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 IT BRAR 
 
 OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 623 
 
 v.\
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Br 
 
 W. G. WILLS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "LIFE'S FORESHADOWINGS; 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HUKST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 18(51. 
 
 Therii/hlof Translation it reserved.
 
 LONDON 
 
 PBIKI ° BT SPOTT1SWOODK iSD CO. 
 
 NKW-STHEET SQUARE
 
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MEAD HILL. 
 
 William Tunbridge, Esq., was the pro- 
 prietor of an estate in Lancashire, with a 
 rental of about two thousand a-year. I 
 know little about the man beyond what is 
 set down to his favour on the slab in Lower 
 Weston Church — the character of all the 
 dead since Adam who can afford a head- 
 
 j- stone. 
 
 He had two daughters — Jane and Ruth ; 
 and this much is remembered against him, 
 that he showed to the eldest a warm par- 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 tiality which tended to injure her nature ; 
 she was a hot, domineering child, and a self- 
 willed, self-loving woman. She married a 
 wealthy retired wine-merchant of Liverpool, 
 Sir Hugh Bunbury, who was knighted on 
 some formal pretext, as is usual ; and by him 
 she had a son. This lad then was to be heir 
 to his father's thousands and to Mead Hill 
 domain. He was sickly, and laboured 
 under a scrofulous disorder which sapped 
 his constitution slowly. Now the will 
 provided that should he die without 
 heirs the estate should go to Kuth's eldest 
 son. 
 
 A few years after marriage, Lady Bun- 
 bury separated from her husband, finding 
 an incompatibility of temper, and other 
 reasons stronger and less pardonable. By 
 mutual agreement her son remained with 
 her. Her father was dead; the ugly old 
 family house had been shut up many 
 months, and was injured from damp and 
 neglect. She resolved to live in it, restore 
 its ancient comfort, and manage the domain 
 in person. Her husband' soon regretted the
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 3 
 
 separation, and wrote many repentant 
 letters, but she was implacable so far as 
 it concerned herself. She permitted, 
 however, occasional visits of his son to 
 Liverpool, lest he might be forgotten. The 
 Knight's end was sudden; and there was 
 an inquest on his remains, which, I find by 
 the " Annual Kegister," gave the verdict 
 "Died by the Visitation of God." He 
 had fretted much, and I've heard it sur- 
 mised that he hastened his end. He willed 
 all his money to his wife, and a rambling 
 letter, sealed and directed, was found in his 
 bureau, beseeching her ladyship's forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 Euth, her sister, was of an opposite cast 
 of character, developed, if not formed, by 
 the circumstances of her early home. For 
 Nature still adapts the disposition to the 
 requirements of situation, just as, for its 
 safety, she colours the snipe's back like the 
 sod in which it lurks, and the woodpecker 
 takes the hues of its branch. 
 
 In childhood she was neglected and re- 
 pelled, so she grew patient, dexterous, and 
 
 B 2
 
 4 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 watchful, and took time to compass her little 
 ends. She used to steal into the affections 
 of big- whiskered gentlemen, first approach- 
 ing from behind, then laying a waxen hand 
 upon the chair, then with a whisper and sly 
 coax. Many a sip of wine she won by 
 kissing their file-rough chins! She had 
 the perseverance of a pussy ; she often took 
 half an hour to manoeuvre a bunch of grapes 
 which seemed as much beyond a child's 
 hopes as a pension is beyond mine. 
 
 Her womanhood preserved the same pa- 
 tient cast. She married a German gen- 
 tleman, learned and irascible. He was 
 Professor of Comparative Philology at 
 Cambridge, where he wrote several meta- 
 physical works. 
 
 Dr. Brom came from Lubeck. In Jacobi- 
 Kirche his ancestors sleep ; their names 
 covering the stone flags of the aisle. 
 
 Ruth had by the doctor four children, of 
 whom one only survived infancy, by name 
 John. From childhood John Brom evinced 
 an extraordinary talent, both in acquiring 
 information and in commenting upon books
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 5 
 
 he had read or facts he heard discussed. 
 His father recognised these indications, and 
 carefully and solidly ministered to them. 
 Politics and history used to be discussed 
 between the child and man, and grave de- 
 cisions offered by the former, shrewd re- 
 marks, and small sharp criticisms made the 
 pale doctor smile half in amusement and 
 half in pride. John grew to the age of 
 fourteen in old company, and then was sent 
 
 to a public school on the coast of . 
 
 Here he quickly headed his class, and carried 
 off every prize. He was an inveterate 
 reader, and quickly exhausted the literary 
 store of the head master, still panting for 
 more books. 
 
 Amongst his schoolfellows he acquired 
 much glory by clever squibs and comic 
 verses, and sometimes by a little flight into 
 heroics; but in this distinction he had a 
 competitor — a rough unsociable lad, by 
 name James Heath, whom the boys used 
 to call Lady Heath, from his radiant skin 
 and " lint- white " hair, though the unlady- 
 like retaliation of two strong fists often 
 
 B 3
 
 6 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 made the term scarcely happy. James 
 Heath was a desultory student of all books 
 unconnected with his education, and had a 
 gift or defect, which you please, of string- 
 ing verses and producing quaint original 
 compositions. James Heath and John 
 Brom felt rivalry, and, as is often the case 
 in young minds, were attracted to one an- 
 other, rather than repelled, by their jealousy. 
 They began to cultivate their gifts with 
 charming amity. John flattered Jamie, 
 and Jamie flattered John, and much gra- 
 tification ensued. 
 
 One midsummer examination a prize 
 for English prose composition was proposed, 
 and there was a general feeling among the 
 boys that it lay between Heath and Brom. 
 The rivals knew it to be so, and toiled at 
 their little essays with keen excitement. 
 They agreed that, as usual, they would 
 compare the result of their labours, when 
 their work was complete. 
 
 It was an anxious business this. The 
 successful essay was to be printed and cir- 
 culated among the parents of the boys;
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 7 
 
 which, to a schoolboy, was Fame too great 
 to contemplate. 
 
 Heath read out his production as they 
 sat by the sea, on whose blue expanse the 
 far waves twinkled. 
 
 John Brom heard him to the end with- 
 out a word. At the conclusion, when 
 Jamie looked up, flushed and expectant, he 
 made a few disparaging comments, and 
 then produced his own little roll of MS. 
 leisurely. Heath, gulped down his disap- 
 pointment, and recovered from the shock; 
 he listened angrily — resolved to be honest, 
 and so he was, I promise you. He dis- 
 sected Ms friend's style and opinions with 
 frightful candour wherever he could per- 
 ceive either error or fault. 
 
 " Thank you, Jem," said John Brom, 
 when he had finished. " I wanted your 
 true opinion as a stranger. Now, I'll tell 
 you what I admire in yours ;" and he praised 
 poor Jamie's composition till Jamie's 
 cheeks tingled. 
 
 John Brom made good use of the criti- 
 cism he had educed, and won the prize. 'Tis 
 
 B 4
 
 8 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 a trick which would win many a greater 
 prize. Compliments are as plenty as the 
 daisies to him who will stoop to gather 
 them. We are often ruined by our honey - 
 tongued friends — distorted truth is better 
 than their kind lies. 
 
 Jamie Heath conceived a respect for 
 Brom, took him into confidence and sought 
 his friendship ; his fond honest nature soon 
 succeeded, and their rivalry ripened into 
 love — and boys can love. 
 
 Brom entered Cambridge at seventeen, 
 and continued his career as he had com- 
 menced it. He won every distinction open 
 to him. After he had completed his course, 
 he read sturdily for the Bar, and entered 
 his name at the Inner Temple. When 
 called, he commenced professional life under 
 some disadvantages. He was a stranger 
 in London, and unaccredited by name or 
 means. First year he made three guineas ; 
 second, almost a hundred; third, two 
 hundred and fifty; fourth, dropped to a 
 hundred, and after that an average of about 
 three hundred a year.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 9 
 
 James Heath chose the medical profes- 
 sion, and worked fitfully at the necessary 
 studies, yet passed his examination with 
 tolerable credit. He settled in Lancashire, 
 as an assistant to his uncle, who was medi- 
 cal practitioner of the Lower Weston 
 townland, and found poetry, though a drug 
 in the market, quite incompatible with the 
 medicine shop. 
 
 Meanwhile, her Ladyship had entered 
 upon her wealthy widowhood calmly ; 
 she showed great practical talent and 
 shrewdness in her stewardship for her 
 boy, devoting herself to the improvement 
 of the demesne, clothing the hills with 
 vigorous plantations, larch, ash, and oak, 
 draining the low lands, and turning them 
 to pasture, improving the condition of the 
 tenantry, and thus, without oppression, 
 gradually raising the rents ; but her boy's 
 health declined, and she began to lose heart ; 
 she would have given a thousand pounds 
 a month to buy dear breath for him, but 
 every day he became more feeble, and 
 died one comfortless winter month. She
 
 10 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 had managed and planned and stored for 
 another. 
 
 Grieving and embittered she left Mead 
 Hill, and took a large double house in 
 Lower Weston, where she lived in costly 
 loneliness till the narrow-chested Professor 
 Brom died, and left her sister a widow. 
 Though quite unequal to forgive her nephew 
 for superseding her deceased son, never- 
 theless, she found motives enough to desire 
 her sister's presence. Mrs. Brom came 
 eagerly, and took up her abode with her, 
 full of vague and wistful hope that her son 
 would be adopted by her ladyship, and that 
 her wealth might still be grafted upon 
 the domains like verdure on a trunk. 
 
 Her Ladyship found comfort, in her 
 bitterness and mortification, in placing 
 this hope before the eyes of her affectionate 
 sister ; now presenting it, and anon snap- 
 ping it away — for she had grown old and 
 sour — her virtues had partly curdled into 
 vices ; she found the power of wealth, and 
 took her pleasure therein ; she took to 
 herself eccentricities, and was steadfast
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 11 
 
 only in her dislikes, and she had settled 
 down at last into a fat, sly old lady. 
 
 But John Brom was the lord of Mead 
 Hill domain. He did not, therefore, resign 
 his profession. He had tasted of know- 
 ledge, and loved it as the lion loves blood. 
 He read a wide range of books old and 
 new, avoiding those curious but barren 
 studies which absorb time and life, serving 
 no end save wordy victories. History, the 
 home and foreign politics of to-day and 
 of past centuries, formed his chief culture, 
 and a remarkable memory retained what 
 he gathered. 
 
 It was an inventive period. Speculation 
 was in the air, and he took, in common 
 with all original minds, a very great in- 
 terest in the Titan project of the iron rail. 
 He bought shares in the Liverpool and 
 Manchester Railway, then in progress, and 
 was pleased that it should run through 
 part of his land. 
 
 As is often the case with studious men, 
 he was not very prudent in the practical 
 employment of his means. A little specu-
 
 12 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 lation in railways might have done him 
 no harm, and, as the event ultimately 
 proved, would have been safe and profit- 
 able. He was well remunerated for that 
 piece of land through which the line was 
 to run, but he entered on the enjoyment 
 of his fortune by a monstrous extrava- 
 gance. Having taken a very natural dis- 
 gust to the ugly damp old mansion of 
 his fathers and its miserable site, he chose 
 a beautiful spot on a hill side, and began 
 to build a stately house ; he had a beau- 
 tiful tinted drawing of its design hung 
 up in his room, with models of a fine 
 stable-yard and graceful gate-house ; he 
 employed an architect of high character, 
 and, formidable as was the estimate for 
 the erection of the new mansion, the walls 
 began to arise. 
 
 His kind friends and neighbours imme- 
 diately christened the building " Brom's 
 Folly."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 13 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 COACHING DAYS. 
 
 The Manchester mail coach comes rattling 
 up the hill in all its glory, with a heavy 
 swing and a gallant tossing of foam, wheels 
 of bright vermilion, and panels of green 
 and .gold. Perched aloft is the dandy 
 coachy — the pink of coachies — the far- 
 famed Kit, or Sir Kit, as he was pleasantly 
 called ; best whip in all Lancashire. He 
 holds the ribbons over four dashing horses, 
 tearing on as if for their lives. The off- 
 wheeler is evidently skittish and wilful, with 
 her ears back and her vixen head askew. Sir 
 Kit was never happy unless he had what he 
 called a bit of mischief under his wrist. 
 
 How was the great man attired ? In a 
 swell bottle-green swallow-tailed coat, but- 
 toned across his chest, with a geranium in
 
 14 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 the button-hole ; satin stock, shapely- 
 beaver, a little cocked aside, and a cigar 
 under his purple nose. Firmly aslant and 
 well forward on the foot-board were his 
 legs, neatly swaddled in a plaid rug. He 
 held his reins low and steady — there was 
 science in the very slope of his whip. 
 
 The sporting Lord B sits on one side, 
 
 having but lately resigned the reins to Sir 
 Kit, after an hour's amateur driving — and 
 Mr. Brom on the other, flushed with the 
 quiet delight of a visit to his mother's 
 home, and beginning to recognise, old 
 haunts. It is the beginning of the long 
 vacation, and he has come round by Man- 
 chester, where important business had 
 summoned him. 
 
 u That brute has made you late this 
 morning," said Lord B . 
 
 " Joost late enow to be walcome, ma 
 Lord." 
 
 "How many miles an hour, Sir Kit?" 
 asked Mr. Brom. 
 
 " Osses 'ud catch cold under fourteen 
 mile, Sir," said Sir Kit, who never under-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 15 
 
 rated his powers. He gave a flourish of his 
 whip and a word to the off- wheeler, and 
 arching down their necks, the gallant four 
 stretched up the hill like a flight of racers. 
 These were Sir Kit's palmy days. 
 
 Inside the coach were luxury and so- 
 ciability, now quite gone from earth. The 
 snuffy antiquarian gentleman, be sure, was 
 there to amuse us by his quaintness and 
 his hobbies. The pretty girl, doubt not, 
 was within, to whom we, as courteous 
 strangers, used to offer quiet gallantries, 
 from whom we used to catch smiles, and 
 with whom, in fact, we used to fall in love for 
 an hour. The hospitable man of substance 
 and estate was within, with his double chin, 
 his good-natured roar of laughter, red cheek, 
 and vinous eye ; with whom we might 
 strike up a sudden acquaintance, share his 
 sherry and sandwich, and get asked to 
 shoot over his preserves. In a word, all 
 our coaching friends were within. 
 
 Good-bye to these pleasant bygones! 
 Old conservatives like me regret you 
 among many other things. Mr. Brom
 
 16 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 drew Sir Kit into chat. In these days 
 Sir Kit's hilarious nature was always under 
 disciplined restraint when on duty — 
 though as he dashed up a hill, or scienti- 
 fically shaved round a sharp turn, he would 
 sometimes lift his whip in breezy salute, 
 or give a short whoop in the pride of his 
 heart. 
 
 " Eh, Kit, what 'ill ye do when Gowan and 
 Stephenson run their steam locomotives?" 
 
 " Wal, Sir, if 'ave time I'll ga laugh at 
 'em wi' th' rest o' us, I suppose." 
 
 " But if they win the public custom from 
 you?" 
 
 " Ye might as wal bolt a Yorkshire 
 ham as swallow yon ' if,' Maester Broom." 
 
 " You can't do the traffic, Kit," said Mr. 
 Brom; " look at all the cotton lying idle in 
 Liverpool for want of transport." 
 
 " How's th' world got along all this time, 
 Maester Broom, we'd coats and socks all 
 th' same, ha'n't we? afore this here cussid 
 steam was thought on. On'y putt it into 
 th' yeds o' people nowaday that we want a 
 tunnel bored reet throof th' world to
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 17 
 
 America, an' they'll talk o' nowt else, an' 
 be content wi' nowt else. Look'ee at that 
 ere sportin' team, Maester, look'ee how we 
 mak' th' ditches flee aroun' and away; 
 ask ye better than that? why, yo'll wait 
 then!" 
 
 " Remember my words, Kit," said my 
 
 facetious Lord B ; " in five years from 
 
 this we'll be travelling this road by steam." 
 
 " Yo'll have a tramway, no dawt, ma 
 Lord ; but ye'll enjoy that looxury to- 
 morrow in th' colleries down there ; for my 
 own pert I prefer this style o' goin'." 
 
 As they were talking they entered the 
 purlieus of a small country town called 
 Lower Weston, at the further extremity of 
 which stood the ostler and fresh horses 
 awaiting them. They pulled up, and Mr. 
 Brom got down. Sir Kit also descended to 
 have a toss of neat at the bar. These nips 
 were as regular and progressive as clock 
 chimes — till Kit was wound up and ready 
 for bed. Mr. Brom having tipped him a 
 crown, and paid the usual black-mail to 
 
 vol. i. c 

 
 18 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 guard and porter, started down the sun- 
 shiny road on foot. 
 
 While he was still about a mile from home 
 he saw his mother. She came on hastily, 
 and though he was yet distant stretched out 
 her arms to him. 
 
 Sad and joyful both are these loving 
 welcomes home ; how sad is the memory of 
 them when the arms that used to fold us 
 are mouldering ! 
 
 The first glow of meeting over, Mrs. 
 Brom leant on the arm of her son, and they 
 sauntered slowly home. 
 
 He gave her bright descriptions of his 
 plans and successes, the first being really 
 very brilliant, and the latter only average ; 
 in fact there was no comparison between 
 them. A brief which he had argued 
 adroitly, or a compliment from a judge, 
 would somehow get mingled up queerly 
 with the planting of centenarian oaks and 
 the building of a stately house. 
 
 " I hope you've a taste for architecture, 
 mother," said he ; " for it's likely you'll 
 hear nothing else from me."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 19 
 
 a And I shall choose landscape garden- 
 ing for my hobby," smiled his mother. 
 
 " So that any unfortunate friend who 
 gets between us," laughed Mr. Brom, 
 " will have a weary life of it." 
 
 " No one shall get between us," she said, 
 only half in jest. 
 
 Presently she said, with some earnest- 
 ness, and pressing his arm : 
 
 " We must try to remove an unfortunate 
 impression from my sister's mind." 
 
 " What's the unfortunate impression this 
 time?" said Mr. Brom, with a little im- 
 patience. 
 
 " She has taken such a prejudice to your 
 building ; she says it is a speculation on her 
 death, and keeps harping so upon this sus- 
 picion, that I declare I shrink from meeting 
 her of late." « 
 
 "What has possessed her with such a 
 fancy ? " 
 
 "Why, she asserts you could not hope 
 to keep up such an establishment during 
 her lifetime. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " You never told me a word of this in 
 your letters, mother." 
 
 " I wouldn't fret you, love, and I waited 
 to see you, in the hope something might be 
 done. She is so jealous, — you can't con- 
 ceive how bitter. I only hope 'twill fall on 
 me alone." 
 
 " But this is intolerable. I'll make it my 
 business, mother ; it shall not fall upon you." 
 
 " Oh, be very cautious, love, for my sake. 
 If you would spare me, be very cautious ; 
 it is so delicate a subject, I'm quite sorry 
 I mentioned it to you on this day, to spoil 
 your welcome; not a word more to-day 
 about it." 
 
 She told him all the parish news, and 
 among other things, how his friend, Surgeon 
 Heath, general practitioner, was to be dis- 
 missed to make way for a better man. Mr. 
 Brom was grieved to hear it. 
 
 " Mother, we must not let him go ; we 
 must make a great effort to keep poor 
 Jemmy. He's the last honest man left in 
 Lower Weston."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 21 
 
 So they talked and talked with the press 
 of many subjects upon them, till they came 
 to a tall lone house with a trim garden 
 before it. This was Mrs. Brom's home. 
 
 " I'll give you a better home than this, 
 mother, in a few short years, and then — 
 Despots a has !" he whispered as they en- 
 tered. 
 
 She replied with a gesture of caution, 
 " She has. been kinder of late, love, but 
 I've not been altogether happy, or at ease." 
 
 She led him into a neat little parlour 
 with tempting refreshments all laid out; 
 she attended upon him herself, and was the 
 best and cheerfullest of company. 
 
 c 3
 
 22 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Mr. Brom was a pedestrian. Without a 
 taint in his constitution, and sound from 
 top to toe, he used to cross the border moun- 
 tains into Yorkshire, or rove through Cum- 
 berland by the Lakes ; a lover of Nature, 
 his was an untiring, deep, and, above all 
 things, silent love for her. 
 
 He rose before the sun, and started for a 
 long walk over these wooded hill brows, and 
 the sun was rising as he topped them. 
 
 It was a scene on which to look once was 
 to be grateful for the gift of life. The 
 morning fronted him, from whence came 
 floods of pale red light over the mosses, and 
 league-wide flushes, brightening, kindling at 
 every step he walked. A fire was shed 
 over his hands and cheeks like an immortal
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 23 
 
 bloom ; his tread rustles through the brown 
 ferns that seem like the ribbed skeletons of 
 some pigmy host. He passes beneath the 
 shadow of dwarf oaks, their branches 
 writhed up, green and golden snakes, crested 
 against the sun. 
 
 The sounds are few and solitary ; the fret 
 of the quests, the sudden gibber of the mag- 
 pie — a wood cynic — and the strong, bold 
 stride of a man through the chequerings, 
 gold and grey; all around him a drench 
 of glory, all around him the sorrowfulness 
 of great beauty. 
 
 He is smiling; his large brown eyes are 
 half hidden by their lids. 
 
 He is looking into the future ; catching 
 at the far trumpet -note of the struggle. 
 He is gazing in thought at the great prizes 
 that are up for competition, as a Titan 
 might have viewed the first sheer crag of 
 Olympus, as an ant might view a pea. 
 
 As he descended, the ferns were of taller 
 growth. Mr. Brom plunged through them 
 joyously. His spirits rose. A fallow deer 
 bounded across his track; he caught the 
 
 c 4
 
 24 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 gleam of his wild black eye as his timid 
 comrade of the wood glanced back a second, 
 and was lost in the verdure. Still his 
 spirits rose, and he sprang onwards with 
 free foot. He felt of the scene; his joy 
 was the self-same joy that gilded crag and 
 tree; he felt like the heir of a thousand 
 summers. Down the hill he went crash- 
 ing, and at a treacherous spot he fell ten 
 feet, precipitated on the mossy pile below — 
 fell lightly, and unhurt. He sprang up 
 with a laugh, glorying in his lusty strength. 
 His spirits rose higher; presently came a 
 stretch of springy heather, sloping gently ; 
 he ran swiftly down it with a loud view- 
 holloa, his spirits elated by the fresh in- 
 vigorating wind. 
 
 He paused on a level on a hill side, and 
 found himself in a space cleared for build- 
 ing. It was rudely railed in for about an 
 acre, and commanded a distant view of the 
 Mersey and pasture lands of Cheshire — 
 calm, smiling, and happy, specked with 
 drowsy cattle, and veined with curls of 
 smoke.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 25 
 
 Immediately about him the trenches were 
 cut, the foundations laid, and fragments of 
 the walls of a spacious family mansion were 
 rising. Here were pyramids of slaked lime, 
 pinky with morning light, layers of planks, 
 huge fasces of pine poles, reddened as if 
 kindling, the debris of sod and withered 
 branch tumbled away heedlessly, all limned 
 alike by day. 
 
 Hods and shovels streaked with lime were 
 hidden away beneath the brushwood; the 
 last print of the trowels was on the broad 
 piece of wall, and the dents of labourers' 
 clogs were thick as ants around, and stretch- 
 ing backward and forward along the hill 
 walk. They were hints of the busy life 
 which had haunted the spot last night, to 
 be renewed again to-day. 
 
 The master of the future mansion stands 
 in his own hall that is to be — it is cloud- 
 built already. 
 
 The grand avenue was nobly outlined in 
 many a curve, oak-pollards at intervals shoot- 
 ing out hopefully along it. A Swiss lodge 
 was supposed, and a stately gate guarded
 
 26 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 by stone sphynxes — the family crest. 
 His imaginative eye can see the carriages 
 rolling up this approach, and groups of 
 guests glimmering among the trees. He 
 can see herds of dappled deer, with antlers 
 thrown back, fleet down the meadow, or 
 crouch among the plumed ferns. 
 
 Twenty feet right above him in the blue 
 air, he ponders how his picture gallery, 
 lined with gems, his state room in costly 
 repose, his antiquely designed study shall 
 hang. 
 
 Hark to the laugh — the murmuring voices 
 of the future; they are coming; he seems 
 to hear them in the singing of the birds 
 and the hum of the insect host. Even now 
 the coming joys and sorrows seem shadowed 
 on the stones; ay, and the night-dreams 
 when the host and his guests are sleeping 
 along these corridors.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 27 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 THE STOKER. 
 
 Mr. Brom spent the day at his place, watch- 
 the building stealing up ; taking his meals 
 at the house of his steward. There was a 
 sort of demonstration got Up by his tenantry 
 on his return — cheers, and the rough, sweet 
 music of the peasants' tongue — rejoicings 
 for his sake which gratified him by their 
 novelty; and they formed a pleasing me- 
 mento of the responsibilities which a man 
 of property incurs when he finds that the 
 happiness of so many hearths are under his 
 auspices. These duties flattered his self- 
 love. Whilst the duties of poor men are 
 thorny to force through, and full of humi- 
 liation, the healthful luxuries of patronage 
 and philanthropy will canonise the wealthy. 
 His horse was brought him by his groom
 
 28 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 about six o'clock in the evening, and he 
 left the place by the rude temporary barrier 
 which opened upon the high road. 
 
 On the way back he turned his horse 
 into a small gateway; and, riding up the 
 avenue, found himself before a neat Eliza- 
 bethan cottage, with a piece of grass plat 
 before it, shining with rank hollyhocks and 
 tulips. At the open hall door stood an 
 untoward looking figure. 
 
 A great gaunt old fellow, with an eye 
 like a bison's, filled the doorway, a mas- 
 culine self-complacency set on his features. 
 He was attired in a dressing-gown of faded 
 richness ; a massive watch chain hung across 
 his waistcoat like a Lord Mayor's. His 
 hands, as he took them out of his pockets, 
 were hard, crooked, and soiled like a smith's. 
 The moment he saw Mr. Brom, he came 
 forward. 
 
 Good e'en t'ye, Measter Brom. I'm fain 
 t' see ye i' these parts again. Now I'st 
 say you coome to take a cup o' tay wi' me." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Go wan, I'm not going 
 in ; I just come to have a shake hands with
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 29 
 
 an old acquaintance, and congratulate you 
 on your last beautiful patent." 
 
 " Eh? the padestal and key you'd mean? 
 Wal, 'twere a neat trick, Measter, eh? 
 Hech ! hech ! hech ! Twere a pretty trick, 
 and simple enow when 'twere coome at, loo' 
 thee. Come, hop off, be it nobbut a second, 
 yo monnot treat me so unfriendly." And 
 Gowan caught hold of the bridle, and hal- 
 looed harshly to a servant within. 
 
 Mr. Brom would not have him trouble 
 himself; and again assured him he could 
 not delay. 
 
 " Ne'er heed me, ne'er heed me. Oft 
 I've 'eld a gentlemon's oss afore now. 
 Hoo's good pints th' hanimal too, an I con- 
 sider mysel a bit o' a joodge," he continued, 
 in a high-pitched key, which quite dissi- 
 pated any impression of humility. 
 
 " Naw, measter, I'll gi'e yo a oss in two- 
 three years, when the warld's enleetened 
 anow t' receive 'er; I've 'er in trainen in 
 theer. Eh, mon! loo' thee if hoo'll not 
 scamper ten mile an hour, beawt a 
 swat."
 
 30 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 "Your steam locomotive, I suppose. How 
 does it go on?" inquired Mr. Brom. 
 
 " Woy, dont I tell ye 'ow it'll go — ten 
 mile, an' a summat, two 'eavy weight men 
 on 'er back, and a carriage d'old a woal 
 jury behind 'er." 
 
 "Ay," laughed Mr. Brom, holding out his 
 hand to take leave, " for the inquest upon 
 the mangled engineer and fireman on the 
 first trip, eh, Mr. Gowan!" 
 
 " You'll not be fleein' thot way, Measter 
 Broom. I've a word wi' ye inside, an then 
 we'll to the tea and trimmin's. Yo shanno 
 ride ten moiles t' see th' owd Stoker, an' say 
 yo never broke yer fawst. Coom in. Hi, 
 'Ester, old the squire's oss, wilt thou ? " 
 
 " I fear I cannot, thank you," said Mr. 
 Brom. " I dined late, and must try to be 
 home with the light." 
 
 " Wall, we shall have our friendly word 
 inside fust; an then, woy, if ye don't 
 rellish the victuals, I must nobbut speed 
 yo. But I think we've a potted grouse 'ill 
 tempt ye, and other trifles o' the kind, if 
 yo can wash 'em down wi' tea; for I never
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 31 
 
 offer a young mon wine when I don't drink 
 it mysel'. 
 
 Mr. Gowan had commenced life as a 
 stoker in the Wigan collieries, and the 
 name followed him. " 'Tis a compandious 
 compliment," the old fellow used to say, 
 chuckling. " Ye can't tell th' 'istory o' 
 most men as short as that ; can yo ? " 
 
 He had amassed about thirty thousand 
 pounds, they said, by industry, ingenuity, 
 and talent. Look through the list of pa- 
 tents in this most inventive period, and 
 you will see some twenty patents taken out 
 by Jonathan Gowan. He had done a little 
 usury, he had multiplied his capital by 
 the magic of compound interest as the busy 
 years went on. 
 
 They entered a room comfortably fur- 
 nished, and of a distinctive appearance. 
 Its walls were hung round with mechanical 
 drawings. There was a steam sawmill 
 roughly executed in ink; many details 
 supplied by marks only intelligible to him- 
 self. There were draughts of pumps, and 
 suggestions of many a nameless contrivance
 
 32 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 which showed the speculative turn of the 
 old man. On the chimney piece, where a 
 clock might have stood, was a nondescript 
 machine of wrought iron and brass. A 
 huge padded arm-chair stood at one side of 
 the fire; across the hearth was a large 
 table, on which were preparations for the 
 evening meal. 
 
 Mr. Gowan took his seat in great com- 
 fort, and bade Mr. Brom take another chair. 
 
 "How has Mary been all this time?'' 
 asked Mr. Brom. 
 
 " I dare say, Measter, yo never saw sitch 
 a plan as that afore," said Mr. Gowan, 
 unheeding the trifling question, and point- 
 ing to the nondescript on the chimney- 
 piece: " Theer's a pretty trick." 
 
 "Very pretty; you explained it to me 
 last year. How's Mary?" 
 
 11 Wal, hoo's wal, thank ye ; wot'd ail th' 
 lass, 'cept, may happen, a maggot i' th' 
 head?" Hech! hech! hech! Now I'd 
 venture t' say yo don't mind yer lesson o' 
 last year. Theer's a deal o' thowt went to 
 yon bunch o' weels, Maester."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 33 
 
 " I suppose you'll soon marry her off 
 Gowan, eh? I'm looking out for it." 
 
 " I've nea dawt, I've nea dawt," said the 
 Stoker, a little impatiently. 
 
 " She's a good girl, and she's pretty 
 enough to win a lord, Sir," said Mr. Brom 
 with significance. " If you keep a good 
 look out, she'll make a good family con- 
 nection for you, I tell you." 
 
 " Connaction! wot's in 't? Heraldic cock 
 and dragon on the table spoons ! Loo' thee, 
 mon, awr Mary '11 bring an honest crest o' 
 a cogwheel an chimbly, may happen, on a 
 gowden ground, an' hey ! for connaction," 
 he cried with a loud snap of the fingers. 
 " Where be'est Mary, ?" he shouted, " let's 
 have tay, lass, wilt thou." 
 
 Mary appeared from the adjoining room 
 in answer to the summons. She was a 
 pretty dark-haired girl, with a look of spirit 
 too soft for boldness. She shook hands 
 with Mr. Brom as an old acquaintance, and 
 then silently busied herself in arranging 
 a substantial supper and making tea. There 
 were potted meats, a great collar, candied 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 cucumber, and piles of clap-bread. Mr. 
 Go wan improved ; he pressed Mr. Brom to 
 his good things heartily, and bade Mary- 
 help him to the potted grouse, which she 
 did with liberal hand. 
 
 A tall young man came silently into the 
 room and took a mute place at a far cor- 
 ner of the table, scarcely returning Mr. 
 Brom's salute. There was a strong resem- 
 blance to Go wan, but none of his intelli- 
 gence impressed upon his features. This 
 was a son by the Stokers first marriage ; 
 the old Bluebeard had buried three wives, 
 and had what he called three batches, " the 
 fust a gaumless chap, as'd botch a oss- 
 shoe an 7 polish off a roun' o' beef ; the 
 succond, a good lass enoo, and for the 
 last," he said with a wink, u th' brats be 
 at schoo', an ull stay theer." 
 
 After some moments silent ravage among 
 his good things Mr. Gowan wiped his 
 lips. 
 
 " Th' mangled ingineer, said yo?" smiled 
 he, reverting to a bygone remark, as if the 
 conversation had been unbroken. " Wot if
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 35 
 
 I run an ingine beawt firemon or ingineer 
 at aw?" 
 
 " I should recommend you in that case 
 to dispense with your passengers too," said 
 Mr. Brom. 
 
 " Now, look at un, 'e's reetly poozled," 
 laughed Mr. Go wan, pointing towards his 
 guest. " Wat if I do as they do at sea 
 wi' th' lazy sailors, mak' her roon at the 
 rope's end ; hech, hech, hech, haw, haw, 
 haw ! See un now, how 'e gapes," roared 
 Gowan, "I'm in earnest, mon. Hearken 
 yo," he said, beckoning with his fore- 
 finger when he had enjoyed his lusty 
 joke to the full, "I'm a lit'ral mon, 
 and d — n me if I dont mak my words 
 good t'ye to-night. I'll show you ma 
 scheme now when yo've picked your bone. 
 I'll show ye what 11 put Geordie's nose 
 out o' jeint an' his locomotive too, I sus- 
 pect. Coom, I see ye cant bide still till ye 
 lay eyes on't." 
 
 Gowan rose and led his guest down a few 
 steps, and through a long passage, stalking 
 heavily before him with a candle in his 
 
 3> 2
 
 36 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 hand. Mr. Brom was thus ushered into a 
 long narrow workshop, filled with all the 
 apparatus of a smithy. There was the 
 furnace, on which lay iron rods and plates 
 in various contortions ; the great bellows 
 lay asleep beside it : the monster hammers 
 stood upon their joulter heads ; iron filings 
 crunched under their feet ; vices, cogged 
 wheels, powerful fixed augers, and other 
 compellers of stubborn metal filled one 
 recess of the room like a torture closet. 
 This was Mr. Go wan' s laboratory ; and 
 amid it he stood out in saturnine bulk with 
 a fist outstretched. 
 
 Along one wall of the laboratory ran a 
 line of smooth tramway ; a little stationary 
 engine was placed at either end, beautifully 
 constructed and set in tiny masonry ; upon 
 the rails between stood a model carriage ; 
 from either engine proceeded a rope which 
 was attached to the carriage fore and aft. 
 
 Mr. Brom recognised in it at once a 
 model which had been rejected on the 
 Stockport and Darlington line, and he 
 waited to see what tone the Stoker would
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 37 
 
 adopt in speaking of it. He had small 
 idea of the strength and prejudice of pa- 
 ternal affection. 
 
 " Wot d' yo think o' her ?" 
 
 " Ingenious," said Mr. Brom. 
 
 " Theer shall be a tractile station at 
 every seven mile atwix Manchester and 
 Liverpool," said he, in the monotonous 
 voice of a showman. u The cable o' patent 
 constructions shall coil an' uncoil on axles, 
 drawing or retarding as yo see fit ; an' 
 I've no dawbt we attain the incredible 
 spid o' ten mile an hour." 
 
 u But, dont you think, Mr. Gowan, that 
 your contrivance, which is very admirable, 
 no doubt, — when compared to the locomo- 
 tive Stephenson projects, is a little cum- 
 brous?" 
 
 " Coombrous ! coombrous ! coombrous ! 
 It is simplicity itsel an' nowt else ; sim- 
 plicity an' safety an' spid combined. Ain't 
 a right line o' rope-end simplicity ? Ain't 
 a carriage as broad as long, and runnin' on 
 four-inch rail, safety ? An ain't ten mile 
 
 AN HOUR SPID?" 
 
 D 3
 
 38 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 "At all events/' said Mr. Brom, willing 
 to appease him, " you'll be enabled to em- 
 ploy the smooth rail." 
 
 " What can't we employ ? Can't we 'ave 
 all th' latest improvements in the stim- 
 ingine as re'lized by mysel — my stim-tight 
 biler — my patent feedin' pump — my own 
 patent gauge — my own patent condenser 
 all applicable to stationary works — my own 
 patent safety valves an' adamant fire- 
 bridge, not to speak o' ma own key and 
 chair not yet patented ; wot can't we em- 
 ploy?" he repeated boldly. 
 
 " But, if I don't mistake, Mr. Gowan, 
 this model of yours has been rejected by 
 the committee." 
 
 Mr. Gowan was not in the slightest de- 
 gree disconcerted. 
 
 "Know yo' how that 'appened, measter?" 
 
 "How was it?" 
 
 " Jalousy, ignorance, and interest. D — n 
 the blockheads ! it was rejected because I 
 would'nt go a runnin' abawt like Geordie 
 Stephenson ; a runnin' here and a pryin' 
 there, an' treatin' th' colliers to mugs o'
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 39 
 
 beer if a poor man had a bit o' a sicret 
 as could be coaxed fro him. Yo'd think 
 he was a pollin' th' colliers. But I troost to 
 nobbut one head, measter, the workshop 
 in theer." He laid his hand on his low 
 broad forehead and winked. " An' I troost 
 to nobbut one shouder to push my way; 
 an that's this here, batterin' ram!" he 
 nodded defiantly. 
 
 " Stephenson is an able man," said Mr. 
 Brom, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Geordie has a trick or two, there's no 
 deny in' that. Th' mon has sense, an' ull 
 do much, no dawt, under deraction. He's 
 a gude mon is Geordie ; a reet gradely 
 mon, but he's no pride, ye understand." 
 
 " Will his locomotive succeed, Mr. 
 Gowan? I've great hopes of it." 
 
 u Why, his loc'mottiv is th' best yo have, 
 no dawt, if we 'cept one as shall be name- 
 less just at present. It 'ill save oss-power, 
 and suit wal enough for coal disthricts, 
 wheer it ull run sure an' safe at four mile 
 an hour ; but 'twill kip oo't sight th' ugly 
 laggard wi' her mucky breath — hoo'll 
 
 D 4
 
 40 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 never carry living freight, nobbut the sooty 
 colliers. " 
 
 " I've seen your tractile method succeed 
 admirably with a load of limestone," ban- 
 tered Mr. Brom ; a but the colliers never 
 ventured a ride." 
 
 a I suspact yos' tuk too much o' my 
 vinager wi' yer salad, measter," growled the 
 Stoker with a glower. 
 
 Mr. Brom laughed away the offence. 
 
 " You think, then, Mr. Gowan, that your 
 scheme is the only one that's feasible for a 
 passenger train between Liverpool and 
 Manchester?" 
 
 " I'll tell yo wot / know, — not wot I 
 think, mon," his voice fell into a mysterious 
 whisper; " in yon room there's a filly o' 
 mine wi' an iron belly — hool do." 
 
 " You are employed upon a new engine, 
 then? 
 
 a Hoo'll do." 
 
 There ensued a long grim silence, during 
 which the old man stared Mr. Brom down. 
 
 " I'm awf a moind t!gie yo a peep," he 
 drawled. " Coome, wot '11 yo gie me?"
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 41 
 
 Mr. Brom expressed his curiosity, and 
 Mr. Gowan laid hold on his arm and led 
 him through a door into a shedded forge, 
 and drew him up before an engine of some 
 kind but half completed — an iron skeleton. 
 
 " Theer !" he exclaimed sublimely ; " theer 
 is the proablem solved. Theer's wot they're 
 all drivin' after but canno hit — theer's wot 
 the warld d'mands !" 
 
 Mr. Brom examined here and bent there 
 as one who would feign appreciation, but 
 could not venture a remark, and Gowan 
 proceeded to explain in detail the nature 
 and action of his works, which doubtless 
 showed very great ingenuity and mechanical 
 talent — his mystery, his self-laudation, and 
 his intolerant conceit showing itself at every 
 step of his explanation. 
 
 " Your wheel is of peculiar construction," 
 said Mr. Brom. 
 
 " Theer agin I beat Geordie. My friend 
 Trevethick's loc'mottiv ; for loo' thee, Geor- 
 die's merrow is picked fro Trevethick's bones ; 
 — his loc'mottiv, nor any loc'mottiv, canno 
 draw any greet weight on smooth rail —
 
 42 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Woy can't it?" He seized a bar of iron, 
 and laying it against the circumference of 
 a hand wheel began whirring the latter 
 rapidly round. " Woy can't it draw, 
 measter?" 
 
 He fixed on Mr. Brom one of his long 
 interrogatory stares, which made that gen- 
 tleman feel a little awkward, as he had not 
 been attending. 
 
 " Can't bite, see yo — no more nor yer 
 shod 'eel 'ud pull me ower a frozen fen. I 
 set mysel' to work to overcome th' difficulty 
 — W? by cogging the weels two inches up 
 th' felloe with two levels o' rail to corre- 
 spond ! Naw we can clomb a gradient o' 
 three in fifty as easy as a bluebottle 'ull 
 clomb the wa'. That's my filly, measter, and 
 that's how hoo's shod." 
 
 Mr. Brom highly lauded the contrivance 
 and its novelty, but apprehended it would 
 interfere with speed. 
 
 14 George Stephenson promised the par- 
 liamentary committee a rate of twelve or 
 fourteen miles an hour." 
 
 "I know he did, poor fellow !" rejoined the
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 43 
 
 Stoker, with an air of immense pity ; " when 
 a poor mon is bullied, measter, his dander 
 geets up, and it sets the tongue agog. 
 Geordie's stimm was up to 'igh pressure, 
 see yo — hech! hech! hech! When a 
 chap is worried like a badger it plisses his 
 wounded sperrit to gie a rantin answer! 
 but bless your life, he's no more b'lief in't 
 nor you or I. He's no fule, anyhow — 
 fourteen mile? Eh, sirs! we must yok' 
 in th' wild goose for that — fourteen mile ! 
 Wow ! that's as I hear th' preceese rate we're 
 a goin' to th' deyvil — haw! haw! haw! — 
 hech ! hech ! Coome — yo've sin her, 
 measter — yo've sin her; say now't to no-' 
 boddy. Hoo'll tell her own sicrit w'en th' 
 day arrive." 
 
 Mr. Brom bade him good night, after 
 some expressions of congratulation, and 
 promised to look in again. 
 
 w Mary ull miss her good-bye. Yo moost 
 gie her a word i' th' ear, measter. In my 
 young days I would allays gie a lass a 
 hearty smack afore I left her ; but folks are 
 as tame as sick canaries now a-days. Hech !
 
 44 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 hech, hech ! " Go wan led him back to the 
 parlour, but Mary was gone. 
 
 " Bide there a minute, till I fetch her to 
 ye. These women are slippery uns; yo 
 mun grip 'em, or lose 'em. Bide a minute." 
 
 He tramped upstairs, and could be heard 
 shaking at a door, and addressing his 
 daughter in a rough, peremptory tone, 
 which gave a sinister explanation of what 
 he meant by a grip. There was no reply, 
 and presently the old gentleman came 
 tramping down again. 
 
 "D — n the naughty wench," he muttered ; 
 u she's abed." 
 
 As Mr. Brom was riding slowly down 
 the road, he heard a bass voice croaking 
 softly in the trees by the pathway; and, 
 peering through the shade, perceived two 
 figures sauntering along. He was passing 
 on, when they stopped, and one of them, a 
 woman, came forward. He was rather 
 amazed to find it was the Stoker's daughter. 
 
 " Is that Mr. Brom?" 
 
 "Why, Mary, my dear girl, I thought 
 you were out of your first sleep."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 45 
 
 "Father is so cross," she said hastily; 
 " I'm obliged to manage him, or I could 
 speak to no one. This is my cousin, Cap- 
 tain Frompton. You used to know him. 
 Here, Tom, come, speak to Mr. Brom." 
 
 The man came forward, and Mr. Brom 
 shook hands with him civilly, perfectly 
 comprehending the state of the case. 
 
 u You have my best wishes," said he. 
 " Mary told me all about it when I was last 
 at home; but," said he, addressing himself 
 to both, " let me strongly recommend you, 
 as a friend, to take the Governor into 
 council; it will be better for you in the 
 end." 
 
 " Hush, hush!" she whispered, as if the 
 stern old Governor were in the bushes be- 
 hind; "we could not, we dare not. He 
 would not listen to us, and hates Tom; 
 they could never agree. Mr. Brom, you 
 must not tell him." 
 
 Mr. Brom laughed, and promised not 
 to interfere. " I'm sorry I'm in the secret, 
 Moll, for I don't think you're right; but, 
 as I said before, if my friend Tom is sure
 
 46 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 lie can make you happy, that's my only 
 care." With these words, he bade them a 
 kind good night, and rode thoughtfully on. 
 
 Mary Gowan was his first love when he 
 was a lad, and she little more than a child. 
 He used to ride off in the long summer 
 days no one knew whither, save himself 
 and his horse, to play Romeo with her 
 under those self-same trees. Nothing, save 
 pleasant memories and a kindliness now 
 remained to him. 
 
 How indifferently had he looked upon 
 his humble rival now ! How naturally the 
 soft whisper to which his heart used to 
 beat trickled into other coarser ears ! How 
 had all the timid fervours of love relit for 
 another, as if they had never been conse- 
 crated to him ! 
 
 These two had put their first loves over 
 them like the chicken-pock. I marvel the 
 poets make such ado of love. Their en- 
 thusiasm has a touch of the burlesque-sub- 
 lime to me.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 47 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 A FRIEND IN BAD WEATHER. 
 
 Mr. Brom had a great friend in Lower 
 Weston, the friend of his schooltimes, with 
 whom he had kept up a correspondence 
 which would more than once have dropped 
 had he been punctilious as to his epistolary- 
 dues. Now Mr. Brom had a dislike to this 
 frivolous literary evaporation which clever 
 folk so delight in, therefore the efforts he 
 made to preserve this correspondence proved 
 his regard. 
 
 An opportunity of more substantial proof 
 was awaiting Mr. Brom's return, and he 
 took it with zeal. He found his friend in 
 very great emergency, and his present 
 means of livelihood imperilled; others, de- 
 serving also of sympathy, were likely to go
 
 48 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 adrift with him, but into this part of the 
 subject Mr. Brom did not enter. 
 
 The medical practitioner of Lower 
 Weston, as appointed by the guardians, was 
 an old Dr. Tern, now out of his mind, and 
 confined in an upper apartment — poor wit- 
 less lumber. Before he was reduced to 
 this state, however, he had invited the as- 
 sistance of his nephew, young Surgeon 
 Heath, who from henceforth resided in the 
 house with him, and practised with fair 
 popularity, so that when the old Doctor was 
 afflicted under circumstances which excited 
 great pity for his family, Surgeon Heath 
 was allowed to remain as deputy, making 
 what he could by honorary practice, and 
 giving over the salary of sixty pounds a year 
 to the immediate support of the Terns. 
 
 This anomalous state of things continued 
 undisturbed for three or four years, like a 
 gauntlet thrown down, which none cared 
 to take up, — like a sin against law without 
 a prosecutor. It was such a quiet neigh- 
 bourhood, so little stir or competition until 
 Dr. Sloperton came there, who sent his
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 49 
 
 broken-winded pony to young Master Par- 
 tridge on recovering from the measles, who 
 took care of the young Athertons all the 
 way home from York, who used to take 
 the plump little Clays on his knee, pinching 
 their little cheeks, and pursuing their 
 button noses as he gossiped with their 
 mamma, with such smiles, and pursings, 
 and head shakings, as impart an emollient 
 wisdom to our doctors' physiognomies. In 
 fact, he used to insinuate himself into the 
 shabby corners of the ladies' hearts, those 
 otherwise noble tenements, and represent 
 the merciful arrangement above set forth 
 as a monstrous abuse. So he got up a 
 little outcry at last, and, somehow, people 
 began to feel that Doctor Sloperton was 
 suffering under positive injustice in that he 
 was not the salaried practitioner instead of 
 Surgeon Heath. 'Twas all very well whilst 
 there was a chance of the old Doctor's re- 
 covery and resumption of duty; but now 
 three or four years had elapsed, and there 
 must be some limit, or what institution 
 could hold together ? Why, madam, at that 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 rate, we should have the constitution of 
 England breaking up ! What lady could 
 stand such a rhetorical period as that ? The 
 ladies were all prejudiced, and, unfortu- 
 nately, gentlemen catch their prejudices 
 from the ladies in the end. There was a 
 strong set against Surgeon Heath, and the 
 Board of Guardians began to arouse them- 
 selves. 
 
 Now Mr. Brom, before he was two days 
 at home, set himself with a will to stem 
 this tide and support his friend. No poll- 
 ing agent could bring more zealous perse- 
 verance to the cause. It is not a pleasant 
 thing asking favours. Especially, is it un- 
 pleasant asking for a friend, unless, indeed, 
 your request is made with that lifelessness 
 which as much as says, u Now, Sir, I'm just 
 doing a duty by a worthy poor fellow, who 
 expects this effort from me; feel no awk- 
 wardness whatsoever in a refusal, you dont 
 refuse me" But to ask with the genuine 
 importunity which makes the grant to your 
 friend a personal obligation to yourself, 
 this proves the man.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 51 
 
 Mr. Brom from the moment he had esta- 
 blished himself at home, exerted his sleep- 
 less influence, such as he possessed, both by 
 ktter and personal appeal. He pleaded 
 the pitiful state of the old Doctor, the help- 
 lessness of the motherless child; but this 
 was mere red-tape pathos. He urged the 
 length of time which they had allowed to 
 elapse without interference, and how zeal- 
 ous an officer was Surgeon Heath ; his 
 judicious treatment of this case and that; 
 his goodness, honesty, and talent — these 
 were the heads of Mr. Brom's vehement 
 appeal against the Board of Guardians' 
 wives. All this was without a word of 
 parade to his friend. 
 
 One of the most influential ladies in the 
 whole neighbourhood was Mr. Brom's 
 wealthy relative, who was intimate with 
 Mr. Crone and Mr. Acres — guardians both. 
 Her hospitality, which was considerable, 
 though it did not save her from sarcasm 
 and ridicule at the hands of the ladies, 
 gave her some influence which was likely 
 to have weight in the disposal of such a 
 
 E 2 

 
 52 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 trifling appointment. Turbot and claret 
 are such capital logic. Her ladyship used 
 to invalid from time to time, and was quali- 
 fied to form an opinion of a medical gentle- 
 man. Sure it was, that these gentlemen 
 would do all in their power to oblige her. 
 This old lady, however, was not altogether 
 approachable to our advocate, for — (we 
 are loth to confess it, and would fain slur it 
 over) upon her whim, rested the most sub- 
 stantial realisation of Mr. Brom's plans, 
 which were too princely for his present 
 income. A last will and testament is such 
 a pitiful fulcrum to rest the lever upon, and 
 comes with such bathos — but so Fortune 
 loves to mock us. 
 
 Her ladyship had a prejudice against Dr. 
 Tern's family, derived from the old Doctor's 
 bad repute. Though Surgeon Heath re- 
 sided at a most convenient distance for a 
 call, yet she had never received a prescrip- 
 tion from him or made his acquaintance. 
 Dr. Sloperton used to see her now and 
 then, and sent a bottle about once a month 
 or so ; but Surgeon Heath was entirely
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 53 
 
 ignored. Mr. Brom resolved to remove 
 this prejudice and gain what he playfully 
 called " a perpetual cure " of the old lady 
 for his friend. Great credit be to him 
 for pushing the defence of a friend into 
 such dangerous quarters ! 
 
 There was a wise woman in the house 
 whose advice was of weight, whose shrewd 
 whispers availed more in the long run than 
 an orator's outcry. He talked over his 
 friend's position with his mother, and asked 
 her advice whether he should speak to Lady 
 Bunbury. " A claret dinner to these fel- 
 lows," said he, " would decide the ques- 
 tion." 
 
 Mrs. Brom was unequivocally against 
 this course, but, seeing he was bent upon 
 it, gave it a quiet consideration. " It was 
 always unwise," she said, " mixing thus 
 forwardly in another person's affairs; it 
 was generally thankless, sometimes caused 
 misunderstanding instead of gratitude," — 
 which is a melancholy truth, we must all 
 acknowledge ; " well, since he would do it, it 
 might be well to interest her sister in little 
 
 E 3
 
 54 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Ellen Tern; but was he aware there was 
 an ample subscription getting up ? The old 
 man was to be lodged with his servant in 
 Manchester at the expense of his relatives 
 and the gentry of the country, and his little 
 daughter was to be boarded with an aunt, 
 who was to receive so much a year to 
 enable her to keep the child." 
 
 "lam only interested in poor Heath," 
 said Mr. Brom ; " now that he is losing the 
 place, I hear the old man's creditors are 
 coming upon the effects, and he'll be likely 
 to lose all his chattels — what can be done? 
 If we can keep him in, it will be for their 
 interest to let him alone. You were never 
 at a loss before, mother." 
 
 " Suppose we get little Miss Tern over 
 with her music," she replied, " it will be 
 a great treat to your aunt, and James 
 Heath might bring her. But have you 
 considered that possibly he is anxious to 
 get away out of this, love? He has youth 
 and talent, and is really chained down by 
 the responsibility that rests on him alone." 
 
 Mr. Brom paid attention to the sugges-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 55 
 
 tion, but the running burden of dissuasion 
 was unheeded. He wrote to his friend to 
 be sure to be over at eleven o'clock next 
 day, and bring his little cousin with him. 
 Mr. Brom would be greatly obliged, as he 
 was anxious his aunt should hear the young 
 lady play. Heath replied by the messenger 
 that he and " the young one " would be 
 over. 
 
 "Now," laughed Mr. Brom, "we'll try 
 the effect of this little David's harping 
 upon old Saul." 
 
 The house in which Mr. Brom lived was 
 divided into two compartments, and had 
 once, in fact, been two distinct dwellings. 
 The two sisters lived in it ; her ladyship, the 
 elder by many years, occupying the statelier 
 half. These establishments were kept quite 
 distinct, as were all their sympathies, and 
 yet they lived at peace. The secret of that 
 concord rested with Mrs. Brom, and its 
 principle is worth gold and jewels. 
 
 Lady Bunbury was wealthy, with a strong 
 vein of whim and mischief, and an insinuat- 
 
 E 4
 
 56 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 ing tyranny hard to cope with. Mrs. Brom 
 coped with her, and conquered her. 
 
 Sallow and seemingly broken was Mrs. 
 Brom ; but liers was one of those constitu- 
 tions Death loves to spare whilst he bowls 
 down the heartiest. She ate little, took no 
 exercise, and had that wan hue invalids 
 acquire from living in twilight. Her voice 
 was like virginals, and her mind in active 
 health ; she had full kind lips, and eyes of 
 red hazel — a pair of sleepy garnets. 
 
 She had lived with her sister for twenty 
 years on formal good terms, and this was 
 marvellous ; had she been a shadow more 
 proud or a trifle more feverish, long ago 
 had the waggons been at the door for her 
 effects, but not only has she held her own 
 for that period, but has had to a certain 
 extent her own way. Her secret is not 
 unknown to ladies, so we shall announce it 
 without mystery as the principle of the 
 patent safety buffer ! She gave way to the 
 rush, but gained her end by a patient 
 elasticity. 
 
 Her husband, the Professor, had been
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 57 
 
 an irritable man, loud, harsh, vindictive ; a 
 Caligula in the domestic empire ; that is he 
 up there, in black profile, with the heavy 
 brow and hatchet nose ; by that nose did 
 she lead him lovingly. He abhorred com- 
 pany, yet he frequently entertained — and 
 why? Mrs. Brom willed it so. He had im- 
 periously decreed his first son should be 
 called William, but he was christened John. 
 Mrs. Brom again, you see. But she never 
 raised her voice, never shook her finger, 
 never gave a pettish answer. She only 
 employed the principle of the patent safety 
 buffer. 
 
 It is a sweet art, the most delicate product 
 of high civilisation. Henpecking is to be 
 respected, but is mere savagery to this. 
 
 Learn it, pretty miss, though you for- 
 swear your pencil and forget your piano; 
 the calm deflections of the good ship, with 
 your little hand upon the helm, will be 
 a sweeter triumph than the poor craft 
 blustered from its course by the vixen 
 wind. 
 
 Do you ask how she managed ? she
 
 58 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 who was incapable of strong measures 
 and knew not a coup de main. I cannot 
 fully satisfy you. Little soothing words 
 dropped in season, gentle inferential argu- 
 ments, implicit obedience whilst the obsti- 
 nate fit was on, and taking her indemnity 
 in the repentant fit which followed, — the 
 gentle elasticity always tending back again. 
 But this history can teach you about as 
 much of her art as those tempting little 
 works " How to woo a lady " can instruct 
 forlorn gentlemen where to wound the 
 female heart cased cap-a-pie." 
 
 When last year it came to Lady Bunbury's 
 ear that Mr. Brom was intent upon building 
 ambitiously upon her land, the old lady sar- 
 castically challenged him to do it ; she met 
 the idea with bitter ridicule and significant 
 threats; and a single relation with sixty 
 thousand pounds can threaten to some pur- 
 pose. Here Mrs. Brom's gentle trick was 
 hitherto employed in vain to win her con- 
 currence, but the gentle pressure was 
 always on. 
 
 Next morning Mr. Brom ran up to pay
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 59 
 
 his aunt a visit, and having knocked lightly- 
 entered, on invitation, with diplomatic ur- 
 banity. 
 
 The room, in which he was received, was 
 large and pleasant ; the windows were 
 thrown up, and the placid twilight of the 
 blind entered abundantly over the jessa- 
 mines. Quiet stately taste ruled, and gentle 
 perfumes dozed around. 
 
 He was kindly greeted by an old lady ; 
 she was of comely age, and amply filled her 
 mauve silk dress ; soft streams of lace fell 
 over her bosom and handsome white hands. 
 Her voice was like her sister's, clear and 
 pleasant, but had rounder intonations, and 
 there was a hidden dominion in her shallow 
 blue eye. Her complexion was delicate, 
 yet somewhat scribbled upon by the years, 
 — scribblings, of no great import, either of 
 thought or sorrow. 
 
 She rose to receive him, and made him 
 sit opposite her on a duplicate armchair to 
 her own. 
 
 There was a jolt at the first going off, 
 which Mr. Brom gently surmounted. He
 
 60 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 made some formal inquiry about her 
 health. 
 
 " Nothing to you, John ; nothing to 
 you." 
 
 He apologised pleasantly. 
 
 " I'm in very remarkably good health — 
 uncommon good health, thank you." 
 
 " You have not pined at my absence," 
 laughed Mr. Brom. 
 
 Her ladyship recovered her affability. 
 She said she had been so dull, the neigh- 
 bourhood was so lowering. Poor Sir Robin 
 indeed did his best to relieve it with his 
 caps and bells, but the people put her out 
 of all patience. " What are they doing in 
 Town, John?" 
 
 Mr. Brom culled for her bits of town 
 gossip, and gave her sketches of people she 
 had known ; their follies, their scrapes, and 
 their weddings. He had a feeling for droll 
 dialogue and a little harmless caricature. 
 She laughed and enjoyed it all, catching at 
 any touch of scandal with an avidity in 
 manner almost childish ; questioning, cross- 
 examining, snuffing at the taint.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 61 
 
 Oh, you should take a little trip now 
 and then," he continued, cheerfully; " you'd 
 meet many friends in Torquay just now. 
 It must be full." 
 
 " Well, how 's the lottery going on," 
 said the old lady, abruptly, "how's the 
 lottery, John?" 
 
 "The lottery, eh?" 
 
 " How many tickets have you taken in 
 the lottery, come?" 
 
 Mr. Brom looked perplexed. 
 
 " Very well assumed, very ! I'm asking 
 you about the railway lottery." 
 
 " Oh ! — The railway is supported by 
 government, now. I have taken a few 
 shares," said Mr. Brom, quietly ; " the 
 railway is sure to prosper." 
 
 " Ha ! " said Lady Bunbury, with a 
 mocking smile. " Sure to prosper ; and so 
 you are sinking your money in it ! oh, its 
 no business of mine, of course. I'm glad 
 it's not my money that is going, very glad 
 it's not my money." 
 
 u I wish I could persuade you to invest 
 in it," said Mr. Brom, quite gravely.
 
 62 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, thank you very much." 
 
 " And I'm sure you would too, if you 
 investigated the scheme and its pros- 
 pects." 
 
 " Thank you, oh, thank you ; " she re- 
 peated, bowing derisively, " I have better 
 outlets for my money, and shall take care 
 it is well and sensibly appropriated." 
 
 " You are very right, ma'am." 
 
 " Thank you ; there is a noble institution 
 in which I am at present highly interested 
 — the new Foundling Hospital, of which 
 the country has rather more need than 
 great railway lotteries ; or — hem ! — family 
 mansions," said she, with sly venom. 
 " If I had no better channel for my money, 
 the hospital would be a very proper one 
 for support. What d'ye think ? " 
 
 " Any disposal of your money that 
 pleases you, is doubtless very proper." 
 
 " Just so. You have your railway, and 
 I have my hospital ; we have each a right 
 to our hobbies, have we not?" 
 
 " I'd planned a little treat for you to-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 63 
 
 day," said Mr. Brom, turning from such 
 a delicate subject. 
 
 He told her he had asked over poor 
 Tern's little daughter, who played so nicely 
 for a child. He understood her ladyship 
 had never heard her. She has great feel- 
 ing, I hear, and a rapid little hand." 
 
 " A pretty little hand, I've no doubt too," 
 murmured her ladyship, gazing compla- 
 cently at her own. 
 
 "Marble!" ejaculated Mr. Brom, rivet- 
 ing a playful gaze upon the same. 
 
 " Does she play very old music? " asked 
 Lady Bunbury, smiling. 
 
 " Chiefly. I am sure she has no means of 
 getting novelties. I have some of Mozart's 
 pieces by me, which I'll bring down. You 
 remember this air ?" said he, and he 
 hummed a bar. 
 
 She took it up softly in a wrecked so- 
 prano. " The second part goes so," said 
 she, proceeding with spirit. 
 
 " I hear their knock," he said, as he 
 paused. " By the way, Surgeon Heath 
 brin gs her over."
 
 64 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Oh ! " said her ladyship, chilling. 
 
 " If you wish it he can remain below.' 7 
 
 " Oh, no. The surgeon comes as show- 
 man, does he?" said Lady Bunbury. " Well 
 I'm sure I can't object, and ought to be 
 gratified. Let them come up, John, but — 
 get them away as soon as you can." 
 
 Mr. Brom went down to his mother's 
 drawing-room, into which the visitors had 
 been shown, and he brought them both 
 up with him, and introduced them to Lad}^ 
 Bunbury. Surgeon Heath, a robust young 
 man, with a solid brow, as white as milk, 
 a firm mouth, and soft handsome eyes ; 
 his companion a pretty child of about 
 twelve, who had a queer shy frown — a 
 little repulsive, perhaps. 
 
 The introduction was very stiff indeed ; 
 her ladyship sat like a duchess, and her 
 visitors looked gauche enough. Mr. Brom 
 drew out the music stool, set books upon 
 it, and opened the piano. Surgeon Heath 
 led the little girl to her seat, and she 
 began to play ; both her supple hands ran
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. G5 
 
 off into some little fantasia, light, and 
 bright, and fleeting. 
 
 It was irresistible ; Lady Banbury smiled 
 delightedly at Mr. Brom, and delightedly 
 at Surgeon Heath, who responded, and 
 she kept gently beating time with her 
 hands. 
 
 The young lady was evidently well 
 taught, and there was an amusing con- 
 trast between her gaucherie, when she ceased 
 playing, and the display of all the little 
 taught graces when she began; — liftings 
 of the wrist, and small swoops down again, 
 and gentle swaying of the figure. 
 
 When the performance was over, her 
 ladyship had the young musician over to 
 kiss the little indented brow ; she spoke 
 to her and complimented her, saying she 
 was charmed, but the blood mounted in 
 the child's face, and her answers were 
 scarcely audible. 
 
 u How she forgot herself at the piano ! " 
 whispered her ladyship, to Mr. Brom. 
 
 She was gracious to Surgeon Heath, 
 bade him come over from the distant 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 chair on which he had secluded himself, 
 and she rang for refreshments. She would 
 have conversed with him on music, but 
 he confessed his total ignorance of it. 
 She spoke of books, and here he seemed 
 at home ; but he had not the graceful 
 knack of Mr. Brom, who neatly folded 
 up his opinion before presenting it. Yet 
 he pleased my lady. 
 
 a Now, Surgeon Heath," she asked, 
 "what's your opinion of this railway 
 bubble that's setting us all wild?" 
 
 " That's what we lawyers call a leading 
 question," put in Mr. Brom. 
 
 " No matter, no matter," said her lady- 
 ship, " Surgeon Heath has sense." 
 
 Heath was of opinion that at least the 
 prospect was very doubtful, that he had 
 himself little faith in its ultimate success. 
 She began nodding and smiling at every 
 word. 
 
 " Now," said she with a cock in her brow, 
 " would you sink your good money and 
 your livelihood in this grand conspiracy to 
 break our bones ? "
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 67 
 
 " I should be very sorry to risk a shilling 
 on it, but I'm not a fair instance, perhaps," 
 said Heath, and she still smiled and nodded 
 at every word. 
 
 " I knew you thought so, and so every 
 one in their senses must think." 
 
 " I dare say John here knows more about 
 it than I," said Heath, turning to Mr. 
 Brora. 
 
 " Oh pray don't refer me to him, pray 
 don't," said she. "I'm quite grateful to 
 you for your sensible opinion." 
 
 When Surgeon Heath and his young 
 companion were going, she bade the former 
 a very kind adieu, and reiterated how 
 charmed she had been. " I'm quite in- 
 terested in that little creature, John," said 
 she, "and a very nice-looking person is 
 Surgeon Heath indeed." 
 
 " And now," said Mr. Brom, striking 
 whilst the iron was hot, " I've to ask your 
 support for a most deserving person." 
 
 " Meaning yourself, I suppose," said her 
 ladyship. 
 
 He represented to her, very feelingly, 
 
 T 2
 
 68 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 what a pity it would be that this little home 
 should be broken up, and a poor senseless 
 invalid and his daughter be turned adrift. 
 
 "Not forgetting the pity that this fine 
 sensible young man should lose his prac- 
 tice? Certainty John, but what can I 
 do?" 
 
 He explained to her how she might in- 
 fluence Mr. A., and Mr. B., and Mr. C, 
 who had been so often and handsomely en- 
 tertained by her, and showed the favour to 
 be quite a slight one, consisting only in a 
 sufferance of the present state of things, 
 which had now existed so long and worked 
 so well. Her ladyship promised to do her 
 best.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. (i9 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 GRAUWACKE LODGE. 
 
 Grauwacke Lodge was a desolate little 
 place, close to the Irvvell, and overlooking 
 a dead moss. The house walls had caught 
 a dismal green leprosy from the rain of 
 many years ; two great elms stood at either 
 end like champions vowing it defence ; 
 the green drip from their branches had 
 fallen in fantastic outlines on the plaster- 
 shipwrecks, battles, and old-world forests 
 limned in livid green. One restless bough 
 had elbowed off the weather-slating by its 
 tumbles in the wind. 
 
 Osier gardens were to one side, hoary in 
 the breeze, and the river Irwell below, pass- 
 ing on in brown calms, or thorning into 
 a thousand blue crescents. On its bank 
 
 F 3
 
 70 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 lay the ribs of a boat in ribbons of weed, 
 like a mouldering camel. 
 
 Hear the bugle! long-drawn notes, sad- 
 grotesque ; it is a merry English air played 
 like a dead march. Old Tern dens it up- 
 stairs ; a strict home character, once the 
 lustiest, merriest good fellow, deep drinker, 
 loud laugher, reveller o' nights. He is harm- 
 less now; sometimes a little mischievous, 
 and with sense enough to feel the tedium 
 of the blank meaningless days. An old 
 servant attends him, and he sits in an 
 upper room playing the Kent bugle, puling 
 forth complaints, sometimes making hideous 
 grimaces from the window at the elms. 
 
 He was quite harmless ; but sometimes 
 at still night he used to escape from his 
 attendant, and come stealing down to roar 
 through the keyhole of uneasy sleepers, so 
 the doors were kept locked ; were you sleep- 
 ing in the house, and bold enough to peep 
 forth at that unblest hour, with lighted 
 candle, you'd have beheld an old giant, 
 hideous in his night smock, his nose burn- 
 ing blue.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 71 
 
 A timid uncomplaining woman wasted 
 out her life here, striving with desolation, 
 and died a year ago. Poor Mrs. Tern, the 
 doctor's wife, knew nobody ; too respect- 
 able to consort with the tradespeople, and 
 unnoticed by the gentry, she was as much 
 a stranger when she was driven forth in a 
 cheap hearse as when she entered the place 
 a shy decaying woman. 
 
 She was a reserved person, of a very 
 cold exterior. Her mind was of that .class 
 which suffers silently, and with which im- 
 patience or anger has no vent, but corrodes. 
 Self-discipline is a good principle, but for 
 my own part I think it natural and whole- 
 some that a poor woman should scold a 
 little when she is wronged. It acts like an 
 issue on the ill-humours ; which, if too 
 rigidly contained, turn to poison. Care's 
 cancer preys on some vital if it be not 
 drawn to the surface ; you can see the hair 
 grow grey and the cheek wasting, and the 
 cypherings of sorrow stealing over the 
 brow ; these are the only signs. She left 
 one child. 
 
 F 4
 
 72 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 I have thus called up the character of 
 one dead and gone, because there was a 
 certain radical resemblance to be traced 
 between the mother and daughter. It will 
 serve as a clue if remembered. 
 
 An intractable and shy child was this 
 poor woman's only companion. Mrs. Tern 
 devoted herself to her daughter's education 
 as far as her capabilities went, which were 
 by no means extensive. This was her only 
 employment, and saved her mind from stag- 
 nation. She had grown very slovenly be- 
 fore her death, and was scarcely ever seen 
 out of the house. She was a Protestant 
 by birth, but never appeared at a place of 
 worship, and the visits of the clergyman 
 were but coldly received. So she lived out 
 her days, cold, impassive, and decaying. 
 
 She used to tend the Doctor in his fre- 
 quent incapable fits, and always waited up 
 for him till he came home. She, a shiver- 
 ing apparition ; he, a fine, jolly, red man. 
 The nightman at the neighbouring mills, 
 and belated farmers, and fishermen in their 
 boats, said that her candle was always
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 73 
 
 alight, and they used to call it the " Doctor's 
 Beacon." But this was poor Mrs. Tern 
 waiting wearily for her ramping mate. 
 
 One night, about eleven o'clock, the 
 Doctor staggered in ; he was earlier than 
 usual, and he came unexpected. He was 
 excited strangely ; generally he was as 
 stolid as an ox — excited strangely, and his 
 eyes unnaturally bright. She got him to bed 
 with difficulty, for he wanted to play a game 
 of vingt-un with her, though there was not a 
 card in the house. When he was asleep, 
 with a mother's instinct she slipt the sleep- 
 ing child from the bed, and wrapping its 
 form and her own in his great caped coat, 
 slept in the arm-chair by the bed. 
 
 At midnight, she was startled by a cry 
 from her husband; she found him sitting 
 up in the bed, trumpeting forth strange 
 incoherent ribaldries. From that night, for 
 two years, he was a slobbering idiot, and 
 became a strict home character. A gleam 
 of intelligence returned, but his wife never 
 lived to see the improvement. Still Dr. 
 Tern lives strictly at home.
 
 74 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 James Heath had been in practice in this 
 neighbourhood about four years. He oc- 
 cupied two basement apartments ; the larger 
 being his study, in which he took his meals. 
 It contained the pharaphernalia of a small 
 private dispensary and many books; the 
 smaller was his bedroom. In this lone 
 house he had woven many fancies. Well ! 
 we are sick of men's dreams unachieved. 
 What is as much to the purpose, the 
 spiders had woven cobwebs too in every 
 available corner; sometimes you would see 
 a merry little acrobat swinging on four 
 yards of elfish cable from the ceiling to 
 bathe in a sunbeam. 
 
 Heath used to have two visitors which 
 were often an amusement to him, and oc- 
 casionally a trouble. At uncertain hours, 
 a pretty frowning child of about thirteen 
 used to enter; yellow-haired and small, 
 yet fast growing out of her frock ; she was 
 always attended by a large torn cat that 
 looked uncanny. 
 
 This little lady used to tell him scraps 
 of news ; such as who she'd seen pass the
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 75 
 
 gate just now, how they looked up, or, how 
 the villanous carrion crows had discovered 
 her clutch of chickens, and used to sit 
 hankering on the elm-tree ; or, what father 
 was muttering to himself all the morning. 
 u And ain't that curious, Jemmy?" 
 She was fond of rummaging his drawers 
 for liquorice or manna, and would laugh at 
 his appeals not to disarrange his place ; but 
 in a moment she would repent, and set 
 things in order daintily again. Often she 
 would coax him to make her a saline 
 draught, or repeat for her a ballad in his 
 bass recitative. She much preferred the 
 draught, however. She had a favourite 
 book, Goldsmith's " Animated Nature," and 
 used to get him in his leisure moments to 
 make her toucans and orioles out of cork 
 and feathers. 
 
 This was all smooth and pleasant, but 
 sometimes he affronted her by ridicule or 
 an impatient word, and she was most per- 
 sistent in a huff. She might absent her- 
 self for a fortnight and live upstairs with 
 her old nurse, till he used to miss her
 
 76 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 sorely, being solitary himself, and send for 
 her. She would appear in the space of half 
 an hour, perhaps, reserved and frigid, to 
 receive an apology, quite oblivious of the 
 manna or the ballads ; and it used to be 
 great diversion to Heath bringing the young- 
 one gradually round out of her grandeur 
 till she was blythe again. Never was she 
 so pleasant and arch as after one of those 
 long huffs. 
 
 She would often on such occasions of 
 reconciliation have him into tea with her 
 and her old nurse, and send out certain 
 pennies to buy barn-brack. 
 
 The young one was a rock of sense ; 
 silent, thoughtful sense too. She had the 
 small outlay of the house at her command, 
 paid the bills and practised economy. The 
 frocks she used to deny herself; the dandy 
 little boots that used to tempt her in vain 
 when she slipped out with her nurse to 
 shop ; the hard struggles the young one 
 used to have, to forego the neat little 
 lavender kids or the rainbow silk neck- 
 kerchiefs, when the insinuating shopman
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 77 
 
 would say, "Anything more, Miss, to-day?" 
 she never told any one how much it cost 
 her to say " No." 
 
 The young one was by no means of an 
 open or confiding disposition. She was a 
 dark child. What charmed Heath about this 
 young companion and made him not only 
 tolerate her but cultivate her, was, that to 
 all others, save her nurse and the old rector, 
 she was so dark and piteously shy. 
 
 A rock of sense, said we ? She gave big- 
 Surgeon Heath the most sensible piece 
 of advice under the circumstances which he 
 ever received, and not the less sensible 
 because, like our wisest saws, it was hack- 
 neyed. She bade him bring home a rich 
 wife, and make 'em all comfortable off 
 hand. There! That counterbalances her 
 weakness for liquorice, and her propensity 
 to fiddle. 
 
 She was a peculiar protege of Mr. Can- 
 non, the old rector, and was so much with 
 him, and no one else out of her house, that 
 I really believe she caught some of the old 
 man's looks and ways ; she certainly had
 
 78 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 one or two of his phrases, which Heath 
 laughed her out of. 
 
 She was known to begin a sentence with 
 a " whereas," and a very good word it is. 
 
 Though childish enough, a the young 
 one " used to lecture Heath about a certain 
 dereliction — ay, and bribe him too. Heath 
 was a hard-working man, and had little 
 time to spare from an ungenial profession 
 for a dear and very different toil, which he 
 plied in secret. He used to work on Sun- 
 day at these fancy studies, considering that 
 day his own. 
 
 One Sunday morning he was deep in his 
 labour, weaving nets to catch the* stars, 
 which the whole tribe of us authors have 
 done — Heaven help our wits! — when he 
 perceived a heavenly odour near him — 
 under his very nose. Whether in his ab- 
 straction he mistook it, at first, for the fra- 
 grance of his fancies, I will not avouch; 
 but he sat enjoying it for some moments, 
 whilst he wrote on. He looked round 
 by-and-by, and there stood "the young 
 one " beside him, quite sad, and holding to
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 79 
 
 him a beautiful bunch of roses and sweet 
 peas. 
 
 "Put by your work," said the young 
 one, " and I'll give you that." 
 
 He could not withstand the appeal. He 
 put the crooked transcript away, which 
 looked double to his weary eyes, and pre- 
 sently went out with her through the sun- 
 shine to church. She used to talk to him 
 — the young one — of religion, as if Christ 
 and his apostles still walked the earth. 
 
 He was at work again that night, when 
 she was in bed. 
 
 " Give me but independence," said Heath 
 in his mind, " and I will make fame." 
 
 To grow a cedar we must have a hot- 
 house. Who was to give him his hot-house? 
 Breadmaking is so homely, frosty, and 
 hard. 
 
 A poor man who would court Fame must 
 give up all to her — pleasure, rest, peace; 
 and if there is aught more, it must go too. 
 
 Thriving profession and opportunities 
 laid at his feet must be sent adrift. The 
 society of friends, and kindly tourney of
 
 80 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 tongues are not for him. The young love, 
 let him see her no more if he be honourable. 
 He'll not get his government pension till 
 he's fifty. Still sings the unappeased sor- 
 ceress Fame to her lover : 
 
 " Mair meat, mair meat, King Jamie, 
 Mair meat ye maun gie to me ; 
 And I maun hae your bonny brown steed " — 
 
 How can he gain independence — how and 
 where? Not, surely, in this marsh. Now 
 if my Lord were to offer this man a plum 
 of four hundred pounds a year for a modi- 
 fication of his political principles, would it 
 not tempt him? If the devil roams about, 
 inspecting the chinks in our armour, he, 
 surely, might find a weak point here, at 
 which to dart a golden lance. But, alas, 
 he generally conquers us without such cost. 
 " Give me independence, and I will make 
 fame," thought Heath, as he worked the 
 pestle, or vaccinated baby furies. 
 
 Emollient Dr. Sloperton, a neighbouring 
 surgeon, aged fifty, had been getting popu- 
 lar, and putting in claims to the situation,
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 81 
 
 pursing his lip, and decrying the anomalous 
 state of things, by inference. He had rather 
 a good case. If that young man, he might 
 argue, is entitled by his experience and 
 skill to the salary, why, give him the place 
 directly, in heaven's name; but if neither 
 his years nor his talent can qualify him, 
 why, let him give way to an applicant who 
 can show such claims. People began to talk ; 
 the parish began to be conscious of a bur- 
 den, and Heath got a polite letter, signi- 
 fying that, since Dr. Tern's case was 
 hopeless, they felt they could no longer 
 retain him. Yielding to this pressure 
 from without, Heath prepared to depart. 
 
 "How will the young one take it?" 
 thought he. 
 
 He had heard that there was to be a 
 subscription opened for the old doctor and 
 his little girl, and advertisements put in 
 the papers. He knew of one hearty contri- 
 butor at least, who should be nameless. 
 
 On a dismal twilight evening, he was 
 sitting by the window of his room plan- 
 ning, cheerful and bold for the struggle. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 The prospect beneath him, however, was 
 not enlivening — background a blanket 
 of mist. On the right, a little way, was a 
 pool, covered with duck-weed, through 
 which peeped glimpses of a nether sky. 
 The hoary osiers seemed to smoke in the 
 drizzle, and the moss lay dead. 
 
 Just the very hour and light the young 
 one would be restless, and come popping in 
 on him. The door opens softly, and in she 
 comes with her short-sighted frown. 
 
 " It's a desperate lonely day, Jemmy ; 
 ain't it?" 
 
 " Yes; I was looking out for you." 
 
 " I hope all the days won't be like this, 
 when you go, will they?" 
 
 " Summer is coming, my dear. Hurrah ! 
 Cowslips, and lady-cows, and evening ser- 
 vices." 
 
 "Well, well; yes." 
 
 Here came a silence. 
 
 " I hope you'll keep your Sundays, 
 Jemmy." 
 
 "When your eye's off me, dear, eh?" 
 said he, looking pleasantly askance.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 83 
 
 " God's eye will be on you, Jemmy ; 
 won't it?" 
 
 " Tell me, Ellen. I hear you'll have to 
 teach a class in the Sunday-school next 
 year — pupils as big as yourself, eh?" 
 
 " If I'm here, Jemmy, perhaps." 
 
 " What will you do if Aunt Bell comes 
 for her money?" 
 
 " Oh, Jemmy, if she does, you must pro- 
 mise to return; won't you? Oh, pray 
 return," she said, in great distress. 
 
 " Write for me," he laughed. "Write for 
 me, if you're pushed hard ; but threaten her 
 with me first." 
 
 " We'll pay her yet ; won't we, Jemmy?" 
 
 u Won't we?" he repeated, with a flourish 
 and a smile. 
 
 Then she fell to telling him bits of news, 
 which the reader would not comprehend— 
 it is so long ago. 
 
 a 2
 
 84 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. VIL 
 
 THE YOUNG ONE. 
 
 The next morning a burly little gentle- 
 man and a demure tall one — greasy both 
 — knocked at the door and entered, and 
 after presenting a piece of paper to the 
 surgeon were polite enough to commence 
 taking an inventory of the furniture, in- 
 cluding in their attention the surgeon's case 
 of instruments — his books and all his valu- 
 ables. The young one was much puzzled 
 at first, but she was easily satisfied, espe- 
 cially as the burly little functionary was 
 very sweet to her, and offered her some 
 dingy apples, as he jotted down on his 
 paper her pretty little piano, the gift of her 
 kind friend little Sir Robin Peachy, here- 
 after to appear.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 85 
 
 " What is it?" she asked. 
 
 " The Census-man always comes round 
 like that," said the surgeon, vaguely, as he 
 whittled out a wooden wedge for the window- 
 sash, at present kept open by the broken 
 back of a chair. 
 
 As the day drew near for his departure 
 Heath began in his leisure moments to ob- 
 serve how the young one would take it. 
 Her visits became more frequent, and she 
 seemed to enjoy herself like a little fatalist, 
 undemonstrative as usual, but companion- 
 able : she'd just say each day ; 
 
 "Goin' to-day, Jem?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 And she'd be content. At last a letter 
 came to Heath, with a very wiry direction, 
 of which she took minute observation. 
 
 " Jem," she whispered, lest the mice 
 should hear her, "that's from old Aunt 
 Bell." 
 
 Whatever the young one disliked she 
 called" old." 
 
 "It is," he replied, opening it; " she says 
 — she says — " 
 
 G 3
 
 86 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " She says shell be here on Monday 
 next." 
 
 " Oh dear! oh dear!" said the young one. 
 
 From this moment she drooped. She sat 
 for half an hour after staring dead at a great 
 jar of camphor, as if she would decipher 
 its Latin hieroglyphics ; then away she 
 slunk with a long face. 
 
 " The young one will miss me, I'm 
 afraid," he muttered, getting his moveables 
 together. In some hours the old one 
 came down rather cross to say that she 
 couldn't get Miss Ellen to bed. 
 
 " Hoo's cryin'g an' meemawing up theer 
 wi' her hands grippit, if only Measter Heath 
 would come up and say a word t' her." 
 
 He ran up goodnaturedly, and just before 
 he entered he heard a plaintive recitation 
 going on inside — " Old Aunt Bell's a-coming, 
 what shall I do?" 
 
 " Hullo, Ellen, what's wrong ? so you 
 won't go to bed?" 
 
 She instantly stopped her lament, and 
 without affording any explanation got up,
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 87 
 
 and, sobbing still, led him down stairs. He 
 betrayed her into gay talk presently; he 
 told her how old she was, and how she should 
 be thinking of growing a woman, and ex- 
 plained to her how she and Aunt Bell might 
 live apart if they didn't agree. He gave her 
 flowers he had brought in that morning — 
 crocuses just open ; and she began breaking 
 up one of the petals without thinking. At 
 last she said sharply : 
 
 " When are you a-goin'?" 
 
 " On Saturday ; and I'm going to ask 
 Mr. Cannon to let you stay with him for a 
 week, till things get smooth again." 
 
 This cheered her; there were two or 
 three apparitions of the old one at the door 
 on the look-out for Miss Ellen, but the 
 latter shook her head decisively. 
 
 " I'll sit up to-night, thank you, Sal — 
 you'd better go to bed." 
 
 Heath gave with her humour, knowing 
 what would come of it. 
 
 " Certainly," said he, winking at the old 
 woman ; " Miss Ellen shall sit up all night ; 
 be off, Sal, and have your tea." 
 
 G 4
 
 88 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 He then made the young one sit on the 
 sofa with the pillow behind her, and let her 
 talk away. Presently she said, very lugu- 
 briously, 
 
 " Father didn't play all this morning, 
 and ain't that curious, Jemmy?" 
 
 " Not it; you were so quiet to-day, he 
 thought surely 'twas Sunday, and you were 
 off at church." 
 
 The young one yawned. 
 
 She began to plan with him about her 
 visit to Mr. Cannon, and to open up all her 
 arrangements and cares. 
 
 " You know the ten pounds you're keep- 
 in' in the desk, Jem?" 
 
 "Ay, ay." 
 
 " Let that go to old Aunt Bell." 
 
 " Ay." 
 
 M And that will be something, Jemmy, 
 won't it?" 
 
 " To be sure it will. Something? I be- 
 lieve you." 
 
 " She must be told that Sal and I and 
 father are going to live alone." 
 
 " Ay, ay — I see."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 89 
 
 " You know I am accustomed to house- 
 keeping — ain't I, Jem?" 
 
 " Just ain't you; ay, and could keep the 
 dispensary too — at least, the liquorice de- 
 partment." 
 
 " We shall want the chest of drawers, 
 the three small beds, and the bed with the 
 French curtains ; the pattern is pretty, ain't 
 it? — birds of paradise and lilies." 
 
 " Ay— ay— ay." 
 
 " And the arm-chair, and four drawing- 
 room " the young one gave a great 
 
 nod and stopped. 
 
 " Where was I, Jem? — the drawing- 
 room chairs — I said that." 
 
 " Ay," said Heath, smiling; "the chairs, 
 and the screen, and the two turkey-tailed 
 dusters, and the stuffed crane — " 
 
 " Well, well — yes. Then we can let her 
 take anything else on a — you know that 
 thing." 
 
 " A hobby horse," suggested Heath. 
 
 " No, it's a word — val — a fair valua — you 
 said it the other day."
 
 90 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 "Ay — I know, I know — a fair valua- 
 tion." 
 
 a That's it," said the young one ; u we'll 
 let her have the stair-rods and carpets ; we 
 shan't want them shall we, Jemmy?" 
 
 " Stair-rods? not we." 
 
 " So she can have them on a fair 
 val — ua " 
 
 Her head sunk softly on the cushion, 
 and she was fast asleep. Heath let her lie 
 there for about ten minutes, till the breath- 
 ing grew regular, and then lifting her ten- 
 derly on his strong arms, he carried her 
 upstairs, and laid her, dressed as she was, 
 on her crib, and covered her; then he went 
 down to complete his arrangements. 
 
 Two days before he was to depart the 
 young one began to pluck up as if she had 
 become accustomed to the thought of losing 
 him — a little habitude will soften the worst 
 anticipations to us all, but children can 
 only grieve a day — the wound skins over 
 readily. The young one laughed and 
 hummed songs, and attended to her little 
 household cares, just clouding for a moment
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 91 
 
 if her aunt was named. As the day went 
 by her cheerfulness increased, and she re- 
 minded Heath, as she looked in for a second, 
 that she was going to spend the next day 
 at Mr. Cannon's. Heath was surprised at 
 her cheerfulness, and wondered how easily 
 children can resign their friends. He was 
 not exactly annoyed — he ought to have 
 been pleased the parting with his little 
 relative was made so easy; but he was 
 disappointed. 
 
 The burly little gentleman and his meek 
 companion had finished their calculations 
 in the upper rooms, and were now engaged 
 with the same polite industry in the kitchen, 
 when a circumstance occurred which ren- 
 dered their exertions unnecessary — a mys- 
 terious circumstance. A letter, was put 
 into Heath's hands, containing a hundred 
 pound note, and signed — " From the planet 
 Jupiter." 
 
 For hours he sat or walked with that 
 letter in hand, pondering. 
 
 When there was nothing for it but re- 
 signation he sat whittling idly and banter-
 
 92 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 ing the young one; but when the bank 
 note dropped out from the paper on the 
 table, the glow of joy which flitted over his 
 forehead signified how deeply he had been 
 suffering. 
 
 A half humorous, half indignant im- 
 pulse seized him to call up the sleek legal 
 vermin, settle their claims, and kick them 
 out. The relief would be immense — the 
 temptation was almost overwhelming; — 
 how the shadow would pass from the rooms 
 and the sunshine come in. 
 
 But second and cold thoughts came in 
 their turn. This was a charitable donation, 
 and how could he in his prime of manhood 
 stoop to receive it ? The nausea of pride 
 began to work on him. He began thinking 
 over all the possible individuals of his 
 acquaintance from whom it might have 
 come, but reason rejected each of them one 
 by one — too poor or too indifferent, too 
 thoughtless or too ostentatious. Who, then, 
 was their secret benefactor, whose creden- 
 tials were from the moon ? Whoever it was, 
 the only course which seemed open to him
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 93 
 
 was to lodge the money in the bank, and 
 advertise that it was lying there. 
 
 He was in this mood till evening, when 
 the affair suddenly took another aspect to 
 his mind as he heard the child murmuring 
 a song in the upper room. He marvelled 
 at his selfish stupidity in not seeing it so 
 before. 
 
 Her rueful little face rose up in his 
 imagination when she should see her piano 
 carted away, and all the dear old furniture, 
 amongst which she had grown. This 
 thought set him on a new track. It was 
 now evident to him the donation was 
 only sent to him as the acting person, but 
 was intended for the poor lunatic and the 
 motherless child. It came from some friend 
 of theirs, not his ; his pride grew mollified. 
 It was evidently sent by one who was aware 
 of the emergency, and was meant to pa}^ 
 the old doctor's debts, not his. Pride gave 
 way entirely. This was conclusive. He 
 set out, called upon the litigious creditor, 
 paid him in full, obtaining a receipt ; in his 
 company he returned. Sternly and shortly
 
 94 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 he called up his burly little friend and his 
 smug tall friend — it was about eight o'clock, 
 and they were having their tea — and much 
 to their amazement and inconvenience in- 
 formed them they had no further business 
 on the premises, and dismissed them, frown- 
 ing down their smiles. 
 
 His frown was quite unjust, but he never 
 reflected upon that. 
 
 Heath had now to reflect upon his future 
 course, and was in much anxiety and doubt, 
 as when a man arrives at three bleak roads, 
 the night coming on. To keep his present 
 practice — which was small — was to go 
 dinnerless or houseless, which he pleased. 
 To go to London and get employed on a 
 paper, like his rising bosom friend, was so 
 undefined a prospect, and rested so much 
 on chance, that he could not content him- 
 self with the hope. To push his profession 
 in some county less stocked with doctors 
 seemed the likeliest plan. Heath was young, 
 and full of courage and health; he could 
 fast forty hours, or walk forty miles. He 
 had a steady will, and a sanguine ambitious
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 95 
 
 nature. So he was scarcely sorry he was 
 driven out of this. He made a division of 
 his money with the young one, and bade 
 her give none of that to Aunt Bell. 
 
 Her spirits had come back, but now she 
 quite deserted the medicine-room. Old Sal 
 reported her as very busy among her things, 
 and livelier than she had ever seen her. 
 
 " That's right," said Heath. 
 
 Next day he heard that she had gone to 
 visit the Cannons, attended by Sal. 
 
 " All right," said Heath, " 'twill keep her 
 out of the way." 
 
 He had the house to himself all the day. 
 At four o'clock, indeed — that being the 
 hour at which the visit used to occur — the 
 door creaked open, and in walked the great 
 tom-cat, and took her place by the fire 
 quite relieved. The young one slept out. 
 It was the last day Heath was to spend in 
 the lodge. He said 'twas very lucky — -just 
 as well ; she'd be out of the way. But he 
 was secretly disappointed. As soon as 
 she'd got the money and the plan from him 
 the young one was found to possess no
 
 98 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 more fidelity in her than her selfish black 
 cat, who only loved the fire and the house. 
 The circumstance, slight as it was, made 
 him more careless in leaving Lower Weston. 
 That evening he sent on his luggage to the 
 stage inn. 
 
 She came home late next day — the faith- 
 less young one — in high spirits, happy as a 
 May queen. He could hear her upstairs 
 telling her adventures to old Sal. He 
 was foolish enough to feel a little angry — 
 so ungrateful and so young! When her 
 end was served she leaves him. Let him 
 look for the same treatment in the world 
 yet, beneath a kindlier seeming. He put 
 all thoughts of her away from him. 
 
 At five of the moonlight morning he was 
 up, and was thinking only of his journey. 
 He had left some cold breakfast in his 
 room below, and was proceeding along the 
 passage which led there, when old Sal 
 called after him — 
 
 " Please, Sir, breakfust's in th' parlour, 
 and th' tea's drawn." 
 
 He thanked her and turned into the
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 97 
 
 parlour. There was a bright fire, two 
 candles, heaps of toast, smoking cups, eggs 
 in plenty — boiled and fried on bacon. 
 The uncanny black cat presided at the 
 fender, and the young one presided at the 
 table, with a ready kiss for him. So they 
 made it up without a word of explanation. 
 
 Capital spirits had the young one during 
 breakfast, except when she got a pitiful 
 burn from the hot toasting-fork, which 
 drew some silent tears; but that was not 
 for the departure of her friend. 
 
 After due honours to the preparations, 
 Heath rose, and put on his heavy drab 
 great-coat with the three capes and the 
 great horn buttons. 
 
 "It's a fine morning, Jem," said the 
 young one, opening a shutter. "What a 
 terrible big moon you'll have." 
 
 He bade her a kind good-bye, and walked 
 softly to the door, forgetful, for the moment,, 
 there was not a sleeping child upstairs, 
 wondering how easily children can reconcile 
 themselves to the loss of friends. He opened 
 the hall door, and went out; beside him 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 slipped out the young one, and a bundle, 
 and a torn cat with tail straight up as a 
 candle-mould. 
 
 Heath said nothing, though surprised, 
 and waited to see how this queer proceeding 
 would end. He shut the hall door, smiling 
 in spite of himself, and pushed on to the 
 gate. The young one said nothing, but 
 looked business-like. 
 
 He opened the gate politely for her and 
 her attendant, and when they had both 
 passed through, shut it. Then all three 
 proceeded rather smartly down the road, on 
 and on, till they came to a wild spot by 
 the marsh. Heath could contain himself 
 no longer, and burst out laughing. The 
 neighbouring wild-duck rose with a great 
 flapping at the sound of that laugh. 
 
 " Now then, Ellen, where are you going ? " 
 
 " A-goin' to-London-wi-you-'cause-I-can't- 
 live-wi- Aunt-Bell- and- I've-paid-off-Sal- and 
 settled-the-bills-and-planned-to-go - wi'-you - 
 this-three days, Jem," replied she, with 
 great velocity. 
 
 "Well, I'll never believe in a sensible
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 99 
 
 person again. Why, I'd as soon have sus- 
 pected Mr. Cannon of dancing down the 
 church aisle." 
 
 She said nothing; but the lip began to 
 purse, and the eyelash to quiver. 
 
 " Why, bless your heart, dear, people 
 will say you eloped with me. There will 
 just be a doubt which, Tom or I, is . the 
 beau. Come, bid me good-bye again. You 
 know the way back." 
 
 She broke fairly down here, the poor 
 young one; down she sat on the road- 
 side, the sad moon up behind her, with 
 two black bulrushes cutting its disk; and 
 she cried and rocked like a little wraith. 
 
 It might have been temper at his ridi- 
 cule. It might have been fear of Aunt 
 Bell, or sorrow at really parting from her 
 old friend; may be, too, the pain of the 
 burn made itself felt now; but Heath took 
 pity. 
 
 " Come, Ellen, there's no need I should 
 go to-day. Come back; I'll defend you 
 from Aunt Bell, and we'll have a jolly day." 
 
 She was soon comforted, and they went 
 
 H 2
 
 100 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 back hand in hand, and had a very sensible 
 day of it. He felt it would be cruel to 
 leave her whilst this nightmare, Aunt Bell, 
 was hanging over her. 
 
 On Sunday came a tall handsome man, 
 whom Ellen had seen but once before in 
 that visit to Lady Bunbury. He came to tell 
 Jem the welcome tidings that the salary 
 was not to be withdrawn, and the Guar- 
 dians begged he would remain, and dis- 
 charge his duties in the same able manner 
 he had been accustomed hitherto. Here 
 followed a warm shake hands. Mr. Brom 
 would have taken notice of the young one, 
 but she fled away with her shy frown.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 101 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 OBLIGATION. 
 
 " Poor little thing, she has undergone a 
 good deal within the last few days." 
 
 " Not so much as you'd suppose," said 
 Heath, " I managed to keep her in the 
 dark; on the contrary, we are in capital 
 spirits this day or two. Now for good 
 news, my boy ! " he exclaimed, with beam- 
 ing face. ^ 
 
 " Her ladyship stood to us well," said 
 Mr. Brum hastily, " did she not? I can 
 tell you she has taken a great fancy to 
 you." 
 
 " Would you wish to hear a marvellous 
 piece of luck for me and my belongings 
 old and young?" repeated the surgeon, 
 seizing his friend by the arms with playful 
 force. " I know you'll be glad." 
 
 H 3
 
 102 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Let's hear it."j 
 
 " The bailiffs are gone, there's to be no 
 sale." 
 
 "Nonsense; so you've paid off that 
 fellow Crossley. You've saved your tool- 
 case and cross-bones this time, eh?" 
 
 Heath stared at him quick and hard. 
 " You know more of my affairs, John, than 
 I supposed." 
 
 For a moment Mr. Brom's eye grew un- 
 steady. 
 
 u Yes ; I 've heard a few particulars, I 
 daresay, from yourself; you're all right 
 now, I hope." 
 
 " Yes," muttered Heath, watching him, 
 " you'd have found us in an, awkward pre- 
 dicament on Friday." 
 
 Mr. Brom fell to looking over the old 
 parchments on alchemy, which were hung 
 over the chimney-piece, and commenting 
 upon them as if much interested ; they were 
 of no great age, and little value. 
 
 "Where did you pick up these?" he 
 said, meeting Heath's searching eye care- 
 lessly.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 103 
 
 " I picked them up in London. They'd 
 do for gun wads, I believe," said Heath, 
 walking to the window. He had suddenly 
 grown strangely stiff and reserved. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Brom, "we're not 
 going to lose you after all; I'm delighted." 
 
 " Yes; I 'm a fixture still," returned the 
 other coolly. 
 
 u Had you left us," continued Mr. Brom 
 heartily, " Lower Weston would have been 
 a changed place to me; 'twould hardly 
 draw me from London." 
 
 " Life in chambers is dull enough, I've 
 heard." 
 
 " Well, Jemmy," said Mr. Brom, stand- 
 ing at his side, " we '11 have our long walks 
 again, shan't Ave? and our battles over 
 metaphysics and fishing flies, we don't care 
 which." 
 
 " I suspect I shall be kept tight enough 
 at work," said Heath. 
 
 " Because this is my vacation, you see," 
 laughed Mr. Brum, " I seem to fancy it 
 must be everyone's vacation. I 'm a good 
 
 H 4
 
 104 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 drudge myself, Jem. Come, see me to the 
 gate." 
 
 Heath strolled out with him, his face like 
 stone. 
 
 John Brom threw his arm round the 
 surgeon's shoulders, as he used to do when 
 as schoolboys they rambled round the great 
 bleak playground by the sea, forgetful of 
 the master and the ushers, of Xenophon 
 and canes, talking of home and castle-build- 
 ing of the holidays. 
 
 " Now then, Jemmy, I've a favour, a 
 great favour, to ask from you. I have 
 been very much obliged from time to time 
 by the Librarian of the British Museum, 
 who has given me freely his aid and his 
 time; I want to show him how I feel it, 
 and — will you make over to me those old 
 parchments on alchemy, which I suspect 
 you don't appreciate? They are very rare 
 and valuable, I must warn you. A modest 
 request, Jem." 
 
 Surgeon Heath swung round impetu- 
 ously. There was a tear in his eye as he 
 grasped Brom by the hand and wrung it.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 105 
 
 " You 're the only man in the world 
 from whom I'd accept this obligation — 
 the only man — and I'll never forget it." 
 
 " Dont forget the parchments," laughed 
 Mr. Brom, who had guessed he was de- 
 tected. 
 
 " You shall have them to-night, old boy ; 
 they're not worth the carrying." 
 
 " That 's my affair," said Mr. Brom, with 
 grave sagacity, which almost deceived the 
 surgeon. 
 
 So Mr. Brom received the parchments 
 duly that evening, value about two and 
 sixpence. 
 
 It was lucky, then, Surgeon Heath had 
 chanced to come back again ; once out fairly 
 on the world, and Lower Weston had seen 
 no more of him. 
 
 On Monday a lady alighted at the door 
 from a fly, and entered the house with 
 the decided step of the mistress, and in 
 fact took possession of the establishment. 
 She announced she was come to live there, 
 and in person see her wrongs redressed. 
 She was a tall sandy woman, elderly but
 
 10 8 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 active, who you'd suppose would be 
 above noticing small matters. That small 
 matter, the trembling young one, she took 
 very little notice of, but it soon became 
 apparent that nothing in the way of per- 
 sonal comfort or advantage was too minute 
 for her particular regard ; — china, napkins, 
 cushions, work-tables, all the nice little 
 sundries of the house, were appropriated to 
 her apartment, and she had a keen eye to 
 the stray pence. She skimmed the cream 
 off everything, bewailing her privations, 
 and clamouring about her wrongs all day 
 long. 
 
 Miss Bell Drew had appropriated the 
 best room in the house, which she had fur- 
 nished with maidenly neatness and comfort ; 
 despoiled Surgeon Heath's room of a large 
 looking-glass and a pretty fire-screen. Her 
 pattens stood at the door like sentinels. 
 
 One morning she evacuated her head- 
 quarters and the house precipitately, with- 
 out her breakfast, and never lived in it 
 again. 
 
 It appeared that at dead midnight, when
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 107 
 
 Bell and her wrongs were wrapt in sleep, 
 her sting quite torpid in its poison bag, 
 she was suddenly roused by a smart 
 whack from her own patten shot at her 
 head, followed by the other with alarming 
 precision. She stretched her neck to scream, 
 when there came a roar which turned her 
 to gristle. Then the door was clapt, and 
 heavy steps and huge chuckles were heard 
 upon the retreat.
 
 108 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 a mother's pride. 
 
 There was a beggar's seat at the Beautiful 
 Gate of the Temple, and there is a shabby 
 corner in the heart of many ladies ; the 
 cabmen and the counter - gentlemen are 
 unanimous upon the point (though you, 
 madam, are an exception). 
 
 Mrs. Bronx's conciliating conduct towards 
 her capricious sister was mainly influenced 
 by an unworthy motive — an anxious re- 
 gard towards her last will and testament ; 
 a hope to place her son's name within the 
 parchment. Now the money had come 
 from the alderman-knight, with whom her 
 own son could claim no kinship; so it 
 might not seem such an outrage upon 
 justice were it willed away. But Mrs.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 109 
 
 Brom waked and watched that she might 
 compass this hope. 
 
 Mr. Brom had other more masculine 
 schemes for himself, that depended upon 
 his own will and energy. The Titan 
 scheme of the iron road had infected him. 
 He had risked boldly on its success, and 
 was paying the interest of a large number 
 of shares. 
 
 The conduct of the mother and son was 
 characteristic of each — the woman pas- 
 sively couching for a remote quarry, the 
 man strongly hunting down his perilous 
 enterprise. She used to warn him and 
 counsel him, the sum of her counsel to 
 him extending itself over many months, in 
 hints, half breathed wishes, quiet smiling 
 persuasion that languished into concession 
 till it begun again. Its purport was this, 
 to suspend the progress of the mansion for 
 a time. 
 
 Her ladyship entertained a deadly jea- 
 lousy towards the costly innovation. " The 
 man might just as well build a mausoleum 
 to me at once," said she. " He's not such
 
 110 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 a fool as to begin building a house like that 
 without very sanguine expectations indeed ; 
 he may be quite disappointed." 
 
 There were a hundred little circum- 
 stances connected with the projected change 
 of the house which nettled her from time 
 to time; for instead of putting the place 
 of which she had been dispossessed out of 
 her mind altogether, as a matter in which 
 she would have no further interest, and 
 over which she had lost control, she took 
 particular pains to supply herself with mor- 
 tifying information, as though she would 
 feed her bitterness. Long ago, when first 
 she left the old house, Mr. Brom had not 
 been quite as prompt as he ought, or might 
 have been, in requesting her to remain. 
 The request came late, though kindly 
 couched; her ladyship had taken affront, 
 and stiffly refused the offer. The house 
 was immediately let to a Yandal tenant, 
 who changed the sacred old house into a 
 great whitewashed farm-house. With self- 
 tormenting curiosity she learned that the 
 flower garden her sickly son used to love,
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. Ill 
 
 in which he used to stoop and grub all the 
 summer mornings, was turned up under 
 beans. The young yew-tree he had planted 
 with his own hands, on his eleventh birth- 
 day, that indeed she had spirited away one 
 night, and planted over his grave. Then 
 the big twin ash-trees, from which hung his 
 swing, with cushioned seat — he used to 
 swing his sickly frame himself, backwards 
 and forwards, crooning over the daisied sod 
 — they were both cut down and sawn up for 
 wheels. She cunningly concealed her in- 
 dignation at this, but she set it down to 
 her nephew's score. Little accumulated 
 affronts like these were treasured by her, and 
 sometimes harped upon for her sister's edi- 
 fication, who used to court their expression 
 that she might soothe them with her guile- 
 ful comfort and gradually explain them 
 away. 
 
 One great ' advantage Mrs. Brom pos- 
 sessed. Her presence seemed to have be- 
 come necessary to the old lady, who was 
 liable to great nervousness and loneliness 
 at times, and although she never enjoyed
 
 112 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 her confidence, yet it was made evident on 
 several occasions when Ruth was wounded 
 deeply, and seemed to be about to depart, 
 that her ladyship could not make up her 
 mind to the loss, nor dispense with the 
 companion of her nursery days. 
 
 Mrs. Brom then had some power on her 
 side, but she economised it. She still 
 strove to conciliate and to extinguish the 
 latent feud which smouldered between her 
 son and Lady Bunbury. 
 
 " Mother," said John Brum, in answer 
 to her wistful hints, " I've firmer ground 
 to stand upon than such uncertain expecta- 
 tions. There's a great era coming on. See 
 that brown road far away by the white 
 houses; it's advancing visibly every day. 
 That railroad is a gold mine ; never believe 
 in a speculation unless you can point out 
 a commensurate want. Why, the whole 
 merchant world is clamouring for some 
 means of land transport. We'll send the 
 stagnant cotton trade flying about north 
 and south; the bales are rotting on the 
 wharves for want of carriage. We'll cir-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 113 
 
 dilate idle millions among the poor. There 
 shall be no more pauperism. Chartism 
 shall lack a grievance ; and remember what 
 I tell you," he added with sudden descent, 
 " the man who has staked his hundred 
 will rake in his thousand. My house shall 
 grow out of the railway." 
 
 He and his mother used to drive to 
 Mead Hill, and rove about the grounds as 
 if they lived there already, and that the 
 pollards had grown to be great trees. 
 
 " I feel as if I shall live to see your 
 children racing down that corridor," she 
 said, pointing along the naked trench where 
 the hall and its passages should be. "I 
 know I shall live to see it — but we have 
 plenty of time, love; there is no need to 
 push the work." And then would follow 
 some wistful hints about attention to her 
 sister, and caution against speculation, and 
 stimulant words to exertion and achieve- 
 ment, which last were scarcely needed. 
 
 There was no post of honour too high 
 for his grasp, she imagined in her solicitous 
 motherly pride and love. Beneath this 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 lady's placid exterior there was an enthu- 
 siasm, an ambition, a weakness ; you might 
 never find it out, but once discover it, and 
 you might play upon it endlessly; she 
 would be a fool in your hands. Were I 
 to describe it to the full, it might be called 
 by shallow observers an inconsistency in a 
 character of such calm persistence ; but, be it 
 remembered, the calmness was surface. Her 
 enthusiasm had simply no feverishness in it, 
 and but one channel. Converse with her 
 upon any subject but one, and she would 
 exhibit both reading and ease ; not harry- 
 ing the topic too much, and always stand- 
 ing as it were dispassionately outside its 
 circle; but by one subject she was seized 
 and absorbed. 'Twas a weakness next door 
 to an egotism, and yet its opposite, in its 
 oblivion of self. — Pride in her son. 
 
 From his childhood this pride obtruded 
 itself. Her friends can remember many a 
 foolish, half pathetic instance ; some were 
 trifling stories, how she used to mea- 
 sure her boy's stature against little visitors 
 of his own age, he being a well-grown lad,
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 115 
 
 and show, in quiet triumph, how his sunny 
 hair towered above his companions' ; she 
 used to boast of his feats, and treasure his 
 secret sayings, and when they were reading 
 the History of England she used to tell 
 him playfully how he must enter Parlia- 
 ment, and thunder in the Senate, like the 
 great Chatham and Burke. She used to 
 bring him up to his aunt, with whom he 
 was a favourite then, that he might recite 
 his scraps of poetry, or act a scene of a 
 play; and the mother would watch him, 
 and listen, following him with mutely 
 moving lips and shining eyes. 
 
 Get her in talk about him when he grew 
 to be a man, and that old lustre would 
 come again beneath the drowsy lid. Her 
 manner would, in a measure, lose its poise, 
 and she would hold you in talk about him 
 with subdued fire, comparing your notes on 
 him with her own, and telling you of his 
 future. Poor woman, if she could have told 
 that future aright ! 
 
 Let us be thankful for our delusions, 
 i 2
 
 116 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Let the mother fable on ; for human happi- 
 ness is too often built of fables. 
 
 "Here is Fred, Sir," says a mother. "Fred 
 will have a commission when he's eighteen ; 
 he's just eight, and is always killing French- 
 men with his sword." But the wood is cut 
 for little Fred's coffin. 
 
 " Here is George, Sir ; he's to be a clergy- 
 man, and I mean him to get into lawn 
 sleeves in good time ; he is so fond of read- 
 ing and so clever." But George has snuffed 
 the sea, and taken the schoolboy craze for 
 adventure. He is, now, a thousand miles 
 away, steeped soul and body in curses, rum, 
 and tar, when he should be closing her 
 poor eyes. Let mothers fable on; some- 
 times their fables come true; ay, and fall 
 below truth, but how rarely ! 
 
 These twenty years back it was a tacitly 
 understood thing that her son was to be 
 heir to her sister. So John Brom, Sir, was 
 to be a man of large funded property. He 
 was to found a noble estate, build a princely 
 hall, to enter Parliament, and make himself 
 heard in England.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 117 
 
 The mother may never live to see that 
 day ; but when he is honoured and happy, 
 believe it, she will feel a thrill of pride 
 beneath the tombstone. 
 
 One morning there was rather a scene 
 between her Ladyship and her sister. The 
 accumulated anger flamed up from its 
 smooth crust suddenly. She had been 
 sneering all the morning at Brom's Folly — 
 she had caught up the name too — when 
 she suddenly became peremptory ; she must 
 know at once if her wishes or feelings had 
 the slightest weight with her nephew; she 
 would allow her feelings to be outraged no 
 further. Ruth had influence with her son, 
 and had neglected to use it. Her ladyship 
 knew that for one thing, and a great deal 
 more. If that ridiculous house were not at 
 once abandoned, her Ladyship said pretty 
 plumply she should feel every tie of friend- 
 ship severed at once, and mark the conse- 
 quence. — Mrs. Brom's temporising language 
 quite failed. 
 
 " He has been over at that place every da}' 
 since he came, and you go with him and
 
 118 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 encourage him in his folly. You might as 
 well build a vault for me at once." 
 
 She would not speak to her sister for the 
 rest of the day or the next. Then she sent 
 a formal invitation to her and her son to 
 join her at dinner to meet some friends.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 119 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 STALLED OX AND HATRED. 
 
 About this period, and long previous to it, 
 there was a great public demand for some 
 asylum, which by the refuge it might afford 
 would put a stop to the frightful increase 
 of infant murder which prevailed in all 
 manufacturing districts. These poor little 
 strays of humanity were from time to time 
 found in the beds of rivers, in sewers, 
 crammed into hayricks, laid out in the 
 pitiless night upon a doorstep to be frozen 
 to death. Large subscriptions had been 
 levied around Lower Weston, and a found- 
 ling hospital was erected, provided with 
 every accommodation within, and a small 
 swivel cradle without, fixed in the wall, in 
 which little deposits, averaging nine pounds' 
 i 4
 
 120 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 weight, were laid by haggard women o' 
 nights, and whirled within to the care of 
 more kind strangers. 
 
 We cannot explain it — we shall not pre- 
 sume here to attempt an explanation — but 
 it was her Ladyship's whim to be patron 
 saint of this institution. She used to drive 
 to it twice in the week ; she was conversant 
 with its every rule, with the details of its 
 outlay; she cross-examined its in-door 
 nurses as to the performance of their 
 routine, and selected its out-door nurses 
 from personal knowledge. She was of 
 course a liberal subscriber, and was attended 
 to with marked respect. On committee 
 days she would be surely met by the 
 trustees, the polished Dean of * * * * and 
 a brisk High Sheriff, with hats aloft and 
 bending heads, so that she could see their 
 bald spots. With them she discussed the 
 future interests of the institution, examin- 
 ing prospectuses for extension and improve- 
 ment, her eye guided over the parchment 
 by the Dean's fleshy finger, whilst his 
 smooth tongue enlarged , upon the beauties
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 121 
 
 and commodious points of the plan, and 
 deplored the lack of funds. It really 
 seemed by no means improbable that her 
 ladyship might canonise her name by an 
 ultimate endowment. 
 
 The topic of the hospital was a favourite 
 one with this amiable lady when conversing 
 with her nearest relatives, and a bete noire 
 to them. The handsome granite building 
 seemed a rock ahead between Mr. Brom 
 and his prospects, and there were gossips 
 who thought so too; for, of course, when 
 people of wealth exhibit a capricious discre- 
 tion in the conduct of their ordinary affairs, 
 speculation is apt to amuse itself with 
 guessing at that last grand caprice — their 
 will and testament. 
 
 Her Ladyship gave a dinner ; and whilst 
 ordinary hostesses give much thought to 
 bring together those who will draw plea- 
 santly together and unite freely, she seemed 
 to originate, upon this occasion, a bolder 
 system, by making the most disagreeable 
 assortment in her power. For instance, 
 the Dean, the High Sheriff, and a country
 
 122 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 gentleman, Mr. Acres, also a trustee, were 
 asked to meet Mr. Brom and his mother. 
 I cannot say that these three worthy and 
 benevolent gentlemen had any definite ex- 
 pectations of a bequest for the institution, 
 but they had guilty instincts. Not wil- 
 fully would they have thrust themselves 
 between Mr. Brom and any part of his 
 birthright, but having been the foremost in. 
 creating the fund and erecting the building, 
 they felt a very fatherly interest in its wel- 
 fare, and were certainly encouraged to sup- 
 pose that her ladyship's aspect towards the 
 institution was most fostering and earnest. 
 The Dean came first — a large, handsome 
 blond man, and with all the pomp of mien 
 which generally exists where there is an 
 utter absence of a sense of the ludicrous — 
 he engaged with his hostess in very be- 
 coming talk. Mr. Crowe and Mr. Acres 
 came in next. The first, High Sheriff of the 
 county — thin, tall, eye like quicksilver, and 
 a stereotyped smile ; the latter, a John Bull 
 squire — broad as long — who at a glance 
 you knew must live goodnaturedly with all
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 123 
 
 men whilst well fed and cared for, and 
 must die of apoplexy. There were a few 
 others, with whom we have nothing to do ; 
 Mr. Brom was grave and cold. 
 
 There was at least one element of concord 
 among this discordant company — the dinner 
 was choice; her ladyship always enter- 
 tained handsomely. She had a French 
 cook, and a horror of what she called " meat 
 dinners ;" an array of claret bottles showed 
 their dusty muzzles under the buffet, and 
 Champagne and Moselle went briskly around. 
 
 Conversation, therefore, did not wholly 
 languish. The Dean discoursed decorously 
 over his turkey — his talk marching in a 
 graver gait than that of any one else at 
 table, as was fit ; there was much stately 
 tact, and now and then a peep of worldli- 
 ness sub stola. 
 
 Then came a silence, and Lady Bunbury 
 introduced the hateful topic without com- 
 punction. She asked the Dean whether 
 they would immediately commence the fine 
 granite porch which she heard had been 
 projected so long. The Dean expressed his
 
 124 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 anxiety for such an improvement, but de- 
 plored the low state of their capital, which 
 would not at present admit of such an 
 undertaking. 
 
 " Oh, we must really raise a subscription 
 — people don't know what to do with their 
 money in this country," she cried; "we 
 must have the porch." 
 
 Mr. Crowe objected, gracefully, " The 
 children require of us bread, and shall we 
 give them a stone ? " 
 
 "Let them have both! let them have 
 both! Here's my nephew has quite a 
 genius for architecture. He'll plan your 
 porch for you con amove, and in princely 
 style, if only you pay for it." This was 
 all said so merrily that most of those pre- 
 sent lost the satire. 
 
 Mr. Brom felt slightly insulted by this 
 whole proceeding, both dinner and topics. 
 He spoke coldly and with disapproval of the 
 institution and its ends; poor people had 
 less scruple in deserting their children when 
 such palaces were built for them. 
 
 The Dean ate his dinner, but Mr. Crowe
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 125 
 
 took up a polite defence, and had rather the 
 worst of it against his keen antagonist. 
 
 " How sad, how sad ! " broke in Lady 
 Bunbury's rich key — she had been listen- 
 ing with half closed eyes and arch smile 
 — "the means of good we squander on 
 our luxuries till we become quite saucy 
 and cynical. Don't you think, Mr. Dean, 
 we ought to discipline ourselves conscien- 
 tiously by intervals of privation ? It 
 might be well for us, might it not, if we 
 occasionally shook hands with poverty just 
 to find out what the poorer classes endure, 
 you know ? and also, indeed, to prepare us, 
 lest, in fact, we might find ourselves among 
 them some day or other. 
 
 The Dean had just helped himself to 
 a mealy slice of breast, and buried it in 
 white sauce, as he replied, with some sub- 
 limity, 
 
 " Indeed, your Ladyship, it is unquestion- 
 ably our bounden duty to make a merciful 
 investigation of the misery surrounding us. 
 There ought to be a wholesome humility 
 derived by us from the occasional contact
 
 126 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 with distress, if properly weighed." He con- 
 cluded this portentous period by a savoury 
 mouthful. 
 
 " Take physic, Pomp," cried the High 
 Sheriff, innocently. 
 
 The Dean grew very pink. 
 
 " I entirely agree with you, Mr. Dean," 
 said Mr. Brom ; " but to return to the ques- 
 tion of providing for the poor, might not the 
 thousands that are laid out in raising pau- 
 per palaces to the poor and feeing a swarm 
 of officials, absolutely banish the evil of 
 pauperism, if more deeply and directly 
 applied?" 
 
 The Dean ate his dinner, and Mr. Crowe 
 laughingly turned off the subject. 
 
 "What was that you said, John ? "said my 
 Lady ; " it strikes me there's a good deal in 
 it. ' Might not the thousands,' you ob- 
 served, l that are laid out in palaces banish 
 the evils of pauperism' — a great deal of 
 truth in it — a deal of truth in it." 
 
 " But these thousands go among the poor 
 for honest labour, and leave no injury be- 
 hind them," said Mr. Brom, with good
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 127 
 
 temper; "your workhouses and foundling 
 asylums tend to idleness and vice." 
 
 " I declare, John," murmured her lady- 
 ship, in his ear, " to listen to you one 
 would suppose we found you at the door 
 one cold afternoon long ago, all in your 
 long hair. You're so sensitive, dear, on the 
 subject of the asylum. Now, gentlemen," 
 she continued aloud, " we must really 
 levy a subscription for my new porch — we 
 must absolutely begin to-day before we 
 part." 
 
 u I shall lay down my ten guineas with 
 all my heart," said Mr. Brom, at a faint 
 sign from his mother, whose hare-like eyes 
 were upon him. 
 
 " Oh, it would be scarcely fair, John, 
 from you," she replied, in the sinister under 
 tone. Then aloud — " Now, here's my 
 nephew, Mr. Dean, he liberally lays down 
 his money the very first on the list ; but it 
 is entirely for my sake, not the least from 
 conscientious motives. Now, ought I not 
 to be gratified?" 
 
 " I am sure Mr. Brom has not maturely
 
 128 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 considered the subject," said the literal 
 Dean. 
 
 " Well, come, Aunt," laughed Mr. Brom 
 (Mr. Brom was ready to drive with her 
 ladyship, nay, to give a dinner and help 
 the panada), " from this day forth you and I 
 shall study all the charts and plans, pillars 
 and porches, together. Let's begin to- 
 morrow, an hour by the ormulu clock, and 
 then I shall drive you to the place myself; 
 and we shall tip all the nurses, and I shall 
 pinch all the babies' cheeks and pat the 
 childrens' ; in fact, if you give them a 
 dinner next week I shall preside myself 
 at the long table and help the panada. 
 There's a fair offer," laughed he, knowing 
 that a jesting tone was the safest with the 
 old lady. 
 
 M Dear me !" she said, jeeringly, " what 
 sudden zeal! Here's a proselyte I have 
 made. I see you're quite prepared to im- 
 molate yourself to the cause this very in- 
 stant." Then raising her voice (her Lady- 
 ship was full of "asides"), "Mr. Dean, 
 what was the name of that Koman who
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 129 
 
 jumped into the hole for the public 
 weal ? " 
 
 " Quin tus Curtius," said the Dean, with 
 gracious promptitude. 
 
 u Quintus Curtius, was it? Now, don't 
 some commentators say he jumped in be- 
 cause he couldn't help it?" 
 
 " I'm not aware," said the Dean. 
 
 Here she rose with her sister, bidding 
 Mr. Brom take care of her guests ; and as 
 he held the door open for her, she said, as 
 she sailed by him, 
 
 " We mustn't let your zeal cool, Sir; I'm 
 quite proud of my proselyte." 
 
 He was relieved when she was gone. 
 What she had said had seemed but idle 
 banter to the rest of the table ; but to his 
 mother and himself there was lurking 
 danger in every word. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 130 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP XL 
 
 THE SAFETY BUFFER. 
 
 The next day her Ladyship demeaned her- 
 self by a little vindictive act, which was 
 visited upon her sister as being the only 
 one amenable to her petty tyranny. 
 
 Mrs. Brom was going out to take her 
 accustomed drive, and there was- a very 
 great delay in bringing round the phaeton 
 so much so that Mr. Brom went round to 
 haste them. To his surprise there was no 
 sign of preparation, the phaeton lay upon its 
 shafts. He angrily summoned the groom, 
 who came forth very horsy as to his legs, 
 and a bull terrier behind him. The man 
 informed him that the portly Dean slept at 
 the hotel last night, and her ladyship sent 
 the mare home with him to-day.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 131 
 
 Now, to estimate this little circumstance 
 aright, it should be known that the mare 
 which had been sent to pleasure the Dean 
 had been for many years appropriated to 
 Mrs. Brom's use alone, and had been pro- 
 vided for her by her sister that she might 
 have her regular daily drive, which was 
 necessary to her health, for she was not 
 strong. There were other horses which 
 would have conveyed the dignitary as well, 
 but no, her Ladyship could not lose the 
 chance to make her displeasure felt. The 
 little act was characteristic of her dealings 
 when displeased. 
 
 " Mother," said he, pale and stern, " we 
 must leave this house to-day." 
 
 " Why, what has happened, love? " 
 
 u Whilst this woman levelled her sneers 
 at me alone I could pass them over, but 
 I'll not have you insulted." 
 
 "What could she have meant?" mur- 
 mured Mrs. Brom. 
 
 " Meant ! you might guess till doomsday. 
 I know what I mean to do." 
 
 " I don't mind it in the least ; I have no 
 
 K 2
 
 132 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 inclination for a drive under this burning 
 
 sun." 
 
 " That's not the question, mother," he 
 said, shortly. 
 
 u What do you mean to do? " she asked, 
 soothingly. 
 
 " To have a luggage van at the door 
 half an hour after dinner, and have the 
 furniture removed ; every stick, by heavens, 
 we can call our own, and stowed away at 
 the hotel till I can get a house." 
 
 " Then let's dine first, darling," said 
 Mrs. Brom. 
 
 She let him stride the room and knock 
 over some books. Then her gentle gaze 
 caught his eye, and she beckoned him over. 
 He came and sat by her on the rocking- 
 chair. She took his hand and clasped it. 
 There's an eloquence in a mother's clasp. 
 Presently she rose and went out, there was 
 a feebleness in her gait that he marked 
 thoughtfully ; meantime he set the two ser- 
 vants to take down the beds upstairs. 
 
 Now what did she leave the room for? 
 She went down to order some little tempt-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 133 
 
 ing addition to dinner. Why do you smile, 
 my cynical reader? Believe it, your lofty 
 sorrow, or wounded pride, or just indigna- 
 tion is better borne when the feet are 
 warm and the table daintily spread; no- 
 thing in the range of philosophy smooths 
 away the ruts of life like the small com- 
 forts of home. 
 
 The dinner was punctual too, — another 
 piece of wisdom. The half hour's suspense 
 for the dinner-bell gives such an inflamma- 
 tion to the temper as takes twelve hours to 
 go down. 
 
 There was good hare soup, there were 
 crisp soles to begin with ; there was a nice 
 curry laid before him, a dish which his 
 soul loved. Mrs. Brom filled him out a 
 petit verre of liqueur before he ate a morsel. 
 Mr. Brom began to mellow over his glass 
 of sherry. He was hungry and dined 
 generously; as he sipped his glass of port, 
 rich as velvet, an upset house, a violent 
 packing up, a rattling of vans, became 
 hateful to his soul, not that his resolution 
 
 K 3
 
 134 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 wavered, but the flesh was averse. After 
 wine, before he could prevent it, he went 
 fast asleep on the sofa, in accordance with 
 habit, and his mother's Indian shawl was 
 tucked carefully around him, that its 
 warmth might deepen his sleep. He never 
 woke till nine, when a fragrant cup of 
 coffee gave him cheer. He spoke a little 
 scatteredly about vans with the sleep in 
 his big brown eyes. 
 
 Then his mother spoke out her wishes 
 with a moving voice. 
 
 She suggested to him that this angry 
 measure would only fall upon her. It was 
 she alone who would suffer between them. 
 She had comforts and advantages which he 
 could not afford her yet, and she was not 
 strong, and would miss them. 
 
 " I've struck my tap-root here," she said, 
 smiling, u and I'm too old a tree to trans- 
 plant — at least till you can build a hot- 
 house for me. Wait till Brom Hall be 
 built." 
 
 These arguments were too strong for Mr. 
 Brom to oppose ; he had the beds put up
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 135 
 
 again, and he slept in down under her 
 Ladyship's roof. 
 
 Her Ladyship's displeasure was visited 
 upon her sister, and Mrs. Brom pocketed 
 the affront, and laid a high value upon it. 
 It was one of her golden opportunities. 
 
 When she met her ladyship next day, 
 she met her so forgivingly, so gently and 
 cheerfully, yet with that shade of meekness 
 which marks where the wounded feelings 
 have been, that her Ladyship, having cooled 
 in the private contemplation of her outrage, 
 took a fit of repentance, and, kissing Ruth 
 affectionately, begged her company in her 
 mid- day drive. So out they went in the 
 carriage quite lovingly, and Mrs. Brom 
 opened on a forbidden subject with sur- 
 prising boldness. 
 
 My Lady asked her where they should 
 drive. 
 
 " Let us drive by Mead Hill," she said. 
 " I want you to see the lovely spot where 
 this foolish house of John's is begun. You'll 
 be charmed with it." 
 
 K 4
 
 136 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " To Mead Hill," said my Lady, calmly, 
 to the coachman. 
 
 Mrs. Brom felt like that gallant middy 
 who threw the lighted shell overboard. 
 They trundled on smoothly under the trees 
 in very amicable talk, and, as she passed 
 the wooded hills, Mrs. Brom directed her 
 attention to all the beauties of the site, with 
 a taking enthusiasm. Lady Bunbury seemed 
 interested, and praised many points; she 
 really showed some curiosity to see that 
 absurd mansion, but was sorely puzzled 
 how she might signify her wish. 
 
 " He had planned a suite of rooms for you, 
 and a pretty boudoir overlooking the Mersey. 
 'Twas a dead secret between us, but now 
 there's no further need to keep it. He 
 thought it might be a sort of country house 
 to you, where you could have country 
 air." 
 
 " You were very kind, I'm sure, my dear, 
 so was John." 
 
 u It's a pretty spot, ain't it ? You forgive 
 him for the thought of building there, don't 
 you. His establishment need not be great.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 137 
 
 He has very few expenses, you know, and 
 must rise in his profession." 
 
 " I shall be happy to see him rise in his 
 profession." Her Ladyship began to hum 
 a tune, and tap her parasol. In a few 
 minutes she proposed they should return, 
 but in the utmost good humour. Mrs. 
 Brom pushed the matter no further just 
 then. 
 
 Mr. Brom's pride played the hypocrite, 
 like all pride, from the worldling's, which 
 affects a good humoured indifference, — to 
 that of the child who won't eat its cake. He 
 met my Lady as if nothing had occurred ; he 
 made no advance personally; he was above 
 any lasting pique towards such an object ; he 
 just gave vent to his feelings by writing a 
 little squib. 
 
 With much incaution he left the stanza 
 in a book of bright French engravings he 
 was looking over. The housemaid had a 
 taste for pictures, and was turning over the 
 leaves, till, upon a fine print of Rouen, she 
 found the piece of treason, which she showed 
 to my Lady's confidential maid, who showed
 
 138 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 it to my Lady, who was charmed. She sent 
 for Mr. Brom, and read it out to him with 
 much unction and good humour. 
 
 " My Lady, old age is an unlovely thing, 
 Face wrinkled and rheumy — heart dry at the spring ; 
 But that often a meek and compensating grace, 
 Doth soften the wrinkles and hallow the face ; 
 And, for ossified feelings, kind habits atone, 
 But you're graceless, and wrinkled, and heartless alone. 
 
 Mr. Brom tried to laugh it off, but she 
 would not have the sweet little gem cushion- 
 ed thus by modest merit. It showed great 
 wit, which was lucky; for he might have 
 to live on his wit. 
 
 Mrs. Brom came to hear of this abruptly, 
 and the poor woman was appalled. For 
 twenty years and more she had striven 
 patiently to keep her son in prime favour. 
 She had guarded the old lady's vanity from 
 a scratch ; when up came her son, for whom 
 she had borne so much, and with a pasqui- 
 nade as broad as a butcher's knife gave 
 this same pampered vanity a merciless gash. 
 Had he assailed her moral character; had 
 he killed her horses, forged her name, fired
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 139 
 
 her house — mere trifles all. Alas, it takes 
 such loftiness of nature sincerely to for- 
 give a mere affront. But to hint at an old 
 belle's age, to call her wrinkled. Horrible, 
 most horrible! What a vindictive old 
 heart must lurk behind my Lady's smiles !
 
 140 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 THE SURGEON'S LUCK. 
 
 Surgeon Heath received a courteous little 
 billet from her Ladyship, requesting his 
 attendance. He read it over twice; he 
 attired himself in a new surtout, in a double 
 breasted black waistcoat; he smoothed his 
 flaxen hair with more careful strokes than he 
 was wont. Who knows what may come of 
 this new patient and friend whom fortune 
 has thrown in his way? 
 
 He made his call, and obtained a marked 
 reception, one which both flattered and 
 surprised him — it was a bona fide profes- 
 sional call too. Her ladyship communi- 
 cated her ailment with quite a fondness for 
 the subject, and he gave it a grave con- 
 sideration — head slightly aside. He col-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 141 
 
 lected his diagnostics with more dignity 
 and weight than did Sloperton, but he was 
 not the great and versatile dramatist which 
 
 that gentleman was ; he lacked what Galen 
 
 © ? 
 
 would have called the actio of the pro- 
 fession; but he went through it, on the 
 whole, very well, and wrote an honest pre- 
 scription. Her Ladyship's approval was 
 confirmed, and she asked him to return to 
 dinner. She pressed on him the loan of 
 handsome books and prints, for she said 
 she had not forgotten since she saw him 
 that he was a scholar. It was quite early ; 
 he need not go so soon unless he were 
 pressed for time. She would have his 
 opinion upon all an old lady's topics, and he 
 seemed to have a very sensible opinion at 
 her service upon each. He was fond of 
 Sam Johnson's " Rambler," so was she — 
 such a fine moral tone had the great doctor, 
 but people despised him now-a-days. Then, 
 if the Surgeon would not talk gossip, he 
 could listen and smile. What is the meaning 
 of that handsome smile ? thought her Lady- 
 ship.
 
 142 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 She had Mr. Brom to meet him at dinner, 
 whose evening costume and shining patents 
 she inspected, as she said jocosely, for 
 splashes of mortar; she added, that she 
 intended to present him with a silver trowel 
 one of these days — the very one with which 
 he was born in his mouth, said this frisky 
 old lady. The dinner went off very smoothly. 
 Mr. Brom drew out his friend so pleasantly. 
 He knew how to make Jamie shine, and to 
 make all his good points stand out. He so 
 managed it, by a cunning tact, that Jamie's 
 interest awakened; his eyes gleamed and 
 his tongue suppled. Silent and absorbed 
 in his wonted manner, he was apt, when 
 interested, so to forget himself as to be a 
 little boisterous in voice or laughter. Mr. 
 Brum was careful not to let him show 
 ungracefully, and to keep him in decorous 
 curb. 
 
 Her Ladyship alluded in her sportive way 
 to the little squib several times, and cited 
 some lines from it, but Jamie knew not 
 what made his friend wince so ; he had the 
 incaution to inquire from whom she was
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 143 
 
 quoting, and seemed struck with the couplet 
 she repeated for him, and muttered it over 
 twice, smiling. 
 
 As she was leaving the gentlemen to 
 their wine, she bade the surgeon good night. 
 "You know," said she, "you prescribe for me 
 early hours % but I am sure my sister will 
 give you a cup of tea at my request." 
 She slipped an envelope under his elbow as 
 it rested on the mahogany, and hoped he 
 would drop in next day to see how she 
 was. ' 
 
 When she was gone, Mr. Brom shook 
 hands with Heath, and congratulated him 
 warmly ; he filled his glass and his own to 
 drink success to the new patient. 
 
 " Why, my dear boy, you are promoted to 
 a perpetual cure. You've your foot on Slo- 
 perton's neck." He added seriously. "Now, 
 Jamie, you've made a useful ally ; take care 
 you don't lose her, for I can tell you it's easy 
 enough ; keep the ball going ; I'm quite easy 
 about you now, if you're alert." 
 
 u You think I «got on well to-night, old 
 fellow?" said Jamie.
 
 144 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 U I never saw you show to such advantage 
 — never." 
 
 " 1 like her," said Heath, simply. 
 
 Next day, he called, as requested, to see 
 his patient, and had the same enthusiastic 
 welcome, and from this time forth he saw 
 her constantly; she had him to dine with 
 her every Sunday, and he fared on every 
 delicacy of the season, which her Ladyship 
 had no occasion to press upon him. He 
 had the appetite of a healthy ill-fed man. 
 She could not undertake anything without 
 his advice, so that her steward began to 
 hate this meddling stranger that was put 
 over his head, and indeed complained of the 
 injury to Mr. Brom, who repulsed him 
 haughtily. 
 
 Her Ladyship must have Surgeon Heath's 
 opinion on horses, on shawls, on sermons, 
 and would not be put off by his modest 
 confession of ignorance. He had substantial 
 evidence too, offered with a delicacy which 
 gave pride the slip, of her trust and regard ; 
 so that this young adventurer was quite 
 taken by such kindness. ■
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 145 
 
 " Mr. Brom and he did not meet so often 
 as formerly, and somehow his friend was 
 always in a hurry when they did meet. 
 
 " My nephew don't like you as much as 
 he used, I fancy," said her ladyship, smiling. 
 " Could you guess why?" 
 
 " I have observed some change," he re- 
 plied, after a pause. 
 
 " Never mind it, Doctor — never mind it ; 
 it will do you no harm." 
 
 " I'm not conscious of offending him — I 
 may only fancy the change," he said. 
 
 " You are really a simple creature, 
 Doctor ; can't you guess why he is drawing 
 off?" 
 
 " I shall ask him if it continues," said 
 the Surgeon. 
 
 " Do. Ask him, Doctor," she laughed : 
 " and mind you tell me what he says." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 146 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 AT FAULT. 
 
 Mrs. Brom went up to her sister, sighing 
 every step and despairing; with nervous 
 anticipations she met her, and anxiously 
 measured the warmth of her greeting. 
 There was no perceptible change of 
 manner, and they talked on various sub- 
 jects without an allusion to Mr. Brom. 
 
 u You do look so invalided, Buth," said 
 my Lady; "are you made comfortable, 
 dear?" 
 
 "Indeed, I've nothing to complain of, 
 except that I shall be losing John so 
 
 soon." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " He has only been two months with me, 
 and he cannot stay to the end of the vaca- 
 tion."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 147 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 u I should, indeed, be glad that he'll be 
 out of reach of this dreadful railway busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " I thought you encouraged him — hem !" 
 
 u On the contrary, Jane ; from the 
 moment I found it to be contrary to your 
 wishes, but I " 
 
 " Oh ! that was not of the smallest con- 
 sequence," interrupted my Lady. 
 
 " I must say this in excuse for him," 
 said Mrs. Brom, "he has been naturally 
 anxious to find some road to competence." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " And, indeed, I share his longing," 
 smiled Mrs. Brom. "If only I could see 
 his way clearly — you can understand, I 
 daresay, Jane, how pleasant it would be to 
 me to find a home with my son." 
 
 "Why, dear?" 
 
 " Why, I should wish to relieve you of a 
 burden." 
 
 " Tut, love ! my shoulders are broad 
 enough to bear it." 
 
 " Do you know, dear Jane, I have begun 
 
 L 2
 
 148 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 to fancy of late that John has been — a — 
 losing his place in your affections." 
 
 " Affections ? hah ! I don't quite under- 
 stand the phrase, Buth; but if you come 
 to sound me as to the ultimate disposal — " 
 
 " You are unjust," broke in Mrs. Brom. 
 " I am an invalid. All I can expect from 
 you is perhaps a handsome tablet to my 
 memory in some few years," and she play- 
 fully spanned her attenuated wrist. 
 
 " I should be very sorry to see that day," 
 said my Lady. 
 
 " And," continued Mrs. Brum, " as to 
 John's hopes I know little; but I should 
 imagine the independence with which he 
 has been acting, proves that he looks to his 
 own exertions alone, poor fellow." 
 
 " Poor fellow /" echoed my Lady, in a 
 drawl of mock pity, and then she got into 
 a fit of sly, fat laughter. " My dear love, 
 it is really too absurd your pathetic voice ; 
 there never was such ill-placed sympathy. 
 Why, the young man is in charming naughty 
 health and spirits. Has the creature been 
 complaining?"
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 149 
 
 " No, Jane," said Mrs. Brom, not discon- 
 certed; but both lie and I are grieved to 
 observe that your kindly feelings towards 
 him have very much cooled." 
 
 " He never told me any such thing about 
 this grief, and I don't believe him." 
 
 " John is proud, and is hurt, he was so 
 fond of you." 
 
 " Ah, Ruth ! pride is a very extra- 
 vagant thing, quite beyond John. It is 
 the privilege of merchants and peers, but 
 it's quite ridiculous in a man who is con- 
 tracting a load of debt. He'd be a rich 
 man if his debts were his fortune." 
 
 " It may be so, Jane; but without pride 
 a man is contemptible. Had not John 
 really cared for you, you could not have 
 wounded him." 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know what you are 
 talking of. And another very expensive 
 matter is wit ; both together are ruinous." 
 
 " I know perfectly to what you are 
 alluding, my dear Jane ; can you really sup- 
 pose those extravagant lines were written 
 upon you?" 
 
 L 3
 
 150 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " So he repeated them to you, did he? " 
 
 " He repeated, at my request, a little 
 chanson, or something of the kind, when he 
 told me that you had imagined he wrote 
 them on you. Why, if he was capable of 
 pasquinading his mother's only sister he has 
 talent enough to produce some distant 
 resemblance. I declare I cannot seriously 
 reason upon it." 
 
 But Lady Bunbury only smiled with her 
 incredulous half closed eyes. 
 
 " Now, if you are really under any such 
 impression, do pray tell me candidly." 
 
 " My dear, I didn't think twice about 
 them." 
 
 u Indeed, I thought so. I assured John 
 so. I know he has been pained and hurt 
 by your suspicions, dear Jane." 
 
 u Suspicions, nonsense ! And, tell me, 
 Ruth, he rides over to old Gowan, I hear ; 
 I suppose he's ordered a steam-engine from 
 him." 
 
 Mrs. Brom laughed gaily. 
 
 "He has been there once or twice, I 
 believe. But Mr. Gowan would as soon
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 151 
 
 have sold his daughter, poor man, as his 
 engine." 
 
 u Gowan has a pretty daughter," said 
 my Lady ; " a pity John don't take a fancy 
 to her, and bring you home a bride." 
 
 u Ah ! a sad thing. That girl, I hear, 
 eloped the other day with the captain of a 
 coal vessel, who is, I fear, a very bad cha- 
 racter. Poor Mr. Gowan pursued them to 
 Liverpool, but could do nothing, for she is 
 of age, and quite determined." 
 
 " How good ! " cried Lady Bunbury, with 
 sudden animation. 
 
 " They say there was a very extraor- 
 dinary scene between the old man and his 
 daughter, — a most unnatural one, and I'm 
 shocked to say it's very doubtful whether 
 any marriage has taken place or ever will. 
 It is such an exposure for the poor old 
 man." 
 
 " Shocking ! Dear me ! Tell me all about 
 it. How good ! " 
 
 My Lady's face lighted with interest. 
 
 U I must have the whole story; oh, do, 
 pray, every word that passed. First tell me 
 
 L 4
 
 152 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 what sort of a creature is this Miss Gowan. 
 How clever you are, love ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Brom, who thoroughly knew her 
 sister's mood, gave way genially, and told 
 her all that had occurred with a graphic 
 tongue. You would never have guessed that 
 the cosy gratified old lady who questioned, 
 laughed, applauded, was the haughty, mis- 
 chievous, worldly old woman of five minutes 
 ago. 
 
 She lunched with her delighted sister 
 very amicably, and kissed her affectionately 
 before she went. 
 
 " Here, Ruth," said her ladyship, hand- 
 ing her an embossed envelope ; " here is the 
 cost of that handsome tablet to your me- 
 mory paid in advance." 
 
 There was a fifty pound note within. 
 
 Mrs. Brom felt lighter; she really be- 
 lieved that she had removed the prejudice 
 and healed the wound, and yet she was a 
 shrewd woman, and full of quiet scrutiny. 
 I have my doubts of her success. 
 
 Mr. Brom paid the Stoker a short visit 
 of condolence immediately after his bereave-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 153 
 
 ment. He found him in his front parlour, 
 sulky and silent, over old account books, 
 and in a few kind words tried to make him 
 sensible of how much he sympathised with 
 his disaster. 
 
 " Spare your pity, measter, I'se done 
 wi' her. A gradely fine morn, ain't it? " 
 
 Mr. Brom assented. 
 
 " I'se done wi' her. If hoo kem t' th' 
 door toneet, I tell 'ee, I'd tin it in her 
 face." 
 
 " It is so very sad," said Mr. Brom. 
 
 " We've a good shuttance o' sitch a 
 wench ; but £11 just tell 'ee wot grunts me 
 most i' the matter that I've not put a 
 bullet throof his d — m curly yed astid o' the' 
 puir dowg I shot this morn — yon theer." 
 
 Mr. Brom turned off the subject quickly, 
 and asked him about his iron daughter 
 which remained to him yet. 
 
 " I've not thowt much abawt it o' late ; 
 to tell you th' truth, measter, I'm a bit 
 pottert this while back. Happen you've 
 not had breakfast? " 
 
 Mr. Brom saw the poor old man was
 
 154 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 pre-occupied with his late disaster, he re- 
 fused to stay, and bade Go wan good-bye. 
 
 "I'm returning to London," said he ; "and 
 I'll not be likely to see you for a year or 
 more. When next we meet, I hope I'll 
 find you in better cheer." 
 
 "When next we meet, mon, yo'll not 
 boggle to shake hands wi' me afore the 
 Queen. Good day t' ye, measter. Yo'll 
 hear o' me; yo'll hear o' me." 
 
 He accompanied his visitor in silence to 
 the hall door ; as he held it open, he pointed 
 mysteriously with his thumb to the door of 
 his laboratory. 
 
 "Hoo gets toward finish?" said he, with 
 a rugged smile as he closed the door. 
 
 Her Ladyship was a little treacherous. 
 
 Surgeon Heath had become a marked 
 favourite, and her ladyship spoke of him 
 with an unnecessary frequency and appro- 
 val. Whether she did so with a malicious 
 meaning or not, would be hard to deter- 
 mine distinctly, there are so many shades 
 of significance in manner and accentuation. 
 The best measure, perhaps, was Mrs. Brom's
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 155 
 
 sense of it. She never heard Surgeon 
 Heath's name at last, or caught his step 
 on the stairs, but her heart sank. 
 
 She spoke of the young surgeon to her 
 son with strong prejudice and indirect 
 accusation, but he laughed at her. 
 
 " Poor Jem ! You're very hard on him. 
 Are you aware that whoever assails his 
 intimacy in this house impugns my wis- 
 dom? — which I won't stand. I introduced 
 him here." 
 
 " He is so pushing; he has so little deli- 
 cacy," murmured Mrs. Brom. 
 
 "It's the best trait I have observed in 
 her Ladyship yet," laughed Mr. Brom. " He 
 really wanted a lift. I've been polling 
 for patients for him — people won't get ill 
 to oblige a poor fellow ; it's a sort of charity 
 they don't understand; but my good aunt 
 understands it in perfection." 
 
 This is the way he scoffed at suspicion, 
 but he met Heath seldom now, and never 
 called at the Lodge.
 
 156 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 A WORKER. 
 
 He determined to get back to London be- 
 fore the vacation was over, to work that 
 pressed upon his mind. His mother, at 
 first^ was grieved to lose him before the 
 time she had calculated upon, but she felt 
 it was for his interest. Nothing but ab- 
 sence could now remove the prejudice and 
 anger from her ladyship's mind, and she 
 began to feel her son could make himself 
 independent of all such expectations, if he 
 chose. She loved to talk to him of his 
 future. 
 
 They used to stroll oif, talking and plan- 
 ning, Mr. Brom humouring her hopes. 
 
 Lord Penguin's place was neighbouring, 
 and there was a magnificent avenue of old
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 157 
 
 oaks, worlds of verdure ; this was a favourite 
 haunt. One warm morn they were walking 
 up the avenue arm-in-arm. A white mass 
 of cloud stood in the vista ; like a sphynx, 
 it seemed immoveable for ever. 
 
 u Tou must keep in the world, John. Make 
 us hear of you in these quiet country parts. 
 Let us read of you, love." 
 
 She talked of great precedents, how men 
 strove and were sure to rise by an un- 
 wavering will and watchfulness upon the 
 spot. 
 
 " Keep in the world and let your powers 
 be known. / want to read of you. Just 
 wait prepared for an opening, and then force 
 the rest. Fame is like the Speaker of the 
 House, John, you'll have your chance by 
 and by, if you watch to catch her eye, and 
 then mind you keep it on you. There is 
 nothing a resolute man of intellect may not 
 win when once he gets that look. So make 
 it the object of your life to catch that great 
 Speaker's eye." 
 
 So she spoke beneath the trees of eld — 
 hounding him on to fame — wrinkled trees,
 
 158 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 which had seen five generations of men 
 depart, whither — God he knows. 
 
 A few days after he returned to London. 
 
 He had chambers in Lincoln's Inn, area 
 story, for which he paid sixty pounds a 
 year, a heavy item in his expenditure, but 
 his habits were far from expensive. He 
 never raked, and never entertained beyond 
 inviting a brother barrister or two, who 
 had his own studious tastes, to a quiet 
 dinner now and then. On Sunday, perhaps, 
 a lusty row up the Thames, or an excursion 
 to some far country spot unknown to cark 
 or toil. He had a large and select circle 
 of acquaintances, members, literary men, 
 and artists, which he managed to retain, 
 and it is possible to keep yourself in the 
 memory of male friends without morning 
 visitings and frivolous nights. 
 
 Mr. Brom was engrossed by a very ex- 
 tensive work, which seemed likely to engage 
 him, if its advance was in proportionate 
 measure to its foundation, for a large seg- 
 ment of his life. The name was "The 
 Eulers of England."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 159 
 
 Mr. Brom was an iconoclast. The mar- 
 tyr king was knocked from his pedestal, 
 and Cromwell exalted in his stead. The 
 second Charles's gay trains were reviewed 
 for us in Watteau groups. Quaint traits 
 and noble were boldly commingled in the 
 same character, as Nature teaches, and the 
 gossip of History enlivened her buskined 
 march; those subtle touchings of detail 
 which make the dry bones stir. 
 
 Cherry-cheeked Andrew Marvel, who 
 feared not to tell truth to the throne itself, 
 unsoiled by vanity or greed, and who 
 fetched Sir Philip Harcourt a sportive box 
 on the ear to the scandal of the outraged 
 Speaker; Denzil Holies, stout, irate, and 
 honest, his eloquence rough with texts and 
 Latin, his opinion narrow and red-hot; 
 Finch, of the shrewd intellect, who would 
 have hanged harmonious Master Milton. 
 
 In the work was much earnest untruth, 
 a brilliant ingredient. There were para- 
 doxes to break the stream of eloquence 
 against, much force and sagacity, many 
 living portraits of dead orators and states-
 
 160 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 men, — for lie had mined deeply into that 
 marvellous red sandstone of history, the 
 Harleian Collection. 
 
 Our modern historians are bold com- 
 parative anatomists. From some isolated 
 fossil trait of character poked out of MS. 
 strata they can build up the perfect struc- 
 ture of the required man. 
 
 This labour absorbed him, and he brought 
 to the task a vast amount of industry, and a 
 great and varied accumulation of knowledge. 
 He had many advantages, a free access to the 
 library of the Museum, among the foremost. 
 He was always transcribing from every 
 source, rare old books, MSS., authorities 
 ancient and modern, gathering straw for 
 his bricks. 
 
 He enjoyed the friendship and advice of 
 a man of genius, whose name is well known 
 in a large literary circle, and whose assist- 
 ance Mr. Brom has repeatedly acknowledged 
 in his journal. Besides, he was quick and 
 dexterous, and in the gangway of informa- 
 tion, where the opinions, the long lodged 
 conceptions of a thinker, might quickest 
 ripen.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 161 
 
 He used to be up with the sun, light his 
 own fire, and make a cup of coffee, then to 
 work with quenchless courage and en- 
 durance. Aching back, numb fingers, swim- 
 ming eyes, would still assail in vain till 
 the noise of waking London began to rise — 
 Fleet Street rumbling in the distance like 
 an ocean margin. Sometimes he had to 
 drag through tasteless drudgery, striving 
 to inject warm blood into the dead mass; 
 but often his morning task had scarce com- 
 menced when his heart began to throb and 
 large suggestions fire him, and almost 
 bewilder; he felt as if he could take en- 
 tombed History by the hand and bid her 
 arise and speak to him. 
 
 He loved his work, and as it grew felt 
 the artist-triumph arise, which, heaven 
 knows, is often and often as illusory as the 
 triumph of the poor bedlam king. 
 
 Never pity the man who loves his creation 
 for its own sake, not for its reflection in 
 that greasy mirror, public taste. Pity 
 those who cater to your idle hours in the 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 railway and the reading room and must 
 tremble at the inversam pollicem of butter 
 merchants' wives. These delicacies they 
 offer you are pdtes de foie-gras — their own 
 wretched livers fattened and cooked for 
 you, the growth of their sweat and their 
 pain. 
 
 But the artist tackling to his beloved 
 work, hearty and fierce, he has received his 
 reward before you have come to thumb his 
 pages or slang his picture. 
 
 Mr. Brom's ambition was of the staunch 
 order, the class which fails or succeeds, 
 according to the power at its command. 
 It either unfits a man for life and robs 
 him of opportunities, or wins for him a 
 crown. 
 
 More generally convenient is the dash of 
 bad breed which leads a man to follow cross 
 scents, as the game or the vermin equally 
 attract the mongrel hound. Far more ser- 
 viceable is it in these hunting grounds of 
 ours from which the grand game have 
 departed; — the mongrel will surely run
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 163 
 
 down substantial daily booty when good 
 hounds drop dead upon the scent. 
 
 With cramped means, in loneliness, un- 
 cheered by loving voices to bid the work 
 God speed, Mr. Brom lived happily, 
 proudly, hewing out his marble blocks. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XY. 
 
 MY LADY S DOCTOR. 
 
 Surgeon Heath continued his frequent 
 attendance upon Lady Bunbury, and throve 
 on it. He had quite superseded Dr. Sloper- 
 ton, whose emolliency was not to her taste. 
 Now her Ladyship was not known to be ill, 
 though by no means strong, and it seemed 
 more likely her indisposition belonged to 
 the class of elegant amusements resorted to 
 for relief in too much luxury and leisure. 
 It could scarcely be possible, at least, that 
 Heath's attendance was altogether pro- 
 fessional, and his conduct was such as to 
 provoke suspicion. When you considered 
 the man's strong rising propensities, his 
 impatience of poverty, and motives for in- 
 dependence, it did not look well. His
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. Hi 5 
 
 insinuating profession, his upright manner, 
 his comely face and skin of ivory, his strong- 
 sense, what might they not effect ? No 
 man was ambitious if he were not, though 
 he made no parade ; and in this rush 
 and struggle of young men besieging the 
 city of Success, the honestest of them 
 will not pause if his neighbour fall, even 
 though his horse's hoof ring on his friend's 
 forehead. 
 
 Her ladyship was a favourite topic in 
 Lower Weston. When people wanted to 
 be droll, her last caprice was sure to inspire 
 them. The village mimic had caught her 
 voice and shrug to a nicety. The cynic, 
 an animal who finds his gift especially in 
 raillery of poor old ladies, as if he had been 
 sometime jilted by a dowager, and served 
 right, had an endless theme in her Ladyship. 
 You never saw Mr. Cynic at last without 
 thinking of an old lady. Poor gentry, whose 
 chief comfort in their straitened circum- 
 stances is a complaisant criticism of the 
 rich who don't ask them out, surveyed her 
 Ladyship's absurdities with both pleasure 
 
 M 3
 
 166 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 and profit ; she was worth another hundred 
 a year to them. 
 
 Amid this circle of criticism, how could 
 such a gross matter escape as this sudden 
 freak of favouritism — the rise of the hum- 
 ble practitioner into her confidential friend 
 and medical adviser? I cannot echo their 
 indignant condemnation that first embodied 
 itself in murmurs, then in sneers and good 
 stories, which, once begun, fasten on a man 
 like barnacles on a vessel ; — the shameless 
 effrontery of his seeming modesty — the 
 obvious scheming intent — the ingratitude ! 
 this was his return for Mr. Brom's gene- 
 rous support! You shall see how this 
 treacherous cuckoo will tumble the poor 
 dickies out of their nest. 
 
 Thus had Lower Weston the additional 
 blessing of some one to vilify. It came 
 to pass that there was not to be found 
 a dull companion in the whole neighbour- 
 hood, at tea, or at dance, or at dinner, — the 
 weather first, and then her Ladyship and 
 Surgeon Heath. Happy Lower Weston ! 
 all the funny things, and the bitter things,
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 167 
 
 and the indignant things that could be said 
 in those days ! 
 
 Like those pasteboard toys which, viewed 
 obliquely, present smiling features, and, 
 looked at straight, a grimacing hag, her 
 Ladyship's aspect to Lower Weston was 
 that of a selfish, ridiculous Begum, to 
 Heath a steady friend — a friend endeared 
 the more to him by the sneers and ridicule 
 of her enemies. 
 
 Presents of fruit and vegetables to the 
 lodge — drives in her Ladyship's carriage 
 for Ellen until she grew older and more 
 reserved — delicacies for the old Doctor, 
 and fees to the Surgeon, who was certainly 
 fond of the pounds, were among the sub- 
 stantial kindnesses of her Ladyship. And 
 these went on and grew to customs : the 
 hamper came as a matter of course, accom- 
 panied by her Ladyship's hale little gar- 
 dener, hat off in the hall ; or a liveried 
 servant left a parcel of books for Surgeon 
 Heath, or her Ladyship's carriage stopped 
 at the door to make kind inquiries for the 
 
 M 4
 
 168 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 intractable young lady of the house and her 
 father. 
 
 Heath was grateful to her Ladyship, but 
 his gratitude to Mr. Brom seemed to many 
 observers to languish. Indeed, he saw him 
 so seldom, that it was not easy to keep such 
 an evanescent emotion warm. The obliga- 
 tion galled him sorely still : he could not 
 in possibility liquidate the debt. 
 
 This is a common and painful paradox : 
 " Oblige a friend, and you make an enemy." 
 It is sometimes so, we have many of us 
 proved it ; but if we investigate searchingly, 
 shall we not find there has been a fine 
 patronising touch accompanying the favour? 
 We have got an advantage of situation as 
 benefactor ; has not a sense of it been 
 reflected in our looks and phrases, even in 
 our exaggerated abnegations of all merit? 
 An obligation is a yoke which, if we place 
 on a friend, we must be very careful that 
 there be not galling angles that will fray. 
 If we exact any portion of that dear equi- 
 valent, his self-respect, from a man, we 
 must soon consider ourselves trebly re-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 169 
 
 compensed, and the obligation more than 
 cancelled. 
 
 Surgeon Heath had received a hearty lift 
 from Mr. Brom in his need, and had en- 
 deavoured to show his sense of the obligation 
 in the flush of gratitude. He thought their 
 friendship had been very much cemented 
 by Mr. Brom's zealous conduct. For 
 many a month he never thought of it but 
 he glowed, even though the benefit was in 
 reality more conferred upon the invalid and 
 the child than upon himself. He met the 
 intention and accepted it, looking in vain 
 for some plan to repay it in kind. 
 
 But it seemed to him for the last year 
 that Mr. Brom had begun to avoid him , it 
 might be jealous fancy, and he could not 
 but imagine there was a tone of reproach 
 in his voice, and a shade of it in his eye. 
 It was quite obvious that any approach to 
 confidence from him (Heath) was always 
 balked as if by chance. This little 
 cross was accident; that cold look was 
 unintentional ; this brush by in the street, or 
 absence from home when he called was
 
 170 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 mere inadvertency and chance ; but a great 
 many so-called chances concurring, indicate 
 some law, some influence behind the scenes. 
 
 Mr. Brom used to take apartments for 
 himself, after the differences with his aunt, 
 about a quarter of a mile nearer town, and 
 opposite the grand entrance to Lord Pen- 
 guin's place, and, during his short visits 
 home, his mother used to come over to him, 
 and remain till his departure; so the Sur- 
 geon's frequent calls upon her ladyship 
 gave him little opportunity of meeting his 
 old friend. He felt then under the oppres- 
 sion of an obligation to a man who looked 
 down upon him. 
 
 On one occasion, Mr. Brom was making 
 a visit to his aunt ; Heath met him at the 
 gate, and was the one to stop and speak, 
 after first greeting. 
 
 " I called on you," said Heath, " but, 
 as usual, you were out." 
 
 M Very unlucky. Yes, I heard you called. 
 Well, in the old shop still, I suppose ? " 
 
 " In the old shop. — I had hoped to see 
 more of you, John," said Heath. I know
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 171 
 
 less than many a stranger of your doings 
 and plans." 
 
 " I dare say more than myself, Jem. I'm 
 rather hurried to-day, putting in a duty 
 visit, you see. I needn't ask you in, I 
 believe you've the entree.' 11 
 
 " I'm going home, thank you. Good day." 
 So they parted. 
 
 " He suspects me," muttered Heath, 
 angrily. " Let him; I cannot repay him 
 yet, and he takes his advantage." 
 
 James Heath should have been well 
 seasoned to mortification. He had under- 
 gone a course of that covert unpopularity 
 whose symptoms lurk in a man's daily 
 walk. It was remarkable how he seemed 
 to bluff off insulting glances and slighting 
 acts, or rather omissions. It was a clear case 
 here, that Mr. Brom had a right to temper 
 his manner as he pleased, and had com- 
 mitted no rudeness; yet the insinuation 
 implied by his reserve was sufficient to fire 
 up the Surgeon.
 
 172 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 THE ONE AT HOME. 
 
 For some years Heath laboured under a 
 chronic discontent. He was fitted for a cer- 
 tain professional success, and was capable of 
 strong desultory effort. Unused strength 
 grows feverish. That conviction, so com- 
 mon and fallible, that he was meant for 
 better things, embittered his distasteful 
 daily toil, which he was too manly to shirk. 
 Duty of the homeliest, and family feelings, 
 tied him down, and were likely to tie him 
 down all his years of prime. The impres- 
 sion began to haunt him, as life went by, 
 that he had but ten or twelve years to suc- 
 ceed in, and then but ten or twelve years to 
 enjoy his success. True or not, this morbid 
 impression grew, and possessed him for a 
 long period.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 173 
 
 It is natural to suppose that it should 
 but strengthen as he grew older, that 
 the success and distinction of his cotem- 
 poraries should inflame his impatience, and 
 that his ill odour in the neighbourhood, 
 evincing itself in little daily affronts, 
 should tempt him to be gone. 
 
 But, on the contrary, for some years 
 he seemed to grow gradually insensible to 
 affront. His feverish restlessness was lulled 
 away, and his discontent, which had grown 
 almost characteristic, totally dispersed. The 
 change, if observed at all by his acquaint- 
 ance, was readily explained by the sub- 
 stitution of a meaner ambition for his 
 honest independent spirit; in fact, auda- 
 cious designs upon her Ladyship. 
 
 Ellen had grown from the child to the 
 pretty lass — a stranger in the neighbour- 
 hood. Old residents among the middle 
 classes who remembered her mother used 
 to say her character was just her mother's 
 over again. Nobody ever knew Mrs. Tern, 
 and nobody would ever know her daughter, 
 except the parish clergyman, indeed, and a
 
 174 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 few pauper females she used to visit, and 
 her class at the Sunday school. Unlike 
 her mother, she seemed attentive to her 
 religious duties, and was always in her 
 place at church. The good easy people, 
 would have asked her out to tea and 
 adopted her into their circles — the thriving 
 grocer's wife and daughters, the opulent 
 bacon manufacturer, and two well-to-do 
 cheesemongers' families — but she held aloof 
 from them all with a shyness almost stern. 
 Yet they talked kind things of the mother- 
 less girl, for they felt, by some instinct with 
 which these excellent classes are gifted, 
 that no pride mingled in her reserve ; she 
 was just like her poor mother, they said. 
 
 Her Ladyship, the patroness of Grau- 
 wacke Lodge, used to notice her much in 
 her childhood, used to take her out drives 
 in her carriage, pay for music lessons, and 
 buy her pretty jackets and collars. She was 
 as a goddess to the mute young one — grand, 
 powerful, and infallibly good — till one day 
 the child caught her in a lie, and took a 
 silent note of it, and brought home the
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 175 
 
 heinous fact to brood over. It was a pal- 
 pable lie, turn it over as she might. From 
 henceforth she was on the watch — her blind 
 trust, once shaken, could never be restored. 
 She watched her Ladyship mutely, and con- 
 stantly caught her tripping. The great 
 good goddess was shivered to fragments, 
 and a false, sly old woman substituted in 
 its place. Ellen gradually drew off, and at 
 last was a stranger to her Ladyship among 
 the rest; still the hamper used to come 
 directed to Surgeon Heath, and little pre- 
 sents to her she knew not how to refuse and 
 return. 
 
 She had grown to 'be company to the 
 Surgeon. He was not friendless then ; and 
 further, she had a most invincible belief in 
 his honesty and honour. 
 
 She was near him ever, — thinking, read- 
 ing, and housekeeping; full of quaint dry 
 fun when no critic was by ; apt to comfort 
 when she had the clue of his sorrow. She 
 knew about three people in the world, and 
 him far the best of the three. So she had 
 grown to be merry good company to him.
 
 167 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 They disagreed on one subject so totally 
 that Surgeon Heath was never the one to 
 call it up. 
 
 Ellen was sore about his familiarity with 
 her Ladyship — she had a sort of instinctive 
 distrust of it. 
 
 " I'm jealous you should throw away so 
 much good friendship upon lier" said Ellen, 
 with offensive emphasis. 
 
 Surgeon Heath reminded her of her Lady- 
 ship's constant kindness and generosity. 
 
 " We've not earned it from her, Jem ; 
 why don't she keep it for her own family? " 
 
 " There's a plea against gratitude, 
 Ellen!" 
 
 " Pray don't go there to-day." 
 
 u There's no need to-day." 
 
 " Is there ever any need?" 
 
 " Just when there's no need of one is the 
 jolly time for a visit, Ellen. Did you ever 
 know that?" 
 
 "Is there ever any need of you?" she 
 repeated. 
 
 " When a lady is unwell, Ellen, you'll 
 give her leave to call her doctor ; and Lady 
 Bunbury is very frequently unwell."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 177 
 
 " What's the matter with her?" 
 
 " My friend — my young friend — my very 
 
 young friend — you're driving me to the 
 
 wall." 
 
 " I wish I could keep your friend — your 
 
 old friend — your very old friend — at the 
 
 other side of it then !" 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 CHANGED SINCE THEN. 
 " I would our hands had never met." — Hood. 
 
 A false position is peculiarly dangerous to 
 an honest man. Honesty is itself a seven- 
 fold shield, from which vulgar slanders 
 glance ; but a sly shaft from behind will 
 often fix in the undefended back; and it 
 shall be so gratifying to his acquaintance 
 to convince themselves that he is no better 
 than the multitude, that he will have little 
 aid from them. 
 
 Guilt makes the rogue suspicious and 
 sensitive to repel the slightest breath of 
 imputation ; but poor stupid Kectitude often 
 plods on with the label of thief upon his 
 back, his acquaintances' too polite to ques-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 179 
 
 tion him, and himself too high-mettled to 
 suspect. 
 
 Uncharitable constructions had, as we 
 are aware, been put upon Heath's assiduous 
 attendance upon her Ladyship ; and we are 
 bound to set him right with our readers, 
 lest they may be tainted with like sus- 
 picion. 
 
 Her Ladyship had been a generous friend 
 to Surgeon Heath, and had shown him for the 
 last ten years kindness steady and genuine, 
 whilst he, being a poor man, found genuine 
 kindness to be very rare and pleasant. 
 Whatever the old lady might appear to 
 others, to him she was uniformly hearty and 
 sympathising. She had a troublesome here- 
 ditary complaint — a thorn in the flesh — 
 which plagued her vanity, and she kept it 
 profoundly secret from all but her medical 
 adviser. Her nerves also were engaged by 
 its presence, and she was liable to anxious 
 fits. She fancied that much benefit had 
 accrued to her by Heath's professional at- 
 tendance ; and it must be confessed she 
 liked his society as something fresh, simple, 
 
 N 2
 
 180 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 upright. Old cunning natures often like 
 such contact; and they commune with it 
 and approach to it their miserable veneer 
 as a kindred surface, sound throughout, 
 and delude themselves into the flattering 
 notion that they are akin. Heath felt she 
 had every claim upon his attendance and 
 society, and came whenever she required him. 
 We must do Kim the justice to say that he 
 was in the frequent habit of refusing a fee 
 on many of the trivial occasions upon which 
 he attended her ; but then his treatment of 
 her as a doctor was bond fide treatment, 
 and he often accepted it in his need, and was 
 little to blame — his position, if we must 
 confess it, made him a little fond of the 
 pounds. 
 
 Lady Bunbury's ailment was a secret ; her 
 vanity was very sore about it, and of course 
 her doctor's lips were strictly sealed. But 
 there is no secret in it now. 
 
 Surgeon Heath's friends then drew up a 
 strong plausible case against him, whilst 
 the offender was out of court. 
 
 One morning he was approaching the
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 181 
 
 Club House in Lower Weston, when he 
 saw three gentlemen talking on the steps. 
 One, a tall figure, partly turned away. He 
 knew it in a moment to be Mr. Brom's. 
 Well and precisely dressed was his friend, 
 and he was talking to a member for the 
 county, and to old Lord Penguin. Four 
 years had passed now since these old friends 
 had begun to cool. 
 
 Heath felt a sudden genial impulse; he 
 forgot the distinguished company. 
 
 " I've not seen him this year or more. 
 He takes it unkindly that I have not called. 
 I'll put an end to this folly." 
 
 Oblivious of the distinguished company, 
 lie walked straight on close to the railing, 
 his frankest gaze upon his friend's face. 
 Mr. Brum was talking. He chatted on un- 
 interruptedly as James Heath approached. 
 It was assuredly not the best tact on the 
 Surgeon's part, — he is in his shooting jacket, 
 a little out at elbows, — to select such a 
 moment for his meeting, but hearty feeling 
 has no law. Up came James Heath, smiling 
 in his old friend's face. Mr. Brom could 
 
 K 3
 
 182 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 not choose but see him, yet his eye was 
 like steel, and turned away ; its gaze dropped 
 on the flags, or rose to the windows, or 
 fixed on his companions, but not a glance 
 was there for James lleath. He passed 
 hastily on with trembling hand thrust into 
 the pocket of his coat. He had forgotten 
 they were in different spheres. What has 
 the man of wealth and station to do with a 
 poor country surgeon, out at the elbows too? 
 Ah ! that debt, that crushing obligation to 
 one who despised him ! It was peine forte 
 et dure upon his heart. 
 
 He must begin for the twentieth time to 
 hoard money solicitously, striving with the 
 rigours of poverty; he must take a lesson 
 from Ellen's self-sacrifice and care. It was 
 hard for an unpopular country surgeon to 
 save a hundred pounds, though the sum is 
 such a trifle that it would scarce purchase a 
 black eye in the ring, or buy the tail of my 
 Lord's horse. No sooner had he saved a few 
 guineas than the hand of the dun was on the 
 knocker as if he had smelt it out. He is no 
 free man till this debt be. paid off. Humbled
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 183 
 
 and sickened he felt as if a sparrow could 
 bully him. " The day will come, the day 
 will come," he used to mutter " when I may 
 look in his face and say we are strangers; " 
 yet sometimes too, when anger had softened, 
 and with some book or scene came me- 
 mories of days of healthy friendship drift- 
 ing over him, kind acts, gay laugh, generous 
 hand-grip, — the wish might shift for a 
 moment into, " Would that the day were 
 come when I may look in his face and say 
 we are friends." 
 
 It is a mere link of gossamer, I fear, 
 which joins Pylades and Orestes. 
 
 He went through his irksome duties in a 
 fluttered distrait mood. Still angry, he 
 returned home, continually recalling the 
 scene in imagination, and thinking how, if 
 only he could have anticipated the slight, 
 he might have passed by cold and smiling ; 
 or, sweeter still, have tossed the aristocrat 
 a gay good morning, and so have saved 
 himself this rankle. 
 
 During tea he was so silent that Ellen 
 questioned him, and watched him; he 
 
 N 4
 
 184 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 caught her eye upon him, and he rose, and 
 going round, stood on the rug close beside 
 her. 
 
 Her opinion of him had taken a sudden 
 importance in his eyes. 
 
 u Ellen, we were talking the other day 
 of Lady Bunbury. Do you think the worse 
 of me because I frequent her house?" 
 
 Ellen smiled, saucily. 
 
 u Do not joke about it ; tell me the truth, 
 as you always do. Come! you think my 
 friendship with her has a mean motive? 
 Now, then, out with it ! " 
 
 Her face grew grave and startled. 
 
 "Indeed, I do not, Jemmy. Mean?" 
 
 " Then what do you think of it? You 
 attacked me two days ago about it. Come, 
 you're not afraid of me." 
 
 " Far from it, Jem. Well, then, / don't 
 like her, and I choose you to dislike what 
 I do — that's reasonable, ain't it." 
 
 " That's all?" 
 
 " All I know about it." 
 
 u Bravo ! he cried, with a sudden zeal 
 for her and her kind, pretty look, now
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 185 
 
 womanly. He wound a supple hand in 
 each of his own. 
 
 " Bravo ! you're my friend against all 
 the world." 
 
 " All right, Jem; I'll let you fight them 
 though." 
 
 He talked freely, and laughed loudly, 
 as was his wont. James Heath was a trifle 
 boisterous when his spirits got up. False 
 friends and the cold world faded in the 
 far background now he was withe Ellen 
 at home. 
 
 He took her into confidence, and told 
 her of the long course of estrangement which 
 had been going on for years. Before this 
 evening, she had been scarcely aware of 
 its existence, though she had often heard 
 from him a grateful history of the old 
 delicate obligation, and felt an awed interest 
 in Mr. Brom, quite distinct from a wish to 
 know him. Now the Surgeon opened his 
 feelings to her; his anger and his regret 
 at this cruel repulse. 
 
 " You must pay him, Jamie," she said, 
 with emphasis.
 
 186 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 "Easy said, Ellen; we grow currants 
 and beans, but we can't raise the sove- 
 reigns." 
 
 " And what shall we do about all the 
 debts we have onus?" she said, despondingly 
 — " two hundred pounds, Jemmy, two hun- 
 dred pounds in debt." 
 
 About half an hour after, she murmured, 
 
 u What a pity ; you two ought to be such 
 friends. I'm so very sorry for this, Jamie, 
 but you must pay him." 
 
 " We can't raise the gold crop, Ellen." 
 
 u Let's take a lodger, she exclaimed." 
 The suggestion suddenly occurred to her. 
 u The house is too big for us ; we'll hunt 
 away the ghosts." 
 
 " Not a bad thought, Ellen, we must 
 think of it ; why did it never occur to us 
 before?" 
 
 Heath caught up the suggestion, ex- 
 amined all its possibilities, ranged its ob- 
 jections against its advantages, and found 
 the latter to be in the majority ; but Ellen 
 grew alarmed at the boldness of her pro- 
 posal ; scared at her own bravery, she began
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 187 
 
 to draw back, she had perhaps a truer in- 
 stinct than he of the chill a strange pre- 
 sence gives to home. It is like an untuned 
 string in a melody. But he talked her round 
 to him : " If we dislike her we may live 
 apart. The house is large and we shall 
 leave her to the ghosts." 
 
 The next day he advertised in several 
 papers, offering a comfortable home for a 
 stranger. To those who knew the mean- 
 ing of that household word home, it might 
 seem not more unwise to advertise heart 
 and hand. 
 
 Now, thought James Heath, he shall be 
 paid at last. I can lift myself from the 
 dirt again and look him in the face. May 
 be, whispered the haunting wish, may be 
 we may be friends once more ; he was once 
 a dear true friend of mine. u God be with 
 that day ! " muttered he, with that little 
 melancholy sound of regret made by the 
 palate of the mouth. 
 
 A strong and peculiar interest in Mr. 
 Brom had swayed him for some time, dis- 
 tinct from, yet impassioned by, the dormant
 
 188 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 friendship. It gave him a shy, proud re- 
 luctance to advance. 
 
 In his return from the town by night, 
 he used often to go some little distance out 
 of his way to pass Mr. Brum's house by my 
 Lord's gate, and he used to linger in passing 
 — sometimes stand or pace up and down 
 for a few moments, gazing up at a lighted 
 window. On the blind was projected a 
 man's bent figure, sunk chest, ghostly pen at 
 its toil. There was a female figure too, 
 which used to move softly about the room, 
 or sit as if transcribing. Heath recognised 
 it as Mrs. Brom's, and fancied how she toiled 
 for and cheered this lonely student. He, 
 an indolent man, compared himself and his 
 progress with his schoolfellow's — the grave, 
 onward purpose ever since ; the uncompro- 
 mising labour and concentrated vigour, un- 
 intelligible to him, he compared with his 
 own desultory struggles. He wondered, 
 almost envied, and felt stimulated to 
 aimless efforts; but still came the dull 
 round of drugging the parish, and vacci- 
 nating baby furies — nothing else, if we
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 189 
 
 except, indeed, some foolish fancy-work in 
 the shape of a drama. 
 
 Mr. Brom had come "to be heard of." 
 He had attracted notice, first by a vehe- 
 ment political pamphlet, entitled " Negative 
 Genius," immediately provoked by the pre- 
 judice and ridicule which harassed the 
 Liverpool and Manchester Railway Bill in 
 its passage through the House, and directed 
 against that class who owe their distinc- 
 tion to their genius for demolition, and who 
 employ all the force of their intellect, not 
 to create, but to destroy ; not to suggest a 
 means, but to invent a brilliant difficulty ; 
 who, no sooner does some great coming 
 blessing to mankind lift its brow in the 
 House, than they scheme, reason, wear out 
 the night in intellectual battle to beat it 
 down. " Often do they succeed," saith the 
 pamphlet; "for stuttering science can 
 hardly outface such hail-storms of rhetoric." 
 
 High literary emolument was at Mr. 
 Brom's command now. He had entered 
 the war of politics with a vehement honesty 
 of pen, and now it leaked out in the
 
 190 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 corners of journals and in the gossip of 
 litterati that Mr. Brom was compiling a 
 history, under the title of " Our English 
 Rulers," which was likely to supply a great 
 want in our literature. 
 
 Heath had heard all this, and it humbled 
 him. He was a poor country surgeon, out 
 of society, without a prospect, all his sym- 
 pathies at jangle with the world. His com- 
 rade was sought and honoured, had mixed 
 in the battle, and struck some downright 
 blows, as became a man, for which Heath 
 held him in respect. 
 
 M I'll avoid him. I feel we are nothing 
 to one another, and never can be. He 
 suspects me and despises me — let him." 
 These were the words of pride ; but as he 
 walked home by night he had temptings to 
 pass by that ivied window, and see what 
 was that labour like, which won the long 
 cause at last. 
 
 He could no longer bring himself to 
 make an advance; but in his secret heart 
 — that privy council, whose debatings and 
 fiats we can hardly note ourselves — he
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 191 
 
 began to long for an advance — such as he 
 might receive from Mr. Brom. He would 
 fain know him as an equal again — all scores 
 paid. This desire was fitful, and unrecog- 
 nised by any overt calculations; but he 
 used to look up the road, or round the 
 church, or across the meadow walk, as if 
 he expected to see Mr. Brom's figure com- 
 ing up to meet him, or his eye upon him 
 kindly again. 
 
 Many months might elapse between a 
 chance glimpse, but still the secret desire 
 was there smouldering for all his pride. 
 
 Ellen shared in his interest in Mr. Brom. 
 Hers was an awed girlish wonder rather. 
 From her ignorance of public men he seemed 
 to her in the quiet country, far larger and 
 greater than he was. She showed great 
 curiosity about him, which Heath en- 
 couraged, because the subject was so much 
 in his thoughts too. He used to read her 
 portions of Mr. Brom's writings, or re- 
 viewers' comments upon his pamphlets, 
 prophesying great things of their author, 
 and she would listen with wide eyes, for
 
 192 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 she had seen this man whom the nation 
 knew. 
 
 Once, when they were talking of him, 
 Heath told her of those nightly glimpses he 
 had ; how John Brom and his mother used 
 to work from evening far into the morning, 
 with such lofty patience, she transcribing 
 and cheering him on to the end, frail in 
 body, but so strong in love. Some touch of 
 the nobleness of this fellowship rose in 
 Ellen's mind, and her eyes watered up. 
 There is such pathos in a noble trait She 
 seemed to ponder over it; and as she sat 
 at the piano in the dark hour before tea, 
 she played to herself softly the grand air, 
 and hummed the grand words of Beranger, 
 
 " On parlera de sa gloire." 
 
 James Heath had then the clue to her 
 meditations. He too was ambitious; he too 
 would be heard of. Perhaps he too might 
 have one who would nobly share his toil. 
 
 Ellen began to harp on Heath's own 
 longing.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 193 
 
 " Jamie, we must pay him and Aunt 
 Bell off, first of them all. When will this 
 weary lodger come; a dreary house to 
 tempt her, and a thrifty one, Jamie, ain't 
 it?" 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 STRANGERS BY THE HEARTH. 
 
 Ellen Tern, with a very youthful mind, 
 possessed a poise of character which was 
 derived from the peculiar circumstances 
 which surrounded her. 
 
 There are mute sufferings of the mind — 
 anti-dramatic — which pen can never tell, 
 which would suit neither biographer nor 
 reader, as pastime, to examine. The fresh 
 young mind chained to the galleys of debt 
 and poverty is a melancholy theme, and 
 offers no fine situations. The cold pinch 
 of petty economy, that north wind upon 
 the flowing heart, freezing down its glad- 
 ness, is pitiful enough, but fatal to the 
 poetical. I wish that not many who read 
 this page may feel the reality of such a
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 195 
 
 life. The hand and heart whose hourly 
 impulse is to give — to overflow the measure 
 — momently checked and thrown back by 
 narrow rules of duty, are hand and heart 
 of a heroine; and such heroines are as 
 plenty among women as are violets in the 
 wood, but they don't catch the eye. 
 
 The son of Solomon couched his prayer 
 well when he asked for that poise between 
 the pain and the danger — poverty and 
 riches. 
 
 "When will this weary lodger come, 
 Jamie, to our great dismal house?" she 
 would say, as each day he returned from 
 town, and brought no tidings. 
 
 At length he laid an open letter before 
 her, which made her face light up. 
 
 "Joy," she cried; we've caught the 
 weary lodger at last, and two of them ! " 
 
 The letter was, indeed, an answer to the 
 advertisement. A respectable old lady and 
 her niece seemed to like the promise of the 
 place, and were bent on inquiries. 
 
 Heath lost no time in calling upon them, 
 and easily concluded with them. One 
 o 2
 
 19() NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 thing clouded his satisfaction in an arrange- 
 ment so obviously advantageous. It was 
 upon the recommendation of John Brom 
 that the old lady had applied. 
 
 Ellen viewed it in another light. " Grati- 
 tude," said she, u is a pleasant thing." 
 
 As the day came on for the arrival of 
 their new lodgers, who had previously called 
 and been shown their apartments by the 
 Surgeon, Ellen's shyness began to over- 
 power her. She had shut herself into her 
 room when they came, and heard the voices 
 with distress and misgiving. She obtained 
 minute accounts of both the strangers 
 from Jamie, their dress, their expressions, 
 their remarks. The eldest, it appeared, 
 was a grave and silent old lady, dressed in 
 seemly black silk; but her niece was a 
 pretty, talkative girl, who seemed inclined 
 to be friendly. 
 
 " How was she dressed?" said Ellen. 
 
 Heath endeavoured to satisfy her, but 
 showed such an ignorance of the stuffs and 
 modes which women love that he got 
 laughed at.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 197 
 
 Ellen herself was dressed in coarse grey 
 winsey, but the quiet taste in shape and 
 bne, the snowy little collar and wristbands, 
 the small striped apron, and the bonny 
 lace, put silks and ornaments from one's 
 mind. 
 
 " I think," said Ellen, " I shall keep quite 
 apart from them." 
 
 When these lodgers were fairly come and 
 established in the house, their presence did 
 not seem so formidable. The old lady was 
 a quiet body who seldom left her room; 
 but her niece proved to be a very sociable 
 animal, and immediately voted herself one 
 of the family. Ellen was sitting in the 
 parlour, arranging a large bowl of cow- 
 slips and heather, when a knock fell on the 
 door, and at her faint invitation to enter, 
 there tripped in a buxom black-eyed young 
 lady, all smiles. Ellen fumbled with the 
 flowers, and faltered a question whether 
 she was comfortable in her rooms. The 
 stranger was charmed with them, and only 
 needed a little society to enliven her; 
 cold society she found poor Ellen, who 
 
 o 3
 
 198 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 got bewildered with the volley of questions 
 and the dash and rapidity of her chat. 
 
 When the Surgeon came in upon them 
 in the evening, he found his comrade much 
 distressed, and a swarm of beheaded cow- 
 slips on her lap and skirt. He rightly 
 interpreted the glance of relief at his 
 entrance, and the supplicating look which 
 followed him as he crossed the room ; so he 
 hastened to entertain their fair guest to 
 the best of his ability; he found it a too 
 easy task, for she entertained herself, out- 
 stripping his slow tongue with flippancies 
 and good-natured sallies, quite too free for 
 the measure of their acquaintance. Jn 
 fact, she seemed to take a great fancy to 
 him. She found one subject upon which 
 he cared to converse, and Ellen to listen, 
 viz. "her friend" Mr. Brom. She had known 
 him well in Manchester, where her aunt 
 had opened large reading rooms, and was 
 the proprietress of a paper till her health 
 began to fail. Some leading articles Mr. 
 Brom had contributed were the making of 
 the paper, and neither she nor her aunt
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 199 
 
 could forget it to him. It was said he never 
 dined out in London, and went to no par- 
 ties ; that was the worst she knew of him, 
 but that was bad enough. " He is so hand- 
 some," she said, and added, in a whisper to 
 Ellen, u not so handsome, though, as a friend 
 of ours," meaning the Surgeon. " What 
 handsome eyes ! What a beautiful forehead ! 
 
 Heath was without flirt-craft; he was 
 civil and literal in his manner and words ; 
 she laid siege to him for some days to know 
 him, but still found his confidence double- 
 barred, though he seemed to lend himself to 
 her flattering assiduities, not knowing how 
 to dispose of them. She abandoned Ellen 
 entirely for him; and I fancy there was a 
 vein of mischief in it all. 
 
 One evening, a frosty April evening, — 
 lines of gold brocade was the sunset behind 
 the poplars, — she led them out into the 
 meadows and monopolised Heath's com- 
 pany with a bustling selfishness, so that 
 Ellen lagged behind. She made him carry 
 her wide hat as she filled it with cowslips, 
 and she bantered him gaily on his gravity 
 
 o 4
 
 200 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 till he smiled abstractedly, or answered 
 wide of the point. She would have him 
 cut her initials on the old poplars, and 
 hinted to him to place his own below. But 
 he was stupid or averse; so she led him 
 rambling on, in total ignorance of the man 
 and his nature, and secure in her conquest. 
 
 The melancholy Ellen lagged behind 
 them, looking at the gay sunset with 
 watery vision. 
 
 " We must not leave Ellen behind," said 
 the Surgeon, breaking into the midst of 
 Mary Wright's chatterings. He stood still; 
 but she strolled on with a toss, leaving 
 her hat in his hands. Ellen came up 
 close to him, eyes on the ground. 
 
 " Won't you walk beside me? Won't you 
 talk to me, Jamie?" 
 
 The fact was plain, poor little Ellen was 
 jealous. " There's no one else worth a 
 word," laughed he, " none, that I know." 
 He kept by her, and talked to her all the 
 way, till she smiled blithely. When he 
 returned, he did not even notice Mary 
 Wright's huff.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 201 
 
 From this evening forth he conducted 
 himself to her with civil courtesy; listen- 
 ing to her and answering her, but address- 
 ing all voluntary conversation to Ellen. 
 Mary Wright was repulsed, and her wounded 
 vanity never forgave it to him. 
 
 She began to know Ellen better, and 
 gradually turned all her seductions upon 
 her. She was Ellen's opposite in every- 
 thing. She was bold, vivacious, and talk- 
 ative; and now that she had raised her 
 offensive siege to the Surgeon's affections 
 Ellen began to admire those qualities 
 mightily. As constant intercourse dis- 
 pelled the shyness of her nature towards 
 her new companion, she began to wonder 
 at and admire them daily. It was like 
 reading a pleasant random book. Mary's 
 professions were very plausible, and she 
 gave herself a very high character by hints 
 dropped now and then. It was Ellen's 
 nature to believe, till once she found her- 
 self deceived; so she gave Mary full credit 
 for generosity, wisdom, and truth. They 
 became tolerable companions, and Surgeon
 
 202 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Heath, who had no reason to dislike, or even 
 disapprove, was glad to find that his poor 
 solitary bird had found such pleasant com- 
 pany in all her care and solitude.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 203 
 
 CHAP XIX. 
 
 A FREE MAN. 
 
 James Heath sits like a miser at his desk 
 counting a pile of money. He lays note 
 after note, sovereign after sovereign, little 
 rolls after rolls of silver, upon an old frag- 
 ment of paper, upon which are the words 
 scrawled legibly, "From the Planet 
 Jupiter." 
 
 " Eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety," he 
 muttered. " Where will the last ten come 
 from ? This last ten will kill the camel." 
 
 The money was derived from small sales, 
 fees, and the lodgers' payment in advance. 
 " If the vultures scented my store," he con- 
 tinued, u what a pounce we'd have — ninety 
 pounds ! " 
 
 A hand came over his shoulder like the
 
 204 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 flight of a white dove, and dropped a sove- 
 reign on the heap, and another, and another, 
 while a woman's voice took up the count, 
 " ninety-one, ninety-five, one hundred." He 
 needed not to look round, for he knew it was 
 Ellen. 
 
 " How did you get the money, Ellen?" 
 said he, suppressing his surprise. 
 
 " Borrowed," she said, simply. 
 
 He separated her contribution, hastily, 
 and returned it to her reluctant hand. 
 
 u Why won't you have it, Jem? Mary 
 has been very kind ; I have partly told her 
 of my position ; don't start ; not one word of 
 yours; and she offered me — forced on me 
 — a loan. 
 
 " Would you sell your peace for ten 
 pounds?" 
 
 She looked at him perplexed. 
 
 u With my example before your eyes, of 
 five years' suffering and degradation, will 
 you run into the same trap?" 
 
 "I think gratitude is a pleasant thing, 
 Jem. Here, take the money ; you shall be 
 only my debtor for it, arid go clear your debt 
 to your friend." She paused and added
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 205 
 
 earnestly, "Have you heard it said that 
 Mr. Brom is in difficulties? I have been 
 told so." 
 
 She laid down the money and left him ; 
 an hour or so after she met him in the 
 hall, with a keen excitement in his eye and 
 a hurried step. 
 
 " You are going to him, I see," she said. 
 " Mind you remember every word that 
 passes for me. 'Tis a great day, Jem." 
 
 He hurried out in the sunshine; his 
 heart beating thickly. He went up the 
 road with fast, lusty strides, like a negro 
 trying the stretch of his limbs after the 
 chain has been struck off. 
 
 Fancy anticipated the scene; first the 
 steel-cold regards — the look he associated 
 with him for years ; then the surprise as the 
 undemanded debt was paid to the last 
 penny; and then the dawn of the kind 
 smile, the frank words which should dispel 
 the misconstructions of years. 
 
 He is at the house he has passed so often 
 thoughtfully ; — beneath the window, so 
 familiar to him only from without. He had 
 often planned this occasion, whenever it
 
 206 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 should arrive, as the ripe moment to close 
 the unkindly breach, but the years slipped on. 
 Now he is master of the longed-for occasion. 
 He gave a loud, confident knock, uncon- 
 scious in his suppressed excitement of its 
 loudness. It brought the servant skipping 
 to the door. 
 
 "Mr. Brom at home?" 
 
 u Not at home, Sir." 
 
 Heath's bold countenance fell. 
 
 "Where is he, then?" 
 
 "Gone out, Sir." 
 
 " It is early for him to be out. I have 
 
 particular business with him." 
 
 "Perhaps you could leave it with me, 
 Sir." 
 
 Heath thought of the times when he 
 could enter like a brother, and a momen- 
 tary damp fell over him. 
 
 " Your master is at home," he said, 
 resolutely. " Go up to him, and say that 
 Surgeon Heath would see him for a few 
 moments." 
 
 " He is out, Sir, I told you. I gave him 
 his 'at arf an hour ago.".
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 207 
 
 u Go up to him; he is at home." 
 
 "I'll see, Sir; not sure, Sir. Please walk 
 into the parlour." 
 
 Heath entered the front room and waited ; 
 he looked at the prints hanging around, 
 without taking in their meaning; he 
 fidgeted among the books. Suddenly he 
 bethought himself he was under an un- 
 seemly excitement ; he took up a magazine, 
 and strove to fix his thoughts upon it, 
 when he heard a light-slippered foot com- 
 ing down stairs ; and at the sound all his 
 excitement rushed over him again. John 
 Brom came in — not sternly, not warmly, 
 only cold, courteous, and surprised. 
 
 Heath hastened to explain his visit. He 
 felt it could not be told too soon. 
 
 "I've been a debtor to you five years, 
 John. There's your money, generously 
 lent to me when we were better friends." 
 He laid down the gold and notes with more 
 energy than was needed. 
 
 Mr. Brom stared at him, puzzled. 
 
 "What are you alluding to, Heath?" 
 said he, offering him a cold hand.
 
 208 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " There lies my debt to you ; it's a late 
 quittance, but that was not the fault of 
 wishing." 
 
 " This money is not mine." 
 
 "It is yours," replied Heath, emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 " Oh, take up your money, Doctor ; I 
 know nothing of it." 
 
 " I will remind you. I believe you great 
 men easily forget your favours to the poor. 
 Five years ago, when I was in a very great 
 emergency, you sent me a hundred pounds, 
 and I accepted the loan, because we were 
 like brothers then." 
 
 " I remember your telling me some such 
 occurrence, but surely I never told you it 
 was I who sent it." 
 
 " You implied it — you implied it. This 
 will not do," said Heath, balked unexpect- 
 edly; " there lies your money." 
 
 " My dear Heath, there's no need of ex- 
 citement. I have absolutely nothing to do 
 with your money or debts. I needn't say, 
 I hope, that I wish you very well." He 
 changed the subject to some topic of the 
 newspapers, acting the cold host.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 209 
 
 James Heath laid a firm grasp on the 
 back of a chair, and confronted him. 
 
 " You will not tell me a falsehood. I 
 know that whether you lent me that money 
 or not, you certainly allowed me to think it 
 came from you. I confess to you the im- 
 pression has become oppressive — intolerable. 
 Now that we are cold strangers," he said, 
 excitedly, " I will not live a day your 
 debtor. I have a right to an answer." 
 
 " An answer to what?" 
 
 " Did you, or did you not, send me that 
 amount anonymously five years ago?" 
 
 u I really cannot burden my memory," 
 said Mr. Brom. u Pray take up your 
 money; the family you support can ill 
 afford its loss." 
 
 " The circumstance is not to be for- 
 gotten," blustered Heath ; " you accepted 
 some worthless parchments, or the like 
 — you cannot forget. I tell you, John 
 Brom, you don't forget." 
 
 "Pardon me, this is a little Quixotic, 
 Heath. Whenever I can do myself the 
 
 vol. i. p
 
 210 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 pleasure of being of service to you I shall 
 be delighted to hear from you." 
 
 " Wait for that. Wait till you hear from 
 me — till you do me a service again," said 
 Heath, bitterly. 
 
 u Take up your money ; / will not receive 
 it." 
 
 " Then you would force me to remain under 
 an obligation which I tell you is galling to 
 me," said Heath, sternly; "you like the 
 superiority it gives you." 
 
 Mr. Brom smiled. " You are making 
 wild charges," said he. 
 
 " I'm clear of you for ever," replied 
 James Heath. " Throw that money on the 
 road if you like." He took up his hat and 
 made to the door, then he turned. u I had 
 not expected much from this intrusion. No 
 matter now what I expected; you've made 
 me regret our hands ever crossed, and I 
 will confess to you I never regretted it till 
 now." 
 
 " It seems I've wronged you," smiled Mr. 
 Brom. " If we'd an umpire here he'd be a 
 little perplexed to tell how, as the world
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 211 
 
 goes. But you shall have an answer to 
 your question. I did send the anonymous 
 enclosure, which it appears has given you 
 so much subsequent pain. The old Doctor 
 and his little girl were in imminent debt, 
 I believe, and I'd some interest in them. 
 Let the obligation sit light on you. Good 
 day." 
 
 Heath advanced on him warmly. 
 
 " Let us part friends." 
 
 Mr. Brom took his hand. 
 
 " I could not quarrel with one who is so 
 very attentive to a member of my family. 
 My mother and I are under very heavy 
 obligations to you." 
 
 Heath was repulsed ; the smile faded from 
 his face. He went away with this cold 
 mock in his ear. 
 
 l- '2
 
 212 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 RINGING THE METAL. 
 
 One morning he received a summons from 
 her Ladyship, who was unwell, or out of 
 sorts, or lonely, or all together ; and having 
 made his call, and lunched with her, he was 
 on the return, and had just closed the hall 
 door, when he saw Mr. Brom sauntering up 
 the road. He could have avoided him, but 
 he never even contemplated it. Let Mr. 
 Brom leave his path if he chose. He felt 
 in a gay, careless mood — the insult of yes- 
 terday tingling in his blood the while. 
 Cheerfully came James Heath striding down 
 the gravel walk. Mr. Brom's eye was upon 
 him this time, at least. There is no doubt 
 he will stop and speak to-day. 
 
 Gaily careless, Heath met him. Mr. 
 Brom reflected it, but with a truer grace.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 213 
 
 " Well, Doctor, how is your patient to- 
 day?" 
 
 " Pretty well, pretty well." 
 
 " A friendly visit then, I suppose," 
 fleered Mr. Brom, turning back with him, 
 " mere morning call? " 
 
 Surgeon Heath drew his hand from his 
 pocket and filliped a sovereign into the 
 air. 
 
 " Putting the old lady into the crucible, 
 Doctor? Quite right!" 
 
 Surgeon Heath tramped on, switching at 
 the woodbriar that strayed from the hedge- 
 row. 
 
 " I hope, my dear fellow, you'll find 
 many a golden goose in your practice, and 
 take care, don't kill 'em off too soon." 
 
 Heath laughed good-humouredly. 
 
 " Now will you tell me what is her Lady- 
 ship's complaint?" 
 
 " Why, Sir," said Heath, with the same 
 good-tempered manner, " if you were qua- 
 lified by a diploma to consult with me I 
 might answer your question, or if you had 
 me on the green table I should do so." 
 
 p 3
 
 214 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Well, if you kill your goose honestly, 
 and in the way of legitimate practice, I 
 don't expect to see you there. Now, surely, 
 as a solicitous relation, I've a right to ask 
 was the case urgent?" 
 
 "Well, no." 
 - " Can you allow her chicken broth, eh?" 
 
 u I've just lunched with her on cold 
 lamb." 
 
 u I see. Complaint, the wolf in the 
 stomach, and you sagaciously order cold 
 lamb ; why on earth, man, don't you call in 
 Sloperton's aid?" 
 
 " Stop this silly catechism ; can't you say 
 out manfully what you are beating about? 
 I'll bear it much better," said Heath, with 
 sudden anger. 
 
 " Come, I will, Jemmy," said Mr. Brom, 
 loosely taking his arm. u Of course it's no 
 affair of mine, I speak out of my old regard 
 to you, and make what use of my candour 
 you please. There are rumours going 
 about that James Heath is humouring a 
 certain wealthy old lady in her whims, and 
 ministering to her sick fancies, and trading
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 215 
 
 on them, by Jove ! It pains your friends, 
 you know, to hear such reports, and yet 
 not know exactly what to say. I'm not 
 the man for over-nicety in professional 
 practice. If you made your formal visit once 
 a month, felt her pulse, or raked her phy- 
 sique, all fair, and you could pocket your 
 lawful fee, and I defy any one to talk. I'll 
 tell you what it is, Jemmy, I'd play into 
 your hands myself." 
 
 Surgeon Heath slew a thistle with his 
 stick. 
 
 " When I permit you to play into my 
 hands, John Brom, then, and not till then, 
 I'll begin to fear gossip. What should be- 
 come of us if we spent our time dodging 
 gossip like a raw recruit who ducks at 
 every coming shot. Gossip does little harm 
 to one whilst it's confined to strangers. It 
 hits hard enough when a friend directs it." 
 
 "Well, then, never mind strangers, ac- 
 quit yourself to your friend." 
 
 " I'll do it so." He withdrew his arm 
 roughly, and strode angrily on. 
 
 p 4
 
 216 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 "Heath! don't quarrel," said Mr. Brom, 
 " we're not come to that, I hope." 
 
 Heath wheeled round. 
 
 " I'm a fool; come, shake hands. I have 
 been under obligations to you, John, but 
 don't, pray dorit, make me regret it so 
 bitterly." 
 
 They shook hands coldly enough. 
 
 " You are angry," said Mr. Brom. 
 
 "I am a little heated; take a friendly 
 hint, do not push my temper too hard, for 
 I can't always command it." 
 
 " My dear fellow, you're a lamb." 
 
 Both these men were in a passion ; but 
 they showed it in different ways, and were 
 under great restraint. Had they been Ota- 
 heitans I doubt but they'd have had their 
 knives at one another's throats. 
 
 They walked along in silence, and Mr. 
 Brom quickly cooled. It seemed to him 
 that Heath's anger had been honest anger; 
 his manner seemed to ring true. A fearless 
 high-mettled carriage will influence the 
 shrewdest of us whilst in presence with us, 
 though a few moments' reflection, when the
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 217 
 
 spell is withdrawn, may bring back all our 
 scepticism. Restless to know the truth on 
 such a question, Mr. Brom resolved to test 
 his companion by a dashing course, yet one 
 which would not hurt his own pride. 
 
 " Jemmy," he said, with a careless laugh, 
 " I daresay you imagined I was nearest of 
 kin to her Ladyship and heir presumptive." 
 
 " I did, and do." 
 
 " Well, you know something of the old 
 lady's condition. Did you know she has a 
 baby?" 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 " The young Foundling Hospital, man, 
 which has for sponsor a venerable dean and 
 worshipful high-sheriff." 
 
 Heath treated the implied inference with 
 contempt. 
 
 "Ah! but what can you know?" con- 
 tinued Mr. Brom. "All the neighbour- 
 hood know that these two gentlemen are 
 getting round the foolish old woman, flat- 
 tering her, singing her money out of her 
 pocket — d — ned rogues, both ! I've obliged 
 these gentlemen a hundred times. They
 
 218 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 are under positive obligations to me. So 
 they try, of course, to put a foot on my 
 breast; that's the rule, Sir — that's the way 
 of the world. I'll tell you this, Heath," 
 said Mr. Brom, with wondrous indignation, 
 " the social position of these two men 
 cannot save them from being silky scoun- 
 drels ! " he cried, pounding away with his 
 arm — "contemptible toadies, whom every 
 honest man ought to cut, and expose." 
 
 You see, my reader, I hope, that the 
 dean and high- sheriff were mere stalking- 
 horses to Mr. Brom, who was pounding 
 away at James Heath under cover. Let 
 the galled jade wince if her withers be 
 wrung. 
 
 " If it be so, they're contemptible scoun- 
 drels both I " said Heath, with a full equiva- 
 lent of emphasis. 
 
 Mr. Brom looked in his companion's 
 honest eyes for a second. He proceeded in 
 a softened tone : 
 
 * Now, Jemmy, we used to be confidants 
 as boys ; let's be so as men. As you know, 
 I've built upon large fortunes. I am re-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 219 
 
 puted wealthy, but there never was a 
 sadder mistake. A few starts I've got have 
 discovered to me how much I've built on 
 it. You know a man can't peep into his 
 heart like a show-box," continued he, getting 
 a little playfully speculative, to soften the 
 earnestness of the communication. " Gad ! 
 till some great emergency turns up, he can't 
 tell whether he^s a Wilberforce or a Ra- 
 vaillac, or plain John Smith, who hopes to 
 go to heaven." 
 
 M You're not a Wilberforce," smiled 
 Heath, smarting at heart. 
 
 "Well, all I mean to say is this. The 
 state of doubt I have been kept in is making 
 a vindictive, bad man of me. I'm not one 
 to work my own sap and mine, like you; 
 my tastes are formed ; want and work, with 
 the smell of old type under my nose, would 
 just make shaving dangerous. You might 
 as well ask a Skye terrier to build with his 
 tail, like a beaver. The mere appre- 
 hension, by Jove! has turned me into a 
 vindictive, suspicious man, who goes about 
 fighting with his friends."
 
 220 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " You're young yet to be so bent on 
 wealth," said Heath. 
 
 " I tell you, I've been brought up to it, 
 man. My mother impressed religion upon 
 me, as she did how to sit at table; but 
 her real training, line upon line, was to 
 look to wealth and station as the perfected 
 butterfly state of man. I'd sooner be knocked 
 dead than be a grub during life's month 
 of May." 
 
 u Life is well enough, John, with a good 
 conscience, and work enough to keep one 
 awake. I cross the fields here. Good 
 morning." 
 
 Mr. Brom sauntered back, reflecting 
 on the interview. He broke out with 
 sudden impatience: 
 
 "D — n me, I prate too much; there's 
 this fellow in all his rage never committed 
 himself for a moment, and I with my heart 
 upon my sleeve."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 221 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 SOMETHING UNPAID. 
 
 " Now, tell me every word that passed," 
 said Ellen, drawing the Surgeon aside to 
 the window with great expectancy. " You 
 said he would not take it at first. I've not 
 heard half." 
 
 " Well, he took it at last. There's the 
 other half." 
 
 " You've generally a better memory, 
 Jem," she said, disappointed. 
 
 " I met him to-day, again." 
 
 " Well, what happened?" she' asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Nothing very interesting; we all but 
 quarrelled." 
 
 " Then you must be to blame, Jamie." 
 
 " See ! you've satisfied yourself," he re- 
 plied. " You know more than I do, it
 
 222 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 seems; my time is up, Ellen, and I've 
 really nothing to tell. 'Twas as dry a 
 business transaction as ever you saw." 
 
 " Stay," she said. " I'll walk up the road 
 with you a bit." She put on her hat and 
 shawl, and followed him out. The Mead 
 Hill swells were in view, and a distant scaf- 
 folded building white in the sunshine. 
 
 "Look, Jamie!" she cried. "What a 
 beautiful object the House makes on the 
 hill." i 
 
 " And yet," said he, "a few days ago I 
 was walking through it, and round it, and 
 would you think it, Ellen, that beautiful 
 bright object is really all besplashed with 
 lime and crowded with filthy workmen ; the 
 ground is all puddles and shavings. Ah, 
 Ellen, it is not well to come too close to your 
 beautiful objects." 
 
 " But you needn't spoil it to one so," 
 she said. 
 
 " Ellen, I'd give fifty pounds to think of 
 John Brom as I thought of him three days 
 ago. 
 
 " You seem to have changed towards 
 him strangely."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 223 
 
 11 Ah, Ellen, his objects are lower than 
 I thought ; there's the dross in them all." 
 " He has offended you deeply, I see." 
 " He has. This morning he covertly 
 taunted me with my obligations to him." 
 " Xot after he had got the money?" 
 " After he had got the money." 
 Some minutes passed, whilst Ellen 
 pondered. 
 
 " But Jamie, you have not paid him yet." 
 " What do you mean?" he asked. 
 u You've paid him the money because 
 the debt oppressed you. Was that for his 
 sake or your own ? He sent you the money 
 secretly because he loved you. The best 
 part of the debt, the motive — how ill you 
 repay that, Jamie ! " 
 
 Heath sighed heavily, for there was truth 
 in what she said. 
 
 " It seems to me, Jamie, the money gift 
 was the mere shell, but the motive was the 
 sweet kernel of all." 
 
 " You're right, Ellen ; you go deeper than 
 I. Yet, don't you think a long course of 
 slight and unkindness, and contempt, un-
 
 224 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 deserved, ay, and insult, may at last 
 efface even a debt of the heart." 
 
 "How can it? The value received re- 
 mains. I'll tell you how you may go near 
 to repay all." 
 
 She stood on the road, and he turned to 
 hear — " Forgive him." 
 
 "That's easy done, Ellen. He's for- 
 given," — he waved his hand. 
 
 " Call on him then, without pride this 
 time, and without the manner which says 
 quite plainly, l There, you've as good as you 
 gave — we're quits.' Just stoop, Jamie, to 
 remove his suspicion for the sake of that 
 rare kind act and all the nobleness that 
 went to it." She looked like a young fanatic 
 as she stood there, bright-eyed and eager 
 on the road. 
 
 " Now," said he, " you're looking at the 
 far bright house again, I'm afraid; but, no 
 matter, you reason better than I. I'll call 
 on him once more. Go back now — he little 
 thinks he has such an advocate." 
 
 " I am only grateful," she said, as she 
 turned away with a blush.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 225 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 ellen's hero. 
 
 A few days after this conversation an in- 
 cident occurred to Ellen which was an 
 event to her in her utter seclusion. She 
 had now grown as familiar with Miss Wright 
 as she was capable of being with an ac- 
 quaintance of so short a standing; and 
 in small matters Miss Wright had acquired 
 an influence over her, in right of her impul- 
 sive nature, though far the feebler character 
 of the two. 
 
 They sat together; Ellen on her music 
 stool before the open piano, and Miss Wright 
 close by. They were talking about Mr. 
 Brom. 
 
 " Should you like to know him? " asked 
 Miss Wright, 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 NOTICE TO QUIT* 
 
 " N-n-no ; I like to see him and hear 
 about him, you know," said Ellen, simply. 
 
 " If you knew him at all you'd like to 
 know him well, dear. He is delightful; 
 he makes you forget he is clever too, which 
 is the cleverest thing of all," said Miss 
 Wright, with some shrewdness. 
 
 "He is so fond of his mother," put in 
 Ellen. 
 
 " That's quite a vulgar merit, Ellen," 
 laughed Miss Wright. " It's a good thing, 
 you know, but quite ridiculous to mention." 
 
 " The highest virtues," said Ellen, with 
 satire, — " honour and truth, and — and 
 religion, seem quite droll to worldly peo- 
 ple." 
 
 " How did you find out that in your cell, 
 Ellen?" 
 
 " James gets laughed at for them." 
 
 " Not for religion, I'll be bound. We 
 must admit a Saint Ellen, but never a 
 Saint Jamie." 
 
 " Is Mr. Brom religious?" she faltered. 
 
 "I dare say; as much as is useful and 
 usual. I've read very fine sentiments from
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 227 
 
 him in the ' Manchester Era,' about Sabbath 
 breaking ; and he goes to church regularly, 
 and sings with the choir." 
 
 u But he is religious, I think," said 
 Ellen. 
 
 "Oh; you t seem to know more of him 
 than I do. I don't suppose St. Paul, if he 
 walked the earth now-a-days would am- 
 bition above all things to get into Parlia- 
 ment ; and I don't imagine St. Peter would 
 sacrifice his night's rest to become a famous 
 historian. Mr. Brom's mansion is neither 
 in the skies nor beyond them." 
 
 In fact, Miss Wright made it out clearly 
 that a public man, if he goes in really for 
 success, must be only a sort of dilettante in 
 religious matters. He must stake all for 
 the marble niche. 
 
 Ellen quoted certain words of ancient 
 credit, which, if true, we but lightly weigh. 
 
 " What advantageth it a man if he gain 
 the whole world and lose his own soul?" 
 
 Presently, at Miss Wright's request, she 
 began to play some piece. Music was her 
 only amusement, and those who understood 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 the art used to praise her execution with 
 an exaggeration I am not prepared to follow 
 or understand. She had scarcely let the 
 last chords die when a quick bold knock 
 came to the door. She rose quickly. 
 
 "It is Jamie," she said;. "he left his 
 latch-key on the shelf. I'll let him in." 
 
 She went out and raised the latch, but it 
 was not the Surgeon; a tall dark com- 
 plexioned man stood before her; her lids 
 fell before him, for she knew it was Mr. 
 Brom. 
 
 He introduced himself gently, and told 
 her he was come to call on Miss Wright. 
 Ellen mechanically showed him in, and 
 then escaped ignominiously. 
 
 " I frightened your little friend," he said, 
 laughing, when he had shaken hands with 
 Miss Wright. 
 
 " I'm so much obliged to you for re- 
 membering me, Mr. Brom. You must not 
 mind Miss Tern's alarm at your visit. 
 Children and young ladies are still fright- 
 ened by what they long for." 
 
 " I never saw a sweeter face," said he.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 229 
 
 Miss Wright could not gracefully agree 
 here ; too pale surely, and that sad frown, 
 eyebrows so very low (Miss Wright's eye- 
 brows arched like ebon crescents) ; so Mr. 
 Brom did not press the affront. He asked 
 her how she liked her new home and the 
 people. 
 
 u It suits me very well for the summer 
 months, Mr. Brom ; I'm very fond of poor 
 little Ellen, but for the Surgeon — " she 
 shook her head. 
 
 " Miss Tern seems very shy." 
 
 " Ah ! you've made a conquest there, with- 
 out intending it," said Miss Wright, archly. 
 
 " Why, we never met until to-day," he 
 replied with an incredulous smile. 
 
 " Have you not? Perhaps she could tell 
 you a different tale, — of peeps at you, riding 
 by, of glimpses of you, coming out of church ; 
 she never is tired of hearing about you; 
 she reads of you, and thinks of you, and, I 
 dare say, dreams of you ; you are her hero, 
 and I really believe she'll break her heart 
 if you don't turn out the greatest man and 
 most eminent Christian of the day." 
 
 Q 3
 
 230 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Vanity has the stomach of an ostrich, but 
 Mr. Brom could perceive, nevertheless, that 
 this sketch was over-coloured ; still he was 
 gratified and interested. " If this be all 
 true," he laughed, "what a traitor you 
 must be !" He said he had a right in his 
 turn to know something of Miss Tern. He 
 praised her music, which he confessed he 
 had been listening to before he knocked, 
 and he made many inquiries about her 
 habits and tastes. 
 
 " I must cultivate my little votary," said 
 he. 
 
 " You'd better not without the Surgeon's 
 leave. He cultivates his little flower-bed 
 jealously, and pales it in from all comers." 
 
 Mr. Brom had risen to take leave; he 
 paused now. 
 
 u It is iive years now since I've been in 
 this house, and I know nothing of its affairs. 
 Are they engaged? Don't answer me if I'm 
 indiscreet." 
 
 "Engaged! bless you, no, Mr. Brom. 
 How could he marry, unless Lady Bunbury 
 would give him a pension? "
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 231 
 
 Mr. Brom looked a cold reproof, and 
 Miss Wright was conscious of her indeli- 
 cacy, yet he bade her a very gracious adieu. 
 
 M You must teach your friend not to be 
 afraid of me," he said, laughing ; " but do 
 not tell her how vain she has made me." 
 
 It was a curious fact that Ellen asked her 
 no questions about this unexpected visit. 
 Miss Wright's vulgar mind and reckless 
 tongue in part repelled her. Not so with 
 Surgeon Heath. He made particular in- 
 quiries, and Miss Wright, being alone with 
 him, met his curiosity with intense unre- 
 serve. Mr. Brom's admiration for his 
 cousin, his high interest, and close ques- 
 tioning, — she pursued this part of the sub- 
 ject till she thought she saw the Surgeon 
 wince. Then she proceeded to tell him 
 how she could not refrain from telling Mr. 
 Brom how Ellen admired him in secret; 
 how she peeped at him with timid wonder ; 
 what a hero he was in Grauwacke Lodge. 
 
 " Miss Wright, Miss Wright," cried the 
 Surgeon, flushed; "you were wrong there; 
 you were not true to Ellen." 
 q 4
 
 232 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 u Are you accusing me of untruth, Sur- 
 geon Heath?" said Miss Wright, with sud- 
 den violence. 
 
 " I accuse you of nothing," he said, re- 
 straining himself in vain, " I only regret 
 that Ellen was not warned of this possi- 
 bility. You have been admitted into our 
 circle, Miss Wright; we took no care of 
 our words before you, and you have done 
 Ellen injustice by your construction, and 
 by your " 
 
 " Well, what next ? suppose we call it 
 treachery, betrayal, perfidy." 
 
 a You are a lady, and our guest, and " 
 
 u So you remember that at last." 
 
 " And I am sorry for my rudeness," he 
 continued, "but do not speak of this to 
 Ellen; you have quite mistaken her." 
 
 This intelligence came upon Heath's 
 mind with a sudden and unwonted pain, 
 and left a misgiving. 
 
 He had a visit that day from a very oily 
 gentleman, wily and verbose. He had 
 come, he said, to solicit Surgeon Heath's 
 vote and interest for Mr. Brom, who had
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 233 
 
 come forward to offer himself to his many 
 friends as a candidate for the county, Mr. 
 , having accepted the Chiltern Hun- 
 dreds. " The claims of Mr. Brom were " 
 — Heath stopped him. 
 
 " I know Mr. Brom's claims, and his 
 principles, as stated in his address, are my 
 own. I'll give him my vote." 
 
 u Pray hear me, notwithstanding," said 
 the gentleman, with an oily radiance. " Pray 
 hear me out. The principle, Sir " 
 
 " I suppose I know my own principles, 
 Sir. I am sure your time is valuable." 
 
 "Allow me, Sir, I entreat. Mr. Brom 
 would have every friend of his examine and 
 comprehend thoroughly the principles which 
 actuate him. He is above a mere depen- 
 dence upon the zeal of friend or party. 
 He is above ." 
 
 In fact, the oily gentleman had prepared 
 a little convincing harangue, and would not 
 be put off. It seemed to him that the 
 Surgeon did not understand his own prin- 
 ciples, and thought they must be explained 
 to him unctuously. Heath let him go 
 through with his flourish.
 
 234 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 u Now, my dear Sir," he concluded, u I 
 do hope you are satisfied. I may not have 
 expressed myself so clearly " 
 
 u So clearly, Sir," said the Surgeon, 
 u you've almost persuaded me to withhold 
 my vote." 
 
 The oily man started, and grew pale. 
 He was essaying a few declamatory gasps, 
 when Heath cut him civilly short. 
 
 "Be content, Sir. I plump for Mr. 
 Brom." 
 
 The oily man took up his hat, and, in 
 fact, ran away with the plumper before it 
 could be withdrawn.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 235 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 THE GHOUL OF GRAUWACKE LODGE. 
 
 Cakes began to come very thickly upon 
 Ellen. For many years she had been obliged 
 to transform her mind into a passbook, and 
 face the thousand petty cares of poverty 
 with but one grand daily exercise to keep 
 the heart large and soft, — an earnest trust 
 in God. Her father's creditors, to do them 
 justice, showed her a good deal of considera- 
 tion ; but there was an evil spirit who trou- 
 bled her peace more than all — dry, restless, 
 dinning Aunt Bell. Miss Drew was the ghoul 
 of her childhood. She had then established 
 herself in head-quarters to raid and ravage, 
 but was summarily and unexpectedly ex- 
 pelled : for some years she was kept at a 
 quiet distance by regular yearly instalments
 
 236 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 of a great debt due to her, but in this un- 
 fortunate year Ellen, in concert with the 
 Surgeon, had devoted all that could be 
 spared to liquidate the debt of honour to 
 Mr. Brom, which pressed so upon both 
 their minds, and Miss Drew was put off 
 with promises and apologies. The conse- 
 quence was she rose on harpy wings from 
 her remote lodgings near Liverpool and 
 alighted in equally narrow apartments for 
 single ladies at Lower Weston. Ellen found 
 herself in contact with a mind worn hard 
 and sour, which could feel no pity save for 
 itself, and hear no reasoning save what was 
 its interest to hear. How the sharp tale 
 of injury and robbery kept piping through 
 the house like a winter wind ! 
 
 Surgeon Heath would have interfered, 
 but Ellen forbade him; she bore it all in 
 silence, till once or twice the long ferment 
 of worry broke out in some home truths 
 for Aunt Bell's consideration. If she could 
 have spun off all her long hair into gold 
 (it looked as if she could), she would have 
 done it, so that she might say : " Old, dry,
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 237 
 
 weary Aunt Bell, jangle here* no more, 
 you have now your money, — interest and 
 principal. Whet not your tongue at me 
 ever again ; do you go to the Antipodes and 
 leave me here, or I shall go and do you re- 
 main. Old, dry, weary Aunt Bell, jangle 
 about me no more !" 
 
 Miss Bell Drew, now dry, sharp and 
 dinning, was once credulous and kind. 
 She had a couple of thousand pounds in 
 Chester bank, and looked to buying a hus- 
 band with the store. But Doctor Tern, 
 then plunging in his thickest toils, renting 
 a large house, driving a carriage, drinking 
 claret on credit, having spent a similar 
 sum he got by his wife, inveigled simple 
 Bell to lend him fifteen hundred pounds. 
 The loan saved the Doctor from fore- 
 most creditors; he dropt the amount to 
 them as he might have dropt a baby to the 
 wolves : but poor Bell found herself ruined. 
 From being a fat, fair girl, she dwindled 
 into a thin spinster, with but one end in life, 
 — reprisals of her wrongs upon innocent 
 and guilty alike. She took the law, but
 
 238 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 having secured herself with no scrap of 
 paper to support her case, it fell to the 
 ground, and she was further impoverished. 
 Then Miss Drew, in face of all the worship- 
 ful court, informed the Judge, " that in all 
 her experience of life, which was bitterly- 
 extensive, she had met only one person as 
 iniquitous as her brother-in-law, and that 
 was his Lordship; that if he imagined he 
 had beaten her, he was mistaken. Her 
 spirit was indomitable, she would persevere 
 again and again. She was told this was 
 law, and that was law; but she only saw 
 roguery on all sides. She saw no difference 
 between the rogue in rags and the rogue in 
 ermine. If it was law that she was to be 
 robbed, she was determined, single-handed, 
 to reform the law." 
 
 What do you think of that, Mr. White- 
 side? 
 
 The benevolent Judge excused her glar- 
 ing contempt of court, and preserved his 
 gravity amid the roar of laughter. There 
 is no saying what Miss Drew might have 
 accomplished, if she had had the means to
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 239 
 
 argue her own brief as she determined, but 
 poverty tied her hand and foot. She then 
 opened a bitter correspondence with her 
 silent sister, Mrs. Tern, who bore it all 
 meekly, and occasionally replied in a con- 
 ciliatory tone — mere flax to Miss Drew's 
 torch. Sister Bell's letters, exhausting the 
 whole vocabulary of reproach, stand six 
 inches high in an old cupboard. 
 
 Now she has gathered all her wreck, and 
 established herself in the neighbourhood of 
 Lower Weston, as you might see a vulture 
 alight within prudent distance of its prey. 
 
 Is it not a pity that those deeply wronged, 
 as was Miss Drew, whom, if they showed 
 resignation, we must all commiserate, will 
 create quite an opposite feeling for them- 
 selves by pitching their voices too shrill? 
 And yet, if they were too silent and patient, 
 we must confess, their wrongs would soon 
 fade from our memory ; we — the world — 
 keep no record of silent sorrows. 
 
 It was a dismal rainy day, such a one as 
 robs one of all comfort. Ellen had been 
 unwell ; she was liable to headache, and had
 
 240 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 been suffering acutely all the morning: 
 over-anxiety always brought it on. 
 
 She had gone through her various house- 
 hold duties with a marble cheek, and never 
 complained; she belonged to the enduring 
 class who dislike sympathy and pitying 
 words. Still with watery eye she sat over 
 her needlework, casting a pained look upon 
 the dismal fog at times. 
 
 The piano had been unopened all the day. 
 About an hour before tea-time she got her 
 accounts for the week, it being Saturday, 
 and began to work them up; the throbs 
 quickened upon her as she bent and puzzled 
 over the figures. Mary sat near, but did 
 not address her or offer her help ; she 
 threw her looks of pity now and then. 
 
 Surgeon Heath comes in, walking lightly, 
 and sits down with a book ; but he watches 
 her beneath his hand. He sees the wince of 
 pain, and, going over, takes the account-book 
 from her with gentle firmness, and bring- 
 ing it to the table, clears up all with a few 
 dots and flourishes, then lays it by. 
 
 He said he would claim this hour before
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 241 
 
 tea, and, taking out some cheap serial, he 
 began at a story of play-book love and 
 sword-lath murder, putting in some droll 
 improvisations, so that Juliana expired 
 amid the laughter of her audience. 
 
 Ellen got up, and made tea with a hear- 
 tiness which showed the relief the short 
 diversion had given her ; and her returning 
 gloom was still kept at arms-length by his 
 ever ready gaiety — each contraction of pain 
 smoothed away as it began. He could 
 have spent his life in watching her moods, 
 and buying her smiles. Poor fool ! 
 
 There came a sharp knock to the hall 
 door, not unexpected. 
 
 " That is Aunt Bell," said Ellen, with a 
 sigh ; u please get another cup, Miss Wright." 
 
 Heath got up, and opened the door; a 
 gentle womanly person stood without, well 
 muffled, accompanied by a maid, who held 
 a dripping umbrella over her. 
 
 "Is Miss Tern within?" 
 
 "Come in, Miss Drew; she is within; 
 you are just in time for tea." 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Thank you, Surgeon Heath. I am 
 come upon immediate business." 
 
 " Miss Tern is not well ; we are careful 
 not to speak on business to her to-night." 
 
 " Thank you, Sir ; you have no business 
 with her, I suppose; I have. Sally, you 
 can go down stairs, till I call you; don't 
 leave the umbrella in the hall, woman." 
 
 She immediately began to take off her 
 pattens, whispering to herself, till she fan- 
 cied she heard a noise on the stairs, and 
 she suddenly clutched at Heath's arm. 
 
 "Gracious! is he loose, Sir?" 
 
 "Who ma'am?" 
 
 " Is Dr. Tern secured?" she whispered. 
 
 u There is not the smallest danger, so 
 long as you don't speak loud, ma'am." 
 
 She kept him between her and the stairs 
 as she actively entered the parlour, and the 
 moment she was safe inside, she made him 
 the eccentric request to bolt the door. He 
 did so, with a smile. 
 
 So Aunt Bell sat down to table — a bony 
 frame, with an anxious green eye, a pursy 
 mouth, and a sweating sickness of bitter
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 243 
 
 words, seeking to break forth at the earliest 
 opportunity. 
 
 All were cautious not to give her an 
 open, and parried each symptom of her 
 complaint with some small attention, striv- 
 ing to stop her mouth. 
 
 Heath engaged her with resolution upon 
 a discussion on Sunday schools, but she 
 killed the innocent subject by accusing all 
 the teachers in Great Britain of Jesuitism. 
 He told her of the alarming illness of a 
 lady in the neighbourhood. 
 
 " Ha!" said Miss Drew, and no more. 
 
 He dwelt strongly on the advance of the 
 temperance movement in that locality. 
 
 "Well, Sir," said Aunt Bell, with a 
 snap, " what possible connection can the 
 temperance movement have with me?" 
 
 Miscellaneous conversation nagged, and 
 Miss Drew stiffened herself. Then Mary 
 began to hang silently on her rear; when- 
 ever she caught Miss Drew's wild-fowl eye 
 she feigned a glance of uneasiness at the 
 door. Then the spinster would shrink, 
 and look scared. This gentle by -play had 
 
 R 2
 
 244 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 more effect in quelling her than all Heath's 
 conversational tactics; so they played cat 
 and mouse all during tea. When Miss 
 Drew had finished her second cup, and 
 Ellen was about to offer her another, she 
 suddenly opened her reticule, and drew 
 forth a paper. Mary feigned a great start. 
 
 u Oh law, girl! what's the matter?" cried 
 Miss Drew, stiffening her figure. 
 
 Mary could not reply, for she was laugh* 
 ing behind her handkerchief. 
 
 Aunt Bell opened the paper, and laid it 
 before Ellen, pointing with her fore-finger 
 to the first line. 
 
 " Please look over that," she said. 
 
 Then, pursing her thin lips, she looked 
 heart-broken at the urn. 
 
 " This is an attorney's letter to you," 
 said Ellen, quickly, "for an amount due 
 of ten pounds." 
 
 u So you see," said Aunt Bell, still fas- 
 cinated by the urn. 
 
 " I do hope you can settle it imme- 
 diately," put in Ellen, after a pause. 
 
 " Ah ! how can I settle it? "
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 245 
 
 "I'm sorry for that," said Ellen, con- 
 fused. 
 
 " And how in the name of patience, child, 
 am I to settle it immediately?" 
 
 Ellen sought refuge in silence. 
 
 "And how am I to settle it?" said Aunt 
 Bell, raising her voice. " You needn't sulk 
 at my question." 
 
 " Don't depend upon me for so large a 
 sum at once," said Ellen, after a cold 
 silence ; " I made the utmost payment I 
 could upon the first of the month." 
 
 " Miss Ellen Tern, I began life in comfort 
 and affluence; I was alone in the world; 
 and an unmarried gentlewoman with small 
 attractions of person — ahem ! — has need of 
 independence before all other creatures 
 whatsoever, for she's apt to be friendless." 
 
 "Aunt Bell, I'm familiar with your his- 
 tory, you know." 
 
 "Why don't you blush to confess it?" 
 exclaimed Miss Drew, now fairly roused. 
 " But for my tenderness and pity for your 
 mother I should not have been fooled, 
 left destitute in my old age, twitted by 
 
 E 3
 
 "246 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 her daughter, refused my own, my right; 
 pinched and worried from morning to night, 
 and doomed perhaps to perish miserably 
 in some charitable asylum." 
 
 " How can Ellen be made amenable for 
 this, Miss Drew?" said Surgeon Heath, 
 anxious to interfere ; " this language to her 
 is very cruel." 
 
 u Let her go on," said Ellen, energeti- 
 cally. 
 
 "My language, Surgeon Heath, is not 
 cruel. In my piteous position I suppose 
 I have some right to speak, and I can feel 
 it perhaps a little more keenly than you 
 can." 
 
 "What can Ellen do more than she is 
 doimr? She does not deserve such lan- 
 
 
 guage. 
 
 " I am using the language, Sir, that her 
 own darling mother, if she were in the 
 room with us this moment, would use. I 
 am asking but a little of that relief, that 
 relief, which she, dear heart, would shower 
 upon me. Would she see me, do you sup- 
 pose, at my age at the mercy of heartless
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 247 
 
 lawyers? How would she feel if she were to 
 hear I was living in two miserable little 
 rooms, with a grate about the size of that 
 sugar-bowl, so that my feet are frozen, and 
 only an untrained gawk of a girl to attend 
 my wants ? And, gracious me ! to look round 
 this fine room furnished and over furnished 
 with every luxury!" She fastened her 
 eyes upon the piano. " I tell you, till you 
 relieve my wants, you are eating, drinking, 
 playing, at my cost." 
 
 Heath whispered, " Ellen is ill ; no more 
 to-night." 
 
 " I'm not ill, Jemmy, let Miss Drew 
 speak," said Ellen, with the same flicker 
 of impatience. 
 
 " Do you want me to sell my piano, 
 Miss Drew?" 
 
 " I certainly think," said Miss Drew, a 
 little mollified, " when the possession of a 
 grand toy is weighed against the distress 
 of your mother's only sister, that there 
 ought to be an obvious answer. How- 
 ever " 
 
 " I'm willing to do it. Let's drop the 
 
 E 4
 
 248 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 subject now, Miss Drew, for it is distress- 
 ing." 
 
 " I must speak, Miss Tern/' Ellen 
 dropped her brow on her hand. 
 
 " I do not wish to take your piano from 
 you, child; I came over here through rain 
 and misery to make you a proposal in 
 which I shall be supported by the whole 
 neighbourhood ; do not stop my mouth this 
 way." 
 
 Here Miss Drew informed Ellen that 
 she had a buried talent, for which she was 
 responsible — one by which she could, in 
 six months, obtain the means of clearing 
 with her mother's only sister — by offering 
 her services as a music mistress, in Liver- 
 pool, or elsewhere, for a short time ; there 
 would be a competition among twenty 
 wealthy families who should have her first ; 
 in short, a year's teaching would clear all 
 her difficulties. 
 
 " Out of the question," said Ellen, quite 
 sharply. 
 
 " And I beg to know why? Noblemen's 
 daughters have stooped lower from motives 
 of mere duty, Miss Ellen Tern."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 249 
 
 " I've considered the question before now, 
 Miss Drew ; I'm unsuited utterly, and I'll 
 never do it." 
 
 Surgeon Heath had begun walking up 
 and down the room. 
 
 " You must do it, Miss Tern ; you'll be 
 driven to it, Miss Tern ; all the world will 
 support me : Surgeon Heath must support 
 me in this." 
 
 Ellen was mute. 
 
 " You were not given that talent for 
 nothing, Miss Tern. Do you, can you, 
 expect me to spare you, when you have the 
 means in your power? Your objection to 
 strangers is quite nugatory and disgraceful 
 when placed against such a sacred object. 
 Will you do it, once for all?" 
 
 " I'd sooner be a housemaid !" 
 
 Miss Drew jumped and turned red, she 
 was silenced for ever ; after this unexpected 
 ebullition there was not much more to be 
 said. Complain and mourn she did, but it 
 was wanderingly and in an under tone. 
 Heath presently saw her out, and offered to 
 escort her home. Whilst she was tying on
 
 250 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 her pattens, he just entered his own room 
 for a moment, and then reappeared; gal- 
 lantly and kindly he helped her through the 
 night, and Miss Drew seemed feebly grateful. 
 
 In her own dim hall he placed a gold 
 watch in her hands. 
 
 u Miss Drew, I think you'll find this will 
 clear your immediate difficulty in value; 
 write to Ellen to-morrow, cheerfully, tell 
 her not to sell her piano; that you have 
 found means of settling the demand, but 
 not a word from whom it came." 
 
 When Miss Wright had left the parlour, 
 Ellen rose, letting Miss Wright put up the 
 things and tidy the table. She sat down 
 by the fire to fret. 
 
 Miss Wright began to attempt what was 
 far beyond her skill, viz. — to comfort. 
 
 u I never met such a provoking woman. 
 I declare she don't deserve the smallest 
 consideration. Eeally, Ellen, if I were you, 
 I'd consider the claims of every creditor 
 before hers. I never was better pleased 
 than torturing her to-night, if I could only 
 have kept my countenance."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 251 
 
 Ellen said nothing. 
 
 M I could have kissed you, Ellen, when 
 you snubbed her that time. It was really 
 too bad. Such an impudent, hateful pro- 
 posal ! I wonder she had the face to make 
 it to you before us all. Why did you 
 bear it so long? I'd like to hear her talk 
 that way to me. Now, don't begin to blame 
 yourself. You were perfectly right in 
 what you said, and you must not worry 
 over it." 
 
 " I forgot to leave the money for the 
 market-man," said Ellen, abstractedly; and 
 Miss Wright saw that not a word of her 
 consolation had lodged, so kissing her, she 
 remarked it was near eleven o'clock, and 
 went to bed. 
 
 Ellen sat pressing her forehead, the 
 sounds of rain deepening her sadness, till 
 Heath's step aroused her. He stood stretch- 
 ing his arm along the mantel-piece, — wait- 
 ing till she chose to speak. 
 
 " This is the hardest thing happened to 
 me yet, Jemmy." 
 
 " I don't think that. — Miss Drew parted
 
 252 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 from me in unusual spirits for her; I con- 
 clude matters are not so bad with her as 
 she'd have us think." 
 
 "' Twill be a great misfortune to us, this 
 letter." 
 
 a Not the least. An attorney's fee will 
 be the extent of the mishap." 
 
 " I have been straining every means, and 
 on every side, to lay by for her; — have I 
 not?" 
 
 " Far more than you need." 
 
 " I've paid off nearly one hundred to 
 her, and she seems quite unconscious of the 
 effort." 
 
 " The poor woman's approval is of little 
 value, Ellen, when your own mind is 
 lightened." 
 
 " I've made myself ill thinking and turn- 
 ing over, day after day, what I could do for 
 her, and here's my return. I really some- 
 times think my nature is growing narrow 
 with this continual hanker after money, this 
 weary laying by," she said, the rind of 
 a jealous reserve turning out its sensitive 
 lining to him. " This running after pence,
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 253 
 
 and fretting after shillings, it's like cutting 
 one's nature and mind into bits." 
 
 " It does you no harm yet. I remember," 
 says Heath, cheerily, "when you were a 
 child, I was telling you a story of a princess 
 who was crowned with every happiness in 
 the end by her fairy god-mother. Now, 
 said you, c I'd rather be that kind fairy to 
 give all that, than the pretty princess, and 
 isn't that curious, Jemmy V " 
 
 " I couldn't fancy a greater delight than 
 to give heartily ; but this work will make a 
 niggard of me, if it goes on. Whilst Aunt 
 Bell was calling me sullen to-night," she said, 
 speaking as to her own heart, " she didn't 
 know that I was just fancying if I had but 
 her money counted out there on that empty 
 shelf within, and could just meet her re- 
 proaches by getting up and telling it out 
 before her in full measure and more, it 
 set me all glowing to think of it, not for the 
 triumph over the poor thing, but to see her 
 relieved, and to give her my hand, and feel 
 towards her at last as towards my mother's 
 sister."
 
 254 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " That day will come by and by, Ellen, 
 but you must avoid meeting her just at 
 present." 
 
 " She is my poor mother's sister, Jamie, 
 I'll not forget that ; but really she makes 
 me feel almost like a criminal." 
 
 " Consider this, Ellen ; if you stand in 
 the breach, you must harden yourself to 
 injustice. You can acquit yourself, that's 
 everything. There are two large classes, 
 Ellen, that almost make up life — the slan- 
 dered ones, who know their own innocence," 
 said Heath, vehemently, " and the plausible, 
 self-condemned, who feed on praise and 
 prosperity." 
 
 "When I was alone, just now, Jemmy, 
 a question forced itself upon me ; she spoke 
 of my mother. What advice would my 
 mother give me now?" said Ellen, plain- 
 tively. " If she stood right before me there, 
 what would she tell me to do?" 
 
 Heath spoke out sturdy and convinced. 
 
 " She would bid you live here ; she'd tell 
 you not to desert your father. No one but 
 you could manage his income or direct his
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 255 
 
 house. This appointment is precarious. 
 I believe that if you left the house to-mor- 
 row, the Guardians would see no further rea- 
 son to spare us, and in a week we should be 
 adrift," 
 
 " That's true, Jemmy, you are right. 
 How you have relieved me by that view ! 
 Well, all I can do is to sell the piano." 
 
 " The piano is a gift, and a gift is sacred," 
 said Heath. " It's the life and soul of the 
 house, so that if you sacrifice yourself, you 
 sacrifice us too; but, beside all that, it's 
 absolutely necessary to your own happiness 
 and efficiency; the mind cannot grub all 
 day long." 
 
 " But I'm willing to meet any privation. 
 I'd go without dinner, or I'd sleep on straw, 
 just to clear off the honest demands of poor 
 wronged people. This old grey dress was 
 the last I bought, and it's long before I'll 
 buy another. But, to become a teacher, to 
 force one's eyes upon some strange face 
 every day, to have my pride flayed alive, 
 I can't think of it. I can't kill myself, 
 Jemmy, can I?"
 
 256 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Forget it was ever proposed to you. 
 'Tis wrong even to waver," said this fanatic 
 counsellor. 
 
 u I was angry, I know," but still it was 
 right to refuse," murmured poor Ellen, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 u Ellen," said he, weightily; u you were 
 right." 
 
 " I'm convinced it's my duty also," said 
 Ellen, gravely lighting her chamber candle, 
 a to have Aunt Bell arrested, and her head 
 shaved." 
 
 " Must it be done to-night? " said Heath, 
 accustomed to this wayward playfulness. 
 
 " And it is my urgent duty to set fire to 
 the dispensary." 
 
 "I've half a pound of detonating powder, 
 so come along." 
 
 u I knew you daren't disagree with me," 
 she smiled. u Good night, Jemmy." 
 
 She went to bed in better cheer.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 257 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 THE LANCASHIRE WITCH. 
 
 It was an understood thing among Mr. 
 Brom's friends that he must be an em- 
 barrassed man. They knew his rent-roll 
 to a pound, and when they contemplated 
 the enormous expenses he must have in- 
 curred in the erection of his mansion, now 
 almost independent of its scaffolding, they 
 pronounced his resolution to offer himself 
 as a candidate for the county as little short 
 of madness. He had sold land indeed, and 
 to advantage, and there are many vulgar 
 means of raising the wind to a man who 
 owns twig and sod; but all such resources, 
 whilst they build above, are at the same 
 time mining beneath. His intention was 
 vol. i. s
 
 258 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 rather sharply criticised even by those who 
 could not refuse him their support. 
 
 There is a class of men who throw out 
 large roots, and whilst, to idle critics, they 
 seem to be shooting forth at wild random, 
 they are really taking an ample grasp of 
 the soil which may fitly support their future 
 weight of honour. 
 
 Mr. Brom was not extravagant in small 
 things. He made no parade of horses and 
 liveries, but led a student's life, chiefly in 
 London, varied by some short residences in 
 Paris whilst searching among MSS. and 
 old state papers in the Bibliotheque Eoyale 
 for records of historic import. The sum- 
 mer months were generally spent near his 
 own estate. 
 
 His hospitality was rarely exercised, but 
 handsome and lavish for the occasion, and 
 timed so as to tell. Nothing is so thank- 
 less or effaceable as struggling hospitality. 
 People who criticised Mr. Brom made no 
 allowance for these considerations. 
 
 Further, he foresaw the success of the 
 railway, and had embarked deeply in the 
 speculation, so deeply that he would have
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 259 
 
 looked blank had the principal of his shares 
 been required. His literary prospects were 
 opening. His daily journal betrays his 
 confidence of success in that noble field. 
 He records many advantageous offers made 
 to him by opulent publishers, as his first 
 volume drew towards a finish. In the 
 proper place I shall have occasion to draw 
 upon this journal briefly in illustration of 
 these statements. 
 
 One of the members for the county had 
 accepted the Chiltern Hundreds, and Mr. 
 Brom, long expectant of such a vacancy, 
 stood forth as a candidate. He took high 
 grounds, and put forth most imposing 
 claims. 
 
 In casting over the various resources for 
 raising means, his rough old acquaintance, 
 " The Stoker," arose in his memory, and 
 he perceived an obvious coincidence in their 
 interests which might be turned to no dis- 
 honourable advantage. One memorable 
 morning he walked over from Mead Hill 
 to the neighbouring dwelling of Jonathan 
 Gowan. 
 
 s 2
 
 260 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 He was approaching the house, when at 
 a turn in the road, he met a throng of 
 country bumpkins running for their lives. 
 — mouths and eyes wide open. 
 
 " What is the matter, men ? " 
 
 " Ma-aw-ter ? The deyvel is a coomin up 
 th' road, maester, coot awa. Here, hoo's a 
 coomin? Oh, the dey-aw-vel !" and on they 
 rushed in horror. 
 
 Puff, puff! In clouds of soot and smoke 
 the monster came slowly up the road ; a 
 huge iron arm pumped solemnly up and 
 down in front, as it snorted steam in angry 
 whiffs, first at this hedge and then at that, 
 and powdered the road with sparks. 
 
 Upon it the grim Stoker was mounted, 
 smiling majestically round, — his eldest son 
 beside him as fireman. — So grand was his 
 mien, that Mr. Brom forgot to address him, 
 and he rolled by him with a lofty triumph 
 too big for words. The effect was so irresist- 
 ibly ludicrous that Mr. Brom burst into a 
 long peal of laughter. Then old Gowan 
 reversed his engine and came back. 
 
 " YeTL see mony a day, Muster Broom,
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 261 
 
 and never happen on a gritter than this," 
 were his first majestic words. u Here, step 
 ye up, and we'll e'en ride whoam." 
 
 Mr. Brom got up, with some sinking at 
 heart, and they proceeded slowly back to 
 the gate. It was not till Mr. Go wan had 
 stabled his monster, that he could suffi- 
 ciently descend to welcome his guest, which 
 he did at length, with a crush of his 
 terrible fist, full of that selfish cordiality 
 which springs from triumph. Mr. Brom 
 gave him ample tether, and humoured him 
 to the top of his bent. 
 
 " Theer, Sir ! " cried the Stoker, drawing 
 himself up with outspread palms ; " theer' s 
 the lass 'ill draw a woal regiment at her stern. 
 I ca' her th' Lancashire witch. Th' Lan- 
 cashire witch !" he roared, as if in defiance 
 of all competitors. 
 
 " Now, Measter Brom, I'll give ye your 
 dinner, if ye can eat it to a glawss o' small 
 beer, for I offer no man what I doan't 
 touch mysel'." 
 
 He had boosed a small bottle of hollands 
 
 s 3
 
 262 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 since morning, and smelt of it vilely, though 
 it never touched his iron head-piece. 
 
 " Mr. Brom dined with him, and magni- 
 fied his influence with the railway direc- 
 tors. He confessed, carelessly, to the 
 numbers of shares he held, and of his 
 intention of becoming a director. He opened 
 to him, with due mystery, his intention of 
 standing for the county, and hinted what 
 power he might possess to serve a friend if 
 he succeeded. The Stoker was riveted with 
 interest. 
 
 " Then, Measter Broom, ye ha' sin to-day 
 the locomottive we mun employ; yo'll 
 niver meet her aqual. Hoo's the power o' 
 a hoonder 'oss, hoo have. Hoo'll run on 
 smooth rail at twalve mile an hour, and 
 clomb a gradient o' two feet in fifty yards." 
 
 u You may reckon on my hearty support, 
 Mr. Gowan. I'm not a man of protesta- 
 tions, but reckon on my hearty support. 
 Quite independently of our old friendship, 
 Mr. Gowan, I should still conscientiously 
 support you, for merit is its own recom- 
 mendation."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 263 
 
 Here they shook hands heartily again, 
 which left Mr. Brom's thin, long fingers 
 very pale and contused. 
 
 " Wud yo know haw 'tis wi' us, measter, 
 hearken yo. Ma friend Trevethick med a 
 shrewd joomp for the saddle, and wur welly 
 into't, but slipped down again wheer he 
 wur. Geordie got a 'eave or two behind, 
 but goos reet ower th' 'oss, an' geets 
 laughed at, but I vault square astride, 
 measter, an sit theer. Hech, hech, hech! 
 haw, haw, haw!" he roared, with his 
 horrid harsh laugh. 
 
 Then Mr. Brom, with that tact and cau- 
 tion so essential to a public man, took 
 occasion to mention the only circumstances 
 of disadvantage which withstood his in- 
 fluence and success, a necessity of imme- 
 diate funds. 
 
 "And whar's th' foons t' coom fro, 
 measter," said the Stoker, looking sullenly 
 askance. 
 
 " Pray how will you get. your engine 
 backed against Geordie Stephenson and his 
 
 s 4
 
 264 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 powerful friends/' replied Mr. Brom, with 
 a skilful parry. 
 
 "As yo said joost naw, measter, merit 
 '11 do that. I'll tackle wi Geordie an his 
 freonds, and his son, and his son's freonds 
 any day, the public 'ill gie us a trial, an 
 let th' best mon carry it." 
 
 " Well, all I can promise I'll perform. 
 I'll back you to the utmost of my means." 
 
 "An thot's kindly said." The Stoker 
 put forth his fist and shook hands again. 
 
 " Naw, Measter Broom, I'm not a mon 
 as cares mooch for money whar I know 
 how it flees. I'd back ma opinion wi' it 
 for every word a gowden guinea." 
 
 Mr. Brom could not make out what the 
 old fellow was driving at, glaring at him 
 and smiling and winking. 
 
 " I'll support my opinion again th' 
 warld an its wife. May happen, measter, 
 I tak up a thingk too hotly, and beawt re- 
 gard o' persons; but I'm accoostomed to 
 respact, and I enforce respect; that's the 
 soart I am. Ma opinion taks a life to form, 
 and think yo I'll stond a fella wi' a head
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 265 
 
 like a peppercaster t'shake dust in my eyes. 
 Wot I say's settled, d — m me, it's settled, or 
 I knows woy afore I'm abed ; that's the soart 
 I am. Naw I tak it it's pretty evident to 
 a mon o' sense that an iron spoon 'ill sink 
 in a bowl o' porritch, wot think ye? " 
 
 " I'll not deny it," said Mr. Brom, much 
 perplexed. 
 
 "No, nor any mon who's nowt a frabbit 
 mule. Wot's this road right throof Chat- 
 moss, measter?" He laid his vulture fist 
 heavily on Mr. Brom's shoulder. 
 
 " Naw I'd venture ma money in th' 
 pocket o' a mon o' sense, and wi a long 
 tongue as would putt that ere peignt afore 
 the Parliamentary Committee, an' keep it 
 afore 'em till they swallow it." 
 
 "What earthly good will it do you?" 
 said Mr. Brom, incredulously. 
 
 " Nowt t' yo, measter ; wot if a mon has 
 a tooch o' pride or the loik? wot if a mon 
 has too big a heart to let his own paltry 
 interest coom atwix him an' a great ques- 
 tion; but this may be summot t' yo, or 
 another. I'll venture a thousand or two
 
 266 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 to th' mon who stands by me in th' matter, 
 and ull carry it or know for why." 
 
 Mr. Brom explained to him seriously 
 that what he proposed was not to be listened 
 to by a man who would enter Parliament 
 and take its oaths. " But," said he, " I 
 can promise you to give the subject my 
 most candid and earnest consideration, 
 should I be upon the Committee, and my 
 sympathies shall certainly be on your side, 
 Gowan." 
 
 " It's ill done, measter," grumbled the 
 Stoker, u to mak yer bow to a plan and 
 boggle to shak hands wi' it on the spot." 
 
 Mr. , Brom again entered with ample 
 fluency upon the subject, strongly imply- 
 ing that it was his impression a road through 
 Chatmoss was on the face of it impos- 
 sible. 
 
 " Eh, Sir, there he's wi' me, there he's 
 wi' me. I tell ee, mon, we'r both at the same 
 side o' th' wall, and hollerin across it at 
 one another." 
 
 Here Mr. Brom thought it necessary to 
 guard himself carefully again, and qualify
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 267 
 
 his admission carefully, till the old Stoker 
 found himself in a toil of words. 
 
 u Wal, this here cobs aw ever I heerd on. 
 It like clombin' up a greasy 'ill wi' you now ; 
 joost as we'er nigh atop, down we coom, 
 sli therm' hond in hond." 
 
 But your engine, Gowan, your new 
 patent engine; there I can promise my 
 hearty public support, and in all sincerity." 
 
 " Coaxin' doan't stick to me, measter." 
 Gowan rose stiff and upright on his feet ; 
 he looked seven feet high. 
 
 " I can see when a mon stonds out fair 
 afore me in the dayleet, an never look for 
 him behind a curtain." 
 
 " This is clear enough, Gowan, you'll 
 admit," said Mr. Brom, boldly, " To put it 
 in my power to support you, you must 
 come out before the world, and give weight 
 to your opinions by your presence. A 
 man who would have help from his friends 
 must help himself. I'll bring you forward 
 and recommend your engine to the Com- 
 mittee ; and my influence, as far as it goes, 
 shall be used for an old friend."
 
 268 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Mr. Brom spoke sincerely ; and old Gowan 
 believed him. 
 
 " Naw yo spik up to me short and honest. 
 Bless yer life, never mak a lather broosh 
 o' yer tongue, mon, for loo thee, it maks a 
 chap look out for the razor." 
 
 From this time the Stoker attended all the 
 meetings and discussions of the directors 
 and country gentlemen with Mr. Brom at 
 his side as mouthpiece, and the old fellow 
 used to get excited and scowl about from 
 under his beetle-brows, prompting Mr. Brom 
 vigorously; nudging him and winking at 
 him : slowly growling out his opinions in 
 his ear or grunting acquiescence. 
 
 And Mr. Brom found himself in funds.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 269 
 
 CHAP. XXV. 
 
 THE LAPWING'S NEST. 
 
 Mr. Brom was in a very anxious state of 
 mind, in his study all day grave and alone. 
 When the servant announced Surgeon Heatli, 
 he let slip a very unequivocal ejaculation 
 of impatience: 
 
 " My G ! did I not tell you I was 
 
 at home to none? Show him up then." 
 
 A moment after the Surgeon entered 
 quickly ; he stood with an expression almost 
 bashful and confused, as if he were at a 
 loss for words: yet he had conned the 
 speech he intended to make over and over 
 anxiously on his walk hither; at last he 
 blurted out what he had never devised to 
 say. 
 
 " I am come — the James Heath of five
 
 270 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 years ago — to give you an honest hand; 
 life's too short and friends too few to let 
 this go on; you've let suspicions grow 
 against me, John, and I've been too proud 
 to reply to them. Sweep them from be- 
 tween us, and give me your hand," he ex- 
 claimed, coming up to his man intrepidly. 
 " If you can afford to lose my friendship, I 
 can't afford to lose yours." 
 
 Over the cold estrangement of years 
 came a waft of olden kindness to John 
 Brom's mind; he returned the strong 
 grasp, and for to-day he let the grudge 
 goby. 
 
 Then Heath spoke, as the school-boy 
 used to speak, in the sea-beat playground, 
 talked up boldly and intimately to his 
 man ; he told John Brom he had his hearty 
 wishes and sympathy. He cheered him 
 with hopeful rumours of the swelling lists ; 
 he expressed, without a jot of flattery, his 
 zealous expectations of a brilliant career 
 for him in the House. In the large kind 
 heart not a shadow of envy skulked to 
 damp his sanguine prophecy.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 271 
 
 " Since the time we were friends, John, 
 how much you've done !" 
 
 " I've done nothing, nothing — nothing," 
 replied Mr. Brom. " All is to be done." 
 
 "Well, even so, you've got it to do, and 
 the open to do it, and that's rarely lucky, is 
 it not?" 
 
 " Yes, Jemmy, I've been in luck. I'm 
 opening a great game, and a safe one. I 
 tell you, man, there's nothing else worth 
 thinking of now-a-days ; active times, Jem ; 
 the weed that won't grow must rot." 
 
 " I'm that same weed. I fear," said Heath 
 with a sigh. 
 
 "Well, Jemmy, how's Miss Tern?" 
 
 " Eh ! Do you know her?" 
 
 " Singular ; that's what every one asks 
 when I only mention her name? How's 
 your pretty cousin, Miss Tern?" 
 
 " Miss Tern is very well, thank you," 
 said Heath, distantly. Then, with a smile, 
 " I've been collecting the papers with your 
 articles, John — they read well." 
 
 "Oh! Do you like them, Jemmy? At 
 least, I'd a new field ; I often fancied your
 
 272 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 face reading them — under-lip stuck out, 
 you know, and a cynical smile now and 
 then, eh?" 
 
 " That was hard upon my taste," smiled 
 Heath. " Now then, since I don't fear 
 complimentary reprisals, just now, I'll 
 stoutly tell you this." 
 
 And Heath, in that foolish enthusiasm of 
 old friendship still, praised these articles 
 with a fervour which brought the colour to 
 Mr. Brom's face. 
 
 w James Heath was mistaken," said Mr. 
 Brom in his security against praise, for he 
 could say this of him, he was the only 
 man he knew from whom he could trust 
 such praise. Thus, in the impulse of gra- 
 tification, he paid a compliment to Heath's 
 honesty. 
 
 Then Mr. Brom turned off the subject; 
 he placed his guest in the luxurious rocking- 
 chair, and had refreshment served up. 
 
 " I called at your place, the other day," 
 he said, " and I'm very much interested in 
 your cousin. What a good girl, and so 
 devoted! Miss Wright was telling me a 
 good deal about her."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 273 
 
 The bloom of Heath's cordiality somehow 
 got a brush here. " Miss Wright knows 
 absolutely nothing of my cousin's feeling, 
 opinions, or nature." 
 
 " Oh ! At least she seems very fond of 
 her. By the way, how do you like Miss 
 Wright?" 
 
 " I'm sure she is good-natured, but she 
 has a turn," said he, smiling, "for a little 
 harmless exaggeration — not always harm- 
 less, perhaps — she will make a whole history 
 from a little careless comment." 
 
 " I hope you do her injustice, Jamie. I 
 see clearly, I must seek an introduction to 
 your little circle through you, not through 
 my friend Miss Wright." 
 
 Our little circle is out of your sphere — 
 poor country people — quite out of your 
 sphere. So, I hear, John, you'll be a di- 
 rector of our railway." 
 
 u I don't know, I'm sure I don't know. 
 Don't you think your cousin would enjoy a 
 little quiet party, Jamie. Now my mother 
 is going to give some little musical party, I 
 believe." 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Ellen don't go to parties, thank you, 
 you are very kind." 
 
 "Well, give her a chance; at least tell 
 her my mother would be quite grateful 
 to her, if she would give us the pleasure." 
 
 u I'll tell her; I'll tell her. Mrs. Brom's 
 gratitude would be lightly won, no doubt ; 
 but I can assure you she always has re- 
 fused the few invitations which have come 
 in her way. Traces of hard work, last 
 night, John," he said, pointing to the splut- 
 tered remains of a candle in the reading 
 lamp; "that went late into the night." 
 
 " Yes, I was reading a novel ; and tell 
 me, why is it so hard to draw this pretty 
 badger of yours ?" 
 
 " Who do you mean?" 
 
 " You're very abstracted, this morning, 
 Jem." 
 
 "Not I." After a moment he added, 
 "'Ain't it strange, John? you and I chose 
 each a profession ; both were thought young 
 hopefuls, and sure to succeed ? Here we are 
 now, after ten years' drudge, I a deputy 
 practitioner, without a prospect of promo-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 275 
 
 tion, — dead-locked in this corner :■ and you 
 about to be a railway millionaire or a second 
 Sheridan." 
 
 Here Mr. Brom attacked Heath goodna- 
 turedly upon his want of energy. 
 
 " What business have you, Jemmy, in 
 this corner at all ? Gad, if I'd stuck here 
 another year I'd have been lost; get into 
 the thick of your profession, man, and com- 
 pete with them. Find out what you are. 
 You must pit yourself against other men, 
 and take it on you to believe you're the best 
 of the lot; the world will begin to agree 
 with you at last. But here you are, a man 
 of real talent, dreaming away your life ; dra- 
 gonising a pretty girl without a fortune." 
 
 " Thank you, Sir, thank you, I'll digest 
 what you've said," replied Heath with re- 
 turning good-humour. 
 
 " It's very presumptuous in me, Jem, but 
 you introduced the subject yourself; and 
 it's melancholy to see you here: I don't 
 know anything you can make here, except 
 enemies. Do you write poetry still?" 
 
 T 2
 
 276 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " I've caught myself at it, I confess," said 
 Heath. 
 
 " Now, my dear fellow, I hope you have 
 given up all notion of making your bread 
 that way. I've seen something of literary 
 life, and as to making money by poetry, you 
 might just as well play the Jew's-harp down 
 Piccadilly. You'll never turn a penny by it, 
 and you'll be the laughing-stock of your 
 friends. You're a better man than I am, 
 but I've seen better poets than either with 
 swollen livers and broken hearts. If you 
 could write pretty things and witty things, 
 and had a drawing-room tenor, you might 
 do; or if you'd fortune and title to back 
 your muse." 
 
 " I daresay you're right," said Heath. 
 
 " The day is getting too healthy for 
 poetry." 
 
 Mr. Brom entered into same half playful 
 abuse of poetry. It was a lazy, retro- 
 spective art, a dyspepsia of memories and 
 fancies; and mindful that he was talking 
 to a surgeon, he pronounced an Age of 
 poetry to be hydrocephalous.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 277 
 
 " There's a grandiloquent definition, Jem. 
 Poetry is the lazy venous blood returning 
 useless to the auricles. Science, Sir, is the 
 bright arterial blood springing forth from 
 the ventricles to nourish the frame. Come 
 now, confess,'' he jested on, " Brooks don't 
 sing, though every songster assures us they 
 do ; the wind has no wings, 'tis only par- 
 donably untrue to assert it : but," said he, 
 with sudden fire, "you may take your 
 oath, and so may I, that a cubic foot 
 of good rain water will beat out four 
 Flemish horses at a draught — there's a fact ! 
 Come here, Jemmy; look out there. Ten 
 or twelve miles away is a great brown 
 quagmire." 
 
 " I know its bearings," said Heath. 
 
 " Come, bring your poet's eye to bear on 
 it ; fancy a hundred tons of goods and life 
 training away over the moss, leaving a 
 grey tress of steam a mile behind ; can't you 
 hear it? A race-horse, Sir, made out of 
 a small barrel boiler and a few bushels of 
 coal. Don't fancy we stop at this scrap of a 
 
 T 3
 
 278 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 line ; look at the parallels on this globe, we'll 
 realize them with iron rails." 
 
 So on he declaimed upon the great railway 
 project, to which he had sold himself, heart 
 and soul. Never man lived more enthu- 
 siastically in the future. 
 
 He apologised again, and accused himself 
 of lecturing his friend. It might seem as 
 if he were lording it over him by title of 
 his experience and success, but he did not 
 mean it so ; he only wished to stimulate him 
 to the same exertions which had succeeded 
 with himself, instead of stagnating in this 
 corner, and forgetting the great end of life. 
 
 " Perhaps you and I have different no- 
 tions of the great end of life, John." 
 
 "What's your notion, Jem? Might I 
 suggest the doctor's daughter? " 
 
 "I think," said Heath, warmly, "the 
 man who can earn his own respect, who 
 tells truth, and who is the same through 
 good report and evil report, has attained 
 the great end of life. I confess I would 
 fain follow ambition and pleasure more, but 
 I strive after the other."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 279 
 
 He spoke with such honest eyes that 
 Mr. Brom, forgetful again of suspicion, 
 said warmly : 
 
 " I really believe, Jem, you are as likely 
 a man to attain that end as any I know, 
 upon my soul I do." 
 
 Heath shook his head and smiled. 
 
 After a short pause, Mr. Brom said, 
 laughing, " Now then I've had my say, and 
 you've had yours ; tell us something of this 
 shy bird, Miss Tern, will you? With all 
 her talent and attraction, why is she such 
 a stranger in the neighbourhood? Is it 
 the fault of her friends or her own?" 
 
 " She's a poor doctor's daughter." 
 
 " Why, won't she accept an invitation to 
 tea?" continued Mr. Brom, with a sly vein 
 of mischief. 
 
 " She is very shy." 
 
 " She must be a very peculiar character, 
 from all I've heard." 
 
 " Not at all " said Heath, sharply, " she's 
 shy, inexperienced, nervous ; that's not un- 
 common." 
 
 "I'll tell you what is uncommon. I 
 
 T 4
 
 280 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 heard her touch on the piano the other day 
 from the gravel, and it was enchanting." 
 
 " She's well taught. I know nothing of 
 music," said the surly Surgeon. " She's a 
 better calling now, and one which I can 
 appreciate." 
 
 " And what may that be?" 
 
 " Oh ! we are poor, man ; never pull aside 
 the patched cloak." 
 
 u We! how you identify yourself with 
 her, Jemmy!" 
 
 " So I ought, so I ought." Heath rose 
 abruptly. 
 
 " I'll come to tea to-night, Jamie," said 
 Mr. Brom, in jest, "if it would not be a 
 liberty." 
 
 "Well, what do you think? Something 
 like one. Ellen has no matron, and I 
 cannot bring in my gentleman friends at 
 pleasure ; but come to my room, and I pro- 
 mise you a hearty welcome." 
 
 u I'll be with you at eight." 
 
 " Stay, don't come to-night; I forgot; I 
 shall be out till ten or eleven. Come any 
 night."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 281 
 
 "Well, Sir," laughed Mr. Brom, "I'll 
 worry you no more, and have to thank you 
 for the put-off courteous — a general invi- 
 tation." 
 
 " I should have supposed you were too 
 busy just now," said Heath, remembering 
 himself. 
 
 Mr. Brom burst out into a good-natured 
 fit of laughter, and Heath perceived that 
 he had allowed himself to be trotted out. 
 The parting of the two friends had a touch 
 of bathos in it. The estrangement of years 
 is not to be built up by one generous im- 
 pulse, though an angry word may have 
 wrought the breach.
 
 282 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 CHAP. XXVI. 
 
 DR. TERN. 
 
 Mr. Brom kept a journal. I find one or 
 two hasty jottings in it at this most anxious 
 period of suspense, which, peeping out 
 amid the mass of dry business matter, seem 
 to me like pansies on a sand-hill. 
 
 " Augt. 12. — Greatly interested in Ellen 
 Tern, the old doctor's daughter. Told that 
 she cares for me and my fortunes. 
 
 " Augt. 30. — Met my shy little votary in 
 the street, but could not catch her eye. She 
 coloured under my gaze, which was, I dare 
 say, rude enough. 
 
 " Sept. 2nd. — James Heath called ; can't 
 believe him to be the schemer his conduct 
 would argue — a perfect Cerberus on the sub- 
 ject of my young votary— greatly amused.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 283 
 
 u Sept. 13th. — Since James Heath 1 s pro- 
 fessions to me he has been five times to call 
 upon her ladyship! What am I to make 
 of this?" 
 
 These fragments are suggestive of an 
 impression having been made on his mind. 
 Amid all his cares, it seemed he found time 
 to give a thought to his votary. 
 
 About the middle of September, we have 
 the following passage drily couched, and 
 without a note of triumph : 
 
 "Done with this squeamish work at last, 
 thank God! — elected by a small majority; 
 never engaged in a task more opposed to my 
 taste and feelings. A winner canH pick his 
 steps ; now for London, ho ! for the few days 
 before Parliament breaks up." 
 
 When he returned to Lower Weston, 
 with a comparatively disengaged mind, he 
 gave himself up to the completion of his 
 history, and we have many notes of his 
 progress, such as, " Wrote ten pages before 
 breakfast. Am advised to publish the vo- 
 lume myself ; but where am I to find the 
 funds? Begin to see land at length" he 
 writes, u wrote thirty pages this day"
 
 284 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Wednesday. — Sick and idle — called at 
 Grauwacke Lodge. Strange, cannot get a 
 glimpse of my queer little ' amie incon- 
 nue.' " 
 
 His interest in Ellen Tern prompted him 
 to make some efforts to know her, and at 
 first he seems to have supposed it could be 
 easily accomplished. 
 
 As a simple means, he induced his 
 mother to give a little musical party, and 
 to send invitations to Miss Wright, her 
 aunt, and Ellen Tern. The two former 
 very readily accepted, but a note came 
 from the latter, written in small pale cha- 
 racters, refusing, on the ground that she 
 never went out. I dare say the poor girl 
 had no evening dress. 
 
 Upon the evening of this little party, Mr. 
 Brom drew Miss Wright aside, and, sitting 
 beside her, cross-examined her half play- 
 fully, about her pretty comrade's ways and 
 notions. He gathered some very gratifying 
 accounts, further proving the amusing sym- 
 pathy of Ellen with him and his career. 
 " But not a word to her, Mr. Brom, about
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 285 
 
 all this, or she never would forgive me, nor 
 the Surgeon either." 
 
 A few evenings after he called at Grau- 
 wacke Lodge with books he had promised 
 to lend Miss Wright, but he did not meet 
 Miss Tern, could not catch even the flirt 
 of her grey gown. 
 
 One dull morning, oblivious of such idle- 
 ness, he was hastening down the walk by 
 the poplars, and thinking he was out of 
 human ken, was carried by fancy to the 
 House of Commons. He harangued the 
 listening trees, sawing the air with his long 
 arms. 
 
 Beyond a jutting orchard wall, round 
 which the path doubled, he was brushed 
 by a slight figure, and looking round he 
 recognised Ellen ; but she walked on quickly 
 and never turned. He stood watching her 
 till she vanished in the trees. 
 
 His curiosity to know her almost grew to 
 longing. What were these difficulties ? He 
 had often lounged by haughty city beauties ; 
 he had stood by Miss Stephens behind the 
 scenes; chatted with Lady Morgan; con-
 
 286 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 versed with Miss Edgeworth, ay, and once 
 stood the battue of Madame de Stael, that 
 a whirlwind in petticoats," yet he failed in 
 every attempt at intimacy with a poor 
 doctor's daughter, who admires and yet 
 shuns him. 
 
 It was curious that a* mind so occupied 
 with manly effort and hope should dally 
 over a piece of idleness like this ; but vanity 
 is a trout which can be caught by tickling. 
 
 Napoleon, deaf to grovelling monarch s, 
 was won to smile by a compliment to his 
 dimpled hands. There's a high precedent ! 
 My aged Lord Judge, impervious to the 
 unanimous farewell eulogium of the bar 
 upon his contemplated retirement, is quite 
 flattered by his crier, who remarks upon 
 the rickety activity of the old man stepping 
 out of his carriage. 
 
 An humble yet more rational instance 
 than these, was Mr. Brum brooding over 
 the sympathy he had awakened in this 
 pretty worshipper of his rising sun. 
 
 He had Heath over to his house and gave 
 him a little supper ; and in the course of
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 287 
 
 their conversation told him he would go 
 over to him on any evening he might fix, 
 and see him in his old shop. Heath readily- 
 fixed an evening ; Mr. Brom determined to 
 effect his acquaintance with Ellen by a 
 coup de main. 
 
 Upon the evening appointed, he set out 
 full of his little designs. He had no dis- 
 tinct intentions of mischief, certainly ; and 
 to do his friend Heath an injury was far 
 from him. But the opposition he had met, 
 the mystification, and the retorts of his 
 jealous friend piqued him, and were highly 
 provocative; and to Mr. Brom's mood of 
 mind, quite in the light of challenge. 
 
 There was a strong southerly storm 
 whisking across the country, which hustled 
 him from his path continually; often he 
 would pause with flapping cloak to let its 
 strong rush go by. The elms around 
 Grauwacke Lodge were tossing their arms 
 towards him, in wild deprecation or warn- 
 ing, as if they could cry, " Go back, go 
 back?" 
 
 Heath received him at the hall door, and
 
 288 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 whilst the former was securing the latch, 
 Mr. Brom walked in determinately, and 
 opened the parlour door. 
 
 "Where are you going, John? That's 
 not the way ! " 
 
 " I want to see Miss Wright," said Mr. 
 Brom, carelessly. " Are the ladies at home?" 
 
 " It is well they are not," said Heath, with 
 his dry laugh, " Miss Tern would have been 
 startled by your apparition at such an hour. 
 Come, you are my guest, not hers." 
 
 Mr. Brom affected good humour, but he 
 was vexed ; he found that he had become 
 absolutely anxious to meet Miss Tern, and 
 perceived that Heath had selected this night, 
 when she happened to be absent, for his hos- 
 pitality. Why should Heath be jealous of 
 him? Why should that little smile sit on 
 his cheek when he witnessed his (Mr. B's) 
 disappointment? Let Heath take care there 
 be not real cause of jealousy before long! 
 The idleness of his longing was growing to 
 earnest. He had been three weeks at home, 
 noticed and even nattered by all around, 
 and he began to feel indifferent to them all
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 289 
 
 until he should win Miss Tern to know 
 him. It is thus that pampered human 
 nature will still turn perversely from its 
 many possessions to hanker after the poor 
 man's pet lamb. 
 
 Mr. Brom was led into a large plain 
 room. It seemed as if the furniture of a 
 snug little closet had been let out and mis- 
 laid, as it were, through its dusky area. 
 The carpet was a mere drugget in the cen- 
 tre of the room ; there were shelves of bot- 
 tles in one recess, in the. other was a bed, 
 lately tossed as by a noon-day sleep : a fine 
 fire glowed in the grate and was built high 
 above it ; before it was a table with glasses, 
 bottles, and a large dish of oysters. 
 
 Mr. Brom recovered his good humour to 
 all appearance, and approved of these ar- 
 rangements. 
 
 " The oysters almost compensate for the 
 ladies we have lost, and it will be easier to 
 make them open their lips than a young 
 lady I wot of," said he, sociably taking his 
 seat ; " and where have they gone this wild 
 night?" 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " To Sir Robin's ; he sent his carriage for 
 them." 
 
 " Oh, then Miss Tern makes him an ex- 
 ception?" 
 
 " Yes, of course. He is one of her oldest 
 friends. This is hollands ; I don't anwer 
 for the flavour of the oysters, but they are 
 big and fresh." 
 
 Mr. Brom busied himself for some 
 moments in covering his plate with open 
 oysters; presently he paused in his task 
 and said, quietly, " So if I had just dropped 
 in on my brother magistrate to-night, I'd 
 have caught them at last." 
 
 "Let me suggest to you, John, if you 
 are so anxious to know Miss Tern, to meet 
 her at the church door. I'm sure you can 
 induce Miss Wright to introduce you rather 
 than see you so unhappy." 
 
 u Well, I'll do so. I want to hear her 
 play again, and to talk with her upon 
 music, with your permission." 
 
 "Well, see if you can manage it. I'm 
 so circumstanced here that I feel consider- 
 able delicacy in asking my friends in at
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 291 
 
 all. You know Miss Tern has no matron 
 or regular protector, and it would not 
 be quite discreet, perhaps, having strange 
 gentlemen to tea. You understand all 
 that, John, I am sure, or you will if you 
 reflect." 
 
 " What do you think of my old friend, 
 Miss Wright ? She's a queer random Moll, 
 is she not?" 
 
 " I begin to like her ; she's a good- 
 natured girl." 
 
 M Take care of her bright eyes, Jemmy ; 
 I suspect they've made an impression upon 
 you already." 
 
 " They are dangerous, I confess." 
 
 " Now fancy her pretty little face a fix- 
 ture here by the hearth, laughing over at 
 you, — instead of my mahogany counte- 
 nance." 
 
 " Don't put such ideas into a poor man's 
 head. You want to make me discon- 
 tented." 
 
 "What! I tell you, man, her aunt has 
 money, and will leave her every penny at 
 her death ; she's the very mark for a poor 
 
 u 2
 
 292 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 man. Her aunt has lots of money; per- 
 haps, Jem, when I was scolding you the 
 other day for living in this corner, you 
 were laughing in your sleeve at me, 
 hugging yourself on this snug little pros- 
 pect." 
 
 Heath listened reflectively. 
 
 "All I can say is this," said Mr. Brom, 
 gravely, " if you care for her, as I half 
 suspect you do, I firmly believe she'll make 
 an excellent wife without any love or folly." 
 
 " Provided, of course," said Heath, " that 
 she cared for me." 
 
 " Believe me, girls of her standing — she's 
 near five-and-twenty — can care for any one 
 they find it prudent to care for." 
 
 "And why cannot Miss Wright love?" 
 
 "Mary? to Tell you the truth, Jemmy, 
 she's not much depth, very little passion 
 in her nature." 
 
 Still Heath listened reflectively. 
 
 " Plenty of heartiness about her, but no 
 sentiment; above all she'll have money." 
 
 " You harp on the money like Iago. 
 Well, I'll think over your advice."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 293 
 
 The night had fallen without, and was 
 black as pitch. It was blowing a gale, 
 and the old house strained like a hulk, but 
 all was cheerful by the fire here, and Mr. 
 Brom's spirits rose. 
 
 " John, I'm sorry to say I may receive a 
 call at any hour to Mrs. Conroid. If I 
 have to go I may be away some hours." 
 
 "A nice evening altogether you selected 
 for our meeting. Now I'm here and in 
 comfortable shelter, I'm hanged if I stir 
 from this till you come back." 
 
 u Oh, well, you're right; the room's your 
 own, my dear fellow." 
 
 Then came a violent ringing to the door, 
 and Heath rose. 
 
 " There's the call for me," he said. " Com- 
 fort yourself against the ghosts, John; if 
 you get sleepy there's my bed at your ser- 
 vice for a stretch." 
 
 " I dare say I'll take a doze where I am, 
 Jem. Take care of yourself, old fellow, I 
 don't envy you." 
 
 Heath got up, put on his heavy coat and 
 worsted comforter; then, standing in the
 
 294 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 middle of the room, he made a very strange 
 and uncalled-for speech. It came quite 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Did I lead you, by my manner to- 
 night, to suppose I was attracted by Miss 
 Wright?" 
 
 Mr. Brom stared round at him. 
 
 " Eh ! Yes ; certainly you did. It's no 
 great matter, I suppose, whether you are 
 or not." 
 
 "'Twas an untruth; I was deceiving 
 you." 
 
 " Were you? Well, I honour your scru- 
 ple in telling truth, and why were you 
 deceiving me, Jem, on such a trifle?" 
 
 Heath opened the door, regardless of his 
 question, and left him. 
 
 u So you were deceiving me, Jem. I 
 knew that as well as yourself. Queer, that 
 my friend Heath, whilst confessing one 
 trick, should be planning another. That 
 over-scrupulousness makes me distrust a 
 man. If Jem Heath had been honest 
 with me from the beginning he'd have 
 fettered me effectually, but as it is, I'm
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 295 
 
 quite justified in effecting a little flir- 
 tation here if I'm able/' 
 
 He was left alone. He kicked the red 
 logs with his heel, and they fell together, 
 sending up fantasias of sparks. The old 
 chimney sounded like a trombone. Sad and 
 solemn was the wail of its throat. Mr. 
 Brom glanced round the room ; it was wide 
 and high, probably the largest in the house. 
 Heath's bed was in the gloom by the far 
 window, and was unmade since the doctor 
 had taken a mid-day sleep after his night 
 watches by Mrs. Conroid ; the sheet hung 
 over the side like an outstretched leg, the 
 bolster lay slanting across the bed like a 
 figure stretched in rigor mortis. Hush! 
 what's that faint sound? Living sounds, 
 be they faint as a watch's tick, are audible 
 in the inanimate roar of nature. What 
 shadow skims the ceiling? 
 
 "It is only a bat," murmured he, relieved. 
 
 The window sashes were making an in- 
 fernal rattle, as if ruffians had climbed to 
 the sill and were resolved to enter ; now a 
 rapid shake testing their strength, then a 
 
 u 4
 
 296 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 wrench and furious crash, with a trumpet 
 summons to surrender. It was only the 
 hundred-handed wind. 
 
 He got up and forced little wedges of 
 stick between the sashes; for though his 
 reason ridiculed the momentary alarm, 
 yet each rush and row came so unexpect- 
 edly that it set his heart beating. Then 
 he sat down and finished his tumbler at a 
 draught. 
 
 Now the windows were more orderly, 
 Mr. Brom began to feel a gentle reassur- 
 ance, a complacent valour mingling in his 
 veins. He trimmed the lamp, he brought 
 his chair round to the far side of the fire 
 so as to face the door, and he was comfort- 
 able enough to build fancies. 
 
 There is no subtle stenography to fix the 
 mind's desultory journal, and it is well, for 
 then should we have attached to the dry 
 memoirs of what our friends can collect of 
 us, a frivolous scribble of monstrous vani- 
 ties, — of silly repinings, of feeble covetous- 
 ness , unlovely thoughts, dogleaved from 
 use. Ay, and the tremulous characters of
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 297 
 
 bloatfaced vice most distinct and connected 
 of all. 
 
 Hark! was that the lifting of a latch 
 below? Draughts are coursing the house, 
 and doors are jarring. 'Tis only the hun- 
 dred-handed wind. 
 
 M Heath is bitter towards me, mused 
 he, which means he is jealous. I have 
 sometimes suspected she was attached to 
 him. I'll find out that. I'll push my way 
 cautiously. Strange she's familiar with no 
 one but him, and the housemaid, and old 
 Sir Robin. She's a girl of the most de- 
 termined principle; cold and unattract- 
 able, I fear. If she and I were in the Ork- 
 neys f6r a year picking shells all day long, 
 which of us would tire of the other first?" 
 
 The punch and the fire, and haply the 
 tempest lullaby, began to tell on him at 
 last; he grew drowsy and blinked — he 
 nodded — woke up — he bowed solemnly — 
 and slept. 
 
 The storm came through his dreams 
 with a chorus like Graff Brom's spectral 
 visitants. He dreamt he was gazing at
 
 298 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Heath's bed, and what he thought to be 
 the bolster sat up a stark figure and tum- 
 bled lumpishly on the boards. Then he 
 felt it was behind him ; some squat figure. 
 He could not stir„ It was singing some 
 odd burden feebly, and bending as though 
 it would fall over him. 
 
 Whoop ! 
 
 There came a roar in his ear would wake 
 the dead ; he doubled together with terror, 
 and awoke. 
 
 Above him, with naked legs apart, stood 
 an idiot giant. His senses were paralysed ; 
 he gazed up in fascination at the clayey 
 visage, hoping it was some nightmare, in 
 earnest hope the grotesque lineaments 
 would melt away. 
 
 The figure stood between him and the 
 hearth, soothed by the heat from the fire. 
 Tall and corpulent it was ; with a pair of 
 pillar-like legs, shaggy with red hair. Its 
 head was cropped short, giving a frightful 
 preponderence of face which had bloated 
 from disease and inactivity. The lips were 
 large, hanging, and grey, and the eyes
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 299 
 
 blinked slowly. There was a glass of raw 
 gin in the hand, which was presently gulped 
 off at a draught. 
 
 For a moment Mr. Brom was appalled. 
 Presence of mind and manhood returned 
 with memory. He gradually remembered 
 who his uncanny companion must be. He 
 had heard that Dr. Tern was not danger- 
 ous. The fact was of some moment to him 
 now. Ugly thing and quite absurd if 
 this madman were to seize yon knife, and 
 — Mr. Brom felt by no means comfortable, 
 but he was not a coward; with a steady 
 hand he seized the knife and put it out of 
 sight. 
 
 " Dr. Tern," he said, fixing a bold eye 
 upon his companion, " you ought not to be 
 here ; you must return to your room." 
 
 His visitor approached him — Mr. Brom 
 strung his muscles for a struggle ; but old 
 Tern heeded him not — his eye was riveted 
 on the table. 
 
 Before Mr. Brom could interfere, he had 
 snatched up the bottle of gin, and skipped 
 away with it to Heath's chair, with an un-
 
 300 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 expected activity. He hastily splashed out 
 a glassful, and took a gulp which swelled 
 his grizzled throat ; menacing at Mr. Brom 
 over the glass. He filled out again. 
 
 Mr. Brom began to revolve the injury 
 the old fellow would receive from this in- 
 dulgence; he might kill himself. Though 
 naturally loth to a struggle, he felt it to 
 be his duty to restrain him, so he rose 
 quickly and laid a resolute hand on his 
 arm. Old Tern looked frightened, but 
 struggled for possession, and wailed like a 
 child, and pleaded tremulously; but Mr. 
 Brom was firm. Of a sudden the old 
 fellow took him a mallet blow in the chest, 
 which shook him cruelly: he sat down a 
 little sick to think of some expedient. 
 
 There was a mingling of the grotesque 
 and the ferocious in the whole scene — Mr. 
 Brom in great alarm for the old man, and 
 in some for himself; and old Silenus, hi- 
 deously jovial and triumphant, indifferent 
 to all things but his pleasure, his naked 
 legs striding out to the warmth, and his 
 fist, that stone weight . of flab curled up
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 301 
 
 upon the table. He gripped his glass once 
 a minute, and gulped down the raw gin 
 with great smacks of relish. 
 
 Brom had time to reflect how it had 
 all occurred. He had evidently escaped 
 from his dozing attendant, and prowled 
 down ; the door being open he had entered 
 noiselessly, and been attracted by the 
 glasses, which awoke the old lust, and 
 here he was quite harmless, tete-a-tete with 
 him. Mr. Brom assumed a gay pass-bottle 
 tone. 
 
 " Dr. Tern, I'll join you in a glass of 
 punch, if you'll push me the bottle," he 
 smiled, thinking to stop the supply. 
 
 The old giant shook his fist, and pointed 
 to the ceiling; this was the only effect of 
 Mr. Brom's advance; no hospitable gleam 
 was visible, but a certain dangerous red 
 began to mottle his forehead, and displace 
 the tallow hue. Mr. Brom was assailed 
 with misgiving : What will be the effect of 
 this raw stimulant on the dull brain? Will 
 it stupefy or inflame to ferocity? It was 
 an ugly experiment to watch.
 
 302 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 In fact a great change was coming over 
 old Tern. He was continually pressing his 
 forehead, or rubbing it violently with his 
 hand, and then glaring at the ceiling. He 
 was growing unpleasantly restless. Sud- 
 denly he broke forth with a stentorian 
 voice — 
 
 " What's to be done ? What's to be done, 
 now?" 
 
 The voice was so loud and vacant it 
 shocked Mr. Brom. 
 
 " The day is d — d long. I can't live 
 way." 
 
 He began trumpeting a tune, and pound- 
 ing the table in time. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Dr. Tern?" 
 said Mr. Brom. The pain of the blow was 
 still upon his chest. 
 
 The old man turned on him savagely. 
 " I have been dining out, Sir, and what 
 business is that of yours ? There's nothing 
 to be done, and nothing to be seen. I can't 
 live this way." He began trumpeting and 
 drumming again with renewed excitement. • 
 Mr. Brom would not interrupt him on any
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 303 
 
 account. Suddenly he stopped and looked 
 round upon his companion. 
 
 " I'll have my head weighed, hah!" 
 
 There was a long pause, as he stared 
 Mr. Brom down; his heavy breathing 
 rivalled the moans of the chimney. Then 
 he spoke very rapidly and loudly. 
 
 11 There's a lot of that rotten stuff thrown 
 over her, and she can't sleep sound; we 
 must remove it at once, at once ! at once ! " 
 He began trumpeting madly again. Sud- 
 denly his eye caught a case of lancets on 
 the chimney-piece, and seizing upon it, he 
 took out a lancet and examined it mutter- 
 ing. He looked up and caught Mr. Brom's 
 startled eye. 
 
 "Who are you? Who are you?" he 
 roared, "you d — d scoundrel, who are 
 you?" 
 
 " A particular friend, Dr. Tern," said 
 Mr. Brom, stoutly. He thought he would 
 try a little management this time. 
 
 " Are you a sexton?" 
 
 " Xo, my dear doctor, I'm a guest in 
 your house, and I expect you will treat me 
 kindly."
 
 304 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " All my friends are dead, and you've 
 stowed 'em away somewhere. Where did 
 you shelf old Peter, eh? — by G — ! you 
 shall account to me for them now, I've 
 caught you at last — d — d scoundrel !" 
 
 " If you wish it I'll help you to look for 
 your friends, Sir. I'm sure I could find 
 them." 
 
 " Eh ! " cried the other, breaking into a 
 fatuitous smile. " How does old Peter 
 look, eh? Lost all his teeth yet — getting 
 a belly — ha! — oh, my cursed head; I'll 
 have it weighed to-night, ha !" 
 
 " You shall see him, Doctor. I'll just 
 go down stairs to look for him." 
 
 " And you mean to tell me, you know 
 where Nan Crozier is ; and — and — I forget 
 the half o' them. Nan Crozier, eh ? 
 
 "They're all waiting for you below," 
 said Mr. Brum, eagerly. 
 
 "Now? Poor Nan. What! poor Nan 
 and little Johnny Atherton? I'll drop in 
 on Johnny to-night — Johnny was losing 
 his sight — ain't better by this." 
 
 Mr. Brom knew he . was raving of the
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 305 
 
 dead and gone. He determined to humour 
 him to the top of his bent, but as he was 
 about to speak an exclamation from the 
 lunatic again checked him; he had opened 
 lancet in the most business-like manner, 
 and was gazing at Mr. Brom with a very 
 unpleasant interest — a terrible interest. 
 
 The man will cut his own throat or 
 worse. What can be done? I wish to 
 heaven I'd left with Heath. He glanced 
 towards the poker as the only weapon 
 near him. Yet he was loath to injure the 
 old man. 
 
 u Head's too heavy — full of blood — full 
 of blood, Sir ; a ton weight on the brain — 
 open both arteries at once! at once! at 
 once ! " He rose slowly. 
 
 Mr. Brom sprang to his feet, caught the 
 old fellow's arm with both his hands and 
 shouted at the top of his voice. Old Tern 
 staggered for a moment, then wrenched 
 himself free with a howl, and grasping his 
 antagonists throat forced him back by a 
 crushing strength. Mr. Brom struggled 
 
 vol. I. x
 
 30G NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 manfully for a moment, — his brain swam, 
 and he sunk back helpless. The lamp had 
 fallen, and was shivered. 
 
 He was aware of a great opaque mass 
 between him and the fire, with a flourish- 
 ing arm, mimicked across the ceiling by its 
 huge shadow, — when suddenly it bounced 
 away into the middle of the room and ran 
 violently round it. 
 
 Mr. Brom strained his eyes and beheld 
 a weird sight. In full pursuit was a wizard- 
 like old man in his night-shirt, his snipe 
 head poked eagerly as he squeaked to his 
 burly patient to stop. Such a bump and 
 thump of naked feet, such jolly chuckles and 
 owl notes, never haunted room heard. 
 
 Silenus was pinned at last in a corner, 
 and the atomy whispered some magic words 
 in his ear; old Tern roared with laugh- 
 ter, and throwing his great arm round 
 his guardian he was led away. It was a 
 conquest of mind over matter. Mr. Brom 
 could hear the peals of laughter lessening 
 up the long stairs.
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 307 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. 
 
 STAUNCH. 
 
 Mr. Brom stood irresolutely staring towards 
 the door whence the grotesque pair had 
 issued ; whilst the danger was imminent, he 
 had acted with both courage and resolution ; 
 now he felt cowed; in fact, he felt very 
 strongly tempted to seize his cloak and cap, 
 and hurry home into security. The scene 
 which had just been enacted had much the 
 same effect on his mind as. a vivid night- 
 mare, linking itself, as it did, with oppressive 
 dreams. He feared to sit down again lest 
 he might possibly relapse into the same 
 helpless state, and the same hideous figures 
 hover above him again. His nerves were in 
 that high wrought state, that he contem- 
 plated his descent by the long dark passage 
 x 2
 
 308 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 with apprehensions lest the very banisters 
 should make a grasp at him. If he had 
 strong clear light to scrutinise around him, 
 he could have manned himself; but the 
 lamp lay in shivers upon the floor. 
 
 It was, therefore, much to his relief when 
 he heard a step, a good heavy, honest step, 
 hastening up the passage, with welcome 
 candle light, and he recognised the cook's 
 iigure at the door. 
 
 u Law ! Mr. Brom, haven't I been fright- 
 ened about you ; was the poor master down 
 to-night?" 
 
 "It's a deuced queer house," thought 
 Mr. Brum ; M this woman seems to consider 
 such a scene as I've just gone through, as 
 quite an ordinary domestic occurrence," 
 then aloud : " A large naked gentleman has 
 been down here, my good woman ; if that's 
 the master, I devoutly hope I'll never see 
 him again. He is very insufficiently secured, 
 very ! " 
 
 She laid the candle on the table and 
 looked round her, and looked in his face. 
 
 M Bless you, Mr. Brom, you look quite
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 309 
 
 sick! — see, see, — oh dear! oh dear! the 
 lamp broke, and the glasses all in smash ! 
 Bless your dear heart, Mr. Broni, you're 
 not hurt ! " 
 
 He gave her a somewhat better account 
 of the late eccentric proceedings of the mas- 
 ter, and very seriously questioned her as to 
 his present state of comfortable security. 
 
 " You see, the fact is, Mr. Brom, this 
 Medway, who takes care of him, is getting 
 old and wheezy, and is apt to fall asleep, 
 and then the master gives him the slip ; but 
 we never knew a case of his doing a mis- 
 chief before, further than give a screech by 
 way of fun, bless his poor heart, and we 
 al'ays locks the door at night, ye see." 
 
 Here a coachman's double knock at the 
 door below interrupted the good woman in 
 her tale. 
 
 " That's the ladies, Sir," said she; a beg 
 yer parding, Sir, till I let 'em in." 
 
 She bustled away with broken expres- 
 sions of condolence, and some reproof too 
 towards Mr. Medway, delivered in the form 
 of soliloquy. 
 
 i 3
 
 310 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 He heard the door open. He heard the 
 cook's loud tones giving a flaring account 
 of his adventure, and he heard the low 
 vows of the girl's sympathy with his dis- 
 tress. Then a vexed feeling took the place 
 of fear ; his manhood began to wince at the 
 absurdity of his position, and this compas- 
 sion for his alarm. As soon as he heard 
 the parlour door close, he threw his cloak 
 around him, and went down the passage 
 with a stout step, but a somewhat crest- 
 fallen dignity. 
 
 As he was passing the parlour door, Ellen 
 opened it, and came out to meet him, fol- 
 lowed by Miss Wright. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Mr. Brom, to hear what 
 has happened." 
 
 " Oh, dear Mr. Brom, you must have been 
 terrified," cried Miss Wright. 
 
 "But I can assure Mr. Brom," said 
 Ellen, " my poor father would not harm a 
 child ; I am so sorry you were alarmed." 
 
 Mr. Brom was a little ashamed and vexed 
 by all this; he concealed his chagrin and 
 smiled. " Pray don't distress yourself about
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 311 
 
 the matter," said he, " I see your servant 
 has exaggerated it absurdly. I'm not the 
 least alarmed in life. You've had a wild 
 drive home, Miss Tern ; I thought once or 
 twice to-night the old house would come 
 down." 
 
 Mr. Brom's pale cheek and torn coat were 
 very observable. 
 
 The ladies both remarked these tokens 
 of a struggle with uneasiness, and would 
 persist in their mortifying tone of re-as- 
 surance. Ellen, addressing Miss Wright, 
 blamed James Heath very much for leaving 
 Mr. Brum alone ; and Miss Wright proposed 
 that he should be brought in, made sit down, 
 and a glass of wine administered. 
 
 The fact was, though Mr. Brom showed 
 a light and careless front, his manner was 
 subdued ; his voice would falter ; that old 
 man upstairs had made nothing of his 
 slight frame, and he felt the grasp on his 
 throat yet. 
 
 u He has been hurt," whispered Miss 
 Wright. 
 
 " Pray come in, Mr. Brum," said Ellen, 
 
 x 4
 
 312 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 forgetting her shyness, " sit down for a few 
 moments and rest : I am so sorry." 
 
 " Well, I shall come in since you are so 
 kind, but I can assure you I have little 
 need of rest ; I've been dozing all the night 
 since Jem Heath left me. Well, since you 
 are so kind, I'll just have a warm at your 
 fire before I face the night." 
 
 Ellen held the door open for him and 
 showed him in ; Miss Wright placed a chair 
 for him, and stirred up the fire ; suddenly 
 she caught his wrist. 
 
 u My gracious, look here, Ellen ! How 
 his poor hand is cut ; oh, this is sad work ! 
 Now you must show it." 
 
 Ellen hastened over, and saw with dismay 
 that Mr. Brom's hand was disfigured down 
 the back and over two fingers by a long, 
 sharp cut, which he had been concealing in 
 his handkerchief. 
 
 a Mr. Brom, he — he did not do that, I 
 hope?" 
 
 u Indeed, he did not ; it's a mere skin- 
 deep scratch. The fact is, I made an effort 
 to prevent him from drinking, fearing it
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 313 
 
 might harm him, and we broke a glass 
 between us ; that was all." 
 
 Ellen wished to believe him. 
 
 " Is that all ? I am so glad. Oh, Mr. 
 Brom ! he is quite, quite harmless." 
 
 She hastened to a press, and took out a 
 little roll of plaister which Surgeon Heath 
 had left with her ; then she came over with 
 the same solicitous step and made as if she 
 would bind up the hand herself, but with 
 sudden shyness she gave it to Miss Wright, 
 who neatly closed the wound, and bound 
 up the cut as cleverly as a hospital nurse, 
 sewing the bandage firm. 
 
 Ellen innocently offered Mr. Brom a 
 glass of wine, which he refused, having had 
 a sufficiency of that kind of solace already. 
 So Ellen withdrew from her advanced po- 
 sition, and sat a little apart. 
 
 Mr. Medway's snipe head was slowly 
 intruded at the door, and he beckoned 
 Ellen outside. She went upstairs with him, 
 leaving Mr. Brom and Miss Wright in lively 
 chat, and when she returned she was agi- 
 tated, and seemed to think far more seriously
 
 314 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 of the occurrence. Mr. Brom asked her, 
 with quiet undemonstrative kindness, how 
 the poor old gentleman was now. 
 
 11 He is asleep, thank you ; but, Mr. 
 Brom, you've had really such an escape — 
 I've heard the true story now." 
 
 " No, no, I can assure you my only fear 
 was that he might injure himself." 
 
 a You've had a struggle ; he might have 
 killed you with a lancet." 
 
 Mr. Brum laughed. 
 
 " I've heard of making one's quietus with 
 a bodkin, but killing one with a lancet would 
 be a very deliberate operation. He was, 
 indeed, a little violent. I had not full 
 powers of self-defence, you know, lest I 
 might injure the poor old gentleman. I 
 declare you've quite eased my mind about 
 him." 
 
 Ellen felt almost grateful to Mr. Brom for 
 the moment. He really put the matter in 
 the very least painful light. She began to 
 think Mr. Brom a very considerate, amiable 
 man. We also must allow that he showed 
 some very excusable acuteness. His sub-
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 315 
 
 dued manner was also to his advantage ; 
 no forwardness, no presumption, and that 
 gentle decision of eye and phrase which is 
 so reassuring to a reserved person. His 
 alarmed appearance was now capable of a 
 very amiable construction. He really 
 seemed to care more for her father's safety 
 than his own. She felt she owed him 
 special civility for the distress he had 
 undergone, as it was, in a large measure, 
 for her father's sake. 
 
 Mr. Brom allowed them to dwell upon 
 his peril no longer, he grew very agreeable, 
 addressing himself chiefly to Miss Wright. 
 Nothing is so convenient as a conversing 
 medium when you want to fascinate a 
 reserved acquaintance. There need be no 
 embarrassment, no hazard; you may trot 
 yourself out in your most familiar and 
 engaging style. He spoke of music and 
 musical people, the extreme difficulty of 
 managing them when brought together, 
 their amusing jealousies and various powers. 
 Ellen caught the interest, and threw herself 
 into the conversation almost unwittingly.
 
 316 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 He gave a whimsical account of a public 
 lecture upon music which he once gave in 
 a country town, and was a little surprised 
 to see Miss Wright and Ellen looking sig- 
 nificantly at one another, and a signal pass 
 between them. 
 
 " Do you know Miss Drew, Mr. Brum ? " 
 said Miss Wright, as he paused. 
 
 " As a public character I do," he said, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Well, Ellen is in great distress about 
 her ; she is going to give a public lecture 
 in Exeter upon Law Reform, and of course 
 will bear heavily upon all her private 
 wrongs. She is Ellen's aunt, you know." 
 
 " So I understand," said Mr. Brom, all 
 attention. 
 
 " It would be so unpleasant. Do you 
 think she could possibly be hindered ? We 
 intended getting Surgeon Heath to inter- 
 fere in some way, but may be you might 
 have more power." 
 
 Mr. Brom pondered. 
 
 u I think I could manage it ; I'm sure 
 I could manage it. Yes, it would really be
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 317 
 
 a sad scandal. We must do it without 
 giving the poor woman any offence." 
 
 " Do you think you could stop her, Mr. 
 Brom," said Ellen, eagerly, "and without 
 offence ? " 
 
 " You know, Miss Tern, 4 1 am a dignitary 
 in the country," he said, laughing, "and 
 am vested with high powers. I think I've 
 hit upon a plan. Miss Drew shall receive 
 no further annoyance than the trifling dis- 
 appointment ; she shall scarcely know what 
 restrains her, or from whence her impedi- 
 ments arise. Further, all the poor woman's 
 tickets shall be bought up." 
 
 This was taking a position of some im- 
 portance in Grauwacke Lodge ; Mr. Brom 
 had been elected an ally and friend. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Brom ! I should be so grateful," 
 cried Ellen. 
 
 " Come, now, we'll plan the whole thing 
 before I leave this. Let us all draw in to 
 the fire." 
 
 Ellen drew in her seat, having Miss 
 Wright between, and their two pairs of 
 bright eyes turned full on him.
 
 318 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 He opened his intentions, and very plau- 
 sible intentions they were, taking the ob- 
 jections and amendments of his two pretty 
 companions as they came, betraying them 
 now and then into a chorus of laughter as 
 he made some insidious, yet not disrespect- 
 ful, sally at Aunt Bell's expense. He could 
 detect the secret admiration of his votary, 
 betrayed in her eager gaze. To country ears 
 there is nothing so bewitching as a fashion- 
 able, worldly tongue ; it trips on so heartily, 
 setting the timid at their ease, tempting the 
 diffident rustic snail to put out its horns; 
 that tongue, so simple, tractable, joyous; 
 those eyes and lips, which smile with all; 
 that blending manner ; that air of graceful, 
 mellow humility. 
 
 When this conversation was at the snug- 
 gest — Ellen thawed, and pleased and 
 grateful — at this pleasant moment James 
 Heath came in upon them, and stood at the 
 door wonder-struck. 
 
 " Jemmy," said Ellen, " here's Mr. Brom 
 has promised to hinder Aunt Bell from her 
 lecture, and do you know, we've made up 
 between us quite a likely *plan."
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 319 
 
 " Oh! it's near one o'clock." 
 
 " Sit down, sit down, Surgeon Heath," 
 cried Miss Wright. " Oh ! and we've a 
 crow to pluck with you. Why did you 
 leave Mr. Brom alone ? " 
 
 " No, no, Miss Wright," said Mr. Brom, 
 hastily, " I cannot have a word more said 
 about that affair. I ought to be grateful 
 to him, for I owe him the very pleasant 
 hour I have spent here." 
 
 Mr. Brom then stated to his friend the 
 arrangement they had been making in 
 cabinet council ; the fine spark of tri- 
 umph shining in his eye as now and then 
 he directed at Ellen some little comment, 
 gently arch, to make her smile. 
 
 " I thought," said Heath, gloomily, ad- 
 dressing Ellen, "that you asked me to 
 undertake this ? " 
 
 " Yes, but Jemmy, you seemed to doubt 
 your success." 
 
 " I very much doubt the success of this ar- 
 rangement, certainly; " and he ungraciously 
 combated point after point, still gaily 
 retorted upon by happy Mr. Brom, who
 
 320 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 had every advantage over him, both in 
 temper, facts, and argument. 
 
 " Have it so," said Heath, at last, " but 
 remember I warn you, what you are going 
 to do will make the poor woman a laughing- 
 stock to the whole county." 
 
 " But how much more so, Jemmy," mur- 
 mured Ellen, "if she be allowed to lec- 
 ture?" 
 
 " Oh ! since you're against me " — he 
 stopped. 
 
 " Miss Tern is not against you, Jem, but 
 you are at bay, and charging friends and 
 foes," laughed Mr. Brum, with the slightest 
 triumphant jar in that laugh, which none 
 but a wounded ear could catch. 
 
 Ellen caught it, she turned to the old 
 friend ; she would not have him trampled 
 over. 
 
 If a woman would win a man's love, his 
 worship, such moments as these are pre- 
 cious. Let them scarcely note his smooth, 
 gay hours ; in such trifling moments as 
 this, when pride is writhing, they can turn 
 a rivet in his heart which he will think
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 321 
 
 of, and think of, and never forget — by the 
 touch of staunchness. 
 
 Her smile for Mr. Brom faded away, she 
 understood it all with true woman's instinct, 
 and turned to the old friend; he should 
 have everything as he wished ; of course 
 she should be guided by him. With 
 lowered voice she told him how the evening 
 had gone by at Sir Robin's; and she had 
 not been talking long to him till his was 
 the proudest heart there. 
 
 Presently Ellen slipt out of the room, 
 without a good night ; 'twas unladylike, 
 perhaps, but there was a touch of staunch- 
 ness in that too. This being the case, Mr. 
 Brom soon got up to go, and Heath showed 
 him to the door in high good-humour, and 
 above the slightest display of triumph. 
 
 " I think your plan might do after all, 
 John; it is worth a trial. Good night;" 
 and they shook hands with seeming friend- 
 liness. 
 
 "He is quite different from what I 
 thought," said Ellen, when Miss Wright 
 and she met next day. 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 u Of course you are pleasantly surprised." 
 
 u He don't frighten one," said Ellen. 
 " We got to know him so quickly. How 
 different he is from what I fancied !" 
 
 " Yes, I know. Your idea was a great 
 grave man, with a shirt front of hot-pressed 
 foolscap, a phrensied eye, a pen caught in 
 his hair, and talking big book all the day." 
 
 u He's very agreeable, certainly." 
 
 " And very clever," said Miss Wright. 
 
 " Don't you think he might be a little 
 graver?" 
 
 "And don't you think him handsome, 
 you young Puritan?" 
 
 U I don't know how it is — better not 
 know people you've been taught to respect. 
 Perhaps I like him better now." 
 
 " Than when you didn't know him ; well, 
 that's intelligible at least. And which was 
 it, your regard for him or your respect for 
 him, made you so rude last night?" 
 
 Miss Wright was angry with Ellen for 
 her conduct towards Mr. Brom on that 
 night; she called it capricious and rude. 
 It must surely have puzzled him who had
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 323 
 
 a moment before been so zealous to do her 
 a service. Ellen seldom attempted self- 
 defence, and was habitually silent upon 
 her motives. It was amazing (as being a 
 woman) how placidly she could sit under 
 such accusations till they went by, not 
 really unmoved perhaps, for sometimes — 
 the fire kindled. 
 
 " Mr. Brom has been for a long time 
 anxious to know you. He is so fond of 
 music, and has heard so much about you 
 to respect and like, and it is really ridicu- 
 lous that Surgeon Heath should be allowed 
 to select your acquaintance, and bully back 
 every one that comes near you who is the 
 least agreeable." 
 
 Ellen listened cheerfully. 
 
 "He calls Mr. Brom worldly, indeed. 
 I'd like to ask him what he is himself — 
 toadying old ladies for their money." 
 
 " Miss Wright, don't say that, it's not 
 true," said Ellen, offended. 
 
 Miss Wright altered her tone. 
 
 "Never mind what I say, Ellen, you 
 know I just rattle on what I feel ; but ain't 
 
 T -
 
 324 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 it strange, — I like Surgeon Heath so much 
 that I want some one to set me right, just 
 to help me out of my doubts. I would not 
 hear him slandered no more than yourself ; 
 but tell me, now we're alone, tell me really, 
 why he does himself such injustice with all 
 the country by these visits to Lady Bun- 
 bury every week ? Don't you know she is 
 not ill?" 
 
 " No, I don't." 
 
 " Well, her large and fashionable circle 
 know it, which is more to the purpose. Her 
 sister knows it, which settles the matter." 
 
 "Did Mrs. Brum tell you?" said Ellen, 
 with a keen look. 
 
 " No, but her son told me repeatedly, 
 and I suppose he knows his mother's mind. 
 Why, only listen to the way Surgeon Heath 
 talks himself, both in jest and earnest, always 
 talking of means and money, how he can 
 come by it." 
 
 " My dear Miss Wright," said Ellen, with 
 alarming sense, "money is a great object." 
 
 "We all admit that, but there's no oc- 
 casion for his blowing the trumpet about
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 325 
 
 it as he did at tea the other night when he 
 said — what's this he said that he was begin- 
 ning really to believe, at last, that money was 
 the proper background to all the virtues." 
 
 " If you won't allow him to speak his 
 real thoughts at home, it's a little hard 
 upon Jamie ; but now I see you watch his 
 idle angry words and judge his real feel- 
 ings by them. If you were judged so, Miss 
 Wright!" 
 
 " Well, his angry words at home, or my 
 thoughts about 'em, would do him little 
 harm. It's not that; — but he's losing cha- 
 racter in the country." 
 
 " And tell me this," cried Ellen, as if she 
 had stumbled upon her argument at last, 
 " what good does his acquaintance with 
 Lady Bunbury do him except a few fees?" 
 
 " Rich old ladies have sometimes a pretty 
 roll of parchment in their desks, with a seal 
 on it and a name inside it, which they some- 
 times tire of like a toy and put in a new one." 
 
 " That insinuation is a slander, whoever 
 says it, and I'll not be friends with any 
 one who believes it."
 
 32 G NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't, but it has gone about 
 the country. Mr. Brom has contradicted 
 it over and over, and has to fight his battle 
 wherever Mr. Heath's name is mentioned." 
 
 " Now then," said Ellen triumphantly, 
 " see there, all who know Jemmy best don't 
 believe a word of it." 
 
 " Well, all the more unfortunate that his 
 practice is spoilt by it. Why has he so 
 little practice?" 
 
 " Because, Miss Wright," said Ellen con- 
 fidentially, "I'm afraid he hasn't much 
 skill, nor perhaps much talent." 
 
 " Well, may be not ; just watch him and 
 listen to him, and you'll see he hasn't much 
 caution either," said Miss Wright, warmly. 
 
 " And that's enough to ruin him. All I 
 mean is this ; you ought to try to influence 
 him, Ellen. There's Mr. Brom doing his 
 very best to set him right everywhere." 
 
 " Mr. Brom is very good to every one ; I 
 hope he don't neglect himself," said Ellen, 
 — whether in irony or earnest Miss Wright 
 scarcely knew. 
 
 The next day Ellen scolded Surgeon 
 Heath after a fashion for his surliness, but
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 327 
 
 after a fashion so pleasant, that he strove to 
 prolong the scold. It ended something this 
 way. 
 
 " Oh ! you have plenty of excuses, I see, 
 but I'll only allow you one. Nothing but 
 the perishing you got on that open car 
 could excuse the bow-wow look you gave 
 us all when you came in before you heard 
 one word of our discussion. What made 
 you look so at poor Mr. Brom?" 
 
 As Heath hesitated, " Perhaps," said she, 
 helping him out, " you did not wish me to 
 know him?" 
 
 u I believe I did not," he answered, ho- 
 nestly. " But I have a jealous presentiment 
 he is come to break up our little circle at 
 last — a feeling that's not all selfish, Ellen." 
 
 " I make you an offer now, Jemmy," she 
 said quietly, " and it's due to you. If you 
 don't wish it, I'll not .know him. I have 
 — I have no wish to." 
 
 Heath had fondly striven to prevent this 
 intimacy ; and here was an honest offer to 
 set it aside ; to relieve him ever after from 
 fear and doubt ; but it struck him with 
 shame at his unmanliness — he felt selfish.
 
 328 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 " Know him, Ellen," he said, " for now I 
 am sure you will never let him inside an 
 old friend. " 
 
 a He is good-natured, certainly," said 
 Ellen. 
 
 " He is ; he is talented, and amusing, and 
 very good-natured. He and I have always 
 been hand friends for many years, if you 
 know what I mean by that." 
 
 " I can make a guess." 
 
 cc You must think me ungenerous, but it 
 will be a sore day to me when John Brom 
 becomes your friend." 
 
 u He shall never get farther than hand- 
 friendship with me," laughed Ellen. u But 
 you and I are heart-friends, if you know 
 what I mean by that." 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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