow insupportable. Thank you, Lord Ilbury, said Milly, who had grown quite easy in his company during our long visit at Elverston; and I tell you, Miss Maud, if you grow saucy, Ill accept your present, and what will you say then? I really dont know; but just now I want to ask Lord Ilbury how he thinks my uncle looks; neither I nor Milly have seen him since his illness. Very much weaker, I think; but he may be gaining strength. Still, as my business was not quite pleasant, I thought it better to postpone it, and if you think it would be right, Ill write to Doctor Bryerly to ask him to postpone the discussion for a little time. I at once assented, and thanked him; indeed, if I had had my way, the subject should never have been mentioned, I felt so hardhearted and rapacious; but Lord Ilbury explained that the trustees were constrained by the provisions of the will, and that I really had no power to release them; and I hoped that Uncle Silas also understood all this. And now, said he, weve returned to Grange, my sister and I, and it is nearer than Elverston, so that we are really neighbours; and Mary wants Lady Knollys to fix a timeshe owes us a visit, you knowand you really must come at the same time; it will be so very pleasant, the same party exactly meeting in a new scene; and we have not half explored our neighbourhood; and Ive got down all those Spanish engravings I told you of, and the Venetian missals, and all the rest. I think I remember very accurately the things you were most interested by, and theyre all there; and really you must promise, you and Miss Millicent Ruthyn. And I forgot to mentionyou know you complained that you were ill supplied with books, so Mary thought you would allow her to share her supplythey are the new books, you knowand when you have read yours, you and she can exchange. What girl was ever quite frank about her likings? I dont think I was more of a cheat than others; but I never could tell of myself. It is quite true that this duplicity and reserve seldom deceives. Our hypocrisies are forced upon some of our sex by the acuteness and vigilance of all in this field of enquiry; but if we are sly, we are also lynxeyed, capital detectives, most ingenious in fitting together the bits and dovetails of a cumulative case; and in those affairs of love and liking, have a terrible exploratory instinct, and so, for the most part, when detected we are found out not only to be in love, but to be rogues moreover. Lady Mary was very kind; but had Lady Mary of her own mere motion taken all this trouble? Was there no more energetic influence at the bottom of that welcome chest of books, which arrived only half an hour later? The circulating library of those days was not the epidemic and ubiquitous influence to which it has grown; and there were many places where it could not find you out. Altogether that evening Bartram had acquired a peculiar beautya bright and mellow glow, in which even its gateposts and wheelbarrow were interesting, and next day came a little cloudDudley appeared. You may be sure he wants money, said Milly. He and father had words this morning. He took a chair at our luncheon, found fault with everything in his own laconic dialect, ate a good deal notwithstanding, and was sulky, and with Milly snappish. To me, on the contrary, when Milly went into the hall, he was mild and whimpering, and disposed to be confidential. Theres the Governor says he hasnt a bob! Danged if I know how an old fellah in his bedroom muddles away money at that rate. I dont suppose he thinks I can git along without tin, and he knows them trustees wont gie me a tizzy till they get what they calls an opiniondang em! Bryerly says he doubts it must all go under settlement. Theyll settle me nicely if they do; and Governor knows all about it, and wont gie me a danged brass farthin, an me wi bills to pay, an lawyersdang emwriting letters. He knows summat o that hisself, does Governor; and he might ha consideration a bit for his own flesh and blood, I say. But he never does nout for none but hisself. Ill sell his books and his jewels next fit he takesthats how Ill fit him. This amiable young man, glowering, with his elbows on the table and his fingers in his great whiskers, followed his homily, where clergymen append the blessing, with a muttered variety of very different matter. Now, Maud, said he, pathetically, leaning back suddenly in his chair, with all his conscious beauty and misfortunes in his face, is not it hard lines? I thought the appeal was going to shape itself into an application for money; but it did not. I never knowd a reel beautyfirstchop, of course, I meanthat wasnt kind along of it, and Im a fellah as cant git along without sympathythats why I say itan isnt it hard lines? Now, say its hard lineshaint it, Maud? I did not know exactly what hard lines meant, but I said I suppose it is very disagreeable. And with this concession, not caring to hear any more in the same vein, I rose, intending to take my departure. No, thats jest it. I knew yed say it, Maud. Yere a kind lassye betis in yer pretty face. I like ye awful, I dotheres not a handsomer lass in Liverpool nor Lunnon itselfnowhere. He had seized my hand, and trying to place his arm about my waist, essayed that salute which I had so narrowly escaped on my first introduction. Dont, sir, I exclaimed in high indignation, escaping at the same moment from his grasp. No offence, lass; no harm, Maud; you must not be so shywere cousins, you knowan I wouldnt hurt ye, Maud, no more nor Id knock my head off. I wouldnt. I did not wait to hear the rest of his tender protestations, but, without showing how nervous I was, I glided out of the room quietly, making an orderly retreat, the more meritorious as I heard him call after me persuasivelyCome back, Maud. What are ye afeard on, lass? Come back, I saydo now; theres a good wench. As Milly and I were taking our walk that day, in the direction of the Windmill Wood, to which, in consequence perhaps of some secret order, we had now free access, we saw Beauty, for the first time since her illness, in the little yard, throwing grain to the poultry. How do you find yourself today, Meg? I am very glad to see you able to be about again; but I hope it is not too soon. We were standing at the barred gate of the little enclosure, and quite close to Meg, who, however, did not choose to raise her head, but, continuing to shower her grain and potatoskins among her hens and chickens, said in a low tone Father baint in sight? Look jist round a bit and say if ye see him. But Dickons dusky red costume was nowhere visible. So Meg looked up, pale and thin, and with her old grave, observant eyes, and she said quietly  Tisnt that Im not glad to see ye; but if father was to spy me talking friendly wi ye, now that Im hearty, and you havin no more call to me, hed be allays a watching and thinkin I was tellin o tales, and appen hed want me to worrit ye for money, Miss Maud; an tisnt here hed spend it, but in the Feltram pottusses, he would, and we want for nothin thats good for us. But thats how twould be, an hed allays be a jawing and a lickin of I; so dont mind me, Miss Maud, and appen I might do ye a good turn some day. A few days after this little interview with Meg, as Milly and I were walking brisklyfor it was a clear frosty dayalong the pleasant slopes of the sheepwalk, we were overtaken by Dudley Ruthyn. It was not a pleasant surprise. There was this mitigation, however we were on foot, and he driving in a dogcart along the track leading to the moor, with his dogs and gun. He brought his horse for a moment to a walk, and with a careless nod to me, removing his short pipe from his mouth, he said Governors callin for ye, Milly; and he told me to send you slick home to him if I saw you, and I think hell gie ye some money; but ye better take him while hes in the humour, lass, or mayhap yell go long without. And with those words, apparently intent on his game, he nodded again, and, pipe in mouth, drove at a quick trot over the slope of the hill, and disappeared. So I agreed to await Millys return while she ran home, and rejoined me where I was. Away she ran, in high spirits, and I wandered listlessly about in search of some convenient spot to sit down upon, for I was a little tired. She had not been gone five minutes, when I heard a step approaching, and looking round, saw the dogcart close by, the horse browsing on the short grass, and Dudley Ruthyn within a few paces of me. Ye see, Maud, Ive bin thinkin why youre so vexed wi me, an I thought Id jest come back an ask ye what I may a done to anger ye so; theres no sin in that, I thinkis there? Im not angry. I did not say so. I hope thats enough, I said, startled; and, notwithstanding my speech, very angry, for I felt instinctively that Millys despatch homeward was a mere trick, and I the dupe of this coarse stratagem. Well then, if ye baint angry, so much the better, Maud. I only want to know why youre afeard o me. I never struck a man foul, much less hurt a girl, in my days; besides, Maud, I likes ye too well to hurt ye. Dang it, lass, youre my cousin, ye know, and cousins is allays together and lovin like, an none says again it. Ive nothing to explainthere is nothing to explain. Ive been quite friendly, I said, hurriedly. Friendly! Well, if there baint a cram! How can ye think it friendly, Maud, when ye wont amost shake hands wi me? Its enough to make a fellah sware, or cry amost. Why dye like aggravatin a poor devil? Now baint ye an illnatured little puss, Maud, an I likin ye so well? Youre the prettiest lass in Derbyshire; theres nothin I wouldnt do for ye. And he backed his declaration with an oath. Be so good, then, as to reenter your dogcart and drive away, I replied, very much incensed. Now, there it is again! Ye cant speak me civil. Another fellahd fly out, an maybe kiss ye for spite; but I baint that sort, Im all for coaxin and kindness, an ye wont let me. What be you drivin at, Maud? I think Ive said very plainly, sir, that I wish to be alone. Youve nothing to say, except utter nonsense, and Ive heard quite enough. Once for all, I beg, sir, that you will be so good as to leave me. Well, now, look here, Maud; Ill do anything you likeburn me if I dontif youll only jest be kind to me, like cousins should. What did I ever do to vex you? If you think I like any lass better than yousome fellah at Elverstons bin talkin, maybeits nout but lies an nonsense. Not but theres lots o wenches likes me well enough, though I be a plain lad, and speaks my mind straight out. I cant see that you are so frank, sir, as you describe; you have just played a shabby trick to bring about this absurd and most disagreeable interview. And supposin I did send that fool, Milly, out o the way, to talk a bit wi you here, wheres the harm? Dang it, lass, ye mustnt be too hard. Didnt I say Id do whatever ye wished? And you wont, said I. Ye mean to get along out o this? Well, now, I will. There! No use, of course, askin you to kiss and be friends, before I go, as cousins should. Well, dont be riled, lass, Im not askin it; only mind, I do like you awful, and appen Ill find ye in better humour another time. Goodbye, Maud; Ill make ye like me at last. And with these words, to my comfort, he addressed himself to his horse and pipe, and was soon honestly on his way to the moor. XI The Rivals All the time that Dudley chose to persecute me with his odious society, I continued to walk at a brisk pace toward home, so that I had nearly reached the house when Milly met me, with a note which had arrived for me by the post, in her hand. Here, Milly, are more verses. He is a very persevering poet, whoever he is. So I broke the seal; but this time it was prose. And the first words were Captain Oakley! I confess to an odd sensation as these remarkable words met my eye. It might possibly be a proposal. I did not wait to speculate, however, but read these sentences traced in the identical handwriting which had copied the lines with which I had been twice favoured. Captain Oakley presents his compliments to Miss Ruthyn, and trusts she will excuse his venturing to ask whether, during his short stay in Feltram, he might be permitted to pay his respects at BartramHaugh. He has been making a short visit to his aunt, and could not find himself so near without at least attempting to renew an acquaintance which he has never ceased to cherish in memory. If Miss Ruthyn would be so very good as to favour him with ever so short a reply to the question he ventures most respectfully to ask, her decision would reach him at the Hall Hotel, Feltram. Well, hes a roundabout fellah, anyhow. Couldnt he come up and see you if he wanted to? They poeters, they do love writing long yarnsdont they? And with this reflection, Milly took the note and read it through again. Its jolly polite anyhow, isnt it Maud? said Milly, who had conned it over, and accepted it as a model composition. I must have been, I think, naturally a rather shrewd girl; and considering how very little I had seen of the worldnothing in factI often wonder now at the sage conclusions at which I arrived. Were I to answer this handsome and cunning fool according to his folly, in what position should I find myself? No doubt my reply would induce a rejoinder, and that compel another note from me, and that invite yet another from him; and however his might improve in warmth, they were sure not to abate. Was it his impertinent plan, with this show of respect and ceremony, to drag me into a clandestine correspondence? Inexperienced girl as I was, I fired at the idea of becoming his dupe, and fancying, perhaps, that there was more in merely answering his note than it would have amounted to, I said That kind of thing may answer very well with buttonmakers, but ladies dont like it. What would your papa think of it if he found that I had been writing to him, and seeing him without his permission? If he wanted to see me he could have(I really did not know exactly what he could have done)he could have timed his visit to Lady Knollys differently; at all events, he has no right to place me in an embarrassing situation, and I am certain Cousin Knollys would say so; and I think his note both shabby and impertinent. Decision was not with me an intellectual process. When quite cool I was the most undecided of mortals, but once my feelings were excited I was prompt and bold. Ill give the note to Uncle Silas, I said, quickening my pace toward home; hell know what to do. But Milly, who, I fancy, had no objection to the little romance which the young officer proposed, told me that she could not see her father, that he was ill, and not speaking to anyone. And arnt ye making a plaguy row about nothin? I lay a guinea if ye had never set eyes on Lord Ilbury youd a told him to come, and see ye, an welcome. Dont talk like a fool, Milly. You never knew me do anything deceitful. Lord Ilbury has no more to do with it, you know very well, than the man in the moon. I was altogether very indignant. I did not speak another word to Milly. The proportions of the house are so great, that it is a much longer walk than you would suppose from the halldoor to Uncle Silass room. But I did not cool all that way; and it was not till I had just reached the lobby, and saw the sour, jealous face, and high caul of old Wyat, and felt the influence of that neighbourhood, that I paused to reconsider. I fancied there was a cool consciousness of success behind all the deferential phraseology of Captain Oakley, which nettled me extremely. No; there could be no doubt. I tapped softly at the door. What is it now, Miss? snarled the querulous old woman, with her shrivelled fingers on the doorhandle. Can I see my uncle for a moment? Hes tired, and not a word from him all day long. Not ill, though? Awful bad in the night, said the old crone, with a sudden savage glare in my face, as if I had brought it about. Oh! Im very sorry. I had not heard a word of it. No one does but old Wyat. Theres Milly there never asks neitherhis own child! Weakness, or what? One o them fits. Hell slide awa in one o them some day, and no one but old Wyat to know nor ask word about it; thats how twill be. Will you please hand him this note, if he is well enough to look at it, and say I am at the door? She took it with a peevish nod and a grunt, closing the door in my face, and in a few minutes returned Come in wi ye, said Dame Wyat, and I appeared. Uncle Silas, who, after his nightly horror or vision, lay extended on a sofa, with his faded yellow silk dressinggown about him, his long white hair hanging toward the ground, and that wild and feeble smile lighting his facea glimmer I feared to look uponhis long thin arms lay by his sides, with hands and fingers that stirred not, except when now and then, with a feeble motion, he wet his temples and forehead with eau de cologne from a glass saucer placed beside him.


Excellent girl! dutiful ward and niece! murmured the oracle; heaven reward youyour frank dealing is your own safety and my peace. Sit you down, and say who is this Captain Oakley, when you made his acquaintance, what his age, fortune, and expectations, and who the aunt he mentions. Upon all these points I satisfied him as fully as I was able. Wyatthe white drops, he called, in a thin, stern tone. Ill write a line presently. I cant see visitors, and, of course, you cant receive young captains before youve come out. Farewell! God bless you, dear. Wyat was dropping the white restorative into a wineglass and the room was redolent of ether. I was glad to escape. The figures and whole miseenscne were unearthly. Well, Milly, I said, as I met her in the hall, your papa is going to write to him. I sometimes wonder whether Milly was right, and how I should have acted a few months earlier. Next day whom should we meet in the Windmill Wood but Captain Oakley. The spot where this interesting rencontre occurred was near that ruinous bridge on my sketch of which I had received so many compliments. It was so great a surprise that I had not time to recollect my indignation, and, having received him very affably, I found it impossible, during our brief interview, to recover my lost altitude. After our greetings were over, and some compliments neatly made, he said I had such a curious note from Mr. Silas Ruthyn. I am sure he thinks me a very impertinent fellow, for it was really anything but invitingextremely rude, in fact. But I could not quite see that because he does not want me to invade his bedrooman incursion I never dreamed ofI was not to present myself to you, who had already honoured me with your acquaintance, with the sanction of those who were most interested in your welfare, and who were just as well qualified as he, I fancy, to say who were qualified for such an honour. My uncle, Mr. Silas Ruthyn, you are aware, is my guardian; and this is my cousin, his daughter. This was an opportunity of becoming a little lofty, and I improved it. He raised his hat and bowed to Milly. Im afraid Ive been very rude and stupid. Mr. Ruthyn, of course, has a perfect right totoin fact, I was not the least aware that I had the honour of so near a relationsaaand what exquisite scenery you have! I think this country round Feltram particularly fine; and this BartramHaugh is, I venture to say, about the very most beautiful spot in this beautiful region. I do assure you I am tempted beyond measure to make Feltram and the Hall Hotel my headquarters for at least a week. I only regret the foliage; but your trees show wonderfully, even in winter, so many of them have got that ivy about them. They say it spoils trees, but it certainly beautifies them. I have just ten days leave unexpired; I wish I could induce you to advise me how to apply them. What shall I do, Miss Ruthyn? I am the worst person in the world to make plans, even for myself, I find it so troublesome. What do you say? Suppose you try Wales or Scotland, and climb up some of those fine mountains that look so well in winter? I should much prefer Feltram. I so wish you would recommend it. What is this pretty plant? We call that Mauds myrtle. She planted it, and its very pretty when its full in blow, said Milly. Our visit to Elverston had been of immense use to us both. Oh! planted by you? he said, very softly, with a momentary corresponding glance. May Iever so littlejust a leaf? And without waiting for permission, he held a sprig of it next his waistcoat. Yes, it goes very prettily with those buttons. They are very pretty buttons; are not they, Milly? A present, a souvenir, I dare say? This was a terrible hit at the buttonmaker, and I thought he looked a little oddly at me, but my countenance was so bewitchingly simple that I suppose his suspicions were allayed. Now, it was very odd of me, I must confess, to talk in this way, and to receive all those tender allusions from a gentleman about whom I had spoken and felt so sharply only the evening before. But Bartram was abominably lonely. A civilised person was a valuable waif or stray in that region of the picturesque and the brutal; and to my lady reader especially, because she will probably be hardest upon me, I put itcan you not recollect any such folly in your own past life? Can you not in as many minutes call to mind at least six similar inconsistencies of your own practising? For my part, I really cant see the advantage of being the weaker sex if we are always to be as strong as our masculine neighbours. There was, indeed, no revival of the little sentiment which I had once experienced. When these things once expire, I do believe they are as hard to revive as our dead lapdogs, guineapigs, and parrots. It was my perfect coolness which enabled me to chat, I flatter myself, so agreeably with the refined Captain, who plainly thought me his captive, and was probably now and then thinking what was to be done to utilise that little bit of Bartram, or to beautify some other, when he should see fit to become its master, as we rambled over these wild but beautiful grounds. It was just about then that Milly nudged me rather vehemently, and whispered Look there! I followed with mine the direction of her eyes, and saw my odious cousin, Dudley, in a flagrant pair of crossbarred pegtops, and what Milly before her reformation used to call other slops of corresponding atrocity, approaching our refined little party with great strides. I really think that Milly was very nearly ashamed of him. I certainly was. I had no apprehension, however, of the scene which was imminent. The charming Captain mistook him probably for some rustic servant of the place, for he continued his agreeable remarks up to the very moment when Dudley, whose face was pale with anger, and whose rapid advance had not served to cool him, without recollecting to salute either Milly or me, accosted our elegant companion as follows By your leave, master, baint you summat in the wrong box here, dont you think? He had planted himself directly in his front, and looked unmistakably menacing. May I speak to him? Will you excuse me? said the Captain blandly. Oway, theyll excuse ye ready enough, I dessay; youre to deal wi me though. Baint ye in the wrong box now? Im not conscious, sir, of being in a box at all, replied the Captain, with severe disdain. It strikes me you are disposed to get up a row. Let us, if you please, get a little apart from the ladies if that is your purpose. I mean to turn you out o this the way ye came. If you make a row, so much the wuss for you, for Ill lick ye to fits. Tell him not to fight, whispered Milly; hell a no chance wi Dudley. I saw Dickon Hawkes grinning over the paling on which he leaned. Mr. Hawkes, I said, drawing Milly with me toward that unpromising mediator, pray prevent unpleasantness and go between them. An git licked o both sides? Rather not, Miss, thank ye, grinned Dickon, tranquilly. Who are you, sir? demanded our romantic acquaintance, with military sternness. Ill tell you who you areyoure Oakley, as stops at the Hall, that Governor wrote, overnight, not to dare show your nose inside the grounds. Youre a halfstarved cappen, come down here to look for a wife, and Before Dudley could finish his sentence, Captain Oakley, than whose face no regimentals could possibly have been more scarlet, at that moment, struck with his switch at Dudleys handsome features. I dont know how it was doneby some devilish cantrip slight. A smack was heard, and the Captain lay on his back on the ground, with his mouth full of blood. How do ye like the taste o that? roared Dickon, from his post of observation. In an instant Captain Oakley was on his feet again, hatless, looking quite frantic, and striking out at Dudley, who was ducking and dipping quite coolly, and again the same horrid sound, only this time it was double, like a quick postmans knock, and Captain Oakley was on the grass again. Tapped his smeller, by ! thundered Dickon, with a roar of laughter. Come away, MillyIm growing ill, said I. Drop it, Dudley, I tell ye; youll kill him, screamed Milly. But the devoted Captain, whose nose, and mouth, and shirtfront formed now but one great patch of blood, and who was bleeding beside over one eye, dashed at him again. I turned away. I felt quite faint, and on the point of crying, with mere horror. Hammer away at his knocker, bellowed Dickon, in a frenzy of delight. Hell break it now, if it aint already, cried Milly, alluding, as I afterwards understood, to the Captains Grecian nose. Brayvo, little un! The Captain was considerably the taller. Another smack, and, I suppose, Captain Oakley fell once more. Hooray! the dinnerservice again, by , roared Dickon. Stick to that. Over the same groundsubsoil, I say. He hant enough yet. In a perfect tremor of disgust, I was making as quick a retreat as I could, and as I did, I heard Captain Oakley shriek hoarsely Youre a d prizefighter; I cant box you. I told ye Id lick ye to fits, hooted Dudley. But youre the son of a gentleman, and by  you shall fight me as a gentleman. A yell of hooting laughter from Dudley and Dickon followed this sally. Gie my love to the Colonel, and think o me when ye look in the glasswont ye? An so youre goin arter all; well, follow whats left o yer nose. Ye forgot some o yer ivories, didnt ye, on th grass? These and many similar jibes followed the mangled Captain in his retreat. XII Doctor Bryerly Reappears No one who has not experienced it can imagine the nervous disgust and horror which such a spectacle as we had been forced in part to witness leaves upon the mind of a young person of my peculiar temperament. It affected ever after my involuntary estimate of the principal actors in it. An exhibition of such thorough inferiority, accompanied by such a shock to the feminine sense of elegance, is not forgotten by any woman. Captain Oakley had been severely beaten by a smaller man. It was pitiable, but also undignified; and Millys anxieties about his teeth and nose, though in a certain sense horrible, had also a painful suspicion of the absurd. People say, on the other hand, that superior prowess, even in such barbarous contests, inspires in our sex an interest akin to admiration. I can positively say in my case it was quite the reverse. Dudley Ruthyn stood lower than ever in my estimation; for though I feared him more, it was by reason of these brutal and coldblooded associations. After this I lived in constant apprehension of being summoned to my uncles room, and being called on for an explanation of my meeting with Captain Oakley, which, notwithstanding my perfect innocence, looked suspicious, but no such inquisition resulted. Perhaps he did not suspect me; or, perhaps, he thought, not in his haste, all women are liars, and did not care to hear what I might say. I rather lean to the latter interpretation. The exchequer just now, I suppose, by some means, was replenished, for next morning Dudley set off upon one of his fashionable excursions, as poor Milly thought them, to Wolverhampton. And the same day Dr. Bryerly arrived. Milly and I, from my room window, saw him step from his vehicle to the courtyard. A lean man, with sandy hair and whiskers, was in the chaise with him. Dr. Bryerly descended in the unchangeable black suit that always looked new and never fitted him. The Doctor looked careworn, and older, I thought, by several years, than when I last saw him. He was not shown up to my uncles room; on the contrary, Milly, who was more actively curious than I, ascertained that our tremulous butler informed him that my uncle was not sufficiently well for an interview. Whereupon Dr. Bryerly had pencilled a note, the reply to which was a message from Uncle Silas, saying that he would be happy to see him in five minutes. As Milly and I were conjecturing what it might mean, and before the five minutes had expired, Mary Quince entered. Wyat bid me tell you, Miss, your uncle wants you this minute. When I entered his room, Uncle Silas was seated at the table, with his desk before him. He looked up. Could anything be more dignified, suffering, and venerable? I sent for you, dear, he said very gently, extending his thin, white hand, and taking mine, which he held affectionately while he spoke, because I desire to have no secrets, and wish you thoroughly to know all that concerns your own interests while subject to my guardianship; and I am happy to think, my beloved niece, that you requite my candour. Oh, here is the gentleman. Sit down, dear. Doctor Bryerly was advancing, as it seemed, to shake hands with Uncle Silas, who, however, rose with a severe and haughty air, not the least overacted, and made him a slow, ceremonious bow. I wondered how the homely Doctor could confront so tranquilly that astounding statue of hauteur. A faint and weary smile, rather sad than comtemptuous, was the only sign he showed of feeling his repulse. How do you do, Miss? he said, extending his hand, and greeting me after his ungallant fashion, as if it were an afterthought. I think I may as well take a chair, sir, said Doctor Bryerly, sitting down serenely, near the table, and crossing his ungainly legs. My uncle bowed. You understand the nature of the business, sir. Do you wish Miss Ruthyn to remain? asked Doctor Bryerly. I sent for her, sir, replied my uncle, in a very gentle and sarcastic tone, a smile on his thin lips, and his strangelycontorted eyebrows raised for a moment contemptuously. This gentleman, my dear Maud, thinks proper to insinuate that I am robbing you. It surprises me a little, and, no doubt, youIve nothing to conceal, and wished you to be present while he favours me more particularly with his views. Im right, I think, in describing it as robbery, sir? Why, said Doctor Bryerly thoughtfully, for he was treating the matter as one of right, and not of feeling, it would be, certainly, taking that which does not belong to you, and converting it to your own use; but, at the worst, it would more resemble thieving, I think, than robbery. I saw Uncle Silass lip, eyelid, and thin cheek quiver and shrink, as if with a thrill of ticdouloureux, as Doctor Bryerly spoke this unconsciously insulting answer. My uncle had, however, the selfcommand which is learned at the gamingtable. He shrugged, with a chilly, sarcastic, little laugh, and a glance at me. Your note says waste, I think, sir? Yes, wastethe felling and sale of timber in the Windmill Wood, the selling of oak bark and burning of charcoal, as Im informed, said Bryerly, as sadly and quietly as a man might relate a piece of intelligence from the newspaper. Detectives? or private spies of your ownor, perhaps, my servants, bribed with my poor brothers money? A very highminded procedure. Nothing of the kind, sir. My uncle sneered. I mean, sir, there has been no undue canvass for evidence, and the question is simply one of right; and it is our duty to see that this inexperienced young lady is not defrauded. By her own uncle? By anyone, said Doctor Bryerly, with a natural impenetrability that excited my admiration. Of course you come armed with an opinion? said my smiling uncle, insinuatingly. The case is before Mr. Serjeant Grinders. These bigwigs dont return their cases sometimes so quickly as we could wish. Then you have no opinion? smiled my uncle. My solicitor is quite clear upon it; and it seems to me there can be no question raised, but for forms sake. Yes, for forms sake you take one, and in the meantime, upon a nice question of law, the surmises of a thickheaded attorney and of an ingenious apothI beg pardon, physicianare sufficient warrant for telling my niece and ward, in my presence, that I am defrauding her! My uncle leaned back in his chair, and smiled with a contemptuous patience over Doctor Bryerlys head, as he spoke. I dont know whether I used that expression, sir, but I am speaking merely in a technical sense. I mean to say, that, whether by mistake or otherwise, you are exercising a power which you dont lawfully possess, and that the effect of that is to impoverish the estate, and, by so much as it benefits you, to wrong this young lady. Im a technical defrauder, I see, and your manner conveys the rest. I thank my God, sir, I am a very different man from what I once was. Uncle Silas was speaking in a low tone, and with extraordinary deliberation. I remember when I should have certainly knocked you down, sir, or tried it, at least, for a great deal less. But seriously, sir, what do you propose? asked Doctor Bryerly, sternly and a little flushed, for I think the old man was stirred within him; and though he did not raise his voice, his manner was excited. I propose to defend my rights, sir, murmured Uncle Silas, very grim. Im not without an opinion, though you are. You seem to think, sir, that I have a pleasure in annoying you; you are quite wrong. I hate annoying anyoneconstitutionallyI hate it; but dont you see, sir, the position Im placed in? I wish I could please everyone, and do my duty. Uncle Silas bowed and smiled. Ive brought with me the Scotch steward from Tolkingden, your estate, Miss, and if you let us we will visit the spot and make a note of what we observe, that is, assuming that you admit waste, and merely question our law. If you please, sir, you and your Scotchman shall do no such thing; and, bearing in mind that I neither deny nor admit anything, you will please further never more to present yourself, under any pretext whatsoever, either in this house or on the grounds of BartramHaugh, during my lifetime. Uncle Silas rose up with the same glassy smile and scowl, in token that the interview was ended. Goodbye, sir, said Doctor Bryerly, with a sad and thoughtful air, and hesitating for a moment, he said to me, Do you think, Miss, you could afford me a word in the hall? Not a word, sir, snarled Uncle Silas, with a white flash from his eyes. There was a pause. Sit where you are, Maud. Another pause. If you have anything to say to my ward, sir, you will please to say it here. Doctor Bryerlys dark and homely face was turned on me with an expression of unspeakable compassion. I was going to say, that if you think of any way in which I can be of the least service, Miss, Im ready to act, thats all; mind, any way. He hesitated, looking at me with the same expression as if he had something more to say; but he only repeated Thats all, Miss. Wont you shake hands, Doctor Bryerly, before you go? I said, eagerly approaching him. Without a smile, with the same sad anxiety in his face, with his mind, as it seemed to me, on something else, and irresolute whether to speak it or be silent, he took my fingers in a very cold hand, and holding it so, and slowly shaking it, his grave and troubled glance unconsciously rested on Uncle Silass face, while in a sad tone and absent way he said Goodbye, Miss. From before that sad gaze my uncle averted his strange eyes quickly, and looked, oddly, to the window. In a moment more Doctor Bryerly let my hand go with a sigh, and with an abrupt little nod to me, he left the room; and I heard that dismallest of sounds, the retreating footsteps of a true friend, lost. Lead us not into temptation; if we pray so, we must not mock the eternal Majesty of Heaven by walking into temptation of our own accord. This oracular sentence was not uttered by my uncle until Doctor Bryerly had been gone at least five minutes. Ive forbid him my house, Maudfirst, because his perfectly unconscious insolence tries my patience nearly beyond endurance; and again, because I have heard unfavourable reports of him. On the question of right which he disputes, I am perfectly informed. I am your tenant, my dear niece; when I am gone you will learn how scrupulous I have been; you will see how, under the pressure of the most agonising pecuniary difficulties, the terrific penalty of a misspent youth, I have been careful never by a hairs breadth to transgress the strict line of my legal privileges; alike, as your tenant, Maud, and as your guardian; how, amid frightful agitations, I have kept myself, by the miraculous strength and grace vouchsafed mepure. The world, he resumed after a short pause, has no faith in any mans conversion; it never forgets what he was, it never believes him anything better, it is an inexorable and stupid judge. What I was I will describe in blacker terms, and with more heartfelt detestation, than my traducersa reckless prodigal, a godless profligate. Such I was; what I am, I am. If I had no hope beyond this world, of all men most miserable; but with that hope, a sinner saved. Then he waxed eloquent and mystical. I think his Swedenborgian studies had crossed his notions of religion with strange lights. I never could follow him quite in these excursions into the region of symbolism. I only recollect that he talked of the deluge and the waters of Mara, and said, I am washedI am sprinkled, and then, pausing, bathed his thin temples and forehead with eau de cologne; a process which was, perhaps, suggested by his imagery of sprinkling and so forth. Thus refreshed, he sighed and smiled, and passed to the subject of Doctor Bryerly. Of Doctor Bryerly, I know that he is sly, that he loves money, was born poor, and makes nothing by his profession. But he possesses many thousand pounds, under my poor brothers will, of your money; and he has glided with, of course a modest nolo episcopari, into the acting trusteeship, with all its multitudinous opportunities, of your immense property. That is not doing so badly for a visionary Swedenborgian. Such a man must prosper. But if he expected to make money of me, he is disappointed. Money, however, he will make of his trusteeship, as you will see. It is a dangerous resolution. But if he will seek the life of Dives, the worst I wish him is to find the death of Lazarus. But whether, like Lazarus, he be borne of angels into Abrahams bosom, or, like the rich man, only dies and is buried, and the rest, neither living nor dying do I desire his company. Uncle Silas here seemed suddenly overtaken by exhaustion. He leaned back with a ghastly look, and his lean features glistened with the dew of faintness. I screamed for Wyat. But he soon recovered sufficiently to smile his odd smile, and with it and his frown, nodded and waved me away. XIII Question and Answer My uncle, after all, was not ill that day, after the strange fashion of his malady, be it what it might. Old Wyat repeated in her sour laconic way that there was nothing to speak of amiss with him. But there remained with me a sense of pain and fear. Doctor Bryerly, notwithstanding my uncles sarcastic reflections, remained, in my estimation, a true and wise friend. I had all my life been accustomed to rely upon others, and here, haunted by many unavowed and illdefined alarms and doubts, the disappearance of an active and able friend caused my heart to sink. Still there remained my dear Cousin Monica, and my pleasant and trusted friend, Lord Ilbury; and in less than a week arrived an invitation from Lady Mary to the Grange, for me and Milly, to meet Lady Knollys. It was accompanied, she told me, by a note from Lord Ilbury to my uncle, supporting her request; and in the afternoon I received a message to attend my uncle in his room. An invitation from Lady Mary Carysbroke for you and Milly to meet Monica Knollys; have you received it? asked my uncle, so soon as I was seated. Answered in the affirmative, he continued Now, Maud Ruthyn, I expect the truth from you; I have been frank, so shall you. Have you ever heard me spoken ill of by Lady Knollys? I was quite taken aback. I felt my cheeks flushing. I was returning his fierce cold gaze with a stupid stare, and remained dumb. Yes, Maud, you have. I looked down in silence. I know it; but it is right you should answer; have you or have you not? I had to clear my voice twice or thrice. There was a kind of spasm in my throat. I am trying to recollect, I said at last. Do recollect, he replied imperiously. There was a little interval of silence. I would have given the world to be, on any conditions, anywhere else in the world. Surely, Maud, you dont wish to deceive your guardian? Come, the question is a plain one, and I know the truth already. I ask you againhave you ever heard me spoken ill of by Lady Knollys? Lady Knollys, I said, half articulately, speaks very freely, and often half in jest; but, I continued, observing something menacing in his face, I have heard her express disapprobation of some things you have done. Come, Maud, he continued, in a stern, though still a low key, did she not insinuate that chargethen, I suppose, in a state of incubation, the other day presented here fullfledged, with beak and claws, by that scheming apothecarythe statement that I was defrauding you by cutting down timber upon the grounds? She certainly did mention the circumstance; but she also argued that it might have been through ignorance of the extent of your rights. Come, come, Maud, you must not prevaricate, girl. I will have it. Does she not habitually speak disparagingly of me, in your presence, and to you? Answer. I hung my head. Yes or no? Well, perhaps soyes, I faltered, and burst into tears. There, dont cry; it may well shock you. Did she not, to your knowledge, say the same things in presence of my child Millicent? I know it, I repeatthere is no use in hesitating; and I command you to answer. Sobbing, I told the truth. Now sit still, while I write my reply. He wrote, with the scowl and smile so painful to witness, as he looked down upon the paper, and then he placed the note before me Read that, my dear. It began My Dear Lady Knollys, You have favoured me with a note, adding your request to that of Lord Ilbury, that I should permit my ward and my daughter to avail themselves of Lady Marys invitation. Being perfectly cognisant of the illfeeling you have always and unaccountably cherished toward me, and also of the terms in which you have had the delicacy and the conscience to speak of me before and to my child and my ward, I can only express my amazement at the modesty of your request, while peremptorily refusing it. And I shall conscientiously adopt effectual measures to prevent your ever again having an opportunity of endeavouring to destroy my influence and authority over my ward and my child, by direct or insinuated slander. Your defamed and injured kinsman, Silas Ruthyn. I was stunned; yet what could I plead against the blow that was to isolate me? I wept aloud, with my hands clasped, looking on the marble face of the old man. Without seeming to hear, he folded and sealed his note, and then proceeded to answer Lord Ilbury. When that note was written, he placed it likewise before me, and I read it also through. It simply referred him to Lady Knollys for an explanation of the unhappy circumstances which compelled him to decline an invitation which it would have made his niece and his daughter so happy to accept. You see, my dear Maud, how frank I am with you, he said, waving the open note, which I had just read, slightly before he folded it. I think I may ask you to reciprocate my candour. Dismissed from this interview, I ran to Milly, who burst into tears from sheer disappointment, so we wept and wailed together. But in my grief I think there was more reason. I sat down to the dismal task of writing to my dear Lady Knollys. I implored her to make her peace with my uncle. I told her how frank he had been with me, and how he had shown me his sad reply to her letter. I told her of the interview to which he had himself invited me with Dr. Bryerly; how little disturbed he was by the accusationno sign of guilt; quite the contrary, perfect confidence. I implored of her to think the best, and remembering my isolation, to accomplish a reconciliation with Uncle Silas. Only think, I wrote, I only nineteen, and two years of solitude before me. What a separation! No broken merchant ever signed the schedule of his bankruptcy with a heavier heart than did I this letter. The griefs of youth are like the wounds of the godsthere is an ichor which heals the scars from which it flows and thus Milly and I consoled ourselves, and next day enjoyed our ramble, our talk and readings, with a wonderful resignation to the inevitable. Milly and I stood in the relation of Lord Duberly to Doctor Pangloss. I was to mend her cackleology, and the occupation amused us both. I think at the bottom of our submission to destiny lurked a hope that Uncle Silas, the inexorable, would relent, or that Cousin Monica, that siren, would win and melt him to her purpose. Whatever comfort, however, I derived from the absence of Dudley was not to be of very long duration; for one morning, as I was amusing myself alone, with a piece of worsted work, thinking, and just at that moment not unpleasantly, of many things, my cousin Dudley entered the room. Back again, like a bad halfpenny, ye see. And how a ye bin ever since, lass? Purely, I warrant, be your looks. Im jolly glad to see ye, I am; no cattle going like ye, Maud. I think I must ask you to let go my hand, as I cant continue my work, I said, very stiffly, hoping to chill his enthusiasm a little. Anything to pleasure ye, Maud, taint in my heart to refuse ye nout. I abin to Wolverhampton, lassjolly row thereand run over to Leamington; amost broke my neck, faith, wi a borrowed horse arter the dogs; ye would na care, Maud, if I broke my neck, would ye? Well, appen, jest a little, he goodnaturedly supplied, as I was silent. Little over a week since I left here, by George; and to me its half the almanac like; can ye guess the reason, Maud? Have you seen your sister, Milly, or your father, since your return? I asked coldly. Theyll keep, Maud, never mind em; it be you I want to seeit be you I wor thinkin on a the time. I tell ye, lass, Im allays a thinkin on ye. I think you ought to go and see your father; you have been away, you say, some time. I dont think it is respectful, I said, a little sharply. If ye bid me go Id amost go, but I could na quite; theres nout on earth I would na do for you, Maud, excep leaving you. And that, I said, with a petulant flush, is the only thing on earth I would ask you to do. Blessed if you baint a blushin, Maud, he drawled, with an odious grin. His stupidity was proof against everything. It is too bad! I muttered, with an indignant little pat of my foot and mimic stamp. Well, you lasses be queer cattle; yere angry wi me now, cos ye think I got into mischiefye do, Maud; ye know t, ye buxsom little fool, down there at Wolverhampton; and jest for that yere ready to turn me off again the minute I come back; tisnt fair. I dont understand you, sir; and I beg that youll leave me. Now, didnt I tell ye about leavin ye, Maud? tis the only thing I cant compass for yer sake. Im jest a child in yere hands, I am, ye know. I can lick a big fellah to pot as limp as a rag, by George!(his oaths were not really so mild)ye see summat o that tother day. Well, dont be vexed, Maud; twas all along o you; ye know, I wor a bit jealous, appen; but anyhow I can do it; and look at me here, jest a child, I say, in yer hands. I wish youd go away. Have you nothing to do, and no one to see? Why cant you leave me alone, sir?  Cos I cant, Maud, thats jest why; and I wonder, Maud, how can you be so illnatured, when you see me like this; how can ye? I wish Milly would come, said I peevishly, looking toward the door. Well, Ill tell you how it is, Maud. I may as well have it out. I like you better than any lass that ever I saw, a deal; youre nicer by chalks; theres none like yethere isnt; and I wish youd have me. I hant much tinfathers run through a deal, hes pretty well up a tree, ye know; but though I baint so rich as some folk, Im a better man, appen; and if yed take a tidy lad, that likes ye awful, and id die for your sake, why here he is.


What can you mean, sir? I exclaimed, rising in indignant bewilderment. I mean, Maud, if yell marry me, youll never ha cause to complain; Ill never let ye want for nout, nor gie ye a wry word. Actually a proposal! I ejaculated, like a person speaking in a dream. I stood with my hand on the back of a chair, staring at Dudley; and looking, I dare say, as stupefied as I felt. Theres a good lass, ye would na deny me, said the odious creature, with one knee on the seat of the chair behind which I was standing, and attempting to place his arm lovingly round my neck. This effectually roused me, and starting back, I stamped upon the ground with actual fury. What has there ever been, sir, in my conduct, words, or looks, to warrant this unparalleled audacity? But that you are as stupid as you are impertinent, brutal, and ugly, you must, long ago, sir, have seen how I dislike you. How dare you, sir? Dont presume to obstruct me; Im going to my uncle. I had never spoken so violently to mortal before. He in turn looked a little confounded; and I passed his extended but motionless arm with a quick and angry step. He followed me a pace or two, however, before I reached the door, looking horridly angry, but stopped, and only swore after me some of those wry words which I was never to have heard. I was myself, however, too much incensed, and moving at too rapid a pace, to catch their import; and I had knocked at my uncles door before I began to collect my thoughts. Come in, replied my uncles voice, clear, thin, and peevish. I entered and confronted him. Your son, sir, has insulted me. He looked at me with a cold curiosity steadly for a few seconds, as I stood panting before him with flaming cheeks. Insulted you? repeated he. Egad, you surprise me! The ejaculation savoured of the old man, to borrow his scriptural phrase, more than anything I had heard from him before. How? he continued; how has Dudley insulted you, my dear child? Come, youre excited; sit down; take time, and tell me all about it. I did not know that Dudley was here. Iheit is an insult. He knew very wellhe must know I dislike him; and he presumed to make a proposal of marriage to me. Oooh! exclaimed my uncle, with a prolonged intonation which plainly said, Is that the mighty matter? He looked at me as he leaned back with the same steady curiosity, this time smiling, which somehow frightened me, and his countenance looked to me wicked, like the face of a witch, with a guilt I could not understand. And that is the amount of your complaint. He made you a formal proposal of marriage! Yes; he proposed for me. As I cooled, I began to feel just a very little disconcerted, and a suspicion was troubling me that possibly an indifferent person might think that, having no more to complain of, my language was perhaps a little exaggerated, and my demeanour a little too tempestuous. My uncle, I dare say, saw some symptoms of this misgiving, for, smiling still, he said My dear Maud, however just, you appear to me a little cruel; you dont seem to remember how much you are yourself to blame; you have one faithful friend at least, whom I advise your consultingI mean your lookingglass. The foolish fellow is young, quite ignorant in the worlds ways. He is in lovedesperately enamoured  Aimer cest craindre, et craindre cest souffrir. And suffering prompts to desperate remedies. We must not be too hard on a rough but romantic young fool, who talks according to his folly and his pain. XIV An Apparition But, after all, he suddenly resumed, as if a new thought had struck him, is it quite such folly, after all? It really strikes me, dear Maud, that the subject may be worth a second thought. No, no, you wont refuse to hear me, he said, observing me on the point of protesting. I am, of course, assuming that you are fancy free. I am assuming, too, that you dont care twopence about Dudley, and even that you fancy you dislike him. You know in that pleasant play, poor Sheridandelightful fellow!all our fine spirits are deadhe makes Mrs. Malaprop say there is nothing like beginning with a little aversion. Now, though in matrimony, of course, that is only a joke, yet in love, believe me, it is no such thing. His own marriage with Miss Ogle, I know, was a case in point. She expressed a positive horror of him at their first acquaintance; and yet, I believe, she would, a few months later, have died rather than not have married him. I was again about to speak, but with a smile he beckoned me into silence. There are two or three points you must bear in mind. One of the happiest privileges of your fortune is that you may, without imprudence, marry simply for love. There are few men in England who could offer you an estate comparable with that you already possess; or, in fact, appreciably increase the splendour of your fortune. If, therefore, he were in all other respects eligible, I cant see that his poverty would be an objection to weigh for one moment. He is quite a rough diamond. He has been, like many young men of the highest rank, too much given up to athletic sportsto that society which constitutes the aristocracy of the ring and the turf, and all that kind of thing. You see, I am putting all the worst points first. But I have known so many young men in my day, after a madcap career of a few years among prizefighters, wrestlers, and jockeyslearning their slang and affecting their mannerstake up and cultivate the graces and the decencies. There was poor dear Newgate, many degrees lower in that kind of frolic, who, when he grew tired of it, became one of the most elegant and accomplished men in the House of Peers. Poor Newgate, hes gone, too! I could reckon up fifty of my early friends who all began like Dudley, and all turned out, more or less, like Newgate. At this moment came a knock at the door, and Dudley put in his head most inopportunely for the vision of his future graces and accomplishments. My good fellow, said his father, with a sharp sort of playfulness, I happen to be talking about my son, and should rather not be overheard; you will, therefore, choose another time for your visit. Dudley hesitated gruffly at the door, but another look from his father dismissed him. And now, my dear, you are to remember that Dudley has fine qualitiesthe most affectionate son in his rough way that ever father was blessed with; most admirable qualitiesindomitable courage, and a high sense of honour; and lastly, that he has the Ruthyn bloodthe purest blood, I maintain it, in England. My uncle, as he said this, drew himself up a little, unconsciously, his thin hand laid lightly over his heart with a little patting motion, and his countenance looked so strangely dignified and melancholy, that in admiring contemplation of it I lost some sentences which followed next. Therefore, dear, naturally anxious that my boy should not be dismissed from homeas he must be, should you persevere in rejecting his suitI beg that you will reserve your decision to this day fortnight, when I will with much pleasure hear what you may have to say on the subject. But till then, observe me, not a word. That evening he and Dudley were closeted for a long time. I suspect that he lectured him on the psychology of ladies; for a bouquet was laid beside my plate every morning at breakfast, which it must have been troublesome to get, for the conservatory at Bartram was a desert. In a few days more an anonymous green parrot arrived, in a gilt cage, with a little note in a clerks hand, addressed to Miss Ruthyn (of Knowl), BartramHaugh, etc. It contained only Directions for caring green parrot, at the close of which, underlined, the words appearedThe birds name is Maud. The bouquets I invariably left on the tablecloth, where I found themthe bird I insisted on Millys keeping as her property. During the intervening fortnight Dudley never appeared, as he used sometimes to do before, at luncheon, nor looked in at the window as we were at breakfast. He contented himself with one day placing himself in my way in the hall in his shooting accoutrements, and, with a clumsy, shuffling kind of respect, and hat in hand, he said I think, Miss, I must a spoke uncivil tother day. I was so awful put about, and didnt know no more nor a child what I was saying; and I wanted to tell ye Im sorry for it, and I beg your pardonvery humble, I do. I did not know what to say. I therefore said nothing, but made a grave inclination, and passed on. Two or three times Milly and I saw him at a little distance in our walks. He never attempted to join us. Once only he passed so near that some recognition was inevitable, and he stopped and in silence lifted his hat with an awkward respect. But although he did not approach us, he was ostentatious with a kind of telegraphic civility in the distance. He opened gates, he whistled his dogs to heel, he drove away cattle, and then himself withdrew. I really think he watched us occasionally to render these services, for in this distant way we encountered him decidedly oftener than we used to do before his flattering proposal of marriage. You may be sure that we discussed, Milly and I, that occurrence pretty constantly in all sorts of moods. Limited as had been her experience of human society, she very clearly saw now how far below its presentable level was her hopeful brother. The fortnight sped swiftly, as time always does when something we dislike and shrink from awaits us at its close. I never saw Uncle Silas during that period. It may seem odd to those who merely read the report of our last interview, in which his manner had been more playful and his talk more trifling than in any other, that from it I had carried away a profounder sense of fear and insecurity than from any other. It was with a foreboding of evil and an awful dejection that on a very dark day, in Millys room, I awaited the summons which I was sure would reach me from my punctual guardian. As I looked from the window upon the slanting rain and leaden sky, and thought of the hated interview that awaited me, I pressed my hand to my troubled heart, and murmured, O that I had wings like a dove! then would I flee away, and be at rest. Just then the prattle of the parrot struck my ear. I looked round on the wire cage, and remembered the words, The birds name is Maud. Poor bird! I said. I dare say, Milly, it longs to get out. If it were a native of this country, would not you like to open the window, and then the door of that cruel cage, and let the poor thing fly away? Master wants Miss Maud, said Wyats disagreeable tones, at the halfopen door. I followed in silence, with the pressure of a near alarm at my heart, like a person going to an operation. When I entered the room, my heart beat so fast that I could hardly speak. The tall form of Uncle Silas rose before me, and I made him a faltering reverence. He darted from under his brows a wild, fierce glance at old Wyat, and pointed to the door imperiously with his skeleton finger. The door shut, and we were alone. A chair? he said, pointing to a seat. Thank you, uncle, I prefer standing, I faltered. He also stoodhis white head bowed forward, the phosphoric glare of his strange eyes shone upon me from under his browshis fingernails just rested on the table. You saw the luggage corded and addressed, as it stands ready for removal in the hall? he asked. I had. Milly and I had read the cards which dangled from the trunkhandles and guncase. The address wasMr. Dudley R. Ruthyn, Paris, via Dover. I am oldagitatedon the eve of a decision on which much depends. Pray relieve my suspense. Is my son to leave Bartram today in sorrow, or to remain in joy? Pray answer quickly. I stammered I know not what. I was incoherentwild, perhaps; but somehow I expressed my meaningmy unalterable decision. I thought his lips grew whiter and his eyes shone brighter as I spoke. When I had quite made an end, he heaved a great sigh, and turning his eyes slowly to the right and the left, like a man in a helpless distraction, he whispered Gods will be done. I thought he was upon the point of faintinga clay tint darkened the white of his face; and, seeming to forget my presence, he sat down, looking with a despairing scowl on his ashy old hand, as it lay upon the table. I stood gazing at him, feeling almost as if I had murdered the old manhe still gazing askance, with an imbecile scowl, upon his hand. Shall I go, sir? I at length found courage to whisper. Go? he said, looking up suddenly; and it seemed to me as if a stream of cold sheetlightning had crossed and enveloped me for a moment. Go?oh!ayesyes, Maudgo. I must see poor Dudley before his departure, he added, as it were, in soliloquy. Trembling lest he should revoke his permission to depart, I glided quickly and noiselessly from the room. Old Wyat was prowling outside, with a cloth in her hand, pretending to dust the carved doorcase. She frowned a stare of enquiry over her shrunken arm on me, as I passed. Milly, who had been on the watch, ran and met me. We heard my uncles voice, as I shut the door, calling Dudley. He had been waiting, probably, in the adjoining room. I hurried into my chamber, with Milly at my side, and there my agitation found relief in tears, as that of girlhood naturally does. A little while after we saw from the window Dudley, looking, I thought, very pale, get into a vehicle, on the top of which his luggage lay, and drive away from Bartram. I began to take comfort. His departure was an inexpressible relief. His final departure! a distant journey! We had tea in Millys room that night. Firelight and candles are inspiring. In that red glow I always felt and feel more safe, as well as more comfortable, than in the daylightquite irrationally, for we know the night is the appointed day of such as love the darkness better than light, and evil walks thereby. But so it is. Perhaps the very consciousness of external danger enhances the enjoyment of the welllighted interior, just as the storm does that roars and hurtles over the roof. While Milly and I were talking, very cosily, a knock came to the roomdoor, and, without waiting for an invitation to enter, old Wyat came in, and glowering at us, with her brown claw upon the doorhandle, she said to Milly Ye must leave your funnin, Miss Milly, and take your turn in your fathers room. Is he ill? I asked. She answered, addressing not me, but Milly A wrought two hours in a fit arter Master Dudley went. Twill be the death o him, Im thinkin, poor old fellah. I wor sorry myself when I saw Master Dudley a going off in the moist today, poor fellah. Theres trouble enough in the family without a that; but twont be a family long, Im thinkin. Nout but trouble, nout but trouble, since late changes came. Judging by the sour glance she threw on me as she said this, I concluded that I represented those late changes to which all the sorrows of the house were referred. I felt unhappy under the illwill even of this odious old woman, being one of those unhappily constructed mortals who cannot be indifferent when they reasonably ought, and always yearn after kindness, even that of the worthless. I must go. I wish youd come wi me, Maud, Im so afraid all alone, said Milly, imploringly. Certainly, Milly, I answered, not liking it, you may be sure; you shant sit there alone. So together we went, old Wyat cautioning us for our lives to make no noise. We passed through the old mans sittingroom, where that day had occurred his brief but momentous interview with me, and his parting with his only son, and entered the bedroom at the farther end. A low fire burned in the grate. The room was in a sort of twilight. A dim lamp near the foot of the bed at the farther side was the only light burning there. Old Wyat whispered an injunction not to speak above our breaths, nor to leave the fireside unless the sick man called or showed signs of weariness. These were the directions of the doctor, who had been there. So Milly and I sat ourselves down near the hearth, and old Wyat left us to our resources. We could hear the patient breathe; but he was quite still. In whispers we talked; but our conversation flagged. I was, after my wont, upbraiding myself for the suffering I had inflicted. After about half an hours desultory whispering, and intervals, growing longer and longer, of silence, it was plain that Milly was falling asleep. She strove against it, and I tried hard to keep her talking; but it would not dosleep overcame her; and I was the only person in that ghastly room in a state of perfect consciousness. There were associations connected with my last vigil there to make my situation very nervous and disagreeable. Had I not had so much to occupy my mind of a distinctly practical kindDudleys audacious suit, my uncles questionable toleration of it, and my own conduct throughout that most disagreeable period of my existenceI should have felt my present situation a great deal more. As it was, I thought of my real troubles, and something of Cousin Knollys, and, I confess, a good deal of Lord Ilbury. When looking towards the door, I thought I saw a human face, about the most terrible my fancy could have called up, looking fixedly into the room. It was only a threequarter, and not the whole figurethe door hid that in a great measure, and I fancied I saw, too, a portion of the fingers. The face gazed toward the bed, and in the imperfect light looked like a livid mask, with chalky eyes. I had so often been startled by similar apparitions formed by accidental lights and shadows disguising homely objects, that I stooped forward, expecting, though tremulously, to see this tremendous one in like manner dissolve itself into its harmless elements; and now, to my unspeakable terror, I became perfectly certain that I saw the countenance of Madame de la Rougierre. With a cry, I started back, and shook Milly furiously from her trance. Look! look! I cried. But the apparition or illusion was gone. I clung so fast to Millys arm, cowering behind her, that she could not rise. Milly! Milly! Milly! Milly! I went on crying, like one struck with idiotcy, and unable to say anything else. In a panic, Milly, who had seen nothing, and could conjecture nothing of the cause of my terror, jumped up, and clinging to one another, we huddled together into the corner of the room, I still crying wildly, Milly! Milly! Milly! and nothing else. What is itwhere is itwhat do you see? cried Milly, clinging to me as I did to her. It will come again; it will come; oh, heaven! Whatwhat is it, Maud? The face! the face! I cried. Oh, Milly! Milly! Milly! We heard a step softly approaching the open door, and, in a horrible sauve qui peut, we rushed and stumbled together toward the light by Uncle Silass bed. But old Wyats voice and figure reassured us. Milly, I said, so soon as, pale and very faint, I reached my apartment, no power on earth shall ever tempt me to enter that room again after dark. Why, Maud dear, what, in Heavens name, did you see? said Milly, scarcely less terrified. Oh, I cant; I cant; I cant, Milly. Never ask me. It is haunted. The room is haunted horribly. Was it Charke? whispered Milly, looking over her shoulder, all aghast. No, nodont ask me; a fiend in a worse shape. I was relieved at last by a long fit of weeping; and all night good Mary Quince sat by me, and Milly slept by my side. Starting and screaming, and drugged with salvolatile, I got through that night of supernatural terror, and saw the blessed light of heaven again. Doctor Jolks, when he came to see my uncle in the morning, visited me also. He pronounced me very hysterical, made minute enquiries respecting my hours and diet, asked what I had had for dinner yesterday. There was something a little comforting in his cool and confident poohpoohing of the ghost theory. The result was, a regimen which excluded tea, and imposed chocolate and porter, earlier hours, and I forget all beside; and he undertook to promise that, if I would but observe his directions, I should never see a ghost again. XV Millys Farewell A few days time saw me much better. Doctor Jolks was so contemptuously sturdy and positive on the point, that I began to have comfortable doubts about the reality of my ghost; and having still a horror indescribable of the illusion, if such it were, the room in which it appeared, and everything concerning it, I would neither speak, nor, so far as I could, think of it. So, though BartramHaugh was gloomy as well as beautiful, and some of its associations awful, and the solitude that reigned there sometimes almost terrible, yet early hours, bracing exercise, and the fine air that predominates that region, soon restored my nerves to a healthier tone. But it seemed to me that BartramHaugh was to be to me a vale of tears; or rather, in my sad pilgrimage, that valley of the shadow of death through which poor Christian fared alone and in the dark. One day Milly ran into the parlour, pale, with wet cheeks, and, without saying a word, threw her arms about my neck, and burst into a paroxysm of weeping. What is it, Millywhats the matter, dearwhat is it? I cried aghast, but returning her close embrace heartily. Oh! MaudMaud darling, hes going to send me away. Away, dear! where away? And leave me alone in this dreadful solitude, where he knows I shall die of fear and grief without you? Oh! nono, it must be a mistake. Im going to France, MaudIm going away. Mrs. Jolks is going to London, day arter tomorrow, and Im to go wi her; and an old French lady, he says, from the school will meet me there, and bring me the rest o the way. Ohhohohohoooo! cried poor Milly, hugging me closer still, with her head buried in my shoulder, and swaying me about like a wrestler, in her agony. I never wor away from home afore, except that little bit wi you over there at Elverston; and you wor wi me then, Maud; an I love yebetter than Bartrambetter than a; an I think Ill die, Maud, if they take me away. I was just as wild in my woe as poor Milly; and it was not until we had wept together for a full hoursometimes standingsometimes walking up and down the roomsometimes sitting and getting up in turns to fall on one anothers necksthat Milly, plucking her handkerchief from her pocket, drew a note from it at the same time, which, as it fell upon the floor, she at once recollected to be one from Uncle Silas to me. It was to this effect I wish to apprise my dear niece and ward of my plans. Milly proceeds to an admirable French school, as a pensionnaire, and leaves this on Thursday next. If after three months trial she finds it in any way objectionable, she returns to us. If, on the contrary, she finds it in all respects the charming residence it has been presented to me, you, on the expiration of that period, join her there, until the temporary complication of my affairs shall have been so far adjusted as to enable me to receive you once more at Bartram. Hoping for happier days, and wishing to assure you that three months is the extreme limit of your separation from my poor Milly, I have written this, feeling alas! unequal to seeing you at present. Bartram, Tuesday. P.S.I can have no objection to your apprising Monica Knollys of these arrangements. You will understand, of course, not a copy of this letter, but its substance. Over this document, scanning it as lawyers do a new Act of Parliament, we took comfort. After all, it was limited; a separation not to exceed three months, possibly much shorter. On the whole, too, I pleased myself with thinking Uncle Silass note, though peremptory, was kind. Our paroxysms subsided into sadness; a close correspondence was arranged. Something of the bustle and excitement of change supervened. If it turned out to be, in truth, a charming residence, how very delightful our meeting in France, with the interest of foreign scenery, ways, and faces, would be! So Thursday arriveda new gush of sorrowa new brightening upand, amid regrets and anticipations, we parted at the gate at the farther end of the Windmill Wood. Then, of course, were more goodbyes, more embraces, and tearful smiles. Good Mrs. Jolks, who met us there, was in a huge fuss; I believe it was her first visit to the metropolis, and she was in proportion heated and important, and terrified about the train, so we had not many last words. I watched poor Milly, whose head was stretched from the window, her hand waving many adieux, until the curve of the road, and the clump of old ashtrees, thick with ivy, hid Milly, carriage and all, from view. My eyes filled again with tears. I turned towards Bartram. At my side stood honest Mary Quince. Dont take on so, Miss; twont be no time passing; three months is nothing at all, she said, smiling kindly. I smiled through my tears and kissed the good creature, and so side by side we reentered the gate. The lithe young man in fustian, whom I had seen talking with Beauty on the morning of our first encounter with that youthful Amazon, was awaiting our reentrance with the key in his hand. He stood half behind the open wicket. One lean brown cheek, one shy eye, and his sharp upturned nose, I saw as we passed. He was treating me to a stealthy scrutiny, and seemed to shun my glance, for he shut the door quickly, and busied himself locking it, and then began stubbing up some thistles which grew close by, with the toe of his thick shoe, his back to us all the time. It struck me that I recognised his features, and I asked Mary Quince. Have you seen that young man before, Quince? He brings up game for your uncle, sometimes, Miss, and lends a hand in the garden, I believe. Do you know his name, Mary? They call him Tom, I dont know what more, Miss. Tom, I called; please, Tom, come here for a moment. Tom turned about, and approached slowly. He was more civil than the Bartram people usually were, for he plucked off his shapeless cap of rabbitskin with a clownish respect. Tom, what is your other nameTom what, my good man? I asked. Tom Brice, maam. Havent I seen you before, Tom Brice? I pursued, for my curiosity was excited, and with it much graver feelings; for there certainly was a resemblance in Toms features to those of the postilion who had looked so hard at me as I passed the carriage in the warren at Knowl, on the evening of the outrage which had scared that quiet place.  Appen you may have, maam, he answered, quite coolly, looking down the buttons of his gaiters. Are you a good whipdo you drive well? Ill drive a plough wi most lads hereabout, answered Tom. Have you ever been to Knowl, Tom? Tom gaped very innocently. Anan, he said. Here, Tom, is halfacrown. He took it readily enough. That be very good, said Tom, with a nod, having glanced sharply at the coin. I cant say whether he applied that term to the coin, or to his luck, or to my generous self. Now, Tom, youll tell me, have you ever been to Knowl? Maught a bin, maam, but I dont mind no sich placeno. As Tom spoke this with great deliberation, like a man who loves truth, putting a strain upon his memory for its sake, he spun the silver coin two or three times into the air and caught it, staring at it the while, with all his might. Now, Tom, recollect yourself, and tell me the truth, and Ill be a friend to you. Did you ride postilion to a carriage having a lady in it, and, I think, several gentlemen, which came to the grounds of Knowl, when the party had their luncheon on the grass, and there was aa quarrel with the gamekeepers? Try, Tom, to recollect; you shall, upon my honour, have no trouble about it, and Ill try to serve you. Tom was silent, while with a vacant gape he watched the spin of his halfcrown twice, and then catching it with a smack in his hand, which he thrust into his pocket, he said, still looking in the same direction I never rid postilion in my days, maam. I know nout o sich a place, though appen I maught a bin there; Knowl, ye cat. I was neer out o Derbyshire but thrice to Warwick fair wi horses be rail, an twice to York. Youre certain, Tom? Sartin sure, maam. And Tom made another loutish salute, and cut the conference short by turning off the path and beginning to hollo after some trespassing cattle. I had not felt anything like so nearly sure in this essay at identification as I had in that of Dudley. Even of Dudleys identity with the Church Scarsdale man, I had daily grown less confident; and, indeed, had it been proposed to bring it to the test of a wager, I do not think I should, in the language of sporting gentlemen, have cared to back my original opinion. There was, however, a sufficient uncertainty to make me uncomfortable; and there was another uncertainty to enhance the unpleasant sense of ambiguity. On our way back we passed the bleaching trunks and limbs of several ranks of barkless oaks lying side by side, some squared by the hatchet, perhaps sold, for there were large letters and Roman numerals traced upon them in red chalk. I sighed as I passed them by, not because it was wrongfully done, for I really rather leaned to the belief that Uncle Silas was well advised in point of law. But, alas! here lay low the grand old family decorations of BartramHaugh, not to be replaced for centuries to come, under whose spreading boughs the Ruthyns of three hundred years ago had hawked and hunted! On the trunk of one of these I sat down to rest, Mary Quince meanwhile pattering about in unmeaning explorations. While thus listlessly seated, the girl Meg Hawkes, walked by, carrying a basket. Hish! she said quickly, as she passed, without altering a pace or raising her eyes; dont ye speak nor lookfayther spies us; Ill tell ye next turn. Next turnwhen was that? Well, she might be returning; and as she could not then say more than she had said, in merely passing without a pause, I concluded to wait for a short time and see what would come of it. After a short time I looked about me a little, and I saw Dickon HawkesPegtop, as poor Milly used to call himwith an axe in his hand, prowling luridly among the timber. Observing that I saw him, he touched his hat sulkily, and byandby passed me, muttering to himself. He plainly could not understand what business I could have in that particular part of the Windmill Wood, and let me see it in his countenance. His daughter did pass me again; but this time he was near, and she was silent. Her next transit occurred as he was questioning Mary Quince at some little distance; and as she passed precisely in the same way, she said Dont you be alone wi Master Dudley nowhere for the worlds worth. The injunction was so startling that I was on the point of questioning the girl. But I recollected myself, and waited in the hope that in her future transits she might be more explicit. But one word more she did not utter, and the jealous eye of old Pegtop was so constantly upon us that I refrained. There was vagueness and suggestion enough in the oracle to supply work for many an hour of anxious conjecture, and many a horrible vigil by night. Was I never to know peace at BartramHaugh? Ten days of poor Millys absence, and of my solitude, had already passed, when my uncle sent for me to his room. When old Wyat stood at the door, mumbling and snarling her message, my heart died within me. It was latejust that hour when dejected people feel their anxieties mostwhen the cold grey of twilight has deepened to its darkest shade, and before the cheerful candles are lighted, and the safe quiet of the night sets in. When I entered my uncles sittingroomthough his windowshutters were open and the wan streaks of sunset visible through them, like narrow lakes in the chasms of the dark western cloudsa pair of candles were burning; one stood upon the table by his desk, the other on the chimneypiece, before which his tall, thin figure stooped. His hand leaned on the mantelpiece, and the light from the candle just above his bowed head touched his silvery hair.