(ttmmll Hutamtg |ptag 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 ^m-..:...^ar.,. ^.currrxJc,^..caru.. 
 
 A...3-.SL,.&.~...g..^...., IE.7IU.AJ.. 
 
 •■*t 
 
 3513-2 
 
-I 
 
 The date shows when this volume was taken.' 
 
 To renew this book #py the call No. and give to 
 *^ . the^hprarian. 
 
 >' ^ HOME USE RULES. 
 
 WOV * * '"^ All pooks subject to Recall. 
 
 Books not used for 
 instructiqn : of researeh 
 are retiirtg|>l<g; within 
 4 weeks- "•' '' 
 
 Volumes of periodi- 
 cals and of pamphlets 
 are held in the library 
 as much as possible. 
 For special purposes 
 they are given out for 
 " a limited time. 
 
 Borrowers should 
 not use their library 
 privileges for the bene- 
 fit of other persons. 
 
 Books not needed . 
 during recess periods- 
 should be returned to 
 the library, or arrange- • 
 ments made for their, 
 return during borrow-' 
 , ' er's absence, if wanted. 
 
 Books needed hy 
 more than one persdn 
 are held on the reserve 
 list. 
 "" Books of special 
 value and gift books, 
 when" the giver wishes 
 it, are not allowed to 
 circulate. 
 
 Readers are asked 
 to report all cases of 
 books marked or muti- 
 lated. 
 
 Do not deface books by marks and writing. 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 PR 4494.M5 1892 
 
 Miss or Mrs? 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 3466440 
 
MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 BY 
 
 WIL.KIE-COLLINS. 
 
 New York : 
 
 MINERVA PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 
 48 University Place. 
 
 1892. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FIRST SCENE. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 At Sea 6 
 
 SECOND SCENE. 
 
 The Store-Room 26 
 
 THIRD SCENE. 
 The Money Market 44 
 
 FOURTH SCENE. 
 MusVell Hill 50 
 
 FIFTH SCENE. 
 
 The Square 58 
 
 SIXTH SCENE. 
 
 The Church 69 
 
 EIGHTH SCENE. 
 
 The Library 88 
 
 SEVENTH SCENE. 
 The Evening Party 74 
 
4 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 NINTH SCENE. 
 
 The Dra wing-Room 10G 
 
 TENTH SCENE. 
 Geeen Anchor Lane ........ 107 
 
 ELEVENTH SCENE. 
 Outside the House ......... 113 
 
 TWELFTH SCENE. 
 
 Inside the House 118 
 
 DUCUMENTARY HINTS, IN CONCLUSION. 
 
 First Hint ~~. . 139 
 
 Second Hint 139 
 
 "BLOW UP WITH THE BRIG!" 143 
 
MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 FIRST SCENE. 
 
 AT SEA. 
 
 The night had come to an end. The new-born 
 day waited for its quickening light in the silence 
 that is never known on land—the silence before sun- 
 rise, in a calm at sea." 
 
 Not a breath came from the dead air. Not a riD- 
 pie stirred on the motionless -water. Nothing 
 changed, but the softly-growing light; nothing 
 moved but the lazy mist, curling up to meet the sun, 
 its master, on the eastward sea. By fine gradations, 
 the airy veil of morning thinned in substance as it 
 rose — thinned, till there dawned through it in the 
 first rays of sunlight the tall white sails of a schooner 
 yacht. 
 
 From stern to stern silence possessed the vessel—- 
 as silence possessed the sea. 
 
 But one living creature was on deck — the man at 
 helm, dozing peaceably with his arm over the use* 
 less tiller. Minute by minute the light grew, and 
 the' heat grew with it ; and still the helmsman slum- 
 
 0) 
 
6 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 bered, the heavy sails hung noiseless, the quiet water 
 lay sleeping against the vessel's sides. The whole 
 orb of,the sun was visible above the water-line, 
 when the first sound pierced its way through the 
 morning silence. From far off over tbe shining 
 white ocean, the cry of a sea bird reached the yacht 
 on a sudden out of the last airy circles of the waning 
 mist. 
 
 The sleeper at the helm woke ; looked up at the 
 idle sails, and yawned in sympathy with them ; 
 looked out at the sea on either side of him, and shook 
 his head obstinately at the superior obstinacy of the 
 calm. 
 
 "Blow, my little breeze! " said the man, whistling 
 the sailor's invocation to the wind softly between his 
 teeth. " Blow, my little breeze ! " 
 
 "How's her head?" cried a bold and brassy voice, 
 hailing the deck from the cabin staircase. 
 
 " Anywhere you like, v master ; all around the com- 
 
 The voice was followed by the man. The owner 
 of the yacht appeared on deck. 
 
 Behold Richard Turlington, Esq., of the great 
 Levant firm of Pizzituti, Turlington, and Branca ! 
 Aged eight-and-thirty ; standing stiffly and sturdily 
 at a height of not more than five feet six — Mr. Tur- 
 lington presented to the view of his fellow-creatures 
 a face of the perpendicular order of human architect- 
 ure. His forehead was a straight line, his) upper lip 
 was another, his chin was the straightest and the 
 
AT SEA. 7 
 
 longest line of all. As he turned his swarthy coun- 
 tenance eastward, and shaded his light grey eyes 
 from the sun, his knotty hand plainly revealed that it 
 had got him his living by its own labor at one time 
 or another in his life. 
 
 Taken on the whole, this was a man whom it 
 might be easy to respect, but whom it would be hard 
 to love. Better company at the official desk than at 
 the social table. Morally and physically, if the ex- 
 pression may be permitted — a man without a bend 
 in him. 
 
 " A calm yesterday," grumbled Richard Turling- 
 ton, looking with stubborn deliberation all around 
 him. "And a calm to-day. Ha! next season I'll 
 have the vessel fitted with engines. I hate this ! " 
 
 " Think of the filthy coals, and the infernal vibra- 
 tion, and leave your beautiful schooner as she is. 
 We are out for a holiday. Let the wind and the sea 
 take a holiday, too." 
 
 Pronouncing those words of remonstrance, a slim, 
 nimble, curly-headed young gentleman joined Rich- 
 ard Turlington on deck, with his clothes under his 
 arm, his towels in his hand, and nothing on him but 
 the night-gown in which he had stepped out of his 
 bed. 
 
 "Launcelot Linzie, you have been received on 
 board my vessel in the capacity of medical attendant 
 on Miss Natalie Graybrooke, at her father's request. 
 Keep your place, if you please. When I want your 
 advice, I'll ask you for it." Answering in those 
 
8 MISS OB MES.? 
 
 terms, the elder man fixed his colorless grey eyes on 
 the younger with an expression which added plainly : 
 " There won't be room enough in this schooner much 
 longer for me and for you." 
 
 Launcelot Lirizie had his reasons apparently for 
 declining to let his host offend him, on any terms 
 whatever. 
 
 " Thank you I " he rejoined, in a tone of satirical 
 good-humor. "It isn't easy to keep my place on 
 board your vessel. I can't help presuming to enjoy 
 myself as if I was the owner. The life is such a 
 new one — to me ! It's so delightfully easy, for in- 
 stance, to wash yourself here. On shore it's a com- 
 plicated question of jugs and basins and tubs ; one 
 is always in danger of breaking something or spoil- 
 ing something. Here you have only to jump out of 
 bed, to run up on deck, and to do this ! " 
 
 He turned, and scampered to the bowa of the ves- 
 sel. In one instant he was out of his night-gown, in 
 another he was on the bulwark, in a third he was 
 gambolling luxuriously' in sixty fathoms of" salt 
 water. 
 
 Turlington's eyes followed him with a reluctant 
 uneasy attention as he swam round the vessel, the 
 only moving object in view. Turlington's mind, 
 steady and slow in all its operations, set him a prob- 
 lem to be solved, on given conditions, as follows : — 
 
 " Launcelot Linzie is fifteen years younger than I 
 am. Add to that, Launcelot Linzie is Natalie Gray* 
 
AT SEA. 9 
 
 brooke's cousin. Given those two advantages — 
 Query : Has he taken Natalie's fancy? " 
 
 Turning that question slowly over and over in his 
 mind, Richard Turlington seated himself in a corner 
 at the stern of the vessel. He was still at work on 
 the problem, when the young surgeon returned to his 
 cabin to put the finishing touches to his toilet. He 
 had not reached the solution when the steward ap- 
 peared an hour later and said, " Breakfast is ready, 
 sir I" 
 
 They were a party of five round the cabin table. 
 
 First Sir Joseph Graybrooke.. Inheritor of a 
 handsome fortune made by his father and his grand- 
 father in trade. Mayor, twice elected, of a thriving 
 provincial town. Officially privileged, while hold- 
 ing that dignity, to hand a silver trowel to a royal 
 personage condescending to lay a first stone of a 
 charitable edifice. Knighted, accordingly, in honor 
 of the occasion. Worthy of the honor and worthy 
 of the occasion. A type of his eminently respect- 
 able class. Possessed of an amiable, rosy face, and 
 soft, silky white hair. Sound in his principles ; tidy 
 in his dress ; blest with moderate politics and a good 
 digestion — a harmless, healthy, spruce, speckless, 
 weak-minded old man. 
 
 Secondly, Miss Lavinia Graybrooke, Sir Joseph's, 
 maiden sister. Personally, Sir Joseph in petticoats. 
 If you knew one you knew the other. 
 
 Thirdly, Miss Natalie Graybrooke — Sir Joseph's 
 only child. 
 
10 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 She had inherited the personal appearance and 
 temperament of her mother — dead many years since. 
 There had been a mixture of negro blood and 
 French blood in the late Lady Gxaybfooke's family, 
 settled originally in Martinique. Natalie had her 
 mother's warm dusky color, her mother's superb 
 black hair, and her mother's melting^ lazy^ lovely 
 brown eyes. At fifteen years of age (dating from 
 her last birthday) she possessed the development of 
 the bosom and limbs which in England is rarely at- 
 tained before twenty. Everything about the girl — 
 except her little rosy ears — was on a grand Amazon- 
 ian scale. Her shapely hand was long and large ; 
 her supple waist was the waist of a woman. The 
 indolent grace of all her movements had its motive 
 power in an almost masculine firmness of action, 
 and profusion of physical resource. This remark- 
 able bodily development was far from being accom- 
 panied by any corresponding development of char- 
 acter. Natalie's manner was the gentle, innocent 
 manner of a young girl. She had her father's sweet 
 temper engrafted on her mother's variable Southern 
 nature. She moved like a geddess, and she laughed 
 like a child. Signs of maturing too rapidly — of 
 outgrowing her strength, as the phrase went — had 
 made their appearance in Sir Joseph's daughter dur- 
 ing the spring. The family doctor had suggested a 
 sea-voyage, as a wise manner of employing the fine 
 summer months. Richard Turlington's yacht was 
 placed at her disposal — with Richard Turlington 
 
AT SEA. 11 
 
 himself included as one of the fixtures of the vessel. 
 With her father and her aunt to keep up round her 
 the atmosphere of home — with cousin Launcelot 
 (more commonly known as " Launce ") to carry out, 
 if necessary, the medical treatment prescribed by 
 superior authorty on shore — the lovely invalid em- 
 barked on her summer cruise, and sprang up into a 
 new existence in the life-giving breezes of the sea. 
 After two happy months of lazy coasting round the 
 shores of England, all that remained of Natalie's 
 illness was represented by a delicious langour in her 
 eyes, and an utter inability to devote herself to 
 anything which took the shape of a serious occupa- 
 tion. As she sat at the cabin breakfast-table that 
 morning, in her quaintly-made sailing dress of old- 
 fashioned nankeen — her inbred childishness of man- 
 ner contrasting delightfully with the.blooming ma- 
 turity of her form — the man must have been trebly 
 armed indeed in the modern philosophy who could 
 have denied that the first of a woman's rights is the 
 right of being beautiful ; and the foremost of a wo- 
 man's merits, the merit of being young! 
 
 The other two persons present at the table were 
 the two gentlemen who have already appeared on 
 the deck of the yacht. 
 
 "Not a breath of wind stirring!" said Richard 
 Turlington. "The weather has got a grudge 
 against us. We have drifted about four or five 
 miles in the last eight- and-forty hours. You will 
 
12 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 never take another cruise with me — you must be 
 longing to get on shore." 
 
 He addressed himself to Natalie ; plainly eager to 
 make himself agreeable to the young lady — and 
 plainly unsuccessful in producing any impression on 
 her. She made a civil answer ; and looked at her 
 tea-cup, instead of looking at Richard Turlington. 
 
 " You might fancy yourself on shore at tbis mo- 
 ment," said Launce. " The vessel is as steady as 
 a house, and the swing-table we are eating our 
 breakfast on is as even as your dining-room table at 
 home." 
 
 He, too, addressed himself to Natalie — but with- 
 out betraying the anxiety to please her which had 
 been shown by the other. For all that, he diverted 
 the girl's attention from her tea-cup ; and his idea 
 instantly awakened a responsive idea in Natalie's 
 mind. 
 
 " It will be so strange on shore," she said, " to 
 find myself in a room that never turns on one side, 
 and to sit at a table that never tilts down to my 
 knees at one time, or rises up to-my chin at another. 
 How I shall miss the wash of water at my ear, and 
 the ring of the bell on deck, when I am awake at 
 night on land ! No interest there in how the wind 
 blows, or how the sails are set. No asking your 
 way of the sun, when you are lost, with a little 
 brass instrument and a morsel of pencil and paper. 
 No delightful wandering wherever the wind takes 
 you, without the worry of planning beforehand 
 
AT SEA. 18 
 
 where you are to go. Oh, how I shall miss the dear, 
 changeable, inconstant sea ! And how sorry I am 
 I'm not a man and a sailor ! 
 
 This to the guest, admitted on board on sufferance 
 — and not one word of it addressed, even by 
 chance, to the owner of the yacht 1 
 
 Richard Surlington's heavy eyebrows contracted 
 with an unmistakable expression of pain. 
 
 " If this calm weather -holds," he went on, ad- 
 dressing himself to Sir. Joseph, " I am afraid, Gray- 
 brooke, I shall not be able to bring you back to the 
 port we sailed from, by the end of the week." 
 
 " Whenever you like, Richard," answered the old 
 gentleman, resignedly. " Any time will do for me." 
 
 " Any time within reasonable limits, Joseph," said 
 Miss Lavinia — evidently feeling that her brother was 
 conceding too much. She spoke with Sir Joseph's 
 amiable smile and Sir Joseph's softly-pitched voice. 
 Two twin' babies could hardly have been more like 
 one another. 
 
 While these few words were being exchanged 
 among the elders, a private communication was in 
 course of progress between the two young people, 
 under the cabin table. Natalie's smartly-slippered 
 foot felt its way cautiously inch by inch over the 
 carpet till it touched Launce's boot. Launce, de- 
 vouring his breakfast, instantly looked up from his 
 plate — and then, at a second touch from Natalie, 
 looked down again in a violent hurry. After pausing 
 to make sure that she was not noticed, Natalie took 
 
14 MISS OR MBS.?' 
 
 up her knife. Under a perfectly-acted pretence of 
 toying with it absently, in the character of a young 
 lady absorbed in thought, she began dividing a 
 morsel of ham left on the edge of her plate, into sis 
 tiny pieces. Launce's eye looked in sidelong ex- 
 pectation at the divided and subdivided ham. He 
 was evidently waiting to see the collection'of morsels 
 put to some telegraphic use, previously determined 
 on between his neighbor and himself. 
 
 In the meanwhile the talk proceeded among the 
 other persons at the breakfast-table. Miss Lavinia 
 addressed herself to Launce. 
 
 " Do you know, you careless boy, you gave me a 
 fright this morning ? I was sleeping with my cabin- 
 window open, and I was woke by an awful splash in 
 the water. I called for the stewardess. I declare I 
 thought! someb&dy had fallen overboard ! " 
 
 Sir Joseph looked up briskly ; his sister had ac- 
 . cidently touched on an old association. 
 
 "Talking of falling overboard," he began, "re- 
 minds me of an extraordinary adventure " 
 
 There Launce broke in, making his apologies. 
 
 " It shan't occur again, Miss Lavinia," he said. 
 " To-morrow morning 111 Oil myself all over, and 
 slip into the water as silently as a seal." 
 
 " Of an extraordinary adventure," persisted Sir 
 Joeseph, "which happened to me some years ago, 
 when I was a younger man. Lavinia ? " 
 
 He stopped and looked interrogatively at his 
 sister. Miss Graybrooke nodded her headrespon- 
 
AT SUA. 15 
 
 sively, and settled herself in Her cnalr, as if sum- 
 moning her attention in anticipation of a coming 
 demand on it. To persona well acquainted with the 
 Brother and sister these proceedings were ominous 
 of an impending narrative, protracted to a formid- 
 able length. The two always told a story in couples, ' 
 and always differed with each other about the facts ; 
 the sister politely contradicting the brother when 
 it was Sir Joseph's story, and the, brother politely 
 contradicting the sister when it was Miss Lavinia's 
 story. Separated one from the other, and thus re- 
 lieved of their own habitual interchange of contra- 
 diction, neither of them had ever been known to 
 attempt the relation of the simplest series of events 
 without breaking down. 
 
 " It was five years before I knew you, Richard," 
 proceeded Sir Joseph. 
 
 " Six years," said Miss Graybrooke. 
 
 " Excuse me, Lavinia." 
 
 "No, Joseph, I have it down in my diary." 
 
 " Let us waive the point." (Sir Joseph invariably 
 used this formula as a means of at once conciliating 
 his sister, and getting a fresh start for his story.) 
 " I was oruising off the Mersey in a Liverpool pilot- 
 boat. I had hired the boat in company with a friend 
 of mine — a man formerjy notorious in London 
 society under the nickname (derived, from the 
 peculiar brown color of his whiskers) of « Mahogany 
 Pobbs.'" 
 
16 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 "The color of his liveries, Joseph, not the color 
 of his whiskers." 
 
 " My dear Lavinia, you are thinking of 4 Seagreen 
 Shaw, ' so called from the extraordinary liveries he 
 adopted for his servants in the year when he was 
 sheriff." 
 
 "I think not, Joseph." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Lavinia." 
 
 Richard Turlington's knotty fingers drummed 
 impatiently on the table. He looked toward Nata- 
 lie. She was idly arranging her little morsels of 
 ham in a pattern on her plate. Launcelot Linsrie, 
 still more idly, wss looking at the pattern. Seeing 
 what he saw now, Richard solved the problem which 
 had puzzled him on deck. It was simply impossible 
 that Natalie's fancy could be really taken by such 
 an empty-headed fool as that ! 
 
 Sir Joseph went on with his story — 
 
 " We were some ten or a dozen miles off the 
 mouth of the Mersey—" 
 
 "Nautical miles, Joseph?" 
 
 M It doesn't matter, Lavinia." 
 
 "Excuse me, brother, the late great and good Doc- 
 tor Johnson said accuracy ought always to be studied 
 even in the most trifling things." 
 
 " They were common miles, Lavinia." 
 
 " They were nautical miles, Joseph." 
 
 " Let us waive the point. Mahogany Dobbs and I 
 happened to be below in the cabin, occupied — " 
 
 Here Sir Joseph paused (with his amiable smile) to 
 
AT SEA- 17 
 
 consult his memory. Miss Lavinia waited (with her 
 amiable smile) for the coming opportunity of setting 
 her brother right. At the same moment Natalie laid 
 down her knife and softly touched Launce under the 
 table. When she thus claimed his attention, the six 
 pieces of ham were arranged as follows in her plate : 
 Two pieces were placed opposite each other, and 
 four pieces were ranged perpendicularly under them. 
 Launce looked, and twice touched Natalie under the 
 table. Interpreted by the Code agreed on between 
 the two, the signal in the plate meant, "I must see 
 you in private." And Launce's double touch an- 
 swered, "After breakfast." 
 
 Sir Joseph proceeded with his story* Natalie tQok 
 up her knife again. Another signal coming ! " 
 
 " We were both down in the cabin, occupied in 
 finishing our dinner—" . 
 
 " Just sitting down to lunch, Joseph." 
 
 " My dear ! I ought to know." 
 
 " I only repeat what I heard, brother. . The last 
 time you told the story, you and your friend were 
 sitting, down to lunch." 
 
 "We won't particularize, Lavinia. Suppose we 
 say occupied over a mea^? " 
 
 "If it is of no more importance than that, Joseph, 
 it would be surely better to leave it out altogether? " 
 
 " Let us waive the point. Well, we were suddenly 
 
 alarmed by a shout on deck, ' Man overboard I ' We 
 
 both rushed up the cabin stairs, naturally under the 
 
 impression that one of our crew had fallen into the 
 
 2 
 
18 MISS OB, MBS.? 
 
 sea : an impression shared, I ought to add, by the 
 
 man at the helm, who had given the alarm." 
 
 Sir Joseph paused again. He was approaching 
 one of the great dramatic points in his story, and 
 was naturally anxious to present it as impressively 
 as possible. He considered with himself, with his 
 head a little on one side. Miss Lavinia considered 
 with herself, with her head a little on one side. Na- 
 talie laid down her knife again, and again touched 
 Launce under the table. This time there were five 
 pieces of ham ranged longitudinally on the plate, 
 with one piece immediately under them at the centre 
 of the line. Interpreted by the Code, this signal in- 
 dicated two ominous words, " Bad news." Launce 
 looked significantly at the owner of the yacht 
 (meaning of the look, " Is he at the bottom of it ? "). 
 Natalie frowned in reply (meaning of the frown, 
 "Yes, he is "). Launce looked down again into the 
 plate. Natalie instantly pushed all the pieces of 
 ham together in a little heap (meaning of the heap, 
 "No more to say"). 
 
 " Well ? " said Richard Turlington, turning sharply 
 on Sir Joseph. " Get on with your story. What 
 next?" 
 
 Thus far he had not troubled himself to show even 
 a decent pretence of interest in his old friend's per- 
 petually-interrupted narrative. It was only when 
 Sir Joseph had reached his last sentence — intimating 
 that the man overboard might turn out in course of 
 time not to be a man of the pilot-boat's crew — it was 
 
AT SEA. 19 
 
 only then that Turlington sat up in his chair, and 
 showed signs of suddenly feeling a strong interest 
 in the progress of the story. 
 
 Sir Joseph went on — 
 
 "As soon as we got on deck, we saw the man in 
 the water astern. Our vessel was hove up in the 
 wind, and the boat was lowered. The master and 
 one of the men took the oars. All told, our crew 
 was seven in number. Two away in the boat, a 
 third at the helm, and, to my amazement, when I 
 looked around, the other four behind me, making 
 our number complete. At the same moment Ma- 
 hogany Dobbs, who was looking through a telescope, 
 called out, 'Who in the devil can he be? The man 
 is floating on a hen-coop, and we have got nothing 
 of the sort on board this pilot-boat.' " 
 
 The one person present who happened to notice 
 Richard Turlington's face when those words were 
 pronounced was Launcelot Linzie. He — and he 
 alone — saw the Levant trader's swarthy complexion 
 fade slowly to a livid ashen grey ; his eyes, the 
 while, fixing themselves on Sir Joseph Graybrooke, 
 with a furtive glare in them like the glare in the eyes 
 of a wild beast. Apparently conscious that Launce 
 was looking at him — though he never turned his 
 head Launce's way — he laid his elbow on the table, 
 lifted his arm, and so rested his facte on his hand, 
 while .the story went on, as to screen it effectually 
 from the young surgeon's view. 
 
 " The man was brought on board," proceeded Sir 
 
20 MISS OE MRS.? 
 
 Joseph; "sure enough with a hen-coop — on which 
 he had been found floating. The poor wretch was 
 blue with terror and exposure to the water ; he 
 fainted when we lifted him on deck. When he came 
 to himself he told us a horrible story. He was a 
 sick and destitute foreign seaman ; and he had hid- 
 den himself in the hold of an English vessel (bound 
 to a port in his native eountry) which had sailed 
 from Liverpool that morning. He had been discov- 
 ered, and brought before the captain. The captain, 
 a monster in human form, if ever there was one yet." 
 
 Before the next words of the sentence could pass 
 Sir Joseph's lips, Turlington startled the" little party 
 in the cabin by springing suddenly to his feet. 
 
 " The breeze ! " he cried " the breeze at last ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he wheeled round to the cabin door 
 so as to turn his back on his guests, and hailed the 
 deck. 
 
 " Which way is the wind? " 
 
 " There is not a breath of wind, sir." 
 
 Not the slightest movement in the vessel had been 
 perceptible in the cabin ; not a sound had been audi- 
 ble indicating the rising of the breeze. The owner 
 of the yacht — accustomed to the sea ; capable, if 
 necessary, of sailing his own Vessel — had surely com- 
 mitted a strange mistake ! He turned again to his 
 friends, and made his apologies with an excess of 
 polite regret, far from characteristic of him at other 
 times, and under other circumstances. 
 
 " Go on," he said to Sir Joseph, when he had got 
 
AT SEA. 21 
 
 to the end of his excuses; " I never heard such an 
 interesting story in my life. Pray go on ! " 
 
 The request was not an easy one to comply with. 
 Sir Joseph's ideas had been thrown into confusion. 
 Miss Lavinia's contradictions (held in reserve) had 
 been scattered beyond recall. Both brother and sis- 
 ter were, moreover, additionally hindered in recov- 
 ering the/control of their own resources by the look 
 and manner of their host. He alarmed, instead of 
 encouraging, the two harmless old people, by front- 
 ing them almost fiercely, with his elbows squared on 
 the table, and his face expressive of a dogged reso- 
 lution to sit there and listen, if need be, for the rest 
 of his life. Launce was the person who set Sir 
 Joseph going again. After first looking attentively 
 at Richard, he took his uncle straight back to the 
 story by means of a question, thus : — 
 
 " You don't mean to say that the captain of the 
 ship threw the man overboard ? " 
 
 "That is just what he did, Launce. The poor 
 wretch was too ill to work his passage. The captain, 
 declared he would have no idle foreign vagabond in 
 his ship to eat up the provisions of Englishmen who 
 worked. With hip own hands he cast the hen-coop 
 into the water, and (assisted by one of his sailors) 
 threw the man after it, and told him to float back to 
 Liverpool with the evening tide." 
 
 "A lie!" cried Turlington, addressing himself, 
 not to Sir Joseph, but to Launce. 
 
22 MISS OK MBS.? 
 
 "Are you acquainted with the circumstances?" 
 asked Launce, quietly. 
 
 "I know nothing about the circumstances. I say, 
 from my own experience, that foreign sailors are 
 even greater blackguards than English sailors. The 
 man had met with an accident, no doubt. The rest 
 of his story was a lie — and the object of it was to 
 open Sir Joseph's purse." 
 
 Sir Joseph mildly shook his head. 
 
 " No lie, Richard.' Witnesses proved that the man 
 had spoken the truth." 
 
 "Witnesses? Pooh I More liars, you mean." 
 
 " I went to the owners of the vessel," pursued Sir 
 Joseph. " I got from them the names of- the officers 
 and the crew; and I waited, leaving the case in the 
 hands of the Liverpool police. The ship was 
 wrecked at the mouth of the Amazon. But the 
 crew and the cargo were saved. The men belong- 
 ing to Liverpool came back. They were a bad set, 
 I grant you. But they were examined separately 
 about the treatment of the foreign sailor, and they 
 all told the same story. They l;ould give no account 
 of their captain or of the sailor who had been his ac- 
 complice in the crime, except that they had not em- 
 barked in the ship which brought the rest of the 
 crew to England. Whatever may have become of 
 the captain since, he certainly never returned to 
 Liverpool." 
 
 " Did you find out his name? " 
 
 The question was asked by Turlington. Even Sir 
 
AT SEA. 28 
 
 Joseph, the least observant of men, noticed that it 
 was put with a perfectly unaccountable irritability 
 of manner. 
 
 " Don't be angry, Richard," said the old gentleman. 
 "What is there to be angry about?" 
 
 " I don't know what you mean. I'm not angry. 
 I'm only curious. Did you find out who he was ? " 
 
 " I did. His name was Goward. He was well- 
 known at Liverpool as a very clever and a very dan- 
 gerous man. Quite young at. the time I am speak- 
 ing of, and a first-rate sailor: famous for taking 
 command of unseaworthy ships and vagabond crews. 
 Report described him to me as having made consid- 
 erable sums' of money in that way, for a man in his 
 position ; serving firms, you know, with a bad name, 
 and running all sorts of desperate risks. A sad 
 ruffian, Richard ! More than once in trouble, on 
 both sides of the Atlantic, for acts of violence and 
 cruelty. Dead, I dare say, long since." 
 
 " Or possibly," said Launce, " alive, under another 
 > name, and thriving in a new way of life, with more 
 desperate risks in it, of some other sort. 
 
 "Are you acquainted with the circumstances?" 
 asked Turlington, retorting Launce's question on 
 him, with a harsh ring of defiance in. his brassy 
 voice. 
 
 "What became of the poor foreign sailor, papa?" 
 said Natalie, purposely interrupting Launce before 
 he could meet the question angrily asked of him, by 
 an angry reply. 
 
24 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 "We made a subscription, and spoke to his con- 
 sol, my dear. He went back to his country, poor 
 fellow, comfortably enough." 
 
 " And there is an end of Sir Joseph's story," said 
 Turlington, rising noisily from his chair. " It's a 
 pity we haven't got a literary man on board — he 
 would make a novel of it." He looked up at the 
 skylight as he,got on his feet. "Here is the breeze, 
 this time," he exclaimed, " and no mistake ! " 
 
 It was true. At last the breeze had come ! The 
 sails flapped, the main boom swung over with a 
 thump, and the stagnant water, stirred at last, bub- 
 bled merrily past the vessel's sides. 
 
 "Come on deck, Natalie, and get some fresh air/' 
 said Miss Lavinia, leading the way to the cabin-door. 
 
 Natalie held up the skirt of her nankeen dress, 
 and exhibited the purple trimming torn away over 
 an extent of some yards. 
 
 " Give me half an hour first, aunt, in my cabin," 
 she said, " to mend this." 
 
 Miss* Lavinia elevated her venerable eyebrows in 
 amazement. 
 
 "You have done nothing but tear your dresses 
 my dear, since you have been in Mr. Turlington's 
 yacht. Most extraordinary ! I have .torn none of 
 mine during the whole cruise." 
 
 Natalie's dark color deepened a shade. She 
 laughed a little uneasily. . " I am so awkward on 
 board ship," she replied, and turned away, and shut 
 herself up in her cabin. 
 
AT SEA. 25 
 
 Richard Turlington produced his case of cigars. 
 
 li Now is the time," he said to Sir Joseph, " for the 
 best cigar of the day — the cigar after breakfast. 
 Come on deck." 
 
 "You will join us, Launce? " said Sir Joseph. 
 
 "Give me half an hour first, over my books," 
 Launce replied. " I mustn't let my medical knowl- 
 edge get musty at sea, and I might not feel inclined 
 to study later in the day." 
 
 " Quite right, my dear boy, quite right." 
 
 Sir Joseph patted his nephew approvingly on the 
 shoulder. Launce turned away on his side, and shut 
 himself up in Ms cabin. 
 
 The other three ascended together to the deck. 
 
26 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 SECOND SCENE. 
 
 THE STOKE-EOOM. 
 
 Persons possessed of sluggish livers and tender 
 hearts find two serious drawbacks to the enjoyment 
 of a cruise at sea. It is exceedingly difficult to get 
 enough walking exercise ; and it is next to impossible 
 (where secrecy is an object) to make love without 
 being found out. Reverting for the moment to the 
 latter difficulty only, life within the narrow and 
 populous limits of ^a vessel may be defined as essen- 
 tially life in public. From mprning to night you are 
 in your neighbor's way, or your neighboris in your 
 way. As a necessary result of these conditions, the 
 rarest of existing men may be defined as the man 
 who is capable of stealing a kiss at sea without dis- 
 covery. An inbred capacity for strategem of the 
 finest sort; inexhaustible inventive resources; pa- 
 tience which can flourish under superhuman trials, 
 presence of mind which can keep its balance victori- 
 ously under every possible stress of emergency — 
 these are some of the qualifications, which must 
 accompany Love on a cruise, when Love embarks in 
 the character of a contraband commodity not duly 
 entered on the papers of the ship. 
 
 Having established a Code of Signals which en- 
 
THE SXOEE-EOOM. 27 
 
 abled them to communicate privately, while the 
 eyes and ears of others were wide open on every 
 side of them, Natalie and Launce were next con- 
 fronted by the more serious r difficulty of finding a 
 means of meeting together at stolen, interviews on 
 board the yacht. Possessing" none of those precious 
 moral qualifications, already enumerated as the 
 qualifications of an accomplished lover at sea, Launce 
 had proved unequal to grapple with the obstacle in 
 his way. Left to her own inventive resources, 
 Natalie had first suggested the young surgeon's 
 medical studies as Launce's unanswerable excuse for 
 shutting himself up at intervals in the lower regions 
 — and had then hit on the happy idea of tearing her 
 trimmings, and condemning herself to repair her 
 own carelessness, as the all-sufficient reason for 
 similar acts of self-seclusion on her side. In this 
 way the lovers contrived, while the innocent ruling 
 authorities were on deck, to meet privately below 
 them, on the neutral ground of the main cabin — 
 and there, by previous arrangement at the breakfast- 
 table, they were about to meet privately now. 
 
 Natalie's door was, as usual on these occasions, 
 the first that opened; for this sound reason, that 
 Natalie's quickness was the quickness v to be de- 
 pended on in case of accident. 
 
 She looked up at the skylight. There were the 
 legs of the two gentlemen and the skirts of her 
 aunt, visible (and stationary) on the lee side of the 
 deck. She advanced a few steps and listened. 
 
28 MISS OE MBS.? 
 
 There was a pause in the murmur of the voices 
 above. She looked up again. One pair of legs 
 (not her father's) had disappeared. Without an 
 instant's hesitation, Natalie darted back to her own 
 door, just in time to escape Richard Turlington 
 descending the cabin stairs. All he did was to go to 
 one of the drawers under the main-cabin book-case, 
 and take out a map ; ascending again immediately to 
 the deck. Natalie's guilty conscience rushed in- 
 stantly, nevertheless, to the conclusion that Richard 
 suspected her. When she showed herself for the 
 second time, instead of venturing into the cabin, she 
 called across it in a whisper. 
 
 " Launce ! " 
 
 Launce appeared at his door. He was peremp- 
 torily checked before he could cross the threshold. 
 
 " Don't stir a step ! Richard has been down in 
 the cabin ! Richard suspects us ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! come out." 
 
 "Nothing will induce me, unless you can find 
 some other place than the cabin." , 
 
 Some other place ? How easy to find it on land I 
 How apparently impossible at sea ! There was the 
 forecastle (full of men) at one end of the vessel. 
 There was the sail-room (full, of sails) at the other. 
 There was the ladies' cabin (used as the ladies' 
 dressing-room; inaccessible, in that capacity, to 
 every male human being on board). Was there any 
 disposable enclosed space to be found amidships? 
 On one side there were the sleeping-berths of the 
 
THE STORE-BOOM. 29 
 
 sailing master and his mate (impossible to borrow 
 them). On the other side was the steward's store- 
 room. Launce considered for a moment. The 
 steward's store-room was just the thing ! 
 
 "Where are yooi going? "asked Natalie, as her 
 lover made straight for a closed door at the lower 
 extremity of the main-cabin. 
 
 tr To speak to the steward, darling. Wait one 
 moment, and you will see me again." 
 
 Launce opened the store-room door, and discovered, 
 not the steward, but his wife, who occupied the 
 situation of stewardess on board the vessel. The 
 accident was, in this case, a lucky one. Having 
 stolen several kisses at sea, and having been discov- 
 ered (in every case) either by the steward or his 
 wife, Launce felt no difficulty in prefacing his request 
 to be allowed the use of the room by the plainest 
 allusion to his relations with Natalie. He could 
 count on the silence of the sympathizing authori- 
 ties in this region of the vessel, having wisely 
 secured them as accomplices by the usual persuasion 
 of the pecuniary sort. Of the two, however, the 
 stewardess, as a woman, was the more likely to lend 
 a ready ear to Launce's entreaties in his present 
 emergency. After a feint show of resistance, she 
 consented, not only to leave the room, but to keep 
 her husband out of it, on the understanding that it 
 was not to be occupied for more than ten minutes. 
 Launce made the signal to Natalie at one door, 
 while the stewardess went out by the other. In a 
 
80 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 moment more the lovers were united in a private 
 room. Is it necessary to say in what language the 
 proceedings were opened ? Surely not ! There is 
 an inarticulate language of the lips in use on these 
 occasions, in which wer are all proficient — though we 
 sometimes forget it in later life. Natalie seated 
 herself on a locker. The tea, sugar and spices were 
 at her back, a side of bacon swung over her head, 
 and a net full of lemons dangled before her face. 
 It might not be roomy, but it was snug and comfort- 
 able. 
 
 " Suppose they call for the steward ? " she sug- 
 gested. (" Don't, Launce ! ") 
 
 " Never mind. We shall be safe enough if they 
 do. The steward has only to show himself on deck, 
 and they will suspect nothing." 
 
 " Do be quiet, Launce ! I have got dreadful news 
 to tell you. And, besides, my aunt will expect to 
 see me with my braid sewn on again." 
 
 She had brought her needle and thread with her. 
 Whipping up the skirt of her dress on her knee, she 
 bent forward over it, and set herself industriously 
 to the repair of the torn trimming. In this position 
 her lithe figure showed charmingly its firm yet easy 
 line. The needle, in her dexterous brown fingers, 
 flew through its work. The locker was a broad 
 one ; Launce was able to seat himself partially be- 
 hind her. In this position who could have resisted 
 the temptation so lift up her great knot of broadly 
 plaited black hair, and to let the warm, dusky nape 
 
THE STORE-ROOM. 31 
 
 of her neck disclose itself to view ? Who, looking 
 at it, could fail to revile the senseless modern fashion 
 of dressing the hair, which hides the double beauty 
 of form and color that nestles at the back of a wo- 
 man's neck. From time to time, as the interview 
 proceeded, Launce's lips emphasized the more im- 
 portant words, occurring in his share of the conver- 
 sation, on the soft, fragrant skin which the lifted 
 hair let him see at intervals. In Launce's place, 
 sir, you would have done it too. 
 
 "Now, Natalie, what is the news?" 
 
 " He has spoken to papa, Launce." 
 
 " Richard Turlington ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Damn him!" 
 
 Natalie started. A curse addressed to the back 
 of your neck, instantly followed by a blessing in the 
 shape of a kiss, is a little trying when you are not 
 prepared for it. 
 
 " Don't do that again, Launce ! It was while you 
 were on deck, smoking, and when I was supposed to 
 be fast asleep. I opened the ventilator in my cabin 
 door, dear, and I heard every wo^d they said. He 
 waited till my aunt was out of the way, and he had 
 got papa all to himself, and then he began it in that 
 horrible downright voice of his — • Graybrooke I how 
 much longer am I to wait?' " 
 
 "Did he say that?" 
 
 " No more swearing, Launce ! Those were the 
 words. Papa didn't understand them. He only 
 
82 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 said (poor dear !) — ' Bless my soul, Richard, what do 
 you want ? ' Richard soon explained himself. ' Who 
 could he be waiting for — but Me?' Papa said 
 something about my being so young. Richard stop- 
 ped his mouth directly. 'Girls were like fruit; 
 some ripened soon, and some ripened late. Some 
 were women at twenty, and some were women at 
 sixteen. It was impossible to look at me, and not 
 see that I was like a new being after my two months 
 at sea,' and so on and so on. Papa behaved like an 
 angel. He still tried to put it off. ' Plenty of time, 
 Richard, plenty of time.' 'Plenty of time for her' 
 (was the wretch's answer to that), * but not for me. 
 Think of all I have to offer her ' (as if I cared for 
 his money J), ' think how long I have looked upon 
 her as growing up to be my wife ' (growing up for 
 him — monstrous 1), * and don't keep me in a state of 
 uncertainty, which it gets harder and harder for a 
 man in my position to endure ! ' He was really quite 
 eloquent. His voice trembled There is no doubt, 
 dear, that he is very, very fond «>f me." 
 
 "And you feel flattered by it, oi course?" 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense. I feel a little frightened 
 at it, I can tell you." 
 
 " Frightened ? Did ym notice bin* this morning? " 
 
 "I? When?" 
 
 " When your father was telling that story about 
 the man overboard." 
 
 " No. What did he do? Tell me, Launce." 
 
 "I'll tell you directly. How did it *U e*4 last 
 
THE STORE-ROOM. 3& 
 
 night ?_ Did^your father make any sort of prom- 
 iseT" >" \ 
 
 "You know Richard's way; Richard left him no 
 other choice. Papa had to promise before he was 
 allowed to go to bed.' 1 
 
 " To let Turlington marry you? " 
 " Yes ; the week after my next birthday." 
 it The week after next Christmas Day ? " 
 ""Yes, Papa is to_speak to me as soon as we are 
 at . home again, and my married life is to begin with 
 the New Year." 
 
 "Are you in earnest, ^Natalie ? Do you really 
 mean to say it has gone as far as that ? " 
 
 "They have settled everything. The v splendid 
 establishment we are to set up,_±he great income we 
 are to have. I heard papa teU Richard that half his 
 fortune should go to me onmy wedding-day. It was 
 sickening to hear how much they made of Money, 
 and how little they thought of Love. What am I 
 to do, Launce ? " 
 
 " That's easily answered, my darling. In the first 
 place, you are to make up your mind not to marry 
 Richard, Turlington — " 
 
 v " Do talk reasonably. You know I have done all 
 I could. I have told papa that. I can think^of Rich- 
 ard as a friend, but not as a husband. He only 
 laughs at me, and says, 'Wait a little, and you will 
 alter your opinion, my dear.' You see Richard is" 
 everything to him; Richard has always managecThis 
 affairs, and has saved him from losing by bad speuu- 
 3 
 
34 MISS OK MBS.? 
 
 lations ; Richard has known me from the time when 
 I was a child ; Richard has a splendid business, and 
 quantities of money. Papa can't even imagine that 
 I can resist Richard. I have tried my aunt; I have 
 told her he is too old for me. All she says is, ' Look 
 at your father ; he was much older than your mother, 
 and what a happy marriage theirs was.' Even if I 
 said in so many words, 'I won't marry Richard,' 
 what good would it do us f Papa is the best and 
 dearest old man in the world ; but oh, he is so fond 
 of money! He believes in nothing else. He would 
 be furious — yes, kind as he is, he would be furious— 
 if I even hinted that I was fond oi you. Any man 
 who proposed to marry me— if he couldn't match 
 the fortune, that I sbould bring him by a fortune of 
 his own— would be a lunatic in papa's eyes. He 
 wouldn't think it necessary to answer him ;_ he. would 
 ring the bell, and have him shown out of the house. 
 I am exaggerating nothing, Launce ; you know I am 
 speaking the truth. There is no hope in the future 
 —that I can see — for either of us." , N 
 
 " Have you done, Natalie ? I have something to 
 say on my side if you have." 
 
 " What isit? " 
 
 " If things go x»n as they are going on now, shall I 
 tell you howit will end? It will end in your being 
 Turlington's wifd." 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " So you say now ; but yon don't know what may 
 happen between this and, Christmas JDay. Nataiie I 
 
THE STORE-BOOM. 35 
 
 there is only one way of making sure that you will 
 never marry Richard. Marry me" 
 
 " Without papa's consent ? " 
 
 " Without saying a word to anybody till its done." 
 
 " Oh, Launce ! Launce ! *' 
 
 "My darling, every word you have said proves 
 -there is no other way. Think of it, Natalie, think 
 of it.' v 
 
 There was a pause. Natalie dropped her needle 
 and thread, and hid her face in her hands. " If my 
 poor mother was only alive," she said ; " if I only 
 had an elder sister to advise me, and to take my 
 part." ^ ; 
 
 .- She was evidently hesitating, Launce took a 
 man's advantage of her indecision. He pressed her 
 without mercy. > ^ , 
 
 "Do you love me? 1 ' he whispered, with his lips 
 close to her ear. - 
 
 "You know I do, dearly." 
 
 " Put it out of Richard's power to part us, Natalie." 
 
 "Part us? We are cousins; we have known each 
 other since we were both children. Even if he pro- 
 posed parting us, papa wouldn't allow it." 
 
 " Mark my word, he will propose, it. As for your 
 father, Richard has only to ■ lift his finger and your 
 father obeys him. My 16ve, the happiness of both 
 our lives is' at stake. 1 ' He wound his arm around 
 her, and gently drew her head back on his-bosom, 
 " Other girls have done it, darling," he pleaded* " why 
 shouldn'' you?" 
 
36 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 The effort to answer him was too much for her. 
 'She gave it up. A low sigh fluttered through her 
 lips. She- nestled closer to him, and faintly closed 
 ber eyes. The next instant .she started up,, tremb- 
 ling from head to foot, and looked at the skylight. 
 Richard Turlington's voice was suddenly audible on 
 deck exactly above them. . „ 
 
 " Graybrooke, I_want to say a word to you about 
 Launcelot Linzie." i 
 
 Natalie's first impulse was to fly to the door. 
 Hearing Launce's , name on Richard's lips, she 
 checked herself. Something in Richard's tone 
 roused in her the curiosity which suspends fear. 
 She waited, with her hand in Launce's hand. 
 
 " If you remember," the brassy voice went on, " I 
 doubted the wisdom of taking him with us on this 
 cruise. You didn't agree with me, and, at your ex- 
 press request, I gave way. I did wrong. Launce- 
 ' lot Einzie is a very presuming young man." - 
 
 Sir Joseph's answer was accompanied by Sir 
 Joseph's mellow laugh. 
 
 " My dear Richard I Surely you are a little hard 
 on Launce ? " 
 
 "You are not an observant man, Graybrooke. 1 I 
 am. I see signs of his presuming with all of us, and 
 especially with Natalie. I don't like the manner in 
 which he speaks to her, and looks at heT. He is un- 
 duly familiar ; he is insolently confidential. There 
 must be a stop put to it In my ppsition, my feel- 
 
st ;xCBii-uooM. 37 
 
 ings ought $o be regarded. I request you to check 
 the intimacy jwhen we get on shore." - 
 
 Sir Joseph's next words were spoken more seri- 
 ously. He expressed his surprise. 
 
 " My dear Richard, they are cousins, they have 
 been playmates fr6*m childhood.^ How canyon think 
 of attaching the slightest^importance 'to anything 
 that is said or done by poor Launce? " , 
 
 There was a good-humored contempt in Sir 
 Joseph's reference to " poor Launce " which jarred 
 on his daughter^ He might almost have been allud-, 
 ing' to some harmless domestic animal. Natalie's 
 color deepened. Her hand pressed Launce's hand 
 gently. _ 
 
 Turlington still persisted. 
 
 " I must once more request— seriously request — 
 that you will cheek this growing intimacy. I don't 
 object to your asking him to the house when you 
 ask other friends. I only wish y6u (and expect you) 
 to stop : his ' dropping in,' as it is called, at any hour 
 of the day or evening when he may have nothing to 
 do. Is that understood between us?," 
 
 " If you make a poin-t of it, Richard^ of course it's 
 understood between us." - 
 
 Launce looked at Natalie, as "weak Sir Joseph con- 
 sented in those" words. 
 
 "• What did I tell you ? " he whispered. 
 
 Natalie hung her head in silence. There was a 
 pause in the conversation on deck. The two gentle* 
 
88 MISS OEVMRS.? 
 
 --men walked away slowly toward the forward part oi 
 the vessel. . ' y ., 
 
 Launce pursued his advantage. 
 
 " Your father leaves us no alternative," he said. 
 " The door will be closed against me as soon as we 
 get on ' shore. , If I lose you, Natalie, I don't care 
 what becomes of me. My profession may go to the 
 devil. I have nothing left worth living for." 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! don't talk in that way I " 
 1 Launce tried the soothing influence of persuasion 
 once more. , 
 
 " Hundreds and hundreds of people in our situa- 
 tion have married privately — and have been forgiven 
 afterward," he went on. "I won't ask you to do; 
 anything . in a hurry. I will be guided entirely by 
 your wishes. All I want to quiet my mind is to 
 know that you are mine. ' Do, do, do let me feel 
 sure that Richard Turlington _can't take you away 
 from me." s 
 
 "Don't press me, Launce." She dropped on -the 
 locker. "See!" she said. '"-It makes me tremble 
 only to think of it ! " 
 
 " Who are you afraid of, darling ? Not your father, 
 surely?" 
 
 ". " Poor papa 1 I wonder whether: he would be hard 
 on me for the first time in his life?" She stopped; 
 her moistening eyes ^looked up imploringly in 
 Launce's face.. " Don't press me ! " she repeated 
 faintly. "You know it's wrong. We should have 
 to confess it- >and then what would happea?" She 
 
$BE ST6JRE-E00M. 30 
 
 paused algain. Her eyes wandered nervously to the 
 deck. Her voice dropped to its lowest tones. 
 '"Think of Richard!" she said, and shuddered at 
 the terrors which that name conjured up. Before it 
 was possible to say a quieting word to her, she was* 
 again on her feet. Richard's name had suddenly 
 recalled 'to her memory Launce's mysterious allusion, 
 at the Outset of the interview, to the owner of the 
 yacht. "What was that you said about Richard 
 just how?" she asked. "You saw something (or 
 # heard something) strange, while papa was telling his 
 story. What was it ? " 
 
 " I noticed Richard's face* Natalie, when your 
 father told us that the man overboard was not one 
 of the pilot boat's crew. He ijurned ghastly pale. 
 He looked guilty— " 
 
 "Guilty! Of what?" 
 
 " He was present — I am certain of it — when the 
 . sailor was thrown into the sea. For all I know, he 
 may have been the man who did it." 
 
 Natalie started back in horror. 
 
 "Oh, Launce ! Launce I that is too bad. You 
 
 may not like Richard — you may treat Richard as 
 
 ,your enemy. But to say such a horrible thing of 
 
 him as that — ! It's riot generous. It's npt like 
 
 you." 
 
 " If you had seen him you would have said it too. 
 I mean to make inquires — in your father's interests 
 as well as in ours. My brother knows one of the 
 Commissioners of Police ; and my brother can get it 
 
40 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 done for me. Turlington has not always been in 
 the Levant trade — I know, that already. 
 
 "For shame, Launce ! for shame ! "" 
 
 The footsteps on deck were audible, coming back. 
 Natalie sprang to the door leading" into the cabin. 
 Launce stopped "her, as she laid her band on the 
 lock. The footsteps went straight on toward the 
 stern of the vessel. Launce clasped both arms 
 round her. Natalie gave way. 
 
 " Don't drive me to despair," he said- " This is 
 my last opportunity. I -don'fask you to say at once 
 that you will marry me — I only ask you to think of 
 it. My darling ! my angel ! will you think of it ? " 
 
 As he put the question, they might have heard 
 (if they had not been too completely engrossed in 
 each other to listen) .the footsteps returning^ one 
 pair of footsteps only, this time. Natalie's prolonged 
 absence had begun to surprise her~aurit, and had 
 roused a certain vague distrust in Uichard's mind. 
 He walked back again along the deck by himself. 
 He looked absently into the main cabin as he passed 
 it. The store-room skylight came next. In his 
 present frame of mind would he look- absently into 
 the store-room, too ? 
 
 "Letme go! " said Natalie. 
 I Launce only answered, " Say yes — " and held her 
 as if he would never let her go again. 
 
 At the same moment Miss Lavinia's voice rose 
 shrill from the deck, calling for Natalie. There was 
 but one way of getting free from him. She said, 
 
THE STORE-ROOM. 41 
 
 " I'll think of it." Upon that, he kissed her and let 
 her go. 
 
 The door had barely closed on her, when the low- 
 ering face of Richard Turlington appeared on level 
 with the side of the skylight — looking down into 
 the store-room at Launce. 
 
 " Hullo I " he called out roughly. " What are you 
 doing in the steward's room ? " 
 
 Launce took up a box of matches on the dresser. 
 "I'm 1 getting a light," he answered readily. 
 
 "I allow nobody below, forward of the main 
 cabin, _without my leave. The ^steward has per* 
 mitted a breach of discipline on board my vessel. 
 The steward will leave my service." 
 
 " The steward is not to blame." 
 
 " I am the judge of that. Not you," 
 
 Launce opened his lips to reply. An outbreak 
 between the two men appeared to be inevitable-— 
 when the sailing master of the ya'cht joined his 
 employer on deck, and directed Turlington's atten- 
 tion to a question which is never to be trifled with 
 at' sea, the question of wind and tide. 
 
 The yacht was then in the Bristol Channel, at the 
 entrance to Bideford Bay. The breeze, fast freshen- 
 ing, was also fast changing the direction from which 
 it blew. The favorable tide had barely three* hours 
 more to run. - 
 
 " The wind's shifting, sir," said the sailing-master. 
 " I'm afraid we shan't get round the point this tide, 
 unless we lay her off on the other tack," 
 
42 MISS OB MRS.? 
 
 Turlington's shook his head. 
 
 There are letters waiting for me at Bideford," he 
 said. "We have lost two days in the calm. I must 
 send ashore to the post-office, whether we lose the 
 tide or not." 
 
 The vessel held on her course. Off the port of 
 Bideford, the boat was sent ashore to the post office ; 
 the yacht standing off and on, waiting the appear- 
 ance of the letters. In the shortest time in which it 
 was possible to bring them' on board, the letters were 
 in Turlington's hands. 
 
 The men were hauling the boat up to the davits, 
 the yacht was already heading off from the land, 
 when Turlington startled everybody by one peremp- 
 tory word — " Stop I " 
 
 He had thrust all his letters but one into the 
 pocket of his . sailing jacket, without reading .them. 
 The one letter which he had opened, he held in his 
 closed hand. Rage was in Jiis staring eyes; con- 
 sternation was on his pale lips. 
 
 " Lower the boat I " he shouted ; " I mus,t get to 
 London to-night." He stopped Sir Joseph, approach- 
 ing him with open mouth. " There's no time for 
 questions and answers. I must get back." He 
 swung himself over the side of the yacht, and ad- 
 dressed .the sailing-master from the boat. , "Save 
 the tide if you can; if you can't put them ashore 
 to-morrow, at Minehead, or Watchet — wherever you 
 like." He beckoned to Sir Joseph to lean over the 
 bulwark, and hear something he had to say in s pri- 
 
THE STORE-ROOM. 43 
 
 vate. " Remember what I told you about Launcelot 
 Linzie!'' he t . whispered fiercely. His parting look 
 was for Natalie. He i spoke to her with a strong 
 ..eonstrain^on himself, as gently as he could. " Don't 
 be alarmed ; I shall see you, in* London." He seated 
 liimself in the boat, and took the tiller. The last 
 4 words they heard him say were words urging the 
 men ft the oars to lose no time. He was invariably 
 brutal with the men.'** " Pull, you lazy beggars ! " he 
 exclaimed, with an oath, " Pull for youT lives I " 
 
44 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 l 
 
 THIRD SCENE. 
 
 THE MONEY MABKET. 
 
 Let us be serious.— Business . 
 
 The new scene plunges us head-foremost into 'the 
 affairs of the Levant trading-house of Pizzituti, 
 Turlington, and Branca. What on earth do we 
 know about the Levant Trade ? Courage ! If Ave 
 have ever known what it is to 'want money, we are 
 perfectly familiar with the subject at starting. The 
 Levant Trade does occasionally get into difficulties. 
 —Turlington wanted money. t 
 
 The letter which had been landed to him on 
 board the yacht was from his third partner, Mr. 
 Branca, and was thus expressed : — 
 
 " A crisis in the trade. All right, so far — except 
 our business with the small foreign firms. Bills to 
 meet from those quarters (say), forty .thousand 
 pounds-7-and, I fear,~no remittances to cover them. 
 Particulars stated in another -letter addressed to you 
 at Post-office, Ilfracombe. I am quite broken down 
 with anxiety, and confined to ray bed. Pizzituti is 
 still detained at Smyrna. Come back at once." 
 
 The same evening. Turlington was at his office in 
 Austin Friars, investigating the state of affairs, with 
 his head clerk to help him. 
 
 Stated briefly, the business of the firm was of the 
 widely miscellaneous sort. They plied a brisk trade, 
 
THE MONEY MARKET. 45 
 
 in a 1 vast variety of commodities. Nothing came 
 amiss to them, from Manchester cotton manufactures, 
 to -Smyrna figs. They had branch houses at Alexan- 
 dria and Odessa; and correspondents, here, there, 
 and everywhere, along the shores of the Mediterran- 
 ean, and in the ports of the East. These corre- 
 spondents were the persons alluded to in Mr. Branca's 
 ie'tter, as " small foreign firms ; " and they had pro- 
 duced the serious financial crisis in the affairs of the 
 great house in Austin Friars which had hurried 
 Turlington up to London. 
 
 Every one of these minor firms claimed, and re^ 
 ceivedj the privilege of drawing bills on Pizzituti, 
 Turlington, and Branca, for amounts varying' from 
 four to six thousand pounds — on no better security 
 " than a verbal understanding that the money to pay 
 the bills should be forwarded before they -fell due. 
 Competition, it is needless to say, -was at the bottom 
 of this insanely reckless system of trading. The 
 native firms laid it down, as a rule, that they would 
 decline to transact business with any house in the 
 trade which refused to grant them their privilege. 
 Jn the case of Turlington's house the foreign mer- 
 chants had drawn .their bills on him for sums, large 
 in the aggregate, if not. large in "themselves ; had„ 
 long since, turned those bills into /cash in their own 
 markets, for their own necessities ; and had now left 
 the money which their paper represented, to be paid 
 by their London correspondents as it fell due. In 
 some instarices they had sent nothing but promises 
 
46 HISS OB MBS.? 
 
 and excuses. In others, they had forwarded drafts 
 on firms which had failed already, or which were 
 about to fail, in the crisis. After first exhausting 
 his resources in ready money, Mr. Branca had pro- 
 vided for the more pressing necessities by pledging , 
 the credit of the house, so far as he could pledge it 
 without exciting suspicion of the truth. This done, 
 there were actually left, between that time and 
 Christmas, liabilities to be met to the extent of forty 
 thousand pounds, without a farthing in hand to pay 
 that formidable debt. 
 
 After wording through the night, this was the 
 conclusion at which Richard Turlington arrived 
 when the- rising sun looked hr~at him through the 
 windows of his private room. 
 
 The whole force of the blow "had fallen on him. 
 The share of his partners in the business was of 
 the most trifling nature. - The capital was his ; the 
 risk was his. Personally and /privately, Ae had to 
 find the money, or to confront the one other alter- 
 native— =ruin. 
 
 How was the money to be found? . 
 
 With his position in the city, he had only to go to 
 the famous money-lending and discounting house^of 
 Bulplt Brothers — reported to " turn over " millions 
 in their business every year— and to supply himself 
 at once with the . necessary funds. Forty thousand 
 pounds was a trifling transaction to "Bulpit Brothers'. 
 
 Having got the money, how, in the present state 
 of his trade, was the loan to be paid back? 
 
THE MONEY MAEKET. 47 
 
 His thoughts reverted, to his marriage with Na^ 
 talie. 
 
 " Curious ! " he said to himself, recalling his con- 
 versation with Sir Joseph on board the yacht. 
 *<Graybrooke told me he would give his daughter 
 half his fortune oh her marriage. Half Graybooke's 
 1 fortune happens to be just forty thousand pounds 1" 
 He took a turn in the room. No ! It was impossible 
 to apply to Sir Joseph.. Once shake Sir Joseph's 
 conviction of his commercial solidity, and the mar- 
 riage would) be certainly deferred — if not absolutely 
 broken off. Sir Joseph's fortune could be made 
 available, in the present emergency, in but one way 
 — he might use it to repay his debt/ He had only to 
 make the date at which the'loan expired coincide 
 with the date of his marriage, and there was the 
 father-in : law's money at his disposal, or at his wife's 
 disposal — which meant the same" thing. "It's well I 
 pressed Graybrooke about the marriage when I 
 did! " he thought. "I can borrow the taoney-at a 
 short date'. In three months from this, Natalie will 
 be my wife." 
 
 He drove to his club, to 'get breakfast, with his 
 mind cleared, for ; the time being, of all its anxities 
 but one. 
 
 Knowing where he could procure the loan, he was 
 by no means Equally sure of being able to find the 
 security on which he could borrow the money. 
 Living up to his income ; having no expectations 
 from any living creature ; possessing in landed prop- 
 
48 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 erty only some thirty or forty acres in Somerset- 
 shire, with, a quaint little dwelling, half farm-house, 
 half-cottage, attached — he was incapable of provid- 
 ing the needful security from his own personal re- 
 sources. To appeal to wealthy friends in the city 
 would be -to let those friends into the seciet of his 
 embarrassments, and to put his credit in Jjeril. He 
 finished his breakfast, and went back to Austin 
 .friars — faiKng entirely; so far, to see how he was to 
 remove the last obstacle now left in his way. 
 
 The doors were open to the public ; business had 
 begun. Tie had not been ten minutes in his room 
 before the shipping-clerk knocked at the door and 
 interrupted him, still absorbed in his own anxious 
 thoughts. 
 
 " What is it? " he asked, irritably. 
 
 "Duplicate Bills of Lading, sir," answered the 
 clerk, placing the documents on his master's table. 
 
 Found ! There was the security on his writing- 
 desk, staring him in the face ! He dismissed the 
 clerk and Examined the papers. 
 
 They contained an account of goods shipped to 
 the London house, on board vessels sailing from 
 Smyrna and Odessa, and they were signed by the 
 masters of the ships, who thereby acknowledged the 
 receipt of the goods, and undertook to deliver them 
 safely to the persons owning them, as directed. First 
 copies of these papers had already been placed in 
 the possession of the London house. The duplicates 
 had now followed, in case of accident. Richard 
 
THE MONEY MARKET. 49 
 
 Turlington instantly determined to make the dupli- 
 cates serve as his security ; keeping the first copies 
 privately under lock and key, to be used in obtain- 
 ing possession of the goods at the customary time. 
 The fraud was a fraud in appearance only. The se- 
 curity was a pure formality. His marriage would 
 supply him with the fynds needed for repaying the 
 money, and the profits of his business would pro- 
 vide, in course of~time, for restoring the dowry of 
 his wife." It was simply a question of preserving his 
 credit by means which were legitimately at his dis-i 
 posal. Within the lax limits of mercantile morality, 
 Riphard Turlington had a conscience. He N put on 
 his hat and took his false security to the money- 
 lenders, without feeling at all lowered in his own es 1 
 timation as an honest man. 
 
 Bulpit Brothers, long desirous of" having such a 
 name as his on their books, received him with open 
 arms. The security (covering the amount borrowed) 
 was accepted as a matter, of course. The money 
 was lent for thrqe months, with a stroke of the pen. 
 -Turlington stepped out again into the street, and 
 confronted the city of London in the character of 
 the noblest work of mercantile . creation — a solvent 
 man.* , 
 
 , * Jt may not be amiss to remind the incredulous reader 
 that a famous firm in the city aocepted precisely the same 
 security as that here accepted by Bulpit Brothers, with 
 the same sublime indifference to troubling themselves by 
 making anytfnquiry about it. 
 4 
 
60 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 FOURTH SCENE. 
 
 MUSWELL HILIi. 
 
 The next day Turlington drove to the suburbs, 
 on the chance of finding the Graybrookes at home 
 again. Sir_ Joseph disliked London, and could not 
 prevail on himself to live any nearer to the metrop- 
 olis than Muswell Hill. When Natalie wanted a 
 change, and languished- for balls, theatres, flower- 
 shows, and the like, she had a room especially re- 
 served for her in the house of Sir Joseph's married 
 sister, Mrs. Sancroft, living in that central deep of 
 the fashionable whirlpool known among mortals as 
 Berkeley Square. On his way through the streets, 
 Turlington encountered a plain proof that the Gray- 
 brookes must have returned. He was passed by 
 Launce, driving, in company with a gentleman, in a 
 cab. The gentleman was Launce's brother, and the 
 two were on their way to the Commissioner of Police 
 to make the necessary arrangements for instituting 
 an inquiry into Turlington's early life. 
 
 Arrived at the gate of the villa, the information 
 received only partially fulfilled the visitors' expecta- 
 tions. The family had returned on the previous 
 evening. Sir Joseph and his sister were at home, 
 but Natalie was away again already. She had driven 
 into town to lunch with her aunt. N . 
 
MUSWELL HILL. 51 
 
 Turlington went into the house. i 
 
 " Have you lost any money ? " Those were the 
 first words uttered by Sir Joseph when he and 
 Richard met again, after the parting on board the 
 yacht. * y 
 
 " Not a farthing. I might have lost seriously, if 1 
 had not got— back in time to set things straight. 
 Stupidity on the pprt of my people left in 'charge — 
 nothing mor.e._ It's all right now." 
 
 Sir Josephr lifted his eyes, with heartfelt devotion, 
 to the ceiling. " Thank God, Richard ! " he said, in 
 tones of the deepest feeling. He rang the bell. 
 " Tell Miss Graybrooke Mr. Turlington is here." 
 He turned again to Richard. "Lavinia- is like me — 
 Lavinia has been so anxious about.you. We have 
 both of us passed a sleepless night." Miss Lavinia 
 came in. Sirjoseph hurried to meet her, and took 
 her affectionately by both hands. " My dear ! the 
 best of all good news, Richard has >not lost a farth. 
 ing." Tkliss Lavinia lifted her eyes to the ceiling 
 with heartfelt devotion, and said, " Thank God, 
 Richard ! " — like the echo of her brother's voice ; a 
 little late, perhaps, for its reputation as an echo, but 
 accurate to half a note in its perfect repetition of 
 sound. 
 
 Turlington asked the question which it had been 
 his one object to put in paying his visit to Muswell 
 Hill. - 
 
 " Have you spoken to Natalie? " 
 
 M This morning," replied Sir Joseph. •' An oppor- 
 
52 miss on mrs.? 
 
 tunity offered itself after breakfast. I took advan- 
 tage of it, Richard— you shall hear how."i 
 
 He settled himself in his chair^or one of his in- 
 terminable stories ; he began his opening sentence — 
 and stopped, struck dumb at the first word. There 
 was an unexpected obstacle in the way — his sis- 
 ter was not attending* to him; his sister had v 
 silenced him at starting. The story touching this 
 time on the question of marriage, Miss Lavinia 
 had her woman's interest in seeing full justice done 
 to the subject. She seized ou* her brother's narra- 
 tive as on property in her own right. 
 
 " Joseph should have told you," she began, ad- 
 dressing herself to Turlington, "that our dear girl 
 was unusually depressed in spirits this morning. 
 Quite in the right frame of mind for a little serious 
 talk about her future life. She ate nothing at break- 
 fast, poor child, but a morsel of dry toast." 
 
 "And marmalade," said Sir Joseph, striking in at 
 the first opportunity. The story, on this occasion, 
 being 'Miss Lavinia's story, the polite contradictions 
 necessary to its successful progress, were naturally 
 transferred from the sister to the brother, and be- 
 came contradictions on Sir Joseph's side. 
 
 " No," said Miss Lavinia, gently, "if you will have 
 it, Joseph — -jam." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," persisted Sir Joseph, " mar- 
 malade." 
 
 " What does it matter, brother? " 
 
 "Sister! the late great and good Doctor Johnson 
 
MUSWELL HILL. 53 
 
 said accuracy ought always to be studied even in the 
 most trifling things." 
 
 " You will have your way, Joseph " — (this was the 
 formula — answering to Sir Joseph's " Let us waive 
 the point " — which Miss Lavinia used, as a means of 
 conciliating her brother, and getting a fresh start for 
 her story). " Well, we took dear Natalie out be 
 tween us after breakfast, for a little walk in the 
 grounds. My brother opened the subject with in. 
 finite delicacy and tact. 4 Circumstances,' he said, 
 'into which it was not then necessary to enter, mad«# 
 it very desirable, young as she was, to begin to 
 think of her establishment in life.' And then he 
 referred, Richard (so nicely), to your faithful and 
 devoted attachment " "* r 
 
 "Excuse me, Lavinia, I began with Richard's at* 
 tachment, and then I got on to her establishment in 
 life." 
 
 " Excuse me, Josephs You managed it much more 
 delicately than you suppose. You didn't drag Rich- 
 ard in by the head and shoulders in that way." 
 
 " Lavinia ! 1 began with Richard." 
 
 " Joseph ! Your memory deceives you." 
 
 Turlington's impatience broke through all re- 
 straint. 
 
 " How did it end? " he asked. " Did you propose 
 to her that we should be married in the first week of 
 the New Year?" 
 - " Yes ! " said Miss Lavinia. 
 
 *' No I " said Sir Joseph. 
 
54 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 The sister looked at the brother, with an expres- 
 sion of affectionate surprise. The brother looked at 
 the sister with a fund of amiable contradiction, ex- 
 pressed in a low bow. 
 
 ** Do you really mean to deny, Joseph, that you 
 told Natalie we had decided on the first week in the 
 New Year?" 
 
 "I deny the New Year, Lavinia. I said early in 
 January." ~""- 
 
 "You will have your way, Joseph! We were 
 walking in the shrubbery at the time. L~had our 
 dear girl's arm in-mine, and I felt it tremble. She 
 suddenly stopped. ' Oh,' she said, ' not so soon L' I 
 said, ' My dear, consider Richard ! ' She turned to her 
 father. She said, ' Don't, pray don't press it so soon, 
 papa ! I respect Richard ; I like Richard as your 
 true and faithful friend; but I don't love him as I 
 ought to love him if I am to be his wife.*" Imagine 
 her talking in that way! What could she possibly 
 know about it ? Of course we both laughed — " 
 
 " You laughed, Lavinia." 
 
 " You laughed, Joseph." 
 
 " Get on, for Qod's sake ! " cried Turlington, strik- 
 ing his hand passionately on the table by which he 
 was sitting. " Don't madden me by contradicting 
 eafch other ! Did she give way or not ? " 
 
 Miss Lavinia turned to her brother. " Contradict- 
 ing each other, Joseph ! " she exclaimed, lifting her 
 hands in blank amazement. 
 
 " Contradicting each other! " repeated Sir Joseph, 
 
StDSWELL HHiL. 55 
 
 equally astonished on his side. " My dear Richard, 
 what can you be thinking of? I contradict my sis- 
 ter / We never disagreed in our lives." i 
 
 "I contradict my brother! We have never had a 
 cross word between us from the time when we were 
 children." 
 
 - Turlington internally cursed his own irritable 
 temper. ~ i 
 
 " I beg your pardon — both of you," he said. " I 
 didn't know what I was sayingT Make some allow- 
 ance for, me. All my hopes in life are centred in 
 Natalie-; and you have just told me (in her own 
 words, Miss Lavinia) that she doesn't love me. You 
 don't mean any harm, I dare say ; but you cut me to 
 •the heart." r 
 
 This confession, and the look that accompanied it, 
 touched the ready sympathies of the- two old people 
 in the right place. The remainder of the story 
 dropped between them by common consent. They 
 vied with each other in saying the comforting words 
 which would allay their dear' Richard's anxiety. 
 How^ little he knew of young "givls..^ How could he 
 be so foolish (poor fellow !) as to attach any serious 
 importance to what Natalie had said ? As if a young 
 creature in her teens knew the state of her own 
 heart ! Protestatidns and entreaties were matters of 
 course,-in such cases. Tears^ even might be confi- 
 dently expected from a right-minded girl. It had all 
 ended exactly as Richard would haye wished it to 
 end. Sir Joseph had said, "My child! this is a 
 
56 MISS OE MES.? 
 
 matter of experience ; love will come when you.are 
 married." And Miss Lavinia had added, "Dear 
 iNatalie, if you remember your poor mother as I re- 
 member her, you would know that your good father's 
 experience is to be relied on." In that way they had 
 put it to her ; and' she had lmng her head and had 
 given — all that maiden -modesty could be expected 
 to give — a silent consent. The wedding-day was 
 fixed for _ the first week in the New Year. (No, 
 Joseph; not January — the New Year.) "And God 
 Jbless you, Richard ! and may your married life be a 
 long and happy one ! rf ' 
 
 So the average ignorance of human nature, atnd 
 *the average belief in conventional sentiment, com- 
 placently contemplated the sacrifice of one more 
 victim on the all-devouring altar of Marriage ! So 
 Sir Joseph and his sister provided Launcelot'Linzie 
 with the one argument which he wanted' to convince 
 Natalie : " Choose between making the misery of 
 your life by marryiDg Mm, and making the happiness 
 of your life by marrying me." > 
 
 " When shall I see her ? " asked Turlington — with 
 Miss Lavinia (in tears which did her credit), in pos- 
 session of one of his' hands, and Sir Joseph (in tears 
 which did Mm credit) in possession of the other. 
 
 " She will be back to dinner, dear. Richard. ' Stay 
 and dine. ' 
 
 " Thank ? you. ' I must go into the city first. I 
 will come back and dine." 
 
 With that arrangement in prospect, he left them. 
 
MUSWELL HILL. \67 
 
 • An hour later a telegram arrived from Natalie. 
 She had' consented to dine, as well as lunch, in Berke- 
 ley Square — sleeping there that night, and returning 
 the next morning. Her father instantly telegraphed 
 back by the' messenger, insisting on Natalie's return 
 to Muswell Hill that evening, in time to meet Rich- 
 ard Turlington at dinner. ' 
 
 " Quite right, Joseph,*' said Miss Lavinia, looking 
 over her brother's shoulder, while he wrote the tele- 
 gram. 
 
 " She is showing a disposition to coquet with 
 Richard," rejoined Sir Joseph, with the air of a man 
 who knew female human nature in its remotest cor- 
 ner^.- "My telegram, Lavinia, will have its effect." 
 
 Sir Joseph was quite right. His telegram had its 
 effect. It not only brought his daughter back to 
 dinner — it produced' another result which his pro- 
 phetic faculty had failed altpgether to foresee. 
 
 The message reached Berkeley Square at five 
 o'clock in the afternoon. Let us follow the message. 
 
58 MISS OK MRS. ? 
 
 FIFTH SCENE 
 
 THE SQUARE.. ^ 
 
 Between four and five in the afternoon — when 
 the women of the western regions are in their car- 
 riages, and the men are at their clubs — London 
 presents few places more conveniently adapted for 
 purposes of private talk than the solitary garden- 
 enclosure of a squire. 
 
 On the day when Richard Turlington paid his 
 visit to Muswell Hill', two ladies (with a secret ber 
 tween them) unlocked the gate of the railed garden 
 in Berkeley Square. They shut the gate, after- en- 
 tering the enclosure, but carefully forebore to lock 
 it as well, and carefully restricted their, walk to the 
 westward side of the garden. One of them was 
 Natalie Graybrooke. /The other was Mrs. Sancroft's 
 eldest daughter. A certain temporary interest at- 
 tached, in the estimation of society, to this young 
 lady. She had sold well in the, marriage market. 
 In other words, she had recently been raised to the 
 position of Lord Winwood's second'wife ; his lord- 
 ship conferring on the bride not only the honors of 
 the peerage, but the additional distinction of being 
 stepmother to his three single daughters, all older 
 than herself. In person, Lady Win wood was little 
 
THE SQTJABE. 59 
 
 and fair. In character, she was dashing and resolute 
 — a complete contrast to Natalie, and (on that very- 
 account) Natalie's bosom friend. 
 
 " My dear, one ambitious marriage in the family 
 is quite enough! I have made up my mind that 
 you shall marry the man you love. Don't tell me 
 your courage is failing you— the excuse is contempti- 
 ble ; I decline to receive it. Natalie ! the men have 
 a phrase which exactly describes your character : 
 'You want back-bone!'" The bonnet of <the lady 
 who expressed herself in these peremptory terms 
 barely reached the "height of Natalie's shoulder. 
 Natalie might have bloVn the little airy, light-haired, 
 unsubstantial creature over the railings of the gar- 
 den if she had taken a good long breath and stooped" 
 low enough. But who ever, met with-a tall woman 
 Who had a will of her own? Natalie's 'languid 
 brown eyes looked softly down, in submissive atten- 
 tion, from an elevation of five feet seven. Lady 
 Winwood's brisk blue eyes' looked brightly up in 
 despotic command from an elevation of four feet 
 eleven (in her shoes). 
 
 " You are trifling with Mr. Linzie, my dear; Mr. 
 Linzie is a nice fellow. I like him. I won't have 
 that." 
 
 " Mr._ Turlington has nothing to recommend him. 
 He is not a well-bred old gentleman of exalted rank. 
 He is only an odious brute who happens to have 
 made, money. You shall' not marry Mr/ Turlington. 
 And you shall ma,rry Launcelot Linzie." 
 
60 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 '* Will you let me speak, Louisa ? " 
 
 "I will let you answer — rnothing more. Did you 
 come crying to me this morning ? Didn't you say, 
 'Louisa, they have pronounced sentence sn me! I 
 am to be mairied in the first week of the New Year. 
 Help me out of it, for Heaven's sake ! ' You said all 
 that, and more. And what did I do when I had 
 heard your story?" 
 
 " Oh, you were so kind< — " 
 
 "Kind doesn't half express it. I have committed 
 crimes on your account. I have deceived my husband 
 and my mother. For your sake I got mamma to ask 
 Mr. Linzie to lunch (as my friend !). For your sake 
 I have banished my unoffending husband, not an 
 hour since, to his club. You wretched girl, who ar- 
 ranged a private - " conference in the library? Who 
 sent Mr. Linzie off to consult his friend in the Tem- 
 ple on the law of clandestine marriage ? Who sug- 
 gested ^.your telegraphing home, and stopping here 
 for the night? Who madean appointment to meet 
 your young man privately in this detestable, place in 
 ten minutes' time ? I did ! I did ! ,1 did ! All in your 
 interests. All to prevent you from doing what I 
 have done — marrying to please your family instead 
 of to please yourself. (I don't complain, mind, of ' 
 Lord Winwood, or of his daughters. Be is charm- 
 ing; his daughters I shall tame in course of -time. 
 You are different. And Mr., .Turlington, as I ob- 
 served before, is ^, brute.) Very well. Now, what 
 do you owe me on your side ? You owe it to me at 
 
 i 
 
THE SQffAKE. 61 
 
 least to know your own mind. You-don't know it. 
 You coolly inform me that you daren't run the risk 
 after all, and that you can't face the consequences on 
 second thought. I'll tell you-what. You don't den 
 serve that nice fellow who worships the very ground 
 you tread on.- You are a bread-and-butter miss. I 
 don't believe you are fond of him ! " ?:. 
 
 " Not fond of him ! " Natalie stopped, and 
 clasped her hands in despair .of finding language 
 strong enough for the occasion. At the same mo- 
 . ment the sound of a closing gate caught her ear. 
 She looked round. Launce had kept his appoint- 
 ment before his time. Launce was in the garden, 
 \rapidly approaching them. 
 
 "Now for v the Law of- Clandestine Marriage!" 
 said Lady Winwood. "Mr. Linzie^ we will take it 
 sitting." She led the way to one of the benches ill 
 the garden, and placed Launce between Natalie and 
 herself. "Well, Chief Conspirator, have you got 
 the License ? No ?— Does it cost too much ? Can I 
 lend you the money ? " 
 
 "It cost perjury, Lady Winwood, in my case," 
 .said Launce. ^'Natalie is npt of age. I can only 
 get a License by taking my oath ihat I marry her 
 with her father's consent." He r turned piteously to 
 Natalie.^ "I couldn't very well do that" he said, in 
 the tone of a man who feels bound to make an 
 apology, " could I ? " Natalie-shuddered ; Lady Win- 
 wj*6a shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " In your place a woman wouldn't have hesi- 
 
62 MISS OE^MES.? 
 
 tated," heV ladyship remarked. " But men are so 
 selfish. Well? I suppose th6re is-some other 
 way? " -v 
 
 " Yes, there is another way," said Launee. 'j But 
 there is a horrid condition attached -to it— = — " 
 
 "Something worse than perjury, Mr-. Linzie? 
 Murder?" 
 
 " I'll tell you directly, Lady Winwood. The 
 marriage comes first. The eonditiomfollows. There 
 is only one chance for us. We must be married by 
 Banns'." 
 
 " Banns ! " cried Natalie. " Why, banns are 
 publicly proclaimed in church ! " 
 
 " They needn't be proclaimed in your church, you 
 goose," said Lady Winwood. " And," even if 'they 
 were,' nobody would ,be the wiser. You may trust 
 implicitly in the elocution of an English clergy- 
 man!" 
 
 " That's just what my friend said," cried Launee. 
 " ' Take a lodging near a large parish church, in a 
 remote part of London ' — (this is my friend's advice) 
 — ' go to the clerk, tell him you want to be married 
 by banns, and say you belong to that parish. As 
 for the lady, in your place^ I should simplify it. I 
 should say she belonged to the parish too. Give an 
 address, and have some one there to answer ques- 
 tions. How is the clerk to know ? He isn't likely 
 to. be over-anxious about it — his fee is eighteen- 
 pence. . The clerk makes his profit out of you, after 
 you are married. The same rule applies to the par* 
 
THE SQUARE. 63 
 
 son. He will have your names supplied to h^m on a 
 strip of paper, with dozens of other names ; and he 
 will read them out .all' together in one inarticulate 
 jumble in church. You will stand at the altar when 
 your time comes, with Brown and Jones, Nokes and 
 Styles, Jack and Gill. All that yoji will have to do 
 is to take care that your young lady doesn't fall to 
 Jack, and you to Gill by mistake «-r-and. there you 
 are, married by banns.' My friend's opinion, stated 
 in his own words." 
 
 Natalie sighed, and wrung her hands in her lap. 
 " We shall never get through it," she said, despond- 
 -tngly. 
 
 Lady Winwood took a more cheerful view. 
 
 " I, see nothing very formidable, as yet, my dear. 
 But we have still • to hear the end of it. You men- 
 tioned a condition just now, Mr. Linzie." 
 
 "lam coming -to the condition, Lady Winwood* 
 You naturally suppose,-as I did, that I put Natalie 
 into a cab, and run away with her from the church- 
 door?" 
 
 "Certainly. And I throw an old shoe after you 
 for luck, and go home again.'? 
 
 .Launce shook his head ominously. 
 - " Natalie must go home again as well as ypu ! " 
 
 Lady Winwood started. " Is that the condition 
 you mentioned just now?" she asked. 
 
 " That is the condition. I may marry her with- 
 out anything serious coming of it. But, if I run 
 away with her afterward, and if you are there, 
 
64 MTSS OB MES.? 
 
 aiding and abetting me, we are guilty of Abduction, 
 and we may stand, side by side, at the bar of the 
 Old JBailey to answer for it ! ,r 
 
 Natalie sprang to her feet in horror. Lady Win- 
 wood held up one finger warningly, signing to her to 
 let Launce go on. 
 
 M Natalie^ is not sixteen years old," Launce pro- 
 ceeded. " She must go straight back to her father's, 
 house from the church, and I must wait to run away 
 with her till the next birthday. When she's turned 
 sixteen, she s ripe for elopement — not an hour be- 
 fore. There is the law of Abduction! Despotism 
 in a free country — that's what I call it ! " 
 
 Natalie sat down again with an air of relief. 
 
 "It's a very comforting law /think," .she said. 
 " It doesn't force one to take the dreadful step of 
 running away from home all at once. It gives^ One 
 time to consider, and plan, and make up one's mind. 
 I can tell you this, Launce, if I am to be persuaded 
 into marrying you, the law of abduction is the only 
 thing that wUl induce me to do it. You ought to 
 thank the law instead o.f abusing it." 
 
 Launce listened — without conviction. 
 
 " It's a pleasant prospect," he said, " to part at 
 the church door, and to treat my own wife on the 
 footing of a young lady who is engaged to marry 
 another gentleman." 
 
 " It is pleasanter for me," retorted Natalie, " to 
 have Richard Turlington courting me, when I am 
 
THE SQUABB. 65 
 
 all the time your wife ? I shall never be able to do 
 it. I wish I was dead ! " 
 
 " Come ! come I " interposed Lady Winwood. 
 "It's time to be- serious. Natalie's birthday Mr. 
 Linzie, is next Christmas Day. She will be six- 
 teen " 
 
 "At seven in the morning," said Launce ; "I got 
 that out of Sir Joseph. At one minute past seven, 
 Greenwhich mean-time, we may be off together. I 
 got that out_pf the lawyer." 
 
 " And it isn't an eternity to wait from now till 
 Christmas Day. You get that, by way of completing 
 the list of your acquisitions, out of me. In the 
 meantime, can you, or can you not, manage to meet 
 the difficulties in the way of the marriage ? " 
 
 "I have settled everything," Launce answered 
 confidently. " There is not a single difficulty left." 
 
 He turned to Natalie, listening to him in amaze- 
 ment ; and explained himself. It had struck him 
 that he might appeal — with his purse in his hand, 
 of course — to the interest felt in his affairs by the 
 late stewardess of the yacht. That excellent wo- 
 man had volunteered to do all that she could to 
 help him. Her husband had obtained situations 
 for his wife and himself on board another yacht — 
 and they were both eager to assist in any conspiracy 
 in which their late merciless master was destined 
 to play the part of victim. When on shore, they 
 lived in a populous London parish, far away from 
 the fashionable district of Berkeley Square, and 
 5 
 
66 MISS OB MBS. ? 
 
 farther yet from the respectable suburb of Muswell 
 Hill. A room in the house could be nominally 
 engaged for Natalie, in the assumed character of the 
 stewardess's niece — the stewardess undertaking to 
 answer any purely formal questions which might be 
 put by the Church authorities, and to be present at 
 the marriage ceremony. As for Launce, he would 
 actually as well as nominally, live in the district close 
 by ; and the steward, if needful would answer for him. 
 Natalie might call at her parochial residence oc- 
 casionally, under the wing of Lady Winwood; gain-, 
 ing leave of absence from Muswell Hill, on the plea 
 of paying one of her customary visits at her aunt's 
 house. The proceedings, in brief, were arranged in 
 all their details. Nothing was now wanting but the 
 consent of the young lady ; obtaining which, Launce 
 would go to the parish church and give the neces- 
 sary notice of a marriage by banns on the next day. 
 There was the plpt. What did the ladies think of 
 it? 
 
 Lady Winwood thought it perfect. 
 
 Natalie was not so easily satisfied. 
 
 " My father has always been so kind to me I " she 
 said. " The one thing I can't get over, Launce, is 
 distressing papa. If he had been hard on me — as 
 some fathers are— I shouldn't mind." 
 
 She suddenly brightened, as if she saw her posi- 
 tion in a new light. " Why should ypu hurry me ? " 
 she asked. " I am going to dine at my aunt's to-day, 
 
THE SQtTAEE. 67 
 
 and you are coming-in the evening. Give me time ! 
 Wait till to-night." 
 
 Launce instantly entered his protest against- wait- 
 ing a moment longer. Lady Winwood opened her 
 lips to support him. They were both silenced at the 
 same moment by the appearance of one of Mrs. San- 
 croft's servants, opening the gate of the square. 
 
 Lady Winwood went forward to meet the man. 
 A suspicion crossed her mind that he might be bring- 
 ing bad news. 
 
 " What do you want ? " she asked. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my lady — the housekeeper 
 said you were walking here with Miss Graybrooke^ 
 A telegram for Miss Graybrooke." 
 
 Lady Winwood took the telegram from the man's 
 hand ; dismissed him, and went back with it to Na- 
 talie. Natalie opened it nervously. She read the 
 message — and instantly changed. Her ' cheeks 
 flushed deep ; her eyes flashed with indignation. 
 
 " Even papa can be hard on me, it seems, when 
 Richard asks him I " she exclaimed. She handed the 
 telegram to Launce. Her eyes suddenly filled with 
 "tears. " You love, me," she said gently — and stop, 
 ped. " Marry me ! " she added, with a sudden burst 
 of resolution. " I'll risk it ! " 
 
 As she spoke those words, Xady Winwood read 
 the telegram. It ran thus : 
 
 " Sir Joseph Graybrooke, Muswell Hill.' To Miss 
 Natalie Graybrooke, Berkeley Square. Come back 
 
68 MISS OR MKS. ? 
 
 immediately. You are engaged to dine here with. 
 Richard Turlington." 
 
 Lady Winwood folded up the telegram with a 
 malicious smile. "Well done," Sir Joseph!" 
 thought her ladyship. " We might never have per- 
 suaded Natalie — but for you!" 
 
THE CHUECH. 69 
 
 SIXTH -SCENE. 
 
 THE CHUECH. 
 
 The time is morning ; the date is early in the 
 month of November. The place is a church in a 
 poor and populous parish in the undiscovered regions 
 of London, eastward of the Tower, and hard by the 
 river-side. 
 
 A marriage procession of five approaches the altar. 
 The bridegroom is pale, and the bride is frightened. 
 The bride's friend (a resolute-looking little lady) en- 
 courages her in whispers. The two respectable per- 
 sons, apparently man and wife, who complete the 
 procession, seem to be not quite clear as to the posi- 
 tion which " they occupy at the ceremony. The 
 beadle, as he marshals them before the altar, sees 
 something under the surface in this wedding party. 
 Marriages in the lower ranks of" life are the only 
 marriages celebrated here. Is this a runaway match ? 
 The beadle anticipates something out of the com- 
 mon, in the shape of a fee. 
 
 The clergyman (the junior curate) appears from 
 the vestry in his robes. The clerk takes his place. 
 The clergyman's eye rests with a sudden interest 
 and curiosity upon the bride and bridegroom, and on 
 the bride's friend; notices the absence of elderly 
 
70 MISS OR MKS.? 
 
 relatives ; remarks, in the two ladies especially, evi- 
 dences of refinement and breeding, entirely unpar- 
 alleled in his professional experience of bride and 
 bride's friends standing before the altar of that 
 church ; questions, silently and quickly, the eye of 
 the clerk, occupied also in observing the strangers 
 with interest. " Jenkinson" (the clergyman's look 
 asks), "is this all right?" "Sir" (the clerk's look 
 answers), "a marriage by banns ; all the formalities 
 have been observed." The clergyman opens his 
 book. The formalities have been observed ; his duty 
 lies plainly before him. Attention, Launcelot! 
 Courage, Natalie ! The service begins. 
 
 Launce casts a last furtive look round the church. 
 Will Sir Joseph Graybrooke start up and stop it 
 from one of the empty pews ? Is Richard Turling- 
 ton lurking in the organ-loft, and only waiting till 
 the words of the service appeal to him to prohibit 
 the marriage, or " else hereafter for ever to hold his 
 peace?" No. The clergyman proceeds steadily, and 
 nothing happens. Natalie's charming face grows 
 paler and paler, Natalie's heart throbs faster and 
 faster, as the time comes nearer for reading the 
 words which unite them for life.. Lady Winwood 
 herself feels an unaccustomed fluttering in the region 
 of the bosom. Her ladyship's thoughts revert v not 
 altogether pleasantly, to her own marriage : " Ah, 
 me ! what was /thinking of when I was in this posi- 
 tion ? Of the bride's beautiful dress, and of Lady 
 Winwood's coming presentation at Court ? " 
 
the cau&cs. ti 
 
 The service advances to the words in which they 
 plight their troth. Launce has put the ring on her 
 finger. Launce has repeated the words after the 
 clergyman. Launce has married her. Done ! Come 
 what may of it, done ! 
 
 The service ends. Bridegroom, bride, and wit- 
 nesses, go into the vestry to sign the book. The 
 signing, like the service, is serious. No trifling with 
 the truth is possible here. When it comes to Lady 
 Winwood's turn, Lady Winwood must write her 
 name. She does it, but without her usual grace and 
 decision. She drops her handkerchief. The clerk 
 picks it up for her, and notices that a coronet is em- 
 broidered in one corner. 
 
 The fees are paid. They leave the vestry. Other 
 couples, when it is over, are talkative and happy. 
 These two are more silent and more embarrassed 
 than ever. Stranger still, while other couples go off 
 with relatives and friends, all socially united in 
 honor of the occasion, these two and their friends 
 part at the church door. The respectable man and 
 his wife go their way on foot. The little lady with 
 the coronet on her handkerchief puts the bride into 
 a cab, gets in herself, and directs the' driver to close 
 the door, while the bridegroom is standing on the 
 church steps ! The bridegroom's face is clouded, as 
 well it may be. He puts his head in at the window 
 of the cab ; he possesses himself of the bride's hand; 
 he speaks in a whisper; he is apparently not to be 
 shaken off. The little lady exerts her authority, 
 
72 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 separates the clasped hands, pushes the bridegroom 
 away, and cries peremptorily to the driver to go on. 
 The cab starts; the deserted husband drifts deso- 
 lately anyhow down the street. The clerk, who has 
 seen it all, goes back to the vestry, and reports what 
 has happened. s 
 
 The rector (with his wife on his arm) has just 
 dropped into the vestry on business, in passing. He 
 and the curate are talking about the strange mar- 
 riage. The rector, gravely bent on ascertaining that 
 no blame rests with the Church, interrogates, and is 
 satisfied. The rector's wife is not so easy to deal 
 with. She has looked at the signatures in the book. 
 One of the names is familiar to her. She cross-ex- 
 amines the clerk as soon as her husband has done 
 with him. When she hears of the coronet on the 
 handkerchief she points to the signature of " Louisa 
 Winwood," and says to the rector, " I know who it 
 is ! Lord Winwood's second wife. I went to school 
 with his lordship's daughters by his first marriage. 
 We occasionally meet at the Sacred Concerts (on 
 the ' Ladies' Committee ') ; I shall find an oppor- 
 tunity of speaking to them. One moment, Mr. Jen- 
 kinson, I will write down ,the names before you put 
 ' away the book. ' Launcelot Linzie,' ' Natalie Gray- 
 Ibrooke.' Very pretty names; quite romantic. I 
 do delight in a romance. Good-morning." 
 
 She gives the curate a parting smile, and the clerk 
 a parting nod, and sails out of the vestry. Natalie, 
 silently j-eturning in Lady Winwood's company to 
 
THE CHURCH. 73 
 
 Muswell Hill, and Launce, cursing the law of ab- 
 duction as he roams the- streets — little think that the 
 ground is already mined under their feet. Richard 
 Turlington may hear of it now, or may hear of it 
 later. The discovery of the marriage depends en- 
 tirely on a chance meeting between the lord's daugh* 
 ters and the rector's wife. 
 
74 MISS OE MRS.? 
 
 SEVENTH SCENE. 
 
 THE EVENING PARTY. 
 
 Mr. Turlington, -~ 
 
 Lady Winwood At Home, \ 
 
 Wednesday, December 15th.— Ten o'clock. 
 
 " Dearest Natalie, — as the brute insists, the 
 brute must have the invitation which I enclose. 
 Never mind, my child. You and Launee are coming 
 to dinner, and I will see that you have your little 
 private opportunities of retirement afterward. All 
 I expect of you in return is not to look (when you 
 come back) as if your husband had been kissing you. 
 You will certainly let out the secret of those stolen 
 kisses, if you don't take care. At mammals dinner 
 yesterday, your color (when you came out of the 
 conservatory) was a sight to see. Even your shoul- 
 ders were red! They are charming, shoulders, I 
 know, and men take the strangest fancies sometimes. 
 But, my dear, suppose you wear a chemisette next 
 time, if you haven't authority enough over him to 
 prevent his doing it again ! — Your affectionate 
 Louisa." 
 
 The private history of the days that had passed 
 
THE EVENING PAET7. 7& 
 
 since the marriage was written in that letter. An 
 additional chapter — of some importance in its hear- 
 ing on the future — was contributed by the progress 
 of events at Lady Winwood's party. 
 - By previous arrangement with Natalie, the Gray- 
 brookes (invited to dinner) arrived early. Leaving 
 her husband and her stepdaughters to^entertain Sir 
 Joseph and Miss Lavinia, Lady t Winwood took 
 Natalie into her own boudoir, which communicated 
 by a certain opening with the drawing-room. 
 
 " My dear ! you are looking positively haggard 
 this evening. Has anything happened ? " 
 
 "I am nearly worn out, Louisa. The life I am 
 leading is so unendurable that, if Launce pressed 
 me, I believe I should consent to run away with 
 him when we leave your house to-night." 
 
 " You will do nothing of the sort, if you please. 
 Wait -till you are sixteen. I delight in noyelty, but 
 the novelty of appearing at the Old Bailey is beyond 
 my ambition. Is the brute coming to-night?" 
 
 " Of course. He insists on following me wherever 
 I go. He lunched at Muswell Hill to-day. More 
 complaints of my incomprehensible coldness to him. 
 Another scolding from papa. A furious letter from 
 Launce. If I let> Richard kiss my hand again in his 
 presence, Launce warns me he will knock him down. 
 Oh, the meanness and the guiltiness of the life I am 
 leading now I I am in the falsest of all the false 
 positions, Louisa, and you encouraged me to do it. 
 I believe Richard Turlington suspects us. The last 
 
76 MISS OE MRS.? 
 
 two times Launce and I tried to get a minute to- 
 gether at my aunt's, he contrived to put himself in 
 our way". There he was, my dear, with his scowling 
 face, looking as if he longed to kill Launce. Can 
 you do anything for us to-night? Not on my ac- 
 count. But Launce is so impatient. If he can't 
 say two words to me alone this evening, he declares 
 he will come to Muswell Hill, and_ catch me in the 
 garden to-morrow." 
 
 " Compose yourself, my dear j he shall say his two 
 words to-night." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 Lady -Winwood pointed through the curtained 
 windows of the boudoir to the door of the drawing- 
 room. Beyond the door was the staircase landing". 
 And beyond the landing was a second drawing-room, 
 the smallest of the two. 
 
 " There are only three or four people coming to 
 dinner," her ladyship proceeded ; " and a few more 
 in the evening. Being a small party, the small 
 drawing-room will do for us. This drawing-room 
 will not be lit, and there will be only my reading- 
 lamp here in the boudoir. I shall give the signal for 
 leaving the dining-room earlier than usual. Launce 
 will join us before the evening-party begins. The 
 moment he appears, send him in here — boldly before 
 your aunt and all of us." 
 
 "For what?" . 
 
 " For your fan. Leave it there under the sofa- 
 cushion before we go down to dinner. You will sit 
 
THE EVENING PABTY. 77 
 
 next Jbo Launce, and you will give liim private in- 
 structions not to find the fan. You will get impa- 
 tient — you will go to find it yourself — and there you 
 are. Take care of your shoulders, Mrs. Linzie ! I 
 have nothing more to say." 
 
 The guests asked to dinner began to arrive. Lady 
 Winwood was recalled to her duties as mistress of 
 the house. 
 
 It was a pleasant little dinner— with one draw- 
 back. It began too late." The ladies only reached 
 the small drawing-room at ten minutes to ten. 
 Launce was only able to join them as the clock 
 struck. 
 
 "Too late !'" whispered Natalie. "Richard will 
 be here directly." 
 
 " Nobody comes punctually to an eveningparty," 
 said Launce. " Don't let us lose a moment. Send 
 me for your fan."^ 
 
 Natalie opened her lips to say the necessary words. 
 Before she could speak, the servant announoed-^- 
 " Mr. Turlington." 
 
 He came in, with his stiffly-upright shirt collar 
 and his loosely-fitting glossy black clothes. He made 
 his sullen and clumsy bow to Lady Winwood. And 
 then he did, what he had done dozens of times al- 
 ready ; he caught Natalie, with her eyes still bright, 
 and her face still animated (after talking to Launce) 
 — a striking contrast to the cold and unimpulsive 
 young lady whom he was accustomed to see^while 
 Natalie was talking to him. 
 
78 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 Lord Winwood's daughters were persons of some 
 celebrity in the world of ameteur music. Noticing 
 the look that Turlington cast at Launce, Lady Win- 
 wood whispered to Miss Lavinia — who instantly 
 asked the young lady to sing. Launce, in obedience 
 to a sign from Natalie, volunteered to: find the music- 
 books. It is needless to add that he pitched on the 
 wrong volume at starting. As he lifted it from the 
 piano to take it back to the stand, there dropped 
 out from between the leaves a printed letter, looking 
 like a circular. One of the young ladies took it up, 
 and ran her eye over it, with a start. 
 
 " The Sacred Concerts ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 Her two sisters, standing by, looked at each other 
 guiltily : " What will . the Committee say to us ? 
 We entirely forgot the meeting last month." 
 
 " Is there a meeting this month ? " 
 
 They all looked anxiously at the printed letter.. ' 
 
 "Yes! The twenty-third of December. Put it 
 down in your book, Amelia." Amelia, then and 
 there, put it down among the engagements for the 
 latter end of the month. And Natalie's unacknowl- 
 edged husband placidly looked on. 
 
 So did the merciless irony of circumstances make 
 Launce the innocent means of exposing his own 
 secret to discovery. Thanks to his success in laying 
 his hand on the wrong music-book, there would now 
 be a meeting — two good days before the elopement 
 could take place — between the lord's daughters and 
 the rector's wife I 
 
THE EVENING PAKTY. 79 
 
 The guests of the evening began to appear by 
 twos and threes. The gentlemen below-stairs left 
 the dinner-table, and joined them. 
 
 The small drawing-room was pleasantly filled, and 
 no more. Sir Joseph Graybrooke, taking Turling- 
 ton's hand, led him eagerly to their host. The talk 
 in the dining-room had turned on finance. Lord 
 Winwood was not quite . satisfied with some of his 
 foreign investments ; and Sir Joseph's " dear Rich- 
 ard " was the very man to give him a little sound 
 advice. The three laid their heads together in a 
 -corner. Launce (watching them) slyly pressed 
 Natalie's hand. A renowned " virtuoso " had ar- 
 rived, and was thundering on the piano. The 
 attention of the guests generally was absorbed in 
 the performance. A fairer chance of sending 
 Launce for the fan could not possibly have offered 
 itself. While the financial discussion was still pro- 
 ceeding, the married lovers were ensconsed together, 
 alone in the boudoir. 
 
 Lady Winwood (privately, observant of their 
 absence) kept her eye on the corner, watching Rich- 
 ard Turlington. 
 
 He was talking earnestly — with his back toward 
 the company. He neither moved nor looked round. 
 It came tp Lord Winwood's turn to speak. He 
 preserved the same position, listening. Sir Joseph 
 took up the conversation next. Then his attention 
 wandered — he knew beforehand what Sir Joseph 
 vould say. His eyes turned anxiously toward the 
 
80 MISS OR MRS..? 
 
 place in which he had left Natalie. Lord Winwood 
 said a word. His head turned back again toward 
 the corner. Sir Joseph put an objection. He 
 glanced once more over his shoulder — this time, at 
 the place in which Launce had been standing. The 
 next moment his host recalled his attention, and 
 made it impossible for him to continue his scrutiny 
 of the room. At the same time, two among the 
 evening-guests, bound for another party, approached 
 to take leave of the lady of the house. Lady Win 
 wood was obliged to rise, and attend to them. They 
 had something to say to her before they left, and 
 they said it at terrible length; standing so as to 
 intercept her»view of the proceedings of the enemy. 
 When she had got rid of them at last, she looked— 
 and behold Lord Winwood and Sir Joseph were the 
 only occupants of the corner ! 
 
 Delaying one moment, to set the " virtuoso " 
 thundering once more, Lady Winwood slipped out 
 of the room, and crossed the landing. At the en- 
 trance to the empty drawing-room she heard Tur- 
 lington's voice, low and threatening, in the boudoir. 
 Jealousy has a Second Sight of its own. He had 
 looked in the right place at starting— and, oh 
 heavens ! he had caught them. 
 
 Her ladyship's courage was beyond dispute ; but 
 she turned pale, as she approached the entrance to 
 the boudoir. 
 
 There stood Natalie — at once angry and afraid — 
 between the man to whom she was ostensibly 
 
THE EVENING PAETT. 81 
 
 engaged, and the man to whom she was actually 
 married. Turlington's rugged face expressed a 
 martyrdom of suppressed rage. Launce — in the act 
 of offering Natalie her fan — smiled with the cool 
 superiority of a man who knew that he had won his 
 advantage, and who triumphed in knowing it. 
 
 " I forbid you to take your fan from that man's 
 hands," said Turlington, speaking to Natalie, and 
 'pointing to Launce. 
 
 " Isn't it rather too soon to begin ' forbidding ' ? " 
 asked Lady Winwood, good-humoredly. 
 
 " Exactly what I say ! " exclaimed Launce. " It 
 seems necessary to remind Mr. Turlington that he is 
 not married to Natalie yet ! " 
 
 Those last words were spoken in a tone which 
 made both the women tremble inwardly for results. 
 Lady Winwood took the fan from Launce with one 
 hand, and took Natalie's arm with the other. 
 
 " There is your fan, my dear," she said in her easy 
 off-hand manner. "Why do you allow these two 
 barbarous men to keep you here while the great 
 Bootman is playing the Nightmare Sonata in the 
 next room ? Launce ? Mr. Turlington ! follow me, 
 and learn to be musical directly ! You have only to 
 shut your eyes, and you will fancy you hear four 
 modern German composers playing, instead of one", 
 and not the ghost of a melody among all four." 
 She led the way out with Natalie, and whispered, 
 "Did he catch you?" Natalie whispered back, " I 
 heard him in time. He only caught us looking *or 
 6 
 
82i MISS OB MRS.? 
 
 the fan." The two men waited behind to have two 
 words together, alone in the boudoir. 
 
 " This doesn't end here, Mr. Linzie ! " 
 
 Launce smiled satirically. "For once, I agree 
 with you," he answered. "It doesn't end\here, as 
 you say." 
 
 Lady Winwood stopped, and looked back at them 
 from the drawing-room door. They were keeping 
 her waiting — they had no choice but to follow the 
 mistress of the house. 
 
 Arrived in jthe next room, both Turlington and 
 Launce resumed their places among the guests with 
 the same object in view. As a necessary result of 
 the scene in the boudoir, each had his own special 
 remonstrance to address to Sir Joseph. Even here, 
 Launce was beforehand with Turlington. He was 
 the first to get possession of Sir Joseph's private ear. 
 His complaint took the form of a protest against 
 Turlington's jealousy, and an appeal for a reconsid- 
 eration of the sentence which excluded him from 
 Muswell Hill. Watching them from a distance, 
 Turlington's suspicious eye detected the appearance 
 of something unduly confidential in the colloquy 
 between the two. Under cover of the company, he 
 stole behind them and listened. ^ 
 
 The great Bootman had arrived at that part of the 
 Nightmare Sonata in which musical sound, produced 
 principally with the left hand, is made to describe, 
 beyond all possibility of mistake, the rising of the 
 moon in a country churchyard, and a dance of Vam- 
 
THE EVEHING PARTY 83 
 
 pires round a maiden's grave. Sir Joseph, having no 
 chance against the Vampires in a whisper, was 
 obliged to raise his voice to make himself audible in 
 answering and comforting Launce. "I sincerely 
 sympathize with you," Turlington heard him say ; 
 "and Natalie feels about it as I do. But Richard is 
 an obstacle in our way. We must look to the con- 
 sequences, my dear boy ; supposing Richard found 
 us out?" He nodded kindly to his nephew; and, 
 declining to pursue the subject, moved away to an 
 other part of the room. 
 
 Turlington's jealous distrust, wrought to the high- 
 est pitch of irritability for 'weeks past, instantly as- 
 sociated the words he had just heard with the words 
 spoken by Launce in the boudoir, which had re- 
 minded him that he was not married to Natalie yet. 
 Was there treachery at work under the surface ? and 
 was the object to persuade weak Sir Joseph to re- 
 consider his daughter's contemplated marriage in a 
 sense favorable to Launce ? Turlington's blind sus- 
 picion overleapt at a bound all the manifest improba- 
 bilities which forbade such a conclusion as this. 
 After an instant's consideration with himself, he de- 
 cided on keeping his own counsel, and on putting 
 Sir Joseph's good faith, then and there, to a tesi 
 which he could rely on as certain to take Natalie's 
 father by surprise. - 
 
 " Graybrooke ! " k 
 
 Sir Joseph started at the sight of his future son- 
 in-law's face. 
 
84 MISS OE MBS.? 
 
 " My dear Richard, you are looking very strangely ! 
 Is the heat of the room too much for you ? " 
 
 "Never mind the heat! I have seen enough to- 
 night to justify me in insisting that your daughter 
 and Launcelot Linzie shall meet no more between 
 this and the day of my marriage." Sir Joseph at- 
 tempted to speak. Turlington declined to give him 
 the opportunity. "Yes! yes I^your opinion of Lin- 
 zie isn't mine, I know. I saw you as thick as thieves 
 together just now." Sir Joseph once more attempted 
 to make himself heard. Wearied by Turlington's 
 perpetual complaints of his daughter and his nephew, 
 he was sufficiently irritated by this time to have re- 
 ported what Launce had actually said to him if he 
 had been allowed the chance. But Turlington per- 
 *flsted in going on. " I cannot prevent Linzie from 
 being" received in this house, .and at your sister's," 
 he said ; "l)iit I can keep him out of my house in the 
 country, and to the country let us go. I propose a 
 change in the arrangements. Have you any engage- 
 ment for the Christmas holidays? " 
 
 He paused, and fixed his eyes attentively on Sir 
 Joseph. Sir Joseph, booking a little surprised, re- 
 plied briefly that he had no engagement. 
 
 " In that case," resumed Turlington, " I invite you 
 all to Somersetshire, and I propose that the marriage 
 shall take place from my house, and not from yours. 
 Do you refuse ? " 
 
 " It is contrary to the usual course of proceeding 
 in such cases, Richard," Sir Joseph began. 
 
THE EVENING PAHTST. 85 
 
 " Do you refuse ? " reiterated Turlington. " I tell 
 you plainly, I shall place a construction of my own 
 upon your motive if you do." 
 
 "No, Richard," said Sir Joseph quietly, "I ac- 
 cept." 
 
 Turlington drew back a step in silence. Sir 
 Joseph had turned the tables on him, and had taken 
 him by surprise. 
 
 " It will upset several plans, and be strongly ob- 
 jected to by the ladies," proceeded the old gentle- 
 man. " But if nothing less will satisfy you, I say, 
 Yes ! I shall have occasion, when we meet to-mor- 
 row at Muswell Hill, to appeal to your indulgence 
 under circumstances which may greatly astonish you. 
 The least I can do in the mean time is to set ah ex- 
 ample of friendly, sympathy and forbearance on my 
 side. No more now, Richard. Hush! the music!" 
 
 It was impossible' to make him explain himself 
 further that night. Turlington was left to interpret 
 Sir Joseph's mysterious communication with such 
 doubtful aid to success as his own unassisted inge- 
 nuity might afford. 
 
 The meeting of the next day at Muswell Hill had 
 for its object — as Turlington had already been in- 
 formed — the drawing of Natalie's marriage settle- 
 ment. Was the question of money at the bottom of 
 Sir Joseph's contemplated appeal to his indulgence? 
 He thought of his commercial position. The de- 
 pression in the Levant trade still continued. Never 
 had his business at any previous time required such 
 
86 MISS OE MRS.? 
 
 constant attention; and repaid that attention with so 
 little profit. The bills of lading had been already- 
 used by the firm, in the ordinary course of trade, to 
 obtain possession of the goods. The duplicates in 
 the hands of Bulpit Brothers were literally waste 
 paper. Repayment of the loan of forty thousand 
 pounds, with interest, was due in less than a month's 
 time. There was his commercial position ! Was it 
 possible that money-loving Sir Joseph had any modi- 
 fication to propose in the matter of his daughter's 
 dowry? The bare dread that it might be so, struck 
 him cold. He quitted the house — and forgot to wish 
 Natalie good-night. 
 
 Meanwhile, Launce had left the evening party be- 
 fore him — and Launce also found matter for serious 
 reflection presented to.his mind before he slept that 
 night. In other words, he found on reaching, his 
 lodgings, a letter from his brother, marked " private." 
 Had the inquiry into the secrets of Turlington's early 
 life — now prolonged over some weeks — led to posi- 
 tive results at last? Launce eagerly opened the 
 letter. It contained a Report and a Summary. He 
 passed at once to the Summary, and read these 
 "words : 
 
 " If you only want moral evidence to satisfy your 
 own mind, your end is gained. There is, morally, 
 no doubt that Turlington and the sea captain who 
 cast the foreign sailor overboard to drown, are one 
 and the same man. Legally, the matter is beset by 
 difficulties; Turlington having destroyed all prov- 
 
THE EVENING PARTY. '47 
 
 able connection between bis present self and bis past 
 life. Tbere is only one cbance for us. A sailor on 
 board tbe sbip, wbo was is bis master's secrets, is 
 supposed to be still living, under, his master's protec- 
 tion. All tbe black deeds of Turlington's early life 
 are known to this man. He can prove the facts, if 
 we can find him, and make it worth bis while to 
 speak. Under what alias he is hidden we do not 
 know. His own name is Thomas Wildfaiig. If we 
 are to make the attempt to find him, not a moment 
 is to be lost. The expenses may be serious. Let me 
 know whether we are to go on, or whether enough 
 has been done to attain the end you have in view." 
 
 Enough had been done— not only to satisfy 
 Launce, but to produce the right -effect on Sir 
 Joseph's mind if Sir- Joseph proved obdurate when 
 tbe secret of the marriage was revealed. Launce 
 wrote a line directing the stoppage of the proceed- 
 ings at the point which they had now reached. 
 "Here is a reason for her not marrying Turlington," 
 he said to himself, as he placed the papers under 
 lock and key. " And if she doesn't marry Turling- 
 ton," he added, with $ lover's logic, ** why shouldn't 
 'she marry me ? " 
 
88 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 EIGHTH SCENE. 
 
 THE LIBBABY. 
 
 The next day Sir Joseph Graybrooke ; Sit 
 Joseph's lawyer, Mr. Dicas, and Richard Turlington, 
 were assembled in the library at Muswell Hill, to 
 discuss the question of Natalie's marriage settle- 
 ment. 
 
 After the usual preliminary phrases had been ex- 
 changed, Sir Joseph showed some hesitation an 
 openly approaching the question which the little 
 party of three had met to debate. He avoided his 
 lawyer's eye; and he looked at Turlington rather 
 uneasily. \ 
 
 " Richard," he began at last, " when I spoke to 
 you about your marriage on board the yacht, I said 
 I would give my daughter — " Either his courage 
 or his breath failed him at that point. He was 
 obliged to wait a moment longer before he could go 
 on. , • __ 
 
 " I said I would give my daughter half my fortune 
 on her marriage," he resumed. "Forgive me, Rich- 
 , ard. I can't do it ! " 
 
 Mr. Dicas, waiting for his instructions, laid down 
 his pen, and looked at Sir Joseph's son-in-law elect. 
 What would Mr, Turlington say ? 
 
THE LIBRAE*. 89 
 
 He said nothing. Sitting opposite the window, he 
 rose when Sir Joseph spoke, and placed, himself at 
 the other side of the table, with his back to the 
 light. 
 
 " My eyes are weak this morning,'i he said, in an 
 unnaturally low tone of voice. " The light hurts 
 them." 
 
 He could, find no more plausible excuse thaii that 
 for concealing his face in shadow from the scrutiny 
 of the two men on either side of him. The con- 
 tinuous moral irritation of his unhappy courtship 
 — a courtship which had never advanced beyond the 
 frigid familiarity of kissing Natalie's hand in the 
 presence of others — had physically deteriorated him. 
 Even Ms hardy nerves began to. feel the long strain 
 of suspicion that had been laid unremittingly on 
 them for weeks past. His power of self-control — he 
 knew it himself — was not to be relied on. He could 
 hide his face ; he could no longer command it. 
 
 " Did you hear what I said, Richard ? " " 
 
 "I heard. Goon." 
 
 Sir Joseph proceeded, gathering^ confidence as he 
 advanced. 
 
 " Half my fortune ! " he repeated. " It's parting 
 with half my life; it's saying good-bye forever to 
 my dearest friend! My money has been such a 
 comfort to me, Richard ; such a pleasant occupation 
 for my mind. I know no reading so interesting and 
 so instructive as the reading of one's banker's book. 
 To watch the outgoings on one side," said Sir 
 
90 1 MISS OE MRS,? 
 
 Joseph, with a gentle and pathetic solemnity, " and 
 the incoming on the other— the sad lessening of the 
 balance at one time, and the cheering and delightful 
 growth of it at another — what absorbing reading ! 
 The best novel that ever was written isn't to be 
 mentioned in a breath with it. I cannot, Richard, I 
 really can not, see my nice round balance shrink up 
 to half the figure that I have been used to for a life- 
 time, It may be weak of me," proceeded Sir Joseph, 
 evidently feeling that it was not weak of him at all, 
 " but we all have our tender place, and my banker's 
 book is mine. Besides, it isn't as if you wanted it. 
 If you wanted it, of course — But you don't want it. 
 You are a rich man; you are marrying my dear 
 Natalie for love, not for money. You and she and 
 my grandchildren will have it all at my death. It 
 can. make no difference to you to wait a few years 
 till the old man's chair at the fireside is empty. 
 Will you say the fourth part, Richard, instead of 
 the half? Twenty thousand," pleaded Sir Joseph, 
 piteously. " I can bear twenty thousand off. For 
 God's sake don't ask me for more ! " 
 
 The lips of the lawyer twisted themselves sourly 
 into an ironical smile. He was quite as fond of his 
 money as Sir Joseph. He ought to have felt for his 
 client ; but rich men have no sympathy with one an- 
 other. Mr. Dicas openly despised Sir Joseph. 
 
 There was a - pause. The robin-redbreasts in the 
 shrubbery outside must have had prodigious bal- 
 ances at their bankers ; they hopped up on the win- 
 
TffE LIBRARY. 91 
 
 dow-sill so fearlessly ; they looked in with so little 
 respect at the. two rich men. 
 
 " Don't keep me in suspense, Richard," proceeded 
 Sir Joseph. "Speak out. Is it yes or no ? " 
 
 Turlington struck his hand excitedly on the table, 
 and burst out on a sudden with the answer which 
 had been so strangely delayed. 
 
 " Twenty thousand with all my heart ! " he said 
 " On this condition, Graybrooke, that every farthing 
 of it i8 settled on Natalie, and on her children after 
 her. Not a halfpenny to me ! " he cried magnani- 
 mously, in his brassiest tones-. " Not a halfpenny to 
 me!" 
 
 Let no man say the rich are heartless.. Sir Joseph 
 seized his son-in-law's hand in silence, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Mr. Dicas, habitually a silent man, uttered the 
 •first two words that had escaped. him since the busi- 
 ness began. " Highly creditable," he said, and took 
 a note of his instructions on the spot. 
 
 From that point the business of the settlement 
 flowed smoothly on to its destined end. Sir Joseph 
 explained his views at the fullest length, and the 
 lawyer's pen kept pace with him. Turlington, re- 
 maining in his place at the table, restricted himsejf 
 to a purely passive part in the proceedings. He an- 
 swered "briefly, when it was absolutely necessary to 
 speak, and he agreed with the two elders in every* 
 thing. A man has" no attention to place at the dis* 
 posal of other people when he 'stands at a crisis in 
 
92 MISS OE MRS.? 
 
 his life. Turlington stood at that crisis at the trying 
 moment when Sir Joseph's unexpected proposal 
 pressed instantly for a reply. Two merciless alter- 
 natives confronted him. Either he must repay the 
 borrowed forty thousand pounds on the day when 
 repayment was due — or he must ask Bulbit Brothers 
 to grant him an extension of time, and so inevitably 
 provoke an examination into the fraudulent security 
 deposited with the firm, which could end in but one 
 way. His last, literally his last chance, after Sir 
 Joseph had diminished the promised dowry by one- 
 half, was to adopt the high-minded tone which be- 
 came his position, and to conceal the truth, until he 
 could reveal it to his father-in-law in the privi- 
 leged character of Natalie's husband. " I owe forty 
 thousand pounds, sir, in a fortnight's time, and I 
 have not got a farthing of my own. Pay for me, or 
 you will see your son-in-law's name in the Bank- 
 rupt's List." For his daughter's sake — who could 
 doubt it? — Sir Joseph would produce the money. 
 The one thing needful was to be married in time. 
 If either by accident, or treachery, Sir Joseph was 
 led into deferring the appointed day, by so much as 
 a fortnight only, the fatal "call" would come, and 
 the firm of Pizzituti, Turlington, and Branca would 
 appear in the Gazette. 
 
 So he reasoned,, standing on the brink of the ter- 
 rible discovery which was soon to reveal to him that 
 Natalie was the wife of another man. 
 
 "Richard!" 
 
THE LIBRARY 93 
 
 " Mr. Turlington ! " 
 
 He started, and roused his attention to present 
 things. Sir Joseph on one side, and the lawyer on 
 the other, were both appealing to him, and both re* 
 garding him with looks of amazement. 
 
 " Have you done with the settlement ? " he asked. 
 
 " My dear Richard, we have done with it long 
 since," replied Sir Joseph. " Have you really not 
 heard what I have been saying for the last quarter 
 of an hour to Mr. Dicas here ? What can you. have 
 been thinking of ? " 
 
 Turlington did not attempt to answer the ques- 
 tion. "Am I interested," he asked, " in what you 
 have been saying to Mr. Dicas ? " 
 
 "You shall judge for yourself," answered Sir 
 Joseph, mysteriously ; " I have been giving Mrr 
 Dicas his instructions for making my will. I wish 
 the will and the marriage settlement to be executed 
 at the same time. Read the instructions, Mr. 
 Dicas." 
 
 Sir Joseph's contemplated will proved to have two 
 merits — it was simple, and it was short. Excepting 
 one or two trifling legacies to distant relatives, he 
 bad no one to think of (Miss Lavinia being already 
 provided for) but his daughter, and the children who 
 might be born of her marriage. In its various pro- 
 visions, made with these two main objects in view, 
 the will followed the precedents established in such 
 cases. It differed in no important respect from the 
 tens of thousands of other wills made under similar 
 
94 MISS OB MRS. ? 
 
 circumstances. Sir Joseph's motive in claiming es- 
 pecial attention for it still remained unexplained, 
 when Mr. Dicas reached the. clause devoted to the 
 appointment of executors and trustees; and an- 
 nounced that this portion of the document was left 
 in blank. 
 
 " Sir Joseph Graybrooke, are you prepared to 
 name the persons whom you appoint?" asked the 
 lawyer. 
 
 Sir Joseph rose, apparently for the purpose of giv- 
 ing special importance to the terms In which he an- 
 swered his lawyer's question. 
 
 " I appoint," he said, " as sole executor and trustee 
 — Richard Turlington." 
 
 It was no eaVy matter to astonish Mr. Dicas. - Sir 
 Joseph's reply absolutely confounded him. He 
 looked across the table at his client, and delivered 
 •himself on this special occasion of as many as three 
 words. 
 
 " Are you mad ? " he asked. 
 
 Sir Joseph's healthy complexion slightly reddened. 
 "Inever was in more complete possession of myself, 
 Mr. Dicas, than at this moment." 
 
 Mr. Dicas was not to be silenced in that way. 
 
 " Are you aware of what' you do," persisted the 
 lawyer, " if you appoint Mr. Turlington as sole ex- 
 ecutor and trustee? You put it in the power of 
 your daughter's husband, sir, to make away with 
 every farthing of your money after your death." 
 
 Turlington had hitherto listened with an appear- 
 
THE LIBEAET. 95 
 
 ance of interest in the proceedings, which he as- 
 sumed as an act of politeness. To his view, the 
 future was limited to the date at which Bulpit Broth- 
 ers had a right to claim the repayment" of their loan. 
 The will was a matter of no earthly importance to 
 him, by comparison with the infinitely superior in- 
 terest of the marriage. It was only when the law- 
 yer's brutally plain language forced his attention to 
 it, that the question of his pecuniary interest in his 
 father-in-law's death assumed its 'fit position in his / 
 mind. 
 
 His color rose ; and he too showed that he was 
 offended by what Mr. Dicas had just said. 
 
 " Not a word, Richard ! Let me speak for you as 
 well as for myself," said Sir Joseph. " For seven 
 years past," he continued* turning to the lawyer, "I 
 have been accustomed to place the most unlimited 
 trust in Richard Turljngtbn. His disinterested ad- 
 vice has enabled me largely to increase my income, 
 without placing a farthing of the principal in jeop- 
 ardy. On more than one occasion, I have entreated 
 him to make use of my money in his business. He 
 has invariably refused to do so. Even his bitterest 
 enemies, sir, have b^een obliged to acknowledge that 
 my interests were safe .when committed to his care, 
 Am I to begin distrusting him, now that I am about 
 to give him my daughter in marriage ? Am I to 
 leave it on record that I doubt him for the first time 
 — when my will is opened after my death ? No ! I 
 can confide the management of the fortune which 
 
96 MISS OE MRS.? 
 
 my child will inherit after me, to no more competent 
 or "more honorable hands than the hands of the man 
 who is to marry her. I maintain my appointment, 
 Mr. Dicas ! I persist in placing the whole responsi- 
 bility under my will in my son-in-law's care." 
 
 Turlington attempted to speak. The lawyer at- 
 tempted to speak. Sir Joseph — with a certain simple 
 dignity which had its effect on both of them— de- 
 clined to hear a word on either side. " No, Richard ! 
 as long as I am alive this is my business, not yours. 
 No, Mr. Dicas ! I understand that it is your busP 
 ness to protest professionally. Yon have protested. 
 Fill in the blank space as I have told you. Or leave 
 the instructions on the table, and I will send for the 
 nearest solicitor to complete them in your place." 
 
 Those words put the lawyer's position plainly be- 
 fore him. He had no choice but to do as he was 
 bid, or to lose a good client. H& did as he was bid, 
 and grimly left the room. 
 
 Sir Joseph, with old-fashioned politeness, followed 
 him as far as the hall. Returning to the library to 
 6ay a few friendly words, before finally dismissing 
 the subject of the will, he found himself seized by 
 the arm, and dragged without ceremony in Turling- 
 ton's powerful grasp to the window. 
 
 "Richard!" he exclaimed, "what does this 
 mean?" 
 
 "Look!" cried the other, pointing through the 
 window to a grassy walk in the grounds, bounded 
 on either side by shrubberies, and situated at a little 
 
THE LIBRARY. 97 
 
 distance from the house. "Who is that man?— 
 quick ! before we lose sight of him — the man cross- 
 ing there-- from one shrubbery to the other" Sir 
 Joseph failed to recognize the figure before it disap- 
 peared. Turlington whispered fiercely, close to his 
 ear — " Launcelot Linzie I " 
 
 In perfect good faith Sir Joseph* declared that 
 the man could not possibly have been Launce. 
 Turlington's frenzy of jealous suspicion was not 
 to be so easily calmed. He asked significantly for 
 Natalie. She was reported to be walking in the 
 grounds. " I knew it ! " he said, with an oajh — 
 and hurried out instantly to discover the truth for 
 himself. 
 
 Some little time elapsed before he came back to 
 the house. He had discovered Natalie : — alone. Not 
 a sign of Launce had rewarded his search. For the 
 hundredth time he had offended Natalie. For the 
 hundredth time he was compelled to appeal to the 
 indulgence of her father and her aunt. " It won't 
 happen again," he said, sullenly penitent. "You 
 will find me quite another man when I have got you 
 all at my house in the country. Mind I " he burst 
 iput, with a furtive look which expressed his invet- 
 erate distrust of Natalie and of every one about her,: 
 " Mind ! it's settled that you all come to me in 
 Somersetshire, on Monday next." Sir Joseph an- 
 swered rather drily that it was settled. Turlington 
 turned to leave the room — and suddenly came back. 
 " It's understood," he went on, addressing Miss 
 7 
 
98 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 Lavinia, " that the seventli of next month-is the date 
 fixed for the marriage. Not a day later I" Misa 
 Lavinia replied, rather drily on her side, " Of course, 
 Richard;, not a day later." He muttered, "All 
 right" — and hurriedly left them. 
 
 Half an hour afterward Natalie came in looking a 
 little confused. 
 
 "Has he gone?" she asked, whispering to her 
 aunt. 
 
 Relieved on this point, she made straight for the 
 library — a room which she rarely entered, at that, or 
 any other period of the day. Miss Lavinia followed 
 her, curious to know what it meant. Natalie hur- 
 ried to the window, and waved her handkerchief — 
 evidently making a signal to some one outside. Miss 
 Lavinia instantly joined her, and took her sharply 
 by the hand. 
 
 "Is it possible, Natalie?" she asked. "Has 
 Launcelot Linzie really been here, unknown to your 
 father or to me ? " 
 
 "Where is the harm if he has?" answered Na- 
 talie, with a sudden outbreak of temper. "Am I 
 never to see my cousin- again, because Mr. Turling- 
 ton happens to be- jealous of him ? " 
 
 She suddenly turned away her head. The rich 
 color flowed over her face and neck. Miss Lavinia, 
 proceeding sternly with the administration of the 
 necessary reproof, was silenced midway by a new 
 change in her niece's variable temper. Natalie burst 
 into tears. Satisfied with this appearance of sincere 
 
THE LIBRARY. 99 
 
 contrition, the old lady consented to overlook what 
 had happened ; and, for this occasion only, to keep 
 her niece's secret. They would all be in Somerset- 
 shire, she remarked, before any more breaches of 
 discipline could be committed. Richard had for- 
 tunately made no discoveries ; and the matter might 
 safely be trusted, all things considered to rest where 
 it was. 
 
 Miss Lavinia might possibly have taken a less 
 hopeful view of the circumstances, if she had known 
 that one of the man-servants at Muswell Hill was in 
 Richard Turlington's day — and that this servant' had 
 seen, Launce leave the grounds by the back garden 
 gate. 
 
100 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 NINTH SCENE. 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 "Amelia!" 
 
 " Say something." 
 
 " Ask him to sit down." 
 
 Thus addressing one another in whispers, th» 
 three step-daughters of Lady Win wood stood bewil 
 dered in their own drawing-room, helplessly confront- 
 ing an object which appeared before them on the 
 threshold of the door. 
 
 The date was the 23d of December. The time 
 was between two and three in the afternoon. The 
 occasion was the return of the three sisters from the 
 Committee meeting of the Sacred Concerts Society. 
 And the object was Richard Turlington. 
 
 He stood hat in hand at the door, amazed by his 
 reception. "I have come up this morning from 
 Somersetshire," he said. " Haven't you heard? A 
 matter of business at the office has forced me to leave 
 my guests at my house in the country. I return to 
 see them to-morrow. When I say my guests, I mean 
 the Graybrookes. " Don't you know they are staying 
 with me? Sir Joseph and Miss Lavinia and Nar 
 talie — " On the utterance of Natalie's name, tha 
 sisters roused themselves. They turned about 
 
THE DEAWING-BOOM. 101 
 
 and jregarded each with looks of dismay. Turling- 
 ton's patience began to fail him. " Will you he so 
 good as to tell me what all this means? " he said, a 
 little sharply, i " Miss Lavinia asked me to call here 
 when she heard I was coming to town. I was to 
 take charge of a .pattern of a dress, which she said 
 you would give me. You ought to have received a. 
 telegram explaining it all, hours since. Has thai 
 message not reached you ? " 
 
 The leading, spirit of the three sisters was Miss 
 Amelia. She was the first who summoned presence 
 of mind enough to give a plain answer to Turling- 
 ton's plain question. , \ 
 
 " We received the telegram this morning," she 
 said, "Something has happened since which has 
 shocked and surprised us. We beg your pardon." 
 She turned to one of her sisters, "Sophia, the 
 pattern is ready in the drawer of that table behind 
 you Give it to Mr. Turlington." 
 
 Sophia produced the packet. Before she handed 
 it to the visitor, she looked at her sister. *' Ought 
 we to let Mr. Turlington go," she asked, " as if 
 nothing had happened ? " 
 
 Amelia considered silently within herself. Doro- 
 thea, the third sister (who had not spoken yet), 
 came forward with a suggestion. She proposed, be- 
 fore proceeding further, to inquire whether Lady 
 Winwood was in 'the house. The idea was instantly 
 adopted. Sophia rang the bell. Amelia put the 
 questions when the servant appeared. 
 
102 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 Lady Winwood had left the house for a drive 
 immediately after luncheon. Lord Winwood — 
 inquired for next^-had accompained her ladyship. 
 No message had been left indicating the hour of 
 their return. 
 
 The sisters looked at Turlington, uncertain what 
 to say or do next. Miss Amelia addressed him as 
 soon as the servant had left the\room. 
 
 " Is it possible for you to remain here until either 
 my father or Lady Winwood return-? " she asked. 
 
 " It is quite impossible. Minutes are of import- 
 ance to me to-day." 
 
 "Will you give us one of your minutes? We 
 want to consider something which we may have to 
 say to you before you go." 
 
 Turlington, wondering, took a chair. Miss Amelia 
 put the case before her sisters from the sternly con- 
 scientious point of view, at the opposite end of the 
 room. 
 
 " We have not found out this abominable de- 
 ception by any underhand means," she said. " The" 
 discovery has been forced upon usy and we stand 
 pledged to nobody to keep the secret. Knowingas 
 we do how cruelly this gentleman has been used, it 
 seems to me that we are bound in honor to open his 
 eyes to the truth. If we remain silent we make our- 
 selves Lady Winwood's accomplices. I, for one — I 
 don't care what may come of it — refuse to do that." 
 
 Her sisters agreed with her. The /first chance 
 their clever stepmother had given them of asserting 
 
THE DBA WING-ROOM. 103 
 
 their importance against hers was now in their hands. 
 Their jealouB hatred of Lady Win wood assumed the 
 mask of )iuty— duty toward an outraged and de- 
 ceived fellow-creature. Could any earthly motive 
 be purer than that ? " Tell him, Amelia ! " cried 
 the two young ladies, with the headlong reckless- 
 ness of the sex which only stops to think when the 
 time for reflection has gone by. 
 
 A vague sense of something wrong began to stir 
 uneasily in Turlington's mind. 
 
 "Don't let me hurry you," he said, "but if you 
 really have anything to tell me " 
 
 Miss Amelia summoned her courage, and began. 
 
 " We have something very dreadful to tell you," 
 she. said, interrupting him. " You have been pre- 
 sented in this house, Mr. Turlington, as a gentle- 
 man engaged to marry Lady Winwood's cousin, 
 Miss Natalie Graybrooke." She paused there — at 
 the outset of the disclosure. A sudden change of 
 expression passed over Turlington's face, which 
 daunted her Tor the moment. " We have hitherto 
 understood," " she went on, "that you were to be 
 married to that young lady early next month." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 He could say that one word. Looking at their 
 pale faces, and their eager eyes, he could say no 
 more. 
 
 " Take care ! " whispered Dorothea, in her sister's 
 ear. " Look at him, Amelia ! Not too soon." 
 „ Amelia went on carefully. 
 
104 MISS OE MES.? 
 
 " We have just returned from a musical meeting," 
 she said. " One of the ladies there was an acquaint- 
 ance, a former school-fellow of ours. She is the 
 wife of the rector of St. Columb Major — a large 
 church, far from this — at the East-end of London." 
 
 "I know nothing about the woman or the 
 church," interposed Turlington, sternly. 
 
 " I must beg you to wait a little. I can't tell you 
 what I want to tell you unless I refer to the rector's 
 wife. She knows Lady Winwood by name. And 
 she heard of Lady Winwood recently under very 
 strange circumstances — circumstances connected 
 with a signature in one of the books of the church." 
 
 Turlington lost his self-control. " You have got 
 something against my Natalie," he burst out ; " I 
 know it by your whispering, I see it in your looks I 
 Say it at once in plain words." 
 
 There was no trifling with him now. In plain 
 words Amelia said it. 
 
 ****** 
 
 There was silence in the room. They could hear 
 the sound of passing footsteps in the street. He 
 stood perfectly still on the spot. where' they had 
 struck him dumb by the disclosure, supporting him- 
 self with his right hand laid on the head of a sofa 
 ^near him. The sisters drew back horror-struck into 
 the farthest corner of the room. His face turned 
 them cold* Through the mute misery which it had 
 expressed at first, there appeared, slowly forcing its 
 way to view, a look of deadly vengeance which froz© 
 
THE DRAWING-ROOM. 105 
 
 them to the soul. They whispered feverishly one to 
 the other, without knowing what they were talk- 
 ing of, without hearing their own voices. One 
 of them said, "King the bell ! " Another said, 
 " Offer him something, he will faint." The third 
 shuddered, and repeated, over and over again, 
 " Why did we do it ? Why did we do it ? " 
 
 He silenced them on the instant by speaking on 
 his side. He came on slowly, by a step at a time, 
 with the big drops of agony falling slowly over his 
 rugged face. He said, in a hoarse whisper, " Write 
 me down the name of the church — there." He 
 held out his open pocket-book to Amelia, while he 
 spoke. She steadied herself, and wrote the address. 
 She tried to say a word to soften him. The word 
 died on her lips. There was a light in his eyes as 
 they looked at her, which transfigured: his face to 
 something super-human and devilish. She turned 
 away from him, shuddering. 
 
 He put the book back in his pocket, and passed 
 his handkerchief over his face. After a moment 
 of indecision, he suddenly and swiftly stole out of 
 the room, as if he was afraid of their calling some- 
 body in, and stopping him. At the door he turned 
 round for a moment, and said, "You will hear how. 
 this ends. I wish you good morning." 
 
 The door closed on him. Left by themselves, 
 they began to realize it. They thought of the con- 
 sequences when his back was turned and it was too 
 late. 
 
106 MISS OE MRS. 
 
 The Graybrookes ! Now he knew it, what would 
 become of the Graybrookes? What would he do 
 when he got back? Even at ordinary times — when 
 he was on his best behavior — he was a rough man. 
 What would happen Z Oh good God ! what would 
 happen when he and Natalie next stood face to face ? 
 It was a lonely house — Natalie had told them about 
 it — no neighbors near ; nobody by to interfere but 
 the weak old father and the maiden aunt. Some- 
 thing ought to be done. Some steps ought to be taken 
 to warn them. Advice — who could give advice ? 
 Who was the first person who ought tdl)e told of 
 what had happened ? Lady Win wood? No, even 
 at that crisis the sisters still shrank from their step- 
 mother — still hated her with the old hatred ! Not a 
 word to her ! They owed no duty to. her ! Who 
 else could they appeal to ? To their father ? Yes ! 
 There was the person to advise them. In the mean- 
 while, silence toward their stepmother — silence to- 
 ward every one till their father came back ! * 
 
 They waited and waited. One after another the 
 precious hours, pregnant with the issues of life and 
 death, followed each other on the dial. Lady Win- 
 wood returned alone. She had left her husband at 
 the House of Lords, Dinner-iime came, and 
 brought with it a note from his lordship. There 
 was a debate at the House. Lady Winwobd and his 
 daughters were not to wait dinner for him. 
 
GEEEN ANCHOR LANE. 107 
 
 TENTH SCENE. 
 
 GEEEN ANCHOR LANE. 
 
 . An hour later than the time at which he- had been 
 expected, Richard Turlington appeared at his office 
 in the city. 
 
 He met beforehand all the inquiries which the 
 marked changed in him must otherwise have pro- 
 voked, by announcing that he was ill. Before he pro- 
 ceeded to business, he asked if anybody was waiting 
 to see him. One of the servants from Muswell Hill 
 was waiting with another parcel for Miss Lavinia, 
 ordered by telegram from the country that morning. 
 Turlington (after ascertaining the servant's name) 
 received the "man in his private room. He there 
 heard, for the first time, that Launcelot Linzie had 
 been lurking in the grounds (exactly as he had sup- 
 posed) on the day when the lawyer took his instruc- 
 tions for the settlement and the will. 
 
 In two hours more Turlington's work was com- 
 pleted. On leaving the office — as soon as he was 
 out of sight of the door— he turned eastward, instead 
 of taking the way that led to his own house in town. 
 Pursuing his course, he entered the labyrinth of 
 streets which led, in that quarter of East London,' 
 to the unsavory neighborhood of the river side. 
 
108 MISS OK MRS.? 
 
 By this time his mind was made up. The forecast 
 shadow of meditated crime traveled before him 
 already, as he threaded his way among his fellow- 
 men. '' 
 
 He had been to the vestry of St. Colomb Major, 
 and had satisfied himself that he was misled by no 
 false report. There was the entry in the marriage 
 register. The one unexplained mystery was the 
 mystery of Launce's conduct in permitting his wife to 
 return to her father's house. Utterly unable to ac- 
 count for this proceeding, Turlington could only ac- 
 cept facts as they were, and determine to make the 
 most of his time, while the woman who had deceived 
 him was still Under his roof. A hideous expression 
 crossed his face as he realized the idea that he had 
 got her (unprotected by her husband) in his house. 
 " When Launcelot Linzie does come to claim her," 
 he said to himself, " he shall find I have been even 
 with him." He looked at his watch. Was it possi- 
 ble to save the last train and get back that night ? 
 No — the last train had gone. Would she take ad- 
 vantage of his absence to escape ? He had little 
 fear of that. She would never have allowed her 
 aunt to send him to Lord Winwood's house, if she 
 had felt the slightest suspicion of his discovering the 
 truth in that' quarter. Returning by the first train 
 the next morning, he might feel sure of getting back 
 in time. Meanwhile, he had the hours of the night 
 before him. He could give his mind to the serious 
 question that must be settled before he left London 
 
GREEN ANCHOR LANE. 109 
 
 —the question of repaying the forty thousand 
 pounds. There was but one way of getting the 
 money now. Sir Joseph had executed his Will ; Sir 
 Joseph's death would leave his sole executor and 
 trustee (the lawyer had said it!) master of his for- 
 tune. Turlington determined to be master of it in 
 four-and-twenty hours — striking the blow, without 
 risk to himself, by mean of another hand. In the 
 face of the probabilities, in the face of the facts, he 
 had now firmly persuaded himself that Sir Joseph 
 was privy to the • fraud that had been practiced on 
 him. The marriage settlement, the Will, the pres- 
 ence of the family at his country house — all -these he 
 believed to be so many stratagems invented to keep 
 him deceived Until the last moment. The truth was 
 In those words which he had overheard between Sir 
 Joseph and Launce — and in Launce's presence 
 ^privately encouraged, no doubt) at Muswell HiD. 
 •'Her father shall pay me for it doubly: with his 
 purse and with his life." With that thought in his 
 heart Richard Turlington wound his way through 
 the streets by the river side, and stopped at a blind 
 alley called Green' Anchor Lane, infamous to this 
 day as the chosen resort of the most abandoned 
 wretches that London can produce. *•- 
 
 The policeman at the corner cautioned him as he 
 turned into the alley. " They won't hurt me ! " he 
 answered, and walked on to a public-house at the 
 bottom of the lane. 
 
 The landlord at the door silently recognized him, 
 
110 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 and let the way in. They crossed a room filled with 
 sailors of all nations drinking ; ascended a staircase 
 at the back of the house, and stopped at the door of 
 a room on the second floor. There the landlord 
 spoke for the first time. " He has outrun his allow- 
 ance, sir, as usual. You will find him with hardly a 
 rag on his back. I doubt if he will last much longer. 
 He had another fit of the horrors last night, Hill the 
 doctor thinks badly of him." With that introduc- 
 tion he opened the door, and Turlington entered the 
 room. 
 
 On the miserable bed lay a grey-headed old man, 
 of gigantic stature, with nothing on him but a rag- 
 ged shirt and a pair of patched filthy trousers. At 
 the side of the bed, with a bottle of gin on the 
 ricketty table between them, sat two hideous, leer- 
 ing, painted monsters, wearing the dress of women. 
 The smell of opium was in the room, as well as the 
 smell of spirits. 
 
 ■ At Turlington's appearance, the old man rose on 
 the bed and welcomed him with greedy eyes and 
 outstretched hands. 
 
 " Money, master ! " he called out hoarsely. " A 
 crown piece in advance, for the sake of old times ! " 
 
 Turlington turned tqjhe women without answer- 
 ing, purse in hand. 
 
 " His clothes are at the pawnbroker's, of course. 
 How much ? " 
 
 " Thirty shillings." 
 
 " Bring them here, and be quick about it. You 
 
GREEN ANCHOR LANE. Ill 
 
 will find it worth your while when you come back." 
 
 The women took the pawnbroker's tickets from 
 the pockets of the man's trousers and hurried out. 
 
 Turlington closed the door, and seated himself by 
 the bedside. He laid his hand familiarly on the 
 giant's mighty shoulder ; looked him full in the face, 
 and said in a whisper : — 
 
 " Thomas Wildfang ! " 
 
 The man started, and drew his huge hairy hand 
 across his eyes,~as if in doubt whether he was wak- 
 ing or sleeping. " It's better than ten years, master, 
 since you called me by my name. If I am Thomas 
 Wildfang, what are You ? " 
 . " Your captain, once more." 
 
 Thomas Wildfang sat up on the side of the bed, 
 and spoke his next words cautiously, in Turlington's 
 ear. 
 
 "Another man in the way?" 
 
 "Yes." * X 
 
 The giant shook his bald bestial head dolefully. 
 "Too late. I'm past the job. Look here." 
 
 He held up his hand, and showed it trembling in- 
 cessantly. " I'm an old man," he said, and let his 
 hand drop heavily again on the bed. beside him. 
 
 Turlington looked at the door, and whispered 
 back — 
 
 " The man is as old as you are. And the money 
 is worth having." 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 "A hundred pounds.** 
 
112 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 The eyes of Thomas Wildfang fastened greedily 
 on Turlington's face. "Let's hear," he said. "Softly, 
 captain. Let's hear." 
 
 * - * * * * * 
 
 When the young women came back with the 
 clothes, Turlington had left the room. Their prom< 
 ised reward lay waiting for them on the table, and 
 Thomas Wildfang was eager to dress himself and be 
 gone. They could get but one answer from him to 
 every question they put. He had business in hand, 
 which was not to be delayed. They would see him 
 again in a day or two, with money in his purse. 
 With that assurance he took his cudgel from the 
 corner of the room, and stalked out swiftly by th» 
 back door of the house into the night. 
 
OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. 113 
 
 ELEVENTH SCENE. 
 
 OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. 
 
 The evening was chilly, but not cold for the time 
 of year,_ There was no moon. The stars were out, 
 and the wind was quiet. Upon the whole, the in- 
 habitants of the little Somersetshire village of Bax- 
 dale agreed that it was as fine a Christmas Eve as 
 they could remember for some years past. 
 
 Toward eight in the evening the one small street 
 of the village was empty, except at that part of it 
 which was occupied by the public-house. For the 
 most part, people gathered around their fire-sides, 
 with an eye to their suppers, and watched the proc- 
 ess of cooking comfortably indoors. The old bare 
 gray church, situated at some little distance from the 
 village, looked a lonelier object than usual in the 
 dim starlight. The vicarage, nestlipg close under 
 the shadow of the church tower, threw no illumina- 
 tion of firelight or candle-light on the dreary scene. 
 The clergyman's* shutters fitted well and the clergy- 
 man's curtains were closely drawn. The one ray of 
 lighlr that cheered the wintry darkness streamed 
 from the unguarded window of a lonely house, sepa- 
 rated from the vicarage by the whole length of the 
 churchyard. A man stood at the window, holding 
 8 
 
114 MISS OE MES. ? 
 
 back the shutter, and looking out attentively over 
 the dim void of the burial ground. The man was 
 Richard Turlington. The room in which he was 
 watching was a room iu his own house. 
 
 A momentary spark of light flashed up, as from 
 a kindled match in the burial ground. Turlington 
 instantly left the empty room in which he had been 
 watching. Passing down the back garden of the 
 house, and crossing a narrow lane at the bottom of 
 it, he opened a gate in a low stone wall beyond, and 
 entered the churchyard. The shadowy figure of a 
 man of gre,at statue, lurking among the graves, ad- 
 vanced to meet himv Midway in the dark and 
 lonely place, the two stopped and consulted together 
 in whispers. Turlington spoke first. 
 
 " Have you taken up your quarters at the public- 
 house in the village ? " 
 
 "Yes, master." 
 , " Did you find your way, while the daylight lasted, 
 to the deserted malthouse behind my orchard 
 wall?" 
 
 " Yes, master." 
 
 "Now listen — we have no time to lose. Hide 
 there, behind that monument. Before nine o'clock 
 to-night you will see me cross the churchyard, as far 
 as this place, with the man you are to wait for. He 
 is going to spend an hour with the' vicar, at the 
 house yonder. I shall stop short here, and say to 
 him, ' You can't miss your way in the dark now — I 
 will go back.' When I am far enough away from 
 
OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. 115 
 
 him, I shall blow a call on my whistle. The mo- 
 ment you hear the call follow the man, and drop him 
 before he gets out of the churchyard. Have you got 
 your cudgel ? " 
 
 Thomas Wildfang held up his cudgel. Turling- 
 ton took him by the arm, and felt it suspiciously. 
 
 " You have had an attack of the horrors, already," 
 he said. "What does this trembling mean?" 
 
 He took a spirit-flask from his pocket as he, spoke. 
 Thomas Wildfang snatched it out of his hand, and 
 emptied it at a draught. " All right now, master," 
 he said. -Turlington felt his arm once more. It was 
 steadier already. Wildfang brandished his cudgel, 
 and struck a heavy blow with it on one of the turf. 
 mounds near them. " Will that drop him, captain ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Turlington' went on with his instructions. 
 
 "Rob him when you have dropped him. Take 
 his money and his jewelry. I want to have the 
 killing of him attributed to robbery as the motive. 
 Make sure before you leave him that he is dead. 
 Then go to the malthouse. There is no fear of you 
 being seen ; all the people will be indoors, keeping 
 Christmas Eve. You will find a change of clothes 
 hidden in the malthouse, and an old cauldron full of 
 quicklime. Destroy the clothes you have got on, 
 and dress yourself in the other clothes that you find. 
 Follow the cross-road, and when it brings you into- 
 the high road, turn to the left; a four-mile walk will 
 take you to the town of Harminster. Sleep there 
 
116 MISS OR MRS."? 
 
 to-night, and travel to London by. the train in the 
 morning. The next day go to my office, see the 
 head clerk, and say, ' I have come to sign my re- 
 ceipt.' Sign it in your own name! and you will re- 
 ceive your hundred pounds. There are your in- 
 structions. Do you understand them ? " 
 
 Wildfang nodded his head in silent token that he 
 understood, and disappeared again among the 
 graves. Turlington went back to the house. _ 
 
 He had advanced mid-way across the garden, when 
 he was startledTay the sound of footsteps in the lane 
 — at that part of it which skirted one of the 
 corners of the house. Hastening forward, he placed 
 himself behind a projection in the stone wall, so as 
 to see the person pass across the stream of light from 
 the uncovered window of the room that he had left. 
 The stranger was walking rapidly. All Turlington 
 could see, as he crossed the field of light, was that 
 his hat was pulled over his eyes, and that he had a 
 thick beard and moustachio. Describing the man 
 to the servant on entering the house, he was in- 
 formed that a stranger with a large beard had been 
 seen about the neighborhood for some days past. 
 The account he had given of himself stated that he 
 was a surveyor, engaged in taking measurements 
 for a new map of that part of thg country, shortly 
 to be published. 
 
 The guilty mind of Turlington was far from feel- 
 ing satisfied with the meagre, discription of the 
 stranger thus rendered. He could not be engaged 
 
OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. 117 
 
 in surveying work in the dark. What could he 
 want in the desolate neighborhood of the h6use and 
 churchyard at that time of nighti ? 
 
 The man wanted— what the man found a little 
 lower down the lane, hidden in a dismantled part of 
 the churchyard wall — a letter from a young lady. 
 Read by the light of the pockgfc lantern which he 
 carried with him,, the letter first congratulated this 
 person on the complete success of his disguise— -and 
 then promised that the writer would be ready at her 
 bedroom windowfor flight the next morning, before 
 the house was astir. The signature was " Natalie," 
 and the person addressed was " Dearest ]Launce ; " 
 
 In the meanwhile, Turlington barred the window- 
 shutters of the room, and looked at his watch. It 
 wanted only a quarter to nine o'clock. He took his 
 dog-whistle from the chimney-piece, and turned his 
 steps at once in the direction of the drawing-room, 
 in which his guests were passing the evening. 
 
118 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 TWELFTH SCENE. 
 
 INSIDE THE HOUSE. 
 
 The scene in the drawing-room represented the 
 ideal of domestic comfort. The fire of wood and 
 coal mixed burnt brightly ; the lamps shed a soft 
 glow of light ; the solid shutters and the thick red 
 curtains kept the cold night air on the outer side of 
 two long windows, which opened on the back gar- 
 den. Snug arm-chairs were placed in every part of 
 the room. In one of them Sir Joseph reclined, fast 
 asleep ; in another, Miss Lavinia sat knitting ; a 
 third chair, apart from the rest, near a round table 
 in one corner of the room, was occupied by Natalie. 
 Her head was resting on her hand ; an unread book 
 lay open on her lap. She looked pale and harassed; 
 anxiety and suspense had worn her down to the 
 shadow of her former self. On entering the room, 
 Turlington purposely closed the door with a bang. 
 Natalie started. Miss Lavinia looked up reproach- 
 fully. The objected was achieved — Sir Joseph was 
 roused from his sleep. 
 
 " If you are going to. the vicar's to-night, Gray* 
 brooke," said Turlington, "it's time you were off, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 Sir Joseph . rubbed his eyes, and looked at the 
 
INSIDE THE HOtTSB. Il9 
 
 clock on the mantlepiece. " Yes, yes, Richard," he 
 answered drowsily, " I suppose I must go. Where 
 is my hat ? " 
 
 His sister and his daughter both joined in trying 
 to persuade h|m to send an excuse, instead of grop- 
 ing his way to the vicarage in the dark. Sir Joseph 
 hesitated as usual. He and the vicar had run up a 
 sudden friendship, on strength of their common en- 
 thusiasm for the old-fashioned game of backgammon.. 
 Victorious over his opponent on the previous even- 
 ing at Turlingtqn's house, Sir Joseph had promised 
 to pass that evening at the vicarage, and give the 
 vicar his revenge. Observing his indecision, Tur- 
 lington cunningly irritated him by affecting to be- 
 lieve that he was really unwilling to venture out in 
 the dark. "I'll see you safe across the churchyard," 
 he said ; ," and the vicar's servant will see you safe 
 back." The tone in which he spoke instantly 
 roused Sir Joseph. " I am not in my second child- 
 hood yet, Richard," he replied, testily. " I can find 
 my way by myself." He kissed his daughter on the 
 forehead. "No fear, Natalie. I shall be back in 
 time for the mulled claret. No, Richard, I won't 
 trouble you t He kissed his hand to his sister and 
 went out into the hall for his hat ; Turlington fol- 
 lowing him with a rough apology, and asking as a 
 favor to be permitted to accompany him part of the 
 way only. The ladies, left behind in the drawing- 
 room, heard the apology accepted by kind-hearted 
 Sir Joseph. The two went out together. 
 
120 MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 "Have yon noticed Richard since his return?" 
 asked Miss Lavinia. " I fancy he must have heard 
 bad hews in London. He looks as if he had some- 
 thing on his mind." 
 
 " I haven't remarked it, aunt." 
 
 For the time, no more was said. Miss Lavinia 
 went monotonously on with her knitting. Natalie 
 pursued her own anxious thoughts over the unread 
 pages of the book in her lap. Suddenly, the deep 
 silence out of doors and in was broken by a shrill 
 whistle, sounding from the direction of the church, 
 yard. Natalie started with a faint, cry of alarm. 
 Mis6 Lavinia looked up from her knitting. 
 
 " My dear child ! your nerves must be sadly out 
 of order. What is there to be frightened at ? " 
 
 " I'm not very well, aunt. It is so still here at 
 night, the slightest noises startle me." 
 
 There was another interval of silence. It was 
 past nine o'clock when they heard the back door 
 opened and closed again. Turlington came hur- 
 riedly into the drawing-room, as if he had some 
 reason for wishing to rejoin the ladies as soon as 
 possible. To the surprise of both of them, he sat 
 down abruptly in a corner, with his face to the wall, 
 and took up the newspaper, without casting a look 
 at them or uttering a word. 
 
 "Is Joseph safe at the vicarage?" asked Miss 
 Lavinia. 
 
 "All right." He gave the answer in a short, 
 surly tone, still without looking round. 
 
INSIDE THE HOUSE. 121 
 
 Miss Lavinia tried him again. " Did you hear a 
 whistle while you were out? It quite startled Nata- 
 lie in the, stillness of this place." 
 
 He turned half-way round. " My shepherd, I 
 suppose," he said, after a pause, " whistling for his 
 dog." He turned back again, and immersed him- 
 self in his newspaper. 
 
 Miss Lavinia beckoned to her niece, and pointed 
 significantly to Turlington. After one reluctant 
 look at him, Natalie laid her head wearily on her 
 aunt's shoulder. " Sleepy, my dear ? " whispered 
 the old lady. " Uneasy, aunt — I don't know why," 
 Natalie whispered back. "I would give the world 
 to be in London, and to hear the carriages going by, 
 and the people talking in the street." 
 
 Turlington suddenly dropped his newspaper. 
 " What's the secret between you two-? " he called 
 out roughly. " What are you whispering about ? " 
 
 " We wish not to disturb you over jonv reading, 
 that is all," said Miss Lavinia, coldly. " Has any- 
 thing happened to vex you, Richard?" 
 
 " What the devil makes you think that? " 
 
 The old lady was offended, and showed it by say- 
 ing nothing more. Natalie nestled closer to her 
 aunt. One after another the clock ticked q££ ,|he 
 minutes with .painful distinctness in the stillness of 
 the room. Turlington suddenly threw aside the 
 newspaper and left his corner. "Let's be good 
 friends ? " he burst out, with a clumsy assumption 
 of gayety. "This isn't keeping Christmas Eve. 
 
122 . MISS OE MRS.? 
 
 Let's talk and be sociable. Dearest Natalie ! " He 
 tbrew his arms roughly round Natalie, and drew her 
 by main force away from her aunt. She turned 
 deadly pale, and struggled to release herself. "I 
 am suffering— I am ill — let me go." He was deaf 
 to her entreaties. " What ! your husband- that is to 
 be, treated in this way ? Mustn't I have a kiss ? — 
 I will ! " He held her closer with one hand, and, 
 seizing her head with the other, tried to turn her 
 lips to him. She resisted with the'inbred nervous 
 strength which the weakest woman living has in 
 reserve when she is outraged. Half-indignant, half- 
 terrified, at Turlington's roughness, Miss Lavinia 
 rose .to interfere. In a moment more he would haye 
 had two women to overpower instead of one, when 
 a noise outside the window suddenly suspended the 
 ignoble struggle. 
 
 There was a sound of footsteps on the gravel 
 walk which ran between the house-wall and the 
 garden-lawn. It was followed by a tap — a single 
 faint tap, no more — on one of the panes of glass. 
 
 They all three stood still. For a moment more, 
 nothing was ^audible. Then there was a heavy 
 shock, as of something falling outside. Then a 
 groan ; then another interval of silence— a long 
 silence^* interrupted no more. 
 
 Turlington's arm dropped from Natalie. She 
 drew back to her aunt. Looking at him instinct- 
 tively, in the natural expectation that he would take 
 the lead in penetrating the mystery of what had 
 
INSIDE THE HOtrSE. 123 
 
 happened outside the window, the two women were 
 thunderstruck to see that he was, to all appearance, 
 more startled and more helpless than they were 
 themselves. " Richard," said Miss Lavinia, " there 
 is something wrong out there. See what it is." He 
 stood motionless, as if he had not heard her ; his 
 eyes fixed on the window, his face livid with terror. 
 
 The silence outside was broken once more ; this 
 time by a call for help. , ">* * 
 
 A cry of horror burst fronl Natalie. The voice 
 outside — rising wildly, then suddenly dying away 
 again — was not entirely strange to her ears. She 
 tore aside the curtain. With voice and hand, she 
 roused her, aunt to help her. The two lifted the 
 heavy bar from its socket ; they opened the shutters 
 and the window. The cheerful light of the room 
 flowed out over the body of a prostrate man lying 
 on his face. Th,ey turned the man over. Natalie 
 lifted his head. 
 
 Her father ! 
 
 His face was bedabbled with blood. A wound, a 
 frightful wound, was visible on the side of his bare 
 head, high above the ear. Ho looked at her; his 
 eyes recognized her, before he fainted again in her 
 arms. His hands and his clothes were covered with 
 earth stains. He must have traversed some distance : 
 in that .dreadful condition he must have . faltered 
 and fallen more than once before lie reached the 
 house. His sister wiped the blood from his face. 
 His daughter called on him frantically to forgive her 
 
124 MISS OK MRS.? 
 
 before he died — the harmless, gentle, kind-hearted 
 father, who had never said a hard word to her ! The 
 father whom she had deceived ! 
 
 The terrified servants hurried into the room. 
 Their appearance roused their master from the ex- 
 traordinary stupor that had seized him. He was at 
 the window before the footman could get there. 
 The two lifted Sir Joseph into the room, and lajd 
 him on the sofa. Natalie knelt by him, supporting 
 his head. Miss Lavinia staunched the flowing blood 
 with her handkerchief. The woman-servants brought 
 linen and cold water. The man hurried awaysfor 
 the doctor, who lived on the other side of the vil- 
 lage. Left alone again with Turlington, Natalie 
 noticed that his eyes were fixed in immovable scru- 
 tiny on her father's head. He never snid a word. 
 He lo'oked, looked; looked at the wound. 
 
 The doctor arrived. Before either thedaughter or 
 the sister of the injured man could put the question, 
 Turlington put it — " Will he live or die ? " 
 
 The doctor's careful finger probed the wound- 
 
 " Make your minds easy. A little down, or in 
 front, the blow might have been serious. As it is, 
 there is no harm done. Keep him quiet, and he will 
 be all right again in tw6 or three days." 
 
 Hearing those welcome words, Natalie and her 
 aunt sank on their knees in silent gratitude. Afjer 
 dressing the wound, the doctor looked round for the 
 master of the house. Turlington, who had been so 
 breathlessly eager but a few minutes since, seemed 
 
INSIDE THE HOUSE. 125 
 
 to have lost all interest in the case now. He stood 
 apart, at the window, looking out toward the church' 
 yard, thinking. The questions which it was the 
 doctor's duty to ask were answered by the ladies. 
 The servants assisted in examining the injured man's 
 clothes : they discovered that his watch and purse 
 were both missing. When it became necessary to 
 carry him upstairs, it was the footman who assisted 
 the doctor. The footman's master, without a word 
 of explanation, walked out bare-headed into the 
 back garden, oh the search, as the doctor and the 
 servants "supposed, for some trace of the robber who 
 had. attempted Sir Joseph's life. 
 
 His absence was hardly noticed at the time. Tha 
 difficulty of conveying the wounded man to his 
 room, absorbed the attention of all the persons pres- 
 ent, s 
 
 Sir Joseph partially recovered his senses while 
 they were taking him up the steep and narrow 
 stairs. Carefully as they carried the patient, the 
 motion wrung a groan from him before-they reached 
 the top. The bedroom corridor, in the rambling, 
 ^irregularly built house, rose and fell on different 
 levels. At the door of the first bed-chamber the 
 doctor asked a little anxiously if that was the room. 
 No ; there were three more stairs to go down, and a 
 corner to turn, before they could reach it. The first 
 room was Natalie's. She instantly offered it for her 
 father's use. The doctor (seeing that it was the airi- 
 est as well as the nearest room) accepted the pr<^ 
 
126 MISS OB MBS.? 
 
 posal. Sir Joseph had been laid comfortably in his 
 daughter's bed ; the doctor had just left them, with 
 renewed assurances that, they need feel no anxiety — 
 when they heard a heavy step below stairs. Tur- 
 lington had re-entered the house. 
 
 (He had been looking, as they had supposed^for 
 the ruffian who had attacked Sir Joseph; with a 
 motive, however, for the search, at which it was im- 
 possible for other persons to guess. His own safety 
 was now bound up in the safety of Thomas Wild- 
 fang. As soon as he was out of sight in the dark- 
 ness, he made straight for the malthouse. The 
 change of clothes was^there untouched; not 'a trace 
 of his accomplice was to be seen.. Where else to 
 look for him it was impossible to tell. Turlington 
 had no alternative but to go back to the house, and 
 ascertain if suspicion had been aroused in his ab- 
 sence.) 
 
 He had only to ascend the stairs, and to see 
 through the open door, that Sir Joseph had been 
 placed in his daughter's room. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " he asked roughly. 
 
 Before it was possible to answer him the footman 
 appeared with a message. The doctor had come 
 back to the door, to say that he would take on him- 
 self the necessary duty of informing the constable 
 of what had happened^ on his return to the village. 
 Turlington started and changed color. If Wildfang 
 was found by others, and questioned in his employ- 
 er's absence, serious consequences might follow 
 
INSIDE THE HOUSE. 127 
 
 "The constable is my business," said Turlington, 
 hurriedly descending the stairs " I'll go with the 
 doctor." They heard him open the door below, then 
 close it again (as if some sudden thought had struck 
 him) and called to the footman. The house was 
 badly provided with servants' bedrooms. The wo- 
 men-servants only.slept indoors. The footman oc- 
 cupied a room over the stables. Natalie and her 
 aunt heard Turlington dismiss the man for the night, 
 an hour earlier than usual at least. His next pro- 
 ceeding was stranger still. Looking cautiously over 
 the stairs, Natalie saw him lpck all the doors on the 
 ground floor and take out the keys. When he went 
 away she heard him lock the front door behind him. 
 Incredible as it seemed, there could be no doubt of 
 the fact — the inmates of the house were imprisoned 
 till he came back. What did it mean ? 
 
 It meant that Turlington's vengeance still re- 
 mained to be wreaked on the woman who had de- 
 ceived him. It meant that Sir Joseph's life still 
 stood between the man who had compassed hisftieath 
 and the money which the man was resolved to have. 
 It meant that Richard Turlington was driven to 
 bay, and that the horror and the peril of the night 
 were not at end yet. 
 
 Natalie and her aunt looked at each other across 
 the bed on which Sir Joseph lay. He had fallen in- 
 to a kind of doze ; no enlightenment could come to 
 them from Mm. They could only ask each other, 
 with beating hearts and baffled minds, what Rich* 
 
128 MISS OE MES.? 
 
 ard's conduct meant — they could only feel instinct- 
 ively that some dreadful discovery was hanging over 
 them. The aunt was the calmer of the two — there 
 was no secret weighing heavily'on her conscience. 
 She could feel the consolations of religion. " Our 
 dear one is spared to us, my love," said the old lady 
 gently. " God has be"en good to us. We are in His 
 hands. If we know that, we know enough." 
 
 As she spoke there was a loud ring at the. door- 
 bell. The woman-servants crowded into the bed- 
 room in alarm. Strong in nunfbers, and encouraged 
 by Natalie — who roused herself and led the way — 
 they confronted the risk of opening the window and 
 of venturing out on the balcony which extended 
 along that side of-the house. A man was dimly vis- 
 ible below. He called to them in thick, unsteady 
 accents. The servants recognized him : he was the 
 telegraphic messenger from the railroad. They 
 went down to speak to him — and returned with a 
 telegram which had been pushed in under the door. 
 The distance from the station was considerable ; the 
 messenger had been " Keeping Christmas " in more 
 than one beershop on his way to the house; and the 
 delivery of the telegram had been delayed for some 
 hours. It was addressed to Natalie. She opened it 
 — looked at it — dropped' it — and stood speechless ; 
 her lips parted in horror, her eyes staring vacantly 
 straight before her. ' 
 
 Miss Lavinia took the telegram from the floor, and 
 read these lines :— "-' 
 
IKSIDB THE HOUSE. 129 
 
 "Lady Winwood, Hertford Street, London. To 
 Natalie G-raybrooke, Church Meadows, Baxdale, 
 Somersetshire. Dreadful news. R. T. has discov- 
 ered your marriage -to Launce. The truth has been 
 kept from, me till to-day (24th). Instant flight with 
 your husband is your Srfly chance. I would have 
 communicated with Launce, but I do not know his 
 address. You will receive this, I hope and believe, 
 before R. T. can return to,, Somersetshire. Tele- 
 graph back, I entreat you, to say that you are safe. 
 I shall follow my message if I do nQt hear from you 
 in reasonable time." _ 
 
 _.,_.Miss Lavinia, lifted her gray head and looked at 
 
 1 her niece. " Is this true ? " she said — and* pointed 
 to the venerable, face laid back, white, on the white 
 pillow of the bed/ - Natalie sank forward as her eyes 
 met the eyes of her aunt. Miss Lavinia -saved her 
 
 , from falling insensible on the floor. 
 
 The confession had been made. The words of 
 penitence and the words of pardon had been spoken. 
 The peaceful face of the father still lay hushed in 
 rest. ,One by one, .the minutes succeeded each other 
 uneventfully in the deep tranquillity of the night. 
 It was^almost a relief when the .silence was disturbed 
 once more by "another sound outside tjhe house. A 
 pebble was "thrown up at the window, and a voice 
 •called out cautiously, " Miss Lavinia ! " 
 
 They recognized the voice of the man-servant, and 
 at once opened the window. 
 
 ' 9 
 
130 MISS OK MRS.? 
 
 He tad something to say to the ladies in private. 
 How could he say it ? A domestic circumstance 
 ■which ha^ been marked by Launce, as favorable to 
 the contemplated elopement, was now noticed by the 
 servant as lending itself readily to effecting the nee- 
 eslsary communication with the ladies. , The lock of 
 the gardener's tool-house in ,the shrubbery- close by 
 was under repair ; ' and the gardener's ladder was 
 accessible to any one who wanted it. At the short 
 height of the balcony from the ground, the ladder 
 was more than long enough for the purpose -required. 
 In a few minutes the servant had mounted to the 
 balcony and could speak to Natalie and her aunjb at 
 the window. 
 
 " I can't rest quiet," said the man. " I'm off on 
 the sly to see what's going on down in the village- 
 It's hard on ladies like you to be locked jn here. I» 
 there anything. I can do for either of you? " 
 
 Natalie tqok up Lady Winwood's telegram^ 
 " Launce ought to see this," she said to her aunt. 
 " He will be here at daybreak," she added, in a whis- 
 per, "if I don't tell him what has happened." 
 
 Miss Lavinia turned pale. "If he and Richard 
 meet— " she began. " Tell him I " she added, hur- 
 riedly — " tell him before it is too late ! " 
 
 Natalie wrote a few lines addressed to Launce in 
 his assumed name, at his lodgings in the^rillage, en- 
 closing Lady Winwood's telegram, and entreating 
 him to do nothing rash. When the servant had dis- 
 appeared with the letter, there was one hope in her 
 
INSIDE THE HOUSE. 131 
 
 mind and in her aunt's mind, which each was 
 ashamed to acknowledge to the other — the hope that 
 Launce would face the very danger that they dreaded 
 for, him, and come to the house. 
 
 They had not, been long alone again, wheii Sir 
 Joseph drowsily opened his eyes and asked what 
 they were doing in his room. They told him gently 
 that he was iH. He put his hand up to his head and 
 *aid they were right ; and so dropped off again into 
 slumber. Worn out by the emotions through* which 
 they had passed, the two women silently waited for 
 the march of events. The same stupor of resigna- 
 tion possessed them both. They had secured the 
 ^door and the window. They had prayed together* 
 They had kissed the quiet face on the pillow. They 
 had said to each other, "We will live .with him or 
 die with him as God pleases." Miss Lavinia sat by 
 the bedside. Natalie was on a stool at her feet — 
 with her eyes closed, and her head on her aunt's 
 knee. 
 
 Time went on. The clock in the hall had struck 
 -—ten or eleven,- they were not sure which— when 
 they heard the signal which warned them of the 
 servant's return from the village. He brought news, 
 and more than news, he brought a letter from 
 Tiaunce. "V *" 
 
 Natalie read these lines.: — 
 
 "I shall be with you, dearest, almost as soon as 
 you receive this. The bearer will tell you wbat has 
 happened in- the village— your note iEhrows anew 
 
132 MISS OK MBS.? - 
 
 light on it all. I only remain behind to go to the 
 vicar (who is also the magistrate here), and declare 
 myself your husband. "AH disguise must be at an 
 end now.' My place is with you and yours. It is 
 even worse than your worst fears,. Turlington was 
 at the bottom of the attack on your father. Judge 
 if you have, not need of your husband's protection 
 after that !— L/' 
 
 Natalie handed the letter to her aunt, and pointed 
 to the sentence which asserted Turlington's guilty 
 knowledge of the attempt on Sir Joseph's life. In 
 silent horror the two women looked at each other, 
 recalling what had happened earlier in the evening, 
 and understanding it now. The servant roused 
 them to a sense of present things, by entering on the 
 narrative of hisjdiscoveriesin the village. "" 
 
 The place' was all astir when he reached it. An 
 old man — a stranger in Baxdale — had, been found 
 lying in the road, close to the church, in a fit ; aild 
 the person who had discovered^ him had been no 
 other than Launce himself. He had, literally, stum- 
 bled over the body of Thomas Wildfang in the dark, 
 on his way back to his lodgingsjn the village. 
 
 "The gentleman gave the alarm? Miss," said the 
 servant, describing the event as it had^been related 
 to him, " and the man — a huge big old man — was 
 carried to the inn. The landlord identified him ; he 
 had taken lodgings at the inn that day, and the 
 constable found valuable property on him — a purse 
 pf money and a gold watch and chain. There was 
 
INSIDE THE HOUSE. 133 
 
 nothing to show who the money and watch belonged 
 to. It was only when my master and the doctor got 
 to the inn that it was known whom he had robbed 
 and tried to murder- All he let out in his wander- 
 ings before they came was, that some person had set 
 him on to it. He called the person ' Captairi,' and 
 sometimes ' Captain Goward.' It was thought — if 
 you- could trust the ravings of a madman — that the 
 fit. N took him while he was putting his hand on Sir 
 Joseph's heart t& feel if it had stopped beating. A 
 sort of a vision, as I understand it, must have over- 
 powered him at the momeafe They tell me he raved 
 about the sea bursting into the churchyard, and a 
 drowning sailor floating by on a hen-coop ; a sailor 
 who dragged him down to hell by the hair of his 
 head, and such like horrible nonsense, Miss. He was 
 still screeching, at the Worst of the fit, when my 
 master and the doctor came into the rooms At the 
 sight of one or other of them— it is thought of Mr. 
 Turlington, seeing that he came first — he held his 
 peace on a sudden, andjfcften fell back in convulsions 
 in the arms of the men who were holding himi The 
 doctor gave it a learned name, signifying drink; 
 madness, and said the case was hopeless. However, 
 he ordered the room to be cleared of the cr'o-vgd, to 
 see what he could do. My master was reported to 
 be still with the^octor, waiting" to see whether the 
 man lived" or died, when I left the-village, with the 
 gentleman's answer to your note. I didn't dare to 
 
134 , MISS OR MRS.? 
 
 stay to hear how it ended, for fear of Mr. Turling- 
 ton's finding me out." . 
 
 Having reached the. end of his narrative, tne man 
 looked round restlessly tovjard the window. It was 
 inipossible to say when his master might not return; 
 and it might be as much as his life was worth to be 
 'caught in the house after he had been locked out of 
 it. He begged permission to open the window, and 
 make his escape back to the stables while there still 
 was. time. As he unbarred the shutter they were 
 startled by a voice hailing them from below. It was 
 Launce's voice, calling to Natalie, The servant 
 disappeared — and Natalie was in Launce's arms be- 
 fore she could breathe again. 
 
 For one delicious moment she let her head lie on 
 , his breast: then she suddenly pushed him away 
 from her. " Why do you come here ? He will kill 
 you if he finds you in the house. Where is he?" 
 
 Launce knew even less of Turlington's movements 
 than the servant. "Wherever he is, thank God, I'm 
 here before him ! " That was all the answer he 
 cquld give. ' ^ 
 
 -.Natalie and. her aunt heard him in silent dismay. 
 Sir Joseph woke and recognized Launce before a 
 word more could be said. " Ah, my dear boy I " .he 
 murmured faintly. " It's pleasant to see you again. 
 How do you come here?" He was quite satisfied 
 with the first excuse that suggested. itself. " We'll 
 talk about it to-morrow," he said, and composed him- 
 pelf to rest again. 
 
INSIDE THE HOUSE. 135 
 
 Natalie made a second attempt to persuade Lauuce 
 to leave the house. _. 
 
 "We don't know what may have. happened," she 
 said. " He may have followed you on- your way 
 here. He may have purposely let you enter his 
 house. -Leave us while you have the chance." 
 
 Miss'Lavinia added her persuasions. They were 
 useless. Launce quietly closed the heavy window- 
 shutters, lined with iron, and put up the bar. Natalie 
 wrung her hands in despair. 
 
 "Have yo£ been to the magistrate?" she asked. 
 " Tell us, at least, are you here by hiaadvice ? Is he 
 coming to help us ? " 
 
 Launce hesitated. If he had told the truth, he 
 must have acknowledged that he was there in direct 
 ^opposition -to the magistrate's advice. He answered 
 evasively, " If the vicar doesn't come, the doctor 
 will. I have told him Sir Joseph must be moved. 
 Cheer^.up, Natalie ! The doctor will be here as soon 
 as Turlington." 
 
 As the name passed his lips— without a sound out- 
 side to prepare them for what was coming — the 
 voice of Turlington himself suddenly penetrated 
 into the room, speaking close behind the window on 
 the outer side". 
 
 "You have broken into my house in the night," 
 said the voice, "And you don't escape this way."_ 
 
 Miss Lavinia sank on her knees. Natalie flew to 
 her father. His eyes were wide open in terror; he 
 moaned feebly, recognizing the voice. The next 
 
136 MISS OE MBS.? 
 
 sound that was heard was the souncfmade by the 
 removal of the ladder from the balcony. Turling- 
 ton, having descended by it, had taken it away. 
 Natalie had out too accurately guessed what would 
 happen. The death of the villain's accomplice had 
 freed him from all apprehensions in that quarter. 
 He had deliberately dogged Launce's steps; and had 
 deliberately allowed him to put himself in the 
 wrong by effecting a secret entrance into the house. 
 
 There was an interval — a horrible interval — and 
 then they heard the front door opened. Without 
 stopping (judging by the absence of sound) to close 
 it again, Turlington rapidly ascended the stairs and 
 tried the locked door. 
 
 " Come out, and give yourself up ! " he called 
 through the door. " I have got my revolver with 
 me, and I have a right to fire on a man who has 
 broken into my house. If the door isn't opened be- 
 fore I count three,-your blood be on your own head. 
 One ! " 
 
 Launce was armed with nothing but his stiek. He 
 advanced, without an instant's hesitation, to give 
 himself up. Natalie threw her arms round him and 
 clasped him fast before he could reach the door. 
 
 " Two ! " cried the voice outside, as Launce strug- 
 gled to force her from him. At the same moment 
 his eye turned toward the bed. It was exactly op- 
 posite the door — it was straight in the line of fire ! 
 Sir Joseph's life (as Turlington had deliberately 
 calculated) was actually in greater danger than 
 
INSIDE THE HOUSE. 137 
 
 Launce's life. „He tore himself free, rushed to the 
 bed, and took the old man in his arms to lift him 
 out, 
 
 " Three ! " 
 
 The crash of the report sounded. The bullet 
 came through the door, grazed Launce's left arm, 
 and buried itself in the_pillow, at the very place on 
 which Sir Joseph's head had rested the moment be- 
 fore. "Launce, had saved his father-in-law 2 ^ life. 
 Turlington had fired his first shot for the money, 
 and had not got it yet. 
 
 They were safe in the corner of the room, on the 
 same side as the . door— Sir Joseph, helpless, as a 
 child, in Launch's arms ; the women pale, but ad- 
 mirably , calm^ They were, safe for the^ moment, 
 when the second bullet (fired at an -angle) tore its 
 way through the wall on their right hand. 
 \ " I hear you," cried the voice of the miscreant on 
 the other side of the door.^v" I'll have* you yet — - 
 through the wall." 
 
 There was a pause. They .heard his hand sound- 
 ing the wall, to find out where there was solid wood 
 in the material of which it was built, and where 
 there was plaster only. At that dreadful moment 
 Launce's composure never left him. He laid Sir 
 Joseph softly on the floor, and signed to Natalie and 
 her aunt to lie down by him in silence. Their lives 
 depended now on neither their voices nor their 
 movements telling the murderer where to fire. He 
 chose his place. The barrel of the revolver grated 
 
138 MIS8 OR MRS.? 
 
 as he laid it against the wall.- He touched the hair- 
 trigger. A faint click was the only sound that fol- 
 lowed. The third barrel had missed fire. 
 
 They heard him ask himself, with an oath, " What's 
 wrong wi|;h it now ? " 
 
 There was a pause of silence. 
 
 Was he eVamining the weapon ? 
 
 Before they could ask themselves 'the question, 
 the report of the exploding charge burst on their 
 ears. It was instantly followed by a heavy fall. 
 They looked at the opposite wall of the room. No- 
 eign of a bullet there or anywhere. 
 
 Launce signed to them not to move yet. They 
 waited, and listened/ Nothing stirred on the land- 
 ing outside. 
 
 Suddenly there was a disturbance of the silence 
 in the lowej regions— a clamor of many voices at 
 the open house door. Had the firing of the revolver 
 been heard at the vicarage ? Yes ! They recognized 
 the vicar's' voice among the others. A moment 
 more, and they heard a general-exclamation of hor- 
 ror on the sjtairs. Launce opened tire door of the 
 room. He instantly closed it again before Natalie 
 could follow him. 
 
 The dead body of Turlington lay on the landing 
 outside. The charge in the fdurth barrel of the re- 
 volver had exploded while he was~ looking at it. The 
 bullet had entered his mouth and had killed him on 
 the spot. 
 
DOCUMENTARY/ HINTS IN CONCLUSION. 139 
 
 DOCUMENTARY HINTS IN 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 FIRST HINT. 
 
 (Derived from Lady Wwwood's Card-rack.') 
 
 . '.' Sir Joseph Graybrooke and Miss Graybrooke 
 request ihe honor of Lord and Lady Winwoodk 
 company to dinner, on Wednesday, February 10, at 
 half-past seven o'clock. To meet Mr. and Mrs. 
 Launcelot Linzie on their return." 
 
 second hint. 
 
 (Derived from a recent money article in a morning 
 newspaper.) , 
 
 " We are requested to give the fullest contradic- 
 tion to unfavorable rumors lately in circulation 
 respecting the firm of Pizzituti, Turlington, and 
 Branca. Some temporary derangement^ in the 
 machinery of the business was undoubtedly pro- 
 duced, in consequence of the sudden death of the 
 lamented managing partner," Mr. Turlington, by the 
 accidental discharge of a revolver which he was 
 examining. Whatever temporary obstacles may 
 have existed are now overcome. We are informed, 
 on good authority, that the well-known house of 
 Messrs. Bulpit Brothers had an interest in the busi- 
 ness, and will carry it on until further notice." i 
 
"BLOW UP WITH THE BRIG!" 
 
"BLOW UP WITH THE BBIG!" 143 
 
 "BLOW UP WITH THE BRIG!" 
 
 A SAILOR'S STORY. 
 « 
 
 I have an alarming confession to make,/ I am 
 haunted by a ghost. 
 
 If yon were to guess for a hundred years, you 
 would never guess what my ghost is. I shall make 
 you laugh to begin, with — and afterward I shall 
 make your flesh creep. My Ghost is the ghost of a 
 Bedrooin Candlestick. 
 
 Yes, a bedroom candlestick and .candle, or a flat 
 candlestck and candle — put it which way you like 
 — >-that is what haunts me. I wish it was something 
 pleasanter and more out of the common way; a 
 Beautiful lady, or a mine of gold and silver; or a 
 cellar of» wine and a coach and horses, and such-like. 
 But, being what it is, I must take it for what it is, 
 and make the best ofy it— and I shall thank you 
 kindly if. yoilhelp me out by doing the same. 
 
 I am not a scholar myself ; but I make bold to be- 
 lieve that the haunting of any man with anything 
 under, the sun, begins with the frightening of hjdn. 
 At any rate, the haunting of me with a ~bedroom 
 candlestick and candle began with the frightening 
 of me with a bedroom candlestick and candle — the 
 frightening of me half out of my life ; and, for the- 
 
144 ~- "BLOW TO WITH THE BEIG!" 
 
 time being, the frightening of me altogether out of 
 my wits. That is not a very pleasant thing to con- 
 fess, before stating the particulars ; but perhaps you 
 will be the readier to believe that I am not a down- 
 right coward, because you find me bold enough to 
 make a clean breast of it already — to my own great 
 disadvantage, so far. 
 
 Here are the particulars, as well as I can put 
 them : — 
 
 I was apprenticed to the sea when I was about as 
 tall as my own walking-stick; and I made good 
 enough use of my time to be fit for a mate's berth 
 at the age of twenty-five years. 
 
 It was in the year eighteen hundred and- eight- 
 een, or nineteengsl am not quite certain which, that 
 I reached the before-mentioned age of twenty-five, 
 You will please to excuse my memory, not being 
 very good for dates, names, numbers, . plaefs, and 
 such-like. No fear, though, about the particulars I 
 have undertaken to tell you of; I have got them all 
 ship-shape in my recollection ; I can see them, at 
 this moment, as clear as noonday in my own mind- 
 But there is a mist over what went before, and, for 
 the matter of that, a mist likewise over much that 
 came after — and it's not very likely to lift at my 
 time of life, is it? "' , .. _„ 
 
 Well in eighteen hundred and eighteen, or njnelj 
 teen, when there was peace in our part of the world 
 — and not before it was wanted, you will say — there 
 was fighting, of a certain scampering, scrambling 
 
'•blow up with the brig!" 145 
 
 kind, going on in that old battle-field, which, we sea- 
 faring men know by the name of the Spanish Main. 
 
 The possessions .that belonged to the Spaniards in 
 South America had broken into open mutiny and 
 declared Tor themselves years before. There was 
 plenty of bloodshed between the new government 
 and the old ; out the new had got the best of it, for 
 the most part, under one General Bolivar— a famous 
 man in his time, though he seems to have dropped 
 out of people's memories now. Englishmen and 
 Irishmen with a turn for, fighting, and nothing par- 
 ticular to do at homo, joined the general as volun- 
 teers ; and some of our merchants here found it a 
 good venture to send supplies . across the ocean to 
 the popular side. There was v risk enough, of course, 
 in doing this ; but where one^peculation of the kind 
 succeeded, it made- up for the two, at least, thai 
 failed. And that's the true principle of trade,' wher- 
 ever I have met with it) all the world over. 
 
 Among the Englishmen who were concerned in 
 this Spanish-American business, I, your humble 
 servant, happened in a small way to be one. 
 
 I was then mate of a brig belonging to a certain 
 firm in the city, which drove a sort of general trade, 
 mostly in qu'eer^out-of-the-way places, as far, w from 
 home as possible; and which freighted the brig, In 
 the year I am speaking of, with a cargo of gunpow- 
 der for General Bolivar and his volunteers. No- 
 body knew anything about our instructions, when we 
 sailed, except the captain ; and he didn't half seem 
 10 
 
146 "BLOW UP WITH THE BEIG!" r 
 
 to like them. I can't rightlyjay how many barrels 
 of powder we had on board, or how much each bar- 
 rel held — I only know we had no other cargo. The 
 name of the brig was the Good Intent— a queer name 
 enough, you will tell me, for a xessel laden with, 
 gunpowder, and sent to .help a revolution^ And as 
 far as this particular voyage was concerned, so it 
 was. I meant that for a joke, and I hope you will 
 encourage me by laughing at it. 
 
 The Good Intent was the craziest old tub of a ves- 
 sel I ever went to sea in, and the worst found in all 
 respects, phe was two hundred and thirty or two 
 hundred and eighty tons burden, I forget which ; 
 and she had a crew of eight, all told — nothing like 
 as many as we ought by rights to have had to work 
 thj brig. However, we were well and honestly paid 
 our wages; and we had to set that against the 
 chance of foundering at sea, and, on this occasion, 
 likewise, the chance of being blown up into the bar- 
 gain. 
 
 In consideration of the nature of our cargo, we 
 were harassed with new regulations which we didn't 
 at all like, .relative to smoking our pipes and light- 
 ing our lanterns ; and, as usual in such cases, the 
 captain who made the regulations preached what he 
 didn't practice. Not a man of us was allowed to 
 have a bit of lighted candle in his hand when he 
 went below — except the skipper; and he used his 
 light, when he turned in, or when he looked over his 
 charts on the cabin table, just as usual. 
 
"BLOW UP WITH THE BRIG ! " 147 
 
 This light was a common kitchen candle or "dip," 
 and it stood in an old battered flat candle-stick, with 
 all "the japan worn and melted off, and* all the tin 
 showing through. It would have been more seaman- 
 like _and suitable in every respect if he had had a 
 lamp or a lantern ; but ■ he stuck to his old candle- 
 stick, and that same old candlestick has ever after- 
 ward stuck to me. That's, another" joke, if you 
 please, and a better one than .the first, in my opinion. 
 
 Well (I said "well" before, but it's a word that 
 helps aT~man on like), we sailed in the brig, and 
 shaped our course first for the Virgin Islands, in the 
 West Indies ; and, "after sighting them, we made for 
 the Leewai'd Islands next ; and then stood on duo 
 south, till the lookout at the mast-head hailed tho 
 deck, and said he saw land. That lsmd was the coast 
 of South -America. We had had a wonderful voy 
 age so far. We had lost none of our spars or sails, 
 and not a man of us had been harassed to death at 
 the pumps. It wasn't often the Good Intent made 
 such a voyage as that, I can tell you- 
 
 I was sent aloft to make sure about the landj and 
 I did make sure of it. 
 
 When I reported the same to the skipper, be went 
 below, and had a look at his letter of instructions 
 and the chart. When he came on deck again, he 
 altered our course a trifle to the eastward — I forget 
 the point on the compass, but ^that don't matter. 
 What I do remember is, that it was dark before we 
 closed in with the land. We kept the lead going, 
 
148 "BLOW tTP WITH THE BBHSJ ** 
 
 and hove the brig to in from four to five fathoms of 
 water, or^it might be six — Iaan't say for certain, I 
 kept a -sharp eye -to live drift of the vessel, none of 
 us knowing how the currents ran on that coast, We 
 all wondered why the skipper didn't anchor ; but he 
 said, No, he must first show a light at the fore top 
 mast-head, and wait for an answering light on shore, 
 We did wait, and nothing* of the' sort appeared. It 
 was starlight and calm." What little wind there was 
 came in puffs off the land. I suppose we waited, 
 drifting a little to the westward, as I -made it out, 
 best part pf an hour before anything happened — and 
 then, instead of seeing the light on shore, we saw a 
 boat coming-toward usj rowed by two men only. 
 
 We hailed them, and they answerecT" Friends ! " 
 and hailed us by our name. They came on board. 
 One of them was an Irishman, and the other was 
 a coffee-colored native pilot, who jabbered a little 
 English. 
 
 The Irishman . handed a note to our skipper, who 
 showed it to me. It informed us that the part of 
 the coast we were off was not over safe for discharg- 
 ing our cargo, seeing that spies of the enemy (that 
 is to say, of y the old government) had been taken 
 and shot in the neighborhood the day before. We 
 might trust the brig ttrthe native pilot ; and he had 
 his instructions to take us to anothef part of the 
 coast. The note was signed by the proper parties, 
 so we let the Irishman go back alone in the boat, 
 and allowed the pilot to exercise his lawful authority 
 
"BLOW OT WITH THE BBIGl" 149 
 
 over the brig. He kept us stretching off from the 
 land till noon the next day — 'his instructions, seem- 
 ingly, ordering him to keep us well out of sight of 
 the shore. We only altered our course in the after- 
 noon, so as to close in with the land again a little be- 
 fore midnight. 
 
 This same pilot was about as ill-looking a vagabond 
 as ever I saw ; a skinny, cowardly, quarrelsome mon- 
 grel, who swore, at the men, in the vilest broken 
 Epglish, till they were every one of them ready to 
 pitch him overboard- The skipper kept them quiet, 
 and I kept them quiet, for, the pilot being given us 
 by our instructions, we were bound to make the best 
 of him. Near nightfall, however, with the best will 
 in the world to avoid it, I was unlucky enough to 
 quarrel with him. 
 
 He wanted to go below with his pipe, and I stop- 
 ped him, of course, because it was contrary to orders. 
 Upon that;. he tried to hustle by me, and, I put him 
 away with my hand. I never meant to push him 
 down ; but, somehow, I did. • He picked himself up 
 as quick as lightning, and pulled out. his knife. I 
 snatched it out of his hand, slapped his murderous 
 face for him, and threw his weapon overboard. He 
 gave me one ugly look, and walked aft. I didn't 
 think much of the look "then ; but I remembered it a 
 little too well afterward. 
 
 We were close in with the land again, just as the 
 wind failed^us., between eleven and twelve that night. 
 We dropped our anchor by the pilot's directions. 
 
150 "BLOW TJ^WITH THE BBIG!" 
 
 It was pitch dark, and a dead, airless calm. The 
 skipper was on deck with two of our best men for 
 watch. The rest were below, except* the pilot, who 
 coiled himself up more like a snake than a man, on 
 the forecastle. It was not my watch till four in the 
 morning. But I didn't like the lookof the night, 
 or the pilot, or the state of things generally, and I 
 shook myself down on deck to get my nap there* 
 and be ready for anything at a moment's notice. 
 The last I remember was the skipper whispering to 
 me that he didn't like the looks of things "either, and 
 that he would go below and consult his instructions 
 again. That is - the last I remember, before the slow, 
 heavy, regular roll of the old brig on the ground 
 swell rocked me off to sleep. 
 
 I was awoke by a scuffle on the forecastle, and a 
 '"gag in my mouth. There was a man on my breast, 
 and a man on my legs ; and_ I was~bound hand and 
 foot in half a minute. 
 
 The brig was in the hands of the Spaniards. 
 They were swarming all over her. I heard six 
 heavy splashes in the water, one after another. I 
 saw the captain stabbed to the heart as he came run- 
 ning up the companion — and I heard a seventh splash 
 in the water. Expect myself, every soul of us on 
 board had been murdered and thrown into the sea. 
 Why I was left, I couldn't thinks till I saw the pilot 
 stoop over me with a lantern, and look, to make sure 
 of who I was. There was a devilish grin on his 
 face, and he nodded his head at me, as much as to 
 
** BLOW UP WITH THE BRIG ! " 151 
 
 say, You were the man who hustled nie down and 
 slapped my face, and I mean to play the game of cat 
 and mouse with you in return for it.! 
 
 I could neither move nor speak ; but I could see 
 the Spaniards take off the main hatch and rig the 
 purchases for getting up the cargo. A quarter of an 
 hour afterward I heard the sweeps of a schooner, 
 or other small vessel, in the water. The strange 
 craft was laid alongside of us ; and the Spaniards set 
 to work to discharge our cargo into her. They all 
 Worked hard except the pilot ; and he came, from time 
 to time, with his lantern, to have another look at me, 
 and to grin and nod always in the same devilish 
 way. I am old' enough now not to be ashamed of 
 confessing the truth ; andv I doh*t mind acknowl- 
 edging that the pilot frightened me. 
 
 The fright, and the bonds, and the gag, and the 
 not being able to stir hand or foot, had pretty nigh 
 worn me out, by the time the Spaniards gave over 
 work. This was just as the dawn broke. They had 
 shifted good part of our cargo on board their vessel, 
 but nothing like all of it; and they were sharp 
 enough to be off with what they had got, before day- 
 light. 
 
 I need hardly say that I had made up my mind, 
 - by this time, to the worst I could think of. The 
 pilot, it was clear enough, was one of the spies of 
 the enemy, who had wormed himself into the con- 
 fidence of our consignees without being suspected. 
 He, or more likely his employers, had got knowl- 
 
152 "BLOW ¥P WITH THE BEIGl" 
 
 edge enough of us to suspect what dur cargo was; we 
 had been anchored for the night in- the safest berth 
 for them to surprise us "in; and we had paid the 
 penalty of * having a small crew ; and consequently 
 an insufficient watch. All this was clear enough 
 —but what did the pilot mean to do with me ? 
 
 On the word of a man, it makes my flesh creep 
 now, only to tell you what he did with me. -~~ 
 
 After all the rest of them were out of the brig 
 except, the pilot and two Spanish seamen, these last 
 took me up, bound andjjagged as I was, lowered me 
 into the hold of the vessel, and laid me along on the 
 floor; lashing me to it with ropes'. ends, so that I 
 cpuld just turn from qne side to the other, but could 
 not roll myself fairly ove'r, so as to change my place. 
 They then left me. Both of them were the worse 
 for liquor ; but the devil of a pilot was sober — mind 
 that ! as sober as I am at the present moment. 
 
 I lay in the dark for a little while, with my heart 
 thumping as if it was going to jump out of "me. I 
 lay about five minutes or so, when the pilot came 
 down into the hold alone. 
 
 He had the captain's cursed flat candlestick and a 
 carpenter's awl in one hand, and a long thin twist of 
 cotton yarn, well oiled, in the other. He put the 
 candlestick, /with a new " dip " candle lighted in it, 
 down on the floor, about two feet from my face, and 
 close against the side of the vessel. The light was 
 feeble enough ; but it was sufficient to show a dozen 
 barrels of gunpowder or more, left all around me in 
 
"BLOW UP WITH THE BEIG!" 153 
 
 the hold of the brig. I began to suspect what he 
 was after, the moment I noticed the barrels. The 
 horrors laid hold of me from head to foot; and the 
 sweat poured off my face like water. 
 /-,-,■ I saw him go next.ta.one of the barrels of powder 
 standing against the side of the vessel, in a line with 
 the candle, and about three feet, or Tather better, 
 away from it. He bored a hole in the side of the 
 barrel with his awl, and ^he horrid powder came 
 trickling out, as black as hell, and dripped into the 
 hollow of his hand, which he held to catch it. 
 When he had got a good' handful, he stopped up the 
 hole by jamming one end of his oiled twist of cotton- 
 yarn fast into -it ; and he then rubbed the powder 
 into, the whole length of the yarn, till he had black- 
 ened every hairbreadth of it. 
 
 The next thing he did — as true as I sit here, as 
 true as the. heaven above us all— the next thing he 
 did was to carry the free end of his long, lean, black, 
 frightful slow-match to the lighted candle alongside 
 my face. He tied it (the bloody-minded villain !) 
 in several folds round the tallow dip, about a third 
 of the distance down, measuring from the flame of 
 the wick to the lip of the candlestick. He did 
 that ; he looked t6 see that my lashings were all 
 safe ; and then he put his face down close to mine, 
 and whispered in my ear, " Blow up with the brig-! " 
 
 He was on deck again the moment after ; and he 
 and the two others shoved the hatch on, over me. 
 At the farthest end from where I lay, they had not 
 
154 *'BLO"W UP WITH THE BKIG!" 
 
 fitted it down quite true, and I saw a blink of day- 
 light glimmering in when I looked in that direction. 
 I heard the sweeps of the -schooner fall into the 
 water — splash! splash ! fainter and fainter, as they 
 swept the vessel out in the dead calm, to be ready 
 for the wind in the offing. Fainter and fainter-, 
 splash ! splash ! for a quarter of an hour or more. 
 
 While those sounds were in my ears, my eyes 
 were fixed on the candle. 
 
 It had 'been freshly lit — if left* to itself it would 
 burn for between six and seven hours. The slow- 
 match was twisted round it about a third of the way 
 down ; and therefore the flame would be, about two 
 hours reaching it. T'here I lay; gagged, bound, 
 lashed to the floor; seeing my own life horsing 
 down with the candle by my side — there I lay, alone 
 on the sea, doomed to be blown to atoms, and to see 
 that doom drawing on, nearer and nearer with every 
 fresh second of time, through nigh on two hours to 
 come; powerless to help mySelf, and speechless >to 
 call for help to others. The wonder to me is that I 
 didn't cheat the flame, the slow-match, and the pow- 
 der, and die of the horror of my situation before my 
 first half-hour was out in the hold of the brig. 
 
 I can't exactly say how long I kept the command 
 of my senses' after I had ceased to hear the splash 
 of the schooner's sweeps in the water. I can trace 
 back everything I did and everything I thought/ up 
 to a certain point ; but, once past that, I get all" 
 
"BLOW UP WITH THE BRIG!" 155 
 
 abroad, and lose myself in my memory now, much 
 as I lost myself in my own feelings at the time. 
 
 The moment the hatch was covered over me I be- 
 gan, as every other^man would' have begun in my 
 place, with a frantic effort to free my hands. •' In the 
 mad panic I was in, I cut my flesh with the lashings 
 as if they had been knife-blades ; but I never stirred- 
 them. There was less chance still of freeing my 
 legs, or of tearing myself from the fastenings that 
 helU me to the floor. I gave in when I was all but 
 suffocated for want of breath. The gag, you will 
 please to remember, was a terrible enemy to me ; I 
 could only breathe freely through my nose — and that 
 is but a poor vent when a man is straining his 
 strength as far as ever it will go. 
 
 I gave in, and lay quiet, and got my breath again ; 
 my eyes glaring and straining at the candle all the 
 time. 
 
 While I was staring at it, the notion struck me of 
 trying to blow out the flame by pumping a long 
 breath at it suddenly through my nostrils. It was 
 too high above me, and too far away from me to be 
 reached in thatf fashion.. I tried, and tried, and tried 
 ■ — and then I gave in again and lay quiet again ; al- 
 ways with my eyes glaring at the candle, and the 
 candle glaring at me. The splash of the schooner's 
 sweeps was very faint by this time. I could only 
 just hear them in the morning stillness : Splash ! 
 splash ! — fainter and faintef^splash ! splash! 
 < Without exactly feeling my mind going, I began 
 
156 "BLOW TO WITH THE BBIGP' 
 
 to feel it getting queer, as early as this. The snuff 
 of the cradle was growing; taller and taller, and the 
 length bf tallow between the flame and the slow- 
 match, which was the length, of my life, was getting 
 shorter and shorter. I calculated that I had rather 
 less than an hour and a half to live. 
 
 An hour and a half! Was there a chance, in that 
 time, of a boat pulling off to the brig from the shore ? 
 Whether the land near which the vessel was anchored 
 was in possession of our side, or in possession of the 
 enemy's side, I made out that they must sooner or 
 later send to hail the brig, merely because she was a 
 stranger in those parts. The question for me was, 
 How soon ? The sun had riot riseiryet, as I could 
 tell by looking through the chink in the hatch. 
 There was no coast village near us, as we all knew 
 before the brig was seized by seeing no lights on 
 shore. There was no wind, as I could tell by listen- 
 ing, to bring any strange vessel near. If I had six 
 hours to live there might have been a chance for me, 
 reckoning from sunrise to noon. But with an hour 
 and a half, which had dwindled to an hour and a 
 quarter by this time^or, in other words, with the 
 earliness of the morning, the uninhabited coast, and 
 the dead calm all against me— there was not the 
 ghost of a chance. , As I felt that I had another 
 struggle — the last^-with my bonds ; and only cut 
 myself the deeper for my pains. 
 
 I gave in once more, and lay quiet and listened 
 for the splash of the sweeps.. 
 
"BLOW UP WITH THE BBIG!" 157 
 
 Gone ! Not a sound could Ihear but the blowing 
 of a fish' now and then on the 1 surface of the sea, and 
 the creak of the brig's crazy old spars, as she rolled 
 gently from side to side with the little swell there 
 was -on the. quiet water. * 
 
 An hour and a-quarter; The wick grew terribly 
 as the quarter slipped away ; and the charred top of 
 it began to thicken and spread out mushroom-shape. 
 It would fall off soon. Would it fall off red hot, and 
 would the swing of the brig cant it over the side of 
 the candle* and let it down on the slow-match ? If 
 it' would, I had about ten minutes to live instead of 
 an hour. -. 
 
 This dfscovery set my mind for a minute on a new 
 tack altogether. I began to ponder with myself 
 what sort of a death blowing-up might be. Painful ? 
 Well, it would be, surely, too sudden for that. Per- 
 haps just one crash, inside' me, or outside me, or 
 both, and nothing more? Perhaps not even a 
 crash; that and death, and the scattering of this 
 living body of mine into millions of fiery sparks, 
 might all happen in the- same instant ! I couldn't 
 make it out? I couldn't settle how it would 
 be. The minjites of calmness in -my mind left it, 
 before I had half done thinking ; and I got all abroad 
 again. *' 
 
 When I came back to my thoughts, or when they 
 came back to me (I can't say which), the wick was 
 awfully tall, the flame was burning with a smoke 
 
158 "BLOW TJP x WTTH THE BBIG!" 
 
 above it, the charred top was broad and red, and 
 heavily spreading out to its fall. 
 
 My despair and horror at seeing it took me in a 
 new way, which was good and right at any rate, for 
 my poor soul. I tried to pray ; in my own heart, 
 you will understand, for the gag. put all lip-praying 
 out of my power. I tried, but the candle seemed to 
 burn it up in me. I struggled hard to force my eyes 
 from the slow, murdering flame, and to look up 
 through the chink in the hatch at the blessed day- 
 light. I tried once, tried twice ; and gave it up. I 
 tried next only to shut my eyes, and keep them shut 
 — once — twice — and the second time I did it. " God 
 bless old mother and sister Lizzie ; God keep them 
 both, and forgive we." That was all I had time to 
 say, in my own heart, before my eyes opened again, 
 in spite of me, and the flame of the candle flew into 
 them, flew all over me, and burnt up the rest of my 
 thoughts in an instant. 
 
 I couldn't hear the fish blowing now ; I couldn't 
 hear the creak of the spars; I couldn't think; I 
 couldn't feel the sweat of my own death agony on 
 my face ; — I could only look at the heavy r charred 
 top of the wick. It swelled, tottered, bent over to 
 one side, dropped— red hot at the moment of its fall 
 -=*-black and harmless, even before the swing of the 
 brig had canted it over into the bottom ofthe can- 
 dlestick. : 
 
 I caught myself laughing. 
 
 Yes I laughing at the safe fall of the bit of wick* 
 
•'BLOW UP WITH THE BRIG!" 159 
 
 But for the gag I should have screamed with laugh- 
 ing. As it was, I shock with it inside me — shook 
 till the blood was in my head, and I was all but suf- 
 focated for want of breath. I had just sense enough 
 left to feel that my own horrid laughter, at that 
 awful moment, was a sign of my brain going at last. 
 I had just sense enough left to make another strug- 
 gle before my mind broke loose like a frightened 
 horse, and ran away with me. 
 
 One comforting look at the- blink of daylight 
 through the latch was what I tried for once more. 
 The fight to force my eyes from the candle and to 
 get that one look at the daylight, was the hardest I 
 had* had yet; and I -lost the fight. The flame had 
 hold of my eyes as fast as the lashings had hold of 
 my hands, tcouldn't look away from it. I couldn't 
 even shut my eyes, when I tried that next, for the 
 second time. There was the wick growing tall once 
 more 1 There was the space of unburnt candle be- 
 tween the light and the slow-match shortened to an 
 inch or less ! 
 -How much life did that inch leave me? Three- 
 quarters of an hour? Half-an-hour ? Fifty minutes? 
 Twenty minutes? Steady! an inch of tallow can- 
 dle would burn longer than twenty minutes. An 
 inch of tallow ! the notion of a man's body and soul 
 being kept together by an inch of tallow ! Wonder- 
 ful I Why, the^ greatest king that sits on a throne 
 can't keep a man's body and soul together; and 
 here's an inch of tallow that can do what the king 
 
160 "BLOW TTP WITH THE BRIG!" 
 
 can't! There's something to tell mother, when I 
 get liome, which will surprise her more than all the 
 rest of my voyages put together. I laughed in- 
 wardly, again, at the thought of that; and shook, 
 and swelled, and suffocated myself* till the light of 
 the candle leaped in through my eyes, and licked up 
 the laughter, and burnt it out of me, and made me 
 all empty and cold, and quiet once more- 
 Mother and Lizzie! I don't know when they 
 came back; but they did come back — not, as it 
 seemed to me, into my mind this time ; but right 
 down "bodily before me, in the hold of the brig. 
 
 Yes ; sure enough, there was Lizzie, just as light- 
 hearted as usual, laughing at me. Laughing ! Weil, 
 why not ? Who is to blame Lizzie for thinking I'm 
 lying on my baek, drunk in the cellar, with the beer 
 barrels all round me ? Steady ! she's crying now — 
 spinning round and round in a fiery mist, wringing 
 her hands, screeching out for help — fainter and 
 fainter, like the 'splash of the schooner's sweeps. 
 Gone ! — burnt up in the fiery mist. Mist ?. fire ? no - ; 
 neither one nor the other. It's mother makes the 
 light — mother knitting, with ten flaming points at 
 the ends of her fingers and thumbs, and slow* 
 matches hanging in bunches all round her face in- 
 stead of her own gray hair. Mother in her old arm- 
 chair, and the pilot's long, skinny hands hanging 
 over the back of the chair, dripping with gunpow- 
 der. No; no gunpowder, no chair, no mother — 
 nothing but the pilot's face, shining red hot, like a 
 
~*«BLOW UP WITH THE BBIGl" 161 
 
 nan, in the fiery mist ; turning upside down in the 
 fiery mist; running backward -and forward along 
 the slow-match, in the fiery mist ; spinning millions 
 of miles in a minute, in the fiery mist — spinning 
 itself smaller and smaller into one iiny point, and 
 that point darting on a sudden straight into my 
 head — and then, all fire and all mist — no hearing, 
 no seeing, no thinking, no feeling — the brig, the sea, 
 my own self, the whole world, all gone together ! 
 
 After what I've just told you, I know nothing, 
 and remember nothing, till I woke up (as it seemed 
 to me) in a comfortable bed, with two rough and 
 ready men like myself, sitting on each side of my 
 pillow, and a gentleman standing watching me at 
 the foot of the bed. It was about seven in the 
 morning. My sleep (or what seemed like my sleep 
 to me) had lasted better than eight months — I was 
 among my own countrymen in the island of Trini- 
 dad — the men at each side of my pillow were my 
 keepers, turn and turn about — and the gentleman 
 standing at the foot of the bed was the doctor. 
 What I said and did in those eight months, I never 
 have known and never shall. I woke out of it, as if 
 it had been one long sleep — that's all I know. 
 
 It was another two months or more before the 
 doctor thought it safe to answer the questions I 
 asked him. 
 
 The brig had been anchored, just as I had sup- 
 posed, off a part of the coast which was lonely 
 enough to make the Spaniards pretty sure of no in- 
 11 
 
162 "BLOW tJP WITH THE BRIG I * 
 
 terruptionyso long as they managed their murderous 
 work quietly under cover of night. 
 
 My life had hot been saved from the shore, but 
 from the sea. An American vessel, becalmed in the 
 offing, had made out the brig as the" sun rose ; and 
 the captain, having his time on his hands in conse- 
 quence of the calm, and seeing a vessel anchored 
 where no vessel had any reason-to be, had manned 
 one of his boats and sent his mate with it, to look a 
 little closer into the matter, and bring back a report 
 of what he saw. 
 
 What he saw, when he and his men found the brig 
 deserted and boarded her, was a gleam -of candle- 
 light through the chink in the hatchway. The flame 
 was within about a thread's breadth of the slow- 
 match when he lowered himself into the hold ; and 
 if he had not had the sense and coolness to cut the 
 match in two with his knife, before he touched the 
 candle, he and his men might have been blown up 
 along with the -brig, as well as me. The match 
 caught and turned into sputtering red fire, in the 
 very act of putting the candle out; and if the com- 
 munication with the powder barrel had not been 
 cut off, the Lord only knows what might have hap* 
 pened. 
 
 . What became of the Spanish schooner and the 
 pilot I have never heard from that day to this. 
 
 As for the brig, the Yankees took her, as they 
 took me, to Trinidad, and claimed their salvage, and 
 got it, I hope, for their own sakes. I was landed 
 
M BM>W UP falTH THE BBIG!" 16& 
 
 just in the same state as when they rescued me from 
 the brig — that is to say, clean out of my senses. 
 But, please to remember, it was a long time ago; 
 and, take my word for it, I was discharged cured, as 
 I haye told you. Bless your heart's, I'm all right 
 now, as you may see. I'm a little shaken by telling 
 the story, as is only natural — a little shaken, my 
 -good friends, that's ail. 
 
 THB END. 
 
The Minerva Publisnixg Co. 's iVorks — Continued. 
 
 SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT. 
 
 V-'e have.in press a. peculiar and unique book, 
 
 entitled 
 
 THE PREACHERS. 
 
 Written by a learned Catholic priest, who for ntany 
 
 years occupied a prominent position in 
 
 the Catholic Church. 
 
 The book, without being audacious, is fearless. 
 The author is sincere in whatever he has to say. 
 
 The manuscript of "The Preachers," which wfc 
 have preserved, is so peculiar that we cordially 
 invite all to call and examine it. It reminds one 
 of the ancient manuscripts to be found in the 
 libraries of the Old World. 
 
 " The Preachers" promises to arouse the admira- 
 tion, and, at ^e same time, the indignation of it? 
 readers. 
 
 For the rent of our publications, -write for a catalogue. 
 Books sent prepaid to any addrtxt on receipt of price. 
 
 m MINERYA PUBLISHING CO., 
 
 10 West 23d Street, New York.