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.dt Kitty Alone. (Vol. 3 of 3), by S. Baring Gould
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Transcriber’s Note:
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KITTY ALONE
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MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH
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KITTY ALONE
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A STORY OF THREE FIRES
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BY
S. BARING GOULD
AUTHOR OF
“IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA” “THE QUEEN OF LOVE”
“MEHALAH” “CHEAP JACK ZITA” ETC. ETC.
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In Three Volumes
Vol. III
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METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.
LONDON
1894
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.h2
CONTENTS OF VOL. II
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CHAP. | | PAGE
XXXVII. | THE ANSWER OF CAIN | #7#
XXXVIII.| WANTED AT LAST | #16#
XXXIX. | ONE FOR THEE AND TWO FOR ME | #25#
XL. | A GREAT FEAR | #35#
XLI. | TAKING SHAPE | #45#
XLII. | AN UGLY HINT | #54#
XLIII. | MUCH CRY AND A LITTLE WOOL | #64#
XLIV. | PUDDICOMBE IN F | #74#
XLV. | DAYLIGHT | #82#
XLVI. | A TRIUMPH | #91#
XLVII. | PARTED | #100#
XLVIII. | A SHADOW-SHAPE | #110#
XLIX. | FLAGRANTE DELICTO | #118#
L. | THE THIRD FIRE | #128#
LI. | THE PASS’N’S PRESCRIPTION | #137#
LII. | IN COURT | #145#
LIII. | JASON’S STORY | #156#
LIV. | CON AFFETTUOSO CAPRIZIO | #165#
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KITTY ALONE
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.h2 nobreak
CHAPTER XXXVII | THE ANSWER OF CAIN
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.dc 0.2 0.4
The accommodation of the little inn was not extensive,
so Pasco had to be put into the same room with
the lawyer, and Kitty slept with the innkeeper’s daughter.
Pasco would have greatly preferred a room to himself.
He was in a condition of unrest. As it was not possible
for him to return to Coombe Cellars that night, he was in
ferment of mind, uncertain whether it were advisable that
he should return there that week, whether he should not go
with Mr. Squire to Tavistock to make provision for the
burial of his uncle, and to see after his estate. He had
added crime to crime to save his credit as a man of
substance, and all had been in vain. The succession to
his uncle’s estate supplied him with what he required.
Why had not the old man died a day earlier? Why, but
that fate had impelled him into crime only then to mock
him. If fate could play such malicious tricks with him,
.bn 008.png
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might it not pursue its grim joke further, lift the veil,
disclose what he had done, and just as the property of his
relative came to him, just as the money from the insurance
company was due–strike him down, drive him into penal
servitude, if not send him to the gallows? He tossed on
his bed; he could not sleep.
At one moment he resolved to go with the solicitor to
Tavistock, and remain there till the funeral, or till he
received news of what had taken place at home. But a
devouring desire to know what had happened, what was the
extent of his crime, to know whether Jason had escaped,
whether the fire had been put out, what his wife thought,
what was the general opinion relative to the fire,–all this
drew him homewards.
Moreover, his sprained ankle and arm were painful, and
he could lie on one side only. In the night he put out
his hand for his coat, drew it to him, and groped for the
box of lucifer matches. He desired to light a candle, rise,
and bind a wet towel round his foot.
But the box was missing.
Alarmed, he started from bed and explored the pockets
of his trousers and of his waistcoat, and then again went
through all those of his coat, but in vain. He had lost
the box.
Here was fresh cause for uneasiness. Where had he lost
it? Surely not at Coombe Cellars. With a sigh of relief,
he recalled having struck a light in the linhay in Miller
Ash’s field, and that it had excited the interest of Kate.
He had then slipped it back into his pocket, as he believed.
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In all likelihood it had fallen out when he was thrown from
the cart on the moor.
Towards morning he dropped into broken sleep, from
which he started every few moments in terror, imagining
that a constable was laying hold of him, or that he saw
Jason Quarm leaping upon him enveloped in flames.
When he woke, he saw the lawyer dressing himself and
shaving. His face was lathered about chin and neck
and upper lip. He turned towards Pepperill and said,
“You are a nice fellow to have as a comrade in a
bedroom.”
“Am I? Well, I daresay I am,” answered Pasco, always
prepared for a recognition of his merits.
“I was speaking ironically, man,” said Mr. Squire. “By
George! how you did toss and tumble in the night. If I
had had an uneasy conscience, you would have kept me
awake. What was the matter with you?”
“With me? Nothing. I never slept sounder.”
“Then you must give your wife bad nights at home. I
thought it might have been your spill.”
“Oh yes, to be sure it was that. I suffered in my arm
and foot; and look, I’m all black and yellow this morning.
I shall go back at once to Coombe Cellars.”
“You will? Why, man alive, we want you at Tavistock.
There is your poor uncle’s funeral, you know, to see to. I
say, if we are to travel together, you won’t cry over-much,
will you? I love tears, but in moderation.”
“I must return to the Cellars, if only for an hour. I
wish to tell Zerah’that’s my wife’our piece of good
.bn 010.png
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fortune’I mean, our sad bereavement. And I must put
together my black clothes and get my hat.”
“If it must be, it must. I wish you had been communicated
with earlier.”
“Earlier? Was that possible?”
“Of course it was; the old gentleman died two days
ago.”
“Two days ago? Why, to-day is Wednesday.”
“Well, his decease took place at five in the morning of
Monday.”
“Why did you not tell me at once?” almost shrieked
Pasco, swinging from his bed, and then collapsing on his
crippled foot.
“Bless you, man, it was not my place to do so. I knew
nothing of you; the housekeeper was the person he trusted.
I came to know of it, as I managed your uncle’s affairs.
When I inquired about relatives, then I heard of you, or
rather got your address, and came off. You see, as he died
on Monday, it won’t do for you to be away long. The
housekeeper has instructions, and is a sensible woman, but
you are the proper person to be on the spot.”
“Is she honest? Will she make away with things?”
Mr. Squire shrugged his shoulders.
“I will run to Coombe; we will go in the chaise, and
return to Tavistock directly I have been there. Kitty shall
be driven by the boy to Brimpts in my trap.”
Pasco would not have his niece at Coombe for some
time if he could help it.
As soon as he was dressed he was impatient to be off.
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He hurried breakfast, and hardly ate anything himself. He
gave instructions that Kate was to be sent on at once, and
was not content till he had seen her off. He had not deemed
it prudent to warn her again not to speak of his return to
the Cellars after leaving Coombe. To do so might excite
her suspicions. Besides, she would be at Brimpts, where
there was no one interested in the affairs of Coombe’no
one who belonged to it. It would suffice to caution
her when she came back to the Cellars, and that return he
would delay on one excuse or another.
When Pasco seated himself in the chaise beside the
solicitor, an expression of satisfaction came over his face.
He was returning to Coombe as a man of consequence, and
in good society. How the villagers would stare to see him
in a carriage drawn by post-horses. An April weather
reigned in his heart, now darkening with apprehension,
then brightening with pride and self-satisfaction.
Ever and anon the ghastly figure of his brother-in-law in
the sack, burning, rose before his mind’s eye, but he put it
from him.
As the chaise entered Ashburton, Pepperill said to his
companion’“Will you accommodate me with a sum of
money till I come in for my inheritance?”
“With the greatest pleasure, but I have not much loose
cash about me.”
“You have your cheque-book. The circumstances are
these’I owe money for wool to a fellow named Coaker,
and gave him a bill’unfortunately, I could not meet it, the
bank returned it, only a few days ago, and this has made
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me very angry. I should like to show the bank and Coaker
that I am not the moneyless chap that they choose to
consider me.”
“I shall be happy to assist you. Let us go to the bank
at once; I’ll settle that little matter with them. Shall I do
it for you?”
“I shall be obliged, but I think I must go also.”
It was possible that the tidings of what had taken place
might have reached Ashburton’possible, though hardly
probable.
His uneasiness was relieved when he entered the bank.
No allusion was made to any fire. The banker was profuse
in his apologies. He could not help himself. There were
certain rules in his affairs that he was bound to follow. He
had no doubt it was an oversight of Mr. Pepperill not to
pay in the sum required, but a man so full of business as
he was reputed to be was liable to such slips of memory.
The banker knew Mr. Squire by reputation, was quite sure
all was as it should be. He would at once communicate
with Coaker’indeed, Coaker was sure to be in Ashburton
that day, and let him have the money of the bill.
For some distance Pasco held up his head, and talked
boastfully. He had taught that banker what he really was.
Everyone else knew he was a man of his word and a man
of substance. The solicitor was glad of this change in his
companion’s mood, and talked chirpily.
But the change in Pepperill’s manner did not last long.
As he neared Newton, he leaned back in the carriage. He
did not desire to be recognised and saluted with the news
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of the fire. The chaise drew up for the horses to be
watered at the inn which had been rebuilt after a fire.
“Will you have a drop of something?” asked the solicitor.
“I shall descend for a minute. I suppose we have not got
far to go now?”
He left the chaise, and left the door open. Pasco closed
it, and being affected with sneezing, opened his pocket-handkerchief
and buried his face in the napkin, as the
landlord came to the door.
He did not lower the kerchief, he listened from behind
it to the host conversing with Mr. Squire.
“Fine morning, sir’come from far?”
“No, nothing very great to-day. Off the moor and
through Ashburton.”
“Going on to Teignmouth, sir?”
“No, only to a place called Coombe.”
“Coombe-in-Teignhead? You haven’t many miles
more. Nice place. Just heard there has been a fire there.”
“Indeed. Insured?”
“Can’t say, sir. My little place was burnt down. A
tramp slept in the tallat over the pigs and set it ablaze with
his pipe. Happily, I was insured, and now I have a very
respectable house over my head. What will you please to
take, sir?”
“Some rum and milk, I think.”
Then Mr. Squire and the landlord went within, and
Pasco lowered his kerchief. He wished he had heard more’that
the man had entered into particulars, and yet he
dared not inquire.
.bn 014.png
.pn +1
Presently the lawyer stepped into the carriage. The
host attended him, and in shutting the door, caught sight
of Pasco.
“Halloo!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Pepperill, have you
heard the news?”
“News’what news?”
“Why, rather bad for you. There’s been a terrible fire
at your place.”
“The house?”
“I really don’t know particulars. They say it’s been
dreadful. I’m sorry to have to say it, but I hope there’s no
lives lost, and that you are insured.”
“Drive on!” shouted Pasco to the postilion. “Drive
on’lose no time. There is a fire at my house.”
The horses whirled away, and Pasco no longer disguised
his nervousness. It was natural that he should be uneasy.
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” said Mr. Squire. “If
lives had been lost you would have heard, and if you are
insured to full value, well”’
On reaching the summit of the hill whence Coombe was
visible, a sickly scented smoke was wafted into the carriage
windows.
“By George, I can smell it!” exclaimed the solicitor.
“It is a sort of concentrated essence of burnt wool.”
“Then my stores are gone!” cried Pepperill. “And all
the fleeces for which I have just borrowed two hundred
pounds of you to pay’all lost. I’m a ruined man.”
“Not a bit,” answered the lawyer. “You are insured.”
The postilion needed no urging; he cracked his whip,
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and the horses flew down hill, the chaise rattled through
the village, past the church and the inn, whence the host
came out to see whether a distinguished guest was coming,
and drew up at the entrance to the paddock before the
Cellars.
A crowd of villagers, men, women, and children, was
assembled round the wreck of the storehouse, from which
volumes of smoke still ascended. Every now and then
stones and bricks exploded, and the children shouted or
screamed if a hot cinder flew out and fell near them.
Pasco burst out of the carriage and rushed towards his
house, pushed his way through the assembled crowd, and
ran to his door.
There stood Zerah, ghastly in her pallor, her usually well-ordered
hair dishevelled, with clenched hands held to her
breast, a look of despair in her face. Directly she saw her
husband, she shrank from him, and when he put out his
hands to her, she thrust him away, with an expression of
horror.
“I will not be touched by you,” she said hoarsely.
“Where is Jason?”
“Jason? Am I his keeper?”
“The answer of Cain,” retorted Zerah. “This is your
doing. I knew it would come, when you insured. And
you have destroyed my brother also. O my God! my
God! Would that I had never seen this day!”
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.h2
CHAPTER XXXVIII | WANTED AT LAST
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.dc 0.4 0.4
Pasco thrust his wife within and shut the door behind.
Zerah had returned early in the morning, and had
found that her husband and Kate were away, and the house
locked, whilst the stores were in conflagration. Half the
parish was present. The fire had broken out some time
after nightfall’at least, it had been observed about nine
o’clock by a boy connected with the mill, who ran to the
alehouse and roused the village orchestra, which was
practising there, and in ten minutes nearly everyone in the
little place was at the Cellars. The fire was pouring in
dense sheets of flame out of the windows. It had apparently
begun below, the wool above dropped into it as the rafters
and boards gave way. Nothing could be done to arrest it,
but precautions were adopted to prevent the fire communicating
with a little rick of straw that Pepperill had for litter
near the stables. The flames and smoke were carried
inland, and no apprehensions were entertained of the house
becoming ignited.
Much comment was made on the absence of Pasco, his
wife, and niece. But that which excited most uneasiness
.bn 017.png
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was the presence of Jason Quarm’s cart and donkey in the
yard. If they were at the Cellars, then Jason could not be
far distant. Was it possible that, finding the house locked
up, and his relatives absent, he had made his way into the
store-shed and perished there? This was the question hotly
debated.
When Mrs. Pepperill arrived from the other side of the
river, and saw the conflagration, and heard that there was a
probability that her brother had fallen a victim, she was
driven frantic with terror and grief. In her mind connecting
her husband with the occurrence, she charged him with the
firing of the stores and with the death of her brother.
Pepperill endeavoured to pacify her. He protested his
innocence; he declared that he had left the house soon
after herself, and by entreaty, remonstrance, and threat
urged Zerah to hold her tongue and not recklessly put him
in peril by rousing against him suspicion which was without
grounds.
As to Jason, he knew nothing about him. He had
probably left his trap at the Cellars and crossed the water
on some business of his own. He would return shortly.
The fact of his cart and ass being there was not sufficient
to cause alarm for his safety. If anything transpired more
grave, Pasco would be the first to take the necessary steps
to investigate what had become of him. Meanwhile, let
Zerah moderate her transports and listen to the news he had
to tell. He must leave her, and that immediately, to go
with the lawyer to Tavistock, and make provision for his
uncle’s interment and for securing his property.
.bn 018.png
.pn +1
Pepperill was unable to get away as soon as he wished.
He was forced to show himself among the crowd, to give
expression to consternation, to answer questions as to his
surmises about the origin of the fire, to explain how he had
left the place before it broke out, and to offer suggestions as
to the whereabouts of Quarm. He scouted the idea of his
brother-in-law having been burnt in the stores; he said he
suspected the fellow Redmore of having set fire to his
buildings. Redmore was at large still; he, Pasco, had given
him occasion of resentment by sending the workmen at
Brimpts in pursuit of him. The man was a bitter hater
and revengeful, as was proved by his having burned the
stack of Farmer Pooke. What more likely than that he
had paid off his grudge against himself’Pepperill’in like
manner?
As soon as ever Pasco was able to disengage himself from
the crowd, he re-entered the chaise and departed with the
lawyer, glad to escape the scene. When the chaise had
got outside Coombe, he leaned back with a puff of relief and
said, “That is now well over.”
“I should hardly say that,” observed the lawyer, “till
you have the insurance money clinking in your pocket.
Now look here, Mr. Pepperill; it may be you will have a
hitch about the same. If so, apply to me.”
Among those looking on upon the mass of glowing,
spluttering combustible material was the rector, with his
hands behind him, and his hat at the back of his head.
He was touched on the arm, and, turning, saw the pretty
face of Rose Ash looking entreatingly towards him.
“What is it, my child?”
.bn 019.png
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“Please, sir, do you think anything dreadful has happened
to Kitty’s father?”
The rector paused before he answered. Then he said
leisurely, “I do not know what reply to make. I saw him
last night about seven. I was at my garden-gate when he
drove by, and we exchanged salutations.”
“The neddy is in the stable here, and there is his cart,”
said Rose.
“He may have crossed the water.”
“But, sir, Mrs. Pepperill had the boat.”
“True’is there no other?”
“Yes; the old boat. I did not think of that. I’ll run
and see if her be in place.”
Rose left, and returned shortly, discouraged, and
said’
“The old boat be moored to the landing-stage as well as
the new boat. And, sir, I do not think he could have got
across the water after seven by any boat. The tide was out.
By nine, when it was flowing, the people were running about
here because of the fire.”
“I will go and see Mrs. Pepperill.”
“May I come with you, sir? Kitty is my very dear
friend.”
“Kitty?’I thought she had no friends?”
“It is only quite lately we have become friends. I
would do anything for her. I am not happy. I think she
ought to know what has taken place, and yet I wouldn’t
frighten and make her miserable without reason. That is
why I so much wish to know what is really thought about
.bn 020.png
.pn +1
poor Mr. Quarm. It would be too dreadful if he had come
by his end here, and it will break Kitty’s heart.”
“You shall come with me, certainly, Rose.”
On entering the house, they found Mrs. Pepperill moving
restlessly about the kitchen. Her mood had gone through
a change since the visit of her husband. The wildness of
her first terror and grief had passed away, and given place
to great nervous unrest. She had smoothed her hair as
well as she could with her trembling fingers; her lips
quivered, her eye was unsteady, and she could not remain
in one posture or in one place for more than half a minute.
She had hitherto appeared a hard, iron-natured woman
without sympathy, but now the shock had completely
broken her down. She had rushed to the conclusion that
her husband had deliberately set fire to his warehouse, and
without scruple had sacrificed her brother. The horror of
the death Jason had undergone, and the greater horror to
her of the thought that this was the callous act of her own
husband, had shaken the woman out of all her self-restraint
and rigidity of nerve. She was morally as well as physically
broken down. A woman stern, uncompromising, strictly
honest and upright, harsh and unpitying in her severity,
she found herself involved in a terrible crime that touched
her in the most sensitive part. It was the conceit mingled
with stupidity in Pasco, his recklessness in speculation, and
his obstinacy in refusing to listen to her voice, which had
hardened and embittered the woman.
Something he had said, something in his manner, had led
her to fear he contemplated an escape from his difficulties
.bn 021.png
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by dishonest means, and it was to avert the necessity of his
having recourse to these that she had produced her little
store, the savings of many years. When she returned from
Teignmouth to find that her husband, notwithstanding, had
carried out his purpose, and in doing so had swept her
own brother out of his path’then all her fortitude gave
way.
After the first paroxysm of resentment and despair had
passed, she felt the need of using self-control, and of concealing
what she thought, of endeavouring to avert suspicion
from falling on Pasco. Now also, for the first time in her
life, did this stern woman crave for sympathy, and her
heart turned at once instinctively to the girl she had
disregarded and despised. Dimly she had perceived,
though she had never allowed it to herself, that there was
a something in her niece of a strong, noble, and superior
nature to her own. And in this moment of terrible
prostration of her self-respect and weakness of nerve, her
heart cried out with almost ravenous impatience for Kate.
To Kitty alone could she speak her mind, in Kitty’s breast
alone find sympathy.
When, therefore, the door opened and the rector entered
with a girl at his side, her eyes, dazzled by the sunlight
behind them, unable to distinguish at the moment through
the haze of tears that formed and dried in her eyes, she
cried out hoarsely’
“It is Kitty! I want you, Kitty!”
“I am not Kitty,” said Rose. “I am only her dear
friend. If you want Kitty, I will fetch her.”
.bn 022.png
.pn +1
“I do want her. I must have her,” said Zerah vehemently.
“I have no one. My brother is dead, my husband is gone.
My Kitty’where is she? I do not know if it is true that
she is on the moor. She may be burning yonder, along wi’
her father.”
The woman threw herself into the settle, and burst into
a convulsion of tears.
Mr. Fielding spoke words intended to console her. She
must not rush to a conclusion so dreadful without sufficient
cause; it was possible enough that in the course of the day
something might transpire which would give them reason to
believe that Mr. Quarm was safe. Then, to divert her mind
from this point to one less distressing, as he thought, he
inquired whether she had any idea as to how the fire had
originated.
He could hardly have asked a question more calculated
to agitate her. Zerah sprang from the settle, walked
hurriedly about the room, hiding her eyes with her hand,
and crying’
“I know nothing. I cannot think. I want Kitty.”
Then Mr. Fielding put forth his arm, stayed her, and
said’
“Mrs. Pepperill, remember, however dear to you your
brother may be, he must be dearer to Kitty, as he is her
father. You are advanced in life, have had your losses and
sorrows, and have acquired a certain power to sustain a loss
and command sorrow, but Kitty’s is a fresh young heart,
that has never known the cutting blows to which yours has
been subjected. Spare her what may be unnecessary. Let
.bn 023.png
.pn +1
us wait over to-day, and if nothing happens to relieve our
minds of the terrible fear that clouds them, we will send to
Dart-meet for the child. Indeed, she must be brought here’if
our fears receive confirmation. All I ask is, spare her
what, please God, is an unnecessary agony.”
Then Rose Ash came up close to the bewildered woman.
“Mrs. Pepperill, I will go after Kitty, I promise you, if
you will wait over to-day. I am Kitty’s friend, as I was
once the friend of your Wilmot, and if you will suffer me, I
will remain in the house with you, to relieve you, all day,
and do what work you desire.”
“No, no!” gasped Zerah; “I must be alone. I will have
no one here but Kitty.”
“You consent to the delay?”
The woman did not refuse; she shook herself free from
Rose and the rector, retreated to the window, and cast herself
on the bench in it, and cried and moaned in her hands
held over her face.
When Rose proposed to Mrs. Pepperill that she should
go to Brimpts to fetch Kate, a scheme had formed itself in
her brain. She would ask Jan Pooke to drive her. At the
time of our story two-wheeled conveyances, gigs, buggies,
tax-carts, were kept only by the well-to-do, and there were
but three in all Coombe’the parson’s trap, and those of
Pasco Pepperill and yeoman Pooke. Her own father, the
miller, though a man of substance, had not taken the step
of providing himself with a trap; to have done so would
have been esteemed in the parish an assertion of wealth and
importance that would have provoked animadversion, and
.bn 024.png
.pn +1
might have hurt his trade. The miller is ever regarded
with mistrust. His fist is said to be too much in the meal-sack,
and had he dared to start a two-wheeled conveyance,
it would at once have been declared that it was maintained,
as well as purchased, at the expense of those who sent their
corn to be ground at his mill.
But now that Rose considered her scheme at leisure, it
did not smile on her as at first. At the moment she proposed
it, the prospect of a long drive by Jan’s side, of union
in sympathy for Kitty, had promised something. Now that
she reviewed her plan, she foresaw that it might be disastrous.
Kate, when she heard the tidings of the fire and the news
of the disappearance of her father, would be thrown into
great distress, and a distressed damsel is proverbially irresistible
to a swain. It might undo all that Kate had done,
make Jan more enamoured than ever, and he as a comforter
might gain what he had failed to win when he
approached as a lover. Rose was a good-hearted, if a
somewhat wayward girl. She desired to do a kind thing to
Kitty, but not at such a cost to herself.
She turned the matter over in her head, and finally
reached a compromise. She would ask Jan to drive her to
Brimpts so as to fetch Kate, but lay the injunction on him,
for Kitty’s sake, not to say a word relative to the loss of her
father. Grieved Kate would be to hear of the burning of
the storehouse, but not heart-broken. The consumption of
so much coal would not extort tears. A sorrowful girl is
only interesting’a heart-broken one is irresistible.
.bn 025.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
XXXIX | ONE FOR THEE AND TWO FOR ME
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
Rose and Ja by side in the trap that
belonged to the Pookes. In his good-nature and
readiness to do whatever was kind, Jan had promptly
acceded to Rose’s request that he should help her to
bring Kitty home. It was not right, she said, that the
child should be left on the moor, when her father was dead,
and her aunt in despair.
“You know, Jan,” she said, pressing against the driver’s
side, and speaking low and confidentially, “I am dear
Kitty’s very, very best friend,’I may say, her only real
friend,’and have to fight her battles like a Turk.”
“I did not know that,” observed Jan in surprise, ill-disguised,
for his mind ran to the incidents of the Ashburton
fair.
“You boys don’t know everything. I love Kitty dearly,
and I believe she loves me. We have no secrets from each
other, and now that she is in trouble, my heart flies out to
she, and I want to be with her, and break the news to her
very, very gently.”
“I thought”’began Jan, then paused.
.bn 026.png
.pn +1
Rose looked up in his dull, kindly face, and said roguishly,
“Oh, Jan, a penny for your thoughts. No, really; I will
give half a crown’a thought with you must be so precious,
because so rare.”
A little nettled, Jan said, “I thought this, Rose: from
your treatment of Kate the other day at the fair, that you
were her enemy rather than her friend.”
“That is because you are an old buffle-head. Of course
we are bosom friends, but I’m full of fun, and we tease one
another’we girls’just as kids gambol. You are so heavy
and solemn and dull, you don’t understand our gambols.
You are like a great ox looking on at kids and lambs, and
wondering what it all means when they frisk, and you take
it for solemn earnest.”
“But about the quarrel at the stall’the kerchief?”
“That was play.”
“And the workbox that Noah knocked from under her
arm? Was that play?”
“Purely. Jan, I had a much better workbox which I
wanted to give Kate, and you went and spoiled my
purpose by giving her that trumpery affair. I am not
ashamed to own it. I told Noah to strike it from under
her arm, that I might give her the box I had put aside for
her.”
“And she has it?”
“Yes; oh dear, yes!’of course she has it.”
Jan shook his head; he was puzzled, but supposed all
was right’supposed, because he was too straightforward
and good-hearted to mistrust the girl who spoke so frankly,
.bn 027.png
.pn +1
with great eyes looking him full in the face, and smiling.
Impudence is more convincing than innocence.
Then Rose said, “How good you are, Jan’how
tremendously good! Really, it is a privilege to live in
the same parish, and drive in the same buggy beside so
excellent a Christian.”
“What are you at now?” was Jan’s outspoken response.
“I mean what I say, Jan. Considering how you’ve been
treated, I declare that by your conduct you do a lot more
good to me than any number of sermons.”
“How so? You are making game of me.”
“Not a bit; I’m serious. How is it you show your goodness?
Why, by driving me to Brimpts.”
“Oh, I have nothing else to do, and I like a drive.”
“With me?’or perhaps I just spoil the pleasure,”
Rose asked, with a roguish look out of the corners of her
eyes.
The young yeoman was unaccustomed to making gallant
speeches, and he let slip the opportunity thus adroitly offered
him. Rose curled her lip, as he replied’
“It is always pleasanter to have someone to talk to than
to be alone, especially for a long drive.”
“But it is so good, so very good of you to fetch her.”
“Why should I be such a churl as not to go when
asked?”
“After what has occurred, you know. What a fellow you
are! In the orchard, you know.”
Pooke turned blood-red. A fly was tickling him; he
raised the butt-end of his whip and rubbed his nose with it.
.bn 028.png
.pn +1
“Get along, Tucker!” he shouted. Tucker was the
horse.
“I hope I shall profit better from your example than I
have from all the parson’s sermons,” pursued Rose.
“What are you at?” asked Pooke uneasily, conscious
that some ulterior end was in his companion’s view, as she
thus lavished encomiums on him, and then dug into his
nerves a needlepoint of sharp remark.
“What am I at? Oh, Jan! nothing at all, but sitting
here with my hands in my lap, so happy to have a drive’and
in such excellent company’company so good.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“It is not every man would lend his cart, nay, drive
himself, to do a favour to a girl who had treated him
outrageously.”
“When did you treat me so?”
“I’oh, Jan’not I! I could not have done that. A
thousand times no”’ Rose spoke in pretty agitation, and
fluttered at his side. “I mean Kitty.”
“Kitty? Get along, Tucker!’it’s no use your trying to
scratch yourself with your hind hoof, and run at the same
time.” He addressed the horse, which was executing
awkward gymnastics. “Excuse me, Rose; I must dismount.
There is a briar stinging Tucker.”
Jan drew up, descended, and slapped with his open
hand where a horse-fly was engaged sucking blood. The
fly was too wide awake to be killed; it rose, and sailed
away. Then young Pooke mounted again.
“Get along, Tucker!” he said, and applied the whip.
.bn 029.png
.pn +1
“I mean,” pursued Rose, as if there had ensued no
interruption. “I mean, after you had been treated so
shamefully.”
“I didn’t know it.”
“Really, Jan! Everyone knows that Kitty refused you.
It is the village talk, and everyone says it was scandalous.”
“Drat it! there is that fly again at Tucker.”
“Oh, if you can think of nothing but Tucker, I’ll be
silent.”
“Don’t be cross, Rose, I must consider Tucker, as I am
driver. There might be accidents.”
“Not for the world. Of course you must consider
Tucker, and poor little I must be content to come into
your mind in the loops and gaps not took up by the
horse and the gadfly.”
“What do you suppose Tucker cost father?” asked
Pooke, clumsily endeavouring to change the topic.
“I really don’t know.”
“Eight pounds, and he is worth twenty. That was a
piece of luck for father.”
“Luck comes to those who desarve it,” said Rose. “I
am not surprised at you and your family being prosperous
in all you undertake. There’s no knowing, Jan,”’she spoke
solemnly,’“you may feel low and discouraged at being,
so to speak, kicked over the orchard hedge by Kate, but
it may be a blessing in disguise, who can tell? but Providence
may have in view someone for you much better
suited’much in every way, than Kitty.”
“Drat it! there is that fly again.”
.bn 030.png
.pn +1
“Mr. Puddicombe’what a good soul he is!’has been
about the place spreading the news.”
“What news?”
“About Kitty and the schoolmaster.”
“Kitty and the schoolmaster?” echoed Pooke. His brows
went up, his jaw dropped, and his cheek became mottled.
“Haven’t you heard? Why, poor dear Jan, she went
helter-skelter away from the orchard where she had
trampled on you to fling herself into the arms of Mr.
Thingamy-jig. I cannot tell his name’I mean the new
schoolmaster.”
“How do you know?”
“Of course I know. Mr. Puddicombe is brimming
with the news. They went like a pair of turtle-doves
cooing and billing to Mr. Puddicombe, and he has
nearly run his legs down to stumps since. The schoolmaster”’
“But I don’t mean about the schoolmaster.” Pooke
spoke with a tremble in his voice.
“Oh! about that affair, that comical affair in the
orchard? Half the village, I reckon, was out behind the
hedges looking and listening. There was Betsy Baker,
and there was Jenny Jones, and that sprig of a chap,
Tommy Croft’I won’t be sure they heard, but I fancy
so’anyhow, everyone has been talking of it, and pitying
you that you were made ridiculous; and then to go off,
right on end, and accept a schoolmaster.” In a tone of
infinite contempt, Rose added, “A schoolmaster! It
takes ten tailors to make a man, and ten schoolmasters
.bn 031.png
.pn +1
to make a tailor; Puddicombe excepted’that was a man,
and was so highly respected, he knew how to make himself
looked up to, and folk forgave him his profession for his
own sake. But this new whipper-snapper! And to be
rejected for him!”
Jan Pooke writhed. He had not heard the news of
Kate’s engagement. Somehow it had been kept from, or
had not reached, him. The fire had distracted men’s and
women’s thoughts from the affairs of Kate, Bramber, and
himself. His colour changed, and he flushed purple. He
shared the prejudice entertained by farmers and labourers’by
all who were semi-educated and wholly uneducated’for
the man of culture that was striving to enlighten dull
minds and wake torpid intelligences. Parsons and schoolmasters
are in the same category. The heavy soul resents
being raised to spiritual life, and the heavy mind
resents being wakened to intellectual life. It ever will
be so, and it ever has been so. A man going along a road
found a sodden toper lying in a ditch. He tried to pull
him out. “Leave alone!” roared the drunken man. “I
likes it, I enjoys it. I’ll knock you down if you don’t let
me lie in my ditch. There are effets there, and slugs
there, and frogs and toads; get along your own way and
leave me where I am.”
Pooke and Rose Ash had imbibed the views of their
parents and companions, and the prevailing atmosphere in
a country parish. They had not risen above it, and their
ideas took colour from it.
“It was scandalous conduct, was it not, Jan?” asked
.bn 032.png
.pn +1
Rose. “If I were you, I wouldn’t stand it, not half an
hour.”
“But what can I do?”
“What’? do’? Oh, lots!”
“I can do lots. I do not see it. If Kitty chooses”’His
lips quivered, and he gulped down something.
“If Kitty chooses a beggarly schoolmaster instead of
you, you must not let the neighbours see you are crestfallen.
It will never do in coming out of church for
everyone to point at you and say, ‘Poor chap! There he
goes, Jan Pooke, whom Kitty Alone would not have; and
here comes Mr. Thingamy-jig, whom she prefers so highly,
looking like the cock of the walk.’ It would be very
shaming, Jan, and I don’t think your dear father would
like it terrible much.”
“I can do nothing,” said Jan, looking wistfully at the
horse’s ears: “if Kitty likes Mr. Bramber, and don’t care
for me.”
“And if the story of the silver peninks gets about?”
“Don’t, Rose!” His face expressed pain.
“I don’t wish to hurt you, I wish you well, Jan, you know.
I was anxious that you should not be the laughing-stock
of Coombe and the neighbourhood. That would be too
dreadful. I have such a regard for you. Mind you, I
love dear Kitty, but I cannot blind my eyes that her has
made a mistake’a happy mistake for you, because, dear,
good girl as she is, I do not think that she could ha’
made you happy.”
“Why not?”
.bn 033.png
.pn +1
“She would have been eternally axin’ questions which
you could never answer.”
“There is something in that.”
“She’d have been wanting to take you to the bottoms
of wells, you know, so as to see the stars by day. You would
not like that, Jan?”
“No’there is something in that.”
“And to make you read that stupid book’Wordsworth,
her calls it’in the evening, whilst she knitted. You
couldn’t have stood that, Jan?”
“Horrible!’I should ha’ died.”
“Then you may rejoice that Providence has ordained
that she should go after the schoolmaster. Now you must
look out and see what step you can take to recover the
respect of the parish.”
“How can I do that?”
“Oh, there be more fishes in the sea than come out
of it, I reckon.”
Jan remained in meditation, speechless. Rose pressed
close to his side.
“Have you no room?” he asked.
“Oh, ’tisn’t that altogether; my feelings overcame me.
I do so, so pity you, you dear, poor Jan.”
Presently, as he continued silent, she said, “If I were
you, when shortly you meet Kitty, and when she will
be in my place at your side, and I ride behind, I would
not look like an apple that has gone under the rollers, nor
hang my ears like a whipped dog, but laugh and joke and
whistle and be jolly, you know.”
.bn 034.png
.pn +1
“That don’t seem right, with her father burned to
death.”
“She knows nothing of that, and is to know nothing
of it from us. The proper person to tell her is Mrs.
Pepperill. So mind, Jan, not a word about Mr. Quarm.
Understand, not a word. So look cheerful and whistle.”
“What shall I whistle? Jackson’s ‘Tee-dum’?”
“Of course not, something lively. The ‘Green
Bushes.’”
“Why the ‘Green Bushes’?”
“Oh, silly Jan!” Then she began to sing’
.pm start_poem
“’The old lover arrived, the maiden was gone;
He sighed very deeply, he stood all alone,
“She is on with another, before off with me,
So adieu ye green bushes for ever!” said he.‘
.pm end_poem
“Green bushes’that is the orchard, Jan, where grow the
silver peninks.”
“Drat that fly!” exclaimed Jan, flicking with his whip.
“Her’s at it again.”
.bn 035.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XL | A GREAT FEAR
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
Kate was among the felled timber at Brimpts, skipping
about the logs, stooping, then rising again,
and withal singing merrily, when Jan and Rose, having
put up the horse at Dart-meet, came up the valley to join
her.
The peeled trunks lay white as bones on the surface of
the moor, and a fresh and stimulating odour was exhaled
from them. The bark was piled up in stacks at intervals.
The whortleberry was flowering in the spring sun. The
heather was still dead. Horns of ferns, brown, and curled
like pastoral staves, stood up between the trunks.
After the first greetings had been exchanged, Rose
asked Kitty, “What in the world are you doing here’bobbing
about? In search of long cripples (vipers)?”
“No; I do not want them. I have started some
basking in the hot sun, but they slip away at once and do
no harm. I am counting the rings on the trees.”
“What for?”
“To learn their age.”
“Who cares how old the trees are?”
.bn 036.png
.pn +1
“I do; and thus one can find out in what years
the trees grew fast, and which summers were wet and
cold.”
“Really, Kitty, you are going silly.”
“It is interesting,” pursued Kate; “and then, Rose,
I do not altogether believe in the rings telling the age
truly. I think the oaks are much older than they pretend
to be.”
“Like old maids?” suggested Rose.
“Yes, Rose; after a certain age they cease to grow’cease
to swell, they just live on as they were, or go back
in their hearts, then they make no rings. The rings tell
you for how many years they went on expanding, but say
nothing about those when they were at a standstill. Then,
look here: the rings are on one side much thicker than on
the other, and that is because of a cold and stormy wind.
They thicken their bark against the wind, just as I might
put on a shawl.”
“Oh,’by the way’touching a shawl”’
But Kate was too eager and interested in her subject
to bear interruption.
“I have the oddest and most wonderful thing to show
you, Rose. You do not care about the rings, but this you
will be truly pleased to see.”
“What is that?”
“Follow me.”
Kate skipped among the prostrate oaks till she reached
one large trunk. As she skipped, she sang merrily’
.pm start_poem
“’All in the wood there grew a fine tree.‘”
.pm end_poem
.bn 037.png
.pn +1
“What song is that, Kate?” asked Rose.
“It is one that the head woodcutter taught me.
.pm start_poem
’All in the wood there grew a fine tree,
The finest tree that ever you might see,
And the green leaves flourished around.‘
.pm end_poem
.ti 0
All on this tree there grew a fine bough, and all on this
bough there grew a fine twig. Then it goes on to tell how
on this twig there was a fine nest, and how in this nest
there was a fine bird, the finest bird that ever you did see;
and on this bird there grew a fine feather, and out of the
feather was made a fine bed, and on this fine bed was laid
a fine babe, and out of the babe there grew a fine man,
and the man put an acorn into the earth, and out of the
acorn there grew a fine tree, and the tree was of the acorn,
and the acorn of the man, and the man was from the babe,
and the babe was on the bed, and the bed was of the
feather, and the feather of the bird, and the bird was in
the nest, and the nest was on the twig, and the twig was
on the bough, and the bough was on the tree, and the tree
was in the wood.
.pm start_poem
’And the green leaves flourished around’around’around,
And the green leaves flourished around.‘”
.pm end_poem
“What nonsense, Kate!”
“It is not nonsense. There is a great deal in it. The
song goes on without an end, always the same; just as at
the end of the psalm, ’As it was in the beginning, is now,
and ever shall be.‘ See!’this is what I have to show
you.”
She pointed to some lettering that ran round the white
.bn 038.png
.pn +1
peeled trunk, brown as coffee; somewhat large and strained
the characters seemed, and Rose was not able to decipher
them, but she said’
“However came letters to be there, under the bark?”
“That is the great curiosity,” answered Kate. “Someone
cut them in the bark with his knife when the tree was
young, two hundred years ago. The tree has grown big
since then, and has healed up its wounds, but still bears
the scars; and it has drawn its bark round it, and for
years upon years has hidden what was written from the
eyes of man. Only now that the dear old oak is hewn
down, and the bark stripped away, is the writing revealed
which was cut on it two hundred years ago.”
“What are the words?”
“Listen’I have spelled them out.
.nf c
’O Tree defying Time
Witness bear
That two loving Hearts
1643
Did meet here.‘
.nf-
.il fn=038.jpg w=175px ew=20% alt='hearts'
.ti 0
Is not this wonderful? The tree was trusted, and it has
fulfilled its trust, and would have done so till it died. Two
hundred years ago, two young lovers met here, and the
youth cut this on the bark. Two hundred years after, it
gives up its witness. If it had not been cut down, two
hundred years hence it would have done the same.”
.bn 039.png
.pn +1
Rose looked at Jan, and took his hand and sighed.
“Jan, let us sit down on this tree. This touches me;
does it not you, Jan?”
“What’your hand?”
“No, silly; I mean this about the lovers.”
Then Kate began to sing’
.pm start_poem
“‘All in the wood there grew a fine tree,
The finest tree that ever you did see,
And the green leaves flourished around.’”
.pm end_poem
Then Kate said, clapping her hands’
“Is there not a great deal in that song of the tree in
the wood? I suppose in paradise that Adam stood by the
tree of life and felt happy when he held Eve by the hand
and looked into her eyes. If he could have written, he
would have cut these same words in the bark of the tree
of life. And years went by, and it was always and ever the
same story: the young grew old, and then others came in
their places, and loving hearts met, and again and again
in an endless whirl, and an ever-returning tide, and a
perpetual circling of the stars in heaven, and the new
flowers coming after the old have died’‘As it was in the
beginning, is now, and ever shall be.’”
Then Jan started up, drew his hand from Rose, and
said’
“We have come for you, Kitty. As soon as the horse
has had a feed, we must be off.”
“Is there such a terrible hurry?” asked Rose with a
tone of reproach in her voice.
“We have no time to lose.”
.bn 040.png
.pn +1
“Lose, Jan?”
“To waste, I mean.”
“Waste, Jan?”
“I mean’bother it!’we must be off as soon as the
horse is a bit rested. We have a long journey to take, up
and down, and little trotting ground. We have come for
Kitty. You must return with us,” looking at Kate. “There
has been something”’
“Let me speak,” interrupted Rose, afraid lest Pooke
should let out too much. “Kitty, your uncle and aunt
have met with a great loss. The stores have been burnt,
and Mrs. Zerah does nothing but sob and cry after you.”
“Auntie cry for me?”
“Yes. She will not be at rest till you return.”
“I’ll go at once,” said Kate, flushing with pleasure.
“When did this happen?”
“Tuesday night.”
“That is the night we came here. Is my father at the
Cellars?”
“I have not seen him. Now, Jan”’Pooke was about
to speak. Rose stopped his mouth. “Leave me to speak.
You are a blunderer.”
“But I know he passed us going to Coombe,” said Kate.
“Passed you’where?”
“On the hill. We were in the linhay.”
Rose held out a shawl.
“Kitty, is this yours?”
“Yes; it is. I lost it on my way here. Where did you
find it?”
.bn 041.png
.pn +1
“In the linhay in Furze Park. I went there with our cow,
Buttercup. The calf is taken from her. There I found it.”
“We turned into the field, and I remained a long time
in the linhay,” said Kate.
“And your uncle?”
“Oh, he went back to the Cellars.”
“What, by the road?”
“No; by the waterside. I was tired, and the time was
long, or I thought it was; so I folded my shawl to keep
the prickles from my head,’there is so much furze there,’and
I lay down and slept.”
“I found this also,” said Rose, extending a match-box.
“I don’t understand what it is.”
“It is a lucifer-box. My uncle had it. He pulled a
match across something, and it blazed up. I suppose he
dropped it in the linhay, also, whilst getting the horse and
cart out.”
“What! you had horse and cart there?”
“Yes.”
“And your uncle went back to the Cellars?”
“Yes; just before. Indeed, as we turned into the
field, I heard my father go by; I heard him speak to
Neddy. He always talks to the donkey as he goes along.”
“You did not speak to your father?”
“No. Uncle was impatient, and father was rattling
along at a fine pace, and you know from that place it is all
down hill to Coombe.”
“Your uncle returned to the Cellars after that; you
are quite sure of it?”
.bn 042.png
.pn +1
“Yes; certain. He told me he had forgotten to
lock up.”
“Why did he not go by the road?”
“I cannot tell’perhaps he thought the other way
shortest.”
“It is not that. Was he long away?”
“I cannot tell. I fell asleep. Have you not anything
to tell me of father? I know he went to Coombe.”
“I have told you’I have not seen him.”
“Where can he be?”
Neither answered that question.
Even into Jan’s dull brain there penetrated an idea that
some mystery connected with Pasco Pepperill was involved’that
it was singular that he, his wife, and niece should
have all left the Cellars before the fire broke out, and that
Pasco should have returned there secretly after having
left. He said nothing. If he tried to think, his thoughts
became entangled, and he saw nothing clearly. An uneasy
feeling pervaded him, which he was unable to explain to
himself.
During the first part of the journey back to the Cellars,
Kate talked. She sat beside Jan Pooke. Rose was behind,
keeping a ready ear to hear what was said, and interfere
should she deem it expedient.
“Where can my father be?” asked Kitty.
As no answer was given to her query, she said
further’
“It is very strange, and I cannot understand how he is
not there. He must have been at Coombe just before the
.bn 043.png
.pn +1
fire broke out. I know he passed along the road. Where
are the donkey and cart?”
“They are at the Cellars,” answered Jan.
“Then my father must be there. He cannot be far off.
He cannot get about easily, as he is so lame.”
“I suppose he must be somewhere,” was the wise
observation of Pooke.
“Hasn’t my aunt seen him?”
“No, Kitty.”
“Nor anyone.”
Jan hesitated, and presently said’
“I did hear something about the parson having spoke
with her, but I don’t know the rights of it.”
“He must be there. He cannot be far off. We shall
see him when we arrive. I daresay he had some business
that took him off; but if he heard of the fire, he would come
back at once. He will be a loser by it as well as my
uncle.”
“Folk say there will be no loss, as Mr. Pepperill insured
so terrible heavy. They do tell that he has insured for
two thousand pounds, and that only about fifty pounds
worth of goods is burnt.”
Kate shrank together. Rose touched Pooke significantly
to hold his tongue.
After that Kitty remained very silent. A feeling of
unrest took possession of her, even of alarm, at some impending
catastrophe. That her uncle had been in difficulty
she knew. That he was in want of money to pay for the
timber before he could realise on it, and to meet his dishonoured
.bn 044.png
.pn +1
bill for the wool, she knew. A chill ran through
her veins.
After a long period of silence Rose said to her’
“Kitty, is it true that you and the schoolmaster went to
old Mr. Puddicombe about being engaged?”
“Yes,” answered the girl addressed.
“He took it as a mark of proper respect?”
“Yes.”
“Jan, dear,” said Rose, touching Pooke, “as soon as we
get to Coombe, you and I will go and call on Mr. Puddicombe.
It will please him. He was the first who heard
about your engagement, Kitty?”
“Not quite that’we told Mr. Fielding.”
“Oh, the parson! But everyone respects Mr. Puddicombe
so much, that I think Jan and I will go to him
first. You know, Kitty, we have settled it between us’I
mean, Jan and I’on our way to Brimpts, and Mr.
Puddicombe ought to know.”
.bn 045.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XLI | TAKING SHAPE
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
It was evening when Kate was driven up to the Cellars,
yet not so dark but that she could see the donkey in
the paddock, and dark enough to make the glow of the
still smoking heap visible, here and there, in red seams and
yellow sparks.
“There is Neddy,” exclaimed Kate. “My father must
be here.”
As she was descending from the cart, she said, “Why, he
may have crossed the Teign in the boat.”
“No, Kitty,” answered Jan; “I don’t think that.”
“Why not?”
Pooke was afraid of answering lest he should involve
himself; and Rose had jumped down at the mill, and
so was not there to prevent him from committing an
error.
Before entering the house, in her anxiety about her
father, Kate ran to the mooring-place of the boats, and
came back in some exultation to Jan. “I said so. He
has crossed. The old boat is gone.”
“It was there yesterday. It was there all the night of
.bn 046.png
.pn +1
the fire and next day. It has been taken since,” answered
Pooke.
Kate was downcast. She held out her hand to Jan,
took her little bundle, and entered the house. Her aunt
had not come out to meet her. That she had not expected.
No one in that house had shown her graciousness and
desire for her presence, and she had ceased to expect it.
When she entered, it was with a hesitating foot. She
thought that Rose, out of good nature and desire to please,
had represented her aunt as more desirous to have her
than she really was. Having never met with affection on
the part of Zerah, hardly with recognition of her services,
she did not anticipate a complete change in demeanour.
She was surprised to find that her aunt had not lighted a
candle.
She called to her, when Zerah replied, with a cry that
thrilled Kate to her heart’s core, “Is that my Kitty? My
child come back to me?”
In another moment aunt and niece were locked in each
other’s arms, and sobbing out their hearts,’Kate, through
joy, dashed with dread of evil; Zerah, through joy at
seeing her niece again, a joy that sprang out of despair.
A singular relation now developed itself between them.
After a very short while, Kitty perceived that there was
something on her aunt’s mind, that Zerah was weighed
down with a sense of some calamity far exceeding that of
the loss of so many tons of coal and so many fleeces of
wool. The woman was suddenly become timid and apprehensive.
It gave her pain to speak of what had taken
.bn 047.png
.pn +1
place, and she avoided by every kind of subterfuge expressing
an opinion as to the cause of the fire, and as to the
extent of the damage done. She had for some years faced
the prospect of financial ruin, and if this had come upon
her, Kate was sure she would have met it, not indeed with
equanimity, but with sullen assurance that it was inevitable,
and have prepared herself to accept the new position of
poverty.
But that which occupied and disorganised the heart of
Zerah was something else, something more tearful. Kate
saw that she shrank not only from allusion to the fire, but
from inquiries as to the fate of her brother, and whenever
Jason was named or referred to, the woman caught her
niece to her bosom and covered her with kisses, wept,
trembled, but said nothing.
Mrs. Pepperill took Kate from her little attic-room to
share her bed during the absence of Pasco, and the girl
found that the trouble which weighed on her aunt during
the day haunted and tortured her during the night. Zerah
slept little, tossed in her bed; and if she slept, broke into
moans and exclamations.
Meanwhile, Kitty did not rest from making inquiries
relative to her father. She visited the rector, and ascertained
from his lips that he had seen and exchanged words
with Jason Quarm on the evening of the fire, in fact, only
an hour or two before the fire must have broken out.
But where was her father? The old boat was gone, that
was true; but it was in its place on the morning after the
fire, as well as all that night. It had been taken later;
.bn 048.png
.pn +1
and there was, perhaps, not much to marvel at in this,
when the Cellars were crowded with all conditions of sightseers
and mischief-doers pervading the precincts. Dishonest
men might have taken advantage of the confusion
to purloin the boat, or mischievous boys to have loosed the
cable and let her drift with the tide where it chose to sweep
her.
Inevitably Kate became aware of the opinion prevailing
in the village, that her father was burned to death in the
storehouse, and it was hard for her to come to any other
conclusion. She went to Mrs. Redmore to inquire whether
he had been to his old cottage, but the timid, not very
bright woman nervously denied any knowledge of him.
Her distress was very great, but she sought to conceal
it from her aunt, who wanted nothing to augment her own
trouble.
Hitherto the fire had smouldered on in the ruins, but it
became less, and though the charred masses still gave out
gusts of heat, there was no more smoke rising from them,
only a quivering of the air above the ashes.
The fire was naturally the main topic of conversation in
the neighbourhood. Minds as well as tongues were
exercised. Comments were made on the absence of Pasco,
which were rendered hardly more favourable by the knowledge
that he had gone to a funeral. He knew nothing of
his uncle’s illness and death when he started. Why had
he sent his wife away? Why had he carried his niece back
to Dartmoor, from which she had been recently brought?
Incautious exclamations of Zerah, when first made aware
.bn 049.png
.pn +1
of the fire and of her brother’s disappearance, together with
her reticence since, were discussed.
Prowlers came round the house, peering into this part,
then another. An agent from the insurance office suddenly
presented himself, listened to and noted down the various
rumours in circulation, and threw out a hint that his office
would consider before it paid the sum for which the storehouse
and its contents were inscribed.
The rector called on Mrs. Pepperill, and without
appearing to intrude on her troubles, endeavoured to gain
from her something which might elucidate the mystery of
Quarm’s disappearance. Her mouth remained shut, and
her eyes scrutinised him with suspicion.
Mr. Pooke senior was constable, and he considered it
his duty to intervene. He owed a grudge, nay, two, to
Pasco Pepperill, and this fire was an opportunity for paying
it off. He was angry with Pepperill because he had not
shown him the deference that Pooke considered his due,
and had wrested from him the office of churchwarden. A
triumph indeed would it prove were he to be able to make
Pepperill amenable to the law. Moreover, Pepperill was
uncle to the chit who had dared’positively dared!’to
refuse his son. He had not desired the engagement’he
had disliked the idea of it’he would have vastly preferred
his son’s union with the miller’s daughter. But that
Pepperill’s niece’the daughter of that donkey-driver, Jason
Quarm’should have the temerity to refuse his son was a
fact he could not stomach; it was a spot in his mantle
of pride.
.bn 050.png
.pn +1
When he heard the talk about Pepperill, he considered
himself justified’nay, called upon by virtue of his office’to
make himself acquainted with all the facts, and, if
possible, to get his rival into difficulties. A rival Pepperill
was. Pooke regarded himself as a sort of king in Coombe,
where his family had held lands for centuries; never,
indeed, extending the patrimony; never suing for a grant
of arms, but holding on to the paternal acres as yeomen’substantial,
self-esteeming, defiant of new-comers.
Pasco was not exactly in this latter category, but he was
a man who gave himself great airs, who showed the yeoman
no deference, and took a delight in thwarting him, and heading
a clique against him at vestry, and generally in the parish.
Pooke listened attentively to all that was said relative to
the fire, and prejudice against the man induced him to
believe that Pasco had fired his own stores in order to
obtain the insurance money; by what means Quarm was
made the victim he could not tell. If he could prove
Pepperill to be a rascal, it would be great satisfaction, but
if he proved him to be a villain guilty of murder, that would
be ecstasy.
Without warning given to Mrs. Pepperill, Mr. Pooke
made a descent on the Cellars, attended by four of his
men armed with shovels and picks. He did not even ask
her leave to overturn the ruins and search among the heaps
of ash for the remains of the man who, it was surmised,
had perished in the fire. With an imperious voice and a
consequential air he gave his orders; and when the men
were engaged in testing the cinders to find whether they
.bn 051.png
.pn +1
were cool, and might safely be turned over, and in hacking
and removing the beams charred and menacing a fall, he
betook himself to the outhouse, where was the cart, so as
to examine that.
He returned speedily, carrying a bundle fastened in a
handkerchief, and this he proceeded to open. It contained
a clean shirt, stockings, a razor, and other articles such as
a man would be likely to take with him when about to stay
abroad a night or two.
“There!” exclaimed Pooke. “I have found at once
what no one else saw’indubitable evidence not only that
Jason Quarm came here, but that he never left this place.
If he is not under these cinders, I ask, where else can
he be?”
Kate and her aunt looked out at the door timidly.
They knew that Mr. Pooke was constable, and they had no
idea of any limit to his authority. He came towards them.
“I must know all about it’the ins and outs; the ups
and downs. No blinking with me’no rolling of the
matter up in blather. What do you know of Jason
Quarm?” He turned to Mrs. Pepperill.
“Nothing at all,” she answered. “I do not even know
that he came here.”
“Come here he did,” said Pooke. “Here is the donkey’here
the cart’here his bundle of clothes. Now, did he
go away?”
“I was not here; I was at Teignmouth. I know
nothing,” said Zerah in nervous terror.
“The girl’the girl who had the impudence’to’to
.bn 052.png
.pn +1
refuse my son’she knows something about this! She was
with her uncle. Why did he ask Mr. Ash, the miller, to
not only date his receipt of a trifle by the day of month,
but by the hour of the evening? That is not ordinarily
done. And why did he sneak back to the Cellars, after
he had got a little way along the road, putting his trap
up, and leaving it with the girl? I want to know all
that!”
“Here is my uncle; he will answer you himself,” gasped
Kitty, perplexed and alarmed at the string of questions,
and then relieved to see Pasco arrive.
“What is the meaning of this?” shouted Pepperill,
jumping out of a hired conveyance. He was in profound
mourning, very new and glossy. “What is this you are
doing, Pooke? Where is your authority?”
“I am constable.”
“A constable without a warrant! Off!’leave my
ground at once! I’ll communicate with my solicitor, and
have a summons taken out against you. My solicitor is
not a man to understand jokes’nor am I.”
“You may be in the right for the moment,” said Pooke,
becoming purple with vexation at being caught going
beyond his powers, and with anger at being sent off, when
he had come to the spot with such blare and blaze of
authority. “But I’ll tell you what it is, Master Pepperill,
there are queer tales abroad about you and this fire, and
we want to know, where is Jason Quarm?”
“Quarm?’gone to Portsmouth.”
“To Portsmouth?”
.bn 053.png
.pn +1
“Of course; we are in treaty with the dockyard for our
timber at Brimpts.”
“I don’t believe it! He is burnt!’here!”
“Burnt? Fudge! He said he was going to Portsmouth.”
“He said that? When did you see him?”
“I mean I heard from him to that effect. Now be off!
I’ll have no overhauling of my premises! I’ll have no
cross-questioning here! I have a solicitor of my own now,
and he shall know the reason of everything. Get you gone!’and
be blowed!”
.bn 054.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XLII | AN UGLY HINT
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
Talking loudly, laughing noisily, boisterously
threatening proceedings against all trespassers,
Pasco Pepperill came in at his door.
“For heaven’s sake, what are you doing?” was his first
salutation from his wife. “How dare you behave as you
do? You’you?”
He saw at once that she believed in his guilt, and
designed to caution him against overacting his part.
A great transformation had taken place in Pepperill.
Now that he had done the deed, all dread of the consequences
seemed to have been swept away; he must assume
an innocent part, look people full in the face, and resent
suspicion as an insult. The fact that he had come in for
a handsome legacy assisted him to shake off the consciousness
of guilt. He was now a man worth three or four
thousand pounds, and when the assurance was paid he
would be worth an additional thousand.
What could be proved against him? Nothing. Suspicion
might be entertained, but what was suspicion when it had
nothing substantial as a basis?
.bn 055.png
.pn +1
“Give me a jug of cider,” he commanded, and Zerah
hastened to obey. She put a tumbler on the table beside
the jug.
Pasco leisurely poured out a glass, and held it up between
himself and the light, and was pleased to observe
how steady his hand was.
“Zerah! come and look here. There is rope in the
liquor’it is turning sour.”
Kate looked fixedly at her uncle’s face. The child was
in distress and doubt. Was her father alive, or had he
died a death of the worst description? Was he away on
his business, carrying out some risky speculation, or did
his bones lie resolved to ash in the great cinder-heap
that had smouldered on so long, and was but just
extinct?
She had not met with anything in her uncle’s character
which would justify her in attributing to him so deliberate
and desperate a crime as firing his own warehouse, and
sacrificing, intentionally or accidentally, the life of his
brother-in-law; and yet his wife, who ought to know him
best, had arrived at the worst conclusion, and though she
said nothing, Kate saw by her manner that she was for ever
estranged from her husband, and regarded him as guilty of
the crime in its worst form.
Zerah had retained Kitty in her room, and had more than
once said to her that after the return of Pasco she would
make him occupy Kate’s old attic; she would no longer
treat Pasco other than as a stranger. Her reception of him
now showed repugnance and restraint; the shrinking of an
.bn 056.png
.pn +1
upright nature from one tainted with dishonesty, and exhibiting
restraint from saying all that was felt.
Kate looked on her uncle with his self-satisfied expression,
holding the glass between him and the light with a
steady hand, concerning his mind about the ropiness of the
cider, and in her simple mind, ignorant of evil, direct,
with no trickiness or dissimulation in it, she felt vast relief.
She could not believe that Pasco had done wrong, nor
that he had any misgivings as to the well-being of her
father.
She drew a long sigh, and passed her hand across her
brow, as though to brush away the cloud that had hung
over it and darkened all her thoughts.
In the new confidence established between herself and
her aunt, Kate had whispered to her that she was engaged
to Walter Bramber, but the news seemed to make as little
impression on Zerah as it had on Pasco, and for the same
reason, that each mind was engrossed in other more immediately
interesting matters. The girl submitted with that
resignation which characterised her. She made little account
of herself, and did not suppose that what concerned her could
excite lively emotions in the hearts of her uncle and aunt.
Even Mr. Puddicombe had shown more sympathy and
pleasure. But then, Kate could make allowance for the
preoccupation of her aunt’s mind consequent on the fire.
Kate now timidly approached her uncle, keeping her
eyes riveted on his face, and, standing on the other side
of the little round table on which was his jug, she asked’
“Are you quite sure my dear father is all right?”
.bn 057.png
.pn +1
Pasco looked sharply at her.
“Questions again?” he said hastily, and a flush came
into his cheek.
“I have a right to ask this question,” said Kate firmly.
His eye fell under hers; he set down the glass unsteadily
and upset the cider.
“Hang it! why have you a right?”
“I want to know that my father is alive.”
“I say he’s gone to Portsmouth.”
“But how did he go?”
“That was his affair, not mine; the Atmospheric, I
suppose.”
“He could not cross during that night’at least, not till
near dawn, and so must have been here when the warehouse
was burnt.”
“I don’t see that; there are other ways of getting away.
He went on to Shaldon.”
That was certainly possible. Quarm might have pursued
the right bank of the river to where it could be crossed at
any tide, but this was not probable.
An interruption was occasioned by the entry of the
rector. After the usual salutations, he at once turned to
the topic which had been engaging thoughts and tongues
before he appeared.
“I have no desire to intrude,” said he, “but I have come
to prevent a scandal, if possible, and perhaps a quarrel.
Mr. Pooke is in a great heat, and vows he will have a search-warrant
to turn over the heaps, as you have refused him to
explore them. You are churchwarden, Mr. Pepperill, and
.bn 058.png
.pn +1
I not only desire to prevent unpleasantness on your own
account, but on that of the Church. You have, I believe,
sent Mr. Pooke off?”
“I have.”
“But why so? He may have acted irregularly, but it
was with good intentions, and you were absent.”
“He had no right to touch what was mine.”
“No doubt he erred, but you were absent, consider; and
your wife, your niece, the whole village, were in excitement
and alarm. He did what seemed fit to allay this unrest; to
find out whether Mr. Quarm had been here or not.”
“It is no good. He’ll get no warrant, unless magistrates
be fools. He has no case’not a ghost of a case. Jason
went to Shaldon, and so over the water.”
“You are sure?”
“I fancy he did. I heard he wanted to reach Portsmouth,
and the tide was out when he got here, so he could not
cross in the ferry. He went on. At Teignmouth he would
get into the Atmospheric.”
“That is readily ascertained. We have but to send to
Shaldon and inquire. The boatman who took him across
can be found. If he crossed the wooden bridge, then the
man who takes toll will be able to say something.”
“He may have gone round the head of the estuary.”
“Not likely, if he left his cart and donkey here.”
Pepperill was unable to answer. He was a heavy-headed
man, not quick at invention.
“Then,” continued the rector, “the warehouse did not
catch fire of itself; someone must have fired it.”
.bn 059.png
.pn +1
“Of course,” said Pepperill.
“I may as well tell you,” continued Mr. Fielding, “that
Mr. Bramber, the schoolmaster, came to the Cellars the
evening of the fire”’
“The deuce he did!”
“Just after dusk.”
“And what brought him here, the puppy?”
“He came,” answered Mr. Fielding, “because he wished
to see Kitty and you.”
“Pray what did he want with Kitty?”
“Surely, Mr. Pepperill, you know that the two young
people have come to an understanding.”
Pasco shrugged his shoulders. “I may have heard something
of the sort, but I have other things more important
to interest and occupy my mind. I gave it no heed.”
“Well, he desired to speak with you, as her father was
away, and you stood in a semi-parental relation to her,
living as she did in your house.”
“Well, he found no one here,” observed Pasco, with some
uneasiness of manner.
“As he approached the Cellars he heard an altercation,
and then the house door violently slammed. Then, thinking
the occasion unpropitious, he turned back.”
“It was fancy. No one was here. My wife was over the
water, and I on my way to Brimpts. If you doubt my word,
ask Mr. Ash, he receipted my bill, and I had a talk as well
with the landlord.”
“That is true, Mr. Pepperill, but Jason Quarm was here.
I saw him drive past my gate, and I cast a good-even to
.bn 060.png
.pn +1
him. If an altercation took place here, he was probably
one of those engaged in it. I took it for granted that you
were the other.”
“I’I’I?” stuttered Pasco.
“Yes, because you returned to the Cellars after you had
got to the head of the hill.”
“Who said that? It is a lie!”
“Kitty, I understand, said as much to John Pooke.”
“Kitty said it?”
“Kitty told Jan and Rose as she was being driven home
from the moor’so I have been informed.”
“It’s a lie!” roared Pasco, glaring round at the girl with
a curl up of his thick lips, showing his teeth like a dog
about to bite. “It’s a ’–– lie!”
“Mr. Pepperill!” said the rector, rising in dignified anger
from the seat that had been accorded him, “I will not suffer
you to use such an expression in my presence, even in your
own house. You do not add one jot to the force of your
repudiation’to your charge against Kate’by burdening it
with an oath.”
“It’s like that beggarly schoolmaster’s impudence to come
poking his snout here, where he’s not wanted, where”’with
some energy’“I won’t have him! I’ll have the law of him
for trespass!”
“He did not trespass. It is free to anyone to approach
a house door.”
“I don’t care; I’ll shoot him if he shows his face here
again.”
“You are branching away from the matter in immediate
.bn 061.png
.pn +1
consideration. There seems to be a conflict of testimony.
Kitty, whom I have always found true and direct as a
needle, has made one statement,’not indeed to me, but
to others,’and this you contradict.”
“I’m churchwarden’I’m a man of means and in a good
business. I should think my word was worth more than
that of a sly, chattering, idle minx.”
“Sly, chattering, that my little Kitty is not; I have ever
found her straightforward and reserved. As to her work in
the house, her aunt is better qualified to express an opinion
than you, Mr. Pepperill.”
“I don’t see that you’ve any call to come here, poking
into matters and axin’ questions like another Kitty, if I may
make so bold as to say so,” said Pasco, defiant and then
qualifying his defiance.
“As I told you at the outset, Mr. Pepperill, I have come
here not to make an official inquiry, but to prevent one.
There is a mistake somewhere. My wish was to clear it
up before matters grew to a head. You and Mr. Pooke are
both stubborn men, and may knock heads and crack skulls
over nothing. A word will probably lighten what is now
dark, and dissipate a growing mistrust. I cannot, and I
will not, believe half of what is being said relative to you.
I have come to your house as a peacemaker, to entreat you
to so account for little matters which puzzle the good people
here, before what is now whispered may be brayed, what is
now a conjecture may be crystallised into a conviction. As
far as is known, the matter stands thus: Mr. Quarm came
here, and here have been found his donkey and cart and
.bn 062.png
.pn +1
his little bundle of clothes. If he had crossed the water,
he would have taken the latter with him. Two persons
were heard in altercation here shortly after his having passed
through Coombe, and the door was shut violently. Next
morning the door was locked, and Mrs. Pepperill when she
came found the key in a hiding-place known, as she then
said, only to herself and you.”
“Don’t you suppose Kitty knew it also?”
“I daresay she did. Your wife’s words, when she
arrived, found the stores burnt, and the house locked, and
the key in a certain place’her words were, ‘Pasco has put
the key where I have found it.’ It was of course surmised
that before you left you had locked the door, but Kitty told
young Pooke that when you reached the top of the hill you
returned to the Cellars, saying that you had forgotten to
lock the house. It, therefore, seemed to me probable that
on your return, you and Quarm came to high words about
something.”
“Nothing of the sort I never came back.”
“Oh, uncle!” escaped Kate’s lips.
He turned his menacing eyes on her, with the same snarl
on his mouth.
“I’ll tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth,” said he. “That is, if you will insist on having it,
and you can make of it what you like, pass’n. When I got
to the top o’ the hill, where is Ash’s linhay, it is true that
I remembered I’d not locked up the dwelling-house. Then
I sent Kitty back and told her to lock and put the key where
her aunt would find it, and I’d stay and mind the hoss.”
.bn 063.png
.pn +1
“Uncle!” Kitty turned white and rigid.
“And, dash it! if someone must ha’ set fire to the old
place,’and I reckon there was someone, them things don’t
do themselves,’it must ha’ been either she or Jason, or
both together. And I reckon he’s run away to escape the
consequences.”
The rector stood up. He had reseated himself after his
protest. His face was very grave.
“I see,” said he, taking his hat, and moving to the door.
“This affair wears a different colour from what I supposed.
It must be elucidated irrespective of me. My part is done.
It must be taken up and investigated by the proper
authorities.”
.bn 064.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XLIII | MUCH CRY AND A LITTLE WOOL
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
“Aunt!” exclaimed Kitty, blank and trembling, turning
to Zerah, the moment the rector had left the
house. “Oh, auntie dear, this is not true’this that Uncle
Pasco says. I did not go back. I was left in the linhay
with the cart. What does he mean?”
“He means to shelter himself,” answered Mrs. Pepperill.
Then the woman stepped in front of her husband, and, in
her harshest tones and hardest manner, said, “Pasco! A
yea or nay from Kitty is, as pass’n said, worth a thousand
of your protestations, though bolstered up wi’ oaths.”
“Of course Kitty is everything to you and the pass’n, and
I am nothing. I know that very well. I’ve had enough
of your violence o’ tongue-lash these twenty years; and let
me tell you, Zerah, I’ve got hard to it and don’t care a snap
for it.” And he suited the action to the word, with an
insolence of expression and manner that would have made
the woman blaze forth into fury at any other time. Now
she passed his rudeness with disregard.
“Pasco!” she said in metallic tones, “there has been a
load o’ lead crushing down my heart. I’ll shake it off and
.bn 065.png
.pn +1
run it into bullets against you now, and every word shall be
a bullet. Now, before Kitty, I will say what I have had
on my mind. It is you who have lied. I have known for
some time what you were thinking of. I’ve seen you
hovering like a hawk, and the moment I was gone’had
crossed the water’you dropped. You durstn’t do it whilst
I was here. You feared me because I feared God. There’s
no bigger coward on earth than the man who fears his
fellow because that fellow has God before his eyes. No
sooner was I out of the way than you at once seized the
chance offered; and I’I had gone with all my little lay-by
to get you out of your difficulties and prevent you doing
what I feared was in your intent. You’d never spoke a
word to me of that purpose of yourn, you durst not do it;
but I saw it formin’ in you; I saw it, looking into your eyes,
just as you may see the sediment settlin’ in dirty water.
When I was out of the way, then you thought you could do
it. You took Kitty away’who was but just home from
the moor, and all for no reason save that you didn’t want
any witness. Then you left her with the cart and hoss at
Ash’s linhay in Furze Park, and came back here to carry
out your purpose. So far I can see. Then my sight
becomes thick, a mist is over my eyes, and all the rest is
doubtful. What happened when you came back here’what
passed between you and Jason’what became of my
brother? All that I know not’but know I must and
will.”
Pasco’s face grew more sullen, and his demeanour dogged
to defiance. He could not look his wife in the face, he
.bn 066.png
.pn +1
kept his eyes on the ground, and with his boot scratched
the floor in fantastic figures.
“I can see all that passes in your heart,” pursued Zerah.
“It’s like as if I were outside a window, and see’d shadows
on the blind as this and that went by and this and that rose
up or sat down. Now the folk begin to talk and to suspect
you, and say how that you insured for a big sum, and when
the goods weren’t paid for, burnt ’em all to secure the
insurance; then you try and throw the suspicion off on to
Kitty or Jason, or both together. It is like you, you black
coward. But it shall not be. I will stand betwixt you and
Kitty, and no harm from you shall hurt her. What I and
Kitty want to know is’What has become of Jason?
Where is he? If you will not answer, we will work out the
answer for our own selves’she with the heable (fork), I
with the phisgie (pick). We have strong arms, and we will
ourselves root about in the ruins, till we learn something
to satisfy our minds.”
“I don’t know how you’ve the face to talk to me like this,
Zerah,” said Pasco surlily. “I’ve come into something like
four thousand pounds through my uncle, and there’ll be
another thousand and more from the insurance. On five
thousand pounds’Lord! I’m a Christian and a gentleman.”
“Bank-notes won’t plaster sore consciences,” retorted
Zerah. “You think money is everything, and no matter
how it be come by. So it has ever been with you.”
“Am I like to be a villain,” queried Pasco in exasperation,
“when I knew my uncle was worth a pot o’ coin that
was sure to come to me?”
.bn 067.png
.pn +1
“You did not know he was dead.”
“I knew he was sickening and worn out. A man of
means don’t do criminal acts; that’s the perquisite of
beggars and labouring men.”
“I do not ask for excuses and evasions. I ask’where
is my brother?” persisted Zerah.
At that moment the door was thrown open, a hand was
thrust in, waving a paper, and a voice shouted’
“There you be, Pasco Pepperill. I’ve got my warranty.
I said I would, and I’m the man o’ my word. I went full
gallop up to Squire Carew. None can stand agin me.”
Pepperill went to the door, saw the back of Mr. Pooke
as he walked away, and the faces of a number of workmen
with pick and crowbar and shovel, backed by a
crowd of all descriptions of persons from the village and
neighbourhood.
He hesitated for some moments. He stood irresolute,
holding the door-posts and working his nails at the paint,
picking it off in flakes. His heart turned sick within him.
If the heaps of cinders were thrown back, then surely the
remains of Jason Quarm would be discovered, and with the
discovery there would ensue an inquest, and much unpleasantness
if not danger to himself. With low cunning
he resolved to make the best of the inevitable. He shouted
to his wife’
“Zerah! bring out cider for the good fellows. They are
working for us, as you know. If you have saffron cake, out
with that too. I daresay I shall find a shilling apiece as
well.”
.bn 068.png
.pn +1
He went behind Pooke, slapped him on the back, and
said boisterously’
“Well done, old man! That is what I wanted. If a
thing has to be executed, let all be above-board and legal.
That’s my doctrine. I don’t like no hole-and-corner proceedings.
Meddlin’ wi’out authority makes the end a
botch. If you hadn’t begun, I would have done it myself.”
In the house Zerah restrained Kitty with one hand and
closed the door with the other. The woman was labouring
for breath, so great was her excitement. Her face was
now flushed, then became wan as death.
“Kitty, my darling,” she said, “I reckon I’ve been hard
and exactin’ in the past. The old pass’n were right, though
I wouldn’t believe him, and said he was insultin’ of me to
say it. ’Twas love, he told, as you wanted, and I didn’t
give it you. Love, the very air of heaven, wi’out which the
little maid couldn’t thrive. I wi’held it from you’so he
told’and I shut my ears and hardened my heart. But in
the end he were right. When I found out what had been
done, then it broke me down. I cannot respect and love
him no longer. I tried my best when he was foolish and
unfortunate. But now he’s guilty, I cannot’I cannot, and
then all my love turns to you.”
Kitty threw herself into her aunt’s arms and sobbed.
“There’s no time now for tears,” said Zerah, with a gulp
in her throat. “We cannot tell what is coming on us. It
may be that the remains of your poor father will be found.
If so, then’” Zerah shivered as if frost-smitten. “God
bless us! It will be too horrible’to live under the same
.bn 069.png
.pn +1
roof, to eat at the same table, to see the face, hear the
voice of the man’” She was unable to conclude her
sentence. After a long pause and a hug of Kitty, she
continued: “I cannot say how it all came about. Bad as
he may be, I hardly think he did it of purpose. ’Twas
some accident. I don’t mean the burning the stores’but
of your father. No; he was not so bad as that, please
God! I hope, I trust not! Now, Kitty, you and I must
make up our minds to whatever happens. And I reckon
there is but one thing us can do.”
“What is that, dear auntie?”
“Hold our tongues.”
After a long pause, whilst the girl clung to her, she
added, “No good can come of us speaking what we know,
and what we fancy. It can but heap up a great pile of
misery and shame. If it comes to an inquiry in court’that’s
another matter. They won’t call on me, as I am
Pasco’s wife, but they will on you, and you must up and
speak the truth at any cost. But if there be no such
inquiry, then hold your tongue, as I will mine. The mischief,
so far, has come from what we have said. We can
do no good; we may make the affair worse for ourselves if
we talk. Leave him in the hands of God, to do wi’ him as
He wills.”
Kate kissed her aunt and promised silence.
Then both went forth, and reached the crowd about the
ruins and piles of ashes, as Pepperill was saying in a loud
tone, “I don’t say you won’t find bones. I believe now I
had a pile, but all mutton and beef bones.”
.bn 070.png
.pn +1
“Why, what were you doing wi’ bones?” asked Pooke.
“Collecting of ’em for dressing,” answered Pepperill
promptly. “I’ve been in the hide line some while, and
lately I took a fancy to bones also; but I didn’t do much,
just begun on it, so to speak’all ox and sheep bones’nothing
else. Pound bones up wi’ a hammer, they’re fine
for turnips. Jason put me up to speculating in bones.”
The mass of crumbling wall, charred beam, and cinder
was speedily attacked by the workmen under the direction
of the constable, who had much difficulty in keeping the
curious at a distance; men, women, and children were
eager to assist with their hands, or advise with their
tongues. They ran into danger by approaching tottering
walls. They trampled down the ashes; they got in the
way of the workmen; and occasionally a scream and an
objurgation was the result of a labourer casting his shovelful
of cinders in the face of an inquisitive spectator who
got in his way. Mr. Pooke protested and stormed, but
with little avail; all were too interested to attend to his
orders, and he was without assistants to enforce them.
Pepperill bustled about, vociferating, driving spectators
back, encouraging workmen, running after cakes and cider,
and making the confusion greater. Kate sat on a fallen
beam, chin in hand, watching intently every spade as it
turned the ashes, wincing at every pick driven into the
cinder heaps. The tears were trickling down her cheeks.
Then Walter Bramber, who had just arrived, went up to
Farmer Pooke and asked leave to run a cord across from
one rail to another, and volunteered with the assistance of
.bn 071.png
.pn +1
Noah Flood and John Pooke to keep the people from
interference.
“Why should they be kept back? Don’t they want to
find what has become of Mr. Quarm every whit as much as
me? Let ’em come on,” shouted Pepperill.
But the constable saw the advantage of the proposal, and
gave the order. In ten minutes the scene of the conflagration
was freed from sightseers, who were confined at a
distance.
Then Bramber went to Kitty and said in a low tone,
“You do not think it is hopeless, I trust?”
“I do not know what to think,” she answered.
“Is it true what I have heard, that your uncle returned
here after dark and left you at the top of the hill?”
Kate did not answer.
“That is what is said. Jan Pooke told me he had heard
it from your own lips.”
She continued silent.
“I should like to know, Kitty, the truth in this matter.”
“I can say nothing,” she answered, and hung her head
lower.
Bramber was surprised, but he had not time to expend
in conversation: he had undertaken to keep off the crowd,
and some were diving under the rope, others attempting to
stride over it.
An hour was expended in turning about the refuse. All
the coal had been consumed, but, singularly and inexplicably,
not all the fleeces. Bundles of wool were found’not
many, indeed, but some, singed, not consumed, which,
.bn 072.png
.pn +1
when exposed, exhaled a sickening odour. The dangerous
portions of tottering walls had been thrown down, the slate
flooring exposed. Not a trace of Jason Quarm could be
found.
Pasco, who had been nervous, watching all the operations
of the excavators in deadly fear of a revelation of the
charred remains of his brother-in-law, breathed freely,
recovered all his audacity and boisterousness.
“I said as much, but none believed me. Jason is
gone; he was not the man to sit quiet in a fire. How
the fire came about is a question we won’t go into too
close.”
“The bones you spoke of,” said Pooke, “we ha’n’t come
on them. They’ve been consumed’perhaps poor Quarm
as well. The fire must have been deadly hot.”
“It didn’t burn those fleeces,” answered Pasco triumphantly.
“I’ll tell you what; Jason made off for reasons well
known to himself. If we don’t hear of him again, I sha’n’t
wonder; but burned here he certainly was not, as any fool
can see. He was not the man to let himself burn. Cripple
though he was, he could hop out of danger.”
Pasco turned to Bramber. “What is that you have
been saying to the parson about hearing Mr. Quarm and
his daughter argyfying at my door the night of the
fire?”
Walter Bramber was taken aback.
“Yes, you said you had heard them in hot dispute.”
“I said,” answered Bramber in surprise and indignation,
“something very different from that. I said”’
.bn 073.png
.pn +1
His hand was caught by Kate, who looked pleadingly
into his face.
“A word alone.”
“What is it, Kitty?”
“Say nothing to anyone of what you saw and heard that
night.”
.bn 074.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XLIV | PUDDICOMBE IN F
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
The mystery of the disappearance of Jason Quarm
was not cleared up; on the contrary, it had become
more profound. The excavation of the ruins had revealed
nothing. It had disclosed no remains of the lost man, and
opinions were divided. Some contended that the intense
heat of the mass of coals, a heat which had split the flooring
slates and burnt the soil beneath them to the depth of six
inches, reddening it like brick, that this heat had completely
consumed the unhappy man. On the other hand,
others asked, How could that be? Some of the wool was
scorched, not burnt; a man would make his way from fire;
he had eyes and arms, and though Quarm was crippled,
yet he could extricate himself from danger, or at all events
use his powerful lungs so as to call for help. Moreover,
Quarm wore brass buttons. Even if his body had been
resolved to ashes, the molten buttons would be found;
but no metal of any sort had been discovered on the
floor.
To this responded the first: If Quarm were not burnt,
how was it that he had not put in an appearance? His
.bn 075.png
.pn +1
bundle of clothes was found in the cart. If he had
escaped, he would surely either have made known his
escape, or have gone off with his parcel of necessaries.
Some hinted that, finding the Cellars locked, he had made
his way into the warehouse, there to spend the night, and
had gone to sleep with his pipe alight, and the pipe had
set fire to combustibles in the place. But then, supposing
this, why was his body not found if he had been smothered
by smoke? and if he had escaped, why had he not gone
off with donkey, and cart, and bundle? There was the
puzzle.
Others hinted that Pasco Pepperill was the gainer by the
fire, and that he had had a finger in setting the stores
alight. It was suspicious that he had sent away his wife,
and had gone away with his niece just before the conflagration
broke out. There was an ugly rumour afloat, that he
had returned secretly to the Cellars, and had there met
and quarrelled with his brother-in-law. This rumour was
constructed out of the reported admission of Kate, and
something, it was believed, that the schoolmaster had said.
But neither of these, on being interrogated by the inquisitive,
would say a word. The schoolmaster, with the cheek
of a stuck-up creature, had answered all inquiries with the
question, “Who has authorised you to catechise me? If
the matter is brought into court, I will say what little I
know on oath before the magistrate. I will say nothing to
self-constituted inquisitors.”
Whenever this answer of the schoolmaster was repeated,
and it was so a hundred times in the course of a week, it
.bn 076.png
.pn +1
never failed to elicit an indignant remark, generally couched
thus: “Them schoolmasters want setting down. They’re
owdacious cocky monkeys. But they’re a low lot’they
must be taught their place, which is under our heels. They
gives theirselves airs, as if they was parsons and knew
everything, but they lives on our voluntary subscriptions,
and unless they come to eat humble-pie, we’ll withdraw our
farthing-in-the-pound rate. ’Tisn’t for our pleasure or profit
they exist, but just because of a fad o’ the pass’n. Mr.
Puddicombe was the man for us. Him we could respect.
And now they sez that Mr. Puddicombe is compoging a
Tee-dum which will cut out even Jackson.”
The minds and hearts of Kitty and her aunt were
sensibly relieved. The girl had watched the exploration of
the cinder heaps with quivering nerves and brooding fear.
What might not each spade disclose? Into what an object
of horror might not her poor father be reduced? But, as
the floor of the warehouse was cleared, and every mass of
ash turned over, and nothing revealed, her heart swelled,
and the blood began again to pulsate in her arteries. She
covered her face with her hands, and lifted her heart half
in thanksgiving and half in prayer. And yet, what had
become of him? How was it that, if he were alive, he had
given no signs of life?
It was ascertained that Jason Quarm had not crossed the
estuary, either by the bridge or by boat, at Shaldon. It was
inconceivable that he had traced the creek up to its head,
below Newton Abbot, to cross the water there, as there was
no path along the water-side, and he must have come into
.bn 077.png
.pn +1
the road and made such a circuit as was not possible for a
man in his crippled condition.
At one moment Kitty was sanguine, at the next her
spirits fell. It was to be hoped’nay, believed’that he
had not perished in the fire; but was it not possible’nay,
probable’that he had died by some other means, that he
may have fallen into the mud, and been smothered therein?
That mud would swallow up the man that sank in it and
never restore him again. If he had come by his end thus,
had he fallen in, or had he been cast in?
Again, with a chill, as if pierced by an icicle, came the
thought of her uncle. Undoubtedly, he could explain all if
he chose. He had returned to the Cellars and found her
father there. The altercation which Walter had imperfectly
heard must have taken place between her father and her
uncle. It could not have occurred at that time, in that
place, between any others. Her father had passed by the
road as the cart entered the linhay, her uncle had gone
home immediately after. Therefore, these two had met at
the Cellars. What had been the occasion of the quarrel?
and what the result of that quarrel? The result was the
disappearance of her father. How had he disappeared?
That, she felt convinced, her uncle could answer, and he
alone. But for motives which she dared not investigate, he
remained silent; nay, worse, he endeavoured, by denial of
his having returned to the Cellars, to cast the suspicion of
having fired the storehouse from himself on other shoulders.
These questions turned and twisted in Kitty’s brain without
rest. They occupied her by day, they tortured her by
.bn 078.png
.pn +1
night. She did not venture to express them to her aunt.
She knew that the same thoughts, the same questions, were
working in her mind; and she knew also that her aunt
could not endure their discussion. Meanwhile, the work
of the house must be carried on, and Mrs. Pepperill called
in the assistance of Mrs. Redmore. With their preoccupied
minds, neither she nor Kitty was capable of doing all that
had been done as in days gone by.
Pasco grumbled at the introduction of this woman into
his house’the wife of the wretch who had set fire to the
rick of Farmer Pooke, and who had escaped pursuit. But
Mrs. Pepperill did not yield. There were no other women
disengaged in Coombe, and of girls she would have none
to break dishes, and throw away spoons, and melt the blades
out of the handles of knives.
Pasco acquiesced, with a growl, and a malicious look at
Kate, and a mutter that some folk were mighty fond of
incendiaries and their belongings, backing them up, helping
them to escape, providing for their families; to which neither
Kate nor her aunt made reply.
Pasco found that he was not comfortable at home; his
wife would not unbend, and Kate kept out of his way. To
his boisterous mirth, to his boastfulness, they made no
response; when he stormed, they withdrew. He was
uneasy in himself, suspicious of what men said of him, and
alarmed when he heard from his lawyer, Mr. Squire, that
the insurance company refused to pay the sum for which
he had insured. Society, distraction, were necessary for
him. As he could find none at home, he wandered to
.bn 079.png
.pn +1
the village tavern, the Lamb and Flag, to seek both
there.
The first occasion was the evening of the practice of the
village orchestra, and it was attended by every member of
the same, not only because all desired to say something
relative to the matter exercising all minds, but also because
the score of a new Te Deum had been placed before them,
the composition of the ex-schoolmaster. Puddicombe in
F was to be rehearsed by the instruments before the vocalists
were called in. Puddicombe in F was expected to be a
huge success, and to make Puddicombe known through the
wide world of music, and to render Coombe-in-Teignhead
famous in after generations, just as Exeter was known as
the place which had produced Mr. Jackson, who had won
such a fame with his Te Deum.
Each instrumentalist had his separate sheet of music, and
each devoted himself to his score with seriousness.
Puddicombe in F began with a movement slow and
stately, with all the harmonies in thirds and fifths, and a
solemn tum-tum bass. Then, precipitately, it transformed
itself into something headed Fugg. If it had been entitled
fugue, no one would have understood what was meant. But
“fugg” signified that the instruments were to perform a
sort of musical leap-frog, to go higgledy-piggledy, one after
the other, like children tumbling out of school, with the
master behind them threatening to whack the hindermost.
And, verily, never was a fugue more of a higgledy-piggledy
devil-take-the-hindermost character than this one of Puddicombe
.bn 080.png
.pn +1
in F, never such a caterwauling of cats that could
surpass it in discords, with random gruntings in and out
of the violoncello.
A villager, standing breathless outside, listening, ventured
to say to the landlord, who was smoking complacently at
his door, “There don’t seem to be much tune in it.”
“No; but there’s tremendous noise.”
The landlord drew whiffs, blew out the smoke in a long
column, and said, smiling, “Wait till we come to the largo
molto tranquillo con affettuoso caprizio.”
“What’s that?” asked the bumpkin, in an awestruck
tone.
“It’s something writ on the music by the hand of Mr.
Puddicombe. The Lord knows what it means!”
The hubbub of the “fugg” came to an end, and the
instruments paused, drew a sort of sigh, and, with stately
tread, marched in unison largo molto tranquillo con affettuoso
caprizio, and stalked through it to the end.
“There’s tune there now, and be blowed,” said the landlord
triumphantly.
“It’s the tune of ‘Kitty Alone and I,’” retorted the
irreverent countryman, and he began to sing’
.pm start_poem
“‘There was a frog lived in a well,
Crock-a-mydaisy, Kitty alone;
And a merry mouse lived in a mill,
Kitty alone and I.’”
.pm end_poem
The instruments behind the lighted window-curtains were
hushed. They had heard the rustic song.
.bn 081.png
.pn +1
“It is that, ain’t it?” pursued the man. “I’ll sing
another verse, and make sure’
.pm start_poem
“‘So here’s an end to the lovers three,
Crock-a-mydaisy, Kitty alone,
The Rat, the Mouse, and the little Frogee,
Kitty alone and I.’”
.pm end_poem
Within, the instrumentalists looked at each other. None
spoke for a minute, and then the ’cello said, in a deep voice,
as from a tomb, “Puddicombe han’t riz to the theme. He’s
forgot and worked in that frog and mouse tune. Not but
what it’s a good ’un, only unsootable.”
“It’s easy set right,” observed the first violin. “If you’ll
wait, brothers, I’ll clap on my hat and run up to his house,
and get him to titch it up a bit, and git the Kitty tune out
of it altogether. The fugg was famous.”
“Yes,” said the second violin; “it’s only to stir it about
a bit and shuffle as you do cards. Cut along with all your
legs.”
At that moment Pasco Pepperill came up, puffing,
looking about him half suspiciously, half defiantly. “How
are ye, gents?” said he. “What! practising? I don’t
mind if I sit a bit and listen to you. I’m fond of music,
especially sacred music, as I’m churchwarden.”
.bn 082.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XLV | DAYLIGHT
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
The musicians looked at each other. They could
hardly continue to practise Puddicombe in F till the
little awkwardness of the passage largo molto con affettuoso
caprizio was set to rights. It would be half an hour before
this was done. Meanwhile, the orchestra might as well
work their tongues as well as their arms and fingers, and
blow questions and puff opinions in place of musical notes.
They had assembled that evening with a double intent: the
excuse for their meeting was the rehearsal; the real object,
the airing of their views on the fire at the Cellars, its
probable origin, and what had become of Jason Quarm.
For the gathering of information on such matters, what
was more fortunate than the presence in their midst of
Pasco Pepperill, the man of all others best qualified to give
information relative to the matters troubling all hearts? It
was true that a good many’the bassoon and the ophicleide
among the orchestra’entertained grave views relative to
the conduct of Pepperill. Well! there the man was. They
might prove him with keen questions, catch him off his
guard with sly hits, entangle him in a net of incautious
.bn 083.png
.pn +1
admissions into which they had lured him, and then sit in
judgment on him and the whole case, after he had withdrawn.
“Gents and neighbours, and friends all,” said Pasco,
seating himself, “as churchwarden, my place is among you,
and allow me to stand treat of rum and water all round’no,
better than that, a grand bowl of punch, and we’ll
spoon it out with our good host’s whalebone ladle, and the
Queen Anne shilling in the bottom. Landlord, don’t spare
the rum; thanks to my uncle, I’m a man of means, and can
pay my way.”
Marvellous as a solvent is punch. The mere mention of
a bowl began to melt and break up prejudice and fixed
opinions. The bassoon had been persistent in insisting on
the criminality of Pepperill; he had urged every point
against him, he had turned aside every argument that
tended to exonerate him. As a man of strict integrity, he
was now placed in a difficult position. Either he must
hold to his opinion, rise, bow stiffly, and decline to drink
out of the bowl, to wet his lips with the generous liquor the
churchwarden provided, or else his judgment must undergo
modifications, then a complete volte face.
The popping of a cork was heard. At once the bassoon
acknowledged that he had been precipitate in forming his
conclusions. A waft of rum and lemons entered the room.
He began to see that there were weighty considerations
which had escaped him hitherto, and which undermined
his convictions. Then came the clink of the ladle in the
bowl, as the bowl was being brought in. The bassoon’s
preconceptions went down like a pack of cards. The whole
.bn 084.png
.pn +1
room was redolent with a fragrant steam, as the great iron-stoneware
bowl was planted on the table. The bassoon
was converted into an ardent, enthusiastic believer in the
churchwarden.
Wondrous is the power of conscience. It may lie asleep,
it may remain for long inert, but a little something comes,
unexpectedly touches it, and it springs up to full energy,
and resolves amidst much self-reproach to make amends
for the past. So was it in the interior of the bassoon.
The sniff of punch was to his conscience what “Hey, rats!”
is to the dozing dog. It was alive, it was stinging him, it
had brought him metaphorically in penitence to his knees
before Pasco Pepperill. He could not think, say, show
himself, sufficiently convinced that that man who provided
and paid for the punch was the embodiment of all virtues,
with a character unstained as is the lily. He trampled on
his own base self, he spurned at it, for having for a while
thought evil of so admirable a man.
“Peter Squance bain’t here. ’Tis a pity’our first fiddle,”
said the second violin. “He’ll be mazed when he comes
back with the molto largo, and finds the punch all
gone.”
“Gone?” exclaimed Pepperill. “Not a bit of it. When
this bowl is done, we will have another.”
Mr. Pepperill stood up and stirred the steaming sea
before him, in which floated yellow islets of lemon. All
eyes were on the bowl, all nostrils were dilated and sniffing,
all mouths watering.
Pasco filled each glass, and then ensued a nodding all
.bn 085.png
.pn +1
round; eyes were turned up, lips smacked, and the precious
liquor allowed to trickle down the throats in thin rills over
the tongue.
Presently the clarionet put down his glass and said, “It
was a lucky job, Pasco, that your rick o’ straw escaped
t’other night.”
“Ay, ’twas a first-rate chance,” said the landlord, who
had come and remained to taste his own brew and hear
encomiums on it.
“You see the wind was t’other way,” said the ’cello.
“And ’twasn’t insured,” added the clarionet.
All the rest looked round, and frowned, and reared
their chins. The clarionet shrank together. What had he
said? Something stupid or uncivil? He was too dull to
see where his error lay.
“That had nothing to do with it. ’Twas water chucked
over it as saved it,” threw in the bassoon, flying to the rescue.
“My straw rick suffered more from well-intentioned
assistants than from anything else,” said Pepperill. “The
wind was direct away from it, and so it couldn’t hurt.”
“It was coorious, though, the fire taking place when
everyone was away from home,” said the clarionet.
Again all looked indignantly at him. That instrument
had a way of always sounding out of key.
“There was nothing coorious at all in it,” answered the
churchwarden, with promptitude. “It was just because
everyone was away that the fire got the upper hand.”
“There’s something in that,” said the hautboy.
“There is everything,” answered Pasco. “If I or my
.bn 086.png
.pn +1
wife had been at the Cellars, we would have speedily called
help and had the fire extinguished before it could take
hold. No one was there, so it was allowed freedom to get
the mastery, and then, no one could do nothing.”
“That’s true,” said the second violin.
“It’s true,” said the rest of the instruments in unison,
looking into each other’s faces; “it couldn’t be truer.”
“You don’t happen to know how the fire came about?”
asked the clarionet.
“I don’t know,” answered the churchwarden.
“You don’t know,” repeated the violoncello, “but you
guess.”
“I have my ideas,” observed Pasco. “Gents! let me
fill your glasses again.”
“And if I might make so bold to ask?” pursued the
clarionet.
“My mouth is shut,” answered Pasco. “I don’t want
to hurt nobody, least of all a relation. Just fancy, gents
all! the insurance company have refused payment.”
“You don’t say so! Well! what is the world coming
to? But it all stands in prophecy, in the Book o’ Dan’l,”
said the hautboy.
“It is one of them beasts in Revelation!” said the
second fiddle. “The question only is which.”
“But,” pursued Pepperill, “I’ve set my solicitor at ’em.
He’ll make ’em dance a Halantow.”
“Very glad to hear it,” said the bassoon. “I drink to
his and your success.”
“We’re going to institute proceedings,” continued Pasco.
.bn 087.png
.pn +1
“What is proceedings?” asked the clarionet under his
hand of the hautboy.
“It’s a sort of blister o’ Spanish fly,” was the answer, also
in confidence.
“Then it will make ’em dance, no mistake,” said the
clarionet. “Do you think, churchwarden, it will draw?”
“Draw?” Pasco rubbed his hands and looked round.
“It’ll draw getting on for fifteen hundred pound. If that
bain’t drawin’, show me what is!”
This announcement produced a great effect.
“To go back to the p’int,” said the clarionet. “It would
be a comfort to us all if you’d give us your ideas on the
matter of the fire. You see, we’re all abroad.”
“I wouldn’t hurt nobody’not a fly. I was always
tender-hearted,” said Pasco. “Besides, you’d talk.”
“We are all friends,” urged the bassoon. “You see,
coals don’t as a rule set alight to themselves, nor wool, nor
hides neither.”
“That’s what I’ve said all along,” observed the second
fiddle. “Someone must ha’ done it. The question is’who?”
“I’ll have another thimbleful of punch,” said the bass viol.
“It’s uncommon good, and does credit to all parties’
.pm start_poem
‘Come let’s drink, and drown all sorrow,
For perchance we may not’
For perchance we may not meet here to-morrow.’”
.pm end_poem
Then the hautboy trolled out’
.pm start_poem
“‘He that goes to bed, goes to bed sober
Falls as the leaves does’
Falls as the leaves does’in October.’”
.pm end_poem
.bn 088.png
.pn +1
“Someone must ha’ done it,” observed the clarionet.
“Of course some one did,” said Pepperill, “and when folk
begin yarnin’ lies, you ain’t got to go far to find the evil-doer.”
“That’s true,” was the chorus.
“And no one was at the Cellars at the time but one or
two persons,” said the clarionet.
“One was Jason Quarm,” said Pasco; “and burnt he
was not, as was proved by the constable.”
“I don’t know,” said the second fiddle. “The fire was
so tremendous hot, and lasted so tremendous long, it would
ha’ burned a fatter man nor Jason Quarm.”
“Jason’s not burnt. He’s runned away.”
“Runned away?”
“Yes,” pursued Pasco; “’cos he didn’t want to have to
give evidence as to what he knew.”
“What wor that?”
“He comed to the Cellars, and found someone there
doin’ of the wickedness, and he runned away so as not to
have to say what he didn’t want to be forced to say.”
“What was that?”
“It’s not for me to speak!”
“Someone did it! who could ha’ done it?” said the
clarionet. “I thought it wor proved, if I may be so bould,
that you, Mr. Churchwarden, comed back to the Cellars.”
“I?” exclaimed Pasco, becoming purple in the face.
“It suited somebody’s convenience to say so, but I was in
the linhay minding the hoss, and I put it to the company’no
one can be in two places at once, can they?”
“There’s something in that.”
.bn 089.png
.pn +1
“I was minding the hoss, but I sent somebody back to
lock up. I name no names, and she’s gone and put it on
me to clear herself.”
The eyebrows of all the instrumentalists went up.
“Kitty? What! Kitty Alone?”
“I name no names,” said Pasco; “but I must say this
to clear myself. I’ve borne hard words too long for the
sake of sheltering she. The schoolmaster heard her father
lecturing of her for what she’d done.”
“But she wouldn’t do it out of pure wickedness,” urged
the clarionet; “and what reason had she?”
“There it is,” answered Pasco. “I see I’m among
friends, and it won’t go no farther. I’d been speaking to
her rather sharp for her goings-on with young men, drawin’
on Jan Pooke, then kicking him over, then Noah Flood,
and same with he. Noah, poor fellow, was took cruel bad
along of she’ever since Ashburton fair had a pain in the
stomach; if that ain’t love, show me what love is. Then
she took up with that schoolmaster chap, and when I said
I wouldn’t have it, and I wasn’t going to have the family
disgraced wi’ bringing schoolmasters into it, she cut rusty,
and sulked, and I believe it were naught but spite.”
“But,” observed the clarionet, “the tale I was told of
what the schoolmaster said wasn’t quite that.”
“You are right there,” said Pasco. “He’d alter his tale
when he found what she’d been about. As is nat’ral. I put
it to the company, if you was sweetheartin’, and you found
your love had been up to wickedness, you wouldn’t tell
tales of her, but would do all you could to screen her.”
.bn 090.png
.pn +1
“That’s true,” was the general opinion.
“And you think Jason see’d her, and made off?” said
the bassoon.
“That explains everything,” observed the violoncello.
“I begin to see daylight,” remarked the hautboy.
At that moment, in rushed the first violin, waving the
score above his head.
“I’ve got it!” he said. “Nothing easier. It wasn’t no
fault o’ Puddicombe, he said it were our stoopidity.
‘What does largo molto con affettuoso caprizio mean?’ he
asked. ‘Largo molto, turn the score upside down, con
affettuoso caprizio, and go ahead like blazes!’”
.bn 091.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XLVI | A TRIUMPH
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
The fumes of the punch had been dissipated, not only
from the room of the Lamb and Flag, but also from
the brain of the orchestra.
The bassoon’s scruples revived; he was still grateful
for the punch, but resentful for the headache it had
produced.
The several points brought out by the clarionet, that
provoking advocate for Pasco, who asked awkward questions
and propounded awkward suggestions, stood twinkling like
sparks in tinder. The bassoon thought that punch, good
thing though it might be, did but momentarily overflow,
and did not drown, doubts. It darkened the burning
questions, but did not quench them. The disappearance
of Quarm was not satisfactorily explained. The coincidence
of the voiding of the Cellars conveniently for the fire, was
not explained. The contradiction between the statements
made by the uncle and the niece was unsifted. The
bassoon grunted in his bed a grunt of dissatisfaction with
himself for having yielded his opinions, a grunt of resentment
against Pasco for having obfuscated his clear
.bn 092.png
.pn +1
judgment, a grunt of resolve never again to allow his
opinions to give way before punch. Conscience, that
capricious factor, which had pricked him in one direction
last night, pricked him in another this morning.
The hautboy, also, was out of tune. On review of the
events of the past night, he considered that the entry of
Pasco was an unwarrantable intrusion. The rule was well
known that during a practice of the orchestra no one
should be admitted. Pepperill had entered uninvited, had
forced himself into their society, and he must have done
that for a purpose. For what purpose but to cajole, to
hoodwink them?
In vain is the net spread in the sight of any bird. The
hautboy was a very wideawake and watchful bird, and he
saw the meshes clearly. In vain is the hook cast in clear
water; and the medium was so transparent that the
hautboy plainly saw the hook. He resolved to maintain
an independent, observant attitude, to form his own
opinion, not accept ready-made views served up to him
with punch. When before had the churchwarden favoured
the village orchestra with punch? Never’since Pasco had
been churchwarden. Never when in a private capacity.
Only when popular feeling became suspicious or hostile, did
he show himself free-handed. His present liberality told
against him.
The violoncello also entered into commune with himself.
Was there any chance of another brew? Would another
bowl of punch be produced to keep up the favourable
opinion formed on the preceding evening, or would a
.bn 093.png
.pn +1
mistrustful attitude act as a stimulant to excite greater
liberality? One brew of punch was not much, it prepared
the soil, a second would sow the seed, a third make it
germinate, a fourth develop, and only a fifth fructify conviction
in the integrity of the provider.
The words spoken by Pepperill relative to Kate had
spread. The orchestra confided them to their spouses, and
the wives whispered them to their intimates. There arose
in Coombe-in-Teignhead two rival factions. One party
contended that Pasco was guilty, the other argued that
Kitty had fired the storehouse. The advantage of the
latter view was that it explained what was otherwise inexplicable’the
disappearance of Quarm. The story was
worked into shape; it was elaborated in detail. Kitty, of
a morose and vindictive nature, had been exasperated
because her uncle had forbidden her engagement to the
schoolmaster. Kitty had never been as other girls were.
Her reserve was slyness, her bashfulness sulkiness. Her
schoolfellows had disliked her. Their mothers shared the
feelings of their daughters. As the proverb says, “Still
waters run deep,” and of the stillness of Kitty there could
be no question.
The dislike entertained of Kitty had been vague and
unreasonable. Now a reason was supplied, and consistency
given to what had been shapeless.
It was suspicious that Kitty had volunteered the statement
relative to her being left in the linhay before she had
been asked questions relative to her whereabouts. Why
should she have blurted this out to Jan Pooke and
.bn 094.png
.pn +1
Rose Ash, but for the purpose of throwing dust in their
eyes?
Kitty had been unwarrantably forward in telling her tale,
and the schoolmaster unwarrantably reticent relative to his
experience. Why did the schoolmaster refuse to speak out
what he had seen and heard at Coombe Cellars, on that
eventful night. The reason was plain enough. He did
not desire to compromise Kitty. But it was clear what
had occurred. She had been sent back to the Cellars by
her uncle, and there her malignant spirit had induced her,
out of revenge, to set fire to her uncle’s stores. Her father
had come on her red-handed, and had rebuked her sharply.
That was what the schoolmaster had overheard. Then
Quarm, finding it too late to undo the mischief done by
his daughter, afraid to call in neighbours to his aid, lest
Kitty should be compromised, had made his escape.
There were a thousand other ways by which he might get
away besides crossing the Teign. No one had thought of
that. Every one had considered only whether he had
crossed by ferry or by bridge. There were a score of lanes
at the back of Coombe by which he might get away
unperceived. All attention and investigation had been
devoted to the water, and every other means of evasion
left unconsidered.
Thus was the case worked out against Kitty. It assumed
deeper colouring when it was remembered that she had
allowed Roger Redmore to escape when entrusted with the
charge of him by Jan Pooke, and Jan had said that as he
left Roger he could not free himself, without Kate’s
.bn 095.png
.pn +1
consent. It was noted, also, that she had, as her uncle
had told, deliberately and of malice prepense, frustrated the
efforts he made to catch the incendiary at Dart-meet.
She had, moreover, induced her father to give up his
house to Jane Redmore. Birds of a feather flock together’and
surely fireflies are actuated by mutual sympathy.
On the other hand, the party that held Pepperill to be
guilty were not silent. Who was the gainer by the fire?
Pasco, to the amount of twelve hundred pounds. Was it
not certain that he had been greatly embarrassed for money?
that a bill of his had just been dishonoured? Was it not
just as probable that his story was false as that of Kate?
Was it she who sent away Zerah across the water? Who
persuaded Pasco to drive in the direction of Newton? Did
not all his proceedings on that eventful evening show a
deep-laid plan? And so on.
The pros and cons were thrashed and re-thrashed over
the tavern table and the ale-mugs, and over the tea in
private houses. Hardly any other topic occupied men’s
minds and women’s mouths, till suddenly something
happened which silenced everyone.
The insurance company had refused payment, and the
solicitor of the company sent down an agent to Coombe
that he might collect information which might justify them
in their refusal. At once all became mum. No one knew
anything, no one suspected anybody. Nothing had happened
but what was natural and easily accounted for. This change
was due to the fact that there is, and more than half a
century ago there was, a strong esprit de corps in a secluded
.bn 096.png
.pn +1
village, that resented any intrusion of a stranger into its
affairs. The rural mind is naturally suspicious, and naturally
mistrusts anyone not intimately known, and regards any
questions asked as something to be evaded, and on no
account to be answered.
When, accordingly, the agent came among the Coombe-in-Teignheadites,
and busied himself in cross-examining the
people, they snapped their mouths as an oyster snaps before
a lobster; or they may be likened to hedgehogs that rolled
themselves up and presented nothing but prickles to the
inquirer intruding in their midst. Never in his life had the
man come among people like these; they neither saw with
their eyes, nor heard with their ears, nor thought with what
they called their brains.
Pasco took no measures to protect himself. He knew his
fellow-villagers well enough to be sure that they would say
nothing against him.
After a week spent in unprofitable investigation, the agent
retired. At once the whole place woke up. Everyone
uncoiled, every mouth opened, and every brain worked
again. The rival factions recommenced their warfare, and
the difference in opinion became poignant.
In due course the case of Pepperill against the insurance
company came off, or rather, was announced to come off.
Pepperill was full of consequence.
He had felt acutely that suspicion hung about him like a
cloud which he could not dissipate. Men who had hitherto
courted his society now avoided him. The rector was
especially cold in demeanour towards him. The orchestra
.bn 097.png
.pn +1
remained divided in opinion, agreed only in desire for more
punch. When, after church, he approached a group at the
graveyard gate that was in eager conversation, his approach
silenced the talkers and broke up the conclave. He was
certain that he had been their topic. Hands that had
formerly been extended to him now remained buried in
trousers-pockets. Voices that had given him the good-day
now withheld salutations. Customers were reluctant to deal
with him. His appearance in the bar of the Lamb and Flag
induced a hasty rise, a payment of shot, and a departure of
all save sodden topers. By no other means were they to
be retained save by the offer of drink at his expense. When
he bragged, his boasts fell flat; when he joked, none laughed.
In ill-humour and uneasy, Pasco departed for Exeter.
The case, however, never got into court. At the last
moment the Company, convinced it had no grounds to go
upon, agreed to pay.
This was a triumph for Pepperill. He deferred his return
to Coombe for a week, that the news might be carried to
everyone there, and have time to ripen in the somewhat
sluggish brains of the natives, and produce the effect he
anticipated.
The triumph of Pepperill was more than his own individual
triumph. When the tidings had well soaked in, then Coombe
awoke to the knowledge that the entire parish had achieved
a victory, and that over an influential, moneyed, and powerful
society. Whether Pepperill was guilty or not guilty was
immaterial. The fact remained that a little parish like
Coombe, by its representative, Pasco, its churchwarden, had
.bn 098.png
.pn +1
stood up face to face with the capital of the county, represented
by the insurance company, and that the latter had
cringed and acknowledged defeat without daring to measure
arms. That was something unheard of heretofore. If
Coombe-in-Teignhead were not proud of its doughty
champion, then it would cover itself with disgrace. The
situation was discussed in the bar of the Lamb and Flag,
and a self-constituted committee formed to celebrate this
momentous achievement. The rector was to be solicited
to have a special service, at which Puddicombe in F would
be performed and a sermon preached. The rector had a
service on Saints’ Day, attended only by a few old women.
Who cared for the saints? But Pepperill’who had extorted
one thousand two hundred pounds from the insurance company’that
was the sort of man to honour, and the service
in his honour would be attended by all Coombe. The bells
should be rung. There had been a disturbance with the
parson about the right to the belfry on the occasion of
Puddicombe’s return. The parish must assert and maintain
its right to ring the bells when it chose, and defy the rector
if he objected.
As was feared, Mr. Fielding raised objections to both the
thanksgiving service and to the peal of bells. Thereupon
ensued another meeting in the bar.
Now Mr. Pooke, senior, came forward. He had been
opposed to Mr. Pepperill; he had disapproved of his
conduct. But when it came to a matter of ringing of
bells, he felt that a principle was involved. If once the
parishioners yielded that point, they might as well yield
.bn 099.png
.pn +1
everything, and be priest-ridden. There were two church-wardens;
Pasco Pepperill was one, Mr. Ash, the miller, was
the other, having succeeded at Lady-Day to Whiteaway, the
grocer. Let Mr. Ash insist on the bells being rung, and
if the rector withheld the key, then let him authorise the
blacksmith to break open the door. He, Yeoman Pooke,
would back him up.
They could not force Mr. Fielding to preach a sermon,
but that didn’t matter; they’d have music, and have it in
the road, and escort Pasco Pepperill home to the strains of
Puddicombe in F.
Carried by acclamation.
.bn 100.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XLVII | PARTED
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
If anything had been needed to clinch in Pasco Pepperill
the sense of his conduct being irreproachable, the ovation
on his return to Coombe-in-Teignhead would have
served this purpose; but nothing was necessary after that
the insurance office had thrown up the ball. The retirement
of the Company from the contest, and the payment of
the money for which his stores were insured, acted on his
conscience as much as would a plenary papal absolution on
that of a Roman Catholic.
Previous to this his conscience had given occasional
twitches, now it glowed with conscious sense of righteousness.
It was vexed with neither qualm nor scruple. He
held his head higher, boasted louder, strutted with more
consequence, and became impatient and offended at his
wife’s maintaining her distance. He might deceive himself,
deceive the world, but he could not blind her, and this
made him angry. He was slighted in his home, where he
had best claims for recognition.
He was, moreover, disappointed that there was so little
real enthusiasm for himself at the back of the demonstration,
.bn 101.png
.pn +1
which was organised rather in honour of the parish
than of himself. The same suspicion attended him, the
same reluctance to deal with him, and the same indifference
to his society.
The demonstration was destined not to pass without
leaving some unpleasant consequences.
At the urgency of Farmer Pooke, Miller Ash, the second
churchwarden, had forced the belfry door and admitted the
ringers, and authorised them to give a peal of welcome to
the returning conqueror.
Mr. Fielding was of a mild and kindly disposition, but he
was a stickler in matters of discipline, and he could not
suffer this high-handed conduct to pass unquestioned. Ash
was cited before the archdeacon, and legal proceedings were
instituted to establish the sole right of the incumbent to
order when and by whom the bells should be rung. Ash
was dismayed at the prospect of a suit. He attempted to
fall back on Pooke, but found that Pooke was by no means
inclined to find money for the defence.
Mr. Fielding was reluctant to proceed against a parishioner
and a churchwarden, and a man eminently worthy, but he
considered that it would be a neglect of duty not to do so.
Twice had he been defied, and twice had the bells been
rung on improper occasions. He was aware that his action
must produce ill-feeling against himself, but he was too
conscientious a man to allow this consideration to weigh
with him. Nothing is easier than for a man in authority
to court popularity by giving way at every point. Mr.
Fielding did not desire popularity, and he did not believe
.bn 102.png
.pn +1
that in discharging a duty he would interfere with his
ministerial influence in the place.
And, in fact, Ash did not so much resent the action of
the rector as the unreliability of Pooke’a man who had
urged him to act, and had promised to take the responsibility
on himself for such action; a man whose son was
about to marry his own daughter. Ash was bitter at heart,
in the first line with Pooke, and the second with Pepperill,
for having occasioned this affair. If Pepperill had never
insured, never had allowed his warehouse to be burnt,
never had confronted the Company, this unpleasantness
would not have arisen; and only in the third line did his
resentment touch the rector. Moreover, Pooke was discontented
and uncomfortable. He was well aware that he
was morally responsible for the infraction of the belfry,
but he would not admit it, lest it should cost him money.
Pooke was a man ready to admit a moral obligation up
to ten-and-six; not a penny beyond. He allowed that the
parson was in the right to stick out for his authority, and
if the law gave him command of the bell-ropes’well,
he was justified in trying to obtain it. But it was
Pasco Pepperill who was really to blame. He ought not
to have delayed his return from Exeter. Why did he stick
at that city for seven whole days after he had got what he
wanted? Had he come flying home by the Atmospheric
the day he received payment, there would have been no
demonstration. By dawdling in Exeter, he allowed time
for the organisation of a demonstration, and he did not
deserve one, Heaven knew! So Pooke’s self-reproach
.bn 103.png
.pn +1
converted itself into anger against Pepperill. In the
physical world all forces are correlated, and it is so in
the world of feeling. Love becomes hate, and joy turns
into grief, and, as we have seen, compunction glances
away from self and converts itself into a sting aimed at
another.
Kitty’s position in the place became one full of discomfort.
Not only was she regarded as guilty of the fire
by one body of the inhabitants, but she had given offence
to others by her engagement to the schoolmaster.
Walter Bramber was not merely a pleasant-looking man,
but a good-looking one as well, and several young and
middle-aged women in the place had set their caps at
him.
One of these was the distorted milliner, designed for
him by his landlady, and encouraged by her in hopes of
exchanging her condition of maid without a home for wife
in the schoolhouse. This person went about to all the
farmhouses making garments for the farmers’ wives and
daughters, and was able, without allowing it to transpire
that she had aspired to Bramber, to stir up a good deal
of ill-feeling against Kitty, who had been lucky where she
had failed.
Another was a good-looking wench with a flaw in her
reputation, who had hoped that the new-comer would be
ignorant of her past history, and would succumb to her
charms, and enable her to repair her faulty character out
of the respectability of the position she would acquire.
Another, a damsel of erratic ecclesiasticism, who became
.bn 104.png
.pn +1
a Particular Baptist or an Anglican Churchwoman, according
as desirable young men attended chapel or church.
The last was a widow on a nice income of her own,
some twenty years Bramber’s senior, who had made up her
mind to marry again, and marry a young man.
Pasco was subjected to passive suspicions, Kate to active
hostility. The art of ingeniously tormenting is one that
men are too dull to acquire, and too clumsy to exercise.
It is an art easily exercised and rapidly perfected by
women. In a hundred ways Kate was annoyed by those
of her own sex in Coombe; and these were ways skilfully
contrived to excite the maximum of pain. She endeavoured
to keep entirely to herself, but this was beyond
her power. No mosquito curtains have been contrived
which a person can draw about himself as a protection
against malignant and poisonous tongues.
Without malicious interest’on the contrary, with the
kindest desire for Kate’s welfare’Rose Ash interfered
and caused her the greatest distress.
Rose had set her mind on matching Kate with Noah;
she by no means approved of the engagement to Walter
Bramber. A girl like Kate, enjoying her friendship, might
look higher, do better than throw herself away on a two-penny-ha’penny
schoolmaster, of whose origin nobody knew
anything; and when Rose took an idea into her head, she
left no stone unturned till she had carried it out.
She visited Kate, she assured her that a union with
Bramber was out of the question. There was so strong a
feeling against her in the place that, were she to marry the
.bn 105.png
.pn +1
schoolmaster, it would damage his prospects. The farmers
would withdraw their subscriptions from the school, and
the parents refuse to send their children to be educated
there.
“Of course,” said Rose, “I don’t believe you burnt the
warehouse, but a lot of people in the place do. Some say
you did it out of spite, because your uncle wouldn’t let
you have the schoolmaster; others say he sent you back
to set the wares alight, being too much of a coward to do
it himself. I know better’but folks won’t listen to me.
I don’t see how you can put the notion out of them but
by marrying Noah. He’s related to nearly everyone in
the place, and if you became his wife, you see, all the
relations of Noah would take your part; they’d be bound
to do it. Noah is a good fellow, and he’s terribly in love’got
a pain under his ribs, and walks bent’all along of
love. You’d best chuck over the schoolmaster and stop
their mouths with Noah. There’s no other way of doin’
it.”
“You really think that my engagement to Walter
Bramber will injure him?”
“If it goes on, he may as well leave the place. It
would be made too hot to hold him. You see, Kitty, the
Coombites ha’ never taken much to him’he bain’t like
Mr. Puddicombe in nothing. But they might get used
to him and put up wi’ him. If you go on holding him
to his engagement, then’what everyone says is’he
must go.”
Zerah, moreover, sought to influence her niece. She
.bn 106.png
.pn +1
was a selfish woman, and now that she had opened her
heart to Kitty, she was jealous of anyone else claiming a
share in the girl. Moreover, she could not endure to live
at the Cellars if left there alone with Pasco, of that she
was convinced. She therefore extorted a promise from
Kate not to leave her.
Kitty had become more than ever thoughtful, and was
nervous and depressed in spirits. She could not clear
herself of this suspicion that attached to her without
incriminating her uncle, and she greatly doubted whether
her word would avail against his. She could not hear
anything of her father, the same mystery enveloped his
fate unrelieved. She would have liked to pour her troubles
into the ear of Walter, but her uncle had forbidden his
coming to the house, and she would not go and seek
him, observed, watched by all, and everything she did
subject to misconstruction. Kate’s time was more at
her disposal than formerly, as Jane Redmore came in
charing. This was a disadvantage to her, so far that
it allowed her time to brood over her troubles and annoyances.
After Rose had gone, she went on the water side
of the house and seated herself on the parapet above
the rippling inflowing tide, with her head sunk on her
bosom.
Presently the tears began to course down her cheeks.
She had not been seated there long before the timid, feeble
Jane Redmore came fluttering out to her, looking over
her shoulder as she came. The woman touched her:
.bn 107.png
.pn +1
“I wouldn’t take on so,” she said. “You ain’t sure
Jason Quarm’s dead, you know. He wasn’t found, and
for why?”
Kate looked at the poor woman with tear-filled eyes.
“I can’t say nothin’,” said Mrs. Redmore hastily.
“Only’there’it makes me bad to see you cry, it do, and
I reckon there’s no reason.”
Then she slipped back in the same wavering, timid
manner to the kitchen, without another word.
But Kate’s distress of mind was not due solely, as the
woman believed, to her anxiety concerning the fate of her
father. She had been debating in her heart whether she
ought to continue her engagement with Bramber, and,
perhaps, never had Kitty felt how truly she was “alone”
as now, when she had satisfied herself that for his sake it
were well for her to release him.
She stood up, when her purpose was formed, and walked
quietly, firmly, to the Rectory. One friend she had there,
ever faithful’the parson. He knew that she was innocent,
he alone could appreciate her difficulties, and he would
approve her determination.
She entered the study where he was at work on a sermon.
He smiled, and his face brightened when he saw her, and
he signed to a chair.
Kate, direct, clear, and firm in all she said and did, told
the rector of her intention. She informed him of what he
knew already, that a body of feeling was engaged against
her, that she was incapable of establishing her innocence.
That, under the circumstances, it was out of the question
.bn 108.png
.pn +1
her holding Walter Bramber to his promise. She had,
furthermore, passed her word to her aunt not to leave her.
Mr. Fielding, though disappointed, saw that under the
circumstances nothing could be done; and he felt that
Kate was acting honourably and in accordance with her
conscience. He knew, therefore, he must not dissuade
her from obedience to that inner voice. He took a more
hopeful view than did she, and this he expressed.
“If things change, then no harm has been done,” said
Kate. “I have to say what is in my mind as made up on
things as they are. Will you be so kind, sir, as to speak
to Walter?”
“I see him coming in at the gate,” said Mr. Fielding.
“He is with me about this time every day for a Greek
lesson’a bit of New Testament in the original
tongue.”
Kate stood up.
“Yes,” said he. “You go to meet him at the mulberry
tree.”
The girl left quietly and composedly, as she had entered,
and, crossing the lawn, came on the young man just as he
reached the bench under the mulberry.
“Walter,” she said, “I want a word with you. Have you
a knife?”
“Yes; why?”
“Will you cut this in the mulberry bark? Mr. Fielding
will not object’
.pm start_poem
‘O Tree, defying time, witness bear,
That two’”’
.pm end_poem
.bn 109.png
.pn +1
.ti 0
She hesitated, slightly coloured’
.pm start_poem
“‘That two friends met and parted here.’”
.pm end_poem
“What do you mean, Kitty?”
“Ask the rector’he will tell you all.”
Then hastily, unable further to control herself, she passed
him, and left the garden.
.bn 110.png
.pn +1
CHAPTER XLVIII
A SHADOW-SHAPE
Kate walked at once to the house of Mr. Puddicombe,
and, without giving any reasons, announced to him
that the engagement to Walter Bramber was at an end.
She calculated on his publishing the fact, but she had not
calculated on his inventing and promulgating reasons of his
own supposition for explaining the rupture. According to
him, she had formed a preference for Noah Flood, and
regarded an alliance with Noah more to her advantage
than one with a person of whose origin nothing was known,
and whose prospects were uncertain. One of the first to
hear the news was Rose Ash, and she made an excursion
immediately to the house of the Floods, where Noah lived
with his mother, a widow. The Floods were a well-to-do
yeoman family, with land of their own. The father of Noah
had died three years previous to the events recorded in this
tale. Noah was the only child, and had been the idol of his
mother. That he should seek a wife, she admitted, was
natural. She would greatly have preferred his taking someone
of more position and means, and in greater favour than
Kitty Alone, but she was accustomed to regard everything
.bn 111.png
.pn +1
her son did as right, and she would not offer any opposition
to what he determined on. As Rose Ash was not to be
won, he might take Kitty; though she would have vastly
preferred Rose. The old woman was, it is true, made
uneasy by the reports relative to Kitty and the fire at the
Cellars, but her son knew how to set her mind at rest, by
ridiculing them as idle and baseless, bred of malice or
stupidity.
Rose was really energetic on behalf of Kitty. She did
brave battle for her, and combated every adverse opinion.
She was thoroughly resolved to forward the match between
Noah and Kate, and now that the field was cleared of the
schoolmaster, she hurried to the house of the Floods to spur
on Noah to immediate action.
The evening was already closing in, and the house of the
Floods was at some distance out of Coombe; but Rose was
impulsive, and what she did was done in impulse. She was
generous, so far as did not interfere with her own prospects
and wishes and comforts. Mrs. Flood was her aunt,
and with her she was ever welcome. Noah was happily at
home when Rose arrived. She was not the girl to beat
about the bush, and she rushed at once upon the topic
uppermost in her mind.
“You must put on your hat at once, Noah, and come
with me. I’m going to the Cellars, and going to make all
right between you and Kitty. The time has arrived. The
door is ajar, and you must thrust your shoulder in before
it is shut. It’s off with the schoolmaster, and must be on
with you at once.”
.bn 112.png
.pn +1
“Noah hasn’t been hisself of late,” said Mrs. Flood.
“I don’t think he ought to be out with the dew falling
heavy.”
“Nonsense, Aunt Sally! it’s love,” said Rose. “The dew
won’t hurt. It’s his disappointment has upset him.”
“He’s been off his feed terrible,” said the mother;
“there is a nice piece of boiled bacon I’ve had cold, but he
don’t seem to relish it.”
“That’s love,” said Rose; “and I heard Mr. Pepperill
say that Noah had a pain under his ribs.”
“It’s like a hot pertater lodged here,” said Noah; “I can’t
get no rest at all from it.”
“That’s love also; I know it. I’ve had the same till Jan
came to his senses.”
“And I don’t seem to take no interest in the farm; do
I, mother?” asked Noah.
“Indeed you don’t, Noah.”
“That also is love,” said Rose; “we’ll soon put that to
rights.”
“I thought it was liver,” observed the mother; “and
that blue pill”’
“Oh, nothing of the sort,” interrupted Rose. “I know
all the symptoms: hot potato, distaste for biled bacon, and
indifference to farm affairs’it’s love; I had it all badly till
Jan came round. Love turns heavy on the chest, if disappointed.
That’s what Noah feels under his ribs. Come
on, Noah, take your hat, and we will go to the Cellars
together.”
Noah complied with as much alacrity as he was capable
.bn 113.png
.pn +1
of displaying. He was a docile youth; he had fallen in
love with Kitty, partly at Rose’s bidding, partly out of compunction
at his conduct at the fair.
That evening had closed in rapidly. There were dense
clouds overhead, so that the twilight was cut off, also all
danger of dew, as Rose at once pointed out to Mrs. Flood.
As, however, the mother feared her dear boy might get
wet in the event of rain, Noah was induced to take a
greatcoat.
The young man was shy and timid.
“You know, Rose, I treated her terrible bad at Ashburton,
when I knocked away the workbox from under her
arm.”
“She will like you all the better for it,” answered the girl.
“Young maidens like a lad of spirit, and you may be sure
it gave her pleasure to see you and Jan punching each
other’s heads. That schoolmaster! he ain’t up to nothing
but whacking childer with a cane. If you like, I’ll try and
egg him on to fight you, and then you can knock him all to
pieces; and there’s nothing surer for finding your way to
Kitty’s heart. If she’s like me, she’ll like to see lads
fighting about her.”
“You don’t think, Rose, she really had anything to do
wi’ the fire?”
“The fire?” snapped the girl. “No more than you or I.
Her uncle did it. He wanted the insurance money. That’s
a fine tale’that she set fire to the warehouse, because her
uncle wouldn’t hear of her marrying the schoolmaster’and
now, of her own accord, she throws the fellow over. If she
.bn 114.png
.pn +1
had been so set on him, she wouldn’t have done that. Can’t
you see, Noah, or are you stupid, that her giving up Mr.
Bramber is the best answer to that story? It shows it
could not have been. And then, as to that other tale,’that
Mr. Pepperill sent her back to set the place in a blaze,’no
one who knows Kitty can believe that. She’s not the
girl to do a wrong thing at anyone’s bidding. Besides, what
good would it have been to her?”
Noah did not answer.
“You can’t do better than go right up to her and ask her
to be yours’now. Everything is in your favour. Folk
talk a pass’l of nonsense and spiteful lies about her. It
makes her cruel unhappy. She’s been doing little else but
cry for some days. You show her you don’t mind one snap
what folks say, and you don’t believe a word o’ the lies
against her, and I tell you she’d jump into your arms. It’s
my belief that the schoolmaster turned nasty’that he
began to show her he thought there might be something in
it, that he knew people said they’d take away their subscription
if he married her, and he made it so unpleasant
for Kitty that she gave him up. And now you march in
and conquer.”
“I’ll do so,” said Noah.
“And,” pursued Rose, “you must begin by making
Kitty cry; that’s the preparing of the ground.”
“How am I to do that?”
“Talk about her father. Ask if she has heard any news
of him.”
“Why? it don’t seem kind to make her cry.”
.bn 115.png
.pn +1
“What a noodle you are, Noah! Nothing is more profitable
for what you intend than to get her into a crying
mood, regular soft and tender, and then pity her about her
father, and so out with it when she is in tears. That’s the
way to win her!”
Noah mused awhile, walking by the side of Rose, in
silence. After a minute he said, “What is your notion,
Rose? I mean about Jason Quarm. Is he dead or not?”
“Of course he is. Burnt to ashes.”
“But the ashes were not found.”
“My dear Noah, you saw the fire as well as I; you know
with what fury it burnt, and how it lasted three days. He
was no Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego all pounded into
one.”
“You really think he is dead?”
“Sure of it. Would he not have turned up and let folk
know he was alive, if he had not Would he
have allowed Kitty to go on’and not Kitty only, his sister
Zerah as well’all this long time, suffering and miserable,
because they believe he died a terrible death, if he could
relieve their minds by a letter, or, better still, by appearing?”
Suddenly Rose started, caught her cousin by the arm,
and drew back.
“What is the matter?” asked the young man.
“There is something there’moving’in the hedge.”
They were in a true Devonshire lane, with the hedges
high on each side, planted with trees that extended their
branches overhead, almost interlocking. Through the
.bn 116.png
.pn +1
boughs and leaves the grey sky glimmered, and the soil in
the lane here and there showed in the light from above, but
all was indistinct and dark. A turn in the lane, and a fork
beyond the turn, lay before them, and through one of the
lanes the light of the estuary reflecting the sky made a
partial gleam, as though that lane were a tube with ground
glass at the end.
Both remained motionless and listened.
“Hark!” whispered Rose; “did you hear something?”
“I heard you speaking.”
“Before I spoke’a clitter, as of a foot on stones.”
“Well, what of that? This is a road, and people may
go along it, I reckon.”
“Look’look!” gasped Rose, pointing down the funnel-like
lane, at the end of which was the light of the steely
water.
Rose maintained her grasp of Noah.
The young man looked in the direction indicated, and
both saw a figure in the vista, lurching as it went along, as
though lame; a thickset figure, as far as they could make
out in the uncertain light. In another moment it had
disappeared.
“Go after it!” said Rose, relaxing her hold.
“It? What do you mean?”
“That’s just like Jason Quarm.”
“But he’s dead. You said so.”
“I know he is, but that’s his ghost. Run, Noah, and
force it to speak. It’s walking, because it can’t rest wi’out
burial.”
.bn 117.png
.pn +1
“I won’t!” said Noah. “Go yourself.”
“You are a man. It’s vanished now. That’s the way to
the cottage he had, which Kitty gave up to the Redmores.
Oh, Noah, do run!”
“I’ll do nothing o’ the sort. Come on, Rose’we are
going along t’other lane, thanks be. Lord, that we should
ha’ seen a ghost! I shan’t be able to propose. I shall be
so terrible took aback.”
“Nonsense, Noah!”
“But consider’it’s terrible frightening to propose right
on end to a ghost’s daughter.”
.bn 118.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XLIX | FLAGRANTE DELICTO
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
Noah and Rose reached the Cellars just as Pasco and
his family were about to seat themselves to supper.
Pepperill somewhat boisterously welcomed them, and insisted
on their sharing the evening meal.
“You see,” said he, “it is dull here. Zerah ain’t much
in the way of entertainment, and Kitty be just as heavy.
Stupid place this, and stupid people; I shall get away as
soon as possible.”
“Going to leave the Cellars, Mr. Pepperill?” asked Rose.
“I don’t find this place lively enough for me, now I’m a
man of independent means. I want amusement, and can
get none here; society, and here no one can talk of anything
but bullocks.”
“I don’t know that,” said Noah; “there is the fire, everyone
is talking of that.”
Rose cast a reproachful glance at her cousin. His
remark made Pasco wince, and Zerah look down into her
plate.
“You see,” pursued Pepperill, “having come in for a
little property”’
.bn 119.png
.pn +1
“The insurance money?” asked the blundering Noah.
“My uncle’s little fortune,” answered Pasco hastily.
“There’s no occasion for me to toil and drudge like a slave
selling coals, and wool, and hides, and the like; so I think
I’ll take a little box somewhere near Exeter, somewhere
where I can amuse myself, and have agreeable neighbours.”
As soon as opportunity offered, Rose drew Kate aside
and said to her cheerily, “I have brought you Noah.”
“Noah! Why?”
“I heard you were off with the schoolmaster.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then it is high time you were on with another.”
“I want no one.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense! You must have Noah. He’s a
nice fellow and has a good property; besides, he is cruel
sweet on you.”
“Indeed, indeed, Rose, I wish to be left alone.”
“It won’t do, Kate. When the circus girl goes round
driving two horses, she skips off one back and on to another.
You can’t skip off one saddle wi’out another saddle to skip
into, that ain’t reason.”
“I am not a circus girl.”
“We all are going round and round in one ring, and
then comes a fool and holds up the hoop for us to go
through. Jack has been my clown, and Noah shall be
yours.”
“I do not wish it,” said Kate hastily. “I desire only to
be let alone.”
“My dear, I know what is best for you. I’ll call Noah.”
.bn 120.png
.pn +1
Kate sprang up. “I have to wash up after supper with
Mrs. Redmore,” she said, and hastened into the kitchen.
Rose was vexed. She returned to the others, and gave
Noah a sign to follow the girl; and he obeyed with his
usual docility. Then Rose began to propound her scheme
to the uncle and aunt, to explain Noah’s prospects and
dilate on his attachment for Kate. The aunt alone raised
objections, which Rose combated in the most airy manner.
Zerah doubted whether Kate felt any regard for Noah;
Rose was positive that this would come as a matter of
course, now that she was free from entanglement with
Bramber.
Pepperill said he would be glad, after what had happened,
to have Kate married and out of his house. Whereupon
Zerah caught him up and asked his meaning.
Before he could answer, Kitty came in trembling, and,
standing before Rose, asked, “What does he mean? Noah
says he has seen my father.”
Rose tossed her head, and cast an angry glance over
Kate’s shoulder at the stupid young man who was following.
“Noah is a blundering fellow,” she said, “and does not
know what he says. Your father! Do you think that if
we had seen him we would not at once have made him
come on here with us?”
“You told me”’began Noah apologetically.
“Whatever I may have said, you are too dull to understand,
and you turn everything cat-in-the-pan.”
Apparently satisfied, Kate prepared to go back into the
kitchen, and Noah would have followed her; but she stood
.bn 121.png
.pn +1
in the doorway and said firmly, “No, I do not wish to
have you in the kitchen. If you persist in following, I shall
pin a dish-clout to your back. Jane Redmore wants to get
home to her little ones, the night is dark as pitch. I must
help her to clean up, and we can have no one to interfere
with us; you nearly made me break a dish with what you
said just now.”
“Come here,” said Rose. “You are a duffer, and don’t
know how to manage”; and Noah obeyed, and seated himself
in the settle. Kate shut the kitchen door.
“What was that you said about my brother Jason?”
asked Zerah.
“It was nonsense,” answered Rose sharply.
“But Noah meant something, when he said he had seen
him.”
“Noah is a fool: are you not, Noah?”
“I suppose you know,” answered the young man
meekly.
“Tell me what it was that made Kate nigh on drop the
dish,” persisted Zerah, always a resolute woman to have
her way.
“It was nought but a parcel of nonsense,” said Rose
evasively.
“There must have been something,” persisted Zerah.
“Well, I don’t mind saying,” Rose replied,’“that is, if
you will hear’but it was fancy, I reckon.”
“What was fancy?”
“Thinking we saw him. I had told Noah to propose to
Kate, and to get her into proper humour for accepting, first
.bn 122.png
.pn +1
by making her cry, and then I told him he could make her
cry by speaking in a sort of sympathising way about her
father; and like an old buffle-head he went and said he
had seen his ghost.”
“His ghost?” exclaimed Zerah, and Pasco drew back
in the settle with a scared expression on his face.
“We were coming down the road from Noah’s, and
before us was the fork of the lane,” said Rose. “Well,
then, if you will hear all, Noah and me, us thought us see’d
someone in the lane as went towards Jane Redmore’s
cottage. The night was dark, but there was light at the
end of the lane because of the Teign, which was full of the
tide; and there was, sure enough, someone walking down
that road. Us see’d him, whoever he was. He walked like
a lapwing.”
“’Twas Jones Maker, the roadman,” said Pasco in a
voice that was not firm. “He’s lame.”
“He goes on a crutch,” answered Rose. “What we saw
was different, was it not so, Noah?”
“Yes,” assented the young man. “He walked lop o’
this side like, just the same as Jason Quarm.”
“’Twas Jonas Maker,” persisted Pasco.
“It can’t ha’ been Jonas,” answered Rose; “Jonas is
tall, and this we saw was stout and thickset.”
“Did he speak?” asked Zerah breathlessly. Pasco fidgeted
in his seat.
“No, he did not; us weren’t very near, and I axed Noah
to run on and catch him up, and ax him questions why he
walked, but he wouldn’t.”
.bn 123.png
.pn +1
“I reckon Mr. Pepperill would ha’ been shy to do that,”
growled Noah.
Then a dead silence fell on all; and in that dead silence
a sound like the tread of a man with a limp was audible,
coming up the steps to the door. Next as if a hand were
laid on the door-hasp, and all saw that the latch was
raised, and cautiously lowered, without the door being
opened. Then ensued the halting hobble down the steps
again.
No one stirred. Every face was blank. Possibly one of
those present would have started up and gone to the door
to look forth into the black night, but at this moment Kate
entered, and, going up to a crook, took down a lantern.
“Jane Redmore is going home,” she said, “and she’s
axed me just to show her off the premises and into the
lane, with a light; it’s too dark to find the way at once,
when one has been in the room with plenty of light.”
Kate opened the lantern and looked in.
“There is a candle,” she said, and proceeded to
ignite it.
Rose looked at Noah, and Noah at Rose.
“I think,” said the girl, “we will ask you, Kate, to
show us a light on our way presently, after you have put
Jane Redmore into hers.”
“I will do so cheerfully,” answered Kitty, and went
back with the lighted lantern into the kitchen to fetch
Jane. Then the two passed through the room where the
rest sat, and Mrs. Redmore wished them all a good-night.
Silence ensued after the door was shut. The glitter of
.bn 124.png
.pn +1
the lantern was visible through the window for a moment,
and then disappeared.
Pasco looked uneasily at the door. He was the first
to break silence. “I wish you to know,” said he, “that
if you marry Kitty, Noah, you do not take a beggar. On
the contrary, you take an heiress.”
“How do you make that out?” asked Zerah.
“Kitty is not of my blood,” said Pasco, gaining firmness,
“but I have no relations of my own, and I intend to treat
Kitty as my child. Noah, you marry an heiress.”
“What will you give her?” asked Zerah.
“Great expectations,” answered Pasco pompously.
“I don’t count much on expectations,” said his wife
contemptuously. “Give her something down.”
“I’ll do better than that,” said Pasco. “I’ll make my
will and constitute her my heir.”
“That’s moonshine and tall talk,” scoffed Zerah.
“It is nothing of the sort,” said Pasco. “Here you are,
Rose and Noah, and I’ll make my will before you, and you
shall witness it. Then Noah will know what he takes,
when he takes Kitty.”
Zerah looked at her husband with surprise. This was
the first intimation she had received that he intended to
do anything for his niece. She did not see deep enough
into his heart to read his reasons. At that moment he
was alarmed and uneasy at the story of the apparition of
Jason Quarm, whom he knew to be dead, and then at the
mysterious tread and the raising of the hasp of the door.
He was not a superstitious man, but the guilt on his soul
.bn 125.png
.pn +1
made him subject to terrors. He thought that the spirit
of the man he had brought to his death might be walking,
and would trouble him, not only on account of the wrong
done to him, but also to his daughter. In his mean mind
Pasco hoped that by constituting Kitty heir to all he
possessed, he might lay the troubled spirit of her father.
“I will do it at once,” said Pepperill, opening his desk
and drawing forth ink and pen and paper, and laying them
on the table.
“I will show you that I understand legal forms,’I keep
a solicitor of my own,’and that I am the man who can
deal generously and with a free hand. I, Pasco Pepperill
of Coombe Cellars, being in sound condition of mind and
body”’
He wrote the words, then looked round complacently
and added, “I bequeath to my niece, Kate Quarm, the
sum of three thousand pounds. Three thousand pounds,”
repeated Pasco, looking round. “Also to my wife Zerah,
two thousand pounds and my house at Coombe Cellars,
and my house property at Tavistock, inherited from my
uncle,”’he turned his head consequentially to look at
Noah, then at Rose,’“during the term of her natural life.”
“What do you mean by natural life?” asked Zerah.
“It is an expression always used,” answered Pasco.
“It is nonsense,” said Zerah, “If there be a natural life,
there must be one which is unnatural.”
“It means, plain as Scripture,” replied Pasco, “that you
may have my house as long as your nat’ral life lasts, and
after that lie quiet in your grave, and not walk and bother
.bn 126.png
.pn +1
people. Your right to the house is tied up to your nat’ral
life. That’s the meaning o’ that there legal term. It stops
and prevents all after unpleasantness.”
“Now I understand,” said Zerah. “But you need not
get hot over it.”
“I’m not hot, but some folk be stupid and understand
nothing. Now I will proceed. After my wife’s decease,’that’s
the legal term for death,’then all goes to my niece,
or reputed niece, the aforesaid Kate Quarm. This is my
last will and testament, and true act and deed. Here you
see me sign it. Now then, Rose Ash, and you, Noah
Flood, witness my signature. You, Zerah, cannot, because
you are beneficially affected.”
Mr. Pepperill had completely recovered his self-consequence
and his courage. He had shown Noah that he
was a man of means, a man with house property, a man
of capital as well, and he had eased his conscience by
making satisfaction for the wrong he had done to Kate.
As soon as Pasco had seen the young people witness
his signature, he handed the will to Zerah. “There, wife,
keep it.”
At that moment the door was thrown open, and Kate
entered, and stood by the table, with changes of expression
flying over her countenance, like flaws of wind on the face
of a pool.
She put down the lantern on the board.
“Why, Kitty, the light is out!” said Zerah, and opened
the horn door. “Why, Kitty, where be the candle to?
She’s gone.”
.bn 127.png
.pn +1
At that moment, a flare that illumined the entire room,
a sheet of light, entering by door and window.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Pasco, springing up. “My
rick.” Then with a scream of triumph, as he pointed with
one hand to Kate, with the other to the lantern, “I told
you so, now you will believe me. Caught in the act.”
.bn 128.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER L | THE THIRD FIRE
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
The light poured into the room like a flood, yellow as
sunlight, and more intense in brilliancy. Kitty
standing at the table had her face in shadow. Pasco
opposite was as a mass of gold. The fire glittered in his
eyeballs, it flashed in the new heavy gold watch-chain that
he had purchased in Exeter.
“Now’now I shall be believed. Now’now the world
will know how falsely I have been judged. Now’now is
revealed what a viper I have nu’ssed at my hearth.”
“We had best go and put out the fire,” said Noah, and
he went to the door, to see that no possibility existed of
arresting the flames. The rick was all but enveloped as in
a blazing sheet that was drawing round it to meet at the
only side which was dark. Little wind blew, so that the
flame poured up in one tongue.
Voices could be heard, loud shouts in the village, where
the conflagration had attracted attention, and had broken
up the session of the orchestra. The bassoon was braying
a loud note, prolonged and hideous, to rouse such as were
behind curtains, and did not observe the glare.
.bn 129.png
.pn +1
“How did this come about?” asked Rose, catching
Kate by the arm.
“I’I cannot say. I cannot say,” answered the girl
addressed; “but, indeed, I am not guilty.”
“Is it insured?” asked Noah.
“No, it is not insured,” answered Pasco triumphantly.
“I hope now you won’t go and say I did it’and that I did
it to get money out of a company.”
Except the words recorded, nothing further was spoken.
The little party was too dismayed at the occurrence, and at
the prospect of what must spring from it, to stir, to speak.
It was in vain to think of doing aught to the rick. No
outbuilding was endangered. An attempt to tear down the
stack would result in spreading the fire.
Then in at the door burst the constable.
“Halloo! what is the meaning of this?” he shouted.
“Insured again?”
“I am not insured,” answered Pepperill. “If you want
to arrest the culprit’there she is.”
“How came this about?” asked Pooke. “I’m not going
to arrest nobody without a cause.”
“There is cause enough,” said Pasco. “Kitty is the
person who has set fire to my rick. I have plenty of
evidence for that. And now that I have, you’ll all see I’m
innocent’white as driven snow.”
“What is the meaning of this?” asked the constable,
turning Kitty about that the blaze might illumine her face.
In the yellow glare it could be seen that she was deathlike
in complexion, and that her eyes were wide distended in
.bn 130.png
.pn +1
terror. She trembled, and seemed unable to stand without
the support of the table.
“I’ll tell you all,” said Pasco majestically, “and then,
perhaps, Mr. Pooke, you’ll believe my word in preference
to that of such as she.”
“What is it?” asked Pooke. “I’ll not arrest nobody
without good cause shown, as satisfies my judgment. I
said so before.”
“Look at that lantern,” said Pasco.
“Well, I sees it.”
“Open it. There’s no candle in it’is there? But
there was’a quarter of an hour ago.”
Numerous voices were now audible around the burning
rick. The constable looked out, and hesitated whether to
go forth and ensure order without, or to hear what had to
be said within.
He saw that there was not much chance of further
mischief, the intensity of the fire kept everyone at a distance.
“Go on,” said he. “What have you to say against the
girl?”
“She was in the kitchen with Jane Redmore. And Jane
Redmore asked her to go along with she on her way home,
wi’ a lantern, because of the pitch darkness. Was it not so,
Zerah?”
“I can’t say. I wasn’t in the kitchen,” answered Mrs.
Pepperill reluctantly.
“Was it as he says?” asked the constable, turning to Kate.
“Yes.” Then suddenly, she woke out of a condition of
almost stupefaction; and throwing herself on her knees
.bn 131.png
.pn +1
before her uncle, she entreated, “Do not say that I
did it!”
“I leave that to the magistrate, when he tries, and
commits you to prison.”
“No, no, you will not send me there!”
“I shall certainly have you tried and punished.”
“Uncle! I beseech you! Let me speak to you alone.
I did not do it. I must have a word with you, where no
one can see, no one can hear.”
“Indeed, I shall not consent. You want to induce me
not to prosecute. I know what you will say. I know how
you will appeal to my feelings. You know well enough
what a lovin’ and tender and feelin’ heart I’ve always shown.
But this won’t do. It won’t do. I’ve borne the slights and
the slanders because o’ the last fire, and folk cried out again’
me’I did it for the insurance; and now’now I hope I’ll
make all believe I’m not the guilty party. They must look
elsewhere. Take her in charge as an incendiary, constable.
Do your duty.”
“Uncle! I beseech you! For my sake, for your own,
go no further in this.”
“I must proceed, if only to clear myself.”
“Uncle!” In her anxiety she held him. “You do not
know my reasons. I pray you, I pray you on behalf of me
and dear aunt, as well as yourself’some terrible thing will
happen otherwise!”
“I’ll look to that’that no more terrible things happen.
Now, constable, she’s threatenin’ to burn the house down
over my head, to burn me and my missus in our beds. You
.bn 132.png
.pn +1
heard her. You all heard her threaten us. I call you to
witness.”
“I will do no harm to anyone. I entreat a word, a
word in private,” urged Kate.
“I’ll have no word in private,” said Pepperill. “What
you have to say, say out; lies, lies all it will be,” he added.
“I cannot say it before all. I must speak it in your
ear.”
“I won’t listen to nothing,” said Pepperill.
“And I,” said Pooke, “I won’t allow of no tamperin’ wi’
justice, no persuadin’ not to prosecute. We’ve had enough
of these little games here. This is the third fire, and we’ll
have someone punished for this if I can manage it.”
“You do not know what you are doing, uncle,” gasped
Kitty, staggering to her feet.
“I reckon I know pretty well,” he answered coldly.
“You do not. You will bitterly, bitterly rue it. Do not
rush on what must happen, and then tear yourself in grief
and dismay that you did not listen to me.”
“Listen how she threatens. Tell’e what, Mr. Pooke,
there’ll be no safety for none i’ the parish so long as she’s
at large. Silence, Kitty! Neither the constable nor I will
hear another word but what concerns this fire, and what will
serve to convict you.”
“Did you go with the lantern all along wi’ Jane
Redmore?” asked Pooke.
Kate recovered her composure, and, with a despairing
action of the hands, dashed the tears from her eyes.
“Answer me,” said Pooke; “no prevarication.”
.bn 133.png
.pn +1
“I went out with Jane.”
“Did you accompany her home?”
“No, only a little way.”
“How far?”
“To the gate.”
“What! not into the lane even?”
“No.”
“How long was she absent?” asked Pooke.
“Long enough for me to draw up a document,” said
Pepperill. “What should you say, Zerah? Half an hour?”
Zerah was in no condition to answer.
“And why did you not go on with Jane Redmore?”
asked the constable of Kitty.
“Because’I cannot say.”
“Oh, you cannot say? Mind, what you speak now may
be used again’ you at your trial. I’m bound to tell you that,
and you ain’t obliged to answer. Nevertheless, if you can
give a reasonable account of yourself, I’m not called on to
think you guilty, and arrest you. What was you a-doing of
yourself all that half an hour, when you wasn’t with Jane
Redmore, a-seeing of her home?”
He paused for an answer, and received none.
“Am I to understand you won’t say? You ain’t forced
to do so, you know.”
“I had rather not say,” replied Kate in a low voice.
“I suppose there was a candle in the lantern when you
went out?”
“Yes.”
“Was it burnt out?” Pooke looked into the socket in
.bn 134.png
.pn +1
the lantern. “No,” he said; “it has illicitly been removed.
There is no guttering of grease. How do you account for
that?”
Kate made no answer.
“We know very well how your rick was fired,” said
Pepperill. “It seems to me, Mr. Pooke, that mine was
set alight to in much the same way.”
“How do you account for the candle being gone?”
asked the constable.
Again no answer.
“Now, look here,” said he. “You’re a little maid, and
I don’t want to deal hard with you. If you can give me an
explanation of your conduct as will satisfy, why, I’ll not
proceed to extremities. But I must say that things look
ugly. If you was innocent, you could say so.”
“I am innocent.”
“Then how came the rick to be fired?”
Kate made no reply. She was trembling, and nervously
plucking at her light shawl, tearing away and unravelling
the fringe.
“You alone had the lantern. It wasn’t Mrs. Redmore
now’eh?’or her husband?”
“Oh no, no!” replied Kate eagerly. “She had nothing
to do with it. She had gone away along the lane, some
time before”’She halted.
“Oh! you know how the fire arose?”
Kate gave no reply.
“I’m afraid it’s a bad case, and I must do my duty, and
convey you to the lock-up.”
.bn 135.png
.pn +1
“Oh, aunt!” cried the girl, turning towards Zerah, who
stood cowed, speechless, in the background. “Oh, aunt!
let me speak with you alone.”
“No! it is of no use,” said Pasco, stepping between the
girl and his wife. “Nothin’ that she can say to Zerah will
avail, and certainly nothin’ that Zerah can say will persuade
me. Remove her at once.”
The constable laid his hand on Kate’s shoulder.
“One question more. Mind, I caution you not to
answer unless you choose. If Mrs. Redmore was not with
you, she had gone on. Were you alone, Kitty, in the stackyard
after she left; and how was it you were there so long?
Say, was there anyone with you?”
“Aunt, let me speak to you!” in a despairing cry.
Zerah made a movement towards her niece, but Pepperill
intercepted her, and, catching her by the shoulders, rudely
thrust her back. “You shall not speak with her.” Then,
turning his head, with a coarse laugh, “So, someone with
her! The schoolmaster, I suppose. She had given him
up, and was inclined to take him on again. Women change
like weathercocks.”
“Mr. Bramber was not there,” said Kate, a flush mantling
her brow.
“Then who was it?”
Dead silence.
“Come, Kate Quarm, with me. I must do my duty,”
said the constable.
“Stay!” said the rector, who had entered unperceived.
“Trust her with me. I solemnly promise that I will keep
.bn 136.png
.pn +1
her secure. Let her go with me to the parsonage, and do
not, in pity, take the frightened, innocent child”’
“Innocent?” in a mocking tone from Pasco.
“Innocent child,” repeated the rector, with his eye on
Pepperill, who dropped his at once. “Mr. Pooke, rely on
me to produce her when you require. In pity, do not
frighten her; she may be able easily to clear herself. That
she is innocent, I stake my word. Trust her to me.”
The constable hesitated. The lock-up was in a bad
condition. It had not been occupied for years, and had
been turned into a poultry-house.
“Come, Kitty,” said the rector. “I have made myself
answerable for you. And I am proud to do so.”
.bn 137.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER LI | THE PASS’N’S PRESCRIPTION
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
Not a word on that evening would the old rector
allow himself to speak to Kitty relative to the fire,
nor would he suffer her to speak about it. He saw that she
was in a condition of nervous excitability, and that she
must be tranquillised. But, indeed, she made hardly an
attempt to speak about the rick, and how it was set on fire;
and directly the rector put up his hand to indicate that the
topic was taboo, she submitted with a sense of relief.
Mr. Fielding had a kind, motherly housekeeper, with
tact, and, at a word from him, she understood how that
Kate was to be treated. The rector was, indeed, alarmed
lest the fright and mental excitement he found the girl
labouring under might throw her into fever. He knew that
she was not strong in constitution, and that she was endowed
with high-strung and sensitive nerves.
Walter Bramber, having heard of the fire, of the threatened
arrest of Kate, of her having been taken to the
Rectory, hastened to the parsonage in the hope of seeing
her. But this Mr. Fielding would not allow. The young
man was greatly agitated, grievously distressed. He entreated
.bn 138.png
.pn +1
to be permitted an interview, but the rector was
peremptory in refusing it.
“Remember, all is off between you, at all events for a
time. That she likes you, has not ceased to like you, I am
convinced. In her present trouble the sight of you would
but increase her distress. There is something behind all
this’something of mystery, which I do not fathom. Kitty
cannot justify herself; not that she is guilty, that neither
you nor I credit. There is something that ties her tongue.
She is, perhaps, afraid of compromising another, and who
that is I do not know.”
“I believe,” said Walter impetuously, “that this is a
wicked conspiracy against Kitty. Mr. Pepperill, to clear
himself of the suspicion that he caused the burning down
of his stores, painfully laboured to spread the report that
Kitty had done it, and done it out of revenge because he
refused to allow of my suit. And now he has contrived, by
some means or other, to get his rick fired’which is not
insured’in such a manner as to make it appear that Kitty,
and Kitty alone, could have done it. It is a vile plot to
ruin her, and she is innocent as a lamb.”
“That she is innocent I am assured,” said the rector.
“How this last fire has come about I cannot even venture
to guess. The material for forming an opinion is not to
hand. Till Kitty speaks we probably shall not know, and
I do not know what will induce her to speak. Of one
thing be confident, Walter: whatever Kitty believes is right,
that she will do. I would not urge her to speak, because her
sense of duty, her conscience, tells her to be silent. I have
.bn 139.png
.pn +1
that perfect, unshaken trust in her, that I simply leave
matters alone, and all I seek is to relieve her of unnecessary
trial.”
“I am a poor man,” said Bramber, “but I will give
every penny I have,’I will sell my books, ay, and my violin,
to secure the best counsel for her defence, if it comes to
that.”
“You need not trouble yourself on that score,” said Mr.
Fielding, with a smile. “Kitty has other friends besides
you. There is her aunt, who loves her, and there is her
pastor, who watches over her with much care.”
Bramber moved in restless unhappiness. The rector
saw how wretched the young man was, and he said gently,
“Bramber, do you not see that the case is taken almost
completely out of our hands?”
“I suppose it is’to some extent.”
“Almost entirely. I will not urge Kitty to say what she
thinks should be withheld. There is but one thing you
and I can do, and that is what I shall advise Kitty, before
she goes to bed, that which will be better than any sleeping
draught, that which alone will strengthen her to bear what
is to come, that will cool the fevered heart, and calm the
working brain.”
“What is that? I have tried my violin’music will not
ease my mind.”
“No, it is something else. A prescription I had long
ago from a Great Physician: one I have often tried, and
never found to fail.”
“What is that?”
.bn 140.png
.pn +1
“Cast all your care upon God, for He careth for
you.”
Walter clasped the old rector’s hand, he could not speak,
something rose in his throat. He turned away, and found
that the prescription availed.
Before Kitty went to bed that night, the rector sought
her. She had been standing for an hour at a window,
looking in the direction of the Cellars.
In the few hours that had passed she had become whiter,
more sunken under the eyes, more tremulous in her limbs
and mouth. It was with her as the rector surmised. Her
mind was torn with doubt as to what course she should
pursue. If she were to save herself, it must be at the cost
of others.
“Mr. Fielding, is it possible to prevent my being brought
before the magistrates? that is, can I see my uncle in private
here, and induce him to withdraw what he has said?”
“I do not think it is possible.”
“I could tell him something which would make him
most anxious to hush the matter up.”
“Nevertheless, he cannot withdraw. He has made a
charge against you. It has gone beyond the stage at which
a recall is possible. Remember, Kitty, this is not a mere
prosecution for injury done; it is a criminal charge, and
your uncle dare not now hold back without making himself
guilty of compounding a felony. I am nothing of a lawyer,
but I fancy such is the law. Even if your uncle did not
take the matter up, Mr. Pooke would be bound to do so.
You must make up your mind to that.”
.bn 141.png
.pn +1
“Then something dreadful will happen.”
“Kitty,” said the rector, “you will have to take my
prescription’not mine, but one given by the Greatest of
physicians. Unless you do that, you will have no rest for
mind or body, no sleep, and you will be worn out before
the trial.”
“What is that?”
He told her. “The matter, you see, is taken out of
your hands. You can do nothing by torturing your brain
with thoughts how to avoid this, how to modify that.”
“It is so.”
“Then cast all your care upon God, for He careth for
you. Now go to sleep, and be fresh to-morrow.”
The rector left his house and visited the Cellars. The
rick was resolved into a huge glowing ember, from which
fell avalanches of fiery powder. Above the mass flickered
ghost-like blue flames, not in touch with the incandescent
heap below.
At the door of the house the rector encountered Pasco
Pepperill.
“There’see how I am served by the public!” exclaimed
Pasco. “When a misfortune happens, there are always
some wanton rascals to do mischief above and beyond what
is the main loss.”
“What has happened to you now, Mr. Pepperill?” asked
the rector.
“Some idle vagabonds have been at my boat again,”
answered Pasco. “It was so when my stores were burnt’not
the same night, but soon after’out of sheer wickedness
.bn 142.png
.pn +1
they cut my old boat adrift, and I lost her. She was carried
out by the tide, and never have I heard of her from that
day to this.”
“Well, and now?”
“And now they’ve gone and done the same’or worse.
Before it was my old boat, and now it’s the new one’cut
the rope, and away she’s gone. It’s wickedness. Oh my!
You should preach and pray against it. There be such a
lot of it in the world’and cost me six guineas did that
boat.”
“I am very sorry to hear of this additional loss,” said the
rector.
“I suppose the next thing they will say is, I cut my own
boat away and let her go out to sea, because I had insured
her. But you may tell everyone, pass’n, that I hadn’t
insured my boat no more than I had my rick o’ straw. Oh
dear! the wickedness there is in the world!”
“I wish to see your wife for a moment.”
“Zerah’s inside, in a fine take-on. She’s gone about like
a weathercock lately, and can’t make enough of Kitty.
And now that Kitty is proved to ha’ done all these horrible
crimes, she’s in a bad way, I can assure you.”
The rector entered the house and found the poor woman.
Her former hardness had given way under the troubles she
had undergone; her pride had been broken down beneath
the burden of the knowledge that her husband had been
guilty of setting fire to his stores for the sake of the insurance
money, and of the gnawing suspicion that her brother
had died in the flames; that he had been remorselessly
.bn 143.png
.pn +1
sacrificed by Pasco to conceal his own guilt. And now
that this new conflagration had occurred, and that Kitty
was apparently implicated in it, she was nigh in
despair.
“Mrs. Pepperill,” said the rector, “I have come to you
after having dismissed Kitty to rest.”
“Rest?” echoed Zerah. “Can she sleep? That is
more than I can.”
“Yes; so also will you when you have taken the same
prescription.”
“I want no medicine.”
“You will take this. You can do nothing for your niece,
can you?”
“Nothing but fret,” said Mrs. Pepperill.
“That will not help her. You believe her to be innocent?”
asked the rector.
“I am sure of it.”
“Nothing you can say or do will prove it?”
“Nothing; but if I’m called to bear witness, and I must
speak the truth, then what I say may go against her. That
troubles me, terrible. I’m mazed wi’ the thought. You
see, I looked, and there was a can’l-end in the lantern
when she took it; and I saw there was none at all when
she brought back the lantern. I don’t want to say it, as it
may go against her; but I can’t go against my oath and
against the truth.”
“Of course not. Speak out what is true.”
“And I can’t have no rest thinkin’, and thinkin’, and
frettin’ about it all.”
.bn 144.png
.pn +1
“No, Mrs. Pepperill; but you will rest and sleep peacefully
after you have taken my prescription’a sovereign
one, as many a vexed soul has found’the only one possible
in many a case’‘Cast all your care upon God, for He
careth for you.’”
.bn 145.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER LII | IN COURT
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.4
The day of the petty sessions at Newton followed
closely in the same week, within two days, and
whilst excitement was at its height. The court-house was
packed, there was hardly standing room; and there was a
full bench of magistrates.
Kate was brought in, looking pale; her broad white
forehead like ivory, with the dark hair drawn back on either
side; the dark eyebrows and long dusky lashes showing
conspicuously on account of her pallor; and the lustrous
blue eyes, so full of light, alone giving brightness to her
face. Though pale, she was composed. She no longer
trembled, and her lips were closed and firm.
The transparent purity, the innocent modesty of her
bearing and appearance, impressed the court.
She wore a black dress, as she had been accustomed to
wear since the fire at the Cellars, in which it was supposed
her father had died, but the black was spotted with white,
as a sort of concession to the supposition that he might be
still alive.
Mr. Fielding was present. He had been courteously
.bn 146.png
.pn +1
accommodated with a chair within the precincts of the
bench; he caught Kitty’s eye, and raised his finger, pointing
upwards. She understood him, and smiled reassuringly.
Far more anxious than Kitty was Walter Bramber, who
had given a holiday to the school, with the rector’s consent,
and had come into Newton to hear the case. He was not
able to master his agitation; his pain to see Kitty in so
conspicuous a position, and in such danger, labouring
under an accusation which he was certain was unfounded.
Pasco Pepperill was present; he would have to appear in
the witness-box. He had sent for his solicitor to conduct
the prosecution.
As soon as the case was called, Mr. Squire stood up.
He had, he said, a painful task imposed on him, and none
felt it more deeply than his client, the plaintiff, who
naturally shrank from taking a step of so grave a character,
against one who was his wife’s niece, young in age, and
who had been for many years an inmate of his house, and
one for whom hitherto he had entertained an almost fatherly
regard. Indeed, so deeply did the plaintiff feel this, that if
possible he would have held back altogether, and have
borne his loss in silence. But there were attendant
circumstances which precluded him from adopting this
course. He acted in the matter solely from a sense of
duty he owed to himself and to the neighbourhood, and
he might add, of humanity towards the unhappy individual
placed before the bench under the grave charge of arson.
It was no secret’it could be no secret’that the most
serious and damaging reports had been circulated relative
.bn 147.png
.pn +1
to his client in connection with a recent fire at Coombe
Cellars, reports most wounding to a man of high integrity
and irreproachable character, peculiarly distressing to one
of so sensitive and scrupulous a conscience as Mr. Pasco
Pepperill, who was churchwarden of his parish, and had
served in several important parochial offices, as guardian of
the poor, waywarden and overseer, always to the satisfaction
of everyone, and had borne, in all his dealings, the character
of a straight and upright man.
Mr. Pepperill had formed his own opinions relative to
the fire that had occurred on his premises previous to this
last, but with them, he, Mr. Squire, would not trouble the
bench. Suffice it to say that his view relative to the origin
of that fire had impelled him to act with promptitude on
the present occasion, not merely to bring to justice the
perpetrator of this last atrocious deed, but also to exhibit
to the neighbourhood the fact that he had harboured in his
house one who was capable of such acts, for which he
himself had been most unjustly and cruelly charged by the
popular voice.
Moreover, in consideration of the fact that three cases of
malicious burning had taken place within a twelvemonth in
the parish of Coombe, Mr. Pepperill had thought himself
morally bound, in the interest of the public, to prosecute
in this last instance, where the criminal had been taken, so
to speak, red-handed. And, lastly, he acted in her interest;
for he felt, and felt with the most sincere conviction, that it
was for the young girl’s own good in this world and in the
next that a career so badly begun should be checked; and
.bn 148.png
.pn +1
that by wholesome correction she might be induced to
enter into her own heart and root out from it all malice
and resentfulness which had been allowed, as it would
appear, to harbour there and drive her to the commission
of crime. In conclusion, Mr. Squire hoped to produce
such witnesses’all most reluctant to speak’as would
place the matter clearly before their worships, and leave
them no choice but to refer the case to the Quarter
Sessions. The case being one of felony, they were precluded
from dealing with it as in a case of summary
jurisdiction.
Then Mr. Squire proceeded to call Mrs. Zerah Pepperill
into the witness-box. Zerah cast an appealing glance at
Kitty, who acknowledged it gently, with a faint smile.
The solicitor then questioned Mrs. Pepperill.
“You are, I believe, the aunt of the accused?”
“Yes, sir?”
“And you are greatly attached to her?”
“Very greatly. I have known her from a babe.”
“Then we may be quite satisfied that you are most
unwilling to say anything to her prejudice; and that only
an overwhelming sense of duty and responsibility induces
you to give witness’and true witness?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, Mrs. Pepperill, will you look towards the Bench
and tell their worships, in order, the events of the evening
of the 16th ultimo.”
Zerah was silent for a while.
“Do not be afraid; speak out,” said the chairman.
.bn 149.png
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“Well, sir,” began Zerah, “it was supper’we mostly
has our supper at seven, or thereabout. Sometimes we
can’t be exact. That clock of ours ain’t over partic’lar to
a minute, and us sets it by the Atmospheric, and the
Atmospheric is most irregular of all. Then us took the
clock to Mr. Ford, to Newton, to have ’n put to rights,
and us paid ’n seven and six, and he sent ’n home worse
than he was afore. He used to go, reg’lar, right on end
till he runned down, tho’ he didn’t always keep time
exact-ly. But after Mr. Ford took ’n in hand, then he
began to stand still, after he wor winded up, out o’ pure
wickedness; and if you gentlemen would make Mr. Ford
pay me back that there seven and six”’
The chairman interrupted her. “Come to the point,
please, Mrs. Pepperill.”
“Is it the leg o’ pork you mean?” asked Zerah. “I’m
comin’ to her direct-ly. You see, sirs, ’twern’t cured
proper, not as I likes it, and so the maggots got to the
bone. Which do your worships like, gentlemen’rubbin’
in the salt dry, or soakin’ in brine? I hold to the dry
rubbin’’that is, if it be well done; but to have a thing
well done you must do it yourself. You can’t trust nobody
now. And so the maggots”’
“Never mind the maggots, my good woman.”
“So I sed to Pasco. Us can’t waste thickey leg o’
pork; us must eat ’n, and so I’ll get ’n out as well as I can,
and you go and take plenty o’ exercise and work up a
cruel strong appetite, and you won’t make no count o’
there having been maggots in the leg o’ pork.”
.bn 150.png
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The chairman again intervened, and requested Mr.
Squire to extract what was necessary to be known from this
good woman by interrogation. If allowed her own course,
she would not know where to stop, like the clock before
taken in hand by Mr. Ford, and run clean away, as was
threatened by the leg of pork.
“Mrs. Pepperill,” said Mr. Squire, “you seem to be
diffusive in your evidence. However engrossing may be
the interest attaching to your clock and leg of pork, still
we are not concerned, thank goodness, with either’specially,
thank goodness, we are not here to discuss that
same leg of pork.”
“The leg ought to ha’ been turned in the brine twice a
day, and her wasn’t. If her had been, her’d ha’ been famous.”
“I rather think, Mrs. Pepperill, this leg of pork is likely
to become famous now, as I see a local reporter present,
and it will appear in the paper. But this leg is blocking
our way; let us lay it on the shelf and proceed, as the
French say, to our mutton. Where were you at seven, or,
may be, half-past seven, on the evening of the 16th
ultimo?”
“I don’t think I was nowhere.”
“What! nowhere three days ago?”
“That wor the 16th August.”
“Well, I said so.”
“Beg pardon, sir, you asked for the 16th of Ultimo, and
I never heered tell o’ that month. It ain’t in the calendar.”
“Come; on the evening of the 16th last, were you at
supper with your husband and others?”
.bn 151.png
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“Yes.”
“And those others were”’
“Rose Ash and Noah Flood. They came in”’
“Never mind that. Answer shortly my questions.
Where was Kate Quarm?”
“She had her supper, too.”
“And when she had done, did she go into the back
kitchen to clean up?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was anyone with her then?”
“Yes, sir; Jane Redmore.”
“And when Jane Redmore went home, did your niece
accompany her?”
“She said she was going with her.”
“Did your niece take a lantern?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And did you see there was a candle in the lantern?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sufficient to burn for an hour?”
“I don’t know that exactly.”
“Well, three-quarters of an hour?”
“Perhaps so. I didn’t notice exactly how long the
candle was.”
“Anyhow, it would have burnt for more than a quarter
of an hour?”
“Oh yes.”
“Or for half an hour?”
“I daresay it would.”
“You know it would. Now be careful as to your statements,
.bn 152.png
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Mrs. Pepperill. You are quite sure it would have
burnt for three-quarters of an hour, if not an hour?”
“Perhaps’I cannot say.”
“You can say it would have lasted three-quarters, but
are not sure it would last an hour?”
“I suppose so.”
“It is not the way of candles, like legs of pork, to run
away of themselves, is it?”
“I don’t understand you, sir!”
“I mean, that if you put a candle into a lantern, it will
remain in the lantern till it is burnt out.”
“Unless someone takes it out.”
“Exactly! and when the lantern was brought back by
Kate Quarm, was the candle there?”
“N’n’o.”
“It was not there. It was not burnt out, and it had
not run away, eh?”
“I suppose so.”
“Then someone must have removed the candle. This
is a point, your worships, I wish to establish, and that you
should observe. Kate Quarm went out with a lantern in
her hand, in which was a piece of candle that would
certainly last three-quarters of an hour, if not an entire
hour. When she returned, no candle was in the socket.
I shall call other witnesses to establish this, and the fact
that there were no signs of the candle having melted away;
indeed, the lantern is here. Constable, please to produce
it. If the Bench will kindly look at it, your worships will
perceive that the candle was put in with a piece of brown
.bn 153.png
.pn +1
paper wrapped about it. The paper is still there. The
candle is gone. It was taken out. I will call the constable
presently to testify that he took charge of the lantern
immediately after the event, and that it has not been
tampered with since. I now proceed to ask Mrs. Pepperill
how long a time Kate Quarm was absent after she went
out with Mrs. Jane Redmore. Now, Mrs. Pepperill, pray
concentrate your mind and exercise your memory. How
long was Kate absent?”
“What’washing up?” asked Zerah.
“No’we have nothing to do with the washing up.
After that, when she went out with Jane Redmore.”
“I didn’t look at the clock.”
“About how long?”
“I can’t say.”
“Do you think it was half an hour?”
“It might be so.”
“Or less.”
“I really can’t tell.”
“Then she was absent for half an hour at the outside,
possibly.”
“I suppose so.”
“You may go now. I shall want you again. I proceed
to summon Jane Redmore.”
This poor woman was in such a nervous condition
that she would have fainted, had she not been provided
with a chair. Nothing but what was of absolute
importance could be drawn from her; which was that
Kitty had not accompanied her beyond the gate from
.bn 154.png
.pn +1
the Coombe premises, a distance of hardly three hundred
yards.
“This,” said the solicitor, “is what I require. I will
not trouble this feeble and timorous creature any longer.
We have ascertained that the defendant, Kate Quarm,
went out with Mrs. Redmore, under the pretext that she
was going to accompany her home.”
“I do not think this point was established,” said the
chairman.
“I beg your worship’s pardon. You are right. The
next witness I shall call will establish the pretext without a
doubt. I summon Pasco Pepperill!”
“Stay a moment’what is this noise, this disturbance in
the court?” called the chairman. “It is not possible for
me or my brother magistrates to hear what is said. Unless
the disturbance be allayed instantly, I shall give orders for
the court to be cleared.”
The requisite stillness ensued.
“Now then, Mr. Pepperill, stand forward, take the book,
and such answers,” etc.
Again there ensued a movement among the crowd outside
the rails’exclamations, mutterings, and heaving and
tossing, as though the mass of mankind there densely
packed was boiling up from below.
“I insist on order in the court!” called the chairman.
Then Pasco, having kissed the Bible, turned his face to
the Bench. He was elate, had spread his breast, and
tossed back his head, a self-complacent smirk was on his
countenance.
.bn 155.png
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“I have felt it my duty,” he said, “to speak’to clear
my own self, and to cut short the career of crime of the
girl I have regarded as my niece.”
Again the agitation among the public; and now through
the mob came a man, elbowing his way, till he had forced
himself to the front, and stood face to face with Pasco
Pepperill.
Pasco, disturbed in his pompous address, turned and
saw before him’Jason Quarm!
He put his hand to his head with a gasp, staggered back,
and fell senseless to the ground.
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CHAPTER LIII | JASON’S STORY
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The court was full of commotion. Pasco Pepperill
had fallen, as though struck down by a hammer,
and was insensible. He was carried out with difficulty, and
with the crowd rushing about him and his bearers, unable to
realise what had taken place, anxious to see if he were
dead.
He was not dead: a doctor was hastily summoned to the
house into which he was taken, and he pronounced the case to
be one of apoplexy brought on by sudden and violent emotion.
Meantime, inside the court order was gradually restored.
The chairman made a feeling allusion to the sudden
illness which had fallen on the most important witness in
the case’which was the less to be wondered at, since the
case was one that must deeply move Mr. Pepperill, as he
had to appear against a member of his own family.
Then Mr. Pooke, with a mottled face, pushed up to the
Bench, and whispered something in the ear of the chairman.
“I beg pardon, I do not understand,” said he.
“Sir,” said Mr. Pooke, “the real culprit has come to
deliver himself up’Jason Quarm, who set fire to the rick,
.bn 157.png
.pn +1
for which his daughter stands here accused wrongfully by
the biggest rascal that ever breathed.”
“Call Jason Quarm!” said the magistrate.
Jason at once hobbled forward and pushed himself in
beside Kate, who was trembling with emotions of the most
varied nature. Jason cleared his throat and said’
“I, your worships, I, and none but I, set fire to the rick
at Coombe Cellars, and I did it by inadvertence. Please
you to remove my daughter from this dock, and hear her
presently as witness.”
“Let us hear first what you have to say. We cannot
discharge her till we know that she is innocent.”
“She is innocent, as innocent as the day. May it please
your worships to hear what I have to relate. It’s a main
long story,” said Jason.
“What is to the point we will listen to. So you surrender
yourself as having fired the rick.”
“I did it, your worship. This is how it came about’you
may put me on oath if you will.”
“Stay a moment. I have to caution you that you are
not obliged to say anything, unless you desire to do so;
but whatever you say will be taken down in writing, and
may be given in evidence against you upon your trial.”
“I quite understand that,” said Quarm. “If I may be
allowed a seat, I shall be obliged. I’ve got one leg a bit
shorter than the other, and it’s rayther a trouble for me to
stand long, and I’ve a goodish long tale to tell.”
“I again remind you that what you say must be to the
point.”
.bn 158.png
.pn +1
“I shan’t wander,” answered Jason. “But I shall have
to begin some way back, and that in March last, when Mr.
Pooke’s rick was set a-blazin’. That were thought to ha’
been the doin’ of Roger Redmore, and there was a warrant
out agin him, but he wor niver ketched.”
“Does this concern the case before the court?”
“Ay, it do’intimate like.”
“Very well, then, proceed. We have ordered you to
be accommodated with a chair, and your daughter likewise.”
“Roger Redmore, he runned away, and the constables
never ketched he. My daughter Kitty, her took on terrible
over the poor wife as was turned out of house and home by
Mr. Pooke, and her persuaded me to let the woman have
my cottage, for she and the little ones. I didn’t mind, as I
was away on the moor busy about Brimpts oak wood, and
when I comed back to Coombe, I wor mostly at the Cellars.
My sister Zerah, she be that rapscallion Pasco’s wife, you
understand, your worship.”
“Is this really to the point? You are speaking of the
fire at Mr. Pooke’s, not of that at Mr. Pepperill’s.”
“One fire hangs on to the other. You’ll find that out,
gents, when you’ve heard my tale.”
“Proceed, then.”
“Well’it seems that Roger Redmore felt mighty
grateful because of what Kitty and I had done. I was
agent for an insurance company, and I persuaded my
brother-in-law to insure in it, but I must say he rather
astonished me at the figure at which he insured, and made
.bn 159.png
.pn +1
me a bit uneasy; I hadn’t such a terrible high opinion of
him as to think he might not be up to tricks.”
“What do you mean by tricks?”
“Doin’ something to his insured goods that weren’t
worth much, and gettin’ for ’em payment as if they was
gold. But, your worship, that you’ll say ain’t to the point.
No more it is’we come to facts, not opinions, don’t us?
Well, I had been to Brimpts about the oak we was fellin’
and barkin’, and I wanted to tell my brother-in-law as how
I thought we could deal with the dockyard at Portsmouth.
So I left the moor and drove down in my conveyance,’which
is nothing but a donkey cart and a jackass to draw’n,’and
when I came in the dark o’ the evening to my
cottage, there I found Roger Redmore in the bosom of his
family, so to speak. ’Twas awk’ard for he and awk’ard for
me, as there was a warrant out again’ him, and so I drove
right on and on to the Cellars. I found Pasco there in the
house all by hisself, which was coorious. He had sent his
wife, my sister Zerah, away somewhere, and Kitty, my
daughter, away somewhere else, and he was in a pretty take-on
because I turned up unexpected. I didn’t quite understand
why he was in so poor a temper, and why he should
turn me out of the house as he did’and I had got nowhere
to go to for a night’s lodgin’. You see, your
worships, I couldn’t go home, what wi’ all the beds and
every hole and corner chockfull o’ childer as thick as fleas
in a dog’s back, not to mention the woman and that chap
Roger in hiding, who didn’t want to be found. But
Pasco, he wouldn’t listen to reason, and he was that
.bn 160.png
.pn +1
suspicious and that queer in all his goings-on, that I
thought some mischief wor up, and that I’d bide handy
and keep an eye on him. Well, gentlemen, when he jostled
me out o’ the house door, I went to the warehouse, and it
wasn’t locked, so I stepped in and found the ladder and
clambered up that. Thinks I to myself, if Pasco don’t
mean no wickedness, well, I can sleep here comfortable
enough, anyhow. There were plenty o’ fleeces’they
weren’t over clean and sweet, but in such a case one can’t
be partic’lar. I hadn’t been there a terrible long time
before I heard the door open and I see’d a light. So I
went to the ladder head and looked down, and there sure
enough wor Pasco! I watched him awhile to see what
May-games he wor up to, and at last I spied what it wor.
He were arranging and settling shavings among the coal
knobs, so as to make up grand fires, and he was gettin’
everything ready to burn down the whole consarn, coals
and fleeces and building, and me in it, if I were that jack
fool to bide where I was. So I hollered out to he, and
let ’n understand who was there, and that I marked his little
game. I were on the ladder. He looked towards me, and
came at me, and shook the ladder, and shook me down, and
I fell on my head, I reckon, and remember nothing more
till I came to myself, bound hand and foot in a sack, and
throwed a-top of a heap o’ coal, that were afire and fizzing
out in flame and smoke, and a’most stifled I were, and
didn’t know ’xactly where I were, whether I’d got to the
wrong place down below. I cried out, and I tried to get
free, but couldn’t move, and then I rolled myself down over
.bn 161.png
.pn +1
fire and coals, and scorched I were a bit; but what’d
been the end I cannot tell, if it had not been for Roger
Redmore, who broke open the door and came in, and
dragged me out of the smoke and smother, and cut the
bands and got me out o’ the sack, and helped me off to
where his missis were, that is to say, my cottage.”
Jason paused and looked about him.
“That, I reckon, is the first chapter. Now to go on.
When I came there, I thought it all over, and I got Roger
to put me in the outhouse, where none of the children
might see, and himself he dursn’t bide more than the night
lest he should be took, but he told Jane to mind me and
let me have what I wanted. Well, I turned the matter well
over in my head, and I thought as how Pasco were my
brother-in-law, and if all came out, I’d bring trouble on
Zerah, and on my own child; I’d have to say as how Pasco
had fired his own building so as to get the insurance
money, and tried to kill me too, ’cause I see’d what he were
up to. So I didn’t like to do that, and I thought it ’ud be
best for all parties if I got out o’ the way. I dursn’t stir all
the day that followed. But at night I got out when I
knowed the tide was suitable, and I took the old boat at
the Cellars and I made off wi’ that, and I rowed out to sea,
and rowed along the coast to Torquay, and I landed there,
and there I ha’ been, unbeknown to the Coombe folk’there
or in London. When I’d been a bit to Torquay, I
seemed to smell money. I see’d as how a lot o’ fortune
could be got there by building and making a great place of
it for invalids and such folk; and I went up to London to
.bn 162.png
.pn +1
start a company, and get a building firm to take the matter
up. I’ve been off and on about this idee, and a fine idee
it is like to turn out’so I reckon. I did hear as how
Pasco, he’d dra’ed twelve hundred pounds out o’ the insurance
company. Blessed if I knowed ’xactly what I should
do. On the one side, I were agent for the company; on the
other, I were brother-in-law to Pasco, and if I peached on
Pasco, I might just as well ha’ stuck a knife into my sister’s
heart. And then I owed him something for having reared
my daughter in his house since she wor a baby. And
Pasco and me, us got on famous together about speculations,
and taken in the lump he weren’t a bad chap till he began
to look to gettin’ money by burning down his warehouse.”
Jason stood up, stretched his limbs, sat down again, and
proceeded’after a word of cheer to his daughter, who had
risen and was standing speechless, looking at him with dismayed
eyes. She knew that her uncle was false, but Jason
had revealed a depth of wickedness in the man which she
had not conceived to be possible.
She had been satisfied that he had set fire to his magazines
for the sake of the insurance, and she knew that, basely, he
endeavoured to throw the guilt of the act on her. She had
feared that her father had been sacrificed when the warehouse
was burned, but had never supposed that her uncle
had done this deliberately.
“Now,” continued Quarm, “I reckon I come to the third
chapter. After a bit, I thought I’d come back to Coombe,
but not openly, and see how Kitty were getting along. So I
came unbeknown to everyone, and went to Mrs. Redmore,
.bn 163.png
.pn +1
and her put me in the same old outhouse as I were in
before, and I told her, as she worked at the Cellars, to say
nothing about it to Kitty, but find an excuse for getting her
out from the house after dark. That is what Jane Redmore
did, and I met Kitty at the rick, and us went together
behind the rick, so as the light might not be seen from the
house whilst we talked. Well, I’d been wi’out my bacca-pipe
for some time, and seein’ as how Kitty had a light,
I told her to open the lantern, and I’d have a bit o’ a
smoke for comfort. Her opened the lantern door’but Lor’!
gentlemen, I han’t told you how struck wi’ amaze and main
glad the little maid was to see her father, whom she had
believed to be dead, come to life again, hearty and wi’
fine prospects of makin’ money out of building speculations
to Torquay. But you must imagine all that, your worships;
it ain’t, as you may say, to the point; but this here little
affair o’ the pipe and lightin’ it is. Well, when she opened
the lantern door, I took out the bit end of a candle as was
therein, and I put it to my pipe to kindle my ’baccy. She
was talkin’ and tellin’ of me all as had happened, and
when her said as how Pasco Pepperill had tried to lay the
firing of his warehouse on she, then I were that angry I
burnt my fingers wi’ the candle-end, not thinking what I
were about, and throwed it down right among the straw,
and afore I could say Jack Robinson, there was a blaze as
no stamping would put out. The first thing Kate did was
to run in, and the first thing I did was to tumble into the
boat and make off. I didn’t know what the consequences
might be, and I first thought I’d consider it, and learn what
.bn 164.png
.pn +1
came of it all before I stirred. If Pasco didn’t make a fuss,
why, it might pass and no harm come of it; if he made a
stir, why, all must come out. The little maid, I reckon, she
would say nothing, because her knowed it was my doing the
stack catching alight, and thought she’d bring me into
trouble; and then there was that other fire behind; she
didn’t know what might come if it were examined into, and
I made my appearance as one returned from the dead.
But I heard of it all. Jane Redmore sent to tell me. And
now, your worships, I reckon I’m the guilty one of the fire,
but it was accident, and she’s innocent and may be discharged.
That is my story.”
The Bench withdrew for a few minutes. When the magistrates
returned, the buzz of voices in court ceased at once.
“We have decided,” said the chairman, “that the case
against Kate Quarm be dismissed. She leaves the court
without an imputation against her character. You, Mr.
Jason Quarm, must stand security in yourself and find two
others to stand bail for you to reappear before the court
when required.”
.bn 165.png
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CHAPTER LIV | CON AFFETTUOSO CAPRIZIO
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Pasco Pepperill did not recover. The shock had
been too great’it had sent the blood rushing to his
head, and his consciousness never returned. By midnight
he was a dead man.
Now that he was gone, the will’made partly in a moment
of scare, partly out of compunction, partly also out of boastfulness’came
into force, and Kitty was provided with a
small income of her own. The first thing done by her and
her aunt, as soon as the will was proved, was to refund to
the insurance company the whole of the money paid by
them to Pasco on account of the burned stores.
The Cellars belonged now to Zerah for her life. It was
not long before an understanding was reached between
Walter Bramber and Kitty, the purport of which was that
next spring Kitty should cease to be Alone. No inscription,
such as the girl had desired, had been cut in
the bark of the mulberry tree, and now, were one to be
traced there, it would be of a different nature’a legend
of two who met and parted, and met again never more
to part.
.bn 166.png
.pn +1
Jason Quarm for once had succeeded in a speculation.
The Torquay building society promised to be a prosperous
company, and to pay good dividends. Jason was not able
to contribute much in capital, but as promoter of the scheme
he received certain shares. He was occupied, his mind engrossed
in carrying out the plans of the company, in making
contracts, in buying materials, in supervising, in altering, in
scheming terraces and detached villas, in planting Belle
Views and Sea Prospects, and Rosebank Cottages, and
Lavender Walks, and Marine Parades, and he could afford
no time to be at Coombe.
Zerah was wrapped up in her niece. She could not
have loved her more dearly had Kitty been her own child.
The hardness in the woman’s character gave way; the
trouble she had undergone had softened and sweetened a
nature really good and kind, but ruffled and soured by
adverse circumstances and uncongenial associations. A
great change had taken place in the opinion of the public
in Coombe-in-Teignhead relative to Kitty. The general
feeling was, that she had been hardly treated, in having a
crime attributed to her of which she had been guiltless;
that if she had been reserved in her manner, it was her
way, and all folk were not constituted alike; that if she
asked questions, no one was bound to answer them unless
he liked, and if he couldn’t give the required information.
Kitty was quiet’she harmed nobody. She had done
Rose Ash a great favour in stepping out of the way when
Jan Pooke was inclined to “make a fool of himself wi’
her.” She was worth three thousand pounds for certain,
.bn 167.png
.pn +1
and it was said that her father was piling up a fortune in
Torquay. Coombe Cellars would ultimately be hers, as well
as the little bit of ground about it’or rather, at the back of
it, which was what remained of the farm. And she had
been grown in Coombe, she had foothold there, and “all
knew the worst o’ her, and that weren’t so cruel bad.”
Finally, and conclusively, Mr. Puddicombe pronounced in
her favour.
So public opinion veered round, and was prepared to
make much of Kate. The worst that could be spoken
of her was that she had taken up with that schoolmaster
again. But then, just as Scripture said that the believing
wife might sanctify the heathen husband, so it was reasoned
that the indigenous Kitty might naturalise the foreign
Walter, and that because she belonged to the place, he
might be accepted as a strange plant, given room to root
in at Coombe.
It was very well known that sometimes a stray cat came
to a house from nobody knew where, and meeowed,
entreating to be fed and harboured, and few housewives
would shut it out. They would take in the stranger, give
it milk and a place by the fire, and domesticate it. Even
so came this Walter Bramber into Coombe out of space;
whom he had belonged to, and from what sort of
habitation, no one knew. He asked to be domiciled
in Coombe, and Kitty took him in. What was allowable
to a cat was surely not to be refused to a schoolmaster.
If Walter Bramber was afflicted with superior education,
.bn 168.png
.pn +1
it was probably no more his fault than is water on the brain
in a rickety child. And if he was a schoolmaster by
profession, perhaps it was not his fault, but his misfortune.
He’d been bred to it by his unfeeling and unnatural parents,
just as in London some boys were brought up to be thieves
and pickpockets. Mr. Puddicombe, indeed, had taken up
schoolmastering, but that was a different matter; he had
not been reared to anything of the sort, and had adopted
it rather as a pastime than a profession, and had never
allowed it to interfere with his robust and intelligent
pleasures, such as cock-fighting; and Mr. Puddicombe
drank and smoked and swore sometimes, and all that
showed he was a man. On the whole, Coombe-in-Teignhead
agreed to accept Walter Bramber and Kitty
as his wife, with the proviso that it would kick them over
should they attempt to give themselves airs.
As for the rector, he was radiant with happiness. Now at
last he saw some prospect of making an impression for
good on his parishioners, if not of elevating the existing
generation, of greatly raising the moral and intellectual
tone of that which would follow. He had striven hard
for years in isolation and with absolutely no success.
Now, with the aid of a peculiarly well-qualified schoolmaster,
and with Kitty at that master’s side to direct
the girls as Bramber guided the minds of the boys, he
was sanguine of success, not of much that he would see
himself, but of a success in the far future. Of no profession
can that be said more truly than of that of the pastor,
“One soweth’another reapeth.”
.bn 169.png
.pn +1
“Walter,” said he to his schoolmaster, “I was not sent
here to blow Sunday soap-bubbles, sometimes iridescent
emptiness, sometimes emptiness without the iridescence.
Soap-bubbles please for the moment, but they do not
satisfy. No father, the gospel says, when asked for bread,
will give his children a stone, but a stone has in it substance,
whereas a soap-bubble has but emptiness. But the children
will not ask for bread unless they be hungry, and will
always be pleased to see soap-bubbles sail over their heads.
I believe the apostles were sent forth to be the salt of the
earth. Their successors are self-satisfied if they be but
insipid carbonate of soda. I have striven to feed, not to
amuse, but nothing can avail till the hunger come. You
find that in the school, I find it in the church. Some
Indians chew clay, because they have not bread. Our
people have quite a fancy for this stodgy substance; we
have to rectify their appetites, so that they may come to
desire nourishing diet, and not what is merely stuffing’to
seek for instruction, and not amusement. You in your
sphere, I in mine, have a similar office, and similar obligations
weighing on us, and similar difficulties to encounter.
If you seek for popularity, make Puddicombe your model;
take the level of the people among whom you are set, and
do not stir to cure them of clay-chewing. If you seek to
do your duty, then do not expect to have a path of soft
herbage to tread, but one of thorns. If I had been
indefinite, flowery, hollow in my teaching here, I should
have been the most popular man in the parish, and
after forty years’ ministration would have passed away
.bn 170.png
.pn +1
with a smile of self-satisfaction that I had given no
offence to anyone’only to awake in the vast beyond to
the startling conviction that I had done no good to
anyone!
“Cast your bread on the waters, and you will find it after
many days; cast chaff, and it will be blown, washed, rotted
away. Many a man in my profession and in yours’we
are both teachers’is like the cuckoo-spittle-insect, which
throws out a great froth bubble about it. So do some of
my profession surround themselves with a copious discharge
of words’words without substance. Avoid that in your
school, Bramber. Teaching must be definite, or it is
trifling, not teaching; and in sacred matters trifling is a
guilty desertion of a duty. We are sent to feed, not
befool our flocks. Form a clear conception in your mind
of what you want to teach, and then impress it sharply, well
defined, on the minds given you to act upon. So only will
you rear a generation in advance of that to which we belong.
But you will get no praise for so doing, save from your own
conscience.”
Roger Redmore had surrendered to justice, by the advice
of Jason, and he had been sentenced to a nominal punishment
of two months’ imprisonment. Mr. Pooke had readily
pleaded for him, had frankly acknowledged that the man
had been greatly aggravated, and was perhaps hardly sensible
of what he was doing.
On leaving prison, Roger was taken, along with his wife,
into the service of the Cellars, and gave promise of being a
faithful and energetic workman.
.bn 171.png
.pn +1
The spring arrived in course, and with the warm May air
and flowers came the day of Kitty’s marriage.
There had been grave discussions among the instrumentalists
of the village orchestra previous to the event,
as to how it was to be honoured by their performance. In
compliment to the ex-schoolmaster, who took a lively interest
in the marriage, it was unanimously decided that Puddicombe
in F should be performed, if not in its entirety, at all events
in part. The “fugg,” it was thought, might be omitted, as
only a critical and scientific musician could appreciate its
merits and disentangle the chaos of sounds. But there was
the largo molto con affettuoso caprizio at their disposal. As
largo molto meant, Turn the score upside down, then if the
score were not inverted, it would flow in the melody of
“Kitty Alone and I.” Mr. Puddicombe was approached
with the demand whether it were permissible to execute
this movement without the largo molto, i.e. the inversion
of the score. Puddicombe at once assented. That, as he
pointed out, was the magnificent brilliancy of the composition,
that it could be turned about anyhow, and played right
off, and the effect was superb any way. Let them disregard
largo molto and simply play con affettuoso caprizio’which
meant, go ahead with the score upright’and there you
are.
Accordingly, after the ceremony, when bride and bridegroom
issued from the church, the orchestra, which was
in readiness, struck up the movement of Puddicombe in
F, con affettuoso caprizio; and most certainly as it so stood
in the score, and so was performed, the air was none other
.bn 172.png
.pn +1
than “The Frog and the Mouse’Crock-a-mydaisy, Kitty
alone.”
Forward marched the band, playing hautboy, clarionet,
first fiddle, second fiddle, the bass labouring along as best
he could, tumbling over his viol, throwing out a grunt and
a growl when he was able.
The people of Coombe-in-Teignhead were at their doors
wishing happiness to the young couple. The children
strewed flowers, and every now and then broke out into
chorus’
.pm start_poem
“Crock-a-mydaisy, Kitty alone.”
.pm end_poem
The ploughmen whistled the air and waved their caps.
The church bells burst out into clamour and drowned it.
The rooks in the elms of the churchyard poured forth
volleys of “Caw, caw, caw,” introducing a new element
into the musical medley.
Through the street went the little procession, headed by
children, who danced and sang before the band; then came
the musicians, and lastly the married young people. They
were on their way to the Cellars, where Zerah was waiting
for them, and had brought forth cake and ale in
abundance, to feast children, musicians, well-wishers’everyone
who would drink the health of bride and bridegroom.
Then, when the regaling was over, and thundering cheers
had been given for the schoolmaster, for Kitty, for Zerah’Walter
Bramber and Kitty appeared at the door, and
half singing, with a smile on his face, to the strain of
.bn 173.png
.pn +1
“The Frog and the Mouse,” Walter thus tendered his
thanks’
.pm start_poem
“Curtsey, Kitty, and say with me’
Neighbours, thanks for company;
On all the world we will shut the door:
In all the world I need nothing more
Than Kitty, my wife, and Kitty Alone,
Kitty Alone and I.”
.pm end_poem
.ce
THE END
.ce
MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
.bn 174.png
.bn 175.png
.pn a1
.pb
.nf c
A LIST OF NEW BOOKS
AND ANNOUNCEMENTS OF
METHUEN AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS: LONDON
36 ESSEX STREET
W.C.
.nf-
.sp 4
.ce
CONTENTS
.fs 90%
.ta l:40 r:5 w=75% bl=n
| PAGE
FORTHCOMING BOOKS, | #2:Page_a1#
POETRY, | #13:Page_a13#
GENERAL LITERATURE, | #15:Page_a15#
THEOLOGY, | #17:Page_a17#
LEADERS OF RELIGION, | #18:Page_a18#
WORKS BY S. BARING GOULD, | #19:Page_a19#
FICTION, | #21:Page_a21#
NOVEL SERIES, | #24:Page_a24#
BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS, | #25:Page_a25#
THE PEACOCK LIBRARY, | #26:Page_a26#
UNIVERSITY EXTENSION SERIES, | #26:Page_a26#
SOCIAL QUESTIONS OF TO-DAY, | #28:Page_a28#
CLASSICAL TRANSLATIONS, | #29:Page_a29#
COMMERCIAL SERIES, | #29:Page_a29#
WORKS BY A. M. M. STEDMAN, M.A., | #30:Page_a30#
SCHOOL EXAMINATION SERIES, | #32:Page_a32#
PRIMARY CLASSICS, | #32:Page_a32#
.ta-
.fs 100%
.sp 4
.ce
OCTOBER 1894
.bn 176.png
.pn a2
.pb
.rj
October 1894.
.sp 2
.nf c
Messrs. Methuen’s
ANNOUNCEMENTS
.nf-
.hr 15%
.ce
Poetry
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
[May 1895.
Rudyard Kipling. BALLADS. By Rudyard Kipling.
Crown 8vo. Buckram. 6s
.ti -2
The announcement of a new volume of poetry from Mr. Kipling will excite wide
interest. The exceptional success of ‘Barrack-Room Ballads,’ with which this
volume will be uniform, justifies the hope that the new book too will obtain a
wide popularity.
.in
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Henley. ENGLISH LYRICS. Selected and Edited by\
W. E. Henley. Crown 8vo. Buckram. 6s.
.in +2
.nf
Also 30 copies on hand-made paper Demy 8vo. £1, 1s.
Also 15 copies on Japanese paper. Demy 8vo. £2, 2s.
.nf-
.in -2
.ti -2
Few announcements will be more welcome to lovers of English verse than the one
that Mr. Henley is bringing together into one book the finest lyrics in our
language. Robust and original the book will certainly be, and it will be produced
with the same care that made ‘Lyra Heroica’ delightful to the hand and
eye.
.in
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
“Q” THE GOLDEN POMP: A Procession of English Lyrics
from Surrey to Shirley, arranged by A. T. Quiller Couch. Crown
8vo. Buckram. 6s.
.in +2
.nf
Also 40 copies on hand-made paper. Demy 8vo. £1, 1s.
Also 15 copies on Japanese paper. Demy 8vo. £2, 2s.
.nf-
.in -2
.ti -2
Mr. Quiller Couch’s taste and sympathy mark him out as a born anthologist, and
out of the wealth of Elizabethan poetry he has made a book of great attraction.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Beeching. LYRA SACRA: An Anthology of Sacred Verse.
Edited by H. C. Beeching, M.A. Crown 8vo. Buckram. 6s.
.in +2
Also 25 copies on hand-made paper. 21s.
.in -2
.ti -2
This book will appeal to a wide public. Few languages are richer in serious verse
than the English, and the Editor has had some difficulty in confining his material
within his limits.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Yeats. AN ANTHOLOGY OF IRISH VERSE. Edited by
W. B. Yeats. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.bn 177.png
.pn a3
.sp 2
.ce
Illustrated Books
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. A BOOK OF FAIRY TALES retold by S.
Baring Gould. With numerous illustrations and initial letters by
Arthur J. Gaskin. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.in +2
.nf
Also 75 copies on hand-made paper. Demy 8vo. £1, 1s.
Also 20 copies on Japanese paper. Demy 8vo. £2, 2s.
.nf-
.in -2
.ti -2
Few living writers have been more loving students of fairy and folk lore than Mr.
Baring Gould, who in this book returns to the field in which he won his spurs.
This volume consists of the old stories which have been dear to generations of
children, and they are fully illustrated by Mr. Gaskin, whose exquisite designs
for Andersen’s Tales won him last year an enviable reputation.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. A BOOK OF NURSERY SONGS AND
RHYMES. Edited by S. Baring Gould, and illustrated by the
Students of the Birmingham Art School. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.in +2
Also 50 copies on hand-made paper. 4to. 21s.
.in -2
.ti -2
A collection of old nursery songs and rhymes, including a number which are little
known. The book contains some charming illustrations by the Birmingham
students under the superintendence of Mr. Gaskin, and Mr. Baring Gould has
added numerous notes.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Beeching. A BOOK OF CHRISTMAS VERSE. Edited
by H. C. Beeching, M.A., and Illustrated by Walter Crane.
Crown 8vo. 6s.
.in +2
.nf
Also 75 copies on hand-made paper. Demy 8vo. £1, 1s.
Also 20 copies on Japanese paper. Demy 8vo. £2, 2s.
.nf-
.in -2
.ti -2
A collection of the best verse inspired by the birth of Christ from the Middle Ages
to the present day. Mr. Walter Crane has designed some beautiful illustrations.
A distinction of the book is the large number of poems it contains by modern
authors, a few of which are here printed for the first time..
.in
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Jane Barlow. THE BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE,
translated by Jane Barlow, Author of ‘Irish Idylls’ and pictured
by F. D. Bedford. Small 4to. 6s. net.
.in +2
.nf
Also 50 copies on hand-made paper. 4to. 21s. net.
.nf-
.in -2
.ti -2
This is a new version of a famous old fable. Miss Barlow, whose brilliant volume
of ‘Irish Idylls’ has gained her a wide reputation, has told the story in spirited
flowing verse, and Mr. Bedford’s numerous illustrations and ornaments are as
spirited as the verse they picture. The book will be one of the most beautiful
and original books possible.
.in
.bn 178.png
.pn a4
.sp 2
.nf c
Devotional Books
With full-page Illustrations.
.nf-
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. By Thomas À Kempis.
With an Introduction by Archdeacon Farrar. Illustrated by
C. M. Gere. Fcap. 8vo. 5s.
.in +2
.nf
Also 50 copies on hand-made paper. 15s.
.nf-
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. By John Keble. With an Introduction
and Notes by W. Lock, M.A., Sub-Warden of Keble College,
Author of ‘The Life of John Keble,’ Illustrated by R. Anning
Bell. Fcap. 8vo. 5s.
.in +2
.nf
Also 50 copies on hand-made paper. 15s.
.nf-
.in -2
.ti -2
These two volumes will be charming editions of two famous books, finely illustrated
and printed in black and red. The scholarly introductions will give them
an added value, and they will be beautiful to the eye, and of convenient size.
.sp 2
.ce
General Literature
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Gibbon. THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN
EMPIRE. By Edward Gibbon. A New Edition, edited with
Notes and Appendices and Maps by J. B. Bury, M.A., Fellow of
Trinity College, Dublin. In seven volumes. Crown 8vo.
.ti -2
The time seems to have arrived for a new edition of Gibbon’s great work—furnished
with such notes and appendices as may bring it up to the standard of recent historical
research. Edited by a scholar who has made this period his special study,
and issued in a convenient form and at a moderate price, this edition should fill
an obvious void.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Flinders Petrie. A HISTORY OF EGYPT, from the
Earliest Times to the Hyksos. By W. M. Flinders Petrie,
D.C.L., Professor of Egyptology at University College. Fully Illustrated.
Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
This volume is the first of an illustrated History of Egypt in six volumes, intended
both for students and for general reading and reference, and will present a complete
record of what is now known, both of dated monuments and of events, from
the prehistoric age down to modern times. For the earlier periods every trace of
the various kings will be noticed, and all historical questions will be fully discussed.
The volumes will cover the following periods;—
.in +4
.ti -2
I. Prehistoric to Hyksos times. By Prof. Flinders Petrie. II. xviiith to xxth
Dynasties. III. xxist to xxxth Dynasties. IV. The Ptolemaic Rule.
V. The Roman Rule. VI. The Muhammedan Rule.
.in -2
.ti -2
The volumes will be issued separately. The first will be ready in the autumn, the
Muhammedan volume early next year, and others at intervals of half a year.
.bn 179.png
.pn a5
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Flinders Petrie. EGYPTIAN DECORATIVE ART. By
W. M. Flinders Petrie, D.C.L. With 120 Illustrations. Crown
8vo. 3s. 6d.
A book which deals with a subject which has never yet been seriously treated.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Flinders Petrie. EGYPTIAN TALES. Edited by W. M.
Flinders Petrie. Illustrated by Tristram Ellis. Crown 8vo.
3s. 6d.
.in +2
.ti -2
A selection of the ancient tales of Egypt, edited from original sources, and of great
importance as illustrating the life and society of ancient Egypt.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Southey. ENGLISH SEAMEN (Howard, Clifford, Hawkins,
Drake, Cavendish). By Robert Southey. Edited, with an
Introduction, by David Hannay. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
This is a reprint of some excellent biographies of Elizabethan seamen, written by
Southey and never republished. They are practically unknown, and they deserve,
and will probably obtain, a wide popularity.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Waldstein. JOHN RUSKIN: a Study. By Charles Waldstein,
M.A., Fellow of King’s College, Cambridge. With a Photogravure
Portrait after Professor Herkomer. Post 8vo. 5s.
.in +2
.nf
Also 25 copies on Japanese paper. Demy 8vo. 21s.
.nf-
.ti -2
This is a frank and fair appreciation of Mr. Ruskin’s work and influence—literary
and social—by an able critic, who has enough admiration to make him sympathetic,
and enough discernment to make him impartial.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Henley and Whibley. A BOOK OF ENGLISH PROSE.
Collected by W. E. Henley and Charles Whibley. Cr. 8vo. 6s.
.in +2
.nf
Also 40 copies on Dutch paper. 21s. net.
Also 15 copies on Japanese paper. 42s. net.
.nf-
.ti -2
A companion book to Mr. Henley’s well-known ‘Lyra Heroica.’ It is believed that
no such collection of splendid prose has ever been brought within the compass of
one volume. Each piece, whether containing a character-sketch or incident, is
complete in itself. The book will be finely printed and bound.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Robbins. THE EARLY LIFE OF WILLIAM EWART
GLADSTONE. By A. F. Robbins. With Portraits. Crown
8vo. 6s.
.in +2
.ti -2
A full account of the early part of Mr. Gladstone’s extraordinary career, based on
much research, and containing a good deal of new matter, especially with regard
to his school and college days.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. THE DESERTS OF SOUTH CENTRAL
FRANCE. By S. Baring Gould, With numerous Illustrations by
F. D. Bedford, S. Hutton, etc. 2 vols. Demy 8vo. 32s.
.ti -2
This book is the first serious attempt to describe the great barren tableland that
extends to the south of Limousin in the Department of Aveyron, Lot, etc., a
country of dolomite cliffs, and canons, and subterranean rivers. The region is
full of prehistoric and historic interest, relics of cave-dwellers, of mediæval
robbers, and of the English domination and the Hundred Years’ War. The
book is lavishly illustrated.
.bn 180.png
.pn a6
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. A GARLAND OF COUNTRY SONG:
English Folk Songs with their traditional melodies. Collected and
arranged by S. Baring Gould and H. Fleetwood Sheppard.
Royal 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
In collecting West of England airs for ‘Songs of the West,’ the editors came across
a number of songs and airs of considerable merit, which were known throughout
England and could not justly be regarded as belonging to Devon and Cornwall.
Some fifty of these are now given to the world.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Oliphant. THE FRENCH RIVIERA. By Mrs. Oliphant
and F. R. Oliphant. With Illustrations and Maps. Crown 8vo.
6s.
.ti -2
A volume dealing with the French Riviera from Toulon to Mentone. Without falling
within the guide-book category, the book will supply some useful practical
information, while occupying itself chiefly with descriptive and historical matter.
A special feature will be the attention directed to those portions of the Riviera,
which, though full of interest and easily accessible from many well-frequented
spots, are generally left unvisited by English travellers, such as the Maures
Mountains and the St. Tropez district, the country lying between Cannes, Grasse
and the Var, and the magnificent valleys behind Nice. There will be several
original illustrations.
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
George. BRITISH BATTLES. By H. B. George, M.A.,
Fellow of New College, Oxford. With numerous Plans. Crown
8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
This book, by a well-known authority on military history, will be an important
contribution to the literature of the subject. All the great battles of English
history are fully described, connecting chapters carefully treat of the changes
wrought by new discoveries and developments, and the healthy spirit of patriotism
is nowhere absent from the pages.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Shedlock. THE PIANOFORTE SONATA: Its Origin and
Development. By J. S. Shedlock. Crown 8vo. 5s.
.ti -2
This is a practical and not unduly technical account of the Sonata treated historically.
It contains several novel features, and an account of various works little
known to the English public.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Jenks. ENGLISH LOCAL GOVERNMENT. By E. Jenks,
M.A., Professor of Law at University College, Liverpool. Crown
8vo. 2s. 6d.
.ti -2
A short account of Local Government, historical and explanatory, which will appear
very opportunely.
.bn 181.png
.pn a7
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Dixon. A PRIMER OF TENNYSON. By W. M. Dixon,
M. A., Professor of English Literature at Mason College. Fcap. 8vo.
1s. 6d.
.ti -2
This book consists of (1) a succinct but complete biography of Lord Tennyson;
(2) an account of the volumes published by him in chronological order, dealing with
the more important poems separately; (3) a concise criticism of Tennyson in his
various aspects as lyrist, dramatist, and representative poet of his day; (4) a
bibliography. Such a complete book on such a subject, and at such a moderate
price, should find a host of readers.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Oscar Browning. THE AGE OF THE CONDOTTIERI: A
Short History of Italy from 1409 to 1530. By Oscar Browning,
M.A., Fellow of King’s College, Cambridge. Crown 8vo. 5s.
.ti -2
This book is a continuation of Mr. Browning’s ‘Guelphs and Ghibellines,’ and the
two works form a complete account of Italian history from 1250 to 1530.
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
Layard. RELIGION IN BOYHOOD. Notes on the Religious
Training of Boys. With a Preface by J. R. Illingworth.
by E. B. Layard, M.A. 18mo. 1s.
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
Hutton. THE VACCINATION QUESTION. A Letter to
the Right Hon. H. H. Asquith, M.P. by A. W. Hutton,
M.A. Crown 8vo. 1s.
.sp 2
.nf c
Leaders of Religion
NEW VOLUMES
Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.nf-
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
LANCELOT ANDREWES, Bishop of Winchester. By R. L.
Ottley, Principal of Pusey House, Oxford, and Fellow of Magdalen.
With Portrait.
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
St. AUGUSTINE of Canterbury. By E. L. Cutts, D.D.
With a Portrait.
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
THOMAS CHALMERS. By Mrs. Oliphant. With a
Portrait. Second Edition.
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
JOHN KEBLE. By Walter Lock, Sub-Warden of Keble
College. With a Portrait. Seventh Edition.
.in
.bn 182.png
.pn a8
.sp 2
.nf c
English Classics
Edited by W. E. Henley.
.nf-
.in 2
.ti -2
Messrs. Methuen propose to publish, under this title, a series of the masterpieces of
the English tongue.
.ti -2
The ordinary ‘cheap edition’ appears to have served its purpose: the public has
found out the artist-printer, and is now ready for something better fashioned.
This, then, is the moment for the issue of such a series as, while well within the
reach of the average buyer, shall be at once an ornament to the shelf of him that
owns, and a delight to the eye of him that reads.
.ti -2
The series, of which Mr. William Ernest Henley is the general editor, will confine
itself to no single period or department of literature. Poetry, fiction, drama,
biography, autobiography, letters, essays—in all these fields is the material of
many goodly volumes.
.ti -2
The books, which are designed and printed by Messrs. Constable, will be issued in
two editions—
.in
.sp 1
.ti -2
(1) A small edition, on the finest Japanese vellum, limited in most
cases to 75 copies, demy 8vo, 21s. a volume nett;
.ti -2
(2) The popular edition on laid paper, crown 8vo, buckram, 3s. 6d. a
volume.
.in
.ce
The first six numbers are:—
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.
By Lawrence Sterne. With an Introduction by Charles
Whibley, and a Portrait. 2 vols.
.ti -4
THE WORKS OF WILLIAM CONGREVE. With an Introduction
by G. S. Street, and a Portrait. 2 vols.
.ti -4
THE LIVES OF DONNE, WOTTON, HOOKER, HERBERT,
and SANDERSON. By Izaak Walton. With an Introduction
by Vernon Blackburn, and a Portrait.
.ti -4
THE ADVENTURES OF HADJI BABA OF ISPAHAN.
By James Morier. With an Introduction by E. S. Browne, M.A.
.ti -4
THE POEMS OF ROBERT BURNS. With an Introduction
by W. E. Henley, and a Portrait. 2 vols.
.ti -4
THE LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS. By Samuel
Johnson, LL.D. With an Introduction by James Hepburn
Millar, and a Portrait. 3 vols.
.in
.sp 2
.nf c
Classical Translations
NEW VOLUMES
Crown 8vo. Finely printed and bound in blue buckram.
.nf-
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
LUCIAN—Six Dialogues (Nigrinus, Icaro-Menippus, The Cock,
The Ship, The Parasite, The Lover of Falsehood). Translated by S.
T. Irwin, M.A., Assistant Master at Clifton; late Scholar of Exeter
College, Oxford. 3s. 6d.
.bn 183.png
.pn a9
.ti -4
SOPHOCLES—Electra and Ajax. Translated by E. D. A.
Morshead, M.A., late Scholar of New College, Oxford; Assistant
Master at Winchester. 2s. 6d.
.ti -4
TACITUS—Agricola and Germania. Translated by R. B.
Townshend, late Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge. 2s. 6d.
.ti -4
CICERO—Select Orations (Pro Milone, Pro Murena, Philippic II.,
In Catilinam). Translated by H. E. D. Blakiston, M.A., Fellow
and Tutor of Trinity College, Oxford. 5s.
.in
.sp 2
.nf c
University Extension Series
NEW VOLUMES. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
.nf-
.in 2
.ti -2
THE EARTH. An Introduction to Physiography. By Evan
Small, M.A. Illustrated.
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
INSECT LIFE. By F. W. Theobald, M.A. Illustrated.
.in
.sp 2
.nf c
Social Questions of To-day
NEW VOLUME. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
.nf-
.in 4
.ti -4
WOMEN’S WORK. By Lady Dilke, Miss Bulley, and
Miss Whitley.
.sp 2
.ce
Cheaper Editions
.in 4
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Baring Gould. THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAESARS: The
Emperors of the Julian and Claudian Lines. With numerous Illustrations
from Busts, Gems, Cameos, etc. By S. Baring Gould,
Author of ‘Mehalah,’ etc. Third Edition. Royal 8vo. 15s.
.ti -2
‘A most splendid and fascinating book on a subject of undying interest. The great
feature of the book is the use the author has made of the existing portraits of the
Caesars, and the admirable critical subtlety he has exhibited in dealing with this
line of research. It is brilliantly written, and the illustrations are supplied on a
scale of profuse magnificence.’—Daily Chronicle.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Clark Russell. THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL LORD COLLINGWOOD.
By W. Clark Russell, Author of ‘The Wreck
of the Grosvenor.’ With Illustrations by F. Brangwyn. Second
Edition. 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
‘A most excellent and wholesome book, which we should like to see in the hands of
every boy in the country.’—St. James’s Gazette.
.bn 184.png
.pn a10
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Fiction
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.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. KITTY ALONE. By S. Baring Gould,
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A romance of Devon life.
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Norris. MATTHEW AUSTIN. By W. E. Norris, Author of
‘Mdle. de Mersai,’ etc. 3 vols. Crown 8vo.
in 4
A story of English social life by the well-known author of ‘The Rogue.’
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Parker. THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD. By Gilbert
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A historical romance dealing with a stirring period in the history of Canada.
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Anthony Hope. THE GOD IN THE CAR. By Anthony
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A story of modern society by the clever author of ‘The Prisoner of Zenda.’
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Mrs. Watson. THIS MAN’S DOMINION. By the Author
of ‘A High Little World.’ 2 vols. Crown 8vo.
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Conan Doyle. ROUND THE RED LAMP. By A. Conan
Doyle, Author of ‘The White Company,’ ‘The Adventures of Sherlock
Holmes,’ etc. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
This volume, by the well-known author of ‘The Refugees,’ contains the experiences
of a general practitioner, round whose ‘Red Lamp’ cluster many dramas—some
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Barr. IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS. By Robert Barr,
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Benson. SUBJECT TO VANITY. By Margaret Benson.
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X. L. AUT DIABOLUS AUT NIHIL, and Other Stories.
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A collection of stories of much weird power. The title story appeared some years
ago in ‘Blackwood’s Magazine,’ and excited considerable attention. The
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The conception, if self-generated, is almost as lofty as Milton’s.’
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Morrison. LIZERUNT, and other East End Idylls. By
Arthur Morrison. Crown 8vo. 6s.
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Observer,’ and have been much praised for their truth and strength and pathos.
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O’Grady. THE COMING OF CURCULAIN. By Standish
O’Grady, Author of ‘Finn and his Companions,’ etc. Illustrated
by Murray Smith. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
The story of the boyhood of one of the legendary heroes of Ireland.
.in
.bn 185.png
.pn a11
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New Editions
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E. F. Benson. THE RUBICON. By E. F. Benson, Author
of ‘Dodo.’ Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
Mr. Benson’s second novel has been, in its two volume form, almost as great a
success as his first. The ‘Birmingham Post’ says it is ‘well written, stimulating,
unconventional, and, in a word, characteristic’: the ‘National Observer’
congratulates Mr. Benson upon ‘an exceptional achievement,’ and calls the
book ‘a notable advance on his previous work.’
.sp 1
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.ti -4
Stanley Weyman. UNDER THE RED ROBE. By Stanley
Weyman, Author of ‘A Gentleman of France.’ With Twelve Illustrations
by R. Caton Woodville. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
A cheaper edition of a book which won instant popularity. No unfavourable review
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it all and start again.’ The ‘Daily Chronicle’ said that ‘every one who reads
books at all must read this thrilling romance, from the first page of which to the
last the breathless reader is haled along.’ It also called the book ‘an inspiration
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and adventure, vivid and dramatic, with a wholesome modesty and reverence
for the highest.’
.sp 1
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Baring Gould. THE QUEEN OF LOVE. By S. Baring
Gould, Author of ‘Cheap Jack Zita,’ etc. Second Edition.
Crown 8vo, 6s..in 2
.ti -2
‘The scenery is admirable and the dramatic incidents most striking.’—Glasgow
Herald.
.ti -2
‘Strong, interesting, and clever.’—Westminster Gazette.
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‘You cannot put it down till you have finished it.’—Punch.
.ti -2
‘Can be heartily recommended to all who care for cleanly, energetic, and interesting
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Mrs. Oliphant. THE PRODIGALS. By Mrs. Oliphant.
Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
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Richard Pryce. WINIFRED MOUNT. By Richard Pryce.
Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
The ‘Sussex Daily News’ called this book ‘a delightful story’, and said that the
writing was ‘uniformly bright and graceful.’ The ‘Daily Telegraph’ said that the
author was a ‘deft and elegant story-teller,’ and that the book was ‘an extremely
clever story, utterly untainted by pessimism or vulgarity.’
.sp 1
.in 4
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Constance Smith. A CUMBERER OF THE GROUND.
By Constance Smith, Author of ‘The Repentance of Paul Wentworth,’
etc. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.bn 186.png
.pn a12
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School Books
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A VOCABULARY OF LATIN IDIOMS AND PHRASES.
By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. 18mo. 1s.
.sp 1
.ti -4
STEPS TO GREEK. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. 18mo.
1s. 6d.
.sp 1
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A SHORTER GREEK PRIMER OF ACCIDENCE AND
SYNTAX. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Crown 8vo. 1s. 6d.
.sp 1
.ti -4
SELECTIONS FROM THE ODYSSEY. With Introduction
and Notes. By E. D. Stone, M.A., late Assistant Master at Eton.
Fcap. 8vo. 2s.
.sp 1
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THE ELEMENTS OF ELECTRICITY AND MAGNETISM.
With numerous Illustrations. By R. G. Steel, M. A., Head Master
of the Technical Schools, Northampton. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.
.sp 1
.ti -4
THE ENGLISH CITIZEN: His Rights and Duties. By
H. E. Malden, M.A. Crown 8vo. 1s. 6d.
A simple account of the privileges and duties of the English citizen.
.sp 1
.ti -4
INDEX POETARUM LATINORUM. By E. F. Benecke,
M.A. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.
A concordance to Latin Lyric Poetry.
.sp 2
.ce
Commercial Series
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.ti -4
A PRIMER OF BUSINESS. By S. Jackson, M.A. Crown
8vo. 1s. 6d.
.sp 1
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COMMERCIAL ARITHMETIC. By F. G. Taylor. Crown
8vo. 1s. 6d.
.bn 187.png
.pn a13
.sp 2
.nf c
New and Recent Books
Poetry
.nf-
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Rudyard Kipling. BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS; And
Other Verses. By Rudyard Kipling. Seventh Edition. Crown
8vo. 6s.
.in +4
.ti -2
A Special Presentation Edition, bound in white buckram, with
extra gilt ornament. 7s. 6d.
.in 4
.ti -2
‘Mr. Kipling’s verse is strong, vivid, full of character.... Unmistakable genius
rings in every line.’—Times.
.ti -2
‘The disreputable lingo of Cockayne is henceforth justified before the world; for a
man of genius has taken it in hand, and has shown, beyond all cavilling, that in
its way it also is a medium for literature. You are grateful, and you say to
yourself, half in envy and half in admiration: “Here is a book; here, or one is a
Dutchman, is one of the books of the year.”’—National Observer.
.ti -2
‘“Barrack-Room Ballads” contains some of the best work that Mr. Kipling has
ever done, which is saying a good deal. “Fuzzy-Wuzzy,” “Gunga Din,” and
“Tommy,” are, in our opinion, altogether superior to anything of the kind that
English literature has hitherto produced.’—Athenæum.
.ti -2
‘These ballads are as wonderful in their descriptive power as they are vigorous in
their dramatic force. There are few ballads in the English language more
stirring than “The Ballad of East and West,” worthy to stand by the Border
ballads of Scott.’—Spectator.
.ti -2
‘The ballads teem with imagination, they palpitate with emotion. We read them
with laughter and tears; the metres throb in our pulses, the cunningly ordered
words tingle with life; and if this be not poetry, what is?’—Pall Mall Gazette.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Henley. LYRA HEROICA: An Anthology selected from the
best English Verse of the 16th, 17th, 18th, and 19th Centuries. By
William Ernest Henley, Author of ‘A Book of Verse,’ ‘Views
and Reviews,’ etc. Crown 8vo. Stamped gilt buckram, gilt top,
edges uncut. 6s.
.ti -2
‘Mr. Henley has brought to the task of selection an instinct alike for poetry and for
chivalry which seems to us quite wonderfully, and even unerringly, right.’—Guardian.
.sp 1
.in 4
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Tomson. A SUMMER NIGHT, AND OTHER POEMS. By
Graham R. Tomson. With Frontispiece by A. Tomson. Fcap.
8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
An edition on hand-made paper, limited to 50 copies. 10s. 6d. net.
.ti -2
‘Mrs. Tomson holds perhaps the very highest rank among poetesses of English birth.
This selection will help her reputation.’—Black and White.
.bn 188.png
.pn a14
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Ibsen. BRAND. A Drama by Henrik Ibsen. Translated by
William Wilson. Crown 8vo. Second Edition. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘The greatest world-poem of the nineteenth century next to “Faust.” “Brand”
will have an astonishing interest for Englishmen. It is in the same set with
“Agamemnon,” with “Lear,” with the literature that we now instinctively regard
as high and holy.’—Daily Chronicle.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
“Q.” GREEN BAYS: Verses and Parodies. By “Q.,” Author
of ‘Dead Man’s Rock’ etc. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘The verses display a rare and versatile gift of parody, great command of metre, and
a very pretty turn of humour.’—Times.
.sp 1
.in 4
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“A. G.” VERSES TO ORDER. By “A. G.” Cr. 8vo. 2s.6d.
net.
.ti -2
A small volume of verse by a writer whose initials are well known to Oxford men.
.ti -2
‘A capital specimen of light academic poetry. These verses are very bright and
engaging, easy and sufficiently witty.’—St. James’s Gazette.
.sp 1
.in 4
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Hosken. VERSES BY THE WAY. By J. D. Hosken.
Crown 8vo. 5s.
A small edition on hand-made paper. Price 12s. 6d. net.
.ti -2
A Volume of Lyrics and Sonnets by J. D. Hosken, the Postman Poet. Q, the
Author of ‘The Splendid Spur,’ writes a critical and biographical introduction.
.sp 1
.in 4
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Gale. CRICKET SONGS. By Norman Gale. Crown 8vo.
Linen. 2s. 6d.
Also a limited edition on hand-made paper. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.
net.
.in 4
.ti -2
‘They are wrung out of the excitement of the moment, and palpitate with the spirit
of the game.’—Star.
.ti -2
‘As healthy as they are spirited, and ought to have a great success.’—Times.
.ti -2
‘Simple, manly, and humorous. Every cricketer should buy the book.’—Westminster
Gazette.
.ti -2
‘Cricket has never known such a singer.’—Cricket.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Langbridge. BALLADS OF THE BRAVE: Poems of Chivalry,
Enterprise, Courage, and Constancy, from the Earliest Times to the
Present Day. Edited, with Notes, by Rev. F. Langbridge.
Crown 8vo. Buckram 3s. 6d. School Edition, 2s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘A very happy conception happily carried out. These “Ballads of the Brave” are
intended to suit the real tastes of boys, and will suit the taste of the great majority.’—Spectator.
.ti -2
‘The book is full of splendid things.’—World.
.in
.bn 189.png
.pn a15
.sp 2
.ce
General Literature
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Collingwood. JOHN RUSKIN: His Life and Work. By
W. G. Collingwood, M.A., late Scholar of University College,
Oxford, Author of the ‘Art Teaching of John Ruskin,’ Editor of
Mr. Ruskin’s Poems. 2 vols. 8vo. 32s. Second Edition.
.ti -2
This important work is written by Mr. Collingwood, who has been for some years
Mr. Ruskin’s private secretary, and who has had unique advantages in obtaining
materials for this book from Mr. Ruskin himself and from his friends. It contains
a large amount of new matter, and of letters which have never been published,
and is, in fact, a full and authoritative biography of Mr. Ruskin. The book
contains numerous portraits of Mr. Ruskin, including a coloured one from a
water-colour portrait by himself, and also 13 sketches, never before published, by
Mr. Ruskin and Mr. Arthur Severn. A bibliography is added.
.ti -2
‘No more magnificent volumes have been published for a long time....’—Times.
.ti -2
‘This most lovingly written and most profoundly interesting book.’—Daily News.
.ti -2
‘It is long since we have had a biography with such varied delights of substance
and of form. Such a book is a pleasure for the day, and a joy for ever.’—Daily
Chronicle.
.ti -2
‘Mr. Ruskin could not well have been more fortunate in his biographer.’—Globe.
.ti -2
‘A noble monument of a noble subject. One of the most beautiful books about one
of the noblest lives of our century.’—Glasgow Herald.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Gladstone. THE SPEECHES AND PUBLIC ADDRESSES
OF THE RT. HON. W. E. GLADSTONE, M.P. With Notes
and Introductions. Edited by A. W. Hutton, M.A. (Librarian of
the Gladstone Library), and H. J. Cohen, M.A. With Portraits.
8vo. Vols. IX. and X. 12s. 6d. each.
.ti -4
Clark Russell. THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL LORD COLLINGWOOD.
By W. Clark Russell, Author of ‘The Wreck
of the Grosvenor.’ With Illustrations by F. Brangwyn. Second
Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
‘A really good book.’—Saturday Review.
.ti -2
‘A most excellent and wholesome book, which we should like to see in the hands of
every boy in the country.’—St. James’s Gazette.
.sp 1
.in 4
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Clark. THE COLLEGES OF OXFORD: Their History and
their Traditions. By Members of the University. Edited by A.
Clark, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Lincoln College. 8vo. 12s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘Whether the reader approaches the book as a patriotic member of a college, as an
antiquary, or as a student of the organic growth of college foundation, it will amply
reward his attention.’—Times.
.ti -2
‘A delightful book, learned and lively.’—Academy.
.ti -2
‘A work which will certainly be appealed to for many years as the standard book on
the Colleges of Oxford.’—Athenæum.
.in
.bn 190.png
.pn a16
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Wells. OXFORD AND OXFORD LIFE. By Members of
the University. Edited by J. Wells, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of
Wadham College. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
This work contains an account of life at Oxford—intellectual, social, and religious—a
careful estimate of necessary expenses, a review of recent changes, a statement
of the present position of the University, and chapters on Women’s Education,
aids to study, and University Extension.
.ti -2
‘We congratulate Mr. Wells on the production of a readable and intelligent account
of Oxford as it is at the present time, written by persons who are, with hardly an
exception, possessed of a close acquaintance with the system and life of the
University.’—Athenæum.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Perrens. THE HISTORY OF FLORENCE FROM THE
TIME OF THE MEDICIS TO THE FALL OF THE
REPUBLIC. By F. T. Perrens. Translated by Hannah
Lynch. In Three Volumes. Vol. I. 8vo. 12s. 6d.
.ti -2
This is a translation from the French of the best history of Florence in existence.
This volume covers a period of profound interest—political and literary—and
is written with great vivacity.
.ti -2
‘This is a standard book by an honest and intelligent historian, who has deserved
well of his countrymen, and of all who are interested in Italian history.’—Manchester
Guardian.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Browning. GUELPHS AND GHIBELLINES: A Short History
of Mediæval Italy, A.D. 1250-1409. By Oscar Browning, Fellow
and Tutor of King’s College, Cambridge. Second Edition. Crown
8vo. 5s.
.ti -2
‘A very able book.’—Westminster Gazette.
.ti -2
‘A vivid picture of mediæval Italy.’—Standard.
.sp 1
.in 4
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O’Grady. THE STORY OF IRELAND. By Standish
O’Grady, Author of ‘Finn and his Companions.’ Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘Novel and very fascinating history. Wonderfully alluring.’—Cork Examiner.
.ti -2
‘Most delightful, most stimulating. Its racy humour, its original imaginings, its
perfectly unique history, make it one of the freshest, breeziest volumes.’—Methodist
Times.
.ti -2
‘A survey at once graphic, acute, and quaintly written.’—Times.
.sp 1
.in 4
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Dixon. ENGLISH POETRY FROM BLAKE TO BROWNING.
By W. M. Dixon, M.A. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
A Popular Account of the Poetry of the Century.
.ti -2
‘Scholarly in conception, and full of sound and suggestive criticism.’—Times.
.ti -2
‘The book is remarkable for freshness of thought expressed in graceful language.’—Manchester
Examiner.
.sp 1
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.ti -4
Bowden. THE EXAMPLE OF BUDDHA: Being Quotations
from Buddhist Literature for each Day in the Year. Compiled
by E. M. Bowden. With Preface by Sir Edwin Arnold. Third
Edition. 16mo. 2s. 6d.
.bn 191.png
.pn a17
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Flinders Petrie. TELL EL AMARNA. By W. M. Flinders
Petrie, D.C.L. With chapters by Professor A. H. Sayce, D.D.;
F. Ll. Griffith, F.S.A.; and F. C. J. Spurrell, F.G.S. With
numerous coloured illustrations. Royal 4to. 20s. net.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Massee. A MONOGRAPH OF THE MYXOGASTRES. By
George Massee. With 12 Coloured Plates. Royal 8vo. 18s. net.
.ti -2
‘A work much in advance of any book in the language treating of this group of
organisms. It is indispensable to every student of the Myxogastres. The
coloured plates deserve high praise for their accuracy and execution.’—Nature.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Bushill. PROFIT SHARING AND THE LABOUR QUESTION.
By T. W. Bushill, a Profit Sharing Employer. With an
Introduction by Sedley Taylor, Author of ‘Profit Sharing between
Capital and Labour.’ Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
John Beever. PRACTICAL FLY-FISHING, Founded on
Nature, by John Beever, late of the Thwaite House, Coniston. A
New Edition, with a Memoir of the Author by W. G. Collingwood,
M.A. Also additional Notes and a chapter on Char-Fishing, by A.
and A. R. Severn. With a specially designed title-page. Crown
8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
A little book on Fly-Fishing by an old friend of Mr. Ruskin. It has been out of
print for some time, and being still much in request, is now issued with a Memoir
of the Author by W. G. Collingwood.
.sp 2
.ce
Theology
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Driver. SERMONS ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH
THE OLD TESTAMENT. By S. R. Driver, D.D., Canon of
Christ Church, Regius Professor of Hebrew in the University of
Oxford. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
‘A welcome companion to the author’s famous ‘Introduction.’ No man can read these
discourses without feeling that Dr. Driver is fully alive to the deeper teaching of
the Old Testament.’—Guardian.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Cheyne. FOUNDERS OF OLD TESTAMENT CRITICISM:
Biographical, Descriptive, and Critical Studies. By T. K. Cheyne,
D.D., Oriel Professor of the Interpretation of Holy Scripture at
Oxford. Large crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.
.ti -2
This important book is a historical sketch of O.T. Criticism in the form of biographical
studies from the days of Eichhorn to those of Driver and Robertson Smith.
It is the only book of its kind in English.
.ti -2
‘The volume is one of great interest and value. It displays all the author’s well-known
ability and learning, and its opportune publication has laid all students of
theology, and specially of Bible criticism, under weighty obligation.’—Scotsman.
.ti -2
‘A very learned and instructive work.’—Times.
.bn 192.png
.pn a18
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Prior. CAMBRIDGE SERMONS. Edited by C. H. Prior,
M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Pembroke College. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
A volume of sermons preached before the University of Cambridge by various
preachers, including the Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop Westcott.
.ti -2
‘A representative collection. Bishop Westcott’s is a noble sermon.’—Guardian.
.ti -2
‘Full of thoughtfulness and dignity.’—Record.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Beeching. BRADFIELD SERMONS. Sermons by H. C.
Beeching, M.A., Rector of Yattendon, Berks. With a Preface by
Canon Scott Holland. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
.ti -2
Seven sermons preached before the boys of Bradfield College.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
James. CURIOSITIES OF CHRISTIAN HISTORY PRIOR
TO THE REFORMATION. By Croake James, Author of
‘Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.’ Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘This volume contains a great deal of quaint and curious matter, affording some
“particulars of the interesting persons, episodes, and events from the Christian’s
point of view during the first fourteen centuries.” Wherever we dip into his pages
we find something worth dipping into.’—John Bull.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Kaufmann. CHARLES KINGSLEY. By M. Kaufmann,
M.A. Crown 8vo. Buckram. 5s.
.ti -2
A biography of Kingsley, especially dealing with his achievements in social reform.
.ti -2
‘The author has certainly gone about his work with conscientiousness and industry.’—Sheffield
Daily Telegraph.
.sp 2
.nf c
Leaders of Religion
Edited by H. C. BEECHING, M.A. With Portraits, crown 8vo.
.nf-
.in 2
2/6 & 3/6
A series of short biographies of the most prominent
leaders of religious life and thought of
all ages and countries.
The following are ready—\ \ \ \ \ \ \ 2s. 6d.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
CARDINAL NEWMAN. By R. H. Hutton. Second Edition.
.in 4
.ti -2
‘Few who read this book will fail to be struck by the wonderful insight it displays
into the nature of the Cardinal’s genius and the spirit of his life.’—Wilfrid
Ward, in the Tablet.
.ti -2
‘Full of knowledge, excellent in method, and intelligent in criticism. We regard it
as wholly admirable.’—Academy.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
JOHN WESLEY. By J. H. Overton, M.A.
.ti -2
‘It is well done: the story is clearly told, proportion is duly observed, and there is
no lack either of discrimination or of sympathy.’—Manchester Guardian.
.bn 193.png
.pn a19
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
BISHOP WILBERFORCE. By G. W. Daniel, M.A.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
CARDINAL MANNING. By A. W. Hutton, M.A.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
CHARLES SIMEON. By H. C. G. Moule, M.A.
.ce
3s. 6d.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
JOHN KEBLE. By Walter Lock, M.A. Seventh Edition.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THOMAS CHALMERS. By Mrs. Oliphant. Second Edition.
.sp 1
.ce
Other volumes will be announced in due course.
.sp 2
.ce
Works by S. Baring Gould
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
OLD COUNTRY LIFE. With Sixty-seven Illustrations by
W. Parkinson, F. D. Bedford, and F. Masey. Large Crown
8vo, cloth super extra, top edge gilt, 10s. 6d. Fourth and Cheaper
Edition. 6s.
.ti -2
‘“Old Country Life,” as healthy wholesome reading, full of breezy life and movement,
full of quaint stories vigorously told, will not be excelled by any book to be
published throughout the year. Sound, hearty, and English to the core.’—World.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
HISTORIC ODDITIES AND STRANGE EVENTS. Third
Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
‘A collection of exciting and entertaining chapters. The whole volume is delightful
reading.’—Times.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
FREAKS OF FANATICISM. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
‘Mr. Baring Gould has a keen eye for colour and effect, and the subjects he has
chosen give ample scope to his descriptive and analytic faculties. A perfectly
fascinating book.’—Scottish Leader.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
SONGS OF THE WEST: Traditional Ballads and Songs of
the West of England, with their Traditional Melodies. Collected
by S. Baring Gould, M.A., and H. Fleetwood Sheppard,
M.A. Arranged for Voice and Piano. In 4 Parts (containing 25
Songs each), Parts I., II., III., 3s. each. Part IV., 5s. In one
Vol., French morocco, 15s.
.ti -2
‘A rich and varied collection of humour, pathos, grace, and poetic fancy.’—Saturday
Review.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
YORKSHIRE ODDITIES AND STRANGE EVENTS.
Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.bn 194.png
.pn a20
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
STRANGE SURVIVALS AND SUPERSTITIONS. With
Illustrations. By S. Baring Gould. Crown 8vo. Second Edition.
6s.
.ti -2
A book on such subjects as Foundations, Gables, Holes, Gallows, Raising the Hat, Old
Ballads, etc. etc. It traces in a most interesting manner their origin and history.
.ti -2
‘We have read Mr. Baring Gould’s book from beginning to end. It is full of quaint
and various information, and there is not a dull page in it.’—Notes and Queries.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAESARS: The
Emperors of the Julian and Claudian Lines. With numerous Illustrations
from Busts, Gems, Cameos, etc. By S. Baring Gould,
Author of ‘Mehalah,’ etc. Third Edition. Royal 8vo. 15s.
.ti -2
‘A most splendid and fascinating book on a subject of undying interest. The great
feature of the book is the use the author has made of the existing portraits of the
Caesars, and the admirable critical subtlety he has exhibited in dealing with this
line of research. It is brilliantly written, and the illustrations are supplied on a
scale of profuse magnificence.’—Daily Chronicle.
.ti -2
‘The volumes will in no sense disappoint the general reader. Indeed, in their way,
there is nothing in any sense so good in English.... Mr. Baring Gould has
presented his narrative in such a way as not to make one dull page.’—Athenæum.
.in
.sp 1
.ce
MR. BARING GOULD’S NOVELS
.sp 1
.in 2
.ti -2
‘To say that a book is by the author of “Mehalah” is to imply that it contains a
story cast on strong lines, containing dramatic possibilities, vivid and sympathetic
descriptions of Nature, and a wealth of ingenious imagery.’—Speaker.
.ti -2
‘That whatever Mr. Baring Gould writes is well worth reading, is a conclusion that
may be very generally accepted. His views of life are fresh and vigorous, his
language pointed and characteristic, the incidents of which he makes use are
striking and original, his characters are life-like, and though somewhat exceptional
people, are drawn and coloured with artistic force. Add to this that his
descriptions of scenes and scenery are painted with the loving eyes and skilled
hands of a master of his art, that he is always fresh and never dull, and under
such conditions it is no wonder that readers have gained confidence both in his
power of amusing and satisfying them, and that year by year his popularity
widens.’—Court Circular.
.sp 1
.ce
SIX SHILLINGS EACH
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
.ul style=none
.it IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA: A Tale of the Cornish Coast.
.it MRS. CURGENVEN OF CURGENVEN.
.it CHEAP JACK ZITA.
.it THE QUEEN OF LOVE.
.ul-
.ce
THREE SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE EACH
.ul style=none
.it ARMINELL: A Social Romance.
.it URITH: A Story of Dartmoor.
.it MARGERY OF QUETHER, and other Stories.
.it JACQUETTA, and other Stories.
.ul-
.bn 195.png
.pn a21
.sp 2
.nf c
Fiction
SIX SHILLING NOVELS
.nf-
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Corelli. BARABBAS: A DREAM OF THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. By Marie Corelli, Author of ‘A Romance of Two
Worlds,’ ‘Vendetta,’ etc. Eleventh Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
Miss Corelli’s new romance has been received with much disapprobation by the
secular papers, and with warm welcome by the religious papers. By the former
she has been accused of blasphemy and bad taste; ‘a gory nightmare’; ‘a hideous
travesty’; ‘grotesque vulgarisation’; ‘unworthy of criticism’; ‘vulgar redundancy’;
‘sickening details’—these are some of the secular flowers of speech.
On the other hand, the ‘Guardian’ praises ‘the dignity of its conceptions, the
reserve round the Central Figure, the fine imagery of the scene and circumstance,
so much that is elevating and devout’; the ‘Illustrated Church News’ styles the
book ‘reverent and artistic, broad based on the rock of our common nature, and
appealing to what is best in it’; the ‘Christian World’ says it is written ‘by one
who has more than conventional reverence, who has tried to tell the story that it
may be read again with open and attentive eyes’; the ‘Church of England
Pulpit’ welcomes ‘a book which teems with faith without any appearance of
irreverence.’
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Benson. DODO: A DETAIL OF THE DAY. By E. F.
Benson. Crown 8vo. Fourteenth Edition. 6s.
.ti -2
A story of society by a new writer, full of interest and power, which has attracted
by its brilliance universal attention. The best critics were cordial in their
praise. The ‘Guardian’ spoke of ‘Dodo’ as unusually clever and interesting;
the ‘Spectator’ called it a delightfully witty sketch of society; the ‘Speaker’
said the dialogue was a perpetual feast of epigram and paradox; the
‘Athenæum’ spoke of the author as a writer of quite exceptional ability;
the ‘Academy’ praised his amazing cleverness; the ‘World’ said the book was
brilliantly written; and half-a-dozen papers declared there was not a dull page
in the book.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA: A Tale of
the Cornish Coast. By S. Baring Gould. New Edition. 6s.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. MRS. CURGENVEN OF CURGENVEN.
By S. Baring Gould. Third Edition. 6s.
.ti -2
A story of Devon life. The ‘Graphic’ speaks of it as a novel of vigorous humour and
sustained power; the ‘Sussex Daily News’ says that the swing of the narrative
is splendid; and the ‘Speaker’ mentions its bright imaginative power.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. CHEAP JACK ZITA. By S. Baring Gould.
Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
A Romance of the Ely Fen District in 1815, which the ‘Westminster Gazette’ calls
‘a powerful drama of human passion’; and the ‘National Observer’ ‘a story
worthy the author.’
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. THE QUEEN OF LOVE. By S. Baring
Gould. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
The ‘Glasgow Herald’ says that ‘the scenery is admirable, and the dramatic incidents
are most striking.’ The ‘Westminster Gazette’ calls the book ‘strong,
interesting, and clever.’ ‘Punch’ says that ‘you cannot put it down until you
have finished it.’ ‘The Sussex Daily News’ says that it ‘can be heartily recommended
to all who care for cleanly, energetic, and interesting fiction.’
.bn 196.png
.pn a22
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Norris. HIS GRACE. By W. E. Norris, Author of
‘Mademoiselle de Mersac.’ Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
‘The characters are delineated by the author with his characteristic skill and
vivacity, and the story is told with that ease of manners and Thackerayean insight
which give strength of flavour to Mr. Norris’s novels. No one can depict
the Englishwoman of the better classes with more subtlety.’—Glasgow Herald.
.ti -2
‘Mr. Norris has drawn a really fine character in the Duke of Hurstbourne, at once
unconventional and very true to the conventionalities of life, weak and strong in
a breath, capable of inane follies and heroic decisions, yet not so definitely portrayed
as to relieve a reader of the necessity of study on his own behalf.’—Athenæum.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Parker. MRS. FALCHION. By Gilbert Parker, Author of
‘Pierre and His People.’ New Edition. 6s.
.ti -2
Mr. Parker’s second book has received a warm welcome. The ‘Athenæum’ called
it a splendid study of character; the ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ spoke of the writing as
but little behind anything that has been done by any writer of our time; the
‘St. James’s’ called it a very striking and admirable novel; and the ‘Westminster
Gazette’ applied to it the epithet of distinguished.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Parker. PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE. By Gilbert
Parker. Crown 8vo. Buckram. 6s.
.ti -2
‘Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and genius in Mr.
Parker’s style.’—Daily Telegraph.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Parker. THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. By Gilbert
Parker, Author of ‘Pierre and His People,’ ‘Mrs. Falchion,’ etc.
Crown 8vo. 5s.
.ti -4
‘The plot is original and one difficult to work out; but Mr. Parker has done it with
great skill and delicacy. The reader who is not interested in this original, fresh,
and well-told tale must be a dull person indeed.’—Daily Chronicle.
.ti -4
‘A strong and successful piece of workmanship. The portrait of Lali, strong, dignified,
and pure, is exceptionally well drawn.’—Manchester Guardian.
.ti -4
‘A very pretty and interesting story, and Mr. Parker tells it with much skill. The
story is one to be read.’—St. James’s Gazette.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Anthony Hope. A CHANGE OF AIR: A Novel. By
Anthony Hope, Author of ‘The Prisoner of Zenda,’ etc.
Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
A bright story by Mr. Hope, who has, the Athenæum says, ‘a decided outlook and
individuality of his own.’
.ti -2
‘A graceful, vivacious comedy, true to human nature. The characters are traced
with a masterly hand.’—Times.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Pryce. TIME AND THE WOMAN. By Richard Pryce,
Author of ‘Miss Maxwell’s Affections,’ ‘The Quiet Mrs. Fleming,’
etc. New and Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
‘Mr. Pryce’s work recalls the style of Octave Feuillet, by its clearness, conciseness,
its literary reserve.’—Athenæum.
.bn 197.png
.pn a23
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Marriott Watson. DIOGENES OF LONDON and other
Sketches. By H. B. Marriott Watson, Author of ‘The Web
of the Spider.’ Crown 8vo. Buckram. 6s.
.ti -2
‘By all those who delight in the uses of words, who rate the exercise of prose above
the exercise of verse, who rejoice in all proofs of its delicacy and its strength, who
believe that English prose is chief among the moulds of thought, by these
Mr. Marriott Watson’s book will be welcomed.’—National Observer.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Gilchrist. THE STONE DRAGON. By Murray Gilchrist.
Crown 8vo. Buckram. 6s.
.ti -2
‘The author’s faults are atoned for by certain positive and admirable merits. The
romances have not their counterpart in modern literature, and to read them is a
unique experience.’—National Observer.
.ce
THREE-AND-SIXPENNY NOVELS
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. ARMINELL: A Social Romance. By S.
Baring Gould. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -4
Baring Gould. URITH: A Story of Dartmoor. By S. Baring
Gould. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘The author is at his best.’—Times.
.ti -2
‘He has nearly reached the high water-mark of “Mehalah.”’—National Observer.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. MARGERY OF QUETHER, and other Stories.
By S. Baring Gould. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. JACQUETTA, and other Stories. By S. Baring
Gould. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Gray. ELSA. A Novel. By E. M’Queen Gray. Crown 8vo.
3s. 6d.
.ti -4
‘A charming novel. The characters are not only powerful sketches, but minutely
and carefully finished portraits.’—Guardian.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Pearce. JACO TRELOAR. By J. H. Pearce, Author of
‘Esther Pentreath.’ New Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
A tragic story of Cornish life by a writer of remarkable power, whose first novel has
been highly praised by Mr. Gladstone.
.ti -2
The ‘Spectator’ speaks of Mr. Pearce as a writer of exceptional power; the ‘Daily
Telegraph’ calls the book powerful and picturesque; the ‘Birmingham Post’
asserts that it is a novel of high quality.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Edna Lyall. DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST. By
Edna Lyall, Author of ‘Donovan,’ etc. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.sp 1
.ti -4
Clark Russell. MY DANISH SWEETHEART. By W.
Clark Russell, Author of ‘The Wreck of the Grosvenor,’ etc.
Illustrated. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.bn 198.png
.pn a24
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Author of ‘Vera.’ THE DANCE OF THE HOURS. By
the Author of ‘Vera.’ Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Esmè Stuart. A WOMAN OF FORTY. By Esmè Stuart,
Author of ‘Muriel’s Marriage,’ ‘Virginié’s Husband,’ etc. New
Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘The story is well written, and some of the scenes show great dramatic power.’—Daily
Chronicle.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Fenn. THE STAR GAZERS. By G. Manville Fenn,
Author of ‘Eli’s Children,’ etc. New Edition. Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘A stirring romance.’—Western Morning News.
.ti -2
‘Told with all the dramatic power for which Mr. Fenn is conspicuous.’—Bradford
Observer.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Dickinson. A VICAR’S WIFE. By Evelyn Dickinson.
Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Prowse. THE POISON OF ASPS. By R. Orton Prowse.
Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Grey. THE STORY OF CHRIS. By Rowland Grey.
Crown 8vo. 5s.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Lynn Linton. THE TRUE HISTORY OF JOSHUA DAVIDSON,
Christian and Communist. By E. Lynn Linton. Eleventh
Edition. Post 8vo. 1s.
.in
.ce
HALF-CROWN NOVELS
2/6
.ce
A Series of Novels by popular Authors, tastefully\
bound in cloth.
.ul style=none
.it 1. THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. By F. Mabel Robinson.
.it 2. DISENCHANTMENT. By F. Mabel Robinson.
.it 3. MR. BUTLER’S WARD. By F. Mabel Robinson.
.it 4. HOVENDEN, V.C. By F. Mabel Robinson.
.it 5. ELI’S CHILDREN. By G. Manville Fenn.
.it 6. A DOUBLE KNOT. By G. Manville Fenn.
.it 7. DISARMED. By Betham Edwards.
.it 8. A LOST ILLUSION. By Leslie Keith.
.it 9. A MARRIAGE AT SEA. By W. Clark Russell.
.bn 199.png
.pn a25
.it 10. IN TENT AND BUNGALOW. By the Author of ‘Indian Idylls.’
.it 11. MY STEWARDSHIP. By E. M’Queen Gray.
.it 12. A REVEREND GENTLEMAN. By J. M. Cobban.
.it 13. A DEPLORABLE AFFAIR. By W. E. Norris.
.it 14. JACK’S FATHER. By W. E. Norris.
.ul-
.ce
Other volumes will be announced in due course.
.sp 2
.ce
Books for Boys and Girls
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Baring Gould. THE ICELANDER’S SWORD. By S.
Baring Gould, Author of ‘Mehalah,’ etc. With Twenty-nine
Illustrations by J. Moyr Smith. Crown 8vo. 6s.
.ti -2
A stirring story of Iceland, written for boys by the author of ‘In the Roar of the Sea.’
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Cuthell. TWO LITTLE CHILDREN AND CHING. By
Edith E. Cuthell. Profusely Illustrated. Crown 8vo. Cloth,
gilt edges. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
Another story, with a dog hero, by the author of the very popular ‘Only a Guard-Room
Dog.’
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Blake. TODDLEBEN’S HERO. By M. M. Blake, Author of
‘The Siege of Norwich Castle.’ With 36 Illustrations. Crown
8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
A story of military life for children.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Cuthell. ONLY A GUARD-ROOM DOG. By Mrs. Cuthell.
With 16 Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Square Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘This is a charming story. Tangle was but a little mongrel Skye terrier, but he had a
big heart in his little body, and played a hero’s part more than once. The book
can be warmly recommended.’—Standard.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Collingwood. THE DOCTOR OF THE JULIET. By Harry
Collingwood, Author of ‘The Pirate Island,’ etc. Illustrated by
Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘“The Doctor of the Juliet,” well illustrated by Gordon Browne, is one of Harry
Collingwood’s best efforts.’—Morning Post.
.bn 200.png
.pn a26
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Clark Russell. MASTER ROCKAFELLAR’S VOYAGE. By
W. Clark Russell, Author of ‘The Wreck of the Grosvenor,’ etc.
Illustrated by Gordon Browne. Second Edition, Crown 8vo.
3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘Mr. Clark Russell’s story of “Master Rockafellar’s Voyage” will be among the
favourites of the Christmas books. There is a rattle and “go” all through it, and
its illustrations are charming in themselves, and very much above the average in
the way in which they are produced.’—Guardian.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
Manville Fenn. SYD BELTON: Or, The Boy who would not
go to Sea. By G. Manville Fenn, Author of ‘In the King’s
Name,’ etc. Illustrated by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.
.ti -2
‘Who among the young story-reading public will not rejoice at the sight of the old
combination, so often proved admirable—a story by Manville Fenn, illustrated
by Gordon Browne? The story, too, is one of the good old sort, full of life and
vigour, breeziness and fun.’—Journal of Education.
.sp 2
.ce
The Peacock Library
.sp 1
3/6
A Series of Books for Girls by well-known Authors,
handsomely bound in blue and silver, and well illustrated.
Crown 8vo.
.in 2
.ul style=none
.it 1. A PINCH OF EXPERIENCE. By L. B. Walford.
.it 2. THE RED GRANGE. By Mrs. Molesworth.
.it 3. THE SECRET OF MADAME DE MONLUC. By the Author of ‘Mdle Mori.’
.it 4. DUMPS. By Mrs. Parr, Author of ‘Adam and Eve.’
.it 5. OUT OF THE FASHION. By L. T. Meade.
.it 6. A GIRL OF THE PEOPLE. By L. T. Meade.
.it 7. HEPSY GIPSY. By L. T. Meade. 2s. 6d.
.it 8. THE HONOURABLE MISS. By L. T. Meade.
.it 9. MY LAND OF BEULAH. By Mrs. Leith Adams.
.ul-
.in
.sp 2
.ce
University Extension Series
A series of books on historical, literary, and scientific subjects, suitable
for extension students and home reading circles. Each volume is complete
.bn 201.png
.pn a27
in itself, and the subjects are treated by competent writers in a
broad and philosophic spirit.
.nf c
Edited by J. E. SYMES, M.A.,
Principal of University College, Nottingham.
Crown 8vo. Price (with some exceptions) 2s. 6d.
The following volumes are ready:—
.nf-
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE INDUSTRIAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By H. de
B. Gibbins, M.A., late Scholar of Wadham College, Oxon., Cobden
Prizeman. Third Edition. With Maps and Plans. 3s.
.ti -2
‘A compact and clear story of our industrial development. A study of this concise
but luminous book cannot fail to give the reader a clear insight into the principal
phenomena of our industrial history. The editor and publishers are to be congratulated
on this first volume of their venture, and we shall look with expectant
interest for the succeeding volumes of the series.’—University Extension Journal.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
A HISTORY OF ENGLISH POLITICAL ECONOMY. By
L. L. Price, M.A., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxon.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
PROBLEMS OF POVERTY: An Inquiry into the Industrial
Conditions of the Poor. By J. A. Hobson, M.A.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
VICTORIAN POETS. By A. Sharp.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. By J. E. Symes, M.A.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
PSYCHOLOGY. By F. S. Granger, M.A., Lecturer in Philosophy
at University College, Nottingham.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE EVOLUTION OF PLANT LIFE: Lower Forms. By
G. Massee, Kew Gardens. With Illustrations.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
AIR AND WATER. Professor V. B. Lewes, M.A. Illustrated.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE CHEMISTRY OF LIFE AND HEALTH. By C. W.
Kimmins, M.A. Camb. Illustrated.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE MECHANICS OF DAILY LIFE. By V. P. Sells, M.A.
Illustrated.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
ENGLISH SOCIAL REFORMERS. H. de B. Gibbins, M.A.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
ENGLISH TRADE AND FINANCE IN THE SEVENTEENTH
CENTURY. By W. A. S. Hewins, B.A.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE CHEMISTRY OF FIRE. The Elementary Principles of
Chemistry. By M. M. Pattison Muir, M.A. Illustrated.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
A TEXT-BOOK OF AGRICULTURAL BOTANY. By M. C.
Potter, M.A., F.L.S. Illustrated. 3s. 6d.
.bn 202.png
.pn a28
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
THE VAULT OF HEAVEN. A Popular Introduction to
Astronomy. By R. A. Gregory. With numerous Illustrations.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
METEOROLOGY. The Elements of Weather and Climate.
By H. N. Dickson, F.R.S.E., F.R. Met. Soc. Illustrated.
.sp 1
.in 4
.ti -4
A MANUAL OF ELECTRICAL SCIENCE. By George
J. Burch, M.A. With numerous Illustrations. 3s.
.sp 2
.nf c
Social Questions of To-day
Edited by H. de B. GIBBINS, M.A.
Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
.nf-
.in
2/6
A series of volumes upon those topics of social, economic,
and industrial interest that are at the present moment foremost
in the public mind. Each volume of the series is written by an
author who is an acknowledged authority upon the subject with which
he deals.
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The following Volumes of the Series are ready:—
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TRADE UNIONISM—NEW AND OLD. By G. Howell,
M.P., Author of ‘The Conflicts of Capital and Labour.’ Second
Edition.
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THE CO-OPERATIVE MOVEMENT TO-DAY. By G. J.
Holyoake, Author of ‘The History of Co-operation.’
.sp 1
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MUTUAL THRIFT. By Rev. J. Frome Wilkinson, M.A.,
Author of ‘The Friendly Society Movement.’
.sp 1
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PROBLEMS OF POVERTY: An Inquiry into the Industrial
Conditions of the Poor. By J. A. Hobson, M.A.
.sp 1
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THE COMMERCE OF NATIONS. By C. F. Bastable,
M.A., Professor of Economics at Trinity College, Dublin.
.sp 1
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THE ALIEN INVASION. By W. H. Wilkins, B.A., Secretary
to the Society for Preventing the Immigration of Destitute Aliens.
.sp 1
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THE RURAL EXODUS. By P. Anderson Graham.
.sp 1
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LAND NATIONALIZATION. By Harold Cox, B.A.
.sp 1
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A SHORTER WORKING DAY. By H. de B. Gibbins
and R. A. Hadfield, of the Hecla Works, Sheffield.
.sp 1
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BACK TO THE LAND: An Inquiry into the Cure for Rural
Depopulation. By H. E. Moore.
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.pn a29
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TRUSTS, POOLS AND CORNERS: As affecting Commerce
and Industry. By J. Stephen Jeans, M.R.I., F.S.S.
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THE FACTORY SYSTEM. By R. Cooke Taylor.
.sp 1
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THE STATE AND ITS CHILDREN. By Gertrude
Tuckwell.
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Classical Translations
Edited by H. F. FOX, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Brasenose
College, Oxford.
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Messrs. Methuen propose to issue a New Series of Translations from
the Greek and Latin Classics. They have enlisted the services of some
of the best Oxford and Cambridge Scholars, and it is their intention that
the Series shall be distinguished by literary excellence as well as by
scholarly accuracy.
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Crown 8vo. Finely printed and bound in blue buckram.
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CICERO—De Oratore I. Translated by E. N. P. Moor, M.A.,
Assistant Master at Clifton. 3s. 6d.
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ÆSCHYLUS—Agamemnon, Chöephoroe, Eumenides. Translated
by Lewis Campbell, LL.D., late Professor of Greek at St.
Andrews. 5s.
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LUCIAN—Six Dialogues (Nigrinus, Icaro-Menippus, The Cock,
The Ship, The Parasite, The Lover of Falsehood). Translated by
S. T. Irwin, M.A., Assistant Master at Clifton; late Scholar of
Exeter College, Oxford. 3s. 6d.
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SOPHOCLES—Electra and Ajax. Translated by E. D. A.
Morshead, M.A., late Scholar of New College, Oxford; Assistant
Master at Winchester. 2s. 6d.
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TACITUS—Agricola and Germania. Translated by R. B.
Townshend, late Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge. 2s. 6d.
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CICERO—Select Orations (Pro Milone, Pro Murena, Philippic II.,
In Catilinam). Translated by H. E. D. Blakiston, M.A., Fellow
and Tutor of Trinity College, Oxford. 5s.
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Methuen’s Commercial Series
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BRITISH COMMERCE AND COLONIES FROM ELIZABETH
TO VICTORIA. By H. de B. Gibbins, M.A., Author
of ‘The Industrial History of England,’ etc., etc. 2s.
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.pn a30
.sp 1
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A MANUAL OF FRENCH COMMERCIAL CORRESPONDENCE.
By S. E. Bally, Modern Language Master at
the Manchester Grammar School. 2s.
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COMMERCIAL GEOGRAPHY, with special reference to Trade
Routes, New Markets, and Manufacturing Districts. By L. D.
Lyde, M.A., of The Academy, Glasgow. 2s.
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COMMERCIAL EXAMINATION PAPERS. By H. de B.
Gibbins, M.A. 1s. 6d.
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THE ECONOMICS OF COMMERCE. By H. de B. Gibbins,
M.A. 1s. 6d.
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A PRIMER OF BUSINESS. By S. Jackson, M.A. 1s. 6d.
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COMMERCIAL ARITHMETIC. By F. G. Taylor,
M.A. 1s. 6d.
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Works by A. M. M. Stedman, M.A.
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INITIA LATINA: Easy Lessons on Elementary Accidence.
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FIRST LATIN LESSONS. Fourth Edition Crown 8vo. 2s.
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FIRST LATIN READER. With Notes adapted to the Shorter
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EASY SELECTIONS FROM CAESAR. Part 1. The Helvetian
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EASY SELECTIONS FROM LIVY. Part 1. The Kings of
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EASY LATIN PASSAGES FOR UNSEEN TRANSLATION.
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EXEMPLA LATINA: First Exercises in Latin Accidence.
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EASY LATIN EXERCISES ON THE SYNTAX OF THE
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of Dr. Kennedy.
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THE LATIN COMPOUND SENTENCE RULES AND
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NOTANDA QUAEDAM: Miscellaneous Latin Exercises on
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LATIN VOCABULARIES FOR REPETITION: Arranged
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A VOCABULARY OF LATIN IDIOMS AND PHRASES.
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LATIN EXAMINATION PAPERS IN MISCELLANEOUS
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STEPS TO GREEK. 18mo. 1s. 6d.
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EASY GREEK PASSAGES FOR UNSEEN TRANSLATION.
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EASY GREEK EXERCISES ON ELEMENTARY SYNTAX.
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[In preparation.
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GREEK VOCABULARIES FOR REPETITION: Arranged
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GREEK TESTAMENT SELECTIONS. For the use of
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GREEK EXAMINATION PAPERS IN MISCELLANEOUS
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STEPS TO FRENCH. 18mo. 8d.
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FIRST FRENCH LESSONS. Crown 8vo. 1s.
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EASY FRENCH EXERCISES ON ELEMENTARY SYNTAX.
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FRENCH VOCABULARIES FOR REPETITION: Arranged
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FRENCH EXAMINATION PAPERS IN MISCELLANEOUS
GRAMMAR AND IDIOMS. Seventh Edition. Crown
8vo. 2s. 6d. Key (issued as above). 6s.
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GENERAL KNOWLEDGE EXAMINATION PAPERS.
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.pn a32
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School Examination Series
Edited by A. M. M. STEDMAN, M.A. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
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FRENCH EXAMINATION PAPERS IN MISCELLANEOUS
GRAMMAR AND IDIOMS. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A.
Sixth Edition.
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APERS IN MISCELLANEOUS
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APERS IN MISCELLANEOUS
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PAPERS IN MISCELLANEOUS
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HY EXAMINATION PAPERS.
By C. H. Spence, M.A., Clifton College.
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PAPERS. By R. E. Steel, M.A.,
F.C.S., Chief Natural Science Master Bradford Grammar School.
In three vols. Part I., Chemistry; Part II., Physics.
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XAMINATION PAPERS.
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above). 7s.
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Primary Classics
With Introductions, Notes, and Vocabularies. 18mo. 1s. and 1s. 6d.
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A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. 1s. 6d.
.sp 1
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EASY SELECTIONS FROM CAESAR—THE HELVETIAN
WAR. Edited by A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. 1s.
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EASY SELECTIONS FROM LIVY—THE KINGS OF
ROME. Edited by A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. 1s. 6d.
.sp 1
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EASY SELECTIONS FROM HERODOTUS—THE PERSIAN
WARS. Edited by A. G. Liddell, M.A. 1s. 6d.
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Transcriber’s Note
Only one error was deemed most likely to be the printer’s and it
has been corrected, as noted here. The minor errors in the section
of advertisments have been corrected with no further notice.
The reference is to the page and line in the original.
.ta l:8 l:46 l:12 w=90%
| if he had not perished[?] | Added.
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