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 ?>?:
 
 
 BAY RONALD. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW NOVELS AT ALL LIBRARIES. 
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. By Colin Middleton. r, vols. 
 ROBERT CARROLL. By M. E. Le Clerc, author of 
 
 'Mistress Beatrice Cope,' 'A Kainbow at Night,' &c. 2 vols. 
 
 THE FATE OF SISTER JESSICA. By F. W. Robinson, 
 
 author of 'Grandmother's Money,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 THE WINNING OF MAY. By the Author of 'Dr. Edith 
 
 Romney,' ' A Wonian at the Helm,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 KINGSMEAD. By Henry F. Buller. 3 vols. 
 
 LONDON: HURST & BLACKETT, LIMITED.
 
 BAY RONALD 
 
 BY 
 
 MAY CROMMELIN 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ' QUEENIE,' ' ORANGE LILY,' ' MISS DAISY DIMITY, 
 *IN THE WEST COUNTRIE ' ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1893. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 /6
 
 ?5 3 
 
 V.I 
 
 BAY RONALD. 
 
 3 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 .'>f^ 
 
 In glancing your eye over some of the sen- 
 ^ tences that follow, a few of you, my readers, 
 ^ may exclaim, ' 0, we Avill skij) this, it is 
 mere description,' when you will proceed 
 to plunge straight into the story of Bay 
 Ronald and his master. 
 
 Have patience : for, without some idea 
 of the sylvan beauty and time-hallowed 
 ^associations of Rookhurst, how can you un- 
 ' derstand the eager longing and covetous- 
 ,ness of the two different branches of the 
 Saxby family to gain and regain this an- 
 cestral home. Likewise take this warning 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 BAY RONALD. 
 
 to heart, that if you do defiantly skip the 
 beginning you will still most likely be 
 obliged to look back to it, in order to learn 
 Avho the skeleton in armour was when alive 
 and in the flesh. 
 
 Rookhurst has long been and still is 
 reckoned one of the finest estates in Kent, 
 lying on the borders of Sussex. That it 
 is an old family seat all county chronicles 
 show. They affirm that one Richard of 
 Saxonbury came into the parish in 1103, 
 being the third year of the reign of King 
 Henry L, and built a very fair sumptuous 
 house on the hill of Rookhurst. Walter, 
 the ninth squire, in 1473 built the moated 
 house now standing in the valley. His son, 
 the tenth squire, Philip, was by force de- 
 seized of his estate and compelled to fly into 
 sanctuary for endeavouring to conceal his 
 friend and neighbour Guii Boteler from that 
 cruel prince King Richard III. But Philip
 
 BAY KONALD. 6 
 
 was restored on the accession of Henry 
 VIT., and became sheriff of Kent. Seventeen 
 generations by male succession did the 
 family reckon. With the eighteenth the 
 estates passed to an heiress, Catherine, 
 whose marriage and after life will be 
 treated of in these pages. 
 
 Rookhurst stood in a valley of which the 
 pasture had been unbroken for centuries, 
 and through which slid a small stream that 
 fed the moat round the house with fair 
 and running water. The house lay in the 
 deepest pitch of the valley, seventy feet of 
 a slope below the hill, that was studded 
 with splendid beech and chestnut trees 
 which were planted far enough apart to 
 give their massive trunks room to throw 
 far-reaching roots under the soil and great 
 branches spreading equally wide overhead. 
 Its moat was four-square, protected by an 
 inner parapet, and now crossed by a solid 
 
 B 2
 
 4 BAY KONALD. 
 
 bridge with pierced stone-work balustrades^ 
 adorned with massive balls. Behind the 
 gravel sweep, bordered on either side hy 
 a carpet of velvet sward, the house showed 
 a fine timbered frontage having mullioned 
 wide-latticed windows and within a cheer- 
 ful and lofty wainscotted hall. 
 
 In frontlet us now imagine ourselves en- 
 joying the view which is open up the valley 
 meadows rising softly skywards, and ended 
 by a grassy hill called Traitors' Camp by 
 country folk. But the Saxbys,for reasons 
 of their own, call it Parliament Hill. All 
 around the three remaining sides of the 
 moat there are glorious trees. An oaky 
 reputed eight hundred years of age, stands 
 sentinel at one corner stretching out grey 
 leafless arms like those of some hoary sage^ 
 bearing a thick mantle of ivy on his 
 shoulders, above which his head shows still 
 young and green. Further on noble Nor-
 
 BAY RONALD. O 
 
 way pines soar high in dark green layers : 
 the breezes of upper air from the hills 
 around sway their tops often, while not 
 a breath stirs the lower branches that 
 feather in grand curves over the turf. 
 
 The back of the house and part of the 
 side-walls rise as sheer from the moat still 
 ^s did once the whole mansion. Behind, a 
 row of giant Scotch firs forms a rear-guard, 
 and to see the sunset glow warming their 
 red stems still redder is a beautiful sight. 
 All around lies a noble demesne of the 
 same land as was imparked in the days of 
 Henry L, having fine woods, rich pasture, 
 besides gardens, pleasure-grounds, and 
 ponds well stocked with fish. To sum up, 
 Rookhurst was a home worthy the love its 
 many owners ever bore it. Some Saxbys 
 fought hard in defence of its old walls ; 
 others alas ! strove as hard to gain it by 
 force or cunning.
 
 6 BAY EONALD. 
 
 Now let US take rapid glances at two 
 pictures of different ages, following each 
 other like the slides of a magic lantern. 
 Only quick glimpses ; shadows of moving 
 iififures thrown on the sheet. 
 
 Picture the first, treats of the time of the 
 Great Rebellion, or of our famous Civil 
 War and glorious Commonwealth, call it 
 as men please according as they incline to 
 the divine right of kings, or hold that all 
 free men are bound to strike for freedom. 
 At least this is a true and old epigram, 
 
 * Treason doth never prosper ; what's the reason ? 
 Why, if it prosper, none dare call it treason.' 
 
 On yonder grassy hill up Rookhurst 
 valley a force of Roundhead troops, such as 
 Sir John Gilbert would love to paint, lies 
 encamped. They are a detachment from the 
 Parliamentary Army lying not far ofi*, which 
 has been sent to sit down before the for- 
 tified manor-house of Rookhurst, then
 
 BAY RONALD. 7 
 
 owned by Sir Walter Saxby, a Royalist. 
 The army had been lying somewhat 
 idle for a few days. These troops were 
 urged to march hither by one who knew 
 the place well and had whispered the even- 
 ing before into the general's ear in secret 
 hopes of quick success and promises of a 
 rich guerdon with his hand upon it. He 
 had Ireton's word, boasted this mid- 
 night plotter, that himself, James Saxby, 
 merchant of London, Avould be placed in 
 possession of the confiscated Rookhurst 
 estates. There had been a quarrel in a 
 previous generation between two Saxbys, 
 cousins, over the inheritance. The one 
 ousted made a handsome fortune by mer- 
 chandise and handed his supposed wrongs 
 as a chief heritage to his son James. Little 
 recked jolly Sir Walter, fighting stoutly 
 behind his thick loop-holed walls — for in 
 those days all the outer portion of Rook-
 
 8 BAY RONALD. 
 
 hurst rose straight from the moat while the 
 windows mostly oi^ened for sake of safety 
 into the inner courtyard — little guessed 
 he that one of his own kin was chief ad- 
 viser of yonder attacking force, although 
 some rumour ran that James had joined 
 the Crop -ears. 
 
 For two days the beleaguering troop stay- 
 ed still, being in no hurry and thinking to 
 starve out the little household after a week 
 or two ; themselves finding good cheer in 
 the villages and farms around. Then 
 came a messenger bidding their general 
 make speed to rejoin the main body, from 
 which a Royalist regiment of cavalry 
 threatened to cut them off. The news 
 came in the midst of a night attack upon 
 the back of Rookhurst house. 
 
 ' By the Lord Harry,' swore Sir Walter, 
 ^ I could almost believe there is some one 
 out there who knows the house well. They
 
 BAY EONALD. 9 
 
 have hit our weakest spot. But who, in the 
 devil's name, can he be ?' For all the servi- 
 tors of the house, both labourers and serving- 
 men, were then inside the walls lighting loy- 
 ally for their lord. At the general's bidding 
 the attack suddenly ceased; planks and 
 scaling ladders were withdrawn. In hot 
 haste the Roundheads retreated , raising the 
 siege and their camp that night ; they sup- 
 posed they had not lost a man. 
 
 Yet one of their number was left behind 
 — in the moat ! 
 
 It was James Saxby himself, who was 
 missed some hours later on. He it was 
 who had been foremost in the fray, the ap- 
 pointed leader of a small party who Were 
 directed if possible to cross the moat. 
 Nevertheless, two soldiers, who had been 
 marked taking measures under his orders 
 shortly before ihii recall sounded, declared 
 to have seen him later safe and sound.
 
 10 BAY RONALD. 
 
 But they lied. Whether their report was 
 made in iofnorance or from cowardice was 
 never known, seeing both were cut down 
 a few hours after dawn by the pursuing 
 Royalist dragoons who engaged in a sharp 
 skirmish with the retreating force. 
 
 Thus James Saxby's fate remained un- 
 known in the family. His own branch of 
 it were stirred thereby to still deeper 
 animosity ; but, as he only left infant sons 
 behind him, the Protector apparently saw 
 no reason later to dispossess Sir Walter 
 Saxby for their benefit. The latter, having 
 contrived to make his peace with the 
 powers that were, lived to see the return of 
 the Stuarts and a carnival time for Eng- 
 land ; and in his turn handed down many 
 a bitter jest and scornful jibe against the 
 traitor cousin James who had tried to steal 
 Eookhurst and failed. So the feud grew
 
 BAY EONALD. 11 
 
 into abiding hatred between the two Sax- 
 by branches. 
 
 Now for picture the second. It is the 
 year of grace 1789 ; a century and over 
 a quarter since last we looked upon the 
 moated house of Rookhurst. See it lying 
 even more stately in appearance than of 
 old, beneath the moon shining brightly in 
 a cloudless sky. This is as it should be, 
 for almanacks and weather prophets have 
 been consulted to make sure that there 
 will be light enough to convey family 
 coaches and finely dressed and powdered 
 ladies safely along the rutted roads, while 
 younger ones ride on pillions to-night 
 behind brothers, husbands, and grooms. 
 Crowds of country folk are trooping in 
 merry groups towards the hall. These are 
 mostly attracted by a bonfire blazing 
 brightly, whence the smell of a roast ox is
 
 12 BAY KONALD. 
 
 borne in meaty fragrance to their sniffing 
 nostrils. But tlie gentlefolk arriving from 
 far and near all press westward of the 
 house to the pleasure-grounds. Here 
 stretches a double row of lofty lime-trees, 
 cut in imitation of those at Vauxhall, and 
 lit up this night by a blaze of coloured 
 lamps — vastly like a scene in an opera, so 
 vow the beaux and belles. 
 
 Twang ! twang ! sound merry fiddles. 
 The musicians are hidden in a leafy recess, 
 while rows of couples merrily foot it in a 
 country dance under the trees. These 
 three days open house has been held at 
 Rookhurst. Its heiress, Catherine Saxby, 
 the richest woman in Kent, has just married 
 handsome George Hasledene, and dis- 
 appointed the hopes of a crowd of other 
 suitors. 
 
 The bride is standing near the lime walk 
 entrance dressed in a blue train and white
 
 BAY KONALD. 13 
 
 satin front, her dark hair piled in a tower 
 of curls and puffs. She is a beautiful 
 young woman, singularly tall and slender, 
 with a small head and milk-white face 
 lighted up by the glow of her large, dark 
 eyes. To-night she looks intensely happy, 
 yet studying her features one might gues& 
 she would be given to fits of melancholy. 
 Her nature is evidently intense ; a Avoman 
 of sensibility say the difi'erent gallants who 
 have simpered and ogled in vain round 
 this beauty of Kent and even Sussex. 
 
 Foremost among her rejected admirers,. 
 Philip Saxby, descendant of the younger 
 branch, is talking to her now. None 
 would guess that his soul is sick, his veins 
 on fire with hoj)eless longing for the dream- 
 ily smiling bride, despite the bland, set 
 smile on his features. He is a personable 
 man with a good leg and as fine a coat and 
 ruffles as any there; but for looks he is not
 
 14 BAY EONALD. 
 
 to compare, as all the women agree, with 
 Hasledene. 
 
 The latter is leading the dance now, the 
 gayest, most rollicking squire of them all, 
 and the best dancer. No other man present 
 can vie with handsome Hasledene's figure 
 and looks ; for though his face, to speak 
 critically, is somewhat short and broad, this 
 is redeemed by the merriest blue eyes and 
 the most beaming smile that ever lit up a 
 countenance to mirth. 
 
 Sir William Devereux and his lady, the 
 bride's late guardians, are conversing apart 
 with some friends. Let us listen awhile. 
 
 ' Tell me. Sir William,' cried one lady of 
 quality, ' is it true that George Hasledene 
 has already run through two fortunes and 
 is noted at Crockford's as a gambler ?' 
 
 ' Madam,' replied Sir William, bowing 
 gravely, ' our friend has indeed been a 
 spendthrift, I fear : yet when a bridegroom
 
 BAY RONALD. 15 
 
 has sown his wild oats, he may become a 
 right good husbandman.' 
 
 ' True, true,' chimed in several voices. 
 ' What an air ! what spirit ! what dash ! No 
 wonder that Catherine could not resist him.' 
 
 ' Alas !' whispered Lady Devereux aside 
 to one intimate friend, Mrs. Butler, * we 
 did warn the dear girl, as it was our duty 
 to do. Sir William laid it strongly before 
 her that George Avas too fond of dicing 
 and drinking and playing hazard to make a 
 good husband in our opinion. But there ! 
 his appearance and address captivated her 
 heart.' 
 
 Sir William at the same moment offered 
 his jewelled snuff-box to the kindly rector, 
 Mr. Butler, remarking in an undertone, 
 
 ' It does not do to say all one hears except 
 to friendly ears, but I am afraid — I am 
 sorely afraid — that our bride has got an 
 extravagant husband. It clears my con-
 
 16 BAY EOXALD. 
 
 science to tell you, my clear Butler, that I 
 advised her to distrust him. He is a pro- 
 fligate, said both I and my lady ; and we 
 urged Catherine not to listen to his address- 
 es. But Hasledene promised her the most 
 superb equipage of any woman of quality 
 in England ; and the fellow is a fine horse- 
 man and a famous whip, it must be owned. 
 Besides, he has as good blood as any gentle- 
 man in the country round.' 
 
 ' He has a kind heart also, and many ami- 
 able qualities. May these thrive like good 
 wheat, and the black tares in his mind be 
 choked and disappear,' replied Mr. Butler. 
 
 This parson's benign and merciful dis- 
 position, rare in a man of much strength 
 of character and fire of feeling, for such 
 he had proved, made him greatly beloved 
 in the country around. Also he was of 
 the soil ; bred a Kentish man to the marrow 
 of his bone, being lineal descendant of that
 
 BAY RONALD. 17 
 
 Guii Boteler whom the Saxbys sheltered 
 during the Wars of the Roses. 
 
 Meanwhile, Philip was speaking to the 
 bride in words smoother than butter, 
 though his thoughts were very swords. 
 
 ' You seem lost in a dream, my dear 
 Catherine. Can you rouse from your bliss 
 and wish me good luck, as much as I de- 
 sire your happiness. I am about to be 
 married too.' 
 
 ' What ? — You !' The bride's dark eyes 
 opened wide in amazement ; so lately Philip 
 had seemed distraught with love of her- 
 self. ' Not to— not to Elizabeth Grubbe ?' 
 
 Philip smiled. His was a smile worth 
 describing, for he kept his lips always 
 tight closed the while although they 
 stretched wider to the left side of his face : 
 a peculiar trick of feature. 
 
 ' You have guessed rightly. Elizabeth 
 appears to me almost all that is good and 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 BAY RONALD. 
 
 desirable in a wife. Her excellence of 
 heart and domestic virtues have made me 
 forget my late midsummer madness.' 
 
 ' I trust you will be very happy, Philip.' 
 
 Catherine's voice faltered as she spoke 
 with inner dismay, for Elizabeth had been 
 a subject of frequent banter between Philip 
 and herself not so lono; asro. 
 
 Miss Grubbe was a colossal woman, 
 2:)asty-faced in complexion, Avith reddish hair 
 and a stolidity of person matched by that 
 of her mind. In birth she was a market- 
 town heiress, her deceased father having 
 conducted a large country business as a 
 corn-merchant. 
 
 ' I thank you warmly for your kind 
 wishes, cousin.' Philip's steely grey eyes 
 were fixed on Catherine's face, in which 
 her thoughts Avere clear to read as pebbles 
 in a brook. ' In ten years, I wonder, 
 which of us two shall have made the best
 
 BAY RONALD. 19 
 
 l)argam? You have married good looks 
 and a light purse,' (the bride stirred un- 
 easily under his gaze). ' I have chosen 
 the reverse. Yes ; in ten years' time I 
 Avonder what we shall both say ?' 
 
 Philip then went away to dance Avith 
 Miss Grubbe, whose round blue eyes had 
 been furtively watching him with some 
 jealousy. Catherine stood a minute under 
 the lime-tree alone. Her cousin's words 
 struck her as sinister. A faint warning 
 seemed lurking under Philip's sugary 
 sweetness of voice. Then the cloud clear- 
 ed from her brow. The sunlight of love 
 lit up her eyes as her handsome husband 
 came merrily to claim her hand for the 
 next dance. Could she listen to a whis- 
 per of fear in her heart this night of her 
 wedding-ball ? Truly not, for no woman 
 had been so envied in her lot as the bride 
 of the gay George Hasledene, — or Saxby as 
 
 c2
 
 20 BAY KONALD. 
 
 by right we should now call him, since 
 upon marrying an heiress he had taken his^ 
 Avife's name. Nevertheless, he was always 
 familiarly spoken of as ' handsome Hasle- 
 dene,' till the day of his death. 
 
 Herewith we may turn our eyes away 
 from this picture also.
 
 21 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 The first few years of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Saxby's married life may be passed over 
 lightly. Those were troublous times of 
 wars and rumours of wars upon the Con- 
 tinent, men's hearts failing them to think 
 what should be the end of matters in 
 France and elsewhere when disaffection 
 might easily spring up in England and 
 spread among the ignorant populace like 
 fire in dry stubble. There were fewer 
 junketings and merry gatherings in Kent 
 than before ; but at these some whispered 
 that Mrs. Saxby began to wear an anxious 
 look, while her husband grew all the more 
 jovial and would sit longer and drink
 
 22 BAY RONALD. 
 
 deeper than any one of them all, so the 
 other country squires avowed. 
 
 About a year after the ball under the 
 lime-trees, Rookhurst was once more the 
 scene of even gladder, madder rejoicings. 
 For a son and heir was born inside the 
 moated house, and George Saxby ('jolly 
 George,' master of the neighbouring fox- 
 hounds, and the most spirited blood and 
 gayest squire for miles around) ruled as 
 host with an amazing hospitality Once 
 more Rookhurst was thrown open for three 
 days to all comers, more bonfires blazed, 
 more casks of claret were on tap and 
 flowed in generous streams. All the 
 neighbours flocked to enjoy themselves, 
 and whispered aside to each other, nod- 
 ding sagely, that these flne doings would 
 make a pretty hole in the baby's fortune 
 some day. 
 
 ' To the devil with all such whining
 
 BAY RONALD. 23 
 
 spoil-sports !' Hasledene — as we will also 
 call him — -jovially exclaimed, slapping his 
 thigh, when Sir William Devereux and 
 Mr. Butler, as old friends and god-fathers 
 of the baby Richard, ventured to repeat 
 some of the neighbours' dismal presages. 
 ' Let us be jolly, say I ; let us be jolly ! By 
 George ! it would be a slight to my son 
 not to receive him with proper rejoicings 
 into this world of ours. May he never 
 have more to complain of, than that his 
 father knew how to welcome the future 
 owner of Rookhurst in a manner befitting 
 the boy's position.' 
 
 ' Well said. I agree with you,' chimed 
 in Philip Saxby, clapping Hasledene on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 His smile stretched more sideways than 
 ever, as if wishing to be on visiting terms 
 with his left ear. It was a sardonic smile, 
 mused Mr. Butler to himself. Other folk
 
 24 BAY RONALD. 
 
 had grown so used to it on Philip Saxby's 
 face, they disregarded any such possible 
 interpretation. 
 
 Presently there was a boy born also in 
 Philip Saxby's humbler household. There- 
 upon solid and liberal rejoicings followed, 
 although all done in a quiet fashion, diiFer- 
 ent to the rollicking feastings at Rookhurst. 
 
 Philip had quitted London upon his 
 marriage, and now carried on his late 
 father-in-law's business in Kent and part 
 of Sussex ; not openly, but discreetly, so 
 as to lose no income, yet to be able to mix 
 with persons of quality none the less. He 
 was a tenant of his cousin Mrs. Saxby ; 
 holding the lease of one of her farms, 
 she being lady of the manor. Forge 
 Farm, as it was called, had a picturesque 
 house attached to it, not large but form- 
 erly handsome, having been once as- 
 signed with other lands and houses to
 
 BAY RONALD. 25 
 
 Anne of Cleves by Henry VIII. as dower. 
 
 The Forge Farm baby was also named 
 Eichard, like his small cousin at Eook- 
 hurst, to the surprise of the neighbour- 
 hood. It was because of their common 
 ancestor, Richard Saxonbury, was all 
 Philip vouchsafed to explain. 
 
 As the boys grew older and began to 
 run about, there was no confusion between 
 them, however, for the little heir of Rook- 
 burst was called Dick by his proud father, 
 and Avas a handsome, sturdy child. Philip's 
 son was slighter and somewhat weakly, an 
 inheritance of constitution from his mother, 
 who, though a large woman in build, died 
 of decline soon after his birth ; and he came 
 to be called Richie. All the gossips ex- 
 pected Philip to marry again after his proper 
 term of mourning had expired. But he only 
 invited a middle-aged lady, Miss Murdoch, 
 a relation of his late wife, to take charge
 
 26 BAY RONALD. 
 
 of his household and motherless boy; and 
 there the matter ended. 
 
 The health of Mrs. Saxby of Rookhurst 
 also became delicate after the premature 
 birth and loss of a little girl. She lived 
 in some retirement for two or three years, 
 being unable to appear at neighbouring 
 dinner-parties or hunt-balls. Hasledene, 
 however, was the very soul of all these 
 gaieties. No squire for miles around 
 hunted more often in winter and rode 
 handsomer cattle ; no sportsman, it was 
 owned, shot more birds in September and 
 had better broken dogs. No neighbour 
 was more ready, when these amusements 
 failed, to ride long distances in any 
 weather and spend a ' wet night ' over 
 cards and three or four bottles apiece of 
 port : more willing for a throAv of the dice 
 or cock-hghting. When hunting was over 
 he would go up to London for Avhat he de-
 
 BAY RONALD. 27 
 
 clared, and probably meant, should be a short 
 stay. He generally drove his own phaeton 
 with relays of horses along the road, either 
 making a match of it with some boon com- 
 panion or laying heavy wagers upon 
 the time in which he Avould accomplish the 
 journey. In town, what between his light- 
 hearted temperament and the distractions 
 and temptations of Crockford's and of 
 Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and so forth, little 
 wonder that one month stretched to two or 
 three almost before he knew it. 
 
 Catherine, sitting in her lonely, hand- 
 some rooms, looking out on the moat and 
 wooded valley, was too proud to call him 
 back if he preferred these amusements to 
 her society. All the melancholy of her 
 nature was drawn out as she brooded thus 
 for hours, growing more bitter and also 
 more reserved and proud as months went 
 by. She strove to occupy herself Avith her
 
 28 BAY RONALD. 
 
 child, the cares of her household, and her 
 own health. But she was unhappy. 
 
 Hasledene Avould reproach himself in 
 lively terms on his return for having left 
 her so long to mope. 'Yet, why not?' 
 he would cry immediately afterwards in 
 his own defence, weathercock that he was. 
 ' Why ! even Philip there goes to town, 
 for all his austere face, and egad ! he is as 
 wild and wilder than I am. Come ! what 
 the deuce, Catherine! your apron-strings 
 must stretch so far sometimes. You knew 
 I was no pious stay-at-home when you 
 married me, eh ?' 
 
 ' I knew,' Catherine would give for all 
 answer, fixing her dark big eyes solemnly 
 on his face, as if many unutterable 
 thoughts were in her mind. 
 
 Then Hasledene would feel vexed with 
 himself; vexed with her; and presently, 
 when the diversions of seeing how his
 
 BAY RONALD. 29' 
 
 horses and dogs had fared in his absence, 
 and playing with his little boy failed, he 
 would feel tempted to ride over to Philip's 
 house or that of Captain Ratcliffe, a new 
 friend. And so the old life for him and 
 his wife began again. 
 
 The Captain Ratcliffe just mentioned, 
 was a new comer in the neighbourhood, 
 who had lately taken a red-brick, Queen 
 Anne house, standing on the high-road 
 about a mile from Rookhurst. This house 
 was supposed to be haunted, having been 
 empty for some years. The Laurels was 
 its rightful name, but the country folk 
 called it among themselves Smugley Farm. 
 Its new owner had been a lieutenant in 
 the Navy (his brevet rank being bestowed 
 in fun by Hasledene's set), but, owing to 
 some wounds received in action, it was 
 understood he had honourably retired to 
 enjoy what seemed to be a fair fortune.
 
 30 BAY KONALD. 
 
 Ratcliffe soon became a personage of some 
 consideration in the country, owing to his 
 agreeable manners invariably deferential 
 to women, while keen but cordial with his 
 own sex. Although a middle-aged man 
 and a sailor, he rode well to hounds, ex- 
 cept for rashness; danced as lightly as any 
 youngster; and was a beau in dress. All 
 the unmarried women in the neighbour- 
 hood set their caps at him, but they 
 watched in vain for any special signs of 
 admiration on his thin, pale features that 
 were eager in outline while impassive in 
 expression. Ratcliffe would confide to 
 Mrs. Saxby, whom he sought to win as a 
 friend, that he had no matrimonial views, 
 his alFections being entirely devoted to 
 the care and upbringing of his infant or- 
 phaned niece. 
 
 This little girl, called Lucy Jennings, 
 was the only child of his sister. She was
 
 BAY EONALD. 31 
 
 penniless, it appeared, and Captain Rat- 
 cliffe looked upon her as his adopted 
 daughter and the heiress of his considerable 
 fortune. Soon after making Mrs. Saxby's 
 acquaintance, he interested Catherine by 
 requesting leave to bring the child to be 
 shown her. From little Lucy's first visit at 
 Rookhurst dated an era of happiness for 
 Master Dick. He and his cousin Richie 
 used often to play together, for Mrs. Sax- 
 by, being a just woman, pitied the loneli- 
 ness of Philip's boy. So one day the two 
 lads, who were quarrelling together in the 
 big hall over some toys, were startled by 
 the apparition of a tiny girl, something 
 between a child-angel and a cherub, as she 
 seemed to their wondering gaze. 
 
 She was the prettiest little creature ever 
 seen, with dark eyes that had stars in 
 them, Dick thought, and a maze of curls 
 like black floss silk, cheeks as pink as rose
 
 32 BAY RONALD. 
 
 leaves, and the funniest red button of a 
 mouth. She wore a splendid black hat with 
 three feathers nodding over its crown and a 
 sprigged muslin frock showing bare arms 
 and neck, but having long skirts to the 
 ground, below which peeped out tiny red 
 satin shoes. This vision of infant loveU- 
 ness toddled up to the bigger boys and 
 gave each an impartial kiss that sealed 
 them as her vassals from that second. 
 Hasledene, who Avas standing by in the 
 hall, laughed aloud at the tiny flirt's cap- 
 tivating ways. 
 
 ' Come and kiss me now,' he cried, lift- 
 ing little Lucy, nothing loth, in his arms. 
 
 ' Are you my oonkel, too ?' asked Lucy, 
 in whose baby mind all gentlemen who 
 caressed her must be uncles, as was Captain 
 EatclifFe. 
 
 ' Of course I'll be your uncle,' gaily an- 
 nounced Hasledene, who had a fondness
 
 BAY RONALD. eS3 
 
 for children ; ' and here's your aunt Cath- 
 erine,' he went on, placing the little girl 
 in his wife's lap. 
 
 ' My auntie,' repeated Lucy, obediently. 
 Then putting her chubby arms round 
 Catherine's neck, ' Do you love me?' 
 
 ' Dear child, I will,' replied Catherine, 
 whose motherly heart vibrated at the little 
 girl's touch. 
 
 Alas ! her own lost daughter, had she 
 lived, might have been about this child's 
 age. And the poor mother's heart ached, 
 yet felt as if the pang was somewhat dulled, 
 when the small guest thereupon promptlybe- 
 stowed on her cheek a generous half-dozen 
 of kisses from some childish inexplicable 
 outburst of instinct, to which Catherine 
 replied with more than one grave, affec- 
 tionate embrace. 
 
 Thenceforth the three children spent the 
 greater part of their days together. Lucy 
 
 VOL. I. r>
 
 ?A BAY RONALD. 
 
 was too young to enter into all the boys' 
 games, but sbe could always look on ap- 
 j^rovingly. They treated her alternately 
 as their pet and imperious mistress ; were 
 rivals in dragging her go-cart ; in climb- 
 ing for the finest apples to give her ; or in 
 sailing their boats on the moat, while she 
 clapped her hands for joy. 
 
 One hot summer day a curious thing 
 befel as the boys were fishing at the back 
 of the house. Owing to the long drought, 
 the stream through the valley was almost 
 dry, and the water in the moat itself was 
 so low as never had been known within 
 the memory of Amos Bird, the oldest 
 labourer on the place. Dick throwing his 
 line of whipcord and a crooked pin baited 
 with a worm, found it caught in some 
 obstacle under water, and tugged in vain 
 without setting it free. He grew red in
 
 BAY RONALD. 35 
 
 tlie face, while Richie mocked his efforts. 
 Then both boys went close to the moat edge, 
 where, lying flat with their bodies half over 
 the brink to investigate the matter, they saw 
 to their surprise a dark big thing just under 
 water. They ran to tell Hasledene the news, 
 who, disbelieving them but having nothing 
 better to do that morning, came to see for 
 himself; then, with some curiosity, he order- 
 ed two gardeners to iish up the mysterious 
 object. 
 
 Catherine, who was hovering near the 
 spot, always careful when the boys played 
 round the moat, joined them at the same 
 time. What was their joint astonishment, 
 when a dripping suit of chain-armour was 
 presently raised by the men and laid upon 
 the bank ! Further groping in the water 
 discovered likewise an iron head-piece, from 
 which stared the eyeless sockets of a skull. 
 
 d2
 
 36 BAY RONALD. 
 
 A cry from Catherine startled her husband^ 
 who knew less than herself of the Saxby 
 family history. 
 
 'It is, it must be, the skeleton of James 
 Saxby himself. It was here he tried to 
 attack the house with Cromwell's soldiers. 
 No one ever knew his fate.' 
 
 ' Egad ! so it is. The ancestor of Philip ; 
 and Philip himself is dining here to-night,' 
 laughed Hasledene, uproariously. ' Thi& 
 is a fine joke ! See if I don't quiz Phil 
 over his Crop-ear great-grandfather. What 
 do you say, Catherine — make him angry? 
 Tut, tut ! Philip is not a man to take a 
 joke amiss. He and I are the best of 
 friends.' 
 
 That evening there was a dinner of 
 neighbouring squires held at Rookhurst. 
 Catherine did not appear, as none of her 
 women friends were invited ; the gentle- 
 men wishing to discuss sporting and other
 
 BAY RONALD. 37 
 
 matters less suited to the gentler sex than 
 to themselves. A brave show they made 
 in their blue coats with gold buttons, 
 buff waistcoats, and snowy frills. Before 
 the first course was over, Hasledene told 
 of the morning's curious event with a 
 spirit and animation that entertained the 
 whole company hugely. Philip himself 
 seemed mightily amused and even more 
 interested than the rest. His sallow face 
 turned perhaps a trifle paler, but his eyes 
 gleamed brightly. 
 
 ' Now !' cried Hasledene, when the cloth 
 was removed and the wine circled round 
 the long table, so splendidly polished it 
 reflected the silver candlesticks and lights. 
 ' Now for the last act of the play!' 
 
 The butler placed a silver dish before the 
 host, then whipped off the cover. To the 
 guests' amazement, even dismay, a grin- 
 ning skull lay before them !
 
 38 BAY KONALD. 
 
 ' Hip, hip, hurrah ! Let me introduce to the 
 company all that remains of our ancestral 
 cousin. This is the old fellow who coveted 
 Rookhurst and tried to get in by the back- 
 door, ha ! ha ! Well, here he sits as mas- 
 ter, eh ; let's give him a toast. Fill your 
 glasses, gentlemen, all.' 
 
 A roar of tipsy greeting to the skull 
 resounded from all sides in the rapping, 
 laughter, and applause that broke forth. 
 The other squires forgot that Philip Saxby 
 sitting among them was the direct descend- 
 ant of the skeleton, therefore to be pre- 
 sumed the onlooker most deeply concerned 
 in the scene. They did not notice that 
 the blood rushed in a dark crimson tide 
 to his forehead, his brows knit themselves, 
 his rolling eyeballs were inflamed. Then 
 by a violent effort he controlled himself 
 while his fingers clutched the table in an
 
 BAY RONALD. 39 
 
 iron grip. Captain Ratcliffe who sat next 
 to him had alone turned and quickly 
 studied his friend's expression. At sight 
 of Philip's face he started up and hid the 
 latter's frenzied convulsion from the gen- 
 eral view by his own body, as he bent 
 forward in deprecating appeal. 
 
 ' Gentlemen, gentlemen ! pray — pray, 
 less noise. Let us remember decency in 
 presence of this emblem of mortality. 
 Omnia vanitas is a true saying. Memento 
 mori ! shall we not respect the dead ? At 
 least empty your glasses in silence.' 
 
 It was useless to attempt to stop the 
 toast entirely, but at RatclifFe's bidding 
 they drank with mock piety on the parts 
 of some and an uncomfortable feeling in 
 the minds of others beneath their dare- 
 devil deportment. After all, they were 
 but sim23le-minded, jolly, country gentle-
 
 40 BAY RONALD. 
 
 men. Hasledene was one of the most un- 
 thinking. His merry glance now turned 
 carelessly on Philip. 
 
 ' What ! your glass not raised, man ? 
 Why, what's amiss? Surely you are not 
 offended at our jesting ? Upon my 
 honour, as a gentleman, I would never 
 willingly displease a guest. Come, Philip, 
 don't look so strange.' 
 
 The storm in Philip's mind had given 
 way to gloom. His face had become more 
 still, but with a dreadful look of sternness 
 in his steel grey eyes, though there was a 
 slight, most unusual quiver about his lips. 
 Twice Philip tried to speak before he 
 answered, 
 
 • No offence where none is intended, 
 George. Yes, I will drink to the memory 
 of him who is master here. As you say, 
 he is at home truly.' 
 
 His voice was not loud, yet it sounded
 
 BAY RONALD. 41 
 
 forced. Hasledene looked at him curi- 
 ously, bethinking himself. He made no 
 objection when shortly afterwards, under 
 cover of laughter, and talk among the 
 others, Philip slipped out of the room. 
 
 Ratcliffe shot an enquiring glance at his 
 host, who nodded. Then the peacemaker 
 stole out also. 
 
 Philip found himself standing by the 
 passage window. The gall in his heart 
 swelled almost choking him ; next, Avith a 
 sudden longing to destroy something, he 
 drove his fist twice through the lattice 
 window so that the glass fell shivering 
 around. Outside the moonlight touched 
 the water of the moat with silver patches, 
 softly illumined the valley and woods. It 
 was a fair scene indeed, and if angels still 
 walk the earth o' nights, a peaceful spectator 
 might have fancied them passing over the 
 sward. But the man behind the window
 
 42 BAY RONALD. 
 
 only glared unseeingly with devilish feel- 
 ings in his heart — covetousness, envy, a 
 great thirst for revenge. 
 
 ' Who knows, 1 may turn the tables on 
 him some day. Who knows?' 
 
 As the soundless words were hissed be- 
 tween Philip's teeth, RatclifFe's hand was 
 laid with quiet yet compelling touch upon 
 his shoulder. 
 
 'Come away with me, my friend; we 
 have both of us had enough of to-night's 
 mad foolery. I saw your face in there, 
 and guessed what must be passing in your 
 mind. The horses are being led to the door; 
 let us get away.' 
 
 Philip turned abruptly and wrung the 
 other's hand. 
 
 'You, Ratcliife ! only a new-comer 
 among us, and yet you alone stand by me. 
 I shall not forget it.'
 
 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 That famous dinner-party, at which the 
 death's head had been placed upon the 
 dinner-table at Rookhurst, was talked of 
 as a nine days' matter of gossip ; then for- 
 gotten in the countryside. 
 
 The five years which followed this event 
 passed much like their predecessors over 
 the heads of George Hasledene-Saxby and 
 his wife. Insensibly the four seasons suc- 
 ceeded each other, moons waxed and 
 waned ; country life was varied by the 
 same recurring changes and occupations 
 of harvest weather and hunting weather ; 
 springs and autumns were as fresh in
 
 44 BAY RONALD. 
 
 bursting beauty, as glorious in decay, as 
 those gone before them. 
 
 Husband and wife at Rookhurst were 
 fitill the same, yet with a difference. For, 
 as habits grow to second nature, Hasle- 
 dene was becoming stouter and redder 
 faced, insensibly coarser in tastes, and 
 alas ! more deeply in debt, even over head 
 and ears. As gradually and surely Cath- 
 erine had become an embittered woman. 
 Proud and fastidious in temperament, the 
 romance of Mrs. Saxby's brief honeymoon 
 first lost its bloom when, a fortnight after 
 marriage, her husband was served inside 
 their own grounds with writs for debt. The 
 sum was large, but she paid the amount, 
 eagerly, horrified. He had promised to 
 reform with protestations of shame and 
 gratitude. How had he kept his word? 
 Angered by his repeated lapses into ex- 
 travagance, too haughty to stoop for the
 
 BAY RONALD. 45' 
 
 sinner's good to wiles of love, she brooded 
 apart. The silent reproach in her dark 
 eyes re]3ulsed George when in fits of peni- 
 tence he vowed better conduct for the 
 future, begging, 
 
 ' Come, Catherine, let us kiss once more 
 and make friends.' 
 
 A little aifected gaiety and pleasant talk 
 might have won him at such times to stay 
 more at home, for he was growing heavy 
 in the saddle, and gouty, was fond of his 
 wife still, after a fashion, and doted on 
 little Dick. But Catherine could not dis- 
 semble. A resigned shake of the head, a 
 sadly scornful smile showed her distrust 
 of the broken reed. 
 
 Then Hasledene would fling out of 
 doors. At least, Philip Saxby and Rat- 
 cliffe were good company ; they and many 
 more of lesser kind. He had some pride, 
 too, and for two years had not asked his
 
 46 BAY KONALD. 
 
 wife for money beyond his own annual al- 
 lowance. But was this sufficient ? Ah ! 
 she wondered in her heart, for he could 
 not be always lucky at cards and wagers. 
 
 Naturally it was not in Hasledene's 
 nature to be more often the guest of his 
 friends and neighbours than their host. 
 Hospitable to excess Avhen flushed with 
 wine and good fellowship, he would invite 
 his boon companions — or others who were 
 mere drinking acquaintances — back to dine 
 the next day at Rookhurst. He knew his 
 wife would be displeased, but the words 
 had escaped his lips upon the fumes of 
 wine. It was a pity indeed to vex Cathe- 
 rine, but there ! 'twas done and he must 
 needs play the genial host. 
 
 Little Dick loved in those days to hear 
 the merry rich voices of the arriving guests. 
 How they patted his curly head when he 
 stole into the large drawing-room, that was
 
 BAY RONALD. 47 
 
 fairyland in his eyes, with its yellow satin 
 curtains and gilded furniture lit up by a 
 j)rofusion of wax candles. How sonorously 
 these fox-hunters greeted each entering 
 comrade with whoops and jolly outcries. 
 Dick looked at them admiringly, while 
 with their legs planted wide apart they 
 stood on the hearth-rug and talked to his 
 bewilderment of Boney and the French, of 
 foxes and Mr. Charles James Fox, dis- 
 cussed the doings of the Prince Regent and 
 Nelson in a delightful deep-voiced cross- 
 fire. Dick longed to follow them to the 
 dinner-table and hear more man's talk and 
 sip a little wine as he was sometimes 
 allowed to do out of his father's glass. In- 
 stead of which his footsteps pattered slowly 
 "up the oaken stairs and^ along the wain- 
 scotted corridor, to the room where his 
 sad-faced mother awaited him to say his 
 evening hymn and little prayer.
 
 48 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Dick adored yet slightly feared liis 
 mother; she was so handsome but — so 
 melancholy. On such evenings Catherine 
 would snatch him in her arms covering his 
 rosy face with kisses, bidding him promise 
 when he grew up never, ne^e^^^ to drink 
 like those gentlemen downstairs. At 
 which Dick sighed in his little heart 
 but obediently lisped ihe required ' Yes, 
 ma'am,' feeling a martyr. 
 
 One morning Dick rose very early and 
 dressed himself in haste, hoping to creep 
 out unespied. His object was a slightly 
 unlawful^ one, at least in the eyes of his 
 mother — namely, a rat hunt. Stealing 
 down the stairs on tip-toe in fear of his 
 mother's maid, he passed the open dining- 
 room door and stopped in amazement. The 
 morning light streamed through the half- 
 closed shutters upon a scene of strange 
 disorder. Three or four men's figures lay
 
 BAY RONALD. 4^ 
 
 huddled upon the ground, breathing heavily 
 like swine. Surely they could not be, and 
 yet as Dick approached on tip-toe he saw 
 they ivere^ some of his kindly friends of 
 the evening before. The table above the 
 prostrate forms was littered with empty de- 
 canters, candles burnt down to their sockets, 
 and pools of spilled wine. Dick stood and 
 stared, his blue innocent eyes and rosy 
 childish face in striking contrast to the 
 swollen faces of the sleepers who were 
 tipsily snoring. 
 
 ' I will be a gentleman ; I will not make 
 an ugly swilling hog of myself,' thought 
 the boy to himself, his gorge rising with 
 sheer disgust. ' I'll never get drunk.' And 
 stealing out of the house with a heavy 
 heart he went towards the farm stackyard. 
 He was sad all the morning, even though 
 his favourite terrier killed the most rats. 
 The hateful thought would keep coming 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 ^^ BAY RONALD. 
 
 back into his loyal little heart though often 
 repulsed, 
 
 ' Does my father ever look like one of 
 
 those T
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 IViTH the close of the century, there came 
 a seasonable Christmas that was a re- 
 markable one in general ; in particular 
 none of the Saxby family ever forgot 
 it. 
 
 Rookhurst Park was lying deep in snow 
 one night as Philip Saxby crossed its crisp 
 surface by the faint starlight. He stood a 
 moment on the moat bridge thinking, with 
 his hat pulled low over his brows, his long 
 riding-coat falling to his heels, and a muffler 
 about his neck. In appearance he was not 
 unlike a midnight robber, and indeed the 
 hour was late. n^ 
 
 E 2 
 
 II OF II I
 
 52 BAY RONALD. 
 
 A short time Philip stood thus with 
 folded arms, next he went straight towards 
 the window of Catherine's small sitting- 
 room, whence a ray of red light stole be- 
 tween the damask curtains. The watcher 
 peered in, being able to descry a portion of 
 Catherine's figure as she sat by the fire- 
 place, her head leaning on her hand. 
 
 ' Alone, brooding ; that suits my pur- 
 pose. Ah, madam, many a night you 
 have sat lonely supping sorrow since we 
 danced out yonder under the lime-trees. 
 Did I not tell you so ?' 
 
 He tapped lightly on the window-pane, 
 then as Catherine started, listening, he 
 tapped again. She was a woman of great 
 courage, and, as he had reckoned, came 
 straight forward and drew the curtain 
 aside instead of ringing for the servants 
 as one more timid might. The light fell 
 on Philip's face, and both stood looking at
 
 BAY RONALD. 53 
 
 eacli other a few moments in silence. Then 
 Catherine undid the window hasp, and 
 asked, putting out her head into the freez- 
 ing night air, 
 
 ' What's the matter ? Do not keep me 
 in suspense, Philip. Is George ' 
 
 ' He is quite well. Still there is some 
 news of him that is best only for your 
 private ear. Let me in by the side-door ; 
 it wdll be as well not to let the servants 
 know I have come to-night. They might 
 guess why.' 
 
 Catherine went softly to the side door 
 "with fears disturbing her poor proud heart, 
 yet with the worst fear that had knocked 
 there loudly a minute ago now silenced. 
 At least George was alive, was well — ^thank 
 God ! In spite of all, she still loved him ; 
 ay, better far than she ever owned to her- 
 self. Alas ! what new scrapes, what reck- 
 less tales of extravagance must she soon
 
 54 BAY KONALD. 
 
 brace herself to hear, for George had gone 
 u]) to London some three weeks ago, 
 cheerfully promising to return before 
 Christmas Day. And yet to-morrow 
 would be New Year's Eve, but he had not 
 come. This last time Catherine had really 
 counted upon his keeping his word ; and 
 it rankled sore in her mind that at Rook- 
 hurst alone, of all the neighbours' houses 
 near and far, there had been no Christmas 
 jollity save in the servants' hall. Little 
 Dick had asked with tears trembling on 
 his eyelashes, although he was ten years 
 old, 
 
 ' Will father not come back for our 
 Christmas dinner?' 
 
 Hasledene might at least have remem- 
 bered his boy, even if he left his wife in 
 solitude when every other hearth was 
 warm with good will and good cheer. 
 
 Silently she admitted Philip and brought
 
 BAY RONALD. 55 
 
 him into the sitting-room. Then, as he 
 stood before the fire brushing off some 
 flakes of snow that had fallen from the 
 heavy-laden trees upon his coat, her an- 
 xiety and eagerness burst out not unmixed 
 with irritation. 
 
 ' What is the matter, I ask you again, 
 Philip ? It concerns my husband, no 
 doubt. He is well you say, but still ' 
 
 ' But still, Catherine, I have bad news 
 for you.' 
 
 Philip spoke with a gloomy air, then 
 turned and laid his hat upon the table. 
 
 'Go on. Fresh wagers, more gambling, 
 I suppose ? Can you not speak?' 
 
 ' Yes; more extravagance,' Philip began, 
 deliberately unwinding the muffler about 
 his neck, watching with cold eyes the 
 woman who was on thorns the while, hang- 
 ing upon every word that came slowly 
 from his lips. ' My dear Catherine, I am
 
 56 BAY RONALD. 
 
 indeed sorry for you. You must summon 
 up all the courage you have left. 1 have had 
 news.^ 
 
 Feeling that he was torturing her, yet 
 uncertain from his grave voice and com- 
 passionate air whether he meant to trifle 
 with her feelings ; too proud to implore, 
 fearful to alienate possible sympathy ; 
 Catherine sat down with trembling limbs. 
 
 ' I am not good at guessing, Philip. 
 Explain yourself.' 
 
 ' My poor cousin, I hardly know how I 
 can tell you ; how you can bear the dis- 
 grace of this sad affair. I returned here 
 a week ago, as you know, from town, fully 
 supposing that George was to follow me 
 by the next coach, as he said he would do. 
 I had put it to him, myself, that it was his 
 duty as a husband not to leave you any 
 longer to be a topic of gossip among the 
 neighbours. He listened to me and
 
 BAY RONALD. 57 
 
 promised faithfully to follow. And- 
 
 ' Yes, yes. He listens to you readily 
 enough, {sotto voce — Would to heaven he 
 did not ; you have led him into more mis- 
 chief than any other friend.) Well, what 
 has kept him ?' 
 
 ' He was arrested a week ago for debt.' 
 Philip's words fell slowly one by one upon 
 the listener's ears inflicting slow torture, 
 ^ and ' 
 
 ' And — what ?' 
 
 ' And he has been lodged in Marshalsea 
 Prison, where he is at present.' 
 
 Catherine sprang to her feet like a girl, 
 her breath came and went audibly, hot 
 shame dyed her cheeks. 
 
 ' Imprisoned a week ! and you knew it, 
 you ! and did not try to release him. And 
 he never told me, his wife ; he has not 
 written.' 
 
 ' Because he was afraid. He has sent
 
 58 BAY KONALD. 
 
 word to me, his best friend, to come and 
 break the news to you ; he dared not him- 
 self, having offended you so often.' 
 
 ' But I am his wife.' 
 
 Catherine was breathing hard. What I 
 that Philip of all men should interfere 
 between herself and her husband ! He 
 play the go-between, whom she had once 
 rejected. How could George doubt her ; 
 how dared Philip be so presumptuous, so 
 insolent ? 
 
 ' I will pay all,' she gasped. ' Surely I 
 can ; I will. The estate has been hard 
 pressed, but still — quick ! tell me, what is 
 the amount ?' 
 
 'How much can you raise?' Surely 
 Philip was smiling, or that queer twist in 
 his mouth looked like it. ' Not much ready 
 money, I suppose ; but then your diamonds, 
 the family plate.' 
 
 Catherine sank down in a chair averting
 
 BAY KONALD. 59 
 
 her head. Her diamonds had been sold 
 five years ago, most of the family plate fol- 
 lowed later. Since these losses, she made 
 ill-health a convenient pretext for not ap- 
 pearing in the county without the famous 
 Saxby jewels. In truth, almost all her 
 cherished treasures were gone. 
 
 ' There are the trees,' she faltered. 
 ' The west wood might be felled.' 
 
 ' Some time next year ; meanwhile your 
 husband will have grown accustomed to 
 prison-fare. Besides felling, not the west 
 wood alone, but every tree on the estate, 
 would not set him at liberty.' 
 
 Catherine clasped her hands in despair. 
 
 ' But how much is it ? Hundreds , 
 Philip ? nay, thousands, I see. Well, I 
 must sell some of the farms, there is no 
 help for it.' 
 
 ' And where will you find a buyer ? 
 Has not this year been one of distress,
 
 60 BAY RONALD. 
 
 almost famine ? Whicli of your neighbours 
 will come to your rescue ?' 
 
 ' Oh, if Sir William Devereux were 
 alive !' Catherine raised her still beauti- 
 ful eyes in sad remembrance of that un- 
 failing friend. Then perceiving Philip's 
 glance turned upon her, with — yes, surely 
 — pity, compassion, a gleam of some 
 cousinly affection as she hoped, the poor 
 soul impulsively held out both hands in 
 beseeching appeal. ' You are rich, Philip, 
 all the world says so. You spend so little ; 
 you must have laid by so much. Oh, look 
 at me, Philip, do not turn away ; help us. 
 You are George's best friend, he often 
 says, though I, may heaven forgive me, 
 have often thought you were his worst 
 enemy. Nay ; I am not blaming you, but 
 you never helped to keep him back.' 
 
 ' Keep him back ! and why the devil 
 should I ? Listen here, Catherine ; he has
 
 BAY KONALD. 61 
 
 come to me for help in liis money troubles. 
 Otherwise he would have gone to the 
 Jews. Do you women imagine that a 
 man's nature is changed because the mar- 
 riage service is read over his head ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' I tell you I am so hard pressed my- 
 self for what Hasledene owes me, that I 
 scarce know where to tuin.' 
 
 ' Then you, sir, you^ are the cause of 
 this disgrace.' 
 
 ' I tell you no, madam ; he lies in prison 
 at another man's suit. Did I not say I 
 urged him to come home.' 
 
 ' Forgive me, Philip. My tongue was 
 always quick, as you know. But stilly 
 still — can you not help us ?' 
 
 ' I have my son's future to think of.' 
 
 Philip stood knitting his brows. 
 
 ' But how will Richie be injured ? You 
 can have, oh heavens, to think of it ! you
 
 62 BAY RONALD. 
 
 can have a mortgage for the whole amount. 
 How much — how much ?' 
 
 ' Over sixty thousand,' said Philip, low 
 but distinctly. 
 
 A moan of dismay came from. Catherine's 
 lips. She turned white as a sheet, staring 
 almost vacantly at her cousin. Was 
 Philip smiling ? Impossible ! But when 
 his protruding under jaw was firm set, and 
 his lips closed tight, a sort of unmirthful 
 smile seemed to sit upon his features. 
 Hailing a glimmer of disbelief in her mind, 
 the poor soul gasped, 
 
 ' Sir, you are joking. Surely it cannot 
 be so much. How could he have spent 
 it?' 
 
 ' One lost game of cards alone cost your 
 husband ten thousand, some three years 
 ago, madam, I grieve to say. Then fol- 
 lowed heavy interest, with interest piled 
 again upon that unpaid interest : besides
 
 BAY RONALD. 63 
 
 other debts. So it lias grown like a cancer.' 
 
 ' What ! and you knew this all the time, 
 and kept it secret from me.' 
 
 Catherine rocked herself to and fro, 
 not daring to utter the extreme bitterness 
 of her thoughts, lest she might turn 
 Philip from a possible friend into an open 
 enemy. 
 
 ' Would you have me betray husband 
 to wife ?' asked Philip, with brutal frank- 
 ness. 'It is a matter of common gossip 
 that he has been afraid to go to you for 
 help, therefore I myself have been over- 
 persuaded to assist him as regarded his 
 debts of honour.' 
 
 Catherine clasped her hand to her heart 
 at the thrust, answering nothing. She 
 heard Philip's voice above her in more 
 softening tones. 
 
 ' Come ; be sensible, Catherine, be calm. 
 I will help you, but it must not be by
 
 64 BAY RONALD. 
 
 beggaring myself; that you would hardly 
 expect.' 
 
 She dropped forward on the ground, not 
 so much kneeling to him as sitting there 
 according to human nature, because of 
 grief. Clasping her hands, she raised her 
 red eyelids Avith a world of beseeching 
 appeal in one dark glance. 
 
 ' You will take the mortgage then, 
 Philip — since that must come to pass.' 
 
 ' Not a mortgage, Catherine, in lieu of 
 my good money. For sixty thousand 
 pounds you must sign me over Kookhurst.' 
 
 ' What!' The outcry was a scream. 
 Catherine sprang to her feet hard breath- 
 ing, and the tAvo foes glared at each other. 
 ' Never ! I will die first.' 
 
 Philip sneered. 
 
 ' My security was not worth much, as I 
 told Hasledene. Cheer up, madam, you 
 are not likely to die ; your husband may
 
 BAY EONALD. Q5 
 
 — of gaol fever. Well, well, it may be no 
 great loss seeing your love for him has 
 died before, and you can still keep your 
 place and your pride as a wid ' 
 
 ' 'Tis a lie. I do love him ! I love him 
 still, I tell you. I prefer George Hasle- 
 dene with all his faults, ay, sins, against 
 me, to you. If you think that I repent mar- 
 rying him, understand that I do not .... 
 Oh, I will free him, my poor George, my 
 dearest love, some way, some other way.' 
 
 ' As you please, madam.' 
 
 Philip Saxby sat down in a chair and 
 crossed his legs. Catherine held her 
 bursting head between her hands. She 
 had sunk down on a settee as the ground 
 seemed to go from beneath her feet. 
 
 The long pause that followed was like 
 one in a deadly fight, when two adversaries 
 take breath and collect their strength for a 
 fresh attack. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 ^G BAY KONALD. 
 
 Then Philip spoke first. 
 
 ' Have you thought of some other way, 
 Mrs. Saxby?' 
 
 Catherine raised her head and relieved 
 her passionate heart by violent upbraidings. 
 
 ' Oh, traitor ! Judas ! smiling hypocrite 
 that you have been ! creeping into our 
 house as the devil did into Paradise when 
 he took the form of a serpent. You have 
 plotted, and planned, and waited your time 
 from the beginning. But it shall not avail 
 you. I will never do this unless compelled 
 by force ; but if I do! — the curse of an in- 
 jured wife and of a sorrowing mother shall 
 fall upon you and yours.' 
 
 ' I accept that if I get Rookhurst,' was 
 Philip's unmoved answer ; and he rose to 
 go. 
 
 At that Catherine's mood changed. 
 Once more she tried to soften her cousin's 
 hard heart by entreaties, beseechings.
 
 BAY EONALD. 67 
 
 Her fury was spent and slie felt weak as 
 if her blood had turned to water. 
 
 ' You loved me once, Philip.' 
 
 ' Yes, and you spurned me. You made 
 your bed, my dear coz, and you have found 
 -it hard to lie on.' 
 
 ' Would you drive us from our home, 
 then? make me, and my husband, and 
 child penniless ? And why ? because of 
 a girl's fancy some years ago.' 
 
 ' Xo, because of a strong man's love ; 
 and of what is sweeter still, a man's re- 
 Tenge. As sure as there is a light in the 
 sky!' the speaker raised his hand towards 
 heaven, ' so surely Rookhurst has be- 
 longed to my branch of the family since 
 we were dispossessed. But I will be just. 
 You can have my home as it at present 
 stands, and be my tenant as I have been 
 yours. That is fair.' With that Philip strode 
 towards the door; but there turned and 
 
 F 2
 
 68 BAY EONALD. 
 
 added, ' Think over this. To-night, I 
 will press you no more, but to-morrow, 
 at midday, I will come for my answer. 
 At midday, remember.' 
 
 As he closed the side door behind him, 
 Philip stepped out into utter darkness. 
 There was no light in the sky ; not a star. 
 
 He shivered, drew his muffler higher, and 
 started homewards with only a glimmer 
 from the snow to guide him. But he went 
 by the high-road this time ; it ran through 
 two villages, which Avas more cheerful so 
 late at night than the loneliness of the 
 park.
 
 69 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 At twelve o'clock sharp the next day Philip 
 rode up to Rookhurst door. 
 
 He was received by Mrs. Saxby in the 
 breakfast-parlour, where Mr. Butler stood 
 beside her chair. Early that morning he 
 had been sent for in haste as the only 
 trusted friend and counsellor to whom the 
 unhappy lady could appeal in her distress. 
 They had spent the morning together in 
 anxious and hasty consultation ; but when 
 Philip saw both their faces he knew the 
 result and laughed in his heart. The game 
 was his. 
 
 Catherine all through the night had kept
 
 70 BAY RONALD. 
 
 walking up and down the great hall wring- 
 ing her hands and urging her tired brain to 
 fresh efforts of useless thought till the lamp 
 burned out as the cold, grey light of dawn 
 stole in at the windows with sickly glimmer. 
 She had not even changed the dress she 
 wore the night before, and her drawn face 
 was as white as her muslin tucker. But she 
 rose with a grave curtsey when her enemy 
 entered ; with as unflinching spirit she 
 bowed to him again when he left — her 
 future landlord. 
 
 Nevermore would Catherine Saxby beg 
 or pray favour while her life lasted. That 
 vow she made in her heart. 
 
 Not many days afterwards, the snow 
 lay yet deeper, in great drifts in many 
 places, for there had been a storm of un- 
 exampled severity during three days past. 
 And one afternoon a strange equipage 
 stood waiting at Rookhurst, on the outer
 
 BAY RONALD. 71 
 
 side of the moat. This was a team of six 
 splendid black oxen, that were attached 
 to a great sleigh (or tug). 
 
 It was the custom of the Saxby family, 
 handed down time out of mind, that a 
 herd of eight such oxen should never fail 
 at Rookhurst. It was a survival, maybe, 
 from olden days when highways being very 
 quagmires often, or else mere rough tracks 
 in other places, Queens themselves made 
 royal journeys in their great oxen car- 
 riages. The roads about Rookhurst being 
 miry, these oxen were still most useful to 
 draw heavy loads, while in winter time if 
 wood and faggots needed to be brought 
 from the damp valley woods, where carts 
 sank axle-deep so that no horse could stir 
 them, the oxen needed but a touch of the 
 goad, and, moving slowly forward, lo ! 
 they drew all the weight behind them as 
 if it were but child's play.
 
 72 BAY RONALD. 
 
 This day Catherine Sax by and her little 
 son were taking their departure from their 
 old home. It had all been done quickly, 
 secretly. Quickly, for George Hasledene's 
 sake, living in prison behind grim walls 
 yonder, where strong men often died from 
 the terrible atmosphere of disease and 
 gaol fever. Secretly, because Catherine's 
 proud heart could not endure that all the 
 country-side should know what was hap- 
 pening. This very day she was leaving 
 Rookhurst for Forge Farm, Philip's late 
 home. And all the personal goods and 
 chattels she and her child could claim 
 were to be drawn thither by the oxen. 
 
 No coach and horses, no carts even, 
 might hope to pass the drifts along the 
 road. The London mail had ceased run- 
 ning ; traffic throughout the country was 
 suspended. Old Amos Bird stood at the 
 head of his team, goad in hand ; he wore
 
 BAY RONALD. 73 
 
 his Sunday hat and best smock-frock in 
 honour of Mistress Saxby. Man and boy 
 he had been about the place for eight-and- 
 sixty years minding the oxen. The great 
 beasts had been his children in successive 
 generations, and he loved them, said 
 malicious neighbours, more than human 
 beings, ay, than his own flesh and blood. 
 
 When Catherine came out of her home 
 for the last time she passed in the hall 
 through a double line of weeping servants, 
 who bade her farewell with blessings and 
 sobs. Her face quivered but still she did 
 not weep, for her eyes felt like hot coals 
 in her head, and her brain seemed on fire. 
 She thanked them all in a few words, that 
 only faltered a little ; then she told Amos 
 Bird to go forward, and took little Dick's 
 hand in her own. 
 
 As the long team of black oxen toiled up 
 the hill-slope in strong relief upon the spot-
 
 i 4 BAY RONALD. 
 
 less white ground, and under the big trees 
 that were powdered with snow, even to 
 their smallest twigs sparkling with hoar- 
 frost, it was a scene that impressed itself 
 long upon all those who saw it. Behind the 
 sleigh walked Catherine Saxby, tall and 
 stern. Dick trudged by her side holding her 
 cold hand in his own warm chubby fist. 
 Now and ao^ain he dashed the tears from 
 
 o 
 
 his eyes with one woollen glove, saying to 
 himself stoutly in his heart, 
 
 ' I must be a man. I must grow up quick 
 and be a man, to comfort my mother and 
 to work for her.' 
 
 So they passed through the village ^ 
 where not a door but stood open with 
 people bowing and curtseying on every 
 threshold, murmuring words of pity and 
 lamentation. It was strangely like a 
 funeral. Awhile later, as they went along 
 the high-road. Captain Ratcliffe stood at his-
 
 BAY RONALD. 75 
 
 own gate awaiting them with little Lucy. 
 
 The road at this part was slippery, and 
 as the oxen toiled up a slight rise the 
 leader slipped and fell, stopping the team. 
 The great beast lay inert, unable to rise, 
 though prodded by exhortations of Amos's 
 goad. Katcliffe hastily called for some 
 men to help, and came himself. Then he 
 saw it was of no avail. 
 
 ' Come indoors, dear madam, come with 
 me,' he whispered, taking Catherine's hand 
 with gallantry and 23lacing it within his arm. 
 ' The poor bullock's leg is broken, it cannot 
 go further. Do not pain yourself by stand- 
 ing here. It must be killed.' 
 
 Mistress Saxby looked down at the pros- 
 trate giant with a curious expression on her 
 sad face. 
 
 ' Am I bewitched that even this poor 
 animal suffers because of me ?' she said^ 
 harshly. 'Yes, let it be put out of misery.
 
 76 BAY RONALD. 
 
 / should give its flesh to the poor in this 
 time of distress were it mine. Philip, I 
 have no doubt, will sell its carcase for what 
 it maybe worth.' Then, looking up in Rat- 
 clifl'e's face with a tired smile, ' Shall I have 
 to pay him its value, I wonder?' 
 
 ' No, no,' and Ratcliife rapped out a big 
 oath, as was the custom in those days. ' I 
 vow that you shall not do, I will rather 
 pay it myself. The accident has happened 
 at my door, I am to blame because the 
 road was so dangerous.' 
 
 Ratclifi'e pulled out his silk-handkerchief 
 as he spoke, and mopped his eyes, for the 
 tears were really running down his face 
 as he led Catherine into the house. 
 
 ' Look at old Turn-coat, see him snivel- 
 ling,' muttered Amos Bird, to another 
 Rookhurst labourer that accompanied him. 
 
 ' Ay,' said the latter, ' he'll take her 
 part to-day, and that of Philip Saxby
 
 BAY EOXALD. 77 
 
 to-morrow ; he knows on which side his 
 bread is buttered.' 
 
 So these tAvo grumbled to each other, 
 but out of hearing of RatclifFe's own men. 
 The latter were looked on with some sus- 
 picion in the neighbourhood, for they were 
 not of the country-side but from the coast. 
 Among them w^ere some seafaring men who 
 had followed their master's fortunes, and 
 whose hackles would rise like angry dogs, 
 if the captain was spoken of lightly. 
 
 Inside Ratcliffe's parlour, when Mrs. 
 Saxby was sat down, little Lucy threw her 
 arms around her auntie's neck. The child 
 hugged her tightly with warm clinging 
 kisses, leaving tears on Catherine's cold face 
 that had not come from the latter s dry eyes. 
 Ratcliffe drew out his own handkerchief 
 again, and patted Dick on the head. 
 
 There was a tray laid out awaiting the 
 guests, with cake and steaming hot elder-
 
 78 BAY RONALD. 
 
 berry wine. Ratcliffe ladled out frothing 
 glasses, and pressed the hot, dark liquid 
 upon his guests, to keep the cold of the 
 snow from striking into them. He handed 
 round cake also, but Dick had such a 
 lump in his throat he could not swallow 
 a morsel, although Lucy stood with her 
 arm round his neck uro^ins: him in whis- 
 pers 'just to try a little bit.' 
 
 Hardly a word passed between the 
 elders in the Laurels' parlour. Only Rat- 
 cliffe still sighed deeply at times, for in 
 real truth the man was grieved. 
 
 When Catherine rose, all being ready 
 for them to continue their journey, she not 
 only curtseyed, but gave him her hand 
 with warmth. 
 
 ' I thank you for your kindness, and the 
 feeling of sensibility you have shown to 
 me and mine,' she said, with grave dig- 
 nity. ' When the heart is sore, it is a con-
 
 BAY RONALD. 79 
 
 solation to know that another gives us 
 sympathy.' 
 
 ' Madam,' replied Ratcliffe, bowing as 
 he raised her hand with a courtly air to 
 his lips, ' my heart aches for you.' There- 
 npon, judging fewest words were best as 
 the matter was past mending, he gave 
 Catherine once more his arm and led her 
 out beyond his own gates. 
 
 There by the road-side lay a dark, hud- 
 dled mass of great weight, that had needed 
 many men and ropes to drag it out of the 
 snow-track. So, snorting and pushing to 
 one side, the remaining oxen moved slowly 
 forward, and once more the little proces- 
 sion went on its journey. 
 
 Ratcliffe stood between the square brick 
 gate-posts, topped by stone balls, looking 
 long after them. His hands were crossed 
 behind his back, holding a riding switch, 
 as he softly communed with himself.
 
 80 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' A fine figure of a Avoman ; amazingly 
 fine ! Ton my honour, I am more sorry 
 than I could have thought. (What a weak, 
 soft-hearted fellow you are after all !)' 
 This to his other self with which he often 
 held much confidential intercourse, for he 
 had two men's minds inside him, as so 
 many of us have, and they argued, blamed, 
 commended each other, sometimes fought. 
 ' Well, any idiot might have foreseen the 
 end, and yet hardly one of the many 
 blockheads who were Hasledene's friends 
 but will be vastly surprised. Here is ales- 
 son truly that a pinch of brains is worth 
 a pound of mere body to a man. 'Tis the 
 contrary with women. Their hearts play 
 the mischief with them. How often the 
 women of good sense otherwise make the 
 worst matches. If my Lucy only groAvs 
 up a pretty fool and is properly self- 
 ish, her fortune is assured.' Then his
 
 BAY KONALD. 81 
 
 glance turned up the road, thougli he 
 never changed his position. ' Yes, Philip 
 Saxby, you have played your game well. 
 But remember the old adage, my friend, 
 how the cat pulled the chestnuts out of 
 the fire at the monkey's bidding. The 
 man generally wins in the end who can 
 keep the coolest head and has fewest pas- 
 sions. Now you have too many for all 
 your sallow face and your tight-shut oys- 
 ter-shell of a mouth ; I— heaven be praised I 
 — have none.' 
 
 With what any passer-by might have 
 taken for a pious smile, he began flicking 
 his high boots in time to a soundless 
 whistle. 
 
 A keen, foxey-faced man was Captain 
 RatclifFe, although that benign smile still 
 lay on his face like sunshine on a rock. A 
 smart-looking figure too, with his beaver 
 hat set rakishly on his reddish hair, fading 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 BAY RONALD. 
 
 into grey. His well-cut, long, brown coat 
 and drab waistcoat, adorned by a bunch of 
 massive gold seals dangling from his 
 watch-pocket, were in the newest style ; 
 for did he not set the fashion to all the 
 young men in a dozen parishes round. 
 
 ' Captain Rat is up to some devilment,' 
 whispered a stable-helper who was passing 
 by to a groom. 
 
 Ratcliffe was proud of his stables and 
 kept a good many men in them, 
 
 ' The snow is too deep,' grumbled the 
 groom, ' the horses can't be taken out ; 
 there'll be no work till a thaw. Then 
 there'll be the hunting, too^ oh, Lord.' 
 
 As if in answer to the men's unheard 
 whisper, Ratcliffe murmured to himself, 
 
 ' Those oxen are useful to a certainty. I 
 must see to it ; especially in such weather 
 as this.' 
 
 Out ran little Lucy from the house-door
 
 BAY KONALD. 83 
 
 just then; face glowing, black curls tossed 
 about her head. 
 
 ' Uncle, I had to come out, I wanted so 
 to see them again. Oh, that's Dick still; 
 yes, there he is.' 
 
 ' Bless my heart, child! come indoors this 
 minute, you'll catch your death of cold.' 
 
 Seizing his small niece, Ratcliife swung 
 her on his shoulder and carried her into 
 the parlour, where he set her down before 
 the high grate blazing warmly. Then he 
 put his hand under her chin and turned 
 the child's face towards him. 
 
 ' Who is kind to you, my pretty ? Who 
 keeps you safe and warm, eh?' 
 
 ' Why you. Uncle Pierce, of course. 
 What a question !' 
 
 And the little girl pouted engagingly, 
 as if indignant at such needless catechism. 
 
 RatclifFe sighed, then patted her curly 
 head. 
 
 g2
 
 84 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' True. At least no one can say I have- 
 not brought you up properly, my poor 
 sister's child.' 
 
 He drew forward a chair to the fire and 
 lifted Lucy on his knee. So they two sat 
 snug in the parlour. 
 
 Meanwhile, the oxen plodded slowly 
 forward for twenty minutes, then passing 
 through some scattered houses of a ham- 
 let they presently stopped. On the other 
 side of the road there was an old wall, 
 bulging in places, in which was set an 
 arched door, approached by some uneven 
 stone steps, worn hollow by the tread of 
 many feet through centuries. 
 
 Catherine came forward, saying in a 
 low voice, 
 
 ' Here we are, Dick, this must be home 
 now.' 
 
 Dick dug his unengaged fist surrepti- 
 tiously into his eye. He had liked his
 
 BAY EONALD. 85 
 
 Cousin Richie's house well enough in 
 summer-time ; it had even great advan- 
 tages in some matters relating to orchard 
 robbing and such-like delights, but half- 
 :smothered in snow it looked cheerless and 
 mean compared with Rookhurst. 
 
 Amos Bird stopped their way, his old 
 iigure grievously bent with rheumatism, 
 though his cheeks were still ruddy as 
 russet pippins. He took oiF his Sunday 
 hat with his best bow. 
 
 ' Madam Saxby, may I make bold to 
 ask what has lain heavy on my mind 
 since the bad news was told two days 
 ago. Are those oxen yours or Az^.?' jerking 
 his thumb over his shoulder. ' Who's to 
 he master yonder?' 
 
 ' They are his, Amos. Of what use are 
 oxen now to me ?' 
 
 * Then asking your pardon, dear mis- 
 tress, may I stay on with the beasts ? I
 
 86 BAY EONALD. 
 
 am your servant in lieart, ay, and soul^ 
 but the body of me had better bide with 
 them. They will not take kindly to a 
 stranger, any more than my old bones to^ 
 new^ work.' 
 
 Catherine was deeply touched, her voice- 
 faltered as she said kindly, 
 
 ' Yes, Amos, stay and be as faithful to 
 your new master as you have been to 
 me.' 
 
 Amos gave a grunt. 
 
 ' No man can serve two masters, so I've 
 heard Parson Butler read out of the 
 blessed Book ; and Master Dick here is 
 my master, and you my mistress, as your 
 father and grandfather before you were 
 those I looked up to. Oh, ay; still I'll 
 stay for the beasts' sake.' 
 
 Dick would not let go his mother's 
 hand which his own right one still held 
 tightly for her comfort, but he thrust his
 
 BAY KONALD. 87 
 
 left one into Amos's paw with eager boyish 
 impulse. At that moment he loved old 
 Amos, he loved the oxen each and all. 
 His hot little heart was bursting with pain 
 as he took leave of these, that belonged 
 still to his beloved Rookhurst, that would 
 have the happiness of going back there. 
 
 Then he and Catherine passed through 
 the door into a strip of garden, where only 
 some topmost rose-twigs appeared above 
 mounds of snow. Firelight twinkled cheer- 
 ily through the broad window, somewhat 
 low but picturesquely latticed. Together 
 they two entered the little house and step- 
 ped up into the living-room on the right. 
 
 The house, even in its best days, had 
 not been considered worthy of a separate 
 withdrawing-room. Its single parlour took 
 up the whole depth of the house, having 
 windows looking both to the back and to 
 the front. Three steps led up to a kind of
 
 88 BAY RONALD. 
 
 dais, partitioned from the lower end by a 
 heavy oaken balustrade. On the one side 
 of the living-room below was a deep 
 chimney-place, having seats in its ingle 
 nooks and tiny windows above these giving 
 a peep of the garden. The room was hand- 
 somely furnished with heavy oaken chairs 
 and a long carved table, for Philip Saxby 
 loved comfort with an air of solidity in 
 his surroundings, though not luxury. 
 
 The few servants who still stayed by 
 their mistress in her fallen fortunes had 
 piled blazing logs on the hearth to give the 
 room a cheerful air; now they discreetly 
 withdrew, leaving mother and son alone. 
 
 Catherine stood still as a statue, her 
 black eyes staring into dark places of 
 futurity. Little Dick felt he could not 
 bear it. His warm nature, expansive like 
 that of his father, needed assurances of 
 affection, required to give and take caresses,
 
 BAY RONALD. 89 
 
 while his mother sealed up all with which 
 her sore heart was brimming, except at 
 rarest moments when the flood-gates burst 
 open. He clasped his arms round Cathe- 
 rine tight, hid his curly head on her breast. 
 
 ' Mother, mother, don't look so ! You'll 
 have me always, and when I grow up to 
 be a man I'll work hard and get back Rook- 
 hurst for you, you will see,' he sobbed. 
 ^Indeed I will!' 
 
 ' My son ; my poor dispossessed boy.' 
 
 Catherine's heart melted ; she put her 
 arms about the little lad, kissed his flashed 
 forehead, and mourned over him. 
 
 Dick was relieved. If only his mother 
 would more often show that she loved 
 Mm ! for at moments the poor little fellow 
 was so awed by her grave presence that, 
 like his father, he too misdoubted Mrs. 
 Saxby's real feelings. Yet he loved her 
 none the less.
 
 90 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 For several days, as has been said, the 
 mail-coach to London could not run on ac- 
 count of the snow. Only once the mails 
 had been got through with great difficulty, 
 containing among other letters one to 
 George Hasledene Saxby, Esquire, directed 
 to the care of his London lawyer. It an- 
 nounced in brief words from his wife that 
 he might expect soon to be set at liberty, and 
 that he would be a cleared man, although 
 at terrible cost. She had not the heart to 
 tell him more, for he might brood over it 
 in prison. Hers being the stronger nature 
 spared the man's weaker one, and in the
 
 BAY RONALD. 91 
 
 agony of her own deep soul Catherine 
 believed his light and convivial mind would 
 suiFer like anguish. 
 
 A week after the new inmates had taken 
 up their abode at Forge Farm, there came 
 a thaw, followed by a brisk wind and 
 bright sunshine, so the roads were clear 
 again. Then, to Dick's intense delight^ 
 the mail-coach drew up at their own door, 
 for he and his mother were actually going 
 to London. 
 
 'Take me with you, mother?' the boy 
 had begged, his cheeks crimsoning at the 
 audacity of the request. ' You will want 
 me to take care of you, you know, for I 
 heard Mr. Butler say that it was a trying 
 journey for you to go all by yourself. Please, 
 ma'am — ' he added, after the deferential 
 fashion of children in those days. ' Indeed 
 I am growing nearly a man now.' 
 
 Catherine hesitated within herself, but
 
 '92 BAY RONALD. 
 
 then replied kindly yet with a touch of 
 l^itterness, 
 
 ' Yes, I will take you to London.' 
 
 ' And I shall see father !' The words es- 
 caped in a cry of joy. Poor Dick, who 
 adored his father, knew the latter was in 
 some terrible disgrace, and had not dared 
 till now to ask after him. 
 
 ' Yes, you shall. May it be a lesson to 
 you, my unhappy son. We are going to 
 "bring your father home.' 
 
 If the journey to London was a lesson, 
 Dick hugely enjoyed it. Li spite of his 
 mother's grave looks, he was bursting with 
 pleasure as they bowled along. What a 
 boon to sit between the coachman and 
 another passenger on the box-seat itself 
 because of his roguish and winning face, 
 and his name and story ; besides, he took 
 "up so little room. What delight to see the 
 four handsome horses tossing their heads
 
 BAY KONALD. 93" 
 
 and going at a spanking pace, their glossy 
 coats gleaming like satin ; then to feel the 
 keen air sting his cheeks and hear the 
 guard sound his jolly horn. It was ex- 
 hilarating indeed ; never had Dickie tasted 
 the like happiness before, it went to his 
 head like wine. 
 
 All the details of that day's journey were 
 equally delightful. The change of horses 
 at the various stopping-places, when Dick 
 would get down like a man, stamping on 
 the ground to warm his toes, and then 
 being led in by the guard or the coach- 
 man himself, and treated to half a glass of 
 ' summat 'ot ' to warm the cockles of his 
 little heart. He was quite sorry when by 
 afternoon they reached London, though its 
 roar, hurrying crowds, and unceasing traffic 
 roused him from incipient sleepiness, be- 
 wildered him with new impressions. 
 
 They stayed that night at a quiet inn
 
 94 BAY RONALD. 
 
 not far from the neighbourhood of Fleet 
 Street, to which they were conducted by 
 a ' lawyer -gentleman,' so Dick understood 
 his calling. He met them when the coach 
 stopped and shook hands with Dick's 
 mother in a grave and pitying fashion. 
 They dined with this personage in a sort of 
 horse-box, in Dick's opinion, of which 
 several lined the inn parlour, and the 
 elders alluded in guarded terms over the 
 boy's head to matters of business, of which 
 he could not catch the drift. 
 
 ' Well, and what do you think of London, 
 litlle man ?' asked the ' lawyer-gentleman ' 
 with condescension. 
 
 Dick tried to look big, and stoutly an- 
 swered, ' It seems a very stuffy place, 
 vsir ; there is no fresh air in this room, and 
 the tables and floors are not sufficiently 
 clean. 1 don't think much of London. I 
 like the country better.'
 
 BAY RONALD. 95 
 
 ' Ah, if only his father had thought the 
 same,' murmured Catherine, with that 
 mournful smile the child wished would not 
 come so often on his mother's careworn 
 but still beautiful face. 
 
 Catherine, although a country belle, had 
 merely seen part of one London season 
 in dutiful attendance upon her guardian, 
 Lady Devereux. The latter country dame 
 had only persuaded her spouse to come up 
 to town on their ward's account. Both Sir 
 William and his lady held Ranelagh, Vaux- 
 hall, and all such places of entertainment 
 unsuitable for a young girl like Catherine, 
 so their diversions were limited to a few 
 operas and drums, where her ladyship's 
 countrified attire provoked malicious or in- 
 dulgent smiles. But George Hasledene was 
 always reckoned a town dandy ; one of the 
 chosen circle of which the First Gentle- 
 man in Europe was the central sun. His
 
 96 BAY RONALD. 
 
 wife knew nauglit of what London meant 
 to him. 
 
 Morning dawned through an atmosphere 
 of pea-soup fog upon London-town. While 
 it was still early and raw, Catherine and 
 her son drove in a hackney coach through 
 narrow, uninviting streets, till they reach- 
 ed a large and gloomy-looking building 
 inside a yard with great open gates. Here 
 the friendly lawyer, who still accompanied 
 them, helped Mrs. Saxby to alight, and 
 they went down a side passage. There 
 was a creaking of bolts withdrawn, a jin- 
 gling of heavy keys. Then they were 
 admitted into a lodge, out by another 
 locked door, and so followed a turnkey 
 through stone-flagged cheerless passages, 
 and past a gravelled yard. Here some 
 men were walking up and down for exer- 
 cise, their heads dropped disconsolately 
 on their breasts and nothinc: brisk about
 
 BAY RONALD. 97 
 
 them but their gait, forced to that by the 
 nipping morning air. 
 
 The place did not frighten Dick as a 
 prison. But even dungeons and rattling 
 chains Avould have seemed more heroic 
 than the gloomy squalor of the rooms of 
 which he caught glimpses beyond half-open 
 doors. 
 
 * You will hardly care to climb upstairs, 
 ma'am, to the — hem — apartment which 
 your husband has been occupying,' said 
 Mrs. Saxby's family friend and legal 
 adviser ; his eyes turning involuntarily 
 towards a mean upper window looking on 
 a spiked, sooty, prison-wall. 'But if you 
 will come this way into a common-room 
 they have, he may be already awaiting 
 us.' 
 
 And this proved to be the case, for the 
 debtor wished to spare his wife's natur- 
 ally fastidious susceptibilities, which the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 BAY RONALD. 
 
 sight of his late lodging might have 
 offended. 
 
 Hasledene expected their coming, so he 
 was clean-shaven and fairly well-dressed, 
 in contrast to those around him. Hus- 
 hand and wife gave each other a quiet 
 hand-clasp, followed by a deprecating kiss 
 laid by the unhappy man on his wife's 
 cheek. She, conscious of the strangers 
 around, some of whom were watching the 
 meeting with curiosity, paled a little, then 
 from very stress of emotion drew down 
 her veil. 
 
 Hasledene's downcast eyes fell on Dick's 
 round face brimming with awed sympathy, 
 ' My boy ! my boy !' and sitting down he 
 drew Dick between his knees and hugged 
 him. The others stood by silent. 
 
 Dick's heart felt like a bird set free ; 
 he had his father again, his own handsome,
 
 BAY EONALD. 99 
 
 jolly, loving father. He forgot tlie loss 
 of Rookhurst in his happiness. 
 
 ' Father, what has become of ' he 
 
 whispered suddenly, perceiving that Hasle- 
 dene's handsome gold watch and seals no 
 longer adorned his person. 
 
 His mother hastily stopped the prattler's 
 mouth with her hand. 
 
 ' It is time to come now, George. We 
 must not lose the coach.' 
 
 There were so many noises in the 
 streets through which they were driving, 
 and the windows of the hackney carriage 
 rattled so loudly, that hardly a word 
 could well be exchanged between Cath- 
 erine and her husband. He sat with 
 hanging head. 
 
 ' I will tell him later,' thought the poor 
 wife to herself. 
 
 They Avere somewhat late on reaching 
 the inn. All was bustle and confusion. 
 
 h2
 
 100 BAY KONALD. 
 
 ' Take your seats,' cried the guard, when 
 for a moment Catherine tried to draw 
 Hasledene aside. Then — once packed with 
 six other ]3^ssengers inside the stuffy, 
 swaying vehicle — it was impossible to hold 
 any conversation without being overheard 
 by the rest. No more unfitting time or 
 place could there be for breaking news 
 of a personal and almost sacredly private 
 nature. 
 
 So the long day wore on, until as the 
 afternoon waned ihe coach drew up once 
 more at the farm-house door. 
 
 ' Let us get out, dear,' said Catherine Sax- 
 by to her husband, setting the example. 
 
 He had seemed asleep, with his hat 
 pulled over his brow. Now he followed 
 her obediently, but with a distraught look. 
 Dick and their luggage Avere handed down 
 from the top, by the guard, and the Rocket 
 rattled away.
 
 BAY RONALD. 101 
 
 ' Why are we stopping at Forge Farm ? 
 I do not want to see Philip/ asked Hasle- 
 dene, in a kind of whisper, staring heavily 
 at his wife. 
 
 A ploughman had now appeared who 
 shouldered their boxes and was carrying 
 them up the steps, while a maid held the 
 door open. 
 
 ' We must go in here,' replied Mrs. Sax- 
 by, with a decided, but very affectionate 
 manner. She took the returned prodigal 
 by the arm as if he had been a sick man, 
 and with a subdued and humble gait he 
 followed her, apparently willing to go 
 wherever she chose to lead. Dick follow- 
 ed them wondering, but stopped on the 
 parlour threshold, somehow frightened. 
 
 Hasledene, after a long enquiring look 
 round the room, stepped forward, leaning 
 his hand upon the table. 
 
 'Where is Philip? Why do we visit him?'
 
 102 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' He is at Rookhurst . . . Oh, my poor 
 George, you must not take this to heart.' 
 
 ' But why, why ? In heaven's name, 
 madam, speak out. Catherine, answer me, 
 I adjure you. Why are we here instead 
 of in our own home ? What woman's fool- 
 ishness is this ?' 
 
 ' No foolishness. Oh, mv dear love — 
 my husband — this is our home.' Cather- 
 ine's lips could hardly frame the words. 
 
 Hasledene drew a long breath and 
 looked at her fixedly. 
 
 'What did you say?' he hoarsely whis- 
 pered, breath failing him as he staggered 
 against the table. ' You don't mean it — ■ 
 Philip ? He could not?' 
 
 ' Yes ; he did f Then in quick agitation, 
 alarmed by her husband's strange look 
 and starting eyes, Mrs. Saxby stretched 
 out her hands in pitying, imploring aiFec- 
 tion. ' There was no choice. Mr. Butler
 
 BAY EONALD. 103 
 
 and others agreed with me. What does 
 Rookhurst matter, George ? Your love,, 
 your freedom, are dearer to me than any 
 estate.' 
 
 Hasledene, who was holding by the 
 table, strove with one disengaged hand to 
 free the travelling muffler from his throat ; 
 his face turned a dark purple. Perhaps 
 his boot slipped on the bare oak boards, 
 anyway there followed a crash. He had 
 fallen heavily on the floor, seized with a 
 kind of apoplectic fit. 
 
 Two maids ran in at their mistress's loud 
 cry, echoed by a howl from Dick that 
 might have been heard in the village. 
 When Catherine had loosened her hus- 
 band's neck-cloth and stock, besides bath- 
 ing his forehead, while the servants applied 
 burnt feathers to his nose, Hasledene 
 presently revived. He feebly waved aside 
 their restoratives, muttering, ' Rubbish fit
 
 i04 BAY RONALD. 
 
 for women.' Then, while helped to rise by 
 a farm-labourer whom Dick had hauled in 
 from the cow-house to assist, the unfor- 
 tunate man dropped back in agony. 
 
 ' My leg ! By all the powers of evil, it 
 is broken !' As he lay supported in their 
 arms on the ground, sweat burst out on 
 Hasledene's face. Then, looking up at 
 his dismayed wife, ' My poor Catherine, 
 what a heavy load I am, and may be for 
 many a day.' 
 
 ' Do not trouble about that, George ; 
 we will contrive to carry you to your bed,' 
 answered she, prosaically. 
 
 ' I did not mean that. No matter,' mut- 
 tered her husband, misunderstood. 
 
 Did she think him a brute then, only 
 occupied with thoughts of himself? Alas ! 
 he guessed all sentimental bloom had been 
 rubbed so long ago from her girlish sensi- 
 bilities, that she had since erred on the
 
 BAY KONALD. 105 
 
 other side, taking it for granted that he 
 was hopelessly selfish and heartless, was 
 a mere drinking, swearing, hard-riding 
 brawler ; a ^Drofligate who had wasted her 
 fortunes and brought her near beggary. 
 This, be it remembered, was how he sup- 
 posed she thought of him ; as if any one 
 being can rightly guess another's mind, 
 least of all a man that of a woman. 
 
 Later on, Dick, who had been kept 
 aloof, pushed aside by everyone, and 
 quaking in his highlows, ventured near 
 to his father's bedside. The latter attempt- 
 ed a grin of sickly cheerfulness for his 
 boy, stirred a little, but then groaned. 
 
 ' Never mind,' whispered Dick, cuddling 
 his head close to the bigger man's one, 
 ' we'll nurse you quite well. And we 
 have got you here safe now, mother and 
 I. You can't go away and leave us, and 
 so we are glad.'
 
 106 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' The deuce you are !' rapped out Has- 
 ledene testily, yet with a tremulous laugh. 
 
 ' Now, Richard, you must leave your 
 father. Come aAvay. You hinder me,' 
 said Catherine's voice behind them, w^ith a 
 jealous intonation. 
 
 She did not mean to be untender to her 
 little son, but it hurt her that even Dick 
 should come between herself and the help- 
 less man lying on the bed ; for was not her 
 husband given back to her. He was all 
 her own again while she helped to feed 
 him, raise his pillows, nurse him like a 
 child. 
 
 That night, and for some more to follow, 
 Hasledene was feverish and at times delir- 
 ious in his talk. His wife alone sat up 
 with him through the night watches; none 
 else must hear what fell from his lips 
 unawares. Yet if she winced deeply at 
 some revelations escaping the unguarded
 
 BAY RONALD. 107 
 
 portals of speech, at other times she felt 
 thrilled by the hot words of penitence 
 which burst out spontaneously ; passionate 
 self-upbraidings ; hopeless lamentations 
 that his Catherine would never forgive 
 him the wrongs done to her and their boy. 
 Verily, his debts seemed to drive him to 
 desperation and drink when he saw her 
 suffering in silence. Heaven be his 
 witness ! he had never meant to commit 
 half his follies. How they had come 
 about he knew not, and the end of it all 
 — the end. Then rolling his head, twist- 
 ing the bed-clothes in a great rope with 
 straining fists, he would call down per- 
 dition upon Philip Saxby, God's judgment 
 upon the Judas who had tempted him 
 down the devil's causeway and then be- 
 trayed him. 
 
 After such paroxysms Hasledene's fever 
 ran high ; but in quieter, lucid intervals
 
 108 BAY RONALD. 
 
 he found Catherine bending over him, 
 whispering soothing words in her bride's 
 voice of former years, laying a kiss on his 
 weak face with the love of long ago. Thus 
 it was these two came together during that 
 time of trouble and pain as never before 
 during their years of married life. They 
 understood each other better although 
 they had grown apart. 
 
 And yet, and yet — they touched hands 
 across a chasm.
 
 109 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 By slow degrees, Hasledene recovered 
 from his weary illness. As the spring days 
 grew longer and the sun shone warmly 
 at times he ventured into the little garden 
 with help of a crutch and Dick's shoulder, 
 who stepped proudly beneath that gvi]). 
 Then came a March afternoon when the con- 
 valescent man, only needing a stout stick 
 now, adventured himself down the road. 
 He wore his second-best hat, and was 
 dressed more jauntily than of late he had 
 been at pains to do, which Dick noticed^ 
 wondering in his heart. 
 
 ' May I come with you, sir ?' he begged
 
 110 BAY RONALD. 
 
 with the merry smile, so like Hasledene's 
 own, which his easy-going father had 
 seldom or ever resisted. 
 
 An unusual sternness sat on Hasledene's 
 face to-day which, though coarsened and 
 reddened of late years, still kept much of 
 its old handsome jollity. 
 
 ' No, no; get back to your play, my boy. 
 I have man's work to do now.' 
 
 ' But I want to grow up quick to be a 
 man. You said yourself the other day 
 I would be one soon,' pleaded the boy. 
 ' Please let me come.' 
 
 Hasledene hesitated, then laid his hand 
 somewhat solemnly on Dick's shoulder. 
 After full a minute's silence, he suddenly 
 rapped out, 
 
 ' Yes. Keep this secret, however, Rich- 
 ard ; I can trust you as a gentleman. You 
 will grow up to be the head of the Saxby 
 house, and to do honour to the Hasledene
 
 BAY RONALD. Ill 
 
 side too. You will not forget what you 
 hear and see this day.' 
 
 Then, whispering his intention, those two 
 set their faces towards Rookhurst, going 
 into the park by a small gate near Forge 
 Farm ; and as they went Hasledene im- 
 proved the occasion with admonitions, bid- 
 ding Dick listen faithfully to what he said, 
 but not do as he had done. So they passed 
 down by the home-farm, where the hop- 
 poles were stacked like an army of tents, 
 and into the low valley ground with peeps 
 beyond into the far landscape of blue dis- 
 tances, while the copse-wood showed a 
 violet blush as of Avarm sap rising in the 
 still bare twigs. Many times they were 
 forced to rest on account of Hasledene's 
 leg, but his face, though pale, was stern 
 set, so that Dick dared not ask him to put 
 oiF their errand till another day. 
 
 At Rookhurst House itself the hearts of
 
 112 BAY EONALD. 
 
 both swelled as they rang the bell and 
 waited as visitors. New servants came 
 to the door, who eyed them sheepishly at 
 the Saxby name, whispered in the back- 
 ground, then went to see if the master was 
 at home. 
 
 ' The master,' muttered Hasledene be- 
 tween his teeth, ' the devil !' 
 
 Then a footman returned to say that Mr. 
 Saxby was in the justicing-room, engaged 
 in trying a case brought before him as 
 magistrate. He regretted to keep them 
 waiting, but was unable to come until his 
 business was dispatched. 
 
 ' Very well ; we will go to him. In the 
 justicing-room ? Ah, that is as it should be.' 
 And Hasledene pushing past the servants, 
 who wished to stop him but dared not, 
 strode down the stone passages leading 
 from the hall which he knew so well. 
 
 The justicing-room looked out on the
 
 BAY RONALD. 113 
 
 moat, and was a bare cheerless apartment 
 by tbe door of which stood a miserable 
 poacher, two parish constables, and wit- 
 nesses to the half-starved wretch's offence. 
 Philip Saxby was seated in a high chair 
 of office — his mouth more crooked than 
 ever — and close by, waiting till his friend 
 should have dispensed the law, Ratcliffe 
 was listening with apparent unconcern, 
 although at any tittle of evidence slightly 
 in favour of the prisoner he hummed and 
 cleared his throat significantly. 
 
 Ratcliffe was suspected, by the few 
 country gentlemen who disliked him, of 
 having republican proclivities, for he was 
 over-kindly disposed, they thought, to all 
 the country vagabonds and ne'er-do-weels. 
 His friends declared old Rat had a most 
 feeling heart, although when he pleased he 
 could be as hard as a mill-stone. 
 
 ' 'Twas but a rabbit, your worship ; and, 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 BAY RONALD. 
 
 as there is a Judge above us, my wife and 
 children were starving, for we missed the 
 broken victuals that Mistress Saxby used 
 to send us always.' 
 
 Hasledene's entrance interrupted the 
 j)itiful tale. 
 
 It had been a winter of sore distress 
 truly ; almost famine. Yet the magistrate 
 was frowning, and in those days such 
 trespasses as poaching a rabbit were pun- 
 ished with great severity. 
 
 Both Philip and Ratcliffe sprang to their 
 feet, the former angered and startled, 
 therefore stammering in his speech. 
 
 ' You — you — you — Mr. Hasledene Sax- 
 by ! You come in unannounced. My 
 servants have forgotten their duty. I sent 
 you Avord, sir ' 
 
 Ratcliffe pushed past with a smooth smile 
 and extended hand. 
 
 'What, Hasledene! Come, it is a
 
 BAY RONALD. 115 
 
 pleasure indeed to see you better. This 
 is your iirst walk. I take it. You have 
 come to see your cousin ? Pray — pray 
 take my chair.' 
 
 Hasledene gave scarcely a glance at the 
 hland face but shifty eye of the mediator, 
 but fixed his look full on Philip, who 
 stood livid with hate, furious with himself 
 for not knowing how to take the situation. 
 
 ' Friendly,' thundered Hasledene, cram- 
 ming his hat tighter on his head, for he 
 had not uncovered. ' No ! a thousand 
 times, no ! What ? friendlv to a thief, a 
 million times worse scoundrel than that 
 poor wretch he is sentencing. A liar ! A 
 dissembling, smiling villain ! who wormed 
 himself into my confidence to ruin me and 
 mine. Dog ! — take that !' and limping for- 
 ward he struck Philip sharply across the 
 face with his glove. 
 
 There was a scuffle, a rush; Ratcliffe 
 
 i2
 
 116 BAY RONALD. 
 
 had intervened, and, with a strength for 
 Avhich few would have given even his wiry 
 form credit, was pushing aj^art the two 
 men, a hand on the breast of each. 
 
 ' Gentlemen ! Gentlemen ! You are 
 not alone — for appearances' sake — you are 
 magistrates both ! George ! remember your 
 boy. Philip ! not before this canaille^ he 
 hissed, in energetic whispers. 
 
 He was right. Both men folded their 
 arms and stepped back. 
 
 ' This insult, Mr. Hasledene Saxby, can 
 only be wiped out with blood,' gasped 
 Philip, distinctly, but so low that the 
 startled little group by the door did not 
 catch the words. 
 
 Hasledene raised his hat. 
 
 ' Meet me when and where you please. 
 I am ready.' Then turning to where Dick 
 stood in his wake, with eyes as big as 
 saucers, ' Come, my lad, you have seen
 
 BAY RONALD. 117 
 
 and had your lesson. We will go now/ 
 So they two made their way out, the 
 servants shrinking aside like frightened 
 sheep. 
 
 On the homeward way Hasledene grew 
 faint as they went with halting steps this 
 time through the village. Out came Mr. 
 Butler, seeing them from his study win- 
 dow, bent on oiFering hospitality and rest. 
 Hasledene sank down wearily on a damp 
 garden bench, but refused to enter the 
 rectory that day. 
 
 ' I thank you, Mr. Butler, but I am not 
 fit company for you or your good wife,' he 
 answered, heavily, to the rector's urgings. 
 ' Here, Richard, run and see what time it 
 is by the church clock. Now the boy is 
 gone, my dear sir, I can speak freely. I 
 have been to Rookhurst, and the sight of 
 that Judas, that Brutus, who betrayed his 
 friend, has raised such anger — righteous
 
 118 BAY KONALD. 
 
 anger, mind yon, Bntler, in ray mind, that 
 I will not cross the threshold of your 
 house to bring it in there. I will stay out 
 here in the open air.' 
 
 Mr. Butler was silent a moment. 
 
 ' Was Judas, was Brutus, railed against 
 by those two whom each betrayed ?' he then 
 asked. 
 
 ' Great goodness, man alive ! Great 
 goodness ! you would not compare me — ?' 
 burst out Hasledene. ' I am only a sinner^ 
 and I spoke to-day as I felt.' 
 
 ' Csesar was a sinner, too, and suffered 
 worse things in his betrayal. You have 
 lost your fortune, Hasledene ; he was mur- 
 dered. " Skin for skin," as the devil said 
 when he asked leave to tempt Job. '' Yea,, 
 all that a man hath will he give for his 
 life."' 
 
 Then both ceased, for Dick came back 
 dutifully with the time of day.
 
 BAY KONALD. 119 
 
 * I may see you soon again, very soon 
 perhaps, Mr. Butler/ said Hasledene. ris- 
 ing to take leave ; ' and if so, my dear old 
 friend, I trust that my mind may be in 
 a better state to listen to your ghostly 
 counsel.'
 
 120 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The day but one later Dick was burning 
 witb curiosity to learn Avhat mystery was 
 in the air. He knew that some secret was 
 hidden from his mother besides the visit 
 which his father and he had made to Rook- 
 hurst, for twice yesterday young Squire 
 Falconer had ridden over to see his father, 
 ostensibly concerning an offer to buy the 
 latter's bay hunter, a favourite mare which 
 had been brought to the farm from Rook- 
 hurst. But Dick had chanced to see 
 them unawares whispering in the stable, 
 forgetting even to open the door of 
 Bayonet's loose box.
 
 BAY KONALD. ~ 121 
 
 Next morning Hasledene left the house 
 early, as Catherine was going to oversee 
 some dairy work. He made a pretext to 
 stop his wife and kissed her on the cheek, 
 at which she blushed red like any girl. 
 For many years she had not been accus- 
 tomed to such a mark o£ affection on the 
 part of her husband. 
 
 Dick bided his time, then ran up, inno- 
 cent-faced, to whisper, without being over- 
 heard, 
 
 ' Are you going for a walk, sir ? may 
 not I come too ?' 
 
 ' No, no, my boy ; not to-day. Go to 
 your lessons.' 
 
 There was a choke, Dick fancied, in his 
 father's voice. The latter placed his hand 
 upon the curly pate a moment. Why was 
 it that Dick felt as if the familiar touch 
 was meant for a farewell blessing ? 
 
 ' Go to your lessons !' the thing was
 
 122 BAY RONALD. 
 
 impossible. Dick watched his father dowrn 
 the road, then creeping between the hay- 
 ricks and peering through the brown 
 hedge saw him turn by the near Rook- 
 hurst gate into the park. The boy wrig- 
 gled through the hedge without an in- 
 stant's loss of time, crossed a field with a 
 careless step, lest anyone might be watch- 
 ing, then dived into a copse, fighting his 
 way head foremost like his own terrier in 
 pursuit of a rabbit. There was a high,, 
 close, park paling to be climbed beyond. 
 Dick's fingers barely touched its top, and 
 how he kicked and scrambled up it with- 
 out a helping hand he could not have 
 told, except that he somehow tumbled 
 over on the further side. Picking himself 
 up with a grunt or two over his barked 
 shins, Dick struck ahead through the trees 
 till he caught sight of his father's figure 
 in the distance. Then he followed, care-
 
 BAY RONALD. 123 
 
 fully keeping out of sight, hiding at times 
 behind a tree and at last being forced to 
 take refuge in a gorse patch that stretched 
 round an exj)osed hill corner. 
 
 Crawling to its further side, and feeling 
 as stabbed with pricks as a pin-cushion, 
 the boy raised his head cautiously and 
 looked out. Just below in the park there 
 was a quiet glade notched out of the val- 
 ley, for the most part surrounded by 
 hanging woods. Some giant Scotch firs 
 grew below, and on the brown needle- 
 strewn ground at their feet two groups of 
 men were standing some paces apart. 
 These were Dick's father and Squire Fal- 
 coner ; with yonder Mr. Philip Saxby and 
 Captain Ratcliffe. A sporting doctor of 
 the country-side had his gig drawn up 
 under the trees in the background. Dick 
 knew him well since the old days of jolly 
 dinners at Rookhurst. No guest was
 
 124 BAY RONALD. 
 
 smaller or noisier than the ' pocket doctor,' 
 as the little man was called. Dick and he 
 were specially friendly, the former feeling 
 no great disparity in the matter of height. 
 
 But what were they doing down there ? 
 First Mr. Falconer, then Captain Ratcliffe, 
 paced a certain distance as if measuring 
 the ground — stood still, and consulted. 
 Next Dick's father and Philip Saxby were 
 beckoned forward a few steps, when they 
 also stood still. Falconer and Ratcliffe 
 retired a little way. Just then the sun- 
 light glanced upon something Avhich Philip 
 Saxby held in his hand and slowly raised 
 — the barrel of a j^istol. 
 
 The truth flashed upon little Dick's 
 mind. He was seeing a duel. The word 
 ^ fire,' given by some one down there, 
 faintly sounded. Just after a quick bright 
 flash there was a report, and Hasledene 
 was seen to stagger back a few steps, his
 
 BAY RONALD. . 125 
 
 hand pressed to his side. Dick knelt 
 among the gorse as if rooted there, star- 
 ing, longing to cry out ; but his lungs 
 and throat felt choked, though he gasped 
 for air. Hasledene steadied himself one 
 minute with legs planted apart, then 
 slowly and with apparent effort, raised hi& 
 right hand and hred in turn. 
 
 Next moment he fell sideways fainting 
 on the ground, while Falconer rushed for- 
 ward to his aid. 
 
 Before the smoke cleared away, Dick 
 was running down hill as fast as his legs 
 could take him. The others looked up 
 astonished as they heard the quick sobbing 
 of the boy's breath before he flung him- 
 self down on his knees beside the wounded 
 man. Dr. Twigge had already torn open 
 his patient's shirt, and was examining 
 his wound to see where the bullet had 
 lodged.
 
 126 BAY ROXALD. 
 
 ' Bless my heart and soul !' he cried out 
 irritably. ' Send the brat away, Falconer, 
 he has no business here. This is not a fit 
 sight for a child.' 
 
 ' It is my business, sir, he is my father. 
 Please don't send me away, Mr. Falconer,' 
 and Dick looked up jjiteously with quiver- 
 ing white face. ' I am not a baby to cry 
 out if I see some blood. My father knows 
 that — let me stay with him.' 
 
 ' I'll be hanged, but you shall,' cried 
 Falconer kindly, being a good-humoured 
 rough diamond who liked the boy's pluck. 
 ' One of your kidney is no hindrance. Be 
 off and help us. Fetch some water for 
 your father in your hat.' 
 
 Truly enough Dick was really useful a 
 few minutes later, doing Falconer's bid- 
 ding while the latter stayed in sole 
 charge of his principal. For when Hasle- 
 dene was perceived to be not mortally
 
 BAY RONALD. 127 
 
 wounded, and that consciousness was 
 slowly coming back to him, Ratcliffe softly 
 called, 
 
 ' Dr. Twigge, can you see to my man 
 for a minute? His beauty is a trifle 
 spoilt, I fancy, and he seems to take it to 
 heart.' With his usual pleasing smile he 
 nodded to where Philip was sitting on a 
 felled log nursing his cheek, which his 
 second had roughly bandaged with hand- 
 kerchiefs. ' Looks as if he had the tooth- 
 ache,' went on Ratcliffe, genially. 
 
 Dr. Twigge hastily made inspection, and 
 found that Philip's face was furrowed by 
 his enemy's bullet, which had also some- 
 what damaged the jaw. 
 
 ' A pretty shot for a wounded man. 
 Faith, another half-inch and Hasledene 
 would have done for you neatly, my 
 friend,' was Ratcliffe's next consolation to 
 his suffering principal.
 
 128 BAY EONALD. 
 
 Philip growled, turning eyes reddened 
 and blinking with pain angrily upon this 
 mocking ally. The man of ledgers and 
 corn-chandhng resented bodily injury as a 
 grievous wrong, while the other, no doubt 
 grown callous in mind as tough in skin 
 during his navy service, looked on such 
 a casualty as a broken jaw in the light of 
 a joke. 
 
 Ratcliffe's own courage was undoubted. 
 It was a bye-word in the hunting-field to 
 speak of some impossible fence as what 
 neither Captain RatclifFe nor the devil 
 would da,re. With all this the man w^as 
 never boastful ; only he was wont to say 
 that one's life was a matter of small ac- 
 count to all others except the particular 
 beins: who owned it. As to the latter in- 
 dividual — here he would shrug his shoul- 
 ders and take snufF — each man could best 
 answer the question whether his exist-
 
 BAY RONALD. 129 
 
 ence was worth having, more especially 
 if a husband and hen-pecked. 
 
 When the doctor left him, Philip 
 Saxby gripped Ratcliffe by the arm mut- 
 tering, 
 
 ' Tell me, is he badly hurt over there ? 
 Hasledene — will he die ?' 
 
 ' No — no. They are preparing to carry 
 him home now. Mrs. Saxby will nurse 
 him well a second time, you will see,' re- 
 turned Ratcliffe, in his most consoling 
 accents. 
 
 ' D — n him. I hoped he was done 
 for.' 
 
 The unfulfilled wish was whispered with 
 such venomous jealousy, that Ratcliffe 
 started slightly, then turned his face away 
 to hide the lighting up of his features with 
 an unholy grin of malicious delight. His 
 friend Philip's weaknesses were to him a 
 source of secret and unceasing delectation. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 BAY RONALD. 
 
 A moment after he urged his companion 
 to rise, gently chiding the latter's outburst 
 by tone and manner rather than words. 
 
 ' Tut, tut, my good fellow. Why, we 
 ought never to let our passions get the 
 better of us. You know he laughs best who 
 laughs last. How do you feel — all right, 
 €h? Then let us get to my house as fast 
 a.s possible. We will have my horses put 
 to in a twinkling, and drive you up in a 
 closed chaise to London till this little aiFair 
 has blown over.' 
 
 So, giving Philip Saxby his arm, these 
 two worthies disappeared out of sight 
 through the trees. 
 
 Measures were now taken to carry 
 Hasledene home through the woods as 
 quickly as possible. Falconer impressed 
 two game-keepers into this service who had 
 come running up on hearing shots fired. 
 The men were horror-struck on seeing the
 
 BAY EONALD. 131 
 
 plight of their late master who, with all 
 his faults, was always a great favourite 
 among his servants and dependents. One 
 ran towards the home-farm to fetch a 
 hurdle, and thus the news spread like wild- 
 fire over all Rookhurst. 
 
 Before ten minutes every man had struck 
 work about the place. 
 
 In vain the farm-baiUff shouted and 
 «wore. Ebenezer Bird, the ploughman, 
 told him roundly he might stop all their 
 wages and keep the money — w^hich he 
 emphasized with a strong epithet — for 
 himself, but stay they would not, and help 
 to carry their own squire home they would. 
 Even the head gardener ran, leaving his 
 forcing-houses with the doors open, and the 
 March wind blowing in. And presently 
 there was a throng down in the valley 
 glade of rough, but tender-hearted big 
 men, crowded together to get a glimpse of 
 
 k2
 
 132 BAY KONALD. 
 
 the limp figure that lay upon the ground. 
 Twenty coats were pulled off to lay upon 
 the hurdle, as many more shoulders fought 
 for the honour of bearing that dying bur- 
 den home through the wood. They cursed 
 Philip under their breaths ; and, when a 
 whisper ran that he was gone to London, 
 a low but savage laugh went round. Only 
 w^hen Falconer ordered that some one 
 should make haste to warn Mrs. Saxby of 
 what had happened, all hung back. 
 
 ' Send to Parson Butler, sir, or his lady,' 
 suggested old Amos Bird, with the wisdom 
 of many years. ' Women comfort women 
 best, and our rector is better than any 
 doctor.' 
 
 The country people had great faith in 
 Mr. Butlers skill in curing many ailments, 
 for he gave much medicine in charity, and 
 they SAvallowed it in faith. 
 
 ' I'll send.'
 
 BAY RONALD. 133 
 
 Falconer looked round him doubtfully. 
 His groom had been despatched post haste 
 for another doctor. His own chestnut 
 stood tied to a tree, but he did not like to 
 <iesert his present post. 
 
 ' Hi, Dick !' he exclaimed, his eye light- 
 ing on the boy, ' dare you ride my horse 
 up to the rectory ?' adding in a whisper, 
 ' There is not one of these farm fellows I 
 can trust.' 
 
 ' Dare he !' Dick's face brightened. He 
 had ridden his own pony to hounds since 
 lie was six years old, but never yet had he 
 been mounted on a thoroughbred horse. 
 
 Falconer threw him up into the saddle ; 
 and as Dick rode away with muttered good 
 wishes buzzing in his ears, and the big 
 horse going under him in an easy gallop 
 across the park, trees and bushes seeming 
 to fly past on either side, his heart filled 
 with hysterical exultation.
 
 134 BAY KONALD. 
 
 It was all like a strano^e dream, and he 
 was trusted like a man. He had not time 
 yet to feel grief for his father. His young 
 head was too bewildered, and it is to be 
 feared that the secret joy of excitement^ 
 which even older minds know, possessed 
 him. 
 
 There was a fence at some distance 
 dividing the park from the grazing mead- 
 ows that lay near the home farm. It never 
 occurred to Dick he might try to open the 
 gate a little lower down. So he set the chest- 
 nut's head at the fence, who, cocking his 
 ears and feeling such a feather-weight on 
 his back, hopped over like a bird. A shout 
 of remonstrant horror from Falconer in the 
 distance was changed into a loud ' Bravo !' 
 Slapping his breeches that worthy told 
 himself that Dick was a centaur, and he 
 would stand his friend through life. Which 
 he did.
 
 BAY KONALD. 13 
 
 OO 
 
 There were two more fences dividing- 
 the meadows, one of low posts and rails,, 
 the second a bank with the farm road on 
 the other side. Dick gave an inward 
 whoop as his horse flew the rails : at the 
 bank he almost fell ofi*, and clung to the 
 chestnut's mane for a second or two, but 
 recovering his saddle, felt prouder than 
 ever. He was a real man on a real horse. 
 He was a trusty messenger, galloping on 
 an errand of tremendous importance. 
 
 On, — on: clattering down the farm road; 
 dashing out on the high-road itself, start- 
 ling two amazed carters as he flew by. 
 On — on ! 
 
 Crimson with excitement, Dick began 
 pulling up his horse at the rectory sweep 
 gate, and got him stopped with his muzzle 
 nearly through the study window. He 
 slipped to the ground, tied up the reins to 
 the shrubbery railings with trembling
 
 136 BAY RONALD. 
 
 fingers, and forgetting to ring or knock, 
 staggered straight into Mr. Butler's pres- 
 ence, feeling his legs past his own control. 
 
 Mr. Butler, who was in the midst of 
 composing his sermon for next Sunday, 
 looked up in astonishment, changed to 
 dismay as the boy faltered out his news 
 between great gasps for breath. 
 
 ' It was a fine duel, sir,' ended Dick, with 
 flashing eyes. ' And Squire Falconer says 
 that my father's shot was a splendid one.' 
 
 ' Oh, my boy, my poor boy,' and Butler's 
 arm fell about Dickie's shoulders and drew 
 the lad close to his kind breast. ' I must 
 needs tell of this fine duel to your mother. 
 God help her and you.' 
 
 While Dickie silently drew long breaths, 
 his exultant mind as suddenly arrested as 
 he himself had pulled up |;his horse's late 
 gallop, Mr. Butler raised his eyes rever- 
 ently towards heaven.
 
 BAY RONALD. 137 
 
 ' How shall I do this thing ?' he said, 
 speaking aloud to himself, yet conscious 
 of Dick's presence. * My child, let us 
 kneel down and ask for help.' 
 
 The good man went down on his own 
 knees by the study table as he spoke, and 
 prayed aloud for a minute or so, that in 
 the hour of the stricken woman's affliction 
 it might be taught him in the spirit what 
 to say. Above all might these two sinful 
 men be pardoned who were guilty of at- 
 tempting to take each other's lives. Might 
 they have time for grace granted them. 
 
 When he rose Dickie gave a long gasp, 
 and fell into a choking, gurgling fit of sob- 
 bing. Then the room grew dark and he felt 
 strangely cold. 
 
 ' Poor little man,' said Mr. Butler, ' it 
 has been too much for him.' And he laid 
 Dick, who was in a faint, upon the sofa. 
 Calling his wife, the good man left the
 
 138 BAY RONALD. 
 
 boy in her care with hasty explanations. 
 Then, seizing his hat, the rector in turn 
 got on Falconer's horse and rode to the 
 farm, seeing through the park trees at 
 some distance a small crowd like black 
 ants coming slowly onwards.
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Dick roused out of what lie thought a 
 very odd sleep, and found himself feeling 
 rather sick and queer. There was a cold 
 wet bandage tied round his forehead, and 
 he felt a hot brick wrapped in flannel 
 scorching his stockinged feet. Also he 
 could hear a murmur of female voices 
 that seemed far away, though a silk gown 
 rustled against his bolster cushion. His 
 eyes were so heavy it was a trouble to 
 open them, but listening with a faint 
 buzzing in his ears he caught the words, 
 
 ' Mustard blisters to his soles if he does 
 not come-to soon, poor lamb.'
 
 140 BAY KONALD. 
 
 ' Yes, and a black draught to-night, 
 ma am.' 
 
 Uj^on which these two female torturers 
 saw by Dick's blinking eyelids that he 
 heard their horrid counsels, and Mrs. But- 
 ler thereupon began kissing and hugging 
 him, which was so vexing that he roused 
 outright. 
 
 Then with, 'That's right, and now 
 Betty get him some ground-ivy tea,' which 
 was the last drop of bitterness in the vic- 
 tim's cup ; the door closed and he was left, 
 as he supposed, alone. 
 
 So — instead of being a hero after his 
 perilous ride Dick found himself in this 
 humiliating and ridiculous plight. Called 
 ' a lamb !' Kissed by Mrs. Butler ! Slob- 
 bered over by tearful Betty ! Worst of 
 all ! doomed to swalloAv this very night a 
 nauseous, griping decoction. 
 
 Dick was used to fighting his mother's
 
 BAY EONALD. 141 
 
 maid when the latter gave him medicine. 
 Then she generally seized his nose till he 
 grew purple and gasped, when down she 
 poured some of the nasty stuiF; the rest 
 was generally spilled over his frilled collar. 
 Also the housemaid would be pinning his 
 arms meanwhile, while he kicked and strug- 
 gled lustily with both his captors. But now 
 there was no kick left in him. Feeling most 
 unhappy, Dick thought of creeping away 
 to hide, but trying to rise he turned so 
 strangely giddy that he fell back on the sofa. 
 Shame and disgust at this broke out in 
 sudden sweat on his face, and tears of mor- 
 tification slowly rolled from under his half- 
 closed eyelids. 
 
 Then a girlish voice entreated in accents 
 of pity, yet awed admiration, 
 
 ' Don't cry, Dick. Oh ! we have been 
 so frightened about you. I thought you 
 were dead lying there. Don't cry — in-
 
 142 BAY RONALD. 
 
 deed my father has returned home and he 
 says Mr. Hasledene is aUve . . . and doing 
 fairly.' 
 
 The speaker stammered over this last 
 affirmation. She was Anne Butler, the 
 rector's eldest daughter, just twelve years 
 of age and not accustomed to hiding ugly 
 truths. 
 
 The shock of knowing that a girl had 
 seen him cry was lightened considerably 
 when Dick found himself a veritable hero 
 in her eyes. He allowed Anne to prop 
 him upright, rewarding her by dark hints 
 concerning the duel of which he had been 
 a spectator. No, he would not tell her 
 outright ; boys of his age did not babble 
 a,bout such grave matters. And Anne who 
 was a gentle prig at that time, a dear roly- 
 poly of an eldest child, used to keeping 
 younger brothers and sisters in order, 
 looked upon Dick as what she had not
 
 BAY KONALD. 143 
 
 yet known, a boy who was brave, handsome, 
 one to be secretly worshipped. He was 
 younger than herself, but no matter ! Anne 
 felt that he would not obey her ; therefore 
 in their childish intercourse she accepted 
 Dick as her friend and tyrant, in short her 
 biggest brother. 
 
 So with a wry face Dick swallowed the 
 ground-ivy tea, previously bargaining to 
 be let off the black draught. Then finding 
 he was thought too indisposed to be taken 
 home (indeed no one at the farm would 
 have had time to attend to him while his 
 father lay between living and dying), he 
 was comforted, and got well enough to 
 play Pope Joan with the other children 
 before supper. He even allowed himself 
 to endure Mrs. Butler's petting with com- 
 placency. She was not comparable of 
 course to his own mother, being unhand- 
 some, in his opinion, from her large size.
 
 144 BAY RONALD. 
 
 This last was owing to an internal com- 
 plaint from which the poor lady suffered 
 greatly at times ; but she bore her pangs 
 without murmuring, and her placid fea- 
 tures at times literally .beamed with 
 goodness. 
 
 They had prayers night and morning at 
 the rectory, when special intercession was 
 made by Mr. Butler for their friend Hasle- 
 dene lying grievously sick. This impressed 
 Dick deeply. On being late the first morn- 
 ing, and gently admonished by Mr. Butler, 
 he artlessly explained, 
 
 ' I thought men kept prayers for Sunday. 
 Of course women and girls are different.' 
 
 ' We dress our bodies every morning ; 
 even so until we have said our j)rayers 
 we should consider our souls undressed,' 
 replied the rector. ' You put off your 
 dusty clothes and your muddy boots at 
 night, my lad; and likcAvise in family
 
 BAY RONALD. 145 
 
 prayers we want to leave off tlie sins of the 
 day like soiled garments.' 
 
 Soon afterwards Dick asked his friend 
 Anne in confidence, 
 
 ' I say, your mother's face shines after 
 prayer-time just like mine after it has been 
 washed. How does she get that look?' 
 
 Anne reflected gravely, 
 
 ' I suppose praying makes her feel bright 
 and clean.' 
 
 ' I never knew before it soaped the soul 
 like that,' returned Dick, meaning no ir- 
 reverence. 
 
 And the moral atmosphere of the rectory, 
 one full of charity and sweet reasonable- 
 ness, made him feel prodigiously good dur- 
 ing the week he stayed there. Every day 
 he crept home to enquire for his father, sit- 
 ting mute as a mouse on a high chair with his 
 hat between his knees, till his mother came 
 like a ghost down the crooked creaking 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 BAY RONALD. 
 
 farm-stair from the bed-room overhead, and 
 would say with a despairing kiss, in forced 
 cheerfulness, that his father was ' no 
 worse.' Then back raced Dick to whoop 
 and shout when at a safe distance and join 
 the little Butlers at play. 
 
 Meantime he began to learn Latin with 
 the Butler boys, whom their father daily 
 taught ; and this became a habit, so that 
 his education for some years to come was 
 entirely conducted at the rectory, seeing 
 his mother could not afford him a tutor. 
 
 Once back at home Dick showed himself 
 quite a changed character for a whole day 
 — and a half. Sad to say, he then fell away 
 from grace, as older converts may do in time 
 of temptation. 
 
 What of Catherine Saxby during this 
 second and severe trial ? 
 
 Alas, poor Catherine ! She had only 
 just set about recovering from the distress
 
 BAY KONALD. 147 
 
 find great wrench of leaving Rookhurst, 
 fis also the anxiety and bodily strain of 
 nursing Hasledene after his illness. A faint 
 colour had but lately come to her cheeks, 
 though no more than the dying flush of 
 hawthorn flower. She had begun to take 
 pleasure in personally seeing to her kitchen, 
 the dairy, poultry-yard, and garden. These 
 diverted her thoughts. In former days at 
 Rookhurst the establishment was too large 
 for her personal interference in such 
 matters ; while netting purses, painting on 
 satin, or embroidering screens, never kept 
 aAvay bitter thoughts from gnawing at her 
 heart. But of late she was glad to rise 
 early and work hard, with a glow of satis- 
 faction in showing Hasledene what a 
 famous manager she was, while butter-mak- 
 ing and bacon-curing required her whole 
 attention. Also her woman's hopefulness, 
 which dies hard, had begun sending out 
 
 l2
 
 148 BAY RONALD. 
 
 fresh green sprouts. She and her George 
 were happy together ; might be so many 
 years. He would reconcile himself, as she 
 had done, to the new situation ; take many 
 burdens oiF her shoulders of decisions con- 
 cerning matters upon which she knew little 
 or nought. For already all questions as 
 to coming crops on their sixty-acre farm, 
 and the buying and selling of cattle, had 
 been referred to her during Hasledene'^ 
 illness. With the farm she had taken on 
 PhiHp's stock, besides adding some horses 
 and cattle from Rookhurst ; this part of the 
 business being arranged by arbitration, in 
 which Mr. Butler acted for herself and 
 Captain Ratcliife for Philip Saxby. 
 
 And noAV — all hope was over for her 
 husband. When he was carried by his 
 stumbling bearers up the steps of the low 
 arched doorway Catherine foresaw the end 
 — whether near or prolonged. Withered
 
 BAY RONALD. 149 
 
 ivere her foolish fancies of an autumn 
 domestic bliss ; romance that had lingered 
 long in her mind would in future only 
 enwreathe his memory. Her girlish heart 
 had been so loving yet too high-s]3irited; 
 the woman's one so patient but melancholy. 
 Oh, to live all that time over again, to 
 grapple with ugly facts, not sit dreaming 
 and wishing them otherwise ! Were all 
 men and women, she wondered, so disap- 
 pointed with life. Poor Catherine ! 
 
 ' Alas ! the ways of men !' So she made 
 her moan to Mrs. Butler as they two sat on 
 the raised dais at the end of the parlour. 
 This Mrs. Saxby had converted into a 
 small drawing-room with help of a square 
 of handworked rug, a stiff settee, and some 
 high chairs. ' So impetuous ! So v/anting 
 in reason ; losing hundreds at gambling 
 and flinging thousands after to get the first 
 back ; always making bad worse ; imperil-
 
 150 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ling life that is so precious to their wives 
 and children, because, forsooth, their hon- 
 our is breathed upon. See how my hus- 
 band has brought me to widowhood for 
 the rest of my years, and our Dick will be 
 fatherless, and the boy needs a strong 
 hand to curb him. Yes ! to think George 
 has brought his death upon himself.' She 
 half-closed her eyes and wrung her poor 
 tired hands together in her lap. 
 
 Mrs. Butler did not try to stop this out- 
 pouring of her neighbour's grief; she knew 
 it was a relief. 
 
 Mrs. Saxby went on, 
 
 ' You alone have seen my sufferings 
 these ten years, Lydia; I have had no 
 other intimate friend. But even you can 
 never guess — no one does. Heaven knows 
 I tried to be forgiving and patient so long, 
 but now I am tired. I feel nothing! not 
 even love or pity for my husband, notJiing.
 
 BAY RONALD. 151 
 
 I am a hardened wretch, a stock or stone. 
 My own wickedness frightens me, Lydia, 
 what shall I do?' She did not cry, but 
 still wrung her hands and kept turning 
 her head from side to side. 
 
 Mrs. Butler attempted consolation. 
 
 ' Do nothing, my dear creature, except 
 the duty that lies nearest to your hand. 
 Do not trouble how you feel ; what you 
 think. Remember your nature is sick and 
 overstrained because it cannot bear too 
 heavy a load. Your want of sensibility is 
 a blessing sent you, just as animals grow 
 thicker coats in winter weather that would 
 otherwise freeze them, for how could you 
 make yourself useful in nursing your hus- 
 band all these many nights if your mind 
 was fully alive to pain ?' 
 
 ' Ah, you are a lucky woman, dear 
 Lyddy. You married a good man, and one 
 whose cloth kept him besides from many
 
 152 BAY RONALD. 
 
 temptations. You are to be envied.' 
 Silently Mrs. Butler pressed her sorrow- 
 ing friend's hand and checked a rising 
 sigh. In secret the poor lady knew that her 
 mortal disease was fast gaining upon her, 
 and that, however happy she had been 
 with her husband and family, her time to 
 leave both was nearing. But she held her 
 2)eace. 
 
 Hasledene was so ill that he mostly lay 
 in a state of unconsciousness between 
 dozing and waking, too weak for speech. 
 In his best moments, returning strength 
 was only shown by his being fretful from 
 excessive pain; querulous when questioned, 
 because he wished to hide his sufferings. 
 
 Night after night Catherine watched 
 him upstairs in their wide but low-ceil- 
 inged bed-room, where he lay on an old 
 four-post bed; once handsomely carved, 
 but now impaired by time. A rush-woven
 
 BAY RONALD. 153 
 
 mattress was beneath him placed above the 
 bed-cords, for a feather-bed brought on fev- 
 erishness. The room had some remains of 
 panelhng and wood-carving, but these had 
 been long ago suffered to fall into decay. 
 Except for two handsome, ancient bride's 
 chests, the furniture was plain to ugliness. 
 Catherine used to set the low lattice- 
 window as wide open as the hasp would 
 allow, letting in the April breeze and 
 fresh smell of spring flowers. This was 
 their only luxury, and her dark eyes 
 would wander round the small room, 
 sighing for the spacious wainscotted cham- 
 ber at Rookhurst that had been hers and 
 the comforts which Hasledene now lacked. 
 What use was thinking ? She hastily 
 began knitting Dick's socks by the 
 meagre rushlight set in its thin, long, 
 iron holder ; thus she practised economy, 
 for the nineteenth century year was one
 
 154 BAY RONALD. 
 
 that had begun with sore distress and was 
 likely to end with worse. And being 
 conscientious the troubled woman was 
 groping ignorantly, so to S23eak, along her 
 new path of poverty, more fearful of its 
 thorns and unknown pitfalls than those 
 who were accustomed thereto. 
 
 One night Hasledene roused more than 
 usual after Catherine had given him some 
 beef-tea. Rejoiced, yet fearful what this 
 flickering up of strength might portend, 
 she bent to catch his feeble accents. 
 
 ' The staircase is very narrow and 
 crooked in this farm-house, Catherine. 
 How did they carry me up here?' 
 
 ' We put a blanket under you, George ^ 
 it was not so difficult. We learned how 
 to do it last time you were ill !' 
 
 ' But they can't do it next time ; my 
 coffin will never get round that first corner. 
 Giles must saw away the rail ... or you
 
 BAY RONALD. 155 
 
 will have to lower me from the window 
 by ropes.' 
 
 The exertion of talking made Hasledene 
 pause for breath half-way. Otherwise he 
 was contemplating his last journey un- 
 moved, only with the wish to spare his 
 wife future trouble. 
 
 ' My dear heart, don't — don't distress 
 yourself.' 
 
 Catherine's tears that had been so long 
 in coming now gushed from her eyes ; she 
 struggled in vain to keep back their flow 
 and had to turn away her face. It was 
 she who was sorely distressed, and seeing 
 this the sick man grew troubled in a won- 
 dering sort of way, fondled her arm with 
 weak hands, then became wandering in 
 his brain. 
 
 He was worse that night.
 
 156 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Dick, as has been said, was so good the 
 whole day after he came home that the ser- 
 vant-maids of the farm admired and mar- 
 velled, while Giles, the yard-man who 
 looked after the cows and was generally 
 handy, grinned a large grin of doubt and 
 asked how long the change would last. 
 
 Short time were they all left in sus- 
 pense. The very next day, as Dick was 
 going to play at the rectory, passing the 
 Rookhurst park paling, he espied his 
 Cousin Richie looking out from behind a 
 small gate which led towards the church, 
 and being seldom used was kept locked.
 
 BAY RONALD. 157 
 
 Richie beo^an shuffling his feet in a 
 dance of triumph and pulling faces. 
 
 'Wouldn't you like to come in; wouldn't 
 you ? But I am the young master here 
 now. I'll invite you sometimes, but re- 
 member you can't come without leave.' 
 
 ' I'll thrash you,' quoth Dick in a rage. 
 ' Come out and fight.' 
 
 But to this Richie would not be per- 
 suaded. In strict fairness it must be ad- 
 mitted that in former days Dick's own be- 
 haviour had been pretty much the same 
 to his then less fortunate cousin. Now the 
 tables were turned, and he did not like the 
 change of position. 
 
 That night, Molly going into ihe dairy 
 nearly died, so she declared later, of fright 
 on seeing a horrible white face with fiery 
 eyes glaring at her. She fell down and 
 kicked violently, as was then fashionable for 
 finer ladies when attacked with hysterics.
 
 158 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Giles ran to her aid, Dick also appearing 
 suspiciously in the nick of time. Giles va- 
 liantly hit out at the bogie, which fell with 
 a clatter, revealing a long brush draped in 
 Molly's own shawl, and a scooped turnip 
 head with candle ends stuck in its eye- 
 sockets. The loud guffaws of Giles and 
 Master Dick betrayed their evil doings ; 
 and when Molly scolded the latter later on 
 (after some scuffling with Giles, producing 
 mingled sounds of hearty slaps and kisses), 
 Dick impertinently replied that she was so 
 ugly Giles would never marry her. 
 
 The following evening towards supper 
 time, Dick straying lonely along the lanes 
 went as far as the Rookhurst gate close to 
 the big house. A great feeling of solitari- 
 ness oppressed the poor little fellow, and 
 he had simply sneaked there to look down 
 at the old home that was his Paradise Lost, 
 hoping not to meet anyone one who might
 
 BAY KONALD. 159 
 
 guess his secret errand. Heyday ! whom 
 should he see coming out of the gate but 
 his despoiler Richie leading Lucy Jennings 
 by the hand, escorting her home, indeed, 
 after a happy afternoon spent bird-nesting 
 together. 
 
 The little maid was trotting along de- 
 murely in a green serge frock and poke- 
 bonnet, while a worked bag with ribbon 
 strings hung from her arm containing 
 blown spoils. Dick's detestable rival was 
 gay in a new blue jacket Avith tails, and a 
 lace frill on his shirt ; while our hero was 
 conscious of a very old and somewhat 
 ragged brown suit. 
 
 'Where are you going?' he demanded, 
 stopping short in' front of them. ' Here, 
 Lucy, I'll take you home with me. Let go 
 his hand.' 
 
 ' You get out,' retorted Richie. ' She's 
 under my care. We don't want you. Go
 
 160 BAY RONALD. 
 
 back and feed the pigs. Miss Murdoch 
 says that nature cut you out for a farmer's 
 boy.' 
 
 Miss Murdoch was the maiden elderly 
 cousin whom Philip Saxby had engaged 
 after his wife's death to act as his house- 
 keeper. A shrewish woman but devoted 
 to his interests, and so ugly, to speak 
 plain truth, that scandal had never wagged 
 tongue against the arrangement. 
 
 Dick's Avrath rose inside him like a hot 
 blast; his heart was a fiery furnace. 
 What ! this puny, pink-eyed cha23 dare to 
 insult him ; this cur, whom he used to pa- 
 tronize, roughly enough it is true but with 
 no such taunts as these. He tore oiF his 
 jacket. 
 
 ' I'll fight you for this . . . You must 
 fight or else you're a coward.' Then with 
 fatherly solemnity to Lucy, who looked on 
 big eyed, ' You must go away,' he briefly
 
 BAY KONALD. 161 
 
 desired, ' this is no place for little girls/ 
 
 ' She shan't go.' 
 
 Richie was not fond by nature of fight- 
 ing, but his importance in Lucy's eyes, in 
 his own estimation, was at stake, and he 
 was up-lifted with pride. Disdaining to 
 seem careful of his fine coat, he made a 
 sudden rush upon his enemy. 
 
 Next instant a sore and bloody fight be- 
 gan. Kicks, cuffs, and wrestlings followed, 
 with sobbings for breath and out-cries. 
 At last both foes fell by the side of the 
 hedge, rolling over and over. Then 
 came a sharp howl from Dick ; Richie'3 
 teeth had met in the fleshy part of his arm, 
 while Dick retaliated by pounding his as- 
 sailant's head upon the road. It was not 
 a pretty sight. 
 
 Lucy, who kept on crying and running 
 vainly round the combatants hitherto, 
 could bear it no longer. She fled down 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 BAY KONALD. 
 
 the Rookhurst drive screaming at the top 
 of her voice ; hugging Dick's jacket, which 
 she had picked up, tightly to her breast. 
 Now Rookhurst house lay close under ihe 
 slope down which the short drive wound, 
 so her cries were quickly heard. Miss 
 Murdoch happened to be standing outside 
 the side-door at that very minute, rating 
 two careless maids for throwing broken 
 china into the stable shrubbery. 
 
 Away she set at a limjnng run, for she 
 suffered from corns, while the servant 
 girls followed her up the hill, all three 
 panting out exclamations. She was fond 
 of Lucy in her way, for what woman born 
 could resist the pretty creature who came 
 fluttering to meet her like a terrified chick. 
 Flinging herself against Miss Murdoch's 
 hard breast, Lucy gasped for help. 
 
 ' Come twick, to keep those two bad boys 
 from killing each other.'
 
 BAY RONALD. 163 
 
 Dick had just got the better of his foe, 
 and was standing triumphantly over 
 Richie's fallen body, with one foot on his 
 chest, dictating in breathless accents a 
 degrading appeal for pardon, which Richie 
 was abjectly repeating. In a trice the 
 victor found himself dragged away by 
 Miss Murdoch's lean, muscular arms, while 
 he was half blinded with blows. His 
 strength almost spent after his first battle, 
 Dick had not breath left for a second on- 
 slaught, although he instinctively kicked 
 with his strong hob-nailed boots. 
 
 'Ah, you would, would you?' was 
 shrieked in his ears. ' You young villain, 
 you have half murdered poor Richie, and 
 I'll not leave a sound inch of skin on your 
 body. Here, Betty, lead your young 
 master down to the house. Martha — help 
 me.' 
 
 The housekeeper and her hand-maiden 
 
 M 2
 
 164 BAY RONALD. 
 
 thereupon seized poor Dick by both legs 
 and arms, and carried their prisoner in 
 a frog's-march straight to Rookhurst. 
 
 But what of Miss Jennings ? The little 
 beauty had been entirely overlooked in 
 these proceedings, and now ran piteously 
 after Miss Murdoch, plucking her gown 
 and pleading for mercy for Dick. At the 
 side door she fluttered before Martha and 
 her mistress, they being breathless what 
 between Dick's weight and his struggles, 
 so that Miss Murdoch nearly tripped over 
 the child. Stopping short, she freed one 
 hand to give the little girl a rough shake 
 of the shoulder, that pushed Lucy on her 
 hands and knees. Dick instantly revenged 
 the attack by butting Miss Murdoch with 
 his head in the nearest part of her 
 person. 
 
 Lucy stumbled to her feet with rasped 
 hands, and tottered away unsteadily, feel-
 
 BAY RONALD. 165 
 
 ing that tlie foundations of her world were 
 breaking up. 
 
 On hurried the frightened little maiden 
 through the stable-yard and so to the 
 out-houses beside the wood, her small 
 «hoes pattering over the brick paving, and 
 her bonnet hanging down her back. 
 
 ' Amos !' she screamed, ' Amos !' And 
 straightway into the bullocks' shed she 
 ran, to the startled amazement of the old 
 man there. 
 
 ' Have a care, Billy's loose. Lord ha' 
 mercy, what's happened?' he cried, as the 
 child clung to his smock frock, her pretty 
 face all disfigured with tears. 
 
 At Lucy's first cry a stranger, who had 
 been standing in the darkest corner of the 
 shed, hastily stepped behind some high 
 piled trusses of hay. But hearing from the 
 child's sobs that she was alone and in trou- 
 ble, next minute he left his hiding-place.
 
 166 BAY EONALD. 
 
 Lucy started on seeino^ a black-bearded 
 man with a slouched hat and rough clothes 
 bending over her and wiping away her 
 tears with a red spotted handkerchief. 
 Then she vaguely recognised him as a man 
 whom she had seen very late the evening 
 before in her uncle's stable-yard. 
 
 ' So Miss Murdoch is beating Master 
 Dick, eh?' he said, in a very gruff but 
 kindly voice. ' Well, she won't hurt him 
 much, little missy ; don't cry.' 
 
 ' She is going to tie him up and beat him 
 wis a dog-whip. She said so. And she 
 hitted me too and knocked me down,' 
 gurgled Lucy. 
 
 The stranger started. 
 
 ' Ha ! did she, the vixen ? Come alono-, 
 Amos, and see fair play. Here, little 
 missy, I'll carry you.' 
 
 Whereupon, though Lucy shrank some- 
 what from the stranger's blackavised as-
 
 BAY RONALD. 167 
 
 pect, for Dick's sake she permitted the 
 familiarity of being caught up in his arms. 
 
 Meanwhile the late combatants had been 
 borne into the premises of Rookhurst in 
 very different fashion. Richie was sup- 
 ported into the house with his bleeding 
 head under Betty's apron, and was now 
 being fondled and petted by half-a-dozen 
 abigails, eager to curry favour with Miss 
 Murdoch. The latter truly enough was 
 calling loudly for a dog-whip to Avreak 
 vengeance on Dick, whose arms were still 
 held by two maids Avho had dragged him 
 thus by her orders, into the servants'-hall. 
 
 Then the cook, who had been kitchen- 
 maid in Mrs. Saxby's time, but was now 
 promoted, stepped forward with flaming 
 face, her arms akimbo. 
 
 ' If you please, ma'am, I'll make bold 
 to ask what you mean to do to Master 
 Saxby ?'
 
 168 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' To Master Saxby ? Poor innocent, 
 we'll have to nurse him finely, for he's been 
 half murdered by this good-for-nothing 
 little villain ; and I'm going to flog him so 
 that he'll remember it till his dying day.' 
 
 Then out spoke the cook, resolved to 
 give Miss Murdoch a piece of her mind 
 though she lost her situation for it. It 
 was a burning shame, it was ! and so she 
 would say to Miss Murdoch's face, what 
 with the poor boy's father lying as they 
 knew (here a significant pause), and his 
 mother turned out of her rightful home, 
 where she and her ancestors had been born 
 and bred. As a Christian woman, the 
 cook would not stand by and see the child 
 put upon. Miss Murdoch might fetch a 
 curse upon herself for being cruel to a 
 helpless innocent, if she dare ! And so, 
 her conscience relieved, the cook flounced 
 out in a passion, back to her kitchen.
 
 BAY RONALD. 169 
 
 ' Dare !' said the housekeeper, snorting. 
 
 She was a thin, dark woman, with a 
 long face, a sallow complexion, and eye- 
 brows like strips of black fur. Now these 
 met in a frowning line, as she saw most of 
 the other servants slink superstitiously out 
 of the room. Then, her head high, mean- 
 ing to give them all a lesson, she marched 
 down the passages to the hall, Avhere some 
 whips hung on a rack. 
 
 Meanwhile, Dick rapidly reviewed the 
 situation in his own mind. It was desper- 
 ately unfair. How could he fight so 
 many ? Therefore he reasoned that discre- 
 tion was the better part, and that it was 
 ■quite honourable to meet superior force 
 with cunning. So he laid his head on the 
 table beside which he stood, as if exhausted 
 — which he pretty well was. The maids 
 still held their now quiet captive, but with 
 a relaxed and pitying grasp. His experi-
 
 170 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ence of fainting came back to Dick's mind. 
 
 ' Water,' he gasped, turning up the 
 whites of his eyes, ' please, water ! Salts T 
 
 Both let him go at once and hurried for 
 what he asked. Quick as thought, as they 
 disappeared, Dick sprang after them to the 
 door and bolted it on the inside. Escape 
 down the passages was impossible, he knew 
 that of old; but clambering on to the win- 
 dow-ledge he flung open the lattice and 
 looked out. Alas, the drop down into the 
 moat was too deep. Turning his head, he 
 perceived the cloth was laid for the ser- 
 vant's supper. Next minute he had dragged 
 it oiF, sending pewter plates and horn mugs 
 rolling wildly over the floor, and trailing 
 his prize after him, knotted it strongly 
 around one of the window bars. These 
 latter were set at about six inches apart. 
 No matter, he mu.'^t squeeze through. How 
 he ever did it was a marvel long after-
 
 BAY KONALD. 171 
 
 wards to himself and others, but somehow 
 he got his head past; then feeling caught 
 like a rat in a trap, set his teeth and 
 forced his body after, half fearing his ribs 
 were cracked. Now down his improvised 
 rope he dropped into the moat, and began 
 swimming across as bold as a water-rat. 
 
 At this very juncture out came Amos 
 and the dark man, carrying Lucy; both 
 were hurrying from the stables, followed 
 by two or three inquisitive grooms. 
 
 Another window Avas opened, and Miss 
 Murdoch craned her head out, on hear- 
 ing a splash, with angered astonish- 
 ment. Dick, standing dripping on the 
 further side of the moat, thereupon put 
 his fingers to his nose with a gesture of 
 unspeakable contempt. Next he dragged 
 a loosened brick with bruised hands from 
 the parapet, and flung it, shattering the 
 glass of a window just above where Richie's
 
 172 BAY KONALD. 
 
 white face was pressed against the panes. 
 At that Amos and the stranger retreated 
 with shaking sides into the wood. 
 
 A few minutes later, Dick, watering the 
 road as he stoutly trudged homeward, met 
 Lucy and her new henchman awaiting 
 him. The little girl still hugged his 
 jacket, but she now hugged Dick himself, 
 kissing his swollen face and poor blubber 
 lips, crying over his blackened eyes and 
 cuts. 
 
 ' Bless us all ! you two children will lay 
 the dust. Cheer up, little missy, he is not 
 hurt beyond a few scratches ; a brave boy 
 he is, too. Come now, I'll carry you home. 
 I know your uncle well, and Master Dick's 
 clothes will be dried at the captain's 
 house, and the captain's own gig shall 
 drive him to Forge Farm.' 
 
 The man's tone of authority was not to 
 be resisted. Lucy did not like his black
 
 BAY RONALD. 173 
 
 beard, it scratched lier cheek ; but present- 
 ly she cried out in the tone of one who 
 has made a strange discovery, 
 
 ' How funny ! Do you know, mister sir, 
 that you carry me just the same as my 
 uncle does.' 
 
 The man hitched her a little higher on 
 his arm, which was less comfortable, say- 
 ing with a perplexed laugh, 
 
 ' There is no great difference in the way 
 of carrying little girls. Everyone does it 
 the same.' 
 
 But Lucy thought there was. 
 
 ' You look out,' grunted Dick, presently, 
 as they approached the Laurels, vulgarly 
 called Smugley House, by the yard gate. 
 ' Captain Ratcliffe keeps a big watch-dog, 
 and he is a growler.' 
 
 Out darted the dog at that moment to 
 the end of his chain, sniffing at the 
 stranger's legs. But to the children's
 
 174 BAY KONALD. 
 
 amazement, though he barked it was with 
 a Avelcoming sound, wagging his tail. 
 
 Events fell out as the stranger prophe- 
 sied. Oddly enough Captain Ratcliffe 
 in person walked into the parlour half-an- 
 hour later, when the children were at 
 supper. He had left home in haste with 
 Philip Saxby ten days ago after the duel, 
 and the maids hardly expected him back 
 so soon. Now he sharply reproached them 
 for carelessness in allowing Miss Jennings 
 out that afternoon without a proper care- 
 taker. 
 
 And it was the captain himself who drove 
 Dick home after supper, leading the boy by 
 artful questions to give a description of 
 the fight. RatcliiFe did not express any 
 opinion, but he chuckled to himself as if 
 hugely diverted, and looked sideways at 
 Dick much as a clever fox might at a 
 promising cub.
 
 BAY KONALD. 1 75 
 
 Before departure Dick kindly allowed 
 Lucy to kiss him into reconciliation. 
 
 ' How could I help going with Richie ? 
 You know you had forgetted me for ever 
 so many days,' pleaded the little maid. 
 
 Dick allowed this was true ; still the 
 young sultan felt that, however faithless 
 himself, it behoved Lucy to await his re- 
 turning favour. Nevertheless, he made a 
 dozen promises to behave better in future, 
 if Lucy would forswear Richie's company. 
 
 The little flirt only laughed and shook 
 her curls. As if it were possible for her 
 not to be good friends with everyone. 
 Still she sweetly promised ' to try ' and not 
 go with Richie again, if Dick would be 
 sure to come instead. 
 
 ' Listen to the babes like 
 
 " Kidlings blithe and merry," ' 
 
 hummed RatcliiFe, in an undertone. '• Play
 
 176 BAY RONALD. 
 
 now, my children, wliile you can -, play-time 
 will not last long.' 
 
 Next day news of the boys' fight was 
 in every mouth, and Dick's exploit of 
 swimming the moat in escape was magni- 
 fied fifty-fold. ' 
 
 ' Who began this fight, Richard Saxby ?' 
 asked Mr. Butler thereupon, as a downcast 
 culprit approached him with a Latin 
 exercise. 
 
 ' I, sir,' said Dick. 
 
 ' Then,' replied his master, ' I am sorry 
 that it will be my duty to give you a flog- 
 ging. But you are still sore, my boy, so 
 we will put it ofi* till next week, when you 
 will be better able to bear it.' 
 
 ' Thank you, sir,' said Dick, gratefully. 
 
 And Mr. Butler kept his word.
 
 177 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Hasledene lingered on for some weeks 
 after the duel, although in a hopeless state. 
 He was a strong man, and though weary of 
 his pain found dying difficult. For the 
 most part he lay between dozing and wak- 
 ing, but when his strength allowed he 
 seemed pleased to see Mr. Butler's tall 
 figure by his bed-side ; tried to follow his 
 readings with faint ears, and moved his 
 lips in assent to his friend's prayers. 
 
 The pastor's presence in the farm during 
 that time of sorrow was like a strong man 
 bringing succour to a besieged fort. Each 
 time he came he seemed to banish the evil 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 BAY RONALD. 
 
 forces of sorrow, fears for the future, dis- 
 trust of God's will tliat besieged poor 
 Catherine. And who knew but what some 
 of the good seed sown so late during this 
 latter season had found root and sprung 
 up in the sick man's mind. 
 
 So ^ye weeks passed. Then one morn- 
 ing Hasledene's dying ears caught familiar 
 sounds from the lane outside of yoiv ! yow ! 
 yowl sounding in different bell-like notes. 
 The old huntsman of the Cranbrook hunt 
 was out riding with the pack at his heels 
 for exercise. 
 
 ' The window. Lift me up. Let me see 
 them,' murmured Hasledene. 
 
 He had grown so light that Catherine 
 and a maid easily helped him to an arm- 
 chair by the window, with a blanket 
 Avrapped about him. 
 
 The huntsman, who had stopped for news 
 of his old master at the gate, seeing the
 
 BAY KONALD. 179 
 
 night- capped head, touched his own cap. 
 The dying man's eyes brightened at the 
 sight of the moving mass of white and 
 dappled beauties outside. He was still 
 the master of the hunt, as he had been for 
 several years, and he knew every hound 
 like a friend. 
 
 ' There's old Challenger, hark to him 
 , . . and Game Boy ... Ranter,' he ^ 
 whispered, repeating their names weakly 
 under his breath. So smiling, he sank back 
 on his pillows exhausted. 
 
 They carried him back to his bed, where 
 he closed his eyes and seemed to doze. 
 After that he never spake word more, but 
 slept two days and two nights, nor ever 
 woke. Only — the third night, when it was 
 coldest towards the dawn, his breathing 
 was heard to cease. 
 
 Hasledene's end made a great stir among 
 all his neighbours and boon companions. 
 
 N 2
 
 180 BAY KONALD. 
 
 They were touched with real emotion on 
 learning this last scene and the manner of 
 his death. Why not ? A sportsman he 
 had been, a true sportsman he died. For 
 many a long year Hasledene's name and 
 fame lived green in the memories of the 
 members of the hunt, while his own old 
 cronies sighed over his loss and praised 
 his good fellowship. They felt he had 
 been one of themselves ; a type of their 
 own faults, follies, yet cheery good quali- 
 ties. Many a better man was less mourned, 
 as sometimes happens. 
 
 ' Jolly George Hasledene, game to the 
 last,' said Falconer, and the sentiment 
 became a proverb summing up the feel- 
 ings of many. 
 
 A week after the funeral. Squire Fal- 
 coner rode to Forge Farm and offered to 
 buy Bayonet in memory of his friend. 
 The price he offered was so handsome that
 
 BAY KONALD. 181 
 
 Catlierine gratefully agreed. She was 
 grieved to see the mare go, but a farmer's 
 widow had no right to so valuable an 
 animal. After that, Falconer came fre- 
 quently to the farm. 
 
 Two other hunting squires bought the 
 dead man's still remaining couple of hun- 
 ters, also for sake of Hasledene. Then, 
 €xcept Dick's old pony, Ruby, and a cob 
 which was useful to drive in the gig, there 
 were only cart horses left in the Forge 
 Farm stable. 
 
 One strange incident happened the night 
 before the funeral, which caused a super- 
 stitious thrill to run through the village 
 of Rookhurst and the Forge hamlet. This 
 was that a woman who had risen in the 
 night, to give a warm mash to a sick cow, 
 «aw a terrible sight going at a foot's pace 
 down the lane from Forge Farm towards 
 the park. It was a black mourning hearse
 
 182 BAY KONALD. 
 
 drawn by four headless black horses, and 
 driven by a white ghost. The woman 
 nearly had a fit in her fright, so that she 
 could hardly reach her own door before 
 she fell down. Such a thing had never 
 been heard of or seen thereabouts before. 
 
 The second other strange thing happened 
 at Rookhurst itself. On the day of Hasle- 
 dene's funeral, the bailiff at Rookhurst 
 desired old Amos to fetch a load of coal 
 with the oxen from the market-town. But 
 lo and behold, the four strongest beasts 
 were lying down in their stalls as if utterly 
 leg weary, and could not be persuaded to 
 rise. Of those left two were young and 
 untrained, and the pair remaining were 
 insufficient for the load. 
 
 The bailiff, who w^as new to the place, 
 was displeased and puzzled. But it showed 
 that even these dumb beasts felt their old 
 master's loss, as old Amos sourly told him,
 
 BAY KONALD. 183 
 
 and that they meant to do no work that 
 day. Whereupon the bailiff said Amos 
 Bird was a superstitious old fool, and one 
 who tried to make other people as silly as 
 himself. For Amos had a great name for 
 dispensing charms in secret against warts, 
 jaundice, and other ailments, which white 
 magic he was reputed to have been taught 
 by his own grandfather ; and that was a 
 long while ago. 
 
 After her husband's death Mrs. Saxby 
 ' took her sorrow hard,' as her humbler 
 neighbours expressed it. Her tall figure 
 was as straight as ever, only more rigid. 
 If she wept much in secret none knew it, 
 only they saw that as the weeks went by 
 neither did she come to smile again, ex- 
 cepting very rarely, and that was for her 
 son's sake. She rose early, she lay down 
 late, and ate the bread of carefulness.
 
 184 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' Is it in vain, dear lady V Mr. Butler 
 ventured one day to ask in solemn con- 
 lidential intercourse. ' " He giveth His 
 beloved sleep," without their seeking to 
 weary themselves to find it. Forgive us, 
 Lydia and me, if we have often feared 
 these past months that you cannot rest as 
 those do who are at peace in their minds.' 
 
 'What peace?' answered Catherine in 
 bitterness, vaguely quoting old Scripture, 
 half unconsciously. 'What peace with 
 him who slew his master ? I am a poor 
 woman now seated at my landlord's gates, 
 who was my tenant. How can I have 
 peace in my mind while my husband's 
 murderer is at large ?' 
 
 For Philip Saxby had come back to 
 Eookhurst. though not showing himself in 
 public for a considerable time. When he 
 did so it was with a fresh healed scar on 
 his face that would stay there till the day 
 of his death.
 
 BAY RONALD. 185 
 
 Mrs. Saxby avoided speech and even 
 sight of him like the plague. On Sundays 
 she sat with Dick still in the Saxby chapel, 
 which was nowadays one large pew ap- 
 proached by a private door. This chapel 
 was a chantry founded by Sir Walter 
 Saxby in the fifteenth century for a priest 
 to say mass in for ever. ' And being so 
 considerable a benefactor to this church/ 
 as histories of Kent recount, his figure was 
 painted in the north window kneeling, in 
 armour, with his helmet lying by him, be- 
 fore a desk with a book on it and an in- 
 scription to pray for him and his wife and 
 his son Richard and his three wives. 
 
 Many eyes in the nobly-sized old church 
 used to stray on Sundays towards that 
 corner where the widow sat lonely with 
 her boy. Above the heads of those two 
 drooped some tattered banners, while tro- 
 phies of helmets, shields, old swords, and
 
 186 BAY RONALD. 
 
 mailed gauntlets hung on tlie cliapel walls ; 
 relics of the fighting Saxbys, as the family 
 had long been called. 
 
 Philip coveted sitting in the chapel, 
 telling himself that as lord of the manor 
 such was his right, yet he dared not press 
 matters to this last extremity, fearing that 
 popular feeling would run too strongly 
 against him. 
 
 But although Mrs. Saxby went to weekly 
 service it grieved the faithful pastor of the 
 parish not to see her attend the four great 
 Church feasts of the year. Nevertheless, 
 when he pressed upon her that point Cathe- 
 rine always sighed deeply, and confessed 
 that she still could not forgive Philip Saxby, 
 so dared not approach the sacred table 
 with hatred burning in her heart. This 
 stirred Mr. Butler deeply and even more 
 his wife, who being then near dying felt 
 she could not depart in a comfortable frame
 
 BAY KONALD. 187 
 
 of mind while Cattierine was so miserable 
 and nursing rancour in her soul. For 
 these two women had been close friends- 
 from girlhood. 
 
 Several times, as Catherine daily visited 
 the rectory, the sick woman urged her to 
 forgive her enemy. At last, after alternat- 
 ing between terrible suffering and periods 
 of reviving strength, Mrs. Butler said to 
 Mrs. Saxby with solemn earnestness, 
 
 ' I fear ^ I am better to-day. No ! do not 
 congratulate me, the pain I have endured 
 has been so great that I would gladly be 
 released. Only I feel as if my suffering 
 could not come to an end until I am at ease 
 about the state of your soul. My dear 
 Kitty — I am speaking truth as a dying 
 woman — either I cannot yet go or I shall 
 die with trouble in my mind.' 
 
 Then Catherine's hard heart melted, and 
 tears came at last to her eyes that had so
 
 188 BAY KONALD. 
 
 long been dry. Weeping, she gave her 
 promise of penitence, feeling that she who 
 so craved for love in her loneliness was 
 losing one of the few who had really loved 
 her. 
 
 Meanwhile, Philip Saxby had often as- 
 sured Mr. Butler of his anxiety to atone 
 for the duel which yet he affirmed had been 
 forced upon him. He secretly had no 
 wish to gratify his cousin by keeping up 
 the quarrel. No, that did not suit his pur- 
 pose. He knew the sight of himself hurt 
 her. Well, she must learn to endure it. 
 
 So the second Christmas Day came after 
 Hasledene's death, and Catherine with 
 reverent steps approached the altar and 
 knelt down with the rest of the congrega- 
 tion. Then some one came beside her. 
 She shrank with an inward sense of repul- 
 sion, not knowing why; but, forced by 
 that strange feeling, looked round ever so
 
 BAY EONALD. 189' 
 
 little between tlie fingers she had pressed 
 over her eyes. To her consternation the 
 person who knelt by her side was — Philip 
 Saxby. At that, Catherine felt such sud- 
 den horror that she leaned forward on the 
 altar rails trembling, crying out in her 
 heart for spiritual help to strengthen her 
 penitence, good resolutions, and self-search- 
 ings of conscience. To take the sacred cup 
 after Philip Saxby was a greater trial than 
 she had supposed she would be called 
 upon to bear. Even the pastor himself 
 was startled at such juxtaposition, and his 
 voice took a deeper tone of blessing as he 
 bent over them both with the bread and 
 wine. Then a rush of exaltation filled 
 Catherine's soul, and, believing that Philip 
 Saxby by her side had been her husband's 
 tempter and despoiler, she gladly forgave 
 him with a great soundless cry. She would 
 take up her cross and bear it.
 
 190 BAY RONALD. 
 
 When the service was over and Mrs. 
 Saxby stepped out into the frosty air, the 
 solemnity and late uplifting of mind still 
 lingering upon her face, as one who had, 
 in a manner, come down from Mount 
 Sinai, she was hardly startled to see Philip 
 awaiting her. His face, always pale, 
 showed its red scar more strongly because 
 of the nipping cold. He took off his 
 beaver hat and stood bareheaded holding 
 out his hand. 
 
 ' Cousin Catherine, I am glad to know 
 that you are no longer at enmity with me. 
 Forgive me what was not my fault.' 
 
 ' I forgive you what was not your fault, 
 and what was,' answered Catherine, stead- 
 ily, but in a mechanical voice like one who 
 has learned her lesson. 
 
 ' Forgive me a//,' whispered Philip, 
 hurriedly, darting a keen look at her 
 face that still kept much of its former
 
 BAY KONALD. 191 
 
 beauty, ' I may still make full reparation/ 
 
 Catherine started as if he had struck her 
 a blow. In her confusion she could hardly 
 tell what he meant, but felt like one who 
 had seemed caught up to heavenly places 
 and as suddenly been dropped back on 
 earth again feeling jarred; a mere mortal. 
 She drew down her widow's veil and walked 
 straight and SAviftly homeward. 
 
 Philip looked queerly after her, then 
 repeated to himself as he trudged towards 
 Rookhurst, 
 
 ' What a fool I am ! Avhat a fool ! Can it 
 be true about Falconer?' 
 
 For gossip Avas rife in the neighbourhood 
 over Squire Falconer's frequent visits to 
 Forge Farm. He rode by there daily, and 
 stopped on the least pretext. He had been 
 a rejected lover at the time of Catherine 
 Saxby's marriage, so people reminded each 
 other. He was so now a second time,
 
 192 BAY RONALD. 
 
 only none knew this but himself and Mrs. 
 Saxby. 
 
 ' You will let me come and visit you 
 here still,' begged the unfortunate wooer. 
 ' That will put the gossiping dowagers off 
 the scent. By George, what a scandal- 
 loving pack they are.' 
 
 Hunting similes came readily to Fal- 
 coner's lips, for he was chosen master of 
 the neighbouring hounds after Hasledene's 
 death. He was a big man with yellow 
 hair, though now somewhat bald, had a 
 ruddy face, long nose, and mutton-chop 
 whiskers. He owned likewise a fair in- 
 come and a square moderately-sized house, 
 ugly but comfortable. It was not much 
 compared with Rookhurst, he deprecatingly 
 pleaded, but still more genteel than Forge 
 Farm : while as to Dick, he felt towards 
 him like a father. Yet Catherine shrank 
 from the proposal with a fastidious shudder.
 
 BAY RONALD. 193 
 
 What ! take him for her wedded husband 
 after ' handsome Hasledene ' ? It was im- 
 possible. So she simply and kindly 
 thanked Mr. Falconer, saying she had no 
 heart for other duties in life than to care 
 for her boy's upbringing and strive to 
 make both ends meet. 
 
 This last was no easy task during two 
 years, for the year 1800 was long known 
 afterwards as the ' dear year,' when, to 
 quote one who has well described it, ' war, 
 famine, and tumult went hand in hand. 
 And that summer the harvest fields were 
 thin and the quartern loaf cost three shil- 
 lings.' There were bread riots in the towns, 
 starving crowds fighting because mad- 
 dened with hunger. Out here in the 
 country, thank God, things were better ; 
 still there was much distress around, and 
 Catherine pinched herself sorely to relieve 
 the wants of all who had been used to 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 BAY RONALD. 
 
 come to her for help in better days. 
 
 Now to return to Dick for a while. The 
 hoy missed his father terribly at first, then 
 the new. busy life on the farm began to 
 occupy him, and his own pleased sense of 
 urgent duties, as soon as lessons were over, 
 in feeding and watering the horses, and 
 lesser cares of dogs, pigs, and poultry, left 
 small time for grief. 
 
 He and Richie had made up their quar- 
 rel soon enough, at Mr. Butler's desire. 
 Dick never bore malice ; besides, he had 
 felt himself conqueror, being glorified into 
 a little hero among his own farm labour- 
 ers, as also the old Rookhurst dependents ; 
 while Captain Ratclifi*e's grooms and 
 hangers-on noAv touched their caps to him 
 to a man. It was a harder task for Richie, 
 still the latter, as Mr. Butler believed, was 
 not a bad though a weak lad in body and 
 character. He had no wish to be on ill
 
 BAY RONALD. 195 
 
 terms with anyone, even Dick, so lie art- 
 lessly told the rector, shaking hands with 
 his cousin thereupon, almost too readily 
 in the latter's secret opinion. 
 
 ' What's the use of quarrelling ? We 
 can't help it if our fathers did,' Richie went 
 on, with wisdom beyond his years. ' I'll 
 have Rookhurst some day, and you'll get 
 Forge Farm. Well, and what does it 
 matter?' 
 
 Dick in his heart thought it mattered 
 a .great deal ; but on such terms the two 
 boys grew up during the following years. 
 
 o
 
 196 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Only one other note-worthy incident oc- 
 curred the third winter after Hasledene's 
 death. Dick, being now thirteen, and tall 
 and strong of his age, with a merry honest 
 face that won all hearts, used to go out 
 hunting whenever he could beg a half 
 holiday from the rector. He might have 
 taken leave, it is to be feared, more often, 
 but that old Ruby, his pony, was not fit 
 now for more than two days a week. 
 
 At last there happened a run that Dick 
 never forgot to the day of his death. It 
 was a damp, dark, delightful November 
 afternoon, with a drop of moisture hang-
 
 BAY KONALD. 197 
 
 tng on every bare twig, a hazy grey pall 
 of mugginess over the landscape, and a 
 burning scent. 
 
 There was a good field out, but the 
 morning afforded but poor sport, one 
 covert being drawn blank, while their fox 
 was chopped in a second. A third time is 
 the charm, as the old saying goes. Fal- 
 coner in disgust had taken his hounds to 
 Buckhurst Wood. 
 
 ' They'll find here, I know,' said Jim 
 Lee, Ratcliffe's second horseman, trotting 
 along the lane beside Dick ; and he pro- 
 ceeded to give that youngster some friend- 
 ly advice as to the line of country the fox 
 was sure to take, to which Dick listened 
 with, greedy ears, for Jim Lee's knowledge 
 of the country round was hardly second to 
 that of the huntsman. 
 
 Now all were draAvn up outside the 
 covert waiting; listening with intensest
 
 198 BAY RONALD. 
 
 attention for tlie faintest whimper from 
 tlie hounds, that only betrayed their pres- 
 ence among the evergreens and under- 
 growth by the occasional snapping of a 
 bough. 
 
 All at once a sharp halloo burst on their 
 ears ; its sound thrilled through every 
 frame. There came the quick notes of 
 a horn from the far corner of the wood, 
 and then they were all off like wild fire, 
 galloping, clattering, bustling their best, 
 each striving to get a good start ; every 
 heart bounding ; their veins tingling ; 
 though no one guessed the treat that was 
 in store. 
 
 Five and twenty minutes they went 
 without a check over sodden grass pas- 
 tures, and little Dick, to his joy and thanks 
 to Jim Lee's sagacity, found himself with 
 some half-score of horsemen in the first 
 flight. Five and twenty minutes ! and the
 
 BAY EONALD. 199 
 
 pace was beginning to tell upon tlie stout 
 old New Forest pony, who was urged 
 along at its utmost speed. Ruby could 
 do no more than his best, like all of us, 
 and was labouring along slower now under 
 his rider, with sobbing breath and short- 
 ened stride. But his young master took 
 no heed of these signals of distress as the 
 dappled beauties in front still kept flitting 
 over every held, vanishing through each 
 fence only to appear again like a white 
 cloud on the grass. 
 
 'Tally ho!' he screamed, with all the 
 strength of his school-boy lungs. For the 
 ground now rose beyond in a fairly steep 
 ploughed slope, and his quick eyes had 
 espied, two fields away, a small reddish 
 object dragging slowly upwards by the 
 side of a hedge. The hounds, too, saw that 
 weary fox; their white sterns were vanish- 
 ing through the last intervening hedge.
 
 200 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Then they were straining forward eager- 
 ly ; actually racing as they thirsted for 
 blood. 
 
 Only two fences between himself and 
 the pack ! In a very delirium of excite- 
 ment Dick urged his old pony forward at 
 the next one, a small ditch with a wide 
 broad bank above. A loud halloo struck 
 his ear in Squire Falconer's well-known 
 stentorian tones. At that supposed sound 
 of encouragement Dick turned his head, 
 his boyish face flushing with pride, and 
 waved his whip triumphantly. The lad 
 never noticed that Falconer, the huntsman, 
 Captain RatclifFe, and two more of the field 
 were all bearing to the left after that loud 
 shout of intended warning. These veterans 
 all knew that fence too well. 
 
 ' Come on. Ruby, come on !' Dick patted 
 his little steed's neck, and cheered him 
 with his voice.
 
 BAY RONALD. 201 
 
 The gallant pony, catching his master's 
 fever of excitement, seemed to gather up 
 his fast waning strength, putting his heart 
 into the eiFort. Jumping pluckily he 
 landed well on the wide but rotten bank. 
 Alas ! only to see a far bigger ditch now 
 yawning beneath. 
 
 Dick's blood was in a flame, his brain 
 dizzy with ardour. Digging his spurs into 
 Ruby's sides, he held his head straight at 
 the obstacle. Never in the ten years of 
 his hfe had Ruby refused to answer his 
 young master's call. His blood was up 
 too. He tried to kick off, but had no pur- 
 chase on the crumbling bank, and though 
 he jumped gallantly, landing with his 
 forelegs on the edge of the ditch, he could 
 do no more. 
 
 There was a groan. A brown huddled 
 mass fell back into the ditch ; and four 
 shining horse-shoes were turned upwards,
 
 202 BAY RONALD. 
 
 quivering, as if vainly trying to beat the 
 empty air. 
 
 No more, old Ruby, no more shall your 
 strong, clean legs cross the Kentish pas- 
 tures ; no more shall your young master 
 urge you forward with cheery voice and 
 boyish ardour. Those hooves cease to 
 move, the stout heart knows its end. There 
 follows the dying moan of ahorse — another 
 — the most pitiful sound, surely, to human 
 ears that the animal creation can produce. 
 Now the limp mass rolls over on its side ; 
 a strong shudder passes through all the 
 muscles under the glossy skin ; and then 
 — then, with his back broken, good Ruby 
 has seen indeed his last run with the hounds 
 he loved so well, and is gone wdiere all 
 good ponies go. 
 
 Dick had been thrown clear into the 
 next held, and in picking himself up felt 
 dazed for a few moments. Recovering his
 
 BAY RONALD. 203 
 
 wits he gave a hasty look at the far mea- 
 dow where the hounds were nearing fast 
 and faster yet their much-coveted prey. 
 Next he scrambled furiously down into the 
 ditch and tugged hard at Ruby's bridle. 
 
 ' Hi ! come up ! We shall be in at the 
 death still. Hi ! Ruby, I say. Why f 
 
 Strange that his favourite never stirred. 
 Ruby's eyes were oddly glassy ; his ears 
 did not prick on hearing his master's well- 
 known voice. In vain Dick called him by 
 name, rubbed his cold ears. Then, with 
 youthful wisdom, he argued that having 
 once fainted himself why should not Ruby 
 do the same. So he hastily begrimed his 
 new black hunting- cap, fouling it in the 
 muddy ditch to get enough water to be 
 splashed on the pony's muzzle. No signs 
 of life still ; this was extraordinary. Then 
 Dick grew frightened, and putting his 
 arms round Ruby's neck, fairly hugged 
 him while he burst out crying.
 
 204 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Presently a hoarse human croak sound- 
 ed overhead ; a man's figure darkened the 
 sky-line on the edge of the ditch. 
 
 Looking up, Dick saw a miserably-clad, 
 shock-haired, and under-sized specimen of 
 humanity. This was a vagabond whom he 
 remembered to have noticed loafing about 
 the covert near Buckhurst Wood. He 
 was called Weasel Joey ; a rascal who was 
 reputed to rob hen-roosts at most times, 
 and to poach at others. 
 
 ' Hi, you there !' cried the boy. ' Can 
 you get some men to help my pony out 
 of this ditch ? He has hurt himself. If 
 you do, I will see you well paid afterwards 
 at Forge Farm. I am Master Saxby,' (this 
 haughtily). 
 
 ' Hurt himself! He, he, he !' The man 
 sat down on the edge of the ditch and 
 peered over at its occupant, dangling his 
 legs. ' Yes, the pony has hurt himself, 
 sure-/?//
 
 BAY RONALD. 205 
 
 ' Be quick ! Look sharp ! Do you 
 mean to bring help or not?' 
 
 ' I'll get the knacker's cart. You'll let 
 me have the pony for all he'll fetch, young 
 master, for my trouble like. Times are 
 hard.' This with a whine. 
 
 ' The knacker's cart ? Wretch, what do 
 you mean ?' 
 
 ' I mean that he's broke his back. He's 
 dead ; dead as your father.' 
 
 Next instant Weasel Joey pulled his 
 legs up and retreated in rapid apprehen- 
 sion before Dick's onslaught. The boy's blue 
 eyes literally blazed with fury ; his face 
 grew crimson as he sprang forward brand- 
 ishing his hunting-whip. Young though 
 he was, his aspect was so furious that the 
 Weasel was actually intimidated for the 
 moment. 
 
 But Dick's anger died as quickly as the 
 sudden fire had leapt up. Dropping back
 
 206 BAY RONALD. 
 
 against the side of the ditch, he broke down 
 suddenly into a very storm of sobs that 
 shook his body. It seemed too hideous to 
 be true. What? dead! Not really dead ! 
 Dear Ruby, who had been his favourite so 
 many years, had carried him so well and 
 faithfully ; used to whinny even at the 
 sound of Dick's step, let alone his voice. 
 Never again to see him in the stall at home 
 turning his brown head and bright eyes at 
 his master's pat ! — and ridden to death by 
 himself, Dick. The boy felt almost the 
 remorse of a murderer. 
 
 Then came the terrible thought of break- 
 ing the news to his mother. How she 
 would stand tall and silent wrinkling her 
 forehead ; then just sigh to herself deeply 
 and say, ' My boy ; my poor boy ! And I 
 cannot afford to buy you another pony. I 
 wish I could.' 
 
 At this mental picture Dick's grief burst
 
 BAY RONALD. 207 
 
 out afresli ; he bowed his head on his 
 pony's mane, while tears fell in fast drops 
 down its coarse black hairs. 
 
 At last he roused himself. Taking off 
 the saddle and bridle with difficulty, but 
 a dogged perseverance that told of English 
 pluck and resolve not to be beaten, he 
 staggered with his burden up the bank 
 prepared to trudge homeward some six 
 wet weary miles. 
 
 Our youngster had only taken a few 
 steps over the wet plough when his feet 
 seemed already to stick. In his present mis- 
 erable and half-hearted state he felt no 
 great desire to hasten homeward ; on the 
 contrary, it seemed a cruel thing to leave 
 his dead four-footed friend behind there — 
 alone ; and a grey crow that was hopping 
 over the furrows near kept twisting its 
 head in an evil way on one side. Dick 
 scared it away, but it only flew a few
 
 208 BAY KONALD. 
 
 yards further, bent on sidling towards the 
 ditch as soon as he had turned his back. 
 
 ' Master, I say, young master !' came in 
 a whine from behind. 
 
 Weasel Joey had appeared from some 
 lurking place along the ditch-side, and was 
 now following Dick. He came shambling 
 on, something after an Irish bog-trotter's 
 fashion, while beating his hands in a tattoo 
 on his chest to warm himself, for a fine 
 drizzling rain had now begun to fall. 
 
 ' I say. Master Saxby — listen, young 
 master — won't yer stop a minute ? I'll 
 carry home that there saddle and bridle 
 for you, if you'll let me ; I will. Come^ 
 sir, I say ; give a poor man a job. I haven't 
 broken my fast since yesterday morning, 
 s'elp me Gawd.' 
 
 ' No, I won't,' Dick threw back over his 
 shoulder. ' Leave me alone, will you. I'll 
 carry them myself.'
 
 BAY RONALD. 209 
 
 Dick was heading towards a gate at 
 the far side of the field, which he hoped 
 might lead into a lane. He had reached 
 the middle of the ploughed field presently 
 without being able to shake off his ape-like 
 tormentor, who kept sidling up, now on 
 this side of him, now on that; dogging 
 him with exasperating pertinacity. Just 
 in the middle of the plough Joey grew 
 bolder, having satisfied himself by wary 
 glances that they two were absolutely 
 alone. The hounds and field had swept 
 out of sight over the crest of the slope, 
 and in the brown expanse around, bounded 
 by black wintry hedges and ditches, there 
 was not a sign of life to be seen except a 
 few rooks cawing their way homewards 
 across the grey dripping sky. 
 
 Suddenly Dick felt a tug at the bridle, 
 which he was carrying on his left arm ; 
 only that the reins were wrapped round his 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 BAY RONALD. 
 
 wrist lie would have lost it. In sudden 
 rage lie turned sharp round at that, slash- 
 ing at the Weasel's legs with his hunting- 
 whip. The latter danced with pain and 
 burst out into ready curses, though keep- 
 ing out of the way of any further ad- 
 monition. 
 
 ' 111 be even with you, you young cock- 
 erell ; I will. Ah, you take after your 
 father, who once sentenced me for three 
 months hard, and who is gone to a hotter 
 place himself. I'll be even ' 
 
 He made a sudden rush. 
 
 But quick as thought Dick's whijD met 
 the Weasel half way in his attack. It fell 
 upon the latter's face, leaving a long, livid 
 mark and fairly beating him back. Joey 
 retreated out of reach once more, then 
 stood and poured forth a black flood of 
 curses from lips on which he was actu- 
 ally churning foam like a wild boar.
 
 BAY RONALD. 211 
 
 Dick, school-boy like, took a lively in- 
 terest in surveying the beggar working 
 himself into such a towering wax. He 
 thought the spectacle slightly disgusting, 
 but was by no means appalled. What 1 
 The fellow dare not really attack him 
 further. Master Saxby of Forge Farm. 
 He required to be taught a lesson by his 
 betters, and shown how to keep his place. 
 
 But even while Dick so reflected Weasel 
 Joey, ending his expletives Avith a hoarse 
 scream of rage, cried out, 
 
 ' Give me over that there saddle and 
 bridle, I tell you, you whelp. Give up — 
 and make no more parley about it, or 
 I'll wring your blessed young neck.' 
 
 ' You daren't. You'd swing for it,' re- 
 torted Dick, curtly and defiantly. 
 
 ' Swing ! He, he, he !' and the Weasel 
 ke^^t dodging around in a suspicious 
 manner in a wide circle. ' Swing ! Not I 
 
 p2
 
 ^12 BAY KONALD. 
 
 — I'll chuck yer little body in that there 
 ditch, so I will, alongside of yer pony. 
 Who's to know that you weren't killed in 
 the fall same as he was ? I'll put back 
 the saddle and bridle again, I tell yer. So 
 long as I get my revenge on you, they don't 
 matter.' And the Weasel's fingers clawed 
 the air in an unpleasant manner, clearly 
 betokening to Dick what his fate might be 
 if once they got within visiting acquaint- 
 ance of his own windpipe. ' Then I'll run 
 all the way to Forge Farm, I will ; and 
 I'll get a reward for finding the corpse from 
 your fine lady mother. 0, she'll pay me, 
 never fear — she'll pay me !' 
 
 The Weasel kept edging around lashing 
 himself into still greater fury, the while 
 cowardice prevented him from rushing in 
 on Dick and Avresting the whip from the 
 latter 's hands. Dick read murder in the 
 fellow's blood-shot eyes ; he heard it, and
 
 BAY RONALD. 213 
 
 shivered for all his pluck, in the cold malice 
 with which the Weasel now hissed out his 
 threats. 
 
 At ten years old Ruby was a veteran in 
 equine experience ; at thirteen his master 
 was still almost a child, but instinct helped 
 the lad to know that now he was in danger. 
 The conviction was borne in upon his 
 astonished mind that the Weasel did not 
 care a jot whether Dick was a gentleman's 
 son or not ; likewise that the fellow was 
 fool enough not to be stopped by any ter- 
 rors of what might justly happen to him- 
 self if he carried out his apparent intention. 
 
 The Weasel now ceased moving back- 
 wards and forwards like a wild animal 
 watching its prey and afraid to strike. A 
 short parley ensued. 
 
 ' For the last time of asking, hand me 
 over that^saddle and bridle, boy.' 
 
 * Here they are. Why don't you come
 
 214 BAY EONALD. 
 
 and take them ?' was the scornful retort. 
 
 Dick was uncertain what was the best 
 course to pursue, but thought a few taunts 
 could do no harm, while he rapidly turned 
 over the situation in his mind. 
 
 ' Put them down, I tell you, just this 
 onst more, or by — ' There followed an 
 awful invocation in witness of the fate that 
 would be in store if Dick showed further 
 obstinacy. 
 
 ' Stop that row. I am going to put them 
 down. Will that please you? Now 
 then !' 
 
 Dick dropped the saddle from his 
 shoulder, having concluded that it was 
 best to disembarrass himself of this heavy 
 baggage in view of a sudden atttack from 
 the enemy. Next instant he had taken up 
 a defensive position, standing on guard over 
 his property. 
 
 Both combatants watched each other^
 
 BAY RONALD. 215 
 
 eye meeting eye. The Weasel drew him- 
 self together as if making ready for a rush ; 
 still he did not stir. Five — ten minutes 
 passed. The pause became terribly long 
 to Dick, Avho could feel his heart beating 
 with a steady thump against his ribs. 
 ^ Ah! You would ^ would you T 
 A sudden move on the part of the enemy. 
 He had dashed forward, but as quickly 
 darted back out of reach. Again the same 
 stratagem was attempted, and once again. 
 These feints were meant to draw Dick away 
 from the coveted prize, by tempting him 
 into rash pursuit over the sticky ground, 
 when the vagabond judged he would have 
 the best of it. But young Saxby was not 
 to be outwitted, and stood fast. 
 
 A few more dodges, and the Weasel saw 
 it was time to begin fresh tactics. He 
 tried to turn Dick's flank and attack him 
 in the rear. Running round in a circle
 
 216 BAY RONALD. 
 
 just out of reach of the whip, he would 
 suddenly stop and double back upon his 
 tracks. Dick kept turning and facing him, 
 well enough used, thanks to games with 
 other boys, to this manoeuvre. But after 
 a while the smaller circle he himself de- 
 scribed made him quite giddy. Once he 
 caught his foot in the bridle he had flung 
 down, and felt a first fear that turned him 
 rather sick for a moment. If he went 
 down, the Weasel would be upon him in 
 a jiffy. Kicking the bridle out of his way 
 Dick recovered himself, however, not daring 
 to take his eyes for an instant off that 
 crouching figure like a human wolf, while he 
 cracked his whip vigorously in sharp rating. 
 Should he offer to buy his safety on 
 dishonourable terms ? The thought was in 
 Dick's mind for a full half minute, then 
 he discarded it. No use ! he dare not 
 waste his breath on words, far less at
 
 BAY RONALD. 217 
 
 tempt a halloo for help. At the first 
 sound, instinct told him Joey would rush 
 in regardless of consequences. Just as 
 Dick's whip-lash curled once more through 
 the air, Joey bounded forward quick as 
 lightning, catching the cord, though it cut 
 his fingers like a knife blade. Then with 
 a savage howl of joy he worked forward 
 hand over hand. 
 
 Dick dropped the useless crop and in- 
 stantly delivered a right and left in the 
 enemy's face that drove him back a foot 
 or two. Next moment, however, the Wea- 
 sel's arms were flung about him, and the 
 boy was fighting like a wild cat for dear 
 life. Never in foot-ball had he kicked so 
 fiercely; scuffled, wrestled. His teeth 
 were clenched, while the hair of his head 
 rose with a pricking sensation, and his 
 breath, like that of the Weasel, escaped 
 from his breast in sobs.
 
 218 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Lust for blood possessed the Weasel's 
 wretched soul. He was fighting because 
 he loathed this pink and white faced in- 
 nocent of a school-boy who had jeered 
 him ; this brat of gentlefolk's breed, for- 
 sooth ! But he had got him now. In 
 another minute or two he would wring his 
 neck like that of a rabbit. 
 
 Dick was getting dazed ; his breath go- 
 ing ; his chest hollow ; his muscles grow- 
 ing feebler. Even as he struggled, the 
 thought came to him he must be game to 
 the last — but only a few more seconds, and 
 then all would be up with him. 
 
 There came the soft thud, thud, of a 
 horse galloping down upon them. Neither 
 boy nor man heard it as locked together 
 they swayed in a deadly tussle. 
 
 The horse pulled up. A gruff voice 
 thundered in their ears, 
 
 ' What's up here ? Stop, both, I tell
 
 BAY RONALD. 219 
 
 you. Hands off, Weasel, you devil ; hands 
 oiF the boy there, I say, or I'll kill you 
 myself.' 
 . Gasping, the combatants fell back.
 
 220 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Feeling truly enough that lie had just 
 been snatched from instant death, Dick 
 looked up to recognise in the rider his 
 friend Jim Lee. 
 
 ' Hands off yourself, Staymaker,' growl- 
 ed Joey, like a wild beast scared from its 
 prey, while his lips rose in a snarl, show- 
 ins; two long* canine teeth. 
 
 Then followed some quick sentences 
 uttered in what sounded unintelligible 
 gibberish to Dick's ears. Whether it was 
 Romany or thieves' patter used by tinkers 
 and tramps he could not guess, but evi-
 
 BAY RONALD. 221 
 
 dently Jim understood it and was influ- 
 enced thereby. 
 
 ' Now then, Master Saxby,' said he, 
 turning to Dick, ' what's your story as to 
 this scrimmage ? Weasel Joey here says 
 that you struck him first with your hunt- 
 ing-whip, and all he had offered was to 
 help carry your saddle home, and though 
 he's only a poor man he's got his feelings, 
 but that you lashed him across the face in 
 a most on warrantable way.' 
 
 At this Dick's eyes got bigger. Some- 
 what indignant at Jim's easy gulHbility, 
 he hotly declared that the Weasel had at- 
 tempted to steal his saddle. This Joey 
 denied with a volley of oaths. It was a 
 fair fight, he declared, and Jim Lee had 
 no call to interfere. 
 
 Dick marvelled in his heart that Jim, 
 being a gentleman's servant, and Captain 
 Katclifi'e's head man besides, should sit in
 
 222 BAY EONALD. 
 
 his saddle with pursed lips and frowning 
 brow like a Solomon in judgment. What! 
 flashed out the boy, was not his word 
 better than that of a mere tramp ? 
 
 Kicking his feet out of the stirrups, Jim 
 Lee now quickly swung himself to the 
 ground. 
 
 ' I'll take care of these anyway,' he ob- 
 served, picking up the disputed saddle and 
 bridle. ' What's more, as you say it was 
 a fair fight, Weasel, you've both had a good 
 round and want breathing. Now, Master 
 Dick, see here. I'll stand by and see 
 fair play, if you like to have another turn. 
 But it must be fair boxing, mind you, Joey. 
 If you give the boy a foul blow, I'll knock 
 you down myself. Well, Master Saxby, 
 are you man enough to tackle him ?' 
 
 Dick snorted. 
 
 ' Let me take my coat off first,' he said, 
 by Avay of reply.
 
 BAY RONALD. 223 
 
 Whereupon very coolly handing Jim 
 his hunting finery, that was now sorely 
 muddy and even split on one shoulder, 
 the young gentleman rolled up his shirt- 
 sleeves. 
 
 ' Yah !' sneered the Weasel. ' His 
 mammy'll beat him if he bursts his jacket.' 
 
 He dared not take off his own coat, for 
 he had nought else next his skin except a 
 silk handkerchief, filched as it hung from 
 the pocket of one of the gentlemen out 
 hunting and stuffed in its present hiding- 
 place for greater security. 
 
 ' Come on !' said Dick, coolly, throwing 
 himself into a fine boxer's attitude. A 
 drubbing he did not fear, even if he got 
 it now. Jim would see there was no 
 murder. 
 
 ' Time's up !' called Jim ; and at it the 
 two foes went again. 
 
 They were not so unequal in size as may
 
 224 BAY ROXALD. 
 
 be supposed, fur Dick's adversary was only 
 five feet four in height, and though he had 
 the muscles of a man he was underfed and 
 chicken-hearted. The boy, on the other 
 hand, thanks to the kick-and-cuff schooling 
 he enjoyed among his rectory companions, 
 besides weekly scuffles with all the lads on 
 the village-green, was in capital training. 
 He was as lively as a young eel, and his 
 high spirits reviving made him look upon 
 the encounter as a bit of fun. Besides, he 
 felt elated with pride to think that Jim 
 Lee would tell all the hunt whips and 
 second horsemen how pluckily Master 
 Saxby had tackled a grown man. 
 
 Now the sparring began. Agile as a 
 monkey, Dick kept moving his companion 
 about till the Weasel mistakenly supposed 
 the boy afraid. At that, getting filled with 
 bluster, Joey grew rash and began hitting 
 out too confidently. Dick leapt nimbly to
 
 BAY RONALD. 225 
 
 one side und delivered a rapid blow that 
 made Joey feel as if tfie wind was sud- 
 denly knocked out of him. Before he could 
 recover himself, Dick planted a right and 
 left so scientifically in the other's face that 
 Jim roared out an enthusiastic ' Brayvo V 
 At this the Weasel's temper got the upper- 
 hand, and he made sudden rushes after 
 the boy in spite of Jim's loudly jeering 
 recommendations to ' Take it easy, Weasel; 
 there ain't no hurry !' 
 
 All three were entirely absorbed in the 
 fray; Jim as much as the others, standing 
 watch in hand while trying to soothe the 
 impatient horse he was holding. Once 
 Joey got at Dick, landing a blow that made 
 the boy's ears sing and his eyes see red 
 mist for some seconds. Nevertheless, he 
 recovered himself and was still full of cour- 
 age when Jim suddenly called out, with a 
 professional air, 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' Time's up, gentlemen ; time, there.' 
 
 As he ceased speaking, all three be- 
 came aware for the first time that they 
 were not alone. Several horsemen were 
 riding across the field towards them. Like 
 a thunder-clap upon the ears of the two 
 men fell the angry voice of the master 
 himself. 
 
 ' What is the meaning of this disgrace- 
 ful scene ? Young Dick Saxby (by this ! 
 and by that !) fighting a low-lived ruffian ! 
 Whose servant are you, sir, who dare 
 stand by and encourage that cowardly 
 rascal ? Explain at once, or (by that ! 
 and by this !) I'll horsewhip you myself.' 
 
 ' He is my groom, Mr. Falconer,' blandly 
 interposed Ratcliffe in his cold clear ac- 
 cents, looking, nevertheless, black as thun- 
 der at his offending servant. ' The fellow 
 generally speaks the truth ; that much I 
 can answer for him, if you'll be good
 
 BAY RONALD. 227 
 
 enough to hear Avhat he has to say.' For 
 Falconer was grumbling and asking a 
 score of questions all in a breath. 
 
 ' It was a fair fight, Squire Falconer and 
 gentlemen all,' said Black Jim, doggedly, 
 touching his cap. ' Master Saxby, here, 
 thought he could give Weasel Joey a 
 lesson ; and Weasel, he thought that Mas- 
 ter Saxby had wronged him.' Whereupon 
 he recounted the matter, though to Dick's 
 amazement Jim apparently seemed to be- 
 lieve that Weasel had simply ofi*ended by 
 pressing unasked for services upon the 
 young master. Reprimanded nevertheless 
 for allowing so unfair a contest, Jim en- 
 thusiastically assured Squire Falconer 
 that Master Saxby was a match for any 
 man of Joey's size ; leastways, the young 
 gentleman had made such a good attempt 
 that Jim would have deplored interference 
 any earlier. 
 
 q2
 
 228 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Dick heard, but could not speak just 
 yet. He had been fairly exhausted when 
 the riders came up, and now felt so giddy 
 he could hardly keep his feet. With a 
 sense of gratitude he found himself sup- 
 ported by RatclifFe's arm and resting 
 against the latter, while his heart beat like 
 a slow sledge-hammer. Some one of the 
 iield gave him weak bran dy-and- water 
 from a flask. All of them enthusiastically 
 applauded the young hero, as they called 
 him. 
 
 Come to himself, Dick told his own un- 
 varnished tale. Naturally he was instant- 
 ly believed, although the Weasel kept 
 interrupting him with protests of inno- 
 cence as to any intended theft. 
 
 ' Tie the fellow's hands up, and fasten 
 him to somebody's stirrup. We'll trot him 
 to the "King's Arms," eh, gentlemen?" 
 remarked Falconer, in grim pleasantry.
 
 BAY RONALD. 229 
 
 Two of the whips thereupon collared the 
 wretched Joey in spite of his entreaties 
 for mercy. Dick felt it was not the least 
 of his emotions that memorable day when 
 he understood with loathing pity that his 
 «nemy was being hurried to the nearest 
 village, there to be given in charge of a 
 constable and thence haled to prison. 
 
 ' Please, Mr. Falconer, let him oiF. I 
 ^ave him a thrashing ; indeed I did ; and 
 that ought to be enough,' he generously 
 implored, going up to Falconer and laying 
 his hand on the latter's bridle. 
 
 But Dick's pleadings were pooh-poohed, 
 by the unanimous decision of all the gen- 
 tlemen present. 
 
 ' Captain, speak for me. Won't you 
 speak for me?' cried Weasel, addressing 
 Eatcliffe Avhile grovelling and cringing. 
 
 ' Not I. You are a dastardly coward to 
 attack a boy of that age, who was alone
 
 230 BAY RONALD. 
 
 and unprotected. You richly deserve 
 your punishment. Here, Jim, do you take 
 charge of him,' was RatclifFe's frowning 
 reply. 
 
 As Jim obeyed his master's behests, 
 some whisperings in the same gibberish 
 they had formerly used, rapidly passed 
 between the captive and the captain's stud 
 groom. A sullen and resigned look came 
 upon Joey's loAvering face, and he offered 
 no more resistance to his fate. 
 
 The cause of Falconer's appearance was 
 as follows. They had run into their fox 
 at the top of the slope, where the little 
 animal made a gallant end among the 
 clamouring pack. Rain was coming on, 
 nevertheless some of the hunt hoped that 
 the master would have tried to give them 
 another run that afternoon. But Falconer 
 secretly felt anxious about Dick, and kept 
 hesitating.
 
 BAY EONALD. 231 
 
 ' You see,' he explained to Ratcliffe, 
 confidentially, ' the last time I saw young 
 Saxby, the boy was riding at that fence at 
 the foot of the slope that none of us cared 
 to tackle. If it were anyone but a child, I 
 would not turn back ; but, you see, he is 
 
 George Hasledene's son and ' Ratcliffe 
 
 smiled, understanding that Dick was also 
 Catherine Saxby 's heir. 
 
 Feeling that he was doing a very kind, 
 even extraordinary action, the master 
 partly apologised to the rest. These 
 smothered their private feelings or feigned 
 cheerful assent to the M.F.H's. intentions. 
 So after some delay, caused by giving 
 directions to the huntsman, they walked 
 their horses leisurely back by a track 
 leading through some gates ; and it was 
 only when some one caught sight of the 
 strange group in the field that any real 
 apprehension was felt for Dick's safety.
 
 232 BAY RONALD. 
 
 The boy was now cheered, petted, and 
 altogether made much of. Squire Falconer 
 lent hhn his own second horse, but before 
 he mounted, Dick turned with wistful blue 
 eyes to his patron and asked, almost 
 crying, 
 
 ' Would you kindly give orders to have 
 my pony buried, sir ? I do not hke the 
 idea of leaving him in the ditch there. 
 You see he was my only one. I've ridden 
 him these four years.' 
 
 Falconer promised this pityingly. 
 
 ' Never mind about his being your only 
 one, my boy. Look ye here : I'll appoint 
 you my extra whip, and I'll mount you 
 from this day, every time your mother 
 gives you leave to hunt.' 
 
 So, feeling somewhat comforted and very 
 grand, Dick rode home like a man among 
 men. 
 
 Some days later, strolling up to the
 
 BAY RONALD. 233 
 
 Laurels and betaking himself, as often 
 happened, to the stables, he there found 
 Jim Lee alone. They two discussed the 
 recent fight, Jim criticising, but on the 
 whole applauding. 
 
 ' By the way, Jim, what was that queer 
 name the Weasel called you ? Don't you 
 remember ? Why, yes : he said once to 
 you " Staymaker." What did it mean ?' 
 
 Jim, who was polishing a bit, stopped 
 work and drew himself up slightly offend- 
 ed. He allowed himself to be pacified, 
 however, on Dick's assurances that he 
 meant no harm. 
 
 ' It's a bad name, you see. Master Dick. 
 Not that it means anything at all but just 
 impudence. Now see here,' and Jim 
 brought his face down on a level Avith that 
 of his boyish interlocutor, ' as between 
 man and man,' (Dick felt highly flattered 
 and swelled his chest,) ' I am inwardly
 
 234 BAY RONALD. 
 
 persuaded that I saved your life that day, 
 and you hnoiv it. So I ask you to promise, 
 as a gentleman, that you'll tell no one you 
 heard that word, for I don't like it. Just 
 you forget all about it.' 
 
 Dick promised, and went so far that he 
 even did obey Jim by forgetting entirely 
 the appellation in a year or two. Long 
 afterwards it came faintly back to his 
 mind, puzzling him as to where and when 
 he could have heard it. 
 
 But with this we need not concern our- 
 selves at present.
 
 235 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 More years have gone by; more years 
 revolving like the turn of a great wheel. 
 To the elders they seemed each much like 
 another, passing as a dream of the night ; 
 but to the younger folk, the boys and girls 
 growing up, the years were splendid of 
 promise, long to live through, full of won- 
 derful changes in the world outside — and 
 in themselves as they grew into maiden- 
 hood and manhood. 
 
 Hallow E'en had come, and a merry 
 party were gathering at Captain Ratcliffe's 
 house on a fine October evening. Mrs. 
 Saxby had just walked up the lane
 
 236 BAY RONALD. 
 
 in her clogs leaning on Dick's arm, for the 
 ■distance being short she did not think it 
 necessary to take out the gig. Others 
 came on foot also, and the Rookhurst party, 
 •comprising Philip Saxby himself, Richie, 
 and Miss Murdoch, had just preceded the 
 mother and son from Forge Farm, arriving 
 at a quarter to six. 
 
 ' You are early,' cried Ratiliffe, genially 
 greeting them as they entered the sitting- 
 room, for he Avas toasting his back at the 
 iire with his blue swallow-tails raised. 
 ' Well, the sooner the better and the more 
 the merrier.' 
 
 ' We are early,' snapped Miss Murdoch 
 to Lucy, but in an undertone. ' Mr. Saxby 
 was so restless that he hurried me away 
 before I had my pattens rightly fastened. 
 In consequence one came undone, and I 
 slipped down and have dirtied my new 
 silk gown.'
 
 BAY RONALD. 237 
 
 Lucy, who was a charming young 
 hostess, instantly show^ed the most gen- 
 uine concern, and led away her guest to 
 have the damage properly repaired in the 
 cloak-room. 
 
 Presently came Dick's loud peal at the 
 bell with a rat-tat-tat on the knocker that 
 set Lucy's heart dancing with glee, for she 
 knew her old playfellow's knock. She 
 looked such a vision of smiles and sun- 
 shine when Mrs. Saxby and Dick entered 
 arm in arm that both stood still a second 
 to take in the sight of her. She was six- 
 teen now, and the prettiest creature that 
 can easily be imagined. With her dark 
 curling hair caught up in a knot on the 
 top of her head and framing the softest, 
 still child-like, most engaging face, Lucy 
 was one of those favoured of her sex who 
 are pretty in infancy and only grow in 
 grace and witchery year by year.
 
 238 BAY KONALD. 
 
 ' Why, child !' exclaimed Catherine, 
 holding out both hands, ' I declare you are 
 grown up. It is a whole ten months since 
 we have seen you, Lucy, what with your 
 being at school and spending the holidays 
 at Brighton. You are taller by half an 
 inch.' 
 
 Dick simply held his breath. The old 
 feeling came back when, as a small boy 
 playing in Rookhurst hall, he had first 
 seen Lucy toddling towards him — a cherub 
 with red satin shoes. Now she wore only 
 a plain muslin frock, blue sash, and black 
 shoes, as suited a girl not yet brought out 
 into society. But she was an exquisite 
 vision of loveliness. 
 
 ' Indeed, I am grown. Aunt Catherine,' 
 she cried. ' Dick, I am up to your 
 shoulder — see. Why don't you pay me 
 •some compliments too ?' and she pouted 
 irresistibly.
 
 BAY RONALD. 239 
 
 ' You are — changed,' said Dick, humbly 
 looking at her with all his eyes. 
 
 ' Ah !' quoth Richie's voice joining the 
 group, ' I flatter myself that I was indeed 
 lucky to be so much in your company by 
 the seaside this autumn, Miss Jennings, 
 otherwise I should have been blinded by 
 such a blaze of beauty had it been intro- 
 duced to my gaze on a sudden.' 
 
 ' How giddy-pated you are ! Mr. Saxby, 
 your cousin has grown quite a rattle.' 
 And Lucy again turned her bright, dark 
 eyes, with slightly wondering enquiry in 
 their depths, upon young Dick 
 
 Presently a merry party was assembled 
 round Captain Ratcliffe's dinner-table, 
 which groaned with good fare. A haunch 
 of mutton at the top, two geese at the other 
 end, with a glorious smoking ham on one 
 side and boiled chickens on the other, was 
 what they were set down to, and they did 
 the repast justice.
 
 240 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Squire Falconer was there, and good Dr, 
 Butler, for the rector had now attained 
 that honour in divinity. The latter looked 
 more benignant of aspect than ever from 
 his hair, which he wore in a pigtail, being 
 as silvery as if powdered. With him was 
 Anne, his daughter, now grown into a 
 sweet-faced gentle girl, with something 
 maternal in her manner from looking after 
 her motherless brothers and sisters, and 
 a maiden's blush pretty to see when the 
 other young people laughed at her sobriety 
 of demeanour. 
 
 Later on, when they returned into the 
 sitting-room, Dick went up to question his 
 staunch ally, Mr. Falconer, concerning the 
 hunting prospects, eager to hear and give 
 news respecting foxes and well or ill-dis- 
 posed farmers. Some other young fellows 
 immediately followed him, for Dick was a 
 leader among them. As naturally Richie
 
 BAY KONALD. 241 
 
 had directed his steps towards a bevy of 
 girls in white muslin around the tea-table 
 who were clustering together, like so many 
 pigeons, with murmured laughter. 
 
 Dr. Butler, when the gentlemen came in, 
 had taken his seat beside Mrs. Saxby, and 
 now he and Catherine were both looking 
 with admiring eyes at Dick's conspicuous 
 figure among the men on the hearth-rug. 
 Dick was just twenty years of age, and 
 stood over six feet in his stockings, with 
 the muscles of a young giant and the fresh 
 rosy face of a boy. His blue eyes and 
 bright manner were inherited from his 
 father, but he had Catherine's fine features 
 and honesty of expression, that could even 
 be stern if necessary, as any idling farm 
 lad, or carter unthinkingly harsh towards 
 his horses, knew to his cost. 
 
 ' You ought to be a proud w^oman, my 
 dear friend, when you look at your son,' 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 BAY RONALD. 
 
 said the rector, confidentially. ' He will 
 be the handsomest man in Kent.' 
 
 ' The handsomest man in England,' the 
 mother Avhispered playfully back. Only 
 to this old friend she divulged glimpses of 
 her maternal pride. 
 
 Then both hushed as Philip Saxby 
 approached. 
 
 Years had not dealt kindly with Philip. 
 He had grown from grizzled to grey shortly 
 after his duel with Hasledene, now he was 
 almost white. The man's figure was stooped 
 too, his shoulders rounded, and his pale 
 face thinner and sharper set than of old. 
 People whispered that though he had shot 
 Hasledene mortally the latter had injured 
 him for life ; for, in truth, Philip's nerves 
 and health had dwindled ever since that 
 fatal day when he and his rival met under 
 the Scotch fir-trees at Rookhurst. Also he 
 was unpopular in the country after gaining
 
 BAY RONALD. 243 
 
 the latter estate. Always cold in manner 
 lie now knew himself looked upon with dis- 
 trust, even dislike, by many who remem- 
 bered how the dead man had thought Philip 
 his fidus Achates. They might have for- 
 gotten if the new master of the moated 
 house had entertained them as royally as 
 the old one. But Philip, always frugal- 
 minded, had become, it was whispered, 
 even parsimonious. The £60,000 he had 
 paid seemed to him so much loss. Rook- 
 hurst was his, he argued, by right of 
 descent, though for several generations 
 his branch had been defrauded of its posses- 
 sion. Therefore his wife's fortune which 
 had gone towards paying Hasledene's debts 
 he had grown to persuade himself was so 
 much dead loss, and could not rest satisfied 
 unless he knew that his yearly hoards were 
 increasing till in time that should be gained 
 back. 
 
 R 2
 
 244 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Now seeing he was not wanted by his 
 cousin Mrs. Saxby, who was merely civil 
 when they met, which was not often, he 
 passed on and growled into Ratcliffe's ear, 
 as the latter surveyed the scene wdth a 
 pleased general's eye, 
 
 ' Look at that ninny of a son of mine 
 sitting among those girls as if he was one 
 of them. Hang it. Rat, you are lucky to 
 have no family, for if a man has children 
 ten to one but they grow up differently 
 from what he expects them.' 
 
 ' Pshaw ! my good friend,' and RatclifFe 
 drew out his snulF-box with an easy air, 
 •• remember Achilles sat disguised among 
 the maidens, and your Richard seems in 
 great favour among these nymjDhs.' 
 
 At that moment, after a unanimous 
 burst of girlish laughter, came exclam- 
 ations of ' Oh ! Mr. Richard, what a sad 
 quiz you are ! Lord ! I vow you make
 
 BAY RONALD. 245 
 
 me afraid to talk to you, you are so droll.' 
 
 ' There, I told you so,' said Ratcliffe, 
 airily, his keen grey eyes surveying his 
 friend's face as they stood apart. 
 
 ' Are you jeering me ? Confound it, 
 man, I thought you were my old, almost 
 my only friend.' 
 
 Philip ground his heel into the Turkey 
 rug. He had been drinking heavily after 
 dinner, and his head could no longer stand 
 it as of yore, when he had sat up with 
 Hasledene till the dawn and kept his 
 senses clear. 
 
 In atwinkling Ratcliffe's manner changed. 
 He laid his hand with great friendliness 
 on Saxby's shoulder. 
 
 ' Come, come, I only meant to take 
 young Richie's part. He is a good lad and 
 a pretty fellow, so why be so hard upon 
 him. If he does not care for field sports,' 
 (here Philip winced, glancing towards
 
 246 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Dick), ' well, neither did you. And where 
 is a more successful man to be found in 
 twenty parishes round ? Other sons take 
 the bit in their teeth. Richie has been 
 like potter's clay in your hands ; has given 
 you little uneasiness at school or college.' 
 
 ' I would rather have had more debts 
 and more manliness. He follows my will, 
 yes ; I wish he had a will of his own.' 
 
 ' Tut, tut, you parents are too exacting. 
 Now I am more easy-going. If my pretty 
 niece displeases me, I shall tell myself she 
 is none of mine ; and if she is a good girl 
 she shall have my fortune.' 
 
 A quick glance passed between the two 
 men, then Ratcliffe called out cheerily, 
 
 ' Now then, ladies and gentlemen, let us 
 have whist; two tables fur whist. And 
 you, my child,' to Lucy, ' set your friends 
 to casino or commerce.' 
 
 Tables were cleared in a twinkling,
 
 BAY RONALD. 247 
 
 cards and counters supplied ; but a fourth 
 person was wanting to make up a second 
 set of whist. 
 
 ' My daughter plays a very fair game/ 
 said Dr. Butler. ' Come here, Anne, we 
 cannot get on without you.' 
 
 ' That we can,' put in Catherine quickly, 
 seeing Anne's face fall as she came obe- 
 diently at her father's wish. ' We shall 
 have dummy, that's all. Why, Anne is 
 only a girl, and we must not expect her 
 to enjoy our company when there are 
 young people present.' Then, tapping the 
 rector's arm with her fan, ' Take care, 
 doctor, you will make her an old woman 
 while she is hardly yet a young one. You 
 have supposed her grown while she was 
 only growing up.' 
 
 ' That is true. Thank you, Anne, we 
 do not need you after all, my child,' apolo- 
 gized the rector. And as his daughter
 
 248 BAY RONALD. 
 
 went briskly away he looked witli eyes of 
 contrition at his neighbour Mrs. Saxby. 
 ' You are right,' said the good man, meek- 
 ly, ' perhaps I have made Anne take too 
 much her mother's place, because she is 
 so wise for her age. I am afraid I some- 
 times forget her youth and expect the self- 
 denial of womanhood from her when she 
 might be amusing herself with her own 
 companions.' 
 
 ' She has been burdened early, and it 
 has made her a little sedate, I must own,' 
 acknowledged Catherine, looking after 
 Anne's retreating figure. ' No matter, 
 dear doctor, your wife would be proud of 
 her if she could see her ; there is not so 
 good a girl in all the county.' 
 
 ' Except Lucy Jennings. And she has 
 a natural sweetness of disposition that is 
 as charming as her face.' 
 
 So decided the rector with an air of ab-
 
 BAY RONALD. 249 
 
 "Stract justice ; whereupon Falconer, who 
 was the third at their table, thumped the 
 baize with his large hand and urged, 
 
 ' Let us begin.' 
 
 Meanwhile at the casino party Richie 
 Saxby no longer found himself the 
 favoured shepherd among the maidens, 
 fluting and piping to them on little themes. 
 When Dick joined the rest, the youngster's 
 presence had the effect of a boisterous west 
 breeze, exhilarating them all insensibly. 
 He was so brimming with health and spirits 
 that Richie paled into insignificance, and 
 thought with envy that his cousin swag- 
 gered, which was ridiculous in a country 
 bumpkin. For poor Dick had not been to 
 the university like Richie himself, having 
 studied humbly at home, farming, shooting, 
 and riding, learning with the rector as 
 best he could. Yet some graces and air of 
 finish the fellow had somehow picked up
 
 250 BAY RONALD. 
 
 as by miracle. Dick, in secret, was grate- 
 ful for these to the last man who might 
 have been expected to care for his 
 education. 
 
 Rat in his way had always liked the boy, 
 and once Avhen Dick opening his heart — 
 for somehow RatclifFe had a way of ex- 
 tracting the confidence of the young and 
 also of many of their elders — when Dick, 
 we repeat, confessed his grief at feeling 
 himself little more than a fairly educated 
 young farmer — • Come to me,' Ratcliffe 
 oracularly replied, ' I can teach you a 
 few things, my lad, only keep it dark.' 
 
 So Dick, amazed, went. Few but their 
 two selves knew thenceforth of the hours 
 he spent learning boxing from his new 
 master, at which Dick in time outdid him, 
 and fencing, where RatclifFe retained the 
 advantage, being a fine swordsman. 
 
 ' Come often. I feel young so long as I
 
 BAY KONALD. 251 
 
 keep my hand in,' said RatclifFe, really 
 proud of his pupil. And Dick's bearing 
 and carriage insensibly improved under 
 their almost daily exercise.
 
 252 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 When the round game was over this 
 evening, burning nuts was proposed by the 
 two Miss Pollocks — merry chatterboxes, 
 the daughters of a retired merchant settled 
 near — and all gathered round the glowing 
 fire. 
 
 ' My sweet creature,' cried Lizzie Pol- 
 lock to Lucy, whom she admired greatly 
 as not only their hostess and belle of the 
 neighbourhood, but as having been to a 
 fashionable school for several years past, 
 and only just emancipated from its elegant 
 thraldom, ' I vow we must burn you 
 first with two lovers. Who shall they be T
 
 BAY EONALD. 25^ 
 
 ' The two Mr. Saxbys,' cried her sister 
 Mary, joined by a giggling chorus. And 
 all eyes soon eagerly watched the fate of 
 three nuts on the topmost bar. 
 
 Fizz ! splutter ! went Richie's nut amid 
 shrieks of laughter, while Lucy's burnt 
 with steady, even glow. Just then some- 
 one else, putting down fresh mimic lovers, 
 knocked Dick's nut by mischance among 
 the coals. Quick as thought Dick's hand 
 dived after it, almost caught, then followed 
 it into a glowing mass where it had slipped. 
 As he replaced it on the bars, his laugh of 
 triumph broke short and he drew in his 
 breath. 
 
 Lucy gave a little horrified cry. 
 
 ' Oh, Dickie ! you are badly burnt.' 
 
 ' It is nothing,' said Dick curtly, rolling 
 up his hand in his handkerchief in secret 
 pleasure that the accident had startled her 
 into calling him by the old childish name.
 
 254 BAY EONALD. 
 
 And in spite of eager solicitations to show 
 the extent of his injury he insisted on 
 their all attending properly to the game. 
 
 Presently the Miss Pollocks grew weary 
 of the amusement, as their nuts obstinately 
 sprang into the fire or refused to burn. 
 
 ' Let us have forfeits,' they cried, amid 
 general clapping of hands, and toll was 
 collected all round. 
 
 After ten minutes of fun, Lizzie Pollock, 
 being the blind-folded goddess in whose 
 lap gifts were laid, found herself fingering 
 a coral necklace which Lucy had just un- 
 clasped from her neck. 
 
 ' What shall be done to the owner of 
 this ?' asked Mary Pollock, nudging her 
 sister significantly. 
 
 ' She shall shake hands with the biggest 
 man present, curtsey to the best-dressed 
 one, and kiss the handsomest,' responded 
 the oracle.
 
 BAY RONALD. 255 
 
 A conscious snigger ran clown the youths 
 who were all standing in a row, for similar 
 but not quite such tender tests had been 
 their late experiences. 
 
 Lucy's ' Oh, I can't!' was overcome by 
 the urgings of her companions. 
 
 ' Go on. Shake hands with the tallest 
 man, Mr. Dick Sax — no, Sammy Pollock.' 
 
 For the Misses Pollock had a brother, 
 six foot three in height, lanky, hacket- 
 faced, with a giant Adam's apple seem- 
 ingly stuck fast in his windpipe. Grinning 
 a.n amiable grin, the good youth extended 
 his hand straight like a chopper, grasping 
 Lucy's soft fingers by help of a prehensile 
 thumb. 
 
 Drawing a breath of rehef at this first 
 ordeal past, Miss Jenning's bright eyes 
 roved around in comical dismay. Just 
 then her uncle passed behind the giddy 
 group.
 
 256 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' Well, little puss, what are you about?" 
 
 So saying Ratcliffe piuched his niece's, 
 pretty ear and went on to look after his 
 guests at the further whist-table, pressing 
 fresh packs of cards upon them, although 
 unneeded. No one overheard his quick 
 ivhisper to Lucy, 
 
 ' Choose Richie, child.' 
 
 Miss Jennings walked, at that, with an 
 affected air of criticism, putting her head 
 on one side, once along the row of compe- 
 titors and half-way back. Several pulled 
 their high neck-cloths still higher to their 
 ears, advanced their pumps to best advan- 
 tage. Lucy was at her ease, though they 
 were horribly shy, especially Dick, Avho 
 had somewhat outgrown his last year's 
 best coat. But Richie in tight, light gar- 
 ments, variegated waistcoat, and large shirt 
 frill, looked as dapper and smilingly com- 
 posed as a wax figure in a tailor s shop ;
 
 BAY RONALD. 257 
 
 SO no wonder that Miss Jennings, holding 
 out her muslin skirt with dainty finger- 
 tips, performed her most elegant curtsey 
 before him. 
 
 ' That will do,' she cried, rising to her 
 wonted height and shaking her curls, an 
 old trick of hers especially bewitching. 
 ' The last is ridiculous, I protest ! This 
 is not mistletoe-time !' 
 
 ' Oh, Lord ! you are leaving out the 
 best part,' exclaimed Lizzie Pollock at the 
 top of her voice. 
 
 Other voices chimed in in full cry, 
 
 ' Dear creature, don't be so modest !' 
 'What harm is there in a kiss?' 'The 
 men are all waiting.' 
 
 ' It is too invidious. How can I tell 
 who is the handsomest here ? Everyone to 
 their taste, you know, but I have no choice 
 when all are my guests.' 
 
 ' That is too cunning, Lucy. Gracious 
 alive ! There can be no doubt. We will 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 BAY RONALD. 
 
 all make up your mind for you. Dick ! 
 Handsome Dick Saxby ! Why, we are 
 proud of him.' 
 
 Dick flushed beetroot red over cheeks, 
 ears, up to his broad white forehead. He 
 was used to his nickname as a matter of 
 joke, but with this beautiful girl looking 
 shyly round at him over her shoulder, 
 wavering between desire to escape and 
 the feminine wish to steal one searching, 
 comparing glance and be assured that he 
 really surpassed all his fellows — why, in 
 such a situation Dick felt himself a coun- 
 trified lout, a mere big clod-hopper. What 
 would she do ? 
 
 Lucy soon decided. She dropped him 
 tioo curtseys ; spread her little palms out 
 with a gesture denoting that the impos- 
 sible was required of her; shot one coquet- 
 tish glance from under her dark lashes
 
 BAY EONALD. 259 
 
 right up in Dick's face that set his heart 
 thumping, and — fled. 
 
 She slipped nimbly as a kitten past the 
 outstretched arms of the other girls who 
 tried to detain her, ran round a settee, 
 skirted a whist-table, hotly pursued by the 
 two Pollock hoydens, and took refuge 
 panting and laughing behind her uncle's 
 chair. 
 
 ^ There, there, there ! You will make 
 me revoke,' cried Ratcliffe. gaily, as Lucy 
 leaned her arms upon his shoulders, and 
 pretended to examine his hand of cards. 
 Then, in a whisper, (' Well, you chose 
 Richie as the handsomest, eh ?') 
 
 ' No, as the best-dressed. I curtseyed,' 
 breathed Lucy, in his ear. ' I kissed no- 
 body ; 1 ran away.' 
 
 ' Pshaw !' Ratcliffe had just put down an 
 ace of clubs to his partner's lead. The 
 fourth player trumped with a deuce. 
 
 s2
 
 260 BAY KONALD. 
 
 Lucy quickly raised her pretty head 
 that had been resting against RatclifFe's 
 grizzled one. She saw her uncle was an- 
 noyed, but was not certain as to the true 
 cause. 
 
 The game of forfeits having broken up 
 in laughing disorder, Lucy now returned 
 to Anne Butler with engaging entreaty. 
 
 ' Please, dear, will you not sit down to 
 the instrument ? Give us some tune to 
 pass a few minutes till supper is laid.' 
 
 So Anne, who was the best performer 
 in the neighbourhood, willingly placed 
 herself at the piano, and played with 
 much feeling and taste. At once almost 
 all the young people began chattering like 
 a flock of sparrows, their voices rising^ 
 shriller and shriller. This was mortifying, 
 yet for Lucy's sake, who sat by in an atti- 
 tude of pretty earnestness, which was quite 
 real, mingled with slight distress at the
 
 BAY RONALD. 261 
 
 others' rudeness, Anne played on. Like- 
 wise she was conscious — yes, conscious by 
 some thrill running all through her — that 
 some one else stood at the back of her 
 chair, listening likewise. 
 
 When the piece was over, Lucy was 
 profuse of warm thanks, then slipped away 
 to perform other duties as hostess. Anne 
 turned her head and saw Dick — she had 
 known it was he ! — with folded arms, knit- 
 ted brow, and an air of concentration al- 
 most approaching sternness, giving unusual 
 gravity to his merry features. Rousing 
 himself, he drew a long breath and came 
 forward. 
 
 ' You played that sonata beautifully, 
 Anne. Thank you. It has given me the 
 most real pleasure I have had to-night. 
 What fools those others were not to listen.' 
 
 Anne's face, that was as sweet and still 
 as a summer night, brightened at his words
 
 262 BAY RONALD. 
 
 as if the Aurora Borealis had flushed its 
 sky. 
 
 ' It is worth while playing to have two 
 such listeners as you and Lucy,' she said, 
 simply, a little under her breath, her eyes 
 modestly downcast. 
 
 ' May I sit beside you at supper ?' asked 
 Dick, abruptly, offering her his arm. 
 
 Then all trooped into the next room 
 where what Ratcliffe deprecatingly called 
 ' a little bit of something hot ' had been 
 served -, and there followed more eating 
 and drinking, with songs from the com- 
 pany. In this the Pollock girls excelled, 
 for Anne had no voice. But Dick, to his 
 own surprise, made the hit of the evening 
 with a hunting ditty ; Squire Falconer and 
 his young satellites joining in the chorus, 
 and beating thundering accompaniment 
 with fork and knife handles. 
 
 No thought had Dick that he could sing
 
 BAY RONALD. 263 
 
 at all well when, after teasings and urg- 
 ings, he trolled out his song of the hunt. 
 Formerly as a little lad he always used to 
 sing in the church-choir, but afterwards his 
 voice broke. It was only of late that the 
 possession of a fine baritone, mellow and 
 strong, had gratified himself. For holding 
 * the plough sometimes by way of teaching 
 the men how a straight furrow should be 
 driven, Dick, keeping his horses well in 
 hand and pleasurably sniffing the smell of 
 the earth as it fell back in two brown waves 
 from the shining share, often broke like 
 a blackbird into scraps of whistle and 
 song. 
 
 This little triumph was pleasant, espe- 
 cially as Lucy herself thanked Mr. Dick 
 for obliging them all. 
 
 Then the party broke up. Miss Mur- 
 doch began asking for her pattens with 
 renewed grumblings (carefully kept from
 
 264 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Philip Saxby's hearing) against her late 
 fall in the lane. 
 
 ' I can find them. I know where they 
 were put.' 
 
 Away darted Lucy into the book-room, 
 which was in darkness, however, not be- 
 ing used that evening. She had herself 
 hidden Miss Murdoch's wraps there, be- 
 cause of that lady's injunctions to put her 
 ' new umhreller ' apart, this given with sig- 
 nificant sniffs. The precaution seemed 
 both rude and unnecessary, for the said 
 cotton umbrella was already famous for 
 its size and ugliness. It was one of Richie's 
 jokes that his father's housekeeper had 
 bought it with a view to marrying a 
 widower, and sheltering his large family. 
 As Lucy groped in the shadows, a large 
 form blocked the little light coming from 
 the doorway. 
 
 ' Who is there ? Please to stand aside '
 
 BAY RONALD. 265 
 
 she asked, sweetly. ' I am trying to 
 look ' 
 
 ' I came to lielp you,' said Dick's voice; 
 but he did not stand aside. Instead he 
 came straight forward. Then in a deep 
 voice, ' LucyP 
 
 ' Yes,' said Lucy, ceasing her search and 
 feeling rather tremulous. 
 
 ' I want to ask you one thing.' Dick's 
 tone Avas manly and firm, though he spoke 
 low. ' What has come between us ? You 
 used to be such good friends with me when 
 you were a little girl, and even all the 
 last holidays when you came back from 
 school.' 
 
 ' There is nothing the matter. We are 
 good friends still; are we not?' 
 
 Now, asking a second question is gener- 
 ally a convenient way of attempting to get 
 out of a dilemma. In this case, however, 
 it did not avail Miss Jennings.
 
 266 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' That is what I want to know.' Dick's 
 voice became deeper ; still lower. ' You 
 refused to kiss nie in there just now, 
 although any of the other girls would have 
 thought nothing of it. How have I 
 offended you?' 
 
 ' I — oh, but you haven't. Please don't 
 be vexed, Dick. Only you see there were 
 so many others there.' 
 
 ' There are no others here now.' 
 
 ' ^o— but ' 
 
 ' You don't know how deeply I w^as 
 hurt,' (the words were uttered with agi- 
 tation). ' After all these years, after your 
 promises when you went to school, it — it 
 was a blow.' 
 
 ' Dickie, dont be hurt. I am so sorry. 
 I will kiss you the next time, really. Even 
 if they laugh.' 
 
 ' Then kiss me now.' 
 
 Dick truly felt wounded in friendship,,
 
 BAY RONALD. 267 
 
 offended in pride ; his heart was sore over 
 his old playfellow's apparent desertion. 
 
 Lucy hesitated just one moment. After 
 all, what was there in a kiss ? She had 
 kissed Dick since their infancy scores of 
 times, and — according to the forfeits he 
 had a right to it. So half like a child, 
 half coyly like a girl, she put up her 
 face. 
 
 Dick kissed her dewy lips, then liked 
 the taste of them so much he did so three 
 times, and each time with greater relish. 
 For some years back he had considered 
 that kissing, except as regarded his mother 
 occasionally, was a silly habit only to be 
 indulged in by girls amongst themselves, 
 or ninnies (by which it is to be feared he 
 meant sweethearts). Now he felt in a 
 manner ashamed of himself, trembling 
 with a newborn delight. 
 
 Steps sounded outside on the black and
 
 268 BAY RONALD. 
 
 white stone flooring of the hall. In a trice 
 Dick and Lucy were searching in the dark 
 for the mislaid pattens. Their heads were 
 naturally bent, which accounted for the 
 Wood that dyed their cheeks crimson when 
 both emerged into the light on hearing 
 Rat cliff e call. 
 
 ' Here we are, Uncle Pierce ; I mean here 
 they are,' answered Lucy, rather tremu- 
 lously, thrusting the muddy articles into 
 his hand. ' And I have got Miss Mur- 
 doch's cloak and umbrella. Dick was 
 kindly helping me to find them.' 
 
 Dick abashed hung back, feeling as his 
 host's glance passed over him much as a 
 thief might under a policeman's lantern. 
 
 ' 0, that was it, was it?' 
 
 Ratcliffe softly hummed to himself under 
 his breath, allowing Lucy to precede him. 
 His manner was perfectly unsuspicious, 
 yet the tune he was crooning surprised
 
 BAY RONALD. 26^ 
 
 Dick, who recognised the unusual swings 
 for it was the famous Marseillaise, 
 
 ' Marchons, enfants de la patrie.' 
 
 That much could be distinguished from 
 between Captain RatclifFe's partially closed 
 teeth. 
 
 Dick could not guess why so terrible an 
 air should have suggested itself to his- 
 host on this festal evening. The mere 
 truth was that Pierce Ratcliffe had a habit 
 of repeating it to himself almost uncon- 
 sciously when in stress of thought or 
 danger. Even had Dick known as^ 
 much, the reason for its present appli- 
 cation would still have been hidden from 
 his inward eyes.
 
 270 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Dick dutifully escorted his mother home, 
 who leaned on his arm again with still 
 greater pride warming her heart, for her 
 boy had outshone all the other lads at the 
 party. And this, not only in the widow's 
 own estimation, but in the opinion of 
 others who acknowledged him like Saul, 
 higher than the rest by a head from his 
 shoulders upward. (' At least he will be 
 that, he has not done growing yet,' was her 
 proud reflection.) 
 
 They let themselves in by the backdoor of 
 which Mrs. Saxby carried the key because 
 it was smaller, therefore more convenient
 
 BAY RONALD. 271 
 
 for her pocket, tlian that of the front door. 
 Also Catherine could better leave her clogs 
 there, and Dick take oiF his muddy boots 
 in the entry. 
 
 So in stockinged feet, Dick dutifully 
 followed upstairs not to vex his mother's 
 soul by muddy imprints, and went into his 
 room, but not to sleep. Pulling off his 
 coat he examined it critically, held it near 
 the candle this way and that ; then flung 
 it with disdain on a chair. Folding his 
 arms he stood awhile in the middle of the 
 room with head down bent, and as he did 
 so the colour rose red in his cheeks. He 
 was going over the scene in the dark book- 
 room once more in his own mind ; his lips 
 were burnino^ still with kisses. Dick felt 
 almost as shy as a girl of his own age, 
 reverent with a new-born awe of woman- 
 hood that was inexplicable to himself. 
 Ten months ago Lucy had been only a
 
 272 BAY RONALD. 
 
 sclioolgirl to him, a little sister ; now she 
 was a goddess, yet, nay ! — for he had held 
 her form in his arms. Back travelled 
 memory down a vista of happy years re- 
 calling how soft, kittenish, she had been 
 in her cherubic childhood, always seeming 
 made to be petted, caressed, loved. 
 
 Loved! yes, that was it. A dizzy feel- 
 ing came over Dick, one of exultation ^ 
 surprise — great gladness. It was nearly 
 half-an-hour before he stirred at all ; and 
 when he did begin pacing up and down 
 the room it was with noiseless steps. At 
 last his candle (it had only been an end, 
 for Molly was a thrifty soul) burnt low, 
 flickered up, went out in its socket. Left 
 in the dark, Dick groped to bed and lay 
 down but not to sleep. He was too happy, 
 too excited, his brain was overfull of vague 
 visions, his memory surcharged with the 
 events of the evening — looks, tones, and
 
 BAY KONALD. 273 
 
 glances. How he had watched dear Lucy 
 as he stood behind Anne Butler's piano 
 stool. How pensive she was, with her 
 head on her hand, her elbow resting on 
 the settee back, her rosy lips just parted, 
 and the sweet bosom heaving a little with 
 long inspirations as if from pure pleasure. 
 How perfect the turn of that soft white 
 neck and the way her head was set on it 
 like ! 
 
 Ugh ! how confoundedly his burnt hand 
 hurt him. 
 
 Dick had disguised this little matter 
 from his mother, and now was afraid of 
 waking her if he slipped down to the 
 kitchen for some flour to ease it. For 
 Catherine was long in falling asleep, as 
 she sometimes owned, and then slept 
 lightly. So till dawn came the good lad 
 bore his pain as best he might, while it 
 mingled with his new joy and some- 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 BAY RONALD. 
 
 times one, sometimes the other had the 
 mastery. Then he rose softly, and in the 
 ^rey light dressed himself and stole out- 
 side, thinking the fresh morning air would 
 be pleasant to his dulled head. 
 
 In the porch, however, he stumbled over 
 an obstacle just outside the back door, 
 started slightly, looked at it, and rubbed 
 his eyes. Was he dreaming still ? — asleep ? 
 For there just upon the threshold was 
 standing a small keg of — it could hardly 
 be doubted — spirits. And staring at it on 
 the ground Dick now perceived that the 
 entry was muddy as with the trampling of 
 several miry boots. On the broom tied 
 to the porch-jamb, as is the custom in Kent 
 outside every farm door, enough soil had 
 been scraped oiF muddy feet to grow a 
 dozen leeks. 
 
 ' Whew ! this is the first time they have 
 dared ! So they have been up to their
 
 BAY RONALD. 275 
 
 tricks last night ! Let us see ivliat they have 
 taken V 
 
 Feeling not a boy but a man on whom 
 devolved the care of his mother's farm and 
 household, besides the honour of their 
 Saxby name, Dick walked across the yard 
 with bent head, a strange and unexpected 
 load suddenly burdening his young 
 shoulders. It was no new thing to know 
 that there were smugglers not far off; that 
 is to say, all along the coast and for some 
 distance inland. But in spite of whispered 
 hints, which he had lightly treated as vil- 
 lage gossip, young Saxby had never until 
 now had proof positive that any of these 
 law-breakers were actually in the Rook- 
 hurst parish. To hear of them ten miles, 
 even ^n^ away, bore a different complexion. 
 Then to dare bribe him by leaving a 
 whisky-keg behind ! as was known to be 
 the smugglers' custom when, hard pressed, 
 
 T 2
 
 276 BAY KONAIiD. 
 
 they helped themselves to shelter, food, or 
 something necessary for their flight. 
 
 Dick hurried to the stables, but the cart- 
 horses were all in their stalls ; the gig mare 
 too was contentedly lying down, and his 
 own colt. Bay Ronald, whinnied with 
 pleasure on hearing his master's stej)^ 
 though Dick had only looked at him as a 
 matter of habit and fond ownership). This 
 was the handsomest yearling in England, 
 Dick proudly believed. And Squire Fal- 
 coner had given it to him as a birthday 
 gift well worth the having, for Bay Ronald 
 came of a breed for which the M.F.H.'s 
 stables were noted. 
 
 When he came out again into the 
 shadows of the yard, Dick stood by the 
 gate mightily perplexed. Then the rumb- 
 ling of a cart fell upon his ear. Some 
 waggoner was up early, and was coming 
 nearer and nearer down the road. Next he
 
 BAY RONALD. 277 
 
 noticed that the sound of wheels became 
 suddenly softer. They had turned up the 
 miry farm lane. In two minutes more a 
 heavy cart came slowly in sight, with so 
 small and wretched a pony in its shafts 
 that Dick stared in wonderment. 
 
 ' What the dickens does this mean ? It 
 is not five o'clock yet, and there is not a 
 man stirring about the place as anyone 
 might know,' he told himself under his 
 breath. 
 
 He drew back behind an elm-tree that 
 grew by the gateway and waited. 
 
 Very slowly the cart creaked on, passing 
 him. Then, by George ! there were the 
 letters ' R. Saxby ' painted on its side. It 
 was one of his own. 
 
 The driver unharnessed his beast, backed 
 the borrowed cart into the shed, and was 
 just about to depart leading his horse when 
 Dick stepped out before his very face.
 
 278 BAY RONAIiD. 
 
 ' Now, what does this mean, sir ? ... 
 Great goodness! Ebenezer Bird?' A 
 moment of mutual astonished silence fol- 
 lowed, sullen shame on the one part, hurt 
 indignation on the other. ' So you are one 
 of them. I should never have believed it.' 
 
 Thus Dick delivered himself with hands 
 thrust in his pockets and shoulders raised. 
 
 ' Who — I?' Ebenezer feigned stolid in- 
 comprehension of Dick's meaning. He was 
 trembling all over like an aspen leaf. 
 His face, even in the dim October twilight, 
 showed strangely grey. ' Don't know what 
 yer mean, young master,' he managed to 
 say, his teeth chattering as if he were 
 struck with palsy, ' but there is no sense 
 in startling a man out of his Avits. I'se 
 only come to do yer a service.' 
 
 'What of that cart there? Why did 
 you take it?' 
 
 ' Take it ? Who took it ? none of me.'
 
 BAY KONALD. 279 
 
 Now Ebenezer — who was called young 
 Bird because lie was the son of Amos and 
 only fifty years of age — ever since his dis- 
 missal long ago by the new Rookhurst 
 bailiff for carrying wounded Squire Hasle- 
 dene to his home, was always specially 
 favoured by Mrs. Saxby. Catherine in- 
 variably gave him employment when she 
 could, but Ebenezer had been used to fell- 
 ing in the woods and helping his father 
 with the oxen, the only man living whom 
 old Amos permitted to touch his beloved 
 beasts. So Ebenezer drifted into doing 
 odd jobs of hedging, ditching, and such- 
 like, gradually coming to be regarded as 
 lazy, if not fallen into evil habits of drink- 
 ing in his middle age. But he never 
 wanted for kindly assistance at Forge 
 Farm when at rare times he came to ask 
 for it. Meantime he got on somehow. 
 
 ' When I looked out of the door this
 
 280 BAY EONALD. 
 
 morning, having risen up early for want 
 of sleep, I saw your cart. Some one must 
 have borrowed it. I can't say who it was. 
 It was left just under the hedge. Thinks 
 I, Mr. Saxby will be wanting his cart, so 
 I borrowed the pony that Betsy Hogg 
 drives round with her apples . . . that's 
 all . . . that's all I can tell you.' 
 
 The man was obviously so ill that Dick's 
 heart softened while looking at him. 
 
 ' Listen, there's something forgotten in 
 the porch,'- said he, significantly, ' it may 
 do your ague good. We don't want it.' 
 
 Ebenezer's dull eyes brightened. 
 
 ' I'll send for it ; send Patty with the 
 wheel-barrow,' he whispered. ' Please 
 give her some potatoes to hide it. Master 
 Dick. Do ye now ? Times are bad and 
 if it was seen.' — He leant against the pony 
 seized with an uncontrollable fit of shiver- 
 ing. Ague was rife thereabouts at this
 
 BAY RONALD. 281 
 
 season and often deadly, especially among 
 the poor. 
 
 Dick walked back with him to Amos 
 Bird's cottage, being afraid that the un- 
 fortunate man might fall down in the lane 
 and be unable to get further. About a 
 few hundred yards from Forge Farm they 
 passed a cart, with one wheel off, by the 
 roadside. Plainly this was the smugglers' 
 one that had broken down and so earned 
 the Saxbys the honour of a nocturnal 
 visit. 
 
 To think these fellows should actually 
 have dared to come so far up the country, 
 that they must at this very minute be 
 hiding their ill-gotten goods in some of 
 the farm-houses close by, with whose 
 inmates he, Dick, might be friendly un- 
 knowing ! His gorge rose at this sign of 
 audacity. Only that Ebenezer was staggering 
 from weakness, perhaps dying, he longed
 
 282 BAY RONALD. 
 
 to give that ill-doer a piece of his mind. 
 
 Amos Bird's cottage seemed disordered 
 when they entered the kitchen. The x^atri- 
 arch himself i^eered out from the bed-room, 
 half-dressed, with bleary eyes. To Dick's 
 curt and cutting explanations of his early 
 visit, Amos vouchsafed no direct answer 
 but only wagged his head slowly, grum- 
 bling that his boy had got the axey ; got 
 it sure enough, and no wonder. Oh, these 
 were desperate times. In the old days, 
 when Mrs. Saxby and handsome Hasle- 
 dene, her husband, were at Rookhurst, it 
 was not so hard for poor folk to get an 
 honest living. Dick pitied the old family 
 retainer whose son should have been the 
 stay of his last years. As to Ebenezer, he 
 stumbled into the bed-room followed by 
 Amos, who muttered that he would give 
 him a writing (Anglice, charm). 
 
 Dick's attention turned to a slip of a
 
 BAY EONALD. 285 
 
 young girl who was whimpering in a cor- 
 ner with an apron thrown over her head. 
 This was Patty Bird, Ebenezer's mother- 
 less only child. To Dick's attempts at 
 cheering, and promises that his mother, 
 or Miss Butler, should bring medicine and 
 nourishing food for her father, she only 
 gurgled in reply, 
 
 'The kitchen floor. It was clean scrub- 
 bed last night. Look at it now — like a 
 pig-stye . . . 6>A, they men P 
 
 Truly the brick flooring was plastered 
 with mud, which set Dick a-thinking more 
 than ever, and he softly whistled to him- 
 self. Patty plainly, however, had no share 
 in the evil deeds of her relatives. So Dick 
 cheered her about her kitchen, which was 
 generally kept spotlessly clean, praising 
 her gay-ground too, or garden strip in 
 front, where the borders were ruthlessly 
 trampled this morning.
 
 284 BAY RONALD. 
 
 Patty was a pretty girl with some gipsy 
 blood it was said in her veins, a rumour 
 borne out by her dark eyes and mass of 
 silky, tangled black hair. She looked so 
 pretty as, recovering from her grief, she 
 peered out from under her apron, that 
 Dick had suddenly half a mind to steal a 
 kiss. Why ? for it was a new idea to him. 
 But instantly he remembered those pre- 
 cious ones given by Lucy last night, and 
 the contrast was too great. Likewise just 
 then Amos shambled back. His eyes, still 
 keen in spite of age, noticed the burn on 
 Dick's hand. 
 
 ' I could cure that,' he muttered, ' if you 
 like. But you won't say a word. Master 
 Dick, eh? You won't talk?' 
 
 Dick, who remembered well a wart being 
 charmed from his hand in boyhood by 
 Amos, who with occult rites had impaled 
 a slug on a rose-thorn to wither away,
 
 BAY KONALD. 285 
 
 expressed his willingness to be healed. 
 Amos fumbled with shaking hands in a 
 cupboard, and brought out a mysterious 
 little bag, with injunctions that Dick was 
 to wear it tied round his neck till it drop- 
 ped oiF, but not to let it be seen. The old 
 man was so troubled about the discovery 
 of his boy's malpractices, and his own sus- 
 pected intercourse with the smugglers, that 
 he quite forgot to add the usual formula 
 that Dick must on no account look inside 
 the bag. This scrutiny Dick promptly 
 proceeded to take on his homeward way. 
 He found the charm consisted of a tri- 
 angular and very soiled piece of paper, on 
 which was scrawled in faded ink the fol- 
 lowing lines : 
 
 ' Two angels from the North, 
 One brought fire, one brought frost ; 
 Out fire, in frost ; " 
 In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.' 
 
 That afternoon Dick, with his hand pro-
 
 286 BAY RONALD. 
 
 perly bound up by his mother, and wearing 
 his second-best coat with a jaunty air, 
 passed out by the front-door and across 
 the hamlet green. Some good-looking 
 nags standing by the forge opposite at- 
 tracted his attention. They belonged to 
 Captain RatclifFe's stable, and the latter 
 himself was superintending their shoeing. 
 Dick of course stopped for a chat, though 
 feeling slightly disconcerted. 
 
 ' I was just on my way to your house to 
 pay my respects after last night's party, 
 and ask after Miss Lucy.' 
 
 To himself the words sounded halting, 
 also ' Miss ' had been put in hesitatingly, 
 with playful awkwardness, before Lucy's 
 name. Formerly, of course, he would have 
 simply said Lucy without any prefix, but 
 she was grown up, and — their relations 
 now were altered. 
 
 ' Very glad to see you, my dear lad. If
 
 BAY RONALD. 287 
 
 you will wait with me here, we can stroll 
 back together.' 
 
 Ratcliffe was as amiable as usual ; his 
 tone as friendly, almost fatherly. So Dick 
 waited of necessity, although burning with 
 impatience. However, as it was his nature 
 to be always occupied with the matter in 
 hand, he was soon engrossed in watching 
 the shoeing of a rather fractious young 
 horse, so he never noticed that Ratcliffe, 
 tearing a leaf out of his pocket-book, wrote 
 a few words in French with a pencil, and 
 despatched one of his grooms homeward 
 with the message. 
 
 ' I never saw such a man as you are, 
 captain, for always seeing to your horses 
 being shod,' remarked Dick. 
 
 ' "For want of a nail the shoe was lost," ' 
 quoted Radcliffe, oracularly. 
 
 ' And what a stable-full of cattle you 
 have too ! How do you keep them always 
 exercised ?'
 
 288 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' My friends sometimes give me a help- 
 ing hand,' was the somewhat ironical reply ; 
 and Dick, who often got a mount, was 
 silenced. 
 
 ' By the way, have you heard of our 
 mishap, my boy?' went on Ratcliffe, with an 
 air of concern. ' Jim Lee, my stud-groom, 
 fell and broke his leg last night. Com- 
 pound fracture, poor fellow.' 
 
 ' How was that ? I saw him all right 
 at dinner-time when we walked up to the 
 house.' 
 
 ' Quite so. He went up a ladder to the 
 hay-loft, it seems, and half way up it 
 slij)ped and he fell. I am truly sorry for 
 him. So, you see, I have to do his work 
 myself and keep an eye also on my lazy 
 fellows.' 
 
 Presently as they two walked along the 
 lane they were overtaken by Squire Fal- 
 coner riding back from the kennels. He
 
 BAY EONALD. 289 
 
 was bursting with news which he pulled 
 up to tell them. Actually, only last night 
 there had been a daring attempt of smug- 
 glers to land a considerable cargo on the 
 near coast. Some rumours of their inten- 
 tion had leaked out, but the coast-guards- 
 men assembled at the wrong spot. How- 
 ever, finding out their mistake, they pur- 
 sued the gang inland, and a desperate fight 
 then took place, in which most of the 
 smugglers escaped; though some of their 
 number were supposed to have been badly 
 wounded. 
 
 ' This is serious news,' remarked Rat- 
 cliffe, knitting his brows. ' And the fel- 
 lows got clean away, you say. Where can 
 they have hidden themselves ?' 
 
 It was on Dick's lips to say, ' Not far 
 from here,' but he checked himself. Al- 
 though he made no promises to old Amos 
 or Ebenezer Bird, yet he felt towards them 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 BAY RONALD. 
 
 as a dispossessed feudal baron might to- 
 wards tlie few vassals who remained loyal 
 to him in secret. It was impossible to be- 
 tray them. So he listened, feeling some- 
 what ashamed, while RatcliiFe and Falconer 
 gravely discussed the matter. 
 
 When they arrived at the Laurels, to 
 Dick's chagrin Miss Jennings was not at 
 home. She had put on her hat and tippet 
 only ten minutes before, and gone out for 
 a walk, said the maid. RatcliiFe was full 
 of regrets, and tried to persuade Dick to 
 come in, nevertheless, and have a turn at 
 the foils. But the latter contrived to ex- 
 cuse himself, and took leave, feeling that 
 if he stayed his gaiety and wits would be, 
 like the young mistress of the household — 
 absent. 
 
 Whenever he was vexed, Dick had un- 
 consciously acquired the habit of turning 
 his steps to the rectory. Thither he now
 
 BAY RONALD. 291 
 
 betook himself; and though the rector was 
 not visible, being occupied with his ser- 
 mon, Miss Anne, who was as good, if not 
 better, when consolation was needed, was 
 in the drawing-room. 
 
 Oh, joy and surprise ! who should be 
 visiting there also but Lucy herself, look- 
 ing more charming than ever in a wide 
 feathered hat of the newest London mode, 
 with a fur tippet and large muff. 
 
 Dick explained how he had just been to 
 pay his respects to her, and then came on 
 to enquire after Anne, also. 
 
 ' We are both vastly obliged for your 
 politeness, I am sure,' said Lucy, sweetly. 
 ' ( Only yesterday her answer would have 
 been more roguish.) ' Uncle Pierce was 
 afraid dear Dr. Butler might have taken 
 cold walking home last night. So he sent 
 me just now to ask after him. But have 
 you both heard my news ?' She had kept 
 
 u2
 
 292 BAY KONALD. 
 
 her eyes downcast after Dick's entrance,, 
 so lie had no chance of seeing the new light 
 that gave them a softness and sentiment 
 they had not before. Now she raised them 
 to both her hearers with an appealing look, 
 half-laughing, half-piteous, that made Dick 
 secretly long to take her in his arms. ' / 
 am to go hack to school! Oh, not to an 
 ordinary school,' she went on, eagerly tak- 
 ing up her uncle's defence in answer to a 
 torrent of surprised almost indignant ex- 
 clamations from her hearers. ' Yes, of 
 course we all thought, I as well as you 
 both, that I had come home for good. But 
 dear uncle talked quite seriously to me 
 about it this morning. It will be only for 
 a few months, he says. I am to stay in 
 London and be more practised in accom- 
 plishments, in singing and dancing and 
 in the piano. He praised your playing^ 
 dear Anne, so much ; in fact, hearing you
 
 BAY RONALD. 293 
 
 gave him a sudden wish that I should try 
 to equal it. Not that I ever can do so ;' 
 and Lucy nestled her hand within Anne's 
 arm and kissed her friend's cheek affec- 
 tionately. ' Besides, Lizzie Pollock sang 
 so well at supper ; and he seemed in doubt 
 whether I had curtseyed last night in the 
 new fashion.' 
 
 ' He never looked at you,' growled Dick, 
 who felt perplexed and suspicious in spite 
 of Rat's late friendliness, which seemed 
 undeniable. 
 
 ' He only means it for my good. You 
 cannot think how truly kind he is to me,' 
 replied Lucy, deprecatingly, with simple 
 humility of tone as regarded herself, and 
 affectionate warmth towards her uncle. 
 
 Presently she tripped away, saying that 
 Captain Ratcliffe would be sure to need 
 her, so she must not delay any longer. 
 Dick would have gladly accompanied her
 
 294 BAY EONAIiD. 
 
 back, but as be bad only been at tbe rectory 
 since ^ve minutes, for shame's sake he could 
 not leave. 
 
 He had his reward, for his usual con- 
 fidant and friend instantly began praising 
 Lucy's sweet disposition, her charming 
 features, and engaging ways. Which theme 
 was so suited to Dick's present frame of 
 mind that he sat on, becoming vastly 
 soothed, though he only uttered an occa- 
 sional monosyllabic assent to Anne's ex- 
 pressions of girlish enthusiasm. 
 
 Then Anne unburdened her mind of 
 some domestic worries, needing Dick's aid, 
 as she often did. The two little boys were 
 behindhand with their Latin that day, and 
 she had no time to help them, being ob- 
 liged to superintend a new cook who was 
 boiling blackberry-jam. 
 
 ' Would it trouble you very much,. 
 Dick?'
 
 BAY EONALD. 295 
 
 ' Trouble me ? Not a bit, I'll have a go 
 with the lazy little beggars.' 
 
 Dick thereupon gathered up his long 
 limbs and marched cheerfully into the 
 school-room to play pedagogue to the 
 Butler small fry, as many a day the rector 
 had taught himself. 
 
 ' What a dear fellow he is !' thought 
 Anne, as she pinned on her cooking-apron, 
 and a soft smile made pretty dimples in 
 her cheeks had anyone been there to see. 
 ' So good ! so kind ! There is no one can 
 be depended upon like him.' 
 
 Though Dick kept his word, and that 
 both from the rectory and Forge Farm 
 medicine and relief were sent to Ebenezer 
 Bird, the sick man showed no signs of im- 
 provement. Ague was very prevalent at 
 the fall of the year, and was much dreaded 
 by the country people. Though a strong 
 man, poor Ebenezer seemed unable to shake
 
 296 BAY RONALD. 
 
 it oiF, even thougli old Amos liad a sove- 
 reign remedy for tlie ' axey.' This charm 
 was somewhat similar to that one he had 
 given Dick for his burn. It ran as 
 follows : 
 
 ' Ague, ague, 1 thee defy, 
 Three days shiver, 
 Three days shake, 
 Make me well for Jesus' sake.' 
 
 Dick urged old Amos to let him send a 
 doctor; but at this the sick man roused 
 with signs of evident distrust, almost 
 terror. He did not want any doctor, he 
 muttered. He had got his death. Let 
 him be. 
 
 And, indeed, the day afterwards Ebenezer 
 died.
 
 297 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 One day later in the year, when there was 
 a slight sprinkling of snow upon the 
 ground, Richard Saxby was out shooting 
 in his father's preserves, attended by a 
 keeper. 
 
 ' Look, sir ! look !' cried the man, eager- 
 ly, seeing a hare at some distance crossing 
 their path. 
 
 Richie raised his gun and fired. It was 
 so easy a shot, even for a poor marksman 
 like young Saxby, that the keeper swore 
 under his breath as puss darted off in- 
 stantly at full speed, apparently unhurt. 
 
 ' Dang it! I believe it is a witch,' he ex-
 
 298 BAY RONALD. 
 
 claimed aloud, to relieve himself. ' It is 
 that same black hare, and three or four 
 times I have tried to shoot it myself, but 
 always in vain. Still, I thought this time 
 you must ha' touched it, and — what's 
 that?' 
 
 They had walked forward as they spoke, 
 and a drop of blood was visible on the 
 snow by the hare's tracks. 
 
 ' I have hit it. That is famous. I have 
 hit it. Let us follow it up,' cried Richie ^ 
 glad to escape any imputation on his shoot- 
 ing qualities. 
 
 They could see the hare still scudding 
 across some open snow-covered meadows 
 that lay between them and the belt of 
 woods skirting the high-road. Both men 
 began to run after it ; the keeper with real 
 enthusiasm, Richie inclined to treat the 
 matter as a joke or a bore ; yet thinking 
 it might be well to tell his father that
 
 BAY RONALD. 29^ 
 
 niglit of how he had hit a hare which 
 none of the keepers could even get a shot 
 at. The tracks went straight through the 
 wood, out by the farm gate, and across 
 the lane up to old Amos Bird's cottage 
 door. As both master and man stopped 
 short panting, they looked at each other 
 in surprise. Two large gouts of blood 
 were visible on the very threshold. 
 
 ' Go in, sir ; go in f whispered the keep- 
 er, with sudden, strange excitement. ' Don't 
 take a " no." The hare is your property; 
 you have a right to it.' 
 
 The idea of contradiction always roused 
 Richie's weak nature to obstinacy. He at 
 once knocked sharply, then lifting the 
 latch went in. 
 
 The cottage kitchen was empty except 
 for Patty, who hurried from the inner 
 bed-room with a look of dismay, almost 
 fear, on her pretty face.
 
 300 BAY RONALD. 
 
 ' Did you see a hare ? We know a hare 
 has come to this cottage ; don't try to con- 
 ceal it,' began both Richie and the keeper 
 in a breath. 
 
 ' A hare, sir ! What hare ?' Patty was 
 taking refuge, like her weak kind, in 
 evasions. 
 
 ' We'll soon find out. What's in the 
 bed-room here ?' 
 
 The keeper, to Richie's astonishment, 
 marched straight as he spoke into the 
 inner room, pushing Patty aside, who 
 tried to bar his path like a fluttering 
 lapwing. 
 
 Young Saxby followed in amused curi- 
 osity. Then a low exclamation came from 
 the keeper's lips. 
 
 Old Amos Bird was lying in bed, his 
 left arm tied up with several bandages 
 that were specked with blood. On his 
 visitor's entrance, the old man, who seemed
 
 BAY RONALD. 301 
 
 dozing, opened his eyes with a resentful 
 glare. 
 
 ' Is that you, sir ?' he feebly asked, dis- 
 daining speech with the keeper, yet look- 
 ing at him askance, even while speaking 
 to Richie in the background. An Eng- 
 lishman's cottage is his castle, and Amos 
 felt this entrance into the privacy of his 
 bed-room was more than unw^arrantable. 
 ' I sent word to the bailiff this morning 
 that I was ill, I did. I'll be up and about 
 to-morrow with the oxen. They'll take 
 no harm ; Patty will go and fodder them. 
 She knows them and they know she.' 
 
 ' We only came after a hare,' began 
 Richie, looking round. 
 
 But his ally the keeper had already 
 vanished into the kitchen, and thence 
 walked straight out of the cottage. In 
 surprise at this rapid retreat, Richie, with- 
 out troubling his head about old Amos
 
 302 BAY KONALD. 
 
 any more, stepped also to the dtiter door 
 and looked out, supposing tliB man had 
 bethought himself of tracking the hare 
 further. Then he heard a pleading voice 
 close behind. 
 
 ' Please, Mr. Saxby, for pity's sake ! Oh, 
 please, sir, leave the poor hare alone.' 
 
 He turned and saw Patty looking up in 
 his face with tears standing in her eyes, 
 and a flush, born of fright at her own 
 audacity, staining her cheeks the colour of 
 ripe haws. 
 
 ' Leave it alone ? And why ? Come, 
 you are a pretty girl, don't cry. There 
 now, tell me all about it;' whereupon 
 Richie, dropping his gun, chucked the 
 suppliant familiarly under the chin, think- 
 ing within himself she was monstrously 
 pretty. 
 
 ' It is my pet hare,' whimpered poor
 
 BAY RONALD. 303 
 
 Patty, lialf permitting, while yet receding 
 from the overtures of Richie's encircling 
 arm. ' Indeed, it was no poaching. Its 
 mother was shot, and I found it in the 
 woods one day when I went to bring in 
 grandfather's dinner. So I carried it home 
 and fed it from a little bottle at first, and 
 when it grew up it took to the woods 
 again ; but it always runs here for shelter 
 if it is frightened. I have hidden it in 
 the empty pig-stye. Will you come and 
 see?' 
 
 The pig-stye sounded unsavoury, how- 
 ever, and Richie was more intent upon 
 prosecuting his present little diversion. 
 
 ' How did your grandfather get hurt, 
 eh?' he asked, pinching Patty's ear, 
 
 ' It was the young ox, sir — Joey, I think 
 — I am not sure. His horn just caught 
 and ripped grandfather's arm.'
 
 304 BAY EONALD. 
 
 Patty was lying. 
 
 Richie thought as much, hut did not 
 particularly care. 
 
 He tried to snatch a kiss, but Patty re- 
 sisted him. Hitherto she had been fright- 
 ened, but now her independent gipsy blood 
 was asserting itself. 
 
 ^ If you don't, Fll take away the hare,' 
 threatened Richie. 
 
 This settled the controversy. 
 
 ' But — but, sir, you'll promise to leave 
 it ? You will tell the keepers not to shoot 
 it?' 
 
 ' ril promise to leave it now. If it goes 
 into Rookhurst demesne, it must take its 
 chance.' 
 
 Having got his kiss, and struggled for 
 two more, Richie marched with a conquer- 
 ing air into the lane. Behind the shelter 
 of a thorn-tree he found the keeper await- 
 ing him.
 
 BAY RONALD. 305 
 
 ' Well, sir ? ' asked the man, myste- 
 riously, with a curious look, ' did you 
 notice tkat ? The hare's tra^cks bloody to 
 the very door, and old Amos in bed with 
 a gunshot wound, I'll take my living 
 oath.' 
 
 ' Well, what of that, man ? The hare 
 was a pet one, and the girl keeps it in the 
 pig-stye,' laughed Richie, contemptuously. 
 ' Do you want me to believe the old 
 Avomen's tales about witches ? Do you 
 think Amos can change himself into a 
 black hare, eh?' 
 
 The keeper gave an indistinct growl, 
 retired like a snail into its shell, and said 
 no more aloud. Dropping behind his 
 young master, he nevertheless thought a 
 deal. 
 
 • Queer doings ; queer doings !' he re- 
 iterated, under his breath. 
 
 It was not his business to say that, only 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 BAY RONALD. 
 
 last night, the mysterious black hearse, 
 with its four headless horses, was reported 
 to have crept along the lane between Rook- 
 hurst and the Forge Farm. So it had 
 done at intervals ever since Mrs. Saxby 
 w^as first dispossessed from Rookhurst ; so 
 it would do, the country folk declared, 
 until the right Saxbys were reinstated in 
 their old home. 
 
 How the idea started is instructive. Old 
 Amos first began it by dark hints that it 
 might be so. Black Jim, Ratclifi*e's stud- 
 groom, used to bang his fist on the table 
 in the alehouse, and say that it ' was 
 so.' 
 
 But naturally all the country folk kept 
 the matter quiet, and were especially care- 
 ful not to speak of it before the gentry. 
 These latter had a way of pouring scorn 
 upon any tales of ghosts, witches, and
 
 BAY RONALD. 307 
 
 such-like, that made those beneath their 
 level feel despised. So the coimnon peo- 
 ple held their tongues, feeling there were 
 more things under heaven than their so- 
 called superiors had any inkling of. 
 
 END OF THE EIRST VOLUME. 
 
 London : Printed by Duncan Mucdonald, Blenheim. House, W.