"Weel, la.s.sie, he did want a deal o' pruning, certainly," said McCray.

"But I'm very--very grateful!" sobbed Jane, "for the poor child seems all one has to live for now!"

"All, la.s.sie?" said McCray, dryly.

"Well, no; not all," said Jane. "But I'm not worthy of you, and I never ought to have made you the promise I did, for I can't love you as much as you ought to be loved."

"Hoot, la.s.sie!" cried McCray, kneeling by her side, and drawing her to him, "gin ye try like that, I'm quite satisfied, for what more need a man wush for, than for his couthie wee bodie to try and love him with all her heart?"

Book 1, Chapter x.x.xIX.

MR CHUNT'S TOAST.

Mr Chunt presided over a good many discussions in his parlour, where farmer and tradesman met to talk over the course of events during the first few weeks. The subject of Lady Gernon's disappearance was tabooed by general consent. It was not the first event of the kind that had happened through badly-a.s.sorted marriages, and wouldn't be the last, said the baker, sententiously; and then it was acknowledged by general consent that money didn't make happiness, and that there was a deal of wickedness in this world.

Upon another night Mr Chunt took to bewailing in public the injury done to his trade, by the shutting up of the Castle.

"Looks a reg'lar devastation, gentlemen," he said; "things all in holland, shutters closed, stables locked up, and all just as if it didn't belong to n.o.body."

"Oh, Sir Murray will be back one of these days," said a small farmer, cheerfully, "and then trade will brighten up again; meanwhile, you must be contented with our custom, Chunt. He'll tire of foreign parts, you'll see."

"Don't hear any likelihood of Mrs Norton going, I suppose?" said one.

"Not she, poor little woman; she even looks quite cheerful, and is always out with that little boy of hers. n.o.ble little chap he grows!"

"Ah!" said another, "he played his cards well, the Captain did. He hadn't been gone long before there was two couples down to arrest him-- two parties, one after the other. Stopped here, they did.

Post-chaises: come down in style. Didn't they, Chunt?" The landlord nodded in confirmation. "Just got away in time. Pity, though. He'd have been a bonny man if it hadn't been for his disappointment, and those iron shares. It was on account of his being director, and answerable for a good deal, I suppose, that the bailiffs wanted him."

A week pa.s.sed, and then Chunt, who had been waiting to have a good full audience, brought out a large auctioneer's posting bill, and laid it before his customers as a surprise.

"What d'yer think of that, gentlemen, eh?" he said. "Merland will be another place soon. There's poor old Gurdon and poor old Barker both dead within the last four-and-twenty hours, and now that's been sent to me to stick up in the bar. Read it out, Mr Mouncey."

The baker put on his spectacles, and read aloud the list of the "elegant and superior household furniture and effects, to be sold by auction, without reserve, at Merland Rectory, by direction of the Reverend Henry Elstree, who was leaving the place."

"Chunt's about right," said Huttoft, the saddler: "the place won't be the same, soon. The old people at the Rectory ain't looked the same, since I saw them coming back that day from the Hall--the day after Lady Gernon elop--disappeared."

"Well, gentlemen," said the landlord, "I believe I'm as sorry as any one present; but it's no use to fret for other folks' troubles. I propose that we have gla.s.ses round of brandy hot, gentlemen, for I feel quite sinking."

"Do you pay, Chunt?" said Mouncey, jocosely.

"There ain't a man present as would be more free, gentlemen," said the landlord, "if I could; but, I put it to the company, with the present fall off in my trade, am I able?"

"No--no!" was chorused; and, the gla.s.ses being filled, Jonathan Chunt proposed a toast which was drunk with acclamation, and the landlord's toast was:

"Gentlemen, here's to happier times!"

End of Book I.

Book 2, Chapter I.

AFTER TWENTY YEARS.

"You dog! you confounded lubber! Drive on, or you'll have them out of sight!" shouted a frank, opened-faced young fellow of some three or four and twenty, as he leaned out of the front window of a post-chaise, and urged his post-boy to increase of speed.

"An' how can I get another mile an hour out on such bastes, yer honner?"

said the post-boy in answer. "The crayture I'm riding takes no more heed of the spur than the grate baste the levvyathan of Howly Scripture; and as to the blind mare there, the more I larrup her the more she hangs back out ov the collar."

"Gammon!--nonsense!" cried the young man: "you can catch them if you like."

"Shure, sor, I'd catch 'em if it was me. The spirit of me's been close alongside this last quarter of an hour; but the bastes here 'ave got skins like a rhinosros."

"Half a guinea if you catch them and go by in the next two miles,"

shouted the traveller.

"An why didn't ye spake sooner, sor? It's meself's the boy to get it out of the bastes if it's to be done at all;" and the effect of the golden spur was soon visible in the way in which the mire of the cross-country road flew up from the whirling wheels.

For a couple of hours now, with the present and the preceding post-boy, had this chase been carried on,--now one chaise, now the other, being to the fore; the explanation of this being of the simplest character.

Lieutenant Brace Norton, of H.M.S. "Icarus," had just arrived in port, and was, as he put it, homeward bound after his first voyage with the rank of lieutenant. In fact, he took so much pride in his epaulette, won after no end of midshipman's adventures, that, until better sense prevailed, he had had some thought of wearing it home. He had travelled as far as the county town by rail, and now, having a rather large idea of his own importance, was finishing his journey in one of the post-chaises--scarce things then--left upon the road. At the railway station he had twice encountered a fair young face, small, dark, oval, and with a pair of sad-looking, l.u.s.trous eyes, their owner leaning upon the arm of a tall, grey-haired gentleman; and after making his way to the hotel and ordering his conveyance, spending the time consumed in getting it ready by smoking a cigar, he was startled, upon going to the door to lounge about the steps, by seeing the same travellers take their places in a chaise which had been prepared before his own.

"Do you know who that gentleman is?" he had said to the landlord, who had bowed his visitors to the door.

"Can't say, sir, I'm sure," was the reply. "Please excuse me, sir--I'm wanted."

"Here waiter, my chaise; look sharp!" exclaimed the young lieutenant, slipping a shilling into the man's hand, on seeing the direction the first chaise had taken. "Hurry them on, there's a good fellow, and tell them to put in the best pair of horses."

"Best pair's gone, sir, with number one chaise, but I'll get them to look alive."

In spite of his stamping with impatience, and conducting himself in a most unreasonable manner, even to going into the yard himself, and hoisting the sluggish post-boy--a youth of about sixty--into his jacket, a full quarter of an hour elapsed before the chaise began to rattle out of the yard with the traveller in it.

"Here--hi! stop!" shouted a voice, as they turned down the main street.

"What the deuce now?" exclaimed the traveller, as the post-boy pulled up, after nearly running into a flock of sheep, and the waiter came panting up.

"Please, sir, you ain't paid for the cigar, and sherry and biscuit,"

exclaimed the man, in injured tones.

"Confound it, no!" cried the young man. "And--I say, I haven't got my portmanteau! There, my man, look sharp, whatever you do!"

Five minutes more elapsed, but at length the bill was paid, the portmanteau secured to the front, and the crazy vehicle was once more well under weigh, the young sailor fuming the while with impatience.

But as soon as the town was pa.s.sed, liberal promises sent the shabby cattle scuffling along at a pretty good pace; and when the traveller had about given up all hopes of again seeing the face that had attracted his attention, the first post-chaise became visible, slowly crawling up one of the hills about half-way between Lincoln and Marshton, when again urging on the post-boy, the vehicle was at length overtaken, and whilst pa.s.sing it the young man's heart leaped as he again caught sight of the fair traveller, leaning forward to see who was pa.s.sing, but withdrawing instantly upon seeing that she was the object of attention.

Twice did Brace Norton find the opportunities for a short glance at the now averted face: once during the stages, and again when they changed horses at Marshton; but now, to his disgust, it seemed that he had been favoured with worse cattle than before; and in spite of his urging the fresh post-boy--a native of "Sorrey," as he took an opportunity of a.s.suring his employer--it seemed that he was to be left entirely at the rear, to see the face no more.

But the golden spur prevailed; and as the young lieutenant saw that they were gaining rapidly, he threw himself back, muttering, "What a thing it is that there are no women at sea! It only wants their presence to make it perfect. I wonder who those can be, though? On a visit somewhere.

Jove! What luck if it's anywhere near us!"

His reverie was interrupted by the broadly-speaking post-boy yoho-ing to the one in front, and the next minute they pa.s.sed the first chaise in an easy canter; but Brace Norton obtained no view, for, to his great chagrin, the window on this side--the side occupied by the gentleman-- had the blind drawn down.