The Battle of Life................................................................................................................................................1

Charles Dickens.......................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER I Part The First ...................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II Part The Second ...........................................................................................................15

CHAPTER III Part The Third............................................................................................................36

Once upon a time, it matters little when, and in stalwart England, it matters little where, a fierce battle was

fought. It was fought upon a long summer day when the waving grass was green. Many a wild flower formed

by the Almighty Hand to be a perfumed goblet for the dew, felt its enamelled cup filled high with blood that

day, and shrinking dropped. Many an insect deriving its delicate colour from harmless leaves and herbs, was

stained anew that day by dying men, and marked its frightened way with an unnatural track. The painted

butterfly took blood into the air upon the edges of its wings. The stream ran red. The trodden ground became

a quagmire, whence, from sullen pools collected in the prints of human feet and horses' hoofs, the one

Heaven keep us from a knowledge of the sights the moon beheld upon that field, when, coming up above the

black line of distant rising ground, softened and blurred at the edge by trees, she rose into the sky and

looked upon the plain, strewn with upturned faces that had once at mothers' breasts sought mothers' eyes, or

slumbered happily. Heaven keep us from a knowledge of the secrets whispered afterwards upon the tainted

wind that blew across the scene of that day's work and that night's death and suffering! Many a lonely moon

was bright upon the battleground, and many a star kept mournful watch upon it, and many a wind from

every quarter of the earth blew over it, before the traces of the fight were worn away.

They lurked and lingered for a long time, but survived in little things; for, Nature, far above the evil passions

of men, soon recovered Her serenity, and smiled upon the guilty battleground as she had done before, when

it was innocent. The larks sang high above it; the swallows skimmed and dipped and flitted to and fro; the

shadows of the flying clouds pursued each other swiftly, over grass and corn and turnipfield and wood, and

over roof and church spire in the nestling town among the trees, away into the bright distance on the borders

of the sky and earth, where the red sunsets faded. Crops were sown, and grew up, and were gathered in; the

stream that had been crimsoned, turned a watermill; men whistled at the plough; gleaners and haymakers

were seen in quiet groups at work; sheep and oxen pastured; boys whooped and called, in fields, to scare

away the birds; smoke rose from cottage chimneys; sabbath bells rang peacefully; old people lived and died;

the timid creatures of the field, the simple flowers of the bush and garden, grew and withered in their destined

terms: and all upon the fierce and bloody battleground, where thousands upon thousands had been killed in

the great fight. But, there were deep green patches in the growing corn at first, that people looked at awfully.

Year after year they reappeared; and it was known that underneath those fertile spots, heaps of men and

horses lay buried, indiscriminately, enriching the ground. The husbandmen who ploughed those places,

shrunk from the great worms abounding there; and the sheaves they yielded, were, for many a long year,

called the Battle Sheaves, and set apart; and no one ever knew a Battle Sheaf to be among the last load at a

Harvest Home. For a long time, every furrow that was turned, revealed some fragments of the fight. For a

long time, there were wounded trees upon the battle ground; and scraps of hacked and broken fence and

wall, where deadly struggles had been made; and trampled parts where not a leaf or blade would grow. For a

long time, no village girl would dress her hair or bosom with the sweetest flower from that field of death: and

after many a year had come and gone, the berries growing there, were still believed to leave too deep a stain

The Seasons in their course, however, though they passed as lightly as the summer clouds themselves,

obliterated, in the lapse of time, even these remains of the old conflict; and wore away such legendary traces

of it as the neighbouring people carried in their minds, until they dwindled into old wives' tales, dimly

remembered round the winter fire, and waning every year. Where the wild flowers and berries had so long

remained upon the stem untouched, gardens arose, and houses were built, and children played at battles on

the turf. The wounded trees had long ago made Christmas logs, and blazed and roared away. The deep green

patches were no greener now than the memory of those who lay in dust below. The ploughshare still turned

up from time to time some rusty bits of metal, but it was hard to say what use they had ever served, and those

who found them wondered and disputed. An old dinted corselet, and a helmet, had been hanging in the

church so long, that the same weak halfblind old man who tried in vain to make them out above the

whitewashed arch, had marvelled at them as a baby. If the host slain upon the field, could have been for a

moment reanimated in the forms in which they fell, each upon the spot that was the bed of his untimely death,

gashed and ghastly soldiers would have stared in, hundreds deep, at household door and window; and would

have risen on the hearths of quiet homes; and would have been the garnered store of barns and granaries; and

would have started up between the cradled infant and its nurse; and would have floated with the stream, and

whirled round on the mill, and crowded the orchard, and burdened the meadow, and piled the rickyard high

with dying men. So altered was the battleground, where thousands upon thousands had been killed in the

Nowhere more altered, perhaps, about a hundred years ago, than in one little orchard attached to an old stone

house with a honeysuckle porch; where, on a bright autumn morning, there were sounds of music and

laughter, and where two girls danced merrily together on the grass, while some halfdozen peasant women

standing on ladders, gathering the apples from the trees, stopped in their work to look down, and share their

enjoyment. It was a pleasant, lively, natural scene; a beautiful day, a retired spot; and the two girls, quite

If there were no such thing as display in the world, my private opinion is, and I hope you agree with me, that

we might get on a great deal better than we do, and might be infinitely more agreeable company than we are.

It was charming to see how these girls danced. They had no spectators but the applepickers on the ladders.

They were very glad to please them, but they danced to please themselves (or at least you would have

supposed so); and you could no more help admiring, than they could help dancing. How they did dance!

Not like operadancers. Not at all. And not like Madame Anybody's finished pupils. Not the least. It was not

quadrille dancing, nor minuet dancing, nor even countrydance dancing. It was neither in the old style, nor

the new style, nor the French style, nor the English style: though it may have been, by accident, a trifle in the

Spanish style, which is a free and joyous one, I am told, deriving a delightful air of offhand inspiration,

from the chirping little castanets. As they danced among the orchard trees, and down the groves of stems and

back again, and twirled each other lightly round and round, the influence of their airy motion seemed to

spread and spread, in the sunlighted scene, like an expanding circle in the water. Their streaming hair and

fluttering skirts, the elastic grass beneath their feet, the boughs that rustled in the morning air the flashing

leaves, the speckled shadows on the soft green ground the balmy wind that swept along the landscape, glad

to turn the distant windmill, cheerily everything between the two girls, and the man and team at plough

upon the ridge of land, where they showed against the sky as if they were the last things in the world

At last, the younger of the dancing sisters, out of breath, and laughing gaily, threw herself upon a bench to

rest. The other leaned against a tree hard by. The music, a wandering harp and fiddle, left off with a flourish,

as if it boasted of its freshness; though the truth is, it had gone at such a pace, and worked itself to such a

pitch of competition with the dancing, that it never could have held on, half a minute longer. The apple

pickers on the ladders raised a hum and murmur of applause, and then, in keeping with the sound, bestirred

The more actively, perhaps, because an elderly gentleman, who was no other than Doctor Jeddler himself it

was Doctor Jeddler's house and orchard, you should know, and these were Doctor Jeddler's daughters came

bustling out to see what was the matter, and who the deuce played music on his property, before breakfast.

'Music and dancing TODAY!' said the Doctor, stopping short, and speaking to himself. 'I thought they

dreaded today. But it's a world of contradictions. Why, Grace, why, Marion!' he added, aloud, 'is the world

'Make some allowance for it, father, if it be,' replied his younger daughter, Marion, going close to him, and

'Somebody's birthday, Puss!' replied the Doctor. 'Don't you know it's always somebody's birthday? Did

you never hear how many new performers enter on this ha! ha! ha! it's impossible to speak gravely of it

'No, not you, of course; you're a woman almost,' said the Doctor. 'Bytheby,' and he looked into the pretty

'No! Do you really, father?' cried his pet daughter, pursing up her red lips to be kissed.

'There! Take my love with it,' said the Doctor, imprinting his upon them; 'and many happy returns of the

the idea! of the day. The notion of wishing happy returns in such a farce as this,' said the Doctor to himself,

Doctor Jeddler was, as I have said, a great philosopher, and the heart and mystery of his philosophy was, to

look upon the world as a gigantic practical joke; as something too absurd to be considered seriously, by any

rational man. His system of belief had been, in the beginning, part and parcel of the battleground on which

'Well! But how did you get the music?' asked the Doctor. 'Poultrystealers, of course! Where did the

'Alfred sent the music,' said his daughter Grace, adjusting a few simple flowers in her sister's hair, with

which, in her admiration of that youthful beauty, she had herself adorned it halfanhour before, and which

'Yes. He met it coming out of the town as he was entering early. The men are travelling on foot, and rested

there last night; and as it was Marion's birthday, and he thought it would please her, he sent them on, with a

pencilled note to me, saying that if I thought so too, they had come to serenade her.'

'And my opinion being favourable,' said Grace, goodhumouredly; and pausing for a moment to admire the

pretty head she decorated, with her own thrown back; 'and Marion being in high spirits, and beginning to

dance, I joined her. And so we danced to Alfred's music till we were out of breath. And we thought the music

'I am sure I don't much care to have him mentioned,' said the wilful beauty, stripping the petals from some

flowers she held, and scattering them on the ground. 'I am almost tired of hearing of him; and as to his being

'Hush! Don't speak lightly of a true heart, which is all your own, Marion,' cried her sister, 'even in jest. There

'Nono,' said Marion, raising her eyebrows with a pleasant air of careless consideration, 'perhaps not. But I

don't know that there's any great merit in that. I I don't want him to be so very true. I never asked him. If he

It was agreeable to see the graceful figures of the blooming sisters, twined together, lingering among the

trees, conversing thus, with earnestness opposed to lightness, yet, with love responding tenderly to love. And

it was very curious indeed to see the younger sister's eyes suffused with tears, and something fervently and

deeply felt, breaking through the wilfulness of what she said, and striving with it painfully.

The difference between them, in respect of age, could not exceed four years at most; but Grace, as often

happens in such cases, when no mother watches over both (the Doctor's wife was dead), seemed, in her gentle

care of her young sister, and in the steadiness of her devotion to her, older than she was; and more removed,

in course of nature, from all competition with her, or participation, otherwise than through her sympathy and

true affection, in her wayward fancies, than their ages seemed to warrant. Great character of mother, that,

even in this shadow and faint reflection of it, purifies the heart, and raises the exalted nature nearer to the

The Doctor's reflections, as he looked after them, and heard the purport of their discourse, were limited at

first to certain merry meditations on the folly of all loves and likings, and the idle imposition practised on

themselves by young people, who believed for a moment, that there could be anything serious in such

But, the homeadorning, selfdenying qualities of Grace, and her sweet temper, so gentle and retiring, yet

including so much constancy and bravery of spirit, seemed all expressed to him in the contrast between her

quiet household figure and that of his younger and more beautiful child; and he was sorry for her sake sorry

The Doctor never dreamed of inquiring whether his children, or either of them, helped in any way to make

A kind and generous man by nature, he had stumbled, by chance, over that common Philosopher's stone

(much more easily discovered than the object of the alchemist's researches), which sometimes trips up kind

and generous men, and has the fatal property of turning gold to dross and every precious thing to poor

A small man, with an uncommonly sour and discontented face, emerged from the house, and returned to this

'Are you going to spread it out here, as you were told last night?' said the Doctor. 'Don't you know that there

are gentlemen coming? That there's business to be done this morning, before the coach comes by? That this is

'I couldn't do anything, Dr. Jeddler, till the women had done getting in the apples, could I?' said Britain, his

'Well, have they done now?' replied the Doctor, looking at his watch, and clapping his hands. 'Come! make

'Here am I, Mister,' said a voice from one of the ladders, which a pair of clumsy feet descended briskly. 'It's

all done now. Clear away, gals. Everything shall be ready for you in half a minute, Mister.'

With that she began to bustle about most vigorously; presenting, as she did so, an appearance sufficiently

She was about thirty years old, and had a sufficiently plump and cheerful face, though it was twisted up into

an odd expression of tightness that made it comical. But, the extraordinary homeliness of her gait and

manner, would have superseded any face in the world. To say that she had two left legs, and somebody else's

arms, and that all four limbs seemed to be out of joint, and to start from perfectly wrong places when they

were set in motion, is to offer the mildest outline of the reality. To say that she was perfectly content and

satisfied with these arrangements, and regarded them as being no business of hers, and that she took her arms

and legs as they came, and allowed them to dispose of themselves just as it happened, is to render faint justice

to her equanimity. Her dress was a prodigious pair of selfwilled shoes, that never wanted to go where her

feet went; blue stockings; a printed gown of many colours, and the most hideous pattern procurable for

money; and a white apron. She always wore short sleeves, and always had, by some accident, grazed elbows,

in which she took so lively an interest, that she was continually trying to turn them round and get impossible

views of them. In general, a little cap placed somewhere on her head; though it was rarely to be met with in

the place usually occupied in other subjects, by that article of dress; but, from head to foot she was

scrupulously clean, and maintained a kind of dislocated tidiness. Indeed, her laudable anxiety to be tidy and

compact in her own conscience as well as in the public eye, gave rise to one of her most startling evolutions,

which was to grasp herself sometimes by a sort of wooden handle (part of her clothing, and familiarly called

a busk), and wrestle as it were with her garments, until they fell into a symmetrical arrangement.

Such, in outward form and garb, was Clemency Newcome; who was supposed to have unconsciously

originated a corruption of her own Christian name, from Clementina (but nobody knew, for the deaf old

mother, a very phenomenon of age, whom she had supported almost from a child, was dead, and she had no

other relation); who now busied herself in preparing the table, and who stood, at intervals, with her bare red

arms crossed, rubbing her grazed elbows with opposite hands, and staring at it very composedly, until she

'Here are them two lawyers acoming, Mister!' said Clemency, in a tone of no very great goodwill.

'Ah!' cried the Doctor, advancing to the gate to meet them. 'Good morning, good morning! Grace, my dear!

'He'll be back directly, father, no doubt,' said Grace. 'He had so much to do this morning in his preparations

'Ladies!' said Mr. Snitchey, 'for Self and Craggs,' who bowed, 'good morning! Miss,' to Marion, 'I kiss your

hand.' Which he did. 'And I wish you' which he might or might not, for he didn't look, at first sight, like a

gentleman troubled with many warm outpourings of soul, in behalf of other people, 'a hundred happy returns

'Ha ha ha!' laughed the Doctor thoughtfully, with his hands in his pockets. 'The great farce in a hundred acts!'

'You wouldn't, I am sure,' said Mr. Snitchey, standing a small professional blue bag against one leg of the

table, 'cut the great farce short for this actress, at all events, Doctor Jeddler.'

'No,' returned the Doctor. 'God forbid! May she live to laugh at it, as long as she CAN laugh, and then say,

'The French wit,' said Mr. Snitchey, peeping sharply into his blue bag, 'was wrong, Doctor Jeddler, and your

philosophy is altogether wrong, depend upon it, as I have often told you. Nothing serious in life! What do you

Craggs, who seemed to be represented by Snitchey, and to be conscious of little or no separate existence or

personal individuality, offered a remark of his own in this place. It involved the only idea of which he did not

stand seized and possessed in equal moieties with Snitchey; but, he had some partners in it among the wise

'Yes,' said Mr. Craggs, 'everything is. Everything appears to me to be made too easy, nowadays. It's the

vice of these times. If the world is a joke (I am not prepared to say it isn't), it ought to be made a very difficult

joke to crack. It ought to be as hard a struggle, sir, as possible. That's the intention. But, it's being made far

too easy. We are oiling the gates of life. They ought to be rusty. We shall have them beginning to turn, soon,

Mr. Craggs seemed positively to grate upon his own hinges, as he delivered this opinion; to which he

communicated immense effect being a cold, hard, dry, man, dressed in grey and white, like a flint; with

small twinkles in his eyes, as if something struck sparks out of them. The three natural kingdoms, indeed, had

each a fanciful representative among this brotherhood of disputants; for Snitchey was like a magpie or raven

(only not so sleek), and the Doctor had a streaked face like a winterpippin, with here and there a dimple to

express the peckings of the birds, and a very little bit of pigtail behind that stood for the stalk.

As the active figure of a handsome young man, dressed for a journey, and followed by a porter bearing

several packages and baskets, entered the orchard at a brisk pace, and with an air of gaiety and hope that

accorded well with the morning, these three drew together, like the brothers of the sister Fates, or like the

Graces most effectually disguised, or like the three weird prophets on the heath, and greeted him.

'A hundred happy returns of this auspicious day, Mr. Heathfield!' said Snitchey, bowing low.

'Why, what a battery!' exclaimed Alfred, stopping short, 'and one two three all foreboders of no good,

in the great sea before me. I am glad you are not the first I have met this morning: I should have taken it for a

'If you please, Mister, I was the first you know,' said Clemency Newcome. 'She was walking out here, before

'That's true! Clemency was the first,' said Alfred. 'So I defy you with Clemency.'

'Not so bad a one as it appears, may be,' said Alfred, shaking hands heartily with the Doctor, and also with

With a start, productive for the moment of a closer partnership between Jonathan Snitchey and Thomas

Craggs than the subsisting articles of agreement in that wise contemplated, he hastily betook himself to where

the sisters stood together, and however, I needn't more particularly explain his manner of saluting Marion

first, and Grace afterwards, than by hinting that Mr. Craggs may possibly have considered it 'too easy.'

Perhaps to change the subject, Dr. Jeddler made a hasty move towards the breakfast, and they all sat down at

table. Grace presided; but so discreetly stationed herself, as to cut off her sister and Alfred from the rest of the

company. Snitchey and Craggs sat at opposite corners, with the blue bag between them for safety; the Doctor

took his usual position, opposite to Grace. Clemency hovered galvanically about the table, as waitress; and

the melancholy Britain, at another and a smaller board, acted as Grand Carver of a round of beef and a ham.

'Meat?' said Britain, approaching Mr. Snitchey, with the carving knife and fork in his hands, and throwing the

Having executed these orders, and moderately supplied the Doctor (he seemed to know that nobody else

wanted anything to eat), he lingered as near the Firm as he decently could, watching with an austere eye their

disposition of the viands, and but once relaxing the severe expression of his face. This was on the occasion of

Mr. Craggs, whose teeth were not of the best, partially choking, when he cried out with great animation, 'I

'Now, Alfred,' said the Doctor, 'for a word or two of business, while we are yet at breakfast.'

'While we are yet at breakfast,' said Snitchey and Craggs, who seemed to have no present idea of leaving off.

Although Alfred had not been breakfasting, and seemed to have quite enough business on his hands as it was,

'In such a farce as this,' observed the Doctor, 'it might be this recurrence, on the eve of separation, of a double

birthday, which is connected with many associations pleasant to us four, and with the recollection of a long

'Ah! yes, yes, Dr. Jeddler,' said the young man. 'It is to the purpose. Much to the purpose, as my heart bears

witness this morning; and as yours does too, I know, if you would let it speak. I leave your house today; I

cease to be your ward today; we part with tender relations stretching far behind us, that never can be exactly

renewed, and with others dawning yet before us,' he looked down at Marion beside him, 'fraught with such

considerations as I must not trust myself to speak of now. Come, come!' he added, rallying his spirits and the

Doctor at once, 'there's a serious grain in this large foolish dustheap, Doctor. Let us allow to day, that there

'Today!' cried the Doctor. 'Hear him! Ha, ha, ha! Of all days in the foolish year. Why, on this day, the great

battle was fought on this ground. On this ground where we now sit, where I saw my two girls dance this

morning, where the fruit has just been gathered for our eating from these trees, the roots of which are struck

in Men, not earth, so many lives were lost, that within my recollection, generations afterwards, a

churchyard full of bones, and dust of bones, and chips of cloven skulls, has been dug up from underneath our

feet here. Yet not a hundred people in that battle knew for what they fought, or why; not a hundred of the

inconsiderate rejoicers in the victory, why they rejoiced. Not half a hundred people were the better for the

gain or loss. Not halfadozen men agree to this hour on the cause or merits; and nobody, in short, ever knew

anything distinct about it, but the mourners of the slain. Serious, too!' said the Doctor, laughing. 'Such a

'Serious!' cried the Doctor. 'If you allowed such things to be serious, you must go mad, or die, or climb up to

'Long ago!' returned the Doctor. 'Do you know what the world has been doing, ever since? Do you know

'And you'll excuse my saying, Doctor,' pursued Mr. Snitchey, 'having been already put a thousand times in

possession of my opinion, in the course of our discussions, that, in its having gone to law, and in its legal

system altogether, I do observe a serious side now, really, a something tangible, and with a purpose and

Clemency Newcome made an angular tumble against the table, occasioning a sounding clatter among the

'It's this evilinclined blue bag,' said Clemency, 'always tripping up somebody!'

'With a purpose and intention in it, I was saying,' resumed Snitchey, 'that commands respect. Life a farce, Dr.

'Granted, if you please, that war is foolish,' said Snitchey. 'There we agree. For example. Here's a smiling

country,' pointing it out with his fork, 'once overrun by soldiers trespassers every man of 'em and laid

waste by fire and sword. He, he, he! The idea of any man exposing himself, voluntarily, to fire and sword!

Stupid, wasteful, positively ridiculous; you laugh at your fellow creatures, you know, when you think of it!

But take this smiling country as it stands. Think of the laws appertaining to real property; to the bequest and

devise of real property; to the mortgage and redemption of real property; to leasehold, freehold, and copyhold

estate; think,' said Mr. Snitchey, with such great emotion that he actually smacked his lips, 'of the

complicated laws relating to title and proof of title, with all the contradictory precedents and numerous acts of

parliament connected with them; think of the infinite number of ingenious and interminable chancery suits, to

which this pleasant prospect may give rise; and acknowledge, Dr. Jeddler, that there is a green spot in the

scheme about us! I believe,' said Mr. Snitchey, looking at his partner, 'that I speak for Self and Craggs?'

Mr. Craggs having signified assent, Mr. Snitchey, somewhat freshened by his recent eloquence, observed that

'I don't stand up for life in general,' he added, rubbing his hands and chuckling, 'it's full of folly; full of

something worse. Professions of trust, and confidence, and unselfishness, and all that! Bah, bah, bah! We see

what they're worth. But, you mustn't laugh at life; you've got a game to play; a very serious game indeed!

Everybody's playing against you, you know, and you're playing against them. Oh! it's a very interesting thing.

There are deep moves upon the board. You must only laugh, Dr. Jeddler, when you win and then not much.

He, he, he! And then not much,' repeated Snitchey, rolling his head and winking his eye, as if he would have

'I say, sir,' replied Alfred, 'that the greatest favour you could do me, and yourself too, I am inclined to think,

would be to try sometimes to forget this battlefield and others like it in that broader battlefield of Life, on

'Really, I'm afraid that wouldn't soften his opinions, Mr. Alfred,' said Snitchey. 'The combatants are very

eager and very bitter in that same battle of Life. There's a great deal of cutting and slashing, and firing into

people's heads from behind. There is terrible treading down, and trampling on. It is rather a bad business.'

'I believe, Mr. Snitchey,' said Alfred, 'there are quiet victories and struggles, great sacrifices of self, and noble

acts of heroism, in it even in many of its apparent lightnesses and contradictions not the less difficult to

achieve, because they have no earthly chronicle or audience done every day in nooks and corners, and in

little households, and in men's and women's hearts any one of which might reconcile the sternest man to

such a world, and fill him with belief and hope in it, though twofourths of its people were at war, and

'Well, well!' said the Doctor, 'I am too old to be converted, even by my friend Snitchey here, or my good

spinster sister, Martha Jeddler; who had what she calls her domestic trials ages ago, and has led a

sympathising life with all sorts of people ever since; and who is so much of your opinion (only she's less

reasonable and more obstinate, being a woman), that we can't agree, and seldom meet. I was born upon this

battlefield. I began, as a boy, to have my thoughts directed to the real history of a battlefield. Sixty years

have gone over my head, and I have never seen the Christian world, including Heaven knows how many

loving mothers and good enough girls like mine here, anything but mad for a battle field. The same

contradictions prevail in everything. One must either laugh or cry at such stupendous inconsistencies; and I

Britain, who had been paying the profoundest and most melancholy attention to each speaker in his turn,

seemed suddenly to decide in favour of the same preference, if a deep sepulchral sound that escaped him

might be construed into a demonstration of risibility. His face, however, was so perfectly unaffected by it,

both before and afterwards, that although one or two of the breakfast party looked round as being startled by

Except his partner in attendance, Clemency Newcome; who rousing him with one of those favourite joints,

'What between master and them lawyers, he's getting more and more addleheaded every day!' cried

Clemency, giving him a lunge with the other elbow, as a mental stimulant. 'Do you know where you are? Do

'I don't know anything,' said Britain, with a leaden eye and an immovable visage. 'I don't care for anything. I

Although this forlorn summary of his general condition may have been overcharged in an access of

despondency, Benjamin Britain sometimes called Little Britain, to distinguish him from Great; as we might

say Young England, to express Old England with a decided difference had defined his real state more

accurately than might be supposed. For, serving as a sort of man Miles to the Doctor's Friar Bacon, and

listening day after day to innumerable orations addressed by the Doctor to various people, all tending to show

that his very existence was at best a mistake and an absurdity, this unfortunate servitor had fallen, by degrees,

into such an abyss of confused and contradictory suggestions from within and without, that Truth at the

bottom of her well, was on the level surface as compared with Britain in the depths of his mystification. The

only point he clearly comprehended, was, that the new element usually brought into these discussions by

Snitchey and Craggs, never served to make them clearer, and always seemed to give the Doctor a species of

advantage and confirmation. Therefore, he looked upon the Firm as one of the proximate causes of his state

'But, this is not our business, Alfred,' said the Doctor. 'Ceasing to be my ward (as you have said) today; and

leaving us full to the brim of such learning as the Grammar School down here was able to give you, and your

studies in London could add to that, and such practical knowledge as a dull old country Doctor like myself

could graft upon both; you are away, now, into the world. The first term of probation appointed by your poor

father, being over, away you go now, your own master, to fulfil his second desire. And long before your three

years' tour among the foreign schools of medicine is finished, you'll have forgotten us. Lord, you'll forget us

'If I do But you know better; why should I speak to you!' said Alfred, laughing.

'I don't know anything of the sort,' returned the Doctor. 'What do you say, Marion?'

Marion, trifling with her teacup, seemed to say but she didn't say it that he was welcome to forget, if he

'I haven't been, I hope, a very unjust steward in the execution of my trust,' pursued the Doctor; 'but I am to be,

at any rate, formally discharged, and released, and what not this morning; and here are our good friends

Snitchey and Craggs, with a bagful of papers, and accounts, and documents, for the transfer of the balance of

the trust fund to you (I wish it was a more difficult one to dispose of, Alfred, but you must get to be a great

man and make it so), and other drolleries of that sort, which are to be signed, sealed, and delivered.'

'And duly witnessed as by law required,' said Snitchey, pushing away his plate, and taking out the papers,

which his partner proceeded to spread upon the table; 'and Self and Crags having been cotrustees with you,

Doctor, in so far as the fund was concerned, we shall want your two servants to attest the signatures can

'Oh! I beg your pardon. I should think not,' chuckled Snitchey, casting his eyes over her extraordinary figure.

'Why, this is a lunatic! a subject for the Lord High Chancellor!' said Snitchey, staring at her.

Grace, however, interposing, explained that each of the articles in question bore an engraved motto, and so

formed the pocket library of Clemency Newcome, who was not much given to the study of books.

'Yes, yes. Ha, ha, ha! I thought our friend was an idiot. She looks uncommonly like it,' he muttered, with a

'Well, Newcome. Will that do?' said the lawyer. 'What does the thimble say, Newcome?'

How Clemency, before replying to this question, held one pocket open, and looked down into its yawning

depths for the thimble which wasn't there, and how she then held an opposite pocket open, and seeming to

descry it, like a pearl of great price, at the bottom, cleared away such intervening obstacles as a handkerchief,

an end of wax candle, a flushed apple, an orange, a lucky penny, a cramp bone, a padlock, a pair of scissors

in a sheath more expressively describable as promising young shears, a handful or so of loose beads, several

balls of cotton, a needlecase, a cabinet collection of curlpapers, and a biscuit, all of which articles she

Nor how, in her determination to grasp this pocket by the throat and keep it prisoner (for it had a tendency to

swing, and twist itself round the nearest corner), she assumed and calmly maintained, an attitude apparently

inconsistent with the human anatomy and the laws of gravity. It is enough that at last she triumphantly

produced the thimble on her finger, and rattled the nutmeggrater: the literature of both those trinkets being

obviously in course of wearing out and wasting away, through excessive friction.

'That's the thimble, is it, young woman?' said Mr. Snitchey, diverting himself at her expense. 'And what does

'It says,' replied Clemency, reading slowly round as if it were a tower, 'Forget and Forgive.'

Snitchey and Craggs laughed heartily. 'So new!' said Snitchey. 'So easy!' said Craggs. 'Such a knowledge of

human nature in it!' said Snitchey. 'So applicable to the affairs of life!' said Craggs.

'I don't understand,' retorted Clemency, shaking her head vaguely. 'I an't no lawyer.'

'I am afraid that if she was, Doctor,' said Mr. Snitchey, turning to him suddenly, as if to anticipate any effect

that might otherwise be consequent on this retort, 'she'd find it to be the golden rule of half her clients. They

are serious enough in that whimsical as your world is and lay the blame on us afterwards. We, in our

profession, are little else than mirrors after all, Mr. Alfred; but, we are generally consulted by angry and

quarrelsome people who are not in their best looks, and it's rather hard to quarrel with us if we reflect

unpleasant aspects. I think,' said Mr. Snitchey, 'that I speak for Self and Craggs?'

'And so, if Mr. Britain will oblige us with a mouthful of ink,' said Mr. Snitchey, returning to the papers, 'we'll

sign, seal, and deliver as soon as possible, or the coach will be coming past before we know where we are.'

If one might judge from his appearance, there was every probability of the coach coming past before Mr.

Britain knew where HE was; for he stood in a state of abstraction, mentally balancing the Doctor against the

lawyers, and the lawyers against the Doctor, and their clients against both, and engaged in feeble attempts to

make the thimble and nutmeggrater (a new idea to him) square with anybody's system of philosophy; and, in

short, bewildering himself as much as ever his great namesake has done with theories and schools. But,

Clemency, who was his good Genius though he had the meanest possible opinion of her understanding, by

reason of her seldom troubling herself with abstract speculations, and being always at hand to do the right

thing at the right time having produced the ink in a twinkling, tendered him the further service of recalling

him to himself by the application of her elbows; with which gentle flappers she so jogged his memory, in a

more literal construction of that phrase than usual, that he soon became quite fresh and brisk.

How he laboured under an apprehension not uncommon to persons in his degree, to whom the use of pen and

ink is an event, that he couldn't append his name to a document, not of his own writing, without committing

himself in some shadowy manner, or somehow signing away vague and enormous sums of money; and how

he approached the deeds under protest, and by dint of the Doctor's coercion, and insisted on pausing to look

at them before writing (the cramped hand, to say nothing of the phraseology, being so much Chinese to him),

and also on turning them round to see whether there was anything fraudulent underneath; and how, having

signed his name, he became desolate as one who had parted with his property and rights; I want the time to

tell. Also, how the blue bag containing his signature, afterwards had a mysterious interest for him, and he

couldn't leave it; also, how Clemency Newcome, in an ecstasy of laughter at the idea of her own importance

and dignity, brooded over the whole table with her two elbows, like a spread eagle, and reposed her head

upon her left arm as a preliminary to the formation of certain cabalistic characters, which required a deal of

ink, and imaginary counterparts whereof she executed at the same time with her tongue. Also, how, having

once tasted ink, she became thirsty in that regard, as tame tigers are said to be after tasting another sort of

fluid, and wanted to sign everything, and put her name in all kinds of places. In brief, the Doctor was

discharged of his trust and all its responsibilities; and Alfred, taking it on himself, was fairly started on the

'Britain!' said the Doctor. 'Run to the gate, and watch for the coach. Time flies, Alfred.'

'Yes, sir, yes,' returned the young man, hurriedly. 'Dear Grace! a moment! Marion so young and beautiful,

so winning and so much admired, dear to my heart as nothing else in life is remember! I leave Marion to

'She has always been a sacred charge to me, Alfred. She is doubly so, now. I will be faithful to my trust,

'I do believe it, Grace. I know it well. Who could look upon your face, and hear your voice, and not know it!

Ah, Grace! If I had your wellgoverned heart, and tranquil mind, how bravely I would leave this place

'And yet, sister, then,' said Alfred, 'Marion and I had better have your true and steadfast qualities serving us

here, and making us both happier and better. I wouldn't carry them away, to sustain myself, if I could!'

Marion had stood apart, with her eyes fixed upon the ground; but, this warning being given, her young lover

'I have been telling Grace, dear Marion,' he said, 'that you are her charge; my precious trust at parting. And

when I come back and reclaim you, dearest, and the bright prospect of our married life lies stretched before

us, it shall be one of our chief pleasures to consult how we can make Grace happy; how we can anticipate her

wishes; how we can show our gratitude and love to her; how we can return her something of the debt she will

The younger sister had one hand in his; the other rested on her sister's neck. She looked into that sister's eyes,

so calm, serene, and cheerful, with a gaze in which affection, admiration, sorrow, wonder, almost veneration,

were blended. She looked into that sister's face, as if it were the face of some bright angel. Calm, serene, and

'And when the time comes, as it must one day,' said Alfred, 'I wonder it has never come yet, but Grace

knows best, for Grace is always right when SHE will want a friend to open her whole heart to, and to be to

her something of what she has been to us then, Marion, how faithful we will prove, and what delight to us

to know that she, our dear good sister, loves and is loved again, as we would have her!'

Still the younger sister looked into her eyes, and turned not even towards him. And still those honest eyes

'And when all that is past, and we are old, and living (as we must!) together close together talking often

of old times,' said Alfred 'these shall be our favourite times among them this day most of all; and, telling

each other what we thought and felt, and hoped and feared at parting; and how we couldn't bear to say good

'Yes! I am ready and how we met again, so happily in spite of all; we'll make this day the happiest in all the

'Yes!' interposed the elder sister, eagerly, and with a radiant smile. 'Yes! Alfred, don't linger. There's no time.

He pressed the younger sister to his heart. Released from his embrace, she again clung to her sister; and her

eyes, with the same blended look, again sought those so calm, serene, and cheerful.

'Farewell, my boy!' said the Doctor. 'To talk about any serious correspondence or serious affections, and

engagements and so forth, in such a ha ha ha! you know what I mean why that, of course, would be

sheer nonsense. All I can say is, that if you and Marion should continue in the same foolish minds, I shall not

'Let it come!' said Alfred, wringing the Doctor's hand stoutly. 'Think of me sometimes, my old friend and

'A kiss of Clemency Newcome for long acquaintance' sake! Shake hands, Britain! Marion, dearest heart, good

The quiet household figure, and the face so beautiful in its serenity, were turned towards him in reply; but

The coach was at the gate. There was a bustle with the luggage. The coach drove away. Marion never moved.

'He waves his hat to you, my love,' said Grace. 'Your chosen husband, darling. Look!'

The younger sister raised her head, and, for a moment, turned it. Then, turning back again, and fully meeting,

'Oh, Grace. God bless you! But I cannot bear to see it, Grace! It breaks my heart.'

SNITCHEY AND CRAGGS had a snug little office on the old Battle Ground, where they drove a snug little

business, and fought a great many small pitched battles for a great many contending parties. Though it could

hardly be said of these conflicts that they were running fights for in truth they generally proceeded at a

snail's pace the part the Firm had in them came so far within the general denomination, that now they took a

shot at this Plaintiff, and now aimed a chop at that Defendant, now made a heavy charge at an estate in

Chancery, and now had some light skirmishing among an irregular body of small debtors, just as the occasion

served, and the enemy happened to present himself. The Gazette was an important and profitable feature in

some of their fields, as in fields of greater renown; and in most of the Actions wherein they showed their

generalship, it was afterwards observed by the combatants that they had had great difficulty in making each

other out, or in knowing with any degree of distinctness what they were about, in consequence of the vast

The offices of Messrs. Snitchey and Craggs stood convenient, with an open door down two smooth steps, in

the marketplace; so that any angry farmer inclining towards hot water, might tumble into it at once. Their

special councilchamber and hall of conference was an old backroom upstairs, with a low dark ceiling,

which seemed to be knitting its brows gloomily in the consideration of tangled points of law. It was furnished

with some highbacked leathern chairs, garnished with great goggleeyed brass nails, of which, every here

and there, two or three had fallen out or had been picked out, perhaps, by the wandering thumbs and

forefingers of bewildered clients. There was a framed print of a great judge in it, every curl in whose dreadful

wig had made a man's hair stand on end. Bales of papers filled the dusty closets, shelves, and tables; and

round the wainscot there were tiers of boxes, padlocked and fireproof, with people's names painted outside,

which anxious visitors felt themselves, by a cruel enchantment, obliged to spell backwards and forwards, and

to make anagrams of, while they sat, seeming to listen to Snitchey and Craggs, without comprehending one

Snitchey and Craggs had each, in private life as in professional existence, a partner of his own. Snitchey and

Craggs were the best friends in the world, and had a real confidence in one another; but Mrs. Snitchey, by a

dispensation not uncommon in the affairs of life, was on principle suspicious of Mr. Craggs; and Mrs. Craggs

was on principle suspicious of Mr. Snitchey. 'Your Snitcheys indeed,' the latter lady would observe,

sometimes, to Mr. Craggs; using that imaginative plural as if in disparagement of an objectionable pair of

pantaloons, or other articles not possessed of a singular number; 'I don't see what you want with your

Snitcheys, for my part. You trust a great deal too much to your Snitcheys, I think, and I hope you may never

find my words come true.' While Mrs. Snitchey would observe to Mr. Snitchey, of Craggs, 'that if ever he

was led away by man he was led away by that man, and that if ever she read a double purpose in a mortal

eye, she read that purpose in Craggs's eye.' Notwithstanding this, however, they were all very good friends in

general: and Mrs. Snitchey and Mrs. Craggs maintained a close bond of alliance against 'the office,' which

they both considered the Blue chamber, and common enemy, full of dangerous (because unknown)

In this office, nevertheless, Snitchey and Craggs made honey for their several hives. Here, sometimes, they

would linger, of a fine evening, at the window of their councilchamber overlooking the old battleground,

and wonder (but that was generally at assize time, when much business had made them sentimental) at the

folly of mankind, who couldn't always be at peace with one another and go to law comfortably. Here, days,

and weeks, and months, and years, passed over them: their calendar, the gradually diminishing number of

brass nails in the leathern chairs, and the increasing bulk of papers on the tables. Here, nearly three years'

flight had thinned the one and swelled the other, since the breakfast in the orchard; when they sat together in

Not alone; but, with a man of about thirty, or that time of life, negligently dressed, and somewhat haggard in

the face, but well made, wellattired, and welllooking, who sat in the armchair of state, with one hand in

his breast, and the other in his dishevelled hair, pondering moodily. Messrs. Snitchey and Craggs sat opposite

each other at a neighbouring desk. One of the fireproof boxes, unpadlocked and opened, was upon it; a part of

its contents lay strewn upon the table, and the rest was then in course of passing through the hands of Mr.

Snitchey; who brought it to the candle, document by document; looked at every paper singly, as he produced

it; shook his head, and handed it to Mr. Craggs; who looked it over also, shook his head, and laid it down.

Sometimes, they would stop, and shaking their heads in concert, look towards the abstracted client. And the

name on the box being Michael Warden, Esquire, we may conclude from these premises that the name and

the box were both his, and that the affairs of Michael Warden, Esquire, were in a bad way.

'That's all,' said Mr. Snitchey, turning up the last paper. 'Really there's no other resource. No other resource.'

'All lost, spent, wasted, pawned, borrowed, and sold, eh?' said the client, looking up.

'In no part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland,' replied Mr. Snitchey.

'A mere prodigal son with no father to go back to, no swine to keep, and no husks to share with them? Eh?'

pursued the client, rocking one leg over the other, and searching the ground with his eyes.

Mr. Snitchey coughed, as if to deprecate the being supposed to participate in any figurative illustration of a

legal position. Mr. Craggs, as if to express that it was a partnership view of the subject, also coughed.

'Not ruined, Mr. Warden,' returned Snitchey. 'Not so bad as that. You have done a good deal towards it, I

'Mr. Craggs,' said Snitchey, 'will you oblige me with a pinch of snuff? Thank you, sir.'

As the imperturbable lawyer applied it to his nose with great apparent relish and a perfect absorption of his

attention in the proceeding, the client gradually broke into a smile, and, looking up, said:

'How long nursing?' repeated Snitchey, dusting the snuff from his fingers, and making a slow calculation in

his mind. 'For your involved estate, sir? In good hands? S. and C.'s, say? Six or seven years.'

'To starve for six or seven years!' said the client with a fretful laugh, and an impatient change of his position.

'To starve for six or seven years, Mr. Warden,' said Snitchey, 'would be very uncommon indeed. You might

get another estate by showing yourself, the while. But, we don't think you could do it speaking for Self and

'Nursing, I say,' repeated Snitchey. 'Some few years of nursing by Self and Craggs would bring it round. But

to enable us to make terms, and hold terms, and you to keep terms, you must go away; you must live abroad.

As to starvation, we could ensure you some hundreds ayear to starve upon, even in the beginning I dare

'That,' retorted Mr. Snitchey, putting the papers slowly back into the castiron box, 'there is no doubt about.

No doubt about,' he repeated to himself, as he thoughtfully pursued his occupation.

The lawyer very likely knew HIS man; at any rate his dry, shrewd, whimsical manner, had a favourable

influence on the client's moody state, and disposed him to be more free and unreserved. Or, perhaps the client

knew HIS man, and had elicited such encouragement as he had received, to render some purpose he was

about to disclose the more defensible in appearance. Gradually raising his head, he sat looking at his

'I beg Mr. Craggs's pardon,' said the client. 'After all, my iron headed friends,' he leaned forward in his

'Yes!' said the client, falling back in his chair, and surveying the Firm with his hands in his pockets. 'Deep in

'It's not one of Dr. Jeddler's daughters?' said Snitchey, suddenly squaring his elbows on his knees, and

'Mr. Craggs,' said Snitchey, much relieved, 'will you oblige me with another pinch of snuff? Thank you! I am

happy to say it don't signify, Mr. Warden; she's engaged, sir, she's bespoke. My partner can corroborate me.

'Why, so do I perhaps,' returned the client quietly. 'What of that! Are you men of the world, and did you never

'There certainly have been actions for breach,' said Mr. Snitchey, 'brought against both spinsters and widows,

'Cases!' interposed the client, impatiently. 'Don't talk to me of cases. The general precedent is in a much

larger volume than any of your law books. Besides, do you think I have lived six weeks in the Doctor's house

'I think, sir,' observed Mr. Snitchey, gravely addressing himself to his partner, 'that of all the scrapes Mr.

Warden's horses have brought him into at one time and another and they have been pretty numerous, and

pretty expensive, as none know better than himself, and you, and I the worst scrape may turn out to be, if he

talks in this way, this having ever been left by one of them at the Doctor's garden wall, with three broken ribs,

a snapped collar bone, and the Lord knows how many bruises. We didn't think so much of it, at the time

when we knew he was going on well under the Doctor's hands and roof; but it looks bad now, sir. Bad? It

'Mr. Michael Warden too, a kind of client,' said the careless visitor, 'and no bad one either: having played the

fool for ten or twelve years. However, Mr. Michael Warden has sown his wild oats now there's their crop,

in that box; and he means to repent and be wise. And in proof of it, Mr. Michael Warden means, if he can, to

'Really, Mr. Snitchey, and Mr. Craggs, partners both,' said the client, interrupting him; 'you know your duty

to your clients, and you know well enough, I am sure, that it is no part of it to interfere in a mere love affair,

which I am obliged to confide to you. I am not going to carry the young lady off, without her own consent.

There's nothing illegal in it. I never was Mr. Heathfield's bosom friend. I violate no confidence of his. I love

'He can't, Mr. Craggs,' said Snitchey, evidently anxious and discomfited. 'He can't do it, sir. She dotes on Mr.

'I didn't live six weeks, some few months ago, in the Doctor's house for nothing; and I doubted that soon,'

observed the client. 'She would have doted on him, if her sister could have brought it about; but I watched

them. Marion avoided his name, avoided the subject: shrunk from the least allusion to it, with evident

'I don't know why she should, though there are many likely reasons,' said the client, smiling at the attention

and perplexity expressed in Mr. Snitchey's shining eye, and at his cautious way of carrying on the

conversation, and making himself informed upon the subject; 'but I know she does. She was very young when

she made the engagement if it may be called one, I am not even sure of that and has repented of it,

perhaps. Perhaps it seems a foppish thing to say, but upon my soul I don't mean it in that light she may

'He, he! Mr. Alfred, her old playfellow too, you remember, Mr. Craggs,' said Snitchey, with a disconcerted

'Which makes it the more probable that she may be tired of his idea,' calmly pursued the client, 'and not

indisposed to exchange it for the newer one of another lover, who presents himself (or is presented by his

horse) under romantic circumstances; has the not unfavourable reputation with a country girl of having

lived thoughtlessly and gaily, without doing much harm to anybody; and who, for his youth and figure, and

so forth this may seem foppish again, but upon my soul I don't mean it in that light might perhaps pass

There was no gainsaying the last clause, certainly; and Mr. Snitchey, glancing at him, thought so. There was

something naturally graceful and pleasant in the very carelessness of his air. It seemed to suggest, of his

comely face and wellknit figure, that they might be greatly better if he chose: and that, once roused and

made earnest (but he never had been earnest yet), he could be full of fire and purpose. 'A dangerous sort of

libertine,' thought the shrewd lawyer, 'to seem to catch the spark he wants, from a young lady's eyes.'

'Now, observe, Snitchey,' he continued, rising and taking him by the button, 'and Craggs,' taking him by the

button also, and placing one partner on either side of him, so that neither might evade him. 'I don't ask you for

any advice. You are right to keep quite aloof from all parties in such a matter, which is not one in which

grave men like you could interfere, on any side. I am briefly going to review in halfadozen words, my

position and intention, and then I shall leave it to you to do the best for me, in money matters, that you can:

seeing, that, if I run away with the Doctor's beautiful daughter (as I hope to do, and to become another man

under her bright influence), it will be, for the moment, more chargeable than running away alone. But I shall

'I think it will be better not to hear this, Mr. Craggs?' said Snitchey, looking at him across the client.

'Well! You needn't hear it,' replied their client. 'I'll mention it, however. I don't mean to ask the Doctor's

consent, because he wouldn't give it me. But I mean to do the Doctor no wrong or harm, because (besides

there being nothing serious in such trifles, as he says) I hope to rescue his child, my Marion, from what I see

I KNOW she dreads, and contemplates with misery: that is, the return of this old lover. If anything in the

world is true, it is true that she dreads his return. Nobody is injured so far. I am so harried and worried here

just now, that I lead the life of a flyingfish. I skulk about in the dark, I am shut out of my own house, and

warned off my own grounds; but, that house, and those grounds, and many an acre besides, will come back to

me one day, as you know and say; and Marion will probably be richer on your showing, who are never

sanguine ten years hence as my wife, than as the wife of Alfred Heathfield, whose return she dreads

(remember that), and in whom or in any man, my passion is not surpassed. Who is injured yet? It is a fair case

throughout. My right is as good as his, if she decide in my favour; and I will try my right by her alone. You

will like to know no more after this, and I will tell you no more. Now you know my purpose, and wants.

'In a month,' said the client, after attentively watching the two faces. 'This day month. Today is Thursday.

'It's too long a delay,' said Snitchey; 'much too long. But let it be so. I thought he'd have stipulated for three,'

'You'll live to see me making a good use of riches yet. Henceforth the star of my destiny is, Marion!'

'Take care of the stairs, sir,' replied Snitchey; 'for she don't shine there. Good night!'

So they both stood at the stairhead with a pair of officecandles, watching him down. When he had gone

'It was our opinion, on the day when that release was executed, that there was something curious in the

'Perhaps he deceives himself altogether,' pursued Mr. Snitchey, locking up the fireproof box, and putting it

away; 'or, if he don't, a little bit of fickleness and perfidy is not a miracle, Mr. Craggs. And yet I thought that

pretty face was very true. I thought,' said Mr. Snitchey, putting on his greatcoat (for the weather was very

cold), drawing on his gloves, and snuffing out one candle, 'that I had even seen her character becoming

'I'd really give a trifle tonight,' observed Mr. Snitchey, who was a goodnatured man, 'if I could believe that

Mr. Warden was reckoning without his host; but, lightheaded, capricious, and unballasted as he is, he knows

something of the world and its people (he ought to, for he has bought what he does know, dear enough); and I

can't quite think that. We had better not interfere: we can do nothing, Mr. Craggs, but keep quiet.'

'Our friend the Doctor makes light of such things,' said Mr. Snitchey, shaking his head. 'I hope he mayn't

stand in need of his philosophy. Our friend Alfred talks of the battle of life,' he shook his head again, 'I hope

he mayn't be cut down early in the day. Have you got your hat, Mr. Craggs? I am going to put the other

candle out.' Mr. Craggs replying in the affirmative, Mr. Snitchey suited the action to the word, and they

groped their way out of the councilchamber, now dark as the subject, or the law in general.

My story passes to a quiet little study, where, on that same night, the sisters and the hale old Doctor sat by a

cheerful fireside. Grace was working at her needle. Marion read aloud from a book before her. The Doctor, in

his dressinggown and slippers, with his feet spread out upon the warm rug, leaned back in his easy chair,

They were very beautiful to look upon. Two better faces for a fireside, never made a fireside bright and

sacred. Something of the difference between them had been softened down in three years' time; and

enthroned upon the clear brow of the younger sister, looking through her eyes, and thrilling in her voice, was

the same earnest nature that her own motherless youth had ripened in the elder sister long ago. But she still

appeared at once the lovelier and weaker of the two; still seemed to rest her head upon her sister's breast, and

put her trust in her, and look into her eyes for counsel and reliance. Those loving eyes, so calm, serene, and

'"And being in her own home,"' read Marion, from the book; '"her home made exquisitely dear by these

remembrances, she now began to know that the great trial of her heart must soon come on, and could not be

delayed. O Home, our comforter and friend when others fall away, to part with whom, at any step between

She put her hand upon the hand her sister stretched towards her, and read on; her voice still faltering and

'"To part with whom, at any step between the cradle and the grave, is always sorrowful. O Home, so true to

us, so often slighted in return, be lenient to them that turn away from thee, and do not haunt their erring

footsteps too reproachfully! Let no kind looks, no wellremembered smiles, be seen upon thy phantom face.

Let no ray of affection, welcome, gentleness, forbearance, cordiality, shine from thy white head. Let no old

loving word, or tone, rise up in judgment against thy deserter; but if thou canst look harshly and severely, do,

'What! overcome by a storybook!' said Doctor Jeddler. 'Print and paper! Well, well, it's all one. It's as

rational to make a serious matter of print and paper as of anything else. But, dry your eyes, love, dry your

eyes. I dare say the heroine has got home again long ago, and made it up all round and if she hasn't, a real

home is only four walls; and a fictitious one, mere rags and ink. What's the matter now?'

'Oh, bless you, nothing an't the matter with me,' returned Clemency and truly too, to judge from her

wellsoaped face, in which there gleamed as usual the very soul of goodhumour, which, ungainly as she

was, made her quite engaging. Abrasions on the elbows are not generally understood, it is true, to range

within that class of personal charms called beautyspots. But, it is better, going through the world, to have

the arms chafed in that narrow passage, than the temper: and Clemency's was sound and whole as any

'Nothing an't the matter with me,' said Clemency, entering, 'but come a little closer, Mister.'

A novice in the family might have supposed, from her extraordinary ogling as she said it, as well as from a

singular rapture or ecstasy which pervaded her elbows, as if she were embracing herself, that 'one,' in its most

favourable interpretation, meant a chaste salute. Indeed the Doctor himself seemed alarmed, for the moment;

but quickly regained his composure, as Clemency, having had recourse to both her pockets beginning with

the right one, going away to the wrong one, and afterwards coming back to the right one again produced a

'Britain was riding by on a errand,' she chuckled, handing it to the Doctor, 'and see the mail come in, and

waited for it. There's A. H. in the corner. Mr. Alfred's on his journey home, I bet. We shall have a wedding in

the house there was two spoons in my saucer this morning. Oh Luck, how slow he opens it!'

All this she delivered, by way of soliloquy, gradually rising higher and higher on tiptoe, in her impatience to

hear the news, and making a corkscrew of her apron, and a bottle of her mouth. At last, arriving at a climax of

suspense, and seeing the Doctor still engaged in the perusal of the letter, she came down flat upon the soles of

her feet again, and cast her apron, as a veil, over her head, in a mute despair, and inability to bear it any

'Here! Girls!' cried the Doctor. 'I can't help it: I never could keep a secret in my life. There are not many

secrets, indeed, worth being kept in such a well! never mind that. Alfred's coming home, my dears,

'What! The storybook is soon forgotten!' said the Doctor, pinching her cheek. 'I thought the news would dry

those tears. Yes. "Let it be a surprise," he says, here. But I can't let it be a surprise. He must have a welcome.'

'Why, perhaps not what your impatience calls "directly,"' returned the doctor; 'but pretty soon too. Let us see.

Let us see. Today is Thursday, is it not? Then he promises to be here, this day month.'

'A gay day and a holiday for us,' said the cheerful voice of her sister Grace, kissing her in congratulation.

She answered with a smile; a mournful smile, but full of sisterly affection. As she looked in her sister's face,

and listened to the quiet music of her voice, picturing the happiness of this return, her own face glowed with

And with a something else; a something shining more and more through all the rest of its expression; for

which I have no name. It was not exultation, triumph, proud enthusiasm. They are not so calmly shown. It

was not love and gratitude alone, though love and gratitude were part of it. It emanated from no sordid

thought, for sordid thoughts do not light up the brow, and hover on the lips, and move the spirit like a

Dr. Jeddler, in spite of his system of philosophy which he was continually contradicting and denying in

practice, but more famous philosophers have done that could not help having as much interest in the return

of his old ward and pupil as if it had been a serious event. So he sat himself down in his easychair again,

stretched out his slippered feet once more upon the rug, read the letter over and over a great many times, and

'Ah! The day was,' said the Doctor, looking at the fire, 'when you and he, Grace, used to trot about

'I remember,' she answered, with her pleasant laugh, and plying her needle busily.

'This day month, indeed!' mused the Doctor. 'That hardly seems a twelve month ago. And where was my little

'Never far from her sister,' said Marion, cheerily, 'however little. Grace was everything to me, even when she

'True, Puss, true,' returned the Doctor. 'She was a staid little woman, was Grace, and a wise housekeeper, and

a busy, quiet, pleasant body; bearing with our humours and anticipating our wishes, and always ready to

forget her own, even in those times. I never knew you positive or obstinate, Grace, my darling, even then, on

'I am afraid I have changed sadly for the worse, since,' laughed Grace, still busy at her work. 'What was that

'Alfred, of course,' said the Doctor. 'Nothing would serve you but you must be called Alfred's wife; so we

called you Alfred's wife; and you liked it better, I believe (odd as it seems now), than being called a Duchess,

'I think I remember something of it,' she returned, 'but not much. It's so long ago.' And as she sat at work, she

'Alfred will find a real wife soon,' she said, breaking off; 'and that will be a happy time indeed for all of us.

My three years' trust is nearly at an end, Marion. It has been a very easy one. I shall tell Alfred, when I give

you back to him, that you have loved him dearly all the time, and that he has never once needed my good

'Tell him, dear Grace,' replied Marion, 'that there never was a trust so generously, nobly, steadfastly

discharged; and that I have loved YOU, all the time, dearer and dearer every day; and O! how dearly now!'

'Nay,' said her cheerful sister, returning her embrace, 'I can scarcely tell him that; we will leave my deserts to

With that, she resumed the work she had for a moment laid down, when her sister spoke so fervently: and

with it the old song the Doctor liked to hear. And the Doctor, still reposing in his easy chair, with his

slippered feet stretched out before him on the rug, listened to the tune, and beat time on his knee with Alfred's

letter, and looked at his two daughters, and thought that among the many trifles of the trifling world, these

Clemency Newcome, in the meantime, having accomplished her mission and lingered in the room until she

had made herself a party to the news, descended to the kitchen, where her coadjutor, Mr. Britain, was

regaling after supper, surrounded by such a plentiful collection of bright potlids, wellscoured saucepans,

burnished dinnercovers, gleaming kettles, and other tokens of her industrious habits, arranged upon the

walls and shelves, that he sat as in the centre of a hall of mirrors. The majority did not give forth very

flattering portraits of him, certainly; nor were they by any means unanimous in their reflections; as some

made him very longfaced, others very broadfaced, some tolerably well looking, others vastly illlooking,

according to their several manners of reflecting: which were as various, in respect of one fact, as those of so

many kinds of men. But they all agreed that in the midst of them sat, quite at his ease, an individual with a

pipe in his mouth, and a jug of beer at his elbow, who nodded condescendingly to Clemency, when she

Clemency told him the news, which he received very graciously. A gracious change had come over Benjamin

from head to foot. He was much broader, much redder, much more cheerful, and much jollier in all respects.

It seemed as if his face had been tied up in a knot before, and was now untwisted and smoothed out.

'There'll be another job for Snitchey and Craggs, I suppose,' he observed, puffing slowly at his pipe. 'More

'Lor!' replied his fair companion, with her favourite twist of her favourite joints. 'I wish it was me, Britain!'

Benjamin took his pipe out of his mouth and laughed heartily. 'Yes! you're a likely subject for that!' he said.

'Poor Clem!' Clemency for her part laughed as heartily as he, and seemed as much amused by the idea. 'Yes,'

'Only think!' said Clemency. 'Well! I suppose you mean to, Britain, one of these days; don't you?'

A question so abrupt, upon a subject so momentous, required consideration. After blowing out a great cloud

of smoke, and looking at it with his head now on this side and now on that, as if it were actually the question,

and he were surveying it in various aspects, Mr. Britain replied that he wasn't altogether clear about it, but

'But she wouldn't have led quite such a joyful life as she will lead, and wouldn't have had quite such a

sociable sort of husband as she will have,' said Clemency, spreading herself half over the table, and staring

retrospectively at the candle, 'if it hadn't been for not that I went to do it, for it was accidental, I am sure if

'Certainly not,' returned Mr. Britain, by this time in that high state of appreciation of his pipe, when a man can

open his mouth but a very little way for speaking purposes; and sitting luxuriously immovable in his chair,

can afford to turn only his eyes towards a companion, and that very passively and gravely. 'Oh! I'm greatly

At the same time, bringing her thoughts as well as her sight to bear upon the candlegrease, and becoming

abruptly reminiscent of its healing qualities as a balsam, she anointed her left elbow with a plentiful

'You see I've made a good many investigations of one sort and another in my time,' pursued Mr. Britain, with

the profundity of a sage, 'having been always of an inquiring turn of mind; and I've read a good many books

about the general Rights of things and Wrongs of things, for I went into the literary line myself, when I began

'Yes,' said Mr. Britain: 'I was hid for the best part of two years behind a bookstall, ready to fly out if anybody

pocketed a volume; and after that, I was light porter to a stay and mantua maker, in which capacity I was

employed to carry about, in oilskin baskets, nothing but deceptions which soured my spirits and disturbed

my confidence in human nature; and after that, I heard a world of discussions in this house, which soured my

spirits fresh; and my opinion after all is, that, as a safe and comfortable sweetener of the same, and as a

Clemency was about to offer a suggestion, but he stopped her by anticipating it.

'Do as you wold, you know, and cetrer, eh!' observed Clemency, folding her arms comfortably in her delight

'I'm not sure,' said Mr. Britain, 'that it's what would be considered good philosophy. I've my doubts about

that; but it wears well, and saves a quantity of snarling, which the genuine article don't always.'

'Ah!' said Mr. Britain. 'But the most extraordinary thing, Clemmy, is that I should live to be brought round,

through you. That's the strange part of it. Through you! Why, I suppose you haven't so much as half an idea

Clemency, without taking the least offence, shook it, and laughed and hugged herself, and said, 'No, she

'Oh! I dare say you're right,' said Clemency. 'I don't pretend to none. I don't want any.'

Benjamin took his pipe from his lips, and laughed till the tears ran down his face. 'What a natural you are,

Clemmy!' he said, shaking his head, with an infinite relish of the joke, and wiping his eyes. Clemency,

without the smallest inclination to dispute it, did the like, and laughed as heartily as he.

'I can't help liking you,' said Mr. Britain; 'you're a regular good creature in your way, so shake hands, Clem.

'Yes, yes,' said Mr. Britain, giving her his pipe to knock the ashes out of it; 'I'll stand by you. Hark! That's a

'A footstep outside. Somebody dropping from the wall, it sounded like,' said Britain. 'Are they all abed

'I tell you what,' said Benjamin, taking down a lantern. 'I'll have a look round, before I go to bed myself, for

Clemency complied briskly; but observed as she did so, that he would only have his walk for his pains, that it

was all his fancy, and so forth. Mr. Britain said 'very likely;' but sallied out, nevertheless, armed with the

'It's as quiet as a churchyard,' said Clemency, looking after him; 'and almost as ghostly too!'

Glancing back into the kitchen, she cried fearfully, as a light figure stole into her view, 'What's that!'

'Hush!' said Marion in an agitated whisper. 'You have always loved me, have you not!'

'I am sure. And I may trust you, may I not? There is no one else just now, in whom I CAN trust.'

'There is some one out there,' pointing to the door, 'whom I must see, and speak with, tonight. Michael

Clemency started with surprise and trouble as, following the direction of the speaker's eyes, she saw a dark

'In another moment you may be discovered,' said Marion. 'Not now! Wait, if you can, in some concealment. I

He waved his hand to her, and was gone. 'Don't go to bed. Wait here for me!' said Marion, hurriedly. 'I have

Eagerly seizing her bewildered hand, and pressing it with both her own to her breast an action more

expressive, in its passion of entreaty, than the most eloquent appeal in words, Marion withdrew; as the light

'All still and peaceable. Nobody there. Fancy, I suppose,' said Mr. Britain, as he locked and barred the door.

'One of the effects of having a lively imagination. Halloa! Why, what's the matter?'

Clemency, who could not conceal the effects of her surprise and concern, was sitting in a chair: pale, and

'Matter!' she repeated, chafing her hands and elbows, nervously, and looking anywhere but at him. 'That's

good in you, Britain, that is! After going and frightening one out of one's life with noises and lanterns, and I

'If you're frightened out of your life by a lantern, Clemmy,' said Mr. Britain, composedly blowing it out and

hanging it up again, 'that apparition's very soon got rid of. But you're as bold as brass in general,' he said,

stopping to observe her; 'and were, after the noise and the lantern too. What have you taken into your head?

But, as Clemency bade him good night very much after her usual fashion, and began to bustle about with a

show of going to bed herself immediately, Little Britain, after giving utterance to the original remark that it

was impossible to account for a woman's whims, bade her good night in return, and taking up his candle

'Open the door,' she said; 'and stand there close beside me, while I speak to him, outside.'

Timid as her manner was, it still evinced a resolute and settled purpose, such as Clemency could not resist.

She softly unbarred the door: but before turning the key, looked round on the young creature waiting to issue

The face was not averted or cast down, but looking full upon her, in its pride of youth and beauty. Some

simple sense of the slightness of the barrier that interposed itself between the happy home and honoured love

of the fair girl, and what might be the desolation of that home, and shipwreck of its dearest treasure, smote so

keenly on the tender heart of Clemency, and so filled it to overflowing with sorrow and compassion, that,

'It's little that I know, my dear,' cried Clemency, 'very little; but I know that this should not be. Think of what

'For Mr. Alfred's sake,' said Clemency, with homely earnestness. 'Him that you used to love so dearly, once!'

She hid her face, upon the instant, in her hands, repeating 'Once!' as if it rent her heart.

'Let me go out,' said Clemency, soothing her. 'I'll tell him what you like. Don't cross the doorstep tonight.

I'm sure no good will come of it. Oh, it was an unhappy day when Mr. Warden was ever brought here! Think

'I have,' said Marion, hastily raising her head. 'You don't know what I do. I MUST speak to him. You are the

best and truest friend in all the world for what you have said to me, but I must take this step. Will you go with

Sorrowing and wondering, Clemency turned the key, and opened the door. Into the dark and doubtful night

In the dark night he joined her, and they spoke together earnestly and long; and the hand that held so fast by

Clemeney's, now trembled, now turned deadly cold, now clasped and closed on hers, in the strong feeling of

the speech it emphasised unconsciously. When they returned, he followed to the door, and pausing there a

moment, seized the other hand, and pressed it to his lips. Then, stealthily withdrew.

The door was barred and locked again, and once again she stood beneath her father's roof. Not bowed down

by the secret that she brought there, though so young; but, with that same expression on her face for which I

Again she thanked and thanked her humble friend, and trusted to her, as she said, with confidence, implicitly.

Her chamber safely reached, she fell upon her knees; and with her secret weighing on her heart, could pray!

Could rise up from her prayers, so tranquil and serene, and bending over her fond sister in her slumber, look

upon her face and smile though sadly: murmuring as she kissed her forehead, how that Grace had been a

Could draw the passive arm about her neck when lying down to rest it seemed to cling there, of its own

will, protectingly and tenderly even in sleep and breathe upon the parted lips, God bless her!

Could sink into a peaceful sleep, herself; but for one dream, in which she cried out, in her innocent and

A month soon passes, even at its tardiest pace. The month appointed to elapse between that night and the

The day arrived. A raging winter day, that shook the old house, sometimes, as if it shivered in the blast. A

day to make home doubly home. To give the chimneycorner new delights. To shed a ruddier glow upon the

faces gathered round the hearth, and draw each fireside group into a closer and more social league, against

the roaring elements without. Such a wild winter day as best prepares the way for shutout night; for

curtained rooms, and cheerful looks; for music, laughter, dancing, light, and jovial entertainment!

All these the Doctor had in store to welcome Alfred back. They knew that he could not arrive till night; and

they would make the night air ring, he said, as he approached. All his old friends should congregate about

him. He should not miss a face that he had known and liked. No! They should every one be there!

So, guests were bidden, and musicians were engaged, and tables spread, and floors prepared for active feet,

and bountiful provision made, of every hospitable kind. Because it was the Christmas season, and his eyes

were all unused to English holly and its sturdy green, the dancingroom was garlanded and hung with it; and

the red berries gleamed an English welcome to him, peeping from among the leaves.

It was a busy day for all of them: a busier day for none of them than Grace, who noiselessly presided

everywhere, and was the cheerful mind of all the preparations. Many a time that day (as well as many a time

within the fleeting month preceding it), did Clemency glance anxiously, and almost fearfully, at Marion. She

saw her paler, perhaps, than usual; but there was a sweet composure on her face that made it lovelier than

At night when she was dressed, and wore upon her head a wreath that Grace had proudly twined about it its

mimic flowers were Alfred's favourites, as Grace remembered when she chose them that old expression,

pensive, almost sorrowful, and yet so spiritual, high, and stirring, sat again upon her brow, enhanced a

'The next wreath I adjust on this fair head, will be a marriage wreath,' said Grace; 'or I am no true prophet,

Her care was not for that. It was her sister's face she thought of, and her eyes were fixed upon it, tenderly.

'My art,' said Grace, 'can go no farther, dear girl; nor your beauty. I never saw you look so beautiful as now.'

'Ay, but there is a greater happiness in store. In such another home, as cheerful and as bright as this looks

She smiled again. 'It is a happy home, Grace, in your fancy. I can see it in your eyes. I know it WILL be

'Well,' cried the Doctor, bustling in. 'Here we are, all ready for Alfred, eh? He can't be here until pretty late

an hour or so before midnight so there'll be plenty of time for making merry before he comes. He'll not find

us with the ice unbroken. Pile up the fire here, Britain! Let it shine upon the holly till it winks again. It's a

world of nonsense, Puss; true lovers and all the rest of it all nonsense; but we'll be nonsensical with the rest

of 'em, and give our true lover a mad welcome. Upon my word!' said the old Doctor, looking at his daughters

proudly, 'I'm not clear tonight, among other absurdities, but that I'm the father of two handsome girls.'

'All that one of them has ever done, or may do may do, dearest father to cause you pain or grief, forgive

her,' said Marion, 'forgive her now, when her heart is full. Say that you forgive her. That you will forgive her.

That she shall always share your love, and ,' and the rest was not said, for her face was hidden on the old

'Tut, tut, tut,' said the Doctor gently. 'Forgive! What have I to forgive? Heyday, if our true lovers come back

to flurry us like this, we must hold 'em at a distance; we must send expresses out to stop 'em short upon the

road, and bring 'em on a mile or two a day, until we're properly prepared to meet 'em. Kiss me, Puss. Forgive!

Why, what a silly child you are! If you had vexed and crossed me fifty times a day, instead of not at all, I'd

forgive you everything, but such a supplication. Kiss me again, Puss. There! Prospective and retrospective

a clear score between us. Pile up the fire here! Would you freeze the people on this bleak December night!

So gaily the old Doctor carried it! And the fire was piled up, and the lights were bright, and company arrived,

and a murmuring of lively tongues began, and already there was a pleasant air of cheerful excitement stirring

More and more company came flocking in. Bright eyes sparkled upon Marion; smiling lips gave her joy of

his return; sage mothers fanned themselves, and hoped she mightn't be too youthful and inconstant for the

quiet round of home; impetuous fathers fell into disgrace for too much exaltation of her beauty; daughters

envied her; sons envied him; innumerable pairs of lovers profited by the occasion; all were interested,

Mr. and Mrs. Craggs came arm in arm, but Mrs. Snitchey came alone. 'Why, what's become of HIM?'

The feather of a Bird of Paradise in Mrs. Snitchey's turban, trembled as if the Bird of Paradise were alive

'He's he's there's a little matter of business that keeps my partner rather late,' said Mr. Craggs, looking

But their not knowing what it meant, was perhaps the reason why Mrs. Snitchey's Bird of Paradise feather

quivered so portentously, and why all the pendant bits on Mrs. Craggs's earrings shook like little bells.

'A person with an office has no business to be married at all,' said Mrs. Snitchey.

Then, Mrs. Snitchey said, within herself, that that look of hers had pierced to Craggs's soul, and he knew it;

and Mrs. Craggs observed to Craggs, that 'his Snitcheys' were deceiving him behind his back, and he would

Still, Mr. Craggs, without much heeding these remarks, looked uneasily about until his eye rested on Grace,

'Good evening, ma'am,' said Craggs. 'You look charmingly. Your Miss your sister, Miss Marion, is she '

Mr. Craggs put on his spectacles to see the better; looked at her through them, for some time; coughed; and

put them, with an air of satisfaction, in their sheath again, and in his pocket.

Now the music struck up, and the dance commenced. The bright fire crackled and sparkled, rose and fell, as

though it joined the dance itself, in right good fellowship. Sometimes, it roared as if it would make music too.

Sometimes, it flashed and beamed as if it were the eye of the old room: it winked too, sometimes, like a

knowing patriarch, upon the youthful whisperers in corners. Sometimes, it sported with the hollyboughs;

and, shining on the leaves by fits and starts, made them look as if they were in the cold winter night again,

and fluttering in the wind. Sometimes its genial humour grew obstreperous, and passed all bounds; and then it

cast into the room, among the twinkling feet, with a loud burst, a shower of harmless little sparks, and in its

Another dance was near its close, when Mr. Snitchey touched his partner, who was looking on, upon the arm.

'Hush! He has been with me,' said Snitchey, 'for three hours and more. He went over everything. He looked

The dance was finished. Marion passed close before him, as he spoke. She did not observe him, or his

partner; but, looked over her shoulder towards her sister in the distance, as she slowly made her way into the

'You see! All safe and well,' said Mr. Craggs. 'He didn't recur to that subject, I suppose?'

'He keeps to his word. He drops down the river with the tide in that shell of a boat of his, and so goes out to

sea on this dark night! a daredevil he is before the wind. There's no such lonely road anywhere else.

That's one thing. The tide flows, he says, an hour before midnight about this time. I'm glad it's over.' Mr.

'Hush!' replied his cautious partner, looking straight before him. 'I understand you. Don't mention names, and

don't let us, seem to be talking secrets. I don't know what to think; and to tell you the truth, I don't care now.

It's a great relief. His selflove deceived him, I suppose. Perhaps the young lady coquetted a little. The

'Good.' Mr. Snitchey wiped his forehead again. 'It's a great relief. I haven't been so nervous since we've been

Mrs. Craggs and Mrs. Snitchey joined them as he announced this intention. The Bird of Paradise was in a

'It has been the theme of general comment, Mr. Snitchey,' said Mrs. Snitchey. 'I hope the office is satisfied.'

'With the exposure of a defenceless woman to ridicule and remark,' returned his wife. 'That is quite in the way

'I really, myself,' said Mrs. Craggs, 'have been so long accustomed to connect the office with everything

opposed to domesticity, that I am glad to know it as the avowed enemy of my peace. There is something

'My dear,' urged Mr. Craggs, 'your good opinion is invaluable, but I never avowed that the office was the

'No,' said Mrs. Craggs, ringing a perfect peal upon the little bells. 'Not you, indeed. You wouldn't be worthy

'As to my having been away tonight, my dear,' said Mr. Snitchey, giving her his arm, 'the deprivation has

Mrs. Snitchey cut this reference very short by hitching her husband to a distance, and asking him to look at

'No, no, I'm not,' said Mrs. Snitchey with a majestic smile. 'I know my station. Will you look at your chosen

companion, Mr. Snitchey; at your referee, at the keeper of your secrets, at the man you trust; at your other

The habitual association of Self with Craggs, occasioned Mr. Snitchey to look in that direction.

'If you can look that man in the eye this night,' said Mrs. Snitchey, 'and not know that you are deluded,

practised upon, made the victim of his arts, and bent down prostrate to his will by some unaccountable

fascination which it is impossible to explain and against which no warning of mine is of the least avail, all I

At the very same moment Mrs. Craggs was oracular on the cross subject. Was it possible, she said, that

Craggs could so blind himself to his Snitcheys, as not to feel his true position? Did he mean to say that he had

seen his Snitcheys come into that room, and didn't plainly see that there was reservation, cunning, treachery,

in the man? Would he tell her that his very action, when he wiped his forehead and looked so stealthily about

him, didn't show that there was something weighing on the conscience of his precious Snitcheys (if he had a

conscience), that wouldn't bear the light? Did anybody but his Snitcheys come to festive entertainments like a

burglar? which, by the way, was hardly a clear illustration of the case, as he had walked in very mildly at

the door. And would he still assert to her at noonday (it being nearly midnight), that his Snitcheys were to

be justified through thick and thin, against all facts, and reason, and experience?

Neither Snitchey nor Craggs openly attempted to stem the current which had thus set in, but, both were

content to be carried gently along it, until its force abated. This happened at about the same time as a general

movement for a country dance; when Mr. Snitchey proposed himself as a partner to Mrs. Craggs, and Mr.

Craggs gallantly offered himself to Mrs. Snitchey; and after some such slight evasions as 'why don't you ask

somebody else?' and 'you'll be glad, I know, if I decline,' and 'I wonder you can dance out of the office' (but

It was an old custom among them, indeed, to do so, and to pair off, in like manner, at dinners and suppers; for

they were excellent friends, and on a footing of easy familiarity. Perhaps the false Craggs and the wicked

Snitchey were a recognised fiction with the two wives, as Doe and Roe, incessantly running up and down

bailiwicks, were with the two husbands: or, perhaps the ladies had instituted, and taken upon themselves,

these two shares in the business, rather than be left out of it altogether. But, certain it is, that each wife went

as gravely and steadily to work in her vocation as her husband did in his, and would have considered it almost

impossible for the Firm to maintain a successful and respectable existence, without her laudable exertions.

But, now, the Bird of Paradise was seen to flutter down the middle; and the little bells began to bounce and

jingle in poussette; and the Doctor's rosy face spun round and round, like an expressive pegtop highly

varnished; and breathless Mr. Craggs began to doubt already, whether country dancing had been made 'too

easy,' like the rest of life; and Mr. Snitchey, with his nimble cuts and capers, footed it for Self and Craggs,

Now, too, the fire took fresh courage, favoured by the lively wind the dance awakened, and burnt clear and

high. It was the Genius of the room, and present everywhere. It shone in people's eyes, it sparkled in the

jewels on the snowy necks of girls, it twinkled at their ears as if it whispered to them slyly, it flashed about

their waists, it flickered on the ground and made it rosy for their feet, it bloomed upon the ceiling that its

glow might set off their bright faces, and it kindled up a general illumination in Mrs. Craggs's little belfry.

Now, too, the lively air that fanned it, grew less gentle as the music quickened and the dance proceeded with

new spirit; and a breeze arose that made the leaves and berries dance upon the wall, as they had often done

upon the trees; and the breeze rustled in the room as if an invisible company of fairies, treading in the

footsteps of the good substantial revellers, were whirling after them. Now, too, no feature of the Doctor's

face could be distinguished as he spun and spun; and now there seemed a dozen Birds of Paradise in fitful

flight; and now there were a thousand little bells at work; and now a fleet of flying skirts was ruffled by a

Hot and breathless as the Doctor was, it only made him the more impatient for Alfred's coming.

'Stir up the fire, and throw another log upon it,' said the Doctor. 'Let him see his welcome blazing out upon

He saw it Yes! From the chaise he caught the light, as he turned the corner by the old church. He knew the

room from which it shone. He saw the wintry branches of the old trees between the light and him. He knew

that one of those trees rustled musically in the summer time at the window of Marion's chamber.

The tears were in his eyes. His heart throbbed so violently that he could hardly bear his happiness. How often

he had thought of this time pictured it under all circumstances feared that it might never come yearned,

Again the light! Distinct and ruddy; kindled, he knew, to give him welcome, and to speed him home. He

beckoned with his hand, and waved his hat, and cheered out, loud, as if the light were they, and they could

see and hear him, as he dashed towards them through the mud and mire, triumphantly.

Stop! He knew the Doctor, and understood what he had done. He would not let it be a surprise to them. But

he could make it one, yet, by going forward on foot. If the orchardgate were open, he could enter there; if

not, the wall was easily climbed, as he knew of old; and he would be among them in an instant.

He dismounted from the chaise, and telling the driver even that was not easy in his agitation to remain

behind for a few minutes, and then to follow slowly, ran on with exceeding swiftness, tried the gate, scaled

There was a frosty rime upon the trees, which, in the faint light of the clouded moon, hung upon the smaller

branches like dead garlands. Withered leaves crackled and snapped beneath his feet, as he crept softly on

towards the house. The desolation of a winter night sat brooding on the earth, and in the sky. But, the red

light came cheerily towards him from the windows; figures passed and repassed there; and the hum and

Listening for hers: attempting, as he crept on, to detach it from the rest, and half believing that he heard it: he

had nearly reached the door, when it was abruptly opened, and a figure coming out encountered his. It

'Don't come in!' she answered, pushing him back. 'Go away. Don't ask me why. Don't come in.'

There was a sudden tumult in the house. She put her hands upon her ears. A wild scream, such as no hands

could shut out, was heard; and Grace distraction in her looks and manner rushed out at the door.

A crowd of figures came about them from the house. Among them was her father, with a paper in his hand.

'What is it!' cried Alfred, grasping his hair with his hands, and looking in an agony from face to face, as he

bent upon his knee beside the insensible girl. 'Will no one look at me? Will no one speak to me? Does no one

'Fled, my dear Alfred!' said the Doctor, in a broken voice, and with his hands before his face. 'Gone from her

home and us. To night! She writes that she has made her innocent and blameless choice entreats that we

He started up, as if to follow in pursuit; but, when they gave way to let him pass, looked wildly round upon

them, staggered back, and sunk down in his former attitude, clasping one of Grace's cold hands in his own.

There was a hurried running to and fro, confusion, noise, disorder, and no purpose. Some proceeded to

disperse themselves about the roads, and some took horse, and some got lights, and some conversed together,

urging that there was no trace or track to follow. Some approached him kindly, with the view of offering

consolation; some admonished him that Grace must be removed into the house, and that he prevented it. He

The snow fell fast and thick. He looked up for a moment in the air, and thought that those white ashes strewn

upon his hopes and misery, were suited to them well. He looked round on the whitening ground, and thought

how Marion's footprints would be hushed and covered up, as soon as made, and even that remembrance of

THE world had grown six years older since that night of the return. It was a warm autumn afternoon, and

there had been heavy rain. The sun burst suddenly from among the clouds; and the old battle ground,

sparkling brilliantly and cheerfully at sight of it in one green place, flashed a responsive welcome there,

which spread along the country side as if a joyful beacon had been lighted up, and answered from a thousand

How beautiful the landscape kindling in the light, and that luxuriant influence passing on like a celestial

presence, brightening everything! The wood, a sombre mass before, revealed its varied tints of yellow, green,

brown, red: its different forms of trees, with raindrops glittering on their leaves and twinkling as they fell.

The verdant meadowland, bright and glowing, seemed as if it had been blind, a minute since, and now had

found a sense of sight wherewith to look up at the shining sky. Cornfields, hedgerows, fences,

homesteads, and clustered roofs, the steeple of the church, the stream, the watermill, all sprang out of the

gloomy darkness smiling. Birds sang sweetly, flowers raised their drooping heads, fresh scents arose from the

invigorated ground; the blue expanse above extended and diffused itself; already the sun's slanting rays

pierced mortally the sullen bank of cloud that lingered in its flight; and a rainbow, spirit of all the colours that

At such a time, one little roadside Inn, snugly sheltered behind a great elmtree with a rare seat for idlers

encircling its capacious bole, addressed a cheerful front towards the traveller, as a house of entertainment

ought, and tempted him with many mute but significant assurances of a comfortable welcome. The ruddy

sign board perched up in the tree, with its golden letters winking in the sun, ogled the passerby, from

among the green leaves, like a jolly face, and promised good cheer. The horsetrough, full of clear fresh

water, and the ground below it sprinkled with droppings of fragrant hay, made every horse that passed, prick

up his ears. The crimson curtains in the lower rooms, and the pure white hangings in the little bedchambers

above, beckoned, Come in! with every breath of air. Upon the bright green shutters, there were golden

legends about beer and ale, and neat wines, and good beds; and an affecting picture of a brown jug frothing

over at the top. Upon the windowsills were flowering plants in bright red pots, which made a lively show

against the white front of the house; and in the darkness of the doorway there were streaks of light, which

On the doorstep, appeared a proper figure of a landlord, too; for, though he was a short man, he was round

and broad, and stood with his hands in his pockets, and his legs just wide enough apart to express a mind at

rest upon the subject of the cellar, and an easy confidence too calm and virtuous to become a swagger in

the general resources of the Inn. The superabundant moisture, trickling from everything after the late rain, set

him off well. Nothing near him was thirsty. Certain topheavy dahlias, looking over the palings of his neat

wellordered garden, had swilled as much as they could carry perhaps a trifle more and may have been

the worse for liquor; but the sweetbriar, roses, wall flowers, the plants at the windows, and the leaves on

the old tree, were in the beaming state of moderate company that had taken no more than was wholesome for

them, and had served to develop their best qualities. Sprinkling dewy drops about them on the ground, they

seemed profuse of innocent and sparkling mirth, that did good where it lighted, softening neglected corners

This village Inn had assumed, on being established, an uncommon sign. It was called The NutmegGrater.

And underneath that household word, was inscribed, up in the tree, on the same flaming board, and in the like

At a second glance, and on a more minute examination of his face, you might have known that it was no other

than Benjamin Britain himself who stood in the doorway reasonably changed by time, but for the better; a

'Mrs. B.,' said Mr. Britain, looking down the road, 'is rather late. It's teatime.'

As there was no Mrs. Britain coming, he strolled leisurely out into the road and looked up at the house, very

much to his satisfaction. 'It's just the sort of house,' said Benjamin, 'I should wish to stop at, if I didn't keep it.'

Then, he strolled towards the gardenpaling, and took a look at the dahlias. They looked over at him, with a

helpless drowsy hanging of their heads: which bobbed again, as the heavy drops of wet dripped off them.

'You must be looked after,' said Benjamin. 'Memorandum, not to forget to tell her so. She's a long time

Mr. Britain's better half seemed to be by so very much his better half, that his own moiety of himself was

'She hadn't much to do, I think,' said Ben. 'There were a few little matters of business after market, but not

A chaisecart, driven by a boy, came clattering along the road: and seated in it, in a chair, with a large

wellsaturated umbrella spread out to dry behind her, was the plump figure of a matronly woman, with her

bare arms folded across a basket which she carried on her knee, several other baskets and parcels lying

crowded around her, and a certain bright good nature in her face and contented awkwardness in her manner,

as she jogged to and fro with the motion of her carriage, which smacked of old times, even in the distance.

Upon her nearer approach, this relish of bygone days was not diminished; and when the cart stopped at the

NutmegGrater door, a pair of shoes, alighting from it, slipped nimbly through Mr. Britain's open arms, and

came down with a substantial weight upon the pathway, which shoes could hardly have belonged to any one

In fact they did belong to her, and she stood in them, and a rosy comfortablelooking soul she was: with as

much soap on her glossy face as in times of yore, but with whole elbows now, that had grown quite dimpled

'Why, you see, Ben, I've had a deal to do!' she replied, looking busily after the safe removal into the house of

all the packages and baskets: 'eight, nine, ten where's eleven? Oh! my basket's eleven! It's all right. Put the

horse up, Harry, and if he coughs again give him a warm mash tonight. Eight, nine, ten. Why, where's

'Bless their precious faces!' said Mrs. Britain, unbonneting her own round countenance (for she and her

husband were by this time in the bar), and smoothing her hair with her open hands. 'Give us a kiss, old man!'

'I think,' said Mrs. Britain, applying herself to her pockets and drawing forth an immense bulk of thin books

and crumpled papers: a very kennel of dogs'ears: 'I've done everything. Bills all settled turnips sold

brewer's account looked into and paid 'bacco pipes ordered seventeen pound four, paid into the Bank

Doctor Heathfield's charge for little Clem you'll guess what that is Doctor Heathfield won't take nothing

'No. He says whatever family you was to have, Ben, he'd never put you to the cost of a halfpenny. Not if you

Mr. Britain's face assumed a serious expression, and he looked hard at the wall.

'Very,' returned Mr. Britain. 'It's the sort of kindness that I wouldn't presume upon, on any account.'

'No,' retorted Clemency. 'Of course not. Then there's the pony he fetched eight pound two; and that an't bad,

'I'm glad you're pleased!' exclaimed his wife. 'I thought you would be; and I think that's all, and so no more at

present from yours and cetrer, C. Britain. Ha ha ha! There! Take all the papers, and lock 'em up. Oh! Wait a

minute. Here's a printed bill to stick on the wall. Wet from the printer's. How nice it smells!'

'"To be sold by Auction,"' read the host of the NutmegGrater, '"unless previously disposed of by private

'Yes, but they don't always put this,' he returned. 'Look here, "Mansion," "offices," "shrubberies," "ring

fence," "Messrs. Snitchey and Craggs," "ornamental portion of the unencumbered freehold property of

'And it was only this very day that I heard it whispered at the old house, that better and plainer news had been

half promised of her, soon!' said Clemency, shaking her head sorrowfully, and patting her elbows as if the

recollection of old times unconsciously awakened her old habits. 'Dear, dear, dear! There'll be heavy hearts,

Mr. Britain heaved a sigh, and shook his head, and said he couldn't make it out: he had left off trying long

ago. With that remark, he applied himself to putting up the bill just inside the bar window. Clemency, after

meditating in silence for a few moments, roused herself, cleared her thoughtful brow, and bustled off to look

Though the host of the NutmegGrater had a lively regard for his goodwife, it was of the old patronising

kind, and she amused him mightily. Nothing would have astonished him so much, as to have known for

certain from any third party, that it was she who managed the whole house, and made him, by her plain

straightforward thrift, goodhumour, honesty, and industry, a thriving man. So easy it is, in any degree of life

(as the world very often finds it), to take those cheerful natures that never assert their merit, at their own

modest valuation; and to conceive a flippant liking of people for their outward oddities and eccentricities,

whose innate worth, if we would look so far, might make us blush in the comparison!

It was comfortable to Mr. Britain, to think of his own condescension in having married Clemency. She was a

perpetual testimony to him of the goodness of his heart, and the kindness of his disposition; and he felt that

her being an excellent wife was an illustration of the old precept that virtue is its own reward.

He had finished wafering up the bill, and had locked the vouchers for her day's proceedings in the cupboard

chuckling all the time, over her capacity for business when, returning with the news that the two Master

Britains were playing in the coachhouse under the superintendence of one Betsey, and that little Clem was

sleeping 'like a picture,' she sat down to tea, which had awaited her arrival, on a little table. It was a very neat

little bar, with the usual display of bottles and glasses; a sedate clock, right to the minute (it was halfpast

five); everything in its place, and everything furbished and polished up to the very utmost.

'It's the first time I've sat down quietly today, I declare,' said Mrs. Britain, taking a long breath, as if she had

sat down for the night; but getting up again immediately to hand her husband his tea, and cut him his

'Ah!' said Mr. Britain, handling his saucer like an oyster, and disposing of its contents on the same principle.

'That same Mr. Michael Warden,' said Clemency, shaking her head at the notice of sale, 'lost me my old

'Man's the creature of habit,' said Mr. Britain, surveying her, over his saucer. 'I had somehow got used to you,

Clem; and I found I shouldn't be able to get on without you. So we went and got made man and wife. Ha! ha!

'No, no, no,' replied Mr. Britain, with an air of selfdenial. 'Nothing worth mentioning.'

'Oh yes it was, Ben,' said his wife, with great simplicity; 'I'm sure I think so, and am very much obliged to

you. Ah!' looking again at the bill; 'when she was known to be gone, and out of reach, dear girl, I couldn't

'And Dr. Jeddler,' pursued Clemency, putting down her teacup, and looking thoughtfully at the bill, 'in his

grief and passion turned me out of house and home! I never have been so glad of anything in all my life, as

that I didn't say an angry word to him, and hadn't any angry feeling towards him, even then; for he repented

that truly, afterwards. How often he has sat in this room, and told me over and over again he was sorry for it!

the last time, only yesterday, when you were out. How often he has sat in this room, and talked to me, hour

after hour, about one thing and another, in which he made believe to be interested! but only for the sake of

'Why, how did you ever come to catch a glimpse of that, Clem?' asked her husband: astonished that she

should have a distinct perception of a truth which had only dimly suggested itself to his inquiring mind.

'I don't know, I'm sure,' said Clemency, blowing her tea, to cool it. 'Bless you, I couldn't tell you, if you was

He might have pursued this metaphysical subject but for her catching a glimpse of a substantial fact behind

him, in the shape of a gentleman attired in mourning, and cloaked and booted like a rider on horseback, who

stood at the bardoor. He seemed attentive to their conversation, and not at all impatient to interrupt it.

Clemency hastily rose at this sight. Mr. Britain also rose and saluted the guest. 'Will you please to walk

'Thank you,' said the stranger, looking earnestly at Mr. Britain's wife. 'May I come in here?'

He made no answer; but, turning round, when he had finished reading, looked at Clemency with the same

observant curiosity as before. 'You were asking me,' he said, still looking at her, 'What you would please

'If you will let me have a draught of ale,' he said, moving to a table by the window, 'and will let me have it

here, without being any interruption to your meal, I shall be much obliged to you.' He sat down as he spoke,

without any further parley, and looked out at the prospect. He was an easy, wellknit figure of a man in the

prime of life. His face, much browned by the sun, was shaded by a quantity of dark hair; and he wore a

moustache. His beer being set before him, he filled out a glass, and drank, goodhumouredly, to the house;

'I think I heard you mention Dr. Jeddler's name, as I came in,' inquired the stranger. 'That bill reminds me of

him; for I happen to know something of that story, by hearsay, and through certain connexions of mine. Is

'Yes! he's greatly changed since then,' said Clemency. 'He's grey and old, and hasn't the same way with him at

all; but, I think he's happy now. He has taken on with his sister since then, and goes to see her very often.

That did him good, directly. At first, he was sadly broken down; and it was enough to make one's heart bleed,

to see him wandering about, railing at the world; but a great change for the better came over him after a year

or two, and then he began to like to talk about his lost daughter, and to praise her, ay and the world too! and

was never tired of saying, with the tears in his poor eyes, how beautiful and good she was. He had forgiven

her then. That was about the same time as Miss Grace's marriage. Britain, you remember?'

'The sister is married then,' returned the stranger. He paused for some time before he asked, 'To whom?'

Clemency narrowly escaped oversetting the teaboard, in her emotion at this question.

'I should like to hear,' he replied, as he filled his glass again, and raised it to his lips.

'Ah! It would be a long story, if it was properly told,' said Clemency, resting her chin on the palm of her left

hand, and supporting that elbow on her right hand, as she shook her head, and looked back through the

intervening years, as if she were looking at a fire. 'It would be a long story, I am sure.'

Told as a short one,' repeated Clemency in the same thoughtful tone, and without any apparent reference to

him, or consciousness of having auditors, 'what would there be to tell? That they grieved together, and

remembered her together, like a person dead; that they were so tender of her, never would reproach her,

called her back to one another as she used to be, and found excuses for her! Every one knows that. I'm sure I

'And so,' said Clemency, taking him up mechanically, and without any change in her attitude or manner, 'they

at last were married. They were married on her birthday it comes round again tomorrow very quiet,

very humble like, but very happy. Mr. Alfred said, one night when they were walking in the orchard, "Grace,

'Ay,' said Clemency. 'No two people ever more so. They have had no sorrow but this.'

She raised her head as with a sudden attention to the circumstances under which she was recalling these

events, and looked quickly at the stranger. Seeing that his face was turned toward the window, and that he

seemed intent upon the prospect, she made some eager signs to her husband, and pointed to the bill, and

moved her mouth as if she were repeating with great energy, one word or phrase to him over and over again.

As she uttered no sound, and as her dumb motions like most of her gestures were of a very extraordinary

kind, this unintelligible conduct reduced Mr. Britain to the confines of despair. He stared at the table, at the

stranger, at the spoons, at his wife followed her pantomime with looks of deep amazement and perplexity

asked in the same language, was it property in danger, was it he in danger, was it she answered her signals

with other signals expressive of the deepest distress and confusion followed the motions of her lips

guessed half aloud 'milk and water,' 'monthly warning,' 'mice and walnuts' and couldn't approach her

Clemency gave it up at last, as a hopeless attempt; and moving her chair by very slow degrees a little nearer

to the stranger, sat with her eyes apparently cast down but glancing sharply at him now and then, waiting

until he should ask some other question. She had not to wait long; for he said, presently:

'And what is the after history of the young lady who went away? They know it, I suppose?'

Clemency shook her head. 'I've heard,' she said, 'that Doctor Jeddler is thought to know more of it than he

tells. Miss Grace has had letters from her sister, saying that she was well and happy, and made much happier

by her being married to Mr. Alfred: and has written letters back. But there's a mystery about her life and

'Which only one other person, I believe, could explain,' said Clemency, drawing her breath quickly.

'Mr. Michael Warden!' answered Clemency, almost in a shriek: at once conveying to her husband what she

would have had him understand before, and letting Michael Warden know that he was recognised.

'You remember me, sir?' said Clemency, trembling with emotion; 'I saw just now you did! You remember

'Yes, sir,' returned Clemency. 'Yes, to be sure. This is my husband, if you please. Ben, my dear Ben, run to

Miss Grace run to Mr. Alfred run somewhere, Ben! Bring somebody here, directly!'

'Stay!' said Michael Warden, quietly interposing himself between the door and Britain. 'What would you do?'

'Let them know that you are here, sir,' answered Clemency, clapping her hands in sheer agitation. 'Let them

know that they may hear of her, from your own lips; let them know that she is not quite lost to them, but that

she will come home again yet, to bless her father and her loving sister even her old servant, even me,' she

struck herself upon the breast with both hands, 'with a sight of her sweet face. Run, Ben, run!' And still she

pressed him on towards the door, and still Mr. Warden stood before it, with his hand stretched out, not

'Or perhaps,' said Clemency, running past her husband, and catching in her emotion at Mr. Warden's cloak,

'perhaps she's here now; perhaps she's close by. I think from your manner she is. Let me see her, sir, if you

please. I waited on her when she was a little child. I saw her grow to be the pride of all this place. I knew her

when she was Mr. Alfred's promised wife. I tried to warn her when you tempted her away. I know what her

old home was when she was like the soul of it, and how it changed when she was gone and lost. Let me speak

He gazed at her with compassion, not unmixed with wonder: but, he made no gesture of assent.

'I don't think she CAN know,' pursued Clemency, 'how truly they forgive her; how they love her; what joy it

would be to them, to see her once more. She may be timorous of going home. Perhaps if she sees me, it may

This answer, and his manner, and his black dress, and his coming back so quietly, and his announced

He didn't contradict her; yes, she was dead! Clemency sat down, hid her face upon the table, and cried.

At that moment, a greyheaded old gentleman came running in: quite out of breath, and panting so much that

'Good Heaven, Mr. Warden!' said the lawyer, taking him aside, 'what wind has blown ' He was so blown

himself, that he couldn't get on any further until after a pause, when he added, feebly, 'you here?'

'An illwind, I am afraid,' he answered. 'If you could have heard what has just passed how I have been

besought and entreated to perform impossibilities what confusion and affliction I carry with me!'

'I can guess it all. But why did you ever come here, my good sir?' retorted Snitchey.

'Come! How should I know who kept the house? When I sent my servant on to you, I strolled in here because

the place was new to me; and I had a natural curiosity in everything new and old, in these old scenes; and it

was outside the town. I wanted to communicate with you, first, before appearing there. I wanted to know

what people would say to me. I see by your manner that you can tell me. If it were not for your confounded

'Our caution!' returned the lawyer, 'speaking for Self and Craggs deceased,' here Mr. Snitchey, glancing at

his hatband, shook his head, 'how can you reasonably blame us, Mr. Warden? It was understood between us

that the subject was never to be renewed, and that it wasn't a subject on which grave and sober men like us (I

made a note of your observations at the time) could interfere. Our caution too! When Mr. Craggs, sir, went

'I had given a solemn promise of silence until I should return, whenever that might be,' interrupted Mr.

'Well, sir, and I repeat it,' returned Mr. Snitchey, 'we were bound to silence too. We were bound to silence in

our duty towards ourselves, and in our duty towards a variety of clients, you among them, who were as close

as wax. It was not our place to make inquiries of you on such a delicate subject. I had my suspicions, sir; but,

it is not six months since I have known the truth, and been assured that you lost her.'

'By Doctor Jeddler himself, sir, who at last reposed that confidence in me voluntarily. He, and only he, has

'I do, sir!' replied Snitchey; 'and I have also reason to know that it will be broken to her sister tomorrow

evening. They have given her that promise. In the meantime, perhaps you'll give me the honour of your

company at my house; being unexpected at your own. But, not to run the chance of any more such difficulties

as you have had here, in case you should be recognised though you're a good deal changed; I think I might

have passed you myself, Mr. Warden we had better dine here, and walk on in the evening. It's a very good

place to dine at, Mr. Warden: your own property, by thebye. Self and Craggs (deceased) took a chop here

sometimes, and had it very comfortably served. Mr. Craggs, sir,' said Snitchey, shutting his eyes tight for an

'Heaven forgive me for not condoling with you,' returned Michael Warden, passing his hand across his

forehead, 'but I'm like a man in a dream at present. I seem to want my wits. Mr. Craggs yes I am very

sorry we have lost Mr. Craggs.' But he looked at Clemency as he said it, and seemed to sympathise with Ben,

'Mr. Craggs, sir,' observed Snitchey, 'didn't find life, I regret to say, as easy to have and to hold as his theory

made it out, or he would have been among us now. It's a great loss to me. He was my right arm, my right leg,

my right ear, my right eye, was Mr. Craggs. I am paralytic without him. He bequeathed his share of the

business to Mrs. Craggs, her executors, administrators, and assigns. His name remains in the Firm to this

hour. I try, in a childish sort of a way, to make believe, sometimes, he's alive. You may observe that I speak

for Self and Craggs deceased, sir deceased,' said the tenderhearted attorney, waving his pocket

Michael Warden, who had still been observant of Clemency, turned to Mr. Snitchey when he ceased to speak,

'Ah, poor thing!' said Snitchey, shaking his head. 'Yes. She was always very faithful to Marion. She was

always very fond of her. Pretty Marion! Poor Marion! Cheer up, Mistress you are married now, you know,

'No. It can't do that, or it would bring back Mr. Craggs, deceased,' returned the lawyer. 'But it may bring some

So Clemency, shaking his proffered hand, said she would; and Britain, who had been terribly cast down at

sight of his despondent wife (which was like the business hanging its head), said that was right; and Mr.

Snitchey and Michael Warden went upstairs; and there they were soon engaged in a conversation so

cautiously conducted, that no murmur of it was audible above the clatter of plates and dishes, the hissing of

the fryingpan, the bubbling of saucepans, the low monotonous waltzing of the jack with a dreadful click

every now and then as if it had met with some mortal accident to its head, in a fit of giddiness and all the

Tomorrow was a bright and peaceful day; and nowhere were the autumn tints more beautifully seen, than

from the quiet orchard of the Doctor's house. The snows of many winter nights had melted from that ground,

the withered leaves of many summer times had rustled there, since she had fled. The honeysuckle porch was

green again, the trees cast bountiful and changing shadows on the grass, the landscape was as tranquil and

Not there. Not there. She would have been a stranger sight in her old home now, even than that home had

been at first, without her. But, a lady sat in the familiar place, from whose heart she had never passed away;

in whose true memory she lived, unchanging, youthful, radiant with all promise and all hope; in whose

affection and it was a mother's now, there was a cherished little daughter playing by her side she had no

The spirit of the lost girl looked out of those eyes. Those eyes of Grace, her sister, sitting with her husband in

He had not become a great man; he had not grown rich; he had not forgotten the scenes and friends of his

youth; he had not fulfilled any one of the Doctor's old predictions. But, in his useful, patient, unknown

visiting of poor men's homes; and in his watching of sick beds; and in his daily knowledge of the gentleness

and goodness flowering the bypaths of this world, not to be trodden down beneath the heavy foot of

poverty, but springing up, elastic, in its track, and making its way beautiful; he had better learned and proved,

in each succeeding year, the truth of his old faith. The manner of his life, though quiet and remote, had shown

him how often men still entertained angels, unawares, as in the olden time; and how the most unlikely forms

even some that were mean and ugly to the view, and poorly clad became irradiated by the couch of

sorrow, want, and pain, and changed to ministering spirits with a glory round their heads.

He lived to better purpose on the altered battleground, perhaps, than if he had contended restlessly in more

'The time has flown, dear Grace,' he said, 'since then;' they had been talking of that night; 'and yet it seems a

'Yet we have years to count by, too, since Marion was with us,' returned Grace. 'Six times, dear husband,

counting tonight as one, we have sat here on her birthday, and spoken together of that happy return, so

Her husband attentively observed her, as the tears collected in her eyes; and drawing nearer, said:

'But, Marion told you, in that farewell letter which she left for you upon your table, love, and which you read

'That through these intervening years, however happy she might be, she would look forward to the time when

you would meet again, and all would be made clear; and that she prayed you, trustfully and hopefully to do

'Except the last some months ago in which she spoke of you, and what you then knew, and what I was to

He looked towards the sun, then fast declining, and said that the appointed time was sunset.

'Alfred!' said Grace, laying her hand upon his shoulder earnestly, 'there is something in this letter this old

letter, which you say I read so often that I have never told you. But, tonight, dear husband, with that

sunset drawing near, and all our life seeming to soften and become hushed with the departing day, I cannot

'When Marion went away, she wrote me, here, that you had once left her a sacred trust to me, and that now

she left you, Alfred, such a trust in my hands: praying and beseeching me, as I loved her, and as I loved you,

not to reject the affection she believed (she knew, she said) you would transfer to me when the new wound

'She meant, to make myself so blest and honoured in your love,' was his wife's answer, as he held her in his

'Hear me, my dear!' he said. 'No. Hear me so!' and as he spoke, he gently laid the head she had raised,

again upon his shoulder. 'I know why I have never heard this passage in the letter, until now. I know why no

trace of it ever showed itself in any word or look of yours at that time. I know why Grace, although so true a

friend to me, was hard to win to be my wife. And knowing it, my own! I know the priceless value of the heart

She wept, but not for sorrow, as he pressed her to his heart. After a brief space, he looked down at the child,

who was sitting at their feet playing with a little basket of flowers, and bade her look how golden and how

'Alfred,' said Grace, raising her head quickly at these words. 'The sun is going down. You have not forgotten

'All the truth,' she said, imploringly. 'Nothing veiled from me, any more. That was the promise. Was it not?'

'Before the sun went down on Marion's birthday. And you see it, Alfred? It is sinking fast.'

'That truth is not reserved so long for me to tell, dear Grace. It is to come from other lips.'

'Yes. I know your constant heart, I know how brave you are, I know that to you a word of preparation is

enough. You have said, truly, that the time is come. It is. Tell me that you have present fortitude to bear a trial

'I am pledged,' he answered her, preserving his steady look, 'to say no more. Do you think you understand

There was that emotion in his face, despite its steady gaze, which frightened her. Again she hid her own face

'Courage, my wife! When you have firmness to receive the messenger, the messenger is waiting at the gate.

She raised her head, and, looking at him, told him she was ready. As she stood, and looked upon him going

away, her face was so like Marion's as it had been in her later days at home, that it was wonderful to see. He

took the child with him. She called her back she bore the lost girl's name and pressed her to her bosom.

The little creature, being released again, sped after him, and Grace was left alone.

She knew not what she dreaded, or what hoped; but remained there, motionless, looking at the porch by

Ah! what was that, emerging from its shadow; standing on its threshold! That figure, with its white garments

rustling in the evening air; its head laid down upon her father's breast, and pressed against it to his loving

heart! O God! was it a vision that came bursting from the old man's arms, and with a cry, and with a waving

of its hands, and with a wild precipitation of itself upon her in its boundless love, sank down in her embrace!

'Oh, Marion, Marion! Oh, my sister! Oh, my heart's dear love! Oh, joy and happiness unutterable, so to meet

It was no dream, no phantom conjured up by hope and fear, but Marion, sweet Marion! So beautiful, so

happy, so unalloyed by care and trial, so elevated and exalted in her loveliness, that as the setting sun shone

brightly on her upturned face, she might have been a spirit visiting the earth upon some healing mission.

Clinging to her sister, who had dropped upon a seat and bent down over her and smiling through her tears

and kneeling, close before her, with both arms twining round her, and never turning for an instant from her

face and with the glory of the setting sun upon her brow, and with the soft tranquillity of evening gathering

around them Marion at length broke silence; her voice, so calm, low, clear, and pleasant, welltuned to the

'When this was my dear home, Grace, as it will be now again, I loved him from my soul. I loved him most

devotedly. I would have died for him, though I was so young. I never slighted his affection in my secret

breast for one brief instant. It was far beyond all price to me. Although it is so long ago, and past, and gone,

and everything is wholly changed, I could not bear to think that you, who love so well, should think I did not

truly love him once. I never loved him better, Grace, than when he left this very scene upon this very day. I

'But he had gained, unconsciously,' said Marion, with a gentle smile, 'another heart, before I knew that I had

one to give him. That heart yours, my sister! was so yielded up, in all its other tenderness, to me; was so

devoted, and so noble; that it plucked its love away, and kept its secret from all eyes but mine Ah! what

other eyes were quickened by such tenderness and gratitude! and was content to sacrifice itself to me. But, I

knew something of its depths. I knew the struggle it had made. I knew its high, inestimable worth to him, and

his appreciation of it, let him love me as he would. I knew the debt I owed it. I had its great example every

day before me. What you had done for me, I knew that I could do, Grace, if I would, for you. I never laid my

head down on my pillow, but I prayed with tears to do it. I never laid my head down on my pillow, but I

thought of Alfred's own words on the day of his departure, and how truly he had said (for I knew that,

knowing you) that there were victories gained every day, in struggling hearts, to which these fields of battle

were nothing. Thinking more and more upon the great endurance cheerfully sustained, and never known or

cared for, that there must be, every day and hour, in that great strife of which he spoke, my trial seemed to

grow light and easy. And He who knows our hearts, my dearest, at this moment, and who knows there is no

drop of bitterness or grief of anything but unmixed happiness in mine, enabled me to make the resolution

that I never would be Alfred's wife. That he should be my brother, and your husband, if the course I took

could bring that happy end to pass; but that I never would (Grace, I then loved him dearly, dearly!) be his

'I had tried to seem indifferent to him;' and she pressed her sister's face against her own; 'but that was hard,

and you were always his true advocate. I had tried to tell you of my resolution, but you would never hear me;

you would never understand me. The time was drawing near for his return. I felt that I must act, before the

daily intercourse between us was renewed. I knew that one great pang, undergone at that time, would save a

lengthened agony to all of us. I knew that if I went away then, that end must follow which HAS followed, and

which has made us both so happy, Grace! I wrote to good Aunt Martha, for a refuge in her house: I did not

then tell her all, but something of my story, and she freely promised it. While I was contesting that step with

myself, and with my love of you, and home, Mr. Warden, brought here by an accident, became, for some

'I have sometimes feared of late years, that this might have been,' exclaimed her sister; and her countenance

was ashypale. 'You never loved him and you married him in your selfsacrifice to me!'

'He was then,' said Marion, drawing her sister closer to her, 'on the eve of going secretly away for a long time.

He wrote to me, after leaving here; told me what his condition and prospects really were; and offered me his

hand. He told me he had seen I was not happy in the prospect of Alfred's return. I believe he thought my heart

had no part in that contract; perhaps thought I might have loved him once, and did not then; perhaps thought

that when I tried to seem indifferent, I tried to hide indifference I cannot tell. But I wished that you should

feel me wholly lost to Alfred hopeless to him dead. Do you understand me, love?'

'I saw Mr. Warden, and confided in his honour; charged him with my secret, on the eve of his and my

'My love, my sister!' said Marion, 'recall your thoughts a moment; listen to me. Do not look so strangely on

me. There are countries, dearest, where those who would abjure a misplaced passion, or would strive, against

some cherished feeling of their hearts and conquer it, retire into a hopeless solitude, and close the world

against themselves and worldly loves and hopes for ever. When women do so, they assume that name which

is so dear to you and me, and call each other Sisters. But, there may be sisters, Grace, who, in the broad world

out of doors, and underneath its free sky, and in its crowded places, and among its busy life, and trying to

assist and cheer it and to do some good, learn the same lesson; and who, with hearts still fresh and young,

and open to all happiness and means of happiness, can say the battle is long past, the victory long won. And

'Oh Grace, dear Grace,' said Marion, clinging yet more tenderly and fondly to that breast from which she had

been so long exiled, 'if you were not a happy wife and mother if I had no little namesake here if Alfred,

my kind brother, were not your own fond husband from whence could I derive the ecstasy I feel tonight!

But, as I left here, so I have returned. My heart has known no other love, my hand has never been bestowed

apart from it. I am still your maiden sister, unmarried, unbetrothed: your own loving old Marion, in whose

She understood her now. Her face relaxed: sobs came to her relief; and falling on her neck, she wept and

When they were more composed, they found that the Doctor, and his sister good Aunt Martha, were standing

'This is a weary day for me,' said good Aunt Martha, smiling through her tears, as she embraced her nieces;

'for I lose my dear companion in making you all happy; and what can you give me, in return for my Marion?'

'Well, I won't,' replied Aunt Martha. 'But, I consider myself ill used. I don't know what's to become of me

'You must come and live here, I suppose,' replied the Doctor. 'We shan't quarrel now, Martha.'

'Indeed,' returned the old lady, 'I think it might be a good speculation if I were to set my cap at Michael

Warden, who, I hear, is come home much the better for his absence in all respects. But as I knew him when

he was a boy, and I was not a very young woman then, perhaps he mightn't respond. So I'll make up my mind

to go and live with Marion, when she marries, and until then (it will not be very long, I dare say) to live

'I've a great mind to say it's a ridiculous world altogether, and there's nothing serious in it,' observed the poor

'You might take twenty affidavits of it if you chose, Anthony,' said his sister; 'but nobody would believe you

'It's a world full of hearts,' said the Doctor, hugging his youngest daughter, and bending across her to hug

Grace for he couldn't separate the sisters; 'and a serious world, with all its folly even with mine, which

was enough to have swamped the whole globe; and it is a world on which the sun never rises, but it looks

upon a thousand bloodless battles that are some setoff against the miseries and wickedness of BattleFields;

and it is a world we need be careful how we libel, Heaven forgive us, for it is a world of sacred mysteries,

and its Creator only knows what lies beneath the surface of His lightest image!'

You would not be the better pleased with my rude pen, if it dissected and laid open to your view the

transports of this family, long severed and now reunited. Therefore, I will not follow the poor Doctor through

his humbled recollection of the sorrow he had had, when Marion was lost to him; nor, will I tell how serious

he had found that world to be, in which some love, deepanchored, is the portion of all human creatures; nor,

how such a trifle as the absence of one little unit in the great absurd account, had stricken him to the ground.

Nor, how, in compassion for his distress, his sister had, long ago, revealed the truth to him by slow degrees,

and brought him to the knowledge of the heart of his selfbanished daughter, and to that daughter's side.

Nor, how Alfred Heathfield had been told the truth, too, in the course of that then current year; and Marion

had seen him, and had promised him, as her brother, that on her birthday, in the evening, Grace should

'I beg your pardon, Doctor,' said Mr. Snitchey, looking into the orchard, 'but have I liberty to come in?'

Without waiting for permission, he came straight to Marion, and kissed her hand, quite joyfully.

'If Mr. Craggs had been alive, my dear Miss Marion,' said Mr. Snitchey, 'he would have had great interest in

this occasion. It might have suggested to him, Mr. Alfred, that our life is not too easy perhaps: that, taken

altogether, it will bear any little smoothing we can give it; but Mr. Craggs was a man who could endure to be

convinced, sir. He was always open to conviction. If he were open to conviction, now, I this is weakness.

Mrs. Snitchey, my dear,' at his summons that lady appeared from behind the door, 'you are among old

'One moment, Mr. Snitchey,' said that lady. 'It is not in my nature to rake up the ashes of the departed.'

'But I ask you if you recollect,' pursued his wife, 'that evening of the ball? I only ask you that. If you do; and

if your memory has not entirely failed you, Mr. Snitchey; and if you are not absolutely in your dotage; I ask

you to connect this time with that to remember how I begged and prayed you, on my knees '

'Yes,' said Mrs. Snitchey, confidently, 'and you know it to beware of that man to observe his eye and

now to tell me whether I was right, and whether at that moment he knew secrets which he didn't choose to

'Mrs. Snitchey,' returned her husband, in her ear, 'Madam. Did you ever observe anything in MY eye?'

'Because, Madam, that night,' he continued, twitching her by the sleeve, 'it happens that we both knew secrets

which we didn't choose to tell, and both knew just the same professionally. And so the less you say about

such things the better, Mrs. Snitchey; and take this as a warning to have wiser and more charitable eyes

another time. Miss Marion, I brought a friend of yours along with me. Here! Mistress!'

Poor Clemency, with her apron to her eyes, came slowly in, escorted by her husband; the latter doleful with

the presentiment, that if she abandoned herself to grief, the NutmegGrater was done for.

'Now, Mistress,' said the lawyer, checking Marion as she ran towards her, and interposing himself between

'The matter!' cried poor Clemency. When, looking up in wonder, and in indignant remonstrance, and in the

added emotion of a great roar from Mr. Britain, and seeing that sweet face so well remembered close before

her, she stared, sobbed, laughed, cried, screamed, embraced her, held her fast, released her, fell on Mr.

Snitchey and embraced him (much to Mrs. Snitchey's indignation), fell on the Doctor and embraced him, fell

on Mr. Britain and embraced him, and concluded by embracing herself, throwing her apron over her head,

A stranger had come into the orchard, after Mr. Snitchey, and had remained apart, near the gate, without

being observed by any of the group; for they had little spare attention to bestow, and that had been

monopolised by the ecstasies of Clemency. He did not appear to wish to be observed, but stood alone, with

downcast eyes; and there was an air of dejection about him (though he was a gentleman of a gallant

None but the quick eyes of Aunt Martha, however, remarked him at all; but, almost as soon as she espied

him, she was in conversation with him. Presently, going to where Marion stood with Grace and her little

namesake, she whispered something in Marion's ear, at which she started, and appeared surprised; but soon

recovering from her confusion, she timidly approached the stranger, in Aunt Martha's company, and engaged

'Mr. Britain,' said the lawyer, putting his hand in his pocket, and bringing out a legallooking document,

while this was going on, 'I congratulate you. You are now the whole and sole proprietor of that freehold

tenement, at present occupied and held by yourself as a licensed tavern, or house of public entertainment, and

commonly called or known by the sign of the NutmegGrater. Your wife lost one house, through my client

Mr. Michael Warden; and now gains another. I shall have the pleasure of canvassing you for the county, one

'Would it make any difference in the vote if the sign was altered, sir?' asked Britain.

'Then,' said Mr. Britain, handing him back the conveyance, 'just clap in the words, "and Thimble," will you be

so good; and I'll have the two mottoes painted up in the parlour instead of my wife's portrait.'

'And let me,' said a voice behind them; it was the stranger's Michael Warden's; 'let me claim the benefit of

those inscriptions. Mr. Heathfield and Dr. Jeddler, I might have deeply wronged you both. That I did not, is

no virtue of my own. I will not say that I am six years wiser than I was, or better. But I have known, at any

rate, that term of selfreproach. I can urge no reason why you should deal gently with me. I abused the

hospitality of this house; and learnt by my own demerits, with a shame I never have forgotten, yet with some

profit too, I would fain hope, from one,' he glanced at Marion, 'to whom I made my humble supplication for

forgiveness, when I knew her merit and my deep unworthiness. In a few days I shall quit this place for ever. I

TIME from whom I had the latter portion of this story, and with whom I have the pleasure of a personal

acquaintance of some five andthirty years' duration informed me, leaning easily upon his scythe, that

Michael Warden never went away again, and never sold his house, but opened it afresh, maintained a golden

means of hospitality, and had a wife, the pride and honour of that countryside, whose name was Marion. But,

as I have observed that Time confuses facts occasionally, I hardly know what weight to give to his authority.