Itmrnm aooM 
 
 COL. GEORGE WASHINGTON FLOWERS 
 MEMORIAL COLLECTION 
 
 DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 DURHAM. N. C. 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 W. W. FLOWERS 
 
Cr.SO^'^ 
 
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 4 
 
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 <^- 
 
 BY WILKIE COLLIIS^S, 
 
 AUTIIOK OJ 
 
 THE AVOMAN IN WHITE," "QUEEN OF HEARTS," " ANTONINA," ETC. 
 
 EI CUM ON D: 
 WEST AND JOHNSTON. 
 1863. 
 
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 r 
 
 Etans & COCSWSLL. PEiKixr.s, 
 
 KO. 3 BEOAO 8TEEET, CUAELESTON, 3. C 
 

 #-2' 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 THE FIRST SCENE. -COMBE-RxVVEN, SOMERSETSHIRE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The liandg on llie ball do<k pointed to lialf- 
 past six in the morning. The house was a 
 country residence in West Somersetshire, 
 called Combe-Rnvcn. The day was the 4th 
 oi" March, and the year was eighteen hundred 
 and forty-six. 
 
 No sounds but the steady ticking of the 
 clock, and the lumpi.-^h snoring of a large dog 
 •tretched on a mat outside the dining-room 
 door, disturbed the mysterious morning still- 
 ness of hall and staircase. AVho were the 
 sleepers hidden in the upper regions ? Let 
 the house reveal its own secrets, and one by 
 one, as they descend the stairs from their 
 beds, let the sleepers disclose themselves. 
 
 As the clock pointed to a quarter to seven 
 the dog woke and shook himself. After wait- 
 ing in vain for the footman, who was accus- 
 tomed to let him out, the animal wandered 
 re.stle.'-sly from one closed door to another on 
 the gronnd-lloor ; and, returning to his mat in 
 great perpluxitj-, appealed to the .sleeping 
 family with a long and melancholy howl. 
 
 Before the last notes of the dog's remon- 
 strance had died away, the oaken stairs in the 
 higher regions of the house creaked under 
 slowly descending footsteps. In a minute 
 more the first of the female servants made 
 her appearanc-e, Avith a dingy woolen shawl 
 over her shoulders — for the March morning 
 was bleak, and rheumatism and the cook 
 were old actjuaintauces. 
 
 Receiving the dog's first cordial advances 
 wilh the worst possible grace, the cook slowly 
 opened the hall door and let the animal out. 
 it was a Avild morning. Over a spacious lawn 
 and behind a l)lack plantation of lirs the rising 
 8un rent its way upward through piles of rag- 
 ged gray cloud ; heavy drops of rain fell few 
 and far lii'tween ; the Man-h wind shuddered 
 round the corners of the house, and the wet 
 trees swayed wearily. 
 
 Seven o'clock struck, and the signs of do- 
 mestic life began to show themselves in more 
 rapid succession. 
 
 The house maid came down — tall and slim, 
 with the state of the spring temperature writ- 
 
 ten redly on her nose. The lady's maid fol- 
 lowed — young, smart, jilump, and sleepy. 
 The kitchen maid came next — afllicted with 
 the faceache, and making no secret of her 
 sufierings. Last of all the footman appeared, 
 yawning disconsolately, the living picture of 
 a man who felt that he had been defrauded 
 of his fair night's rest. 
 
 The conversation of the servants when they 
 assembled before the slowly lighting kitchen 
 fire referred to a recent family event, and 
 turned at starting on this (juestion : Had 
 Thomas, the foolman, seen anything of the 
 concert at Clifton, at which his master and the 
 two young ladies had been prcsi nt on the pre- 
 vious night? Yes, Thomas had heard the 
 concert ; he had been paid for to go in at the 
 back : it was a loud concert; it was a hot con- 
 cert ; it was described at the top of the bills 
 as Grand; whether it was worth travelling six- 
 teen miles to hear by railway, with the addi- 
 tional hardship of going back nineteen miles 
 l)y road at half-past one in the morning, was 
 a (juestion which he would leave his master 
 and the young ladies to decide; his own opin- 
 ion, in the riiean time, being unliesitatingly 
 No. Further inquiries on the part of all the 
 female servants in succession elicited no addi- 
 tional information of any sort. Thomas could 
 hum none of the songs, and could describe 
 none of the ladies' dresses. His audience ac- 
 cordingly gave him up in despair, and the 
 kitchen "small talk flowed baik into its ordi- 
 nary channels until the dcM-k struck eight, 
 and startled the assembled servants into sep- 
 arating for their morning's work. 
 
 A (jnarter-past eight, and nothing happened. 
 Half-past, and more signs of life appearctl i'rom 
 the bedroom regions. The next member of 
 the family who came down stairs was 'Mr. 
 Andrew Vanstonc-, the master of the house. 
 
 Tall, stout, and upright — with bright blue 
 eyes, and healthy, fiorid complexion — his 
 brown plush shooting jacket carelessly but- 
 toned awry; his vixenish little Scotch terrier 
 barking unrebuked at his heels; one hand 
 thrust nito his waistcoat pocket, and the other 
 smacking the balusters cheerfully as he came 
 down stairs humming a tune — Mr. Vanstone 
 
 O 
 
 32195 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 showed his character on the surface of him 
 freely to all men. An easA-, heartj-, hand- 
 some, good humored gentleman, who walked 
 on the sunny side of the v/ay of life, and who 
 asked nothing better than to meet all his fel- 
 low passengers in this world on the sunny side 
 too. Estimating him by years he had turned 
 fifty. Judging him by lightness of heart, 
 strength of constitution, and capacity for en- 
 joyment, he was no older than most men who 
 have only turned thirty. 
 
 "Thomas!" cried Mr. Vanstone, taking up 
 his old felt hat and his thick walking stick 
 from tlie hall table. " Breakfast this morning 
 at ten. The young ladies are not likely to be 
 down earlier after the concert last night. By- 
 the-by, how did you like the concert yourself, 
 ell V You thought it was Grand ? Quite 
 right; so it was. Nothing but Crash-Ban^, 
 varied now and then by Bang-Crash ; all tne 
 women dressed within an inch of their lives ; 
 smothering heat, blazing gas, and no room for 
 anybody — yes, yes, Thomas, Grand 's the word 
 for it, and Comfortable, isn 't." Witli that 
 expression of opiuion Mr. Vanstone wliistled 
 to his vixenish terrier, flourished his stick at 
 the hall door in cheerftd defiance of the rain, 
 and set off through wind and weather for his 
 morning walk. 
 
 Tiic hands, stealing their steady way round 
 the dial of the clo.-k, pointed to ten minutes to 
 nine. Another member of the family appeai'ed, 
 on the stairs — Miss Garth, the governess. 
 
 No observant eye could have observed Miss 
 Garth without seeing at once. that she was a 
 north-countrywoman. Her hard featured face, 
 her masculine readiness and decision of move- 
 ment, her obstinate honesty of look and man- 
 ner, all proclaimed her border birth and border 
 training. Though little more than forty j-ears 
 of age her hair v/as quite gray, and slic wore 
 over it the plain cap of an old woman. Neither 
 hair nor head-dress was out of harmony with 
 her face — it looked older than her years. The 
 hard handwriting of trouble had scored it 
 heavilv at some past time. The self-possession 
 of her progress down the stairs, and the air of 
 habitual authority with which she looked about 
 her spoke well for her position in Mr. Van- 
 stone's family. This was evidently not one of 
 the forlorn, persecuted, pitiably dependent 
 order of governesses. Here was a woman who 
 lived on ascertained and honorable terms with 
 her employers — a woman who looked capable 
 of sending any parents in England to the 
 right about if they failed to rate her at her 
 proper value. 
 
 " Breakfast at ten ?" repeated Miss Garth 
 when the footman had answered the bell and 
 had mentioned his master's orders. " Ha ! I 
 thought what would come of that concert last 
 night. When people who live in the country 
 patronize pubhc amusements, public amuse- 
 ments return the compliment by upsetting the 
 family afterward for days together. You 're 
 
 upset, Thomas; I can* see; your eyes are as 
 red as a ferret's, and your cravat looks as if 
 you had slept in it. Bring the kettle at a 
 quarter to ten, and if you don't get better in 
 the course of the day come to me and I '11 give 
 you a dose of physic. That 's a well meaning 
 lad if you only let him alone," continued Miss 
 Garth, in soliloquy, when Thomas had retired, 
 " but he 's not strong enough for concerts 
 twenty miles off. They wanted me to go with 
 them last night. Yes : catch me !" 
 
 Nine o'clock struck, and the minute-hand 
 stole on to twenty minutes past the hour before 
 any more footsteps were heard on the stairs. 
 At the end of that time two ladies appeared, 
 descending to the breakfast-room together — 
 Mrs. Vanstone and her eldest daughter. 
 
 If the personal attractions of Mrs. Vanstone 
 at an earlier period of life had depended solely 
 on her native English charms of complexion 
 and freshness, she must have long since lost 
 the last relics of her fairer self. But her 
 beauty as a young woman had passed beyond 
 the average national limits, and she still pre- 
 served the advantage of her more exceptional 
 personal gifts. Although she was now in her 
 forty-fourth year, although she had been tried 
 in by-gone times by the premature loss of niore 
 than one of her children, and by long attacks 
 of illness which had followed those bereave- 
 ments of former years, she still ])reserved the 
 fair proportion and subtle delicacy of feature 
 once associated with the all-adorning brightness 
 and freshness of beauty, which had left her 
 never to return. Her eldest child, now de- 
 scending the stairs by her side, was the mirror 
 in which she could look back and see again 
 the reflection of her own youth. There, folded 
 thick on the daughter's head, lay the massive 
 dark hair which on the mother's was fast turn- 
 ing gray. There, in the daughter's cheek, 
 glowed the lovely dusky red which had fade<i 
 from the mother's to bloom again no more. 
 Miss Vanstone had already reached the first 
 maturity of womanhood. She had completed 
 her six-and-twentieth year. Inheriting the 
 dark, majestic character of her mother's 
 bfeautj', she had yet hardly inherited all its 
 charms. Though the shape of her face was 
 the same, the features were scarcely so deli- 
 cate, their proportion was scai'cely so true. 
 She was not so tall. She had the dark brown 
 eyes of her mother — •full and soft, with the 
 steady lustre in tliem which Mrs. Vanstone's 
 eyes had lost — and yet there was less interest, 
 less refinement and depth of feeling in her ex- 
 pression : it was gentle and feminine, but 
 clouded by a certain quiet reserve from which 
 her mother's face was free. If we dare to 
 look closely enough may we not observe that 
 the moral force of character and the higher 
 intellectual capacities in parents seem often to 
 wear out mysteriously in the course of trans- 
 mission to children ? In these days of insidi- 
 ous nervous exhaustion and subtly-spreading 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 nervous malarly, is it not possible that tlie same 
 rule may apply, less rarely than Ave are willing 
 to admit, to the bodily git'ts as well V 
 
 The mother and daughter slowly descended 
 the stairs together — the first dressed in dark 
 brown, with an Indian shawl thrown over her 
 shoulders ; the second more simply attired in 
 black, with a plain collar and ciiit's, and a dark 
 orano'e-colored ribbon over the bosom of her 
 dress. As they crossed the hall and entered 
 the breakfast-room ]\Iiss Yanstone was full of 
 the all-absorbing subject of the last night's 
 concert. 
 
 " I am so son-y, mamma, you were not with 
 us," she said. " You have been so strong and 
 so well ever since last summer — you have felt 
 so many years younger, as you said yourself — 
 that I am sure the exertion would not have 
 been too nnich for you." 
 
 " Perhaps not, my love ; but it was as well 
 to keep on the safe side." 
 
 " Quite as well," remarked ]Miss (larth, ap- 
 jiearing at the breakfast-room door. " Look 
 at Norali (good morning, my dear) — look, I 
 say, at Noraii. A i)erfect wreck ; a living 
 j)roof of your Avisdom and mine in staying at 
 liome. The vile gas, the foul air, the late 
 hours — Avhat can you expect ? She 's not made 
 of iron, and she suffers accordingly. No, my 
 dear, you needn't deny it. I see you've got 
 a headache." 
 
 Norah's dark, handsome face brightened 
 into a smile, then lightly clouded again with 
 its accustomed ([uiet reserve. 
 
 " A very little headache ; not half enough to 
 make me regret the concert," she said, and 
 Avalked away by herself to the window. 
 
 On the far side of a ganlen and paddock 
 the view overlooked a stream, some farm build- 
 ings whicli lay beyond, and the opening of a 
 Avooded rocky pass (^called, in Somersetshire, a 
 Combe), Avhich here clell its Avay through the 
 hills that closed the prospect. A Avi?)diiig strip 
 of road was visible, at rto great distance, amidst 
 the undulations of the open ground ; and along 
 this strip the stahvart figure of ^Ir. Yanstone 
 was noAv easily recognizable, returning to the 
 house from his morning Avalk. H(^ flourished 
 liis stick gayly as he observed hiselilost daugh- 
 ter at the Avin<low. She nodded and Avaved 
 her hand in return, very gracefully and pret- 
 tily, but with something of old-fashioned for- 
 mality in her manner, Avliich looked strangely 
 in .so young a Avoman, and Avhich seemed out 
 of harmony Avith a salutation addressed to her 
 father. 
 
 The hall clock struck the ailjourned break- 
 fast-hour. WIk'u the minute hand had record- 
 ed the la{)se of live minutes more, a door l)anged 
 in the bedroom regions — a clear young voice 
 was heard singing blithely ; light, rapid footsteps 
 patti'red on the ui)j)er stairs, descended with a 
 jump to the landing, and pattered again, faster 
 than ever, doAvn the lower flight. In another 
 moment the youngest of Mr. Vanstone's two 
 daughters (and tAvo only surviving children) 
 
 dashed into view on the dingy old oaken stairs 
 with the suddenness of a flash of light, and 
 clearing the last three steps into the hall at a 
 jump, presented herself breathless in the break- 
 fast-room, to make the family circle complete. 
 By one of those strange caprices of nature, 
 which science leaves still unexplained, the 
 youngest of Mr. Vanstone's children presented 
 no recognizable resemblance to either of her 
 parents. How had she come by her hair ? how 
 had she come by her eyes ? l'2v(>n her father 
 and mother had asked therasclves those ques- 
 tions as she grcAv up to girlhood, and had been 
 sorely perplexed to ansAver them. Her hair 
 was of that purely light-brown hue — unmixed 
 Avith flaxen, or yelloAV, or red — Avhich is oftener 
 seen on the plumage of a bird than on the head 
 of a human being. It Avas soft and plentiful, 
 and Avaved doAvuAvard from her low forehead 
 in regular folds; but to some tastes it was dull 
 and dead, in its ab.=olute Avant of glossiness, in 
 its monotonous purity of plain light color. Her 
 eyebrows and eyelashes Avere just a shade 
 darker than her hair, and seemed made ex- 
 pressly for those violet-blue eyes, Avhich assert 
 their most irresistible charm Avhen associated 
 Avith a fair complexion. But it Avas here ex- 
 actly that the promise of her face failed of 
 performance in the most startling maTiner. The 
 eyes, Avhich should have been dark, Avere in- 
 comprehensibly and discordantly light; they 
 Avere of that nearly colorless gray Avhich, 
 though little attractive in itself, possesses the 
 rare compensating merit of interpreting the 
 finest gradations of thought, the gentlest 
 changes of feeling, the deepest trouble of pas- 
 sion, "with a subtle transparency of expression 
 Avhich no darker eyes can rival. Thus tpiaintly 
 self-contradictory in the upper part of her 
 face, she Avas hardly less at variance Avith es- 
 tablished ideas of harmony in the loAver. Her 
 lips had the true feminine delicacy of form, 
 her cheeks the lovely roundness and smooth- 
 ness of youth ; but the mouth Avas too large 
 and firm', the chin too square and massive for 
 her sex and age. Her complexion partook of 
 the pure monotony of tint Avhich characterized 
 her hair — it was of the same soft, warm, creamy 
 fairness all over, Avithout a tinge of color in the 
 cheeks, except on occasions of unusual bodily 
 exertion or sudden mental disturbance. The 
 Avhole countenance — so remarkable in its 
 strongly opposed characteristics — Avas rendered 
 additionally striking by its extraordinary mo- 
 bility. Tlie large, electric, light gray _ eyes 
 Avere hardly ever in repose; all varieties of 
 expression fblloAved each other over the plas- 
 tic, ever-changing face, Avith a giddy rapidity 
 Avhich left sober analysis far behind in the race. 
 The girl's exuberant vitality asserted itself all 
 over her, from head to foot. Her figure — 
 taller than her sister's, taller than the average 
 of Avoman's height ; instinct Avith such a se- 
 ductive, serpentine suppleness, so hglitly and 
 playfully graceful that its movements suggest- 
 ed, not unnaturally, the movements of a young 
 
 t^^ O <C Xu O 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 cat — lier figure was so perfectly developed 
 already that no one Tvho saw her could have 
 supposed that she was only eighteen. She 
 bloomed in the full physical maturity of twenty 
 years or more — bloomed naturally and irre- 
 sistibly, in right of lier matchless health and 
 strength. Here, in truth, lay the mainspring 
 • of this strangely constituted organization. Her 
 headlong course down the house stairs ; the 
 ■brisk activity of all her movements ; the in- 
 cessant sparkle of expression in her face ; the 
 enticing gayety which took the hearts of the 
 . qiiietest people by storm — even the reckless 
 ■ delight in bright colors, which showed itself in 
 her brilliantly striped morning dress, in her 
 fluttering ribbons, in the large scarlet rosettes 
 ■ou her smart little shoes — all sprang alike from 
 the same source ; from the overflowing physical 
 health which strengthened evci'y muscle, braced 
 every nerve, and set the v/arm young blood 
 tingling through her veins like the blood of a 
 growing child. 
 
 On her entry into the breakfast-room she 
 was saluted with the eustomaiy remonstrance 
 which her flightly disregard of all punctuality 
 habitually provoked from the long suffering 
 household authorities. In ^liss Garth's favoi-- 
 ite phra&;e,"" Magdalen was born with all the 
 senses — except a sense of order.*' 
 
 Magdalen ! It was a strange name to have 
 given her ? Strange indeed ; and yet chosen 
 under no extraordinary circumstances. The 
 name had been borne by one of Mr. Van- 
 stone's sisters, who had died in eai-ly youth ; 
 and in affectionate rtnuembrance of her he had 
 called his second daughter by it — just as he 
 had called his eldest daughter Norah for his 
 wife's sake. Magdalen ! Surely the grand 
 old Bible name — suggestive of a sad and 
 sombre dignity ; recalling, in its first associa- 
 tion, mournful ideas of penitence and seclu- 
 sion — had been here, as events had turned out, 
 inappropriately bestowed! Surely this self- 
 contradictory girl had perversely accomplished 
 one contradiciion more by developing into a 
 character which was out of all harmony with 
 her own Christian name ! 
 
 " Late again !" said Mrs. Vanstone, as Mag- 
 dalen breathlessly kissed her. 
 
 " Late again !" chimed in Miss Garth, when 
 Magdalen came her way next. " Well ?" she 
 went on, taking the girl's chin familiarly in 
 ,her hand, with a half-satirical, half-fond atten- 
 •tion which betrayed that the youngest daugh- 
 ter, with all her fjxults, was the governess's 
 ■favorite— "Well? and what has the concert 
 done for yon! What form of suffering has 
 dissipation inflicted on your system this morn- 
 ing 'r 
 
 " Suffering !" repeated Magdalen, recover- 
 ing her breath, and the use of'her tongue with 
 it. "I don't know the meaning of the word : 
 if there 's anything the matter'with me, I 'm 
 too well. Suffering ! I 'm ready for another 
 concert to-night, and a ball to-morrow, and a 
 
 play the day after. Oh," cried Magdalen, 
 dropping into a chair, and crossing her hands 
 rapturously on the table. " how I do like pleas- 
 ure !" 
 
 " Come ! that 's explicit, at any rate," said 
 Miss Garth. " I think Pope must have had you 
 in his mind when he wrote his famous lines : 
 
 " ' Men some to buRinoas, some to pleasure take, 
 But every woman is at heart a iiikc' " 
 
 " The deuce she is !" cried Mr. Vanstone, 
 entering the room while Miss Garth was 
 making her quotation, with the dogs at his 
 heels. "Well ; live and learn. If you 're all 
 rakes. Miss Garth, the sexes are turned topsy- 
 turvy with a vengeance, and the men will have 
 nothing left for it but to stop at home and darn 
 the stockings. Let 's have some breakfast." 
 
 " How-d'-ye-do, papa?" said Magdalen, 
 taking IMr. Vanstone as boisterously round the 
 neck as if he belonged to some larger order 
 of Newfoundland dog, and was made to be 
 romped with at his daughter's convenience. 
 
 "I'm the rake Miss Garth means; and I 
 want to go to another concert — or a play, if 
 you like — or a ball, if you prefer it — or any- 
 thing else in the way of amusement that puts 
 me into a new dress, and plunges me into a 
 crowd of people, and illuminates me with 
 plenty of light, and sets me in a tingle of ex- 
 citement all over, from head to foot. Any- 
 thing will do, as long as it doesn't send us to 
 bed at eleven o'clock." 
 
 ]\Ir. Vanstone sat down composedly under 
 his daughter's flow of language, like a man 
 who was well used to verbal inundation from 
 that quarter. " If I am to be allowed my 
 choice of amusements next time," said the 
 worthy gentleman, " I think a play will suit 
 me better than a concert. The girls enjoyed 
 themselves amazingly, my dear," he continued, 
 addressing his wife. " More than I did, I nmst 
 say. It was altogether above my mark. They 
 played one piece of music which lasted forty 
 minutes. It stopped three times by the way; 
 and we all thought it was done each time, and 
 clapped our hands, rejoiced to be rid of it. 
 But on it went again, to our great surprise and 
 mortification, till we gave it up in despair, and 
 all wished ourselves at Jericho. Norah, my 
 dear, when we had Crash-Bang for forty min- 
 utes, with three stoppages by the way, what 
 did they call it ?" 
 
 " A Symphony, papa," replied Norah. 
 
 " Yes, you darling old Goth, a Symphony 
 by the great Beethoven !" added Magdalen. 
 " How can you say you were not amused ? 
 Have you forgotten the yellow-looking foreign 
 woman, with the unpronounceable name ? 
 Don't you remember the faces she made when 
 she sang ? and the way she curtesied and cur- 
 tesied, till she cheated the foolish people into 
 crying encore? Look here mamma — look 
 here, Miss Garth!" 
 
 She snatched up an empty plate from the 
 table to represent a sheet of music, held it 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 before lier in the established concert - room 
 position, and produced an imitation of the un- 
 fortunate singer's grimaces and curtesyipgs so 
 accurately aiid (piaintly true to the original, 
 that her fatlicr roared with laughter; and even 
 the footman (who came in at that moment with 
 the post-bag) rushed out of the room again, 
 and committed the indecorum of echoing his 
 master audibly on the other side of the door. 
 
 " Letters, papa. I want the key," said Mag- 
 dalen, passing fi'om the imitation at the break- 
 fast-table to the ]iost-bag on the sideboard with 
 the easy abruptness which ch.iracterized all 
 her actions. 
 
 ]Mr. Vanstone senrched his pockets and 
 ghook his head. Tliough his youngest daugh- 
 ter might resemble him in nothing else, it was 
 easy to see where Magdalen's unmethodical 
 liabits came from. 
 
 " I dare say I have left It in the library, 
 along with my other keys," said Mr. Vanstone. 
 "Go and look for it, my dear." 
 
 " You really should check IVIagdalen," plead- 
 ed Mrs. Vanstone, addressing her husband, 
 when her daughter had left the room. " Those 
 habits of minucry are growing on her, and she 
 sneaks lo you with a levity which it is posi- 
 tively shocking to hear." 
 
 " Exactly what I have said myself, till I am 
 tired of repeating it," remarked Miss Garth. 
 " She treats ISIr. N'anstone as if he was a kind 
 of younger brother of hers." 
 
 " You are kind to us in everything else, 
 papa, and }ou make kind allowance for Mag- 
 dalen's high spirits, don't you V" said the quiet 
 Norah, taking her father's part and her sister's 
 with so little show of resolution on the surface, 
 that few observers would have been sharp 
 enough to detect the genuine substance be- 
 neath it. 
 
 " Thank you, my dcc^r," said good-natured 
 Mr. Vanstone. " Thank you for a very pretty 
 speech. As lor Magdalen," he continued, ad- 
 dressing his wife and INIiss Garth, " she 's an 
 unbroken filly. Let her caper and kick in the 
 paddock to her heart's content. Time enough 
 to break her to harness when she gets a little 
 older." 
 
 The door opened, and Magdalen returned 
 with the key. Slie unlocked the post-ba<r at 
 the sideltoard and poured out the letters in a 
 heap. Sorting them gayly in less than a niin- 
 ute she ai)proached the breakfast-table with 
 both hands full, aiul delivered the letters all 
 round with the business-like rapidity of a 
 London postman. 
 
 " Two for Norah," she announced, beginning 
 with her sister. " Three for Miss Garth. None 
 for mamma. One for me. And the other six 
 all for papa. You lazy old darling, you hate 
 answering letters, don't you ?" pursued Mag- 
 dalen, dropping the ])Ostman's character and 
 assuming tiie daughter's. '• Mow you will grum- 
 ble and fidget in the study ! and how you will 
 wish there were no such things as letttrs in 
 
 the world! and how red your nice old bald 
 head will get at the top 'with the worry of 
 writing the answers! and how many of the 
 answers you will leave until to-morrow, after 
 all ! The Bristol Theatre 's opeji, papa" she 
 whispered, sl\ly and suddenly in her father's 
 ear ; " I saw it in the newspaper when I went 
 to the library to get the key. Let's go to- 
 morrow night!" 
 
 While his daughter was chattering Mr. Van- 
 stone was mechanically sorting his letters. He 
 turned over the first four in succession, and 
 looked carelessly over the addresses. When 
 he came to the fifth, his attention, which had 
 hitherto wandered toward Magdalen, suddenly 
 became fixed on the post-mark of the letter. 
 
 Stooping over him, with her head on his 
 
 shoulder, Magdalen could see the post-mark as 
 
 plainly as her father saw it — New Orleans. 
 
 " An American letter, papa !" she said. 
 
 " Who do you know at New Orleans?" 
 
 Mrs. Vanstone started, and looked eagerly 
 at her husband the moment ^lagdalen spoke 
 those words. 
 
 Mr. Vanstone said nothing. He quietly re- 
 moved his daughter's arm from his neck, as if 
 he wished to be free from all interruption. 
 She returned accordingly to her place at the 
 breakfast-table. Her fatlier, with the letter 
 in his hand, waited a little before he opened 
 it; her mother looking at him the while with, 
 an eager, expectant attention, which attracted 
 Miss Garth's notice and Norah's as well a». 
 Magdalen's. 
 
 Al\er a minute or more of hesitation Mr. 
 Vanstone opened the letter. 
 
 His face changed color the inst^'^nt he read 
 the first lines ; his checks fivding to a dull, yel- 
 low-brown hue, which would have been ashy 
 paleness in a less florid man ; and his expres- 
 sion becoming saddened and overclouded in a 
 moment. Norah and Magdalen, watching 
 anxiously, saw nothing but the change that 
 passed over their father. Miss Garth alone 
 observed the effect whii-h that change pro- 
 duced on the attentive mistress of the house. 
 It was not the effect which she, or any one, 
 could liave anticipated. Mrs. Vanstone looked 
 excited rather than alarmed. A faint fiush 
 rose on her cheeks — her eyes brijihtened — she 
 stirred the tea round and roinid in her cup in 
 a restless, impatient manner which was not 
 natural to her. 
 
 Magdalen, in her capacity of spoiled child, 
 was, a^s usual, the first to break the silence. 
 " What it the matter, pajja?" she asked. 
 " Nothing," said Mr. Vanstone, sharply, 
 without looking up at her. 
 
 " r m sure there must be something," per- 
 sisted Magdalen. " I' m sure there is oad 
 news, papa, in that American letter." 
 
 " There is nothing in the letter that con- 
 cerns ifou," said Mr. Vanstone. 
 
 It was the first direct rebuff that Magdalen 
 had ever received from her father. She 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 looked at bim •with an incredulous surprise, 
 •which -would have been irresistibly absurd 
 under less serious circumstances. 
 
 Nothing more was said. For the first time, 
 perhaps, in their lives the family sat round the 
 breaki'ast-table in painful silence. Mr. Van- 
 stone's hearty morning appetite, like his hearty 
 morning spirits, ■vvas gone. He absently broke 
 off some morsels cf dry toast from the rack 
 near him, absently finished his first cup of tea, 
 then asked tor a second, which be left before 
 him untouched. 
 
 " Norah," be said, after an interval, " you 
 need n't wait for me. Magdalen, my dear, 
 you can go when you like." 
 
 His daughters rose immediately, and Miss 
 Garlh considerately followed their example. 
 When an easy-tempered man does assert him- 
 self in his fixmily, the rarity of the demonstra- 
 tion invariably has its effect ; and the will of 
 that easy-tempered man is Law. 
 
 " What can have happened ?" whispered 
 Norah, as they closed the breakfast-room door 
 and crossed the ball. 
 
 " What does papa mean by being cross with 
 Me '?" exclaimed Magdaleu, chafing under a 
 sense of her own injuries. 
 
 " May I ask what right you had to pry Into 
 your father's private affairs?" retorted Miss 
 Garth. 
 
 " KIght ?" repeated Magdalen. " I have no 
 secrets from papa — what business has papa to 
 have secrets from me ! I consider myself in- 
 sulted." 
 
 •' If you considered yourself properly re- 
 proved for not minding your own business," 
 said the plain-spoken Miss Garth, " you would 
 be a tritle nearer the truth. Ah ! you 're like 
 all the rest of the girls in the present day. 
 Not one in a hundred of you knows which 
 end of her 's uppermost." 
 
 T])e three ladies entered the morning-room; 
 and Magdalen acknowledged Miss Garth's 
 reproof by banging the door. 
 
 Half an hour passed, and neither Mr. Van- 
 stone nor his Avite left the breakfast-room. 
 Tiie servant, ignorant of what had happened, 
 wont in to clear the table — found bis master 
 and mistress seated close together in deep con- 
 sultation — and immediately went out again. 
 Another quarter of an hour elapsed befoi-e 
 the breakfast-room door was opened, and the 
 private conference of the husband and wife 
 came to an end. 
 
 " I hear mamma in the ball," said Norah. 
 " Perhaps she Is coming to tell us something." 
 Mrs. Vanstone entered the morning-room 
 as her daughter spoke. The color was deeper 
 on her cheeks, and the brightness of half-dried 
 tears glistened in her eyes; her step was more 
 hasty, all her movements were quicker than 
 usual. 
 
 " I bring news, my dears, which will sur- 
 prise you," she said, addressing her daughters. 
 " Your father and I are going to London to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Magdalen caught her mother by the arm in 
 speechless astonishment ; Miss Gartli di'opped 
 her work on her lap; even tlie sedate Norah 
 started to lier feet, and amazedly repeated the ' 
 words, " Going to London !" 
 
 " Without us !" added Magdalen. 
 
 " Your father and ] are going alone," said 
 Mrs. Vanstone. " Perhaps for as long as 
 three weeks — but not longer. We are going," 
 — she hesitated — " we are going on important 
 family business. Don't bold me, Magdalen. 
 This Is a sudden necessity — I have a great 
 deal to do to-day — many things to sot in order 
 before to-morrow. There, there, my love, let 
 me go." 
 
 She drew her arm away, hastily kissed her 
 youngest daughter on the forehead, and at 
 once left the room again. Even Magdalen 
 saw that her mother was not to be coaxed 
 Into bearing or answei'Ing any more questions. 
 
 The morning wore on, and nothing was 
 seen of Mr. Vanstone. With the reckless 
 curiosity of hej" age and character, MagdaFeu, 
 in defiance of Miss Garth's prohibition and 
 her sister's remonstrances, doto'rmined to go 
 to the study, and look for her father there. 
 When she tried tlie door it was locked on the 
 inside. Slie said, "It 's only me, papa;" and 
 waited for the answ(!r. " I 'm busy now, my ^ 
 dear," was the answer. " Don't disturb me." 
 
 Mrs. Vanstone was, in another way, equally 
 inaccessible. She remained in her own room, 
 with 'the female servants about her, immersed 
 In endless preparations for the aj)j)roaching 
 departure. The servants, little used in that 
 family to sudden resolutions and unexpected 
 orders, were awkward and coni'used in obey- 
 ing directions. They ran from room to room 
 unnecessarily, and lost time and patience in 
 jostling each other on the stairs. If a stranger 
 had entered tiie house that day, he might 
 have imagined that an unexpected disaster 
 had happened in it, Instead of an unexpected 
 necessity for a journey to London. Nothing 
 proceeded In its ordinary routine. Magdalen, 
 who was accustomed to pass tlie morning at 
 the piano, wandered restlessly about the stair- 
 cases and passages, and In and out of doors 
 when there woti"e glimpses of fine weather. 
 Norah, whose fondness lor re;vdlng had passed 
 into a family proverb, took up book after book 
 from table and shelf, and laid them down 
 again, in despair of fixing her attention. 
 Even Miss Garth felt the all-pervading Influ- 
 ence of the household disorganization, and sat 
 alone by the morning-room fire, Avith her head 
 shaking ominously, and her Avork laid aside. 
 
 " Family affairs V" thought Miss Garth, pon- 
 dering over Mrs. Vanstone's vague explana- 
 tory Avords. " I have lived tAvelve years at 
 Combe-Raven, and these are the first family 
 affairs Avbich have got betAveeu the parents 
 and the children In all my experience. What 
 does it mean V Change ? I suppose I 'ra 
 cettinji old. I don't like change." 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 CHAPTER II. . 
 
 At ten o'clock the next morning Norah and 
 Magdalen stood alone in the hall at Combe- 
 Raven watching the departure of tho carriage 
 which took their father and mother to the 
 London train. 
 
 Up to the last moment both the sisters had 
 hoped for some explanation of that mysterious 
 "famih- business" to whi<h Mrs. Vanstone had 
 so briefly alluded on the previous day. No 
 such explanation had been offered. Even the 
 agitation of the leave-taking, under circum- 
 stances entirely new in the home experience 
 of the parents and children, had not shaken 
 the resolute discretion of ISIr. and Mrs. Van- 
 gtone. They had gone — with the warmest 
 testimonies of afiection, Avith farewell cm- 
 braces fervently reiterated again and again — 
 but without dropping one word, from first to 
 last, of the nature of their errand. 
 
 As the grating sound of the carriage-wheels 
 ceased suddenly at a turn in the road, the 
 sisters looked one another in the face ; each 
 feeling and each betraying in her own wav 
 the dreary sense that she was openly excluded 
 for the first time from the confidence of her 
 parents. Norah's customary reserve strength- 
 ened into sullen silence — she sat down in one 
 of the hall chairs and looked out frownin^lv 
 through Thi> open house-door. Magdalen, as 
 usual whcTi her temper was ruffled, "expressed 
 her dissatisfaction in the plainest terms. " I 
 don't care who knows it — I think we are 
 both of us shamefully ill-used !" With those 
 words, the }oung lady followed her sister's 
 example by seating herself on a hall chair, 
 and looking aimlessly out through the open 
 house-door. 
 
 Almost at the same moment Miss Garth en- 
 tered tlie hall from the morning-room. H(^r 
 quick observation showed her the necessitv 
 for interfering to some practical jiurpose, and 
 her ready good sense at once pointed the Avay- 
 
 *' Look up, both of you, if you ])lease, and 
 listen to me," said Miss (iarth. " If we are 
 all three to be comfortable and happy to- 
 gether, now we are alone, Ave must stick to 
 our usual habits and go on in our regular 
 way. There ''s the state of things in plain 
 Avords. Accept the situation, as the French 
 gay. Here am I to set you the example. I 
 have just ordered an excellent dinner at the 
 cu.stomary hour. I am going to the medicine- 
 chest next to physic the kitcJien-maid — an un- 
 Avholesome girl, Avhose faceache is all stomach. 
 In the mean time, Norah, my dear, vou Avill 
 find your Avork and your books, as usual, in 
 the library. Magdalen, suppose you leave off 
 tying your handki-rchibf into knots, and use 
 your fingers on the keys of the piano instead? 
 We '11 lunch at one, and take the dogs out 
 afterward. Be as brisk and cheerful, both of 
 you, as I am. Come ! rouse up directly ! If 
 I see those gloomy faces any longer, as sure 
 2 
 
 as my name 's Garth I '11 give your mother 
 written Avarning, and go back to my friends 
 by the mixed train at twelve-forty." 
 
 Concluding her address of expostulation in 
 those terms. Miss Garth led Norah to the li- 
 brary door, pushed Magdalen into the morn- 
 ing-room, and went on her way sternly to the 
 regions of the medicine-t^hest. 
 
 In this half-jesting, half-earnest manner she 
 was accustomed to maintain a sort of friendly 
 authority over Mr. Vanstone's daughters after 
 her proper functions as coverness had neces- 
 sarily come to an end. Norah, it is nec<lless . 
 to say, had long since ceased to be her pupil. . 
 and Magdalen had by this time completed her 
 education. But Miss Garth had lived too • 
 long and too intimately under Mr. Vanstone's 
 roof to be parted with for any purely formal 
 considerations ; and the first hint at going 
 aAvay Avhich she had thought it her duty to 
 drop was dismissed with such affectionate 
 warmth of protest that she ncA'er repeated it 
 again except in jest. The entire management 
 of the household was, from that time forth, 
 left in her hands ; and to those duties she was 
 free to add what companionable assistance 
 she could render to Norah's reading, and 
 Avhat friendly superintendence she could still 
 [• exercise over ^Magdalen's music. Such were 
 the terms on which I\ilss Garth was noAv a 
 j resident i»i ]\tr. V^anstone's family. 
 I Toward the afternoon tin; weather im- 
 proved. At half-past one the sun Avas shin- 
 ing brightly ; and the ladies left the house, 
 accompanied by the dogs, to set. forth on their 
 Avalk. 
 
 They crossed the stream, and ascend(>d by 
 the little rocky pass to the hills beyond ; theu 
 diverged to the left, and returned by a cross- 
 road AvhIch led through the village of Combe- 
 Raven. 
 
 As they came In sight of the first cottages 
 they passed a man hanging about the road, 
 Avho looked attentively first at INIagdalen, then 
 at Norah. They merely observed that he Avas 
 short, that he was dressed in l)lack, and that 
 he was a total stranger to them, and continued 
 their homeward Aralk without thinking more 
 about the loitei-ing foot-passenger whom they 
 had met on their Avay back. 
 
 After they had Icfl the village and had 
 entered the road which led straight to the 
 house, Magdalen surprised Miss Garth by 
 announcing that the stranger in black liad 
 turned after they had passed him, and Ava.-^ , 
 noAv following them. " He keeps on Norah's 
 side of the road," she added, mischleA'ously. 
 " I 'm not the attraction — don't blame 7ne." 
 
 Whether the man was really following them 
 or not made little difference, for they Avere 
 now close to the house. As they passed 
 through the lodge-gates Miss Garth looked ' 
 round and saAV that the stranger was quicken- 
 inu; his ])ace, apparently with the jmrpose of 
 entering into conversation. Seeing this, she 
 at once directed the young ladies to go on to 
 
i6^ 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 the house with the dogs, while she herself 
 waited for events at the gate. 
 
 There was just time to complete this dis- 
 creet arrangement before the stranger reached 
 the lodge. He took oif his hat to Miss Garth 
 politely as she turned round. What did he 
 look like on the face of him ? He looked like 
 a clergyman in difficulties. 
 
 Taking his portrait from top to toe, the 
 picture of him began with a tall hat, broadly 
 encircled by a mourning band of crumpled 
 crape. Below the hat was a lean, long, sallow 
 face, deeply pitted with the small pox, and 
 characterized, very remarkably, by eyes of 
 two different colors — one bilious green, one 
 "bilious brown, both sharply intelligent. His 
 hair was iron-gray, carefully brushed round at 
 the temples. His cheeks and chin were in 
 the bluest bloom of smooth shaving ; his nose 
 was short Koman ; his lips long, thin, and 
 supple, curled up at the corners with a mildly- 
 humorous smile. His white cravat was high, 
 stiff, and dingy, the collar, higher, stiff er, and 
 dingier, projected its rigid points on either 
 side beyond his chin. Lower down, the lithe 
 little figure of the man was arrayed through- 
 out in sober-shabby black. His frock coat 
 was buttoned tight round the waist, and left 
 the bulge open majestically at the chest. His 
 hands were covered with black cotton gloves 
 neatly darned at the fingers; his umbrella, 
 worn down at the ferule to the last quarter of 
 an inch, was carefully preserved, neverthe- 
 less, in an oil-skin case. The front view of 
 him was the view in which he looked oldest ; 
 meeting him face to face, he might have been 
 estimated at fifty or more. Walking behind 
 him, his back and shoulders were almost young 
 enough to have passed for five and thirty. 
 His manners were distinguished by a grave 
 serenity. When he opened his lips, he spoke 
 in a rich bass voice, with an easy flow of lan- 
 guage, and a strict attention to the elocu- 
 tionary claims of words in more than one 
 syllable. Persuasion distilled from his mildly- 
 curling lips ; and shabby as he was, perennial 
 flowers of courtesy bloomed all over him from 
 head to foot. 
 
 " This is the residence of Mr. Yanstone, I 
 believe '?" he began, with a circular wave of 
 his hand in the direction of the house. " Have 
 I the honor of addressing a member of Mr. 
 Vanstone's family ?" 
 
 " Yes," said th6 plain-spoken Miss Garth. 
 "You are addressing Mr. Vanstone's gov- 
 erness." 
 
 The persuasive man fell back a step — ad- 
 mired Mr. Vanstone's governess — advanced 
 a step again — and continued the conversation. 
 
 " And the two young ladies," he went on, 
 " the two young ladies who were walking with 
 you are doubtless Mr. Vanstone's daughters ? 
 I recognized the darker of the two, and the 
 elder as I apprehend, by her likeness to her ■ 
 handsome mother. The younger lady^" 
 
 " You ^re acquainted with Mrs. Vanstone, 
 
 I suppose ?" said Miss Garth, interrupting the 
 stranger's flow of language, which, all things 
 considered, was beginning, in her opinion, to 
 flow rather freely. The stranger acknowl- 
 edged the interruption by one of his polite 
 bows, and submerged Miss Garth in his next 
 sentence as if nothing had happened. 
 
 " The younger lady," he proceeded, " takes 
 after her father, I presume ? I assure you 
 her face struck me. Looking at it with my 
 friendly interest in the family, I thought it 
 very remarkable. I said to myself — Charming, 
 characteristic, memorable. Not like her sister, 
 not like her mother. No doubt the image of 
 her father ?" 
 
 Once more Miss Garth attempted to stem 
 the man's flow of words. It was plain thfit he 
 did not know Mr. Vanstone, even by sight — 
 otherwise he would never have committed the 
 error of supposing that Magdalen took after 
 her father. Did he know Mrs. Vanstone any 
 better ? He had left Miss Garth's question on 
 that point unanswered. In the name of won- 
 der, who was he ? Powers of impudence ! 
 what did he want ? 
 
 " You may be a friend of the family, though 
 I don't remember your face," said Miss Garth. . 
 " What may your commands be, if you please ? > 
 Did you come here to pay Mrs. Vanstone a 
 visit ?" 
 
 " I had anticipated the pleasure of commu- 
 nicating with Mrs. Vanstone," answered this 
 inveterately evasive and inveterately civil 
 man. " How is she ?" 
 
 " Much as usual," said Miss Garth, feeling 
 her resources of politeness fast failing her. 
 
 " Is she at home ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 '' Out for long?" 
 
 " Gone to London with Mr. Vanstone." 
 
 The man's long face suddenly grew longer. 
 His bilious brown eye looked disconcerted, 
 and his bilious green eye followed its example. 
 His manner became palpably anxious, and his 
 choice of words was more carefully selected 
 than ever. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Vanstone's absence likely to ex- 
 tend over any very lengthened period ?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 " It will extend over three weeks," replied 
 Miss Garth. "I think you have now asked 
 me questions enough," she went on, beginning 
 to let her temper get the better of her at last. 
 " Be so good, if you please, as to mention your 
 business and your name. If you have any 
 message to leave for Mrs. Vanstone, I shall be 
 writing to her by to-night's post, and I can 
 take charge of it." 
 
 " A thousand thanks ! A most valuable sug- 
 gestion. Permit me to take advantage of it 
 immediately." 
 
 He was not in the least affected by the se- 
 verity of Miss Garth's looks and language — he 
 was simply relieved by her proposal, and he 
 showed it with the most engaging sincerity. 
 This time his bilious green eye took the initi- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 11 
 
 ative, and set his bilious brown eye the exam- 
 ple of recovered serenity. His curling lij)s 
 took a new twist upward; he tucked his 
 umbrella briskly under his arm, and produced 
 from the breast of his coat a large old-fash- 
 ioned black pocket-book. From this he took 
 a pencil and a card — hesitated and considered 
 for a moment — wrote rapidly on the card — 
 and placed it, with the politest alacrity, in 
 Miss Garth's hand. 
 
 " I shall feel personally obliged if you will 
 honor me by inclosing that card in your 
 letter," he said. " Tliere is no necessity for 
 my troubling you additionally with a message. 
 My name will be quite sufficient to recall a 
 little family matter to Mrs. Vanstone which 
 has no doubt escaped her memory. Accept 
 my best thanks. This has been a day of 
 agreeable surprises to me. I have found the 
 country hereabout remarkably pretty ; I have 
 seen ]\Irs. A'^ansfonc's two charming daugh- 
 ters ; 1 have become acquainted with an hon- 
 ored preceptress in ^Ir. Vanstone's family. I 
 congratulate myself — I apologize for occupy- 
 ing your valuable time — I beg my renewed 
 acknowlcdgmenls — I wish you good morning!" 
 
 He raised his tall hat. His brown eye 
 twinkled, his green eye twinkled, his curly 
 lips smiled sweetly. In a moment he turned 
 on liis heel. His youthful back appeared to 
 the best advantage ; his active little legs took 
 him away tripjiingly in the direction of the 
 village. One, two, three — and he reached 
 the turn in the road. Four, five, six, and he 
 was gone. 
 
 Miss Garth looked down at the card in her 
 hand, and looked up again in blank astonish- 
 ment.. The name and address of the cleri- 
 cal-looking stranger (both written in pencil) 
 ran as follows : Captain Wragge. Post-office^ 
 Bristol. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 When she returned to the house. Miss Garth 
 made no attempt to conceal her unfavorable 
 oj)inion of the stranger in black. His object 
 was, no doubt, to obtain pecuniary assistance 
 from Mrs. Vanstone. Wliat the nature of his 
 claim on her might be seemed less intelligi- 
 ble — unless it was the claim of a poor rela- 
 tion. Ha<l Mrs. Vanstone ever mentioned, in 
 the presence of her daughters, the name of 
 Captain Wragge? Neither of them recol- 
 lected to have heard it before. Had ^Irs. 
 Vanstone ever referred to any poor relations 
 who were dependent on her? On the con- 
 trary, she had mentioned of late years that 
 she doubted having any relations at all who 
 were still living. And yet Captain Wragge 
 had plainly declared that the name on his 
 card would recall "a family matter" to Mrs. 
 Vanstone's memory. What did it mean ? A 
 false statement on the stranger's part, without 
 any intelligible reason for making it ? Or a 
 
 second mystery, following close on the heels 
 of the mysterious journey to London ? 
 
 All the probabilities seemed to point to 
 some hidden connection between the "family 
 affairs" which had taken Mr. and Mrs. Van- 
 stone so suddenly from home, and the " family 
 matter" associated with the name of Captain 
 Wragge. Miss Garth's doubts of the day 
 before thronged back on her mind as she 
 sealed her letter to Mrs. Vanstone, with the 
 captain's card added by way of inclosure. 
 
 By return of post the answer arrived. 
 
 Always the earliest riser among the ladies 
 of the house. Miss Garth was aloue in the 
 breakfast-room when the letter was brought 
 in. Her first glance at its contents convinced 
 her of the necessity of reading it carefully 
 through in retirement before any eml)arrassing 
 (piestions could be put to her. Leaving a 
 message with the servant re(]uesting Norah to 
 make the tea that morning, she Avent up stairs 
 at once to the solitude and security of her 
 own room. 
 
 Mrs. Vanstone's letter extended to some 
 length. The first part of it referred to Cap- 
 tain Wragge, and entered unreservedly into 
 all necessary explanations relating to the man 
 himself, anil to the motive which had brought 
 him to Combe-Raven. 
 
 It appeared from Mrs. Vanstone's statenient 
 that her mother had been twice married. Her 
 mother's first husband had been a certain 
 Doctor Wragge — a widower with young chil- 
 dren ; and one of those children was now the 
 unmilitary-looking captain, whose address was 
 " Post-office, Bristol." IMrs. Wragge had left 
 no family by her first husband; ami had after- 
 ward married Mrs. Vanstone's father. Of 
 that second marriage Mrs. Vanstone herself 
 was the only issue. She had lost both her 
 parents while she was still a young woman ; 
 and in course of years her mother's family 
 connections (who were then her nearest sur- 
 viving relatives) had been one after another 
 removed by death. She was left, at the pres- 
 ent writing, without a relation in the world — 
 excepting, perhaps, certain cousiuB whom she 
 had never seen, and of whose existence even, 
 at the present moment, she possessed no posi- 
 tive knowledge. 
 
 Under these circumstances, what family 
 claim had Captain Wragge on Mrs. Vanstone ? 
 
 None whatever. As tiie son of her mother's 
 first husband, by that husband's first wife, not 
 even the widest' stretch of courtesy could have 
 included him at any time in the list of Mrs. 
 Vanstone's most distant relations. Well know- 
 in" this (the letter proceeded to say), he had 
 nevertheless i)ersisted in forcing himself upon 
 her as a species of family connection ; and she 
 had weakly .sanctioned the intrusion solely 
 from the dread that he would otherwise intro- 
 duce himself to Mr. Vanstone's notice, and 
 take unblushing advantage of Mr. Vanstone's 
 generosity. Shrinking naturally from allow- 
 ing her husband to be annoyed, and probably 
 
12 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 cheated as well, by any person who claimed, 
 however preposterously, a family connection 
 with herself, it had been her practice, for 
 many years past, to assist the captain from 
 her own purse, on the condition that he should 
 never come near the house, and that he should 
 not presume to make any appHcation what- 
 ever to Mr. Vanstoue. 
 
 Readily admitting the imprudence of this 
 course, Mrs. Vanstone further explained that 
 she had perhaps been the more inclined to 
 adopt it, through having been always accus- 
 tomed, in her early days, to see the captain 
 living now upon one member and now upon 
 another of her mother's family. Possessed of 
 abilities which might have raised him to dis- 
 tinction in almost any career that he could 
 have chosen, he had nevertheless, from his 
 youth ixpward, been a disgrace to all his rela- 
 tives. He had been expelled the militia regi- 
 • ment in which he once held a commission. 
 He had tried one employment after another, 
 and had discreditably failed in all. He had 
 lived on his wits in the lowest and basest 
 meaning of the plirase. He had married a 
 poor, ignorant woman, who had served as a 
 waitress at some low eating-house, who had 
 unexpectedly come into a little money, and 
 whose small inheritance he had mercilessly 
 squandered to the last farthing. In plain 
 terms, he was an incorrigible scoundrel ; and 
 he had now added one more to the list of his 
 many misdemeanors, by impudently breaking 
 the conditions on which Mrs. Vanstone had 
 hitherto assisted him. She had written at 
 once to the address indicated on his card, in 
 such terms and to such purpose as would pre- 
 vent him, she hoped and believed, from ever 
 venturing near the house again. Such were 
 the terms in which Mrs. Vanstone concluded 
 that first part of her letter which referred 
 exclusively to Captain Wragge. 
 
 Although the statement thus presented im- 
 plied a weakness in Mrs. Vanstone's character 
 which Miss Garth, after many years of inti- 
 . mate experience, had never detected, she ac- 
 cepted the explanation as a matter of course ; 
 receiving it all the more readily, inasmuch as 
 it might, without impropriety, be communi- 
 cated in substance to appease the irritated 
 curiosity of the two young ladies. For this 
 reason especially, she perused the first half of 
 the letter with an agreeable sense of relief 
 Far different was the impression produced on 
 her when she advanced to the second half, 
 and when she had read it to the end. 
 
 The second part of the letter was devoted 
 to the subject of the journey to London. 
 
 Mrs. Vanstone began by referring to the 
 long and intimate friendship which had ex- 
 isted between Miss Garth and herself. She 
 now felt it due to that friendship to explain con- 
 fidentially the motive which had induced her 
 to leave home with her husband. Miss Garth 
 had delicately refrained from showing it, but 
 , she must naturally have felt, and must still be 
 
 feeling, great surprise at the mystery in which 
 their departure had been involved ; and she 
 must doubtless have asked herself why Mrs. 
 Vanstone should have been associated with 
 family affairs which (in her independent ])osi- 
 tion as to relatives) must necessarily concern 
 Mr. Vanstone alone. 
 
 Without touching on those affairs, which it 
 was neither desirable nor necessary to do, 
 Mrs. Vanstone then proceeded to say that she 
 would at once set all Miss Garth's doubts at 
 rest, so far as they related to herself, by one 
 plain acknowledgment. Her object in accom- 
 panying her husband to London was to see a 
 certain celebrated physician, and to consult 
 him privately upon a very delicate and anx- 
 ious matter connected with the state of her 
 health. In plainer terms still, this anxious 
 matter meant nothing less than the possibility 
 that she might again become a mother. 
 
 When the doubt had first suggested itself 
 she had treated it as a mere delusion. The 
 long interval that had elapsed since the birth 
 of her last child ; the serious illness which had 
 afflicted her after the death of that child in 
 infancy ; the time of life at which she had now 
 arrived — all inclined her to dismiss the idea as 
 soon as it arose in her mind. It had returned 
 again and again in spite of her. She had felt 
 the necessity of consulting the highest medical 
 authority; and had shrunk, at the same time, 
 from alarming her daughters by summoning a 
 London physician to the house. The medical 
 opinion, sought under the circumstances al- 
 ready mentioned, had now been obtained. 
 Her doubt was confirmed as a certainty ; and 
 the result, which might be expected to take 
 place toward the end of summer, was, at her 
 age and with her constitutional peculiarities, 
 a subject for serious future anxiety, to say the 
 least of it. The physician had done his best 
 to encourage her ; but she had understood the 
 drift of his questions more clearly than he 
 supposed, and she knew that he looked to ths 
 future with more than ordinary doubt. 
 
 Having disclosed these particulars, Mrs. 
 Vanstone requested that they might be kept 
 a secret between her correspondent and her- 
 self She had felt unwilling to mention her 
 suspicions to Miss Garth until those suspicions 
 had been confirmed — and she now recoiled, 
 with even greater reluctance, from allowing 
 her daughters to be in any way alarmed about 
 her. It would be best to dismiss the subject 
 for the present, and to wait hopefully till the 
 summer came. In the mean time they would 
 all, she trusted, be happily reunited on the 
 twenty-third of the month, which Mr. Van- 
 stone had fixed on as the day for their return. 
 With this intimation, and with the customary 
 messages, the letter abruptly and confusedly 
 came to an end. 
 
 For the first few minutes a natural sympa- 
 thy for Mrs. Vanstone was the only feeling of 
 which Miss Garth was conscious after she had 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 IS 
 
 laid the letter down. Ere lon<T, however, 
 there rose obscurely on her mind a doubt 
 which perplexed and distressed her. Was 
 the explanation which she had just read really 
 as satisfactory and as complete as it jirofessed 
 to be ? Testing it plainly by facts, surely not. 
 On the morning of her departui-e IMrs. 
 Vanstone had unquestionably left the house 
 in good spirits. At her age, and in her state 
 of health, were good spirits compatible with 
 such an errand to a physician as the errand 
 on which she was bent? Then, again, had 
 that letter from Now Orleans, which had ne- 
 cessitated jMr. Vanstone's departure, no share 
 In occasioning his wife's departure as well ? 
 ^VIly otherwise had she looked up so eagerly 
 the moment her daughter mentioned the post- 
 mark ? Granting the avowed motive for her 
 journey — did not her manner, on the morning 
 when the letter was opened, and again on the 
 morning of departure, suggest the existence 
 of some other motive which her letter kept 
 concealed ? 
 
 If it was so, the conclusion that followed 
 was a very disti-essing one. ]\Irs. Vanstone, 
 feeling what was due to her long friendship 
 with Miss (xarth, had apparently placed the 
 fullest confidence in her on one subject, by 
 way of unsuspiciously maintaining the strictest 
 reserve toward her on another. Naturally 
 frank and straightforward in all her own deal- 
 ings, Miss Garth shrank from plainly pursuing 
 her doubts to this result: a want of loyalty 
 toward her tried and valued friend seemed 
 implied in the mere dawning of it on her 
 mind. 
 
 She locked up the letter in her desk ; roused 
 herself resolutely to attend to the passing in- 
 terests of the day ; and went down stairs 
 again to the breakfast-room. Amidst many 
 uncertainties, this at least was clear : Mr. and 
 Mrs. Vanstone were coming back on the 
 twenty-third of the month. Who could say 
 ■what new revelations might not come back 
 with them ? 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 No new revelations came back with them — 
 no anticipations associated with their return 
 were realized. On the one forbidden subject 
 of their errand in Ivondon there was no mov- 
 ing either the master or the mistress of the 
 house. Whatever their object might have 
 been, they had to all appearance successfully 
 accomplished it — (or they both returned in 
 perfect possession of their everyday looks aiul 
 manners. Mrs. Vanstone's spirits had sub- 
 sided to their natural quiet level ; Mr. Van- 
 stone's imperturbable cheerfulness sat as easily 
 and indolently on him as usual. This was the 
 one noticeable result of their journey — this, 
 and no more. Had the household revolution 
 run its course already ? Was the secret, thus 
 far hidden impenetrably, hidden for ever ? 
 
 Nothing in this world is hidden for ever. 
 The gold, which has lain for centuries unsus- 
 pected in the ground, reveals itself one day 
 on the surface. Sand turns traitor, and be- 
 trays the footstep that has passed over it; 
 water gives back to the telltale surface the 
 body that has been drowned. Fire itself 
 leaves the confession, in ashes, of the substance 
 consumed in it. Ilate breaks its prison-secrecy 
 in the thoughts, through the doorway of the 
 eyes; and Love finds the Judas who betrays 
 it by a kiss. Look where we will, the inevi- 
 table law of revelation is one of the laws of 
 nature: the lasting preservation of a secret is 
 a miracle which the world has never yet seen. 
 
 How was the secret now hidden in the 
 household at Combe-Ilaven doomed to disclose 
 itself? Through what coming event in the 
 daily lives of the father, the mother, and the 
 daughters was the law of revelation destined 
 to break the fatal way to discovery ? The 
 way opened (unseen by the parents, and un- 
 suspected by the children) through the first 
 event that happened after Mr. and Mrs. Van- 
 stone's return — an event which presented, 
 on the surl'ace of it, no interest of greater im- 
 portance than the trivial social ceremony of a 
 morning call. 
 
 Three days after the master and mistress of 
 Combe-Raven had come back the. female mem- 
 bers of the, family happened to be assembled 
 together in the morning-room. The view 
 from the windows looked over the flower- 
 garden and shrubbery ; this last being pro- 
 tected at its outward extremity by a fence, 
 and approached from the lane beyond by a 
 wicket-gate. During an interval in the con- 
 versation the attention of the ladies was sud- 
 denly attracted to this gate by the sharp sound 
 of the iron latch falling in its socket. Some 
 one had entered the shrubbery irom the lane; 
 and Magdalen at once placed herself at the 
 window to catch the first sight of the visitor 
 through the trees. 
 
 After a few minutes the figure of a gentle- 
 man became visible at the point where the 
 shrubbery path joined the winding garden- 
 walk which led to the house. Magdalen looked 
 at him attentively, without apjicaring, at first, 
 to know who he was. As lu; came nearer, 
 however, she started in astonishment, and, 
 turning quickly to her mother and sister, pro- 
 claimed the gentleman in the garden to be no 
 other than "Mr. Francis Clare." 
 
 The visitor thus announced was the son of 
 Mr. Vanstone's oldest associate and nearest 
 neighbor. 
 
 Mr. Clare the elder inhabited an unpretend- 
 ing little cottage situated just outside the 
 shrubbery fence which marked the limit of the 
 Combe-liavcn grounds. Belonging to the 
 younger branch of a family of great antiquity, 
 the one inheritance of importance that he had 
 derived from his ancestors was the possession 
 of a magnificent library, which not only filled 
 
14 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 all the rooms in his modest little dwelling, but 
 lined the staircases and passages as well. Mr. 
 Clare's books represented the one important 
 interest of Mr. Clare's life. He had been a 
 widower for many years past, and made no 
 secret of his philosophical resignation to the 
 loss of his wife. As a father, he regarded his 
 family of three sons in the light of a necessary 
 domestic evil, which perpetually threatened 
 the sanctity of his study and the safety of his 
 books. When the boys went to school, Mr. 
 Clare said "good-by" to them, and "thank 
 God" to himself. As for his small income, 
 and his still smaller domestic establisinnent, he 
 looked at them both from the same satirically 
 indifferent point of view. He called himself 
 a pauper with a pedigree. He abandoned the 
 entire direction of his household to the slat- 
 ternly old woman who was his only servant, 
 on the condition that she was never to venture 
 near bis books with a duster in her hand from 
 one year's end to the other. His favorite 
 poets were Horace and Pope; his chosen phi- 
 losophers, Hobbes and Voltaire. He took his 
 exercise and his fresh air under protest ; and 
 always walked the same distance to a yard, on 
 the ugliest high-road in 'the neighborhood. 
 He Avas crooked of back, and quick of tem- 
 per. He could digest radishes, and sleep after 
 green tea. His views of human nature Avei-e 
 the views of Diogenes, tempered by Roche- 
 foucault ; his personal habits were slovenly in 
 the last degree ; and his favorite boast was, 
 that he had outlived all human prejudices. 
 
 Such was this singular man in his more su- 
 perficial aspects. What nobler qualities he 
 might possess below the surface no one had 
 ever discovered. Mr. Vanstone, it is true, 
 stoutly asserted that " Mr. Clare's worst side 
 was his outside;" but in this expression of 
 opinion he stood alone among his neighbors. 
 The association between these two widely- 
 dissimilar men had lasted for many years, and 
 was almost close enough to be called a friend- I 
 ship. They had acquired a habit of meeting 
 to smoke together on certain evenings in the 
 week in the cynic-philosopher's study, and of 
 there disputing on every imaginable subject — 
 Mr. Vanstone flourishing the stout cudgels of 
 assertion, and Mr. Clare meeting him with the 
 keen-edged tools of sophistry. They generally 
 quarreled at night, and met on the neutral 
 ground of the shrubbery to be reconciled 
 together the next morning. The bond of in- 
 tercourse thus curiously established between 
 them was strengthened on Mr. Vanstone's 
 side by a hearty interest in his neighbor's 
 three sons — an interest by which those sons 
 benefited all the more importantly, seeing 
 that one of the prejudices which their father 
 Had outlived was a prejudice in favor of his 
 own children. 
 
 " I look at those boys," the philosopher was 
 accustomed to say, "with a perfectly impartial 
 eye ; I dismiss the unimportant accident of 
 their birth from all consideration, and I find 
 
 them below the average in every respect. The 
 only excuse which a poor gentleman has for 
 presuming to exist in the nineteenth century 
 is the excuse of extraordinary ability. My 
 boys have been addle-headed from infancy. If 
 I had any capital to give them, I should make 
 Frank a butcher, Cecil a baker, and Arthur a 
 grocer — those being the only human voca- 
 tions I know of which are certain to be always 
 in request. As it is, I have no money to help 
 them with, and they have no brains to help 
 themselves. They appear to me to be three 
 human superfluities in dirty jackets and noisy 
 boots; and, unless they clear themselves off 
 the community by running away, I don't my- 
 self profess to see what is to be done with 
 them." 
 
 Fortunately for the boys, Mr. Vanstone's 
 views were still fast imprisoned in the ordinary 
 prejudices. At his intercession, and through 
 his influence, Frank, Cecil, and Arthur were 
 received on the foundation of a well-reputed 
 grammar school. In holiday time they were 
 mercifully allowed the run of Mr. Vanstone's 
 paddock, and were humanized and refined by 
 association indoors with Mrs. Vanstone and 
 her daughters. On these occasions Mr. Clare 
 used sometimes to walk aci'oss from his cot^ 
 tage (in his dressing-gown and slippers), and 
 look at the boys disparagingly, through the win- 
 dow or over the fence, as if they were three 
 wild animals whom his neighbor was attempt- 
 ing to tame. " You and your wife are excel- 
 lent people," he used to say to Mr. Vanstone. 
 " I respect your honest prejudices in favor of 
 these boys of mine with all my heart. But 
 you are so wrong about them — you are, in- 
 deed I I wish to give no offense ; I speak quite 
 impartially ; but mark my words, Vanstone — 
 they '11 all three turn out ill, in spite of every- 
 thing you can do for them." 
 
 In later years, when Frank had reached the 
 age of seventeen, the same curious shifting of 
 the relative positions of parent and friend 
 between the two neighbors was exemplified 
 more absurdly than ever. A civil engineer 
 in the north of England, who owed certain 
 obligations to Mr. Vanstone, expressed his 
 willingness to take Frank under superintend- 
 ence on terms of the most favorable kind. 
 When this proposal was received, Mr. Clare, 
 as usual, first shifted his own character as 
 Frank's father on Mr. Vanstone's shoulders — 
 and then moderated his neighbor's parental 
 enthusiasm from the point of view of an im- 
 partial spectator. 
 
 "It 's the finest chance for Frank that 
 could possibly have happened !" cried Mr. 
 Vanstone, in a glow of fatherly enthusiasm. 
 
 " My good fellow, he won't take it," retorted 
 Mr. Clare, with the icy composure of a disin- 
 terested friend. 
 
 " But he shall take it," persisted Mr. Van- 
 stone. 
 
 " Say he shall have a mathematical head," 
 rejoined Mr. Clare; "say he shall possess in- 
 
:S0 NAME. 
 
 15 
 
 dustry, ambition, ami firmnes? of purpose! 
 Pooh! pooh! you don't look at him with my 
 impartial eyes. I say, No mathematics, no 
 industry, no ambition, no firmness of purpose. 
 Franic " is a compound of negatives — and 
 there they are." 
 
 " Hans; your negatives !" shouted Mr. Van- 
 stone. " I don't care a rusli for negatives, or 
 aflirniatives either. Frank shall have this 
 splendid chance; and I '11 lay yon any wager 
 you like he makes the best of it." 
 
 "I am not rich enough to lay wages usual- 
 ly," replied Mr. Clare ;"" but I think I have 
 got a guinea about tlie house somewhere; and 
 I '11 lay you that guinea Frank comes back on 
 our hands like a bad shilling." 
 
 ''Done!" said Mr. Vanstonc. "No: stop a 
 minute ! I won't do the lad's character the in- 
 justice of backing it at even money. I '11 lay 
 you five to one Frank turns up trumps in this 
 business ! You ought to be ashamed of your- 
 self for talking of him as you do. What sort 
 of hocus-pocus you bring it about by 1 don't 
 pretend to know ; but you always end in 
 making me take his part, as if I was his 
 father instead of you. Ah, yes! give yon 
 time, and you '11 defend yourself. I won't 
 give you time; I won't have any of your spe- 
 cial pleading. Black 's white, according to 
 you. I don't care : it 's black, for all that. 
 You may talk nineteen to the dozen — I shall 
 write to my friend, and say Yes, in Frank's 
 Interests, by to-day's post." 
 
 Such were the circumstances under which 
 Mr. Francis Clare departed for the north of 
 England, at the age of seventeen, to start in 
 life as a civil engineer. 
 
 From time to time Mr. Vanstone's friend 
 communicated with him on the subject of the 
 new pupil. Frank was praised as a quiet, 
 gentlemanlike, interesting lad — but he was 
 also reported to be rather slow at acquiring 
 the rudiments of engineering seicace. Other 
 letters, later in date, descril)ed him as a little 
 too ready to despond about himself; as having 
 been sent away, on that account, to some new 
 railway works, to see if change of .scene would 
 rouse him; and as having benefited in every 
 respect by the experiment — except perhaps 
 in regard to his professional studies, which still 
 a<lvanced but slowly. Subsequent communi- 
 cations announced his departure, under care 
 of a trustworthy foreman, for some public 
 works in Belgium; toucdied on the general 
 benefit he ai)peared to derive from ihis new 
 change ; praised his excellent maiineTS and 
 address, wiiich were of great assistance in 
 facilitating business communications with the 
 foreigners — and passed over in ominous 
 silence the main question of his actual prog- 
 ress in the ac<piirement of knowledge, "rhese 
 reports, and many others which resembled 
 them, were all conscientiously presented by 
 Frank's friend to the attention of Frank's 
 father. On each occasion Mr. Clare exulted 
 over Mr. Vanstone, and ^Ir. Vanstone quar- 
 
 reled with Mr. Clare. "One of these days 
 you '11 wish you had n't laid that w;iger," said 
 the cynic-pliilosopher. " One of these days I 
 shall have the blessed satisfaction of pocketing 
 your guinea," cried the sanguine friend. Two 
 years had been passed since Frank's depart- 
 ure. In one year more results asserted tlicm- 
 selves, and settled the question. 
 
 Two ttays after Mr. \'anstone's return from 
 London he was called away from the break- 
 fast-table before he had ibund time enough to 
 look over Ids letters delivered by the morn- 
 ing's post. Thrusting them into one of the 
 pockets of his shooting jacket, he took the 
 letters out again at one grasp, to read them 
 when occasion served, later in the day. The 
 grasp included the whole correspondence, with 
 one excej)tion — tliat exception being a fijiffl 
 report from the civil engineer, which notified 
 the termination of tiie connection bcLtveen 
 his pupil and himself, and the immediate re- 
 turn of Frank to his fatlier's house. 
 
 While this important announcement lay 
 unsuspected in Mr. Vanstone's pocket, the ob- 
 ject of it was traveling home as fast as rail- 
 ways could take him. At half-past ten at 
 night, while ^Ir. Clare was sitting in .studious 
 solitude over his books and green tea, with 
 his favorite black eat to keep him company, 
 he heard footsteps in the passage — the door 
 opened — and Frank stood before him. 
 
 Ordinary men would have been astonished. 
 But the philosopher's composure was not to be 
 shaken by any such trifie as the unex])ected 
 return of his eldest son. lie could not have 
 looked up more calmly from his learned volume 
 if Frank had been absent for three minutes 
 instead of three years. 
 
 " Exactly what I predicted," said Mr. Clare. 
 ' Don't interruj)t me by making exj)lanations; 
 and don't frighten the cat. If there is any- 
 thing to eat in the kitchen, get it and go to 
 bed. You can walk over to Combe-Raven 
 to-morrow, and give this message from me to 
 ]\lr. Vanstone : " ' Father's comjiliments, Sir, 
 and I have come back on your hands like a bad 
 shilling, as he always said I should. He keeps 
 his own guinea, aiid takes your five ; and. he 
 hopes you '11 mind what he says to you another 
 time.' " That is the message. Shut the door 
 after you. Good night." 
 
 Under these unfavorable auspices Mr. Fran- 
 cis Clare made his appearance the next morn- 
 ing in the grounds at Combe-Raven ; and, 
 something doubtful of the reception that might 
 await him, slowly approached the precincts of 
 the house. 
 
 It was not wonderful that Magdalen should 
 have failed to recognize him when he first ap- 
 peared in view, fie had gone away a back- 
 ward lad of seventeen ; he returned a young 
 man of twenty. Ilia slim figure had now 
 acquired strength and grace, and had increased 
 in stature to the medium height. The .small, 
 regular features, which he was suppo.sed to 
 have inherited from his mother, were rounded 
 
16 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 and filled out, -witliout having lost their re- 
 markable delicacy of form. His beard was 
 still in its infancy, and nascent lines of whisker 
 traced their modest way sparely down his 
 cheeks. Ilis gentle, wandering brown eyes 
 would have looked to better advantage in a 
 woman's face — they wanted spirit and firmness 
 to fit them for the face of a man. Ilis hands 
 had the same wandering habit as his eyes; they 
 were constantly changing from one position to 
 another, constantly twisting and turning any 
 little stray thing they could y)ick up. He was 
 undeniably handsome, graceful, well-b7-ed ; but 
 no close observer could look at him without 
 suspecting that the stout old family stock had 
 begun to wear out in the later generations, 
 and that Mr. Francis Clare had more in him 
 of the shadow of his ancestors than of the 
 substance. 
 
 When the astonishment caused by his ap- 
 pearance had partially subsided a search was 
 instituted for the missing report. It was found 
 in the remotest recesses of Mr. Vanstone's 
 capacious pocket, and was read by that gentle- 
 man on the spot. 
 
 The plain facts, as stated by the engineer, 
 were briefly these. Frank was not possessed 
 of the necessary abilities to fit him for his new 
 calling, and it was useless to M'aste time by 
 keeijing him any longer in an employment for 
 which he had no vocation. This, after three 
 years' trial, being the conviction on both sides, 
 the master had thought it the most straight- 
 forward coui'se for the pupil to go home, and 
 candidly jjlace results before his father and his 
 friends. In some other pursuit for which he 
 was more fit, and in which he could feel an 
 interest, he would no doubt display the indus- 
 try and perseverance which he had been too 
 much discouraged to practice in the profession 
 that he had now abandoned. Personally, he 
 was liked by all who knew him ; and his future 
 prosporitv was heartily desired by the many 
 friends whom he had made in the North. Sucli 
 was the substance of the report, and so it came 
 to an end. 
 
 Many men would have thought the engi- 
 neer's statement rather too carefully worded ; 
 and, suspecting him of trying to make the best 
 of a bad case, would have entertained serious 
 doubts on the subject of Frank's future. Mr. 
 Vanstone was too easy -tempered and sanguine ; 
 and too anxious as well, not to yield his old 
 antagonist an inch more ground than he could 
 help— to look at tlie letter from any such un- 
 favorable point of view. Was it Frank's fault 
 if he had not got the stuff in him that engi- 
 neers were made of? Did no other young men 
 ever begin life with a false start? Plenty 
 began in that way, and got over it, and did 
 wonders afterward. With these commentaries 
 on the letter the kind-'iearted gentleman patted 
 Frank on the sijioulder. " Cheer up, my lad !" 
 said Mr. Vanstone. " We will be even with 
 your father one of these days, though he has 
 won the watrer this time !" 
 
 The example thus set by the master of the 
 house was followed at once lay the family — with 
 the solitary exception of Norah, whose incura- 
 ble formality and reserve expressed themselves, 
 not too graciously, in her distant manner to- 
 ward the visitor. The rest, led by Magdalen 
 (who had been Frank's favorite play-fellow in 
 past times), glided back into their old easy 
 habits with him Avithout an elFort. He was 
 "Fi'ank" with all of them but Norah, who 
 persisted in addressing him as "Mr. Clare." 
 Even the account he was now encouraged to 
 give of the reception accorded to him by his 
 father on the previous night failed to disturb 
 Norah's gravity. She sat with her dark hand- 
 some face steadily averted, her eyes cast down, 
 and the rich color in her cheeks warmer and 
 deeper than usual. All the rest. Miss Garth 
 included, found old Mr. Clare's speech of wel- 
 come to his son quite irresistible. The noise 
 and merriment were at their height when the 
 servant came in and struck the whole party 
 dumb by the announcement of visitors in the 
 drawing-room. " Mr. INIarrable, Mrs. Marra- 
 ble, and Miss Marrable ; Evergreen Lodge, 
 Clifton." 
 
 Norah rose as readilj^ as if the new arrivals 
 had been a relief to her mind. j\Irs. Vanstone 
 was the next to leave her chair. These two 
 went away first to receive the visitors. Mag- 
 dalen, who preferred the society of her father 
 and Frank, pleaded hard to be left behind; but 
 Miss Garth, after granting five minutes' grace, 
 took her into custody and marched her out of 
 the room. Frank rose to take his leave. 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Vanstone, detaining him. 
 " Don't go. These people won't stop long. 
 Mr. Marrable 's a merchant at Bristol. I 've 
 met him once or twice when the girls forced 
 me to take them to parties at Clitton. Mere 
 accjuaintances, nothing more. Come and 
 smoke a cigar in the green-house. Hang all 
 visitors — they worry one's lifi^ out. I '11 appear 
 at the last moment with an apology ; and you 
 shair follow me at a safe distance, and be a 
 proof that I was really engaged." 
 
 Proposing this ingenious stratagem in a con- 
 fidential whisper, Mr. Vanstone took Frank's 
 arm and led him round the house by the back 
 way. The first ten minutes of seclusion in the 
 conservatory passed without events of any kind. 
 At the end of that time a fiying figure in bright 
 garments flashed upon the two gentlemen 
 through the glass — the door was flung open — 
 flower-pots fell in homage to j:)assing petticoats, 
 and Mr. Vanstone's youngest daughter ran up 
 to him at headlong speed, with every external 
 appearance of having suddenly taken leave of 
 her senses. 
 
 " Papa ! the dream of my whole life is real- 
 ized," she said, as soon as she could speak. " I 
 shall fly through the roof of the green-house if 
 somebody doesn't hold me down. The Marra- 
 bles have come here with an invitation, (iuess, 
 you darling — guess what they 're going to give 
 at Evergreen Lodge 1" 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 17 
 
 " A ball," said Mr. Vanstnne, without a mo- 
 ment's liositation. 
 
 " Private Theatricals ! ! !" cried Magdalen, 
 her clear young voice ringing throngli tlie 
 conservatory like a bell ; her loose sleeves fall- 
 ing back, and showing Jier round wliite arms 
 to the dimpled elbows as she clapped her hands 
 ecstatically in the air. " Tlie Rivals is the 
 play, papa — the Rivals by the famous wliat-'s- 
 his-name — and they want MK to act ! Tiie one 
 thing in tlie whole universe tliat I long to do 
 most. It all depends on you. Mamma shakes 
 her head; and Miss Gartli looks daggers; and 
 Norah 's as snlky as usual — but if you say Yes. 
 they must all three give way and let u;e do as 
 I like. Say yes," she pleaded, nestling softly 
 up to her father, and ])ressing her lips with a 
 ibnd gentleness to his ear, as she whispered the 
 next wwds. " Say Yes, and 1 '11 be a good 
 girl ior the rest of my life." 
 
 '- A good girl V" re[)eated ]\Ir. Yanstone — "A 
 mad girl, I think you nmst mean. Hang these 
 people and their theatricals ! I sliall have to 
 go indoors and see about this matter. You 
 needn't throw away your cigar, Frank. You 
 are well out of the business, and you can stop 
 here." 
 
 " No, he can't," said Magdalen. " He 's in 
 the business too." 
 
 IVTr. Francis Clare ha<l hitherto remained 
 modestly in the back-ground. He now came 
 forward, with a face expressive of speechless 
 amazeuKuit. 
 
 " Yes," continued ]\Iagdalon, answering his 
 blank look of inijuiry witii perfect composure. 
 " You are to act. ]Miss IMarrable and I have 
 a turn for business, and we settled it all in five 
 minutes. There are two parts in the play left 
 to be filled. One is Lucy, the waiting-maid, 
 which is the character 1 h.ive undertaken — 
 with papa's permission," she a'lded, slyly pinch- 
 ing her father's arm; "and he won't say No, 
 will lie y First, because he 's a darling ; sec- 
 ondly, because I love him and he loves me; 
 thirdly, because there is never any difference 
 of opinion between us (is there?); fourthly, 
 iH'cause I give him a kiss, which naturally stops 
 Jiis mouth and settles the whole question. Dear 
 me, I 'm wandering. Where was I just now? 
 Oh yes! explaining myself to Frank — " 
 
 " I beg your panlon," began Frank, attempt- 
 ing at this point to enter Jiis protest. 
 
 " The second character in the play," pursued 
 iVIagdalcn, without taking the smallest notice 
 of the protest, " is Falkland — a jealous lover, 
 with a fine flow of language. Miss Marrable 
 and I discussed Falkland privately on the win- 
 dow-seat while the rest were talking. She is 
 a delightful girl — so impulsive, so sensible, so 
 entirely unaffected. She confided in me. She 
 said, ' One of our miseries is that we can't find 
 a gentleman who will grapple with the hideous 
 difVicnlties of Falkland.' Of course I soothed 
 her. Of course I said, ' I 've got the gentle- 
 man, and he shall grapple immediately.'" ' Oh, 
 Heavens ! who is ho ?' — ' ili-. Francis Clare.' 
 
 ' And where is he ? — 'In the house at this mo- 
 ment.' — ' Will you be so very charming, Miss 
 Vanstone, as to fetch him? ' — ' I '11 fetch him, 
 Miss Marrable, with the greatest jileasure.' I 
 left the window-seat — 1 rushed into the morn- 
 ing-room — I smelt cigars — I followed the smell, 
 and here I am." 
 
 " It 's a compliment, I know, to be asked to 
 act," said Frank, in great embarrassment. 
 " But I hope you and iSIiss Marrable will ex- 
 cuse me — " 
 
 " Certainly not. Miss Marrable and I are 
 both remarkable for the firmness of our charac- 
 ters. When we say Mr. So-and-So is positively 
 to act the part of Falkland, we ]iositively mean 
 it. Come in and be introduced." 
 
 " But I never tried to act. I don't know 
 how." 
 
 " Not of the slightest consequence. If vou 
 don't know how, come to me, and I '11 teach 
 you." 
 
 " You 1" exclaimed ^Ir. A^anstone. " What 
 do you know about it?" 
 
 " Pray, papa, be serious ! T have the strong- 
 est internal conviction that I could act every 
 character in the jilay — Falkland included. 
 Don't let ine have to speak a second time, 
 Frank. Come and be introduced." 
 
 She took her father's arm, and moved with 
 him to the door of the green-liouse. At the 
 steps she turned and looked round to see if 
 Frank was following her. It was only the 
 action of a moment ; but in that moment her 
 natural finnness of will rallied all its re- 
 sources, strengthened itself wilii the influence 
 of her beauty — commanded — and eontjuered. 
 She looked lovely : the flush was tenderly 
 bright in her (hecks ; the radiant pleasure 
 slione and sparkU'd in her eyes ; the position 
 of her figure, turned suddenly from the waist 
 upward, disclosed its delicate strength, its 
 supple firmness, its seductive serpentine grace. 
 " Come !" she said, with a cocpicttish beckon- 
 ing action of her head — " come, Frank I" 
 
 Few men of forty would have resisted her 
 at that moment. Frank was twenty last 
 birthday. In other words, he threw aside 
 his cigar and followed her out of the green- 
 house. 
 
 As he turned and closed the door — in the 
 instant when he lost sight of her — his disin- 
 clination to be associated with the private 
 theatricals revived. At the foot of the house- 
 steps he stopped again ; plucked a twig from 
 a plant near him ; broke it in his hand ; and 
 looked about him uneasily, on this side and on 
 that. The path to the left led back to his 
 father's cottage — the way of escape lay open. 
 Why not take it ? 
 
 Whih' he still hesitated Mr. Yanstone and 
 his daughter reached the top of the steps. 
 Once mon- Mag<lalen looked round ; looked 
 with licr resistless beauty, with her all-con- 
 (piering smile. She beckoned again ; and 
 again he followed her — up the steps and over 
 the threshold, 'i'he door closed on them. 
 
18 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 So, ■w'itli a trifling gesture of invitation on 
 one side, with a trifling act of compliance on 
 the other ; so, with no knowledge in his mind, 
 with no thought in hers, of the secret still hid- 
 den under the journey to London — they took 
 the way which led to that secret's discovery, 
 through many a darker winding that was yet 
 to come. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Mr. Vanstone's inquiries into the proposed 
 theatrical entertainment at Evergreen Lodge 
 were answered by a narrative of dramatic dis- 
 asters, of which Miss Marrable impersonated 
 the innocent cause, and in which her father 
 and mother played the parts of chief victims. 
 
 Miss Marrable was that hardest of all born 
 tyrants — an only child. She had never granted 
 a constitutional privilege to her oppressed 
 father and mother since the time wlien she 
 cut her first tooth. Her seventeenth birthday 
 was now near at hand ; she had decided on 
 celebrating it by acting a play, had issued her 
 orders accordingly, and had been obeyed by 
 her docile parents as implicitly as usual. Mrs. 
 Marrable gave up the drawing-room to be laid 
 waste for a stage and a theatre. Mr. Alarrable 
 secured the services of a respectable profes- 
 sional person to drill the young ladies and 
 gentlemen, and to accept all the other respon- 
 sibilities incidental to creating a dramatic 
 world out of a domestic chaos. Having fur- 
 ther accustomed themselves to the breaking of 
 i'urniture and the staining of walls^to thump- 
 ing, tumbling, hammering, and screaming ; to 
 doors always banging, and to footsteps perpet- 
 ually running up and down stairs— the nom- 
 inal master and mistress of the house fondly 
 believed that their chief troubles were over. 
 Innocent and fatal delusion ! It is one thing, 
 in private society, to set up the stage and 
 choose the play — it is anotlier thing altogether 
 to find the actors. Hitherto only the small pre- 
 liminary annoyances proper to the occasion 
 had shown themselves at Evergreen Lodge. 
 The sound and serious troubles Avere all to 
 come. 
 
 "The llivahs" having been chosen as the 
 play. Miss Marrable, as a matter of course, 
 appropriated to herself the part of " Lydia 
 Languish." One of her favored swains next 
 secured " Captain Absolute," and another laid 
 violent hands on " Sir Lucius O'Trigger." 
 These two were followed by an accommodat- 
 ing spinster-relative, who accepted the heavy 
 dramatic responsibility of " Mrs. Malaprop" — 
 and there the theatrical proceedings came to 
 a pause. Nine more speaking characters were 
 left to be fitted with representatives ; and 
 with that unavoidable necessity the serious 
 troubles began. 
 
 All the friends of the family suddenly be- 
 came unreliable people, for the first time in 
 
 their lives. After encouraging the idea of the 
 play, they declined the personal sacrifice of 
 acting in it^ — -or they accepted characters, and 
 then broke down in the efibrt to study them — 
 or they volunteered to take the parts which 
 they knew were already engaged, and de- 
 clined the parts which were waiting to be 
 acted — or they were afflicted with weak con- 
 stitutions, and mischievously fell ill when they 
 were wanted at rehearsal — or they had Puri- 
 tan relatives in the back-ground, and, after 
 slipping into their parts cheerfully at the 
 week's beginning, oozed out of them peni- 
 tently, under serious family pressure, at the 
 week's end. Meanwhile the carpenters ham- 
 mered and the scene rose. Miss Marrable, 
 whose temperament was sensitive, became 
 hysterical under the strain of perpetual anx- 
 iety ; the family doctor declined to answer for 
 the nervous consequences if something was 
 not done. Renewed efforts were made in 
 every direction. Actors and actresses were 
 sought with a desperate disregard of all con- 
 siderations of personal fitness. Necessity, 
 which knows no law, either in the drama or 
 out of it, accepted a lad of eighteen as the 
 representative of " Sir Antony Absolute," the 
 stage manager undertaking to supply the nec- 
 essary wrinkles from the illimitable resources 
 of theatrical art. A lady wliose age was un- 
 known, and whose jiersonal appearance was 
 stout — but whose heart was in the right 
 place — volunteered to act the part of the 
 sentimental " Julia," and brought with her 
 the dramatic qualification of habitually Avear- 
 ing a wig in private life. Thanks to these 
 vigorous measures, the play was at last sup- 
 plied with representatives — always excepting 
 the two unmanageable characters of " Lucy," 
 the waiting -maid, and "Falkland," Julia's 
 jealous lover. Gentlemen came ; saw Julia 
 at rehearsal ; observed her stoutness and her 
 wig; omitted to notice that her heart was in 
 the right j}lace; quailed at the prospect, 
 apologized, and retired. Ladies read the 
 part of " Lucy ;" remarked that she appeared 
 to great advantage in the first half of the 
 play, and faded out of it altogether in the 
 hitter half; objected to pass from the notice 
 of the audience in that manner, when all the 
 rest had a chance of distinguisJiing them- 
 selves to the end; shut up tiic book, apolo- 
 gized, and retired. In eight days more the 
 night of performance would arrive; a phalanx 
 of social martyrs two hundred strong had 
 been convened to witness it ; three full re- 
 hearsals were absolutely necessary ; and two 
 characters in the play were not filled yet. 
 With this lamentable story, and with the 
 humblest apc^logies for presuming on a slight 
 ac(piaintance, the Marrables appeared at 
 Con\be-Raven to appeal to the young ladies 
 for a " Lucy," and to the universe for a "Falk- 
 land," with the mendicant pertinacity of a 
 family iu despair. 
 
 This statement of cii-cumstances — addressed 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 I 
 
 19 
 
 to an audience wliich included a father of Mr. 
 Vanslone's disposition. <ind a daughter of Mag- 
 dalen's temperament — produced the result 
 which might have been anticipated fi-om the 
 first. 
 
 Either misinterpreting or disregarding the 
 ominous .silence preserved by liis wife and Miss 
 Garth, Mr. Vanstonc not oidy gave Magdalen 
 permission to assist the forlorn dramatic com- 
 pany, but accepted an invitation to witness 
 the performance for Norali and liimself Mrs. 
 A^anstone declined accom])anying them on 
 account of lier liealth; and Miss Garth only 
 engaged to make one among the audience, 
 conditionally on not being wanted at home. 
 The "i)arts" of " Lucv" and "Falkland" 
 
 open in his hand — the most incapable of Falk- 
 lands, and the most ]u'l])less of mankind. 
 
 Frank's departure left the tamily by them- 
 selves, and was the signal, accordingly, for an 
 attack on IMr. Vanstone's inveterate careless- 
 ness in the exercise of his paternal authority. 
 
 " What could you possibly be thinking of, 
 Andrew, when you gave your consent?" said 
 Mrs. Vanstone. " Surely my silence was a 
 suflicient warning to you to say No." 
 
 " A mistake I\Ir. Vanstone," chimed in Misi 
 Garth. " ^lade with the best intentions — but 
 a mistake for all that." 
 
 " It may be a mistake," said Norah, taking 
 her father's part as usual. " But I really don't 
 see how impa, or anv one else, could have de- 
 
 (which the distressed family carried about i clined under the circumstances." 
 
 with them evervwhere. liki> incidental mala- " Quite right, my dcrar," observed Mr. Van- 
 
 dies) were handed to their representatives on 
 the spot. Frank's faint remonstrances were 
 
 stone. " The circumstances, as you say, were 
 dead against me. Here were these unfortu- 
 rejected without a liearing; the days and j nate people in a scrape on one side; and j\Iag- 
 liours of rehearsal were carefully notetl down j dalen, on the other, mad to act. I couldn't say 
 on the covers of the parts; and the INIarrables i I had methodistical ol)jections — I 've nothing 
 took their leave, with a perfect explosion V)f I methodistical about me. What other excuse 
 thanks — father, mother, and daughter sowing j could I make ? The ]\Iarrables are respectable 
 
 their expressions of gratitude broadcast, from 
 the drawing-room door to the garden gates. 
 
 As soon as the carriage had driven away, 
 Magdalen presented herself to the general ob- 
 servation under an entirely new aspect. 
 
 "If any more visitors call to-day," she said, 
 with the proibundest gravity of look and man- 
 ner, " I am not at home. This is a far more 
 serious matter than any of you suppose. Go 
 somewhere by yourself, Frank, and read over 
 your part, and don't let your attention wander 
 if you can jiossibly help it. I shall not be ac- 
 cessible before the evening. If you will come 
 here — with papa's permission — after tea, my 
 views on the subject of Falkland will be at 
 }our disposal. Thomas I whatever else the 
 ganU-ner does, he is not to make any lioricul- 
 tural noises unfh'r my window. For the rest 
 of the afternoon I shall be immersed in study, 
 and the (juieter the house is, the more obliged 
 I shall feel to everybody." 
 
 Before Miss Garth's battery of reproof could 
 open fire, before the first outiiui-st of Mr. Van- 
 stone's hearty laughter could escape his lips, 
 she Ijowed to thtm with imperturbable gravity; 
 ascenrk'd the house-steps for the first time in 
 her lif(^ at a walk instead of a run, and re- 
 tired then and there to the bedroom regions. 
 Frank's helpless astonishment at her disai)pear- 
 ance addec] a new clement of absurdity to the 
 scene. He stood first on one leg and then on 
 the other; rolling and uin'olling his part, and 
 looking piteously in the faces of the friends 
 about him. " I know I can't do it," he said. 
 " May I ( ome in after tea and hear Magdalen's 
 views ? Thank you — I '11 look in about eicht. 
 Don't tell my father about this a<-ting, please : 
 I should never hear the last of it." Those 
 wprc the only words he had spirit enough to 
 utter. He drifted away aimlessly in the direc- 
 tion of the shrubbery, with the jmrt hanging 
 
 people, and keep the best company in Clifton. 
 What harm can she get in their house ? If 
 you come to prudence and that sort of thing — 
 why shouldn't ISIagdalen do what Miss ]\Iarra- 
 ble does ? There! there! let the poor things 
 act, and amuse themselves. We were tlieir 
 age once — and it "s no use making a fuss — and 
 that 's all I 've got to say about it !" 
 
 With that characteristic defense of hi.s own 
 conduct Mr. Vanstone sauntered back to the 
 green-house to smoke another cigar. 
 
 " I didn't say so to papa," said Norah, taking 
 her mother's arm on the way back to the house; 
 " but the bad result of the acting, in my opin- 
 ion, Avill be the familiarity it is sure to encour- 
 age between Magdalen and Francis Clare." 
 
 "You are prejudiced against Frank, my 
 love," said ]\Irs. Vanstone. 
 
 Norah's soft, secret, hazel eyes sank to the 
 ground : she said no more. Her opinions were 
 unchangeable — but she never disputed with 
 anybody. She had the great fiiiling of a re- 
 served "nature — the fiiiling of obstinacy; and 
 the great merit — the merit of silence. " What 
 is your head running on now?" thought Miss 
 Garth, casting a sharp look at Norah's dark, 
 downcast face. " You 're one of the impcnr- 
 trablc, sort. Give me ]\Iagdalen, with all her 
 perversities ; I can see daylight through her. 
 You 're as dark as night." 
 
 The hours of the afternoon pa.sscd away, and 
 still jMagdalen remained shut up in her own 
 room. No restless font>te])s pattered on the 
 stairs; no nimble tongue was heard chattering 
 here tlu^re, and everywhere, from the gairet 
 to the kitchen — the house seemed hardly like 
 itself, with the one ever-disturbing element in 
 the family serenitv suddenly withdra^'u from 
 it. Anxious to witness with her own eyes the 
 reality of a transformation in which past expe- 
 rience still inclined her to disbelieve, RiIbs 
 
20 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Garth ascended to Magdalen's room, knocked 
 twice at the door, received no answer, opened 
 it, and looked in. 
 
 There sat Magdalen, in an arm-chair before 
 the long looking-glass, with all her hair let 
 down over her shonlders, absorbed in the study 
 of her part, and comfortably arrayed in her 
 morning-wrapper, until it was time to dress for 
 dinner. And- there behind her sat tlie lady's- 
 maid, slowly combing out the long, heavy locks 
 of her young mistress's hair, with the sleepy 
 resignation of a woman who had been engaged 
 in that employment lor some hours past." The 
 sun was shining, and the green sliuttcrs out- 
 side the window were closed. The dim light 
 iell tenderly on the two (juiet seated figures ; 
 on the little white bed, v/ith the knots of rose- 
 colored ribbon which looped up its curtains, 
 and the bright dress for dinner Ir.id ready 
 across it; on the gayiy painted batli, with it's 
 pure lining of white enamel; on the toilet-table 
 with its sparkling trinkets, its crystal bottles, 
 its silver bell with Cupid for a handle, its litter 
 of little luxuries that adorn tlie shrine of a 
 woman's bedchamber. The luxurious tran- 
 quillity of tlie scene; the cool fragrance of 
 flowers and perfumes in the atmosj)here ; the 
 rapt attitude of Magdalen, absorbed over her 
 reading ; the monotonous regularity of move- 
 ment in the maid's hand and arm, as she drew 
 the comb smoothly through and through her 
 mistress's hair — all conveyed the same" sooth- 
 ing impression of drowsy, delicious ([uiet. On 
 one side of the door were the broad daylight 
 and the familiar realities of life. On the other 
 Avas the dream-land of Elysian serenity, the 
 sanctuary of unruffled repose. 
 
 Miss Garth paused on the threshold, and 
 looked into the room in silence. 
 
 Magdalen's curious fancy for havinrr her hair 
 combed at all times and seasons was amonnf the 
 peculiarities of lier character which were noto- 
 rious to everybody in the house. It was one 
 oi" her father's favorite jokes, that she re- 
 minded him, on such occasions, of a cat havin<i- 
 her back stroked, and that he always expected, 
 if the combing were only continued lon<j;- 
 enough, to hear her pur. Extravagant as it 
 may seem, the comparison was not altogether 
 inappropriate. The girl's fervid temj)erament 
 intensified the essentially feminine pleasure 
 that most women feel in the j)assage of the 
 comb through their hair to a luxury of sensa- 
 tion which absorbed her in enjoyment, so 
 serenely self-demonstrative, so drowsily deep, 
 that it did irresistibly suggest a pet cat's .enjoy- 
 ment under a caressing hand. Intimately as 
 Miss Garth was acquainted with this peculiar- 
 ity in her pupil, she now saw it asserting itself 
 ibr the first time in association v/ith mental 
 exertion of any kind on Magdalen's part. 
 Feeling, therefore, some curiosity to know how 
 long the combing and the studyinc: had gone on 
 together, she ventured on putting the question, 
 first to the mistress, and (receivinn^ no answer 
 in that quarter), secondly, to the maid. 
 
 " All the afternoon, Miss, off and on," was 
 the weary answer. " Miss Magdalen saj's it 
 soothes her feelings, and clears her mind." 
 
 Knowing hy experience that Interference 
 would be hopeless under these circumstances, 
 Miss Garth turned sharply and left tlie room. 
 She smiled when she was outside on the land- 
 ing. Tiie female mind does occasionally, 
 though not often, project itself into the future. 
 Miss Garth was prophetically pitying Magda- 
 len's unfortunate husband. 
 
 Dinner-time presented the fair student to 
 the family eye in the same mentally absorbed 
 aspect. On all ordinary occasions Magdalen's 
 apj)etite would have terrified those feeble sen- 
 timentalists who afi'ect to ignore the all-impor- 
 tant influence which female feeding exerts in 
 the production of female beauty. On this occa- 
 sion she refused one dish after another with a 
 resolution which implied the rarest of all mod- 
 ern martyrdoms— gastric martyrdom. " I have 
 conceived the part of Lucy," she observed, 
 with the demurest gravity. " The next diffi- 
 culty is to make Frank conceive the part of 
 Falkland. I see nothing to laugh at — you 
 would all be serious enough if you had my 
 responsibilities. No, papa — no wine to-day, 
 thank you. I must keep ray intelligence clear. 
 Water, Thomas — and a little more jelly, I 
 think, before you take it away." 
 
 When Frank presented himself in the even- 
 ing, ignorant of the first elements of his part, 
 she took him in hand, as a middle-aged school- 
 mistress might have taken in hand a backward 
 little boy. The few attempts he made to vary 
 the sternly practical nature of the evening's 
 occupation by slipping in compliments sidelong 
 she ])ut away from her with the contemptuous 
 self-possession of a woman of twice her age. 
 She literally forced him into his part. Her 
 father fell asleep in his chair. Mrs. Vanstone 
 and Miss Garth lost their interest in the pro- 
 ceedings, retired to the farther end of the room, 
 and spoke logether in whispers. It grew later 
 and later: and still Magdalen never flinched 
 from her task — still, with equal ])erseverance, 
 Norah, who had been on the watch all through 
 the evening, kept on the watch to the end. 
 The distrust darkened and darkened on her 
 face as slie looked at her sister and Frank ; as 
 she saw how close thej^ sat together, devoted 
 to the same interest and working to the same 
 end. The clock on the mantle-piece pointed 
 to half-past eleven before Lucy the resolute 
 ]iermitted Falkland the helpless to sliut up his 
 task-book for the night. " She 's wonderfully 
 clever isn't she?" said Frank, taking leave of 
 Mr. Vanstone at the hall door. " I am to eonie 
 to-morrow and hear more of her views — if you 
 have no objection. I shall never do it; don't 
 tell her I said so. As fast as she teaches me 
 one speech, the otlier goes out of my head. 
 Discouraging, isn't it ? Good-night." 
 
 The next day but one was the day of the 
 first full rehearsal. On the previous evening 
 Mrs. Vanstone's spirits had been sadly de- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 21 i 
 
 pressed. At a private intervioAv with Miss 
 Garth she had referred asrain, of lier own 
 accord, to tlie subject of Iier letter from Lon- 
 don — had spoken self-reproachfully of her 
 weakness in admittinp: Captain Wraoce's im- 
 pudent chaim to a family connection with her — 
 and had then reverted to the state of her 
 health, and to the doubtful prospect that 
 awaited hei' in the coming summer, in a tone 
 of despondency which it was very distressinij 
 to hear. Anxious to cheer her spirits, ]\Tiss 
 Gartli^haA clianijed the conversation as soon 
 .IS possible — had referred to the approach- 
 ing tlicatrical performance — and had relieved 
 Mrs. Vanstone's mind of all anxiety in that 
 direction, by announcing her intention of ac- 
 companying Magdalen to each roliearsal, and 
 of not losing sight of her until she was safely 
 back again in her father's house. According- 
 ly, when Frank presented himself at Coml)e- 
 Raven on the eventful morning, there stood 
 IVIiss Garth prepared — in the interpolated 
 character of Argus — to accompany Lucy and 
 Falkland to the scene of trial. The railway 
 conveyed the three, in excellent time, to 
 Evergreen Lodge ; and at one o'clock the 
 rehearsal bcfran. 
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 " T hope l\Iiss Vanstone knows her ]->art ?" 
 whispered Mrs. ^Marrable, anxiously address- 
 ing herself to IMiss Garth in a corner of the 
 theatre. 
 
 " If airs and graces make an actress, ma'am. 
 Magdalen's jierfbrmance will astonish ns all." 
 With that reply iSIiss Garth took out her work 
 and seated herself, on guard, in the centre of 
 the pit. 
 
 The manager perched himself, book in hand, 
 on a stool close in front of the stage. He Avas 
 an active little man, of a sweet and cheerful 
 lem])er : and he gave the signal to begin with 
 ns patient an interest in the proceedings as if 
 they had caused him no trouble in the past, 
 and ])romised him no dilliculty in the future. 
 The two characters wliicli open the comedy 
 of The Rivals, " F.ag" and the " Coachman," 
 appc-arcd on the scene — looked many sizes 
 too tall for their canvas back-ground, whicli 
 represented a "Street in IJath" — exhibited 
 the customary inability to manage their own 
 arms, legs, and voices — went out severally at 
 the wrong exits — and expressed their perfect 
 apjiroval of i-esnlt, so far, by laughing heartily 
 beiiind the scenes. *• Silence, genth-nien, if 
 you please," remonstrated the cheerful mana- 
 ger. " As loud as you like on the stage, but 
 the audience mustn't hear you ojr it. Miss 
 Marrablc ready V Miss Vanstone ready ? Easy 
 there with the ' Street in Bath;' it 's going 
 up crooked ! Face this way, Miss Marrable ; 
 . full face, if you please. Miss Vanstone — " 
 He checked himstdf .suddenly. " Curious," 
 he said, under his breath — "she fronts the 
 
 audience of her own accord !" Lucy opened 
 the scene in these words: "Indeed, ma'am, T 
 traversed half the town in search of it: I 
 don't believe there 's a circulating library in 
 Bath I haven't been .at. The manager started 
 in his chair. " My heart alive ! she speaks 
 out without telling!" The dialogue went on. 
 Lucy produced the novels for Miss Lydia Lan- 
 guish's private reading from under her cloak. 
 The manager rose excitably to his feet. Mar- 
 vellous I No hurry with the books ; no drop- 
 ])ing them. She looked at the titles before 
 she announced them to her mistress ; she set 
 down " IIum])hrey Clinker" on "The Tears 
 of Sensibility " with a smart little smack which 
 pointed the antithesis. One moment — and 
 she announced Julia's visit ; another — and she 
 dropped the brisk waiting-maid's curtesy; a 
 third — and she Avas off the stage instantly, on 
 the side set dowr, for her in the book. The 
 manager wheeled round in his chair, and 
 looked hard at IMiss (larth. " I beg youi- par- 
 don, ma'am," he said. "Miss Marrable told 
 me, before we began, that tliis was the young 
 lady's first attempt. It can't be, surely 'f" 
 
 "It is," replied ]\Iiss Garth, reflecting the 
 manager's look of amazement in her own face. 
 AY as it possible that Magdalen's unintelligible 
 industry in the stiidy of her part really sprang 
 from a serious interest in her occupation — an 
 interest which implied a natural fitness for it? 
 
 The rehearsal went on. The stout lady 
 Avith the wig (and the excellent heart) per- 
 sonated the sentimental Julia from an invet- 
 erately tragic; point of vieAv, and used her 
 handkerchief distractedly in the first scene. 
 The spinster-relative felt Mrs. Malajjrop's mis- 
 takes in. language so seriously, and took such 
 extraordinary pains with her blunders, that 
 thev sounded more like exercises in elocution 
 than anything else. The unhappy lad Avho 
 led the forlorn hope of the company, in the 
 person of " Sir Antony Absolute," expressed 
 the ago and irnscibilit'y of his character by 
 tottering incessantly at the knees, and thump- 
 ing the Ttaixe ])t'rpetually with his stick. Slowly 
 and cjnmsilv, with constant interruptions and 
 interniinal)le mistakes, the first a.-t dragged 
 on. until Lucy a{)peare(l again to end it in 
 soliloipiv. Avith the confession of her assumed 
 simplicitv and the ])raise of her own cunning. 
 
 Here the stage artifice of the situation pre- 
 .«entcd diflicullics Avhich Magdalen had not 
 encountered in the first scyne ; and here her 
 total Avant of experience led her into more 
 than one pal])able mist.ake. The stage-nian- 
 a^er, Avitli an eagerness which he had not 
 shown ni the case of any other member of the 
 companv, interfered immediately, and set her 
 riTht. At one point she was to pause, and 
 take a turn on the stage — she did it. At 
 another she was to stop, toss her head, and 
 look ])ertiy at the audience — she did it. — 
 When she to'bk out the paper to read the list 
 of the presents she had received, could she 
 give it a tap with the finger (Yes) '.'' And 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 lead off with a little laugh (Yes — aiter twice 
 trying) ? Could slie read the different items 
 with a sly look at the end of each sentence, 
 straight at the pit (Yes, straight at the pit, 
 and as sly as you please) ? The manager's 
 cheerful face beamed witli approval. " He 
 tucked the play under his arm, and clapped 
 his hands gayly; the gentlemen, clustered 
 together behind the scenes, followed Iiis ex- 
 ample ; the ladies looked at eacli other witli 
 dawning doubts Avhether they had not better 
 have left the new recruit in the retirement of 
 private life. Too deeply alisorbcd in the Inisi- 
 ue.ss of the stage to heed any of tl-.cm, Mag- 
 dalen asked leave to repeat the solildiuy, and 
 make quite sure of her own improvement. 
 She went all through it auain, without a mis- 
 take this time, irom beginning to end ; the 
 manager celebrating her attention to liis direc- 
 tions by an outburst of professional approba- 
 tion, which escaped him in sjiite of himself. 
 " She can take a hint!" cried the little man, 
 with a hearty smack of his hand on the prompt- 
 book. " She 's a born actress, if ever there 
 was one yet !" 
 
 *'Ihope not," said IMiss Garth to herself, 
 taking up the work which had dropped into 
 her lap, and looking down at it in some per- 
 plexity. Her worst apprehensions of results 
 in connection with tlie theatrical enterprise 
 had foreboded levity of conduct with some of 
 the gentlemen — she had not bargained for 
 this. ]\Iagdalen, in the capacity of a thought- 
 less girl, was comparatively easy to deal with. 
 Magdalea, in the character of a born actress, 
 threatened serious future difficulties. 
 
 The rehearsal pi-oceeded. Lucy returned 
 to the stage for her scenes in the second act 
 (the last in which she appeal's) with Sir Lu- 
 eius and Fag. Here, again, Magdalim's inex- 
 perience betrayed itself; and iiere once more 
 her resolution, in attacking and concjuer- 
 ing her own mistakes, astonished everybody. 
 " Bravo !" cried the gentlemen behind the 
 scenes, as she steadily trampled down one 
 blunder after another. " Ridiculous !" said the 
 ladies, " with such a small part as hers." 
 "Heaven forgive me!" thought Miss Garth, 
 coming round unwillingly to the general opin- 
 ion. " I almost v/ish we were Papists, and 
 had a convent to put her in to-morrow." One 
 of Mr. Marrable's servants entered the theatre 
 as that desperate aspiration escaped the gov- 
 erness. She instantly sent the man beliind 
 the scenes with a message: "Miss Vanstone 
 has done her part in the rehearsal : request 
 her to come here and sit by me." The ser- 
 vant returned Avith a polite apology : " Miss 
 Vanstone's kind love, and she begs to be 
 excused — she is prompting Mr. Clare." She 
 prompted him to such purpose that he actually 
 got through his part. The performances of 
 the other gentlemen were obtrusively imbe- 
 cile. Frank was just one degrw<^, better — he 
 ■was modestly incapable ; and he gained by 
 comparison. " Thanks to Miss Vanstone," 
 
 observed the manager, who had heard the 
 prompting. " She pulled him through. We 
 shall be flat enough at night, when the drop 
 fiiUs on the second act, and the audience have 
 seen the last of her. It 's a thousand pities 
 she hasn't got a better part. 
 
 " It 's a thousand mercies she 's no more 
 to do than she has," muttered Miss Garth, 
 overhearing him. " As things are, the peo- 
 ple can't well turn her head with applause. 
 She 's out of the play in the second act — 
 that 's one comfort !" 
 
 No well-regulated mind ever draws its in- 
 ferences in a hurrj-; Miss Garth's mind was 
 well regulated ; therefore, logicality speaking. 
 Miss Garth ought to have been superior to the 
 weakness of rushing at conclusions. She had 
 committed that error, nevertheless, under 
 present circumstances. In plainer terms, the 
 consoling reflection which had just occurred 
 to her assumed that tlie play had by this time 
 survived all its disasters, and entered on its 
 long-deferred career of success. The play 
 had done nothing of the sort. Misfortune 
 and the Man-able family had not parted com- 
 pany yet. 
 
 When the rehearsal was over, nobody ob- 
 served that the stout lady with the wig pri- 
 vately withdrew herself from the company ; 
 and Avhen she was afterward missed fi'om the 
 table of refreshments, which Mr. Marrable's 
 hospitality kept ready spread in a room near 
 the theatre, nobody imagined that there was 
 any serious reason for her absence. It was 
 not till the ladies and gentlemen assembled 
 for the next rehearsal that the true state of 
 the case was impressed on the minds of the 
 company. At the appointed hour no Julia 
 appeared. In her stead ]Mrs. Marrable por- 
 tentously approached the stage with an open 
 letter in her hand. She was naturally a lady 
 of the mildest good-breeding ; she v/as mis- 
 tress of every bland conventionality in the 
 English language ; but disasters and dramatic 
 Influences combined threw even this harmless 
 matron off her balance at last. For the first 
 time In her life Mrs. Marrable Indulged in 
 vehement gesture and used sti-ong language. 
 She handed the letter sternly, at arm's-length, 
 to her daughter. " My dear," she said, with 
 an aspect of awful composure, " we are under 
 a Curse." Before the amazed dramatic com- 
 pany could petition for an explanation she 
 turned and left the room. The manager's 
 professional eye followed her out respectfully — ■ 
 he looked as if he apj)roved of the exit, from 
 a theatrical point of view. 
 
 What new misfortune had befallen the 
 play ? The last and worst of all mislbrtunes 
 had assailed it. The stout lady had resigned 
 her part. 
 
 Not maliciously. Her heart, which had 
 been in the right place throughout, remained 
 Inflexibly in the right place still. Her expla- 
 nation of the circumstances proved this, if 
 nothinn; else did. The letter bef];an with a 
 
Mr ■ y 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 23 
 
 Jterrient: She had overheard at the last 
 Ifehearsal (quite unintentionally) personal re- 
 jarks of whieh she was the subject. They 
 might, or might not, have had reference to 
 her — Hair, and hei* — Figure. She would not 
 distress ^Mrs. Marrable by repeating them. 
 Neither would she mention names, because it 
 was foreign to her nature to make bad worse. 
 The only course at all consistent with her own 
 self-respect was to resign her part. She in- 
 closed it accordingly to Mrs. Marrable, with 
 many apologies for her presumption in under- 
 taking a youthfid character at — what a gen- 
 tleman wa^s ijleased to term — her Age ; and 
 with what two ladies were rude enough to 
 characterize as her disadvantages of — Hair, 
 and — Figure. A younger and more attractive 
 representative of Julia would no doubt be 
 easily found. In the meantime all persons 
 concerned had her full forgiveness ; to whit'h 
 she would only beg leave to add her best and 
 kindest wishes for the success of tlie play. 
 
 In four nights more the play was to be .per- 
 formed. If ever any human enterprise stood 
 in need of good wishes to help it, that enter- 
 prise was uncpiestionably the tlicatrical enter- 
 tainment at Evergreen Lodge ! 
 
 One arm-chair was allowed on the stage ; 
 and into that arm-chair Miss Marrable sank, 
 preparatory to a fit of hysterics. Magdalen 
 stepped forward at the first convulsion, 
 snatched the letter from Miss ]Marrable's 
 hand, and stopj)ed the threatened catastrophe. 
 
 ■' She 's an ugly, bald-headed, malicious, 
 middle-aged wretcli," said Magdalen, tearing 
 the letter into fragments, and tossing them 
 over the heads of the company. " But I can 
 tell her one thing — she shan't spoil the play. 
 I '11 act JuHa." 
 
 " Bravo !" cried the chorus of gentlemen — 
 the anonymous gentleman who'had helped to I very last. 
 
 ing the short dialogue about the novels into 
 a soliloquy for j^ydia Languish, appeared to 
 be the onl}- changes of importance necessarv 
 to the accomplishment of Magdalen's project. 
 Lucy's two telling scenes at the end of the 
 first and second acts were sufficiently removed 
 from the scenes in which Julia appeared to 
 give time for the necessary transformations in 
 dress. Even Miss (iarth, though she tried 
 hard to find them, could put no fresh obstacles 
 in the way. The question was settled in five 
 minutes, ami the rehearsal Avent on ; ^lagda- 
 len learning .lulia's stage situations with the 
 book in her hand, and announcing afterward, 
 on the journey home, that she proposed sit- 
 ting uji all night to study the new part. 
 Frank thereupon expressed his fears that slie 
 Avould have no time to help him through his 
 theatrical difficulties. She tapped him on the 
 shoulder cociuettishly with her part. " You 
 foolish fi'llow, how am I to do without you V 
 You 're Julia's jealous lover; you 're always 
 making Julia cry. Come to-niglit, and make 
 me cry at tea-time. You haTcn't got a ven- 
 omous old woman in a wig to act with now. 
 It 's in;i heart you 're to break — and of course 
 I shall teach you how to do it." 
 
 Th(> four days' interval passt'd busily in per- 
 petual rehearsals, public and private. The 
 night of pertbrmance arrived; tlir guests as- 
 sembled ; the great dramatic expcrinu'ut stood 
 on its trial. ]\lagdalen had made the most of 
 her opportunities; she had learned all tliat the 
 manager could teach her in the time. Miss 
 (iarth left her when the overture began, sit- 
 ting apart in a corner l)eliind the scenes, 
 serious and silent, with her smelling-bottle in 
 one hand and her book in the other, resolutely 
 tralninjj herself for the coming ordeal to the 
 
 do the mis( liief (otherwise Mr. Francis Clare) 
 loudest of all. 
 
 "If you want the truth, I don't shrink from 
 owning it," continued ]\I 
 of the ladies she means. 
 
 The i)lay began, with all the proper ac- 
 companiments of a theatrical performance in 
 private life — with a crowded audience, an 
 dalen. " I 'm one . African temperature, a bursting of heated 
 I said she had a lamp-glasses, and a ditliculty in drawing up 
 
 head like a mop and a waist like a bolster, the curtain. "Fag" and the " Coachman. 
 So she has." who opened the scene, took leave of their 
 
 " I am the other lady," added the s])inster- memories as soon as they stepped on the 
 relative. " But / only .said she was too stout \ stage; left half their dialogue unspoken ; came 
 for the part." to a dead jiaus<' ; were audibly entreated by 
 
 "I am the gentleman," chimed in Frank, [ the invisible manager to " come off ;" and wont 
 stimulated by the force of example. " I said ; off accordingly, in every- respe<;t sadder and 
 nothing — I only agreed with the ladies." wiser men tJian when they went on. The 
 
 Here Miss (iarth seized her opportunity, next scene disclosed Miss Marrable as " Lydia 
 and addressed the stage loudly from the pit. Languish," gia<efuily seated, very pretty, 
 
 "Stop! stop!" she said. " You cin't .settle beautifully dressed, accurately mistress of the 
 the difhculty in that way. If Magdalen plays I smallest words in her part; possessed, in short, 
 Julia, who is to play Lucy?" of every personal resource — except her voice. 
 
 Miss Marrable sank back in the arm-chair, The ladies admired, the gentlemen applauded, 
 and gave way to the second convulsion. | Nobody lieanl anything but the words " Speak 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense !" cried Magdalen, i up, Miss," whispered bv the same voice which 
 "the thing 's simple enough. I '11 act Julia I had already entreated rag and the Coachman 
 and r^ucy both together." to " come off." A responsive titter rose among 
 
 The maiiajcr was consulted on the spot, the younger spectators, checked immediately 
 Suppres.sing Lucy's first entrance, and turn- by magnanimous applause. The temperature 
 
24 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 of the audience was rising to Blood Heat ; 
 but the national sense of fair play was not 
 boiled out of them yet. 
 
 In the midst of the demonstration Magdalen 
 quietly made her first entrance, as " Julia." 
 She was dressed very plainly in dark colors, 
 and wore her own hair ; all stage adjuncts 
 and alterations (excepting the slightest possi- 
 ble touch of rouge on her cheeks) having 
 been kept in reserve, to disguise her the more 
 effectually in her secom! part. The grace 
 and simplicity of her costume, the steady self- 
 possession with which siie looked out over 
 the eager rows of laces before her. raised a 
 low hum of approval and expectation. She 
 spoke — after suppressing a momentary tre- 
 mor — with a quiet distinctness of utterance 
 which reached all ears, and which at once 
 confirmed the favorable impression that her 
 apjiearance had produced.. The one member 
 of the audience who looked at her and lis- 
 tened to her coldly was her elder sister. Be- 
 fore the actress of the evening had been five 
 minutes on the stage, Norah detected, to her 
 own indescribable astonishment, that Magda- 
 len had audaciously individualized the feeble 
 amiability of " Julia's " character by seizing 
 no less a person than herself as tlie model to 
 act it by. She saw all Iier own little ibnnal 
 peculiarities of manner and movement un- 
 biushingly I'cproduced — and even the very 
 tone of l)er voice so a;'curately mimicked from 
 time to time that the accents startled her as 
 if she was speaking herself, with an echo on 
 the stage. The effect of this cool appropria- 
 tion of Norah's identity to theatrical i)urposes 
 on the audience — who only saw results — 
 asserted itself in a storm of applause on Mag- 
 dalen's exit. She liad won two incontestable 
 triumphs in her first scene. By a dexterous 
 piece of mimicry she had made a living reality 
 of one of the most insipid characters in the 
 English drama, and she had i-oused to enthu- 
 siasm an audience of two hundred exiles from 
 the blessings of ventilation, all sinunering to- 
 gether in their own animal heat. Under the 
 circumstances, where is the actress by profes- 
 sion who could have done much more '^ 
 
 But the event of the evening was still to 
 come. Magdalen's disguised reappearance at 
 the end of the act, in the cliaracter of " Lucy" 
 — witli false hair and I'alse eyebrows, with 
 a bright-red complexion and patches on her 
 cheeks, with the gayest colors Haunting in 
 her dress, and the shrillest vivacity of voice 
 and manner — fairly staggered the audience. 
 They looked down at their programmes, in 
 which, the representative of Lucy figured un- 
 der an assumed name ; looked up again at the 
 stage; penetrated the disguise; and vented 
 their astonishment in another round of ap- 
 plause, louder and heartier even than the last. 
 Norah herself could not denj^ this time that 
 the tribute of ajiprobation had been v/ell de- 
 served. There, forcing its way steadily tlu'ough 
 all the faults of inexperience — there, plainly 
 
 visible to the dullest of the spectators, was the 
 rare faculty of dramatic impersonation, ex- 
 pressing itself, in every look and action of this 
 girl of eighteen, who now stood on a stage for 
 the first time in her life. Failing in many 
 minor requisites of the double task which she 
 had undertaken, she succeeded in the one 
 important necessity of keeping the main dis- 
 tinctions of the two characters thoroughly 
 apart. Everybody felt that the difficulty lay 
 here — everybody saw the difficulty conquer- 
 ed — everybody echoed the manager's enthu- 
 siasm at rehearsal, which had hailed her as a 
 born actress. 
 
 When the drop-scene descended for the first 
 time Magdalen had concentrated in herself 
 the Avhole interest and attraction of the play. 
 The audience politely applauded ]\Iiss Marra- 
 ble, as became the guests assembled in her 
 father's house, and good-himioredly encoui'- 
 aged the remainder of the company to help 
 them througli a task for which they were ail, 
 more oi- less, palj)ably unfit. But as the play 
 proceeded nothing roused them to any genu- 
 ine expression of interest when Magdalen was 
 abocnt from the scene. There was no dis- 
 guising it: Miss Marrable and her bosom 
 friends had been all hopelessly cast in the 
 shade by the new recruit whom they had sum- 
 moned to assist them in the capacity of for- 
 lorn hope. And this on Miss Marrable's own 
 birthday ! and this in her father's house ! and 
 this after the unutterable sacrifices of six weeks 
 past ! Of all the domestic disasters Avhich the 
 thankless theatrical enterprise had infiicted 
 on the Marrable family, the crowning mis- 
 fortune was now consummated by Magdalen's 
 success. 
 
 Leaving Mr." Vanstone and Norah, on the 
 conclusion of the play, among the guests in 
 the supper-rot)m, Miss Garth went behind the 
 scenes : ostensibly anxious to see if she could 
 be of any use ; really bent on ascertaining 
 whether Magdalen's head had been turned by 
 the triumphs of the evening. It would not have 
 sur2)rised Miss Garth if she had discovered 
 her pupil in the act of making terms wit;h the 
 manager for her forthcoming aj)pearance in a 
 public theatre. As events really turned out 
 she found Magdalen on the stage, receiving 
 with gracious smiles a card which the man- 
 ager presented to her with a professional bow. 
 Noticing Miss Garth's mute look of inquiry, 
 the civil little man hastened to explain that 
 the card was his own, and that he was merely 
 asking the favor of Miss Vanstone's recom- 
 mendation at any future opportunity. 
 
 " This is not the last time the young lady 
 will be concerned in private theatricals, I '11 
 answer for it," said the manager. " And if a 
 superintendent Is wanted on the next occa- 
 sion, she has kindly promised to say a good 
 word for me. I am always to be heai*d of, 
 Miss, at that address." Saying those words, 
 he bowed again, and discreetly disappeared. 
 
 Vague suspicions beset the mind of Mis8 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 25 
 
 Garth, and nrijcd her to insist on looking at 
 •the card. No more harmless morsel of paste- 
 board wns ever passed from one hand to 
 another. The card contained nothing but the 
 manager's name, and -under it the name and 
 address of a theatrical agent in London. 
 
 '* It is not worth the trouble of keeping," 
 said Miss Gartli. 
 
 jAIagdaleti caught her hand before she could 
 throw the, card away, possessed herself of it 
 tile next instant, and ])ut it in her pocket. 
 
 " T ])roinised to reconunend him," she said ; 
 '' and that 's one reason for keeping his card. 
 If it does nothing else, it Avill remind me of the 
 hapjiiest evening of my life — and that 's anoth- 
 er, ("ome !" she cried, throwing her arms 
 I'ound Miss (iarth with a feverish gayety — 
 •'congratulate me on my success!" 
 
 " I will congratulate yon when yon have got 
 over it," said IMiss Garth. 
 
 In half an hour more Alagdalen had changed 
 her dress, had joined the guests, and had .soareil 
 into an atmosphere of congratulation high 
 above the reach of any controlling influence 
 that I\Iiss (iarth could exercise. Frank, dila- 
 tory in all his pioceedings, was the last of the 
 dramatic company who left the precincts of 
 the stage. He made no attempt to join IMag- 
 dalen in the supper-room ; but he was ready 
 in the hall, with lier cloak, when the carriages 
 were callcil and tlie party broke up. 
 
 " Oh, Frank !" she said, looking round at 
 him as lie ]m\ the cloak on her shoulders, " I 
 am .so sorry it 's all over ! Come; to-morrow 
 morning, and let 's t;i!k about it by ourselves." 
 
 " In the shrubbery at ten (""asked Frank, in 
 a whisper. 
 
 She drew up the hood of her cloak and nod- 
 ded to him gayly. Miss Garth, standing near. 
 noticed the looks that passed between them, 
 though the disturbance made by the jiarting 
 guests prevented her from hearing the words. 
 There was a soft, underlying tenderness in 
 Magdalen's assumed gayety of manner — there 
 ■was a sudden thoughtfulness in her face, a 
 confidential readinessin her hand, as she took 
 Frank's arm and went out to tlie carriage. 
 What did it me;in V Had her passing interest 
 in him as her stage-pupil treacherously sown 
 th<' seeds of any deeper interest in him as a 
 man V IIa<l the idle theatrical scheme, now 
 that it was all over, gravei- result.s to answer 
 for than a mischievous %vaste of time V 
 
 The lines on Miss (iarth's i'mo. deepened and 
 hardened; she stood lost among the (luttering 
 crowd around her. Norah's warning words, 
 addressed to Mrs. Vansfone in the garden, re- 
 curred to her memory; and now for the first 
 time the idea dawned on her that Norah had 
 seen consequences in their true light. 
 
 CIIAPTKR VII. 
 
 Early the next morning Miss Garth and 
 Norah met in the garden, and spoke together 
 
 4, 
 
 privately. The only noticeable result of the 
 interview, when they presented them.selves at 
 the breakftist-table, apjxsvred in the marked 
 I silence which they both maintained on the 
 topic of the theatrical ]>erformance. Mrs. 
 Vanstone was entirely indebted to her husband 
 and to her younger "daughter for all that she 
 heard of the evening's "entertainment. The 
 governess and the elder daughter had evident- 
 ly determined on letting the subject drop. 
 
 After breakfast was over, Magdalen proved 
 to be missing when the ladies assembled as 
 usual in the morning-room. Her habits were 
 so little regular that Mrs. Vanstone felt nei- 
 ther snr])rise nor uneasiness at her absence. 
 ]\Iiss Garth and Norah looked at one another 
 significantly, and waited in silence. Two 
 hours passed, and there were no sign.s of Maor- 
 dalen. Norah rose as the clock struck twelve, 
 and (piietly l(>ft the room to look for her. 
 
 She was not up stairs, dusting her jewelry 
 and disarranging her dresses. She was not in 
 the conservatory, not in the flower-garden; 
 not in the kitchen, teasing the cook ; not in 
 the yard, playing with the dogs. Had .she by 
 any chance gone, out with her father ? Mr. 
 Vanstone had announced his intention, at the 
 breakfast-table, of ]iaying a morning visit to 
 his ohl ally, i\Ir. C'lare, and of rousing the 
 philosopher's sarcastic indignation by an ac- 
 count of the dramatic performance. None of 
 the other ladies at Combe-llaven ever ven- 
 tured themselves inside the cottage. But 
 Magdalen was reckless enough for anything, 
 and Magdalen might have gone there. As 
 the idea occurred to her Norah entered the 
 shrubbery. 
 
 At the second turning, where the path 
 among the trees wound away out of sight of 
 the house, she came suddenly face to face with 
 Magdalen and Frank ; they were sauntering 
 toward her arm in arm, their heads close 
 together, their conversation apparently pro- 
 <'eeding in whispers. They looked su5-piciousIy 
 handsome and ho[)py. At the sight of Xorah 
 both starte<l, and both stopped. Frank con- 
 fusedly raised his hat. and turned back in the 
 direction of his father's cottage. Magd.alen 
 advanced to meet her sister, carelessly swing- 
 ing her closed parasol from side to side, care- 
 lessly hTinnning an air from the overture which 
 had preceded the rising of the curtain on the 
 previous night. 
 
 " Luncheon-time already !" she said, looking 
 at her watch. " Surely not ?" 
 
 " Have you and Mr. Francis Clare been 
 alone in the shrubbery since ten o'clock?" 
 asked Norah. 
 
 " Afr. Francis Clare I How ridiculously 
 formal you are ! Why don't you call him 
 Frank ?" 
 
 " I askr-d you a question, Magdalen." 
 
 " Dear nie, how black you k»ok this morn- 
 ing ! I 'm in disgrace, I suppose. Haven't 
 vou forgiven mc yet for my acting last night? 
 1 couldn't help it, love ; 1 should have made 
 
26 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 nothing of Julia if I hadn't taken you for my 
 model. It 's quite a question of Art. In 
 your place, I should have felt flattered by the 
 selection." 
 
 " In your place, Magdalen, I should have 
 thought twice before I mimicked my sister to 
 an audience of strangers." 
 
 " That 's exactly why I did it— an audience 
 
 of strangers. How were they to know ? 
 
 Come ! come ! don't be angry. You are eight 
 
 years older than I am — you ought to set mo 
 
 . an example of good humor." 
 
 " I will set you an example of plain speak- 
 ing. I am moi'c sorry than I can say, Magda- 
 len, to meet you as I met you here just now !" 
 
 " What next, I wonder ? You meet me in 
 the shrubbery at home talking over the private 
 theatricals with my old play-fellow, whom I 
 knew when I was no taller tlian this parasol. 
 And that is a glaring impropriety, is it '.'' Honi 
 soit qui mal y pense. You wanted an answer 
 a minute ago — there it is for you, my dear, in 
 the choicest Norman French." 
 
 " I am in earnest about this, Magdalen — " 
 
 " Not a doubt of it. Nobody can accuse 
 you of ever making jokes." 
 
 " I am seriously sorry — " 
 
 " Oh dear !" 
 
 " It is quite useless to interrupt me. I have 
 it on my conscience to tell you — and I will 
 tell you — that I am sorry to see how this inti- 
 macj' is growing. I am sorry to see a secret 
 understanding established already between 
 you and Mr. Francis Clare." 
 
 " Poor Frank ! How you do hate him, to 
 be sure ! What on earth has he done to 
 offend you ?" 
 
 Norah's self-control began to show signs of 
 failing her. Her dark cheeks glowed, her 
 delicate lips trembled, before she spoke again. 
 Magdalen paid more attention to her parasol 
 than to her sister. She tossed it high in the 
 air and caught it. " Once !" she said — and 
 tossed it up again. " Twice" — and she toss- 
 ed it higher. " Thrice — !" Before she could 
 catch it for the third time Norah seized her 
 passionately by the arm, and the parasol 
 dropped to the ground between them. 
 
 " You are treating me heartlessly," she 
 ^said. "For shame Magdalen — for shame!" 
 
 The irrepressible outburst of a reserved 
 nature, forced into open self-assertion in its 
 own despite, is, of all moral forces, the hardest 
 to resist. Magdalen was startled into silence. 
 For a moment the two sisters — so strangely 
 dissimilar in person and character — faced 
 one another, without a word passing between 
 them. For a moment the deep brown eyes of 
 the elder and the light gray eyes of the younger 
 looked into each other with steady, unyielding 
 scrutiny on either side. Norah's face was the 
 first to change. Norah's head was the first to 
 turn away. She dropped her sister's arm in 
 silence. Magdalen stooped and picked up her 
 parasol. 
 
 " Ltry to keep my temper," she said, "and 
 
 you call me heartless for doing it. You al- 
 ways were hard on me, and you always will . 
 be." 
 
 Norah clasped her trembling hands fast in 
 each other. " Hard on you!" she said, in low, 
 mournful tones — and sighed bitterly. 
 
 Magdalen drew back a little, and mechani- 
 cally dusted the parasol with the end of her 
 garden cloak. 
 
 " Yes !" she resumed, doggedly. " Hard on 
 me, and hard on Frank." 
 
 " Frank !" repeated Norah, advancing on 
 her sister, and turning pale as suddenly as she 
 had turned red. "Do you talk of yourself 
 and Frank as if your interests were One al- 
 ready ? Magdalen ! if I hurt you, do I hurt 
 him? Is he so near and so dear to you as 
 that ?" 
 
 Magdalen drew farther and farther back. A 
 twig Irom a tree near caught her cloak ; she 
 turned petulantly, broke it off, and threw it 
 on the ground. " What right have you to 
 question me ?" she broke out on a sudden. 
 " Whether I like Frank, or whether I don't, 
 what interest is it of yours ?" As she said the 
 words she abruptly stepped forward to pass 
 her sister and return to the house. 
 
 Norah, turning paler and paler, barred the 
 way to her. " If I hold you by main force," 
 she said, " you shall stop and hear me. I have 
 watched this Francis Clare ; I know him 
 better than you do. He is unworthy of a 
 moment's serious feeling on your part ; he is 
 unworthy of our dear, good, kind-hearted 
 father's interest in him. A man with any 
 principle, any honor, any gratitude, would not 
 have come back as he has come back, dis- 
 graced — yes! disgraced by his spiritless neg- 
 lect of his own duty. I watched his face 
 while the friend who has been better than a 
 father to him was comforting and forgiving 
 him with a kindness he had not deserved : I 
 watched his face, and I saw no shame and no 
 distress in it — I saw nothing but a look of 
 thankless, heartless relief He is selfish, he is 
 ungrateful, he is ungenerous; he is only 
 twenty, and he has the worst failings of a 
 mean old age already. And this is the man I 
 find you meeting in secret — the man who has 
 taken such a place in your favor that you are 
 deaf to the truth about him, even from my 
 lips ! Magdalen, this will end ill ! For God's 
 sake, think of what I have said to you, and 
 control yourself before it is too late!" She 
 stopped, vehement and breathless, and caught 
 her sister anxiously by the hand. 
 
 Magdalen looked at her in unconcealed as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 " You are so violent," she said, " and so un- 
 like yourself, that I hardly know you. The 
 more patient I am, the more hard words I get 
 for my pains. You have taken a perverse 
 hatred to Frank, and you are unreasonably, 
 angry with me because I won't hate him too. 
 Don't, Norah ! you hurt my hand." 
 
 Norah pushed the hand from her contempt- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 27 
 
 uously. " I shall never hurt your heart," she 
 said — and suddenly turned her back on Mag- 
 dalen as she spoke the words. 
 
 There was a momentary pause. Norah kept 
 lier position. Magdalen looked at her per- 
 plexedly — hesitated — then walked away by 
 herself toward tlie house. 
 
 At the turn in the shrubbery path she stop- 
 ped and looked baek uneasily. " Oh, dear, 
 dear!" she thought to hcrsi'lf, "why didn't 
 Frank go wlien I told him ?" She hesitated, 
 and went hat'k a few steps. " There 's Norah 
 standing on her dignity, as obstinate as ever." 
 She stopped again. " What had I better do ? 
 I liate quarrelling: I think I '11 make it uj)." 
 She ventured elose to her sister, and touehed 
 her on the shoulder. Norah never moved. 
 "It 's not often she tlics into a passion," 
 thought Magdalen, touching her again ; " but 
 when she does, wliat a time it lasts her ! 
 Come !" she said, " give me a kiss, Norah, and 
 make it up. Won't you let me get at any part 
 of you, my dear, but the back of your neck ? 
 Well, it 's a very nice neck — it 's belter worth 
 kissing than mine — and there the kiss is, in 
 spite of you !" 
 
 She caught fast hold of Norah from behind, 
 and suited the action to the word, with a total 
 disregard of all that had just passed, which 
 her sister was tar from emulating. Hardly a 
 minute since the warm outpouring of Norah's 
 heart had burst through all obstacles. Had 
 the icy reserve frozen her u]» again already ! 
 It was hard to say. She never spoke ; she 
 never changed her position — she only searched 
 hurriedly for her handkerchief. As she di-ew 
 it out there was a sound of approaching foot- 
 steps in the inner recesses of the shrubbery. 
 A Scotch terrier scampered into view : and a 
 cheerful voice sang the first lines of the glee 
 in '^As You Like It." "It 's papa!" cried 
 Magdalen. "Come, Norah — come and meet 
 him." 
 
 Instead of following her sister, Norah pulled 
 down the veil of her garden hat, turned in 
 the opposite direction, and hurried back to 
 the house. 
 
 Slie ran up to her own room, and locked 
 herself in. She was crying bitterly. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 When Magdalen and her father met in the 
 slirubbcry Mr. Vanstonc's face showed plainly 
 that something had happened to please him 
 since he had left home m the morning. He 
 answered the cpiesfion which his daughter's 
 curiosity at once addressed to him, by inform- 
 ing her that he Iiad just come from Mr. Clare's 
 cottage; and that he had picked up, in that 
 unpromising locality, a startling piece of news 
 for the family at Combe-Raven. 
 
 On entering the philosopher's study that 
 morning, Mr. Vanstone had found him still 
 
 dawdling over his late breakfast, with an open 
 letter by his side, in place of the book which, 
 on other occasions, lay ready to his hand at 
 mealtimes. He held up the letter the moment 
 his visitor came into the room, and abruptly 
 opened the conversation by asking Mr. Van- 
 stone if his nerves were in good order, and if 
 he felt himself strong enough for the shock of 
 an overwhelming .surprise. 
 
 " Nerves ?" repeated ]\Ir. Vanstone. " Thank 
 God, I know nothing about my nerves. If 
 you have got anything to tell me, shock or no 
 shock, out with it on the spot." 
 
 Mr. Clare held the letter a little higher, 
 and frowned at his visitor across the break- • 
 fast table. " W^hat have I always told you V" 
 he asked, witli his sourest solemuity of look 
 and manner. 
 
 " A great deal more than I could ever keep 
 in my head," answered Mr. Vanstone. 
 
 " In your presence and out of it," continued 
 Mr. Clare, " I have always maintained that 
 the one important phenomenon presented by 
 modern society is — the enormous prosperity 
 of Fools. Sliow me an individual Fool, and 
 I will show you an aggregate Society which 
 gives that highly - favored personage nine 
 chances out of ten — and grudges tlie tenth 
 to the wisest man in existence. liook where 
 you will, in every high place there sits an 
 Ass, settled beyond the reach of all the great- 
 est intellects in tliis world to pull him down. 
 Over our whole social system complacent Im- 
 becility rules supreme — snuiFs out the search- 
 ing light of Intelligence witli total impunity — 
 and hoots, owl-like, in answer to every form 
 of protest, See how well we all do in the 
 dark ! One of these days that audacious as- 
 sertion will be practically contrailicted, and 
 the whole rotten system of modern society- 
 will come down with a crash." 
 
 " God forbid I" cried Mr. Vanstone, looking 
 about him as if the crash was coming already. 
 
 " With a crash !" repeated I\Ir. Clare. 
 " There is my theory in few words. Now for 
 the remarkable a])plication of it, which this 
 letter suggests. Here is my lout of a boy — " 
 
 " You don't mean that Fi-ank has got an- 
 other chance !" exclaimed Mr. Vaus-oiie. 
 
 " Here is this perfectly liopclcss booby, 
 Frank," pursued the philosopher. " He has 
 never done anything in his life to help him- 
 self, and, as a necessary con.-cqucncc. Society 
 is in a conspiracy to carry him to the top of 
 the tree. He has hardly had time to throw- 
 away that chance you gave him before this ; 
 letter comes and puts the ball at his foot for 
 the second time. My rich cousin (who is in- 
 tellectuallv fit to be at the tail of the family, 
 and who Is theretbre, as a matter of course, 
 at the head of it) has been good enough to 
 remember my existence, and has offered his 
 inlluence to serve my eldest boy. Read his let- 
 ter, and then observe the sequence of events. 
 IMy rich cousin is a booby who thrives on 
 landed property; he has done something for- 
 
28 
 
 KO NAME. 
 
 aiiolliur booby who thrives on Politics, who 
 knows a third booby who thrives on Com- 
 merce, who can do sometliing for a fourth 
 booby, tlirivin.o- at present on nothing, wliose 
 name is Frank. So the mill goes. So the 
 cream of all human rewards is sipped in endless 
 succession by the Fools. T shall pack Fi'ank 
 off" to-morrow. In course; of time he '11 come 
 back again on our hands, like a bad sliilling; 
 more chances will fall in his way as a neces- 
 Bary consequence of his meritorious imbecility. 
 Years mmII go on — I may not live to see it, no 
 more may you — it doesn't matter; Frank's 
 future is equally certain either way — put him 
 into the army, fhe Church, politics, what you 
 please, and let him drift : he '11 end in being 
 a ge'iieral, a bishop, or a minister of state, by 
 dint of the great modern qualification of doing 
 nothing whatever to deserve his place." With 
 this summary of his son's worldly prospects 
 Mr. Clare tossed the letter contemptuously 
 across the table, and poured himself out an- 
 other cup of tea. 
 
 Mr. Vans! one read the letter with eager 
 interest and pleasure. It was written in a 
 tone of somewhat elaborate cordiality ; but 
 the practical advantages whicli it pla(;ed at 
 Frank's disposal were beyond all doubt. The 
 writer had the means of using a friend's inter- 
 est — interest of no ordinary kind — with a 
 great Mercantile ]"irm in the (jity, and lie 
 had at once exerted this influence in favor of 
 Mr. Clare's eldest boy. Fjank would be re- 
 ceived in the office on a very ditferent footing 
 fiom the footing of an oniinary clerk ; he 
 would be " pushed on " at every available 
 opportunity; and the first "good thing" the 
 House had to offer, either at home or abroad, 
 would be placed at his disposal. If he pos- 
 sessed fair abilities, and showed common dili- 
 gence in exercising them, his fortune was 
 made ; and the sooner he was sent to London 
 to begin, the better for his own interests it 
 wouki be. 
 
 " Wonderful news !" cried Mr. Vanstone. 
 returning the letter. " I 'm delighted — I nujst 
 go back and tell them at home. This is fifty 
 times the chance that mine was. What the 
 deuce do you mean by abusing Soi-iety ? 
 Society has behaved unconnnouly well, in my 
 opinion. Where's Frank V" 
 
 "Lurking," said Mr. Clare. "It is one of 
 the intolerable peculiarities of louts that they 
 always lurk. I liaven't seen my lout this 
 morning. If you meet with him anj-where 
 give him a kick, and say I want him." 
 
 Mr. Clare's opinion of his son's habits mitrht 
 have been expresseil more politely as to form ; 
 but as to substance, it happened, on that par- 
 ticular morning, to be perfectly correct. Afler 
 leaving Magdalen, Frank had waited in the 
 shrubbery, at a safe distance, on the chance 
 that she might detach herself fi-om her sister's 
 company and join liim again. Mr. Vanstone's 
 appearance, immediately on Norah's depart- 
 
 ure, instead of encouraging him to show liim- 
 self, liad determined him on i-eturning to the 
 cottage. He walked back discontentedly, and 
 so fell into his father's clutches, totally un- 
 prepared for the pending announcement, in 
 that formidable quarter, of his departure for 
 London. 
 
 In the meantime Mr. Vanstone had com- 
 municated liis news — in the first place, to 
 Magdalen, and afterward, on getting back to 
 the house, to his wife and Miss Garth. He 
 was too unobservant a man to notice that 
 Magdalen looked unaccountably startled, and 
 Aliss Garth unaccountably relieved, by hit 
 announcement of Frank's good fortune. He 
 talked on about it quite unsuspiciously, until 
 the luncheon-bell rang — and then for the first 
 time he noticed Norah's absence. She sent a 
 message down stairs, after they had assembled 
 at the table, to say that a headache was keep- 
 ing her in her own room. When Miss Garth 
 went up shortly afterward to communicate 
 the news about Frank, Norah ap})eared, 
 sti-angely enough, to feel very little relieved 
 by hearing it. Mr. Fi-ancis Clare had gone 
 away on a former occasion (she remarked), 
 and had come back. He migiit come back 
 again, and sooner than they any of them 
 thought for. She said no more on the subject 
 than this: no reference escaped her to what 
 had taken place in the shrubbery. Her un- 
 conquerable reserve seemed to have strength- 
 ened its hold on her since the outburst of the 
 morning. She met Magdalen later in the 
 day, as if nothing had happened : no formal 
 reconciliation took place between them. It 
 was one of Norah's peculiarities to shrink 
 from all reconciliations that were openly rati- 
 fied, and to take her shy refuge in reconcilia- 
 tions that were silently implied. Magdalen 
 saw plainly, in her look and manner, that she 
 had made her first and last protest. Whether 
 the motive was j)ride, or sullenness, or distrust 
 of herself, or despair of doing good, the result 
 was not to be mistaken — Norah had resolved 
 on remaining passive for the future. 
 
 Later in tlie afternoon Mr. Vanstone sug- 
 gested a drive to his eldest daughter as the 
 best remedy foi' her headache. She readily 
 consented to accompany her father, who there- 
 ui)on proposed, as usual, that Magdalen should 
 join them. Magdalen was nowhere to be found. 
 For the second time that day she had wandered 
 into the grounds by herself. On this occa- 
 sion Miss Garth — who, after adopting Norah's 
 opinions, had passed from the one extreme of 
 overlooking Frank altogether, to the other 
 extreme of believing him capable of planning 
 an elopement at five minutes' notice — volun- 
 teered to set forth immediately and do her 
 best to find the missing young lady. After a 
 prolonged absence she returned unsuccessful — 
 with the strongest persuasion in her own mind 
 that Magdalen and Frank had secretly met 
 one another somewhere, but without having 
 discovered the smallest fi-asment of evidence 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 29 
 
 to confirm her suspicions. By this time the 
 carriatTe was at the door, and Mr. Vanstone 
 M-as unwiirm-; to wait any lonjrer. Ho and 
 Norah drove away together, and Mrs. Van- 
 stone and Miss Garth sat at h.omo over their 
 work. 
 
 In half an hour more Magdalen composedly 
 ■walked into the room. She was pale and de- 
 pressed. She received Miss (iarth's remon- 
 strances with a weary inattention ; explained 
 carelessly that she had been wanderino- in the 
 Avood; took up some books and ])ut them down 
 aeain; siudied imi)atiently, and went away up 
 stairs to her own room. 
 
 " I liiink INIagdalen is feeling the reaction 
 after yesterday," said Mrs. Vanstone, quietly. 
 '•It is just as we thought. Now the theatrical 
 amusements are all over, she is fi-etting foi- 
 more."' 
 
 Here was an opportunity of letting in the 
 light of truth on ]Mrs. Vanstoue's mind which 
 was too favorable to be missed. ]\liss Garth 
 questioned her conscience, saw her chance, 
 and took it on the spot. 
 
 " Yon forget," she rejoined, " that a certain 
 neighlior of ours is going away to-morrow. 
 Shall I tell you the truth V Magdalen is fret- 
 ting over the dejjarture of Francis Clare." 
 
 ilrs. Vanstone looked up from her work 
 with a gentle smiling surprise. 
 
 " Surely not V" she said. " It is natural 
 enough that Frank shoidd be attracted by 
 Magdalen — but I can't think that Magdalen 
 returns the feeling. Frank is so very unlike 
 her; so quiet and undemonstrative; so dull 
 and helpless, poor fellow ! in some things. He 
 is handsome, I know ; but he is so singularly 
 unlike Magilalcn that I can't think it pos- 
 sible — I can't, indeed." 
 
 " My dear good lady !" crie<l Miss Garth, in 
 great ama/ement, " do you reallv sup))Ose that 
 people fall in love wi'.ii each other on account 
 of similarities in tiieir characters •' In the 
 vast majority of cases they do just tln^ reverse. 
 Men marry the very last women, and women 
 the vcr}' last men, whom their friends would 
 think it possible they could care about. Is 
 there any phrase that is often(!r on all our lips 
 than ' What can hc-lve made Mr. So-and-So 
 marry that woman?' or, 'How could Mrs. 
 So-and-So throw herself away on that man V 
 Has all your experience of the world never 
 yet shown you that girls take jjervcrse fancies 
 for men who are totally unworthy of them V" 
 
 " \'ery true," said Mrs. Vanstone, com- 
 posedly. '* I forgot that. Still it seems un- 
 accountable, doesn't it ?" 
 
 " I'naccountable, because it happens every 
 day I" retorted Miss Garth, good-humoredlv. 
 " I know a great many excellent jx-onle who 
 reason against plain exji'-rioice in the same 
 way — who read the newspapers in the morn- 
 ing, and deny in the evening that there is any 
 romance for writers or painters to work upon 
 in modern life. Seriously, Mrs. ^'anstone, 
 you may take my word lor it — thanks to those 
 
 wretched theatricals — Magdalen is going the 
 way with Frank that a great many young 
 ladies have gone before her. He is (juite 
 unworthy of her ; he is in almost every re- 
 spect her exact opposite — and, without know- 
 ing it herself, she has fallen in love with him 
 on that very account. She is resolute and 
 impetuous, clever and domineering; she is not 
 one of tliose model women who want a man 
 to look up to, and to protect them — her beau- 
 ideal (though she may not think it herself) is 
 a man she can hen-peck. AVell ! one comfort 
 is, there are far better men, even of that sort, 
 to be had than Frank. It's a mercy he is 
 going away before we have more trouble 
 with thi'ui, and before any sei'ious mischief is 
 done." 
 
 " Poor Frank !" said Mrs. A'anstone. smiling 
 compassionately. " We havi> known him since 
 he was in jackets and Magdalen in short 
 frocks. Don't let us give him up yet. He may 
 do lietter this second time." 
 
 ]Miss (iartli looked up in astonishment. 
 
 " And sui)pose he does better V" she asked. 
 " What then y" 
 
 Mrs. ^'anstone cut off a loose thread in her 
 work, and laughed outright. 
 
 " M}' good friend," she said, "there is an 
 old farm-yard ]>roverb which warns us not to 
 count our chickens before they are hatched. 
 Let us wait a little before we count ours." 
 
 It was not easy to silence ^fiss Garth when 
 she was sjjeaking under the influence of a 
 strong conviction, but this reply closed her 
 lips. She resumed her work, and looked and 
 thought unutterable things. 
 
 Mrs. ^'anston■c"s behavior was certainly re- 
 markable under the circumstances. Here, on 
 one side, was a girl — with great ])ersonal at- 
 tractions, with rare pecuniary ])rospects, with 
 a social j)osition which might have justified 
 the best gentleman in the neighborhood in 
 making her an of1\'r of marriage — perversely 
 casting hei'self away on a penniless idle young 
 fellow, M'iio had failed at his first start in life, 
 and who. even if he succeeded in his second 
 attempt, must be for years to come in no posi- 
 tion to marry a young lady of fortune on equal 
 terms. And there, on the otlier side, was that 
 girl's mother, by no means dismayed at the 
 prospeet of a connection which was, to say 
 the least of it, far from desirable; by no means 
 certain, judging her by her own words and 
 looks, that a marriage between Mr. Van- 
 stone's daughter and Mr. Clare's .son might 
 not prove to be as satisfactory a result of the 
 intimacy between the two young ])cople as 
 the parents on both sides could possibly wish 
 lor! It was perplexing in the extreme. It 
 was almost as unintelligible as that past mys- 
 tery — that forgotten mystery now — of the 
 journey to London. 
 
 In the evening Frank made his aj)pearance, 
 and announced that his father had mercilesslr 
 sentenced him to leave Combt^-Kaven by the 
 parliamentary train the next morning. He 
 
30 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 mentioned this circumstance with an air of 
 sentimental resijrnation, and listened to Mr. 
 Vanstone's boisterous rejoicings over his new 
 prospects with a mild and mute surprise. His 
 gentle melancholy of look and manner greatly 
 assisted his personal advantages. In his own 
 effeminate way he T\'as more handsome than 
 ever that evening. His soft brown eyes wan- 
 dered about the room with a melting tender- 
 ness ; his hair was beautifully brushed ; his 
 delicate hands hung over the arms of his chair 
 with a languid grace. He looked like a con- 
 valescent Apollo. Never, on any previous 
 occasion, hail he practiced more successfullv 
 the social art which he habitually cultivated — 
 the art of casting himself on society in the 
 character of a well-bred Incubus, and confer- 
 ring an obligation on his fellow-creatures by 
 allowing them to sit under him. It was unde- 
 niably a dull evening. All the talking fell to 
 the share of Mr. Vanstone and Miss Garth. 
 Mrs. Vanstone was habitually silent ; Norah 
 kept herself obstinately in the back-ground ; 
 Magdalen was quiet and undemonstrative 
 beyond all former precedent. Fi-om first to 
 last she kept rigidly on her guard. The few 
 meaning looks that she cast on Frank flashed 
 at him like lightning, and were gone before 
 any one else could see them. Even when she 
 brought liim his tea, and when, in doing so, 
 her self-control gave way under the tempta- 
 tion which no woman can resist — the tempta- 
 tion of touching the man she loves — even then 
 she held the saucer so dextrously that it 
 screened her hand. Frank's self-possession 
 was far less steadily disciplined ; it only lasted 
 as long as he remained passive. When he 
 rose to go — when he felt the warm, clinging 
 pressure of IMagdalen's fingers round his hand 
 and the lock of her hair, which she slipped 
 into it at the same moment, he became aAvk- 
 ward and confused. He might have betrayed 
 Magdalen and betrayed himself but for Mr. 
 Vanstone, who innocently covered his retreat 
 by following him out, and patting him on the 
 shoulder all the way. " God bless you, Frank !" 
 cried the friendly voice, that never had a 
 harsh note in it for anybody. " Your for- 
 tune 's waiting for you. Go in,4tny boy — go 
 in and win !" 
 
 " Yes," said Frank. " Thank you. It will 
 be rather difficult to go in and win at first. Of 
 course, as you have always told me, a man's 
 business is to conquer his difliculties, and not 
 to talk about them. At the same time, I wish 
 I didn't feel quite so loose as I do in my figures. 
 It's discouraging to feel loose in one's figures. 
 Oh, yes ; I '11 write and tell you how I get on. 
 I 'm very mw_-h obliged by your kindness, and 
 very sorry I couldn't succeed with the engi- 
 neering. I think I should have liked engineer- 
 ing better than trade. It can't be helped 
 now, can it ? Thank you again. Good-by !" 
 
 So he drifted away into the misty commer- 
 cial future, as aimless, as helpless, as gentle- 
 manlike as ever. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Three months passed. During that time 
 Frank remained in London pursuing his new 
 duties, and writing occasionally to report him- 
 self to Mr. A'^anstone, as he had promised. 
 
 His letters were not enthusiastic on the sub- 
 ject of mercantile occupations. He described 
 himself as being still painfully loose in his fig- 
 ures. He was also more firmly persuaded than 
 ever — now when it was unfortunately too 
 late — that he preferred engineering to trade. 
 In spite of tliis conviction; in spite of head- 
 aches, caused by sitting on a high stool and 
 stooping over ledgers in unwholesome air; in 
 spite of want of society, and hasty breakfasts, 
 and bad dinners at chop-houses, his attend- 
 ance at the office was regular, and his dili- 
 gence at the desk unremitting. The head of 
 the dejiartment in which he was working 
 might be referred to, if any corroboration of 
 this statement was desired. Such was the 
 general tenor of the letters, and Frank's cor- 
 respondent and Frank's father differed over 
 them as widely as usual. Mr. Vanstone ac- 
 cepted them, as proofs of the steady develop- 
 ment of industrious principles in the writer. 
 i\Ir. Clare took his own characteristically op- 
 posite view. " These London men," said the 
 philosopher, " are not to be trifled with by 
 louts. They have got Frank by the scruff of 
 the neck — he can't wriggle himself free — and 
 he makes a merit of yielding to sheer ne- 
 cessity." 
 
 Tiie three months' interval of Frank's pro- 
 bation in London passed less cheerfully than 
 usual in the household at Combe-Raven. 
 
 As the summer came nearer and nearer, 
 Mrs. Vanstone's spirits, in spite of her resolute 
 efforts to control them, became more and more 
 depressed. "I do my best," she said to Miss 
 Garth ; " I set an example of cheerfulness to 
 my husband and my children ; but I dread 
 July." Norah's secret misgivings on her sis- 
 ter's account i-endered her more than usually 
 serious and unconununicative as the year ad- 
 vanced. Even Mr. Vanstone, when July drew 
 nearer, lost something of his elasticity of spirit. 
 He kept up appearances in his wife's pres- 
 ence, but on all other occasions there was now 
 a perceptible shade of sadness in his loojc and 
 manner. INIagdalen was so changed since . 
 Frank's departure that she helped the general 
 depression instead of relieving it. All her 
 movements had grown languid; all her usual 
 occupations were pursued with the same 
 weary indifference; she spent hours alone in 
 her own room; she lost her interest in being 
 brightly and prettily dressed ; her eyes were 
 heavy, her nerves were irritable, her complex- 
 ion was altered visibly for the worse — in one 
 word, she had become an oppression and a 
 weariness to herself and to all about he'r. 
 Stoutly as Miss Garth contended with these 
 growing domestic difficulties, her own spirits 
 suffered in the effort. Her memory reverted 
 
NO NAJME. 
 
 31 
 
 oftener and oftener to the March morning 
 ■when the master and mistress of the house 
 had departed for London, and when the first 
 serious change for many years j)ast had stolen 
 over tlie faniily atmosphere. When was that 
 atmosphere to be. clear again ? When were 
 the clouds of change to pass off before the re- 
 turning sunshine of past and happier times V 
 
 The spring and the early simmier wore 
 away. I'he dreaded month of July came, 
 Avith its airless nights, its cloudless mornings, 
 and its sultry days. 
 
 On the fifteenth of the month an event 
 happened which took every one but Norah 
 by surprise. For the second time, without 
 the sliglitcst apparent reason — for the second 
 time, witliout a word of warning befurehand 
 — Frank suddenly reappeared at his father's 
 cottage ! 
 
 Mr. Clare's lips opened to hail his son's re- 
 turn, in the old character of the "bad shil- 
 ling;" and closed again without uttering a 
 word. Ther(> was a portentous composure in 
 Frank's manner whieli showed that he had 
 other news to connnunicate than the news of 
 his dismissal. He answered his father's sar- 
 donic look of inquiry by at once explaining 
 that a very important proposal for his future 
 benefit had been madc^ to him that morning at 
 the ofliee. His first idea had been to commu- 
 nicate the details in writing; but the partners 
 had, on reflection, thought that the necessary 
 decision might be more readily obtained by a 
 personal interview with his father and his 
 friends. He had laid aside the pen ai'cord- 
 ingly, and had resigned liimself to the railway 
 on the spot. 
 
 After this preliminary statement, Fi-ank 
 
 ■ proceeded to describe the proposal which his 
 
 employers had addressed to liim, with every 
 
 external appearance of viewing it in the light 
 
 of an intolerable hardship. 
 
 The great firm in the City had obviously 
 made a discovery in relation to their clerk, 
 exactly similar to the discovery which hacl 
 formerly forced itself on the engineer in rela- 
 tion to his pupil. The young man, as they 
 politely phrased it, stood in need of some 
 special stimulant to stir him up. His employ- 
 ers (a<ting under a sense of their obligation 
 to the gentleman by whom Frank had been 
 recommended) '.lad considered the question 
 carefully, and had decided that the (uie prom- 
 ising use to which they could put Mr. Francis 
 Clare was to send him forthwith into another 
 quarter of the globe. 
 
 As a consequence of this decision, it was 
 now, therefore, proposed that he should enter 
 the house of their correspondents in China; 
 that he should remain there, familiarizing 
 himself thoroughly on the spot with the tea- 
 trade and the silk-trade for five years ; and 
 that he should return, at the expiration of this 
 period, to the central establishment in Lon- 
 don. If he made a fair use of his opportuni- 
 ties in China, he would come back, while still 
 
 a young man, fit for a position of trust and 
 emolument, and justified in looking forward 
 at no distant date to a time when the House 
 would assist him to start in business for him- 
 self. Such were the new prosjjccts which — to 
 adopt Mr. Clare's theory — now forced them- 
 selves on the ever-reluctant, ever-helpless, and 
 ever-ungrateful Frank. There was no time 
 to be lost. The final answer was to be at the 
 office on "Monday, the twentictli ;" the cor- 
 respondents in Cliina were to be written to 
 by the mail oti that day, and Frank was to 
 follow the letter by the next opportunity, or 
 to resign his chance in favor of some moi'C 
 enterprising young man. 
 
 i\Ir. Clare's reception of this extraordinary 
 news was startling in the extreme. The glo- 
 rious prospect of his son's banisluncnt to China 
 appeared to turn his brain. The firm pedestal 
 of his philosophy sank urulei' him ; the ])reju- 
 dices of society recovered their hold on his 
 mind. He seized Frank by the arm, and act- 
 ually accompanied him to Combe-llaven in 
 the amazing character of a visitor to the 
 house I 
 
 " Here I am with my lout." said Mr. Clare, 
 before a word could be uttered by the aston- 
 ished family. " Hear his story, all of you. 
 It has reconciled me, for the first time in my 
 life, to the anomaly of his existence." Frank 
 ruefully narrated the Chinese jiroposal for the 
 second time, and attenq)ted to attach to it his 
 own supplementary statement of objections 
 and difficulties. His fatluT stopped him at 
 the first word, pointed percmptoi-ily soiitiieast- 
 ward (from Somersetshire to ('Iiina). and said, 
 without an instant's hesitation, "(Jo!" Mr. 
 Vanstone, basking in goicleu visions of his 
 young friend's future, echoed that monosyllab- 
 ic decision with all his heart. Mrs. Vanstone, 
 Miss Garth, even Norali iierself, spoke to the 
 same purpose. Frank was petrified by an 
 absolute unanimity of o])iiiion which he had 
 not anticipated ; and Magdalen was caught, 
 for once in her life, at the end of all her 
 resources. 
 
 So far as practical results were concerned, 
 the sitting of the family council began and 
 ended with the general opinion that Frank 
 must go. ^Ir. Vanstonc's faculties were so 
 bewildered by the son's sudden arrival, the 
 father's unexpecte<l visit, and the ncw.s they 
 both brought with them, that he petitioned for 
 an adjournment, before the necessary arrange- 
 ments connected with his young friend's de- 
 parture were considered in detail. " Suppose 
 we all sleep upon it ?" Ik- said. •' To-morrow 
 our heads will feel a little steadier, and to- 
 morrow will he time enough to decide all 
 uncertainties." This suggestion was readily 
 adopted, and all further proceedings stood 
 adjourned until the next day. 
 
 That next day was destined to decide more 
 uncertainties than Mr. Vanstone dreamed of. 
 
 Early in the morning, after making tea by 
 herself as usual, Miss Garth took her ]>arasoi, 
 
32 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 and strolled into the garden. She had slept 
 ill ; and ten minutes in the open air before 
 the family assembled at breakfast might help 
 to compensate her, as she thought, for the loss 
 of her night's rest. 
 
 She wandered to the outermost boundary 
 of the flower-garden, and then returned by 
 another path, which led back past the side of 
 an ornamental summer-house, commandino' a 
 view over the fields from a corner of the lawn. 
 A slight noise — like, and yet not like, the 
 chirruping of a bird — caught her ear as she 
 approached the side of the summer-liouse. She 
 stepped round to the entrance, looked in, and 
 discovered Magdalen and Frank seated close 
 together. To Miss Garth's horror, Magdalen's 
 arm was unmistakably round Frank's neck ; 
 and, worse still, the position of her face at the 
 moment of discovery showed beyond all doubt 
 that she had just been offering to the victim 
 of Chinese commerce the first and foremost 
 of all the consolations which a woman can be- 
 stow on a man. In plainer words, she had 
 just given Frank a kiss. 
 
 In the presence of such an emergen(;y as 
 now confronted her Miss Garth felt instinct- 
 ively that all ordinary phrases of reproof 
 would be phrases thrown away. 
 
 " I presume," slie remarked, addressing 
 Magdalen with the merciless self-possession of 
 a middle-aged lady, unprovided for the occa- 
 sion with any kissing remembrances of her 
 own — "I presume (whatever excuses j'our 
 effrontery may suggest) you will not deny that 
 my duty compels me to mention what 1 have 
 just seen to your father?" 
 
 " I will save you the trouble," replied Mag- 
 dalen, composedly. " I will mention it to him 
 myself" 
 
 With those v.'ords she looked round at 
 Frank, standing trebly helpless in a corner of 
 the summer-house. " You shall hear what 
 happens," she said, with her bright smile. 
 " And so shall you," she added for Miss 
 Garth's especial benefit, as she sauntered past 
 the governess on her way back to the break- 
 fast-table. The eyes of Miss Garth followed 
 her indignantly ; and Frank slipped out, on 
 his side, at that favorable opportunity. 
 
 Under these circumstances, therci was but 
 one course that any respectable woman could 
 take — she could only shudder. Miss Garth 
 registered her protest in that form, and then 
 returned to the house. 
 
 When breakfast was over, and when Mr. 
 Vanstone's hand descended to his pocket in 
 .search of his cigar-case, Magdalen rose, 
 looked significantly at Miss Garth, and fol- 
 lowed her father into the hall. 
 
 " Papa," she said, " I want to speak to you 
 this morning — in private." 
 
 " Ay : ay !" returned Mr. Vanstone. "What 
 about, my dear ?" 
 
 " About — " Magdalen hesitated, searched 
 for a satisfactory form oif expression, and 
 found it. *' About business, papa," she said. 
 
 Mr. Vanstone took his garden hat from the 
 hall-table — opened his eyes -in mute per- 
 plexity — attempted to associate in his mind 
 the two extravagantly dissimilar ideas of 
 Magdalen and " business " — failed — and led 
 the way resignedly into the garden. 
 
 His daughter took his arm, and walked with 
 him to a shady seat at a convenient distance 
 from the house. She dusted the seat with her 
 smart silk apron before her father occupied 
 it. Mr. Vanstone was not accustomed to 
 such an extraordinary act of attention as this. 
 He sat down, looking more puzzled than ever. 
 Magdalen immediately placed herself on his 
 knee and rested her head comfortably en his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Am I heavy, papa ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, you are," said Mr. Vanstone. 
 " But not too heavy for me. Stop on your 
 perch, if you like it. Well ? And what may 
 this business happen to be ?" 
 
 "It begins with a question." 
 
 "Ah, indeed? That doesn't surprise mc. 
 Business with your sex, my dear, always begins 
 with questions. Go on." 
 
 " Papa, do you ever intend allowing me to 
 be married?" 
 
 Mr. Vanstone's eyes opened wider and 
 wider. The question, to use his own phrase, 
 completely staggered him. 
 
 " This is' busuiess with a vengeance !" he 
 said. " Why, Magdalen ! Avhat have you got 
 in that harum-scarum head of yours now ?" 
 
 " I don't exactly know, papa. Will you 
 answer my question ?" 
 
 " I will if I can, my dear; you rather stagger 
 me. Well, 1 don't know. Yes ; I suppose I 
 must let you be married one of these days — if 
 we can find a good husband for you. How hot 
 your face is ! Lift it up, and let the air blow 
 over it. You won't ? Well — have your own 
 way. If talking of business means tickling 
 your cheek against my Avhisker, I 've nothing 
 to say against it. Go on, my dear. What s 
 the next question? Come to the point !" 
 
 She was far too genuine a woman to do any- 
 thing of the sort. She skirted round the point, 
 and calculated her distance to the nicety of a 
 hair's-breadth. 
 
 " We were all very much surprised yester- 
 day — were we not, papa ? Frank is wonder- 
 fully lucky, isn't he ?" 
 
 " He 's the luckiest dog I ever came across," 
 said Mr. Vanstone. "But what has that got 
 to do with this business of yours ? I dare say 
 you see your way, Magdalen. Hang me if I 
 can see mine!" 
 
 She skirted a little nearer. 
 
 "I suppose he will make his fortune in 
 China?" she said. " It 's a long way off, isn't 
 it ? Did you observe, papa, that Frank looked 
 sadly out of spirits yesterday ?" 
 
 " I was so surprised by the news," said ]\tr. 
 Vanstone, "and so staggered by the sight of 
 old Clare's sharp nose in my house, that I 
 didn't much notice. Now you remind me of 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 it — yes. I don't think Frank took kindly to 
 his own good luck — not kindly at all." • 
 
 " Do you wonder at. tliat papa V" 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; I do, rather/' 
 
 " Don't you think it 's hard to be sent away 
 for five years, to make your fortune among 
 hateful savages, and lose sigiit of your friends 
 at home for all tiiat long time ? Don't you 
 think Frank will miss w.v sadly ? Don't you, 
 papa ? don't you ":'" 
 
 " GtMitly, Magdalen ! I 'm a little too old for 
 those long arms of yours to throttle me in fun. 
 You fe right, my love. Nothing in this world 
 without a drawback. Frank u^ill miss his 
 friends in P^ngland ; tkere "s no denying that,"' 
 
 " You always liked Franrk. And Frank al- 
 ways liked you." 
 
 " Yes, yes — a good fellow ; a quiet, good 
 fellow. Frank and I have always got on 
 smoothly together." 
 
 " You.-have got on like father and son, 
 haven't you ?" 
 
 *' Certainly, my dear." 
 
 " Perhaps you will think it harder on him 
 when he has gone than you think it now ?" 
 
 " Likely enough, Magdalen ; I don't say 
 no." 
 
 "Perhaps you will wish lie had stopped in 
 England? Why shouldn't he stop in Eng- 
 land, and do as. well as if he went to China':'" 
 
 " My dear, he has no prospects in England. 
 I wish he had, for his own sake. I wisii the 
 lad well, with all my heart." 
 
 " ^lay I wish him well too, papa — with all 
 my heart V" 
 
 '• Certainly, my love — your old play-fellow — 
 why not ? What 's the matter ':* God bless 
 my soul, what is the girl crying about '? One 
 would think Frank was transported for life. 
 Y'ou goose ! You know, as well as I do, he is 
 going to China to make his i'ortune." 
 
 " lie doesn '( Avant to make his fortune — he 
 might do much better." 
 
 " The deuce he might ! How, I should like 
 to know ':'" 
 
 " 1 ^ afraid to tell you. I-'m afraid you '11 
 laugh at me. Will y^u promise not to laugh 
 at me ':"" 
 
 *• Anytliing to please you, my dear. Y'es ; 
 I promise. Now then, out with it I How 
 might Frank do better"/" 
 
 " He might marry Me." 
 
 If the sunnner scene which then spread be- 
 fore Mr. Vansfone'seyes had suddenly changed 
 to a dreary winter view — if the trees had lost 
 all their leave?, and the green fields had turned 
 white with snow in an instant, his face could 
 hardly have expressed gn ater amazement than 
 it dis])layed when his daughter's faltering voic« 
 spoke those four last words. He tried to look 
 at lier, but she .steadily refu.'sed him the oppor- 
 tunity : she kept her face hidden over his 
 shoulder. Was she in earnest 'i His cheek, 
 still wet with her tears, answered for her. 
 There was a long pause of^ilence ; she waited — 
 with unaccustomed patience, she waited for 
 
 liim to speak. He routed himself, and spoke 
 these words only : " "You surprise me, Mag- 
 dalen ; you surprise me more tlian I can say." 
 
 At the altered tone of iiis voice — altei'ed to 
 a quiet, fatherly seriousness — Magdalen's arras 
 clung round him closer than before. 
 
 • " Have I disappointed you, papa ?" slip 
 asked, faintly. " Don't say I have disappoint- 
 ed you ! Who am I to tell my secret to, if not 
 to you? Don't let him go — don't! don't! 
 You will break his heart. Ho is afraid to tell 
 his father; he is even afraid ifou might be an^jry 
 with him. There is nobody to speak for us, 
 except — except me. Oh, don't let him go I 
 Don't for his sake — " she whispered the next 
 words in a kiss — " don't for Mine !" 
 
 Her father's kind face saddened ; he sighed, 
 and patted her fair head tenderly. " Hush, 
 my love," he said, almost in a whisper ; " hush !" 
 She little knew what a revelation every word, 
 every action that escaped her, now opened be- 
 fore him. She had m,\de him her grown-up 
 play-fellow fi-ora her childhood to that day. 
 Slie had romped with him in her frocks, she 
 had gone on romping witii hiui in her gowns. 
 He had never been long enough separated 
 from her to have the external changes in his 
 daughter Ibrced on his attention. His artless, 
 fatherly experience of her had taught him that 
 she was a taller child in later years, and had 
 taught him little more. And now, in one 
 breathless instant, the conviction that she was 
 a woman rushed over his mind. He felt it in 
 the trouble of her bosom ])resscd against his ; 
 in the nervous thrill of her arms i-lasped round 
 his neck. The Magdalen of his innocent ex- 
 piM'ience, a woman — with the master-passion 
 of her sex in possession of her heart already ! 
 
 " Have you thought long of tliis, my dear?" 
 he asked, as soon as he could speak composedly-. 
 " Are you sure — ?" 
 
 She answered the question before he could 
 finish it. 
 
 " Sure I love him V" she said. " Oh, what 
 words can say Yes for me as I want to say it ! 
 I love him — !" Her voice faltered softly, and 
 her aAswer ended in a sigli. 
 
 " You are very your^. You and Frank, my 
 love, are both very young." • 
 
 She raised lier head from his shouWer for 
 the first time. The thought and its expression 
 flashed from her at the same moment. 
 
 " Are we much younger than you and 
 mamma were ^" she asked, smiling through her 
 tears. , 
 
 She tried to lay her head back in its old po- 
 sition, iiut as sill! spoke those words her lather 
 caught her round the waist^ — forced her, betbre 
 she was aware of it, to look hira in the face — 
 and kissed her, with a sudden outburst of ten- 
 derness wliich brought the tears thronging 
 back thickly into her eyes. " Not much 
 vounger. my etiild," he ^aid, in low, broken 
 tones — " not mufh younger than your mother 
 and I were." He put her away from him, and 
 rose from the scat, and turned his head aside 
 
34 
 
 NO NMIE. 
 
 quickly. " Wait here, and compose yourself; 
 I Avill go indoors and ?peak to your mother." 
 His voice trembled over those parting words, 
 and he left her without once looking round 
 again. 
 
 She waited — waited a weary time; and he 
 never came back. At last her growing anxiety 
 urged her to follow him into the house. A new 
 timidity throbbed in her heart as she doubt- 
 ingly approached the door. Never had she 
 seen the depths of her father's sini])]e nature 
 ftiiTcd as they had been stii-red by her con- 
 fession. She almost dreaded lier next meeting 
 with him. She wandered softly to and fro in 
 the hall, with a shyness unaccountable to her- 
 ticlf — with a terror of being discovered and 
 spoken to by her sister or Miss Garth, which 
 made her nervously susceptible to the slightest 
 noises in the house. The door of the morning- 
 room opened while her back was turned toward 
 it. She started violently as she looked round 
 and saw her father in the hall ; her heart beat 
 faster and faster, and she felt herself turning 
 pale. A second look at him, as he came nearer, 
 reassured her. He was com])osed again, thougli 
 not so cheerful as usual. She noticed that lie 
 advanced and si)oke to her with a forbearing 
 gentleness, which was more like his manner to 
 her mother than his ordinary manner to her- 
 self. 
 
 " Go in, my love," he said, opening the door 
 for her which he had just closed. " Tell your 
 mother all you have told me — and more, if you 
 have more to say. She is better piepared for 
 you than I was. We will take to-day to think 
 of it, Magdalen ; and to-morrow }'ou shall 
 know, and Frank shall know, Avhat we decide." 
 
 Her eyes brightened as they looked into his 
 face and saw the decision there ali'cady, with 
 the double penetration of her womanhood and 
 her love. Happy, and beautiful in her happi- 
 ness, she put his hand to her lips, and went 
 without hesitation into the morning-room. 
 There her father's words had smoothed th<> 
 way for her: there the first shock of the sur- 
 ])rise was past and over, and only the pleasure 
 of it remained. Her mother had been her age 
 once ; her mother would know how fond she 
 was of Frank. So the coming interview was 
 anticipated in her thoughts; and — except that 
 there was an unaccountable appearance of re- 
 straint in Mrs. Vanstone's first reception of 
 her — Avas anticipated aright. After a little 
 the mother's questions came more and more 
 luireservediy from the sweet, unibrgotten ex- 
 ]>erience of the mother's heart: she lived acain 
 throu,gh her own young days of hope and love 
 in Magdalen's replies. 
 
 The next morning the all-important decision 
 v/as announced in words. Mr. Vanstone took 
 his daughter up stairs into her mother's room, 
 and there placed before her the result of the 
 yesterday's consultation, and of the night's re- 
 flection which had followed it. He spoke with 
 perfect kindness apd self-possession of manner, 
 but in fewer and more serious words than 
 
 usual ; and he held his wife's hand tenderly in 
 his own all through the interview. 
 
 He infoimed ]\lagdalen that neither he nor 
 her mother felt themselves justified in blaming 
 her attachment to Frank. It had been, in 
 part perhaps, the natural consequence of her 
 childish familiarity Avith him; in part, also, the 
 I result of the closer intimacy between them 
 i wjiich the theatrical entertainment had neces- 
 j saril}- produced. At the same time, it was now 
 the dutj- of her parents to put that attachment, 
 I on both sides, to a proper test — fqr her sake, 
 because her happy future was their dearegj. , 
 care; for Frank's sake, because they "vvefA- 
 bound to give him the opportunity of showing 
 himself worthy of the trust confided in him. 
 They were both conscious of being strongly 
 prejudiced in Frank's favor. His father's ec- 
 centric conduct had made the lad the object 
 of their compassion and their care from his 
 earliest years : he (and his younger brothers) 
 had almost filled the places to them of those 
 other children of their own whom they had 
 lost. Although they firmly believed their good 
 opinion of Frank to be well founded — still, in 
 the interest of their daughter's happiness, it 
 was necessary to put that opinion firmly to the 
 proof, by fixing certain coTiditions, and by 
 interposing a year of delay between the con- 
 templated marriage and the jiresent time. 
 
 During that year Frank was to remain at 
 the office in Lor.don ; his employers being in- 
 formed beforehand that family circumstances 
 prevented his accepting their offer of employ- 
 1 ment in China. He was to consider this con- 
 cession as a recognition of the attachment 
 between Magdalen and himself, on certain 
 terms only. Jf during the yea.r of pi'obation 
 he failed to justify the confidence placed in 
 him — a confidence which had led Mr. Van- 
 stone to take unresei'vedly upon himself the 
 whole responsibility of Frank's future pros- 
 pects — the marriage scheme was to be con- 
 sidered from that moment as at an end. If, on 
 the other hand, the result to which Mr. Van- 
 stone confidently looked forward really oc- 
 curred — if Frank's probationary year proved 
 his claim to the most precious trust that could 
 be placed in his hands — then Magdalen her- 
 self should reward him with all that a woman 
 can bestow ; and the future which his present 
 employers had placed before him as the result 
 of a five years residence in China should be 
 realized in one year's time by the dowry of 
 his young wife. 
 
 As her father drew that picture of the future 
 the outburst of Magdalen's gratitude could no 
 longer be restrained. She was deeply touched 
 — she spoke from her inmost heart. Mr. Van- 
 stone waited until his daughter and his wife 
 were composed again, and then added the last 
 words of explanation which were now left for 
 him to speak. 
 
 " You understand, my love," he said, " that 
 I am not anticipating Frank's living in idle- 
 ness on his wife's means ? My plan for him is 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 Si) 
 
 'that he should still profit bythe interest -which [ 
 his present employers take in him. Their 
 knowledge of aiFairs in the City will soon place 
 a sjood partnership at his disposal — and you 
 will give him the money to buy it out of hand. 
 I shall limit the sum< my dear, to half your ! 
 fortune; and the other half! shall have settled 
 upon vourself. We sliall all be alive and i 
 hearty, I hope" — he looked tenderly at his 
 wife as he said those words — " all alive and 
 hearty at the year's end. But if I am gone, 
 Magdalen, it will make no dilference. My 
 will — made long before I ever thought of 
 having a son-in-law — divides my fortune into 
 two equal parts. One part, goes to your i 
 mother, and the other part is fairly divided ; 
 lietween my children. You will have your 
 share on your wedding-day (and Norali will 
 have hers when she marries) Irom my own 
 hand, if I live; and under my will, if I die. 
 There ! tliere ! no gloomy laces," he said, with 
 a momentary return of his everyday good 
 spirits. '• Your mother and I mean to live and 
 see Frank a great merchant. I siiall leave , 
 you, my dear, to enlighten the son on our new 
 projects, while I walk over to tlie cottage — " 
 
 He stopped ; his eyebrows contracted a lit- 
 tle ; and he looked aside hesitatingly at Mrs. 
 Vanstone. 
 
 " What must you do at the cottage, papaV" 
 asked ^lagdalen, after having vainly waited lor 
 him to tinish the sentence of his own accord. 
 
 " I must consult Frank's father," he replied. 
 " W© must not forget that Mr. Clare's consent 
 is still wanting to settle this mattci-. And as 
 time presses, and we don't know wlial ditlicul- 
 ties he may not raise, the sooner I see him the 
 better." 
 
 He gave that answer in low, altered tones ; 
 and ro;<c from his chair in a half reluctant, half 
 resigned manner, which Magdalen observed 
 with S'Ccret alarm. 
 
 She glanced inquiringly at her mother. To 
 all appearance Mrs. Vanstone had been alarm- 
 ed by the change in him also. She looked 
 anxious and uneasy; she turned her face away 
 on the sofa pillow — turned it suddenly, as if. 
 she was in pain. 
 
 " Are you not well, mamma ?" asked Mag- 
 dalen. 
 
 " Quite well, my love," said Mrs. Van.stone, 
 shortly and sharply, without turning round. 
 " Leave me a little — I only want rest." 
 
 Magdalen went out with her father. 
 
 " Papa I" she whi.spcred, an.xiously, as they 
 descended the stairs. " You don't think Mr. 
 Clare will say No?" ' 
 
 *' I can't tell beforehand," answered Mr. 
 Vanstone. " I hope he will say Yes." 
 
 " There is no reason why he should say any- 
 thing else — is there ?" 
 
 she jnit the question faintly while he was 
 getting his hat and stick, and lie did not appear 
 to hear her. Doubting whether she should 
 repeat it or not, she accompanie<l him as far as 
 the garden, on his way to Mr. Clare's cottage. 
 
 He stopped her on the lawn, and sent her back ' 
 to the house. 
 
 '• Y'^ou have nothing on your head, my dear," 
 he said. " If yon want to be in the garden, 
 don't forget how hot the sun is — don't come 
 out without your hat." 
 
 He walked on toward the cottage. 
 
 She waited a moment, and looked after him. 
 She missed the customary flourish of his stick ; 
 she saw his little Scotch terrier, who had run 
 out at his heels, barking and capering about 
 him unnoticed. He was out of spirits; he was 
 str.angely out of spirits. AVhat did it mean ? 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 On returning to the house Magdalen felt her 
 shoulder suddenly touched from behind as she 
 crossed the hall. She turned and confronted 
 her sister. Before she could ask any questions 
 Norah confusedly addressed her in these words: 
 "I beg your pardon; I beg you to forgive me." 
 
 Magdalen looketl at her sister in astonish- 
 ment. All memory, on her side, of the sharp 
 words which had passed between them in the 
 shrubbery, was lost in the new interests that 
 now absorbed her — lost as completely as if the 
 angry interview had never taken place. " For- 
 give you !" she repeated, amazedly, " What 
 for?" 
 
 " I have heard of your new prospects," pur- 
 sui>d Norah, speaking with a mechanical sub- 
 missiveness of manner which seemed almost 
 ungracious; I wished to set things right be- 
 tween us ; I wished 'to say I was sorry for wiiat 
 happened. \V'ill you Ibrget if ? Will you 
 forget and forgive what happened in the 
 shrubber)' ?" She tried to proceed ; but her 
 inveterate reserve — or perhaps her obstinate 
 reliance on her own opinions — silenced her at 
 those last words. Her face clouded over on a 
 sudden. Before her sister could answer her 
 she turned away abruptly and ran up stairs. 
 
 The door of the library opened before Mag- 
 dalen could follow her, and Miss Garth ad- 
 vanced to express the sentiments proper to the 
 occasion. 
 
 They were not the mcchanically-submissivo 
 sentiments which Magdalen had ju.st heard. 
 Norah had struggled against her rooted dis- 
 trust of Frank, in deference to the unanswer- 
 able decision of both her parents in his favor; 
 and had suppressed the open expression of her 
 antipathy, though the feeling itself remained 
 unconquercd. Miss Garth had made no such 
 concession to the master and mistress of the 
 house. She had hitherto held the position of 
 a hi<'h authority on all rlomestic questions ; and 
 she flatly <leclined to get off her pedestal in 
 deference to any change in the family circum- 
 stances, no matter how amazing or how un- 
 expected that change might be. 
 
 •• Pray accept my congratulations," said 
 Miss Garth, bristling all over with implied 
 objections to Frank — " my congratulation^. 
 
S6 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 and my apolopfies. When I caught you kissing 
 Mr. Francis Clare in the summer-house I had 
 no idea you were engaged in carrying out tlie 
 intentions of your parents. I oifer no opinion 
 on the subject. I merely regret my own acci- 
 dental appearance in the character of an 
 Obstacle to the course of true Ioa'c — whi(^h 
 appears to run smooth in summer-houses, what- 
 ever Shakspeare may say to the contrary. 
 Consider me for the future, if you ])leasc, as 
 an obstacle removed. May you be happy !" 
 Miss Garth's lips closed on that last sentence 
 like a trap ; and Miss Garth's eyes looked omi- 
 nously prophetic into the mati-imonial i'uture. 
 
 If Magdalen's anxieties had not been i'ar too 
 serious to allow her the customary fro« use of 
 her tongue, she would have been ready, on the 
 instant, with an appropriately satirical answer. 
 As it was, Miss Gartii simply irritated her. 
 " Pooh !" she said, and ran up stairs to her sis- 
 ter's room. 
 
 She knocked at the door, and there was no 
 answer. She tried the door, and it resisted 
 her from the inside. The sullen, unmanageable 
 Norah was locked in. 
 
 Under other circumstances ]\Iagdalen would 
 not have been satisfied with knocking — she 
 would have called through the door loudly 
 and more loudly till the house was disturbed, 
 and she had carried lier point. But the 
 doubts and fears of the morning had unnerved 
 her already. She went down stairs again 
 softly, and took her hat from the stand in the 
 hall. " He told me to put my hat on," she 
 said to herselti with a meek, filial docility 
 which was totally out of her character. 
 
 She went into the garden, on the shrubberj' 
 side, and waited there to catch the first sight 
 of her father on his return. Half an hour 
 passed — Ibrty minutes passed — and then his 
 voice reached her from among tlie distant 
 trees. " Come in to heel !" she heard him 
 call out loudly to the dog. Her face turned 
 pale. " He 's angry with Snap !" she ex- 
 claimed to herself, in a whisper. The next 
 minute he appeared in view, walking rapidly, 
 with his head down, and Snap at his heels in 
 disgrace. The sudden excess of her alarm as 
 she observed those ominous signs of something 
 wrong rallied her natural energy, and de- 
 termined her desperately on knowing the 
 worst. 
 
 She walked straight forward to meet her 
 father. 
 
 " Your face tells 3-our news," she said, faintly, j 
 " Mr. Clare has been as heartless as usual — 
 Mr. Clare has said No ?" 
 
 Her father turned on her with a sudden 
 severity so entirely unparalleled in her expe- 
 rience of him that she started back in down- 
 right terror. 
 
 " Magdalen !" he said, " whenever you speak 
 of my old friend and neighbor again, bear this 
 in mind. Mr. Clare has just laid me under an 
 obligation which I shall remember gratefully 
 to the end of my life." 
 
 He stopped suddenly after saying those re- 
 markable words. Seeing that he had startled 
 her, his natui-al kindness prompted him in- 
 stantly to sottcn the reproof, and to end the, 
 suspense from which she was plainly sutfering. 
 " Give me a kiss, my love," he resumed, and 
 1 '11 tell you in return that Mr. Clare has said 
 —Yes." 
 
 She attempted to thank him, but the sud- 
 den luxury of relief was too much for her. 
 She could only cling round his neck in silence. 
 He felt her trembling irom head to foot, and 
 said a few words to calm her. At the altered 
 tones of his master's voice Snap's meek tail 
 reappeared fiercely from between his legs, and 
 Snap's lungs modestlj' tested his position with 
 a brief experimental bark. The dog's quaint- 
 ly appropriate assertion of himself on his old 
 looting was the interru^stion of all others 
 which was best fitted to restore Magdalen to 
 herself. She caught the shaggy little terrier 
 up in her arms and kissed liivi next. " You 
 darling," she exclaimed, " you 're almost as 
 glad as I am !" She turned again to her father 
 with a look of tender reproach. "You fright- 
 ened me, papa," she said. " You were so 
 unlike yourself." 
 
 " I shall be right again to-morrow, my deai;. 
 I am a little upset to-day." 
 
 " Not by me '?" 
 
 " No, no." 
 
 " Bv something vou have heard at Mr. 
 Clare's ?" 
 
 " Yes — nothing you need alarm yourself 
 about ; nothing that won't wear off by to-mor- 
 row. Let me go now, my dear, I have a letter 
 to write ; and I want to speak to your mother." 
 
 He left her and went on to the house. 
 Magdalen lingered a little on the lawn to feel 
 all the happiness of her new sensations, then 
 turned away toward the shrubbery to enjoy 
 the higher luxury of communicating them. 
 The dog followed her. She whistled and 
 clajjped her hands. " Find him !" she said, 
 with beaming eyes. " Find Frank !" Snap 
 scampered into the shrubbery, with a blood- 
 thirsty snarl at starting. Perhaps he had 
 mistaken his young mistress, and considered 
 himself her emissary in search of a rat ? 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Vanstone entered the house. 
 He met his wife slowly descending the stairs, 
 and advanced to give her his arm. " How 
 has it ended ?" she asked anxiously, as he led 
 her to the sofa. 
 
 " Happily — as we hoped it would," answered 
 her husband. " My old friend has justified my 
 opinion of him." 
 
 " Thank God !" said Mrs. Vanstone, fer- 
 vently. " Did you feel it, love ?" she asked, 
 as her husband arranged the sofa pillows — 
 " did you feel it as painfully as I feared you 
 would':'" 
 
 "I had a duty to do, my dear, and I did it." 
 
 Alter replying in those terms, he hesitated. 
 Apparently he had something more to say — 
 something, perhaps, on the subject of that 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 passing uneasiness of mind which had been 
 produced by his interview with Mr. Clare, and 
 which Magdalen's questions had obliged him 
 to acknowledge. A look at his wife decided 
 his doubts in the negative. He only asked if 
 she felt comfortable, and then turned away to 
 leave the room. 
 
 " Must you go ?" she asked. 
 
 " I liave a letter to write, my dear." 
 
 " Anything about Frank ?" 
 
 " No : to-morrow will do for that. A let- 
 ter to Mr. Pendril ; I want him here imme- 
 diately." 
 
 " Business, I suppose ?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear — business." 
 
 He went out and shut himself into the little 
 front room, close to the hall door, which was 
 called his study. By nature and habit the 
 most procrastinating of letter-writers, he now 
 inconsistently opened his desk and took u]) the 
 pen without a moment's delay. His letter was 
 long enough to occupy three pages of note- 
 paper; it Avas written with a readiness of ex- 
 pression and a rapidity of hand which seldom 
 characterized bis proceedings when engaged 
 over his ordinary correspondence. He wrote 
 the address as follows: "Immediate — Wil- 
 liam Pendril, Esq., Searle Street, Lincoln's 
 Inn, London"' — then pushed the letter away 
 from him, and sat at the table, drawing lines 
 on the blotting-paper with his pen, lost in 
 thought. " No,' he said to himself; " I can 
 do nothing more till Pemh-il comes." He 
 rose ; his face brightened as he put the stamp 
 on the envelope. The writing of the letter 
 had sensibly relieved him, and his whole bear- 
 ing showt'd it as he left the room. 
 
 On the door-step he found Norah and Miss 
 Garth setting forth together for a walk. 
 
 "Which way arc you going V" he asked. 
 " Anywhere near the })Ost-o(Rce ? I wish you 
 would post this letter tor me, Norah. It is 
 very important — so important, that I hardly 
 like to trust it to Thomas as usual.'" 
 
 Norah at once took charge of the letter. 
 
 "If you look, my dear," continued her 
 father, "you will see that 1 am writing to Mr. 
 Pendril. I expect him here to-morrow after- 
 noon. Will you give the necessary directions. 
 :Miss Garth ? Mr. Pendril will sleep here to- 
 morrow night, and stay over Stniday. Wait a 
 minute I To-day is Friday, purely I had an 
 engagement for Saturday afternoon '/" He 
 consulted his pocket-book, and read over one 
 of tlie entries with a look of annoyance. 
 " Grail.sea Mill, three o'clock, Saturdav.* Just 
 the time when Pendril will be here ; and I 
 must be at home to see him. 'How can I 
 manajje it? Monday will be too late for my 
 business at Grail.<ea. I 'II go to-<lay instead, 
 and take ray chance of catching the miller at 
 hi.-* dinner-time." He looked at his watch. 
 " Xo time for driving ; I must do it by rail- 
 way. If I go at once I shall catch the down- 
 train at our station, and get on to (Jrailsea. 
 Take care of the letter, Norah. 1 won't ke»]) 
 
 dinner waiting; if the return train doesn't 
 suit, I '11 borroAv a gig and set back in that 
 way." 
 
 As he took up his hat Magdalen appeared 
 at the door, returning from her interview with 
 Frank. The hurry of her father's movements 
 attracted her attention, and she asked him 
 where he was going. 
 
 " To Grailsea," replied Mr. Yanstone. 
 "Your business, Miss Magdalen, has got in 
 the way of mine, and mine must give way to 
 it." 
 
 He sjwke those parting words in his old 
 hearty manner, and left them, with the old 
 characteristic flourish of his trusty stick. 
 
 " My business !" said ]\Iagdalen.' " I thought 
 my business was done." 
 
 Miss Garth pointed significantly to the let- 
 ter in Norah's hand. "Your business, bevond 
 all doubt," she said. " Mr. Pendril is coming 
 to-morrow ; and Mr. Vanstonc seems remark- 
 ably anxious about it. Law and its attendant 
 troubles already! Governesses who look in 
 at summer-house doors are not the only ob- 
 stacles to the course of true love. Parchment 
 is sometimes an obstacle. I hope you mav 
 find Parchment tvs ])liable as I am — I wish 
 you well through it. Now, Norah !" 
 
 .]\Iiss Garth"s second shaft struck as harmless 
 as the first. Magdalen had returned to the 
 house a little vexed ; her interview with 
 Frank having been interrupted by a messen- 
 ger from Mr. Clare, sent to summon the son 
 into the father"s presence. Although it had 
 been agreed, at the private interview between 
 Ml-. "\^anstone and I\Ir. Clare, that the questions 
 discussed tliat morning should not he commu- 
 nicated to the children until the year of pro- 
 bation was at an end — and although, under 
 these circumstances, ^Ir. Clare had nothing to 
 tell Frank which Magdalen could not commu- 
 nicate to him much more agreeably — the 
 philosopher was not the less resolved on per- 
 sonally informing his son of the parental con- 
 ce.''sion which rescued him from Chinese exile. 
 The result was a sudden sununons to the cot- 
 tage which startled IMagdah-n. but which did 
 not appear to take Frank by sin-prise. His 
 filial experience penetrated the mystery of 
 Mr. Clare's motiv(!S easily enough. " When 
 my father 's in spirits." he said, sulkily, " he 
 likes to bully me about my good luck. This 
 message means that he 's going to bully me 
 now." 
 
 " Don't go." suggested Magdalen. 
 " I must," replied Frank. "I shall never 
 hear the last of it if I don't. He *s primed 
 and loaded, and he means to go ofT. He went 
 off once, when the enfrineer took me; he went 
 oflT twice, when the ofHee in the City took me; 
 and he 's going oflT thrice, now you 'vf taken 
 me. If it wasn't for you I should wish I had 
 never been born. Yvk, your father 's been 
 kind to me, I know — and I should have gone 
 to China if it hadn't bi-en for him. I 'm ."-ure 
 I "m very much obliged. Of eourie we have 
 
S8 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 no right to expect anything else — still it 's 
 discouraging to keep us waiting a year, isn't 
 it ?" 
 
 Magdalen stopped his mouth by a summary 
 process to which even Frank submitted grate- 
 fully. At the same time she did not forget to 
 set down his discontent to the right side. 
 " How fond he is of me !" she thouijht. " A 
 year's waiting is quite a hardship to him." 
 She returned to the house, secretly regretting 
 that she had not heard more of Frank's com- 
 plimentary complaints. Miss Garth's elaborate 
 satire, addressed to her while she was in this 
 frame of mind, was a purely gratuitous waste 
 of Miss Garth's breath. What did Magdalen 
 care for satire ? What do Youth and Love 
 ever care for except themselves ? She never 
 even said as much as " Pooh !" this time. She 
 laid aside her hat in serene silence, and saun- 
 tered languidly into the morning-room to keep 
 her mother company. She lunched on dire 
 forebodings of a quarrel between Frank and 
 his father, with accidental interruptions in the 
 shape of cold chicken and cheese-cakes. She 
 trifled away half an hour at the piano ; and 
 played, in that time, selections from the Songs 
 of Mendelssohn, the Mazurkas of Chopin, tlie 
 Operas of Verdi, and the Sonatas of Mozart 
 — all of whom had combined together on this 
 occasion, and produced one immortal work, 
 entitled "Frank." She closed the piano and 
 went up to her room to dream away the houi-s 
 luxuriously in visions of her married future. 
 The green shutters were closed, the easy cliair 
 was pushed in front of the glass, the maid was 
 summoned as usual, and the comb assisted the 
 mistress's reflections, through the medium of 
 the mistress's hair, till heat and idleness as- 
 serted their narcotic influences together, and 
 Magdalen fell asleep. 
 
 It was past three o'clock when she awoke. 
 On going down stairs again she found her 
 mother, Norah, and Miss Garth all sitting 
 together enjoying the shade and the coolness 
 under the open portico in front of the house. 
 
 Norah had the railway time-table in her 
 hand. Tliey had been discussing the chances 
 of Mr. Vanstone's catching the return train, 
 and getting back in good time. That topic 
 had led them, next, to his business errand at 
 Grailsea — an errand of kindness, as usual — 
 undertaken for the benefit of the miller, who 
 had been his old farm-servant, and who was 
 now hard pressed by serious pecuniary difli- 
 eulties. From this they had glided insensibly 
 into a subject often repeated among them, 
 s^nd never exhausted by repetition — the praise 
 of Mr. Vanstone himself Each one of the 
 three had some exjjerience of her own to 
 relate of his simple, generous nature. The 
 conversation seemed to be almost painfully 
 interesting to his wife. She was too near the 
 time of her trial now not to feel nervously 
 sensitive to the one subject which always held 
 the foremost place in her heart. Her eyes 
 overflowed as Magdalen joined the little group 
 
 under the portico ; her frail hand trembled as 
 it sigaed to her youngest daughter to take the 
 vacant chair by her side. " We were talking 
 of your father," she said, softly. " Oh, my 
 love, if your married life is only as happy — " 
 Her voice failed her ; she put her handker- 
 chief hurriedly over her face, and rested her 
 head on Magdalen's shoulder. Norah looked 
 appealingly to Miss Garth, who at once led the 
 conversation back to the more trivial subject 
 of Mr. Vanstone's return. " We have all 
 been wondering," she said, with a significant 
 look at Magdalen, " whether your father will 
 leave Grailsea in time to catch the train — or 
 whether he will miss it, and be obliged to 
 drive back. What do you say ?" 
 
 " I say papa will miss the train," replied 
 Magdalen, taking Miss Garth's hint with her 
 customary quickness." " The last thing he 
 attends to at Grailsea will be the business 
 that brings him there. Whenever he has 
 business to do he always puts it off to the last 
 moment — doesn't he, mamma ?" 
 
 The question roused her mother exactly as 
 Magdalen had intended it should. " Not when 
 his errand is an errand of kindness," said Mrs. 
 Vanstone. " He has gone to help the miller 
 in a very pressing difficulty — " 
 
 " And don't you know what he '11 do ?" 
 persisted Magdalen. "He '11 romp with the 
 miller's children, and gossip with the mother, 
 and hob-and-nob with the father. At the last 
 moment, when he has got five minutes left to 
 catch the train, he '11 say, ' Let 's go into the 
 counting-house and look at the books.' He '11 
 find the books dreadfully complicated ; he '11 
 suggest sending tor an accountant ; he '11 set- 
 tle the business ofl-hand by lending the montrj^, 
 in the meantime ; he '11 jog back comfortably 
 in the miller's gig ; and he '11 tell us all how 
 pleasant the lanes were in the cool of the 
 evening." 
 
 The little character - sketch which these 
 words drew was too faithful a likeness not to 
 be recognized. Mrs. Vanstone shoAved her 
 appreciation of it by a smile. " When your 
 father returns," she said, "we will put your 
 account of his proceedings to the test. I 
 think," she continued, rising languidly from 
 her chair. "I had better go indoors again 
 now, and rest on the sofa till he comes back." 
 
 The little group under the portico broke up. 
 Magdalen slipped away into the garden to 
 hear Frank's account of the interview with 
 his father. The other three ladies entered 
 the house together. When Mrs. Vanstone 
 was comfortably established on the sofa Norah 
 and Miss Garth left her to repose, and with- 
 drew to the library to look over the last parcel 
 of books from London. 
 
 It was a quiet, cloudless summer's day. The 
 heat was tempered by a light western breeze ; 
 the voices of laborers at work in a field near 
 reached the house cheerfully ; the clock-bell 
 of the village church, as it struck the quar- 
 ters, floated down the wind with a clearer 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 39 
 
 lih^, a louder ■ melody than usual. Sweet 
 odors from field and flower-garden, stealing in 
 at the open windows, filled the house with 
 their fragrance ; and the birds in -Norah's 
 aviary up stairs sang the song of their happi- 
 ness exultingly in the sun. 
 
 As the church clock struck the quarter-past 
 four the luorning-rooiu door ojwned, and ^Irs. 
 Vanstone crossed the hall alone. She had 
 tried vainly to compose herself. She was too 
 restless to "lie still and sleep. For a moment 
 she directed her steps toward the portico, then 
 turned and looked about her, doubtful where 
 to go or what to do next. Wliile she was still 
 hesitating the half-open door of her husbaiui's 
 stud)- attracted lier attention. The room 
 seemed to be in sad contusion. Drawers werc^ 
 left open ; coats and hats, account-books and 
 papers, pipes and fishing-rods were all scat- 
 tered about together. She went in and pushed 
 the door to — but so gently that she still h'tt it 
 ajar. " It will anmse me to put his room to 
 rights," she thought to hci-self " I should 
 like to do something for him before I am down 
 on my bed helpless." She began to arrange 
 his drawers, and found his banker's book lying 
 open in one of tliem. '• My poor dear, how 
 eareh^ss he is ! The servants might have seen 
 all his afiairs if I had not happened to have 
 looked in." She set the drawers right, and 
 then turned to the multifarious litter on a 
 side-table. A little old-fashioned music-book 
 appeared among the scattered pajicrs, with 
 her name written in it, in faded ink. She 
 blushed like a young girl in the first happiness 
 of the discovery. " How good he is to me ! 
 He remembers my poor old music-book, and 
 keeps it for my sake." As she sat down by 
 the table and opened the book the ])y-gone 
 time came back to her in all its tenderness. 
 The clock struck the halt-hour, struck tlie 
 three-quarters — and still she sat there, with 
 the music-book on her lap, dreaming happily 
 over the old songs ; thinking gratetully of the 
 golden days when his hand had turned the 
 pages for her, when his voice had whispered 
 the words which no woman's memory ever 
 forgets. 
 
 Norah roused herself from the volume she 
 •was reading, and glanced at the clock on the 
 library mantle-piece. 
 
 " If jiapa comes back by railway," she said, 
 " he will he here in ten minutes." 
 
 Miss (iarth started, and looked up drowsily 
 from tiie book which was just dropping out of 
 her hand. 
 
 " I don't think he will come by train," she 
 replied. "He will jog bade — as Magdalen 
 flippantly expressed it — in the miller's gig." 
 
 As she said the words there was a knock at 
 the library-floor. The footman appeared and 
 addressed himself to Miss (iarth. 
 
 " A person wishes to see you, nui'am. 
 
 " Who is it ?" 
 
 " I don't know, ma'am. A strangrer to me — 
 
 a respectable-looking man — and he said he 
 particularly wished to see you." 
 
 , Miss Garth went out into the hall. The 
 footman closed the library-door after her, and 
 withdrew down the kitchen-stairs. 
 
 The man stood just inside the door, on the 
 mat. His eyes wandered, his face was pale — 
 he looked ill ; he looked frightened. lie trilled 
 nervously with his cap, and shifted it back- 
 ward and forward, from one hand to the other. 
 
 " You wanted to sec me ?" said JMiss Garth. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ma'am. You are not 
 Mrs. Vanstone, care you '?" 
 
 " Certainly not. I am Miss Garth. Why 
 do you ask the question V" 
 
 " 1 am employed in the clerk's otlice at 
 Grailsea Station — " 
 
 " Yes ':"" 
 
 " I am sent here — " 
 
 Ho stopped again. His wandering eyes 
 looking down at the mat, and his restless 
 hands wrung his cap harder and harder. He 
 moistened his dry lips, and tried once more. 
 
 " I am sent here on a very serious errand." 
 
 " Serious to me f" 
 
 " Serious to all in this house." 
 
 Miss Garth took one step nearer to him — 
 took one steady look at his fac^e. She turned 
 cold in the summer heat. " Stop !" she said, 
 with a sudden distrust, and glanced aside 
 anxiously at the door of the morning-room. 
 It was safely closed. " Tell me the worst, 
 and don't speak loud. There has been an 
 accident. Where ?" 
 
 " (3n the railway. Close to Grailsea Station." 
 
 " The up-train to London ?" 
 
 " No: the down-train at one-fifty — " 
 
 " God Almighty help us ! The train Mr. 
 Vanstone traveled by to Grailsea ?" 
 
 " The same. I was sent here by the up- 
 train : the line was just cleared in time for it. 
 They wouldn't write ; they said I must see 
 ' ]\Iiss Garth,' and tell her. There are seven 
 passengers badly hurt, and two — " 
 
 The next word tailed on his lips: he raised 
 his hand in the dead silence. With eyes that 
 opened wide in horror, he raised his hand and 
 pointed over Miss Garth's shoulder. 
 
 She turned a little, and looked back. 
 
 Face to face with her, on the threshold of 
 the studv-door, stood the mistress of the l)ouse. 
 She held hei- old nnisi.-book clutched fast 
 mechanicallv in botli hands. She stood, the 
 spectre of herself With a drearlful vacancy 
 in her eves, with a dreadful stillness in her 
 voice, she repeated the man's last wrtrds : 
 
 " Seven passengers badly liurt, and two — " 
 
 Her tortured fingers relaxed their hold ; the 
 book dropped from them; she sank forward 
 heavilv- Mi-''^ (Jarth caught her before she 
 fell — caught her; and turned upon the man, 
 with the wife's swooning body in her arms, to 
 hear the husband's fate. 
 
 " The harm is done," she said : " you may 
 speak out. Is he wounded or dead ?" 
 
 " Dead !" 
 
40 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The sun sank lower; the western breeze 
 floatea cool and fresh into the house. As the 
 evening advanced the cheerful ring of the 
 village clock came nearer and nearer. Field 
 and flower-garden felt the influence of the 
 hour, and shed their sweetest fragrance. The 
 birds in Norah's aviary sunned themselves in 
 the evening stillness, and sang their farewell 
 gratitude to the dying day. 
 
 Staggered in its progress for a time only, 
 the pitiless routine of the house went horribly 
 on its daily way. The panic-stricken servants 
 took their blind refuge iu llie duties proper to 
 the hour. The footman softly laid the table 
 for dinner. The maid sat waiting in senseless 
 doubt, with the hot-water jugs for the bed- 
 rooms i-anged near her in their customary 
 row. The gardener, who had been ordered 
 to come to his master with vouchers for money 
 that he had paid in excess of his instructions, 
 said his character was dear to him, and left 
 the vouchers at his appointed time. Custom 
 that never yields, and death that never spares, 
 met on the wreck of humati happiness — and 
 death gave waj\ 
 
 Heavily the thunder-clouds of affliction had 
 gathered over the house — heavily, but not at 
 their darkest yet. At five that evening the 
 shock of the calamity had struck its blow. 
 Before another hour had passed the disclosure 
 of the husband's sudden death was Ibllowed 
 by the suspense of the wife's mortal peril. 
 She lay helpless on her Avidowed bed, her own 
 life and the life of her unborn child trembling 
 in the balance. 
 
 But one mind still held possession of its re- 
 sources — but one guiding spirit now moved 
 helpfully in the house of mourning. 
 
 If Miss Garth's early days had been passed 
 as calmly and as happily as her later life at 
 Combe-Raven she might have sunk under the 
 cruel necessities of the time. But the gov- 
 erness's youth had been tried in the ordeal of 
 family aflllction, and she met her terrible du- 
 ties with the steady courage of a woman Avho 
 had learned to suffer. Alone she had faced 
 the trial of telling the dauglitcrs that they 
 were fatherless. Alone she now struggled to 
 sustain them, when the dreadful i;ertainty of 
 their bereavement was at last impressed on 
 their minds. 
 
 Her least anxiety was for the elder sister. 
 The agony of Norah's grief had forced its 
 way outward to the natural relief of tears. It 
 ■was not so with Magdalen. Tearless and 
 speechless, she sat in the room where the rev- 
 elation of her father's death had first reached 
 her; her face, unnaturally petrified by the 
 sterile sorrow of old age — a white, changeless 
 blank, fearful to look at. Nothing roused, 
 nothing melted her. She only said, " Don't 
 speak to me ; don't toucli me. Let me bear it 
 by myself!" — and fell silent again. The first 
 great grief which had darkened the sisters' 
 
 lives had, as it seemed, changed their every- 
 day characters already. 
 
 The twilight fell and faded, and the summer 
 night came brightly. As the first carefully- 
 shaded light was kindled in the sick-room the 
 physician who had been summoned from Bris- 
 tol arrived to consult with the medical attend- 
 ant of the family. He could give no comfort : 
 he could only say, " We must try, and hope. 
 The shock which struck her, when she over- 
 heard the news of her husband's death, has 
 prostrated her strength at the time when she 
 needed it most. No effort to preserve her 
 shall be neglected. I will stay here for the 
 night." 
 
 He opened one of the windows to admit 
 more air as he spoke. The view overlooked 
 the drive in front of the house, and the road 
 outside. Little groups of people were stand- 
 ing before tlie lodge-gates, looking in. "If 
 those persons make any noise," said the doc- 
 tor, " they must be warned away." There 
 was no need to warn them : they were only 
 the laborers who had worked on the dead 
 man's property, and here and there some 
 women and children from the village. They 
 wei'e all thinking of him — some talking of 
 him — and it quickened their sluggish m'nds to 
 look at his house. The gentlefolks thereabout 
 were mostly kind to them (the men said), but 
 none like him. The women whispered to each 
 other of his comforting ways when he came 
 into their cottages. " He was a cheerful man, 
 poor soul, and thoughtful of us too : he never 
 came in and stared at mealtimes ; the rest of 
 'em help us, and scold us — all he ever said 
 was, better luck next time." So they stood, 
 and talked of him, and looked at his house 
 and grounds, and moved off" clumsily by twos 
 and threes, with the dim sense that the sight 
 of his pleasant face would never comfort them 
 again. The dullest head among them knew 
 that night that the hard ways of poverty 
 would be all the harder to walk on now he 
 was gone. 
 
 A little later news was brought to the bed- 
 chamber door that old Mr. Clare had come 
 alone to the house, and was waiting in the hall 
 below to hear what the physician said. Miss 
 Garth was not able to go down to him herself: 
 she sent a message. He said to the servant, 
 " I '11 come and ask again in two hours time" — 
 and went out slowly. Unlike other men in 
 all things else, the sudden death of his old 
 friend had produced no discernible change in : 
 him. The feeling implied in the errand of 
 inquiry that had brought him to the house was 
 the one betrayal of human sympathy which 
 escaped the rugged, impenetrable old man. 
 
 He came again when the two hours had 
 expired, and this time Miss Garth saw him. 
 
 They shook hands in silence. She waited ; 
 she nerved herself to hear him speak of his lost 
 fi'iend. No : he never mentioned the dreadful 
 accident, he never alluded to the dreadful 
 death. He said these words: "Is she butter, 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 41 
 
 or -worse ?" and said no mm-e. Was the tribute 
 of his prief for the husband sternly suppressed 
 under the expression of his anxiety lor the 
 wife ? Tiie nature of the man, unpliably an- 
 tagonistic to the woi-ld and the world's cus- 
 toms, misrlit justify some such interpretation 
 of his conduc"t as this. He repeated his ques- ' 
 tion. " Is she better, or worse V" 
 
 ]\Iiss Garth answered liim. 
 
 "No better; if there is any chance; it is a 
 chanjje for the worse." 
 
 Tiiev spoke these words at the window of 
 the niorninir-room which o])ene(l to the jjar- 
 den. ]Mr. Clare paused after hearinc; the re- | 
 plv to his incjuiry, stepped out on the walk, [ 
 then turned on a sudden, and spoke aijain : ; 
 
 '■ lias the doctor given lier u]i V" lie asked, i 
 
 '• He has not concealed fi-om us that she is in i 
 danger. We can only pray for her." t- 
 
 The old man laid his hand on Miss Garth'l 
 arm as she answei-ed him, and looked her atten- 
 tively in the face. 
 
 " You believe in prayer ?" he said. 
 
 Miss Garth drew sorrowfully back from 
 him. 
 
 '•You might have spared me that question. 
 Sir, at such a time as this." 
 
 He took no notice of her answer ; his eyes 
 were still tastened on her face. 
 
 " Pray," he said, " as you never prayed 
 before, ibr the preservation of Mrs. Van- 
 stone's life." 
 
 He left her. His voice and manner implied 
 some unutterable dread of the future wiiich 
 his words had not confessed. IMiss Garth fol- 
 lowed him into the garden and called to him. 
 He heard her, but he never turne<l l)ack ; he 
 cpiickened W\i pace, as if he desired to avoid 
 her. She wat<'hed him across the lawn in the 
 wai-ni summer moonlight. She saw his white 
 withered hands, saw them suddenly against 
 the black back -ground of the shrubbery, 
 raised and wrung above his head. They 
 dropped — the trees siwouded him in dark- 
 ness — he was gone. 
 
 Miss Garth went back to the snlfering. 
 woman with the burden on her mind of one 
 anxiety nion'. 
 
 It was then past eleven o'clock. Some 
 little time hail elapsed .Mnce she had seen the 
 .sisters and spoken to them. The inquiries she 
 adtiri'ssed to one of the female servants only 
 elirited the information that they were both 
 in their rooms. She delayed her return to the 
 mother'» bedside to say iier parting words of 
 comfort to the daiitriiters betore six- left them 
 for the night. Nor.di's room was the nearest. 
 She softly opened the door and looked in. 
 The kneeling figure by the Vjedside told Jut 
 that God's help had found the fatherless 
 daughter in her aflliction. Grateful tears 
 gathcrcfl in her eyes as she looked: she 
 softly closed the door. an<l went on to Mag- 
 dalen's roonj. There doubt stayed her feet 
 at the threshold, and she waited i'm- a moment 
 belbrc going in. 
 
 A sound in the room caught her car — the " 
 monotonous rustling of a woman's dress, now 
 distant, now near; passing without cessation 
 from end to end over the floor — a sound which 
 told her that Magdalen was pacing to and fro 
 in the secrecy of her own chamber. Miss 
 Garth knocked-. The rustling ceased; the 
 door was opened, and the sad younjEf' face 
 confronted her, locked in its cold despair; 
 the large light eyes looked mechanically into 
 hers, as vacant and as tearless as ever. 
 
 That look wrung tistr heart of the faithful 
 woman, who had trained her and loved her 
 from a child. She took Magdalen tenderjy ' 
 in her arms. 
 
 " Oh, my love," she said, " no tears yet ! Oh, 
 if I could see you as I have seen Norah ! Speak 
 to me, M.agdalen— try if you can speak to me !" 
 
 She tried, and h'poke : 
 
 .'' Norah," she said, " feels no remorse. He 
 was not serving Norah's interests when he 
 went to his death : he was serving mine." 
 
 With that terril)le answer she put her cold 
 lips to IMiss Garth's cheek. 
 
 " T>et me bear it by myself," she said, and 
 giMitly closed the dooi\ 
 
 Again Miss (iarth waited at the tlireshold, 
 and again the sound of the rustling dress passed 
 to and iro — now tar, now near — (o and fro 
 with a cruel, mechanical regularity that chilled 
 the warmest sympathy and daunted the bold- 
 est hope. 
 
 The night passed. It had been agreed, if 
 no change for the better showed itself by the 
 morning, that the London physician whom 
 jSIrs. Vanstone had consulted some months 
 since should be summoned to the house on the 
 next day. No change for the better appeared, 
 and the physician was sent for. 
 
 As the morning advanced Frank came to 
 make inquiries from the cottage. Had Mr. 
 Ciare intrusted to his son the duty wdiich He 
 had personally performed on the previous day, 
 through reluctance to meet ]Miss (Jarth again 
 after what he had said to her? It might be 
 so. Frank couM throw no light on the sub- 
 ject ; he was not in his father's confidence. 
 He looked pale and bewildered. His first in- 
 quiries at'ter Magdalen sliowcd how his weak 
 nature, had been shaken by the catastrophe. 
 He was not capable of framing his own ques- 
 tions: the words faltered on his lips, and tho 
 ready tears came into ins eyes. Mii^s Garth's 
 heart warmed to him for the first time. Grief 
 has this that is noVde in it — it a«;cepts all sym- 
 j)athv, come whence it may. She encouraged 
 the lad by a few kind words, and took his hand 
 at parting. 
 
 before noon Frank returned with a second 
 I message. His fatlier desired to know whether 
 Mr. Tendril was not ex])ected at Combe-Ra- 
 ven on that day. If the lawyer's arrival was 
 looked iW, Frank wa"* <iireeted to be in at- 
 tendance at th.' station, and to take him to the 
 cottage, where a. bed would be placed at his 
 disposal. This message took Miss G«rtfa by 
 
42 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 surprise. It showed that Mr. Clare had been | 
 uinde acquainted vith his dead friend's j'ur- 
 pose of sending for ]Mr. Pendril. Was the old : 
 man's thoughtful otter of hospitality another 
 indirect expression of the natural human dis- ' 
 tress v/hich he perversely comealed ? or was 
 he aware of some secret necessity for Mr. 
 Pendril's presence, of which the bereaved 
 family had been kept in total ignorance ? Miss i 
 Garth was too heart-sick and iiopelcss to <lwell 
 on either cjucstion. She tohl Frank that IMr. \ 
 Ptndril had been expected at three o'clock, 1 
 and sent him back with her thanks. 
 
 Shortly after his departure, such anxieties j 
 on Magdalen's account as her mind was now : 
 able to feel were relieved by better news than ; 
 her last night's experience had inclined her to \ 
 hope for. "Norah's intluence had been exerted ; 
 to rouse her sister, and Norah's patient sympa- j 
 thv had set the prisoned grief free. IMagdak-n j 
 had suffered severely — suffered inevitably,! 
 with such a nature as hers — in the ettbrt th;it 
 relieved her. The healing tears had not come | 
 cently; they had burst from her with a toi'tur- j 
 intr, passionate vehemence ; but Norah had i 
 ne^-er left her till the struggli^ was over and 
 the calm had come. These better tidings en- 
 couraged Miss Garth to withdraw to her own [ 
 room, and to take the rest which she needed i 
 sorely. Worn out in body and mind, she slept I 
 from sheer exhaustion — slept heavily and | 
 dreamlessly for some hours. It was between j 
 three and four in the afternoon when she was • 
 roused by one of the female servants. The | 
 Avoman had a note in her hand — a note left by [ 
 Mr. Clare the younger, with a message desiring ! 
 that it might be delivered to Miss Garth im- j 
 mediately. The name written in the lower i 
 corner of the envelope was '' William Pendril." 
 The lawyer had arrived. 
 
 Miss Garth opened the note. After a few | 
 first sentences of sympathy and condolence the 
 writer announced his arrival at Mr. Clare's, 
 and then proceeded, apparently in his pro- 
 fessional capacity, to make a very startling 
 request. 
 
 " If," he wrote, '• any change for the better 
 in Mrs. Vanstone should take place — wlu'ther 
 it is only an improvement for the time, or 
 whether it is the permanent improvement for 
 which we all hope — in cither case I entreat 
 you to let me know of it immediately. Il is of 
 .the last importance that I shouhl see her, in the 
 event of her gaining strength enough to give 
 me her attention for five minutes, and of her 
 being able at the expiration of that time to 
 sign her name. May I beg that you M-ill com- 
 municate my rcfiuest, in the strictest confi- 
 dence, to the medical men in attendance. 
 They will understand, and you will understand, 
 the vital importance I attach to this interview, 
 when I tell you that I have arranged to defer 
 to it all other business claims on me, and that 
 I hold myself in readiness to obey your sum- 
 mons at any hour of the day or night." 
 
 In those terms the letter ended. Miss Garth 
 
 read it twir-e over. At the second reading, the 
 request which the lawyer now addressed to 
 hir. and the farewell words which had escaped 
 jMr. Clare's lips the day before, connected 
 themselves vaguely in her mind. There was 
 some other serious interest in suspense, known 
 to Mr. Pendril and known to Mr. Clare, be- 
 sides tlie first and foremost interest of Mrs. 
 Yanstone's recovery. Whom did it affect? 
 The children V Were the}- threatened by some 
 new calamity which their mother's signature 
 miffht avert V What did it- mean? Did it 
 mean that Mr. Vanstone had died without 
 leaving a will ? 
 
 In iier distress and confusion of mind Miss 
 Garth was incapable of reasoning with herself 
 as she might have reasoned at a happier time. 
 She hastened to the antechandier of Mrs. j 
 Vanstonc's room, and, after explaining Mr.^l 
 Pendril's position toward the family, placed 
 his letter in the hands of the medical men. 
 Thcv both answered without hesitation to the 
 same purpose. Mrs. Yanstone's condition ren- 
 dered an}' such interview as the lawyer desired 
 a total impossibility. If she rallied from her 
 present prostration. Miss Garth should be at 
 once informed of the improvement. In the 
 meantime, the answer to ^Ir. Pendril might 
 be conveyed in one word — Impossible. 
 
 " You "see what imjiortanee IMr. Pendril at- 
 taches to the interview V" said Miss Garth. 
 Yes : both the doctois saw it. 
 " My mind is lost and confused, gentlemen, 
 in this dreadful suspense. Can you either of 
 vou guess why the signature is wanted? or 
 what'the object of the interview may b(i ? I. 
 have only seen Mi-. Pendril when he has come 
 here on formei- visits : I have no claim to jus- 
 tify me in questioning him. Will you look at 
 the letter again ? Do you think it implies 
 that Mr. Yanstone Iws never made a will ?" 
 
 "I think it can hardly imply that," said one 
 
 of the doctors. " But, even supposing Mr. 
 
 i Yanstone to have died intestate, the law takes 
 
 due care of tlie intei-ests of his widow and 
 
 his chiidren — " 
 
 " Would it do so," interposed the other 
 I medical man, " if the property happened to 
 1 be in land?" 
 
 "I am not sure in that case. Do you hap- 
 pen to know, Miss Garth, whether Mr. Yan- 
 ! stone's property was in money or in land ?" 
 
 '• In money," replied Miss Garth. " I have 
 ; heard him say so on more than one occasion." 
 i " Then I can relieve your mind by jpeaking 
 from my own experience. The law, if he has 
 , died intestate, gives a third of his property to 
 j his willow, ancrdivides the rest equally among 
 I his children." 
 
 ' " But if Mrs. Yanstone—?" 
 ' " If Mrs. Yanstone should die," pursued the 
 doctor, completing the question which Miss 
 Garth had not the lieart to conclude for her- 
 self, " I believe I am right in telling you that 
 the pro[)erty would, as a matter of legal course, 
 go to the children. Whatever necessity there 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 43 
 
 may be for the interview ^i^hich Mr. Pendril 
 ■requests, I c-an see no reason tor connecting it 
 :*itli the question of Mr. Vaustone's presumoil 
 -intestacy. But by all mnans put the question 
 for the satisfaction, of yoarown mind, to Mr. 
 Peu'lril himself.'' 
 
 Miss Garili ,withdrew to taki» the oours(! 
 whidi the doctor advised. After '.'ommuni cas- 
 ing to Mr. Pendril the medical decision which, 
 thus far, refused him the interview tliat he 
 sought, she adchul a brief stitement of the 
 legal question slie had put to the do "tors, and 
 hinted delicately at her natural anxiety to be 
 informed of the motives which hid led the 
 lawyer to make his request. The answer she 
 received was guarded in the extreme : it did 
 not impress her with a favorable opinion of 
 Mr. Pendril. He confirmed the doctors' in- 
 terpretation of the law in general term< only; 
 expressed his intention of waiting at the cot- 
 tage, in the hope that a change for the better 
 might yet enable Mrs. Vanstonc to see him; 
 and closed his letter without the slightest ex- 
 planation of his motives, and without a word 
 of reference to the (juestion of the e.xistence 
 or the non-e.xistence of Mr. Vanstone's will. 
 
 The marked caution of the lawyer's reph' 
 dwelt uneasily on Miss Garth's mind, until the 
 long-expected event of th" day recalled all 
 her thoughts to her one absorbing anxiety on 
 Mrs. Vanstone's account. 
 
 Early in tlie evening the physician iVom 
 London arrived. He watched long by the 
 bedside of tlie sulTering woman ; lu; remained 
 longer still in consultation with his medical 
 brethren ; he went back again to the sick- 
 room, before Miss Gai-th could prevail on him 
 to communicate to her the opinion at which 
 he had arrived. 
 
 When he came out into the antechamber 
 for the second time he silently took a chair 
 by her side. She looked in his face, and the 
 Last faint hope died in her before he opened 
 his lips. 
 
 " 1 must speak the hard truth," he said, 
 pently. " AH that cnn be done has be6n done. 
 Tiic next four-and-twenly hours, at most, will 
 end your suspense. If Nature makes no elfort 
 in that time — I grieve to say it — you must 
 prepare yourself for the worst.'' 
 
 Those words said all : they were prophetic 
 of the end. 
 
 The night passed, and she lived through it. 
 The next day came, and she lingered on till 
 the clock pointed to five. At tliat lioiir the 
 tidings ot' her husbands death had dealt 
 the mortal blow. When the hour eani'; round 
 again, the mercy of (Jod let her go to him in 
 the better world. Her daughters were kneel- 
 ing at the bedside as her spirit passed awav. 
 She left them unconscious of their presence, 
 mercifully and ha])j)ily insensible to the pang 
 of the la>t farewell, i 
 
 Her child survived her till the evening was 
 on the wane, aud the sunset was dim in the ' 
 
 quiet western heaven. As the darkhess came, 
 the light of the frail little life — faint and 
 feeble from the first — flickered and went out. 
 AH that wcis earthly of mother and child lay 
 that night on the same bed. The Angel of 
 Death had done his awful bidding, and the 
 two Sisters were left alone in the world. 
 
 CHAPTER Xri. 
 
 Earlier than usual, on the morning of 
 Thursday, the twenty-third of July, Mr. Clare 
 appeared at the do:ir of his cottage, and 
 stepptul out into the little strip of garden at- 
 tached to his residence. 
 
 After he had taken a few turns backward 
 aud forward alone, he was joined by a spare, 
 quiet, gray-haired imn, whose personal ap- 
 pear.vni-e was totally devoid of marked char- 
 acter of any kind ; whose inexpressive face 
 and conventionally quiet manner presented 
 nothing that attracted approval, and nothing 
 that inspired dislike. Tais was Mr. Pendril 
 — this was the man on who-se lips hung the 
 future of the orphans at Coml)c-R,iven. 
 
 " The time is getting on, ' he said, looking 
 toward the shrubbery, as he joined Mr. Clare. 
 " My appointmmt with Miss Garth is for 
 eleven o'clock ; it only wants ten minutes of 
 the hour," 
 
 " Are you to see her alone ?" asked Mr, 
 Clare. 
 
 " I left Miss Garth to decide — after warn- 
 ing her first of all that the circumstances I am 
 compelled to disclose are of a very serious 
 nature." 
 
 " And has she derided ?" 
 
 " She writes me word that she mentioned 
 my appointment, and repeated the warning I 
 had given her to both the daughters. The 
 eliler of the two shrinks — and who can won- 
 der at it — t'rom any discussion connected 
 with the future which requires her presence 
 so soon as the day after the funeral. Tiie 
 younger one appears to have expressed no 
 opinion on the subject. As I un<lerstand it, 
 she suffers herself to be passively guided by 
 her sister's example. My interview, there- 
 fore, will take place with Miss Garth alone — 
 and it is a very great relief to me to know it." 
 
 He spoke the last words with more empha- 
 sis and energv than semed habitual to him. 
 Mr. Clare stopped, and looked at his guest 
 attentively. 
 
 " You are almost as old as % am, S'lr," he 
 said. " Has all your long experience as a 
 lawyer not hardened you yet ?" 
 
 " I never knew how little it had hardened 
 me," replied Mr. Pemlril, quietly, " until I re- 
 turned from London yesterday to attend the 
 funeral. I wa? not warned that the daughters 
 had resolved on following their parents to the 
 grave. I think their presence made the closing 
 scene of this dreadful calamity doubly painfuL 
 
44 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 and doubly touch! n<j. You saw how the great 
 concourse of people Avere moved by it — and 
 tliey Avere in lonorance of the ti-uth ; Ihcji 
 knew nothing of the cruel necessity Avhich 
 takes me to the house this morning. The 
 sense of that necessity— and the sight of those 
 poor girls at the time, when I felt my hard 
 duty toward them most painfully — shook me 
 as a man of my years and my way of life is 
 not often shaken by any distress in the pres- 
 ent, or any suspense in the futuro. I have 
 not recovered it this morning; 1 hardly feel 
 sure of myself yet." 
 
 " A man's composure — when he is a man 
 like you — comes with the necessity for it," 
 said Mr. Clare. "'You must have had duties 
 to perform as trying in their way as the duty 
 that lies before you this morning." 
 
 Mr. Pendril shook his head. " Many duties 
 as serious ; many stories more romantic. No 
 duty so trying, no story .so hopeless as this." 
 
 With those words they parted. ]Mr. Pendril 
 left the garden for the shrubbdr}- jiath which 
 led to Combe-Raven, Llr. Clare rerurned to 
 the cottage. 
 
 On reaching the passage he looked through 
 the open door of his little parlor, and saAv 
 Frank sitting' there in idle wretchedness, with 
 his head resting wearliy on his hand. 
 
 " I have had an answer from your employers 
 in London," said Mr. Clare. " In considera- 
 tion of what has happened, they will allow the 
 offer they made you to stand over for another 
 month." 
 
 Frank changed color, and rose nervously 
 from his chair. 
 
 " Are rfiy prospects altered V" he asked. 
 " Are Mr. Vanstone's plans ibr me not to be 
 carried out ? He told Magdalen his will had 
 provided for her. She repeat<Hl his words to 
 me; she saifl I ought to know all that his good- 
 ness and generosity had done for both of us. 
 How can his death make a change V Has 
 anything happened ? 
 
 '• Wait till Mr. Pendril comes back from 
 Combe-Uaven," said his father. •' Question 
 him ; don't question me." 
 
 The ready tears rose in Frank's eyes. 
 
 " You won't be hard on me ?" he pleaded 
 faintly. " You won't expect me to go back to 
 London without seeing Magdalen lii'st V" 
 
 Mr. Clare looked thoughtfully at his son, 
 and considered a little, before he replied. 
 
 " You may dry your eyes," he said. " You 
 shall see MagUalcn before you go back." 
 
 He left the room after making that reply, 
 and withdrew to his study. The books lay 
 ready to his hand, as usual. He opened one 
 of them, and set himself to read in the c^is- 
 tomary manner. But his attention wandered, 
 and his eyes strayed away from time to time 
 to the empty chair opposite — the chair in 
 Avhich his old friend and gossip had sat and 
 wrangled with him good-humoredly for many 
 and many a year past. After a struggle with 
 himself he closed the book. " Damn the 
 
 chair !" he said : " it xoill talk of him, and I 
 must' listen." He reached down his pipe from 
 the wall, and mechanically filled it with to-, 
 barco. His hand shook, his eyes wandered, 
 back to the old place, and a heavy sigh came 
 from him unwillingly. That empty chair was 
 the only earthly argument ibr which he had no 
 answer: his heart owned its defeat, and moist- 
 ened his eyes in spite of him. " He has got 
 the better of me at last," said the rugged old 
 man." " There is one weak place left in me 
 still, and lie has found it." 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Pendril entered the shrub- 
 bery, and followed the path which led to the 
 lonely garden and the desolate house. He 
 was met at the door by the man-servant, who 
 Avas apparently Avaiting in expectation of his 
 arrival. 
 
 "I have an appointment Avith Miss Garth. 
 Is she ready to see me '?" 
 
 " Quite ready, Sir." 
 
 "Is she alone V" 
 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 >' In the room Avhich was ^Ir. Vanstone's 
 study ?" 
 
 ■• In that room. Sir." 
 
 The servant opened the door, and Mr. Pen- 
 dril went in. 
 
 The governess stood alone at the study 
 window. The morning was oppressively hot, 
 and she threAv up the lower sash to admit 
 more air into the room as Mr. Pendril came in. 
 
 They bowed to each other with a formal 
 politeness which betrayed on either side an 
 uneasy sense of restraint. Mr. Pendril was 
 one of the 'many men Avho appear su]ieriicially 
 to the Avorst advantage under the inlluence of 
 strong mental agitation Avhich it is. necessary 
 for them to control. Miss Garth, on her side, 
 had not forgotten the ungraciously guarded 
 terms in Avhich the lawyer had replied to her 
 letter ; and the natural anxiety Avhich she felt 
 on the subject of the iatervicAv was not re- 
 lieved hj any favorable opinion of the man 
 who sought it. As they confronted each other 
 in the silence of the summer's morning — l)Oth 
 dressed in black : Miss Garth's hard features 
 gaunt and haggard Avith grief; the lawyer's 
 cold, colorless face, void of all marked expres- 
 sion, suggestive of a business embarrassment 
 and of nothing more — it Avould have been 
 hard to find two persons less attractive exter- 
 nally to any ordinary sympathies than the two 
 Avho had noAV met together — the one to tell, 
 the other to hear, the secrets of the dead. 
 
 " I am sincerely sorry. Miss Garth, to in- 
 trude on you at such a time as this. But cir- 
 cumstances, as I have already explained, leave 
 meno other choice." 
 
 "' Will you take a seat, Mr. Pendril ? You 
 wished to see me in this room, I believe ?" 
 
 " Only in this room because Mr. Vanstone's 
 papers are kept here, and I may find it neces- 
 sary to refer to some of them." 
 
 After that formal interchange of questio|i 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 45 
 
 and answer, they sat down on either side of a 
 table placed close under the window. One 
 waited to speak, the other waited to hear. 
 There was a momentary silence. Mr. Pendril 
 broke it by referring to the young ladies with 
 the customary in()uiries and the customary 
 expressions of sympathy. Miss Garth an- 
 swered him with the same ceremony, in the 
 same conventional tone. Tiiere was a second 
 pause ot silence. The humming of Hies among 
 the evergreen shrubs under the window pene- 
 trated drowsily into tlie room, and the tramp 
 of a heavy-tooted cart-horse, ])lodding along 
 the high-road beyond the garden, was as 
 plainly" audible in the stillness as if it had 
 been night. 
 
 The lawyer roused his (lagging resolution, 
 and spoke to the ]iurpose when he spoke next. 
 
 '• You have some reason, Miss Garth," he 
 began, " to I'eel not quite satisfied with my 
 past con<hict toward you in one particulai-. 
 During Mrs. Yanstonc's fatal illness you ad- 
 dressed a letter to me, making certain inrpii- 
 ries, which, wiiile she lived, it was impossible 
 for me to answer. Her deplorable deatii re- 
 leases me from the restraint which I had im- 
 posed on myself, and permits — or, more ])rop- 
 erl_v, obliges me to speak. You shall know 
 what serious 7-easons I had for waiting day 
 and night, in the hope of obtaining that inter- 
 view which unhappily never took place; and 
 in justice to Mr. Yanstoue's memory, your 
 own eA'es shall inlbrm vou that he made his 
 will." ■ 
 
 He rose, unlocked a little iron safe in the 
 corner of the room, and returned to the 
 table with some folded sheets of paper, wliich 
 he spread open und^- ]\Iiss Garth's eyes. 
 When she had read the first words, •• In the 
 name of God, Amen." he turned the sheet, 
 and pointed to the end of the next page. She 
 saw the well-known signature, "Andrew ^'an- 
 stone." She saw the customary attestations of 
 the two witnesses, and the date of the docu- 
 ment, reverting to a period of more than five 
 years since. Having thus convinced her of 
 tiie formality of the will, the lawyer interposed 
 before slie could question him, and addressed 
 her in these words : 
 
 " I must not deceive you," he said. " I have 
 my own reasons for producing this document." 
 
 " What reasons, SirV" 
 
 " You shall hear them. When you are in 
 possession of the truth, these pages may help 
 to ])reserve your respect for ^Ir. A'anstone's 
 memory — " 
 
 Miss Garth started back in her chair. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" she asked, vith a 
 stern straightforwardness. 
 
 He took no heed of the question; be went 
 on as if she had not interrupted him. 
 
 " I have a secoinl reason," he continued, 
 " for showing you the will. If I can prevail 
 on you to read certain clauses in it, under my 
 superintendence, you will make your own dis- 
 covery of the circumstances which I am here 
 
 to disclose — ^circumstances so painful that I 
 hardly know how to communicate them to 
 you with m}' own lips." 
 
 Miss Garth looked him steadfastly in the 
 face. 
 
 " Circumstances, Sir, which affect the dead 
 parents or the living children V" 
 
 •'Which affect the dead and the living 
 both," answered the lawyer. " Circumstances, 
 I grieve to say, which involve the future of 
 Mr. Yanstoue's unhapi)y daughters." 
 
 " Wait, ' said Miss Garth — " wait a little." 
 She pushed her gray hair back from her tem- 
 ples, and struggled with the sickness of heart, 
 the dreadful faintness of terror, which would 
 have over])owered a younger or a less resolute 
 woman. Her eye^, dim with watching, weary 
 Avitii grief, searched the lawyer's unfathomable 
 face. •' His unhappy daughters ?" she repeated 
 to herself, vacantly. " He talks as if there 
 was some worse <'alamity than the calamity 
 which has made them or]>hans." She paused 
 once more, and rallied iier sinking courage. 
 " I will not make your hard duty, Sir, more 
 painful to you than lean help," she resumed. 
 " Show me the place in the will. Let me 
 read it, and know the worst." 
 
 INIr. Pendril turned back to the first page, 
 and pointed to a certain place in the cramped 
 lines of writing. '• Begin here," he said. 
 
 She tried to begin ; she tried to follow his 
 finger, as she had followed it ali-eady to the 
 signatures and the dates. But her senses 
 seemed to share the confusion of her mind — 
 the words mingled together, and the lines 
 swam before her eyes. 
 
 '' I can't follow you," she said. " You must 
 tell it, or read it to me." She pushed her 
 chair back from the table, and tried to col- 
 lect herself. '' Stop !" she exclaimed, as the 
 lawyer, with visible hesitation and reluctance, 
 took the papers in his own hand. " One 
 (juestion first. Does his will provide for his 
 children V" 
 
 " His will provided for them when he made 
 it." 
 
 " When he made it?" (Something of her 
 natural bluntness broke out in her manner as 
 she repeated the answer.) " Docs it provide 
 for them now V" 
 
 " It does not." 
 
 She snatched the will from his hand and 
 threw it into a corner of the room. " You 
 mean well," she said; '-you wish to spare 
 me ; l)ut you are wasting your time and my 
 strength. If the will is useless, there let it 
 lie. Tell me the truth. Mr. Pendril — tell it 
 plainlv, tell it instantly, in your own words I" 
 
 He felt that it would be useless cruelty to 
 resist that apjjcal. There was no merciful 
 alternative but to answer it on the spot. 
 
 " I must refer you to the spring of the 
 present year, Miss (iarth. Do you remember 
 the fourth of March V" 
 
 Her attention wandered again; a thought 
 seemed to have itruuk her at the moment 
 
46 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 when he spoke. Instead of answering his 
 inquiry she put a question of her own. 
 
 " Let me break the news to myself," she 
 said — "let me anticipate you, if lean. His 
 useless will, the terms in which yau speak of 
 his daughters, the doubt you seem to feel of 
 my continued respect for his memory, have 
 opened a new view to me. Mr. Vanstone has 
 died a ruined man — is that what you had to 
 tell me ?" 
 
 •' Far from it. Mr. Vanstone has died leav- 
 ing a fortune of more than eighty thousand 
 pounds — a fortune invested in excellent secu- 
 rities. He lived up to his income, but never 
 beyond it; and all liis debts adiled together 
 would not reach two hundred pounds. If he 
 had died a ruined man, I should have felt 
 deeply for his children — but I should not have 
 hesitated to tell you the truth, as I am hesi- 
 tating now. Let me repeat a (juestion which 
 escaped you, I think, when I first put it. 
 Carry your mind back to the spring of this 
 year. Do vou remember the fourth of 
 March?" 
 
 Miss Garth shook her liead. " My memory 
 for dafcs is bad at the best of times," she said. 
 " I am too confused to exert it at a moment's 
 notice. Can you put your question in no 
 other form ?" 
 
 He put it in this form : 
 
 " Do you remember any domestic event in 
 the s[)ring of the present year which appeared 
 to affect Mr. Vanstone more seriously than 
 usual y" 
 
 Miss (Jarth leaned forward in her chair, 
 and looked eagerly at Mr. Pendril across 
 the table. •' The journey to London !" she 
 exclaimed. " I distrusled the journey to Lon- 
 don from the first ! Yes ! I remember Mr. 
 A'anstone receiving a letter — I rcmemlicr his 
 reading it, and looking so altered from iiimself 
 that he startled us all." 
 
 " Did you notice any apparent understand- 
 ing between Mr. and Mrs. Vanstone on the 
 subject of tiiat letter V" 
 
 '•Yes, I did. One of the girls — it was 
 Magdalen — mentioned the post-mark; some 
 place in America. It all comes back to me, 
 Mr. Pendril. Mrs. A^'anstone looked excited 
 and anxious the moment she heard the place 
 named. They went to London to^rether the 
 next day; they explained nothing to their 
 daughters, nothing to me. Mrs. Vanstone 
 said the journey was for family aflairs. I 
 suspected something wi'ong ; I i;ouldn't tell 
 what. ]\Irs. Vanstone wrote to me from Lon- 
 ■don, saying tiiat her object was to consult a 
 physician on tlie state of her health, and not to 
 alarm her daugliters by telling them. Some- 
 thing in the letter rather hurt me at the time. 
 I thought there miglit be some other motive 
 that she was keeping from me. Did I do her 
 wrong V" 
 
 " Y''ou did her no wrong. There was a motive 
 Trhich she was keeping from you. In reveal- 
 ing that motive I reveal the painful secret 
 
 which brinijs me to this house. All that I 
 could do to prepare you I have done. Let 
 me now tell the truth in the plainest and 
 fewest words. When Mr. and Mrs. Vanstone 
 left Combe-Raven, in the March of the present 
 year — " 
 
 Before he could complete the sentence a 
 sudden movement of Miss Garth's interrupted 
 him. She started violently and looked round 
 toward the window. •' Only the wind among 
 the leaves," she said, faintly. " My nerves 
 are so shaken the least thing startles me. 
 Speak out, for God's sake ! When Mr. and 
 !^lrs. Vanstone left this house — tell me in 
 plain words — why did they go to London ?" 
 
 In plain words Mr. Pemlril told her : 
 
 '* They went to London to be married." 
 
 With that answer he placed a slip of paper 
 on the table. It was the marriage certificate 
 of the dead parents, and the date it bore was 
 March the twentieth, eighteen hundred and 
 forty-six. 
 
 Miss Garth neither moved nor spoke. The 
 certifiL-ate lay beneath her unnoticed. She 
 sat with her eyes rooted on the lawyer's face ; 
 her mind stunned, her senses helpless. He 
 saw that all his eflforts to break tlie shock of 
 the discovery had been efforts made in vain ; 
 he felt the vital importance of rousing her, 
 and firndy and distinctly repeated the fatal 
 words. 
 
 " Tiioy went to London to be married," he 
 saH. '• Try to rouse yourself: try to realize 
 tlie plain fact first: the explanation shall 
 come afterward. Miss Garth, I speiik the 
 miserable truth ! In the spring of this year 
 they left home ; they lived in London for a 
 fortniglit, in the strictest retirement ; they 
 were married by license at the end of that 
 time. There is a copy of the certificate, 
 which I mj'self obtained on Monday last. 
 Read the date of the marriage for yourself 
 It is Friday, the twentieth of March — the 
 ilarch of this present year." 
 
 As he pointed to the certificate that faint 
 breath of air among the shrubs ])eneath the 
 window which had startled Miss Garth stirred 
 the leaves once more. He heard it him- 
 self this time, and turned liis face so as to let 
 the breeze ])lay upon it. No breeze came, no 
 breatli of air that was strong enough for him 
 to feel floated into the room. 
 
 INIiss Garth roused herself mechanically and 
 read the certificate. It seemed to produce no 
 distinct impression on her : she laid it on one 
 side in a lost, bewildered manner. " Twelve 
 years," she said, in low, hopeless tones — 
 " twelve quiet ha]jpy years I lived with this 
 family. Mrs. Vanstone was my friend ; my 
 dear, valued friend — my sister, I might almost 
 say. I can't believe it. Bear with me a little, 
 Sir ; I can't believe it yet." 
 
 " I shall help you to believe it when I tell 
 you more," said Mr. Pendril — "you will un-„ 
 derstand me better when I take you back to 
 the time of Mr, Vanstone's early life. I won't 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 47 
 
 a?k for your attention just yet. Let us wait a 
 littk' until you recover yourself." 
 
 Tlu'y waited a few minutes. The lawyer 
 took some letters from his poeket, referred to 
 them attentively, and put them back again. 
 " Can you listen to mo now '?" he asked, 
 kindly.^ She bowed her head in answer. Mr. 
 Pendril considered with himself tor a moment. 
 " I must eaution j'ou on one point," he said. 
 " If tlie aspect of ilr. A^anstone's ehai-acter 
 IL whirli I am now about to present to you seems 
 in some respects at variance with your later 
 experience, bear in mind that when you first 
 knew liim twelve years since he was a man of 
 forty, and that when I first knew him he was 
 a Ind of nineteen." 
 
 Ilis next words raised the veil, and showed 
 the irrevocable Past. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " The fortune which Mr. Vanstone possessed 
 when you knew him" (the lawyer began) 
 " was part, and part only, of the inheritance 
 which fell to him on his father's deatli. INIr. 
 A'anstone the elder was a manufacturer in the 
 north of England. lie married early in life: 
 and the children of the marriage were either 
 six or seven iu number — I am not certain 
 wliiih. First, Michael, the eldest son, still 
 living, and now an old man turned seventy. 
 Secondly. Selina, the eldest dauirhtcr, who 
 married in after-life, and who died ten or 
 eleven years ago. After those two came other 
 sons and daughters whose early deaths make 
 it unnecessary to mention them particularly. 
 The last, and V)y many years the youngest of 
 the children, was Andrew, whom I first knew, 
 as I told you. at the age of nineteen. My 
 father was then on the jioint of retiring from 
 the active pursuit of his profession, and in suc- 
 ceeding to his business I also succeeded t6 his 
 connection ^vith the Yanstones as the family 
 solicitor. 
 
 " At that time Andrew had just started in 
 life by entering the army. After little more 
 than a year of home-service he was ordered 
 out with his regiment to Canada. When he 
 quitted Kn.danil he left his father and his elder 
 brother Miehael .seriously at variance. I need 
 not detain you by enterinfj into the cause of 
 the quarrel. I need only tell you that the 
 ehler Mr. Vanstone, witlt many excellent 
 qualities, was a man of fierce and intractable 
 temper. His eldest son had set him at defi- 
 ance, under circumstances wliich might have 
 justly irritated a father of far milder charac- 
 ter : anil he declared in tin- most positive terms 
 tliat he would never see Michael'!* face again. 
 In defiance of my entreaties and of the en- 
 treaties of" his wife he tore up. in our presence, 
 the will which provided for Micha-'l's share in 
 the paternal inheritance. Such was the family 
 
 position when the younger son left home for 
 Canada. 
 
 " Some months after Andrew's arrival with 
 his regiment at Quebec he became acquainted 
 with a woman of great personal attractions, 
 who came, or said she came, from one of the 
 Southern States of America. She obtained 
 an immediate influence ov(>r him, and she used 
 it to the basest purpose. You knew the easy, 
 afTcctionate, trusting nature of the man in 
 later life — you can imagine how thouirhtlesslv 
 he acted on the impulses of his youth. It is 
 useless to dwell on this lamentable part of the 
 story. He was just twentj'-one : he was blindly 
 devoted to a worthless woman ; and she led 
 him on with merciless cunning, till it was too 
 late to draw bai-k. In one word, he committed 
 the fatal error of his life — he married her. 
 
 " She had been wise enough in her own in- 
 terests to dread the influence of his brother 
 officers, and to persuade him, up to the jieriod 
 of the marriage ceremony, to keep the pro- 
 posed union between them a secret. She 
 could do this, but she could not provide against 
 the results of accident. Hardly three months 
 liad passed when a chance disclosure expo.sed 
 the life slie had led before her marriage. But 
 one alternative was left to her husband — the 
 alternative of instantly separating from her. 
 
 " The eflect of the discovery on the unhappy 
 boy — tor a boy in disposition he still was — may 
 be judged by the event which followed the ex- 
 posure. One of Andrew's superior officers 
 found him in his quarters writing to his father 
 a confession of the disgraeeful truth with a 
 loaded pistol by his side. That officer saved 
 the lad's life from his own hand, and hushed 
 up the scandalous affair by a compromise. The 
 marriage being a perfectly legal one. and the 
 wife's misconduct prior to the ceremony giving 
 her hu.sband no claim to his relea.se from her 
 by divorce, it was only possible to appeal to 
 her sense of her own interests. A handsome 
 annual allowance was secured to her on con- 
 dition that she returned to the place from 
 which she had come, that she never appeared 
 in Englaiul, and that she ceased to use her 
 husband's name. Other stipulations were 
 added to these. She acc^-pted them all, and 
 I measures were privately taken to have her 
 well looked after in the place of her retreat. 
 What life she led then;, and wliether she per- 
 formed all the conililions imposed on her, I 
 cannot say. I can only tell you that she never, 
 to my knowledge, came to England ; that she 
 never annoyed Mr. Van.'stone ; and that the 
 annual allowance was paid her, through a local 
 a^ent in America, to the day of her death. 
 All that she wanted in raarryinjj him was 
 money, and moni-y ^he got. 
 
 " In the meantime Andn-w hail left the reg- 
 I inient. Nothing would induce him to face 
 I his brother officer.* aCUT what lutd happened. 
 He sold out and returned to England. The 
 first intelligence wliich reached hmi on his re- 
 turn was the intelligence of hu father's death. 
 
48 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 He came to my office in London before going 
 home, and there learned from my lips how the 
 family quarrel had ended. 
 
 "The -will which Mr. Vanstone the elder 
 had destroyed in my presence had not been, so 
 far as I knew, replaced by another. When I 
 was sent for, in the usual course, on his death, 
 I fully expected that the law would be left to 
 make the customary division among his widow 
 and his children. To my surjirise a will ap- 
 peared among his papers, correctly drawn and 
 executed, and dated about a week after the 
 period when the first will had been destroyed. 
 He had maintained his vindictiye purpose 
 against his eldest son, and had applied to a 
 stranger for the professional assistance which 
 I honestly believe he was ashamed to ask for 
 at my hands. 
 
 " It is needless to trouble you with the pro- 
 visions of the will in detail. There were the 
 widow and three surviving children to be pro- 
 vided ibr. The widow received a life-interest 
 only in a portion of the testator's property. 
 The remaining portion was divided between 
 Andrew and Selina — two-thirds to the brother, 
 one-third to the sister. On the mother's death, 
 the money from which her income had been 
 derived was to go to Andrew and Selina, in 
 the same relative proportions as before — five 
 thousand pounds having been first deducted 
 from the sum and paid to Michael as the sole 
 legacy lelt by the implacable father to his eld- 
 est son. 
 
 •' Speaking in round numbers, the division 
 of property, as settled by the will, stood thus : 
 Before the mother's death Andrew had seventy 
 thousand pounds ; Selina had thirty-five thou- 
 sand pounds; Michael had nothing. After the 
 mother's death Michael had five thousand 
 pounds, to set against Andrew's inheritance 
 augmented to one hundred thousand, and Se- 
 lina's inheritance increased to fifty thousand. 
 Do not suppose that I am dwelling unnecessa- 
 rily on this part of the subject. Every word 
 I now speak bears on interests still in suspense, 
 which vitally concern Mr. Vanstone's daugh- 
 ters. As we get on from past to present, keep 
 in mind the terrible ine({uality of Michael's 
 inheritance and Andrew's inheritance. The 
 harm done by that vindictive will is, I greatly 
 fear, not over yet. 
 
 " Andrew's first impulse, when he heard 
 the news which I had to tell him, was worthy 
 of the open, generous nature ot' the man. He 
 at once proposed to divide his inheritance with 
 his elder brother. But there was one serious 
 obstacle in the way. A letter from Michael 
 was waiting for him at my office when he 
 came there, and that letter charged him with 
 being the original cause of estrangement be- 
 tween his father and his elder brother. The 
 efforts wiiich he had made — bluntly and in- 
 cautiously I own, but with the purest and 
 kindest intentions, as I know — to compose the 
 (juarrel before leaving home, were perverted 
 by the vilest misconstruction to support an ac- 
 
 cusation of treachery and falsehood which 
 would have stung any man to the quick. An- 
 drew felt, what I felt, that if these imputa- 
 tions were not withdrawn before his generous 
 intentions toward his brother took eifect the 
 mere fact of their execution would amount to 
 a practical acknowledgment of the justice of 
 Michael's charge against him. He wrote to 
 his brother in the most forbearing terms. The 
 answer received was as offensive as words 
 could make it. Michael had inherited his 
 father's temper, unredeemed by his father's 
 better qualities : his second letter reiterated 
 the charges contained in the first, and de- 
 clared that he Avould only accept the offered 
 division as an act of atonement and restitu- 
 tion on Andrew's part. I next wrote to the 
 mother to use her influence. She was herself 
 aggrieved at being left with nothing more 
 than a life-interest in her husband's property ; 
 she sided resolutely with Michael ; and she 
 stigmatized Andrew's proposal as an attempt 
 to bribe her eldest sou into withdrawing a 
 charge against his brother, which that brother 
 knew to be true. After this last repulse noth- 
 ing more could be done. Michael withdrew 
 to the Continent, and his mother followed him 
 there. She lived long enough, and saved 
 money enough out of her income to add con- 
 siderably at her death to her elder son's five 
 thousand pounds. He had previously still 
 further improved his pecuniary position by 
 an advantageous marriage ; and he is now 
 passing the close of his days either in France 
 or Switzerland — a Avidower with one son. 
 We shall return to him shortly. In the mean- 
 time I need only tell you that Andrew and 
 Michael never again met — never again com- 
 municated even by writing. To all intents 
 and purposes they were dead to each other 
 from those early days to the present time. 
 
 " You can now estimate what Andrew's po- 
 sition was when he left his profession and 
 returned to England. Possessed of a fortune, 
 he was alone in the world ; his future de- 
 stroyed at the fair outset of life ; his mother 
 and brother estranged from him ; his sister 
 lately married, with interests and hopes in 
 which he had no share. Men of firmer mental 
 calibre might have found refuge from sUch a 
 situation as this in an absorbing intellectual 
 pursuit. He was not capable of the effort ; 
 all the strength of his character lay in the 
 affections he had wasted. His place in the 
 world was that quiet place at home, with wife 
 and children to make his life happy, which he 
 had lost for ever. To look back was more than 
 he dare. To look forward was more than he 
 could. In sheer despair he let his own im- 
 petuous youth drive him on, and cast him- 
 self into the lowest dissipations of a London life. 
 
 " A woman's falsehood had driven him to 
 his ruin. A woman's love saved him at the 
 outset of his downward career. Let us not 
 speak of her harshly — for we laid her witli 
 him yesterday in the grave. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 49 
 
 " Tou, who only kneir Mrs. Vanstone in 
 later life, when illness, and sorroAV, and secret 
 care had altered and saddened her, can lorm 
 no adequate idea of her attractions of person 
 and character when she was a girl of seven- 
 teen. I was with Andrew when he first met 
 her. I had tried to rescue him, for one night 
 at least, from degrading associates and de- 
 grading pleasures by persuading him to go 
 with me to a ball given by one of the great 
 City Companies. There they met. She pro- 
 duced a strong impression on liim the moment 
 he saw her. To me, as to him. she was a total 
 Stranger. An introduction to her, obtained in 
 the customary manner, informed liim that she 
 was the daughter of or.e ]\Ir. Bl.ike. The rest 
 he discovered from herself They were part- 
 ners in the dance (unobserved in that crowded 
 ball-room) all through the evening. 
 
 " Circumstances were against her from the 
 first. She was unliappy at home. Her family 
 and frien<ls oi'cuj)ied no recognized station in 
 life: tliey were mean, underliand ]>eopIe. in 
 every way unworthy of her. It was her first 
 ball — it was the first time /lie had ever met 
 with a man who had the breeding, the man- 
 ners, and the conversation of a gentleman. 
 Are these excuses for her which I have no 
 right to make ? If we have any human feel- 
 ing for human weakness, surely not ! 
 
 " The meeting of that night decided their 
 future. When other meetings had followed, 
 when the confession of her love had escaped 
 her, lie took the one course of all otiiers (took 
 it innocently and unconsciously) which was 
 most dangerous to them both. His frankne.-<8 
 and bis sense of honor forbade him to deceive 
 her : he o])ened his heart and told her the 
 truth. She was a generous, impulsive girl ; 
 she had no home-lies strong enough to ]>lead 
 with her ; she was passionately ibnd of him — 
 and he bad made that appeal to her pity, 
 which, to the eternal honor of women, is tin; 
 hardest of all appeals for them to resist. She 
 saw, and saw truly, that she alone stood be- 
 tween him and his ruin. The last chance of 
 his rescue iinng on her decision. She decided, 
 and saved him. 
 
 " Let me not be misunderstood ; let me not 
 bo accused of trifling with the serious social 
 question on v.hiih my narrative forces me to 
 touch. I will defend her UKrmory by no false 
 reasoning — I will only speak the truth. It is 
 the trutli that slu^ snatched him from mad ex- 
 cesses which nuist have ended in his early 
 death. It is the trutli that she restored him 
 to that happy home-existt'iice wliich you re- 
 member so tenderly — wiiich he remembered so 
 gratefully that, on the day when he was free, 
 he made her his wife. Let strict morality 
 ••laim its right, and condenm her early fault. 
 I have read my New Testament to little pur- 
 pose indeed if Christian mercy may not soften 
 the hard sentence against her — if ChrLstian 
 charity may not find a plea for ber memory in 
 7 
 
 the love and fidelity, the suffering and the 
 sacrifice, of her whole life. 
 
 "A few words more will bring us to a later 
 time, and to events which have happened with- 
 in your own experien.^e. 
 
 '^ I need not remind you that the position in 
 which ;Mr. Vanstone was now placed could 
 lead in the end to but one result — to a dis- 
 closure, more or less inevitable, of the truth. 
 Attempts were made to keep the hopeless 
 misfortune of his life a secret from Miss 
 Blake's family ; and, as a matter of conrse, 
 thos(' attempts failed before the relentless 
 scrutiny of her father and her friends. What 
 might liave happened if her relatives had been 
 what is termed 'respectable,' I can not pre- 
 tend to say. As it was, they were people wlio 
 could (in the common jihrase) be conveniently 
 treated with. The only survivor of the family 
 at the present time is a scoundrel calling him- 
 self Captain Wragge. When I tell you that 
 he privately extorted the price of his silence 
 frou) Mrs. Vanstone to the last; and when I 
 add that his conduct presents no extraordinary 
 ext^eption to the conduct, in their lifetime, of 
 the other relatives, you will understand what 
 sort of people I had to deal witli in my client's 
 interests, and how their assumed indignation 
 was appeased. 
 
 " Having, in the first instance, left England 
 for Ireland, Mr. Vanstone and Miss Blake re- 
 mained there aflerward for some vears. (Jirl 
 as she was, she faced lier position and its 
 necessities without flinching. Having once 
 resolved to sacrifice her life to the man she 
 loved: having (juieted her conscience by per- 
 suading ht'rself tha,t his marriage was a legal 
 mockery, and that she was ' his wife in the 
 sight of Heaven,' she set herself from the firet 
 to accomplish the one foremost jmrpose of so 
 living with him, in the world's eye, as never to 
 raise the suspicion that she was not his lawful 
 wife. T!ie women are few indeed Who can 
 not resolve firmly, scheme patienMy, and act 
 promptly, where the d;'arest interests of their 
 lives are concerned. ]\Irs. Vanstone — she has 
 a right now. remember, to that name — Mrs, 
 "Vanstone had more than the average share of 
 a woman's tenacity and a woman's tact; and 
 she took all the needful precautions, in those 
 early days, wlii<-h her husband's less ready 
 capacity had not the art to devise — precau- 
 tions to which they were largely indebted for 
 the preservation of their secret in later times. 
 
 "Thanks to these safeguards, not a shadow 
 of suspicion followed them when they returned 
 to England. They first settled in Devon- 
 shire, merely because tht'y were far removed 
 there from that northern county in which Mr. 
 Vanstone's family ami connections had been 
 known. On the part of his surviving relatives 
 thev had no c\n-ious investigations to dread. 
 He was totally estranged from his mother and 
 his elder brother. His married sister had 
 been forbidden by ber husband (who was a 
 
50 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 clergyman) to hold any communifation with 
 him from the period when he had fallen into 
 the deplorable -way of life which I have de- 
 scribed as following his return from Canada. 
 Other relations he had none. When he and 
 Miss Blake left Devonshire their next change 
 of residence was to this house. Neither court- 
 iog iior avoiding notice ; simply happy in 
 themselves, in their cbihlren, and in their ijuiet 
 rural life ; unsuspected by the few ncighljors 
 who formed their modest circle of acfpiaint- 
 anse to be other than what they scnied — the 
 truth, in their case, ?s in the cases of many 
 others, remained undiscovered until accident 
 forced it into ttie light of day. 
 
 '■ If in your close intimac.'v with them it 
 seems sirauge that they should never have be- 
 trayed themselves, let me ask you to ronsider 
 the ciicumstauces, and you will understand 
 the apparent anomaly. Remember that they 
 had been living as husband and wife, to all in- 
 tents and purposes (except that the marriage 
 service had not been read over ttiem), for 
 fifteen years before you came into tlie house ; 
 and bear in mind, at the same time, that no 
 event occurred to disturb Mr. Vanstone's hap- 
 piness in the present, to remind him of the 
 past, or to warn him of the future, until the 
 announcement of his wife's death reached 
 him, in that letter from America wlii.-h you 
 saw placed in his hand. From that day forth 
 — when a past which he abhorred was forced 
 back to his memory ; when a future wliich she. 
 had never dared to anticipate was placed 
 within her reach — you will soon perceive, if 
 you have not perceived already, that they both 
 betrayed themselves time after time ; and that 
 vour innocence of all suspicion, and their chil- 
 dren's innocence of all suspicion, alone pre- 
 vented you from discovering the truth. 
 
 *' The sad story of the past is now as well 
 known to you as to me. I have had hard 
 words to speak. God knows I have spoken 
 them with true sympathy for the living, with 
 true tenderness for the memory of the dead." 
 
 lie paused, turned his face a little away, and 
 rested his head on his hand in the (juiet, unde- 
 monstrative manner which was natural to him. 
 Thus fiir Miss Garth had only interrujjted his 
 narrative by an occasional Avord or by a nmte 
 token of her attention. She made no effort 
 to conceal her tears ; they fell fast and silently 
 over her wasted cheeks as she looked up and 
 spoke to him. " I have done you some injury. 
 Sir, in my thoughts," she said, with a noble 
 simplicity. "I know you better now. Let 
 m(! ask your forgiveness ; let me take your 
 hand." 
 
 Those words and the action which accom- 
 
 f)anied them touched him deeply. He took her 
 land in silence. She was the first to speak, 
 the first to set the example of self-control. It 
 is one of the noble instincts of women that 
 nothing more powerfully rouses them to strug- 
 gle with their own sorrow than the sight of a 
 
 man's distress. She quietly dried her tears ; 
 she quietly drew her chair round the table so 
 as to sit nearer to him when she spoke again. 
 
 " I have been sadly broken, Mr. Pendril, by 
 what has happened in this house," she said, 
 '• or I sliould have borne what you have told 
 me better than I have borne it to-day. "VViU 
 vou let me ask one question before you go on ? 
 M}- heart aclies for the children of my love — 
 nioi'c tlian ever my children now. Is there no 
 hope for their future ? Are they left with no 
 prospect but poverty before them ?" 
 
 The lawyer hesitated before he answered 
 the question. 
 
 »• They are left dependent," he said, at last, 
 •' on the justice and the mercy of a stranger." 
 
 " Through the misfortune of their birth ?" 
 
 " Through the misfortunes wliich have fol- 
 lowed the marriage of their parents." 
 
 Witii that startling answer he rose, took up 
 the will from the fioor, and restored it to itu 
 former position on the table between them. 
 
 •• I can only jjlace the truth before you," he 
 resumed, " in one plain form of words. The 
 marriage has destroyed this will, and has left 
 ]Mr. Vanstone's daughters dependent on their 
 uncle." 
 
 As he spoke the breeze stirred again among 
 the shrubs under the window. 
 
 " On their uncle ?" repeated Miss Garth- 
 She considered for a moment, and laid her 
 hand suddenly on Mr. Fendi-il's arm. " Not 
 on Michael Vanstone !" 
 
 " Yes : on Michael Vanstone." 
 
 Miss Garth's hands still mechanically grasped 
 the lawyer's arm. Her whole mind was ab- 
 sorbed in the elfort to realize the discovery 
 which had now burst on her. 
 
 " Dependent on Michael Vanstone !" she 
 said to herself. "• Dependent on their father's 
 bitterest enemy ! How can it be '? " 
 
 "• Give me your attention for a few minutes 
 more," said Mr. Pendril, " and you shall hear. 
 The sooner we can bring this painful inter- 
 view to a close the sooner I can open commu- 
 nications with Mr. ]\Iichael Vanstone, and the 
 sooner you will know what he decides on doing 
 for his brother's orphan daughters. I repeat 
 to you that they are absolutely dependent on 
 him. You will most readily understand how 
 and why, if we take up the chain of events 
 where we last left it — at the period of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Vanstone's marriage." 
 
 " One moment, Sir," said Miss Garth. 
 " Were you in the secret of that marriage at 
 the time when it took place '?" 
 
 " Unhappily I was not. I was away from 
 London — away from England at the time. If 
 IMr. Vanstone had been able to communicate 
 with me when the letter from America an- 
 nounced the death of his wife, the fortunes of 
 his daughters would not have been now at 
 stake." 
 
 He paused, and, before proceeding further, 
 looked once more at the letters which he had 
 consulted at an earlier period of the interview. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 5i 
 
 He took one letter from tbe rest, and put it on 
 the table by bis side. 
 
 " At the begiuninjr of the present year," he 
 resumed, "a very serious business necessity, in 
 connection Avitli some West Indian property 
 possessed iiy an old client and friend of mine, 
 required thi^ presence cither of myself or of 
 one of my two ])artners in Jamaica. One of 
 the two could not be s])ared ; the other was 
 not in health to undertake the voyage. There 
 was no choice left but tor me to go. T wj'ote 
 to Mr. Vanstone. telling him that I should 
 leave England at the end of February, and 
 that the nature of the business which took me 
 away aO'orded little ho]>e of my getting back 
 from the West Indies before June. My letter 
 was not written with any s))ecial motive. I 
 merely thought it right — seeing that my ])art- 
 ners were not admitted to my knowledge of 
 Mr. Yanstone's private alTairs — to warn him 
 of my absi-nce, as a measure of formal pre- 
 caution which it was right to take. At the 
 end ol' February I left England, without hav- 
 ing heard from him. I was on tlie sea when 
 the news of his wife's deatli rea(dieii him, on 
 the 4th of jNIarch. and I did not return until 
 the middle of last June." 
 
 '• You warned him of your de])arture," in- 
 terposed Miss (iarth. " JJid you not warn 
 him of your return V" 
 
 '' Not personally. My head clerk sent him 
 one of the circulars which were dispatched 
 from my office in various directions, to an- 
 nounce m}' retiirn. It was the first substitute 
 I thought of for the personal letter which 
 th(! pressure of innumerable occupations, all 
 crowding on me together after my long ab- 
 sence, did not allow me leisure to write. 
 Barely a month later the first information ol' 
 his marriage reac hcd me in a letter from him- 
 self, written on the day of the fatal accident. 
 The oircumstances which induced him to write 
 arose out of an event in whirh yo)i nmst have 
 taken .some interest — I mean the attachment 
 between ISlr. Clare's son and Mr. Yanstone's 
 youngest daughter.' 
 
 " I can not, .say tliat I v»'as favorably dis- 
 posed toward that attachment at the time," 
 replied Miss (Jarlh. "I was igiu)rantthen of 
 the family secret : I know bi-tter now." 
 
 " Exactly. The motive which y(»u can now 
 appreciate is the motive, that leads us to the 
 point. The youug lady herself (as I have 
 heard from the elder Mr. Clare, to whom I 
 am indebted lor my knowledge of the ciremn- 
 stances in detail) confessed her attachment to 
 her father, and innocently touched him to the 
 (luick by a chance reference to his own early 
 life, lie had a lung conversation with Mrs. 
 Vanstone, at whi -h they both agreed that 
 Mr. Clare must be ])rivafely inlonued of the 
 truth, before the attachmiMit between the two 
 young people M-as allowed to proceed further. 
 It was painful in the list di-gree, both to hus- 
 band and wife, to be reduced to this alter- 
 oative. But they were resolute, honorably 
 
 resolute, in making the sacrifice of their o'wn 
 feelings ; and ^Ir. Vanstone betook himself 
 on the spot to iNIr. Clare's cottage. Y^ou no 
 doubt observed a remarkable change in Mr. 
 Yanstone's manner on that day ; and you can 
 now account for it '.'" 
 
 Miss Gartli boweil her head, and ^Ir. Pen- 
 dril went on. 
 
 " Y'ou are sufficiently acquainted with Mr. 
 Clare's contempt for all social prejudices,"' he 
 continued, '• to anticijiate his reception of the 
 confession which his neighbor addressed to 
 him. Five minutes after the interview had 
 begun the two old friends Avere as easy and 
 unrestrained together as usual. In the course 
 of conversation Mr. Vanstone mentioned the 
 pecuniary arrangement which he had made 
 f'or the benefit of his daughter and of her 
 future husband, and in doing so he naturally 
 referred to this will here on the table between 
 us. IMr. Clare, remembering that his friend 
 had been married in the March, of that year, 
 at once asked when tlie will had been exe- 
 cuted ; received the re[)ly that it had been 
 made five years since, and thereupon as- 
 fouaded Mr. Yanstone by tt lling him bluntly 
 that the docnnient was -waste paper in the 
 eye of the law. Up to that moment he, like 
 many other persons, had been absolutely igno- 
 rant that a man's marriage is, legally as well 
 as socially, considered to be the most impor- 
 tant event in his life; that it destroys the 
 validity of any will which he may have made 
 as a single man ; and that it renders abso- 
 lutely necessary the entire reassertion of his 
 testamentary intentions in the cliaracter of a 
 husband. The statement of this plain fact 
 appeared to overwhelm Mr. Yanstone. De- 
 claring that his friend had laid him imder an 
 obligation which he should remember to Lis 
 dying day, he at once left the cottage, at once 
 returned home and wrote me this letter." 
 
 1 le handed the letter open to Miss Garth. 
 In fearless, speechless grief she read these 
 words : 
 
 '• .Mt dear rr.xDHiL — Since wc Inst wrote tn cadi othor 
 an extraovdiuar.v rli.inge lias taken place in my life. Alionf 
 a Week iifler .voii went away I reccivei news from Amerira 
 which told liie that I wis free. Neeii I say Mliat use I 
 made of that freedom ? Need 1 say that tbe mother of my 
 children is now my Vi'lte ? 
 
 •■ If you are suiprihed at n'lt havinjj heard from me th* 
 moment yoti Rot hack, nttrihule my silence in great part — 
 if not altogeilu;:- — to my own t.itul ign ■trtnce of the legal 
 rece.tsity for makin:iani'><h«r will. Not half «n hour oince 
 ] was onliphtoned for the fir.'l lime (under cirrnmgtu.nres 
 which I will mention when w« meet^ by my old friend. >Ir. 
 Clare. Fiimily anxieties have hB<l oomelhiDg to do with 
 mv 8ilen-e as well. My wife's confinemeiit is dope at 
 ■ hand; and besides tiiis Bcrions anxiety, my second dn\igli- 
 ter is jnst engapeil to bo married. L'ntil I »aw .Mr. (^hire 
 to-d'iy. Mice matters »•> lilleil my mind thai 1 never 
 thouKlit of writinif to yun chiring the one sliort m inth 
 which is all that has passed since I got newsof yonr retiirn. 
 Now I know I hat my will mnsf be made again. I wiiee 
 instantly. ¥<'•'' <ind's sake, come on tie day when \ ii re- 
 ceive this — come and reiieve me from the drcaiifnl tJioiight 
 thtl mv twodaillni; ^irls are at this moniont nnpruvided 
 for. If a-.ivthiMg happened ti> me and ;f niy ('cs're to do 
 tlieir mother jn»tice ended (throujrh my misenblo ipoo- 
 ranee of the Uw) In leaving N'(>rah and Magdalen d!»in- 
 hnrited. I should not reft in my gravel CoDiC.al any co«t, 
 to youm ever, A. V." 
 
52 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 " On the Saturday mornin>ir," Mr. Pi-ndril 
 resumed, " tho?e linos reached me. I instantly 
 set aside all other business and drove to the 
 railway. At the London terminus I heard 
 the first news of the Friday's accident ; heard 
 it, with conflicting accounts of the nund»ers 
 and names of the passengers killed. At Bristol 
 they weri! hetter informed, and the dreadful 
 trutli about Mr. A'anstone was confirmed. I 
 had time to recover myself before I reached 
 your station here, and iound Mr. Clare's son 
 waiting for me. lie took me to his fathers cot- 
 tage ; and there, without losing a moment, I 
 drew out iMrs. Vanstone's will. My object was 
 to secure the only provision for her daughters 
 which it was now possible to make. Mr. 
 Vanstone having died intestate, a third of his 
 fortune woulil go to his widow, and the rest 
 would be divided among his ne.\t of kin. It 
 is the cruel peculiarity of the English law 
 that the mariiage of the parents does .not 
 legitimatize /-hildren born out of wedlock. 
 Mr. Vanstone's daughters, under the eircum- 
 stanees of llieir father's de:ith, had no more 
 claim to a share in hh property tliaii the 
 daughters of one of his iJTborers in tlie viUage. 
 The one chance left was that theirjmother 
 might sufficiently recover to leave her third 
 share to them, "by will, in the event of her 
 decease. Now you know why I wrote to you 
 to ask for that interview — why I waited day 
 and night, in the hope of receiving a sum- 
 mons to the iiouse. 1 was sincerely sorry to 
 send back such an answer to your note of 
 intpiiry as I was compelled to write. But 
 v.'liilc there was a chance of the preservation 
 of Mi-s. Vanstone's life the secret of the mai-- 
 riage was hers, not mine, and every considera- 
 tion of delicacy forbade me to disclose it." 
 
 "You did right, Sir," said Miss Garth; "1 
 understand your motives, and respect them." 
 
 " My last attempt to provide for the daugh- 
 ters," continued Mr. Pendril, " was, as you 
 know, rendered unavailing bj' the dangerous 
 nature of Mrs. Vanstone's illness. II m- deatli 
 left the infant who sin-vived lutr by a few hours 
 (the infant bom, you will remember, in lawful 
 wedlock) posse.ssed, in due legal course, of the 
 whole of Mr. Vanstone's fortune. On the 
 child's death — if it had only outlived the mother 
 by a few seconds instead of a few hours, the 
 result would have been the same — the next of 
 kin to tlie legitimate offspring took the money ; 
 and that next of kin is the infant's j)alernal 
 uncle, Miclriel Vanstone. The whole fortune 
 of eighty thousand pounds has virtually passed 
 into his possession already." 
 
 " Ani there no otlier relations ?" asked ]\Iiss 
 Garth. "Is there no hope from anyone else.'" 
 
 '' Tiiere are no other relations with ^Michael 
 Vanstone's claim," saiil the lawyer. " Tiiere 
 are no grandfathers or grandmothers of the 
 dead (diild (on the side of either of the parents) 
 now alive. It was not likely there should be, 
 considering the ages of Mr. and Mrs. Vanstone 
 wheu they died. But it is a misfortune to be 
 
 reasonably lamented that no other uncles or 
 aunts survive. There are cousins alive — a son 
 and two daughters of that elder sister of Mr. 
 \'anstoue's. who married Archdeacon Bartram, 
 and who died, as I told you, some years since. 
 But tlieir interest is superseded by the interest 
 '. of the nearer blood. No, Miss Garth, we 
 { must look facts as they are resolutely in the 
 face. The law of England, as it affects illegit- 
 I imate offsjiring, is a disgrace to the nation. It 
 violates every principle of Christian mercy, by 
 visiting the sins of tlie parents on the children ; 
 it encourages vice by depriving fathers and 
 mothers of" the strongest of all motives for 
 making the atonement of marriage ; and it 
 claims to produce these two abominable results 
 in the names of morality and religion. It is 
 not the law of Scotland, not the law of France, 
 not the law (so far as I know) of any other 
 civilized community' in Europe. A day may 
 come wlien England will be ashamed of it; 
 but that day has not dawned yet. jNlr. Van- 
 stone's daughters are Nobody's Children, and 
 the law leaves them helpless at their uncle's 
 mercy." 
 
 He spoke those words witli the energy of 
 honest indignation, and rose to his feet. 
 
 " It is useless to dwell longer," he said, " on 
 past and present. The morning is wearing 
 away, antl the future claims us. The best 
 service which I can now render you is to 
 shorten the period of your suspense. In less 
 than an hour I shall be on my way back to 
 London. Immediately on my arrival I will 
 ascertain the speediest means of communicat- 
 ing witii Mr. Michael Vanstone, and Avill let 
 you know the result. Sad as the position of 
 the two sisters now is, we must look at it on 
 its best side ; we must not lose hope." 
 
 " Hope ?" repeated ]\Iiss Garth. " Hope 
 from Michael Vanstone !" 
 
 " Yes ; Lope from the influence on him of 
 time, if not from the influence of mercy. As I 
 have already told you, he is now an old man; 
 he can not, in the course of nature, expect to 
 live much longer. If li<' looks back to the 
 period when he and his brother were first at 
 variance, he must look back through thirty 
 years. Surely these are softening influences 
 which must affect any man V Surely his own 
 knowledge of the shocking circumstances under 
 which he has become possessed of this money 
 will plead with him, if nothing else does?" 
 
 " I will try to think as you do, Mr. Pendril — 
 I will try to hope for the best. Shall we be 
 left long in suspense before the decision reaches 
 us ?" 
 
 " I trust not. The only delay on my side 
 will be caused by the necessity of discovering 
 the place of Michael Vanstone's residence on 
 the Continent. I think I have the means of 
 meeting this dllhculty successfully, and the 
 moment I reach London those means shall be 
 tried." 
 
 He took up his hat, and then returned to 
 the table on which the father's last letter and 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 53 
 
 the father's useless will were lying side by 
 side. After a moment's consideration he placed 
 them both in Miss Garth's hands. 
 
 " It may lielp you in breaking the hard truth 
 to the orphan sisters," he said, in his quiet, 
 self-repressed way, " if they can see how their 
 father refers' to them in his Avill — if they can 
 read his letter to me, the la,st he ever wrote. 
 Let these tokens tell them tliat the one idea of 
 their father's life was the idea of making atone- 
 ment to his children. * They may think bit- 
 terly of their birth,' he sai<l to me at the time 
 when I drew this useless will ; ' but they shall 
 never think bitterly of me. I will cross them 
 in nothing : they shall never know a sorrow 
 that I can spare them,, or a want which I will 
 not satisfy.' He made me put those words in 
 his will to plead for him when the truth which 
 he had concealed from his children in his life- 
 time was revealed to them after his <leath. No 
 law can deprive his daughters of the legacy of 
 his repentance and his love. I leave the will 
 and the letter to hel]) you : I give them both 
 into your care." 
 
 He saw how his parting kindness touched 
 her, and thougl it fully hastened the farewell. 
 She took his hand in both her own, and mur- 
 mured a few broken words of gratitude. 
 " Trust me to do my best," he said — and, turn- 
 ing away with a merciful abrujitness, left her. 
 In the broad, cheerful sunshine he had come 
 in to reveal the fatal truth. In the broad, 
 cheerful sunshine — that truth disclosed — he 
 went out. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 It was nearly an hour past noon when Mr. 
 Pendrll left the house. ]\Iiss Garth sat down 
 again at the table alone, and tried to face the 
 necessity which the event of th6 morning now 
 forced on ht-r. 
 
 Her mind was not equal to the effort. She 
 tried to lessen the .strain on it — to lose the 
 sense of her own position — to escape from her 
 thoughts for a few minutes only. After a little 
 she opened ^fr. Vanstone's letter, and me- 
 chanically set herself to read it through once 
 more. 
 
 One by one the last words of the dead man 
 fastened themselves more and more firmly on 
 her attention. The unrelieved solitude,' the 
 unbroken silence, helped their in(luenc(i on 
 her mind, and opened it to those very impres- 
 sions of past and present which she was most 
 anxious to shun. As she rea«-hod the melan- 
 choly lines which dosed th(' letter she found 
 herself — insensibly, almost unconsciously, at 
 first — tracing the fatal chain of events, link 
 by link, backward, until she reached its be- 
 ginning in the contemplated marriage between 
 Magdalen and Francis Clare. 
 
 That marriage had taken Mr. Vanstone to 
 his old friend with the confession on his lip'< 
 which would otherwise never have escaped 
 
 them. Thence came the discovery which had 
 sent him home to summon the lawyer to the 
 house. That summons again had proiluced 
 the inevitable acceleration of the S iturday's 
 journey to Friilay ; the Friday of the fatal 
 accident, the Friday when he went to his 
 death. From his death followed the second 
 bereavement which had made the house deso- 
 late ; the helpless position of the daughters 
 whose prosperous futun; had been his dearest 
 care; the i-evelation of the secret which had 
 overwhelmed her that morning ; the disclos- 
 ure, more terrible still, which she now stood 
 committed to make to the orphan sisters. For 
 the first time she sSw the whole sequence of 
 events — saw it as plainly as the cloudless blue 
 of the sky and the green glow of the trees in 
 the sunlight outside. 
 
 How — when could she tell them ? Who 
 could approich them with the disclosure ot 
 their own illegitimacy before their father and 
 mother had been dead a week? Who could 
 speak the dreadful words while the first tears 
 were wet on their cheeks, while the first pang 
 of separation was at its keenest in their hearts, 
 while the memory of the fuiu'ral was not a day 
 old yet ? Not their last friend left ; not the 
 faithful wonwn whose heart bled lor them. 
 No ! sdene<!for the present time at all risks — 
 meivifnl silence for many days to come ! 
 
 She left the room Avith the will and the 
 letter in her hand — with the mtural, human 
 pity at her heart wliich sealed her lips and 
 shut her eyes resolutely to the future. In the 
 hall she stopped and listened. Not a sound 
 was audible. She softly ascended the stairs 
 on lu'r way to her own room, and passed the 
 door of Norah's bedchamber. Voices inside, 
 the voices of the two sisters, caught her ear. 
 After a moment's consideration she checked 
 herself, turned back, and (piickly descended 
 the stairs again. Both Norah and Magdalen 
 knew of the interview between Mr. Pendril 
 and herself; she had felt it her duty to show 
 them his letter making the appointment. 
 Could she excite their suspicion by locking 
 herself up from them in her room as soon 
 as the lawyer had left, the house ? Her hand 
 trembled on the stair-rail ; .she felt that her 
 face might betray her. The self-forgetful for- 
 titude, which had never failed her until that 
 day, had been tried once too often — had been 
 tasked beyond its jmwers at last. • 
 
 At the hall door she reflected for a molhent 
 a^ain, and went into the garden, directing her 
 steps to a rustic bench and table placed out of 
 sight of the hou«c among the trees. In past 
 times she had ol^en sat there with ]\Irs. ^ an- 
 sfone on one side, with Norah on the other, 
 with Magdalen and the dogs romping on the 
 grass. Alone she sat there now — the will and 
 the letter, which she dared not trust out of 
 her possession, laid on the table — her head 
 bowed over them ; her face hidden in her 
 hands. Alone she sat thare, and tried to route 
 her Hiukiu;; courags. 
 
54 
 
 NO NAIVIE. 
 
 Doubts thronged on her of the dark days to 
 come ; dread beset her of the hidden danger 
 which her own silence toward Norah and Mag- 
 dalen might store up in the near future. The 
 accident of a moment might suddenly reveal 
 the truth. Mr. Fendril might write, might 
 personally address himself to the sisters, in the 
 natuial conviction that she had enlightened 
 them. Complications might gather round 
 them at a moment's notice; unforeseen neces- 
 sities might arise for Inunediateiy leaving the 
 house. She saw all these ])erils — and still the 
 cruel courage to face the worst, and sj)eak, 
 was as far from her as ever. lOre long the 
 thickening eonliict of her thoughts forced its 
 way outward for relief in words and actions. 
 She raised her head, and beat her hand help- 
 lessly on the table. 
 
 " God help me, what am I to do !" she broke 
 out. " How am I to tell themV" 
 
 " There is no need to tell- tliem," said a 
 
 voice behind her. " They know it already." 
 
 She started to her feet, and looked round. 
 
 It was Mag'lalen who stood before her — ^lag- 
 
 dalen who had spoken those words. 
 
 Yes, there was the graceful figure, in its 
 morning garments, standing out tall and black 
 and motionless against the leafy back-ground. 
 There was Magdalen herself, with a change- 
 less stillness on her white face ; with an icy 
 resignation in her steady gray eyes. 
 
 " We know it already," she repeated, in 
 clear, measured tones.' " Mr. Vanstone's 
 daughtcT-s are Nobody's Children, and the 
 law leaves them helpless at their uncle's 
 mercy." 
 
 So", without a tear on her cheeks, without a 
 faltering tone in her voice, she repeated the 
 lawyer's own words, exactly as he had spoken 
 them. Miss Garth staggered back a step, and 
 caught at the bench to support herself. Her 
 head swam ; she closed her eyes in a momen- 
 tary faintness. When they opened again 
 Magdalen's arm was supporting her, Magda- 
 len's breath fanned her cheek, Magdalen's 
 cold lips kissed her. She drew back from the 
 kiss; the touch of the girl's lips thrilled her 
 with terror. 
 
 As soon as she could speak she put the in- 
 evitable question. " You heard us," she said. 
 "Where V" 
 
 *' Under the open window." 
 " All the time V" 
 "From beginning to end." 
 She had listened — this girl of eighteen, in 
 the first week of her orphanage, had listened 
 to the whole terrible revelation, word by 
 word, as it fell from the lawyer's lips, and had 
 never once betrayed herself! From first to 
 last, the only movements which had escaped 
 her had been movements guarded enough and 
 slight enough to be mistaken for the passage 
 of the summer breeze through the leaves ! 
 
 " Don't try to speak yot," she said, in softer 
 »nd gentler tones. " Don't look at me with 
 those doubting eyes. What wrong have I 
 
 done ? When ]\Ir. Pendril wished to speak 
 to vou about Norah and me his letter gave us 
 our choice to be present at the interview, or 
 to keep away. If my elder sister decided to 
 keep awav, how could I come V How could I 
 hear m\- own story except as I did ? My 
 listening has done no harm. It has. done good 
 — it has saved you the distress of speaking to 
 us. You have suffered enough for us already : 
 it is time we learned to suffer for ourselves. I 
 have learned. And Norah is learning." 
 
 " Norah !" 
 
 " Yes. I have done all I could to spare you. 
 I have told Norah." 
 
 She had told Norah ! Was this girl, whose 
 courage had faced the terrible necessity from 
 which a woman old enough to be her mother 
 had recoiled, the girl Miss Garth had brought 
 up? the girl whose nature she had believed to 
 be as well known to her as her own ? 
 
 " Magdalen !" she cried out, passionately, 
 " you frighten me !" 
 
 Magdalen only sighed, and turned wearily 
 away. 
 
 " Try not to think worse of me than I de- 
 serve," she said. " I can't cry. My heart is 
 numbed." 
 
 She moved away slowly over the grass. 
 Miss Garth watched the tall black figure 
 gliding away alone, until it was lost among 
 the trees. While it was in sight she could 
 think of nothing else. The moment it was 
 gone she thought of Norah. For the first 
 time in her experience of the sisters her heart 
 led her instinctively to the elder of the two. 
 
 Norah was still in her own room. She was 
 sitting on the couch by the window, with her 
 mother's old music-book — the keepsake which 
 Mrs. Vanstoue had found in her husband's 
 study on the day of her husband's death — 
 spread open on her lap. She looked up from 
 it with such quiet sorrow, and pointed with 
 such ready kindness to the vacant place at her 
 side, that ]\Iiss Garth doubted for the moment 
 whether Magdalen had spoken the truth. 
 " See," said Norah, simply, turning to the 
 first leaf in the music-book. " My mother's 
 name written in it, and some verses to my 
 father on the next page. We may keep this 
 for ourselves if we keep nothing else." She 
 ])ut her arm round Miss Garth's neck, and a 
 faint tinge of color stole over her cheeks. " I 
 see anxious thoughts in your face," she whis- 
 pered. *• Are you anxious about me ? Are 
 you doubting whether I have heard it ? I 
 have heard the whole truth. I might have 
 felt it bitterly later ; it is too soon to feel it 
 now. You have seen Magdalen ? She went 
 out to find you — where did you leave her? 
 
 " In the garden. I couldn't speak to her; I 
 couldn't look at her. Magdalen has frightened 
 me." 
 
 Norah rose hurriedly; rose, startled and 
 distressed by INIiss Garth's reply. 
 
 " Don't think ill of Magdalen," she said. 
 " Magdalen suffers in secret more than I da 
 
NO NAJklE. 
 
 55 
 
 Try not to grieve over what- yon have heard 
 about us this morning. Does it matter who we 
 are, or what we keep or los^ ? What loss is 
 there for us after the loss of our father and 
 mother? Oh, Miss Garth, there is the only 
 bitterness ! What did we remember of them 
 when we laid them in the grave yesterday ? 
 Nothing but the love the}- gave us — the love 
 we must never hope for again. What else 
 can we remember to-day V Wliat ehange ean 
 the world and the world's cruel laws make in 
 our memory of the kindest father, tlie kindest 
 mother, that children ever had !" Slie stopped ; 
 struggled with her rising grief; and (juietly, 
 resolutely kept it down. " Will you wait 
 here," she said, "while I go and bring Mag- 
 dalen back ? Jlagdalen was alw;»ys your <a- 
 vorite: 1 want her to be your favorite still." 
 She laid the music-book gently on ISIiss Garth's 
 lap, and left the ro(mi. 
 
 " Magdalen was always your favorite." . 
 
 Tenderly as they had been spoken, those 
 words fell reproachfully on Miss Garth's ear. 
 For the first time in the long companionship of 
 her pupils and herself, a doubt whether she, 
 and all those about her, had not been latally 
 mistaken in their relative estimate of the sis- 
 ters, now forced itself on her mind. 
 
 She had studied the natures of her two pu- 
 pils in the daily intimacy of twelve years. 
 Those natures, which she believed herself to 
 have sounded through all their depths, had 
 been suddenly tried in the sharp ordeal of 
 affliction. How had they come out from the 
 test? As her previous experience had pre- 
 pared her to see themV No: in Hat contra- 
 diction to it. 
 
 What did such a result as this imply? 
 
 Thoughts came to her as she asked herself 
 that question which have startled and sad- 
 dened us all. 
 
 Does there exist in every human being, 
 beneath that outward and visible character 
 which is shaped into forn\ by the social inllu- 
 ences surrounding us, an inward, invisible dis- 
 position which is part of ourselves; which 
 education may indirectly modify, but can 
 never hope to change ? Is the philosophy 
 which denies this, and asserts that we are 
 born with dispositions like blank sheets of 
 paper, a philosophy which has failed to re- 
 I mark that we are not born with blank faces — 
 i a philosophy which has never compared to- 
 gether two infants of a few days old, and has 
 never observed that those infants are not 
 born with blank tempers for mothers and 
 nurses to (ill up at will ? Are there, infinitely 
 varying witli each individual, inbred forces of 
 Good and Evil in all of us, deep ilown below 
 the reach of mortal encouragement and mor- 
 tal repression — hid<len Good and hidden 
 Evil, both alike at the mercy of the liberat- 
 ing opportunity and the sufricient tempta- 
 tion? Within these earthly limits is earthly 
 Circumstan<e ever the key ; and can no hu- 
 man vigUancc warn us beforehand of the forccB 
 
 imprisoned in ourselves which that key may 
 unlock ? 
 
 For the first time thouyjhts such as these 
 rose darkly — as shadowy and terrible possi- 
 bilities — in ISIiss Garth's mind. For the first 
 time she associated those possibilities with the 
 past conduct and characters, with the future 
 lives and fb'tuncs, of the orjihan sisters. 
 
 Searching, as in a glass darkly, into the two 
 natures, she felt her way, doubt bv doubt, 
 from one possible truth to another. It miTht 
 be that the ujjper surface of their characters 
 was all that she had thus far plainlv seen 
 in Norab and IVIagdalen. It might be that 
 the unalluring secrecy and reserve of one 
 sister, the all-attractive openn'ss and hi^h spir- 
 its of the other, were more or less referable, 
 in each case, to those physii-al causes which 
 work toward the ])ro(luctiou of moral results. 
 It might be that under tht^ sur.'ace so formed — 
 a surface which there had been nothing, hith- 
 erto, in the hap])y, pios})erous, uneventful 
 lives of the sisters to disturb — forces of inborn 
 and inbred disposition had remained con- 
 cealed whicli the shock of the first serious 
 calamity in their lives had now thrown up 
 into view. Was this so ? AVas the promise 
 of the future shining witli prophetic light 
 through the surfari-shadow of Norah's re- 
 serve, and darkening with prophetic gloom 
 under the suriace-glitter of ^lagdalen's bright 
 spirits? If the life of the elder sister was 
 destined henceforth to be ihe ripening-ground 
 of the undeveloped (Jood that was in her, was 
 the life of the younger doomed to be the 
 battle-field of mortal coufiict with the roused 
 forces of Evil in herself? 
 
 On the brink of that terrible conclusion 
 Miss Garth shrank back in dismay. Her 
 heart was the heart of a true woman. It 
 accepted the conviction which raised Norah 
 higher in her love : it rejected the doubt 
 which threatened to place ^lagdalen lower. 
 She rose, and paced the room impatiently ; she 
 reci)iled with an angry sudiimness from the 
 whole train of thought in which her mind 
 had been engaged but the moment b(!fore. 
 A\ hat if there were dangerous «dements in 
 the strength of Magdalen's character — was 
 it not her duty to help t!ie girl against her- 
 self? IIow had she performed that duty? 
 She had let herself be governed by first fi-ars 
 and first impressions ; she had never waited 
 to consider whether Magdalen's <»penly ac- 
 knowledged action of that inorninir might not 
 implv a self-sacrificing fortitude, which prnui- 
 ised in after-life the noblest and highest re- 
 sults. She had let Norah go and s]ieak those 
 words of tender remonstrance, of pleading 
 sympathv, which she sliould first have spoken 
 herself *' Oh !" she thought bitterly, " how 
 long I have lived in the world, and how little 
 I have known of my own weakness and wick- 
 edness until to-<lay I" 
 
 The door of the room opened. Norah came 
 in, as she had gone out, alone. 
 
56 
 
 xo na:me. 
 
 " Do TOO remember leaTiner anjthiujr on 
 the little table by the garden-seat ?" she asked, 
 quietly. 
 
 Before Miss Garth could answer the ques- 
 tion she held out her father's will and her 
 fathers letter. 
 
 " Magdalen came back after you went 
 away," she said, " and found these la.st relics. 
 She heard Mr. Pendril say they were lier 
 legacy and mine. When I went into the 
 garden she was reading the letter. Tliere 
 was no need for me to speak to her: our 
 father had spoken to her from his grave. See 
 how she has listened to him I" 
 
 She pointed to the letter. The traces of 
 heavy tear-drops lay thick over the last lines 
 of the dead man's writing. 
 
 " Her tears." said Norah, softly. 
 
 Miss Gartli's head drooped low over the 
 mute revelation of Magdalen's return to her 
 better self. 
 
 " OJi, never doubt her again I" pleaded 
 Norah. " We are alone now — we have our 
 hard way through the world to walk on as 
 patiently as we can. If iMagdalen ever fal- 
 ters and turns back, help her for the love of 
 old times ; help her against herself." 
 
 '• With all my heart and strength, as God. 
 shall judge me, Avith the devotion of my whole 
 life !"' In those fervent words INIiss (rarth 
 answered. Siie took the hand which Xorah 
 held out to her, and put it, in sorrow and 
 humility, to her lips. '• Oh, my love, forgive 
 me! I have been miserably blind — I have 
 never valued you as I ought !' 
 
 Norah gently checked her before she could 
 say more — gently whispered, " Come with 
 me into the garden — come, and help Magda- 
 len to look patiently to the future." 
 
 The future ! Who could see the faintest 
 glimmer of it ? Who could see anything but 
 the ill-omened figure of Michael Vanstone 
 posted darkly on the verge of the present 
 time, and closing all the prospect that lay 
 beyond him? 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 On the next morning but one news was 
 received from Mr. Pendril. The place of 
 Michael Vanstone's residence on the Conti- 
 nent had been discovered. He was living at 
 Zurich, and a letter had been dispatched to 
 him at that pi \ce on the day when the infor- 
 mation v/as obtained. In tiie course of the 
 coming week au answer might be expected, 
 and the purport of it should be communicated 
 forthwith to the ladies at Combe-Raven. 
 
 Short as it was the interval of delay passed 
 wearily. Ten days elapsed before the ex- 
 pected answer was received ; and when it 
 came at last it proved to be, strictly speaking, 
 no answer at all. Mr. Pendril bad been 
 merely referred to au agent in London who 
 was in possession of Michael Vanstone's in- 
 
 structions. Certain difficulties had been dift- , 
 covered in connection with those instructions, 
 which had produced the necessity of once 
 more writing to Zurich. And there " the 
 negotiations" rested again for the present. 
 
 A second paragraph in Mr. Pendril's letter 
 contained another piece of intelligence en- 
 tirclv new. ]Mr. Michael Vanstone's son (and 
 only" child), ^Nlr. Noel Vanstone, had recently 
 arrived in London, and was then staying in 
 lodgings OL'cupied bj' his cousin, Mr. George 
 Bartram. Professional considerations had in- 
 duced INIr. Pendril to pay a visit to the lodg- 
 inss. He had been very kindly received by 
 Mr. Bartram, but had been informed by that 
 gentleman that his cousin was not then in a 
 condition to see visitors. Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 had been sufiering for some years past from a 
 wearing and obstinate malady ; he had come 
 to England expressly to obtain the best medi- 
 cal advice, and he still felt the fatigue of the 
 journey so severely as to be confined to his 
 bed. Under these cli'cumstances, Mr. Pen- 
 dril had no alternative but to take his leave. 
 An interview with Mr. Noel Vanstone might 
 have cleared up some of the difficulties in 
 connection with his father's instructions. As 
 events had turned out, there was no help for 
 it but to wait for a few days more. 
 
 The days passed, the empty days of solitude 
 and suspense. At last a third letter from the 
 lawyer announced the long-delayed conclu- 
 sion of the correspondence. The final answer 
 had been received from Zurich, and Mr. 
 Pendril would personally communicate it at 
 Combe-Raven on the afternoon of the next 
 day. 
 
 That next day was Wednesday, the twelfth 
 of August. The weather had changed in the 
 night, and the t;un rose watery through mist 
 and cloud. By noon the sky was overcast 
 at all points ; the temperature was sensibly 
 colder ; and the rain poured down, straight 
 and soft and steady, on the thirsty earth. 
 Toward three o'clock Miss Garth and Norah 
 entered the morning-room to await Mr. Pen- 
 dril's arrival. They were joined shortly af- 
 terward by JMagdalen. In half an hour more 
 the familiar fall of the iron latch in the socket 
 reached their ears from the fence beyond the 
 shrubbery. Mr. Pendril and Mr. Clare ad- 
 vanced into view along the garden path, 
 walking arm in arm throug'n the rain, shel- 
 tered by the same umbrella. The lawyer 
 bowed as they passed the windows : Mr. Clare 
 walked straiglit on, deep in his own thoughts, 
 noticing nothing. 
 
 After a delay v/hich seemed interminable ; 
 after a w^eary scraping of wet feet on the hall 
 mat ; after a mystei-ious, muttered interchange 
 of question and answer outside the door, the 
 two came in — Mr. Clare leading the way. 
 The old man walked straight up to the table 
 without any preliminary greeting, and looked 
 across it at the three women with a stern pity 
 for them in his rugged, wrinkled face. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 57 
 
 " Bad news," he said. " I am an enemy to 
 all unnecessary suspense. Plainness is kind- 
 ness in such a case as this. I mean to be 
 kind; and I tell you plainly— bad news." 
 
 Mr. Pendril followed him. He shook hands, 
 in silence, with Miss Garth and the two sis- 
 ters, and took a seat near them. Mr. Clare 
 placed himself apart on a chair by the window. 
 The >n'ay rainy liglit fell soft and sad on the 
 faces'^of Noraii and Magdalen, who sat to- 
 frether opposite to him. I\Iiss Garth had 
 placed herself a little behind them, in partial 
 sliadow ; and the lawyer's quiet face was seen 
 in profde, close beside her. So the four occu- 
 j)ants of the room appeared to Mr. Clare, as 
 lie sat apart in his corner; his long claw-like 
 fingers interlaced on his knee; his dark vigil- 
 ant eyes fixed searchingly now on one face, 
 now on another. The dripping rustle of the 
 rain among the leaves, and the clear, cease- 
 less tick of the clock on the mantle-piece, 
 made the minute of silence which followed the 
 settling of the persons present in their places 
 indcsci-ibably oppressive. It was a relief to 
 every one when Mr. Pendril spoke. 
 
 " Mr. Clare has told you already," he began, 
 " that I am the bearer of bad news. I am 
 grieved to say, I\Iiss Garth, that your doubts, 
 when I last saw you, were better founded than 
 my hopes. What that heartless elder brother 
 was in his youth hi? is still in Irs old age. In 
 all my unliappy experience of the worst side 
 of human nature, I have never met with a 
 man so utterly dead to every consideration of 
 mercy as Mirhael Vanstone." 
 
 " Do you mean that he takes the whole of 
 his brotlier's fortune, and makes no jjrovision 
 whatever for his bi'other's children V" asked 
 Miss Garth. 
 
 " He ofiVrs a sum of money for present 
 emergencies," replied Mr. Pendril, "so mean- 
 ly and disgracefully insufficient that I am 
 ashamed to mention it." 
 
 " And nothing for the future ?" 
 " Absolutely nothing." 
 
 As that answer was given tlic same thought 
 passed, at the same moment, through Miss 
 (iarth's mind and through Norah's. The de- 
 cision which deprived both the sisters alike of 
 the resources of fortune did not end there for 
 the younger of the two. Michael Vanstone's 
 merciless resolution had virtually pronounced 
 the sentence which dismis.scd Frank to China, 
 and which destioyed all present hoj)e of Mag- 
 dalen's marriage. As tiic words passed the 
 lawyer's lips Miss Garth and Norah looked at 
 Magdalen anxiously. Her face turned a shade 
 paler, but not a feature of it moved ; not a 
 word escaped her. Norah, who lield her sis- 
 ter's hand in her own, felt it tremble for a 
 moment, and then (urn cold — and that was 
 all. 
 
 " Let me mention plainly what I have done," 
 resumed Mr. Pendril ; " I am very desirous 
 you should not think that I have left any eflTort 
 untried. When I wrote to Michael Vanstone, 
 
 in the first instance, I did not confine myself 
 to the usual formal statement. I put before 
 him, plainly and earnestly, every one of the 
 circumstances under which ho has become 
 possessed of his brother's fortune. When I 
 received the answer, referring me to his writ- 
 ten instructions to his lawyer in London — and 
 when a copy of those instructions was placed 
 in my hands — I positively declined, on becom- 
 ing acquainted with them, to receive the 
 writer's decision as final. I induced the so- 
 licitor on the other side to accord us a further 
 term of delay ; I attempted to see Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone in Loudon for the purpose of ob- 
 taining his intercession ; and, failing in that, I 
 myself wrote to his father for the second time. 
 The answer referred me, in insolently curt 
 terms, to the instructions already communicat- 
 ed ; declared those instructions to be final; 
 and declined any further correspondence with 
 me. There is the beginning and the end of 
 the negotiation. If I have overlooked any 
 means of touching this heartless man, tell me, 
 and those means shall be tried." 
 
 He looked at Norah. Siie pi-essed her sis- 
 ter's hand encouragingly, and answered for 
 both of them. 
 
 " I speak for my sister as well as for myself," 
 she said, with her color a little heightened, withi 
 her natural gentleness of manner just touched 
 by a quiet, uncomplaining sadness. "You 
 have done all that could be done, Mr. Pendril. 
 We have tried to restrain ourselves from 
 hoping too confidently; and we are deeply 
 grateful for your kindness, at a time when 
 kindness is sorely needed by both of us." 
 
 Magdalen's hand returned the pressure of 
 her sister's — withdrew itself— trifled for a mo- 
 ment impatiently with the arrangement of her 
 dress — then suddenly moved the chair closer 
 to the table. Leaning one arm on it (with the 
 hand fast clenched), she looked across at Mr. 
 Pendril. Her face, always remarkable for its 
 want of color, was now startling to contem- 
 plate in its blank, bloodless pallor. IJut the 
 light in her large gray eyes was bright and 
 stX'ady as ever; and her voice, though low in 
 tone, was clear and resolute in accent as she 
 addressed the lawyer in these terms: 
 
 " I understood you to say, Mr. Pendril, that 
 my father's brother had sent his written orders 
 to" London, and that you had a copy. Have 
 you preserved it V" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Have you got it about you ?" 
 
 " I have V" 
 
 " Mav I see it?" 
 
 Mr. Pendril h-sitated, and lo(Jced uneasilj 
 from Magdalen to Miss Garth, and from Miss 
 Garth back again to Magdalen. 
 
 " Pray oblige mc by not pressing your re- 
 quest," he said. " It is surely enough that 
 you know the result of the instructions. Why 
 should you agitate yourself to no purpose by 
 reading them ? They are expressed so rruel- 
 ly ; they show such abominable want of feel- 
 
58 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 'm<r, that I really can not prevail upon myself 
 to let you see them." 
 
 " I am sensible of your kindness, Mr. Pen- 
 dril, in wishing to spare me pain. But 1 can 
 bear pain ; I promise to distress nobody. Will 
 you excuse me if I repeat my request?" 
 
 She held out her hand — the soft, white, vir- 
 gin hand that had touched nothing to soil it or 
 harden it yet. 
 
 " Oh, Magdalen, think again !" said Norah. 
 
 " You distress Mr. Tendril," added Miss 
 Garth ; " you distress us all." 
 
 " There can be no end gained," pleaded the 
 lawyer — " forgive me for saying so — there can 
 really be no useful end gained by my showing 
 you the instructions." 
 
 (" Fools !" said Mr. Clare to himself " Have 
 they no eyes to see that she means to have her 
 own way '?") 
 
 " Something tells me there is an end to be 
 gained," persisted Magdalen. " This decision 
 is a very serious one. It is more serious to 
 me — " She looked round at Mr. Clare, who 
 gat closely watching her, and instantly looked 
 back again, with the first outward betrayal of 
 emotion which had escapiid her yet. " It is 
 even more serious to me," she resumed, " for 
 private reasons, than it is to my sister. I know 
 nothing yet but that our father's brother has 
 taken our fortunes from us. He must have 
 some motives of his own for such conduct as 
 that. It is not fair to him, or fair to us, to keep 
 those motives concealed. He has deliberately 
 robbed Norah, and robbed me ; and I think we 
 have a right, if we wish it, to know why." 
 
 " I don't wish it," said Norah. 
 
 " I do," said Magdalen ; and once more she 
 held out her hand. 
 
 At this point Mr. Clare roused himself and 
 interfered for the first time. 
 
 " You have relieved your conscience," he 
 said, addressing the lawyer. " Give her the 
 right she claims. It is her right — if she will 
 have it." 
 
 Mr. Pendril quietly took the; written in- 
 structions from his pocket. " I have warned 
 you," he said, and handed the papers across 
 the table without another word. One of the 
 pages of writing was folded down at the corner, 
 and at that folded page the manuscript opened 
 when Magdalen first turned the leaves. " Is 
 this the place which refers to my sister and 
 myself?" she inquired. Mr. Pendril bowed, 
 and Magdalen smoothed out the manuscript 
 before her on the table. 
 
 " Will you decide, Norah ?" she asked, turn- 
 ing to her sister. " Shall I read this aloud, or 
 shall I read it to myself?" 
 
 " To yourself," said Miss Garth, answering 
 for Norah, who looked at her ia mute perplex- 
 ity and distress. 
 
 " It shall be as you wish," said Magdalen. 
 With that reply she turned again to the manu- 
 script, and read these lines; 
 
 ^- You aro now in possession of my wishes in re- 
 
 lAtion to the propearty in money, and to tht! sale of the fur- 
 
 nitiiie, carriages, iiorses. anil so forth. The last point left 
 on which it is necessary for me to instruct you refers to the 
 persons inhabiting the house, and to certain preposterous 
 ehiiius on tlieir behalf set up by a solicitor named Pendril, 
 who has no doubt interested reasons of his own for making 
 application to me. 
 
 •• I uMilerstand that my late brother has left two illegiti- 
 mate children, both of them young women, who are of an 
 ago to earn their own livelihood. Various considor.itions, 
 all equally irregular, have been urged in respect to these 
 per^iuns by the solicitor representing them. Be so good as 
 to ti'll him that neitiier you nor I have anything to do with 
 que.'itions of mere sentiment: and then state plainly, for 
 his better information, what the motives are which regulate 
 my conduct, and what the provision is which I feel myself 
 justified in making for the two young women. Your in- 
 structions on both these points you will find detailed in the 
 next paragraph. 
 
 " I wish the persons concerned to know, once for all, how 
 I regard the circumstances which have placed my late 
 brother's property at my disposal. Let them understand 
 that I consider those circumstances to be a Providential 
 interposition, which has restored to me the inheritance 
 that ought always to have been mine. 1 receive the money, 
 not only as my right, but also as a proper compensation for 
 the injustice which I suffered from my father. and a proper 
 penalty paid by my younger brother for the vile intrigue 
 by which he succeeded in disinheriting mo. His conduct 
 when a young man was uniformly discreditable in all the 
 relations of life; and what it then was. it continued to be 
 (on the showing of his own legal representative) after the 
 time when I ceased to hold any communication with him. 
 He appears to have systematically imposed a woman on , { 
 society as his wife who was not his wife, and to have com- ™ 
 pleted the outrage on morality by afterward marrying her. 
 Such conduct as this has called down a judgment on him- 
 self and his children. I will not invite retribution on my 
 own head by .assisting those children to continue the impo- 
 sition which their p.arents practiced, and by helping them 
 to take a place in the world to which they are not entitled. 
 Let them, as becomes their birth, gain their bread in situa- 
 tions. If they show themselves disposed to accept their 
 proper position, I will assist them to start virtuously in life 
 by a present of one hundred pounds each. This sum I au- 
 thorize you to pay them on their personal application, with 
 the necessary acknowledgment of receipt, and on the ex- 
 press understanding that the transaction, so completed, is 
 to be tlie beginning and the end of my connection with 
 tliem. The arrangements under wiiich they quit the house 
 I leave to your discretion; and I have only to add that my 
 decision on this matter, as on all other matters, is positive 
 and final.'' 
 
 Line by line — without once looking up from 
 the pages before her — Magdalen read those 
 atrocious sentences through, from beginning 
 to end. The other persons assembled in the 
 room, all eagerly looking at her together, saw 
 tlie dress rising and falling faster and faster 
 over her bosom — saw the hand in which she 
 lightly held the manuscript at the outset close 
 unconsciously on the paper and crush it as she 
 advanced nearer and nearer to the end, but 
 detected no other outward signs of what was 
 passing within her. As soon as she had done 
 she silently pushed the manuscript away, and 
 put her hands on a sudden over her face. 
 When she withdrew them all the four persons 
 in the room noticed a change in her. Some- 
 thing in her expression had altered, subtly and 
 silently ; something which made the familiar 
 features suddenly look strange, even to her 
 sister and Miss Garth ; something, through all 
 after years, never to be forgotten in connection 
 with that day — and never to be described. 
 
 The first words she spoke were addressed to 
 Mr. Pendril. 
 
 " May I ask one more favor," she said, " be- 
 fore you enter on your business arrangements?" 
 
 Mr. Pendril replied ceremoniously by a ges- 
 ture of assent. Magdalen's resolution to possess 
 herself of the Instructions did not appear to 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 59 
 
 have produced a favorable impression on tlie 
 lawyer's mind. 
 
 " Yon mentioned what yon were so kind as 
 to do in our interests when yon first wrote to 
 Mr. Michael Vanstone," she continued. " You 
 said you had told him all the circumstances. _ I 
 ■want — if you will allow me — to be made quite 
 sure of what he really knew about us when he 
 sent these orders to his lawyer. Did he know 
 that ray father had made a will, and that he 
 had left our fortunes to my sister and myself?" 
 
 " lie did know it," said Mr. Pendril. 
 
 " Did von tell him how it hajipened that we 
 are left in this helpless jmsition V" 
 
 " I told him tliat your father Avas entirely 
 unaware, when he married, of the necessity 
 for makinjr another will." 
 
 " And that another will would have been 
 made, after he saw Mr. Clare, but for the 
 dreadful misfortune of his death V" 
 
 " He knew that also." 
 
 " Did he know that my father's untiring 
 goodness and kindn(>ss to both of us — " 
 • Her voice faltered for the first time : she 
 sighed, and put her hand to her head wearily. 
 Norah spoke entreatinfrly to her; Miss Gaith 
 spoke entreatingly to her; Mr. Clare sat silent, 
 watching her more and more earnestly. She 
 answered her sister's remonstrance with a 
 faint smile. "I will keep my promise," she 
 said ; " I will distress nobody." With that 
 reply she turned again to Mr. I'endril, and 
 steadily reiterated the question — but in an- 
 other form of words. 
 
 " Did Mr. ]\Iichael Vanstone know that my 
 father's great anxiety was to make sure of 
 providing for my sister and myself V" 
 
 " He knew it in your father's own words. I 
 sent him an extract from your father's last 
 letter to me." 
 
 " The letter which asked you to come for 
 (rod's sake, and relieve him from the dreadftil 
 thought that his daughters were nnjirovided 
 for ? The letter which said he should not 
 rest in his grave if he left us disinherited V" 
 
 " That letter and those words." 
 
 She paused, still keeping her eyes steadily 
 fixed on the lawyer's face. 
 
 " I want to fasten it all in my mind," she 
 said, " before 1 go on. Mr. Michael Van- 
 stone knew of the first will; he knew what 
 prevented the making of the second will ; he 
 knew of the letter, and he read the words. 
 What did he know of besides? Did you tell 
 him of my mother's last illness ? Did you say 
 that her share in the money would have been 
 left to us if she could have lifted her dying 
 hand in your presence ? Did you try to make 
 him ashamed of the cruel law of England 
 which calls girls in our situation Nobody's 
 Children, and which allows him to use us as 
 he is using u.t now ?" 
 
 "I put all those considerations to him. I 
 left none of them doubtful ; I left none of them 
 out." 
 
 She slowly reached her hand to the copy of 
 
 the Instructions, and slowly folded it up again 
 in the shape in which it had been presented to 
 her. " I am much obliged to you, Mr. Pen- 
 dril." With those words she bowed, and 
 gently pushed the manuscript back across the 
 table; then turned to her sister. 
 
 " Norah," she said, " if we both of us live tq 
 grow ©Id, and if you ever forget all that we 
 owe to ]Michael Vanstone — come to me and 1 
 will remind you." 
 
 She rose and walked across the room by 
 herself to the window. As she passed Mr. 
 Clare the old man stretched out his claw-like 
 fingers, and caught her fast by the arm before 
 she was aware, of him. 
 
 "What is tills mask of yours hiding?" he 
 asked, forcing her to bend to him, and looking 
 closely into her face. ■' \Vhich of the extremes 
 of human temperature does your courage start 
 from — the dead cold or the white hot ?" 
 
 She shrank back from him, and turned 
 away her head in silence. She would h<ave 
 resented that unscrupulous intrusion on her 
 own thoughts from any man alive but Frank's 
 father. He dro])ped her arm as suddenly as 
 he had taken it, and let her go on to the win- 
 dow. "No," he said to himself, "not the cold 
 extreme, whatever else it may be. So much 
 the worse for her, and for all belonging to 
 her." 
 
 There was a momentary pause. Once more 
 the dripping rustle of the rain and the steady 
 ticking of the clock filled up the gap of si- 
 lence. Mr. Pendril put the Instructions back 
 in his pocket, considered a little, and, turning 
 toward Norah and Miss Garth, recalled their 
 attention to the present and pressing necessi- 
 ties of the time. 
 
 " Our consultation has been needlessly pro- 
 longed," he said, " by painful references to the 
 past. We shall be better employed in settling 
 our arrangements for the future. I am obliged 
 to return to town this evening. Pray let me 
 hear how I caTi best assist you ; pray tell me 
 what trouble and what responsibility I can 
 take off your hands." 
 
 For tiie moment neither Norah nor Miss 
 Garth seemed to be ca]iable of answering 
 him. Magdalen's reception of the news which 
 annihilated the marriage prospect that her 
 father's own lips had placed before her not 
 a month since had bewildered and dismayed 
 them alike. Tliey had simimoncd their cour- 
 age to meet the shock of her passionate grief, 
 or to face the harder trial of witnessing her 
 speechless despair. But they were not pre- 
 pared for her invincible resolution to read the 
 Instructions; for the terrible questions which 
 .she had put to the lawyer ; for her immovable 
 determination to fix all the circumstances in 
 her mind under which Michael Vanstone's 
 decision had been pronounced. There she 
 stood at the window, an unfathomable mys- 
 tery to the sister who had never been parted 
 from her, to the governess who had trained 
 her from a child. Mils Garth remembered 
 
60 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 the dark doubts which had crossed her mind 
 on the day when she and Magdalen had met 
 in tlie garden. Norah looked forward to the 
 coming time with the first serious dread of it 
 on her sister's account which she had felt yet. 
 Both had hitherto remained passive, in despair 
 ■ of knowing what to do. Both were now si- 
 lent, in despair of knowing what to say. 
 
 Mr. Pendril patiently and kindly helped 
 them by returning to the subject of their fu- 
 ture plans for the second time. 
 
 " I am sorry to press any business matters on 
 your attention," he said, " when you are neces- 
 sarily unfitted to deal with them. But I must 
 take my instructions back to London with me 
 to-night. With reference, in the first place, 
 to the disgraceful pecuniary ofl^er to which I 
 have already alluded. The younger Miss Van- 
 stone having read the Instructions, needs no 
 further information from my lips. The elder 
 will, I hope, excuse me if I tell her (what I 
 should be ashamed to tell her but that it is 
 a matter of necessity) that Mr. Michael Van- 
 stone's provision for his brothers children 
 begins and ends with an offer to each of them 
 of one hundred pounds." 
 
 Norah'si face crimsoned with indignation. 
 She started to her feet, as if Michael Vanstone 
 had been present in the room and had per- 
 sonally insulted her. 
 
 " I see," said the lawyer, wishing to spare 
 her, " 1 may tell Mr. Michael Vanstone you 
 refuse the money." 
 
 " Tell him," she broke out, passionately, 
 " if I was starving by the road-side I wouldn't 
 touch a farthing of it !" 
 
 " Shall I notify your refusal also ?" asked^ 
 Mr. Pendril, speaking to Magdalen next. 
 
 She turned round from the window, but 
 kept her face in shadow by standing close 
 against it with her back to the light. 
 
 " Tell him, on my part," she said, " to think 
 again before he starts me in life with a hun- 
 dred pounds. I will give him time to think." 
 She spoke those strange words with a marked 
 empliasis, and, turning back quickly to the 
 window, hid her face from the observation of 
 every one in the room. 
 
 " You both refuse the offer," said Mr. Pen- 
 dril, taking out his pencil and making his 
 professional note of the decision. As he shut 
 up his pocket-book he glanced toward Mag- 
 dalen doubtfully. She had roused in him the 
 latent distrust which is a lawyer's second na- 
 ture : he had his suspicions of her looks ; he 
 had his suspicions of her language. Her sis- 
 ter seemed to have more influence over her 
 than Miss Garth. He resolved to speak pri- 
 vately to her sister before he went away. 
 
 While the Idea was passing through his 
 mind his attention was claimed by another 
 question from Magdalen. 
 
 ^' Is he an old man ?" she asked, suddenly, 
 without turning round from the window. 
 
 " If you mean Mr. Michael Vanstone, he is 
 neventy-five or seventy-six years of age." 
 
 " You spoke of his son a little while since. 
 Has he any other sons or daughters T' 
 
 " None." 
 
 ".Do you know anything of his wife ?" 
 
 " She has been dead for many years." 
 
 There was a pause. " Wliy do you ask 
 these questions ?" said Norah. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," replied Magdalen, 
 quietljr ; " I won't ask any more." 
 
 For the third time Mr. Pendril returned to 
 the business of the interview. 
 
 " The servants must not be forgotten," he 
 said. " Ihey must be settled with and dis- 
 charged : I will give them the necessary ex- 
 planation before I leave. As for the house, 
 no questions connected with it need trouble 
 you. The carriages and horses, the furniture 
 and plate, and so on, must simply be left on 
 the premises to await Mr. Michael Vanstone's 
 further orders. But any possessions, Miss 
 Vanstone, personally belonging to you or to 
 your sister — your jewelry and dresses, and 
 any little presents which may have been made 
 to you — are entirely at your own disposal. 
 With regard to the time of your departure, I 
 understand that a month or more will elapse 
 before Mr. Michael Vanstone can leave Zu- 
 rich ; and I am sure I only do his solicitor 
 justice in saying — " 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Pendril," interposed No- 
 rah; "I think I understand, from what you 
 have just said, that oui' house and everything 
 in it belongs to—;-? " She stopped, as if the 
 mere utterance of the man's name was abhor- 
 rent to her. 
 
 " To Michael Vanstone," said Mr. Pendril. 
 " The house goes to him with the rest of the 
 property." 
 
 " Then I, for one, am ready to leave it to- 
 morrow !" 
 
 Magdalen started at the window as her 
 sister spoke, and looked at Mr. Clare with the 
 first open signs of anxiety and alarm which 
 she had shown yet. 
 
 '' Don't be angry with me," she Avhispered, 
 stooping over the old man with a sudden 
 humility of look, and a sudden nervousness of 
 manner. " I can't go without seeing Frank 
 first !" 
 
 " You shall see him," replied Mr. Clare. 
 " I am here to speak to you about it when the 
 business is done." 
 
 " It is quite unnecessary to hurry your de- 
 parture as you propose," continued Mr. Pen- 
 dril, addressing Norah. " I can safely assure 
 you that a week hence will be time enough." 
 
 " If this is Mr. Michael Vanstone's house," 
 repeated Norah, " I am ready to leave It to- 
 morrow." 
 
 She Impatiently quitted her chair and seated 
 herself farther away on the softi. As she laid 
 her hand on the back of it her face changed. 
 There, at the head of the sofa, were the 
 cushions which had supported her mother 
 when she lay down for the last time to repose. 
 There, at the foot of the sofa, was the clumsy, 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 61 
 
 old-fasliionerl arm-chair whicli had beon lior 
 father's 'favorite seat on rainy dnys, when she 
 and her si)<ter used to amnse him at the piano 
 opposite by phTying his fiivorite tunes. A 
 heavy sigh, which she tried vainly to repress, 
 burst from her hps. " Oh," slie tlionght, " I 
 had forgotten these ohl friends! IIow shall 
 we part from them when the time comes!" 
 
 " Mav I inquire, Miss Vanstone, wiiether 
 yon and your sister liave formed any definite 
 plans for- the future V" asked Mr. Pendril. 
 " Have you thought of any place of resi- 
 dence ?" 
 
 "I may take it on myself. Sir," said IMiss 
 Garth, " to answer your question for them. 
 When they leave tliis house they leave it with 
 me. j\Iy home is their home, and my bread 
 is their bread. Their parents honored me, 
 trusted me, and loved me. For twelve happy 
 years they ne^er let me remember that I was 
 their go\ erness, they only let mc know myself 
 as their companion and friend. ]\Iy memory 
 of them is the memory of unvarying gentle- 
 ness and generosity, and my lite shall pay 
 till- debt of my gratitude to their orphan 
 children." 
 
 Norah rose hastily from the sofa ; ]\Iagdalen 
 imi)etuously left th(! window. For once there 
 was no contrast in the conduct of the sisters. 
 For once the same inqmlse moved their hearts, 
 the same earnest feeling inspired tlieir woi-ds. 
 Miss Gartii waited until the first outburst of 
 emotion had j)a9sed away, then rose, and, 
 taking Norah and ]\Iagdalen eacli by the 
 hand, addressed herself to l\Ir. Pendril and 
 Mr. Clare. She spoke with perfect self-pos- 
 session ; strong in her artless unconsciousness 
 of her own good action. 
 
 " Even such a trifle as my own story," she 
 said, " is of some importance at such a mo- 
 ment as this. I wish you both, gentlemen, to 
 understand that I an\ not promisin* more to 
 the daughters of your old friend than I can 
 perform. WhcMi f first came to this house I 
 entered it under such independent circinn- 
 stanccs as are not common in the lives of 
 governesses. In my younger days I Avas asso- 
 ciated in teaching with my elder sister : we 
 established a sciiool in J^ondon, which grew to 
 be a large and prosperous one. I only left it 
 and became a ]irivatc governess because the 
 heavy responsibility of the school was more 
 than my strength could bear. I left my share 
 in the profits untouched, and I possess a pecu- 
 niary interest in our establisiiment to this 
 day. That is my st6ry in few words. When 
 we leave this liousc I propose that we shall 
 go back to the school in London, which is 
 still prosperously directed by my elder sister. 
 We can live there as quietly as we please 
 until time has helped us to bear our afllietion 
 better than we can bear it now. If Norah's 
 and Magdalen's altered prospects oblige them 
 to earn their own independence, I can helj) 
 them to earn it as a gentleman's daughters 
 should. The best families in this land are 
 
 glad to ask my sister's advice where the inter- 
 ests of their children's home training are con- 
 cerned ; and I answer beforehand for her 
 hearty desire to serve Mr. Vanstone's daugh- 
 ters, as I answer for my own. That is the 
 future which my gratitude to their fatlier and 
 mother, and my love for themselves, now 
 offers to them. If you think my proposal, 
 gentlemen, a fit and fair proposal — and I see 
 in your faces that you do — let us not make 
 the hard necessities of our position harder 
 still by any useless delay in meeting th(rm 
 at once. l.,et us do what we must (lo ; let 
 us act on Norah's decision, and leave this 
 house to-nu)rrow. You mentioned t\w ser- 
 vants just now, Mr. Pendril: I am ready to 
 call them together in the next room, and to 
 assist you in the settlement of their claims 
 whenever you ]ilease." 
 
 Without waiting for the lawyer's answer, 
 without leaving the sisters time to realize their 
 own terrible si; nation, she moved at once 
 toward the door. It was her wise resolution 
 to meet the coining trial by doing much and 
 saying little. Before she could leave the room 
 Mr. Clare followed and stopped her on the 
 threshold. 
 
 " I never envied a woman's feelings before," 
 said the old man. " It may surprise you to 
 hear it! but I envy yours. Wait! I have 
 something more to say. There is an obstacle 
 still left — the everlasting obstacle of Frank. 
 Help mc to sweep him off. Take the elder 
 sister along with you and the lawyer, and 
 leave me here to have it out with the younger. 
 I want to see what metal she 's really made of" 
 
 AVhile Mr. Clare was addressing these words 
 to i\Iiss Garth Mv. Pendril had iaken the op- 
 portunity of .speaking to Norah. " Before I 
 go back to town," he said, " I should like to 
 have a word with }ou in private. From what 
 has passed to-day. Miss Vatistone, I have 
 formed a very high o[.inion of your discretion ; 
 and, as an old friend of your father's, 1 want 
 to take the freedom of .«pcaking to you about 
 your sister." 
 
 Before Norah could answer she was sum- 
 moned, in compliance with Mr. Clare's re- 
 (piest, to the conference with the servants. 
 Mr. Pendril followed Miss Garth as a matter 
 of course. When the three were out in the 
 hall Mr. Clare re-entered the room, closed the 
 door, and signed peremptorily to Magdalen to 
 take a chair. 
 
 She obeyed him in silence. He took a turn 
 up and down the room with his hands in the 
 side j)o:kets of the long, loose, shapeless coat 
 whicii lie habitually wore. 
 
 '• How old are you ?" he said, stopping sud- 
 denly, and speaking to her with the whole 
 breadth of the room between them. 
 
 " I was eighteen last birthday," she answer- 
 ed, humbly, without looking up at him. 
 
 " You have shown extraordinar}- courage for 
 a girl of eighteen. Have you got any of that 
 courage letl ?" 
 
62 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 She clasped her hands together and wrung 
 them hard. A few tears gathered in her eyes 
 and rolled slowly over her cheeks. 
 
 " I can't give Frank up/' she said, faintly. 
 " You don't care for me, I know ; but you 
 used to (jare for my father. Will you try to 
 be kind to me for my father's sake ?" 
 
 The last words died away in a whisper ; she 
 could say no more. Never had she felt the 
 illimitable power Avhich a woman's love pos- 
 sesses of absorbing into itself every other 
 event, every other joy or sorrow of her life, 
 as she felt it then. Never had she so tenderly 
 associated Frank with the memory of her lost 
 parents as at that moment. Never had the 
 impenetrable atmospliere of illusion through 
 which women behold the man of their choice 
 — the atmosphere which had blinded her to all 
 that was weak, selfish, and mean in Frank's 
 nature — surrounded him with a brighter halo 
 than now, when she was pleading with the 
 father for the possession of the son. " Oh, 
 don't ask me to give him up !" she said, trying 
 to take courage, and shuddering from head to 
 foot. In the next instant she flew to the op- 
 posite e.xtreme, with the suddenness of a flash 
 of lightning. " I Avon't give him up !"' she 
 burst out violently. " No ! not if a thousand 
 fathers ask me !" 
 
 " I am one father," said Mr. Clare. " And 
 I don't ask you." 
 
 In the first astonishment and delight of 
 hearing those unexpected words she started to 
 her feet, crossed the room, and tried to throw 
 her arms round his neck. She might as well 
 have attempted to move the house from its 
 I'ouudations. He took her by the shoulders 
 and put her back in her chair. His inexo- 
 rable eyes looked her into submission ; and 
 his lean forefinger shook at her warningly, as 
 if he was quieting a fractious child. 
 
 " Hug Frank," he said ; " don't hug me. I 
 haven't done with you yet ; when I have, you 
 may shake hands with me, if you like. Wait, 
 and compose yourself" 
 
 He lel't her. His hands went back into his 
 pockets, and his monotonous march up and 
 down the room began again. 
 
 " Ready Y' he asked, stopping short after a 
 while. She tried to answer. " Take two 
 minutes more," he said, and resumed his walk 
 with the regularity of clock-work. " These 
 are the creatures," he thought to himself, 
 " into whose keeping men, otherwise sensible, 
 give the happiness of their lives. Is there 
 any other object in creation, I wonder, which 
 answers its end as badly as a woman does ?" 
 
 He stopped before her once more. Her 
 breathing was easier; the dark flush on her 
 face was dying out again. 
 
 "Ready?" he repeated. "Yes; ready at 
 last. Listen to me ; and let 's get it over. I 
 don't ask you to give Frank up. I ask you to 
 wait." 
 
 " I will wait," she said. . " Patiently, will- 
 ingly-" 
 
 " Will vou make Frank wait?" 
 
 "Yes."" 
 
 " Will you send him to China ?" 
 
 Her head drooped on her bosom, and she 
 clasped'her hands again in silence. Mr. Clare 
 saw where the difficulty lay, and marched 
 straight up to it on the spot. 
 
 " I don't pretend to enter into your feelings 
 for Frank, or Frank's for you," he said. " The 
 subject doesn't interest me. But I do pretend 
 to state two plain truths. It is one plain truth 
 that you can't be married till you have money 
 enough to pay for the roof that shelters you, 
 the clothes that cover you, and the victuals 
 you eat. It is another plain truth that you 
 can't find the money; that I can't find the 
 money ; and that Frank's only chance of find- 
 ing it is going to China. If I tell him to go, 
 he '11 sit in a corner and cry. If I insist, he 
 will say yes, and deceive me. If I go a step 
 further, and see him on board ship with my 
 own eyes, he will slip off in the pilot's boat, 
 and sneak back secretly to you. That 's his 
 disposition." 
 
 "No!" said Magdalen. " It 's not his dis- 
 position — it 's his love for Me." 
 
 " Call it what you like," retorted Mr. Clare. 
 " Sneak, or Svveet-hcart — he 's too slippery, 
 in cither capacity, for my fingers to hold him. 
 My shutting the door won't keep him from 
 coming back. Your shutting the door will. 
 Have you the courage to shut it ? Are you 
 fond enough of him not to stand in his light ?" 
 
 " Fond! I would die for him !" 
 
 " Will j^ou send him to China ?" 
 
 She sighed bitterly. 
 
 " Have a little pity for me," she said. " I 
 have lost my father; I have lost my mother; I 
 have lost my fortune — and now I am to lose 
 Frank. You don't like women, I know; but 
 try to help me with a little pity. I don't say 
 it 's not for his own interests to send him to 
 China; I only say it 's hard — very, very hard 
 on me." 
 
 Mr. Clare had been deaf to her violence, 
 insensible to her caresses, blind to her tears; 
 but under the tough integument of his philos- 
 ophy he had a heart, and it answered that 
 hopeless appeal — it felt those touching words. 
 
 " I don't deny that your case is a hard one," 
 he said. " I don't want to make it harder : I 
 only ask you to do, in Frank's interests, what 
 Frank is too weak to do for himself. It 's no 
 fault of yours — it 's no fault of mine ; but it's 
 not the less true that the fortune you Ttere 
 to have brought him has changed owners." 
 
 She suddenly looked up, with a furtive light 
 in her eyes, with a threatening smile on her 
 lips. 
 
 " It may change owners again," she said. 
 
 Mr. Clare saw the alteration in her expres- 
 sion, and heard the tones of her voice. But 
 the words were spoken low — spoken as if to 
 herself; they failed to reach him across the 
 breadth of the room. He stopped instantly 
 in his walk, and asked what she had said. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 63 
 
 " Nothing," she answered, turning her head 
 away toward the window and looking out me- 
 chanic-ally at the falling rain. " Only my 
 own thoughts." 
 
 Mr. Clare resumed his walk, and returned 
 to his subject. 
 
 " It 's your interest," he went on, " as well 
 as Frank's interest, that he should go. He 
 may make money enougli to marry you in 
 Cliina ; he can't make it here. If he stops at 
 home, he '11 be the ruin of both of you. He 
 will shut his eyes to every consideration of 
 pi-udence. and pester you to marry him ; and 
 when he has carried his point, he Avill be the 
 first to turn round afterward and complain 
 that you 're a burden on him. Hear me out ! 
 You 're in love with Frank : I 'ra not, and I 
 know him. Put you two together often 
 enough ; give him time enough to liug, cry, 
 pester, and plead, and I '11 tell you what the 
 end will i)e — you "11 marry him." 
 
 He liad toucheil the right string at last. It 
 rung back in answer before he could add 
 another word. 
 
 " You don't know me," she said firmly. 
 " You don't know what I can suffer for Frank's 
 sake. He shall never marry me till I can be 
 what my father said I should be — the making 
 of his fortune. He shall take no burden when 
 he takes me, I ])romise you that! I '11 be the 
 good angel of Frank's life ; I '11 not go a pen- 
 niless girl to him and drag him down." She 
 abruptly left her seat, advanced a few steps 
 toward Mr. Clare, and stopped in the middle 
 of the room. Her arms lell helplessly on 
 either side of her, and she burst into tears. 
 " He shall go !" she said ; " if my heart breaks 
 in doing it, I '11 tell him to-morrow that we 
 must say Good-by !" 
 
 !Mr. Clare at once advanced to meet her, 
 and held out his hand. 
 
 " I '11 help you, he said. " Frank shall hear 
 every word that has passed between us. When 
 he comes to-morrow he shall know beforehand 
 that he comes to say good-by."' 
 
 She took his hand in both her own — hesi- 
 tated — looked at him — and pressed it to her 
 bosom. " May I ask a favor of you before you 
 go V"' she said, timidly. He tried to take his 
 hand from her; but she knew her advantage, 
 and hell] it fast. " Suppose there should be 
 some change for the better?" she went on. 
 
 " Suppose I could come to Frank, as my father 
 said I should come to him — "?" 
 
 Before she could complete the (piestion Mr. 
 Clare made a second effort, and withdrew his 
 hand. '' As your father said you should come to 
 him '?■' he repeated, looking at her attentively. 
 
 " Yes," she replied. " Strange tilings hap- 
 pen sometimes. If strange things happen to 
 )iie, will you let Frank come back before the 
 five years are out":"' 
 
 Wiiat did she mean? Was she clinging 
 desperately to the hope of melting Michael 
 Vanstone's heart ? Mr. Clare could draw no 
 other conclusion from what she had just said 
 to him. At the beginning of tiie interview 
 he would have roughly dispelled her delusion. 
 At the end of the interview he left her com- 
 passionately in possession of it. 
 
 " You are hoping against all hope," he said, 
 "but if it gives you courage, hope on. If this 
 
 impo.>sible good fortune of yours ever happens. 
 
 In the 
 meantime — " 
 
 tell me, and Frank shall come back. 
 
 "In the meantime," she interposed, sadly, 
 "you have my j)romise." 
 
 Once more Mr. Clare's sharp eyes searched 
 her face attentively. 
 
 " I will trust your promise," he said. " You 
 shall see Frank to-morrow." 
 
 She went back thoughtfully to her chair, 
 and sat down again in silence. Mr. Clare 
 made for the door before any formal leave- 
 taking could pass between them. "Deep!" 
 lie thought to himself as he looked back at 
 her before he went out, " only eighteen — and 
 too deep for my sounding!" 
 
 In the hall he found Norah, waiting an.\- 
 iously to hear what had happened. 
 
 "Is it all over?" she asked. "Does Frank 
 go to China?" 
 
 "Be careful how yoH manage that sister of 
 yours," said Mr. Clare, without noticing the 
 question. " She has one great misf'ortune to 
 contend with : s!ie 's not made lor the ordinary 
 jog-trot of a woman's life. I don't say I can 
 see straight to the end of the good or the evil 
 in her — I only warn you her future will be no 
 common one." 
 
 An hour later jNIr. Pendril left the house, 
 and by that night's post Miss (iarth dispatched 
 a letter to her sister in London. 
 
 THK END OF TIIE FIRST SCKNE. 
 
 BETWEEN THE SCENES. 
 
 krom norah vavstomk to mr. i'enbuii.. 
 
 '• Wkstmorelaxd House, Ken.si.noto.x, 
 August 14. 1846. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Fkndril — The date of this 
 
 hard partings is over. We have left Combe- 
 Raven ; we have said farewell to home. 
 
 " I have been thinking seriously of what 
 you said to me on Wednesday, before you 
 went back to town. I entinly agree with 
 you that Miss Garth is more shaken by all she 
 
 letter will show you that the last of many ' has gone through for our sakes than she is 
 
64 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 herself willing to admit, and that it is my 
 duty for the future to spare her all the anxiety 
 that I can on the subject of my sister and 
 myself. This is very little to do for our dear- 
 est friend, for our second mother. Such as it 
 is, I will do it with all ray heart. 
 
 " But forgive me for saying that I am as 
 far as ever from agretiing with you about 
 Magdqlen. I am so sensible, in our helpless 
 position, of the importance of your assist- 
 ^i^Q(. — so anxious to be worthy of the interest 
 of my father's trusted adviser and oldest 
 friend"^, that I feel really and truly disap- 
 pointed with myself for differing with you — 
 and yet I do differ. Magdalen is very strange, 
 very unaccountable, to those who don't know 
 her" intimately. I can understand that she 
 has innocently misled you ; and that she has 
 presented herself, perhaps, under her least 
 favorable aspect. But that the clew to her 
 lan'i-uaoe and her conduct on Wednesday last 
 is to be found in such a feeling toward the 
 man who has ruined us as the feelings at which 
 you hinted is what I can not and will not be- 
 lieve of my sister. If you knew, as I do, 
 what a noble nature she has, you would not 
 be surprised at this obstinate resistance of 
 mine to your opinion. Will you try to alter 
 it? I don't mind what Mr. Clare says: he 
 believes in nothing. But I attach a very seri- 
 ous importance to what you say ; and, kind as 
 I know your motives to be, it distresses me to 
 think you are doing Magdalen an injustice. 
 
 " Ilavin" relieved my mind of this conces- 
 sion. I may now come to the proper objeet of 
 my letter.' I promised, if you could not find 
 leisure to visit us to-day, to write and tell you 
 all that happ-ened after you left us. The day 
 has passed without our seeing you. So I open 
 my writing-case and perform my promise. 
 
 " I am sorry to say that three of the wo- 
 men-servants — tlie house-maid, the kitchen- 
 maid, and even our own mai<i (to whom I am 
 sure we have always been kind) — tpok advaii- 
 taue of your having paid them th-'ir wages to 
 pat'k up and go as soon as your back was 
 turned. They came to say good-by with as 
 much ceremony, and as little feeling, as if 
 they Avere leaving the house under ordinary 
 circumstances. The cook, for all her violent 
 temper, behaved very differently : she sent 
 up a message to say that slie would stop and 
 help us to °he last. And Thomas (who has 
 never yet been in any other place than ours) 
 spoke so gratefully of" my dear father's unva- 
 rying kindness, aiid asked so anxiously to be 
 allowed to go on serving us while his little 
 savings lasted, that Magdalen and I forgot all 
 formal consiilerations, and both shook iiands 
 wit!) him. The poor lad went out of the room 
 crying, I wish him well ; I hope he will find 
 a kind master and a good place. 
 
 " The long, quiet, rainy evening out of doors 
 — our last evening at Combe-Raven — was a 
 sad trial to us. I think winter-time v/ould 
 have weighed less on our spirits : the drawn 
 
 curtains, and the bright lamps, and the com- 
 panionable firc.'s would have helped us. We 
 were only five in the house altogether — after 
 having once been so many ! I can't tell yoii 
 how dreary the gra}' dayliglit looked, toward 
 seven o'clock, inthe lonely rooms and on the 
 noiseless staircase. Surely the prejudice in 
 favor of long summer evenings is the prejudice 
 of happv p'eople ? We did our best, ^ We 
 kept ourselves employed, and Miss Garth 
 helped us. The prospect of preparingfor our 
 departure, which had seemed so dreailful ear- 
 lier in the day, altered into the prospect of a 
 refu"^e from ourselves as the evening came on. 
 We 'each tried at first to pack u]) in our own 
 rooms, but the loneliness was more tlian wo 
 could bear. We carried all our possessions 
 down stairs, and heaped them on the large 
 dining-table, and so made our preparations 
 to'i-ether, in the same room. I am sure we 
 have taken nothing away which does not prop- 
 erly belong to us. 
 
 " Having already mentioned to you my own 
 conviction"' that Magdalen was not herself 
 v.'hen you saw hereon Wednesday, I feel 
 tempted to stop here, and give you an instance 
 in proof of what I say. The little circum- 
 stance happened on Wednesday night, just 
 before we went up to our rooms. 
 
 " After we had packed our dresses and our 
 birthday presents, our books and our music, 
 we began to sort our letters, which had got 
 eonfused from being all placed on the table 
 together. Some of my letters were mixed 
 wilh Magdalen's, and some of hers with mine. 
 Among tiiese last I found a card, which had 
 been given to my sister early in the year by an 
 actor ''who managed an amateur theatrical 
 performance in which she took a part. The 
 man had given her the card, containing his 
 name and address, in the belief that she would 
 be invited to many more amusements of the 
 same kind, and in the hope that she would 
 recommend him, as a superintendent on future 
 occasions. I only relate these trifling particu- 
 lars to show you how little worth keeping such 
 a card could'be, in such circumstances as ours. 
 Naturally enough, I threw it away from me 
 across the table, meaning to throw it on the 
 floor. It fell short, close to the place in which 
 Maf^dalen was sitting. She took it up, looked 
 at it, and immediately declared that she would 
 not have had this perfectly worthless thing 
 destroyed for the world. She was almost 
 anory with me for having thrown it away ; 
 ahnost angry with Miss Garth for asking what 
 she could possibly want with it ! Could there 
 be anv plainer proof than this that our misfor- 
 tunes—falling so much more heavily on her 
 than on me— have quite unhinged her. and 
 worn her out! Surely her words and looks 
 are not to be interpreted against her, when 
 she is not sufficiently mistress of herself to ex- 
 ert her natural judgment— when she shows the 
 unreasonable petulance of a child on a ques- 
 tion which is not of the slightest importance. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 C5 
 
 " A little after eleven we went up stairs to 
 try if we could get some rest. 
 
 " I drew aside the curtain of my window 
 and looked out. Oh, what a cruel last night 
 it was ; no moon, no stars ; such deep dark- 
 ness that not one of the dear familiar objects 
 in the garden was visible when I looked for 
 them ; such deep stillness, that even my own 
 movements about the room almost frightened 
 me ! I tried to lie down and sleep, but the 
 sense of loneliness caine again, and quite 
 overpowered me. You will say I am old 
 enough, at six-and-twenty, to have exerted 
 more control over myself. I hardly know how 
 it happened, but I stole into Magdalen's room, 
 just as I used to steal into it years and years 
 ago, when we were children. She was not in 
 bed ; she was sitting with her writing mate- 
 rials before her, thinking. I said I wanted 
 to be with her the last night ; and she kissed 
 me, and told me to lie down, and promised 
 soon to follow me. My mind was a little 
 quieted, and I fell asleep. It was daylight 
 when I woke — and the first sight I saw was 
 Magdalen, still sitting in the chair, and still 
 thinking. She had never been to bed ; she 
 had never slept all through the night. 
 
 " 'I shall sleep when we have left Combe- 
 Raven,' she said. 'I shall be better when it is 
 all over, and I have bid Frank good-by.' She 
 had in her hand our father's will, and the letter 
 he wrote to you ; and when she had done 
 speaking she gave tlu'm into my possession. I 
 was the eldest (she said), and those last pre- 
 cious relics ought to be in my keeping. I tried 
 to propose to her that we should divide them ; 
 but she shook her head. 'I have copied for 
 myself,' was her answer, ' all that he says of us 
 in the will, and all that he says in the letter.' 
 She told me this, and took from her bosom 
 a tiny white silk bag, which she had made 
 in the night, and in which she had put the 
 extracts, so as to keep them always about her. 
 ' This tells me in his own word.s what his last 
 wishes were for both of us,' she said ; ' and this 
 is all I want ibr the future.' 
 
 " These are tritles to dwell on ; and I am 
 almost surprised at myself for not feeling 
 ashamed to trouble you with them. But since 
 I have known what your early connection was 
 with my father and mother, I have learned to 
 thirtk of you (and, I suppose, to write to you) 
 as an old friend. And, besides, I have it so 
 much at heart to change your opinion of Mag- 
 dalen that I can't help telling you the smallest 
 thin^fs about her which may, in my judgment, 
 end in making you think of her as 1 do. 
 
 "When breakfast-time came (^on Thursday 
 morning) we were surprised to find a strange 
 letter on the table. Perhaps I ought to men- 
 tion it to you, in case of any future necessity 
 for your interference. It was addressed to 
 Miss Garth, on paper with the deepest mourn- 
 ing border round it ; and the writer was the 
 same man who followed us on our -way home 
 from a walk one day last spring — Captain 
 
 Wragge. His object appears to be to assert 
 once more his audacious claim to a family- 
 connection with my poor mother, under cover 
 of a letter of condolence, which it is an inso- 
 lence in such a person to have written at all. 
 He expresses as much sympathy — on his dis- 
 covery of our affliction in the newspapers — aa 
 if he had been really intimate with us; and he 
 begs to know, in a postscript (being evidently 
 in total ignorance of all that has really hap- 
 pened), whether it is thought desirable that 
 he should be present among the other rela- 
 tives at the reading of the will ! The address 
 he gives, at which letters will reach him for 
 the next fortnight, is, 'Post-office, Birming- 
 ham.' This is all I have to tell you on the 
 subject. Both the letter and the Avriter seem 
 to ine to be equally unworthy of the slightest 
 notice on our part or on yours. 
 
 " After breakfast Magdalen left us, and 
 went by herself into the morning-room. The 
 weather being still showery, we had arranged 
 that Francis Clare should see her in that 
 room when he presented himself to take hia 
 leave. I was up stairs when he came ; and I 
 remained up stairs for more than half an hour 
 afterward, sadly anxious, as you may well 
 believe, on Magdalen's account. 
 
 " At the end of the half-hour, or more, I 
 came down stairs. As I reached the landing 
 I suddenly heard her voice, raised entreat- 
 ingly, and calling on him by his name — then 
 loud sobs — then a frightful laughing and 
 screaming, both together, that rang through 
 the house. I instantly ran into the room, and 
 found Magdalen on the sofa in violent hys- 
 terics, and Frank standing staring at her with 
 a lowering, angry face, biting his nails. 
 
 "I felt so indignant — without knowing 
 plainly why, for I was ignorant of course of 
 what had passed at the interview — that I 
 took Mr. Francis Clare by tlie shoulders and 
 pushed him out of the room. I am careful to 
 tell you how I acted toward him, and what led 
 to it, because I understand that he is exces- 
 sively offended with me, and that he is likely 
 to mention elsewhere what he calls my un- 
 ladylike violence toward him. If he should 
 mention it to you, I am anxious to acknowl- 
 edge, of my own accord, that I forgot myself 
 — not, I hope you will think, without some 
 provocation. 
 
 "I pushed him into the hall, leaving Mag- 
 dalen for the moment to Miss Garth's care. . 
 Instead of going away he sat down sulkily on 
 one of the hall chairs. 'May I ask the reason 
 of this extraordinary violence ?' he inquired, 
 with an injured look. 'No,' I said. 'You 
 will be good enough to imagine the reason for 
 yourself, and to leave us immediately', if you 
 please.' lie sat doggedly in the chair, bitine 
 his nails, and considering. 'What have I 
 done to be treated in this unfeeling manner ?' 
 he asked, after awhile. ' I can enter into no 
 discussion with you,' I answered ; ' I can only 
 request you to leare us. If you persist in 
 
66 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 waiting to see my sister again, I will go to 
 the cottage myself and appeal to your father.' 
 He got up in a great hurry at those words. 
 ' I have been infamously used in this business,' 
 he said. ' All the hardships and the sacrifices 
 have fallen to my share. I 'm the only one 
 among you who has any heart: all the rest 
 are as hard as stones — Magdalen included. In 
 one breath she says she loves me, and in 
 another she tells me to go to China. What 
 have I done to be treated with this heartless 
 inconsistency ? I 'ni consistent myself — -I only 
 want to stop at home — and (what's the conse- 
 quence V) you 're all against me !' In that 
 manner he grumbled his way down the stejis, 
 and so I saw the last of him. This was all 
 that passed between us. If he gives you any 
 other account of it, what he says will be false. 
 He made no attempt to return. An liour 
 afterward his father came alone to say good- 
 by. He* saw Miss Garth and me, but not 
 Macdalen ; and he told us he would take the 
 necessary measures, with your assistance, tor 
 having his son properly looked after in Lon- 
 don, and seen safely on board the vessel when 
 the time came. It was a short visit, and a sad 
 leave-taking. Even Mr. Clare was sorry, 
 though he tried hard to hide it. 
 
 " We had barely two hours after Mr. Clare 
 had left vis before it would be time to go. I 
 went back to Magdalen, and found her quieter 
 and better, though terribly pale and ex- 
 hausted, and oppressed, as I fancied, by 
 thoughts which she could not prevail on 
 herself to communicate. She would tell me 
 nothing then — she has told me nothing since 
 — of what passed between herself and Francis 
 Clare. When I spoke of him angrily (feeling 
 as I did that he had distressed and tortured 
 her, when she ought to have had all the 
 encouragement and comfort li-om him that 
 man could give), she refused to hear me : she 
 made the kindest allowances and the sweetest 
 excuses for him, and laid all the blame of the 
 dreadful state in which I had found her en- 
 tirely on herself. Was I wrong in telling you 
 that she had a noble nature ? And won't 
 you alter your opinion when you read these 
 lines V 
 
 " VVe had no friends to come and bid us 
 good-by, and our few acquaintances were too 
 far irom us — perhaps too indifferent about us — 
 to call. We employed the little leisure left in 
 going over the house together for the last time. 
 We took leave of our old school-room, our bed- 
 rooms, the room where our mother died, the 
 little study where our father used to settle his 
 accounts and write his letters — feeling toward 
 them, in our forlorn situation, as other girls 
 might have felt at parting with old friends. 
 From the house, in a gleam of fine weather, 
 we went into the garden and gathered our last 
 nosegay, with the purpose of drying the flowers 
 when they begin to wither, and keeping them 
 in remembrance of the happy days that are 
 gone. When we had said good-by to the gar- 
 
 den there was only half an hour left. We 
 went together to the grave; we knelt down, 
 side by side, in silence, and kissed the sacred 
 ground. I thought my heart would have 
 broken ! August was the month of iny moth- 
 er's birthday ; and this time last year my father 
 and Magdalen and I were all three consulting 
 in secret what present we could make to sur- 
 prise her with on the birthday morning. 
 
 " If you liad seen how Magdalen suffered 
 you would never doubt her again. I had to 
 lake her from the last resting place of our 
 father and mother alinost by force. Before 
 we were out of the church-yard she broke from 
 me and ran back. She dropped on her knees 
 at the grave, tore up from it passionately a 
 handful of grass, and said something to herself 
 at the same moment which, though I followed 
 her instantly, I did not get near enough to 
 hear. She turned on me in such a frenzied 
 manner when I tried to raise her from the 
 ground — she looked at me with such a fearful 
 wildness in her eyes — that I felt absolutely 
 terrified at the sight of her. To my relief, tho 
 paroxysm left her as suddenly as it had come. 
 She thrust away the tuft of grass into the 
 bosom of her dress, and took my arm, and 
 hurried with me out of the church-yard. I 
 asked her why she had gone back — I asked 
 what those words were whicli she had spoken 
 at the grave. ' A promise to our dead father,' 
 she answered, with a momentary return of the 
 wild look and the frenzied manner which had 
 startled me already. I was afraid to agitate 
 her by saying more ; I left all other questions 
 to be asked at a fitter and a (juieter time. You 
 will understand from this how terribly she suf- 
 fers — how wildly and strangely she acts under 
 violent agitation ; and you will not interpret 
 against her what she said or did when you saw 
 her on Wednesday last. 
 
 " We onl}' returned to the house in time to 
 hasten away from it to the train. Perhaps it 
 was better tor us — better that we had only a 
 moment lefc to look back before the turn in 
 the road hid the last of Combe-llaven from our 
 view. There was not a soul we knew at the 
 station : nobody to stare at us ; nobody to wish 
 us good-by. The rain came on again as we 
 took our seats in the train. What we felt at 
 the sight of the railway — what horrible re- 
 membrances it forced on our minds of the 
 calamity Avhich has made us fatherless. I can 
 not and dare not tell you. I have tried anx- 
 iously not to write this letter in a gloomy tone; 
 not to return all your kindness to us by dis- 
 tressing you with our grief. Perhaps I have 
 dwelt too long already on the little story of our 
 parting from home ? I can only say, in ex- 
 cuse, that my heart is full of it ; and what ia 
 not in my heart my pen won't write. 
 
 " We have been so short a time in our new 
 abode that I have nothing more to tell you, 
 except that Miss Garth's sister has received ua 
 with the heartiest kindness. She considerately 
 leaves us to ourselves, until we are fitter than 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 67 
 
 we are now to think of our future plans, %pd 
 to arrange as we best can for earning our own 
 living. The house is .so large, and the position 
 of our rooms has been so thoughtfully chosen, 
 that I should hardly know — except when I 
 hear the laughing of the younger girls in the 
 garden — tliat we were living in a school. 
 
 " AVith kindest and best wishes from Miss 
 Garth and my sister, believe me, dear Mr. 
 Pendril, gratefully yours, 
 
 " NoRAii Vanstone." 
 
 IT. 
 
 rnoM HISS garth to mil pendiiil. 
 
 " Westmobfxand IIousb, Kensington, 
 SepUmhcr •2.'?, 1846. 
 
 " My Dear Sir — 1 write these lines in such 
 misery of mind as no words can describe. Mag- 
 dalen has deserted us. At an early hour this 
 morning she secretly left the house, and she 
 has not been heard of since. 
 
 " I would come and speak to you personally, 
 but I dare not leave Norah. 1 must try to 
 control myself; I must try to write. 
 
 " Nothing liappened yesterday to prepare 
 mc, or to prepare Norah, for this last — I had 
 almost said this worst — of all our afflictions. 
 The only alteration we either of us noticed 
 in the unhappy girl was an alteration ibr the 
 better when we parted for the night. She 
 kis.sed me, which she has not done latterly ; 
 and she burst out crying when she emliraci.'d 
 her sister next. We had so little suspicion of 
 the truth that we thought these signs of re- 
 newed tenderness and affection a promi.se of 
 better tilings for the future. 
 
 " This morning, at a little after eight o'clock, 
 when licr sister went into her room, it was 
 em{)ty, and a note in her handwriting, ad- 
 drcs.sed to Norah, was lying on the dressing- 
 table. I can not prevail on Norah to part 
 with the note ; I can only send you the in- 
 closed copy of it. You will see that it affords 
 no clew to the direction she has taken. 
 
 " Knowing the value of time in this dread- 
 ful emergency, I examined her room, and 
 (with my sister's help) questioned the ser- 
 vants immediati'ly on the news of her absence 
 reaching me. Her wardrobe was empty ; and 
 all her boxes but one, which she has evidently 
 taken away with her, are empty too. We 
 are of opinion that .she has privately turned 
 her dresses and jewelry into money ; that she 
 had the one trunk she took with her removed 
 from the house yesterday ; and that she left 
 us this morning on foot. The answers given 
 by one of the servants arc so unsatisfactory 
 that we believe the woman has be«>n bribed 
 to assist her, and has managed all those ar- 
 rangements for her (light which she could not 
 have safely undertaken by herself. 
 
 " Of the immcfliate object with which she 
 has left us I entertain no doubt. 
 
 "I have reasons (which I can tell yon at a 
 fitter time) for feeling assured that she has 
 gone away with the intention of trying her 
 
 fortune on the stage. She has in her posses- 
 sion the card of an actor by profession, who 
 superintended an amateur theatrical perform- 
 ance at Clifton, in which she took part ; and 
 to him she has gone to help her. I saw the 
 card at the time, and I know the actor's name 
 to be Huxtable. The address I can not call 
 to mind quite so correctly, but I am almost 
 sure it was at some theatrical place in Bow 
 Street, Covent Garden. Let me entreat you 
 not to lose a moment in sending to make the 
 necessary inquiries ; the first trace of her will, 
 1 firmly believe, be found at that address. 
 
 " If we had nothing worse to dread than 
 her attempting to go on the stage, I should 
 not feel the distress and dismay which now 
 overpower me. Hundreds of other girls have 
 acted as recklessly as she has acted, and have 
 not ended ill after all. But my fears for 
 Magdalen do not begin and end with the risk 
 she IS running at present. 
 
 " There has been something weighing on 
 her mind ever since we h^ft Combe-Kaven — 
 weiThinu far more heavily for the last six weeks 
 than at first. Until the period when Francis 
 Clare left England, I am persuaded she wa.s 
 secretly sustained by the hope that he would 
 contrive to see her again. From the day 
 when she knew that the measures you had 
 taken for preventing this had succeeded — 
 from the day when she was assured that the 
 ship had really taken him away, nothing has 
 roused, nothing has interested her. She has 
 ixiven herself up, more and more hopclesslv, to 
 her own brooding thoughts— thoughts which, 
 I bi^lieve, first entered her mind on the day 
 when the utter ruin of the prospects on which 
 her marriage depended was made known to 
 her. She has formed some desperate project 
 of contestinc the possession of her father's 
 fortune witirMichael Vanstone ; and the stage 
 career which she has gone away to try is 
 nothing more than a means of Ireeing herself 
 from ail home-dependence, and of enabling 
 her to run what mad risks she pleases in per- 
 fect securitv from all home-control. What it 
 costs me to" write of her in these terms I must 
 leave you to imagine. The time has gone by 
 when 'any consideration of distress to my own 
 feelinTS can weigh with me. Whatever I 
 can say which will open your eyes to the real 
 danger, and strengthen your convi<-tion of the 
 instant necessity "of averting it, I say in de- 
 spite of myself, without hesitation and without 
 reserve. 
 
 " One word more, and I have done. 
 " The last time you were so good as to come 
 to this house, do you remember how Magdalen 
 embarrassed and di.stressed us by (|uestioning 
 von about her right to bear her father's name"? 
 i)o vou remember her persisting in her inqui- 
 ries until she had forced you to acknowledge 
 that, Icirally .speaking, .she and her sister had 
 No Name V 1 venture to remind you of this, 
 because you have the affairs of hundreds of 
 clients to think of, and you might well have 
 
68 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 forgotten the circumstance. Whatever natu- 
 ral reluctance she might otherwise have had 
 to deceiving us, and degrading herself, by the 
 use of an assumed name, that conversation 
 with you is certain to have removed. We 
 must discover her by personal description — 
 we can trace her in no other way. 
 
 " I can think of nothing more to guide your 
 decision in our deplorable emergency. For 
 God's sake, let no expense and no efforts be 
 spared ! I send my letter by private messen- 
 ger : it ought to reach you by ten o'clock this 
 morning at the latest. Let me have one line 
 in answer, to say you will act instantly for the 
 best. My only hope of quieting Norah is to 
 show her a word of encouragement from your 
 pen. Believe me, dear Sir, yours sincerely 
 and obliged, Harriet Garth." 
 
 III. 
 
 - FROM MAGDALEN TO NORAH (INCLOSED IN THK 
 PRECEDING letter). 
 
 "My Darling — Try to forgive me. I 
 have struggled against myself till I am worn 
 out in the effort. I am the wretchedest of 
 living creatures. _ Our quiet life here maddens 
 me ; I can bear it no longer ; I must go. If 
 you knew what my thoughts are ; if you knew 
 how hard I have fought against them, and 
 how horribly they have gone on haunting me 
 in the lonely quiet of this house, you would 
 pity and forgive me. Oh, my love, don't 
 feel hurt at my not opening my heart to you 
 . as I ought ! I dare not open It. I dare not 
 show myself to you as I really am. 
 
 " Pray don't send and seek after me ! I 
 will write and relieve all your anxieties. You 
 know, JSTorah, we must get our living for our- 
 selves ; I have only gone to get mine In the 
 way which is fittest for me. Whether I suc- 
 ceed, or whether I fail, I can do myself no 
 harm either way. I have no position to lose, 
 and no, name to degrade. Don't doubt I love 
 you — don't let Miss Garth doubt my grati- 
 tude. I go away miserable at leaving you ; 
 but I must go. If I had loved you less dearly 
 I might have had the courage to say this in 
 your presence ; but how could I tru.st myself 
 to resist your persuasions, and to bear the 
 sight of your distress V Farewell, my dar- 
 ling. Take a thousand kisses from me, my 
 own best, dearest love, till we meet again. 
 "Magdalen." 
 IV. 
 
 FROM SERGEANT BULMER (oF THE DETECTIVE 
 police) TO MR. PENDRIL. 
 
 Scotland Yard, Sept. 29, 1S46. 
 
 " Sir — Your clerk informs me that the par- 
 ties interested in our inquiry after the missing 
 young lady are anxious for news of the same. 
 I went to your office to speak to you about the 
 matter to-day. Not having found you, and 
 not being able to return and try again to-mor- 
 row, I write these lines to save delay, and to 
 tell you how we stand thus far. 
 
 • " I am sorry to say no advance has been 
 made since my former report. The trace of 
 the young lady which we found nearly a week 
 since still remains the last trace discovered of 
 her. This case seems a mighty simple one, 
 looked at from a distance. Looked at close, 
 it alters very considerably for the worse, and 
 becomes, to speak the plain truth, a Poser. 
 
 " This is how we stand : 
 
 " We have traced the young lady to the 
 theatrical agent's in Bow Street. We know 
 that at an early hour on the morning of the 
 twenty-third the agent was called down stairs, 
 while he was dressing, to speak to a young 
 lady in a cab at the door. We know that, on 
 her production of Mr. Huxtable's card, he 
 wrote on It Mr. Huxtable's address, and heard 
 her order the cabman to drive to the terminus. 
 We believe she left by the nine o'clock train. 
 We followed her by the twelve o'clock train. 
 We have ascertained that she called at half- 
 past two at Mr. Huxtable's lodgings ; that she 
 found he was away, and not expected back 
 till eight in the evening; that she left word 
 she would call again at eight, and that she 
 never returned. Mr. Huxtable's statement is 
 — he and the young lady have never set eyes 
 on each other. The first consideration which 
 follows is this: Are we to believe Mr. Hux- 
 table ? I have carefully inquired into his 
 character ; I know as much, or more, about 
 him than he knows about himself; and my 
 opinion is, that we are to believe him. To the 
 best of my knowledge he is a perfectly honest 
 man. 
 
 " Here, then, Is the hitch In the case. The 
 young lady sets out with a certain object be- 
 fore her. Instead of going on to the accom- 
 plishment of that object she stops short of it. 
 Why has she stopped ? and where ? Those 
 are, unfortunately, just the questions which 
 we can't answer yet. 
 
 " My own opinion of the matter is briefly as 
 follows : I don't think she has met with any 
 serious accident. Serious accidents. In nine 
 cases out of ten, discover themselves. My 
 own notion Is, that she has fallen Into the 
 hands of some person or persons interested in 
 hiding her away, and sharp enough to know 
 how to set about It. Whether she is in their 
 charge, with or without her own consent, is 
 more than I can undertake to say at present. 
 I don't wish to raise false hopes or false fears ; 
 I wish to stop short at the opinion I have 
 given already. 
 
 " In regard to the future, I may tell you 
 that I have left one of my men in daily com- 
 munication with the authorities. I have also 
 taken care to have the hand-bills offering a 
 reward for the discovery of her more widely 
 circulated. Lastly, I have completed the nec- 
 essary arrangements for seeing the play-bills 
 of all country theatres, and for having the 
 dramatic companies well looked after. Some 
 years since this would have cost a serious ex- 
 penditure of time and money. Luckily for 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 69 
 
 our purpose, the country theatres arc in a bad 
 way. Excepting the large cities, hardly one 
 of them is open, and we can keep our eye on 
 them with little expense and less difficulty. 
 
 " These are the steps which I think it need- 
 ful to take at present. If you arc of another 
 opinion, you have only to give me your direc- 
 tions, and r will carefully attend to the same. 
 I don't by any moans despair of our finding 
 the young lady, and bringing her back to her 
 friends safe and well. Please to tell them so ; 
 and allow rae to subscribe myself, yours re- 
 spectfully, Abraham Bulmeu." 
 
 ANONV>r<irs I.KTTICrt AUDUKSSED TO MR. I'KNDHII,. 
 
 " Sir — A word to the wise. The friends 
 of a certain young Ltdy are wasting time and 
 
 money to no purpose. Your confidential clerk 
 and your detective policeman are looking for 
 a needle in a bottle of hay. This is the ninth 
 of October, and they have not found her yet ; 
 they will as soon find the Northwest Passage. 
 Call your dogs off, and you may hear of the 
 young lady's safety under her own hand. The 
 longer you look for her the longer she will re- 
 main, what she is now, lost." 
 
 [The preceding letter is thus indorsed, in 
 Mr. Pendril's handwriting: "No apparent 
 means of tracing the inclosed to its source. 
 Post - mark, ' Charing Cross.' Stationer's 
 stamp cut off the inside of the enveloj)e. 
 Handwriting, probably a man's in disguise. 
 Writer, whoever he is, correctly informed. 
 No further trace of the younger Miss Van- 
 stone discovered yet."] 
 
 THE SECOND SCENE-SKELDERGATE, YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In that part of the City of York which is 
 Bituated on the western bank of the Ouse 
 there is a narrow street called Skeldcrgate, 
 which runs nearly north and south, parallel 
 with the course of the river. The postern by 
 which Skeldergate was formerly a])proached 
 no longer exists, and the few old houses left in 
 the street are disguised in melancholy modern 
 costume of whitewash and cement. Shops of 
 the smaller and poorer order, intermixed here 
 and there with dingy warehouses and joyless 
 private residences of red brick, compose the 
 present aspect of Skeldergate. On the rivei-- 
 side the houses are separated, at intervals, by 
 lanes running down to the water, and disclos- 
 ing lonely little plots of open gi-ound, with 
 the masts of sailing barges rising beyond. At 
 its southward extremity the street ceases on a 
 sudden, and the broad How of the Ouse, the 
 trees, the meadows, the public walk on one 
 bank, and the. towing-path on the other, open 
 to view. 
 
 Here, where the street ends, and on the side 
 of it farthest from the river, a narrow little 
 lane leads up to the paved foot-way surmount- 
 ing the ancient Walls of York. The one 
 small row of buildings, which is all that the 
 lane possesses, is composed of cheap lodging- 
 houses, with an opposite view, at the distance 
 of a few feet, of a portion of the massive city 
 wall. This place is called Iif)semary Lane. 
 Very little light enters it; very few people 
 live in it; the floating population of Skelder- 
 gate passes it by; and visitors to the Walk on 
 the Walls, who use it as the wav up or the 
 •way down, get out of the dreary little passage 
 as fast as they can. 
 
 The door of one of the houses in this lost 
 corner of York opened softly on the evening 
 
 of the twenty-third of September, eighteen 
 hundred and forty-six, and a solitary individual 
 of the male sex sauntered into Skeldergate 
 from the seclusion of Rosemary Lane. 
 
 Turning northward, this person directed his 
 steps toward the bridge over the Ouse and the 
 busy ctiutre of the city. He bore the external 
 appearance of respectable poverty; he carried 
 a gingham umbrella, preserved in an oil-skin 
 case : he jncked his steps with the neatest 
 avoidance of all dirty places on the j)ave- 
 ment ; and he surveyed the scene around him 
 with eyes of two different colors — a bilious 
 brown eye on the look out for employment, 
 and a bilious green eye in a similar predica- 
 ment. In plainer terms, the stranger from 
 Rosemary Lane was no other than — Captain 
 Wragge. 
 
 Outwardly speaking, the captain had not 
 altered for the better since the memorable 
 spring day when he had presented himself to 
 Miss Oarth at the lodgivgate of Combe-Raven. 
 The railway mania of that famous year had 
 attacked even the wary Wragge, had with- 
 drawn him from his customary pursuits, and 
 had left him prostrate in the cud, like many a 
 better man. He had lost his clerical appear- 
 ance — he had faded with the autumn leaves. 
 His crape hat-band had put itself in brown 
 mourninir for its own bereavement of black. 
 His dingv white collar and cravat had died 
 the dcatli of old linen, and had gone to their 
 Ion" home at the paper-maker's, to live again 
 on(! dav in (juires at a stationer's shop. A 
 gray shooting-jacket in the last stage of woolen 
 atrophy replaced the black frock - coat of 
 former times, and, like a faithful servant, kept 
 the dark secret of its master's linen from the 
 eyes of a prying world. From top to toe 
 every square inch of the captain's clothing 
 was altered for the worse : but the man him- 
 
70 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 self remained unchanged — superior to all 
 forms of moral mildew, impervious to the ac- 
 tion of social rust. He was as courteous, as 
 persuasive, as blandly dignified as ever. He 
 carried his head as Iiigh witiiout a shirt collar 
 as ever he had carried it with one. Tin- 
 threadbare black handkerchief round his neck 
 was perfectly tied ; his rotten old shoes were 
 neatly blacked; he might have compared 
 chins, in the matter of smooth shaving, witli 
 the highest church dignitary in York. ' Time, 
 change, and poverty had all attacked the cap- 
 tain together, and had all failed alike to get 
 him down on the ground. He paced the 
 streets of York a man superior to clothes and 
 circumstances, his vagabond varnish as bright 
 on him as ever. 
 
 Arrived at the bridge, Captain Wragge 
 stopped and looked idly over the parapet at 
 the barges in the river. It was plainly evident 
 that he had no particular destination "to reach, 
 and nothing whatever to do. While he was 
 gtill loitering, the clock of York Minster 
 chimed the lialf-liour past five. Cabs rattled 
 by him over the bridge, on their way to meet 
 the train from London at twenty minutes to 
 six. After a moment's hesitation the captain 
 sauntered after the cabs. When it is one of a 
 man's regular habits to live upon his fellow- 
 creatures, that man is always more or less fond 
 of haunting large railway stations. Captain 
 Wragge gleaned the human field; and on that 
 unoccupied afternoon the York terminus was 
 as likely a corner to look about in as any 
 other. 
 
 He reached the platform a few minutes after 
 the train had_ arrived. That, entire incapa- 
 bility of devising administrative measures for 
 the management of large crowds, which is 
 one of the national characteristics of English- 
 men in authority, is nowhere more strikingly 
 exemplified than at York. Three different 
 lines of railway assemble three passenger 
 mobs, from morning to night, under one roof, 
 and leave them to raise a travelers' riot, with 
 all the assistance which the bewildered ser- 
 vants of the company can render to increase 
 the confusion. The customary disturbance 
 was rising to its climax as Captain Wragge 
 approached the platform. Dozens of different 
 people were trying to attain dozens of differ- 
 ent objects in dozens of different directions, 
 all starting from the same common point, and 
 all equally deprived of the means of informa- 
 tion. A sudden parting of the crowd, near 
 the second-class carriages, attracted the cap- 
 tain's curiosity. He pushed his way in, and 
 found a decently dressed man — assisted by a 
 porter and a policeman — attempting to pick 
 up some printed bills scattered from a paper 
 parcel which his frenzied fellow-passengers 
 had knocked out of his hand. 
 
 Offering his assistance in this emergency 
 with the polite alacrity which marked his 
 character, Captain Wragge observed the 
 three startling words, " Fifty Pounds Reward," 
 
 printed in capital letters on the bills which he 
 assisted in recovering; and instantly secreted 
 one of them, to be more closely examined at 
 tlie first convenient opportunity. As he crum- 
 pled up the bill in the palm of his hand his 
 parti-colored eyes fixed with hungry interest 
 on the proprietor of the unlucky parcel. 
 When a man happens not to be possessed of 
 fifty pence in his own pocket, if his heart is 
 in the right place, it bounds — if his mouth is 
 properly constituted, it waters — at the sight of 
 another man who carries about with him a 
 printed ofl^er of fifty pounds sterling addressed 
 to his fellow-creatures. 
 
 The unfortunate traveler wrapped up his 
 parcel as he best might, and made his way off 
 the platform, after addressing an inquiry to 
 the first oflicial victim of the day's passenger- 
 trafhc who was sufficiently in possession of his 
 senses to listen to it. Leaving the station for 
 the river-side, which was close at hand, the 
 stranger entered the ferry-boat at the North 
 Street Postern. The captain, who had care- 
 fully dogged his steps thus far, entered the 
 boat also, and employed the short interval of 
 transit to the opposite bank in a perusal of the 
 hand-bill which he had kept for his own pri- 
 vate enlightenment. With his back carefully 
 turned on the traveler. Captain AVragge now 
 possessed his mind of the following lines : 
 
 FIFTY POUNDS REW.^RD. 
 
 Left her home, in London, early on the morning of Sei>- 
 tember 23d, 1S46, A Young L-VDY. Age — eighteen. Dress — 
 deep mouruinp;. Personal .appearance — hair of a very light 
 brown; eyebrows and eyeliishes darlier; eyes light gray; 
 complexion strikingly pale; lower part of her fare large and 
 full; tall, upriglit figure; walks with remarkable gr.ar.e and 
 ease ; speaks witli openness and resolution ; ha,s the manners 
 and habits of .a refined, cultivated hwly. Personal inarkg — 
 two little moles, close together, on the left side of the neck. 
 Mark on the under-clotliing — " Magd.alen Vanstone.' Is 
 supposed to have ji>ined, or attempted to join, under an as- 
 sumed name, a the.itrical company now performing at 
 York. Had, when she left Loudon, one black box, and no 
 other luggage. Whoever will give Huch information as will 
 restore her to her friends will receive the above Reward. 
 Apply at the office of Mr. Ilarkne.ss, solicitor, Coney Street, 
 York. Or to Messrs. Myatt, Pcndril, and Gwilt, Searlo 
 Street, Lincoln's Inn, London. 
 
 Accustomed as Captain Wragge was to keep 
 the completest possession of himself in all hu- 
 man emergencies, his own profound astonish- 
 ment, when the course of his reading brought 
 him to the mark on the linen of the missing 
 young lady, betrayed him into an exclamation 
 of surprise which even startled the ferryman. 
 The traveler was less observant ; his whole at- 
 tention was fixed on the opposite bank of the 
 river, and he left the boat hastily the moment 
 it touched the landing-place. Captain Wragge 
 recovered himself, pocketed the hand-bill, and 
 followed his leader for the second time. 
 
 The stranger directed his steps to the near- 
 est street which ran down to the river, com- 
 pared a note in his pocket-book with the 
 numbers of the houses on the left-hand side, 
 stopped at one of them, and rang the bell. 
 The captain went on to the next house, affect- 
 ed to ring the bell in his turn, and stood with 
 his back to the traveler — in appearance, wait- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 71 
 
 ing to be let in ; in reality, listening with all 
 his might for any scraps of dialogue which 
 might reacli his ears on the opening of the 
 door bt'liinil him. 
 
 The door was answered with all due alacrity, 
 and a sufli'iently instruelive interchange of 
 question and answer on the threshold rewarded 
 the dexterity of Captain Wragge. 
 
 " Does Mr. IIu.\.tablc live hero ?" asked the 
 traveler. 
 
 " Yes, Sir," was the answer, in a woman's 
 toice. 
 
 " Is he at home V" 
 
 "Not at home now. Sir; but he will be in 
 again at eigiit to-night." 
 
 " I lliinlc a young lady called here early in 
 the day, did she not?" 
 
 " Yes; a young lady came this afternoon." 
 
 " E.xactly ; I come on the same business. 
 Did she see INIr. Iluxtable ?" 
 
 "No, Sir; he ])as been away all day. The 
 young lady told me she would come back at 
 eight o'clock." 
 
 "Just .so. I will call and see Mr. Iluxtablc 
 at the sanii! time." 
 
 " Any name. Sir '?" 
 
 " No; say a gentleman called on theatrical 
 busiiu'.s.s — that will be enough. Wait one 
 minute, if you please. I am a J^tranger in 
 York ; will you kindly tell me which is the 
 way to Coney Street V" 
 
 The woman gave the recjuired information, 
 the door clo.sed, and tlie stranger hastened 
 away in the dii'ection of Coney Street. 
 
 On this occasion Captain Wragge made no 
 attempt to follow him. The hand-bill revealed 
 plainly enough that tlie man's next objet^t was 
 to complete the necessar}' arrangements with 
 the loi-al solicitor on tiie subject of the promised 
 reward. 
 
 lla\ ing seen and heard enough for his im- 
 mediate purpose, tlic captain retraced his steps 
 down the street, turned to tlie right, and en- 
 teied on the J^splanade, wliich in that cpiarter 
 of tin-, <ity borders the river-sidi' between the 
 swiniuiing-baths an<l Lcndal Tower. " This is 
 a family matter," said Captain Wragge to him- 
 sell', jtcrsisting. from sheer force of habit, in the 
 old assertion of his relationsliip to Magdalen's 
 mother; "1 must consider it in all its bear- 
 ings." lie tucked the umbrella under his arm, 
 crossed his hands behind him, and lowered 
 himself gently into the abyss of his own re- 
 Ihctions. The order and propriety ob.servable 
 in tlie captain's sha!>by garments accuratelj' 
 typifieil the order and propriety which distin- 
 pui>lied the 0|)eraiions of tlie captain's mind. 
 It was his habit alway.s to see his way before 
 liiiii through a neat sutxes.sion of alternatives 
 — and so he .saw it now. 
 
 Three courses wen; opened to him in con- 
 nection with the remarkable discovery which 
 lie had just made. The first cour.v- was to do 
 nothing in the matter at all. Inadmi.ssible, on 
 family grounds: c(jualiy inadmis.sible on pecu- 
 niary grounds: rejected accordingly. The 
 
 second course was to deserve the gratitude of 
 the youni^ lady's friends, rated at fifty jiounds. 
 Tlie third course was by a timely wai'iiing to 
 deserve the gratitude of the young lady her- 
 self, rated — at an unknown figure. Between 
 these last two alternatives the warv Wragge 
 hesitated; not from doubts of Magdalen's pe- 
 cuniary resources, for he was totally ignorant 
 of the circumstances which had deprived the 
 sisters of their inheritance — but from doubt 
 whether an obstacle, in the shape of an uiuli.s- 
 covered gentleman, might not be privately 
 connected with her disappearance from home. 
 After mature reflection he determined to 
 l)ause and be guided by circumstances. In 
 the meantime the first consideration was to 
 1)0 beforehand with the messenger from Lon- 
 don, and to lay hands securely on the young 
 lady herself 
 
 " I feel for this Uii.sguided girl," mused the 
 captain, solemnly strutting backward and for- 
 ,ward by the lonely river-side. "I always 
 have looked upon her — I always shall look 
 upon her — in the light of a niet'c." 
 
 Where w >s the ado])ted relative at that mo- 
 ment? In other words, how was a young lady 
 in Magdalen's critical position likely to while 
 away the hours until Mr. Iluxtable's return ? 
 j If tliere was an obstructive gentleman in tho 
 back-ground it would be mere waste of time 
 to jiursue the cpiestion. But if the inference 
 which the hand-bill suggested was correct — if 
 she was really alone at that moment in tho 
 City of York — where was she likely to be '? 
 
 Not in the crowded thoroughfares, to begin 
 with. Not viewing the objects of interest in 
 the Minster, for it was now past the hour 
 at wliich the cathedral could be seen. Was 
 she in the waiting-room at the railway ? She 
 would hardly run that risk. Was she in ono 
 of the hotels ? Doubtful, considering that she 
 was entirely by herself In a pastry-cook's 
 shop '! Far more likely. Driving about in a 
 cab? Possible, certainly; but no more. Loi- 
 tering away the time in some quiet locality out 
 of doors ? Likely enough, again, on that 
 fww autumn evening. The, captain pan.sed, 
 weighed the relative idaims on his attention of 
 tluMpiiet locality and the j)astry -cook's shop ; 
 and decided tor the first of the two. Thorw 
 was time enough to find her at the pastry- 
 cook's, to inquire after her at the pniicijial 
 hotels, or, finally, to intercept her in Mr. 
 Iluxtable's imineiliate neighborhood, from 
 seven to eight. While the Ii;iht lasted the 
 wise course was to use it in lr»oking for her 
 out of doors. Where? The Ksplanaile was 
 a quiet locality ; but she was not there — not 
 ! on the lonely' road beyond, which ran back 
 I by the Abl)ey Wall. ' Where next ? The 
 I captain stoppe<l, looked acros.s the river, 
 i brightened under the influence of a new iilea, 
 I and suddenlv hastened ba<k to the ferry. 
 j " The Walk on the Walls," thought this 
 judicious man, with a twinkle of his narti- 
 ' colored eyes. " The quietest place in York, 
 
72 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 and the place that every stranger goes to 1 
 see." 
 
 In ten minutes more Captain Wragge was 
 exploring the new field of search. lie mounted 
 to tlie walls (which inclose the whole western 
 portion of the city) by the North Street Pos- 
 tern, from which the walk winds round until it 
 ends ao-ain at its southernly extremity in the 
 narrow passage of Rosemary Lane. It was 
 then twenty minutes to seven. The sun had 
 set more than half an hour Jiince; the red light 
 lav broad and low in the cloudless western 
 heaven ; all visible objects were softening in 
 the tender twilight, but were not darken- 
 ing vet. The first few lamps lit in the street 
 below looked like faint little specks of yellow 
 light as the captain started on his walk 
 through one of the most striking scenes which 
 England can show. 
 
 On his right hand, as he set forth, stretched 
 the open (country beyond the walls — the rich 
 freeu meadows, the boundary trees dividing 
 them, the broad windings of the river in the 
 distance, the scattered buildiugs nearer to 
 view ; all wrapped in the evening stillness, all 
 made beautiful by the evening peace. On his 
 left hand, the majestic west front of York 
 IMinster soared over the city, and caught the 
 last brightest light of heaven on the summits 
 of its lofty towers. Had this noble prospect 
 tempted the lost girl to linger and look at it? 
 No ; thus far, not a sign of her. The captain 
 looked round him attentively and walked on. 
 He reached the spot where the iron course 
 of the railroad strikes its way through arches 
 in the old wall. He paused at this place- 
 where the central activity of a great railway 
 enterprise beats with all t he pulses of its loud- 
 clan uing life, side by side with the deail maj- 
 esty '"of the past, deep under the old historic 
 stones which tell of fortified York and the 
 sief^es of two centuries since — he stood on this 
 spjt and searched for her again, and searched 
 in vain. Others were looking idly down at 
 the desolate activity on the wilderness of the 
 iron rails ; but she was not among them. The 
 captain glanced doubtfully at the darkening 
 sky, and walked on. 
 
 He stopped again where the postern of 
 Micklcgate still stands, and still strengthens 
 the city walls as of old. Here the paved walk 
 descends a few steps, passes through the dark 
 stone guard-room of the ancient gate, ascends 
 again, and continues its course southward 
 until the walls reach the river once more. lie 
 paused, and peered anxiously into the dim 
 inner corners of the old guard-room. Was 
 she waiting there for the darkness to come 
 and hide her from prying eyes ? No ; a soli- 
 tary workman loitered through the stone 
 chamber, but no other living creature stirred 
 in the place. The captain mounted the steps 
 which led out from the postern, and walked on. 
 He advanced some fifty or sixty yards along 
 the paved foot-way; the outlying suburbs of 
 York on one side of him, a rope-walk and some 
 
 patches of kitchen garden occupying a vacant 
 strip of ground on the other. He advanced 
 with eager eyes and quickened step — for he 
 saw before him the lonely figure of a woman, 
 standing by the parapet of the wall, with her 
 face set toward the westward view. He ap- 
 proached cautiously, to make sure of her before 
 she turned and observed him. Tlierc was no 
 mistaking tliat tall dark figure as it rested 
 against the parapet with a listless grace. There ' 
 she stood, in her long black cloak and gown, 
 the last dim liglit of evening falling tenderly 
 on her pale, resolute young face. There she 
 stood — not three months since the spoiled 
 (larliug of her parents, the priceless treasure 
 of the household, never left unprotected, never 
 trusted alone — there she stood in the lovely 
 dawn of her womanhood, a castaway in a 
 strange city, wrecked on the world ! 
 
 Vagabond as he was, the first sight of her 
 staggered even the dauntless assurance of 
 Captain Wragge. As she slowly turned her 
 face and looked at him he raised his hat with 
 the nearest approach to respect which a long- 
 life of unblushing audacity had left him capa-.. 
 ble of making. 
 
 " I think I have the honor of addressing the 
 younger Miss Vanstone ?" he began. " Deeply 
 gratified, I am sure, for more reasons than 
 one." 
 
 She looked at him with a cold surprise. No 
 recollection of the day when he had followed 
 her sister and herself on their way home with 
 Miss Garth rose in lier memory while he now 
 confronted her with his altered manner and his 
 altered dress. 
 
 " I think you are mistaken," she said, quiet- 
 ly. " Y'^ou are a perfect stranger to me." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied the captain ; " I am 
 a species of relation. I had the pleasure of 
 seeing you in the spring of the present year. 
 I presented myself on that memorable occasion 
 to an honored preceptress in your late father's 
 family. Permit me, under equally agreeable 
 circumstances, to present myself to you. My 
 name is Wragge." 
 
 By this time he had recovered complete pos- 
 session of his own impudence ; his parti-colored 
 eyes twinkled cheerfully, and he accompanied 
 his modest announcement of himself with a 
 dancing-master's bow. 
 
 Magdalen frowned and drew back a step. 
 The captain was not a man to be daunted by 
 a cold reception. He tucked his umbrella 
 under his arm, and jocosely spelled his name 
 for her further enlightenment. " W^ u,_ A, 
 double G, E — Wragge," said the captain, tick- 
 ing off the letters persuasively on his fingers. 
 
 " I remember your name," said Magdalen. 
 " Excuse me for leaving you abruptly., I have 
 an engagement." 
 
 She tried to pass him and walk on north- 
 ward toward the railway. He instantly met 
 the attempt by raising both hands, and dis- 
 playing a pair of darned black gloves outspread 
 in polite protest. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 7S 
 
 " Not that way," lie said ; " not tliat way, 
 Miss Vanstone, I beg and entreat !" 
 
 " Why not ?" she asked, haughtily. 
 
 " Because,' answered the captain, " that is 
 the way which leads to Mr. Huxtable's." 
 
 In the ungovernable astonishment of hear- 
 ing his reply she suddenly bent forward, and 
 for the first "time looked him close in the face. 
 He sustained her suspicious scrutiny with 
 every appearance of feeling highly gratified 
 by it. " H, u, X — Hux," said the captain, 
 playfully, returning to tlie old joke ; " T, A — 
 ta, Huxta; b, l, k — ble, Iluxtable." 
 
 " What do you know about Mr. Iluxtable ?" 
 she asked. " What do you mean by mention- 
 ing him to me ?" 
 
 The captain's curly lips took a new twist 
 upward. He immediately replied, to the best 
 practical purpose, by producing the hand- 
 bill from his pocket. 
 
 "There is just light enough left," he said, 
 " for young (and lovely) eyes to read by. Be- 
 fore I enter upon the personal statement 
 which your flattering incjuiry claims from me, 
 pray bestow a moment's attention on this 
 Document." 
 
 She took the hand-bill from him. By the 
 last gleam of twilight she read the lines which 
 set a price on her recovery — which publislied 
 the description of her in pititless print, like 
 the description of a strayed dog. No tender 
 consideration had prepared her for the shock, 
 no kind words softened it to her when it came. 
 The vagabond whose cunning eyes watched 
 her eagerly while she read knew no more that 
 the hand-bill which he had stolen had only 
 been prepared in anticipation of the worst, 
 and was only to be publicly used in the event 
 of all more considerate means of tracing her 
 being tried in vain, than she knew it. The 
 bill dropped from her hand ; her face flushed 
 deeply. She turned away from Captain 
 Wragge, as if all idea of his existence had 
 passed out of her mind. 
 
 " Oh, Norah, Norah !" she said to herself, 
 sorrowfully. " After the letter I wrote you — 
 after the hard struggle I had to go away ! 
 Oh, Norah ! Norah !" 
 
 " How is Norah ?" inquired the captain, 
 with the utmost politeness. 
 
 She turned upon him with an angry bright- 
 ness in her lar<rf, gray eyes. " Is this thing 
 shown publicly V" she asked, stamping her foot 
 on it. " Is the mark on my neck described all 
 over York ?" 
 
 " Pray compose yourself," pleaded the per- 
 suasive Wragge. " At pre.sent I have every 
 reason to believe that you have just perused 
 the only copy in circulation. Allow me to 
 pick it up." 
 
 Before he could touch the bill she snatched 
 it from the i>avemcnt, tore it into fragments, 
 and tiircw them over the wall. 
 
 "Bravo!" cried the captain, "you remind 
 me of your poor, dear mother. The family 
 
 10 
 
 spirit, Miss Vanstone. We all inherit our hot 
 blood from my maternal grandfather." 
 
 " How did you come by it?" she asked, sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " My dear creature, I have just told you," 
 remonstrated the captain. " We all come by 
 it from my maternal grandfather." 
 
 "How did you come by that hand-bill?" 
 she repeated, passionately. 
 
 " I beg ten thousand pardons ! My head 
 was running on the family spirit. How did I 
 come by it? Briefly thus." Here Captain 
 Wragge entered on his personal statement — 
 taking his custOBaary vocal exercise through 
 the longest words in the English language, 
 with the highest elocutionary relish. Having 
 on this rare occasion nothing to gain by con- 
 cealment, he departed from his ordinary hab- 
 its, and with the utmost amazement at the 
 novelty of his own situation permitted himself 
 to tell the unmitigated truth. 
 
 The eflcct of the narrative on Magdalen by 
 no means fulfilled Captain Wragge's antici- 
 pations in relating it. She was not startled; 
 she was not irritated ; she showed no disposi- 
 tion to cast herself on his mercy and to seek 
 his advice. She looked him steadily in the 
 face, and all she said when he had neatly 
 rounded his last sentence was — " Go on." 
 
 " Go on ?" repeated the captain. " Shocked 
 to disappoint you, I am sure — but the fact is,. 
 I have done." 
 
 " No, you have not," she rejoined ; " you 
 have left out the end of your story. The 
 end of it is — You came here to look for me ; 
 and you mean to earn the fifty pounds re- 
 ward." 
 
 Those plain words so completely staggered 
 Captain Wragge that for the moment he stood 
 speechless. But he had faced awkward truths 
 of all sorts far too often to be permanently 
 disconcerted by them. Before Magdalen 
 could pursue her advantage the vagabond 
 had recovered his balance ; Wragge was him- 
 self again. 
 
 " Smart," said the captain, laughing indul- 
 gently, and drumming with his umbrella on 
 the pavement. " Some men might take it 
 seriously. I 'm not easily ofll'ended. Try 
 again." 
 
 Magdalen looked at him through the 
 gathering darkness in mute perplexity. All 
 her little experience of society had been 
 experience among people who possessed a 
 common sense of honor, and a common rr^^ 
 sponsibility of social position. She had hi\j^. 
 erto seen nothing but the successful hu'.^^Q 
 product from the great manufactory of Vlvii- 
 ization. Here was one of the failures -^and, 
 with all her quickness, she was puz%l^d;hc)w 
 to deal with it. 
 
 " Pardon me for returning to the subject " 
 pursued the captain. " It has jusc occurred 
 to my mind that you might actually have 
 spoken in earnest. My poor chjjd ' how ran. 
 
74 
 
 NO NAMK. 
 
 I earn the fifty pounds before the reward is ] 
 offered to me ? Those hand-bills may not be i 
 publicly posted for a week to come. Precious 
 as you are to all your relatives (myself includ- 
 ed), take my word for it the lawyers who 
 are managing this case will not pay fifty 
 pounds for you if they can possibly help it. 
 Are you still persuaded that my needy pockets 
 are gaping for the money? Very good. But- 
 ton them up, in spite of me, with your own 
 fair fingers. There is a train to London at 
 nine-forty-five to-night. Submit yourself to 
 your friend's wishes, and go back by it." 
 
 " Never!" said Magdalen, firing at the bare 
 suggestion, exactly as tlie captain had in- 
 tended she should. •' If my mind had not 
 been made up before, that vile h;\nd-liill 
 •would have decided me. I forgive Norah," 
 she added, turning away, and speaking to 
 herself, " but not Mr. Pendril, and not Miss 
 Garth." 
 
 " Quite right !" observed Captain Wragge. 
 " The family spirit. I should have done the 
 same myself at your age : it rutis in the blood. 
 Hark ! there goes the clock again — half-past 
 seven. Miss Vanstone, pardon this seasonable 
 abruptness. If you are to carry out your 
 resolution — if you are to be your own mis- 
 tress mUch longer, you must take a course of 
 some kind before eight o'clock. You are 
 young, you a^'e inexperienced, you are in 
 imrr>nent danger. Here is a position of emer- 
 gency on one side — and here am I, on the 
 other, with an uncle's interest in you, full of 
 advice. Tap me." 
 
 ".Suppose I choose to depend on nobody, 
 and to act for myself V" said Magdalen. 
 "What then?" 
 
 " Then," replied the captain, " you will 
 walk straight into one of the four traps which 
 are set to catch you in the ancient and inter- 
 esting City of York. Trap the fiist, at Mr. 
 Huxtable's house ; trap the second, at all the 
 hotels; trap the third, at the railway station; 
 trap the fourth, at the theatre. Tliat man 
 with the hand-bills has had an hour at his 
 disposal. If he has not set those four traps 
 (with the assistance of the local solicitor) by 
 this time he is not the competent lawyer's 
 clerk I take him for. Come, come, my dear 
 girl ! if there is somebody else in the back- 
 ground whose advice you prefer to mine — " 
 
 " You see that I am alone," siie interpos(!d, 
 proudly. *' If you knew me better, you would 
 know that I depend on nobody but myself." 
 
 Those words decided the only doubt which 
 now remained in the captain's mind — the 
 doubt whether the course was clear before 
 him. The motive of her flight from home was 
 evidently what the hand-bills assumed it to 
 be — a reckless fancy for going on the stage. 
 " One of two things," thought Wragge to 
 himself, in his logical way. " She 's worth 
 more than fifty pounds to me in her present 
 situation, or she isn't. If she is, her friends 
 may whistle for her ! If she isn't, I have only 
 
 to keep her till the bills are posted." Fortified 
 by tiiis simple plan of action the captain 
 returned to the charge, and politely placed 
 Magdalen between the two inevitable alter- 
 natives of trusting herself to him, on the one 
 hand, or of returning to her friends, on the 
 other 
 
 " I respect independence of character 
 wherever I find it," he said, with an air of 
 virtuous severity. " In a young and lovely 
 relative I more than respect — I admire it. 
 But (excuse the bold assertion) to walk on ai 
 way of your own you must first have a way ■ 
 to walk on. Under existing circumstances, , 
 where is your way ? Mr. Huxtable is out of 
 the (juestion, to begin with. 
 
 " Out of the (question for to-night," said 
 Magdalen ; " but what hin'ders me from writ- 
 ing to Mr. Huxtable, and making my own 
 private arrangements with him tor to-mor- 
 row ?" 
 
 " Granted, with all my heart — a hit, a pal- 
 pable hit. Now for my turn. To get to to- 
 morrow (excuse the bold assertion once more) 
 you must first pass through to-night. Where 
 are you to sleep ?" 
 
 " Are there no hotels in York ?" 
 
 " Excellent hotels for large families; excel- 
 lent hotels for single gentlemen. The very 
 worst hotels in the world for handsome young 
 ladies who present themselves alone at the 
 door without male escort, without a maid in 
 attendance, and without a single article of 
 luggage. Dark as it is, I think I could see a 
 lady's box if there was anything of the sort in 
 our Tmmediate neighborhood." 
 
 " My box is at the cloak-room. What is to 
 prevent my sending the ticket for it?" 
 
 " Nothing — if you want to communicate 
 your address by means of your box — nothing 
 whatever. Think; pray think! Do you really 
 suppose that the people who are looking for 
 you are such fools as not to have an eye on 
 the cloak-room? Do you tliink they are such 
 fools — when they find you don't come to Mr. 
 Huxtable's at eight to-night — as not to inquire 
 at all the hotels ? Do you think a young lady 
 of your striking appearance (even if they 
 consented to receive you) could take up her 
 abode at an inn without becoming the subject 
 of universal curiosity and remark ? Here is 
 niglit coming on as fast as it can i* Don't let 
 me bore you : only let me ask once more — 
 Where are you to sleep ?" 
 
 There was no answer to that question : in 
 Magdalen's position there was literally no an- 
 swer to it on her side. She Avas silent. 
 
 " Where are you to sleep ?" repeated the 
 cajjtain. " The reply is obvious — under my 
 roof. Mrs. Wragge will be charmed to see 
 you. Look upon her as your aunt ; pray look 
 upon her as your aunt. The landlady is a 
 widow, the house is close by, there are no 
 other lodgers, and there is a bedroom to let. 
 Can anything be more satisfactory under all 
 the circumstances ? Pray observe, I say noth- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 7S 
 
 inir about to-morrow — I leave to-morrow to 
 you, and confine myself exclusively to the 
 night. 1 may, or may not, command theatrical 
 facilities wliich 1 cim in a jiosition to offer 
 you. Sympathy and admiration may, or may 
 not, be strong \\ithin me when I contemplate 
 the dash and independence of your character. 
 Hosts of examples of bright stars of the Brit- 
 ish dram;), who have begun tiicir apprentice- 
 ship to the stage as you are beginnmg yours, 
 may, or may not, crowd on my memory. These 
 are topics lor the future. For the present I 
 confine myself within my strict range of duty. 
 AVc are within five minutes walk of my pres- 
 ent address. Allow me to offer you my arm. 
 NoV You hesitate? You distrust me V (Jood 
 Heavens ! is it possible you can have, heard 
 anything to my disadvantage?" 
 
 " Quite possible," said Magdalen, without a 
 moment's tiimliing from the answer. 
 
 "jMay I incpiire the particulars?" a.sked the 
 «aptain, with (he politest composure. " Don't 
 spare myteelings; oblige me by speaking out. 
 In the plainest terms, now, what have you 
 lieard ?" 
 
 She answered him with a woman's desper- 
 ate disregard of consecjuences when she is 
 driven to bay — she answered him instantly: 
 
 " I have iunrd you are a Kogue ?" 
 
 " Have you, indeed ?" said the impenetrable 
 Wragge. " A Rogue ? Well! I waive my 
 privilege of setting you right, on that point 
 for a fitter time. For the sake of argument, 
 let us say I am Rogue. What is Mr. IIux- 
 table?" ' 
 
 " A respectable man, or I should not have 
 wen him in the house where we first met." 
 
 '•Very good. Now ob.serve! You talked 
 of writing to ^Ir. Huxtable a minute ago. 
 Wliat do you think a respectable man is 
 likely to do with a young lady who openly 
 acknowledges that she has run away from her 
 home and her friends to go on the stage ? 
 My dear girl, on your own showing, it 's not 
 a respcitable man you want in your present 
 predicament. It 's a Rogue — like me." 
 
 Magdalen laughed bitterly. 
 
 ♦' Then- is some truth in that," she said. 
 " Thank you for recalling me to myself and 
 my circumstances. I have my end to gain — 
 and who am T to pick and choose the way of 
 petting to it? It is my turn to beg pardon 
 now. I have been talking as if 1 was a young 
 lady of family and po?ition. Absurd ! We 
 know better than that, don't we, Captain 
 Wragge ? You are quite right. Nobod3''9 
 child must sleep under Somebody's roof — and 
 ■why not yours ?" 
 
 " This way." said the captain, dcxtrously 
 profiting by the sudden change in her humor, 
 and cunningly refraining from exa,«perating it 
 by saying more himself " This way." 
 
 She followed him a few steps, and suddenly 
 stopped. 
 
 " Suppose I am discovered ?" she broke out, 
 abruptly. *' Who has any authority over me ? 
 
 Who can take me back if I don't choose to 
 go? If they all find me to-morrow, what 
 then? Can't I say No to Mr. Pendril? 
 Can't I trust my own courage with Afisa 
 Garth ?" 
 
 " Can you trust your com-age with your sit- 
 ter?" whispered the captain, who had not for- 
 gotten the references to Norah which had 
 twice escaped her already. 
 
 Her head drooped. She shivered as if the 
 cold night air had struck her. and leaned back 
 wearily against the parapet of the wall. 
 
 " Not with Norah," she said sadly. " I could 
 trust myself with the others. Not with No- 
 rah." 
 
 " This way," repeated Captain Wragge. 
 She roused her.^clf; looked up at the dark- 
 ening heaven, lookeil round at the darkening 
 view. " What must be. must," she said, and 
 followed him. 
 
 The Min.ster clock struck the quarter to 
 eight as they left the Walk on the Wall and 
 descended the steps into IJoscmary Lane. 
 Almost at the same moment the lawyer's clerk 
 from London gave the last instructions to his 
 subordinates, and took up his own position on 
 the opposite side of the river, within easy 
 view of Mr. Iluxtable's door. 
 
 CHAP TKR IT. 
 
 Captain Wragge stopped nearly midway in 
 the one little row of houses composing Rose- 
 mary Lane, and let himself and his guest in at 
 the door of his lodgings with his own key. 
 As they entered the ])assage a care-worn 
 woman, in a widow's cap. made her appear- 
 ance with a candle. '• My niece," said the 
 captain, presenting Magdalen ; " my niece on 
 a visit to York. She has kindly consented to 
 occupy your emjity bedroom. Consider it let, 
 if you please, to my niece — and be very par- 
 ticular in airing the sheets. Is Mrs. Wragge 
 up stairs V Very good. You may lend me 
 your candle. My dear girl, Mrs. Wragge's 
 boudoir is on the first floor; Mrs. Wragge it 
 visible. Allow me to show you the way up." 
 
 As he ascended the stairs first the care- 
 worn widow whispered piteously to Mag- 
 dalen : " 1 hope you 'II pay me, mis.t. Your 
 uncle doesn't." 
 
 The captain threw open the door of the 
 front room on the first floor, and disclosed a 
 female figure, arrayed in a gown of tarnished 
 amber-colored satin, seated solitary on a small 
 chair, with dingy old gloves on its hands, 
 with a tattered old book on its knees, and with 
 one little bedroom eandle by its side. The 
 figure tenninated at ilj upper extremity in a 
 large, smooth, white, round fare like a moon, 
 encircled bv a cap and green ribbons, and 
 dimly irra<liated by eyes of mild and faded 
 blue, which Wiked ftraightforward into va- 
 cancy, and took not the smallest notice of 
 
76 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Magdalen's appearance on the opening of the 
 door. 
 
 "Mrs. Wragge !" cried the captain, shout- 
 ing at her as if she was fast asleep — " Mrs. 
 Wragge !" 
 
 The lady of the faded blue eyes slowly rose 
 to an apparently interminable height. When 
 she had at last attained an upright position 
 she towered to a stature of two or three 
 inches over six feet. Giants of both sexes 
 are, by a wise dispensation of Providence, 
 created for the most part gentle. If Mrs. 
 Wragge and a lamb had been placed side by 
 side, comparison, under those circumstances, 
 would have exposed the lamb as a rank im- 
 postor. 
 
 " Tea, dear ?" inquired Mrs. Wragge, look- 
 ing submissively down at her husband, whose 
 head when he stood on tip-toe barely reached 
 her shoulder. 
 
 " Miss Vanstone the youngpr," said the cap- 
 tain, presenting Magdalen. " Our fair rela- 
 tive, whom I have met by a fortunate accident. 
 Our guest for the night. Our guest !" reiter- 
 ated the captain, shouting once more, as if the 
 tall lady was still fast asleep, in spite of the 
 plain testimony of her own eyes to the con- 
 trary. 
 
 A smile expressed itself (in faint outline) on 
 the large vacant space of Mrs. Wragge's coun- 
 tenance. " Oh '?" she said, interrogatively. 
 " Oh, indeed ? Please, miss, will you sit 
 down ? I 'm sorry — no, I don't mean I 'm 
 sorry ; I mean I 'm glad — " She stopped and 
 consulted her husband by a helpless look. 
 
 " Glad, of course !" shouted the captain. 
 
 " Glad, of course !" echoed the giantess of 
 the amber satin, more meekly than ever. 
 
 " Mrs. Wragge is not deaf," explained the 
 captain. " She 's only a little slow. Consti- 
 tutionally torpid — if I may use the expression. 
 I am merely loud with her (and I beg you will 
 honor me by being loud too) as a necessary 
 stimulant to her ideas. Shout at her — and her 
 mind comes up to time. Speak to her — and 
 she drifts miles away from you directly. Mrs. 
 Wragge !" 
 
 Mrs. Wragge instantly acknowledged the 
 itimulant. " Tea, dear ?" she inquired, for the 
 second time. 
 
 "Put your cap straight !" shouted her hus- 
 band. " I beg ten thousand pardons," he re- 
 sumed, again addressing himself to Magdalen. 
 " The sad truth is, I am a martyr to my own 
 sense of order. All untidiness, all want of 
 system and regularity, causes me the acutest 
 irritation. My attention is distracted, my com- 
 posure is upset ; I can't rest till things are set 
 straight again. Externally speaking, Mrs. 
 Wragge is, to my infinfte regret, the crooked- 
 est woman I ever met with. More to the 
 right !" shouted the captain, as Mrs. Wragge, 
 like a well-trained child, presented herself 
 with her revised head-dress for her husband's 
 inspection. 
 
 Mrs. Wragge immediately pulled the cap to 
 
 the left. Magdalen rose and set it right for 
 her. The moon -face of the giantess bright- 
 ened for the first time. She looked admiringly 
 at Magdalen's cloak and bonnet. " Do you 
 like dress, miss ?" she asked suddenly, in a 
 confidential whisper. " I do." 
 
 " Show Miss Vanstone her room," said the 
 captain, looking as if the whole house belonged ■ 
 to him. "The spare -room, the landlady'! 
 spare-room, on the third floor front. Offer 
 Miss Vanstone all articles connected with 
 the toilet of which she may stand in need. 
 She has no luggage with her. Supply the de- 
 ficiency, and then come back and make tea." 
 
 Mrs. Wragge acknowledged the receipt of 
 these lofty directions by a look of placid be- 
 wilderment, and led the way out of the room, 
 Magdalen following her with a candle pre- 
 sented by the attentive captain. As soon as 
 they were alone on the landing outside, Mrs. 
 Wragge raised the tattered old book which 
 she had been reading when Magdalen was. first 
 presented to her, and which she had never let 
 out of her hand since, and slowly tapped her- 
 self on the forehead with it. " Oh, my poor 
 head !" said the tall lady, in meek soliloquy ; 
 " it 's Buzzing again worse than ever !" 
 
 " Buzzing V" repeated Magdalen, in the ut- 
 most astonishment. 
 
 Mrs. Wragge ascended the stairs without 
 offering any explanation, stopped at one of 
 the rooms on the second floor, and led the 
 way in. 
 
 " This is not the third floor," said Magdalen. 
 " This is not my room, surely ?" 
 
 " Wait a bit," pleaded Mrs. Wragge. "Wait 
 a bit, miss, before we go up any higher. I 've 
 got the Buzzing in my head worse than ever. 
 Please wait for me till I 'm a little better 
 again." 
 
 " Shall I ask for help ?" inquired Magdalen. 
 " Shall I call the landlady ?" 
 
 " Help V" echoed Mrs. Wragge. " Bless 
 you, I don't want help ! I 'm used to it. I 've 
 had the Buzzing in my head, off and on — 
 how many years ?" She stopped, reflected, 
 lost herself, and suddenly tried a question in 
 despair. " Have you ever been at Darch's 
 Dining-Rooms in London '?" she asked, with 
 an appearance of the deepest interest. 
 
 " No," replied Magdalen, wondering at the 
 strange inquiry. 
 
 " That 's where the Buzzing in my head 
 first begun," said Mrs. Wragge, following the 
 new clew with the deepest attention and 
 anxiety. " I was employed to wait on the 
 gentlemen at Darch's Dining-Rooms — I was. 
 The gentlemen all came together ; the gen- 
 tlemen were all hungry together; the gentle- 
 men all gave their orders together — " She 
 stopped, and tapped her head again despond- 
 ently with the tattered old book. 
 
 " And you had to keep all their orders in 
 your memory, separate one from the other ?" 
 suggested Magdalen, helping her out. *' And 
 the trying to do that confused you ?" 
 
 i 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 " That 's it !" said Mrs. Wragge, becoming 
 violently excited in a moment. " Boiled pork 
 and greens and pease-pudding for Number 
 One. Stewed beef and carrots and goose- 
 berry tart for Number Two. Cut of mutton, 
 and quick about it, well done, and plenty of 
 fat, for Number Three. Codfish and pars- 
 nips, two chops to follow, hot-and-hot, or 1 '11 
 be the death of you, for Number Four. Five, 
 six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Cai-rots and 
 gooseberry tart — jiea,«e-j)ndding and plenty 
 of fat — pork and beef and mutton, and cut 
 'em all, and quick about it — stout for one, and 
 ale for t' other — and stale bread here, and 
 new bread there — and this gentleman likes 
 cheese, and that gentleman doesn't — Matilda, 
 Tilda, Tilda, Ti'lda, fifty times over, till I 
 didn't know my own name again — oh lonl ! 
 oh lord!! oli lord!!! all together, all at the 
 same time, all out of temper, all buzzing in 
 my poor head like forty thousand million 
 bees — don't tell the captain! don't tell the 
 captain !" The unfortunate creature dropped 
 the tattered old book, and beat both hands 
 on her head, with a look of blank terror fixed 
 on the door. 
 
 " Hush ! hush !" said Magdalen. " The 
 captain hasn't heai'd you. 1 know what is 
 the matter with your head now. Let me cool 
 it." 
 
 She dipped a towel in water, and pressed 
 it on the hot and helpless head which Mrs. 
 Wragge submitted to her with the docility of 
 a sick child. 
 
 " What a pretty hand you 've got !" said 
 the poor creature, feeling the relief of the 
 coolness, and taking Magdalen's hand admir- 
 ingly in her own. " How soft and white it. 
 is ! I try to be a lady ; I always keej) my 
 gloves on — but I can't get my hands like 
 yours. I 'm nicely dressed though, ain't J ! 
 1 like dress! it 's a comfort to me. I 'm 
 always happy when I 'm looking at my things. 
 I say — you won't be angry with me? I 
 should so like to try your bonnet on." 
 
 Magdalen humored her, with tlie ready 
 com])assion of the young. She .stood smiling 
 and nodding at herself in the glass, with the 
 bonnet perchud on the top of her head. " I 
 had one as pretty as tiiis, once," she said — 
 " only it was white, not black. I wore it 
 when the captain married me." 
 
 " Where did you meet with him ?" asked 
 Magdalen, putting the question as a chance 
 means of increasing her scanty stock of in- 
 formation on the sultject of Captain Wragge. 
 
 " At the Dining-Kooms," .said Mrs. Wragge. 
 " He waa the hungriest and the loudest to 
 wait upon of the lot of 'em. I made more 
 mistakes with him than I did with all the 
 rest of them put together. He uied to 
 swear — oh, didn't he use to gwear ! W^hen 
 he lefl off swearing at me, he married me. 
 There was others wanted me besides him. 
 Bless you, I harl my pick. Why not? When 
 you have a trifle of money lefl you that you 
 
 didn't e.xpect, if that don't make a lady of 
 you, what does? Isn't a lady to have her 
 pick ? I had my trifle of money, and I had 
 my pick, and I pi( keil the captain — I did. 
 He was the smartest and the shortest of them 
 all. He took i-are of me and my money. 
 I 'm here, the money's gone. Don't you put 
 that towel down on t\je tal)le — he won't have 
 tliat! Don't move his razors — don't, please, 
 or I shall forget which is whii-h. I 've got to 
 remember which is which to-morrow nu)rning. 
 Bless you, the captain don't shave himself! 
 He had me taught. T sliave him. I do his 
 hair, and cut Ids nails — he 's awfully particu- 
 lar about his nails. So he is about his trow- 
 seiw. And his shoes. And his newspaper in 
 the morning. And his breakfasts, and lunches, 
 and dinners, and teas — " Slie stopped, struck 
 by a sudden recollection, looked about her, 
 observed the tattered old book on the floor, 
 and clasped her hands in despair. " I 've lost 
 the place !" sue exclaimed, helplessly. " Oh, 
 mercy, what will become of me ! I 've lost 
 the place." 
 
 " Never mind," said Magdalen ; " I '11 soon 
 find the place for you again." 
 
 She picked up the book, looked into the 
 pages, and found that the object of !Mrs. 
 Wraggc's anxiety was nothing more important 
 than an old-fashioned Treatise on the Art of 
 Cookery, reduced under the usual heads of 
 Fish, Flesh, and Fowl, and containing the 
 customary series of recipes. Turning over 
 the leaves, Magdalen came to one particular 
 page, thickly studded with little drqp.* of 
 moisture, half dry. " Curious !" .she said. " If 
 this was anything but a cookery-book 1 should 
 say somebody had been <'rying over it." 
 
 " Somebody '/" echoed ^Irs. Wragge, with 
 a starts of amazement. " It isn't somebody — 
 it 's Me. Thank you kindly, that 's the place 
 sure enough. Bless you ; I 'm used to crying 
 over it ! You 'd cry too if you had to get the 
 captain's dinners out of it. As sure as ever I 
 sit down to this book the Buzzing in my head 
 begins again. Who s to make il out'/ Some- 
 times I think I 've got it, and it all goes away 
 from me. Sometimes I think I haven't got it, 
 and it all comes back in a heap. Look here ! 
 Here 's what he 's ordered for his breakfast 
 to-morrow : ' Omelette with Herbs. Beat up 
 two eggs with a little water or milk, salt, 
 pepper, chives, and parsley. Mince small.' 
 There ! mince small ! How am I to mince 
 small, when it 's all mixed up and running ? 
 ' Put a piece of butter the size of your thumb 
 into the frying-pan.' Look at my thumb and 
 look at yours ! whose size does she mean ? 
 ' Boil but not brown.' If it musn't be brown 
 what color must it be ? She won't tell me ; 
 she expects me to know, and I don't. ' Pour 
 in the omelette.' There ! I can do that. 
 ' Allow it to set, raise it round the edge ; 
 when done, turn it over to double it.' Oh 
 the numbers of times I turned it over and 
 doubled it in my head before you came in to-; 
 
78 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 night ! ' Keep it soft ; put the dish on the 
 iiying-pan and turn it over.' Which am I to 
 turn over — oh mercy, try the cold towel again, 
 and tell me which, the dish or the frying-pan ?" 
 
 " Put the dish on the frying-pan," said Mag- 
 dalen, " and then turn the frying-pan over. 
 That is what it means, I think." 
 
 " Thank you kindly," said Mrs. Wragge, 
 " I want to get it into my head ; please say it 
 again." 
 
 Magdalen said it again. 
 
 " And then turn the frying-jian over," re- 
 peated Mrs. Wragge, with a sudden burst of 
 energy. •' I 've got it now ! Oh tlie lots of 
 omelettes all frying togetiier in my head, and 
 all frying wrong. Much obliged, I am sure. 
 You 've put me all right again ; I am only a 
 little tired with talking. And then turn the 
 frying-pan, then turn the frying-pan, then 
 turn the frying-pan over. "Jt sounds like 
 poetry, don't it V 
 
 Her voice sank, and she drowsily closed 
 her eyes. At the same moment the door of 
 the room below open(>d, and the captain's 
 mellifluous bass notes floated up stairs, charged 
 with the customary stimulant to his wife's 
 faculties. 
 
 " Mrs. Wragge !" cried the captain. " Mrs. 
 Wragge !" 
 
 She started to her feet at that terrible sum- 
 mons. " Oh, what did he tell me to do !" .she 
 asked, distractedly. " Lots of things, and I 've 
 forgotten them all !" 
 
 " Say you have done them when he asks 
 you,'" suggested Magdalen. " They were things 
 for me — things I don't want. I remember all 
 that is necessary. My room is the front room 
 on the third floor. Go down stairs and say I 
 am coming directly." 
 
 She took up the '^andle and pushed Mrs. 
 Wragge out on the lauding. " Say I am com- 
 ing directly," she whispered again — and went 
 up stairs by herself to the third story. 
 
 The room was small, close, and very poorly 
 furnished. In former days Miss Garth would 
 have hesitated to offer such a room to one of 
 the servants at Combe-Raven. But it was 
 quiet ; it gave her a few minutes alone ; and 
 it was endurable, even welcome, on that ac- 
 count. She locked herself in, and walked 
 mechanically, with a woman's first Impulse in 
 a strange bedroom, to the rickety little table 
 and the dingy little looking-glass. 'She waited 
 there for a moment, and then turned away 
 again with weary contempt. " What does It 
 matter how pale I am ?" she thought to her- 
 self, " Frank can't see me — what does it mat- 
 ter now !" 
 
 She laid aside her cloak and bonnet and sat 
 down to collect herself. But the events of 
 the day had worn her out. The past, when 
 she tried to remember it, only made her heart 
 ache. The future, when she tried to pene- 
 trate It, was a black void. She rose again 
 and stood by the uncurtained window — stood 
 
 looking out, as if there were some hidden 
 Sympathy for her own desolation In the deso- 
 late night. 
 
 " Norah !" she said to herself, tenderly ; " I 
 wonder If Norah is thinking of me ? Oh, If 
 I could be as patient as she is ! If I could 
 only forget t!ie debt we owe to Michael Van- 
 stone !" 
 
 Her face darkened with a vindictive de- 
 spair, and she paced the little cage of a room 
 backward and forward softly. " No ; never 
 till the debt Is paid !" Her thoughts veered 
 back again to Frank. " Still at sea, poor fel- 
 low : farther and farther away from me ; sail- 
 ing through the day, sailing through the 
 night. Oh, Frank, love me !" 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears. She dashed 
 them away, made for the door, and laughed 
 with a desperate levity as she unlocked it 
 again. 
 
 " Any company Is better than my own 
 thoughts," slie burst out recklessly, as she left 
 the room. " I 'm forgetting my ready-made 
 relations — my half-witted aunt, and my uncle 
 the rogue." She descended the stairs to the 
 landing on the first floor, and paused there In 
 momentary hesitation. " How will It end ?" 
 she asked herself. " Where is my blindfold 
 journey taking me to now V Who knows and 
 who cares ?" 
 
 She entered the room. 
 
 Captain Wragge was presiding at the tea- 
 tray, with the air of a prince, In his own ban- 
 queting-hall. At one side of the table sat 
 Mrs. Wragge watching her husband's eye like 
 an animal waiting to be fed. At the other 
 side was an emply chair, toward which the 
 captain waved his persuasive hand when 
 ]\Iagdalen came in. " How do you like your 
 room V" he inquired ; " I trust Mrs. Wragge 
 has made herself useful ? You take milk 
 and sugar V Try the local bread, honor the 
 York butter, test the freshness of a new and 
 ricighborlng egg. I offer my little all. A 
 pauper's meal, my dear girl, seasoned with a 
 gentleman's welcome." 
 
 " Seasoned with salt, pepper, chives, and 
 parsley," murmured Mrs. Wragge, catching 
 instantly at a word in connection with cook- 
 ery, and harnessing her head to the om.elette 
 for the rest of the evening. 
 
 " Sit straight at the table !" shouted the 
 captain. " More to the left, more still — that 
 will do. During your absence up stairs," he 
 continued, addressing himself to Magdalen, 
 " my mind has not been unemployed. I have 
 been considering your position, with a view 
 exclusively to your own benefit. If you de- 
 cide on being guided to-morrow by the light 
 of my experience, that light Is unreservedly 
 at your service. You may naturally say, ' I 
 know but little of you, captain, and that little 
 Is unfavorable.' Granted on one condition — 
 that you permit me to make myself and my 
 character quite familiar to you when tea is 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 79 
 
 ••fijsver. False shame is foreign to my nature. 
 
 ' ' You see my wife, my house, my bread, my 
 butter, and my ejzgs, all exactly as they are. 
 See me. too, my "dear girl, while you are 
 about it.*' 
 
 When tea was over Mrs. Wragge, at a sig- 
 nal from her husband, retired to a corner of 
 the room with tlie eternal cookery-book still 
 in her hand. "Mini-e small." she whispered, 
 confideu tially, as she passed Magdalen. "That 
 is a Ti'azer, isn't it V" 
 
 " Down at heel again !" shouted the captain, 
 pointing to his wife's heavy flat feet as they 
 shufiU'd across the room. " The right shoe. 
 Full it up at heel, Mrs. Wragge — pull it up at 
 heel ! Pray allow me," he continued, offering 
 his arm lo Magdalen, and escorting lu-r to a 
 (iirty little horse-hair sofa. " You want repose 
 — afler your long journey, you really want re- 
 pose.' lie drew his chair to the sofa and sur- 
 veyed her with a bland look of investigation — 
 as if lie had been her medical attendant, with 
 a diagno.sis on his mind. 
 
 "Very ])leasant! very pleasant !" said the 
 captain, when he had seen his guest comfort- 
 able on the sofa. " I feel quite in the bosom 
 of my family. Shall we return to our subject 
 -^the subject, of my rascally self? No ! no! 
 No apologies, no protestations, pray. Don't 
 mince the matter on your side — and depend 
 on me not to mince it on mine. Now come to 
 facts; pray come to facts. Who and what am 
 I ■;' Carry your mind back to our conversation 
 on the Walls of this interesting city, and let 
 us start once more from your point of view. I 
 am a Rogue; and in tliat capacity (as I have 
 already pointed out) the most useful man yon 
 could possibly have met with. Now observe ! 
 There aie many varieties of Rogue ; let me 
 tell you my variety to begin with. I am a 
 Swindler." 
 
 His entire shamelessness was really super- 
 human. Not the vestige of a blush varied the 
 sallow monotony of his comj)lexion ; tiie smile 
 wreathed his cui'ly lips as pleasantly as ever; 
 his parti-colored eyes twinkled at Alagdalen 
 with the self-enjoying frankness of a naturally 
 harmless man. Had his wife heard him 'i j 
 Magdalen looked over his shoulder to the 
 corner of the room in which she was sitting j 
 behind him. No: the self-taught student of I 
 cookery was absorbed in her subject. She had 
 advanced her imaginary omelette to the criti- 
 cal stage at which the butter was to be thrown 
 in — that vaguely-measured morsel of butter, 
 the size of your tbumb. !Mrs. Wragge sat lost 
 in contemplation of one of her own thumbs, 
 and shook her head over it, as if it failed to 
 satisfy her. 
 
 " Don't be shocked," proi^ceded the captain ; 
 " don't b(! astonished. Swindler is nothing 
 but a wonl of two syllables. S, W^ I, N, D— 
 swiud ; L, E, R — ler: Swindler. Definition: 
 A monil agriculturist; a man who cultivates 
 the field of human sympathy. I am that moral 
 agriculturist, that cultivating man. Narrow- 
 
 minded mediocrity, envious of my success in 
 my profession, calls me a Swindler. What of 
 that? The same low tone of mind assails 
 men in other professions in a similar manner — 
 calls great writers scribblers — great generals 
 butchers — and so on. It entirely depends on 
 the jmint of view. Adopting your point, 1 
 anuouiu'e myself intelligil)ly as a Swindler. 
 Now return the obligation, and adopt mine. 
 Hear what I have to say for myself in the ex- 
 ercise of my profession. Shall I continue to 
 put it frankly '? ' 
 
 " Yes," said Magdalen ; " and I '11 tell you 
 frankly afterward what I think of it." 
 
 The captain cleared his throat; mentallv 
 assemblcd his entire army of words — horse, 
 foot, artillery, and reserves ; put himself at the 
 head, and dashed into action, to carry the 
 moral intrenchments of Society by a general 
 charge. 
 
 " Now, observe," he began. " Here am I, 
 a needy object. Very good. Without com- 
 plicating the (pieslion by asking how 1 come 
 to be in that condition, I will merely iucpiire 
 whether it is, or is not, the duty of a Ciirislian 
 comnmnity to help the needy. If you say 
 No, you simply shock me ; and there is an (Mid 
 of it. If you say Yes, then I beg to ask. Why 
 am I to blame lor making a Christian commu- 
 nity do its duty? You may say,. Is a careful 
 man who has saved money bound to spend it 
 again on a careless stranger who has saved 
 none ? Why, of course he is ! And on what 
 ground, pray ? Good heavens ! on the ground 
 that he has ^n/ the money, to be sure. All the 
 world over the man who has not got the thing 
 obtains it, on one pretense or another, of the 
 man who has — and in nine cases out of ten 
 the pretense is a false one. What ! your pock- 
 ets are full, and my pockets are em])ty, and 
 you refuse to help me? Sordid wretrh ! do 
 you think I will allow you to violate the sacred 
 obligations of ciiarity in my person 'i I won't 
 allow you — I say distinctly, I won't allow you. 
 Those are my principles as a moral agricul- 
 turist. Princijiics which admit of trickery ? 
 Certainly. Am I to blame if the field of hu- 
 man sympathy can't be cultivated in any other 
 way '.' Consult my brother agriculturists in 
 the mere farming line — do they get their crops 
 for the asking"/ No! they must circumvent 
 arid Nature exactly as I circumvent sordid 
 ^lan. They must plow, and sow, and top- 
 dress, and bottom-dress, and deep-drain, and 
 surface-drain, and all the rest of it. "Why am 
 I to be checked in the vast occupation of deep- 
 draiuing mankind? Why am I to be persecut- 
 ed I'or habitually exciting the noblest feelings 
 of our common nature ? Infamous 1 1 can 
 characterize it by no other word — infamous ! 
 If I hadn't confidence in tin; future I should 
 despair of humanity — but I have confidenco 
 in the future. Yes! one oftlie.se days \when 
 I am dead and gone), as ideas enlarge and 
 enlightenment progresses, the abstract merits 
 of the profession now called swindling will be 
 
80 
 
 NO NAIklE. 
 
 recognized. When tbat day comes don't draj^ 
 me out of my arave and give me a public fu- 
 neral; don't take advantage of my having no 
 voice to raise in my own defense, and insult 
 me by a national statue. No ! do me justice 
 on piy tombstone ; dash me off in one masterly 
 sentence on my epitaph. Here lies Wragse, 
 Embalmed in the tardy recognition of his 
 species : he j)lowod, sowed, and reaped his fel- 
 low-creatures ; and enlightened posterity con- 
 gratulates him on the uniform e.xcellence of 
 his crops." 
 
 He stopped ; not from want of confidence, 
 not from want of words — puroly from want of 
 breath. "1 put it frankly,' with a dash of 
 humor," he said, pleasantly. " I don't shock 
 you, do I ?" Weary and heart-sick as she was, 
 suspicious of others, doubtful of herself, the 
 extravagant impudence of Captain Wragge's 
 defense of swindling touched Magdalen's nat- 
 ural sense of humor, and forced a smile to 
 her lips. " Is the Yorkshire crop a ])articularly 
 rich one just at present V" sIki inquired, meet- 
 ing him, in her neatly feminine way, with his 
 own weapons. 
 
 " A hit — a palpable hit I" said the captain, 
 jocosel}- exhibiting the tails of his threadbare 
 shooting-jacket, as a practical commentarj' on 
 Magdalen's remark. " My dear girl, here or 
 elsewhere, the crop never fails ; but one man 
 can't always gather it in. The assistance of 
 intelligent co-operation is, I regret to say, 
 denied me. I have nothing in common with 
 the clumsy rank and file of my profession, 
 who convict thepiselves, before recorders and 
 magistrates, of the worst of all ofFen-ses — 
 incurable stupidity in the exercise of their 
 own vocation. Such as you see me, I stand 
 entirely alone. After years of successful self- 
 dejiciidence, the penalties of celebrity are 
 beginning to attach to me. On my way from 
 the Nortii, I pause at this interesting city for 
 the third time; I consult my Books for tlie 
 customary refei'cnees to past lo(;al experience; 
 I find under the heading, 'Personal position 
 in York,' the initials T. W. K., signifying 
 Too Well Known. I refer to my Index, and 
 turn to the surrounding neighborhood. The 
 same brief remarks meet my eye. ' Leeds, T. 
 W. K. ; Scarborougli, T. W. K. ; Ilarrowgate, 
 T. W. K.,'and so on. What is the inevitable 
 consequence? I suspend my proceedings; 
 my resources evaporate; and my fair relative 
 finds me at a ci-isis in my career." 
 
 " Your books ?" said Magdalen. " What 
 books do you mean ?" 
 
 "You sliall see," replied the captain. 
 "Trust me or not, as you like — I trust you 
 implicitly. Yon shall see." 
 
 W'ith those words he retired into the back 
 room. While he was gone Magdalen stole 
 another look at ]\Irs. Wragge. Was she still 
 self-isolated from her husband's deluge of 
 words? Perfectly self-isolated. She had 
 advanced tlie imaginary omelette to the last 
 stage of culinary progress; and she was now 
 
 rehearsing the final operation of turning it 
 over — with the palm of her hand to represent 
 the dish, and the cookery-book to impersonate 
 tiie frying-pan. " I 've got it," said Mrs. 
 Wragge. nodding across the room at Magda- 
 len. •' First ])Ut the frying-pan on the dish, 
 and then tumble both of them over." 
 
 Captain Wragge returned, carrying a neat 
 black dispatch-box, adorned with a bright 
 brass lock. He produced from the bo.x five 
 or six plump little books, bound in commercial 
 calf and vellum, and each fitted comfortably 
 with its own little lock. 
 
 " Mind !" said the moral agrlcultui-ist, " I 
 take no credit to myself for this : it is my na- 
 ture to be orderly, and orderly I am. I must 
 have everything down in black and white, or 
 1 should go mad ! Here is my commercial 
 library — Day-Book, Ledger, Book of Districts, 
 Book of Letters, Book of Remarks, and so on. 
 Kindly throw your eye over any one of them. 
 I flatter myself there is no such thing as a 
 blot or a careless entry in it from the first 
 j)age to the last. Look at this room — is there 
 a chair out of place ? Not if I know it ! 
 Look at me. Am I dusty ? am I dirty ? am I 
 half shaved ? Am I, in brief, a speckless 
 pauper, or am I not ? Mind ! I take no 
 credit to myself; the nature of the man, my 
 dear girl — the nature of the man !" 
 
 He opened one of the books. Magdalen 
 was no judge of the admirable correctness 
 with which the accounts inside were all kept, 
 but she could estimate the neatness of the 
 handwriting, the regularity in the rows of 
 figures, the mathematical exactness of the 
 ruled lines in red and black ink, the cleanly 
 absence of blots, stains, or erasures. Although 
 Cui)tain Wragge's inborn sense of order was, 
 in him, as it is in others, a sense too inveter- 
 atfly mechanical to exercise any elevated 
 moral influence over his actions, it had pro- 
 duced its legitimate effect on his habits, and 
 had reduced his rogueries as strictly to method 
 and system as if they had been the commer- 
 cial transactions of an honest man. 
 
 " In appearance my system looks compli- 
 cated V" asked the captain. " In reality it is 
 simplicity itself. I merely avoid the errors of 
 inferior practitioners. That is to say, I never 
 plead for myself; and I never apply to rich 
 peojile — both fafeal mistakes which the infe- 
 rior practitioner perpetually commits. People 
 with small means sometimes have generous 
 impulses in connection with money — rich 
 people, never. My lord, with forty thousand 
 a year; Sir John, with property in half a 
 dozen counties — ^those are the men who never 
 forgive the genteel beggar for swindling them 
 out of a sovereign ; those are the men who 
 send for the mendicity officers ; those are the 
 men who take care of their money. Who are 
 the people who lose shillings and sixpences by 
 sheer thoughtlessness ? Servants and small 
 clerks, to whom siiillings and sixpences are of 
 consequence. Did you ever hear of Roth- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 81 
 
 schild or Baring dropping a fourpenny-piece 
 down a gutter- hole. Fourponce in Roth- 
 schild's pocket is safer than fourpence in the 
 pocket ot that -woman who is crying stale 
 shrimps in Skeldergate at this moment. For- 
 tified by these sound principles, enlightened 
 by the stores of written information in my 
 commercial library, I have ranged through 
 the population for years past, and have raised 
 mv charitable crops with the most cheering 
 gu'cccss. Here, in book Number One. are all 
 my Districts mapped out, with the prevalent 
 public feeling to appeal to in each — IMilitary 
 District, Clerical District, Agricultural Dis- 
 trict; Et eajtera, Et cetera. Here, in Num- j 
 ber Two, arc my eases that I plead: Family 
 of an officer who fell at Waterloo ; Wife of a 
 poor curate stricken down by nervous debil- 
 ity ; Widow of a grazier in diflieulties gored 
 to death by a mad bull ; Et cajtera, Et cJBtera. 
 Here, in Number Three, are the people who 
 have heard of the officer's family, the curate's 
 wife, the grazier's widow, and the people who 
 haven't ; tiie people who have said Yes, and 
 the people who have said No ; the people to 
 try again, the people who want a fresh case 
 to stir them up, the people who are doubtful, 
 the people to beware of; Et cetera, Et ca?- 
 tera. Here, in Number Four, are my Adopted 
 Handwritings of public char.acters; my testi- 
 monials to my own worth and integrity; my 
 Heart-rending Statements of the officer's fam- 
 ily, the curate's wife, and the grazier's widow, 
 Btained with tears, blotted with emotion ; Et 
 cajtera, Et csetera. Here, in Numbers Five 
 and Six, are my own personal subscriptions 
 to lo<'al charities, actually paid in remunera- 
 tive neighborhoods, on the principle of throw- 
 ing a sprat to catch a herring, also, my diary 
 of eaih day's proceedings, my personal reflec- 
 tions and remarks, my statement of existing 
 difiicultie« (such as the difliculty of finding 
 myself T. W. K. in this interesting city) ; my 
 outgoings and incomings; wind and weather; 
 politics and public events ; fluctuations in my 
 own health ; fluctuations in Mi's. Wragge's 
 head ; tiuctuations in our means and meals, 
 our payments, prospects, and principles ; Et 
 caitera, Et cetera. So, my dear girl, the 
 Swindler's Mill goes. So, you see me exactly 
 as 1 am. You knew, before I met you, that I 
 lived on my wits. Well ! have I, or have I 
 not, shown you that 1 have wits to live on ?" 
 
 " I have no doubt you have done yourself 
 full justice," said Magdalea, quietly. 
 
 " 1 am not at all exliausled, ' continued the 
 captain. " I can go on, if necessary, for the 
 rest of the evening. However, if I have done 
 myself full justice, perhaps I may leave the 
 remaining points in my charticter to develop 
 themselves at future opportunities. For the 
 present, I withdraw myself from notice. Exit 
 VVragg<'. And now to business! Permit me ' 
 to in(juirc wliat cflTect I have produced on youx 
 own mind V Do you still believe that the , 
 Rogue who has trusted you with all his secrets 
 11 
 
 is a Rogue who is bent on taking a mean ad- 
 vantage of a fair relative ?" 
 
 "I will wait a little," Magdalen rejoined, 
 before I answer that question." When I came 
 down to tea you tohi me you had been em- 
 ploying your mind for my benefit. May I ask 
 how ?" 
 
 " By all means," said Captain Wra^^ge. 
 " You shall have the net result of the whole 
 mental process. Said process ranges over the 
 present and future })roceedings of your dis- 
 consolate friends, antl of the lawyers who are 
 helping them to find you. Their present pro- 
 ceedings are, in all probability, assuminc the 
 following form: The lawyer's clerk has given 
 you up at Mr. Huxtable's, and has also, by 
 this time, given you up after careful inquiry 
 at all the hotels. His last chance is, that you 
 may send for your box to the cloak-room — you 
 don't send for it — and there the clerk is to- 
 night (thanks to Captain Wragge and Rose- 
 mary l^ne !) at the end of his resources. Pie 
 will forthwith communicate that fact to his 
 employers in London ; and those employers 
 (don't be alarmed !) will apply for help to the 
 detective j)olice. Allowing for inevitable de- 
 lays, a professional spy, with all his wits about 
 him, and with those hand-bills to help him pri- 
 vately in identifying you, will be here, cer- 
 tainly not later than the day after to-morrow — 
 possibly earlier. If you remain in Y'ork, if you 
 attempt to communicate with Mr. Huxtable, 
 that spy will find you out. If, on the other 
 hand, you leave the city before he comes 
 (taking your departure by other means than 
 the railway, of course) you put him in the 
 same predicament as the clerk — you defy him 
 to find a fresh trace of you. There is my brief 
 abstract of your present position. What do 
 you think of it?" 
 
 " I think it has one defect," said Magdalen. 
 " It ends in nothing." 
 
 " Pardon me," retorted the captain ; " it 
 ends in an arrangement for your safe depart- 
 ure, and in a plan for the entire gratification 
 of your wislies in the direction of the stage. 
 Both drawn from the resources of my own ex- 
 perience; and both waiting a word from you, 
 to be poured forth immediately, in the fullest 
 detail." 
 
 " I think I know what that word is," replied 
 Magdalen, looking at him attentively. 
 
 '• Charmed to hear it, I am sure. You haT« 
 only to say, ' Captain Wragge, take charge of 
 me,' and my plans are yours trom that moment" 
 
 " I will fake to-night to consider your pro- 
 posal," she said, after an instant's reflection. 
 " You shall have my answer to-morrow mora- 
 
 Captain Wragge looked a lilUe disappointed. 
 He had not expected the reservation on hit 
 side to be met eo composedly by a reservation 
 on hers. 
 
 "Why not decide at once?" he remon- 
 strated, in his most persuasive tones. " Yoa. 
 liave only to consider — " 
 
82 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 "I have more to consider than you thinV 
 for," she answered. "I have another object 
 in view besides the object you know of." 
 
 " May I ask — ?" 
 
 "Excuse me, Captain Wrajigo — you may 
 not ask. Allow me to thank you for your hos- 
 pitality, and to wisli you good-night. I am 
 worn out. I want rest." 
 
 Once more the captain wisely adapted liim- 
 8elf to her humor, with the ready self-control 
 of an experienced man. 
 
 " Worn out, of course !" ho said, sympa- 
 thetically. " Unpardonable on my part not 
 to have thonjjht of it before. Wt; will resume 
 our conversation to-morrow. Permit me to 
 give you a candle. ]\Irs. Wragfje !" 
 
 Prostrated by menial exertion, Mrs. Wragge 
 was pursuing the course of the omelette in 
 dreams. Her head was twisted one way, and 
 her body the other. She snored meekly. At 
 intervals one of her hands raised itself in 
 the air, shook an imaginary frying-pan, and 
 dropped again with a faint thump on the uook- 
 ery-book in her lap. At the sound of her hu.s- 
 band's voice she started to her feet, and con- 
 fronteii him with her mind fast asleep and her 
 eyes wide open. 
 
 " Assist Mi^s Vanstone," said the captain. 
 •' And the next time you forget yourself in 
 your chair, fall asleep straight — don't annoy 
 me by falling asleep crooked." 
 
 Mrs. Wragge opened her eyes a little wider, 
 and looked at Magdalen in helpless amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 '* Is the captain breakfasting by candle- 
 light?" she inquired, meekly. " And haven't 
 1 done the omelette V" 
 
 Before her husband's corrective voice could 
 apply a fresli stimulant Magdalen took her 
 compassionately by the arm, and led her out 
 of the room. 
 
 " Another object besides the object I know 
 ofV" repeated Captain Wragge, wlien he was 
 left by himself " Is there a gentleman in the 
 bas-k-ground after all V Is there nn'schief brew- 
 \n<r in the dark that I don't bar-jain for?" 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Toward si.x o'clock the next morning the 
 light pouring in on her face awoke Magdalen 
 in the bedroom in Rosemary Laiie. 
 
 She started from her deep dreamless repose 
 of the past night with that painful sense of 
 bewilderment on first waking which is familiar 
 to all slei-pers in strange beds. "Norah," she 
 called out mechanically, Avhen she o])ened her 
 eyes. The next instant her mind roused itself, 
 and Iter senses told her the truth. She looked 
 round the miserable room with a loathing re- 
 cognition of it. The sordid contrast whicii 
 the place presented to all that she had been 
 accustomed to see in her own bedchamber — 
 
 the practical abandonment implied in its scant/ 
 furniture of those elegant purities of personal 
 liabit to which she had been accustomed from 
 her childhood — shocked that sense of bodily- 
 self-respect in Magdalen which is a refined 
 woman's second nature. Contemptible as the 
 influence seemed when compared with her sit- 
 uation at tliat moment, the l)are sight of the 
 jug and basin in al corner of the room decided 
 her first resolution when she woke. She de- 
 termined then and there to leave Rosemary 
 Lane. 
 
 " How was she to leave it ? With Captain 
 Wragge, or without him ? 
 
 Slie dressed herself, with a dainty shrinking 
 from everything in tlie room which her hands 
 or her clotlies touched in the process, and then 
 opened the window. The autumn air felt 
 keen and sweet, and the little patch of sky 
 tliat she could see was warmly bright already 
 with the new sunlight. Distant voices of 
 bargemen on the river, and the chirping of 
 birds among the weeds which topped the old 
 city wall, were the only sounds that broke the 
 morning silence. She sat down by the win- 
 dow, and searched her mind for the thoughts 
 which she had lost when weariness overcame 
 her on the night before. 
 
 The first subject to which she returned was 
 the vagabond subject of Captain Wragge. 
 
 The " moral agriculturist" had failed to re- 
 move her personal distrust of him, cunningly 
 as he had tried to plead against it by openly 
 confessing the impostures that he had practiced 
 on others. He had raised her opinion of his 
 abilities ; he had amused her by his humor; he 
 had astonished her by his assurance, but he 
 had left her original conviction that he was a 
 Rogue exactly where it was when he first met 
 with her. If the one design then in her mind 
 had been the design of going on the stage, she 
 would at all hazards have rejected the more 
 than doubtful assistance of Captain Wragge 
 on the spot. 
 
 But the perilous journey on which she had 
 now adventured hei'self had another end in 
 view — an end dark and distant — an end with 
 pitfalls hidden on the way to it, far other than 
 the shallow pitfalls on the way to the stage. 
 In the mysterious stillness of the morning her 
 mind looked on to its second and its deeper 
 design, and the despicable figure of the swin- 
 dler rose before her in a new view. 
 
 She tried to shut him out — to feel above him 
 and beyond him again, as she had felt up to 
 this time. 
 
 After a little trifling with her dress, she took 
 from her bosom the white silk bag which her 
 own hands had made on the farewell night at 
 Combe- Raven. It drew together at the mouth 
 with delicate silken strings. The first thing 
 she took out on opening it was a lock of 
 Frank's hair, tied with a morsel of silver 
 thnsad ; the next was a sheet of paper con- 
 taining the extracts which she had copied from 
 her father's will and her father's letter; the 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 8S 
 
 l.ast was a closely folded packet of bank-notes, 
 to the value of nearly two hundred pounds — 
 the produce (as Miss Garth had rightly con- 
 jectured) of the sale of her jewelry and her 
 dresses, in which the servant at the hoarding- 
 school had privately assisted her. She put 
 back the notes at once, without a second glance 
 at thcin, and then sat looking thoughtfully at 
 the lock of hair as it lay on her lap. " You 
 are better than nothing," she said, speaking to 
 it with a girl's fanciful tenderness. " I can sit 
 and look at you sometimes till I almost think I 
 am looking at Frank. Oh, my darling ! my 
 darling !" Pier voice faltered softly, and she 
 put tiie lock of hair, with a languid gentleness, 
 to her lips. Jt fell from her fingers into her 
 bosom. A lovely tinge of color rose on her 
 checks, and spread downward to her neck, as 
 if it (bllowed the falling hair. She closed her 
 eyes, and let her fair head droop softly. The 
 world passed from her, and for one enchanted 
 moment Love opened the gates of Paradise to 
 the daughter of Eve. 
 
 The ti i\ iai noises in the neighboring street, 
 gathering in number as the morning advanced, 
 loreed her back to the hard realities of the 
 passing time. Siie raised her head with a 
 heavy .*igh, and oj)ened her eyes once more on 
 the mean and miserable little room. 
 
 The extracts from the will and the letter — 
 those last memorials of her father, now so 
 .closely as.sociated with the purpose which had 
 possession of her mind — still lay before her. 
 The transient color faded from her face as she 
 spread the litth' manuscript open on her lap. 
 The extracts from the will stood iiighest on the 
 page; they were limited to tho.se few touching 
 words in which the dead father begged his 
 children's forgiveness for the stain on their 
 birth, and implored them to remember the un- 
 tiring love and care by Avhich he had striven 
 to atone for it. The extract from the letter 
 to Mr. Pen<lril came next. She read the last 
 melancholy sentences aloud to herself: " P^or 
 God's sake, come on the day when you receive 
 this — come and relieve me from the dreadful 
 thought that my two darling girls are at this 
 moment unprovided for. If anything happened 
 to me, and if my desire to do their mother 
 justice ended (through my mi.'^eraMe ignoranf-e 
 of the law) in leaving Norah and Magdalen 
 disinherited, I shouhi not rest in my grave !" 
 Under these lines again, and close at the bot- 
 tom of the page, wa,s written the t<'rrible <om- 
 mentary on that letter which had fallen from 
 Mr. rcndril's lips : " Mr. Vanstone's daufrhters 
 are Nol>ody's Cliildren, and the law leaves 
 them helpless at their uncle's mercy." 
 
 Ueipless when those words were spoken — 
 helpless still, after all that she had resolved, 
 after all that she had sacrificed. The assertion 
 of her natural rights and her sister's sanctioned 
 by the direct expression of her father's last 
 wish(s; the recall of Frank from China; the 
 justification of her flesertion of Norah — all 
 hung on her desperate purpose of njcovering 
 
 the lost inheritance, at any risk, from the man 
 who had beggared and insulted his brother's 
 children. And that man was still a shadow to 
 her ! So little did she know of him that she 
 was even ignorant at that moment of his place 
 of abode. 
 
 She rose, and paeed the room with the noise- 
 less, negligent grace of a wild creature of the 
 forest in its cage. " How ean [ reach him in 
 the dark?" she said to herself. "How can I 
 find out — V" She stopped suddenly. Before 
 the question had shaped itself to an end in her 
 thoughts Captain Wragg(> was baek in her 
 mind again. 
 
 A man well used to working in the dark ; a 
 man with endless resources of audacity and 
 cunning; a man who would hesitate" at no mean 
 employment that could be offered to him, if it 
 was employment that filled his pockets — was 
 this the instrument for which, in its present 
 nee<l, her hand was waiting? Two of the ne- 
 cessities to be met, before she could take a 
 single step in advance, were jjlainly present to 
 her — the necessity of knowing more of her 
 father's b?-other than she knew now, and the 
 necessity of throwing him off his guard by con- 
 cealing herself personally during the process 
 of inquiry. Resolutely self-(le|)endent as she 
 was, the inevitable spy's work at the outset 
 must be work delegated to another. In her 
 position was there any ready human creature 
 within reach but the vagabond down stairs? 
 Not one. She thought of it anxiously, she 
 thought of it long. Not one! There the choice 
 was, steadily confronting her : the choice of 
 taking the Rogue or of turning her back on 
 I the Purpose. 
 
 She paused in the middle of the room. 
 
 " AVhat can he do at his worst ?" she said to 
 
 ! herself. " Che.it me. Well I if my money 
 
 ' governs him for me, what then ! Ivf t him have 
 
 my money!" She returned mechanically to 
 
 j her place by the window. A moment more 
 
 ! deci<led her. A moment more, and she took 
 
 the first fatal stejj downward — .she determined 
 
 to face the risk and try Cajitain Wragge. 
 
 At nine o'clock the landlady knocked at 
 Magdalen's door, and informed her (with the 
 captain's kind compliments) that breakfast wai| 
 ready. A 
 
 She found Mrs. Wragge alone, attirfnl in a 
 j voluminous brown Holland wrapper, with a 
 limp cape and a trimming of dingy pink rib- 
 bon. The ex-waitress at Darch's Dining- 
 Rooms was absorbed in the crmtemplation of a 
 large dish, containing a leathery hwking sub- 
 stance of a mottled yellow color, profusely 
 sprinkled with little bla< k spots. 
 
 "There it is I" said Mrs. Wragge. "Ome- 
 lette with herbs. The landlady helped me. 
 And that's what wc 'vc made of it. Don't 
 you ask the captain for any when he comei 
 in — don't — there 's a good soul ! It isn't nice. 
 We had some a<"eid('nfs with it. It '• been 
 under the grate. It's Wen spilled on the 
 
34 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 stairs. It 's scalded the landlady's younjrest 
 boy — he went and sat on it. Bless you, it isn't 
 half as nice as it looks ! Don't you ask for 
 ;any. Perhaps he won't notice if you say noth- 
 ing about it. What do you think of my wrap- 
 per? I should so like to have a white one! 
 Have you got a white one ? How is it triuimedy 
 Do tell me !" 
 
 The formidable entrance of the captain sus- 
 pended the ne.xt question on her lips. For- 
 tunately for Mrs. Wragge lier husband was far 
 -too an.xious for the promised expression of 
 Magdalen's decision to pay iiis customary atten- 
 tion to questions of cookery. When break- 
 fast was over he dismissed Mrs. W^ragge, and 
 merely referred to the omelette by tolling her 
 that she had his full permission to "give it to 
 the dog." 
 
 " How does my little proposal look by day- 
 light ?" he asked, placing chairs for Magdalen 
 and liimself. " Which is it to be : * Captain 
 Wragge, take charge of me ?' or, ' Captain 
 Wragge, good morning ?' " 
 
 " You shall hear directly," replied Magda- 
 len. " I have something to say first. I toid 
 you last night tliat I had another object in 
 view besides the object of earning my living 
 on the stage — " 
 
 " ^ beg your pardon," interposed Captain 
 Wragge. " Did you say, earning your living?" 
 
 " Certainly. Both my sister and myself 
 must depend on our owij exertions to gain our 
 daily bread." 
 
 " What ! ! !" cried the captain, starting to 
 his feet with a blank stare of dismay. " The 
 daughters of my wealthy and lanient<!d rela- ! 
 tive by marriage reduced to earn their own j 
 living? Impossible — wild!>', extravagantly 
 impossible!" He .sat down .gain, and looked 
 at Magdalen as if she had iiirticted a personal 
 injury on him. 
 
 " You are not acquainted with the full ex- 
 tent of our misfortune," she said, quietly. ^' I 
 will tell you what has liappened before I go 
 any farther." She told linn at once, in tlu' 
 plainest terms .she coulil find, and with as few 
 details as possible. 
 
 Captain Wragge's profound bewilderment 
 left him conscious of hut one distinct result, 
 produced by the narrative on his own mind, 
 'he lawyer's olfer of Fifty Pounds Reward' 
 ior the missing young lady ascendeil instantly 
 to a place in his estimation which it had never 
 -occupied until that moment. 
 
 *» Do I understand," he intjuired, " that you 
 are entirely deprived of present resources ?" 
 
 "I bave sold my jewelry and my dresses," 
 said Magdalen, impatient of his mean harping 
 on the pecuniary string. " If my want of ex- 
 perience keeps me back in a theatre I can 
 afford to wait till the stage can afford to pay 
 me." 
 
 Captain Wragge mentally apprized the rings, 
 bracelets, and necklaces, the silks, satins, and 
 laces of the daughter of a gentleman of for- 
 tune, at- — say, a third of their real value. In 
 
 a moment more the Fifty Pounds Reward sud- 
 denly sank again to the lowest depths in the 
 deep' estimation of this judicious man. 
 
 " Just so," he said, in his most business-like 
 manner. " There is not the least fear, my dear 
 girl, of vour being kept back in a theatre if 
 \ou possess present resources, and if you profit 
 by my assistance." 
 
 " I must accept more assistance than you 
 have already offered or none," said Magdalen. 
 " I have more serious difficulties before me 
 than the difficulty of leaving York, and the 
 difliculty of finding my way to the stage." 
 
 " You don't say so ! I am all attention ; 
 pray explain yourself" 
 
 She considered her next words carefully 
 before they passed her lips. 
 
 " There are certain inquiries," she said, 
 " which I am interested in making. If I under- 
 took them mj'self, I should excite the suspicion 
 of the person inquired after, and should learn 
 little or nothing of what I wish to know. If 
 the inquiries could be made by a stranger, 
 without my being seen in the matter, a service 
 would be rendered me of much greater im- 
 portance than the service you offered last 
 night." 
 
 Captain Wragge's vagabond face became 
 gravely and deeply attentive. 
 
 " May I ask," 1*6 said, "what the nature of 
 the inquiries is likely to be?" 
 
 Magdalen paused. She had necessarily men- 
 tioned Michael Vanstone's name in informing 
 the captain of the loss of her inheritance. 
 She must inevitably mention it to him again if 
 she employed his services. Hs; would doubtle&n 
 discover it for himself, by a plain process of 
 inference, before she said many words more, 
 frame them as carefully as she might. Under 
 these circumstances was there any intelligible 
 reason for' shrinking from direct reference to 
 Michael Vanstone ? No intelligible reason — 
 and yet she shrank. 
 
 " For instance," pursued Captain Wragge, 
 "are they inquiries about a man or a woman, 
 inquiries about an enemy or a friend — ?" 
 
 " An enemy," she ansv/ered, quickly. 
 
 Her reply might still have kept the cap- 
 tain in the dark, Init her eyes enlightened 
 him. " Michael V^anstone !" thought the wary 
 Wragge. " She looks dangerous 5 I '11 feel my 
 way a little farther." 
 
 " With regard, now, to the person who is 
 the object of these inquiries," he resumed. 
 " Are you thoroughly clear in your own mind 
 about what you want to know ?" 
 
 " Perfectly clear," replied Magdalen. " I 
 want to know where he lives, to begin with." 
 
 " Yes ? And after that ?" 
 
 " I want to know about his habits ; about 
 who the people are whom he associates with ; 
 about what he does with his money — " She 
 considered a little. "And one thing more," 
 she said; "I want to know whether there ia 
 any woman about his house — a relation or a 
 housekeeper — who has an influence over him." 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 85 
 
 " Harmless enough so far," said the captain. 
 " What next ?" 
 
 " Nothing. The rest is my secret." 
 
 The clouds on Captain Wragpos counte- 
 nance began to clear away again. He reverted 
 with his customary precision to his customary 
 choice of alternatives. " These inquiries of 
 hers," he thought, "mean one of two things — 
 Mischief or Money ! If it 's Mis-bicf, I 'II slip 
 through her fingers. If it 's Money, I '11 make 
 myself useful, with a view to the future." 
 
 Magdalen's vigilant eyes watclied the prog- I 
 ress of his reflections suspiciously. " Captain j 
 Wra"gc," slie said, " if you want time to con- 
 sider, say so plainly." 
 
 " I don't want a moment," replied the cap- 
 tain. " Place your departure from York, your 
 dramatic career, and your private inquiries 
 under my care. Here I am, unreservedly at 
 your disposal. Say the word — do you t;ike meV" 
 
 Her heart beat fast, her lips turned dry, but 
 she said the word. 
 
 " I do." 
 
 There was a pause. Magdalen sat silent, 
 struggling with the vague dread of the future 
 whiili had been roused in her mind by her 
 own reply. Captain Wragge, on his side, was 
 apparently absorbed in the consideration of a 
 new set of alternatives. His hands descended 
 into his empty pockets, and prophetically 
 tested their capacity as receptacles for gold 
 and silver. Ihe brightness of the precious 
 nu'tals was in his face, the smoothness of the 
 precious metals was in his voice, as he pro- 
 vided himself with a new supply of words, 
 and resumed the conversation. 
 
 " The next question," he said, " is the ques- 
 tion of time. D6 these confidential investiga- 
 tions of ours require immediate attention, or 
 can they wait ?" 
 
 " For the present they can wait," replied 
 .Magdalen. " I wish to secure my freedom 
 from all interference on the part of my friends 
 before th.c inquiries arc made." 
 
 " ^'crv good. The first step toward accom- 
 plishing that object is to beat our retreat — ex- 
 cuse a professional metaphor from a military 
 man — to beat our retreat from York to-mor- 
 row. I sec my way plainly so far; but I am 
 all abroad, as we used to say in the militia, 
 about my marching orders afterward. The 
 next direction we take ought to be chosen 
 with .in (ye to advancing your dramatic views. 
 1 am all ready, when I know what \()ur views 
 are. How came you to think of the theatre 
 at all V I see the Ba<;red fire burning in you ; 
 tell me, who lit it V" 
 
 Magdalen could only answer him in one 
 way. .She could only ]o<tk hack at the days 
 that were gone for ever, and tell him the story 
 of her first st(^ toward the !«tage at Ever- 
 green Ixxlge. Captain Wragge listened with 
 his usual politeness, but he evidently derived 
 no satisfactory impression from what he heard. 
 Audiences of friends were audiences whom he 
 
 privately declined to trust, ami the opinion of 
 the stage-manager was the opinion of a man 
 who spoke with his fee in his pocket and his 
 eye on a future engagement. 
 
 " Interesting, deeply interesting," he said, 
 when Magdalen had done ; " but not conclu- 
 sive to a practical man. A specimen of your 
 abilities is ne.cessaJ'y to enlighten me. I have 
 been on the stage myself; the comedy of The 
 Rivals is familiar to me from beginning to end. 
 A sample is all I want, if you have not for- 
 gotten the words — a sample of * Lucy,' and a 
 sample of ' Julia.' " 
 
 " I have not forgotten the words," said ^lag- 
 dalen, sorrowfully; "and I have the little 
 books with me in which my dialogue was 
 written out. I have never partc.'d with them ; 
 they remind me of a time — " Her lip trembled, 
 ami a pang of the heartache silenced her. 
 
 " Nervous," remarked the captain, indul- 
 gently. " Not at all a bad sign. The great- 
 est actresses on the stage are nervous. Follow 
 their example, and get over it. Where are 
 the parts? Oh, here they are ! Very nicely 
 written, and remarkably clean. I 'II give you 
 the cues — it will all be over (as the dentists 
 say) in no time. Take the back drawing-room 
 for the stage, and take me for the audience. 
 Tingle goes the bell, up runs the curtain, 
 order in the gallery, silence in the pit — enter 
 Lucy !" 
 
 She tried hard to control herself; she forced 
 back the sorrow — the innocent, natural, hu- 
 man sorrow for the absent and the dead — 
 pleading hard with her for the tears that she 
 relused. Resolutely, with cold, clenched hands, 
 she tried to begin. As the first familiar words 
 passed her lips Frank came back to her from 
 the sea, and the face of her ih-ad father looked 
 at her with the smile of happy old times. The 
 voices of her mother and her sister talked 
 gentlj' in the fragrant country stillness, and 
 the garden -walks at Combe- Raven opened 
 once more on her view. With a faint wailing 
 cry she dropped into a chair, her head fell 
 forward on the table, and she burst passion- 
 ately into tears. 
 
 Captain Wragge was on his feet in a mo- 
 ment. She shuddered as he came near her, 
 and waved him ba<k vehemently with her 
 hand. " Leave mt; !" she said ; " leave me a 
 minute by myself!" The compliant Wragge 
 retired to the front room, look«'d out of win- 
 dow, and whistled under his breath. " The 
 family spirit again !" he said. " Complicated 
 by hysterics." 
 
 After waiting a minute or two he returned 
 to make inciuines. 
 
 " Is there anything I can offer you ?" 
 he asked. "Cold water? burned feathers? 
 smelling salts? mudical a.<sistance? Shall I 
 summon Mrs. Wragge ? Shall wc put it off 
 till to-morrow ?' 
 
 She started up, wild and flushed, with a 
 desperate self-command in her face, with an 
 angry resolution in her manner. 
 
86 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 " No !" she said. " I must harden myself— 
 and I will! Sit down again and see me act." 
 
 "Bravo!" cried the captain. "Dash at it, 
 my beauty, and it 's done !" 
 
 She dashed at it with a mad defiance of her- 
 self, with a raised voice and a glow like fever 
 in her cheeks. All the artless, girlish charm 
 of the performance in happier and better days 
 was gone. The native dramatic capacity that 
 was in her came, hard and bold, to the surface, 
 stripped of every softening allurement which 
 had once adorned it. She would have sad- 
 dened and disappointed a man with any de- 
 licacy of feeling. She absolutely electrified 
 Captain Wragge. He forgot his politeness; 
 he forgot his long words. The essential spirit 
 of the man's whole vagabond life burst out of 
 him irresistibly in his first exclamation. "Who 
 the devil would have thought it? She can 
 act, after all!" The instant the words es- 
 caped his lips he recovered himself, and glided 
 oft' into his ordinary colloquial channels. Mag- 
 dalen stopped him in the middle of his first 
 compliment. " No," she said ; "I have forced 
 the truth out of you for once. I want no 
 more." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied the incorrigible 
 Wragge. " You want a little instruction, 
 and I am the man to give it you." ^ 
 
 With that answer he placed a chair for her, 
 and proceeded to explain himself 
 
 She sat down in silence. A sullen indiffer- 
 ence began to show itself in her manner ; her 
 ♦iheeks turned pale again, and her eyes looked 
 wearily vacant at the wall before her. Cap- 
 tain A\'"ragge noted these signs of heart-sick- 
 ness and discontent with herself after the effort 
 she had made, and saw the importance of 
 rousing her by speaking for once plainly and 
 directly to the point. She had set a new value 
 on herself in his mercenary eyes. She had 
 suggested to him a speculation in her youth, 
 her beauty, and her marked ability for the 
 stage which had never entered his mind until 
 he saw her act. The old militia -man was 
 quick at his shifts. He and his plans had 
 both turned right about together when Mag- 
 dalen sat down to hear what he had to say. 
 
 " Mr. Huxtable's opinion is my opinion," he 
 began. "You are a born actress. But you 
 must be trained before you can do anything 
 on the stage. I am disengaged — I am com- 
 petent — I have trained others — I can train 
 you. Don't trust my word: trust my eye to 
 my own interest. I 'II make it my interest to 
 take pains with you, and to be quick about it. 
 You shall pay me for my instructions from 
 your profits on the stage. Half your salary 
 tor the first year ; a third of your salarj) for 
 the second year ; and half the sum you clear 
 by your first benefit in a London theatre. 
 What do you say to that ? Have I made it 
 my interest to push you, or have I not ? 
 
 So far as appearances went, and so far as 
 the stage went, it was plain that he had 
 linked his interests and Magdalen's together. 
 
 She briefly told him so, and waited to hear 
 more. 
 
 " A month or six weeks study," continued 
 the captain, " will give me a reasonable idea 
 of what you can do best. All ability runs in 
 grooves, and your groove remains to be found. 
 We can't find it here, for we can't keep you a 
 close prisoner for weeks together in Rosemary 
 Lane. A quiet country place, secure from 
 all interference and interruption, is the place 
 we want for a month, certain. Trust my 
 knowledge of Yorkshire, and consider the 
 place found. I see no difficulties anywhere, 
 except the diflSculty of beating our retreat 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " I thought your arrangements were made 
 last night ?" said Magdalen. 
 
 " Quite right," rejoined the captain. " They 
 were made last night, and here they are. We 
 can't leave by railway, because the lawyer's 
 clerk is sure to be on the look-out for you at 
 the York terminus. Very good ; we take to 
 the road instead, and leave in our own car- 
 riage. Where the deuce do we get it ? We 
 get it from the landlady's brother, who has a 
 horse and chaise which he lets out for hire. 
 That chaise conicg to the end of Ro.semary 
 Lane at an early hour to-morrow morning. 
 I take my wife and my niece out to show 
 them the beauties of the neighborhood. We 
 have a picnic hamper with us which marks 
 our purpose in the public eye. You disfigure 
 yourself in a shawl, bonnet, and veil of Mrs. 
 Wragge's; we turn our backs on York, and 
 away we drive on a pleasure-trip for the day 
 — you and I on the front seat, Mrs. Wragge 
 and the hamper behind. Good again. Once 
 on the high-road what do we do ? Drive to the 
 first station beyond York, northward, south- 
 ward, or eastward, as may be hereafter deter- 
 mined. No lawyer's clerk is waiting for you 
 there. You and Mrs. Wragge get out — first 
 opening the ham{)er at a convenient oppor- 
 tunity. Instead of containing chickens and 
 Cliampagne, it contains a carpet-bag with the 
 things you want for the night. You take 
 your tickets for a place previously determined 
 on, and I take the chaise back to York. Ai^ 
 rived once more in this house I collect the 
 luggage left behind, and send for the woman 
 down stairs. ' Ladies so charmed with such- 
 and-such a place (wrong place, of course) 
 that they have determined to stop there. 
 Pray accept the customary week's rent in 
 place of a week's warning. Good-day.' Is 
 the clerk looking for me at the York ter- 
 minus'? Not he. I take my ticket under hb 
 very nose ; I follow you with the luggage 
 along your line of railway — and where is 
 the trace left of your departure ? Nowhere. 
 The fairy has vanished, and the legal autliori- 
 ties are left in the lurch." 
 
 " Why do you talk of difftulties ?" asked 
 Magdalen; "the difficulties seem to be pro- 
 vided for." 
 
 " All but ONE," said Captain Wragge, with 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 8% 
 
 an ominous emphasis on the last word. " The 
 Grand Difficulty of humanity fronvthe cradle 
 to the grave — Money." He .slowly winked 
 his green eye, sighed with deep feeling, and 
 buried his insolvent hands in his unproductive 
 pockets. 
 
 " Wliat is the money wanted for?" inquired 
 Mag<lalen. 
 
 "To pay my bills," replied the captain, 
 with a touching simplicity. " Pray under- 
 stand ! I never was, and never shall be, per- 
 sonally desirous of paying a single farthing to 
 any human creature on the habitable globe. 
 I am .sj)eaking in your interests, not In mine." 
 
 " My interes^ts V" 
 
 " Certainly. You can't get safely away 
 from York to-morrow without the chaise. And 
 1 can't get the chaise without money. The 
 landlady's brother will lend it, if he sees his 
 sister's bill receipted, and if he gets his day's 
 hire beforehand — not otherwi.<e. Allow me 
 to put the transaction in a business light. 
 We have agrec^d that 1 am to be remunerated 
 for my course of dramatic instruction out of 
 your future earnings on the stage. Very 
 good. I merely draw on my future pros- 
 pects; and you, on whom those prospects 
 depend, are naturally my banker. For mere 
 argument's sake estimate my share in your 
 first year's salary at the totally inadequate 
 value of a hundred pounds. Halve that sum; 
 quarter that sum — " 
 
 •' How much do you want?" said Magdalen, 
 imj)atiently. 
 
 Captain Wragge was sorely tempted to 
 take the Reward at the top of the hand-bills 
 as his basis of calculation. But he felt the 
 vast future importance of present moderation; 
 and, actually wanting some twelve or thirteen 
 pounds, he merely doubled the amount and 
 said, " Five-and-twenty." ' 
 
 JNlagdalen took the little bag from her 
 bosom and gave him the money, with a con- 
 temptuous wonder at the number of words 
 Avhich he had wasted on her for the pur])ose 
 of cheating on so small a scale. In the old 
 days at Combe-Raven five-and-twenty pounds 
 flowed from a stroke of her father's pen into 
 the hands of any one in the house who chose 
 to ask lor it. 
 
 Captain Wragge's eyes dwelt on the little 
 bag as the eyes of lovers dwell on their mis- 
 tresses. " Hap])y bag !" he murmured, as she 
 jiut it back in lier bosom. He rose, dived 
 into a corner of the room, produced his neat 
 dispatch-box, and solemnly .unlocked it on the 
 table between Magilalen and himself 
 
 "The nature of the man, my dear girl — 
 the nature of the man," he said, opening one 
 of his plump little books bound in calf and 
 vellum. " A transaction has taken place be- 
 tween us. I must have it down in black and 
 white."' He opened the book at a blank page 
 and wrote at the top, in a fine mercantile 
 hand: ^^ Miss Vanstone the Younger: In ac- 
 count with Horatio Wrayge, late of the Royal 
 
 Militia. Dr—C-- Sept. 24, 1846. Dr-: To 
 ei^timated value of II. Wragge'.'f interest in 
 Miss V.'s first year's salary — say £'200. C*"- 
 By paid on account £2»." Having completed 
 the entry — and having also shown, by doub- 
 ling his original estimate on the Debtor side, 
 that Magdalen's easy comjiliance with his de- 
 mand on her had not been thrown away on 
 him — the captain pressed his blotting-paper 
 over the wet ink, and put away the book with 
 the ' air of a man who had clone a virtuous 
 action, and who was above boasting about it. 
 j " Excuse me for leaving you abruptly," he 
 said. •' Time is of importance ; I must make 
 I sure of the chaise. If Mrs. Wragge comes in 
 I tell her nothing — she is not sharp enough to 
 be trusted. If she presumes to ask questions, 
 extinguish her immediately. You have only 
 to be loud. Pray take my authority into 
 your own hands, and be as loud with Mrs. 
 Wragge as I am !" He snatched up his hat, 
 bowed, smiled, and tripped out of the room. 
 
 Sensible of little else bat of the i-elief of 
 being alone, feeling no more distinct impres- 
 sion than the vague sense of some serious 
 change having taken place in herself and her 
 position, Magdalen let the evtnts of the morn- 
 ing come and go like shadows on her mind, 
 and waited wearil}' for what the day might 
 bring forth. After the lapse of some time 
 the door opened soflly. The giant figure 
 of Mrs. Wragge stalked into the room, and 
 stopped opposite Magdalen in solemn aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 " Where are your Things ?" asked Mrs. 
 Wragge, with a burst of incontroliable anx- 
 iety. " I 've been up stairs looking in your 
 drawers. Where are your nightgowns and 
 nightcaps ? and your petticoats and stock- 
 ings ? and your hairpins and bear's grease, 
 and all the rest of it?" 
 
 " My luggage is left at the railway-station," 
 said Magdalen. 
 
 Mrs. Wragge's moon-face brightened dimly. 
 Tiie ineradicable female instinct of Curiosity 
 tried to sparkle in her faded blue eyes — fiick- 
 ered piteously — and died out. 
 
 " How much luggage?'' she asked confiden- 
 tially. " The captain 's gone out. Let 's go 
 and get it !" 
 
 " ^Ii-s. Wragge !" cried a terrible voice at 
 the door. 
 
 For the first time in Magdalen's experi- 
 ence Mrs. AA'ragge was deaf to the customary 
 stimulant. She actually ventured on a feeble 
 remonstrance in tlic presence of her husband. 
 
 " Oh, do let her have her Things ! ' {)leaded 
 Mrs. Wragge. " Oh, poor soul, do let her 
 have her Tilings!" 
 
 The captain's inexorable forefinger pointed 
 to a corner of the room, dropped slovrly as 
 his wife retired before it, and suddenly stopped 
 at the region of her shoes. 
 
 " Do I hear a clapping on the floor !" e.\- 
 claimed Cajitain Wragge, witjj an expression 
 of horror. " Yes, I do. Down at heel again I 
 
88 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 The left shoe this time. Pull it up, Mrs. 
 Wragge, pull it up ! The chaise will be here 
 to-morrow morning at nine o'clock," he con- 
 tinued, addressing Magdalen. " We can't jjo.s- 
 sibly venture on claiming your box. Tliere 
 is note-paper. Write down a list of the nec- 
 essaries you want. I will take it myself to 
 the shop, pay the bill for you, and bring back 
 the parcel. We must sacrifice the box — we 
 must, indeed." 
 
 While her husband was addressing Magda- 
 len Mrs. Wragge had stolen out again from 
 her corner, and had ventured near enough to 
 the captain to hear the words "shop' and 
 " parcel." She clapped her great hands to- 
 gether in ungovernable excitement, and lost 
 all control over herself immediately. 
 
 " Oh, if it 's shopping, let me do it !" cried 
 Mrs. Wragge. " She 's going out to buy her 
 Things! Oh, lot me go with her — please let 
 me go with her !" 
 
 " Sit down !' shouted the captain. "Straight ! 
 more to the right — more still. Stop where 
 you are!" 
 
 Mrs. Wragge crossed her helpless hands on 
 her lap and melted meekly i:^to tears. 
 
 " I do so like shopping," pleaded the poor 
 creature, " and I get so little of it now !" 
 
 Magdalen completed her list, and Captain 
 Wragge at once left the room with it. " Don't 
 let my wife bore you," he said, pleasantly, as 
 he went out. "Cut her short, poor soul — 
 cut her short !" 
 
 " Don't cry," said Magdalen, trying to com- 
 fort Mrs. Wragge by patting her on the shoul- 
 der. " When the parcel comes back you shall 
 open it." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear," said Mrs. Wragge, 
 meekly drying her eyes ; " thank you kindly. 
 Don't notice my handkerchief, please. It '■ 
 such a very little one ! I had a nice lot of 
 'em once with lace borders. They 're all 
 gone now. Never mind ! It will comfort me 
 to unpack your things. You 're very good to 
 me. I like you. I say — you won't be angry, 
 will you ? Give us a kiss." 
 
 Magdalen stooped over her with the frank 
 grace and gentleness of past days, and touched 
 her faded clieek. " Let me do something 
 harmless !" slie thought, with a pang at her 
 heart — "oh, let me do something innocent 
 and kind for the sake of old times 1 ' 
 
 She felt her eyes moistening, and silently 
 turned away. 
 
 That night no rest came to her. That 
 night the roused forces of Good and Evil fought 
 their terrible fight for her soul, and left the 
 strife between them still in suspense when 
 morning came. As the clock of York Min- 
 ster struck nine she followed Mrs. Wragge to 
 the chaise, and took her seat by the captain's 
 side. In a quarter of an hour more York 
 was in the distance, and the high-road lay 
 bright and open before them in the morning 
 sunlight. 
 
 THE END OF THE SECOXD SCENE. 
 
 BETWEEN THE SCENES. 
 
 CHRONICLE OF EVENTS: PRESERVED IN 
 CAPTAIN WRAGGE'S DISPATCH-BOX. 
 
 I. 
 
 [Chronu-lc for October, 1846.] 
 
 I have retired into the bosom of my family. 
 We are residing in the secluded Village of 
 Ruswarp, on the banks of the Esk, about two 
 miles inland from Whitby. Our lodgings are 
 comfortable, and we possess the additional 
 blessing of a tidy landlady. Mrs. Wragge 
 and Miss Vanstone preceded me here in ac- 
 cordance with the plan I laid down for effect- 
 ing our retreat from York. On the next day 
 I followed them alone with the luggage. On 
 leaving the terminus, I had the satisfaction of 
 seeing the lawyer's clerk in close confabula- 
 tion with the detective officer whose advent I 
 had prophesied. I left him in peaceable pos- 
 sessioft of the City of York, and the whole 
 surrounding neighborhood. He has returned 
 the compliment, and has left us in peaceable 
 possession of the Valley of the Esk, thirty 
 miles away from him. 
 
 Remarkable results have followed my first 
 efforts at the cultivation of Miss Vanstone's 
 dramatic abilities. 
 
 I have discovered that she possesses extra- 
 ordinary talent as a mimic. She has the 
 flexible face, the manageable voice, and the 
 sharp dramatic perception which fit a woman 
 for character-parts and disguises on the stage. 
 All she now wants is teaching and practice to 
 make her sure of her own resources. The 
 experience of her, thus gained, has revived an 
 idea in my mind, which originally occurred to 
 me at one of the " At Homes " of the late 
 inimitable Charles Mathews, comedian. I 
 was in the Wine Trade at the time, I remem- 
 ber. We imitated the Vintage-processes of 
 Nature in a back kitchen at Brompton ; and 
 produced a dinner-sherry, pale and curious, 
 tonic in character, round in the mouth, a 
 favorite with the Court of Spain at nineteen 
 and sixpence a dozen, bottles included — Vid* 
 Prospectus of the period. The profits of my- 
 self and partners were small; we were in 
 advance of the tEistes of the age, and in debt 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 8» 
 
 to the bottle-merchant. Bein<T at my wit's 
 end for want of money, a,t\d seeing what 
 audiences Mathews drew, the' idea occurred 
 to me of starting an imitation of the great 
 Imitator himself in the ?iliape of an "At Home," 
 given by a Avoman. The one trilling obstacle 
 in the way was the dilliculty of finding the 
 woman. From that time to this I have hith- 
 erto failed to ovei'come it. I have conquered 
 it at last ; I have found the woman now. ^liss 
 Vanstone possesses youth and beauty as well 
 as talent. Train her in tiie art of dramatic 
 disguise, provide her witii appropriate dresses 
 for ditfereut characters, develo]) her accom- 
 ])lishniciits in singing and plixying, give her 
 plenty of smart talk addressed to the audience, 
 advertise her as A Young Lady at Home, 
 astonish the public by a dramatic entertain- 
 ment which depends from first to last on that 
 young lady's own sole exertions, i-ommit the 
 entire management of the tiling to my care — 
 and what follows, as a necessary consequence? 
 Fame for my fair relative, and a fortune for 
 myself. 
 
 1 put these considcratioiis, as frankly as 
 usual, to Miss Vaustone, dfl'ering to write the 
 Entertainment, to manage all the business, 
 and to share the profits. I did not forget to 
 strengthen my case by intbrming her of the 
 jealousies siie would encounter and the obsta- 
 cles she would ineet if slie went on the stage. 
 And I wound up b_v a neat reference to the 
 private inquiries which she is interested in 
 m.dviug, and to the personal indi-pendence 
 Avhich she is desirous of securing beibre she 
 acts on her information. " Tf you go on tlie 
 stage," I said, '■ your services will be bought 
 by a manager, and lie may insist on his claims 
 just at the time when you want to gi't free 
 from him. If. on the contrary, you adopt my 
 views, you will be your own mistress and your 
 own manager, and you can settle your course 
 just as you like." Tiiis consideration ap- 
 peared to strike her. She took a day to con- 
 sider it, and when the day was over gave her 
 consent. 
 
 I hnd the wiiole transaction down in black 
 and white immediately. Our arrangement is 
 emhiently satistactory, except in one particu- 
 lar. She shows a morbid distrust of writing 
 her name at the bottom of any document 
 which I present to her, and roundly declares 
 she will sign nothing. As long as it is her in- 
 terest to ])rovide hei-sclf with pecuniary re- 
 sources for the future, she verbally engages to 
 go on. When it ceases to be her interest, she 
 plainly threatens to leave olf at a week's no- 
 tice. A difiicult girl to deal with; she has 
 found out her own a alue to me already. One 
 comfort is, I have the cooking of the accounts; 
 and my fair relative shall not till her pockets 
 too suddenly, if I can help it. 
 
 My exertions in training Miss Vaustone for 
 the coming experiment have been varied by 
 the writing of two anonymous letters in that 
 young lady's interests. Finding her too fidg- I 
 12 
 
 ety about arranging matters with her friends 
 to pay proper attention to my instructions, I 
 wrote anonymously to the lawyer who is con- 
 ducting the inrpiiry after her, recommending 
 him in a friendly way to give it up. The 
 letter was inelosed to a friend of mine in Lon- 
 don, with instructions to post it at Chariuo- 
 Cross. A week later I sent a second letter 
 through the same channel, requesting the 
 lawyer to inform me in writing whether he 
 and his clients had or had not decided on 
 taking my advice. I directed him, with jo- » 
 cose reference to the collision of interests be- 
 tween us, to atldress his letter: " Tit for Tat, 
 Post-odlce., West Strand." 
 
 In a few days the answer arrived — privately 
 forwarded, of course, to Post-olHce, Whitby, 
 by arrangement with my friend in London. 
 
 The lawyer's reply was short and surly : 
 "Sir — If my advice had been tblloAved, you 
 and your anonymous letter would both be 
 treated with the contempt which they deserve. 
 But the wishes of Miss Magdalen ^'anstone'8 
 eldest sister have claims on my consideration 
 which I cannot dispute; and at her entreaty 
 I inform you that. all further proceedings on 
 my part are withdrawn — ontbe express un- 
 derstanding that this concession is to open 
 facilities for written communication, at least, 
 between the two sisters. A letter from the 
 elder Miss Vanstone is inclosed in this. If I 
 dou't hear in a week's time that it has been 
 received I shall ])lace the matter once more 
 in the hands of the police. — Willia.m Pkx- 
 nuiL." A sour man this William Pendril. I 
 can only say of iiim, what au eminent noble- 
 man once said of his snllvv servant, " I wouldn't 
 have such a temper as that tcllow has got for 
 any earthly consideration that could be oflfered 
 me ! " 
 
 As a matter of course I looked into the let- 
 ter which the lawyer inclosed before deliver- 
 ing it. Miss Vanstone the elder described 
 herself as distracted at not hearing from her 
 sister; as suited with a governess's situation 
 in a private family ; as going into the situa- 
 tion in a week's time ; and ;us longing for a 
 letter to comfort her beibre she faced the trial 
 of undertaking her new duties. Alter closing 
 the envelope again, I accompanied the deliv- 
 ery of the letter to ^liss Vanstone the younger 
 by a word of caution. "Arc you more sure of 
 your own courage now," I said, " than you 
 were when I met you ? " She was ready 
 with her answer. " Captain Wragge, when 
 you met me on the Walls of York 1 had not 
 gone too far to go back, I have gone too tar 
 now." 
 
 " If she really feels this — and I think she 
 does — her corresponding with her sister can 
 do no harm. She wrote at great length the 
 same day, cried profusely over her own epis- 
 tolatory composition, and was remarkably ill- 
 tem[)ered and snapjush toward me when we 
 met in the evenings ,She wants experience, 
 poor girl — she sadly wants e^tperience of the 
 
30 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 world. How consoling to know that I am just 
 the man to give it her ! " 
 
 11. 
 
 [Chronicle for November.^ 
 We are established at Derby. The Enter- 
 tainment is written, and the rehearsals are in 
 stendy progress. All difficulties are provided 
 for but the one eternal dilhculty of money. 
 MissVaiistone's resources stretch easily enough 
 to the limits of our personal wants ; including 
 piano-forte hire for practice, and the purchase 
 and making of i lie necessary dresses. But the 
 expenses of starting the Entertainment are 
 iDeyond the reach of any means we possess. 
 A theatrical friend of mine here, whom I had 
 hoped to interest in our undertaking, proves 
 unhappily to be at a crisis in his career. The 
 field of human sympatliy. out of which I might 
 have raised the needful pecuniary crop, is 
 closed to me from want of time to cultivate it. 
 I see no other resource left — if we are to be 
 ready by Ciiristmas — than to try one of the 
 local music-sellers in this town, who is said to 
 be a speculating man. A private rehearsal 
 at these lodgings, and a bargain which will 
 till the pockets of a grasping stranger — such 
 are the sacrifices which dire necessity imposes 
 on me at starting. Well I there is only one 
 consolation. I'll cheat the music-seller. 
 
 III. 
 
 [Chronicle foy December. Firnt Fortnif/ht.^ 
 
 The music-seller extorts ni}' unwilling re- 
 spect. He is one of the very few human be- 
 ings I have met with in the course of my life 
 who is not to be cheated. He has taken a 
 masterly advantage of our helpk-ssness, and 
 has imposed terms on us for perfoi-mances at 
 Derby and Nottingham, with such a business- 
 like disregard of all interests but his own, 
 that — fond as I am of putting things down in 
 black and white — I really cannot prevail upon 
 myself to record the bargain. It is needless 
 to say I have yielded with my best grace, 
 sliaring with my fair relative the wretched 
 pecuniary prospects ofTered to us. Our turn 
 will come. In the meantime I cordially re- 
 gret not having known the local music-seller 
 in early life. 
 
 Personally speaking, I have no cause to 
 complain of Miss Vanstone. We have ar- 
 ranged that she shall regularly forward her 
 address (at the post-office) to her friends as 
 . we move about from place to place. Besides 
 communicating in this way with her sister, 
 she also reports herself to a certain Mr. 
 Clare, residing in Somersetshire, who is to 
 Ibrward all letters exchanged between herself 
 and his son. Careful inquiry has informed me 
 that this latter individual is now in China. 
 Having siispected from the first that there 
 was a gentleman in the back-ground, it is 
 highly satisfactory to know that he recedes 
 into the remote perspective of Asia. Long 
 may he remain there ! 
 
 The trifling responsibility of finding a name 
 for our talented Magdalen to perform under 
 has been cast on my shoulders. She feels no 
 interest whatever in this part of the subject.' 
 "Give me any name you like," she said; "I 
 have as much right to one as to another. Make 
 it yourself." I have readily consented to gratify 
 her wishes. The resources of my commercial 
 library include a list of useful names to as- 
 sume ; and we can choose one at five minutes 
 notice, when the admirable man of business 
 who now oppresses us is ready to issue his ad- 
 vertisements. On this point my mind is easy 
 enough; all my anxieties centre in the fair 
 performer. I have not the least doubt she 
 will do wonders if she is only left to herself on 
 the first night. But if the day's post is mis- 
 chievous enough to upset her by a letter from 
 her sister, I tremble lor the consequences. 
 
 IV. 
 
 [Chronicle for December. Second Fortiii(/ht.] 
 My gifted relative has made her first ap- 
 pearance in public, and has laid the foundation 
 of our future fortunes. 
 
 On the first night the attendance was larger 
 than I had ventured to hope. The novelty of 
 an evening's Entertainment, conducted from 
 beginning to end by the unaided exertions of 
 a young lady (see advertisement), roused the 
 public curiosity, and the seats Avere moderately 
 well filled. As good-luck would have it, no let- 
 ter addressed to Miss Vanstone came that day. 
 She was in full possession of herself until she 
 got the first dress on and heard the bell ring 
 ior the music. At that critical moment she 
 suddenly broke down. I found her alone in 
 the waiting-room, sobbing and talking like a 
 child. " Oh, poor papa ! poor papa ! Oh, 
 my God, if he saw me now !" My experience 
 in such matters at once informed me that it was 
 a case for sal-volatile, accompanied by sound 
 advice. We strung her up in no time to con- 
 cert pitch, set her eyes in a blaze, and made 
 her outblush her own rouge. The curtain 
 rose when we had got her at a red heat. She 
 dashed at it, exactly as s!ie dashed at it in the 
 back drawing-room at Rosemary Lane. Her 
 personal a])pearance settled the question of 
 her reception before she opened her lips. She 
 rushed full gallop through her changes of 
 character, her songs, and her dialogue ; making 
 mistakes by the dozen, and never stopping to 
 set them right; carrying the people along 
 with her in a perfect whirlwind, and never 
 waiting for the applause. The wliole thing 
 was over twenty minutes sooner than the time 
 we had calculated on. She carried it through 
 to the end, and fainted on the waiting-room 
 sofa a minute after the curtain was down. 
 The music-seller having taken leave of his 
 senses from sheer astonishment, and I having 
 no evening costume to appear in, we sent the 
 doctor to make the necessary apology to the 
 public, who were calling for her till the place 
 rang again. I prompted our medical orator 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 5*1 
 
 with a neat speech from behind the curtain, 
 and I never heard such applause from such a 
 comparatively small audience before in my 
 life. I felt' the tribute — I felt it deeply. 
 Fourteen years ago I scrajied together the 
 wretched means of existence, in this very 
 town, by reading the newspajier (with e.x])lan- 
 atory comments) to tlie company at 'a public 
 house. And now here I am at the top of the 
 tree. 
 
 It is needless to say that my first proceed- 
 ing was to bowl out the music-seller on the 
 snot. He called the ne.xt morning, no doubt 
 with a liberal proposal for extending the en- 
 gagement beyoml Derby and Nottingham. 
 My niece was described as not well enough to 
 see him; and when he asked for me he was 
 told I wa-s not up. I happened to be at that 
 moment engaged in putting the case patheti- 
 cally to our gifted Magdalen. Her answer 
 was in the highest degree satisfactory. She 
 Avould permanently engage herself to nobody 
 — least of all to a man who had taken soniid 
 advantage of her position and mine. She 
 would be her own mistress, and share the prof- 
 its with me, while she wanted money, and 
 while it suited her to go on. So far so good- 
 But the reason she added next for her flatter- 
 ing preference of myself was less to ray taste. 
 " The music-seller is not the man whom I em- 
 ploy to make my inquiries." she said. '' You 
 are the man." I don't like her steadily re- 
 membering those incjuiries in the first bewil- 
 derment of her success. It looks ill for the' 
 future; it looks infernally ill for the future. 
 
 V. 
 
 [Chrotiiclf /or January, 1817.] 
 
 She has shown the cloven foot already. I 
 begin to be a little afraid of her. 
 
 On the conclusion of the Nottingham en- 
 gagement (the results of which more than 
 equalled the results at Derby), I proposed 
 taking the Entertainment next — now we had 
 got it into our own hands — to Newark. Miss 
 Vanstone raised no objection until we came 
 to the question of time, when she amazed me 
 by stipulating for a week's delay before we 
 appeared in public again. 
 
 " For what ])ossibIe purpose ?" I asked. 
 
 " For the purpose of making the inquiries 
 which I mentioned to you at York," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 I in.stantly enlarged on the danger of delay, 
 putting all the considerations before her in 
 f.very imaginable form. She remained per- 
 fectly inunovablc. I tried to shake her on the 
 question of expenses. She answered by hand- 
 ing me over lier share of the proceeds at Derby 
 and Nottingham — and there were my expenses 
 paid at the rate of nearly two guineas a day. 
 J wonder who first picked out a mule as the 
 type of obstinacy ? How little knowledge 
 that man must have had of women ! 
 
 There was no help for it. I took down my 
 
 instructions in black and white, as usual. My 
 first exertions were to be directed to the dis- 
 covery of Mr. Michael Vanstone's address: I 
 was also expected to find out how long he was 
 likely to live there, and Avhether he had sold 
 Combe-Raven or not. My next inquiries were 
 to inform me of his ordinary habits of life ; of 
 what he did with his money ; of who his inti- 
 mate friends were ; and of the sort of terms 
 on which his son, Mr. Noel Vanstone, was now 
 living with him. Lastly, the investigations 
 were to end in discovering whether there was 
 any female relative, or any woman exercising 
 domestic authority in the house, who was 
 known to have an influence over either father 
 or soti. 
 
 If my long practice in cultivating the field 
 of human sympathy had not accustomed me 
 to private investigations into the affairs of 
 other people, I might have found some of these 
 queries rather difficult to deal with in tlie 
 course of a week. As it Avas, I gave myself 
 all the benefit of my own experience, and 
 brought the answers back to Nottingham in a 
 day less than the given time. Here they are 
 in regular order, for convenience of future 
 reference : 
 
 (1.) Mr. Michael Vanstone is now residing 
 at German Place, Brigiiton, and likely to re- 
 main there, as he finds the air suits hira. He 
 reached Loudon, from Switzerland, in Sep- 
 tember last, and sold the Combe-Ilaven prop- 
 i erty immediately on his arrival. 
 j (2.) His ordinary habits of life are secret 
 I and retired ; he seldom visits or receives com- 
 ! pany. Part of his money is supposed to be in 
 ! the funds, and part laid out in railway invest- 
 ments which have survived the panic of eight- 
 I een hundi-ed and tbrty-six, and are rapidly 
 j rising in value. Since his arrival in England, 
 I he has also speculated with great judgment in 
 j house property. He hcas some houses in re- 
 mote parts of London; and some houses in 
 certain watering-places on the East coast, 
 which are shown to be advancing in public 
 repute. In all these cases he is reported to 
 have made remarkably good bargains. 
 
 (3.) It is not ea.sy to discover who his inti- 
 mate friends are. Two names only have been 
 ascertained. The first is Admiral Bartraui ; 
 supposed to have been under friendly obliga- 
 tions, iifpast years, to Mr. ]\Iicliael Vanstone. 
 The second is Mr. George Bartram. nephew 
 of the Admiral, and now staying on a short 
 visit in the liouse at German Place. Mr. 
 George Bartram is the son of the late Mr. 
 Andrew Vanstone's sister, also ileceased. He 
 is therefore a cousin of Mr. Noel Vanstone'.s. 
 This last — viz : ]Mr. Noel Vanstone — is in deli- 
 cate health, and is living on excellent terms 
 with his father in German Place. 
 
 (4.) There is no female relative ii^ Mr. Mi- 
 chael Vanstone's family circle; but there is a 
 housekeeper, who has lived in his service ever 
 since his wife's death, and who has acquired a 
 strong influence over both father and son. 
 
92 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 She is a nj^tive of Switzerland, elderly, and a { second a reply was received. Her infernal 
 widow. Her name is Mrs. Lecount. | cleverness put an obstacle I had not expected 
 
 I in the way of my intercepting it. Later in the 
 On placing these particulars in Miss Van- day. aiter .-;he had lierself opened and read the 
 stone's hands she made no remark, except to i answer, I laid another trap for her. It just 
 
 thank me. I endeavored to invite her confi 
 dence. No results; nothing but a renewal of 
 
 succeeded, and no more. I had half a minute 
 to look into the envelope in her absence. It 
 
 civility, and a sudden shifting to the subject of contained nothing but her OAvn letter returned. 
 the Entertainment. A' cry good. If she won't ; She is not the girl to put up quietly with such 
 give me the inlbrmation I want, the conclusion ' an insult as this. ]\Iiscliief will come of it. 
 is obvious — I must help myself. , ]\Iiscliief to iVIichael Vanstone — which is of no 
 
 Business considerations claim the remainder earthly consequence ; mischief to me — which 
 of this page. Let me return to business. i is a trulv serious matter. 
 
 Financial Statkmext. Tiiiri) Wekk i.^ Jam arv. 
 
 Place A^iiited. 
 Newiirk. 
 
 Performiinceij. . 
 
 T)Vo. '■ • ' 
 
 Net Itc'ceipts. ' Net Kecciptg. 
 In black and white. ! Actually rcalizccj. 
 
 Apparent Division 
 
 of Profits. 
 
 Miss V £f^ 10 
 
 .ictiKiI UivisiuU 
 , • of Profitii. 
 Miss V £r2ln 
 
 Self.; £12 10 
 
 Si'lf .£20 fio 
 
 Private Surplus on the ^Veek. 
 
 Or 6ay. 
 
 Selfpresented Testimonial. 
 
 £7 Ifls. 
 
 Audited, 
 
 H. Wbagge. 
 
 Passed correct. 
 
 11. WaAGO)!. 
 
 vn. 
 
 [ Chroii I'clc for Ma vcJi.'] 
 Alter performing at Sheffield and IManches- 
 t ter. we have moved to Liverpool, Preston, and 
 Lan<-aster. Another change in tins weather- 
 cock of a girl ! She has Avritten no mOre let- 
 ters to ^lichael Vanstone, .ind she has become 
 as anxious to make money as I am myself. 
 AN'e are realizing large profits, and we are 
 worked to death. I don't like this change in 
 her : she has a purpose to answer, or she would 
 not i^how such extraordinary eagerness to fill 
 her purse. Nothing I can do — no cooking of 
 ' The next .strong-hold of British sympathy 1 S'.ccounls. no self- presented testimonials — can 
 which we take by storm is Shefiie'ld. We '^^^'''P ^'i^* pui-se empty. " The success of the 
 open the first week in Februarv. ' Enfertainment, and her own sharpness in 
 
 looking after hor interests, literally force me 
 
 VI. into a course of comparative honesty. She 
 
 [Chronicle for February.] P"''^ '"t" her pocket more than a third of the 
 
 .^ . ". ' profits, in defiance of mv most arduous exer- 
 
 Practice has now given my tan- relative the ii„ns to prevent her. And this at mv age ! 
 
 confidence which I predicted would come with [ this alter mv Ion- and successful career" as 
 
 time. Her knack of disguising her own iden- i a moral acriculnirlst ! Marks of admiration 
 
 tityin the impersonation of diiferent charac- are very little thin-s: l,ut they express my 
 
 ters so completely staggers her audiences that I feelings, and I puc tiiem in freelv. 
 
 the same people come twice over to find out i • ' 
 
 VIII. 
 
 [Clironicle/or Ajiril and Maij.] 
 We have visited seven more large towns, 
 
 how she does it. It is the amiable defect of 
 the English public never to know when thev 
 have had enough of a good thing. They act- 
 ually try to encore one of her characters — 
 
 an old norSi-countrv lady — modelled on that ! and are now at Birmingham. Consulting my 
 honored preceptress in the late Mr. Vanstone's : Books, I find that Miss'Vanstone has reaTized 
 family to Avhom I presented myself at Combe- ! by the Entertainment up to this time the enor- 
 Ilaven. This particular performance fairly I mous sum of nearly four hundred pounds. It 
 amazes the people. I don't wonder at it. \ is (jiiite possible that my own profits may 
 Such an extraonlinary assumption of age ly reach one or two miserable hundreds more, 
 a girl of nineteen has never been seen in pul)- liut I am the architect of her fortunes — the 
 
 lie before, in the whole course of my theatrical 
 experience. 
 
 I find myself writing in a lower tone than 
 usual ; I miss my own dash of humor. The 
 fact is, I am depressed about the future. In 
 
 publisher, so to speak, of her book — and, 
 if anything, I am underpaid. 
 
 I made tlm above discovery on the twenty- 
 ninth of tlie month — anniversary of the Res- 
 toration of my royal predece.-isor in the field of 
 
 the very height of our prosperity, my perverse i human sympathvvCiiarles the Second. I had 
 pupil sticks 1o her trumpery fainily quarrel. ' barely finished 'locking up my dispatch-box 
 I feel myself at the mercy of the first whim in | when the ungrateful girl whose reputation I 
 the Vanstone direction which may come into j have made came into'^the room and told me 
 her head — I, the architect of her fortunes, i in so many words that the business-connection 
 
 Too bad ; upon my soul, too bad ! 
 
 She has acted already on the inquiries which 
 she (breed me to make tor her. Slie has writ- 
 ten two letters to Mr. Michael Vanstone. 
 
 To the first letter no answer came. To the 
 
 between us was for the present at an end. 
 
 I' attempt no description of my own sen- 
 sations: I merely recor.l facts. She informed 
 me, with an a])pearance of perfect composure, 
 that she needed rest, and that she had " new 
 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 objects in view." She might po*ibly -want 
 me to assist those objects ; and slie iniglit ])os- 
 sibly return to the Entertainment. In either 
 case it wonlil be enoiigli it' we exehangcd 
 addresses, at which we could write to each 
 other in case of need. Having no desire to 
 leave me too abrnjitly, she would remain the 
 next day (Avhich was Sunday), and would 
 take her departure on Monday morning. Such 
 was her explanation in so many words. 
 
 Remonstrance, as I knew by experience, 
 would be thrown away. Auihority I had 
 none to exert. My own sensible cour.se to 
 take in this emergency was to find out which 
 wav my own interests pointed, and to go that 
 Avav without a moment's unnecessary liesi- 
 tation. 
 
 A very little reflection has since convinced 
 me that she has a dee])-laid scheme against 
 Micliael Vanstone in view. She is young, 
 handsome, clever, and unscrupulous; she has j 
 made money to live on, and has time at her | 
 disposal to find out tlie weak side of an old j 
 man; and she is going to attack Mr. Michael 
 Vanstone unawares with the legitimate weap- 
 ons of hersex. Is she likely to want me for 
 such a purjiose as this? Doui'tful. Is she 
 merely anxious to get rid of me on easy terms ? 
 Probable. Am I the sort of man to be treated 
 in this way by my own pupil? Decidedly 
 not: I am the man to see my way through 
 a neat succession of alternatives ; and hero 
 they are : 
 
 First alternative. To announce my compli- 
 ance with her proposal ; to exchange addresses 
 with her; and then to keep my eye privately 
 on all her future movements. Second alter- 
 native. To express fond anxiety in a paternal 
 capacity, and to threaten giving the alarm to 
 her sister and the lawyer if she persists in her 
 design. Third alternative. To turn the in- 
 formatiort I already possess to the best ac- 
 count, by making it a marketable commodity 
 between Mr. Michael Vanstone and myself. 
 At present I incline toward the last of these 
 three courses. But my decision is far too im- 
 portant to be hurried. To-day is only the 
 twenty-ninth. 1 will suspend my Chronicle of 
 Events until Monday. 
 
 Mu>/ 31. — ^ly alternatives and her plans 
 are both overtlirown together. 
 
 The newspaper came in, as usual, after 
 breakfast. I looked it over, and discovered 
 this memorable elit.ry among the obituary 
 announcements of the d;iy: 
 
 " On the 2Ptli inst., at Rrijjhton, Michael j 
 Vanstone, E.s(]., formerly of Zurich, aged 77." i 
 
 IMiss Vanstone was present in the room j 
 when I read those two startling lines. Her i 
 bonnet was on ; her boxes Were packed ; she ( 
 was waiting im])atiently until it was time tii 
 go to the train. I handed the jtnper to her 
 witliout a word on my side. Without a word 
 on hers, she looked where I ])ointcd, and read | 
 the news of Michael Vanstone's deaih. 
 
 The paper dropped out of hor hand, and 
 she suddenly pulled down her veil. I caught 
 one glance at her face before she hid it from 
 me. Tlie effect on my mind Avas startling in 
 the extreme. To put it with my customary 
 dash of humor — her face informed me that 
 the most sensible action which Miehael Van- 
 stone, Esq., tbrmerly of Zuritdi, had ever 
 achieved in his life was the action he per- 
 formed at Brighton on the 2!)th instant. 
 
 Finding the dead silence in the room singu- 
 larly mipleasant under existing circumstances, 
 I thought 1 would make a remark. My re- 
 gaid lor my own interests supplie<l me with a 
 subject. 1 mentioned the Entertainment. 
 
 "After what has happened," I said, '* I 
 presume we go on with our i)erformanccs as 
 usual ?" 
 
 '• No," she answered, behind the veil. " Wc 
 go on with my inquiries." 
 
 " In(juiries after a di'ad man ?" 
 
 " Inquiries after the dead man's son." 
 
 " ]\Ir. Noel Vanstone ?" 
 
 " Yes ; Mr. Noel Vanstone." 
 
 Not having a veil to let down over my own 
 face, I stooj)ed and picked up the newspaper. 
 Her devilisli determination quite upset me for 
 the moment. I actually had to steady myself 
 before I could speak to her again. 
 
 " Are the new inquiries as harmless as the 
 old ones ?" I asked. 
 
 '* Quite as harmless." 
 
 '• AVhat am I expected to find out?" 
 
 " I wisli to know whether Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone remains at Brighton after the funeral." 
 
 " And if not ?" 
 
 "If not, I shall want to know his new ad- 
 dress, wherever it may be." 
 
 " Yes. And what next ?" 
 
 "I wish you to find out next if all the fa- 
 ther's money goes to the son." 
 
 I began to see her drift. The word money 
 relieved me : I felt quite on my own ground 
 again. 
 
 " Anything ipore ?" I asked. 
 
 " Only one thing more," she answered. 
 " Make sure, if you j)lease. whether Mrs. Le- 
 count, the housekeeper, remains or not in Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone's service." 
 
 Her voice altered a little as she mentioned 
 Mrs. Lecount's name: she is evidently sharp 
 enough to distrust the housekeeper already. 
 
 " My exj)enses are to be paid as usual ?" I 
 said. 
 
 " As usual." 
 
 " When am I expected to leave for Brigh- 
 ton ?" 
 
 " A^ soon as \<iu can." 
 
 She rose and l«ft the room. After a mo- 
 mentary doubt I decided on executing the. new 
 eonnnission. The more private inquiries I 
 eondnet for my fair relative the harder she 
 will find it to get rid of hers truly, Horatio 
 Wragae. 
 
 There is nothing to prevent my starting for 
 Brighton to-morrow. So to-morrow I go. If 
 
94 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 ]\tr. Noel Vanstone succeeds to his fatherV ', 
 property, be is the only human beinjj possessed , 
 of pecuniary blessings who fails to inspire me | 
 with a feeling of unmitigated envy. i 
 
 IX. I 
 
 [Chrotiicle/ur Jiiue.] \ 
 
 S//i. — I returned yesterday with my iiifor- ' 
 mation. H(?re it is, privately noted down lor . 
 convenience of future reference : | 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone loft Brighton vesti-rdaA-, i 
 and removed, for the purpose of tran.^ai'tinjf 
 business in London, to om* of his hire fatlier's 
 empty houses in Vauxhall Walk, Lambeth, i 
 This singularly mean selection of a place of 
 residence on the part of a gentleman of for- 
 tune looks as if Mr. N. V. and his money were 
 not easily parted. 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone has stepped into his fa- 
 ther's shoes under the following circumstances : 
 Mr. Michael Vanstone appears to have died, 
 curiously enough, as Mr. Andrew Vanstone 
 died — intestate. With this difference, how- 
 ever, in the two ca-<es, that the younger brother 
 left an informal will, and the elder l)rotlier left 
 no M-ill at all. The hardest men have their 
 weaknesses; and Mr. Michael Vanstone's 
 weakness .seems to have been an insurmount- 
 able horror of contemplating the event of his 
 own death. His son, his housekeeper, and his 
 lawyer had all three tried, over and over again, 
 to get him to make a will, and had never 
 shaken his obstinate resolution to ])ut off pei-- 
 Ibrming the only business-duty he was ever 
 known to neglects Two doctor.* attended him 
 in his last illness; warned him that he was too 
 old a man to liope to get over it; and warned 
 him in vain. He announced liis own positive 
 determination not to die. His last words in 
 this world (as I succeeded in discovering from 
 the nurse, who assisted Mrs. Lecount) were : 
 *'I'm getting better every minute ; send for 
 the fly directly and take me out for a drive." 
 The same night Death ]iroved to be the more 
 obstinate of the two, and left h^s son (and only 
 child) to take the property in due course o," 
 law. Nobody doubts that the result would 
 have been the same if a will liad been made. 
 The father and son had every confidence in 
 each other, and were known to have always 
 lived together on the most friendly terms. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount remains with Mr. Noel Van- 
 •stone, in the same housekeeping capacity which 
 she filled witli his father, and has accompaiue(l 
 him to the new residence in Vau.xhall Walk. 
 She is acknowledged on all hands to have been 
 a sufferer In' the turn events have taken. If 
 Mr. i\Iichaei Vanstone had made his will, there 
 is no doubt she would have received a hand- 
 some legacy. She is now left dependent on 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's sense of gratitude ; and 
 she is not at all likely, I should imagine, to let 
 that .sense fall a.sleep for want of a little timely 
 jogging. Whether my fair relative's future 
 intentions in this quarter point toward Mischief 
 or IMoney Is more than 1 can yet say. In 
 
 either easol venture a prediction that she will 
 find an awkward obstacle in Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 So much for my information to the present 
 date. The manner in which it was received 
 by Mi.ss Vanstone showed the most ungrateful 
 distrust of me. She confided nothing to my 
 private ear but the expression of her best 
 thanks. A sharp girl — a devilish sharp girl. 
 But there is such a thing as bowling a man 
 out once too often, especially when the name 
 of that man happens to be Wragge. 
 
 Not a word more about the Entertainment; 
 not a word more about moving from our pres- 
 ent quarters. Very good. My right hand 
 lays my left hand a wager. Ten to one on her 
 opening communications with the son as she 
 opened them with the father. Ten to one on 
 her writing to Noel Vanstone before the month 
 is out. 
 
 23rf. — She has written by to-day's post. A 
 long letter apparently, for she put two stamps 
 on the envelope. (Private memorandum, ad- 
 dressed to myself. Wait for the answer.) 
 
 22*^/, 23ri, iith. — Private memorandum con- 
 tinued. Wait for the answer. 
 
 25tk. — The answer has come. As an ex- 
 military man I have naturally employed strat- 
 agem to get at it. The success which rewards 
 all genuine perseverance has rewarded me, 
 and I have got at it accordingly. 
 
 The letter is written, not by Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone, but by Mrs. Lei'ount. She takes the 
 highest moral ground, in a tone of spiteful 
 jioliteness. Mr. Noel Vanstone's delicate 
 health and recent bereavement prevent him 
 from writing himself. Any more letters from 
 ^liss Vanstone will be returned unopened. 
 Any personal application will produce an im- 
 mediate appeal to the protection of the law. 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone, having been expressly 
 cautioned against a\Iiss Magdalen Vanstone by 
 his late lamented father, has not yet forgotten 
 his father's advice. Considers it a reflection 
 cast on the Jionored memory of the best of 
 men to suppose that his course of action to- 
 ward the Miss Vanstones can be other than the 
 course of action which his father pursued. 
 This Is what he has himself instructed Mrs. 
 Lecount to say. She has endeavored to ex- 
 press herself in the most conciliatory language 
 she could select; she has tried to avoid giving 
 unnecessary pain, by addressing Miss Van- 
 stone (as a matter of courtesy) by the family 
 name ; and she trusts these concessions, which 
 speak for themselves, will not be thrown 
 away. [Such is the substance of the letter — 
 and so It ends.] 
 
 I draw two conclusions from this little docu- 
 ment. First, that it will lead to serious 
 mischief. Secondly, that Mrs. Lecount, with 
 all her politeness, is a dangerous woman to 
 deal with. I wish I saw ray way safe before 
 me. I don't see it yet. 
 
 2!)///. — Miss Vanstone has abandoned ray 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 95 
 
 protection, and the whole lucrative future of 
 the dramatic Entertainment has abandoned 
 me with her. I am swindled — I, the last man 
 under Heaven who could possibly have ex- 
 pected to write in those disgraceful terms of 
 himself — I am smindlkd ! 
 
 Lut me chronicle the events. They e.xhibit 
 me, for the time being, in a sadly helpless 
 point of view. But the nature of the man 
 ])re vails; I must have the events down in 
 black and wliite. 
 
 The announcement of her approaching de- 
 parture was int'mated to me yesterday. After 
 another civil speech about the information I 
 had procured at Brighton, she hinted that there 
 was a necessity for pushing our inquiries a 
 little further. I immediately «fre.n'd to under- 
 take them, as before. " No," she said; " they 
 are not in your way this time. They are in- 
 quiries relating to a woman, and I mean to 
 make them myself!" Feeling privately con- 
 vinced that this new resolution pointed straight 
 at Mrs. Lecount, I tried a few innocent ques- 
 tions on the subject. She quietly declined to 
 answer them. I asked next when she pro- 
 posed to leave. She would leave on the 
 twenty-eighth. For what destination ? Lon- 
 don. For long '? Pi-obably not. By herself? 
 No. With me? No. VVltIt whom then? 
 AVith Mrs. Wragge, if I had no objection, 
 (iood Heavens! for what possible purpose? 
 For tiie purpose of getting a respectable 
 lodging, which she could hardly expect to 
 accomplish unless slie was accompanied by an 
 elderly female friend. And was I, in the 
 capacity of elderly male friend, to be left out 
 of tlie business altogether ? Impo-ssible to 
 say at present. Was I not even to forward 
 any Iwtters which might come lor her at our j 
 present address ? No ; she would make the I 
 arrangement her.self at the post-office ; and she 
 wouhi ask me at the same time for an address, ! 
 at which I could receive a letter from lier. in i 
 case of necessity for futurp communication. ! 
 Furtlicr inquiries, after this last answer, could i 
 had to nothing but waste of time. I saved ' 
 time by putting no more (piestions. I 
 
 Is was clear to me that our present position ! 
 toward each other was what our position had | 
 been previously to the event of iMichael Van- 
 stone's death. I returned, as before, to my [ 
 choice of alternatives. Which way did my 
 private interests point? Toward trusting the 
 chance of her wajiting me again ? Toward 
 threatening her with the interference of her 
 relatives and friends? Or toward making 
 the inlormation which I possessed a market- 
 able connnodify between the wealthy branch 
 of the family and myself? The last of the 
 three was the alternative I had chosen in the 
 case of the lather. 1 chose it once more in 
 the case of the son. 
 
 The train .itarted for London nearly four 
 Iionrs since, and took her awny in it, accom- 
 jianicd by Mrs. Wragge. My wife is far too 
 great a fool, poor soul, to be actively valuable 
 
 in the present emergency; but she will be 
 passively usclul in keeping up Miss Vanstone's 
 connection with me — and, in consideration of 
 that circumstance, I consent to brush my own 
 trowsers, shave my own I'hin, and submit to 
 the other inconveniencies of waiting on myself 
 for a limited period. Any faint glimmerings 
 of sense whi«h Mrs. Wragge may have for- 
 merly possessed appear to have now finally 
 taken their leave of her. On receiving per- 
 mission to go to London, she favored us 
 immediately with two inquiries: Miglit she 
 do some sho[)])ing ? and might she leave the 
 cookery-book behind her ? Miss Vanstone 
 said Yes to one question, and I said Yes to the 
 other ; and from that moment Mrs. Wragge 
 has existed in a state of perpetual laughter. 
 1 am still hoarse with vainly-repeated applica- 
 tions of vocal stimulant; and I left her in the 
 railway carriage, to my inexpressible disgust, 
 with hoth .shoes down at heel. Under ordinary 
 circumstances these absurd particulars would 
 not have dwelt on my memory. But, as mat- 
 ters actually stand, my unfortunate wife's im- 
 becility may, in her present position, lead to 
 consequences which we none of us foresee. 
 She is nothing more or less than a grown-up 
 child ; and I can plainly detect that Miss 
 Vanstone trusts her as she would not have 
 trusted a sharper woman on that very ac- 
 count. I know children, little and big, rather 
 better than my fair relative does; and I say 
 — beware of all forms of human innocence 
 when it happens to be your interest to keep 
 a secret to yourself. 
 
 Let me return to business. Here I am, at 
 two o'clock on a fine suunner's afternoon, left 
 entirely alone, to consider the safest means of 
 approaching Mr. Noel Vanstone on my own 
 account. i\Iy private suspicions of his miserly 
 character procluce no discouraging effect on 
 me. I have extracted cheering pecuniary re- 
 sults in my tiine trom people quite as fond of 
 their money as he can be. The real difficulty 
 to contejid with is the obstacle of Mrs. Le- 
 count. If I am not mistaken, this lady merits 
 a little serious consideration on iny jiart. I 
 will close my chronicle for to-day, and give 
 Mrs. Lecount her due. 
 
 Three o' clock. — I open the.se pages again, to 
 record a discovery which has taken me entirely 
 by surprise. 
 
 After completing the last entry, a <inHm- 
 stance revived in my memory which I liad no- 
 ticed on escorting tliP ladies this morning to 
 the laiiwav. 1 then remarked that this Miss 
 Vanstone had om1\ taken one of her three 
 boxes with Iht. ;iiid it now occurred to me 
 that a private investigation of the luggage she 
 had left behind might prmsibly be attended with 
 beneficial results. Havinp; at certain periods 
 of my life heon in the habit of cultivating 
 friendly terms with strange Icnks, I lound no 
 'liffi* ulty in estalili^hing myself on a familiar 
 footing with Miw Van^tone'8 boxej*. One of 
 
9< 
 
 XO ^'AME. 
 
 the two presented notliihg to interest me. 
 The other — devoted to the preservation of the 
 costumes, articles ot toilet, and otlier proper- 
 ties used in the dramatic Entertainment — 
 proved to be better worth examining, lor it 
 led me stiaight to the discovery oi" one of its 
 owner's secrets. 
 
 1 tbund all the dresses in the.bo.x complete 
 — with one remarkable exception. Th.u ex- 
 ception was the dress of tiie old North-coun- 
 try lady ; the cliaracter whicii I ha\ e already 
 mentioned as the best of all my pupil's dis- 
 guises, and as modelled in voice and manner 
 ou her old governess, Mi>s Garth. The wig ; 
 the eyebrows; the bonnet and veil; the cloak, 
 padded inside to disfigure her back and shoul- 
 ders; the paints and cosmetics used to a^^e her 
 face and alter her complexion — were all gone. 
 Xothin<i but the gown remained — a gaudily 
 tiowered silk, useful enough lor ilramatic pur- 
 poses, but too extravagant in color and pattern 
 to bear insi)ection by daylight. The other 
 parts of the dress are sufliciently, quiet to pass 
 muster; the bonnet and veil are only old- 
 fasliioiied, and the cloak is oi' a sober gray 
 color. But one plain inference can be drawn 
 from such a discovery as this. As certainly as 
 I sit here, she is going to open the campaign 
 a"^ainst Noel Vanstone and Airs. Lecount in a 
 character which neither of those two persons 
 can have any possible reason for suspecting at 
 the outset — the character of Miss Garth. 
 
 What course am I to take under these cir- 
 cumstances '? Having got her secret, what am 
 1 to do with it ? These are awkward consid- 
 erations; I am rather puzzled how to deal 
 with them. 
 
 It is something more than the mere fact 
 of her choosing to disguise herself to forward 
 her own private ends that causes my present 
 perplexity. Hundreds of girls take fancies lor 
 disiruising themselves ; and hundreds of in 
 stances of it are related, year after year, in 
 the public journals. But my ex-pupil is not 
 to be confounded, for one moment, with the 
 averai^e adventuress of the newspapers. She 
 is capable of going a long way beyond the 
 limit of dressing herself like a man, and imi- 
 tatiu"- a man's voice and manner. She has a 
 natural uift for assuming characters, which I 
 have nevjr seen equalled by a woman ; and 
 she has performed in public until she has felt 
 her own power, and trained her talent for 
 disiTuisini; herself to the highest pitch. A girl 
 who takes the sharpest people unawares by 
 nsing such a capacity as this to help hi'r own 
 objects in private life, and who sharpens that 
 capacity by a determination to fight her way 
 to her own purpose, Avhich has beaten down 
 everything betbre it, up to this time, is a girl 
 who tries an experiment in deception, new 
 enough and dangerous enough to lead, one 
 way or the other, to very serious results. 
 This is my conviction, founded on a large 
 experience in the art of imposing on my 
 fellow-creatures. I say of my fair relative's 
 
 enterprise what I never said or thought of it 
 till I introduced myself to the inside of her 
 box. The chances for and against her win- 
 niuir the fight for her lost fortune are now 
 so evenly balanced that I can not for the 
 life of me see on which i<ide the scale inclines. 
 All I can discern is, that it will, to a dead cer- 
 tainty, turn one way or the other on the day 
 when she passes Noel Vaustone's doors in dis- 
 gihs6^., . ' 
 
 [Wliich way do my interests point now'? 
 Upon my honor, I don't know.] 
 
 Five o'clock. — I have effected a masterly 
 compromise ; I have decided on turning my- 
 self into a Jackion-both-sides. 
 
 By to-day's post I have dispatched to Lon- 
 don an anonymous letter for Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone. It will be forwarded to its destination 
 by the same means which I successfully adopted 
 to mvstify Mr. Pendril ; and it will reach 
 Vauxhall Walk, Lambeth, by the afternoon 
 ot' to-morrow at the latest. 
 
 The letter is short, and to the purpose. It 
 warns Air. Noel Vanstone in the most alarm- 
 ing language tliat he is destined to become 
 the victim of a conspiracy, and that the prime 
 mover of it is a young lady who has already 
 held written communication with his father 
 and himself. It offers him the intbnnation 
 necessary to secure his own safety, on condi- 
 tion that he makes it worth the writer's while 
 to run the serious personal I'isk which such a 
 disclosure will entail on him ; and it ends by 
 stipulating that the answer shall be advertised 
 in the Times, shall be addressed to " An Un- 
 known Friend,' and shall state plainly what 
 remuneration Mr. Noel Vanstone oii'ers for 
 the priceless service which it is proposed to 
 render him. 
 
 Unless some unexpected complication oc- 
 curs, this letter places me exactly in the posi- 
 tion which it is my present interest to occupy. 
 If the advertisement appears, and if the re- 
 muneration offered is large enough to justify 
 me in going over to the camp of the enemy, 
 over I go. If no advertisement appears, or if 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone rates my invaluable as- 
 sistance at too low a figure, here I remain, 
 biding my time till my fair relative Avants 
 me, or till I make her want me, which comes 
 to the same thing. If the anonymous letter 
 lalls by any accident into her hands, she will 
 find disparaging allusions in it to myself, pur- 
 posely introduced to suggest that the writer 
 must be one of the persons whom I addressed 
 while conducting her inquiries. If Mrs. Le- 
 count takes the business in hand, and lays a 
 trap for me — I decline her tempting invita- 
 tion, by becoming totally ignorant of the whole 
 affair the instant any second person appears 
 in it. Let the end come as it may, here I am 
 ready to profit by it ; here I am, facing both 
 ways with perfect ease and security — -a moral 
 agriculturist, with his eye ou two crops at 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 »T 
 
 )nce, and his swindler's sickle ready for any ' will be more interesting^ to me than ever. I 
 jmcrgency. I wonder which side I shall eventually belong 
 
 For the next week to come the newspaper I to? 
 
 THE THIRD SCENE-VAUXHALL WALK, LAMBETH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Tiie old Arcliicpiscopal Palace of Lambeth, 
 on the soutiiern bank of the Thames — with 
 its P.ishop's Walk and (Jarden, and its terrace 
 Ironting the river — is an architectural relic 
 of the London of former times, precious to all 
 lovers of the picturesque, in the utilitarian 
 London of tlie present day. Southward of 
 this venerable structure lies the street laby- 
 rinth of Lambeth; and nearly midway in that 
 part of the maze of bouses which i.s placed 
 nearest to the river runs the dingy double 
 row of buildings now, as in former days, known 
 by the name of Vauxhall Walk. 
 
 The net-work of dismal streets stretching 
 over the surrounding neighborhood contains 
 a population for the most part of the poorer 
 order. In the thoroughfares where shops 
 iibound the sordid struggle with poverty shows 
 itself unreservedly on the fdthy pavement, 
 Blathers its forces through the week, and, 
 Jtrengthening to a tumult on Saturday night, 
 sees the Sunday morning dawn in murky gas- 
 light. Miserable women, whose faces never 
 smile, haunt the butchers' sho])s in such Lon- 
 lon localties as these with relics of the men's 
 wages saved from the public-house clutched 
 fast in their hands, with vyes that devour the 
 meat they dare not buy, with eager fingers 
 that touch it covetously, as the fingers of 
 their richer sisters touch a precious stone. In 
 this district, as in other districts remote from 
 the wealthy (juarters of the metropolis, the 
 hidi'ous London vagabond — with the filth of the 
 street oulmatched in his speech, with the mud 
 of the street outdirtied in his clothes — lounges, 
 lowering and brutal, at the street corner 
 and the gin-shop door: the public disgrace of 
 his country, the unheeded warning of social 
 troubles that are yet to come. Here the loud 
 sell-assertion of Modern Progress — which has 
 reformed so much in manners, and altered so 
 little in men — meets the fiat contradiction 
 that scatters its pretensions to the winds. 
 Here, while the national fjrospcrity feasts, 
 like another Belshazzar. on the spectacle of 
 its own magnificence, is the Writmg on the 
 Wall, which warns the monarch. Money, that 
 his glory is wciglnd in the balance, and his 
 power found wanting. 
 
 Siluati'd in such a neighborhood as tiiis, 
 Vauxhall Walk gains by comparison, and es- 
 tablishes claim to respectability which no im- 
 f>artial observation can fail to recognize. A 
 argc proportion of the Walk is still composed 
 IS 
 
 of private houses. In the scattered situationi 
 where shops appear, those shops are not be- 
 sieged by the crowds of more populous thor- 
 oughfares. Commerce, is not turbulent, nor 
 is the public consumer besieged by loud invi- 
 tations to " buy." Bird-fanciers have sought 
 the congenial tranquillity of the scene ; and 
 pigeons coo, and canaries twitter, in Vauxhall 
 Walk. Second-hand carts and cabs, bed- 
 steads of a certain age, detached carriage- 
 wheels for those who may want one to make 
 up a set, are all to be found here in the same 
 re})ository. One tributary stream in the great 
 ilood of gas which illuminates London tracks 
 its ])arent source to Works established in this 
 locality. Here the followers of John Wesley 
 have set up a temple, built before the period 
 of Methodist conversion to the principles of 
 architectural religion. And here— most strik- 
 ing object of all — on the site where thousandi 
 of lights once sparkled ; where sweet sounds 
 of music made night tuneful till morning 
 dawned ; where the beauty and fashion of 
 London feasted and danced through the sum- 
 mer seasons of a century — spreads, at this day, 
 an awful wilderness of mud and rubbish ; the 
 deserted dead body of Vauxhall Gardens 
 mouldering in the open air. 
 
 On the same day when (Japtain Wragge 
 completed the last entry in his Chronicle of 
 Events, a woman appeared at the window of 
 one of the houses in Vauxhall Walk, and re- 
 moved from the glass a printed paper which 
 had been wafered to it, announcing that 
 Apartments were to be let. Tiie apartments 
 consisted of two rooms on the first floor. 
 Tiiey had just been taken for a week certain, 
 by two ladies who had paid in advance — 
 those two ladies being Magdalen and Mrs. 
 Wragge. 
 
 As soon as the mistress of the bouse had 
 left the room, Magdalen walked to the win- 
 dow and cautiously looked out from it at the 
 row of buildings opposite. They were of su- 
 perior pretensions in size and appearance to 
 the other bouses in the Walk ; the date at 
 which they had been erected was inscribed 
 on one of them, and was stated to be the year 
 1759. They stood back from the pavement, 
 separated from it by little strips of garden- 
 ground. This peculiarity of position, added 
 to the breadth of the roadway interposing be- 
 tween them and the smaller houses opposite, 
 made it impossible for Magdalen to see the 
 numbers on the doors, or to observe more o( 
 
PS 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 any one who miglit romc to tlu' w indows than 
 the bare jrcneral outline of dress and fi(;nre. 
 Nevertheless there she stooil, anxious])- fixing 
 her eyes on one house In the row, nearly op- 
 posite to her — the house she had looked for 
 before entering the lodgings : the house in- 
 habited at that moment by Noel Vanstone 
 and Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 After keeping watch at the window, in si- 
 lence, for ten minutes or more, she suddenly 
 looked back into the room, to observe the 
 effect which her behavior might have pro- 
 duced on her travidling comp:inion. 
 
 Not the slightest cause apj)i'ar(>d for any 
 apprehension in th:it (piarter. Mrs. Wragge 
 was seated at the table, ab'oi'bed in the ar- 
 ranjienient of a series of smart circulars and 
 tempting price - lists, isstied by advertising 
 tradespeople, and flung in at the cab-windows 
 as they left the Loudon terminus. " I "vc 
 often heard tell of light reading." said Mrs. 
 Wragge, restlessly shifting the positions of the 
 circulars, as a child restlessly shifVs the posi- 
 tions of a new set of toys. " Here 's light 
 reading printed in pretty colors. Here's all 
 the Tilings I 'm going to buy when I 'm out 
 shopping to-morrow. Lend us a pencil, plea c 
 — you won't be angry, will you? — I do so 
 want to mark 'em oif." She looked up at 
 Magdalen, chuckled joyfully over her own 
 altered circumstan(;es, and beat lier gre,<t 
 hands on the table in irrepressible deliglit. 
 "No cookery-book!" cried Mrs. Wragge. 
 " No Buzzing in my head ! no captain to 
 shave to-morrow! I'm all down at heel; my 
 cap 's on one side; and nobody bawls at me. 
 My heart alive, here is a holiday and no mis- 
 take !" Her hands began to drum again on 
 the table louder tlian ever, until Magdalen 
 (juieted them by presenting her with a pencil. 
 Mrs. Wragge instantly recovered her dignity, 
 squared her elbows on the table, and plunged 
 into imaginary shopping for the rest of the 
 evening. 
 
 Magdalen returned to the window. Slie 
 took a chair, seated herself behind the cur- 
 tain, and steadily fixed her eyes once more on 
 the house opposite. 
 
 The blinds were down over the windows of 
 the first floor and the second. The window 
 of the room on the ground-floor was uncovered 
 and partly open, but no living creature came 
 near it. Doors opened, and people came and 
 went, in the houses on either side ; children 
 by the dozen poured out on the pavement to 
 play, and invaded the little strifis of garden- 
 ground to recover lost balls and shuttlecocks; 
 streams of people passed backward and for- 
 ward perpetually ; heavy wagons, piled high 
 with goods, lumbered along the road, on their 
 way to, or their way from, the railway station 
 near; all the daily life of the district stirred 
 with its ceaseless activity in every direction 
 but one. The hours passed — and there was 
 the house opposite still shut up, still void of 
 
 any signs of human existence, inside or out. 
 The one object which had decided Magdalen 
 on personally venturing herself in Vauxhall 
 ■Walk — the object of studying the looks, man- 
 ners, and habits of Mrs. Lecount and her ^j 
 master from a post of observation known only 1 
 to herself — was, tiuis far, utterly defeated. 
 After three hours watching at the window, 
 she had not even discovered enough to show 
 her that the hou.sc was inhabited at all. 
 
 Shortly after six o'clock the landlady dis- 
 turbed Mrs. Wragge's studies by spreading 
 the cloth for dinner. Magdalen placed her- 
 self at the table, in a position which still en- 
 abled her to command the view from the 
 window. Nothing happened. Tlie dinner 
 came to an end ; Mrs. Wragge (lulled by the 
 narcotic influences of annotating circulars and 
 eating and drinking with an appetite sharp- 
 ened by the captain's absence) withdrew to 
 an arm-chair, and fell asleep in an attitude 
 which would have caused her hu.sband the 
 acutest mental suffering; seven o'clock struck; 
 the shadows of the summer evening length- 
 ened stealthily on the gray pavement and the 
 brown house walls — and still the closed door 
 opposite remained shut; still the one window 
 open showed nothing but the black blank of 
 the room Inside, lifeless and changeless as if 
 that room had been a tomb. 
 
 ^Ir.s. Wragge's meek snoiing deepened In 
 tone; the evening wore on drearily; it was 
 close on eight o'clock — when an event hap- 
 pened at last. The street door opposite; opened 
 ibr the first time, and a woman appeared on 
 the tiircsliold. 
 
 Was the woman Mrs. Lecount? No. As 
 she came nearer her dress showed her to be a 
 servant. She had a large door-key In her 
 hand, and was evidently going out to perform 
 an errand. Roused, partly by curiosity — 
 partly by the impulse of the moment, which 
 urged her im])etuous nature Into action, after 
 the passive endurance of many hours past — 
 Magdalen snatclicd up her bonnet, and deter- 
 mined to follow the servant to her destination, 
 wiierever it might be. 
 
 The woman led her to the great thorough- 
 f;'.re of shops close at hand, called Lambeth 
 Walk. After proceeding some little distance, 
 and looking about her with the hesitation of a 
 person not well acquainted with the nelghbor- 
 liood, the servant crossed the road, and entered 
 a stationer's shoj). Magdalen ci'ossed the road 
 after her, and followed her In. 
 
 The inevitable delay in entering the shop 
 under these circumstances made Magdalen too 
 lat(; to hear what the woman asked for. The 
 first words spoken, however, by the man behind 
 the counter reached her ears, and informed 
 her that the servant's object Avas to buy a rail- 
 way Guide. 
 
 " Do you mean a Guide for this month ? or 
 a Guide for July?" asked the shopman, ad-, 
 dressing his customer. 
 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 99 
 
 "Master didn't tell me which," answered 
 the woman. " All I know is, ho 's going into 
 the country the day after to-morrow." 
 
 " The day after to-morrow is the first of 
 July," said 'tlie shopman. " The Guide your 
 master wants is the Guide for the new month. 
 It won't be j)ublisiied till to-morrow." 
 
 En2:ai;iiij,f to i ;dl-a;,Min on the next day. the 
 servant left the shop and took the way that 
 led back to V'auxhall Walk. 
 
 Magdalen purchased the first tritlc she saw 
 on the counter, and hastily retui'ned in the 
 same direction. The discovery she had just 
 made was of very serious iujportance to her ; 
 and she felt the ni'cessity of acting on it with 
 as little delay as possible. 
 
 On entering tlie fiont room at tlie lodgings 
 she found Mrs. Wragge just awake, lost in 
 drowsy bewilderment, witli her caj) fallen oil' 
 on her shoulders, and with one of her shoes 
 missing altogether. Magdal(>n endeavored to 
 persuade hi'r that she was tired al't^^r her jour- 
 ney, and that her wisest proceeding wouKl he 
 to go to bed. i\Irs. Wragge was perfectly 
 willing to [uofit by this suggestion, provided 
 [ she could find her shoe first. In looking for 
 ; the shoe she unfortunately discovered the cir- 
 1 culars, ])ut by on a side-table, and forthwith 
 I recovered hci- n-collectiou uf the eai'licr pro- 
 ceedings of the evening. 
 
 "(Jive us the pencil," said Mrs. Wragge, 
 shufiling the circulars in a violent hurry. " I 
 can't go to bed yet — I haven't half done mark- 
 ing down the things I want. Let 's see; where 
 did I leave ofl!"? Try FiticJi's feedimj-lmtt/e foj- 
 Infants. No ! there 's a cross against that : 
 the cross means I don't want it. Comfort in 
 the Field. Bnrkiers Iufkstruclible Huntinrj 
 Brctclies. Oh I dear, dear ! I 've lost the place. 
 No, I haven't I Here it is; here is my mark 
 against it. Elegant Cashmere Robes; slrici!;/ 
 oriental, very grand; redure.d to one pound 
 nineteen and sixpence. Be in time. Only three 
 left. Only three ! Oh do lend us the money, 
 and let 's go and get one !" 
 
 " Not to-night," said JMagdalen. " Suppose 
 you go to bed now, and finish the circulars to- 
 morrow? I will put them by the bedside for 
 you ; and you can go on with them as soon as 
 you wake, the first thing in the morning." 
 
 This suggestion met with Mrs. U'ragge's im- 
 mediate ai»proval. Magdalen took her into 
 the next room, and put her to bed like a child, 
 with her toys by her side. The room was so 
 narrow and the bed was so small, and Mrs. 
 Wragge, arrayed in the wliite apparel proper 
 for the occasion^ — with her moon face framed 
 round by a spacious halo of nightcap — looked 
 so hugely and disproportionately large, tiiat 
 Magdalen, anxious as she was, euuld not re- 
 press a smile on taking leave of her travelling 
 companion for the night. 
 
 "Aha!" cried Mrs. Wragge, cheerfully; 
 *' we '11 have that Cashmere Itobc to-morrow. 
 Come hen; ! T want to whisper something to 
 you. Just you look at me — I 'm going to sleep 
 
 crooked, and the captain 's not here to bawl at 
 me !" 
 
 The front room at the lodgings contained a 
 sofa-bedstead, which the landlady arranged 
 betimes for the night. This done, and "the 
 candles brought in, Magdalen was left alone t<> 
 shape her future course as her own thoughts 
 counselled her. 
 
 The (juestions and answers which had j)assed 
 in her j)resenee that evening at the stationer's 
 shop led {)laiidy to the conclusion that one 
 day more would bring Noel Vanstone's pres- 
 ent term of residence in Vauxhall Walk to 
 an end. Her first cautious U'solution to pass 
 many (i.13 s together in unsuspected observa- 
 tion of the house opposite before she ventured 
 lujrself inside was entirely frustrated by the 
 turn events had taken. She was ))laced in 
 the dilemma of running all risks headlong on 
 the next day — or of pausing for a future op- 
 portunity, which might never occur. There 
 was no middle course open to her. Until sluj 
 had si'cn Noel V'aiistone with her own eye.s, 
 and had discovered the worst there was to 
 fear from Airs. Leeount — until she had achiev- 
 ed this double object, with the needful pre- 
 caution of keeping her own identity carefully 
 in the dark — not a step could she advance 
 toward the accomplishment of the purpose 
 which had brought her to London. 
 
 On(; after another the minutes of the night 
 passed away ; one after another the throngmg 
 thoughts followed each other over her mind — 
 and still she reached no conelusion ; still she 
 faltered and doubted, with a hesitation new 
 to her in her experience of herself. At last 
 she crossed the room impatiently to seek the 
 trivial relief of unlocking her trunk, and 
 t.iking from it the few things that she wanted 
 for the night. Captain Wragtre's suspicions 
 had not misled him. There, hiilden between 
 two dresses, were the articles of co^itume which 
 he had missed from her box at Birmingham. 
 She turned them over one by one, to satisfy 
 herself that nothing she wanted had been for- 
 gotten, and n^tnrned once more to her post 
 of observation by the window. 
 
 Tlie house opposite was dark down to the 
 parlor. There the blind, previously raised, 
 was now drawn ov(!r the window : the light 
 burning lu-hind it showed her for the first 
 lime that the room was inhabited. Her eyes 
 brightened, and her color rose as she looked 
 at it. 
 
 " There he is !" she said to herself, in a 
 low, am^ry whisi)cr. " There he lives on our 
 monev, in the house that his father's warning 
 has closed against me !" She dropped the 
 blind which she had raised to look out, re- 
 turned U) her trunk, and took from it the gray 
 wig which wa," part of her dramatic costume 
 in the character of the North-country lady. 
 The wig had been crumpled in packing: she 
 nut it on, and went to the toilet-table to comb 
 it out. " His father has warned him against 
 
100 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Magdalen Vanstone," she sai.l, repeating tlie 
 passage in Mrs. Lecount's letter, and laughing 
 bitterly as she looked at herself in the glass. 
 •' I wonder whether his father has warned 
 him against Miss Garth ? To-morrow is sooner 
 than I bargained for. No matter : to-morrow 
 shall show." 
 
 CHAPTER TI. 
 
 The early morning, when Magdalen rose 
 and looked out, was rloudy and overcast. 
 But as the time advanced to the breakfast 
 hour, the threatening of rain passed away ; 
 and she was free to provide, without hindrance 
 from tlie weather, for the first necessity of 
 the day — the necessity of securing the ab- 
 sence of her travelling companion from the 
 house. 
 
 Mrs. Wraggc was dressed, armed at all 
 points with her collection of circulars, and 
 eager to be away by ten o'clock. At an ear- 
 lier hour Magdalen had provided for her being 
 properly taken care of by the landlady's eldest 
 daughter — a quiet, well-conducted girl, whose 
 interest in the shopping expedition was readily 
 secured by a little present of money for the 
 purchase, on her own account, of a parasol 
 and a muslin dress. Shortly afier ten o'clock 
 Magdalen dismissed Mrs. Wragge and her 
 attendant in a cab. She then' joined the 
 landlady — who was occupied in setting the 
 rooms in order up stairs — with the object of 
 ascertaining, by a little well-timed gossip, what 
 the daily habits might be of the inmates of 
 the house. 
 
 She discovered that there; were no other 
 lodgers but Mrs. Wragge and herself. The 
 landlady's husband was away all day, em- 
 ployed at a railway station. Iler second 
 daughter was charged with the care of the 
 kitchen, in the elder sister's absence. The 
 younger children were at school, and would 
 be back at one o'clock to dinner. The land- 
 lady herself " got up fine linen for ladies," 
 and expected to be occupied over her work 
 all that morning, in a little room built out at 
 the back of the premises. Thus there was 
 every facility for Magdalen's leaving the house 
 in disguise, and leaving it unobserved, pro- 
 vided she went out before the children came 
 back to dinner at one o'clock. 
 
 By eleven o'clock the apartments were set 
 in order, and the landlady had retired to pur- 
 sue her own employments. Magdalen softly 
 'locked the door of her room, drew the blind 
 ■ over the window, and entered at once on her 
 preparations for the perilous experiment of 
 the day. 
 
 The same quick perception of dangers to 
 ibe avoided, and difficulties to be overcome, 
 which had warned her to leave the extrava- 
 gant part of her character-costume in the box 
 •at Birmingham, now kept her mind fully alive 
 ■to the vast difference between a disguise worn 
 
 by gaslight, for the amusement of an audi- 
 ence, and a disguise assumed by daylight to 
 deceive the searching eyes of two strangers. 
 The first article of dress whix;h she put on 
 was an old gown of her own (made of the 
 material called "alpaca"), of a dark-brown 
 color, with a neat pattern of little star-shaped 
 spots in white. A double flounce running 
 round the bottom of this dress was the only 
 milliner's ornament which it presented — an 
 ornament not at all out of character with the 
 costume appropriate to an elderlj' lady. The J 
 disguise of hc;r head and face was the next ■ 
 object of her attention. She fitted and ar- 
 ranged the gray wig with the dexterity which 
 constant practice had given her; fixed the 
 false eyebrows (made rather large, and of 
 hair darker than the wig) carefully in their 
 position, with the gum she had with her for 
 the purpose; and stained her face with the 
 customary stage materials, so as to change the 
 transparent fairness of her complexion to the 
 dull, faintly opaque color of a woman in ill 
 health. The lines and markings of age fol- 
 lowed next ; and here the first obstacles pre- 
 sented themselves. The art which succeeded 
 by gaslight failed by day ; the difficulty of 
 hiding the plainly artificial nature of the 
 marks was almost insuperable. She turned 
 to her trunk, took from it two veils, and put- 
 ting on her old-fashioned bonnet tried the 
 effect of them in succession. One of the 
 veils (of black lace) was too thick to be worn 
 over the face at that summer season without 
 exciting remark. The other, of plain net, 
 allowed her features to be seen through it, 
 just indistinctly enough to permit the safe 
 introduction of certain lines (many fewer than 
 she was accustomed to use in performing the 
 character) on the forehead and at the sides of 
 the mouth. But the obstacle thus set aside 
 only opened the way to a new difficulty — the 
 difficulty of keeping her veil down while she 
 was speaking to other persons, without any 
 obvious reason for doing so. An instant's 
 consideration, and a chance look at her little 
 china pallet of stage colors, suggested to her 
 ready invention the production of a visible 
 excuse for wearing her veil. She deliberately 
 disfigured herself by artificially reddening the 
 insides of her eyelids, so as to produce an 
 appearance of inflammation which no human 
 creature but a doctor — and that doctor at 
 close quarters — could have detected as false. 
 She sprang to her feet and looked triumph- 
 antly at the hideous transformation of herself 
 reflected in the glass. Who could think it 
 strange now if she wore her veil down, and if 
 she begged Mrs. Lecount's permission to sit 
 with her back to the light ? 
 
 Her last proceeding was to put on the quiet 
 gray cloak which she had brought from Bir- 
 mingham, and which had been padded inside 
 by Captain Wragge's own experienced hands, 
 so as to hide the youthful grace and beauty of 
 her back and shoulders. Her costume being 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 101 
 
 now complete, she practisetl the walk wliieli 
 had been originally taught her as appropriate 
 to the character— a walk with a slight limp— 
 and returning to the glass, after a minute's 
 trial, exercised herself next in the disguise of 
 her voice and manner. This was the only 
 part of the character in which it had been 
 ])0ssible, with her physical peculiarities, to 
 produce an imitation of Miss (Jarth ; and here 
 tiic resemblance was perfect. The harsh 
 voice, the blunt manner, the habit of accom- 
 j)anvin!i certain j)hrases by an emphatic Itod 
 of tlio head, the Northumbrinu burr ex[)rcss- 
 iu'' itself in e\ery word wliicIi contained the 
 h'tter " r" — all these personal peculiarities of 
 the old north -country governess were repro- 
 duced to thi! life. The personal transforma- 
 tion tims completed was literally what Cajitain 
 Wragge had described it to be — a triumph in j 
 the art of self-disguise. Kxce])ting the one 
 case of seeing her face close, with a strong 
 light on it, nobody who now looked at IMagda- 
 len could have suspected for an instant that 
 she was other than an ailing, ill-made, un- 
 attractive woman of fifty years old at least. 
 
 Before unlocking the door she lookeii about 
 her carefully to make sure that none of her | 
 stage materials were exjiosed to view in case ; 
 the landlady entered the room in her absence. | 
 The only forgotten object belonging to her 
 that she discovered was a little packet of 
 Norah's letters which she had been reading 
 overnight, and which had been accidentally 
 pushed under the looking-glass while she was 
 engaged in dressing herself. As she took up 
 the letters to put them away the thought 
 struck her for the first time, " Would Norah 
 know me now if we met each other in the 
 street V" She looked in the glass and smiled 
 sadly. " No," she said, " not even Norah." 
 
 She unlocked the door after first looking at 
 her watch. It was close on twelve o'clock. 
 There was barely an hour left to try her des- 
 perate experiment, and to return to the lodg- 
 ing before the landlady's children came back 
 from school. 
 
 An instant's listening on the landing as- 
 sured her that all was quiet in the passage 
 below. She noiselessly descended the stairs, 
 and gained the street without having met any 
 living creature on her way otit of the house. 
 In another minute she had crossed the road 
 and had knocked at Noel Vanst^me's door. 
 
 The door was opened by the same woman- 
 servant whom she had followed on the previ- 
 ous evening to the stationer's shop. With a 
 momentary tremor, which recalled the memo- 
 rable first night of her appearance in public, 
 Magdalen inquired (in Miss Garth's voice, 
 an(i with Miss (iarth's manner) for Mrs. Le- 
 count. 
 
 " Mrs. Lccount has gone out, ma'am," said 
 the servant. 
 
 " Is Mr. Vanstone at home ?" asked Mag- 
 dalen, her resolution a-sserting itself at once 
 against the first obstacle that opposed it. 
 
 " My master is not up yet, ma'am." 
 
 Another ehei;k ! A weaker nature would 
 have accepted the warning. Magdalen's na- 
 ture rose in revolt against it. 
 
 " What time will Mrs. Lecount be back ?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " About one o'clock, ma'am. ' 
 
 " Say, if you please, ttiat I will call again 
 as soon after one o'clock as possible. I par- 
 ticularly wish to see Mrs. Lecount. My name 
 is Miss (iarth." 
 
 She turned and left the house, (ioing back 
 to her own room was out of the (juestion. The 
 servant (as Magdalen knew by not hearing 
 the door close) was looking after her; and, 
 moreover, she would expose herself, if she 
 went indoors, to the risk of going out again 
 exactly at the tintc when the landlady's chil- 
 dren were sure to be about the house. She 
 turned mechanically to the right, walked on 
 until she reacheil Vauxhall Bridge, and waited 
 there looking out over the river. 
 
 The interval of unemployed time now be- 
 fore her was nearly an hour. How should 
 she occupy it ? 
 
 As she asked herself the question, the 
 thought which had stru<k her when she put 
 away the packet of Norah's letters rose in her 
 mind once more. A su<lden impulse to test 
 the miserable completeness of her disguise 
 mixed with the higher and purer feeling at 
 her heart, and streiigtiiened her natural long- 
 ing to see her sistei-'s face again, though she 
 dare not discover herself and speak. Norah's 
 later letters had described in tlie fullest detail 
 her life as a governess — her hours for teach- 
 ing, her hours of leisure, her hours for walking 
 out with her puiiils. There was just time, if 
 she could find a vehicle at once, for Magdalen 
 to drive to the house of Norah's employer, 
 with the chance of getting there a few minutes 
 before the hour when her sister wouhl be 
 going out. " One look at her will tell me 
 more than a hun<lred letters I" With that 
 thought in her heart — with the one object of 
 following Norah on her daily walk, under pro- 
 tection of the. disguise — Magdalen hastened 
 over th(! bridge and made for the northern 
 bank of the river. 
 
 So, at the turning-point of her life — so, in 
 the interval before she took the irrevocable 
 step, and passed the threshold of Noel Van- 
 stontfs door — the forces of (iood triumphing 
 in the strife for her over the fones of Evil, 
 turned her back on the scene of her meditated 
 deception, atid hurried her mercifully farther 
 and tart her away from the fatal house. 
 
 She stoj)ped the fir.-st empty cab that passed 
 her; told the driver to go to New Street, 
 Spring Gardens : and promised to double his 
 fare it he reached his destination by a given 
 time. The man earned the money — more 
 than earned it, as the event proved. Mag- 
 dalen lia<i not taken ten steps in advance 
 along New Street, walking toward St. James' 
 
102 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Park, before the door of a house beyond her 
 opened and a lady in mourning came out 
 accompanied by two little girls." The lady 
 also took the direction of the park, without 
 tm-ning her head toward Magdalen, as she 
 descended the house-step. It mattered little; 
 Magdalen's heart looked through her eyes, 
 and told her that she saw Norah. 
 
 She followed them into St. Jamer/ Park, 
 and thence (along tiie Mall) into the Green 
 Park, venturing closer and closer as they 
 reached the grass and ascended the i-ising 
 ground in the direction of Hyde Park Corner. 
 Her eager eyes devoured every detail in No- 
 rah's dress, and detected the slightest change 
 that had taken place in her figure and her 
 bearing. She had become thinner since tlie 
 autumn ; her head drooped a little ; she walk- 
 ed wearily. Her mourning dress, worn with 
 the modest grace and neatness which no mis- 
 fortune could take from her, was suited to her 
 altered station ; her black gown was made of 
 stuff; her black shawl and bonnet were of 
 the plainest and cheapest kind. The two 
 little girls walking on either side of her were 
 dressed in silk. Magdalen instinctively hated 
 them. 
 
 She made a wide circuit on the grass, so as 
 to turn gradually and meet her sister, M-ithout 
 exciting suspicion that the meeting was con- 
 trived. Her heart beat fast ; a burning heat 
 glowed in her as she thought of her false hair, 
 her false color, her false dress, and saw the 
 dear familiar face coming nearer and nearer. 
 They passed each other close. Norah "s dark, 
 gentle eyes looked up, with a deeper liglit in 
 tliem, with a sadder beauty than of old — 
 rested all unconscious of the truth on her sis- 
 ter's face — iind looked away from it again, as 
 from the face of a stranger. That glance of 
 an instant struck Magdalen to the heart. Slie 
 stood rooted to the ground after Norah had 
 passed by. A horror of the vile disguise that 
 concealed her; a yearning to burst its tram- 
 mels and hide her shameful painted face on 
 Norah's bosom, took possession of her, body 
 and souL She turned and looked back. 
 
 Norah and the two children had reached 
 the higher ground, and were close to one of 
 the gates in the iron railing which fenced the 
 pai'k from the street. Drawn by an irresistible 
 fascination, Magdalen followed them again, 
 gained on them as they reached the gate, and 
 heard the voices of the two children raised 
 in angry dispute which way they wanted 
 to Avalk next. She saw Norali take them 
 through the gate, and then stoop and speak to 
 them, while waiting for an opportunity to cross 
 the road. They only grew the louder and the 
 angrier for what she said. The youngest — a 
 girl of eight or nine years old — flew into a 
 child's vehement passion, cried, screamed, and 
 even kicked at the governess. The people in 
 the street stopped and laughed ; some of them 
 jestingly advised a little wholesome correction ; 
 one woman asked Norah if she was the child's 
 
 mother; another pitied her audibly for being 
 the child's governess. Before JNIagdalen could 
 push her way throupjh the crowd — before her 
 all-mastering anxiety to help her sister had 
 blinded her to every other consideration, and 
 had brought her, self- betrayed, to Norah's 
 side — an open carriage passed the pavement 
 slowly, hindered in its progress by the press of 
 vehicles before it. An old lady seated inside 
 heard the chikfs cries, recognized Norah, and 
 called to her immediately. The footman parted 
 the crowd, and the children were put into the 
 carriage. " It 's lucky I happened to pass this 
 way," said the old lady, beckoning contemptu- 
 ously to Norah to take her place on the front 
 seat ; " you never could manage my daughter's 
 children, and you never will." Tiie footman 
 put up the steps — the carriage drove on with 
 the children and the governess — the crowd dis- 
 persed — and Magdalen was alone again. 
 
 •" So be it !"' sJie thought, bitterly. " I should 
 only have distressed her. We should only 
 have had the misery of parting to suffer again." 
 
 She mechanically retraced her steps; she 
 returned, as in a dream, to the open space of 
 the park. Arming itself treacherously with 
 the strength of her love for her sister, with 
 the vehemence of the indignation that .she felt 
 for her sister's sake, the terrible temptation of 
 her life fastened its hold on her more firmly 
 than ever. Through all the paint and dis- 
 figurement of the disguise, the fierce despair 
 of that strong and passionate nature lowered 
 haggard and horrible. Norah made an object 
 of public curiosity and amusement; Norah 
 reprimanded in the open street ; Norah the 
 hired victim of an old woman's insolence and 
 a child's ill-temper — and the same man to 
 thank for it who had sent Frank to China! — 
 and that man's son to thank after him 1 The 
 thought of her sister, which had turned her 
 from the scene of her meditated deception, 
 which had made the consciousness of her own 
 disguise hateful to her — was now the thought 
 which sanctioned that means, or any means, 
 to compass her end ; the thought which set 
 wings to her feet, and hurried her back nearer 
 and nearer to the fatal house. 
 
 She left the park again, and found hej-self 
 in the streets, Avithout knowing where. Once 
 more she hailed the first cab that passed her, 
 and told the man to drive to Vauxhall Walk. 
 
 The change from walking to riding quieted 
 her. She felt her attention returning to lier- 
 self and her dress. The necessity of making 
 sure that no accident had happened to her dis- 
 guise, in the interval since she liad left her 
 own room, impressed itself immediately on her 
 mind. She stopped the driver at the first 
 pastry-cook's shop which he passed, and there 
 obtained the means of consulting a looking- 
 glass before she ventured back to Vauxhall 
 Walk. 
 
 Her gray head-dress was disordered, and the 
 old-fashioned bonnet was a little on one side. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 lOS 
 
 Notliin<; else had suffered. She sot right the 
 few defects in her costume, and returned to 
 the cab. It was half-past one wlien she ap- 
 proached the house and knocked, for the sec- 
 ond time, at Noel Vanstone's door. The 
 woman-servant opened it, as before. 
 
 " Has Mrs. Lecount come back ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. Step this way, if you 
 please." 
 
 The servant preceded INIagdalen along an 
 empty passa;j;e, and ieadinu' her past an un- 
 carpeted staircase, openeil the door of a room 
 at the back of the liouse. The room was 
 liidited by hne window looking out on a yard ; 
 the walls' were bare ; the boaidcd floor was 
 uncovered. Two bedroom chairs stood against 
 the wall, and a kit,(dien table was ])laced un- 
 der the window, (hi the table stood a glass 
 tank filled with water, and ornamented in the 
 middle by a miniatui-c pyramid of rock-work 
 interlaced with weeds. Snails elyng to the 
 sides of the tank ; tadpoles and tiny fish swam 
 swiftly in the green v.ater ; slip])ery efts and 
 slimy frogs twiiuul their noiseless way in and 
 out of the weed}' rock -work ; and on the top 
 of the j)yrami(l tiiere sat solitary, cold as 
 the stone, brown as the stone, motionless as 
 the stone, a little bright-eyed toad. The art 
 of kee])ing fish and reptiles as domestic pets 
 had not at that time been popularized in Eng- 
 land ; and Magdalen, on entt'ring the room, 
 started back in irrepressible astonishment and 
 disgust from the first specimen of an Aquarium 
 that she had ever seen. 
 
 '' Don't be alarmed," said a woman's voice 
 behind her. " My pets hurt nobody.' 
 
 Magdalen turned and confronted Mrs. Le- 
 count. She had expected — -founding her an- 
 ticipations on the letter which the housekeeper 
 had written to her — to see a hard, wily, ill- 
 favored, insolent old woman. She found 
 hers<'lf in the presence of a lady of mild, 
 ingratiating manners, whose dress was the 
 perfeition of neatness, taste, and matronly 
 eimplicity; whose personal appearance was 
 little less than a triumph of physical resist- 
 ance to the deteriorating influence of time. 
 If Mrs. Le(;ount had struck some fifteen or 
 sixteen years off her real age, and had as- 
 serted herself to be eight-and-thirty, there 
 would not have been one man in a thousand, 
 or our woman in a hundred, who Avould have 
 liesitated to believe her. Her dark hair was 
 just turning to gray, and no more. It was 
 plainly parted under a spotless lace cap, spar- 
 iii'dy ornamented with mourning ribbons. Not 
 a wrinkle appcari'd on her smooth, white 
 foreiiead, or her plump white cheeks. Her 
 double chin was dimpled, and her teeth were 
 marvels of whiteness and regularity. Her 
 lips might have been critically considered 
 fts too thin, if they had not been accustomed 
 to make the lx!st of their defects by means 
 of a pleading and persuasive smile. Her 
 large l)lack eyes might have looked fierce 
 if they had been set in the face of another 
 
 woman ; they were mild and melting in the 
 face of Mrs. Lecount; they were tenderly 
 interested in everything she looked at — in 
 Magdalen; in the toad on the rock -work ; in 
 the back-yard view from the window ; in her 
 own plump, fair hands, which she rubbed 
 sot'tly one over the other while she spoke ; in 
 her own pretty cambrics chemisette, which 
 she had a habit of looking at complacently 
 while she listened to others. The elegant 
 black gown in which she mourned the mem- 
 ory of Michael Vanstone was not a mere 
 dress — it was a well-made comj)liment paid 
 to Death. Her innocent wliite muslin apron 
 was a little domestic poem in itself Her jet 
 ear-rings were so modest in their pretensions 
 that a Quaker might have looked at them 
 and committed no sin. The comely plump- 
 ness of her face was matched by the comely 
 plumpness of her figifre : it glided smoothly 
 over the ground ; it flowed in sed.ate undu- 
 lations when she walked. There are not 
 many men who could have observed Mrs. 
 Lecount entirely from the Platonic point of 
 view — lads in their teens would have found 
 her irresistible — women only could have hard- 
 ened their hearts against her, and mercilessly 
 forced their way inward through that fair and 
 smiling surface. Magdalen's first glance at 
 this Venus of the autumn period of female 
 life more than satisfied her that she had done 
 well to feel her ground in disguise, before she 
 ventured on matching herself against Mrs. 
 Lecount. 
 
 " Have 1 the pleasure of addressing th.e 
 lady who called this morning V" imjuired the 
 housekeeper. " Am I speaking to Miss 
 (iarth V" 
 
 Something in the (wpres.sion of her eyes, as 
 she asked that (]uestion, warned jMagdalen to 
 turn her face further inward from the window 
 than she had turned it yet. The bare doubt 
 whether the housekeeper might not have seen 
 her already under too strong a light shook hi-r 
 self-possession for the moment. She gave, her- 
 self time to recover it, and merely answered 
 by a bow. 
 
 " Accept my excuses, ma'am, for the place 
 in which T am compelled to receive you," 
 proceeded Mrs. Lecount, in fluent Kiifdish, 
 spoken with a foreign accent. " Mr. Van- 
 stone is only here for a ti'mporary purpose. 
 We leave for the sea-side to-morrow after- 
 noon ; and it has not been thought worth 
 while to set the house in proper order. Will 
 you take a seat, and oblige me by mentioning 
 the object of ycur visit?" 
 
 She glided imper(ei)tibly a step or two 
 nearer to Magdalen, and ])laced a chair for 
 her exactly opposite tlie light from the win- 
 dow. " I'ray sit down," said Mrs. Lecount, 
 looking with the tenderest interest at the 
 visitor's inflamed eyes through the visitor's 
 net veil. 
 
 " I am suffering, as you sec, from a com- 
 plaint in the eyes," replied Magdalen, steadily 
 
104 
 
 NO NAINIE. 
 
 keeping her profile toward tlie window, and 
 carefully pitching her voice to the tone of 
 Miss Garth's. " I must beg your permission 
 to wear my veil down, and to sit away from 
 the light." She said those words feeling mis- 
 tress of herself again. With perfect compos- 
 ure she drew the chair back into the corner 
 of the room beyond the window ; and seated 
 herself, kee{)ing the shadow of her bonnet 
 well over her face. Mrs. Lecount's persua- 
 sive lips murmured a polite expression of sym- 
 pathy ; Mrs. Lccount'.s amiable black eyes 
 looked more interested in the strange lady 
 than ever. She placed a cliair for herself 
 exactly on a line with Magdalen's, and sat 
 so close to the wall as to force her visitor 
 either to turn her head a little further round 
 toward the window, or to fail in politeness by 
 not looking at the persQn whom she addressed. 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Lecount, with a confidential 
 little cough. " And to what circumstance am 
 I indebted for the honor of this visit." 
 
 " May I inquire, first, if my name happens 
 to be familiar to you V" said Magdalen, turning 
 toward her as a matter of necessity — but 
 coolly holding up her handkerchief, at the 
 same time, between her face and the light. 
 
 " No,'' answered Mrs. Lecount, with another 
 little cough, rather harsher than the first; 
 '•the name of Mi.ss Garth is not familiar to me." 
 
 "In that case," pursued Magdalen, " T shall 
 best explain the t)bject that causes me to 
 intrude on you by mentioning who I am. I 
 lived for many years as governess in the family 
 of the late Mr. Andrew Vanstone, of Combe- 
 Raven, and I come here in the interest of his 
 orphan daughters." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount's hands, which had been 
 smoothly sliding one over the other up to this 
 time, suddenly stopped; and Mrs. Lecount's 
 lips self-1'orgetfully shutting up, owned they 
 were too thin at the very outset of the inter- 
 view. 
 
 " I am surprised you can bear the light out 
 of doors without a green shade," she quietly 
 remarked, leaving the false Miss Garth's an- 
 nouncement of herself as completely unnoticed 
 as if she had not spoken at all. 
 
 " I find a sliade over my eyei keeps them 
 too hot at this time of the year," rejoined 
 jNIagdalen, steadily matching the housekeep- 
 er's conq^osure. " May I ask whether you 
 heard what I said just now on the subject of 
 my errand in this house ?" 
 
 " May I inquire on my side, ma'am, in what 
 way that errand can possibly concern mef" 
 retorted Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 " Certainly," said Magdalen. " I come to 
 you because Mr. Noel Vanstone's intentions 
 toward the two young ladies were made known 
 to them in the form of a letter from yourself." 
 
 That plain answer had its efTect. It warned 
 Mrs. Lecount that the strange lady was better 
 inforuied than she had at first suspected, and 
 that it might hardly be wise, under the cir- 
 cumstances, to dismiss her unheard. 
 
 " Pray pardon me," said the housekeeper, 
 " I scarcely understood before ; I perfectly 
 understand*^ now. You are mistaken, ma'am, 
 in sup])osing that I am of any importance, or 
 that I exercise any influence in this painful 
 matter. I am the mouth-piece of Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone — the pen he holds, if you will ex- 
 cuse the expression, nothing more. He is an 
 invalid; and, like other invalid?, he has his 
 })ad days and his good. It was his bad day 
 when that answer was written to the young 
 person — shall I call her Miss Vanstone ? I 
 will with pleasure, poor girl ; for who am I to 
 make distinctions, and what is it to me whether 
 her parents were married or not? As I was 
 saying, it was one of Mr. Noel Vanstone's bad 
 days when that answer was sent, and therefore 
 I iiad to write it, sinqjly as his secretary, for 
 want of a better. If you wish to speak on the 
 subject of these young ladies — shall I call 
 them young ladies, as you did just now ? no, 
 poor things, I will call them the Miss Van- 
 stones. If you wish to speak on the subject 
 of these Miss Vanstones, I will mention your 
 name, and your object in favoring me with 
 this call, to Mr. Noel Vanstone. He is alone 
 in the parlor, and this is one of his good days. 
 1 have the influence of an old servant over 
 him, and I will use that influence with pleas- 
 ure in your behalf. Shall I go at once ?" 
 asked Mrs. Lecount, rising with the friendliest 
 anxiety to make herself useful. 
 
 " If you please," said Magdalen, with grate- 
 ful alacrity ; " and if I am not taking anj 
 undue advantage of your kindness." 
 
 " On the contrary," rejoined Mrs. Lecount, 
 " you are laying me under an obligation — you 
 are permitting me, in my very limited way, to 
 assist the performance of a benevolent action." 
 She bowed, smiled, and glided out of the room. 
 
 Left by herself, Magdalen allowed the anger 
 which she had suppressed in Mrs. Lecount's 
 presence to break free from her. For want of 
 a nobler object of attack, it took the direction 
 of the toad. The sight of the hideous little 
 reptile sitting placid on his rock throne, with 
 his bright eyes staring impenetrably into va- 
 cancy, irritated every nerve in her body. She 
 looked at the creature with a shrinking inten- 
 sity of hatred ; she whispered at it maliciously 
 through her set teeth. " I wonder whose blood 
 runs coldest," she said, " yours, you little mon- 
 ster, or Mrs. Lecount's ? I wonder which is 
 the slimiest, her heart or your back ? You 
 hateful wretch, do you know what your mis- 
 tress is ? Your mistress is a devil !" 
 
 The speckled skin under the toad's mouth 
 mysteriously wrinkled itself, then slowly ex- 
 panded again, as if he had swallowed the 
 words just addressed to him. Magdalen started 
 back in disgust from the first perceptible move- 
 ment in the creature's body, trifling as it was, 
 and returned to her chair. She had not saated 
 herself again a moment too soon. The door 
 opened noiselessly, and Mrs. Lecount appeared 
 once more. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 105 
 
 " Mr. Vanstone will see you," she said, " if 
 you will kindly wait a few minutes. He will 
 ring the parlor-bell when his present occupa- 
 tion is at an end, and he is ready to receive 
 you. Be careful, ma'am, not to depress his 
 spirits, or to agitate him in any way. His 
 heart has been a cause of serious anxiety to 
 those about Iiim from his earliest years. There 
 is no positive disease; there is only a chronic 
 feebleness — a fatty degeneration — a want of 
 TJtal power in the organ itself His heart will 
 go on well enough if you don't give his heart 
 too much to do — tliat is the advice of all the 
 medical men who have .^een bim. You will 
 not forget it, and you will keep a guard over 
 your conversation accordingly. Talking of 
 medical men, liave you ever tried tlie (lolden 
 Ointment for that sad affliction in your eyes? 
 It has been described to me as an excellent 
 remedy." 
 
 " It has not succeeded in my case," replied 
 Magdalen, sharply. " Before 1 see Mv. Noel 
 Vau.^tone," shi! continued. " may I inquire — " 
 
 "I beg your pardon," interposed Mrs. Le- 
 count. " Does your question refer in any way 
 to those two poor girls V" 
 
 " It refers to the Miss Vanstones." 
 
 " Then I can't enter into it. P^xcuse me, I 
 really can't discuss these poor girls (I am so 
 glad to hear you call them the Miss Van- 
 stones !) except in my master's jjresence, and 
 by my master's express permission. Let us 
 talk of something else while we are waiting 
 here. Will you notice my glass Tank? 1 
 have every reason to believe that it is a per- 
 fect novelty in England." 
 
 "I looked at the Tank while you Avere out 
 of the room," said M.igdalen. 
 
 "Did you? You take no interest in the 
 subject, I dare say ? Quite natural. I took 
 no interest either until 1 was married. My 
 dear husband — dead many years since — form- 
 ed my tastes, and elevated me to himself You 
 have heard of the late Professor Lecomte, the 
 eminent Swiss naturalist ? I am his widow. 
 The Englisli circle at Zurich (where I lived in 
 my late master's service) Anglicized my name 
 to Lci'ount. Your generous country -people 
 will have nothing foreign about them — not 
 even a name — if they can help it. But I was 
 speaking of my husband — my dear husband, 
 who pt-rmitted me to assist him in his pursuits. 
 I have iiad only one interest since liis deatli — 
 an interest in science. Eminent in many 
 things, the Professor was great at reptiles. He 
 lelt me his Subje(,'ts and his Tank. I had no 
 other legacy. There is the Tank. All the 
 Subjects died but this quiet little fellow — this 
 nice little toad I Are you surprised at ray 
 liking him ? There is nothing to be surprised 
 at. The Professor lived long enough to ele- 
 vate me above the common prejudice against 
 the reptile creation. Properly understood, the 
 reptile creation i.'* beautiful. Properly dissect- 
 ed, the reptile creation is instructive in tlie last 
 degree." She stretched out her little fiuger 
 14 
 
 and gently stroked the toad's back with the 
 tip of it. " So refreshing to the touch !" said 
 Mri. Lccount. " So nice and cool this sum- 
 mer weatlier !" 
 
 The bell from the parlor rang. Mrs. Le- 
 count rose, bent fondly over the A([uarium, 
 and chirruped to the toad at parting as if it 
 had been a bird. " Mr. Vanstone is^-eady to 
 receive you. Follow me, if you please. Miss 
 Garth." With these words siie opened the 
 door and led the way out of the room. 
 
 CHAPTEB III. 
 
 " I\Iiss Garth, Sir," said Mrs. Lecount, 
 opening tlie parlor door, and announcing the 
 visitor's appearance with the tone and man- 
 ner of a well-bred servant. 
 
 Magdalen found herself in a long, narrow 
 room, consisting of a back parlor and a front 
 parlor, which had been thrown into one by 
 opening the Iblding - doors between them. 
 Seated not far from the front window, with 
 his back to the light, slie saw a frail, flaxen- 
 haired, self-satisiied little man, clothed in a 
 fair white dressing-gown, many sizes too large 
 for him, with a nosegay of violets drawn neat- 
 I ly through the button-hole over his breast. 
 I He looked from thirty to five-and-thirty years 
 I old. His complexion was as delicate as a 
 I young girl's, his eyes were of the lightest blue, 
 I his upper lip was adorned by a weak little 
 j wliite mustache, waxed and twisted at either 
 1 end into a tiiin spiral curl. Wlien any object 
 specially attracted his atti'ution he half-closed 
 his eyelids to look af it. When he smiled, the 
 skin at his temples crumpled itself up into a 
 nest of wicked litile wrinkles. He had a 
 ])late of strawberries on his lap, with a nap- 
 kin under them to preserve the purity of his 
 white dressing-gown. At his right hand stood 
 a large round table, covered with a collection 
 of foreign curiosities, which seemed to have 
 been brought together from the four quarters 
 of the globe. Stufied birds from Africa, por- 
 celain monsters from China, silver ornaments 
 and utensils from India and Peru, mosaic 
 work from Italy, and bronzes from France, 
 were all heaped together, pell-mell, with the 
 coarse deal boxes and dingy leather cases 
 which served to pack them for travelling. The 
 little man ajiologized, with a cheerful and 
 simpering conceit, for his litter of curiosities, 
 his dressing-gown, and his delicate health; 
 and waving iiis hand toward a chair, placed 
 his attention, with pragmatical politeness, at 
 the visitor's disposal. Magdalen looked at 
 him with a momentary doubt whether Mrs. 
 Lecount had not deceived her. Was this the 
 man who mercilessly followed the path on 
 which his merciless fath<>r had walked before 
 him ? Shi! could hardly believe it. '' Take a 
 seat, Mi.ss (iarth," he re]>eate<l. Observing 
 her hesitation, and announcing his own name, 
 
106 
 
 XO NAME. 
 
 in a hi'sli, thin, fretfully-consequential Toice : 
 " I am Mr. Noel Vanstone. You wisbed to 
 see me — here I am ! " 
 
 " May I be permitted to retire, Sir ? " in- 
 quired Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 "Certainly not ! " replied ber master. "Stay 
 here, Lecount, and keep us company. Mrs. 
 Lecount has my liille.=t confidence." he con- 
 tinued, addressinij' Magdalen. ""Whatever 
 you say to me ma'am, you say to her. She is 
 a domestic treasure. There is not another 
 house in England has such a treasure as Mrs. 
 Lecount." 
 
 The housekeeper li.stened to the praise of 
 her domestic virtues with eyes immovably 
 ii.xcd on her ele<iant chemisette. But Mag- 
 dalen's quick penetration had previously de- 
 tected a look that passed between Mrs. Le- 
 count and her master, which suggested that 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone had been instructed be- 
 ibrehand whnt to say and do in his visitor's 
 presence. The suspicion of this, and the ob- 
 stacles Avhich the room presenti'd to arrang- 
 ing her position in it so as to keep her face 
 from the light, warned Magdalen to be on her 
 guard. 
 
 She had taken her chair at first nearly mid- 
 way in the room. An instant's atter-reflection 
 induced her to move her .seat toward the left 
 hand, so as to place herself just inside, and! 
 c!o.>e against, the left post of the fblding-door. I 
 In this position she dextrously barred the only 
 passage by which Mrs. Lecou)it could have 
 skirted round the large table, and contrived 
 to front Magdalen by taking a (dialr at her 
 master's side. On the right hand of the table 
 the em[jty space was well occupied by the 
 fire-place and fender, by some travelling 
 trunks, and a large packing-case. Tliere was 
 no alternative left for Mrs. Lecount but to 
 yjlace herself on a line with Magdalen, a<;ainst 
 rhe opposite post of the tblding-door, or to 
 jtush rudely jiast the visitor, with the obvious 
 intention of getting in front of her. With an 
 expres-sive little cough, and witli one steady 
 look at her master, the housekeeper conceded 
 tlie point, and took !ier seat against the right- 
 hand dool--post. "Wait a little," thought Mrs. 
 Lecount," "my turn next!" 
 
 " Mind what you are about, ma'am !" cried 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone, as Magdalen acciclentnlly 
 approached the table in moving her chair. 
 " Mind the sleeve of your cloak ! Excuse, 
 me, you nearly knocked down that silver 
 candlestick. Pi-ay don't suppose it 's a com- 
 mon candlestick. ' It 'g nothing of the sort — 
 it 's a Peruvian candlestick. There are only 
 three of that pattern in the world. One is in 
 the possession of the President of Peru ; one 
 is locked up in the Vatican ; and one is on 
 My table. It cost ten pounds; it 's worth 
 fifty. One of my farther's bargains, ma'am. 
 AH these things are my farther's bargains. 
 There is not another house in England which 
 has such curiosities as these. Sit down, Le- 
 count ; I beg you will make yourself comfort- 
 
 I able. Mrs. Lecount ' is like the curiosities^ 
 
 ' Miss Garth — she is one of my father's bar- 
 
 I gains. You are one of my father's bargains, 
 
 are you not, Lecount ? My father was a 
 
 I remarkable man, ma'am. You will be re- 
 
 niinded of him here at every turn. I have 
 
 got his dressing-gown on at this moment. No 
 
 I such linen as this is made now; you can't get 
 
 : it for love or money. Would you like to feel 
 
 the texture ? Perhaps you 're no judge of 
 
 texture ? Perhaps you would prefer talking 
 
 i to me about these two pupils of yours? They 
 
 I are two, are they not ? Are they fine girls ? 
 
 j Plump, fresh, full-blown English beauties ?" 
 
 I " Excuse me. Sir," interposed Mrs. Le- 
 
 ! count, sorrowfully. " I must really beg per- 
 
 j mission to retire if you speak of the poor 
 
 things in that way. I can't sit by, Sir, and 
 
 hear them turned into ridicule. Consider 
 
 tjicir position ; consider Miss Garth." 
 
 " You good creature I" said Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone, surveying the housekeeper through bis 
 half-closed eyelids. "You excellent Lecount! 
 I assure you, ma'am, Mrs. Lecount is a worthy 
 creature. You will observe that she pities the 
 two girls. I don't go so far as that myself, but 
 I can make allowances for them. I am a 
 large-minded man. I can make allowances 
 for them and for you." He smiled Avith the 
 most cordial pohteness, and helped himself to 
 a strawberry from the dish on his lap. 
 
 " You shock Miss Garth ; indeed. Sir, 
 without meaning it, you shock Miss Garth," 
 remonstrated Mrs. Lecount. She is not ac- 
 customed to you as I am. Consider Miss 
 Garth, Sir. As a favor to me, consider Miss 
 Garth." 
 
 Thus far Magdalen had resolutely kept 
 silence. The burning anger which would 
 have betrayed her in an instant if she had let 
 it flash its way to the surface throbbed fast 
 and fiercely at her heart, and warned her, 
 while Noel Vanstone was speaking, to close ber 
 lips. She would have allowed him to talk 
 on uninterruptedly for some minutes more if 
 Mrs. Lecount had not interfered for the second 
 time. The refined insolence of the house- 
 keeper's pity was a woman's insolence, and it 
 stung her into instantly controlling herself. 
 She liad never more admirably imitated Miss 
 Garth's voice and manner than when she 
 spoke her next words. 
 
 " You are very good," she said to Mrs. Le- 
 count. " I make no claim to be treated with 
 any extraordinai'y consideration. I am a gov- 
 erness, and I don't expect it. I have only one 
 favor to ask. I beg Mr. Noel Vanstone, for 
 his own sake, to hear what I have to say to 
 him." 
 
 " You understand, Sir," observed Mrs. Le- 
 count. " It appears that Miss Garth has some 
 serious warnin<r to give you. She says you 
 are to hear her for your own sake." 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's fair complexion sud- 
 denly turned white. He put away the plate 
 of strawberries among his father's bargains. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 lO; 
 
 His hand shook, and his little fiorure twisted 
 itself uneasily in the chair. Magdalen ob- 
 served him attentively. " One discovery 
 already," she thought ; " he is a coward !" 
 "What do you mean, ma'am?" asked Mr. 
 
 One of the letters to my father was a threat- 
 ening letter — wasn't it, Lecouiit ?" 
 
 " She expressed her feelings, poor child," 
 said Mrs. Lecount. "I thoiight it hard to 
 send her back her letter, but vour dear lather 
 
 Noel Vanstoiie, with visible trepidation of knew best. What I said at' the time was, 
 look and manner. '_' What do you mean by Why not let her express her feelings V What 
 telling me I must listen to yon for my own are a few threatening words, after all ? In her 
 sake? If you come here to intimidate me, j position, poor creature, thev are words, and 
 
 you come to the wrong man. My strength of' nothing mori-. 
 
 character was universally noticed in our circle 
 at Zurich — wasn't it, Lecount ?" 
 
 " Universally, Sir," said Mrs. Lecount. 
 " But let us hear Miss Gartii. Perhaps I have 
 misinterpreted her meaning?" 
 
 " On the contrary." replied Magdalen, 
 
 " I advise you not to be too sure of that," 
 said Magdalen. "1 know her better than vou 
 do." 
 
 She paused at those words — paused in a 
 momenlary terror. The sting of ]\Irs. Le- 
 count's ])ity had nearly irritated her into ibr- 
 
 "you have exactly expressed my meaning, i getting her assumed character, and speakiu!. 
 My object in coming here is to wai-n Mr. in her own voice. 
 
 "You have referred to the letters written 
 by my pupil," she resumed, addressing Noel 
 Vanstone, as soon as she felt sure of hers'df 
 again. " We will say nothing about what she 
 has written to your father ; we will only speak 
 of what she has written to you. Is there any- 
 thing unbecoming in her letter, anything said 
 in it that is false. ? Is it not true that thi'se 
 two sisters have been crnelly deprived of the 
 provision which their father made for them? 
 His will to this day speaks for him and ibr 
 them ; and it only speaks t« uo ])urpose be- 
 cause he was not aware that his marriage 
 obliged him to make it again, and because lie 
 died before he could remedy the error. Can 
 you deny that ?" 
 
 ]\Ir. Noel Vanstone smiled, and helped him- 
 self to a strawberry. " I don't attempt to 
 deny it," he said. " Go on. Miss Garth." 
 
 " Is it not true," persisted Magdalen, "that 
 the law which has taken the money from these 
 sisters, Avhose father made no second will, has 
 now given that very money to you, whose 
 father made no will at all ? Surely, explain 
 it how you may, this is hard on those orphan 
 girls ?" 
 
 " Very hard," replied Mr. Noel Vanstone. 
 " It strikes you in that light too — doesn't it, 
 Lecount ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lecount shook her head, and closed 
 her handsome black eyes. " Harrowing," she 
 said; "I can characterize it. Miss Garth, by 
 no other word — harrowing. How the young 
 person — no ! how Miss Vanstone the younger 
 — discovered that my late respected master 
 made no will 1 am at a loss to Understand, 
 Perhaps it was put in tiie papers ? But I am 
 interrupting you, Aliss Garth. You have 
 somethinir more to sny about your j)upirs let- 
 ter ?" She noiselessly drew her chair forward 
 as she said those words a few inches bevond 
 the line of the visitor's «hair. The attempt 
 was neatly made, but it proved useless. Mag- 
 dalen only kept her head more to the left, and 
 the packing-case on the floor prevented Mrs. 
 Lecount from advancing any farther. 
 
 "I' have only one more question to put," 
 
 Noel Vanstone against the course which he is 
 now taking." 
 
 " Don't !" pleaded Mrs. Lecount. " Oh, if 
 you want to help these poor girls, don't talk 
 in that way ! Soften his resolution, ma'am, 
 by entreaties; don't strengthen it by threats!" 
 She a little overstrained the tone of humility 
 in wiiich slie spoke those words — a little over- 
 acted the look of apprehension which accom- 
 panied them. If Magdalen had not seen 
 plainly enough already that it was Mrs. Le- 
 count's habitual practice to decide everything 
 for her master in the first instance, and then 
 to persuade him that he was not acting under 
 his housekeeper's resolution, but under his 
 own. slie would have seen it now. 
 
 " You hear wJiat Lecount has just said ?" 
 remarked Mr. Noel Vanstone. " You hear 
 the unsolicited testimony of a person who has 
 known me from childhood? Take care. Miss 
 Garth — take care !" He complacently ar- 
 ranged the tails of his white dressing-gown 
 over iiis knees, and took the plate of straw- 
 berries back on his lap. 
 
 " I have no wish to offend you," said Mag- 
 dalen. " I am only anxious to oi)en yonr eyes 
 to the truth. You are not acquainted with 
 the characters of the two sisters whose for- 
 tunes have fallen into your possession. I have 
 known them Irom childhood, and I come to 
 give you the benefit of my experience in their 
 interests aiul in yours. You have nothing to 
 dread from the elder of the two; she patiently 
 accepts the hard lot which you, and your 
 father before you, have forced on her. The 
 younger sister's conduct is the very opposite 
 of this. She has already declined to submit 
 to your father's decision, and she noAv refu.ses 
 to be silenced by Mrs. Lecount's letter. Take 
 my word for it, she is capable of giving you 
 serious trouble if you persist in making an 
 enemy of her." 
 
 Mr, Noel Vanstone changed color once 
 more, and began to fidget again in his chair. 
 " Serious trouble," he repeated, witli a blank 
 look. " If you mean writing letters, ma'am, 
 she has given trouble enougli already. She 
 
 hua written once to me. aud twict to my fathur. tadd MAj^Julen. " My pupil'.s letter addressed 
 
108 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 a proposal to Mr. Noel Vanstone. I beg him 
 to inform me why he has refused to consider 
 it." 
 
 " My good lady!" cried Mr. Noel Vanstone, 
 arching his white eyebi-ows in satirical aston- 
 ishment; "are you really in earnest? Do you 
 know what the proposal is V Have you seen 
 the letter ?" 
 
 "I am quite in earnest," said Magdalen, 
 " and I have seen the letter. It entreats you 
 to remember how Mr. Andrew Vanstone's for- 
 tune has come into your hands ; it informs 
 you that one half of that fortune, divided be- 
 tween his daughters, was what his will intended 
 them to have ; and it asks of your sense of 
 justice to do for his children what he would 
 have done for them himself if he had lived. 
 In plainer words still, it asks you to give one- 
 half of the money to the daughters, and it 
 leaves you free to keep the other half yourself. 
 That is the proposal. Why have you' refused 
 , to consider it ?" 
 
 " For the simplest possible reason. Miss 
 Garth," said Mr. Noel Vanstone, in high good- 
 humor. " Allow me to remind you of a "well- 
 known proverb : A fool and his money are 
 soon parted. Whatever else I maj- be, ma'.am, 
 I 'm not a fool." 
 
 "Don't put it in that way. Sir!" remon- 
 strated Mrs. Lecouut. " Be serious — pray be 
 serious !" 
 
 " Quite impossible, Lecount," rejoined her 
 master. " I can't be serious. My jjoor father. 
 Miss Garth, took a high moral ])oint of view 
 in this matter. Lecount there takes a high 
 moral point of view — don't you, Lecount ? I 
 do nothing of the sort. I have lived too long 
 in the continental atmosphere to trouble my- 
 self about moral points of view. My course 
 in th-is business is as plain as two and two 
 make four. I have got the money, and I 
 should be a born idiot if I parted with it. 
 There is my point of view ! Simple enough, 
 isn't it ? I don't stand on my dignity ; I don't 
 meet you with the law, wJiich is all on my 
 side ; I don't blame your coming here as a 
 total stranger to try and alter my resolution ; 
 I den'r blame the two girls for wanting to di]) 
 their fingers into my purse. All I say is, I 
 am not fool enough to open it. Pas si hele, as 
 we used to say in the English circle at Zurich. 
 You understand French, Miss Garth ? Pas 
 si hele .'" He set aside his plate of strawber- 
 ries once more, and daintily dried his lingers 
 on his fine white napkin. 
 
 Magdalen kept her temper. If she could 
 have struck him dead by lifting her hand at 
 that moment it is probable she would Kave 
 lifted it. But she kept her temper. 
 
 " Am I to understand," she asked, " that 
 the last words you have to say in this matter 
 are the words said for you in Mrs. Lecount's 
 letter ?" 
 
 " Precisely so," replied Mr. Noel Vanstone. 
 
 " You have inherited your own father's for- 
 tun« as well as the fortune of Mr. Andrew 
 
 Vanstone, and yet you feel no obligation to 
 act from motives of justice or generosity to- 
 ward these two sisters ? All you think it 
 necessary to say to them is — you have got 
 the money, and you refuse to part with, a 
 single farthing of it ?" 
 
 " ^Most accurately stated ! Miss Garth, you 
 are a woman of business. Lecount, Miss 
 Garth is a woman of business." 
 
 "Don't appeal to me. Sir!" cried Mrs. Le- 
 count, gracefully wringing her plump white 
 hands. " I can't bear it ! I nuist interfere ! 
 Let me suggest — oh, what do you call it in 
 English ? a compromise. Dear Mr. Noel, you 
 are ])erversely refusing to do yourself justice ; 
 you have better reasons than the reason you 
 have given to Miss Garth. You follow your 
 honori;d father's example ; you feel it due to 
 his memory to act in this matter as he acted 
 before you. That is his leason, IMiss Garth — 
 I implore you on my knees, take that as his 
 reason. He will do what his dear father did; 
 no more, no less. His dear father made a 
 proposal, and he himself will now make that 
 proposal over again. Yes, Mr. Noel, you will 
 remember what this poor girl says in her let- 
 ter to you. Her sister has been obliged to go 
 out as a governess; and she herself, in losing 
 her fortune, has lost the hope of her marriage 
 for years and 3'ears to come. You will re- 
 member this — and you will give the hundred 
 pounds to one, and the hundred pounds to the 
 other, which your admirable lather oflTered in 
 tiie past time V If he does this, Miss Garth, 
 will he do enough ? If he gives a hundred 
 ])Ounds each to these unfortunate sisters — ?" 
 
 " He will repent the insult to the last hour 
 of his life,'' said Magdalen. 
 
 The instant that answer passed her lips she 
 would have given worlds to recall it. Mrs. 
 Lecount had })lanted her sting in the right 
 place at last. Those rash words of Magda- 
 len's had burst from her passionately, in her 
 own voii'c. 
 
 Nothing but the habit of public perform- 
 ance saved her from making the serious error 
 that she had committed more palpable still 
 by attempting to set it right. Here her past 
 practice in the Entei'tainment came to her 
 rescue, and urged her to go on instantly, in 
 Miss Garth's voice, as if nothing had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 " You mean well, Mrs. Lecount," she con- 
 tinued, '• but you are doing harm instead of 
 good. ]\Iy pupils will accept no such com- 
 pronu'se as you propose. I am sorry to have 
 spoken violently just now ; I beg you will 
 excuse me." She looked hard for information 
 in the housekeepers face while she spoke 
 those conciliatory words. Mrs. Lecount baf- 
 fled the look by putting her handkerchief to 
 her eyes. Had she, or had she not, noticed 
 the momentary change in Magdalen's voice 
 from the tones that were assumed to the tonet 
 that were natural ? Impossible to say. 
 
 " What more can I do !" murmured Mrs. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 109 
 
 Leoount, beliind her handkerchief. " Give 
 me time to think — give me lime to recover 
 myself. JNIay I retire, Sir, for a moment? 
 My nerves are sliaken by this sad scene. I 
 must have a glass of water, or I think I shall 
 faint. Don't go yet, Miss Garth. 1 beg you 
 •will "-ive us time to set this sad matter right, 
 if we can ; I beg you will remain until I come 
 back." 
 
 There were two doors of entrance to the 
 room. One, the door into the front parlor, 
 close at Magdalen's hand. The other, the j 
 door into the back jjarlor, situated behind j 
 lier. Mrs. Lecount politely retired, through 
 the open foliling-doors, by this latter means 
 of exit, so as not to disturb the visitor by 
 passing in front of her. Magdalen waiteii 
 until siie heard the door open and close again 
 behind her, and then resolved to make the 
 most of the opportunity which left her alone 
 with Noel Vanstone. The utter hopelessness 
 of rousing a generous impulse in that base 
 nature had now lieen j)roved by her own 
 experience. The last chance left was to treat 
 him like the cravt n creature he was, and to 
 influence him thi'ough his fears. 
 
 Before she could speak Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 himself broke the silence. Cunningly as he 
 strove to hide it, he was half angry, half 
 alarmed at his housekeeper's desertion of him. 
 He looked doubtingly at his visitor; he showed 
 a nervous anxiety to conciliate her until Mrs. 
 Lecount's return. 
 
 " Pray remember, ma'am, I never denied 
 that tliis case was a hard one," he began. 
 " You said just now you had no wish to offend 
 me, and I 'm sure I don,t want to offend you. 
 May I offer you some strawlx'rries V Would 
 you like to look at my father's bargains ? I 
 assure you, ma'am I am naturally a gallant 
 man ; and I feel for botii tlirse sisters — espe- 
 cially the younger one. Touch me on the 
 subject of the tender passion and you touch 
 me on a weak place. Nothing would please 
 me more than to hear that ]\Iiss Vanstone's 
 lover — (I 'm sure I always call her Miss Van- 
 stone, and so does Lecount) — I say, ma'am, 
 nothing would please me more than to hear 
 that ^liss Vanstone'? lover had come back 
 and married her. If a loan of money would 
 be likely to bring him liack, and if the se- 
 curity ofli'ered was good, and if my lawyer 
 thought me justified — " 
 
 " Stop, Mv. Vanstone," said Magdalen. 
 " You are entirely mistaken in your estimate 
 of the person you have to deal with. You 
 are seriously wrong in supposing that the 
 marriage of the younger sister — if she could 
 be married in a week's time — would make 
 any difl"erence in the convictions which in- 
 duced her to write to your father and to you. 
 I don't deny that she may act from a mixture 
 of motives. I don't deny that she clings to 
 the hope of hastening her marriage, and to 
 the hone of rescuing her sister from a life of 
 d«penueuce. But if both those objects were 
 
 accomplished by other means, nothinjr would 
 induce her to leave you in posset^sion of the 
 inheritance which her father meant his chil- 
 dren to have. 1 know her, Mr. Vanstone ! 
 She is a nameless, homeless, friendless wretch. 
 The law which takes care of you, the law 
 which takes care of all legitimate children, 
 casts her like carrion to the winds. It is your 
 law — not hers. She only knows it as the 
 instrument of a vile oppression, an insuffer- 
 able wrong. The sense of that wrong haimts 
 her like a possession of the devil. The reso- 
 lution to right that wrong burns in her like 
 tire. If that miserable girl was married and 
 rich with millions to-morrow, do you think 
 she would move an inch from her purpose? 
 I tell you she would resist, to the last breath in 
 her body, the vile injustice which has struck 
 at the lieljiless children through the calamity 
 of their father's death ! I tell yon she would 
 shrink from no means which a desperate 
 woman can employ to force that closed hand 
 of yours open, or die in the attempt !" 
 
 She stopped abrujjtly. Once more her in- 
 domitable earnestness had betrayed her. Once 
 more the natural ability of that perverted na- 
 ture had risen su])erior to the deception which 
 it had stooped to practk-e. The sciicme of the 
 moment vanished I'roui her' mind's view, and 
 the resolution of her life burst its way out- 
 ward in her own words, in her own tones, 
 pouring hotly anil more hotly from her heart. 
 She saw the abject manikin before her cower- 
 ing silent in his chair. Had his fears left him 
 sense enough to perceive the change in her 
 voice? No: his face spoke the truth — his 
 fears had bewildered him. This time the 
 chance of the moment had befriended her. 
 The door behind her chair had not opened 
 asrain yet. " No ears but his have heard 
 me," she thought, with a sense of unutterable 
 relief. "I have escaped Mrs. Lecount." 
 
 She had done nothing of the kind. Mrs. 
 Lecount had never left the room. 
 
 After opening the door and closing it again, 
 without going out, the housekeeper had noise- 
 lessly knelt down behind Magdalen's chair. 
 Steadying herself against the post of the fold- 
 ing-door, she took a pair of .scissors from her 
 pocket, waited until Noel Vanstone (from 
 whose view she was entiraly hidden) had 
 attracted j\Iagdalen's attention by sijcaking 
 to her, and then bent forward with the scis- 
 sors readv in her hand. The skirt of the false 
 Miss Garth's gown — the brown alpaca dress 
 with the white spots on it — touched the floor 
 ^ within the housekeeper's reach. Mrs. Le- 
 ■ count lifted the outer of the two flounces 
 ' which ran arounil the bottom of the dress, one 
 j over the other, softly cut away a little irregu- 
 ; lar fragment of this stufl^ from the inner 
 ! flounce, and neatly smoothed the outer one 
 I over it again, so as to hide the gap. By the 
 I time she had put the scissors back in her 
 ! pocket and had risen to her feet (sheltering 
 herself behind tba post of the folding-door) 
 
 # 
 
119 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Magdalen had spoken her last words. Mrs. 
 Lecount quietl}' repeated the ceremony of 
 opening and shutting the back parlor door, 
 and glided back to her place. 
 
 " What has happened, Sir, in my absence ?" 
 she inquired, addressing her master with a 
 look of alarm. " You are pale ; you are agi- 
 tated! Ob, Miss Garth, have you forgotten 
 the caution I gave you in the other room V" 
 
 " Miss Garth has forgotten everything," 
 cried Mr. Nc.-l Vanstone, recovering his lost 
 composure on the reappearance of Mrs. Le- 
 count. "Miss Garth has threatened me in 
 the most outrageous manner. I ibrbid you 
 to pity either ot' those two girls anj' more, 
 Lecount — espi'cially the younger one. She is 
 the ^nost desperate wretch 1 ever heard of! 
 If she can't get my money by f;iir means, she 
 threatens to have it by foul. jMiss Garth has 
 told me that to my face. To my face ! ' he 
 repeated, folding his arms and looking mor- 
 tally insulted. 
 
 '• Compose yourself, Sir," said Mrs. Le- 
 count ; " pray compose yourself, and leave me 
 to speak to Aliss Garth. I i-egnt to hear, 
 ma'am, that you have forgotten what I said 
 to you in the next room. You have cigitated 
 Mr. Noel ; you have compromised the inter- 
 ests you came here to plead ; and you have 
 only repeated what we knew before. The 
 language }ou have allowed you)'self to use 
 in my absence is the same language which 
 your pupil was foolisli enougii to employ when 
 ehe wrote for the second time to my late 
 master. How can a lady of your years and 
 experience seriously repeat such nonsense ? 
 This girl boasts and threatens. She will do 
 this ; she will do that. You have her con- 
 fidence, ma'am. Tell me, if you please, in 
 plain words, what can she do ?" 
 
 Sharply as the taunt was pointed, it glanced 
 off harmless. Mrs. Lecount had planted her 
 sting once too often. Magdalen rose, in com- 
 plete possession of her assumed character, and 
 composedly terminated the interview. Igno- 
 rant as she was of what had happened behind 
 her chair, she saw a change in Mrs. Lecount's 
 look and manner which warned her to run no 
 more rislcs, and to trust herself no longer in 
 the house. 
 
 " I am not in my pupil's confidence," she 
 said. " Her own acts will answer your ques- 
 tion when the time comes. I can only tell you, 
 from my own knowledge of her, that she 
 is no boaster. What she wrote to Mr. Michael 
 Vanstone was what she was prepared to do — 
 what, I have reason to think, she was actually 
 on the point of doing, when her plans were 
 overthrown by his death. Mi-. Mi(;hael Van- 
 stone's son has only to persist in following his 
 father's course to find before long that I am 
 not mistaken in my pupil, and that I have not 
 come here to intimidate him by empty, threats. 
 My errand is done. I leave Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone with two alternatives to choose from. I 
 leave him to share Mr. Andrew Vanstone's 
 
 fortune with Mr. Andrew Vanstone's daugh- 
 ters — or, to persist in his present refusal and 
 face the conse(juenees." She bowed, and 
 walked to the door. 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone started to his feet, with 
 anger and alarm strugijling which should ex- 
 press itself first in his blank white face. Before 
 he could open his lips Mrs. Lecount's plump 
 hands descended on his shoulders, ])ut him 
 softly back in his chair, and restored the plate 
 of strawberries to its former position on his 
 lap. 
 
 " Refresh yourself, Mr. Noel, with a few 
 more strawberries," she said, " and leave Miss 
 Garth to me." 
 
 Sh(; followed Magdalen into the passage, 
 and closed the door of the room after her. 
 
 " Are you residing in London, ma'am ?" 
 asked Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 " No,' replied Magdalen. " I reside in the 
 country." 
 
 " If I want to write to you, where can I ad- 
 dress my letter ?" 
 
 " To the post-office, Birmingham," said Mag" 
 dalen, mentioning the place which she had last 
 left, and at which all letters were still address- 
 ed to her. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount repeated the direction to fix 
 it in her memory, advanced two steps in the 
 passage, and quietly laid her right hand on 
 Magdalen's arm. 
 
 " A word of advice, ma'am," she said ; "one 
 word at parting. You are a bold woman and 
 a clever woman. Don't be too bold ; don't be 
 too clever. You are risking more than you 
 tliink for." She suddenly raised herself on 
 tip-toe and whispered the next words in Mag- 
 dalen's ear. " / hold you in the hollow of my 
 hand !" said Mrs. Lecount, with a fierce, hiss- 
 ing emphasis on every syllable. Her left hand 
 clenched itself stealthily as she spoke. It was 
 the hand in which she had concealed the frag- 
 ment of stuff from Magdalen's gowp — the 
 hand which held it fast at that moment. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Magdalen, 
 pushing her back. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount glided away politely to open 
 the house-door. 
 
 " I mean nothing now," she said ; " wait a 
 little, and time may show. One last question, 
 ma'am, before I bid you good-by. When your 
 pupil was a little innocent child, did she ever 
 amuse herself by building a house of cards?" 
 
 Magdalen impatiently answered by a ges- 
 ture in the affirmative. 
 
 " Did you ever see her build up the house 
 higher and higher," proceeded Mrs. Lecount, 
 " till it was quite a pagoda of cards? Did you 
 ever see her open her little child's eyes wide 
 and look at it, and feel so proud of what she 
 had done already that she wanted to do more ? 
 Did you ever see her steady her pretty little 
 hand, and hold her innocent breath, and put 
 one other card on the top — and lay the whole 
 house, the instant afterward, a heap of ruins 
 on the table ? Ah, you have seen that ! Give 
 
 ^?^;^ 
 
 laite 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 Ill 
 
 her, if you please, a friendly message from me. 
 I venture to say she has built the house high 
 enough already, and I recommend her to be 
 careful before she puts on that other card." 
 
 " She shall have your message," said Mag- 
 dalen, with Miss Garth's bluntness and Miss 
 (Earth's emphatic nod of the head. " But I 
 doubt her minding it. Her hand is rather 
 steadier than you suppose ; and I think she 
 will put on the other card." 
 
 " And bring the house down," said Mrs. 
 Lecount. 
 
 " And build it up again," rejoined Magda- 
 len. " I wish you good-morning." 
 
 " Good-morning," said INIrs. Lecount, open- 
 ing the door. " One last word, Mis.<? Garth. 
 Do tliink of what I said in the back room ! 
 Do trv the Golden Ointment for that sad af- 
 fliction in your eyes !" 
 
 As ]\Iagdalen crossed the threshold of the 
 door she was met by the postman ascending 
 the house-stejjs with a letter picked out from 
 the bundle in his hand. " Noel Vanstone, 
 Esquire ?" she heard the man say interroga- 
 tively, as she made hor way down the front 
 garden to the street. 
 
 She passed through the garden-gate little 
 thinking from what new dilHoulty and new 
 dancer Iter timely departure had saved her. 
 The letter wliich the postman had just deliv- 
 ered into the housekeeper's hands was no other 
 than the anonymous letter addressed to Noel 
 Vanslone by Captain Wragge. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount returned to the parlor with 
 the fragment of Magdalen's dress in one hand, 
 and with Captain Wragge's letter in the other. 
 
 " Have you got rid of her V" asked Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone. " Have you shut the door at 
 last on Miss Garth ?" 
 
 "Don't call ker Miss Garth, Sir," said Mrs. 
 Lecount. smiling contemptuously. " She is as 
 much Miss (iarth as you are. AVe have been 
 favored by the performance of a clever mas- 
 querade ; and if we had taken the disguise off 
 our vi.sitor I think we should have found under 
 it Mi.ss Vanstone herself. Here is a letter 
 for you, Sir, which the postman has just left." 
 
 She put tlia letter on the table, within her 
 master's rcAch. Mr. Noel Vanstone's amaze- 
 ment at the discovery just communicated to 
 him kept his whole attention concentrated on 
 the hou>ekeeper's face. He never so much as 
 looked at the letter when she placed it before 
 him. 
 
 " Take my word for it. Sir," proceeded Mrs. 
 Lecount, composedly taking a chair. " When 
 our visitor gets home she will put her gray hair 
 away in a box, and will cure that sad aflliction 
 in her eyes with warm wafer and a sponge. 
 If she had painted the marks on her face as 
 well as she painted the infianimation in her 
 
 eyes, the hght would have shown me nothing, 
 and I should certainly have been deceived. 
 But I saw the marks ; I saw a young woman's 
 skin under that dirty complexion of hers ; I 
 heard, in this room, a true voice in a passion, 
 as well as a false voice talking with an accent — 
 and I don't believe in one morsel of that lady's 
 personal .ippcarance, from top to toe. The 
 girl herself, in my opinion, ]Mr. Noel — and a 
 bold girl too." 
 
 " Why didn't you lock the door and send for 
 the pohce V" asked Mr. Noel. " My father 
 would have sent for the police. You know, 
 as well as I do, Lecount, my father would have 
 sent for tiie police." 
 
 "Pardon me. Sir," said Mrs. Lecount; "I 
 think your father would have waited until he 
 had got t^nmething more for the police to do 
 than we have got for them yet. We shall sec 
 this lady again. Sir. Perha])S she will come 
 here next time with her own face and her own 
 voice. I am curious to see what her own face 
 is like; I am curious to know whether what I 
 have heard of her voice in a pa.ssion is enough 
 to make me recognize her voice when she is 
 calm. I possess a little memorial of her visit 
 of which she is not aware, and she will not 
 escape mr' so easily as she thinks. If it turns 
 out a usefid memorial, you shall know what it 
 is. If not, I will abstain from troulning you 
 on so trifling a subject. Allow me to remind 
 you. Sir, of the letter under your hand. You 
 have not looked at it yet." 
 
 Air. Noel Vanstone opened the letter. He 
 started as his eye fell on the first lines — hesi- 
 tated — nnd tlien hurriedly reail it through. 
 The paper dropped from his hand, and he sank 
 back in his chair. Airs. Lecount sprang to her 
 feet with the alacrity of a young woman and 
 picked up the letter. 
 
 " What has happened. Sir ?" she asked. 
 Her face altered as she put the question, and 
 her large black eyes hardened fiercely in gen- 
 uine astonishment and alarm. 
 
 " Send for the police I ' exclaimed her mas- 
 ter. "Lecount, I insist on being protected. 
 Send for the police !" 
 
 "May I read the letter. Sir?" 
 
 He feebly waved his hand. i\Irs. Lecount 
 read the letter attentively, and put it aside on 
 the table without a word when she had done. 
 
 "Have you nothing to say to me'/" asked 
 M]-. Noel Vanstone. staring at his housekeeper 
 in blank dismay. " Lecount, I 'm to he rolibed ! 
 The scoundrel who wrote that letter knows all 
 about it, and won't tell me anything unless I 
 pav him. I 'm to he robbed I Here 's property 
 on this table worth thou.sands of pounds — prop- 
 erty that can never be replaced — property that 
 all the crowned heads in Europe could not 
 produce if they tried. Lock me in, Lecount, 
 and send for the police I" 
 
 Instead of sending for the police Mrs. Le- 
 count took a large green-paper fan from the 
 chiifiney-piece and seated herself opposite her 
 mast«r. 
 
112 
 
 NO NAJ^IE. 
 
 "You are apitated, Mr. Noel," she said; 
 " you are heated. Let me cool J'ou." 
 
 With her face as hard as ever — with less ten- 
 deruess of look and manner than most women 
 would have shown if they had been rescuing a 
 halfdi'cwned fly from a milk-jufj — she silently 
 and patiently fanned him for five minutes or 
 more. No practiced eye observing the peculiar 
 bluish pallor of his complexion, and the marked 
 difficulty Avith which he drew his breath, could 
 have failed to perceive that the great organ of 
 life wa^ in this man, wliat the housekeeper had 
 stated it to be, too weak for the function which 
 it was called on to perform. The heart labored 
 over its work as if it had been the heart of a 
 worn-out old man. 
 
 " Are you relieved. Sir ?" asked Mrs. Le- 
 count. " Can you think a little ? Can you 
 exercise your better judgment ?" 
 
 She rose, and put her liand over his heart 
 with as much mechanical attention and as 
 little genuine interest as if she had been feel- 
 ing the plates at dinner to ascertain if they 
 were properly warmed. " Yes," she went on, 
 seating herself again, and resuming the ex- 
 ercise of the fan; "you are getting better 
 already, Mr. Noel. Don't ask me about this 
 anonymous letter until you have thought for 
 yourself, and have given your own opinion 
 first." She went on with the fanning, and 
 looked him hard in the face all the time. 
 '' Think," she said ; " think, Sir, without 
 troubling yourself to expiess your thoughts. 
 Trust to my intimate symjiathy with you to 
 read them. Yes, Mr. Noel, this letter is a 
 paltry attempt to frighten you. What does 
 it say ? It says you are the object of a con- 
 spiracy, directed by Miss Vanstone. We know 
 that already — the lady of the inflamed eyes 
 has told us. We snap our fingers at the con- 
 spiracy. What does the letter say next ? It 
 says the writer has valuable information to 
 give you, if you will pay for it. AVhat did 
 you call this person yourself just now. Sir V" 
 
 " I called him a scoundrel," said Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone, recovering his self-importance, and 
 raising himself gradually in liis chair. 
 
 " I agree with you in that. Sir, as I agree 
 in everything else," proceeded Mrs. Lecount. 
 " He is a scoundrel who really has this infor- 
 matioii, and who means what he says; or he 
 is a mouth-piece of ISliss Vanstone's, and she 
 has caused this letCfcr to be written I'ur the 
 purpose of puzzling us by another form of 
 disguise. Whether the letter is true, or 
 whether the letter is false — am I not reading 
 your own wiser thoughts now, Mr. Noel? — 
 you know better than to put your enemies on 
 their guard by employing the police in this 
 matter too soon. I quite agree with you — no 
 police just yet. You will allow this anony- 
 mous man or anonymous woman to suppose 
 you are easily frightened ; you will lay a trap 
 for the information in return for the trap laid 
 for your money; you will answer the letter, 
 and see what comes of the answer ; and you 
 
 will only pay the expense of employing the 
 police when you know the expense is neces- 
 sary. I agree with you again — no expense, if 
 we can help it. In every particular, Mr. 
 Noel, my mind and your mind in this matter 
 are one." 
 
 "It strikes you in that light, Lecount — does 
 it?" said Mr. Noel Vanstone. "I think so 
 myself, I certainly think so. I won't pay the 
 police a farthing, if I can possibly help it." 
 He took up the letter again, and became fret- 
 full)' perplexed over a second reading of it. 
 " But the man wants money ! " he broke out, 
 impatiently. " You seem to forget, Lecount, 
 that the man wants money." 
 
 " Money which you offer him. Sir," rejoined 
 Mrs. Lecount; "but — as your thoughts have 
 already anticipated — money Avhich you don't 
 give him. No ! no ! you say to this man, 
 ' Hold out your hand. Sir; ' and when he has 
 held it, you give him a smack for his pains, 
 and put your own hand back in your pocket. 
 I am so glad to see you laughing, Mr. Noel ; 
 so glad to see you getting back your good 
 spirits. We will answer the letter by adver- 
 tisement, as the writer directs — advertisement 
 is so cheap ! Your poor hand is trembling a 
 little — shall I hold the pen for you V I am 
 not fit to do more, but I can always promise to 
 hold the pen." 
 
 Without waiting for his reply she went into 
 the back parlor and returned with pen, ink, 
 and paper. Arranging a blotting-book on her 
 knees, and looking a model of cheerful submis- 
 sion, she placed herself once more in front of 
 her master's chair. 
 
 " Shall I write from your dictation. Sir?" she 
 inquired. " Or shall I make a little sketch, 
 and will you correct it afterward ? I will 
 make a little sketch. Let me see the letter. 
 We are to advertise in the Times, and we are 
 to address 'An Unknown Friend.' What 
 shall I say, Mr. Noel ? Stay ; I will write it, 
 and then you can see for yourself: 'An Un- 
 known Friend is requested to mention (by 
 advertisement) an address at which a letter 
 can reach him. The receipt of the informa- 
 tion which he offers will be acknowledged by 
 a reward of — ' What sum of money do you 
 wish me to set down. Sir ? " 
 
 " Set down nothing," said Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone, with a sudden outbreak of impatience. 
 " Money-matters are my business — I say mon- 
 ey-matters are 7ny business, Lecount. Leave 
 it to me." 
 
 " Certainly, Sir," replied Mrs. Lecount, 
 handing her master the blotting-book. " You 
 will not forget to be liberal in offering money 
 when you know beforehand you don't mean to 
 part with it ? " 
 
 ' Don't dictate, Lecount ! I won't submit to 
 dictation ! " said Mr. Noel Vanstone, assertr 
 ing his own independence more and more im- 
 patiently. " I mean to conduct this business 
 for myself. I am master, Lecount!" 
 
 " You are master. Sir ! " 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 lis 
 
 " My fivther was master before me. And I 
 am my father's son. I tell yon, Lecount, I am 
 my father's son ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lecount bowed submissively. 
 
 " T mean to set down any sum of money I 
 think right," pursued Mr. Noel Vanstonc, 
 noddin"-"his little flaxen head vehemently. 
 *' I mean to send this advertisement myself 
 The servant shall take it to the stationer's to 
 be put into the Times. When I ring the bell 
 twice send the servant. You understand, Le- 
 count ? Send the servant." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount bowed again, and walked 
 slowly to the door. She knew to a nicety 
 when to lead her master, and when to let him 
 go alone. Experience had taught her to gov- 
 ern him in all essential points by giving way 
 to him afterward on all points of minor detail. 
 It was a characteristic of his weak nature — as 
 it is of all weak natures — to assert itself obsti- 
 nately on trifles. The filling in of the blank 
 in the advertisement was the trifle in this 
 ease ; and Mrs. Lecount quieted her master's 
 suspicions that she was leading him by in- 
 stantly conceding it. " My mule has kicked," 
 she thought to herself, in her own language, 
 as she opened the door. " I can do no more 
 with him to-day." 
 
 "Lecount!" cried her master, as she step- 
 ped into the passage ; " come back." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount came back. 
 
 " You 're not off'ended with me, are you ? " 
 asked Mr. Noel Yanstone, uneasily. 
 
 " Certainly not. Sir," replied Mrs. Lecount. 
 "As you said just now, you are master." 
 
 •' Good creature ! Give me your hand." 
 lie kissed her hand, and smiled in high ap- 
 proval of his own aflt'ctionate proceeding. 
 " Lecount, you are a worthy creature ! " 
 
 " Thank you, Sir," said Mrs. Lecount. She 
 courtcsied and went out. " If he had any 
 brains in that monkey-head of his," she said 
 to herself in the passage, " what a rascal he 
 would be ! " 
 
 Left by himself, Mr. Noel Vanstone became 
 absorbed in anxious reflection over the blank 
 space in the advertisement. Mrs. Lecount's 
 apparently superfluous hint to him, to be lib- 
 eral in offering money when he knew he had 
 no intention of parting with it, had been 
 founded on an intimate knowledge of his char- 
 acter. He had inherited his father's sordid 
 love of money witliout inheriting his father's 
 hard-headed capacity for seeing the uses to 
 which money can be put. His one idea in 
 connection with his wealth was the idea of 
 keeping it. He was such an inborn miser 
 that the bare prospect of being liberal, in 
 theory only, daunted him. lie took up the 
 pen, laid it down again, and read the anony- 
 mous letter for the third time, shaking his 
 head over it suspiciously. " If I offer this 
 man a large sum of money,"' he thought, on a 
 sudden, " how do I know he may not find a 
 means of making me actually pay it ? Wo- 
 men are always in a hurry. Lecount is al- 
 15 
 
 ways in a hurry. I have got the afternooa 
 before me — I '11 take'the afternoon to consider 
 it." 
 
 He fretfully put away the blotting-book and 
 the sketch of the advertisement on the chair 
 which Mrs. Lecount had just left. As he re- 
 turned to his own seat he shook his little head 
 solemnly, and arranged his white dressing- 
 gown over his knees, with the air of a man 
 absorbed in anxious thought. Minute after 
 minute passed away; the quarters and the 
 half hours succeeded each other on the dial 
 of ]Mrs. Lecount's watch, and still Mr. Noel 
 Yanstone remained lost in doubt — still no 
 summons for the servant disturbed the tran- 
 quillity of the parlor bell. 
 
 Meanwhile, after parting with Mrs. Le- 
 count, Magdalen had cautiously abstained 
 from crossing the road to her lodgings, and 
 had only ventured to return after making a 
 circuit in the neighborhood. When she found 
 herself once more in Yauxhall Walk, the first 
 object which attracted her attention was a 
 cab drawn up before the door of the lodgings. 
 A few steps more in advance showed her the 
 landlady's daughter, standing at the cab-door, 
 engaged in a dispute with the driver on the 
 subject of his fare. Noticing that the girl's 
 back was turned toward her, Magdalen in- 
 stantly profited by that circumstance, and 
 slipped unobserved into the house. 
 
 She glided along the passage, ascended the 
 stairs, and found herself on the first landing, 
 face to face with her travelling companion ! 
 There stood Mrs. Wragge, with a pile of 
 small parcels hugged up in her arms, anx- 
 iously waiting the iSsue of the dispute with 
 the cabman in the street. To return was 
 impossible — the sound of the angry voices 
 below was advancing into the passage. To 
 hesitate was worse than useless. But one 
 choice was left — the choice of going on — and 
 Magdalen desperately took it. She pushed 
 by Mrs. Wragge without a word ; ran into 
 her own room, tore off" her cloak, bonnet, and 
 wig, and threw them down out of sight, in 
 the blank space between the sofa- bedstead 
 and the wall. 
 
 For the first few moments astonishment 
 bereft Mrs. Wragge of the power of speech, 
 and rooted her to the spot where she stood. 
 Two out of the collection of parcels in her 
 arms fell from them on the stairs. The sight 
 of that catastrophe roused her. " Thieves !" 
 cried Mrs. Wragge, suddenly struck by an 
 idea — " thieves!" 
 
 ]Mag(lalen heard her through th» room-door^ 
 which she had not had time to close com- 
 pletely. " Is that jou, Mrs. Wragge ?" she 
 called out in her own voice. " What is the 
 matter ?" She snatched up a towel while she 
 spoke, dipped it in water, and passed it rap- 
 idly over the lower part of her face. At 
 the sound of the familiar voice Mrs. Wragge 
 turned round — dropped a third parcel — and,. 
 
114 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 forgetting it in her astonishment, ascended 
 the second flight of stairs. Magdalen stepped 
 out on the first-floor landing, with the towel 
 held over her forehead as if she was suffering 
 from headache. Her false eyebrows required 
 time for their removal, and a headache, as- 
 sumed for the occasion, suggested the most 
 convenient pretext she could devise for hiding 
 them as they were hidden now. 
 
 " What are you disturbing the house for ?" 
 she asked. " Pray be quiet. I am half-blind 
 with the headache." 
 
 " Anything wrong, ma'am ?" inquired the 
 landlady from the passage. 
 
 " Nothing whatever," replied Magdalen. 
 " My friend is timid, and the dispute with the 
 cabman has frightened her. Pay the man 
 what he wants, and let him go." 
 
 " Where is she ?" asked Mrs. WragL'e, in a 
 tremulous whisper. " Where 's the woman 
 who scuttled by me into your i-oom '?' 
 
 " Pooh !" said Magdalen. " No woman scut- 
 tled by you, as you call it. Look in and see 
 for yourself." 
 
 She threw open the door. Mrs. Wragge 
 walked into the room — looked all over it — 
 saw nobody, and indicated her astonishment 
 at the result by dropping a fourth parcel, and 
 trembling helplessly from head to foot. 
 
 " I saw her go in here," said Mrs. Wragge, 
 in awe-struck accents. " A woman in a gray 
 cloak and a poke bonnet. A rude woman. 
 She scuttled by me on the stairs — she did. 
 Here 's the room, and no woman in it. Give 
 us a Prayer-Book !" cried Mrs. Wragge, turn- 
 ing deadly pale, and letting her whole remain- 
 ing collection of parcels, tall about her in a 
 little cascade of commodities. " I want to 
 read something Good. I want to think of 
 my latter end. I 've seen a Ghost !" 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Magdalen. " You 're 
 dreaming ; the shopping has been too much for 
 you. Go into your own room, and take your 
 bonnet off." " 
 
 " I 've heard tell of ghosts in nightgowns, 
 ghosts in sheets, and ghosts in chains," pro- 
 ceeded Mrs. Wragge, standing petrified in her 
 own magic circle of linen-drapers' parcels. 
 " Here 's a worse ghost than any of 'em — a 
 
 fhost in a gray cloak and a poke bonnet. I 
 now what it is," continued Mrs. Wragge, 
 melting into penitent tears. "It 's a judg- 
 ment on me for being so happy away from 
 the captain. It 's a judgment on me for hav- 
 ing been down at heel in half the shops in 
 London, first with one shoe and then with the 
 other, all the time I 've been out. I 'm a 
 sinful creature. Don't let go of me — what- 
 ever you do, my dear, don't let go of me !" 
 She caught Magdalen fast by the arm, and 
 fell into another trembling fit at the bare idea 
 of being left by herself. 
 
 The one remaining chance in such an emer- 
 gency as this was to submit to circumstances. 
 Magdalen took Mrs. Wragge to a chair, having 
 first placed it in such a position as might ena- 
 
 ble her to turn her back on her travelling- 
 companion while she removed the false eye- 
 brows by the help of a little water. " Wait a 
 minute there," she said, " and try if you can 
 compose yourself while I bathe my head." 
 
 " Compose myself?" repeated Mrs. Wragge. 
 " How am I to compose myself when my head 
 feels off my shoulders ? The worst Buzzing I 
 ever had with the Cookery-book was nothing 
 to the Buzzing I 've got now with the Ghost, 
 Here's a miserable end to a holiday ! You may 
 take me back again, my dear, whenever you 
 like — I 've had enough of it already !" 
 
 Having at last succeeded in removing the 
 eyebrows, Magdalen was free to combat the 
 unfortunate impression produced on her com- 
 panion's mind by every weapon of persuasion 
 which her ingenuity could employ. 
 
 The attempt prove d useless. Mrs. Wragge 
 persisted — on evidence which, it may be re- 
 marked in parenthesis, would have satisfied 
 many wiser ghost-seers than herself — in be- 
 lieving thatslie had been supernaturally favor- 
 ed by a visitor from the world of spirits. All 
 that Magdalen could do was to ascertain by 
 cautious investigation that Mrs. Wragge had 
 not been quick enough to identify the supposed 
 ghost with the chai'acter of the old North- 
 country lady in the Entertainment. Having 
 satisfied herself on this point, she had no re- 
 source but to leave the rest to the natural 
 incapability of retaining impi'essions — unless 
 those impressions were perpetually renewed — ■ 
 which was one of the characteristic infirmities 
 of her companion's weak mind. After fortify- 
 ing Mrs. Wragge by reiterated assurances 
 that one appearance (according to all the laws 
 and regulations of ghosts) meant nothing un- 
 less it was immediately followed by two more 
 — after patiently lea<ling back her attention 
 to the parcels dropped on thfe floor and on the 
 stairs, and afler promising to keep the door of 
 communication ajar between the two rooms, if 
 Mrs. Wragge would engage on her side to re- 
 tire to her own chamber, and to say no more 
 on the terrible subject of the ghost, Magdalen 
 at last secured the ^irivilege of reflecting un- 
 interruptedly on the events of that memorable 
 day. 
 
 Two serious consequences had followed her 
 first step forward. Mrs. Lecount had enti-ap- 
 ped her into speaking in her own voice, and 
 accident had confronted her with Mrs. Wragye 
 in disguise. 
 
 What advantage had she gained to set 
 against these disasters ? The advantage of 
 knowing more of Noel Vanstone and of Mrs. 
 Lecount than .she might have discovered in 
 months, if she had trusted to inquiries made 
 for her by others. One uncertainty which 
 had hitherto per|)le,xed her was set at rest al- 
 ready. The scheme she had privately devised 
 against Michael Vanstone — which Captain 
 Wraggc's sharp insight had partially penetrat- 
 ed when she first warned him that their part- 
 nership must be dissolved — was a scheme 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 116 
 
 •which she could now plainly see must be aban- 
 doned as hopeless in the case of Michael Van- 
 stone's son. The father's habits of speculation 
 had been the pivot on which the whole ma- 
 chinery of her meditated conspiracy had been 
 constructed to turn. No suth vantajrc-ground 
 was discoverable in the doubly sordid charac- 
 tr^r of the son. Mr. Noel Vanstone was 
 invulnerable on the very point which had 
 presented itself in his father as open to attack. 
 
 Havin": reached this conclusion, how was 
 she to shape her future course ? AVhat new 
 means could she discover which would lead her 
 Bccrctly to her end in defiance of Mrs. Le- 
 count's malicious vigilance and Noel Vanstone's 
 miserly distrust? 
 
 She was seated before the looking-glass, me- 
 chanically combing out her hair, while that 
 all-important consideration occupied her mind. 
 The agitation of the moment had raised a 
 feverish color in her cheeks, and had bright- 
 ened tiie light in her large gray eyes. She 
 was conscious of looking her best; conscious 
 how her beauty gained by contrast after the 
 removal of the disguise. Her lovely light- 
 brown hair looked thicker and soft,(>r than 
 ever, now that it had escaped from its impris- 
 oiunent under the gray wig. She twisted it 
 this way and that, with quick, dextrous fingers; 
 she laid it in ma.=;ses on her slioulders ; she 
 threw it back from them in a heap, and turned 
 sideways to see how it fell — to sec her back 
 and shoulders freed from the artificial deformi- 
 ties of the padded cloak. After a moment she 
 faced the looking-glas,s once more, j)lunged 
 both hands deep in her hair, and, resting lier 
 elbows on the t.able, looked clotH.T and closer 
 at the refiection of hers»'lf, until her breath 
 began to dim the glass. " I can twist any man 
 alive round my finger," she thought, with a 
 smile of superb triumph, " as long as 1 keep 
 my looks! If that contemptible wretch saw 
 me now — " She shrank irom following the 
 thought to its end, with a sudden horror of 
 herself; she drew back trom the glass, shud- 
 dering, and put her hands over her lace. "Oh, 
 Frank !" she murmured, " but lor you, what a 
 wretch I might be !" Her eager fingers snatch- 
 ed the little white silk bag from its hiding-place 
 in her bosom ; her lips devoured it with silent 
 kisses. " My darling 1 my angel 1 Oh, Frank, 
 how 1 love you !" The tears gushed into her 
 eyes. She passionately dried them, restored 
 the bag to its place, and turned her back on 
 the looking-glass. *' No more of myself," she 
 thought; " no more of my mad, miserable self 
 for to-day !" 
 
 Shrinking from all further contemplation of 
 her next step in advance — shrinking from the 
 fast -darkening future, with which Noel V^an- 
 Btonc was now assoiialed in her inmost 
 thoughts — she looked impatiently about the 
 room for some homely occupation which might 
 take her out of herself. The disguise which 
 she had flung down between the wall and the 
 bed recurred to her memory. It was impos- 
 
 sible to leave it there. Mrs. Wragge (now 
 occupied in sorting her parcels) might weary 
 of her employment, might come in again at a 
 moment's notice, might pass near the bed and 
 see the gray cloak. What was to be done ? 
 
 Her first thought was to put the disguise 
 back in her trunk. But, after what had hap- 
 pened, there was danger in trusting it so near 
 to herself while she and Mrs. Wragge wera 
 together under the same roof. She resolved 
 to be rid of it that evening, and boldly de- 
 termined on sending it back to Birmingham. 
 Her bonnet-box fitted into her trunk. She 
 took the box out, thrust in the wig and cloak, 
 and remorselessly flattened down the bonnet 
 at the top. The gown (which she had not 
 yet taken ofl) was her own ; Mrs. AVragge 
 had been accustomed to see her in it — there 
 was no need to send the gown back. Before 
 closing the box she hastily traced these lines 
 on a sheet of paper : " I took the inclosed 
 things away by mistake. Please keep them 
 lor me, with the rest of my luggage in your 
 possession, until you hear from me again." 
 Putting the paper on the top of the bonnet, 
 she directed the box to Captain Wragge, 
 at Birmingham, took it down stairs imme- 
 diately, and sent the landlady's daughter 
 away with it to the nearest Receiving House. 
 "That difficulty is disposed of," she thought, as 
 she went back to her own room again. 
 
 Mrs. Wragge was still occupied in sorting 
 her parcels on her narrow little bed. She 
 turned round with a faint scream when Mag- 
 dalen looked in at her. " I thought it was the 
 ghost again," said Mrs. Wragge. " I 'm try- 
 ing to take warning, my dear, by what 's haj)- 
 pened to me. I 'vc put all my parcels straight, 
 just as the captain would like to see 'em. I 'm 
 up at heel with both shoes. If I close my eyes 
 to-night — which I don't think I shall — I '11 go 
 to sleep as straight as my legs will let me. 
 And I '11 never have another holiday as long 
 as I live. I hope I shall be forgiven," said 
 Mrs. Wragge, mournfully shaking her head. 
 " I humbly hope 1 shall be forgiven." 
 
 "Forgiven!' repeated Magdalen. "If other 
 women wanted as little forgiving as you do — 
 Well ! well ! Sujjpose you open some of those 
 parcels. Come ! 1 want to see what you have 
 been buying to-day." 
 
 Mrs. Wragge hesitated, sighed penitently, 
 considered a little, stretched out her hand tim- 
 idly toward one of the parcels, thought of the 
 supernatural warning, and shrank back from 
 her own purchases with a desperate exertion 
 of self"-control. 
 
 " Open this one," said Magdalen, to en- 
 courage her: " Wiiat is it?" 
 
 ^Irs. Wragge's faded blue eyes began to 
 brighten dimly in .<fpite of her remorse, but she 
 self-denyingly shook her head. The master- 
 passion of 8hop{)ing might claim his own 
 again ; but the ghost was not laid yet. 
 
 " Did you get it a bargain !" asked Mag- 
 dalen, coufidcntially. 
 
116 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 " Dirt cheap," cried poor Mrs. Wragge, 
 falling headlong into the snare, and darting 
 at the parcel as eagerly as if nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 Magdalen kept her gossiping over her pur- 
 chases for an hour or more, and then wisely 
 determined to distract her attention from all 
 ghostly recollections in another way by taking 
 her out for a walk. 
 
 As they left the lodgings the door of Noel 
 Vanstone's house opened, and the woman- 
 servant appeared, bent on another errand. 
 She was apparently charged with a letter 
 
 on this occasion, which she carried carefully J 
 in her hand. Conscious of having formed no ^ 
 plan yet, either for attack or defence, Mag- 
 dalen wondered, with a momentary dread, 
 whether Mrs. Lecount had decided already on 
 opening fresh communications, and whether 
 the letter was directed to " Miss Garth." 
 
 Th(! letter bore no such address. Mr. Noel 
 Yanstone had solved his pecuniary problem at 
 last. The blank space in the advertisement 
 was filled up, and Mrs. Lecount's acknowledg- 
 ment of the captain's anonymous warning was 
 now on its way to insertion in the Times. 
 
 THE END OF THE THIRD SCENE. 
 
 BETWEEN THE SCENES. 
 
 [Extract from the Advertising Columnn of The 
 Times J\ 
 
 " An Unknown Friend is requested to men- 
 tion (by advertisement) an address at which 
 a letter can reach him. The receipt of the 
 information which he offers will be acknowl- 
 edged by a reward of Five Pounds." 
 
 n. 
 
 FROM CAPTAIN WRAGGE TO MAGDALKN. 
 
 '■Birmingham, Jifiy 2, 1S47. 
 
 " My dkar Girl — The box containing the 
 articles of costume which you took away by 
 mistake has come safely to hand. Consider it 
 under my special protection until I hear from 
 you again. 
 
 " I embrace this opportunity to assure you 
 once more of my unalterable fidelity to your 
 interests. Without attempting to intrude 
 myself into your confidence, may I inquire 
 whether Mr. Noel Vanstone has consented to 
 ,do you justice? I greatly fear he has de- 
 clined — in which case I can lay my hand 
 on my heart, and solemnly declare that his 
 meanness revolts me. Why do I feel a fore- 
 boding that you have appealed to him in 
 vain ■? Why do I find myself viewing this 
 fellow in the light of a noxious insect ? We 
 are total strangers to each other ; I have no 
 sort of knowledge of him, except the knowl- 
 flSdge I picked up in making your inquiries. 
 iKas my intense sympathy with your interests 
 .made my perceptions prophetic ? or, to put it 
 fancifully, is there really such a thing as a 
 fornorer state of existence ? and has Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone mortally insulted me — say, in some 
 , other pJanet ? 
 
 " I write, my dear Magdalen, as you see, 
 with my customary dash of humor. But I am 
 serious in placing my services at your disposal. 
 Don't let the question of terms cause you an 
 instant's /tesitation. I accept, beforehand, 
 
 any terms you like to mention. If your pres- 
 ent plans point that way, I am ready to 
 squeeze Mr. Noel Vanstone, in your interests, 
 till the gold oozes out of him at every pore. 
 Pardon tlie coarseness of this metaphor. My 
 anxiety to be of service to you rushes into 
 words, lays my meaning in the rough at your 
 feet, and leaves your taste to polish it with 
 the choicest ornaments of the English lan- 
 guage. _ . - , . 
 
 " How is my unfortunate wife ? I am afraid 
 you find it quite impossible to keep her up at 
 heel, or to mould her personal appearance into 
 harmony with the eternal laws of symmetry 
 and order. Does she attempt to be too fa- 
 miliar with you V I have always been accus- 
 tomed to check her in this respect. She has 
 never been permitted to call me anything but 
 Captain; and on the rare occasions, since our 
 union, when circumstances may have obliged 
 her to address me by letter, her opening form 
 of salutation has been rigidly restricted to 
 ' Dear Sir.' Accept these trifling domestic 
 particulars as suggesting hints which may be 
 useful to you in managing Mrs. Wragge ;^and 
 believe me, in anxious expectation of hearing 
 from you again, 
 
 " Devotedly yours, 
 
 " HoKATio Wragge." 
 
 HI. 
 
 FROM NORAH TO MAGDALEN. 
 
 [Foricarded, with the Two Letters that follow it, 
 from the Post-office, Birmingham.] 
 
 " Westmoreland House. Kensington, July 1. 
 
 "My dearkst Magdalen -*- When you 
 write next (and pray write soon !) address your 
 letter to me at Miss Garth's. I have left my 
 situation, and some little time may elapse 
 before I find another. 
 
 " Now it is all over, I may acknowledge to 
 you, my darling, that I was not happy. I tried 
 hard to win the afiection of the two little girls 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 117 
 
 : bad to tcacli ; but they seemed, I am sure I 
 ;airt tell why, to dislike me from the first. 
 Their mother'l have no reason to complain of 
 But their grandmother, who was really the 
 i'uling power in tlie house, made my life very 
 lard to me. My inexperience in teaching was 
 I ((instant subject of remark with her; and 
 iiv (lifliculties with tlie children were always^ 
 risitcd on mc as if they had Ihhmi entirely of 
 11V own making. 1 tell you this, so that you 
 iMv not fiuppose I regret having left my situa- 
 i(in. Far from it, my love — I am glad to be 
 :)iit of the house. 
 
 " I have saved a little money, Magdalen, and 
 [ should so like to spend it in staying a few 
 Javs with you ! My heart aches for a sight of 
 nn .sister; my ears are weary for the sound of 
 hci- voice. A word from you, telling me where 
 wc can meet, is all I want. Think of it — pray 
 think of it! 
 
 " Don't suppose I am discouraged by this 
 first check. There are many kind people in 
 the world, and some of tliem may employ me 
 next time. The way to haj)piness is often 
 Ycry hard to find — harder, I almost think, for 
 women than for men. But if we only try 
 patient!}-, and try long enough, we reach it at 
 last — in heaven, if not on earth. I think my 
 ijray now is the way which leads to seeing you 
 igain. Don't forget that, my love, the ne.\t 
 ime you think of Nouah." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fi:OM MISS OAllTn TO MAOnAI.EN. 
 
 ••Westmoreland 1Iou.sk. July 1. 
 
 " My dear Magdalen* — You have no use- 
 less remonstrances to apprehend at the sight 
 jf my handwriting. My only object in this 
 letter is to tell you something which I know 
 jrour sister will not tell you of her own accord. 
 She is entirely ignorant that I am writing to 
 you. Keep her in ignorance, if you wish to 
 ipare her unnecessary anxiety, and me un- 
 necessary distress. 
 
 ' Xorali's letter, no doubt, tells you that she 
 has left her situation. I feel it my painful duty 
 to add that she has left it on your account. 
 
 " The matter occurred in this manner : 
 Messrs. Wyatt, Pendril, and Gwilt are the 
 Bolicitors of the gentleman in whose family 
 Norah was employed. The life which you have 
 chosen for yourself was known, as long ago as 
 December last, to all the partners. You were 
 discovered performing in public at Derby by 
 the person who had been employed to trace 
 you at York ; and that di.scovery was commu- 
 nicated by Mr. Wyatt to Norah's employer a 
 few days since, in reply to direct inquiries 
 about you on that gentleman's part. His wife 
 and his mother (who lives with him) hafl ex- 
 pressly desired that he would make those in- 
 quiries, their doubts having been aroused by 
 Norah's evasive answers when they questioned 
 her about her sister. You know Norah too 
 well to blame her for this. Evasion was the 
 
 only escape your present life had left her from 
 telling a downright falsehood. 
 
 " That same day the two ladies of the family, 
 the elder and the }Ounger, sent for your sister, 
 and told her tliey had discovered that you were 
 a public performer, roaming from place to 
 place in tlic country under an assumed name. 
 They were just enougli not to blame Norah 
 for this ; they were just enough to acknowl- 
 edge that her conduct had been as irreproach- 
 able as I had guaranteed it should be wlicn I 
 got her the situation. But, at the same time, 
 they made it a positive condition of her con- 
 tinuing in their employment that she should 
 never permit you to visit her at their house, or 
 to meet her and walk out with her when she 
 was in attendance on the ciiildren. Your sis- 
 tor — who has patiently borne all hardships that 
 fell on herself — instantly resented the slur cast 
 on you. She gave her employers warning on 
 the spot. High words followed, and she left 
 the house that evening. 
 
 " I have no wish to distress you by repre- 
 senting the loss of this situation in the light of 
 a disaster. Norah was not so happy in it as 
 I had hoped and believed she would be. It 
 was impossilile for mc to know beforehand that 
 the children were sullen and intractable, or 
 that the husband's mother was accustomed to 
 make her domineering disposition felt by every 
 one in the house. I will readily aduiit that 
 Norah is well out of this situation. But the 
 harm does not stop here. For all you and I 
 know to the contrary, the harm may go on. 
 What has happened in this situation may hap- 
 pen in another. Your way of life, however 
 pure your conduct may be — and I will do yon 
 the justice to believe it pure — is a suspicious 
 way of life to all respectable people. I have 
 lived long enough in this world to know that 
 the Sense of Propriety, in nine English women 
 out of ten, makes no allowances and feels no 
 pity. Norah's next employers may discover 
 you, and Norah may throw uj) a situation next 
 time which we may never be able to find for 
 her again. 
 
 " I leave you to consider this. ^ly child ! 
 don't think I am hard on you. I am jealous 
 for your si.ster's tramjuillity. If you will forget 
 the'past, Magdalen, and come back — trust to 
 your old governess to forget it too, and to give 
 you the home which your father and mother 
 once gave her. 
 
 " Your friend, my dear, always, 
 
 '' IIaruiet Gautu." 
 
 FROM FRANCIS CI-ARB, JVH., TO MAGDALF.N. 
 '■Srakorii, Chika, April 23. 1847. 
 
 "My dear Magdai-en — I have deferred 
 answering your Iett<!r in conscfiuence of the 
 di.stractcd state of my mind, which made me 
 unfit to write (o you. I am still unfit; but I 
 feel I ought to delay no longer. My sense of 
 
118 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 honor fortifies me, and I undergo the pain of 
 
 •writing this letter. 
 
 " My prospects in China are all at an end. 
 I'he Firm to which I was brutally consigned 
 as if I was a bale of merchandise has worn out | 
 my patience by a series of petty insults, and I j 
 have felt compelled, from motives of self-rc- I 
 spect, to withdraw my services, which were | 
 undervalued from the first. My returning to ' 
 England under these circumstances is out of i 
 the question. I have been too cruelly used in 
 my own country to wish to go back to it, even 
 if I could. I propose embarking on board a 
 private trading vessel in these seas, in a mer- 
 cantile capacity, to make my way, if I can, for 
 myself How it will end, or what will happen 
 to me next, is more than I can say. It mat- 
 ters little what becomes of me. I am a wan- 
 derer and an exile, entirely through the fault 
 of others. The unfeeling desire "at home to 
 get rid of me has accomplished its object. I 
 am got rid of for good. 
 
 " There is only one more sacrifice left for me 
 to make — the sacrifice of my heart's dearest 
 feelings. With no prospects before me, with 
 no cliauce of coming home, what hope can I 
 feel of performing my engagement to your- 
 self? None ! A more selfisli man than I am 
 might hold you to that engagement; a less 
 considerate man than I am might keep you 
 waiting for years, and to no purpose after all. 
 Cruelly as they have been trampled on, my 
 feelings are too sensitive to allow me to do 
 this. I write it with the tears in my eyes — 
 you shall not link your fate to an outcast. 
 Accept these heart-broken lines as releasing 
 you trom your promise. Our engagement is 
 at an end. 
 
 " The one consolation which supports me in 
 bidding you farewell is, that neither of us is 
 to blame. You may have acted weakly under 
 my father's influence, but I am sure you acted 
 for the best. Nobody knevr what the fatal 
 consequences of driving me out of England 
 would be but myself, and I was not listened 
 to. I yielded to my father, 1 yielded to you, 
 and this is the end of it ! 
 
 " J am suffering too acutely to write moi-e. 
 May you never know what my ivithdrawal 
 from our engagement has cost me! I beg you 
 will not blame yourself It is not your fault 
 that I have had all my energies misdirected 
 by others — it is not your fault that I have 
 never had a fair chance of getting on in life. 
 Forget the deserted wi'etch who breathes his 
 heartfelt prayers for your happiness, and who 
 ■will ever remain your friend and well-wisher, 
 "Francis Clare, Jun." 
 
 VI. 
 
 PROM FRANCIS CLAUE, SEN., TO MAGDALEN. 
 (Inclosing the Preceding Letter.) 
 
 " I always told your poor father my son 
 ■was a Fool ; but I never knew he was a 
 Scoundrel until the mail came in from China. 
 
 I have every reason to believe that he has lef 
 his employers under the most disgraceful cir 
 cumstances. Forget him from this time fortl 
 as I do. When you and I last set eyes ol 
 each other you behaved well to me in thf 
 business. AH I can now say in return I d| 
 say. My girl, I am sorry for you. 
 
 " F. C." 
 VII. 
 
 KKOM MRS. WRAGOE TO HER HUSBAND. 
 
 " dear sir for mercy's sake come here and 
 help us She had a dreadful letter I don't know 
 what yesterday but she read it in bed and 
 when I went in with her breakfast I found 
 her dead and if the doctor had not been twoi, 
 doors off nobody else could have brought her toe 
 life again and she sits and looks dreadful and; 
 wont speak a word her eyes frighten me so I 
 shake from head to foot oh please do come I 
 keep things as tidy as I can and I do like her 
 so and she used to be so kind to me and the 
 landlord says he 's afraid she '11 destroy her- 
 self I wish I could write straight but I do 
 shake so your dutiful wife matilda wragge 
 excuse faults and beg you on my knees come 
 and help us the Doctor good man will put 
 some of his own writing into this for fear you 
 can't make out mine and remain once more 
 your dutiful wife matilda wragge." 
 
 \^Added h>i the Doctor.'] 
 
 " Sir — I beg to inform you that I was yes- 
 terday called in to a neighbor's in Vauxhall 
 Walk, to attend a young lady who had been 
 suddenly taken ill. I recovered her with 
 great difficulty from one of the most obstinate 
 fainting fits I ever remember to have met 
 with. Since that time she has had no relapse, 
 but there is apparently some heavy distress 
 weighing on her mind, which it has hithertc 
 been found impossible to remove. She sits, 
 as I am informed, perfec;tly silent, and per- 
 fectly unsconscious of what goes on about her,! 
 for hours together, with a letter in her handj 
 which she will allow nobody to take from her 
 If this state of depression continues very dis- 
 tressing mental consequences may follow ; ant 
 I only do my duty in suggesting that somt] | 
 relative or friend should interfei-e who has 
 influence enough to rouse her. 
 " Your obedient servant, , 
 
 " Richard Jarvis, M. R. C. S.' 
 
 VIII. 
 
 FROM NORAH TO MAGDALEN. 
 
 "Jtdy b. 
 
 " For God's sake, write me one line to saj 
 if you are still at Birmingham, and where . 
 can find you there ! I have just heard fronj 
 old Mr. Clare. Oh, Magdalen, if you hav«j 
 no pity on yourself, have some pity on me 
 The thought of you alone among strangersj 
 the thought of you heart-broken under thi:j 
 dreadful blow, never leaves me for an instant; 
 No words can tell how I feel for you I Mj 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 11» 
 
 wn love, remember the better days at home I 
 efore that cowardly villain stole his way into 
 our heart; remember tlie happy time at 
 ^ombe-Raven, when we were always together. 
 )h, don't — don't treat me like a stranger! 
 fVe arc alone in the world now — let me 
 ome and comTort you- — let me be more than 
 i sister to you, if 1 ean. One line — only one 
 iue to tell me where I can find you !" ; 
 
 IX. 
 
 FROM MA0I)AL1!N TO NlJUAH. 
 
 "Juhj-i. 
 
 " My DKARK8T NoKAH — All that your love 
 or me can wish your letter has done. You, 
 ind vou alone, liavo Ibund your way to my 
 icart. I could think again, I could I'eel again, 
 dter reading what you have written to mc. 
 A'.t this assurance quiet your anxieties. My 
 nind lives and brcatlies once more — it was 
 icad unlil I got your letter. 
 
 " Tiie shock I have suffered has left a strange 
 juietness in me. I feel as if I had parted from 
 uy former self — as if the hopes, once so dc^ar to 
 ne, li;id all gone bac^k to some past time, from 
 vhicli 1 am now far removed. I can look at 
 .he wreck of my life more calmly, Norah, than 
 ,-on eould look at it if we were both together 
 igaiii. lean trust myself already to write of 
 Frank. 
 
 ♦' ]\Iy darling, I think no woman ever knows 
 low utterly slie has given herself up to the 
 nan slic loves until that man has ill-treated 
 ler. Can you j)ity my weakness if I confess 
 ,0 having felt a pang at my heart, when I read 
 ,hat ])art of your letter which calls Frank a 
 loward and a villain V Nobody can despise 
 ne for this, as I despise myself. I am- like a 
 log wlio crawls back and licks the master's 
 land that has beaten him. But it is so — I 
 ivoulil confess it to nobody but you — indeed, 
 indeed it is so. He has deceivtd and deserted 
 nu- ; he lias written me a cruel farewell — but 
 lon't rail him a villain ! If he repented and 
 ::anu' back to me, I would die rather than 
 marry him now ; but it grates on me to see 
 that word coward written against him in your 
 hand! If he is weak of purpose, who tried 
 his weakness beyond what it could bear? Do 
 you think this woidd have happened if Michael 
 Vanstone ha<l not robbed us of our own, and 
 forced Frank away from me to China? In a 
 week from to-day the year of waiting would 
 havi- (;ome to an end ; and I should have been 
 Frank's wife, if my marriage portion had not 
 been taken from me. 
 
 " You will say, after what has happened, it 
 is well that I have escaped. TVIy love ! there 
 is !-omething perverse in my lieart which 
 answers, No! Better have been Frank's 
 wret< lied wi/e than the free woman I am now. 
 " I have not written to him. He sends me 
 no aildress at which I could write even if I 
 would. But 1 have not the wish. I will wait 
 before I stnd him viy farewell. If a day ever 
 comes when I have the fortune which my 
 
 father once promised I should bring to him — 
 do you know what I would do with it? I 
 would send it all to Frank, as my revenge on 
 him for his letter ; as the last farewell word, 
 on my side, to the man who has deserted me. 
 Let me live for that day ! Let me live, 
 Norah, in the hope of better times for i/ou, 
 which is all the hope I have left. When I 
 think of your hard life, I can almost feel tho 
 tears once more in my weary eyes — I can 
 almost think I have come back again to my 
 former self 
 
 " You will not think me hard-hearted and 
 ungrateful if I say that we must wait a little 
 yet bef)re we meet? I want to be more fit 
 to see you than I am now. I want to put 
 Frank farther away from me, and to biing 
 you nearer still. Are these good reasons ? I 
 "don't know — don't ask me for reasons. Take 
 the kiss I have put for you here, where the 
 little circle is drawn on the paper, and let that 
 bring us together for the present, till I write 
 auain. Goodby, my love. My heart is true 
 to you, Norah, but I dare not see you yet. 
 
 " Magdalen." 
 X. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 rrtlJM MAGDALEN TO MISS OAIITH. 
 
 "Juhj 1.5. 
 
 "Mydkak Miss Garth — I have been 
 long in answering your letter; but you know 
 what has lia[i])ened, and you will forgive me. 
 
 " All that 1 have to say may be said in few 
 words. You may depend on my never making 
 the general Sense of Froijriety my enemy 
 a<rain : I am getting knowledge enough ol the 
 world to make it my accomplice next time. 
 Norah will never leave another situation on 
 my account — my life as a public i)crformer 
 is at an end. It was harmless enough, (Jod 
 knows — I may live, and so may \ou, to 
 mourn the day when 1 parted from it — but I 
 shall never return to it again. It has left me, 
 as Frank has leJtme, as all my better thought* 
 have left me — except my thoughts of Norah. 
 
 " F>nough of myself! Shall I tell you soma 
 news to brighten this dull letter? Mr. 
 Michael Vanstone is dead, and Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone has succeeded to the possession of 
 my fortune and Norah's. He is (piite worthy 
 of his inheritance. In his father's place he 
 would have ruined us as his father did. 
 
 " I have no more to say that you would care 
 to know. Don't be distressed about me. I 
 am trying to recover my spirits -— I am try- 
 ing to forget the poor, deluded girl who was 
 foolish enough to i)e fond of Frank in the old 
 days at Cond)e-Ivavcn. Sometimes a pang 
 comes which tells me the girl won't be forgot- 
 ten, but not often. 
 
 " It was very kind of you, when you wrote 
 to such a lost <Tcature as I am, to .>-ign your- 
 self — ahcaj/x my friend ! ' Always' is a bold 
 word, my dear old governess ! I wonder 
 whether you will ever want to recall it ? Il 
 will mak»! no dilfercnce if you do, in the grat- 
 itude I shall always feci lor the trouble you 
 
120 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 took with me when I was a little giil. I have 
 ill repaid that trouble — ill repaid your kind- 
 ness to me in after-life. I ask your pardon 
 and your pity. The best thing you can do for 
 both of us is to forget me. Affectionately 
 yours, Magdalen. 
 
 " P. S. — I open the envelope to add one 
 line. For God's sake, don't show this letter 
 to Norah ! " 
 
 XI. 
 
 FROM MAGDALKN TO CAPTAIN WRAGOK. 
 
 •• Vauxham, Walk. July 17. 
 
 " If I am not mistaken, it was arranged 
 that I should write to you at Birmingham as 
 soon as I felt myself composed enou'di to 
 think of the future. My mind is settled at 
 last, and 1 am now able to accept the services 
 which you have unreservedly offered to me. 
 
 " I beg you will forgive the manner in 
 which I received you, on your arrival in this 
 house, after hearing the news of my sudden 
 illness. I was quite incapable of controlling 
 myself — I was suffering an agony of mind 
 which for the time deprived me of my senses. 
 It is only your due that I should now thank 
 you for treating me with great forbearance, 
 at a time when forbearance was mercy. 
 
 " I will mention what I wish you to do as 
 plainly and brieiiy as I can. | 
 
 " In the first place, I request you to dispose i 
 (as privately as possible) of every article of 
 costume used in the dramatic Entertainment. 
 I have done with our performances for ever, 
 and I wish to be set free from everything 
 which might accidentally connect me with 
 them in the future. The key of my box is 
 enclosed in this letter. 
 
 " The other box, which contains my own 
 dresses, you will be kind enough to forward 
 to this house. I do not ask you to bring it 
 yourself, because I have a far more important 
 commission to entrust to you. 
 
 " Referring to the note which you left for 
 me at your departure, I conclude that you 
 have by this time traced Mr. Noel Vanstcne 
 from Vauxhall Walk to the residence whicli 
 he is now occupying. If you have made the 
 discovery — and if you are (juite sure of not 
 having drawn the attention either of Mrs. Le- 
 count or her master to yourself— I wish you 
 to arrange immediately for my residing (with 
 you and Mrs. Wragge) in the same town or 
 village in which Mr. Noel Vanstone has taken 
 up his abode. I write this, it Is hardly neces- 
 sary to say, under the impression that wher- 
 ever he may now be living he is settled in the 
 place for some little time. 
 
 "If you can find a small furnished house for 
 me on these conditions, which is to be let by 
 the month, take it for a month certain to be- 
 gin with. Say that it is for your wife, your 
 niece, and yourself, and use any assumed name 
 you please, so long as it is a name which can 
 be trusted to defeat the most suspicious inqui- 
 ries. I leave this to your experience in such 
 
 matters. The secret of who we really are 
 must be kept as strictly as if it was a secret on 
 which our lives depend. 
 
 "Any expense to which you may be put in 
 carrying out my wishes I will immediately re- 
 pay. If you easily find the sort of house I 
 want, there is no need for your returning to 
 Lonilon to fetch us. We can join you as soon 
 as we know where to go. The house must be 
 perfectly respec^table, and must be reasonably 
 near to Mr. Noel Vanstone's present residence, 
 wherever that is. 
 
 " You must allow me to be silent in this let- 
 ter as to the object which I have now in view, 
 1 am unwilling to risk an explanation in writ- 
 ing. When all our preparations are made 
 you shall hear what I propose to do from my 
 own lips; and I shall expect you to tell me 
 plainly in return whether you will, or will not, 
 give me the help I want, on the best terms 
 which I am able to offer you. 
 
 " One more word before I seal up this letter, 
 
 " If any opportunity falls in your way, after 
 you have taken the house and before we join 
 you, of exchanging a few civil words either 
 with Mr. Noel Vanstone or Mrs. Lecount, 
 take advantage of it. It is very important to 
 my present object that we should become ac- 
 (juainted with each other — as the purely acci- 
 dental result of our being near neighbors. I 
 want you to smooth the way toward this end, 
 if you can, before Mrs. Wragge and I come to 
 you. Pray throw away no chance of observ- 
 ing Mrs. Lecount in particular very carefully. 
 Whatever help you can give me at the outset 
 in blindfolding that woman's sharp eyes will 
 be the most precious help I have ever received 
 at your hands. 
 
 " There is no need to answer this letter im- 
 mediately — unless I have written it under a 
 mistaken impression of what you have accom- 
 plished since leaving London. I have taken \ 
 our lodgings on for another week, and I can ; 
 wait to hear from you until you are able to 
 send me such news as I wish to receive. You 
 may be quite sure of my patience for the fu- 
 ture, under all possible circumstances. My 
 caprices are at an end, and my violent temper 
 has tried your forbearance for the last time, 
 " Magdalen." 
 
 XII. 
 
 vrom captain wragge to magdaleh. 
 
 " North Shi.nolks Villa, 
 Albbokough, Suffolk, July 22, 
 
 " My dear Girl — Your letter has charm- 
 ed and touched me. Your excuses have gone 
 straight to my heart, and your confidence in 
 my humble abilities has followed in the same 
 direction. The pulse of the old militia-man 
 throbs with pride as he thinks of the trust you 
 have placed in him, and vows to deserve it. 
 Don't be surprised at this genial outburst. All 
 enthusiastic natures must explode occasional- 
 ly, and 7?!^ form of explosion is — Words. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 131 
 
 " Everything you wanted me to do is done. 
 The house is taken; the name is found; and I 
 \m personally acquainted with Mrs. Lecount. 
 After readinjj this general statement you will 
 naturally be Tnterested in possessing your miud 
 next of the accompanying details. Here they 
 arc, at your service. 
 
 " The day after leaving you in London I 
 traced Mr. Noel Vanstone to this curious little 
 ■;c;i-side snuggery. One of his father's innu- 
 merable bargains was a house at Aldborough — 
 a risinof watering-place, or Mr. Michael Van- 
 stone would not have invested a farthing in 
 it. In this house the despicable little miser, 
 who lived rent-free in London, now lives rent- 
 fno acrain, on the coast of Suffolk. He is set- 
 tled in his present abode for the summer and 
 autumn; and you and Mrs. Wragge have only 
 (ii join mc here to be established five doors 
 away from him in this elegant villa. I have 
 got tlie whole house for three guineas a week, 
 with the option of remaining through the au- 
 tumn at the same price. In a fashionalile 
 watering-place such a residence would have 
 lucn cheap at double the money. 
 
 " Our new name has been chosen with a 
 wary eye to your suggestions. My Books — I 
 hope you have not forgotten my Books ? — 
 contain, under the heading of Shins to Jump 
 'Into, a list of individuals retired from this 
 mortal scene, with whose names, families, and 
 circumstances I am well accjuainted. Into 
 some of those Skins I have been compelled to 
 Jump, in the exercise of my profession, at for- 
 mer periods of my career. Others are still in 
 the condition of new dresses, and remain to 
 be tried on. The Skin which will exactly fit 
 as originally clothed the bodies of a family 
 named Bygrave. I am in Mr. Bygrave's skin 
 at this moment — and it fits without a wrinkle. 
 If you will oblige me by .^lipping into Mis.s By- 
 grave (Christian name, Susan); and if you 
 will afterward push Mrs. Wragge — anyhow; 
 bead-foremost if you like — into Mrs. Bygrave 
 (Christian name, Julia), the transformation 
 will be complete. Permit me to inform you 
 that I am your paternal unch. My worthy 
 brother was established, twenty years ago, in 
 the mahogany and logwood trade at Belize, 
 Honduras. He died in that place, and is bur- 
 ied on the .south-west side of the local ceme- 
 tery, with a neat monument of native wood 
 carved by a self-taught negro artist. Nine- 
 teen months afterward his wife died of apo- 
 plexy at a boarding-house in Cheltenham. 
 She was supposed to Ikj the most corpulent 
 woman in lOngland, and was accommodated 
 on the ground-floor of the house in conse- 
 (juence of the difficulty of getting her up and 
 down stairs. You are her only child; you 
 have bicn under my care since the sad event 
 in Clielteiiham ; you are twenty years old on 
 the second of August next; and, corpulence 
 excepted, you are the living image of your 
 mother. I trouble you with these specimens 
 of my intimate knowledge of our new family 
 16 
 
 Skin, to quiet your mind on the subject of 
 future inquiries. Trust to me and my Books 
 to satisfy any amount of inquiry. In the 
 meantime write down our new name and 
 address, and see how they strike you — ' Mr. 
 Bygrave, Mrs. Bygrave, Miss Bygrave, North 
 Shingles Villa, Aldborough.' Upon my life, 
 it reads remarkably well I 
 
 " The last detail I have to communicate re- 
 fers to my acquaintance with Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 "We met yesterday, in the grocers shop 
 here. Keeping my ears open, I found that 
 Mrs. Lecount wanted a particular kind of tea, 
 which the man had not got, and which he be- 
 lieved could not be procured any nearer than 
 Ipswich. I instantly saw my way to beginning 
 an acquaintance, at the trifling expense of a 
 journey to that flourishing ( ity. 'I have bus- 
 iness to-day at Ipswich,' I said, ' and I propose 
 returning to Aldborough (if I can get back in 
 time) this evening. Pray allow me to take 
 your order for the tea, and to bring it back 
 with my own parcels.' Mrs. Lecount politely 
 declined giving mc the trouble — I politely in- 
 sisted on taking it. We fell into conversation. 
 There is no need to trouble you with our talk. 
 The result of it on my mind is, that Mrs. Le- 
 count's one weak point, if she has such a thing 
 at all, is a taste for science, implanted by her 
 deceased husband, the Professor. I think I 
 see a chance here of working my way into 
 her good graces, and casting a little needful 
 dust into those handsome black eyes of hers. 
 Acting on this idea, when I purchased the 
 lady's tea at Ipswich I also bought on my own 
 account that far-famed pocket manual of 
 knowledge, ' Joy-ce's Scientific Dialogues.' 
 Possessing, as I do, a quick memory and 
 boundless confidence iu myself, I propose pri- 
 vately inflatiiig my new skin with as much 
 ready-made science as it will hold, and pre- 
 senting Mr. Bygrave to Mrs. Lecount's notice 
 in the character of the most highly-informed 
 man she has met with since the Professor's 
 death. The necessity of blindfolding that 
 woman (to use your own admirable expres- 
 sion) is as clear to me as to you. If it is to 
 be done in the way I propose, make your 
 mind easy — Wragge, inflated by Joyce, is the 
 man to do it. 
 
 " You now have my whole budget of uewg. 
 Am I, or am I not, worthy of your confidence 
 iu mc ? I say nothing of my devouring 
 anxiety to know what your objects really are. 
 — that anxiety will be satisfied when we meet.. 
 Never yet, my dear girl, did I long to admin- 
 ister a productive pecuniary Squeeze to any 
 human creature as I long to administer it to 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone. I say no more. V'erbum 
 nap. Pardon the pedantry of a Latin quota- 
 tion, and beUeve me, 
 
 " Entirely yours, 
 
 " Horatio Wragge. 
 
 " P. S. — I await my instructions, as you re- 
 quested. You have only ta say whether 1 
 
 ^ 
 
122 NO NAME. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Hhall return to London for tin; purpose ofj [Eximct/rom i!,e r:.,si Sufolk Ar.jni,.] 
 
 escorting you to this place, or wlietlior ] sliall " Ai.djjorougii. — We notice with pleasure 
 wait here to receive you. The house is in i the arrival of visitors to this healthful and far- 
 perfect order, the weather is charniinjr, and ; famed waterinir-phice earlier in the season 
 the sea is rs smooth as Mrs. Lecownt's ajtron. : than usual durinj]; the present year. Esto 
 She has just passed the window, and we have ! pcrpelvo is all we have to say. 
 
 exchanjied bows. A sharp woman, my dear 
 Magdalen, but Joyce and I together may prove 
 a trifle too much for her." 
 
 V^isiTOUs' List. — Arrivals since our last : 
 North Shingles Villa — Mrs. Bygrave; Mis3 
 Bygravc." 
 
 THE FOURTH SCENE-ALDBOROUGH, SUFFOLK. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 The most striking spectacle presented to a 
 stranger by the shores of Suffolk is the ex- 
 traordinary defencelessness of the land against 
 the emroafhments of tiie sea. 
 
 At Aldborough, as elsewhere on this coast, 
 local traditions are, for the most j)art, tradi- 
 tions which have been literally drowned. The 
 site of the old town, once a pojjulous and 
 thriving port, has almost entirely disappeared 
 in the sea. The (i(;rman Ocean lias swallowed 
 up streets, market-places, jetties, and [lublic 
 walks; and the merciless waters, consunniial- 
 ing their work of devastation, closed, no longer 
 than eighty years sincte, over the salt-maslei-'s 
 cottage at Aldborough, now famous in memory 
 onlv as the birth-})Iace of the ])0ct Crabbe. 
 
 Thrust back year after ye tr by the advanc- 
 incf waves, the inhabitants have reecided, in 
 the ])rcsent century, to the last morsel of land 
 which is firm enough to be built on — a strip of 
 grounil hennaed in between a r^.'^r^h on one 
 side and the sea on the other, m're, trusting 
 for their future Secui-ity to certain sandhills 
 which the capricious waves have thrown up 
 to encourage them, the people of Aldborougii 
 have boldly establislied their cpiaint little water- 
 ing-place. The first fragment oi" their earthly 
 possessions is a low, natural dyke of shingle, 
 surmounted by a jjultlic path which runs 
 parallel with the sea. Bordi ring this path in 
 a broken, uneven line are the villa residences 
 of modern Aldborough — fanciful little liouses, 
 standing mostly in their own gardens, and 
 possesning here and there, as horticultural 
 ornaments, staring figure-heads of ships, doing 
 duty tor statues among the flowers. Viewed 
 from the low level on which these villas stand, 
 the sea, in certain conditions of the atmos- 
 phere, appears to be higher than the lan<l ; 
 coasting- vessels gliding by assume gigantic 
 projiorlions and look alarmingly near the 
 tvinilows. Intermixed with the houses of the 
 . better sort are buildings of other forms and 
 periods. In one direction the tiny Gothic 
 town-hall of old Aldborough — once the centre 
 of the vanished port and borough — now stands 
 fronting the modern villas close on the margin 
 of the sea. At another point a wooden tower 
 
 of observation, crowned by the figure-head of 
 a wrecked Russian vessel, rises higii above the 
 neighboring houses, and discloses through ita 
 s.'uttle - window grave men in dark clothing 
 seated on the topmost story perpetually ou 
 tlie watch — the pilots of Aldborough looking 
 out from their tower for ships in want of help. 
 Behind the row of buildings thus cui'iously 
 intermingled runs the one straggling street of 
 the town, with its sturdy pilots' cottages, 
 its mouldering marine storehouses, and its com- 
 posite shops. Toward the northern end this 
 street is bounded by the one eminence visi- 
 ble over all the marshy flat — a low, wooded 
 iiill ou which the church is built. At its op- 
 posite extremity the street leads to a deserted 
 martello tower, and to the forlorn outlying 
 sul)Uib of Slaughden, between the River Aide 
 and the sea. Such are the main character- 
 istics of this curious little outpost on the shores 
 of England as it appears at the present time. 
 
 On a hot and cloudy July afternoon, and 
 on the second day which had elapsed since he 
 had written to Magdalen, Captain Wragge 
 sauntered through the gate of North Shingles 
 Villa to meet the arrival of the coach, which 
 then connected Aldborough with the Eastern 
 Counties Railway, lie reached the principal 
 inn as the coach drove up, and was readjr 
 at the door to receive Magdalen and Mrs. 
 Wragge on their leaving the vehicle. - 
 
 The captain's reception of his wife was not 
 characterized by an instant's unnecessary 
 waste of time. He looked distrustfully at her 
 shoes^ — raised himself on tip-toe — set her bon- 
 net straight for her with a sharp tug — said, in 
 a loud whisper, " hold your tongue" — and left 
 her, for the time being, without further notice. 
 Ills welcome to Magdalen, beginning with the 
 usual flow of words, stopped suddenly in 
 the middle of the first sentence. Captain 
 Wragge's eye was a sharp one, and it in- 
 stantly showed him something in the look 
 and manner of his old pupil which denoted a 
 serious change. 
 
 There was a settled composure on her face, 
 which, except when she spoke, made it look as 
 still and cold ax marble. Her voice was softer 
 and more equable, her eyes were steadier, her 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 123 
 
 step was slower than of old. When she smiled 
 the smile came and went siuldenly, and 
 showed a little nervoiw contraction on one 
 side of her month never visible there before. 
 She was [u-rfectly patient with Mrs. Wragge ; 
 she treated the captain with a courtesy and 
 consideration entin-ly new in his experience 
 of her — but she was interested in nothing. 
 The curious little shops in the back streets; 
 the high impending sea ; the old town-hall on 
 the beach ; the pilots, the fishermen, the pass- 
 ing ships — she noticed all tliesc objettts as 
 indifferently as if Aldborough had been famil- 
 iar to her from her infancy. Even when tlie 
 captain drew up at the garden-gate of North 
 Shinulcs, and introduced her trimnphantly to 
 the liew house, she h;\rdly looked at it. The 
 first question she asked related, not to her own 
 residence, but to Noel Vanstone's. 
 
 " How near to us does he live?" she inquired, 
 with the oidy betrayal of emotion which had 
 escaped her yet. 
 
 Captain \Vragge answered by pointing to 
 the fifth villa from North Shingles, on the 
 Sianglulen side of Aldborongli. Mag<lalen 
 Buddenly drew back from the garden-gate as 
 he indicated the situation, and walked away 
 by herself to obtain a nearer view of the 
 house. 
 
 Captain Wragge hteked after her, and shook 
 his head discontentedly. " The devil take that 
 gentleman in the back-ground," lie thought. 
 •' Siie lias not got over the loss of him yet." 
 
 " May I speak now ?" inquired a meek voice 
 behind him, articulating respectfully ten inches 
 above the top of his straw hat. 
 
 Tlie captain turned round and confronted 
 his wife. The more than ordinary bewilder- 
 ment visible in her face at once suggested to 
 him that Magdalen had failed to carry out the 
 direitions in his letter, and that Mi's. Wragge 
 had arrived at Aldborough without being 
 properly aware of the total transformation to 
 be accomplished in her identity and her name. 
 Tlie necessity of setting this doubt at rest was 
 too serious to bi! trifled with, and Captain 
 Wragge instituted the necessary inquiries with- 
 out a moment's delay. 
 
 " Stand straight, and listen tome," he began. 
 " I have a que>lion to ask you. Do you know 
 ■whose Skill you are in at tliis moment? I)o 
 you know that you are dead and binied in 
 London, and that you have risen like a pha-nix 
 from the ashes of Mrs. Wragge? No! you 
 evidently don't know it This i.s pcHectly dis- 
 graceful. What is your name?" 
 • "Matilda," answered Mr.-*. Wragge, in a 
 elate of the densest bewilderment. 
 
 "Nothing of fh(; sort!" cried the captain, 
 fiercely. " How dan; you t«ll me your name- 's 
 Matilda? Your name is iJulia. Who am I V 
 Hold that ba.sket of sandwiches straight, or I il 
 pitch it into the sea." Who am 1 V" 
 
 " I don't know," said Mrs. Wragge, meekly 
 taking refuge in the negative side of the ques- 
 tion this time. 
 
 " Sit down !" .-'aid her husband, pointing to 
 the low garden-wall of North Shingles Vilhi. 
 " More to the right ! More still ! That will do. 
 You don't know V" repeated the captain, stern- 
 ly confronting his wife, as soon as he had con- 
 trived, by seating her, to place her face on a 
 level with his own. " Don't let me hear you 
 say that a second time. Don't let me have a 
 woman who doesn't know who I am to operate 
 on my beard to-moirow morning. Look at 
 me ? More to the left — more still — that will 
 do. Who ami? I 'm Mr. Bygrave — Christian 
 name, Thomas. Who are you? Y'ou 're Mr* 
 Bygrave — Christian name, Julia. Who is that 
 young lady who travelled with you from Lon- 
 don ? That young lady is Miss Bygrave — 
 Christian nani(% Susan. T 'm liei' ch^ver uncle 
 Tom, and you 'r(^ her addle-headed aunt Julia. 
 Say it all over to me instantly, like the Cate- 
 chism ! What is your name ?" 
 
 " Spare my poor head !" pleaded Mrs, 
 Wragge. " Oh, please sj)are my poor head 
 till I 've got the stage-coach out of it !" 
 
 " Don't distress her," said Magdalen, joining 
 them at that moment. " She will learn it in 
 time. Come into tire house." 
 
 Captain Wragge shook his wary head once 
 more. "We are beginning badly," he said, 
 with less politeness than usual." My wife's 
 stupidity stands in our way already." 
 
 'They went into the house. Magdalen was 
 perfectly satisfied with all the captain's ar- 
 rangements ; she accepted the room which he 
 had set apart for her; apjiroved of the woman- 
 servant whom he had engaged : j)resented her- 
 self at tea-time the moment she was sunv 
 moned — but still showed no inten>st whatever 
 in the new scene around her. Soon after the 
 table was cleared, although the daylight had 
 not yet faded out, Mrs. Wragge's customary 
 drowsiness after fatigue of any kind overcame 
 her; and she received her husband's orders to 
 leave the room (taking care that she left it 
 " up at heel"), and to betake herself (strictly 
 in the character of Mrs. Bygrave) to bed. As 
 soon as tlicy were left alone the captain looked 
 hard at Magdalen, and waited tn be spoken to. 
 She said nothing. He ventured ne.xt on open- 
 ing the conversation by a yiolite incpiiry after 
 the state of her health. " You look fatigued," 
 he remarked, in his most insinuating manner. 
 " 1 am afraid the journey has been too much 
 for you.' 
 
 "No," she replied, looking out listlessly 
 through the window ; " I am not more tired 
 than usual. I am always weary now — weary 
 at going to bed ; weary at getting up. If you 
 would like to hear what I have to say to you 
 to-night, I am willing and really to say it 
 Can't we go out? It is very hot here; and 
 the droning of tho.«e men's voices is beyond 
 all endurance." She pointed through the win- 
 dow to a group of boatmen idling, as only 
 nautical men can idle, against the garden-wall. 
 " Is there no quiet walk in this wretched 
 place ?■' she asked, impatiently. •' Can't wb 
 
124 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 breathe a little fresh air, and escape being 
 annoyed by strangers ?" 
 
 " There is perfect solitude within half an 
 hour's walk of the house," replied the ready 
 captain. 
 
 " Very well. Come out, then." 
 
 With a weary sigh she took up her straw 
 bonnet and her light muslin scarf from the 
 side-table upon which she had thrown them 
 on coming in, and carelessly led the way to 
 the door. Captain Wragge followed her to 
 the garden-gate — then stopped, struck by a 
 new idea. 
 
 " Excuse me," he whispered, confidentially. 
 " In my wife's existing state of ignorance as 
 to who she is, we had better not trust lier alone 
 in the house with a new servant. I '11 pri- 
 Tately turn the key on her, in case she wakes 
 before we come back. Safe bind, safe find — 
 you know the proverb ! — I will be with you 
 again in a moment." 
 
 He hastened back to the house, and Mag- 
 dalen seated herself on the garden-wall to 
 await his return. 
 
 She had hardly settled herself in that posi- 
 tion when two gentlemen walking together, 
 whose approach along the public path she had 
 not previously noticed, passed close by her. 
 
 The dress of one of the two strangers show- 
 ed him to be a clergyman. His companion's 
 station in life was less easily discernible to ordi- 
 nary observation. Practiced eyes would prob- 
 ably have seen enough in his look, his manner, 
 and his walk to show that he was a sailor. He 
 was a man in the prime of life — tall, spare, 
 and muscular ; his face sun-burned to a deep 
 brown; his black hair just turning gray ; liis 
 eyes dark, deep, and firm — the eyes of a man 
 with an iron resolution and a habit of com- 
 mand. He was the nearest of the two to 
 Magdalen as he am:! his friend passed the 
 place where she was sitting; and he looked at 
 her with a sudden surprise at her beauty, and 
 with an open, hearty, undisguised admiration, 
 which was too evidently sincere, too evidently 
 beyond his own control to be justl}' resented 
 as insolent — and yet, in her humor at that mo- 
 ment, Magdalen did resent it. She felt the 
 man's resolute black eyes strike through her 
 ■with an electric suddenness ; and frowning at 
 him impatiently, she turned away her head 
 and looked back at the house. 
 
 The next moment she glanced round again 
 to see if he had gone on. He had advanced 
 . a few yards — had then evidently stopped — 
 . and was now in the very act of turning to 
 . look at her once more. His companion, the 
 clergyman, noticing that Magdalen appeared 
 to be annoyed, took him familiarly by the 
 arm; and, half in jest, half in earnest, forced 
 him to walk on. The two disappeared round 
 the corner of the next house. As they turned 
 it the suB-burned sailor twice stopped his com- 
 panion a^ain, and twice looked back. 
 
 " A friend of yours ?" inquired Captain 
 > Wragge, rejoining Magdalen at that moment. 
 
 " Certainly not," she replied ; " a perfect 
 stranger. He stared at me in the most im- 
 j)ertinent manner. Does he belong to this 
 place ?" 
 
 " I '11 find out in a moment," said the com- 
 pliant captain, joining the group of boatmen, 
 and putting his questions right and left, with 
 the easy familiarity which distinguished him. 
 He returned in a few minutes with a complete 
 budget of information. The clergyman was 
 well known as the rector of a place situated 
 some few miles inland. The dark man with 
 him was his wife's brother, commander of a 
 ship in the merchant service. He was sup- 
 posed to be staying with his relatives, as their 
 guest for a short time only, preparatory to 
 sailing on another voyage. The clergyman's 
 name was Strickland, and the merchant-cap- 
 tain's name was Kirke — and that was all the 
 boatmen knew about either of thein. 
 
 " It is of no consequence who they are," 
 said Magdalen, carelessly. "The man's rude- 
 ness merely annoyed me for the moment. Let 
 us have done with him. I have something 
 else to think of, and so have you. Where is 
 the solitary walk you mentioned just now ? 
 Which way do we go ?" 
 
 The captain pointed southward, toward 
 Slaugliden, and offered his arm. 
 
 Magdalen hesitated before she took it. Her 
 ejes wandered away inquiringly to Noel Van- 
 stone's house. He was out in the garden, 
 pa<'ing backward and forward over the little 
 lawn, with his head high in the air, and with 
 I\Irs. I^ecouiit demureh' in attendance on him, 
 carrying her master's green fan. Seeing this, 
 Magdalen at once took Captain Wragge's right 
 arm, so as to place herself nearest to the gar- 
 den when they passed it on their walk.' 
 
 " The eyes of our neighbors are on us; and 
 the least your niece can do is to take your 
 arm," she said, with a bitter laugh. " Come ! 
 let us go on on !" 
 
 " They are looking this way," whispered 
 the captain. " Shall I introduce you to Mrs. 
 Lecount T' 
 
 "Not to-night," she answered. "Wait, and 
 hear wliat I have to say to you first." 
 
 They passed the garden - wall. Captain 
 Wragge took off his hat with a smart flourish, 
 and received a gracious bow from Mrs. Le- 
 count in return. Magdalen saw the house- 
 keeper survey her face, her figure, and her 
 dress, with that reluctant interest, that dis- 
 trustful curiosity, which women feel in observ- 
 ing each other. As she walked on beyond the 
 house the sharp voice of Mr. Noel Vanstorie 
 reached her through the evening stillness. 
 " A fine girl, Lecount !" she heard him say. 
 " You know I am a judge of that sort of thing 
 — a fine girl!" 
 
 As those words were spoken Captain Wragge 
 looked round at his companion in sudden sur- 
 prise. Her hand was trembling violently on 
 his arm, and her lips were fast closed with an 
 expression of speechless pain. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 125 
 
 Slowly and in silence the two walked on ! 
 until they reached the southern limit of the 
 houses, and entered on a little wilderness of 
 •hingle and withered grass — the desolate end 
 of Aldborough, the lonely beginning of SlaugliT 
 den. 
 
 It was a dull, airless evening. Eastward 
 was the grav majesty of the sea, hushed in 
 l)reathless calm — the horizon line invisibly 
 melting into the monotonous, misty sky; the 
 idle ships shadowy and still on the idle water. 
 Southward, the high ridge of the sea-dyke, and 
 the grim, massive circle of a martello tower, 
 reared high on its mound of grass, closed the 
 view darkly on all that lay beyond. West- 
 ward, a lurid streak of sunset glowed red \n 
 the dreary heaven — blackened th(^ fringing 
 trees on the far borders of the great inland 
 marsh — and turned its little gleaming water- 
 pools to pools of blood. Nearer to the eye, 
 the sullen flow of the tidal River Aide ebbed 
 noiselessly from the muddy l)anks; and nearer 
 still, lonely and unprosperous by the bleak 
 water-side, lay the lost little port of Slaugh- 
 den, with its forlorn wharfs and warehouses of 
 decaying wood, and its few scattered coasting- 
 vessels deserted on the oozy river-shore. No 
 fall of waves was heard on the beach ; no 
 trickling of waters bubbled audibly from the 
 idle stream. Now and then the cry of a sea- 
 bird rose from the region of the marsh ; and at 
 intervals, from farm-houses far in the inland 
 waste, the faint winding of horns to call the 
 cattle home travelled mournfully through the 
 evening calm. 
 
 Magdalen drew her hand from the captain's 
 arm, and led the way to the mound of the 
 martello tower. " I am weary of walking," 
 she said. " Let us stop and rest here." 
 
 She seated herself on the slope, and, resting 
 on her elbow, mechanically pulled up and scat- 
 tered from hflfr into the air the tufts of grass 
 growing under her hand. After silently occu- 
 pying herself in this way for some minutes, she 
 turned .suddenly on Captain Wragge. " Do I 
 surprise you?" she asked, with a startling 
 abruptness. " Do you find me changed ?" 
 
 The captain's read}' tact warned him that 
 the time had come to be plain with her, and to 
 reserve his flowers of speech for a more appro- 
 priate occasion. 
 
 "If you ask the rjuestion I must answer it," 
 he replied. "Yes; I do find you changed." 
 
 She pulled up another tuft of grass. "I 
 Jiuppose you can guess the reason ?" she said. 
 
 The captain was wisely silent. He only 
 answered by a bow. 
 
 " I have lost all care for myself," she went 
 on, tearing faster and faster at the tufts of 
 grass. " Saying that is not saying much, per- 
 haps; but it may help you to understand me. 
 There are things I would have ilied sooner 
 than do, at one time — things it would have 
 Uirncd me cold to think of. 1 don't care now 
 whether I do them or not. I am nothing to 
 my.self; I am no more interested in myself 
 
 than I am in these handfuls of gra.ss. I sup- 
 
 Sose I have lost something. What is it? 
 [eart? Conscience? I don't know. Do 
 you ? What nonsense T am talking ! Who 
 cares what I have lost ? It has gone ; and 
 there 's an end of it. I supjiosc my outside is 
 the best side of me, and that 's left at any rate. 
 I have not lost my good looks, have I ? There, 
 there! never mind answering; don't trouble 
 yourself to ]>ay nie compliments. I have been 
 admireil enough to-day. First the sailor, and 
 then ^Ir. Noel Vanstone — enough for any wo- 
 man's vanity, surely ! Have I any right to 
 call myself a woman? Perhaps not; I am 
 only a girl in my teens. Oh me, I feel as if I 
 was tbrty !" She scattered the last fragments 
 of grass to the winds; anrl, turning her t)ack 
 on the captain, let her head drop till her cheek 
 touched the turf bank. "It feels soft and 
 friendly," she said, nestling to it with a hope- 
 less tenderness horribh^ to see. " It doesn't 
 cast me off. Mother Earth I The only mother 
 I have left !" 
 
 Captain Wragge looked at her in silent sur- 
 prise. Such experience of humanity as he 
 possessed was powerless to sound to its depths 
 the terrible self-abaudoinnent which had burst 
 its way to the surface in her reckless words — 
 which was now fast hurrying her to actions 
 more reckless still. "Devilish odd !" he thought 
 to himself, uneasily. " Has the loss of her 
 lover turned her brain ?" He considered for 
 a minute longer, and then spoke to her. "Leave 
 it till to-morrow," suggested the captain, con- 
 fidentially. " You are a little tired to-night. 
 No hurry, my dear girl, no hurry." 
 
 She raised her head instantly, and looked 
 round at him with the sann^ angry resolution, 
 with the same desjieratc defiance of herself, 
 which he had seen in her face on the memora- 
 ble (lay at York when she had acted before 
 him for the first time. " I came here to tell 
 you what is in my mind," she said, " and I will 
 tell it!" She seated iiersclf upright on the 
 slope, and, clasping her hands roun<l her knees, 
 looked out steadily, straight before her, at the 
 slowly darkening view. In that strange posi- 
 tion she waited until she had compo.sed herself; 
 and then addressed the captain, without turn- 
 ing her head to look round at him, in these 
 words : 
 
 " When you and I first met," she began, 
 abruptly, "I tried hard to keep my thoughts 
 to myself I know enough by this time to 
 know that I failed. When I first told you at 
 York that Michael Vanstone had ruined us, I 
 believe vou gues-ted for yourself that I, for one, 
 was determined not to submit to it. Whether 
 you guessed or not, it is so. I left my friends 
 with that determination in my mind ; and I 
 feel it in me now stronger, ten times stronger, 
 than ever.' 
 
 " Ten times stronger than ever," echoed the 
 captain. " Exactly so — the natural result of 
 firmness of eharar^ter." 
 
 " No ; the natural re^iult of having nothing 
 
126 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 else to think of. T had something else to think 
 of before you found me ill in Vauxhall Walk. 
 I have nothing else to think of now. Remem- 
 ber that, if you find me for the future always 
 harping on the same string. One question 
 first. Did you guess what I meant to do on 
 that morning when you showed me the news- 
 paper, and when I read the account of iMiehael 
 Vanstone's death ?" 
 
 " Generally," re])Iied Captain AVragge — " I 
 guessed, gonerally, that you proposed dippinrr 
 your hand into his purse, and taking from it 
 (most properly) what was your own. I felt 
 deeply hurt at the time by your not permitting 
 me to assist you. Why is ^he so reserved with 
 me ? (I remarked to myself) — whj' is she so 
 unreasonably r.^servedV" 
 
 " You shall have no reserve to complain of 
 now," pursued Magdalen. " I tell you plainly 
 — if events had not happened as they did, 
 you ivoulff have assisted me. If Michael Van- 
 stone had not died I should have gone to 
 Brighton, and have found my way safely to 
 his acquaintance under an assumed name. I 
 had money enough with me to live on re- 
 spectably lor many months together. I would 
 have employed that time, I would have Avaited 
 a whole year if necessary, to destroy Mrs. 
 Lecount's influence over him, and I would 
 have ended by getting that influence, on my 
 own terms, into my own hands. I had the 
 advantage of years, the advantage of novelty, 
 the advantage of downi-ight desperation all 
 on my side, and I should have succeeded. 
 Before the year was out — before half the 
 year was out — you should have seen Mrs. 
 Lecount dismissed hy her master, and you 
 shoidd have seen me taken into the iiouse, 
 in her place, as Michael Vanstone's adopted 
 daughter — as the faithful friend who had saved 
 him from an adventuress in his old age. Girls 
 no older than I am have tried deceptions as 
 hopeless in appearance as mine, and have 
 carried them through to the end. I had my 
 story ready ; 1 had my plans all considered; 
 I had the weak point in that old man to attack 
 in my way, which Mrs. Leconnt had found 
 out before me to attack in hers — and I tell 
 you again I should have succeeded." 
 
 " I think you would," said the captain. 
 " And what next ?" 
 
 " Mr. Michael Vanstone would have chang- 
 ed his man of business next. You would have 
 succeeded to the place ; and those clever 
 speculations on which he was so fond of ven- 
 turing would have cost him the fortunes of 
 which he had robbed my sister and myself. 
 To the last farthing. Captain Wragge — as 
 certainly as you sit there, to the last farthing ! 
 A bold conspiracy, a shocking deception — 
 wasn't it. I don't care ! Any conspiracy, 
 any deception is justified to my conscience 
 by the vile law which has left us helpless. 
 You talked of my reserve just now. Have I 
 dropped it at last? Have I spoken out at 
 the eleventh hour ?" 
 
 The captain laid his hand solemnly on his 
 heart, and launched himself once more on his 
 broadest fiow of language. 
 
 " You fill me with unavailing regret," he 
 said. " If that old man had lived, what a 
 crop I might have reaped from him ! What 
 enormous transactions in moral agriculture it 
 might have been my privilege to carry on I 
 Ars Innga" said Captain Wragge, patheti- 
 caily drifting into Latin. — '■^ vita breois ! Let 
 us drop a tear on the lost opportunities of the 
 past, and try what the present can do to con- 
 sole, us. One conclusion is clear to my mind. 
 The experiment you proposed to try with Mr. 
 Michael Vanstone is totally hopeless, my dear 
 girl, in the ease of his son. His son is im- 
 pervious to all ordinary forms of pecuniary 
 temptation. You may trust my solemn assur- 
 ance," continued the captain, speaking with 
 an indignant recollection of the answer to his 
 advertisement in the Times, " when I inform 
 you that Mr. Noel Vanstone is emphatically 
 the meanest of mankind." 
 
 '■ I can trust my own experience as well," 
 said Magdalen. " I have seen him and spoken 
 to him — I know him better than you do. 
 Another disclosure. Captain Wragge, for your 
 private ear ! I sent you back certain articles 
 of costume — when they had served the pur- 
 pose for which I took tiiem to London. That 
 purpose was to find my way to Noel Vanstone 
 in disguise, and to judge for myself of Mrs. 
 Lecount and her master. I gained my ob- 
 ject ; and I tell you again, I know the two 
 people in that house yonder, whom we have 
 now to deal with, better than you do." 
 
 Captain Wragge expressed the profound 
 astonishment and asked the innocent ques- 
 tions appropriate to the mental condition of a 
 person taken completely by surprise. 
 
 " Well," he resumed, when Magdalen had 
 briefly answered him ; " and what is the result 
 on your own mind ? There must be a result, 
 or we should not be here. You see your 
 way ? Of course, my dear girl, you see your 
 way '?" 
 
 " Yes," she said, quickly ; " I see my way." 
 
 The captain drew a little nearer to her, 
 with eager curiosity expressed in every line 
 of his vagabond face. 
 
 '* Go on," he said, in an anxious whisner; 
 " P''^y go on." 
 
 She looked out thoughtfully into tht gath- 
 ering darkness without answering, without 
 appearing to have heard him. Her lips closed, 
 and her clasped hands tighteaed mechanically 
 round her knees. 
 
 '• Tliere is no disguising the fact,"* said Cap- 
 tain Wragge, warily rousing her into speaking 
 to him. " The son is hardvsr to deal with than 
 the father — " 
 
 " Not in my way, ' she interposed, suddenly. 
 
 " Indeed !" said the captain. " Well ! they 
 say there is a short cut to everything, if we 
 only look long enough to find it. You have 
 looked long enough, I suppose ; and the natu- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 127 
 
 ral result has followed — you have found it." 
 
 "I have not t7-ouhlcd myself to look; I 
 have found it without lookinjr.' 
 
 "The deuce jou have!" cried Captain 
 Wra<!ge, in trreat perplexity. " My dear jjirl, 
 is my view of your ])i-esent position leading 
 me altogether astray ? As i understand it, 
 here is Mr. Noel Vanstone in po.ssession of 
 j-our fortune and your sister's, as his father 
 was — and determined to keep it, as his father 
 Avas V" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And here are you — quite hel])loss to get 
 it by jM-nsuasiou ; (juite helpless to get it by 
 law — just as resolute in his case as you were 
 in Ills father's to take it by stratagem in s]Mte 
 of him ?'' 
 
 " Just as resolute. Not for the sake of 
 the fortune — mind that! For the sake of the 
 right." 
 
 " Just so. And the means of coining at 
 that right, which were hard with the father — 
 who was not a miser — are easy with the son, 
 who is ?" 
 
 " Perfectly easy." 
 
 " Write me down an Ass for the first time 
 in my life !" cried the captain, at th.e end of 
 his patience. " Hang me if I know what 
 you mean !" 
 
 " She looked round at him for the first 
 time — looked him straight and steadily in the 
 face. 
 
 " I will tell you what I moan," she said ; " I 
 mean to marry him." 
 
 Captain Wragge started up on his knees, 
 and stopjied on them, jietrified by astouish- 
 mcnt. 
 
 *' Remember what I told you," said Magda- 
 len, looking away liom him again. "I have 
 lost all cai'e for myself I have only one end 
 in life now, and the .sooner I reach it — and 
 die — the better. If — " She stopped, altered 
 her ])osiiio» a little, and pointed with one 
 hand to the fast-ebbing stream beneath her, 
 gleaming dim in the darkening twiliglu — "if 
 I had been what I once was, I would have 
 thrown myself into that river sooner than do 
 Avhat I am going to do now. As it is, I trouble 
 myself no longer; I weary my mind with no 
 more sclu-mes. Tlic short way, and the vile 
 way, Vie^ before me. I take it. Captain 
 Wragge — and marry him." 
 
 " Keeping him in total ignorance of who 
 you are V" said the captain, slowly rising to 
 his feet, and slowly moving round so as to .sec 
 her face. " Marrying him as my niece — Miss 
 Hygrave V 
 
 " A.S your niece, Miss Bygrave." 
 
 " And after the marriage?" His voice fal- 
 tered as he began the question, and he left it 
 unfinished. 
 
 " After the marriage," ihc said, " I shall 
 Btand in no further nee<lofyour assistance." 
 
 The captain stooped as she gave liim that 
 answer, looked close at her, and suddenly 
 drew back without uttering a word. He 
 
 walked away some paces, an<l sat down again 
 lioggedly on the grass, li' JMagdalen could 
 have seen his face in the dying light, his face 
 would have startled her. For the first time, 
 probably, since his boyhood Captain Wragge 
 had changed color. He was deadly pale. 
 
 " Have you nothing to say to mt> ?" she 
 asked. "Perhaps you are waiting to hear 
 what terms I have to oiler? These are my 
 terms. I j)ay all our expenses here ; and 
 when we part, on the day of the marriage, 
 }on take a farewell gift away with you of two 
 hundred pounds. Do you promise nu; your 
 assistance on those conditions?" 
 
 "What am I expected to do?" he asked, 
 with a furtive look at her, and a sudden dis- 
 trust in his voice. 
 
 " You are expected to preserve my assunu;d 
 character and your own," she answered; "and 
 you are to prevent any intpiii-ies of JMrs. Le- 
 count's from discovering who I really am. I 
 ask no more. The r(>st is my responsibility, 
 not yours. ' 
 
 " I have nothing to do with what happens — 
 at any time or in any ])\:\cc. — after tlie mar- 
 riage V" 
 
 " Nothing whatever." 
 
 "I may leave you at the church-door, if I 
 please ?" 
 
 " At the church-door, with your fee in your 
 pocket." 
 
 " Paid from the money in }our own pos- 
 session ?" 
 
 " Certainly ! How else should I pay it ?" 
 
 Captain ^V'^ragge took oif his hat, and jjassed 
 his handkerchief over his face with an air of 
 relief 
 
 " Give me a minute to consider it," lu; said. 
 
 " As many minutes as you like," she re- 
 joined, reclining on the bank in her former 
 position, and rt;turning to her former oci-upa- 
 tion of tearing up the tufts of grass and fling- 
 ing them out into the air. 
 
 The captain's reflections were not compli- 
 cated by any nnnece.'^sary divergencies from 
 the contemplation of his own position to the 
 contemplation of Magdalcn'.s. I'tlerly inca- 
 ])able of appreciating tin; injury done iier by 
 Fi'ank's infamous treai'hery to his engage- 
 ment — an injury which had severed her at 
 one cruel blow from the aspiration Aviiich, de- 
 lusion though it was, had been tlie saving 
 aspiration ot her life — Captain Wragge ac- 
 eej)ted the simple fact of her despair just as ho 
 found it, and tiien looked straight to the con- 
 se(piences of the proposal which she had mado 
 to liim. 
 
 In the jirospect before the marriage he saw 
 nothing more serious involved than the prac- 
 tice of a deception, in no important degree 
 diflerent — except in the end to be attained by 
 it — from the deceptions which Wm vagabond 
 life had long since accustomed him to contem- 
 plate and to carry out. In the prospect u/irr 
 ihe marriage he dimly discerned, through tlio 
 
128 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 ominous darknctis of tlie future, the lurking 
 phantoms of Terror and Crime, and the black 
 gulfs behind them of Ruin and Death. A 
 man of boundless audacity and resource witliiu 
 his own mean limits, beyond those limits the 
 captain was as deferentially submissive to the 
 majesty of the law as the most harmless man 
 in existence; as cautious in looking after liis 
 own personal safety as the veriest coward that 
 ever walked the earth. But one serious ques- 
 tion now filled his mind. Could he, on the 
 terms proposed to him, join the conspiracy 
 against Noel Vanstone up to the point of the 
 marriage, and then withdraw from it, without 
 risk of involving himself in the consequences 
 which his experience told him must certainly 
 ensue ? 
 
 Strange as it may seem, his decision In this 
 emergency was mainly influenced by no less a 
 person than Mr. Noel Vanstone himself. The 
 captain might have resisted the money-offer 
 which Magdalen had made to him — for the 
 profits of the Entertainment had filled his 
 pockets with more than three times two hun- 
 dred pounds. But the prospect of dealing a 
 blow in the dark at the man who had esti- 
 mated his information and himself at the value 
 of a five-pound note proved too much for his 
 cai tion and his self-control. On the small 
 neutral ground of self-importance the best 
 men and the worst meet on the same terms. 
 Captain Wragge's indignation when he saw 
 the answer to his advertisement stooped to no 
 retrospective estimate of his own conduct : 
 he was as deeply offended, as sincerely angry, 
 as if he had made a perfectly honorable 
 proposal, and had been rewarded for It by 
 a personal Insult. He had been too full of 
 his own grievance to keep It out of his first 
 letter to Alagdalen. He had more or less for- 
 gotten himself on every subsequent occasion 
 when Noel Vanstone's name was mentioned. 
 And, in now finally deciding the course he 
 should take, it is not too much to say that the 
 motive of money receded, for the first time in 
 his life, Into the second place, and the motive 
 of malice carried the day. 
 
 "I accept the terms," said Captain Wragge, 
 getting briskly on his legs again. " Subject, 
 of course, to the conditions agreed on between 
 us. We part on the wedding-day. I don't 
 ask where you go : you don't ask where I go. 
 From that time forth we are strangers to each 
 other." 
 
 Magdalen rose slowly from the mound. A 
 hopeless depression, a sullen despair, showed 
 Itself in her look and manner. She refused 
 the captain's offered hand ; and her tones, 
 when she answered him, were so low that he 
 could hardly hear her. 
 
 " We understand each other," she said ; 
 •' and we can now go back. Yon may intro- 
 (iuce me to Mrs. Lecount to-morrow ! " 
 
 " I must ask a few questions first,' said the 
 captain, gravely. *' There are more risks to 
 
 I be run in this matter, and more pitfalls in our 
 j way, than you seem to suppose. I must know 
 i the whole history of your morning call on Mrs. 
 i Lecount before I put you and that woman on 
 j speaking terms with each other." 
 j " Wait till to-morrow," she broke out, Im- 
 ' patiently. •' Don't madden me by talking 
 ! about it to-night." 
 
 j The captain said no more. They turned 
 ! their faces toward Aldborough, and walked 
 i slowly back. 
 
 I By the time they reached the houses night 
 I had overtaken them. Neither moon nor stars 
 were visible. A faint, noiseless breeze, blow- 
 ing from the land, had come with the dark- 
 ness. Magdalen paused on the lonely public 
 walk to breathe the air more freely. After a 
 while she turned her face from the breeze and 
 looked out toward the sea. The immeasura- 
 ble silence of the calm waters, lost in the 
 black void of night, was awful. She stood 
 looking into the darkness, as if Its mystery had 
 no secrets for her — she advanced toward it 
 slowly, as if it drew her by some hidden at- 
 traction into Itself. 
 
 •• I am going down to the sea," she said to 
 her companion. " Wait here, and I will coma 
 back." 
 
 He lost sight of her In an instant —it was as 
 if the night had swallowed her up. He listen- 
 ed, and counted her footsteps by the crashing 
 of them on the shingle in the deep stillness. 
 They retreated slowly, farther and farther 
 away into the night. Suddenly the sound of 
 them ceased. Had she paused on her course '? 
 or had she reached one of the strips of sand 
 left bare by the ebbing tide '? 
 
 He waited and listened anxiously. The 
 time passed, and no sound reached him. He 
 still listened with a growing distrust of the 
 darkness. Another moment, and there came 
 a sound from the invisible shore. Far and 
 faint from the beach below, a long cry moaned 
 through the silence. Then all was still once 
 more. 
 
 In sudden alarm he stepped forward to de- 
 scend to the beach and to call her. Before he 
 could cross the path footsteps rapidly advanc- 
 ing caught his ear. He waited an instant, and 
 the figure of a man passed quickly along the 
 walk between him and the sea. It was too 
 dark to discern anything of the stranger's 
 face ; It was only possible to see that he was a 
 tall man, as tall as that officer in the merchant 
 service whose name was Kirke. 
 
 The figure passed on northward and was 
 instantly lost to view. Captain Wragge cross- 
 ed the path, and advancing a few steps down 
 the beach stopped and listened again. The 
 crash of footsteps on the shingle caught his 
 ear once more. Slowly as the sound had left 
 him that sound now came back. He called to 
 guide her to him. She came on till he could 
 just see her — a shadow ascending the shingly 
 slope, and growing out of the blackness of the 
 night. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 120 
 
 " You alarmed me," he whispered, nervous- 
 ly. " I was afraid something: had happened. 
 I heard you cry out, as it' you were in pain." 
 
 " Did you ?" she said, carelessly, " I rcas in 
 pain. It doesn't matter — it 's over now." 
 
 Her hand meclianically swunsr somethinj; to 
 and fro as she answered iiiui. It was the little 
 white silk basr wliich slie had always kept hid- 
 den in her bosom up to tliis time. One of the 
 relics which it lield — one of the relics which 
 she had not had the lU'art to part with before 
 — was !>one from its keepin;j for ever. Alone 
 on a strange shore, she Iiad torn from her the 
 fondest of lier vir^jin memories, the di'arest of 
 her virgin hopes. Alone on a strange shore, 
 she had taken the lock of Frank's hair Irom 
 its once-treasured place, and had cast it away 
 from her to the sea and the night. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The tall man wlio had passed Captain 
 Wragge in the dark ))roceed('d rapidly along 
 tlic public walk, struck off across a little waste 
 patcli of ground, and entered the open door of 
 the Aldborough Hotel. The light in the pas- 
 sage, falling full on his face as he passed it, 
 proved the truth of Captain Wragge's sur- 
 mise, and showed the stranger to be Mr. 
 Kirke, of the merchant service. 
 
 ]\Iccting the landlord in the p;issage, ]\Ir. 
 Kirke nodded to him with the familiarity of 
 an old customer. " Have you got the paper V" 
 he asked: "I want to look at the visitors' 
 list." 
 
 " I have got it in mv room. Sir," said the 
 landlord, leading the w,iy into a parlor at the 
 ba(;k of the house. " Are there any friends 
 of yours staying here, do you think V" 
 
 AVithout replying, the seaman turned to the 
 list, as soon as the newspaper was placed in 
 his hand, and ran his finger down it name by 
 name. The finger suddenly stopped at this 
 line; " Sea- View Cottage; Mr. Noel Vanstone." 
 Kirke, of the merchant service, repeated the 
 name to himself, and put down the paper 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Have you found anybody you know, cap- 
 tain y asked the landlord. 
 
 I have i'ound a name I know — a name my 
 father used often to speak of in his time. Is 
 this Mr. Vanstone a family man ? Do you 
 know if there is a young lady in the house ?" 
 
 " I can't .say. captain. My wife will be here 
 directly: she is sure to know. It must have 
 been some time ago, if your father knew thi.s 
 Mr. Vanstone ".•'" 
 
 " It was some time ago. M)' father knew a 
 subaltern officer of that name when lie was 
 with his regiment in Canada. It would be 
 curious if the person here turned out to be 
 the same man, and if that young lady was his 
 daughter." 
 
 "Itixcuse mc, captain ; but the young lady 
 17 
 
 seems to hang a little on your mind," said the 
 landlord, with a pleasant smile. 
 
 Mr. Kirke looked as if the form which his 
 host's good humor had just taken was not 
 quite to his mind. He turned abruptly to the 
 subaltern officer and the regiment in Canada. 
 " That poor fellow's story was as miserable a 
 one as ever I heard," he said, looking back 
 again absently at the visitors' list. 
 
 " Would there be any harm in telling it. 
 Sir?" asked the landlord. '• Miserable or not 
 — a story 's a story, when you know it to be 
 true." 
 
 Mr. Kirke hesitateil. " I hardly think I 
 should be doing right to tell it," he said. " If 
 this man or any relations of his are still alive, 
 it is not a story they might like strangers to 
 know. All I can tell you is that my father 
 was the salvation of that young officer under 
 very dreadful circumstances. They parted in 
 Canada. My father remained with his regi- 
 ment; the young officer sold out and returned 
 to England ; and from that moment they lost 
 sight of each other. It would be cui-ious if 
 this Vanstone here was the same man. It 
 would be curious — " 
 
 He suddenly checked himself, just as an- 
 other reference to " the young lady " was on 
 the point of passing his lips. At the same 
 moment the landlord's Avile came in, .and Mr. 
 Kirke at once transferred his inquiries to the 
 higher authority in the house. 
 
 " Do you know anything of this Mr. Van- 
 stone who is down here on the visitors' list?" 
 asked the sailor. " Is he an old man ?" 
 
 " He 's a miserable little creature to look 
 at," rei)lied the landlady ; " but he 's not old, 
 captain !" 
 
 " Then he is not the man I mean. Perhaps 
 he is the man's son ? Has he got any ladies 
 with him ?" 
 
 • 'The landlady tossed her head, and pursed 
 up her lips disparagingly. 
 
 " He has a housekeeper with him," she 
 said ; " a middle-aged person — not one of my 
 sort. I dare say I 'm wrong; but I don't like 
 a dressy woman in her station of life." 
 
 Mr. kirke began to look puzzled. " I must 
 have made sonic mistake about the house," ho 
 said. " Surely, there 's a lawn cut octagon- 
 shape at Sea-View Cottage, and a white flag>- 
 stalf in the middle of the gravel-walk ?" 
 
 "That 's not Sea-View, Sir! It's North 
 Shingles you 're talking of — Mr. Bygrave'.«. 
 His wife and his niece came here by the coach 
 to-day. His wife, 's tall enough to be put in a 
 show, and the worst-dressed woman I ever set 
 eyes on. But Miiis Bygrave is worth looking 
 at, if I may venture to say so. She 's the 
 finest girl, to my mind, we 've had at Aldbor- 
 ough for many a long day. I wonder who 
 they are I Do you know the name, captain ?" 
 
 " No," .said ]\Ir. Kirke, witli a shade of dis- 
 appointment on his dark, weather-beaten face; 
 '• I never heard the name before." 
 
 After replying in those wordi he ro»e to 
 
130 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 taku his leave. The landlord vainly invited 
 liim to drink a parting glass; the landlady 
 vainly pressed him to ytay another ten min- 
 ntes, and try a cup of tea. He only replied 
 tha^ bis sister expected him, and that he must 
 leturn to the parsonage immediately. 
 
 On leaving the hotel, Mr. Kirke set his 
 face westward, and walked inland along the 
 high-road as fast as the darkness would let 
 him. 
 
 "Bygrave?" he thought to himself. "Now 
 I know her name, how much am I the wiser lor 
 it ! If it had been Yanstone, my father's son 
 might have had a chance of making acquaint- 
 ance with her." He stopped and looked back 
 in the direction of Aldborough. "What a tool 
 I am!" he burst out suddetdy, striking his 
 stick on the ground. " I was Ibrty last birth- 
 day." He turned, and went on again faster 
 than ever — his head down, his resolute black 
 eyes searching the darkness on the land as 
 they had searched it many a time on the sea 
 from the deck of his ship. • 
 
 After more than an hour's walking, he 
 reached a village, with a primitive little church 
 and jjarsonage nestled together in a hollow. 
 11? entered the house by the back Avay, and 
 found his sister, the clergyman's wife, sitting 
 alone over h<ir work in tlie parlor. 
 
 " AVhere is your husband, Lizzie?" he 
 asked, taking a chair in a corner. 
 
 " William lias gone out to see a sick person. 
 He hail just time enough before he went,' 
 she added, with a smile, "to tell me about the 
 young lady; and he declares he will never 
 trust himself at Aldborough with you again 
 until you are a steady married man." Slie 
 stopped and looked at her brother more at- 
 tentively than she had looked at him j-et. 
 "KobertI" she said, laying aside her work, 
 and suddenly crossing the room to him— "you 
 look an.xious, you look distressed. William 
 only laughed about your meeting with the 
 joung lady. Is it serious? Tell me what is 
 she like ?" 
 
 He turned his head away at the question. 
 
 She took a stool at his feet, and persisted in 
 looking up at him. "Is it serious, Robert ? " 
 she repeated, softly. 
 
 Kirke's weather-beaten face was accustom- 
 ed to no concealments — it answered for him 
 before he spoke a •word. " Don't tell your 
 husband till I am gone," he said, with a rough- 
 ness quite new in his sister's experience of 
 him. " I know I only deserve to be laughed 
 at, but it hurts me for all that." 
 
 " Hurts you ? " she i-epeated in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " You can't think me half such a fool, Liz- 
 zie, as I think myself," pursued Kirke, bitter- 
 ly. "A man at my age ought to know better. 
 I didn't set eyes on her for as much as a min- 
 ute altogether ; and there I have been hang- 
 ing about the place till after nightfall on the 
 chance of seeing her again — skulking, I shonld 
 have called it, if I bad found one of my men 
 
 doing what I have been doing myself. I be- 
 lieve I "m bewitched. She 's a nu're girl, Liz- 
 zie — I doubt if she 's out of her teens; I 'm 
 old enough to be her father. It 's all one ; 
 she stops in my mind in spite of me. I 've 
 had her face looking at me through the pitch 
 darkness every step of the way to this house; 
 and it "s looking at me now, as plain as I see 
 yours, and ])lainer." 
 
 He rose impatiently, and began to walk 
 backward and forward in the room. His sis- 
 ter looked after him with surprise as well aa 
 sympathy expressed in her face. From his 
 boyhooil upward she had always been accus- 
 tomed to see iiim master of himself. Years 
 since, in the failing ibrtunes of the family, he 
 had been their example and their support. 
 She had heard of him in the desperate emer- 
 gencies of a life at sen, when hundreds of his 
 fellow-creatures had looked to his steady self- 
 pos.session for i-escue from close - threatening 
 death, and had not looked in vain. Never in 
 ail her life betore had his sister seen the bal- 
 ance of that calm and equal mind lost as she 
 saw it lost now. 
 
 " How can you talk so unreasonably about 
 your age and yourself?" she said. "There 
 is not a woman .^live, Robert, who is good 
 enough for you. What is her name ? " 
 
 " Bygrave. Do you know it ? " 
 
 " iSIo; but I might soon make acquaintance 
 with her. If we only had a little tune before 
 us; if I could only get to Aldliorough and see 
 her. But you are going away to-morrow; 
 your ship sails at the end of the week." 
 
 " Thank God lor that ! " said Kirke fer- 
 vently. 
 
 "Are you glad to be going away?" she 
 asked, more and more amazed at him. 
 
 "Right glad, Lizzie, ibr my own sake. If 
 I ever get to my senses again I shall find my 
 way back to them on the deck of my ship. 
 This girl has got between me and my thoughts 
 already ; she shan't go a step further, and 
 get between me and my duty. I 'm deter- 
 mined on that. Fool as I am, I have sense 
 enough left not to trust myself within easy 
 hail of Aldborough to-morrow morning. I 'm 
 good for another twenty miles ot' walking, and 
 I '11 begin my joui-ney back to-night." 
 
 His sister starred up, and caught him fast by 
 the arm. " Robert!" she exclaimed ; "you 're 
 not serious? You don't mean to leave us on 
 foot alone in the dark ? " 
 
 " It 's only saying fjood-by, my dear, the last 
 thing at night instead of the first thing in the 
 morning," he answered, with a smile. " Try 
 and make allowances for me, l^izzie. My life 
 has been passed at sea, and I 'm not used to 
 having my mind upset in tliis way. Men 
 ashore are used to it ; men asliore can take it 
 easy. I can't. If I stopped here, I shouldn't 
 rest. If I waited till to-morrow, I should only 
 be going back to have another look at her. I 
 don't want to feel more ashamed of myself 
 thau I do already. I want to fight my way 
 
NO NAI^IK. 
 
 131 
 
 back to my duty and myself without stopping: 
 to think twici! about it. Darkness is nothing 
 to me — I AM usi'd to darkness. I have got the 
 ]ii<rh-road to walk on, and I can't lose my way. 
 Let me go, Lizzie ! The only sweetheart I 
 have any business with at my age is my ship. 
 Let me get back to her ! " 
 
 His sister srill kept her hold ofliis arm, and 
 still pleailod wirh him to stay till the morning. 
 He listened to her with perfect patience and 
 kindness, but she never shook his determina- 
 tion for an instant. 
 
 "What am I to say to William?" she 
 pleaded. " What will he think when he 
 comcj* back and finds you gone ? " 
 
 " Tell him I have taken the advice he gave 
 us in his sermon last Sunday. I have turned my 
 back on the world, the flesh, and the devil." 
 
 " How can you talk so, Robert ? And the 
 bovs too — you promised not to go without bid- 
 ding the boys gooil-by." 
 
 " That 's true. I made my little nephews a 
 promise, and I '11 keej) it." He kicked ofl" his 
 shoes as he spoke on the mat outside the door. 
 " Li_dit me up stairs. Lizzie; I '11 bid the two 
 boys good-liy without waking them." 
 
 Shd saw the uselessness of resisting him any 
 longer, and, taking the candle, went before 
 him up stairs. 
 
 The boy.s — both young children — were sleep- 
 ing together in the s.ime bed. The youngest 
 was his uncle's f;vvorite, and was calliMl by his 
 uncle's name. He lay peacefully asleep, with 
 a rough little toy ship hugged fast in his arms. 
 Kirke's eyus sotLened as he stole on tip-toe to 
 the child's siile and kissed him with the gentle- 
 ness of a woman. " Poor little man !" said the 
 sailor, tenderly; " he is as fond of his ship as 
 I was at his ag(\ I 'II cut him out a better one 
 when I cnn'.e i^ack. Will you give nie my 
 nephew one of these days, Lizzie, and will you 
 let me make a sailor of him ';*" 
 
 " Oh, Rnl)ert, if you wor(> only married and 
 happy, as I am !" 
 
 "The time ha^* gone by, my dear. I must 
 make the best of it as I am, with my little 
 ne])hew thert^ to help me." 
 
 1I(! left tli(! room. His sister's tears fell fast 
 as she lollowed him into the parlor. " There 
 is somcthinir so forlorn and dreadful in your 
 leaving us like thi.^" she said. •' Siiall I go to 
 Aldi)orougii tn-inorro>v, Robert, and try if I 
 can get anjuainted with her for your sake ?" 
 
 "No!' lie rcjilied. "Let her be. If it 's 
 ordered that I am to see that girl again, I sfinll 
 see her. Leave it to the futine. and you leave 
 it right." He put on his shoes, and look up his 
 hnt and stick. " I won't overwalk myself," he 
 said, cheerfully. " If the coach doesn't over- 
 take me on the road. I can wait for it where I 
 stop to breakfast. Dry your eyes, my dear, 
 and give me a kiss." 
 
 She was like her brother in features and 
 complexion, and she had a touch of her broth- 
 er's spirit — siji- dashed away the tears, and took 
 her leavo of him bravely. 
 
 " I shall be back in a year's time," said 
 Kirke, falling into his old sailor-like way at the 
 door. " I '11 bring you a China shawl, Lizzie, 
 and a chest of tva, tor your storeroom. Don't 
 let the boys forget me, and don't think I 'm 
 doing wrong to leave you in this way. I know 
 I 'm doing right. Clod bless you ami keep you, 
 my dear — and your husband, and your chil- 
 dren ! Good-by !" 
 
 He stooped and kissed her. She ran to the 
 door to look after him. A puff of air e.vtin- 
 gnished the candle, and the black night shut 
 him out from her in an instant. 
 
 Three days afterward the first-class mer- 
 chantman l)e!iverancp-^K'irki\ commander — 
 sailed from Lon<lon for the China Sea. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 The threatening of storm and change passed 
 away with the night. When morning rose over 
 Aldborough the sun was master in the blue 
 heaven, and the waves were rippling gayly 
 under the summer breeze. 
 
 At an hour when no other visitors to the 
 watering-place were ytt astir the indefatigalilc 
 Wragge appeared at the door of North Si;Ia- 
 gles V^illa, and directed his steps northward, 
 with a neatly bound copy of Joyce's " Scien- 
 tific Dialogues ' in his hand. Arriving at t)ic 
 waste ground beyond the houses, he descended 
 to the beach and opened his book. The inter- 
 view of the past night had sharpened his per- 
 ception of the difhculties to be encounteretl in 
 the coming enterprise. He was now doubly 
 determined to try the characteristic experi- 
 ment at which he had hinted in iiis letter to 
 Magdalen, and to concentrate on himself — in 
 the chanacter of a remarkably well-intbrmed 
 man — the entire interest and attention of the 
 formidable Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 Having taken his dose of ready-made science 
 (to use his own expression') the first thing hi 
 the morning on an empty stomach. Captain 
 Wragge joined his small t'amily circle at break- 
 fast-time inflated with information for the, day. 
 He observed that Magdal-n's face showed 
 plain signs of a sleepless night. She made no 
 complaint: her manner was lomposed, and iier 
 temper perfectly under control. Mrs. Wragge 
 — refreshed bv some thirteen lonsecutive hoiu's 
 of uninterrupted repose — was in excellent 
 spirits, and up at heel (for a wonder) with 
 both shoes. She brought with her into the 
 room several large sheets of tissue paper, cut 
 crisply into mysterious an<l many - varying 
 forms, which immediately provoked from her 
 husband the short and sharp question, " What 
 have you got there ?" 
 
 " Patterns, captain," said Mrs. Wragge, in 
 timidly conciliating tones. " I went shopi)ing 
 in London, and bought an Oriental Cashmere 
 Kobe. It coat a dual of moa*y, and I 'm going 
 
1S2 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 to try and save by making it myself. I 'A'e got | of a man who was more annoyed than amused 
 my patterns, and my dress-making directions j by Avliut he heard. When she had done, he 
 
 written out as plain as print. 1 '11 be vei-y 
 tidy, captain ; I '11 keep in my own corner, if 
 you '11 please to give nie one ; and whether 
 my head Buzzes, or whether it don't, I '11 sit 
 straight at my work all the same.' 
 
 " You will do your work," said the captain, 
 sternly, " when you know who yon are, who I 
 am, and who that young lady is — not hclbre. 
 Show me your shoes ! C4ood. Siiow me your 
 cap! Good! Make the breaki'ast." 
 
 When breakfast was over Mrs. Wragge re- 
 ceived her orders to retire to an adjoining 
 room,, and to wait there until her husband 
 came to release her. As soon as her back was 
 turned Captain Wragge at once resumed the 
 conversation wdiich had been suspended, by 
 Magdalen's own desire, on the preceding night. 
 The questions he now put to her all related to 
 the subject of her visit in disguise to Noel 
 Vanstone's house. They were the questions 
 of a thoroughly clear-headed man — short. 
 
 plainly told her that her unlucky meeting 
 on the stairs of the lodging-liouse with Mrs. 
 Wragge was, in his opinion, the most serious 
 of all the accidents that ha<l happened ia 
 Vauxhall Walk. 
 
 '• 1 can deal Avith the difficulty of my Avife's 
 stupidity," he said, "as 1 have often dealt 
 Avitli it before. I can hammer her new iden- 
 tity inlu her head, but I cant hammer the 
 g])ost out of it. We have no security that the 
 Avoman in the gray cloak and poke bonnet 
 may not come back to her recollection at 
 the most critical time and under the most 
 awkward circumstances. In plain English, 
 my dear girl, Mrs. "Wragge is a pitfall under 
 our feet at every step Ave take." 
 
 " If Ave are aAvare of the pitfall." said Mag- 
 dalen, " we can take our measuies for avoid- 
 ing it. What do you propose ':"' 
 
 " I propose," replied the captain, "the tem- 
 porary removal of Mrs. Wr;igge. Speaking 
 searching, and straight to the point. In less j purely in a pecuniary point of vieAv, I can't 
 than half an hour's time he had made himself j ailbrd a total separation from her. You liave 
 
 acquainted Avith every incident that had hap 
 pened in Vauxhall Walk. 
 
 The conclusions Avhich the captain drew after 
 gaining his information Avere clear and easily 
 stated. 
 
 On the adverse side of the qu(\stion, ho ex- 
 pressed his conviction that Mi-s. Lecount had 
 certainly detected her visitor to be disguised ; 
 that she had never really left the room, 
 though she might have opened and shut the 
 door; and that on both the occasions, there- 
 fore, Avhen Magdalen had been betrayed into 
 speaking in her oAvn voice, Mrs. Lesount had 
 
 often i-ead of very poor people being sud- 
 denly enriched by legacies reaching them 
 from remote and unexpected quarters ? Mrs. 
 Wragge's case, Avhen I married her, Avas one 
 of tliese. An elderly female relative shared 
 tiie tavors of fortune on that occasion Avith my 
 Avife ; and if I only keep up domestic appear- 
 ances, I happen to know that Mrs. Wragge 
 Avill prove a second time profitable to me 
 on that elderly relative's death. But for this 
 circumstance I should probably long since 
 have transferred my Avife to the care of so- 
 ciety at large, in the a<>Teeable conviction 
 
 heard her. On the favorable side of tlie ' that if I didn't support her somebody else 
 question, he was perfectly satisfied that the j Avould. Although 1 can't afford to take this 
 painted face and eyelids, the Avig, and the course, I see no objection to having her com- 
 padded cloak had so effectually concealed | ibrtably boarded and lodged out of our way 
 Magdalen's identity, that she might, in her jlbr the time being — say at a retired farm-house 
 
 own person, defy the housekeeper's closest 
 scrutiny, so far as the matter of appearance 
 Avas concerned. The difficulty of deceiving 
 
 in tlie character of a lady in infirm mental 
 health. You Avould find the expense trifling; 
 / should find the relief unutterable. What 
 
 Mrs. Lecount's ears, as Avell as her eyes, Avas, , do you say V Shall I pack iier up at once, 
 
 he readily admitted, not so easily to be dis 
 posed of. But looking to the fact that Mag- 
 dalen, on both the occasions Avhen she had 
 forgotten herself, had spoken in the heat of 
 anger, he Avas of opinion that her voice had 
 every reasonable chance of escaping detec- 
 tion if she carefully avoided all outbursts of 
 temper for the iuture, and spoke in those 
 more composed and ordinary tones of her 
 voice which Mrs. Lecount had not yet heard. 
 Upon the whole, the captain was inclined 
 to pronounce the pro-ipect hopeful if one se- 
 rious obstacle Avere cleared aAvay at the out- 
 set — that obstacle being nothing less than 
 the presence on the scene of action of Mrs. 
 Wragge. 
 
 To Magdalen's surprise, Avhen the course of 
 her narrative brought her to tlie story of the 
 ghost, Captain Wragge listened Avith the air 
 
 and take her aAvay by the next coach V 
 
 "No!" replied' Magdalen, firmly. "The 
 poor creature's life is hard enough already; 
 I Avon't help to make it harder. She was 
 affectionately and truly kind to me Avhen I 
 Avas ill, and I Avon't aliow her to be shut up 
 among strangers Avhile I can help it. The 
 risk of kee]>ing het^ here is only one risk 
 more. I Avill face it, Captain Wragge, if you 
 Avon't." 
 
 " Tiiink tAvice," said the captain, gravely, 
 "befbre you decide on keeping Mrs. Wragge." 
 
 " Once is enough," rejoined Magdalen. " I 
 Avon't have her sent aAvay." 
 
 " Very good," said the captain, resignedly. 
 " I never interfere Avith questions of senti- 
 ment. But I have a Avord to say on my oAvn 
 behalf. If my services are to be of any use to 
 you, I can't have my hands tied at starting. 
 
NO NAaiE. 
 
 13S 
 
 This is serious. I won't trust my wife and 
 Mrs. Lccouiit toffether. I 'm afraid, if you 're 
 not ; and I make it a condition that if Mrs. 
 Wragjre stops here she keeps her room. It' 
 yon think lier liealth requires it, yon can take 
 her for a walk early in the niorninjr or kite in 
 the evening ; but you must never trust lier out 
 with the servant, and nevt'r trust her out 
 by herself. I put the matter phiinly : it is too 
 important to be trifled with. Wiiat do you 
 say — yes or no ?" 
 
 " I sav ves," replied i\Iagdalen, after a mo- 
 ment's consideration, "on the nnderstanding 
 that I am to lake her out walking as you pro- 
 pose."' 
 
 Ca]itain Wragge bowed, and recovered his 
 suavitv of manner. " What are our plans V" 
 he inquired. " Shall we start our enterprise 
 this afternoon ? Are you ready for your intro- 
 duction to ]\Irs. Lecount and her master ?" 
 
 " Quite ready." 
 
 " Good again. We Avill meet them on the 
 Parade at their usual liour for going out — two 
 o'clock. It is not twelve yet. I have two 
 hours before me — just time enough to lit my 
 wife into her new Skin. The process is abso- 
 lutely necessary to prevent her compromising 
 us with the servant. Don't be afraid about 
 the results ; Mrs. Wragge has had a copious 
 selection of assumed names hammered into 
 her head in the course of lier matrimonial 
 career. It is merely a question of hammering 
 hard enough — nothing more. I think we have 
 settled eM'rything now. Is there anything I 
 can do before two o'clock ? Have you any 
 employment for the morning?" 
 
 " No," said ]\Iagdaien. " I shall go back to 
 my own room and try to rest." 
 
 *' You had a disturbed night, I am afraid V" 
 said the captain, politely 0])ening the door for 
 her. 
 
 " I fell asleep once or tAvice," she answered, 
 carelessly. " I suppose my nerves are a little 
 shaken. The bold black eyes of that man who 
 stared so rudely at me yesterday evening 
 seemed to be looking at me again in my 
 dreams. If we see liim to-day, and if he an- 
 noys me any more, I must troid)le tou to speak 
 to him. ^Ve will mec-t hen' again at two 
 o'clock. Don't be hard with Mrs. Wragge ; 
 teach her what she must learn as tenderly as 
 you can." 
 
 With those words she left him and went up 
 stairs. 
 
 She lay down on her bed with a heavy 
 sigh, and fried to sleep. It was useless. The 
 dull weariness of herself which now possessed 
 her was not the weariness which finds its 
 remedy in repose. She rose again and sat by 
 the window, looking out listlessly over the sea. 
 
 A weaker nature than hers would not have 
 felt the shock of Frank's desertion as she had 
 felt it — as she was feeling it still. A weaker 
 nature would have found refuge in indigna- 
 tion, and comfort in tears. The jiassionate 
 «trt>ugtb of Magdaluu's lovu clung desperately 
 
 to the sinkincc wreck of its own delusion — 
 clung, until she tore herself from it by main 
 force of Avill. All that her native pride, her 
 keen sense of wrong could do, ivas to shame 
 her from dwelling on the thoughts which still 
 caught their breath of life from the undying 
 devotion of the past; which still perversely 
 ascribed Frank's heartless farewell to any 
 cause but the inborn baseness of the man 
 who ha<l written it. The woman never lived 
 yet who could cast a true love out of her 
 heart because the object of that love was un- 
 worthy of her. All she can <lo is to struggle 
 against it in secret — to sink in the contest, if 
 she is weak ; to win her Avay through it, if 
 she is strong, by a process of self-laceration 
 which is, of all moral remedies applied to a 
 woman's nature, the most dangerous and the 
 most desperate ; of all moral changes the 
 change that is surest to mark her for life. 
 jNIagdalen's strong nature had sustained her 
 through the struggle, and the issue of it had 
 left her what she now was. 
 
 After sitting by the window for nearly an 
 hour — her eyes looking mechanically at the 
 view, her mind empty of all impressions, and 
 conscious of no thoughts — she shook ofT the 
 strange waking stupor that possessed her, and 
 rose to prepart^ herself for the serious business 
 of the day. 
 
 She went to the wardrobe, and took down 
 from the pegs two bright, delictate muslin 
 dresses which had been made for summer 
 wear at Combe-Kaven a year since, and which 
 had been of too little value to be worth sell- 
 ing when she parted with her other pos.ses- 
 .•;ions. After placing these dresses side by 
 side on the bed, she looked into the wardrobe 
 once more. It only contained one other sum- 
 mer dress — the plain aljjaca gown which she 
 had worn during her memorable interview 
 with Noel VanstouG and I\Irs. Lecount. This 
 she left in its i)laee, resolving not to wear it, 
 less from any dread that the housekeeper 
 might recognize a pattern Uio quiet to be no- 
 ticed, and too counnon to be remembered, 
 than from the conviction that it was neither 
 gay nor becoming enough for the purpose. 
 After taking a plain white muslin .scarf, a 
 pair of light gray kid gloves, and a garden- 
 hat of Tuscan straw from the drawers of the 
 wardrobe, she locked it, and put the key care- 
 fully in her pocket. 
 
 Instead of at once proceeding to dress her- 
 sell", she sat idly looking at the two muslin 
 gowns ; careless which she wore, and yet 
 ini-onsistently hesitating which to choose. 
 " AVhat does it matti-r I" she said to herself, 
 with a reeklcs<s laiigh ; " I am ecpially worthless 
 in niv own estimation, whichever I put on." 
 She shuddered, as if the sounil of her own 
 laughter had startled her, and abruptly caugh^ 
 up the dress which lay nearest to her hand. 
 Its colors were blue and white — the shade of 
 blue which best suited her fair comple.xion. 
 She hurriedly put ou the gowu without going 
 
184 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 near her looking-glass. For the first tim'^ in 
 her life she shrank from meeting the reilee- 
 tion of herself, except for a moment, when 
 she arranged lier hair under her garden-liat, 
 leaving the glass again immediately. She 
 drew her scarf over her shoulders, and fitted 
 on her gloves, with her back to the toilet- 
 table. ''Shall I paint?" she asked herself, 
 feeling instinctively that she was turning pale. 
 " Tlie rouge is still left in my box. It can't 
 make my face more false than it is already.'' 
 She looked round toward the glass, and again 
 turned away from it. " No I" she said. I 
 have Mrs. l^ecount to face as well as her mas- j 
 ter. No paint." After consulting her watch, 
 she left the room and went down stairs again. 
 It wanted ten minutes only of two o'clock. 
 
 Captain \\ ragge was waiting for her in the 
 parlor — respectable in a frock-coat, a stiff 
 summer cravat, and a high white hat ; speck- 
 lessly and cheerfully rural, in a buff waist- 
 coast, gray trowsers, and gaiters to match. 
 His collars were higher than ever, and he 
 carried a bran-new camp-stool in his hand. 
 Any tradesman in England who had seen him 
 at that moment would have trustetl him on 
 the spot. 
 
 "Charming!" said the captain, paternally 
 surveying Magdalen when slie entered the 
 room. " So i'resii and cool I A little too pale, 
 my dear and a great deal too serious. Other- 
 wise j)erfect. Try if you can smile." ' 
 
 " WhiMi the time eonies for smiling," said ■ 
 Magdalen, bitterly, '• trust my dramatic train- | 
 ing for any change of face that may be nee- i 
 essary. AV'here is Mrs. Wragge ?" i 
 
 " Mrs. Wragge has learned her lesson," ' 
 replied the captain, "and is rewarded by my i 
 permission to .sit at work in her room. J | 
 sanction h'.'r new fancy for dress-making, be- ! 
 cause it is sure to absorb all her attention ! 
 and to keep her at home. There is no fear i 
 of her finishing the Oriental Robe in a hurry, 
 for there is no mistake in the process of mak- I 
 ing it which she is not cenain to commit. She ! 
 will sit incubating her gown — pardon the 
 expression — like a hen over an addled egg. 
 I assure you her new whim relieves me. 
 Nothing could be more convenient under ex- 
 isting circumstances." 
 
 He strutted away to the window, lookeii 
 out, and beckoned to Magdalen to join him. 
 " There they are ! ' he said, and pointed to 
 the Parade. 
 
 Mv. Noel Vanstone slowly walked by, as 
 she looked, dressed in a complete suit of old- 
 fashioned nankeen. It was apparently one 
 of the days when the state of his health was 
 at the worst. He leaned on Mrs. Leeount's 
 arm, and was protected from the sun by a 
 light umbrella which she held over him. The 
 hoijisekeeper — dressed to perfection, as usual, 
 in a quiet lavender-colored summer gown, a 
 black mantilla, an unassuming straw bonnet, 
 and a crisp blue veil — escorted her invalid 
 tl^aster with the teaderust attention ; some- 
 
 times directing his notice respectfully to the 
 variou.s objects of the sea -view, sometimes 
 bending her head in graceful acknowledg- 
 ment of the courtesy of passing strangers on 
 the Parade who stepped aside to let the in- 
 valid pass by. She produced a visible effect 
 among the idlers on th(! beach. They looked 
 after her with unanimous interest, and ex- 
 changed confidential nods of approval, which 
 said, as plaiidy as Avords could have expressed 
 it, "A very domestic person ! a truly superior 
 woman !" 
 
 Captain Wragge's parti-colored eyes follow- 
 ed INlrs. Lecount with a steady, distrustful 
 attention. " Tough work for us there " he 
 whispered in Llagdalen's ear; " tougher Avork 
 than you think, before we turn that woman 
 out of iier plai.-e." 
 
 "Wait," said Magdalen, quietly — "wait, 
 and see." 
 
 She walked to the door. The captain fol- 
 lowed her without making any further remark. 
 " I '11 Avait till you 're married," he thouglit to 
 himself, " not a moment longer, offer me what 
 you may." 
 
 At the house-door Magdalen addressed him 
 again : 
 
 " We will go that way," she said, pointing 
 southwai-d ; " then turn and meet tiiem as they 
 come back." 
 
 Captain Wragge signified his approval of 
 the arrangement, and Ibllowed Magdalen to 
 the garden-gate. As she opened it to pass 
 through her attention was attracted by a lady, 
 with a nursery-maid and two little boys behind 
 her, loitering on the path outside the garden- 
 wall. The lady started, looked eagerly, and 
 smiled to lierself as Magdalen came out. Cu- 
 riosity had got the better of Kirke's sister, and 
 she had come to Aldborough for tke express 
 purpose of seeing Miss Bygrave. 
 
 Something in the .shape of the lady's face, 
 something in the expression of her dark eyes, 
 reminded Magdalen of the merchant-captain 
 whose uncontrolled admiration had annoyed 
 her on the previous evening. She instantly 
 returned the stranger's scrutiny by a frown- 
 ing, ungracious look. The lady colored, paid 
 the look back with interest, and slowly walked 
 on. 
 
 " A hard, bold, bad girl," thought Kirke's 
 sister. " What could Robert be thinking of to 
 admire her? I am almost glad he is gone. I 
 hope and trust he will never set eyes on Miss 
 Bygrave again." 
 
 " What boors the people are here 1" said 
 Magdahm to Captain NVragge. " That woman 
 was even ruder than the man last night. She 
 is like him in the face. I wonder who she is?" 
 
 " I '11 find out directly," said the captain. 
 " We can't be too cautious about strangers." 
 He at (mce appealed to his friends, the boat- 
 men. Th(;y were close at hand, and Magda- 
 len heard the questions and answers plainly. 
 
 " How are you all this morning?" said Cap- 
 taiu Wragge, iu his easy, jocular way. " Aod 
 
XO NAME. 
 
 ISl 
 
 how 's the wind ? Nor'wost and by west, is 
 it ? Very pood. Wlio is that lady V" 
 
 "That's Mrs. Si rifklnnd. Sir." 
 
 ** Ay ! ay ! The (■ler<fynian's wife and the 
 eaptain's sister. Wiiero's the eaptain to-day V" 
 
 " On his way to London, I should think. Sir. 
 His ship sails for China at tiie end of the 
 week." 
 
 China ! As tliat one word passed th« man's 
 lij)? a pang of the old sorrow struck Magdalen 
 to the heart. Stranger as he was, she began 
 to hate the bare mention of the merchant- 
 captain's name. He ha<l troubled her dreams 
 of the past night ; and now, when she was 
 most desperately and recklessly bent on for- 
 getting her old home-existence, he had been 
 indirectly the eause of recalling her mind tx) 
 Frank. 
 
 " Come !" she said angrily to her compan- 
 ion. " AViiat do we care about the man or 
 his ship ? Come away !" 
 
 " By all means," said Captain Wragge. " .\s 
 long as we don't find friends of the 13ygraves, 
 what do we care about anybody ?" 
 
 They walked on tsontliward tor ten minutes 
 or more, then turned and walked back again 
 to meet Noel A'anstone and Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Captain Wragge and INIagdalen retraced 
 their steps until ihey were again within view 
 of North Shingles Villa before any signs ap- 
 peared of ]\Irs. Lecount and her master. At 
 that point the housekeeper's lavender-eoloi-ed 
 dress, the umbrella, and the feeble little figure 
 in nankeen walking under it, became visibk^ 
 in the distance. The captain slackened his 
 ])aee immediately, and is.-ued his directions to 
 Magdalen lor her conduct at the coming in- 
 terview in these words: 
 
 " Don't forget your smile," he said. " In all 
 other respects you will do. The walk has im- 
 proved your complexion, and the hat becomes 
 you. Look ]\Irs. Lecount steadily in the face; 
 bhow no embarrassment when you .speak ; and 
 if Mr. Noel Vanstone pays you pointed atti-n- 
 tion, don't take loo much notice of him wliile 
 liis hou.sekeeper's eye is on you. IMintl one 
 thing! I have been at Joyce's Stientifie Dia- 
 logues all the morning, and I am quite serious 
 in meaning to give Mrs. Lecount the full benefit 
 of my studies. If I can't contrive to divert her 
 attention from you and her master, 1 won't 
 give sixpence for our chance of success. Small- 
 talk won't succeed with that woman; lompli- 
 ments won't succeed ; jokes won't succeed ; 
 ready-made science may recall the deceased 
 Professor, and ready-made science may do. 
 We must establish a code of signals to let you 
 know what I am .ibout. Observe this eamp- 
 slool. When I shift it from my left han<l to 
 my right, I am talking Joyce. When I shift 
 it from my ri;rht hand to uty left, I am talkintr 
 
 Wragge. In the first case, don't interrupt 
 me — I am leading up to my point. In the 
 second case, say anything you like ; my re- 
 marks are not of the slightest conse(juence. 
 Would you like a rehearsal '? Are you sure 
 you understand? Very good — take "my arm, 
 and look happy. Steady! here they are." 
 
 The meeting took place nearly midway be- 
 tween Sea-View Cottage and Nortli Sliiii'Wes. 
 Captain Wragge took ofl' his tall white "liat, 
 and opened the interview immediately on the 
 triendlic.st terms. 
 
 •' Gooii-morning, Mrs. Lecount," he said, 
 with th;- irank and cheerful politeness of a 
 naturally sociable man. '• (Jood-morning, Mr. 
 Vanstone; I am sorry to see you suflerin": to- 
 day. Mrs. Lecount, permit me to introduce 
 my niece — my niece, I\Iiss Bygi ave. ^Iv dear 
 girl, this is ]\Ir. Noel Vanstone, our neighbor 
 at Sea- View Cottage. We must positively be 
 sociable at Aldborough, Mrs. Lecount. Thei-e 
 is only one walk in I he place (as my niece re- 
 miuked to me ju.st now, Mr. Vanstone), and 
 on that walk we must all meet every time we 
 go out. And why not? Are we tbrmal peo- 
 ple on either side? Nothing of the .sort — wo 
 are just the reverse. You possess the conti- 
 nental facility of manner, !^I^. A'anstone — I 
 match you with the blunt cordiality of art 
 old-fashioned Englishman — the ladies mingle 
 together in harmonious variety, like fiowers 
 on the same Ijcd — and the result is a nmtual 
 interest in making our sojourn at (he sea-side 
 agreeable to each other. Pardon my llow of 
 spirits; pardon my leeling so cheerful and so 
 young. The Iodine in the sc.t- lir. ^Irs. Le- 
 count — the notorious etTect of the Iodine in 
 the sea-air !" 
 
 " You arrived yesterday. Miss Bygrave, did 
 you not ?" said the housekeeper, as soon as the 
 captain's deluge of language had come to an 
 end.. 
 
 She addressed those words to ]\Iagdalen Avith 
 a gentle, motherly interest in her youth and 
 beauty, chastened by the deferential amiability 
 which became her siMi;ition in ^Ir. Noel Van- 
 stone's household. Not the faintest token of 
 suspicion or surjirisi; betraye<l itstdf in her 
 face, her voice, or her manner while she and 
 Magdaien now looked at each other. It wan 
 plain at the outset that the true face and 
 figure which she now {law recalled nothing to 
 her mind of the false face and figure which 
 sue had seen in Vauxhall Walk. The disguise 
 had evidently been complete enough even to 
 balTle the penetrafiou of Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 '• My aunt and I came here yesterday even- 
 ing," said Magdalen. " We Ibund the latter 
 part of the journey very fatiguing. I dare 
 say you found it .so too?"' 
 
 She designedly made her answer longer 
 than was necessary, for the purpose of dis- 
 covering at the earliest opfjortunity the effect 
 which the sound of her voice produced on 
 Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 The housekeeper's thin lipx niaiutained their 
 
 M 
 
ISC 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 motherly smile — the housekeeper's amiable 
 manner lost none of its modest deference ; 
 but the expression of her eyes suddenly chang- 
 ed from a look of attention to a look of in- 
 quiry. I^Iagdalen quietly said a few words 
 more, and then waited again for results. The 
 chanire spread gradually all over Mi's. Le- 
 count's face; the motherly smile died away; 
 and the amiable manner beti-ayed a slight j 
 touch of restraint. Still, no signs of positive ! 
 recognition appeared ; t^^e housekeeper's ex- 
 pression remained what it had been from the 
 first — an expression of inquir\-, and nothing 
 more. 
 
 " You complained of fatigue. Sir, a few 
 minutes since," she said, dropping all further 
 conversation with Magdalen, and addressing 
 her master. "Will you go in-doors and rest?" 
 
 The proprietor of Sea - View Cottage had 
 hitherto confined himself to bowing, simper- 
 ing, and admiring Magdalen through his half- 
 closed eyelids. Tlicre was no mistaking the 
 sudden flutter and agitation in his manner, 
 and the heightened color in his wizen little 
 face. Even the reptile temperament of Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone warmed under the influence of 
 the sex ; he had an undeniably appreciative 
 eye for a handsome woman, and Magdalen's 
 grace and beauty were not thrown away on 
 him. 
 
 "Will you go in-doors, Sir, and rest?" 
 asked the housekeeper, repeating her ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Not yet, Lecount," said her master. " I 
 fancy I feel stronger ; I fancy I can go on a 
 little." He turned, simpering, to Magdalen, 
 and added in a lower tone, " T have found a 
 new interest in my walk. Miss Bygrave. Don't 
 desert us, or you will take the interest away 
 with you." 
 
 lie smiled and smirked in the highest ap- 
 proval of the ingenuity of his own compliment 
 — from which Captain Wragge dextrously 
 diverted the housekeeper's attention by rang- 
 ing himself on her side of the path and speak- 
 ing to her at the same moment. They all 
 four walked on slowly. Mrs. Lecount said 
 nothing more. She kept fast hold of her 
 master's arm, and looked across him at Mag- 
 dalen with the dangerous ex[)ression of in- 
 quiry more marked thau ever in her handsome 
 black eyes. That look was not lost on the 
 wary Wragge. He shifted his indicative 
 camp-stool from the left hand to the right, 
 and opened his scientific batteries on the spot. 
 
 "A busy scene, Mrs. Lecount," said the 
 captain, politely waving his camp-stool over 
 the sea and the passing ships. " The great- 
 ness of England, ma'am — the true greatness 
 of England. Pray observe how heavily some 
 of those vessels are laden ! I am often in- 
 clined to wonder whether the British sailor is 
 at all aware, when he has got his cargo on 
 board, of the Hydrostatic importance of the 
 operation that he has performed. If I were 
 suddenly transported to the deck of one of 
 
 those vessels (which Heaven forbid, for I suf- 
 fer at sea !) and if I said to a member of the 
 crew, 'Jack! you have done wonders; you 
 have grasped the theory of floating' vessels' — 
 how the gallant fellow would stare ! And yet 
 on that theory Jack's life depends. If he 
 loads his vessel one-thirtieth part more than 
 he ought, what happens ? He sails past Aid- 
 borough, I grant you, in safety. He enters 
 the Thames, I grant you again, in safety. He 
 gets on into the fresh water, as far, let us say, 
 as Greenwich; and — down he goes ! Down, 
 ma'am, to the bottom of the river, as a matter 
 of scientific certainty !" 
 
 Here he paused, and left Mrs. Lecount no 
 polite alternative but to request an explana- 
 tion. 
 
 " With infinite pleasure, ma'am," said the 
 captain, drowning in the deepest notes of his 
 voice the feeble treble in which Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone paid his compliments to Magdalen. 
 " We will start, if you please, with a first 
 principle. All bodies whatever that float on 
 the surface of the water displace as much 
 fluid as is eq.ual in weight to tiie weight of the 
 bodies ! Good ! We have got our first prin- 
 ciple. What do we deduce from it? Mani- 
 festly this: That in order to keep a vessel 
 above water it is necessary to take care that 
 the vessel and its cargo should be of less 
 weight than the weight of a quantity of water 
 — l)ray follow me here ! — of a quantity of 
 water equal in bulk to that part of the vessel 
 which it will be safe to immerse in the water. 
 Now, ma'am, salt water is sjiecifically thirty - 
 times heavier than fresh or river water ; and 
 a vessel in the German Ocean will not sink 
 so deep as a vessel in the Thames. Conse- 
 quently, when we load our ship with a view 
 to the London market, we have (Hvdrostati- 
 cally s])eaking) three alternatives. Either we 
 load with one-thirtieth part less than we can 
 carry at sea; or we take one-thirtieth part 
 out at the mouth of the river; or we do 
 neither the one nor the other, and, as I have 
 already had the honor of remarking — down 
 we go ! Such," said the captain, shifting the 
 camp-stool back again from his right hand to 
 his left, in token that Joyce was done with for 
 the time being — "such, my dear madam, is 
 the theory of floating vessels. Permit me to 
 add, in conclusion, you are heartily welcome 
 to it." 
 
 " Thank you, Sir," said Mrs. Lecount. 
 "You have unintentionally saddened me, but 
 the information I have received is not the less 
 precious on that account. It is long, long 
 ago, Mr. Bygrave, since I have heard myself 
 addressed in the language of science. My 
 dear husband made me his companion — my 
 dear husband improved ray mind as you have 
 been trying to improve it. Nobody has taken 
 pains with my intellect since. Many thanks. 
 Sir. Your kind consideration for me is not 
 thrown away." 
 
 She sighed with a plaintive humility, and 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 137 
 
 privately opnncd her ears to tlic conversation 
 on the otluT side of her. 
 
 A minute earlier she wonM have hca-il her 
 master expressing himself in the most flatter- 
 ing terms on tlie sul)jeet of IMiss Bygravc's 
 appearance in lier sea- side costume. But 
 iMagihilen ha<l seen Capt;iin Wrngjre's signal 
 ■\vitii tlie camp-stool, ami Iiad at once diverted 
 "Mr. Noel Vanstone to the topic of himself 
 and his possessions I)}' a neatly timed question 
 about his house at Aldbcn-ongli. 
 
 " I don't wish to alarm you, Miss Bygrave," 
 Tvere the first words of Mr. Noel Vanstone's 
 whieli caught Mrs. Lecounl's attention ; "hut 
 there is oidy one safe house in Aldborougli, 
 and that house is i\line. 'I'he sea may destroy 
 all the other houses — it can't de.stroy Mine. 
 !My father took care of that; my father Avas a 
 remarkable man. He had My house built on 
 piles. I have reason to believe fhej- are the 
 stiongest piles in Eiiglaml. Nothing can pos- 
 fibly knO( k them down — i don't care wdiat the 
 fea does — nothing can possibly knock them 
 down." 
 
 '• 'J'hen, if the sea invades us, * said Magda- 
 len. " Avc must all inn for refuge (o you." 
 
 Mr. Noel V'aistone saw his w;iy to another 
 eomplimcnt, and at tlic snme moment the 
 wary captain saw his way to anotlicr burst of 
 eeienee. 
 
 " I could almost wish the invasion might 
 happen," niurmureil one of the gentlemen, 
 "to give me the happiness of ottering tlie 
 refuge.' 
 
 " I could almost swear the wind had shifted 
 again !" e.\cl;iimcd the otiur. " \A'herc is a 
 man I can ask V Oh, there he is. Boatman ! 
 jiow 's the wind now ? Nor'west and by west 
 still — hey ? And south-east and by south yes- 
 terday evi-ning — haV Is there anyfhincr more 
 remarkable, ]\Irs. Lecoiuit. than (he variable- 
 ness of tlie wind in thi.-* climate'" proceeded 
 the captain, shilting his camp-stool to the 
 pcientilir side of him. " Is tlieix3 any natm-al 
 Jihenouif lion morc^ bewildciing to the scientific 
 iinpiirer? You will tell me that the electric 
 fluid which abounds in the air is the principal 
 cause of this variableness. You will remiml 
 me of the experiment of that illustiious philos- 
 opher who measured the velocity of a great 
 storm by a flight of small feathers. My dear 
 madam, ! gr.mt all your propr)sitions — " 
 
 '• I beg \our pardon, Sir,"' said Airs. Le- 
 rount; "yon kindly attribute to me a knowl- 
 edge that I don't i)0.><.ses.>«. I'lopositions, I 
 regret to say, are ipiite bi-yond me." 
 
 " Don't misunderstand nn*, ma'am," con- 
 tinued the captain, polind} unionscious of the 
 interruption. "My remaiks apply to the 
 temperate zone only. Place me on the coasts 
 bi-tween the tropics — place mo where the 
 •\viud blows toward the shore in the daytime, 
 and toward the sea by night — an<l I instantly 
 a<lvance toward conclusive experiments. For 
 example, I know that the lu-at of the sun 
 during the day rarefies the air ov«r the land, 
 18 
 
 and so causes the wind. You challenge me to 
 prove it. I escort you down the kitchen 
 stairs (with your kind permission) ; I take my 
 largest ])ie-disli out of the cook's hands; I fill 
 it with colli water. (Jood ! that dish of cold 
 Avater represents the ocean. I lu'xt provi<lc 
 myself with one of our most precious domestic 
 conveniences — a hot-water plate — 1 fill it. 
 with hot water, and I put it in the middle of 
 the pie-ilish. (iood again ! the hot-water plato 
 represents the land rarefying the air over it. 
 Bear that in mind, and give mi; a lighted can- 
 dle. I hold my lighted candle over the cohi 
 Avater and blow it out. The smoke imme- 
 diately moves from the di.sh to the i)latc. 
 Before you have time to exj)ress your satis- 
 faction I light the candle onee more, and re- 
 verse the whole ])roeeeding. I fill the pie- 
 dish Avith hot Avater, and the plate Avith cold; 
 I blow the candle out again, and the smoke 
 moves this time from the jjiate to the dish. 
 The smell is disagreeable, but the experiment. 
 is conelu-ive." 
 
 He shitted the camp-stool back again, and 
 looked at Mrs. Lecouut Avith his ingratiating 
 smile. " Yoti don t find me long-winded, 
 ma'am — do you ?" he .said, in his easy, cheer- 
 fid way, just as the housekeejier Avas i)iivately 
 0])ening her ears once more to the conversa- 
 tion on the other side of her. 
 
 " I am amazed, Sir, by the range of your 
 information," re])lied Mi's. Ja'couuI, observing 
 tlie captain Avith some i)erj)lexiiy, but thus lar 
 Avilh no distrust. She thought him eccentric, 
 even for an Englishman, and possibly a little 
 vain of his knowledge. But he had at least 
 ]>aid her the implied compliment of addressing 
 that knowledge to hei-scit', and she felt it the 
 more sensibly from having hitherto found her 
 scientific sunpatliics witli her deceased litis- 
 band treated with no great respect by the 
 people Avith Avhom she came in contact. 
 " Have you extended yotn' imjuiries. Sir," 
 she proceeded, afti'i' a momentary hesitation, 
 "to my late husband's branch of science? I 
 merely ask, ISir. Bygravi-, because (though I 
 am only a Avoman) 1 think I might exchange 
 ideas Avith you on the subject of" the reptile 
 creation." 
 
 Captain Wraggc Avas far too sharp to risk 
 his rea<ly-made .science on the enemy's ground. 
 The old militia-man shook his Avary head. 
 
 '•Too vast a .subject, ma'am," he said, "for 
 a smatterer like me. i he lite and labor.-) of 
 such a jthilosoiiher as your husband, Mrs. Lc- 
 count, Avarn men of my intidlectual calibre 
 not to measure thenisclvcs Avith a giant. May 
 1 inipiire," jiroceedetl the captain, softly 
 smoothing the Avay for future intercourse witli 
 Sea-View Cottage, "whether you possess aiiy 
 •scientific memorials of the late Professor V" 
 
 " 1 possess his Tank, Sir,'' said Mrs. Lc- 
 count, motlestly catting her eyes on the 
 ground; "and one of Ins Subjects — a little 
 foreign Toad." 
 
 " llis Tank I" e.\claimcd flic captain, in 
 
138 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 tones of mournful interest. " And liis Toad ! 
 Parilun my blunt way of speaking my mind, 
 ma'am. You possess an olyi'et of public in- 
 terest ; and, as one of the jjublic, I acknowl- 
 edge my cuiiosity to .see it." 
 
 " INlr^. Lecount's smooth rhoeks colored with 
 pleasure. The one a.ssai!ablc place in that 
 cold and secret nature was the place occu- 
 pied by the memory of the Professor. Her 
 pride in his scientific achievements, and her 
 mortifit'ation at finding them but little known 
 out of his own country, were genuine feelings. 
 Never had Captain Wragge burned his adul- 
 terated incense on the ilimsy altar of human 
 vanity to better purpose than he was burning 
 it now. 
 
 '• You arc very good. Sir," said Mrs. Le- 
 count. " In honoring my husband's memory 
 you honor me. But though you kindly treat 
 me on a footing of equality, I must not forget 
 that I fill a domestic situation. 1 shall feel it 
 a privilege to show you my relics, if you will 
 allow me to ask my master's ])ermIssion first." 
 
 She turned to Mr. Noel Vanstone; her 
 perfectly sincere intention of making the pro- 
 posed request, mingling — in that strange eom- 
 ])lexity of motives wliich is Ibund so much 
 ofiener in a woman's mind than in a man's — 
 with her jealous distrust of the impression 
 which Maiidalcn had produced on her master. 
 
 "May I make a request, Sir?" asked ]\Irs. 
 Lccouiit, after waiting a moment to catch any 
 fragments of tenderly-personal talk that might 
 reach her, and after being again neatly baf- 
 lled liy IMagdalen — thanks to the camp-stool. 
 "Mr. Bygrave is one of the few persons in 
 England who apju'eciate my liusbniui's scien- 
 tific labors. lie honors me by wishing to see 
 my little world of reptiles. May I show it to 
 him V" 
 
 " By all mear.s, Lceount," said Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone, graciously. " You are an e.\cel- 
 lent crcjifure, and J like to oblige you. lic- 
 count's Tank, Mr. Bygrave, is the only Tank 
 in England — Lecount's Toad is the oldest 
 ; toad in the world. AVill you come and (hink 
 tea at seven o'clock to-night? And will you 
 
 1)revail on Miss Bygrave to accompany you ? 
 want her to see my house. I don't think she 
 lias any idea what a strong house it is. Conn; 
 and survey my premises, Miss Bygrave. You 
 shall have a stick and rap on the walls; you 
 siiall go up stairs and stamji on the floors — 
 and tlien you shall hear what it all cost." His 
 eyes wrinkled up cunningly at the corners, 
 and he slipped another tender speech into 
 Magdalen's ear, under cover of the ali-pre- 
 doniitiating voice in which Captain Wragge 
 thajiked him for the invitation. " Come punc- 
 tually at seven," he whispered, '• and pray 
 wear that elianning hat !" 
 
 !Mrs, Lecount's lips closed ominously. She 
 set down the captain's niece as a very serious 
 drawback to the intellectual luxury of the 
 captain's society. 
 
 " Y<JU arc fatiguing yourself, Sir," she said 
 
 to her master. " This is one of your bad days. 
 Let me recommend you to be careful; let me 
 beg you to walk back." 
 
 Having carried his point by inviting the 
 new acquaintances to tea, Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 proved to be unexpectedly docile. He ac- 
 knowledged that he was a little fatigued, and 
 turned back at once in obedience to the housc- 
 kecpei-'s advice. 
 
 " Take my arm. Sir — take my arm, on the 
 other side," saiil Captain Wrajjge, as they 
 turned to retrace their steps. His parti-col- 
 ored eyes looked significantly at Magdalen 
 while he cpoke, and warned her not to stretch 
 ]\lrs. Lceount s endurance too far at starting.- 
 She instantly understood him, and in spite of 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's rei I crated assertions that; 
 he stood in no need of t!ie captain's arm placed 
 herself at once by the housekeeper's side. 
 ISIrs. Lceount recovered her good humor, and 
 opened another conversation with IMagdalen 
 by making the one inquiry of all olhei's which, 
 under existing circumstances, was the hardest 
 to answer. 
 
 " 1 prejumc Mrs. Bygrave is too tired after 
 her journey to come out to-day?" said Mrs. 
 Lecouiit. " Shall we have the pleasure of 
 seeing her to-monow ?" 
 
 " Probably not," replied Magdalen. " My 
 aunt is in delicate health.'* 
 
 "A couiplicated ease, my dear madam," add- 
 ed the captain, conscious that Mrs. Wraggc's 
 personal appearance (if she hapi)cned to be 
 i-ecn by accident) would ofier tlic llattestof all 
 possible ( oritradietions to what Magdalen had 
 just said of her. " There is some remote 
 nervous mischief which doesn't express itself 
 externally. You would think my wife the 
 picture of health if you looked at her — and 
 yet, so delusive are appearances, I am obliged 
 to ibriad her all exciicment. She sees no so- 
 ciety — our medical attendant, I regret to say, 
 absolutely i)rohibits it." 
 
 " Very sad," said Mrs. Lecounl^. " Tiic 
 poor la(ly must often feel lonely, Sir, when 
 you and your niece are array from her?" 
 
 "No," replied the captain. "^Irs. Bygrave 
 is a naturally domestic woman. )Vhcn she is 
 able to employ herself, she finds unlimited re- 
 soui'ces in her needle and thread.' Having 
 reached this stage of the explanation — and 
 having puj-poselj- skirted, as it were, round 
 the coniines of truth, in the event of the 
 housekeeper's curiosity leading her to make 
 any private inquiries on the subject of Mrs. 
 Wragge — the captain wisely checked his flu^ 
 ent tongue from carrying him into any fur- 
 ther details. " I have great hope from the 
 air of this place," he remarked, in con -Insion. 
 " The Iodine, as I have already observed, dotts 
 wonders." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount acknowledged the virtues of 
 Iodine in the briefest pQssible form of words, 
 and withdrew into the innermost sanctuary of 
 her own thoughts. " Some mysteiy here," 
 said the housekeeper to herself. "A lady who 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 139 
 
 looks the picture of health; a lady who siifTers 
 from a cotuplicated iutvous inalaily : and a 
 i;i(iy w!)o.<t' hind is steady (Mionu'li to use her 
 nerdic and thread, is a livinir mass of contra- 
 dictions I don't (jnito understand. Do yon 
 make a loni; stay at Aldboroniili, Sir," slie 
 added alouil, her" eyes restinjj lor a niomcnt 
 in steady scrutiny on the captain's face. 
 
 '• It all depends, my dear ni;ulaiii, on IMrs. 
 Bv!jrave. I trust we shall stay throtiiih the 
 autumn. You are settletl at Sea-View Cot- 
 tajrc. 1 ]>resnmc, for the season ?" 
 
 " You uuist ask my m:\ster. Sir. It is for 
 him to decide, uot for me." ' 
 
 The answer was an unfortunate one. IMr. 
 Noel Vanstone had heen secretly annoyed by 
 the chanire in the walkinL>' arranijements which 
 Iiad sepirated him from Majjdalen. lie at- 
 tributed that chaniijc to the meddlinir influ- 
 ence of Mrs. Lecount, and he now took the 
 earliest opportunity of rosentinj^ it on the 
 spot. 
 
 *' I have nothing to do with our stay at Ahl- 
 boroutrh," he broke out peevishly. " You 
 know as well as I do, Lecount, it all depends 
 on yon. Mrs. I^ecount hiis a brother in 
 Switzerland," he went on, addressinji himself 
 to the ca|)tain — •' ta brother who is seriously 
 ill. If he oLts wor.se, she will liave to go there 
 and see him. I can't accompany her, and I 
 can't be left in the house by myself. I shall 
 have to break up my establishment at Ald- 
 borouirh, and stHy with some frieiuls. It all 
 de[)enils on you, Lecount — or on youi- brother, 
 which comes lo the same thinj; \\' it depended 
 on in(\'^ lontinued Mr. Noel Vanstone, looking 
 pointedly at M;ii!;<lalen across the housekeeper, 
 '• I should stay at Aldl>oroujj;h all through the 
 autumn with the greatest pleasure. AVitli the 
 prc;\test pleasure," he reiterated, rcpe.iling 
 tlie words with a tender look for Magdalen, 
 ami a spiteful accent lor Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 Thus far (Captain Wragge had remained 
 silent, carefully noting in his mind the ])roinis- 
 ing ]>ossil)ilities of a separation between Mrs. 
 I.,ccount and her mastci', whirh Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone's little fretful outbreak had just disclosed 
 to him. .\\\ ominous trenil)ling in the house- 
 keejjer's thin lips, as lier master openly exposed 
 lier family affairs before strangers, and openly 
 set her jealousy at defiance, now Avarni'd him 
 to interfere. If the misunderstanding were 
 jiermitted to proceed to extremities, there was 
 a ciiance that the invitation for that evening 
 to Sea-View Cottage might be ])ut off. Now, 
 as ever, equal to the occasion, Ca])tain Wiaggc 
 called his useful information once more to the I 
 rescue. Uniler the, Iearne<l au-pices of Joyce | 
 he jilungod lor tlie third time into the ocean of 
 science and brought \ip another pearl, lie 
 ■was still haranguing (on I'nemnatics this lime), 
 still improving Mrs. Lecounl's mind with his 
 politest perseverance ami his smoothest flow 
 of language, when the walking-party stopped 
 at Mr. Noel Vanstone'!* door. 
 
 " Bless my soul, here we are at your house, 
 
 Sir," said the captain, interrupting himself in 
 tlie middle of oiu- of lii.s graphic sentences. 
 " I won't keep you standing a moment. Not 
 a word of apology, Mrs. Lecount, I beg and 
 ]iray! I will put that curious point in Pneu- 
 matics more clearly before you on a ftituro 
 o'ecasion. In the meantime, I need only re- 
 peat that you can perform the experiment I 
 have just mentioned to your own entire sntis- 
 faetion with a bladder, an exhausted receiver, 
 and a square box. At seven o'clock, this 
 evening, Sir — at seven o'clock, Mrs. Lecount. 
 AVe have had a remarkably pleasant walk, 
 and a most instructive interchange of ideas. 
 Now, my dear girl, your aunt is waiting for 
 us." 
 
 While Jlrs. Lecount stepped aside to open 
 the garrlen-gate Mr. Noel Vanstone S'.ix.ed his 
 opportunity, and shot a last tender glance at 
 Magdalen — under shelter of the umbrella, 
 which he had taken into his own hands fiir 
 that expre.ss purpose. " Don't forget," he said, 
 with his sweetest smile — "don't liarget, when 
 yon come lliis evening, to wear that (harming 
 hat !" Before he could add any last words 
 Mrs. Lecount glided back to her ])laee, and 
 the slieltering umbrella clianged hamls again ' 
 innnediately. 
 
 "An excellent morning's work ! ' said Cap- 
 tain Wragge, as he and ilagdalen walked on 
 together to North Shingles. " You and I and 
 Joyce have all three done wonders. AVe have 
 secured a friendly invitation at the first day's 
 fishing for it." 
 
 He paused for an answer; and receiving; 
 none, observed I^Iagdalen more attentively 
 than he had observe<l her yet. Iler face had 
 turned deadly pale again, her eyes looked out 
 mei hanically straight before her in heedless, 
 reckless despair. 
 
 " What is the matter?" he asked, with the 
 greatest suipri.se. " Are you ill V" 
 
 She made no reply ; she hardly seemed to 
 hear him. 
 
 " Are yon getting alarmed about ]\Irs. Le- 
 count?" he inquired next. " There is not tho 
 least reason for alarm. She may fancy she has 
 heard something like your voice before, but 
 your face evidently bewilders her. Keep your 
 temper, and you keep her in the dark. Keep 
 her in the dark, and you will put tliat two 
 hundred pounds into my hands beff)re the 
 autumn is over." 
 
 lie waited again for an answer, and again 
 she leniained silent. The captain tried for iho 
 third time in another ilirection. 
 
 " Did you get any letters tliis morning?" he 
 went on. " Is there bad news again frotri 
 home ? Any fresh difficulties with your sis- 
 ter?" 
 
 "Say nothing about my sister!" she broke 
 out, passionately. *' Neither you nor I are fit 
 to speak of her." 
 
 She said those words at the garden-gate, and* 
 hurricfl into the house by herself. He fbllowwl 
 her, and iieard the door of lier own room vio- 
 
140 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 I 'iitly shut to, violently loi/ked and doiible- 
 lockcil. Solacinj^ liis indignation by an oath. 
 Captain AVragtrti sullenly went into one of 
 the p irIor:i on the ground-Hoor to look after 
 liis wife. The room eommiinieated with a 
 smaller and darker room at the back of the 
 liouse by means of a quaint little door, with a 
 window in the upper half of it. Softly ap- 
 proaehin'jf this door, the captain lifted the 
 white nmslin curtain which hung over the 
 window, and looked into the inner room. 
 
 There was Mrs. AVragge, with hei* cap on 
 ox\>' side, and her shoes down at heel ; with a 
 row of pins between her tei'tli ; with the 
 Oriental Cashmere llobe slowly slip|)ing off 
 the table ; witli her scissors suspended uncer- 
 tain in one hand, and her written directions 
 for dress-m iking held doubtfully in the otiier 
 — so al)soi-l)ed over the inv'ncible didi.-ulties 
 of her employment as to be jierfectly uncon- 
 scious tliat she was at that moment the object 
 of her husband's supei'intending eye. Under 
 other circumstances she would lia\e been soon 
 brought to a sense of her situation by llie 
 sound of his voice. But Captain Wragge 
 was too anxious about IMagdalen to wa-^te any 
 time on his wife after satisfying himself tiiat 
 she was snfe in her seclusion, and that she 
 mi<'ht l)e trusted to I'emain there. 
 
 lie left the parlor, and after a little hesita- 
 tion ill the passage stole up stairs and lister.fed 
 anxiously outside Magdalen's door. A dull 
 Bound of sobbing — a sound stifled in her 
 liandkei'chief, or stilled in the bedclothes — 
 was all that caught his ear. He retuined at 
 once to t!ie ground-floor, with some faint sus- 
 picion of the truth dawning on his mind at 
 last. 
 
 " The devil take that sweetheart of hers!" 
 lhouj;lit the captain. "Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 has raised the ghost of him at starting." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "When Magdalen appeared in the parlor, 
 sbortly belbre seven o clock, not a trace of 
 discomposure was visible in her manner. She 
 loiked and spoke as quietly and unconcern- 
 edly as usual. 
 
 'hie lowering distrust on Captain Wragge's 
 face cleared away at the sight of her. There 
 had been moments during the afternoon when 
 he h id seriously doubted whether the pleas- 
 ure of satisfying the grudge he owed to Noel 
 Vanstone. and the prospect of earning the 
 sum of two hundred |)Ounds, would not be 
 dearly purch^ised by running the risk of dis- 
 covery to which Magdalen's uncertain temper 
 might expose liim at any hour of the day. 
 Tile plain proof now before him of her powers 
 of self-control relieved his mind of a serious 
 auxit'ty. It mattered little to the captain 
 ■what she suftei-ed in the privacy of her own 
 chaml^eJ", jis long as she camu out of it with a 
 
 face that would bear inspection and a voice 
 that betrayed nothing. 
 
 On the way to Sea- View Cottage Captain 
 Wragge expressed his intention of asking the 
 housekeeper a few sympathizing questions on 
 the subif-et of her inv<ih'd brother in Switzer- 
 land, lie was of opinion that the critical 
 condition of this gentlemans health mi^«ht 
 exercise an imjiortant influence on tlie future 
 progress of the conspiracy. Any chance of 
 a separation, he remarked, between the house- 
 keeper and her master was, under existing 
 circumstances, a chance which merited the 
 closest investigation. " If we can only get 
 ]\Irs. Lecount out of the way at the right 
 time," whis|)cred the captain, as he opened 
 his host's garden-gate, " our man is caught !" 
 
 In a minute more Magdalen was again 
 under Noel Vanstone's roof, this time iu the 
 character of his own invited guesr.. 
 
 The proceedings of the evening were for 
 tho most part a repetition of the proceedings 
 during the morning walk. Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone vibrated between his admiration of Mag- 
 dalen's beauty and his glorification of his own 
 possessions. Cajjtain W^ragge's inexhaustible 
 outbursts of information — relievi-d by deli- 
 cately indirect incjulries rebiting to Mrs. Le- 
 count's brother — perpetually diverted tho 
 housekeeper's jealous vigilance from dwelling 
 on the looks and language of her master. So 
 the evening passed, until ten o'clock. By 
 that time the captain's ready-made science 
 was exhausted, and the housekeeper's temper 
 was forcing its way to the surface. Once 
 more Captain Wragge warned ]\lagdalen by 
 a look, and, in spite of Mr. Noel Vanstone's 
 hospitable protest, wisely rose to say good- 
 night. 
 
 " I have got my information, ' remarked tho 
 ca])tain, on his way back. " Mrs. Lecount's 
 brother lives at Zurich. He is a bachelor; 
 he [lossesses a little money ; and his sister is 
 his nearest relation. If lie will only be so 
 obliging as to break up altogether he will 
 save us a world of trouble with Mrs. lA'COunt." 
 
 It was a fine moonlight iiiglit. He looked 
 round at Magdalen as he said those words, to 
 see if her intractable depression of spirits had 
 seized on her again. 
 
 No ! her variable liumor had changed onco 
 more. She looked about her with a flaunting, 
 feverish gayety ; she scoffed at the bare idea 
 of any serious difllculty with Mrs. Lecount; 
 she mimicked Noel Vanstone's high-pitched 
 voice, and repeated Noel Vanstone's high- 
 flown compliments, with a bitter enjoyment 
 of turning him into ridicule. Instead of run- 
 ning into the house as before, she sauntered 
 carelessly by her companion's side, humming 
 little snatches of song, and kicking the hxisu 
 pebbles right and left on the garden-walk. 
 Captain Wragge hailed the change in her a» 
 the best of good omens. He thought he saw 
 plain signs that the family spirit was at last 
 coming back again. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 141 
 
 <' Well," bc! said, as lie lit her bedroom oan- 
 dlc! for licr, " wlicn w*'. all mv\ t on the Parade, 
 to-morrow, we sliall see, as our naiitic-al frlt-iids 
 say, how tlie land lie.«. One tiiin<r I can tell 
 vou, mv dear <;irl — I have used my eyes to 
 "very little purjjose if there is not .1 storm 
 l)r(!\viMi; to-iiiirlit iu IMr. Noel Vanstoiic's do- 
 inc^iie atmo5|ilu're." 
 
 Tiie captain's iiabitual penetration had not 
 misled him. As soon as the door of Sea-View 
 Cottape was closed on the pai tinir jiuests Mrs. 
 Leiount made an eilort to a.'sert the authority 
 wliieh Maijdaloii's influenee was thrcatenin;; 
 already. 
 
 She em])Ioyed every arlifiee. of whi(di she 
 was mistress to ascertain Mairdalens true po- 
 ^iiioii in Noel Vanstone's estimation. Slie 
 tried au'ain and ajr;>iu to lure iiim into an 
 uaeonsi'ious coiii'ession of tht' pleasure which 
 lie felt already in the soeiety of the beautiful 
 IVIiss By<jfrave; she twined herself in and out 
 ot" every weakness in his cdiaracter as tlie 
 froj:s and efts twined themsdvi-s in and out 
 of the rock-woric of her A(pi:irium. But siie 
 nude one serious mistake, which very clever 
 ])e()ple in their intercoin-se with their intel- 
 1 ctud interiors are almo<t universally apt to 
 tonimil- — she trusted impliiitly to the folly of 
 a (<io!. She forgot tliat one of the lowest of 
 human <pi\lities — cunninji — is exactly the 
 capieily whicii is often most lar^rely developed 
 iu the lowest of iiit<dleetual natures. If she 
 had been ho!iestly angry with her master slie 
 woidd probably have friglitened Iiiin. If she 
 bail opet.ed her mind pluinly to his view site 
 would have astonished him by ])resontin<i a 
 chain of ideas to his limited jjerceptious, which 
 they were not strong enough to grasp; Lis 
 ( uriiisity would have led him to ask lor an 
 exjil.ination ; and by practicing on that curi- 
 osity, she migiit have had him at her mercy. 
 As it was. she set her cunning a-jainst his, 
 nnd the fool proved a match for her. Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone, to whom all large-mindi-d 
 motives umler heaven wi-re inscrutable mys- 
 teries, saw the sniall-niiniled motive at the 
 1 11)1 lorn of his housekeeper's conduct with as 
 instantaneous a penetration as if he had been 
 n mm of the highest aliilily. ]\Irs. Jyecount 
 left him (or the night foileil, and knowing she 
 was foiled, left, iiim with the tigerish side of 
 her uppermost, and a low-lived longing in her 
 flegant liiiger-nails to s-tthem in her master's 
 
 She was not a woman to be beaten by one 
 (lele.it. nor by a hundreii. She was posilivelv 
 determined to think, and tliink again, until 
 she had found a means of (diecking the grow- 
 ing inliina<v with the lJygra\es at once, and 
 f«n<'ver. In tin; solitndeof her own room 
 ttiie recovered her < omposure, and set hersi If 
 for the first time to review the conclusions 
 which 8hc had gathered <'ion» the events of 
 the day. 
 
 TIk'S'c was something vagmly familiar to 
 Ler iu the voice of this Miss Hygrave ; and. 
 
 at the same time, in unaccountable contra- 
 diction, something strange to her as well. 
 Tlie fice and fijiure of the young lady wero 
 entirely new to her. It was a striking face 
 and a striking figure ; and if she had seen 
 either at any former jieriod she would cer- 
 tainly have remembered it. Miss IJygravo 
 wa- iiiKpu'stionably a stranger; and yet — 
 
 She had got no farther than this during tho 
 day; sjie could get no tardier now. Tho 
 chain of thougiit broke. Ilcr min<l look up 
 the fragin'Mits, and formed another ch.Vin 
 which atiaclied itself to the lady who was 
 kept in seclusion — to the aunt, who looked 
 well, and yet was nervous; who was nervon«, 
 and yet able to ])1y her needle and thread. 
 An iucompndiensii)le resemblance to soma 
 unrememberi'il voice in the niece; an nnin- 
 teliiuible ninl »dy which kept the aunt seidud- 
 cl fion )>ubli • view; an e.xtr.iordin iry rango 
 of scientiliv- cultivation in the uncle, as.so-iated 
 with a coarsi-ness and audacity of manner 
 which by no means suggested the idea of a 
 ni'ui engaged in studious i)ursuits — were the 
 lU'^mbcrs of this small I'amily of thr-ee what 
 lliey seeni'-d on the surface of them ? 
 
 \Vith that (piestion on her mind she went to 
 bed. 
 
 •\s soon as the candle was out the darkness 
 seemctl to communicate some inexplicable per- 
 versity to iier thoughts. 'J'iiey wainb-rcd back 
 from present things to past in spite of her. 
 Tiiey brought her old ma.-tc.-r back to lifo 
 again; they revived torgotten sayings and 
 doings in the English circle at Zurich ; they 
 veered away to the olil m.iii's death-bed at 
 Brighton ; they moved fiom Brighton to Lon- 
 don ; they entered the bare, comfortless room 
 at Vauxliall Walk ; they set the Acpiariuin 
 back ill its place o"n the kitchen-table, and put 
 tiie laLse Miss (iarili in the chair by the .'■ide 
 of it, shading her inll.imed eyes from tlio 
 light; they placeil the anonymous letter, liie 
 letter which glanced ilarkly at a conspiracy, 
 iu her hand again, and brought her with it 
 into her master's presence ; they recalled tho 
 discussion about (idiiig in the. bl-ink sjiace in 
 the advert iseinent. and the (pi.nrel that fol- 
 lowed, wln-ii she to d .Mr. ?Noel Vanstone tiat 
 till' sum he had of fired was preposterously 
 small; they revived an old doubt whiili had 
 not troubled her for wi-eks ]iiist — a doubt 
 whether the threatened conspiracy had evapo- 
 rated iu mere words, or whether she and her 
 m ister w.re likely to hear of it again. At 
 this point her thoughts broke off once more, 
 and there was a munentary blank. The next 
 instant she .started up in bed, her heart beat- 
 in<i violently, her head whirling as if she had 
 lost her senses. \\ ith electric suddenness her 
 mind jiieced together its scattered mullitudu 
 of thoughts, and put them before her |dainl/ 
 under one intelligible form. In the all-mas- 
 tering agitation of the nioaient s!ie clapped 
 her hands together, and cried out suddenly in 
 the darkness: 
 
142 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 " Miss Vanstone affaln ! ! !" 
 
 She got out of bed and kindled the light 
 once more. ISteady as her m rves were, the 
 .slio.lc of her own fiuspicioti had shaken t!iem. 
 Her firm hand trembled as slie opened her 
 dressing-case and took from it a little buttle of 
 sal-volatile. In spite of her smootii cheeks i 
 nnd h(!r well-jjreserved hair siie looked every 
 year of her age as she mixed tlie spirit witli 
 water, gieedily drank it, and, wrapping her 
 dressing-gown round her, sat down o.-i the 
 bedside to get possession again of lier calmer 
 self. 
 
 She was quite incapable of tracing the 
 mental process which had led her to dis- 
 covery. She could not get sufficiently far 
 from lierself to see that her half-formed con- 
 clusions on the subject of tlie IJygraves had 
 ended in making that I'amily oljjects of sus- 
 ])icion to lier; that the associaliou of ideas 
 liad thereuiion carried her mind back to that 
 otiier object of susjiicion which -wm, repre- 
 sented by the conspiracy against her master ; 
 and that the two ideas of those two separate 
 subjects of distrust, coming suddeidy in con- 
 tact, had struck the light. She was not able 
 to reason back in this way from the effect 
 to the cause. She could only feel that the 
 8usi)icio!i had become moi'e tlian a suspicion 
 abvady : conviction itself could not have been 
 mo 'e Hnnty rooted in her mind, 
 
 J^ooking back at IMagdalen by the new 
 light now thrown on her, i\Irs. Lecount would 
 faiu have persuaded herself that she recog- 
 nized some traces left of the false Miss Garth's 
 I'a.re and figure in the graceful and be;mLilul 
 girl who luul sat at her muster's table hardly 
 till hour since — that she found n.'semblances 
 now, which she had never thought of ijefore, 
 between the angry voice she had heard in 
 Vauxhall Walk and the smooth, well-bred 
 toiK's which still hung t)n her ears after the 
 evening's experiim-e down stairs. She would 
 f.iin have persuaded hei>self that she had 
 reached these results with no undue strain- 
 ing of the truth as she rt^ally knew it; but 
 the effort was in vain. Mrs. Lecount was not 
 a woman to waste time and tiiought in trying 
 to impuse on herself. She ace<"ptetl the inevi- 
 table conclusion that the guesswork of a mo- 
 ment had led her to discovery. Anil, more 
 taan that, she i-ecognized the plain truth — 
 unwelcome as it was — that the conviction now 
 fixed in her own mind was, thus far, unsup- 
 ported by a single fragment of producible 
 cvid'uce to justify it to tlie minds of others. 
 
 Under tliese circumstances, what was the 
 safe course to take with her m aster ? 
 
 If she candidly told him, wlien they met the 
 next morning, what had pissed through her 
 mind that night, her knowledge of Mr. Noel 
 Vaustoue warned her that one of two results 
 would certainly happen. Either he would be 
 angry and disputatious ; would ask for proofs ; 
 and, finding none forthcoming, would accuse 
 her of alarming him without a cause, to serve 
 
 her own jealous end of keeping Magdalen ou!i 
 of the house — or he would be seriously star- 
 tled, would clamor for tlie protection of tlio 
 law, and would warn the Bygraves to stand oa 
 their defense at the ouiset. If Magdalen 
 only had been concerneil in the conspiracy, 
 this latter consequence would have as<uai(!(l 
 no great importance in the housckeeper'si 
 mind. But seeing the deception as she now 
 saw it, she was far too clever a woman to fail 
 in estimating the captain's inexaaustible fer- 
 tilit}' of resource at its true value. "If I 
 can't meet this impudent villain with plain 
 proofs to help me,' thought Rlrs. Lecount, " X 
 may open my master's eyes to-morrow morn- 
 ing, and Mr. Bygrave will shut them up again 
 beibre night. The rascal is playing with all 
 his own cards under the table, and he will 
 win the game to a certainly if he sees my 
 hand at starting." 
 
 This policy of waiting was so manifestly 
 the wise policy — the wily Mr. Bygrave wa» 
 so sni'e to have provided himselt, in case of 
 emergency, with evidence to prove the iden- 
 tity which he and his niece had assumed for 
 their purpose — that Mrs. Lecount at onco- 
 decid(;d to keep her own counsel the lu'xt 
 morning, and to pause before attacking tliu- 
 conspiracy until she could ))rodu(C tiuanswei^ 
 able facts to help her. Her master's aci|naint- 
 ance with the Bygraves was only an ac(jiiaint- 
 ance of one day's standing. There was no 
 fear of its developing into a dangerous inti"- 
 macy if she merely allowed it to continue tor 
 a few days more, and if she permanently, 
 checked it, at the latest, in a week's time. 
 
 In that period what measures coidd sho 
 take to i-emove the obsta(des which now stood' 
 in her way, and to ])rovide herself with tho 
 weapons which she now wanted '^ 
 
 li.dlectiou showed her three ddfcrent chan- 
 ces in her favor — three diHerent ways of aiv 
 riving at the necessary discovery. 
 
 The first chance was to cultivate friendly, 
 terms with ^lagdalen, and then, taking her 
 unawares, to entrap her into betraying her- 
 self in Noel Vanstone's ])resence. Tne second 
 chance was to write to the elder ]\liss Van- 
 stone, and to ask (with some alarming rea>oQ 
 for putting the question) for information oa 
 the subject of her younger sister's where- 
 abouts, and of any peculiarities in her ])ei'- 
 sonal appearance which might enable a 
 stranger lo identify her. Tiie third chanco 
 was to penetrate the mystery oi Mrs. By- 
 grave's seclusion, and to asceitain at a per- 
 sonal interview whether the invalid lady'* 
 real complaint might not ])Ossib!y be a de- 
 fective capacity for keeping her hu-iband's 
 secrets. liesolving to try ad three chance* 
 in the order in which they are here enu- 
 merated, and to set her snares for Magdalen 
 on the day that was now already at hand, 
 ilrs. Lecount at last took ofJ" her (brssing- 
 gown, and allowed her weaker nature to plead 
 with her for a little sleep. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 113 
 
 The (lawn was broalving over flic cold crray 
 8o;i as slic lay down in her bi-d npain. The 
 last idra in hnr mind beibre slie fcUasUMq) 
 was cliavactevistiL: of tlie woman — it was an 
 idea that threatened the eaptain. " Ho lias 
 «ri(I;(] wilh the sacred' memory of my 1ms- 
 band," tlioutrlit the Professor's widow. " On 
 mv liii; and honor I will maki^ him pav ibr 
 iti" 
 
 Karlv the next mornin<^ I\I;i<;dalen began 
 tlic day — aeeording to lier airrcement wi.'li 
 the eaptain — by taking Mrs. ^Vragge ont ibr 
 R little ex* irise at an lionr when there was no 
 fear of her attracting the pnblie attention. 
 She ]>leaded hard to i)e h-ft at homv ; having 
 the Oiieiitai Cashmere Robe still on her mind, 
 and feeling it necessary to read her directions 
 for dress- m-dving, tor the hnndrcdth time at 
 Ica-^r, belbre (lo use iier own expression) she 
 ronid "screw np her courage to put the 
 gcissors into the stuff." But lier companion 
 would take no denial, and she was forced 
 lo go out. The one guileless ])urpose of the 
 life wliiih IMagdalcu now led was the resolu- 
 tion that poor J\!rs. Wragge should not be 
 made a prisoner on lier account — and to that 
 rc.'^olntioii s!ie meclianically clung, as the last 
 token left her by which she knew her better 
 self. 
 
 They returned later than usual to break- 
 fast. While iVIr.s. AVragge was up stairs 
 straightening herself from head to foot to 
 mi'eL I lie nu)rninir ins[)ei'tion of her hnsbaiul's 
 orderly e;, e, and while Magdalen and the cap- 
 tain Wire waiting for her in (he jiarlor, the 
 •(servant came in with a note ii-om Sea-View 
 'Coitagc. ']"he nu'ssenger was waiting for an 
 answer, and the note was addressed to Caj)- 
 taiii Wragge. 
 
 Tiic captain opened the note and road tliese 
 lines : 
 
 '• Dlau Sir — Mi'. Nool Vanstnnc desires iiic tn wiito nnil 
 tell Vdii tl-,i»t )ic i)i\ii)c se^! eliji..vint; 1liis liin; iliiy l>y tukinj; 
 n I .I'.J il.ivc lo II |)l:;ii; nil ll.i' i.(>;iiil lieie ciilled I)iiinvii:i 
 III' \ti uuxiims til liiiiiw if yon will slian; tlio u.\]ii'iise ol a 
 c:iriiiit;c iinii (live liini tlii; iilcnMiif of yi)i:r company :niil 
 MiH.s Hyjrravi'B company oti tliis e.V(.iiiNioii. I am kiiuDy 
 [ici iiiitliMl to 111! one of till' iiaily. ami if I may nay so 
 viilioiit iin|irii)iricty. I wouH vi'iilnie to aiUI lliat 1 siiall 
 fci'l as iiiiicli iiii-nsiiii! as my niaslfi' if yon ami yonc yoiiii;; 
 laily will consent to join us. We piopuso leaving AM- 
 liuroiitjli jiiiiiiliially at eleven o'clock. 
 
 •' lielieve me, dear Sir, your linmblc servant, 
 
 '■ ViiiGlMt: Lr.coUNT." 
 
 " Wl o is the letter from?" asked Magda- 
 len, noticing a change in Captain Wragge's 
 fact' as he 1 cad it. '■ What do they want with 
 us at Sea-View Cottage V " 
 
 '• Pardon me," said the captain, gravely, 
 " this r( quires i on.^ideration. Let me have a 
 minute or two to think. ' 
 
 lie took a few turns uj) and clown the room 
 — tl\en suddenly stepped aside to a table in a 
 corner, on Aviiith his writing materials were 
 placed. " I was i ot born yesterday ma'am! " 
 said tlie captain, speaking jocosely to liimself 
 He winked his brown eye, took up his pen, 
 nud wrote the answer. 
 
 " Can you speak now ?" inquired Magdalen, 
 when tlie servant had left the room. " What 
 does tliat letlersav,andhow have you answered 
 it ? " 
 
 The captain placed the letter in her hand. 
 " I have accepteil the invitation," hv. replied, 
 quietly. 
 
 Magdalen read the Iftter. " Hidden enmity 
 yesterday," she said, " and open friendship to- 
 day. What iloi'S it mean ? " 
 
 *' Jt means," said Captain Wragge, "that 
 Mrs. Lecount is even sharper than 1 ihouiht 
 liiT. She has found you out." ^ 
 
 "Impossible!" cried Magdalen. "Quite 
 impos.sible in the time." 
 
 " 1 can't say htiw she has found you out," 
 proL-eeded the captain, with perfect compos- 
 ure. "She nuiy know more of your \oico 
 than we supposed she knew. Or she miy 
 have thought us, on reflection, rather a sus- 
 picious family ; and anything suspicious in 
 which a wonuiii was concerned may have 
 taken her mind bai k to that morning call of 
 yours in Vauxhail Walk. Whii hever way it 
 may be, the meaning of this sudden change is 
 clear enough. She has found you out, and 
 she wants to jint her disiovcry to the proof 
 by slip[)iiig in an awkward question or two 
 under cover of a little friendly talk. My ex- 
 l)eiience of humanity has l»i en a varied one, 
 and Mis. Leioant is not the fiist ,-h:irp pr.icii- 
 tioiicr in pctii.-oats wlioin I have had lo deal 
 with. .\ll tin; world's a stage, my dear girl, 
 and one of the s.-enes on our lictje stage is 
 shut in from this moment." 
 
 \\'ith those words he took his cojiy of 
 Joyce's Scientific Dialogues out olhis jio.ket. 
 "You're done with already, my friend!'' 
 said the captain, giving his useful inlormatioii 
 a farewell smack wilh iiis hand, and locking it 
 up in the cupboard. " Such i.-^ human [lopii- 
 larity I " continued the indomitable vagationd, 
 jiulting the key cheerlully in his j)oiket. 
 " Yesterday Joyce was my all in all. i'o-day 
 J don't care tiiat ibr him ! " He snai)[)ed Ins 
 fingers and sat down to breakfast. 
 
 •' 1 don"t understand you," said Magdalen, 
 looking at him angrily. " Are you le.iviug 
 me to my own resourci-s for the iutiuv V " 
 
 "My dear girl!" cried Captain AVragge, 
 '* can't you aciiistom yourself to my dasii ot* 
 humor yet V I have done with my ready-mado 
 science, simj)ly because I am tpiite bii;e that 
 Mrs. Leiount lias done believing in m^. 
 Haven't I acceiited the invitation to Diin- 
 wich V Make your mind ea.<y. The help I 
 have given you already counts for uotliiu"- 
 compared with the help I am going to givu 
 you now. My honor is concerned in bowling 
 out j\Irs. Lecoiuit. This last move of In rd 
 lias made it a jicrsonal matter between us, 
 7'/te woman aclutiUi/ .ihinLs s/ir ((in tide me 
 ill.'.'.'" cried the captain, striking his knile- 
 handle on'lhe talde in a transport of viiliiou.s 
 indignation. " By licavens, 1 never was so 
 insulted belbre in my life ! Draw your chair 
 
144 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 in to the table, my dear, and {jIvc me half a 1 
 niinute's attention to what I have to say next." 
 I^I ifjdilen obeyed him. Captain Wrajrge 
 cautiously lowered his voice belore he went 
 on. 
 
 " I have told you all alonj," he said, " the 
 one thinjx needful is never to let Mrs. Lecount 
 catch you Avith your wits woo!-i;.uhetin!X. I 
 sav the same after what has h ipj)ened this 
 morning. Let her suspect yon ! J defy her 
 to find a fragment of foundation for her sus- 
 picions unless we help her. ^Ve sliall see to- 
 day if she has been ibolisli enouL'h to betray 
 lierself to her master before she has any facts 
 to support her. I doui)t it. If she has told 
 liim, we will rain down proofs of our identity 
 ■with the Bygraves on his feeble little head till 
 it absolutely aches with conviction. You have 
 two tliinifs to do on this excursion. First, to 
 • listrust every word ]\Irs. Leconntsays to you. 
 Secondly, to exert all your f iscin.itions, and 
 UKike sure of Mr. Noel Vanston •, dating f om 
 to-dav. I will give you the opp(jrtunity when 
 Ave leave the eari'iage and take our walk at 
 Dunwich. Wear your hat, wear your smile; 
 do your figure justice, lace tight ; put on your 
 neati'.«'t boots and biigiitest gloves; lie the 
 miserable little Avretch to your apron-string — 
 tie him fast; and leave the whole manage- 
 ment of this matter after that to me. Steady ! 
 lierii is ]\Irs. Wragge: Ave must be doubly care- 
 ful in looking after her uoav. Show me your 
 cap, Mrs. Wragge! show me your shoes! 
 "What do I see on vonr apron ? A spot ? 1 
 Avon't have spots ! Take it oil" after bi-eak- 
 fiist and put on another. Pidl } our chair to 
 the middle of the table — more to the left — 
 more still. ^lake the breakfast." 
 
 At a (juarter before ele\in Mrs. AVragge 
 (with her own entire concurrence) Avas dis- 
 mi.ssed to the back j-oom, to bewililer herself 
 over the science of dress-making lor the rest 
 of the day. Punctually as the clock struck 
 the hour Mrs. Lecount and her master drovi^ 
 lip to the gate of North Shingles, and found 
 ]\Iagdahii and Captain Wragge Avaiting tor 
 them in the garden. 
 
 On the Avay to DunAvich nothing occurred 
 to disturb the enjoyment of the driv(>. Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone Avas in excellent health and 
 high good humor. Lecount had apologized 
 for the little misunderstanding of the previous 
 night; Lecount hail petitioned lor the excur- 
 sion as a treat to herself. He thought of these 
 concessions, and looked at Magdalen, and 
 smirked ami simpereil Avithout intermission. 
 Mrs. Lecount acted her part to perfection. 
 She Avas motherl}- Avith Magdalen, and tender- 
 ly attentive to Noel Vanstone. She Avas deeply 
 interested in Captain Wragge's conversation, 
 and meekly disappointed to find it turn on 
 general subjects to the exclusion of science. 
 Not a Avord or look escaped her which hinted 
 in the remotest degree at her real purpose. 
 She Avas dressed Avith her customary elegance 
 and propriety ; and she Avaa the only one of 
 
 the party on that sultry summer's day Avho 
 was perfectly cool in the hottest part of lUo 
 journey. ■ ■ '^ 
 
 As they left the carriage on their arrival at I 
 DunAvich the captain seized a moment when 1 
 Mis. Lecount s eye was oil" him, and fortified 
 Magdalen by a last warning word. 
 
 '•'Ware the cat!" he Avhispered. "She 
 Avill show her claws on the Avay back. ' 
 
 'Ihey left the village and Avalked to the 
 ruins ol' a convent near at han<l — the last reiie 
 of the once populous City of Dunwich, which 
 has survived tlie destruction of the place cen- 
 turies since by the all-devouring sea. Alter 
 looking at the ruins they sought the shade of 
 a little^ AVOo<l between the village and the low 
 sand hills Avhicli overlook the Uermau Ocean. 
 Here Captain Wraggt; manoiuvred so as to let 
 Magdalen and Noel Vanstone advance somu 
 disiance in front of Mrs. Lecount and liiiiiiclf 
 — look the wrong path, and immeiliately losti 
 his way with the mojt consummate dexterity. 
 After a few minutes Avandeiiug (in the wi'ong 
 direction) he reached an open space near the 
 sea, and, politely opening hia camp-stool lor the 
 housekeeper's act onunudatioii, piopoocU wail- 
 iiii; Aviiere they were until the missing iikiii- 
 bers of the party came' that way and dij^o.\red 
 tin m. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount accepted the proposal. S:i<! 
 Avas peri'ectly well aware that tier escoit had 
 lost himself on purpose; but that discovery 
 exercisctl no disturbing inlluence on ihe smootli 
 amiability of her manner. Her day of jvck- 
 oniiig with the captain had not come yet — she 
 merely added the new item to her list, and 
 availed herself of the camp-stool. Captain 
 Wragge stretched himself in a romantic atti- 
 tude at her feet; and the two determined ene- 
 mies (grouped like two lovers in a j)ictiire) 
 fell into as i;asy and pleasant a conversation 
 as if they had been friends of twenty yeai'S 
 standing. 
 
 " 1 know you, ma'am !"' thought the cajjtain, 
 Avhiie j\lr.s. J^ecount was talking to him. " You 
 would like to catch me lrij)ping in my n-ady- 
 made science, and you wouldn't object to 
 drown me in the Pioi'essor's Tank !" 
 
 "You villain Avith llie brown eye and the 
 greien ! ' thought iSlrs. Lecount, as tlie captain 
 caught the ball of conversation in his turn ; 
 '• thick as your skin is, 1 '11 sting you through 
 it yet !" 
 
 In this frame of mind toArard each other, 
 they talked tluently on general subjects — on 
 public atlairs, on local scenery, on society in 
 Lngland ami society in Switzerland, on health, 
 climate, books, marriage, and money — talked 
 Avitliout a moment's pause, Avithout a single 
 misunderstanding on either side, for nearly an 
 hour before Magdalen and Noel Van>tone 
 strayed that Avay and made the party of i'om' 
 complete again. 
 
 When they reached the inn at Avhich the 
 carriage Avas Avaiting lor them. Captain 
 AVragge left Sir's. Lecount in undisturbed 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 14& 
 
 possession of her master, and signed to Mag- 
 dalen to drop back for a moment and speak 
 to him. 
 
 "Well?" asked the captain in a whisper; 
 " is he fast to your apron-string ?" 
 
 She shudde-red from head to foot as she 
 answered. 
 
 " He has kissed my hand," she said. " Does 
 that tell you enough? Don't let him sit next 
 me on tlie way home ! I have borne all I can 
 bear — spare me for tlie rest of the day." 
 
 " I 'II put you on the front seat of the car- 
 riage," replied the captain, "side by side with 
 me." 
 
 On the journey back Mrs. Lecount verified 
 Captain Wragge's prediction. She showed 
 her claws. 
 
 The time could not have been better chosen; 
 the circumstanrc's could hardly have favored 
 her more. IMagdalen's spirits were depressed ; 
 slie was weary in body and mind; and she. sat 
 exactly opposite the housekeeper — who had 
 been compelled by the new arrangement to 
 occupy tlie seat of honor next her master. 
 With every lacility for observing tlie slightest 
 changes that passed over Magdalen's face, 
 Mrs. Lecount tried her first experiment by 
 leading the conversation to the subject of Lon- 
 don, and to the relative advantages offered to 
 residents by the various quarters of the me- 
 tropolis on both sides of the river. The ever- 
 ready \Vraggc ]>enetrated her intention sooner 
 than she iiad anticipated, and interposed im- 
 mediately. " You 're coming to Vauxhall 
 Walk, ma'am," tiiought the captain ; " I '11 get 
 there bi-fore j-on." 
 
 He entered at once into a purely fictitious 
 description of the various (juarters of London 
 in which he liad himsi'lf resided, and adroitly 
 mentioning Vauxhall Walk as one of them, 
 saved Magdalen from the suddtjn (piestion re- 
 lating to that very locality with which ]\Irs. 
 Lecount had propo.scd startling her to begin 
 with. From his residences ke ])assed smoothly 
 to hiipself. and poured his whole family history 
 (in the character of Mr. Bygrave) into the 
 housekeeper's ears — not forgetting his broth- 
 er's grave in Honduras, with the monument by 
 the selt-taught negro artist, and his brother's 
 hugely corpident widow, on the ground-floor 
 of the boarding-house at Cheltenham. As a 
 means o'" giving Magdalen time to compose 
 herself this outburst of autobiographical infor- 
 mation attained its object, but it answered no 
 other purpose. Mrs. Lecount listened, with- 
 out being imposed on by a single word the 
 captain said to her. He merely confirmed her 
 conviction ol' the hoj)elessness of taking Noel 
 Vanstone into iier confidence before she had 
 facts to help her against Captain Wragge's 
 otherwise unassailable position in the identity 
 which he liad assumetj. She quietly waited 
 until lie had done, and then returned to the 
 charge. 
 
 " It is a coincidence that your uncle should 
 once have resided in Vauxhall Walk," ahe 
 19 
 
 said, addressing herself to Magdalen. " My 
 master has a house in the same place ; and we 
 lived there bc'fore we came to Aldborough. 
 May I inquire, Miss Bygrave, whether you 
 know anything of a lady named Miss Garth?" 
 
 This time she put the question before the 
 captain could interfere. Magdalen ought to 
 have been prepared for it by what had already 
 passed in her presence ; but her nerves had 
 been shaken by the earlier events of the day, 
 and she could only answer the cpiestion in the 
 negative,* after an instants preliminary pause 
 to control herself. Her hesitation was of too 
 momentary a nature to attract the attention 
 of any unsuspicious person. But it lasted long 
 enough to eon firm Mrs. l.,ecount's private con- 
 vietions, and to encourage her to advance a 
 little further. 
 
 " I only asked." she continued, steadily fi.x- 
 ing her eyes on Magdalen, steadily disregard- 
 in<r the eilbrts which Captain Wragge made 
 to join in the conversation, " because Miss 
 Garth is a str.inger to me, and I am curious to 
 find out what I can about her. The day before 
 we lell town. Miss Bygrave, a person who pre- 
 sented herself under the name I have men- 
 tioned, paid us a visit under very extraordinarv 
 circumstances." 
 
 With a smooth, ingratiating manner, with a 
 refinement of contempt that was little less 
 than devilish in its ingenious assumption of 
 tlie language of pity, s!ie now boldly described 
 j\Iagdalen's appearance in disguise, in Magda- 
 len's own presence. She sliglilingly referred 
 to the master and mistress of Combe-Raven as 
 jiersons who had always annoyed the elder 
 and more respectable branch of the family ; 
 she mourned over the chihlren as following 
 their parents' examph;, and attempting to 
 take a mercenary advantage of Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone under the protection of a respect- 
 able person's character and a respectable per- 
 son's name. Cleverly including her master in 
 the conversation, so as to prevent the captain 
 from elTecting a diversion in that quarter; 
 sparing no petty aggravation, striking at every 
 tender place which the tongue of a spiteful 
 woman can wound, she would beyond all 
 doubt have carried her point, and tortured 
 Magdalen into openly betraying herself, if 
 Captain Wragge had not checked her in full 
 career by a loud exclamation of alarm and a 
 sudden clutch at Magdalen's wrist. 
 
 '' Ten tliousand pardons, my dear madam! ' 
 cried the captain. " I see in my niece's face, 
 I feel in my niece's pulse, that one of her 
 violent neuralgic attacks has come on again. 
 My dear girl, why hesitate among friends to 
 confess that you are in pain ? What mistimed 
 politeness ! Her face shows she is suffering — 
 doesn't it, Mrs. Lecount ? Darting pains, Mr. 
 Vanstone, <lartiiig pains on the left side of the 
 head. Pull down your veil, my dear, and lean 
 on me. Our friends will excii.se you — our 
 excellent friends will exeuse you for the rest 
 of the dav." 
 
146 
 
 JQ^O NAME. 
 
 Before Mrs. Lecount could throw an in- 
 stant's doubt on the genuineness of the neu- 
 ralgic attack her mastei's fidgety sympathy 
 declared itself, exactly as the captain had an- 
 ticipated, in the most active manii'estations. 
 lie stopped the carriage, and insisted on an 
 immediate change in tlie arrangement of the 
 places — the comfortable back seat for Miss 
 Bygrave and her uncle, the front seat for Le- 
 count and himself. Had Lecount got her 
 smelling-bottle? Excellent creature! Let 
 )icr give it directly to Miss Bygrave, and let 
 the coaclinian drive carefully. If the coach- 
 man shook Miss Bygi-.-^ve he should not l)ave a 
 half-penny for himself. Mesmerism was fre- 
 quently useful in these cases. Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone's father had been the most powerful 
 mesmerist in Europe, and Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 was his father's son. Might he mesmerize. 
 IMight he order that infernal coachman to 
 draw up in a shady place adapted for the pur- 
 pose ? Would medical help he preferred ? 
 Could medical help be found any nearer than 
 Aldborongh ? That ass of a coachman didn't 
 know. Stop every respectable man who pass- 
 e! in a gig, and ask him if he was a doctor! 
 80 Mr. Noel Vanstone ran on — with bi'ief in- 
 tervals for breathing-time — in a continually 
 ascending scale of sympathy and self-impor- 
 TaTwe throughout the diive home. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount accepted her defeat without 
 uttering a word. From the moment when 
 Captain Wi-agge interrupted her her thin lips 
 closed, and ojiened no more for the remainder 
 6i' the joui'ney. The warmest expressions of 
 her master's anxiety for the suffering young 
 l."idy provoked from her no outward nuvnifes- 
 tation of anger. She took as little notice of 
 him as possible. She j)aid no attention what- 
 ever to the captain, whose exasperating con- 
 sideration for his vaiu|uished enemy made him 
 more polite to her than ever. The nearer 
 and the nearer they got to Aldborough, the 
 more and more fixedly Mrs. Lecount's hard 
 black eyes looked at Magdalen reclining on 
 the opposite seat, with her eyes closed and her 
 veil down. 
 
 It was only when the carriage stopped at 
 North Shingles, and when Captain Wragge 
 was iianding Magdalen out, that the house- 
 keeper at last condescended to notice him. 
 As he smiled and took off his hat at the car- 
 riage-door the strong restraint she had laid on 
 herself suddenly gave way, and she flashed 
 one look at him which scorched up the cap- 
 tain's politeness on the s])ot. He turned at 
 once, with m hasty acknowledgment of Noel 
 Vanstone's last sympathetic inquiries, and 
 took Magdalen Into the house. 
 
 " I told you she would show her claws," he 
 said. "It is not my fault that she scratched 
 you before I could stop her. She hasn't hurt 
 you, has she V" 
 
 " She has hurt me to some purpose," said 
 Magdalen — " she has given me the courage to 
 go on. Say what must be done to-morrow, 
 
 and trust me to do it.'' She sighed heavily 
 as she said those v>ords, and went up to her 
 room. 
 
 Captain Wragge walked meditatively into 
 the parlor and sat down to consider. He felt 
 by no means so certain as he could have 
 wished of the next proceeding on the part of 
 the enemy after the defeat of that day. The 
 housekeeper's farewell look had plainly in- 
 formed him that she was not at the end of her 
 resources yet, and the old militia-man felt the 
 full importance of preparing himself in good 
 time to meet the next step which she took in 
 advance. He lit a cigar, and bent his wary 
 mind on the dangei's of the future. 
 
 While Captain Wragge was considering in 
 the parlor at North Shingles, Mrs. Lecount 
 was meditatitig in her bedroom at Sea- View. 
 Her exasperation at the failure of her first at- 
 tempt to expose the conspiracy had not blind- 
 ed her to the instant necessity of making a 
 second effort before Noel Vanstone's growing 
 infatuation got beyond her control. The 
 snare set for Mag<ialen having failed, the 
 chance of entrapping Magilalen's sister was 
 the next chance to try. Mrs. I^-count ordered 
 a cup of tea, opened her writing-case, and be- 
 gan the rough draught of a letter to be sent 
 to Miss Vanstone the elder by the morrow's 
 post. 
 
 So the day's skirmish ended. The heat of 
 the battle was vet to come. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 All human penetration has its limits. Ac- 
 curately as Caj)tain Wragge had seen his way 
 hitherto, even his sliarp insiglit was now at 
 fault. Pie finished his cigar with the mortify- 
 ing conviction that he was totally unprepared 
 for Mrs. Lecount's next proceeding. 
 
 In this emergency his experience warned 
 him that there Was one safe course, and one 
 only, which he could take. He resolved to 
 try the confusing effect on the housekeeper of 
 a complete ciiange of tactics before she had 
 time to press her advantage and attack him 
 in the dark. With this view he sent the ser- 
 vant up stairs to request that Miss Bygrave 
 would come down and speak to him. 
 
 " I hope I don't disturb you." said the cap- 
 tain when Magdalen entered the room. "Al- 
 low me to apologize for the sniell of tobacco, 
 and to say two words on the subject of our 
 next proceedings. To put it with my custom- 
 ary frankness, Mrs. Lecount puzzles me, and 
 I propose to return the compliment by puz- 
 zhng her. The course of action which I have 
 to suggest is a very simple one. I have had 
 the honor of giving you a severe neuralgic 
 attack already, and I beg your permission 
 (when Mr. Noel Vanstone sends to Inquire 
 to-morrow morning) to take the further lib- 
 erty of laying you up altogether. Question 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 147 
 
 from Sea-View Cottaje: 'How is Miss By- 
 {Ti-avo this morning?' Answer fi'om Xortli 
 Shinirles: ' Mucli worse; Miss Bygrave is 
 confined to her room.' Question repeat(Hl 
 evcrv dav, say ibr a fortniglit : ' How is ]\liss 
 Bvrave ?' Answer repi-nlcd, it' neeessary. 
 for tile same time : ' No better.' Can you 
 bear the imprisonment? I see no objection 
 to your getting a breath of fresh air the first 
 tiling in the morning or the last tiling at 
 nii::iit. But for the whole of the day, there is 
 no disguising it, you must put yourself in the 
 same eategoiy with jNIrs. Wragge — you must 
 keep your room." 
 
 " What is your object in wisliing me to do 
 this V incjuired MagdaU-n. 
 
 " My object is twofold," replied tlie cap- 
 tain. " I blusli for my own stupidity ; liut the 
 fact is, I can t see my way plainly tt) JMrs. Le- 
 count's iie.vt move. All I feci sure of is, that 
 slie means to make anotlier attempt at open- 
 ing her master's eyes to tlie truth. Whatever 
 means slw may employ to discover your iden- 
 tity, i)ersonal communication with you viti.tt 
 be necessary to the accomplishment of her 
 object. Very good. If I stop that communi- 
 cation, I put an obstacle in her way at start- 
 ing — or, as we say at cards, I force her hand. 
 Do vou see the point?" 
 
 Magdalen saw it jilainly. The captain went 
 on : 
 
 " jMy second reason for shutting you up," he 
 said, " refc!-s <Mitirely to Mrs. Lecount's mas- 
 ter. Tlie growth of love, my dear girl, is, in 
 one respect, unlike all other growths — it 
 nourishes under adverse circumstances. Our 
 first course of action is to make Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone feel tlie charm of your society. Our 
 iie.xt is to drive him distracted by the loss of 
 it. I should have proposed a few more meet- 
 ings, witli a view to furthering this end, but 
 lor our present critical position toward l\Irs. 
 Lecount. As it is, we must trust to the effect 
 you produced yesterday, and try the experi- 
 ment (n a sudden separation rather .sooner 
 than I could liave otherwise wished. I shall 
 see ]\Ir. Noel Vanstone, though you don t — 
 and if there »'.« a raw place established any- 
 where about the region of that gentleman's 
 heart, trust me to hit him on it I You are 
 now ill lull possession of my views. Take 
 your time to consider, and give me your an- 
 swer — Yes or No." 
 
 '"Any eiiange is for the better," said Magda- 
 len," *• whicii keeps me out of tlie company of 
 Mrs. Lecount and lier master ! Let it be as 
 you wish." 
 
 She had hitherto answered faintly and wea- 
 rily ; but she spoke those last words with a 
 heightened tone and a rising color — signs 
 which warned Captain Wragge not to press 
 her farther. 
 
 " Very good," said the captain. " As usual, 
 we understand each other. I sec you are 
 tired, and I won't detain you any longer." 
 
 He rose to open the door, stopped hall-way 
 
 to it, and came back again. " Leave me to 
 arrange matters with tlie servant down stairs," 
 he continued. " You can't absolutely keep 
 your bed, and wc must purchase tiie girl's 
 discretion when she answers the door — with- 
 out taking her into our confidence, of course. 
 I will make her understand that she is to say 
 you are ill, just as she miglit say you are not 
 at home, as a way of keeping unwelcome 
 accjuaintances out of the house. Allow mo 
 to open the door for you. I beg your p.irvlon, 
 you are going into Mrs. Wragne's workroom 
 instead of going to your own." 
 
 "I know I am." said ^Lygdalen. '•! wish 
 to remove Mrs. Wragge from the worst room 
 in the house, and to take her up stairs with 
 me." 
 
 " For the evening?" 
 
 " For the whole ibrtnight." 
 
 Ca[)tain Wragge (bllowed her into tlie din- 
 ing-room, and wisely closed the door before 
 he spoke again. 
 
 " Do you seriously mean to indict my wife's 
 society on yourself ibr a fortnight?" he asked, 
 in great surjirise. 
 
 " Your wife is the only innocent creature 
 in this guilty house," she burst out, vehe- 
 mently. " I must and will have her with 
 me !" 
 
 " Praj- don't agitate yourselt'," said tiie cap- 
 tain. '• Take Mrs. Wragge, by all niean.s. I 
 don't want her." ILaving resigned the partner 
 of his existence in those terms, he discreetly 
 returned to the parlor. " The weak miss of 
 the sex I" thought the captain, tapping his 
 sagacious head. " Lay a strain on ttie iemalc 
 intellect, and the female temper gives way 
 directly. ' 
 
 The strain to which the captain alluded 
 was not confined that evening to the female 
 intellect at North Shingles: it extended to 
 the female intellect at Sea-View. For nearly 
 two hours Mrs. Ivccount sat at her desk, 
 writing, correcting, and writing again, before 
 she conhi produei; a letter to Mis? Vanstone 
 the elder which exactly accoinplished the ob- 
 ject she wanted to attain. At last the rough 
 draught was completed to her satisfaetion, 
 and she made a fair copy of It forthwith, to 
 be posted the next day. 
 
 Her letter thus jn-oluced was a masterpiece 
 of ingenuity. After the first prelinunary 
 sentences the housekeeper plainly iidbrmed 
 Norah of the a|)pearanee of the visitor in 
 disguise at Vanxhail Walk; of the conversa- 
 tion which passed at the interview ; and of 
 her own suspicion that the person claiming to 
 be Miss (iartli was, in ail probability, the 
 younger Miss Vanstone herself Having told 
 the truth thus far, Mrs. Lecount next pro- 
 ceeded to say that her master was in posses- 
 sion of evidence which would justify him in 
 putting the law in force; that he knew the 
 conspiracy with which he was threatened to 
 b« then in process of direction against him at 
 
14$ 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Aldborough ; and that he only hesitated to 
 protect himself in deference to family consid- 
 erations, and in the hope that the elder Mi?s 
 Vanstone mi^'ht so influence her sister as to 
 render it unnecessary to proceed to extremi- 
 ties. 
 
 Under these circumstances (the letter con- 
 tinued) it was plainly necessary that the dis- 
 guised visitor to Vauxhall Walk should be 
 properly identified — for if Mrs. Locount's 
 guess proved to be wrong, and if the person 
 turned out to be a stranger, Mr. Noel Yan- 
 stone was positively resolved to prosecute in 
 his own defense. Events at Aldborough, on 
 which it was not necessary to dwell, would 
 enable Mrs. Lecount in a few days to gain 
 sight of the suspected person in her own 
 character. But as the housekeeper was en- 
 tirely unacquainted with the younger Miss 
 Vanstone, it was obviously desirable that some 
 better-informed person should, in this particu- 
 lar, take the matter in hand. If the elder 
 Miss Vanstone happened to be at liberty to 
 come to Aldborough herself, would she kindly 
 write and say so? and Mrs. Lecount would 
 write back again to appoint a day. If, on the 
 other hand, Miss Vanstone was prevented from 
 taking the journey, Mrs. Lecount suggested 
 that her reply should contain the fullest de- 
 scription of her sister's personal appeai-ance — 
 should mention any little peculiarities whicli 
 might exist in the way of marks on her face 
 or her hands — and should state (in case she 
 had written lately) what the address was in 
 her last letter, and failing that, what the post- 
 mark on the envelope. With this informa- 
 tion to help her, Mrs. Lecount would, in the 
 interest of the misguided young lady herself, 
 accept the responsibility of privately identi- 
 fying her; and would write back immediately 
 to acquaint the elder Miss Vanstone with the 
 result. 
 
 The difficulty of sending this letter to the 
 rinfht address gave Mrs. Lecount very little 
 trouble. Remembering the name of the lawyer 
 who had pleaded the cause of the two sisters 
 in Michael Vanstone's time, she directed hwr 
 
 letter to "Miss Vanstone, care of Pen- 
 
 dril, Esquire, London.' This she inclosed in 
 a second envelope, addressed to Mi-. Noel 
 Vanstone's solicitor, with a line inside, i-e- 
 questing that gentleman to send it at once to 
 the office of Mr. Pendril. 
 
 "Now," thought Mrs. Lecount, as she locked 
 the letter up in her desk, preparatory to 
 posting it the next day, with her own hand, 
 " Now I have got her !'' 
 
 The next morning the servant from Sea- 
 View came, with her master's compliments, 
 to make inquiries after Miss Bygrave s health. 
 Captain Wragge's bulletin was duly announc- 
 ed — Miss Bygrave was so ill as to be con- 
 fined to her room. 
 
 On the reception of this intelligence, Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone's anxiety led him to call at 
 
 North Shingles himself, when he went out for 
 his afternoon walk. Miss Bygrave was no 
 better. He inquired if he could see Mr. By- 
 grave. The wary captain was prepared to 
 meet this emergency. He thought a little 
 irritating suspense would do Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone no harm ; and he had carefully (-barged 
 the servant, in case of necessity, with her 
 answer : '* Mr. Bygrave begged to be ex- 
 cused ; he was not able to see any one.' 
 
 On the second day inquiries were made as 
 before, by message in the morning, and by 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone himself in the afternoon. 
 The morning answer relating to Magdalen 
 was, " A shade better." The afternoon an- 
 swer (relating to Captain Wragge) was, " Mr. 
 Bvgrave has just gone out." That evening 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's temper was very uncer- 
 tain ; and Mrs. Lecount's patience and tact 
 were sorely tried in the effort to avoid offend- 
 ing him. 
 
 On the third morning the report of the suf- 
 fering young lady was less favorable — "Miss 
 Bygrave was still very poorly, and not able to 
 leave her bed." The servant, returning to 
 Sea-View with this message, met the postman, 
 and took into the breakfast-room with her two 
 letters addressed to Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 The first letter was in a handwriting familiar 
 to the housekeeper. It was from the medical 
 attendant on her invalid brother at Zurich ; 
 and it announced that the patient's malady had 
 latterly altered in so marked a manner for the 
 better that there was every hope now of pre- 
 serving his life. 
 
 The address on the second letter was in a 
 strange handwi'iting. Mrs. Lecount, conclud- 
 ing that it was the answer from Miss Vanstone, 
 waited to read it until breakfast was over and 
 she could retire to her own room. 
 
 She opened the letter, looked at once for the 
 name at the end, and started a little as she 
 read it. The signature was not " Norah Van- 
 stone," but " Harriet Garth." 
 
 Miss Garth's letter announced that the elder 
 Miss Vanstone had, a week since, accepted an 
 engagement as governess — subject to the con- 
 dition of joining tlie family of her employer 
 at their temporary residence in the south of 
 France, antl of returning with them when they 
 came back to England, probably in a month 
 or six weeks time. During tlie interval of 
 this necessary absence Lliss Vanstone had re- 
 quested Miss Garth to open all her letters, her 
 main object in making that arrangement being 
 to provide for the speedy answering of any. 
 communication which might arrive for her from 
 her sister. Miss Magdalen Vanstone had not 
 written since the middle of July — on which 
 occasion the post-mark on the letter showed 
 that it must have been posted in London, in 
 the District of Lambeth — and her elder sister 
 had left England in a state of the most dis- 
 tressing anxiety on her account. 
 
 Having completed this explanation. Miss 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 149 
 
 Garth then mentioned that family circum- 
 stances prevented lier from travellinfr person- 
 ally to Aldl>oroujih to assist Mrs. Lecount's 
 ol>ject, hut that she was provided with a sub- 
 stitute, in every way fitter for the purpose, in 
 the person of Mr. Pendril. Tliat trentleman 
 was well acquainted with Miss Majrdalen Van- 
 stone ; and his proies.-.ional experience and 
 discj-etion would render liis assistance doubly 
 valuable. He had kindly consented to travel 
 to Aldboroujzh whenever it mijiht be thoujTht 
 necessary. But as his time was very valuable 
 Miss Gai-th specially requested that he mi<rht 
 not be sent for until Mrs. Lecount was (piite 
 sure of the day on which his services might be 
 rc(|nired. 
 
 \Vhile proposlnjx this arranpMuent Miss 
 (lartli added that she tbouijht it right to fur- 
 nish her correspondent with a written descrip- 
 tion of the younger Miss Vanstone as well. 
 An emergency might happen wliich wouUl 
 allow Mrs. Lecount no time for securing Mr. 
 i'didril's services; and the execution of Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone's intentions toward the un- 
 happy girl who was the object of his forbear- 
 ance might be fatally delayed by an unforeseen 
 difliculty in establishing her identity. The 
 personal desc)'i])tion. ti-ansmitteil under these 
 circumstances, then followed. It omitted no 
 personal peculiarity by which Magdalen could 
 be recognized ; and it included the " two little 
 moles close together on the left sid(.' of the 
 neck," which had been formerly mentioned in 
 the print<>d handbills sent to York. 
 
 In conclusion, ISIiss (iarth expressed her 
 fears that Mrs. Lecount's suspifions were only 
 too likely to be proved true. While, however, 
 there was the faintest chance that the con- 
 spiracy might turn out to be directed by a 
 stranger. Miss Garth felt bound, in gratitude 
 toward Mr. Noel Vanstone, to assist the legal 
 proceedings which would in that case be in- 
 stituted. She accordingly appended her own 
 formal denial — which she would personally 
 repeat, if necessary — of any identity between 
 herself and the person in disguise who had 
 made use of her name. She was tlu; Miss 
 Garth who had filled the situation of the late 
 Mr. Andrew Vanstone's governess; and she j 
 had never in her life been in, or isear, the i 
 neighborhood of Vauxhall Walk. 
 ' With this disclaimer — and with the writer's 
 fervent fK<surances that slie would do all for 
 Magdalen's advantage whi( h her sister n\ight 
 have done if her sister had Ik-cu in England — 
 the letter concludeil. It was siu'iied in full, 
 and was dated with the Ijusiness-like accuracy 
 in such matters which had always distinguished 
 Miss Garth's character. 
 
 This letter placed a formidable weapon in the 
 housekeeper's hands. 
 
 It provided a means of establishing Miss 
 Bygrave's identity through the intervention of 
 a lawyer by profession. It contained a per- 
 sonal description minute enough to be used to 
 
 advantage, if necessary, before Mr. Pendril's 
 appearance. It presented a signed exposure 
 of the false Miss Garth, under the hand of the 
 true Miss Garth; and it established the fact 
 that the last letter received by the elder Miss 
 Vanstone from the younger had been posted 
 (and therefore probably written) in the neigh- 
 borhood of Vauxhall Walk. If any later letter 
 had been received, with the Aldborough post- 
 mark, the chiin of evidence, so far as the 
 question of localities was concerned, might 
 doubtle.ss have been more complete. But. as 
 it was, there was testimony enough (aided as 
 that testimony might be, Ijy the fragment of 
 the brown al])a<'a dress still in Mrs. Lecount's 
 possession) to raise the veil which hung over 
 the conspiracy, and to jilace Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone face to face with the plain and startling 
 truth. 
 
 The one obstacle which now stood in the 
 Avay of innnediate action on the housekeeper's 
 part was the ob-tacle of Miss Bygrave's present 
 sei-lusion within the limits of her own room. 
 The question of gaining personal access to her 
 was a question which must be decided before 
 any comnmnication could be opened with Mr. 
 Pendril. Mrs. Lecount ]iut on her bonnet at 
 once, and called at North Shingles to try what 
 di.scoveries she could make ibr herself before 
 post-time. 
 
 On this occasion Mr. Bygrave was at home, 
 and she was admitted without the least di(H- 
 culty. 
 
 Careful consideration that morning had de- 
 cided Captain W'raggc on advancing matters a 
 little nearer to the crisis. The means by which 
 he projwsed achieving this result made it nec- 
 essary for him to see the housekeeper and her 
 master separately, and to set them at variamc 
 by producing two totally o])posite impressions 
 relating to himself on their minds. Mrs. Le- 
 count's visit, therefore, instead of causing him 
 any embarrassment, was the most welcome oc- 
 currenre he could have wislied for. He received 
 her in the parlor with a marked restraint of 
 manner for which she was (juite uni)repared. 
 His ingratiating smile was gone, and an im- 
 penetrable solemnity of countenance appeared 
 in its stead. 
 
 "I have ventured to intrude on you, Sir." 
 saiil Mrs. Lecount, " to express the regret with 
 which both my mastd- and I have heard of 
 Miss Bygrave's illness. Is there no improve- 
 ment V" 
 
 " No, ma'am," re])lied the captain, as briefly 
 as possible ; " my niece is no better." 
 
 " I have had some exi)erience, Mr. Bygrave, 
 in nursing. If I could be of any u.se — " 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Lecount. There is no 
 necessity for our taking advantage of your 
 kindness." 
 
 This plain answer was followed by a mo- 
 ment's silence. The housekeeper felt some 
 little perplexity. What had become- of Mr. 
 Bygrave's elaborate courtesy, and Mr. By- 
 graves many words ? Did he want to offend 
 
ISO 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 her ? If ho did, Mrs. Locount then and 
 there determined that he should not gain his 
 object. 
 
 " May I inquire the nature of the illnes}; ?" 
 she persisted. " It is not connected, I ,hope, 
 Tvitli our excursion to Dunwich ?" 
 
 •' I regret to say, ma'am," replied the cap- 
 tain, " it began with that neuralgic attack in 
 the carriage." 
 
 " So 1 so !" thought Mrs. Lecount. " He 
 doesn't even tn/ to make me think the illness 
 a real one; he throws ofl' the mask at start- 
 ing ! — Is it a nervous illness, Sir V she added, 
 aloud. 
 
 The captain answered by a solemn affiiina- 
 tive inclination of the head. 
 
 '• Then you have two nervous sufferers in 
 the house, ^Ir. Bvorave ?" 
 
 _ " 1 es, ma am — two. My wife and my 
 niece." 
 
 " That is rather a strange coincidence of 
 misfortunes." 
 
 '• It is, ma'am — very strange." 
 
 In spite of Mrs. Lecount's resolution not to 
 be olF.nded. Captain Wragge's exasjjcrating 
 insensibility to every stroke she aimed at 
 him began to ruffle her. She was conscious 
 of some little difficulty in secui-ing her self- 
 posses.vi&n before she could say anything 
 more. 
 
 '• Is there no immediate hope,"' sli" resumed, 
 "of Miss Bx'gravo being aole to leave; her 
 room ?■' 
 
 "None whatever, ma'am." 
 
 " You are satisfied, I supoose, with the med- 
 ical attendance '.■"' 
 
 " I have no medical attendance," said the 
 captain, composedlv- '' I watch the case mv- 
 self." 
 
 The gathering venom in Mrs. Lecount 
 swelled up at that reply, and overflowed at 
 her lips. 
 
 "Your smattering of science, Sir, ' she said, 
 with a malicious smile, " includes, I presume, 
 a smattering of medicine as well V" 
 
 " It does, ma'am," answered the captain, 
 without the slightest disturbance of face or 
 manner. " I know as much of one as I do of 
 the other." 
 
 Tiie tone in which he spoke those words left 
 Mrs. Lecount but one dignified alternative. 
 She rosi' to terminate the interview. The 
 temptation of the moment proved too much 
 for lier, and sb.e could not resist casting the 
 shadow of a threat over Captain Wragge at 
 parting. 
 
 " I defer thanking you. Sir, for the manner 
 in which you have received me," she said, 
 '■ until I can pay my debt of obligation to 
 some purpose. In the meantime I am glad to 
 infer, from the absence of a medical attend- 
 ant in the house, that Miss Bygrave's illness 
 is much less serious than I had supposed it to 
 be when I came here." 
 
 " I never contradict a lady, ma'am," re- 
 joined the incorrigible captain. " If it is your 
 
 pleasure, when we next meet, to think my 
 niece quite well, I shall bow resignedly to the 
 expression of your opinion." With those 
 words he followed the housekeeper- into the 
 passage, and politely opened the door for her. 
 " I mark the trick, ma'am !" he said to himself, 
 as he closed it again. " The trump-card in 
 your hand is a sight of my niece, and I '11 
 take care you don t play it !" 
 
 He returned to tiie parlor and composedly 
 awaited the next event which was likely to 
 happen — a visit Irom Mrs. J^ecount's master. 
 In less than an hour results justified Captain 
 Wragge's anticipations, and ^Ir. Noel Van- 
 stone walked in. 
 
 " My dear Sir !" cried the captain, cordially 
 seizing his visitor's reluctant hand, " I know 
 what you have come for. Mrs. Lecount has 
 told you of her visit here, and has no doubt 
 ileciared that my niece's illness is a mere sub- 
 terfuge. You teel surprised, you feel hurt — 
 you suspect me of trifling with your kind sym- 
 pathies — in short, you recjuire an explanation. 
 That explanation you shall have. Take a seat, 
 Mr. Vanstone. I am about to throw myself 
 I on your sense and judgment as a man of the 
 I worUl. I acknowledge tiiat Ave are in a false 
 j position. Sir; and I tell you plainly at the 
 I outset — your housekeeper is the cause of it." 
 I For once in his life Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 I opi.-ned his eyes. " Lecount! " he exclaimed, 
 in the utmost bewilderment. 
 
 " The same. Sir," replied Captain Wragge. 
 " I am al'raid I oflended Mrs. Lecount, when 
 she came here this morning, by a want of cor- 
 diality in my manner. I am a plain man, and 
 1 I can't assume what I don't feel. Far be it 
 I from me to breathe a word against your house- 
 j keeper's characBWH She is, no doubt, a most 
 I excellent and trustworthy woman; but she 
 I has one serious failing (.'ommon to persons at 
 i her time oi' life who occupy her situation — 
 , she is jealous of her influence over her mas- 
 I ter, although you may not have observed it." 
 i " I beg your pardon," interposed Mr. Noel 
 I Vanstone ; " my observation is remarkably 
 j quick. Nothing es;;apes it." 
 I "In that case. Sir," resumed the captain, 
 ! " you can not I'ail to have noticed that Mrs. 
 j Lecount has allowed her jealousy to affect her 
 i conduct toward my niece." 
 I Mr. Noel Vanstone thought of the domestic • 
 ■ passage-atarms betwe*;n Mrs. Lecount and 
 himself when his guests of the evening had 
 left Sea-View, and failed to see his way to 
 any direct reply. He expressed the utmost 
 surprise and distress — he thought Lecount 
 had done her best to be agreeable on the drive 
 to Dunwich — he hoped and trusted there 
 was some unfortunate mistake. 
 
 " Do you mean to say. Sir," pursued the 
 captain, severely, " that you have not noticed 
 the circumstance yourself? As a man of 
 honor and a man of observation, you can't tell 
 me that I Your housekeeper's superficial ci- 
 vility has not hidden your housekeeper's real 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 1*1 
 
 feeling. My niece has seen it. and so l)ave 
 you, and so have I. My nico(\ Mr. Vanstone, 
 is a ,«on!«itive, hiojh-spiritod irirl ; and she has 
 positively declined to cultivate Mrs. Lecount's 
 society for the future. Don't misunderstand 
 mc ! To my niece, as well as to mvself. tiic 
 attraction of //»»»• society, Mr. Vanstone, re- 
 mains the same. ISIiss By<;ra^e sim])!v de- 
 clines to be an apple of discoid (if you -will 
 I)ermit the classical allusion ?) cast into vour 
 lousehold. I think she is rii>ht, :•(» far; and I 
 frankly confess that I have e.xajrgeratcd a 
 nervous indisposition, from wliifli she is really 
 suflering, into a serious iihiess — ])urclv and 
 entirely to jirevent tliose two hadies, for the 
 present, from meeting iivery day on the Pa- 
 rade, and fi-om carrying unpleasant impressions 
 of eacli other into your domestic establishment 
 and mine." 
 
 " I allow nothing unpleasant in mi/ estab- 
 lishment," remarked Mi-. Noel Vanstone. 
 " I 'm master — you nnist haw noticed that 
 already, Mr. Bygrave ? — I ni master." I 
 
 " No doubt of it, my dear Sir. But to live I 
 morning, noon, and night in tiie perpi-iual '■ 
 exercise of your authority is more like tlie ' 
 life of a governor of a prison than the life of 
 a master of a household. The wear and tear ' 
 — consider the wear and tear." 
 
 "It strikes you in tliat light, does it?"[ 
 .said Mr. Noel Vanstone, sootlu-d by Captain 
 Wragge's ready recognition of his authority. 
 " 1 don't know tliat you 're not right. But I 
 must take some steps directly. I won't be . 
 made ridiculous — I 11 send "j>ecount away 
 altogether sooner than be made ridiculous.'' 
 His color rose; and In- folded his little arms 
 fiercely. Captain Wraggi-'s ar)-tfully-irritating 
 e.xplauation had awakened ^ t dormant .sus- I 
 picion of his housekeeper's iHPiienrt' over him 
 which habitually lay hidden in his mind, and , 
 which Mrs. Lecount was now not present to i 
 charm back to repose as usual. " What must i 
 ^liss Bygrave think of me ! " he exclaimed, 
 with a sudden outburst of ve.xation. '• 1 'II | 
 send Lecount away — damme, I '11 send Le- | 
 count away on the spot I " i 
 
 " No, no, no I " said tin; captain, whose in- 
 terest it was to avoid driving Mrs. Lticonut j 
 to any de.-perate extremities. " Why take | 
 strong measures when mild measures will do V j 
 Mrs. Lecount is an old strvunt; Mr.s. Lecount ! 
 is attached and u.^'fuj. She. has this little ! 
 drawback of jealousy — j(.-;d«>usy of her do- I 
 mestic position with her baciiclor" master. She j 
 sees you paying courteous attention to a hand- | 
 some young lady ; she sees tliat young lady 
 properly sensil)le of your politeness — and, j 
 poor soul, she Io<es her temper! What is the 
 obvious remedy ? Humor her — make a man- 
 ly concession lo the weaker se.x. If Mrs. 
 Lecount is with yon the next time we meet on 
 the Parade, walk the other way. If Mi-;., j 
 Lecount is not with you, give us the ])leasure ' 
 of your company by all means. In short, mv ! 
 dear Sir, try tiie finivin-r iu motlu (an we 
 
 classical men say) before you commit yourself 
 to ihu j'orlilt^r m re ■'" 
 
 There was one excellent reason why Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone should take Captain Wrasrge'a 
 conciliatory advice. An open rupture "with 
 Mrs. Lecount — even if he could have sum- 
 moned tlie courage to face it — would imply 
 the ri'cognition of her claims lo a ))rc)vision in 
 acknowledgment of the services she had ren- 
 dered to his father and to himself His sor- 
 did nature (juailed within him ;>,t the bare 
 I prospect of expressing the emotion of grati- 
 1 tude in a pecuniary form; and, alter first 
 : consulting ajiiiearances by a .^how of liesitation, 
 he consented to adopt tlie captain's sncrrres- 
 tion, and to humor Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 " But I must be considered in thi.s matter," 
 proceeded Mr. Noel Vanstone. "JMy eon- 
 cession to Lecount's weakness must not bo 
 misunderstood. Mi.ss Bygrave must not bo 
 allowed to suppose I am afraid of my house- 
 keeper." 
 
 The captain dcelarcd that no swclt idea 
 ever had entered or ever could enter Miss 
 Bygrave's mind. Mr. Noel Vanstone returned' 
 to the subject nevertheless, ng:iin and jurain 
 with his customary pertinacity. WouliHt be 
 indiscreet if he asked leave to set himself 
 right personally with Miss Bygrave? AVas 
 thi-re any hope that he migiit h.-ive the hap- 
 piness of seeing her on that day ? or. if not, 
 on the next day ? or, if not, on tiie day after? 
 Captain Wragge answered cautionsly': h«! felt 
 the importance of not rousing Noel Van- 
 strjne's distrust by too great an alacrity in com- 
 plying with his wishes. 
 
 " An interview to-day, my dear Sir, is out 
 of the (pustion," he said. " She is not well 
 enough ; she wants repose. To-morrow I 
 propose taking her out before the heat of the 
 day begins — not merely to avoid embarrass- 
 ment after what has happened with ^Irs. Le- 
 count — but because the morning air and the 
 morning quiet are essential in t'>e:<e nervous 
 cases. We are early {>eople here — we shall 
 start at seven o'cliMk. If you are early too, 
 and if you would like to join us, I need liardlv 
 say that m'c can feel no objection to vour cooi- 
 pany on our morning v.alk. Tlu^ hour, I am 
 aware, h an unusual one ; but later in the day 
 my nieee m;iy bu resting on the sofa, and may 
 not be able to sn-e visitors." 
 
 Having maile this projwsal purely for the 
 purpose of enabling Mr. Noel Vanstoiie to 
 escape lo North ShingKs at an hour in the 
 niorning wiien his Ii<iH;^.kefper would be prob- 
 ably in bed. Captain Wragge left him to take 
 tlie hint, it' be could, as indirectly as it had 
 been given. He proved sharp enough (tho 
 case being one in which his own interests 
 w<'re concerned) to close with the ]>t-oposal 
 on the spot. Politely declaring that be was 
 always rn early man when the niorning pre- 
 sented any special attraction to him, he ac- 
 cepted I lie appointment for seven o'clock, and 
 rose soon afivrw.-.rd lo take hi» leave. 
 
162 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 " One word at partino;," said Captain 
 Wraf^"-e. '• This conversation is entirely be- 
 tween* ourselves. Mrs. Lecount must know 
 nothing of the impression she has produced 
 on my" niece. 1 have only mentioned it to 
 vou to account for my apparently churlish 
 Conduct, and to satisfy your own mind. In 
 confidence, Mr. Vanstone — strictly in confi- 
 dence. Good-morning !" 
 
 With these parting words the captain bowed 
 his visitor out. Unless some unexpected dis- 
 aster occurred, he now saw his way safely to 
 the end of the enterprise. He had gained 
 two important steps in advance that morning. 
 He had sown the seeds of variance between 
 the housekeeper and her master, and he had 
 given Mr. Noel Vanstone a' common interest 
 with Magdalen and himself in keeping a se- 
 cret from Mrs. Lecount. " We have caught 
 our man," thought Captain Wragge, cheer- 
 fully rubbing his hands— "we have caught our 
 
 man at last!" ,, ^t , -,- 
 
 On leaving North Shmgles Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone walked straight home, fuiiy restored to 
 his place in his own estimation, and sternly I 
 determined to carry matt(^rs with a high hand j 
 if he found himself in collision with Mrs. Le- I 
 
 count. 
 
 The housekeeper received her master at the 
 door with her mildest manner and her gentlest 
 smile. She addressed him with downcast 
 eyes; she opposed to his contemplated asser- 
 tion of independence a barrier of impenetra- 
 ble respect. o- „ i ^. .-i- 
 
 "May I venture to ask. Sir, she began, it 
 
 vour visit to North Shingles has led you to 
 form the same conclusion as mine on the sub- 
 ject of Miss Bvirraves illness V" 
 
 " Certainlv not, Lecount. I consider your 
 conclusion to have been both hasty and preju- 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it. Sir. I felt hurt by 
 Mr Bv<Trave's rude reception of me; but I 
 was not*^ aware tiiat my judgment was prej- 
 udiced by it. Perhaps he received you, Sir, 
 •with a warmer welcome ?" 
 
 - He received me like a gentleman— that is 
 all I think it necessary to say, Lecount— he 
 received me like a gentleman.'" 
 
 This answer satisfied Mrs. Lecount on the 
 one doubtful point that had perplexed her. 
 Whatever Mr. Bvgrave's sudden coolness to- 
 ward herself might mean, his polite rec|ction 
 of her master implied that the risk W de- 
 tection had not daunted him, and that the 
 conspiracy was still in full progress. Ihe 
 housekeeper's eves brightened. She had ex- 
 pressly calculated on this result. Alter a 
 mome'nt's thinking, she addressed her master 
 with another question : 
 
 "You will probably visit Mr. Bygrave, 
 
 again. Sir ?" . . r i » 
 
 " Of course I shall visit him— it 1 please. 
 " And perhaps see Miss Bygrave, if she gets 
 
 better?" , , 
 
 '• Whv not ? I should be glad to know why 
 
 
 not ? Is it necessary to ask your leave first, 
 Lecount ?" 
 
 "Bv no means. Sir. As you have often 
 said (and as I have often agreed with you), 
 vou are master. It may surprise you to hear 
 it, Mr. Noel, but I have a private reason for 
 wishing that you should see Miss Bygrave 
 again." 
 
 Mr. Noel started a little, and looked at his 
 housekeeper with some curiosity. 
 
 " I have a strange fancy of my own, Sir, 
 about that young lady," proceeded Mrs. Le- 
 count. "If you will excuse my fancy, and 
 indulge it, you will do me a favor for which I 
 shall be very grateful." 
 
 " A fancy ?" repeated her master, in grow- 
 ing surprise. " What fancy?" 
 
 " Only this, Sir," said Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 She took from one of the neat little pockets 
 
 of her apron a morsel of note paper, carefully 
 
 folded into the smallest possible compass, and 
 
 respectfully placed it in Noel Vanstone's hand. 
 
 " If you are willing to oblige an old and 
 
 faithful servant, Mr. Noel," she said, in a very 
 
 quiet and very impressive manner, " you will 
 
 kindlv put that morsel of paper into your 
 
 waistcoat-pocket ; you will open and read it 
 
 for the first time tvhen ynu are next in Mm 
 
 Byqrace's company: and you will say nothing 
 
 I of what has now passed between us to any 
 
 j living creature, from this time to that. ^ I 
 
 1 promise to explain my strange request. Sir, 
 
 I when you have done what I ask, and when 
 
 1 your next interview with Miss Bygrave has 
 
 come to an end." 
 
 She courtesied with her best grace, and 
 quietlv left the room. ^ , •, j 
 
 Mr.' Noel Vanstone looked Irom the folded 
 paper to the door, and from the door back to 
 the folded paper, in unutterable a.-<tonishment. 
 A mystery in his own house, under his own 
 
 nose ! What did it mean 
 
 It meant that Mrs. Lecount had not waste 
 her time that morning. While the captail 
 was casting the net over his visitor at Nortl 
 Shin'^les, the housekeeper was steadily mining 
 the ground under his feet. The folded paper 
 contained nothing less than a carefully-writ- 
 ten extract from the personal description of 
 Magdalen in Miss Garth's letter. With a 
 darfng ingenuity which even Captain Wragge 
 might'' have envied, Mrs. Lecount had found 
 her instrument for exposing the conspiracy 
 in the unsuspecting person of the victim him- 
 self! 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 Late that evening, when Magdalen and 
 Mrs. Wraf ge came back from their walk in 
 the dark.'^tlie captain stopped Magdalen on 
 her way up stairs, to inform her of the pro- 
 ceedincrs of the day. He added the expres- 
 sion ot^his opinion, that the time had come for 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 brinrjing Mi*. Noel Vanstone, with the k'ast 
 possible delay, to the point of making a pro- 
 posal. She nierely answered that she under- 
 stood him, and that she Avonld do what was 
 required of her. Captain Wragge recjuested 
 her, in tliat case, to oblige him by joining a 
 walking -excursion in Mr. Noel Vanstone's 
 comi)any, at seven o'clock the next morning. 
 "I will be ready," she replied. "Is there 
 anything more ?" There was nothing more. 
 Magdalen bade him good-niglit, and returned 
 to her o\vrv>! oom. 
 
 She had' .'iiown the ?ame disinclination to 
 remain any longer than was necessjiry in the 
 captain's company throughout the tliree days 
 of her seclusion in the house. 
 
 During all that time, instead of appearing 
 to weary of I^Ir.s. Wraggc's society, slie had 
 patiently, almost eagerly, associated herself 
 with her companion's one absorbing pursuit. 
 She, who had often chafed and fretted in past 
 days, under the monotony of her life in the 
 freedom of Combe-Riiven, now accejited, with- 
 out a murmur, the monotony of her life at 
 Mrs. Wragge's work-table. Siie, who had 
 hated the siglit of a needle and thread in old 
 times — who had never yet worn an article of 
 dress of her own making — now toiled as anx- 
 iously over llie making of Mrs. Wragge's gown, 
 and bore as patiently Avith Mrs. Wragge's 
 blunders, as if the sole object of her existence 
 had been the successful completion of that 
 one dress. Anything was welcome to her — 
 the trivial difliculties of fitting a gown ; the 
 small, ceaseless chatter of the poor half-witted 
 creature, who was so pi-oud of her assistance, 
 and so happy in her company — anything was 
 welcome that shut her out from the coming 
 future, from the destiny to whii-h she stood 
 self-condemned. That sorely-wounded nat- 
 ure was soothed by such a trifle now as the 
 grasp of her companion's rough and friendly 
 hand — that desolate heart was cheered, when 
 night parted them, by Mrs. Wragge's kiss. 
 
 The caj)tain's isolated position in .the house 
 produced no depressing elfect on the captain's 
 easy and equal spirits. Instead of resenting 
 Magdalen's systematic avoidance of his soci- 
 ety, he looked to results, and highly approved 
 of it. Tlie more she neglected him for his 
 wife, the more directly useful she became in 
 the character of Mrs. Wragge's self-appointed 
 guardian. He had more than once seriously 
 contemplated revoking the concession which 
 had been extorted from him, and removing 
 bis wife at his own sole responsibility out of 
 barm's way; and he had only abandoned the 
 idea on discovering that Magdalen's resolution 
 to keep Mrs. W^ragge in lier own company was 
 really serious. Wliile the two were together, 
 bis main anxiety was set at rest. They kept 
 their door locked, by his own desire, while he 
 was out of the house, and, whatever Mrs. 
 Wraggc might do, Magdalen was to be trust- 
 ed not to open it until h*; came back. That 
 iMgbt Captain Wragge enjoyed his cigar with 
 20 
 
 a mind at ease, and sipped his brandy and 
 water in happy ignorance of the pitfall which 
 Mrs. Locount had prepared for him in the 
 morning. 
 
 Punctually at seven o'clock Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone made his appearance. The moment he 
 entered the room Captain Wragge detected 
 a change in his visitor's look and manner. 
 "Something wrong!" thought the captain. 
 " We have not done with Mrs. Lecount yet." 
 
 " IIoAv is Miss Bygrave this morning?" asked 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone. " Well enougli, 1 hope, 
 for our early walk 1" His half-closed eyes, 
 weak and watery with the morning light and 
 the morning air, looked about the room fur- 
 tively, and iie shifted his place in a restless- 
 manner from one chair to another as he mailo 
 those polite inquiries. 
 
 " My niece is better — she is dressing for the 
 walk,*' replied the captain, steadily observing 
 hi.i restless little friend while he spoke. " Mr. 
 Vanstone !" he added, on a sudden, " I am a 
 plain Englishman — excuse my blunt way of 
 speaking my mind. You don't meet me this 
 morning as cordially as you met me yesterday. 
 There is something unsettled in your face. I 
 distrust that housekeeper of yours, Sir ! Has 
 she been presuming on your forbearance. Has 
 she been trying to poison your mind against 
 me or my niece '?" 
 
 If Mr. Noel Vanstone had obeyed Mrs. 
 Leconnt's injunction, and had kept her little 
 morsel of note-pa])er folded in his pocket until 
 the time came to use it. Captain Wragge's de- 
 signedly blunt appeal might not have found 
 him unprepared with an answer. But curiosity 
 had got the better of him — he had opened the 
 note at night, and again in the morning — it 
 had seriously perplexed and start4ed him — and 
 it had left his mind far too disturbed to allow 
 him the ])OSsession of his ordinary resources. 
 He hesitated ; and his answer, when he suc- 
 ceeded in making it, began with a prevarica- 
 tion. 
 
 Captain Wragge stopped him before he had 
 got beyond his first sentence. 
 
 " Pardon me, Sir," said the captain, in his 
 loftiest manner. " If you have secrets to keep, 
 you have only to say so, and I have done. I 
 intrude on no man's secrets. At the same 
 time, Mr. Vanstone, you must allow me to re- 
 call to your memory that I met you yesterday 
 Wiithout any reserves on my side. I admlttedf 
 you to my frankest and fullest eojifidence,. 
 Sir — and, highly as I jirize the adyantages qf 
 your society, I can't consent to cultivate your 
 friendship on any other thai) equal terms.'' • 
 He threw open his respectable frock-coat, ancl 
 surveyed his visitor with a manly and virtuous 
 severiliy. 
 
 " I mean no offense !" cried Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone, piteou.sly. " Why do you interrupt me, 
 Mr. Bygrave V Why don't you let me explain ? 
 I mean no offense." 
 
 " No offense is taken, Sir," said the captain. 
 " You have a perfect right to the exercise of 
 
IH 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 your own discretion. I am not oflTended — I 
 only (;laim for myself the same privilege which 
 I accord to you.' He rose with jrreat dig- 
 nit)', and rang the bell. " Tell Miss Bygrave," 
 he said to the servant, " that our walk this 
 morning is put off until another opportunity, 
 and that I won't trouble her to come down 
 stairs." 
 
 This strong proceeding had the desired ef- 
 fect. Mr. Noel Vanstone vehemently pleaded 
 for a moment's private conversation before the 
 message was delivered. Captain Wragge's 
 severity partially relaxed. He sent the ser- 
 vant down stairs ; and, resuming his chair, 
 waited confidently for results. In calculating 
 the facilities for practicing on his visitor's 
 weakness he had one great superiority over 
 Mrs. Lecount. His judgment was not warped 
 by latent female jealousies, and he avoided the 
 error into which the housekeeper had fallen, 
 self-deluded — the error of underrating the im- 
 pression on Noel Vanstone that Magdalen had 
 produced. One of the forces in this world 
 which no middle - aged woman is capable of 
 estimating at its full value, when it acts against 
 her, is the force of beauty in a woman younger 
 than herself 
 
 " You are so hasty, Mr. Bygrave, you won't 
 
 five me time — you won't wait and hear what 
 have to say !" cried Mr. Noel Vanstone, 
 piteously, when the servant had closed the 
 parlor-(loor. 
 
 "My family failing. Sir — the blood of the 
 Bygraves. Accept my excuses. We are alone, 
 as you wished — pray proceed." 
 
 Placed between the alternatives of losing 
 Magdalen's society or betraying Mrs. Lecount 
 — unenlightened by any suspicion of the house- 
 keeper's ultimate object; cowed by the im- 
 movable scrutiny of Captain Wragge's inquir- 
 ing eye — Mr. Noel Vanstone was not long in 
 making his choice. He confusedly described 
 his singular interview of the previous evening 
 with Mrs. Lecount, and taking the folded 
 paper from his pocket placed it in the cap- 
 tain's hand. 
 
 A suspicion of the truth dawned on Cap- 
 tain Wragge's mind the moment he saw the 
 mysterious note. He withdrew to the window 
 before he opened it. The first lines tiiat at- 
 tracted his attention were these : " Oblige me, 
 Mr. Noel, by comparing the young lady who 
 is now in your company with the personal 
 description which follows these lines, and 
 which has been communicated to me by a 
 friend. You shall know the name of the per- 
 son described — which I have left a blank 
 — as soon as the evidence of your own eyes 
 has forced you to believe what you would re- 
 fuse to credit on the unsupported testimony 
 of Virginie Lecount." 
 
 This was enough for the captain. Before 
 he had read a word of the description itself 
 he knew what Mrs. Lecount had done, and 
 felt, with a profound sense of humiliation, that 
 his female enemy had taken him by surprise. 
 
 There was no time to think ; the whole 
 conspiracy was threatened with irrevocabi© 
 overthrow. The one resource in Captain 
 Wragge's present situation was to act instant- 
 ly on the first im[)ulse of his own audacity. 
 Line by line he read on, and still the ready 
 inventiveness which had never deserted him 
 yet failed to answer the call made on it now. 
 Ho came to the closing sentence — to the 
 last words which mentioned the two little 
 moles on Magdalen's neck. At that crown- 
 ing point of the description an 7dea crossed 
 his mind — his parti-colored cyeV twinkled; 
 his curly lips twisted up at the corners — 
 AVragge was himself again. 
 
 He wheeled round suddenly from the win- 
 dow, and looked Mr. Noel Vanstone straight 
 in the face with a grimly-quiet suggestiveness 
 of something serious to come. 
 
 " Pray, Sir, do you happen to know 'any- 
 thing of Mrs. Lecount's family ?" he inquired. 
 
 " A respectable family," said Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone — "that 's all I know. Why do 
 you ask ?" 
 
 " I am not usually a betting man," pursued 
 Captain Wragge. "But on this occasion I 
 will lay you any wager you like there is mad- 
 ness in your housekeeper's family." 
 
 "Madness!" repeated Mr. Noel Vanstone, 
 amazedly. 
 
 " Madness !" reiterated the captain, sternlj 
 tapping the note with his forefinger. " I sea 
 the cunning of insanity, the suspicion of in- 
 sanity, the feline trea:;hery of Insanity in 
 every line of this deplorable document. There 
 is a far more alarming reason. Sir, than I had 
 supposed for Mrs. Lecount's behavior to my 
 niece. It is. clear to me that Miss Bygrave 
 resembles some other lady who has seriously 
 offended your housekeeper — who has been 
 formerly connected, perhaps, with an out- 
 break of insanity in your Housekeeper — and 
 who is now evidently confused with my niece 
 in your housekeepers wandering mind. That 
 is my conviction, Mr. Vanstone. I may be 
 right, or I may be wrong. All I say Is this — 
 neither you nor any man can assign a sane 
 motive for the production of that incompre- 
 hensible document, and lor the use which you 
 are requested to make of it." 
 
 "I don't think Lecount 's mad," said Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone, with a very blank look, and 
 a very discomposed manner. " It couldn't 
 have escaped me — with my habits of obser- 
 vation — it couldn't possibly have escaped me 
 if Lecount had been mad." 
 
 " Very good, my dear Sir. In my opinion 
 she is the subject of an insane delusion. In 
 your opinion she Is in possession of her senses, 
 and has some mysterious motive which neither 
 you nor I can fathom. Either way, there 
 can be no harm In putting Mrs. Lecount's 
 description to the test, not only as a matter 
 of curiosity, but for our own private satisfac- 
 tion on both sides. It is of course Imposslblo 
 to tell my niece that she is to be made the 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 155 
 
 subject of such a proposterous experiment as 
 that note of yours suggests. But 30U can 
 use your own eyes, Mr. Vanslone ; you can 
 keep your own counsel; and — ma<l or not — 
 you can at least tell your housekeeper, on the 
 testimony of your own senses, that she is 
 wrong. L('t me look at the description again. 
 The greater part of it is not worth two straws 
 for anv ])nrpose of identihcation ; hundreds of 
 young ladies have tall figures, fair complex- 
 ions, light brown hair, and ligiit gray eyes. 
 You will say, on th(! other hand, hundreds of 
 young ladies have not got two little moles 
 close together on ilic left side of the neck. 
 Quite true. Tlie moles supply us with what 
 we scientific men call a Crucial Test. Wlien 
 my niece comes down stairs, Sir, you have 
 my full permission to take the liberty of look- 
 ing at her neck.' 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone expressed his high ap- 
 proval of the Crucial Test by smirking and 
 simpering for th'.^ first time that morning. 
 
 *' Of looking at her neck," repeated the 
 captain, returning the note to his visitor, and 
 then making for the door. " I will go up 
 stairs my.self, Mr. Vanstone," he continued, 
 "and inspect Miss Bygrave's walking-dre.<s. 
 If she has innocently placed any obstacles in 
 your way — if her hair is a little too low, or 
 her frill is a little too high — I will exert my 
 atitliority, on t!ie first harmless pretext I can 
 think of, to have those obstacles removed. 
 All I ask is that you will choose your oppor- 
 tunity discreetly, and that ^-ou will not allow 
 my niece to sui)pos;' that her ne( k is the 
 object of a gentleman's inspection." 
 
 The moment he was out of the parlor Cap- 
 tain Wragge ascended the .stairs at the top of 
 his spe»<l and knocked at Magdalen's door. 
 She opened it to him in her walking-dress — 
 obedient to the signal agree<l on between 
 them which summoned her down stairs. 
 
 " Wliat have you done with your p\ints 
 and powders?" asked the captain, without 
 wa-<ting a word in preliminary explanations. 
 "They were not in tlltj Imx of costumes which 
 I sold for you at Birmingham. AVhere are 
 they V" 
 
 " I have got them here," replied Mag<lalen. 
 " What can you possibly mean by wanting 
 them now '.'" 
 
 " Bring tliem instantly into my dressing- 
 room — th<', whole collection, brushes, pallet, 
 and everything. Don't wa.ste time in asking 
 questions; I 'II tell you what has happened as 
 we go on. Every moment is precious to us. 
 Follow me instantly !" 
 
 His face plainly showed that there was a 
 Berious reason for his strange proposal. Maj- 
 I dalen secured her collection of cosmetics, and 
 followed him into the dressing-room. He 
 ]o<'ked the door, placed her on a chair close 
 to the light, and then told her what had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 " We are on the brink of detoction," pro- 
 ceeded the captain, carefully mixing his colors 
 
 with liquid glue, and with a strong " drier" 
 added from a bottle in his own possession. 
 " There is only one chance for us (lift up your 
 hair from tlie left side of your neck) — I have 
 told ^Ir. Noel Vanstone to take a private op- 
 portunity ot" looking at you, and I 'm going t» 
 give the lie direct to that she-devil Lecount 
 by painting out your moles." 
 
 " They can't be painted out," said Magda- 
 len. " No color will stop on them." 
 
 •' ^f|/ color will," remarked Captain Wragge, 
 '* I have tried a variety of professions in my 
 time, the profession of painting among the 
 rest. Did you ever he.ar of such a thing as a 
 Black Kye ? I lived .some months once in the 
 neighborhood of Drury Lane entirely on B4ick 
 Eyes. i\Iy flesh-color stood on bruises of all 
 sorts, shades, and sizes — and it will stand, I 
 promise you, on your moles." 
 
 AVith this assurance the captain dipped hi9 
 brush into a little lump of opacpie color, which 
 lie had mixed in a saucer, and which ho had 
 graduated, as nearly as the materials would 
 permit, to the color of Magdalen's skin. After 
 first passing a cambric handkerchief, with soma 
 white powder on it, over the part of her neck 
 on which he designed to operate, he placed 
 two layers of color on the moles with the tip 
 of the brush. The process was performed in 
 a few moments, and the moles, as if by magic, 
 disappeared from view. Nothing but the 
 closest in.spection could have discovered the 
 artifice by which they had been concealed : at 
 the distance of two or three feet only it was 
 perfectly invisible. 
 
 " Wait here five minutes," said Captain 
 Wragge, "to let the paint dry, and then join 
 us in the parlor. Mrs. Lecount her.self would 
 be puzzled if she looked at you now." 
 
 '• Stop !" saiil ^Lagdalen. " There is one 
 thing you have not told me yet. How did 
 Mrs. Lecount get the description which you 
 read <lown stairs? Whatever else she ha« 
 seen of mc, she has not seen the mark on mj 
 neck ; it is too far back and too high up; mj 
 hair hiiles it.' 
 
 ' Who knows of the mark?" asked Captain 
 Wrairge. 
 
 She turned deadly pale, under the anguish 
 of a sudden recollectiim of Frank. 
 
 " .My sister knows it," she said, faintly. 
 
 " Mrs. Lecount miiy have written to your 
 sister," suggested the captain. 
 
 " Do vou think my sister would tell a stran- 
 ger what no stianger has a right to know? 
 Never I never !" 
 
 " Is there nobody else who could tell Mrs. 
 Lecount? The mark was mentioned in the 
 handbills at York. AVho put it there?" 
 
 " Not Norali ! Perhaps Mr. Pendril. Per- 
 haps iMiss (Jarth." 
 
 " Then Mrs. Lecount has written to Mr. 
 Petidril or Miss Garth — more likely to Miss 
 ( Jart h. The governess would be easier to deal 
 with than the lawyer." 
 
 " What can she have said to Miss Garth?" 
 
156 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Captain Wragfje consldpred a little. 
 
 " I can't say what Mrs. Lecount may have 
 written," he said ; " but I can tell you what I 
 should have written in Mrs. Lecount's place. 
 I should have frightened Miss Garth by false 
 reports about you, to begin with; and then I 
 should have asked for personal particulars, to 
 help a benevolent stranger in restoring you to 
 yovir friends." 
 
 The angry glitter flashed up instantly in 
 Magdalen's eyes. 
 
 " What you would have done is what Mrs. 
 Xiccount has done," she said, indignantly. 
 •"Neither lawyer nor governess shall dispute 
 ■my right to my own will and my own way. If 
 Mis% Garth thinks she can control my actions 
 by corresponding with Mrs. Lecount, I will 
 show Miss Garth she is mistaken ! It is high 
 time, Captain AVragge, to have done with these 
 wretched risks of discovery. We will take 
 the short way to the end we have in view 
 sooner than Mrs. Lecount or Miss Garth think 
 for. How long can you give me to wring an 
 offer of marriage out of tliat creature down 
 stairs V" 
 
 " I dare not give you long," replied Captain 
 Wragge. " Now your friends know where 
 you are, they may come down on us at a 
 day's notice. Could you manage it in a 
 week ?" 
 
 " I '11 manage it in half the time,"' she said, 
 with a hard, defiant laugh. " Leave us to- 
 gether this morning as you left us at Dun- 
 wich — and take Mrs. Wragge with you as an 
 excuse for parting company. Is the paint dry 
 yet? Go down stairs and tel! him I am com- 
 ing directly." 
 
 So for the second time Miss Garth's well- 
 meant efforts defeated their own end. So the 
 fatal force of circumstance turned the hand 
 that would fain have held Magdalen back into 
 the hand that drove her on. 
 
 The captain returned to his visitor in the 
 parlor, after first stopping on the way to issue 
 his orders for the walking -excursion to Mrs. 
 Wragge. 
 
 "I am shocked to have kept you waiting," 
 he said, sitting down again confidentially by 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's side. " My only excuse 
 is, that my niece had accidentally dressed her 
 ^air so as to defeat our object. I have been 
 'parsuading her to alter it — and young lacFies 
 are apt to be a little obstinate on questions 
 relatiag to their toilet. Give her a chair on 
 • that side of you when she comes in, and take 
 ,your look at h.^r neck comfortably before we 
 , start for ouy walk." 
 
 Magdalen entered the room as he said those 
 words— and, after the first greetings were ex- 
 changed, took tke chair presented to her with 
 the most unsuspicious readiness. Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone applied ithe Crucial Test on the 
 spot, with the highest appreciation of the fair 
 material which was the subject of experiment. 
 Not the vestige of a mole was visible on any 
 part pf the . smooth white surface of Miss 
 
 Bygrave's nock. It mutely answered the 
 blinking inquiry of Mr. Noel Vanstone's half- 
 closed eyes by the flattest practi 'al contradic- 
 tion of Mrs. Lecount. That one central inci- 
 dent in the events of the morning was, of all 
 the incidents that had hitherto occurred, the 
 most important in its results. Tkat one dif- 
 covery shook the housekeeper's hold on her 
 master as nothing had shaken it yet. 
 
 In a few minutes Mrs. Wragge made her 
 appearance, and excited as much surprise in 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's mind as he was capable 
 of feeling while absorbed in the enjoyment of 
 Magdalen's society. The Wrilking-party left 
 the house at once, directing their steps north- 
 ward, so as not to pass the windows of Sea- 
 View Cottage. To Mrs. Wragge'.? unutter- 
 able astonishment, her husband, lor the first 
 time in the course of their married life, po- 
 litely offered her his arm and led her on 
 ill advance of the young peojile, as if the 
 privilege of walking alone witji her presented 
 some special attraction to him ! " Step out !" 
 whispered the captain, fiercely. "Leave your 
 niece and Mr. Vanstone alone ! If I catch 
 you looking back at them I '11 put the Ori- 
 ental Cashmere Robe on the top of the 
 kitchen fire ! Turn your toes out and keep 
 step — confound you, keep step !" Mrs. 
 Wragge kept step to the best of her limited 
 ability. Her sturdy knees trembled under 
 her. She firmly believed the captain was in- 
 toxicated. 
 
 The walk lasted for rather more than an 
 hour. Before nine o'clock they were all back 
 again at North Shingles. The ladies went at 
 once into the house. Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 remained with Captain Wragge in the gar- 
 den. 
 
 " Well," said the captain, "what do you 
 think now of I\Irs. Lecount V" 
 
 " Damn Lecount !" replied Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone, in great agitation. " I 'm half inclined 
 to agree with you. I 'm half inclined to think 
 my infernal housekeeper is mad." 
 
 He spoke fretfully and unwillingly, as if the 
 merest allusion to Mrs. Lecount was distaste- 
 ful to him. His color came and went ; his 
 manner was absent and undecided ; he fidg- 
 eted restlessly about the garden -walk. It 
 would have been plain to a far less acute 
 observation than Captain Wragge's that Mag- 
 dalen had met his advances by an unexpected 
 grace and readiness of encouragement which 
 had entirely overthrown his self-control. 
 
 " I never enjoyed a walk so much in my 
 life !" he exclaimed, with a sudden outburst 
 of enthusiasm. "I hope Miss Bygrave feels 
 all the better for it. Do you go out at the 
 same time to-morrow morning? May I join 
 you again ?" 
 
 " By all means, Mr. Vanstone," said the 
 captain, cordially. " Excuse me for returning 
 to the subject; but what do you propose say- 
 ing to Mrs. Lecount ?" 
 
 " I don't know. Lecount is a perfect nui- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 157 
 
 sance ! What would you do, Mr. Bygrave, if 
 you were in my place V" 
 
 " Allow me to a^k a question, my dear Sir, 
 before I tell you. What is your breakfast 
 hour '?" 
 
 " Half-past nine." 
 
 " Is Mrs. Lecount an early riser ?" 
 
 "No. Lecnunt is lazy in the mornin<r. I 
 hate lazy women ! If you were in my place, ' 
 what should you say to her ?" 
 
 '' I should say nothintr," re})Iieil Captain 
 Wracffje. " I should return at once by the 
 back way ; I should let Mrs. Lecount see me 
 in the front tr-'^i'den, a^ if I was taking a turn 
 beibre breakfast ; and I should leave her to 
 supposo that I was only just out of my room. 
 If she asks you whether you mean lo come 
 here to-day, say no. Secure a quiet life, 
 until circiunstances force you to give her an 
 answer. Then tell the plain truth — say that 
 Mr. B)'grave's niece and Mrs. Lecount's de- 
 scription are at variance with each other in 
 the most important particular, and b(^g that 
 the subject may not be mentioned again. 
 There is my advice. What do vou think 
 of it ?" 
 
 If Mr. Noel Vanstone could have looked into 
 his counsellor's mind he might have thought 
 the captain's advice excellently adapted to 
 serve the captain's interests. As long as Mrs. 
 Lecount could be kept in ignorance of her 
 master's visits to North Siiingles, so long she 
 would wait until the opportunity came for 
 trying the experiment ; and so long she might 
 be trusted not to endanger the conspirai.-y by 
 any further proceedings. Ni-ces^arily inca- 
 jiable of viewing Captain Wragge's advice 
 uniler this aspect, Mr. Noel A^anstone simply 
 looked at it as offering him a temporary 
 niCMUs of escape from an explanation with 
 his housekeeper. He eagerly declared that 
 the course of action suggested to him should 
 be followed to the letter, and returned to Sea- 
 View without further delay. 
 
 On this occasion Captain Wragge's antici- 
 pations were in no respect falsified by Mrs. 
 Lecount's conduct. She had no suspicion of 
 her master's visit to North Shingles — she had 
 made uji her mind, if necessary, to wait pa- 
 tiently for his interview with INIiss Bygrave 
 until tlie end of the week, and she did not 
 embarrass him by any unexpected ipiestions 
 •when he announced his inti-ntion of holding 
 no personal communication with t!u' Bygraves 
 on that day. All she said was, " Don't you 
 feel well cnongli, I\Ir. Noel ? or don't you feel 
 inclined y lie answered, shortly, "1 don't 
 feel well enough ;" and there the conversation 
 ended. 
 
 The next day the proceedings of the pre- 
 vious morning were exactly repeated. This 
 time Mr. Noel Vanstone went home raptur- 
 ously with a keepsake in his breast-pocket — 
 he had taken tender possession of one of ]\liss 
 Bygrave's glove.s. At intervals during the 
 day, whenever he w£is alone, he took out the 
 
 glove, and kissed it with a devotion which 
 was almost passionate in its fervor. The 
 miserable little creature luxuriated in his mo- 
 ments of stolen ha})piness, with a speechless 
 and stealthy delight which was a new sensa- 
 tion to him. The few young girls whom he 
 had met with in his fatlier's narrow circle at 
 Zurich had felt a mischievous pleasure in 
 treating him like a quaint little plaything; 
 the strongest impression he could make on 
 their hearts was an impression in which their 
 lap-dogs might have rivalled him; the deepest 
 interest he could create in them was the in- 
 terest they might have felt in a new ti-inketor 
 a new dress. The only women who had hith- 
 erto invited his admiration, and taken his 
 compliments seriously, had been women whose 
 charms were on the wane, and whose chanccB 
 of marriage were fast failing them. For the 
 first time in his life he had now passed hours 
 of happiness in the society of a beautiful girl, 
 who had letl him to think of her afterward 
 without a single humiliating remembrance to 
 lower him in his own esteem. 
 
 Anxiously as lie tried to hide it, the change 
 produced in his look and manner by the new 
 feeling awakened in him was not a change 
 which could be concealed from !Mi-s. Lecount. 
 On the second day she pointedly asked him 
 whether he had not made an arrangement to 
 call on the Bygraves. He denied it, as before. 
 " Pi»rliaps _\ou are going to-morrow, Mr. 
 Noel V" persisted the housekeeper. He was 
 at the end of his resources; he was impatient 
 to be rid of her inqinries ; he trusted to his 
 friend at North Shingles to help him; and 
 this time he answered, Yes. " If you see the 
 young lady," proceeded Mrs. Lecount, "don't 
 tbrget that note of mine. Sir, which you have 
 in your waistcoat- pocket." No more was 
 said on either side; but by that night's post 
 the housekeeper wrote to Miss Garth. The 
 letter merely acknowledged, with thanks, the 
 receipt of Miss Garth's communication, and 
 informed her that in a few days Mrs. Lecount 
 hoped to be in a position to write again, and 
 summon Mr. Pendi'il to Aldborough. 
 
 Late in the evening, when the parlor at 
 North Shingles began to get dark, and when 
 the captain rang the bell tor candles as usual, 
 he was surprised by hearing Magdalen's voice 
 in the passage, telling the servant to take the 
 lights down stairs again. She knocked at the 
 door innnediately afterward, and glided into 
 the obscurity of the room like a ghost. 
 
 " 1 have a cpiestion to ask you about your 
 plans for to-morrow," she said. " My eyes are 
 very weak this evening, and I hope you will 
 not object to dispense with the candles for a 
 few minutes." 
 
 She spoke in low, stifled tones, and felt her 
 way noigelessly to a chair far removed from 
 the captain, in the daikest part of the room. 
 Sitting near the window, he could just discern 
 the dim outline of her dress, he could just hear 
 the faint accents of her voice. For the last 
 
158 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 two days lie had seen nothing of her, expect 
 durinn; their morninj; walk. On that after- 
 noon he had found his wife crying in the little 
 back room down stairs. She could, only tell 
 him that Magdalen had frightened her— that 
 Magdalen was going the way again which she 
 had gone when the letter camefrom China, in 
 the terrible past time at Vauxhall Walk. 
 
 " I was sorry to hear that you were ill, to- 
 day, from Mrs. AVragge," said the captain, 
 unconsciously dropping his voice almost to a 
 whisper as he spoke. 
 
 " It doesn't matter," she answered, quietly, 
 out of the darkness. " I am strong enough to 
 suffer and live. Other girls in my place 
 would have been happier — they would have 
 suffered and died. J t doesn't matter; it will 
 be all the same a hundred years hence. Is 
 he coming again to-morrow morning at seven 
 o'clock V" 
 
 " He is coming, if you feel no objections to 
 it ?" 
 
 " I have no objection to make ; I have done 
 with objecting. But I should like to have the 
 time altered. I don't look my best "in the 
 early morning— I have bad nights, and I rise 
 haggard and worn. Write him a note this 
 evening, and tell him to come at twelve 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Twelve is rather late, under the circum- 
 stances, lor you to be seen out walking." 
 
 " I have no intention of walking. Let him 
 be siiown into the parlor — " 
 
 Her voice <IIed away in silence before she 
 ended the sentence. 
 
 " Yes V" said Captain Wragge. 
 
 " And leave me alone in the parlor to re- 
 ceive him." 
 
 "Ay! ay!" said the captain. -'I under- 
 stand. I '11 be out of the way, in the dining- 
 room, while he is here ; and you can come 
 and tell me about it Avhen he has gone." 
 
 There was another moment of silence. 
 
 " Is there no way but telling you V" she 
 asked, suddenly. "I can control myself 
 while he is with me, but I can't answer ior 
 Avhat I may say or do afterward. Is there no 
 other way V" 
 
 " Plenty of ways," said the captain. " Here 
 is the first that occurs to me. Leave the blind 
 down over the window of your room up stairs 
 before he comes. I will go out on the beach 
 and wait there within sight of the house. 
 When I see him come out again I will look at 
 the window. If he has said nothing, leave 
 the blind down. If he has made you an offer, 
 draw the blind up. The signal is simplicity 
 itself; we can't misunderstand each other. 
 Look your best to-morrow ! Make sure of 
 him, my dear girl — make sure of him, if you 
 possibly can."' 
 
 He had spoken loud enough to feel certain 
 that she had heard him, but no answering 
 word came from her. The dead silence was 
 only disturbed by the rustling of her dress, 
 which told him she had risen from her chair. 
 
 Her shadowy presence crossed the room again; 
 the door shut softly — she was gone. He rang 
 the bell hurriedly for the lights. The servant 
 found him standing close at the window, look- 
 ing less self-possessed than usual. He told 
 her he felt a little poorly, and sent her to tho 
 cupboard for the brandy. 
 
 At a few minutes before twelve the next 
 day Captain Wragge withdrew to his post of 
 observation, concealing himself behind a fish- 
 ing-boat drawn up on the beach. Pupctually 
 as the hour struck he saw Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 approach North Sliingles and open the gar- 
 den-gate. When the house-door had closed 
 on the visitor Captain Wragge settled himself 
 comfortably against the side of the boat and 
 lit his cigar. 
 
 He smoked for half an hour — for ten min- 
 utes over the half-hour — by his watch. Ho 
 finished the cigar down to the last morsel of 
 it that he could hold in his lips. Just as he 
 had thrown away the end the door opened 
 again, and Noel Vanstone came out. 
 
 The captain looked up instantly at Magda- 
 len's window. In the absorbing excitement 
 of the moment he counted the seconds. She 
 might get from the parlor to her own room in 
 less than a minute. He counted to thirty — 
 and nothing happened. He counted to filty — 
 and nothing happened. He gave up count- 
 ing, and left the boat impatiently to return to 
 the house. 
 
 As he took his first step forward he saw the 
 signal. 
 
 The blind was drawn up ! 
 
 Cautiously ascending the eminence of the 
 beach, Captain A\'^ragge looked toward Sea- 
 View Cottage before he showed himself on 
 the Parade. Mr. Noel Vanstone had reached 
 home again : he was just entering his owu 
 door. 
 
 '• If all your money was offered me to stand 
 in your shoes" — said the captain looking 
 after him — "rich as you are, I wouldn't take 
 it!' 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 On returning to the house Captain Wragge 
 received a significant message from the ser- 
 vant. " Mr. Noel Vanstone would call again 
 at two o'clock that afternoon, when he hoped 
 to have the pleasure of finding Mr. Bygrave 
 at home." 
 
 The captain's first inquiry, after bearing 
 this message, referred to Magdalen. "Where 
 was Miss Bygrave ?" " In her own room." 
 "Where was Mrs. Bygrave ?" " In the back f 
 parlor." Captain Wragge turned his steps 
 at once in the latter direction, and found Ims 
 wife for the second time in tears. She had 
 been sent out of Magdalen's room for the whole 
 day, and she was at her wit's end to know 
 what she had done to deserve it. Shortening 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 15> 
 
 her lamentations witliont ceremony, her hus- 
 band sent her up stairs on the spot, with in 
 struction.s to knock at the door, and to inquire 
 whether JNIagdak^h could jjive five minutes 
 attention to a question of importance, which 
 must be settled before two o'clock. 
 
 The answer returned was in the negative. 
 Magdalen requested that tlie subject on which 
 she was asked to decide might be mentioned 
 to her in writing. She engaged to reply in 
 the same way — on the understanding that 
 Mrs. Wragge, and not the servant, should be 
 <^mj)loyed to deliver the note, and to take 
 back tiie answer. 
 
 Captain Wragge forthwith opened his pa- 
 per-case and wrote these lines : "Accept my 
 warmest congratulations on the result of your 
 interview with Mr. N. V. lie is coming again 
 at two o'clock, no doubt to make his propo- 
 sals in due form. The (juestion to decide is, 
 whether I shall pres.s him or not on tlie sub- 
 ject of settlements. The considerations for 
 your own mind are two in number. First, 
 whether the said pressure (without at all un- 
 derrating your influence over him) may not 
 squeeze for a long time before it squeezes 
 money out of Mr. N. V. Secondly, whether 
 we are altogether ju,»;tified — considei'ing our 
 present position towaid a certain sharp prac- 
 titioner in petticoats — in running the risk of 
 delay. ConsidiM- these joints, and let me 
 have your decision as soon as convenient." 
 
 The answer returned to this note was writ- 
 ten in crooked, blotted characters, strangely 
 unlike Magdalen's usually firm and clear hand- 
 writing. It only contained these words: 
 "Give yourself no trouble about settlements. 
 Leave the use to which he is to put his money 
 for the future in my hands." 
 
 '' ])id you see her V" asked the captain, 
 when his wife had delivered the answer. 
 
 " I tried,"' said Mr.s. Wragge, with a fresh 
 burst of tears — "but she "only opened the 
 door far enough to put out her hand. I took 
 and gave it a little squeeze — and, oh, poor 
 «ouI, it felt .'io cold in mine !" 
 
 When Mrs. Lecount's master made his ap- 
 pearance at two o'clock he stood alarmingly 
 in need of an anodyne application from ]\Irs. 
 Lecount's green fun. The agitation of mak- 
 ing his avowal to Magdalen; the terror of 
 finding himself discovered by the housekeep- 
 er ; the tormenting suspicion of the hard pe- 
 cuniary conditions which Magdalen's relative 
 and guardian might impose on him — all these 
 emotions, stirring in conflict together, had over- 
 powered his feebly-working heart with a trial 
 that strained It sonly. He gasped for breath 
 as he sat down in the parlor at North Shingles, 
 and that ominous bluish pallor which always 
 overspread his face in moments of agitation 
 now made its warning appearance again. 
 Captain Wragge seized the brandy-bottle in 
 genuine alarm, and forced his visitor to driidc 
 a winegla-ssful of the .spirit before a word was 
 said between them on either side. 
 
 Restored by the stimulant, and encouraged 
 by the readiness with which the captain anVic- 
 ipated everything that he had to say, Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone contrived to state the serious 
 object of his visit in tolerably plain terms. 
 All the conventional preliminaries proper to 
 tiie occasion were easily disposed ol. Thb 
 suitor's family was respectable; his position 
 in life was undeniably satisfactory ; his attach- 
 ment, though hasty, was evidently disinter- 
 ested and sincere. All that Captain Wrajr<'o 
 had to do was to refer to these various txm- 
 sidcratious with a haj)py choice of lanmia'^e, 
 in a voice that trembled witii manly emotion — 
 and this he did to perlection. For the first 
 halt-hour of the interview no allusion what- 
 ever was made to the delicate and danger- 
 ous part of the subject. The captain wailed 
 until he had composed his visitor, and when 
 that result was achieved came smoothly to 
 the point in these terms: 
 
 " There is one little difficulty, Mr. Van- 
 stone, which I think we have both overlooked. 
 Your housekeeper's recent conduct inclines 
 nie to fear that she will view the approach- 
 ing change in your life with anything but a 
 friendly eye. Probably you have not thought 
 it necessary yet to inform her of the new lie 
 which you propose to form V" 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone turned pale at the bare 
 idea of explaining himself to Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 " I cant tell what I 'm to do," he said, 
 glancing aside nervously at the window, as if 
 he e.\i)ected to see the housekeeper peeping 
 in. " I hate all awkward positions; and this 
 Is the most unplea.sant position I ever was 
 placed in. You don't know what a terrible 
 woman Lecount is. I 'm not afraid of her ; 
 pray don't suppose I 'm afraid of her — " 
 
 At those words his fears rose in his throat, 
 and gave him the lie direct by sto])ping his 
 utterance. 
 
 " Fray don't trouble yourself to explain," 
 said Captain Wragge, coming to the rescue. 
 " 'J'his is the common story, Mr. Vanstone. 
 II(;re is a woman who has giown old in your 
 service, and in your father's service before 
 you ; a woman who has contrived, in all sorts 
 of small underhand ways, to presume system- 
 atically on her position for yt'ars and years 
 past; a woman, in short, whom your incon- 
 siderate but perfectly natural kindness has 
 allowed to claim a right of property in you — " 
 
 " Property !" cried Mr. Noel Vanstone, mis- 
 taking the captain, and letting the truth es- 
 cape him through sheer inability to conceal 
 his fears any longer. "I don't know what 
 amount of properly she won't claim. She '11 
 make me pay for my father as well as for 
 myself Thousands, Mr. Bygrave — thousands 
 of pounds sterling out of my pocket ! ! !" He 
 clasped his hands in despair at the picture of 
 pecuniary compulsion which his fancy had 
 conjured up, his own golden life-blood spout- 
 ing from him in great jets of prodigality 
 under the lancet of Mrs. Lecount ! 
 
160 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 " Gontl}', Mr. Vanstone — gently ! The 
 woman knows nothing so far, and the money 
 is not gone yet." 
 
 " No, no — the money is not gone, as you 
 say. I 'm only nervous about it ; I can't help 
 being nervous. You were saying something 
 just now; you were going to give me advice. 
 I value your advice — you don't know how 
 highly I value your advice." He said those 
 words with a conciliatory smile, Avhich was 
 more than helpless: it was absolutely servile 
 in its dependence on his judiciou.-f friend. 
 
 " I was only assuring you, my dear Sir, 
 that I understood your position," said the 
 captain. " I see your diiliculty as plainly as 
 you can see it yourself. Tell a woman like 
 Mrs. Lecount that she must come oft" her 
 domestic throne to make way for a young 
 and beautiful successor, armed with the au- 
 thority of a wife, and an unpleasant scene 
 must be the inevitable result. An unpleasant 
 scene, Mr. Vanstone, if your opinion of your 
 housekeeper's sanity is well founded. Some- 
 thing far more si^rious, if my opinion that her 
 intellect is unsettled happens to turn out tlu' 
 right one." 
 
 "I don't say it.isu't my opinion Ion," re- 
 joined Mr. Noel Vanstone ; " especially aftur 
 •what has happened to-day." 
 
 Captain Wragge immediately bogged to 
 know wiiat the event alluded to might be. 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone thereupon explained — 
 with an infinite number of parentheses all 
 referring to liimself — that Mrs. Lecount had 
 put the dreaded question relating to the little 
 note in her master's pocket barely an liour 
 since. He had answered her inquiry as Mr. 
 Bygrave liad advised him. On hearing that 
 the accuracy of the personal description had 
 been fairly put to the test, and had failed in 
 the one important particular of the moles on 
 the neck, Mrs. Lecount had considered a lit- 
 tle, and had then asked him whether he had 
 shown her note to Mr. Bygrave before the 
 experiment was fa-ied ? He had answered in 
 the negative, as the only safe form of reply 
 that he could think of on the spur of the 
 moment ; and the housekeeper had thereupon 
 addressed liim in these strange and startling 
 words : " You are keeping the truth from me, 
 Mr. Noel. You are trusting strangers, and 
 doubting your old servant and your old friend. 
 Every time you go to JVIr. Bygrave's house, 
 every time you see Miss Bygrave, you are 
 drawing nearer and nearer to your destruc- 
 tion. They have got the bandage over your 
 eyes in spite of me; but I tell them, and tell 
 you, before many days are over I will take it 
 ofiTl' To this extraordinar}- outbreak — ac- 
 companied as it was by an expression in Mrs. 
 Lecount's face which he had never seen there 
 before — Mr. Noel Vanstone made no reply. 
 Mr. Bygrave's conviction that there was a 
 lurking taint of insanity in the housekeeper's 
 blood had recurred to his memory, and he 
 had left the room at the first opportunity. 
 
 Captain Wragge listened with the closest 
 attention to the narrative thus presented to 
 him. But one conclusion could be drawn 
 from it — it was a plain warning to him to 
 hasten the end. 
 
 " I am not surprised," he said, gravely, " to 
 hear that you are inclining more favorably to 
 my opinion. After what you have just told 
 me, Mr. Vanstone, no scnsihle man could do 
 otherwise. This is becoming serious. I hardly 
 know what results may not be expected to 
 follow the conununication of your ap])roach- 
 ing change of life to Mrs. Lecount. My niece 
 may be involved in tiiose results. She is 
 nervous ; she is sensitive in the highest de- 
 gree ; she is the innocent object of this wo- 
 man's unreasoning hatred and distrust. You 
 alarm me, Sir ! I am not easily thrown off 
 my balance ; but I acknowledge you alarm me 
 for the future." He frowned, shook his head, 
 and looki'd at his visitor despondently. 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone began to feel uneasy. 
 The change in Mr. Bygrave's manner seemed 
 ominous of a reconsideration of his proposals 
 from a new and an unfavorable point of view. 
 He took counsel of his inborn cowardlf^e and 
 his inborn cunning, and ])roj)oscd a solution of 
 the difficulty disci;vered by himself. 
 
 "Why should we tell Ivccount at all V he 
 a.^ked. "What right has Lecount to know? 
 Can't we be married without letting hei" into 
 the secret? And can't somebody tell her 
 afterward, when we are both out of her 
 reach ?" 
 
 Captain Wragge received this ])ro})Osal with 
 an expression of surprise wliich did infinite 
 credit to his power o(" control over his own 
 countenance. His foremost objecit throughout 
 the interview had been to conduct it to this 
 point — or, in other words, to make the first 
 idea of keeping the marriage a secret from 
 Mrs. Lecount emanate from Noel Vanstone 
 instead of from himself. No one knew better 
 than the captain that the only responsibilities 
 which a weak man ever accepts are respon- 
 sibilities which can be perpetually pointed out 
 to him as resting exclusively on his own 
 shoulders. 
 
 " I am accustomed to set my face against 
 clandestine proceedings of all kinds," said 
 Captain Wragge. " But there are exceptions 
 to the strictest rules : and I am bound to 
 admit, Mr, Vanstone, that your position in 
 this matter is an exceptional position, if ever 
 there was one yet. The course you have just 
 proposed — however unbecoming I may think 
 it ; however distasteful it may be to myself — 
 would not only spare you a very serious em- 
 barrassment (to say the least of it), but would 
 also protect you from the personal assertion 
 of those pecuniary claims on the part of your 
 housekeeper to which you have already ad- 
 verted. These are both desirable results to 
 achieve — to say nothing of the removal, on 
 my side, of all apprehension of annoyance to 
 my niece. On the other hand, however, a 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 161 
 
 marriage solemnized with such privacy as j 
 you propose must be a basty murriafre — for, ] 
 as we are situated, tlie longer tlie delay, the i 
 greater will be the risk tliat our secret may i 
 eseape our keeping. I am not against hasty 
 marriage^ where a mutual flame is. fanned l)"v 
 .'in adequate income. My own was a love- 
 match, contracted in a hurry. Tiiere are 
 plenty oliustarjces in the experience of every 
 one of short courtsliips and speedy inarria-res 
 which have turned up trumps — I beg vour 
 pardon — which have turned out well after all. 
 But if you and my niece, Mr. Vanstone, are 
 to add one to ihe nnmijcr of these cases, the 
 usual pr(;liminaries of marriage among the 
 highc)- classes must be hastened by "some 
 means. You doubtless understand nie'as now 
 referring to the subject of settlements ?" 
 
 "I'll take another teaspoonful of brandv," 
 said Mr. Xoel Vanstone, hohling out his glass 
 with a trembling hand as the word " settle- 
 ments" passed Captiin W'ragge's lips. 
 
 "I 'li take a tcaspoantul with vou," said 
 the captain, nimbly dismounting 'from the 
 pedestal of his Jc-^pcetabiiitv, and'%ipping his, 
 brandy with the highest relish. j\lr. Noel 
 Vanstone. after nervously following his host's 
 example, composed himself to meet the com- 
 ing onlea! — with reclining head aiid grasping 
 hands-—iu the position familiarly associated to 
 all civilized humanity, with a seat in a den- 
 tist's chair. 
 
 The captain put down his emptv glass and 
 got up again on ids |)edestal. 
 
 " We were talking of settlements," he re- i 
 sumed. '-I have already mentioned, Mr.! 
 Vanstone, at an earlier period of our conver- 
 sation, that my niece presents the man of her j 
 choice with no other dowry than the most : 
 inestinuible of all gifts — the irift of herself i 
 ihis on-cumslance, however (as vou are no 
 Idoiiht aware), does not disentitle iue to make I 
 jthe customary stipulations with her future 
 [husoand. Ae.-ording to tlie usual course in ■ 
 [this matter, my lawyer would see, vours— con- 
 isidtations would take place — (Udavs would! 
 loccur— strangers would he in posse.ssion of 
 lyour intentions — and Mrs. Lecount would, I 
 sooner or h.ter, arrive at that knowled-e of 
 the truth which you are anxious to keep' from ! 
 Ji'M-. Do you agree with me so far?" i 
 
 Unutterable appridicnsion clo.sed Mr Noel 
 Vanstone's lips. Jle could only reply bv an I 
 inclination of the head. > ^ . 
 
 [ " Very good." .said the captain. " Now, Sir, 
 rou ma}- possibly have observed that I am a 
 JTian ol a very original turn of mind. If J ],,ive 
 lot hitherto struck you in that light, it may 
 h«'n be nece.ssary to mention that there are 
 ome subjects on which I persist in tiiinkin'r 
 or myselt. The subject of marriage settled 
 lents IS one of them. What, let me a>k vou 
 oes a parent or guardian in my present po^il 
 ion usually do? After having trusted the 
 uvn whom he has chosen for his son-in-law 
 itL the sacred deposit of a woman's ha])])!- 
 
 21 
 
 ness, he turns round on that man. and declines 
 to trust him with the infinitelv inferior respon- 
 sdnlity of providing for her j*e:uniarv future. 
 Ue fetters his .son-in-!aw with the most bindin'r 
 document tlie law can produce, and emplovl 
 with the husband of his own child the same 
 precautions which he would use if he were 
 dealing with a stranger and a ro.Tue. I call 
 I such eondu<-t as this inconsistent and unbecom- 
 j ing III the last degree. You will not find it 
 j my course of conduit, Mr. Vanstone; vou will 
 not find me preaching what I don't practice 
 I If I trust you with my niece. I trust vou with 
 • every inferior responsibility toward "her and 
 J toward me. Give me your hand, Sir; tell me 
 ' on your word of honor that you will provide 
 , for your wife as becomes her position and your 
 ! means, and the cpiestion of settlements is de- 
 j cided between us from this moment, at once 
 and for ever !" Having carried out .MaT<lalen's 
 ' instructions in this lofty tone, he threw open 
 i Ins respectable fio.'k-coat, and sat, with head 
 { erect and hand extended, the model of parent- 
 , <il leehiig, and the picture of human inte<rriiy 
 j For one moment Mr. Noel Vanstone re- 
 I maincd literally petrified bv astonishment. 
 I Ihe next, hestarted fiom his chair, and wrun'^ 
 j the hand of his magnanimous, friend in a 
 j perfect transport of admiration. Never yet 
 I throujiiiout his long and varied career, had' 
 Captain Wragge felt such dUficulty in keepin.r 
 his countenance as he felt now. Contempt for 
 ' the outburst of miserly jrratituile of which he 
 I was the object; triumph in the sense of suc- 
 t cessful conspiracy ag,iinst a man who had rated 
 the ofTer of his protection at five pounds; re- 
 gret at the lost opportunity of eirecting a'fine 
 stroke ol' moral agriculture, which his (fread of 
 involving himself in coming consccpiences had 
 forced him to let slip — all these varied emo- 
 tions agitated the captain's mind; all strove 
 togetiier to find their way to the surface 
 through the outlets of his face or his tonf^uc. 
 PL.' allowed Mr. Noel Vanstone to keep jw^scs- 
 sion of his hand, and to heap one scries of shrill 
 protestations and j>;-omises on another, until he 
 had regained his usu,'d mastery over himself. 
 That result achieved, he put the little man 
 back in his chair, and returned forthwith to 
 the subject of Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 'I Suppose we now revert to the difTiculty 
 which we have not conquered yet," said the 
 captiin. " Let us say that I do violence to my 
 own iiabits and feelings ; that I allow the con- 
 siderations I have already mentioned to weif'h 
 with me; and that I sanction your wish to be 
 united to my niece without the knowledrre of 
 Mrs. Lecount. Allow me to iiupjire, in'^tliat 
 ease, what means you can suggest for the ac- 
 plishinent of your end V" 
 
 •' I can't suggest anything," leplied Mr. Noel 
 Vanston.', helplessly. " AVould you <*jeet to 
 suggest for nic '?" 
 
 '• You are making a bolder request than you 
 think, Mr. Vanstone. I never do things by 
 halves. U'heu I am acting' with uiv cultoiii- 
 
162 
 
 :S0 NAME. 
 
 ary candor, I am frank (as you know already) 
 to tha utmost verge of imprudence. When 
 exceptional circumstances compel me to take 
 an opposite course, there isn't a slyer fox alive 
 than I am. If, at your express request, I take 
 off my honest English coat here, and put on a 
 Jesuit's gown- — if, purely out of sympathy for 
 your awkward position, I consent to keep your 
 .secret for you' from Mrs. Lecount — I must 
 have no unseasonable scruples to contend witli 
 on your part. If it is neck or nothing on my 
 side, Sir, it must be neck or nothing on yours 
 also !" 
 
 "' Neck or nothing by all means." said Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone, briskly, '-on the understand- 
 ing that }ou go first. I have no scruples about 
 keeping Lecount in the dark. But slie is 
 devilish cunning, Mr. Bygrave. IIow is it to 
 be done V ' 
 
 " You shall hear directly," replied the cap- 
 tain. " Belbre I develop my views I should 
 like to hear your opinion on an abstract (jues- 
 tiou of morality. What do you think, my dear 
 Sir, of pious frauds in general V" 
 
 iNIr. ^oel Vanstone looked a little embar- 
 rassed by the question. 
 
 " Shall I put it more plainly V" continued 
 Captain Wragge. " AVhat do you say t» the 
 universally-accepted maxim, that 'all strata- 
 gems are fair in love and war?' — Yes or 
 No?" 
 
 " Yes !" answered Mr. Noel Vanstone, with 
 the utmost readiness. 
 
 " One more question and I have done," said 
 the captain. " Do you see any particular ob- 
 jection to practiciiig a pious fi-aud on Mrs. 
 Lecount ?" 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's resolution began to 
 falter a little. 
 
 '• Is Lecount likely to find it out ?" he asked, 
 cautiously. 
 
 " She can't possibly discover it until after 
 you are married and out of her reach." 
 
 " You are sure of that ?" 
 
 '■ Quite sure." 
 
 " Play any trick you like on Lecount," said 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone, with an air of unutterable 
 relief. " I have had my suspicions lately that 
 she is trying to domineer over me ; I am be- 
 ginning to feel that I Jiave borne with Lecount 
 long enough. I wish 1 was well rid of her." 
 
 " You shall have your wish," said Captain 
 Wragge. " You shall be rid of her in a week 
 or ten days." 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone rose eagerly and ap- 
 proached the captain's chair. 
 
 " You dou*t say so !" he exclaimed. " How 
 do you mean ti send her away ?" 
 
 " I mean to send her on a journey," replied 
 Captain Wragire. 
 
 " Where '?" '^ 
 
 " From your house at Aldborough to her 
 brother's bedside at Zurich." 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone started , back at the 
 answer, and returned suddenly to his chair. 
 
 "How can you do that?" he inquii'ed, in 
 
 the greatest perplexity. " Her brother (hang 
 him I) is much better. She had another letter 
 from Zurich to say so, this morning." 
 
 " Did you see the letter ?" 
 
 " Yes. She always worries about her brothei 
 — sl'.e would show it to me." 
 
 '• Who was it from V and what did it say ?" 
 
 '• It was from the doctor — he always wi*itei 
 to her. I don't ('are two straws about h i 
 brother: and I don't remember much of the 
 letter, except that it was a short one. The 
 fellow was much better; and if the doctor 
 didn't write again she might take it for grant- 
 ed that he was getting well. That was the 
 substance of it." 
 
 '• Did you notice where she put the letter 
 when you gave it her back again ?" 
 
 " Yes ; she put it in the drawer where she 
 keeps her account-books." 
 
 " Can you get at that drawer ?" 
 
 " Of course I can. I have got a duplicate 
 key — I always insist on a duplicate key of the 
 place where she keeps her account-books. I 
 never allow tlie account-books to be locked up 
 j'rom my inspection : it 's a rule of the house." 
 
 ■' Be so good as to get that letter to-day, 
 Mr. Vanstone, without your housekeeper's 
 knowledge ; and add to the favor by letting 
 me have it here privately /or an hour or 
 two." 
 
 " AVhat do you want it for ?" 
 
 " I have some more cpiestions to ask before 
 I can tell you. Have you any intimate friend 
 at Zurich whom you could trust to help you in 
 playing a trick on Mrs. Lecount?" 
 
 " What sort of help do you mean ?" asked 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone. 
 
 *■ Suppose," said th(! captain, "you were to 
 send a letter addressed to Mrs. Lecount, at 
 Aldborough, inclosed in anotlier letter address- 
 ed to one of yom- friends abroad ? And sup- 
 pose you were to instruct that friend to help a 
 harmless practical joke by ])osting Mrs. Le- 
 count's letter at Zurich ? Do 3'ou know any 
 one who could be trusted to do that?" 
 
 " I know two people who cotild be trusted I" 
 cried Mr. Noel Vanstone. "Both ladies — 
 both spinsters — both bitter enemies of Le- 
 count's. But what is your drift, Mr. Bygrave ? 
 Though I am not usually wanting in penetra- 
 tion, I don't altogether see your dritt." 
 
 " You shall see it directly Mr. Vanstone." 
 
 With these words he rose, withdrew to his 
 desk in the corner of the room, and wrote a 
 few lines on a sheet of note-paper. After first 
 reading them carefully to himself, lie beckoned 
 to Mr. Noel Vanstone to come and read them 
 too. 
 
 " A few minutes since," said the captain, 
 pointing complacently to his own composition 
 with the feather end of his pen, "1 had the 
 honor of suggesting a pious fraud on Mrs. 
 Lecount. There it is !" 
 
 He resigned his chair at the writing-table to 
 his visitor. Mr. Noel Vanstone sat down and 
 read these lines : 
 
NO NAIVIE. 
 
 163 
 
 "Mt DEAR Madam.— Since I last wrote! deeply regret 
 (inform yon tUnt your brother lias snffereil a relapse. 
 The symptoms are so'serious tliat it is my painful duty to 
 Bumiiion vou instantly to his bedside. I am makins every 
 effort to "resist the renewed progress of tlie malady, and 
 I have not yet lost all hope of success. ]>ut I can not rec- 
 oncile it t I'niy conscience to leave yon in ignorance of n 
 serious clruige" in my patient for the wirse. which mat/ be 
 attended by fatal results. With much sympathy. 1 remain, 
 etc.. etc.. etc." 
 
 Captain Wrafrgo waited with some anxiety 
 for tlie ciri'd which this letter might profUu-e. 
 Mean, selfish, and cowardly as he was, even 
 Noid Vanstone might feel some compunction 
 at practicing sticli a deception as was here 
 su'To-ested on a woman who stood toward him 
 in the position of Mrs. Lecount. She had 
 served liini faithfully, however interested her 
 motives might be — she had lived, since he was 
 a lad, in tlie full po.ssession of his lather's con- 
 fidence — she was living now under the pro- 
 tection of his own roof Could he fail to 
 remember this; and, remembering it, could 
 he lend his aid without hesitation to the 
 scheme which was now proposed to him ? 
 Captain Wragtre unconsciously retained be- 
 lief enough in human nature to doubt it. To 
 his surprise, and, it must be added, to his relief 
 also, his apjirehensions proved to be perfectly 
 groundless. The only emotions aroused in Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone's mind by a perusal ot the let- 
 ter were a hearty admiration of his friend's 
 idea, and a vainglorious anxietj'' to claim the 
 credit to himself of being the person who 
 carried it out. H\am])les inay be found every 
 day of a fool who is no coward ; examples 
 may be ibund occasionally of a fool who is 
 not cunning; but it may reasonably be doubt- 
 ed whether there is a producible instance any- 
 where of a fool who is not cruel. 
 
 " Perfect I" cried Mr. Noel Vanstone, clap- 
 ping his hands. . " Mr. Bygrave, }ou are as 
 good as Figaro in the French comedy. Talk- 
 ing of Fj'ench, there is one .serious mistake in 
 this clever letter of yours — it is written in the 
 wrong language. When the doctor writes to 
 Lecount, he writes in French. Perhaps you 
 meant me to translate it? You can't manage 
 without my help, can you ? I write French as 
 fluently as I write English. Just look at me ! 
 I '11 translate it, while I sit here, in two strokes 
 of the pen." 
 
 He completed the translation almost as rap- 
 idly as Captain Wragge had produced the 
 original. " Wait a minute !" he cried, in high 
 critical trium])h at discovering another defect 
 in the composition of his ingenious friend. 
 " The doctor always dates his letters. Here is 
 no date to yours." 
 
 " I leave the date to you," said the captain, 
 with a sardonic smile. " You have discovered 
 the fault, my dear Sir — pray correct it !" 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone mentally looked into the 
 great gulf which separates the faculty that 
 can discover a defect from the faculty that 
 can apply a remedy — and, following the ex- 
 ample of many a wiser man, declined to cross 
 over it. 
 
 " I couldn't think of taking the liberty," he 
 said, politely. " Perhaps you had a motive for 
 leaving the date out ?" 
 
 " Perhaps I had," replied Captain Wragge, 
 with his easiest good humor. " The date must 
 depend on the time a letter takes to get to 
 Zurich. / have had no experience on that 
 point — you mast have had plenty of experi- 
 ence in your father's time. Give me tht>, ben- 
 efit of your information, and we will add 
 the date before you leave the writiuir-table." 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's experience was, as 
 Captain ^Vraggl> had anticipated, perfectly 
 competent to settle the question of time. The 
 railway resources of the Continent (in the 
 year eighteen hundred and tbrty-seven) were 
 but scanty ; and a letter sent, at that period, 
 from England to Zurich, and from Zurich 
 back again to England, occupied ten days in 
 making the double journey by post. 
 
 " Date the letter, in French, five days on 
 from to-morrow," said the captain, when he 
 had got his information. " Very good. The 
 next thing is to let me have the doctoi-'s note 
 as soon as you can. I may be obliged to 
 practice some hours before I can copy your 
 translation in an exact imitation of the doc- 
 tor's handwriting. Have you got any foreign 
 note-paper V Let me have a few sheets; and 
 send, at the same time, an envelope, addressed 
 to one of those lady - friends of yours at 
 Zurich, accompanied by th(! necessary re- 
 ()uest to post the iticlosure. That is all I need 
 trouble you to do, IMr. Vanstone. Don't let 
 me seem inhospitable; but the sooner you can 
 supply me with my materials, the better I 
 shall be pleased. We entirely understand 
 each other, I suppose ? Having accepted 
 your proposal for my niece's hand, I sanction 
 a private marriage in consideration of the cir- 
 cumstances on your side. A little harmless 
 stratagem is necessary to forward your views. 
 I invent the stratagem at your request, and 
 you make use of it without the least hesita- 
 tion. The result is, that in ten days from 
 to-morrow Mrs. Lecount will be on her way 
 to Switzerland — ^in fifteen days from to-mor- 
 row Mrs. Lecount will reach Zurich, and dis- 
 cover the trick we have played her — in 
 twenty days from to-morrow Mrs. Lecount 
 will be bark at Aldborough, and will find her 
 master's wedding-cards on the table, and bcr 
 master himself away on his honey -moon trip. 
 I put it arithmetically, for the sake of put- 
 ting it plain, (lod bless you. Good -morn- 
 ing !" 
 
 " I suppose I may have the happiness of 
 seeing Miss Bygrave to-morrow ?"' said Mv. 
 Noel Vanstone, turning round at the door. 
 
 " We must be carctui," replied Captain 
 Wragge. " I don't forbid to-morrow ; but I 
 make no promise beyond that. Permit me to 
 remind you that we have got Mrs. Lecount to 
 manage for the next ten days." 
 
 " I wish Lecount was at the bottom of the 
 German Ocean !" exclaimed Mr. Noel Van- 
 
164 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 stone, fervently. " It 's all very well for vou 
 to manage her — you ilon't live in the hoiue. 
 What am I to do V" 
 
 '•I 'II tell you to-morrow," said the captain. 
 "Go out for your walk alone, and drop in here, 
 as you dropped in to-day, at two o'clock. In 
 the meantime, don't forijet those things I want 
 you to send me. Seal them up together in a 
 large envelope. When you have done that, 
 ask Mrs. Leeoimt to walk out with you as 
 usual ; and while she is up stairs putting her 
 bonnet on send tlie servant across to me. You 
 understand ? Good-morning." 
 
 An hour afterwaid tlie sealed envelope, 
 with its inclosures, reached Captain Wrasrije 
 in perfect safety. The double task of exactlv 
 imitating a strange handwriting, and accu- 
 rately copying words written in a language 
 with which he Avas but slightly acquaintetl, 
 presented more difficulties'" to "be overcome 
 than the captain liad anticipated. It was 
 eleven o'clock before tlie cmj)loyment wl)ich 
 he had undertaken was successfully completed, 
 and the letter to Zurich ready for the post. 
 
 Before going to bed he walked out on the 
 deserted Parade to br(>athe the cool ni<:ht air. 
 All the lights were extinguished in Sea-View 
 Cottage, when he looked that way, except 
 the ligiit in the housekeeper's window. Cap> 
 tain Wragge shook his head suspiciously. He 
 had gained experience enough by this time to 
 distrust the wakefulness of iilrs. Lecount. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 If Captain Wragge could lutvp looked into 
 ]\Irs. Lecount's room while he stood on the 
 Parade watching the light in her wiiidow, he 
 woijld have seen the liousekeeper sitting ab- 
 sorbed in meditation over a worthless little 
 morsel of brown stuiF wliicli lay on her toilet- 
 table. 
 
 However exasperating to herself the con- 
 clusion might be, Mrs. Lecount could not fail 
 to see that she had been thus far met and baf- 
 fled successfully at every point. What was 
 she to do next ? If she sent for Mr. Pendril, 
 when he came to Aldborough (with only a few 
 hours spared from his business at her disposal) 
 w^hat definite cour.'se would there be for him 
 to follow ? If she showed I\Ir. Noel Vanstone 
 the original letter from which her note had 
 been copied, he would apply instantly to the 
 writer for an explanation — Avhich would ex- 
 pose the fabricated story by which Mrs. Le- 
 count had succeeded in imposing on Miss 
 Garth; and would in any event still declare, 
 on the evidence of his own eyes, that the test 
 by tlie marks on the neck had utterly failed. 
 Miss Vanstone, the elder, whose unexpected 
 ]>resence at Aldborough might have dona 
 A/onders — whose voice in the hall at North 
 Shingles, even if she had been admitted no 
 farther, might have reached her sister's ears, 
 
 and led to instant results — Miss Vanstone 
 the elder was out of the counti-}-, and was not 
 likely to return for a month at least. Look 
 as anxiously as I\Irs. Lecount might alons the 
 course which she had hitherto followed, she 
 failed to see her way through the accumu- 
 lated obstacles which now barred her ad- 
 vance. 
 
 Other women in this position might have 
 waited until circumstances altered and helped 
 them. Mrs. Lecount boldly retraced her 
 steps, and determined to find her way to her 
 end in a new direction. Resigning for the 
 present all tiirther attempt to prove tliat the 
 false IMiss Bygrave was the true IMagdalen 
 Vanstone, she resolved to narrow the range 
 of her next efforts, to leave the actual ques- 
 tion of Magdalen's identity untouched, and 
 to rest satisfied v.ith convincing her master of 
 this simpli; fact, that the young lady who was 
 charming him at North Shingles and the dis- 
 guised woman who had terrified him in Vaux- 
 hall Walk were one and the same person. 
 
 The means of effecting this new object 
 were, to all appearance, far less easy of at- 
 tainment than the means of effecting the ob- 
 ject which Mrs. L( count l;ad just resigned. 
 Here no help Avas to be expected i'rom others 
 — no ostensibly benevolent motives could be 
 put forward as a blind — no appeal could be 
 made to Mr. Pendril or to ]\Iiss Garth. Here 
 the housekeeper's only chance of success de- 
 pended, in the first place, on her being able 
 to effect a stolen entrance into the house; 
 .'ind, in the second place, on her ability to 
 discover Avhcther that memorable Alpaca 
 dress from which she had secretly cut the 
 fragment of stuii" ]ia])pened to form part of 
 Miss Bygrave's wardrobe. 
 
 Taking the difficulties now before her in 
 their order as they occurred, jNIrs. Lecount 
 first resolved to devote the next few days to 
 w.itching the habits of the inmates of North 
 Shingles from early in the morning to late at 
 night, and to testing the capacity of the one 
 servant in the house to resist, the temptation 
 of a bribe. Assuming tliat results proved suc- 
 cessful, and tba', cither by money or by strat- 
 jigem, she gained admission to North Shingles 
 (without the knowledge of IMr. Bygrave or 
 his niecej, she, turned next to the second diffi- 
 culty of the two — the difficulty of obtaining 
 access to Miss Bygrave's wardiobe. 
 
 If the servant ()roved corruptible, all obsta- 
 cles in this illrectlon might be considered as 
 removed beforehand. But if the servant 
 proved honest, the new problem Avas no easy 
 one to solve. 
 
 Long and careful consideration of the ques- 
 tion led the liousekeeper at last to the bold 
 resolution of obtaining an interview — if the 
 servant failed her — Avith Mrs. Bygrave her- 
 self. AVhat Avas the true cause of this lady's 
 mysterious seclusion ? AVas she a person of 
 the strictest and the most inconA'enient integ-; 
 rity ? or a person Avho could not be depended 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 165 
 
 on to preserve n scret? or a person wlio wms 
 as arlful nsMr. Bygrave Iiimself, and who was 
 kept, in re^oi've to fbi'wai'd the object ot' some 
 new deception which was yet to come ? In 
 the fir.-t two cases Mrs. Lecount could Trust 
 in her own powers of dissimulation, and in 
 the results which they might acliieve. In the 
 last case (if no other end was gained) it might 
 be of vital importance to her to discover an 
 enemy hidden in the dark. In any event, 
 she determined to run the risk. Of the tliree 
 chances in lier favor on wliich she had reck- 
 oni.'d at t'le or.tsetof the strngnle — the chance 
 of entrapping Magilalen by word of mouth, 
 the chance of enti'apping her by the lulp of 
 her friends, and tiie chance of entraj)ping her 
 bv means of Mrs. Bygrave — two liad been 
 tried, and two had failed. The third re- 
 mained to be tested yet, and the lliird might 
 succeed- 
 
 So the captain's enemy ])lotted against liim 
 in the privacy of her own chamber, while the 
 captain watched the light in her window from 
 the beach ontside. 
 
 Before bveakfast the next morning Captain 
 Wragie posted the Ibrged letter to Zurich 
 with his own hand. He went back to North 
 Siiingles with his mind not (juite tlecided on 
 the iourse to take with Mrs. Lecount during 
 the all-important interval of the next ten 
 days. 
 
 Gre;itiy to In's surprise, his doubts on this 
 point were abruptly decided, on his return to 
 the house. l)y ]\Iagdalen herself 
 
 He found her waiting tlir him in the room 
 where the breakfast was laid. She was walk- 
 ing restlessly to ami fro, with her head droop- 
 ing on her bosom, and her hair hanging disor- 
 dered over her shoulders. The moment she 
 lookt'd up. on his entrance, the captain felt the 
 fear which Mrs Wragge had felt before him — 
 the fear that her mind would be struck pros- 
 trate acfain. as it had been struck once already, 
 when Frank'.s letter reached her in Vau.xhall 
 Walk. 
 
 "Is he coming again to-day?" she asked, 
 pushing away from her the chair which Captain 
 Wragge offered, with such violence that she 
 threw it on the floor. 
 
 " Yes," said the captain, wisely answering 
 her in the fewes-t words. " He is coming at 
 two o'clock." 
 
 " Take me away !" she exclaimed, tossing 
 lier hair back wildly from her face. " Take 
 me away befon; he comes. I can't get over 
 the horror of marrying him while I am in this 
 hateful place ; take me somewhere %vhere I can 
 forget i(. or I shall go mad! (iive me two 
 <lay8 rest — two days out of sight of that horri- 
 ble sea — two days out of prison in this horrible 
 hoa.se — two days anywhere in the wide world, 
 away from Aldborough. I 'II come back with 
 you! I 'II go through with it to the end I 
 Only give me two days escape from that man 
 aud everything belonging to him! Da you 
 
 hear, you villain ?" she cried, seizing his arm. 
 and shaking it in a frenzy of passion — "I 
 have been tortured enough — I can bear it no 
 longer !" 
 
 Tliere was but one way of quieting her, and 
 the eapt;nn instantly took it. 
 
 " If you will try to control yourself," he 
 said, ''you shall leave Aldborough in an hour's 
 time." 
 
 She dropped his arm, and leaned back 
 heavily against the wall beliind Iwr. 
 
 "I '11 try," she answered, stiugglinrr tor 
 breath, but looking at him less wildly. " You 
 shan't coni]ilain of me, it" I can help it." She 
 attempted confusedly to take her handkerchief 
 from lier ajiron-pocket, and failed to fin<l it. 
 The ca))tain took it out for her. Her eyes 
 sottened, and she drew her breath more freely 
 as she received the handkerchief irom him. 
 " You are a kinder man than I thought vou 
 were," she said ; " I am sorry I spoke so pas- 
 sionately to you just now — I am very, very 
 sorry." The tears stole into her eyes, and she 
 offered him her hand with the native grace 
 and gentleness of happier days. ■' Be frien<l3 
 witii me again," she said, pleadingly. '• 1 'm 
 only a girl. Captain AVragge — I'm only a 
 giri'!" 
 
 He took her hand in silence, ])atted it for a 
 moment, and then opened the door for her to 
 go back to her own room again. There was 
 genuine regret in his lace as he showed her 
 that trifling attention. He was a vagabond 
 and a cheat; he had lived a mean, shuffling, 
 degraded life; but he was human, and she had 
 lound her way to the lost sympathies in him 
 which not even the self-profan.ition of a swin- 
 dler's existence could wholly destroy. ** Damn 
 the breakfast !" he said, when the servant 
 came in for her orders. " Go to the inn directly, 
 and say 1 want a carriage and pair at the door 
 in an hour's time." He went out into the 
 passage, still chafing under a sense of mental 
 disturbance which was new to him. and shouted 
 to his wile more fiercely than ever : *' Pack 
 up what we want for a week's absence, and be 
 I ready in half an hour !" Having issued those 
 directions, he returned to the breakfast-room, 
 and looked at the half-.spread table with an 
 impatient wonder at his disinclination to do 
 'justice to his own meal. " She has rubbed off 
 I the edge of my ap|)etite," he saiil to himself, 
 . with a forced laugh. " I '11 try a cigar, and a 
 [ turn in the fresh air." 
 
 ! If he hncl been twenty years younger thos« 
 
 remedies might have failed him. But where 
 
 • is the man to be found who've internal policy 
 
 j succumbs to revolution when that man is on 
 
 I the wrong side of fifty ? Exercise and change 
 
 { of ])lace gave the ca])t;iin back into the pos- 
 
 I session of himstdf. He recovered the lost 
 
 I sense of the flavor of his <igar, and recalled 
 
 I his wandering attention to the (juestion of his 
 
 appro.nhing absence from Aldborough. A 
 
 few minutes consideration satisfied his mind 
 
 that Magdaleu'i outbreak had forced him to 
 
166 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 take the course of all others which, on a fair 
 review of existing; emergencies, it was now 
 most desirable to adopt. 
 
 Captain Wragge's inquiries, on the evening 
 when he and Magdalen had drunk tea at Sea- 
 View, had certainly informed him that the 
 housekeeper's brother possessed a modest 
 competence ; that his sister was his nearest 
 living relative ; and that there were certain 
 unscrupulous cousins on the spot who were 
 anxious to usurp the place in his will which 
 properly belonged to Mr.-:. Lecount, Here 
 were strong motives to take the housekeeper 
 to Zurich when the false report of iier brother's 
 relapse reached England. But if any idea of 
 Noel Vanstone's true position dawned on her 
 in the meantime, who could say whether siie 
 might not at the eleventh hour prefer assert- 
 ing her large pecuniary interest in her master 
 to defending her small pecuniary interest at 
 her lM'other"s bedside 'i While that question 
 remained undecided the plain necessity of 
 checking the growth of Noel Vanstone's inti- 
 macy with the family at North Shingles did 
 not admit of a doubt, and of all means of 
 effecting that object norie could be less open 
 to suspicion than the tefftporary removal of the 
 household from their residence at Aldborough. 
 Thoroughly satisfied with tlie soundness of tliis 
 conclusion, Captain Wragge made straight for 
 Sea-View Coitage, to apologize and explain 
 before the carriage came and the departure 
 took place. 
 
 Mr. NTo.d Vanstone was easily accessible to 
 visitors: he was walking in the garden l)efore 
 breakfast. His disappointment and vexation 
 were freely expressed when he heard the 
 news which his friend had to communicate. 
 The captain's fluent tongue, however, soon 
 impressed on him the necessity of resignation 
 to present circumstances. The bare hint that 
 the " pious fraud" might fail after all, if any- 
 thing happened in the ten days interval to 
 enlighten Mrs. Lecount, had an instant effect 
 in making Mr. Noel Vanstone as patient and 
 as submissive as could be wished. 
 
 " I won't tell you wliere we are going, for 
 two good reasons," said Captain Wragge, 
 when his preliminary explanations were com- 
 pleted. " In the first place, I haven't made 
 up my mind yet ; and in the second place, if 
 you don't know what our destination is, Mrs. 
 Lecount can't worm it out of you. I have 
 not the least doubt she is watching us at this 
 moment from behind her window -curtain. 
 When she asks what I wanted with you this 
 morning, tell her I came to say good-by for a 
 few days — finding my niece not so well again, 
 and wishing to take her on a short visit to 
 some friends, to try change of air. If you 
 could produce an impression on Mrs. Le- 
 count's mind (without overdoing it) that you 
 are a little disappointed in me, and that you 
 are rather inclined to doubt my heartiness in 
 cultivating your acquaintance, you will great- 
 ly help our present object. You may depend 
 
 on our return to North Shingles in four or 
 five days at farthest. If anything strikes me 
 in tlie meanwhile, the post is always at our 
 servii.'e, and I won't fail to write to you." 
 
 " Won't Miss Bygrave write to me V" in- 
 quired Noel Vanstone, piteously. "Did she 
 know you were coming here ? Did she send 
 me no message V" 
 
 " Unpardonable on my part to have forgot- 
 ten it !" cried the captain. " She sent you 
 her love." 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone closed his eyes in silent 
 ecstasy. 
 
 AVheu he opened them again Captain. 
 Wragge had passed through the garden-gate, 
 and was on his way back to North Shingles. 
 As soon as his own door had closed on hira 
 Mrs. Lecount descended from the post of 
 observation whicli the captain had rightly 
 sus{)ected her of occupying, and addressed 
 the inquiry to her master which the captain 
 had rightly foreseen would follow his depart- 
 ure. The reply she received produced but 
 one impression on her mind. She at once 
 set it down as a falsehood, and returned to 
 her own window, to keep watch over North 
 Shingles more vigilantly than ever. 
 
 To her utter astonishment, after the lapse 
 of less than half an hour, she saw an empty 
 carriage draw up at Mr. Bygrave's door. 
 Luggage v.'as bi'ought out and packed on the 
 vehicle. IMiss Bygrave appeared, and took 
 her seat in it. She was followed into the 
 carriage by a lady of great size and stature, 
 whom the housekeeper conjectured to be Mrs. 
 Bygrave. The servant came next, and stood 
 waiting on the path. The last person to ap- 
 pear was Mr. Bygrave. He locked the house 
 door, and took the key away with him to a 
 cottage near at hand, which was the residence 
 of the landlord of North Shingles. On his 
 return he nodded to the servant — who walked 
 away by herself toward the humbler quarter 
 of the little town — and joined the ladie? in 
 the carriage. The coachman mounted the 
 box, and the vehicle disappeared. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount laid down the opera -glass, 
 through which she had been closely investi- 
 gating these proceedings, with a feeling of 
 helpless perplexity which she was almost 
 ashamed to acknowledge to herself. The 
 secret of Mr. Bygrave's object in suddenly 
 emptying his house at Aldborough of every 
 living creature in it was an impenetrable 
 mystery to her. 
 
 Submitting herself to circumstances with a 
 ready resignation which Captain Wragge had 
 not shown, on his side, in a similar situation, 
 Mrs. Lecount wasted neither time nor tem- 
 per in unprofitable guesswork. She left the 
 mystery to thicken or to clear as the future 
 might decide, and looked exclusively at the 
 uses to which she might put the morning's 
 event in her own interests. Whatever might 
 have become of the family at North Shingles, 
 the servant was left behind, and the servant 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 167 
 
 was exactly the person whose assistance might 
 now be of vital iniportam'e to the housekeep- 
 ers projects. Mrs. Lecount put on her bon- 
 net, inspected the collection of loose silver in 
 her purse, and set forth on the spot to make 
 the servant's acquaintance. 
 
 She went first to the cottage, at which Mr. 
 Bygrave had left tlie key of North Sliingles, 
 to discover the servant's present address from 
 the landlord. So far as this object mms con- 
 cerned her errand proved successful. The, 
 landlord knew tliat the girl had been allowed 
 to go home for a few days to her friends, and 
 knew in what part of Aldborough her friends 
 lived. But here his sources of information 
 suddenly dried up. He knew nothing of the 
 destination to which Mr. Bygrave and his 
 family had betaken themselvi's, and he was 
 pertectiv ignorant of the number of days over 
 Avhich their ab.senee might be expected to ex- 
 tend. All he could say was that he had not 
 received a notice to quit from his tenant, and 
 that he had been re(juested to kcej) the key of 
 the house in his possession until Mr. Bygrave 
 returned to claim it in his own person. 
 
 Biiffled, but not discouraued, ]\Irs. Lecount 
 turned her steps next toward the back street 
 of Aldborough, and astonished the servant's 
 relatives by conferring on them the honor of a 
 morning call. 
 
 Easily imposed on at starting by Mrs. Le- 
 count's pretense of calling to engage her 
 under the impression that she had left Mr. 
 Bygrave's service, the servant did her best to 
 answer the questions put to her. But she 
 knew as little as the landlord of her master's 
 plans. All she could say about them was that 
 she had not been dismissed, and that she was 
 to await the receipt of a note recalling her 
 when necessary to her situation at North 
 Shingles. Not having expected to find her 
 better informed on this part of the subject, 
 Mrs. Lecount smoothly .shifted her ground, 
 and led the woman into talking generally of 
 the advantages and defects of her situation in 
 ^Ir. Bygrave's family. 
 
 Profiting by the knowledge gained in this 
 indirect manner of the little secrets of the 
 household, Mrs. Lecount made two discover- 
 ies. She found out, in the first phx'e, that 
 the servant (having enough to do in attending 
 to tiie coarser part of the domestic work) was 
 in no position to disclose the secrets of Miss 
 Bygrave's wardrobe, which were known onlv 
 to the young lady her.'ielf and to her aunt. In 
 the second place, the housekeepi-r ascertained 
 that the true reason of Mrs. Bygrave's rio'id 
 seclu.sion was to be found in the i-imple fact 
 that she was little better than an idiot, and I 
 that her husband was probably ashamed of I 
 allowing her to be seen in public. These ap- 
 parently trivial discovt-ries enlightened Mrs. I 
 Lecount on a ^ery important point which had 
 been previously involved in <ioubt. She was ' 
 now satisfied that the likelie.-t wav to obtain- 
 ing a private investigation of Magdalen's 
 
 wardrobe lay through deluding the imbecile 
 lady, and not through bribing the ignorant 
 servant. 
 
 Having reached that conclusion, pregnant 
 with coming assaults on the weakly-tbrtified 
 di.^cretion of poor Mrs. Wragge. the house- 
 keeper cautiously abstained from exhibiting 
 herself any longer under an inrpiisitive as- 
 })ect. She changed the conversation to local 
 tonics, -waited until she was sure of leavinjr an 
 excellent impression "behind her, and then 
 took her leave. 
 
 Three days passed, and Mrs. Lecount and 
 her master — each with their widely-different 
 ends in view — watched with e(jual anxiety 
 for the first signs of returning life in tlie 
 direr'tion of North Shingles. Li that interval 
 no letter either from the uncle or the niece 
 avrivt'd for Mr. Xoel Vanstone. His sincere 
 feeling of irritation under this negh'ctful 
 treatment greatly assisted the effect ol' those 
 feigned doubts on the subject of his absent 
 friends which the captain had recommended 
 him to ex])iess in the housekeeper's ]irescnce. 
 He confessed Ids apprehensions of having 
 been mistaken, not in !Mr. Bygrave only, but 
 even in his niece as avcII, with such a genuine 
 air of annoyance that he actually contributed 
 a new element of confusion to the existingper- 
 plexities of Mrs. Lecoimt. 
 
 On the morning of the fourth day Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone met the postman in the garden, 
 and, to his great relief, discovered among the 
 letters delivered to him a note from Mr. By- 
 grave. 
 
 Tlie date of the note was " Woodbridge," 
 and it contained a few lines only. Mr. By- 
 grave mentioned that his niece was belter, ami 
 that she sent her love as before. He propo.sed 
 returning to Aldborough on tlie next day, 
 when he would have some new considerations 
 of a strictly private nature to present to Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone's mind. In the meantime he 
 would beg Mr. Vanstone not to call at North 
 Shingles until he received a special invitation 
 to do so, which invitation should certainly be 
 given on the day when the family returned. 
 The motive of this apparently strange request 
 should be explained to Mr. Vanstone's perfect 
 satisfaction when he was once niore united to 
 his friends. Until that period arrived the 
 strictest caution was enjoined on him in all his 
 communications with ]\Irs. Lecount; and the 
 Instant destruction of ]\Ir. Bygrave's letter, 
 after due jierusal of it, was (if the classical 
 phrase might be pardoned) a i^ine qua non. 
 
 The fifth day came. Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 (after submitting himself to the sine qua non, 
 and destroying the letter) waited anxiously 
 for restdts: while Mrs. Lecount, on her side, 
 watched patiently for events. Toward three 
 o'cloik in the afternoon the carriage appeared 
 again at the jrate of North Shingles. Mr. By- 
 giave j_rni otit. and tripped away briskly to the 
 landlord's ( oltajre for the kcv. He returned 
 
16S 
 
 NO JS-^AME. 
 
 with the ser\ant at his heels. Miss By^rave 
 lel't the carriajfc; har giant relative followed 
 her example ; the housL-door was opened ; the 
 trunks v\^ere taken oH"; the ean'iage disa[»pear- 
 cd ; and the Bygraves were at home agaii\ ! 
 
 Four o'clock struck, five o'clock, six o'clock, 
 and nothing happened. In half an hour more 
 Mr. Bygrave — spruce, speckless, and respect- 
 able as ever — ajipeared on the Parade, saun- 
 tering composedly in the direction of Sea- 
 View. 
 
 Instead of at once entering the house, he 
 passed it, stopped, as if struck by a sudden 
 recollection, and, retracing his steps, asked 
 i'or Mr. Vanstone at the door. Mr. Vanstone 
 came out ho.-;pitabIy into the passage. Pitching 
 iiis voice to a tone which could easily be heard 
 by any listening individual through any open 
 door in the bedroom regions, Mr. Bygreive 
 announced the object of his visit, on the door- 
 mat, in the fewest possible words. He had 
 been staying with a distant relative. The dis- 
 tant relative possessed two picture s — Gems by 
 the Old Masters — which he was willing to dis- 
 pose of, and which he had intrusted for that 
 purpose to Mi: Bygrave's care. If Mr. Isoel 
 V^anstone, as an amateur in such matters, 
 wished to see the Gems, they would be visible 
 in half an hour's time, when Mr. Bygrave 
 would have returned to North Shingles. 
 
 Having delivered himself of this incompre- 
 hensible announcement, the arch-conspirator 
 laid his signilicant forefinger along the side 
 of his short lloman nose — said, "Fine M'eather, 
 isn't it? Good afternoon!" — and sauntered 
 out inscrutablv to continue his walk on the 
 Parade. 
 
 On the expiration of the half-liour j\Ir. Noel 
 Vanstone j/resented himself at North Shingles, 
 Avith the ardor of a lovei' burning inextinguish- 
 ably in his bosom through the superincumbent 
 mental fog of a thoroughly bewildered man. 
 To liis inexpressible happiness he found Mp.g- 
 dalen alone in the parlor. Never yet had she 
 looked so beautiful in his eyes. The rest and 
 relied' of her four (jajs absence from Aldbor- 
 ough had not failed to produce their results: 
 she had more tlian recovered her composure. 
 Vibrating perpetually from one violent ex- 
 treme to another, she had now passed from the 
 passionate despair of five days since to a fiever- 
 ish exaltation of spirits which defied all re- 
 morse and confronted all consequences. Her 
 eyes sparkled; her cheeks were bright with 
 color; she talked incessantly, with a forlorn 
 mockery of the girlish gayety of past days — 
 she laughed with a deplorable persistency in 
 laughing — she imitated Mrs. Lecount's smooth 
 voice ami Mrs. Lecount's insinuating graces of 
 manner, with an overcharged resemblance to 
 the original, wiiich was but the coarse i-eflection 
 of the dclicat(dy-accurate mimicry of ibrhier 
 times. Mr. Noel Vanstone, who had never yet 
 seen her as he saw hm* now, was enchanted ; 
 liis v.eak head whirled with an intoxication of 
 enjoyment ; his wizen eheek.s flushed as if they 
 
 j had caught the infection from hers. The half- 
 
 ' hour during which he was alone with her 
 
 I passed like five minu*'es to him. When that 
 
 ! time had elapsed, and when she suddenly left 
 
 ! liiin — to obey a previously-arranged sunmions 
 
 I to her aunt's presence — miser as he was — he 
 
 would have paid at that moment five golden 
 
 ■ sovereigns out of his pocket for five golden 
 
 ' minutes more passed in her society. 
 
 I The door had hardly closed on Magdalen 
 
 j before it opened again and the captain walked 
 
 I in. He entered on the explanations which 
 
 I his visitor naturally expected from him. with 
 
 the unceremonious abruptness of a man hard 
 
 pressed for time, and determined to make the 
 
 most of every moment at his disposal. 
 
 '* Since we last saw each other," he began, 
 "I have been reckoning up the chances for 
 and against us as we stand at present. The 
 result on my own mind is this : If you are still 
 -at Aldborough when that letter from Zurich 
 reaches ]Mrs. Lecount, all the pains we have 
 taken will have been pains thrown away. If 
 your housekeeper had fifty broths rs all dying 
 together, she would throw the whole fifty over 
 sooner than leave you alon(> at St;a-View while 
 we are your neighbors at North Shingles." 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanslone's flushed cheeks turned 
 pale with dismay. His own knowledge of 
 Mi's. Lecount told him that this view of the 
 case was the right one. 
 
 " If ice go away again," proceeded the cap- 
 tain, "nothing will be gained; for nothing 
 would persuade your housekeeper, in that 
 case, that we have not left you the means 
 of following us. You must lea\e Aldborough 
 this time ; and, what is more, you must go 
 without leaving a siPigle visible trace behind 
 you ibr us to follow. If we accomplish this 
 object in the course of the next five days, 
 INIrs. Lecount Avill take the journey to Zu- 
 rich. If we fail, siie will be a fixture at Sea- 
 View to a dead certaint}'. Don't ask ques- 
 tions ! I have got your instructions ready for 
 you, and I want your closest attention to 
 them. Your marria;re with my niece depends 
 on your not forgetting a word of what I am 
 now going to tell you. One question first. 
 Have you followed my advice V Have you 
 told Mrs. Lecount you are beginning to think 
 yourself mistaken in meV" 
 
 " I did worse than that," replied Mr. Noel 
 Vanstone, penitently. '• I committed an out- 
 rage on my own feelings. I disgraced myself 
 by saying that I doubted Miss Bygrave !" 
 
 " Go on disgracing yourself, my dear Sir ! 
 Doubt us both with all your might, and I '11 
 I help you. One question more. Did I speak 
 I lou(i enough this afternoon V Did Mrs. Le- 
 count hear me ?" 
 I "Yes. Lecount opened her door : Lecount 
 i heard you. AVhat made you give nu; that 
 j message ? I see no pictures here. Is this 
 j another pious fraud, Mr. Bygrave ?" 
 I " Admirably guessed, Mr. Vanstone I You 
 j will see the oVjject of my imaginary picture- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 169 
 
 dealins in c'lo vrsy next words which I am 
 now iibaut lo addicss to you. When you get 
 back to Sca-Vicw this is wliat you are to say 
 U) Mrs. Lc.count. Tell her tliat my relative's 
 works of Art arc two worthless pi<;tiires — 
 copies from liic Old Masters, wliich I have 
 tried to sell von, as originals, at an exorbitant 
 price. Say Von suspect me of being little 
 better than a plausible impostor, and ])ity 
 my unfortunate niece for being associated witii 
 sadi a ra.scal as I am. There is your text 
 to speak from. Say in many words what I 
 have just said in few. You can do that, can't 
 you ?" 
 
 " Of course I can do it," said Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone. "But I can tell you one thing — Le- 
 count won't believe me." 
 
 " Wait a little, Mr. Vunstone ; I have, not 
 done with my instructions yet. You under- 
 stand what I have just told you ? Very good. 
 We may get on from to-day to to-morrow. 
 Go out to-morrow with Mrs. Leoount at your 
 usual time. 1 will meet you on the Parade 
 and bow to you. Instead of returning' my 
 bow, look the other way — in plain English, 
 cut me ! That is easy enough to do. Isn't it?" 
 
 " She won't believe rac, Mr. Bygrave— she 
 won't bc!ie^e me !" 
 
 " Wait a little again, ISIr. Vanstone. There 
 are more instructions to come. Y'^ou liave got 
 your directions for to-day, and you have got 
 your directions for to-morrow. Now for the 
 day after. The day after is the seventh day 
 since we sent the letter to Zurich. On the 
 seventh day decline to go out walking as 
 before, from dread of the annoyance of meet- 
 ing me again. Grumble about the smallness 
 of the place ; complain of your health ; wish 
 you had never come to Aldboroiigh, and never 
 made acquaintance with the Bygraves ; and 
 when you have well worried Mrs. Lecount 
 with your discontent, ask her on a sudden 
 if she can't suggest a change for the better. 
 If J on put that question to her naturally, 
 do yon think she can be depended on to 
 answer it ';'" 
 
 " She won't want to be questioned at all," 
 replied Mr. Noel Vanstone, irritably. "I 
 have only got to say I am tired of Aid- 
 borough, and if she believes me — which she 
 won't ; I 'm (piite positive, Mr. Bygrave, she 
 won't! — she will liave her suggestion ready 
 before I can ask for it." 
 
 " Ay, ay !" said the captain, eagerly. " There 
 is some place, then, that Mrs. Lecount wants 
 to go to this autumn V" 
 
 " She wants to go there (hang her !) every 
 autumn." 
 
 " To go where ?" 
 
 "To Admiral Bartram's — jou don't know 
 him, do you? — at St. Crux-in-tho-^larsh." 
 
 "Don't lose your patience, Mr. Vanstone! 
 What yon .ire now tilling me is of the most 
 vital importance to the object we hare in 
 view. Who is Admiral Bartram?" 
 
 " An old friend of my father's. My father 
 -22 ' 
 
 laid him under obligations — my father lent 
 him money when they were both young men. 
 I am like one of the family at St! Crux ; my 
 room is always kept ready for me. Not that 
 there 's any family at the admiral's except his 
 nephew, George Bartram. George is my 
 cousin. I 'm as intimate with (Jeorge as my 
 father was with tlie admiral ; and I 've been 
 sharper than my father, for I haven't lent my 
 friend any money. Lecount always makes a 
 show of liking George — I believe, to annoy 
 me. She likes the admiral too: he flatters 
 her vanity. lie always invites her to come 
 with me to St. Crux. He lets her have one of 
 the best bedrooms, and treats her as if she was 
 a lady. She 's as j)roud as Lucifer — she likes 
 being treated like a lady — and she pesters me 
 every autumn to go to St. Crux. What's the 
 matter ? What are you taking out your 
 pocket-book for ?" 
 
 " I want the admiral's address, Mr. Van- 
 stone — for a purpose which I will explain 
 immediately." 
 
 With those words Captain Wragge opened 
 his pocket-book and wrote down the address 
 from Mr. Noel Vanstone's dictation, as fol- 
 lows: "Admiral Bartram, St. Ci'ux -in- the - 
 Marsh, near Ossory, Esse.x." 
 
 " Good !" cried the captain, closing his 
 pocket-book again. " The only dilliculty that 
 stood in our way is now cleared out of it. 
 Patience, Mr. Vanstone — patience ! Let us 
 take up my instructions again at the point 
 where we droj)ped them. Give me five 
 minutes more attention, and you will see 
 your way to your marriage as p^inly as I 
 see it. On the day after to-morrow you 
 declare you are tired of Aldboroug.'h, and 
 Mrs. Lecount sugaests St. Crux. You don't 
 say yes or no on the spot ; you take the next 
 day to consider it, and you make up your 
 mind the last thing at night to go to St. Crux 
 the first thing in the morning. Are you in 
 the habit of superintending your own pack- 
 ing up ? or do you usually shift all the trouble 
 of it on Mrs. Lccount's shoulders?" 
 
 " Lecount has all the trouble, of course ; 
 Lecount is paid lor it ! But I don't really go, 
 do I ?" 
 
 " You go as fast as horses can take you 
 to the railway, without having held any pre- 
 vious communication with this house either 
 personally or by letter. You leave Mrs. Le- 
 count behind to pack up your curiosities, to 
 settle with the trade-siuople, and to follow 
 you to St. Crux the next morning. The next 
 morning is the tenth morning. On the tenth 
 morning she receives the letter from Zurich ; 
 and if you only carry out my instructions, 
 Mr. N'anstone, as sure as you sit there to 
 Zurich slie goes !" 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone's color began to rise 
 again as the captain's stratagem dawned on 
 him at last in its true light. 
 
 " And what am I to do at St. Crux V" he 
 inquired. 
 
170 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 " "Wait there till I call for you," replied the 
 captain. " As soon as Mrs. Lecouut's back is 
 turned I will go to the church here and give 
 the necessary notice of the marriage. The 
 same day or the next I will travel to the 
 address written down in my poi'ket-book, pick 
 you up at the admiral's, and take you on to 
 London with me to get the license. With that 
 document in our possession we shall be on our 
 way back to Aklborough while Mrs. Lecouut 
 18 on her way out to Zurich, and before .she 
 starts on her return journey you and my 
 niece will be man and wife ! There are your 
 future prospects for you. What do you think 
 of them V" 
 
 " What a head you have got ! " cried Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone, in a sudden outburst of en- 
 thusiasm. " You 're the most extraordinary 
 man I ever met with. One would tliink you 
 had done nothing all your life but take people 
 in." 
 
 Captain Wragge received that unconscious 
 tribute to his native genius with the compla- 
 cency of a man who felt that he thoroughly 
 deserved it. 
 
 " I have told you already, my dear Sir," be 
 said modestly, " that 1 never do things by 
 halves. Pardon me for reminding you that 
 we have no time for exchanging mutual civil- 
 ities. Are you quite sure about your instruc- 
 tions ? I dare not write them down for fear 
 of accidents. Try the systs-m of artificial 
 memory — count your inslructions off, after 
 me, on your thumb and your four fingers. To- 
 day you tell Mrs. Lecount I have tried to take 
 you in with my relative's works of Art. To- 
 morrow you cut me on the Parade. The day 
 after you refuse to go out, you get tired of 
 Aldborougli, and you allow Mrs. Lecount to 
 make her suggestion. The next day you ac- 
 cept the suggestion. And the next day to 
 that you go to St. Crux. Once more, my 
 dear Sir ! Thumb — works of Art. Fore- 
 finger — cut me on the Parade. Middle fin- 
 ger — tired of Aldborough. Third finger — 
 take Lecount's advice. Little finger — off to 
 St. Crux. Nothing can be clearer — nothing 
 <'an be easier to do. Is there anything you 
 don't understand ? Anything that I can ex- 
 plain over again before you go ? " 
 
 " Only one thing,' said Mr. Noel Vanstone. 
 " Is it settled that I am not to come here again 
 before I go to St. Crux ? " 
 
 " Most decidedly ! " answered the captain. 
 " The whole success of the enterprise depends 
 on your keeping away. Mrs. Lecount will try 
 the credibility of everything you say to her 
 by one test — the test of your communicating, 
 or not, with this house. She will watch you 
 night and day ! Don't call here, don't send 
 messages, don't write letters — don't even go 
 out by yourself Let her see you start for St. 
 Crux on her suggestion, with the absolute cer- 
 tainty in her own mind that you have followed 
 her advice, without communicating it in any 
 form whaiiever to me or to my niece. Do 
 
 that, and she must believe you, on the best 
 of all evidence for our Interests, and the worst 
 for hers — the evidence of her own senses." 
 
 With those last words of caution he shook 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone warmly by the hand, and 
 sent him home on the spot. 
 
 Captain Wragge retired to rest that night 
 in high spirits. He jocosely apostrophized the 
 extinguisher in his candlestick as he raised it 
 to put the light out. " If I could only drop 
 you on Mrs. Lecount," said the captain, " I 
 might bid good-by to the last anxiety left on 
 this side of the wedding-day ! " 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 On returning to Sea- View Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone executed the instructions which pre- 
 scribed his line of conduct for the first of the 
 five days with unimpeachable accuracy. > A 
 faint smile of contempt hovered about Mrs. 
 Lecount's lips while the story of Mr. By- 
 grave's attempt to pass off his spurious pic- 
 tures as originals was in progress, but she did 
 not trouble herself to utter a single word of 
 remark when it had come to an end. " Just 
 what I said ! " thought Mr. Noel Vanstone, 
 cunningly watching her face — " she doesn't 
 believe a word of it ! " 
 
 The next day the meetlns; occurred on the 
 Parade. Mr. Bygrave took^ off his hat, and 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone looked the other way. 
 The captain's start of surprise and scowl of 
 indignation were executed to perfection, but 
 they plainly failed to impose on Mrs. Lecount. 
 " I am afraid, Sir, you have offended Mr. 
 Bygrave to-day," she ironically remarked. 
 " Happily for you, he is an excellent Chris- 
 tian, and I venture to predict that he will 
 forgive you to-morrow," 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone wisely refrained from 
 commlttlnnr himself to an answer. Once more 
 he privately applauded his own penetration ; 
 once more he triumphed over his ingenious 
 friend. 
 
 Thus far the captain's instructions had been 
 too clear and simple to be mistaken by any 
 one. But they advanced in complication with 
 the advance of time ; and on the third day 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone fell confusedly into the 
 commission of a slight error. After express- 
 ing the necessary weariness of Aldborough, 
 and the consequent anxiety for change of 
 scene, he was met (as he had anticipated) by 
 an immediate suggestion from the housekeep- 
 er, recommending a visit to St. Crux. In 
 giving his answer to the advice thus tendered 
 he made his first mistake. Instead of defer- 
 ring his decision until the next day, he ac- 
 cepted Mrs. Lecount's suggestion on the day 
 when it was offered to him. 
 
 The consequences of this error were of no 
 great importance. The housekeeper merely 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 171 
 
 set herself to watc-h ber master one day ear- 
 lier than had been calculated on — a result 
 which had already been provided for by the 
 wise precautionary measure of forbidding Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone all communication with North 
 Shingles. Doubting, as Captain Wragge ha<l 
 foreseen, the sincerity of her master's desire 
 to break off his connection with the Bygraves 
 by going to St. Cru.x, Mj-s. Lecount tested the 
 trutli or falsehood of the impression produced 
 on her own mind by vigilantly watching for 
 signs of secret communication ou one side or 
 on the other. The close attention Avitli which 
 she had hitherto observed the outgoings and 
 incomings at North Shinglcfs was now entirely 
 transferred to her master. For the rest of 
 that third day she never let him out of her 
 sight; she never allowed any third person who 
 came to the house, on any pretense whatever, 
 a minute's chance of private communication 
 with him. At intervals through the uiglit 
 she stole to the door of his I'oom to listen and 
 assure herself that he was in bed ; and before 
 sunrise the next morning tlie coast-guardsman 
 going his rounds was surprised to see a lady, 
 who Iiad risen as carb* as himself engaged 
 over her work at one of the upper windows of 
 Sea- View. 
 
 On the fourth morning Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 came down to breakfast conscious of the mis- 
 take that he had committed on the previous 
 day. The obviolis course to take, for the pur- 
 pose of gaining time, was to declare that his 
 mind was still undecided. He made the as- 
 sertion boldly when the Itousekeeper asked 
 him if lie meant to move that day. Again 
 Jlrs. Lecount offered no remark, and again 
 the signs and tokens of incredulity showed 
 themselves in her fiice. Vacillation of pur- 
 pose was not at all unusual in her experience 
 of her master. But on this occasion she be- 
 lieved that his caprice of conduct was a.ssumed 
 for the purpose of gaining time to communi- 
 cate with North Shingles, and she accordingly 
 set her watch on him once more with doubled 
 and trebled vigilance. 
 
 No letters came that morning. Toward 
 noon the weather changed for the worse, and 
 all idea of walking out as usual was aban- 
 doned. Hour after hour, while 'her master 
 pat in one of the parlors, Mrs. Lecount kept 
 watch in the other — with the door into the 
 paj^sage open, and with a full view of North 
 Shingh s through the convenient side window 
 at wiiich she had established herself Not a 
 sign tiiat was suspicious appeared; not a sotind 
 that was suspicious caught her ear. As the 
 evening closed in her master's hesitation came 
 to an end. lie was disgusted with t.lie weath- 
 er ; he hated the place ; he foresaw the an- 
 noyance of more meetifigs with Mr. Bygrave, 
 and he was determined to go to St. Crux the 
 first thing the next morning. Lecount could 
 8tay behind to pack up the furiosities and 
 settle with the tradespeople, and could follow 
 him to the admiral's on the next day. The 
 
 housekeeper was a little staggered by the tone 
 and manner in which he gave these orders. 
 He had, to her own certain knowledge, effect- 
 ed no communication of any sort with North 
 Shingles, and yet he seemed determined to 
 leave Aldborough at the earliest possible op- 
 portunity. For the first time she hesitated 
 in her adherence to her own conclusions. 
 She remembered that Iier master had com- 
 plained of the Bygraves before they returned 
 to Aldborough, and she was conscious that her 
 own incredulity had once already misled her 
 when the appearance of the travelling-car- 
 riage at the door had proved even Mr. By- 
 grave himself to be as good as his word. 
 
 Still Mrs. Lecount determined to act with 
 unrelenting caution to the last. Tliat night, 
 when the doors were closed, she pri\ately 
 removed the keys from the door in front and 
 the door at the back. She then soi'th- opened 
 her bedroom window and sat down by it, witli 
 her bonnet and cloak on, to prevent her tak- 
 ing cold. Mr. No(.l Vanstoiies window was 
 on the same side of the house as lier own. If 
 any one came in the dark to speak to him 
 from the garden beneath they would speak to 
 his housekeeper as well. Prepared at all 
 points to intercept every form of clandestine 
 communication which stratagem could invent, 
 Mrs. Lecount watched through the quiet night. 
 When morning came slie stole down stairs 
 before the servant was up, restored the keys 
 to their places, and reoccupied her position in 
 the parlor until Mr. Noel Vanstone made his 
 appearance at the breakfast- table. Had he 
 altered his mind ? No. He declined posting 
 to the railway on account of the expense, but 
 he was as firm as ever in his resolution to go 
 to St. Crux. He desired that an inside place 
 might be secured for him in the early coach. 
 Suspicious to the last, Mrs. Lecount sent the 
 baker's man to take the place. He was a 
 public servant, and Mr. Bygrave would not 
 suspect him of performing a j)rivate errand. 
 
 The coach called at Sea-View. Mrs. F^e- 
 count saw her master established in his place, 
 and ascertained that the oth.er three inside 
 seats were alread}' occupied by strangers. Siie 
 inquired of the coachman if the out.side places 
 (all of which were not yet filled up) hail their 
 full complement of pas.sengcrs also. The man 
 replied in the affirmative. He had two gen- 
 tlemen to call for in the town, and the others 
 would take their places at the inn. Mrs. Le- 
 count forthwith turned her steps toward the 
 inn, and took up her position on the Parade 
 opposite, from a point of view which would 
 enable her to se«' the last of the coach on its 
 departure. Tn ten minutes more it rattled 
 away, full outside and in; and tiie housekeej>- 
 er's own eyes assured her that neither Mr. 
 Bv^rave himself nor any one belonging U> 
 North Shingles was among the passengers. 
 
 There was only one more precaution to , 
 
 take, and Mrs. Lecount did not neglect it. 
 Mr. Bygrave ha<l doubtless seen the coach 
 
172 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 call at Sea- View. He might hire a carriaje 
 and follow it to the railway, on pure specula- 
 tion. Mrs. Lecount remained within view of 
 the inn (the only place at which a carriajrc 
 could be obtained) for nearly an hour longer, 
 waiting for events. Nothing happened T no 
 carriage made its appearance; no pursuit of 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone was now within the range 
 of human possibility. The long strain on 
 Mrs. Lecount's mind relaxed at last. She left 
 her seat on the Parade, and returned, in 
 higher spirits than usual, to perform the clos- 
 ing household <-eremonies at Sea- View. 
 
 She sat down alone in the parlor, and drew 
 a long breath of relief. Captain Wraggc's 
 calculations had not deceived him. The evi- 
 dence of her own senses had at last conquered 
 the housekeeper's incredulity, and had literally 
 forced her into the opposite extreme of b(^lief. 
 
 Estimating the events of tlie last three dap 
 from her own experience of them ; knowing 
 (as she certainly knew) tliat the first idea of 
 going to St. Crux had been started by herself, 
 and that her master had found no opportunity 
 and shown no inclination to inform the family 
 at North Shingles that he had accepted her 
 propostd — Mrs. Lecount was fairly compelled 
 to acknowledge that not a fragment of foun- 
 dation remained to justify the continued suspi- 
 cion of ti'eachery in her own mind. J.ooking 
 at the succession of circumstances under the 
 new light thrown on them by results, she 
 could see nothing unaccountable — nothins 
 contradictory anywhere. The attempt to 
 pass off the forged pictures as originals was in 
 perfect harmony with the character of such a 
 man as Mr. Bygrave. Her master's indigna- 
 tion at the attempt to impose on him ; his 
 plainly-expressed suspicion that Miss Bygrave 
 was privy to it; his disappointment in the 
 niece; his contemptuous treatment of tlie 
 uncle on the Parade; 'his weariness of the 
 place wliich had been the scene of his rash 
 intimacy with strangers, and his readiness to 
 quit it that morning — all commended them- 
 ■selves as genuine realities to the housekeep- 
 -er's mind, for one sufficient reason. Her own 
 eyes had seen Mr. Noel Vanstone take his de- 
 parture from Aldborough without leaving, or 
 attempting to leave, a single trace behind him 
 for the Bygraves to follow. 
 
 Thus far the housekeeper's conclusions led 
 ■her, but no farther. She was too shrewd a 
 woman to trust the future to chance and for- 
 tune. Her master's variable temper might 
 relent. Accident might at any time give 
 Mr. Bygrave an opportunity of repairing the 
 error that he had committed, and of artfully 
 regainiiig liis lost place in Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone's estimation. Admitting that circum- 
 stances had at last declared themselves un- 
 mistakably in her favor, Mrs. Lecount was 
 not the less convinced that nothing would 
 permanently assure her master's security for 
 the i'uture but the plain exposure of the con- 
 spiracy which she ha,d striven to accomplish 
 
 from the first — which she was resolved to 
 accomplish still. 
 
 " I always enjoy myself at St. Crux," 
 thought Mr.s. Lecount, opening her account- 
 books, and sorting the tradesmen's bills. " The 
 admiral is a gentleman, the house is noble, 
 the table is excellent. No matter! Here, 
 in this house, I stay by myself till I have seen 
 the inside of Miss Bygrave's wardrobe." 
 
 She packed her master's collection of curi- 
 osities in their various cases, settled the claims 
 of th(! tradespeople, and superintended tha 
 coverinsT of the furniture in the course of tha 
 day. Toward nightfall she went out, bent on 
 investigation, and ventured into the garden at 
 North Shingles under cover of the darkness. 
 She saw the light in the parlor window, and 
 the lights in the windows of the rooms up 
 stairs, as usual. After an instant's hesitation 
 she stole to the house-door, and noiselessly 
 tri(;d the handle from the outside. It turned 
 the lock as she had expected, IVom her expe- 
 rience of houses at Aldborough and at other 
 watering-places; but the door resisted her — 
 the door was distrustfully bolted on the in- 
 side. After making that discovery she went 
 round to the back of the house, and ascer- 
 tained that the door on that side was secured 
 in the same manner. " Bolt your doors, Mr. 
 Bygrave, as i'list as you like," said the house- 
 keeper, stealing back agaift to the Parade. 
 " You can't bolt the entrance to your ser- 
 vant's pocket. The best lock you have may 
 be op(!ned by a golden key." 
 
 She went back to bed. The ceaseless watcli- 
 ing, the unrelaxing excitement of the last 
 two days, had worn lier out. 
 
 The next morning she rose at seven o'clock. 
 Li half an hour more she saw the punctual 
 Mr. Bygrave — as she had seen him on many 
 previous mornings at the same time — issue 
 ti'om the gate of North Shingles, with bia 
 towels under his arm, and make his way to a 
 boat that was waiting for him on the beach. 
 Swimming was one among the many personal 
 accom[)lishments of wliich the captain waa 
 master. He was rowed out to sea every morn- 
 ing, and took his bath luxuriously in the deep 
 blue water. Mrs. Jjccount had already com- 
 puted the time consumed in this recreation 
 by her watch, and had discovered that a full 
 hour usually elapsed from the moment when 
 he embarked on the beach to th.e moment 
 when he returne<l. 
 
 During tliat period she had never seen any 
 other inhabitant of North Shingles leave the 
 house. The servant was no doubt at her 
 work in the kitchen ; Mrs. Bygrave was prob- 
 ably still in her bed ; and Miss Bygrave (if 
 she was up at that early hour) had perhaps 
 received directions not to venture out in her 
 uncle's absence. The difficulty of meeting 
 the obsta(,'le of Magdalen's presence in the 
 house had been, for some days past, the one 
 difTiculty which all Mrs. Lecount's ingenuity 
 had thus far proved unable to overcome. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 Ud 
 
 She 3at at the. wiiulow for a quarter of an 
 hour after the captain's boat had left the 
 beach, with her mind liard at work, and her 
 eyes fixed nKH'haiiically on North Sliingles — 
 •he sat, con.iidering what' written excuKC sbe 
 coidd send to her master lor dehayinir her 
 departure I'rom Aldborough for some days to 
 <;onie — when the door of the house she was 
 watcliiiijr suddenly opened, and Ma;vdalen her- 
 self ;iiij)eared in the garden. There^was no 
 mistaking her figure and her dress. She took 
 a few steeps hastily toward the gate ; stopi)t'd, 
 and j)nl!ed down the veil of her garden-hat, as 
 iCshe f.it tlie clear morninLr liglit too much for 
 her — then hurried out on t!ie P.n-ade, and 
 walked awnv northward in such haste, or in 
 sucli preoccupation of mind, that she went 
 through the garden -gate without closing it 
 after licr. 
 
 jMrs. Lecount started up from her chair, with 
 a momeni's doubt of the evidence of her own 
 eyes. Had the opjiortunity which .she had 
 been vainly plotting to produce actually offered 
 itself to her of its own accord? Had the 
 chances declared themselves at last in her 
 favor, after steadily acting against hor for so 
 long? There was no doubt of it: in the 
 popular phrase, '• lier luck had turned." She 
 snatchetl up her bonnet and uiantilla, and 
 made for North Shingles witliout an instant's 
 hesitation. Mr. Bygravo out at sea; Mi.ss l>y- 
 grave away for a walk ; Mrs. Bygrave and the 
 servant both at home, and both easily dealt 
 with — the op])ortunity Mas not to be lost; the 
 risk was well worth running! 
 
 This time the house-door was easily opened ; 
 no one had bolted it again after i\Iagdaleu's 
 dcp irturc. Mrs. Lecount closed the door softly, 
 listened for a moment in the passage, and heard 
 t!ie servant noisily occupied in the kitchen 
 with her pots and pans. " If my lucky star 
 leads me straight into Miss Bygrave's room," 
 thought the housekeeper, stealing noiselessly 
 np the stairs, "I may find my way to her ward- 
 robe without disturbing anybody." 
 
 Slic tried the door nearest to (he front of 
 the !iou.-e, on the right-hand siih- of the land- 
 ing. Capricious chance had deserted her 
 already. The lock was turned. She tried the 
 door ojiposite, on her left hand. The boots 
 ranged symmetrically in a row, and the razors 
 on thiidr.ssing-tabh'. told her at onee that she 
 had not found the rigiit room yet. She re- 
 turn<'l to the right-hand side of the landing, 
 walked down a little passage leading to the 
 hack of the house, and tri«'d a third door. The 
 door opened, and the two opposite extremes 
 of female humanity, Mrs. Wragge and Mrs. 
 lA'connt, stood face to face in an instant! 
 
 "I U'g ten thousand panhmsl' said i\Irs. 
 I/ceount, with the most consummate self-pos- 
 session. 
 
 " r>ord bless U9 and save us!" cried Mrs. 
 Wraggc, with the most helpless amazement. 
 
 The two exclamations were uttered in a 
 moment, and in that moment Mrs. Lecount 
 
 took the measure of her victim. Nothing of the 
 least importance escaped her. She noticed the 
 Oriental Caslimere Kobe lying haH-madc, and 
 half-unpicked again, on the table ; she noticed 
 the imbt'cile toot of Mrs. Wragge searching 
 blindly in the neighborhood of her chair tor a 
 lost shoe; ^lie noticed that there was a second 
 door in t!ie room besides the door by which 
 she had entere<l, and n second chair within 
 easy reach, on which she might do well to seat ' 
 herself in a friendly and confidential way. 
 '• Pray don't resent my intrusion." pleaded 
 Mrs. Lctount, taking the chair. "Pray allow 
 me to explain myself!" 
 
 Speaking in her softest voice; surveying 
 ]\lrs. Wragge witli a sweet smile on her in- 
 sinuating lips, and a melting interest in her 
 handsome black eyes, the housekeeper told 
 her liule introductory series of falsehoods 
 with an artless truthfulness of manner which 
 the Father (jf Lies himself might have en- 
 vied. She had lioard from Mr. Bygrave that 
 Mrs. Bygrave v.as a great invalid; .she had 
 constantly reproached her.sclt', in her idle half- 
 hours at Sea- View (where slie filled the situ- 
 ation of JMr. Noel Vanstone's housekeeper), 
 for not having offered her friendly services to 
 Mrs. Bygrave ; she had been directed by her 
 master (doubtless well known to Mrs. By- 
 grave as one of her husband's friends, and 
 naturally one of her charming niece's ad- 
 mireis) "to join him that day at the rcsidenco 
 to which lie had removed from Aldl)orongh ; 
 she was obliged to leave early, but she could 
 not reconcile it to her conscience to go with- 
 out calling to apologize for hi i- apparent want 
 of neigldiorly cousitleration ; she had found 
 nobody in the house ; she had not been able 
 to make the servant hear; she had presumed 
 (not discovering tliat apartment down stairs^ 
 that ]\Irs. Bygi-ave's boudoir might be on the 
 upper story ; she had thoughtlessly committed 
 an intrusion of which she was sincerely 
 ashamed, and she could now oidy trust to 
 Mrs. Bygrave's indulgence to excuse and 
 forgive her. 
 
 A less elaborate apology might have served 
 Mrs. Lecounts purpose. As soon as ^Irs. 
 Wragge's struggling perceptions had grasped 
 the fact that her unexpected visitor was a 
 neighbor well known to her by repute, her 
 whole being became absorbed in admiration 
 of Mr.s. Lecounfs lady-like manners, and Mrs. 
 Lecounfs perfectly-fitting gown! " What a 
 noble Avay she. has of talking!" thought poor 
 Mrs. Wr.igge, as the housekeeper reaclh d her 
 closing .«(mtencc. " And, oh my heart alive, 
 how nicely she 's dressed !" 
 
 "I see I disturb you," pursued Mrs. Le- 
 count, artfully availing Ihmsc If of the Oriental 
 Cashmere Rol>c as a means ready at hand of 
 reaching the end she had in view — "I see I 
 disturb you, ma'am, over an occupation which, 
 I know by experience, requires the closest 
 attention. Dear, dear me, you are unpicking 
 the dress again, I see, after it has been made 1 
 
174 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 This is my own experience again, Mrs. By- 
 grave. Some dresses are so obstinate ! Some 
 dresses seem to say to one in so many words, 
 ' No ! you mav do what vou like with me ; I 
 won't fit !' " " 
 
 Mrs. Wragge was greatly struck by this 
 happy rem.ark. She burst out laughing, and 
 clapped her great hands in the highest e.\- 
 citement. 
 
 " That 's what tliis gown has been saying to 
 me ever since I first put the scissors into it,'" 
 she exclaimed, cheerfully. " I know I 've got 
 an awful big back ; but that 's no reason. 
 Why should a gown be weeks on hand, and 
 then not meet behind j'ou after all ? It han<is 
 over my Boasom like a sack — it does. Look 
 here, ma'am, at the skirt. It won't come 
 right. It draggles in front, and cocks up 
 behind. It shows my heels — and. Lord knows, 
 I get into scrapes enough about ray heels 
 without showing them into the bargain !" 
 
 " May I ask a favor ?" inquired Mrs. Le- 
 count, confidentially. "May I try, Mrs. By- 
 grave, if I can make my experience of any 
 use to you ? I think our bosoms, ma'am, are 
 our great difficulty. Now this bosom of yours V 
 Shall I say in jjlain words what *I think ? 
 This bosom of yours is an Enormous Mis- 
 take !" 
 
 " Don't say that !" cried Mrs. Wragge, im- 
 ploringly. " Don't, please, there 's a good 
 soul! It's a deal bigger, I know; but it's 
 modelled, for all that, from one of Magdalen's 
 own." 
 
 She was far too deeply interested on the 
 subject of the dress to notice that she liad 
 forgotten herself already, and that she had 
 referred to Magdalen by her own name. Mrs. 
 Lecount's sharp ears detected the mistake the 
 instant it was committed. " So ! so !" she 
 thought. " One discovery already. If I had 
 ever doubted my own suspicions, here is an 
 estimable lady who would now have set me 
 right. I beg your pardon," she proceeded, 
 aloud, " did you say this was modelled from 
 one of your niece's dresses ?" 
 
 " Yes,"' said Mrs. Wragge. " It 's as like 
 as two peas." 
 
 " Then," replied Mrs. Lecount, adroitly, 
 " there must be some serious mistake in the 
 making of your niece's dress. Can you show 
 it to me?" 
 
 " Bless your heart — yes ! " cried Mrs. 
 Wragge. " Step this way, ma'am, and bring 
 the gown along with you, please. It keeps 
 sliding off, out of pure aggravation, if you lay 
 it on the table. There 's lots of room on the 
 bed in here." 
 
 She opened the door of communication, and 
 led the way eagerly into Magdalen's room. 
 As Mrs. Lecoynt followed she stole a look at 
 her watch. Never before had time flown as 
 it flew that morning ! In twenty minutes 
 more Mr. Bygrave would be back from his 
 bath. 
 
 " There !" said Mrs. Wragge, throwing open 
 
 the wardrobe, and taking a dress down from 
 one of the pegs. " Look there ! There 's 
 plaits on her Boasom, and plaits on mine. 
 Six of one, and half a dozen of the other ; 
 and mine are the biggest — that 's all ! " 
 
 Mfs. Lecount shook her head gravely, and 
 entered forthwith into subtleties of disquisi- 
 tion on the art of dress-making, which had 
 the desired eff'ect of utterly bewildering the 
 proprietor of the Oriental Cashmere Robe in 
 less than three minutes. 
 
 " Don't ! " cried Mrs. ^Vragge, imploringly. 
 "Don't go on like that! I'm miles behind 
 you, and my head 's Buzzing already. Tell 
 us, like a good soul, what 's to be done. You 
 said something about the pattern just now. 
 Perhaps I 'm too big for the pattern '? I can't 
 help it if I am. Many 's the good cry I had, 
 when I was a growing girl, over my own size ! 
 1 here^s half too much of me, ma'am — meas- 
 ure me along or measure me across, I don't 
 deny it — there 's half too much of me, any 
 way." 
 
 " My dear madam," protested Mrs. Lecount, 
 " you do yourself a wrong ! ' Permit me to 
 assure you that you possess a commanding 
 figure — a figure of Minerva. A majestic 
 simplicity in the form of a woman impera- 
 tively demands a majestic simplicity in the 
 form of that woman's dress. Tlie laws of 
 costume are classical ; the laws of costume 
 must not be trifled with ! Plaits for Venus — 
 puffs for Juno — folds for Minerva. I ven- 
 ture to suggest a total change of pattern. 
 Your niece has other dresses in her collec- 
 tion. Why may we not find a Minerva pat- 
 tern among them "/ " 
 
 As she said those words she led the way 
 back to the wardrobe. 
 
 Mrs. Wragge followed, and took the dresses 
 out one by one, shaking her head despond- 
 ently. Silk dresses appeared, muslin dresses 
 appeared. The one dress which remained in- 
 visible was the dress of which Mrs. Lecount 
 was in search. 
 
 " There 's the lot of 'em," said Mrs. Wragge. 
 " They may do for Venus and the two other 
 Ones (I 've seen 'em in picters without a mor- 
 sel of decent linen among the three), but they 
 won't do for Me." 
 
 " Surely there is another dress left ? " said 
 Mrs. Lecount, pointing to the wardrobe, but 
 touching nothing in it. " Surely I see some- 
 thing hanging in the corner behind that dark ' 
 shawl '? " 
 
 Mrs. Wragge removed the shawl ; Mrs. Le- 
 count opened the door of the wardrobe a 
 little wider. There, hitched carelessly on the 
 innei'most peg — there, with its white spots 
 and its double flounce, was the brown Alpaca 
 dress ! 
 
 The suddenness and completeness of the 
 discovery threw the housekeeper, practiced 
 dissembler as she was, completely off her 
 guard. She started at the sight of the dress. 
 The instant afterward her eyes turned uneas- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 175 
 
 ily toward Mrs. Wragge. Had the start been 
 observed ? It Lad passed entirely unnoticed. 
 Mrs. Wragge's wliolc attention was fixed on 
 the Alpaca dress ; she was staring at it incom- 
 prehensibly, with an expression of the utmost 
 dismay. 
 
 " You seem alarmed, ma'am," said Mrs. 
 Lecount. " What is there in the wardrobe 
 to Crighton you ? " 
 
 '• I 'd have given a crown-piece out of my 
 pocket," said Mrs. Wragge, " not to have set 
 eyes on that gown. It had gone clean out 
 of my head, and now it 's come back again. 
 Cover it up!" cried Mrs. Wragge,' throwing 
 the shawl over the dress in a sudden fit of 
 desperation. " If I look at it much longer 
 I shall think I 'm back again in Vauxhall 
 Walk ! " 
 
 Vauxhall Walk ! Those two words told Mrs. 
 Lecount she was on the brink of another dis- 
 covery. She stole a second look at her watch. 
 There was barely ten minutes to s))are before 
 the time when Mr. Bygrave might leturn ; 
 there was not one of those ten minutes which 
 might not bring his niece back to the house. 
 Caution counselled Mrs. Lecount to go. with- 
 out running any more risks. Curiosity rooted 
 her to the spot, and gave her the courage to 
 stay at all hazards until the time was up. Her 
 amiable smil« began to hanlen a little as she 
 probed her way tenderly into Mrs. Wragge's 
 feeble mind. 
 
 " You have some unpleasant remembrances 
 of Vauxhall Walk?"' she said, with the gentlest 
 possible tone of inquiry in her voice. " Or, 
 perhaps, I should say, unpleasant remem- 
 orances of that dresa belonging to your niece ?" 
 
 " The last time I saw her with that gown 
 on," said Mrs. Wragge, drojiping into a chair 
 and beginning to tremble, " was the time 
 when I came back from shopping and saw the 
 Ghost." 
 
 " The Ghost?" repeated Mrs. Lecount, clasp- 
 ing her hands in graceful astonishment. " Dear 
 madam, pardon me ! Is there such a thing in 
 the world? Where did you see it? In Vaux- 
 hall Walk ? Tell me — ^you are the first lady I 
 have ever met with who has seen a Ghost — 
 pray tell me !" 
 
 Flattered by the position of importance 
 which she had suddenly cissumed in the house- 
 keeper'? eyes. Mrs. VVraggc entered at full 
 length into the narrative of her supernatural 
 adventure. The breathless eagerness with 
 which Mrs. Lecount listened to her description 
 of the spectre's costume, the spectre's hurry on 
 the stairs, and tlie spectre's disappearance in 
 the bedroom; the extraordinary interest which 
 Mrs. Lecount displayed on hearing that the 
 dress in the wardrobe was the very dress in 
 which Magdalen hapjjcned to be attired at the 
 awful moment when the ghost vanished, en- 
 t;ourage(l Mrs. Wragge to wade deeper and 
 deeper into details, and to involve herself in a 
 confusion of collateral cir,cun)stanccs out of 
 which tlierc ficemed to be no pro.spect of her 
 
 emerging for hours to come. Faster and faster 
 the ine.xoi'able minutes flew by; nearer and 
 nearer came the fatal moment of Mr. Bygrave's 
 return. Mrs. Lecount looked at her watch for 
 the third time without an attempt, on this 
 occasion, to conceal the ac tion from her com- 
 panion's notice. There was literally twy min- 
 utes left for her to get clear of North Shingles. 
 Two minutes would be enough, if no accident 
 happened. She had discovered the Alpaca 
 dress; she had heard the whole story ot the 
 adventure in Vauxhall Walk ; and,*more than 
 that, she had even informed herself of the num- 
 ber of the house — which Mrs. Wragge happen- 
 ed to remember, because it answered to the 
 number of years in her own age. All that was 
 j necessary to her master's complete enlighten- 
 ' ment she had now accomplished. Even if 
 I there had been time to stay longer, there was 
 ; nothing worth staying for. " I 'II strike this 
 j worthy idiot dumb with a c<nip d'e/a(" thought 
 j the housekeeper, " and vanish before she re- 
 I covers herself." 
 
 > " Horiible !" cried Mrs. Lecount, interrupt- 
 i ing the ghostly narrative by a shrill little 
 1 scream, and making for the door, to Mrs. 
 I Wragge's unutterable astonishment, without 
 1 the least ceremony. " You freeze the very 
 1 marrow of my bones. Good-morning!" She 
 j coolly tossed the Oriental Cashmere Robe into 
 Mrs. Wragge's expansive lap, and left thv; 
 I room in an instant. 
 
 j As she swiftly descended the stairs she heard 
 1 the door of the bedroom open. 
 ' " Where are your manners?" cried a voice 
 from above, hailing hei- feebly oyer the balus- 
 I ters. " What do you mean by pitching my 
 I gown at me in that way? You ought to be 
 ashamed of yourself!" pursued Mrs. Wragge, 
 turning from a lamb to a lioness as she grad- 
 ually realized tiie indignity odcrcd to the 
 ! Cashmere Robe. " You nasty foreigner, you 
 ; ought to be ashamed of yourself!" 
 I Pursued by this valedictory address, Mrs. 
 '. Lecount reached the house-door, and opened 
 it without interruption. She glided rajjidly 
 , along the garden-path, passed through the 
 j gate, and, finding herself .«afe on the Parade, 
 j stopped and looked toward the sea. 
 
 The first object which her eyes encountered 
 ! was the figure of Mr. Bygrave standing motion- 
 j less on the I'cach — a j)ctrificd bather, with his 
 ! towels in his hand ! One glance at him was 
 enough to siiow that he had seen the house- 
 keeper pas.sing out through his garden-gate. 
 
 Rightly conjecturing that Mr. Bygrave's first 
 impulse would lead him to make instant in- 
 quiries in his own house, Mrs. Lecount pursued 
 her way back to Sea-View as composedly as 
 if nothing had happened. When she entered 
 the parlor, where her solitary breakfast was 
 waiting for her, she was surprised to see a letter 
 lying on the table. She approached to take it 
 up with an expression of nnpatiencc, thinking 
 it might be some tradesman's bill which she 
 had forgotten. 
 
176 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 It was the I'brsed letter from ZuriL'h. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The post-mark and the liandwriting; on the 
 address (admirably imitated from the Oii^ina!) 
 warned Mrs. Lecouiit of the contents of tiie 
 hitter before she opened it. 
 
 After waiting a moment to eompose herself 
 she read the announcement of her brothei''s 
 relapse. 
 
 There wa? nothing in the liandwriting, there 
 was no expression in any part of the letter, 
 which could suggest to her mind the faintest 
 susY)icion of foul play. Not the shadow of a 
 doubt occurred to her that the summons to her 
 brother's bedside was genuine. The hand that 
 held the letter dropped heavily into her lap ; 
 she became pale, and old, and haggard in 
 a moment. Thoughts far removed from her 
 present aims and interests, remembrances that 
 carried her back .to other lands than England, 
 to other times than the time. of her life in ser- 
 vice, prolonged their inner shadows to the sur- 
 face, and showed the traces of their nt^s'.erions 
 f)assage darkly on her face. The minutes fol- 
 owed each other, and still the servant below 
 stairs waited vainly lor the ]jarior-bell. The 
 minutes followed each other, and still she sat, 
 tearless and quiet, dead to the present and the 
 future, living iu the past. 
 
 Tlie entrance of the servant, uncalled, 
 roused her. With a heavy sigh the cold and 
 secret woman folded the letter up again, and 
 addressed hoi^elf to the interest and the duties 
 of the passing time. 
 
 She decided the question of going or not 
 going to Zurich after a veiy brief consider- 
 ation of it. ik'fore siie had drawn her chair 
 to tlu; breakfast-table slie had resolved to go. 
 
 Admirably as Captain Wragge's stratagem 
 had worked, it might have failed — unassisted 
 by the occurrence of the morning — to achiev(> 
 this result. The very accident against which 
 it had been the captain's chief anxiety to 
 guard — the accident which had just taken 
 place in spite of him — was, of all the events 
 , that could have happened, the one event 
 whiclrfalsiiied every previous calculation, by 
 directly forwarding the main purpose of the 
 conspiracy ! If Mrs. Lecount had not ob- 
 tained the information of which she was in 
 search' before the receipt of tlie letter from 
 Zurich, the letter might have, addressed her 
 m vain. She would have hesitated before 
 deciding to leave England, and that hesita- 
 tion might have proved fatal to the ♦.•aptain's 
 scheme. 
 
 As it was, Avith tb'i plain proofs in her pos- 
 session — with the gown discovered in Mag- 
 dalen's wardrode ; with the piece cut out of it 
 in her own pocket-book; and with the knowl- 
 edge, obtained from Mrs. Wragge, of the 
 very house in which the disguise had been 
 
 put on — Mrs. Lecount had now at her com- 
 mand the means of warning Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone as she had never been able to warn him, 
 yet; or, in other words, the nu-ans of guard- 
 ing against any dangerous tendencies toward 
 recon<'iliation with the Bygraves, which miglit 
 otherwise have entered his mind during her 
 a"bsence at Zurich. The only difliculry which 
 now perplexed her was the difficulty of de-- 
 ciding whether she should communicate with 
 lier master personally or by writing before her 
 departure from England. 
 
 She looked again at the doctor's letter. 
 The word " instantly" in the sentence which 
 summoned her to her dying brother was twice 
 underlined. Admiral Bartram's house wa.s 
 at some distance from the railway ; the time 
 consumed in driving to St. Crux, and driving 
 back again, might be time fatally lost on the 
 journey to Zurich. Although slie would in- 
 finitely have preferred a personal interview 
 with Mr. Noel Vanstone, there was no choice, 
 on a matter of life and death, but to save the 
 precious hours by writing to him. 
 
 After sending to secure a place at once in 
 the early coach she sat down to write to her 
 ma^ter. 
 
 Her first thought was to tell him all that 
 had happened at North Shingles that morn- 
 ing. On reflection, liowevcr, she rejected the 
 idea. Once already (in copying the personal 
 description from Miss Garth's letter) she had 
 trusted her weapons in her master's hands, 
 a!id I\Ir. Bygrave had contrived to turn them 
 against her. She resolved this time to keep 
 them strietlj^ in her own possession. The se- 
 cret of the missing fragment of the Alpaca 
 dress was known to no living creature but 
 herself; and, until her return to England, she 
 determined to keep it to hersell'. The neces- 
 sary impression might be produced on Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone's mind without venturing into 
 details. She knew by experience the form of 
 letter which might be trusted to produce an 
 ctFect on him, and she now wrote it, in these 
 words: 
 
 "D,:Ar. Mil. Noli, — Sad news has rpached me from Switz- 
 erl;ujil. My beldvod brother is d.vin.s;;, and liia medical 
 attend-.tnt summons me instantly to Zuricli. The serious 
 nocoK.siry of ;t,vailing niysclf of tlie t:;trlic.it means of con- 
 vt-yauce ti) t'lie Continent leaves me liut one alternative. I 
 mnst profit by the permission to leave Kn.nland. if neces- 
 sary, which you kindly granted to me at tlie befrinnitig i»f 
 my I'rother'.^ ilhie.?s; and I must avoid all delay by going 
 s;raiy;lit to London, instead of turnin.a; .aside, as 1 should 
 have liked, to see you first at St. Crux. 
 
 '• I'ainfuUy as 1 am aflectcd by the family calamity whieh 
 has fallen on me. 1 can not let this opportunity pi\as with- 
 out adverting to another sltb.ject, which seriously concerns 
 your welfare, and in whicii ion that account) your old 
 liou.sekeeper feels the deepest interest. 
 
 • 1 am going to surprise and shock yon Jlr. Noel. Pray 
 don't be agitated ! Pray compose yourself ! 
 
 " The impudent attempt to cheat you. which lias happily 
 opened your eyes to the true character of our neighbors at 
 North Shingles, was not the only object which ?.!r. Bygrave 
 had in forcing himself on your acquaintar.ee. The infa- 
 mous conspiracy with which you were threatened in London 
 has been in full progress against you, under Mr. Bygravc'g 
 direction, at Aldborough. Accident — I will tell you what 
 accident when we meet — has put me in poS3essi(m of in- 
 formation precious to your future security. 1 have discov- 
 ered, to au absolute certainty, that the person calling her- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 177 
 
 seir Miss By^avp is no other than the woman wiio visited 
 us in ilingiiise at Viwxliall Wall;, 
 
 •I Biispccted thirt from the first: hut I had no evidence- 
 to support my suspicions: 1 had no means of combating 
 the false impression produced on yon. My hands, 1 thank 
 Heaven are ried no lonsor. I possess absolute pnx.f of the 
 assertion that I Lave jus: made — Jiroof that yonr own eyes 
 can see— proof that wonid satisfy you if you weie.judjce In 
 a Court of Justice. 
 
 • I'erliaps even vot. Mr. Noel you will refuse to believe 
 me? Be it so. llelieve me or not. ] have one l:ist favor 
 to ask which your .Kiiglish sense of fair play will net deny 
 me. 
 
 '•This melancholy jc^in-ney of mine will keep me away 
 from i;ngli'.ii(l for a forlnigiit, or at mo.st for three weeks. 
 Yuu will ubjige mo — ;.;id yon will certainly not sacrifice 
 youi (i>vn convenience and pleasure — by staying through 
 tli:'.t interval with your friends at St. Crux. If before my 
 retiiiu some |Uuexpecte.l circunu«tante throws yon once 
 moie into tiie company of the liy^'raves, and if yonr nat- 
 ural kindness of heart inclines you to receive the excuses 
 which they will in that case certainly address to you, place 
 one trilling restraint on yourself, fn- your own sake, if not 
 for mine. Suspend your fiirtatinn wilh the young lady (I 
 bug pardon of all other young holies for calling her soil 
 until my return. If when 1 come bar!;. I fail to prove 
 to you that Miss Bygiave is the woman who wore thai 
 disguise, and used those tiireatening words in Vauxhall 
 Walk. I will engage to leave yonr service at a days no- 
 tice ; :ind I will :itone for the sin of bearing false witness 
 against my neighbor by resigning every claim I have to 
 your grateful rennmbrancc. on your latber"s account as 
 well as on yonr own. I make tli.s engagement without 
 reserve of any kin-1: and I piomise to abide by it. if my 
 proofs fail, on the I'aith of a good Catholic ami the word of 
 an honest woman. 
 
 '■Your faithful servant. 
 
 '•ViRnlNTn T.ECOCNT." 
 
 i 
 Tlie closing sf ntences of tlii,'! lotter — as the ! 
 hou.'^ckoopfr well know wIhmi she M'rote them j 
 — c'lubodiL'd the ono appeal to ilr. Noel Van- j 
 stone wliieh t'oultl be eertainly trusted to pro- I 
 duci" a deep and lastinj; eirert. JSlie mijxht i 
 liavo ;<taked lier oath, her lite, or her re[)ii- | 
 tation on proviiig the assertion whieh she iiad 
 made, and have I'ailetl to leave a permanent 
 impression on his mind. But when she slaked 
 not only her po.-:ition in iiis .service, but her 
 pecuniary claims on him as well, she at once 
 absorbed the ruling passion of his lite in ex- 
 pectation of the result. Tiiere was not a doubt 
 of it; in tlie stronixest of all his interests — the 
 interest of savinc: his money — he woukl wait. 
 " Checkmate for Mr. Byoravi> !" thought 
 ]\Irs. L'jcount, as she sealed and directed the 
 letter. "The battle is over — the game is 
 played out." 
 
 While Mrs. Lecount was providing for her 
 master's future security at Sea- View events 
 were in fidl progress at North Shingles. 
 
 As soon as ('aptain Wraggir recovered his 
 astonishment at the housekeeper's appearance 
 on his own premises lie hurried into the house, 
 and, guided by his own forebodings of the dis- 
 aster that had happened, made straight for liis 
 wife's room. 
 
 Never, in all her former experience, had 
 poor Mrs. Wragge felt the full weight of the 
 captain's indignation as she felt it now. All 
 the little inteliigtMice she natui'ally possessed 
 vanished at once in the whirlwind of her hus- 
 band's rage. Thi* only plain facts which he 
 could extract from her were two in number. 
 In the first place, Magdalen's rash desertion 
 of her post proved to liave no better reason 
 2* 
 
 to excuse it than Magdalen's incorrigible im- 
 patience : she had passed a .''leepless night ; 
 she had risen feverish and wretched ; and she 
 had gone out, reckless of all consequences, to 
 cool her burning head in the fresh air. In 
 the second place, Mrs. Wragge had, on her 
 own confession, seen Mrs. Lecount, had talked 
 witli Mrs. Lecount, and had ended by telling 
 Mrs. Lecount the story of the ghost. Having 
 made these discoveries, Captain Wragge wash- 
 ed no more time in contending with his wife's 
 terror and confusion. He withdrew at once 
 to a window which commanded an uninter- 
 rupted prospect of Mr. Noel Vanstone's house, 
 and there established him.self on the watch for 
 events at Sea- View, precisely as Mrs. Le- 
 count had eslal)lislicd herself on the watch for 
 events at North Shingles. 
 
 Not a word of comment on the disaster of 
 the morning escaped him when Magdalen re- 
 turned and found him at his post. His flow 
 of language seemed at last to have run dry. 
 " I told you what Mrs. Wragge woidd do," he 
 said; "and Mrs. AWagge has done it." He 
 sat unflinchingly at the window, with a pa- 
 tience which iNIrs. Lecount herself could not 
 have surpassed. The one active proceeding 
 in which he seemed to tiiink it necessary to 
 engage was performed by deputy. He sent 
 the servant to the inn to hire a chaise and 
 a fast horse, and to say that he would call 
 himself before noon that day and tell the 
 liostler when the vehicle would be wanted. 
 Not a sign of impatience escaped him until 
 the timeiirew near for the departure of the 
 early coach. Then the captain's curly lips 
 began to twitch with anxiety, and the cap- 
 tain's restless fingers beat the devil's tattoo 
 unintcrmittingly on the window-pane. 
 
 The rumbling wheels were heard at last, 
 the coach drew up at Sea-View, and Captain 
 Wraage's own observation informed him that 
 one among the passeuixers who left Aldbor- 
 ough that morning was Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 The main uncertainty disposed of, a serious 
 question — suggested by tlie events of the 
 morning — still remained to be solved. Which 
 was the destined end of Mrs. Lecounfs jour- 
 ney — Zurich or St. Crux ? That she would 
 certaiwly inform her master of Mrs. Wragge's 
 crhost storv. and of every other disclosure in 
 relation to iianies and places which might 
 have escajied Mrs. Wragge's lips, was beyond 
 all doubt. But of the two ways at her dis- 
 posal of doing tin- mischief— either person- 
 ally or by letter — it was vitally impoi-tant to 
 the captain to know which she had chosen. 
 If she had gone to the admiral's, no choice 
 would be left him but to follow the coach, to 
 caich the train by which she travelled, and 
 outstrip her afterward on the drive from the 
 station in Essex to St. Crux. If, on the con- 
 trarv. she liad been contented with writing to 
 her master, it would only be necessary to de- 
 vise measures for intercepting the letter. The 
 captain decided on going to the j>ost-ofHce in 
 
17S 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 the first place. Assuming that the house- 
 keeper had written, she would not have left 
 the letter at the mercy of the servant — she 
 would have seen it safely in the letter-box 
 befoi'e leaving Aldborough. 
 . " Good-morning," said the captain, cheer- 
 fully addressing the postmaster. "I am Wr. 
 Bygrave, of North Shingles. J think you 
 have a letter in the box addressed to Mr. 
 ? ' 
 
 The postmaster was a short man, and con- 
 sequently a man with a proper idea of his 
 own importance. He solemnly checked Caji- 
 tain AVragge in full career. 
 
 " When a letter is once posted, Sir," he 
 said, " nobodj' out of the office has any busi- 
 ness with it until it reaches its address." 
 
 The captain was not a man to be daunted, 
 even b}- a postmaster. A bi-ight idea struck 
 Lim. He took out his pocket-book, in which 
 Admiral Bartiam's address was written, and 
 returned to the charge. 
 
 " Suppose a letter has been wrongly direct- 
 ed by mistake y " he began. "And suppose 
 the writer wants to correct the error after the 
 letter is put in the Ijox V " 
 
 "AVheu a letter is once posted, Sir," reiter- 
 ated the impenetrable local authority, '• no- 
 body out of the office touches it on any pre- 
 tense whatever." 
 
 " Granted with all my heart," persisted the 
 captain. " I don't want to touch it — I only 
 want to explain myself. A lady has posted a 
 letter here addressed to ' Noel Vanstone, Es(}., 
 Admiral Bartram's, St. Crux-in-tlie-Marsli, 
 Esse.x.' She wrote in a great hurrj', and she 
 is not quite certain whether sJie added the 
 name of the post-town, ' Ossory.' Jt is of the 
 last importance that the delivery of the letter 
 should not be delayed. What is to hinder 
 your facilitating the post-office work, and 
 obliging a lady, by adding the name of the 
 post-town (if it ha])pens to be left out) with 
 your own hand ? J put it to you as a zealous 
 oifiecr — what possible objection can there be 
 to granting my recjuest '? " 
 
 The postmaster was compelled to acknowl- 
 edge that there could be no objection, provid- 
 ed nothing but a necessary line was added to 
 the address; provided nobody touched the 
 letter but liimself ; and provided the precious 
 time of the post-office was not suffered to run 
 to waste. As there hap[)ened to be nothing 
 particular to do at that moment, he would 
 readily oblige the lady at Mr. Bygrave's re- 
 quest. * 
 
 Captain Wragge watched ther postmaster's 
 hands, as they sorted the letters in the box, 
 with breathless eagerness. AVas the letter 
 there ? Would the hands of the zealous pub- 
 lie sei-A-ant suddenly stop ? Yes ! They stop- 
 ped, and picked a letter out from the rest. 
 
 "'Noel Vanstone, Esq.,' did you say?" 
 asked tlie postmaster, keeping the letter in 
 Lis own hand. 
 
 " ' Noel Vaustoue, Esq.,' " replied the cap- 
 
 tain, " ' Admiral Bartram's. St. Crux-in-the- 
 Marsh.'" 
 
 " ' Ossory, Essex.' " chimed in the postmas- 
 ter, throwing the letter back into the box. 
 " The lady has made no mistake. Sir. The 
 address is quite right." 
 
 Nothing but a timely consideration of the 
 heavy debt he owed to appearances juevent- 
 ed Captain AVragge fiom throwing his tall 
 white hat up into the air as soon as he found 
 himself in the street once more. All further 
 doubt was now at an end. Mrs. Lecount had 
 written to her master, therefore Mrs. Lecount 
 was on her way to Zurich ! 
 
 AVith his head higher than ever, with the 
 tails of his respectable frock-coat floating be- 
 hind him in the breeze, with his bosom's 
 native impudence sitting lightly on its throne, 
 the captain strutted to the inn and called for 
 the railway time-table. After making certain 
 calculations (in black and white, as a matter 
 of course), he ordered the chaise to be ready 
 in an hour, so as to reach the railway in time 
 for the second ti-ain running to London, with 
 which there happened to be no communica- 
 tion from Aldborougii by coach. 
 
 His next proceeding was of a far moi'e 
 serious kind ; his ne^t proceeding implied a 
 terrible certainty of success. -- The day of the 
 week was Thursday. From the inn he went 
 to the church, saw the clerk, and gave the 
 necessary notice for a marriage by license on 
 the ibllowing Monday. 
 
 Bold as he was> his nerves were a littli'. 
 shaken by this last achievement ; his hand 
 trembled as it lifted the latch of the garden- 
 gate. He doctored his nerves with brandy 
 and water before he sent for ]\Iagdalen to in- 
 form her of the proceedings of the morning. 
 Another outbreak might reasomibly be ex- 
 pected when she heard that the last irrevoca- 
 ble step had been taken, and that notice had 
 been given of the wedding-day. 
 
 The captain's watch Avarned him to lose no 
 time in emptying his glass. Li a few minutes 
 he sent the necessary message up stairs. 
 AVhile waiting for IMagdalen's appearance he 
 provided himself with certain materials which 
 were now necessary to carry the conspiracy 
 to its crowning point. In the first place, he 
 wrote his assumed name (by no means in so 
 fine a hand as usual) on a blank visiting-card, 
 and added, underneath, these words : •' Not a 
 moment is to be lost. I am waiting for you 
 at the door — come down to me directly." 
 His ne.xt proceeding was to take some half- 
 dozen envelopes out of the case, and to direct 
 tiiem all alike to the following address: 
 " Thomas Bygrave, Esq., Mussared's Hotel, 
 Salisbury Street, Strand, London." After 
 carefully placing the envelopes and the -card 
 in his breast-pocket he shut up the desk. As 
 he rose from the writing-table Magdalen came 
 into the room. 
 
 The captain took a moment to decide on 
 the best method of opening the interview ; 
 
NO NA^fF. 
 
 175 
 
 and determined, in his own plira^c, to dash at | word ! Shall I tear the envelopes up, or shall 
 it. In two words hilk)ld Magdalen what had , I put them back in my pocket V" 
 happened, and inlbrmed her that Monday was Tliere was a panse of dead silenee. The 
 to be her weddlntj-day. murmur of the summer waves on tlie shinnflo 
 
 lie was prepnred to quiet her if she burst of the beach, and the voices of the summer 
 into a frenzy of passion ; to reason with her , idlers on the Parade, floated throucrh the open 
 if she beorged for time ; to sympathize with I window and filled the empty stillness of the 
 her if she melted into tears. To his inex- i room. 
 
 pressible sur[)rlse results falsified all his cal- j She raised her head: she lifted her hand and 
 culations. .She heanl him without uttering a | pointed steadily to tlie envelopes. 
 
 word, without shedding a tear. When lie 
 had done she dropped into a chair. Her 
 lar'Te urav eves sthred at him vacantly. In 
 one mvsterious instant all her beauty !et"t her; 
 her face stifi'ened awfully, like the face of a 
 corpse. For the first time in the captain's 
 experience of her, fear — all-mastering fear — 
 hud taken possession of her, body and soul. 
 " You arc nbt flinching ? " he said, trving 
 
 Put them back,'" she said. 
 
 " Do you mean it ?" he asked. 
 
 " I mean it." 
 
 As she gave that answer there was a sound 
 of wheels on the road outside. 
 
 ''You hear those wheels?' said Captain 
 Wragg(!. 
 
 " 1 hear thom." 
 
 " Y'ou see the chaise ?"' said the captain, 
 
 to rouse her. " Surely you are not flinching ' pointing througii the window, as the chaise 
 
 which had been ordered from the inn made its 
 appearance at the garden-gate. 
 
 " I see it." 
 
 " And of }Our own free-will you tell me to 
 go ?" 
 
 •' Yes. Go !" 
 
 Without another word he left her. Ti;e 
 servant was waiting at the door with his 
 travelling-ba^. "Miss Bygrave is not well," 
 he said. " Tell your mistress to go to her in 
 the parlor." 
 
 He stepped into the gig ai*l started on the 
 first stage of the journev to St. Crux. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 at the last moment." 
 
 No light of intelligence came into her eyes; 
 no change passed over her face. But she 
 heard him, tor she moved a little in the chair 
 and slowly shook her head. 
 
 " You planned tiiis marriage of your own 
 ^"ee-will," ])ursue(l the captain, with the fur- 
 tive look and the faltering voice of a man ill 
 at ease. '' It was your own idea, not mine. I 
 won't have the respousibility laid on my shoul- 
 ders — no ! not tor twice two hundred pounds. 
 If your resolution fails you, if you think bet- 
 ter" of it — ? " 
 
 He stopped. Her face was changing; her 
 lips were moving at last. She slowly raised 
 her left hand, with the fingers outspread — 
 she looked at it as if it was a hand that was 
 strange to her — she counted the days on it — 
 the days before the marriage. * | Toward three o'clock that afternoon Cap- 
 
 " Friday, one," she whispered to herself: i tain Wragge stopped at the nearest station to 
 " Saturday, two ; Sunday, three ; Monday — " 1 Ossory which the railway passed in its course 
 Her hands dropped into her lap; her face | through Essex. Incpiiries made on the spot 
 stifTcnc^d again. The deadly fear fastened its | informed him that he might drive to St. Crux, 
 paralyzing hold on her once more, and the , remain there for a quarter of an hour, and re- 
 next words died away on her lips. I turn to the stati(|n in time for an evening train , 
 
 Captain Wragge took out his handkerchief i to London. In ten minutes more the captain 
 and wiped his forehead. was on the road again, driving rapidly in the 
 
 " Damn the two hundred pounds!" he said, direction of the coast. 
 " Two thou«and wouldn't pay me for this I" After proceeding some miles on the highway, 
 
 He went back to the writing-table, took the the cari-ia<re turned off, and the coachman in- 
 envelo])es which he had addressed to himself ! volved himself in an intricate net -work of 
 out of his pocket, and returned to the chair in j cross-roads. • 
 
 which she was sittiu;3, with the envelopes in his ! " Are we far from St. Crux?" asked the cap- 
 hand. I tain, growing impatient, after mile on mile had 
 
 " Kouse yourself," he said; "I have a last! been passecl, without a sign of reaching the 
 word to say to you. Can ymi listen ?" jouniev's end. 
 
 She struggled and roused herself — a faint I " You 11 ^ee the house. Sir, at the next turn 
 tinge of color stole over her Avhite cheeks — she I in the road," said the man. 
 bowed her head. I The next turn in the road brought them 
 
 " Look at these," pursued Captain Wragge, within view of the open country again. Ahead 
 flolding up the envelopes. "If I turn these to 6f the carriage Captain Wragge saw a long 
 the use for which they have been written, !Mrs. i dark line against the sky — the line of the sea- 
 Lecount's master wiil never receive Mrs. Le- i wall which protects the low coast of Esee.x 
 count's letter. If I tear them u]>, he will know from inundation. The flat intermediate coun- 
 by to-morrow's post that you are the woman 1 try was intersected by a labyrinth of tidal 
 who visited him in Vauxhall Walk. Say the ■ streams, winding up from the invisible soa in^ 
 
ISO 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 strange fantastic curves — rivers at liiijh water, 
 and channels of mud at low.. On his right 
 hand was a quaint little village, mostly com- 
 posed of wooden liouses, straggling down to 
 the brink of one of the tidal streams. On his 
 left hand, farther away, rose the gloomy ruins 
 of an Abbey, with a long, low, desolate pile of 
 building, of vast extent and great age, at- 
 tached to it. One of the streams from the sea 
 (called in Essex "backwaters") curled alm.ost 
 entirely round the house. Another, from an 
 opposite quarter, appeared to run straight 
 through the grounds, and to separate one side 
 of the sliapeiess mass of buildings, which was 
 in moderate repair, from another, whi{di was 
 little better than a ruin. Bridges of wood and 
 bridges of brick crossed the stream, and gave 
 access to the house from all points of the com- 
 pass. No human creature appeared in the 
 neiidiborhood, and no sound was heard but the 
 hoarse barking of a house-dog from an in- 
 visible court-yard. 
 
 "Which door shall I drive to. Sir?" asked 
 the coachman; " the front or the back ?" ' 
 
 " The back," said Captain Wragge, feeling 
 that the less notice he attracted in Ins present 
 position the safer that position might be. 
 
 The carnage tv>'ice crossed the stream be- 
 fore the coachman made his way through the 
 grounds into a dreary inclosure of stone. At 
 an open door on the inhabited side of the 
 5)lace sat a weatiier-beaten old man-servant, 
 busily at work on a halt-finished model of a 
 sliip. He rose and came to the carriage-door, 
 lilting up his spectacles on his forehead, and 
 looking disconcerted at the appearance of a 
 stranger. , 
 
 " Is Mr. Noel Vanstone staying here V" 
 asked Captain Wragge. 
 
 " Yes, Sir," rej)lied the old man. " Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone came yesterday." 
 
 " Take that card to Mr. Vanstone, if you 
 please," said the captain ; " and say I am wait- 
 ing here to see him." 
 
 In a few minutes Mr. Noe]g^^anstone made 
 his appearance, breathless and eager, absorbed 
 in anxiety for news from Aldborougli. Cap- 
 tain Wragge opened the carriage-door, seized 
 his outstretched hand, and pulled him in with- 
 out ceremony. _., 
 
 " Your housekeeper has gone," whispered 
 *he captain. " and you are to be married on 
 Monday. Don't agitate yourself, and don't 
 express your feelings* — there isn't time for it, 
 (iet the first active servant you can find in 
 the house to pack your ba<^ in ten minutes, 
 take leave of the admiral, and come l)ack 
 at once with me to the London train." 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone faintly attempted to 
 a>k a question. The captain declined to 
 hear it. 
 
 " As much talk as you like on the road," he 
 said. " Time i.«i too precious for talking here. 
 How do we know Lecount may not think 
 better of it ? IJov/ do we know she may not 
 tmn back before she acts to Zurich V" 
 
 That startling consideration terrified Mr. 
 
 Noel Vanstone into instl^ submission. 
 
 " What shall I say to tiie admiral ?" he 
 asked, he'plessly. 
 
 " Tell him you are going to be married, 
 
 to be sure ! What does it matter now Le- 
 
 connt's back is turned"? If he wonders you 
 
 didn't tell him before, say it 's a runaway 
 
 match, and the bride is waiting for you. Stop! 
 
 Any letters addressed to you in your absence 
 
 will be sent to this place, of course ? Give 
 
 the admiral these envelopes, and tell him to 
 
 forward your letters under cover to me. I 
 
 am an old customer at the hotel we are going 
 
 ; to, and if Ave find the place full the landlord 
 
 ! may be depended on to take care of any let- 
 
 j t'ers with my name on them. A safe address 
 
 [ in London lor your correspondence may be of 
 
 I the greatest importance. How do we know 
 
 Lecount ma}' not write to you on her way to 
 
 Zurich ?" 
 
 i " What a head you have got !" cried Mr. 
 
 t Noel Vanstone, eagerly taking the envt-lopes. 
 
 I " You think of everything." 
 
 I He left the carriage in high e.xcitement, 
 
 and ran back into the liouse. In ten minutes 
 
 ! more Captain Wragge had him in safe cus- 
 
 i tody, and the horses started on their return 
 
 ! journey. 
 
 The travellers reached London in good time 
 ' that evening, and found accommodation at the 
 , hot'.d. 
 
 i Knowing the restless, inquisitive nature of 
 j the man he had to deal with, Captain Wragge " 
 ! had anticipated some little difficulty and em- 
 : barrassment in meeting the questions which 
 I Mr. Noel Vanstone might put to him on the 
 i way to London. To his great relief, a star- 
 i tling domestic discovery absorbed his travelling 
 ' companion's whole attention at tiie outset of 
 1 the journey. By some extraordinary over- 
 \ sight. Miss Bygrave had been left, on the 
 ■ eve of her marriage, unprovided with a maid! 
 ! Mr. Noel Vanstone declared that he would 
 ! take the whole responsibility of correcting 
 I this deficiency in the arrangements on his 
 , own shoulders: he would not trouble Mr. 
 ' Bygrave to give him any assistance; he would 
 ; confer, when they got to their journey's end, 
 with the landlady of the hotel, and would 
 examine the candidates for the vacant office 
 himself. All tlie wa,y to London he returned 
 , again and again to tiie sanie subject; all the 
 evening, at the hotel, he was in and out of the 
 landlady's sitting-room, until he fairly obliged 
 I her to lock the door. In every otlier proceed- 
 \ ing which related to his marriage he had been 
 I kept in the background; he had been com- 
 ; pelled to follow in the footsteps of his ingen- 
 1 ions friend. In the matter of the lady'* 
 : maid he claimed his fitting position at last — 
 1 he followed nobody ; he took the lead ! 
 
 I'he forenoon of the ne.xt day was devoted 
 
 to obtaining the license — the personal dis- 
 
 ' tinction of makiuii the declaration on oath 
 
NO :n"ame. 
 
 181 
 
 being eagerly accepted by Mr. Noel Vanstone, 
 who swore in perfect good faitli (on information 
 previously obtained from the captain) that llie 
 lady was of age. The document procured, the 
 bridegroom returned to examine the characters 
 and qualifications of the women-servants out 
 of place whom the landlady had engaged to 
 summon to the hotel; -while Caplain \Vragge 
 turned his steps " on business personal to him- 
 seh'," toward tlie resi<lcncc of a I'riend in a dis- 
 tant quarter of London. 
 
 The captain's fi irnd was connected with the 
 law, and tlie captain's business was of a two- 
 Ibld nature. His first object was to inform 
 himself of the legal bearings of the approach- 
 ing marriage on the future of the husband and 
 the wife. His second object was to provide 
 beforehand for destroying all traces of the 
 di'stination to whicli he might betake himself 
 when he left Aldborough on the wedding-day. 
 Ha\ing reached his end successfully in both 
 these eases lie returned to the hotel, ami found 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone nursing his otl'cnded dig- 
 nity in the laiii]lady"s sitting-room. Three 
 ladies'-maids luid ap[)eared to pass tlieir ex- 
 amination, and had all, on coming to the ijues- 
 tion of wages, impudently declined accepting 
 the place. A fourth candidate was expected 
 to present herself on tiie next day ; and, until 
 she made her appearance, Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 positively declined removing from the metroj)- 
 olis. Captain Wragge showed liis annoyance 
 openly at the inineeessarv ilclay thus occasion- 
 ed in the return to Aldborough, imt witiiout 
 producing any eflect. Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 shook his obstinate little head, and solemnly 
 refused to tritle with his responsibilities. 
 
 Tlie first event which occurred on S.-iturday 
 morning was the arrival of Airs. Lecount's 
 letter to her master, inclosed in one of the 
 i-nvelopes which the captain had addressed to 
 himself. He rei-eived it (by previous arrange- 
 ment with the waiter) in iiis bedroom, read it 
 with the closest attention, and jiut it away 
 carefully in his pocket-book. Tiie letter was j 
 ominous of sci-ious events to come when the i 
 housekeeper returned to England, and it was 
 due to Magdalen — who was the person threat- ! 
 ened — to place the warning of danger in her ! 
 own possession. 
 
 I.,ater in the day the fourth candidate ap- ' 
 peared for the maid's situation — a young i 
 woman of small ex])ectations and subdued 
 manners, who looked (as the landlady i-e- 
 marked) like a i)erson conversant with mis- 
 fortunes. She passed the ordeal of examination 
 successfully, and aceeiited the wages oll'ered 
 without a murmur. The engagement having 
 been ratificii on both sides, fresh delays ensued', : 
 of wiiich I\Ir. Noel Vanstone was once more ■ 
 llie c^use. He had not yet made up his mind i 
 whether he would or would not give more than 
 a guinea for the wedding-ring; and he wasted 
 tlie rest of the day to such disastrous purpose, 
 in one jeweller's shop after another, tliat he 
 and the captain, and the new lady's-maid (who | 
 
 travelled with them), were barely in time to 
 catch the- last train from London that evening. 
 It was late at night when they left the rail- 
 way at the nearest station to Aldborough. 
 Captain Wragge had been strangely silent all 
 througli the vjurney. His mind was ill at ease. 
 He had left Magdalen under very critical cir- 
 cumstances, with no fit pei-son to control her, 
 and he was wholly ignorant of the jirogress of 
 events, in his absence, ac North Shingles. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 What had happened at Aldborough in Cap- 
 tain W'ragge's absen(;e V 
 
 These were the events that occurred IVonj 
 the time of liis departure to the time of his 
 return : 
 
 As soon as the chaise liad left North Shingles 
 j\Irs. A\'ragg»^ received the message which her 
 husband iiad charged the servant to deliver. 
 She hastened into the parlor bewildered by her 
 stormy interview with the captain, and peni- 
 tently conscious that she had done Avrong, witii- 
 out knowing what the wrong was. If Jlagda- 
 len's mind had been unoccupied by the one 
 idea of t!ie marriage which now filled it — if she 
 had possessed composui'C enough to listen to 
 Mrs. Wragge's rambling narrative of what had 
 happened (hiring her interview with the house- 
 keeper — Mrs. Lecount's visit to the wardrobe 
 must, sooner or later, have ibrmed ]iart of the 
 disclosure; and Magdalen, although she might 
 never ha\e guessed the truth, must at least 
 have been warned that there was some element 
 of danger lurking treacherously in the Alpaca 
 dress. As it was, lio such consequence as this 
 followed ]Mrs. W'ragge's appearance in the par- 
 lor; for no such consequence was now possible. 
 
 Events which had hap])cncd earlier in the 
 morning, events wliich had happened for days 
 and weeks past, had vanislied as completely 
 from ]\Iagdalen*s mind as if they had never 
 taken place. The horror of the coming Mon- 
 day — the mei'ciless certainty implied in the 
 a])pointment of the day and hour — petrified 
 ail feeling in lier, and annihilated all thought. 
 Mrs. Wragge made three separate attempts to 
 enter on the subject of the housekeeper's visit. 
 The first time slie might as well h.-^ve addressed 
 herself to the wind or to the sea. The second 
 attempt seemed lik<dy to l>e more successful. 
 Magdalen sighed, listened for a moment in- 
 dilVerently, and then dismissed tlie subject. 
 " It doesn't matter," she said. " The end has 
 come all the same. I 'm not angry with you. 
 Say no more." Later in the day, from not 
 knowing what else to talk about, j\lrs. \^'ragge 
 tried again. This time Magdalen turned on 
 her impatiently. " For God's sake, don't worry 
 me ai)out trifles I I can't beai- it." Mrs. 
 \\'ragge closed her lips on the spot, and re- 
 turned to tiie suiiject no more. Magdalen, 
 who had been kind to her at all other times. 
 
182 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 had angrily forbidtkni it. Tlie oaptain — utter- 
 ly ifrnoraut of Mrs. Lecount's interest in tlic 
 secrets of the wai-drobe — had never so niucli 
 as apprnaehed it. All the information that he 
 had extracted from his wife's mental confusion 
 he had extracted by putting dii-ect questions 
 derived purely from tlie resources of his own 
 knowieilge. He had insisted on plain answers, 
 without excuses of any kind; he had carried 
 his point as usual; and his departure the same 
 morninix l:;id left him no chance of reopenin<T 
 the question, even if his irritation asxainst his 
 wife had peimitted him to do so. There tlic 
 Alpaca dress hung, neglected i^n the dark — the 
 unnoticed, unsuspected centre of dfingers that 
 were still to come. 
 
 Toward the afternoon ]\Irs. Wragge took 
 courage to start a suggestion of her own — 
 she pleadi'd for a little turn in the fresh 
 air. 
 
 Magdalen passively put on her hat ; pas- 
 sively accompanied her companion along the 
 public walk, until they reached its northward 
 extremity. Here the beach was left solitary, 
 and here they sat down side by side on the 
 shingle. It was a bright, exhilarating dav: 
 pleasure-boats were sailing on the calm blue 
 water; Aldborough was idling happily afloat 
 and ashore. Mrs. Wragge recovered her j 
 spirits in the gayety of the prospect; she 
 amused herself like a child by tossing peb- 
 bles into the sea. From time to time she 
 stole a questionitig glance at Magdalen, and 
 saw no encouragement in her manner, no 
 change to cordiality in her face. She sat 
 silent on the slope of the shingle, with her 
 elbow on her knee, and her head resting on 
 her hand, looking out over the sea — looking 
 with a rapt attention, and yet with eyes that 
 seemed to notice nothing. Mrs. AVragge wea- 
 ried of the ])ebbles, and lost her interest in 
 looking at the pleasure-boats. Her great 
 liead began to nod heavily, and she dozed in 
 the warm, drowsy air. When she woke the 
 pleasure-boats Avere far off, their sails were 
 white specks in the distance. The idlers on 
 the beach were thinned in number; the sun 
 was low in the hoavun ; the blue sea was 
 darker, and rippled by a breeze. Changes 
 on sky, and earth, and ocean told of the 
 waning day : change was everywhere, ex- 
 cept close at her side. There Magdalen sat 
 in the same ])Osition, v.'ith weary eyes that 
 still looked over the sea, and still saw noth- 
 ing, 
 
 " Oh, do speak to me ! " said Mrs. Wragge. 
 
 Magdalen started, and looked about her 
 vacantly. 
 
 '' It 's late," she said, shivering under the 
 first sensation that reached her of the rising 
 breeze. " Come home — you want your tea." 
 
 They walked home in silence. 
 
 " Don't he angry with me for asking," said 
 Mrs. Wiagge, as they sat together at the tea- 
 table. " Are you troubled, my dear, in your 
 mind ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Magdalen. " Don't'notice 
 me. My trouble will soan be over." 
 
 She waited patiently until Mrs. Wragge 
 had made an end of the meal, and then went 
 up stairs to her own room. 
 
 " jNIonday ! " .she said, as she sat down at 
 her toilet-table. " Something may happen 
 before Monday comes." 
 
 Her lingers Avandered mechanically among 
 the brushes and combs, the tiny bottles and 
 cases placed on the table. She set them in 
 order, now in one way and now in another 
 — then on a sudden pushed them away from 
 her in a heap. For a minute or two her 
 hands remained idle. That interval passed 
 they grew restless again, and pulled the two 
 little drawers in the table backward and for- 
 ward in their grooves. Among the trifles 
 laid in one of them was a Prayer-book which 
 had belonged to her at Combe-Raven, and 
 which she had saved with her other relics of 
 the past when she and her sister had taken 
 their farewell of home. She opened the 
 Prayer-book, after a long hesitation, at the 
 Marriage Service, shut it again before she 
 had read a 'line, and put it back hurriedly 
 in one of the drawers. After turning the 
 key in the lock she rose and walked to the 
 window. 
 
 '• The^iorribie sea ! " she said, turning from 
 it with a shudder of disgust. " The lonely, 
 dreary, -horrible sea ! " 
 
 She went back to the drawer and took the 
 Prayer-book out for the second time, half- 
 opened it again at the Marriage Service, and 
 impatiently threw it back into the drawer. 
 Tiiis time, after turning the lock, she took the 
 key away, walked with it in her hand to the 
 open window, and threw it violently from her 
 into the garden. It fell on a bed thickly 
 planted with flowers. It was invisible: it 
 was lost. The sense of its loss seemed to 
 relieve her. v 
 
 " Something may happen on Friday ; some- 
 thing may hap'pen on Saturday ; something 
 may happen on Sunday. Three days still ! " 
 
 She closed the green shutters outside the 
 window, and drew the curtains, to darken the 
 room still more. Her head felt heavy ; her 
 eyes were burning hot. She threw herself 
 on her bed, with a sullen impulse to sleep 
 away the time. 
 
 The quiet of the house helped her ; the 
 darkness of the room lielped her : the stupor 
 of mind into which she had fallen had its 
 effect on her senses: she dropped into a 
 broken sleej). Her restless hands moved in- 
 cessantly ; her head tossed from side to side 
 of the pillow ; but still she slept. Ere long 
 words fell by ones and t.wos from her lips — 
 words whispered in her sleep, growing more 
 and more continuous, more and more articu- 
 late, the longer the sleep lasted — words which 
 seemed to calm her restlessness and to hush 
 her into deeper repo.?e. She smiled ; she was 
 in the happy land of dreams — Frank's nams 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 183 
 
 escaped ber. "Do you love mc, Frank?" 
 she whispered. " Oh, my darling, say it | 
 again ! say it again ! " \ 
 
 "The time j)a!<seil, the room grew darker, 
 and still she slumbered and dreamed. Tovv-^ 
 ard sunset — witliout any noise inside the 
 house or oirt to account lor it — she started 
 up on the bed, awake agaiu in an instant. 
 Tlie drowsy obscurity of the room struck her 
 with terror. She ran to the window, pushed ' 
 open the shutters, and leaned tar out into the 
 evening air and the evening liglit. ller eyes 
 devoured the trivial sights on the beach; her | 
 cars drank in tlie welcome murmur of the sea. | 
 Anytliing to deliver her from tlie waking im- ] 
 prcssions which her dieams had left ! No more I 
 darkness; no more rei)ose. Sleep that came 
 mercil'ully to others came treacherously to | 
 her. Sleep had only closed her eyes on the 
 futurd to open them on tlie past. 
 
 She went down again into the parlor eager ' 
 to talk — no matter how idly, no matter on j 
 what trilles. Tiie room wa.s empty. Per- ' 
 Imps Mrs. Wragge liail gone to lier work ; | 
 j)erhaps she was too tired to talk. Magdalen j 
 took her liat from tiie table and went out. ' 
 The 8ea tliat she had shrunk from a few hours 
 since looked Iriondly now. How lovely it 
 was in its cool evening blue ! What a god- 
 like joy in the ha])py nmltitude of waves leap- 
 ing uj) to the light ot heaven ! 
 
 She staid out until the night fell and the 
 stars appeared. The night steadied her. 
 
 By slow degrees her mind rei-overed its 
 balance, and she Jucked her ])osition untlinch- 
 ingly in the face. The vain hojie tiiat acci- 
 dent might defeat tlie very end lor which of 
 her own I'ree-will she had ceaselessly ])lotted 
 and toiled vanished and left her, selt-dissi- 
 pated in its own weakne!^s. She knev/ the 
 true alternative, and faced it. On one side 
 was the revolting ordeal of the marriage ; on 
 ilie other the abandonment of her purjwse. 
 Was it too late to choose bet wein the sacrifice 
 of the pur))ose and the sacrifice of herself? 
 Yes! too latt'. The backward path had closed 
 behind her. Time, that no wish conld change, 
 Time, that no prayers could recall, had made 
 her purpose a j)art of her.self: once she had 
 governed it; now it governed her. The more 
 she shrank, thv harder she struggled, the more 
 mercilessly it drove her on. No other feeling 
 in lier was strong enough to master it — not 
 even the horror that was maddening her — 
 the liorior of her marriage. 
 
 Toward nine o'clock she went back to the 
 house. 
 
 " Walking again I" said ^Irs. AVraggc, meet- 
 ing her at the door. ' Come in and sit down, 
 my dear. How tired you nnnst be I" 
 
 Magtialen smihd, and patted Mrs. Wragge 
 kindly on the shoulder. 
 
 •• You 1'orget how strong I am," she said. 
 " Nothing iiurfs me." 
 
 She lit her candle, and wmt up stairs again 
 into hur room. As she returned to the old 
 
 place by her toilet-table, the vain hope in the 
 three days of delay, the vain hope of deliver- 
 ance by accident, came back to her — this time 
 in a form more tangible than the form which 
 it h;id liitherto worn. 
 
 " Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Something 
 may happi-n to him ; something may happen 
 tome. Something serious — something fatal. 
 One of us may die !" 
 
 A sudden change came over her face. She 
 shivered, though there was no cold in the air; 
 she started, though there was no noise to alarm 
 her. 
 
 " One of us may die I I may be tlie one !' 
 She fell into deep thought — roused herself 
 :\i\vv a while — and, opening the door, called 
 to Mrs. Wragge to come and spe;ik to lier. 
 
 "Y<m were right in tiiinking I slunild latiguc 
 myself," she said. " My walk has been a little 
 too much for me. I teel tired, a?id I am go- 
 ing to bed. Good-night." Siie kissed Mia. 
 Wragge, and sofily closed the door again. 
 
 Alter a tew turns backward and forward in 
 the room, she abruptly opened her writing- 
 ease and began a letter lo her aistt-r. The 
 letter grew anil grew under her hands; sh*; 
 filled sheet after sheet of note-paper. Her 
 heart was full of her subject: it was her own 
 story addressed to Norah. She shed no tears; 
 she was composed to a rjuiet sadness. Her 
 pen ran smoothly on. Alter writing for more 
 than two hours, she left oil' while the letter 
 was still unfinished. There was no signatunr 
 attached to it — there was a blank si);ice le- 
 served, to be filled up at some other lime. 
 Afti'r putting away the case, with the sheets 
 ot" writing secured inside it, she walked lo the 
 window for air, and stootl there looking out. 
 
 The moon was waning over the sea. The 
 breeze of the earlier hours hail died out. On 
 earth and ocean the spirit of the Night brood- 
 ed in a deep and awful calm. 
 
 Her head droo]>ed low on her bosom, and 
 \ all the view waned before her eyes with the 
 I waning moon. She saw no sea, no sky. 
 Death, the Temjitcr, was busy at her heart; 
 \ Death, the Tempter, pointed homeward to the 
 grave of her dead parents in Combe-Uaven 
 I church-yard. 
 
 " Nineteen last birthday," she thought — 
 
 ; -'only nineteen !" She moved away from the 
 
 I window, liesitated. and then lodked out again 
 
 at the view. ''The lnvTuiil'nl niglitl" she said, 
 
 gratefully ; "oh. the beauliful night!" 
 
 She left the winilow and lay down on her 
 1 bed. Sleep that had come treacherously be- 
 fore came meriilully now — came deep and 
 I dreamless, the image of her last waking 
 j thought— the imajiv! of Dealli. 
 
 1 
 
 j Early the next morning ^Mrs. Wragge went 
 ! into Magdalen's ro<im, and found that she had 
 1 risen betimes. She was sitting before the 
 1 glass, drawing the comb slo\yly llnough and 
 throngii her iiair, thoughtful ami (juiel. 
 
 " How do )ou feel this morning, my dear?" 
 
184 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 asked Mrs. AVragsje. " Quite well actain ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 After re])!ying in the afiirmative, she stop- 
 ped, considered for a moment, and suddeidy 
 contradicted herself. " No," she said, " not 
 quite well. I am suffering a little from tooth- 
 ache." As she altered her first answer in 
 those words site gave a twist to h:r hair with 
 the comb, so that it fell forward and hid her 
 face. 
 
 At breakfast she was very silent, and she 
 took nothing but a cup of tea. 
 
 " Let rae go to the chemist's and get some- 
 thing," said Mrs. Wragge. 
 
 " No. thank you." 
 
 " Do let me !" 
 
 "No!" 
 
 She refused for the second time, sharply 
 and angrily. As usual, Mrs. Wragge snljmit- 
 ted, and let her have her own way. When 
 breakfast was over she rose, without a word 
 of explanation, and went out. Mrs. Wragge 
 watched her irom the window, and saw that 
 she took the direction of the chemist's shop. 
 
 On reaching the ciiemist's door she stopped 
 — paused, before entering the shop, and looked 
 in at the window — hesitated, and walked away 
 a little — hesitated again, and took the first 
 turning Avhieh led back to the beach. 
 
 ^Vithout looking about her, without caring 
 what place she chose, she seated herself on the 
 shingle. The only pensons who were near to 
 her, in the position she now occupied, were a 
 nurse-maid and two little boys. The young- 
 est of the two had a iiny toyship in his hand. 
 After looking at AJagdalen for a little while 
 with the quaintesi^ravity and attention, the 
 boy suddenly approaclied licr, and opened the 
 way to an acf^uaintance by putting his toy 
 com])ose(lIy on her lap. 
 
 " Look at my ship," said tlie child, crossing 
 his hands on Magdalen's knee. 
 
 She was not usually j)atient with children. 
 In hap[)ier days she would not have met the 
 boy's advance toward her as she met it now. 
 The hard despair in her eyes left them sud- 
 denly, her fast-closed lips parted and trembled. 
 She put the ship back into the child's hands, 
 and lifted him on her lap. 
 
 " Will you give me a kiss V'she said, faintly. 
 
 The boy looked at his ship as if he would 
 rather have kissed the ship. 
 
 She repeated the question,' repeated it al- 
 most humbly. The child put Isis hand up to 
 her neck and kissed her. 
 
 " If I was your sister, would you love me?" 
 
 All the misery of her friendless position, all 
 the wasted tenderness of her heart, poured 
 from her in those words. 
 
 " Would you lo^'e me ?" she repeated, 
 hiding her face on the bosom of the child's 
 frock. 
 
 " Yes," said the boy. '' Look at my ship." 
 
 She looked at the ship through her gather- 
 ing tears. 
 
 •'What do you call it?" she. asked, trying 
 
 I hard-to find her way even to the interest of a 
 
 j child. 
 
 " I call it LTncle Kirke's sliip," said the boy. 
 " Uncle Kirke has gone awa}'." 
 
 I The name recalled nothing to her memory. 
 
 , No remembrances but old remembrances lived 
 
 I in her now. " Gone ?" she repeifted absently, 
 
 ; thinking what she should say to her little 
 
 I friend ne.xt. 
 
 " Yes," said the boy. " Gone to China." 
 Even from the lips of a child that word 
 struck her to the heart. She put Kirke's little 
 nephew off her lap, and instantly left the 
 beach. 
 
 As she turned back to the house the strug- 
 gle of the past night i-enewed itself in her 
 mind. But the sense of relief which the child 
 had bronglit to her, the reviving tenderness 
 which she had felt while he sat on her knee, 
 influen<'ed her still. She was consciolis of a 
 dawning hope opening freshly on !i"r thoughts, 
 as the boy s innocent eyes had opene<l on her 
 face when he came to her on the beach. Was 
 it too late to turn back? Once moi'e she asked 
 herself that question, and now lor the first; 
 tipie she asked it in doubt. 
 
 She ran up to her own room with a lurking 
 distrust in her changed self, which warned her 
 to act, and not to think. Without waiting to 
 remove her shawl or to take off her hat she 
 opened her writing-case, and addressed these 
 lines to (/aptain Wragge, as fast as her pen 
 could trace them : • 
 
 " You will find the money I promised you 
 inclosed in this. My resolution has failed me. 
 The horror of marrying him is more than I 
 can face. I have left Aldborougli. Pity my 
 weakness, and forget me. Let us never meet 
 again." 
 
 With throbbing heart, with eager, trembling 
 fingers, she drew her little wliite silk bag from 
 her bosom, and took out the bank-notes to in- 
 close them in the letter. Her hand searched 
 impetuously; her hand had lost its discrimi- 
 nation of touch. She grasped the whole con- 
 tents of the bag in one handful of papers, and 
 drew them out violently, tearing some rnd 
 disarranging the folds of others. As she threw 
 them down before her on the table the first 
 object that met her eye was her own hand- 
 writing, faded already with time. She looked 
 closer, and saw the words she had copied from 
 her dead father's letter — saw the lawyer's 
 brief and terrible commentary on them con- 
 fronting her at the bottom of the page': 
 
 Mr. Vans/one's daughters are Nobody^s Chil- 
 dren, and the law leaven them helpless at their 
 uncle's mercy. 
 
 Her throbbing heart stopped, her trembling 
 hands grew icily quiet. All the Past rose 
 before her in mute, overwhelming reproach. 
 She took up the lines which her own hand 
 had written hardly a minute since, and looked 
 at the ink still wet on the letters with a vacant 
 incredulity. 
 
 The color that had risen on her cheeks 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 185 
 
 failed from them once more. The hard despair 
 looked out again, cohl and glittering, in her 
 tearless eyes." She folded the bank-notes care- 
 fully, ami put them back in her bag. She 
 pressed the copy of her father's letter to her 
 lips, and returned it to its place, with the 
 bank-uotes. When the bag was in her bosom 
 again, she waited a little, wi'th her face hidden 
 in her hands, then deliberately tore up the 
 lines addressed to Captain Wragge. Before 
 the ink was dry the letter lay in fragments on 
 the floor. 
 
 "No!" she said, as the last morsel of the 
 torn jiaper dropped from her hand. " On the 
 way 1 go there is no turning back." 
 
 Slie rose composedly and left the room. 
 While descending the stairs she met Mrs. 
 Wragge coming up. " Going out again, my 
 dear y" asked JSlrs. Wragge. "May 1 go with 
 yon ■?" 
 
 Magdalen's attention wandered. Instead of 
 answering the question, she . absently an- 
 swered her own thoughts. 
 
 •* Thousands of women marry for money," 
 slie said. " Why shouldn't I?" 
 
 The helpless perplexity of Mrs. Wragge's 
 face as she spoke those Avords roused her to a 
 sense of present things. 
 
 "My poor dear!" she said, "I puzzle you, 
 don't I ? Never mind what I say — all girls 
 talk nonsense ; and I 'm no better than the 
 rest of them. Come ! I '11 give you a treat. 
 You shall enjoy yourself while the captain 's 
 away. W^e will have a long drive by our- 
 «elvi^s. Futon your smart bonnet, and come 
 with me to the hotel. I '11 tell the landlady to 
 put a nice cold dinner into a basket. You 
 shall have all the things you like, and I "11 
 wait on you. Wlien you are an old, old 
 woman, you will remember mc kindly, won't 
 you ? You will say, ' She wasn't a bad girl ; 
 hundred.s worse than she was live and prosper, 
 and nobody blames them.' There ! there ! go 
 and put your bonnet on. Oh, my God, what 
 is my heart made of! How it lives and lives, 
 when other girls' hearts would have died in 
 them long ago !" 
 
 In hall an hour more she and Mrs. Wragge 
 were seated together in the carriage. One of 
 tlie horses was restive at starting. " Flog 
 him," she cried, angril)-, to the driver. " What 
 are you frightened about? Flog him! Sup- 
 pose the carriage was upset," she said, turning 
 Buddenl)' to her companion; "and suppose I 
 was thrown out and killed on the spot ^ Non- 
 sense ! don't look at me in that way. I 'm 
 like your husband; I have a dash of humor, 
 and I 'm only joking." 
 
 Tiicy were out the whole day. When they 
 reacln;d home again, it was after dark. The 
 long succession ol" hours passed in the fresh 
 air kit them both with the same sense of 
 fatigue. Again that night Magdalen slept the 
 deep, <lreamless sleep of the night before. 
 Ana so the Friday closed. 
 
 Her last thought at night bad been the 
 thought which had sustained her throughout 
 the day. She had laid her head on the pillow 
 with the same reckless resolution to submit to 
 the coming trial which had already expressed 
 itself in words when she and Mrs. Wragge 
 met by accident on the stairs. When she 
 woke on the morning of Saturday- the resolu- 
 tion was gone. The Friday's thoi;ghts — the 
 Friday's events even — were blotted out of her 
 mind. Once again, creeping chill through the 
 flow of^her young blood, she felt the slow and 
 deadly prompting of despair which had come 
 to her in the waning moonlight, which had 
 whispered to her in the awful calm. 
 
 " I saw the end as the end must be," she 
 said to herself, " on Thursday night. I have 
 been wrong ever since." 
 
 When sne and her companion met that 
 morning she reiterated her complaint of suf- 
 fering ii om the toothache ; she repeated her 
 refusal to allow Mrs. Wragge to procure a 
 remedy; she left the house after breakfast, in 
 the direction of the chemist's shop, exactly as 
 she had left it on the morning before. 
 
 This time she entered the shop without an 
 instant's hesitation. 
 
 " I have got an attack of toothache," she 
 said, abruptly, to an elderly man who stood 
 behind the counter. 
 
 " May I look at the tooth. Miss ?" 
 
 " There is no necessity to look. It is a 
 hollow tooth. I think I have caught cold in 
 it." 
 
 The chemist recommended various remedies 
 which were in vogue fifteen years since. She 
 declined purchasing any of them. 
 
 " I have always found laudanum relieve the 
 pain better than anything else," she said, 
 trifling with the bottles on the counter, and 
 looking at them while she spoke, instead of 
 looking at the chemist. " Let me have some 
 laudanum." 
 
 " Certainly, Miss. Excuse my asking the 
 question — it is only a matter of form. Y'ou 
 are staying at Aldborough, I think ?" 
 
 " Yes. I am Miss Bvgrave, of North Shin- 
 gles." 
 
 The chemist bowed; and, turning to his 
 shelves, filled an ordinary half-ounce bottle 
 with laudanum immediately. In ascertaining 
 his customer's name and address beforehand 
 the owner of the shop had taken a precaution 
 which was natural to a careful man, but 
 which was by no means universal, under simi- 
 lar circumstances, in the state of the law at 
 that time. , 
 
 "Shall I put you up a little cotton -wool 
 with the laudanum ?" he asked, after he had 
 placed a label on the bottle, and had written 
 a word on it in large letters. 
 
 " If you please. What have you just writ- 
 ten on the bottle? She put the question 
 sharj)ly, with something of distrust as well-as 
 cuiiosity in her manner. 
 
 24 
 
186 
 
 NO NAIME. 
 
 The chemist answered the question by turn- 
 ing the label toward her. She saw written on 
 it, in large letters — Poison. ■ 
 
 "I like to be on the safe side, Miss," said 
 the old man, smiling. " Very worthy people 
 in other respects are often sadly careless 
 where poisons are concerned." 
 
 She began trifling again with the bottles on 
 the count'er, and put another question, with 
 an ill-concealed an.xiety to hear the answer. 
 
 "Is there danger," she asked, "in such a 
 little drop of laudanum as that?" 
 
 " There is Death in it, Miss," replied the 
 chemist, quietly. 
 
 " Deatli to a child, or to a penson in delicate 
 health '?" 
 
 " Death to the strongest man in England, 
 let him be who he may." 
 
 With that answer the chemist sealed up the 
 bottle in its wrapping of white paper, and 
 handed the laudanum to Magdalen across the 
 counter. She laughed as she took it from him 
 and paid for it. 
 
 " There will be no fear of accidents at 
 North Sliingles," she said. " I shall keep the 
 bottle locked up in my dressing-case. If it 
 doesn't relieve the pain, I must come to you 
 again and try some other remedy. Good- 
 morning." 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss." 
 
 She went straight back to the house without 
 once looking up — without noticing any one 
 who passed her. She brushed by Mrs. Wragge 
 iu the passage as she might have brushed by 
 a piece of furniture. She ascended the stairs, 
 and caught her foot twice in her di'ess from 
 sheer inattention to the common precaution of 
 holding it up. The trivial daily interests of 
 life had lost their hold on her already. 
 
 In the privacy of her own room she took 
 the bottle I'rom its wrapping, and threw the 
 paper and the cotton-wool into the fireplace. 
 At the moment when she did this there was a 
 knock at the door. She hid the little bottle, 
 and looked up impatiently. Mrs. Wriifgge 
 came into the room. 
 
 " Have you got something for your tooth- 
 ache, mv dear ?" 
 
 "Yes'." _ ' ' ^ 
 
 " Can I do anything to help you ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Mrs. Wragge still lingered uneasily near 
 the door. Her manner showed plainly thajt 
 8he had something more to say. 
 
 "What is it ?" asked Magdaleii, sharply. 
 
 " Don't be angry," said Mrs. Wragge. " I 
 am not settled in my mhid about the captain. 
 Ue 's a great writer — and he hasn't written. 
 lie' 's as quick as lightning — and he hasn't 
 come back. Here 's Saturday, and no signs 
 Orf\hlm. Has he run awa}^ do you think ? 
 Has anything happened to him?" 
 
 " I should think not. Go down stairs ; I '11 
 come and speak to you about it directly." 
 
 As soon as she was alone again Magdalen 
 rose from her chair, advanced toward a cup- 
 
 board in the room which locked, and paused 
 for a moment, with her hand on the. key, in 
 doubt. Mrs. Wragge's appearance had dis- 
 turbed the whole current of her thoughts. 
 LIrs. Wragge's last question, trifling as it was, 
 had checked her on the verge of the preci- 
 pice — had roused the old vain hope in her 
 once more of release by accident. 
 
 " Wh}^ not ?" she said. *' Why may some- 
 thing not have happened to one of them ?" 
 
 She placed the laudanum in the cupboard^ 
 locked it, and put the key in her pocket 
 " Time enough still," she thought, " before 
 Monday. I '11 wait till the captain comes 
 back." 
 
 After some consultation down stairs it was 
 agreed that the servant should sit up thait 
 night in expectation of her master's return. 
 The day passed quietly, without events of 
 any kind. Magdalen di-eamed away the hours 
 over a book. A weary patience of expecta- 
 tion was all she felt now — the poignant tor- 
 ment of thought was dulled and blunted at 
 last. She passed the day and the evening in 
 the parlor, vaguely conscious of a strange feel- 
 ing of aversion to going back to her own room. 
 As the night advanced, as the noises ceased 
 indoors and out, her restlessness began to re- 
 turn. She endeavored to quiet herself by 
 reading. Books failed to fix her attention. 
 The newspaper was lying in a corner of the 
 room ; she tried the newspaper next. 
 
 She looked mechanically at the headings of 
 the articles ; she listlessly turned over page 
 after page, until her wandering attention was 
 arrested by the narrative of an execution in a 
 distant part of England. Tiiere was nothing 
 to strllce her in the story of the crime, and yet 
 she read it. It was a common, horribly com- 
 mon, act of bloodshed — the murder of a wo- 
 man in farm-service by a man iu the same 
 employment who was jealous of her. He had 
 been convicted on no extraordinary evidence; 
 he had been hanged under no unusual circum- 
 stances. He had made his confession, when 
 he knew there was no hope for him, like other 
 criminals of his class; and the newspaper had 
 printed it at the end of the article, in these 
 terms : 
 
 1 kopt company with the deceascii for a year or there- 
 abouts. I said I would marry her when 1 had money 
 enough. She said 1 liad money enongh now. We had n 
 quarrel. Slie refused to walk out with nie any more: sho 
 wouldn't draw mo my heer; she took up with nij fellow- 
 servant, David Crouch. I went to her on the Saturday and 
 said I would marry her a« soon as wc could be asked in 
 church, if she would give up Crouch. Slie laughed at me. 
 Sho turned me out of the wash-house, and the rest of them 
 saw her turn me out. 1 wiis not easy in my mind. 1 went 
 and sat on a gate — the gate in the meadow they call Pet- 
 tit's Piece. I thouglit l would shoot her. 1 went and 
 fetched my gim and loaded it. I went out into Pettit'a 
 Piece again. 1 was hard put to it to make up my mind. 
 I thought I would try my luck — I mean try whether to 
 kill her or not — by throwiivg up the Spud of the plough into 
 the air. I said to myself, if it ialls flat. 1 11 spare her; if it 
 falls point in the earth, I 'il kill her. I took a good swing 
 with it and shied it \ip. It lell point in the earth. I went 
 and shot her. It w-as a bad job, but I did it. I did it, as 
 they said I did it at the tri.-il. 1 hope the Lord will have 
 mercy on me. 1 wi«h my mother to have my old clothes. 
 I have no more to sa/. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 187 
 
 In the happier days of her life Magdalen 
 would have passed over the narrative of the 
 execution, and the printed confession which 
 accompanied it, unread — the subject woukl 
 have failed to attract her. She read the hor- 
 rible story now — read it with an interest un- 
 intelliffibie to herself. Her attention, which 
 had wandered over higher and better thin-x?, 
 followed every sentence of the murderer's 
 hideously direct confession from beginning to 
 end. If the man or the woman had been 
 known to her — if the place had been familiar 
 to 4icr memory — she could hardly have fol- 
 lowed the narrative more, closely, or iiave felt 
 a more distinct impression of it left on her 
 mind. She laid down the paper, wondering 
 at herself; she took it up once more and tried 
 to read some other portion of the contents. 
 The elTort was useless; her attention wan- 
 dered again. She threw the paper away and 
 went out into the garden. The night was 
 daj'k, the stars were few aiul faint. She could 
 just see the gravel-walk — she could just pace 
 it backward and forward between the house- 
 door and the gate. 
 
 The confession in the newspaper had taken 
 a fearful hold on her mind. As she paced the 
 walk (he black night opened over tlie sea, and 
 showed her the mnrdt'rer in the field Imrling 
 the Spud of the plough into the air. She ran, 
 shuddering, back to the house. The murder- 
 er followed her into the parlor. She seized 
 the candle and went uj) into her room. Tlie 
 vision of her own distempered fancy followed 
 ber to the place where the laudanum was hid- 
 den, and vanished there. 
 
 It was midnight, and there was no sign yet 
 of the captain's return. 
 
 She took from the writing-case tlie long let- 
 ter which she had written to Norah, and slow- 
 ly reail it through. The letter (juieted her. 
 When she reached tlie blank space leil at the 
 end she hurriedly turned back and began it 
 over again. 
 
 One o'clock struck from the church-clock, 
 and still the captain never a|)peared. 
 
 She read the letter for the second time: 
 she turned back obstinately, despairingly, and 
 began it tor the third time. As slie once more 
 reached the last page she looked at her watch. 
 It was a (juartcr to two. She had just put 
 the watch back in the belt of her dress win n 
 there came to her — far olF in the stillness of 
 the morning — a sound of wheels. 
 
 She dropped the letter, and clasped her 
 cold hands in her lap and listened. The 
 sound came on faster and faster, iiearer and 
 nearer — the trivial .sound to all other ears ; 
 the sound of Doom to hers. . It passed the 
 side of the house ; it travelled a little farther 
 on; it stopped. She heard a loud knocking — 
 then the opening of a window — then voices — 
 then a long silence — tiien the wheels again, 
 coming bai k — then the opening of the'door 
 below, and the sound of the captain's voice in 
 the passage. 
 
 She could endure it no longer. She opened 
 her door a little way and called to him. 
 
 He run up stairs instantly, astonished that 
 she was not in bed. She spoke to him through 
 the narrow opening of the door, keeping her- 
 self hidden bidiind it, for she was afraid to let 
 him see her face. 
 
 " Has anything gone wrong?" she asked. 
 
 "Make your mind easy," he answered. 
 " Nothing has gone wrong." 
 
 ''Is no accident likely to happen between 
 this and Monday V" 
 
 " None whatever. The marriage is a cer- 
 taintv." 
 
 "A certainty?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Good-night." 
 
 Sln5 put her hand out through the door. 
 He took it with some little surjirise ; it wa3 
 not often in his experience that she gave him 
 her hand of her own accord. 
 
 " You have sat up too long," he said, as he 
 felt the clasp of her cold fingers. " I am 
 afraid you will have a bad night — I 'm afraid 
 you will not .sleep." 
 
 She softly closed the door. 
 
 "I sliall sleep," she said, "sounder than yon 
 think for."' 
 
 It was past two o'clock when she shut her- 
 self up alone in her room. Her chair stood in 
 its customary place by the toilet-table. She 
 sat down for a few minutes thoughtfully — 
 then opened her letter to Norah, and turned 
 to the end, where the blank space was left. 
 The last lines wiittcn above the space ran 
 thus : 
 
 I have Iiiii] my wliulo licait bare to you: I have liiiUlcn 
 notliing. It ha,s conio to this. The end I liave toiled lor, 
 at such tcrriblo eost to uiys-elf. is an cud ivhicii I must 
 n'acli. or die. It is \viLUe4iiie.ss, madness wliat you will — 
 but it is so. There are now two journeys before mu to 
 choose between. If 1 can marry him — tlie journey to the 
 cimrch. If tho profanation of myself is more than J can 
 bear — the journey to the grave! 
 
 Under that last sentence she wrote these 
 lines: 
 
 I*Ty choice is made. If (lie ciucl law will let you. \ny m« 
 Willi my father and mother in the church yard at home. 
 I'arewcil, my love! lie always innocent; be always Imp- . 
 [ly. If Frank ever asks about me say 1 died forgiving'him. 
 Don't grievo long for me, Norah — 1 am not worth it. 
 
 She sealed the letter and addre.<?ed it to her 
 sister. The tears gathered in her ej-es as she 
 laid it on the table. She »aited until her 
 sight was clear again, and then took the bank- 
 notes once more from the little bag in her 
 bosom. Afti'r wra[)ping them in a sheet of 
 note-paper, she wrote Cajitain Wragge's name 
 on the inclosure, and added these words below 
 it : " Lock the door of my room, and leave me 
 till my sister comes. The money I promised 
 you is in this. You are not to blame ; it is 
 my faidt, and mine only. If you have any 
 friendly remembrance of me, be kind to your 
 wife (or my sake." 
 
 After i)lacing the inclosure by the letter to 
 Norah, she rose and looked round the room. 
 
188 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Some few little things in it were not in their 
 places. She set them in order, and drew the 
 curtains on either side at the head of her bed. 
 Her own dress was the next object of her 
 scrutiny. It was all as neat, as pure, as pret- 
 tily arranjied as ever. Nothing about her 
 was disordered but her hair. Some tresses 
 had fallen loose on one side of her head ; she 
 carefully put them back in their places, with 
 the help of her glass. " How pale I look !" 
 she thought, with a faint smile. " Shall I be 
 paler still Avhen they find me in the morning?" 
 She went straight to the place where tlie 
 
 • laudanum was hidden, and took It out. The 
 bottle was so small that it lay easily in the 
 palm of her hand. She let it remain there 
 for a little while, and stood looking at it. 
 
 " Death !" she said. " In this drop of 
 brown drink— Death !" 
 
 As the words passed her lips an agony of 
 unutterable horror seized on her in an instant. 
 She crossed the room unsteadily, with a mad- 
 dening confusion in her head, with a suffocat- 
 ing anguish at her heart. She caught at the 
 table to support herself. The faint clink of 
 the bottle, as it fell harmlessly from her 
 loosened grasp and rolled against some porce- 
 lain obj'ect on the table, struck through her 
 brain like the stroke of a knife. The sound 
 of her own voice, sunk to a whisper — her 
 voice only uttering that one word, Death — 
 rushed in her ears like the rushing of a wind. 
 She dragged herself to the bedside and rested 
 her head against it, sitting on the floor. " Oh, 
 my life ! my life !" she thouglit ; " what is my 
 life worth that I cling to it like this '?" 
 
 An interval passed, and she felt her strength 
 returning. She raised herself on her knees 
 and hid lier face on the bed. She tried to 
 pray — to pray to be forgiven for seeking the 
 refuge of death. Frantic words burst from 
 her lips — words which would have risen to 
 cries if she had not stifled them in the bed- 
 clothes. She started to her feet; despair 
 strengthened her with a headlong fury against 
 herself. In one moment she was back at the 
 table ; in another the poison was once more in 
 her hand. 
 
 She removed the cork and lifted the bottle 
 to her mouth. 
 
 At the first cold touch of the glass on her 
 
 ' lips her strong young life leaped up in her 
 
 leaping blood, and fought with the whole 
 
 • frenzy of its loathing against the close terror 
 ■ of Death. Every active power in the exuber- 
 ant vital force that was in her rose in revolt 
 against the destruction which her own will 
 would fain have wreaked on her own life. 
 She paused ; for the second time she paused 
 
 ^in spite of herself. There, in the glorious 
 perfection of her youth and health — there, 
 trembling on the verge of human existence, 
 she stood, with the kiss of the Destroyer close 
 at her lips, and Nature, faithful to its sacred 
 trust, fighting for the salvation of her to the 
 last. 
 
 No word passed her lips. Her cheeks 
 flushed deep, her breath came thick and fust. 
 With ,the poison still in her hand, with the 
 sense that she might faint in another moment, 
 she made for the window and threw back the 
 curtain that covered it. 
 
 The new day had risen. The broad, gray 
 dawn flowed in on her over the quiet eastern 
 sea. 
 
 She saw the waters heaving large and silent 
 in the misty calm ; she felt the fresh breath of 
 the morning flutter cool on her face. Her 
 strength returned ; her mind cleared a little. 
 At the sight of the sea her memory recalled 
 the walk in the garden overnight, and the 
 picture which her distempered fancy had 
 painted on the black void. In thought, she 
 saw the picture again — the murderwr hurl- 
 ing the Spud of the plough into the air, and 
 setting the life or death of the v/oman who 
 had deserted him on the hazard of the falling 
 point. The infection of that tei'rible super-- 
 stition seized on her mind as suddenly as tho 
 new day had burst on her view. The promise 
 of release which she saw in it from the horror 
 of her own hesitation roused the last energies 
 of her despair. She resolved to end the 
 struggle by setting her life or death on the 
 hazard of a chance. 
 
 On what chance ? 
 
 The sea showed it to her. Dimly distin- 
 guishable through the mist she saw a littlt' 
 fleet of coasting vessels slowly drifting toward 
 the house, all following the same direction 
 with the favoring set of the tide. In half an 
 hour — perhaps in less — the fleet would have 
 passed her window. The hands of her watch 
 pointed to four o'clock. She seated herself 
 close at the side of the window, with her back 
 toward the quarter from which the vessels 
 were drifting down on her — with the poison 
 placed on the window-sill and the watch on 
 her lap. For one half-hour to come she de- 
 termined to wait there and count the vessels- 
 as they went by. If in that time an even 
 number passed her, the sign given should be a' 
 sign to live. If the uneven number prevailed, 
 the end should be death. 
 
 With that final resolution she rested her 
 head against the window, and waited for tho 
 ships to pass. 
 
 The first came — high, dark, and near in 
 the mist, gliding eilently over the silent sea. 
 An interval, and the second followed, with tho 
 third close after it. Another interval, longer 
 and longer tlrawn out, and nothing passed. 
 She looked at her watch. Twelve miaatee, 
 and three ships. Three. 
 
 The fourth came — slower than the rest, 
 larger than the rest, farther off in the mist 
 than the rest.' The interval foUov.-^ed — » 
 long interval once more. Then the next ve*- 
 sel passed — darkest and nearest of all. Five. 
 The next uneven number. Five. 
 
 She looked at her watch again. Nineteen 
 minutes, and five ships. Twenty minutes, 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 189 
 
 twenty-one, two, tlirce, and no sixth vessel. 
 Twenty-four, and the sixth came by. Twen- 
 ty-five, twenty -six, twenty -seven, twenty- 
 eight, and tlie next uneven number — the 
 fatal Seven — glided into view. Tavo min- 
 utes to the end of the haU-bour, and seven 
 ships. 
 
 Twenty-nine, and nothing foUowed in the 
 Wake of the seventh sliip. The minute-!iand 
 of the wat(;h movud on half-way to thirty, and 
 still the wliite, heaving sea Avas a misty blank. 
 Without moving her head from the window she 
 took the poison in one hand and raised the 
 watch in the other. As the quick seconds 
 counted each other out, her eyes, as quick as 
 they, looked from the wateli to the sea, from 
 thesca 10 the watch— looked for the last time 
 at the sea — and saw tlie Eighth ship. 
 
 I.i.fe ! At the last moment, Life ! 
 
 She never moved ; she never spoke. The 
 death of thought, the death of feeling, seemed 
 to have come to her already. She put back 
 the poison mechanically on the ledge of the 
 window, and Avatched as iu a dream, the ship 
 gliding sniootldy on its silent way — gliding till 
 it melted dimly into shadow — gliding till it was 
 lost in the mist. 
 
 The strain o%\ her^nind relaxed when the 
 Messenger of Life had j)assed from her siglit. 
 
 "Providence?" she whispered faintly to her- 
 self " Or Chance ?" 
 
 Ilea' eyos closed and her head fell back. 
 When the sense of life returned to her the 
 morning sun was warm on her face — the blue 
 heaven looked down on her — and the sea was 
 a sea of gold. 
 
 She fell on her knees at the window and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 * » * * * « * 
 
 Toward noon that day, the captain, waiting 
 below stairs, and hearing no movement in INLag- 
 dalen's room, felt uneasj' at the long silence. 
 He desired the new maid to follow him up 
 stairs, and, pointing to the door, told her to go 
 in softly and see whether her mistress was 
 awake. 
 
 The maid entered the room, remained there 
 a moment*, and came out again, closing the 
 door gently. 
 
 " She looks beautiful. Sir," said the girl ; 
 " and she 's- sleeping as quietly as a new-i)orn 
 child." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The morning of her husband's return to 
 North Shingles was a morning mcmoi-able for 
 ever in tht' domestic calendar of Mrs. Wracrge. 
 She dated from that occasion the first an- 
 nouncement which reached her of Magdalen's 
 marringe. 
 
 If had l)ecn Mrs. Wragge's earthly lot to pjiss 
 her life in a state of perpetual surprise. Never 
 yet, however, had she wandered in such a maze 
 of astonishment as the maze in which she lost 
 
 herself when the captain coolly told her the 
 truth. She had been sharp enough to suspect 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone of coming to the house ia 
 the character of a sweetheart on approval ; 
 and .she had dimly interpreted certain expres- 
 sions of impatience which had fallen from 
 Magdalen's lips as boding ill for the success of 
 his suit — but her utmost penetration had never 
 reached as far as a suspicion of the impending 
 marriage. She rose from one climax of amaze- 
 ment to another as her husband proceeded 
 with his disclosure. A wedding in the family 
 at a day's notice ! and«that wedding Magda- 
 len's ! and not a single new dress ordered for 
 iinybody, the bride included ; and the Orient- 
 al Cashmere Robe totally unavailable, on the 
 occasion of all others when she might have 
 worn it to the greatest advantage ! Mrs. 
 Wragge dropped crookedly into a chair, and 
 beat her disorderly hands on her misymmetri- 
 cal knees, in utter forgetfulness of the cap- 
 tain's presence and the captain's terrible eye. 
 It would not have surprised her to hear next 
 that tlie world had come to an cmd, and that 
 the only mortal whom Destiny had overlooked 
 in winding np the all'airs of this earthly planet 
 was heiselt! 
 
 Leaving his Avife to recover her composure 
 by her own unaided etforts. Captain Wragge 
 withdrew to wait for Magdalen's appearance 
 in the lower regions of the house. It was close 
 on one o'clock before the sound of footsteps iu 
 the room aliove Avarned him that she was aAvakc 
 and stirring. He called at once for the maid 
 (whose name he had ascertained to be Louisa), 
 and sent her up stairs to her mistress ibr the 
 second time. 
 
 Magdalen Avas standing by her dressiiig- 
 table Avheu a faint tap near the door suddenly 
 roused her. The ta]) Avas followed by the soiuid 
 of a meek voice, Avliich announced itself as the 
 voice of " her maid," and incpiircd if Miss By- 
 grave needed any assistance that morning. 
 
 '• Not at present," said Magdalen, as soon as 
 she recovered the surprise of finding herself 
 unexpectedly provided Avith au attendant. "I 
 Avill ring when I Avant you." 
 
 After dismissing the Avoman Avlth that an- 
 SAver, she accidentally looked from the door to 
 the window. Any speculations on the subject 
 of the new servant in which she might other- 
 wise have engaged Avere instantly suspeiuled 
 by the sight "of the. bottle of laudanum, still 
 standing on the ledge of the Avindow, where 
 she had left it at sunrise. She took it once 
 more in her hand, Avith a strange confusion of 
 feeling — Avith a vague doubt even yet, Avhether 
 the si'^ht of it reminded her of a terrible reality 
 or a terrible dream. Her first impulse Avas to 
 rid herself of it on the spot. She raised tho 
 bottle to throAV the contents out of the Avin- 
 dow- — and paused, in sudden distrust of the 
 imjiulse that had come to her. " I have ac- 
 cepted my ncAv life," she thought. " How do 
 1 know what that life may have in store for 
 me T' She turned from the Avindow and Avent 
 
190 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 back to the tabic. " I may be forced to drink 
 it yet," she said, and put tlie laudanum into 
 her dressin;T-ease. 
 
 Her mind was not at ease when she had 
 done this : there seemed to be some indefinable 
 ingratitude in the act. Still she made no at- 
 tempt to remove the bottle from its hiding- 
 place. She hurried on her toilet; she hasten- 
 ed the time when she could ring for the maid, 
 and forget herself and her waking thoughts in 
 a new subject. After touching the bell she 
 took from the table her letter to Norali and 
 her letter to the captnin, put them both into 
 her dressing-case with the laudanum, and 
 locked it securely witli the key which she kept 
 attached to her watch-chain. 
 
 Magdalen's first impression of her attendant 
 was not an agreeable one. She could not in- 
 vestigate the girl with' the experienced eye of 
 the landlady at the London hotel, who had 
 characterized the stranger as a young person 
 conversant with misfortune ; and who had 
 ehown i)lainly, by her look and manner, of 
 what nature she suspected that misfortune to 
 be. But, with this drawback, Magdalen was 
 perfectly competent to detect the tokens of 
 sickness and sorrow lurking under the surficc 
 of the new maid's activity and politeness. She 
 suspected the girl was ill-tempered ; she dis- 
 ' liked her name; and slie was indisposed to 
 we.lcome any servant who had been eniraged 
 by Mr. Noel Vanstone. But after the first few 
 minutes "Louisa" grew on her liking. She 
 answered all the questions put to her with per- 
 fect directness; she appeared to understand 
 her duties thoroughly; and she never spoke 
 until slie was spoken to first. After making all 
 the incjuiries that occurred to her at the time, 
 and alter determining to give the maid a fair 
 trial, INIagdalen rose to leave the room. The 
 very air in it was still heavy to her with the 
 oppression of the past niglit. 
 
 "Have you anything more to say to me ?" 
 she asked, turning to the servant, with her 
 hand on the door. 
 
 "I beg your pardon. Miss," said Louisa, 
 very respectfully and very quietly. "I think 
 my master told me that the marriage was to 
 be to-morrow V" 
 
 Magdalen repressed the sliudder that stole 
 over her at that reference to the marriage on 
 the lips of a stranger, and answered in the 
 affirmative. 
 
 "It 's a very short time, Miss, to prepare in. 
 If you would be so kind as to give me my 
 orders about the packing before you go down 
 stairs — V" 
 
 " There are no such preparations to make 
 as you suppose,' said Magdalen, hastily. 
 " The few things I have here can be all 
 packed at once, if you like. I shall wear the 
 same dress to-morrow which I have on to-day. 
 Leave out the straw bonnet and the light 
 shawl, and put everything else into my boxes. 
 I have no new dresses to pack — I have noth- 
 ing ordered for the occasion, of any sort." 
 
 She tried to add rfome commonplace phrases 
 of explanation, accounting as probably as 
 might be for the absence of the usual wedding- 
 outfit and wedding-dress. But no further 
 reference to the marriage Avould pass her lips, 
 and without another word she abruptly left 
 the room. 
 
 The meek end melancholy Louisa stood lost 
 in astonishment. " Something wrong here," 
 she thought. •' I 'm half afraid of my new 
 place alread}'." She sighed resignedly, shook 
 her head, and Avent to the wardrobe. She 
 first examined the drawers underneath ; took 
 out the various articles of linen laid inside, 
 and placed them on chairs. Opening the 
 upper part of the wardrobe next, she ranged 
 the dresses in it side by side on the befl. Her 
 last proceeding was to push the empty boxes 
 into the middle of the room, and to compare 
 the space at her disposal with the articles of 
 dress Avlilch she had to pack. She completed 
 her preliminary calculations with the ready 
 self-reliance of a woman who thoroughly un- 
 derstood her business, and began the packing 
 forthwith. Just as she had placed the first 
 article of linen i-n the smaller box the door of 
 the room opened, and the house-servant, eager 
 for gossip, came in. • 
 
 " What do you want ?" asked Louisa, 
 quietly. 
 
 "Did you ever hear of anything like this!" 
 said the house-servant, entering on her subject 
 immediately. 
 
 " Like what ?" 
 
 " Like this marriage, to be sure ! You 're 
 London - bred, they tell me. Did you ever 
 hear of a young lady being married without a 
 single neAv thing to her back? No wedding- 
 veil, and no wedding-breakfast, and no Aved- 
 (llng-faA-ors for the servants ! It 's fiying in the 
 face of Providence — that 's Avhat I say. I 'm 
 only a poor servant, I know. But it 's Avick* 
 ed — doAvnrlght Avickcd — and I don't caro Avho 
 hears me !" 
 
 Louisa Avent on with the packing. 
 
 " Look at her dresses!" persisted the house- 
 servant, Avaving her hand indignantly at the 
 bed. " I 'm only a poor girl, but I wouldn't 
 marry the best man alive Avithout a new goAvn 
 to my back. Look hei-e I look at this doAvdy 
 brown thing here. Alpaca I You 're not go- 
 ing to pack this Alpaca thing, are you ? AVhy, 
 it 's hardly fit for a servant 1 I don't know 
 that I 'd take a gift of it if it Avas oflTored me. 
 It Avould do ibr me if I took it up in the skirt 
 and let it out in the Avaist; and it Avouldn't 
 look so bad Avith a bit of bright trimming, 
 Avould it ?" 
 
 " Let that dress alone, if your please," said 
 Louisa, as quietly as ever. 
 
 " AVhat did you say ?" inquired the other, 
 doubting Avhether her ears had not deceived 
 her. 
 
 " I said, let that dress alone. It belongs to 
 my mistress; and I have my mistress's orders 
 to pack up everything in the room. You ara 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 191 
 
 not. helping me by coming here — you are very 
 milcli in niv way." 
 
 " Well !" said' the house-servant, "you may 
 be London -bred, as they say. But if these 
 are your London manners, give me SufTolk !" 
 Sheopened the door, with an angry snateh at 
 the handle, shut it violently, opened it again, 
 and looked in.* " Give me Sullblk !" said the 
 house-servant, with a parting nod of her head 
 to point the edge of her sarcasm. 
 
 Louisa proceeded impenetrably with her 
 paeking-up. 
 
 Having neatly disposed of the linen in the 
 smaller bo.x, she turned her attention to the 
 dresses next. After passing them carefully in 
 revicNv, to ascertain which was the least valu- 
 able of the collection, and to place that one 
 in the bottom of the trunk for the rest to lie 
 on, she made her choice with very little diffi- 
 culty. The first gown which she put into the 
 box was the brown Alpaca dress. 
 
 Meanwhile Magdalen had joined the cap- 
 tain down stairs. Although he could not lail 
 to notice the languor in her face, and the 
 llstlessness of all her movements, he was re- 
 lieved to find that she met him with ])erfect 
 composure. She was even self- ])Ossessod 
 enough to a.sk liim for news of his journey, 
 with no other signs of agitation than a pass- 
 ing change of color and a little trembling of 
 the lips. 
 
 *' So much for the past," said Captain 
 Wragge, when his narrative of the expedition 
 to Jyondon by way of St. Crux had come to 
 an en<l. " Now for the present. Tiie bride- 
 groom — " 
 
 " If it makes no difTerence," she interposed, 
 " call him Mr. Noel Vanstone." 
 
 " With all my heart. Mr. Noel Vanstone 
 is coming here this afternoon to dine and 
 Bjiend the evening, lie will be tiresome in 
 the last degree; but, like all tiresome j)eo])le, 
 he is not to be got rid of on any terms. Be- 
 fore he comes 1 have a last word or two of 
 caution for youi: private ear. By this time 
 to-morrow we sliall have ])arted, without any 
 certain knowledge on either side of our ever 
 meeting again. I am anxious to serve your 
 interests faithfullv to the last; I am anxious 
 you should feel that I have done all I could 
 (or youi- future security when we say good-bj'." 
 
 l^Iagdalen looked at him in surj)rise. lie 
 epoke in altered tones, lie was agitated; he 
 was strangely in earnest. Something in his 
 look and manner took her memory back to 
 tlie first night at Aldborough, when she had 
 oj)ined her mind to him in the darkening 
 Rolitude — when they two liad sat together 
 alone on the slope of the martello tower. 
 
 " 1 have no reason to think otherwise than 
 kindly of yon," she said. 
 
 Captain Wragge suddenly left his chair, 
 ind look a turn backward and forward in the 
 room. Magdalen's last words seemed to have 
 produced ."!ome extraordinary disturbance in 
 him. 
 
 " Damn it !" he broke out ; " I can't let you 
 saj'^ tliat. You have reason to think ill of me. 
 I have cheated you. You never got your 
 fair share of profit from the Entertainment, 
 from first to last. There ! now the murder 'a 
 out!" 
 
 INIagdalen smiled, and signed to him to come 
 back to his chair. 
 
 " I know you cheated me," she said, quietly. 
 "You were in the exercise of youi- prfft'ession, 
 Captain Wragge. I expected it when I joined 
 yon. I made no complaint at tiie time, and I 
 make none now.. If the money you took is 
 any recompense for all the trouble I have 
 given you, you are heartily weleouK! to it." 
 
 " W.ll you shake hands on that V" asked the 
 ca]»tain, with an awkwardness and hesitation 
 strongly at variance with his customary case 
 of manner. 
 
 ]\Iagdalen gave him her hand. lie wrung 
 it hard. " You are a strange girl," he said, 
 trying to speak lightly. " You have laid a 
 hold on me that I don't quite uiulerstand. 
 I 'm Imlf- uncomfortable at taking the money 
 Irom you now, and yet you don't want it, 
 do you V" He hesitated. " I almost wish," 
 he said, " 1 had never met you on the walls of 
 York.' 
 
 " It is too late to wish that, Captain Wragge. 
 Say no more - — you only distress me ; say no 
 more. We have other subjects to talk about. 
 What were those words of caution which you 
 had for my private ear V" 
 
 The captain took another turn in the room, 
 and struggled bark again into his every-day 
 character. He produced from his j)ocket-book 
 Mrs. Lecount's letter to her master, and 
 handed it to Magdahn. 
 
 " There is the letter tliat might have ruined 
 us if it had ever reached its address," he said. 
 " Read it carefully. I have a question to ask 
 you when you have done." 
 
 IMagdalen read the letter. " Wl^at is .this 
 proof," she inquired, " which Mrs. Lecount 
 relies on so confidently ?" 
 
 " The very question I was going to ask 
 you," said Captain Wragge. "Consult your 
 memory of what hapjiened when you tried 
 that experiment in Vauxhall Walk. Did 
 Mrs. Lecount get no other chance against 
 you than the chances you have told me of 
 already ?" 
 
 " She discovered that my face was dis- 
 guised, and she heard me speak in my own 
 voice." 
 
 " And nothing more ?" 
 
 " Nothing more." 
 
 "Very good. Then my interpretation of 
 the letter is clearly the i ight one. The proof 
 Mr.s. Lecount relies on is my wife's infernal 
 <rhost story — which is, in plain English, the 
 storv of Miss Bygrave having bcicn seen in 
 Miss Vanstonc's di.sguise, the witness being 
 the very person who is afterward presented 
 at Aldborough in the character of Miss By- 
 grave'a aunt. An excellent chance for Mrs. 
 
192 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Lecount, if she can only lay her hand at the 
 risrht time on Mrs. Wragge, and no chance at 
 all if she can't. Make your mind easy on that 
 point. Mrs. Lecount and my wife have seen 
 tlie last of each other. In the meantime, 
 don't neglect the warning I give you in giving 
 you this letter. Tear it up for fear of acci- 
 dents, but don't forget it." 
 
 " Trust me to remember it," replied Mag- 
 dalen, destroying the letter while she spoke. 
 " Have you anything more to tell me '?" 
 
 " I have some informacion to give you," said 
 Captain Wragge, " which may be useful, be- 
 cause it relates to your future security. Mind, 
 I want to know nothing about your proceed- 
 ings when to-morrow is over — we settled that 
 Avhen we first discussed this matter. I ask 
 no questions, axxl I make no guesses. All I 
 want to do now is to warn you of your legal 
 position after your marriage, and to leave you 
 to make what use you please of your knowl- 
 edijje at your own sole discretion. I took a 
 lawyer's opinion on the point when I was 
 in London, thinking it might be us(*ful to 
 you." 
 
 " It is sure to be useful. What did tke 
 lawyer say ?" 
 
 " To put it plainly, this is what he said : If 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone ever discovers that you 
 have knowingly married him under a false 
 name, he c 'n apply to the Ecclesiastical Court 
 to liave his marriage declared null and void. 
 The issue of the application would rest with 
 the Judges. But if he could prove that he 
 had been intentionally deceived, the legal 
 opinion is that his case would be a strong 
 one." 
 
 " Suppose I chose to apply on my side V" 
 said Magdalen, eagerly. " VVhat then T' 
 
 " You might make the application," replied 
 the captain. " But remember one thing — 
 you would come into Court with the acknowl- 
 edgment" of your own deception. I leave you 
 to imagine what the Judges would think of 
 that." " 
 
 " Did the lawyer tell you anything else?" 
 
 " One thing beside," said Captain Wragge. 
 " Whatever the law might do with the mar- 
 riage in the lifetime of both the parties to it, 
 on the death of either one of them no appli- 
 cation made by the survivor would avail; 
 and, as to the case of that survivor, the mar- 
 riao-'i would remain valid. You understand ? 
 If he dies, or if you die — and if no application 
 lias been made to the Court — he the survivor, 
 or you the survivor, would have no power 
 of disputing the marriage. But in the life- 
 time of both of you, if he claimed to have the 
 marriage dissolved, the chances are all in 
 favor of his carrying his point." 
 
 He looked at Magdalen with a furtive curi- 
 osity as he said those words. She turned her 
 head aside, absently tying her watch - chain 
 into a loop and untying it again, evidently 
 thinking with the closest attention over what 
 he had last said to her. Captain Wragge 
 
 walked uneasily to the window and looked 
 out. The first object that caught his eye was 
 Mr. Noel Vanjtone approacliiug from Sea- 
 View. He returned instantly to his former 
 place in the room, and addressed himself to 
 Magdalen once more. 
 
 " Here is Mr. Noel Vanstone," he said. 
 " One last caution before he comes in. Be on 
 your guard with him about your age. He put 
 the question to me before he got the License. 
 I took the shortest way out of the dlfliculty, 
 and told him you were twenty-one, and he 
 made the declaration accordingly. Never 
 mind about me; after to-morrow I am invisi- 
 ble. But in your own interests don't forget, 
 if the subject ever turns up, that you are of 
 age. There is nothing more. You are provid- 
 ed with every necessary warning that I can 
 give you. Whatever happens in the future, 
 remember I have done my best." 
 
 He hurried to the door without waiting for 
 an answer, and went out Into the garden to 
 receive his guest. 
 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone made his appearance at 
 the gate, soleniiily carrying his bridal offering 
 to North Shingles with both hands. The ob- 
 ject in question was aa ancient casket (one of 
 his father's bargains); inside the casket reposed 
 an old-fashioned carbuncle brooch set in silver 
 (another of his father's bargains) — bridal pres- 
 ents both, possessing the inestimable merit of 
 leaving his money undisturbed in his pocket. 
 He shook his head portentously when the cap- 
 tain inquired after his health and spirits. He 
 had passed a wakeful night ; ungovernable 
 apprehensions of Lecount's sudden reappear- 
 ance had beset him as soon as he found himself 
 alone at Sea- View. Sea- View was redolent 
 of Lecount : Sea-View (though built on piles, 
 and the strongest house in England) was 
 henceforth odious to him. He had felt this all 
 night ; he had also felt his responsibilities. 
 There was the lady's-maid, to begin with. 
 Now he had hired lier he began to think she 
 wouldn't do. She might fall sick on ins hands ; 
 she might have deceived him by a false char- 
 acter ; she and the landlady of .the hotel might 
 have been in league together. Horrible! 
 Really horrible to think of! Then there was 
 the other responsibility-^— perhaps the heaviest 
 of the two — the responsibility of deciding 
 where he was to go and spend his honey-moon 
 to-morrow. He would have preferred one of 
 his father's empty houses. But except at 
 Vauxhall Walk (which he supposed would be 
 objected to) and at Aldborough (wliieh was, 
 of course, out of the question), all the houses 
 were let. He would put himself In Mr. By- 
 grave's hands. Where had I\tr. Bygrave spent 
 his own honey - moon ? Given the British 
 Islands to choose from, where would Mr. By- 
 grave pitch his tent, on a careful review of all 
 the circumstances ? 
 
 At this point the bridegroom's questions 
 suddenly came to an end, and the bridegroom's 
 face exhibited an expression of ungovernable 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 19S 
 
 astonishment. His judicious friend, whose 
 advice had been at his disposal in every other 
 emergency, suddenly turned round on iiim, in 
 the euiergency of tlie honey-moon, and flatly 
 declined discussing the sul>ject. 
 
 " No ! " said the captain, as Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone opened iiis lips to plead for a hearing, 
 •'you must really excuse me. My point of 
 view in this matter is, as usual, a peculiar 
 one. For some time past I have been living 
 in an atmosphere of deception to suit your i 
 convenience. That atmosphere, my good Sir, 
 is getting close — my Moral Being reipiircs 
 ventilati.n. Settle the choictf of a bcality 
 with my niece, anrl leave me, at my particu- 
 lar retjiiest. in total ignoran(;e on the subject. 
 Mrs. Lecount is certain to come here on her 
 return from Zurich, and is certain to ask me 
 where you are gone. You may think it 
 stianiife, Mr. Vanstonc; but when I say I 
 don't know, I wish to enjoy the unaccustomed | 
 luxury of feeling for once in a way that I am | 
 telling the truth." ' 
 
 AVilth those words he opened the silting-! 
 room door, introduced Mr. Noel Vanstone to | 
 Magdalen's presence, bowed himself out of^ 
 the room again, and set forth alone to while ; 
 away the rest of the afternoon by taking a ' 
 walk. His face siiowed plain tokens of anxi- j 
 ety, and his parti-colored eyes looked hither | 
 and thither distrustfully as he sauntered along 
 the shore. " The time hangs heavy on our 
 hands," thought the captain. " I wish to- 
 morrow was come and gone." 
 
 The day passed and nothing happened ; the 
 evening and the nigiit followed placidly and | 
 uneventfully. Monday came — r a cloudless, 
 lovely day ; Monday confirmed the captain's j 
 assertion that the marriage was a certainty. ; 
 Toward ten o'clock the clerk, ascending the j 
 church-steps, (piotcd the old proverb to the i 
 pew-opener, meeting him under the porch : i 
 " Happy the bride on whom the sun shines! " | 
 
 In a quarter of an hour more the wediling- | 
 
 f)arty was in the vestry, and the clergyman 
 ed the way to the altar. Carefully as the 
 secret of the marria";e had been kept, tl\e 
 opening of the churt-li in the morning had 
 been enough to betray it. A small congrega- 
 tion, almost entirely composed of women, was 
 scattered here and there among the pews. 
 Kirkc's sister and her children were staying 
 with a friend at Aldl>orough, and Kirke's sis- 
 ter was one of the congregation. 
 
 As the wedding-party entered the church 
 the haunting terror of Mrs. Lecount spread 
 from Noel Vanstone to the captain. For the 
 first few minutes the eyes of both of them 
 looked among the women in the pews with 
 the same searching scrutiny, and looked away 
 again with the same sense of relief. The 
 clergyman noticed that look, and investigated 
 the License more closely than usual. The 
 clerk began to doubt privately whether tin 
 old proverb about thfc bride was a proverb 
 25 
 
 to be always depended on. The female mem- 
 bers of the congregation murmured among 
 themselves at the inex'usable disregard of 
 appearances implied in the bride's d'*ess. 
 Kirke's sister whispered venomously in her 
 friend'.s ear, " Thank God for to-day, for 
 Robert's sake I " Mrs. Wragge crii'd silently 
 with the dread of some threatening calamity, 
 she know not what. The one person present 
 who remained outwardly undisturbed was 
 Magdalen herself. She stood with tearless 
 resignation in her place before the altar — 
 stood, as if all the sources of human emo- 
 tion were frozen up within her. What she 
 suffered that mornina she suffered in the se- 
 crecy which no mortal insight can divine. 
 Tlie clergyman opened the Book. 
 
 It was (lone. The awful words which speak 
 from earth to heaven were pronounced, 'i'he 
 children of tW; two dead broihers — inherit- 
 ors of the impliicable enmity which had parted 
 their parents — were Man and Wife. 
 
 From that moment events hurried with a 
 headlong rapidity to the parting scene. They 
 were bick at the house, while the words of 
 the Marriage Service seemed still ringing in 
 their ears. Before they had been five min- 
 utes in-doors the carriage drew up at the gar- 
 den-gate. In a minute more the op[)Oi-tunity 
 came for which Magilalen and the captain 
 had been on the watch — the opportunity of 
 speaking together in private lor the last time. 
 She still preserved her icy resignation — she 
 seemed beyond all reach now of the fear that 
 had once mastered her, of the remorsi^ that 
 had once tortured her to the soul. With a 
 firm hand she gave him the i)romised money. 
 With a firm face she looked her last at him. 
 " I 'm not to blame," he whispered, eagerly; 
 " I have only done what you asked me." She 
 bowed her head — she bent it toward him^ 
 kindly, and let him touch her forehead with 
 his lips. " Take care !" he said. " My last 
 words are, for God's sake take i-are when I 'm 
 gone!" She turned from him with a smile, 
 and spoke her farewell words to his wife. 
 Mrs. Wragge tried hanl to face her loss brave- 
 ly — the loss of the friend whose presence had 
 fallen like light from heaven over the dim 
 pathway of her life. " You have been very 
 LTOod to me, my dear; I thank you kindly, I 
 thank you with all my heart." She could say 
 no morp; she clung to Magdalen in apMSsion 
 of tears, as her mother might have clung to 
 her if her mother had lived to see that horri- 
 ble day. " I 'm frighteneil for you I" cried 
 the poor creature, in a wild, wailing voice. 
 "Oh, my darling, I 'm frightened for you!" 
 Magdalen desperately drew herself free, kiss- 
 ed her, and hurried out to the door. The 
 expression of that artless gratitude, the cry of 
 that guileless love, shook her as nothing else 
 lad shaken her that day. It was a refuge to 
 'ut to the carriage — a refuge, though the man 
 
19-4 
 
 NO xVAME. 
 
 .a'lP h■^''\ married stood tliere waiting for her at 
 the door. 
 
 ^u a. iV'rnsse tried to follow her into the 
 jrai-di'u. Bur the eaptain had seen Majrda- 
 len's lace as she ran out, and he steadil}' held 
 liis wife hack in the passajre. From that dis- 
 taiiee the last farewells were exehanp;eil. As 
 lonjj: as tlie carriage was in sight iM igdalen's 
 faie looked back at them; she waved her 
 iiandkfn-hief as slie turned the corner. In a 
 moment more the last thread which bound her 
 to them was broken ; tin- familiar companion- 
 ship <il' many months was a thing of the past 
 already ! 
 
 Captain Wragge closed the house-(1oor on 
 the iilleis wiio were looking in from the Pa- 
 rade, lie led his wife back into the sitting- 
 room and spoke to her with a forbearance 
 which she had never yet experienced from 
 him. 
 
 " She hns gone her way." he said, '' and in 
 anotlier hour we shall have go|ie ours. Cry 
 vour cry out; I don t deny she's worth crying 
 ibr." 
 
 p>/i'n then — even when the dread of Mag- 
 dah nV future was at its daikest in his mind — 
 the I'nling habit of the man's life clun.n to him. 
 ^le. hanically he unlo' kcd his dispatih-box ; 
 merhanicaily he opened his Book of Accounts, 
 and made the dosing i-ntry — the entry of liis 
 hist transa'tion with Magdalen — in black and 
 white. "By Received iiom Miss Vanstone," 
 wiote tlie 1 apt lin with a gloomy brow, *' Two 
 huii'lreil pounds." 
 
 " You won't be angry with me ?" said Mrs. 
 Wragge, looking timidly at her hust)and 
 througli her tears. " I want a w^ord of com- 
 fort, captain. Oh, do tell me, when shall 
 I si-e her again ?" 
 
 The captaii clo-ed the book, and answered 
 in one inexorable word, 
 
 " Never !" 
 
 Between eleven and twelve o'clock that 
 night Mrs. Le( ount drove into Zurich. 
 
 Her brother's house, when she stopped 
 before it, was shut up. With some diiKcuify 
 and delay the servant was aroused. She held 
 
 ! up her hands in speechless amazement when 
 ' she opened the door, and saw who her visitor 
 ; was. 
 
 " Is my brother alive ?" asked Mrs. Le- 
 count, entering the house. 
 I "Alive!" echoed the servant. " ?Ie has 
 i gone holiday-making into the country to finish 
 
 his recoveiy in the fine i'resh air." 
 
 ! The housekeeper staggered back against 
 
 the wall of the passage. The coachman and 
 
 the servant put her into a chair. Her face 
 
 ! was livid, and her teeth chattered in her 
 
 \ head. 
 
 " Send for my brother's doctor," she said, as 
 ; .soon as she could speak. 
 
 The doctor came in. She handed him a 
 j letter before he <"Ould say a word. 
 
 " Did you write that letter?" 
 I He looked it over rapidly, and answered her 
 
 without hesitation, 
 I '' Certainly not !" 
 [ " It is your handwriting." 
 I " It is a forgery of my handwriting." 
 
 She rose from the chair with a new strength 
 in her. 
 
 " When does the return mail start for 
 Paris ?" she asked 
 " In half an hour." 
 
 " Send instantly and take me a place in it !" 
 The servant hesitated ; the doctor protested. 
 She turned a deaf ear to them both. 
 
 " Send !" she reiterated, "or I will go my- 
 self" 
 
 They obeyed. The servant went to take 
 the place: the doctor remained and held a 
 conversation with Mrs. Lecount. When the 
 half- hour had passed he help'd her into 
 her place in 'the mail, and charged the con- 
 ductor privately to take care of his pas- 
 senger. 
 
 " She has travelled from England without 
 stopping," said the doctor; "and she is trav- 
 elling lack again without rest. Be careful of 
 her, or she will break down under the double 
 journey." 
 
 Tiie mail started. Before the first hour of 
 the new day was at an end Mrs. Lecount wa.s 
 OD her wav back to England. 
 
 THK END OF TIIE FOURTH 8CENF.. 
 
 BETWEEN THE SCENES. ' 
 
 I. . j " ^ ''^^'^ ^^*^" ^'^ Aldborough to try if I 
 
 rnoM GisoTsoE BARTnAj-r to nokl vanstoxk. I could trace you from that place, and have 
 
 ••St. Cnvx, Sept'mber-i l'^47. ! come back as wise as I went. I have applied 
 
 "My dear Nof.l — Here are two plain j to your lawyer in London, and have been told 
 
 cjuestjims at starting. In the name of all that 
 is mysterious, wiiat are you hiding for ? And 
 why is everything relating to your marriage 
 kejit an impenetrable secret from your oldest 
 friends ? 
 
 in reply that you have forbidden him to dis- 
 closH. the place of your retreat to any one 
 without first receiving your permission to do 
 so. All I couM prevail on him to say was 
 that he would forward any letter which might 
 
^'^t iNAMt: 
 
 195 
 
 be sent to his care. 1 write acoordingly. ami, 
 miml this, I expect an answer. 
 
 " Ynu may ask, in your 'ill-tempered way, 
 what business I have to meddle wi h affairs of 
 yours which it is your pleasure to kei-p pri- 
 vate. My dear Noel, there is h serious reason 
 for our opening communications with you from 
 thi.« house. You don't know what events have 
 taken place at St. Cru.\ since you ran away 
 to get married ; and, though I detest writing 
 letters, I must lose an hour's shooting to-day 
 in trying to enlighten you. 
 
 " On the twenty-third of last month the 
 admiral and I were disturbed over our wine 
 after dinner by the announcement tiiat a vis- 
 itor had urie.xpectedly arrived at St. Crux. 
 Who do you think the visitor was V Mrs. 
 LecDunt ! 
 
 " My uncle, with that old-fashioned bach- 
 elor gallantry of his, which pays equal re- 
 spect to all wearers of petticoats, letl llie table 
 directly to welcorai- Mrs. Lecount. While I 
 was debating whether I should follow him or 
 not. my meditations were suddenly brought to 
 an end by a loud call from the admiral. I 
 ran into the morning-room, and there was 
 your unfortunate housekeeper on the sofa, 
 with all the women-servants about her, more 
 dead than alive. She had travelled from Eng- 
 land to Zurich, and from Zurich b;iik again 
 to England, without stopping, and she looked 
 seriously and literally at death's door I im- 
 me<liat«ly cagreed with my uncle thit the first 
 thing to be done was to send for medical help. 
 AVe despatched a groom on the spot, ami at 
 Mrs. liCcount's own recjuest sent all the ser- 
 vants in a body out of the room. 
 
 '• As soon .IS we were alone Mrs. Lecount 
 surprised us by a singular question. She 
 ask id if you had received a letter which she 
 h^d aildressed to you before leaving England, 
 at this house. When we told her that the 
 letti r hail been forwarded, under cover to 
 your friend Air.. Bygrave, by your own par- 
 ticular request, she turned as pale as ashes ; 
 and when we added that you had left us in 
 company with this same ^Ir. Bygrave. she 
 clasped her hands and stared at us as if she 
 had taken leave of her senses. IL r next 
 <pjestion was. ' Wiiere is Mr. Noel now ? ' 
 We coidd only give her one reply : jNIr. Noel 
 had not informed us. S.ie looked perfectly 
 thtinilerstruck at th it answer. ' IL- has gone 
 to his ruin !' slic said. 'He has gone away 
 in (omijany with the greatest villain in Eng- 
 lanil I must find him ! I tell you I must 
 fiml Mr. Noel ! It" I don't find him at once it 
 will i)e too late. He will be married!' she 
 burst out (piite frantically — * on my honor 
 and my oath he will be married . ' The ailmi- 
 ral, incautiously perhaps, but with the best 
 intentions, told her you were married alreaily. 
 She gave a scream tiiat made the windows 
 ring again, and drop|ie«l l)ac k on the sofa in 
 ;i fainting fit. The "foctor came in the ni.k 
 of lime, and soon brought her to. But she 
 
 was taK'ii ill r,iie sune night: she has grown 
 j worse and worse ever sim e, and I lie last m d- 
 I ical report is that the fever from which she 
 j has been suffeiiug is in a fair way to settle on 
 
 her brain. 
 ; " Now, my dear Noel, neither my uncle nor 
 i I have any wish to intrude ourselves on yo^ir 
 j confidence. We are naturally astonished at 
 ! the extraordinary mystery which hangs over 
 1 you and your marriage, and we can not be 
 I blind to the f;ict that your housekeeper has 
 ' apparent y some strong reason of her own for 
 I viewing Mrs. Noel Vanstone with an enmity 
 ! and distrust which we are quite ready to 
 ; believe tliat lady has done nothing to de- 
 ! serve. Whatever strange misunderstanding 
 . there may have been in yo ir household is 
 I your bu.siness (if you choose to keep it to 
 ] yourself), and not ours. All we have any 
 ! right to do is to tell }ou what the doctor says. 
 His patient has been delirious; he dedin'S to 
 ; an>wer for her life if she goes on as she is 
 going on now; and he thinks — finding tliat 
 j she is perpetually talking of her master — 
 that your presence would be useful in (piiet- 
 ing her, if vou could come here at once and 
 I ekert your nifluence before it is too late. 
 I "What clo you say? Will you emerge 
 I from the darkness that surrounds you, and 
 come to St. Crux? If this was the ca.se of 
 I an ordinary servant. I coulil understand your 
 hesitating to leave the delights of your honey- 
 moon for any such object as isj h'^re pmp ised 
 to you But, my dear fellow, Mrs. Lecount is 
 not an ordinary servant. You are under oliii- 
 gations to her fidelity and aitaclnnent in your 
 father's time as well as in your own; and if 
 vou C(in (|uiet the anxieties which seem to be 
 driving tlii.s unfortunate wom m mid. I ri'ally 
 think yon oujlit to come here and <lo so. 
 Your leaving Mrs. Noel Vanstone is of course 
 out of the question. There is no necessity lor 
 any such hard-hearted proceeding. The ad- 
 miral desires me to remind you that he is your 
 oldest frienil living, and that his house is at 
 your wife's disposal, as it has always been at 
 \ours. «In this great rambling-pla e she need 
 dread no near association with the siik-room; 
 and, with all my urn h's oddities, I am sure 
 she will not think the oiler of his fVieiulship 
 an off r to be des|»ised. 
 
 '• Have I told you already that I went to 
 .Aldborough to U\ and find a clew to \our 
 whereabouts':' I can't be at the Iroulile of 
 lookini: back to se. ; so if I have told wiu, I 
 tell vou again. The truth is, I made an ac- 
 (juiiintance at .Aldborough of whom you know 
 someihing, at 1< asl by report. 
 
 " After api)lying vainly at Sea-View, I 
 went to the iiotid to incpiire about \ou. The 
 lanillady could give me no infbrniation ; but 
 the moment I mentioned your name she a>ked 
 it I was rtlated to \ou: and whc I told her 
 I was your cousin, she said tlu-re was a young 
 lady then at the hotel who.se name was Van- 
 stone also, who was iu great distress about a 
 
1D6 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 missinfr relative, and who might prove of some 
 use to mt', or I to her, if we knew of each 
 others errand at Aldborou^rh. I had not the 
 least idea who she was, but I sent in my card 
 at a venture, and in five minutes afterward I 
 found myself in the presence of one of the 
 most charming woman these eyes ever looked 
 on. 
 
 " Our first words of explanation informed 
 me that my family name was known to her by 
 repute. Who do you think she was ? The 
 eldi'fit daughter of my uncle and yours — 
 Andrew Vanstone. I had often heard my 
 poor mother in past years speak of her ijrotheV 
 Andrew, and I knew of that sad story at 
 Combe-Raven. But our families, as you are 
 aware, had always been estranged ; and I had 
 never seen my cliarming cousin before. She 
 has the dark eyes and hair, and the gentle, 
 retiring manners that I always admire in a 
 worn m. I don't want to renew our old disa- 
 greement about your father's conduct to those 
 two sisters, or to deny that his brother An- 
 drew may have behaved badly to him; I am 
 willing to admit that the high moral position 
 he took in the matter is quite unassailable by 
 such a miserable sinner as I am ; and I will 
 not dispute that my own spendthrift habits 
 incapacitate me from offering any opinion on 
 the conduct of other peopl 's pecuniarv af- 
 fairs; But, with all these allowances' and 
 drawbacks, I can tell you one thing, Noel : if 
 you ever see the elder Miss Vansrone, I ven- 
 ture to prophesy that for the first time in j'our 
 life you will doubt the propriety of following 
 your father's example. 
 
 " She told me her little story, poor thing, 
 most simply and unaffectedly. She is now 
 occupying her se -ond s'tuition as a governess, 
 and. as usual, T, who know evei-ybody, know 
 the family. They are friends of my uncle's, 
 whom he his lost sight of latterly — the 
 Tyrrels of Portland Place — and they treat 
 Ms< Vanstone with as much kindness and 
 consiilei arion as if she was a member of the 
 family. One of their old servants accom- 
 panied her to Aid borough, her object in trav- 
 elling to that pLice being what the landlady 
 of the hotel had stated it to be. The family 
 reverses have, it seems, had a serious effect on 
 Miss Vanstone's younger .sister, who has left 
 her friends, and who has been missing from 
 home for some time. She had been last heard 
 of at Aldborough ; and her elder sister, on 
 her return from the Continent with the Tyr- 
 rels, had instantly set out to make inquiries at 
 that place. 
 
 " This was all IMiss Vanstone told me. She 
 asked whether you had seen anything of her 
 sister, or whether Mrs. Lecount knew any- 
 thing of her sister — I suppo.se because she was 
 aware you had been at Aldborough. Of 
 course I could tell her nothing. She entered 
 into no details on the subject, and I could not 
 presume to ask her for any. All I did was to 
 set to work with might and main to assist her 
 
 inquiries. The attempt was an utter failure — 
 nobody could give us any information. We 
 tried personal description, of course ; and, 
 strange to say, the only young la<iy formerly 
 staying at Aldborough who answered the de- 
 scription was, of all the people in the world, 
 the lady you have married ! If she had not 
 had an uncle and aunt (both of whom have 
 L'ft the place),! should have begun to suspect 
 that you had married your cousin without 
 knowing it ! Is this the clew to the mystery ? 
 Don't be angry ; I nmst have my little joke, 
 and I can't help writing as carelessly as I 
 talk. The end of it was, our incjuiries were 
 all baffled, and I travelled back with Miss 
 Vanstone and her attendant as far as our 
 station here. I think I shall call on the 
 Tyrrels when I am next in London. I have 
 certainly treated that family with the most 
 inexcusable neglect. 
 
 " Mere I am at the end of my third sheet 
 of note-paper ! I don't often take the pen in 
 hand, but when I do you will agree Avith me 
 that I am in no hurry to lay it aside again. 
 Treat the rest of my letter as you like, but 
 consider what I have told you about Mrs. 
 Lecount, and remember that time is of con- 
 sequence. 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 " Georgk Bartram." 
 
 II. 
 
 FROM NORAH VANSTONE TO M1S8 OARTH. 
 
 " Portland Placic. 
 
 "My dear Miss Garth — More sorrow, 
 more disappointment! I have just returned 
 from Aldborough without mtiking any discov- 
 ery. Magdalen is still lost to us. 
 
 " I can not attribute this new overthrow of 
 my hopes to any want of perseverance or pen- 
 etration in making the necessary inquiries. 
 ^ly inexperience in such matters was most 
 kindly and unexpectedly assisted by Mr. 
 Geoige Bartram. By a strange coincidence 
 he happened to he at Aldborough inquiring- 
 after Mr. Noel Vanstone at the very time 
 when I was there inquiring after Magdalen, 
 lie sent in his card ; and knowing, when I 
 looked at the name, that he was my cousin — 
 if I may call him so — I thought there would 
 be no impropriety in my seeing him and ask- 
 ing his advice. I abstained from entering 
 into particulars for Magdalen's sake, and I 
 made no allusion to that letter of Mrs. Le- 
 count's which you answered for me. I only 
 told him INIagdalen was missing, and had been 
 last heard of at Aldborough. The kindness 
 which he showed in devoting himself to my 
 assistance exceeds all description. He treated 
 me, in my forlorn situation, with a delicacy 
 and respect which I shall remember gratefully 
 long after he has himself, perhaps, forgotten 
 our meeting altogether. He is (juite young — 
 not more than thirty, I should think. In face 
 and figure he reminded me a little of the 
 portrait of my father at Combe-Raven — I 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 197 
 
 mean the portrait in the dining-room of my 
 father when he was a young man. 
 
 " Useless as our inquiries were, there is one 
 result of I hem wliich has left a very strange 
 and shocking impression on. my mind. 
 
 " It appears that Mr. Noel Vanstone has 
 lately married, under mysterious eircum- 
 stances, a young lady wliom he met with 
 at Aldborougli, naniocl Bygrave. lie has 
 gone away with Iiis wife, telling nobody but 
 his lawyer where he has gone to. This I 
 heard from Mr. George Bartram, who was 
 endeavoring to traee him, for the purpose 
 of communicating the news of his house- 
 keeper's serious illness, the housekeeper being 
 the same Mrs. Lecount whose, letter you an- 
 swered. So far, you may say, there *^ noth- 
 ing which need particularly interest either of 
 us. But I think you will be as much surpriseil 
 as T was when 1 tell you that the descri|)tion 
 given by the people at Aid borough of Miss 
 Bygrave's appearance is most startlingly and 
 unaccountably like the description of Mag- 
 dalen's appearance. This discovery, taken in 
 connection with all the circumstances we 
 know of. has ha<l an pfTcct on my mind which 
 I can not describe to you, which I dare not | 
 realize to myself Pray come and see me ! I 
 I have -never felt so wretclied about Mag- i 
 dalen as I feel now. Suspense must have j 
 weakeneil my nerves in some strange way. I 
 feel superstitious about the slightest things. ' 
 This accidental resemblance of a total .^stranger I 
 to Magdalen fills me, every now and then, } 
 with the most horrible misgivings, morelv | 
 becau.se Mr. Noel Vanstone's nan)e happens 
 to be mixed up with it. Once more, prav , 
 come to me ; I have so much to say to you ' 
 that I can not and dare not .say in writing. i 
 " Gratefully and affectionately yours. ' 
 
 "NORAH." I 
 
 m. * I 
 
 FUOM XIR. JOHN I.OSCOMUB (SOLICITOR) TD GEOROE | 
 
 BARTRAM, ESQ. i 
 
 I 
 "Liscoix's Isx. Lo.vDo.N, StpUmbtr 6, 1847. i 
 
 " Sir — I beg to acknowledge the receipt of! 
 your note inclosing a letter addressed fo mv ' 
 client, .Mr. Noel Vanstone, and requestin": that 
 I will forward the same to Mr. Vanstone's ! 
 present a<ldress. I 
 
 " Since I last had the pleasure of communi- I 
 eating with you on this subject my position 
 toward my client is ei tirely altered. Three ' 
 days ago I received a letter from him wliich | 
 stateil his intention of changing his pla -e of 
 residence on the next day then ensuin;:, but 
 which left me entirely in iirnorance on the 
 subject of the locality fo wlii( h it was his in- 
 tention to remove. I have not heard from him 
 since ; and, as he had previously drawn on me 
 for a larger sum of money than usual, there 
 would be no [.nsent iieeesMty for his writing 
 to me again — assuming that it is his wish to 
 
 keep his place of i-esidence concealed from 
 every one, myself included. 
 
 " Under these circumstances I think it right 
 to return you your letter, with the assurance 
 that I will let you know if I happen to be 
 a<:ain placed in a position to forward it to its 
 destination. 
 
 " Your obedient servant, ■> 
 
 " JoUN LOSCO.MBK." 
 
 IV. 
 
 from norah vanstoxe to mi8h garth. 
 
 " Portland 1»lacl. 
 
 "My dear Miss Garth — Forget the let- 
 ter I wrote to you yesterday, and all the 
 gloomy forebodings that it contains. This 
 morning's post has brought new lit'e to me. I 
 have just received a letter addressed to me at 
 your house, and forwarded here, in your ab- 
 sence fi-om home yesterday, by your sister. 
 Can you gue.ss who the writer is ? Magdalen ! 
 
 " The letter is very short ; it seems to have 
 been written in a hurry. She says she has 
 been dreaming of me for some nights past, and 
 the dreams have made her fear that her long 
 silence has caused me more distress, on her 
 account, than she is worth. She writes, there- 
 fore, to assure me that she is safe and well — 
 that she hopes to see me before long — and that 
 she has something to tell me, when we meet, 
 which will try my sisterly lovc for her as noth- 
 ing has tried it yet. The letter is not dated; 
 but the post-mark is ' Allonby,' which I have 
 found, on referring to the Gazetteer, to be a 
 little sea-side place in Cumberland. There is 
 no hope of my being able to write back; for 
 Magdalen expressly sa\ s that she is on the eve 
 of departure from her present residence, and 
 that she is not at liberty to say where she is 
 going to ne.xt, or to leave instructions for for- 
 warding any letters after her. 
 
 " In happier times 1 should have thought 
 this letter very far from being a satisfactory 
 one — and I should have been seriousl* alarmed 
 by that allusion to a future confidence on her 
 part wliich will try my love for her as nothing 
 has tried it yet. But after all the suspense I 
 have suffered the haj'piness of seeing her hand- 
 writing again seems to fill my heart, and to 
 keej) all other feelings out of it. I lion't send 
 you her letter, because I know you are coming 
 to me soon, and I want to have the pleasure of 
 seeing you read it. 
 
 " Ever aflectionately yours, 
 
 " NORAII. 
 
 " P. S. — Mr. George Bartram called on Mrs. 
 Tyrrel to-day. He insisted on being intro- 
 duced to the children. When he was gone, 
 Mrs. Tyrrel laughed in her good-humored wav, 
 and .said that his anxiety to see the children 
 looked, to her mind, very much like an anxiety 
 to see 7ne. Yon may imagine how mv s[)irits 
 are improved when I can occupy my pen in 
 writing such nouseuse as this!" 
 
1»8 
 
 NO ^Aiui:. 
 
 V. 
 
 moil MRS. LECOPNT TO MU. DE BLEKIOT, GENERAL 
 AGENT, LONDON. 
 
 "St Crux Octr,be7- 23, 1847. 
 
 " Dkau SrR — 1 have been long in thanking 
 ,ou for the kind letter which promised me your 
 assistance, in friendly remembrance of the 
 roipmerei{j^l relations formerly existing between 
 my brother and yourself. The truth is. I have 
 overtasked my strength on my recovery fi'om 
 H long and dangerous illness; and for the last 
 ten days I have been suffering under a relapse. 
 1 am now better again, and able to enter on 
 ilie business which you so kindly offer to un- 
 dertake for me. 
 
 '• The person whose present place of abode 
 It is of the utmost importance to me to discover 
 is IVIr. Noel Vanstone. I have lived for many 
 years past in this gentleman's service as house- 
 Iceeper, and, not having received my formal 
 di-imissal, I consider myself in his service still. 
 During ray absence on the Continent he was 
 privately married at Aldborough, in Suffolk, 
 on the eighteenth of Au;.nist last. Me left 
 Aldborough the s»me day, taking his wife with 
 hira to .«ome place of retreat which was kept a 
 •secret from everybody ex ept his lawyer, Mr. 
 Loscombe, of Lincoln's Inn. After a short 
 time he again removed, on the 4th of Septem- 
 ber, without informing Mr. Loscombe on this 
 occasion of his new place of abode. From 
 chat date to this the lawyer has remained (or 
 has pretended to remain) in total ignorance of 
 where he now is. Application has been made 
 to Mr. Loscombe, under the circumstances, to 
 mention what that former place of residence 
 was of which Mr. Vanstone is known to have 
 informed him. Mr. Loscombe has declineil 
 at'ceding to this refjucst for want of formal 
 permission to disclose his client's proceedings 
 after leaving Aldborough. I have all these 
 latter particulars from ]\Ir. Loscombe's corre- 
 spondent — the nepliew of the gentleman who 
 owns this hou>ie, and whose charity has given 
 me an asylum, during the heavy affliction of 
 my sil•kn^'ss, under his own roof 
 
 " I believe the reasons which have induced 
 Mr. Noel Vanstone to keep himself and his 
 wife in hiding are reasons which relate entire- 
 ly to myself. In the first place, he is aware 
 that the circumstances under which he has 
 married are such as to give me the light of 
 regarding him with a just indignation. In the 
 second place, he knows that my faithful ser- 
 vices, rendered through a period of twenty 
 years, to his father and to himself, forbid him, 
 in common decency, to cast me out hel))lessoM 
 the world without a provision for the end of 
 my life. He is the meanest of living men, 
 and his wife is the vilest of living women. As 
 long as he can avoid fulfilling his obligations 
 to me he will, and his wife's encouragement 
 may be trusted to fortify him in his ingrati- 
 tude. 
 
 " My object in determining to find him out 
 is briefly this : His marriage has exposed him 
 
 to consequences which a man of ten times his 
 courage could not face without shrinking. Of 
 those consequences he knows nothing. His 
 wife knows, and keeps him in ignorance. I 
 know, and can enlighten him. His secui'ity 
 from the danger that threatens him is in my 
 hands alone, and he shall pay the price of his 
 rescue to the last farthing of the debt that 
 justice claims for me as my due — namore and 
 no less. - 
 
 " I have now laiil my mind before you, as 
 you told me, without reserve. You know why 
 I want to find this man,^nd what I mean to 
 do when I find him. I leave it to your sym- 
 pathy for me to answer the serious (juestion 
 that remains. How is the discovery to be 
 made ? ,, If a first trace of them can be found 
 after their departure from Aldborough, I be- 
 lieve careful inquiry will suffice for the rest. 
 The personal appearance of the wife, and the 
 extraordinary contrast between her husband 
 and herself, are certain to be remarked and 
 remembered by every stranger who sees them. 
 
 " When you favor me with your answer, 
 please address it to 'Care of Admiral B ir- 
 tram, St. Crux -in -the -Marsh, near Ossory, 
 Essex.' 
 
 " Your much obliged, 
 
 "ViiiGiNiK Lecount." 
 
 VL 
 
 FROM VR. PE BLERIOT TO MRS. LECOUNT. 
 
 "Dark's Bdtldings. KiNrjsLAND, 
 Octo'ier 25. 1S47. 
 
 [private A>rD CONFIDENTIAL.] 
 
 " Deau Madam — I hasten to reply to your 
 favor of Siturdiy's date. Circum-itances 
 have enabled me to tbrw ird your Interests by 
 consulting a friend of mine po-ssessing great 
 experience in the mimagement of private in- 
 quiries of all sorts. I have placed j'our case 
 before him (wiiliout mentioning names), and 
 I am happy to inform you that my views and 
 his views of the proper course to take agree 
 in. every particular. 
 
 " Both myself and friend, then, are of opin- 
 ion that little or nothing can be done toward 
 tracing thfe parties you mention until the place 
 of their tempoi'ary residence, after they left 
 Aldborough, has been discovered first. If 
 this can be done, the sooner it is done the 
 better. Judging from your letter, some weeks 
 must have passed since the lawyer received 
 his information that they had shifted their 
 quarters. As they ar»i both remarkable-look- 
 ing people, the stringers who may have as- 
 sisted them on their travels have probably not 
 forgotten them yet. Nevertheless, expeditiou 
 is desirable. 
 
 " The question, for you to consider is, 
 whether they maj' not possibly have commu- 
 nicated the address of which we stand in need 
 to some other person besides the lawyer. The 
 husband maj' have written to members of his 
 family, or tiie wife may have written to mem- 
 bers of her family. Both myself and friend 
 
fsTT) NAME. 
 
 199 
 
 are of opinion that the latter chance is the 
 likeliest of the two. If you have any means 
 of access in the direction of the wife's family, 
 -we stronuly recommend you to make use of 
 them. If not, please supply us with the names 
 of' any of her near relations or intimate fe- 
 male .friemls whom you know, and we will 
 endeavor to jjet access for \'ou. 
 
 " In anv case we riHjuest you will at once 
 favor us with the most exact personal di-scrip- 
 tion that can be written of both the parties. 
 AVe may re(inire your as.^istance in this im- 
 
 iiortant particular at five minut s notice, 
 j'avor us. therefore, with the descri|)tion by 
 return of post. In the meantime we will 
 endeavor to ascertain on our siiie whether any 
 information is to be privately obtained at ISIr. 
 Losconibe's oflice. The lawyer himself is 
 proVtably ahoirether beyond our reach. Rut 
 if any one of his clerks can l)e advantap:eous- 
 ly treated with on such terms as may not 
 overtax your pecuniary resources, accept my i 
 assurance that the opportunity shall be made i 
 the most of l)y, i 
 
 " Dear Madam, your faithful servant, 1 
 
 "Alfked Dk Bi.kkiot.'' | 
 
 VII. 
 
 FROM MR. rENnniL TO xonxn vanstont,. 
 
 VSearle Street, October '21. 1847. 
 
 " ]\Iv DKAR Miss V.wsto.vk — A lady, 
 named Lecount (tbrmerly attached to Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone's service in the capacity of 
 housekeeper), has called at my oflice this 
 mornin<r, and has asked me to furnish her 
 with your aildress. I have begged her to ex- 
 cuse my immediate compliance with her re- 
 quest, and to favor me with a call to-morrow 
 morning, when I shall be prepared to meet 
 her with a definite answer 
 
 ." My hesiia'ion in th s matter does not pro- 
 ceed from any distrust of .Mrs. Lecount per- 
 sonally, tor I know nothing wliatever to her 
 ])rcjudice. But in making her re<iu. sr to me 
 «he stated th it the object of the desired inter- 
 view was to speak to you privately on the 
 •subject of your sister. Forgive me f<ir ac- 
 knowledging that I determined to withhohl 
 the address as soon as I heard this. You will 
 make allowances (or your old friend and ycjur 
 sincere well-wisher? You will not take it 
 amiss if I express my strong <lisapproval of 
 your allowing yourself, on any pretense what- 
 ever, to be mixed np for the future with your 
 sister's proceedings. 
 
 " I will not distress you by saving more 
 than this. But I feel too «Jeep an interest in 
 your wtdfare, and too simerc an admiration of 
 tJie patience with which you have borne all 
 ymir trials, to say less. 
 
 *^ W I can not prevail on you to follow my 
 advice, \ou have only to say so. ai d Mrs. Le- 
 count irtiall have your address to morrow. In 
 this case (which I can not contemplate without 
 thfigreatert nowillingness), let me at least rec- 
 
 ommend you to stipulate that Miss Garth 
 should be present at the interview. In any 
 matter with which jour sister is concerned 
 you may want an old friend's advi e and an 
 old friend's protection against your own gener- 
 ous impulses. If I could have helped you in 
 this way I would; but Mrs. Lecount gave me 
 indirectly to understand that the sulycct to 
 be (lis ussed was of too deliiate a nature to 
 permit of my presence. Whaievor this objec- 
 tion may he really worth, it can not apjily to 
 iMiss Garth, who has brought you both' up 
 from childhood. I say again, therefore, if you 
 see Mrs. Lecount, see her in Miss Garth's 
 company. ^ 
 
 "Always most truly yours, 
 
 • -'William Pendrii,." 
 
 VTII. 
 
 FROM NORAH VAXSTO.VB TO MR. rBNDRII.. 
 
 "PoRTiASD Place, H'ecfn«d<i.v. 
 Dkar Mr. PKNDijir,— Pray don't think 1 
 am ungrateful for your kindness. Indeeil, in- 
 deed, I am not! But 1 must see I\Irs. Leconnl. 
 You were not aware, when you wrote to me. 
 that I had received a few lines Irom Mag<la- 
 len — not telling me wliere she is, but holding 
 out the hope of our meeting before long. Per- 
 1 haps Mrs. Lecount may have something to say 
 to me on this very subject? Even if it should 
 not be so, my sister — do what she may — is 
 still my sister. 1 can't desert her; I can't 
 turn my back on any one who comes to me in 
 her name. You know, dear Mr. Pendrii, I 
 have always l>een obstinate on this subject: 
 ami you have always borne with me. Let me 
 owe another ol)ligation to you which I can 
 never retu'n — and f)ear with me still! 
 
 "Need I say that I willingly accept tiiai 
 part of your advice which refers to Miss 
 Garth? I have already written to beg that 
 she will come here at four o'clo -k to-morrow 
 afternoon. When you .«ee Mrs. Lecount. 
 please inform her that Miss Garth will bc 
 with me. and that she will find us both ready 
 to receive her here to-morrow at four o'clock. 
 " Gratefully yours. 
 
 "NuRAIl Vanstone." 
 
 IX. 
 
 rnOM MR. DP BLERIOT TO MRS. LKCOUN'T. 
 
 '•DvnK'g BlILWNCg. October 2S. 
 (rBivAre.j 
 
 "Dear Madam — One of Mr. Loscombe*,-< 
 clerks has prove<l amenable to a small pecu- 
 niary consideration, and has mentioned a cir- 
 cumstance which it may be of some impor- 
 taixe to you to know. 
 
 •' Nearly a month since accident gave th< 
 clerk in question an opportunity of looking in- 
 to one of the documents on histnaster's table, 
 which ha<l attracted his attention from a slight 
 pe. uliaritv in the form and <olorof the paper. 
 He ha<l only time, durin? Mr. Loscombe's mo- 
 mentary absence, to ..satisfy his curiositv bv 
 
2C0 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 lookinjr at the beginning of the document and 
 at the end. At the beginning he saw the 
 customary form used in making a will. At 
 the end he di-covered the signature of Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone, with the names of two wit- 
 nesses underneath, and the date (of which he 
 is quite certain) — the thirtieth of September 
 last. 
 
 '•Before the clerk had time to make any fur- 
 ther investigations his master returned, foi'ted 
 the papers on the table, and carefully locked 
 up the will in the strong box devoted to the 
 custody of Mr. Noel Vanstone's documents. 
 It has been ascertained that at the close of 
 September Mr. Loscombe was absent from the 
 office. If he was then employed in superin- 
 tending the execution of his client's will — 
 which IS quite possible — it follows clearly that 
 he was in the secret of Mr. Vanstone's ad- 
 dress, after the removal of the 4th of Septem- 
 ber ; and if you can do nothing on your side, 
 it may be desirable to have the lawyer watch- 
 ed on ours. In any case it is certainly ascer- 
 tained that Mr. Noel Vanstone has made his 
 will since his marriage. I leave you to draw 
 your own conclusions from that fact, and re- 
 main, in the hope of hearing from you shortly, 
 " Your faithful servant, 
 
 "Alfred De Blekiot." 
 
 PROM MISS OARTH TO Mil. PBNDRIL. 
 
 •'Portland Placb, October 28. 
 
 ''My dear Sir — Mrs. Lecount has just 
 left us. If it was not too late to wish, I should 
 wish from the bottom of ray heart that Norali 
 had taken your advi«e, and had refused to see 
 her. 
 
 " I write in such distress of mind that I can 
 not hope to give you a clear and complete ac- 
 count of the interview. I can only tell you 
 briefly what ISIrs. Lecount has done, and what 
 our situation now is. The rest must be left 
 until I am more composed, and until 1 can 
 speak to you personally. 
 
 " You will remember my informing you of 
 the letter which Mrs. Lecount addressed to 
 Norah from Aldborough, and which I answer- 
 ed for her in iier absence. When Mrs.' Le- 
 count made her appearance to-day', her first 
 words announced to us that she had come to 
 renew the subject. As well as I can remem- 
 ber it, this is what she said, addressing hersell 
 to Norah : 
 
 »" I wrote to you on the subject of your sis- 
 ter, Miss Vanstone, some little time since ; 
 and Miss Garth was so good as to answer the 
 letter. What I feared at that time has come 
 true. Y'our sister has defied all my efforts to 
 check her; she has disappeared in company 
 with my master, Mr. Noel Vanstone; and she 
 is now in a position of danger, which may lead 
 to her disgrace and ruin at a moment's notice. 
 It is my interest to recover ray master; it is 
 your interest to save your sister. Tell rae — 
 
 for time is precious — have you any news of 
 her?' 
 
 " Norah answered, as well as her terror and 
 distress would allow her, ' I have had a letter, 
 but there was no address on it.' 
 
 " Mrs. Lecount asked, ' Was there no post- 
 mark on the envelope V 
 
 " Norah said, ' Yes, Allonby.' 
 
 "'Allonby is better than nothing,' said Mrs. 
 Lecount. 'Allonby may help you to trace her. 
 Where is Allonby?' 
 
 " Norah told her. It all passed in a min- 
 ute. I had been too much confused and star- I 
 tied to interfere before, but I composed myself 
 sufficiently to interfere now. 
 
 " ' You have entered into no particulars,* I 
 said. ' You have only frightened us — you 
 have toM us nothing.' 
 
 " ' You shall hear the particulars, ma'am,' 
 said Mrs. Lecount; 'and you and Miss Van- 
 stone shall judge for yourselves if I have 
 frightened you without a cause.' 
 
 " Upon this she entered at once upon a long 
 narrative, whith I can not — I might almost 
 say, which I dare not — repeat. You will un- 
 derstand the horror we both felt when I tell 
 you the end. If Mrs. Lecount's statement is 
 to be relied on, Magdalen has carried her mad 
 resolution of recovering her father's fortune 
 to the last and most desperate extremity — she 
 has married Michael Vanstone's sou under a 
 false name. Her husband is at this moment 
 still persuaded that her maiden narae was By- 
 grave, and that she is really the niece of a 
 scoundrel who assisted her imposture, and 
 whom I recognize by the description of him 
 to have been Captain Wragge. 
 
 "I spare you Mrs. Lecount's cool avowal, 
 when she rose to leave us, of her own merce- 
 nary motives in wishing to discover her mas- 
 ter and to enlighten him. I spare you the 
 hints she dropped of l^Iagdalen's purpose in 
 contracting this infamous marriage. The one 
 aim and object of my letter is to implore you 
 to assist me in quieting Norah's anguish of 
 mind. Tlie shock she has received at hearing 
 this news of her sister is not the worst result 
 of what has happened. She has persuaded 
 herself that the answers she innocently gave 
 in her distress to Mrs. Lecount's questions on 
 the subject of the letter — the answers wrung 
 from her under the sudden pressure of confu- 
 sion and alarm — may be used to Magdalen'? 
 prejudice by the woman who purposely star- 
 tled her into giving the information. I can 
 only prevent her from taking some desperate 
 step on her side --some step by which she 
 may forfeit the friendship and protection of 
 the excellent people with whom she is now 
 living — by reminding her that if Mrs. Le- 
 count traces her master by means of the post- 
 mark on the letter, we may trace Magdalen 
 at the same time, and by the same means. 
 Whatever objection you may personally feel 
 to renewing the efforts for the rescue of this 
 miserable girl, which failed so lamentably at 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 201 
 
 York, I entreat you, for Norah's sake, to take 
 the same steps now which we took then. 
 Send me tlie only assurance which will quiet 
 her — the assurance, under your own hand, 
 that the search on our side has begun. If 
 you will, do this, you may trust me, when 
 the time comes, to stand between these two 
 sisters, and to defend Norah's peace, charac- 
 ter, and future prosperity, at any price. 
 " Most sincerely yours, 
 
 " HaKKIKT (i.VRTH." 
 
 XI. 
 
 FllOM MRS. LKCOUNT TO MK. JIT. BI.ElllOT. 
 
 " October 28. 
 
 " Dkar Sir — I have found the trace you 
 wanted. Mrs. Noel Van.stone has written to 
 her sister. The letter contains no address; 
 but the post-mark is Allonby, in Cumberland. 
 From Allonby, therefore, the inquiries must 
 beo^in. You have already in your possession 
 the personal description of both husband and 
 wife. I urgently recommend you not to lose 
 one unnecessary moment. If it is possible to 
 send to Cumberland immediately on receipt 
 of this letter, I l)eg you will do so. 
 
 " I have another word to say before I close 
 my letter — a word about the discovery in 
 Mr. Loscombe's office. 
 
 " It is no surprise to me to hear that Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone has made his will since his 
 marriage ; and I am at no loss to guess in 
 whose tiavor the will is made. If 1 succeed in 
 finding my master — let that person get the 
 money, if that person can ! A course to fol- 
 low ill this matter has presented itself to my 
 mind since I received your letter, but my ig- 
 1 norance of details of business and intricacies 
 of law leaves me still uncertain whether my 
 idea is capable of ready and certain execu- 
 I tion. I will call at your office to-morrow at 
 j two o'clock for the purpose of consulting you 
 : on the subject. It is of great importance 
 when 1 next see Mr. Noel Vanstone that he 
 should find me thoroughly prepared beibre- 
 hand in this matter of the will. 
 
 " Your much obliged servant, 
 
 '^ " ViKGINIK LkCOUNT." 
 
 XII. 
 
 FROM MU. PK.NDUIL TO MISS GARTH. 
 
 " Seablk Street, OcUAip.r 29. 
 
 " Dear Miss Garth — I have only a mo- 
 ment to assure you of the sorrow with which I 
 have road your letter. The circumstances 
 under which you urge your request, and the 
 reasons you give for making it, are suflicient 
 to silence any objection I might otiicrwise feel 
 to the course you propose. A trustworthy 
 person, whom I have myself instructed, will 
 26 
 
 start for Allonby to-day ; and as soon as I re- 
 ceive any news from him, you shall hear of it 
 by special messenger. Tell Miss Vanstone 
 this, and pray add the sincere expression of 
 my sympathy and regard. 
 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 
 " William Pendril." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 I' ROM MR. DK 
 
 BLERIOT TO MRS. I.ECOUNT. 
 
 "Dark's Buildings, ynvrmherX. 
 
 "Dear Madam — I have the pleasure of 
 informing you that the discovery has been 
 made with far less trouble than I had antici- 
 pated. 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Noel Vanstone have been 
 traced across the Solway Firth to Dumfries, 
 and thence to a cottage a few miles from the 
 town, on the banks of the Nith. The exact 
 address is, Baliul Cottage, near Dumfries. 
 
 " This information, though easily hunted 
 up, has nevertheless been obtained under 
 rather singular circumstances. 
 
 " Before leaving Allonby, the persons in my 
 employ discovered, to their surprise, that a 
 stranger was in the place pursuing the same 
 inquiry as themselves. In the absence of any 
 instructions preparing them for such an oc- 
 currence as this, they took their own view of 
 the circumstance. Considering the man as 
 an intruder on their business, whose success 
 might deprive tliem of the credit and reward 
 of making the discovery, they took advantage 
 of their superiority in numbers, and of their 
 being first in the field, and carefully misled 
 the stranger before they ventured any further 
 with their own investigations. I am in pos- 
 session of the details of their proceedings, 
 with which I need not trouble you. The end 
 is, that this person, whoever he may be, was 
 cleverly turned back southward, on a false 
 scent, before the men in my employment 
 crossed the Firth. 
 
 " I mention the circumstance, as you may 
 be better able than I am to find a clew to it, 
 and as it may possibly be of a nature to induce 
 you to hasten your journey. 
 
 " Your faithful servant, 
 
 " Alfred De Blkriot." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 FllOM MUS. I.KCOUNT TO MIS. I)K Bl.KRrOT. 
 
 '• Xovcmbtr 1. 
 
 "Dear Sir — One line to say that your 
 letter has just reached mo at my lodging in 
 London. I think I know who sent the strange 
 man to Inquire at Allonby. It matters little. 
 Before he finds out his mistake I shall be at 
 Dumfries. My luggage is packed, and I start 
 lor the North by the next train. 
 " Tour deeply obliged, 
 
 " ViROINIE LeCOUNT.' 
 
•202 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 THE FIFTH SCENE-BALIOL COTTAGE, DUMFRIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Toward eleven o'clock on the morning of 
 the 3d of November the. breakfast- table at 
 Baliol Cottage presented that essentially com- 
 fortless appearance which is caused by a meal 
 in a state of transition — that is to say, by a 
 meal prepared for two persons, which has been 
 already partaken of by one, and which has not 
 yet been approached by the other. It must be 
 a hardy appetite which can contemplate with- 
 out a momentary discouragement the battered 
 ef^w-shell, the tish half-stripped to a skeleton, 
 the crums in the plate, and the dregs in the 
 cup. There is surely a wise submission to those 
 weaknesses in human nature which must be 
 respected and not reproved, in the sympathiz- 
 ing rapidity with which servants in places of 
 public refreshment clear away all signs of the 
 customer in the past from the eyes of the cus- 
 tomer in the present. Although his predeces- 
 sor may have been the wife of his bosom or the 
 child of his loins, no man can find himself con- 
 fronted at table by the traces of a vanished 
 eater without a passing sense of injury in con- 
 nection with the idea of his own meal. 
 
 Some such impression as tliis found its way 
 into the mind of Mr. Noel Vanstone when he 
 entered the lonely breakfast-parlor at Baliol 
 Cottage shortly after eleven o'clock-. He 
 looked at the table with a frown, and rang the 
 bell with an expression of disgust. 
 
 " Clear away this mess !" he said, when the 
 servant appeared. " Has your mistress gone ?" 
 "Yes, Sir — nearly an hour ago." 
 " Is Louisa down stairs '?" 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 " When you have put the table right send 
 Louisa up to me." 
 
 He walked away to the window. The mo- 
 mentary irritation passed from his face, but it 
 left an expression there which remained — an 
 expression of pining discontent. Personally, 
 his marriage had altered him for the worse. 
 His wizen little cheeks Avere beginning to 
 shrink into hollows ; his frail little figure had 
 already contracted a slight stoop. The former 
 delicacy of his complexion had gone — the 
 sickly paleness of it was all that remained. 
 His thin flaxen mustaches were no longer prag- 
 matically waxed and twisted into a curl : their 
 weak, feathery ends hung meekly pendent over 
 the querulous corners of his mouth. If the 
 ten or twelve weeks since his marriage had 
 been counted by his looks, they might have 
 reckoned as ten or twelve years. He stood at 
 the window mechanically picking leaves from 
 a pot of heath placed in front of it, and drear- 
 ily humming the forlorn fragment of a tune. 
 
 The prospect from the window overlooked 
 the course of the Nith, at a bend of the river 
 a few miles above Dumfries. Here and there, 
 through wintry gaps in the wooded bank, 
 broad tracts of the level, cultivated valley met 
 the eye. Boats passed on the river, and carts 
 plodded along the high-road on their way to 
 Dumfries. The sky was clear ; the November 
 sun shone as pleasantly as if the year had been 
 younger by two good mouths ; and the view, 
 noted in Scotland for its bright and peaceful 
 chai'm, was presented at the beat which its 
 wintry aspect could assume. If it had been 
 hidden in mist or drenched with rain, Mr. 
 Noel Vanstone would, to all appearance, have 
 found it as cittractive as he found it now. He 
 waited at the window until he heard Jvouisa's 
 knock at the door— then turned back sullenly 
 to the breakfast-table and told her to come in. 
 
 " Make the tea," he said. " I know nothing 
 about it. I 'm left here neglected. Nobody 
 helps me." 
 
 The discreet Louisa silently and submissive- 
 ly obeyed. 
 
 " Did your mistress leave any message for 
 me," he asked, " before she went away V" 
 
 " No message in particular, Sir. My mis- 
 tress only said she should be too late if she 
 waited breakfast any longer." 
 
 " Did she say nothing else ?" 
 
 " She told me at the carriage-door. Sir, that 
 she would most likely be back by the end of 
 the week." 
 
 " Was she in good spirits at the carriage- 
 door?' 
 
 " No, Sir. I thought my mistress seemed 
 very anxious and uneasy. Is there anything 
 more I can do, Sir '?" 
 
 " I don't know. Wait a minute." 
 
 He proceeded discontentedly with his break- 
 fast. Louisa waited resignedly at the door. 
 
 " I think your mistress has been in bad 
 spirits lately," he resumed, with a sudden out- 
 break of petulance. 
 
 " My mistress has not been verv cheerful. 
 Sir." 
 
 " What do you mean by not very cheerful ? 
 Do you mean to prevaricate ? Am I nobody 
 in the house '? Am I to be kept in the dark 
 about everj'thing ? Is your mistress to go away 
 on her own affairs and leave me at home like 
 a child, and am I not even to ask a question 
 about her ? Am I to be prevaricated with by 
 a servant ? I won't be prevaricated with ! 
 Not very cheerful ! What do you mean by 
 not very cheerful ?" 
 
 " I only meant that my mistress was not In 
 good spirits. Sir." 
 
 " Why couldn't you say it, then ? Don't 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 203 
 
 you know the value of words? The mp8t 
 dreadful consequences sometimes happen frOm 
 not knowing the value of words. Did your 
 mistress tell you she was going to London ?" 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 " What did you think when your mistress 
 told you she was going to London ? Did you 
 think it odd she was going without me ?" 
 
 " [ did not presume to think it odd. Sir. Is 
 there anything more 1 can do for you, if you 
 please, Sir V 
 
 " Wliat sort of a morning is it out ? Is it 
 warm V Ts the sun on the garden ?" 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 " Have you seen the sun yourself on the 
 garden V" 
 '• Yes, Sir." 
 
 "Get me my great-coat; I'll take a little 
 turn. Has the man brushed it ? Did you see 
 the man brush it yourself? What do you 
 mean by saying he has brushed it. when you 
 didnt see him? Let me look at the tails. 
 Tf there 's a speck of dust on the tails I '11 
 turn the man off! Help me on with it." 
 
 Loiu'sa helped him on with his coat, and 
 gave him his hat. He went out irritably. 
 The coat was a large one (it had belougi'd 
 to his father) ; the hat was a large one (it 
 was a misfit, purchased at a bargain by him- 
 self). He was submerged in his hat and 
 coat; he lookcil singularly small, and frail, 
 and niiscral'le, as he slowly wended his wa}', 
 in the wintry sunligiit, ddv-n the garden- 
 walk. Tlie patli sloped gently from the back 
 of the house to Ihe water-side, irom which 
 it was parted by a low wooden fence. After 
 pacing backward and forward slowly ibr some 
 little time, he stopped at the lower extremity 
 of the garden, and, leaning on the fence, 
 looked down listlessly at the smooth flow of 
 the river. 
 
 His thoughts still ran on the subject of his 
 first fretful question to Louisa — he was still 
 broodinii over the circumstances under which 
 his wife had left the cottage that morning, 
 and over the want of consideration toward 
 liimself implied in the manner of her depart- 
 ure. The longer he thought of his grievance 
 the more acutely he resented it. He was 
 capable of'grcat tenderness of feeling where 
 any injury to his sense of his own importance 
 was concerned. His head dropped little by 
 little on his arms as they rested on the fence; 
 and, in the deep sincerity of his mortification, 
 he sighed bitterly. 
 
 The sigh was answered by a voice close at 
 his side. 
 
 " You were happier with me, Sir," said the 
 voice, in accents of tender regret. 
 
 He looked uj) with a scream — literally with 
 a scream — and confronted Mjjs. Lecount. 
 
 Was it the spectre of the woman, or the 
 woman herself? Her hair was white; her 
 
 dress hung loose round her wasted figure ; not 
 a trace of its buxom autumnal beauty re- 
 mained. The qtiietly impenetrable resolution, 
 the smoothly insinuating voice — these were 
 the only relics of the past which gickuess and 
 suffering had left in Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 " Compose yourself, Mr. Noel," she said, 
 gently. " You have no cause to be alarmed 
 at seeing me. Your servant, when I inquired, 
 said you were in the garden, and I came here 
 to find you. I have traced you out, Sir, with 
 no resentment against yourself, with no wish 
 to distress you by so much as the shadow of a 
 reproach. 1 come here on what has been, 
 and is still, the business of nn- life — your 
 service." 
 
 He recovered himself a little, but he was 
 still incapable of speech. He held fast by the 
 fence, and stared at her. 
 
 " Try to possess your mind. Sir, of what I 
 say," proceeded IVIrs. Lecount. " I have not 
 come here as your enemy, but as your friend. 
 I have, been tried by sickness ; 1 have been 
 tried by distress. Nothing remains of me but 
 my heart. My heart forgives you ; my heart, 
 in your sore need — need which you have yet 
 to feel — places nie at your service. Take my 
 arm, Mr. Noel. A little turn in the sun will 
 help you to recover yourself." 
 
 She put his hand through her arm and 
 marched him slowly up the garden -walk. 
 Before she had been five minutes in his com- 
 pany she had resumed full possession of him 
 in her own right. 
 
 "Now down again, Mr. Noel," she said; 
 " gefttly down again in this fine sunlight. I 
 have much to say to you, Sir, which you never 
 e.xpected to hear from me. Let me ask a 
 little domestic (juestion first. They told me 
 at the house -do'or Mrs. Noel Vanstone was 
 gone away on a journey. Has she gone for 
 long ?" 
 
 Her master's hand trembled on her arm as 
 she put that question. Instead of answering 
 it he tried faintly to plead for himself. The 
 first words that escaped him were prompted 
 by his first returning sense — the sense that 
 his housekeeper had twjcen him into cus- 
 tody. He tried to make his peace v,?ith Mrs. 
 Lecount. 
 
 " I always meant to do something for you," 
 he said, coaxingly. " You would have heard 
 from me before long — upon my word and 
 honor, Lecount, you would have heard from 
 me before long !" 
 
 " I don t doubt it. Sir," replied Mrs. le- 
 count. " But for the present never mind 
 about me. You and your interests first." 
 
 «' How did you come here ?" he asked, look- 
 ins Jit 'i"" '" astonishment. " How came you 
 to find me out?" 
 
 " It is a long story, Sir ; I will tell it you 
 some other time. Let it be enough to say 
 
 face had fallen away ; her eyes looked out I now that I have found you. Will Mrs. Noel 
 large, bright, and haggard over her hollow be back again at the house to-day ? A little 
 cheeks. She was withered and old. Her louder, Sir ; I can hardly hear you. So! so! 
 
204 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Not back again till the end of the -week ! 
 And where is she gone? To London, did 
 you say ? And what for ? I am not inquisi- 
 tive, Mr. Noel ; I am asking serious questions 
 under serious necessity. Why has your wife 
 left you here, and gone to London by her- 
 self?" ^ 
 
 They were down at the fence again as she 
 made that last inquiry, and they waited, lean- 
 ing against it, while Noel Vanstone answei-ed. 
 Her reiterated assurances that she bore him 
 no malice were producing their effect on him : 
 he was beginning to recover himself The 
 old, helpless habit of addressing all his com- 
 plaints to his housekeeper was returning al- 
 ready with the reappearance of Mrs. Lecount 
 —returning insidiously in company with that 
 besetting anxiety to talk about his grievances 
 which had got the better of him at the break- 
 fast-table, and which had shown the wound 
 iHflicted on his vanity to his wife's maid. 
 
 " I can't answer for Mrs. Noel Vanstone," 
 he said, spitefully. " Mrs. Noel Vanstone has 
 not treated me with the consideration which 
 is my due. She has taken my permission for 
 granted, and she has only thought proper to 
 tell me that the object of herjourney is to 
 see her friends in London. She went away 
 this morning without bidding me good -by. 
 She takes her own way, as if I was nobody ; 
 she treats me like a child. You may not be- 
 lieve it, Lecount ; but I don't even know who 
 her friends are. I am left quite in the dark ; 
 I am left to guess for myself that her friends 
 in London are her uncle and aunt." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount privately considered* the 
 question by the help of her own knowledge 
 obtained in London. She soon reached the 
 obvious conclusion. After writing to her sis- 
 ter in the first instance, Magdalen had now in 
 all probability followed the letter in person. 
 There was little doubt that the friends she 
 had gone to visit in London were her sister 
 and Miss Garth. 
 
 " Not her uncle and aunt. Sir," resumed 
 Mrs. Lecount, composedl3\ " A secret for 
 your private ear ! She has no uncle and 
 aunt. Another little turn before I explain 
 myself — another little turn to compose your 
 spirits." 
 
 She took him in custody once more, and 
 marched him back toward the house. 
 
 " Mr. Noel !" she said, suddenly stopjiing in 
 the middle of the walk — " do you know what 
 was the worst mischief j'ou ever did yourself 
 in your life ? I will tell you. That worst 
 mischief was sending me to Zurich." 
 
 His hand began to tremble on her arm once 
 more. 
 
 " I didn't do it !" he cried, piteously. " It 
 was all Mr. Bygrave." 
 
 " You acknowledge. Sir, that Mr. Bygrave 
 deceived me f" proceeded Mrs. Lecount. "I 
 am glad to hear that. You will be all the 
 readier to make the next discovery which is 
 waiting for you — the discovery that Mr. By- 
 
 grave has deceived you. He is not here t* 
 slip through my fingers now, and I am not the 
 helpless woman in this place that I was at 
 Aldborough, thank God !" 
 
 She uttered that devout exclamation through 
 her set teeth. All her hatred of Captain 
 Wragge hissed out of her lips in those two 
 words. 
 
 " Oblige me, Sir, by holding one side of my 
 travelling-bag," she resumed, " while I open 
 it and take something out." 
 
 The interior of the bag disclosed a series of 
 neatly-folded papers, all laid together in order, 
 and numbered outside. Mrs. Lecount took 
 out one of the papers, and shut up the bag 
 i;cain with a loud snap of the spring that 
 closed it. 
 
 " At Aldborough, Mr. Noel, I had only my 
 own opinion to support me," she remarked. 
 "My own opinion was nothing against Mis« 
 Bygrave's youth and beauty and Mr. By- 
 grave's ready wit. I could only hope to 
 attack your infatuation with proofs, and at 
 that time I had not got them. I have got 
 them now ! I am armed at all points with 
 proofs; I bristle from head to foot with proofis; 
 I break my forced silence, and speak with the 
 emphasis of my proofs. Do you know this 
 writing. Sir ?" 
 
 He shrank back from the paper which she 
 offered to him. 
 
 " I don't understand this," he said, nervous- 
 ly. " I don't know what you want, nor what 
 you mean." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount forced the paper into his 
 hand. " You shall know what I mean, Sir, if 
 you will give me a moment's attention," she 
 said. " On the day after you went away to 
 St. Crux I obtained admission to Mr. By- 
 grave's house, and I had some talk in private 
 with Mr. Bygrave's wife. That talk supplied 
 me with the means to convince you which I 
 had wanted to find for weeks and weeks past. 
 I wrote you a letter to say so ; I wrote to tell 
 you that I would forfeit my place in your ser- 
 vice, and my expectations from your generos- 
 ity, if I did not prove to you when I came 
 back from Switzerland that my own private 
 suspicion of Miss Bygrave was the truth. I 
 directed that letter to you at St. X^rux, and I 
 posted it myself Now, Mr. Noel, read the 
 paper which I have forced into your hand. It 
 is Admiral Bartram's wi'itten affirmation that 
 my letter came to St. Crux, and that he in- 
 closed it to you, under cover to Mr. Bygrave, 
 at your own request. Did Mr. Bygrave ever 
 give you that letter ? Don't agitate yourself. 
 Sir! One word of replv will do — Yes? or 
 No?" 
 
 He read the paper, and looked up at hex- 
 with growing bewilderment and fear. She 
 obstinately waited until he spoke. " No," he 
 said, faintly ; " T never got the letter." 
 
 " First jiroof !" said Mrs. Lecount, taking 
 the paper from him and putting it back in the 
 bag. " Once more, with your kind permission, 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 S05 
 
 before we come to things more serious still. I 
 gave you a written description, Sir, at Aldbor- 
 ough, of a pej-son not named ; and I asked 
 you to compare it with Miss Bygravc the next 
 time you Avere in her company. After haying 
 first shoM'n the description to Mr. Bygi-ave — 
 it is useless to deny it now, Mr. Noel, your 
 friend at North Shingles is not here to help 
 you! — after having first shown my note to 
 Mr. Bygrave, you made the comparison, and 
 you found it fail in the most important partic- 
 ular. There were two ^ittIe moles placed 
 (doso to<rcther on the left side of the neck, in 
 my descriptioii of the unknown lady, and 
 there wci-e no little moles at all when you 
 lonke<l at Miss Bygrave's neck. I am old 
 enough to be your mother, Mr. Noel. If the 
 (juestion is not indelicate, may I ask what the 
 present state of your knowledge is on the sub- 
 ject of your wife's neck V" 
 
 She looked at him with a merciless steadi- 
 ness. He drew back a few steps, cowering 
 under her eye. " I can't say," he stammered; 
 "I don't know. What do you mean by these 
 questions ? I never thought about the moles 
 aftei'ward ; 1 never looked. She wears her 
 hair low — " 
 
 " She has excellent reason to wear it low, 
 Sir," remarked Airs. Lecount. "We will try 
 and lift that hair before we have done with 
 the subject. When I came out here to find 
 you in the garden, I saw a neat young person 
 through the kitchen window, witli her work 
 in her hand, Avho looked to my eyes like a 
 lady's-maid. Is this young pei'son your wife's 
 maid? I beg your pardon, Sir, did you say 
 yes y In that case, another question, if you 
 please. Did you engage her, or did your 
 wife V" 
 
 " I engaged her — " 
 
 "While i was away? While I was in total 
 ignorance that you meant to have a wife, or a 
 wife's maid V" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Under those circumstances, Mr. Noel, you 
 can not possibly suspect me of conspiring to 
 deceive yon, with the maid for my instrument. 
 Go into the house, Sir, while I wait here. 
 Ask the woman who dresses Mrs. Noel Van- 
 stone's hair, morning and night, whether her 
 mistress has a mark on tlie lefl side of her 
 neck, and (if so) what that mark is?" 
 
 He walked a few steps toward the house 
 witliout uttering a word, then stopped and 
 looked V)ack at Mrs. Lecount. His blinking 
 eyes were steady, and his wizen face had be- 
 come suddenly I om]X)sed. Mrs. Lecount ad- 
 vanced a little atid joined him. She saw the 
 change ; but with all her experience of him 
 she failed to interpret the true meaning of 
 it. 
 
 "Are you in want of a pretense. Sir," she 
 asked. "Are you at a loss to account to you# 
 wife's maid for such a question as I wish you 
 to put to her. Pretenses are easily found 
 which will do for persons in her station of life. 
 
 Say I have come here with news of a legacy 
 for Mrs. Noel Vanstone, and that there is a 
 question of her identity to settle before she 
 can receive the money." 
 
 She pointed to the hou.se. He paid no at- 
 tention to the sign. His face grew paler and 
 paler. Without moving or speaking he stood 
 and looked at her. 
 
 "Are you afraid ?" asked Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 Those words roused him ; those woi'ds lit a 
 spark of the fire of manhood in him at last. 
 He turned on her like a sheep on a dog. 
 
 " I won't be questioned and ordered I" he 
 broke out, trembling violently under the new 
 sensation of his own courage. " I won't be 
 threatened and mystified any longer I How 
 did you find me out at this place? What do 
 you mean l)y coming here with your hints and 
 your mysteries? What have you got to say 
 against my wife ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lecount composedly opened the trav- 
 elling-bag and took out her smelling-bottle, in 
 ffase of emergency. 
 
 " You have spoken to me in plain words," 
 she said. " In plain words. Sir, you shall 
 have your answer. Are yon too angry to 
 listen ?" 
 
 Her looks and tones alarmed him, in spite 
 of himself His courage began to sink again; 
 and, desperately as he tried to steady it, his 
 voice trembled when he answered her. 
 
 " Give me my answer," he said, " and give 
 it at once." 
 
 " Your commands shall be obeyed, Sir, to 
 the letter," replied Mrs. Lecount. " I have 
 come here with two objects. To open your 
 eyes to your own situation ; and to save your 
 fortune — perhaps your life. Your situation 
 is this : Miss Bygrave has married you under 
 a false character and a false name. Can you 
 rouse your memory ? Caji you call to mind 
 the disguised woman who threatened you in 
 Vauxhall Walk? That woman — as certainly 
 as I stand here — is now your wife." 
 
 He looked at her in breathless silence. Ilis 
 lips falling apart; his eyes fixed- in vacant in- 
 quiry. The suddenness of the disclosure had 
 overreached its own end. It had stupefied 
 him. 
 
 " My wife ?" he repeated — and burst into 
 an imbecile laugh. 
 
 "Your wife!" reiterated Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 At the repetition of those two words the 
 strain on his faculties relaxed. A thought 
 dawned on him for the fir.st time. His eyes 
 fixed on her with a furtive alarm, and he 
 drew back hastily. "Mad!" he said to him- 
 self with a sudden remembrance of what his 
 friend Mr. Bygrave had told him at Aldbor- 
 ough, sharpened by his own sense of the hag- 
 gard change that he saw in her face. 
 
 He spoke in a whisper; but Mrs. Lecount 
 heard liim. She was close at his .side again in 
 an instant. For the first time her self-posses- 
 sion failed her, and she caught him angrily by 
 the arm. 
 
206 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 "Will you put my madness to the proof, 
 Sir?" she asked. 
 
 He shook off her hold ; he began to gather 
 courage again, in the intense sincerity of his 
 disbelief— courage to face the assertion which 
 she persisted in forcing on him. 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " What must I do ?" 
 
 " Do what I told you," said Mrs. Lecount. 
 "Ask the maid that question about her mis- 
 tress on the spot. And if she tells you the 
 mark is there, do one tiling more. Take me 
 up into your wife's room, and open her ward- 
 robe in my presence with your own hands." 
 
 " What do you w«nt with her wardrobe ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " You shall know when you open it." 
 
 •'Very strange !' he said to himself, vacant- 
 ly. " It 's like a scene in a novel — it 's like 
 nothing in real life." 
 
 He went slowly into the house, and Mrs. 
 Lecount waited lor him in the garden. 
 
 After an absence of a few minutes only he 
 appeared again on the top of the flight of steps 
 which led into the garden from the house. He 
 held by the iron rail with one hand, while 
 with the other he beckoned to Mrs. Lecount 
 to join liim on the steps. 
 
 " What does the maid say ? " she asked, as 
 she approached him. " Is the mark there ? " 
 
 He answered in a whisper, " Yes." What 
 he had heard from the maid had produced a 
 marked change in him. The horror of the 
 coming discovery had laid its paralyzing hold 
 on his mind. He moved mechanically; he 
 looked and spoke like a man in a dream. 
 
 " Will you take my arm. Sir ? " 
 
 He shook his head ; and, preceding her 
 along tlie passage and up the stairs, led the 
 way into his wife's room. When she had 
 joined him and locked the door he stood pas- 
 sively waiting for his directions, without mak- 
 ing any remark, without showing any external 
 appearance of surprise. He ha<l not removed 
 either his hat or coat. Mrs. Lecount took 
 them off for him. " Thank you," he said, 
 with the docility of a well-trained child. 
 " It 's like a scene in a novel — it 's like noth- 
 ing in real life." 
 
 The bedchamber was not very large, and 
 the furniture was heavy and old-fashioned. 
 But evidences of Magdalen's natural taste 
 and refinement were visible everywhere in 
 the little embellishments that graced and en- 
 livened the aspect of the room. The perfume 
 of dried rose leaves hung fragrant on the cool 
 air. Mrs. Lecount sniffed the perfume with 
 a disparaging frown, and threw the window 
 up to its full height. '' Pah ! " she said, with 
 a shudder of virtuous disgust, "the atmos- 
 phere of deceit !" 
 
 She. seated herself near the window. The 
 wardrobe stood against the wall opposite, and 
 the bed was at the side of the room on her 
 right hand. " Open the wardrobe, Mr. Noel," 
 she said. " I don't go near it, I touch nothing 
 in it myself. Take out the dresses with your 
 
 own hand, and put them on the bed. Take 
 them out, one by one, until I tell you to 
 stop." 
 
 He obeyed her. " I 'II do it as well as 1 
 can," he said. " My hands are cold, and my 
 head feels half-asleep." 
 
 The dresses to be removed were not many, 
 for Magdalen had taken some of them away 
 with her. After he had put two dresses on 
 the bed he was obliged to search in the inner 
 recesses of the wardrobe before he could find 
 a third. When he produced it, Mrs. Lecount 
 made a sign to him to stop. The end was 
 reached already — he had found the brown 
 Alpaca dress. 
 
 " Lay it out on the bed. Sir," said -Mrs. Le- 
 count. *' You will see a double flounce run- 
 ning round the bottom of it. Lift up the 
 outer flounce, and pass the inner one through 
 your fingers, inch by inch. If you come to a 
 place where there is a morsel of the stuff 
 missing, stop, and look up at me." 
 
 He passed the flounce slowly through his 
 fingers for a moment or more, then stopped 
 and looked up. Mrs. Lecount produced her 
 pocket-book and opened it. 
 
 " Every word I now speak, Sir, is of serious 
 consequence to you and to me," she said. 
 " Listen with your closest attention. When 
 the woman calling herself Miss Garth came 
 to see us in Vauxliall Walk, I knelt down be- 
 hind the chair on which she was sitting, and I 
 cut a moT'sel of stuff from the dress she wore, 
 which might help me to know that dress if I 
 ever saw it again. I did this while the 
 woman's whole attention was absorbed in talk- 
 ing to you. The morsel of stuff has been 
 kept in my pocket-book from that time to this. 
 See for yourself, Mr. Noel, if it fits the gap in 
 that dress which your own hands have just 
 taken from your wife's wardrobe." 
 
 She rose and handed him the fragment of 
 stuff across the bed. He put it into the va- 
 cant space in the flounce as well as his trem- 
 bling fingers would let him. 
 
 " Does it fit. Sir ? " asked Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 The dress dropped from his hands, and the 
 deadly bluish pallor — which every doctor 
 who attended him had warned his housekeep- 
 er to dread — overspread his face slowly. 
 Mrs. Lecount had not reckoned on such an 
 answer to her question as she now saw in his 
 cheeks. She hurried round to him, with the 
 smelling-bottle in her hand. He dropped to 
 his knees, and caught at her dress with the 
 grasp of a drowning man. " Save me ! " he 
 gasped, in a hoarse, breathless whisper. " Oh, 
 Lecount, save me ! " 
 
 "I promise to save you," said Mrs. Lecount; 
 " I am here with the means and the resolution 
 to save you. Come away from this place — 
 come nearer to the air." She raised him as 
 she spoke, and led him across the room to the 
 window. " Do you feel the chill pain again 
 on your left side ? " she asked, with the firet 
 signs of alarm that she had shown yet. " Has 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 8(»t 
 
 your wife got any can de Cologne, any sal-vol- 
 atile in her room '^ Don't exhanst yourself by 
 ppeaking — point to the place." 
 
 He pointed to a little triangular cupboard 
 of old worm-eaten walnut wood, fixed high in 
 a corner of tiie room. Mrs. Leeount tried 
 the door : it was locked. 
 
 As she made that discovery she saw his 
 head sink back gradually on tlie easy-chair in 
 which she had placed him. The warning of 
 the doctor in past years — " If yon ever let, 
 him faint, you let him die" — recurred to her 
 memory as if it liad been spoken the day 
 before. She looked at tlie eujiboard again. 
 In a recess under it lay some ends of conl, 
 placed there apparently for pnr[)oses of pack- 
 ing. Without an instant's hesitation she 
 -snatched up a morsel of i-ord, tied one end 
 fast round the knol) of the cupboard door, and, 
 seizing the otlier end in both hands, pulled 
 it su(idenly with the exertion of her whole 
 strength. The rotten wood gave way, the 
 cupboard-doors Hew open, and a heap of lit- 
 tle trilles poured out noisily on the (lour. 
 Without sto})ping to notice the broken china 
 and glass at her I'eet, she looked into the dark 
 recesses of the cupboard, and saw the gleam 
 of two glass bottles. One was put away at 
 the extreme back of the shelf; the other was 
 a little in advance, almost hiding it. She 
 snatched them both out at once, and took 
 them, one in each hand, to the window, where 
 she could read tlieir labels in the clearer light. 
 
 The bottle in her right han<l was the first 
 bottle she looked at. It was marked — Sal- 
 voluiile. 
 
 She instantly laid the other bottle aside on 
 the table without looking at it. The other 
 bottle lay there waiting its turn. It held a 
 dark liquid, and was labelled — Poisox. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ]\Irs.- Leeount mixed the sal -volatile with 
 water, and administered it inmiediately. The 
 stimulant had its eiiect. In a few minutes 
 Noel Vanstone was able to raise himself in 
 the chair without assistance : his color changed 
 again for the better, and his breath came and 
 went more freely. 
 
 " IIow do you feel now. Sir ?" asked Mrs. 
 Leeount. •' Are you warm again on your 
 left side V" 
 
 He paid no attention to that intpiiry; his 
 eyes, wandering aJ)out the room, turned by 
 clianoe toward the table. To Mrs. Lecount's 
 surprise, instead of answering her he bent 
 forward in his chair, an<l looked with staring 
 eyes and pointing hand at the second bottle 
 which she had taken from tlie cupboard, and 
 which she had hastily laid aside, without pay- 
 ing attention to it. Seeing that some new 
 alarm po.'^sessed him, she advanced to the 
 table, and looked where he looked. The la- 
 
 belled side of the bottle was full in view ; and 
 there, in the plain handwriting of the chem- 
 ist at Aldborough, was the one startling word, 
 confronting them both, " Poison." 
 
 Even Mrs. Lecount's self-possession was 
 shaken by that discovery. She was not pre- 
 pared to see her own darkest forebodings — 
 the acknowledged offspring of her hatred for 
 Magdalen — realized as she saw them real- 
 ized now. The suicide-despair in which the 
 )H)ison had been procured, the suicide-purpose 
 tor which, in distrust of the future, the poison 
 had been kept, had brought with them their 
 own retribution. There the bottle lay, in 
 Magdalen's absence, a false witness of treason 
 which had never entered her mind — treason 
 against her husband's life ! 
 
 With his hand still mechanically pointing 
 at the table, Noel Vanstone raised his head 
 and looked up at Mrs. Leeount. 
 
 " I took it i'rom the cupboard," slie said, 
 answei-ing the. look. " I took both bottles 
 out together, not knowing -\vhich might be 
 the bottle I wanted. I am as much shocked, 
 as nmch frightened, as you are." 
 
 " Poison !' he said to liimself, slowly. " Poi- 
 son locked up by my wite, in the cupboard in 
 her own room." He sto[)ped, and looked at 
 Mrs. Leconnt once more. "For mef" he 
 asked, in a vacant, inquiring tone. 
 
 " We will not talk of it. Sir, until your 
 mind is more at ease," said Mrs. Leeount. 
 " In the meantime, the danger that lies in 
 waiting in this bottle shall be a danger de- 
 stroyed in your presence." She took out the 
 cork and threw the laudanum out of win- 
 dow, and the empty bottle after it. " Let us 
 try to forget' this dreadful discovery for the 
 present," she resumed ; " let us go down stairs 
 at once. All that 1 have now to say to you 
 can be said in another room." 
 
 She helped him to rise from the chair, and 
 took his arm in her own. " It is well tor him, 
 it is well for me," she thought, as they went 
 down stairs together, "that I came when I 
 did." 
 
 On cros.sing the passage she stepped to the 
 front door, where the carriage was waiting 
 which had brought her from Dumfries, and 
 instructed the coachman to put up his horses 
 at the nearest inn, afid to call again for her in 
 two hours time. Tiiis done, she ciccompanieJ 
 Noel Vanstone into the sitting-room, stirred up 
 the fire, and placed him bet'ore it comfortably 
 in an easy-chair. He sat for a few minutes, 
 warming his hands feebly like an old man, 
 and staring straight into the flame. Then he 
 spoke. 
 
 " When the woman came and threatened me 
 in Vauxhall Walk," he began, still staring into 
 the fire, " you came back to the ])arlor, after 
 she was gone, and you told me — ?" He 
 stopped, shivered a little, and lost the thread 
 of his recollections at that point. 
 
 " I told you, Sir,'^ said Mrs. Leeount, " that 
 the woman was, in my opinion, Miss Vanstone 
 
208 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 herself. Don't start, Mr. Noel ! Your wife is 
 away, and I am here to take care of you ! Say 
 to yourself, if you feel frightened, ' Lecount is 
 here ; Lecount will take cave of me.' The 
 truth must be told. Sir, however hard to bear 
 the truth may be. Miss Magdalen Vanstone 
 was the woman who came to you in disguise ; 
 and the woman who came to'you in disguise is 
 the woman you have married. The conspiracy 
 which she threatened you with In London is 
 the conspiracy which has made her your wife. 
 That is the plain truth. You have seen the 
 dress up stairs. If that dress had been no 
 longer in existence, I should still have had 
 my proofs to convince j^ou. Thanks to my in- 
 terview with Mrs. Bygrave, I have discovered 
 the house your wife lodged at in London — it 
 was opposite our house in Vauxhall AValk. I 
 have laid my hand on one of the landlady's 
 daughters, who watched your wife from an 
 inner room and saw her put on the disguise ; 
 who can speak to her identity, and to the 
 identity of her companion, Mrs. Bygrave ; and 
 who has furnished me, at my own request, with 
 a written statement of facts, which she is ready 
 to affirm on oath if any person ventures to 
 contradict her. You shall read the statement, 
 Mr. Noel, if you like, when you are fitter to 
 understand it. You shall also read a letter in 
 the handwriting of Miss Garth — who will re- 
 peat to you personally, if you like, what she 
 lias written to me — a letter formally denying 
 that she was ever in Vauxhall Walk, and for- 
 mally asserting that those moles on your wife's 
 neck are marks peculiar to Miss Magdalen 
 Vanstone, whom she has known from child- 
 hood. I say it with a just pride — you will find 
 no weak place any whei'e in the evidence which 
 I bring you. If Mr. Bygrave had not stolen 
 my letter, you would have had your warning 
 before I was cruelly deceived into going to 
 Zurich ; and the proofs which I now bring you 
 after your mai-riage I should then have offered 
 to you before it. Don't hold me responsible, 
 Sir, for what has happened since I left Eng- 
 land. Blame your uncle's bastard daughter, 
 and blame that villain with the brown eye and 
 the green !" ' 
 
 She spoke her last venomous words as slowly 
 and distinctly as she had spoken all the rest. 
 Noel Vanstone made no aitswer — he still sat 
 cowering over the fire. She looked round into 
 his face. He was crying silently. " I was so 
 fond of her !" said the miserable little creature ; 
 " and I thought she was so fond of Me!" 
 
 Mrs. Lecount turned her back on him in 
 disdainful silence. " Fond of her !" As she 
 repeated those words to herself her haggard 
 face became almost handsome again in the 
 magnificent intensity of its contempt. 
 
 She walked to a bookcase at the lower end 
 of the room and began examining the volumes 
 in it. Before she had been long engaged in 
 this way she was startled by the sound of his 
 voice, affrightedly calling her back. The tears 
 were gone from his face ; it was blank again 
 
 with' terror when he now turned it toward -her. 
 
 "Lecount!" he said, holding to her with 
 both hands. " Can an egg be poisoned ? I 
 had an egg for breakfast this morning, and a 
 little toast." 
 
 " Make your mind easy, Sir," said Mrs. Le- 
 count. " The poison of your wife's deceit is 
 the only poison you have taken j-et. If she 
 had resolved already on making you pay the 
 price of your folly with your life, she would 
 not be al)sent from the house while you were 
 left living in it. Dismiss tlie thought from 
 your mind. It is the middle of the day ; you 
 want refreshment. I have more to say to you 
 in the interests of your own safety — I have 
 something for you to do, which must be done at 
 once. Recruit your strength and you will do 
 it. I will set you the example of eating, if you 
 still distrust the food in this house. Are you 
 composed enough to give the servant, her orders 
 if I ring the bell '? It is necessary to the object 
 I have in view for you that nobod_y should 
 think you ill in body or troubled in mind. Try 
 first with me '/efbre the servant comes in. Let 
 us see how you look and speak 'n'hen you say, 
 'Bring up the lunch.' ' 
 
 After two rehearsals, Mrs. Lecount consid- 
 ered him fit to give the order without betray- 
 ing himself. 
 
 The bell was answered by Louisa — Louisa 
 looked hard at Mrs. Lecount. The luncheon 
 was brought up by the house-maid — tlie house- 
 maid looked hard at Mrs. Lecount. When 
 luncheon was over the table was cleared by 
 the cook — the cook looked hard at Mrs. Le- 
 count. The three servants were plainly sus- 
 picious that something extraordinary was going 
 on in the house. It was hardly possible to 
 doubt that they had arranged to share amoHg 
 themselves the three opportunities which the 
 service of the table afforded them of entering 
 the room. 
 
 The curiosity of which she was tlie object 
 did not escape the penetration of Mrs. Le- 
 count. " I did well," she thought, " to arm 
 myself in good time with the means of reach- 
 ing my end. If I let the grass grow under my 
 feet, one or other of those women might get in 
 my way.' Roused by this consideration, she 
 produced her travelling-bag from a corner, as 
 soon as the last of the servants had left the 
 room, and seating herself at the end of the 
 table opposite Noel Vanstone, looked at him 
 for a moment with a steady, investigating at- 
 tention. She had carefully regulated the 
 quantity of wine which he had taken at lun- 
 cheon — she had let him drink exactly enough 
 to fortify without confusing him — antl she now 
 examined his face critically, like an arti.st ex- 
 amining his picture, at the end of the day's 
 work. The result appeai-ed to satisfy her ; 
 and she opened the serious business of the 
 interview on the spot. 
 
 " Will you look at the written evidence I 
 mentioned to you, Mr. Noel, before I say any 
 more ?" she inquired. " Or are you suffi- 
 
 '*i»i 
 
50 NAME. 
 
 209 
 
 ciently persuaded of the truth to proceed at I that was tempting her with tens of thousands 
 once to the suggestion wjiich I have now to more ! For the moment Mrs. Lecount was 
 make to you ?" . . ; fairly silenced by her own surprise; Magdalen 
 
 "Let me hear your suggestion," he said, : had forced the astonishment from her which is 
 iullenly resting his elbows on the table, and akin to admiration, the astonishment which her" 
 leaning his head on his hands. • enmity would fain have refused. Slie. hated 
 
 Mrs. Lecount took from her travelKng-bag | Magdalen with a tenfold hatred from that 
 the written evidence <to which she had just ; time. 
 
 alluded, and carefully placed the papers on ■ "I have no doubt, Sir," she resumed, after 
 one side of him, within easy reach if he wished a momentary silence, "that Mrs. Noel gave 
 to refer to them. Far from being daunted, i you e.xceilent reasons whv the provision for 
 she was visibly encouraged by the ungracious- j her at your death should he no more and no 
 nes8 of his manner. Her experience of him [ less than eighty thousand pounds. And, on 
 informed her that the lign was a promising , the other band, I am equally sure that vou, in 
 one. On those rare occasions wlieii the littie your innocence of all suspicion, found those* 
 
 resolution that he possestsed was roused in him. 
 it invariably asserted itselt"^ — like the resolution 
 of most other weak men — aggressively. At 
 •uch times, in proportion as he was outwardly 
 sullen and discoui'teous to those about him, his 
 
 reasons conclusive at the time. That time has 
 now gone by. Your eyes are opened. Sir; 
 And you will not fail to remark (as I remark) 
 that tlie Combe - Raven property happens to 
 reach the same sum exactlv rs the legacy 
 
 resolfition rose ; and in proportion as he was I whi.^'h your wile's own instructions directed 
 
 considerate and polite it fell. The tone of the j you to leave her. If you are still in anv doubt 
 
 answer he had just given, and the attitude he of the motive for which she married you. look 
 
 assumed at the table, convinced Mrs. Lecount . in your own will, an(l there the mo ive is !" 
 
 that Spnnish wine and Scotch rautton had i lie raised liis head from his hands, and be- 
 
 done their duty, and »had rallied ibis sinking ; came closely attentive to what she was savin'' 
 
 courage. : to iiim for the first time since tliey had faced 
 
 " I will put the question to you for form's | each other at the table. The Coilibe - Raven 
 
 sake, Sir, if you wish it." she proceeded. " Biit j propcrt)- had jjever been classed by itself in 
 
 I am already certain, without any question at , his estimation. It had com^; to him merged in 
 
 all, that you have made your will V" his father's other possi^ssions at his father's 
 
 He nodded iiis head without looking at h'er. ; death. The discovery which had now op-ned 
 
 " You have made it in your wite's favor?" ' before him was one to which hisordinarv habits 
 
 He, nodded again. > of thought, as well as his inno-ence of suspi- 
 
 " You have left hor everything you po»se.is?" cion, had hitherto closed his eyes. He said 
 
 • nothing, but he looked less sullenlv at Mrs. 
 
 No." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount looked surprised. 
 
 " Did you e.\eri ise a reserve toward her, 
 Mr. Noel, of your own accord '?" she inquired. 
 '•or is it po.«sible that your wife put her own 
 limits to her interest in vour will ?'" 
 
 Lecount. His manner was more ingratiating; 
 the high tide of his courage was already on 
 the «*bb. 
 
 " Y'our position, Sir, must be as plain by 
 
 this time to you as it is to me," sai<l Mrs. 
 
 He was uneasily silent— he. was plainly! Lecount. "There is only one obstad*- now 
 
 Ashamed to answer the question. Mrs. Le^ 
 count repeated it in a less direct form. 
 
 '• Ilciw nmch have you left your widow, Mr. 
 Nod, in the event of your death?" 
 
 " Eighty thousand pounds." 
 
 That reply answered the question. Eight} 
 
 left between this. woman and the attainment 
 of her euvl. That nh^'tiicli'. in iinur life. .Alter 
 the discovery we have m vde uj) stairs, I leave 
 you to consider for yourself what your life is 
 worth." 
 
 At those terrible words the ebbing rp«olu- 
 
 thoi.sand pounds was'exactiy the fbr/une which tion in him ran out to the last drop. " Don't 
 Michael Vanstone had taken I'rom his brother's I frighten me!" he pleaded; "I have been 
 orphan children at his brotliers death— exact- ! frightened enough already." He ros{', and 
 ly the fortune of which Michael Vanstone's! dragged his chair-after him" round the, table to 
 son had kept possession, in his turn as pitiless- ;Mr.s. Lecount's side. He sat down, and 
 ly as his father Before him. Noel ^Vai.stone's , caressingly ki.-^scd her hand. "You good 
 silence was elocpient of the confes'sion which ; creature !" he said, in a sinking voice. "'Vou 
 ho was ashamed to make. His doting weak- ' excellent Lecount ! Tell me what to do. 
 ness had, beyond all <loubt. placed his whole '< I 'm full of resolution — I '11 do anythin-' to 
 property at the feet of his. wife. And this i save my life !" " ■ 
 
 girl, whose vindictive daring had defied all re- J " H tve you got writing materials in the 
 straints— this girl, who had not shrunk from her | room. Sir?" asked Mrs. Lecount. " Will you 
 di-sperate determination even at the church- ! put them on the table, if you please?" 
 door — had, in the very hour of her triimiph. i While the writing materi Us wei-e in process 
 taken part only from the man who would wil- ! of collection Mrs. Lecount m^de a new de- 
 lingly have given all !— had rigorously exacted { mind on the resources of her travellin;x-h 
 ber fathers fortune from him to the last far- kSiie took two papers from it, each indorseil \n 
 thing, and th«n turned her back on the band j the same neat commercial hanjwritin'r 
 
 37 
 
 g-nag. 
 d in 
 One 
 
»0 
 
 ^0 NAME. 
 
 was described as •'Draught for proposed Will," 
 the other as " Draught for proposed Letter." 
 Wlien she placed them before her on the 
 table her hand shook a little ; and she applied 
 the smelling-salts, which she had brought with 
 her in Noel Vanstone's interests, to her own 
 nostrils. 
 
 " I had hoped, when I came here, Mr. 
 Noel," she proceeded, "to have given you 
 more time ibr consideration than it seems 
 safe to give you now. When you first told 
 me of your wife's absence in London I thought 
 it probable that the object of her journey was 
 to see her sister and Miss Xiarth. Since the 
 horrible discovery we have made up stairs I 
 am inclined to alter that opinion.; Your wife's 
 determination not to tell you who the friends 
 are whom she has gone to see fills me with 
 alarm. She may have accomplices in Lon- 
 don — accomplices, for anything we know to 
 the coiitrayy, in this house. All three of your 
 servants, Sir, have tjiken the opportunity, in 
 turn, of I'oniing into the Toom and looking I 
 at me. I don't like tlieir, looks! Neither you i 
 nor I know what may happen from day to 
 day, or even from hour to hour. If you take j 
 my aihlce you will get the start at once of 
 all possible accidents, and when the carriage 
 comes back you will leave this house with me." 
 " Yes, yes 1" he said, eagerly ; " I '11 leave 
 the house with you. I wouldn't stop here by 
 mvseif for any sum of money that could be 
 offered me. What do we want the pen and 
 ink for V Are you to write, or am I ?" 
 
 " You are to write, Sir," said Mrs. Lecount. 
 *' The means taken for promoting your own 
 safety are to be means set in motion, from 
 beginning to end, by yourself I suggest, Mr. 
 jJoel — and you decide. Recognize your own 
 position. Sir. What is your first and foremost 
 necessity ? It is plainly this. .You must de- 
 stroy your wife's interest in your death by 
 making another will." 
 
 "He vehera'.'ntly nodded his approval ; his 
 color rose, and his blinking eyes brightened in 
 malicious triumph. " She shan't have a far- 
 thiu'^,' he said to himself, in a whisper — "she 
 shan't have a farthing !" 
 
 • "• When your will is made, Sir," proceeded 
 Mrs. Lecount, "you must place it in the hands 
 of a trustworthy person — not my hands, Mr. 
 Noel ; I am only your servant! Then, when 
 the will is safe, and when you are safe, write 
 to your wife at this house. Tell Tier her in- 
 famous imposture is discovered — tell her you 
 have made a new will, which leaves her pen- 
 niless at your death — tell her, in your right- 
 eous indignation, that she enters your doors 
 no more. Place yourself in that strong po- 
 sition, and it is no longer you who are at your 
 wife's mercy, but your wife who is at yours. 
 Assert your own power, Sir, with the law 
 to help you, and crush this woman into sub- 
 mission to any terms for the future that you 
 please to impose." 
 
 He eagerly took up the pen. "Yes," he 
 
 said, with a vindictive self-iiiiportancc, " any 
 terms I please to impose." He suddenly 
 checked himself, and his face became de- 
 jected and perplexed. " How can I do it 
 now ?" he asked, throwing down the pen as 
 quickly as he had taken it up. 
 
 " Do what. Sir ?" inquired Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 " How can I make my will with Mr. Los- 
 combe away in London, and no lawyer here 
 to help me ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lecount gently tapped the papers 
 before her on the table with her forefinger. 
 ' " All the help you need. Sir, is waiting for 
 you here," she said. " I considered this mat- • 
 ter carefully before I came to you, and I pro- 
 vided myself with the confidential assistance 
 of a friend to guide me through those difficul- 
 ties which I could not penetrate for myself. 
 The friend to whom I refer is a gentleman of 
 Swiss extraction, but born and bred in Eng- 
 land. He is not a lawyer by profession, but 
 he has had his own sufficient experience of 
 the law, nevertheless; and he has supplied 
 me, not only with a model by which you may 
 make your lyill, but with the written sketch of 
 a letter which it is as important for us to have 
 as the model of the will itself There is 
 another necessity waiting for you, Mr. Noel^ 
 which I have not mentioned yet, but which is 
 no less urgent in its way than the necessity of 
 the will." 
 
 " What is it ?" he asked, with roused curi- 
 osity. 
 
 " We will take it in its turn. Sir," an- 
 swered Mrs. Lecount. " Its turn has nbt 
 come yet. The will, if you please, first. I 
 will dictate from the model in my possession, 
 and you will write." 
 
 Noel Vanstone looked at the draught for the 
 Will and the draught for the Letter with sus- 
 picious curiosity. 
 
 " I think I ought to see the papers myself . 
 before you dictate," he said. "It would 
 be more satisfactory to my own mind, Le- 
 count." 
 
 " By all means, Sir," rejoined Mrs. Le- 
 count, handing him the papers immediately. 
 
 He read the draught for the AVill first, paus- 
 ing and knitting his brows distrustfully wher- 
 ever he found blank spaces left in the manu- 
 script to be filled in with the names of persons. 
 • and the enumeration of sums bequeathed to 
 them. Two or three .minutes of reading 
 brought him to the end of the paper. He 
 gave it bact to Mrs. Lecount without making 
 any objection to it. 
 
 The draught for the Letter was a much 
 longer document.* He obstinately read it 
 through to the end, with an expression of per- 
 plexity and discontent which showed that it 
 was utterly unintelligible to him. " I must 
 have this explained," he said, with a touch of 
 his old self-importance, " before I take any 
 steps in the matter." 
 
 ( " It shall be explained. Sir, as we go on." 
 said Mrs. Lecount. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 211 
 
 '' Every word of it V" 
 
 " Every word of It, JNlr. ^^Of I, when its turn 
 <ome9. You have no objection to the will V 
 To the will, tHen, as 1 said before, let us 
 devote ourselves first. You have seen for 
 y6urself that it is short enough and simple 
 enough for a child to understand it. But if 
 any doubts remain ou your mind, by all means 
 compose those doubts by showing your will to 
 a lawyer by profession. In the meantime, le' 
 me not be considered intrusive if I remind 
 you that we are all mqjftal, and that the 
 lost opportunity can jiever be recalled. While 
 your time is vour own, Sir, and while your 
 enemies are unsuspicious of you, make vour 
 will !" 
 
 She opened a sheet of note-{Vif>er and 
 smoothed it out before him; she dipped the 
 pen in ink and placed it in his hands. He 
 took it from her without speaking ; he was, 
 to all appearance, suffering 'under some tem 
 porary uneasiness of mind. But the main 
 point was gained. There he sat, with the pa- 
 per before him and the pen in his hand, ready 
 at last, in right earnest, to make his will. 
 
 "The first question for you to decide, Sir," 
 said Mrs. Lecount, after a preliminary glance 
 at hir Draught, " is your choice of an executor. 
 I have no desire to influence your decision ; 
 but I may, without impropriety, remind you 
 that a wise choice means, m other words, the 
 choice of an old and tried friend whom you 
 know that you can trust." 
 
 " It means the admiral, I suppose," said 
 Noel Vanstone. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount bowed. 
 
 "Very well," he continued; " the admiral 
 let it be." 
 
 There was plainly some oppression still 
 weighing on his mind. Even under the try-- 
 ing circumstances in which he was now placed 
 it was not in his nature to take Mrs. Lecount's 
 perfectly sensible and disinterested advice 
 without a word of cavil, as he had taken it 
 now. 
 
 " Are you ready, Sir ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount dictated the first paragraph 
 from the Draught, as follows : 
 
 i-This is the last Will and Testament of 
 me, Noel Vanstone, now living at Baliol Cot- 
 tage, near Dumfries. I revoke, absolutely 
 and in every particular, my former will, exe- 
 cuted on the thirtieth of September, eighteen 
 hundred and forty-seven ; and I hereby ap- 
 point Rear- Admiral Arthur Everard Bar- 
 tram, of St. Crux-in-the Marsh, Essex, sole 
 executor of this my will." 
 
 •' Have you written those words, Sir ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount laid down the Draught; Noel 
 Vanstone laid down tlie pen. They neither 
 •I' them looked at each other. There was a 
 lon<i silence. 
 
 " I am waiting, Mr. Noel," sair^gics. Le* 
 count, at last, " to hear what your iBies are 
 'n respect to the disposal of yoi* fortune. 
 Your large fortune," she added, with merci- 
 less emphasis. 
 
 He took up the pen again, and began pick- 
 ing the feathei"s from the i]uill in dead silence. 
 
 " Perhaps your existing will may help you 
 to instruct me. Sir," pursued Jlrs. Lecount. 
 •' May I inquire to whom you left all your 
 ■surplus money after leaving the eighty thou- 
 sand pounds to your wife V" 
 
 If he had answered tliat, question plainly 
 he must have said, " I have h-fl the whole 
 surplus to my cousin, George" B:irtram," and 
 the implied acknowledgment that Mrs. Li>- 
 couut's name was not mentioned in the will 
 must then have followed in Mrs. LccoinU's 
 presence. A much bolder man, in his situa- 
 tion, might have felt the same oppression and 
 the same embarrassment which he was feeling 
 now. He picked the last morsel of feather 
 from the quill, and. desperately leaping the 
 pitfall under his fe«t, advanced to meet Mrs. 
 Lecount's claims on him of his own accord. 
 
 "I would rather not talk of any will but 
 the will I am making now," he sai 1, uneasily. 
 '' The first thing, Lecount — ' He hesitated — 
 put the bare end of the quill into lii^ mouth — 
 gnawed at it thoughtfully — and said no more. 
 
 *' Yes, Sir ?" persisted Mrs. Lecount 
 
 " The first thmg is — " 
 
 " les. Sir .•' 
 
 " The first thing is, to — to make some pro- 
 vision for You V" 
 
 He spoke the last words in a tone of plnin- 
 tive interrogation — as if all hope of being 
 met by a magnanimous refusal iiad not de- 
 serted him even yet. Mr^. Li-count enlight- 
 ened his mind on this point without a moment's 
 loss of time. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr.- Noel," she said, with the 
 tone and manner of a woman who was not 
 acknowledging a favor blit receiving a right. 
 
 He tO( k aiiotlier bite at the (piill. . The 
 perspiration began to appear on his face. 
 
 " The flifBcuhy is," he remarked, "to say^ 
 how much." 
 
 " Yonr lamented father, Sir," rejoined Mrs.- 
 Lecount. " met that difflculty (if voo remem- 
 ber) at the tim« of his last illness?" 
 
 " I don't remember," said Noel Vanstone, 
 doggedly. 
 
 " You were on one side of his bed. Sir, and 
 I was on the othur. We were vainly trying 
 to persuade him to make his will. After tell- 
 in" us he would wait and make his will when 
 he was well again, he looked round at me and 
 said some kind and feeling words whiil> my 
 memory will treasure to my dyini <lay. Have 
 you forgotten those words, Air. Noel;"' 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Noel, witliout hesitation. 
 
 " In my prodent situation. Sir," retorted 
 Mrs. Lecount, " <lclicacy forbids me to im- 
 prove your memory. " 
 
 She looked at at her watch and relapsed 
 
212 
 
 NO NAMB. 
 
 into sil^,. ^e. He clenched bis hands, and 
 writhAij^'om side to side of lii.s chair in an 
 a;rony of^ndetision. Mrs. Lecount passively 
 refused to take the slightest notice of liini. 
 
 '• What should 3 ou say — ?" he began, and 
 suddfiily stopped again. 
 
 "Yes, -Sir?" 
 
 "What sliould you say to — a thousand 
 pounds V" 
 
 Mrs. Leeount rose from her chair and looked 
 him full in the face with the majestic indig- 
 nation of an outraged woman. 
 
 " After the service I have rendered you 
 to-day, Mr. Nod,*" she said, " I have at least 
 earned a claim on your respect — if I have 
 earned nothing more. I wish you good-morn- 
 ing." 
 
 ^"Two thousand!" cried Noel Vanstone, 
 with the courage of ilespair. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount folded up her papers, and 
 hut\g her travelling-bag over her arm in con- 
 temptuous silence. 
 
 " Tliree thousand !" 
 
 Mrs. Lecount moved wj^h impenetrable dig- 
 nity from the table to the door. 
 
 " Four thousand !" 
 
 Mrs. Lecount gathered her shawl round her 
 with a shudder, and opened the door. 
 
 " Five'thousand !" • 
 
 He elapsed his hands, and wrung them at 
 her in a frenzy of rage and suspense. " Five 
 thousand !" was the death-cry of his pecuniary 
 suicide. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount softly shut the door agaio and 
 came back a- step. 
 
 " Free of legacy duty, Sir?" she inquired. 
 
 " No !" 
 
 Mrs. Lecount turned o"p her heel and open- 
 ed the door again. 
 
 "Yes!' 
 
 Mrs. Lecount came back, and resumed her 
 place at the table as if nothing had happened. 
 
 " Five thousand pounds, free of legacy duty. 
 was the sum. Sir, which your father's grateful 
 regard promised me in his will," she said, qui- 
 etly. " If you choose to exert your memory, 
 as you have not chosen to exert it yet, your 
 memory will tell you that I speak the truth. 
 I accept your filial performance of your fa- 
 ther's promise, Mr. Noel — and there J stop. 
 I scorn to take a mean advantage of my posi- 
 tion toward you : I scorn to grasp anything 
 from your fears. Y'ou are protected by my 
 ■ respect for myself and for the Illustrious Name 
 I bear. You are welcome to all that I have 
 done, and to all that I liave suffered in your 
 service. The widow of Professor Lecompte, 
 Sir, takes what- is justly hers — and takes no 
 more 1" ' . 
 
 As she spoke these words the traces of sick- 
 ness seemed for the moment to disappear from 
 her face; her eyes shone with a steady inner 
 light; all the woman warmed and brightened 
 in tlie radiance of her- own triumph — the tri- 
 umph, trebly won, of carrying her point, of 
 vindicating her integrity, and of matching 
 
 Magdalen's incorruptible selfklenial on Mag- 
 dalen's own ground. 
 
 "When you are yourself again. Sir, we will 
 proceed. Let us wait a little first." 
 
 She gave iiim time to compose himself; and 
 then, after first looking at her Draught, dic- 
 tated the second paragraph of the will in 
 these terms: 
 
 " I give and bequeath to Madame Virginie 
 Lecompte (widow of Professor Lecompte, late 
 of Zurich) the nunvof Five Thousand Pounds, 
 free of Legacy Duty. And, in making this 
 bequest. I wish to place it on record that I am 
 not only expressing my own sense of Madame 
 Lecom})te's attachment and fidelity in the ca- 
 pacity of my housekeeper, but that I also be- 
 lieve myself to be executing the intentions of 
 my deceased father, who, but for the circum- 
 !«tance of his dyiing intestate, would have left 
 •Madame Lecompte, in his will, the same token 
 of grateful regard for her services which I now 
 leave her in mine." 
 
 " Have you written the last wortis, Sir f" 
 
 "'Yes." 
 
 Mrs Lecount leaned 'across the table and 
 offered NopI Vanstone her hand. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Noel," she said. " The 
 five thousand pounds is the acknowledgment 
 on your father's side of what I have done ibr 
 him. The words in the will are the acknowl- 
 edgment on yours." 
 
 A faint smile flickered over his face for the 
 first time. It comforted him, on reflection, to 
 think that matters might have been worse. 
 There was balm for his wounded spirit in pay- 
 ing the debt of gratitude by » sentence not 
 negotiable at his banker's. Whatever his 
 father migh^ have done, he had got Lecount a 
 bargain after all I 
 
 " A little more writing. Sir," resumed Mrs. 
 Lecount, "and your painful but necessary 
 duty will be performed. The trifling matter 
 of my legacy being settled, we may come to 
 the important question that is left. The future 
 direction of a large fortune is now waiting your 
 word of command. To whoiji is it to go V ' 
 
 He began to writhe rtgain in his chair. Evec 
 under the all-powerful fascination of his wife 
 the parting with his money on paper had not 
 been accomplished without a pang. He had 
 endured the pang : he had resigned himself to 
 the sacrifice. And now here was the dreaded 
 ordeal again awaiting him mercilessly for the 
 second time I 
 
 'i Perhaps it may assist your decision, Sir, if 
 I repeat a (luestion which I haw put to you 
 already," observed Mrs. Lecount. " In the 
 will that you made under your wife's influ- 
 ence, to whom did you leave the surplus mon- 
 ey which remained at your disposal ?" 
 
 There was no harm in answering the ques- 
 tion now. He -acknowledged that he had left 
 the money to his cousin George. 
 
 " You could have done nothing better, Mr. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 Sit 
 
 Noel, and you can do nothing better now," 
 said Mrs. Lecount. "Mr. George and his two 
 sisters are your only relations left. One of 
 those si^ters'isi an im"urable invalid, with more 
 than money enough already for all the wants 
 whii-h her affliction allows her to feel. The 
 other is the wife of a man even richer than 
 yourself. To leave the money to these sis- 
 ters is to waste it. To leave the money to 
 their brother George istogiv»your cousin e.x- 
 aotly the assistance wWch he will want when 
 he one day inherits Lis uncle's dilapidated 
 hou,-<e and his uncle's impoverished estate. A 
 will which names the admiral your executor, 
 and Mr. George your heir, is the right will 
 for you to make. It does honor to the claims 
 of friendsbip, and it does justice to the claims 
 of blood." 
 
 She spoke warmly, for .«he spoke with a 
 grateful remembrance of all that she herself 
 owed to the hospitality of St. Crux. Noel 
 Vanstonc took up another pen, and began to 
 strip tlie second quill of its feathers as he had 
 stripped the first. 
 
 " Yes," he said, reluctantly; " I supfiose 
 George must have it — I suppose George has 
 the principal claim on me.'" lie hesitated : 
 he looked at the door, he looked at the win- 
 dow, as it he longed to make his escape by 
 one way or the other. '• Oh. J recount," he 
 cried, piteously, '' it 's such a large fortune ! 
 Let me wait » little before I leave it to any- 
 body !" 
 
 To his surprise, Mrs. Lecount at once com- 
 plied with this characteristic request. 
 
 " I wish you to wait, Sir,' she replied. " I 
 have somethinfj important to say before you 
 add another line to your will A little wjiile 
 since I told you there wa« a second necessity 
 connected with your present situs^tion, whicli 
 had not been provided for yet, but which 
 must be provided for when the time came. 
 The time has come now. You have a serious 
 difUculty to meet and conquer before you can 
 leave your fortune to your cousin George." 
 
 " What difficulty ?" he asked. 
 
 Mrs. Lecount. rose from her chair withoHt 
 answering, stole to the door, and suddenly 
 threw it open. No one was listening outside; 
 the passage was a solitude from one end to the 
 other. 
 
 •' I distrust all servants," she said, rctnrning 
 to her place — '' your servants particularly. 
 Sit closer, Mr. Noel. What 1 have now to 
 say to you must be heard by no living^creat- 
 ure but ourselves." 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 There was a pause of a few minutes, while 
 Mrs. Lecount opened the ?c<on<l of the two 
 papers which lav before her on the table, and 
 refreshed her memory by locking it rapidlv 
 through. This done, she oiue more addressed 
 herself to Notd Vanstone, carefully lowering 
 
 her voice, m ai to render ii inaudible to any 
 one who might be listening in the passage out- 
 side. 
 
 " I must beg your permission. Sir," she be- 
 gan, "to return to the subject of your wife. I 
 do so most unwillingly, and I promise you that 
 what I have now to say about her shall be 
 said, for your sake and tor mine, in the fewest 
 words. What do we know of this woman, 
 Mr. Noel — judging her by her own confession 
 when she came to us in tfcs character of Miss 
 Garth, and by her own acts afterward at Aid- 
 borough ? We know that, if death had not 
 sivatched your father out of her reach, she was 
 ready with her plot to rob him of the Combe- 
 Ryiven money. We know that when you in- 
 herited the money in your juni, ghe was ready 
 with her plot to rob you. Wo know how she 
 carried that plot through to the end ; and we 
 know that nothing but your death is wanted 
 at this moment to crown her rapacity and her 
 deception with success. We are sure of these 
 things. We are^iure that she is young, bold, 
 and clever — that she has neither doubts, scru- 
 ples, nor pity — and that She possessi's the per- 
 sonal qualities which men in general (quite 
 incompreh(!n.sibly to me!) are weak enough to 
 admire. These are not fancies, Mr. Noel, but 
 facts — you know them as well as 1 do." 
 
 He made a sign in the affirmative, and Mrs. 
 Lecount went on : 
 
 '* Keep in your mind what I have said of 
 the past. Sir, and now look with me to the, 
 future. I hop« and trust you have a long life 
 still before you; but let us. for the moment 
 only, suppose the case of your de.'ith — a our 
 death, leaving this will behind \ou, whicli aive* 
 your fortune to your cousin George. I am 
 told there is an office in London in which 
 copies of all wills must be kept. Any curiouf 
 atranger who chooses to pay a shilling for the 
 privilege may enter that office, and may read 
 ■Any will in the place at his or her di-cretion. 
 Uo you see what I am coming to, Mr. N^l ? 
 Your disinherited widow pays her shilling, 
 and reads your will. Your difiinherited wid- 
 ow sees that the Combe-Raven money, winch 
 has gone irom your father to you, goei next 
 from you to 5Ir. George Bartrara. What is* 
 ti^e certain end of that discovery V The end 
 in that you leave to your cou.sin and your 
 friend the legacy of this woman's vengeance 
 and this woman's deceit — vengeance made 
 more resolute, deceit made more devilisii than 
 ever by lier exa.^peration it her own failure. 
 What is your cousin (ieorge ? He is a gen- 
 erous, unsuspicious man ; incapable of deceit 
 himself, and fearing no deception in otheri. 
 Leave him at the mercy of your wife's unscru- 
 pulous fa.viTiationH and your wife's unfathom- 
 able deceit, and I see the end as certainly an 
 I see you sitting there! She will blind hi« 
 eyes as she blinded yours; and, is spite of 
 )/oH, and in spite of me, she will have the 
 money !" 
 * " She stopped, and left her last words time 
 
314 
 
 NO NAAIE. 
 
 to gain their hold on his mind. The cireura- 
 s<tances had been stated so clearly, the conclu- 
 sion from them had been so plainly drawn, 
 that he seized her meaning without an effort, 
 ;md sejzed it at once. 
 
 " I see !" he said, vindictively clenching his 
 hands. " I understand, Lecouiit I She shan't 
 fiave a farthing. Only tell me what to do — 
 shall I leaTe it to the admiral ?" He paused, 
 i«nd considered a little. '♦No," he resumed; 
 '• there's the same .danger in leaving it to the 
 admiral that there is in leaving it to George.'-' 
 
 " There is no danger, Mr. Noel, if you will 
 lake my advice."' 
 
 •' What is your advice ?" 
 
 " Follow your own idea. Sir. Take the pen 
 in hand again, and leave the money to Admi- 
 ral Bartram." 
 
 He mechanically dipped the pen in the ink, 
 ;ind then hesitated. * 
 
 " You shall know where I am leading you, 
 Sir," said Mrs. Lecount, "before you sign your* 
 vill. In the meantime, let us gain every inch 
 of ground we can as we go on. I want the 
 will to be all writterfout before we advance a 
 •ingle Jtep beyond it. Begin your third par- 
 agraph, Mr. Noel, under the lines which leave 
 me my legacy of five thousand pounds." 
 
 She dictated the last momentous sentence 
 of the will (from the rough draught in her 
 [)ossession) in these words: 
 
 " The whole residue of my estate, after jjay- 
 ment of my burial expenses and my lawful 
 debts, I give and bequeath to Rear-Admiral 
 Arthur Everard Bartram, my executor afore- 
 said : to be by him applied to such uses as he 
 may think fit. 
 
 '' Signed, sealed, and delivered this third 
 day of November, eighteen hundred and for- 
 ty-seven, by Noel Vanstone, the within-named 
 testator, as and for his last Will and Testa- 
 ment, in the presence of us — " 
 
 " Is that all ?" asked Noel Vanstone, in as- 
 tonishment'. 
 
 " That is enough, Sir, to bequeath your for- 
 tune to the admiral ; and therefore that is all. 
 Now let us go back to the case which we have 
 supposed already. Your widow pays her shil- 
 ling, and sees this will. There is the Combe- 
 Raven money left to Admiral Bartram, with a 
 declaration 'in plain words that it is his, to use 
 as he likes. Avhen she sees this, what does 
 she do 'i She sets her trap for the admiral. 
 He is a bachelor, and he is an old man. Who 
 is to protect him against the arts of this des- 
 perate woman V Protect him yourself, Sir, 
 with a few more strokes of that pen which has 
 done such wonders already. You have left 
 him this legacy in youv will — which your wife 
 sees. Take the legacy away again in a letter 
 — which is a dead secret between the admiral 
 and you. Put the will and the letter under 
 one cover, and place them in the admiral's 
 possession, with your written directions to bim 
 
 to br^ak the seal on the day of your death. 
 Let the will say what it says now ; and let the 
 letter (which is your secret and Iris) tell him 
 the truth. Say that in leaving him your for- 
 tune, you leave it with the request that he 
 will take his legacy with one hand from you, 
 and give it with the other to his nephew 
 Greorge. Tell him that your trust in this 
 matter rests solely on your confidence in his 
 honor, and on your belief in his affectionate 
 remembrance of your* father and yourself 
 You have known the admiral since you were • 
 a boy. He has his little whims and oddities — 
 but he is a gentleman from the crown of his 
 head to the sole of his foot; and he is utterly 
 incapable of proving false to a trust in his 
 honor, reposed by his dead friend. Meet the 
 difficulty boldly by such a stratagem as this, 
 and you save these two helpless men from ' 
 your wife's snares, one by means of the other.. 
 Here, on one side, is your will, which gives 
 the, fortune to the admiral, and sets her plot- 
 ting accordinjrly. And there, on the other 
 side, is your letter, which privately puts the 
 money into the nephew's hand^!" 
 
 The malicious dejgXterity of this combination, 
 was exactly the dexterity which Noel Van- 
 stone was most fit to appreciate. He tried to 
 express his approval and admiration in words. , 
 Mrs. Lecount held up her hand warningly, 
 and closed his lips. 
 
 " Wait, Sir, before you express your opin- 
 ion," she went on. " Half the difficulty is all 
 that we have conquered yet. Let us say the 
 admiral has made the use of your legacy which 
 you have privately requested him to make of " 
 it. Sooner or later, however well the secret ' 
 may be kept, your wife will discover the * 
 truth. What follows that discovery? She , 
 lays siege to Mr. George. All you have done 
 is to leave him the money by a roundabout 
 way. There he is, after an interval of time, 
 as much at her merc.v as if you had openly 
 mentioned him in your will. What is the 
 remedy for this ? "The remedy is to mislead 
 her, if we can, for the second time — to set up 
 an obstacle between her and the money, for 
 tke protection of your cousin George. Can 
 you guess for yourself, Mr. Noel, what is the 
 most promising obstacle we can put in her , 
 way ?" • • 
 
 He shock his head. Mrs. Lecount smiled, 
 and startled him into close attention by laying 
 her hand on his arm. 
 
 " Put a Woman in her way, Sir !" she 
 whispered, in her wiliest tones. " We don't 
 believe in that fascinating beauty of hers, ^^ 
 whatever you may do. Our lips don't burn to . 
 kiss those smooth cheeks — our arms don't long 
 to l)e round that supple waist. We see through 
 her smiles and hqr graces, and her stays and 
 her padding — she can't fascinate us I Put a 
 woman in her way, Mr. Noel ! Not a womaa 
 in my helpless situation, who is only a servant, 
 but a woman with the authority and the jeal- 
 ousy of a Wife. Make it a condition, in your 
 
.^O NAME. 
 
 215 
 
 letter to tlie admiral, that if* Mr. George is a \ letter-paper was found in it of the size re- 
 bachelor at the time of your death he shall I quired. Kirs. Lecouut resumed her dictation, 
 marry within a certain, time afterward, or, he | and Noel Vanstone resumed his pen. 
 shall not have the legacy. Suppose he remains i 
 
 sinffle, in spite of your condition, "who is to s " Bauol Cottaoe, DcMrniKa. Aw. 3» 1847. 
 
 have the money then? Put a woman in your ^ [pbivate ] 
 
 wife's way. Sir, once more, and leave the for- ' 
 
 tune, in that case, to the married sister of your " Dear Admiral Bartram— When you 
 cousin George." j.^^P^^ '"X ^^ill (m which you are named my 
 
 She paused. Noel Vanstone again attempt- ; sole e.xecutor) you will find that I haver- 
 ed to e.xpress his opinion, and again Mrs. i queathed the whole residue ot my estate 
 
 LecounVs hand extinguished him in silence 
 
 " If you approve, Mn Noel," alio said, " I 
 will take your approval for granted. If you 
 object, I will meet your objection before it is 
 out of your mouth. You may say : Suppose 
 this condition is sufficient to answer the pur- 
 
 aller payment of one legacy of five thousand 
 
 f)ounds — to yourself It is the purpose of my 
 etter to tell you privately what the object is 
 for which I have left you the fortune t^hich is 
 now placed in your hands. 
 
 " I beg you to consider this large legacy as 
 
 pose, why hide it in a private letter to the 1 intended, under certain conditions, to be given 
 admiral ? Why not openly .wri)je it down, i by you to your nephew George. If your 
 with my cousin's name attached to it, in the I nephew Is married at the time of my death. 
 
 XX\y ^. „ 
 
 will? Only for one reai^on, Sir. Only be- i and if his' wife is Hving, I request you to put 
 cause the secret way is the sure wav with such | l"ni at once in possession of >;our legacy ; ac- 
 companying it by the e.xpression of my desire 
 (which I am sure he will consider a sacred and 
 binding obligation on him) that he will settle 
 the money on his wife and on his children, il 
 he has any. If, on the other hand, he is un- 
 married at the time of my death, or if he is a 
 widower — in either of those cases, I make it a 
 condition of -his receiving the legacy that he 
 shall be married within the period of — " 
 
 a woman as your wife. The more secret you 
 can keep your intentions the more time you 
 force her to Avaste in finding them out for 
 herself That time which she loses is time 
 gained from her treachery by the admiral — 
 time gained b}- Mr. George (if he is still a 
 bachelor) for his undisturbed choice of a lady 
 — time gained, for her own sccurit}-, by the 
 object of his choice, who might otherwise be 
 the first object of your wife's suspicion and 
 your wife's hostility. Remember the bottle we 
 have discovered up stairs, and keep this desper- 
 ate woman ignorant, and therefore harmless, 
 as lonor as you can. There is my advice, Mr. 
 Noel, in the fewest and plainest words. What 
 do you say, Sir ? Am 1 almost as clever, in 
 my way, as your friend Mr. Bygrave ? Can I, 
 too, conspire a little, when the object of my 
 conspiracy is to assist your wishes and to pro- 
 tect your friends?" 
 
 Permitted the use of his tongue at last, 
 
 Mrs. Lecount laid down the Draught letter 
 from which she had been dictating thus far, 
 and informed Noel Vanstone by a sign that 
 his pen might rest, 
 
 " We have come to the (jucstion of time. 
 Sir," she observed. " How long will you give 
 your cousin to marry, if he is single, or a 
 widower, at the time of your death ?" 
 
 " Shall I give him a year ?" inquired Noel 
 Vanstone. 
 
 "If we had nothing to consider but the in- 
 
 Noel Vanstone's admiration of Mrs. Lecount \ terests of Propriety," said Mrs. Lecount, " I 
 e.xpressed itself in terms precisely similar to | should say a year too, Sir — especially if Mr. 
 those which he had used on a former occasion I George should happen to be a widower. But 
 in payin;j his compliments to Captain Wragge. j we have your wife to consider as well as the 
 " What a head you have got I" were the grate- j interests of Propriety. A year of delay be- 
 ful words he had once spoken to Mrs. Lecount's ' tween your death and your cousin's marriage 
 bitterest enemy. "AVIiat a head you have is a dangerously long time to leave the dis- 
 got I" were the grateful words which he now ' posal of }our lortune in suspense. Give a 
 spoke again to Mrs. Lecount licsrself So do j determined woman a year to plot and contrive 
 e.xfreme.'* meet; and such is sometimes the, all- in, and there is no saying what she may not 
 embracing capacity of the approval of a fool ! do." 
 
 " Allow my head, Sir, to deserve the com- ^ " Six months ?" suegested Noel Vanstone. 
 pliment which you have paid to it," saitl Mrs. | " Six months. Sir," rejoined Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 recount. " Tlie letter to the admiral is not 
 written yet. Your will there is a bo<lv witli- 
 out a soul — an Adam without an Eve — until 
 the letter is completed and lai<l by its side. A 
 little more dictation on my part, a little more 
 writing on yours, and our work is done. Par- 
 don nie. The letter will be longer than the 
 will ; we must have larger paper than the note- 
 paper this time." 
 
 is the preterable time of the two. A six- 
 months interval from the day of your death is 
 enough for Mr. George. You look discompiSsed. 
 Sir. What is the matter ?' * 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't talk so much about 
 my death," he broke out, petulantly. " I don't 
 like it I I hate the very sound of the word I" 
 
 Mrs. Lecount smiled resignedly, and referred 
 ; to her Draught. 
 
 Th«» writing-ca,'**' wa» S4'«rchc.d, and some ; *' I see the word 'Decease' written here," 
 
»16 
 
 50 NAMISI 
 
 she remarked. " Perhaps, Mr. Noel, you 
 
 would prefer it ?" 
 
 " Yep," he said ; " I prefer ' Decease.* It 
 
 doesn't sound so dreadful as ' Death.' " 
 " Let U3 go on with the-letter, Sir." 
 She resumed her dictation, a» follows : 
 
 " in either of those cases I make it 
 
 a condition of his receiving the legacy that he 
 shall be married within the period of Six cal- 
 endar months from' the day of my decease ; 
 that the woman he marries shall not be a 
 widow ; and that his mai-riage shall be a mar- 
 riage by Bans, publicly celebrated in the 
 parish church of Osfory — where he has been 
 IcnoVn from his childhood, and where the 
 family and circumstances of his future wife 
 are likely to be the subject of • public interest 
 and inquiry." 
 
 " This," said Mrs. Lecount, quietly looking 
 up from the Draught, '* is to protect Mr. 
 George, Sir, in case the same trap is set for 
 him wliic-h was successfully set for you. She 
 will not find her false character and her false 
 name fit quite so easily next time — no, not 
 e.ven with Mr. Bygrave to help her! Another 
 dip of ink, Mr. Noel; let us write the next 
 paragraph. Are you ready V ' 
 
 "Yes." ' 
 
 Mrs. Lecount went on : , 
 
 " If your nephew fails to comply with these 
 conditions — that is to say, if, being either a 
 bachelor or a widower at the time of my 
 decease, he fails to many in all respects as 
 I have here instructed him to marry, within 
 Si.K calendar months from that time-r-it is my 
 desire that he shall not receive the legacy, 
 nor any part of it. I request ynu, in the case 
 here supposed, to pass him over altogether. , 
 and to give the fortune left you in my will 
 to his married sister, Mrs. Girdlestone. 
 
 " Having now put you in possession of my 
 motives and intentions I come to the next ^ 
 question which it is necessary to consider. If, 
 when you open this letter, j-our nepiiew is an ' 
 unmarried man, it is clearly indispensable that 
 he should luiow o^' the conditions here imposed 
 on him as soon, if possible, as you know ol j 
 them >ourself. Are yOu, under these circum- 
 stances, freely to communicate to him what 
 I have here written to you ? Or ara you 
 to leave him under the impression that , no 
 such private expression of my wishes as this is 
 in existence ; and are you to state all the con- 
 ditions relating to his marriage as if they 
 emanated entirely from yours* If? 
 
 " k' you will adopt this latter altern.ative 
 you will add one more to the many obliga- 
 tions under which your friendship has placed 
 me". 
 
 " I have serious reasons to believe that the 
 possession of my money, and the discovery of 
 any peculiar arrangements relating to the dis- 
 posal of it, will be object* (after my decease) 
 
 of the fraud and conspiracy of an unscfupa- 
 lous person. I am therefore anxious — for 
 your sake, in the first place — that no suspicion 
 of the existence of this letter should be con- 
 veyed to the mind of the person to whom I 
 allude. And I am equally desirous — for Mrs. 
 Girdlestone's sake, in the second place — that 
 this same person should be entirely ignorant 
 that the legacy will pass into Mrs. Girdle- 
 stone's possession if your nephew is not mar- 
 ried in the ^iven time. I know George's 
 easy, pliable disposition ; I dread the attempts 
 that will be made to. practice oq it; and I 
 feel sure that the prudent course will be ' 
 to abstain from trusting him with secrets, the 
 rash revelation of which might be followed by 
 serious and even dangerous results. 
 
 " Statfi the conditions, therefore, to your 
 nephew as if they were your own. Let him 
 think they have been suggested to your mind 
 by the new responsibilities imposed on you as 
 a man of property, by )our position in my 
 will, and by your consequent anxiety to pro- 
 vide for the perpetuation of the family name. 
 If these reasons are riot sufficient to satisfy 
 him there ean be no objection to your refer- 
 ring him, for ai|y further explanations which 
 lie may desire, to his wedding-day. 
 
 '• I have done. . My last wislies are now 
 
 confided to you, in implicit reliance on your 
 
 honor, and on your tender regard for the 
 
 memory of your friend. Of the miserable 
 
 circumstances whicli compel me to write as I 
 
 ; liave written here I say nothing. You will 
 
 j hear of them, if my life is spared, from my 
 
 j own lips, tor you will be the first friend whom 
 
 j I shall consult in my dilficulty and distress. 
 
 i Keep this letter strictly secret, and strictly in 
 
 your own possession, until my requests are 
 
 j eomplicd with. Let no human being but 
 
 j yourself know where it is, on .any pretense 
 
 I whatever. 
 
 "■ Believe me, dear Admiral Bartram, 
 " Affectionately your»', 
 
 " NoKi. Van'stone." 
 
 I " Have you signed. Sir ?" asked Mrs. Le- 
 ' count. •• Let me look the letter over, if you 
 ! pleitse, before we seal it tip." 
 I She read the letter .carefully. In Noel 
 j Vanstone's close, cramped handwriting ^t 
 ; filled two pages of letter-pajjer, and ended 
 j at the top of the third page. Instead of 
 I using an envelope, Mrs. Lecount folded it 
 ; neatly and securely in the old-fashioned way. 
 ^ She lit the taper in the inkstand, and re- 
 ' turned the letter to the writer. 
 ! " Seal it, Mr. Noel," she said, -' with your 
 own hand and your own seal." She extin- 
 guished the taper, and handed him the pen 
 I again. " Address the letter. Sir,' she pro- 
 i ceeded, " to Admiral Bartram, St. Crux-in-the- 
 j Mtirak, Exsex. Now add tiiese words,' and 
 I sign them, above the address : To be kept 
 I in your own possession, and to be opened by 
 f yourself only, on the day of my death — or 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 217- 
 
 ' decease,' if you prefer it — Noel Vanstone. 
 Have you done V Let me look at it again. 
 Quite right, in every particular. Accept my 
 congratulations, Sir. If your wife, has not 
 plotted her. last plot for the Combe -Raven 
 money it is not your fault, Mr. Noel— and not 
 mine !" 
 
 Finding his attention released by the com- 
 pletion of the letter, Noel Vanstone reverted 
 at once to purely personal considerations. 
 " There is my packing - up to be thought of 
 now," he said. " I can't go away without my 
 •warm things." 
 
 " Excuse me. Sir," rejoined Mrs. Leconnt, 
 " there is the Will to be signed first ; and'.there 
 must be two persons found to witness your 
 signature." She looked out of the front win- 
 dow, and saw the carriage ^yaiting at the 
 door. " The coachman will do for one of the 
 witnesses," she said. "s^Hc is in respectaUle 
 service at Dumfries, anQ he can be ibund if 
 he happens to be wanted. We must have 
 one of your own servants, I suppose, for the 
 other witness. They are all detestable wom- 
 en — but the cook is the least ill-looking of th,e 
 three. Send for the cook. Sir, while I go out 
 and call the coschman. When we have got 
 our witnesses here you have only to speak 
 to them in these words : ' I have a document 
 here to sign, and I wish you to write your 
 names on it as witnesses of my signature.' 
 Nothing more, Mr. Noel. Say those few words 
 in your usual manner ; and when the signing 
 is over I will see myself to your packing-up 
 and your warm things." 
 
 She went to the front door, and summoned 
 the coachman to the parlor. On her return 
 she Jouiid the cook already in the room. The 
 cook looked mysteriously olfendcd, and stared 
 without intermission at Mrs. Lecount. In a* 
 minute more the coachman — an elderly man 
 — came in. He was preceded by a relishing 
 odor of whiskey — but his head was Scotch; 
 and nothing but his odor betrayed hiAi. 
 
 •' I have a document here to sign," said 
 Noel Vanstone, repeating his lesson ; " and J 
 wish 'you to write your names on it as wit- 
 nesses of my signature." 
 
 , The coachmau looked at th^ will. The 
 cook never removed her eyes from Mrs. Le- 
 .count. 
 
 *' Ye '11 no object. Sir," said the coachman, 
 with the national caution showing itself in 
 every wrinkle on his facp — "ye '11 no object, 
 Sir, to tell me first what the Doecument may 
 be T' 
 
 ' Mrs. Lecount interposed before Noel Vau- 
 stonc's indignation could express itself in 
 words. 
 
 a sair confronting of Death in a Doecument 
 like yon! A' flesh is grass," continued the 
 coachman, exhaling an additional pufF of 
 whiskey, and looking up devoutly at the ceil-, 
 ing. " Tak' those words in connection with 
 that other Screepture : Many are ca'd, but 
 few are chosen. Tak' that again in connec- 
 tion with Rev'lations, Chapter the First, 
 verses One to Fefteen. Lay the whole to 
 heart, and what 's your Walth then ? Dross, 
 Sirs! And your body '? (Screepture again.) 
 Clay for the potter ! And your life ? (Screep- 
 ture once more.) The Breeth o' your Nos- 
 trils !" 
 
 The cook listenecl as if the cook was at 
 church; but she never removed her eyes from 
 Mrst Lecount. 
 
 " You had better sign. Sir. This is appar- 
 ently some custom prevalent* in Dumfries 
 during the transaction of business," said Mrs. 
 Lecount, resignedly. " The man means well, 
 I dare say." 
 
 She added those last words in a soothing 
 tone, for she saw that Noel Vanstone's indig- 
 nation was fast merging into alarm. The 
 coachman's outburst of exhortatioa seemed 
 to have inspired him with fear as well as dis- 
 gust. 
 
 He dipped the pert in the ink, and signed 
 the Will without uttering a word. The 
 coachman (descending instantly from Theolo- 
 gy to Business) watched the signature with 
 the most scrupulous attention ; and signed his 
 own name as witness, with an implied com- 
 mentary on the proceeding in the form of 
 another puff of wniskey, exhaled through the 
 medium of a heavy sigh. The cook looked 
 away from Mrs. Lecount with an effort — 
 sighed her name in a violent hurry, and look- 
 ed back again with a start, as if she expected 
 to see a loaded pistol (produced in the inter- ' 
 val) in the housekeeper's hands. " Thank 
 you !" said Mrs. Lecount, in her friendliest 
 manner. The cook shut up her lips aggres- 
 sively, '^nd looked at her master. '' You may 
 go!" said her master. The cook coughed 
 contemptuously and went. 
 
 "We shan't keep you long," said Mrs. Le- 
 count, dismissing the coachman. . " In half an 
 hour or less we shall be ready for the journey 
 back." 
 
 The coachman's austere countenance relax- 
 ed for the first time. He smiled mysteriously, 
 and approached Mrs. Lecount on tip-toe. 
 
 " Ye'll no forget one thing, my leddy," he 
 said, with the most ingratiating politenesa. 
 " Ye '11 no tbrget the witnessing, as .weel as 
 the driving, when ye ])ay mc for my day's • 
 wark !" Ue laughed with guttural gravity; 
 
 "You must tell the man, Sir, that this is { and, leaving his atmosphere behind him, stalk 
 your Will," she said. "When he witnesses ed out of the voom. 
 
 your signature, he can see as much for himself 
 if he looks at the top of the page." 
 
 '^Ay, ay," said the coac-hman, looking at 
 the top ol the page immediately. " His last 
 WuU and Testament. Hech, Sirs I there s 
 */8 
 
 Lecount." said Noel Vanstone, as soon as 
 the coachman closed the door — "did 1 hear 
 you tell that man we should be read} in half 
 an hour?" » 
 
 " Yes, Sir I" 
 
218 
 
 NO NMIE. 
 
 " Are you blind ?" 
 
 He asked the question with an^ngry stamp 
 of his foot. Mrs. Lecount looked at him iu 
 ztstonishment. 
 
 " Can't you see the brute is drunk ?" he 
 went on, more and more irritably. "Is my 
 lifejiothing? Am I to be left at the 'mercy 
 of a drunken coachman ? I won't trust that 
 man to drive me for any consideration under 
 heaven ! I 'm surprised you could think of it, 
 Lecount!" 
 
 " The man has been drinking, Sir," said 
 Mrs. Lecount. " It is easy to see and to smell 
 that. But ho is evidently used to drinking. 
 If he is sober enough to walk quite straight, 
 which he certainly does, and.{^o sign his name 
 ID an excellent handwriting, which you may 
 see for yourself on the Will, I venture to think 
 he is sober enough to drive us to Dumfries." 
 
 " Nothing of the sort ! • Yon 're a foreigner, 
 Lecount: you don't understand tfiese people. 
 They drink whiskey from morning to night. 
 Whiskey is the strongest spirit that 's made ; 
 whiskey is notorious for its effect on the brain. 
 Ttell you I won't run (he risk. I never was 
 driven, and I never will be driven, by anybody 
 but a sober man." 
 
 "Must I go back to Dumfries by mvself. 
 Sir?" ^ 
 
 " And leave me here V Leave me alone in 
 this house after what has happened ? How do 
 I know my wife may not come back to-night V 
 How do I know her journey is not a blind to 
 mislead me V Have you no feeling, Lecount V 
 Can you leave me in my miserable situa- 
 tion — ?" He sank into a chair, and burst 
 out crying over his own idea before he had 
 com])leted the e.\pression of it in words. *'Too 
 bad !" he said, with his handkerchief over his 
 face — " too bad 1" 
 
 It was impossible not to pity him. If ever 
 mortal was pitiable, he was the man. tie Iiad 
 broken down at last, under tho conflict of vio- 
 lent emotions which had been roused in him 
 since the morning. The e0brt to follow Mrs. 
 Lecount along the mazes of intricate com- 
 bination through which she had steadily IiyJ 
 the "way had upheld him while that eflfbrt 
 lasted; the moment it was at an end he 
 dropped. The coachman had hastened a re- 
 sult — of which the coachman was lar from 
 being the cause. 
 
 "You surprise me, you distress me, Sir," said 
 Mrs. Lecount. " I entreat you to compose 
 yourself. I will stay here, if you wish it, with 
 pleasure — I will stay here to-night for your 
 .sake. You want rest and quiet after this 
 dreadful day. The coachman shall be instantly 
 sent away, Mr. Noel. I will give him a note 
 to the landlord of the hotel, -and the carriage 
 shall come back for us to-morrow morning with 
 another man to drive it." 
 
 The prospect which those words presented 
 cheered him. He wiped his eyes, afid kissed 
 Mrs. Lecount's hand. 
 
 " Yes," l»e said, faintly ; " sQpd the coach- 
 
 man away — and you stop here. You good' 
 creature! You e.xcellent Lecount ! Send the 
 drunken brute away, and come back directly. 
 We wilt be comfortable by the fire, Lecount 
 — and have a nice little dinner — and try to 
 make it like old times." His weak voice fal- 
 tered ; he returned to the fireside, and melted 
 into tears again under the pathetic influence 
 of hi.s own idea. 
 
 Mrs. Lee.ountlefl him for a minute to dismiss 
 the coachman. When she returned to the par- 
 lor she fgund him with his hand on the bell. 
 
 " What do you want. Sir?" she asked. 
 
 " I want to tell the servants to get your room 
 ready," he answered. " I wish to show you 
 every attention, Lecount." 
 
 " You arc all kindness, Mf. Noel ; but wait 
 one moment. It may bs well to have these 
 papers put out of the way before the servant 
 comes in again. If 3'^u will place the Will 
 and the Sealed Letter together in one envel- 
 ope — and if you will direct it to the admiral — 
 I will take care that the inclosure so addressed 
 is safely placed in Jiis own hands. Will you 
 come to the table, Mr. Noel, only for one mo- 
 ment more?" J. 
 
 No! He was obstinate; he refused to move 
 from the fire ; he Avas sick and tired of writ- 
 ing ; he t\'ished he had never been born, and 
 he loathed the .sight of pen and ink. All Mrs. 
 Lecount's patience, and all Mrs. Lecount's 
 persuasion, were requised to induce him to 
 write the admiral's address for the second time. 
 She only succeeded by bringing the blank 
 envelope to him upon the paper-case, and put- 
 ting it coaxuigly on his lap. He grumbled, he 
 even swore, but he directed the envelo[)e at 
 last in tliese terms j "To Admiral Bartram, 
 • St. Cru.x-in-the-Marsh. Favored by Mrs. Le- 
 (*ount." With that final act of compliance his 
 docility came to an end. He refused, in the 
 fiercest terms, to seal the envelope. 
 
 There was no need to press this proceeding 
 on him. His seal lay ready on the table; and 
 it mattered nothing whether he used it or 
 whether a person in his confidence used it for 
 him. Mrs. Lecount sealed the envelope with 
 its two important inclosurcs placed safely in- 
 side. * 
 
 She opened her tpvelling-bag for the last 
 time, and, pausing for a moment before she put 
 the sealed packet awaj-^, looked at it with a 
 triumph too deep for words. She smiled as 
 she dropped it into the bag. Not the shadow 
 of a suspicion that the will might contain 
 superfluous phrases and expressions which no 
 practical lawyer would have used ; not the 
 vestige of a doubt whether the letter was quite 
 as complete a document as a practical lawyer 
 might have made it, troubled her mind. In 
 blind reliance--— born of her hatred for Magda- 
 len and her hunger for revenge — in blind 
 reliance on her own abilities, and on her 
 friend's law, she trusted the future implicitly 
 to the promise of the morning's work. 
 
 As she locked her travelling-bag Noel Van- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 219 
 
 stone rang the bell. On this occasion the 
 Bummons was answered by Louisa. 
 
 " Get the sj)are room ready," said her mas- 
 ter; "this lady will sleep here to-night. And 
 nir my warm things ; this lady and 1 arc going 
 away to-morrow morning." 
 
 The civil and submissive Louisa received 
 her orders in sullen silence, darfed an angry 
 look at her master's im])enetrable guest, and 
 left the roon> The servants were evidently 
 all attached to their mistress's interests, and 
 were all of one opinion on the subject of Mrs. 
 Lecount. 
 
 "That's done!'' .faid Noel Vanstone, with a 
 sigh of infinite relief. " Come and sit down, 
 Lecount. Let 's bp comfortable — let *8 gossip 
 over the fire." 
 
 Mrs. Lecount accepted the invitation, and 
 drew an easy-ehair to his side. He took her 
 hand with a confidential tenderness, and held 
 it in his, while the talk went on. A stranger 
 looking in through the window would have 
 taken them for mother and son,, and would 
 have thought to himself, "What a happy 
 home ! ' 
 
 TIh> gossip, led by Noel Vanstone^ con- 
 sisted, as usual, of an endless string of ques- 
 tions, and was devoted entirely to the subject 
 of himself and his future prospect^. Where 
 would Lecount take him to wlien they went 
 away the next morning? Why to London? 
 Why should he be left in London, while Le- 
 count went on to St. Crux to give the admiral 
 the Ij<nter and the Will ? Because his wife 
 might follow him if he went to the admiral's? 
 Well, there was something in that. And 
 because he ought to be safely concealed from 
 her in, some comfortable lodging near Mr. 
 Ix»scombe ? Why near Mr. Loscombe ? Ah, 
 ^es, to be sure — to know what the law would 
 do to help him. Would the law set him free 
 from the Wretch who had deceived him? 
 IIow tiresome of Lecount not to know ! Would 
 the law say he had gone and married himself 
 a second time because he had been living 
 with the Wretch like husband and wife in 
 Scotland ? Anything that publicly assumed 
 to be a marriage w<is a marriage (he had 
 heard) in Scotland ? IIow exces.sively tire- 
 some of I^iccount to sit there and .say she 
 knew nothing about it! AVas he to stay long 
 in I^ondon by himself, with noboily but Mr. 
 I>oscombe to speak to ? Would Lee ouiit come 
 ba<.k to him as soon as she had put those im- 
 portant ])aper3 in the admiral's own hands ? 
 Would Lecount consider herself still in his 
 service? Tiie good lyccount I the excellent 
 Lecount! And after all the law business was 
 over, what then ? Why not leave this horrid 
 Knglai^ and go abroad again ? Why not go 
 to France, to some cheap plat-e near Paris? 
 Say VersailK'S ? say SL Oermain ? In a nice 
 little French house — cheap? With a nice 
 French bonne to cook — who wouldn't waste 
 his substance in the greaae-pot ? With a nice 
 little garden — where he could vrork himself, 
 
 and get health, and save the expense of keep- 
 ing a gardener ? It wasn't a bad idea? Antl 
 it seevned to promise well for the future — 
 didn't it, Ivccount ? 
 
 So he ran on — the poor, weak creatur^ the 
 abject, miserable little man I * 
 
 As the darkness gathered at the close of 
 the sliort November day, he began to grow 
 drowsy — his ceaseless questions came to an 
 end at last — he fell asleep. The wind outside 
 sang its mournful winter-song; the tramp of 
 passing foof8tcj)s, the roll of passing Avheels 
 on the road, ceased in dreary silence. He 
 slept on quietly. The firehght rosp and fell 
 on his -wizen litlle face, and his nerveless, 
 drooping hands. Mrs. Lecount had not pitied 
 him yet. She began to pity him now. Her 
 point was gained ; her interest in his will was 
 secured ; he had put his future life, of his own 
 accord, under her fostering care — the fire was' 
 comfortable ; the cireumstajices were favora- 
 ble to the growth of Christian feeling. " Poor 
 wretch !" said Mrs. Lecount, looking at him 
 with a grave compassion — " Poor wretch 1" 
 
 The dinner- hour roused him. He was 
 cheerful at dinner; he reverted to the idea 
 of the chenp little house in France ; he smirk- 
 ed and simpered ; and talked French to Mrs. 
 Lecount, while the housemaid and Louisa 
 waited, turn and turn about, under protest. 
 When dinner was over he returned to his 
 comfortable chair before the fire, and Mrs. 
 Lecount followed him. Ho resumed the con- 
 versation — which meant, in his case, rej)eat- 
 ing his questions. But he was not so quick 
 and ready with them as he had been earlier 
 in the day. They began to flag — they con- 
 tinued, at longer and longer intervals — tney 
 ceased altogether. Toward nine o'clock he 
 feel asleep again. 
 
 It was not a quiet sleep this time. He 
 muttered, and ground his teeth, and rolled 
 his hyad from side to side of the chair. Mrs. 
 LeVount purposely made noise enough to rouse 
 him. He woke with a vacunt eye and a 
 flushed cheek. He walked about the room 
 restles!<ly, with a new idea in his mind — the 
 idea of writing a terrible letter; a letter of 
 eternal farewell to his wife. How was it to 
 be written? In what language should he ex- 
 press his feelings? The j)Owers of Shake- 
 speare himself would be unequal to the emer- 
 gency ! He had been tin: victim of an outrage 
 entirely without parallel. A wretch had crept 
 into his bosom 1 A viper had hidden herself 
 at his fireside ! When; could wonis be found 
 to brand her with the infamy .she deserved ? 
 He stopped with a suffocating sense in him of 
 his own impotent rage — he stoppcfi and shook 
 his fist tremulously in the empty air. 
 
 Mr.s. ly<'count interfered with an energy 
 and a rcvjiution inspired by serious alarm. 
 After the heavy strain that had been laid on 
 his weakness already, such an outbreak of 
 passionate agitation as was now bursting from 
 him might be the destraction of his rest that 
 
220 
 
 NO NAME, 
 
 night and of his strength to travel the next 
 day. With infinite difficulty, with endless 
 promises to return to the subject, an(i to acT- 
 vise him about it in the morning, she prevailed 
 on him at last to go up stairs and compose 
 himself for the night. She gave him her arm 
 to assist him. On the way up stairs his atten- 
 tion, to her great relief, became suddenly 
 absorbed by a new fancy. He remembered 
 a certain warm and comforting mixture of 
 wine, egg, sugar, and spices, which she had 
 often been accustomed to make for him in 
 former times, and which he thought he should 
 relish exceedingly before he went to bed. 
 Mrs. Lecount lielped him on with his dressing- 
 gown, then went down stairs again to make 
 his warm drink for him at the parlor fire. 
 
 She rang the bell, and ordered the nec- 
 essary ingredients for the mixture ■ in Noel 
 Vanstone's name. The servants, with the 
 small, ingenious malice of their race, brought 
 .up the materials one by one, and kept her 
 waiting for each of them as long as possible. 
 She had got the saucepan, and the spoon, and 
 the tumbler, and the nutmeg-grater, and the 
 wine— but not the egg, the su^ar,'or the spices 
 — when she heard him above walkino- back- 
 ward and forward n9isily in his room, exciting 
 himself on the old subject again beyond all 
 doubt. 
 
 She went up stairs once m6re ; but he was 
 too quick for her — he heard her outsjde the 
 door ; andwhen. she opened it she found him 
 in his chair, with his back cunningly turned 
 toward her. Knowing him too well to attempt 
 
 any remonstrance, she merely announced the 
 speedy arrival of ihe warm drink, and turned 
 to leave the room. On her 'way out she 
 noticed a table in a corner, with an inkstand 
 and a paper- case on it, and tried, without 
 attracting his attention, to take the writinrr 
 materials away. He was too quick for her 
 again. He asked angrily if. she doubted his 
 promise. She put the writing materials back 
 on the table, for fear of offending hip,- and 
 left the room. 
 
 In half an hour more the mixture 'was ready. 
 She carried it up to him, foaming and fragrant^ 
 ina large tumbler. "He will sleep after 
 this," she thought to herself as she opened 
 t!ie door; " I have made it stronger than usual 
 on purpose." 
 
 He had changed his place. He was sitting 
 at the table in the corner — still with his back 
 to her — writing. This time his- quick ears 
 had not served him. This time she had caught 
 him in the fact. '^ 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Noel ! Mr. Noel !" she said, re- 
 proachfully, " what is your promise worth ?" 
 
 He made no answer. He was sitting with 
 his left elbow on the table, and with his head 
 resting on his left hand. His right hand lay 
 back on the paper, with the pen lying loosed 
 in it. " Your drink, Mr, Noel," she said, in a 
 kinder tone, feehng unwilling to offend him. 
 He took no notice of her. 
 
 She went to the' table to rouse him. Was i 
 he deep in thought ? ' 
 
 He was dead ! ' , 
 
 THE END OF THE FIKTH SCENIS. 
 
 BETWEEN TH*: SCENES. 
 
 •PROM MRS. NOKL VANSTOITE TO MR. LOSOOMBE. 
 
 " Park Terrace, St. John's VTood, Nov. 6. 
 
 " Dear Sir — I cama to London yesterday 
 for the purpose of seeing a relative, leaving 
 Mr.-Vanstone at Baliol Cottage, and propos" 
 ing to return to him in the course of a week., 
 I reached London late last night, and drove 
 to these lodgings, having written to secure 
 accommodation beforehand, 
 
 " This morning's post has brought me a let- 
 ter from my own- maid, whom I left at Baliol 
 Cottage, with icstructions to write to me if 
 anj^thing extraordinary took place in my ab- 
 sence. You will find the girl's letter inclosed 
 ID this. I have had some experience of her, 
 and I believe she is to be strictly depended on 
 to tell the truth, 
 
 " I purposely abstain from troubling you by 
 any useless allusions ta myself. When you 
 have read my maid's lette'r, you will under- 
 stand the shock whiQh the news contained in 
 
 It has caused me. I can only repeat that I 
 place implicit belief in her statement. Lam 
 firmly persuaded that my husband's former 
 housekeeper has found him out, has practiced 
 on his weakness in my absence, and has pre- 
 vailed on him to make another Will. From 
 what I know of this woman, I feel no doubt 
 that she has used her influence over Mr. Van- 
 stone to deprive me, if possible, of all future 
 interest in my husband's fortune. 
 
 " Under such circumstances as these, it is in 
 the last degree important — for more reasons 
 than I need mention here — that I should see 
 Mr. Vanstone, and come to an explanation 
 with him at the earliest possible opportunity. 
 You will find thaj; my maid thoughtfully kept 
 her letter open until the last moment before 
 post-time — without, however, having any later 
 news to give me than Mrs. Lecount was to 
 sleep at the cottage Jast night, and that she 
 and JMr, Vanstone were to-Jeave together this 
 morning. But for that last piece of intelli- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 221 
 
 gence I should have been on my way back to 
 Scotland before now. As it is, I can not de- 
 cide for myself what I ought to do next. • My 
 goin"- back to Dumfries, after Mr. Vanstone 
 has l^eft it, seems like taking a journey for 
 nothing ; and my staying' in London appears 
 to be almost equally useless. 
 
 " Will you kindly advise me in this difficul- 
 ty ? I win couje to you at Lincoln's Inn at 
 any time this afternoon or to-morrow which 
 you mav appoint. My next few hours are 
 enTaged. As soon as this letter is dispatched 
 T am going to Kensington, with the object of 
 ascertaining whether ceitain. doubts I feel 
 tjbout the means by which Mrs. Lecount may 
 have ac^'omplished her discovery arc well- 
 founded or not. If you will let me have your 
 answer by return of post, I will not fail to get 
 back to St. John's Wood in time Jo receive it. 
 
 " Believe me, dear. Sir, yours smcefely, 
 " Magdalen Vanstone." 
 
 n. 
 
 KnOM MR. LOtiCOMBK TO MKS. NOKL VANSTONK. 
 
 " Lincoln's I.vn. Nov. ^. 
 
 " Dear Madam — Your letter and its in- 
 ' Insure have caused me great concern and 
 surprise. Pressure of business allows me no 
 hope of being able to ."^ee you cither to-day or 
 to-morrow morning. But if three o'clock to- 
 morrow afternoon will suit you, at that hour 
 you will find me at your service. 
 
 "I can not pretend to offer a positive opin- 
 ion until I know more of the particulars con- 
 nected with this e.xtraordinary business than I 
 find communicated either in your letter or in 
 your maid's. But with this reserve I venture 
 to suggest that your remaining in London 
 Hntil»to-morrow may possibly lead to other 
 results besides your consultation at ray cham- 
 bers. There is at least a chance that you or I 
 may hear something further in tliis strange 
 matter by the morning's post. 
 
 " I remain, dear Madam, 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 
 "JOUN LOSCOMBE." 
 
 III. 
 
 FROM MRS. NOEL VANSTONE TO MISS GARTH. 
 
 " Kovcmbcr 5, Two o'clncl: 
 
 " I have just returned from Westmoreland 
 House — after purposely leaving it in secret, 
 and purposely avoiding you under your own 
 roof. . You shall know wby I came, and why 
 I went away. It is due to my remembrance 
 of old times not to treat you like a stranger, 
 although I can never again treat you like a 
 friend. 
 
 " I travelled yesterday from the North to 
 London. My only object in taking this long 
 journey was to sec Norah once more. I had 
 been suffering for many weary weeks past 
 such remorse as only miserable women like me 
 can feel.- Perhaps the suffering weakened 
 me, perhaps it roused some old forgotten ten- 
 
 derness— God knows! — T can't explain it; I 
 can only tell you that I l^gan to think of No- 
 rah by dav, and to dream of Norah by night, 
 till I was almost heart-broken. I have no bet^ 
 ter reason than this to give for running all the 
 risks which I ran, and coming to London to 
 see her. I don't wish to claim more for myself 
 than I deserve ; I don't wish to tell you I was 
 the reformed and repenting creature whom 
 yott might have approved. I had only one 
 feeling in me that I know of I wanted to put 
 my ftrins round Worah's neck, and cry my 
 heart out on Norah's "bosom. Childish enough, 
 I dare say. Something might have come of 
 it; nothing might have cojne of it — who 
 knows ? 
 
 " I had no rrieans of finding Norah without 
 your assistance. However you might disap- 
 prove of what I had done, I thought you would 
 not refuse to help me to find my sister. When 
 I lay do\\n hst night in my strange bed, I said 
 to inysclf, ' I will ask Miss Garth, for my 
 father's sake and my mother's sake, to tell me." 
 You don't know what a comfort I felt in that 
 thought. How should you ? What do good 
 women like you know of miserable sinners 
 like me ? All you know is that you pray for 
 us at church. 
 
 " Well, I fell asleep happily that night — for 
 the first time since my marriage. When the 
 morning came I paid the penalty of daring to 
 be happy, only for one night. When the 
 morning came a letter came with it which told 
 me that my bitterest enemy on earth (you have 
 middled sufficiently with my afliiirs to know 
 what enemy I mean) had revenged herself on 
 me in my absence. In following the impulse 
 which led me to my sister I had gone to my 
 ruin. 
 
 " The mischief was beyond all present reme- 
 dy when I received the news of it. Whatever 
 had happened, whatever might happen, I made 
 up my mind to persist in my resolution of 
 seeing Norah before I did anything else. I 
 suspected you of being concerned in the disas- 
 ter which had overtaken me — because I felt 
 positively certain at Aldborough that you and 
 Mrs. Lecount had written to each other. But 
 r nefer suspected Norah. If I lay on my 
 death -bed at this moment I could say with a 
 safe conscience I never suspected Norah. 
 
 " So I went this morning to Westmoreland 
 House to ask you for my sister's address, and 
 to acknowledge plainly that I suspected you 
 of being again in correspondence with Mrs. 
 Lecount. 
 
 " AVhen I inquired for you at the door they 
 told me you had gone out, but that you were 
 expected back before long. They asked me 
 if I would see your sister, who was then in the 
 school-room. I desired that your sister should 
 on no account be disturbed : my business was 
 not with her, but with you. I begged to be 
 allowed to wait in a room by myself until you 
 returned. ^ 
 
 " They showed me into the double room on 
 
222 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 the ground-floor, divided by curtains — as it 
 was when I last remember it. There was a 
 fire in the outer division of the room, but 
 none in the inner; and for that reason, I sup- 
 pose, the curtains were drawn. The servant 
 was very civil and attentive to me. I Iiave 
 learned to be thankful for civility arid atten- 
 tion, and I spoke to her as cheerfully as I 
 could. I said to her, ' I shall see Miss Garth 
 here as she comes up to the door, and I can 
 beckon her in throuirh the long window.' The 
 servant said I could do ^, if you came that 
 way — but that you let yourself in sometimes 
 with your own key by the back garden-gate; 
 and if you did tjiis, she would take care to let 
 you know of my visit. I mention these trifles 
 to show you that there was no premeditated 
 deceit in my mind when I cime to the house. 
 
 "I waited a weary time, and you never 
 .came. I don't know whether my impatience 
 made me think so, or whether fche large fire 
 burning made the room really as hot as I felt 
 it to be — I only know that after a while I 
 passed through the curtains into the inner 
 room to try the cooler atmosphere. 
 
 " I walked to the long window which leads 
 into the back garden, to look out; and •almost 
 at the same time I heard the door opened — 
 the door 6f the room 1 had just left — and 
 your voice and the voice of some other woman, 
 a stranger to me, talking. The stranger was 
 one of the parlor - boarders, I dare say. I 
 gathered from the first words you exchanged 
 together that you had met in the passage — 
 she on her way down stairs, and you on your 
 way in from the back garden. Her next 
 question and your next answer informed me 
 that this person was a friend of my sister's, 
 who felt a strong interest in her, and who 
 knew that you had just returned from a visit 
 to Norah. .So far I only hesitated to show 
 myself because I shrank, in my painful situa- 
 tion, from facing a stranger. But when I 
 heJird my own name immediately afterward 
 on your lips and on hers, then I purposely 
 came nearer to the curtain between us, and 
 purposely listened. 
 
 , " A mean action, you will say ? Call it 
 mean, if you like. What better can ytm ex- 
 pect irom such a woman as I am ? 
 
 " You were always famous for your memory. 
 There is no necessity for my repeating the 
 words you spoke to your friend, and the words 
 your friend spoke to you, hardly an hour since. 
 When you read these lines you will know, as 
 well as I know, what those words told me. I 
 ask for no particulars; I will take all your 
 reasons and all your excuses for granted. It 
 is enough for me to know that you and Mr. 
 Pendril have been searching for me ^gain, 
 and that Norah is in the conspiracy this time, 
 to reclaim me in spite of myself. It is enough 
 for me to know that ray letter to my sister has 
 been turned into a trap to catch me, and that 
 Mrs. I^couat's revenge has accomplished its 
 
 object by means of infprmation received frdto 
 Norah's lips. 
 
 " Shall I tell you what I suffered when I 
 heard the sethings? No: it would be only a 
 waste of time to tell you. Whatever I suffer, 
 I deserve it — don't I ? , 
 
 " I Avaited in that inner room — knowing my 
 own violent temper, and not trusting myself 
 to see you, after what I had heard — I waited 
 in that inner room, trembling'lest the servant 
 should tell you of my visit before I could find 
 an opportunity of leaving the house. No such 
 misfortune happened. The servant, no doubt, 
 heard the voices up stairs, and supposed that 
 we had met each other in the passage. I don't 
 know how long or how short a time it was be- 
 fore you left the room to go and take off your 
 bonnet- — you went, and your friend went with 
 you. I raised the long windoW' softly and . 
 stepped into the back garden. The way by 
 which you returned to the house was the way 
 by which I left it. No blajne attaches to the 
 servant. 4rS usual, where I am concerned, 
 nobody is to blame but me. 
 
 " Time enough has passed now to quiet my 
 mind a little. You kliow how strong I am ? 
 You remember how I used to fight against all 
 my illnesses when I was a child ? Now I am 
 a woman, I fight against my miseries in the 
 same way. Don't pity me, Miss Gai'th ! Don't 
 pity me ! . 
 
 " I have no harsh feeling against Norah. 
 The hope I had of seeing her is a hope taken 
 from me; the consolation I had in writing to 
 her is a consolation denied me for the future. 
 I am cut to the heart; bi^t I have no angry 
 feeling toward my sister. She means well, 
 poor soul — I dare say she means well. It 
 would distress her if she knew what has hap- 
 pened. Don't tell her. Conceal my visit, 
 and burn my letter. 
 
 •" A last word to yourself, and I have done. 
 
 " If I rightly understand my present situa- 
 tion, your spies are still searching for me to 
 just as little purpose as they searched at York- 
 Dismiss them — you are wasting your money 
 to no purpose. If you discovered me tp-mor- 
 row, what could you do ? My position has 
 altered. I am no longer the poor outcast girl, 
 the vagabond public performer, whom you 
 once hunted after. I have done what I told 
 you I would do — I have made the general 
 sense of propriety my accomplice this time. 
 Do you know who I am ? I am a respectable 
 married woman, accountable for my actions 
 to nobody under heaven but my husband. I 
 have got a place in the world, and a name in 
 the world, at last. Even the law, which is 
 the friend of all you respectable people, has 
 recognized my existence, and has become mi/ 
 friend too. The Archbishop of Canterbury 
 gave me his license to be married, and the 
 rector of Aldborough performed the service. 
 If I found your spies following me in the 
 street, and if I chose to claim protection from 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 223 
 
 them, tlie law would acknow^KiIgp my claim. 
 You ibrget what wonders my wi(;kedness has 
 done for me. It has made Nobody's Child 
 Somebody's Wife. 
 
 "If you will give these consi( 
 <lne weight — if yon will exert 
 rommon-sense, I have no fear of 
 to appeal to mynewly-found friend and pro- 
 tector — the law. You will feel by this time 
 that yo*u have meddled with me at last to some 
 pnrjiose. I am estranged from Norah — I am 
 djscovcrcd'by piy husljand — 1 am defeated by 
 Mrs. Leeount. You have driven me to the 
 last extremity ; you have strengi hened m(*to 
 fight the battle of my life with the resolution 
 which only a lost and fri.-ndlcss woman can j 
 fceli Badly as your scliemes have prospered, I 
 they have not proved totally useless after all ! i. 
 
 " I have no more to say. If you ever speak 
 about me to Norah, tell her that a day may I 
 come 3\'hen she will see me again — the day j 
 when we two sisters have recovered our nat- 
 ftral rights; the day when I put Norah's for- 
 tune into Norah's hand. 
 
 " Those are my last words. Remember 
 them the next time you feel tempted to meddle 
 with me again. Magdalkn Vanjtone." 
 
 IV. 
 
 VROM Mil. I.OSCOMBE TO MKS. NOKL VANSTONP. 
 
 • "Lincoln's 3nx, J\'<n). C. 
 
 " Dkar Madam — This morning's post has 
 doubtless brought you the eame shocking news 
 which it has brought to me. You must know 
 by this time that a terrible afllictlon has be- 
 fallen you •—the affliction of your husband's 
 sudden death. • 
 
 " I am on the point of starting for the North, 
 to make all needful impiirics, and to perform 
 whatever dutjes I may with propriety under- 
 take, as solicitor to the deceased gentleman. 
 Let me earnestly recommend you not to follow 
 me to Baliol Cottage until I have had time to 
 write to you first, and to give you sueh advice 
 HH I can not, through ignorance of all the cir- 
 cumstances, jiretend to offer now. You may 
 rely on my writing, after my arrival in Scot- 
 land, by the first post. 
 
 " I remain, dear Madam, 
 
 "Faithfully yours,. 
 
 "JoirN LoscoMnE." 
 
 FHOM MR. TKNDUIL TO MI.SS CAKTH. 
 
 "SKARLt: Stp.kki, iVnr. li. 
 
 ♦• Dkak Miss (Iarth — I return you Mrs. 
 Noel Vanstone's letter. I can understand your 
 mortifieation at the tone in whicii it is written, 
 and your distress at the manner in which this 
 unliappy woman lias interpreted the conversa- 
 tion that she oviTheard at your hodlb. I can 
 not honestly add that I lament what has hap- 
 pened. My opinion has nevi^r altered since 
 the Combc-Ravcn time. I Relieve Mrs. Noel 
 
 Yanstone to be one of the most reckless,-des- 
 perate, and perverted women living; and any 
 circumstances that estrange her from her sis- 
 ter are circumstances which I welcome lor lier 
 sister's sake. 
 
 " There can not be a moment's doubt on 
 the course you ought to follow in this matter. 
 Even Mrs. Noel Vahstone herself acknowl- 
 edges the propriety of sparing her sister addi- 
 tional and unnecessary distress. By all means 
 kec]) Miss Yanstone in ignorance of the visit 
 to Kensington, ^nd of the letter which has fol- 
 lowed it. It would be not only unwise, but 
 absolutely cruel, to enlighten her. If we had 
 any remedy to apjily, or even any hope to 
 offer, we might feel some hesitation in keeping 
 our secret. But there is no remedy and no • 
 hope. ]\Irs. Noel Yanstone is peri'ectly jus- 
 tified in the view she takes of her own position. 
 Neither you nor I can assert the smallest right 
 to control her. 
 
 " I have already taken the necessary meas- 
 ures for putting an end to our useless incjuiries. 
 In a few days I will write to Miss A^anstone, 
 and will do my best to tranquillize her mind on 
 the subject of her sister. If I can find no 
 sufficient excuse to satisfy her, it will be better 
 she should think we have discovered nothing 
 than that she sliould know the truth. 
 " Believe me, most truly yours, 
 
 "William Pkndkil." 
 
 VI. 
 
 rnOM MR. I.OSGOJIUE TO MRS. NOKI. VANSTONi:. . 
 
 "I,ixroLx's Inn, Xov. 15. 
 
 [,'!;IV,STK.1 
 
 " DfiAR Mai>am — In cohipliance v.ith your 
 request. I now proceed to communicate to you 
 in writing what (but for the calamity which 
 has so recently, befallen you) I should have 
 preferred communicating by word of mouth. 
 Be pleased to consider this letter as strictly 
 confidential between yourself "and me. * 
 
 " I inclose, at your desire, a copy of the 
 Will executed by your late husband on the 3d 
 of this month. There can be no (juestion of 
 the genuineness of the original document. I 
 protested, as a matter of form, against Admiral 
 Bartram's solicitor assuming a position of- au- 
 thority at Baliol Cottage. But he took the 
 position nevertheless, acting as legal repre- 
 sentative of the sole Executor under the sec- 
 ond Will. I am bound to say I should have 
 done the same myselt in his place. 
 
 "The serious question follows — What can 
 we do for the best 'in your interests? The 
 Will executed under my professional super- 
 intendence, on the 30th of September last, is 
 at present superseded and n;voked by the. 
 second aftd later Will executed on the 3d of 
 November. Can we dispute this document ? 
 
 " I doubt the possibility of disputing the 
 new Will on the face of it. It is no doubt 
 irregularly expressed, but it is dated, signed, 
 and witnessed as the law directs; and the 
 
224 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 perfectly simple and straiglitfoi*ward provis- 
 ions that it contains are in no respect, that I 
 can see, technically open to attack. 
 
 "This being the case, can we dispute the 
 Will on, the ground that it has been executed 
 when the Testator was not in a fit state to 
 dispose of his own property, or when the Tes- 
 tator was subjected to undue and improper 
 influence? 
 
 " In the first ^of these cases the medical evi- 
 dence would put an obstacle in our way. We 
 can not assert that previous illness had weak- 
 ened the Testator's mind. It is clear that he 
 died suddenly, as the doctors had all along 
 declared he would die, of disease of the heart. 
 He was out walking in his garden, as usual, 
 on the day of his death ; he ate a hearty din- 
 ner; none of the persons in his service no- 
 ticed any change in him ; he was a little more 
 irritable with them than usual, but that was 
 all. It is impossible to attack the state of his 
 faculties. There is no case to go into court 
 with, so far. 
 
 " Can we declare that he acted under un- 
 due influence, or, in plainer terms, under the 
 influence of Mvs. Lecount ? • 
 
 " There are serious difficulties, again^ in the 
 way of taking this, course. We can not as- 
 sert, for example, that Mi-s. Lecount has as- 
 sumed a place, in the Will which she has no 
 fair claim to occupy. Bhe has cunningly lim- 
 ited her own interest, not only to what is 
 fairly her due, but to what the late Mr. Mi- 
 chael Vanstone himself had the intention of 
 leavino- her. If I were examined on the sub- 
 ject, I should be compelled. to acknowledge 
 that I had heai'd him express this intention 
 myself It is only the truth to say that I 
 have heard him express it more than once. 
 There is no point of attack in Mrs. Lecount's 
 legacy, and there }s no point of attack in your 
 late husband's choice of an executor. He has 
 made the wise choice, and the natufal choice, 
 of the oldest aed trustiest friend he haid in 
 the world. 
 
 " One more consideration remains, the most 
 important which I have yet approached, and 
 therefore the consideration which I have re- 
 served to the last. On the 30th of Septem- 
 ber the Testator executes a will, leaving his 
 widow sole executrix, with a legacy of eighty 
 thousand pounds. On the 8d of November 
 tollowi«g he expressly revokes this Will, and 
 leaves another in its stead, in which his widow 
 is never once mentioned, and in which the 
 whole residue of his estate, after payment of 
 one comparatively trifling legacy, is left to a 
 friend. 
 
 " It rests entirely with you to say whether 
 any valid reason ^ah or can mbt be produced 
 to explain such an extraordinary proceeding 
 as this. If no reason can be assigned — and 
 I know of none myself — I think we have a 
 point here which deserves our careful con- 
 sideration, for it may be a point which is 
 open to attack. Pray understand that I am 
 
 ' now appealing^ you solely as a lawyer, who 
 is obliged to loOK all possible eventualities in 
 the face. I have no wish to intrude on your 
 private aff"airs ; I have no wish to write a 
 woi'd which could be construed into any indi- 
 rect reflection on youfself. 
 • " If you tell me that, so far as yo.u know, 
 your husband capriciously struck you out of 
 his Will without assignable reason or motive 
 for doing so, and withaut other obvious ex- 
 planation of his conduct than that he acted 
 in this matter entirely under the influence of 
 Mrs. Lecount, I will immediately take Coun- 
 sels* opinion touching the propriety of dis- 
 puting the Will on this ground. If, on the 
 other hand, you tell me that there are reasons 
 (Ijnown to yourself, though unknown to me) 
 for not taking the course I propose, I will 
 accept that intimation witliout troubling you, 
 unless you wish it, to explain yourself further. 
 In this latter event I will write to you again, 
 for I shall then have something more to say 
 which may greatly surprise you, on the sub-* , 
 ject of the Will. 
 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 
 " John LoscoMBE." . 
 
 FROM MRS. NOKL VANSTONE TO MR. LOSCOMBE. 
 
 '• JVov. 16. 
 
 " Dear Sir — Accept my "best thanks for 
 the kindness and consideration with which 
 you have treated me, and let the anxieties 
 under which I am now suff'ering plead my 
 excuse if I reply to your letter without cere- 
 mony in the fewest possible words. -f 
 
 " I have my own reasons for not hesitating 
 to answer your question in the negative. It 
 is impossible for us to go to law, as you pro- 
 pose, on the subject of the Will. 
 
 " Believe me, dear Sir, yours gratefully, 
 
 ",J|IIagdalen Vanstoxe." 
 
 vm. 
 
 prom mi?. loscombe to mrs. noel vanstonk. 
 " Lincoln's Inn, Nov. 17. 
 
 "Dear Madam — I beg to acknowledge 
 the receipt of your letter answering my pro- 
 posal in the negative for reasons of your own. 
 Under these cii'cumstances — on which I oflfer 
 no comment — I beg" to perform my promise 
 of again communicating with you on the sub- 
 ject of your late husband's will. 
 
 " Be so kind as to look at your copy of 
 the'document. You will find that the clause 
 which devises the whole residue of your hus- 
 band's estate to Admiral Bartram, ends in 
 these terms : To be by him applied to such uses 
 as he may think Jit. , 
 
 " Simple as they may seem to you, these are 
 very remaj:kable words. In the first place, no 
 practical liiwyer would have used them in 
 drawing your husband's Will. In the second 
 place, they are utterly useless to serve any 
 plain, straightforward purpose. The legacy 
 
ISO NAME. 
 
 225 
 
 is left unconditionally to the admiral ; and in 
 the same breath he is told that he inay do 
 what he likes with it! The phrase points 
 clearly to one of two conclusions : It has 
 either dropped from the writer's pen in pure 
 ignorance, or it has been carefully set where 
 it appears to servo the purpose of a snare. I 
 am firmly persuaded that the latter explana- 
 tion is the right one: The words are expressly 
 intended to mislead some persoiA-yourself, in 
 all pi-obability — and the cunning which has 
 put them to that use is a cunning which (as 
 constantly happens when uninstructed per- 
 sons meddle with law) has overreached itself. 
 My thirty years experience reads those words 
 in a sense exactly opposite to the sense which 
 they are intended to convey. I say that Ad- 
 miral Bartram is not free to apply his les;acy 
 to such purposes as he may think fit — I be- 
 lieve ho is privately controlled by a supple- 
 mentary dociument in the shape of a Secret 
 Ti-ust. " 
 
 " I can easily explain to you what I mean 
 by a Secret Trust- It is usually contained in 
 liie form of a letter from a I'estator to his 
 Kxecutors, privately informing them of tes- 
 tamentary intentions on his part, which h^ 
 has not thought prop«r openly to acknowledge 
 in his Will. 1 leave you a hundred pounds ; 
 and I write a private letter enjoining you, on 
 taking the legacy, not to devote it to your 
 own purposes, but to give it to some third 
 person, whose ijame I nave my own reasons 
 for not mentioning itt my Will. That is « 
 Secret Trust. 
 
 " If I am right in my own persuasion that 
 such fi document as I here describe is at this 
 moment in Admiral Bartram's possession — a 
 persuasion based, in the first instance, on the 
 extraordinary words that I have quoted to 
 you ; and, in the second instance, on purely 
 legal coK«ider3tions with which it is needless 
 to encumber my letter — if I am right in this 
 opinion, the discovery of the Secret Trust 
 would be, in all probability, a most important 
 discovery to your interests. I will not trouble 
 you with technical reasons, nor with references 
 to my experience in these matters", which onh- 
 a professional man could understand. I will 
 merely say that I don't give up your cause 
 as. utterly lost until the conviction now im- 
 pressed on my niin<l is proved to hi- wrong. 
 
 " I can add no more while this important 
 
 question still remains involved in doubt ; 
 
 neither can I suggest any means of solving 
 
 that doubt. If tlie existence of the Trust 
 
 29 
 
 was proved, and if the nature of the stipula- 
 tions contained in it was made known to me, 
 I could then say positively what the legal 
 chances were of your being able to set up 
 a Case on the strength of it ; and I could 
 also tell you whether I should or should not 
 feel justified in personally undertaking that 
 Case under a private arrangement with your- 
 self. 
 
 '' As things are, I can make no arrangement 
 and offer no advice. I can only put you con- 
 fidentially in possession of my private opinion, 
 leaving you entirely free to draw your own 
 inferefices from it, and regretting that I can 
 not write more confidently and mortf defi- 
 nitely than I have written here. All that 
 I could conscientiously say on this very diffi- 
 cult and very delicate subject I have said. 
 '• Believe me, dear Madam, 
 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 j "John Loscombk," 
 
 I 
 
 ! FR9M MRS. NOKL VANSTONE TO MB. LOSCOMBK. 
 
 ' " Dkau vSir — I have read your letter more 
 I than once' with the deepest interest and at- 
 ; tention, and the oftcner I read it the more 
 i firmly I believe that there is really such a 
 ' Letter as you mention in Admiral Bartram's 
 i hands. 
 
 " It is my interest that the discovery should 
 be made, and I at once acknowledge to you 
 that I am determined to find the means of 
 I secretly and certainly making it. My resolu- 
 ] tion rests on other motives than the motives 
 [ ^vhich you might naturally suppose would 
 i intluence me. I only tell you this in case 
 i you feci inclined to remonstrate. There is 
 I good reason for what I say when I assure you' 
 ' that remonstrance will be useless. 
 i " I ask for no assistance in this matter ; I 
 will trouble nobody for. advice. You shall 
 i not be involved in any rash proceedings on' 
 I my part. Whatever danger tnere may be, I 
 ! will risk it. ^V'hatever delays may happen, I 
 I will bear them patiently. I am lonely and 
 ' friendless, and sorely troubled in mind ; but 
 j I am strong enough to win my way through 
 I worse trials than these. My spirits will nse 
 . again, and my time will come. If that Secret 
 ! Trust is in Admiral Bartram's possession, 
 j when you next see me you shall see me with 
 I it in ray own hands. 
 
 " Yours gratefully, 
 ' " Magdalen Vajjstonb." 
 
f29 
 
 SQIXAMS, 
 
 THE SIXTH SCENE-ST. JOHN^S WOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 It wanted little more than a fortnight to 
 Christinas; but the weather showed no signs 
 yet of the frost and snow, conventionally 
 associated with the coming season. The ai- 
 mosptiere was unnaturally warm, and the old 
 year was dying feebly ijQ sapping rain and 
 enervating mist. 
 
 Toward the close of the December after- 
 noon ^lagdaleii sat alone in the lodging which 
 she had occupied since her arrival in London. 
 The fire burnt sluggishly in the narrow little 
 • grate ; the view of the wet houses and soak- 
 ing gardens opposite was darkening fast ; and 
 the bell of the suburban mufHn-boy tinkled |n 
 the distance drearily. Sitting close over the 
 fire, with a little money lying loose in her 
 lap, Magdalen absently shifted the coins to 
 and fro on the smooth surface of her dress ; 
 incessantly altering their positions toward 
 each other, as if they wfere pieces of a child's 
 "puzzle" which she was trying to put to- 
 gether. The dim firelight flaming up on her 
 faintly from time tq time showed changes 
 which would have told their own tale sadly to 
 friends of former days. Her dress had be- 
 come loose through the wasting of her figure ; 
 but she had not" cared to alter it. The old 
 restlessness in her movements, the old mo- 
 bility in her expression, appeared no more. 
 Her face passively maintained its haggard 
 composure, its changeless, unnatural calm. 
 Mr. Fendril might liave softened his hard 
 sentence ou her if he had seen her now ; and 
 Mrs. Lecount, in the plenitude of her triumph, 
 might have pitied her fallen enemj' at last. 
 
 Hardly four months had passed since the 
 wedding-day at Aldliorough; and the penalty 
 for that day was paid already — paid in una- 
 vailing remorse, in hopeless isolation, in irre- 
 mediable defeat! Let this be said for her; 
 let the truth which has been told of the fault 
 be told of the expiation as well. Let it be 
 recorded of her that she enjoyed no secret 
 triumph on the day of her success. The 
 horror of herself with which her own act had 
 inspired her had risen to its climax when the 
 design of her mafriage was achieved. She 
 had never suffered in secret as she suffered 
 •when the Combe-Raven money was left to her 
 in her husband's will. She had never felt the 
 means taketi to accomplish her end so un- 
 utterably degrading to herself as she felt 
 them on the day when the end was reached. 
 Out of that feeling had. grown the remorse 
 which' had hurried her to seek pardon and 
 consolation in her sister's love. Never, since 
 it had first entered her heart, never since she 
 
 had first felt it sacred to her at her father's 
 grave, had the Purpose ta which she had 
 avowed herstlf so nearly lost its hold on her 
 as at this time. Never might Norah's influ- 
 ence have achieved such good as on the day 
 when that influence was lost — the day when 
 the fatal words were overheard at Miss 
 Garth's — the day when the fatal letter from 
 Scotland told of Mrs. Lecount's revenge. 
 
 The harm was done, the chance was gone. 
 Time and Hope alike had both passed her by. 
 
 Faintly and more faintly the inner voices 
 now pleaded with her to pause on th6 down- 
 ward way. The discovery which had poison- 
 ed her heart with its first distrust of her sister; 
 the tidings which had followed it of her hus- 
 band's death ; the sting of Mrs. Lecount's tri- 
 umph, felt through all, had done their work. 
 The remorse which had embittered her mar- 
 ried life was deadened how to a dull despair.* 
 It was too late to make the atonedient of con- 
 fession — too late to lay bare to the miserable 
 husband the deeper secrets that had once 
 lurked in the heart of the miserable wife. In- 
 nocent of all thought of the hideous treachery 
 which Mrs. Lecount had imputed to her, she 
 was guilty of knowing how his health was bro- 
 ken when she married him; guilty of know- 
 ing, when he left her the Combe - Raven 
 money, that the accident of a moment, harm- 
 less to other men, might place his life in jeop- 
 ardy, and eflfect her release. His death had 
 told her this, had told her plainly what she 
 had shrunk in his lifetime from openly ac- 
 knowledging to herself. From the dull tor- 
 ment of that reproach; .from the dreai^ 
 wretchedness of doubting everybody, even to 
 Norah herself; from the bitter sense of her 
 defeated -schemes; from the blank solitude of 
 her friendless life, what refuge was left? But 
 one refuge now. She turned to the relentless 
 Purpose which was hurrying her to her ruin, 
 and cried to it with th« daring of her despair 
 — Drive me on ! 
 
 For days and days together she had bent 
 her mind on the one object which occupied it 
 since she had received the lawyer's letter. 
 For days and days togefher she had toiled to 
 meet the first necessity of her position — to 
 find a means of discovering the Secret Trust. 
 There was no hope this time of assistance from 
 Captain Wragge. Long practice had made 
 the old militia-man an adept in the art of van- 
 ishing. The plough of the moral agricultu- 
 rist left no furrows — not a trace of him was 
 to be found ! Mr. Loscombe was too cautious 
 to commit himself to an active course of any 
 kind ; he passirely maintained his opinion, 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 W7 
 
 and left- the rest to his elieut — lie desired to 
 know nothing until tlic Trust was placed in 
 his hands. Magdalen's interests were now in 
 Magdalen's own sole care. Risk or no risk, 
 what she did next she must do by herself. 
 
 The prospect had not daunted her. Alone 
 she had calculated the chances that might be 
 tried. Alone she was now detv.^i'mined to 
 make the attempt. 
 
 " The time has come," she said to herself, as 
 she sat over the fire. " I must sound Louba 
 first." 
 
 She collected the scattered coins in her lap, 
 and placed thorn in a little heap on the table — 
 then rose, and rang the bell. The landlady 
 answered it. 
 
 " Is my servar^J, down stairs ? " inquired 
 Magdalen. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. She ii having her tea." 
 
 "When she has done, say I want her up 
 here. Wait a moment. You will find your 
 money on the table — the money I owe you for 
 last week. Can you find it? or would you 
 like to have a candle ?" 
 
 "It 's rather dark, ma'am." 
 
 Magdalen lit a candle. "\Vhat hotice must 
 I give you," she asked, as she put the candle 
 on the table. " before I leave ?" 
 
 "A w^eek is the usual notice, ma'ftm. I 
 hope you have no objection to make to the 
 house V" 
 
 " None whatever. I only ask the question 
 because I may be obliged to leave these lodg- 
 ings rather sooner than I had anticipated. Is 
 the money right ?" 
 
 " Quite right, ma'am. Here ie your re* 
 ceipt." 
 
 " Thank yoa. Don't forget. to aend Louisa 
 to me as soon as she has done her tea." - 
 
 The landlady withdrew. As soon as she 
 was alone ag.iin Magdalen extinguished the 
 candle, and drew an empty chair close to her 
 own chair on t-he hearth. This done, she re- 
 sumed her former place, and waited until 
 Louisa appeared, 'fhere was doubt in her 
 
 face as she sat looking mechanically into the 
 fire. "A poor chance," she thought to her- 
 self; " but, poor as it is, a chance that I must 
 try." 
 
 In ten minutes more Louisa's meek knock 
 was softly audible outside. She was surprised 
 on entering the room to find no other light in 
 it than the light of the fire. 
 
 " Will you have the candles, ma'am," she 
 inquired, respectfully. 
 
 ■' We will have the candles if you wish for 
 them yourself," replied Magdalen ; " not oth- 
 erwise. I have something to say to vou. 
 When I have said it you shall docide whether 
 we sit together in the dark or in the light." 
 
 Louisa waited near the door, and listened 
 to those strange words in silent astonishment. 
 
 " Come hen-," said Magdalen, pointing to 
 the empty chair; "come here and sit down." 
 
 l/ouisa advanced, and timidly removed the 
 rhair from it« po«ition at h«r mittreM'i tide. 
 
 Magdalen iiisiaully dicw it back again. "No!" 
 i she said. " Come closer — come close b/me." 
 I After a moment's nervous hesitation Louisa 
 I obeyed. 
 
 " I ask you to sit near me." pursued Magda- 
 • len, " because I wish to speak to you on ecjual 
 I terms. Whatever distinctions there might 
 I once have been between us are now at an 
 end. I am a lonely woman, thrown helpless 
 ' on my own resources, without rank or place 
 j in the world. I may or may not keep you as 
 I my friend. As mistress and maid the con- 
 nection between us must come to an end." 
 
 " Oh, ma'am, don't, don't say that!" plead* 
 «d Louisa, faintly. 
 
 Magdalen sorrowfully and steadily went on.' 
 " When you first came to me," she resumed, 
 "I thought I should not like you. . .1 have 
 learned to like you — I have learned to be 
 grateful to you. From first to last you have 
 been faithful and good to me. The least I 
 can do in return is not to stand in the way of 
 your future prospects." 
 
 " Don't send me away, ma'am !" said Loui- 
 sa, imploringly. " If you can only help me 
 with a little money now ami then, I '11 wait 
 for my wages — I will indeed." 
 
 Magdalen took her hand, and went on as 
 sorrowfully and steadily as before. 
 
 "My future lifj. is all darkness, all uncer- 
 . tainty," she said. " The next step I take 
 ! may lead me to my jirosperity or may lead me 
 to my ruin. Can I ask you to share such a 
 I prospect as this? If your future was as un» 
 i certain as mine is — if you. too, w(>re a friend- 
 less woman thrown on the world — my con- 
 science might be easy in letting you cast your 
 lot with mine. I might accept your attach- 
 ment, for I might feel I was not wroncring you. 
 I How can I feel this in your case ? You have 
 a future to look to. You are an excellent 
 j servant; you can get another place — a far 
 I better place than mine. . You can refer to 
 I me ; and if the character I give is not consid- 
 ered sufficient, you can refer to the mistress 
 you served before me — "' 
 
 At the instant when that reference to the 
 
 I girl's last employer escaped Magdalen's lips 
 
 Louisa snatched her hand away, and started 
 
 j up affrightedly from her uliair. There was a 
 
 moments silence. Both mistress and maid 
 
 I were equally taken by surpri.se. 
 
 Magdalen was the {\rft to recover herself. 
 " Is it getting too dark ?" slie asked signifi- 
 cantly. " Arc you goinj to light the candles 
 i after all ?" . ' 
 
 Louisa drew back into the dimtnest comer 
 of the room. 
 
 " You suspect mo, ma'am !" she answered 
 out of the darkness in a breathless whisper. 
 "Who has told you? How did you find 
 out — ?" She, stopped, and burst into tears. 
 ' " I deserve your cuspiciou," she said, strug- 
 gling to compose herself " I can't deny it to 
 »/oii. You havo treated me so kin<My ; you. 
 have mad« me so fond of you 1 Forgive m9. 
 
228 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Mrs. Vanstone — I am a wretch ; I have de- 1 
 ceived you." 
 
 " Come here and sit down by me awaiu," i 
 said Magdalen. " Come, or I will get up i 
 myself and bring you back." j 
 
 Louisa slowly returned to her place. Dim | 
 as^the firelight was, she seemed, to fear it.; 
 She held her handkerchief over her face, and ' 
 shrank from her mistress as she seated herself ' 
 again in the chair. j 
 
 f You are wrong in thinking that auv one I 
 has betrayed you ta me," said Magdalen. 
 " All that I know of you is what your own ! 
 looks and ways have told me. You'have had 
 some secret trouble weighing on your mind 
 ever since you have been in my service. I 
 confes? I have spoken with the wish to find 
 out more of you and your past life than I 
 have found out yet — not because I am curi- 
 ous, but because I have my secret troubles 
 too. Are you an unhappy woman, like me '? 
 If you are, I will take you into my confi- 
 dence. If you have nothing to tell me -i- if 
 you choose to keep your secret — I don't blame 
 you ; I only say let us part. I won't ask how 
 you have deceived me. I will only remember 
 tha,t you have been an honest, and faithful, 
 and competent servant while I have employed 
 you ; and I will say as much in your favor to 
 any new mistress you like to send to me." 
 
 She waited for the reply. For a" moment, 
 and only for a moment, Louisa hesitated. 
 Tfie girl's nature was weak, but not depraved. 
 She was honestly attached to her mistress: 
 • and she spoke with a courage which Magda- 
 len had not expected from her. 
 
 " If you send me away, ma'am," she said, 
 '♦ I won't take my character from you till I 
 have told you the truth ; I won't return your 
 kindness by deceiving you a second time. 
 Did my master ever tell you how he engaged 
 me ?" 
 
 "No.' I nevef asked him, and he never 
 told me." 
 
 " He engaged me, ma'am, with a written 
 character — " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " The character was a false one.'* 
 
 Magdalen drew back in amazement. The 
 confession she heard was not the confession 
 she had anticipated. 
 
 " Did your mistress refuse to give you a 
 character ?" she asked. " Why '?" 
 
 Louisa dropped on her kness, and hid her 
 face in her mistress's lap. " Don't ask me !" 
 she said. " I 'm a miserable, degraded creat- 
 ure ; I 'm not fit to be in the same room with 
 you !" 
 
 Ma,gdalen bent over her, j%nd whispered a 
 question in her ear. Lonisa whispered back 
 the one sad word of reply. 
 
 "Has he deserted you ?" asked Magdalen,, 
 after waiting a moment, and tl linking first 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Do you love him ?" 
 
 ♦•Dearly." 
 
 The remembrance of her own loveless, mar- 
 riage stung Magdalen to the quick. 
 
 " For God's sake, don't kneel to me .'" she 
 cried, passionately. " If there is a degraded 
 woman in this ro»m, 1 am the woman — not 
 you 1" 
 
 She raised the girl by main force from her 
 knees, and put her back in the chair. They 
 both waited a little in silence. Keeping her 
 hand on Louisa's shoulder, Magdalen seated" 
 herself again, and looked with an unuttera- 
 ble bitterness of sorrow into the dying fire. 
 "Oh," she thought, "what happy women 
 there are in the world ! Wives who love their 
 husbands ! Mothers who are not ashamed 
 to own their children ! Are you quieter ?" 
 she asked, geutly addressing Louisa once more. 
 " Can you answer n^ if I ask you something 
 else ? Where is the child V" 
 
 " The child is out at nurse." 
 
 " Does the father help to support it V" 
 
 " He does all he can, ma'am." 
 
 " What is he ? Is he in service ? Is he in 
 a trade? " 
 
 " His father is a master<-arpenter — he workw 
 in his father's yard." 
 
 " If he has got work, why ha.s he not mar- 
 ried you ?" 
 
 " It 's his father's fault, ma'am — not his. His 
 father has no pity on us. He would be turned 
 out of house and home if he married me." 
 
 " Can he get no work elsewhere ?" 
 
 " It 's hard to get good work in London, 
 ma'am. There are so many in London — they 
 take the bread oat of each other's mouths. 
 If we had only had the money to emigrate, 
 he would hare married me long since." 
 
 "Would he marry you if you had the money 
 now ?" 
 
 " I am sure he would, ma'am. He could 
 get plenty of work in Australia, and double 
 and treble the wages he gets here. He is 
 trying hard, and I am trying hard, to save a 
 little toward it. I put by all J ean spare 
 from my child. But it is so little! If we 
 live for years to come, there seems no hope 
 for us. I know I have done wrong every 
 way ; I know I don't deserve to be happy. 
 But how c(3uld I let my child suffer ? I was 
 obljfjed to go to service. My mistress was 
 hard on me, and my health broke down in 
 trying to live by my needle. I would never 
 have deceivejd anybody by a false character 
 if there had been another chance for me. I 
 was alone and helpless, ma'am ; and I can 
 only ask you to forgive me." 
 
 " Ask better women than 1 am," said Mag- 
 dalen, sadly. " I am only fit to feel for you ; 
 and I do feel for you with all my heart. In 
 your place I should have gone into service 
 with a false character too. Say no more of 
 the past — you don't know how you hurt me in 
 speaking of it. Talk of the future. I think 
 I can help you, and do you no' harm. I tWnk 
 you can help me, and do me the greatest of all 
 services in return. Wait, and you shall hear 
 
2vO NAME. 
 
 229 
 
 strike Louisa 
 She trembled 
 Mfigdalen re- 
 
 what I mean. Suppose you were married, 
 how much would it cost for you and your hus- 
 band to emigrate V" 
 
 Louisa mentioned the cost of a steerage 
 passage to Australia for a man and his wife. 
 She spoke in low, hopeless tones. Moderate 
 as the sum wa.s, it looked like unattainable 
 wealth in her eyes. 
 
 Magdalen started in her chair, and took the 
 girl's hand once more. 
 
 •'Louisa!" she said, earnestly, "if 1 gave 
 you the money, what would you. do for me in 
 return V" 
 
 The proj)osal seemed to 
 speechless with astonishment, 
 violently, and said nothing, 
 peated her words. 
 
 "Oh, ma'am.* do you mean it?" said the 
 girl. " Do you really mean it ?" 
 
 ** Yes," replied Magdalen, " I really mean 
 it. What would you do for me in return?", 
 
 " Do V" repeated Louisa. "Oh, what is 
 there 1 would riot do!" She tried to kiss h(^r 
 mistress's hand, but ]\Iagdalen would not per- 
 mit it. She resolutely, almost roughly, drew 
 her hand away. 
 
 " I am laying you under no obligation," she 
 said. " We are nerving each other — that is 
 all. Sit (piiet, and let me think." 
 
 For the ne,xt ten niinutt^s there wns^tilence 
 in the rpom. At ihe eud of that time Mag- 
 .dalen took out her watch and held it close to 
 the grate. There was just lirelight enough 
 to show her the hour. It was cfose on si.x 
 o'clock. 
 
 " Are you composed enoiigh to go down 
 stairs and deliver a message V" she aske<l, 
 rising from her chair as she spoke to Louisa 
 again. " It is a very simple message — it is 
 only to tell the >x)y that I want a cab as soon 
 as he can get me one. I must go out innn*'- 
 diately. You shall Know why later in the 
 evening. I have much more to say to you, 
 but there is no time to say it now. When 1 
 am gone, briit»r your work up here and wait 
 for my return. I shall be back before bed- 
 time." 
 
 Without another word oi explanation she 
 hurriedly lit a candle, and withdrew into the 
 bedroom to put on her bonnet and shawl. 
 
 • CHAPTER H. 
 
 Between nine and ten o'llock the same 
 evening Louisa, waiting an.xiously, heard the 
 long-expected knock at the hou.*e-<ioor. She 
 ran down stairs at once and let her mistress in. 
 
 Magdalen's face was flnshcd. She showed 
 far more agitation on returning to the houfee 
 than she had shown on leaving it. " Keep 
 youi; place at the table," she said to Louisa, 
 impatiently, " but lay aside vour work. I 
 want you to attend carefully to What I am 
 going to say." 
 
 Louisa obeyed. Magdalen seated herself 
 at the opposite side of the table, and moved 
 the candles so as to obtain a clear and unin- 
 terrupted view of her servanfs face. 
 
 " Have you noticed a respectable elderly 
 woman,'" she began abruptly, "who has been 
 here once or twice in the last fortnight to pay 
 me a visit V" 
 
 " Yes, u'la'ani : I think I let her in the sec- 
 ond time she came. An elderly person named 
 Mrs. Attwood V" 
 
 " That is the person 1 mean. Mrs. Att- 
 wood Is Mr. Loscotfibe's housekeeper; not the 
 housekeeper'at his private residence, b\it the 
 housekeeper at Iws oilices in Lincoln's Inn. I 
 promised to go and drink tea with her some 
 evening this week, and I have been to-night. 
 It is strange of me, is it not, to be on these 
 familiar terms with a woman in Mrs. Att- 
 wood's situation ?" 
 
 Louisa made no answer in words. Her 
 face spoke for her : she could hardly avoid 
 thinking it .strange. 
 
 "I had ;i motive for making friends with 
 Mrs. Attwood,'' Magdalen went on. " She i« 
 a widow, with a large family of daughters. 
 Jler daughters are all in service. One of 
 them is an uuder-housemaid, in the service of 
 Admiral Bartram, at St. Crux-in-the-Marsh. 
 I found that out from Mrs. Attwood's master; 
 and as soon us I arrived at the discovery I 
 privately determined to make Mrs. .\ttwood'? 
 acquaintance. Stranger still, is it not ■.-" 
 
 Louisa began to Iook a little uneasy. Her 
 mistress's manner was at variance with her 
 mistress's words — it was plainly suggestive of 
 something .startling to come. 
 
 " What attraction Mrs. Attwood finds in 
 my society," Magdalen continued, "1 can not 
 pfesume to say. I <an only tell you she has 
 seen better days; she is an educated )»erson; 
 and she may like my sot;iety on that account. 
 At any rate she has readily met my advance* 
 toward her. What attraction I fmd in this 
 good woman on my side is !<oon told. 1 have 
 a great curiosity — an unac*eountal>le curiosity, 
 you will think — about the present course ot 
 hpusehold affairs at St. Cru.x-in-the-Marjh. 
 Mrs. Attwood's daughter is a good girl, and 
 constantly writes to her mother. Her mother 
 is proud of the letters and proud of the girl, 
 and is ready enough to talk about her daugh- 
 ter and her daughter's place. That is Mrs. 
 Attwood's attraction to me. You understand, 
 so far ?" 
 
 Yes; Louisa understood. Magdalen went 
 on. 
 
 " Thank.H to Mrs. Attwood and Mrs. Att- 
 wood's daughter," she .iaid.»*'I know some 
 curious particulars already ol" the household 
 at St. Cru.\. Servants' tongues and servants" 
 letters — .r-< I need not tell i/ou — are oflener 
 occupied with their masters and mistresses 
 than their masters and mistresses suppose. 
 The only mistress at St. Crux is the house- 
 keeper. But there is a raast«r — Admiral 
 
•so 
 
 wo HAMK. 
 
 Bartram. He appears to be a strange old | 
 man, whose whims and fancies amuse his ser- j 
 vants as -Well as his friends. One of his fan- 
 vies (the only one we need trouble ourselves i 
 to notice) i«, that he had men enough about I 
 him when he was living at sea, and that now ! 
 lie is living on shore he' will be waited on by 
 women-servants alone. The one man in the 
 house is an old sailor, who has been all his life 
 with his master— he is a kind of pensioner at 
 St. Crux, and has little or nothing to do with 
 the housework. The other servants indoors 
 pre all women; and inste^^d of a footman to 
 wait on him at dinner the admiral has a par- 
 lor-maid. The parlor-maid now at St. Crux 
 is engaged to be married, and as soon as her 
 master can suit hin»self she is going away. 
 These discoveries I made some days since. 
 But when I saw Mrs. Attwood to-night, she 
 uad received another letter from her daughter 
 in the interval, and that letter has helped me 
 to find out something more. The housekeeper 
 lo at her wit's end to find a new servant. Her ' 
 master insists on youth and good looks — he I 
 leaves everything else to his housekeeper ^ — 
 but he will have that. All the inquiries made ; 
 ia the neighborhood have failed to produce! 
 ;he sort of parlor - maid whom the admiral! 
 wants. If nothing can be <lone in the next ; 
 fortnight or three weeks th^ housekeeper will 
 advertise in the Times, and will come to Lon- 
 don herself to see the applicants, and to make ; 
 jtrict personal inquiry into their characters." ; 
 
 Louisa looked at hor mistress more atten- 
 tively than ever. The expression of perplexity 
 left her face, and a shade of disappointment 
 appeared there in its stead. i 
 
 " Bear iq mind what I have said," pursued j 
 Magdalen.; " and wait a minute more while I 
 ask you some questions. Don't think you un- ! 
 derstand me yet — I can assure you you don't | 
 understand me. Have you always lived in 
 service as lady's-maid ?" 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 " Have you ever lived as parlor-maid ?" 
 
 "Only in one place, ma'am — and not for 
 long there." 
 
 '* I suppose you lived long enough to learn 
 your duties ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " What were your duties besides waiting at 
 tabl^ ?" 
 
 " I had to show visitors in." 
 
 " Yes ; and what else ?" 
 
 "I had the plate and the glass to look after, 
 and the table-linen wa^ all .under iny care. I 
 had to answer all the bells except in the bed- 
 rooms. There were other little odds and ends 
 sometimes to do' — " 
 
 "But your regular duties were the duties 
 you have just mentioned '.■"' 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " How long ago is it since you lived in ser- 
 vice as parlor-maid '?" 
 
 " A little better than two years, ma'am." 
 
 "I suppose you have not forgotten how to 
 
 wait at table, and clean plate, and the rest 
 it, in that time ?" 
 
 At this question Louisa's attention, whic 
 had been wandering more aiid more during' 
 the progress of Magdalen's inquiries, wander 
 ed away altogether. Her gathering anxieti 
 got the better of her discretion, and even o1 
 her timidity. Instead of answering her mis- 
 tress, she suddenly and confusedly ventured 
 on a question of her own. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ma'am," she «aid. "Did 
 you mean me to offer for the parlor - maid's i 
 place at St. Crux?" ' 
 
 "You?" replied Magdalen. "Certainly 
 not ! Have you forgotten what I said to you 
 in this room before I went out ? I mean you 
 to be married, and to go to Australia with your 
 husband and yOur child. You' have not waited 
 as I told you, to hear me explain myself. You 
 licive drawn your conclu^ons, and you have 
 drawn them wrpng. I asked a question just 
 now which you have not answered — I asked if 
 you had forgotten your parlor-maid's duties?" 
 
 " Oil, no, ma'am !" Louisa had replied rather 
 unwillingly, thus far. She answered readily 
 and confidently now. 
 
 " Could you teach the duties to another 
 servant ?" asked Magdalen. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am — easily, if she was quick and 
 attentive." 
 . " Could you teach the duties to Me ?" 
 
 Louisa started and changed color. " You, 
 ma'am !" she exclaimed, half in incredulity, 
 half in alarm. 
 
 " Yes," said Magdalen. " Could you q'tialify 
 me to take the parlor - maid's place at St. 
 Crux?" 
 
 Plain as those words were, the bewilderment 
 which they produced in Louisa's mind seemed 
 to render her incapable of comprehending her 
 mistress's proposal. " You, ma'am !" she re- 
 peated, vacantly. 
 
 " I shall perhaps help you to understand 
 this extraordinary project of mine," said Mag- 
 dalen, "if I tell you plainly what the object 
 of it is? Do you remember what 1 said to you 
 j about Mr. Vanstone's will when you came 
 here from Scotland to join me ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. You told me you had .been 
 left out of the will altogether. I 'm sure my 
 fellow-: servant would never have been one of 
 the witnesses if she had known — " 
 
 " Never mind that now. I don't blame your 
 fellow-servant — I' blame nobody but Mrs. Le- 
 count. Let me go on with what I was saying. 
 It is not at all certain that Mrs. Lecount can 
 I do me the mischief which Mrs. Lecount intend- 
 I ed. There is a chance that my lawyer, Mr. 
 I Loscombe, may be able to gain me what is 
 fairly my due, in spite of the will. The chance 
 turns on my discovering a letter which Mr. 
 I Loscombe believes, and which I believe, to be 
 : kept privately in Admiral Bartram's posses- 
 sion. I have not the least hope of getting at 
 I that letter if I make the attempt in my own 
 I person. Mrs. Lecount has poisoned the admi- 
 
y>0 Jf AJStB. 
 
 Mi 
 
 T&Vs mind against me, And Mr. Vanstone has 
 given him a secret to keep from me. If I 
 wrote to him, he would not answer mj' letter. 
 If I went to his house, the door would be closed 
 in my face. I must find my way into St. Crux 
 as a stranger — I must be in a position to look 
 about the house unsuspected — 1 must be there 
 with plenty of time on my hands. All the 
 circumstances are in my favor if I am received 
 into the houst; as a servant ; and as a servant 
 I mean to go." 
 
 " But you are a lady, ma'am," objected 
 Louisa, in the greatest perplexity. " The ser- 
 vants at St. Crux would find you out." 
 
 " I am not at all afraid of their fiiuling me 
 out," said Miigdalen. " I know how to dis- 
 guise myself in other people's characters more 
 cleverly than you suppose. Lea(Ve me to face 
 the chances of discovery — that i» my risk. Let 
 us taHw of nothing now but what concerns you. 
 Don't decide yet whether you will, or will not, 
 give me the help I want. Wait and hear first 
 what the help is. You are quick and clever 
 at your needle. Can you make me the sort of 
 gown which it is proper for a servant to wear? 
 and can you alter one'of my best silk dresses, 
 80 as to make it fit yourself, in a week's time?" 
 
 " I think I could get them done in a week, 
 mA*am. But why am I to wear — ?" 
 
 " W'^ait a little, and you will see. I shall 
 gfve the landlady her week's notice to-mor- 
 row. In the interval, while you are making 
 ths dresses, I can be learning the parlor- 
 maid's duties. When the house-servant here 
 has bfought up the dinner, and when you and 
 I are alone in the room — instead of your 
 waiting on me, as usual, I will wait on you. 
 (I am quite serious; don't interrupt me!) 
 Whatever' I can learn besides, without hinder- 
 ing you, I will practice carefully at every 
 opportunity. Wh6n the week is over, and 
 th»^ dresses are done, we will leave this place 
 and go into other lodgings — you as the mis- 
 tress, and I as the maid." 
 
 " I should be found out, ma'am," interposed 
 Louisa, trembling at the prospect before her. 
 " I am not a lady." 
 
 " And I am," said Magdalen, bitterly. 
 " Shall I tell you what a lady is ? A lady ig 
 A woman who wears a silk gown, and has a 
 »enseof her own importance. I shall put ths 
 gown on vour back, and the sense in your 
 head. You .«peak good English — you are 
 naturally quiet and self-restrained — if you 
 can only conquer your timidity, I have not the 
 least fear of you. There will be time enough 
 in the new iVlging for )'Ou to practice your 
 character, and for tne to practico mine. 
 There will be time enough to make eomc 
 more dresses — another gown for me, and )our 
 wedding-dress (which I mean to give you) for 
 yourself. I sh<<<l have the newipaper sent 
 every day. • When the advertisement appears 
 I shall answer it — in any name I can take, on 
 the spur of the moment; in your name, if you 
 like to lend it to me ; and when the houge- 
 
 I keeper asks me for my character I shall refer 
 
 j her to you. She will see you in Jhe position 
 
 I of mistress, and me in the position of maid — 
 
 1 no suspicion can possibly enter her mind 
 
 unless you put it there. If you or\\y have 
 
 the courage to follow my instructions, and 
 
 to say what I shall fell you to say, the in- 
 
 ' terview will be over in ten minutes." 
 
 " You frighten me, ma'am," said LouisH, 
 • still trembling. " You take my breath away 
 |.with surprise. Courage ! Where shall I find 
 I courage ?" 
 
 ; " Where I keep it for you," said Magdalen — 
 " in the passage-money to Australia. Look nt 
 i the new prospect which gives yoi* a husband 
 i and restores you to your child, and you will 
 I find your courage there." 
 I Louisa's sad face brightened ; Louisa's faint 
 heart beat quick. A spaiHt of her mistress'?; 
 I spirit flew, up into- her eyes as she thought 
 ] of the golden future. , 
 
 1 " If you accept ui}' proposal," pursued Mag- 
 I dalen, "you can be asked in church at once, 
 if you like. I promise you the money on the 
 day when the advertisement appears in the 
 newspaper. The risk of the housekeeper's 
 rejecting me is my risk — n«t yours. My good 
 looks are sadly gone oflT, I know. But I think 
 I can still hold my place against the other 
 servants — I think I can still look the parlor- 
 maid whom Admiral Bartram wants. There 
 is nothing for you to fear in this matter ; I 
 should not have mentioned it if there had 
 been. The only dait^er is the danger of my 
 being discovered at St. Crux, and that fall" 
 entirely on me. By the time I am in the ad- 
 miral's house you will be married, and the 
 ship will be taking you to your new life." 
 
 Louisa's face, now brightening with hope, 
 now clouding again with fear, showed plain 
 signs of th« struy<;le which it cost her to de- 
 cide. She tried to gain time ; she attempted 
 confusedly to speak a few words of gratitude ; 
 but her mistress silenced her. 
 
 " You owe mc no thanks," said Mag(lalei\. 
 "I tell you again we are only helping each 
 other. I have very little money, but it is 
 enowgh for your purpose, and I give it you 
 freely. I have led a wretched life ; I have 
 made others wretched about me. I can't even 
 make i/ou happy, except by tempting you to a 
 new deceit. There ! there 1 it 's not your 
 fault. AVorse women than you are will help 
 me, if you refuse. Decide as you Hke, but 
 don't be afraid of taking the-, money. If I 
 succeed I shall not want it. If I fail — " 
 
 She stopped, rose abruptly from her chair, 
 and hid her face from Louisa by walking away 
 to the fireplace. 
 
 " If I fail," she resumed, warming her foot 
 carelessly at the fender, *' all the money in the 
 world will be of no use to me. Never mind 
 •why — never mind Me — think of yQurself I 
 won't take advantage of the confession you 
 have made to me ; I won't influence you 
 against your will. Do as you yourself think 
 
iB'i 
 
 NO NAMK. 
 
 best. But remember one thing — my mind is 
 made up : nothing you can say or do will 
 change it." 
 
 liei- sudden removal from the table^ the 
 altered tones of her voice as she spoke the 
 last words, appeared to renew Louisa's hesita- 
 tion. She clasped her hands together in her 
 lap, and wrung them hard. " Tliis has come 
 on me very suddenly, ma'am," said the girl. 
 ''I am sorely tempted to say Yes: and yet 
 I 'm almost afraid — " 
 
 v" Take the night to cbnsider it," interposed 
 Magdalen, keeping her face persistently 
 turned toward the fire, " and tell me what 
 you have decided to do when you come into 
 my room to-morrow morning. I shall want 
 no help to-night ; I can undress myself. Tou 
 are not so strong as I am ; you are tired, I 
 ilare say. Don't sit? up on my account. Good 
 night, Louisa, and pleasant dreams !" 
 
 Her voice sank lowt>r and lower as she 
 
 j spoke those kind words. She sighed heavily,^ 
 ] and, leaning her arm on the mantle-piece, 
 i laid her head on it with a reckless weariness 
 I miserable to see. Louisa had not left the 
 j room, as she supposed ; Louisa came softly to 
 j her side and kissed her hand. Magdalen 
 I started ; but she made no attempt this time to 
 j draw her hand away. The sense of her own 
 I horrible isolation subdued her at the touch of 
 I the servant's lips. Her proud heart melted ; 
 I her eyes filled with bu'rnipg tears. " Don't 
 i distress me !" she said, faintly. " The time 
 I for kindness has gone by ; it only overpowers 
 i me now. Good-night!" 
 
 The morning came ; and the affirmative 
 i answer which Magdalen had anticipated was 
 I the answer given. On that day the landlady 
 I received her week's notice to quit, and Louisa's 
 I needle flew fast through the stitches of the 
 I parlor-raaid'.s dress- 
 
 TKJ? KND OF THE SIXTH SCBNK. 
 
 BETWEEN THE SCENES. 
 
 FROM MIHR GAKTH TOMK. PKNDRn.. 
 
 ■' WestmoreiaKb HoinR. Jan. ^ 184S. 
 
 " Deak Mr. Pkndril — I write, as you 
 kindly requested, to report how Norah is 
 going on, and to tell you what changes I see 
 tb>' the better in the state of her mind, on the 
 subject of her' sister. 
 
 " I can not Say that she is becoming resigned 
 U) Magdalen'a continued silence — T know her 
 faithful nature too well to say it. Lean only 
 tell you that she is beginning to find relief 
 from the heavy pressure of sorrow and sus- 
 pense in new thoughts and new hopes. I 
 doubt if she has yet realized this in her owu 
 mind ; but 1 see the result, although she is not 
 conscious of it herself. I see her heart open- 
 ing to the consolation of another interest and 
 another love. She has not said a word to me 
 on the subject, nor have I said a word to her. 
 But as certainly as I know that Mr. George 
 Bartram's visitx have lately grown more and 
 more frequent to the family at Portland Place, 
 so certainly 1 can assure you that Norah is 
 finding a relief under her suspense which is 
 not of my bringing, and a hope in the future 
 which I have not taught her to feel. 
 
 " It is needless for me to say that I tell you 
 this in the strictest confidence. God knows 
 whether the happy prospect which seems to 
 rae to be just dawning will grow brighter or 
 not as time goes on. The oftener I see Mr. 
 George Bartram — and he has called on me 
 more than once — the stronger my liking for 
 him grows. To my poor judgment he seems 
 
 to be a gentleman in the highest and truest 
 sense of the word. If I could live to see 
 Norah his wife, I should almost feel that I 
 had lived long enough. But who can discern 
 the future ? We have suflered' so much that 
 I am afraid to hope. 
 
 " Have you heard anything of Magdalen ? 
 1 don't know why or how it, is, but since I 
 have known of her husband's death my old 
 tenderness for her seems to "cling to me more 
 obstinately than ever. 
 
 " Always yours truly, 
 
 " Harriet Garth." 
 
 a 
 
 KSO« «R. PR^DRIL TO MISS CARTII. 
 
 -?KARi.E Street, Jan. 4. 1848. 
 
 "Dkar Miss Garth — Of Mrs. Noel Van- 
 stone herself I have heard nftthing. But I 
 have learned .since I saw you that the report 
 of the position in which she is left by the 
 death of her husband may be depended on 
 as the truth. No legacy of any kind is be- 
 queathed to her. Her name is not once men- 
 tioned in her husband's will. 
 
 '• Knowing what we know, it is not to be 
 concealed that this circumstance threatens us- 
 with more embarrassment, and perhaps with 
 more distress. Mrs. Noel Vanstone is not the ' 
 woman to submit without a desperate resist- 
 ance to the total overthrow of ^11 her schemes 
 and all her hopes. The mere fact that noth ■ 
 ing whatever has been heard of her since her 
 husband's death is suggestive to my mind of 
 serious mischief to come. In her situation 
 
•NO KAME. 
 
 23 S 
 
 and with her temper, the quieter she is now 
 the more inveterately I, for one, clistrus,t her 
 in the future. It is impossible to say to what 
 •violent measures her present extremity may 
 not drive her. It is impossible to feel sure 
 that she may not be the cause of some public 
 scandal this time which may aifect her inno- 
 cent sister ^s well as herself 
 
 " I know you will not misinterpret the mo- 
 tive which has led me to write these lines ; I 
 know you will not think that I am inconsider- 
 ate enough to cause you unnecessary alarm. 
 My sincere anxiety to see that happy pros- 
 pect realized, to which your letter a^udes, 
 I:r.s caused me to write far less reservedly 
 than I might otherwise have written. I 
 strongly urge you to use your influence, on 
 every occasion -when you can fairly exert it, 
 to strengthen that growing attachment, and 
 to place it beyond the reach of any coming 
 disasters, while you have the opportunity of 
 doing so. When I tell you that the fortune 
 of which Mrs. Noel Vanstone has been de- 
 prived is entirely bequeathed to Admiral Bar- 
 tram — and when I add that Mr. George 
 Bartram is generally understood to be his 
 uncle's heir — you will, I think, acknowledge 
 that I am not warning you without a cause. 
 " Yours most truly, 
 
 " William Penmiil." 
 
 III. 
 
 FROM ADMIRAL BARTRAM TO MRS. DRAKK 
 
 (housekeeper at ST. crux). 
 
 " St. Cnrx. Jan. 10, 1848. 
 
 " Mrs. Drake — I have received your let- 
 ter fromlLondon, stating that you have found 
 me a new parlor-maid at last, and that the 
 girl is ready to return with you to St. Crux, 
 when your other errands in town allo\ryou 
 to come back. 
 
 " This arrangement must be altered imme- 
 diatcl}', for a reason which I am heartily sorry 
 to have to write. 
 
 " The illness of my niece, Mrs. Girdlestone 
 — which appeared to be so slight as to alarm 
 
 none of us, doctors included — has ended fatal- 
 ly. I received this morning the shocking news 
 of her death. Her husband is said to be quite 
 frantic with grief. Mr. George has already 
 gone to his brother-in-law's to superintend the 
 last melancholy duties, and I must follow him 
 before the funeral takes place. We propose 
 to take Mr. Girdlestone away afterward, and 
 to try the effect on him of change of place and 
 new scenes. Under these sad circumstances I 
 may be absent from St. Crux a month or six 
 Aveeks at least — the house will be shut up — 
 and the new servant will not be wanted until 
 my return. 
 
 " You will thereforer tell the girl, on receiv- 
 ing this letter, tliat a death in the family has 
 caused a temporary change in our arrange- 
 ments. If she is wilHng to wait you may 
 safely engage her to come here in six weeks 
 time — I shall be back then, if Mr. George is 
 not. If she refuses, pay her what compensa- 
 tion is right, and so have done with her. 
 " Yours, 
 
 "Arthur Bartram." 
 
 IV. 
 
 FROM MRS. DRAKE TO ADMIRAL BARTRAM. 
 
 "Jan. 11. 
 
 "Honored Sir — I hope to get my er- 
 rands done, and to return to St. Crux to- 
 morrow, but write to save you anxiety in case 
 of delay. "^ 
 
 " The young woman whom I have engaged 
 (Louisa by name) is willing to wait your time ; 
 and her present mistress, taking an interest 
 in her welfare, will provide for her during 
 the interval. She understands that she is. to 
 enter on her new service in six weeks from 
 the present date — namely, on the 25th of 
 February next. 
 
 " Begging you will accept my respectful 
 sympathy under the sad bereavement which 
 has befallen the family, ^ 
 
 " I remain, honored sir, 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 " Sophia Drake." 
 
 THE SEVENTH SCENE -ST. CRUX-IN-THE-MARSH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " This is where you are to sleep. Put your- 
 «elf tidy, and then come down again to my 
 room. The admiral has returned, and you 
 will have to begin by waiting on him at din- 
 ner to-day." • •« 
 
 With those words Mrs. Drake, the house- 
 keeper, closed the door ; and the new parlor- 
 maid was left alone in her bedchamber at St. 
 Crux. 
 
 That day was the eventful 25th of Febru- 
 SO 
 
 ary. In barely four months from the time 
 when Mrs. Lecount had placed her master's 
 private Instructions in his Executor's hands, 
 the one combination of circumstances against 
 which it had been her first and foremost ob- 
 ject to provide was exactly the combination 
 which had now taken place. Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone's widow and Admiral Bartram's Secret 
 Trust were together in the same house. 
 
 Thus far events had declared themselves, 
 without an exception, in Magdalen's favor. 
 Thus far the path which hswl led her to St. 
 
234 
 
 NO NAME., 
 
 Crux had been a path without an obstacle. 
 Louisa — whose name she had now laken — had 
 sailed three days since for Australia with her 
 husband and her child : she was the only liv- 
 inf^ creature whom Magdalen had trusted with 
 her secret, and she was by this time out of 
 sight of the English land. The girl had been 
 careful, reliable, and faithfully devoted to 
 her mistress's interests to the last. She had 
 passed the ordeal of her interview with the 
 housekeeper, and had forgotten none of the 
 instructions by which she "had been prepared 
 to meet it. She had herself proposed to turn 
 the six weeks delay, caused by the death in 
 the admiral's family, to good account by con- 
 tinuing the all - important practice of those 
 domestic lessons, on the perfect acquirement of 
 which her mistress's daring stratagem depend- 
 ed for its success. Thanks to the time thus 
 gained, when Louisa's marriage was over and 
 the day of parting had come, Magdalen had 
 learned and mastered, in the nicest detail, 
 everything that her former servant could 
 teach her. On the day when she passed the 
 doors of St. Crux she entered on her desper- 
 ate venture, strong in the ready presence of 
 mind under emergencies which her later life 
 had taught her — stronger still in the trained 
 capacity that she possessed for the assumption 
 of a character not her own — strongest of all 
 in her two months daily familiarity with the 
 practical duties of the position which she had 
 •undertaken to fill. 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Drake's departure had left 
 her alone she unpacked her box and dressed 
 herself for the evening. 
 
 She put on a lavender-colored stuff gown — 
 half-mourning for Mrs. Girdlestone ; ordered 
 for all the servants under the admiral's in- 
 structions — a white muslin apron, aitd a neat 
 white cap and collar, with ribbons to match 
 the gown. In this servant's costume — in the 
 plain gown fastening high round her neck, in 
 the neat little white cap at the back of her 
 head — in this simple dress, to the eyes of all 
 men, not linen-drapers, at once the most mod- 
 est and the most alluring that a woman can 
 wear, the sad changes which mental suffering 
 had wrought in her beauty almost disappeared 
 from view. In the evening costume of a lady, 
 with her bosom uncovered, with her figure 
 armed, rather than dressed, in unpliable silk — 
 the admiral might have passed her by without 
 notice in hie own drawing-room. In the even- 
 ing costume of a servant, no admirer of beauty 
 could have looked at her once and not have 
 turned again to look at her tor the second time. 
 
 Descending the stairs, on her way to the 
 housekeeper's room, she passed by the entran- 
 ces to two long stone corridors, with rows of 
 doors opening on them ; one corridor situated 
 on the second, and one on the first floor of the 
 house. " Many rooms !" she thought, as she 
 looked at the doors. " Weary work, search- 
 ing here for what I have to find." 
 
 On reaching the ground-floor she was met 
 by a weather-beaten old man, who stopped 
 and stared at her with an appearance of great 
 interest. He was the same old man whom 
 Captain Wragge had seen in the back-yard at 
 St. Crux at work on the model of a ship. | All 
 round the neighborhood he was known, far 
 and wide, as "the admiral's coxswain." His 
 name was Mazey. Sixty years had written 
 their story of hard work at sea ajid hard 
 drinking on shore on the veteran's grim and 
 wrinkled face. Sixty years had proved his 
 fidelity, and had brought his battered old car- 
 cass, at the end of the voyage, into port in his 
 master's house. 
 
 Seeing no one else of whom she could in- 
 quire, Magdalen requested the, old man to 
 show her the way that led to the housekeep- 
 er's room. 
 
 " I '11 show you, my dear," said old Mazey, 
 speaking in the high and hollow voice pecu- 
 har to the deaf. "You 're the new maid — 
 eh ? And a fine-grown girl, too ! His honor 
 the admiral likes a parlor-maid with a' clean 
 run fore and aft. You '11 do, my dear — 
 you '11 do." 
 
 " You must not mind what Mr. Mazey says 
 to you," remarked the housekeeper, opening 
 hei' door, as the old sailor expressed his ap- 
 proval of Magdalen in these terms. " He is 
 privileged to talk as he pleases; and he is 
 very, tiresome and slovenly in his habits — but 
 he means no harm." 
 
 With that apology for the veteran, Mrs. 
 Drake led Magdalen first to the pantry, and 
 next to the linen-room, installing her with all 
 due formalifty in her own domestic dominions. 
 This ceremony completed, the new parlor-, 
 ftiaid was taken up stairs, and was shown the 
 dining-room, wiiich opened out of the corridor 
 on the first floor. Here she was directed to . 
 lay the cloth, and to prepare the table for 
 one person only, Mr, George Bartram not 
 having returned with his uncle to St. Crux. 
 Mrs. Drake's sharp eyes watched Magdalen 
 attentively as she performed this introductory 
 duty, and Mrs. Drake's private convictions, 
 when the table was spread, forced" her to 
 acknowledge so far, that the new servant 
 thoroughly understood her work. 
 
 An hour later the soup-tureen was placed 
 on the table, and Magdalen stood alone be- 
 hind the admiral's empty chair, waiting her 
 master's first inspection of her when he en- 
 tered the dining-room. 
 
 A large bell rang in the lower regions — 
 quick, shambling footsteps pattered on the 
 stone corridor outside — the door opened sud- 
 denly — and a tall, lean, yellow old man, sharp 
 as to his eyes, shrewd as to his lips, fussily 
 restless as to all his movements, entered the 
 room, with two huge Labrador dogs at his 
 heels, and took his seat at the table in a 
 violent hurry. The dogs followed him, and 
 placed themselves, with the utmost gravity 
 and composure, one on each side of his chair. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 235 
 
 This was Admiral Bartram, and thege were 
 the companions of his solitary meal. 
 
 " Ay ! ay ! ay ! hove 's the new parlov-maid, 
 to be* sure !" he began, lookinnr sharply, but 
 not at all unkindly, at MagdaSi. "]What 's 
 your name, my good girl? Loiii-sa, is it? T 
 shall call 30U Lucy, if you don't mind. Take 
 ofi" tlie cover, my dear — I 'm a minute or 
 two late to-day. Don't be unpum-tual to- 
 morrow on that account ; I am as regular as 
 clock-work generally. How are you after 
 your journey? Did my spring- cart bump 
 you about much in bringing you from the sta- 
 tion ? Capital soup this — hot as fire — re- 
 minds me of the soup we u?ed to have in the 
 West Indies in the year Three. Have you 
 got your lialf-mourning on ? Stand there and 
 let me see. Ah, yes, very neat, and nice, 
 and tidy. Poor Mrs. Girdlestone ! Oh, dear, 
 dear, dear, poor Mrs. Girdlestone ! You 're 
 not afraid of dogs, are you Lucy ? Eh ? 
 What ? You like dogs ? That 's riglit. Al- 
 ways be kind to dumb animals. Tliese two 
 dogs dine with mo every day, except when 
 there's company. The dog with t])e black 
 nose is Brutus, and the dog with the white 
 nose is Cassius. Did you ever kear who Bru- 
 tus and Cassius were ? Ancient Komans ? 
 That's right — good girl. Mind your book 
 and your needle, and we '11 get you a good 
 husband one of these days. Take away the 
 soup, my dear— take away the soupc" 
 
 This was the man whose secret it was now 
 the one interest of Magdalen's life to sur- 
 prise! This was the man Avhose name had- 
 snjinlauted hers in Noel Vanstone's will ! 
 
 Ihe fish and the roast meat followed; and 
 the admiral's talk rambled on — now in solilo- 
 quy, now addressed to. the parlor-maid, and 
 now directed to the dogs — as familiarly and 
 as disconnectedly as evpr. Magdalen observed, 
 with some surprise, that the companions of 
 the admiral's dinner had, thus far, received 
 no scraps from their master's plate. The 
 two magnificent brutes sat squatted on their 
 . haunches, witli their great heads over the 
 table, watching the progress of tlie meal with 
 the profoumlest attention, but apparently ex- 
 pecting BO share in it. The roast meat was 
 removed, the admiral's plate jvas changed, 
 and Magdalen look the silver covers off the 
 two made-dishc? on either side of the table. 
 As she handed the first of the savory dishes 
 to her master the dogs suddenly exhibited a 
 breathless personal interest in the proceed- 
 ings. Brutus gluttoilously watered at the 
 mouth; and the tongue of Cassius, protruding 
 in unutterable expectation, sraokec^ again, be- 
 tween his enormous jaws. 
 
 The admiral liclped himself liberally from 
 the dish, sent Magdalen to the side-table to 
 get him some bread, and, when he thought 
 her eye was off him, furtively tumbled the 
 whole contents of his plate into Brutus's 
 mouth. Cassius whined faintly as his fortu- 
 nate comrade swallowed the savory mess at 
 
 a gulp. " Hush ! you fool," whispered the 
 admiral. " Your turn next." 
 
 Magdalen presented the second di.sh. Once 
 more the old gentlernan^elped himself large- 
 ly — once* more he sent her away to the side- 
 table — once more he tumbled the entire con- 
 tents of the plate down the dog's throat, 
 selecting Cassius this time, as became a con- 
 siderate master and an impartial man. "When 
 the next course followed — consisting, of a 
 plaiff pudding and an unwhblesofne "cream" 
 — Magdalen's suspicion of the function of the 
 dogs at the dinner-table was confirmed. While 
 the master took the simple pudding the dogs- 
 swallowed the elaborate cream. The admiral 
 was plainly afraid of offending his cook on 
 the one hand, and of offending his digestion 
 on the other, and Brutus and .Cassius were 
 the two trained accomplices who regularly 
 helped him every day off the horns of his 
 dilemma. " Very good ! ver^ .good !" said 
 the o*ld gentleman, with the most transparent 
 duplicity. " Tell the cook, my dear, a capi- 
 tal cream !" 
 
 Having placed the wine and dessert on 
 the table, Magdalen was about to withdraw. 
 Before she could leave the room her master 
 called her back. 
 
 " Stop, stop !" said the admiral. " You 
 don't know the ways of the house yet, Lucy. 
 Put another wine-glass here at my right hand 
 -^the largest you can find, my dear. I 've 
 got a third dog, who comes in at dessert — a 
 drunken old sea-dog who has followed my 
 fortunes afloat and ashore for fifty years and 
 more. Y'^es, yes ; that 's the sort of glass we 
 want. Y'oii 're a good girl — you 're a neat, 
 handy girl. Steady my dear ! there 's nothing 
 to be frightened at !" 
 
 A sudden thump on the outside of the door, 
 followed by one mighty bark from each of the 
 dogs, had made Magdalen start. " Come in !" 
 shouted the admiral. The door opened ; the 
 tails of Brutus and Cassius cheerfully thumped 
 the floor ; ami old Mazey marched straight up 
 to the right-hand side of his mastbr's chair. 
 The veteran stood there, with his legs wide 
 apart and his balance carefully adjusted — as 
 if the dining-room had been a cabin and the 
 house a ship, pitching in a sc.a-way. 
 ■ The admiral filled the large glass with i)ort, 
 filled his own glass with claret, and raised it 
 to his lips. 
 
 " God bless the Queen, Mazey !" said the 
 admiral. 
 
 " Goii. bless the Queen, your honor," said 
 old Mazev, swallowing his port, as the dogs 
 swallowed the made-dishes, at a gulp. 
 
 " How 's the wind, Mazey ?" 
 
 '.' West and by Noathe, your honor." 
 
 " Any report to-night, Mazey ?" 
 
 " No report, your honor." 
 
 " Good-evening, Mazey." 
 - " Good-evening, your honor." 
 
 The after-dinner ceremony thus completed, 
 old Mazey made Ms bow, and walked out of 
 
236 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 the room again. Brutus and Casslus stretched 
 themselves on the rug to digest mushrooms 
 and made-gravies in the lubricating heat of 
 the fire. " For what we have received, the 
 Lord make us truly thankful," said the admjral. 
 " Go down stairs, my>good girl, and get your 
 supper. A light meal, Lucy, if you take my 
 advice — a light meal, or you will have the 
 nightmare. Early to bed, my dear, and early 
 to rise, makes a parlor - maid healthy, and 
 wealthy, and wise. That 's the wisdom of your 
 ancestors — you mustn't laugh at it. Good- 
 night." In those words Magdalen was dis- 
 missed ; and so her first day's experience of 
 Admiral Bartram came to an end. 
 
 After breakfast the next morning the admi- 
 ral's directions to the new parlor-maid included 
 among them one particular order which, in 
 Magdalen's situation, it was especially her in- 
 terest to receive. In the old gentleman's 
 absence from Rome that day, on local business' 
 which took him to Ossory, she was directed to 
 make herself accjuainted with the whole in- 
 habited quarter of the house, and to learn the 
 positions of the various rooms, so as to know 
 where the bells called her when the bells rang. 
 Mrs. Drake was charged with the duty of su- 
 perintending the voyage of domestic discovery, 
 unless she happened to be otherwise engaged 
 
 — in T^hich case any one of the inferior ser- 
 vants would be equally competent to act as 
 Magdalen's guide. 
 
 At noon the admiral left for Ossory, and 
 Magdalen presented herself in Mrs, Drake's 
 room to be shown over the house. Mrs. Drake 
 happened to be otherwise engaged, and re- 
 ferred her to the head-housemaid. The head- 
 housemaid happened on that particular morn- 
 ing to be in the same condition as Mrs. Drake, 
 and referred her to the under -housemaids. 
 The under-housemaids declared that they were 
 all behindhand, and had not a minute to spare 
 
 — they suggested, not too civill}^, that old 
 Mazey had nothing on earth to do, and that 
 he knew the house as well or better than he 
 knew his ABC. Magdalen took the hint 
 with a secret indignation and contempt which 
 it cost her a hard struggle to conceal. She 
 had suspected on the previous night, and she 
 ■was certain now, that the women-servants all 
 incomprehensibly resented her presence among 
 
 : them with the same sullen unanimity of dis- 
 trust. Mrs. Drake, as she had seen for herself, 
 was really engaged that morning over her 
 accounts. But of all the servants u^er her 
 who hjid made their excuses not one had even 
 
 : affected to be more occupied than usual. Their 
 looks said plainly, "We don't like you, and 
 we won't «how you over the house." 
 
 She found her way to old Mazey, not by the 
 
 , scanty directions given her, but hy the sound 
 of the veteran's cracked and quavering voice, 
 singing, in some distant seclusion, a verse of 
 the immortal rsea-song — " Tom Bowling." Just 
 
 . as she stopped among the rambling stone 
 
 passages on the basement story of the house, 
 uncertain which way to turn next, she heard 
 the tuneless old voice in the distance singing 
 these lines : 
 
 " His form wrffc of the manliest beau-u-u-uty, 
 His heart was ki-i-ind and soft ; 
 Faitliful below Tom did his duty, 
 But now he's gone alo-o-o-o-oft— > 
 But now he's go o-o-one aloft I" 
 
 Magdalen followed in the direction of the 
 quavering voice, and found herself in a little 
 room looking out on the back-yard. There sat 
 oM Mazey, with his spectacles low on his nose 
 and his knotty old hands blundering over the 
 rigging of his model ship. There were Brutus 
 and Cassius digesting before the fire again, and 
 siforing as if they thoroughly enjoyed it. There 
 was Lord Nelson on one wall, in flaming water- 
 colors ; and there, on the other, was a portrait 
 of Admiral Bartram's last flag-ship in full sail 
 on a sea of slate, with a salmon-colored sky to 
 complete the illusion. 
 
 " What ! they won't show you over the 
 house, won't they ?" said old Mazey. " I will, 
 then. That head-housemaid 's a sour one, 
 my dear, if ever there was a sour one yet. 
 You 're too young and good-looking to please 
 'em — that 's what you are." He rose, took off 
 his spectacles, and feebly mended the fire. 
 " She 's as straight as a poplar," said old 
 Mazey, considering Magdalen's figure in 
 drowsy soliloquy. " I say she 's as straight as 
 a poplar ; and his honor the admiral says so 
 too ! Come along, my dear," he proceeded, 
 addressing himself to Magdalen again. " I '11 
 teach 3-ou your Pints of the Compass first. 
 When you know your Pints, bloAV high, blow 
 low, you '11 find it plain sailing all over the 
 house." 
 
 He led the way to the door, stopped, and 
 suddenly bethinking himself of his miniature 
 ship, went back to put his model away in an 
 empty cupboard — led the w^y to the door 
 again — stopped once more — remembered that 
 some of the rooms were chilly — and pottered 
 about, swearing and grumblings, and looking 
 for his hat. Magdalen sat down patiently to 
 wait for him. She gratefully contrasted his 
 treatment of her with' the treatment she had 
 received from the women. Resist it as firmly, 
 despise it as proudly as we inay, all studied 
 unkindness — no matter how contemptible ifc 
 may be — has a stinging power in it which 
 reaches to the quick. Magdalen only knew , 
 how she had felt the small malice of the 
 female servants by the effect which the rough 
 kindness of the old sailor produced on her 
 afterward. The dumb welcome of the dogs, 
 when the movements in the room had roused 
 them from their sleep, touched her more 
 acutely still. Brutus pushed his mighty 
 muzzle companionably into her hand, and 
 Cassius laid his friendly forepaw on her lap. 
 Her heart yearned over the two creatures as 
 she patted and caressed them. It seemed only 
 yesterday since she and the dogs at Combe- 
 Raven had roamed the garden together, and , 
 
NO NMIE. 
 
 237 
 
 had Idled away tbe summer mornings lujcu- 
 ^iously on the shady lawn. 
 
 Old Mazey found his hat at last, and they 
 started on their exploring expedition, with 
 the dogs after them. 
 
 Leaving the basement story of the house, 
 ' which was entirely devoted to the servants' 
 offices, they ascended to the first floor, and 
 entered the long corridor, with which Mag- 
 dalen's last night's experience had already 
 made her acquainted. " Put your back agin 
 this wall," said old Mazey, pointing to the 
 long wall — pierced at irregular intervals with 
 windows looking out over a court-yard and 
 fish-pond — which formed the right-hand side 
 of the corridor, as Magdalen now stood. " Put 
 your- back here," said the veteran, " and look 
 straight afore you. What do 30U see ?" "The 
 opposite wall of the passage," said Magdalen. 
 " Ay ? ay ? what else ?" "The doors leading 
 into the rooms." " What else ?" " I see 
 nothing else." Old Mazey chuckled, winked, 
 and shook his knotty forefinger at ^lagdalen 
 impressively. " You see one of the Pints of 
 the Compass, my dear. When you 've got 
 your back agin this wall, and when you look 
 straight afore you. you look Noathe. If you 
 ever get lost hereaway, put your back agin 
 the wall, look out straight afore you, and say 
 to yourself, ,' I look Noathe !' You do that 
 like a good girl, and you won't lose your bear- 
 ings." 
 
 After administering this preliminary^dose of 
 instruction, old Mazey opened the first of the 
 doors on the left-hand side of the passage. It 
 led into the dining-room, with which Magda- 
 len was already familiar. The second room 
 was fitted up as a library, and the third as a 
 morning-room. The fourth and fifth doors — 
 both belonging to dismantled and uninhabited 
 rooms, and both locked — brought them to the 
 end of the North wing of the house, and to 
 the opening of a second and shorter passage, 
 pladed at a right angle to the first. Here old 
 Mazey, Avho had divided his time pretty equal- 
 ly, during the investigation of the rooms, in 
 talking of" his honor the admiral," and whist- 
 ling to the dogs, returned with all possible 
 expedition to the points of the compass, and 
 gravely directed Magdalen to repeat the cer- 
 emony of putting her back against the wall. 
 She attempted to shorten the proceedings by 
 declaring ((juite correctly) that in her present 
 position she knew she was looking East. 
 " Don't you talk about the East, my dear," 
 said old Mazey, proceeding unmoved with his 
 own system of instruction, " till you know the 
 East first. Put your back agin this wall, and 
 look straight afore you. What do you see ?" 
 The remainder of the catechism proceeded as 
 before. When the end was reached, Magda- 
 len's instructor was satisfied. He chuckled 
 and winked at her once more. " Now you 
 may talk about the East, my dear," said the 
 veteran, " for now you know it." 
 
 The East passage, after leading them on for 
 
 a few yards only, terminated in a vestibule, 
 with a high door in it which faced them as 
 they advanced. The door admitted them to 
 a large and lofty drawing-room, decorated, 
 like all the other apartments, with valuable 
 old - fashioned furniture. Leading the way 
 across this room, Magdalen's conductor pushed 
 back a heavy sliding door, opposite the door 
 of entrance. " Put your apron over your 
 heacf," said old Mazey. " We are coming to 
 the Banketing-hall noAV. The floor 's mortal 
 cold, and the damp sticks to the place like 
 cockroaches to a collier. His honor the ad- 
 miral calls it the Arctic Passage. I've got my 
 name tor it too. I call it Freeze-your-Bones." 
 
 Magdalen passed through the door-way, and 
 found herself in the ancient banqueting-hall 
 of St. Crux. 
 
 On her left hand she saw a roMf of lofty 
 windows, sot deep in embrasul-es, and extend- 
 ing over a frontage of more than a hundred 
 feet in length. On, her right hand, ranged in 
 one long row from end to end of the opposite 
 wall, hung a dismal collection of black be- 
 grimed old pictures, rotting from their frames, 
 and representing battle -scenes by sea and 
 land. Below the pictures, midway down the 
 length of the wall, yawned a huge cavern 
 of a fireplace, surmounted by a towering 
 mantle-piece of black marble. The one ob- 
 ject of furniture (if furniture it might be 
 called) visible far or near in the vast empti- 
 ness of the place was a gaunt ancient tripod 
 of curiously-chased metal, standing lonely in 
 the middle of the hall, and supporting a wide 
 circular pan • filled deep with ashes from an 
 extinct charcoal fire. The high ceiling, once 
 finely carved and gilt, was foul with dirt and 
 cobwebs ; the naked walls at either end of 
 the room were stained with damp ; and the 
 cold of the marble floor struck through the 
 narrow strip of matting laid down, parallel 
 with the windows, as a footpath for passengers 
 across the wilderness of the room. No better 
 name for it could have been devised than the 
 name which old Mazey had found. "Freeze- 
 your-Bones" accurately described, in three 
 words, the Banqueting-hall at St. Crux. ^ 
 
 "Do you never light a fire in this dismal 
 place ?" asked Magda'en. 
 
 "It all depends on which side of Freeze- 
 your-Bones his honor the admiral lives," said 
 old Mazey. " His honor likes to shift his 
 quarters sometimes to one side of the house, 
 sometimes to the other. If he lives Noathe of 
 Freeze-your-Bones — which is where you 've 
 just come from — we don't waste our coals 
 here. If he lives South of Freeze-your-Bones 
 — which is where we ar% going' to next — we 
 light the fire in the grate and the charcoal in 
 the pan. Every night when we do that the 
 damp gets the better of us : every morning 
 we turn to again and get the better of the 
 damp." 
 
 With tnis remarkable explanation old Ma- 
 zey led the way to the lower end of the hall,. 
 
238 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 opened more doors, and showed Magdalen 
 through another suit of rooms, four in number, 
 all of moderate size, and all furnisfied in much 
 the same manner as th&^ooms in the nortliern 
 
 ■wing. S)ie looked out of the windows, and ■ " Noathe " included, and then repeated her 
 
 saw the neglected gardens of St. Crux over- 
 grown with brambles and WQetls. Here and 
 there, at no great distance in the grounds, the 
 smoothly - curving line of one of the tidal 
 streams peculiar to the locality' wound its 
 way, gleaming in the sunlight, through gaps 
 in the brambles and trees. The more distant 
 view ranged over the flat eastward country 
 beyond, speckled with its scattered little vil- 
 lages ; crossed and recrossed by its net-work 
 of " back-waters ;" and terminated abruptly 
 by the long, straight line of sea-wall which 
 protects the defenseless coast of Essex from 
 nivasion by the sea. 
 
 " Have we more rooms still to see ?" asked 
 Magdalen, turning from the view of the gar- 
 den, and looking about her for another door. 
 
 " No more, my dear — "we 've run aground 
 here, and we may as well wear round and put 
 back again/' said old Mazey. " There 's 
 another side to the house — due south of you 
 as you stand now — which is all tumbling about 
 our eai's. You must go out into the garden if 
 
 over 'em again, my dear, beginning with the 
 Noathe." * 
 
 Magdalen assured him that she felt q^uite. 
 familiar by this time with all the points, the 
 
 question in louder tones. The veteran obsti- 
 nately matched her by becoming deafer than 
 ever. 
 
 ".Yes, my dear," lie said ; '.' you 're right; it 
 is chilly in these passages ; and unless I go 
 back to my fire my fire '11 go out — won't it? 
 If you don't feel sure of your Pints of the 
 Compass, come in to me, and I '11 put you 
 right again." He winked benevolently, whis- 
 tled to the dogs, and hobbled ofi". Magdalen 
 heard him chuckle over his own success in 
 balking her curiosity on the subject ofrthe 
 second floor. " I know how to deal with 
 'em ! " said old Mazey to himself, in higli 
 triumph. " Tall and short, native and for- 
 eign, sweethearts and wives — / know how 
 to deal with 'em ! " ' 
 
 Left by herself, Magdalen exemplified the 
 excellence of the old sailor's method of treat- 
 ment, in her particular case, by ascending the 
 stairs immediately, to make her own observa- 
 tions on the second floor. The stone passage 
 here was exactly similar — exce[)t that more 
 you want to see it ; it 's built off from us by a | doors opened out of it — to the passage on tlie 
 "brick bulkhead, t' other side of this wall here. I first floor. She opened the two nearest doors, 
 The monks lived due south of us, my dear. ! one after another, a^t a venture, and discov- 
 hundreds of years afore his lipnor the admiral } ered that both rooms were bedchambers, 
 was born or thought of; and a fine time of it I The fear of being discovered by one of the 
 they had, as I 've heard. They sang in the ! women-servants in a part of the house with 
 church all the moVning, and drank, grog in I which she had no concern, warned her not to 
 the orchard all the afternoon.* They slept off push her investigations on the bedroom floor 
 their grog on the best of feather-beds ; and | too far at starting. . She hurriedly walked 
 they fattened on the neighborhood all the year 1 down the passage to see where it ended ; dis- 
 round. Lucky beggars ! lucky beggars!" ! covered that it came to its termination in a 
 
 Apostrophizing'tlie monks in these terms, j lumber-room, answering to the position of the 
 and evidently regretting that he had not lived j vestibule down stairs, and retraced her steps 
 himself in those good old times, the veteran j immediately. 
 
 led the way back through the rooms. On the ' On her way back she noticed an object 
 return j)assage across " Freeze-vour-Bones "' which had previously escaped her attention. 
 Magdalen preceded him. " She "s as straight It was a low truck]e-bed, placed parallel with 
 as a poplar." mumbled old Mazey to himself, ' the wall, and close to one of the doors on the 
 hobbling along after his youthful companion, I bedroom side. In spite of its strange and 
 and wagging" his venerable head in cordial [ comfortless situation, the bed was apparently 
 approval.'' '•" I never was particular what na- { occupied at night by a sleeper; ,the sheets 
 tion they belonged to ; but I always did like were on it, and the end of a thick, red fisher- 
 them straight and fine-grown, and I always j man's cap peeped out from under the pillow. 
 shall like 'em straight and fine-grown to my She ventured on opening the door near which 
 dvinf dav." ' the bed was placed, and found herself, as she 
 
 " "Are there more rooms to see up stairs, on ! conjectured from certain signs and tokens, in 
 the second floor ? "' asked Magdalen, when ! the admiral's sleeping-<;hamber. A woman's 
 thev had returned to the point from which I observation of the room was all she dared 
 
 they had started. 
 
 The naturally clear, distinrt tones of her 
 voice had hitherto reached the old sailor's 
 imperfect sense of hearing easily enough. 
 Rather to her surprise, he became stone-deaf, 
 on a sudden, to her last question. 
 
 "'Are you sure of your Pints of the Com- 
 pass ? " he inquired. " If you 're not sure, 
 
 risk, and softly closing the door again she re- 
 turned to the kitchen regions. 
 
 The truckle-bed, and the strange position 
 in which it was placed, dwelt on her mind all 
 through the afternoon. Who could possibly 
 sleep "in it ? The remembrance of the red 
 fisherman's cap, and the knowledge she had 
 already gained of Mazey's doglike fidelity to 
 
 put your back agin the wall, and we '11 go all ' his master, helped her to guess that the old 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 239 
 
 sailor might be the occupant of the truckle- 
 bed. But why, with bedrooms enough and 
 to spare, should he occupy that cold and com- 
 fortless situation at night '.'' Why should he 
 sleep on guard outdde his master's door? 
 Was there some nocturnal danger in the 
 house of which the admiral was afraid? The 
 question seemed absurd, and yet the position 
 of the bed forced it irresistibly on her mind. 
 Stimulated by her 6wri ungovernable curi- 
 osity on this subject. Magdalen ventured to 
 (juesr.ion the housekeeper. She acknowk'dged 
 having walked from end to end of the pas- 
 sage on the second floor, to see if it was as 
 long as the passage on the first; and she men- , 
 tioned having noticed with astonishment the 
 position of the truckle - bed. Mrs. Drake 
 answered her. implied inquiry shortly and 
 sharply. " I don't blame a young girl like 
 you," said the old lady, "for being a little 
 curious wlien she first comes into such a strange 
 house as this. But remember, for the future, \ 
 that your business does not lie in the bedroom 
 story. Mr. Mazey sleeps on that bed you 
 noticed. It is his habit at night to sleep out- 
 side his master's door." Witli that meagre 
 explanation Mrs. Drake's lips closed, and 
 opened no more.' 
 
 Later in the day Magdalen found an op- 
 portunitj- of applying to old Mazey himself. 
 She discovered the veteran in high good- 
 humor, smoking his pipe and warming a tin 
 mug of ale at his own snug fire. 
 
 •' ]Mr. MazeyV she asked boldly, " why do 
 you put your bed in that cold passage V" 
 
 *' What! you have been up st.tjrs, you young 
 jade, have you ?" said old Mazey, looking up 
 from his mug with a leer. 
 
 Magdalen smiled and nodded. " Come ! 
 come.! tell "me," she said, eoaxingly. "Why 
 do you sleep outside the admiral's door ?" 
 
 " Why do you part your hair in the middle, 
 my dear ?" asked old Mazey, with another 
 leer. 
 
 " I suppose because I am accustomed to do 
 it," answered Magdalen. 
 
 " Ay ? ay V" said the veteran. " That '3 
 why, is it V Well, my dear, the reason why 
 you part your liair in the middle is the reason 
 why I sleep outside the admiral's door. I 
 know how to deal with 'em ! " chuckled old 
 Maze}', lapsing into soliloquy, and stirring up 
 his ale in high triumph. " Tall and short, 
 native and foreign, sweethearts and wives — 
 / know how to deal with 'em !" 
 
 INIagdalen's third and l*st attempt at solv- 
 ing the mystery of the truckle-bed was made 
 while she was waiting on the admiral at din- 
 ner. The old gentleman's questions gave her 
 an opportunity of referring to the subject 
 without any appearance of presumption or 
 disrespect ; but he proved to be quite as im- 
 penetrable, in his way, as old Mazey and 
 Mrs. Drake had been in theirs. " It doesn't 
 eonccrn you, my dear," said the admiral, 
 bluntly. " Don't be curious. Look in your 
 
 Old Testament when you go down stairs, and 
 see what happened in the Garden of Eden 
 through curiosity. Be a good girl, and don't 
 imitate youi* mother Eve." 
 
 As Magdalen passed the end of the second- 
 floor passage late at night, proceeding alone 
 on hep way up to her own room, she stopped 
 and listened. A screen was placed at the 
 entrance of the corridor, so as to hide it from 
 the view of persons passing on the stairs. 
 The snoring she heard on the other side of 
 the screen encouraged her to slip round it, 
 and to advance a few steps. Shading the 
 light of her candle with her hand, she ven- 
 tured close to the admiral's door, and saw to 
 her surprise that the bed had been moved 
 since she had seen it in the daytime, so as to 
 stand exactly across the door, and to bar the 
 way entirely to any one who might attempt 
 to enter tlie admiral's room. • After this dis- 
 covery, old Mazey himself snoring lustily, 
 with the red fisherman's cap pulled down to 
 his eyebrows, and the blankets drawn up to 
 his nose, became an object of secondary im- 
 portance only by comparison with his bed. 
 That the veteran did actually sleep on guard 
 before his master's door, and that he and the 
 admiral ancl the housekeeper were in the 
 secret of this unaccountable proceeding, was 
 now beyond all doubt. 
 
 " A strange end" — thought Magdalen, pon- 
 dering over her discovery as she stole up 
 ' stairs to her own sleeping-room — " a strange 
 end to a strange day !" 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 The first week passed, the second week 
 passed, and Magdalen was, to all appearance, 
 no nearer to the discovery of the Secret 
 Trust than on the day when she first entered 
 on her service at St. Crjix. 
 
 But the fortnight, uneventful though it 
 was, had not been a fortnight lost. Experi- 
 ence had already satisfied her on one impor- 
 tant point — experience had shown that she 
 could set the rooted distrust of the other ser- 
 vants satcly at defiance. Time had accus- 
 tomed the women to her presence in the 
 house, without shaking the vague conviction, 
 which possessed them all alike, that the new- 
 comer was not one of themselves. All that 
 Magdalen could do in her own defense was 
 to keep the int^tinctive female suspicion of her 
 confined within those purely negative limits 
 which it had occupied from the first, and this 
 she accomplished. 
 
 Day atter day the women watched her 
 with the untiring vigilance of malice and dis- 
 trust, and day after day not tlie vestige of 
 a discovery rewarded them for their pai^is. 
 Silently, intelligently, and industriously, with, 
 an ever-present remembrance of herself and 
 her place, the new parlor-maid did her work. 
 
240 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 Her only intervals of rest and relaxation 
 were the intervals passed occasionally, in the 
 day, with old Mazey and the dogs, and the 
 precious interval of j;he night, during which 
 she was secure from observation in the soli- 
 tude of her room. Thanks to the superfluity 
 of bedchambers at St. Crux, each one of the 
 servants had the choice, if she pleased, of 
 sleeping in a room of her own. Alone in the 
 night, Magdalen . might dare to be herself 
 again — might dream of the past, and wake 
 from the dream, encountering no curious eyes 
 to notice that she was in tears — might ponder 
 over the future, and be roused by no whis- 
 pering in corners, which tainted her with the 
 suspicion of " having something on her mind.'" 
 
 Satisfied, thus far, of the perfect security 
 of her position in the house, she profited next 
 by a second chance in her faVor, which — 
 before the fortnight was at an end — relieved 
 her mind of all doubt on the formidable sub- 
 ject of Mrs. Lecount. 
 
 Partly from the accidental gossip of the wom- 
 en at the table in the servants' hall — partly 
 from a marked paragraph in a Swiss newspa- 
 per which she had found one morning lying 
 open on the admiral's easy-chair — she gained 
 the welcome assurance that no danger was to 
 be dreaded this time from the housekeeper's 
 presence on the scene. Mrs. Lecount had, as 
 it appeared, passed a week or more at St. 
 Crux after the date of her master's death, 
 and had then left England to live on the in- 
 terest of her legacy, in honorable and pros- 
 perous retirement, in her native place. The 
 paragraph in the Swiss newspaper described 
 the fulfilment of this laudable project. Mrs. 
 Lecount had not only established herself at 
 Zurich, but (wisely mindful of the uncertain- 
 ty of life) had also settled the charitable uses 
 to which her fortune was to be applied after 
 her death. One-half of it was to go to the 
 founding of a " Lecompte Scholarship " for 
 poor students in the University of Geneva. ' 
 The other half was to be employed by the 
 municipal authorities of Zurich in the main- 
 tenance and education of a certain number of 
 orphan girls, natives of the city, who were to 
 be trained for domestic service in later life. 
 The Swiss journalist adverted to these philan- 
 thropic bequests in terms of extravagant 
 eulogy. Zurich was congratulated on the 
 possession of a Paragon of public virtue ; and 
 William Tell, in the character of benefactor 
 to Switzerland, was compared disadvanta- 
 geously with IMrs. Lecount. 
 
 The third week began, and Magdalen was 
 now at liberty to take her first step forward on 
 the way to the discovery of the Secret Trust. 
 
 She ascertained from old Mazey that it was 
 his master's custom, during the winter and 
 spring months, ^ occupy the rooms in the 
 north wing ; and during the summer and au- 
 tumn to cross the Arctic passage of " Freeze- 
 your-Bones," and live in the eastward apart- 
 
 ments which looked out on the garden. While 
 the Banqueting-hall remained — owing to the 
 admiral's inadequate pecuniary resources — in 
 its damp and dismantled state, and while the 
 interior of St. Crux was thus comfortlessly 
 divided into two separate residences, no more 
 convenient arrangement than this could well 
 have been devised. Now and then (as Mag- 
 dalen understood from her informant) there 
 were days, both in Avinter and summer, when 
 the admiral became anxious about the condi- 
 tion of the rooms which he was not occupying 
 at the time, and when he insisted on investi- 
 gating the state of the furniture, the pictures, 
 and the books with his own eyes. On these 
 occasions — in summer as in winter — a blazing 
 fire was kindled for some days previously in 
 the large grate, and the charcoal was lit in 
 the tripod pan, to keep the Banqueting-hall 
 as warm as circumstances wouhl admit. As 
 soon as the old gentleman's anxieties were set 
 at rest the rooms were shut up again ; and 
 " Freeze-your-Bones " was once more aban- 
 doned for weeks and weeks together to damp, 
 desolation, and decay. The last of these ■ 
 temporary migrations had taken place only a 
 few days since; the admiral had satisfied him- 
 self that tho rooms in the east wing were 
 none the worse for the absence of their mas- 
 ter — and he might now be safely reckoned on 
 as settled in the north wing for weeks, and 
 perhaps, if the season was cold, for months to 
 come. 
 
 Trifling as they might be in themselves, 
 these particulars were of serious .importance 
 to Magdalen, for they helped her to fix the 
 «limits of the field of search. Assuming that 
 the admiral was likely to keep all his im- 
 portant documents within easy reach of his 
 own hand, she might now feel c'ertaiu that the 
 Secret Trust was secured in one or other of 
 the rooms in the north wing. 
 
 In which room ? That question was not 
 easy to answer. 
 
 Of the four inhabitable rooms, which were 
 all at the admiral's disposal during the day — 
 that is to say, of the dining-room, the library, 
 the morning -room, and the drawing-room, 
 opening out of the vestibule — the library ap- 
 peared to be the apartment in which, if he 
 had a preference, he passed the greater part 
 of his time. There was a table in this room, . 
 with drawers that locked ; there was a mag-.^ 
 nificent Italian cabinet, with doors that' 
 locked ; there were five cupboards under the 
 bookcases, every one of which locked. There 
 were receptacles similarly secured in the other 
 rooms, in all or any of which papers might be 
 kept. 
 
 She had answered the bell, and had seen 
 him locking and unlocking, now in one room, 
 now in another — but oftenest in the library. 
 She had noticed occasionally that his ex- 
 pression was fretful and impatient when he 
 looked round at her from an open cabinet or 
 Cupboard and gave his orders; and she in- 
 
NO NAME. , 
 
 241 
 
 ferred that something iu connection with his 
 papers and possessions — it might or might not 
 be the Secret Trust — irritated and annoyed 
 hira from time to time. She had heard him 
 more than once lock something up in one 
 of the rooms — come out and go into another 
 room — wait there a few minutes — then return 
 ^o the first room, with his kejs in his hand — 
 and sharply turn the locks, and turn them 
 again. This fidgety anxiety about his keys 
 and his cupboards might be the result of the 
 inbred restlessness of his disposition, aggra- 
 vated in a naturally active man by the aim- 
 less indolence of a life in retirement — a life 
 drifting backward and forward among trifies, 
 with no regular employment to steady it at 
 any giV'Cn hour of the day. On the other 
 hand, it was just as probable that these com- 
 ings and goings, these lockings and unlock- 
 ings, might be attributable to the existence of 
 some private responsibility which had unex- 
 pectedly intruded itself into the old man's 
 easy existence, and which tormented him 
 with a sense of oppression new to the ex- 
 perience of his later years. Either one of 
 these interpretations might explain his con- 
 duct as reasonably and as probably as the 
 other. Which was the right interpretation 
 of the two, it was, in Magdalen's position, 
 impossible to say. 
 
 The one certain discovery at which she 
 arrived was made in her first day's obser- 
 vation of him. The admiral was a rigidly 
 careful man with his keys. 
 
 All the smaller keys he kept on a ring 
 in the breast-pocket of his coat. The larger 
 he locked up together — generally, but not 
 always, in one of the drawers of the library- 
 table. Sometimes he left them secured in this 
 way at night ; sometimes he took them up to 
 the bedroom with him in a little basket. He 
 had no regular times for leaving them or for 
 taking them away with him; he had no dis- 
 coverable reason for now securing them in 
 the library- table drawer, and now again 
 locking them up in some other place. The 
 inveterate wilfulness and caprice of nis pro- 
 ceedings in these particulars defied every 
 efl'brt to reduce them to a system, and bafHed 
 all attempts at calculating on them before- 
 hand. 
 
 The hope of gaining positive infiirmation to 
 act on, by laying artful snares for him which 
 he might fall into in his talk, proved, from the 
 outset, to be utterly futile. 
 
 In Magdalen's situation all experiments of 
 this sort would have been in the last degree 
 difficult and dangerous with any man. With 
 the admiral they were simply impossible. His 
 tendency to veer about from one subject to 
 another ; his habit of keeping his tongue per- 
 petually going so long as there was anybody, 
 no matter whom, within regtch of the sound of 
 his voice ; his comical want of all dignity and 
 reserve with his servants promised, in appear- 
 ance, much, and performed, in reality, noth- 
 
 ing. No matter how diffidently or how 
 respectfully Magdalen might presume on her 
 master's example, and on her master's evi- 
 dent liking for her, the old man instantly 
 discovered the advance she'was making from 
 her proper position, and instantly put her 
 back in it again, with a^ibint good humor 
 which inflicted no pain, but with a blunt 
 straightforwardness of purpose which per- 
 mitted no escape. ContSedictory as it may 
 sound. Admiral Bartram was too familiar to 
 be approached ; he kept the distance between 
 himself and his servant more efl^ectually than 
 if he had been the proudest man in England. 
 The systematic reserve of a superior toward 
 
 an inferior may be occasionally overcome 
 
 the systematic familiarity, never. 
 
 Slowly the time dragged on. The fourth 
 week came, and Magdalen had made no new 
 discoveries. The prospect was depressing in 
 the last degree. Even in the apparently 
 hopeless event of her devising a means of 
 getting at tho admiral's keys, she could not 
 count on retaining possession of them un- 
 suspected more than a few hours — hours 
 which might be utterly wasted through her 
 not knowing in what direction to begin the 
 search. The Trust might be locked up in any 
 one of some twenty receptacles for papers, 
 situated in four different rooms ; and which 
 room was the likeliest to look in* which 
 receptacle was the most promising to befin 
 with, which position, among othej- heaps of 
 papers, the one paper needful might be ex- 
 pected to occupy, was more than she could say. 
 Hemmed in by immeasurable uncertainties on 
 every side — condemned, as it were, to wander 
 blindfold on the very brink of success — she 
 waited for the chance that never came, for 
 the event that never happened, with a pa- 
 tience which was sinking already into the 
 patience of despair. 
 
 Night after night she looked back over the 
 vanished days, and not an event rose on her 
 memory to distinguish them one from the 
 other. The only interruptions to the weary 
 uniformity of the life at St. Crux were caused 
 by the characteristic delinquencies of old Ma- 
 zey and the dogs. 
 
 At certain intervals the original wildness 
 broke out in the natures of, Brutus and Ca.s- 
 .sius. The modest comforts of home, the savory 
 charms of made - dishes, the decorous joy of 
 digestions accomplished on hearth -rugs,'lost 
 all their attractions, and the dogs ungratefully 
 left the house to seek dissipation and adven- 
 ture in the outer world. On these occasions 
 the established after-dinner formula of ques- 
 tion and answer between old Mazey and his 
 master varied a little in one particular. " God 
 bless th •. t^ueen, Mazey," and "how 's the 
 wind, Mazey';*" were followed by a new in- 
 quiry : " Where are the dogs, Mazey ?" " Out 
 on the loose, your honor, and be damned to 
 'em," was th« veteran's unvarying answer. 
 The admiral always sighed, and shook his head 
 
242 
 
 No NAME. 
 
 orravely at the news, as if Brutus and Cassius 
 !ml been sons of his own, who treated him 
 with a want of proper filial respect. , In two 
 or three days time the dogs always returned, 
 lean, dirty, and liiaartily ashamed of them- 
 selves. For the Vbble of the next day they 
 were invariably tied up in disgrace. On the 
 day after they werB ^scrubbed clean, and were 
 formally readmittea to the dining-room. There ; 
 Civilization, acting through the subtle medium i 
 of the Saucepan, recovered its hold on them, j 
 and the admiral's two prodigal sons, when they ! 
 .saw the covct-s removed, watered at the mouth j 
 as copiously as ever. 
 
 Old Mazey, in liis way, proved to be just as 
 disreputably inclined on certain occasions as 
 the dogs. At intervals, the original wildness 
 in Kis nature broke out : he, too, lost all relish 
 for the comforts of home, and ungratefully left 
 the house.' He usually disappeared in the 
 afternoon, and returned at night as drunk as 
 liquor could make him. He was by many de- 
 <rrees too seasoned a vessel to meet- with any 
 disasters on these occasions. His wicked old 
 legs jnight take roundabout methods of pro- 
 •rression, but they never failed him ; his wicked 
 old eyes might see double, but they always j 
 showed him the way home. Try as hard as | 
 they miglit, the servants could never succeed | 
 in persuading him that he was drunk: he I 
 always sPorned the imputation. He even de- j 
 clined to admit the idea privately into his j 
 mind until he had first tested his condition by | 
 an infallible criterion of his own. I 
 
 It was his habit in these cases of Bacchana- ! 
 lian emergency to stagger obstinately into his 
 room on tlie ground-floor — to take the model 
 ship out of the cupboard — and to try if he ! 
 could proceed with the n over-to-be-completed ; 
 employment of setting up the rigging. „ When 
 he had smashed the tiny spars and snapped j 
 asunder the delicate ropes — then, and not till , 
 then, the veteran admitted facts as they were, j 
 on the authority of practical evidence. •' Ay ! j 
 ay !" he used to say confidentially to himself | 
 " The women are right. Drunk again, Mazey ■ 
 — drunk again !" Having reached this dis- ' 
 covery, it was his habit to wait cunningly in 
 the lower regions uutil the admiral was safe ; 
 in his room, and then to ascend, in discreet 
 list slippers, to his post. Too wary to attempt 
 ^retttfng into the truckle-bed (whicj) would have ] 
 been only inviting the catastrophe of a fall 
 asiainst his master's door), he always walked 
 hfmself sober up and down the passage. More 
 than once Magdalen had peeped round the 
 screen, and had seen the old sailor unsteadily 
 keeping his watch, and fancying himself once 
 more at his duty on board ship. " This is an 
 uncommonly lively vessel in a sea-way,'' he 
 used to mutter under his breath, when his legs 
 took him down the passage in *:igzag direc- 
 tions, or left him, for the moment, studying 
 the " Pints of the Compass" on his own sys- 
 tem, with his back against the wall. " A nasty 
 ni«^ht,mind you," he would maunder on, taking 
 
 another turn. " As dark as your pocket, and 
 the wind heading us again from the old quar- 
 ter." On the next day, old Mazey, like the 
 dogs, was kept down stairs in disgrace. On 
 the day after, like the dogs ^gain, he was re- 
 instated in his privileges, and another change 
 was introduced in the after-dinner formula. 
 On entering the room the old sailor stopped 
 short and made his excuses in this brief yet 
 comprehensive form of words, with his back 
 against the door : " Please your honor, I 'm 
 ashamed of myself." So the apology began 
 and ended. " This mustn't happen again, 
 Mazey," the admiral used to answer. "It 
 shan't happen again, your honor." " Very 
 good. Come here and drink your glass of 
 wine. God bless the Queen, Mazey." The 
 veteran tossed off his port, and the dialogue 
 ended as usual. 
 
 So the days passed, with no incidents more 
 important than these to relieve their monoto- 
 ny, until the end of the fourth week was at 
 hand. 
 
 On the last day an event happened ; on the 
 last day the long - deferred promise of the fu- 
 ture unexpectedly began to dawn. While 
 Magdalen was spreading the cloth in the 
 dinfng-room as usual, Mrs. Drake looked in, 
 and instructed her on this occa.sion, for the 
 first time, to lay the table tor two persons. 
 The admiral hadjreceived a letter from his 
 nephew. Early that evening Mr. George 
 Barti-am was expected to return to St. Crux. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 After placing the second cover, Magdalen 
 awaited the ringing of the dinner-bell with an 
 interest and impatience which she found it no 
 easy task to cohceal. The return of Mr. 
 Bartram would, in .all probability, produce a 
 change in the life of the house, and from 
 change of any kind, no matter how trifling, 
 something might be hoped. The nephew 
 might be accessible to influences which had 
 failed to I'cach the uncle. In any case the 
 two would talk of their afl'airs over their din- 
 ner, and through that talk — proceeding day 
 after day in her presence — the way to discov- 
 ery, now absolutely invisible, might, sooner or 
 later, show itself 
 
 At last the bell rang, the door opened, 
 and the two gentlemen entered- the room to- 
 gether. 
 
 Magdalen was struck, as her sister had been 
 struck, by George Bartram's resemblance to 
 her father — ^judging by the portrait at Combe- 
 Raven, which presented the likeness of An- 
 drew Vanstone in his younger days. The 
 light hair and florid complexion, the bright 
 blue eyes and hardy, upright figure, familiar 
 to her in the picture, were all recalled to her 
 memory a* the nephew followed the uncle 
 
NO NAMK 
 
 243 
 
 across the room and took his pla<'e at tabU'. comes tu ;m tn(i on the third of May, and 
 She was not prepared for this sudden revival > there you sit as if you had years still befors 
 of the lost associations of home. . Her atten- you to turn round in.'" 
 
 tion wandered as she tried to conceal its effect 
 on her ; and she made a blunder in waiting 
 at table, for the first time since she had en- 
 tered the house. 
 
 George smiled, and resignedly helped him- 
 self to some wine. 
 
 •'Am I really to understand. Sir," he asked, 
 " that you are serious in what you said to me 
 
 A quaint reprimand from the admiral, half ] last November ? Are you actually resolved 
 in jest, half in earnest, gave her time to re- to bind me to that incompreheji "ble condi- 
 cover herself She ventured another look at : tion V" 
 
 Georf^e Bartram. The imjjression which he "1 don't call it incomprehensible," said the 
 produced on her this time roused her curiosity i admiral, irritably., • 
 
 immediately. His face and manner plainly ; "Don't you, Sir? I am to inherit your 
 expressed anxiety and preoccupation of mind. I estate, unconditionally, as you have gener- 
 He looked oftener at his plate than at his i ously settled it from the first. But I am not 
 uncle; and at Magdalen herself — except one I to touch a farthing of the fortune poor Noel 
 passing inspection of the new parlor-maid left you unless I am married within a certain 
 when the admiral spoke to her — he never j- time. The house and lands are to be mine 
 looked at all. Some uncertainty was evident- j (thanks to your kindness) under any circum- 
 ly troubling his thoughts ; some oppression i stances. But the money with which I might 
 was weighing on his natural freedom of man- i improve them both is to be arbitrarily taken 
 What'uncertainty V what oppression ? ! away from me if I am not a married man on 
 
 I am sadly wanting in in- 
 say, but a more incompre- 
 
 Would any personal revelations come out, lit- i the third of May. 
 tie by little, in the course of conversation at I telligence, I dare 
 
 the dinner-table V 
 
 No. One set of dishes followed another set 
 of dishes, and nothing in the shape of a per- 
 sonal revelation took place. The conversa- 
 tion halted on irregularly, between public 
 affairs on one side and triffing private topics 
 
 hensible proceeding I never heard of." 
 
 " No snapping and snarling, George ! Say 
 
 your say out. We don't understand sneering 
 
 in Her Majesty's Navy I" 
 
 " I mean no offense, Sir. But I think it 's 
 
 a little hard to astohish me by a change of 
 
 on the other. Politics, home and foreign, proceeding on your part entirely foreign to 
 
 took their turn with the small household hi 
 tory of St. Crux : the leaders of the revolu- 
 tion which expelled Louis Philippe from the 
 throne of France marched side by side in the 
 dinner-table review with old Mazey and the 
 dogs. The dessert was put on the table ; the 
 old sailor came in — drank his loyal toast — 
 paid his respects to " Master George " — and 
 
 ray e ">erie)i('e of your character, and then, 
 when X naturally ask for an explanation, to 
 turn round coolly and leave me in the dark. 
 If you and Noel came to some private arrange- 
 ment together before he made his will, why 
 not tell me ? Why set up a mystery between 
 us where no mystery need be ?" 
 
 " I won't have it, George !" cried the admi- 
 
 went out again. Magdalen followed him, on ! ral, angrily drumming on the table ^ith the 
 
 nut-crackers. " You are trying to draw me 
 like a badger, but I won't be drawn ! I '11 
 make any conditions I please ; and I '11 be 
 accountable to nobody for them unless I like. 
 It 's quite bad enough to have worries and 
 responsibilities kid on my unlucky shoulders 
 that 1 never bargained for — never mind what 
 worries : they 're not yours, they 're mine — 
 without being questioned and cross-questioned 
 as if I was "a witness in a box. Here 's a 
 pretty fellow !" continued the admiral, apos- 
 trophizing his nephew in red-hot irritation, 
 and addressing himself to the dogs on the 
 hearth-rug for want of a better audience. 
 " Here 's a pretty fellow ! He is asked to 
 help himself to two uncommonly conjfortable 
 things in their way — a fortune and a wife — 
 he is allowed six months to get the wife in 
 (we should have got her in the Navy, bag and 
 baggage, in si.x days) — he has a round dozen 
 of nice girls, to my certain knowledge, in one 
 part of the country and another, all at his 
 disposal to choose from — and what does he 
 do .'' He sits month after month with his lazy 
 legs crossed before him ; he leaves the girls to 
 pine on the stem ; and he bothers his ancle to 
 
 her way back to the servants' offices, having 
 heard nothing in the conversation of the 
 slightest importance to the furtherance of her 
 own design, from the first word of it to the 
 last. She struggled hard not to lose heart 
 and hope on the first day. They could hard- 
 ly talk again to-morrow, they could hardly 
 talk again the next day, of the French Revo- 
 lution and the dogs. Time might do wonders 
 yet ; and Time was all her own. 
 
 Lefl together over their wine, the uncle and 
 nephew drew their easy-chairs on either side 
 of the fii*e, and, in Magdalen's absence, began 
 the very conversation which it was Magda- 
 len's interest to hear. 
 
 " Claret, George ?" said the admiral, push- 
 ing the bottle across the table. " You look 
 out of spirits." 
 
 " I am a little anxious, Sir," replied George, 
 leaving his glass empty, and looking straight 
 into the fire. 
 
 " I am glad to bear it," rejoined thg admi- 
 ral. " I am more than a little anxious myself, 
 I can tell you. Here we are at the last days 
 of March — and nothincr done ? Your time 
 
244 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 know the reason why ! I pity the poor unfor- 
 tunate women ! Men were made of flesh and 
 blood — and plenty of it, too — in my time. 
 They 're made of machinery now." 
 
 " I can only repeat, Sir, T am sorry to have 
 oifended you," said George. 
 
 "Pooh! pooh! you needn't look at me'in 
 that languishing way if you are," retorted 
 the admiral. " Stick to your wine, and I '11 
 forgive you. Your good health, George. I 'm 
 glad to see you again at St. Crux. Look at 
 that plateful of sponge-cakes ! The cook has 
 sent them up in honor of jour return. We 
 can't hurt her feelings, and we can't spoil 
 our wine. Here !" The admiral tossed four 
 sponge-cakes in quick succession down the 
 accommodating throats of the dogs. " I 'm 
 sorry, George," the old gentleman gravely 
 proceeded — " I 'm really sorry you haven't 
 got your eye on one of those nice girls. You 
 don't know what a loss you 're inflicting on 
 yourself — you don't know what trouble and 
 mortification you 're causing me — by this 
 shilly-shally conduct of yours." 
 
 " If you would only allow me to explain 
 myself, Sir, you would view my conduct in a 
 totally different light. I am ready to marry 
 to-morrow, if the lady will have me." 
 
 " The devil you are ! So you have got a ! 
 lady in your eye after all V Why in Heaven's ! 
 name couldn't you tell me so before ? Never 
 mind — I '11 forgive you everything now I 
 know you have laid your hand on a wife. 
 Fill your glass again. Plere's her health in a 
 bumper. By the by, who is she ?" 
 
 '' 1 '11 tell you directly, admiral. When I 
 we began this conversation, I mentioned that 
 I was a little anxious — " 
 
 " Sh» 's not one of my round dozen of nice 
 girls — aha. Master George, I see that in your 
 I'ace already ! Why are you anxious ?" 
 
 " I am afraid you will disapprove of my 
 choice, Sir." 
 
 " Don't beat about the bush ! How the 
 deuce can I say whether I disapprove or not 
 if you won't tell me who she is ?" 
 
 " She is the eldest daughter of Andrew 
 Vanstone of Combe-Raven." 
 "Who!!!" 
 
 " Miss Va'nstoue, Sii*." 
 The admiral put down his' glass of wine 
 untasted. 
 
 " You 're right, George," he said. " I do 
 disapprove of your choice — strongly disap- 
 prove of it." 
 
 " Is it the misfortune of her birth, Sir, that 
 you object to ?" 
 
 " God forbid ! the misfortune of her birth 
 is not her fault, poor thing. You know as 
 well as I do, George, what I object to." 
 " You object to her sister ?" 
 ** Certainly ! The most liberal man alive 
 might object to her sister, I think." 
 
 "It 's hard,' Sir, to make Miss ' Vanstone 
 suffer for her sister's faults." 
 " Fatdts, do you call them ? Yqu have a 
 
 mighty convenient memory, George, where 
 your own interests are concerned." 
 
 " Call them crimes, if you like, Sir — I say 
 again, it 's hard on ]\Iis9 Vanstone. Miss 
 Vanstone's life is pure of all reproach. From 
 first to last she has borne her hard lot with 
 such patience, and sweetness, and courage as 
 not one woman in a thousand would have 
 shown in her place. Ask Miss Garth, who 
 has known her from childhood. Ask Mrs. 
 Tyrrel, who blesses the day when she came 
 into the house — " 
 
 '• Ask a fiddlestick's end ! I beg your par- 
 don, George — but you are enough to try the 
 patience of a saint. My good fellow, I don't 
 deny Miss Vanstone's virtues ; I '11 admit, if 
 you like, she 's the best woman that ever put 
 on a petticoat. That is not the question — ''' 
 " Excuse me, admiral — it hi the question, 
 if she is to be my wife." 
 
 " Hear me out, George ; look at it from my 
 point of view as well as your own. What 
 did your cousin Noel do ? Your cousin Noel 
 fell a victim, poor fellow, to one of the vilest 
 conspiracies I ever heard of; and the prime 
 mover of that conhj)iracy was Miss Vanstone'8 
 damnable sister. She deceived him in the 
 most infamous manner ; and as soon as she 
 was .down for a handsome legacy in his will 
 she had the poisOn ready to take his life. 
 That is the truth — we know it from Ml*s. 
 Lecount, who found the bottle lotrked up in 
 her own room. If you marry Miss A''anstone. 
 you make this wretc.h your sister-in-law. She 
 becomes a member of our family. All the 
 disgrace of what tAw has don*; ; all the dis- 
 grace of what she mai/ do — and the Devil 
 who possesses her only knows what lengths 
 she may go to next — becomes our disgrace. 
 Good Heavens, George, consider what a posi- 
 tion that is ! Consider what pitch you touch 
 if you make this woman your sister-in-law." 
 
 " You have put your side of the question, 
 admiral," said George, resolutely ; " now let 
 me put mine. A certain impression is pro- 
 duced on me by a young lady, whom I meet 
 with under A'ery interesting circumstances. 
 I don't act headlong on that impression, as I 
 might have done if I had been some years 
 younger — I wait and put it to the trial. 
 Every time I see this young lady the impres- 
 sion strengthens — her beauty grows on me, 
 her character grows on me ; when I am away 
 from her I am restless and diss^isfied ; when 
 I am with her I am the happiest man alive. 
 All I hear of her conduct from tho^e who 
 know her best more than confirms the high 
 opinion I have formed of her. The one draw- 
 back I can discover is caused by a misfortune 
 for which she is not responsible — the misfor- 
 tune of having a sister who is utterly un- 
 worthy of her. Does this discovery — an 
 unpleasant discovery, I grant you — destroy 
 all those good qualities in Miss Vanstone for 
 which I love and admire her? Nothing of 
 the sort — it only makes her good qualities 
 
NO NAAIE. 
 
 245 
 
 all the more precious to me by contrast. If 
 I am to have a drawback to contend with — 
 and who expects anything else in this world ? 
 I would infinitely rather have the drawback 
 attached to my wife's sister than to my wife. 
 My wife's sister is not essential to my happi- 
 ness, but my wife is. In my opinion, Sir, Mrs. 
 Noel Vanstone has done mischief enough al- 
 ready — I^ don't see the necessity of letting 
 her do more mischief by depriving me of a 
 good wife. Right or wrong, that is my point 
 of view. I don't wish to trouble you witli 
 any cpiestions of sentiment. All I wish to 
 say is, that T am old enough by this time to 
 know myi own mind, j\nd that my mind is 
 made up. If my marriage is essential to the 
 e.\ecution of your intentioiLs on my behalf, 
 there is only one woman in the world whom 
 1 can marry — and that woman is Miss Van- 
 stone." 
 
 There was no resisting this plain declara- 
 tion. Admiral Bartram rose from his ohair 
 without making any reply, and walked )>er- 
 turbedly uj) and down the room. 
 
 The situation was emphatically a serions 
 one. Mrs. Girdlestone's death had already 
 produced the failure of one of the two objects 
 contemplated by the Secret Trust. If the 
 third of May arrived and found George a 
 single man, the second (and last) of the ob- 
 jects would then have failed in its turn. In 
 little more than a fortnight at the very latest 
 the Bans must be published in Ossory church 
 
 — or the time would fail for compliance with 
 one of tlie stipulations insisted on in the 
 Trust. Obstinate as the admiral was by na- 
 ture, strongly as he felt the objections which 
 attached to his nephew's contemplated al- 
 liance, he lecoiled, in spite of himself, as he 
 paced the room and saw the facts, on either 
 side, immovably staring him in the face. 
 
 "Are you engaged to Miss Vanstone V" he 
 asked, suddenly. 
 
 " No, Sir," replied George. " 1 thought it 
 due to your uniform kindness to me to speak 
 to you on the subject first." 
 
 '• Much obliged, I 'm sure. And you have 
 put oflT speaking to me to the last moment, 
 just as you put off everything else. Do you 
 think Miss Vanstone #ill say Yes when you 
 ask her V" 
 
 George hesitated. 
 
 " The devil take youi- modesty I " shouted 
 the admiral. " This is not a time for ^podesty 
 
 — this is a time for speaking out. Will she 
 or won't she ?" 
 
 " I think she will. Sir." 
 
 The admiral laughed sardonically, and took 
 another turn in the room. He suddenly stop- 
 ped, put his hands in his pockets, and stood 
 still in a corner deep in thought. After an 
 interval of a few minutes his face cleared, a 
 little : it brightened with the dawning of a 
 new idea. He walked round briskly to 
 (fcorgo's side'of the fire, and laid his hand 
 kindly on his nephew's shoulder. 
 
 " You 're wrpng, George," he said ; " but it 
 is too late iww to set you right. On the six- 
 teenth of next month the Bans must be put 
 up in Ossory church, or you will lose the 
 money. Have you told Miss Vanstone the 
 position you stand in ? Or have you put 
 that off to the eleventh hour, like everything 
 else ?" 
 
 '• The position is so extraordinary, Sir, and 
 it might lead to so much misapprehension of 
 my motives, that I have felt unwilling to al- 
 lude to it. I hardly know how I can tell her 
 of- it at all." ^ 
 
 " Try the experiment of telling her friends. 
 Let them know it 's a question of money, and 
 they will overcome her scruples, if you can't. 
 But that is not what I had to say to you. 
 How long do you propose stopping hei-e this 
 time y 
 
 " I thought of staying a few days, and 
 then — " 
 
 " And then of going back to London and 
 making your oft'er, I suppose V Will a week 
 give you time eiiough to pick your opportuni- 
 ty with Miss Vanstone — a week out of the 
 fortnight or so that you have to spare V" 
 
 " I will stay here a week, admiral, with 
 pleasure, if \ou wish it." 
 
 " 1 don't wish it. I want you to pack up 
 your traps and be off to-morrow." 
 
 (ieorge looked at his uncle in silent aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 " You found some letters waiting for you 
 when you got here," proceeded the admiral. 
 " Was one of those letters from my old friend. 
 Sir Franklin Brock V" 
 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 " Was it an invitation to you to go and stay 
 at the Grange ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 " To go at once ?" 
 
 " At once, if I could manage it." 
 
 " Very good. I want you to manage it. 
 I want you to start for tlie Grange to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 George looked back at tlie fire, and sighed 
 impatiently. 
 
 •' I understand you now, admiral," he said. 
 " You are entirely mistaken in me. My at- 
 tachment to Miss Vanstone is not to be .shaken 
 in that manner." 
 
 Admiral Bartram took his quarter-deck 
 walk again uj) and down the room. 
 
 "One good turn deserves another, George," 
 said the old gentleman. " If I am willing to 
 make con(;essiona on my side, the least you 
 can do is to meet me half-way, and make con- 
 cessions on yours." 
 
 " I don't deny it, Sir." 
 
 " Very well. Now listen to my proposal. 
 Give me a fair hearing, George — a fair hear- 
 ing is every man's privilege. I will be per- 
 fectly just to begin with. I won't attempt to 
 deny that you honestly believe Miss Vanstone 
 is the only woman in the world who can make 
 you happy. I don't question that. Wliat I 
 
246 
 
 Nt) NAMK. 
 
 do question is, whether you really know your 
 own mind in this matter quite so well as you 
 1 liink you know it yourself. You can't deny. 
 <i'i'orge, that you have been in love with a 
 ■rood many women in your time? Among 
 t he rest of them, you have been in love with 
 >Miss Brock. No longer ago than this time 
 lust year there was a sneaking kinaness be- 
 tween you and that young lady, to say the 
 least of it. And quite right, too ! Miss Brock 
 is one of that round dozen of darlings I men- 
 tioned over our first glass of wine." 
 
 " You are confusing an idle flirtation, Sir, 
 with a serious attcH-hment," said George. 
 " You are altogether mistaken — vou are, in- 
 deed.'; 
 
 " Likely enough ; I don't pretend to be in- 
 i'allible — I leave that to my juniors. But I 
 liappen to have known you, George, since | 
 \ou were the height of my old telescope, and 
 1 want to have this serious attachment of 
 yours put to the test. If you can satisfy me 
 that your whole heart and soul are as strongly 
 set on Miss Vanstone as you suppose them to ! 
 be, I must knock under to necessity, and keep 
 my objections to myself But I rnust be satis- 
 lied first. Go to the Grange to-morrow, and 
 stay there a week in Miss Brock's society, 
 (rive that charming girl a fair chance of light- 
 ing up the old flame again if she fan, and 
 I hen come back to St. Crux, and let me hear 
 t he result. If you tell me as an honest man 
 that your attachment to Miss Vanstone still 
 i-emains unshaken, you will have heard the 
 last of my objections from that moment. ; 
 Whatever misgivings I may feel in my own I 
 iuind, I will say nothing and do nothing ad- 
 verse to your wishes. There is my proposal. | 
 r dare say it looks like an old man's folly in | 
 your eyes. But the old man won't trouble 
 you much longer. George — and it may be a j 
 pleasant reflection, when you have got sons ; 
 of your own, to remember that you humored I 
 liim in his last days." 
 
 He came back to the fireplace as he said 
 I hose words, and laid his hand once more on j 
 Jiis nephew's shoulder. George took the hand j 
 and pressed it affectionately. In the tender- 1 
 est and best sense of the word 'his uncle had 
 been a father to him. 
 
 " I will do what you ask me, Sir," he re- 
 ])lied, "if you really wish it. But it is only 
 right to tell you that the experiment will be 
 perfectly useless. However, if you prefer my 
 uassing the week at the Grange to my passing 
 it here, to the Grange I will go." 
 
 "Thank you, George," said the admiral, 
 bluntly. " I expected as much from you, and 
 you have not disappointed me. If Miss Brock 
 .doesn't get us out of this mess," thought the 
 wily old gentleman as he resumed his place at 
 the table, " my nephew's weathercock of a 
 bead has turned steady with a vengeance ! 
 We '11 consider the question settled for to- 
 night, George," he continued aloud, " and call 
 another subject. These family anxieties don't 
 
 improve the flavor of my old claret. The 
 bottle stands with you. "What are they doing 
 at the theatres in London '? We always pat- 
 ronized the theatres in my time in the Navy. 
 We used to like a good tragedy to begin with, 
 and a hornpipe to cheer us up at the end of 
 the entertainment." 
 
 For the rest of the evening the talk flowed 
 in the ordinary channels. Admiral Bartram 
 only returned to the forbidden subject when 
 he and his nephew parted for the night. 
 *' You won't forget to-morrow, George." 
 " Certainly not. Sir. I '11 take the dog-cart 
 and drive myself over after breakfast." 
 
 Before noon the next day Mr. George Bar- 
 tram had left the house, and the last chance 
 in Magdalen's favor had left it with him. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ^Vhen the servants' dinner-bell at St. Crux 
 rang as usual on the day of George Bartram's 
 departure, it was remarked that the new par- 
 lor-maid's place at table remained empty. 
 One of the inferior servants was sent to her 
 room to make inquirie;s, and returned with 
 the information that " Louisa " felt a little 
 faint, and begged that her attendance at table 
 might be excused for that day. Upon this the 
 superior authority of the housekeeper was 
 invoked, and Mrs. . Drake went up stairs im- 
 fliediately to ascertain the truth for herself. 
 Her first look of inquiry satisfied her that the 
 parlor-maid's indisposition, whatever the cause 
 of it might be, was certainly not assumed to 
 serve any idle or sullen purpose of her own. 
 She respeetfitlly declined taking any of the 
 remedies which the housekeeper offered, and 
 merely requested permission to try the eflicacy 
 of a walk in the fresh air. 
 
 " I have been accustomed to more exercise, 
 ma'am, than I take here," she said. " Might 
 I go into the garden and try what the air will 
 do for me ?" 
 
 " Certainly. Can you walk by yourself V 
 or shall I send some one with you ?" 
 
 " I will go by myself if you please, ma'am." 
 
 " Very well. Put on your bonnet and 
 shawl, and when you get out keep in the east 
 garden. The admiral sometimes walks in the 
 north garden, and he might feel surprised at 
 [ seeing you there. Come to my room when 
 ! you have had air and exercise enough, and 
 I let me see how you are." 
 ! In a few minutes more Magd^en was out 
 I in the east garden. The sky was clear and 
 I sunny, but the cold shtidow of the house rest- 
 i ed on the garden-walk and chilled the mid- 
 ' day air. She walked toward the ruins of the 
 ! old monastery, situated on the south side of 
 I the more modern range of buildings. Here 
 j there were lonely open spaces to breathe in 
 I freely ; here the pale March sunshine stole 
 
NO NAilB, 
 
 24: 
 
 through the gaps of desolatiou and decay, and 
 met her invitingly with the genial promise of 
 spring. 
 
 She ascended three or four riven stone 
 steps, and seated herself on some ruined frag- 
 ments beyond them, full in tlje sunshine. The 
 place she had chosen had once been the en- 
 trance to the church. In centuries long gone 
 by the stream of human sin and human suffer- 
 ing had flowed, day after day, to the confes- 
 sional over the place where she now sat. Of 
 all the miserable women who had trodden 
 those old stones in the by-gone time, no more 
 miserable creature had touched them than the 
 woman whose feet rested on them now. 
 
 Her hands* trembled as she placed them on 
 either side of her to support herself on the 
 stone seat. She laid them on her lap — they 
 trembled there. She held them out, and 
 looked at them wonderingly — they trembled 
 as she looked. '' Like an old woman I" she 
 said, faintly, and let them drop again at her 
 side. 
 
 For the first time that morning the cruel 
 discovery had forced itself on her mind — the' 
 discovery that her strength was failing her at 
 the time when she had most confidently trust- 
 ed to it* at the time when she wanted it most. 
 She had felt the surprise of Mr. Bartram's 
 unexpected departure as if it had been the 
 shock of the severest calamity that could have 
 befallen her. That one check to her hopes — 
 a check which at other times would only have 
 roused the resisting power in her to new ef- 
 forts — had struck her with as suflbcating a 
 terror, had prostrated her with as all-master- 
 ing a despair, as if she had been overwhelmed 
 by the crowning disaster of expulsion from 
 St, Crux. But one warning could be read in 
 such a change as this. Into the space of little 
 more tlian a year she had crowded the wear- 
 ing and wasting emotions of a life. The 
 bountiful gifts of health and stre-ngth, so prod- 
 igally lieaped on her by Nature, so long 
 ruiused with impunitv, were failing her at 
 last. 
 
 She looked up at the far faint blue of the 
 sky. She heard the joyous singing of birds 
 among the ivy that clothed the ruirfs. Oh, the 
 cold distance of the heavens ! Oh, the pitiless 
 hapjuncssof the bii-dsl Oh, the lonely horror 
 of sitting there, and feeling old and weak and 
 worn in tiie heyday of her youth ! She rose 
 with a last eflprt of resolution, and tried to 
 keep back tht' hysterical passion swelling at 
 her heart by moving and looking abqut her. 
 Rapidly and more vapidly she walked to and 
 fro in the sunshine. The exercise helped her 
 through the very fatigue that she felt from it. 
 She forced the rising tears desperately back 
 to their sources — she fought with the dinging 
 pain, and wrenched it from its hold. Little 
 by little her mind began to clear again ; the 
 despairing fear of herself grow less vividly 
 present to her thoughts. There were reserves 
 of vonth and stnMigth in her still to be wasted 
 
 — there was a spirit, sorely wounded, but not 
 yet subdued. 
 
 She gradually extended the limits 6f her 
 walk; she gradually recovered the exercise of 
 her observation. 
 
 At the western extremity the remains of 
 the monastery were in a less ruinous condi- 
 tion than at the eastern. In certain place>, 
 where the stout old walls still stood, repairs 
 had been made at some former time. Kools 
 of red tile had been laid roughly over four of 
 the ancient cells; wooden doors had boeu 
 added ; and the old monastic chambers had 
 been used as sheds to hold the multifarious 
 lumber of St. CrUx. No padlocks guardfd 
 any of the doors. Magdalen had only to push 
 them to let the daylight in on the litter inside. 
 She resolved to investigate the sheds one after 
 the other — not from curiosity, not with the 
 idea of making discoveries of any sort. IL-r 
 only object was to fill up the vacant time, an<l 
 to keep the thoughts that unnerved her from 
 returning to her mind. 
 
 The first fehed she opened contained tho 
 gardener's utensils, large and small. Tin- 
 second was Jittered with fragments of broken 
 fui'uiture, empty picture-frames of worm-eaten 
 wood, shattered vases, boxes without covei-, 
 and books torn from their bindings. As Mag- 
 dalen turned to leave the shed, afler one 
 careless glance round her at the lumber thar 
 it contained, her foot struck something on the 
 ground which tinkled against a fragment ol' 
 china lying near it. She stooped, and dis- 
 covered that the tinkling substance was :: 
 rusty key. 
 
 She picked up the .key and looked at it. 
 She walked out into the air and considered a 
 little. More old forgotten keys were probably 
 lying about among the lumber in the sheds.. 
 What if she collected all she could find, and 
 tried them, one after another, in the locks oT 
 the cabinets and cupboards now closed againsi 
 her ? Was there chance enough tiiat any out- 
 of them might fit to justify her in venturing o)i 
 the experiment? If the locks at St. Crux 
 were as old-fashioned as the furniture — il 
 there were no protective niceties of modern 
 invention to contend against — there was 
 chance enough beyond all question. Who 
 could say whether the very key in her hami 
 might not be the lost duplicate of one of the 
 keys on the admiral's bunch ? In the dearth 
 of all other means of finding the way to her 
 end the risk was worth running. A flash ot 
 thp old spirit sparkled in her weary eyes it- 
 she turned and re-entered the shed. 
 
 Half an hour more brought her to tin- 
 limits of the time which she could venture to 
 allow hei-seff in the open air. In that inter- 
 val she had searched the sheds from first to 
 last, and had found five more keys. " Fivr 
 more chances !" she thought to herself, a.s 
 she hid the keys aijd hastily returned to the 
 house. * 
 
 After first reporting herself in the house- 
 
us 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 keeper's room, she went up stairs to remove 
 her bonnet and shawl, taking that opportunity 
 to hide the keys in her bedchamber until 
 night came. They were crusted thick with 
 rust and dirt ; but she dared not attempt to 
 clean them until bedtime secluded her from 
 the prying eyes of the servants in the solitude 
 of her room. 
 
 AVhen the dinner - hour brought her, as 
 usual, into personal contact with the admiral, 
 she was at once struck by a change in him. 
 For the first time in her experience the old 
 gentleman was silent and depressed. He ate 
 fels than usual, and he hardly said five words 
 to her from the beginning of the meal to the 
 end. Some unwelcome subject of reflection 
 had evidently fixed itself on his mind, and 
 remained there persistently in spite of his 
 eflbrts to shake it off. At intervals through 
 the evening she wondered with an evergrow- 
 ing perplexity what the subject could be. 
 
 At last the lagging hours reached their 
 end, and bedtime came. Before she slept that 
 night Magdalen had cleaned the keys from 
 all impurities, and had oiled the wards to help 
 them smoothly into the locks. The last diffi- 
 culty that remained was the difficulty of choos- 
 ing the time when the experiment might be 
 tried with the least risk of interruption and 
 discovery. After carefully considering the 
 question overnight, Magdalen could only re- 
 solve to wait and be guided by the events of 
 the next day. The morning came, and for 
 the first time at St. Crux events justified the 
 trust she had placed in them. The morning 
 came, and the one remaining difficulty that 
 perplexed her was unexpectedly smoothed 
 away by no less a person than the admiral 
 himself! To the surprise of every one in the 
 house, he announced at breakfast that he had 
 arranged to start for London in an hour ; that 
 he should pass the night in town ; and that he 
 might be expected to return to St. Crux in 
 time for dinner on the next day. He volun- 
 teered no further explanations to the housfe- 
 keeper or to any one else ; but it was easy to 
 see that his errand to London was of no or- 
 dinar\- importance in his own estimation. He 
 swallowed liis breakfast in a violent hurry, 
 and he was impatiently ready for the carriage 
 before it came to the door. 
 
 Experience had taught Magdalen to be cau- 
 tious. She waited a little after Admiral Bar- 
 tram's departure before she ventured on trying 
 her experiment with the keys. It was well 
 she did so. Mrs. Drake took advantage of the 
 admiral's absence to review the condition of 
 the apartments on the first floor. The results 
 of the investigation by no means satisfied her ; 
 brooms and dusters were set to work, and the 
 housemaids were in and out of the rooms per- 
 petually as long as the daylight lasted. 
 
 The evening passed, and still the safe op- 
 portunity for which Magdalen was on the 
 watch never presented its'elf. Bedtime came 
 again, and found her placed between the two 
 
 alternatives of trusting to the doubtful chances 
 of the next morning or of trying the keys 
 boldly in the dead of night. In former times 
 she would have made her choice without hesi- 
 tation. She hesitated now ; but the wreck of 
 her old courage still sustained her, and she 
 determined to make the venture at night. 
 
 They kept early hours at St. Crux. If she 
 waited in her room until half-past eleven she 
 would wait long enough. At that time she 
 stole out on the staircase, with the keys in her 
 pocket and the candle in her hand. 
 
 On passing the entrance to the corridor on 
 the bedroom floor she stopped and listened. 
 No sound of snoring, no shuffling of infirm 
 footsteps, was to be heard on the other side of 
 the screen. She looked round it distrustfully. 
 The stone passage was a solitude, and the 
 truckle-bed was empty. Her own eyes had 
 shown her old Mazey on his way to the upper 
 regions more than an hour since with a candle 
 in his hand. Had he taken advantage of his 
 master's absence to enjoy the unaccustomed 
 luxury of sleeping in a room ? As the thought 
 occurred to her a sound from the farther end 
 of the corridor just caught her ear. She 
 softly advanced toward it, and heard through 
 the door of the last and remotest of the spare, 
 bedchambers the Teterau's lusty snoring in the 
 room inside. The discovery was startling in' 
 more senses than one. It deepened the im- 
 penetrable mystery of the truckle-bed, for it 
 showed plainly that old Mazey had no bar- 
 barous preference of hi« own for passing his 
 nights ^n the corridor — he occupied that 
 strange and comfortless sleeping-place purely 
 and entirely on his master's account. 
 
 It was no time for dwelling on the reflec- 
 tions which this conc-lusion might suggest. 
 Magdalen retraced her steps along the pas- 
 sage, and descended to the first floor. Pass- 
 ing the doors nearest to her, she tried the 
 library first. On the staircase and in the cor- 
 ridors she had felt her heart thi-obbing fast 
 with an unutterable fear ; but a sense of secu- 
 rity returned to her when she found herself 
 within the lour walls of the room, and when. 
 she had closed the door on the ghostly quiet 
 outside. * 
 
 The first lock she tried was the lock of the 
 table - drawer. None of the key.s fitted it. 
 Her next experiment was made on the cabi- 
 net. Would the second attempt fail like the 
 first ? No I One of the keys fitted ; one of 
 the keys, with a little patient *nanagement, 
 turned the lock. She looked in eagerly. 
 There were open shelves above, and one long 
 drawer under them. The, shelves were de- 
 voted to specimens of curious minerals, neatly 
 labelled and arranged. The drawer was di- 
 vided into compartments. Two of the com- 
 partments contained papers. In the first she 
 discovered nothing but a collection of receipt- 
 ed bills. In the second she found a heap of 
 business-documents — but the writing, yellow 
 with age, was enough of itself to warn her that 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 249 
 
 the Trust was not there. She shut the doors 
 of the cabinet ; and, after locking them again 
 •with some little difficulty, proceeded to try the 
 keys in the bookcase cupboards next, before 
 *she continued her investigations in the other 
 rooms. 
 
 The bookcase cupboards were unassailable; 
 the drawers and cupboards in all the oth^er 
 rooms were unassailable. One after another 
 tihe tried them patiently in regular succession. 
 It was useless. The chance which the cabi- 
 net in the library had offered in her favor was 
 the first chance and the last. 
 
 She went b&ck to her room, seeing nothing 
 but her own gliding shadow, hearing nothing 
 but her own stealthy footfall in the midnight 
 stillness of the house. After mechanically 
 putting the keys away in their former hiding- 
 place she looked toward her bed — and turned 
 away from it shuddering. The warning re- 
 membrance of what she had suffered that 
 morning in the garden was vividly present 
 to her mind. "Another chance trfed," she 
 thought to herself, " and another chance lost! 
 I shall break down again if I think of it, and 
 I shall think of it if I l^e awake in the dark." 
 She had brought a work -box with her to St. 
 Crux, as One of the many little things which, 
 in her character of a servant, it was desirable 
 to possess ; and she now opened the box and 
 applied herself resolutely to work. Her want 
 of dexterity with her needle assisted the ob- 
 ject she had in view : it obliged her to pay the 
 closest attention to her employment; it forced 
 her thoughts away from the two subjects of all 
 others which she now dreaded most — herself 
 and the future. 
 
 The next day, as he had arranged, the ad- 
 miral returned. His visit to London had not 
 improved his spirits. The shadow of some 
 unconquerable doubt still clouded his face, 
 and his restless tongue was strangely quiet 
 while Magdalen waited on him at his solitary 
 meal. That night the snoring resounded once 
 more on the inner side of the screen, and old 
 Mazey was back again in the comfortless 
 truckle-bed. 
 
 Three more days passed — April came. On 
 the second of the month — returning as unex- 
 pectedly as he had departed a week before — 
 Mr. George Bartram reappeared at St. Crux. 
 
 He came back early in the afternoon, and 
 had an interview with his uncle in the library. 
 The interview over, he left the house again, 
 and was driven to the railway by the groom 
 in time to catch the last train to London that 
 night. The groom noticed on the road that 
 " Mr. George seemed to be rather pleased 
 than otherwise at leaving St. Cruic." He 
 also remarked, on his return, that the admiral 
 swore at him for overdriving the horses — an 
 indication of ill-temper on the part of his mas- 
 ter which he described as being entirely with- 
 out precedent in all his former experience. 
 Magdalen, in her department of service, had 
 suffered in like manner under the old man's 
 32 
 
 irritable humor r he had been dissatisfied with 
 everything she did in the dining-room ; and 
 he had found fault with all the dishes, one 
 atlter another, from the yiutton broth to the 
 toasted cheese. 
 
 The next two days passed as usual. On 
 the third day an event happened. In appear- 
 ance, it was nothing more important than a 
 ring at the drawing-room bell. In reality, it 
 was the forerunner of approac^hing catastrophe 
 — the formidable herald of the end.- 
 
 It was Magdalen's business to answer the 
 bell. On reaching the drawing-room door 
 she knocked as usual. There was no reply. 
 After again* knocking, and again receiving no 
 answer, she ventured into the room, and was 
 instantly met by a current of cold air flowing 
 full on her face. The heavy sliding-door in 
 the opposite wall was pushed back, and the 
 Arctic atmosjihere of Freeze-your-Bones was 
 pouring unhindered into the empty room. 
 . She waited near the door, doubtful what to 
 do next; it was certainly the drawing-room 
 bell that had rung, and no other. She wait- 
 ed, looking through the open door-way oppo- 
 site, down the wilderness of the dismantled 
 hall. 
 
 A little consideration satisfied her that it 
 would be best to go down stairs again, and 
 wait there for a second summons from the bell. 
 On turning to leave the room she happened 
 to look back once more, and exactly at that 
 moment she saw the door open at the opposite 
 extremity of the Banqueting-hall — the door 
 leading into-the first of the apartments in the 
 east wing. A tall man came out, wearing his 
 great-coat and his hat, and raj)idly approach- 
 ed the drawing-room. His gait betrayed him 
 while he was still too far off for his features to 
 be seen. Before he was half-way across the 
 hall, Magdalen had recognized — Admiral 
 Bai'tram. 
 
 The admiral looked, not irritated only, 
 but surprised as well, ai finding his parlor- 
 maid waiting for him in the drawing-room. 
 He inquired, sharply and suspiciously, what 
 she wanted there ? Magdalen replied that 
 she had come there to answer the bell. His 
 face cleared a little when he heard the ex- 
 planation. " Yes, yes ; to be sure," he said. 
 " I did ring, and then I forgot it." He pulled 
 the sliding-door back into its place as he 
 spoke. " Coals," he resumed, impatiently, 
 pointing to the empty scuttle.* " I rang for 
 coali." 
 
 Magdalen went back to the kitchen re- 
 gions. After communicating the admiral's 
 order to the servant whose special duty it was 
 'to attend to the fires, she returned to the 
 pantry, and, gently closing the door, sat down 
 alone to think. 
 
 It had been her impression in the drawing- 
 room — and it was her impression still — that 
 she had accidentally surprised Admiral bar- 
 tram on a visit to 'the east rooms, which, for 
 some urgent reason of his own, he wished to 
 
250 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 keep a secret. Haunted day and night by 
 the one dominant idea that now possessed 
 her, she leaped all logical difficulties at a 
 bound, and at once associated the suspicion 
 of a secret proceeding on the admiral's part 
 ■with the kindred suspicion which pointed to 
 him as the depositary of the Secret Trust. 
 Up to this time it had been her settled belief 
 that he kept all his important documents in 
 one or other of the suit of rooms which he 
 happened to be occupying for the timer being. 
 Why — she now asked herself, with a sudden 
 distrust of the conclusion which had hitherto 
 satisfied her mind — -why might he not lock 
 some of them up in the other rooms as well V 
 The remembrance of the keys, still concealed 
 in their hiding-place in her room, sharpened 
 her sense of the reasonableness of this new, 
 view. With one unimportant exception, those 
 keys had all failed when she tried them in 
 the rooms on the north side of the house. 
 Might they not succeed with the cabinets and 
 cupboards in the east rooms, on which she 
 had never tried or thought of trying them 
 yet ? If there was a ehance^ however small, 
 of turning them to better accotint than she had 
 turned them thus far, it was a chance to be 
 tried. If there was a possibility, however 
 remote, that the Trust might be hidden in 
 any one of the locked repositoi'ies in the east 
 wins, it was a possibility to be put to the test. 
 I When V Her own experience answered the 
 question. At the the time when no prying 
 eyes were open, and no accidents were to be 
 feared — when the house was quiet — in the 
 dead of night. 
 
 She knew enough of her changed self to 
 dread the enervating influence of delay. She 
 determined to run the risk, headlong, that 
 night. 
 
 More blunders escaped her when dinner-time 
 came ; the admiral's criticisms on her waiting 
 at table were sharper than ever. His hardest 
 words inflicted no pain on her ; she scarcely 
 heard him — her mind was dull to every sense 
 but the sense of the coming trial. The even- 
 ing, which had passed slowly to her on the 
 nicht of her first experiment with the keys, 
 passed quickly now. When bedtime came, 
 bedtime took her by surprise. 
 
 She waited longer on this occasiou than 
 she had waited before. The admiral was at 
 home ; he might alter his mind, and go down 
 stairs again after he had gone up to his room ; 
 he might have forgotten something in the 
 library, and might return to fetch it. Mid- 
 night struck from the clock in the servants' 
 hall before she ventured out of her room, 
 •with the keys again in her pocket, with the 
 candle again in her hand. 
 
 At the first of the stairs on which she set 
 her foot to descend, an all-mastering hesita- 
 tion, an unintelligible shrinking from some 
 perii unknown, seized her on a sudden. She 
 waited and reasoned with herself. She had 
 recoiled from no sacrifices, she had yielded to 
 
 no fears, in carrying out the stratagem by 
 which she had gained admission to St. Crux ; 
 and now, when the long' array of difiiculties 
 at the outset had been patiently conquered — 
 now, when by sheer force of resolution the 
 starting-point was gained, she hesitated to 
 advance. ' " I shrank from nothing to get' 
 here," she said to herself. " What madness 
 possesses me that I shrink now ?" 
 
 Every pulse in her quickened at the 
 thought, with an animating shame that nerved 
 her to go on. She descended the stairs, from 
 the third floor to the second, from the second 
 to the first, without trusting herself to pause 
 again within easy reach of her own room. 
 In another minute she had reached the end 
 of the corridor, had crossed the vestibule, 
 and had entered the drawing-room. It was 
 only when her grasp was on the heavy brass 
 handle of the sliding-door — it was only at 
 the moment before she pushed the door back — 
 that she waited to take breath. The Ban- 
 queting-hall was close on the 'other side of 
 the wooden partition against which she stood: 
 her excited imagination felt the deathlike 
 chill of it flowing over her already. 
 
 She pushed back the sliding-door a few 
 Inches, and stopped in momenta»y alarm. 
 When the admiral had closed it in her pres- 
 ence that day she had heard no noise. When 
 old Mazey had opened it to show her the 
 rooms in the east wing she had heard no 
 noise. Now, in the night silence, she noticed 
 for the first time that the door made a sound — 
 a dull, rushing sound, like the wind. 
 
 She roused herself and pushed it further 
 back — pushed it half-way into the hollow 
 chamber in the wall constructed to receive it. 
 She advanced boldly into the gap, and met 
 the night-view of the Banqueting-hall face 
 to face. 
 
 The moon was rounding the southern aide 
 of the house. Her paling beams sfreamed 
 through the nearer windows, and lay in long 
 strips of slanting light on the marble pave-, 
 ment of the hall. The black shadows of the' 
 pediments between each window, alternating 
 with the strips of light, heightened the wan 
 glare of the moonshine on the stone floor. 
 Toward its lower end the hall melted myste- 
 riously into darkness ; the ceiling was lost to 
 view ; the yawning fireplace, the overhang- 
 ing mantle-piece, the long row of battle-pic- 
 tures above, were all swallowed up in night. 
 But one visible object was discernible besides 
 the gleaming windows and the moon-striped 
 floor. Midway in the last and farthest of the 
 strips of light the tripod rose erect on its 
 gaunt black legs, like- a monster called to life 
 by the moon — a monster rising through the 
 light, and melting invisibly into the upper 
 shadows of the hall. Ear and near all sound 
 lay dead, drowned in the stagnant cold. The 
 soothing hush of night was awful here. The, 
 deep abysses of darkness hid abysses of si- 
 lence more immeasurable still. 
 
 J>^/ 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 251 
 
 Slie stood motionless in the door-way, with 
 strainintr eyes, with straininj? ears. She 
 looked for some moving thing, she listened for 
 some rising sound — and looked and listened 
 in vain, 'a quick, ceaseless shivering ran 
 througli her from head to foot. The shivering 
 of fear ? or the shivering of cold ? The bare 
 doubt roused her resolute will. "Now," she 
 thought, advancing a step through the door- 
 way — "or never! I 'II count the strips of 
 moonli'rht three times over, and cross the 
 hall." ^ 
 
 " One, two, three, fqur, five. One, two, 
 three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five." 
 As the final number passed her lips, at the 
 third time of counling, she crossed the hall. 
 Looking for nothing, tistening for nothing — 
 one. hand holding the candle, the other me- 
 chanically grasping the folds of her dress — 
 she sped ghostlike down the length of the 
 ghostly place. She reached the door of the 
 first of the eastern rooms, opened it, and ran 
 in. The sudden relief of reaching a refuge, 
 the sudden entrance into a new atmosphere, 
 overpowered her for the moment. She had 
 just time to put the candle safely on a table 
 before she droi)ped giddy and breathless into 
 the nearest chair. 
 
 Little b>' little she felt the rest quieting 
 her. In a few minutes she became conscious 
 of the triumph of having won 'her way to the 
 east rooms. In a few minutes she was strong 
 enough to rise from the chair, to take the keys 
 from her pocket, and to look round her. | 
 
 The first objects of furniture in the room 
 which attracted her attention were an old 
 bureau of carved oak and a heavy buhl table 
 with a cabinet attached. She tried the bureau 
 first; it looked the likeliest receptacle for pa- 
 pers of the, two. Three of the keys proved 
 to be of a size to enter the lock, but none of 
 them would turn it. The bureau was unas- 
 sailable. She left it, and paused for a moment 
 to trim the wick of the candle before she tried 
 the buhl cabinet next. 
 
 At the moment when she raised her hand 
 to the candle she heard the stillness of the 
 Banqueting-liall -shudder with the terror of a 
 sound — a sound faint and momentary, like the 
 distant rushin^ of the wind. 
 
 Had the sliding-door in the drawing-room 
 moved ? 
 
 Which way had it move<l ? Had an un- 
 known hand pushed it back in its socket 
 farther than she had pushed it, or pulled it to 
 again and clos<.'d it? The horror of being 
 shut out all night by some undiseoverable 
 agency from the life of the house was stronger 
 in her than the horror of looking across the 
 Banqueting-hall. She made desperately for 
 the door of the room. 
 
 It had fallen to silently after her when she 
 had come in, but it was not closed. She 
 pulled it open — and looked. 
 
 The sight that met her eyes rooted her, 
 panic-stricken, to the spot. 
 
 Close to the first of tBe row of windows, 
 counting from the drawing-room, and full in 
 the gleam of it, she saw a solitary figure. It 
 stood motionless, rising out of the farthest 
 strip of moonlight on the floor. As she looked 
 it suddenly disappeared. In another instant 
 she saw it again, in the second strip of moon- 
 light — lost it again — saw it in the third 
 strip — lost it once more — and saw it in the 
 fourth. Moment by moment it advanced, now 
 mysteriously lost in the shadow, now suddenly 
 visible ^again in the light, until it reached the 
 fifth and nearest strip of moonlight. There 
 it paused, and strayed aside slowly to the 
 middle of the hall. It stopped at the tripod, 
 and stood shivering audibly in the silence, 
 with its hands raised over the dead ashes, in 
 the action of warming them at a fire. It 
 turned back again, moving down the path of 
 the moonlight — stopped at the fifth windows- 
 turned once more — and came on softly 
 through the shadow, straight to the place 
 where [Magdalen stood. 
 
 Her voice was dumb ; her will was help- 
 less. Every sense in her but the seeing-sense 
 was paralyzed. The seeing-sense — held fast 
 in the fetters of its own terror — looked un? 
 changeably straightforward, as it had looked 
 from the first. There she stood in the door- 
 way, full in the path of the figure advancing 
 through the shadow, nearer and nearer, step 
 by step. 
 
 It came close. 
 
 The bonds of horror that held her burst 
 asunder when it was within arm's-length. She 
 started back. The light of the candle on the 
 table fell full on its face, and showed her — 
 Admiral Bartram. 
 
 A lonof gray dressing - gown was wrapped 
 round hmi. His head was uncovered; his 
 feet were bare. In his left hand he carried 
 his little basket of keys. He passed Magda- 
 len slowly ; his lips whispering without inter- 
 mission ; his open eyes staring straight before 
 him with the glassy stare of death. , His eyes 
 revealed to her the terrifying truth. He wai 
 walking in his sleep. 
 
 The terror of seeing him as she saw him 
 now was not the terror she had felt when her 
 eyes first lighted on him — ^an apparition in 
 the moonlig'ht, a spectre in the ghostly hall. 
 This time she could struggle against the 
 shock ; she could feel the depth of her own 
 fear. 
 
 He passed her, and stopped in the middle of 
 the room. Magdalen ventured near enough 
 to him to be within reach of his voice as he 
 muttered to himself She ventured nearer 
 still, and heard the name of her dead husb^d 
 fall distinctly from the sleep-wallSer's lips. 
 
 " Noel !" he said, in the low, monotonous 
 tones of a dreamer talking in his sleep. " Mj 
 good fellow, Noel, take it back again ! It wor- 
 ries me day and night. I don't know where 
 it 's safe; I don't know where to put it. Take 
 it back Noel — take it back !" 
 
252 
 
 NO NAIVIE. 
 
 As those words escaped bim he walked to 
 the buhl cabinet. He sat down in the chair 
 placed before it, and searched in the basket 
 among his keys. Magdalen softly followed" 
 him and stoork behind his chair, waiting, with 
 the candle in her hand. He found the key 
 and unlocked the cabinet. Without an in- 
 stant's hesitation he drew out a drawer, the 
 second of a row. The one thing In the drawer 
 was a folded letter. He removed it, and put 
 It down before him on the table. " Take It 
 back, Noel ! " he repeated, mechanically ; 
 " take it back." * 
 
 Magdalen looked over his shoulder and read 
 these lines, traced In her husband's handwrit- 
 ing, at the top of the letter: 2b be kept in 
 your own possession, and to he opened hy your- 
 self only on the day of my decease. Noel 
 Vanstone. She saw the words plainly, with 
 thp admiral's name and the admiral's, address 
 written under tliem. 
 
 The Trust within reach of her hand 1 The 
 Trust traced to its hiding-place at last ! 
 
 She took one step forward to steal round 
 his chair, and to snatch the letter from the 
 table. At the instant when she moved he 
 took it up once more, locked the cabinet, and, 
 rising, turned and faced her. 
 
 In the Impulse of the moment she stretched 
 out her hand toward the hand in which he 
 held the letter. The yellow candle-light fell 
 full on him. The awful death-in-llfe of his 
 ftice — the mystery of the sleeping body mov- 
 ing in unconscious obedience to the dreaming 
 mind — daunted her. 'Her hand trembled, 
 and dropped again at her side. 
 
 He dropped the key of the cabinet into the 
 basket, and crossed the room to the bureau, 
 with the basket in one hand and the letter in 
 the other. Magdalen put the candle back on 
 the table and watched him. As he had open- 
 ed the cabinet, so he now opened the bureau. 
 Once more Magdalen stretched out her hand, 
 and once more she recoiled before the mystery 
 and the terror of his sleep. He put the letter 
 in a drawer at the back of the bureau, and 
 closed the heavy oaken lid again. " Yes," he 
 said. " Safer there, as you say, Noel — safer 
 there." So he spoke. So, time after time, 
 the words that betrayed him revealed the 
 dead man living and speaking again in the 
 dream. 
 
 Had he locked the bureau? Magdalen had 
 not heard the lock turn. As he slowly moved 
 away, walking back once more toward the 
 middle of the room, she tried the lid. It was 
 locked. That discovery made, she looked to 
 see what he was doing next. He was leaving 
 the room again, with his basket of keys in his 
 hand. When her first glance overtook him 
 he was crossing the threshold of the door. 
 
 Some inscrutable fascination possessed her; 
 some mysterious attraction drew her after him 
 in spite of herself. She took up the candle 
 and followed him mechanically, as if she too 
 were walking in her sleep. One behind the 
 
 other, in slow and noiseless progress, they 
 crossed the Banqueting' hall. One behind 
 the other they passed through the drawing- 
 room, and along the corridor, and up the 
 stall's. She followed him to his own door. He 
 went in and shut it behind him softly. She 
 stopped and looked toward the truckle-bed. 
 It was pushed aside at the foot, some little 
 distance away from the bedroom door. Who 
 had moved it ? She held the candle close, 
 and looked toward the pillow with a sudden 
 curiosity and a sudden doubt. 
 
 The truckle-bed was empty. 
 
 The discovery stai'tled Hlier for the moment, 
 and for the moment only. Plain as the in- 
 ferences were to be drawn from it, she never 
 drew them. Her mind, slowly recovering the 
 exercise of its faculties, was still under the 
 influence of the earlier and deeper impres- 
 sions produced on it. Her mind followed the 
 admiral into his room, as her body had follow- 
 ed him across tlie Banqueting-hall. 
 
 Had he laid down again in his bed ? Was 
 he still asleep ? She listened .at the door. 
 Not a sound was audible in the room. She 
 tried the door, and,- finding it not locked, 
 softly opened it a few inches, and listened 
 again. The rise and fall of his low, regular 
 breathing instantly caught her ear. He was 
 still asleep. 
 
 She went into the room, and, shading the 
 candle-light with her hand, approached the 
 bedside to look at him. The dream was past; 
 the old man's sleep was deep and peaceful ; 
 his lips were still ; his c^ulet hand was laid 
 over the coverlet in motionless repose. He 
 lay with his face turned toward the riglit- 
 hand side of the bed. A little table stood 
 there within reach of his hand. Four objects 
 were placed on it — his candle, his matches, 
 his customary night-drink of lemonade, and 
 his basket of keys. 
 
 The idea of possessing herself of his keys 
 that night (if an opportunity offered when 
 the basket was not in his hand) had first 
 crossed her mind when she saw him go Into 
 his room. She had lost it again, for the \\\o- 
 ment, in the surprise of discovering the empty 
 truckle-bed. She now recovered It the in- 
 stant the table attracted her attention. It 
 was useless to waste time in trying to choose 
 the one key wanted from the rest — the one 
 key was not well enough known to her to be 
 readily identified. She took all the keys 
 from the table, in the basket as they lay, and 
 noiselessly closed the door behind her on leav- 
 ing the room. 
 
 The truckle-bed, as she passed it, obtruded 
 Itself again on her attention, and forced her 
 to think of it. After a moment's consider- 
 ation she moved the foot of the bed back to 
 its customary position across the door. Wheth- 
 er he was Iq the house or out of it, the veter- 
 an might return to his deserted post at any 
 moment. If he saw the bed moved' from its 
 usual place, he might suspect something 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 253 
 
 wrong — he might rouse his master — and 
 the loss of the keys might be discovered. As 
 she descended the stairs the fear of a sudden 
 meeting with old Mazey was so vividly pres- 
 ent to her that she carried the little basket 
 close at her side, half-hidden in the folds of 
 her dress. 
 
 Nothing happened on the stairs; nothing 
 happened in the corridor — the house was as 
 silent and as solitary as ever. She crossed 
 the Banqueting-hall this time without hesita- 
 tion ; tlie events of the night had hardened 
 her mind against all imaginary terrors. " Now 
 I have got it!" she whispered to* herself, in 
 an irrepressible outburst of exultation as she 
 entered the first of the east rocuns, and put 
 her caudle on the top of the old bureau. 
 
 Even yet there was a trial tn store for her 
 patience. Some minutes elapsed, minutes 
 that seemckl hours, before «he found the right 
 key and raised the lid of the bureau. At 
 last she drew out the inner drawer ! At last 
 she had the letter in her hand ! 
 
 It had been sealed, but the seal was broken. 
 She opened it on the spot to make sure that 
 she had actually jjossessed herself of the 
 Trust before leaving the room. The end of 
 thjg letter was the first part of it she turned 
 to'.' It came to its conclusion high on the 
 third page, and it was signed by Noel Van- 
 stone. Below the name these lines were add- 
 ed in tlie admiral's handwriting : 
 
 " This letter was received by me, at the 
 same time with the will of my friend, Noel 
 Vanslone. In tlie event of my death, with- 
 out leaviftg any other directions respecting it, 
 I beg my nephew and my executors to under- 
 stand that I consider the requests made in 
 this document as absolutely binding on me. 
 
 " AUTIIUII EVERARD BaRTRAM." 
 
 She left those lines unread. She just no- 
 ticed that they were not in Noel Vanstone's 
 handwriting ; and, p;issing them over instant- 
 ly, as immaterial to the object in view, turned 
 the leaves of the letter, and transferred her 
 attention to the opening sentences on the first 
 page. 
 
 She read these words : 
 
 "Dkar Admiral Bartram — When you 
 open my Will (in which you are named my 
 sole executor), you will find that 1 have be- 
 queathed the wliole residue of my estate — 
 after payment of one legacy of five tiiousand 
 pountis — to yourself. It is the purpose of my 
 letter to tell you privately what the object is 
 for which I have left you the fortune which is 
 npw placed in your hands. 
 
 " I beg you to consider this large legacy as 
 intended — " 
 
 She had proceeded thus far, with breath- 
 less curiosity and interest, when her attention 
 suddenly failed her. Something — she was too 
 deeply absorbed to know what — had got be- 
 tween her and the letter. Was it a sound in 
 
 the Banqueting-hall again? She looked over 
 her shoulder at the door behind her, and lis- 
 tened. Nothing was to be heard — nothing 
 was to be seen. She returned to the letter. 
 
 The writing was cramped and close. In 
 her impatient curiosity to read more, she failed 
 to find the lost place again. Her eyes, at- 
 tracted by a blot, lighted on a sentence, lower 
 in the page than the sentence at which she 
 Iiad left oft". The first three words she saw 
 riveted her attention anew — they were the 
 first words she had met with in the letter 
 which directly referred to Geopge Bartram. 
 In the sudden excitement of that vliscovery 
 she read the rest of the sentence eagerly be- 
 fore she made any second attempt to return 
 to the lost place : 
 
 " If your nephew'' fails to comply with these 
 conditions — that is to say, if, being either a 
 bachelor or a widower at the time of my de- 
 cease, he fails to marry in all respects as I 
 have here instructed him to marry, within Six 
 calendar months from that time — it is my de- 
 sire that he shall not receive — " 
 
 She had read to that point, to that last woi-d, 
 a-'d no farther — when a Hand passed sudden- 
 ly from behind her, between the letter and her 
 eye, and griped )ier fast by the wrist in an 
 instant. 
 
 She turned with a shriek of terror, and 
 found herself face to face with old Mazey. 
 
 The veteran's eyes were bloodshot; his 
 hand was heavy; his list slippers were twisted 
 crookedly on his feet ; and his body swayed to 
 and fro ou his widely-parted legs. If he had 
 tested his condition that night by the unfail- 
 ing criterion of the model ship, he must have 
 inevitably pronounced sentence on himself ia 
 the usual ibrm : " Drunk again, Mazey — 
 drunk again." 
 
 " You young Jezebel !" said the old sailor, 
 Avith a leer on one side of his face, and a frown 
 on the other. " The next time you take to 
 night-walking in the neighborhood of Freeze- 
 your-Bones use those sharp eyes of yours first, 
 and make sure there is nobody else night- 
 walking in the garden outside. Drop it, Jez- 
 ebel ! drop it !" 
 
 Keeping fast hold of Magdalen's arm with 
 one hand, he took the letter from her with the 
 other, put it back into the open drawer, and 
 locked the bureau. She never struggled with 
 him, she never spoke. Her energy was gone ; 
 her powers of resistance were crushed. The 
 terrors of that horrible night, following one 
 close on the other in reiterated shocks, had 
 struck her down at last. She yielded as sub- 
 missively, she trembled as helplessly, as the 
 weakest woman living. 
 
 Old Mazey dropped her arm, and pointed 
 with drunken solemnity to a chair in an inner 
 corner of the room. She sat down, still with- 
 out uttering a word. The veteran (breathing 
 very hard over it, steadied himself on both 
 
254 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 ■ elbows against the slanting top of the bureau, 
 and from that commanding position addressed 
 Magdalen once more. 
 
 " Come and be locked up !" said old Mazey, 
 wagging his venerable head with judicial se- 
 verity. " There '11 be a court of inquiry to- 
 morrow morning; and I 'm witness — worse 
 luck ! — I 'm witness. You young jade, you 've 
 committed burglary — that 's what you 've 
 done. His honor the admiral's keys stolen ; 
 his honor the admiral's desk ransacked ; and 
 his honor the admiral's private letters broke 
 open. _ Burglary! Burglary! Come and be 
 locked up !" He slowly recovered an up- 
 right position with the assistance of his hands, 
 backed by the solid resisting power of the 
 bureau, and lapsed into lachrymose soliloquy. 
 " Who 'd have thought it ?" said old Mazey, 
 paternally watering at the eyes. . " Take the 
 outside of her, and she 's as straight as a pop- 
 lar ; take the inside of her, and she 's as 
 crooked as Sin. Such a fine grown girl, too. 
 What a pity ! what a pity !" 
 
 " Don't hurt me !" said Magdalen faintly, 
 as old Mazey staggered up to the chair and 
 took her by the wrist again. " I 'm fright- 
 ened, Mr. Mazey — I 'm dreadfullv fright- 
 ened." 
 
 " Hurt you ?" repeated the veteran. '' I 'm 
 a deal too fond of you — and more shame for 
 me at my age !^to hurt you. If I let go of 
 your wrist, will you walk straight before me, 
 where I can see you all the way ? Will you 
 be a good girl, and walk straight up to your 
 own door ?" 
 
 Magdalen gave the promise required of 
 her — gave it with an eager longing to reach 
 the refuge of her room. She rose and tried 
 to take the candle from the bureau, but old 
 Mazey's cunning hand was too quick for her. 
 " Let the caudle be," said the veteran, wink- 
 ing in momentary forgetfulness of his respon- 
 sible position. •' You 're a trifle quicker on 
 yo«r legs than I am, my dear, and you might 
 leave me in the lurch if I don't carry the 
 light." 
 
 They returned to the inhabited side of the 
 house. Staggering after Magdalen, with the 
 basket of keys in que hand and the candle in 
 the other, old Mazey sorrowfully compared her 
 figure with the straightness of the poplar, and 
 her disposition with the crookedness of Sin, 
 all the way across " Freeze-your-Bones," and 
 all the way up stairs to her own door. Ar- 
 rived at that destination, he peremptorily re- 
 fused to give her the candle until he had first 
 seen her safely inside the room. The con- 
 ditions being complied withj he resigned the 
 light with one hand, and made a dash with 
 the other at the key — drew it from the inside 
 of the lock, and instantly closed the door. 
 Magdalen heard him outside chuckling over 
 his own dexterity, and fitting the key into 
 the lock again with infinite difliculty. At last 
 he secured the door, with a deep grunt of re- 
 lief. " There she is, safe !" Magdalen heard 
 
 him say, in regretful soliloquy. " As fine a 
 girl as ever I set eyes on. What a pity! 
 what a pity !" 
 
 The last sounds of his voice died out in 
 the distance, and she was left alone in her 
 room. 
 
 Holding fast by the baluster, old Mazey 
 made his way down to the corridor on the 
 second floor, in which a night-lisht was al- 
 ways burning. He advanced to the truckle- 
 bed, and, steadying himself against the oppo- 
 site wall, looked at it attentively. Prolonged 
 contemplation of his own resting-place for 
 the night apparently failed to satisfy him. 
 He shook his head omniously, and, taking from 
 the side-pocket of his great-coat a pair of old 
 patched slippers, surveyed them with an as- 
 pect of illimitable doubt. " I 'm all abroad 
 to-night," he mumbled to himself. " Troubled 
 in my mind — that 's what it is — troubled in 
 my mind." , 
 
 The old patched slippers and the veteran's 
 existing perplexities happened to be intimate- 
 ly associated, one with the other, in the rela- 
 tion of cause and effect. The slippers be- 
 longed to the admiral, who had taken one of 
 his unreasonable fancies to this particular 
 pair, and who still persisted in wearing them 
 long after they were unfit for his service. 
 Early that afternoon old Mazey had taken 
 the slijapers to the village cobbler to get theni 
 repaired on the spot before his master called 
 for them the next mornings. He sat superin- 
 tending the progress and completion of the 
 work until evening came, when he and the 
 cobbler betook themselves to the village inh 
 to drink each other's healths at parting. They, 
 had prolonged this social ceremony till far 
 into the night; and they had parted, as a 
 necessary consequence, in a finished and per- 
 fect state of intoxication on either side. 
 
 If the drinking-bout had led to no other 
 result than those night wanderings in the 
 grounds of St. Crux, which had sliown old 
 Mazey the light in the east windows, his 
 memory would unquestionably have presented 
 it to him the next morning in the light of 
 one of the praiseworthy achievements of his 
 life. But another consequence had sprung 
 from it, which the old sailor now saw dimly 
 through the interposing bewilderment left in 
 his brain by the dr?nk. He had committed a 
 breach of discipline, and a breach of trust. 
 In plainer words, he had deserted his post. 
 
 The one safeguard against Admiral Bar- 
 tram's constitutional tendency to somnambu- 
 lism was thg watch and ward which his faith- 
 ful old servant kept outside the door. _ No 
 entreaties had ever prevailed on liini to sub- 
 mit to the usual precaution taken in such 
 cases. He peremptorily declined to be locked 
 into his room; he even ignored his own lia- 
 bility, whenever a dream disturbed him, to 
 walk in his sleep. Over and over again old 
 Mazey had been roused by his master's at- 
 
NO NA31E. 
 
 255 
 
 tempts to push past the trucklc-befl, or to 
 step over it, in his sleep ; and over and over 
 again, when he had reported the fact the 
 next morning, the admiral had declined to 
 believe him. As the old sailor now stood, 
 staring in vacant inquiry at his master's door, 
 these incidents of the past rose confusedly on 
 
 " I want to say something serious," replied 
 old Mazey, with impenetrable solemnity. — 
 ■' It 's been on my mind to come here and 
 make a clean breast of it for the last hour or 
 more. Mark my words, young woman. I 'm 
 going to disgrace myself." 
 
 Magdalen drew turther -and further back, 
 
 bis memory, and forced on him the serious i and looked at him in rising alarm, 
 question whether the admiral had left his i " I know my duty to his honor the admi- 
 room durina^ the earlier hours of the night ? | ral," proceeded old Mazey, waving his hand 
 Tf by any mischance the sleep-walking fit had j drearily in the direction of his master's door, 
 seized him, the slipi)ers in old Mazey s hand "But try as hard as I may, I can't find it 
 ,i)ointed sti-ainrht to the conclusion that fol- in my heart, you young jade, to be witness 
 lowed — his master must have passed barefoot I against ) iu. I liked the make of you (spe- 
 iii the cold night over the stone stairs and j cially about the waist) when you first came 
 passages of St. Crux. " Lord send he 's been i into the house, and I can't help liking the 
 quiet!" muttered old Mazey, daunted, bold j make of you still, though you /irtiv; committed 
 as he was, and drunk as he was, by the bare ! burglary, and though you are as crooked as 
 contemplation of that prospect. " If his hon- 'i Sin. I 've cast the eyes of indulgence on 
 or 's been walking to-night, it will be the j fine-grown girls all my life, and it 's too late 
 death oi' him !" j in the day to cast the eyes of severity on 'em 
 
 He roused himself for the moment by main i now. I 'm seventy-seven or seventy-eight, I 
 
 force — strong in his doglike tidelity to the 
 admiral, though strong in nothing else — and 
 fought olT the stupor of the drink. lie looked 
 at the bed with steadier eves and a clearer 
 
 don't rightly know which. I 'm a battered 
 old hulk, with my seams opening, and my 
 pumps choked, and the waters of Death pow- 
 erinsr in on me as fast as they can. 1 'm as 
 
 mind. Magdalen's precaution in returning miserable a sinner as you '11 meet with any- 
 it to its customary position presented it to where irt these parts — Thomas Nagle, the 
 him necessarily in the aspect of a bed which ! cobbler, only excepted ; and he 's worse than 
 had never been moved from its place. He j I am, for he 's the youngest of the two, and 
 next examined the counterpane carefully, he ought to know better.. But the long and 
 Not the faintest vestige appeared of the in- ' the sliort of it is, I shall go down to my grave 
 dentation which ii)ust have been left by foot- \ with an eye of indulgence for a fine-grown 
 steps passing over it. There was the plain \ girl. More sliame or me, you young Jezebel 
 evidence before him — the evidence recog- ; —more shame for me !" 
 
 nizable at last by his own bewildered eyes — ; The veteran's unmanageable eyes began to 
 that the admiral had never moved from his i leer again in spite of him, as he concluded his 
 room. " I 'ii take the Pledge to-morrow !" i harangue in these terms : the last reserves of 
 mumbled olil Mazey, in an outburst of grate- \ austerity left in his face intrenched them- 
 ful relief. The ne.xt moment the fumes of; selves dismally round the cornei's of his 
 the- liquor flowed back insidiously over his i mouth. Magdalen approaehed him again, 
 brain, and the veteran returning to his cus- j and tried to speak. He solemnly motioned 
 tomary remedy, paced the passage in zigzag her back again with another dreary wave of 
 
 as usual, and kept watch on the deck of an 
 imaginary ship. 
 
 his hand. 
 
 "No carneying!" said old Mazey; "I 'm bad 
 
 enough already without that. It 's my duty 
 Soon after sunrise Magdalen suddenly heard : to make my report to his honor the admiral, 
 the grating of the key from the outside in '< and I iviU make it. But if you like to give 
 the lock of the door. The door opened, and i the house the slip before the burglary 's re- 
 old Mazey reappeared on the threshold. The J ported and the court of inquiry begins — I 'II 
 first fever of his intoxi(;ation had cooled, | disgrace myself by letting you go. It 's niar- 
 with time, into a mild, penitential glow. He j ket morning at Ossory, and Dawkes will be 
 breathed liarder than ever, in a succession of} driving the light cart over in a (piarter of an 
 low growls, and wagged his venerable head j hour's time. Dawkes will take you if I ask 
 
 at his own delinquencies without intermission, 
 " How are you now, you young landshark 
 in petticoats?" inquired the veteran. "Has 
 your conscience been quiet enough to let you 
 go to sleep ?" 
 
 " I have not slept," said Magdalen, draw- 
 ing back from him in doubt of what he might 
 do next. " I have no remembrance of what 
 happened after you locked the door ; I think 
 I must have 'ainted. Don't frighten me again, 
 
 him. I know my duty — my duty is to turn 
 the key on you, and see Dawkes ilamned first. 
 But I can't find it in my heart to he hard on 
 a fine girl like you. It 's bred in the bone, 
 and it wunt come out of the flesh. More 
 shame for me, I tell you again — more shame 
 for me !" 
 
 The proposal thus strangely and suddenly 
 presented to her took INIagdalen completely 
 by surprise. She had been tar too seriously 
 
 Mr. Mazey ! 1 feel miserably weak and ill. \ shaken by the events of the night to be capa- 
 What do you want?" | ble of deciding on any subject at a moment's 
 
256 
 
 NO iNAME. 
 
 notice. " You ai'e very good to me, Mr. 
 Mazey," she said. " May I have a minute by 
 myself to think ?" 
 
 " Yes, yoix may," replied the veteran, fac- 
 ing about forthwith and leaving the room. 
 " They 're all alike," proceeded old Mazey, 
 with his head still running on the sex. 
 " Whatever you offer 'em, they always want 
 something more. Tall and short, native and 
 foreign, sweethearts and wives — they 're all 
 alike !" 
 
 Left by herself, Magdalen reached her de- 
 cision with far less difficulty than she had 
 anticipated.- 
 
 If she remained in the house, there were 
 only two courses before her — to charge old 
 Mazey with speaking under the influence of 
 a drunken delusion, OT to submit to circum- 
 stances. Thougl) she owed to the old sailor 
 her defeat in the very hour of success, his 
 consideration for her at that moment forbade 
 the idea of defending herself at his expense 
 — even supposing, what was in the last de- 
 gree improbable, that the defense would be 
 credited. In the second of the two cases 
 (the case of submission to circumstances) but 
 one result could be expected — instant dis- 
 missal, and perhaps discovery as well. What 
 object was to be gained by braving that deg- 
 radatifm — by leaving the house publicly dis- 
 graced in the eyes of the servants, who had 
 hated and distrusted her from the first ? The 
 accident which had literally snatched the 
 Trust from her possession when she had it in 
 her hand was irreparable. The one apparent 
 compensation under the disaster — in other 
 words, the discovery that tlie Trust actually 
 existed, and that George Bartram's marriage 
 ■within a. given time was one of the objects 
 contained in it — was a compensation which 
 could only be estimated at its true value by 
 placing it under the light of Mr. Loscombe's 
 experience. Every motive of which she was 
 conscious ^as a motive which urged her to 
 leave the house secretly, while the chance 
 ■was at her disposal. She looked out into the 
 passage, and called softly to old Mazey to 
 come back. 
 
 " I accept your offer thankfully, Mr. Ma- 
 zey," she said. " You don't know what hard 
 measure you dealt out to me when you took 
 that letter from my hand. ■ But you did your 
 duty ; and I can be gi'ateful to you for spar- 
 ing me this morning, hard as you were upon 
 me last night. I am not such a bad girl as 
 you think me — I am not, indeed." 
 
 Old Mazey dismissed the subject with an- 
 other dreary wave of his hand. 
 
 " Let it be," said the veteran ; " let it be ! 
 It makes no difference, my girl, to such an old 
 rascal as I am. If you were fitly times worse 
 
 than you are, I should let you go all the same. 
 Put on your bonnet and shawl, and come 
 along. I 'm a disgrace to myself and a warn- 
 ing to others — that 's what I am. No lug- 
 gage, mind ! Leave all your rattletraps be- 
 hind you, to be overhauled, if necessary, at ^ 
 his honor the admiral's discretion. I can be 
 hard enough on your boxes, you young Jeze- 
 bel, if I can't be hard on you." 
 ' With those words old Mazey led the way 
 out of the room. "The less I see of her the 
 better — especially about the waist," he said 
 to himself as he hobbled down stairs with the* 
 help of the balusters. 
 
 The cart was standing in the back-yarJi 
 when they reached the lower regions of the 
 house, and Dawkes (otherwise the farm-bail- 
 iff's man) was fastening the last buckle of the 
 horse's harness.' The hoar-frost of the morn- 
 ing was still wlilte in the shade. The spark- 
 ling points of it glistened brightly on the 
 shaggy coats of Brutus and Casslus as they 
 idled about the yard, waiting, with steaming 
 mouths and slowly-v/agging tails, to see the 
 cart drive off. Old Mazey went out alone 
 and used his Influence with Dawkes, who,, 
 staring In stolid amazement, put a leather 
 cushion for his fello-^-traveller on the cart- 
 seat. Shivering In the sharp morning air, 
 Magdalen waited while the preliminaries of 
 departure were In progress, conscious of noth- 
 ing but a giddy bewilderment of thought and" 
 a hopeless suspension of feeling. The events 
 of the night confused themselves hideously 
 with th(^ trivial circumstances passing before 
 her eyes in the court-yard. She started with 
 the sudden terror of the night when old Mazey 
 reappeared to summon her out to the cart. 
 She trembled with the helpless confusion of 
 the night when the veteran cast the eyes of 
 Indulgence on her for the last time, and g&ve 
 her a kiss on the cheek at parting. The ijext 
 minute she felt him help her into the cart and 
 pat her on the back. The next she heard 
 him tell her, in a confidential whisper, that, 
 sitting' or standin*, she was as straight as 
 a poplar, either way. Then there was a pause, 
 in which nothing was said and nothing done ; 
 and then the driver took the reins in hand 
 and mounted to his place. 
 
 She roused herself at the parting moment 
 and looked back. The last sight she saw at 
 St. Crux was old Mazey wagging his head in 
 the court-yard, with his fellow-profligates, the * 
 dogs, keeping time to him with their tails. 
 The last words she heard were the words in 
 which the veteran paid his farewell tribute to 
 her charms : 
 
 " Burglary or no burglary," said old Mazey, 
 " she 's a fine-grown girl, if ever there was a 
 fine one yet ! What a pity ! ■what a pity ! " \ 
 
 THE END OF THE SEVENTH SCENE. 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 257 
 
 BETWEEN THE SCEiNES. 
 
 KROM OKOROB BARTBAM TO ADMIRAL BARTKAM. 
 
 •' London. April 3, 1848. 
 
 '• My dear Unclk — One hasty line, to 
 inform you of a temporary obstacle which we 
 neither of us anticipated when we took leave 
 of each other at St. Crux. While I was wast- 
 ing the last days of the week at the Grange, 
 the Tyrrels niu.st have been making their 
 arrangements lor leaving London. 1 have 
 just come from Portland Place. The house is 
 shut up, and the family (Miss Vanstone, of 
 course, included) left England yesterday to 
 pj»KS the season in Paris. i 
 
 " Pray don't let yourself be annoyed by j 
 this little check at starting. It is of no se- | 
 rious importance whatever. I have got the ! 
 address at which the Tyrrels are living, and I 
 mean to cross the Channel after them by the 
 mail to-night. I shall find my opportunity in ^ 
 Paris just as soon as I could have found it ; 
 in Loudon. The grass shall not grow under I 
 my feet. I promise you. For once in my life I 
 I will take Time as fiercely by the forelock as 
 if I "was the most impetuous man in England ; 
 and, rely on it, the moment I know the result ' 
 you shall know the result too. 
 
 *' Affectionately yours, 
 
 "Gkorgr Baktram." 
 
 n. 
 
 FROM OnOKOS RARTKAM TO MISS OARTH. 
 
 " PAf IS, Jpril IS. j 
 
 " Dear Mies Garth — I have just written ! 
 with a heavy heart to my uncle, and I think I 
 I owe it to your kind interest in me not to 1 
 omit writing ne.xt to you. j 
 
 " You will feel for niy disappointment, I am 
 sure, when I tell you, in the fewest and i 
 plainest words, that Miss Vanstone has re- | 
 t'nsed me. ' 
 
 " My vanity may have grievously misled 
 me, but I confess 1 e.xpected a very different 
 result. My vanity may be misleading mo still, 
 for I must acknowledge to you privately that 
 I think Miss Vanstone was sorry to refuse me. 
 The reason she gave for her decision — no 
 doubt a sufficient reason in her estimation — 
 did not at the time, and does not now, seem 
 sufficient to me. She spoke in the sweetest 
 and kindest manner ; but she firmly declared 
 that ' her family misfortunes' left her no hon- 
 orable alternative but to think of my own 
 interests, as I had not thought of them my- 
 self, and gratefully to decline accepting my 
 offer. 
 
 " She was so painfully agitated th4t I could 
 Bot venture to plead my own cause as T 
 
 aa 
 
 might otherwise have pleaded it. At the first 
 attempt I made to touch the personal question 
 she entreated me to spare her, and abruptly 
 left the room. I am still ignorant whether I 
 am to interpret the 'family misfortunes' which 
 have set up this barrier between us as mean- 
 ing the misfortune for which her parents 
 alone are* to blame, or the misfortune of her 
 having such a woman as Mrs. Noel Vanstone 
 for her sister. In whichever of these circum- 
 stances the obstacle lie.*;, it is no obstacle in 
 my estimation. Can nothing remove it ? Is 
 there no hope V Forgive me for as^king these 
 questions. . I can not bear up against my 
 bitter disappointment. Neither she nor you, 
 nor any one but myself, know how I love 
 her. 
 
 " Ever most truly yours, 
 
 " George Bartram. 
 " P- S. — I shall leave for England in a.day 
 or two, passing through London, on my way to 
 St. Cru.x. There are family reasons, con- 
 nected with the hateful subject of money, 
 which make me look forward with anything 
 but pleasure to my next interview with rnv 
 uncle. If you address your letter to Lon^^'s 
 hotel it will be sure to reach me." 
 
 III. 
 
 rROM MISS OARTH TO OKOEGE BARTRAM. 
 
 " Westmorbland nou8E, Jpril U. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Bartram — You only did me 
 justice in supposing that your letter would 
 distress me. If you had supposed that it 
 would make me excessively angry as well, 
 you would not have been far wrong. I have 
 no patience with the pride and perversity of 
 the young women of the present day. 
 
 " I have heard from Norah. It is a long 
 letter, stating the particulars in full detail. I 
 am now going to put all the confidence in 
 your honor and your discretion whi«h I really 
 feel. For your sake and for Norah's I am 
 going to let you know what the scruple really 
 is which has misled her into the pride and 
 folly of refusing you. T am old enough to 
 speak out ; and I can tell you if she had only 
 been wise enough to let her own wishes guide 
 her she would have said Yes — and gladly 
 too. • 
 
 " The original cause of all the mischief is 
 no less a person than your' worthy uncle, Ad- 
 miral Bartram. 
 
 " It seems that the admiral took it into his 
 head (I suppose during your absence) to go to 
 London by himself, and to satisfy some curi- 
 osity of his own about Norah by calling in 
 Portland Place under 'pretense of renewing 
 his old friendship with the Tyrrels. He cam« 
 
258 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 at luncheou-time aud saw Norah, and, from 
 all T can hear, was apparently better pleased 
 with Ijer than he expected or wished to be 
 when he came into the house. 
 
 " So far this is mei-t guesswork ; but it is 
 unluckily certain that he and Mrs. Tyrrel had 
 some talk together alone when luncheon was 
 over. Your name was not mentioned; but 
 when their conversation fell on Norah, you 
 were in both their minds, of course. The 
 admiral (doing her full justice personally) de- 
 clared himself smitten with pity for her hard | plead your cause for you at every opportunit) 
 lot in life. The scandalous conduct of her | I can find — wait patiently for the right mo- 
 sister must always stand (he feared) in the | ment — and ask her again. Men, being accus- 
 wav of her future advantage. Who could tomed to act on reflection themselves, are a 
 marry her without first making it a condition ; great deal too apt to believe that women act 
 that she and her sister were to be absolute i on reflection too. Women do nothing of the 
 
 sister which no strangers can be expected to 
 share, above the higher claims of an attach- 
 ment which might have secured the happiness 
 and the prosperity of her future life. 
 
 " But the mischief has been done. The 
 next question is, can the harm be remedied ? 
 
 " I hope and believe it can. My advice is 
 this : Don't take No for'an answer. Give her 
 time enoijgh to reflect on what she has done, 
 and to regi'et it (as I believe she will regret 
 it) in secret — trust to my influence over her to 
 
 strangers to each other '? And even then the 
 objection would remain — the serious objection 
 to the husband's family — of being connected 
 by marriage with such a woman as Mrs. Noel 
 Vanstone. It was very sad ; it was not the 
 poor girl's fault — but it was none the less true 
 that her sister was her rock ahead in life. So 
 he ran on, with no real ill-feeling toward No- 
 rah, but with an obstinate belief in his own 
 prejudices which bore the aspect of ill-feeling, 
 and which people with more temper than 
 judgment would be but too readily disposed 
 to resent accordingly. 
 
 " Unfortunately, Mrs. Tyrrel is one of those 
 people. She is an excellent, warm-hearted 
 woman, with a quick temper and very little 
 judgment — strongly attached to Norah, and 
 heartily interested in Norah's welfare. From 
 all I can learn, she first resented the expres- 
 sion of the admiral's opinion, in his presence, 
 as wordly and selfish in the last degree ; and 
 then interpreted it behind his back as a hint 
 to discourage his nephew's visits, which was a 
 downright insult offered to a lady in her own 
 house. " This was fooHsh enough so far, but 
 worse folly was to come. 
 
 " As soon as your uncle was gone, Mrs. T;yT- 
 rel, most unwisely and improperly, sent for 
 Norah, and, repeating the conversation that 
 had taken place, warned her of the reception 
 she might expect from the man who stood 1 usually stay at in London, hoping that you may 
 
 sort. They act on impulse ; and in nine cases 
 out of ten they are heartily sorry for it after- 
 ward. 
 
 " In the meanwhile you must help your own 
 interests by inducing your uncle to alter his 
 opinion, or at least to make the concession of 
 keeping his opinion to himself Mrs. Tyrrel 
 has rushed to the conclusion that the harm he 
 has done he did intentionally, which is as much 
 as to say, in so many words, that he had a 
 prophetic conviction, when he came into the 
 house, of what she should do when he left it. 
 My explanation of the matter is a mucJi siifi- 
 pler one. I believe that the knowledge of your 
 attachment naturally roused his curiosity to 
 see the object of it, and that Mrs. Tyrrel's in- 
 judicious praises of Norah irritated his objec- 
 tions into openly declaring themselves. Any 
 way, your course lies eqrjally plain before you. 
 Use your influence over your uncle to per- 
 suade him into setting mattei's right again ; 
 trust my settled resolution to see Norah your 
 wife before six months more are over our 
 heads ; a'nd believe me your friend and well- 
 wisher. Harriet Garth." 
 
 ■ IV. 
 
 . FROM MKS. DRAKK TO Gi;oRGE BARTRAM. 
 
 ■'St. Crux, April 17. 
 I direct these lines to the hotel you 
 
 SlR- 
 
 t0"stard you in the position of a father, if she 
 accepted an offer of marriage on your part- 
 When I tell you that Norah's faithful attach- 
 ment to her sister still remains unshaken, and 
 that there lies hidden under her noble sub- 
 mission to the unhappy circumstances of her 
 life a proud susceptibility to slights of all 
 kinds, which is deeply seated in her nature, 
 you will understand the true motive of the 
 refusal which has so'naturally and so justly 
 disappointed you. They are all three equally 
 to blame iu this matter. Your uncle was 
 wrong to state his objections as i-oundly and 
 inconsiderately as he did. Mrs. Tyrrel was 
 wrong to let her temper get the better of her, 
 and to suppose herself insulted where no insult 
 was intended. And Nprah was wrong to place 
 A scruple of pride, and a hopeless belief in her 
 
 return soon enough from foreign parts to re- 
 ceive my letter without delay. 
 
 " I am sorry to say thai some unpleasant 
 events have taken place at St. Crux since you 
 left it, and that my honored master, the admi- 
 ral, is far from enjoying his "usual good health. 
 On both these accounts I venture to write to 
 you on my own responsibility, for I think your 
 presence is needed in the house. , 
 
 " Early in the month a most regrettable cir- 
 cumstance took place. Our new parlor-maid 
 was discovered by IVIr. Mazey, at a late hour 
 of the night (with her master's basket of keys 
 in her possession), prying into the private 
 documents kept in the east library. The girl 
 removed herself from the house the next morn- 
 ing before we were any of us astir, and she 
 has not been heard of since.- This' event has 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 259 
 
 annoyed aud alarmed my master very serious- 
 ly ; and to make matters worse, on the day 
 when the girl's treacherous conduct was dis- 
 covered, the a-^ iiiral was seized with the first 
 symptoms of a .'vere inflammatory rold. He 
 was not himself aware, nor was any one else, 
 how he had caught the chill. The doctor was 
 sent for, and kept the inflammation down until 
 the day before yesterday — when it broke out 
 again under circumstances which I arfi sure 
 you will Wli sorry to hear, as I am truly sorry 
 to write of them. 
 
 " On the date I have just mentioned — I 
 mean the fifteenth of the month — my master 
 himself informed me that he had been dread- 
 fully disappointed by a letter received from 
 you, which had come in the morning from 
 foreign, parts, and hail brought him bad news. 
 He did not tell me what the news was — but I 
 have never, in all the years I have passed in 
 the admiral's service, seen him so distressingly 
 upset, and so unlike himself, as ho was on that 
 day. At night his uneasiness seemed to in- 
 crease. He was in such a state of irritation 
 that he could not bear the sound of Mr. Ma-c 
 zey's hard breathing outside his door, aud he 
 laid his positive orders on the old man to go 
 into one of the bedrooms for that night. Mr. 
 Mazey, to his own great regret, was of course 
 obliged to obey. 
 
 " Our only means of preventing the admi- 
 ral from leaving his room in his sleep, if. the 
 fit unfortunately took him, being now remov- 
 ed, Mr. Mazey and I agreed to keep watch by 
 turns through the night — sitting with the 
 door ajar in one of the empty rooms near our 
 master's bedchamber. We' could thi;ik of 
 nothing better to do than this — knowing he 
 would not allow us to lock him in ; and not 
 having the door-key in our possession, even if 
 we could have ventured to secure him in his 
 room without his permission. I kept watch 
 for the first two hours, and then Mr. Mazey 
 took my -place. After having beeh some little 
 time in my own room, it occurred to me that 
 the old man was hard of hearing, and that if 
 his eyes grew at all heavy in the uight his 
 ears were not to be trusted to warn him if 
 anything happened. I slipped on my fclothes 
 again, and went back to Mr. Mazey. He 
 was neither asleep nor awake — he was be- 
 tween the two. My mind misgave me, and I 
 went on to the admiral's room. The door 
 was open, and the bed was emptj-. 
 
 "Mr. Mazey and I went down .stairs in- 
 stantly. We looked in all the north rooms, 
 one after another, and found no traces of him. 
 I thought of the drawing-room next, and, be- 
 ing the most active of the two, went first to 
 examine it. The moment I turned the sharp 
 corner of the passage I saw my master coming 
 toward me through the open drawing-room 
 door, asleep and dreaming, with the keys in 
 his bands. The sliding-door behind him was 
 open also; and the fear came to me then, and 
 has remained with me evei; since, that' his 
 
 dream had led him through tke Batiqueting- 
 hall into the east rooms. We abstained from 
 waking him, and followed his steps until he 
 returned of his own accord to his bedcham- 
 ber. The next morning, I grieve to say, all 
 the bad symptoms came back, and none of the 
 remedies emploj'ed have succeeded in getting 
 the better of them yet. By the doctor's ad- 
 vice we refrained from telling the admiral 
 what had happened. He is still under the 
 impression that he passed the night as usual 
 in his own room. 
 
 " I have been cai*eful to enter into all the 
 particulars of this unfortunate accident, be- 
 cause neither Mr. Mazey nor myself desire to 
 screen ourselves from blame, if blame we have 
 deserved. We both acted for the best, and 
 we both beg and pray you will consider our 
 responsible situation, and come as , soon as 
 possible to St. Crux. Our honored master is 
 ver}' hard to manage ; and the doctor thinks, 
 as Ave (Jo, that your presence is wanted in the 
 house. 
 
 " I remain. Sir, with Mr. Mazey's respects 
 and my own, your humble servant, 
 
 "Sophia Drakk." 
 
 V. 
 
 FROM CKOHIJK BAIITXAM TO MISS GARTH. 
 
 •• St. Crux, April 22. 
 
 " Deah Miss Gakth — Pray excuse my 
 not thanking you sooner for your kind and 
 consoling letter. We are in sad trouble at 
 St. Crux. Any little irritation I might have' 
 felt at my poor uncle's unlucky interference 
 in Portland Place is all forgotten in the mis- 
 fortune of his serious illness. He is suffering 
 from internal inflammation, produced by cold; 
 and symptoms have shown themselves which 
 are dangerous at his age. A physician from 
 London is now in the house. You shall hear 
 more in a few days. Meantime, believe me, 
 with sincere gratitude. 
 
 " Yours most truly, 
 
 " George Baktram." 
 
 VI. 
 
 FIIOM >IK. LOSCOMBB TO MRS. NOEJ. VANSTONE. . 
 
 •' Lincoln's iNff Fields, Jlfay 6. 
 
 " Dear Madam — I have unexpectedly re- 
 ceived some information" which is of the most 
 vital importance to your interests. The news 
 of Admiral Bartram's death has reached mc 
 this morning. He expired at his own house 
 on the fourth of the present month. 
 
 " This event at once disposes of the con- 
 siderations which I had previously endeavored 
 to imprcBS on you in relation to your discovery 
 a't St. Crux. The wisest course we can now 
 follow is to open communications at once with 
 the executors of the deceased gentleman ; 
 addressing them through the medium of the 
 admiral's le^al adviser in the first instance. 
 
 " I have dispatched a letter this day to the 
 solicitor in question. It simply warns him 
 
360 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 that we have lately become awafe of the ex- 
 istence of a private Document controlling the 
 deceased gentleman in his use of the legacy 
 devised to him by Mr. Noel Vanstone's will. 
 My letter assumes that the document will be 
 easily found among the admiral's papers, and 
 it mentions that I am the solicitor appointed 
 by Mrs. Noel Vanstone to receive communi- 
 cations on her behalf. My object in taking 
 this step is to cause a search to be instituted 
 for the Trust — in the very probable event of 
 the executors not having met with it yet — 
 before the usual measures are adopted for the 
 administration of the admiral's estate. We 
 will threaten legal proceedings if we find that 
 the object does not succeed. But I anticipate 
 no such necessity. Admiral Bartram's ex- 
 ecutors must be men of high standing and 
 position, and they will do justice to you and 
 to. themselves in this matter by looking for the 
 Trust. 
 
 " Under these ci^cumstance^ you will natu- 
 rally ask, ' What are our prospects when the 
 document is found ?' Our prospects have a 
 bright side and a dark side. Let us tak6 the 
 bright side to begin with. 
 
 " What do we actually know ? 
 
 " We know, first, that the Trust does really 
 exist. Secondly, that there is a provision in 
 it relating to the marriage of Mr. George 
 Bartram m a given time. Thirdly, that the 
 time (six mqpths from the date of your hus- 
 band's death) expired on the third of this 
 month. Fourthly, that Mr. George Bartram 
 (as I have found out by inquiry, in the ab- 
 sence of any positive information on the sub- 
 ject possessed by yourself) is at the present 
 moment a single man. The conclusion nat- 
 urally follows that the object contemplated 
 by the Trust, in this case, is an object that has 
 failed. 
 
 " If no other provisions have been inserted 
 in the document — or if, being inserted, those 
 other provisions should be discovered to have 
 failed also — I believe it to be impossible (es- 
 pecially if evidence can be found that the 
 admiral himself considered the Trust binding 
 on him) for the executors to deal with your 
 husband's fortune as legally forming part of 
 Admiral Bartram's estate. The legacy is ex- 
 pressly declared to have been left to him, 
 on the understanding that he applies it to 
 certain stated objects — and those objects have 
 failed. What is to be done with the money ? 
 It was not left to the admiral himself, on 
 the testator's own showing ; and the purposes 
 for which it was left have not been, and can 
 not be, carried out. I believe (if the case 
 here supposed really happens) that the money 
 must revert to the testator's estate. In that 
 event the Law, dealing with it as a matter of 
 necessity, divides it into two equal portions. 
 One-half goes to Mr. Noel Vanstone's child- 
 less widow, and the other half is divided 
 among Mr. Noel Vanstone's nest of kin. 
 
 " You will no doubt discover the obvioas 
 objection to the case in our favor, as I have 
 here put it. You will see that it depends for 
 its practical realization, not /)n one contin- 
 j gency, but on a series of conpe.gencies, which 
 ; must all happen exactly as' we wish them 
 I to happen. I, admit the force of the objec- 
 ' tion : but I can tell you at the same time that 
 these said contingencies are by no means so 
 ' improbable as they may look on the face 
 of them. - . 
 
 I " We have every reason to believe that the 
 Trust, like the Will, was not drawn by a 
 I lawyer. That is one circumstance in our fa- 
 vor — that is enough of itself to cast a doubt 
 ! on the soundness of all or any of the remain- 
 i ing provisions which we may not be ac- 
 quainted with. Another chance, which we 
 may count on is to be found, as I think, in 
 that strange handwriting, placed under the 
 signature on the third page of the Letter, 
 which you saw, but which you unhappily 
 omitted to read. All the probabilities point 
 to these lines as written by Admiral Bartram ; 
 and the position which they occupy is cer- 
 tainly consistent with the theory that they 
 touch the important subject of his own sense 
 of obligation under the 'Trust. 
 
 "I wish to raise no false hopes in your 
 I mind. I only desire to satisfy yoy that we 
 j have a case worth trj-ing. 
 j " As for the dark side of the prospect, I 
 \ need not enlarge on it. After what I hav e 
 j already written, you will understand that the 
 ' existence of a sound provision unknown to us 
 ' in the Trust — whi<*h has been properly carried 
 I out by the admiral, or which can be properly 
 carried out hf his representatives — would be 
 j necessarily fatal to our hopes. The legacy 
 I would be in this case devoted to the purpose 
 I or purposes contemplated by your husband, 
 j and from that moment you would have no 
 claim. 
 
 I "I have only to add, that as soon as I hear 
 I from the late admiral's man of business you 
 shall know the result. 
 
 " Believe me, dear madam, faithfully yours, 
 " John Losoombk." 
 
 Vll. 
 
 rnOV GBOnGB CABTRAil TO WISR GAETH. 
 
 "St!. Crcx, May 15. 
 
 " Dear Miss GaktH — I trouble you with 
 another letter, partly to thank you for your 
 kind expression of sympathy with me under 
 the loss that I sustained, and partly to tell 
 you of an extraordinary application made to 
 my uncle's executors, in which you and Miss 
 Vanstone may both feel interested, as Mrs. 
 Noel Vanstone is dii-ectly concerned in it. 
 
 " Knowing my own ignorance of legal tech- 
 nicalities, I inclose a copy of the application, 
 instead of trying to describe it. You will 
 notice as suspicioifs that no explanation is 
 given of the manner in which the alleged 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 261 
 
 diflcoverj' of one of my uncle's secrets was ] 
 made by persons who are total strangers to | 
 him. _ I 
 
 " On being made acquainted with the (>ir- 1 
 cumstances, the executors at once applied to ; 
 me. I could give them ito positive infor- ' 
 mation, for my uncle never consulted me on 
 matters of business. But T felt in honor j 
 bound to tell them that during the last six j 
 months of his life the admiral had occasionalh ■ 
 let fall expressions of impatience in my hear- 
 ing, which led to the conclusion that he was 
 annoyed by a private responsibility of some | 
 kind. 1 also mentioned that he had imposed \ 
 a very strange condition on me — a conilition 1 
 which, in spite of his own assurances to the i 
 contrary, I was persuaded could not have 
 emanated from himself — of marrying Ti^ithin a [ 
 given time (which time has now e.xpired), or i 
 of not receiving from him a certain sum of | 
 money, which I believed to be the same in | 
 amount as the sum bequeathed . to him in 
 my coysin's will. The executors agreed with ; 
 me that these circufiistances gave a color of 1 
 probability to an otherwise incredible story ; 
 and they de<nded that a search should be in- , 
 stituted for the Secret Trust — nothings; in the 
 slightest degree resembling this same Trust j 
 having been discovered up to that time among 
 the admiral's papers. 
 
 " The. seareii (no trifle in such a house as ! 
 this) has now been in full progress for a week. 
 It is superintended by both the executors and ', 
 by my uncle's lawyer— who is personally, as 
 well as professionally, known to Mr. Loscombc 
 (Mrs. Noel Vanstone's solicitor), and who has 
 been included in the proceedings at tlie ex- | 
 press request of Mr. Loscombe himself I'p 
 to this time nothing whatever has been ibuiid. 
 Thousands and thousands of letters have been 
 examined — and not one of them bears the , 
 remotest resemblance to the" letter we are { 
 looking for. 
 
 " Another week will bring the search to an 
 end. It is only at my express request that it 
 will be persevered with so long. But as the ' 
 admiral's generosity has made me sole heir to 
 everything he posses-sed, I feel bound to do 
 the fullest justice to the interests of others, 
 however hostile to myself those interests- 
 may be. 
 
 " With this view I have not hesitated to re- ; 
 veal to the lawyer a constitutional peculiarity '< 
 of my poor imcle's. which was always kept a ' 
 secret among us at his own request — 1 mean his i 
 tendency to somnambulism. 1 mentioned that 
 he had been discovered (by the housekeeper ' 
 and his old servant) walking in his sleep about 
 three weeks before his death, and that the ' 
 part of the house in which he had been seen, i 
 and the basket of keys which he was carrying 
 in his hand, suggested the inference that he J 
 had come from one of the rooms in the east i 
 wing, and that he might have opened some of 
 the pieces of furniture in one of them. I sur- 
 prised the lawyer (who seemetl to be quit^ I 
 
 ignorant of the extraordinary actions con- 
 stantly performed by somnambulists) by in- 
 forming him that my uncle could find his way 
 about the house, lock and unlock doors, and 
 remove objects of all kinds from one place to 
 another as easily in his sleep as in his waking 
 hours. And I declared that, while I felt the 
 faintest doubt in my own mind whether he 
 might not have been dreaming of the Trust 
 on the night in question, and putting the 
 dream in action in nis sleep, I should not feel 
 satisfied unless the rooms in the east wing 
 were searched again. 
 
 " It is only right to add that there is not the 
 least foundation in fact for this idea of mine.' 
 During the latter part of his fatal illness my 
 poor uncle was quite incapable of speaking on 
 any subject whatever. From the lime of my 
 arrival at St. Crux, in the middle of last 
 month, to the time of his death, not a word 
 dropped from him which referred in the re- 
 motest way to the Secret Trust. 
 
 " Here then, for the present, the matter 
 rests. If you think it right to commnnicate 
 the contents of this letter to Miss Van«tone, 
 pray tell her that it will not be my fault if her 
 sister's a^.sertion (however preposterous it may 
 seem to my uncle's executors) is not fairly put 
 to the proof 
 
 " Believe me, dear Miss Garth, always truly 
 your.s, Georok Bartuajm. 
 
 " P. S. — As soon as all business matters are 
 settled I am going abroad for some months, to 
 try the relief of change of scene. The house 
 will be shut up, and left under the charge of 
 Mrs. Drake. I have not forgotten your once 
 telling me that you should like to see St. Crux, 
 if you ever found yourself in this neighbor- 
 hood. If you are at all likely to be in Essex 
 during the time when I am abroad, I have 
 provided against the chance of yonr being 
 disappointed, by leaving instructions with 
 Mrs. Drake to give you. and any friends of 
 yours, the freest admission to the house and 
 grounds." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 PROM MR. rO.sroMBE TO MRS. NOEL VAMSTOKB. 
 
 ■'Lincoln's Inn Fiklds. Jfoj/ .4. 
 
 " DiiAK Madam — After a whole fortnight's 
 search — conducted, I am bound to admit, with 
 the most coiK>;cientious and unrela.xing care — 
 no such document as the Secret Trust ,has 
 been found among the papers lef't at St. Crux 
 by the late Admiral Bartram. 
 
 " Under these circumstances the executors 
 have decided on acting under the only recog- 
 nizable authority which they have to guide 
 them — the admiral's own will. This document 
 (executed .some yeajs since) bequeaths the 
 whole of his estate, both real and personal 
 (that is to .say, all the lands he possesses, an'd 
 all the money he possesses at the time of his 
 death), to his nephew. The will is plain, and 
 the result is inevitable. Your husband's for- 
 tune i» lost to you from this moment. Mr. 
 
tti-d 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 (reor^e Barti-am legally inherits it, as he le- 
 irally inherits the house and estate of St. Crux. 
 " I make no comment upon this extraordi- 
 iiaiy close to the proceedings. The Trust 
 may have been destroyed, or the Trust may 
 be hidden in some place of concealment inac- 
 cessible to discovery aftei* the most patient 
 and prolonged search for it. It is useless for 
 either of us to speculate on the subject now. 
 I will not add to your disappointment by any 
 references to the time and money which I 
 have lost in the unfortunate attempt to assert 
 your interests. I will merely say that my 
 connection (both personal and professional) 
 with the matter must from this moment be 
 considered at an end. 
 
 ". Your obedient servant, 
 
 " John Loscombk." 
 
 IX. 
 
 FROM MRS. IIUUBOCK (LODGING-HOUSE KEEPER) TO 
 MR. LOSCOMBE. 
 
 • Cark Terrace. St. .Iohn.s Wood, June 2. 
 
 " Sir — Having, by Mrs. Noel Vanstone's 
 directions, taken letters for hei- to the post 
 addressed to you, and knowing no on6 else to 
 apply to, I beg to inquire whether you are 
 acquainted with any of her friends, for I think 
 it right that they should be stirred up to take 
 some steps about her. 
 
 " Mrs. Vanstone first caine to me in Novem- 
 ber last, when she and her maid occupied my 
 apartments. On that occasion, and again on 
 this, she has given me no cause to complain of 
 her. She has behaved like a lady, and paid 
 me my due. I am writing, as a mother of a 
 family, under a sense of responsibility — I am 
 not writing with an interested motive. 
 
 " After proper warning given, Mrs. Van- 
 
 stone (who is now quite alone) leaves me to- , 
 morrow. She has not concealed from me that 
 her circumstances are fallen very low, ai;id 
 that she cannot afford to remain in my house. 
 This is all ste has told me — I know nothing 
 of where she is going, or what she means to 
 do next. But I have every reason to believe 
 she desires to destroy all traces by which -she 
 might be found after leaving this place ; for I 
 discovei^d her in tears yesterday, burning 
 letters which were doubtless letters from her 
 friends. In looks and conduct she has altered 
 most shockingly in the last week. I believe 
 there is some dreadful trouble on he^; mind ; 
 and I am afraid, from what I see of her, that 
 she is on the eve ,of a serious illness. It is 
 very sad to see such a young woman so ut-. 
 terly deserted and frielidless as she is now. 
 
 "Excuse my troubling you with this letter; 
 it is on my conscience to write it. If you 
 know any of her relations, please warn them 
 that time is not to be wasted. If they lose 
 to-morrow, they may lose the last chance of 
 finding her. 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 " Catherine Ruddock." 
 
 X. 
 
 FROM MR. LOSCOMBE TO MKS.. RUDDOCK. 
 
 ." Lincoln's Inn Fields, Juna 2. 
 
 " Madam — My only connection with Mrs. 
 Noel Vanstone was a professional one, and 
 that connection is now at an end. I am not 
 acquainted with any of her friends, and I 
 can not undertake to interfere personally 
 either with her present or future proceedings. 
 
 " Regretting my inability to afford you any 
 assista,nce, I remain, your obedient servant, 
 "John Loscombe." 
 
 THE LAST SCENE-AARON'S BUILDINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 On the s'eventh of Jun« the owners of the 
 merchantman Deliverance received news that 
 the ship had touched at Plymouth to land 
 passengers, and had then continued her home- 
 ward voyage to the Port of London. Five 
 days later the latter was in the river, and was 
 towed into the East India docks. 
 
 Having transacted the business on shore for 
 which he was personally responsible. Captain 
 Kirke made the necessary arrangements by 
 letter for visiting his brother-in-law's parson- 
 age in Suffolk, on the seventeenth of the 
 month. As usual in such cases, he received 
 a list of commissions to execute for his sister 
 on the day before he left London. One of 
 these commissions took him into the neighbor- 
 hood of Camden Town. He drove to his 
 destination from the Docks, and then, dismiss- 
 
 ing the vehicle, set forth to walk back south- 
 ward toward the New Road. 
 
 He was not well acquainted with the dis- 
 trict, and his attention wandered further and 
 further away from the scene around him as 
 he went on. His thoughts, roused by the 
 prospect of seeing his sister again, had led 
 his memory back to the night when he had 
 parted from her, leaving the house on foot. 
 The spell so strangely laid on him in that 
 past time had kept its hold through all after 
 events. The face that had haunted him &n 
 the lonely road had hauiited him again on 
 the lonely sea. ' The woman who had fol- 
 lowed him, as in a dream, to his sister's door, 
 had followed him — th6ught of his thought, 
 and spirit of his spirit — to the deck of his 
 ship. Through' storm and calm on the voy- 
 age out, through storm and calm on the voy- 
 age home, she had been with him. In the 
 
i*0 NAME. 
 
 363 
 
 ceaseless turmoil of the London streets she 
 was with him now. He knew what the first 
 question on his lips would be, when he had 
 seen his sister and her boys. "I shall try to 
 talk of something else," he thought ; " but 
 when Lizzie and I are alone, it will come out 
 in spite of me.'" 
 
 The necessity of waiting to let a string 
 of carts pass at a turning before he crossed 
 awakened him to present tilings. ,He looked 
 about in a momentary confusion. The street 
 was strange to him; he had lost his way. 
 
 The first foot-passenger of whom he in- 
 quired appeared to have no time to waste in 
 giving information. Hurriedly directing him 
 to cross to the other side of the road, to turn 
 down the first street he came to on his right 
 hand, and then to ask again, the stranger un- 
 ceremoniously hastened on without waiting 
 to be thanked. 
 
 Kirke followed his directions, and took the 
 turning on his right. The street was short 
 and narrow, and the houses on either side 
 were of the poorer order. He looked up as 
 he passed the corner to see what the name of 
 the place might be. It was trailed " Aaron's 
 Buildings." 
 
 Low down on the side of the " Buildings " 
 along which he was walking a little crowd of 
 idlers was assembled round two cabs, both 
 drawn up before the door of the same, house. 
 Kirke advanced to the crowd to ask his way 
 of any civil stranger among them wlio might 
 not be in a hurry this time. On approaching 
 the cabs he found a AToman disputing with 
 the drivers, and heard enough to inform him 
 that two vehicles had been sent for by mis- 
 take where only one was wanted. 
 
 The house-door was open ; and when he 
 turned that way next, he looked easily into 
 the passage over the heads of the jieople in 
 front of him. 
 
 The sight that met his eyes should- have 
 been shielded in pity from the observation of 
 the street. He saw a slatternly girl, with a 
 frightened face, standing by an old chair 
 placed in the middle of the jiassage, and 
 holding a woman on the chair, too weak and 
 helpless to support herself — a woman appar- 
 ently in the last stage of illness, who was 
 about to be removed, when the dispute out- 
 side was ended, in one of the cabs. Her 
 head was drooping when he first saw her, and 
 an old shawl which covered it had fallen for- 
 ward so as to hide the upper ])art of her face. 
 
 Before he could look away again the girl 
 in charge of her raised her head and restored 
 the shawl to its place. The action disclosed 
 her face to view, for an instant only, before 
 her head drooped back on her bosom. In 
 that instant he saw the woman whose beauty 
 was the haunting remembrance of his life — 
 whose iniagef had been vivid in his mind not 
 live minutes since. 
 
 The shock of the double recognition — the 
 recognition, at the same moment, of the face, 
 
 and of the dreadful change in it — struck him 
 speechless and helpless. The steady presence 
 of mind in all emergencies, which had be«om»' 
 a habit of his life, failetl him for the first 
 time. The poverty-stricken street, the squalid 
 mob round the door, swam before his eyes. 
 He stagfjered back, and caught at the iron 
 I'ailings of the house behind himl 
 
 " Where are the}- taking her to V" he heard 
 a woman ask, close at his side. 
 
 " To the hospital, if they will have her," 
 was the reply. " And to the work-house, ii' 
 they won't." 
 
 That horrible answer roused him. He 
 pushed his way through the crowd and en- 
 tered the house. 
 
 The misunderstanding on the pavement 
 had been set right, and otie of the cabs Uatl 
 driven off. As he crossed the threshold of 
 the door he confronted the people of the 
 house at the moment when they wera moving 
 her. The cabman who had remained wa« on 
 one side of the chair, and the woman who 
 had been disputing with the two drivers was 
 on the other. They were just lifting her 
 when Kirke's t-all figure darkened the door. 
 
 " What are you doing with that lady ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 The cabman looked up with the insolence 
 of his reply visible in his eyes before his lips 
 could utter it. But the woman, quicker than 
 he, saw the suppressed agitation in Kirke's 
 face, and dropped her hold of the chair in an 
 instant. 
 
 " Do you know her. Sir ?" asked the wom- 
 an, eagerly. " Are you one of her friends ?" 
 . " Yes," said Kirke, without hesitation. 
 
 " It 's not my fault, Sir," pleaded the wom- 
 an, shrinking under the look he fixed on her. 
 " I would have waited patiently till her friends 
 found her — I would, indeed I" 
 
 Kirke made no reply. He turned ami 
 spoke to the cabman. 
 
 " Go ont," he said, " and close the door 
 after you. I '11 send you down your money 
 directly. What room in the house did yon 
 take her from when you brought her down 
 here ?" he resumed, addressing himself to the 
 woman again. 
 
 " The first floor back, Sir." 
 
 " Show m0 the way to it." 
 
 He stooped and lifted Magdalen in his 
 arms. Her head rested gently on the sailor's 
 breast ; her eyes looke-d up wonderingly into 
 the sailor's face. She smiled, and •yvhispered 
 t« him ■•acantly. Her mind had wandered 
 back to old days at home, and her few broken 
 words .showed that she fancied herself a chiM 
 again in her father's anus. " Poor papa !" 
 she said, soflly. " Why do you look so sorry V 
 Poor papa !" 
 
 The woman led the way into the back 
 room on the first floor. It was very small ; it 
 was n»serably furnished. But the little bed 
 was clean, and the few things in the room 
 were neatly kept. Kirke laid her tenderly on 
 
264 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 the bed. She caught one of his hamls in her 
 burning fingers. " Don't distress mamma 
 about me," uhe said. " Send for Norah." 
 Ivirke tried gently to release her hand ; but 
 she only clasped it the more eagerly. He sat 
 down by the bedside to wait until it pleased 
 her to release him. The woman stood look- 
 ing at them, and crying in a corner of the 
 room. Kirke observed her attentively. — 
 " Speak," he said, after an interval, in low, 
 quiet tones. " Speak in her presence, and 
 tell me the truth." 
 
 With many words, with many tears, the 
 woman spoke. 
 
 She had let her first floor to the lady a fort- 
 tiight since. The lady had paid a week's 
 rent, and had given the name of Gray. She 
 had been oiit from morning till night for the 
 first three days, and had come home again on- 
 every occasion with a wretchedly weary, dis- 
 appointed looft. The woman of the house 
 had suspected that she was in hiding from her 
 friends under a false name, and that she had 
 been vainly trying to raise ifloney,,or to get 
 some employment, on the three days when 
 she was out for so long, and when she looked 
 so disappointed on coming home. Ho^uever 
 that might be, on the fourth day she had fall- 
 en ill with shivering fits and hot fits, turn and 
 turn about. On the fifth day she was worse ; 
 and on the sixth she was too sleepy at one 
 time, and too light-headed at another, to be 
 spoken to. The chemist (who did the doctor- 
 ing in thos« parts) had come and looked at 
 her, and had said he thought it was a bad 
 fever. He had left a "saline draught," which 
 the woman of the house had paid for out of 
 her own pocket, and had administered with- 
 out effect. She had ventured on searching 
 the only box which the lady had brought with 
 her, and had found nothing in it but a few 
 necessary articles of linen — no dresses, no 
 ornaments, not so much a? the fragment of a 
 letter which might help in discovering her 
 friends. Between the risks- of keeping her 
 under these circumstances, and the barbarity 
 of turning a sick woman into the streets, the 
 landlady herself had not hesitated. She A^'ould 
 willingly have kept her tenant on the chance 
 of the lady's recovery, and on the chance of 
 friends turning up. But not half an hour 
 since her husband — who never came near 
 the house except to take her money — had 
 come to rob her of her little earnings, as 
 usual. She had been obliged to tell him that 
 no rent was in hand for the first floor, and 
 that none was likely to be in hand nntil the 
 lady recovered or her friends found her. On 
 hearing this, he had mercilessly insisted — 
 well or ill — that the lady should go. There 
 was the hospital to take her to ; and if the 
 hospital shut its doors, there was the work- 
 house to try next. If she was not out of the 
 place in an hour's time he threatened to come 
 oack and take her out himself His wife 
 knew but too well that he was brute enough 
 
 to be as good as his word ; and. no other choice 
 had been left her but to do as she had done, 
 for the sake of the lady herself. 
 
 The woman told her shocking story with 
 every appearance of being honestly ashamed 
 of it. Toward the end Kirke felt the clasp of 
 the burning fingers slackening round his hand. 
 He looked back at the bed again. Her weary 
 eyes were closing, and, with her face still 
 turned towaj:d the sailor, she was sinking into 
 sleep. 
 
 '' Is there any one. in the front room ?" said 
 Kirke, in a whisper. " Come in there ; I have 
 something to say to you." 
 
 The woman followed him through the door 
 of communication between the rboms. 
 
 " How much does she owe you '?" he asked. 
 
 The landlady mentioned the sum. Kirke 
 put it down before her on the table. 
 
 "Where is your husband?" was his next 
 question.' . , 
 
 " Waiting at the public house. Sir, till the 
 hour is up." 
 
 " You can take him the money or not, as 
 you think right," said Kirke, quietly. " I have 
 only one thing to tell you, so far as your hus- 
 band is concerned. If you want to see every 
 bone in his skin broken, let him come to the 
 house while I am in it. Stop ! I have some- 
 thing more to say. Do you know of any 
 doctor in the neighborhood who can be de- 
 pended on ?" 
 
 "Not in our neighborhood, • Sir. But I 
 know of one within half an hour's walk of 
 
 Uf." 
 
 " Take the cab at the door, and if you find 
 him at home bring him back in it. Say I am 
 waiting here for his opinion on a very serious 
 case. He shall be well paid, and you shall be 
 well paid. Make haste !" 
 
 The woman left the room. 
 
 Kirke sat down alone to wait for her re- 
 turn. He hid his face in his hands, and tried 
 to realize the strange and touching situation 
 in which the accident of a moment had placed 
 him. 
 
 Hidden in the squalid by-ways of London, 
 under a false name — cast, friendless and help- 
 less, on the mercy of strangers by illness 
 which had struck her prostrate, mind and 
 body alike — so he met her again, the woman 
 who had opened a new world of beauty to his 
 mind — the woman who had called Love to 
 life in him by a look ! .What horrible misfor- 
 tune had struck her so cruelly, and struck her 
 so low ■? What mysterious destiny had guided 
 him to the last refuge of her poverty and 
 despair in the hour of her sorest need ? " If 
 it is ordered that I am to see her again, I shall 
 see her." Those words came back to him . 
 now — the memorable words that he had 
 spoken to his sister at parting. With that 
 thought in his heart he had gone where his 
 duty waited for him. Months and months 
 had passed ; thousands and thousands of miles, 
 protracting their desolate length on the un- 
 
:no name. 
 
 2$5 
 
 resting waters, had rolled between them. And ' 
 through the lapse of time, and over "the waste 
 of oceans, day after day, and night after 
 night, as the winds of heaven blew, and the 
 good ship toiled on before them, he had ad- 
 vanced nearer and nearer to the end that 
 was waiting for him — he had journeyed blind- j 
 fold to the meeting on the threshold of that i 
 miserable door. "What has brought me i 
 here ?" he said to himself in a whisper. " The 
 mercy of chance ? No ! The, mercy of God." 
 
 He waited, nnregardful of the place, un- 
 conscious of the time, until the sound of foot- 
 steps on the stairs came suddenly between 
 him and his thoughts. The door opened, and 
 the doctor was shown into the room. 
 
 " Dr. Merrick," said the landlady, placing 
 a chair for him. 
 
 "-il/r. Merrick," said the visitor, smiling 
 quietly as he took thtj chair. " I am not a 
 physician — T am a surgeon jn general prac- 
 tice." 
 
 Physician or surgeon, there wa^ something 
 in his face and manner which told Kirke at a 
 glance that he was a man to be relied on. 
 
 After a few preliminary words on either 
 side, Mr. IMerrick sent the landlady into th.e 
 bedroom to see if his patient was awake or 
 asleep. The woman returned, and said she 
 was " betwixt the two, light in the head 
 again, and burning hot." The doctor went 
 at once into the bedroom, telling the landlady 
 to follow him, and to close the door behind 
 her. 
 
 A weary time passed before he came back 
 into the front room. When he reappeared 
 his face spoke for him before any question 
 could be asked. 
 
 " Is it a serious illness V" said Kirke, his 
 voice sinking low, his eyes anxiously fixed on 
 the doctor's face. 
 
 . " It is a dangerous illness," said Mr. Mer- 
 rick, with an emphasis on the word. 
 
 He drew his chair nearer to Kirke, and 
 looked at him attentively. 
 
 " May 1 ask you some questions which are 
 not strictly medical V" he inquired. 
 , Kirke bowed. 
 
 " Csn you tell me what her life has been 
 before she came into this house, afld before 
 she fell ill?" 
 
 " I have no means of knowing. I have 
 just returned to England after a long ab- 
 sence." 
 
 " Did you know of her coming htre ?" 
 
 '• I only discovered it by accident." 
 
 '' Has she no female relations ? No mother ? 
 ' no sister? no one to take care of h«r .but 
 yourself?" 
 
 " No one — unless I can succeed in tracing 
 her relations. No one but myself." 
 
 Mr. Merrick was silent. He looked at Kirke 
 
 more attentively than ever. " Strange ! " 
 
 thought the doctor. " He is here in sole 
 
 charge of her — and is this all he knows V " 
 
 Kirke saw the doubt in his face, and ad- 
 
 84 
 
 dressed himself straight to that doubt before 
 another word passed between them. 
 
 " I see my position here surprises you," he 
 said simply. " Will you consider it the posi- 
 tion of a relation — the position of her broth- 
 er, or her father — until her friends can be 
 found ?" His voice faltered, and he laid his 
 hand earnestly on the doctor's arm. "I have 
 taken this trust on myself," he said ; " and, as 
 God shall judge me, T will not be unworthy 
 of It!" ■ "^ ■ " 
 
 The poor weary head lay on his breast 
 a^ain, and Che poor fevered fingers clasped 
 his hand once more as he spoke those words. 
 
 " I believe you," said the doctor, warmly. 
 " I believe you are an honest man. Pardon 
 me if 1 have seemed to Intrude myself on 
 your confidence. I respect your reserve — 
 from this moment it is sacred to me. In jus- 
 tice to both of" us, let me say that the ques- 
 tions I have asked were not prompted by 
 mere curio.<ity. No common cause will ac- 
 count for the illness which has laid my patient 
 on that bed. She has suffered some long- 
 continued mental trial — some wearing and 
 terrible suspense, and she has broken down 
 under it. It might have helped me if I could 
 have known what the nature of the trial was, 
 and how long or how short a time elapsed 
 before she sank under it. In that hope I 
 spoke." 
 
 " When you told me she was dangerously 
 ill," said Kirke, " did you mean danger to her 
 reason or to her life ?" 
 
 "To both," replied Mr. Merrick. "Her 
 whole nervous system has given way ; all the 
 ordinary functions of her brain are in a "state 
 of collapse. I can give you no plainer expla- 
 nation than that of the nature of the malady. 
 The fever which frightens the people of the 
 house is merely the effect. The cause is what 
 I have told you. .She may lie on that bed for 
 weeks to come — passing alternately, without 
 a gleam of consciousness, from a state of de- 
 lirium to a state of repose. You must not be 
 alarmed if you find her sleep lasting far be- 
 yond the natural time' That sleep i»a better, 
 remedy than any I <an give, and nothing 
 must disturb it. All our art can accomphsn 
 is to watch her — to help her with stimulante 
 from time to time — and to viait for what 
 Nature will do." 
 
 " Must she remain here V la there no hope 
 of our being able to move her to a better 
 place V" 
 
 " No hope whatever for the present. She 
 has already been disturbed, as I understand, 
 and'she is seriously the worse for it. Even if 
 she gets better, even if she cpmes to herself 
 again, it would still be a dangerous experiment 
 to move her too soon — the least excitement 
 or alarm would be fatal to her. You must 
 make the best of this place as it is. The land- 
 lady has my directions, and I will send a good 
 nurse to help her. There is nothing more to 
 be done. So far as her life can be said to be 
 
266 . 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 in any human hands, it is as much in your 
 hands now as in mine'. Everything depends 
 on the care that is taken of her, under your 
 direction, in this house." With those fare- 
 well words he rose and quitted the room. 
 
 Left by himself, Kirke walked to the door 
 of communication, and knocking at it softly 
 told the landlady he wished to speak to her. 
 
 He was far more composed, far more like 
 his own resolute self, after his interview with 
 the doctor than he had been before it. A 
 man living in the artificial social atmosphere 
 which this man had never breathed would 
 have felt painfully the worldly side of the sit- 
 uation — its novelty and strangeness, the 
 serious present difhcult}'^ in which it placed 
 him, the numberless misinterpretations in the 
 future to which it might lead. Kirke never 
 gave the situation a thought. He saw noth- 
 ing but the duty it claimed from him — a duty 
 which the doctor's farewell words had put 
 plainly before his mind. Everything depend- 
 ed on the care taken of her, under his direc- 
 tion, in that house. Tht;re was his responsi- 
 bility, and he unconsciously acted under it 
 exactly as he would have acted in a case of 
 emergency with women and children on board 
 his own ship. He questioned the landlady in 
 short, sharp sentences ; the only change in 
 him was in the lowered tone of his voice, 
 and in the anxious looks which he cast, from 
 time to time, at the room where she lay. 
 
 " Do you understand what the doctor has 
 told you y" 
 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 " The house must be kept quiet. Who live§ 
 in the house ?" 
 
 " Only me and my daughter, Sir ; we live 
 in the parlors. Times have gone badly with 
 us since Lady-Day. Both the rooms above 
 tliis are to let." 
 
 " I will take them both, and the two rooms 
 down here as well. Do' you know of any ac- 
 tive, trustworthy man who can run on errands 
 for me V" 
 
 " Yes, Sir. Shall I go — '?" 
 
 " No. Let your daughter go. You must 
 not leave the house till the nurse comes. 
 Don't send the messenger up here. Men of 
 that sort tread heavily. I '11 go down and 
 speak to him ^t the door." '* 
 
 He went down when the messenger came, 
 and sent him first, to purchase jxen, ink, and 
 paper. The man's next errand dispatched 
 him to make inquii'ies for a person who could 
 provide for deadening the sound of passing 
 wheels in the street by laying down tan be- 
 fore the house in the usual way. This object 
 accomplished, the messenger received two 
 letters to post. The first was addressed to 
 Kirke's brother-in-law. It told him, in few 
 and plain words, what had happened, and left 
 him to 'break the news to his wife as he 
 thought best. The second letter .was directed 
 to the landlord of the Aldborough hotel. 
 Magdalen's assumed namo at North Shingles 
 
 was the only name by which Kirke knew her ; 
 and the one chance of tracing her relatives , 
 that he could discern was the chance of dis- 
 covering her reputed uncle and aunt by 
 means of inquiries starting from Aldborough. 
 
 Toward the close of the afternoon a decent, 
 middle-aged woman t;ame to the house with a 
 letter from Mr. Merrick. She was well known 
 to the doctor as a trustworthy and careful 
 person, who had nursed his own wife ; and she 
 would be assisted from time to time by a lady 
 who was a member of a religious Sisterhood 
 in the district, and whose compassionate in- 
 terest had been warmly aroused in the case. 
 Toward eight o'clock that evening the doctor 
 himself would call, and see that his patient 
 wanted for nothing. 
 
 The arrival of the nurse, and the relief of 
 knowing that she was to be trusted, left Kirke 
 free to think of himself. His luggage was 
 ready packed for his contemplated journey to 
 Suffolk the next day. It was merely neces- 
 sary to transport it from the hotel to the house 
 in Aaron's Buildings. 
 
 He stopped once only on his way to ,the 
 hotel to look at a toyshop iri one of the great 
 thoroughfares. The miniature ships in the 
 window reminded him of his nephew. ' " My 
 little namesake will be sadly disappointed at 
 not seeing me to-morrow," he thought. "I 
 must make it up to the boy by sending him 
 something from his uncle." He went into the 
 shop and bought one of the ships. It was se- 
 cured in a box, and packed and directed in 
 his presence. He put a card on the deck of 
 the miniature vessel before the cover of the 
 box was nailed on, bearing this inscription : 
 " A ship for the little sailor — with the big 
 sailor's love." " Children like to be written 
 to, ma'am," he said, apologetically, to the 
 woman behind the Counter. " Send the box 
 as soon as you can. I am anxious the boy 
 should get it to-morrow." , , 
 
 Toward the dusk of the evening he returned 
 with his luggage to Aaron's Buildings. He 
 took ofi" his boots in the passage, and carried 
 his trunk up stairs himself, stopping, as he 
 passed the first floor, to make his inquiries. 
 Mr. Merrick was present to answer them. 
 
 " She ^as awake, and Avandering," he said, 
 " a few minutes since. But we have succeeded 
 in composing her, and she is sleeping now." 
 
 " H^ve no words escaped her. Sir, which 
 might help us to find her friends V" ' 
 
 The doctor shook his head. 
 
 " Weeks and weeks may pass yet," he said, 
 " and that poor gii'i's story may still be a sealed 
 secret to all of us. We can only wait." 
 
 So the day ended — the first of many days 
 that were to come. . 
 
 chaptAi II. 
 
 The warm sunlight of July shining softly 
 through a green blind ; an open window with 
 fresh rtowers set on the sill ; a strange bed in 
 
 
NO NAAIK. 
 
 iti; 
 
 a straijgo rooui ; a giaui (igiu-c of tlir fomale 
 sex (like a dream ol' Mrs. Wragge) loweriug 
 aloft ou one side of the bed, and frying to claj) 
 its hands ; another woman (_a stranger) stop- 
 ping the hands before they conld make any 
 noise; a mild, expostulating voiee (like a dream 
 of Mrs. Wragge again) breaking the. silenee in 
 these words : " She knows me, ma'am, slie 
 knows me ; if I mustn't be happy it will be 
 the death of me !" — sueh were tho first sights, 
 such were the first souud.s <o whieh, after six 
 weeks of oblivion, Magdalen suddenly and 
 strangely awoke. 
 
 After a little tlie sights grew dim again, and 
 the sounds ftank into silence. Sleep, the mer- 
 ciful, took her once more, and hushed hei- back 
 to repose. 
 
 Another day. and the sights were dearer, 
 the sounds were louder. Another, and she 
 heard a man's voice through the door, asking 
 for news from the sick-room. The voice was 
 strange to her ; it was always cautiously low- 
 ered to the same (piiet tone. It inquired after 
 her in the morning when she awoke, at noon 
 when she took her refreshment, in the evening 
 before she dropped to sleep again. "Who is 
 so an.Kious about me?" That was the first 
 thought her mind was strong enough to form : 
 " W'ho is so anxious about me V" 
 
 More days — and she could speak to the 
 nurse at her bedside ; she could answer the 
 questions of an elderly man, who knew far 
 more about her thaft she knew about herself, 
 and who told her he was Mr. Merrick, the 
 doctor ; she could sit up in bed supported by 
 pillows, wondering what had happened to her, 
 and where she was; she could feel a growing 
 curiosity about that quiet voice, which still 
 asked after her, morning, noon, and night, ou 
 the other side of the door. 
 
 Another day's delay — and Mr. Merrick 
 asked her if she was strong enough to see an 
 old friend. A meek voice behind him, articu- 
 lating 'high in the air, said, "It 's only me !" 
 The voice was followed by the prodigious 
 bodily apparition of Mrs. Wragge, with her 
 cap all awry, and one of her shoes in the next 
 room. " Oh, look at her ! look at her !" cried 
 Mrs. Wragge, in an ecstacy, dropping on her* 
 knees at Magdalen'.? bedside, with a thump 
 that shook the house. " Bless her heart, she's 
 well enough to laugli af me already. ' Cheer, 
 boys, cheer — !' I beg your pardon, doctor, 
 my conduct isn't lady -like, I know. It *s mj' 
 head. Sir ; it isn't me. I must get vent some- 
 how, or my head will burst!" No coherent 
 sentence, in answer to anj- sort of question 
 put to her, could be extracted that morning 
 from Mrs. Wragge. She ro.se from one climax 
 of verbal confusion to another, and finished 
 her visit under the bed, groping inscrutably 
 for the second shoe. 
 
 The morrow came, and Mr. Merrick prom- 
 ised that she should see another old fiiend on 
 the next day. In the evening, when the in- 
 quiring voice" a.sked after her. as usual, and 
 
 when the duor was upenwl a few ineiies to givK 
 the reply, she answered faintly for herself: " I 
 am better, thank you." There was a moment 
 of silence; and then, just as the door was shut 
 again, the voio<! sank to a whisper, and .said, 
 fervently, " Thank God ! " Who was he V 
 She had asked them all, and no one would tell 
 her. Who was he V 
 
 Tlie next day came, and she heard Uer door 
 opened softly. Brisk footsteps tripped into 
 the room ; a lithe little figure advanced to tlie 
 bedside. Was it a dream again ? No ! There 
 he was in his own evergreen reality, with.the 
 copious flow of language pouring smoothly 
 from his lips ; with the lambent dasli of humor 
 twinkling in his parti-colored eyes, there he 
 was, more audacious, more persuasive, more 
 respectable than ever; in a suit of glossy 
 black, with a speckless white cravat, and a 
 rampant shirt-frill— the unblushing, the invin- 
 cible, tlie unchangeable Wragge ! 
 
 " Not a word, my dear girl !" said the cap- 
 tain, seating himself comfortably at the bed- 
 side. In his old confidential way. " I am to 
 do all the talking ; and I think you will own 
 that a more competent man for the purpo.se 
 could not po.ssibly have been found. I am 
 really delighted — honestly delighted, if I may 
 use sueh an apparently inapprojiriate word — 
 to see you again, and to see you getting well. 
 I have often thought of you ; I have oflen 
 missed you ; I have often said to my.sclf — 
 never mind what ! Clear the stage, and drop 
 the curtain on .the past. Dum vivimus, viva- 
 mus ! Pardon the pedantry of a Latin quota- > 
 tion, my dear, and tell me how I look. Am 
 I, or am I not, the picture of a prosperous 
 man V" 
 
 Magdalen attempted to answer him. The 
 captain's deluge of words flowed over her 
 again in a moment. 
 
 " Don't exert yourself," he said. " I '11 put 
 all your questions for you. What have I been 
 about? Why do I look so remarkably well 
 off? And how in the world did I find iby 
 way to this house ? My dear girl, I have been 
 occupied, since we last saw each other, in 
 slightly modifying my old professional habits. 
 I have shifted from Moral Agriculture to 
 Medical Agriculture. Formerly I preyed on 
 the public sympathy ; now I prey on the 
 public stomach. Stomach and sympathv. 
 sympathy and stomach — look them both fairly 
 in the face when you reach the wrong side of 
 fifty, and you will agree with me that they 
 come to much the same thing. However that 
 may be, here I am — incrediljle a,s it may ap- 
 pear — a man with an income, at last. The 
 founders of my fortune are three in number. 
 Their names are Alo<'8, Scammony, and Gam- 
 boge. In plainer words, I am now living — on 
 a Pill. I made a little money (if you remem« 
 ber) by mv friendly connection with you. I 
 made a little more by the happy decease 
 (Rcquiescat in Pace .') of that female relative 
 of Mrs. Wragge 's from whom, as I told you. 
 
268 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 my wife had expectations. Very good. What 
 do you think I did '? I invested the whole of 
 my capital at one fell swoop in advertisements, 
 and purchased my drugs and iliy pill-boxes on 
 credit. The result is now before you. Here 
 I am, a Grand Financial Fact. Here I am, 
 with my clothes positively paid for; with a 
 balance at my banker's ; with my servant in 
 livery, and my gig at the door; solvent, flour- 
 ishing, popular — and itll on a Pill." 
 
 Magdalen smiled. The captain's face as- 
 sumed an expression of mock gravity; he 
 looked as if there was a serious side to the 
 question, and as if he meant to put it next. 
 
 " It 's no lailghing matter to the public, my 
 dear," he said. " They can't get rid of me 
 and my Pill — the}^ must take us; There ' is 
 not a single form of appeal in the whole range I 
 of human advertisements which I am not j 
 making to the unfortunate public at this mo- i 
 ment. Hire the last new novel — there I am, j 
 inside the boarfls of the book. S«nd for the , 
 last new Song — the instant you open the f 
 leaves I drop out of it. Take a cab — I fly in 
 at the window in red. Buy a box of tooth- 
 powder at the chemist's — I wrap it up for you 
 m blue. Show yourself at the theatre — I 
 flutter down on you in yellow. The mere 
 titles of my adveitisements are quite irresist- j 
 ible. Let me quote a few from last week's j 
 issue. Proverbial Title : ' A Pill in Time 
 saves Nine.' Familiar Title : ' Excuse me, 
 how is your Stomach '?' Patriotic Title : ; 
 ' What are the three characteristics of a true- 1 
 born Englishman ? His Hearth, his Home, 1 
 and his Pill.' Title in the form of a nursery ! 
 dialogue : ' Mamma, I am not well.' ' What | 
 is the matter, my pet ?' ' I want a little Pill.' \ 
 Title in the form of a Historical Anecdote : 
 ' New Discovery in the Mine of English His- 
 tory. When the Princes were smothered in 
 the Tower, their faithful attendant collected 
 all the little possessions left behind them. 
 Among the touching trifles dear to the poor 
 boys he found a tiny Box. It contained the 
 Pill of the Period. Is it necessary to sa}' how 
 inferior that Pill was to its Modern Successor, 
 which prince and peasant alike may now ob- 
 tain — ' Et cetera, et -cetera. The place in 
 which my Pill is made is an advertisement in 
 itself I have got one of the largest shops in 
 London. Behind one counter (visible to the 
 public through the lucid medium of plate - 
 glass) .are four -and -twenty young men, in 
 white aprons, making the Pill. Behind an- 
 other counter are foiir - and - twenty young 
 men, in white cravats, making the boxes. At 
 the bottom of the shop are three elderly ac- 
 countants posting the vast financial transac- 
 tions accruing from the Pill in three enormous 
 ledgers. Over the door are my name, por- 
 trait, and autograph, expanded to colossal 
 proportions, and surrounded In flowing letters 
 by the motto of the establishment : ' Down 
 with the Doctors !' Even Mrs. Wragge con- 
 tributes her quota to this prodigious enter- 
 
 prise. She is the celebrated woman whom I 
 have cured of ihdescribable agonies from ever}- 
 complaint under the sun. Her portrait is en- 
 graved on all the wrappers, with the following 
 mscription beneath it : ' Before she took the 
 Pill you might have blown this patient away 
 with a feather. Look at her now ! ! !' Last, 
 not least, my dear girl, the Pill is the cause of 
 my finding my way to this house. My depart- 
 ment in the prodigious Enterprise already 
 mentioned is tO' scour the United Kingdom 
 in a gig, establishing Agencies everywhere. 
 While founding one of these Agencies I heard 
 of a certain friend of mine, who had lately 
 landed in England after a long sea-voyage. I 
 got his address in London — he was a lodger in 
 this house. I called on him forthwith, and 
 was stunned by the news of your illness. 
 Such, in brief, is. the history of my existing 
 connection with British Medicine ; and so it 
 happens that you see me at the present mo- 
 ment sitting in tlie present chair, now as ever, 
 yours truly, Horatio Wrag*e," . 
 
 In these terms the captain brought hig per- 
 sonal statement to a close. He looked more 
 and more attentively at Magdalen the neafer 
 he got to the conclusion. Was there some 
 latent importance attaching to his last words 
 which did . not appear on the face of them V 
 There was. His visit to the sick-room had a 
 serious obje(-t, and that object he had now , 
 approached. 
 
 In describing the circumsitances under which 
 he had become acquainted with Magdalen's 
 present position Captain Wragge had skirted, 
 with hi« customary dextei-ity, round the i-emote 
 boundaries of truth. Emboldened by the ab- 
 sence of any jjublic scandal in connection with 
 Noel Vanstone's marriage, or with the event 
 of his death as announced in the newspaper 
 obituary, the captain, roaming the eastern cir- 
 cuit, had ventured back to Aldborough a fort- 
 night since, to establish an agency there for 
 the sale of his wonderful Pill. No one had 
 recognized him but the landlad}- of the hotel, 
 who at once insisted on his entering the house 
 and reading Kirke's letter to her husband. 
 The same night Captain Wragge was in Lon- 
 don, and was closeted with the- sailor, in the 
 second-floor room at Aaron's Buildings. 
 
 The serious natui-e of the situation, the in- 
 disputable certainty that Kirke must fail in 
 tracing Magdalen's friends, unless he first knew 
 who she really was, had decided the captain 
 on disclosing pai't, at "least, of the truth. De- 
 cHning to enter into any particulars — for 
 family reasons, which Magdalen might explain 
 on her recovery, if she pleased — he astounded 
 Kirke by telling him that the friendless woman 
 whom he had rescnied, and whom he had only 
 known up to that moment as Miss Bygrave, 
 was no other than, the youngest daughter of 
 Andrew Vanstone, The disclosure, on Kirke's 
 side, of his father's; connection with the young 
 officer in Canada Had followed naturally on 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 269 
 
 the revelation of Magdalen's real name. Cap- 1 
 tain Wragge had expressed his surprise, but 
 had made no further remark at the time. A j 
 fortnight later, ho-wever, when the patient's I 
 recovery forced the serious difHculty on the ; 
 doctor of meeting the questions AVhich Mag- 
 dalen was sure to ask, the captain's ingenuity | 
 had come, as usual, to the re.'^cue. i 
 
 " You can't tell her the truth," he said, '■ 
 •• without awakening painful recollections of 
 her stay at Aldborough, into which I am hot 1 
 at liberty to enter. Don't acknowledge just , 
 yet that Mr. Kirke only knew her as Miss j 
 Bygrave of North Shingles wh(>n he found her 
 ill this house. Tell her boldly that he knew 
 who she was, and that he lelt (what she must j 
 feel) that he had a hereditary right to help 
 and protect her as his father's son. 1 am, as i 
 1 have already told you." continued the caj)- i 
 tjain. sticking fast to his old assertion, ;' a dis- 
 tant relative of the Combe-Iiaven family ; and 
 if there is nobody else at hand to heli> }OU 
 through this difliculty, my services are freely 
 at your disposal." 
 
 No one else was at hanti, and the emergency 
 was a serious one. Strangers undertaking the 
 responsibility might ignorantly jar on past rw- 
 olleetions, which it M'onld. jierhaps, be the 
 death of her to revive too soon. Near rela- 
 tives nright, by their premature ap])earance at 
 the bedside, produee the ^iunt' deplorable re- 
 sult. The alternative lay between irritating 
 and alarming her by leaving her incjuiries un- 
 answered, or trusting Captain Wragge. In 
 the doctor's opinion, the second risk was the 
 least serious risk of the two : and the caj)tain 
 was now seated at Magdah-n's l)e<lside in dis- 
 charge of the trust confided tu him.. 
 
 Would she iisk the (juestiou which ii bad 
 been the private object of all Captain Wragge's 
 preliminary talk lightly and j)leasantly to pro- 
 voke y Yes : as soon as his silence gave her the 
 opportunity she asked it : Who was that friend 
 of his living in the house V 
 
 "You ought by rights to know hint as well 
 as I do," said the captain. "He is the son of 
 one of your father's old military friends, when 
 your father waj;([uartered with hi.s regiment in 
 Canada. Your cheeks mustn't flusli u|). If 
 they do, I shall gv) away." 
 
 She was astonished, but not agitated. Cap- 
 tain Wragge had begun by interesting her in 
 the remote past, which she only knyw by hear- 
 say, before he ventured on the <ieli<ate groimd 
 of her own experience. 
 
 In a moment more she advanced to her next 
 question : What was his name ? 
 
 "Kirke," proceeded the captain. "Did you 
 never hear of his father. Major Kirke, com- 
 manding officer of the regiment in Canada '/ 
 Did you never hear that the major helped your 
 father through a great difficulty, like the best 
 of gootl fellows and good friends':*" 
 
 Yes ; she faintly fancied she had heard some- 
 thing about her father and an officer who had 
 
 once been very good to him when he was a 
 young man. But she could not look back so 
 long. Was Mr. Kirke poor ? 
 
 Even Captain Wragge's penetration was 
 puzzled by that qiiestion. He gare the true 
 answer at hazard. "No," he said, "not poor." 
 
 Her next in(piiry showed what she had been 
 thinking of If ]\lr. Kirke was not poor, why 
 did he come to live in that house"? 
 
 "She has caught me !" thought the captain. 
 "There is only one way Out of it; I must ad- 
 minister another dose ol^ truth. Mr. Kirke dis- 
 covered you here by chance," he proceeded 
 aloud, "very ill, and not nicely attended ta. 
 Somebody \/as wanted to take care of yoU(|prhile 
 you were not able to take care of yourself. 
 Why notAb". Kirke "? He was the son of your 
 father's old friend, which is. the next' thing tq 
 being t/om- old friend. Who had a better claii# 
 to send for the right doctor and get the right 
 nurse, wiien 1 was not here to cure you with 
 my woiuierfid Till ? Gently I gently I you 
 mustn't take hold of my superfine black coat 
 sleeve in that umeremonious manner." 
 
 He put lu-r hand back on the bed ; but she 
 was not to be checked in that way. She per- 
 sisted In asking another question. How 
 came ]\Ir. ivirke to know herV She had 
 never s<*t'n him : she had never heard of him 
 in her life. 
 
 " Very likely," said the captain. " But 
 your never having .seen him is no reason why 
 he should not have seen >^ou-" 
 
 " When did he see me '?" 
 
 Captain Wragge corked up his doses of 
 truth on the spot without a moment's hesita- 
 tion. 
 
 " Some time ago, my dear. I ean't exactly 
 say when." 
 
 " Onlv once T' 
 
 Captain Wragge suddenly saw. his way to 
 the administration of another dose. " ^'e»," 
 he sukl. " Only onee." 
 
 •She reflected a little. The next question 
 luvolvi'd the simultaneous e.xpression of two 
 ideas — and the next question cost her an 
 eilbrf. 
 
 '^ He only .siw me once," she said ; " aud 
 he only saw nu' some time agfi. How came 
 he to remember me when he fouml me here '?" 
 
 " Aha!" .'iaid the captain. " Now. you have 
 hit the right nail on the head at 1a?t. You 
 can't po.^slbly be more .-surprised af diis re- 
 membering you than I am. .\. word ofJidrice, 
 my dear. When you are well enough to get 
 up and see Mr. Kirke. try how that sharp 
 question of yours sounds in hui ears — and 
 insist on his answering it himself." Slipping 
 out of the dilemma in that characterisiticallv 
 adroit manner. Captain Wragge got brisklv 
 on his legs again and took up his hat. 
 
 "Wait!" she pleaded. "I want to ask 
 you — " 
 
 " Not another wDrd." ttaid the captain. I 
 have given vou quit« enough to think of for 
 one day. My time is up, and my gig is wait- 
 
270 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 ing for me. I am off to scour the country as 
 usual. I am ofT to cultivate the field of pub- 
 lic indigestion with tlie triple ploughshare of 
 aloes, scammony, and gamboge." He stopped, 
 and turned round at the door. "By the by, 
 H message from my unfortunate wife. If you 
 will allow her to come and see you again, 
 Mrs. Wragge solemnly promises nut to lose 
 her shoe next time. / don't believe her. 
 What do you say ? May she come V" 
 
 "Yes; whenever she likes," said Magda- 
 len. " If I ever get well again, may poor 
 Mrs. Wragge come and stay with me ?" 
 
 " Certainly, my dear. If you have no ob- 
 jectii^n, I will provide her beforehand with a 
 few thousand impressions in red, blue, and 
 yellow of her own portrait (' You might have 
 blown this patient away with a feather before 
 she took the Pill. Look at her now!'). She 
 is sure to drop herself about perpetually 
 wherever she goes, and the most gratifying 
 results, in an advertising point of view, must 
 inevitably follow. Don't think me mercenary. 
 I merely understand the age I live in." He 
 stopped on his way out for the second time, 
 and turned round once more at the door. 
 " You have been a remarkably good girl," he 
 said, " and you deserye to l^e rewarded for it. 
 T '11 give you a last piec?"of information be- 
 fore I go. Have you heard anybody inquiring 
 after you, for the last day or two, outside your 
 door ? Ah, I see you have. A word in your 
 ear, my dear. That 's Mr. Kirke." He trip- 
 ped away from the bedside as briskly as ever. 
 Magdalen heard him advertising himself to the 
 nurse before he closed the door. " If you are 
 ever asked about it," he said, in a confiden- 
 tial whisper, "the name is Wragge; and the 
 Pip is to be hfyl in neat boxes, price thirteen- 
 ])ence-halfpenny, government stamp included. 
 Take a few copies of the portrait of a female 
 ])atient whom you might have blown away 
 with a feather before she took the Pill', and 
 whom you are simply requested to contem- 
 plate now. Many thanks. (?oot?-morning." 
 
 The door closed, and Magdalen was alone 
 again. • She felt no sense of solitude ; Cap- 
 tain Wragge had left her with something new 
 to think of. Hour after hour her mind dwelt 
 wonderiugly on Mr. Kirke, until the evening 
 came and she heard his voice again through 
 the hair-opened door. 
 
 " I*am very grateful," she said to him, be- 
 ibre the nurse could answer Ijis inquiries — 
 " very, very grateful for all your kindness to 
 me." 
 
 "Try to get well," he replied, kindly. 
 _" You will more than reward me if you try to 
 get well." 
 
 The next morning Mr. Merrick found her 
 impatient to leave her bed and be moved to 
 the sofa in the front room. The doctor said 
 he supposed she wanted a change. "Yes," 
 she replied, " I want to see Mr. Kirke." The 
 
 d*ctor consented to move her on the next 
 day, but he positively forbade the additional 
 excitement of seeing anybod}- imtil the da} 
 after. She attempted a remonstrance — Mi-. 
 Merrick was impenetrable. She triedi when 
 he was gone, to win the nurse by persuasion 
 — the nurse was impenetrable too. 
 
 On the next day they wrapped her in 
 shawls and carried her in to the sofa, and 
 made her a little bed on it. On the table 
 near at hand were some flowers and a num- 
 ber of an illustrated newsjiaper. , She krime- 
 diately asked who had put them there. The 
 nurse (failing to notice a warning look from 
 the doctor) said Mr. Kirke had thought that 
 she might like the flowers, and that the pic- 
 tures in the paper might amuse her. Aller 
 that reply her anxiety to see Mr. Kirke be- 
 camc» too ungovernable to be trifled with. 
 The (loctoi- left the room at once to fetch him. 
 
 She looked eagerly at the opening dooj*. 
 Her fij-st glance at him as he came in raised a 
 doubt in her mind whether she now saw that 
 tall figure and that open, sunburnt face for 
 the first time. But she was too weak and too 
 agitated to follow her recollections as far 
 back as Aldborough. She resigned the at- 
 tempt, mid only looked at him. He stopped 
 at the foot of the sofa and said a few cheer- 
 ing words. She beckoned to him to come 
 nearer, and ort"ered him her wasted hand. He 
 tenderly took it in his, and sat down by her. 
 They were both silent. His face told her of 
 the sorrow and the sympathy which his si- 
 lence would fain have concealed. She still 
 held his hand — consciously now — as per- 
 sistently as she had held it on the day T*herf 
 he found her. Her eyes closed after a vain 
 effort to speak to him, and the tears rolled 
 slowly over her Avan white cheeks. 
 
 The doctor signed to Kirke to wait and 
 give her time. She recovered a little and 
 looked at him : " How kind you have been to 
 me!" she murmured. "And how little I have, 
 deserved it ! " , . 
 
 " Hush ! hush !" he said. " You don't know, 
 what a happiness it was to me to help you." 
 
 The sound of his voice seemed to strength- 
 en her, and to give her courage. She laj' 
 looking at him with an eager interest, with a 
 gratitude which artlessly ignored all the coa- 
 ventional restraints that interpose between a 
 woman and a man. " Where did you see me," 
 she said, suddenly, "before you found me 
 here ?" 
 
 Kirke hesitated. Mr. Merrick came to his 
 assistance. 
 
 " I forbid you to say a wOrd about the past 
 to Mr. Kirke," interposed the doctor ; " and I 
 forbid Mr. Kirke to say a word about it to 
 you. You are beginning a new life to-day ; 
 and the only recollections I sanction are rec- 
 ollections five minutes old." 
 
 She looked at the doctor and smiled. " I 
 must ask him one question," she said, and 
 
No a AUK 
 
 2?i 
 
 tlirned back again to Kirke. " Is it true that 
 you had only seen me once before you came 
 /'to this liouse ?" 
 
 " Quite true !" He made t^e reply with a 
 sudden change of color, which she instantly 
 detected. Her brightening eyes looked at 
 him more earnestly than ever as she put her 
 next question : ' 
 
 " How came you to remember me after only 
 seeing me once ?" 
 
 His hand unconsciously closed on hers, and 
 pressed it for the first time. He attempted 
 to answer, and hesitated at the first word. "I 
 have a good memory," he said at last, and 
 •suddenly looked away from her with a confu- 
 sion so strangely unlike his customary self- 
 possession of manner that the doctor and the 
 nurse both noticed it. 
 
 Every nerve in her body felt that momen- 
 tary pressure of his hand with the exquisite 
 susceptibility which' accompanies the first fal- 
 tering advance on the way to health. She 
 looked at. his changing color, she listened to 
 his hesitating words, with every sensitive per- 
 ception of her sex and age quickened to seize 
 intuitively on the truth. In the moment when 
 he looked away from her she gently took her 
 hand from him and turned her head aside on 
 the pillow. " Can it be ?" she thought, with a 
 Mutter of delicious fear at her heart, with a 
 glow of delicious confusion burning on her 
 cheeks. " Can it be V" 
 
 The doctor made another sign to Kirke. He 
 understood it, and rose immediately. The 
 momentary discomposure in his face and man- 
 ner had both disappeared. He was satisfied 
 in his own mind that he had successfully kept 
 his secret, and in the relief of feeling that 
 conviction he had become himself again. ' 
 
 " Good-by, till to-morrow," he said, as he 
 left the room. 
 
 " Good - by," she answered, softly, without 
 looking at him. 
 
 ^Ir. Merrick took the chair which Kirke 
 had resigned and laid his hand on her pulse. 
 " Just what I feared," remarked the doctor ; 
 " too quick by half" ' 
 
 , She petulantly snatched away her wrist. 
 ' Don't I" she said, shrinking back from him. 
 '' Pray don't touch mc !" 
 
 Mr. Merrick good - h.nraoredly gave up his 
 place to the nurse. " I '11 return in half an 
 nour," he whispered, *' and carry her back to 
 bed. Uon't let her talk. Show her the pic- 
 tures in the ncw.spaper, and keej) hei' quiet in 
 that way." 
 
 When the doctor returned the nur.sc reports 
 ed that the newspaper had not been wanted. 
 The patient's conduct -Jiad Ih'cu exemplary. 
 She had not been at all restless, and 5he had 
 never sjiokon a word. 
 
 The days passed, and the tini« grew longer I 
 and longer which the doctor allowed her to 
 spend in the front room. She was soon able 
 to dispense with the bed on the sofa — ."<hf ' 
 
 could be dressed, and could sit up, supported 
 by pillows, in an arm - chair. Her hours of 
 emancipation from the bedroom represented 
 the great daily event of her life. They wen- 
 the hours she passed in Kirke's society. 
 
 She had a double interest in him now — her 
 interest in the man whose nrotecting care had 
 saved her reason and her life ; her interest in 
 the man whose heart's dearest and deepest 
 secret she had surprised. Little by little tlicy 
 grew as easy and familiar with each other as 
 old friends ; little by little she presumed on 
 all her privileges, and wound her way unsus- 
 pected into the most intimate knowledge of 
 his nature. 
 
 Her (juestlons were endless. Everything- 
 that he could tell her of himself and his life 
 she drew from him, delicately and insensibly : 
 he, the least self-conscious of mankind, became 
 an egotist in her dextrous hands. She found 
 out his pride in his ship, and practiced on ir 
 without remor.se. She drew him into talking 
 of the fine qualities of the vessel, of the great 
 things the vessel haci done in emergencies, as , 
 he had never in his life talked yet to any liv- 
 ing ci-eature on shore. She found him out in 
 private seafaring anxieties and unutterable 
 seafaring exultations, which he had kept a 
 secret from his own mate. She watched his 
 kindling face with a delicious sense of triumjih 
 in adding fuel to the fire ; she trapped him 
 into forgetting all considerations of time and 
 place, and striking as hearty a stroke on the 
 rickety little lodging-house table, in the fer\ or 
 of his talk, as if his hand had descended on 
 the solid bulwark of his ship. His confusion 
 at the discovery of his own forgetfulness se- 
 cretly delighted her; she could hare cried 
 with pleasure when he penitently wonden-d 
 what he could possibly have been thinking of. 
 
 At other times she drew him from dwelling 
 on the pleasures of his life, and led him into 
 talking of its perils — the perils ofthat jealou* 
 mistress the sea, w^iich had absorbed so much 
 of his existence, which had kept hin^ so 
 strangely innocent and ignorant of the world 
 on shore. Twice he had been shipwrecked. 
 Times innumerable he and all with him had 
 been threatened with death, and had escai)ed 
 their doom by the narrowness of a hair's - 
 breadth. lit' was always unwilling, at the 
 outset, to speak of this dark and dreadful' side 
 of his life: it was only by adroitly tempting 
 him, by laying little snares for him in his talk, 
 that she lured him into telling her of the ter- 
 rors of the great deep. She sat listening t<> 
 him with a breathless interest, looking at him 
 with a breathless wonder, as those fearful 
 stories — made doubly vivid by the simple lan- 
 guage in which he told them — fell one by one 
 from his lips. His noble unconsciousness of 
 his own heroism — the artJess modesty with 
 which he described his own acts of dauntless 
 endurame and devoted courage, without .in 
 idea that thcv were anything more than plain 
 acts of dutv to which he wad bound by the 
 
272 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 TOcation that he followed — raised liim to a 
 place in her estiiijiation ao hopelessly high 
 above her that she became uneasy and im- 
 patient until she had pulled down the idol 
 again which she herself had set up. It was 
 on these occasions that she most rigidly ex- 
 acted from him all those little familiar atten- 
 tions so precious to women in their intercourse 
 with men. " This hand " — she tliought, with 
 an exquisite delight in secretly following the 
 idea while he was close to her — " this hand 
 that has rescued the drowning from death is 
 shiiang my pillows so tenderly that 1 hardly 
 know when they are moved. Tliis hand that 
 has seized men mad with mutiny, and driven 
 them back to their duty by main force, is * 
 mixing, my lemonade and peeling my fruit [ 
 more delicately and more neatly than I could 
 do it for myself. Oh, if T could be a man, 
 how I should like to be such a mail as this I" I 
 
 She never allowed her thoughts, while she 
 was in his presence, to lead her beyond that 
 point. It was only when the night had sepa- 
 rated them that she ventured to let her mind 
 dwell on the self-sacrificing devotion which ' 
 had so mercifully rescued her. Kirke little 
 knew -iiow she thought of him, in the secrecy 
 of her own chamber, during the quiet hoiu's | 
 that elapsed before she sunk to sleep. No 
 suspicion crossed his mind of the influence 
 which he was exerting over her — - of the new 
 spirit which he was breathing into that new 
 life, so sensitively open to impression in the 
 first freshness of its recovered sense I " She 
 has nobody else to amuse lier, poor thing !" 
 he used to think, sadly, sitting alone in his , 
 small second-floor room. " If a rough fellow 
 like me can beguile the weary hours till her 
 friends come here, she is heartily welcome to ! 
 all that I can tell her." 
 
 He was out of spirits and restless now 
 whenever he was by himself. Little by little 
 he fell into a habit of taking long, lonely walks 
 at night, when Magdalen thought he was 
 sle«iping up stairs. Once he went away ab- 
 ruptly in the daytime — on business, as he 
 said. Something had passed between Magda- 
 len and himself the evening before which had 
 led her into. telling him her age. ''Twenty 
 last birthday," he thought. " Take twenty 
 from forty-one 1 An easy sum in subtraction 
 — as easy a sum as my little nephcAv could 
 wish for." He walked to the Docks, and 
 looked bitterly at the shipping. " I mustn't 
 forget how a ship is made," he said. " It 
 won't be long before I am back at the old 
 work again." On leaving the Docks he paid 
 a visit to a brother-sailor, a married man. In 
 ' the course of conversation, he asked how 
 much older his friend might be than his 
 friend's wife. There was six years difference 
 between them. '> I suppose that 's difference 
 enough ?" said Kirke. " Yes," said his friend. 
 " Qmte enough. Are you looking out for a 
 Tfife at laat ? Try a seasoned woman of thir- 
 
 ty-five; that 's your piark, Kirke, as near as t 
 can (calculate." 
 
 The time passed smoothly and quickly — 
 the present time, in which she was recovering 
 so happily — the present 'time which he was 
 beginning to distrust already. 
 
 Early one morning Mr. Merrick surpi-ised 
 Kirke by a visit in his little room on the sec- 
 ond floor. 
 
 " I came to the conclusion yesterday," said 
 tjie doctor, entering abruptly on his business, 
 " that our patient was strong enough to justi- 
 fy us, at last, in running all risks, and com- 
 municating with her friends ; and I have ac- 
 cordingly followed the clew which that queer 
 fellow. Captain Wragge, put into our hands. 
 You remember he advised us to apply to Mr. 
 Pendril, the lawyer V I saw Mr. Pendril two 
 days ago, and was referred by him — not 
 over -willingly, as I thought — to a lady, 
 named Miss Garth.' I heard enough from her 
 to satisfy me that we have exercised a wise 
 caution in acting as we have done. It is a 
 very, very sad story — and I am bound to 
 say, that I for one, make great allowances for 
 the poor girl down stairs. Her only relation 
 in the world is her elder sister. I have sug- 
 gested that. the sister shall write to her in the 
 first instance — and then, if tlie letter does, 
 her no harm, follow it personally in a day or 
 two. I have not given the address, by way 
 of preventing any visits from being paid here 
 without my permission. All I have done is to 
 undertake to forward the letter ; and I shall 
 probably find it at my house when I get back. 
 Can you stop at home until I send my man _ 
 with it? There is. not the least -hope of my 
 being able to bring it myself. All you need . 
 do is to watch for an opportunity when she is 
 not in t*he front room, and to put the letter 
 where she can see it when she comes in. "Ihe 
 handwriting on the address will break the 
 news before she opens the letter. Say noth- 
 ing to her about it — take care that the land- 
 lady is within call — and leave her to herself. 
 I know I can trust you to follow my direc- 
 i tions; and that is why T ask you to do us this 
 I service. You look out of spirits this morn- 
 I ing. Natural enough. You 're used to plen- 
 ty of fresh air, captain, and you 're beginning 
 1 to pine in this close place." 
 i " May I ask a question, doctor ? Is she 
 pining in this close place, too ? When her 
 sister comes, will her sister take her away ?" 
 " Decidedly — if rtiy advice is followed. 
 She will be well enough to be moved in a 
 week or less. GooJ-day. You are certainly 
 out of spirits, and your hand feels feverish. 
 Pining for the blue water, captain — pining 
 for the blue water!" -With that expression 
 of opinion the doctor cheerfully went out. 
 
 In an hour the letter arrived. Kirke took 
 it from the landlady reluctantly, and almost 
 roughly, without looking at it. Having as- 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 273 
 
 eertained that Magdalen was still engaged at 
 her toilet, and having explained to the land- 
 lady the necessity of remaining within call, 
 he went down stairs immediately and put the 
 letter on the table in the front room. 
 
 Magdalen heard the sound of thd familiar 
 step on tiie floor. " I shall soon be ready," 
 she called to him through the door. 
 
 He made no reply — he took his Jliat and 
 went out. After a momentary hesitation he 
 turned his face eastward and called on the 
 ship-owners who employed him, at their office 
 in Cornhill. 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 Magdalen's first glance round the empty 
 room showed her the letter on the table. 
 The address, as the doctor had predicted, 
 broke the news the moment she looked at it. 
 
 Not a word escaped her. She sat down 
 by the table,. pale and silent, with the letter 
 in her la(P. Twice she attempted to open it 
 and twice she put it back again. The by- 
 gone time was not alone in .her mind as she 
 looked at her sister's handwriting — the fear 
 of Kirke was there with it. " My past life !" 
 she thought. " What will he think of me 
 when he knows my past life ?" 
 
 She made another eflbrt and broke the 
 seal. A second letter dropped out of the 
 inclosure, addressed to her in a handwriting 
 with which she was not familiar. She put 
 the second letter aside, and read the lines 
 which Norah had written : 
 
 " Ventnor, Isle op Wight. Angust 24. 
 
 " My dearest Magdalen — When you 
 read this letter, try to think we have only 
 been parted since j"esterday, and dismiss from 
 your mind (as I have dismissed from mine) 
 the past and all that belongs to it. 
 
 " I am strictly forbidden not to agitate you, 
 nor to weary you by writing a long letter. Is 
 it wrong tx) tell you that I am the happiest 
 woman living ? I hope not, for I can't keep 
 the secret to myself. 
 
 " My darling, prepare yourself for the great- 
 est surprise I have ever caused you. I am 
 married. It is only a week to-day since I 
 parted with my old name — it is only a week 
 since I have been the happy wife of George 
 Bartram, of St. Crux. 
 
 " There were difficulties, at first, in the 
 way of our marriage — some of them, I am 
 afraid, of my making. Happily for me, my 
 husband knew, from the beginning, that I 
 really loved him ; he gave me a second chance 
 of telling him so after I had lost the first, and, 
 as you see, 1 was wise enough to take it. 
 You ought to be especially interested, my 
 love, in thii marriage, for you are the cause 
 of it. If I had not gone to Aldborough to 
 search for the lost trace of you — if George 
 had not been brought there, at the samp time, 
 85 
 
 by circamstances in which you were con- 
 cerned, my husband and I might never have 
 met. When we look back to our first im- 
 pressions of each other we look back to you. 
 " I must keep my promise not to weary 
 you ; I must bring this letter (sorely against 
 my will) - to an end. Patience ! patience ! I 
 shall see you soon. George and I are both 
 coming to London to take you back with us 
 to Ventnor. This is my husband's invita- 
 tion, mind, as well as mine. Don't suppose I 
 married him, Magdalen, until I had taught 
 him to think of you as I think — to wish with 
 my wishes, and to hope with my hopes. I 
 could say so much more about this, so much 
 more about George, if I might only give my 
 thoughts and my pen their own way. Cut I 
 must leave Miss Garth (at her own special 
 request) a blank space to fill up on the last 
 page of this letter ; and I must only add one 
 word more before I say good-by — a word to 
 warn you that I have anothjir surprise in 
 store, which I am keeping in reserve until 
 we meet. Don't attempt to guess what it is. 
 You might guess for ages, and be no nearer 
 than you are now to a discovery of the truth. 
 " Your affectionate sister, 
 
 '•• NorAIi Bartram." 
 
 [ADDKl), BY MIS* GARTH.] 
 
 " My dear Child — If I had ever lost my 
 old loving recollection of you, I should feel 
 it in my heart again now when I know that 
 it has pleased God to restore you to us from 
 the brink of the grave. I add these lines to 
 your sister's letter because I am not sure that 
 you are quite so fit yet, as she thinks you, to' 
 accept her proposal. She has not said a word 
 of her husband, or herself, which is not true. 
 But Mr. Bartram is a stranger to you — and 
 if you think you can recover more easily and 
 more pleasantly to yourself, under the wing 
 of your old governess than under the pro- 
 tection of your new brother-in-law, come to 
 me first, and trust to my reconciling Norah 
 to the change of plans. I have secured the 
 refusal of a 'little cottage at Shanklin^^near 
 enough to your sister to allow of your seeing 
 each other whenever you like, and far enough 
 away, at the same time, to secure you the 
 privilege, when you wish it, of being alone. 
 Send me one line, before we meet, to say'Yes 
 or No — and I will write to Shankhn by the 
 next post. 
 
 " Always yours affectionately, 
 
 "Harriet Garth." 
 
 The letter dropped from Magdalen's hand. 
 Thoughts which had never risen in her mind 
 yet, rose in it now. 
 
 Norah, whose courtigc under undeserved 
 calamity had been thty courage of resigna- 
 tion — Norah, who had patiently accepted 
 her hard lot — who, from first to last, bad 
 meditated no Vengeance, and stooped to no 
 deceit — Norah had reached the end ■which 
 
274 
 
 NO NAAtEV 
 
 all ber sister's ingenuity, all her sister's reso- 
 lution, and all lier sister's daring, had failed 
 to achieve. Openly and honorably, with love 
 on one side and love on the other, Norah had 
 married the man who possessed the Combe- 
 Raven money — and Magdalen's own scheme 
 to recover it had opened the way to the 
 event which hadv brought husband and wife 
 together. 
 
 As the light of that overwhelming dis- 
 covery broke on her mind the old strife was 
 renewed ; and Good and Evil struggled once 
 moi;e which should win her — but with added 
 forces this time ; with the new spirit that had 
 been breathed into her new life ; with the 
 nobler sense that had grown with the growth 
 of her gratitude to the man who had saved 
 her, fighting on the better side. All the 
 ^higher impulses of her nature, which had 
 never, from first to last, let her err with im- 
 punity — which had tortured her, before her 
 marriage and after it, with the remorse that 
 no woman inherently heartless and inherently 
 wicked can feel — all the nobler elements in 
 her character gathered their forces for .the 
 crowning struggle, and strengthened her to 
 meet, with no unworthy shrinking, the reve- 
 lation that had opened on her view. Clearer 
 and clearer, in the light of its own immortal 
 life, the truth rose before her from the ashes 
 of her dead passions, from the grave of her 
 buried hopes. When she looked at the letter 
 again — when she read the words once more, 
 which told her that the recovery of the lost 
 fortune was her sister's triumph, not hers, 
 she had victoriously trampled down all little 
 jealousies and all mean regrets; she could 
 say in her heart of hearts, ""Norah has de- 
 served it!" 
 
 The day wore on. She sat absorbed in her 
 own thoughts, and heedless of the second let- 
 ter, which she had not opened yet, until Kirke's 
 return. 
 
 He stopped on the landing outside, and, 
 opening the door a little way only, asked, 
 without entering the room, if she wanted any- 
 thing that he could send her. She begged 
 him to come in. His face was worn and 
 weary ; he looked older than she had seen him 
 look yet. " Did you put my letter on the table 
 for me?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes.- I put it there at tlie doctor's re- 
 quest." 
 
 " I suppose the doctor told you it was from 
 my sister ? She is coming to see me, and 
 Miss Garth is coming to see me. They will 
 thank you for all your goodness to me better 
 than I can." 
 
 " I have no claim on their thanks," he an- 
 swered, sternly. " AVhat I have done was not 
 done for them, but fpr you." He waited a 
 little and looked at her. His face would have 
 betrayed him in that look; his voice would 
 have betrayed him in the next words he 
 epoke, if she had not guessed the truth" al- 
 
 ready. " \Vlien your friends come here," he 
 resumed, " they will take you away, I suppdse, 
 to some better place than this V" 
 
 " They can take me to no place," she said, 
 gently, " which I shall think of as I think of 
 the place where you found me. They can 
 take me to no dearer friend than the friend 
 who has saved my life." 
 
 There was a moment's silence^ between 
 them. 
 
 " We have been very happy here," he went 
 on, in lower and lower tones. " You won't 
 forget me when we have said good-by ?" 
 - She turned pale as the words passed his 
 lips; and, leaving her chair, knelt down at 
 the table, so as to look up into his face, and to 
 force him to look into hers. 
 
 " Why do you talk of it ?" she asked. "We 
 are not going. to say good-by — at least not 
 yet." 
 
 " I thought — " he began. 
 " Yes ?" 
 
 " I thought your friends were coming here — " 
 She eagerly interrupted him. "J)o you 
 think I would go away with anybciiy," she 
 said, " even with the dearest relation I have 
 in the world, and leave you here, not knowing 
 and not caring whether I ever saw you again ? 
 Oh, you don't think that of me !" she exclaim- 
 ed, with the passionate tears springing into 
 her eyes — " I 'm sure you don't think that of 
 me !" 
 
 " No," he said ; " I never have thought, I 
 never caii think, unjustly or unworthily of 
 you." • 
 
 Before he could add another word she left 
 the table as suddenly as she had approached 
 it, and returned to her chair. He had uncon- 
 sciously replied in terms that reminded her of 
 the hard necessity which still remained unful- 
 filled — the necessity of telling him the story 
 of the past. Not an idea of concealing that 
 story from bis knowledge crossed her mind. 
 " Will he love me, when he knows the truth, 
 as he loves me now ?" That was her only 
 thought as she tried to approach the subject 
 in his presence without shrinking from it. 
 
 " Let us put my own feelings out of the 
 question," she said. " There is a reason for 
 my not going away, unless I first have the 
 assurance of seeing you again. You have a 
 claim — the strongest claim of any one — to 
 know how I came here, unknown to my 
 friends, and how it was that you found me 
 fallen so low." 
 
 " I make no claim,*' he said, hastily. " I 
 wish to know nothing which it distresses you 
 to tell me." 
 
 '' You have always done your duty," she 
 rejoined, with a faint smilen " Let me take 
 example from you, if I can, and try to do 
 mine." 
 
 " I am old enough to be your father," he 
 said, bitterly. " Duty is more easily done at 
 ray age than it is at yours." 
 
 His age was so constantly in his mind now 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 375 
 
 tbat he fancied it un\>i ht' in her mind too. 
 She had never giv«n it a thouglit. The ref- 
 erence he had just made to it did not divert 
 her for a moment from the suly'ect on which 
 she was speaking to him. 
 
 " You don't know how I value your good 
 opinion of me^" sJie said, struggling resolutely 
 to sustain her sinking courage. " How can I 
 deserve your kindness, how can I feel that I 
 am worthy of your regard, until I have open- 
 ed my heart to you ? Oh, don't encourage, 
 me in my own miserable weakness I Help me 
 to tell the truth — force me to tell it, for my 
 own sake, if not for yours !" 
 
 He was deeply moved by the fervent sin- 
 cerity of that appeal. 
 
 " You shall tell it," he said. You are right 
 — and I was wrong."' He waited a little, and 
 considered. " Would it be ea.sier to you," he 
 asked, with delicate consideration for her, " to 
 write it than tell it?" 
 
 She caught gratefully at the suggestion. 
 " Far easier," she replied. " 1 can be sure of 
 myself — I can be sure of hiding nothing from 
 you, if I write it. Don't write to me, on your 
 side I" she added suddenly, seeing, with a 
 woman's instinctive quickness of penetration, 
 the danger of totally renouncing her personal 
 influence over him. " Wait till we meet, and 
 telLme with your own lips what you think." 
 
 " Where shall I tell it ?" 
 
 " Here," she said, eagerly. '' Here, where 
 you found me helpless — here, where you have 
 brought me back to life, and where I have 
 first learned to kupw you.» I can bear the 
 hardest words you say to me, if you will only 
 .«*ay them in this room. It is impossible I can 
 be away longer than a month ; a month will 
 be enough, and more than enough. If I come ; 
 back — " She stopped confusedly. . " I am \ 
 thinking of myself," she said, " when I ought j 
 to be thinking of you. You have your own i 
 occupations and your own friends. Will you i 
 decide for us. Will you say how it shall be ?" ' 
 
 " It shall be as you wish. If you come 
 back in a month you will find me here." 
 
 "Will it cause you no sacrifice of your own 
 comfort and your own plans ?" 
 
 "It will cause me nothing," he replied, 
 but a journey back to the City." He rose 
 and took his hat. " I must go there at once," 
 he added. " or I shall not be in time." 
 
 " It is a promise between us ?" she said, and 
 held out her hand. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, a little sadly. ♦' It is 
 a promise." 
 
 Slight as it wa5, the shade of melancholy 
 in his manner pained her. Forgetting all 
 other anxieties in the anxiety to cheer him, 
 she gently pressed the hand he gave her. " If 
 tJiat won't tell him the truth." she thought, 
 " nothing will." 
 
 It failed to tell him the truth — but it forced 
 a question on his mind which he had not ven- 
 tured to a.sk himself before. " Is it her errati- 
 t\i(]o or her love that is speaking to me .'"' he 
 
 wondered, v It I was only a younger man, I 
 might almost hope it was her love." That 
 terrible sum in subtraction which had first 
 presented itself on the day when she told him 
 her age began to trouble him again as he left 
 the house. He took twenty from forty-one, 
 at intervals, all the way back to the ship- 
 ownej.s' office in Cornhill. 
 
 Left by herself, Magdalen approached the 
 table to write the line of answer which Miss 
 Garth requested, and gratefully to accept the 
 proposal that had been made to her. 
 
 The second letter, which she had laid aside 
 and forgotten, was the -first object that caught 
 her eye on changing her place. She opened 
 it immediately and, not recognizing the hand- 
 writing, looked at the signature. To li«r 
 unutterable astonishment her correspond! ui 
 proved to be no less a person than old Mr. 
 Clare ! 
 
 The philosopher's letter dispensed with all 
 the ordinary forms of address, and entered on 
 its subje(;t without prefatory phrases of any 
 kind in these uncompromising terms : 
 
 " I have more news for you of that con- 
 temptible cur, my son. Here it is in the few- 
 est possible words. 
 
 " I always told. you, if you remember, that 
 Frank was a Sneak. The very first trace re- 
 covered of him, after his running away from 
 his employers in China, presents him in that 
 character. Where do yoo think he turns up 
 next ? He turns up hidden behind a couple 
 of flour-barrels, on board an English vessel 
 bound homeward from Hong-Kong to Lon- 
 don. 
 
 " The name of the ship was The D^iver- 
 ance, and the commander was one Captain 
 Kirke. Instead of acting like a sensible man, 
 and throwing Frank overboard. Captain Kirke 
 was fool enough to listen to his story. He 
 made the most of his misfortunes, you may bo 
 sure — he was half-starved' ; he was an Eng- 
 lishman lost in a strange country, without a 
 friend to help him; his only chance of getting 
 home was to sneak into the hold of an English 
 vessel — and he had sneaked in, accordingly, 
 at Hong-Kong, two davs since. That was his 
 storv. Any other loul in Frank's situation 
 would have been rope's-ended by any other 
 captain. Deserving no pity from anybody, 
 Frank was, a.s a matter of course, coddled 
 and compassionated on the spot. The captain 
 I took him by the hand, the frcw pitied him, 
 and the pa.ssengcrs patted him on the back. 
 I He was fed, clothe<l, and presented with his 
 I passage home. Luck enough, so far, you will 
 i say. Nothing of the sort; nothing like luck 
 , enough for my despicable son. 
 
 " The ship touched at the Cape of Good 
 Hope. Among his other acts (W folly, Cap- 
 I tain Kirke took a woman-passenger on board 
 at that place — not a young woman, by any 
 means — the elderly widow of a rich colonist. 
 Is it nncewarv to say that she forthwith be- 
 
276 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 came deeply interested in Frank and his mis- 
 fortunes? Is it necessary to tell you what 
 followed ? Look back at my son's career, and 
 you will see that what followed was all of 
 a piece with what went before. He didn't 
 deserve your poor. father's interest in him — 
 and he got it. He didn't deserve your attach- 
 ment — and he got it. He didn't deserve the 
 best place in one of the best offices in Lon- 
 don; he didn't deserve an equally good 
 chance in one of the best mercantile houses 
 in China ; he didn't deserve food, clothing, 
 pity, and a free passage home — and he got 
 them all. Last, not least, he didn't even 
 deserve to marry a woman old enough to 
 be his grandmother ^— and he has done it. 
 Not five minutes since I sent his wedding- 
 cards out to the dust-hole, and tosged the 
 
 detter that came with them into the fire. 
 The last piece of information which that let- 
 tor contains is, that he and his wife are look- 
 ing out for a house and estate to suit them. 
 Mark my words, Frank will get one of the 
 best estates in England ; a seat in the House 
 of Commons will follow as a matter of course ; 
 
 , and one of the legislators of this Ass-ridden 
 country will be — My Lout ! 
 
 "If you ai'e the sensible girl I have always 
 iaken you for, you have long since learned to 
 rate Frank at his true value, and the news I 
 send you will only confirm your contempt for 
 him. I wish your poor father could have lived 
 but to see this day. Often as I have missed 
 my old gossip, I don't know that I ever felt 
 the loss of him so keenly as I felt it when 
 Frank's wedding - cards and Frank's letter 
 came to his house. 
 
 " Your friend, if you ever want one, 
 I ^ "Francis Clare, Sen." 
 
 • With one momentary disturbance of her 
 composui'e, produced by the. appearance of 
 Kirke's name in Mr. Clare's singular nar- 
 rative, Magdalen read the letter steadily 
 through from beginning to end. The time 
 when it could have distressed her was gone 
 by ; the scales had long since fallen from her 
 eyes. ]VIr. Clare • himself would have been 
 satisfied if he had seen the quiet contemjjt on 
 her face as she laid aside his letter. The only 
 serious thought it cost her was a thought in 
 which Kirke was concerned. The careless 
 manner in which he had referred, in her 
 presence, to the passengers on board his ship, 
 without mentioning any of them by their 
 names, showed her that Frank must have 
 kept silence on the subject of the engage- 
 ment once existing between them. The con- 
 fession of that vanished delusion was left for 
 her to make, as part' of the story of the 
 past which she had pledged herself unre- 
 servedly t(;^ reveal. 
 
 She wrote to Lliss Garth, and sent the letter 
 to the post immediately. 
 
 The next morning brought a line of re- 
 joinder. ' Miss Garth had wiitten to secure 
 
 the cottage at Shanklin, and Mr. Merrick had 
 consented to Magdalen's removal on the fol- 
 lowing day. Norah would be the first to 
 arrive at the house ; and Miss Garth would 
 follow,' with a comfortable carriage, to take 
 the Invalid- to the railway. Every needful 
 arrangement had been made for her; the 
 effort of moving was the one effort she would 
 have to make. 
 
 Magdalen read the letter thankfully — but 
 her thoughts wandered from it, and followed 
 Kirke on his return to the City. What was 
 the business which had once already taken 
 him there In the morning ? And why had 
 the promise exchanged between them obliged 
 him to go to the City again for the second 
 time In one day ? 
 
 Was It by any chance business relating to, 
 the sea ? Were his employers tempting him 
 to go back to his ship ? • . 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The first agitation of the meeting between 
 the sisters was over; the first vivid impres- 
 sions, half pleasurable, half- painful, had soft- 
 ened a little — and Norah and Magdalen sat 
 together, hand in hand, each rapt in the 
 silent fulness of her own joy. 
 
 Magdalen was the first to speak. 
 
 " You have something to tell me, Noi-ah V" 
 
 " I have a thousand things to tell you, my 
 love; and you have ten thousand things to 
 tell me. Do you mean that second surprise, 
 which I told you of in nay letter ?" 
 
 " Yes. I suppose it must concern me very 
 nearly, or you would hardly have thought of 
 mentioning it in your first letter?" 
 
 "It does concern you very nearly. You 
 have heard of George's house in Essex ? You 
 must be familiar at least with the name of St. 
 Crux ? What is there to start at, my dear ? 
 I am afraid you are hardly strong enough for 
 any more surprises, just yet ?" 
 
 " Quite stro'ng enough, Norah. I have 
 something to ^ay to you about St. Crux — I 
 have a surprise, on my side, for you.'' 
 
 " Will you tell it me now ?" 
 
 " Not now. You shall know it when we 
 are at the sea-side — you shall know it before 
 I accept the kindness which has invited me 
 to your husband's house." 
 
 " What can it be ? Why not tell me at 
 once?" • 
 
 "You used often to set. me the example of 
 patience, Norah, in old times — will you set 
 me the example now ?" 
 
 " With all my heart. Shall I return to my 
 own story as well ? Yes V Then we will go 
 back to it at once. I was telUng you that St. 
 Crux was George's house, in Essex, the house 
 he inherited from his uncle. Knowing that 
 Miss Garth had a curiosity to see the place, 
 he left word (when he went abroad after the 
 
NO NAME. 
 
 277 
 
 admiral's death) that she and any friends who 
 came with her were to be admitted, if she 
 'happened to find herself in the neighborhood 
 durmg his absence. - Miss Garth and I, and a 
 large party of Mr. Tyrrel's friends, found 
 ourselves in the neighborhood not long after 
 (Teorge's*5fleparture. We had all been invit- 
 ed to see the launch of Mr. Tyrrel's new 
 }acht, from the buil<ler's yard at Wivenhoe 
 in Essex. When the launch was over, the 
 rest of the company returned to Colchestfr 
 to dine. Miss Garth and I contrived to get 
 into the same carriage together, with nobody 
 but my two little pupils foi; our companions. 
 We gave the coachman his orders, and drove 
 i round by St. Crux. The moment Miss Garth 
 • mentioned her name we were let in, and 
 shown all over the house. I don't know how 
 to describe it to you : it is the most bewilder- 
 ing place I ever saw in my life — " 
 
 " Don't attempt to desoribe it, Norah. Go 
 on with your story instead." 
 
 " Very well. My story takes me straight 
 into one of the rooms at St. Crux — a room 
 about as long as your street here ; so dreary, 
 so dirty, and so dreadfully cold that I shiver 
 at the bare recollection of it. Miss Garth 
 was for getting out of it again as speedily as 
 possible, and so was 1. But the housekeeper 
 declined to let us oil' without first looking at 
 a singular piece of furniture — the only piece 
 of furniture in the comfortless place. She 
 called it a tripod,,! think. (There is nothing 
 ^o be alarmed at, Magdalen ; I assure you 
 tjicre is nothing to be alarmed at !) At aay 
 Pate, it was a strange three-legged thing, 
 ' which supported a great pan full of charcoal 
 J'ashes at the top. It was considrt^d by all 
 ^ood judges (the housekeeper told us) a won- 
 derful piece of chasing in metal ; and she es- 
 |»ecially pointed out the beauty of some scroll- 
 work running round the inside of the pan, 
 •with Latin mottoes on it, signifying — I forget 
 wliat. I felt not the slightest interest in the 
 ihing my.self, but I looked close .at the scroll- 
 work to satisfy the housekeeper. To confess 
 the truth, she was rather tiresome with her 
 iiu'chanically-learned lecture on fine metal- 
 work, and while she was t^ilking I found my- 
 , self idly stirring the soft, feathery, white ashes 
 ■ backward and forward With my hand, pre- 
 *, tending to listen, with my mind a hundred 
 i miles away from her. I don't know how long 
 ♦* or how short a time I had been playing with 
 / the ashes when my finger suddenly encoun- 
 ,. tered a piece of crumpled paper hidden deep 
 ^ among them. When I brought it to the sur- 
 5 face it proved to be a letter — a long letter, 
 i'ull of cramped, close writing. You have an- 
 licipated my story, Magdalen, before 1 can 
 end it. You know as well as I do that the 
 letter which my idle fingers found was the 
 Secret Trust. Hold out your hand, my dear. 
 I have got George's pernlission to show it to 
 you — and there it is !" 
 She put the Trust into her sister's hand. 
 
 Magdalen took it from her mechanically. 
 "You!" she said, looking at her si.ster with 
 the remembrance of all that she had vainly 
 ventured, of all that she had v^iinly suffered 
 at St. Crux. ^^Xou have found it !" 
 
 " Yes," said Norah, gaily. " The Trust has 
 proved no exception to the gener?il pervogrsity 
 of all lost things. Look for them, and they 
 remain invisible. Leave them alone, and they 
 reveal themselves. You and your lawyer, 
 Magdalen, were both justified in supposing 
 that your interest in this discovery was an 
 interest of no common kind. I spare you all 
 our consultations after i had produced the 
 crumpled paper from the ashes. It ended in 
 George's lawyer being written to, and in 
 George himself being recalled from the .Con-- 
 tinent. Miss Garth and I both sa*w him im- 
 mediately on hL«i return ; and he did, what 
 neither of us coulcl do — he solved the mys- 
 tery of the Trust being hidden in the ehar- 
 coal ashes. Admiral Bartram, you must 
 know, was all his life subject to fits of som- 
 nambuli.sm. He had been fqund walking in 
 his sleep not long before his death — just at 
 the time, too, when he was sadly troubled in 
 his mind on the subject of that very letter in 
 your hand. George's idea is that he must 
 have fancied he was doing in his sleep what 
 he would have died rather than do in his 
 waking moments -y destroying the Trust. 
 The fire had been lit in the pan not long be- 
 fore, and he no doubt saw it still burning in > 
 his dream. This was George's explanation > 
 
 of the strange position of the letter when I 
 discovered it. The question of what was to 
 be done with the letter itself came ne^t, and 
 was no easy question for a woman to under- 
 stand. But I determined to master it, and I 
 did master it, because it rented to you." 
 
 " Let me try to master it in my turn," said 
 Magdalen. " I have a particular reason for 
 wishing to know as much about this letter as 
 you know yourself What has it done for 
 others '? and •vvhat is it to do for me ?" 
 
 "My dear Magdalen, how strangely you 
 .look at it! how strangely you talk of it! 
 Worthless as it may appear, that morsel of 
 paper gives you a fortune." 
 
 "Is my only claim to the fortune the claim 
 ^hich this letter gives me ?" 
 
 " Yes — the letter is your ooly claim. Shall 
 I try if I can explain it in two words ? Taken 
 by itself the letter might, in the lawyer's 
 opinion, have been made a matter for dis- 
 pute — though I am sure (ieorge would have 
 sanctioned no proceeding of that .sort. Taken, 
 however, with the postscript which Admiral 
 Bartram attached to it (you will see the lines 
 if you look under the signature on the third 
 page), it becomes legally binding, as well as 
 morally binding, on the admiral's rcprescnt- 
 ative.s. I have exhausted my small tdork of 
 legal words, and must go on in my own lan- 
 guage instead of in the lawyer's. The end 
 of the thing was simply this. All the money 
 
9TR 
 
 NO NAME. 
 
 went back to Mr. Noel Vanstone's estate 
 (anotuer legal word ! my vocabulary is richer 
 ilian I thought), for one plain reason — that 
 it had not been employed as Mr. Noel Van- 
 Kfcone directed. If Mrs. Girdlestone had lived, 
 or if George had married me a few months 
 earlier, results would have been just the 
 other way. As it is, half the money has 
 been already divided between Mr. Noel Van- 
 stone's next of kin, which means, translated 
 into plain English, my husband and his poor 
 bedridden sister — who took the money for- 
 mally, one d-iy, to satisfy the lawyer, and 
 who gave it back again generously the next 
 to satisfy herself So much for one half of 
 the legacy. The other half, my dear, is all 
 yours. How strangely events happen, Mag- 
 dalen ! It is only two years since you andl 
 were left disinherited orphans, and we are 
 sharing our poor father's fortune between us 
 after ?ill !" 
 
 " Wait a little, Norah. Our shares come 
 to us in very different ways." 
 
 " Do they ? Mine comes to me by my hus- 
 band, yours comes to you — " She stopped 
 confusedly, and changed color. " Forgive 
 me, my own love !" she said, putting Magda- 
 len's hand to her lips. " T have forgotten 
 what I ought to have remembered. I have 
 thoughtlessly distressed you !" 
 
 " No !" isaid Magdalen. " You have en- 
 couTEiged me." 
 
 " Encouraged you ?" 
 
 " You shall see." 
 
 With those words she rose quietly from the 
 sofa, and walked to the open window. Be- 
 fore Norah could follow her she had torn the 
 Trust to pieces, and had cast the fragments 
 into the, street. 
 
 She came baR'k to the sofa and laid her 
 hfead with a deep sigh of relief ^n Novah's 
 bosom. " I will owe nothing to my past life," 
 she said. " I have parted with it as I have 
 parted with those torn morsels/if paper. All 
 the thoughts and all the hopes Jbelonging to 
 it are put away from me for ever !" 
 
 " Magdalen ! my husband will never allow 
 you-^I will never allow you myself — " 
 
 "Hush! hush! What your husband thinks 
 right, Norah, you and I will think right too. 
 I will take from you what I would never haVc 
 taken if that letter had given it to me. The 
 end I dreamed of has come. Nothing is 
 changed but the position I once thought we 
 might hold toward each other. Better as it 
 is, my love-»-far, far better as it is." 
 
 So she made the last sacrifice of the old 
 perversity and the old pride. So she entered 
 on the new and nobler life. jt 
 
 * * , * * » « ^ * 
 
 A month had passed. The autumn sun- 
 shitie was bright even in the murky" streets ; 
 and tile clocks in the neighborhood werfe just 
 striking two as Magdalen returned alone to 
 the house in Aaron's Buildings. 
 
 "Is he waiting for me?" she asktd, anx- 
 iously, when the landlady let her in. 
 
 He was waiting in the front roooa. Ma^^J 
 dalen stole up the stairs and knocked at the 
 door. H J called to her carelessly and abJ 
 sently to come in — plainly thinl^iiig that it 
 was only the servant who applied for permis-i 
 sion to enter the room. 
 
 " You hardly expected me so soon, ?" shej 
 said, speaking on the threshold, and pausing 
 ifelere to enjoy his surprise as he started to his 
 feet and looked at her. , 
 
 The only traces of il)ness still visible in 
 her face left a delicacy an its outline which 
 added refinement to her beauty. She "vfras 
 simply dressed in muslin. Her plain straw 
 bonnet had no other ornament than the white 
 ribbon with which it was sparingly trimmed. 
 She had never looked lovelier in her best 
 days than she looked now, as she advanced 
 to the table at which ne had been sitting, 
 with a little basket of Iflowers that she had 
 brought with her from the country, and of- 
 fered hJm her hand. 
 
 He looked anxious and careworn when 
 she saw him closer. She interrupted his first 
 inquiries and congratulations to ask if he had 
 remained in London since they had parted — 
 if he had not even gone away for a few days 
 only to see his friends in Suffolk ? No : he 
 had been in London (:ver since. He never 
 told her that the pretty parsonage-house in 
 Suffolk wanted all tljose" associations with 
 herself in which the jioor four walls at i^a- 
 ron's buildings were so rich. He only Sciid 
 he had been in London ever since. 
 
 " I wonder," she asked, looking him attei'*- 
 tively in the face, " K you are as happy to 
 see me agaiij as I am ro see you V" 
 
 " Perhaps I am even happier, in my differ- 
 ent way," he answered, with a smile. 
 
 She took off her bonnet and scarf, aud 
 seated herself once more in her own ar:p- 
 chair. " I suppose the street is very ugly," 
 she said ; " and I am sure nobody can deny 
 that the house is very small. And yet — aud 
 yet it feels like coming home again. Sit 
 there, where you used to sit, and tell me about 
 yourself; I want to know all that you have 
 done — all tnat you have thought even — while 
 I have beQn away." She tried to resume 
 the endless succession of questions by means 
 of which she was accustomed to lure him into 
 speaking of himself But she put them far 
 less .spontaneously, far less adroitly, tiian 
 usual. Her one all-absorbing anxiety in en- 
 tering that room was not an anxiety to be 
 trifled with. After a quarter of an hour 
 wasted in constrained inquiries on one side, 
 in reluctant replies on the other, she ventured 
 near the dangerous subject at last; -/ 
 
 "Have you received the letters I wrote to 
 you from the sea-sjde f' she asked, suddenly, 
 looking away from him for the first time. 
 
 " Yes," he said, 1' all." 
 
 A 
 
NO 
 
 naAe. 
 
 sis 
 
 " Bsve yon read them ?" 
 
 " Every one of them ; many times over," 
 
 Her heart beat as if it would suffocate her. 
 She had kept her promise biravefy. The whole 
 story of her life, from the time of the home-' 
 wreck at Combe-Raven to the time when she 
 had destroyed the Secret Trust in her sister's 
 presence, had been all laid befo^ kim. Noth- 
 ing that she had done, nothing even that she 
 had thought, had been concealed from his 
 knowledge. As he would have kept a pledeed 
 engagement with her, so she had kept her 
 pledged engagement with him. She had not 
 faltered in the resolution to do this — and now 
 she faltered over the oae decisive <iue8tidn 
 which she had come there to ask. Strong as 
 the desire in her was to know if she had lost 
 or won him, the foar of knowing was, at that 
 moment, stronger still. She waited and trem- 
 bled ; she itaited, and said no more. 
 
 " May I speak to you about your letters ?" 
 he asked. " Mav I tell vou — " 
 
 If she had looked at him,' as he said those 
 few words, she would have seen what he 
 thought of her in his face. She would have 
 seen, innocent as he was in this world's knowl- 
 edge, that he kno^ the priceless value, the 
 all- ennobling virtue, of a woman who speaks 
 the truth. But she had no courage to look at 
 him — no courage to raise her eyes from her 
 Up- 
 
 "Not just yet," she said faintly. "Not 
 quite so soon after we have met again." 
 
 She rose hurriedly from her chair and walk- 
 ed to the window, turned back again into the 
 room and approached the table, close to where 
 he was sitting. The writing materials scattered 
 near him offered her a pretext for changing 
 the subject, and she seized on it directly. 
 " 'Were you writing a letter," she asked, "when 
 I came m V" 
 
 " I was thinking about it," he replied. " It 
 was not a letter to be written without think- 
 ing first" He rose, as he answered her, to 
 gather the writing materials together, and put 
 them away. 
 
 " Why should I interrupt you ?" she said. 
 " 'Why not let me try whether 1 can't help 
 yon instead. Is it a secret V" 
 
 " No — not a secret." 
 
 He hesitated as he answered her. She in- 
 stantly guessed the truth. 
 
 " Is it about your ship ?" 
 
 He little knew how she had been thinking 
 in her absence from him of the business which 
 be believed that he had concealed from her. 
 
 He little knew that ahe had learned already 
 to be jealous of his ship. 
 
 " Do they want you to return to your old 
 life T* she went on. " Do they want you to 
 go back to the sea ? Must you say Yet or No . 
 at once 'i" 
 
 " At once." 
 
 " If I had not come in when I did, would 
 you have said Yes ?" 
 
 She unconsciously laid her hand on his arm, 
 forgetting all inferior considerations in her 
 breathless anxiety to hear his next words. 
 The confession of his love was within a hairV 
 breadth Of escaping him, but he checked the 
 utterance of it even yet. " I don't care for 
 myself," he thought. " But how can I be cer- 
 tain of not distressing her f" 
 
 " 'Would you have said Yes V she repeated. 
 
 " I was doubting," he answered — "I was 
 doubting between Ves and No." 
 
 Her hand tightened on his arm; a sudden 
 trembling seized her in every limb ; she could 
 bear it no longer. All her heart went out to 
 him in her next words. 
 
 " Were you doubting /or my sake?" 
 
 "Yes," he said. "Take my confession in 
 return for yours — I was doubting for your 
 sake." 
 
 She said no more — she only looked at him. 
 In that look the truth reached him at last. 
 The next instant she was folded in his arms, 
 and was shedding delicious tears of joy, with 
 her face hidden on his bosom. 
 
 " Do I deserve my happiness ?" she mur- 
 mured, asking the one question at last. " Oh,« 
 I know how the poor narrow people .who have 
 never felt amd never soifered would answer 
 me if I asked them what I ask you. If they 
 knew my story they would forget all the prov- 
 ocation, and only remember the offense — 
 they, would fasten on my sin, and pass all my '^ 
 I suffering by. But you are not one of them ? 
 I Tell me if yon h%ve any shadow of a miae;iv- 
 ing ! Tell me if von doubt that the one dear 
 object of all my hfe to come is to live worthy 
 of you ! I asked you to wait and see me : I 
 asked yon if there was any hard truth to be 
 told to tell it me here with your own lips. Tell 
 it, my love, my husband i— -iell it me now !" 
 
 She looked up, still clinging to him as ahe 
 clung to the hope of her better life to come. 
 
 " Tell me the troth t" she repeated. 
 
 " With mv own lips ?" 
 
 " Yes !" she answered, eageriy. ** Say what 
 you think of me with yoar own lipc" 
 
 He stooped and kinied her. 
 
 TBI IRD. 
 
V