Miss or Mrs.? .......................................................................................................................................................1

Wilkie Collins..........................................................................................................................................1

The night had come to an end. The newborn day waited for its quickening light in the silence that is never

Not a breath came from the dead air. Not a ripple stirred on the motionless water. Nothing changed but the

softlygrowing light; nothing moved but the lazy mist, curling up to meet the sun, its master, on the eastward

sea. By fine gradations, the airy veil of morning thinned in substance as it rosethinned, till there dawned

through it in the first rays of sunlight the tall white sails of a Schooner Yacht.

But one living creature was on deckthe man at the helm, dozing peaceably with his arm over the useless

tiller. Minute by minute the light grew, and the heat grew with it; and still the helmsman slumbered, the

heavy sails hung noiseless, the quiet water lay sleeping against the vessel's sides. The whole orb of the sun

was visible above the waterline, when the first sound pierced its way through the morning silence. From far

off over the shining white ocean, the cry of a seabird reached the yacht on a sudden out of the last airy

The sleeper at the helm woke; looked up at the idle sails, and yawned in sympathy with them; looked out at

the sea on either side of him, and shook his head obstinately at the superior obstinacy of the calm.

"Blow, my little breeze!" said the man, whistling the sailor's invocation to the wind softly between his teeth.

"How's her head?" cried a bold and brassy voice, hailing the deck from the cabin staircase.

Behold Richard Turlington, Esq., of the great Levant firm of Pizzituti, Turlington & Branca! Aged

eightandthirty; standing stiffly and sturdily at a height of not more than five feet six Mr. Turlington

presented to the view of his fellowcreatures a face of the perpendicular order of human architecture. His

forehead was a straight line, his upper lip was another, his chin was the straightest and the longest line of all.

As he turned his swarthy countenance eastward, and shaded his light gray eyes from the sun, his knotty hand

plainly revealed that it had got him his living by its own labor at one time or another in his life. Taken on the

whole, this was a man whom it might be easy to respect, but whom it would be hard to love. Better company

at the official desk than at the social table. Morally and physicallyif the expression may be permitteda

"A calm yesterday," grumbled Richard Turlington, looking with stubborn deliberation all round him. "And a

calm today. Ha! next season I'll have the vessel fitted with engines. I hate this!"

"Think of the filthy coals, and the infernal vibration, and leave your beautiful schooner as she is. We are out

Pronouncing those words of remonstrance, a slim, nimble, curlyheaded young gentleman joined Richard

Turlington on deck, with his clothes under his arm, his towels in his hand, and nothing on him but the

"Launcelot Linzie, you have been received on board my vessel in the capacity of medical attendant on Miss

Natalie Graybrooke, at her father's request. Keep your place, if you please. When I want your advice, I'll ask

you for it." Answering in those terms, the elder man fixed his colorless gray eyes on the younger with an

expression which added plainly, "There won't be room enough in this schooner much longer for me and for

Launcelot Linzie had his reasons (apparently) for declining to let his host offend him on any terms whatever.

"Thank you!" he rejoined, in a tone of satirical good humor. "It isn't easy to keep my place on board your

vessel. I can't help presuming to enjoy myself as if I was the owner. The life is such a new oneto me!>/I>

It's so delightfully easy, for instance, to wash yourself here. On shore it's a complicated question of jugs and

basins and tubs; one is always in danger of breaking something, or spoiling something. Here you have only to

He turned, and scampered to the bows of the vessel. In one instant he was out of his nightgown, in another

he was on the bulwark, in a third he was gamboling luxuriously in sixty fathoms of saltwater.

Turlington's eyes followed him with a reluctant, uneasy attention as he swam round the vessel, the only

moving object in view. Turlington's mind, steady and slow in all its operations, set him a problem to be

"Launcelot Linzie is fifteen years younger than I am. Add to that, Launcelot Linzie is Natalie Graybrooke's

Turning that question slowly over and over in his mind, Richard Turlington seated himself in a corner at the

stern of the vessel. He was still at work on the problem, when the young surgeon returned to his cabin to put

the finishing touches to his toilet. He had not reached the solution when the steward appeared an hour later

First, Sir Joseph Graybrooke. Inheritor of a handsome fortune made by his father and his grandfather in trade.

Mayor, twice elected, of a thriving provincial town. Officially privileged, while holding that dignity, to hand

a silver trowel to a royal personage condescending to lay a first stone of a charitable edifice. Knighted,

accordingly, in honor of the occasion. Worthy of the honor and worthy of the occasion. A type of his

eminently respectable class. Possessed of an amiable, rosy face, and soft, silky white hair. Sound in his

principles; tidy in his dress; blessed with moderate politics and a good digestiona harmless, healthy,

Secondly, Miss Lavinia Graybrooke, Sir Joseph's maiden sister. Personally, Sir Joseph in petticoats. If you

She had inherited the personal appearance and the temperament of her motherdead many years since.

There had been a mixture of Negro blood and French blood in the late Lady Graybrooke's family, settled

originally in Martinique. Natalie had her mother's warm dusky color, her mother's superb black hair, and her

mother's melting, lazy, lovely brown eyes. At fifteen years of age (dating from her last birthday) she

possessed the development of the bosom and limbs which in England is rarely attained before twenty.

Everything about the girlexcept her little rosy earswas on a grand Amazonian scale. Her shapely hand

was long and large; her supple waist was the waist of a woman. The indolent grace of all her movements had

its motive power in an almost masculine firmness of action and profusion of physical resource. This

remarkable bodily development was far from being accompanied by any corresponding development of

character. Natalie's manner was the gentle, innocent manner of a young girl. She had her father's sweet

temper ingrafted on her mother's variable Southern nature. She moved like a goddess, and she laughed like a

child. Signs of maturing too rapidlyof outgrowing her strength, as the phr ase wenthad made their

appearance in Sir Joseph's daughter during the spring. The family doctor had suggested a seavoyage, as a

wise manner of employing the fine summer months. Richard Turlington's yacht was placed at her disposal,

with Richard Turlington himself included as one of the fixtures of the vessel. With her father and her aunt to

keep up round her the atmosphere of homewith Cousin Launcelot (more commonly known as "Launce") to

carry out, if necessary, the medical treatment prescribed by superior authority on shorethe lovely invalid

embarked on her summer cruise, and sprang up into a new existence in the lifegiving breezes of the sea.

After two happy months of lazy coasting round the shores of England, all that remained of Natalie's illness

was represented by a delicious languor in her eyes, and an utter inability to devote herself to anything which

took the shape of a serious occupation. As she sat at the cabin breakfasttable that morning, in her

quaintlymade sailing dress of oldfashioned nankeenher inbred childishness of manner contrasting

delightfully with the blooming maturity of her formthe man must have been trebly armed indeed in the

modern philosophy who could have denied that the first of a woman's rights is the right of being beautiful;

The other two persons present at the table were the two gentlemen who have already appeared on the deck of

"Not a breath of wind stirring!" said Richard Turlington. "The weather has got a grudge against us. We have

drifted about four or five miles in the last eightandforty hours. You will never take another cruise with

He addressed himself to Natalie; plainly eager to make himself agreeable to the young ladyand plainly

unsuccessful in producing any impression on her. She made a civil answer; and looked at her teacup, instead

"You might fancy yourself on shore at this moment," said Launce. "The vessel is as steady as a house, and

the swingtable we are eating our breakfast on is as even as your diningroom table at home."

He too addressed himself to Natalie, but without betraying the anxiety to please her which had been shown by

the other. For all that, he diverted the girl's attention from her teacup; and his idea instantly awakened a

"It will be so strange on shore," she said, "to find myself in a room that never turns on one side, and to sit at a

table that never tilts down to my knees at one time, or rises up to my chin at another. How I shall miss the

wash of the water at my ear, and the ring of the bell on deck. when I am awake at night on land! No interest

there in how the wind blows, or how the sails are set. No asking your way of the sun, when you are lost, with

a little brass instrument and a morsel of pencil and paper. No delightful wandering wherever the wind takes

you, without the worry of planning beforehand where you are to go. Oh how I shall miss the dear,

This to the guest admitted on board on sufferance, and not one word of it addressed, even by chance, to the

Richard Turlington's heavy eyebrows contracted with an unmistakable expression of pain.

"If this calm weather holds," he went on, addressing himself to Sir Joseph, "I am afraid, Graybrooke, I shall

not be able to bring you back to the port we sailed from by the end of the week."

"Whenever you like, Richard," answered the old gentleman, resignedly. "Any time will do for me."

"Any time within reasonable limits, Joseph," said Miss Lavinia, evidently feeling that her brother was

conceding too much. She spoke with Sir Joseph's amiable smile and Sir Joseph's softlypitched voice. Two

While these few words were being exchanged among the elders, a private communication was in course of

progress between the two young people under the cabin table. Natalie's smartlyslippered foot felt its way

cautiously inch by inch over the carpet till it touched Launce's boot. Launce, devouring his breakfast,

instantly looked up from his plate, and then, at a second touch from Natalie, looked down again in a violent

hurry. After pausing to make sure that she was not noticed, Natalie took up her knife. Under a

perfectlyacted pretense of toying with it absently, in the character of a young lady absorbed in thought, she

began dividing a morsel of ham left on the edge of her plate, into six tiny pieces. Launce's eye looked in

sidelong expectation at the divided and subdivided ham. He was evidently waiting to see the collection of

morsels put to some telegraphic use, previously determined on between his neighbor and himself.

In the meanwhile the talk proceeded among the other persons at the breakfasttable. Miss Lavinia addressed

"Do you know, you careless boy, you gave me a fright this morning? I was sleeping with my cabin window

open, and I was awoke by an awful splash in the water. I called for the stewardess. I declare I thought

Sir Joseph looked up briskly; his sister had accidentally touched on an old association.

"Talk of falling overboard," he began, "reminds me of an extraordinary adventure"

"It shan't occur again, Miss Lavinia," he said. "Tomorrow morning I'll oil myself all over, and slip into the

"Of an extraordinary adventure," persisted Sir Joseph, "which happened to me many years ago, when I was a

He stopped, and looked interrogatively at his sister. Miss Graybrooke nodded her head responsively, and

settled herself in her chair, as if summoning her attention in anticipation of a coming demand on it. To

persons well acquainted with the brother and sister these proceedings were ominous of an impending

narrative, protracted to a formidable length. The two always told a story in couples, and always differed with

each other about the facts, the sister politely contradicting the brother when it was Sir Joseph's story, and the

brother politely contradicting the sister when it was Miss Lavinia's story. Separated one from the other, and

thus relieved of their own habitual interchange of contradiction, neither of them had ever been known to

"Let us waive the point." (Sir Joseph invariably used this formula as a means of at once conciliating his sister,

and getting a fresh start for his story.) "I was cruising off the Mersey in a Liverpool pilotboat. I had hired

the boat in company with a friend of mine, formerly notorious in London society, under the nickname

"My dear Lavinia, you are thinking of 'Seagreen Shaw,' so called from the extraordinary liveries he adopted

Richard Turlington's knotty fingers drummed impatiently on the table. He looked toward Natalie. She was

idly arranging her little morsels of ham in a pattern on her plate. Launcelot Linzie, still more idly, was

looking at the pattern. Seeing what he saw now, Richard solved the problem which had puzzled him on deck.

It was simply impossible that Natalie's fancy could be really taken by such an emptyheaded fool as that!

"Excuse me, brother, the late great and good Doctor Johnson said accuracy ought always to be studied even

"Let us waive the point. Mahogany Dobbs and I happened to be below in the cabin, occupied"

Here Sir Joseph paused (with his amiable smile) to consult his memory. Miss Lavinia waited (with her

amiable smile) for the coming opportunity of setting her brother right. At the same moment Natalie laid down

her knife and softly touched Launce under the table. When she thus claimed his attention the six pieces of

ham were arranged as follows in her plate: Two pieces were placed opposite each other, and four pieces were

ranged perpendicularly under them. Launce looked, and twice touched Natalie under the table. Interpreted by

the Code agreed on between the two, the signal in the plate meant, "I must see you in private." And Launce's

Sir Joseph proceeded with his story. Natalie took up her knife again. Another signal coming!

"I only repeat what I heard, brother. The last time you told the story, you and your friend were sitting down to

"If it is of no more importance than that, Joseph, it would be surely better to leave it out altogether."

"Let us waive the point. Well, we were suddenly alarmed by a shout on deck, 'Man overboard!' We both

rushed up the cabin stairs, naturally under the impression that one of our crew had fallen into the sea: an

impression shared, I ought to add, by the man at the helm, who had given the alarm."

Sir Joseph paused again. He was approaching one of the great dramatic points in his story, and was naturally

anxious to present it as impressively as possible. He considered with himself, with his head a little on one

side. Miss Lavinia considered with herself, with her head a little on one side. Natalie laid down her knife

again, and again touched Launce under the table. This time there were five pieces of ham ranged

longitudinally on the plate, with one piece immediately under them at the center of the line. Interpreted by the

Code, this signal indicated two ominous words, "Bad news." Launce looked significantly at the owner of the

yacht (meaning of the look, "Is he at the bottom of it?"). Natalie frowned in reply (meaning of the frown,

"Yes, he is"). Launce looked down again into the plate. Natalie instantly pushed all the pieces of ham

"Well?" said Richard Turlington, turning sharply on Sir Joseph. "Get on with your story. What next?"

Thus far he had not troubled himself to show even a decent pretense of interest in his old friend's

perpetuallyinterrupted narrative. It was only when Sir Joseph had reached his last sentenceintimating that

the man overboard might turn out in course of time not to be a man of the pilotboat's crewit was only

then that Turlington sat up in his chair, and showed signs of suddenly feeling a strong interest in the progress

"As soon as we got on deck, we saw the man in the water, astern. Our vessel was hove up in the wind, and the

boat was lowered. The master and one of the men took the oars. All told, our crew were seven in number.

Two away in the boat, a third at the helm, and, to my amazement, when I looked round, the other four behind

me making our number complete. At the same moment Mahogany Dobbs, who was looking through a

telescope, called out, 'Who the devil can he be? The man is floating on a hencoop, and we have got nothing

The one person present who happened to notice Richard Turlington's face when those words were

pronounced was Launcelot Linzie. Heand he alonesaw the Levant trader's swarthy complexion fade

slowly to a livid ashen gray; his eyes the while fixing themselves on Sir Joseph Graybrooke with a furtive

glare in them like the glare in the eyes of a wild beast. Apparently conscious that Launce was looking at

himthough he never turned his head Launce's wayhe laid his elbow on the table, lifted his arm, and so

rested his face on his hand, while the story went on, as to screen it effectually from the young surgeon's view.

"The man was brought on board," proceeded Sir Joseph, "sure enough, with a hencoopon which he had

been found floating. The poor wretch was blue with terror and exposure in the water; he fainted when we

lifted him on deck. When he came to himself he told us a horrible story. He was a sick and destitute foreign

seaman, and he had hidden himself in the hold of an English vessel (bound to a port in his native country)

which had sailed from Liverpool that morning. He had been discovered, and brought before the captain. The

Before the next word of the sentence could pass Sir Joseph's lips, Turlington startled the little party in the

As he spoke, he wheeled round to the cabin door so as to turn his back on his guests, and hailed the deck.

Not the slightest movement in the vessel had been perceptible in the cabin; not a sound had been audible

indicating the rising of the breeze. The owner of the yachtaccustomed to the sea, capable, if necessary, of

sailing his own vesselhad surely committed a strange mistake! He turned again to his friends, and made his

apologies with an excess of polite regret far from characteristic of him at other times and under other

"Go on," he said to Sir Joseph, when he had got to the end of his excuses; "I never heard such an interesting

The request was not an easy one to comply with. Sir Joseph's ideas had been thrown into confusion. Miss

Lavinia's contradictions (held in reserve) had been scattered beyond recall. Both brother and sister were,

moreover, additionally hindered in recovering the control of their own resources by the look and manner of

their host. He alarmed, instead of encouraging the two harmless old people, by fronting them almost fiercely,

with his elbows squared on the table, and his face expressive of a dogged resolution to sit there and listen, if

need be, for the rest of his life. Launce was the person who set Sir Joseph going again. After first looking

attentively at Richard, he took his uncle straight back to the story by means of a question, thus:

"That is just what he did, Launce. The poor wretch was too ill to work his passage. The captain declared he

would have no idle foreign vagabond in his ship to eat up the provisions of Englishmen who worked. With

his own hands he cast the hencoop into the water, and (assisted by one of his sailors) he threw the man after

"A lie!" cried Turlington, addressing himself, not to Sir Joseph, but to Launce.

"I know nothing about the circumstances. I say, from my own experience, that foreign sailors are even greater

blackguards than English sailors. The man had met with an accident, no doubt. The rest of his story was a lie,

"I went to the owners of the vessel," pursued Sir Joseph." I got from them the names of the officers and the

crew, and I waited, leaving the case in the hands of the Liverpool police. The ship was wrecked at the mouth

of the Amazon, but the crew and the cargo were saved. The men belonging to Liverpool came back. They

were a bad set, I grant you. But they were examined separately about the treatment of the foreign sailor, and

they all told the same story. They could give no account of their captain, nor of the sailor who had been his

accomplice in the crime, except that they had not embarked in the ship which brought the rest of the crew to

England. Whatever may have become of the captain since, he certainly never returned to Liverpool."

The question was asked by Turlington. Even Sir Joseph, the least observant of men, noticed that it was put

"Don't be angry, Richard." said the old gentleman. "What is there to be angry about?"

"I don't know what you mean. I'm not angryI'm only curious. Did you find out who he was?"

"I did. His name was Goward. He was well known at Liverpool as a very clever and a very dangerous man.

Quite young at the time I am speaking of, and a firstrate sailor; famous for taking command of unseaworthy

ships and vagabond crews. Report described him to me as having made considerable sums of money in that

way, for a man in his position; serving firms, you know, with a bad name, and running all sorts of desperate

risks. A sad ruffian, Richard! More than once in trouble, on both sides of the Atlantic, for acts of violence and

"Or possibly," said Launce, "alive, under another name, and thriving in a new way of life, with more

"Are you acquainted with the circumstances?" asked Turlington, retorting Launce's question on him, with a

"What became of the poor foreign sailor, papa?" said Natalie, purposely interrupting Launce before he could

"We made a subscription, and spoke to his consul, my dear. He went back to his country, poor fellow,

"And there is an end of Sir Joseph's story," said Turlington, rising noisily from his chair. "It's a pity we

haven't got a literary man on boardhe would make a novel of it." He looked up at the skylight as he got on

It was true. At last the breeze had come. The sails flapped, the main boom swung over with a thump, and the

"Come on deck, Natalie, and get some fresh air," said Miss Lavinia, leading the way to the cabin door.

Natalie held up the skirt of her nankeen dress, and exhibited the purple trimming torn away over an extent of

"You have done nothing but tear your dresses, my dear, since you have been in Mr. Turlington's yacht. Most

Natalie's dark color deepened a shade. She laughed, a little uneasily. "I am so awkward on board ship," she

"Now is the time," he said to Sir Joseph, "for the best cigar of the daythe cigar after breakfast. Come on

"Give me half an hour first over my books," Launce replied." I mustn't let my medical knowledge get musty

Sir Joseph patted his nephew approvingly on the shoulder. Launce turned away on his side, and shut himself

Persons possessed of sluggish livers and tender hearts find two serious drawbacks to the enjoyment of a

cruise at sea. It is exceedingly difficult to get enough walking exercise; and it is next to impossible (where

secrecy is an object) to make love without being found out. Reverting for the moment to the latter difficulty

only, life within the narrow and populous limits of a vessel may be defined as essentially life in public. From

morning to night you are in your neighbor's way, or your neighbor is in your way. As a necessary result of

these conditions, the rarest of existing men may be defined as the man who is capable of stealing a kiss at sea

without discovery. An inbred capacity for stratagem of the finest sort; inexhaustible inventive resources;

patience which can flourish under superhuman trials; presence of mind which can keep its balance

victoriously under every possible stress of emergencythese are some of the qualifications which must

accompany Love on a cruise, when Love embarks in the character of a contraband commodity not duly

Having established a Code of Signals which enabled them to communicate privately, while the eyes and ears

of others were wide open on every side of them, Natalie and Launce were next confronted by the more

serious difficulty of finding a means of meeting together at stolen interviews on board the yacht. Possessing

none of those precious moral qualifications already enumerated as the qualifications of an accomplished lover

at sea, Launce had proved unequal to grapple with the obstacles in his way. Left to her own inventive

resources, Natalie had first suggested the young surgeon's medical studies as Launce's unanswerable excuse

for shutting himself up at intervals in the lower regions, and had then hit on the happy idea of tearing her

trimmings, and condemning herself to repair her own carelessness, as the allsufficient reason for similar acts

of selfseclusion on her side. In this way the lovers contrived, while the innocent ruling authorities were on

deck, to meet privately below them, on the neutral ground of the main cabin; and there, by previous

Natalie's door was, as usual on these occasions, the first that opened; for this sound reason, that Natalie's

She looked up at the skylight. There were the legs of the two gentlemen and the skirts of her aunt visible

(and stationary) on the lee side of the deck. She advanced a few steps and listened. There was a pause in the

murmur of the voices above. She looked up again. One pair of legs (not her father's) had disappeared.

Without an instant's hesitation, Natalie darted back to her own door, just in time to escape Richard Turlington

descending the cabin stairs. All he did was to go to one of the drawers under the maincabin bookcase and

to take out a map, ascending again immediately to the deck. Natalie's guilty conscience rushed instantly,

nevertheless, to the conclusion that Richard suspected her. When she showed herself for the second time,

Launce appeared at his door. He was peremptorily checked before he could cross the threshold.

Some other place? How easy to find it on land! How apparently impossible at sea! There was the forecastle

(full of men) at one end of the vessel. There was the sail room (full of sails) at the other. There was the ladies'

cabin (used as the ladies' dressingroom; inaccessible, in that capacity, to every male human being on board).

Was there any disposable inclosed space to be found amidships? On one side there were the sleeping berths

of the sailingmaster and his mate (impossible to borrow them). On the other side was the steward's

storeroom. Launce considered for a moment. The steward's storeroom was just the thing!

"Where are you going?" asked Natalie, as her lover made straight for a closed door at the lower extremity of

Launce opened the storeroom door, and discovered, not the steward, but his wife, who occupied the

situation of stewardess on board the vessel. The accident was, in this case, a lucky one. Having stolen several

kisses at sea, and having b een discovered (in every case) either by the steward or his wife, Launce felt no

difficulty in prefacing his request to be allowed the use of the room by the plainest allusion to his relations

with Natalie. He could count on the silence of the sympathizing authorities in this region of the vessel, having

wisely secured them as accomplices by the usual persuasion of the pecuniary sort. Of the two, however, the

stewardess, as a woman, was the more likely to lend a ready ear to Launce's entreaties in his present

emergency. After a faint show of resistance, she consented, not only to leave the room, but to keep her

husband out of it, on the understanding that it was not to be occupied for more than ten minutes. Launce

made the signal to Natalie at one door, while the stewardess went out by the other. In a moment more the

lovers were united in a private room. Is it necessary to say in what language the proceedings were opened?

Surely not! There is an inarticulate language of the lips in use on these occasions in which we are all

proficient, though we sometimes forget it in later life. Natalie seated herself on a locker. The tea, sugar, and

spices were at her back, a side of bacon swung over her head, and a net full of lemons dangled before her

"Never mind. We shall be safe enough if they do. The steward has only to show himself on deck, and they

"Do be quiet, Launce! I have got dreadful news to tell you. And, besides, my aunt will expect to see me with

She had brought her needle and thread with her. Whipping up the skirt of her dress on her knee, she bent

forward over it, and set herself industriously to the repair of the torn trimming. In this position her lithe figure

showed charmingly its firm yet easy line. The needle, in her dexterous brown fingers, flew through its work.

The locker was a broad one; Launce was able to seat himself partially behind her. In this position who could

have resisted the temptation to lift up her great knot of broadlyplaited black hair, and to let the warm, dusky

nape of her neck disclose itself to view? Who, looking at it, could fail to revile the senseless modern fashion

of dressing the hair, which hides the double beauty of form and color that nestles at the back of a woman's

neck? From time to time, as the interview proceeded, Launce's lips emphasized the more important words

occurring in his share of the conversation on the soft, fragrant skin which the lifted hair let him see at

Natalie started. A curse addressed to the back of your neck, instantly followed by a blessing in the shape of a

"Don't do that again, Launce! It was while you were on deck smoking, and when I was supposed to be fast

asleep. I opened the ventilator in my cabin door, dear, and I heard every word they said. He waited till my

aunt was out of the way, and he had got papa all to himself, and then he began it in that horrible, downright

"No more swearing, Launce! Those were the words. Papa didn't understand them. He only said (poor

dear!)'Bless my soul, Richard, what do you want?' Richard soon explained himself. 'Who could he be

waiting forbut Me?' Papa said something about my being so young. Richard stopped his mouth directly.

'Girls were like fruit; some ripened soon, and some ripened late. Some were women at twenty, and some were

women at sixteen. It was impossible to look at me, and not see that I was like a new being after my two

months at sea,' and so on and so on. Papa behaved like an angel. He still tried to put it off. 'Plenty of time,

Richard, plenty of time.' 'Plenty of time for her' (was the wretch's answer to that); 'but not for me. Think of all

I have to offer her' (as if I cared for his money!); 'think how long I have looked upon her as growing up to be

my wife' (growing up for himmonstrous!), 'and don't keep me in a state of uncertainty, which it gets harder

and harder for a man in my position to endure!' He was really quite eloquent. His voice trembled. There is no

"I'll tell you directly. How did it all end last night? Did your father make any sort of promise?"

"You know Richard's way; Richard left him no other choice. Papa had to promise before he was allowed to

"Yes. Papa is to speak to me as soon as we are at home again, and my married life is to begin with the New

"Are you in earnest, Natalie? Do you really mean to say it has gone as far as that?"

"They have settled everything. The splendid establishment we are to set up, the great income we are to have. I

heard papa tell Richard that half his fortune should go to me on my weddingday. It was sickening to hear

how much they made of Money, and how little they thought of Love. What am I to do, Launce?"

"That's easily answered, my darling. In the first place, you are to make up your mind not to marry Richard

"Do talk reasonably. You know I have done all I could. I have told papa that I can think of Richard as a

friend, but not as a husband. He only laughs at me, and says, 'Wait a little, and you will alter your opinion,

my dear.' You see Richard is everything to him; Richard has always managed his affairs, and has saved him

from losing by bad speculations; Richard has known me from the time when I was a child; Richard has a

splendid business, and quantities of money. Papa can't even imagine that I can resist Richard. I have tried my

aunt; I have told her he is too old for me. All she says is, 'Look at your father; he was much older than your

mother, and what a happy marriage theirs was.' Even if I said in so many words, 'I won't marry Richard,' what

good would it do to us? Papa is the best and dearest old man in the world; but oh, he is so fond of money! He

believes in nothing else. He would be furiousyes, kind as he is, he would be furiousif I even hinted that

I was fond of you. Any man who proposed to marry meif he couldn't match the fortune that I should bring

him by a fortune of his ownwould be a lunatic in papa's eyes. He wouldn't think it necessary to answer

him; he would ring the bell, and have him shown out of the house. I am exaggerating nothing, Launce; you

know I am speaking the truth. There is no hope in the futurethat I can seefor either of us.

"If things go on as they are going on now, shall I tell you how it will end? It will end in your being

"So you say now; but you don't know what may happen between this and Christmasday. Natalie, there is

"My darling, every word you have said proves there is no other way. Think of it, Natalie, think of it."

There was a pause. Natalie dropped her needle and thread, and hid her face in her hands. "If my poor mother

was only alive," she said; "if I only had an elder sister to advise me, and to take my part."

She was evidently hesitating. Launce took a man's advantage of her indecision. He pressed her without

"Part us? We are cousins: we have known each other since we were both children. Even if he proposed

"Mark my words, he will propose it. As for your father, Richard has only to lift his finger and your father

obeys him. My love, the happiness of both our lives is at stake. "He wound his arm round her, and gently

drew her head back on his bosom " Other girls have done it, darling," he pleaded, "why shouldn't you?"

The effort to answer him was too much for her. She gave it up. A low sigh fluttered through her lips. She

nestled closer to him, and faintly closed her eyes. The next instant she started up, trembling from head to foot,

and looked at the skylight. Richard Turlington's voice was suddenly audible on deck exactly above them.

Natalie's first impulse was to fly to the door. Hearing Launce's name on Richard's lips, she checked herself.

Something in Richard's tone roused in her the curiosity which suspends fear. She waited, with her hand in

"If you remember," the brassy voice went on, "I doubted the wisdom of taking him with us on this cruise.

You didn't agree with me, and, at your express request, I gave way. I did wrong. Launcelot Linzie is a very

"You are not an observant man, Graybrooke. I am. I see signs of his presuming with all of us, and especially

with Natalie. I don't like the manner in which he speaks to her and looks at her. He is unduly familiar; he is

insolently confidential. There must be a stop put to it. In my position, my feelings ought to be regarded. I

"My dear Richard, they are cousins, they have been playmates from childhood. How can you think of

attaching the slightest importance to anything that is said or done by poor Launce?"

There was a goodhumored contempt in Sir Joseph's reference to "poor Launce" which jarred on his

daughter. He might almost have been alluding to some harmless domestic animal. Natalie's color deepened.

"I must once more requestseriously requestthat you will check this growing intimacy. I don't object to

your asking him to the house when you ask other friends. I only wish you (and expect you) to stop his

'dropping in,' as it is called, any hour of the day or evening when he may have nothing to do. Is that

Natalie hung her head in silence. There was a pause in the conversation on deck. The two gentlemen walked

"Your father leaves us no alternative," he said. "The door will be closed against me as soon as we get on

shore. If I lose you, Natalie, I don't care what becomes of me. My profession may go to the devil. I have

"Hundreds and hundreds of people in our situation have married privatelyand have been forgiven

afterward," he went on. "I won't ask you to do anything in a hurry. I will be guided entirely by your wishes.

All I want to quiet my mind is to know that you are mine. Do, do, do make me feel sure that Richard

"Don't press me, Launce." She dropped on the locker. "See!" she said. "It makes me tremble only to think of

"Poor papa! I wonder whether he would be hard on me for the first time in his life?" She stopped; her

moistening eyes looked up imploringly in Launce's face. "Don't press me!" she repeated faintly. "You know

it's wrong. We should have to confess it and then what would happen?" She paused again. Her eyes

wandered nervously to the deck. Her voice dropped to its lowest tones. "Think of Richard!" she said, and

shuddered at the terrors which that name conjured up. Before it was possible to say a quieting word to her,

she was again on her feet. Richard's name had suddenly recalled to her memory Launce's mysterious allusion,

at the outset of the interview, to the owner of the yacht. "What was that you said about Richard just now?"

she asked. "You saw something (or heard something) strange while papa was telling his story. What was it?"

"I noticed Richard's face, Natalie, when your father told us that the man overboard was not one of the

"He was presentI am certain of itwhen the sailor was thrown into the sea. For all I know, he may have

"Oh, Launce! Launce! that is too bad. You may not like Richard you may treat Richard as your enemy.

But to say such a horrible thing of him as that It's not generous. It's not like you."

"If you had seen him, you would have said it too. I mean to make inquiriesin your father's interests as well

as in ours. My brother knows one of the Commissioners of Police, and my brother can get it done for me.

The footsteps on deck were audible coming back. Natalie sprang to the door leading into the cabin. Launce

stopped her, as she laid her hand on the lock. The footsteps went straight on toward the stern of the vessel.

"Don't drive me to despair!" he said. "This is my last opportunity. I don't ask you to say at once that you will

marry me, I only ask you to think of it. My darling! my angel! will you think of it?"

As he put the question, they might have heard (if they had not been too completely engrossed in each other to

listen) the footsteps returningone pair of footsteps only this time. Natalie's prolonged absence had begun to

surprise her aunt, and had roused a certain vague distrust in Richard's mind. He walked back again along the

deck by himself. He looked absently in the main cabin as he passed it. The storeroom skylight came next. In

Launce only answered, "Say yes," and held her as if he would never let her go again.

At the same moment Miss Lavinia's voice rose shrill from the deck calling for Natalie. There was but one

way of getting free from him. She said, "I'll think of it." Upon that, he kissed her and let her go.

The door had barely closed on her when the lowering face of Richard Turlington appeared on a level with the

Launce took up a box of matches on the dresser. "I'm getting a light," he answered readily.

"I allow nobody below, forward of the main cabin, without my leave. The steward has permitted a breach of

Launce opened his lips to reply. An outbreak between the two men appeared to be inevitable, when the

sailingmaster of the yacht joined his employer on deck, and directed Turlington's attention to a question

The yacht was then in the Bristol Channel, at the entrance to Bideford Bay. The breeze, fast freshening, was

also fast changing the direction from which it blew. The favorable tide had barely three hours more to run.

"The wind's shifting, sir," said the sailingmaster. "I'm afraid we shan't get round the point this tide, unless

"There are letters waiting for me at Bideford," he said. "We have lost two days in the calm. I must send

The vessel held on her course. Off the port of Bideford, the boat was sent ashore to the postoffice, the yacht

standing off and on, waiting the appearance of the letters. In the shortest time in which it was possible to

The men were hauling the boat up to the davits, the yacht was already heading off from the land, when

He had thrust all his letters but one into the pocket of his sailing jacket, without reading them. The one letter

which he had opened he held in his closed hand. Rage was in his staring eyes, consternation was on his pale

"Lower the boat!" he shouted; "I must get to London tonight." He stopped Sir Joseph, approaching him with

opened mouth. "There's no time for questions and answers. I must get back." He swung himself over the side

of the yacht, and addressed the sailingmaster from the boat. "Save the tide if you can; if you can't, put them

ashore tomorrow at Minehead or Watchetwherever they like." He beckoned to Sir Joseph to lean over the

bulwark, and hear something he had to say in private. "Remember what I told you about Launcelot Linzie!"

he whispered fiercely. His parting look was for Natalie. He spoke to her with a strong constraint on himself,

as gently as he could. "Don't be alarmed; I shall see you in London." He seated himself in the boat and took

the tiller. The last words they heard him say were words urging the men at the oars to lose no time. He was

invariably brutal with the men. "Pull, you lazy beggars!" he exclaimed, with an oath. "Pull for your lives!"

The new scene plunges us head foremost into the affairs of the Levant tradinghouse of Pizzituti, Turlington

& Branca. What on earth do we know about the Levant Trade? Courage! If we have ever known what it is to

want money we are perfectly familiar with the subject at starting. The Levant Trade does occasionally get

The letter which had been handed to him on board the yacht was from his third partner, Mr. Branca, and was

"A crisis in the trade. All right, so farexcept our business with the small foreign firms. Bills to meet from

those quarters, (say) forty thousand poundsand, I fear, no remittances to cover them. Particulars stated in

another letter addressed to you at Postoffice, Ilfracombe. I am quite broken down with anxiety, and confined

The same evening Turlington was at his office in Austin Friars, investigating the state of affairs, with his

Stated briefly, the business of the firm was of the widely miscellaneous sort. They plied a brisk trade in a vast

variety of commodities. Nothing came amiss to them, from Manchester cotton manufactures to Smyrna figs.

They had branch houses at Alexandria and Odessa, and correspondents here, there, and everywhere, along the

shores of the Mediterranean, and in the ports of the East. These correspondents were the persons alluded to in

Mr. Branca's letter as "small foreign firms;" and they had produced the serious financial crisis in the affairs of

Every one of these minor firms claimed and received the privilege of drawing bills on Pizzituti, Turlington &

Branca for amounts varying from four to six thousand poundson no better security than a verbal

understanding that the money to pay the bills should be forwarded before they fell due. Competition, it is

needless to say, was at the bottom of this insanely reckless system of trading. The native firms laid it down as

a rule that they would decline to transact business with any house in the trade which refused to grant them

their privilege. In the ease of Turlington's house, the foreign merchants had drawn their bills on him for sums

large in the aggregate, if not large in themselves; had long since turned those bills into cash in their own

markets, for their own necessities; and had now left the money which their paper represented to be paid by

their London correspondents as it fell due. In some instances, they had sent nothing but promises and

excuses. In others, they had forwarded drafts on firms which had failed already, or which were about to fail,

in the crisis. After first exhausting his resources in ready money, Mr. Branca had provided for the more

pressing necessities by pledging the credit of the house, so far as he could pledge it without exciting

suspicion of the truth. This done, there were actually left, between that time and Christmas, liabilities to be

met to the extent of forty thousand pounds, without a farthing in hand to pay that formidable debt.

After working through the night, this was the conclusion at which Richard Turlington arrived, when the rising

The whole force of the blow had fallen on him. The share of his partners in the business was of the most

trifling nature. The capital was his, the risk was his. Personally and privately, he had to find the money, or to

With his position in the City, he had only to go to the famous moneylending and discounting house of

Bulpit Brothersreported to "turn over" millions in their business every yearand to supply himself at once

with the necessary funds. Forty thousand pounds was a trifling transaction to Bulpit Brothers.

Having got the money, how, in the present state of his trade, was the loan to be paid back?

"Curious!" he said to himself, recalling his conversation with Sir Joseph on board the yacht. "Graybrooke told

me he would give his daughter half his fortune on her marriage. Half Graybrooke's fortune happens to be just

forty thousand pounds!" He took a turn in the room. No! It was impossible to apply to Sir Joseph. Once shake

Sir Joseph's conviction of his commercial solidity, and the marriage would be certainly deferredif not

absolutely broken off. Sir Joseph's fortune could be made available, in the present emergency, in but one

wayhe might use it to repay his debt. He had only to make the date at which the loan expired coincide with

the date of his marriage, and there was his fatherinlaw's money at his disposal, or at his wife's

disposalwhich meant the same thing. "It's well I pressed Graybrooke about the marriage when I did!" he

thought. "I can borrow the money at a short date. In three months from this Natalie will be my wife."

He drove to his club to get breakfast, with his mind cleared, for the time being, of all its anxieties but one.

Knowing where he could procure the loan, he was by no means equally sure of being able to find the security

on which he could borrow the money. Living up to his income; having no expectations from any living

creature; possessing in landed property only some thirty or forty acres in Somersetshire, with a quaint little

dwelling, half farm house, halfcottage, attached he was incapable of providing the needful security from

his own personal resources. To appeal to wealthy friends in the City would be to let those friends into the

secret of his embarrassments, and to put his credit in peril. He finished his breakfast, and went back to Austin

Friarsfailing entirely, so far, to see how he was to remove the last obstacle now left in his way.

The doors were open to the public; business had begun. He had not been ten minutes in his room before the

shippingclerk knocked at the door and interrupted him, still absorbed in his own anxious thoughts.

"Duplicate Bills of Lading, sir," answered the clerk, placing the documents on his ma ster's table.

Found! There was the security on his writingdesk, staring him in the face! He dismissed the clerk and

They contained an account of goods shipped to the London house on board vessels sailing from Smyrna and

Odessa, and they were signed by the masters of the ships, who thereby acknowledged the receipt of the

goods, and undertook to deliver them safely to the persons owning them, as directed. First copies of these

papers had already been placed in the possession of the London house. The duplicates had now followed, in

case of accident. Richard Turlington instantly determined to make the duplicates serve as his security,

keeping the first copies privately under lock and key, to be used in obtaining possession of the goods at the

customary time. The fraud was a fraud in appearance only. The security was a pure formality. His marriage

would supply him with the funds needed for repaying the money, and the profits of his business would

provide, in course of time, for restoring the dowry of his wife. It was simply a question of preserving his

credit by means which were legitimately at his disposal. Within the lax limits of mercantile morality, Richard

Turlington had a conscience. He put on his hat and took his false security to the moneylenders, without

Bulpit Brothers, long desirous of having such a name as his on their books, received him with open arms. The

security (covering the amount borrowed) was accepted as a matter of course. The money was lent, for three

months, with a stroke of the pen. Turlington stepped out again into the street, and confronted the City of

London in the character of the noblest work of mercantile creationa solvent man.*

The Fallen Angel, walking invisibly behind, in Richard's shadow, flapped his crippled wings in triumph.

From that moment the Fallen Angel had got him. * It may not be amiss to remind the

incredulous reader that a famous firm in the City accepted precisely the same security as that here accepted

by Bulpit Brothers, with the same sublime indifference to troubling themselves by making any inquiry about

The next day Turlington drove to the suburbs, on the chance of finding the Graybrookes at home again. Sir

Joseph disliked London, and could not prevail on himself to live any nearer to the metropolis than Muswell

Hill. When Natalie wanted a change, and languished for balls, theaters, flowershows, and the like, she had a

room especially reserved for her in the house of Sir Joseph's married sister, Mrs. Sancroft, living in that

central deep of the fashionable whirlpool known among mortals as Berkeley Square.

On his way through the streets, Turlington encountered a plain proof that the Graybrookes must have

returned. He was passed by Launce, driving, in company with a gentleman, in a cab. The gentleman was

Launce's brother, and the two were on their way to the Commissioners of Police to make the necessary

Arrived at the gate of the villa, the information received only partially fulfilled the visitor's expectations. The

family had returned on the previous evening. Sir Joseph and his sister were at home, but Natalie was away

again already. She had driven into town to lunch with her aunt. Turlington went into the house.

"Have you lost any money?" Those were the first words uttered by Sir Joseph when he and Richard met

"Not a farthing. I might have lost seriously, if I had not got back in time to set things straight. Stupidity on the

Sir Joseph lifted his eyes, with heartfelt devotion, to the ceiling. "Thank God, Richard!" he said, in tones of

the deepest feeling. He rang the bell. "Tell Miss Graybrooke Mr. Turlington is here." He turned again to

Richard. "Lavinia is like me Lavinia has been so anxious about you. We have both of us passed a sleepless

night." Miss Lavinia came in. Sir Joseph hurried to meet her, and took her affectionately by both hands. "My

dear! the best of all good news, Richard has not lost a farthing." Miss Lavinia lifted her eyes to the ceiling

with heartfelt devotion, and said, "Thank God, Richard!"like the echo of her brother's voice; a little late,

perhaps, for its reputation as an echo, but accurate to half a note in its perfect repetition of sound.

Turlington asked the question which it had been his one object to put in paying his visit to Muswell Hill.

"This morning," replied Sir Joseph. "An opportunity offered itself after breakfast. I took advantage of it,

He settled himself in his chair for one of his interminable stories; he began his opening sentenceand

stopped, struck dumb at the first word. There was an unexpected obstacle in the way his sister was not

attending to him; his sister had silenced him at starting. The story touching, this time, on the question of

marriage, Miss Lavinia had her woman's interest in seeing full justice done to the subject. She seized on her

"Joseph should have told you," she began, addressing herself to Turlington, "that our dear girl was unusually

depressed in spirits this morning. Quite in the right frame of mind for a little serious talk about her future life.

"And marmalade," said Sir Joseph, striking in at the first opportunity. The story, on this occasion, being Miss

Lavinia's story, the polite contradictions necessary to its successful progress were naturally transferred from

"Sister! the late great and good Doctor Johnson said accuracy ought always to be studied even in the most

"You will have your way, Joseph"(this was the formula answering to Sir Joseph's "Let us waive the

point"which Miss Lavinia used, as a means of conciliating her brother, and getting a fresh start for her

story). "Well, we took dear Natalie out between us, after breakfast, for a little walk in the grounds. My

brother opened the subject with infinite delicacy and tact. 'Circumstances,' he said, 'into which it was not then

necessary to enter, made it very desirable, young as she was, to begin to think of her establishment in life.'

And then he referred, Richard (so nicely), to your faithful and devoted attachment"

"Excuse me, Lavinia. I began with Richard's attachment, and then I got on to her establishment in life."

"Excuse me, Joseph. You managed it much more delicately than you suppose. You didn't drag Richard in by

"How did it end?" he asked. "Did you propose to her that we should be married in the first week of the New

The sister looked at the brother with an expression of affectionate surprise. The brother looked at the sister

"Do you really mean to deny, Joseph, that you told Natalie we had decided on the first week in the New

"You will have your way, Joseph! We were walking in the shrubbery at the time. I had our dear girl's arm in

mine, and I felt it tremble. She suddenly stopped. 'Oh,' she said, 'not so soon!' I said, 'My dear, consider

Richard!' She turned to her father. She said, 'Don't, pray don't press it so soon, papa! I respect Richard; I like

Richard as your true and faithful friend; but I don't love him as I ought to love him if I am to be his wife.'

Imagine her talking in that way! What could she possibly know about it? Of course we both laughed"

"Get on, for God's sake!" cried Turlington, striking his hand passionately on the table by which he was

sitting. "Don't madden me by contradicting each other! Did she give way or not?"

Miss Lavinia turned to her brother. "Contradicting each other, Joseph!" she exclaimed, lifting her hands in

"Contradicting each other!" repeated Sir Joseph, equally astonished on his side. "My dear Richard, what can

"I contradict my brother! We have never had a cross word between us from the time when we were children."

"I beg your pardonboth of you," he said. "I didn't know what I was saying. Make some allowance for me.

All my hopes in life are centered in Natalie; and you have just told me (in her own words, Miss Lavinia) that

she doesn't love. You don't mean any harm, I dare say; but you cut me to the heart."

This confession, and the look that accompanied it, touched the ready sympathies of the two old people in the

right place. The remainder of the story dropped between them by common consent. They vied with each other

in saying the comforting words which would allay their dear Richard's anxiety. How little he knew of young

girls. How could he be so foolish, poor fellow! as to attach any serious importance to what Natalie had said?

As if a young creature in her teens knew the state of her own heart! Protestations and entreaties were matters

of course, in such cases. Tears even might be confidently expected from a rightminded girl. It had all ended

exactly as Richard would have wished it to end. Sir Joseph had said, "My child! this is a matter of experience;

love will come when you are married." And Miss Lavinia had added, "Dear Natalie, if you remembered your

poor mother as I remember her, you would know that your father's experience is to be relied on." In that way

they had put it to her; and she had hung her head and had givenall that maiden modesty could be expected

to givea silent consent. "The weddingday was fixed for the first week in the New Year." ("No, Joseph;

not Januarythe New Year.") "And God bless you, Richard! and may your married life be a long and happy

So the average ignorance of human nature, and the average belief in conventional sentiment, complacently

contemplated the sacrifice of one more victim on the alldevouring altar of Marriage! So Sir Joseph and his

sister provided Launcelot Linzie with the one argument which he wanted to convince Natalie: "Choose

between making the misery of your life by marrying him, and making the happiness of your life by marrying

"When shall I see her?" asked Turlington, with Miss Lavinia (in tears which did her credit) in possession of

one of his hands, and Sir Joseph (in tears which did him credit) in possession of the other.

An hour later a telegram arrived from Natalie. She had consented to dine, as well as lunch, in Berkeley

Squaresleeping there that night, and returning the next morning. Her father instantly telegraphed back by

the messenger, insisting on Natalie's return to Muswell Hill that evening, in time to meet Richard Turlington

"Quite right. Joseph," said Miss Lavinia, looking over her brother's shoulder, while he wrote the telegram.

"She is showing a disposition to coquet with Richard," rejoined Sir Joseph, with the air of a man who knew

female human nature in its remotest corners. "My telegram, Lavinia, will have its effect."

Sir Joseph was quite right. His telegram had its effect. It not only brought his daughter back to dinnerit

produced another result which his prophetic faculty had altogether failed to foresee.

The message reached Berkeley Square at five o'clock in the afternoon. Let us follow the message.

Between four and five in the afternoonwhen the women of the Western regions are in their carriages, and

the men are at their clubsLondon presents few places more conveniently adapted for purposes of private

On the day when Richard Turlington paid his visit to Muswell Hill, two ladies (with a secret between them)

unlocked the gate of the railed garden in Berkeley Square. They shut the gate after entering the inclosure, but

carefully forbore to lock it as well, and carefully restricted their walk to the westward side of the garden. One

of them was Natalie Graybrooke. The other was Mrs. Sancroft's eldest daughter. A certain temporary interest

attached, in the estimation of society, to this young lady. She had sold well in the marriage market. In other

words, she had recently been raised to the position of Lord Winwood's second wife; his lordship conferring

on the bride not only the honors of the peerage, but the additional distinction of being stepmother to his three

single daughters, all older than herself. In person, Lady Winwood was little and fair. In character, she was

dashing and resolutea complete contrast to Natalie, and (on that very account) Natalie's bosom friend.

"My dear, one ambitious marriage in the family is quite enough! I have made up my mind that you shall

marry the man you love. Don't tell me your courage is failing youthe excuse is contemptible; I decline to

receive it. Natalie! the men have a phrase which exactly describes your character. You want backbone!"

The bonnet of the lady who expressed herself in these peremptory terms barely reached the height of Natalie's

shoulder. Natalie might have blown the little airy, lighthaired, unsubstantial creature over the railings of the

garden if she had taken a good long breath and stooped low enough. But who ever met with a tall woman

who had a will of her own? Natalie's languid brown eyes looked softly down in submissive attention from an

elevation of five feet seven. Lady Winwood's brisk blue eyes looked brightly up in despotic command from

"You are trifling with Mr. Linzie, my dear. Mr. Linzie is a nice fellow. I like him. I won't have that."

"Mr. Turlington has nothing to recommend him. He is not a wellbred old gentleman of exalted rank. He is

only an odious brute who happens to have made money. You shall not marry Mr. Turlington. And you shall

"I will let you answernothing more. Didn't you come crying to me this morning? Didn't you say, 'Louisa,

they have pronounced sentence on me! I am to be married in the first week of the New Year. Help me out of

it, for Heaven's sake!' You said all that, and more. And what did I do when I heard your story?"

"Kind doesn't half express it. I have committed crimes on your account. I have deceived my husband and my

mother. For your sake I got mamma to ask Mr. Linzie to lunch (as my friend!). For your sake I have banished

my unoffending husband, not an hour since, to his club. You wretched girl, who arranged a private

conference in the library? Who sent Mr. Linzie off to consult his friend in the Temple on the law of

clandestine marriage? Who suggested your telegraphing home, and stopping here for the night? Who made an

appointment to meet your young man privately in this detestable place in ten minutes' time? I did! I did! I

did! All in your interests. All to prevent you from doing what I have donemarrying to please your family

instead of to please yourself. (I don't complain, mind, of Lord Winwood, or of his daughters. He is charming;

his daughters I shall tame in course of time. You are different. And Mr. Turlington, as I observed before, is a

brute.) Very well. Now what do you owe me on your side? You owe it to me at least to know your own mind.

You don't know it. You coolly inform me that you daren't run the risk after all, and that you can't

face the consequences on second thoughts. I'll tell you what! You don't deserve that nice fellow, who

worships the very ground you tread on. You are a breadandbutter miss. I don't believe you are fond of

"Not fond of him!" Natalie stopped, and clasped her hands in despair of finding language strong enough for

the occasion. At the same moment the sound of a closing gate caught her ear. She looked round. Launce had

kept his appointment before his time. Launce was in the garden, rapidly approaching them.

"Now for the Law of Clandestine Marriage!" said Lady Winwood. "Mr. Linzie, we will take it sitting." She

led the way to one of the benches in the garden, and placed Launce between Natalie and herself. "Well, Chief

Conspirator, have you got the License? No? Does it cost too much? Can I lend you the money?"

"It costs perjury, Lady Winwood, in my case," said Launce. "Natalie is not of age. I can only get a License by

taking my oath that I marry her with her father's consent." He turned piteously to Natalie. "I couldn't very

well do that," he said, in the tone of a man who feels bound to make an apology, "could I?" Natalie

"In your place a woman wouldn't have hesitated," her ladyship remarked. "But men are so selfish. Well! I

"Yes, there is another way," said Launce. "But there is a horrid condition attached to it"

"I'll tell you directly, Lady Winwood. The marriage comes first. The condition follows. There is only one

"They needn't be proclaimed in your church, you goose," said Lady Winwood. "And, even if they were,

nobody would be the wiser. You may trust implicitly, my dear, in the elocution of an English clergyman!"

"That's just what my friend said," cried Launce. "'Take a lodging near a large parish church, in a remote part

of London' (this is my friend's advice)'go to the clerk, tell him you want to be married by banns, and say

you belong to that parish. As for the lady, in your place I should simplify it. I should say she belonged to the

parish too. Give an address, and have some one there to answer questions. How is the clerk to know? He isn't

likely to be overanxious about ithis fee is eighteen pence. The clerk makes his profit out of you, after

you are married. The same rule applies to the parson. He will have your names supplied to him on a strip of

paper, with dozens of other names; and he will read them out all together in one inarticulate jumble in church.

You will stand at the altar when your time comes, with Brown and Jones, Nokes and Styles, Jack and Gill.

All that you will have to do is, to take care that your young lady doesn't fall to Jack, and you to Gill, by

mistakeand there you are, married by banns.' My friend's opinion, stated in his own words."

Natalie sighed, and wrung her hands in her lap. "We shall never get through it," she said, despondingly.

"I see nothing very formidable as yet, my dear. But we have still to hear the end of it. You mentioned a

"I am coming to the condition, Lady Winwood. You naturally suppose, as I did, that I put Natalie into a cab,

Lady Winwood started. "Is that the condition you mentioned just now?" she asked.

"That is the condition. I may marry her without anything serious coming of it. But, if I run away with her

afterward, and if you are there, aiding and abetting me, we are guilty of Abduction, and we may stand, side

Natalie sprang to her feet in horror. Lady Winwood held up one finger warningly, signing to her to let Launce

"Natalie is not yet sixteen years old," Launce proceeded. "She must go straight back to her father's house

from the church, and I must wait to run away with her till her next birthday. When she's turned sixteen, she's

ripe for elopementnot an hour before. There is the law of Abduction! Despotism in a free countrythat's

"It's a very comforting law, I think," she said. "It doesn't force one to take the dreadful step of running away

from home all at once. It gives one time to consider, and plan, and make up one's mind. I can tell you this,

Launce, if I am to be persuaded into marrying you, the law of Abduction is the only thing that will induce me

"It's a pleasant prospect," he said, "to part at the church door, and to treat my own wife on the footing of a

"Is it any pleasanter for me," retorted Natalie, "to have Richard Turlington courting me, when I am all the

"Come! come!" interposed Lady Winwood. "It's time to be serious. Natalie's birthday, Mr. Linzie, is next

"At seven in the morning," said Launce; "I got that out of Sir Joseph. At one minute past seven, Greenwich

"And it isn't an eternity to wait from now till Christmasday. You get that, by way of completing the list of

your acquisitions, out of me. In the mean time, can you, or can you not, manage to meet the difficulties in the

"I have settled everything," Launce answered, confidently. "There is not a single difficulty left."

He turned to Natalie, listening to him in amazement, and explained himself. It had struck him that he might

appealwith his purse in his hand, of courseto the interest felt in his affairs by the late stewardess of the

yacht. That excellent woman had volunteered to do all that she could to help him. Her husband had obtained

situations for his wife and himself on board another yachtand they were both eager to assist in any

conspiracy in which their late merciless master was destined to play the part of victim. When on shore, they

lived in a populous London parish, far away from the fashionable district of Berkeley Square, and further yet

from the respectable suburb of Muswell Hill. A room in the house could be nominally engaged for Natalie, in

the assumed character of the stewardess's niecethe stewardess undertaking to answer any purely formal

questions which might be put by the church authorities, and to be present at the marriage ceremony. As for

Launce, he would actually, as well as nominally, live in the district close by; and the steward, if needful,

would answer for him. Natalie might call at her parochial residence occasionally, under the wing of Lady

Winwood; gaining leave of absence from Muswell Hill, on the plea of paying one of her customary visits at

her aunt's house. The conspiracy, in brief, was arranged in all its details. Nothing was now wanting but the

consent of the young lady; obtaining which, Launce would go to the parish church and give the necessary

notice of a marriage by banns on the next day. There was the plot. What did the ladies think of it?

"My father has always been so kind to me!" she said. "The one thing I can't get over, Launce, is distressing

papa. If he had been hard on meas some fathers areI shouldn't mind." She suddenly brightened, as if she

saw her position in a new light. "Why should you hurry me?" she asked. "I am going to dine at my aunt's

Launce instantly entered his protest against wasting a moment longer. Lady Winwood opened her lips to

support him. They were both silenced at the same moment by the appearance of one of Mrs. Sancroft's

Lady Winwood went forward to meet the man. A suspicion crossed her mind that he might be bringing bad

"I beg your pardon, my ladythe housekeeper said you were walking here with Miss Graybrooke. A

Lady Winwood took the telegram from the man's hand; dismissed him, and went back with it to Natalie.

Natalie opened it nervously. She read the messageand instantly changed. Her cheeks flushed deep; her

eyes flashed with indignation. "Even papa can be hard on me, it seems, when Richard asks him!" she

exclaimed. She handed the telegram to Launce. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "You love me," she said,

gentlyand stopped. "Marry me!" she added, with a sudden burst of resolution. "I'll risk it!"

"Sir Joseph Graybrooke, Muswell Hill. To Miss Natalie Graybrooke; Berkeley Square. Come back

Lady Winwood folded up the telegram with a malicious smile. "Well done, Sir Joseph!" thought her ladyship.

The time is morning; the date is early in the month of November. The place is a church, in a poor and

populous parish in the undiscovered regions of London, eastward of the Tower, and hard by the riverside.

A marriage procession of five approaches the altar The bridegroom is pale, and the bride is frightened. The

bride's friend (a resolutelooking little lady) encourages her in whispers. The two respectable persons,

apparently man and wife, who complete the procession, seem to be not quite clear as to the position which

they occupy at the ceremony. The beadle, as he marshals them before the altar, sees something under the

surface in this weddingparty. Marriages in the lower ranks of life are the only marriages celebrated here. Is

this a runaway match? The beadle anticipates something out of the common in the shape of a fee.

The clergyman (the junior curate) appears from the vestry in his robes. The clerk takes his place. The

clergyman's eye rests with a sudden interest and curiosity on the bride and bridegroom, and on the bride's

friend; notices the absence of elderly relatives; remarks, in the two ladies especially, evidences of refinement

and breeding entirely unparalleled in his professional experience of brides and brides' friends standing before

the altar of that church; questions, silently and quickly, the eye of the clerk, occupied also in observing the

strangers with interest "Jenkinson" (the clergyman's look asks), "is this all right?" "Sir" (the clerk's look

answers), "a marriage by banns; all the formalities have been observed." The clergyman opens his book. The

formalities have been observed; his duty lies plainly before him. Attention, Launcelot! Courage, Natalie! The

Launce casts a last furtive look round the church. Will Sir Joseph Graybrooke start up and stop it from one of

the empty pews? Is Richard Turlington lurking in the organloft, and only waiting till the words of the

service appeal to him to prohibit the marriage, or "else hereafter forever to hold his peace?" No. The

clergyman proceeds steadily, and nothing happens. Natalie's charming face grows paler and paler, Natalie's

heart throbs faster and faster, as the time comes nearer for reading the words which unite them for life. Lady

Winwood herself feels an unaccustomed fluttering in the region of the bosom. Her ladyship's thoughts revert,

not altogether pleasantly, to her own marriage: "Ah me! what was I thinking of when I was in this position?

Of the bride's beautiful dress, and of Lady Winwood's coming presentation at court!"

The service advances to the words in which they plight their troth. Launce has put the ring on her finger.

Launce has repeated the words after the clergyman. Launce has married her! Done! Come what may of it,

The service ends. Bridegroom, bride, and witnesses go into the vestry to sign the book. The signing, like the

service, is serious. No trifling with the truth is possible here. When it comes to Lady Winwood's turn, Lady

Winwood must write her name. She does it, but without her usual grace and decision. She drops her

handkerchief. The clerk picks it up for her, and notices that a coronet is embroidered in one corner.

The fees are paid. They leave the vestry. Other couples, when it is over, are talkative and happy. These two

are more silent and more embarrassed than ever. Stranger still, while other couples go off with relatives and

friends, all socially united in honor of the occasion, these two and their friends part at the church door. The

respectable man and his wife go their way on foot. The little lady with the coronet on her handkerchief puts

the bride into a cab, gets in herself, and directs the driver to close the door, while the bridegroom is standing

on the church steps! The bridegroom's face is clouded, as well it may be. He puts his head in at the window of

the cab; he possesses himself of the bride's hand; he speaks in a whisper; he is apparently not to be shaken

off. The little lady exerts her authority, separates the clasped hands, pushes the bridegroom away, and cries

peremptorily to the driver to go on. The cab starts; the deserted husband drifts desolately anyhow down the

street. The clerk, who has seen it all, goes back to the vestry and reports what has happened.

The rector (with his wife on his arm) has just dropped into the vestry on business in passing. He and the

curate are talking about the strange marriage. The rector, gravely bent on ascertaining that no blame rests

with the church, interrogates, and is satisfied. The rector's wife is not so easy to deal with. She has looked at

the signatures in the book. One of the names is familiar to her. She crossexamines the clerk as soon as her

husband is done with him. When she hears of the coronet on the handkerchief she points to the signature of

"Louisa Winwood," and says to the rector, "I know who it is! Lord Winwood's second wife. I went to school

with his lordship's daughters by his first marriage. We occasionally meet at the Sacred Concerts (on the

'Ladies' Committee'); I shall find an opportunity of speaking to them. One moment, Mr. Jenkinson, I will

write down the names before you put away the book. 'Launcelot Linzie,' 'Natalie Graybrooke.' Very pretty

She gives the curate a parting smile, and the clerk a parting nod, and sails out of the vestry. Natalie, silently

returning in Lady Winwood's company to Muswell Hill; and Launce, cursing the law of Abduction as he

roams the streetslittle think that the ground is already mined under their feet. Richard Turlington may hear

of it now, or may hear of it later. The discovery of the marriage depends entirely on a chance meeting

"Dearest NatalieAs the brute insists, the brute must have the invitation which I inclose. Never mind, my

child. You and Launce are coming to dinner, and I will see that you have your little private opportunities of

retirement afterward. All I expect of you in return is, not to look (when you come back) as if your husband

had been kissing you. You will certainly let out the secret of those stolen kisses, if you don't take care. At

mamma's dinner yesterday, your color (when you came out of the conservatory) was a sight to see. Even your

shoulders were red! They are charming shoulders, I know, and men take the strangest fancies sometimes. But,

my dear, suppose you wear a chemisette next time, if you haven't authority enough over him to prevent his

was written in that letter. An additional chapterof some importance in its bearing on the futurewas

By previous arrangement with Natalie, the Graybrookes (invited to dinner) arrived early. Leaving her

husband and her stepdaughters to entertain Sir Joseph and Miss Lavinia, Lady Winwood took Natalie into her

"My dear, you are looking positively haggard this evening. Has anything happened?"

"I am nearly worn out, Louisa. The life I am leading is so unendurable that, if Launce pressed me, I believe I

"You will do nothing of the sort, if you please. Wait till you are sixteen. I delight in novelty, but the novelty

of appearing at the Old Bailey is beyond my ambition. Is the brute coming tonight?"

"Of course. He insists on following me wherever I go. He lunched at Muswell Hill today. More complaints of

my incomprehensible coldness to him. Another scolding from papa. A furious letter from Launce. If I let

Richard kiss my hand again in his presence, Launce warns me he will knock him down. Oh, the meanness

and the guiltiness of the life I am leading now! I am in the falsest of all false positions, Louisa, and you

encouraged me to do it. I believe Richard Turlington suspects us. The last two times Launce and I tried to get

a minute together at my aunt's, he contrived to put himself in our way. There he was, my dear, with his

scowling face, looking as if he longed to kill Launce. Can you do anything for us tonight? Not on my

account. But Launce is so impatient. If he can't say two words to me alone this evening, he declares he will

Lady Winwood pointed through the curtained entrance of the boudoir to the door of the drawingroom.

Beyond the door was the staircase landing. And beyond the landing was a second drawingroom, the smaller

"There are only three or four people coming to dinner," her ladyship proceeded; "and a few more in the

evening. Being a small party, the small drawingroom will do for us. This drawingroom will not be lighted,

and there will be only my readinglamp here in the boudoir. I shall give the signal for leaving the

diningroom earlier than usual. Launce will join us before the evening party begins. The moment he appears,

"For your fan. Leave it there under the sofacushion before we go down to dinner. You will sit next to

Launce, and you will give him private instructions not to find the fan. You will get impatientyou will go to

find it yourselfand there you are. Take care of your shoulders, Mrs. Linzie! I have nothing more to say."

The guests asked to dinner began to arrive. Lady Winwood was recalled to her duties as mistress of the

It was a pleasant little dinnerwith one drawback. It began too late. The ladies only reached the small

drawingroom at ten minutes to ten. Launce was only able to join them as the clock struck.

"Nobody comes punctually to an evening party," said Launce. "Don't let us lose a moment. Send me for your

Natalie opened her lips to say the necessary words. Before she could speak, the servant announced"Mr.

He came in, with his stifflyupright shirt collar and his looselyfitting glossy black clothes. He made his

sullen and clumsy bow to Lady Winwood. And then he did, what he had done dozens of times alreadyhe

caught Natalie, with her eyes still bright and her face still animated (after talking to Launce)a striking

contrast to the cold and unimpulsive young lady whom he was accustomed to see while Natalie was talking to

Lord Winwood's daughters were persons of some celebrity in the world of amateur music. Noticing the look

that Turlington cast at Launce, Lady Winwood whispered to Miss Laviniawho instantly asked the young

ladies to sing. Launce, in obedience to a sign from Natalie, volunteered to find the musicbooks. It is

needless to add that he pitched on the wrong volume at starting. As he lifted it from the piano to take it back

to the stand, there dropped out from between the leaves a printed letter, looking like a circular. One of the

Her two sisters, standing by, looked at each other guiltily: "What will the Committee say to us? We entirely

"Yes! The twentythird of December. Put it down in your book, Amelia." Amelia, then and there, put it down

among the engagements for the latter end of the month. And Natalie's unacknowledged husband placidly

So did the merciless irony of circumstances make Launce the innocent means of exposing his own secret to

discovery. Thanks to his success in laying his hand on the wrong musicbook, there would now be a

meetingtwo good days before the elopement could take placebetween the lord's daughters and the

The guests of the evening began to appear by twos and threes. The gentlemen below stairs left the

The small drawingroom was pleasantly filled, and no more. Sir Joseph Graybrooke, taking Turlington's

hand, led him eagerly to their host. The talk in the diningroom had turned on finance. Lord Winwood was

not quite satisfied with some of his foreign investments; and Sir Joseph's "dear Richard" was the very man to

give him a little sound advice. The three laid their heads together in a corner. Launce (watching them) slyly

pressed Natalie's hand. A renowned "virtuoso" had arrived, and was thundering on the piano. The attention of

the guests generally was absorbed in the performance. A fairer chance of sending Launce for the fan could

not possibly have offered itself. While the financial discussion was still proceeding, the married lovers were

Lady Winwood (privately observant of their absence) kept her eye on the corner, watching Richard

He was talking earnestlywith his back toward the company. He neither moved nor looked round. It came

to Lord Winwood's turn to speak. He preserved the same position, listening. Sir Joseph took up the

conversation next. Then his attention wanderedhe knew beforehand what Sir Joseph would say. His eyes

turned anxiously toward the place in which he had left Natalie. Lord Winwood said a word. His head turned

back again toward the corner. Sir Joseph put an objection. He glanced once more over his shoulderthis

time at the place in which Launce had been standing. The next moment his host recalled his attention, and

made it impossible for him to continue his scrutiny of the room. At the same times two among the evening

guests, bound for another party, approached to take leave of the lady of the house. Lady Winwood was

obliged to rise, and attend to them. They had something to say to her before they left, and they said it at

terrible length, standing so as to intercept her view of the proceedings of the enemy. When she had got rid of

them at last, she lookedand behold Lord Winwood and Sir Joseph were the only occupants of the corner!

Delaying one moment, to set the "virtuoso" thundering once more, Lady Winwood slipped out of the room

and crossed the landing. At the entrance to the empty drawingroom she heard Turlington's voice, low and

threatening, in the boudoir. Jealousy has a Second Sight of its own. He had looked in the right place at

Her ladyship's courage was beyond dispute; but she turned pale as she approached the entrance to the

There stood Natalieat once angry and afraidbetween the man to whom she was ostensibly engaged, and

face expressed a martyrdom of suppressed fury. Launcein the act of offering Natalie her fansmiled, with

the cool superiority of a man who knew that he had won his advantage, and who triumphed in knowing it.

"I forbid you to take your fan from that man's hands," said Turlington, speaking to Natalie, and pointing to

"Isn't it rather too soon to begin 'forbidding'?" asked Lady Winwood, goodhumoredly.

"Exactly what I say!" exclaimed Launce. "It seems necessary to remind Mr. Turlington that he is not married

Those last words were spoken in a tone which made both the women tremble inwardly for results. Lady

Winwood took the fan from Launce with one hand, and took Natalie's arm with the other.

"There is your fan, my dear," she said, in her easy offhand manner. "Why do you allow these two barbarous

men to keep you here while the great Bootmann is playing the Nightmare Sonata in the next room? Launce!

Mr. Turlington! follow me, and learn to be musical directly! You have only to shut your eyes, and you will

fancy you hear four modern German composers playing, instead of one, and not the ghost of a melody among

all the four. "She led the way out with Natalie, and whispered, "Did he catch you?" Natalie whispered back,

"I heard him in time. He only caught us looking for the fan." The two men waited behind to have two words

Launce smiled satirically. "For once I agree with you," he answered. "It doesn't end here, as you say."

Lady Winwood stopped, and looked back at them from the drawingroom door. They were keeping her

Arrived in the next room, both Turlington and Launce resumed their places among the guests with the same

object in view. As a necessary result of the scene in the boudoir, each had his own special remonstrance to

address to Sir Joseph. Even here, Launce was beforehand with Turlington. He was the first to get possession

of Sir Joseph's private ear. His complaint took the form of a protest against Turlington's jealousy, and an

appeal for a reconsideration of the sentence which excluded him from Muswell Hill. Watching them from a

distance, Turlington's suspicious eye detected the appearance of something unduly confidential in the

colloquy between the two. Under cover of the company, he stole behind them and listened.

The great Bootmann had arrived at that part of the Nightmare Sonata in which musical sound, produced

principally with the left hand, is made to describe, beyond all possibility of mistake, the rising of the moon in

a country churchyard and a dance of Vampires round a maiden's grave. Sir Joseph, having no chance against

the Vampires in a whisper, was obliged to raise his voice to make himself audible in answering and

comforting Launce. "I sincerely sympathize with you," Turlington heard him say; "and Natalie feels about it

as I do. But Richard is an obstacle in our way. We must look to the consequences, my dear boy, supposing

Richard found us out." He nodded kindly to his nephew; and, declining to pursue the subject, moved away to

Turlington's jealous distrust, wrought to the highest pitch of irritability for weeks past, instantly associated

the words he had just heard with the words spoken by Launce in the boudoir, which had reminded him that he

was not married to Natalie yet. Was there treachery at work under the surface? and was the object to persuade

weak Sir Joseph to reconsider his daughter's contemplated marriage in a sense favorable to Launce?

Turlington's blind suspicion overleaped at a bound all the manifest improbabilities which forbade such a

conclusion as this. After an instant's consideration with himself, he decided on keeping his own counsel, and

on putting Sir Joseph's good faith then and there to a test which he could rely on as certain to take Natalie's

"My dear Richard, you are looking very strangely! Is the heat of the room too much for you?"

"Never mind the heat! I have seen enough tonight to justify me in insisting that your daughter and Launcelot

Linzie shall meet no more between this and the day of my marriage." Sir Joseph attempted to speak.

Turlington declined to give him the opportunity. "Yes! yes! your opinion of Linzie isn't mine, I know. I saw

you as thick as thieves together just now." Sir Joseph once more attempted to make himself heard. Wearied

by Turlington's perpetual complaints of his daughter and his nephew, he was sufficiently irritated by this time

to have reported what Launce had actually said to him if he had been allowed the chance. But Turlington

persisted in going on. "I cannot prevent Linzie from being received in this house, and at your sister's," he

said; "but I can keep him out of my house in the country, and to the country let us go. I propose a change in

He paused, and fixed his eyes attentively on Sir Joseph. Sir Joseph, looking a little surprised, replied briefly

"In that case, "resumed Turlington, "I invite you all to Somersetshire, and I propose that the marriage shall

"It is contrary to the usual course of proceeding in such cases, Richard," Sir Joseph began.

"Do you refuse?" reiterated Turlington. "I tell you plainly, I shall place a construction of my own upon your

Turlington drew back a step in silence. Sir Joseph had turned the tables on him, and had taken him by

"It will upset several plans, and be strongly objected to by the ladies," proceeded the old gentleman. "But if

nothing less will satisfy you, I say, Yes! I shall have occasion, when we meet tomorrow at Muswell Hill, to

appeal to your indulgence under circumstances which may greatly astonish you. The least I can do, in the

meantime, is to set an example of friendly sympathy and forbearance on my side. No more now, Richard.

It was impossible to make him explain himself further that night. Turlington was left to interpret Sir Joseph's

mysterious communication with such doubtful aid to success as his own unassisted ingenuity might afford.

The meeting of the next day at Muswell Hill had for its object as Turlington had already been

informedthe drawing of Natalie's marriagesettlement. Was the question of money at the bottom of Sir

Joseph's contemplated appeal to his indulgence? He thought of his commercial position. The depression in

the Levant trade still continued. Never had his business at any previous time required such constant attention,

and repaid that attention with so little profit. The Bills of Lading had been already used by the firm, in the

ordinary course of trade, to obtain possession of the goods. The duplicates in the hands of Bulpit Brothers

were literally waste paper. Repayment of the loan of forty thousand pounds (with interest) was due in less

than a month's time. There was his commercial position! Was it possible that moneyloving Sir Joseph had

any modification to propose in the matter of his daughter's dowry? The bare dread that it might be so struck

Meanwhile, Launce had left the evening party before himand Launce also found matter for serious

reflection presented to his mind before he slept that night. In other words, he found, on reaching his lodgings,

a letter from his brother marked "private." Had the inquiry into the secrets of Turlington's early lifenow

prolonged over some weeksled to positive results at last? Launce eagerly opened the letter. It contained a

"If you only want moral evidence to satisfy your own mind, your end is gained. There is, morally, no doubt

that Turlington and the seacaptain who cast the foreign sailor overboard to drown are on e and the same

man. Legally, the matter is beset by difficulties, Turlington having destroyed all provable connection between

his present self and his past life. There is only one chance for us. A sailor on board the ship (who was in his

master's secrets) is supposed to be still living (under his master's protection). All the black deeds of

Turlington's early life are known to this man. He can prove the facts, if we can find him, and make it worth

his while to speak. Under what alias he is hidden we do not know. His own name is Thomas Wildfang. If we

are to make the attempt to find him, not a moment is to be lost. The expenses may be serious. Let me know

whether we are to go on, or whether enough has been done to attain the end you have in view."

Enough had been donenot only to satisfy Launce, but to produce the right effect on Sir Joseph's mind if Sir

Joseph proved obdurate when the secret of the marriage was revealed. Launce wrote a line directing the

stoppage of the proceedings at the point which they had now reached. "Here is a reason for her not marrying

Turlington," he said to himself, as he placed the papers under lock and key. "And if she doesn't marry

The next day Sir Joseph Graybrooke, Sir Joseph's lawyer, Mr. Dicas (highly respectable and immensely rich),

and Richard Turlington were assembled in the library at Muswell Hill, to discuss the question of Natalie's

After the usual preliminary phrases had been exchanged, Sir Joseph showed some hesitation in openly

approaching the question which the little party of three had met to debate. He avoided his lawyer's eye; and

"Richard," he began at last, "when I spoke to you about your marriage, on board the yacht, I said I would give

my daughter" Either his courage or his breath failed him at that point. He was obliged to wait a moment

"I said I would give my daughter half my fortune on her marriage," he resumed. "Forgive me, Richard. I can't

Mr. Dicas, waiting for his instructions, laid down his pen and looked at Sir Joseph's soninlaw elect. What

He said nothing. Sitting opposite the window, he rose when Sir Joseph spoke, and placed himself at the other

"My eyes are weak this morning," he said, in an unnaturally low tone of voice. "The light hurts them."

He could find no more plausible excuse than that for concealing his face in shadow from the scrutiny of the

two men on either side of him. The continuous moral irritation of his unhappy courtshipa courtship which

had never advanced beyond the frigid familiarity of kissing Natalie's hand in the presence of others had

physically deteriorated him. Even his hardy nerves began to feel the long strain of suspicion that had been

laid unremittingly on them for weeks past. His power of selfcontrol he knew it himselfwas not to be

"Half my fortune!" he repeated. "It's parting with half my life; it's saying goodby forever to my dearest

friend! My money has been such a comfort to me, Richard; such a pleasant occupation for my mind. I know

no reading so interesting and so instructive as the reading of one's Banker's Book. To watch the outgoings on

one side," said Sir Joseph, with a gentle and pathetic solemnity, "and the incomings on the otherthe sad

lessening of the balance at one time, and the cheering and delightful growth of it at anotherwhat absorbing

reading! The best novel that ever was written isn't to be mentioned in a breath with it. I can not, Richard, I

really can not, see my nice round balance shrink up to half the figure that I have been used to for a lifetime. It

may be weak of me," proceeded Sir Joseph, evidently feeling that it was not weak of him at all, "but we all

have our tender place, and my Banker's Book is mine. Besides, it isn't as if you wanted it. If you wanted it, of

coursebut you don't want it. You are a rich man; you are marrying my dear Natalie for love, not for money.

You and she and my grandchildren will have it all at my death. It can make no difference to you to wait a few

years till the old man's chair at the fireside is empty. Will you say the fourth part, Richard, instead of the half?

Twenty thousand," pleaded Sir Joseph, piteously. "I can bear twenty thousand off. For God's sake don't ask

The lips of the lawyer twisted themselves sourly into an ironical smile. He was quite as fond of his money as

Sir Joseph. He ought to have felt for his client; but rich men have no sympathy with one another. Mr. Dicas

There was a pause. The robinredbreasts in the shrubbery outside must have had prodigious balances at their

bankers; they hopped up on the windowsill so fearlessly; they looked in with so little respect at the two rich

"Don't keep me in suspense, Richard," proceeded Sir Joseph. "Speak out. Is it yes or no?"

Turlington struck his hand excitedly on the table, and burst out on a sudden with the answer which had been

"Twenty thousand with all my heart!" he said. "On this condition, Graybrooke, that every farthing of it is

settled on Natalie, and on her children after her. Not a halfpenny to me!" he cried magnanimously, in his

Let no man say the rich are heartless. Sir Joseph seized his soninlaw's hand in silence, and burst into tears.

Mr. Dicas, habitually a silent man, uttered the first two words that had escaped him since the business began.

From that point the business of the settlement flowed smoothly on to its destined end. Sir Joseph explained

his views at the fullest length, and the lawyer's pen kept pace with him. Turlington, remaining in his place at

the table, restricted himself to a purely passive part in the proceedings. He answered briefly when it was

absolutely necessary to speak, and he agreed with the two elders in everything. A man has no attention to

place at the disposal of other people when he stands at a crisis in his life. Turlington stood at that crisis, at the

trying moment when Sir Joseph's unexpected proposal pressed instantly for a reply. Two merciless

alternatives confronted him. Either he must repay the borrowed forty thousand pounds on the day when

repayment was due, or he must ask Bulpit Brothers to grant him an extension of time, and so inevitably

provoke an examination into the fraudulent security deposited with the firm, which could end in but one way.

His last, literally his last chance, after Sir Joseph had diminished the promised dowry by one half, was to

adopt the highminded tone which became his position, and to conceal the truth until he could reveal it to his

fatherinlaw in the privileged character of Natalie's husband. "I owe forty thousand pounds, sir, in a

fortnight's time, and I have not got a farthing of my own. Pay for me, or you will see your soninlaw' s name

in the Bankrupt's List." For his daughter's sakewho could doubt it?Sir Joseph would produce the money.

The one thing needful was to be married in time. If either by accident or treachery Sir Joseph was led into

deferring the appointed day, by so much as a fortnight only, the fatal "call" would come, and the firm of

So he reasoned, standing on the brink of the terrible discovery which was soon to reveal to him that Natalie

He started, and roused his attention to present things. Sir Joseph on one side, and the lawyer on the other,

"My dear Richard, we have done with it long since, " replied Sir Joseph. "Have you really not heard what I

have been saying for the last quarter of an hour to good Mr. Dicas here? What can you have been thinking

Turlington did not attempt to answer the question. "Am I interested," he asked, "in what you have been

"You shall judge for yourself," answered Sir Joseph, mysteriously; "I have been giving Mr. Dicas his

instructions for making my Will. I wish the Will and the MarriageSettlement to be executed at the same

Sir Joseph's contemplated Will proved to have two meritsit was simple and it was short. Excepting one or

two trifling legacies to distant relatives, he had no one to think of (Miss Lavinia being already provided for)

but his daughter and the children who might be born of her marriage. In its various provisions, made with

these two main objects in view, the Will followed the precedents established in such cases. It differed in no

important respect from the tens of thousands of other wills made under similar circumstances. Sir Joseph's

motive in claiming special attention for it still remained unexplained, when Mr. Dicas reached the clause

devoted to the appointment of executors and trustees; and announced that this portion of the document was

"Sir Joseph Graybrooke, are you prepared to name the persons whom you appoint?" asked the lawyer.

Sir Joseph rose, apparently for the purpose of giving special importance to the terms in which he answered

It was no easy matter to astonish Mr. Dicas. Sir Joseph's reply absolutely confounded him. He looked across

the table at his client and delivered himself on this special occasion of as many as three words.

Sir Joseph's healthy complexion slightly reddened. "I never was in more complete possession of myself, Mr.

"Are you aware of what you do," persisted the lawyer, "if you appoint Mr. Turlington as sole executor and

trustee? You put it in the power of your daughter's husband, sir, to make away with every farthing of your

Turlington had hitherto listened with an appearance of interest in the proceedings, which he assumed as an

act of politeness. To his view, the future was limited to the date at which Bulpit Brothers had a right to claim

the repayment of their loan. The Will was a matter of no earthly importance to him, by comparison with the

infinitely superior interest of the Marriage. It was only when the lawyer's brutally plain language forced his

attention to it that the question of his pecuniary interest in his fatherinlaw's death assumed its fit position in

His color rose; and he too showed that he was offended by what Mr. Dicas had just said.

"Not a word, Richard! Let me speak for you as well as for myself," said Sir Joseph. "For seven years past," he

continued, turning to the lawyer, "I have been accustomed to place the most unlimited trust in Richard

Turlington. His disinterested advice has enabled me largely to increase my income, without placing a farthing

of the principal in jeopardy. On more than one occasion, I have entreated him to make use of my money in

his business. He has invariably refused to do so. Even his bitterest enemies, sir, have been obliged to

acknowledge that my interests were safe when committed to his care. Am I to begin distrusting him, now that

I am about to give him my daughter in marriage? Am I to leave it on record that I doubt him for the first

timewhen my Will is opened after my death? No! I can confide the management of the fortune which my

child will inherit after me to no more competent or more honorable hands than the hands of the man who is to

marry her. I maintain my appointment, Mr. Dicas! I persist in placing the whole responsibility under my Will

Turlington attempted to speak. The lawyer attempted to speak. Sir Josephwith a certain simple dignity

which had its effect on both of themdeclined to hear a word on either side. "No, Richard! as long as I am

alive this is my business, not yours. No, Mr. Dicas! I understand that it is your business to protest

professionally. You have protested. Fill in the blank space as I have told you. Or leave the instructions on the

table, and I will send for the nearest solicitor to complete them in your place."

Those words placed the lawyer's position plainly before him. He had no choice but to do as he was bid, or to

Sir Joseph, with oldfashioned politeness, followed him as far as the hall. Returning to the library to say a

few friendly words before finally dismissing the subject of the Will, he found himself seized by the arm, and

"Look!" cried the other, pointing through the window to a grassy walk in the grounds, bounded on either side

by shrubberies, and situated at a little distance from the house. "Who is that man? quick! before we lose

sight of himthe man crossing there from one shrubbery to the other?" Sir Joseph failed to recognize the

figure before it disappeared. Turlington whispered fiercely, close to his ear"Launcelot Linzie!"

In perfect good faith Sir Joseph declared that the man could not possibly have been Launce. Turlington's

frenzy of jealous suspicion was not to be so easily calmed. He asked significantly for Natalie. She was

reported to be walking in the grounds. "I knew it!" he said, with an oathand hurried out into the grounds to

Some little time elapsed before he came back to the house. He had discovered Nataliealone. Not a sign of

Launce had rewarded his search. For the hundredth time he had offended Natalie. For the hundredth time he

was compelled to appeal to the indulgence of her father and her aunt. "It won't happen again," he said,

sullenly penitent. "You will find me quite another man when I have got you all at my house in the country.

Mind!" he burst out, with a furtive look, which expressed his inveterate distrust of Natalie and of every one

about her. "Mind! it's settled that you all come to me in Somersetshire, on Monday next." Sir Joseph

answered rather dryly that it was settled. Turlington turned to leave the roomand suddenly came back. "It's

understood," he went on, addressing Miss Lavinia, "that the seventh of next month is the date fixed for the

marriage. Not a day later!" Miss Lavinia replied, rather dryly on her side, "Of course, Richard; not a day

Relieved on this point, she made straight for the librarya room which she rarely entered at that or any other

period of the day. Miss Lavinia followed her, curious to know what it meant. Natalie hurried to the window,

and waved her handkerchief evidently making a signal to some one outside. Miss Lavinia instantly joined

"Is it possible, Natalie?" she asked. "Has Launcelot Linzie really been here, unknown to your father or to

"Where is the harm if he has?" answered Natalie, with a sudden outbreak of temper. "Am I never to see my

She suddenly turned away her head. The rich color flowed over her face and neck. Miss Lavinia, proceeding

sternly with the administration of the necessary reproof, was silenced midway by a new change in her niece's

variable temper. Natalie burst into tears. Satisfied with this appearance of sincere contrition, the old lady

consented to overlook what had happened; and, for this occasion only, to keep her niece's secret. They would

all be in Somersetshire, she remarked, before any more breaches of discipline could be committed. Richard

had fortunately made no disco veries; and the matter might safely be trusted, all things considered, to rest

Miss Lavinia might possibly have taken a less hopeful view of the circumstances, if she had known that one

of the menservants at Muswell Hill was in Richard Turlington's pay, and that this servant had seen Launce

Thus addressing one another in whispers, the three stepdaughters of Lady Winwood stood bewildered in their

own drawingroom, helplessly confronting an object which appeared before them on the threshold of the

The date was the 23d of December. The time was between two and three in the afternoon. The occasion was

the return of the three sisters from the Committee meeting of the Sacred Concerts' Society. And the object

He stood hat in hand at the door, amazed by his reception. "I have come up this morning from

Somersetshire," he said. "Haven't you heard? A matter of business at the office has forced me to leave my

guests at my house in the country. I return to them tomorrow. When I say my guests, I mean the

Graybrookes. Don't you know they are staying with me? Sir Joseph and Miss Lavinia and Natalie?" On the

utterance of Natalie's name, the sisters roused themselves. They turned about and regarded each other with

looks of dismay. Turlington's patience began to fail him. "Will you be so good as to tell me what all this

means?" he said, a little sharply. "Miss Lavinia asked me to call here when she heard I was coming to town. I

was to take charge of a pattern for a dress, which she said you would give me. You ought to have received a

The leading spirit of the three sisters was Miss Amelia. She was the first who summoned presence of mind

"We received the telegram this morning, "she said. "Something has happened since which has shocked and

surprised us. We beg your pardon." She turned to one of her sisters. "Sophia, the pattern is ready in the

Sophia produced the packet. Before she handed it to the visitor, she looked at her sister. "Ought we to let Mr.

Amelia considered silently with herself. Dorothea, the third sister (who had not spoken yet), came forward

with a suggestion. She proposed, before proceeding further, to inquire whether Lady Winwood was in the

house. The idea was instantly adopted. Sophia rang the bell. Amelia put the questions when the servant

Lady Winwood had left the house for a drive immediately after luncheon. Lord Winwoodinquired for

nexthad accompanied her ladyship. No message had been left indicating the hour of their return.

The sisters looked at Turlington, uncertain what to say or do next. Miss Amelia addressed him as soon as the

"Is it possible for you to remain here until either my father or Lady Winwood return?" she asked.

"Will you give us one of your minutes? We want to consider something which we may have to say to you

Turlington, wondering, took a chair. Miss Amelia put the case before her sisters from the sternly

"We have not found out this abominable deception by any underhand means," she said. "The discovery has

been forced upon us, and we stand pledged to nobody to keep the secret. Knowing as we do how cruelly this

gentleman has been used, it seems to me that we are bound in honor to open his eyes to the truth. If we

remain silent we make ourselves Lady Winwood's accomplices. I, for one I don't care what may come of

Her sisters agreed with her. The first chance their clever stepmother had given them of asserting their

importance against hers was now in their hands. Their jealous hatred of Lady Winwood assumed the mask of

Dutyduty toward an outraged and deceived fellowcreature. Could any earthly motive be purer than that?

"Tell him, Amelia!" cried the two young ladies, with the headlong recklessness of the sex which only stops to

"We have something very dreadful to tell you," she said, interrupting him. "You have been presented in this

house, Mr. Turlington, as a gentleman engaged to marry Lady Winwood's cousin. Miss Natalie Graybrooke."

She paused thereat the outset of the disclosure. A sudden change of expression passed over Turlington's

face, which daunted her for the moment. "We have hitherto understood," she went on, "that you were to be

He could say that one word. Looking at their pale faces, and their eager eyes, he could say no more.

"Take care!" whispered Dorothea, in her sister's ear. "Look at him, Amelia! Not too soon."

"We have just returned from a musical meeting," she said. "One of the ladies there was an acquaintance, a

former schoolfellow of ours. She is the wife of the rector of St. Columb Majora large church, far from

"I must beg you to wait a little. I can't tell you what I want to tell you unless I refer to the rector's wife. She

knows Lady Winwood by name. And she heard of Lady Winwood recently under very strange

circumstancescircumstances connected with a signature in one of the books of the church."

Turlington lost his selfcontrol. "You have got something against my Natalie," he burst out; "I know it by

There was silence in the room. They could hear the sound of passing footsteps in the street. He stood

perfectly still on the spot where they had struck him dumb by the disclosure, supporting himself with his right

hand laid on the head of a sofa near him. The sisters drew back horrorstruck into the furthest corner of the

room. His face turned them cold. Through the mute misery which it had expressed at first, there appeared,

slowly forcing its way to view, a look of deadly vengeance which froze them to the soul. They whispered

feverishly one to the other, without knowing what they were talking of, without hearing their own voices.

One of them said, "Ring the bell!" Another said, "Offer him something, he will faint." The third shuddered,

He silenced them on the instant by speaking on his side. He came on slowly, by a step at a time, with the big

drops of agony falling slowly over his rugged face. He said, in a hoarse whisper, "Write me down the name

of the churchthere." He held out his open pocketbook to Amelia while he spoke. She steadied herself, and

wrote the address. She tried to say a word to soften him. The word died on her lips. There was a light in his

eyes as they looked at her which transfigured his face to something superhuman and devilish. She turned

He put the book back in his pocket, and passed his handkerchief over his face. After a moment of indecision,

he suddenly and swiftly stole out of the room, as if he was afraid of their calling somebody in, and stopping

him. At the door he turned round for a moment, and said, "You will hear how this ends. I wish you

The door closed on him. Left by themselves, they began to realize it. They thought of the consequences when

The Graybrookes! Now he knew it, what would become of the Graybrookes? What wou ld he do when he got

back? Even at ordinary timeswhen he was on his best behaviorhe was a rough man. What would

happen? Oh, good God! what would happen when he and Natalie next stood face to face? It was a lonely

houseNatalie had told them about itno neighbors near; nobody by to interfere but the weak old father

and the maiden aunt. Something ought to be done. Some steps ought to be taken to warn them. Advicewho

could give advice? Who was the first person who ought to be told of what had happened? Lady Winwood?

No! even at that crisis the sisters still shrank from their stepmotherstill hated her with the old hatred! Not a

word to her! They owed no duty to her! Who else could they appeal to? To their father? Yes! There was the

person to advise them. In the meanwhile, silence toward their stepmothersilence toward every one till their

They waited and waited. One after another the precious hours, pregnant with the issues of life and death,

followed each other on the dial. Lady Winwood returned alone. She had left her husband at the House of

Lords. Dinnertime came, and brought with it a note from his lordship. There was a debate at the House.

An hour later than the time at which he had been expected, Richard Turlington appeared at his office in the

He met beforehand all the inquiries which the marked change in him must otherwise have provoked, by

announcing that he was ill. Before he proceeded to business, he asked if anybody was waiting to see him.

One of the servants from Muswell Hill was waiting with another parcel for Miss Lavinia, ordered by telegram

from the country that morning. Turlington (after ascertaining the servant's name) received the man in his

private room. He there heard, for the first time, that Launcelot Linzie had been lurking in the grounds (exactly

as he had supposed) on the day when the lawyer took his instructions for the Settlement and the Will.

In two hours more Turlington's work was completed. On leaving the officeas soon as he was out of sight

of the doorhe turned eastward, instead of taking the way that led to his own house in town. Pursuing his

course, he entered the labyrinth of streets which led, in that quarter of East London, to the unsavory

By this time his mind was made up. The forecast shadow of meditated crime traveled before him already, as

He had been to the vestry of St. Columb Major, and had satisfied himself that he was misled by no false

report. There was the entry in the Marriage Register. The one unexplained mystery was the mystery of

Launce's conduct in permitting his wife to return to her father's house. Utterly unable to account for this

proceeding, Turlington could only accept facts as they were, and determine to make the most of his time,

while the woman who had deceived him was still under his roof. A hideous expression crossed his face as he

realized the idea that he had got her (unprotected by her husband) in his house. "When Launcelot Linzie does

come to claim her," he said to himself, "he shall find I have been even with him." He looked at his watch.

Was it possible to save the last train and get back that night? Nothe last train had gone. Would she take

advantage of his absence to escape? He had little fear of it. She would never have allowed her aunt to send

him to Lord Winwood's house, if she had felt the slightest suspicion of his discovering the truth in that

quarter. Returning by the first train the next morning, he might feel sure of getting back in time. Meanwhile

he had the hours of the night before him. He could give his mind to the serious question that must be settled

before he left Londonthe question of repaying the forty thousand pounds. There was but one way of

getting the money now. Sir Joseph had executed his Will; Sir Joseph's death would leave his sole executor

and trustee (the lawyer had said it!) master of his fortune. Turlington determined to be master of it in

fourandtwenty hoursstriking the blow, without risk to himself, by means of another hand. In the face of

the probabilities, in the face of the facts, he had now firmly persuaded himself that Sir Joseph was privy to

the fraud that had been practiced on him. The MarriageSettlement, the Will, the presence of the family at his

country houseall these he believed to be so many stratagems invented to keep him deceived until the last

moment. The truth was in those words which he had overheard between Sir Joseph and Launceand in

Launce's presence (privately encouraged, no doubt) at Muswell Hill. "Her father shall pay me for it doubly:

with his purse and with his life." With that thought in his heart, Richard Turlington wound his way through

the streets by the riverside, and stopped at a blind alley called Green Anchor Lane, infamous to this day as

The policeman at the corner cautioned him as he turned into the alley. "They won't hurt me!" he answered,

The landlord at the door silently recognized him, and led the way in. They crossed a room filled with sailors

of all nations drinking; ascended a staircase at the back of the house, and stopped at the door of the room on

the second floor. There the landlord spoke for the first time. "He has outrun his allowance, sir, as usual. You

will find him with hardly a rag on his back. I doubt if he will last much longer. He had another fit of the

horrors last night, and the doctor thinks badly of him." With that introduction he opened the door, and

On the miserable bed lay a grayheaded old man of gigantic stature, with nothing on him but a ragged shirt

and a pair of patched, filthy trousers. At the side of the bed, with a bottle of gin on the rickety table between

them, sat two hideous leering, painted monsters, wearing the dress of women. The smell of opium was in the

room, as well as the smell of spirits. At Turlington's appearance, the old man rose on the bed and welcomed

"Money, master!" he called out hoarsely. "A crown piece in advance, for the sake of old times!"

"Bring them here, and be quick about it. You will find it worth your while when you come back."

The women took the pawnbroker's tickets from the pockets of the man's trousers and hurried out.

Turlington closed the door, and seated himself by the bedside. He laid his hand familiarly on the giant's

The man started, and drew his huge hairy hand across his eyes, as if in doubt whether he was waking or

sleeping. "It's better than ten years, master, since you called me by my name. If I am Thomas Wildfang, what

Thomas Wildfang sat up on the side of the bed, and spoke his next words cautiously in Turlington's ear.

The giant shook his bald, bestial head dolefully. "Too late. I'm past the job. Look here."

He held up his hand, and showed it trembling incessantly. "I'm an old man," he said, and let his hand drop

The eyes of Thomas Wildfang fastened greedily on Turlington's face. "Let's hear," he said. "Softly, captain.

When the women came back with the clothes, Turlington had left the room. Their promised reward lay

waiting for them on the table, and Thomas Wildfang was eager to dress himself and be gone. They could get

but one answer from him to every question they put. He had business in hand, which was not to be delayed.

They would see him again in a day or two, with money in his purse. With that assurance he took his cudgel

from the corner of the room, and stalked out swiftly by the back door of the house into the night.

The evening was chilly, but not cold for the time of year. There was no moon. The stars were out, and the

wind was quiet. Upon the whole, the inhabitants of the little Somersetshire village of Baxdale agreed that it

Toward eight in the evening the one small street of the village was empty, except at that part of it which was

occupied by the publichouse. For the most part, people gathered round their firesides, with an eye to their

suppers, and watched the process of cooking comfortably indoors. The old bare, gray church, situated at some

little distance from the village, looked a lonelier object than usual in the dim starlight. The vicarage, nestling

close under the shadow of the churchtower, threw no illumination of firelight or candlelight on the dreary

scene. The clergyman's shutters fitted well, and the clergyman's curtains were closely drawn. The one ray of

light that cheered the wintry darkness streamed from the unguarded window of a lonely house, separated

from the vicarage by the whole length of the churchyard. A man stood at the window, holding back the

shutter, and looking out attentively over the dim void of the burialground. The man was Richard Turlington.

A momentary spark of light flashed up, as from a kindled match, in the burialground. Turlington instantly

left the empty room in which he had been watching. Passing down the back garden of the house, and crossing

a narrow lane at the bottom of it, he opened a gate in a low stone wall beyond, and entered the church yard.

The shadowy figure of a man of great stature, lurking among the graves, advanced to meet him. Midway in

the dark and lonely place the two stopped and consulted together in whispers. Turlington spoke first.

"Did you find your way, while the daylight lasted, to the deserted malthouse behind my orchard wall?"

"Now listenwe have no time to lose. Hide there, behind that monument. Before nine o'clock tonight you

will see me cross the churchyard, as far as this place, with the man you are to wait for. He is going to spend

an hour with the vicar, at the house yonder. I shall stop short here, and say to him, 'You can't miss your way

in the dark nowI will go back.' When I am far enough away from him, I shall blow a call on my whistle.

The moment you hear the call, follow the man, and drop him before he gets out of the churchyard. Have you

Thomas Wildfang held up his cudgel. Turlington took him by the arm, and felt it suspiciously.

"You have had an attack of the horrors already," he said. "What does this trembling mean?"

He took a spiritflask from his pocket as he spoke. Thomas Wildfang snatched it out of his hand, and

emptied it at a draught. "All right now, master," he said. Turlington felt his arm once more. It was steadier

already. Wildfang brandished his cudgel, and struck a heavy blow with it on one of the turf mounds near

"Rob him when you have dropped him. Take his money and his jewelry. I want to have the killing of him

attributed to robbery as the motive. Make sure before you leave him that he is dead. Then go to the

malthouse. There is no fear of your being seen; all the people will be indoors, keeping Christmaseve. You

will find a change of clothes hidden in the malthouse, and an old caldron full of quicklime. Destroy the

clothes you have got on, and dress yourself in the other clothes that you find. Follow the crossroad, and

when it brings you into the highroad, turn to the left; a fourmile walk will take you to the town of

Harminster. Sleep there tonight, and travel to London by the train in the morning. The next day go to my

office, see the head clerk, and say, 'I have come to sign my receipt.' Sign it in your own name, and you will

receive your hundred pounds. There are your instructions. Do you understand them?"

Wildfang nodded his head in silent token that he understood, and disappeared again among the graves.

He had advanced midway across the garden, when he was startled by the sound of footsteps in the laneat

that part of it which skirted one of the corners of the house. Hastening forward, he placed himself behind a

projection in the wall, so as to see the person pass across the stream of light from the uncovered window of

the room that he had left. The stranger was walking rapidly. All Turlington could see as he crossed the field

of light was, that his hat was pulled over his eyes, and that he had a thick beard and mustache. Describing the

man to the servant on entering the house, he was informed that a stranger with a large beard had been seen

about the neighborhood for some days past. The account he had given of himself stated that he was a

surveyor, engaged in taking measurements for a new map of that part of the country, shortly to be published.

The guilty mind of Turlington was far from feeling satisfied with the meager description of the stranger thus

rendered. He could not be engaged in surveying in the dark. What could he want in the desolate

The man wantedwhat the man found a little lower down the lane, hidden in a dismantled part of the

churchyard walla letter from a young lady. Read by the light of the pocketlantern which he carried with

him, the letter first congratulated this person on the complete success of his disguiseand then promised that

the writer would be ready at her bedroom window for flight the next morning, before the house was astir. The

In the meanwhile, Turlington barred the window shutters of the room, and looked at his watch. It wanted only

a quarter to nine o'clock. He took his dogwhistle from the chimneypiece, and turned his steps at once in the

The scene in the drawingroom represented the ideal of domestic comfort. The fire of wood and coal mixed

burned brightly; the lamps shed a soft glow of light; the solid shutters and the thick red curtains kept the cold

night air on the outer side of two long windows, which opened on the back garden. Snug armchairs were

placed in every part of the room. In one of them Sir Joseph reclined, fast asleep; in another, Miss Lavinia sat

knitting; a third chair, apart from the rest, near a round table in one corner of the room, was occupied by

Natalie. Her head was resting on her hand, an unread book lay open on her lap. She looked pale and harassed;

anxiety and suspense had worn her down to the shadow of her former self. On entering the room, Turlington

purposely closed the door with a bang. Natalie started. Miss Lavinia looked up reproachfully. The object was

"If you are going to the vicar's tonight. Graybrooke," said Turlington, "it's time you were off, isn't it?"

Sir Joseph rubbed his eyes, and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Yes, yes, Richard," he answered,

His sister and his daughter both joined in trying to persuade him to send an excuse instead of groping his way

to the vicarage in the dark. Sir Joseph hesitated, as usual. He and the vicar had run up a sudden friendship, on

the strength of their common enthusiasm for the oldfashioned game of backgammon. Victorious over his

opponent on the previous evening at Turlington's house, Sir Joseph had promised to pass that evening at the

vicarage, and give the vicar his revenge. Observing his indecision, Turlington cunningly irritated

him by affecting to believe that he was really unwilling to venture out in the dark. "I'll see you safe across the

churchyard," he said; "and the vicar's servant will see you safe back." The tone in which he spoke instantly

roused Sir Joseph. "I am not in my second childhood yet, Richard," he replied, testily. "I can find my way by

myself." He kissed his daughter on the forehead. "No fear, Natalie. I shall be back in time for the mulled

claret. No, Richard, I won't trouble you." He kissed his hand to his sister and went out into the hall for his hat:

Turlington following him with a rough apology, and asking as a favor to be permitted to accompany him part

of the way only. The ladies, left behind in the drawingroom, heard the apology accepted by kindhearted Sir

"Have you noticed Richard since his return?" asked Miss Lavinia. "I fancy he must have heard bad news in

For the time, no more was said. Miss Lavinia went monotonously on with her knitting. Natalie pursued her

own anxious thoughts over the unread pages of the book in her lap. Suddenly the deep silence out of doors

and in was broken by a shrill whistle, sounding from the direction of the churchyard. Natalie started with a

"My dear child, your nerves must be sadly out of order. What is there to be frightened at?"

"I am not very well, aunt. It is so still here at night, the slightest noises startle me."

There was another interval of silence. It was past nine o'clock when they heard the back door opened and

closed again. Turlington came hurriedly into the drawingroom, as if he had some reason for wishing to

rejoin the ladies as soon as possible. To the surprise of both of them, he sat down abruptly in the corner, with

his face to the wall, and took up the newspaper, without casting a look at them or uttering a word.

"All right." He gave the answer in a short, surly tone, still without looking round.

Miss Lavinia tried him again. "Did you hear a whistle while you were out? It quite startled Natalie in the

He turned halfway round. "My shepherd, I suppose," he said after a pause"whistling for his dog." He

Miss Lavinia beckoned to her niece and pointed significantly to Turlington. After one reluctant look at him,

Natalie laid her head wearily on her aunt's shoulder. "Sleepy, my dear?" whispered the old lady. "Uneasy,

auntI don't know why," Natalie whispered back. "I would give the world to be in London, and to hear the

Turlington suddenly dropped his newspaper. "What's the secret between you two?" he called out roughly.

"We wish not to disturb you over your reading, that is all," said Miss Lavinia, coldly. "Has anything

The old lady was offended, and showed it by saying nothing more. Natalie nestled closer to her aunt. One

after another the clock ticked off the minutes with painful distinctness in the stillness of the room. Turlington

suddenly threw aside the newspaper and left his corner. "Let's be good friends!" he burst out, with a clumsy

assumption of gayety. "This isn't keeping Christmaseve. Let's talk and be sociable. Dearest Natalie!" He

threw his arm roughly round Natalie, and drew her by main force away from her aunt. She turned deadly

pale, and struggled to release herself. "I am sufferingI am illlet me go!" He was deaf to her entreaties.

"What! your husband that is to be, treated in this way? Mustn't I have a kiss?I will!" He held her closer

with one hand, and, seizing her head with the other, tried to turn her lips to him. She resisted with the inbred

nervous strength which the weakest woman living has in reserve when she is outraged. Half indignant, half

terrified, at Turlington's roughness, Miss Lavinia rose to interfere. In a moment more he would have had two

women to overpower instead of one, when a noise outside the window suddenly suspended the ignoble

There was a sound of footsteps on the gravelwalk which ran between the house wall and the garden lawn. It

They all three stood still. For a moment more nothing was audible. Then there was a heavy shock, as of

something falling outside. Then a groan, then another interval of silencea long silence, interrupted no

Turlington's arm dropped from Natalie. She drew back to her aunt. Looking at him instinctively, in the

natural expectation that he would take the lead in penetrating the mystery of what had happened outside the

window, the two women were thunderstruck to see that he was, to all appearance, even more startled and

more helpless than they were. "Richard," said Miss Lavinia, pointing to the window, "there is something

wrong out there. See what it is." He stood motionless, as if he had not heard her, his eyes fixed on the

A cry of horror burst from Natalie. The voice outsiderising wildly, then suddenly dying away againwas

not entirely strange to her ears. She tore aside the curtain. With voice and hand she roused her aunt to help

her. The two lifted the heavy bar from its socket; they opened the shutters and the window. The cheerful light

of the room flowed out over the body of a prostrate man, lying on his face. They turned the man over. Natalie

His face was bedabbled with blood. A wound, a frightful wound, was visible on the side of his bare head,

high above the ear. He looked at her, his eyes recognized her, before he fainted again in her arms. His hands

and his clothes were covered with earth stains. He must have traversed some distance; in that dreadful

condition he must have faltered and fallen more than once before he reached the house. His sister wiped the

blood from his face. His daughter called on him frantically to forgive her before he diedthe harmless,

gentle, kindhearted father, who had never said a hard word to her! The father whom she had deceived!

The terrified servants hurried into the room. Their appearance roused their master from the extraordinary

stupor that had seized him. He was at the window before the footman could get there. The two lifted Sir

Joseph into the room, and laid him on the sofa. Natalie knelt by him, supporting his head. Miss Lavinia

stanched the flowing blood with her handkerchief. The womenservants brought linen and cold water. The

man hurried away for the doctor, who lived on the other side of the village. Left alone again with Turlington,

Natalie noticed that his eyes were fixed in immovable scrutiny on her father's head. He never said a word. He

The doctor arrived. Before either the daughter or the sister of the injured man could put the question,

"Make your minds easy. A little lower down, or in front, the blow might have been serious. As it is, there is

no harm done. Keep him quiet, and he will be all right again in two or three days."

Hearing those welcome words, Natalie and her aunt sank on their knees in silent gratitude. After dressing the

wound, the doctor looked round for the master of the house. Turlington, who had been so breathlessly eager

but a few minutes since, seemed to have lost all interest in the case now. He stood apart, at the window,

looking out toward the churchyard, thinking. The questions which it was the doctor's duty to ask were

answered by the ladies. The servants assisted in examining the injured man's clothes: they discovered that his

watch and purse were both missing. When it became necessary to carry him upstairs, it was the footman who

assisted the doctor. The foot man's master, without a word of explanation, walked out bare headed into the

back garden, on the search, as the doctor and the servants supposed, for some trace of the robber who had

His absence was hardly noticed at the time. The difficulty of conveying the wounded man to his room

Sir Joseph partially recovered his senses while they were taking him up the steep and narrow stairs. Carefully

as they carried the patient, the motion wrung a groan from him before they reached the top. The bedroom

corridor, in the rambling, irregularly built house rose and fell on different levels. At the door of the first

bedchamber the doctor asked a little anxiously if that was the room. No; there were three more stairs to go

down, and a corner to turn, before they could reach it. The first room was Natalie's. She instantly offered it

for her father's use. The doctor (seeing that it was the airiest as well as the nearest room) accepted the

proposal. Sir Joseph had been laid comfortably in his daughter's bed; the doctor had just left them, with

renewed assurances that they need feel no anxiety, when they heard a heavy step below stairs. Turlington had

(He had been looking, as they had supposed, for the ruffian who had attacked Sir Joseph; with a motive,

however, for the search at which it was impossible for other persons to guess. His own safety was now bound

up in the safety of Thomas Wildfang. As soon as he was out of sight in the darkness, he made straight for the

malthouse. The change of clothes was there untouched; not a trace of his accomplice was to be seen. Where

else to look for him it was impossible to tell. Turlington had no alternative but to go back to the house, and

He had only to ascend the stairs, and to see, through the open door, that Sir Joseph had been placed in his

Before it was possible to answer him the footman appeared with a message. The doctor had come back to the

door to say that he would take on himself the necessary duty of informing the constable of what had

happened, on his return to the village. Turlington started and changed color. If Wildfang was found by others,

and questioned in his employer's absence, serious consequences might follow. "The constable is my

business," said Turlington, hurriedly descending the stairs; "I'll go with the doctor." They heard him open the

door below, then close it again (as if some sudden thought had struck him), and call to the footman. The

house was badly provided with servants' bedrooms. The womenservants only slept indoors. The footman

occupied a room over the stables. Natalie and her aunt heard Turlington dismiss the man for the night, an

hour earlier than usual at least. His next proceeding was stranger still. Looking cautiously over the stairs,

Natalie saw him lock all the doors on the groundfloor and take out the keys. When he went away, she heard

him lock the front door behind him. Incredible as it seemed, there could be no doubt of the factthe inmates

(It meant that Turlington's vengeance still remained to be wreaked on the woman who had deceived him. It

meant that Sir Joseph's life still stood between the man who had compassed his death and the money which

the man was resolved to have. It meant that Richard Turlington was driven to bay, and that the horror and the

Natalie and her aunt looked at each other across the bed on which Sir Joseph lay. He had fallen into a kind of

doze; no enlightenment could come to them from him. They could only ask each other, with beating hearts

and baffled minds, what Richard's conduct meantthey could only feel instinctively that some dreadful

discovery was hanging over them. The aunt was the calmer of the twothere was no secret weighing heavily

on her conscience. She could feel the consolations of religion. "Our dear one is spared to us, my love," said

the old lady, gently. "God has been good to us. We are in his hands. If we know that, we know enough."

As she spoke there was a loud ring at the doorbell. The womenservants crowded into the bedroom in alarm.

Strong in numbers, and encouraged by Nataliewho roused herself and led the way they confronted the

risk of opening the window and of venturing out on the balcony which extended along that side of the house.

A man was dimly visible below. He called to them in thick, unsteady accents. The servants recognized him:

he was the telegraphic messenger from the railway. They went down to speak to himand returned with a

telegram which had been pushed in under the door. The distance from the station was considerable; the

messenger had been "keeping Christmas" in more than one beershop on his way to the house; and the

delivery of the telegram had been delayed for some hours. It was addressed to Natalie. She opened

itlooked at itdropped itand stood speechless; her lips parted in horror, her eyes staring vacantly

"Lady Winwood, Hertford Street, London. To Natalie Graybrooke, Church Meadows, Baxdale,

Somersetshire. Dreadful news. R. T. has discovered your marriage to Launce. The truth has been kept from

me till today (24th). Instant flight with your husband is your only chance. I would have communicated with

Launce, but I do not know his address. You will receive this, I hope and believe, before R. T. can return to

Somersetshire. Telegraph back, I entreat you, to say that you are safe. I shall follow my message if I do not

Miss Lavinia lifted her gray head, and looked at her niece. "Is this true?" she saidand pointed to the

venerable face laid back, white, on the white pillow of the bed. Natalie sank forward as her eyes met the eyes

The confession had been made. The words of penitence and the words of pardon had been spoken. The

peaceful face of the father still lay hushed in rest. One by one the minutes succeeded each other uneventfully

in the deep tranquillity of the night. It was almost a relief when the silence was disturbed once more by

another sound outside the house. A pebble was thrown up at the window, and a voice called out cautiously,

He had something to say to the ladies in private. How could he say it? A domestic circumstance which had

been marked by Launce, as favorable to the contemplated elopement, was now noticed by the servant as

lending itself readily to effecting the necessary communication with the ladies. The lock of the gardener's

toolhouse (in the shrubbery close by) was under repair; and the gardener's ladder was accessible to any one

who wanted it. At the short height of the balcony from the ground, the ladder was more than long enough for

the purpose required. In a few minutes the servant had mounted to the balcony, and could speak to Natalie

"I can't rest quiet," said the man, "I'm off on the sly to see what's going on down in the village. It's hard on

ladies like you to be locked in here. Is there anything I can do for either of you?"

Natalie took up Lady Winwood's telegram. "Launce ought to see this," she said to her aunt. "He will be here

Miss Lavinia turned pale. "If he and Richard meet" she began. "Tell him!" she added, hurriedly"tell him

Natalie wrote a few lines (addressed to Launce in his assumed name at his lodgings in the village) inclosing

Lady Winwood's telegram, and entreating him to do nothing rash. When the servant had disappeared with the

letter, there was one hope in her mind and in her aunt's mind, which each was ashamed to acknowledge to the

other the hope that Launce would face the very danger that they dreaded for him, and come to the house.

They had not been long alone again, when Sir Joseph drowsily opened his eyes and asked what they were

doing in his room. They told him gently that he was ill. He put his hand up to his head, and said they were

right, and so dropped off again into slumber. Worn out by the emotions through which they had passed, the

two women silently waited for the march of events. The same stupor of resignation possessed them both.

They had secured the door and the window. They had prayed together. They had kissed the quiet face on the

pillow. They had said to each other, "We will live with him or die with him as God pleases." Miss Lavinia sat

by the bedside. Natalie was on a stool at her feetwith her eyes closed, and her head on her aunt's knee.

Time went on. The clock in the hall had struckten or eleven, they were not sure whichwhen they heard

the signal which warned them of the servant's return from the village. He brought news, and more than news;

"I shall be with you, dearest, almost as soon as you receive this. The bearer will tell you what has happened in

the village your note throws a new light on it all. I only remain behind to go to the vicar (who is also the

magistrate here), and declare myself your husband. All disguise must be at an end now. My place is with you

and yours. It is even worse than your worst fears. Turlington was at the bottom of the attack on your father.

Natalie handed the letter to her aunt, and pointed to the sentence which asserted Turlington's guilty

knowledge of the attempt on Sir Joseph's life. In silent horror the two women looked at each other, recalling

what had happened earlier in the evening, and understanding it now. The servant roused them to a sense of

The place was all astir when he reached it. An old mana stranger in Baxdalehad been found lying in the

road, close to the church, in a fit; and the person who had discovered him had been no other than Launce

himself. He had, literally, stumbled over the body of Thomas Wildfang in the dark, on his way back to his

"The gentleman gave the alarm, miss," said the servant, describing the event, as it had been related to him,

"and the mana huge, big old manwas carried to the inn. The landlord identified him; he had taken

lodgings at the inn that day, and the constable found valuable property on hima purse of money and a gold

watch and chain. There was nothing to show who the money and the watch belonged to. It was only when my

master and the doctor got to the inn that it was known whom he had robbed and tried to murder. All he let out

in his wanderings before they came was that some person had set him on to do it. He called the person

'Captain,' and sometimes 'Captain Goward.' It was thoughtif you could trust the ravings of a

madmanthat the fit took him while he was putting his hand on Sir Joseph's heart to feel if it had stopped

beating. A sort of vision (as I understand it) must have overpowered him at the moment. They tell me he

raved about the sea bursting into the church yard, and a drowning sailor floating by on a hencoop; a sailor

who dragged him down to hell by the hair of his head, and such like horrible nonsense, miss. He was still

screeching, at the worst of the fit, when my master and the doctor came into the room. At sight of one or

other of themit is thought of Mr. Turlington, seeing that he came firsthe held his peace on a sudden, and

then fell back in convulsions in the arms of the men who were holding him. The doctor gave it a learned

name, signifying drinkmadness, and said the case was hopeless. However, he ordered the room to be cleared

of the crowd to see what be could do. My master was reported to be still with the doctor, waiting to see

whether the man lived or died, when I left the village, miss, with the gentleman's answer to your note. I didn't

Having reached the end of his narrative, the man looked round restlessly toward the window. It was

impossible to say when his master might not return, and it might be as much as his life was worth to be

caught in the house after he had been locked out of it. He begged permission to open the window, and make

his escape back to the stables while there was still time. As he unbarred the shutter they were startled by a

voice hailing them from below. It was Launce's voice calling to Natalie. The servant disappeared, and Natalie

For one delicious moment she let her head lie on his breast; then she suddenly pushed him away from her.

"Why do you come here? He will kill you if he finds you in the house. Where is he?"

Launce knew even less of Turlington's movements than the servant. "Wherever he is, thank God, I am here

Natalie and her aunt heard him in silent dismay. Sir Joseph woke, and recognized Launce before a word more

could be said. "Ah, my dear boy!" he murmured, faintly. "It's pleasant to see you again. How do you come

here?" He was quite satisfied with the first excuse that suggested itself. "We'll talk about it to morrow," he

"We don't know what may have happened," she said. "He may have followed you on your way here. He may

Miss Lavinia added her persuasions. They were useless. Launce quietly closed the heavy windowshutters,

"Have you been to the magistrate?" she asked. "Tell us, at least, are you here by his advice? Is he coming to

Launce hesitated. If he had told the truth, he must have acknowledged that he was there in direct opposition

to the magistrate's advice. He answered evasively, "If the vicar doesn't come, the doctor will. I have told him

Sir Joseph must he moved. Cheer up, Natalie! The doctor will be here as soon as Turlington."

As the name passed his lipswithout a sound outside to prepare them for what was comingthe voice of

Turlington himself suddenly penetrated into the room, speaking close behind the window, on the outer side.

"You have broken into my house in the night," said the voice. "And you don't escape this way."

Miss Lavinia sank on her knees. Natalie flew to her father. His eyes were wide open in terror; he moaned,

feebly recognizing the voice. The next sound that was heard was the sound made by the removal of the ladder

from the balcony. Turlington, having descended by it, had taken it away. Natalie had but too accurately

guessed what would happen. The death of the villain's accomplice had freed him from all apprehension in

that quarter. He had deliberately dogged Launce's steps, and had deliberately allowed him to put himself in

There was an intervala horrible intervaland then they heard the front door opened. Without stopping

(judging by the absence of sound) to close it again, Turlington rapidly ascended the stairs and tried the locked

"Come out, and give yourself up!" he called through the door. "I have got my revolver with me, and I have a

right to fire on a man who has broken into my house. If the door isn't opened before I count three, your blood

Launce was armed with nothing but his stick. He advanced, without an instant's hesitation, to give himself up.

Natalie threw her arms round him and clasped him fast before he could reach the door.

"Two!" cried the voice outside, as Launce struggled to force her from him. At the same moment his eye

turned toward the bed. It was exactly opposite the doorit was straight in the line of fire! Sir Joseph' s life

(as Turlington had deliberately calculated) was actually in greater danger than Launce's life. He tore himself

The crash of the report sounded. The bullet came through the door, grazed Launce's left arm, and buried itself

in the pillow, at the very place on which Sir Joseph's head had rested the moment before. Launce had saved

his fatherinlaw's life. Turlington had fired his first shot for the money, and had not got it yet.

They were safe in the corner of the room, on the same side as the doorSir Joseph, helpless as a child, in

Launce's arms; the women pale, but admirably calm. They were safe for the moment, when the second bullet

"I hear you," cried the voice of the miscreant on the other side of the door. "I'll have you yetthrough the

There was a pause. They heard his hand sounding the wall, to find out where there was solid wood in the

material of which it was built, and where there was plaster only. At that dreadful moment Launce's

composure never left him. He laid Sir Joseph softly on the floor, and signed to Natalie and her aunt to lie

down by him in silence. Their lives depended now on neither their voices nor their movements telling the

murderer where to fire. He chose his place. The barrel of the revolver grated as he laid it against the wall. He

touched the hair trigger. A faint click was the only sound that followed. The third barrel had missed fire.

Before they could ask themselves the question, the report of the exploding charge burst on their ears. It was

instantly followed by a heavy fall. They looked at the opposite wall of the room. No sign of a bullet there or

Launce signed to them not to move yet. They waited, and listened. Nothing stirred on the landing outside.

Suddenly there was a disturbance of the silence in the lower regionsa clamor of many voices at the open

house door. Had the firing of the revolver been heard at the vicarage? Yes! They recognized the vicar's voice

among the others. A moment more, and they heard a general exclamation of horror on the stairs. Launce

opened the door of the room. He instantly closed it again before Natalie could follow him.

The dead body of Turlington lay on the landing outside. The charge in the fourth barrel of the revolver had

exploded while he was looking at it. The bullet had entered his mouth and killed him on the spot.

"Sir Joseph Graybrooke and Miss Graybrooke request the honor of Lord and Lady Winwood's company to

dinner, on Wednesday, February 10, at halfpast seven o'clock. To meet Mr. and Mrs. Launcelot Linzie on

"We are requested to give the fullest contradiction to unfavorable rumors lately in circulation respecting the

firm of Pizzituti, Turlington, and Branca. Some temporary derangement in the machinery of the business was

undoubtedly produced in consequence of the sudden death of the lamented managing partner, Mr. Turlington,

by the accidental discharge of a revolver which he was examining. Whatever temporary obstacles may have

existed are now overcome. We are informed, on good authority, that the wellknown house of Messrs. Bulpit

Brothers has an interest in the business, and will carry it on until further notice."