"We couldn't make out naught from the | among the great trees, bringing down the doctor's letter. Have he got away from leaves in showers, and beating against the them revenue folk? and where were it window-panes. The world looked very sad you've a been? and who's took?" 66 and dreary. She seemed to herself to have left her girlhood somewhere behind her, and to have subsided into a grey middle age, wherein she walked up and down and wondered at her own deadness. "Take the girl in and warm her, and give her summat t'eat, mother, first," observed Amyas, as he looked at Lettice's white face, "afore ye ask her all them questions. What, ain't there a spunk of While Job wondered what had become fire?" he added, as they came into the of Norton, and "what about Ned," with cold, comfortless, dark " hall-place." praiseworthy perseverance every morning "I never lights the grate till mid Novem-regularly at the same hour and in the same ber, as well you knows, Amyas; and this ain't but the first days," said his mother, with great decision. She regulated her fires by the almanac, not by the cold or the feelings of her friends. "But there's a bit in the kitchen anyhow." And she led the way in. 66 "I saw a wisp o' summat, hitched up on the mantle 'twere," said Nancy, the dunch," when she was appealed to; "and we was short one day o' paper for to light the fire. No; I nivir give a thought as 'twere aught as sinnified when I took he." ""Twere on'y from Ned," said Job, in a consoling tone, as the poor girl's face fell and she looked as if she were going to burst out crying. "SINGLE MISFORTUNES NEVER COME ALONE." ALL things seemed to fall again for Lettice into the old ruts, and all was strangely the same, and yet her feeling so different, that she sometimes pinched herself to know if she were indeed herself. In one sense her grandmother's incessant complaints and lectures seemed to fall unnoticed on her preoccupied mind, in which she almost unconsciously went on living over again the existence of the last few months; but, on the other hand, she missed the pleasant solitude of the past when she could think out her own thoughts uninterruptedly. The weather had entirely broken up, and the wind and rain moaned ceaselessly words, she added a sort of postscript in her own mind in favour of Everhard and Caleb, and the whole tribe of Edneys. But neither of them got any answer to their inquiries. 66 'I hold as Norton 'ud get away: he were ever a wisome chap, even from a little lad, he were," he generally ended. News was long in reaching the secluded Woodhouse, but at length Job came in one day as much excited as was possible to his philosophic tone of mind. "What d'ye think's up now? they've a took up Norton Lisle at last! and who d'ye think's done it? Why, Ned! Seems he was following arter him day and night after that time at the Puckspiece Lettie were telling on, and never so much as knew who 'twas he were after. (All them stories along o' Red Jack had pretty nigh died out for they young things this long fur time.) And so it came to pass as Ned got upon his track not far from the old Bugle.' I dessay he were biding along o' that Saul Saull; he were ever a rare 'un for hiding and helping them o' the fair trade. And Norton ran, and Ned ran ever so fur, and Ned were fleeter o' foot nor the t'other. It wouldn't ha' been so ten year back, I know that: Norton were a trimming smart young fella; but we don't grow no younger, not most of us," said Job, plaintively, but prudently qualifying this general admis sion. water being so shalla'; and Ned hadn't not | peated, passionately. "And as if I were to a stroke o' harm. I've a had ye in my blame, him coming across my duty like grip before, my man; but I've got ye fast that." 6 "There's a letter from them lawyers saying Wallcott's agoing to foreclose and take possession, that he won't give a day's more time," said he, moodily, one morning soon after to the rest. now,' says he, quite satisfied. And the Amyas's bad time seemed now to have other looks up and says, so bitter, Ye've reached a crisis. a done a shrewd turn to yer sister's husband and yer niece's father, Ned Wynyate; that's what ye have. My blood be upo' yer head now that I'm took; and ye shall rue it to yer dying day.' For the other gauger come up just then, and he says Ned did look uncommon took aback when he found out who t'were, and so red i' the face and so crass as nobody mightn't speak to him scarce, after they got away Norton out o' the pit." 66 "And what will they have done with poor father after that?" said Lettice, with much anxiety. They can't take him to gaol, and him with his leg broke like that, surely?" 66 They'll put him away into the prison hospital for to get well afore they tries him, they says; but that'll be all." Twere an ugly trick by one's own kinsman. I could wish as Ned hadn't a done it," said Mrs. Wynyate, in her outspoken way about friend and foe. 66 Poor Ned! I'm sure he must be sorry enough by now," sighed Amyas. 66 "Uncle Amyas, won't you take me to Mapleford to see father?" cried Lettice, tearfully. 66 'Well, I'm sure I thought yon young chap would ha' seen to it, and kep' off his father; he promised so fair," broke out Job, earnestly. "There ain't much rest to be found for them as puts their trust in man," observed Mrs. Wynyate, severely. "I never thought much o' that young Wallcott, or what ye could any way find to see in him, with his hair like a wisp o' hay for colour, and so wishy-washy too after pleasuring and pastimes as a man ought to be ashamed o' wasting his time so," she added, indignantly, looking with a frown at Lettice, who turned away with a flush upon her face. "Why don't I hear from him? Why don't he send a word or a sign?" moaned the poor girl to herself, as she went out into the wood-yard, nominally to search for "He were ever so anxious for to get for- the produce of a wandering laying hen. rard i' the world," moralized Job; and I couldn't do other than I did that time he says, says he, 'I wants to do summat at the Puckspiece, sure he must know that, altogether out o' the common way like; and he all one as if he had my father's and there now he have been and gone and blood upon his hands as it were he must took and done it. Them as is quiet, and know that," she repeated to herself again bides at home, don't get into such scrapes," and again, as she went up and down in the he concluded, with much dignity. bitter wind. The gusts were bringing down the leaves by thousands, and blowing them before her in a wild dance, and all the gorgeous colouring which had so lighted up the world a few days before had now been swept away by the ruthless weather. "He should write," she went on, ' if it were only to say as there's an end o' it all with me; 'twould be no wonder wi' this hanging over father's head I'm sure, on'y what must most like be; but he should make Ned write or something. How shall I iver live on like this, wi'out knowing a bit what he's thinking of or doing; and he can't but tell now what's going on here, with his father putting in for the mort Yes, child, and welcome," answered he. 66 They'll not let thee bide wi' him; but sure 'twill be a comfort to him to see thy face in that sad place. And cousin Susan maybe 'll take us in for a bit. 'Tis a sore time sin' I've been near the old place, and I don't say I shall be glad to see it again," he muttered to himself. They saw and heard nothing of Ned, although the whole Forest rang with his successful capture of the redoubted Red Jack. He was by no means thin-skinned; but it galled him to be everywhere congrat-gage?" ulated on his "unflinching sense of duty," and the ironical compliments of the very revenue officers themselves upon his "public-spirited conduct "towards his own family were not exactly the sort of renown which 66 As she came back into the house she met Amyas and Job in consultation. "I "We'll just have to go over to Mapleford to-morrow, Lettie," said her uncle. must see the lawyers along o' all this mess, and we ought to look us out a counsellor How were I to know the man as I for to defend yer father upo' his trial when hadn't seen since I were a child?" he re-it comes." he desired. "What I want to know is this here," observed Job, with his most solemn nod of the head. "If we hires a lawyer to defend we, who bees to pay he? that's what I'm axing Amyas, I am." "I'm not going to throw good money after bad fighting the mortgage, if ye mean that," replied his brother; "but Norton mustn't be left without help like; we'd cut some trees, only I don't know what's ourn and what ain't now. But we'll sell a cow, or make any shift sooner nor that." "Father's got some money enough for that anyhow, wi'out robbing you, uncle Amyas," cried Lettice eagerly with a blush, feeling secretly for the little bag, from which she never parted company. CHAPTER XXII. IN THE AISLE OF MAPLEFORD MINSTER. "So you're pegging away again," said the old blind man as he assisted at the departure. "Tis a terrible big traveller as you've a got to be, Lettice; better nor fifty mile they says you've a bin already, and here ye are gadding off again!" 66 It ain't gadding, Dannel," replied she sadly-"only to see poor father in prison." "And out o' sight the best place he could be in too," muttered he, "where he can't a do hurt to nobody; that's my way o' thinking." "You'll have a jobbet to get in dry to Mapleford to-day," observed Job, dismally. "Twill be shower off, shower on, till night, I take it." 66 We shan't mind. shall us, Lettice? It won't hurt if the weather is a little lippy," said Amyas with a smile, wrapping a horse-cloth round her as they drove away. "I mustn't lose time seeking for some place for us all to bide in, and I'm hoping something might turn up where we're going, though cousin Susan's give up the tanyard." He spoke so much more cheerfully than usual, that Lettice looked round surprised. In truth, the pain of suspense had been more difficult for him to bear than even the misfortune of leaving the home to which he once clung so fondly; to sit and wait for the knife to fall, without any power of averting it, had taken the pleasure out of every act and every feeling of possession now for so many years, that it was more a relief from a burden than as a loss that the blow fell at last. A shining island of light, where the sun broke through the clouds, lit up the high lawns" (a "lawn" is only unploughed pasture-land) and the steep chalk landslips 66 showing white against the round grassy downs, as they came in sight of Mapleford, sitting in its low valley. Among the flat water meadows which followed the line of the river, and were of a brilliant green even so late in the year, here and there a tall poplar stood out like a spire among the great round-headed elms scattered in the hedge-rows: grey-blues, blue-greens, the harmony of the colouring was extreme. And in the midst stood the stately old Minster, every part of it, from its grey stone tower to its round-headed windows, with their toothed mouldings and mighty buttresses, giving a feeling of its hoar antiquity. Not far from the Cathedral, on the hillside, stood five little square boxes, slated to a point, exactly alike. 66 There, them's what my uncle built just afore he died; and Susan gets a good rent for 'um too," said Amyas, pointing to them with some pride. There are many ways in which Mr. Darwin's " struggle for life" is carried on; and in many things the meanest, shabbiest, and cheapest win the day. In architecture they are, certainly at present, the most successful. Given the smallest quantity of material to cover a certain space- result, red boxes. One has a very keen sense that civilization is by no means all gain, as one looks at the productions of the ages of barbarism, and compares them with those of our own "enlightened time." They crossed the river by a high stone bridge almost as ancient as the Minster; but Mapleford was older than its bridge, as was marked by its name. The town brought together on the "ford" of the "Ox" must have existed before that on the "bridge" of the "Cam." As they drove up the narrow, steep street, Lettice, who had never seen anything more gorgeous than the village shop, was amazed at the magnificence before her. "Look, uncle, at all them beautiful things hanging there! Why, what will they do wi' all those yards upo' yards?" "Well, it do look as if there was napery and drapery enough for to last the county till doomsday," answered he, smiling. "And the picturs! Isn't it wonderful to see the folk all pass by and niver so much as stop to look in; surely, surely! But I shouldn't love to be shut in with walls o' this fashion, and nought but a tiddy bit o' blue sky right atop o' one's head. I hope uncle Amyas won't want to live here," she said sorrowfully to herself. When they drove up to Mrs. Susan's door, her welcome was of the coldest. she said to herself as she looked up and saw a man performing some little work of reparation somewhere up in the skies. The disproportion between the work and "Yes, I can put up yer and Lettie, I dessay, for a day, or maybe two, while you're looking out," said she; "but it's a very trouble thing for one's belongings to be took up like that Norton; so ill-convenient, the worker is nowhere so great. In all as one may say, for to have one's firstcousin's husband maybe hanged or transported. One has no credit for one's kindred so." Poor Lettice winced, coloured, grew pale, and turned away with the tears in her eyes. "Nay, cousin," said Amyas, in a vexed tone, "it won't come so bad as that. And you needn't fear for your good name; you that has married out on it all, and don't belong, nor nothing. Ye'll try sure and have respect before her father's child," he whispered anxiously. buildings raised by man for his own use there is a plain serving of a visible end; but the purely impersonal character of the thought of these nameless architects who built for the glory of God alone, the lavish pouring out of all men's best gifts for what was thought to be His service, is a very grand and touching testimony to the intenseness of the belief in the unseen in those days, which we have not gained by losing. Two old deaf women and a blind man were the paid audience and spectators of the grand choral service sounding to those otherwise empty walls; the sole enjoyers of that great poem written in stone. "Law," said that lady, "if I didn't clean forget all about her! "Tis so long sin' I've a seen any o' ye, that it stands to reason I can't mind how one and another is jined to-ner, while the music seemed to warp and gether." "Well, I must go and see about the lawyer for Norton, and the permit for the girl to see him, and a deal more, let alone my own business," said Amyas, in a hurry to get away. Can't I go with ye, uncle?" said Lettice, anxiously catching at any opening which might save her from being left with her dreaded cousin. She sat down on a bench in a quiet cor whirl her up into a new heaven of sound. "Yer night just go into the Minster, child, if ye like. I mind how oft I used to get into trouble wi' my uncle, looking in at the music. 'Tis nigh the hour o' arternoon service, and 'twill serve to while away the time. I sha'n't be back this ever so long. Ye can find yer own way home by yourself, I'll be bound." And he left her in the Close. All was so silent there that when the shouts of two passing boys were echoed back from the walls of the Cathedral, Lettice could not help wondering at their wick-music. edness: the only sound came from the jackdaws wheeling round the tower, and the rooks cawing in the lofty elms, which yet looked dwarfed by the size of the enormous pile. She opened the little wicket in the south door, and entered under the mighty old grey arches. Many a king and bishop and great chief slept under their quiet aisles; and though Lettice was unconscious even that they ever had existed, there was a sort of solemn rest in the place which soothed and quieted her. The organ was pealing under the majestic vault, poised as it were in the air, arch upon arch rising high up into the heavens. It seemed a strange creation to have been reared by petty creatures like herself, men who " 'looked like flies," "I wonder whether them dead people steps down at night off of their tombstones into the church, and meets together to speak, p'r'aps, o' what they done aforetime in their lives?" thought she. It was a stranger company if they did than she could understand - kings and pious men, light ladies and bishops, holy nuns, soldiers, abbesses, and statesmen mingled together in wonderful confusion. There was one bust which she fixed upon as like the idea of her dead mother, whose presence seemed almost to hover over her. It is strange how there is something so sacred in the very name of a mother that, even where the person has been very indifferent and careless, or even harsh, the relation still remains as a holy memory, as in Lettice's case, and the child, if the loss has she thought to herself, but she did not speak. "I only heard about what he'd done yesterday, and came up here directly, and flung it at him that he'd broke his word with me; and I'm not bound any longer to wait, as I promised. Come off with me somewhere, and let us be married quick. Why should we wait any longer like this? Once it were done, they'd all be quiet enough, and satis There are no such decided measures taken as by a somewhat undecided man— -partly perhaps because he is governed by impulse, and partly because he is very much afraid of being governed by any one else. been in infancy, so as to throw the halo of 66 'Lettice," said he, impatiently, "I saw you passing with your uncle towards the Close, a long way off, and followed after, but the choir door was shut in my face before I could get in; and there I have been trying all this while to make you turn, and you never so much as stirred, sitting there looking so calm and quiet, and I chafing outside. What are you doing here?" he went on, in an aggrieved tone. 66 66 We came part for to see my father, if so be I could," said she, sadly. He's been took, ye know, and has broke his leg, and 66 "Yes, I know," he answered, hurriedly; and then, anxious to get her off the line of thought which the subject led to, A wonderful bad time we had in the Channel t'other night, you may depend on't." 66 You got all safe back?" said she, with a little emphasis on the "all," which he understood, and looked at her suspiciously, not liking the Caleb topic much better than the last. He made a third attempt. "Your uncle's come about the mortgage, I suppose? I wrote you word how that I thought to have stopped all about it with my father, and that he'd promised the matter should lay by," he went on, drawing her arm within his, and hurrying on with her, he did not care where, up into the transept. "Oh, that was the letter as was lost," "But I can't leave 'um all that way; and yer father's quite right, maybe, not to let ye take up with my father's child," said the poor girl, looking up anxiously at him through her gathering tears. "We mustn't go agin him as is, after all, thinking for your good; and, maybe, if we wait patient he may come round after a bit, as ye said; but the other thing we never can undo." "You don't care for me, Lettie," he said, flinging away her hand, but taking it again directly: "you care for some one else; you throw me over when ye are out of sight. Why did ye never answer my letter which I wrote to the Woodhouse so long ago ?" he went on, vehemently. "I've been true to you; I've quarrelled with my father about it all, so that I've scarce been near home all these months, and there you've been forgetting me with strange new people and things. What was that Caleb to you, or you to him, when you were troth-plighted to me?" he said, working himself up into a state of wrathful indignation, with a sort of dim sense that to declare himself wronged, although he could not exactly tell how, gave him a kind of power over her, and kept off the thought of the way in which they had last met, and the reason she had to complain of his attack upon her father. Nothing, nothing; he weren't nothing to me, and never were; how could I ever think o' he? I couldn't help it if he cared for me," cried Lettice, timidly. 66 Well, then, what reason can there be why you shouldn't give consent to marry? "How can I leave uncle Amyas, as has been so good to me, in his trouble?" said the poor girl. "And you know we mustn't do what can't be done openly before God and man." "You'd be doing him most good by marrying me, Lettice; you must see that. 'Twould settle a heap o' things, about money and mortgages and all.” |