frr/.. 
 
 L I E) RAFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLR5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 8^3 
 R56San 
 v.l
 
 9.?
 
 AME JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 r.OMiOX: ]RI>TEI) BY T\II.LIAU CLOWES AXB SONS, STAMIOni) STREET 
 AND CHARTNG CROSS.
 
 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 FEEDERICK W. ROBINSON, 
 
 ACTHOB OF "GBANDMOTHKBV MONEY,' "A WOMAN'S ICANsOM," ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES, 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SAMPSON LOW, SOX, AND MARSTON, 
 
 MILTON HOUSE, LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 1867. 
 
 [The right')/ Translation ii- restrceiL}
 
 8^a 
 
 V. 1 
 
 TO 
 
 W. MOY THOMAS, Esq. 
 
 (a fellow worker in the great field), 
 
 ^{)is Storg 
 
 IS 
 INSCRIBED BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOK.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 A week's komance. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 
 
 "THE husbands' coach" 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MR. JUDGE COMES TO HIMSELF 12 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 THE OLD HOUSE BY THE BACKWATEK .... 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CAST BACK OX HERSELF . . . .... 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NED DELANCY FINDS MORE THAN HE BARGAINED FOR AT 
 
 PROSPECT TERRACE 43 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLAYS HIMSELF IN . . . .64 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 MR. .JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTER .... 79 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL . . . .94
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. PAGE 
 
 ON THE BALCONY 122 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TEMPTATION 137 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MARY JUDGE HAS A LONG NIGHT's WORK . . .151 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TAKEN PRISONER . 170 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AYNARD's ROOST ........ 180 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SUDDEN RESOLUTIONS 199 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ANNE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER 207 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A LIFT ON THE ROAD 229 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, W»n.CHESTER ..... 238 
 
 CHAPTER XVHI. 
 
 FOUND OUT ......••• -•^- 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 DELANCY's WARNING 269
 
 AN^E JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 A WEEK S ROAIAXCE. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "THE husbands' coach." 
 
 *•' If you please, Mr. Pownie, at what time to-night is 
 ' the husbands' coach ' expected ?' 
 
 *' Not afore nine, girl." 
 
 " The wind and rain will not make much difference, 
 I suppose, sir ?" 
 
 "Not unless the wind blows the whole kit over, 
 comino^ down Eo^ford Hill." 
 
 The first speaker, standing at the bar of the Gull 
 Inn, a poorly-clad and shivering girl of about sixteen 
 years of age, gave a little jump at the last remark of 
 the landlord, looked hard into his broad, surly face, 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Z ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 and fancied that she saw a joke there, for she laughed 
 spasmodically — 
 
 " Ah, that would be a wind ! Good-day, sir." 
 Mr. Pownie did not respond to the good-day, but 
 called after her to shut the door as she went into the 
 street, which the wind and rain had cleared of all 
 humanity but herself two hours ago, at least. 
 
 All that day the wind and rain kept up that wild 
 game — at which they had played for years, off and 
 on, and always more on than off — at the little out-of- 
 the-way easterly settlement of Ilpham-on-the-Cliff ; for 
 it was generally breezy and cold weather at Ilpham, 
 and the "season" there — or what a dozen lodging- 
 house keepers called the season — was short in conse- 
 quence. Everything was against this Ilpham as a 
 watering-place. It was twelve miles from the railway 
 station at Wolchester : the place was small, ill-drained, 
 and perched on a brown ochery hill, thirty or forty feet 
 above the sea, which washed eternally at the soft earth, 
 and had even washed people out of their graves in the 
 churchyard on the lower level, and in the '• real winter 
 weather," that Ilpham people knew so well. It was a 
 place almost without boatmen, too, for ships gave it a 
 wide berth, and never paid visits there, or made wrecks 
 of themselves within twelve miles of the solitary-looking 
 jetty. There were about half a dozen boatmen, who 
 took the visitors on the water in the summer, and went 
 into the union, or to work at Barwich — a shipping port
 
 "THE husbands' COACH." 3 
 
 sixteen miles away — in the winter, when there was 
 nothing doing at Ilpham. No one lived by the visitors, 
 but the visitors helped to pay the rent, and to increase 
 the trade of a few shopkeepers, and of a few honest 
 villagers who played at shop in summer time, by 
 puttinsT their spare garden produce and their dead 
 poultry in the parlour windows. 
 
 It was summer time, and the town — for the Ilpham 
 folk would call it a town — was full enough. There 
 were, possibly, three hundred visitors at Ilpham, 
 reckoning those who lodged in the outskirts, or close 
 to a miserable brackish piece of Backwater that came 
 in and went out with the tide, and was at low water a 
 trifle — but a mere trifle — less suicidally suggestive than 
 when boats could row from one dank island to another. 
 Three hundred people there, who cared for no amuse- 
 ment but to talk to one another, to row or sail oc- 
 casionally, to walk on the cliff" or jetty, and to get 
 into bed, and out of reach of the east wind, by nine 
 o'clock at night ; people who were old or middle-aged 
 in the aggregate, who brought young children to dig 
 holes in the sands all day — who brought grown-up 
 daughters, for change of air, from the great town of 
 Wolchester — but who brought no single young men, 
 unless they were engaged young men, or required 
 wheeling about in the one Bath chair that stood, in 
 fine weather, opposite the Gull Inn, and was often 
 chained to a post there whilst its owner went hay-
 
 4 AXNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 making or harvesting. Londoners came not ; Barvs ich 
 people came not ; young men came not, unless under 
 moral compulsion such as few human beings could 
 withstand ; but a few old fogies loved the place for 
 habit's sake, and came year after year to their old 
 quarters, and thought that Ilpham was the finest water- 
 ing-place under heaven. Careful fathers and guardians 
 brought unruly daughters and wards here, knowing 
 how safe and " slow " it was ; young wives were secure 
 from persecution whilst husbands were at business from 
 Monday morning till Saturday afternoon, when the 
 coach started from the market-place at Wolchester, 
 and did the journey in two hours. 
 
 This coach, then — christened from time immemorial 
 " the husbands' coach " — was due at Ilpham at nine 
 o'clock that Saturday night, and at nine o'clock to the 
 minute, by the old-fashioned sentinel on the stairs at 
 the Gull, the girl whom we have already heard 
 making inquiries was at her post, nervous and ex- 
 pectant. The thin rag of a shawl that had draped her 
 chest at an earlier hour had not been replaced by a 
 more substantial covering, thouo^h the wind had become 
 more boisterous, and blew now direct from the sea, 
 instead of angle-wise across the Backwater, as it had 
 done all the morning. Still, thank heaven — and this 
 girl said "Thank heaven " as she looked up at the sky, 
 dark and starless — the rain had ceased, and the sidcr 
 paths were almost dry again. She murmured her hasty
 
 '•'THE HUSBANDS COACH. O 
 
 thanks for the sake of the traveller, whoever he was, 
 advancing to her. She had altogether forgotten that 
 her shoes were thin, and had only recently recovered 
 from their morning's saturation, or she would have 
 never walked so recklessly from one side of the road 
 to the other, disregarding all the puddles which she 
 encountered in her way. 
 
 She was not alone in the main street now, for there 
 were seven or eight wives and daughters, and two old 
 men and a boy, on the look-out with her— all well 
 wrapped up and warm, and prepared to brave the 
 night's inclemency for the sake of the earliest greet- 
 ing that they could offer the friends coming down 
 from "town." The ostlers from the Gull stable- 
 yard were in the street too — a nondescript with a 
 lantern, and a second nondescript with a barrow, who 
 was evidently prepared for luggage to any extent, and 
 who sat on his barrow, blowing at his fingers' ends as 
 though he were up Mont Blanc. 
 
 No one took heed of the girl in whom we are in- 
 terested — in whom we must be interested to the end of 
 this story, or give up the story in despair — and the girl 
 took no heed of any one. She was more impatient 
 than those around her as nine o'clock sounded from 
 the old church by the sea, and before the quarter was 
 chimed she had left the gas-lights at the Gull — for 
 they burned a little gas at Ilpham, and even lighted 
 up the few streets there when the moon was not likely
 
 6 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 to give any light of her own — and went quickly along 
 the road, and away from the little bustle that there 
 had been about her, as though to meet the coach upon 
 its way. After proceeding a hundred yards or more, 
 the girl halted to listen, walked another hundred yards, 
 listened again, and then returned, at a slower pace, to 
 the door of the Gull Inn, for the wind was in her face 
 now, and came up the road like a something solid, yet 
 intangible, that must stop her way or her breath in 
 due time. 
 
 " Now, if that sour old man behind the window there 
 has spoken the truth, instead of a jest, and the coach 
 is upside down at Egford Hill !" she muttered, as she 
 reached the inn once more. This was a grim thought, 
 that made her nervous, for though she had held aloof 
 from the visitors — as modest poverty always holds 
 aloof from the well-clad — she halted at once by the 
 side of a girl a year her senior, and who was standing 
 near her mother. 
 
 " Nothing, I suppose, is likely to have happened to 
 the coach to-night?" she said abruptly, and yet timidly. 
 
 "Oh dear, I hope not!" cried the girl. "Mother, 
 do you hear what this young — young person says?" 
 she added, as she caught the quality and colour of the 
 shawl in the lamplight, and, with a woman's acuteness, 
 knew her customer. 
 
 " Bless my soul, yes, I hear ! Can anything have 
 happened to the coach ? Good gracious ! Ostler !"
 
 "THE HUSBANDS COACH. 7 
 
 " Yes, marin." 
 
 '•' AVhat makes the coach so late ? This girl thinks 
 that there must have been an accident on the road." 
 
 " I did not say that," interrupted the girl thus indi- 
 cated, and turning with a sharpness on the preceding 
 speaker that made her take a backward step. '* I would 
 not think it for the world, so soon — so scon as this ! I 
 thought that this lady might be used to waiting here 
 for friends, and would be likely to know if the delay 
 was anything out of the common." 
 
 " Oh, it's orfen late ; it's all manner o' times," 
 grumbled the ostler at once. " It keeps people on the 
 key-weewee, whether they likes it or not." 
 
 *' But it allers comes in right at last," struck in the 
 man on the barrow at this juncture. " For three and 
 thirty year ' the husbands' coach' to Ilpham hasn't met 
 with more nor a wheel off now and then, and a shoulder 
 or two put out in the fools who wouldn't fall icith the 
 coach, but hung on anyhow." 
 
 *' It isn't three and thirty year since old Joe Simes 
 broke his neck," said the ostler, who evidently resented 
 this intrusion on the conversation. 
 
 " Yes it ees." 
 
 " It isn't three and thirty year since the gentleman 
 was pitched off head fust, and picked up dead as a nit, 
 though." 
 
 " He threw hisself off a purpose ; that warn't the 
 coach's fault."
 
 8 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " No he didn't." 
 
 The man with the barrow was proceeding to prove 
 his case to the best of his ability, when a horn sounded 
 in the distance. The loiterers woke up to action ; 
 fresh men and women opened their street-doors to gaze 
 out at the arrivals ; the landlord of the Gull, in a hat 
 and worsted comforter, appeared upon his steps, and 
 the girl who had been anxious clapped her hands 
 unseen, in the fierce delight which seemed to over- 
 power her. 
 
 " He's coming, then !" 
 
 "Not— not your husband!" exclaimed the young 
 lady whom she had first addressed, and whose curiosity 
 was evidently aroused. 
 
 " No, that is not likely," answered the girl, with a 
 
 short, but not unnatural laugh. " If Oh, good 
 
 God ! — there is something the matter, after all !" 
 
 The people in the street looked more eagerly towards 
 the advancing coach, but could see nothing to arouse 
 their fears yet awhile. This girl had the sharpest of 
 eyes or the weakest of nerves. The four horses came 
 rattling into Ilpham with their burden in fair style ; 
 the guard was blowing his horn cheerily from the back 
 of the coach, the figures heaped upon the roof were at 
 their ease there, and consuming cigars innumerable, 
 judging by the bright red spots of flame with which 
 the muffled company seemed dotted. Stilly the girl 
 was right ; something was the matter, and they had
 
 "THE husbands' COACH." 9 
 
 been marvellous eyes to detect it as the coach came 
 swirling and grinding round the bend of the road, and 
 the sparks flew up about the wheels. Something was 
 the matter inside the coach ; for the head and shoulders 
 of a young man protruded from the left window, a 
 hand caught the guard by the foot and so startled that 
 functionary that he nearly dropped his horn into the 
 street, and there was much gesticulation from the gen- 
 tleman, and many looks backward into the vehicle from 
 which he had half emerged. 
 
 The guard swung himself to the ground like an 
 acrobat, and came running on toward the Gull, reach- 
 ing the inn at the same time as the coach, and fixing 
 the landlord at once, before the passengers or the 
 luggage were too much upon his mind. 
 
 " A passenger taken queer upon the journey," he 
 bawled, '' and brandy's wanted ; he's fainted clean off 
 now, and the gentleman says he won't answer for the 
 consequences if we don't make haste." 
 
 " It's my father ! I know it Is !" cried the girl, who 
 had heard all this. " Oh, please, let me in !" she 
 screamed, struggling violently with the door-handle of 
 the coach. " I think that I can manage him — that he 
 will come round for me !" 
 
 The head of the young man re-appeared, and a 
 pleasant head it was to look upon, crowned by a mass 
 of waving brown hair. 
 
 ''Oh, are you related to this old gentleman? I'm
 
 10 ANXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 very glad to hear it. Don't be frightened ; he'll come 
 round when he gets into the inn. I am as good as a 
 doctor, and know exactly how it is. Don't try to push 
 in here, my good child, unless you want to jump upon 
 your father's countenance, and settle him at once. A 
 room where there's a fire — see to that." 
 
 " He had better come home at once, sir." 
 
 '• Where's home ?" 
 
 " Round by the Backwater, sir." 
 
 " No, I think not, for a few minutes. Now, land- 
 lord, do look alive. Upon my soul, if there's an 
 inquest, I'll speak of the unjustifiable delay at the Gull 
 Inn, and get your name mentioned in the verdict." 
 
 The landlord gasped at this ; and the girl, who had 
 been wrinorino^ her hands and beatino^ them tosjether, 
 gave a wild cry again. 
 
 "Oh, I forgot you," said the young man. "It's all 
 right," he added, in a lower tone ; "but country people 
 are so slow. Lend a hand, somebody, to lift this old 
 fellow out, will you ?" 
 
 Hands were quickly forthcoming ; a few who had 
 arrived by the coach were anxious to assist before wel- 
 comino: their friends, and in a few moments a tall, 
 white-haired old man, with his eyes closed and his 
 mouth open, was half carried, half bundled into the 
 bar-parlour of the Gull, whither the daughter fought 
 her way also, despite the opposition offered by those 
 servants who were ignorant of her relationship.
 
 "THE husbands' COACH." 11 
 
 Thus " the husbands' coach" came to Ilpham that July 
 night, and brought with it strange things, from which 
 were to be evolved strange incidents, that should cross 
 and re-cross lives that had hitherto been quiet and 
 monotonous, recking not of the romance which a turn 
 of the wheel might bring uppermost — even the wheel of 
 *' the husbands' coach" from Wolchester.
 
 12 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 MR. JUDGE COMES TO HIMSELF. 
 
 Mr. Judge came to himself in due course, but spoke 
 irrelevantly at first. 
 
 *' It was all her fault ! It was as bad as murder !" 
 
 " Papa !" 
 
 " There, let him be, my dear ; don't talk to him just 
 at present," said the young man who had been of as- 
 sistance to his fellow-traveller. " You will make him 
 feel faint again, by catching at his hand like that" 
 
 The hand was dropped at once. 
 
 " I'm patient, sir." 
 
 " You're over anxious ; and yet I tell you that it was 
 only the cold wind that was a trifle too much for him as 
 an outside passenger." 
 
 " He's all and everything that I love, sir — almost," 
 she added, with a sudden reserve, as some one or some- 
 thing away from the Gull Inn recurred to her. 
 
 "Indeed!"
 
 MR. JUDGE COMES TO HIMSELF. 13 
 
 The young man spoke pityingly, as though he thought 
 that it was a hard fate for all affection to be bound up 
 in that grim-faced, long-limbed man in rusty black, who 
 sat in an arm-chair at a short distance from the fire, 
 shuddering a little, and staring vacantly at the flame, 
 which was reflected dimly in his glassy grey eyes. He 
 was a man who looked older than his years, for his face 
 was lined and haggard enough for any age. A few 
 short, sharp years of suffering, mental or physical, or 
 both, had probably marked him like that ; for she who 
 knelt at his feet, and had called him father, might have 
 well passed at first sight, and especially on that occa- 
 sion, for his grand-daughter. In the bright light of the 
 gas the daughter looked pale and poor enough, but hers 
 was a face very striking in its earnestness, the young 
 man thought, and illumined by two large dark eyes, 
 which had been unpleasantly inquiring, and yet which 
 had only sought the truth from him, and, as the phrase 
 runs, looked him through for it. 
 
 The stranger was slowly pulling on -his gloves and 
 watching his patient, and in the background the land- 
 lord and his wife — the latter with a grim face to match 
 her husband's — stood witnesses of the scene, and com- 
 pleted the picture. 
 
 " You think he'll do, then ?" said the landlord, in a 
 stage whisper. 
 
 " Oh, he'll do famously now," was the reply. " How 
 far is it to the Backwater ?"
 
 14 AXXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Not ten minutes' walk across the marsh-land, 
 yonder." 
 
 ^' So far as that?" 
 
 The young man appeared to hesitate, and the land- 
 lord said, very quickly : 
 
 "Every bed in the house is taken for to-night, and 
 we've no room to spare, even if the gentleman could 
 afford to pay his way." 
 
 " Ah, it's a nuisance when a gentleman can't," said 
 the other, carelessly. " I have found that out long ago." 
 
 The landlord and landlady looked more closely at 
 the speaker, who was well dressed, but who might be 
 one of those London swindlers of whom they had heard 
 a great deal. This might be a bad lot altogether, and 
 the sooner they were out of the Gull the better. It 
 might be altogether " a dodge," thought the landlord 
 also — for he was a man of many suspicions, and had 
 not lived at Ilpham all his life — and these were three 
 members of a gang who had possibly contrived this 
 little expedient to throw honest people off their guard. 
 
 " I shall be glad when the room can be spared, and 
 I should like to know who pays for the trouble and the 
 brandy. He's had a sight of brandy, and you^ve slopped 
 a lot more on to our rug, I see." 
 
 " A good action is ahvays its own reward," said the 
 younger traveller, drily, as he tried to fasten his glove- 
 button with his teeth, and even worried at it like a 
 terrier.
 
 MR. JUDGE COMES TO HIMSELF. 15 
 
 " Yes, but- 
 
 " Look here, good Gull," he interrupted, to the an- 
 noyance of the landlord ; " you say nothing of the 
 brandy, and I'll say nothing of my services. You have 
 lost some valuable spirits, I have lost some valuable 
 time. You can replace your spirits, but my time no 
 money can buy back for me !" 
 
 " I don't happen to know who you are, sir," said the 
 landlord, taken aback by the melodramatic air which 
 the young man had suddenly assumed, but still inclined 
 to fight every inch of his ground, " or what your time 
 is valued at ; but my brandy's one and tuppence a 
 quartern : and if you've had room and fire and gas for 
 nothing, that's handsum on my part, I think." 
 
 " I shan't pay for the brandy, unless you summon 
 me," said the other, very decisively ; " and these good 
 people never ordered it, I'll take my oath before any 
 magistrate in the world ; so you cannot summon them, 
 you know." 
 
 " I'll pay — I'll pay in a minute," said a new and 
 sharp voice, at this juncture, " when I can find my 
 purse." 
 
 " Papa !" cried the daughter. 
 
 "Yes, yes, Anne, I can pay, of course, with a 
 quarter's salary in my pocket," he said. " What is all 
 this wrangling about ? No one is asked, or expected, 
 to pay for me. How came I here at all ?" 
 
 He passed a thin but full-veined hand over his
 
 16 AXXE JUDGE, SPIXSTER. 
 
 forehead, pushed back his white hair, and glared round 
 the room, looking fiercely at each of its inmates in turn, 
 till his eyes rested once more on his daughter, when 
 they softened wondrously. 
 
 " Well, Anne, has the sea air done you any good 
 yet?" 
 
 " I think that it has." 
 
 " Not too cold for you at Ilpham ? This is Ilpham ?" 
 he asked, more dreamily. 
 
 '' Yes ; Ilpham-on-the-Cliff." 
 
 " How did I get here ?" he said, tapping his fore- 
 head. " I do not remember yet awhile. I was out- 
 side the coach, and then " 
 
 "And then the cold doubled you up," unceremo- 
 niously broke in his late fellow-traveller, " and you had 
 a shivering fit, or a fit of some kind that was not com- 
 fortable, and we put you inside ; and there you told me 
 a falsehood." 
 
 " What !" cried the man, indignantly. 
 
 " You said that you felt much better ; and fainted 
 away to prove it." 
 
 " And they brought me on in a swoon, instead of 
 stopping by the way. That was kind of them. They 
 must have guessed that I was anxious to get on." 
 
 " The coachman was behind time, and if he had been 
 inclined to stop, there was no place to stop at. It's a 
 miserable country, I fancy," he added, more to himself 
 than to his audience.
 
 MR. JUDGE COMES TO HIMSELF. 17 
 
 The man who had stepped out of his swoon looked 
 askance, and yet eagerly, at the speaker. 
 
 ** You are the gentleman whom we overtook on the 
 road, who would walk on a little way before we started, 
 who sat beside me, and — and talked a great deal," said 
 he, not quite sure yet of all antecedents. 
 
 *' The gentleman who was kind enough to take care 
 of you for the rest of the journey, papa, and to do his 
 best for you here. Mr. Judge," said the daughter 
 turning to the stranger, " will thank you in a minute. 
 Mr. Judge is not a discourteous man." 
 
 " No, no, I hope not," said Mr. Judge, quickly. 
 " I thank you at once, sir, for all past assistance. I 
 thank you very warmly, sir, for you have acted kindly 
 and generously towards me." 
 
 He did not speak warmly, however. The words 
 were uttered very rapidly, as if he were anxious to get 
 rid of them and discharge the obligation. A close 
 observer might have fancied that Mr. Judge was as 
 suspicious of this stranger as the landlord of the Gull. 
 
 " Pray do not mention my services," said the young 
 man, bowing. 
 
 " My father will have great pleasure in thanking 
 you more fully in the morning, if you will favour him 
 with your name and address," said his daughter. 
 
 " My dear !" said the father, quickly. 
 
 " My name is Delancy, my address is, or will be. 
 Prospect Terrace. I shall be pleased to hear that Mr. 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 ANXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 Judffe is none the worse for his ride. I do not think 
 that he will be." 
 
 " Oh, you're the new church horganist then, sir, that 
 is going to settle here," said the landlord, more obse- 
 quiously. 
 
 " Or to be settled here," he added, significantly. 
 
 " I'm sure, any orders, sir " began the landlady. 
 
 " Yes, I'm quite sure that they will, thank you," he 
 said, interrupting again, which was evidently a weak- 
 ness of his. '' Now, Mr. Judge, if I can be of any 
 further help in seeing you home, for instance, I am at 
 your service." 
 
 " I am all right enough now, sir, thank you," was the 
 cold reply, despite the effort of the speaker to feel 
 grateful. *'I have my health very well in general, 
 and am pretty strong considering." 
 
 "Considering what?" was the sharp question here. 
 "Considering all things," answered Mr. Judge. 
 " Anne, bid the gentleman good-night, whilst I fasten 
 my stock and pay for the brandy." 
 
 Mr. Delancy for an instant seemed inclined to in- 
 terrupt him again — even to interfere concerning the 
 payment. His hand wandered instinctively to his 
 breast-pocket for a purse that he had there, then he 
 altered his mind, and listened to Anne Judge's thanks 
 for all the trouble that he had taken for her father's 
 sake. 
 
 " Upon my honour, I have been already thanked too
 
 MR. JUDGE COMES TO HIMSELF. 19 
 
 much, my girl," he said, in an embarrassed tone. " I 
 don't like thanks. I don't see the use of them after a 
 thing's done. You would have picked me up — or 
 rather, have told somebody who could carry me to pick 
 me up — if I had been down on my luck, Anne 
 Judge." 
 
 He let his hand fall on her shoulder for an instant 
 with a familiarity that would have been more striking 
 had she looked less a child just then, and a pleasant 
 laugh escaped him. Anne did not see any impropriety 
 in this friendliness ; she was a child still in many things, 
 and this man had been kind to her and hers ; but old 
 Judge, having settled his little account, drew his 
 daughter's arm hastily within his own, and his daughter 
 as quickly away from her companion. He was as up- 
 right as a dart now ; only 'his face was very old and 
 time-worn. 
 
 " Good-night, sir ; we are going now." 
 
 " I am going your way, I think," said Mr. Delancy. 
 
 "Quite the contrary. Prospect Terrace is on the 
 green near the jetty, and the Backwater is round here 
 to the right." 
 
 " Oh, is it ? I am a stranger to the place." 
 
 " You will not like it, then." 
 
 " 1 shall drop in some time to-morrow, just to see if 
 you are quite well, Mr. Judge." 
 
 Mr. Judge took a couple more inches to his stature, 
 
 " Pardcm me, sir ! but I hope that you will not."
 
 20 
 
 " Oh ! if you object," said Mr. Delancy, reddening 
 for the first time, *' of course I will not come." 
 
 *' Those who come to us — for we are poor people, sir 
 — we generally find actuated by one of two motives — 
 curiosity or charity. We are rich enough and proud 
 enough to resent either at present." 
 
 " Very well, Mr. Judge," said Delancy ; " and, 
 although I am neither a charitable nor a curious man, 
 I will stay away." 
 
 '' In our position we expect to make no friends," Mr. 
 Judge condescended to explain, " and we do not want 
 any. Anne and I get on together very well, indeed, 
 thank God, and she misses nothing. Do you, dear ?" 
 
 "Nothing — now," was the answer, and Edmund 
 Delancy fancied that she sighed before she spoke, and 
 looked up into the worn face of her father. 
 
 " This by way of an explanation to which you are 
 entitled, Mr. Delancy, for your kindness and attention," 
 said Mr. Judge ; " and now, good-bye !" 
 
 He raised his hat ; Mr. Delancy imitated his example, 
 and then father and daughter turned their faces to the 
 Backwater, over which they could hear the wind howling 
 like a creature demented, in their first steps towards it. 
 
 " Now, where on earth have I met that old fellow ?" 
 muttered Edmund Delancy, as he looked after their 
 retreating figures.
 
 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE OLD HOUSE BY THE BACKWATEK. 
 
 Of the few coast towns and villac^es of Enorland which 
 the sea appears to be gradually insulatino- from the 
 mainland — stealing silently round them, cutting across 
 a piece of fen, or lower ground, a mile to the right or 
 left, and then working onwards by degrees at its in- 
 sidious process of land-stealing — Ilpham-on-the-Cliff 
 was not the least remarkable. 
 
 The sea had stolen round three-fourths of Ilpham ages 
 ago, and those old folk who, by strange choice or neces- 
 sity, had remained in this part all their lives, could 
 point out where land had been, and where the Back- 
 water had stopped in their younger days, and would 
 prophesy that if things were not looked into — and who 
 will look into things in out-of-the-way spots like these ? 
 — Ilpham would be found at some high tide or other 
 standing fifty yards or so out at sea. As this was not 
 likely to happen for the next hundred years, and Ilpham 
 was not troubled about posterity, the local authorities
 
 22 
 
 cared little concerning the Backwater, and were not too 
 enero^etic in their efforts to resist the encroachments 
 upon the sea-board proper. 
 
 A quarter of a mile from Ilpham, separated from the 
 Backwater by a narrow footpath, stood a one-sided, 
 dilapidated hut, built of wood, which had given way 
 somewhere in its supports, and was inclining ominously 
 towards the water. It was to this abode that Mr. 
 Judge and his daughter traced their steps after bidding 
 good-night to the young man who had come down 
 from Wolchester ; and a cheerless and miserable abode 
 enouD^h it looked in the shadows that surrounded it and 
 them. 
 
 It stood a long way from the town — even from the 
 rear of the town, where the Backwater folk, a class by 
 themselves, herded together, and contrived by various 
 means to keep breath in their bodies: It shunned 
 Ilpham as much as its present owner shunned society ; 
 it had turned its back upon the town, and its two 
 windows towards the water, as though the prospect 
 were more lively over the waste and the ooze, than 
 across the dusty road and scanty herbage between it and 
 the cluster of red house-roofs. In the daytime and at 
 high tide there appeared to be miles of water stretching 
 away over the low land, broken here and there by 
 islands, which cropped suddenly upwards, and were bits 
 of old Ilpham that the sea had stolen in times past and 
 then had dropped, as articles too heavy to carry off at
 
 THE OLD HOUSE BY THE BACKWATER. 23 
 
 present, but left to be called for at a future day. 
 A mile or so distant, on one of these islands, a boat- 
 house, or a house of some kind, had been hastily 
 knocked together, and was also leaning forwards after 
 the fashion of Anne Judge's habitation ; and this was 
 the only feature in the landscape that broke the dead 
 level of water and fen-land, and looked rather more 
 ghastly than otherwise, with a dull green light, like a 
 blurred railway- signal, in its one up-stairs window. 
 
 It was to this lio^ht that Mr. Judo^e's attention was at 
 once directed, as father and daughter advanced towards 
 their cottage. 
 
 " What is that, Anne ?" he inquired, pointing with 
 his stick across the long waste of water. " I have 
 been here before — I knew this place well before you 
 were born — and I do not remember the green light." 
 
 " Aunt thinks that it is a signal for those at sea." 
 
 " The lighthouse is round the cliff, and this light 
 shows more across the country than the sea. In my 
 time," — he spoke dismally, as though he felt that his 
 time was irrevocably gone, — "that house held a boat 
 or two belonging to the Aynards, but even the boat- 
 keeper lived away from it" 
 
 " There is a light in that up-stairs window twice a 
 week, at least," answered Anne ; " and I have seen — 
 although aunt will not believe me — a man's figure pass 
 between the light and us. The window glass is green, 
 I think, not the light within the room."
 
 24 AXNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " He must be a more miserable wretch than I am,'* 
 he muttered to himself, " to live in such a place as 
 that." 
 
 They had descended along the footpath which dipped 
 here suddenly with the land, and possibly accounted for 
 the cottage's incline, and were now standing on the very 
 threshold of home. He stopped to whisper to his child 
 before he knocked. 
 
 *' You are happy here, Anne ?" 
 
 *' Yes," she answered, '• almost." 
 
 " Almost !" he echoed. 
 
 "Not so happy as when you and I were living 
 together at Wolchester," she said, with a sigh, " and I 
 kept house for you and went to school of an evening 
 when you were home from business, and could mind 
 house for yourself. Oh ! they were dear old times, 
 father, and I pray they may come back again." 
 
 " Hush ! you don't know what you are praying for." 
 
 "I was not always w^ell, but then I worked too hard 
 at my books, and you were anxious that I should not 
 disgrace my clever, well-read father. The Judges were 
 good scholars, all of them ; and I have been studying 
 down here too." 
 
 " That is foolish of you, Anne," he said gently ; 
 " you are at the seaside for your health. The doctor 
 tells me that you must not learn too hard, but get all 
 the fresh air that you can." 
 
 " So I do. I get too much here ; it comes in through
 
 THE OLD HOUSE BY THE BACKWATER. 25 
 
 a hundred places across the Backwater, and fans me off 
 to sleep at night." 
 
 "Your aunt is very careless," he said, starting at 
 this. " She should see to the draughts. I'll — I'll see 
 to them myself to-morrow. I'll only trust myself in 
 this matter." 
 
 " There's no harm, dear ; I'm getting very strong." 
 
 " Thank God to hear you say this V he said, heartily ; 
 '' perhaps the home may come back again, and you and 
 I be the figures in it. It is not wholly impossible that 
 I — I may get another berth, where it is not a necessity 
 to live upon the premises." 
 
 " And then shall we not be very happy? What is 
 to hinder us ?" 
 
 " Your marriage, perhaps," he said, almost sullenly. 
 
 " My marriage ! Why, have I not told you over 
 and over again, even when I was years younger, when 
 you used to fret about it like a dear old goose with 
 one silly mania in his head ?" 
 
 " Haven't you told me, what ?" 
 
 " Tiiat I am x\nne Judge, spinster, to the end of the 
 chapter ? Is it not a promise between you and me ?" 
 
 " Well, no — not quite a promise," he said hesi- 
 tatingly. "I wouldn't tie you down to such a cruel 
 promise as that, when the day may never come to take 
 care of me either. It's a little jest between us, dear ; 
 nothing more than that !" 
 
 They stood lingering there in the cold night air as
 
 26 AXNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 though such talk as theirs was likely to be forbidden 
 by her who waited indoors for them, or to be out of 
 place with her for listener. They spoke in whispers, 
 est the watcher should be aware of their presence also, 
 and it w^as the daughter who first recalled the old man 
 to real life. 
 
 " How we are wasting time ! and you so cold too," 
 she said, knocking hastily with her knuckles at the door. 
 
 " Who's there ?" inquired a deep, harsh voice within. 
 
 " It is I, and — father. I have him here safe at last, 
 aunt." 
 
 There was a stately march across the room, and then 
 ensued a struggle with the door, which clung tightly to 
 its frame, and was only to be opened with a wrench that 
 shook the house and the windows in it, and left Aunt 
 Judge panting with her efforts. 
 
 "It sticks worse than ever, after the rain ; it's 
 dropped another half-inch, I believe," she muttered, 
 looking at the door very attentively from the outside, 
 before turning to welcome her brother to her house. 
 
 " Well, Mary ! — not yet out of the world, you see." 
 
 " Well, John, you're here, then !" was the reply. 
 " I fancied that you would stay away, considering what 
 a day this has been." 
 
 " I would have come through fire instead of water, 
 after fighting so hard for permission to leave." 
 
 " Ah ! you were always headstrong. Anne takes 
 after you."
 
 THE OLD HOUSE BY THE BACKWATER. 27 
 
 She held the door open and stood back, whilst her 
 brother and niece stepped into the room, the brother 
 taJdng a cold, fishy hand in his for an instant as he 
 passed her. 
 
 Mary Judge was as tall for a woman as Mr. Judge 
 was for a man, and looked almost his height, she carried 
 her five feet seven inches so inflexibly, whilst he had 
 given way in the back, and was only upright in cases 
 of emergency, as we have seen when he bade Mr. 
 Delancy good-night outside the Gull Ina But then 
 Mary Judge was fifteen years her brother's junior, and 
 had had less trouble, or borne her share of trouble with 
 that greater power of endurance which her younger 
 years had warranted. But hers was not a happy-looking 
 face, and was more hard and angular than her brother's, 
 if scored less with lines. It looked the face of a woman 
 who had resisted — who had struofo^led with a somethino^ 
 bitter and intense that might have broken the heart of 
 one less strong than she — and who had conquered, at 
 great cost to herself, and lived down the blow : a grave- 
 faced woman, with a soured expression of countenance, 
 that had been handsome in its youth — a light-haired 
 woman, with cold, grey eyes, that looked steadily at 
 everything within their range, even at the poverty by 
 which she was surrounded, and to which she was accus- 
 tomed as to the every-day life which nothing could 
 change. 
 
 " You came by * the husbands' coach,' " she said, more
 
 28 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 for the sake of saying something than from any interest 
 that she might take in the reply. 
 
 " Yes, Mary, by * the husbands' coach,' as it is very 
 foolishly called. As if fathers were not as likely to come 
 down from business as husbands." 
 
 " Or as if husbands were only worth the looking for 
 and living for," added she. 
 
 " Yes, — yes, exactly," he said, after a perceptible 
 start at his sister's last remark. 
 
 He stretched his thin hands towards the fire which 
 had been prepared for him, and which he found as 
 acceptable that July night as he had found the tire at 
 the Gull Inn ; and his daughter, who had tossed her 
 shawl to the end of the room, was already kneeling at 
 his feet, with her hands crossed upon his knees. It was 
 a tine, thoughtful face, if not wholly regular ; and — yes, 
 Edmund Delancy was right in his idea — there was a 
 world of expression in it. 
 
 " Papa was taken ill on his journey, aunt. It was too 
 cold for him outside the coach, and if it had not been 
 for a gentleman with him, I don't know what would 
 have happened." 
 
 " I do not think that he was of much use," said 
 Mr. Judge, very ungratefully ; " any one could have 
 seen that I was not quite myself, and had me carried 
 before the fire for a few moments. It was kind to 
 take the trouble, perhaps, but we must not magnify 
 into eternal debts of gratitude, Anne, the common
 
 THE OLD HOUSE BY THE BACKWATER. 29 
 
 courtesies of life. I'm weak, I'm lame, — and a little 
 upsets me." 
 
 " You have been disposed to fainting-fits for years," 
 said Miss Judge. 
 
 " I have not, Mary," he said, denying this fact with 
 energy, as though his feelings were wounded by the 
 assertion ; " really, I have not !" 
 
 *' I have seen you faint away." 
 
 " Once — only once," he said, with a nervous glance 
 towards his daughter ; '' and then I had been ill for 
 weeks before. Plenty of work for you down here, 
 Mary ?" he asked, with sudden interest. 
 
 " About the same as usual. I have no reason to com- 
 plain ; if I had, I do not suppose my complaints would 
 be heard beyond my bedroom." 
 
 '' No, no, I suppose not. You were always a good 
 one to bear anything — so was I, for the matter of that 
 — so will Anne be," laying his hand on her hair as he 
 spoke, " if you and I cannot keep trouble from her." 
 
 " We can try," was the gloomy answer. 
 
 " Ah ! but we can try hard." 
 
 " And she will try hard for herself," said the girl, 
 looking up at her father with a smile, ^' and will have 
 none of it. I'll fight with all my strength to keep it 
 away, just as aunt, and I fight to shut the door when 
 the wind comes dead against us over the Backwater. 
 Why, I'll always laugh it away when you are with me." 
 
 " That's well said."
 
 30 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 ^' Had we not better have supper?" suggested Aunt 
 Judge, "it's late enough. We're burning coals and 
 candle, and you two have all to-morrow to talk, if you 
 like." 
 
 " It is late, and Anne must not keep late hours, the 
 doctor says, and his will is law, my girl, if mine is 
 not. Besides, I have to settle with your aunt for board 
 and lodging here, and there's business to do whilst girls 
 like you are in their beauty-sleep." 
 
 " And to-morrow, if the weather clears up, father, 
 what a glorious walk and talk we'll have together." 
 
 " Ay, God willing, that we will !" 
 
 The three drew chairs to the table, and commenced 
 their meal. There was half a Dutch cheese for supper, 
 some dark bread — evidently as hard in its nature as 
 she who had prepared the feast — a dish of salad, and 
 a jug of thin ale, the latter especially provided for the 
 guest who had come by coach to Ilpham. But the 
 guest was neither hungry nor thirsty, though he feigned 
 to appear so for a while, till the shallowness of the 
 pretence suggested itself even to him. 
 
 " I had a hearty meal before I left Wolchester," he 
 said, apologetically ; " chops and things." 
 
 His sister looked at him, and, though aware of it, he 
 studiously evaded her glance. 
 
 "One cannot always be eating," she said, as she 
 prepared to pour the ale back into a wine-bottle, and 
 cork it up carefully for his Sunday's dinner. " Anne,"
 
 THE OLD HOUSE BY THE BACKWATER. 31 
 
 to her niece, " you had better go up to our room now. 
 I can make your father's bed down here, on the sofa 
 before the fire, where there'll be warmth for hours yet." 
 
 Mr. Judge shivered, and looked at the tablespoonful 
 of coals in the grate, as if he doubted its power of 
 holding out. 
 
 " And you'll not keep him up too late, going into 
 accounts, aunt?" said Anne, timidly, "for he's tired 
 with his journey." 
 
 "Am I likely to keep late hours?" she rejoined. 
 " Have I not said already that we are wasting light 
 and fire here ? Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night, aunt — good-night, papa." 
 
 She kissed them both before she went away, her 
 fathei" the longer and the more afi'ectionately, as was 
 natural enough. At the foot of the stairs she said : 
 
 " I think that the day will be fine, the stars are 
 getting brighter. I can see them shining through the 
 window there," and she pointed to a Windless lattice 
 casement over their heads as she spoke. " I'll pray 
 for the clouds to keep away all day to-morrow. That's 
 not wrong, aunt ?" 
 
 " I don't know if it's wrong," the aunt said, shortly. 
 " It's foolish, at any rate." 
 
 Undaunted by this last remark, Anne Judge went 
 up-stairSj singing softly to herself. Her father had 
 come home — her father, whom she had not seen for 
 three long months — and her heart was light enough
 
 82 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 now, though she had been full of grief and anxiety at 
 he Gull Inn. 
 
 When she had gone, and the door at the top of 
 the stairs was heard to close behind her, Mr. Judge 
 beckoned his sister to his side, and said : 
 
 " I have something to tell you, Mary. It's im- 
 portant ! — it's an awful truth !" 
 
 " Well ?" said the other, apathetically. 
 
 " I saw her on the coach — she was an outside pas- 
 senger to Ilphara, coming on here with me. My God, 
 think of that ! It was she who unnerved me, and not^ 
 the cold and fatigue — she, whose face I saw through 
 the veil, staring at me as it might have stared out of 
 its grave." 
 
 " It was fancy, John," said the sister, with a tone or 
 two of less harshness in her voice. 
 
 " No, it was the reality. I should have cursed it my 
 hardest, if 1 had not fainted away." 
 
 Might he not have cursed it at that moment ? For 
 whose face was it, white and eager-eyed, that peered 
 into the room through the lattice-window at which 
 Anne Judge had pointed a few minutes since, and then 
 dropped away as though it had been shot at, when the 
 man by the fire spoke in louder tones ? Was the face 
 that had pressed itself against the glass, in the anxiety 
 to see more closely into the room, the face of the 
 woman by whom the traveller had been already scared 
 that night ?
 
 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CAST BACK ON HERSELF. 
 
 " I THINK that you must have dozed off on the top of 
 the coach, and woke up in a fright," said Mary Judge, 
 after a minute's reflection on the subject, and a steady 
 stare at her ounce of red coal. 
 
 " You are hard of belief, you always were," replied 
 her brother, fretfully. 
 
 " It is too much like a dream. That she should 
 come back, and come back here, is not to be believed. 
 She is not a woman likely to repent — to think, at the 
 eleventh hour, of the one deserted." 
 
 " No ; Heaven forbid that !" was the strange reply. 
 " We do not want her to repent — to trouble with her 
 repentance those who can never forgive her. Poor 
 wretch ! let her keep to her life, whatever it is, and 
 leave us content wuth the life which she has made 
 for us." 
 
 ** Yes," said the sister, with lips compressed, and her 
 cold eyes still fixed upon the fire, " we do not want her 
 
 YOT. T. D
 
 34 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 here ; the reality would be worse than the dream for 
 you and Anne if she came to Ilpham to-night." 
 
 " I am sure that it was no dream," he said. " I was 
 not likely to be thinking of her. I was rejoicing in 
 the chance that set me free to see my daughter, when 
 that woman came between me and my thoughts." 
 
 " A coincidence — say a striking likeness," said Mary 
 Judge, petulantly. " I do not want to hear anything 
 more concerning this." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " When do you return home ?" 
 
 " On Monday next. I am due on Monday evening ; 
 so I go back by the return coach, and for three months 
 I see Anne no more." 
 
 " Unless we come to Wolchester. I can make my 
 lace as well there as here, and I am nearer to my 
 market for it. Still, here is rest, and no one knows 
 the Judges." 
 
 " You like this place ; I thought that it would suit 
 you. But," he added, *' we must not crush all the life 
 and spirit out of Anne." 
 
 " There is life enough in her," was the answer, " and 
 till she gets stronger we remain. If we return to Wol- 
 chester, a girl as sharp as she will soon see to the 
 bottom of this shabby mystery of yours." 
 
 " A shabby mystery indeed," said the father, with a 
 groan ; " the shabbiest of mysteries that ever kept her 
 pride from wholly breaking down."
 
 CAST BACK ON HERSELF. 35 
 
 " Your pride, you mean." 
 
 " And mine too ; for she must know nothing of the 
 life that I have been compelled to adopt, in order that 
 she might be free and with you. You have not told 
 her ?" he asked, eagerly. 
 
 " No ; it was a promise between us, and I keep it. 
 It might break her heart, — and I hold my peace. But 
 it was a foolish step, John." 
 
 " No, the wisest and best. I am out of the way — I 
 am one the less." 
 
 " It is a life with a falsehood in it ; and though I am 
 not a religious woman, still I hate lying." 
 
 " Anne is not strong enough to bear the truth. Why, 
 for all the world, Mary, I would not have her know it 
 yet awhile." 
 
 " How late it is !" said Miss Judge, who was evi- 
 dently weary of her company, and of the discussion 
 that had ensued. 
 
 " Not very late — we have to go into figures. I am 
 always particular about what I owe you ; and though 1 
 may never be able to pay you," he added, with a spas- 
 modic twitch at the corners of his mouth indicative of 
 his debt troubling him, " still the accounts may as well 
 be made up to this date." 
 
 " Very well," was the languid assent given. 
 
 Mary Judge regarded this as a mere form, and 
 leaned back in her chair, clutching her elbows with her 
 hands, whilst her brother ransacked his pockets for a
 
 36 ANXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 small dog's-eared memorandum-book, which he dis- 
 interred at last from a secret receptacle in his coat. 
 
 "There's ten shillings for the coach-ride to Wol- 
 chester and back added to this account." 
 
 " It's a deal of money." 
 
 " You regret it," he said, quickly. *' You could not 
 afford to lend it, at this time, with Anne on your 
 hands; it would have been better for me to have 
 waited another three months. She does not earn 
 enough to warrant your committing this extravagance 
 for my sake ?" 
 
 " It's a great deal of money," she said again ; " but 
 I have not told vou that I reo^ret it. Had I beo^rudo^ed 
 the mdney, do you think that I had not strength of 
 mind to tell you so ?" 
 
 He reflected. He could not call to mind any exhi- 
 bition of weakness on his sister's part. She had never 
 flinched from speaking the truth, however unpalatable 
 to him or herself ; she had been firm and unyielding 
 when others had been inclined to give way and give 
 up ; and he, remembering all this, said : 
 
 " I do you an injustice, Mary. Pardon me." 
 
 The woman nodded her head. She accepted his 
 apology, he thought, and he hastened to run over the 
 items in the account before him. 
 
 * " And you sent me a post-ofl5ce order for two shil- 
 lings and sixpence additional, in case of any expenses 
 upon the road that I might not be prepared for ?"
 
 CAST BACK OX HERSELF. 3/ 
 
 Miss Judge nodded again ; this time more gravely 
 than before. 
 
 " I laughed at this. Upon my word, I had quite a 
 small laugh to myself at your precaution, when the 
 letter came, and I thought that it was all unnecessary, 
 though kind of you. And now you'll be vexed to hear 
 that there's one and twopence gone for brandv at the 
 Gull Inn. John Judge a brandy drinker, at his time 
 and in his condition of life. That's a good joke — eh ?" 
 
 He looked towards his sister, a woman who had 
 never appreciated a joke in her life, and she eravely 
 nodded again in the affirmative. This assent to his 
 assertions aroused hira to a greater interest, and he saw 
 that Mary Judge was fast asleep. 
 
 •' I'm keeping you up, like an old brute as I am," 
 he said ; " and I dare say that you were astir early this 
 morning." 
 
 "At four o'clock ; there was much to do," she said, 
 opening her eyes again. ''But I'm not sleepy — ofo 
 on." 
 
 She hated lying ; but she was a woman, and a woman 
 never confesses to feeling sleepy in company. To do 
 her justice, however, her own impression was that she 
 had not closed an eye. 
 
 " We'll say nothing more about the accounts," he 
 said, restoring his memorandum-book to his pocket. 
 '' I owe you six pounds twelve and sixpence now. This 
 black suit cost a good deal, but will last a long while
 
 38 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 if my friend Smith don't wear it when I'm — in service. 
 That would be an unfair trick to play me, only I don't 
 think Smith would do it, especially as Smith is five 
 feet two, and I have ten inches the advantage of him. 
 I wear it once a week in Wolchester, of course." 
 
 " Of course," said his sister. 
 
 " And take great care of it, for your sake as well as 
 mine." 
 
 "I'll make your bed now on this. sofa, unless you 
 have anything more to say," said his sister, rising. 
 
 " Nothing more. Have you ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 *' Nothing about Anne — how you and she agree ?" 
 he added, anxiously; "now you are both under one 
 roof, and have no one to study but yourselves — how 
 you love her, and how she loves you ?" 
 
 " We understand each other, I hope. We get on 
 pretty well together, for two women with different ideas 
 of life. I make no complaint against Anne." 
 
 She spoke as if there might be room for improve- 
 ment in Anne Judge — as if they did not always agree 
 together, but it was as well to keep such little differ- 
 ences to herself, rather than waste time in complaining 
 to the father. His nervous glance of inquiry was not 
 responded to, and he let her arrange his bed for the 
 night before he spoke again. 
 
 " Thank you, Mary. And there is nothing to com- 
 plain of in Anne ? not really to complain of ?"
 
 CAST BACK OX HERSELF. ^J) 
 
 '* Oh I she's a good girl in her way — a little strange 
 and incomprehensible, as I may be to her. She will 
 tell you to-morrow that I am unkind to her, show no 
 sympathy with her and her pursuits, exercise my au- 
 thority too much — and when I think it necessary. I 
 like her better than I thought I should, now I have 
 her to myself." 
 
 All this was delivered in a cold, unsympathetic voice, 
 that did not inspire Mr. Judge with confidence. 
 
 " She and I have never exchanged a harsh word." 
 
 " You let her have her own way always. What 
 could she fret about ?" 
 
 " She never asked for anything that it was not in my 
 power to give her, or to persuade her from." 
 
 " You are her father, w^hom she loves ; I am only her 
 aunt, whom she tolerates." 
 
 " Come, come ; not so bad as that," said Mr. Judge, 
 coaxingly. " There, you are tired to-night, and out of 
 sorts. I have put you out of the common way by 
 coming here ; forgive me the intrusion, Mary, for old 
 times' sake." 
 
 "I don't want her love, mind," said Miss Judge 
 with her features very much contracted. " I have out- 
 lived all demonstrations, and am not the being on 
 whom a girl like her could lavish tenderness. I keep 
 affection back, and her with it. I don't want it. I se^ 
 the harm in it, and the good there is in keeping it 
 at bay."
 
 40 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " The good !" echoed Mr. Judge. 
 
 " She is impulsive, and seventeen next autumn : a 
 nature and an age that require watching." 
 
 " And that should be above suspicion, or you lower 
 the nature by distrust, Mary." 
 
 " She is your child, but I cannot forget that she is 
 hers, too," said Mary Judge. "I see that woman's 
 eyes again in Anne's, and the likeness is not pleasant 
 to me." 
 
 "She," — he spoke of his daughter, for he hastily 
 pointed to the room above them — "is curious about 
 her mother now. You told me in your note that she 
 had asked many questions lately." 
 
 " Yes ; and I have answered them." 
 
 " They were not to be evaded. Some day she would 
 have learnt the truth from other lips ; as she may have 
 already done before this sudden curiosity came upon 
 her. What did she say ?" 
 
 " She was grieved, horror-stricken. I think that 
 she hates and loathes her more than we do." 
 
 "She turns to me with more love — as for the one 
 struck down by a faithless wife. I am glad of that. 
 This is as it should be." 
 
 " The wind wails to-night like a woman," said his 
 sister, opening the door. " I think that it means rain 
 to-morrow, for all Anne Judge's prayers." 
 
 She passed round to the front of the house, and 
 closed the shutter upon the window through which the
 
 CAST BACK OX HERSELF. 41 
 
 stars had shone, and then went back and shut herself 
 in the hut once more. Another step had taken her to 
 the woman of whom they had spoken so much, and so 
 unforgivingly, as though the wrong rankled yet, and 
 the wound was still poisoned — the woman who had 
 turned the corner of the house as Mary Judge ad- 
 vanced, and had crouched down to the ground defence- 
 less, and at the mercy of those whom she had wronged. 
 She trembled lest she should be found there, and told 
 to go away for ever from them ; and yet, when the 
 door closed again, and she could hear Mary Judge 
 fastening the window-shutter from within, she felt sorry 
 that she had not braved it all, and known the worst, and 
 been warned from honest people's doors. She would 
 have seen her daughter Anne, who had been brought 
 up — they said that in that room — to hate and loathe 
 her more than they did ; the daughter for whom she 
 had searched so long, and who was only separated from 
 her by a few planks of worm-eaten wood. 
 
 A strange and desperate woman — perhaps a woman 
 who drank — for when the house was silent, she came 
 from her hiding-place, a figure not ill-clad, and bran- 
 dished one arm wildly in the air in a mad or theatrical 
 manner. 
 
 "I'd better end this life — I'd better drown myself! 
 I'm no good to any one ; and I might be pitied when 
 they found me in the morning lying out there some- 
 where at low tide. I'd better end it thus, I think."
 
 42 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 She dashed desperately forward, and even went a 
 foot deep in the water, to retreat again with a silent 
 clinging to that life of which she professed to be weary. 
 She sat down on the footpath that skirted the Back- 
 water, took her head between her hands, and rocked 
 herself too and fro — a very miserable woman, tired of 
 life, and yet afraid to end it in the fashion with which 
 so many sad lives, like mito hers, find their termination. 
 Finally she rose, and with her hands still pressing her 
 temples, she hurried away across the fields towards the 
 town like one impelled by a force which there was no 
 resisting for long, and to which she gave way again 
 like the weak woman that she was.
 
 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NED DELANCY FINDS MORE THAN HE BARGAINED 
 
 FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 
 
 Edmund Delancy had no difficulty in finding Pros- 
 pect Terrace after he had bidden the Judges good- 
 night. There was only one terrace of houses with 
 anything like a prospect, and that stood before a tri- 
 angular piece of turf, and stared out upon a broad 
 expanse of sea, on which nothing moved night or day, 
 as a rule, save the half-dozen pleasure-boats belonging 
 to the town. 
 
 A few old houses, of all sorts and sizes, loomed in- 
 distinctly to the right and left through the shadows ; 
 a private hotel gave some semblance of life in the 
 distance, for there were lights behind its window - 
 blinds ; there was a gas-lamp flickering on the jetty, 
 and a second on the green ; there was a wind that night 
 that sought to scour the sea-board of all humanity, 
 and it met Mr. Delancy full front as he turned the 
 comer, and nearly blew him back into the High Street.
 
 44 NED DELANCY FIXDS MORE THAN HE 
 
 " Yes, this is a very nice place," he muttered, as he 
 lowered his bead, held fast by his hat, and butted his 
 way along the Parade, as it was called. "A nice quiet 
 place, to be sure." 
 
 A more than ordinarily stroijg gust of wind led him 
 to reach out a hand, and hold for an instant by the iron 
 railings of the house on his left ; and whilst strugp^ling 
 with his breath and clinging with his other hand to the 
 rim of his hat, he became aware of a flight of steps 
 leading up to a door, on which was the very number 
 Four of which he was in search. 
 
 " Blown home, at last," he said ; and then ran up 
 the steps and announced his arrival by a rattling peal 
 upon the knocker. 
 
 A little servant-maid responded to the summons. 
 
 " This is Prospect Terrace, I think. Mrs. Simmonds, 
 Number Four?" 
 
 « Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then shut that confounded wind out," he said, 
 stepping into the hall, "and tell Mrs. Simmonds that 
 Mr. Delancy has arrived." 
 
 " If you please, sir, here's a gentleman been waiting 
 for you this half hour." 
 
 " Waiting for me ! I don't know any gentleman here. 
 Oh," he said, as a light suddenly flashed upon him, 
 " you mean Mr. Weston, of St. Bride's ?" 
 
 " No, sir, not the minister ; not a bit like a minister, 
 sir."
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 45 
 
 " Will you be kind enough to inform your mistress that 
 I wish to see her ?" said Mr. Delancy, very decisively. 
 
 " I was to ask you to be so good as to step in here 
 a moment, sir." 
 
 " Then why did you ^ot ask me before, my girl ?" 
 he replied, as he passed into the front room — the door 
 of which the maid had opened for him — and found 
 himself in the presence of Mrs. Simmonds, a short, 
 stout woman of forty, with a fat, rosy face protruding 
 from a voluminous white cap. Edmund Delancy felt 
 that his tea and sugar were safe at once, and that he 
 might leave his keys about with impunity. She was 
 undoubtedly a worthy woman, if unwieldy. 
 
 " I was beginning to get afraid that you hadn't come 
 by the coach, Mr. Delancy," she exclaimed, upon his 
 entrance ; " for I presumes you are the gentleman who 
 is expected to play the organ for us to-morrow at St. 
 Bride's?" 
 
 "And who took your rooms for three months cer- 
 tain, on the recommendation of Mr. Weston. Yes — 
 exactly : I'm the organ-man." 
 
 " Yes, sir, if you please," she said, dropping a 
 curtsey ; for this was no highly-starched landlady like 
 a duchess disguised, whom our readers may have en- 
 countered at fashionable watering-places, but a land- 
 lady of the old school, and one who esteemed her 
 lodgers, and looked upon them with motherly eyes 
 whilst they stayed with her.
 
 46 NED DELANCY FINDS MORE THAN HE 
 
 " Has Weston — Mr. Weston," he corrected, " left 
 any message for me ?" 
 
 " A note, sir, and a roll of music." 
 
 " Bother the music ! where's the note ?" 
 
 "On your mantelpiece, sir — first floor front, where 
 there has been a gentleman waiting for you a long 
 time." 
 
 " What kind of a gentleman ?" 
 
 " A hairy gentleman, rather," summed up Mrs. Sim- 
 monds ; " about six and thirty, I should think." 
 
 " Well, what's his name, ma'am ?" 
 
 " He didn't give no name." 
 
 *' Confound it! and my luggage came yesterday, and 
 my desk is left on the table, I suppose. My dear 
 madam," he remonstrated, "you must really be a little 
 more circumspect in this establishment, or you and I 
 will find ourselves robbed of all that we possess in the 
 world. This fellow up-stairs may be a swindler. I 
 don't know a living soul in the place — hairy or other- 
 wise ; and no one but you and Mr. Weston are aware 
 of my coming here." 
 
 " He's quite a gentleman, sir. Lor' bless you, I 
 know a gentleman when I see him, always. You need 
 not be afraid of bad characters at llpham, Mr. De- 
 iancy ; they never come down here." 
 
 " No, I suppose it wouldn't pay, poor fellows," said 
 Mr. Delancy, absently. *' Well, let us see this mys- 
 terious stranger at once. If I don't think him a
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 47 
 
 gentleman, Mrs. S., I shall probably kick him into the 
 street;' 
 
 Mrs. Simmonds looked after her new lodger as he 
 went up the stairs two steps at a time, as if she had 
 not been able to make him thoroughly out in the 
 course of their first interview. Meanwhile, Edmund 
 Delancy strode away cut of sight of his landlady, and 
 marched into his first-floor front as though it had 
 belonged to him all his life. 
 
 A gentleman rose to meet him as he entered — a 
 broad-chested, handsome man, with a big black beard 
 and moustache — and came towards him with both 
 hands extended. 
 
 "Well, Xed Delancy, am I the last man on earth 
 whom you expected to see to-night ?" 
 
 "Upon my honour, I think you are," said Ned, 
 shaking hands with him heartily enough ; " for it is 
 George Day — Doctor Day, of St. John's — almost the 
 great Day." 
 
 "George Day — simply old George, and at your 
 service, Ned." 
 
 "Sit down, then, by the fire. I don't know that I 
 have anything to offer you, for that depends upon the 
 capacity of my landlady's cellar." 
 
 " I have dined but recently ; don't get anything for 
 me, please.'' 
 
 " But " 
 
 " I never take anything but one glass of port after
 
 48 NED DELAXCY FIXDS MORE THAX HE 
 
 dinner, and that I have already had," said Doctor 
 Day, somewhat firmly. 
 
 " Oh, very well. And now, how the deuce did you 
 find me out ?" 
 
 "By a roundabout way. I dined with Hugh Aynard 
 yesterday — you know Aynard — and met the rector of 
 this out-of-the-way place, who told me that he had 
 secured a new organist for St. Bride's ; had met him in 
 London, and was struck with his playing and great 
 genius, and so forth " — (Mr. Delancy bowed) — " and 
 when he mentioned your name " 
 
 Edmund Delancy struck in here. Interruption of 
 long speeches was certainly his weakness. 
 
 " Oh, not before ?" 
 
 " Not before ; there are so many geniuses in the 
 world, you see," commented the doctor, '• but I knew that 
 there were few Delancys ; and I resolved to storm your 
 citadel this evening, and solve all doubts for myself." 
 
 " Well, that was very kind of you. What are you 
 doing down here, George ?" 
 
 "Pleasure seeking." 
 
 " You'll not find it, then," said Ned, " for of all the 
 holes in the east and north-east of merry England, this 
 is the bleakest, windiest, and dullest." 
 
 "And you have been five minutes in the place," 
 laughed the other. 
 
 *'Yes; but I'm quick in summiiig up people and 
 things."
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 49 
 
 " Ah, I'm slow, Ned. I wonder which is the better 
 plan?" 
 
 " Can't say, old fellow. I can't do anythinon slowly 
 — I must be rattling about. This place will kill me, 
 unless I get something on my mind, or stir up the town 
 in some way. How long do you stay here ?" 
 
 " Seven or eight days — not longer." 
 
 " No, I should think not. But," looking hard at 
 his friend, " you never came down here for pleasure ? 
 You are too fond of high life, fashionable life, great 
 and grand people, to kill time at Ilpham-on-the-Cliff, 
 George Day." 
 
 "You are speaking of four years ago, when it was 
 necessary on my part to court society — when my posi- 
 tion was not so well established, and ray name not so 
 well known." 
 
 " Four years ago ! So long as that since you and I 
 swore eternal friendship, and then went each his own 
 way to meet in this place ?" 
 
 Doctor Day appeared embarrassed for an instant, as 
 though he detected a reproach in these words. He 
 condescended even to explain. 
 
 " You ran all over the country, after your usual 
 fashion, Ned. I stayed in London, and studied hard 
 my profession and my patients. It was almost impos- 
 sible for us to meet." 
 
 " I called twice at your house in Harley Street. You 
 were out on both occasions, the flunky said." 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 NED DELAXCY FIXDS MORE THAN HE 
 
 *' The flunky was right I never give my servants 
 orders to lie. I returned your second call at the old 
 house. Gone away, and left no address." 
 
 ** Gone to the dogs, you mean." 
 
 "I heard of your family misfortunes a few days 
 afterwards. No one more regretted them than 
 myself." 
 
 " Oh yes — I did !" was the blunt reply. 
 
 " Of course I mean " 
 
 " Yes, I know what you mean. Thank you, Day, for 
 that expression of good feeling. I think nothing touches 
 up a man's sensitiveness so much as the complete down- 
 fall of a friend. And, thanks to bad investments, ours 
 was a fine smash." 
 
 " Your mother is well, I hope?" 
 
 " Well, and strong, and hearty. I should never have 
 known what a brave heart hers was to face trouble — 
 what faith she had in me — what a dear old soul she 
 was and is, if it had not been for ruin." 
 
 He spoke of ruin with eyes that sparkled and a cheek 
 that flushed in spite of him ; and Doctor Day looked on, 
 from the easy-chair that he had taken, as at a specimen 
 of human-kind that pleased him, and yet at which he 
 wondered. 
 
 *' I can scarcely believe that all this happened four 
 years ago," he said, for the want of a better thought at 
 the moment. 
 
 " Four years this very month. I was an enthusiastic,
 
 BAIIGAIXED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 51 
 
 stuck-up young prig, then, of twenty-one, with a general 
 idea that the world was made for me and my enjoyment ; 
 a good, sensible, firm world, that spun round rapidly, 
 and on which I was to be always uppermost and great. 
 I took a fancy to you, though you were eleven years my 
 senior — I always took a fancy to clever people, for there 
 were so few came to our place — and you took a fancy to 
 me, and patronized me, and we got on together famously. 
 Do you remember the grave advice you gave me about 
 Clara?" 
 
 " I scarcely remember," he answered. 
 
 He spoke like a man who remembered every word of 
 that past advice, however, and was disposed to ignore 
 it, or to treat it lightly now, for his friend's sake. 
 
 " You told me to be careful — that I was too impulsive, 
 too young for her ; that she was a woman of the world 
 in comparison with me. By Jove ! you were right, 
 though I was heavily hit then, and laughed at your 
 warning. After the collapse of the Delancys I never 
 saw her again, you are aware. I was an ass and a 
 fool for two years ; then I arrived at the sober age of 
 three and twenty, and here I am." 
 
 *' And doing well, I trust ?" 
 
 *' Luck has been against me ever since ; nothing has 
 prospered. I have been too careless, perhaps, about 
 my future to work hard for money. My musical 
 abilities have just kept me ; my mother's annuity just 
 keeps her. I am of no ambition, and a man beset by
 
 52 NED DELANCY FINDS MORE THAN HE 
 
 a spirit that will not let him keep long in one place. 
 What complaint do you call that ?" 
 " Recklessness." 
 
 " And now, Doctor George, what have you to say for 
 yourself?" 
 
 " Very little. I am still in Harley Street ; I have 
 not gone back in the world ; I keep my carriage and 
 pair ; I see many patients ; pocket many guineas ; and 
 am still a bachelor." 
 
 " You are fastidious concerninfr women." 
 " Very. I have looked out for a sensible wife for ten 
 years, and found her not." 
 
 " Your old flame, I suppose, you never saw again ?" 
 Doctor Day looked almost forbiddingly at his inter- 
 locutor. 
 
 *' Of what old flame are you speaking ?" 
 " Oh, there was more than one, then ?" 
 
 " I do not remember " he began again ; and for 
 
 the third time that night Edmund Delancy interrupted 
 him. 
 
 " What an awful memory yours is ! We had one 
 burst of confidence together ; for you were a fellow that 
 spoke out more at that time, I fancy," said Delancy, 
 "and you *old me about your old sweetheart at 
 Wolchester Mary — Mary — was it really Judge, or 
 has the name got into my head to-night despite of 
 me?" 
 
 " Judge was the name of a girl to whom I was some-
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 53 
 
 what attached twelve years ago, or thereabouts. Did I 
 ever mention that affair to you ?" 
 
 " To be sure you did." 
 
 Doctor Day seemed extremely annoyed. A white, 
 plump left hand, on the little finger of which glittered 
 an enormous diamond, clutched his crossed knee as 
 though it would inflict pain upon its owner for being so 
 great a fool with past confessions ; a high forehead 
 contracted a little, and two eyebrows — beetle-brows, and 
 the most unpleasant part about his face — lowered over 
 his brown, sleepy eyes. 
 
 " If mine be a bad memory," he said, in a low tone, 
 "yours is the most extraordinary recollection that I 
 have ever come across. You remember even my little 
 jests." 
 
 " I was madly in love, and all love stories made an 
 impression upon me, I suppose. So Judge was the 
 name ; that's very odd." 
 
 " What is odd ?" 
 
 " An old man named Judge came from Wolchester 
 to-night with me, had a fit by the way, and let me in to 
 hold his confounded restless head. And he had a 
 daughter, too, who met him here — a large-eyed girl — 
 — ox-eyed, like Juno." 
 
 "Judge is a very common name," said the doctor, 
 deliberately. 
 
 Then the two men sat and stared at each other, as 
 though the conversation had come to a dead lock, or there
 
 54 NED DELA.NCY FINDS MORE THAN HE 
 
 was but little more to say. Ned Delancy was tired with 
 his journey from London to Wolchester by rail, from 
 Wolchester to Ilpham-on-the-Cliffby coach, and thought 
 that his old friend might have risen very gracefully 
 from the easy-chair opposite, expressed a wish for 
 further meetings in the ensuing week, and bidden him 
 good-night. That seemed the proper thing to do, but 
 this Doctor Day studiously avoided the proper thing, and 
 Edmund Delancy— a quick-witted young fellow in his 
 way — began to conceive the idea that his guest had a 
 something more to communicate that was of importance 
 to one or another, or both. He had quite thrilled at 
 the sight of Doctor Day in the first moments of their 
 interview ; he had thought it kind of the man to seek 
 him out, to be ready with his welcome there, just as 
 the place had given him the horrors, and he was think- 
 ing M^hat a blank, friendless kind of life lay in store for 
 him for the next three months. Now, he began to feel 
 — although he resisted the impression as much as pos- 
 sible — that Doctor Day was a nuisance. He summed 
 him up more completely presently, and went as far as 
 a confounded nuisance ; for there was a portmanteau to 
 unpack, a letter to write to his mother announcing his 
 safe arrival, half a dozen matters to arrange with his 
 landlady, and the man would not leave him to the 
 peaceful possession of his first floor front, but sat and 
 stared, or talked about the walks and drives in the 
 neighbourhood like an animated guide-book. Still Day
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. OO 
 
 had been his friend, they had exchanged confidences 
 together four or five years ago, spoken of their love- 
 troubles, and taken advice one from another concerning 
 them ; and until the fortune of the Delancys had gone 
 the way of many other fortunes before and since that 
 time, he could not call to mind one whose manner had 
 been more fascinating, or of whom he had wished so 
 heartily to make a friend. After his reverses, Ned 
 Delancy had set him down with the rest as a showy, 
 demonstrative, fair-weather acquaintance, glad to drop 
 him now his mother had no more cards of invitation to 
 send out, and he had turned away proud and scornful 
 from such a friend as that. He had shaken George 
 Day from his thoughts, as he had shaken, with greater 
 difficulty, but more completeness, the Clara of whom 
 they had spoken that evenino^, and lo, at Ilpham, the 
 very man who had given him the cold shoulder, as he 
 fancied, was now the first to seek him out. 
 
 If he wanted nothing from him, if it were pure 
 friendship after all that set George Day there facing 
 him, he should like him better than ever for his remem- 
 brance of him. He tried to believe that ; but it was 
 with an eff'ort, as time stole on, and the man dribbled 
 forth commonplaces and wearied him. He wished that 
 he had not mentioned the Judges to Day, for that had 
 nonplussed him, it was evident ; his whole manner had 
 changed since he had spoken of the adventure of that
 
 56 NED DELANCY FINDS MORE THAN HE 
 
 Ned Delancy could stand it no longer. It was im- 
 possible to sit there and feel that there was a something 
 more to say, which his friend had not the courage 
 to pour forth. He looked him steadily in the face, 
 and said : 
 
 "Is there anything of importance, George, to tell 
 me :' 
 
 George Day started at this direct appeal, and ran 
 his hands through his hair, which was^ getting slightly 
 thin on the top. 
 
 *' Oh no. What a fellow I am !" he said, rising ; 
 " here am I keeping you fi'om rest after a long journey, 
 in my anxiety to prove that it was accident rather than 
 intention that kept us so long apart. You vanished, 
 and it is again by accident that I find you, and am, 
 on my honour, Ned, very, very glad to see you." 
 
 He held both hands forth, and Ned Delancy grasped 
 them in his own and wrung them heartily. This Doctor 
 Day was a good and genuine fellow after all, and not 
 a nuisance. 
 
 " Will you not stay a little longer ?" Ned said, even. 
 " I will ring for supper, and we will talk of the past 
 over it." 
 
 " No, I must be going now, thank you. When will 
 you dine with me at Markham's ?" 
 
 '' Where's Markham's?" 
 
 " The private hotel to the right. Clara and I are 
 staying there."
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 57 
 
 *' Clara !" gasped Ned, in his amazement, " your sister 
 there. Why, she married a baronet, did she not ? 
 Who told me that she was married ?" 
 
 " She was married, certainly : but her husband was 
 thrown in the hunting-field and killed, eighteen months 
 ago. She is engaged, or about to be engaged, I might 
 say, to young Aynard. You will meet Aynard at our 
 place — another friend of the old times who has not 
 forgotten you." 
 
 *' No friend of mine." 
 
 "Why, you were at school together. He often 
 speaks of you." 
 
 '' Well, that's very kind of him. I wonder that he 
 has recollected me ; we used to consider him slightly 
 queer in the head, and play him all manner of tricks. 
 Cranky Hugh we christened him, I remember." 
 
 " He is as sane as you are." 
 
 " That is not saying much for him." 
 
 " A first-rate fellow," said Day, decisively. " You 
 will admire him very much ; he has one taste in common 
 with you — music. You and he should be better 
 acquainted. What day shall I ask him to meet you at 
 Markham's ?" 
 
 Ned Delancy hesitated, and Doctor Day noticed his 
 embarrassment, and hastened to assure him. 
 
 " Bygones are bygones, Ned, and you are too sensible 
 a fellow to seek to revive an old folly. Years ago 
 I told you that she was not fit for you. I tell you so
 
 58 XED DELANCY FIXPS MORE THAN HE 
 
 again, in all frankness and good faith ; and I ask you 
 to meet her as a friend — one in whom she and I can 
 trust." 
 
 *' You are very kind ; you may trust in me, be 
 assured. She is the last woman in the world with 
 whom I should be likely to fall in love now." 
 
 He said it very proudly, too, and looked at that 
 moment, and with that expression on his face, like a 
 man whom few women would have had the heart to 
 deceive. 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say that." 
 
 " But," continued Ned Delancy, " I do not know 
 that I can meet her without pain. It is more than 
 possible that I can ; but pardon me if I add that I 
 have no particular wish to try the experiment." 
 
 Doctor Day's face shadowed a little, and Ned De- 
 lancy saw the change and noted it. There was a 
 reason for his coming, after all — a something more 
 than the friendship which he had seemed anxious to 
 revive. Delancy did not like him quite so much as he 
 did ; he was puzzled ; he would be glad to get rid of him, 
 and think the whole matter quietly over by himself. 
 
 " That sounds like resentment, or as if you were 
 afraid to face her." 
 
 " Afraid !" said Ned, very quickly. '* I'll come any 
 day you like, George." 
 
 *' Shall we say next Monday, at seven ?" 
 
 *' Yes, that will suit me admirably."
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 59 
 
 " And I'll ask Aynard to meet us — he's a man you 
 should know, now. You'll find good shooting in his 
 preserves in September. He is generous and hospitable 
 — the very man for a friend." 
 
 *' He is rich, I believe ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Ah, then he will not do for me. I have not 
 twenty pounds in the world — I never expect to have." 
 
 " You are of a good family : that is a passport to 
 any society." 
 
 *' So I have heard," said Delancy, carelessly. " But 
 society does not seem to see it, or I am a trifle too shy, 
 knowing the extent of my worldly possessions." 
 
 "You are sure to like him, he is very anxious to 
 make your acquaintance. He was only telling me 
 yesterday of some of your old school exploits." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " He is a genius, I consider, Ned," continued Doctor 
 Day. " Eccentric, perhaps, after the fashion of genius. 
 Oh, you are sure to like him," he reiterated ; " and if 
 I leave you sworn friends before my sister and I go 
 back to Harley Street, I shall have done you both a 
 service. Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night, George." 
 
 They shook hands again. The elder man reminded 
 the younger of the engagement for Monday evening 
 next, and then they separated ; and as the street-door 
 closed, Edmund Delancv, who had not followed his
 
 60 NED DELANCY FINDS MORE THAN HE 
 
 friend into the hall, dropped crosswise upon a chair, 
 folded his arms thereon, made a cushion for his chin, 
 and then relapsed into thought, from which he was 
 only aroused by the entrance of Mrs. Simmonds with 
 the supper tray. Mrs. Simmonds waited upon her 
 lodgers herself, and the maid in her service was only 
 for kitchen purposes, and for running up and down- 
 stairs with messages, she being more agile than her 
 mistress. 
 
 He seized this opportunity of a little talk with Mrs. 
 Simmonds, as an idea suggested itself to him. He felt 
 that somewhere, and for some purpose, there was a 
 mystery around him, in which, if he were not careful, 
 he should be enwrapped. He who hated mystery, too, 
 and loved plain sailing above everything in life, to be 
 surrounded by things out of the common way from the 
 moment that he took coach from Wolchester. First the 
 Judges — the father and the daughter — the father, whom 
 he was sure that he had met before, and who had raved 
 a little in the fit that had seized him, and had startled 
 him not a little with his ravings. Then George Day, 
 and his sister who had thrown him over for a baronet, 
 and this Hugh Aynard, whom he was sure to like, it 
 was said, and whom he could only remember as a weak- 
 limbed, weak-headed simpleton, the laughing-stock of 
 the whole school. How they all perplexed him ! 
 
 " Do you know a Mr. Aynard near here, Mrs. Sim- 
 monds ?" he inquired.
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 61 
 
 "At Thirby Cross, sir? Poor Mr. Hugh! Oh 
 yes." 
 
 " Why do you call him poor Mr. Hugh ?" 
 
 " I don't know, sir. Habit, p'raps. We don't think 
 he's quite the thing ; though I can't say as I see much 
 in him different from other people. He is a sad sort of 
 a young man. Worn to a thread, like. A trifle more 
 funny in his ways, p'raps, than you or I would be." 
 
 " What is the funniest way of this sad sort of a young 
 man, Mrs. Simmonds?" 
 
 " Really I don't know, Mr. Delancy. I've never 
 thought much about him ; nobody does, though he 
 spends a deal of money in the town, and helps Ilpham 
 very much. And he's kind to the Backwater people — 
 the roughs and the wretcheds — and demeans himself a 
 little too much amongst them for one of the gentle- 
 folks." 
 
 " Ah, that's funny for an aristocrat, to begin with." 
 
 " Oh, and then, sir, he's took lately to fit up a room in 
 an old shed of his boathouse, in the Backwater, and he 
 rows hisself there, they say, and lets the tide run out, 
 and lock him up for days together, for the water varies 
 there ; and it's only the high tides that floats him off to 
 his great house at Thirby Cross." 
 
 "Eccentric — ^just a trifle," said Mr. Delancy. 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Simmonds. I do not think that 
 I need trouble you any more to-night." 
 
 "No grog, sir, after your long journey? My good
 
 62 NED DELANCY FINDS MOKE THAN HE 
 
 husband, as is dead and gone, always had what he called 
 his nightcap every evening, the last thing afore getting 
 into bed." 
 
 " Ah, perhaps that accounts for his being dead and 
 srone," he said, in a louder aside than he had intended, 
 for Mrs. Simmonds flung up both arms in astonishment. 
 
 " Oh, my gracious, sir !" 
 
 *' I beg pardon," he said. *' I'm drowsy to-night. 
 You said something about a nightcap, I think, a mo- 
 ment since. Thank you, I never wear one. Good-night. 
 You will hear me grind to-morrow, I hope ?" 
 
 " Grind what, sir ?" 
 
 " The organ. I play myself in at St. Bride's." 
 
 " I'm sure to be there, sir." 
 
 " That's good news. My bedroom's across the land- 
 ing, Mrs. Simmonds?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "And my desk, I suppose? for I have a letter to 
 write to the dearest woman in the world to-night." 
 
 " Ah, your young lady, sir," said Mrs. Simmonds, 
 smiling. " I know what you young men are." 
 
 *' My young lady is sixty-one, and bears my name." 
 
 " Your mother, perhaps, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes ; God bless her." 
 
 " Now God bless him for that," said the landlady, 
 when she was outside the drawing-room door, and had 
 wiped her eyes wdth a corner of her apron. " Thafs a 
 boy who has a good heart."
 
 BARGAINED FOR AT PROSPECT TERRACE. 63 
 
 Mrs. Simraonds might be considered a weak woman 
 to be affected by Ned Delancy's blessing ; but she was 
 a widow, and had one boy at sea, whom she loved very 
 much, but who did not write to his mother very often. 
 
 •' I'll hear him play hisself in," she said on the hall 
 mat, *'if it rains cats and dogs to-morrow morning, and 
 I think it means it." 
 
 Play himself in? Into what? Into his post of 
 organist at St. Bride's. But into what else beyond that 
 old grey stone church which the sea washed ? Into plot 
 and mystery it might be, but not into the hands of 
 George Day, or back into the heart of George Day's 
 sister. One could not look into his firm, honest face, 
 and believe the man so weak.
 
 64 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLAYS HIMSELF IN. 
 
 Ned Delancy played himself in at St. Bride's, Ilpham, 
 on the following morning. He was playing himself in 
 when the church clock struck eleven, and the wind and 
 rain set in suddenly and fiercely, as though they had 
 waited for all respectable church-goers to be enscoriced 
 in their pew^s, before beginning their onslaught on the 
 town. It was the weather which Mary Judge had fore- 
 boded, and from which her niece had prayed that she 
 might escape — the cat-and-dog weather that had sug- 
 gested itself to Mrs. Simmonds last night on the hall 
 mat, and for which she had come fully prepared, not 
 deceived at the last moment, as Mr. Judge and his 
 daughter had been, by a glimmer of sunshine a quarter 
 of an hour after the bell had rung out for morning 
 service. 
 
 It was a day a trifle worse than usual for Ilpham ; a 
 memorable day for folk further round the coast, where 
 ships went on shore, rockets and guns were fired, and
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLAYS HIMSELF IN. 65 
 
 lifeboats were put off. Ilpham stood the gale well, and 
 had no sensation incidents to boast of. The real winter 
 weather, to which allusion has been made, seemed to 
 have come a little while before its time, and it was only 
 Ned Delancy in his organ-loft, and a few not yet accli- 
 matised, that looked up at the diamond panes on which 
 the rain was hurled, and wondered if the windows would 
 stand the brunt of it, or come clattering in upon the 
 congregation. 
 
 Ned played himself in, then, under adverse circum- 
 stances ; and the gloomy character of the day — possibly 
 the gloomy nature of his thoughts — imparted a sad, 
 wild turn to his voluntary that caused more than one 
 face to look upwards to the red curtains behind which 
 sat the player, and impressed so forcibly one listener, 
 sitting between Doctor Day and a lady in black silk, 
 that, had it not been for the hand of the former on his 
 arm, he would have leaped up from his seat in his im- 
 pulsiveness. He was no common player at the organ 
 that day. The few who knew something of music were 
 amazed ; the new-comer was a welcome change to his 
 predecessor, and the Reverend Jonas Weston smiled 
 in a satisfactory manner over his book before commenc- 
 ing the morning service, which he performed by himself, 
 like an ill-paid, overworked clergyman as he was. 
 
 It must be confessed that it was rather a dull service 
 at St. Bride's. Mr. Weston's voice soon fell monoto- 
 nously on the ear, and the wind and rain which kept on 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 incessantly, and came not in gusts like wind and rain in 
 other parts of the world, had a soothing effect after a 
 while, and lulled a few of the congregation into peaceful 
 slumbers. Mr. John Judge, sitting in the free seats 
 with his daughter Anne, went off to sleep at every 
 opportunity, and was only awakened by the psalms and 
 hymns — went oft' to sleep in an unseemly and undis- 
 guised manner, and with his head bent very much for- 
 ward, as though in incessant search for his hat under 
 the seat ; Mrs. Simmonds' head jerked itself all manner 
 of ways, despite her efforts to control it ; Doctor Day 
 sat with his arms crossed on his broad chest, trying to 
 believe that he was all attention, but with eyelids that 
 drooped heavily and remained closed for several minutes 
 in succession ; the tall, white-faced man at his side was 
 almost as demonstrative as Mr. Judge, while the lady 
 by the side of him, a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl in slight 
 mourning, gave way at last in the middle of the sermon, 
 but not before her gaze had wandered more than once — 
 more than twenty times, had there been any one irreve- 
 rent enough to count her glances — towards the organ, or 
 to the charity girls and boys stowed away in a cupboard 
 on each side of it, or to something or somebody in that 
 direction, with a shy, yet earnest upward gaze that 
 Ned Delancy saw but once as he peered down into the 
 church, and then backed quickly away from, like a. man 
 who flinched with sudden pain. 
 
 When the service was over, Ned played the congre-
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLAYS HIMSELF IN. 67 
 
 gation out of church with great persistency, lingering 
 over the keys as though he loved music with all his 
 heart, and could not tear himself from the instru- 
 ment, or as though he would make sure that he and 
 the pew-opener were the only persons left in St. Bride's 
 after the last peal had sounded forth. But Edmund 
 Delancy had not calculated on his own powers of 
 attraction, and had not the rain still descended 
 fiercely there might have waited a few to hear him 
 to the end. 
 
 Mr. Weston, a small man, with a thin, dried-up face 
 which one might have covered with his hand, and yet a 
 face which did not detract from a considerable amount 
 of self-importance that was impressed thereon, looked in 
 at the organist. 
 
 " Very beautifully played, Mr. Delancy," he said, in 
 a high-pitched voice ; " but, I think — yes, I think — a 
 little too long. I do not like people to wait ; I do not 
 think it shows a proper reverence in the congregation to 
 wait here after the sermon to hear the organ played. 
 You will not object to my remarking that something 
 shorter on these occasions will be better." 
 
 Ned Delancy looked at the speaker, and then at his 
 watch. His first idea was that the preceding remark 
 would have also applied to the sermon, as the hour was 
 a quarter past one, and the discourse had neither been 
 eloquent nor stirring, but he nodded his head with 
 undue familiarity at his pastor, and said :
 
 68 
 
 "All right, sir." 
 
 Mr. Weston appeared taken aback by this free-and- 
 easy concession, but he said no more at that time con- 
 cerning his objections. He had had great trouble with 
 his last organist — and rectors and incumbents in- 
 tariably have their organists or their churchwardens 
 on their minds — and he had hoped for peace and quiet- 
 ness with this new comer. He did not relish the w^ay 
 in which his advice had been received— ^for although a 
 good man in many things, his great calling had not 
 rendered him humble or kind — but he went away with 
 a quiet " good morning, Mr. Delancy," and with a hope 
 that he had checked in the bud any inordinate display 
 of musical abiUty on the part of this new servant of the 
 church. 
 
 Was Ned Delancy of an obstinate nature — a man 
 inclined to resist authority, and repel dictation ? We 
 can almost fancy so, from his hasty soliloquy as he 
 came out of the organ loft, hat in hand. 
 
 "I shall give them a very long one this evening, 
 simply to show my clerical friend that I have an opinion 
 of my own on this point. The voluntary was all right 
 enough — I told him so." 
 
 Down-stairs, in the middle aisle, he found Mrs. Sim- 
 monds, with outstretched cotton gloves, and a large 
 gingham umbrella between them. 
 
 " I've been waiting for you, sir ; I thought that you'd 
 never leave off."
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLAYS HIMSELF IN. 69 
 
 " Oh, you were of that opinion too, were you ?" said 
 Ned. " Well, what is the matter ?" 
 
 " If you'll only take this, sir," she said, as he recoiled 
 in dismay from the pale abortion that was thrust towards 
 him, " and send it back by the maid for me, whilst I 
 wait here." 
 
 " You're very kind — I have a waterproof coat on ; I 
 do not care for umbrellas, as a rule. AVell, Mrs. Sira- 
 monds, ladies first, at any rate : you send it back for 
 me." 
 
 The landlady remonstrated, but Ned Delancy insisted 
 on this, and Mrs. Simmonds went away deeply im- 
 pressed by the gentlemanly behaviour of her new lodger, 
 who had, however, as the door swung open, caught a 
 glimpse of Anne Judge and her father standing under 
 the church porch waitinof up for the rain, thinly 'clad 
 and umbrellaless. 
 
 He had rid himself of Mrs. Simmonds, and was ad- 
 vancing towards his friends of the preceding night, when 
 he was intercepted at the red baize door by George 
 Day, his sister, and friend. They were waiting for 
 their carriage, which compelled them also to wait for 
 Mr. Delancy. 
 
 " My dear Ned, what a player you are ! What a 
 pity it is that you do not make an effort to obtain a great 
 and lasting success." 
 
 " Perhaps I have done so, and failed." 
 
 " Ah, I do not believe that, Ned. You will allow me
 
 70 ANXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 to introduce you to my friend, Mr. Aynard, although an 
 introduction between two old schoolfellows is scarcely 
 necessary." 
 
 "Suppose we get out of church first," said Ned, 
 as they passed through the swing-doors and stood 
 under the porch with Judge and his daughter, the only 
 loiterers left there weather-bound. '" Great pleasure, 
 Mr. Aynard," he murmured, as he bowed to the tall, 
 grave-faced gentleman to whom he had been introduced, 
 and who bowed very distantly in return, and stared 
 hard at xVnne Judge, his mind being evidently pre- 
 occupied with something more important just then than 
 an old schoolfellow's appearance at Ilpham. 
 
 Ned glanced at him indignantly for an instant, then 
 turned to the third person of the group, the fair-haired 
 lad/ with the blue eyes, who looked down for an 
 instant as he looked at her, while her colour changed 
 for one fleetinfj moment as a lavender kid crlove was ex- 
 tended, almost timidly, in his direction. He tried to be 
 very much at his ease, to address her in his usual every- 
 day manner, to shake hands quietly, hope that she was 
 well, and express a commonplace regret at the wet day 
 which had come upon them ; but he felt rather more 
 haughty than usual, and a degree or two more upright, 
 whilst his voice was exceedingly husky — a fact for 
 which the damp air was accountable, he thought. He 
 knew that his heart beat more fast, though she, and 
 those with whom she was, were not aware of it ; for this
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLAYS HDISELF IN. 71 
 
 pretty girl was to have been his wife once. She had 
 promised him that no one should love her but himself, 
 and he had blessed and kissed her four years ago as a 
 man blesses and kisses the woman who is to be his wife 
 one day. He had loved like a poet as well as a man 
 then, for the world had not taken the poetry out of 
 him ; and though he had outlived that love — he was 
 sure of it, even as he looked into her face and marked 
 how httle chano-ed it was — still it was a trial to face 
 the woman who had pledged herself to be his wife and 
 then given him up complacently. He did not call her 
 by the name which had been bestowed upon her by her 
 late husband — who was a baronet, and had left her that 
 title which, perhaps, had been the last feather that 
 weighed itself against his affection — he did not re- 
 member it at once, and when it recurred to him an 
 instant or two afterwards, he quietly ignored it. 
 
 " You must find Ilphani very dull," he remarked, 
 after the first courtesies had been exchanged ; and a 
 lady at her ease, a well-bred woman of the world, 
 looked as fearlessly into his face as he did into hers, 
 accepting the challenge that there was nothing to 
 embarrass either of them. The past was dead between 
 them, like their old passion, he thought. 
 
 " It is dull ; but a quiet place suits me very well 
 after the bustle of a London season." 
 
 " Yes, it is a change." 
 
 *' For you too. It seems very strange to find you
 
 i'2 AX3JE JUDGE, SPDCSTEE. 
 
 oocapying the post of organist at St, Bride^s, Mr. 
 Delancy.'" 
 
 " It will do for awhile. It server my porpc^e, gires 
 me sea air, and puts a little money in my parse. Is 
 this your carriage ?~ 
 
 ** It is our friend's, Mr. Aynard's." 
 
 '* Oh, indeed. Shall I see you to it T 
 
 " If you will — ^if you please," she added. 
 
 She placed her hand upon his arm. and he hurried with 
 her aonoes the strip of flinty path, and held her lightly hy 
 the wrist as she passed into the carriage murmuring, 
 "Thank you." 
 
 George Day and Mr. Aynard followed, the latter 
 taking no further notice of the old schoolfellow, hut 
 looking intently out of the opposite window with a sulky 
 expression of countenance. 
 
 "Thank you. Ned,*" said Day, when they were all 
 seated. " WiU you jump in at once with us. and fore- 
 stall a good heginning — a new beginning — by a few 
 hours?" 
 
 " No, thank you." 
 
 He thouirht that the old lore looked towards him for 
 a fleeting instant in a way that said, ** Come ;" but it 
 might have been one of his fancies : he was full of 
 fancies, his mother told him jestingly, even yet. 
 
 • We will drop you at Prospect Terrace, at all erents," 
 said Day ; ** we pass the house." 
 
 ** No, thank 3^011,'' be said again.
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLAYS HIMSELF IN. 73 
 
 George Day looked so very much surprised that 
 Delancy felt forced to add : 
 
 " I have a few things to attend to before I leave the 
 church." 
 
 " Ah, I see," answered the other. " Well, good-day, 
 then. I do not suppose that we shall attend church this 
 evening, if the weather continues like this." 
 
 " It's a pity to get wet," said Ned, drily. 
 
 " We shall see you to-morrow, then, at seven, at 
 Markham's?" 
 
 Ned nodded. 
 
 " It is a promise, you know," urged George Day. 
 
 "Oh, I never break my promises," said he, almost 
 contemptuously. 
 
 He could have bitten his tongue through the moment 
 afterwards for saying that, for the beautiful woman — 
 and she was as beautiful as she had ever been, he 
 knew — coloured, clasped her hands together, and then 
 looked hastily away from him. She had taken that 
 answer to herself, as his reproach — the Parthian dart 
 which he would fling at her before she went away, as a 
 proof that he nursed his wrongs and was still full of 
 resentment. 
 
 What a fool he was not to think more of his words 
 before they escaped him, he thought, as he looked after 
 the receding carriage ! What would she think of him 
 but that he was a love-sick youth still, pining, perhaps, 
 for the affection which his honest indignation had long
 
 74 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 since utterly despised ? What an ass to bray out 
 heedless words which a woman's quick ear might take 
 for a double meaning, and a woman's vanity, mayhap, 
 exult in when the first sting had been recovered from ! 
 He would have given something not to have met them 
 that morning, for he had not distinguished himself, and 
 Aynard of Thirby Cross — " Cranky Hugh " of old days 
 — had certainly snubbed him. 
 
 He stood thinking of all this with a fierce expression 
 on his face, and with the rain full on him — for he had 
 not backed beneath the porch again in his want of atten- 
 tion to outward things — when the servant-maid from 
 Number Four arrived in breathless haste under one 
 umbrella, and with her mistress's highly-prized gingham 
 clasped to her breast like a baby. 
 
 " If you please, sir, here it is." 
 
 " Here is what ? Oh, that thing ! thank you," he 
 said. " Now make haste back, and get dinner ready for 
 a fellow that's awfully hungry. That's the one thing good 
 in Ilpham air, it gives a man an appetite, Mr. Judge ; 
 I have done nothing but eat since I arrived here." 
 
 He had remembered the father and daughter in the 
 church porch at last — the father erect and rigid, who 
 had turned studiously away from him and his party, 
 and the daughter, who had not taken her eyes from 
 them until Doctor Day had abashed her by his stare; 
 then Anne Judge had looked in the same direction as 
 her father, but had heard, not unwillingly, every word
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLAYS HIMSELF IN. 75 
 
 that had been spoken between Mr. Delancy and the 
 fine carriage folk who had departed. 
 
 The maid-servant wended her way homewards, Mr. 
 Delancy flourished the capacious umbrella, Anne Judge 
 returned his smile towards her — for he had been a friend 
 to them last night, and she was grateful — and Mr. 
 Judge, looking very sallow and wrinkled in the daylight, 
 rewarded Mr. Delancy with almost a scowl for his atten- 
 tion. The former gentleman, however, felt forced to re- 
 ply, which he did with that marked ungraciousness which 
 had already characterized his address to Ned Delancy. 
 
 " You have a great deal to be thankful for, sir, if 
 you're fond of eating," was the answer vouchsafed. 
 
 " Well, I have a taste that way when I'm hungry," 
 Ned replied ; " I cannot account for it exactly. I hope 
 you feel better this morning, Mr. Judge." 
 
 " I am quite well — thank — you," he added, re- 
 luctantly. 
 
 " Well, I am very glad to hear it, for you certainly 
 startled a coach-load of us last night. And you. Miss 
 Anne Judge — quite well too?" 
 
 " I am very well now, thank you." 
 
 " You have had an illness lately, then ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You look delicate," he said, " and should not have 
 defied the weather by coming to church this morning." 
 
 " Father prophesied that it would be a very fine day 
 by one o'clock."
 
 76 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " And so you risked a nice clean muslin in this im- 
 prudent manner," he said. "Here, Mr. Judge, I have 
 sent home for an umbrella for you, as you have a long 
 way to go." 
 
 "We have not a long way to go, sir," said Mr. Judge, 
 looking at the umbrella irresolutely, and a little abashed 
 at this new consideration for him or his daughter : 
 " that is, not very far ; and we expect a friend round 
 here with an umbrella presently — that is, if she does 
 not think it serves us right for going to church in the 
 face of her warning," he muttered. 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Mary will not serve us like that, papa," 
 said Anne. 
 
 " Aunt Mary ! then there is a Mary Judge too," 
 exclaimed Ned, remembering his conversation with 
 George Day last evening. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" asked Mr. Judge, 
 sharply. This was certainly a most tetchy and dis- 
 agreeable old gentleman. 
 
 "Nothing — nothing of importance, that is," said 
 Delancy ; *' I have a friend who knew a Mary Judge 
 once. You did not recognize one of the gentlemen 
 who stepped into the carriage a few minutes since ? " 
 
 " With the kind and pretty lady from Markham's ? " 
 said Anne Judge. 
 
 " Kind and pretty is she, in your opinion ? AVhy 
 kind ?" asked Ned, darting off at a tangent at this last 
 remark.
 
 THE NEW ORGANIST PLATS HIMSELF IN. ( / 
 
 " Kind because she does good here, finds out the poor 
 and the miserable, Mr. Delancy, and seems to under- 
 stand them and their troubles." 
 
 " You know her, then T 
 
 " Oh, very well, indeed ; she thought that aunt and 
 I were very poor, which we are not of course, with 
 a good father to take care of us" — she pressed the 
 father's arm at this — " who sends us money when work 
 is scarce ; which, after all, is not very frequently the 
 case." 
 
 " What are you, may I ask T 
 
 " Lace-workers." 
 
 " And you did not recognize one of those gentlemen ?' 
 he inquired, suddenly remembering that his late question 
 still remained unanswered. 
 
 He addressed ^[r. Judge, who answered shortly : 
 
 *•' I did not look at any of the party." 
 
 His daughter had also her reply to make. 
 
 " 3Ir. Aynard I knew by sight ; the gentleman with 
 the beard was at church last Sunday with the lady who 
 is kind to the Backwater people." 
 
 "I can hardly believe that CI that that lady 
 
 you mention is playing the Lady Bountiful down here. 
 It's an odd distraction for her — a fashionable and heart- 
 less woman, I might say, without a great deal of exag- 
 geration." 
 
 " Oh, you cannot know her, sir." 
 
 "You are riorht, I do not know her. I formed a
 
 78 AXNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 wrong estimate of her character years ago, my child. 
 
 I Here, take the umbrella and your father away. 
 
 Aunt Mary is not going to wet her shoes for you two 
 ingrates that would not take her valuable advice. Send 
 the property back to Number Four, Prospect Terrace, 
 when you get an opportunity, and Good-morning." 
 
 He thrust the great gingham into the hands of Anne 
 Judge, turned up the collar of his coat, and, forgetful of 
 the few things that remained to be doae in church, he 
 dashed through the rain homewards, not waiting for 
 further remonstrance from the father and dausrhter left 
 behind under the porch. 
 
 " He's a good, thoughtful gentleman, papa," said 
 Anne Judge. 
 
 "I don't like him at all," was the reply. 
 
 " Why, was not this considerate to give up his land- 
 lady's umbrella to our use, and run home without it 
 himself?" 
 
 " It was extremely officious. You are a silly girl," 
 he added, " you wiU magnify the smallest obligations 
 into favours of great magnitude. You'll make a hero 
 out of this rude fellow presently, and then all kinds 
 of nonsense will get into your head to — to — to," he 
 stammered, " to the prejudice of me. xA.nd here's Aunt 
 Mary coming round the corner too, and looking as black 
 as thunder at us ; and now we're saddled with two 
 umbrellas, all through that man's stupidity !"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MR. JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTEK. 
 
 It rained all that Sunday at Ilpham-on-the-Cliff. The 
 great beauty of the climate at Ilpham, thought Ned 
 Delancy, as he looked from his drawing-room window at 
 an angry sea, lay in the fact of its invariability. One 
 could rely upon it raining for four and twenty hours 
 without a break, and this prepared the mind and took 
 away all degree of uncertainty as to what was to be 
 done. Ned Delancy indulged in an afternoon nap after 
 his early dinner ; he sat himself down to think and to 
 look at the rain and sea, but he had kept late hours last 
 night, and yesterday's fatigue had not wholly worn off. 
 He relapsed into slumber, and dreamt that Anne Judge, 
 and Clara, his first love — the Lady Burlinson of the pre- 
 sent time, whose name it had not pleased him to men- 
 tion under the church porch — were on " the husbands' 
 coach" from Wolchester; that old Judge ''held the 
 ribbons," and that he had old Judge on his mind, and 
 was afraid of him falling off in a fit and frightening the
 
 80 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 horses. An unpleasant dream, winding up with the 
 coach being driven right into the front door of St. 
 Bride's in the middle of service, and with Mr. Hugh 
 Aynard, and the clergyman, and the beadle, and Doctor 
 Day all struggling under the wheels and horses^ legs 
 and shrieking with dismay. 
 
 He woke up with a start to find that the maid-servant 
 had butted at the door with her tea-equipage, and then 
 stumbled into the room amidst a clattering of china on 
 the tray, and an incipient shriek from herself as she 
 found her equilibrium somewhat disturbed by what she 
 termed a ruck in the carpet. 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir," she said, as Ned Delancy sat 
 up and rubbed his eyes ; " I thought that I was a-going 
 to fall with all the things." 
 
 " It's of no consequence. I suppose that I should not 
 have been charged for them in the bill," he said, with 
 his usual quickness. " What is the time, Jane ?" 
 
 " Half-past five, sir." 
 
 " How I must have slept," he said. '' What a fine 
 soothing effect a heavy rain has upon the spirits. By 
 the way, has Mr. Judge sent the umbrella back ?" 
 
 " No, sir, but there's another, not quite so good, that 
 will " 
 
 " Oh no, thank you," said Ned, with alacrity : " um- 
 brellas are not in my line — that is, country umbrellas. 
 I dare say it will clear up before six." 
 
 " Not afore half-past ten, sir ; when the tide turns."
 
 MR. JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTER. 81 
 
 " Oh, the tide turns here then, Jane. Come, that's 
 some little change to look for\yard to." 
 
 The rain kept on all that night, and there were but 
 few worshippers at St. Bride's. It was a short sermon 
 on this occasion, and the congregation hurried away im- 
 mediately upon its conclusion, and did not wait for 
 the voluntary, which was rather longer than the morn- 
 ing's, it was observed by Mr. Weston before he drew 
 on his goloshes and skipped homewards. 
 
 It rained all night and till the early morning, and then 
 the wind changed, the sky brightened, and when they 
 were polishing up " the husbands' coach " before the Gull 
 Inn, llpham lay bathed in sunshine bright and warm. 
 
 Ned Delancy's spirits rose with the barometer. He 
 flung open his window to let in the fresh air, and had 
 his table drawn close to the open casement, so that he 
 might enjoy the prospect of llpham life with his early 
 breakfast. 
 
 " What a charming little place to be sure," he said, 
 forgetting all his adverse criticisms of the preceding 
 day. " I wonder it is not more patronized and spoiled 
 — primitive, homely, and quiet as it is. I think that I 
 shall bring the mother here for a few weeks, and see 
 what she thinks of the situation. Hollo! here's old 
 Judge coming up the street with Mrs. Simmonds' um- 
 brella. Thank my lucky stars that I did not meet 
 him in the High Street, and receive my loan a hundred 
 yards from home." 
 
 VOL. I. ' G
 
 82 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 Mr. Judge, very erect despite his lameness, came 
 along the pavement without taking heed of Ned's 
 salutation from the drawing-room. It was beneath his 
 dignity to see Mr. Delancy up there ; and though he 
 was greeted, when near the window, with a "Hi! 
 Judge !" of a most unceremonious character, he walked 
 gravely up the steps of Number Four, into the open hall 
 — street doors were always open at Ilpham — knocked 
 with his stick for the servant, and sent up a soiled 
 piece of pasteboard, which he took with great care 
 from his pocket-book, and on which was inscribed with 
 a great many flourishes the name of " Mr. John Judge." 
 This card having been presented to Ned Delancy by 
 the servant, and permission having been granted for 
 Mr. Judge to be shown into the drawing-room, the tall 
 old man marched with great gravity into the room and 
 presented the umbrella to our hero. 
 
 " There is your umbrella, sir — with thanks," he 
 added, after a moment's reflection. 
 
 " Thank you. Take a seat, Mr. Judge." 
 Mr. Judge, somewhat to Ned's surprise, sat down, 
 hat in hand, and favoured the young man with a gloomy 
 stare. 
 
 " You return to Wolchester to-day, I think you told 
 me, Mr. Judge ?" 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "I hope that you feel strong enough for your 
 journey ?"
 
 MR. JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTER. 83 
 
 "I am not an invalid," was the reply; "lame — 
 almost a cripple — but constitutionally very strong 
 indeed. My giddiness of Saturday night was perfectly 
 unaccountable, sir." 
 
 "It was very cold on the coach. You return as 
 outside passenger?" 
 
 " Yes. At eight o'clock I leave Ilpham." 
 
 " The weather was against you, yesterday." 
 
 *' Beastly weather, to be sure ; and Anne and I had 
 planned a long walk into the country, a long talk of 
 our future life* together ; and then all dashed down by 
 the rain." 
 
 " That did not deprive you of your daughter's com- 
 pany, at all events." 
 
 " N — no ; but we were not alone, as we intended to 
 be. Anne Judge is a child, sir, who lives but for her 
 father — who is only happy with him — whose life, Mr. 
 Delancy, is to be for ever devoted to him." 
 
 He said this very distinctly, as though anxious to 
 impress our hero with the fact. 
 
 "Ever devoted to him," echoed Ned, "until she 
 finds a younger object of devotion in her husband, I 
 suppose." 
 
 This was intended as a jest, but Mr. Judge frowned 
 at the jester, and would have silenced a man less 
 endowed with imperturbability than was Edmund 
 Delancy. 
 
 " You look forward toyour daughter making a good
 
 84 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 match, when she is an older woman," said Ned, by way 
 of explanation. 
 
 " My daughter will never marry — that is a promise 
 of hers. She will live for me entirely — for a man who 
 has known no happiness in all his life up to the present 
 moment ; but sees it, a little way hence, with her." 
 " Yes— but does she see it with you ?" 
 Mr. Judge turned very red at this, then answered, 
 with forced calmness : 
 
 " She does, sir. She is looking forward as eagerly as 
 myself for that time." 
 
 *' What stops your beginning at once ?" 
 A long pause ensued ; then he answered : 
 " Many things." 
 
 Ned did not wish to pry into these reasons, they 
 were not his business ; and though he felt at a loss to 
 account for Mr. Judge's odd burst of confidence, he 
 was not sufficiently curious to seek an explanation 
 of it. Mr. Judge, however, condescended to explain 
 for himself. 
 
 " I have a motive in telling you this, Mr. Delancy," 
 he said, suddenly. " You have, by an accident, be- 
 come acquainted with my daughter and me, and it 
 has been a study of ours to hold aloof from society. 
 We are very poor, but we are very proud ; hence 
 society is, under any circumstances, an intrusion upon 
 us." 
 
 " You told me something like this at the Gull Inn."
 
 MR. JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTER. 85 
 
 " And you spoke to us again under the church porch, 
 despite my former warning, and lent me an umbrella, 
 big enough for a horse to carry," said Mr. Judge, 
 sharply. "You forced yourself upon us again when 
 we were endeavouring to evade all recognition, and 
 therefore I, very reluctantly, feel compelled to repeat 
 my advice before I go away for good." 
 
 " Why tell me this at all ? why not warn your 
 daughter of the dangers of chance acquaintanceship ?" 
 
 " She is a child, not seventeen years of age," he saidj 
 nervously; "why should I put foolish ideas into her 
 head ?" 
 
 " Does it not strike you that you are putting foolish 
 ideas into mine ?" 
 
 *•' No, sir," said Mr. Judge, with some warmth ; 
 " there's — there's, after all, a something in you that 
 I think I can trust. I would not have said this to 
 any other man ; I did not believe, an hour ago, that I 
 should say as much to you ; for Anne is in good hands, 
 and has a stanch friend in Ilpham. I simply ask you 
 to keep away from her and her aunt for their sakes ; 
 a visit would bring pain to them, and rob them, who are 
 lace-workers, of a certain portion of their income. 
 I — I — I," he added, with more nervousness apparent, 
 " merely wish to impress upon you that " 
 
 "That you and your daughter do not want my 
 society ; well, there is no occasion that you should 
 have it."
 
 86 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " It is a promise, then ?" 
 
 " Upon my word, Mr. Judge, I do not see why you 
 should come here and seek to bind me to a promise of 
 that kind. I shall certainly make no promise to yoa 
 concerning it. Surely you are not afraid that I shall 
 fall in love with Anne Judge ?" 
 
 " You would not do that," said Mr. Judge, turning 
 very pale. '' Why, she's a baby, sir, a poor vagrant of 
 a child, earning a shilling or two a week at lace-making. 
 Poor and plain, and rather ill-educated — that's a joke, 
 of course. But she is a timid girl, a girl with strange 
 fancies, and she has taken a kind of dislike to you, and 
 it — it worries her very much to see you ; and I thought 
 it would be better to place confidence in you, than to go 
 away and say nothing about all this." 
 
 "This Anne Judge weighs upon your mind," said 
 the younger man, " and if you do not take care, it will 
 soften that brain of yours,-old gentleman. You are too 
 anxious about your daughter, and that will end in 
 disappointment if you go on like this." 
 
 " You do not know what it is to have only one thing 
 to love — one thing to look forward to — one object 
 which to lose would be death," he said, tremulously. 
 " She stands by her father now, and thinks that there 
 is not such another man in the world. She knows what 
 an awful life his has been — without money, friends, or 
 sympathy — at every step a disappointment or a blight ; 
 and she knows that he looks forward as to heaven to
 
 MR. JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTER. 87 
 
 spendinof his last days with her. Why, sir," he added, 
 passionately, thumping his stick upon the floor, " the 
 man who would try to distract her thoughts from me 
 would be the cruellest wretch upon God's earth." 
 
 *' By George!" exclaimed Delancy, "I remember 
 where I met you now." 
 
 " Met me — met me ?" repeated Mr. Judge in amaze- 
 ment. " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I have been puzzling my head about you, and now 
 I have the story," said Delancy. '• You were a large 
 holder of shares in the Unlimited Credit Company, and 
 so was I, and we both attended the last meeting when 
 the smash was a few days off ; and you got up and 
 made a long speech about the ruin that had come upon 
 you through the carelessness of the unprincipled men 
 facing you, and you rattled away with that stick on the 
 floor at every senter.ce, and told the chairman that he 
 was the cruellest wretch upon God's earth too ; I re- 
 member the phrase, for he appealed to the meeting 
 against your gross personality, and the meeting hissed 
 him, and I — left on the rocks like yourself — hissed too, 
 my hardest. You remember ?" 
 
 " Were you the young man that proposed a committee 
 of investigation, and that I should be chairman of it ?" 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 " I am glad — that is, I should have been glad to see 
 you under other circumstances. You spoke well — I lost 
 my temper, with every penny that I had in the world."
 
 88 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 '* I lost every penny, too, Mr. Judge ; but I do not 
 know that I have been more unhappy for it." 
 
 "Ah, you are a youno^ man, with Hfe and strength 
 before you," he said, almost enviously ; " mine were 
 nearly worked out in earning the money which melted 
 away from me." 
 
 " That makes a difference. What are you doing 
 now for an income ?" 
 
 " Who — I ?" exclaimed Mr. Judge, with a start. 
 '• Oh, a clerk's place in Wolchester ; very poor pay — 
 very hard work." 
 
 " But you must have a home ?" 
 
 " Oh yes — such as it is," he said, rising, and evi- 
 dently anxious to be gone. 
 
 " Then why not take your daughter to it?" 
 
 "Presently, perhaps. When she is stronger, and 
 needs sea air less. Good-day ; it is close on eight 
 o'clock, and I must not lose ' the husbands' coach.' " 
 
 *' When do you come again ?" 
 
 " I do not know, sir ; it is that which troubles me." 
 
 He paused at the door and said : 
 
 " I dare say you think that I am a hard and selfish 
 man ; very likely I am not so grateful as I should be 
 under the circumstances for the kindness that you have 
 shown. But my life has taught me to be intensely 
 suspicious of everything around me." 
 
 "I can see that." 
 
 " I have been betrayed in so many ways," he said,
 
 MR. JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTER. 89 
 
 apologetically, " that I have lost faith in every one but 
 Anne and her aunt. You will stay here for some time ?" 
 
 " For three months, at least." 
 
 " Do you know Wolchester ?" 
 
 " Well. My mother's relations live there." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 He seemed to shrink a little as he muttered this, 
 and upon his face there settled a look of abject misery, 
 which replaced the haughtiness more natural to it. 
 
 '' Then you may come to Wolchester some day ?" 
 
 " It is very probable — that is, if I get an invitation 
 there. Can I call upon you, bring you any message 
 from your daughter ?" 
 
 " No, no. You said that you would not speak to 
 her." 
 
 3[r. Delancy begored to remind him that he had not 
 said anything of the kind, but Mr. Judge appeared not 
 to hear his protest. Other thoughts perplexed him as 
 the minutes sped on, and confused him ; for he put his 
 larore-veined hands to his head as thouofh endeavourino: 
 to remember something more which it was of importance 
 to communicate before he went away. 
 
 " I think I'll go now. It is just possible that I may 
 have occasion to write to you in a few weeks. You will 
 allow that liberty ?" 
 
 '•'Oh, certainly." 
 
 " I cannot say, but I think that it is possible. Let 
 me see — what else ?"
 
 90 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 He could not remember anything else, so he limped 
 across to our hero, and offered him his hand. 
 
 " I thank you for past kindness — although, of course, 
 I would have done as much for you in my place.'' 
 
 And with this odd way of expressing his thanks, Mr. 
 Judge took his departure. 
 
 Edmund Delancy followed him into the street, allow- 
 ing the old gentleman to precede him by a few steps. 
 " The husbands' coach " was about to start for Wolches- 
 ter, and as it was the one event of the week — with the 
 exception of the arrival of " the husbands' coach " on 
 Saturday nights — he did not feel inclined to give up the 
 sensation of seeing it start, because Anne Judge might 
 be there to bid her father good-bye. The nervous 
 excitability of that father concerning his daughter need 
 not be disturbed, he thought, with a generosity that 
 was natural to him ; he would watch the coach's de- 
 parture from a respectful distance, lest any feelings 
 should be hurt by his closer proximity. Mr. Judge 
 was a monomaniac — more of a lunatic, he thought, 
 than Hugh Aynard — but he would not let him proceed 
 upon his journey with a fear for his daughter on his 
 mind. He stood, then, about twenty yards from the 
 Gull Inn, and saw Mr. Judge ascend with difficulty to 
 the top of the coach after lingering to the last with his 
 daughter and a tall, bony woman, who wore a brown 
 dress and beaver bonnet. He noticed that Anne Judge 
 was crying, like the child that she was still, for all her
 
 MK. JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTER. 91 
 
 height and womanly looks, and that the bony woman 
 shook her twice by the arm and reproved her for her 
 weakness in the public streets. The father hung from 
 the top and poured down his reassuring words very 
 eagerly, interfering considerably with the comfort of 
 two husbands over whom he leaned. The coach was 
 crowded with husbands that morning — husbands in 
 good spirits, and who appeared to be rather glad of 
 getting out of Ilpham and away from their wives as 
 soon as possible : husbands — two young ones — in bad 
 spirits, who were looking down disconsolately at their 
 wives, one of whom held up her first baby, as the finest 
 sight that could be aff'orded in the fleeting moments 
 before departure ; husbands morose, who had said 
 good-bye, had turned their backs upon their better- 
 halves, and were far more interested in getting a light 
 to their cigars than in seeing the last of the partners 
 in their bliss ; and one husband fast asleep, with his 
 hat on the back of his head, and his coat-collar turned 
 up about his ears. A stirring scene for Ilpham, — a 
 scene that brought all the visitors into the streets, and 
 to their windows and doors, now that the weather was 
 favourable to sight-seeing; that lined the paths with 
 those who were natives to the place, and that brought 
 twenty or thirty miserably clad men and women from 
 the Backwater settlements, and planted them a little 
 way upon the road, gaunt, haggard, and hollow-eyed, 
 to see the last of Pownie's coach till Saturday.
 
 92 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 A long-drawn blast from the guard's horn, the clatter- 
 ing of sixteen iron hoofs in the roadway, and then " the 
 husbands' coach " upon its way to Wolchester, amidst 
 the waving of hands from the coach-roof, of handker- 
 chiefs from the wives left behind, and the hurrahing of 
 boys who followed the equipage down the street. 
 
 Ned Delancy glanced at Anne Judge, who was crying 
 still, despite her aunt's remonstrance, and then went 
 back to Prospect Terrace, almost wqndering at the 
 affection of the daughter for the father. 
 
 "He appears a cross, selfish, jealous, irritable old 
 beggar," he said, summing up the qualifications of Mr. 
 Judge on his way, " of whom any daughter might 
 reasonably become tired. A life devoted to him and 
 his vagaries as the chief end of a girl's existence! 
 Upon my word, I do not envy the future of Anne 
 Judge, and upon my word I do not believe in it." 
 
 At the door of Prospect Terrace he hesitated whether 
 to enter, or to go for a stroll and survey Ilpha m whilst 
 time was available. He decided on returning to his 
 drawing-room at last. 
 
 He went up-stairs into his room, and was attracted 
 upon his entrance by a letter lying on the table. 
 
 " How long has this been here ? Who brought it ?" 
 he called to the servant, as she passed the landing-place 
 outside. 
 
 *' No one has brought it here, sir." 
 
 " Ask Mrs. Simmonds."
 
 MR. JUDGE GOES BACK TO WOLCHESTER. 93 
 
 *' Mrs. Siramonds has been out a-marketing this 
 hour, sir." 
 
 " Oh, very good. Perhaps old Judge has left me 
 his blessing and his autograph." 
 
 He broke open the envelope, and read the following, 
 in a clear, bold hand that was strange to him : 
 
 ^^ Stay away from the jparty at MarJchams Hotel to- 
 night. Invent any excuse, hut, for your oivn sake, stay 
 away /" 
 
 Ned Delancy read these lines several times over, 
 becoming more confused, even more angry, with each 
 perusal of this vague epistle. 
 
 " Some kind friend extremely interested in my 
 welfare, but extremely ignorant of the nature of the 
 beast," he said, reflectively. He did not care about 
 going out that evening, or of renewing his acquaintance 
 with those people from that past wherein his ship had 
 sunk with all hopes on board. Before he had risen 
 that morning he had lain for half an hour thinking if 
 it were possible to frame a reasonable excuse for his 
 absence, even though he had told George Day that he 
 never broke his promises. He had shrunk, as if by 
 instinct, from that night's dinner-party, but the letter 
 had now given a new turn to his thoughts. 
 
 " I hate mysterious warnings and anonymous corre- 
 spondents," he said, tearing up the letter ; " and, of 
 course, I dine with Doctor Day to-night."
 
 94 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE DINNER AT MAEKHAM's HOTEL. 
 
 Markham's Hotel, Ilpham-on-the-Cliff, was built by 
 a speculative wine merchant, who cut his throat after- 
 wards in revenge for his foolhardiness. It was built 
 away from the town, and on the edge of the cliff, so 
 that its guests could sniff the sea breeze, and hold 
 themselves aloof from the common order of creation — 
 the Wolchester people and the nobodies. But the 
 guests seldom came after the hotel was completed, and 
 those who patronized the new venture grumbled at the 
 prices, and worried the landlord into an early grave. 
 Thus it remained blank and disconsolate for two years, 
 much to the satisfaction of Mr. Pownie of the Gull 
 Inn, who had naturally resented its intrusion ; and it 
 was finally bought up " for a mere song " by a second 
 speculator, who advertised in the papers, and gave a 
 drawing of it in Bradshaw, and thus lured a few folk 
 who loved peace and quietness to its shelter. The 
 hotel was in good hatids now ; it was a private hotel,
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL. 95 
 
 that relied upon its gentility, and was gradually 
 gathering to itself the scraps of a connection. People 
 were treated well there, and therefore recommended it 
 to their friends : hence Doctor Day and his sister found 
 themselves confronting the North Sea one summer time, 
 a week or two before the London season had worn them 
 and itself out. 
 
 It was to this hotel that Edmund Delancy betook his 
 way on the evening of the day that " the husbands' 
 coach" went away from AYolchester; it was up the 
 broad staircase of this hotel and into the ffreat drawinof- 
 room that the servant ushered him, announcing to those 
 within in the deepest bass : 
 " Mr. Delancy." 
 
 George Day was the first to welcome him. 
 " My dear Ned, very pleased to see you here." 
 The old friends shook hands, and then Lady Bur- 
 linson, in an evening dress of a white cloudy material 
 that suited the slight figure of its wearer, with jet 
 ornaments upon her neck and arms, and with her fine 
 face flushed a little, as though with pleasure or shame 
 at his meeting her once more — which was it? — rose 
 from the couch, and welcomed him to their apartments 
 also. 
 
 " You had no difficulty in finding us, I hope," she 
 said, half jestingly; *' Ilpham-on-the-Clifi^ is not a 
 labyrinth." 
 
 *' I found my way very easily, thank you."
 
 96 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 *' What a beautiful evening it is." 
 
 " Yes, very beautiful." 
 
 He was thinking what a beautiful woman she was, 
 rather than of the fineness of the night, and the answer 
 might have stood for the echo to his thoughts. He felt 
 proud of the taste that he had displayed in selection 
 four years ago, when he was a weak-headed stripling ; 
 but he was more proud of his firmness now, of the in- 
 difference with which he could regard her and not feel 
 his heart stir, as in the old days when she was all in all 
 to him. It was a novel position, and it pleased him 
 after awhile, althouofh he had no intention of making" 
 these people his best friends again. He was glad that 
 he had come to Markham's, neither alarmed by the 
 grand folk who were there to meet him, nor scared by 
 the contents of the anonymous letter which some med- 
 dlesome man or woman had written to him. 
 
 He felt perfectly at his ease ; he was on his guard to 
 a certain extent, for he had not yet fathomed George 
 Day's anxiety to renew their old acquaintance, but he 
 was not disturbed in mind by the " style " which sur- 
 rounded him, and to which he had been a stranger 
 since Fortune's wheel had twirled him undermost. 
 
 " How are you, Delancy ?" said a voice at his side, 
 after he had exchanged greetings with Lady Burlinson. 
 " A charming evening, is it not ?" 
 
 Ned turned, and found Mr. Aynard beaming with 
 smiles at his elbow.
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL. 97 
 
 " Very charming indeed," answered Ned ; adding, 
 in an undertone, " and so are you, it seems." 
 
 " Very glad to see you again," Mr. Aynard said, as 
 he wrung our hero's hand in his own. *' I don't think 
 that there's anything more delightful than to meet a 
 fellow — especially if he has grown up a good fellow — 
 whom one has known at school, and had all kinds of 
 fun with. It touches the poetry in a man ; it brings it 
 out of him." 
 
 Ned regarded Mr. Aynard curiously ; he was of 
 opinion that it had all been brought out of him with a 
 vengeance. What a pity that it had been bottled up so 
 tightly last Sunday morning, when Mr. Aynard looked 
 him down. 
 
 " Yes, the sensation is pleasant when those who meet 
 have been old friends as well as schoolfellows," said 
 Ned, bowing somewhat stiffly. He could not so 
 readily forget the haughtiness of twenty-four hours 
 since. 
 
 "We were the best of friends, Delancy, if you 
 remember ?" 
 
 " My memory seems disposed to fail me a little in 
 this particular." 
 
 " Indeed. You have not forgotten taking my part 
 when the whole school set upon me, surely ? The boys 
 had been chaffing me and playing me all manner of 
 vile tricks, and I turned upon one of them at last 
 and pushed him down-stairs." 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTEK. 
 
 **I remember now, Mr. Aynard ; you nearly broke 
 his back." 
 
 " Well_, they waited for me in the playground, 
 seventy-six of them. I can see them now," he went 
 on, with an excitement that evidently realized the scene 
 in all its past distinctness : " there was Jones, as spite- 
 ful a cur as ever lived, with a rope all in knots, and 
 Jackson with another rope — I always hated Jackson — 
 and the rest of them, whooping and howling round me 
 like demons ; and though I was a big fellow for my 
 age, and older by a year or two than most of them, 
 still seventy-six at once were too many for me, and 
 they would certainly have limbed me, if you had not 
 come between us and said that it was not fair play. I 
 never forgot you after that, Delancy ; I always thought 
 you a fine fellow." 
 
 " You fought it out with Jackson afterwards," said 
 Delancy. 
 
 "Yes, and Jackson gave me a thrashing — so he 
 did." 
 
 The white face assumed a vacant expression after 
 this ; the grey eyes stared dreamily at Ned, and a thin 
 hand — like a woman's — went up to the moustached 
 mouth in a weak, discomfited fashion that was some- 
 what amusing to his observer. Doctor Day clapped 
 Hugh Aynard familiarly on the shoulder. 
 
 " I dare say that Jackson got his thrashing in return 
 another day. You were not the boy, any more than
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAil's HOTEL. 99 
 
 you are the man, to put up with an indignity. In fact, 
 Aynard, it is this confounded high spirit of yours, the 
 natural ebulhtion of the blue blood, that gets you into 
 scrapes, and makes enemies at times." 
 
 '' I cannot forgive a man who insults me," he 
 answered, looking fiercely at the opposite wall ; " I 
 would never forgive that man. He had better be 
 careful of his life from that time." 
 
 '•' Not quite so bad as that, friend, for the days of 
 duelling are over. But I think that we -can trust 
 Hugh Aynard to pay a man out in his own coin." 
 
 "Yes, you may trust him in that," said Aynard, 
 exultingly. " I am a man of strong likes and dislikes : 
 I like you. Day — I shall like you, Delancy, immensely 
 — Lady Burlinson, I cannot find words to express my 
 liking for yourself, you are aware." 
 
 He bowed very low as he addressed the lady, like a 
 courtier of the old school. With a face of less serious 
 intensity, he would have seemed to verge upon bur- 
 lesque in the extravagance of his reverence. Lady 
 Burlinson took the salutation as her due, and smiled 
 faintly in return. Ned Delancy looked from one to 
 another, and thought already what an ill-matched 
 couple they were. 
 
 " The old, old story of the money, I suppose," he 
 muttered to himself. " Surely Clara Day " — he called 
 her in his heart by her maiden name still — " cannot 
 love this man."
 
 100 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 "Dinner is served, sir," announced the servant, 
 throwing open the doors of the dining-room. 
 Doctor Day turned to Ned. 
 
 "Will you take my sister, please? You and I," 
 turning to Aynard, and passing an arm through his, 
 " must console ourselves with each other's company on 
 this occasion. Ladies are scarce in Ilpham." 
 
 ** Yes— but " 
 
 '* But we shall arrange a different programme on a 
 future occasion," said Day very quickly ; " this is an 
 extempore affair altogether." 
 
 " With Edmund Delancy as the guest of the even- 
 ing," said Lady Burlinson, as she took our hero's arm, 
 and looked up into his face. 
 
 " That is a novel position for Edmund Delancy now," 
 replied Ned. 
 
 "Ah, now," she murmured, as they passed into 
 the dining-room, and took their places round a well- 
 furnished table, bright with silver and glass, and gay 
 and fragrant with the great epergne of flowers in the 
 centre. " Ah, now !" 
 
 There was a strange pathos in that last reply. 
 Ned Delancy could not get the ring of it from his ears 
 for awhile, it implied so much to regret in the present^ 
 to look back at in the past Why did she speak like 
 that, and in that tone, to him ? Was she anxious to 
 lead him to the old ground, to test his powers of 
 endurance, her own powers which had years ago so
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTET;. 101 
 
 utterly subdued him, and which he felt now were im- 
 potent — ay, for ever impotent — against his self-respect ? 
 Was she so vain and weak a woman as to re-attempt 
 his conquest — he, an organist of a country church? or 
 was it a wretched curiosity to know how long he had 
 thought of her, and mourned for her, after their en- 
 gagement had been annulled, and there w^ere whispers 
 in town that Clara Day was going to marry a baronet ? 
 As he took his seat by her side, he looked a degree or 
 two more hard and firm, as a soldier might do who 
 buckles on his armour for battle ; and George Day, on 
 his left at the foot of the table, saw this, and wondered 
 what it meant. The fair girl, facing her brother, was a 
 lono^ while arrano^ino- her dress to her liking- ; when 
 they were all seated she was still busy with the folds of 
 her skirt, and looking down. 
 
 " Are you ready, dear ?" asked Doctor Day, at last, 
 with the faintest sign of impatience in his tones. 
 " Quite ready." 
 
 Delancy noticed that her hand was trembling 
 slightly, and that her lip quivered for an instant before 
 she answered her brother, and he was surprised at this. 
 Was this acting, or had his allusion to the past really 
 touched her feelings ? She had been a woman of deep 
 feeling he thought once, before he became thoroughly 
 convinced that there had been no real feeling in her at all. 
 He would be brilliant and eloquent, he thought — a 
 regular diner-out that evening. She must not fancy
 
 102 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 for an instant that he wished to recur to the past, and 
 conjure up its phantoms to scare both of them. He 
 was not careful of his speech, and he must be more 
 guarded in his conversation, if this woman took every- 
 thing that he said to herself. She was too sensitive, 
 and he too careless in the matter. 
 
 The dinner began well and proceeded well after this 
 determination. It was a sumptuous meal in its way, 
 and George Day had spared no expense' in the enter- 
 tainment provided for his friends. All the luxuries that 
 Ilpham, and twenty miles round Ilpham, could furnish 
 were placed in succession on the physician's dlning- 
 table, and the watchful waiters in the rear were con- 
 stant — too constant, perhaps — in their attentions to 
 the wine-glasses, which ever bubbled to the brim with 
 the various wines that the changes of the feast and the 
 laws of fashion necessitated. 
 
 In the midst of all this, and as he took up a lavender 
 and gold programme of the feast — a programme which 
 Doctor Day had *had printed for the occasion, and 
 placed at the right hand of each guest — Ned Delancy 
 could not restrain a smile. Yesterday's crude remark 
 of Mr. Judge had suddenly recurred to him. 
 
 " You have much to be thankful for, if you're fond of 
 eating," the old gentleman had said to him under the 
 church porch of St. Bride's, and the applicability of 
 that observation to the present occasion nearly made 
 him laugh outright.
 
 • THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL. 103 
 
 " I wonder what you are smiling at, Mr. Delancy ?" 
 Lady Burlinson said to him. 
 
 The dinner was half concluded ; the guests were at 
 their ease, and generally conversational ; the old sweet- 
 hearts had talked commonplaces in the usual dinner- 
 party style, and Mr. Aynard had looked towards them 
 more than once as though he did not like Ned Delancy 
 taking the lead, and engaging the attention so com- 
 pletely of his host's fair sister. 
 
 " The remark of a friend, uttered yesterday." 
 
 " You have friends in Ilpham, then ?" 
 
 " Acquaintances is the better term. I met a Mr. 
 Judge coming up from Wolchester on Saturday last, 
 and that gentleman has made me smile more than once 
 since his short visit here." 
 
 " Judge," she said : "I am deeply interested in a 
 poor girl named Judge, round by the Backwater." 
 
 *' It is that girl's father whom I call my friend," he 
 explained. He thought it more than probable that he 
 should shock the fine feelings of these aristocrats around 
 him, but Lady Burlinson said at once : 
 
 " A man who has known better days ; I have heard 
 of him. Do you know Anne ?'* 
 
 " I have seen her once or twice." 
 
 " Do you think that she is pretty ?" 
 
 " Not very. But hers is a face of wonderful intel- 
 ligence — a ' face that looks like a story/ as Beaumont 
 says."
 
 104 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Yes, and * a face that has a story to tell/ as a more 
 modern poet than yours observes. I do not know when 
 I have met a girl who has more completely drawn me 
 towards her." 
 
 ** That's strange," ejaculated Mr. Aynard, who was 
 leaning across the table now, with his head in dangerous 
 proximity to a dozen wax-lights before him. 
 
 " What is strange?" asked Doctor Day. 
 
 " That Lady Burlinson should be attracted by a face 
 — drawn towards it as by a spell." 
 
 " And a woman's face too," laughed the doctor ; " yes, 
 that is strange enough." 
 
 "I like Anne Judge," said Lady Burlinson, turning 
 to our hero : " there is much depth of affection in the 
 girl ; at every turn I see it : it shows itself in many 
 little ways which are above — or rather beyond — all affec- 
 tation. She makes an idol of this father, and tells me 
 that her mission lies in brightening his future, by way 
 of amends for a past that has been terribly dark to him. 
 What a past that must have been !" she added, with a 
 shudder. 
 
 "Old Judge has been a man of many disappoint- 
 ments, I believe," said Ned. " I hope that he will not 
 be disappointed in his daughter by way of a conclu- 
 sion." 
 
 " Do you not believe that the daughter will keep her 
 word, then ?" 
 
 " Women do not always keep their words Con-
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL. 105 
 
 found it !" he muttered to himself, as Lady Burlinson 
 took a sudden and deep breath — " to their fathers," he 
 added ; " and it would not be fair or reasonable to ex- 
 pect that they should. The father —who is not a perfect 
 specimen of human-kind — would have her remain a 
 spinster to the last days of her life, and let his selfish- 
 ness stand in the way, possibly, of her happiness with 
 a lover." 
 
 " And as women are never happy without lovers, 
 Ned, we will write old Judge down a selfish being, and 
 dismiss him with our supreme contempt," said the doctor. 
 " You do not like this sparkling Moselle ?" 
 
 " It is very good, and very strong," said Ned. 
 
 "It is getting flat there at your elbow. Waiter," 
 and George Day made a significant gesture towards 
 our hero's glass. 
 
 " Leave it alone, please," said Ned, with a sternness 
 that took the waiter aback, as he was about to add a 
 creaming head to the wine. " And so, Lady Burlinson, 
 you like Anne Judge ?" 
 
 " I like any one whose affection is genuine." 
 
 Ned could have shrugged his shoulders at this, in 
 the French fashion, but he merely said : 
 
 " And you find more genuine affection amongst the 
 poor than the rich ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think so," she said. " How is that to be 
 accounted for ?" 
 
 " The poor have more trials to encounter, and more
 
 106 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 temptations to resist," said Ned ; " and trouble in any 
 shape elicits true sympathy, and finds out the sham." 
 
 " Have they more trials ?" she murmured, looking 
 steadily before her. " I do not think so." 
 
 " Trials such as they have would kill most of you," 
 said Ned. " You are exotics, to whom the first sharp 
 frost would be death." 
 
 He spoke as if he stood apart from their circle, and 
 belonged more to the poor whom he defended. She 
 turned to him again with that earnestness which had 
 been her greatest charm to him before he had distrusted 
 its genuine nature. 
 
 " It is not that. They bear their trials better because 
 there are more to sustain them — to share sorrow and 
 affliction with them — because they are truer to each 
 other. It is when one is alone in the world, however 
 bright that world may appear, that one gives way like 
 a child." 
 
 *' Yes, that is true," answered Ned. 
 
 " Clara," said Doctor Day, in the mild reproving 
 tone again, " Mr. Aynard is waiting to tal^e wine with 
 
 you." 
 
 Lady Burlinson started. 
 
 " Oh, I beg Mr. Aynard's pardon. I have been led 
 into too warm an argument with Mr. Delancy." 
 
 Mr. Delancy filled the glass of the lady at his side, 
 and the usual form was gone through, perhaps with 
 more gravity than is ordinary on such occasions.
 
 THE DIXXER AT MARKHAm'S HOTEL. 107 
 
 " This practice is creeping back into the fashionable 
 programme," said Doctor Day. 
 
 " Is it ?" said Ned. *' I have not had an opportmiity 
 to observe lately whether it is creeping out or in. 
 There's an old-fashioned courtesy about it that I like, 
 for the reason that I am a trifle old-fashioned myself, 
 I dare say. Lady Burlinson will allow me to follow 
 Mr. Aynard in that process in which he has so gallantly 
 forestalled me." 
 
 " You should have been more quick, sir," said Mr. 
 Aynard, with an abruptness that reminded our hero of 
 last Sunday. 
 
 "It is not every one that is endowed with Mr. 
 Aynard's graceful promptitude," explained Xed ; and 
 then he took wine with Lady Burlinson, whilst Mr. 
 Aynard, with all his amiability quenched from his white 
 face, scowled across the table at him. 
 
 Conversation flagged somewhat after this, and the 
 dinner reached its termination almost in silence. Mr. 
 Aynard relapsed into deep thought, from which his friend 
 Doctor Day could only arouse him to utter occasionally 
 a monosyllable ; and a man in deep thought at a dinner- 
 table is a wet blanket upon general conviviality. Ned 
 glanced at his vis-a-vis more than once, and pitied from 
 his heart the woman who was likely to be his wife, and 
 whom he had taken in to dinner. Truly Lady Bur- 
 linson was a woman of strange tastes, and had not 
 been so lucky with one husband, if rumour were to be
 
 108 
 
 believed, as to display such want of caution in her selec- 
 tion of a second. It was a strange ambition to fix upon 
 this man, let him be as rich as Croesus. He could not 
 imagine that it was love ; he never thought of love in 
 connection with Clara Burlinson and Aynard of Thirby 
 Cross. 
 
 And yet Hugh Aynard was not a bad-looking man, 
 and had he been less variable in his moods, might have 
 impressed Delancy more favourably. He was five years 
 the senior of our hero ; he had been a big fellow at 
 school when he himself was quite a little boy, by com- 
 parison. He was not exactly a big fellow still, for he 
 was narrow across the chest, and long and thin like a 
 flamingo ; but he was not ill-looking or ungainly, and 
 impressionable young maidens — not cool and cal- 
 culating women like Lady Burlinson, Ned thought, a 
 little contemptuously — might have seen something 
 romantic in the pale, sorrowful face, and in those rest- 
 less grey eyes, that redeemed the face from its natural 
 immobility. 
 
 Over the wine at dessert — and Hugh Aynard drank 
 unsparingly of port wine — he brightened up a little, and 
 spoke more to his fair hostess than to Doctor Day ; and 
 Delancy, who had come there to observe, thought that 
 she was as kind in her manner towards Mr. Aynard as 
 might be expected from a lady who anticipated an offer 
 very speedily. 
 
 Still, for all this, Ned thought, what did they want
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM*S HOTEL. 109 
 
 with him there ? Was it real friendship, or was there 
 something at work behind the scenes, and he a part of 
 the maciiinery which set the wheels in motion ? Real 
 friendship on George Day's part he could scarcely 
 believe in, and yet he had liked George Day in old 
 days, and fancied he had been liked in return, for all 
 the difference of ten or eleven years between them. 
 His haert had warmed again at the sight of the man 
 sitting in his solitary lodgings at Prospect Terrace, for 
 he had brought back with him the glow of that past 
 wherein they had been friends. If he had fancied for 
 four years that Day had dropped him when good luck 
 had dropped him too, Day had explained that, and had 
 asked him to dinner at Markham's Hotel as a proof 
 
 of his old friendship. Unless And then that 
 
 abominable letter rose before him with its warning; 
 and though he despised the method with which it had 
 been thrust in his way, still it kept him on his guard 
 against them all. 
 
 He was becoming as thoughtful as Hugh Aynard 
 had been, when Lady Burlinson disturbed him by 
 rising from the table. He rose with the rest, and 
 there was a slight struggle for an instant with the 
 door-handle between him and Mr. Aynard, himself 
 coming off the victor, and bowing the old love from 
 the room. 
 
 " You gentlemen will not be long over your wine ?" 
 she said, as she passed towards the drawing-room.
 
 110 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 The gentlemen said that they would not be long 
 before they followed her ; then Ned Delancy closed 
 the door, and resumed his seat. 
 
 " Now, Aynard, we can forgive you smoking, if you 
 like," said Doctor Day. 
 
 " Thank you : one cigar will set me right again. I 
 am awfully queer to-day." 
 
 " What is the matter with you ?" 
 
 " I have been studying too hard, working too hard 
 at that symphony of mine, and I'm not quite myself. 
 See how my hand shakes." 
 
 He held his thin, woman's hand forwards, and it 
 was evident that his nerves were a trifle unstrung. 
 
 " Studying in that queer crib of yours in the Back- 
 water?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You must mind that a high tide does not carry 
 your study, your piano, and yourself away some night." 
 
 " It's as firm as a rock. The island itself on which 
 it is built is not a foot under water, even in the winter 
 time. It's the only place, Day, where there is peace 
 and rest for me." 
 
 " It's a change from Thirby Cross." 
 
 *' You must spend a week with me there." 
 
 " Thank you. When my engagements allow, per- 
 haps I will," said Day ; " meanwhile, here is a thorough 
 musician, a clever composer, though he's very quiet 
 about his symphonies, a man of genius who hides away
 
 THE DINNER AT MAKKHAM's HOTEL. Ill 
 
 in the shade, who can give you much valuable advice, 
 Hugh." 
 
 ** Ye — es, I dare say he can," said Aynard, looking 
 up from his cigar-case at our hero. " I shall be glad 
 to have a few musical evenings with him when we 
 understand each other a little better." 
 
 " When I like you a little more," his eyes seemed 
 to say, as Ned Delancy slightly bowed to his remark. 
 
 " I heard you play that church organ yesterday 
 morning as it has never been played yet at St. Bride's," 
 Mr. Aynard continued ; " we should be friends, with 
 one taste in common. Men of one profession are 
 either very great friends, or — enemies." 
 
 " Why enemies ?" asked Day. 
 
 " I suppose they get jealous of each other's abilities 
 — not that I am likely to be jealous of yours," he 
 said with emphasis, "for I acknowledge my master 
 already." 
 
 He bowed with an easy grace towards Ned, who 
 thought that the fellow was improving a bit. Perhaps 
 when they understood each other a little better, they 
 might get on together. It was pretty evident on his 
 part that he did not understand the gentleman at 
 present. 
 
 " You smoke, of course ?" and the cigar-case was 
 pushed across towards our hero. 
 
 "No," said Delancy ; "it's a habit of which I have 
 steered clear."
 
 112 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Well — it's a luxury, and I cannot afford luxuries." 
 
 " I think it would kill me to give up my tobacco," 
 Aynard said, extravagantly ; " but I'm not going to 
 smoke here by myself, for all that. Day ?" and the 
 cigar-case was transferred to the physician's hands. 
 
 " Why, you know that I never smoke, on principle. 
 Have I not proved in my last work that tobacco is 
 slow poison ?" 
 
 " I don't know. I never read your last work," said 
 Aynard, seizing the decanter again ; " I read nothing 
 but what appeals to the soul and comes from the heart. 
 What have I to do with doctor's books ?" 
 
 "If my books could have cured you of smoking, 
 Hugh, they might have been of service to you, and 
 prolonged the natural term of your existence." 
 
 " I shall live long enough," was the gloomy answer. 
 
 " Well, you have m-y full permission to smoke. I 
 don't think that you are at your best, Hugh, until the 
 cigar is in your mouth." 
 
 " Then you'll not see me at my best to-night, Day," 
 he said, snatching up his cigar-case, dropping it into 
 his pocket, and rising from the table. " If you will not 
 join me, I will resist the temptation. I'll go and see 
 whether Lady Burlinson is presiding at the tea-table." 
 
 He was departing with a sullen expression of coun- 
 tenance, when the physician startled him by a hearty' 
 laugh.
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL. 113 
 
 " An artful strolie of policy," cried Day ; " why, 
 Aynard, that's well acted from the beginning. You 
 desert us for a lady — you steal a march upon my 
 friend and her old sweetheart, who should have taken 
 precedence to-night ; it is not fair of you." 
 
 Aynard laughed at this, and went away laughing 
 very good-humouredly ; but it was Ned Delancy's turn 
 to frown. As the door closed, he faced his host almost 
 sternly. 
 
 " Why did you say that ?" he asked. 
 
 George Day flinched for an instant in his chair, as if 
 he was trying to hide himself behind his black beard. 
 
 "Say what — about the old sweetheart?" 
 
 " Yes, it was foolish — it was unnecessary." 
 
 '* My dear Ned, you are heart-whole, or I would not 
 have made an allusion to it. You have outlived all the 
 old romance, you said, and can treat it as a mere jest, 
 surely ? Had I thought otherwise " 
 
 " I have outlived all the old romance, of course. I 
 should be a weak fool if I had not completely buried 
 that. But I was once in earnest, George, and I would 
 as soon jest at my dead father as at my dead love." 
 
 "Still, it is not an aflkir to treat with solemnity 
 now," said Day. " You were only twenty years of age 
 when you were first engaged." 
 
 " I was a deep thinker, and so I thought seriously, I 
 suppose," said Ned ; " but of course I was a boy, and 
 it was a boy's folly. Still, the man may look sadlv 
 
 VOL. L I
 
 114 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 back even at his boy's dreams, and be none the worse, 
 or none the less a man." 
 
 *' Exactly," said Day, for the want of a better answer 
 at the time. He was beginning to wonder in his turn 
 if he understood Ned Delancy, a youth who had been 
 very impressionable, and had looked at things in a novel 
 light, but still a youth easy to move and influence. 
 Delancy might be impressionable still, and he certainly 
 regarded things in an odd, unmatter-of-fact way yet ; 
 but was he easy to influence, he wondered, or had the 
 loss of his mother's fortune altered and hardened him ? 
 It was strange — it was even awkward — if there should 
 arise a general misunderstanding between this party 
 of four. 
 
 Doctor Day changed the subject. 
 
 " What do you think of my friend ?" he asked. 
 
 " Well, I don't admire him," was the frank answer. 
 
 "Oh, you have seen very little of him at present. 
 He is not always like this ; we shall find out presently 
 that something has disturbed his usual equanimity." 
 
 " A man has no right to allow his equanimity to be 
 disturbed in company," said Ned. 
 
 " This fellow is so sensitive — so keenly alive to matters 
 that would be trivial to us. Between ourselves, Ned," 
 he said, lowering his voice, as a servant came into the 
 room and went to the sideboard, "he has a great 
 trouble." 
 
 " That renders a fellow sensitive whilst it lasts."
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL. 115 
 
 " You are not thinking of my sister again ?" Day 
 said, almost sharply. 
 
 " No ; I was thinking of the Unlimited Credit Com- 
 pany, and all my mother's money, which did not last 
 so long as the trouble that there was about it. And 
 Aynard's trouble — is it a secret ?" 
 
 " Not a great one. Aynard is surrounded by schemers, 
 poor fellow — by greedy relatives who are always on the 
 watch for his little eccentricities, in order to magnify 
 and distort them, and make up a case. They want to 
 prove him mad, because he is rich and they are not." 
 
 " Ah, that's the old story," said Ned, warmly ; " what 
 a confounded shame !" 
 
 " If they succeed in shutting him up, they get all his 
 money very easily, for he would never come out alive ; 
 the horror of his incarceration would kill him." 
 
 " I see that." 
 
 " Well, Aynard is my friend, and I can answer for his 
 sanity. My word — the word of a physician — will weigh 
 heavily in his favour when his case comes on before the 
 lawyers. You have seen him to-night, Ned ; what is 
 your opinion ?" 
 
 " Oh, he's sane enough, and — ill-tempered enough." 
 
 " He has been disturbed to-day, possibly by some- 
 thing new — for there are always spies at Thirby Cross — 
 or you would have found him to-night an agreeable and 
 accomplished gentleman. Still, meeting him under un- 
 favourable circumstances, you can see that he is sane."
 
 116 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 *' I should say perfectly sane," said Ned. " But had 
 we not better change the topic, as your servant appears 
 interested in our conversation, and may be a native of 
 the place, and a circulating medium ?" 
 
 *' Quite right," said Day ; " we cannot be too careful. 
 I propose that we drink one glass together for old 
 friendship's sake, and then join my sister at the tea- 
 table." 
 
 The two men filled their glasses, and nodded over 
 them at each other. Day even extended his hand, and 
 Ned felt forced to place his within it. 
 
 " I am really glad to see you, Delancy," he said. " I 
 hope that times are changing for the better with you." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " You do not seem the man likely to be kept down 
 long," said Day. "I have many friends, and Miigh 
 connections ;' and there are ways, Ned, in which I can 
 advance you in good time — I feel sure of it." 
 
 " I think that I would prefer to advance by my own 
 efforts, George," answered his friend. " I rather admire 
 this wandering about whilst I remain a bachelor. 
 There's a free-and-easy element about it which suits 
 me. When I meet the woman who is likely to be my 
 wife, I shall look ahead with greater gravity." 
 
 " It may be late to begin then, Ned." 
 
 " Well, it may," said the other, with a laugh. 
 
 Then they went arm-in-arm into the drawing-room, 
 and Delancy, whose impressions were still wavering.
 
 THE DIXXER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL. 117 
 
 thought that Doctor Day was a very good fellow after 
 all. Why, he was a good fellow enough four years aofo, 
 and prosperity and fame were not likely to make him a 
 bad one. 
 
 George Day held him tightly by the arm still, when 
 the drawing-room was reached, and led him at once to 
 the piano. 
 
 " Now, Ned, whilst my sister pours you out a cup of 
 tea. No ceremony with old friends ; we have heard you 
 play before." 
 
 " Is this fair, Lady Burlinson ?" asked Ned, looking 
 across at the hostess, who sat before her small tea-table, 
 with Hugh Aynard very attentive at her side. 
 
 " I think that you are fairly made prisoner," she 
 answered, " and must succumb to your captor." 
 
 " Yery well," said Ned, seating himself and opening 
 the piano. " Will you have the last new waltz ?" 
 
 " No, no," said Day ; " something of your own," 
 
 " It is something f my own. I was lucky enough to 
 find a purchaser for the copjTight before I left London, 
 where it rains copyrights, with verj- few to pick them up." 
 
 u But " 
 
 But Edmund Delancy had made up his mind to dance- 
 music, and a waltz he would play, as though to give an 
 air of lightness and brightness to the community, or with 
 an effort to cheer Hugh Aynard, who was not in his 
 usual spirits, according to the assertion of his friend. 
 He would not show off on that occasion, although he
 
 118 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 was a player of mark, as his friends knew — as he knew 
 himself, without being conceited about it. People told 
 him that he lost his chances by his carelessness, and he 
 only laughed at these people, and said that he preferred 
 to go his own road. He played his waltz, despite all 
 remonstrances, and it was brilliantly dashed through, 
 and swarmed with variations by way of a finish — varia- 
 tions that were evidently extemporized, and were none 
 the less sparkling for that. The performance proved 
 the player, and when he had concluded he found Hugh 
 Aynard at his side with tears in his eyes. 
 
 " Ah, that's wonderful," he said, with a sigh. 
 " There's real life in that touch — you must have been 
 born a musician." 
 
 " My nurse never remarked it," he answered, " and 
 my teachers had hard work with me when I made my 
 first start. You play, Mr. Aynard ?" 
 
 " Well, yes — a little. I am composing a symphony 
 in C." 
 
 " That is hard work." 
 
 " I like it — it amuses and soothes me," he answered. 
 *' Shall I give you an idea of it ?" 
 
 " If you will favour me." 
 
 The two men changed places, and Hugh Aynard 
 began. He was not a bad player, but he was not a 
 good one, and he had the disadvantage of playing a bad 
 thing — a hash-up of bits of Mendelssohn and Beethoven 
 that Ned recognized at once as " cribs." Ned Delancy
 
 THE DINNER AT MARKHAM's HOTEL. 119 
 
 had had more than enough of the symphony in five 
 minutes ; he went to the table and took up the tea-cup 
 which Lady Burlinson had placed there, sitting by her 
 side again, as she almost instinctively made room for 
 him by drawing her dress towards her. After awhile 
 they spoke of Ilpham again — of the Judges, of the 
 Backwater people who were poor and the Ilpham visitors 
 who were rich, or pompous, or ill-bred ; of the brother, 
 there standing by the piano still, who was fast be- 
 coming a famous man in his profession, his sister said. 
 The symphony continued — seemed as if it would go on 
 for all time. Hugh Aynard had forgotten everything 
 and everybody in his playing: he was humming to 
 himself as his long fingers rattled over the keys ; he 
 was beating time with his feet, head, and elbows ; he 
 was wholly absorbed, and Doctor Day stood there 
 watching him, as though he could listen to such har- 
 mony till his dying day. 
 
 Ned Delancy and Lady Burlinson strayed on to the 
 balcony at last. The windows had long been invitingly 
 open, and the room was hot that night. Lady Burlinson 
 went there to escape the heat, and Ned Delancy to 
 escape the noise, and thus they stood apart at last from 
 the others, standing on the balcony of Markham's 
 Hotel, looking at the sea. 
 
 " How bright the moon is to-night," she said ; " and 
 the town to the left there dotted with lights, makes 
 quite a pretty picture. Are you fond of the sea ?"
 
 120 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Yes, in summer." 
 
 "I love it at all times: it's a friend to me, and 
 always has a mood that suits my own." 
 
 '' Save and except its angry mood, which the nature 
 of Lady Burlinson cannot match, I am sure." 
 
 " Oh, don't talk to me like that," she said, turning 
 half away from him, making even a half movement 
 towards the drawing-room, and pausing again irreso- 
 lutely. 
 
 " One feels led on to compliments in the moonlight," 
 said Ned, apologetically. " You must forgive me." 
 
 " You were laughing at me, not complimenting me," 
 she answered, very gravely still, " and that might have 
 been spared a friend, perhaps. You were more generous 
 once." 
 
 " I hope that I am not ungenerous now," said Ned. 
 " I am here to deal in commonplaces — to be the every- 
 day friend and diner-out, if you will allow me." 
 
 She glanced back into the room that they had 
 quitted. Hugh Aynard was all legs and wings still ; 
 his head was jerking backwards and forwards, and his 
 fingers were still travelling over the keys with mar- 
 vellous rapidity, occasionally coming down upon a 
 wrong note, which jarred upon the ears of the finer 
 musician, though he was not attending to the 
 symphony ; whilst Doctor Day, a grave, thoughtful, 
 and handsome man, stood a sentinel as statuesque as 
 ever. There were no listeners to them, nothing to
 
 THE DINNER AT MAKKHAM'S HOTEL. 121 
 
 disturb them save the rippling of the moonlit water 
 upon the beach below. She turned suddenly upon him 
 with a new eagerness, almost a new anxiety, in her 
 face. 
 
 " ]\Ir. Delancy," she said^ in a low, clear tone of 
 voice, " I have a serious question to ask you."
 
 122 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON THE BALCONY. 
 
 " Mr. Delancy, I have a serious question to ask you." 
 
 Edmund Delancy was surprised by this sudden 
 change of manner in the lady who lingered with him 
 on the balcony, and still more surprised by the earnest, 
 almost beseeching, looks which were upraised towards 
 him. He glanced towards the drawing-room, as though 
 he were a co-conspirator against those within, and feared 
 detection from them, or as though they were conspira- 
 tors against the peace of Clara Burlinson, and he might 
 be asked to foil their plans for her sake. 
 
 " A serious question, Lady Burlinson ?" he said ; 
 " well, I am prepared for it." 
 
 " Tell me, then, the motive which has brought you 
 here to-night?" 
 
 " I have no motive," he replied. 
 
 "Ah, you have," she asserted. '*It is something 
 more than curiosity that has led you to face me, unless
 
 ox THE BALCONY. 123 
 
 it is something more than a common change in you that 
 has ensued since you and I were— friends." 
 
 " I have come here at the pressing request of your 
 brother." 
 
 " With no motive — no hidden motive ?" she asked 
 again. 
 
 " No motive whatever," replied Ned. ^' With what 
 sinister design should I come into your presence, Lady 
 Burlinson ?" 
 
 "I cannot understand your coming," she said, still 
 doubtfully ; " you were always so proud a man. You 
 should know — your own heart might have told you — 
 that we could not meet without pain." 
 
 " Pardon me, I have felt no pain to-night at meet- 
 ing you. The past — you force me by your covert re- 
 proach to speak of it — is so completely dead between 
 us." 
 
 " You are a strong man ; but you might have thought 
 of me, — a weak woman," 
 
 Delancy frowned. He could not understand this 
 appeal, or why she should fearlessly face him thus with 
 allusions to a past which they had both outlived, in 
 which he had suffered, and she — his lip quivered con- 
 temptuously at the thought — had bettered her position. 
 Was this a weak woman who could so boldly face him 
 with the bygones, and remind him of the old position 
 that they had occupied towards each other ? He could 
 almost fancy that she was part of the mystery which
 
 124 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 seemed to linger here — the chief danger, perhaps, 
 against which he had been warned that morning. 
 
 "May I ask your pardon again," he said, coldly, 
 " but it was not as a weak woman that I have regarded 
 you. On the contrary, as one very strong-minded, and 
 far better calculated to repress any painful feeling that 
 might arise at our meeting than I, who have had less 
 training in conventionalisms. But I see no cause for 
 pain — it would be an exaggeration of sentiment to talk 
 of pain engendered by such a meeting as this." 
 
 " I am an exaggeration in myself," she said, as she 
 clasped the balcony with her hands, and looked down at 
 the sea, " and am watching for things out of the common 
 way to cross me. Possibly, in this dull place, my nerves 
 are giving way again ; I was never very strong." 
 
 " Shall we hear the last of Mr. Aynard's symphony ?'> 
 asked Ned ; "he will not thank us for our courtesy in 
 escaping from his composition." 
 
 " In one moment," she answered. " You — you like 
 my brother ?" 
 
 " Four years since I thought that there was not a 
 better fellow in the world." 
 
 " He is a good fellow," she said, heartily, " in many 
 things ; he means well always. But he is a worldly 
 man, and he can do no good by seeking to revive that 
 friendship which once existed between you two. You 
 will not come again ?" 
 
 "If you wish it, certainly not," answered Delancy,
 
 ON THE BALCONY. 125 
 
 thinking that this was the second time that he had been 
 told in Ilpham not to call — once by the Judges, now by 
 this woman. What very disagreeable company he 
 must be considered now, he thought. 
 
 " I wish it, then," she said, fearlessly looking into his 
 face. " George is a man of extravagant tastes, he is 
 somewhat thoughtless, and " 
 
 "And I am somewhat poor. Still, George Day does 
 not expect a dinner-party from me in return, and will 
 not begrudge me his hospitality in consequence. If he 
 has a motive — a hidden motive — for my presence here 
 to-night, I can only see a desire in him to constitute me 
 Mr. Aynard's friend." 
 
 " And you do not admire Mr. Ajuard ?" 
 
 " Dare I confess as much to one who is likely to be 
 Mr. Aynard's wife ?" 
 
 " You have been told that ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And believe it ?" 
 
 *' I have no reason to believe the contrary'." 
 
 *' Mr. Aynard has not made me an offer of his hand, 
 therefore there is a reason to think that the story of an 
 engagement between us is premature," she said, calmly. 
 " My brother has told you too much !" 
 
 " Your brother has not told me that there was an 
 engagement between you." 
 
 " But he has led you to believe that there might be," 
 she added. " Well, that was kind of him."
 
 126 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 "Why kind?" 
 
 " It warned you that there was a line drawn where 
 to stop, when you became the friend again of George 
 Day and his sister." 
 
 Truly this was a bold woman. She would bring him 
 back to the past by her suggestions ; she was not afraid 
 to linger on the dangerous ground ; she seemed to wish 
 to extract a confession from him concernino^ it before 
 they passed back through the curtains of the drawing- 
 room. Why should he evade the debatable land to 
 which her manner pointed? He could talk of it as 
 calmly as she, and she must not think him a coward 
 who shrank from the topic. 
 
 "I required no warning," said Delancy. "Had 
 I not known where to stop I should not have been here 
 to-night ; but, feeling that we could afford to laugh at 
 any nonsense in the past, I came." 
 
 " Afford to laugh. I thought that you would as 
 soon jest at your dead father as at your dead love?" 
 
 " Ha ! you heard me say that to your brother ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I was comino^ back into the dinino^-room for 
 an instant when the words escaped you, and 1 — I did 
 not enter then. The dead love, Mr. Delancy, had not 
 the courage." 
 
 Ned advanced a step nearer to Lady Burlinson, and 
 from the intense earnestness of his look she could 
 but turn away. It was so full of honesty and sadness 
 then.
 
 ON THE BALCONY. 127 
 
 "Lady Burlinson/' he said, very firmly, "will you 
 tell me what all this means ? I detect — or I dream of 
 — a reproach in what you say, and I know of nothing 
 in the past or present that stands to my discredit. You 
 tell me that I should have spared you, a weak woman ; 
 but you do not spare me, and you hover with a strange 
 persistency over that dead love." 
 
 " Like a vulture." 
 
 " Like a woman who would have me believe that she 
 looks back sorrowfully at all that killed it." 
 
 " Sir, you are incomprehensible. Why should I look 
 back sorrowfully ? — what should lead your vanity to 
 suppose that I, another man's widow, am repining at all 
 which parted us ?" 
 
 " My vanity has not led me to so foolish a suppo- 
 sition. I ask you simply to explain why your manner, 
 on this occasion, is so bewildering to me, and so out of 
 character with your past actions." 
 
 She glanced into the room again. Hugh Aynard 
 was still at work laboriously, with her brother for a 
 listener. They two on the balcony were stepping back 
 to another world, and there were no unfriendly hands 
 to check them. 
 
 " Mr. Delancy," she said, " you — you have promised 
 not to come here — not to meet me again of your own 
 free will, and I can speak out more boldly. You are 
 a generous man, and will not misinterpret my words, I 
 am sure."
 
 128 ANKE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " I will not," he replied. 
 
 " I would speak of that past," she said, hurriedly, 
 " for I swore solemnly long ago, and I swore again to 
 him last night, that 1 would find the courage to speak 
 of it, whenever you and I were brought together. Now, 
 Mr. Delancy, what severed our engagement ?" 
 
 " Does it matter now what severed it ?" said Ned. 
 
 *' I have my own good name to clear — it matters to 
 me." 
 
 " The ruin of our house, then," said Ned, "I see no 
 other reason that set us apart. I was a very poor man 
 after our downfall, and I felt bound to release you from 
 a foolish eno^acrement which had been made between 
 us. You accepted that release very willingly, and there 
 was an end for ever to the story." 
 
 *' Did I write ?" 
 
 " Your brother did, in your name. You were ill." 
 
 " I was very ill — I might have died, and you no wiser. 
 I did not understand all that had been explained 
 to me — all that I had consented to — for days after- 
 wards. I did not know of your family's ruin, only 
 that you, in an incoherent letter, had expressed a 
 wish to give me up, but had not sought me out yom-- 
 self in that house in Cumberland, where I was staying 
 then." 
 
 " I was compelled to remain in London, struggling 
 for the bits of the wreck, for my mother's sake." 
 " But when we returned?"
 
 ON THE BALCONY. 129 
 
 " I called twice in Harley Street — ' Not at home,' " 
 said Xed, concisely. 
 
 *• You let a servant's word influence your whole after- 
 hfe. You had more faith in a hired domestic than in 
 me?" 
 
 " Your brother had already written to me your 
 answer, Lady Burlinson, and in that brother I had 
 always believed. Do you imply that I should have 
 distrusted him in this ?" 
 
 " No. But I imply that you should have found me 
 out for yourself — that you, a man, should not have left 
 a stone unturned to meet the woman once more whom 
 you had professed to love. I knew nothing of your 
 worldly misfortunes for weeks afterwards — I could find 
 in your letter nothing but a wish to sever our engage- 
 ment ; and when, too late, I saw the truth in it, and 
 understood it more completely, you and your mother 
 had quitted London, leaving no clue to your new 
 home." 
 
 " And had the clue been found — what then ?" asked 
 Ned. 
 
 *' Oh, I might have condescended to explain," she 
 answered, scornfully. " I might have told you, or 
 written to you, that I had mistaken the motive which 
 had led you to resign me ; that, had I thought for 
 an instant that it was only a difference in worldly 
 goods that had set us apart, I would have w^aited for 
 you, felt myself still bound to you, until the better dayj^ 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 which would have brought about our marriage. There, 
 Mr. Delancy, do not misjudge the motives which have 
 influenced me to tell you this. I have found the nerve 
 to defend my past actions, and to keep a promise to 
 myself Now, think better of me — and have done with 
 me." 
 
 Delancy was bewildered at this outburst of con- 
 fidence. This was like the girl whom he had known 
 four years ago, and whose fault it was not that they 
 were separated after all — the girl whom he had re- 
 garded too long as one anxious to be rid of him, to 
 look upon immediately as one who could have acted in 
 another fashion. He saw what a little had separated 
 them, after all — his pride and hers — and how a slight 
 forbearance, a slight explanation, might have changed 
 all this ; but he did not feel his love come back with 
 the better light in which she stood. After all, she 
 had married the baronet very speedily, whilst he was 
 thinking of her, and unable to tear her from his 
 heart, and there was more than a possibility of her 
 engagement to Hugh Aynard. There was no bringing 
 the past back, or living it over again ; he was Mr. 
 Delancy, the organist, and she was a lady of fashion 
 and title. 
 
 " I am gi-ateful for this explanation," he murmured ; 
 '^ for I had thought that my fallen fortunes had parted 
 us. Not that even then. Lady Burlinson, I had any 
 cause of complaint ; I was bound to offer you a release,
 
 ON THE BALCONY. 131 
 
 and you were bound by all the laws of society to accept 
 it. I have nursed no wrong for four years, I assure 
 
 you." 
 
 " You have not thought of me fairly, for all that," 
 she answered ; " and I thought that I would have pre- 
 ferred not to have met, and thus have escaped this ex- 
 planation. Still, I am not sorry that I have played the 
 part of a strong-minded woman — which you have 
 already thought me to-night," she added, with a bitter- 
 ness that she could not repress — " and done myself 
 justice in your eyes. Having done that, I hope, 
 Edmund Delancy, that we shall never meet again." 
 
 She spoke very proudly now, as though she wished 
 that no love-dream should rise again to the mind of 
 the man to whom she had humbled herself to explain. 
 If he did not understand her yet — if he regarded her 
 curiously, and were likely in any way to put a false 
 construction on that explanation — let him be sure of 
 this, at least, that there was no living back the past 
 with her. 
 
 " It is better that we should not meet," he said. " It 
 would have been better if we had never met. Heaven 
 knows !" 
 
 "That was your thought when you came here to- 
 night, and yet you came," she said ; " and there was no 
 motive — you have owned that — in your visit ?" 
 
 " My motive was to prove that I bore no malice in 
 my heart," he said, " and that I could meet you as a
 
 132 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 friend. Let me be more candid with you, Lady Bur- 
 linson, and say that I came here to prove that I was 
 heart-free, and could face you without flinching." 
 
 " And yet, more than once to-night you have spoken 
 as if you bore enmity towards me." 
 
 "I spoke hastily. Upon my honour, I have not 
 sought intentionally to wound your feelings by any 
 reference to the past." 
 
 '• I can beheve you ; you were always truthful." 
 
 " Clara, is not that tete-a-tete approaching a termina- 
 tion ?" asked Doctor Day from within, and the loiterers 
 on the balcony became aware at last that the music was 
 over, and their absence remarked. 
 
 " I was not aware that Mr. Aynard's symphony was 
 ended," she said ; and then, with a strange, wistful look 
 at her companion — a look that haunted him for long 
 afterwards, and that he saw more clearly when hours 
 had passed, and she oppressed his memory more — she 
 passed into the room, and he held the lace curtains 
 high above her head, to allow of her free ingress. 
 
 When he followed her into the light, he saw how 
 pale she had turned for the first time — an evidence of 
 the struggle that it had been to sink her pride so low 
 as to explain to him — and he felt sorry that he had not 
 stayed away, and spared her the pain of the confession. 
 And yet the instant afterwards he felt glad that he 
 could look back upon her as a woman who had not 
 readily resigned him — who was anxious that he should
 
 ox THE BALCONY. 133 
 
 learn that it was his fault as much as hers that had led 
 them on their separate paths. 
 
 " I am endeavouring to persuade Mr. Aynard to join 
 us in a rubber at whist before breaking up our little 
 party, Clara, but he is terribly obdurate." 
 
 Lady Burlinson looked at Mr. Aynard, who was 
 standing with his back to the piano, his hands in his 
 pockets, and his gloomy gaze directed to the carpet — a 
 man ver}' naturally put out by the want of attention 
 that had been paid to his symphony, and the apparent 
 excess of attention that Ned Delancy had paid to the 
 hostess. 
 
 " It is too late for whist," Aynard said, slowly ; " I 
 am anxious to catch the tide into the Backwater." 
 
 " You do not return to Thirby Cross to-night ?" 
 
 " No ; my boat is below. I am in a studious mood, 
 Lady Burlinson ; I have a great deal to brood upon 
 when I get back." 
 
 " You must not imagine that we neglected you be- 
 cause we were tempted to admire the sea to-night," 
 said Ned, courteously. " The music seems to run on 
 very well, but wants more fire, perhaps." 
 
 " Perhaps it does," said Mr. Aynard, coldly. 
 
 " And as Mr. Delancy accepted my sister's invita- 
 tion out there, he is not to blame for obeying a lady's 
 request," said Doctor Day. 
 
 "Who says that he is to blame?" asked Aynard, 
 " I have not asked for an explanation. I have no right.
 
 134 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 I dare say that I have wearied you all to death with my 
 commonplaces. I should have known better. Good 
 evening, Lady Burlinson." 
 
 " You are really going then ?" 
 
 " If you please. Before you leave Ilpham, I hope to 
 have the pleasure of seeing you for a few minutes on a 
 matter of importance." 
 
 She seemed to read a meaning in his speech, for she 
 looked down, and betrayed a little embarrassment 
 before she answered him. 
 
 " I shall be at home with George every afternoon 
 this week." 
 
 *' Thank you," he said. 
 
 He shook hands with her and her brother, then he 
 hesitated as he approached Delancy. 
 
 " You are not going yet ?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes, I am," Ned replied. 
 
 "Can I drop you at the jetty, or are you nervous 
 about being on the water after dark ?" 
 
 " I am not a particularly nervous subject," said Ned, 
 without reflection. " I shall be very happy to join 
 you as far as Prospect Terrace, which the jetty faces 
 I think." 
 
 " I will ask you to make haste, then, as I have a 
 lono- row before me." 
 
 Adieux were exchanged between hostess and visitors, 
 and then George Day went down-stairs as far as the 
 broad hall, to see the last of his guests. At the foot of
 
 ON THE BALCONY. 135 
 
 the stairs the hall went right and left, the right leading 
 to the main road, the left towards the sea-shore. 
 " Good-night, Day,'* said Mr. Aynard. 
 "I will see you adventurous souls off," he said, 
 taking a sealskin cap from the hat-tree in the hall ; 
 and then the three men went down a flight of steps to 
 the narrow strip of sand which the tide had left them, 
 and where Hugh Aynard's boat, and a man in charge 
 with a lantern, waited for them. Aynard went a little 
 way in advance. When he was standing in the boat 
 smoking a cigar, and taking off a light cloak that he 
 had put on in the hall a moment since, the physician 
 touched Delancy's arm. 
 
 " I would not go with him, Ned," said he, in a low 
 tone. " I doubt if you save time by making for the 
 jetty this way." 
 
 " But I have promised to go." 
 " He is in a huiTy to reach the Backwater ; he will 
 readily excuse you." 
 
 *'Is there anything to be alarmed at in going?" 
 asked our hero. 
 
 " Oh no. But still you are giving trouble to Mr. 
 Aynard to land you at the jetty, and if he miss the 
 tide by a few minutes he may be run aground for 
 hours." 
 
 " Well, I will give him the chance of backing out of 
 his invitation. Mr. Aynard," said Delancy, " I fear 
 that I shall be giving you unnecessary trouble to land
 
 136 AXNE JUDGE, SPIXSTER. 
 
 me at the jetty. I will, if you please, postpone the 
 pleasure of a row with you until another occasion." 
 
 " Jump in," answered Aynard. " I shall not drown 
 you, man." 
 
 " No, that would be scarcely worth while, even if I 
 gave you the chance," said Ned, stepping into the boat 
 " Good-night, Day." 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 George Day lingered at the water's edge even after 
 the boat was pushed off from the shore ; he watched 
 Ned Delancy settle down in the stern, and Aynard ply 
 his sculls with a good will. The sound of their voices 
 reached him as he stood there. 
 
 " Shall I take an oar ?" asked Ned. 
 
 " No, thank you, we are getting on very well. Sit 
 as still as you can, please, for this is a light boat. 
 Good-night, George," Aynard called across the water, 
 and Day echoed his good-night again, and still stood 
 watching the boat, after glancing up once towards the 
 windows of the hotel to see if his sister were watching 
 also from the balcony, where the three lighted windows 
 were, but no sign of human life thereat. 
 
 " It's all right, I have no doubt," he muttered, as if 
 to reassure himself as he walked back slowly towards 
 the hotel ; " but I wish that Ned Delancy had walked 
 home to Prospect Terrace.
 
 137 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 T E M P T A T I O X. 
 
 The two men who had taken the water opposite Mark- 
 ham's Hotel were quickly forgotten by George Day 
 when he re-entered the drawing-room. For half-sitting, 
 half-crouching on the carpet, with her arms spread 
 across the couch, and her face buried in them, was the 
 sister he had left so self-possessed. He had heard 
 her sobs as he re-ascended the stairs, and he had 
 hastened to close the door and shut himself in along 
 with her before the servants should have subject-matter 
 for gossip concerning- her or him. 
 
 He advanced towards her hastily — 
 
 " Mv dear Clara," he said, bending over her, and 
 attempting with great gentleness to raise her, " is not 
 this weakness and folly ? What does it all mean ?" 
 
 " Nothing," she murmured. '* Let me be awhile ; I 
 shall be better in a minute." 
 
 Then she continued to sob on, and George Day sat 
 beside her with her hand in his, and a thoughtful, even
 
 138 AJTNE JUDGE, SPIXSTER. 
 
 a miserable expression on his countenance. He at- 
 tempted to reason with her more than once, but was 
 checked by the same imploring words and promise : 
 
 " Let me be ; I shall soon be better, George." 
 
 He gave up all efforts to console her at last, and 
 waited as a father might wait for the first passionate 
 outburst of his child to subside ; and presently the sobs 
 ceased, and she turned her face round and looked 
 at him, a woman very weary and afflicted. . 
 
 " Why did you bring him here to-night ? What 
 was the use of facing us after four years' separation, 
 paining both him and me so terribly ?" 
 
 " Why should you have feared to meet him ?" 
 
 " I had my word to keep, and at all hazards I kept 
 it. He thinks the better of me, George, for that. I 
 hope that he does — I am sure he does." 
 
 " Such an explanation was scarcely worth while at 
 this late hour," said Day, " and I showed my con- 
 fidence in you and him in allowing you to make it. 
 There, Clara, I made amends for what you may call 
 my worldliness in the past by leaving you free to give 
 up Aynard for him, if you wished. And yet to love 
 him, and to leave Aynard, is the ruin of both of us." 
 
 " George, I forgot you — I have forgotten every- 
 thing but myself to-night. I almost asked him to 
 marry me in my humiliation, and he was proud and 
 hard to me. There is not a scrap of the old love 
 left in his heart."
 
 TEMPTATION. 139 
 
 " He was a boy when he loved you first. He was 
 but one-and-twenty when you and he parted for good." 
 
 " When you parted us." 
 
 " When I reasoned with you, after that letter of renuFi- 
 ciation, which it was only honourable of him to write." 
 
 " But which you never explained — which you left 
 me in my illness, and struggling with my pride, to mis- 
 interpret." 
 
 " Is not the past forgotten and forgiven between 
 us ?" he said, gloomily. " Why reproach me with it 
 again ? I acted for the best — for your own welfare, as 
 I have always done. He was my best friend, young 
 as he was. I feel towards him as I have never felt 
 towards another man. I feel my better and more 
 generous self of four years since come back at the 
 sight of him, to interfere with all the scheming which 
 necessity has forced upon us, and from which there 
 is no escaping now." 
 
 *' Oh, you cannot understand how I have loved that 
 man. He was always so true and honourable and 
 brave, so different in his way to all the rest, and I 
 have cast a blight upon his life." 
 
 " I think not." 
 
 " He has chanired — he is severe and harsh in his 
 thoughts — he is unsettled still." 
 
 " There you are wrong, Clara," he said. " Let us 
 dismiss this subject for good, and consider what is to 
 be done next."
 
 140 
 
 " Ay, what next I" was the sorrowful echo. " Must 
 I maiTy another man with the thought of this one in 
 my heart ? And will' this man be like the first, un- 
 sympathizing, stem, and cruel : offering me no chance 
 to love him, and holding me for ever at arm's length?" 
 
 "I thought that your marriage with Sir AVilliam 
 Burlinson had driven the girl's folly from your heart 
 long ago. But then you are never of one mind long." 
 
 '• I did my duty as a wife, and I lived down com- 
 pletely my romance whilst my husband lived." 
 
 " Why seek to revive it after four years' separation ?" 
 
 " We are both free !" she answered. 
 
 "Are you quite free?" he asked. *' Have you not 
 pitied Hugh Aynard too much : shown that interest in 
 him which only a woman shows for a purpose — in a 
 word, encouraged him to think of you ?" 
 
 •• Poor Hugh — perhaps I have." 
 
 " Clara," said her brother, pressing the hand that he 
 still held in his own, " I did ask Ned Delancy here for 
 a purpose — to show you what folly it was to seek to 
 revive an old passion in him. I saw how completely 
 he had set you from him when I called upon him last 
 Saturday night, and I thought that it was better that 
 you should see the same truth for yourself." 
 
 " I have seen it — I am resigned. He does not think 
 of me as the heartless girl who took him too readily at 
 his word, and I am not sorry now that he came. But 
 there was another reason for bringing him here to-
 
 TEMPTATIOX. 141 
 
 night — I have guessed it within the last half-hour, 
 George." 
 
 " Indeed." • 
 
 " A poor, paltT}- reason, unworthy of you. To make 
 Hugh Aynard jealous — to spur him on to an offer which 
 I could have accepted yesterday, from which I seem to 
 recoil with horror to-day." 
 
 " You are unreasonably romantic," said Day ; *' I 
 have done my best for you, and still you grumble at 
 me and at the chances which I place in your wav. You 
 need not marr}- him ; I can meet my ruin with all the 
 philosophy of the ancients." 
 
 " No, no, George ; I will save you if I can. It is a 
 good match ; I have no other hopes before me. Shall 
 I tell you a little secret of my own ?" 
 
 " I thought that we had no secrets from each other ?'* 
 
 " No great secrets ; this is of the smallest. Mr. 
 Delancy was told not to come here to-night." 
 
 ^ Who told him ?" said George Day, with a start. 
 
 "I did. I thought that if he did not love me, he 
 would stop away, and then my course would be \evy 
 straight ahead of me. I thought, too, that there might 
 be danger in his coming, how or whence I knew not, 
 and that his absence would save me that explanation 
 which I had vowed to give him whenever the opportu- 
 nity presented itself." 
 
 " Hoping also that he would come to prove his 
 anxiety to see you — to give you hope to live for him.
 
 142 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 and set me aside — the worthless, scheming brother that 
 I am !" 
 
 '' Oh, I don't know what I hoped. It does not matter 
 now." 
 
 " How did you communicate with him ?" 
 
 " Anne Judge wrote the letter at my dictation, and 
 her father introduced it into the house when he called 
 there this morning." 
 
 " It was an imprudent step. I should have been con- 
 sulted in the matter. You know," he said, " that I am 
 doing everything for your good, caring not a great deal 
 for myself. I could have told you that the obstinate 
 nature of that man was sure to lead him here, after 
 receiving such a warning as you had given him. You 
 should have begged him to come with all your heart, 
 and he would have stayed away." 
 
 " Miss Judge, my lady," said the servant, opening 
 the door suddenly. 
 
 Clara rose from her suppliant position, and Doctor 
 Day stared at the man with surprise for a moment, and 
 then looked at his watch. 
 
 " Eleven o'clock," he said ; " that is a late hour for 
 a visit, surely." 
 
 " I told her yesterday that she might bring her work 
 home to-night, if she preferred it, or was in need of 
 money. Show her in." 
 
 The servant departed, and George Day looked irre- 
 solutely towards his sister.
 
 TEMPTATIOX. 143 
 
 *' Have you spoken to Anne Judge about the post 
 which you wish her to occupy ?" 
 
 " I have hinted, that is all." ' 
 
 " I wish that you would do so," he said. " If you 
 have taken a fancy to the girl, it would be a rise in 
 life for her. She appears above her position alto- 
 gether." 
 
 He went out of the room after this observation, 
 meeting Anne Judge on the landing, and smiling at 
 her as he passed and bowed to her. Rather a heavy 
 sigh escaped him as Anne Judge went into the draw- 
 ing-room ; and when the door was closed upon her he 
 came to a dead stop, and stood pondering deeply, with 
 one hand to his broad forehead. 
 
 " I don't think that I am a bad man," he muttered 
 to himself, as though anxious to divest himself of that 
 impression before he moved another step ; *' not wholly 
 a bad man, or I should not be haunted like this, and 
 by so many spectres. Even this girl, now, if I could 
 advance her in any way that lies in my power, I 
 should be glad, intensely glad. Is there one man in 
 a thousand who would take her into his consideration, 
 now ?" 
 
 He walked away more satisfied with himself after 
 this little soliloquy on the landing. Was he a man 
 who consoled himself for past offences by small efforts 
 at reparation ? who repented, perhaps, after the tempta- 
 tion was over, and he had succumbed to it? — a man
 
 1-li ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 who believed in his head, if not in his heart, that he 
 was acting for the best ? 
 
 He went round by a back way to the dining-room, 
 where his valet lingered — his own particular valet, 
 whom he had brought from Harley Street. Day was a 
 man who attended to minutiae, and had well prepared 
 his ground, there was but little doubt. 
 
 " Roberts, you were in the dining-room when Mr. 
 Delancy gave his opinion on Mr. Aynard, L think ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 ''What did he say?" 
 
 " That Mr. Aynard was sane enough, and disagree- 
 able enough." 
 
 '' Never mind about the disagreeable. Make a note 
 of Mr. Delancy's remarks. We cannot have too many 
 witnesses, direct and indirect, to thwart any abominable 
 conspiracy that may be afoot to the prejudice of my 
 dear friend." 
 
 And with this lofty remark, Doctor Day went the 
 short cut to the drawing-room, this time pausing on the 
 threshold with the door in his hand, and breaking in 
 upon the conversation of Anne Judge and his sister. 
 
 " Good-night, Clara. I am going to my room now." 
 
 " Good-night, George." 
 
 " Good-night, Miss Judge," he even condescended 
 to remark. Then he went up-stairs to his own room, 
 double-locked himself in for the night, and commenced 
 writing busily.
 
 TEMPTATION. 145 
 
 Meanwhile Lady Burlinson and Anne Judge con- 
 tinued their dialogue. We know its purport, and we 
 can guess what persuasions have preceded it, after the 
 lace had been paid for and the money carefully put 
 away in Anne's pocket. 
 
 " Then you will not promise, Anne ?" 
 " I will think of it, thank you. But I have my father 
 and my aunt to consult. I can see that I should be 
 happy with you. Lady Burlinson, very happy ; but I 
 am not quite certain that Aunt Judge would care to 
 let me go." 
 
 " Has she a right to influence you to your disadvan- 
 tage ?" 
 
 " I — I cannot say." 
 
 " I am sure that you are not happy with her, Anne," 
 said the temptress ; " that your natures are very dis- 
 similar, and that she depresses yours, and keeps it in 
 shadow. I have seen this myself, and pitied you the 
 companionship of so cold and grim a woman." 
 
 "Don't set me against her, please," said Anne, 
 almost imploringly ; " I try so hard to resist such 
 thoughts as you are putting before me — try to believe 
 that I am understood and loved by Aunt Mar}% and 
 that it is only her way which clashes with mine and 
 makes me miserable at times. Oh, madam, she is a 
 woman who has known much suffering, and grown 
 hard in bearing up against it. If she loved me ten 
 times less I could be faithful to her through it all." 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 AX^'E JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 '' But if she loves you not at all," continued she — " if 
 your absence from her would be considered as a relief, 
 if your stay with me as a companion — and I am com- 
 panionless, and almost alone — would enable you to save 
 money, to benefit yourself, and make everybody more 
 content ?" 
 
 " I will think of it, lady ; I will speak to aunt about 
 it. Perhaps," Anne added, with a yevy sad, disconso- 
 late expression, " she would be glad to get rid of me, 
 and have the house all to herself again, as it was before 
 I came from Wolchester. I do not suppose that I am 
 any company for her." 
 
 " And if I marry again, Anne — and that is possible, 
 I believe — you shall have the choice of remaining with 
 me, or of retiring on a pension which I will allow you. 
 For I have taken a fancy to yom- face, and I would 
 save you from that miserable lace-making, and that 
 wretched hovel wherein you work." 
 
 " It is a strange fancy." 
 
 " No, it is not," replied Lady Burlinson, " for I am 
 in need of a friend." 
 
 " I should be a ver}* humble one. An ungrateful 
 one, too, madam, for, at my father's summons, I must 
 leave all and go to him." 
 
 " I appreciate that intention — it is that which shows 
 me what a loving heart you have — what a faithful ser- 
 vant and friend you would be whilst you remained 
 with me."
 
 TEMPTATIOX. 147 
 
 " I will think of it," said Anne Judge again : then 
 she went away, thinking of it already, and wondering 
 if it would ever come true. She had been so full of 
 that thought, that she had forgotten to inquire if Mr. 
 Delancy had come to dinner after their little conspiracy 
 to thwart him. She had been interested in Lady Bur- 
 linson's anxiety to keep Mr. Delancy away from her, 
 and had, with a girl's acuteness, guessed at a great deal 
 of the truth, weaving a romance around it, after a girl's 
 fancy. But she had forgotten all about that story for 
 awhile in the prospect before her which Lady Burlinson 
 had indicated. She fancied that it was possible that 
 such a change of life as had been sketched out for her 
 would please all parties concerned, although it was hard 
 to think that Aunt Judo^e would be glad to see the 
 last of her. 
 
 Lady Burlinson forgot Anne Judge, and thought 
 of Delancy, after the girl had gone. There had been 
 much to disturb her that night, and the tempest within 
 had not subsided. She was glad to escape to her room 
 and feel that she could quietly think there, without a 
 chance of intrusion — that the past could steal back, and 
 the brother aloof from it with all that worldly' reason- 
 ing which had so often influenced her. She was not 
 wholly unworldly, for all her remorse, and she shrank 
 from poverty, and loved position passing well — say a 
 warm-hearted but weak-headed woman, full of generous 
 impulses, as we have already seen, but not void of
 
 148 AXXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 prudence by a long way. It is doubtful if sbe would 
 have even married Ned Delancy until he had proved 
 to her that his strange position as an organist of a 
 church in an out-of-the-way country town was but a 
 step upwards towards a better sphere, although she 
 thouo^ht that nig-ht that she could have died for him. 
 Woraan-hke, it was the unattainable for which she 
 pined. 
 
 She opened her casement, and looked out to sea 
 again. All was calm and still, and the scene reminded 
 her of the little while ago when Ned Delancy^s thought- 
 ful o^aze was travellino^ seaward with her. What a 
 night for fostering romantic thoughts, and going back 
 the four dismal years of her life, wherein there had 
 been no happiness, and much quarrelling with a husband 
 who had broken his neck in good time, for only a week 
 before his death they had spoken of a separation by 
 mutual consent. 
 
 It was late when she closed the casement. St Bride's 
 church striking one quite startled her. 
 
 " I wonder what is to become of me ?" she said, and 
 she went to sleep, wondering about her future, and 
 what a pity it was that Ned Delancy was not rich, and 
 ready to love her as of old. She bad begun to dream 
 of him as the rich young heir of four years since^ whom 
 society petted, and for whom eligible daughters and 
 match-making mothers were scheming at the time that
 
 TEMPTATION. 149 
 
 she was introduced to him at her brother's house, and 
 he was dazzled by her beauty. She was in the full flush 
 of this dream when there came a heavy knocking at 
 the hotel door below, which woke her up with her heart 
 beating. 
 
 The knocking, which was repeated three or four times 
 before any one condescended to answer, reminded Clara 
 of a scene in "Macbeth" that she had witnessed at the 
 theatre, when a child, and had been frightened at ; the 
 scene of Duncan's murder, when there is much knock- 
 ing at the outer gates. Her nerves were unstrung that 
 night, and she rose hurriedly, put on her dressing-gown, 
 opened the door, and listened ; and, whilst listening, 
 she saw her brother, full dressed, as he had been hours 
 ago, come out of his room on the opposite side, light 
 in hand, and peer down the well-staircase. 
 
 " George, dear, what is it?" she called to him. 
 
 ** I don't know," he said, looking towards her for a 
 moment; *'some noisy rascal coming home late, I 
 imagine. The servant is going to the door now." 
 
 The shuffling feet of a domestic were heard descend 
 ing the stairs, and a suppressed voice anathematizing 
 the hands that had waked the whole house that night. 
 The flapping of the servant's slippers on each stair 
 seemed as if it would never cease to those two listeners, 
 who were both strangely nervous, as if expectant of 
 news that would concern themselves. 
 
 '• Who's there ?" was asked at last.
 
 150 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " If you please, I'm Mrs. Simmonds of Prospect Ter- 
 race. I could not rest any longer at home because my 
 lodger, who dined here to-day, said he was sure not 
 to be out later than eleven, and so would not take the 
 key with him ; and now it's close on two. Oh, dear, 
 it's striking now !" 
 
 " Who are you asking about ?" growled the servant 
 through the keyhole. 
 
 " Mr. Delancy, sir." 
 
 "Oh, he has been gone hours ago, ma'am." 
 
 " Not home yet," gasped forth Lady Burlinson. And 
 she and her brother looked at each other with dismay 
 across the landing-place.
 
 151 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MAEY JUDGE HAS A LONG NIGHT's WORK. 
 
 Anne Judge found her Aunt Mary hard at work on 
 her return to the Backwater. Miss Judge was a woman 
 under whose feet no grass grew — a woman of business 
 and energy, who studied not herself or her health when 
 there was money to be earned. It had struck eleven 
 when Anne Judge returned home, but Aunt Mary had 
 set up a fresh candle, and recomposed herself for work. 
 Anne found her sitting near the table with a pillow on 
 her lap, plying her bobbins diligently and hatching her 
 work with great attention. 
 
 A woman with a sour expression of countenance 
 was Aunt Judge, as we have already intimated — a 
 woman who looked sourer as the hours grew late, as 
 though wearied with that labour which she would not 
 put aside ; a grave-faced woman, who turned her eyes 
 towards the door as Anne entered, but whose fingers 
 ceased not that ever restless, ever intricate work,
 
 J 52 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 lest a minute should be wasted and a something lost 
 thereby. 
 
 Looking at Anne Judge for an instant, one could 
 almost imagine that she was playing a noiseless kind of 
 dirge on a new-fashioned instrument ; but to watch her 
 for awhile was to fancy that she was a woman under a 
 vow to cease not for her life's sake — a woman doing 
 penance rather than making pillow-lace. 
 
 " Have you got the money ?*' she asked with eager- 
 ness, as Anne closed the door, which she had opened 
 for herself, Aunt Judge having left it on the latch, not 
 having time to spare to lock up after her niece's exit. 
 
 "Yes, aunt." 
 
 " Put it in that box upon the mantelpiece," she said, 
 looking down upon her lace again ; " and then make 
 haste with your supper, and get your work, unless," 
 she added, " you feel very tired." 
 
 " Not very, aunt." 
 
 "If we have the work to do, we must do it," she 
 explained, *♦ or I must do it, for it is not much business 
 of yours. I think that you had better go to bed, after 
 all ; your father would think that I was working you to 
 death if he could see us at this hour." 
 
 " I would rather sit up a little while. I— I have 
 something to tell you, aunt" 
 
 Aunt Judge glanced almost suspiciously towards her 
 niece. She was a woman of many suspicions, who had 
 but little faith in human nature, having been, unfortu-
 
 153 
 
 nately, necessitated to see human nature at its worst, 
 and in its weakest stage, for the greater part of five 
 and thirty years. Hence the gravity and the sourness 
 of her looks ; for re^rding things sordid, even though 
 the looker-on be immeasurably above "such things," 
 adds no refinement or softness to the features, but, on 
 the contrary, hardens and sharpens them. 
 
 Anne crossed to the fireplace, dropped their earnings 
 in a box upon the mantelpiece, and then sat down to 
 her supper, pushing away her plate very speedily, as 
 though her heart was too full for her to eat much. 
 
 " Have you had anything at the hotel ?" asked her 
 aunt, whom nothing seemed to escape, despite her 
 incessant application to work. 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 "Ah, they give you plenty of fine words there 
 instead," she said, satirically. " Lady Burlinson seems 
 to be a woman fond of fine words and — fine effiects." 
 
 " Dont you like her, aunt?" 
 
 " Not much." 
 
 " They all speak so well of her about here," said 
 Anne, with a significant sweep of her arm that was 
 intended to express the Backwater people in general. 
 
 " She gives them money ; she has a right to buy some 
 praise for it," remarked Marj' Judge : " we earn our 
 money fairly, and have a right to speak our minds." 
 
 " She seems so kind a lady." 
 
 " Ah !" said her aunt, laconically.
 
 154 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 By this time Anne had found her pillow, placed it on 
 her lap, and was sitting facing xiunt Mary — a com- 
 panion figure, more bright of face, and with more 
 grace of form. Then for awhile they were both 
 silent, and the click-click of the bobbins passing under 
 and over each other only disturbed the stillness of the 
 night. 
 
 " You said that you had something to tell me," said 
 Mary at last, in a slow, unsympathetic tone, that 
 betrayed no great anxiety for an enlightenment. 
 
 " I — I thought that you did not care to hear about 
 it," answered Anne, a little petulantly. 
 
 '* I don't know why you should think that ; I did 
 not say so," replied her aunt. " Go on. I dare say 
 that it will throw a light upon the reason for your 
 long stay at the hotel, wasting time there when time 
 to spare was a luxury that you should have denied 
 yourself." 
 
 " I can make up for lost time now." 
 
 " There is no making up for lost time. You should 
 know better than that," Mary Judge gravely remarked. 
 
 " I think that I will leave the news till to-morrow," 
 said Anne. " Y^ou are tired, and I fancy a little — ^just 
 a little — cross, aunt. And oh, I should like you in 
 the best, the very best, of tempers when I tell you 
 this!" 
 
 There was a shade less severity of feature, perhaps, 
 as the elder woman glanced at her niece for a moment.
 
 MARY JUDGE HAS A LOXG NlGHX's WORK. 155 
 
 " Just a little cross, eh ?" she repeated ; " well, I may- 
 be, for I do not seem to make way with this work ; and 
 whilst you have been absent I have been reckoning how 
 much I get for it, and how much will be got for it 
 eventually, and the difference is not a pleasant matter 
 to reflect upon. However, I do not repine. I have 
 lived too long not to feel that all this is a part of our 
 usual fortunes." 
 
 *'You work for me now, as well as for yourself, 
 aunt." 
 
 " Oh, you keep yourself," was the answer. " You 
 are less persevering than you might be, but you do not 
 add to my expenses." 
 
 *' Am I of any good here ?" 
 
 " You are not in the way. You earn your own living, 
 and I do not charge you for sea air, Anne." 
 
 " The sea air — that has saved my life, papa says." 
 
 ** Very likely. I would not have given much for 
 your life — if I had had much to give, even — when you 
 came here first." 
 
 '* Do you remember telling father one night that you 
 thought it would be the best thing for me if I were to 
 die?" 
 
 " I told him so, for he was beginning to make himself 
 foolish about you." 
 
 " I should have been out of the way, and no trouble 
 to any one," said Anne, musingly ; " that was what you 
 meant ?"
 
 156 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 "Out of temptation — above it, perhaps, somewhere 
 there," said Mary Judge, jerking her head upwards ; 
 " for to die young would have been an advantage to 
 you, I think. What is such a girl as you living for, 
 after all, I don't know — I cannot see." 
 
 Anne had brought round the conversation skilfully 
 to the subject which she desired to introduce. 
 
 " Can you see me as well and strong as I am now, 
 and in a different position," she said quickly*, "a com- 
 panion to a lady, for example — a lady who will be 
 kind to me, and pay me so good a salary that I shall 
 be able to save very fast, and with every day to see 
 the time coming nearer for that life and home with 
 father to which he is looking forward — can you see 
 that chance befall me, aunt, and not advise me to 
 accept it, thankful for the good fortune that is put in 
 my way ?" 
 
 " You are excited to-night," she said, coldly ; " you 
 are making no end of mischief with that lace, and it's a 
 simple pattern too. You had better leave off and talk, 
 than go on like that." 
 
 Anne seemed discouraged by this reproof Aunt 
 Judge thought more of her lace than of that change in 
 her niece's prospects which might be awaiting her. She 
 was a woman whose heart was not to be stirred to its 
 depths very easily, or one who could disguise any feel- 
 ing that disturbed that organ with a wonderful imper- 
 turbability. For the first time she left off her work
 
 MARY JUDGE HAS A LONG NIGHT'S WORK. 157 
 
 to lean forwards and re-arrange the numerous pieces of 
 wood dangling about the pillow on her niece's lap, and 
 it was not till all had been set to h^er mind that she said : 
 
 " Has this Lady Burlinson offered you a place in her 
 employ, then ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "She should have spoken to me first," said Aunt 
 Judge, with her thin lips closer together ; " but these 
 fashionable folk do not study the feelings of us lower 
 orders. A real lady would have come to me, lest my 
 wishes should have been very different to yours and 
 hers, and thus have saved you from anxiety and dis- 
 appointment." 
 
 " Lady Burlinson thought that this proposition would 
 please you." 
 
 " She is very kind. What did you think ?" 
 
 She left off her work for an instant as if she were 
 more anxious to know what Anne Judg-e thousrht of 
 her, or whether she had thought of her at all. 
 
 " I — I thought that it would please you too, aunt," 
 said Anne ; " that to know my position was improved, 
 and that I was no longer in your way here, causing 
 expense to you and extra work, despite my efforts to be 
 of service, would be taking a load from your mind — an 
 encumbrance from your house. I thought that this 
 would give me an opportunity of paying you back for 
 all that you have done for me." 
 
 " An opportunity, too, to escape this life," said Mary
 
 158 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 Judge, very calmly — " to exchange this hovel for a fine 
 house ; a gloomy woman like me, for whom you can 
 have no affection, for ^a light-hearted woman, who can 
 show you the world, and teach you to forget that such 
 miserable wretches as your father and myself ever had 
 existence in it." 
 
 "Oh, aunt! Why do you talk like this?" cried 
 Anne. " If father were here, or if I thought that you 
 had loved me very much, and would be sorry to part 
 with me, I would not go." 
 
 " You are not happy in this place ; what is to make 
 you happy, that I should feel myself slighted by your 
 wish to escape from such a den as this ?" 
 
 " You do not want me to go ?" 
 
 But the firm woman would not acknowledge that. 
 
 " I have not the right to ask you to stay. You have 
 a father to consult, and I think — I do not know, under* 
 stand — that his pride will resent your idea of entering 
 into service, though your mistress be Lady Burlinson, 
 and your wages be more -than you can earn by honest 
 independence. You must write to him, Anne ; it is lo 
 business of mine." 
 
 " Perhaps it will worry him," said Anne, with a scared 
 look towards her aunt. 
 
 " He must expect a little worry as his child becomes 
 a woman," was the answer ; " but he would prefer being 
 worried to your acting on your own responsibility yet 
 awhile."
 
 MARY JUDGE HAS A LONG XIGHT's WORK. 159 
 
 " I would not do anything of which he would disap- 
 prove — I, who know now what a sad life his has been, 
 aunt," cried Anne. " Always my poor father in the 
 foreground whilst he lives. There, that must be — that 
 shall be," she cried enthusiastically ; " and I, Anne 
 Judge — for ever the spinster, remember — at his side, to 
 replace her who tired of him, and would have broken 
 his dear heart if it had not been for me, the little girl 
 left behind. Oh, aunt, do you think that I would take 
 this step unless he wished it too ?" 
 
 " It is your first temptation, Anne." 
 
 " It tempts me because it seems to lead me nearer to 
 my father." 
 
 " It leads away from him. I see the path ahead 
 widening for ever away from him, and he, a solitary 
 figure in the distance, grieving at your loss." 
 
 " How can it be ?" cried Anne. " You always dash 
 me down like this, as though I was not to be trusted." 
 
 " I will not influence you or liim by a word," said the 
 aunt: '*have I not told you that it is no business of 
 mine ? I can understand well enough, Anne, that there 
 is nothing here to stay for." 
 
 The fingers worked more busily at her lace, and the 
 brow contracted as she worked. She did not look up 
 again ; she even turned a little in her chair away from 
 Anne Judge, as a hint, perhaps, that she did not care 
 to hear more concerning the topic that had excited her 
 niece. When she spoke again it was to suggest that.
 
 160 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 as Anne had left off lace-makinor and was staring 
 thoughtfully before her with her hands folded on the 
 pillow, it would be the better plan for the niece to go 
 to bed. 
 
 " I think that I will. I feel that I cannot settle to 
 this to-night, aunt." 
 
 " Will you write your letter to your father ?" sug- 
 gested the aunt. 
 
 " Not to-night — to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow you should settle to work." 
 
 " I will write the day after, then. There is plenty of 
 time ; the lady is in no hurry for my final resolution." 
 
 *' The lady is kind not to force your answer," said 
 the aunt. *' I have not inquired much about her. She 
 is staying with her brother. What is he ?" 
 
 " A physician in London." 
 
 " Married or single ?" 
 
 '• Single." 
 
 " What is his name ?" 
 
 "Day." 
 
 " There is twelve striking," said Aunt Judge. " Now 
 go to bed, Anne, and dream not too much of the great 
 change for which your heart pants." 
 
 " I am not building upon it," answered Anne, moodily. 
 " You have dispirited me by speaking of my father 
 — by saying that it separates us more, not draws us 
 closer together." 
 
 *' You do not see that yet ?"
 
 MARY JUDGE HAS A LONG NIGHT's WORK. 161 
 
 "No, for I have faith in myself," said the girl, 
 proudly ; " and without acting for myself, I cannot see 
 the time when father will come back to me." 
 
 " Leave it for time," answered Aunt Judge ; " there 
 is no occasion to distress yourself now. Go to bed and 
 rest." 
 
 "Good-night, then." 
 
 " Good-night." 
 
 It was a good-night more cold and abrupt than Anne 
 Judge had hitherto received in her stay there, and the 
 girl was quick to see the difference. She hesitated, then 
 went back across the room and stood before her aunt, 
 watching her with great pleading eyes. The aunt knew 
 that she was there, but her gaze remained directed to 
 her pillow, and the busy hands plied still their work 
 unfalteringly. 
 
 " Aunt Mary," she said, at last, " I wish that you 
 would say something before I go up-stairs to night." 
 
 " What do you want me to say ?" 
 
 " That you would be sorry to lose me." 
 
 A long pause, — then the woman said : 
 
 '* I should not be sorry to lose any one who was glad 
 to part with me." 
 
 Anne turned away and went up-stairs without another 
 word. She did not understand her aunt, no more than 
 Aunt Judge understood her. She turned to her own 
 dreams of a different life to this — any life, she thought 
 indignantly, that stood apart from that cold, unsym- 
 
 VOL. I, M
 
 162 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 pathetic woman who kept all affection in others at bay, 
 and neither by word nor sign evinced affection herself. 
 Aunt Judge was a woman who made lace, — nothing 
 more. 
 
 She did not see Aunt Judge later that night, or 
 know that after she had gone the fingers moved less 
 fast, and the face betrayed less sternness, if more of a 
 settled gloom. Finally the click-click of the bobbins 
 ceased, and the woman sat as Anne Judge had sat at 
 an earlier hour and been reproved for, with folded 
 hands across the ."^pillow, and her eyes staring at the 
 opposite wall. It was striking one when Mary Judge 
 shook herself like a dog, and recommenced her work, 
 angrily brushing something away from her eyes with 
 the back of her hard hand, before she composed herself 
 to the old task. There seemed no thought of sleep 
 that night in Mary Judge ; she went on with a vigour 
 that was remarkable. Nothing seemed to tire her or 
 to warn her that the hour was late, and after hard work 
 that rest was necessary. . There was money to be earned, 
 and perhaps Aunt Judge was fond of money, and fought 
 hard for it. Backwater people found her always very 
 busy, and pillow-lace fetched a better price than fisher- 
 men's nets, although Aunt Judge professed always to 
 be poor, and rented the most dilapidated wooden 
 shed on that side of Ilpham. The Backwater people 
 would have liked to know a little more about Miss 
 Judge, who, however, shunned society, was seldom
 
 MARY JUDGE HAS A LOXG NIGHT's WORK. 163 
 
 seen in the town, and was never known to walk into 
 St. Bride's. 
 
 Two o'clock, and the solitary woman paused to hear 
 the clock strike, and then went on again. She might 
 have gone on all night uninterruptedly, and the early 
 grey morning have found her still at work, had not 
 there been a sudden turn given to her thoughts by a 
 heavy footfall that sounded outside the cottage. Aunt 
 Judge was not a nervous woman, or else a woman who, 
 suddenly alarmed, lost not her presence of mind with 
 her sense of coming danger. She placed the pillow 
 upon the table, stood up, snatched at the box upon the 
 mantelpiece — that box into which Anne Judge had 
 dropped the money which she had received at an earlier 
 hour — and passed it up the chimney with a quickness 
 that almost indicated practice in the art of conceal- 
 ment ; sat down again, and took the pillow once more 
 into her lap. 
 
 She even commenced work anew, with her head 
 slightly inclined towards the door in a listening atti- 
 tude. The footfalls continued : some one was beset 
 by a restless spirit without, and tramped backwards and 
 forwards heavily for awhile ; then there followed a 
 sudden stillness, although the footsteps had been close 
 to the house a moment since. Aunt Judge glanced 
 towards the window to make sure that the shutter had 
 been closed, as it had been hours ago ; and then re- 
 membered suddenly that Anne had come last inta^
 
 16i ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 the house, and that the door was probably still upon 
 the latch, Anne not having much forethought as re- 
 garded fastenings. 
 
 "We're safe enough," muttered Mary Judge, as 
 though to reassure herself ; " but there's more money 
 in the house than usual, and some one may have guessed 
 tiiat. Who's there?" 
 
 A hand had knocked heavily on the door whilst she 
 was soliloquizing, and she gave a little jump in her 
 chair, although she was a brave woman — brave enough 
 to edge that chair nearer to the fireplace, so that she 
 sat at a convenient distance from a short, thick bar of 
 iron that did duty as a poker in her establishment, and 
 would have been a terrible weapon to confront in the 
 hands of a woman on guard. 
 
 "May I beg the favour of a few words?" said a 
 man's voice \^-ithout. 
 
 '• Come in. The door is not locked, I believe." 
 
 The man without struo-aled with the door for awhile 
 
 CO 
 
 before it gave way to him — for it was an obstinate door, 
 as the reader is aware, and resisted persuasion for 
 awhile like all obstinate things, animate or inanimate 
 — and at last found his way into the house. 
 
 '•'Perceiving a light through the chinks of your 
 window-shutter, I have taken the liberty of this in- 
 trusion," said the gentleman, not advancing into the 
 room, but lingering on the threshold, where the light 
 fell faintly on him.
 
 MARY JUDGE HAS A LOXG NIGHT's WORK. 165 
 
 " What do you want ?" 
 
 Mary Judge had recommenced her pillow-lace, to 
 show that she was not unnerved by the stranger's ap- 
 pearance in her room. She glanced towards him, saw 
 that he was a portly man with a black beard, and then 
 she glanced towards her poker, although her suspicions 
 were abating. 
 
 " Is the room above this occupied ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "It commands a view over the Backwater, and of 
 Mr. Aynard's boat-house, where there is a light to- 
 night. I think that from that upper window, and with 
 a good glass that I have here " (Mary Judge had taken 
 it for a gun), " I may be able to ascertain whether 
 Mr. Aj-nard is alone or not. I assure you that it is a 
 matter of grave importance to me, and that for any 
 trouble which I may occasion you by this intrusion I 
 shall be most happy to remunerate you." 
 
 " You can see the boat-house window where the green 
 light is sufficiently well from the front of the house," 
 said Mar}' Judge, coolly. " I cannot have my niece 
 disturbed at this hour." 
 
 " But, my dear madam, this is a serious case to me," 
 he said, advancing a step nearer to her as he spoke. 
 " The extra ten feet in altitude would enable me, with 
 my glass, to see into the room. I am sure that, if I 
 tell you " 
 
 He stopped abruptly, for Mary Judge had set aside
 
 166 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 her pillow and risen to her feet, a tall hard-faced 
 woman, who leaned across the table to peer more 
 closely at him ; who took up the light for an instant 
 and held it towards him, that she might more surely 
 convince herself that it was he whom she suspected. 
 
 "You are George Seymour," she said, in a harsh 
 whisper. " You are strangely altered ; but I am as 
 sure that you are George Seymour as that I am Mary 
 Judge. How dare you seek me out ?" 
 
 The intruder receded as though a serpent was hissing 
 at him and might spring on him in an instant ; he stood 
 against the wall, a man abashed enough, his disengaged 
 hand groping for the door-latch, his eyes fixed upon this 
 spectre of his past, sorrowfully and full of fear. 
 
 " I — I did not know that this was your place — that 
 you had fallen to so low a state as this," he murmured. 
 " Do not think for an instant that I would have come 
 here, had I known it." 
 
 "I am only a woman; you are quite safe from 
 violence, sir," she said, bitterly. " Perhaps you were 
 sure of this before you entered." 
 
 " On my honour I did not know that this was your 
 house." 
 
 " On George Seymour's -honour ! Great Heaven ! 
 what a thing to pledge to me." 
 
 " I can only offer the excuse of ignorance," he said, 
 very apologetic still, " and go away." 
 
 " One moment, now you are here !" she exclaimed,
 
 MARY JUDGE HAS A LONG NIGHT's WORK. 167 
 
 with an excitement at which the sleeper above-stairs 
 would have marvelled greatly. "What has become 
 of her whom you tempted to her ruin ?" 
 
 " Does it matter ?" 
 
 " I am curious to know whether such a man as you 
 could have been even faithful to his sins." 
 
 "I am a man tortured by remorse," he groaned. 
 "She is well provided for. She is living away from 
 me, a penitent woman — I swear it, Mary." 
 
 " What do you want in Ilpham ?" 
 
 " I have come over to see a patient of mine. I return 
 to London to-morrow." 
 
 He answered all her questions with a deference that 
 seemed unnatural ; he looked down at the tiled floor, 
 and the hand that held the telescope shook with a 
 strange nervousness. 
 
 " Heaven knows for what reason you are here, and at 
 this hour. I can only couple with your name motives 
 the basest and the cruellest." 
 
 " You are hard upon me — you do not know what I 
 have suffered." 
 
 " I do not wish to know," said Mary Judge. " I only 
 hope that that suffering may bow you down as low 
 as the man whose life you marred, and make as poor a 
 creature of you in God's time. There is no forgiveness 
 here," she cried, striking her breast passionately. " The 
 Judges are an unforgiving race. I cursed you when 
 the black news came from her husband's home to mine.
 
 168 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 and I guessed how you had fooled me with your atten- 
 tions from the first. I curse you now in his name, and 
 it will rest on you, or there is no justice in the world." 
 
 " I could explain — I could show that, however weak 
 I was, there were excuses for my conduct, if you would 
 only listen to me." 
 
 " Go, sir. I would prefer to endure anything rather 
 than listen to the excuses of a villain. Leave my house 
 at once." 
 
 He went from the room into the air like a man 
 bewildered by the passion which he had encountered, 
 and the door was slammed upon him and locked hastily. 
 He glanced back nervously at the hut, and the light 
 behind its many fissures was extinguished as he looked. 
 
 " To think that I should encounter her, of all women, 
 to-night," he said, shuddering ; " the woman whom I 
 felt that I could never face again, and who, I knew, 
 would look and speak like that, if ever chance brought 
 about our meeting. I must get away from Ilpham as 
 soon as possible — the place is wearing me to death. 
 With these hard and unrelenting Judges, my hfe may 
 not be even safe here." 
 
 He was more iull of himself than of his missing 
 friend now. He did not think of him until he was a 
 hundred yards from the house, then he stopped and 
 looked across the dull, dark landscape, no longer 
 lighted by the moon, and shrugged his shoulders at the 
 prospect.
 
 " He must stay there now, if he's in Aynard's trap," 
 he said ; " the tide is running out fast, and there is no 
 getting to the boat-house." 
 
 He went on again, and stopped again. The curTe 
 of the footpath brought the boat-house more fully into 
 view. He could see it standing about a mile ahead 
 there on the island, a black, gaunt edifice, with a sickly 
 gleam of greenish light streaming into the darkness 
 from the one window in the upper floor. All seemed 
 very still. He opened his glass and looked across 
 towards the light ; but no shadows came between it 
 and the window, or he must have seen them. 
 
 It was a cold watch, and the wind soughed across 
 the waste with that dismal plaintiveness for which the 
 wind was famous there even in such fine weather as 
 Ilpham had been favoured with for the last four and 
 twenty hours. 
 
 " I can do no more," he said, with a stamp of his 
 foot at his own incapacity, " and Delancy, if he is over 
 there, must take his chance. I dare say it is all right 
 enough ; and if it's all wrong, why, that is his 
 fault, not mine. I warned the man."
 
 170 
 
 CHAPTER Xll. 
 
 TAKEN PETSONER. 
 
 After reiterating Doctor Day's good-nights, Ned 
 Delancy composed himself in the stern of the boat, 
 whilst Hugh Aynard rowed him away from the hotel. 
 Ned had volunteered to take a scull, and the offer 
 having been declined, he buttoned his overcoat to the 
 chin, turned up the collar about his ears, and folded 
 his arms complacently. 
 
 " It's more cold out here than I fancied that it would 
 be," said Ned. " After all, a brisk walk to Prospect 
 Terrace would have done a fellow more good." 
 
 " I can't row back again," replied Aynard, shortly. 
 " I would not go back again to land the Queen of 
 England." 
 
 "That would be exceedingly disloyal of you, 
 though," said Ned. 
 
 " I should not care for that." 
 
 Ned replied not, unless a muttered *' Sulky again," 
 which was inaudible to his companion, might have
 
 TAKEN PRISONER. 171 
 
 represented his answer. He did not admire Mr. 
 Aynard's sulkiness, but as it disturbed not his equa- 
 nimity, he did not feel called upon to allude to it in any 
 way. Mr. Aynard was disposed to be silent — he had 
 a boat to row and a cigar to smoke — and Ned was dis- 
 inclined to make a great effort to sustain the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 Mr. Aynard was thoughtful, and Ned, after looking 
 at him for a minute or two, and admiring his style of 
 rowing, and the way in which the boat, under his 
 direction, seemed to cut through the bright water, fell 
 into thought himself, and went back to the small dinner- 
 party of an hour or so since, and to thoughts of the 
 weak, romantic woman who had spoken to him so 
 strangely on the balcony, and who had, in the face of 
 stern propriety, told him exactly what had parted them 
 four years ago. He had been startled by her boldness, 
 but he could not look at the Clara Day of old times 
 after that with feelings of mortification and pain ; he 
 was forced to see her with some of the past brightness 
 round her : the purity, the warmth of heart, and the 
 love of those old days, seemed to float once more before 
 him, and he could have almost thought it easy to step 
 back to the past romance, had it not been for the fact 
 that she had been another man's wife, and bore a new 
 name in her widowhood. No, after all, there was no 
 living back the past ; he was not in love with her now, 
 and he was not fool enough to beheve that she was in
 
 172 A-^NE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 love with him. Let the poor organist play away at St. 
 Bride's, and that poor woman of fashion play away on 
 the heart-strings of Hugh Aynard. Their lives led 
 different ways, and it was not likely that he should go 
 out of his way to cross her path again. 
 
 *' I have lived her down," he murmured to himself, 
 " and I do not care if I never see her or her plotting 
 brother again. Whilst those two remain in Ilpham I 
 shall, in fact, exert my ingenuity to keep oiit of their 
 way. Hollo, Mr. Aynard, where on earth — or rather on 
 water — have we got to ?" 
 
 ** There's Ilpham, straight ahead." 
 
 Ned looked behind. Yes, there was Ilpham straight 
 ahead, but it was a long way in the distance, and Hugh 
 Aynard was rowing steadily and swiftly out to sea. 
 Delancy sat still for awhile to collect his ideas. He 
 felt that he was, to a certain extent, a prisoner of this 
 man, and that to attempt to struggle with him for the 
 possession of the oars, would result in an upsetting of 
 the boat, and, as he was no swimmer, in a watery 
 termination to his evening's amusement. He was per- 
 plexed and annoyed at first, and his doubts of Mr. 
 Aynard's intentions were gathering force as he watched 
 the white face before him. It might be all a practical 
 joke of Mr. Aynard's — a something at which his com- 
 panion intended to laugh heartily presently ; but with 
 the gaslights of Ilpham town fast receding from view, 
 it struck him that there was such a weakness in the
 
 TAKEN PRISONER. 173 
 
 world as carrying a joke too far — especially too far 
 on the water after eleven o'clock at night. He was 
 annoyed, but he was not a man to betray his annoyance : 
 there was a slight feeling of uncomfortableness in his 
 mind at discovering the trick that had been put upon 
 him, but he was a man not easily disconcerted, and his 
 old coolness returned to him very speedily. He felt 
 that he was a match for that long-limbed, narrow- 
 chested man confronting him, and that it was his policy 
 to make the best of an unenviable position. There was 
 not a o^reat deal to feel alarmed at, at present. 
 
 " May I ask, Mr. Aynard, when you intend to land 
 me at the jetty ?" said Ned, quietly. " It appears to 
 me as if you had overshot the mark." 
 
 *' The tide runs with great force here, and there is no 
 rowing direct to the jetty, Mr. Delancy." 
 
 " Very good. Take your ow^n time." 
 
 Ned waited patiently, and Aynard still rowed out 
 to sea with calm persistence. Three or four minutes 
 later the rower came to a dead stop, and Ned looked 
 back at the town again, which was very faintly seen in 
 the distance now. 
 
 " I suffer from weak eyes," said Mr. Aynard. " Can 
 you see the light on the jetty, Delancy ?" 
 
 " I think that I can, but it's a plaguey long way 
 off." 
 
 " A mile, I dare say," said Aynard. " It's not a bad 
 picture in the moonlight, from this position — somewhat
 
 174 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 dull for a Londoner like you, but to me impressive from 
 its ver}^ dreariness." 
 
 "Well, it's not a particularly cheerful look-out," 
 replied Ned ; " and if you are fond of dreariness, why, 
 you have got enough of it." 
 
 Aynard laughed a little wildly, and Ned thought that 
 he should feel all the more comfortable if his friend did 
 not repeat that laugh. He kept watch upou every 
 movement of Hugh Aynard ; he would not have been 
 greatly surprised at any action of that gentleman, and 
 he was on his guard for all his coolness. 
 
 " I wish that you would let me take the oars, or one 
 of them, and row in to llpham." 
 
 " I am not tired ; I have rowed for eight hours with- 
 out feeling fatigue before this. I am fond of the 
 water." 
 
 " Yes, it looks like it," said Delancy, to himself. 
 
 " You can see the country beyond the town from here, 
 the moon is so bright to-night," said Aynard. " I am 
 an idealist, and love the moon and all that the moon 
 makes lovely in nature. You have studied moonlight 
 effects before to-night with Lady Burhnson, and I am 
 tiring you, perhaps, with my remarks." 
 
 " Not at all. Don't hurry yourself on my account" 
 
 *' ^Ye are too far off to admire the full effect of the 
 light on the old stone church of St. Bride. I have seen 
 it quiver on the grave-stones till one could almost fancy 
 that the dead were risinj^. The dead Aynards out of
 
 TAKEN PRISONER. 175 
 
 their gloomy vault under the church, too — I wonder 
 whether I should have nerve enough to welcome them." 
 
 " I dare say that you would be very glad to see them, 
 if they behaved themselves," said Ned. 
 
 '^ The Aynards never behaved themselves, sir. They 
 have been, from time immemorial, a desperate lot of 
 men. My grandfather was a smuggler, and made much 
 money by smuggling, I have heard, for all his being 
 a magistrate of the county, and living in a grand house 
 at Thirby Cross. I wish that smuggling paid now- 
 a-days." 
 
 " Don't you think that we had better make a start 
 agam i 
 
 *'One minute. I am trying if my weak eyes can 
 detect a buoy anchored somewhere to the right." 
 
 " We are drifting to the right, I fancy." 
 
 " Yes, and there's the buoy." 
 
 He let go his oar to point out a dark, top-shaped 
 buoy floating near them, and the oar fell with a splash 
 into the water, and was out of reach almost on the 
 instant — so quickly out of reach that, to a suspicious 
 mind, one might have fancied that Hugh Aynard had 
 given an impetus to it as it left his hand. 
 
 " The oar is gone !" he exclaimed, however, in well- 
 feigned astonishment. 
 
 " We must try and reach it." 
 
 *' Try and reach the Dutch coast over there — it's as 
 easy a task," said Aynard. " You don't know how
 
 176 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 the tide runs in on these flat shores. Mr. Delancy, 
 there'll be no reaching Prospect Terrace to-night, I am 
 afraid." 
 
 Ned fancied that his companion leaned his head for- 
 wards to hide a smile, as the boat swung round the 
 buoy and went onwards with the current. 
 
 " Shall we drift here all night ? Surely we can 
 paddle with the tide towards the pier." 
 
 " The tide turns in a quarter of an hour, 6r there- 
 abouts. It is impossible." 
 
 "Then to the impossible I surrender. Pass over 
 your cigar-case, and I'll break my virtuous resolution 
 and help you with the Havannahs." 
 
 Mr. Aynard felt in the pocket of his coat, and pitched 
 the cigar-case towards him. If he had expected a burst 
 of rage, or an exclamation of disappointment or dismay 
 from his companion, he was disappointed ; but he might 
 not have anticipated anything of the kind. He ap- 
 peared to regard Ned Delancy curiously as he lighted 
 his cigar — that was all. 
 
 " We must drift round to the Backwater now that 
 we are handy for it ; one must always row out to that 
 buoy to get into the current," he said. " I have no 
 doubt that with this one scull I can keep in the mid- 
 stream. It runs in here like a Fate that there is no 
 resisting, does it not ? If this were Fate, what could 
 be done to change our course now ?" 
 
 " I can't say. These are very good cigars, Aynard."
 
 TAKEN PRISONER. 177 
 
 " I €im glad that you like them ; they are of the 
 right sort, I believe." 
 
 " Some of the goods of that smuggling old grand- 
 father of yours, perhaps ?" 
 
 *'No; they are honest purchases of my own. Sit 
 still and hold fast ; it is here that we shave death — 
 afterwards fair saihng. Are you afraid ?" 
 
 " ril tell you when I am." 
 
 Ned Delancy saw his danger, however, and thought 
 for an instant of Lady Burlinson, and of a grey-haired 
 gentlewoman whom he loved more than ever he should 
 love Lady Burlinson again, and whom he called his 
 mother. They were drifting towards the Backwater 
 now, even revolving in the swirling waters, which 
 streamed on with a sullen roar towards the gap that 
 they had made inland. Aynard stood upright in the 
 boat, pushing desperately with his oar away from the 
 shore, which was rugged and dangerous here, and on 
 which it seemed more than probable that the boat 
 would strike. They seemed to escape as by a miracle, 
 and then they went on smoothly and swiftly across the 
 water, which became broader every instant, and was 
 dotted, Ned could see, by islands here and there, that 
 looked like foul creatures of the sea, rising to gaze 
 with wonder at them as they drifted by. 
 
 Aynard laughed again as he resumed his place in 
 the boat, and again Ned Delancy thought what an 
 extremely unpleasant laugh it was, 
 
 VOL. T. N
 
 178 ANXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " We are right enough now. In ten minutes' time 
 we shall reach the boat-house, ray favourite study, 
 where I have one or two things to communicate to 
 your private ear, Mr. Delancy." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 "I am a plain-spoken man under my own roof^ you 
 will find." 
 
 '* I admire a man who is not afraid to speak out" 
 
 *' Then you will admire me immensely." • 
 
 " Weil, I hope I shall," said Ned, doubtfully. 
 
 They were silent again after this. Hugh A}Tiard 
 had still his work to do to keep in mid-stream, and 
 Ned objected to his companion's sudden springs up- 
 wards now and then, which threatened to end the 
 adventure summarily after all. 
 
 "It is more shallow here than I bargained for," 
 muttered x\ynard, as he sounded the water's depth with 
 his oar ; '* another ten minutes would have been too 
 late for us." 
 
 Past another island, on which a stunted tree was 
 orrowincr, with its branches all stretched in one direc- 
 tion from the sea, as though praying for friends 
 inland to save it from its miserable position ; then the 
 broad water once more, and, finally, swaying towards 
 another island, on which a wooden house was built, 
 that, like the tree, seemed also to have suffered from 
 the gales, and was bent inwards towards the distant 
 country.
 
 TAKEN PRISONER. 179 
 
 " We shall run aground here, Mr. Delancy," said 
 Aynard. " Are you ready ?" 
 
 " Quite ready, thank you," said Ned, drily. 
 
 An instant afterwards the boat's keel grated against 
 the bottom, and the two men leaped upon the island, 
 and looked at each other intently, 
 
 "You are a prisoner of state at Aynard's Roost, 
 Mr. Delancy," said the elder man, laying his hand 
 on our hero's shoulder. " I hope the place will suit 
 you."
 
 180 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 aynard's roost. 
 
 Ned Delaxcy looked up at the rickety building above 
 him, and wondered whether it would last till morning if 
 the wind blew at all fresh across the Backwater, instead 
 of making that low wail which was not a soul-stirring 
 sound to hear at that hour and place, and with so, 
 eccentric a companion at his elbow. 
 
 " At what time to-morrow is it high-water, Aynard ?" 
 he asked, as he stood ankle-deep in wet grass, and felt 
 the damp already through his dress boots. 
 
 " Twelve hours, or thereabouts. And if the water 
 fall as much in the next twelve hours as it has fallen in 
 the last, I shall not be able to foretell when Ilpham will 
 be reached again. In three weeks' time, perhaps." 
 
 " Have you ever remained here three weeks ?" 
 
 " Three months, and in the depth of winter. When 
 I feel ill and strange — and I feel very strange in the 
 head at times "
 
 aynard's roost. 181 
 
 '*0h, I don't doubt that," Delancy felt forced to 
 remark. 
 
 " I come on here out of the way of people whom I 
 am likely to annoy, or who are likely to annoy me, by 
 watching me and storing up facts to my disadvantage. 
 Here I escape the miserable world about me, and can 
 be myself without restraint. I like the place ; I feel 
 that this is home. When I marry, Delancy, I shall 
 spend my honeymoon here." 
 
 " I hope that you and your bride will enjoy it," said 
 Delancy, drily. 
 
 " Will you follow me, or wait till I have lighted up ?" 
 
 " I'll wait here, please, till you can show me a light 
 up-stairs." 
 
 He did not know how far Mr. Aynard might be 
 trusted, or which way he might be led in the dark, 
 and Mi;. Aynard guessed what was passing in his 
 mind. 
 
 " You have no confidence in me ?" he said. 
 
 "I will finish this cigar, with your good leave,'' 
 Delancy answered. 
 
 " You have no confidence in me. Why do you not 
 speak out what is in your mind ?" 
 
 " Well, after that joke with the oar, and this very 
 extraordinary manner of dropping me at Prospect 
 Terrace, I cannot say that I have very 'great confi- 
 dence in you at present." 
 
 " You are afraid of me ?"
 
 182 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 "My dear fellow, I should not be afraid of two 
 of you in fair play, or fair fight. I presume that Mr. 
 Hugh Aynard, of Thirby Cross, a gentleman by posi- 
 tion and a gentleman by descent, means nothing un- 
 fair ?" 
 
 The gentleman by position and descent put his hands 
 in his pockets, after his old habit, and looked down 
 somewhat gloomily. 
 
 " No, I mean nothing unfair, Delancy. I am host 
 here, you are guest ; but I have a great deal to discuss 
 wdth you, and we may not agree upon several points. 
 "V^Hiat is to be done under those circumstances ?" 
 
 " Suppose we consider that point when those circum- 
 stances occur." 
 
 *' That is time enough," said Aynard. " Wait here 
 one moment." 
 
 " With pleasure." 
 
 Hugh Aynard left his companion, and walked to 
 a side-door in the large wooden shed — an old door 
 clamped with iron, and heavily padlocked. The 
 fastenings were undone with difficulty, Ned observed ; 
 a huge chain fell with a clanking noise that echoed 
 over the water dismally, and the door was pushed back 
 on its creaking hinges. 
 
 " I shall not keep you long," said Aynard. Then he 
 seemed to dive into the dark aperture, and Delancy 
 heard his feet ascending with rapidity a wooden flight 
 of steps, which creaked and shivered beneath his weight.
 
 aynard's roost. 183 
 
 Ned looked at the boat as Ajmard disappeared, and 
 thought that it might be possible to get across the 
 Backwater to the low land that stretched round it in 
 the distance. 
 
 " It is the better part of valour," he said to himself ; 
 " but it might not answer, and I may as well see this to 
 to an end, though I don't admire the style of its begin- 
 ning. Oh, his serene eccentrissimo is lighting up, I 
 see." 
 
 The green glass window was suddenly illumined by 
 the light within the house, and an instant or two after- 
 wards Aynard, with a small oil lamp in his hand, came 
 down the stairs, and stood in the doorway with the flame 
 flickering above his head. 
 
 " I am ready for you, Mr. Delancy. Follow me, if 
 if you please, and mind the tenth stair, which is likely 
 to give way with you." 
 
 " Then I'll certainly mind it," said Delancy. " Shall 
 I shut this door behind me, or do you like fresh air, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Close it, please, and draw the bolts." 
 
 Ned did as requested, and then followed Hugh 
 Aynard up the rickety steps to the room on the first 
 floor — a large room, with bare rafters crossing it, and 
 a tiled roof above them, through which a star or two 
 were shimmering. There was a table in the centre of 
 the room heaped up with books and papers, two or 
 three easy-chairs about the place, a small piano in one
 
 184 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 corner, a couch underneath the window, and a huge 
 box of oak, that was also padlocked, looming from the 
 shadows in the distance where the roof sloped down- 
 wards to the floor. 
 
 " I will light a fire in a moment," said Aynard. 
 " You feel cold, perhaps, after your journey ?" 
 
 " A fire would be an advantage, I think/' 
 
 " And some brandy," Aynard added, looking round 
 him, as he knelt before a rusty fireplace already laid 
 with coal and wood. '' I have meat and drink here 
 that will last us all the time of our imprisonment, if 
 the water drop to-morrow as much as I fancy." 
 
 " Brandy is rather a strong beverage for after din- 
 ner," said Delancy, thinking of the consequences to his 
 companion. " Have you any claret in stock ?" 
 
 " Not here. You will like this brandy, man — it 
 comes from Thirby Cross, w^here the cellars are not 
 empty yet, and where some of the goods of my smug- 
 gling grandfather hoarded up are still in existence, 
 rich and potent with age. He said that the drink 
 would be in its prime about fifty years after he had 
 been at rest in his coffin." 
 
 *' A cheerful old fellow, who looked ahead a long 
 way," said Delancy. 
 
 Mr. Aynard lighted his fire, and then motioned 
 Delancy to draw up beside it whilst he went to the 
 oaken chest in search of brandy. The chest unlocked, 
 the brandy found, and two small glasses placed upon
 
 aynard's roost. 185 
 
 the books with which the table was encumbered, Hugh 
 Aynard took the seat facing his unwilling guest. 
 
 " You are the first man that has ever been to 
 Aynard's Roost with me," he said, looking hard into 
 our hero's face as he poured out the brandy ; " and I 
 dare say that you will be the last, for I am not partial 
 to intrusion here." 
 
 " If you had only dropped me at the jetty, Aynard — " 
 
 " Then I could not have spoken to you on those 
 things that perplex me, and keep my brain hot ; and 
 I have brought you here to talk over matters seriously 
 where there is no one to listen, or to stand between us, 
 if we get as far as that." 
 
 He pointed to a flat mahogany case that was half 
 buried beneath the books, and which case Delancy had 
 not noticed before, and now guessed at once that there 
 were pistols in it. 
 
 " It is not likely to get as serious as that." 
 
 *'I don't know," answered Aynard, moodily. 
 
 *' Ah, but I do ; for I shall not point a pistol at your 
 head, and I'll take very great care that you do not at 
 mine." 
 
 " Life must have been a bright one with you, Mr. 
 Delancy," said Aynard, '* you treat serious matters so 
 lightly." 
 
 " Life has been full of trials, which I have resisted 
 without getting very weak in the effort." 
 
 Aynard reached his hand towards his brandy, and
 
 186 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 Ned Delancy, watchful of every movement, noticed 
 that the hand trembled as the glass was held to his 
 lips. 
 
 " Your greatest trial was connected with Lady Bur- 
 linson, I think ?" 
 
 " I thought so once. Looking back upon it, I am 
 not quite so certain." 
 
 " You were engaged to her ?" he said, sharply. 
 
 " Yes, before I was twenty years of age. At one 
 and twenty the engagement was broken off for good." 
 
 *' So Day tells me," said Aynard, as he set down his 
 empty glass; "and for that reason I met you this 
 evening at Markham's fairly, to begin with. I did my 
 best to like you, at his wish. That engagement was 
 broken off by mutual consent, and with no one to blame 
 on either side, I understand ?" 
 
 " No — no one to blame." 
 
 " But you come back to her again," said Aynard, 
 with suppressed excitement ; " you cross her path and 
 mine, knowing that I love her, and have a right to love 
 her, and you seek to supplant me at the eleventh hour. 
 I swear that you shall never have her while I live !" 
 
 He smote his hand upon the books with which the 
 table was cumbered, and sent up a cloud of dust there- 
 from ; his face turned purple with rage, and the veins in 
 his forehead swelled like whipcord. 
 
 This was the crisis, Ned Delancy felt assured, and 
 he must be ready to grapple with the man should the
 
 aynard's roost. 187 
 
 fury of his passion overstep the mark. He kept his 
 eyes fixed steadily upon his adversary, prepared for any 
 violence, and wondering inwardly whether his own 
 muscular power would be strong enough to cope with 
 the mad strength which would possess the other. 
 
 Hugh Aynard continued in the same wild fashion, 
 brandishing one long arm in the air to give greater 
 force to his words. 
 
 " I have been waiting all my life for the woman 
 whom I could love, who I could feel would be true to 
 me, and pity the poor wretch that suspicion has made 
 of me. That woman I have found in Clara Burlinson, 
 and you shall not take her from me ! I am too des- 
 perate a man." 
 
 *' Have I expressed an intention of taking her from 
 you?" 
 
 " You were there to-night at her side. You paid 
 her that attention which it was my place to pay. 
 You ensnared her from me with your cunning, and 
 took her on to the balcony away from me. She was 
 leading you back to the old feelings regarding her, 
 and you were willing, too willing, to be led — neither 
 of you caring for the agony which scorched here like a 
 furnace." 
 
 He dashed his hands against his forehead in his mad 
 extravagance ; he cursed the man before him, and the 
 woman who he said was ready to jilt him for his fancied 
 rival ; he cursed George Day for the weakness that
 
 188 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 had led him to bring the old lovers together, and in his 
 presence. 
 
 " You will not renounce her at my bidding. I cannot 
 expect that," he said, less furiously, at last ; " and you 
 or I must fight for her. I have brought you here with 
 that intention, Mr. Delancy, not with any idea of mur- 
 dering you, as you have thought. It is not probable 
 that we shall both leave this place aUve — we shall fight 
 unto the death, sir." 
 
 He leaned across towards the pistol-case, on which 
 Delancy set his hand at once, the first sign of opposi- 
 tion that he had hitherto shown. The two men paused, 
 and looked at each other — the eyes of Aynard be- 
 coming unsteady, and glancing away from his oppo- 
 nent, after an instant. 
 
 "I shall fight in self-defence, Mr. Aynard, if you 
 compel me," said Delancy, calmly but firmly, " but not 
 with pistols, if I can possibly help it." 
 
 " I cannot take your life in cold blood," muttered 
 Aynard. 
 
 "Will you take into consideration whether it is 
 necessary to fight at all ?" 
 
 "Ha! you renounce her? Formally and deli- 
 berately, on your honour as a gentleman, you give 
 up any attempt to win the hand of George Day's 
 sister ?" 
 
 " You would think that I was afraid of you then, 
 Aynard — which I am not, upon my word," repUed
 
 aynard's roost. 189 
 
 Delancy ; '* and as the future is full of mystery, I 
 make no promises to any man." 
 
 " You think of her as the girl you loved — why 
 disguise this?" 
 
 "No — I think of her as a woman who was soon 
 talked over to marry some one else, and in my pity for 
 her, my new feelings for her, I have felt no love return. 
 It is not likely that I ever shall — but I make no 
 promise, either to you or to mysel£" 
 " She loves you still, perhaps ?" 
 " She told me that she hoped I should never come 
 near her again, which was an odd way of showing her 
 affection." 
 
 " Did she say that ?" he asked, eagerly. 
 "Yes, in that balcony duologue which appears to 
 have disturbed your serenity so greatly." 
 " And you own that you do not love her?" 
 " She does not appear to me the woman fitted to be 
 the wife of a poor musician, and I do not feel suited to 
 become the husband of a fashionable woman. If it be any 
 consolation to you, my excitable friend, the last thought 
 that I have in the world is of marrying at present." 
 
 *' She would reinstate you in your old position," said 
 Aynard, doubtfully. 
 
 " I do not want to return to it. I am a contented 
 man, and my own master." 
 
 Hugh Aynard, to our hero's astonishment, held forth 
 his hand towards him.
 
 190 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " I think that I can believe you," he said. " Delancy, 
 I will believe you — there !" 
 
 Delancy took the hand that was extended to him, 
 and winced a little at the hardness of the grip. 
 
 " When I forgive, I forgive utterly," said Aynard. 
 " When I have done wrong, I do my best to make 
 amends ; but when I hate, I hate with a fiend's inten- 
 sity. I hated you to-night, Delancy, and I have been 
 hating you in vain ; I forgive you the pain that you 
 have made me suffer unintentionally, and having done 
 you wrong by my suspicions, what can I do by way of 
 reparation?" 
 
 Hugh Aynard spoke with a graceful courtesy 
 strangely at variance with his late excitement, and 
 Delancy regarded him still as a phenomenon. 
 
 " Get me out of this confounded draughty habita- 
 tion as soon as it is convenient," he said. " My poor 
 old landlady must be in fits by this time." 
 
 Mrs. Simmonds was frightening other folk into fits at 
 least, by hammering away at the front door of Mark- 
 ham's Hotel at that period, as the reader is aware. 
 
 " We will make an effort to leave the boat-house with 
 the next tide that flows into the Backwater, but I am 
 not sanguine of the result." 
 
 ** At low water what can be done ?" 
 
 " One can attempt to walk across the ooze, which 
 is knee-deep in some places, and in others sinks twenty 
 feet."
 
 191 
 
 " A cheerful prospect," said Delancy. 
 
 " The thing is done, and cannot be undone," remarked 
 Aynard. " Why should we brood upon results ?" 
 
 Ned thought that whilst Mr. Aynard was in a 
 conciliatory mood he might have taken the trouble 
 to apologize for the inconvenience to which he had 
 exposed a man guiltless of loving Clara Burlinson ; 
 but he did not press the question, and he accepted 
 the idea suggested by A}iiard's last remark. He 
 would not brood upon results — of the alarm at Pro- 
 spect Terrace, the chagrin of Doctor Day, possibly the 
 nervousness of his sister, and the embarrassment of 
 Mr. Weston and his conoreffation at the absence of 
 the ororanist from the service on Wednesday evenins: 
 next. A prisoner at AjTiard's Roost, he would make 
 the best of his position. Surely there was as much 
 philosophy in him as in this weak-minded young man 
 before him. He drank his brandy now matters had 
 assumed a less forbidding aspect, and he felt the cold- 
 ness of the night through the crevices in his rickety 
 habitation. 
 
 Aynard held the brandy-bottle towards his glass 
 again, 'but Delancy stopped him half way. 
 
 " No more, thank you. A little of that stuff goes 
 a long way." 
 
 " I think you are right," said x\ynard, corking the 
 bottle ; " it unsettles me at all events, although I had 
 made up my mind to drink deep to-night. Come
 
 192 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 and sit by the fire, and let me tell you what a wretched 
 life mine has been, then you will understand how I 
 have felt half mad at my one chance of happiness 
 being snatched away from me." 
 
 Rather more than half-mad, Ned Delancy thought, 
 but he did not express that idea aloud, lest he should 
 hurt his variable companion's feelings. 
 
 " You would scarcely believe it, Delancy," he said, 
 when they were seated by the fire, and he had turned 
 his sad face towards our hero, " but there are relations 
 of mine — my father's own flesh and blood, as it were, 
 who would lock me up in a mad-house : who are even 
 now trying to prove in a court of law that I am not fit 
 to be trusted with my property. They are rich people, 
 but they lust for the money which belongs to me, and 
 which my poor father,. as sane a man as ever lived, left 
 to my sole disposal upon the attainment of my majority. 
 I am always in fear of them. We have heard a hun- 
 dred times, read a hundred times in books, how people 
 are spirited away to asylums by certificates of doctors." 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 "The trial must go in my favour. Day says so too. 
 They will not get my estates, and afterwards sefze me. 
 I will not give my enemies a chance. I ask no one to 
 Thirby Cross, which I leave for months in the charge 
 of my housekeeper, an estimable woman, and I keep 
 out of society as well as I can, and make no friends. 
 These people have isolated me, in my fears, almost
 
 aynard's koost. 193 
 
 from my kind," he said. " I do not know in whom to 
 trust, though I am of a trustful nature ; whom to call 
 my friend, lest he should side against me for a hea^ y 
 bribe. I am always on the alert, Delancy," he said, in 
 a husky whisper ; " these spies dog my steps so inces- 
 santly, that there are times when I believe that I am 
 verily mad, or when I fancy that they will drive 
 me mad by their cruel pertinacity. Well, that idea 
 has become stronger of late, and I come here more 
 often. Here I can study and drive that horrid thought 
 away, keeping off the glare of the sun by the gi'een 
 glass there, and the cold stare of the moon at me on 
 such nights as these. Here I think of Clara Burlinson, 
 and of ray great love for her — a love," he added, 
 with strange tears suddenly swimming in his eyes, 
 " that has even held back from her lest I should mar 
 her life in lieu of gladdening it. She does not under- 
 stand that, and her brother, who is a man of the world 
 with no ideality, thinks that I do not love her so well, 
 when I am only fighting for her sake not my own, 
 to give her up. I had almost fancied that I was 
 resigned to losing her like this, until you came to- 
 night to rouse my jealousy. And you do not love her, 
 Delancy !" 
 
 *•' No." 
 
 " How could you ever shake her so completely from 
 your heart ? The woman to whom you were engaged 
 to be married." 
 
 VOL I. o
 
 194 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 '* That shaking process goes on every day, I believe." 
 
 " I could never do it, even if she had loved you, 
 Delancy," he said ; " even if she had jilted me, I must 
 have loved her; though I had killed her as Othello 
 killed his wife. Do you understand me ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think so." 
 
 " Do you understand the love that could give her 
 up — that love of which I spoke just now — because it 
 was better, safer for her, than to trust herself with 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes. That is a love which I would consider more 
 in your case." 
 
 " Why ?" was the sharp question here. 
 
 " You are a studious man, and she is a woman 
 of fashion ; you are averse to society, she, like her 
 brother, is fond of it." 
 
 " I know all that ; but if she love me she will think 
 of my wishes a httle in return for my thinking of hers 
 a great deal. I — I will go into society when she is 
 very anxious to enter it, and she will stay away when 
 she sees that I am not able to encounter it. I will tell 
 her everything, and leave her to accept or reject me. I 
 think that even now, though I have had hopes and she 
 has given me them, that she will not have me at the 
 last. There are times when she seems afraid of me ; 
 and yet she can see, she must know, that she would 
 have no more faithful slave than I." 
 
 " You are a man ; and a man should feel himself
 
 aynard's roost. 195 
 
 strong enough to resist any disappointment which a 
 woman's versatility may entail on him." 
 
 " I am a child sometimes. You cannot tell how 
 weak I am — how poor a wretch I become." 
 
 He leaned his elbows on his knees, took his head 
 between his hands, and moaned. Delancy regarded him 
 with a pitying interest, but he thought of Clara Burlin- 
 son as this man's wife, and feared for both of them. He 
 could not, in justice to his old love, let her marry this 
 man without a warning to her — a weak being, who 
 might be governed by his affections perhaps, but wholly 
 unsuited to be Clara's husband ; and a man with those 
 affections disregarded, who would be very dangerous. 
 He was not sorry that he was at Aynard's Roost ; he 
 had obtained an insight into the Ajmard character, and 
 the fair woman whom he had once loved must learn 
 from him what he thought of the man who sat before 
 him weeping there. 
 
 Delancy was a man of great tact, it was evident. 
 He made no effort to bring round Aynard to a lighter 
 train of thought, but he rose, opened the piano, ran his 
 fingers over the keys, struck a few chords here and 
 there, and finally played a sacred piece from Handel 
 with such power and effect, that Hugh A}Tiard dried 
 his eyes and looked round at the player. Finally, 
 Aynard rose and stood at his side, as he had done after 
 dinner in Markham's Hotel, listening spell-bound till 
 its conclusion.
 
 196 
 
 " You must come to Thirby Cross, and try the organ 
 in a little chapel that we have there — my ancestors 
 were Roman Catholics, and built an oratory in the 
 grounds — a small organ, but of exquisite sound, that 
 will please you much, and that will please me more to 
 hear you. Delancy," he said, laying his hand gently 
 on our hero's shoulder, "would it not be a strange 
 thing if you and I were to become great friends? If 
 you understood me as I should be understood, and I 
 could feel towards you as though you were a brother of 
 mine — feel safe at your side, and that you were always 
 a friend to stand by me ? It would be a strange end 
 to a strange beginning of our acquaintance — wonder- 
 fully strange." 
 
 *' I agree with you there." 
 
 " When I was inclined to tilt the boat over, as we 
 swung round the buoy — tempted by the devil to end 
 both our lives, mayhap— a something within me said, 
 'Wait a bit ; that's a face which you should tr}' 
 and like.' And I tried to like it, till the evil thought 
 came uppermost again. You might have remarked a 
 slight change in my manner now and then ?" 
 
 " A slight change possibly," said Delancy. " Will 
 you play over that composition of yours again, now 
 that I can devote more attention to it ?" 
 
 " I shall be tiring you," said Aynard, irresolutely. 
 " I — no, I'll not play to-night, and after you too. I'll 
 not weary my guest, though he's a guest here against
 
 ayxard's roost. 197 
 
 his will. Shall we sit down again and talk, or do you 
 think that you can go to sleep on that couch ?" 
 
 " I'll sit here and sleep, if you please." 
 
 •' Then I'll not disturb you. Will you have another 
 cigar ?' 
 
 " No, thank you." 
 
 '• You will not mind me smoking again, I hope ? It 
 soothes me, alw^ays." 
 
 " Then smoke by all means, Aynard." 
 
 Aynard looked at his watch. 
 
 " Half-past three. No wonder that you are drowsy. 
 I'll not say another word, Ned." 
 
 Delancy had some difficulty in repressing a smile at 
 the friendly tone which Aynard had recently assumed, 
 although he was not disposed to hold Hugh Aynard, 
 even in his own mind, up to ridicule. He felt already, 
 and despite his incarceration, a great pity for the man ; 
 and he wondered whether he would become utterly a 
 wTeck, or, in careful hands, and under the supervision 
 of true friends, assume more the phases of the common 
 humanity of which he was suspicious. He sat and 
 watched him as he smoked his cigar and stared at the 
 fitful fire before him, thinking of Clara, who might 
 have the courage to marry him, and of the brother 
 George, who evidently wanted to see them man and 
 wife. Then he tried to sleep after awhile, having a 
 greater confidence in his companion than past cir- 
 cumstances might have warranted — feeling, strangely
 
 198 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 enough, that he could trust this Ayiiard, and that he 
 had already a power over him to sway his best emo- 
 tions. But he w^as intensely wakeful, and Hugh 
 Aynard went off to sleep long before him, with a half- 
 consumed cigar in his hand, and his long hair hanging 
 over his forehead as he bent his head towards the 
 tire-grate, where the coals were becoming black and 
 cavernous from inattention. 
 
 It was at this man that he gazed when the early 
 daylight came upon them, and the painted glass gave 
 them both a ghastly look, like dead figures. Aynard 
 was the last thing in his thoughts as he dozed off at 
 last, and dreamt that they were swinging round the 
 top-shaped buoy, he thinking of Clara Burlinson and 
 his mother as death looked him for a moment in the 
 face again.
 
 199 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SUDDEN RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 When Anne Judge went down to her early breakfast, 
 on the morning following the night wherein Lady Bur- 
 linson had offered her a glimpse of a new life, she found 
 her aunt sitting at the table pen in hand, musing over 
 a sheet of paper on which had been already inscribed a 
 few lines. 
 
 " I am writing to your father," she said, without re- 
 sponding to her niece's good-morning. " Have you 
 anything to add ?" 
 
 *' To my father ? — about Lady Burlinson ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I thought you said that you would not influence 
 him by a word," said Anne, a little indignantly. 
 
 " I am not seeking to influence him," she said. " I 
 am simply giving him the information which we have 
 received, without comment in any way." 
 
 " I intended to write myself. I think, aunt, that you 
 were aware of that ?"
 
 200 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " I should not have written had I not other news to 
 communicate," was the cold reply — " news which, after 
 all, I had better keep to myself, for it can do no good, 
 and harm may ensue from it. There," crumpling up 
 the letter, and flinging it with an angry hand into the 
 fire, where it blazed away into nothingness ; " I leave 
 the matter in your own hands. I will not interfere in 
 any way after this reproof." 
 
 " I will write to my father this afternoon." 
 
 " As you please." 
 
 Mary Judge was very cold in her demeanour to her 
 niece; she resented the niece's interference with her 
 plans as she had resented last night — although Anne 
 had scarcely perceived that — the wish to get away from 
 her. Mary Judge was even more gloomy than her 
 wont, and the girl thought, with a swelling heart, that 
 it was time for her to change her home now the 
 father's sister had tired of her. In her own judg- 
 ment — and she was a girl whom necessity had taught 
 to think for herself early in life — it would be better for 
 them to part ; her aunt would have surely expressed 
 a wish for her to stay, had she not seen that it was 
 better also. She did not take into consideration that 
 Aunt Judge was of a reticent disposition — a woman 
 who never spoke out — a woman who waited fqr others 
 to speak also, strong in her pride, and proud of her 
 inflexibility. 
 
 Therefore these two, after the fashion of folk who
 
 SUDDEN RESOLUTIONS. 201 
 
 jump at conclusions, had each to reflect upon the con- 
 duct of the other. Anne felt assured that she was an 
 encumbrance to her aunt, and that her aunt wished her 
 to be gone ; and Mary Judge read in Anne only the 
 girl's anxiety to seek a brighter sphere and forget her 
 \\'ith whom she had lived as speedily as possible. And 
 it was natural after all that Anne, troubled by these 
 doubts, should have a secret wish to change her con- 
 dition of life ; natural for her own sake as well as her 
 father's. The phlegmatic woman had depressed her in 
 no small degree, quenched a gi^eat deal of youth's bright- 
 ness and lightness from her. Anne did not understand 
 her aunt, but she thought that the titled lady was easy 
 of comprehension, and would do all in her power to 
 make her happy. Still it was a struggle to think of 
 going away, and had that immobile face before her 
 changed during the morning, she would have hesitated 
 even yet. But the pillow-lace had been commenced 
 again, and Clotho with her distaff could not have more 
 grimly spun the thread of life than Mary Judge have 
 worked her bobbins. 
 
 Once a thought crossed Anne that her aunt was 
 offended with her for thinking of the life apart from 
 her, and that that offence might mask an affection which 
 the aunt possessed after all. 
 
 This led Anne to speak at once. It was close upon 
 twelve o'clock then, she knew, by the sunlight on the 
 wall.
 
 202 AXNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Aunt, you think that I slight you by thinking of 
 this project— that I am not grateful for all that you 
 have done for me ?" 
 
 " Child," was the sharp reply, " I am not thinking 
 of you." 
 
 Anne retreated into herself, and applied herself as 
 diligently to her pillow-lace as the woman who sat before 
 her. But the woman had been disturbed from a reverie 
 in which that early morning's adventure had absorbed 
 her — that adventure of which her niece knew nothing: — 
 and after a few minutes' silence she startled Anne by a 
 question. 
 
 " What is the name of Lady Burlinson's brother, did 
 you say ?" 
 
 " Day." 
 
 " Doctor Day, is he not ? — a physician in London ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It is not likely, but one cannot be too cautious," 
 she said to herself, suddenly putting asi 'e her pillow, 
 taking her bonnet and shawl from a nail in the wall, 
 and tying her ribbons under her chin with rapid and 
 decisive jerks. 
 
 ^•' Going out ?" asked Anne. 
 
 " Yes, for a little while — marketing." 
 
 She sallied forth from the house at once, and in great 
 haste — a woman fraught with a new suspicion. She 
 walked along the footpath rapidly, taking man-like 
 strides, and looking in the bright daylight, where we
 
 SUDDEN RESOLUTIOXS. 203 
 
 have caught Mary Judge for the first time, more hard- 
 featured and more masculine than ever. The row of 
 cottages in which the Backwater people resided was 
 soon reached ; and, as those Backwater folk appeared 
 never to be at work, or to do anything but nurse their 
 penury, there were half a dozen men with short pipes 
 which no poverty could put out, and about twice that 
 number of women and children, hanging round their 
 doors, and out of their open windows as she passed. 
 
 They were civil people enough ; one or two of them 
 inclined to regard the passer-by with a reverential awe, 
 as a woman who worked day and night, and knew 
 not a moment's idleness — as a woman whom it was a 
 marvel to see at that hour of the morning. 
 
 " Good-morning, marm," was said more than once, 
 and "a brave, bright morning," remarked one more 
 enthusiastic and poetical than the rest; but Mary 
 Judge scarcely bent her head by way of response, and 
 one woman insisted that she sniffed at them as she 
 passed. 
 
 " A purse-proud minx," she added, when Mary Judge 
 was out of hearing, *' who lords it over us because she 
 gets plenty of vvork to do, and has not time to give a 
 civil answer to a body. I wonder what she is, to make 
 herself so scarce, living amongst us as she does ?" 
 
 Mary Judge left her to wonder ; she was soon in the 
 High Street; making for the Parade, turning presently 
 to the right away from the Parade, and striding on
 
 204 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 towards Markham's Hotel, which she reached at last, 
 and went up the entrance steps without pausing for an 
 instant's reflection, like a woman whose mind was made 
 up, and whose time was valuable. 
 
 "Can I see Doctor Day?" she asked of the first 
 lackey who appeared in the hall, and responded to a 
 very impatient rapping with her knuckles against the 
 wainscot. " Is he at home ?" 
 
 " Yes, he's at home, I think. What name ?" 
 
 She put her hand to her mouth to reflect for an 
 instant. 
 
 *' It does not matter about my name. Tell him that 
 it is business of great importance." 
 
 The servant departed, believing that the business was 
 tooth-ache, and returned a few minutes afterwards with 
 the request that the lady would be good enough to step 
 into the drawing-room. Mary Judge went up-stairs 
 two at a time, and nearly tripped up the young man in 
 advance of her, who had just time to reach the drawing- 
 room door before she ran him down. 
 
 " This room ?" she said, impatiently. 
 
 " Yes, this room." 
 
 He opened the door for her, and she passed at once 
 into the room, where a short, sallow-faced man was 
 sitting, with some letters in his hands. He rose politely 
 as she entered, for there was something of the lady left 
 in Mary Judge still, for all her poor habiliments and 
 hard features.
 
 SUDDEN RESOLUTIONS. 205 
 
 ** You are Doctor Day ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, madam, I am Doctor Day." 
 
 "Then I need not detain you," she said. *'I am 
 here under a wrong and painful impression, for which I 
 apologize." 
 
 The gentleman bowed. 
 
 Mary Judge had reached the door again, when a 
 second thought stopped her progress outwards. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with a gentleman in your pro- 
 fession of the name of Seymour ?" 
 
 The gentleman addressed tapped his chin once or 
 twice with the letters that he held in his hand. 
 
 " Seymour — Seymour," he said, thoughtfully, " I do 
 not recollect the name." 
 
 " Thank you," said Mary Judge ; then she went out 
 of the drawing-room, and closed the door behind her. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later she was at the Backwater 
 again, struggling with the door of her cottage, and 
 endeavouring in vain to force her way in. 
 
 " Why, it must be locked," she said, as she desisted 
 at last, and stood there panting for breath. 
 
 At this crisis a little curly-headed and bullet-headed 
 boy reached her side, panting also with the haste that 
 he had made to overtake her. 
 
 "If you please. Miss Judge, here's the key." 
 
 " The key !" ejaculated Mary Judge, taking it from 
 the little hand with astonishment. " Who gave it you, 
 Billy? Where's Anne ?"
 
 206 
 
 " Anne left it at mother's cottage — she knew it was 
 safe with mother, she said, till you came back." 
 
 " And Anne — is she not at work ? Is she not " 
 
 Then she made a dash at the door, in her haste to 
 elucidate the mystery for herself, and after a second 
 struggle was in the room, and looking at a paper on 
 the table. 
 
 " The key to the riddle, I suppose — the reason for 
 that foolish impetuosity which is so like her mother's," 
 she said ; then she took off her bonnet and shawl, hung 
 them upon a nail, turned little Billy out of the house, 
 shut the door upon him, sat down, took her pillow in 
 her lap, and then reached her hand out for the letter, 
 which she opened slowly and deliberately, like a woman 
 who had made up her mind not to be excited by it. 
 There were a few hasty lines scrawled in lead pencil on 
 the inside. 
 
 " Mr. Gravat is going in his cart as far as Thirby 
 Cross. Thence I shall walk on to Wolchester and 
 tell papa all the news. — Anne Judge." 
 
 Aunt Mary did not begin her pillow-lace for another 
 hour after receiving this intelligence.
 
 207 
 
 * CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ANNE STARTS FOE WOLCHESTER. 
 
 Mr. Gravat, whose name has been mentioned in Anne 
 Judge's epistle to her aunt, was a carrier, who plied his 
 vocation twice a week between Thirby Cross and 
 llpham-on-the-Cliff, and who saw that goods properly 
 addressed — about which he was very particular — were 
 forwarded from Thirby Cross to Wolchester by his son, 
 also a carrier by profession when there was anything 
 to carry. 
 
 Mr. Gravat was accustomed to receive small parcels 
 from the Judges, aunt and niece, and to undertake 
 their proper despatch to Wolchester — parcels of lace 
 to a wholesale house, whence Mary Judge looked for 
 support, together with larger parcels addressed to a 
 Mr. John Judge, care of Mr. Abel Smith, Nineteen 
 and a Half, Primrose Street, Wolchester — parcels 
 which he noticed were always given him by the elder 
 woman, Snd brought round late at night to his little 
 oflfice in the High Street.
 
 208 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 Mr. Gravat was a good-tempered man, and a man 
 anxious for business; and passing within a hundred 
 feet of the Backwater by a road somewhat disused, 
 which led into the main road further on, and was a 
 short cut to Thirby Cross, he condescended to leave 
 his horse and goods, and run over to the Judges* habi- 
 tation to inquire if there were any orders for him. 
 
 There he found Anne Judge writing very busily, 
 deep in the concoction of a long and laborious epistle, 
 which she was composing for the father whom she had 
 seen yesterday, and which epistle perplexed her very 
 much, there being a great deal to explain, and to set 
 in its best light. 
 
 " No, there's nothing to send to Wolchester to-day, 
 thank you, Mr. Gravat," she said, as the carrier looked 
 in at the door. " Unless you can send me with care 
 and despatch." 
 
 The carrier, who was as deaf as a beetle, put his 
 hand to his ear, and requested that Anne would " speak 
 a little louder," and Anne repeated her half wish in a 
 higher key, and thus more forcibly impressed herself as 
 well as him with the idea. 
 
 " We could do that, I dare say," he answered cheer- 
 fully ; " and glad of carrying nice goods with us." 
 
 " You go direct to Wolchester to-day, Mr. Gravat ?" 
 
 " Atween us — me and my son — who waits for me at 
 Thirby Cross." 
 
 " If you will take me I will go," said Anne, looking
 
 AXXE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 209 
 
 up quickly. " I wish very much to see ray father. I 
 don't feel that I can stay in- doors to-day — or wait 
 two or three days for his answer, and then find that he 
 does not quite understand me ; tiiinks, perhaps, like my 
 aunt, that I wish to go further away from him, instead 
 of nearer with every step I take. Yes, I'll go with 
 you as far as Thirby Cross," she said, raising her voice 
 again, " and with your son as far as Wolchester." 
 
 "He doesn't always wait for me," said Mr. Gravat, 
 with a shake of his head over the unfilial habits of 
 Gravat, Junior. "When he has other goods which 
 must catch the London trains — which is not often — 
 he won't stop." 
 
 " I'll go with you," cried Anne. " I feel that I must 
 go — must act for myself in this," she added. 
 
 She dashed otF the lines which the reader has perused 
 at the end of our last chapter, and two minutes after- 
 wards was outside her home equipped for her journey, 
 and giving the key to Billy's mother — a woman whom 
 she could trust — before stepping into the carrier's cart 
 that waited for her before Billy's mother's house. 
 
 It was not till she was some distance on her journey 
 that she almost repented of her rashness, and thought 
 more seriously of the step upon which she had so 
 quickly resolved. What would Aunt Judge think of 
 this ? — what would her father think ? Well, Aunt 
 Judge would be very cross when she returned, althougli 
 she could not blame her for neglecting her workj for 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 she had caught that up at the last moment, and there 
 she was, with her pillow and bobbins, as busy as a bee 
 at Mr. Gravat's side. Aunt Judge would lecture her 
 when she returned upon the rash imprudence of her 
 steps, and whither they would eventually lead her if she 
 went on thus recklessly ; but as Aunt Judge lectured 
 a great deal upon the proprieties in off moments, when 
 not too full of thought, the infliction would .not be out 
 of the common way, and she would be none the worse 
 for it. And what would her father say ? Oh, she knew 
 what he would say — and her face brightened up with 
 that knowledge at once : he would express his astonish- 
 ment, hope that she had done nothing to alarm or ofl^end 
 her aunt, and then catch her to his breast and kiss her 
 many times. He would hsten patiently to her story, as 
 he always listened patiently to her, and see the facts in 
 the same light as herself, not through the distorted 
 medium of her aunt's suspicions. He would see that 
 she, Anne Judge, would earn more money as companion 
 to a lady, and that, being able to save — oh, ever so 
 much! — from her salary, she would be advancing 
 nearer to him with every day, and bringing closer that 
 happy time when there should be no more cares for him, 
 and no more separation for either of them. Yes, it 
 was so much better that she should see him herself — 
 and he, dear old fellow ! how his eyes would widen, 
 and his sad-looking face light up at the sight of her 
 from whom he was resigned to living apart for the next
 
 ANNE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 211 
 
 three months. He would not have quite settled down 
 to this, and he would be thinking of yesterday morning 
 and of all the Sunday wherein they had been together, 
 when she would dash in upon him like a sunshine from 
 which he had fancied himself shut out. 
 
 These thoughts, and thoughts like these — for she 
 put them in various shapes and under different aspects, 
 although the same lovino: tone ran throu<Th them and 
 pervaded them — that tone which comes direct from the 
 heart — kept her silent nearly all the way to Thirby 
 Cross. 
 
 It was six miles to Thirby Cross, and though the load 
 was light, the horse was as old and methodical as his 
 master, and no more inclined to be hurried than his 
 master was disposed to hurry him. Anne Judge was 
 not impatient, now that she was fairly on her journey. 
 Her deep thoughts and her busy hands led her to take 
 but little note of time, or of the slow progress that 
 she was making ; she was happy in the novelty of her 
 expedition, and, Aunt Judge once dismissed from her 
 mind, there was no shadow between her and the present. 
 She took no heed of the country, which after awhile, 
 and when they had left the road which wound for a 
 considerable distance round the Backwater, became 
 more fertile, and was soon bright with meadow-land, 
 and gay with golden com and scarlet poppy — the latter 
 very prohfic, and a bad sign for the land, but adding 
 greatly to the general effect.
 
 212 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 *• They're beginning to cut over yonder," said Mr. 
 Gravat, desisting from cutting himself at innumerable 
 flies which buzzed about his horse's ears, in order that 
 he might point with his whip to the spot to which he 
 referred, " and that always seems to me like cutting off 
 the summer, miss. Dashed if we shan't have autumn 
 on us before we knows it, now." 
 
 " I shall not care much for that." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 ** I shall not care much for that," Anne repeated, in 
 a louder key. 
 
 " No, I s'pose not. The young can put up with short 
 days, cold weather — anything, whilst we old uns double 
 up and pray for summer back — longer days and lots o' 
 work in 'em." 
 
 He looked almost reproachfully at the reapers in 
 the distance, as though they were in conspiracy against 
 the carrying business ; then turned his attention to the 
 flies, and spoke no more till Thirby Cross was reached^ 
 and Anne Judge had packed up her pillow and lace. 
 
 A quaint old village was Thirby Cross, with its 
 cottage-roofs of ancient thatch that seemed trailing its 
 way into the road by degrees — a grass-grown road, 
 plentifully sprinkled that summer's afternoon with 
 chickens which clucked about the carrier's wheels, and 
 were not put out at all by the arrivals. A village that 
 was too old and sleepy for any excitement on the part 
 of its inhabitants, and which seemed to possess only
 
 ANNE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 213 
 
 two bow-legged infants by way of population, who 
 stood with their pinafores in their mouths watching the 
 carrier assist Anne Judge to dismount, and receive her 
 shillinof as his leo^al fare. A third inhabitant, in a 
 leather apron, and with a hammer in his hand, turned 
 out of his smithy, however, and roared forth his saluta- 
 tion. 
 
 '' How are you, Richard Gravat ?" 
 
 " Hearty, thank 'ee — hearty." 
 
 " Your lad's been gone this half-hour. He said that 
 he wouldn't wait another minute for forty fathers, if 
 they were all as slow as you are." 
 
 "Ah, that's like him," said Mr. Gravat, after a 
 moment's reflection of the sunlit road. " Wilt 'ee have 
 some beer?" 
 
 " Ay, I don't mind gin I do." 
 
 The two men were marching off, when the carrier 
 remembered his charge. 
 
 "How'll 'ee get to Wolchester?" 
 
 " Walk, to be sure," said Anne. " It's only seven 
 miles after all, and seven miles are not likely to daunt 
 me. Will you tell my aunt, please, when you go back 
 to-night, not to be alarmed if I return not, but that I 
 will come back if I can — if I spend all the pocket- 
 money that my father gave me yesterday," she added 
 to herself. 
 
 After some difficulty in making old Gravat hear and 
 understand these instructions, Anne Judge bade him
 
 214 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 good-morning, and departed on her way. It was three 
 in the afternoon, and she calculated that, if she flagged 
 not, she should reach Wolchester by half-past five. 
 That would leave her only an hour to find her father, if 
 she wished to come back by the cart of Mr. Gravat, 
 Junior, who was a punctual man, and left town for 
 Thirby Cross at half-past six, waiting for no man, as 
 his father knew. She would prefer to reach the Back- 
 water again that evening, she thought, lest Aunt Judge 
 should say that she had been glad to idle time away 
 from her. 
 
 Anne stepped briskly forwards, remembering that she 
 had had nothinor since her breakfast before she was 
 quite out of the village, and pausing to consider whether 
 she should buy anything or not. 
 
 " That will be the first thing that he will ask me, and 
 then he will fancy that I am neglecting my health, and 
 worry himself about me for the rest of the week. I 
 will buy some biscuits and get some milk here." 
 
 Anne Judge went a few steps back in the direction 
 of a cottage that she had passed, and in the little 
 parlour-window of which she had observed a hetero- 
 geneous collection of loaves, tapes, sweetstuff", and 
 scrubbing-brushes, with a square piece of black wood 
 in one corner of the shop-front, and on which Y. K. 
 and Post-office were written. She turned towards this 
 shop again, and became aware that a woman in a barege 
 shawl and grey merino dress had been looking after
 
 ANNE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 215 
 
 her intently, and leaning over the rickety fence in her 
 anxiety to obtain a glimpse of her. This woman backed 
 as Anne approached, and went slowly into the shop, 
 glancing nervously over her shoulder as our heroine 
 advanced. When they were in the shop together, the 
 woman took up a gaudy show-card, with '^ Wilson's 
 Honey Soap, Wolchester," inscribed upon it, and 
 feigning to be deep in admiration thereof, turned her 
 back upon Anne Judge. 
 
 The shopkeeper — an old woman in spectacles — was 
 ready behind the counter to supply the demands of her 
 new customers, so far as it lay within her power. 
 
 She had no milk to sell, she said, in answer to Anne's 
 inquiry, but there were biscuits in any quantity, and 
 evidently of all degrees of hardness and grittiness, the 
 demand for biscuits not being great at Thirby Cross. 
 
 Anne bought her biscuits, shook her head at the 
 mention of ginger-beer, and was preparing to depart, 
 when a post-office notice labelled against a tea-canister 
 suggested an idea to her. 
 
 " The post leaves here at what hour ?" she asked. 
 
 ** Half-past four for London." 
 
 " And for Ilpham ?" 
 
 ** Yes." 
 
 " llpham letters would be delivered to-night — cross 
 country letters ?" 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 " Then I had better write to Aunt Judge, and not
 
 216 AN^'E JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 trust whoHy to Mr. Gravat," said Anne to herself* 
 " Please give me pen and ink and paper," she said, in 
 a louder tone, "for I have a great way to go, and 
 time is valuable to me." 
 
 She sat down, put her bundle on the counter, and 
 when her stationery requirements were before her, 
 dashed off a letter to her aunt, beofmno^ her not to 
 be alarmed if she were detained at Wolckester that 
 night, and to be assured that she was not losing time, 
 having taken all her work with her. She was in a 
 great hurry, but she found time to add that she hoped 
 Aunt Judge would not feel any displeasure at the 
 sudden step upon which she had resolved ; for she felt 
 that she was acting rightly in seeing her father for 
 herself on the important subject of a change in life. 
 
 She signed her letter, and, looking up suddenly, was 
 somewhat startled to find a face peering over her 
 shoulder, and deeply interested in every word that she 
 had written. 
 
 "I — I beg your pardon," said the lady, retreating 
 very quickly, " I was admiring your handwriting, which 
 is an uncommon one for these parts. A very bold and 
 decisive hand for a lady, I might add." 
 
 "My father was my writing master, madam, in the 
 latter years of my childhood, and perhaps I have fallen 
 a little too much into his style to be wholly feminine," 
 she answered, as she folded her letter, sealed her 
 envelope, and addressed it.
 
 ANNE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 217 
 
 " You will want a stamp," said the postmistress. 
 
 " Oh dear, yes." And then Anne Judge thought of 
 the expression of horror that would have sprung to her 
 aunt's face that evening, at receiving a missive for 
 which twopence was demanded. 
 
 The letter duly stamped and left with the shopkeeper, 
 Anne Judge was ready to depart. 
 
 " You will send those things up to the house to- 
 night," she heard the lady say who had been interested 
 in her handwriting. 
 
 " You may depend upon them, Mrs. Holmes," said 
 the shopkeeper, in her most obsequious tones, '*' and 
 thank you very much." 
 
 " Good-afternoon." 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Mrs. Holmes, and thank you 
 ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Holmes hurried out of the shop, taking pre- 
 cedence somewhat rudely of Anne Judge, who was in 
 the doorway, with her pillow under her arm'again. A 
 rude woman altogether, was Anne Judge's verdict on 
 that lady, as she followed the grey merino out of the 
 front garden and along the one road that led direct to 
 Wolchester, or she would have never tried to look over 
 her shoulder at the letter. Anne ate one of her 
 biscuits as she walked, and kept almost unconsciously 
 Mrs. Holmes in view. She had begun a second biscuit 
 when Mrs. Holmes looked over her shoulder at her, 
 stopped abruptly, went on again, and stopped again.
 
 218 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 Anne Judge was a self-possessed girl for her age, but 
 the woman's manner was singular and perplexed her. 
 The first idea was that there was an intention to 
 make off with her pillow and lace, until she remem- 
 bered that the shopkeeper knew the lady, and had 
 treated her with no small deference. The stranger 
 waited till Anne Judge was close upon her, and then 
 Anne looked for the first time intently at her, and saw 
 that she was a woman of middle age almost, with a 
 pale and worn face, and with large brown eyes, that 
 turned away from the steady gaze directed at her. 
 
 " Is not your name Judge ?" asked the lady, as she 
 came up with her. 
 
 " Yes, that is my name." 
 
 " I have seen you before in Ilpham. You live at the 
 Backwater ?" 
 
 Anne answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " I go to Ilpham at times — therefore you see," with 
 a strange, forced smile, " that we are not entirely 
 strangers." 
 
 Anne did not see quite so much as that, but she did 
 not contradict the lady who addressed her. 
 
 " You appear to be setting out on a long journey, 
 and you are very young to take long journeys," she 
 said, keeping step with Anne now, and not wholly to 
 Anne Judge's satisfaction. 
 
 '*I am going to Wolchester, to see my father on 
 business."
 
 ANNE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 219 
 
 " Not to stay there for good ?" 
 
 Anne thought the lady might have guessed that 
 from her letter, which she had taken the liberty of 
 reading over her shoulder, but she answered, " Oh no, 
 not for good." 
 
 " You were afraid that your aunt would be alarmed 
 at your stay there to-night, and that is why you wrote to 
 her. You must be very fond of your aunt. Miss Judge, 
 to take all that trouble in the middle of your journey." 
 
 " I have but her to be fond of at home, now," replied 
 Anne, with a half sigh ; and thinking that her little 
 differences with Aunt Judge were not to be mentioned 
 to this lady, who had thus unceremoniously obtruded 
 herself upon her notice. 
 
 " Your father — he — he lives at Wolchester ?^' 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " And a good father to you, of course. Fathers 
 should be always good and kind, and watchful of their 
 little ones." 
 
 *' And mothers too," added Anne, with greater 
 gravity. 
 
 " Ah ! and mothers too. Miss Judge. The mothers 
 are always first in children's hearts, I believe, although 
 I have never been a mother myself, and know nothing 
 of children. Your mother now " 
 
 " She's dead, madam," said Anne Judge, severely. 
 
 " Dead ! poor thing. Dead, did you say ?" 
 
 " Yes — completely dead."
 
 220 
 
 Mrs. Holmes walked on in silence for several minutes, 
 and Anne, as though her heart had become suddenly 
 full, tossed her biscuit into the hedgerow. 
 
 "You are young, even yet, to lose a mother," said 
 Mrs. Holmes, suddenly. " How you must have missed 
 her, dear, all your girl's life !" 
 
 " No, I never missed her," said Anne in reply. " She 
 went — she died too early for me to miss,* and there 
 was my good father to be like father and mother to 
 me, so gentle and careful was he, and so anxious that I 
 should never miss her. Please don't talk of this, ma'am, 
 — I don't like it!" she added, with an abruptness that 
 almost brought the woman to a full stop, and left Anne 
 Judge to go on alone. 
 
 Mrs. Holmes was at her side almost immediately. 
 
 " I was wrong, of course," she said, with that forced 
 smile which Anne had remarked once before. "You 
 must excuse me, Miss Judge, but I am a woman shut 
 up a great deal in a large house — a deserted house, in 
 fact — and with but little chance of conversation save 
 with servants there, or with ignorant people in the 
 village. I am housekeeper at Thirby Cross." 
 
 " At Thirby Cross?" 
 
 " At Mr. Aynard's house at Thirby Cross, I might 
 say more properly ; it is called Thirby Cross about 
 here. I have been housekeeper there for eight years, 
 and a very gloomy and depressing post it is," she added, 
 with a shudder.
 
 ANXE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 221 
 
 Anne did not reply to this ; she walked on more 
 assured that she was in respectable company, and more 
 disposed, possibly, to continue the conversation, and 
 relieve the monotony of her way. But Mrs. Holmes did 
 not address her again until the great gates opening 
 upon the Aynard estate and the lodgekeeper's house 
 were in sight. She plodded on with downward gaze, 
 more full of herself than her companion, thinking, 
 Anne fancied, of the hardness of her life that had con- 
 demned her to eight years of service in a half-deserted 
 house, and, at all events, thinking very deeply. 
 
 They reached the great gates at last — massive iron 
 gates, from which the paint had blistered long since, tind 
 which were red with rust in many places. The house 
 could not be seen from that point of view, or indeed 
 from any point of \iew upon the road to Wolchester ; it 
 lay so far back from the road, and was buried so com- 
 pletely in the elms, limes, and larches which grew luxu- 
 riantly there. The whole place resembled more the 
 approach to a forest than to a gentleman's mansion, and 
 only the lodgekeeper's house suggested human life. 
 Yes, a gloomy and depressing post at Thirby Cross, 
 the housekeeper was right enough, thought Anne — for 
 a more gloomy and depressing place she had never seen. 
 
 The lodgekeeper, an old man with a russet face and 
 bald head, was tugging at the gates as they approached, 
 seeking to open them with a difficulty that reminded 
 Anne of Aunt Judge's door at home.
 
 222 ANNE Judge, spinster. 
 
 " You will step in for a minute — into the lodge- 
 keeper's house, I mean ?" Mrs. Holmes said, suddenly. 
 
 '* No, thank you, I must keep on my journey. I have 
 not much time to spare." 
 
 "Yes, you have," was the flat contradiction here — 
 "all night, in fact." 
 
 " I must see my father before eight o'clock, for he 
 goes back to business at that hour, I know. I have 
 heard him tell my aunt so." 
 
 " l^ou were thirsty in the village ; we have some milk 
 and " 
 
 "No, thank you," said Anne, quickly. "I am not 
 thirsty now." 
 
 " Have the milk out here, then, if you are too proud 
 to enter the house of a stranger," she said, angrily. 
 " GriflSn, you have some milk at the lodge ?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. One minute, if you please. The 
 company's going away, and will not stop to dinner. 
 He's going to drive home in the gig, and I'm to open 
 the gates directly, Peter says." 
 
 *' Get the milk at once, I insist. The girl will not 
 stop without," she said, impatiently. 
 
 " One moment, Mrs. Holmes," was the reply, uttered 
 in as impatient a tone as the last speaker's. " You 
 know how master swears and goes on when he has to 
 wait for these creaky, nasty gates." 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Mrs. Holmes," said Anne. " I 
 really cannot drink any milk now."
 
 AXXE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 223 
 
 " You really will not, you mean !'* 
 
 " Well, then, I will not, really," said Anne, with a 
 smile. " Good-afternoon again." 
 
 *' Stay a moment," cried the woman ; " don't be so 
 firm as this. Who taught you to have such a will as 
 this at your age ?" 
 
 A merry little laugh escaped Anne at this questioa 
 
 " I don't know. I don't think that I am very firm ; 
 but I cannot drink any milk." 
 
 " Very well — very well ; I'll not ask you any more. 
 Good-afternoon." 
 
 Once more Anne said good-afternoon, and then went 
 upon her way, thankful to be rid of the company of 
 the housekeeper, and not envying the servants over 
 whom she ruled at Thirby Cross. xA.nne did not look 
 behind her as she hastened onw^ards, or she would have 
 seen Mrs. Holmes -still watchino^ her — watchino: her till 
 the curve of the road took her from view, when she 
 clasped her gloved hands together, and shook them for 
 an instant in the air, greatly to the astonishment of 
 Mr. GriflBn, who, having . opened the gates, was at her 
 service. 
 
 " Is anything the matter, Mrs. Holmes ?" he asked. 
 
 " What business is it of yours, if there is ?" she re- 
 joined, with a sharpness that took Mr. Griffin's breath 
 away. 
 
 "Oh, no business of mine, sartinly, ma'am — no 
 offence. Here's the company."
 
 224 ANXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 Housekeeper and lodgekeeper stood back as a light 
 chaise came rattling along the grass-grown carriage- 
 drive — a chaise drawn by a powerful mare, which was 
 pulled up at the gates to allow Mr. Hugh Aynard to 
 alight. 
 
 Mr. Aynard nodded as the housekeeper curtseyed 
 to him, and then leaned his hands on the shaft and 
 looked up at the occupant remaining — no less a 
 personage than Edmund Delancy, of Four, Prospect 
 Terrace, Ilpham. 
 
 " I wish that you had stayed to dinner with me, 
 Ned, I have so many things to show you — so many 
 more things to talk about." 
 
 " Another time, Hugh," answered our hero ; " for 
 I have half a hundred things to do at home. Why, 
 I have not found time to unpack and settle down 
 yet. My landlady too — she will think that I am off 
 skylarking again, if I do not turn up at a reasonable 
 hour." 
 
 "I sent to her, at your request, directly we got 
 across here from the boat-house," said Aynard. " She 
 knows where you are." 
 
 " And that I am in good hands." 
 
 " You must have stopped at the Eoost, you know," 
 said Aynard, still entreatingly. 
 
 " Yes, if it had not been for the wind changing 
 and the tide coming in," said Delancy. " That was a 
 glorious row across, and a lucky wind for us."
 
 ANNE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 225 
 
 *' I do not know that," said Hugh. " We were 
 beginning to understand each other there." 
 
 " And we will complete the knowledge on another 
 occasion. That is a promise." 
 
 " And you never break your promises — you told 
 Lady Burlinson that last Sunday." 
 
 " So I did. Now what shall I do with the mare and 
 trap which you have been kind enough to place at my 
 disposal ?" 
 
 " Leave them at the Gull Inn — they will be sent for 
 on Thursday." 
 
 " Very good. And now good-bye." 
 
 " One minute," said Aynard, " before I forget a 
 question which I wish to put to my housekeeper. Who 
 was that talking to you, Mrs. Holmes, as we came 
 along the drive ?" he asked, suspiciously. " What ! 
 am I watched again ? Cannot I remain here for a 
 single hour without strange people hovering about ?" 
 
 *• It was only a girl walking to Wolchester, Mr. 
 Aynard," explained Mrs. Holmes. 
 
 '* Ah, she said so to deceive you, perhaps," he said, 
 biting his finger-nails in his perplexity. 
 
 " It was Anne Judge, a lace-worker, from the Back- 
 water, on a journey to see her father." 
 
 " On a journey where ?" asked Delancy, breaking in 
 upon the dialogue. 
 
 " Her father lives at Wolchester, I believe," said 
 Mrs. Holmes, indifferently. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " I am glad that you know the girl," said Aynard, 
 relieved by his housekeeper's statement. "If there 
 had been spies about you would have stayed with us, 
 Ned, I am sure." 
 
 " Yes, if you had wished it, and I could have helped 
 you to kick a few of them. Well, good-bye, and thank 
 you for all your hospitality." 
 
 The two men looked into each other's- face and 
 laughed. They v/ere on good terms together, and 
 the trick played by one of them was not bitterly 
 remembered by the other, it was evident. 
 
 " Good-bye. I shall be in Ilpham on Thursday." 
 
 " Not before Thursday, then ?" 
 
 " I think not," was the answer. " I have a fancy to 
 get back to the Roost by the next tide. If the wind 
 keep in the same quarter, it might be managed easily." 
 
 " Oh, I would not do that," said Delancy. " I 
 would work here at my symphony a bit, if I were 
 you." 
 
 " Perhaps I will, then. Good-bye." 
 
 Then the two men parted, and Ned Delancy drove 
 away towards Ilpham-on-the-Cliff, thinking of the 
 strangeness of their new friendship, and of the new 
 interest which this Hugh Aynard had aroused in him. 
 
 " Poor fellow, in good hands something might yet 
 be made of him," said Delancy to himself; " but 
 in bad, what will be the result ?" 
 
 He thought of Hugh Aynard, and of the bad hands
 
 AXNE STARTS FOR WOLCHESTER. 227 
 
 into which he might fall, until he reached the village of 
 Thirby Cross, and then he suddenly remembered Anr.e 
 Judge, who, the housekeeper said, was on a journey to 
 see her father at Wolchester. To see her father, from 
 whom she had parted yesterday — that was strange, 
 too ; to walk from Ilpham to Wolchester— he knew 
 nothing of the carrier's lift by the way — a distance of 
 thirteen miles, and she not too strong after the illness 
 of which he had heard both her father and herself 
 speak. Assuredly there were eccentric people in all 
 directions in these parts — people that got on his mind 
 and perplexed him, and did not give him any time to 
 think of himself. 
 
 '' Now, if that girl were to break down by the way, 
 or be subject to fits like her disagreeable old parent," 
 he said, suddenly puUing up the thoroughbred which 
 Mr. Aynard had placed at his disposal, in order to 
 expedite his return to Ilpham, "she can never walk 
 thirteen miles, I'm sure. And here am I revelling in 
 a chaise and a high-stepper, which high-stepper I am 
 very glad I have in harness now, or he would certainly 
 have stepped with me into a ditch. Turn round, you 
 brute, and let us see if we cannot be of service to Anne 
 Judge for once. I wonder," he said, when he was 
 driving fast in the direction of Hugh Aynard's house 
 again, " if the old gentleman will object to this little 
 trouble on my part, or thank me very much when I 
 explain matters, and land Anne Judge on the paternal
 
 228 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 doorstep ? Ah, I dare say that he will object — that's 
 human nature — and think that I have done it on pur- 
 pose to irritate him after yesterday's warning. Not 
 that I would do that, poor old explosion," he said, 
 " although I do ' ride contrary,' my mother tells me 
 very often ; and it looks like riding contrary with 
 Anne Judge to Wolchester. Some people will never 
 look at things in their right light, poor 'creatures, 
 but that is their fault, not mine."
 
 229 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A LIFT ON THE EOAD. 
 
 AxNE Judge, glad to be rid of her inquisitive com- 
 panion, walked very rapidly towards Wolchester after 
 the little halt by the way at Thirby Cross. There was 
 no making up for lost time, Aunt Judge had told her 
 last night, but Anne went on as if she did not believe 
 that assertion — as if, somewhere beyond the brow of 
 that hill which she was now surmounting, the wasted 
 minutes might be overtaken. This was Egfo^d Hill, 
 where the landlord of the Gull Inn had suggested that 
 it was possible for the wind at times to blow over " the 
 husbands' coach ;" and here the wind, though far from 
 boisterous, met her full front, and brought the roses to 
 her cheeks. 
 
 She could see Wolchester from the brow of the hill, 
 looking a long distance ahead, but not too far to daunt 
 her — a mass of house-roof and church spire, with a 
 broad sweep of country on all sides of it, and a thread
 
 230 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER, 
 
 of silver gliding towards it through the fields and 
 glistening in the sunlight. 
 
 " How father would have enjoyed this view," mur- 
 mured the girl, on whose heart there seemed only to he 
 impressed the father's image yet awhile. " When we 
 retire from business and live together for good, it shall 
 be somewhere here, away from the town and all the 
 troubles which seem to belong to town life." . 
 
 She was thinking of her father's troubles, matrimonial 
 and then official, when Xed Delancy, in his chaise, 
 rattled up to her side and startled her. She had 
 moved a little closer to the hedge to allow of the 
 traveller passing her, and was considerably surprised 
 to find that the horse was pulled up, and that some one 
 from the chaise was calling out her name. 
 
 " Now, Anne Judge, lend me your hand and step 
 up, if you please." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Delancy, is that you ?" she asked, some- 
 what unnecessarily. 
 
 " Yes, I believe so," he answered. " Now jump in, 
 there's a good girl, and don't stare in that surprised 
 manner at me. You are going to Wolchester ?" 
 
 " Ye— es, sir." 
 
 " So am I. I am in a hurry to get there, and so 
 are you, and here a good fairy has sent us a horse and 
 a chaise, as good fairies always reward amiable beings. 
 Your hand, Anne Judge." 
 
 Anne was bewildered by his rapidity of utterance —
 
 A LIFT ON THE ROAD. 231 
 
 by the suddenness with which he had appeared upon 
 the scene, and, as a matter of course, offered to assist 
 her on her journey. She had not been warned of 
 Edmund Delancy, we are sure, as Edmund Delancy 
 had been warned of her, and after a moment's hesita- 
 tion she held forth her hand, and allowed herself to be 
 assisted into the vehicle. The temptation to hasten on 
 her journey was too great to be resisted, and she felt 
 that she could trust this gentleman, who had been kind 
 to her and hers more than once. 
 
 " How strange," she said, " that you should be 
 going to Wolchester to-day !" 
 
 " It is a little strange," replied he, " although I have 
 relations in Wolchester, you know." 
 
 " I did not know that." 
 
 "And very nice people they are," he said, drily, 
 " although I do not agree with nice people generally. 
 Whatever have you got there ?" 
 
 " This is my pillow." 
 
 " Oh, you are going to sleep at Wolchester, then ?" 
 
 Anne laughed merrily at this ; and it was a heart- 
 stirring, musical laugh, which, to a musical ear like 
 Delancy's, was very pleasant. 
 
 " A pillow for my lace, not for my head, Mr. De- 
 lancy," she answered. " I thought that it would not 
 be fair to waste more time than I could help. I have 
 done some work already in Mr. Gravat's cart. I 
 should like," she added, shily, " to finish the pattern
 
 232 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 before I get to Wolchester. Aunt Judge could not 
 say then that I had been very idle." 
 
 " Finish the pattern, by all means," said Ned. " I 
 like to see lace made — there is something so exhila- 
 rating about it." 
 
 " But this is not Mr. Gra vat's cart," replied Anne. 
 " And by the side of a gentleman like you, and in this 
 grand chaise, it might look very ridiculous to passers-by." 
 
 " Bother the passers-by," said Ned. 
 
 " I can get out — of course I shall get out — before I 
 reach Wolchester, Mr. Delancy." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I am a poor girl at present, and, you see," 
 she added, with a childish simplicity, "I am in my 
 every-day dress." 
 
 " Ah, if you had that white muslin on, what a differ- 
 ence it would make," said Mr. Delancy, gravely. 
 " Now get on with your lace." 
 
 " If you do not mind, sir," said Anne, and then the 
 pillow was divested of its covering, and Anne dashed 
 at her work at once, whilst Mr. Delancy watched the 
 operation with one eye, and kept guard over the mare 
 with the other. 
 
 It would have been certainly an odd sight to passers- 
 by, but then nothing passed them but a mail-cart, and 
 the driver stared a little, that was all. 
 
 "You don't like Aunt Judge?" Ned said, with a 
 suddenness that made her start.
 
 A LIFT OX THE ROAD. 233 
 
 "Yes, I do," answered Anne, looking up quickly. 
 "What made you think that?" 
 
 " You spoke, child, as if you lived in fear of her — as 
 if she was not kind to you." 
 
 " I might like her for all that," answered Anne. 
 " But I do not fear her ; and she is at times, and in 
 her way, very kind to me. Why, if she had not 
 offered me the shelter of her house when I lay ill at 
 Wolchester, the town air must have killed me." 
 
 " That's well ; stick up for Aunt Judge, then, whilst 
 you are a child, and when you are a woman there will 
 be nothing to regret." 
 
 Anne did not relish this remark. Whilst she was 
 a child, indeed ! — she who would be seventeen next 
 September. How old was this gentleman, she con- 
 sidered, that he should speak in this paternal manner 
 to her? She had fancied that he was not more than 
 five and twenty ; and he fancied, perhaps, that she was 
 a big girl of twelve. AVas she not quite a woman 
 of the world ? a woman who had had her living to get 
 for years, and her education to snatch at in odd 
 moments over her lace, with that dear father of hers 
 for teacher and master ? Whilst she was a child, 
 indeed ! 
 
 Ned Delancy drove on in silence for a time, after 
 his last moral reflection. The thought had occurred 
 to him — though it did not occur to him to give expres- 
 sion thereto, and soften the wounded feelings of his
 
 234 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 companion — that it was a fair, womanly face that was 
 bent over the lace-making, and that childhood's days 
 were fading fast away from it. This Anne Judge 
 would become a pretty woman he could see, and then 
 would come "the fellows" and the old story, despite 
 all the caution and all the day-dreams of papa Judge, 
 of Wolchester. 
 
 ** You are a young lady of strong likes and dislikes, 
 I believe," he said, breaking in upon his own reverie 
 and hers. " That is why it struck me that you did not 
 like your aunt." 
 
 " I dislike no one, Mr. Delancy." 
 
 " That's right — good girl !" 
 
 Anne coloured, and worked her bobbins more ra- 
 pidly. His manner had certainly changed towards her 
 since their meeting under the porch of St. Bride's ; 
 in the parlour of the Gull Inn, there was less restraint, 
 and yet more consciousness on his part that he was 
 addressing one nearer his own age. How young and 
 childlike she must look that morning, to be sure ! 
 
 Mr. Delancy, meanwhile, was thinking of Mr. Judge's 
 remark, that Anne had taken a dislike to him. He had 
 not believed it at the time, but he fancied that it might 
 be true after all, when Anne became more reserved as 
 they rattled on to town. Girls of her age are full 
 of odd whims, he knew, and this might be one of Anne 
 Judge's. 
 
 " Do you know Wolchester well, Mr. Delancy ?"
 
 A LIFT ON THE ROAD. 235 
 
 Anne asked, after another long pause in the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " I was there for half an hour last Saturday, waiting 
 for ' the husbands' coach.' " 
 
 " I thought that you had relations in Wolchester ?" 
 said Anne, in her surprise. 
 
 " So I have — but I have never been to Wolchester 
 to see them. They used to come and see my mother 
 and me when we were in London, and lived in a big 
 house and were not poor people — but afterwards the 
 acquaintance dropped." 
 
 " Because you and your mother became poor ? What 
 a shame !" cried Anne Judge, indignantly. 
 
 " They were only my mother's first cousins — that's 
 nothing, so far as relationship is concerned," said 
 Ned. 
 
 " And you are going to see them again, sir, to-day. 
 Why, I can't believe that." 
 
 *' Why can you not ?" 
 
 " It — it does not seem like you, somehow," she 
 answered, in a low tone. 
 
 " But perhaps they may give me a berth in their 
 office, for they are the first solicitors in Wolchester, 
 Anne — parHamentary agents — and regular great guns 
 in the county," he said. " Would not you beg very 
 hard for a good situation of them, in my place ?" 
 
 " That I would not," cried Anne. " I would get my 
 own living, if they had not the courage or the kindness
 
 236 ANXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 to help me of their own free will; if they had ever 
 looked down or turned away from my father." 
 
 *'Ah, but this was only my mother. And now, 
 Anne Judge," he said, very suddenly, "what takes 
 you to Wolchester this afternoon ?" 
 
 "Well, Mr. Delancy, I am going in search of a 
 situation, or rather in search of a permission to accept 
 the post of companion to a friend of yours." 
 
 " Of mine, eh ?" 
 
 "Yes— Lady Burlinson." 
 
 He was silent for several minutes after this. 
 
 " That is a rise in life for you, at any rate. A step 
 backwards to the old estate," he said, thoughtfully. 
 " I hope that you will be happy in the new sphere." 
 
 " I shall save money, sir." 
 
 " That is a delightful prospect." 
 
 " Delightful to me, for father is saving money too, 
 I think ; and when we have sufficient capital, we shall 
 open a little business in Wolchester, or perhaps at 
 Ilpham, and save money enough to retire into the 
 country, where we will take care of each other for all 
 time." 
 
 " Or till time shall be no more to one or another of 
 you," said Ned, in a gentle tone, that showed the girl's 
 enthusiasm had touched him. " But, after all, this is 
 an idea which it is wrong of you to foster in that old 
 man — wrong of him to induce you to believe in. There 
 is nothing less likely to come true ; and he may reckon
 
 A LIFT ON THE KOAD. 237 
 
 upon this more than you, and feel the disappointment 
 far more bitterly." 
 
 " I am living for my father," said Anne. 
 
 " Yes, for the present." 
 
 " For ever ; he will stand first, Mr. Delancy. I 
 have promised him." 
 
 " What a promise !" exclaimed Ned, " and you six- 
 teen years of age. But the world goes round, and 
 resolutions change, my spinster. A year or two hence, 
 you and I — if we should chance to have the pleasure 
 of one another's acquaintance at that time — will have 
 a laugh at this dream of yours; meanwhile, here's 
 Wolchester turnpike, and there's the busy town 
 ahead." 
 
 "I will get down here," said Anne. 
 
 Ned Delancy settled the toll-keeper's demand before 
 he answered her. 
 
 "There's a long three quarters of a mile to the 
 town, and I do not drop my friends by the way. AYe 
 will drive in to Wolchester in style, Miss Judge. 
 Where does your father live ?" 
 
 "Primrose Street. But " 
 
 "But I have to explain my conduct to your father, 
 who looks at me distrustfully," he said, " W' hat will 
 he look like, I wonder, when we drive up together to 
 his door ?"
 
 238 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, WOLCHESTER. 
 
 Edmund Delancy drove Anne Judge to the corner of 
 Primrose Street, Wolchester, not finding that particular 
 part of the town without considerable trouble and 
 incessant inquiry of the aborigines, who looked with 
 astonishment at the inquirer before responding to his 
 questions. 
 
 " Over there, sir," and, " Right over yonder, sir," 
 were the directions generally given, until Delancy 
 found that the broad thoroughfares were left behind at 
 last, and that he was threading and jolting his way 
 amongst badly-paved and narrow streets, which ap- 
 peared to have been all shaken to one end of the town, 
 and were ended by an enormous workhouse — the 
 refuge not alone for the Wolchester poor, but for the 
 poor of all the villages adjacent, and which poorhouse 
 appeared to be the proper finish to so vile a neighbour- 
 hood.
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, WOLCHESTER. 239 
 
 Ned Delancy looked around him with dismay ; even 
 Anne Judge appeared scared by this poverty-steeped 
 portion of the town. 
 
 " You have lived in Wolchester lately ; was it about 
 here ?" asked Delancy. 
 
 " Oh no, not so bad as this," said Anne, repressing 
 a shudder ; " this appears very wretched, even to me." 
 
 " A trifle less clean than it might be, that's all," said 
 Delancy, assuringly. "I see your father's plan in 
 coming to this part of the town. What a philosopher 
 the man is !" 
 
 " Yes — yes, and I see it too," said Anne, eagerly. 
 " He lives here at a cheaper rate, and he puts up with 
 this for my sake, and saves money all the faster." 
 
 " Yes, that is it," answered Ned, thinking that there 
 must be a great deal of good in old Judge to sacrifice 
 so much for the future, and for his daughter's sake. 
 For any position in life, or any post which a man of 
 tolerable education might fill, this part of the town 
 seemed too low and wretched to reside in after business 
 hours. 
 
 Primrose Street was at last before them, and Ned 
 Delancy was assisting Anne from the chaise, whilst a 
 man without shoes and stockings, who scented a fee, 
 held the head of Mr. Avnard's thoroughbred. 
 
 " Oh, this is Primrose Street," said Delancy, looking 
 down a narrow passage of three or four feet in width, 
 having a row of houses on one side of the way and a
 
 240 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 great blank wall on the other. " Well, its name is the 
 nicest thing about it." 
 
 " You must not look down upon those who are com- 
 pelled to live here, Mr. Delancy," said Anne, quickly. 
 "There is no telling where we may drift to in a few 
 years, more or less." 
 
 " There is no telling, Anne Judge, and I do not look 
 down upon poverty ; on the contrary, have very good 
 reasons for sympathizing with it." 
 
 "The honest people here, I have no doubt, are 
 thankful that they have not reached the lower level 
 over the way," said Anne. 
 
 " Ah, that's the wall of Wolchester Poorhouse, I 
 suppose, or of the airing-yard where the poor old 
 paupers trot. A cheerful-looking place, but I would 
 prefer the county prison we passed beyond the turn- 
 pike — that is in the green fields, at least. Are you 
 ready ?" 
 
 " Please come no further." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I don't know why exactly," answered Anne. " Papa 
 might not like it — might be taken by surprise at find- 
 ing me with you, and feel — there, feel ashamed, for he 
 is a very proud man — that you should be a witness to 
 how low he has been reduced by believing other men 
 to be as honest as himself. Thank you very much for 
 bringing me here, sir — for all your kindness to us 
 Judges."
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, WOLCHESTER. 241 
 
 " Don't talk about kindness," said Delancy ; " you 
 were going my way, you know, and I like society. 
 Well, I'll leave you, tben. I should not like to hurt a 
 gentleman's feelings — for, after all, Primrose Street 
 makes him none the less a gentleman." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, for that," cried Anne Judge, 
 gratefully. 
 
 *' Tell him how I overtook you, and how I mean to 
 call for you at eight o'clock, and, with his permission, 
 to drive you back to Ilpham." 
 
 " I — I thought of staying here to-night, and return- 
 ing to-morrow," said Anne ; " but of course I should 
 be very glad to get back if father will allow me, if he 
 does not ask me to stay." 
 
 "I don't think that he will ask you to stay in this 
 place," said Ned. " And, at all events, I'll call for you." 
 
 " You are very kind," Anne repeated again. 
 
 " I tell you that I am nothing of the sort,"' he an- 
 swered, testily. " We are both going the same way, 
 with the father's gracious permission, and I wish to see 
 the father again too ; I have been thinking over the 
 Unlimited Credit Company, tell him. What is the 
 number. Miss Judge ?" 
 
 '* Nineteen and a Half." 
 
 " I shall remember it. Good-evening for the present. 
 Now, my little boys and girls, when you have quite done 
 blocking up the way I'll get into my chaise," he said 
 to a host of infantine starvelings of all degrees of age 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 and dirt that had collected round them both, open- 
 mouthed and staring. 
 
 " I don't think you'll be able to turn here, your 
 honour," said the man who held the horse's head. 
 
 "That's true," he said; "you are right enough. 
 Back the mare to the wider street beyond. It will be 
 easier there, any way." 
 
 When this had been done, Ned Delancy stepped 
 into his chaise and rewarded the man with sixpence for 
 his trouble — a sum which led the gaunt and haggard 
 recipient to burst forth with a *' Bless you, sir," that 
 amazed the giver vastly. 
 
 " Now to think that I had heaps of money once," 
 muttered Delancy, as he drove away, "and knew 
 nothing of such places and such people on all sides 
 
 me. 
 
 Meanwhile, Anne Judge went slowly up Primrose 
 Street, clutching her pillow to her bosom still, and 
 looking anxiously for Number Nineteen and a Half. 
 She felt dispirited at the penury around her ; the 
 poverty of the Backwater had been nothing to this — 
 was nothing like this. The houses here, though of 
 brick instead of wood, had more completely gone to 
 decay ; there was a greater evidence of squalor, of 
 complete indifference to the surroundings than she had 
 ever seen before : the faces of children were like old 
 men and women's faces,, and the faces of the men and 
 women that looked from doors and windows after her,
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, WOLCHESTER. 243 
 
 were terrible with their impress of want, and still more 
 terrible with that unmistakable stamp of crime to 
 which want brinofs the weakest and the rashest. 
 
 Number Nineteen and a Half was found with diffi- 
 culty, for that establishment, or portion of an establish- 
 ment, appertained to a kind of ground-floor that was 
 level with the pavement — a rabbit-hutch with a glass 
 front to it, and a door on the left which led to unknown 
 and murky regions. Over this glass front, which was a 
 small shop-front under a parlour window, was inscribed, 
 "Abel Smith, Dyer and Scourer," and the name being 
 familiar to Anne Judge, she searched for the number, 
 and found that Nineteen and a Half had been painted 
 on the left side of the door at one period or another, 
 and then immediately " smudged " by some malicious 
 personage, probably one of the inquiring children who 
 formed Anne's cortege up the narrow passage. 
 
 After an attentive study of the place, Anne became 
 aware of an old man's head on the other side of the 
 window-glass — a head that disappeared from the 
 window after a moment, and came up a flight of 
 steps till it was level with the pavement — a black and 
 yellow head, like an Indian's with its war-paint on. 
 
 " I say, you're blocking up the light," the head said, 
 in an injured tone of voice, " and goodness knows we 
 shan't have much more of it to-night." 
 "Is this Mr. Smith's?" 
 '' Yes, it is. I'm Mr. Smith. Have you got a job
 
 244 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 there ?" and Mr. Smith looked very eagerly at the 
 bundle which Anne carried. 
 
 "No, I have not," she answered. "I am Anne 
 Judge — I have come to see my father." 
 
 '• Whew !" whistled the man, " the deuce you have, 
 miss. What for ?" 
 
 Anne was surprised at the man's amazement, but 
 said: 
 
 " On important business." 
 
 " Have you come from Ilpham ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He was there yesterday, wasn't he ?" 
 
 " He left Ilpham yesterday morning." 
 
 " Exactly. Come in, please — he'll be here in a few 
 minutes, I think. It's Tuesday night, isn't it ?" 
 
 Anne responded in the affirmative. 
 
 " Then he's sure to be here. Of course, he's always 
 here as a lodger, you know, Miss Judge ; but on Tues- 
 day nio^hts he's especially here, you understand. Sure 
 to be here, to talk to an old friend. This way — down- 
 stairs — and mind your bonnet going down. Preserve 
 us ! to think now of this. I hope it's nothing very 
 serious. Not the aunt dead, now — you won't say 
 that?" 
 
 " Oh no," said Anne, surprised a little at the man's 
 knowledge of her and hers. *' I have come with good 
 news for him, I think." 
 
 " That's brave hearing. This way — here's a chair,
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, WOLCHESTER. 245 
 
 miss. Excuse my want of space, but rents are dear, 
 and living's rather hard. The light's bad at fust, but 
 you'll get used to that, and the smell of turpentine is 
 rather healthy, and what we must put up with in our 
 business. Have you found the chair, miss?" 
 
 "Thank you — I think I have," said Anne, as her 
 disengaged hand, groping in the shadows, came in con- 
 tact with a chair at last. " My father will not be long, 
 you say ?" 
 
 "Oh, a very little while indeed. Gracious, how 
 surprised he'll be !" 
 
 Anne seated herself on the chair which she had dis- 
 covered, and by degrees became used to the room, and 
 to the light which filtered slowly and painfully through 
 the window in front of her. It was a small room, with 
 a very low ceiling, a damp stone floor, and a doll's-house 
 kind of fireplace, where a fire was burning, and a some- 
 thing boiling thereon in a malformed iron saucepan. 
 There was another chair in the room, but that, pos- 
 sessing three legs, was planted against the wall for 
 security's sake, and was only used by its owner, who 
 understood better than his visitors how to balance him- 
 self upon it ; and there was a dog sitting before the 
 fire, with a shaggy coat of many colours, like Joseph's 
 — a coat on which its owner evidently tried the streno-th 
 and brightness of his dyes before beginning business. 
 
 '* Arly's got ail the fire, miss," Mr. Smith said, 
 giving Arly a kick that moved him somewhat from his
 
 246 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 first position. " It's his way, miss. That dog's always 
 cold." 
 
 "I'm not cold myself," said Anne. "The day has 
 been very hot, I think." 
 
 " Has it ?" said Mr. Smith, after an intent stare at 
 his visitor. " Out in the sun and the fields, very likely. 
 I don't feel the heat down here, though other people 
 grumbles in Primrose Street about the weather." 
 
 Anne thought that the place was stifling already. 
 
 " Harlequin and I like fire, and as it is in the way 
 of business too, to-day, why, we have thoroughly en- 
 joyed it. But then I'm old — seventy-four, Miss Judge, 
 and active as a boy still. Always been in good sperets 
 all my life, that seems to have kept me going, thank 
 Heaven ! Always been a bachelor, with never a wife to 
 scold me for having tastes contrairy to her own, and so 
 an easy life of it — ha, ha !" 
 
 He looked at Anne as if he expected her to laugh 
 at this statement, but Anne was still bewildered by 
 the place, and was glancing round her furtively. It 
 grew more incomprehensible every minute to her ; she 
 became aware that there was no door leading to other 
 parts of the house, and that the only outlet seemed that 
 by which she had entered a few minutes since. 
 
 " My father lodges with you, I believe, Mr. Smith ?" 
 she asked at last, " but not — not here, sir ?" 
 
 "Why not?" said Mr. Smith, scratching with both 
 hands at his wiry head now. " It's rather roomy for
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, WOLCHESTER. 247 
 
 Primrose Street ; it's clean, and we make a capital bed 
 up here, by the window, on this shop-board, and — and 
 we're as jolly as possible." 
 
 " Oh dear," sighed Anne. 
 
 " And then, see what he saves by it — what he puts 
 away out of his salary by doing the thing cheap." 
 
 " Yes," said Anne, in a low voice. 
 
 " He has told me all about it, you know ; for he and 
 I have no secrets from each other. A rare old fellow, 
 an astounding old man, I call your father." 
 
 By this time Mr. Smith, who was almost a dwarf, had 
 climbed to the shop-board which was before the window, 
 and to which he had already directed Anne's attention, 
 and screwed himself into a corner, thereby commanding 
 a side view of Primrose Street, and of all persons who 
 approached up that sweet-sounding but ill-smelling 
 thoroughfare. He even opened a window, the frame 
 of which was on hinges, and came back into the room, 
 and tried his utmost to get his head out ; but it was a 
 large head, to make up for his small stature, and 
 could not be conveniently passed through the aperture. 
 
 '• Gracious ! he will be surprised," he said again, as he 
 commenced cleaning a pair of old white kid gloves with 
 some very strong turpentine, peering out of the window 
 at the same time, like a man whose business it was to 
 take stock of passers-by ; " and glad, of course. And 
 good news, too. Now, upon my word and blessed 
 honour, if it's a fortune for that man, I'll get as- tipsy
 
 :;i48 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 to-night as ever I've been on Saturdays, and give 
 Harlequin a crimson coat for joy." 
 
 The dog gave a yelp at this mention of his name, 
 and jumped upon the shop-board, receiving a second 
 kick for his intrusion, which sent him sprawling to the 
 ground again. 
 
 "Don't disturb business, Arly," said Mr. Smith; 
 " here's a pair of gloves wanted for an evening party 
 higher up the court, and tuppence to be earned before 
 the daylight goes behind that horrid wall. I mind the 
 time. Miss Judge, when the workus was a little place a 
 quarter a mile away, and afore the guardians blocked 
 us in with brickwork. But the poor grows — Lor, how 
 fast too ! and they must have room, the law says that. 
 They may starve us when we get in there, but they 
 can't keep us out of it if we're real Wolchester born. 
 That's my old home, some day, miss, when I get on in 
 years." 
 
 He said it almost exultingly, like a man who would 
 make the best of it even there, when his time came. 
 Then he made another futile effort to screw his head 
 through the window-frame, sinking back at last into his 
 corner, and working away with the turpentine and the 
 wooden hand on which the glove was stretched. 
 
 " Is it very good news ?" he asked at last ; " you may 
 tell me everything, Miss Judge." 
 
 " I will tell my father first, Mr. Smith ; he has a right 
 to receive the first intelligence."
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, WOLCHESTER. 249 
 
 " Yes, and he's sure to come, I think ; though it's 
 past five," he muttered, " and it may come on to rain." 
 
 " To rain !" said Anne Judge. " Oh, not to-day." 
 
 " I am not so sure that it isn't spitting now," said 
 Mr. Smith, putting his hand through the window, as a 
 pair of grey legs slowly passed the shop-front, and, to 
 Anne's astonishment, suddenly seizing upon the leg 
 close to him, and holding fast by it. 
 
 " Oh ! what are you about, Smith," was the excla- 
 mation from without. 
 
 " How are you ? Don't come down. Don't speak ; 
 I want you for a moment," called Mr. Smith through 
 the window. " I'm coming up to the front." 
 
 " Not my father !" exclaimed Anne. 
 
 " Bless your heart, no, my girl," said Mr. Smith, 
 leaping off the shop-board, seizing a bundle of clothes 
 from beneath it, and hurrying up the steps. " An old 
 customer of mine, that's all. I thought he might come 
 down, and you won't want any company except your 
 father a-bothering here this evening. Wait a moment, 
 please. Lie down, you dog." 
 
 He darted up the stairs to the open street, where the 
 man whom he had seized by the leg was waiting. 
 
 "Here's your bundle, Judge," he said in a hasty 
 whisper, as he closed the door cautiously behind him ; 
 " you must dress somewhere else to-night, and then drop 
 down upon us." 
 
 *^But "
 
 250 
 
 " Hold your row. Your daughter's below." 
 
 " Heaven help me ! what does she want here ?" 
 
 " Good news, she says. Hold your row. Be off." 
 
 And then Mr. Abel Smith came down smiling to his 
 underground works, and took the lid off his saucepan, 
 and looked at a boiling mass of old rags and logwood. 
 
 " It will come out a fine red, I hope," he said, " and 
 then I shall have a decent weskit for Sundays again. 
 Do you know," he added, "I think that it's jast likely 
 that your guv'nor won't come to-night ?" 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do then ? AVhere is the office at 
 which he works ?" 
 
 " A long way off; and they won't have visitors there, 
 I can tell you. But I never give him up afore seven on 
 a Tuesday. Sometimes he sleeps at the orfice, and don't 
 come when he's very busy with the accounts, and has 
 lots of money to make right." 
 
 " It's a wholesale firm ?" 
 
 " Yes, uncommonly wholesale, miss," said Mr. Smith, 
 covering up his waistcoat, and climbing to his shop- 
 board once more. " But I'll send round presently, if 
 he don't come, and tell him that you're here. I should 
 not be surprised if he don't turn up the other way." . 
 
 And Mr. Smith reversed his position, and looked up 
 the court instead of down. 
 
 " Is it raining now ?" asked Anne. 
 
 " It's as fine as fine can be," he answered; "and 
 nothing but business to stop him, which it won't, I dare
 
 PRIMROSE STREET, WOLCHESTER. 251 
 
 say, now I come to think of it. Why, here he is 
 a-coraing up the street as grand as life, and in his best 
 black suit ! How surprised he will be to see you, to 
 be sure. How well he's looking ; quite the gentleman 
 still, for all his rewerses. Sit still, my dear, and don't 
 scare him by being in too much of a hurry. I said 
 he'd come." 
 
 The door at the top of the stairs was knocked at by 
 the handle of a stick. 
 
 *' Anybody at home ?" Mr. Judge was heard to 
 inquire. 
 
 "Yes — Abel Smith, and Miss Anne Judge, from 
 Ilpham, with good news," cried the dyer. 
 
 Mr. Judge came down-stairs after this ; his face was 
 as agitated and white as though talking of good news 
 had frightened him, but he was very firm in his de- 
 meanour, and did not seem so much surprised to find 
 hfs daughter there as Anne Judge had anticipated, 
 
 " My dear girl," he said, as he folded his arms round 
 her, " this is an unlooked-for meeting, but I'm very, 
 very glad to see you for all that."
 
 252 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FOUND OUT. 
 
 Mr. Edmund Delancy drove back to the more respect- 
 able part of Wolchester, put up the horse and chaise at 
 the Dragon, and then took counsel with himself as to 
 his next step. He had two or three hours to wait, and 
 he was not quite certain how to spend them to the best 
 advantage. 
 
 " I think that I'll frighten my relations," he said, 
 after deliberating for awhile under the town clock. 
 *' Upon my word, that would be a good joke in its way, 
 and afford matter for a letter that would make the old 
 lady laugh, knowing what they are, and what im- 
 pudence her son has. I have last night's dress suit 
 under this overcoat, and they will make sure that I 
 have come to dinner in style. Here goes for the 
 Ridkins, cousins second time removed, and all the 
 better for it." 
 
 It must have been purely for irritation's sake that 
 Ned Delancy went to his cousins house that evening,
 
 FOUND OUT. 253 
 
 for he disliked the men, and he knew that the men 
 disliked him. Delancy was evidently an irritating 
 young man at times, and far from a model character. 
 He felt that it would annoy the brothers Ridkins to see 
 him, and he walked up the broad steps before their 
 house in the High Street, and hammered away at 
 the door with all the greater complacency in conse- 
 quence. 
 
 When the door was opened, he was informed that 
 Mr. James Ridkins was at home^ but that Mr. Thomas 
 Ridkins was in London, at the London house, which, Ned 
 knew afterwards, had been opened since they had met last. 
 As he disliked Mr. James Ridkins rather more than he 
 did Mr. Tliomas, he sent in his card, and waited in the 
 hall for the reply that might be vouchsafed to it. Busi- 
 ness was over for the day, and the clerks were gone, he 
 could see by a glance towards an open door on which 
 " Office " was written, and beyond which were high 
 desks and papers, lighted by one jet of gas turned very 
 low — by express orders of Mr. James Ridkins, he was 
 certain. There was a smell of dinner about the house 
 which spoke of James Ridkins at his ease — for James 
 Ridkins lived as well as worked in this establishment, it 
 being one of those roomy houses one meets with in the 
 high streets of old towns, and where pne finds always a 
 solicitor's name on the front door. 
 
 Mr. James Ridkins, a short, stout, fierce-looking 
 man, with a bald head, came from the dining-room
 
 254 • ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 and shook Ned Delaiicy's outstretched hand in a feeble 
 manner. 
 
 " Well, Edmund, surprised to see you in Wolchester. 
 Come down on business, I suppose ?" 
 
 *' Yes, partly on business, James. How is Thomas ?" 
 
 " Oh, very well indeed, thank you. You'll step in 
 and see Miss Ridkins for a minute or two ?" 
 
 " Certainly I will ;" and then Ned Delancy divested 
 himself of his outer coat, set his hat aside, and appeared 
 in a full-dress suit, with his white tie and shirt-front 
 somewhat crumpled and soiled. Mr. Ridkins looked 
 surprised, but made no comment, as Delancy followed 
 him into the dining-room, where a short, stout woman, 
 who looked very much like her brother in petticoats, 
 greeted him coldly, and also expressed more surprise 
 than gratification at seeing him again. 
 
 " Mr. Delancy thought that he would drop in as he 
 passed, for a minute or two," explained Mr. Ridkins to 
 his sister ; " having come down here on business. I 
 believe that you said on business, Edmund ?" 
 
 '^ Partly on business." 
 
 And then they were all three silent for awhile, 
 during which hitch in the conversation Ned sat down 
 and took off his gloves. Four years ago there had been 
 a great quarrel with these people, winding up, at the 
 mother's urgent request, with a reconciliation that went 
 as far as shaking hands with each other, nothing more. 
 Then they had separated, and had made no efforts to
 
 FOUND OUT. 255 
 
 meet, until this whim had taken him to the solicitors' 
 house. What they had quarrelled about, we may dis- 
 cover before the chapter ends. 
 
 Miss Ridkins inquired after Mrs. Delancy's health 
 suddenly, and Ned replied that his mother was well. 
 Mr. Ridkins looked at the dinner-cloth, then at his 
 sister, and lastly at Ned. 
 
 "You are in office somewhere, I suppose?" he asked. 
 
 '' Yes, down at Ilpham." 
 
 '' Why, whatever can you find to do at Ilpham ?" 
 
 "Play the organ, and make friends with the inha- 
 bitants. That appears to be my mission there." 
 
 "Oh, indeed !" and then Mr. Ridkins looked at his 
 sister again, and coughed violently. Another pause 
 and then Miss Ridkins said : 
 
 " How will you get back to Wolchester to-night ?" 
 
 " In the chaise my friend Mr. Aynard has been good 
 enough to lend me." 
 
 " Mr. Aynard ? not Mr. Aynard of Thirby Croes ?" 
 cried Mr. Ridkins. " Surely he is not a friend of yours ?" 
 
 •' I dined with him last night at Ilpham. We had a 
 row on the water afterwards, that I very much enjoyed. 
 I slept at his marine retreat, and rowed with him again 
 to Thirby Cross, where I had luncheon, and where he 
 lent me his horse and chaise, as I refused his pressing 
 entreaties to dine with him to-day. Is not that like 
 eternal friendship with Mr. Aynard, James ?" 
 
 " Dear me, how very singular !"
 
 256 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Not at all. We are old schoolfellows." 
 
 *' You will stay and dine with us, I hope ?" said Mr. 
 Ridkins, cheerfully. "It is very kind of you to look 
 us up again, and to show that there is no ill-feeling 
 existent, as one might have fancied, after all. My dear, 
 will you touch that bell for dinner, and direct the man 
 to set another knife and fork ? A very quiet dinner, 
 Edmund, with which you must put up, not haying given 
 us warning of your coming." 
 
 ** Oh, no apologies," said Ned, and then he sat down 
 to dinner with his second cousins, and was astonished 
 at the attention and kindness with which he had been 
 suddenly confronted. 
 
 "There is no ill-feeling existent," said Ned, when 
 they were at dinner. " I have got over all that, and 
 my mother was always sure that you advised her to the 
 best of your ability." 
 
 *' Thomas and I certainly did." 
 
 *' I was old enough to advise her to be careful, but she 
 had great faith in your judgment, poor old soul." 
 
 " Ahem ! A little fish, Edmund ?" 
 
 " Thank you, James," said Ned. " And so she took 
 a great many shares in the Unlimited Credit Company, 
 of which you and Thomas were the certified solicitors ; 
 and when the smash occurred, we had to pay up 
 handsomely on our calls towards the winding-up, which 
 is not satisfactorily wound up yet, although all has been 
 got out of us that it is possible to squeeze."
 
 FOUND OUT. 257 
 
 " Oh, there is more than enough to pay all creditors," 
 said Mr. Ridkins. " It was an unfortunate affair, and 
 we suffered with the rest." 
 
 " I never heard of that. How many shares " 
 
 "May I trouble you for a potato? Thank you, 
 Edmund. And how is Mr. Aynard's health now ?" 
 
 " He appears to be very well." 
 
 " Very eccentric, is he not ?" asked Miss Ridkins. 
 
 " What do you call very eccentric, cousin ?" 
 
 Having led Miss Ridkins into an explanation of her 
 meaning, he waited patiently until she had concluded, 
 and then he thought that Mr. Aynard was not exactly 
 an eccentric man, and was impervious to the evident 
 efforts that were made to keep the conversation to 
 the one subject of the owner of Thirby Cross. He 
 noticed that his cousins were disposed to submit him to 
 a cross-examination, and he resisted it. He had no 
 opinions to offer, no anecdotes to relate : he simply 
 asserted that Mr. x\ynard was a gentleman, liberal and 
 hospitable, and that he thought he should like Mr. 
 Aynard very much. He was more inclined to dwell 
 upon the Unlimited Credit Company, as it seemed to 
 perplex his cousin James to allude to that colossal 
 undertaking of four years ago, and thus they were at 
 cross purposes till Ned Delancy rose to take his leave. 
 
 " You'll run over and see us, I hope ?" said James. 
 
 " Some day, perhaps," replied Ned, *' I may give 
 you another little surprise." 
 
 VOL. r. s
 
 258 
 
 " I don't see why your mother cannot spend a few 
 days with us occasionally," said Miss Kidkins. " We 
 should be so pleased to see her." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Ned. " I'll mention it." 
 
 *' Can I send round for your trap, Edmund ?" 
 
 " Thank you, I always like to fetch things for myself. 
 Besides, it's on my way to Primrose Street." 
 
 " To where ?" ejaculated his cousin. 
 
 "To Primrose Street. Do you know that part of 
 Wolchester?" 
 
 "Surely you don't mean Primrose Street — that's a 
 dreadful place at the back of the workhouse ?" 
 
 " Exactly. I have a couple of friends there, and I 
 dare say that they are waiting supper for me. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 He took his departure, leaving the Ridkins much 
 astonished. When in the street, he laughed heartily at 
 the remembrance of their blank countenances. 
 
 "There's a little for them to talk about to-night, 
 instead of quarrelling as they generally do — or, to be 
 charitable, as they generally did: poor ossifications, 
 with plenty of money but no love, no wife, husband, 
 children, no home to speak of, or anything worth living 
 for." 
 
 He called at the Dragon, and gave directions for the 
 horse and chaise to be ready on his return, thinking that 
 it would be better to walk with Anne Judge to the hotel 
 than back ungracefully their way through the lower
 
 FOUND OUT. 259 
 
 part of the town, supposing that Mr. Judge was even 
 inclined to give his consent to his daughter riding home 
 with him. He glanced at the town clock as he passed. 
 It was illuminated now, although the daylight was not 
 gone quite, and it wanted a quarter of an hour to the 
 time of his appointment. 
 
 "I'll make haste, and have a long talk with old 
 Judge," he said, " for he's doubtless an obstinate man. 
 He will prefer leaving his daughter in Primrose Street 
 to trusting her with a stranger, perhaps, and I don't 
 like the look of Primrose Street at all." 
 
 On his way he thought of the Ridkins again, and 
 laughed once more at their consternation when he had 
 spoken of his friends in the lower quarter of the town. 
 
 " I'm not quite satisfied with my visit, though," he 
 said to himself. " I had hoped to have made more fun 
 out of it, and to have put them out more ; instead of 
 which, that talk of Aynard made them very glad to see me. 
 I will ask Aynard if the Ridkins are his solicitors, next 
 time we meet. I suppose that is the cause of the atten- 
 tion which has been bestowed on the poor relation." 
 
 He walked at a smart pace onwards after this, as 
 though the attention had annoyed him, and he reached 
 the corner of Primrose Street before he was aware, and 
 turned round it so quickly, that he nearly overturned 
 Mr. Judge, limping along with great haste, too, in the 
 opposite direction to which he was advancing. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Judge, with a strange
 
 2()0 
 
 humility, although Ned Delancy had been the aggressor 
 in his rashness. " I " 
 
 " Judge — Judge ! — surely it is you ?" 
 
 He caught him by the arm, and turned the old man 
 with his face to the lamp that was now lighted at the 
 corner of the court, down which all the daylight had 
 been quenched a quarter of an hour ago. 
 
 " Yes, it is I," said Judge, bowing his head more 
 and more with shame. " For Heaven's sake keep my 
 secret, sir, from her !" 
 
 " Why, what masquerading nonsense is this ?" ex- 
 claimed Delancy, for this was a new John Judge before 
 him — a man who cowered like a dog away from him, 
 who huddled himself close to the wall, and put one hand 
 up as though to shade his face after the recognition that 
 had ensued — a man in an old rough suit of grey, with 
 a coarse grey cap covering his white hairs — a man with 
 the awful brand of the Union upon him. 
 
 " Is it — is it the workhouse, Judge ?" 
 
 " Ah, it is." 
 
 And the old man began sobbing like a child, as he 
 turned his face to the wall away from the questioner. 
 
 " I am sorry — upon my soul I can't tell you how sorry 
 I am," said Delancy, whose heart was more easy to touch 
 than Lady Burlinson believed, " and I have dined with 
 one of those wretches to-day who ruined both of us, and 
 who is as rich as Croesus. But how is this ?" 
 
 '' You will not tell Anne ? You will never disgrace
 
 FOUXD OUT. 261 
 
 me so utterly in her eyes ?" he cried, eagerly. "Oh, 
 sir, say something to make me believe that I can trust 
 you.'^ 
 
 "I can only say, Judge, that upon the honour of a 
 gentleman your secret is safe with me." 
 
 " Thank you," was the low response. 
 
 " But, is all this necessary ?" 
 
 " Oh> sir ! she would die of grief to know it — and 
 there is no help for it and me until the better time 
 comes. We were very poor, and when I went into the 
 House I was one less, and her aunt could get on with 
 Anne. I could not find any work in any shape, and I 
 came down to this." 
 
 " For a time," said Ned Delancy, with forced cheer- 
 fulness. He was very pale himself, for he had not 
 recovered from the shock of his surprise, and his lower 
 lip had suddenly got into a bad habit of quivering to 
 which he objected, though he could not control it. 
 
 " Yes, only for a time, I know that. If I thought 
 otherwise, I should die of a broken heart at once." 
 
 *' What are you looking forward to ?" said Ned. 
 ''What is all this talk of living together with your 
 daughter presently ?" 
 
 " Not all deceit, sir — not half of it deception. Per- 
 sently that time will come — we shall open a little 
 business somewhere ; my sister Mary, the first lace- 
 worker in England, is earning plenty of money, and 
 saving money with that object fast — working for the
 
 262 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 three of us, or to give Anne and me a start without 
 her, just as we can agree upon that point." 
 
 " A good woman, this Aunt Mary," said Ned 
 Delancy. 
 
 "Yes, sir, there is no doubt of that, for all her 
 crotchets. And a proud woman, who feels this dis- 
 grace as acutely as her brother does, and is fighting 
 hard for the better days ahead of us. And now Anne 
 is going to save money too — though I did not like the 
 idea at first, till she put it in its right light to me ; and 
 in twelve months, perhaps, where shall we all be ? I'm 
 getting old, but I wish with all my heart my life away. 
 One year further, and then away for ever from this !" 
 
 He struck the livery with his stick in his rage ; he 
 became more upright, and looked more like the irritable, 
 proud old man of yesterday. 
 
 " How did you get to Ilpham ?" 
 
 " With my sister's money, and by permission of the 
 guardians. I get out once a week, too, from this place, 
 and I creep round here to change my dress at Abel 
 Smith's for the suit which my sister Mary bought me 
 a little while ago. They don't allow out-door suits in 
 country poor-houses, and only in one of the London 
 ones, a casual tells me." 
 
 " Good luck to the guardians of that London one, 
 for that consideration," cried Delancy. 
 
 " It was a handsome present of Mary's, for I can 
 get into the daylight now, and people can't point to me
 
 FOUND OUT. 263 
 
 and say, ' There goes John Judge, a man who was well 
 off in the town once, and now has got into the work- 
 house.' Oh, Mr. Delancy !" he said, piteously again, 
 " you have my life in your hands ; you will not betray 
 me?" 
 
 " Not I, indeed." 
 
 " You don't know w hat a dear, proud girl Anne is, 
 and how this would crush her down," he urged. " I 
 had hoped to escape you, for I knew that you were 
 coming back, and it was too late — too late," he wailed 
 forth. 
 
 " There is no harm done, Mr. Judge," said our hero. 
 " On the contrary, a little good, perhaps. Cannot I 
 be of assistance to you in some way ?" 
 
 *' How do you mean ?" and Mr. Judge looked furtively 
 from under his eyebrows at the speaker. 
 
 " If a sovereign or two " 
 
 '* I don't want a sovereign or two," cried Judge, 
 with his old churlishness predominant. " I don't want 
 your money ; it is no temptation to me, poor as I am, 
 but an affront for all this suit of grey. You — you — 
 you — must not talk to me like this, for I can't bear it." 
 
 " I understand that kind of pride, and respect it," 
 said Delancy ; " and I beg your pardon, Mr. Judge." 
 
 " My pardon ?" 
 
 " Yes. Why should I not ?" 
 
 " Well, it is granted, sir. Shall we " — with an 
 affrighted glance down the court — "move away from
 
 264 AXNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 here ? If she should come to the door and see me, 
 after all the precautions that I have taken to deceive 
 her! She watched me out of the court, and I have 
 had to creep back since, you must know, and change 
 my best clothes — what a phrase that is amongst us 
 poor — for these things ; and it has taken time, and I 
 shall be scolded and sent supperless to ray ward for 
 being late." 
 
 *' I will see you to the door. You are excited." 
 
 " I'm not going to have another fit, sir, trust me." 
 
 " I don't think you are. But we have not spoken of 
 Anne yet, and time is valuable to both of us." 
 
 " You can't go with me in this dress. I would not 
 disgrace my worst enemy by contact with this livery." 
 
 " Heaven makes the man, not the livery, old gentle- 
 man ; you should know better than that at your age. 
 Come along, now ; what is the use of grinding the nap 
 off your coat against that wall ?" 
 
 He had passed Mr. Judge's arm through his, and 
 was drawing him along unwillingly. 
 
 " Nap, indeed," said Mr. Judge, forced to give way 
 at last. *' You should see the nap in the daylight. Of 
 all the wretched coats " 
 
 " Ah, I suppose so. Boards of guardians are not too 
 liberal, excepting when the honourable board dines at 
 the expense of the parish," he said, as they turned into 
 the street that met Primrose Street at right-angles. 
 '' Now, about your daughter."
 
 FOUND OUT. 265 
 
 "I am forced to trust her with you," he answered, 
 gloomily ; " she cannot remain where she is." 
 
 " Judge, I wish that you would say, * I feel that I 
 can trust you,' " said the young man, pausing to look at 
 his companion steadily. 
 
 " Well, I can. I think you possess a good heart." 
 
 "I hope so. I had a careful mother to see to its 
 proper pulsations," said Delancy. " And now, do we 
 understand each other better ?" 
 
 " Yes," was the reply. " I thought that I could trust 
 you yesterday, for all my suspicions — for all my wish 
 that you should keep away from us. That was what 
 made me say that I might \sTite to you presently ; for 
 had there been any great anxiety about Anne or her 
 aunt, or of their agreeing together, I might have asked 
 you to drop a line to me one day. For you are not the 
 man to seek in any way to step between me and the 
 only hope to which I am looking forward." 
 
 " No, I am not the man." 
 
 " And here's home, Mr. Delancy, for the present — a 
 home which that hope renders bearable," he said, paus- 
 ing before a door over which was glimmering a lamp, 
 and before which one or two outcasts, worse off than 
 even he was, were waiting for their chance of a night's 
 lodging. " Wait a moment and hear the scolding that 
 I shall get," he added, with a sickly smile. 
 
 *• I would rather not do that." 
 
 " I hope that you understand," he said, as he lingered
 
 266 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 on the workhouse steps and rang the workhouse bell, 
 *' that I sank my self-respect to save hers ! It would 
 have been better to die, perhaps, but Anne was very 
 young. Good-night. Take care of her." 
 
 He vanished into the house, after a question had been 
 put to hini through a trap in the door, which was finally 
 opened to admit him. Ned caught the first words of 
 the scolding, and felt his hands doubling themselves 
 into fists. 
 
 " You have no right to come in behind time like 
 this," bawled the man at the gate. " There's nothing 
 more for you to-night, and no ' out' next Tuesday." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 And then the door slammed, and Mr. Judge was lost 
 to sight. Ned turned away, and in his sudden move- 
 ment caught sight of his cousin, James Ridkins, peep- 
 ing at him round a lamp-post. To overtake that cousin 
 was but the work of a moment. 
 
 "Ah, Edmund," said Mr. Ridkins, with a feeble 
 laugh, " I could not think that Primrose Street was 
 anything but a joke of yours, and having business this 
 way, I — I came on here at once." 
 
 " Bravo, James," said Delancy ; " and not a bad idea 
 of yours, if you were anxious to know. You were always 
 a very truthful fellow. Is your sister here, too ?" 
 
 " Here ! No." 
 
 He passed his arm through his cousin's, and led him 
 along at a rapid pace.
 
 FOUND OUT. 267 
 
 " Excuse me hurrying you, but I have not finished 
 my business in the town, and you are going my way, 
 you say. What a beautiful night, is it not ?" 
 
 " Beau — beautiful," said Mr. Ridkins, who, being a 
 stout man, was speedily short of breath. " Is there 
 really any necessity — to — walk — so — fast — as — this ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think there is. I wish that you had come 
 up sooner, I would have introduced you to my friend, 
 Mr. Brown, a capital fellow in his way. But there's 
 his brother. Come and smoke a pipe with me and 
 his brother before I start for Ilpham." 
 
 And he marched Mr. Ridkins down Primrose Street, 
 till that gentleman became immovable. 
 
 '• I — I would rather not go any further. I — I don't 
 like the place ; it would not do for me to be seen here. 
 Bless me, what an extraordinary- place to pick up 
 friends!" 
 
 " I always had low tastes, if you remember. Well, 
 good-night, James, if you will not come any further. 
 And, by the way, don't hang about here on the spy 
 system, or you will get your throat cut for a certainty. 
 There are some desperate fellows in this court of ours." 
 
 " Yes — yes, I know that ; I would not stop for the 
 world. You must not think that I have been watching 
 you. Good-night, Edmund, good-night." 
 
 " Good-night, James ; take care of yourself for my 
 sake," and then James Ridkins was allowed to run out 
 of the court at the top of his speed, and Ned Delancy
 
 268 ANXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 to pass unobserved into the habitation of Mr. Abel 
 Smith, where he found Anne Judge nervous at his long 
 absence, and with the dog asleep at her feet. Her 
 face brightened very much as he came down the steps 
 into the room, and he was glad to see that, for he bad 
 been friendless for four years. 
 
 *' I thought that you had forgotten me, or that you 
 were certain that I was going to stay in Wolchester." 
 
 " Oh no ; but my relations have been very kind and 
 attentive this evening. Are you ready ?' 
 
 " Quite ready." 
 
 A quarter of an hour afterwards they were rattling at 
 a good pace towards Ilpham-on- the -Cliff.
 
 269 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 D E L A X C Y ' S WARNING. 
 
 Xed Delancy drove Anne Judge safely to her aunt's 
 house in the Backwater, reaching that marine retreat 
 shortly after ten o'clock in the evening. The ride 
 home Anne Judge thought was more pleasant than 
 the ride from Thirby Cross to Wolchester, for he ad- 
 dressed her no longer as a child, but as a woman with 
 life's duties before her. She noticed that he spoke a 
 great deal of her father, and commended her now for 
 that resolution to save for him, to live for him, at which 
 he had previously scoffed. She remarked also that he 
 seemed anxious in his inquiries concerning her aunt ; 
 what kind of woman was she, and how was it that she 
 by his side spoke with a certain amount of reserve 
 concerning her ? Lastly, he spoke of Lady Burlinson, 
 and said, half jestingly, that he hoped her ladyship 
 would not spoil her. They were talking of Lady Bur- 
 linson still, and Anne Judge was singing to her praise
 
 270 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 and glory, when the footpath that led to the old house 
 by the Backwater was reached. 
 
 Aunt Judge was standing in the roadway waiting for 
 them, her beaver bonnet hastily put on her head, ex- 
 tinguisher fashion. She had heard the chaise approach- 
 ing, and had left her pillow-lace and crossed the coarse 
 grass to meet it. She must have been more suspicious 
 than her wont that night ; and, brooding in her solitude 
 upon Anne's desire to meet her, and upon the mystery 
 which seemed to be gathering round them all, her 
 nervous susceptibilities had been aroused, and the ap- 
 proach of a vehicle along the road had put her into 
 action, despite the loss of time which such action had 
 entailed. 
 
 She came close to the chaise, and looked hard into 
 the face of Edmund Delancy as he alighted and as- 
 sisted Anne Judge to dismount. 
 
 " Now, who are you ?" she asked, abruptly, " that my 
 niece should be in your charge ?" 
 
 " I am Mr. Delancy, at your service. Miss Judge." 
 
 *' Not at mine, if I can help it," was the rude reply. 
 " Who gave you permission to bring my niece home at 
 this hour ?" 
 
 '' Her father," answered Ned, as Anne dismounted. 
 " I hope that you have no objection to the escort he has 
 allowed for his daus^hter ?" 
 
 " I am not her father, and have no right to urge 
 objections — he knows best, of course — he always knows
 
 delancy's warxixg. 271 
 
 what is best for that girl. Has he not always acted 
 for the best himself throughout his life ? To be sure." 
 
 " Good-uight, Mr. Delancy, and thank you very 
 much. Why, aunt, I should not have reached home 
 to-night if it had not been for this gentleman." 
 
 " I did not expect you." 
 
 "My letter prepared you — but I intended to get 
 back, if it were possible." 
 
 " I should not have been surprised," she added, " had 
 you never come back again. I have lived down all 
 surprises now." 
 
 " Ah, aunt, you are cross with me," Ned Delancy 
 heard Anne say as he re-ascended Mr. Aynard's chaise ; 
 " you have not forgiven me for my morning's impulse. 
 But it was the right impulse that took me to Wol- 
 chester to explain everything for myself. I could not 
 relate all that I wished to say in a letter, and I had so 
 much to tell him, and so many foolish fears to dissipate. 
 You know what he is ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know what he is. He gave you his con- 
 sent ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " xind you are happy at last. So much the better 
 for you. What are we standing here for ?" 
 
 " Mr. Delancy is waiting to bid you good-night, aunt" 
 
 •' I do not know Mr. Delancy — he is no friend of 
 mine, that I am aware," she said, harshly, as she turned 
 away and walked towards her hut.
 
 272 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 " You must not mind her," said Anne, in intercession. 
 " She is not always like this ; my going away has dis- 
 turbed her a little, and she is naturally irritable to 
 strangers. Good-night, and many, many thanks from 
 me." 
 
 " Good-night," he echoed. Then he drove away, not 
 very much surprised at the wish of Anne Judge to 
 find another home for herself, but very much disposed 
 to accept Anne's excuse for her aunt. 
 
 *' Put out, no doubt, by her niece's step this morning," 
 he said. " And tired with late hours and over-work. 
 A well-meaning woman, with a most abominable 
 temper. I shall not make Aunt Mary an offer of 
 marriage myself, despite her one great virtue." 
 
 He drove to the Gull Inn, left the horse and chaise 
 in Mr. Aynard's name, hoped that the landlord had 
 recovered last Saturday's excitement, and then walked 
 on to Prospect Terrace, where Mrs. Simmonds received 
 him as a prodigal son, and would have wept on his 
 shoulder at his return had he allowed the liberty. 
 
 He went straight to his bed, where he slept till ten 
 o'clock the next morning, tired out with boating, driving, 
 and the oreneral excitement to which he had been a 
 victim since first setting foot in Ilpham. How long he 
 would have slept it is difficult to say, for the servant 
 aroused him at the hour indicated by rapping on the 
 panels of the door. 
 
 " What's the matter now ?" he asked, perfectly pre-
 
 delancy's warning. 273 
 
 pared' to receive a new piece of startling intelligence 
 that should take him once more out of the common 
 way. 
 
 " Mr. Weston of St. Bride's has called, sir." 
 
 " Oh ; is it anything about the psalms and volun- 
 taries? Has he any music in his hand ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir,'' 
 
 " Tell him that I'm in bed, and that I never get up 
 till tea-time." 
 
 He went off to sleep once more after issuing this 
 order to his spiritual pastor and temporal master, and 
 was driven from slumber half an hour afterwards by the 
 voice of Mrs. Simmonds through the key-hole, asking 
 him if he would prefer his breakfast in bed that 
 morning. 
 
 " No, I shouldn't," he called out, as he turned him- 
 self over restlessly ; " it's a sloppy proceeding, and the 
 crumbs are annoying afterwards." 
 
 " \Miat time would you like to be called, sir ?" 
 
 " About half-past six this evening." 
 
 "My goodness!" Mrs. Simmonds exclaimed, as she 
 went down-stairs, " how he must have been racketing 
 about with that there Mr. Aynard." 
 
 But before Mrs. Simmonds had reached the parlour 
 floor Ned Delancy was at his morning toilet. 
 
 " It's of no use," he said, " tliere will never come 
 peace to me at Ilpham ; I may as well be prepared for 
 the next surprise, whatever it is. This will be a fine 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 AXXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 stirring life for me down here, I have so many people 
 on my mind already." 
 
 He had his breakfast in the front room, where he 
 found, for the first time, that Doctor Day had called 
 that morning, had expressed a wish that Mr. Delancy 
 might not be disturbed on his account, and had left his 
 card with P. P. C. written in the corner. 
 
 " P. P. C, eh," quoted Ned ; " then he's off to Lon- 
 don and to business again ; leaving his sister behind 
 him at Markham's Hotel, or taking her with him, I 
 wonder ?" 
 
 After breakfast he walked to Markham's Hotel, and 
 ascertained that Doctor Day had left for Wolchester 
 that morning, and that Lady Burlinson was not at home 
 — which he doubted, for no other reason than that the 
 man coloured when he looked him in the face, as though 
 not used to the business of denial yet. He left his card, 
 and then walked round to the Gull Inn, feeling a 
 friendly interest in the thoroughbred that had been of 
 gi*eat service to him yesterday, and anxious to see that 
 she had been cared for, and was likely to be cared for, 
 before she was fetched away to-morrow. 
 
 Here a little surprise awaited him. Mr. xlynard had 
 called for the mare, left the chaise, and gone away on 
 horseback towards Thirby Cross, as fast as he could 
 ride. 
 
 " Very good," said Ned, as he walked away from the 
 Gull, " I am not going to trouble myself to find a reason
 
 delancy's warning. 275 
 
 for this movement. Mr. Aynard lias a perfect right to 
 call for his horse whenever he thinks fit, and if he alters 
 his mind from Thursday to Wednesday, there is nothing 
 very remarkable in that." 
 
 He had his early dinner at Prospect Terrace, and 
 upon second thoughts fancied that it was a little remark- 
 able that Mr. Aynard had not called upon him ; then 
 he dismissed the subject, and wrote a second letter to 
 his mother, telling her that he had visited his cousins 
 Ridkins last night, and that he found them sorry and 
 then glad to see him, and that he hoped, that having 
 proved he bore no enmity against them, he should never 
 see them any more. He went out to drop this letter 
 into the post-office, and was met coming back by a 
 suave individual, who believed that he was addressing 
 Mr. Delancy. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Ned. " What is it now ?" 
 
 It was a writ which was put in his hand with a satis- 
 factory flourish, and which Ned discovered to be a pro- 
 cess calling upon him to appear in London as a witness 
 for the plaintiff, Felix Aynard, in the case of Aynard v. 
 Aynard, in the first week of the month next ensuing. 
 He was subpoenaed. 
 
 " Very good," said Ned again, thrusting the sum- 
 mons in his coat pocket as though it had been his 
 handkerchief; "I'll be there. You will find that my 
 expenses are rather heavy." 
 
 " Oh, that is of no consequence. Good-day, sir."
 
 276 AXNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 The solicitors for the plaintiff were of a London 
 firm not known to him, and he was altogether in the 
 dark as to the reason for summoning him to speak to 
 the prejudice of Hugh Aynard of Thirby Cross. 
 
 "It is only one more little trouble," said Ned; 
 "and I fancy that my evidence against Hugh will 
 scarcely pay for the expense to which I shall put his 
 relations. This is the trial that has been in agitation 
 for some time, I suppose. I must speak to Aynard. 
 about it again, and tell him that I am subpoenaed for 
 the plaintiff, and intend to speak up for the defendant, 
 not holding with this kind of thing at all." 
 
 This kind of thing, as he termed it, afforded him 
 matter for reflection till his tea was brought to him, and 
 did not get quite out of his head when he was in the 
 organ-loft of St. Bride's, and the Wednesday evening 
 service had been commenced by Mr. Weston. A quiet 
 service, to a select body of worshippers — a service 
 which was discontinued in the winter owing to the 
 reluctance of the inhabitants to face the wind and rain 
 and darkness, and was, judging by appearances that 
 evening, not too liberally supported in the summer 
 time. There was a sparse congregation amongst the 
 pews, and Ned saw that Lady Burlinson was in the 
 seat that she had occupied on Sunday last, and that 
 she was far more attentive to the service than when eh 
 had peeped down at her from his red curtains for the 
 first time and thought how little changed she was. So
 
 delaxcy's warxixg. 277 
 
 attentive, that he looked forth again when 3[r. Weston 
 had begun his sermon, and was struck even more with 
 her intent upward gaze at the minister, her interest in 
 a sermon which he thougrht was a lono^er and duller one 
 than he had ever heard in his life. 
 
 He played the congregation out of church rather 
 quickly ; he thought that he would overtake Lady 
 Burlinson if possible, and give her that warning upon 
 which he had resolved, notwithstanding his growing 
 fancy for Hugh Aynard, and his better thoughts of her 
 whom he desired to warn. But the warning was 
 delayed by Mr. Weston, who came into the organ-loft 
 and fixed his organist for three quarters of an hour* 
 talking of new music and his ideas concerning it. He 
 did not venture to advise Edmund Delancy on that 
 particular occasion, and they parted good fi-iends 
 enough, although the younger man was slightly vexed 
 at the delay. 
 
 The next morning Delancy went towards Markham's 
 Hotel again. He had almost promised Lady Burlin- 
 son that he would not attempt to see her, but he did 
 not feel justified in not apprising her of his idea of Mr 
 Aynard's character. Her brother he distrusted, and 
 he did not know how far George Day might have 
 deceived his sister, in his anxiety to make a grand 
 match for her. He would do his duty, and that duty 
 performed, they might see him as little as they pleased 
 — never again for what he cared, he thought.
 
 278 AXXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 Lady Burlinson was out, he was informed once 
 more ; the waiter fancied that she had gone towards 
 the sands. Would Mr. Delancy wait whilst he asked 
 Mr. Day's valet, who had not departed to town \^4th 
 his master ? Mr. Delancy waited with great pleasure, 
 and the valet, a short, sallow-faced man, whom Ned 
 fancied he had seen hovering near the sideboard in the 
 dining-room last ^londay, came forward with a re- 
 verential bow. 
 
 Yes, his mistress had gone on the sands. She had 
 left word that if Mr. Delancy called, he would find her 
 on the sands of Ilpham. 
 
 Ned marvelled at this attention, and was inclined to 
 feel that he had done Lady Burlinson an injustice yes- 
 terday in supposing that she had denied herself to him. 
 He thanked the valet, and went down the steps towards 
 the sea-shore in search of the woman whom he had 
 once loved. A glance along the road sufficed to show 
 him that Lady Burlinson was not amongst the dozen 
 visitors, the fifty children, and the nursemaids there ; if 
 she were on the lower ground at all it must be round by 
 the soft brown cliffs stretching still further away from 
 the town and town life. And there he found her at 
 last, a good mile from Ilpham, hidden away, as it 
 were, behind a breakwater, which he surmounted, and 
 dropped down at her side. 
 
 She had been walking thoughtfully along by the 
 water's edge until this breakwater had been reached,
 
 DELANCY's WARNIXG. 279 
 
 then she had skirted it by ascending the sloping earth, 
 and had taken her seat on the other side with an 
 unopened novel in her lap. 
 
 " I wonder that you found me here," she said, look- 
 ing up at him very steadily — '*' that you ventured to 
 come as far as this in search of me." 
 
 *' You had left word that you would be on the sands, 
 and I should have walked on until I had discovered 
 you." 
 
 " Believing in my word ? — thank you," she answered, 
 coldly. " I did not expect at first to ramble on so 
 far as this, but I was in a travelling mood, and 
 had not this place seemed a fitting one for reverie, I 
 should have gone on to where the water plays against 
 that clifi'. Have you anything to tell me, Mr. Delancy ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have." 
 
 " I thought that you would not have sought me 
 otherwise," she said, with affected carelessness. 
 
 " Your brother has left for London, or I would have 
 spared you this meeting, or have sought it only in 
 his presence," said Delancy. 
 
 " For a few days he is in London. Will not your 
 news keep ?" 
 
 " I can scarcely call it news. Shall I sit down here 
 and get through my story as quickly as 1 can ?" 
 
 " We will walk on, I think." 
 
 He assisted her to rise, and then they went on 
 together, she keeping close to the water's edge, and 
 looking down very thoughtfully as she walked. He
 
 280 ANNE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 would have preferred her proceeding towards the 
 town, but he did not give expression to that preference. 
 
 " I wish to speak to you concerning Mr. Aynard." 
 
 She struck her skirt lightly with the book she carried, 
 and said : 
 
 " Why concerning him ?" 
 
 " It is probable that you will be engaged to him ; I 
 have this from your brother's lips — from Mr. Aynard's." 
 
 " Pray receive it from my own too. It is extremely 
 probable." 
 
 " I trust as an old friend, as one still interested 
 in your future " 
 
 She flinched at this, and he stopped. 
 
 " Go on, sir," she said, at last, " I am listening 
 attentively." 
 
 " As one still interested in your future, that you will 
 take the advice I offer you in the spirit with which it is 
 conveyed. Well, I ask you, for your Dwn sake, to con- 
 sider seriously the step that will bind you by a promise 
 to become Hugh Aynard's wife." 
 
 " I have considered that step so seriously that I 
 have found more grey hairs than one amongst the gold 
 here," she said, touching her hair lightly with her 
 gloved hand. 
 
 " You fear that step then, or its consequences ?" 
 
 " Why should I be afraid to make this step, if I feel 
 assured that I shall make Mr. Aynard a good wife, and 
 Mr. Aynard's life far more happy than it is ?" 
 
 " If you love him I have no more to say," said
 
 detj^ncy's warxixg. 281 
 
 Delancy, bowing, " and I will go back to Ilpham satis- 
 fied that all is for the best. That he is a strange raan, 
 you are aware as well as I, Lady Burlinson ; childlike 
 in some views of life, easily pleased, easily offended, 
 eccentric in his habits, and jealous — intensely jealous — 
 of anything that stands, or seems to stand, between him 
 and the object of his passion. The love of a thought- 
 ful woman will understand all this without any preach- 
 ing on my part, and will so brighten Hugh Aynard's 
 life as to save him from much misery, which isolation is 
 but deepening in him now. A woman who loves him 
 can save him, but the woman who only respects him 
 will sink herself and him." 
 
 " You are afraid that I may wreck my future as well 
 as his own ; you are fearful for me ?" 
 
 " Not if you love him," he persisted. 
 
 " Do you think Mr. Aynard mad ?" 
 
 «No." 
 
 " A man whom a great disappointment would di'ive 
 mad?" 
 
 " Yes, I think that that is possible." 
 
 " And this solicitude is for Mr. Aynard, or — for 
 me ?" she asked, after a slight pause, during which her 
 lips compressed as with a sudden pain. 
 
 " I have said already that I am interested in your 
 future, Lady Burlinson — that I shall be glad to hear, 
 at any time, that you are happy. And I am also very 
 suddenly and very remarkably interested in the future
 
 282 AXXE JUDGE, SPINSTER. 
 
 of Mr. Aynard. I have taken to him, as the phrase 
 runs, for he seems a man almost as friendless as myself, 
 and I would not have his greatest disappointment occur 
 at this time, when his mind is ill at ease." 
 
 " You were with him at his boat-house in the Back- 
 water ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He has told me that, and of the chief subject of 
 your conversation there. How passionately, and yet 
 how foolishly, he loved me. How frankly you con- 
 fessed to him that you had outlived a fancy of which 
 I was the undeserving object." 
 
 " He has told you all this — you have seen him, then ?" 
 
 " I saw him yesterday morning, and accepted him 
 for my future husband. So, Mr. Delancy, your warning 
 comes too late." 
 
 " The engagement is begun, then — and the mar- 
 
 " Will take place in two months, if Mr. Aynard 
 be fortunate enough to win the day against his rela- 
 tions, who consider him unfit to have the free control of 
 his property, or of himself. It is all settled, sir." 
 
 She did not speak with any exultation at her con- 
 quest ; she even turned away her face from him, lest he 
 should see that it was strangely moved. But he was 
 surprised, and not thinking of her feelings in the matter. 
 
 '• You will let me offer you my congratulations, 
 then," he said. " I am glad for both of you — for
 
 DELANCy'3 WARNING. 283 
 
 you would DOt have accepted this man if you had 
 not seen his virtues, his great affection, and so have 
 loved him in return. Lady Burlinson, I wish that 
 you had told me at once that it was all settled, then I 
 might have spared you some amount of pain." 
 
 " No matter, sir ; we women can bear pain." 
 
 " Shall you return to Harley Street, or remain in 
 Ilpham, till this case comes on ?" he asked. 
 
 " I shall remain at Thirby Cross." 
 
 *' At Thirby Cross !" cried Delancy in amazement. 
 " At Mr. Aynard's house?' 
 
 " My brother will remain in London for a month 
 or two," she said, coolly, " and Mr. Aynard with him ; 
 they will be much employed fighting their battle against 
 the mercenaries. Meanwhile, an hotel is not a fitting 
 place for me, and Mr. Aynard has pressed me very 
 much, very earnestly, to constitute Thirby Cross my 
 home whilst he remains away from it. Do you see 
 anything objectionable in this ?" 
 
 " No," answered Xed, " it is his forethought. He 
 would have you judge of Thirby Cross by experience 
 before you become its mistress." 
 
 " Yes. It is like offering me a chance to draw back 
 at the eleventh hour," she said, " if I am afraid of it 
 or him. But I shall not be afraid — I have made up 
 my mind. Being a woman inclined to affectation in 
 matters of this delicate description, I hesitated to go 
 there at first," she continued, in a different tone,
 
 284 ANNE JUDGE, SriNSTER. 
 
 " but Mr. Aynard pressed me so earnestly, and my 
 brother so seconded his persuasions, that I have con- 
 sented, even against my will. I leave for Thirby Cross 
 before the week is out, and it may be as well, Mr. 
 Delancy, that I should wish you good-bye now." 
 
 She extended her hand suddenly to him, and he 
 took it in his own and re-echoed her good-bye. 
 
 She did not ask him to come to Thirby Cross when 
 she was Mrs. Aynard, and he her husband's friend — 
 and after all, that might have been an invitation some- 
 what premature. He left her still wandering away 
 from Ilpham, as though the place were distasteful to 
 her, and beyond there, where the white cliffs met the 
 brown, lay a something brighter and purer to which 
 her weak footsteps would advance. He looked after 
 her when he was a long way towards home again, when 
 he was ascending to the upper ground and could follow 
 the curve of the sands for miles. She was still wander- 
 ing slowly in the opposite direction — walking steadily 
 and persistently away from him. It seemed as if their 
 lives were never to cross again, that they had turned 
 their backs upon each other for good, as he watched 
 her slight figure moving onwards by the sea, and never, 
 never looking back regretfully. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LOXDOX: PRnCTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFOBD STEEET 
 AKD CHAEIKG CEOSS.
 
 Milton House, 
 
 LuDGATE Hill, 
 
 September, 1867. 
 
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 Oh ! wotild some fay the giflle gie us 
 To see ourselves as ithers see us ! 
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 UNIVERSmr OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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