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PUT YOURSELF IN
HIS PLACE
By CHARLES READE, D.C.L.

A NE W EDITION
oCHATTO & WINDUS PICCADILLY
CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY

1894



" I will frame a work of fiction upon notcrious fact, so that
anybody shall think he can do the same; shall labour and toil
attempting the same, and fail- such is the power of sequence
and connexion in writing "- HORACE: Ar$ ~f Poefry



SPUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
CHAPTER I.
IIILLSBOROUGII and its outlying suburbs make bricks by the
million, spin and weave both wool and cotton, forge in steel
from the finest needle up to a ship's armour, and so add considerably to the kingdom's wealth.
But industry so vast, working by steam, on a limited
space, has been fatal to beauty: Hillsborough, though built
on one of the loveliest sites in England, is perhaps the most
hideous town in creation. All ups and downs and back
slums. Not one of its wriggling, broken-backed streets has
handsome shops in an unbroken row. Ilouses seem to have
battled in the air, and stuck wherever they tumbled down dead
out of the melee. But, worst of all, the city is pockmarked
with public-houses, and bristles with high round chimneys.
These are not confined to a locality, but stuck all over the
place like cloves in an orange. They defy the law, and belch
forth massy volumes of black smoke, that hang like acres of
crape over the place, and veil the sun and the blue sky even
in the brightest day; but in a fog-why, the air of Hillsborough looks a thing to plough, if you want a dirty job.
More than one crystal stream runs sparkling down the
valleys, and enters the town; but they soon get defiled, and
creep through it heavily charged with dyes, clogged with
putridty, and bubbling with poisonous gases, till at last thoy
turn to mere ink, stink, and malaria, and people the church.
yards as they crawl.
This infernal city, whose water is blacking, and whose air
is coal, lies in a basin of delight and beauty: noble slopes,
broad valleys, watered by rivers and brooks of singular beauty,
and fringedl by fair woods in places; and, eastward, the hills
0



2

PUT YotJUftS1tF IILI1f3 W LA1020

rise into mountains, and amongst them towers Cairnhope,
striped with silver rills, and violet in the setting sun.
Cairnhope is a forked mountain, with a bosom cf purple
heather and a craggy head. Between its forks stood, at the
period of my story, a great curiosity'; which merits description on its own account, and also as tire scene of curious incidents to come.
It was a deserted church. The walls were pierced with
arrow-slits, through which the original worshippers had sent
many a deadly shaft in defence of their women and cattle,
collected within the sacred edifice at the first news of marauders
coming.
Built up among the heathery hills in times of war and
trouble, it had outlived its uses. Its people had long ago gone
down into the fruitful valley, and raised another church in
their midst, and left this old house of God alone, and silent
as the tombs of their forefathers that lay around it.
It was no ruin, though on the road to decay.  One of the
side walls was much lower than the other, and the roof had
two great waves, and was heavily clothed, in natural patterns,
with velvet moss, and sprinkled all over'with bright amber
lichen: a few tiles had slipped off in two places, and showed
the rafters brown with time and weather: but the structure
was solid and sound;;he fallen tiles lay undisturbed beneath
the eaves; not a brick, not a beam, not a gravestone had been
)tolen, not even to build the new church) of the diamond
panes full half remained; the stone font was still in its place,
with its Gothic cover, richly carved; and four brasses reposed
in the chancel, one of them loose in its bed.
What had caused the church to be deserted had kept it
from being desecrated; it was clean out of the way: no gipsy,
no vagrant, ever slept there, and even the boys of the village
kept their distance. Nothing would have pleased them better
than to break the sacred windows time had spared, and defile
te graves of their forefathers with pitch-farthing and other
qts: but it was three miles off, and there was a lion in the
way: they must pass in sight of Squire Raby's house; and,
whenever they had tried it, he and his groom had followed
them on swift horses that could jump as well as gallop, had
caught them in the churchyard, and lashed them heartily; and
the same night notice to quit had been given to their parents,
who were all Mr. Raby's weekly tenants: and this had led to
a compromise, and flagellation 2.



PUT YOURSELr' LN HIIS PLACE.              8
Once or twice every summer a more insidious foe approached.
Some little party of tourists, including a lady who sketched in
water aid never finished anything, would hear of the old church,
and wander up to it. But Mr. Raby's trusty groom was sure
to be after them, with orders to keep by them, under guise of
friendship, and tell them outrageous figments, and see that
they demolished not, stole not, sculptured not.
All this was odd enough in itself, but it astonished nobody
who knew Mr. Raby. His father and predecessor had guarded
the old church religiously in his day, and was buried in it, by
his own orders; and, as for Guy Raby himself, what wonder
he respected it, since his own mind, like that old church, was
out of date, and a relic of the past?
An antique Tory squire, nursed in expiring Jacobitism,
and cradled in the pride of race; educated at Oxford, well read
in books, versed in county business, and acquainted with trade
and commerce; yet puffed up with aristocratic notions, and
hugging the very prejudices our nobility are getting rid ofas fast as the vulgar will let them.
He had a sovereign contempt for tradespeople, and especially for manufacturers. Any one of those numerous disputes
between masters and mechanics, which distinguish British industry, might have been safely referred to him, for he abhorred
and despised them both with strict impartiality.
The lingering beams of a bright December day still gilded
the moss-clad roof of that deserted church, and flamed on its
broken panes, when a young man came galloping towards it,
from Hillsborough, on one of those powerful horses common in
that district.
He came so swiftly and so direct, that, ere the sun had
been down twenty minutes, he and his smoking horse had
reached a winding gorge about three furlongs from the church.
Here, however, the bridle-road, which had hitherto served his
turn across the moor, turned off sharply towards the village of
Cairnhope, and the horse had to pick his way over heathkr,
and bog, and great loose stones. He lowered his nose, ed
hesitated more than once. But the rein was loose upon his
neck, and he was left to take his time. He had also his own
tracks to guide him in places, for this was by no means his
first visit; and he managed so well, that at last he got safe to
a mountain stream which gurgled past the north side of the
churchyard; -he went cautiously through the water, and then
D 2



4            Pt)T YOUlSE3Lfr rt HIS PLACE.
his rider gathered up the reins, stuck in the spurs, and put
him at a part of the wall where the moonlight showed a considerable breach. The good horse rose to it, and cleared it,
with a foot to spare; and the invader landed in the sacred
precincts unobserved, for the road he had come by was not
visible from Raby House, nor indeed was the church itself.
He was of swarthy complexion, dressed in a plain suit of
tweed, well made, and neither new nor old. His hat was of
the newest fashion, and glossy. He had no gloves on.
He dismounted, and led his horse to the porch. He took
from his pocket a large glittering key and unlocked the church
door; then gave.his horse a smack on the quarter. That
sagacious animal walked into the church directly, and his iron
hoofs rang strangely as he paced over the brick floor of the
aisle, and made his way under the echoing vault, up to the very
altar; for near it was the vestry-chest, and in that chest Lis corn.
SThe young man also entered the church; but soon came out
again with a leathern bucket in his hand. He then went round
the church, and was busily employed for a considerable time.
He returned to the porch, carried his bucket in, and
locked the door, leaving the key inside.
That night Abel Eaves, a shepherd, was led by his dog, in
search of a strayed sheep, to a place rarely trodden by the
foot of man or beast, viz., the west side of Cairnhope Peak.
He came home pale and disturbed, and sat by the fireside in
dead silence.  "What ails thee, my man? " said Janet, his
wife; " and there's the very dog keeps a whimpering."
" What ails us, wife? Pincher and me?  We have seen
summat."
" What was it? " inquired the woman, suddenly lowering
her voice.
" Cairnhope old church all o' fire inside."
" Bless us and save us! " said Janet, in a whisper.
"And the fire it did come and go, as if hell was a blowing
at.   One while the windows was a dull red like, and the
nexi they did flare so, I thought it would all burst out in a blaze.
And so 'twould, but, bless your heart, their heads ha'n't ached
this hundred year and more, as lighted that there devilish fire."
He paused a moment, then said, with a sudden gravity and
resignation, and even a sort of half business-like air, " Wife,
ye may make my shroud, and sew it and all; but I wouldn't
buy the stuff of Bess Crumm!es; she is an ill-tongued woman,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               5
and came near making mischief between you and me last
Lammermas as ever was."
" Shroud " cried Mrs. Eaves, getting seriously alarmed.
SWhy, Abel, what is Cairnhope old church to you?  You
were born in another parish."
Abel slapped his thigh. " Ay, lass, and another county,
if ye go to that."  And his countenance brightened suddenly.
" And, as for me," continued Janet, " I'm Cairnhope; but
my mother came from Morpeth, a widdy: and she lies within
a hundred yards of where I sit a talking to thee.  There's
none of my kin laid in old Cairnhope churchyard. Warning's
not for thee, nor me, nor yet for our Jock. Eh, lad, it will be
for Squire Raby.  His father lies up there, and so do all his
folk.  Put on thy hat this minute, and I'll hood myself, and
we'll go up to Raby Hall, and tell Squire."
Abel objected to that, and intimated that his own fireside
was particularly inviting to a man, who had seen diabolical
fires that came and went, and shone through the very stones
and mortar of a dead church.
" Nay, but," said Janet, " they sort o' warnings are not
to be slighted neither. We must put it off on to Squire, or I
shall sleep none this night."
They went up, hand in hand, and often looked askant upon
the road.
When they got to the Hall, they asked to see Mr. Raby.
After some demur they were admitted to his presence, and
found him alone, so far as they could judge by the naked eye;
but, as they arrived there charged to the muzzle with superstition, the room presented to their minds some appearances at
variance with this seeming solitude. Several plates were set as
if for guests, and the table groaned, and the huge sideboard
blazed, with old silver. The Squire himself was in full
costume, and on his bosom gleamed two orders bestowed upon
his ancestors by James III. and Charles III.  In other respects he was rather innocuous, being confined to his chair by
an attack of gout, and in the act of sipping the superannuated
compound that had given it him-port.   Nevertheless, his
light hair, dark eyebrows, and black eyes, awed them, and
co-operated with his brilliant costume and the other signs of
company, to make them wish themselves at the top of Cairnhope Peak. However, they were in for it, and told their tale,
but in tremulous tones and a low deprecating voice,(so that if
the room should happen to be infested with invisible grandets



0            PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
from the other world, their attention might not be roused unnecessarily.
Mr. Raby listened with admirable gravity; then fixed his
eyes on the pair in silence; and then said in a tone so solemn
it was almost sepulchral, "This very day, nearly a century
and a half ago, Sir Richard Raby was beheaded for being true
to his rightful king-"
"Eh, dear, poor gentleman! so now a walks."  It was
Janet who edged in this"And," continued the gentleman, loftily ignoring the comment, " they say that on this night such of the Rabys as died
Catholics hold high mass in the church, and the ladies walk
three times round the churchyard; twice with their veils down,
once with bare faces, and great eyes that glitter like stars."
"I wouldn't like to see the jades," quavered-Abel: "their
ladyships I mean, axing their pardon."
"Nor I! " said Janet, with a great shudder.
"It would not be good for you," suggested the Squire;
"for the first glance from those dead and glittering eyes
strikes any person of the lower orders dumb; the second,
blind; the third, dead. So I'm informed. Therefore-let me
advise you never to go near Cairnhope old church at night."
"Not I, sir," said the simple woman.
"Nor your children: unless you are very tired of them."
" Heaven forbid, sir! But oh, sir, we thought it might be. warning like."
" To whom? "
"Why, sir, th' old Squire lies there; and heaps more of
your folk: and so Abel here was afear'd-but you are the
best judge; we be no scholars.  Th' old church warn't redhot from eend to eend for nought; that's certain."
" Oh, it is me you came to warn? " said Raby, and his
lip curled.
"Well, sir" (mellifluously), "we thought you had the
beqt right to know."
" My good woman," said the warned, "I shall die when
my time comes.   But I shall not hurry myself, for all the
gentlemen in Paradise, nor all the blackguards upon earth."
He spake, and sipped his port with one hand, and waved
them superbly back to their village with the other.
But, when they were gone, he pondered.
And the more he pondered, the farther he got from the
prosaic but singular fact,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS5 PLACE.

CHAPTER II.
IN the old oak dining-room, where the above colloquy took
place, hung a series of family portraits. One was of a lovely
girl with oval face, olive complexion, and large dark tender
eyes; and this was the gem of the whole collection; but it
conferred little pleasure on the spectator, owing to a trivial
circumstance-it was turned with its face to the wall; and all
that met the inquiring eye was an inscription on the canvas.
not intended to be laudatory.
This beauty, with her back to creation, was Edith Raby,
Guy's sister.
During their father's lifetime she was petted and allowed
her own way. Hillsborough, odious to her brother, was,
naturally, very attractive to her, and she often rode into the
town to shop and chat with her friends, and often stayed a day
or two in it, especially with a Mrs. Manton, wife of a wealthy
manufacturer.
Guy merely sneered at her, her friends, and her tastes, till
he suddenly discovered that she had formed an attachment to
one of the obnoxious class, Mr. James Little, a great contract
builder. He was too shocked at first to vent his anger. He
turned pale, and could hardly speak; and the poor girl's
bosom began to quake.
But Guy's opposition went no farther than cold aversion to
the intimacy-until his father died. Then, though but a year
older than Edith, he assumed authority and, as head of the
house, forbade the connexion. At the same time he told her
he should not object, under the circumstances, to her marrying
/Dr. Amboyne, a rising physician, and a man of good family,
who loved her sincerely, and had shown his love plainly before
ever Mr. Little was heard of.
Edith tried to soften her brother; but he was resolute, and
said Raby Hall should never be an appendage to a workshop.
Sooner than that, he would settle it on his cousin Richard, a
gentleman he abhorred, and never called, either to his face or
behind his back, by any other name than " Dissolute Dick."
Then Edith became very unhappy, and temporised more or
less, till her lover, who had shown considerable forbearance,
lost patience at last, and said she must either have no spirit,
or no true affection for him.
Then came a month or two of misery, the tender clinging



8         PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
nature of the girl being averse to detach itself from either of
these two persons. She loved them both with an affection she
could have so easily reconciled, if they would only have
allowed her.
And it all ended according to Nature. She came of age,
plucked up a spirit, and married Mr. James Little.
Her brother declined to be present at the wedding; but, as
soon as she returned from her tour, and settled in Hillsborough,
he sent his groom with a cold, civil note, reminding her that
their father had settled nineteen hundred pounds on her, for
her separate use, with remainder to her children, if any; that
lie and Mr. Graham were the trustees of this small fund; that
they had invested it, according to the provisions of the settlement, in a first mortgage on land; and informing her that half
a year's interest at 4- per cent. was due, which it was his duty
to pay into her own hand and no other person's; she would
therefore oblige him by receiving the enclosed cheque, ana
bigning the enclosed receipt.
The receipt came back signed, and with it a few gentle
lines, " hoping that, in time. he would forgive her, and bestow
on her what she needed and valued more than money: her own
brother's, her only brother's, affection."
On receiving this, his eyes were suddenly moist, and he
actually groaned. " A lady every inch! " he said; "yet she
has gone and married a bricklayer."
Well, blood is thicker than water, and in a few years they
were pretty good friends again, though they saw but little of
one another, meeting only in Hillsborough, which Guy hated,
and never drove into now, without what he called his antidotes;
a Bible and a bottle of lavender-water. It was his humour to
read the one, and sprinkle the other, as soon as ever he got
within the circle of the smoky trades.
When Edith's little boy was nine years old, and much
admired for his quickness and love of learning, and of making
walking-stick heads and ladies' work-boxes, Mr. Little's
prosperity received a severe check, and through his own fault.
Hie speculated largely in building villas, overdid the market,
and got crippled. He had contracts uncompleted, and was
liable to penalties; and at last saw himself the nominal
possessor of a brick wilderness, but on the verge of ruin for
want of cash.
He tried every other resource first: but at last he came to
bis wife, to borrow her L900!. The security he offeied was a



PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.               9
mortgage on twelve carcases, or houses the bare walls and
roofs of which were built.
Mrs. Little wrote at once to Mr. Raby for her money.
Instead of lending the trust-money hastily, Raby submitted
the proposal to his solicitor, and that gentleman soon discovered
the vaunted security was a second mortgage, with interest overdue on the first; and so he told Guy, who then merely
remarked, " I expected as much; when had a tradesman any
sense of honour in money matters? This one would cheat his
very wife and child."
He declined the proposal, in two words, " Rotten security!"
Then Mr. James Little found another security that looked
very plausible, and primed his wife with arguments, and she
implored Guy to call and talk it over with them both.
He came that very afternoon, and brought his father's will.
Then Edith offered the security, and tried to convey to the
trustee her full belief that it was undeniable.
Guy picked terrible holes in it, and read their father's will,
confining the funds to consols, or a first mortgage on land.
" You take the money on these conditions; it is almost as
improper of you to wish to evade them, as it would be of me to
assist you. And then there is your child; I am bound in
honour not to risk his little fortune. See, here's my signature
to that."
"1 My child!" cried Edith. " When he comes of age, I'll
go on my knees to him and say, ' My darling, I borrowed your
money to save your father's credit.' And my darling will
throw his arms round me, and forgive me."
" Simpleton! " said Guy. " And how about your daughters
and their husbands?  And their husbands' solicitors?  Will
they throw their arms round your neck, and break forth into
twaddle?  No!   I have made inquiries. Your husband's
affairs are desperate. I won't throw your money into his well;
Sand ycu will both live to thank me for seeing clearer than yoj
do, and saving this 1,9001. for you and yours."
James Little had writhed in his chair for some time; he
now cried out wildly, " Edith, you shall demean yourself no
more. He always hated me; and now let him have his will,
and seal my dishonour and my ruin. Oblige me by leaving my
house, Mr. Raby."
" Oh, no, James!" cried Edith, trembling, and shocked at
this affront,
Cut Guy rose like a towcnr, "I've noticed this trait in all



10           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLAOC.
tradespeople," said he grimly. " They are obsequious to a
gentleman so long as they hope to get the better of him; but,
the moment they find it impossible to overreach him, they
insult him." And with this he stalked out of the house.
"Oh, my poor James, how could you? " said Edith.
"Forgive me," said he, quietly. " It is all over. That
was our last chance."
Guy Raby walked down the street, stung to the quick. He
went straight to his solicitor and arranged to borrow 1,9001.
on his own property. " For," said he, " I'll show them both
how little a snob can understand a gentleman. I won't tamper
with her son's money, but I'll give her my own to throw into
his well. Confound him! why did she ever marry him? "
When the business was virtually settled, he came back to
the house in great haste.
Meantime Mr. James Little went up to his dressing-room,
as usual, to dress for dinner; but he remained there so long
that, at last, Mrs. Little sent her maid to tell him dinner was
ready.
The girl had hardly reached the top of the stairs, when
she gave a terrible scream that rang through the whole house.
Mrs. Little rushed upstairs, and found her clinging to the
banisters, and pointing at the floor, with eyes protruding and
full of horror. Her candlestick had fallen from her benumbed
hand; but the hall-lamp revealed what her finger was qaivering and lointing at: a dark fluid trickling slowly out into the
lobby from beneath the bed-room door.
It was blood.
The room was burst into, and, the wretched tottering wife,
hanging upon her sobbing servants, found her lover, her husband, her child's father, lying on the floor,, dead by his own
hand; stone dead. A terrible sight for strangers to see; but
for her, what words can even shadow the horror of it!
I drop the veil on her wild bursts of agony, and piteous
appeals to him who could not hear her cries.
The gaping wound that let out that precious life, her eye
never ceased to see it, nor her own heart to bleed with it,
while she lived.
She was gently dragged away, and supported down to
another room. Doctor Amboyne came and did what he could
for her; and that was-nothing.



PUT YOURUSELF IN HIIS I'LACE.

11

At this time she seemed stupefied. But, when Guy came
beaming into the room to tell her he had got her the money, a
terrible scene occurred. The bereaved wife uttered a miserable scream at sight of him, and swooned away directly.
The maids gathered round her, laid her down, and cut her
stays, and told Guy the terrible tidings, in broken whispers,
over her insensible body.
He rose to his feet horrified. He began to gasp and sob.
And he yearned to say something to comfort her. At that
moment his house, his heart, and all he had, were hers.
But as soon as she came to herself, and caught sight of
him, she screamed out," Oh, the sight of him! the sight of
him!" and swooned away again.
Then the women pushed him out of the room, and he went
away with uneven steps, and sick at heart.
He shut himself up in   Laby Hall, and felt very sad and
remorseful. He directed his solicitor to render Mrs. Little
every assistance, and supply her with funds. But these good
offices were respectfully declined by Mr. Joseph Little, the
brother of the deceased, who had come from Birmingham to
conduct the funeral and settle other matters.
Mr. Joseph Little was known to be a small master-cutler,
who had risen from a workman, and even now put blades andhandles together with his own hands, at odd times, though he
had long ceased to forge or grind.
Mr. Raby drew in haughtily at this interference.
It soon transpired that Mr. James Little had died hopelessly insolvent, and the 1,9001. would really have been
engulfed.
Raby waited for this fact to sink into his sister's mind,
and then one day nature tugged so at his heart-strings, that
he dashed off a warm letter, beginning-" My poor Edith,
let bygones be bygones," and inviting her and her boy to live
with him at Raby Hall.
The heart-broken widow sent back a reply, in a handwriting scarcely recognisable as hers. Instead of her usual
precise and delicate hand, the letters were large, tremulous,
and straggling, and tha lines slanted downwards.
" WRITE to me, speak to me, no more. For pity's sake let
me forget there is a man in the world who is my brother and
his murderer,



1S            PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Guy opened this letter with a hopeful face, and turned pale
as ashes at the contents.
But his conscience was clear, and his spirit high. " Unjust idiot 1" he muttered, and locked her letter up in his
desk.
Next morning he received a letter from Joseph Little,
in a clear, stiff, perpendicular writing:" SIR,--I find my sister-in-law wrote you, yesterday, a harsh
letter, which I do not approve; and have told her as much.
Deceased's affairs were irretrievable, and I blame no other
man for his rash act, which may God forgive! As to your
kind and generous invitation, it deserves her gratitude; but
Mrs. Little and myself have mingled our tears together over
my poor brother's grave, and now we do not care to part
Before your esteemed favour came to hand, it had been settled
she should leave this sad neighbourhood and keep my house
at Birmingham, where she will meet with due respect. I am
only a small tradesman; but I can pay my debts, and keep
the pot boiling. Will teach the boy some good trade, and
make him a useful member of society, if I am spared.
" I am, sir, yours respectfully,
" JOSEPH LITTLE."
" SIR,-I beg to acknowledge, with thanks, your respectalle
letter.
" As all direct communication between Mrs. James Little
and myself is at an end, oblige me with your address in Birmingham, that I may remit to you, half-yearly, as her agent,
the small sum that has escaped bricks and mortar.
" When her son comes of age, she will probably forgive me
for declining to defraud him of his patrimony.
" But it will be too late; for I shall never forgive her,
alive or dead.
"I am, sir, your obedient servant,
" GUY RAnY."
When he had posted this letter he turned Edith's picture
to the wall, and wrote on the canvas"GONE    INTO TRADE."
He sent for his attorney, made a new will, and bequeathed
his land, houses, goods and chattels, to Dissolute Dick and
his heirs for ever.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

1i

CHAITER       III.
THE sorrowful widow was so fond of her little Henry, and the
uncertainty of life was so burnt into her now, that she could
hardly bear him out of her sight. Yet her love was of the
true maternal stamp; not childish and self-indulgent. She
kept him from school, for fear he should be brought home
dead to her; but she gave her own mind with zeal to educate
him   Nor was she unqualified. If she had less learning than
schoolmasters, she knew better how to communicate what she
did know to a budding mind. She taught him to read fluently,
and to write beautifully; and she coaxed him, as only a
woman can, over the dry elements of music and arithmetic.
She also taught him dancing and deportment, and to sew on
a button. He was a quick boy at nearly everything, but,
whon he was fourteen, his true genius went a-head of his
mere talents: he showed a heaven-born gift for6-carving in
wood. I This pleased Joseph Little hugely, and he fostered it
judici6usly.
The boy worked, and thought, and in time arrived at
such delicacies of execution, he became discontented with the
humdrum tools then current. " Then learn to make your
own, boy," cried Joseph Little, joyfully; and so initiated him
into the whole mystery of hardening, forging, grinding, handlemaking, and cutlery: and Henry, young and enthusiastic,
took his turn at them all in right down earnest.
At twenty, he had sold many a piece of delicate carving,
and could make graving-tools incomparably superior to any he
could buy; and, for his age, was an accomplished mechanic.
Joseph Little went the way of all flesh.
They mourned and missed him; and, at Henry's earnest
request, his mother disposed of the plant, and went with him
to London.
Then the battle of life began. He was a long time out or
employment, and they both lived on his mother's little fortune.
But Henry was never idle. He set up a little forge hard
by, and worked at it by day, and at night he would often sit
carving, while his mother read to him, and said he,(" Mother,
I'll never rest till I can carve the bloom upon a plum."\
Not to dwell on the process, the final result was this.
He rose at last to eminence as a carver; but as an inventor
and forger of carving-tools he had uo rival in Englaud.



IT.T YOUTRSELFAk IN 111S PMACE.

Having with great labour, patience, and skill, completed a
master-piece of carving, (there were plums with the bloom oln,
and other incredibles,) and also a set of carving-tools equally
exquisite in their way, he got a popular tradesman to exhibit both
the work and the tools in his window, on a huge silver salver.
The thing made a good deal of noise in the trade, and
drew many spectators to the shop window.
One day Mr. Cheetham, a master-cutler, stood in admiration before the tools, and saw his way to coin the workman.
This Cheetham was an able man, and said to himself,
"I'll nail him for Hillsborough, directly. London mustn't
have a hand that can beat us at anything in our line."
He found Henry out, and offered him constant employment, as a forger and cutler of carving-tools, at 41. per week.
Henry's black eyes sparkled, but he restrained himself.
"That's to be thought of. I must speak to my old lady.
She is not at home just now."
He did speak to her, and she put her two bands together
and said, "Hillsborough! Oh, Henry!" and the tears stood
in her eyes directly.
"Well, don't fret," said he: "it is only saying no."
So when Mr. Cheetham called again for the reply, Henry
declined, with thanks. On this Mr. Cheetham never moved,
but smiled, and offered him 61. per week, and his journey free.
Henry went into another room, and argued the matter.
"Come, mother, he is up to 61. a week now; and that is
every shilling I'm worth; and, when I get an apprentice, it
will be 91. clear to us.
" The sight of the place!" objected Mrs. Little, hiding
her face in her hands instinctively.
He kissed her, and talked good manly sense to her, and
begged her to have more courage.
She was little able to deny him, and she consented; but
cried, out of his sight, a good many times about it.
As for Henry, strong in the consciousness of power and
skill, he felt glad he was going to Hillsborough. "Many a
workman has risen to the top of the tree in that place," said
he. " Why, this very Cheetham was grinding saws in a
water-wheel ten years ago, I've heard Uncle Joe say. Come,
mother, don't you be a baby! I'll settle you in a cottage
outside the smoke; you shall make a palace of it; and we'll
rise in the very town where we fell, and friends and foes
shall see us"



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              15
Mr. Cheetham purchased both the carving and the tools
to exhibit in Hillsborough; and the purchase-money, less a
heavy commission, was paid to Henry. He showed Mrs. Little
thirty pounds, and helped her pack up; and next day they
reached Hillsborough by train.
Henry took a close cab, and carried his mother off to the
suburbs in search of a lodging. She wore a thick veil, and
laid her head on her son's shoulder, and held his brown
though elegant hand with her white fingers, that quivered a
little as she passed through the well-known streets.
As for Henry, he felt quite triumphant and grand, and
consoled her in an off-hand, hearty way. " Come, cheer up,
and face the music. They have all forgotten you by this
time, and, when they do see you again, you shall be as good
as the best of them. I don't drink, and I've got a trade all
to myself here, and I'd rather make my fortune in this town
than any other: and, mother, you have been a good friend to
me; I won't ever marry till I have done you justice, and
made you the queen of this very town."
And so he rattled on, in such high spirits, that the great
soft thing began to smile with motherly love and pride through
her tears, ere they found a lodging.
Next day to the works, and there the foreman showed him
a small forge on the ground floor, and a vacant room above to
make his handles in and put the tools together: the blades
were to be ground, whetted, and finished by cheaper hands.
A quick-eared grinder soon came up to them, and said
roughly, "Ain't we to wet new forge?"
" They want their drink out of you," said the foreman;
and whispered, in great anxiety, " Don't say no, or you might
as well work in a wasp's nest as here."
" All right," said Henry, cheerfully. "I'm no drinker
myself, but I'll stand what is customary."
" That is right," said Foreman Bayne. " 'Twill cost you
fifteen shillings. But peace is cheap at as many guineas."
The word was given, and every man who worked on the
same floor with Henry turned out to drink at his expense,
and left off work for a good hour. With some exceptions
they were a rough lot, and showed little friendliness or goodhumour over it. One even threw out a hint that no cockney
forges were wanted in Hillsborough. But another took him
up and said, " Maybe not: but you are not mich of a man
to drink his liquor and grudge him his brea4-r



1t           PUT YOUIRSr.F IN HIS PLACE.
After this waste of time and money, Henry went back to
the works, and a workman told him, rather sulkily, he was
wanted in the foreman's office.
He went in, and there was a lovely girl of eighteen, who
looked at him with undisguised curiosity, and addressed him
thus: " Sir, is it you that carve wood so beautifully? "
Henry blushed, and hesitated; and that made the young
lady blush herself a very little, and she said, "I wished to
take lessons in carving." Then, as he did not reply, she
turned to Mr. Bayne.     But perhaps he objects to teach
other people? "
" We should object to his teaching other workmen," said
the foreman; " but," turning to Henry, " there is no harm in
your giving her a lesson or two, after hours. You will want a
set of the tools, Miss? "
" Of course I shall. Please put them into the carriage;
and-    when will he come and teach me, I wonder? for I am
wild to begin."
Henry said he could come Saturday afternoon, or Monday
morning early.
" Whichever you please," said the lady, and put down her
pard on the desk; then tripped away to her carriage, leaving
Henry charmed with her beauty and ease.
He went home to his mother, and told her he was to give
lessons to the handsomest young lady he had ever seen. " She
has bought the specimen tools too; so I must forge some more,
and lose no time about it."
" Who is she, I wonder? "
" Here is her card. ' Miss Carden, Woodbine Villa, Heath
Hill.' "
" Carden!" said the widow. Then, after a moment's
thought. " Oh, Henry, don't go near them. Ah, I knew how
it would be. Hillsborough is not like London. You can't be
long hid in it."
" Why, what is the matter? Do you know the lady? "
" Oh, yes. Her papa is director of an insurance company
in London. I remember her being born very well. The very
day she was christened--her name is Grace--you were six
years old, and I took you to her christening: and oh, Harry
my brother is her godfather. Don't you go near that GracGarden; don't visit any one that knew us in better days."
" Why, what have we to be ashamed of? " said Henry.
" 'Tisn't as if we sat twiddling our thumbs and howling, ' We



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

17

have seen better days.' And 'tisn't as if we asked favours of
anybody. For my part I don't care who knows I am here,
and can make three hundred a year with my own hands and
wrong no man. I'd rather be a good workman in wood and
steel than an arrogant old fool like your b-. No, I won't
own him for yours or mine either-call him Raby. Well, I
wouldn't change places with him, nor any of his sort: I'm a
British workman, and worth a dozen Rabys-useless scum I "
" That you are, dear; so don't demean yourself to give any
of them lessons. Her godfather would be sure to hear of it."
"Well, I won't, to please you. But you have no more
pluck than a chicken-begging your pardon, mother."
"No, dear," said Mrs. Little, humbly, quite content to
gain her point and lose her reputation for pluck; if any.
Henry worked regularly, and fast, and well, and in less
than a fortnight a new set of his carving-tools were on view in
Hillsborough, and another in London; for it was part of
Mr. Cheetham's strategy to get all the London orders, and
even make London believe that these superior instruments had
originated in Hillsborough.
One day Miss Carden called and saw Bayne in the office.
Her vivid features wore an expression of vexation, and she complained to him that the wood-carver had never been near her.
Bayne was surprised at that; but he was a man who always
allayed irritation on the spot. " Rely on it, there's some
reason," said he. "Perhaps he has not got settled. I'll go
for him directly."
"Thank you," said the young lady. Then, in the same
breath, " No, take me to him, and perhaps we may catch him
carving-cross thing! "
Bayne assented cheerfully, and led the way across a yard,
and up a dirty stone stair, which, solid as it was, vibrated with
th? powerful machinery that steam was driving on every side of
it. He opened a door suddenly, and Henry looked up from
his work, and saw the invaders.
He stared a little at first, and then got up and looked embarrassed and confused.
t' You did not keep your word, sir," said Grace, quietly.
" No," he muttered, and hung his head.
He seemed so confused and ashamed, that Bayne came to
his assistance. " The fact is, no workman likes to do a hand'sturn on Saturday afternoon. I think they would rather break
Sunday than Saturday."



18           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
"t It is not that," said Henry, in a low voice.
Grace heard him, but answered Mr. Bayne: "Oh, dear,
I wish I had known. I fear I have made an unreasonable
request: for, of course, after working so hard all the week--
but then why did you let me purchase the tools to carve with?
Papa says they are very dear, Mr. Bayne. But that is what
gentlemen always say if one buys anything that is really good.
But of course they will be dear, if I am not to be taught how
to use them."  She then looked in Mr. Bayne's face with an
air of infantine simplicity: " Would Mr. Cheetham take them
back, I wonder, under the circumstances?"
At this sly thrust, Bayne began to look anxious; but Henry
relieved him the next moment by saying, in a sort of dogged
way, "There, there; I'll come."  He added, after a pause,
" I will give you six lessons, if you like."
" I shall be so much obliged. When will you come, sir? "
"Next Saturday, at three o'clock."
"I shall be sure to be at home, sir."
She then said something polite about not disturbing him
further, and vanished with an arch smile of pleasure and victory, that disclosed a row of exquisite white teeth, and haunted
Henry Little for many a day after.
He told his mother what had happened, and showed so
much mortified pride that she no longer dissuaded him from
keeping his word. "Only pray don't tell her your name,"
said she.
"Well, but what am I to do if she asks it?"
"Say Thompson, or Johnson, or anything you like, except
Little."
This request roused Henry's bile. " What, am I a criminal,
to deny my name?  And how shall I look, if I go and give
her a false name, and then she comes to Bayne and learns my
right one?  No, I'll keep my name back, if I can; but I'll
never disown it. I'm not ashamed of it, if you are."
This reduced poor Mrs. Little to silence; followed, in due
onurse, by a few meek, clandestine tears.
Henry put on his new tweed suit, and hat, and went up to
the villa. He announced himself as the workman from Cheetham's; and the footman, who had probably his orders, ushered
him into the drawing-room at once. There he found Grace
Carden seated, reading, and a young woman sewing at a respectful distance. This pair were types; Grace, of a young
English gentlewoman, and Jael Dence of a villager by unbroken



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

19

descent. Grace was tall, supple, and serpentine, yet not thin;
Jael was robust and ample, without being fat; she was of the
same height, though Grace looked the taller. Grace had dark
brown eyes and light brown hair; and her blooming cheek and
bewitching mouth shone with expression so varied, yet vivid,
and always appropriate to the occasion, grave or gay, playful
or dignified, that her countenance made artificial faces, and
giggling-in-the-wrong-place faces, painfully ridiculous. As for
such faces as Jael's, it killed them on the spot, but that was
all. Jael's hair was reddish, and her full eyes were grey; she
was freckled a little under the eyes, but the rest of her cheek
full of rich pure colour, healthy, but not the least coarse; and
her neck an alabaster column. Hers was a meek, monotonous
countenance; but with a certain look of cencentration. Altogether, a humble beauty of the old rural type; healthy, cleanly,
simple, candid, yet demure.
Henry came in, and the young lady received him with
a manner very different from that she had worn down at the
works. She was polite, but rather stiff and dignified.
He sat down at her request, and, wondering at himself,
entered on the office of preceptor. He took up the carvingtools, and explained the use of several; then offered, by way
of illustration, to work on something.
" That will be the best way, much," said Grace quietly,
but her eye sparkled.
"I daresay there's some lumber to be found in a great
house like this? "
"Lumber? why, there's a large garret devoted to it.
Jael, please take him to the lumber-room."
Jael fixed her needle in her work, and laid it down gently
on a table near her, then rose and led the way to the lumberroom.
In that invaluable repository Henry soon found two old
knobs lying on the ground (a four-poster had been wrecked
hard by), and a piece of deal plank jutting out of a mass of
things. He pulled hard at the plank; but it was long, and so
jammed in by miscellaneous articles, that he could not get
it clear.
Jael looked on demurely at his efforts for some time; then
she suddenly seized the plank a little higher up. " Now,
pull," said she, and gave a tug like a young elephant: out
came the plank directly, with a great rattle of dislocated
tumber.
c2



20           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
"Well, you are a strong one," said Henry.
" Oh, one and one makes two, sir," replied the vigorous
damsel, modestly.
" That is true, but you threw your weight into it like a
workman. Now hand me that rusty old saw, and I'll cut off
as much as we want."
While he was sawing off a piece of the plank, Jael stood
and eyed him silently awhile. But presently her curiosity
oozed out.  " If you please, sir, be you really a working
man? "
" Why, what else should I be? " was the answer, given
rather brusquely.
"A great many gentlefolks comes here as is no better
dressed nor you be."
"Dress is no rule. Don't you go and take me for a
gentleman, or we shan't agree. Wait till I'm as arrogant, and
empty, and lazy as they are. I am a workman, and proud
of it."
" It's nought to be ashamed on, that's certain," said Jael.
"I've carried many a sack of grain up into our granary, and
made a few hundred-weight of cheese and butter, besides
house-work and farm-work. Bless your heart, I bayn't idle
when I be at home."
" And pray where is your home? " asked Henry, looking
up" a moment, not that he cared one straw.
"If you please, sir, I do come from Cairnhope village.
I'm old Nat Deuce's daughter. There's two of us, and I'm
the youngest. Squire sent me in here, because Miss said
Hillsborough girls wasn't altogether honest. She is a dear
kind young lady; but I do pine for home and the farm at
times; and frets about the young calves: they want so much
looking after. And sister, she's a-courting, and can't give her
mind to 'em as should be. I'll carry the board for you, sir."
" All right," said Henry carelessly; but, as they went
along, he thought to himself, " So a skilled workman passes
for a gentleman with rustics: fancy that! "
On their return to the drawing-room, Henry asked for a
high wooden stool, or chair, and said it would be as well to
pin some newspapers over the carpet. A high stool was soon
got from the kitchen, and Jael went promptly down on her
knees, and crawled about, pinning the newspapers in a large
square.
Henry stood apart, superior, and thought to himself, " So



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

21

much for domestic servitude. What a position for a handsome
girl-creeping about on all fours! "
When all was ready, he drew some Arabesque forms with
his pencil on the board. He then took an exquisite little saw
he had invented for this work, and fell upon the board with a
rapidity that, contrasted with his previous nonchalance, looked
like fury. But he was one of your fast workmen. The lithe
saw seemed to twist in his hand like a serpent, and in a very
short time he had turned four feet of the board into openwork. He finished the edges off with his cutting tools, and there
was a transformation as complete as of linen cloth turned lace.
Grace was delighted. " Shall I ever be able to do that? "
" In half a day. That's not carving: that's trickery. The
tool does it all. Before I invented this saw, a good workman
would have been a day over that; but now you can do it in
half an hour, when you are master of the instrument. And
now I'll show you honest work." He took one of the knobs
and examined it; then sawed off a piece, and worked on the
rest so cunningly with his various cutters, that it grew into a
human face before their very eyes. He even indicated Jael
Dence's little flat cap by a means at once simple and ingenious. All the time he was working the women's eyes literally
absorbed him: only those of Grace flashed vivid curiosity,
Jael's open orbs were fixed with admiration and awe upon his
supernatural cleverness.
He now drew some more Arabesques on the remaining part
of the board, and told Miss Carden she must follow those
outlines with the saw, and he would examine her work on
Monday morning. He then went off with a quick independent
air, as one whose every minute was gold.
" If you please, Miss," said Jael, " is he a real working
man, or only a gentleman as makes it his pastime? "
" A gentleman I What an idea! Of course he is a working
man. But a very superior person."
" To be sure," continued Jael, not quite convinced, " he
don't come up to Squire Raby; but, dear heart, he have a
grander way with him than most of the Hillsborough gentle.
folks as calls here."
" Nonsense!" said Grace, authoritatively.  " Look at
his nails "
Henry came twice a week, and his pupil made remarkable
progress. She was deferential, attentive, enthusiastic,



23           PUT YOURSE1LF IN HIS PLACE.
By degrees the work led to a little conversation; and that
in due course expanded into a variety of subjects; and the
young lady, to her surprise, found her carver well read in
History and Sciences, and severely accurate in his information,
whereas her own, though abundant, was rather loose.
One day she expressed her surprise that he could have found
time to be so clever with his fingers and yet cultivate his mind,
" Well," said he, " I was lucky enough to have a good
mother. She taught me all she knew, and she gave me a
taste for reading; and that has been the making of me: kept
me out uf the public-house for one thing."
"' Ah! you were fortunate. I lost my mother, sir, when I
was but eight years old."
" Oh, dear, that was a bad job," said Henry brusquely but
kindly.
"A very bad job," said Grace smiling; but the next
moment she suddenly turned her fair head away, and tears
stole down her cheeks.
Henry looked very sorry, and Jael, without moving, looked
at Grace, and opened those sluices, her eyes, and two big
drops of sympathy rolled down her comely face in a moment.
That day, when young Little shut the street door of
"Woodbine Villa" and stepped into the road, a sort of dull
pain seemed to traverse his chest. It made his heart ache a
little, this contrast of the sweet society he had left and the
smoky town towards which he now turned his face. He seemed
to be ejected from Paradise for the next five days. It was
Monday, yet he wished the next day was Saturday, and the
intervening period could be swept away, so that he might be
entering that soft Paradise instead of leaving it.
And this sentiment, once rooted, grew rapidly in an aspiring nature, and a heart that had never yet entertained a serious
passion. Now the fair head that bowed over the work so near
him, the lovely hand he had so often to direct, and almost to
guide, and all the other perfections of mind and body this
enchanting girl possessed, crept in at his admiring eyes, and
began to steal into his very veins, and fill him with soft complacency. His brusque manner dissolved away, and his voice
became low and soft, whenever he was in her delicious presence. He spoke softly to Jael even, if Grace was there. The
sturdy workman was enthralled.
Often he wondered at himself. Sometimes he felt alarmed
at the strength of his passion and the direction it had taken.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               %
" What," said he, " have I flirted with so many girls in
my own way of life, and come away heart-whole, and now to
fall in love with a gentlewoman, who would bid her footman
show me the door if she knew of my presumption! "
But these misgivings could neither cure him nor cow him.
Let him only make money, and become a master instead of a
workman, and then he would say to her, " I don't value birth
myself, but if you do, why, I am not come of workpeople."
He traced a plan with workmanlike precision:-Profound
discretion and self-restraint at " Woodbine Villa;" restless
industry and stern self-denial in Hillsborough.
After his day's work he used to go straight to his mother.
She gave him a cup of tea, and then they had their chat; and
after that the sexes were inverted, so to speak: the man carved
fruit, and flowers, and dead woodcocks, the woman read the
news and politics of the day, and the essays on labour and
capital, and any other articles not too flimsy to bear reading
aloud to a man whose time was coin. (There was a free
library in Hillsborough, and a mechanic could take out
standard books and reviews.) Thus they passed the evening
hours agreeably, and usefully too, for Henry sucked in knowledge like a leech, and at the same time carved things that
sold well in London. He had a strong inclination to open his
heart about Miss Garden. Accordingly, one evening he said,
SShe lost her mother when she was a child."
" Who lost her mother? " asked Mrs. Little.
" Miss Garden," said Henry, very softly.
The tone was not lost on Mrs. Little's fine and watchful ea,
at least her mind seized it a few seconds afterwards.
"That is true," said she.   "Poor girl!   I remember
hearing of it. Henry, what is that to you? Don't you trouble
your head about that young lady, or she will trouble your heart.
I wish you did not go near her."
And then came question upon question, and vague internal
misgivings. Henry parried them as adroitly as he could, but
never mentioned Miss Carden's name again.
He thought of her all the more, and counted his gaiins
every week, and began to inquire of experienced persons how
much money was wanted to set up a wheel with steam power,
and be a master instead of a man. He gathered that a stranger
could hardly start fair without 5001.
" That is a good lump! " thought Henry; " but I'll have
it, if I work night as well as day."



124

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

Thus inspired, his life became a sweet delirium. When
he walked, he seemed to tread on air: when he forged, his
hammer felt a feather in his hand. The mountains in the way
looked molehills, and the rainbow tangible, to Youth, and
Health, and Hope, and mighty Love.
One afternoon, as he put on his coat and crossed the yard,
after a day's work that had passed like a pleasant hour, being
gilded with such delightful anticipations, the foreman of the
works made him a mysterious signal. Henry saw it, and
followed him into his office. Bayne looked carefully out of all
the doors, then closed them softly, and his face betrayed anxiety,
and even fear.
" Little," said he, almost in a whisper, " you know me:
I'm a man of peace, and so for love of peace I'm going to do
something that might get me into a wrangle. But you are the
civilest chap ever worked under me, and the best workman,
take you altogether, and I can't bear to see you kept in the
dark, when you are the man whose skin-     only-if I act
like a man to you, will you act like one to me? "
" I will," said Henry; "there's my hand on it."
Then Bayne stepped to his desk, opened it, and took out
some letters.
" You must never tell a soul I showed them you, or you
will get me into a row with Cheetham; and I want to be at
peace in-doors as well as out."
"I give you my word."
" Then read that, to begin."
And he handed him a letter, addressed to Mr. Cheetham.
" Sin,-We beg respectfully to draw your attention to a
matter, which is of a nature to cause unpleasantness between
you and the Trades. We allude to your bringing a workman
in from another town to do work that we are informed can be
done on the premises by your own hands.
" We assure you it would be more to your interest to work
in harmony with the smiths and the handle-makers in youi
employ, and the trade generally.
"Yours respectfully,
" THE COMMITTEE OF THE EDGE-TOOL FORGERS' UNION.
Henry coloured up at this, and looked grieved; but he
said, " I am sorry to be the cause of any unpleasantness. But
what can I do? "



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

25

"Oh," said Bayne, with a sardonic grin, " they are sure
to tell you that, soon or late. Read this."
No. 2 was dated a week later, and ran thus:" Mn. CHEETHAM, SIR-I think you do very ill to annoy a
many craftsmen for one. Remember, you have suffered loss
and inconvenience whenever you have gone against Trades.
We had to visit you last year, and when we came your bands
went and your bellows gaped. We have no wish to come
again this year, if you will be reasonable. But, sir, you must
part with London hand, or take consequences.
"c BALAAM."
Henry looked grave. " Can I see a copy of Mr. Cheetham's reply? "
Bayne stared at him, and then laughed in his face, but
without the gaiety that -.Iould accompany a laugh. " Cheetham's reply to Balaam! And where would he send it?  To
Mr. Beor's lodgings, No. 1, Prophet Place, Old Testament
Square. My poor chap, nobody writes replies to these letters.
When you get one, you go that minute to the secretary of
whatever Union you are wrong with, and you don't argue, or
he bids you good morning; you give in to whatever he asks,
and then you get civility: and justice too, according to Trade
lights.  If you don't do that, and haven't learned what a
blessing Peace is, why, you make up your mind to fight the
Trade; and if you do, you have to fight them all; and you are
safe to get the worst of it, soon or late. Cheetham has taken
no notice of these letters. All the worse for him and you too.
Read that."
No. 3 ran thus:" DEAR SIR,-I take the liberty of addressing you on the
subject of your keeping on this knobstick, in defiance of them
that has the power to make stones of Hillsborough too hot far
you and him. Are you deaf, or blind, or a fool, Jack Cheatem?
You may cheat the world, but you don't cheat the devil, nor
me. Turn cockney up, with no more ado, or you'll both get
kicked to hell some dark night by
1" BALAAM'S ASS."
Henry was silent; quite silent. When he did speak, it
- was to ask why Mr. Cheetham had kept all this from him.
" Because you shouldn't take fright and leave him," was.
the unhesitating reply.



wti

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

"For that matter they threaten him more than they
do me."
" They warn the master first; but the workman's turn is
sure to come, and he gets it hottest, because they have so
many ways of doing him. Cheetham     he lives miles from
here, and rides in across country, and out again, in daylight.
But the days are drawing in, and you have got to pass through
these dark streets, where the Trades have a thousand friends,
and you not one. Don't you make any mistake: you are
in their power; so pray don't copy any hot-headed, wrongheaded gentleman like Cheetham, but speak them fair. Come
to terms-if you can-and let us be at peace; sweet, balmy,
peace."
"Peace is a good thing, no doubt," said Henry, "but"
(rather bitterly) " I don't thank Cheetham for letting me run
blindfold into trouble, and me a stranger."
" Oh," said Bayne, " he is no worse than the rest, believe
me. What does any master care for a man's life?   Profit
and loss go down in figures; but life-that's a cypher in all
their ledgers."
"Oh, come," said Henry, "it is unphilosophical and
narrow-minded to fasten on a class the faults of a few individuals, that form a very moderate portion of that class."
Bayne seemed staggered by a blow so polysyllabic; and
Henry, to finish him, added, " Where there's a multitude,
there's a mixture."  Now the first sentence he had culled
from the Edinburgh Review, and the second he had caught
from a fellow-workman's lips in a public-house; and probably
this was the first time the pair of phrases had ever walked out
of any man's mouth arm in arm. He went on to say, " And
as for Cheetham, he is not a bad fellow, take him altogether.
But you are a better for telling me the truth. Forewarned,
forearmed."
He went homne thoughtful, and not so triumphant and airy
as yesterday - but still not dejected, for his young and manly
mind summoned its energy and spirit to combat this new
obstacle, and his wits went to work.
Being unable to sleep for thinking of what he should do,
he was the first to reach the works in the morning. He
lighted his furnace, and then went and unlocked the room
where he worked as a handle-maker, and also as a cutler. He
entered briskly, and opened the window. The grey light of
the morning came in, and showed him something on the inside



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

27

of the door that was not there when he locked it overnight. It
was a very long knife, broad towards the handle, but keenly
pointed, and double-edged. It was fast in the door, and
impaled a letter addressed, in a vile hand" TO JAK THRE TRADES."
Henry took hold of the handle to draw the knife out; but
the formidable weapon had been driven clean through the door
with a single blow.
Then Henry drew back, and as the confusion of surprise
cleared away, the whole thing began to grow on him, and
reveal distinct and alarming features.
The knife was not one which the town manufactured in
the way of business. It was a long glittering blade, doubleedged, finely pointed, and exquisitely-tempered., It was not a
tool, but a weapon.
Why was it there, and, above all, how did it come there?
He distinctly remembered locking the door overnight.
Indeed, he had found it locked, and -the window-shutters
bolted; yet there was this deadly weapon, and on its point a
letter, the superscription of which looked hostile and sinistei.
He drew the note gently across the edge of the keen knife,
and the paper parted like a cobweb. He took it to the window
and read it. It ran thus:
"This knifs wun of too made ekspres t'other is for thy
hart if thou dosent harken Trade and leve Chetm. is thy skin
thicks dore thinks thou if not turn up and back to Lundon or
I cum again and rip thy -   carkiss with feloe blade to this
thou - cokny.
' SLIPER JACK.'
CHAPTER IV,
ANY one who reads it by the fireside may smile at the incongruous mixture of a sanguinary menace with bad spelling.
But deeds of blood had often followed these scrawls in Hillsborough, and Henry knew it; and, indeedl he who cannot
spell his own name correctly, is the very man to take his
neighbour's life without compunction; since mercy is a fruit
of knowledge, and cruelty of ignorance
And then there was something truly chilling in the



28

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

mysterious entrance of this threat on a dagger's point into
a room he had locked overnight. It implied supernatural
craft and power. After this, where could a man be safe from
these all-penetrating and remorseless agents of a secret- and
irresponsible tribunal?
Henry sat down awhile, and pored over the sanguinary
scrawl, and glanced from it with a shudder at the glittering
knife. And, while he was in this state of temporary collapse,
the works filled, the Power moved, the sonorous grindstones
revolved, and every man worked at his ease, except one, the
best of them all beyond comparison.
He went to his friend Bayne, and said in a broken voice,
" They have put me in heart for work; given me a morning
dram. Look here."    Bayne was shocked, but not surprised.
" It is the regular routine," said he. " They begin civil; but
if you don't obey, they turn it over to the scum."
"Do you think my life is really in danger? "
"No, not yet; I never knew a man molested on one
warning. This is just to frighten you. If you were to take
no notice, you'd likely get another warning, or two, at most;
and then they'd do you, as sure as a gun."
"Do me?"
1" Oh, that is the Hillsborough word. It means to disable
a man from work. Sometimes they lie in wait in these dark
streets, and fracture his skull with life-preservers, or break his
arm, or cut the sinew of his wrist; and that they call doing
him. Or, if it is a grinder, they'll put powder in his trough,
and thenthe sparks of his own making fire it, and scorch him,
and perhaps blind him for life; that's doing him. They have
gone as far as shooting men with shot, and even with a bullet,
but never so as to kill the man dead on the spot. They do
him. They are skilled workmen, you know; well, they are
skilled workmen at violence and all, and it is astonishing how
they contrive to stop within an inch of murder. They'll chance
it though sometimes with their favourite gunpowder. If you're
very wrong with the trade, and they can't do you any other
way, they'll blow your house up from the cellar, or let a can of
powder down the chimney, with a lighted fuse, or fling a petard
in at the window, and they'd take the chance of killing a
houseful of innocent people, to get at the ane that's on the
black books of the trade, and has to be done."
"The beasts!    I'll buy a six-shooter.  I'll meet craft
with craft, and force with force."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

31

" Most emphatically. And if you can trace it home, he
shall smart for interfering in our business."
" Oh, if the trade disowns the blackguard, I can despise
him.   But you can't wonder at my thinking all these letters
were steps of the same-yes, and Mr. Bayne thought so too;
for he said this was the regular routine, and ends in doing a
poor fellow for gaining his bread."
Mr. Jobson begged to explain.
"Many complaints are brought to us, who advise the
trades.  When they are frivolous, we are unwilling to disturb
the harmony of employers and workmen; we reason with the
complainant, and the thing dies away. When the grievance is
substantial, we take it out of the individual's hands, and lay it
before the working committee. A civil note is sent to the
master; or a respectable member of the committee calls on
him, and urges him to redress the grievance, but always in
kind and civil terms.  The master generally assents: experience has taught him it is his wisest course. But if he refuses,
we are bound to report the refusal to a larger committee, and
sometimes a letter emanates from them, reminding the master
that he has been a loser before by acts of injustice, and hinting
that he may be a loser again. I don't quite approve this form
of communication.  But certainly it has often prevented the
mischief from spreading farther.  Well, but perhaps he continues rebellious. What follows?  We can't lock up facts
that affect the trade; we are bound to report the case at the
next general meeting. It excites comments, some of them
perhaps a little intemperate; the lower kind of workmen get
inflamed with passion, and often, I am sorry to say, write
ruffianly letters, and now and then do ruffianly acts, which
disgrace the town, and are strongly reprobated by us.  Why,
Mr. Little, it has been my lot to send a civil remonstrance,
written with-my own hand, in pretty fair English-for a man
who plied bellows and hammer twenty years of my life-and be
treated with silent contempt; and two months after, to be
offering a reward of twenty or thirty pounds, for the discovery
of some misguided man, that had taken on himself to right
this very matter with a can of gunpowder, or some such coarse
expedient."
" Yes, but, sir, what hurts me is, you didn't consider
me to be worth a civil note. You only remonstrated with
Cheetham."
" You can't wonder at that. Our trade hasn't been together



82

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many years: and what drove us togethef?    The tyranny of
our employers.   What has kept us together?   The bitter
experience of hard work and little pay, whenever we were out
of union. Those, who now direct the trades, are old enough
to remember when we were all ground down to the dust by the
greedy masters; and therefore it is natural, when a grievance
arises, we should be inclined to look to those old offenders for
redress in the first instance. Sometimes the masters convince
us the fault lies with -workmen; and then we trouble the master
no more than we are forced to do in order to act upon the
offenders. But, to come to the point; what is your proposal?
"1 beg to be admitted into the union."         J
"What union? "
" Why, of course, the one I have offended, through ignorance. The edge-tool forgers."
Jobson shook his head, and said he feared there were one
or two objections.
Henry saw it was no use bidding low. "I'll pay 151.
down," said he, "and I'll engage not to draw relief from your
fund, unless disabled by accident or violence."
" I will submit your offer to the trade," said Jobson. He
added, " Then there I conclude the matter rests for the
present."
Henry interpreted this to mean that he had nothing to
apprehend, unless his proposal should be rejected. He put
the 151. down on the table, though Mr. Jobson told him that
was premature, and went off as light as a feather. Being nice
and clean, and his afternoon's work spoiled, he could not resist
the temptation; he went to " Woodbine Villa."   He found
Miss Carden at home, and she looked quietly pleased at his
unexpected arrival; but Jael's colour came and went, and her
tranquil bosom rose and fell slowly, but grandly, for a minute,
as she lowered her head over her work.
This was a heavenly change to Henry Little. Away from
the deafening workshop, and the mean jealousies and brutality
of his inferiors, who despised him, to the presence of a beautiful and refined girl, who was his superior, yet did not despise
him. From sin to purity, from dirt to cleanliness, from war
to peace, from vilest passions to Paradise.
Her smile had never appeared so fascinating, her manner
never so polite yet placid. How softly and comfortably she
and her ample dress nestled into the corner of the sofa and
fitted it I How white her nimble hand I how bright her deli.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              W
What can you do against ten thousand?  No: go you
at once to the Secretary of the Edge-Tool Grinders, and get
your trade into his union.  You will have to pay; but don't
mind that. Cheetham will go halves."
" I'll go at dinner-time."
"And why not now? "
" Because," said Henry, with a candour all his own, " I'm
getting over my fright a bit, and my blood is beginning to
boil at being threatened by a sneak, who wouldn't stand before
me one moment in that yard, knife or no knife."
Bayne smiled a friendly but faint smile, and shook his
head with grave disapprobation, and said, with wonder,
" Fancy postponing Peace! "
Henry went to his forge, and worked till dinner-time.
Nay, more, he was a beautiful whistler, and always whistled a
little at his work; so to-day he whistled a great deal: in,,fact,
he over-whistled.
At dinner-time he washed his face and hands, and put on
his coat to go out.
But he had soon some reason to regret that he had not
acted on Bayne's advice to the letter.  There had been a
large trades' meeting overnight, and the hostility to the
London craftsman had spread more widely in consequence of
remarks that had been there made.   This emboldened the
lower class of workmen, who already disliked him out of pure
envy, and had often scowled at him in silence; and now, as he
passed them, they spoke at him, in their peculiar language,
which the great friend and supporter of mechanics in general,
The Hillsborough Liberal, subsequently christened " THE DASH
DIALECT."
"We want no -       cockneys here, to steal our work."
"Did ever a -     anvil man handle his own blades in
Hillsborough?"
"Not till this -  knobstick came," said another.
Henry turned sharp round upon them haughtily, and, such
was the power of his prompt defiant attitude, and his eye,
which flashed black lightning, that there was a slight movement of recoil among the actual speakers. They recovered it
immediately, strong in numbers; but in that same moment
Little also recovered his discretion, and he had the address to
step briskly towards the gate and call out the porter; he said
to him in rather a loud voice, for all to hear, "If anybody
asks for Henry 1ittle, say he has gone to the Secretary of the



80

PUT YOURSELF IN HfIS PLACE.

Edge-Tool Forgers' Union." He then went out of the works;
but, as he went, he heard some respectable workman say to
the scum, " Come, shut up now.  It is in better hands than
yours."
Mr. Jobson, the Secretary of the Edge-Tool Forgers, was
not at home, but his servant-girl advised Little to try the
" Rising Sun;" and in the parlour of that orb he, found
Mr. Jobson, in company with other magnates of the same
class, discussing a powerful leader of the Hillsborough Liberal,
in which was advocated the extension of the franchise, a
measure calculated to throw prodigious power into the hands
of Hillsborough operatives, because of their great number, and
their habit of living each workman in a tenement of his own,
however small.
Little waited till The Liberal had received its meed of
appobation, and then asked respectfully if he might speak to
Mr. Jobson on a trade matter. " Certainly," said Mr. Jobson.
"Who. are you? "
"1 My name is Little.   I make the carving-tools at
Cheetham's."
" I'll go home with you; my house is hard by."
When they got to the house, Jobson told him to sit down,
and asked him, in a smooth and well-modulated voice, what
was the nature of the business. This query, coming from him,
who had set the stone rolling that bade fair to crush him,
rather surprised Henry. He put his hand into his pocket,
and produced the threatening note, but said nothing as to the
time or manner of its arrival.
Mr. Jobson perused it carefully, and then returned it to
Henry. " What have we to do with this?" and he looked
quite puzzled.
" Why, sir, it is the act of your Union."
" You are   sadly misinformed, Mr. Little.  We never
threaten.  All we do is to remind the master that, if he does
not do certain things, certain other things will probably be
done by us; and this we wrap up in the kindest way."
" But, sir, you wrote to Cheetham against me."
" Did we?  Then it will be in my letter-book."  He took
down a book, examined it, and said, " You are quite right.
Here's a copy of the letter.  Now surely, sir, comparing the
language, the manners, and the spelling, with that of the
ruffian whose scrawl you received this morning--"
C Then you disown the ruffian's threat, sir 9 "



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

33

oious face! How he longed to kiss her exquisite hand, or hL.r
little foot, or her hem, or the ground she walked on, or something she had touched, or her eye had dwelt on.
But he must not even think too much of such delighta;
lest lie should show his heart too soon. So, after a short
lesson, he proposed to go into the lumber-room and find
something to work upon. " Yes, do," said Grace. " I would
go too; but no; it was my palace of delights for years, and
its treasures inexhaustible. 1 will not go to be robbed of one
more illusion. It is just possible I might find it really is
what the profane in this house call it-a lumber room-and
not vwtat memory paints it, a temple of divine curiosities."
And so she sent them off, and set herself to feel old-" Oh,
so old."
And presently Henry came back, laden with a great wooden
bust of Erin, that had been the figure-head of a wrecked
schooner; and set it down, and told her he should carve that
into a likeness of herself, and she must do her share of the
work.
Straightway she forgot she was worn out; and clapped her
hands, and her eyes sparkled. And the floor was prepared,
and Henry went to work like one inspired, and the chips flow
in every direction, and the paint was chiselled away in no
time, and the wood proved soft and kindly, and just the colour
of a delicate skin, and Henry said, " The Greek Statues,
begging their pardons, have all got hair like mops; but this
shall have real hair, like your own; and the silk dress, with
the gloss on; and the lace; but the face, the expression, how
can I ever-? "
" Oh, never mind them," cried Grace. " Jael, this is too
exciting. Please go and tell them ' not at home' to anybody."
Then came a pretty picture; the workman, with his superb
hand, brown and sinewy, yet elegant and shapely as a Duchess's,
and the fingers almost as taper, and his black eye that glowed
like a coal over the model, which grew under his masterly
strokes, now hard, now light: the enchanting girl who sat to
him, and seemed on fire with curiosity and innoceii adminration: and the simple rural beauty, that plied the needle, and
beamed mildly with demure happiness, and shot a shy glance
upward now and then.
Yes, Love was at his old mischievous game.
Henry now lived in secret for Grace Carden, and Jael was
garnering Henry into her devoted heart, unobserved by the
'D



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

object of her simple devotion. Yet, of the three, these two,
that loved with so little encouragement, were the happiest.
To them the world was Heaven this glorious afternoon. Time,
strewing roses as he went, glided so sweetly and so swiftly,
that they started with surprise, when the horizontal beams
glorified the windows, and told them the brightest day of their
lives was drawing to its end.
Ah, stay a little while longer for them, Western Sun.
Stand still, not as in the cruel days of old, to glare upon poor,
beaten, wounded, panting warriors, and rob them of their last
chance, the shelter of the night; but to prolong these holy
rapturous hours of youth, and hope, and first love in bosoms
unsullied by the world-the golden hours of life, that glow so
warm, and shine so bright, and fleet so soon; and return in
this world-   Never more!
CHAPTER       V.
HENIPY LITTLE began this bust in a fervid hour, and made
great progress the first day: but, as the work grew on him, it
went slower and slower; for his ambitious love drove him to
attempt beauties of execution that were without precedent in
this kind of wood-carving; and, on the other hand, the fastidiousness of a true craftsman made him correct his attempts
again and again.   As to those mechanical parts which he
entrusted at first to his pupil, she fell so far short of his ideal
even in these, that he told her bluntly she must strike work
for the present; he could not have this spoilt.
Grace thought it hard she might not be allowed to spoil
her own image; however, she submitted, and henceforth her
lesson was confined to looking on. And she did look on with
interest, and, at last, with probfund admiration. Hitherto she
had thought, with many other persons, that, if a man's hand
was the stronger, a woman's was the neater: but now she saw
the same hand, which had begun by hewing away the coaise
outlines of the model, bestow touches of the chisel so unerring
and effective, yet so exquisitely delicate, that she said to herself, "' No woman's hand could be so firm, yet so feather-like,
as all this."
And the result was as admirable as the process. The very



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               85
texture of the ivory forehead began to come under those
master-touches, executed with perfect and various instruments:
and, for the first time perhaps in the history of this art, a bloom,
more delicate than that of a plum, crept over the dimpled
cheek. But, indeed, when love and skill work together,
expect a masterpiece.
Henry worked on it four afternoons, the happiest he had
ever known. There was a natural pleasure of creating, and the
distinct glory and delight of reproducing features so beloved;
and to these joys were added the pleasure of larger conversation.
The model gave Grace many opportunities of making remarks,
or asking questions, and Henry contrived to say so many things
in answer to one. Sculptor and sitter made acquaintance with
each other's minds over the growing bust.
And then young ladies and gentlemen dropped in, and
gazed, and said such wonderfully silly things, and thereby left
their characters behind them as fruitful themes for conversation. In short, topics were never wanting now.
As for Jael, she worked, and beamed, and pondered every
word her idol uttered, but seldom ventured to say anything till
he was gone, and then she prattled fast enough about him.
The work drew near completion. The hair, not in ropes,
as heretofore, but its silken threads boldly and accurately
shown, yet not so as to cord the mass, and unsatin it quite.
The silk dress; the lace collar; the blooming cheek, with its
every dimple and incident; all these were completed, and one
eyebrow, a masterpiece in itself. This carved eyebrow was a
revelation, and made everybody who saw it wonder at the conventional substitutes they had hitherto put up with in statuary
of all sorts, when the eyebrow itself is so beautiful, and might,
it seems, have been imitated, instead of libelled, all these
centuries.
But beautiful works, and pleasant habits, seem particularly
liable to interruption. Just when the one eyebrow was finished,
and when Jael Dence had come to look on Saturday and
Monday as the only real days in the week, and when even
Grace Carden was brighter on those days, and gliding into a
gentle complacent custom, suddenly a Saturday came and
wrent, but Little did not appear.
Jael was restless.
Grace was disappointed, but contented to wait till Monday.
Monday came and went, but no Henry Little.
Jael began to fret and sigh; and, after two more  lank
D 2



86,          PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.
weeks, she could bear the mystery no longer. "If you please,
Miss," said she, " shall I go to that place where he works? "
" Where who works?"    inquired Grace, rather disingenuously.
"Why, the dark young man, Miss," said Jaei, blushing
deeply.
Grace reflected, and curiosity struggled with discretion;
but discretion got the better, being aided by self-respect. "No,
Jael," said she; " he is charming, when he is here; but, when
he gets away, he is not always so civil as he might be. I had
to go twice after him. I shall not go nor send a third time.
It really is too bad of him."
"Dear heart," pleaded Jael, "mayhap he is not well."
"Then he ought to write and say so. No, no; he is a
radical, and full of conceit: and he has done this one eyebrow,
and then gone off laughing and saying, 'Now let us see if the
gentry can do the other amongst them.' If he doesn't come
soon, I'll do the other eyebrow myself."
" Mayhap he will never come again," sighed Jael.
" Oh, yes, he will," said Grace, mighty cunningly; "he is
as fond of coming here as we are of having him. Not that I'm
at all surprised; for the fact is you are very pretty, extremely
pretty, abominably pretty."
"I might pass in Cairnhope town," said Jael, modestly,
"but not here. The moon goes for nought when the sun is
there. He don't come here for me."
This sudden elegance of language, and Jael's tone of
dignified despondency, silenced Grace, somehow, and made her
thoughtful. She avoided the subject for several days. Indeed,
when Saturday came, not a word was said about the defaulter:
it was only by her sending for Jael to sit with her, and by
certain looks, and occasional restlessness, she betrayed the
slightest curiosity or expectation.
Jael sat and sewed, and often looked quickly up at the
window, as some footstep passed, and then looked down again
and sighed.
Young Little never came. He seemed to have disappeared
from both their lives; quietly disappeared.
Next day, Sunday, Jael came to Miss Garden, after morning
church, and said, meekly, "If you please, Miss, may I go
home? "
" Oh certainly," said Grace, a little haughtily. " What
for?"



PUT YOTURSELF IN HIS3 PtAO1487

87

Jael hung her head, and said she was not used to be long
away. Then she lifted her head, and her great candid eyes,
and spoke more frankly, " I feel to be drawed home. Something have been at me all the night to that degree as I couldn't
close my eyes. I could almost feel it, like a child's hand, a
pulling me East. I'm afeard father's ill, or maybe the calves
are bleating for me, that is better acquaint with them than
sister Patty is. And Hillsborough air don't seem to 'gree with
me now not altogether as it did at first. If you please, Miss,
to let me go; and then I'll come back when I'm better company
than I be now. Oh, derar! Oh, dear! "
"Why, Jael, my poor girl, what is the matter? "
" I don't know, Miss. But I feel very unked."
" Are you not happy with me? "
" 'Tis no fault of yourn, Miss," said Jael, rustic, but
womanly.
" Then you are not happy here? "
No reply, but two clear eyes began to fill to the very brim.
Grace coaxed her, and said, " Speak to me-like a friend.
You know, after all, you are not my servant. I can't possibly
part with you altogether; I have got to like you so: but, of
course, you shall go home for a little while, if you wish it very,
very much."
" Indeed I do, Miss," said Jael. "Please forgive me, but
my heart feels like lead in my bosom." And, with these words,
the big tears ran over, and chased one another down her
cheeks.
Then Grace, who was very kind-hearted, begged her, in a
very tearful voice, not to cry: she should go home for a week,
a fortnight, a month even. " There, there, you shall go tomorrow, poor thing."
Now it is a curious fact, that looks like animal magnetism
or something, but the farmhouse, to which Jael had felt so
mysteriously drawn all night, contained, at that moment,
besides its usual inmates, one Henry Little: and how he came
there is an important part of this tale, which I must deal with
at once.
While Henry was still visiting Woodbine Villa, as related
above, events of a very different character from those soft
scenes were taking place at the works. His liberal offer to the
Edge-Tool Forgers had been made about a week, when, coming



U            PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.
back one day from dinner to his forge, he found the smoky
wall written upon with chalk, in large letters, neatly executedM4MArRY."
He was not alarmed this time, but vexed. He went and
complained to Bayne; and that worthy came directly and contemplated the writing, in silence, for about a minute. Then he
gave a weary sigh, and said, with doleful resignation, " Take
the chalk, and write. There it is."
Henry took the chalk, and prepared to write Bayne's mind
underneath Mary's. Bayne dictated:effeil                0 a       ~/ie aame aj
" But that is not true," objected Henry, turning round,
with the chalk in his hand.
" It will be true, in half an hour. We are going to Parkin,
the Handlers' Secretary."
"What, another 151.! This is an infernal swindle."
"What isn't? " said Bayne, cynically.
Henry then wrote as desired; and they went together to
Mr. Parkin.
Mr. Parkin was not at home. But they hunted him from
pillar to post, and caught him, at last, in the bar-parlour of
" The Pack-saddle."  He knew Bayne well, and received him
kindly, and, on his asking for a private interview, gave a wink
to two persons who were with him: they got up directly, and
'ent out.
" What, is there anything amiss between you and the
trade? " inquired Mr. Parkin, with an air of friendly interest.
Bayne smiled, not graciously, but sourly: " Come, come,
sir, that is a farce you and I have worn out this ten years.
This is the London workman himself, come to excuse himself
to Mary and Co., for not applying to them before: and the
long and the short is, he offers the Handlers the same as he
has the Smiths, fifteen down, and to pay his natty money, but
draw no scale, unless disabled. What d'ye say? Yes, or No?"
" I'll lay Mr. Little's proposal before the committee."
" Thank you, sir," said Little. " And, meantime, I suppose I may feel safe against violence, from the members of
your union? "



PUT YOURSELM V BIS PAC.                309
" Violence!" said Mr. Parkin, turning his eye inwards, as
if he was interrogating the centuries. Then to Mr. Bayne,
"Pray, sir, do you remember any deed of darkness that our
union have ever committed, since we have been together; and
that is twelve years "
" Well, Mr. Parkin," said Bayne, "if you mean deeds of
blood, and deeds of gunpowder, etcetera-why, no, not one:
and it is greatly to your honour. But, mind you, if a master
wants his tanks tapped and his hardening-liquor run into the
shore, or his bellows to be ripped, his axle-nuts to vanish, his
wheel-bands to go and hide in a drain or a church belfry, and
his scythe-blades to dive into a wheel-dam, he has only to be
wrong with your union, and he'll be accommodated as above.
I speak from experience."
" Oh, rattening!" said Mr. Parkin. "That is a mighty
small matter."
" It is small to you, that are not in the oven, where the
bread is baked, or cooled, or burnt. But whatever parts the
grindstones from the Power, and the bellows from the air, and
the air from the fire, makes a hole in the master's business today, and a hole in the workmen's pocket that day six months.
So, for Heaven's sake, let us be right with you. Little's is
the most friendly and liberal offer that any workman ever made
to any union. Do, pray, close with it, and let us be at peace;
sweet-balmy-peace."
Parkin declared he shared that desire: but was not -the
committee.   Then, to Henry: " I shall put your case as
favourably as my conscience will let me. Meantime, of course,
the matter rests as it is."
They then parted; and Henry, as he returned home,
thanked Bayne heartily. He said this second 151. had been a
bitter pill at first; but now he was glad he had offered it. " I
would not leave Hillsborough for fifteen hundred pounds."
Two days after this promising interview with Mr. Parkin,
Henry received a note, the envelope of which showed him it
came from Mr. Jobson. He opened it eagerly, and with a
good hope that its object was to tell him he was now a member
of the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union.
The letter, however, ran thus:" DEAR SIR,-I hear, with considerable surprise, that you continue to forge blades and make handles for Mr. Cheetham. On
receipt of this information I went immediately to Mr. Parkin,



40           PUT YOURSELF IN IlS PLACE,
and he assured me that he came to the same terms with you
as I did.  He says he intimated politely, but plainly, that
lie should expect you not to make any more carving-tool
handles for Mr. Cheetham, till his committee had received your
proposal. He now joins me in advising you to strike work for
the present. Hillsborough is surrounded by beautiful scenes,
which it might gratify an educated workman to inspect, during
the unavoidable delay caused by the new and very important
questions your case has raised.
"Yours obediently,
" SAML. JOBSON.
"P.S.-A respectable workman was with me yesterday,
and objected that you receive from Mr. Cheetham a higher
payment than the list price. Can you furnish me with a reply
to this, as it is sure to be urgeJ at the trade meeting."
When he read this, Little's blood boiled, especially at the
cool advice to lay down his livelihood, and take up scenery:
and he dashed off a letter of defiance. He showed it to Bayne,
and it went into the fire directly. " That is all right," said
this worthy. " You have written your mind like a man. Now
sit down, and give them treacle for their honey-or you'll.
catch pepper."
Henry groaned, and writhed, but obeyed.
He had written his defiance in three minutes. It took
him an hour to produce the following:" DEAR SIR,-I am    sorry for the misunderstanding. I did
not, for a moment, attach that meaning to anything that fell
either from you or Mr. Parkin.
" I must now remind you that, were I to strike work
entirely, Mr. Cheetham could discharge me, and even punish
me, for breach of contract. All I can do is to work fewer
hours than I have done: and I am sure you will be satisfied
with that, if you consider that the delay in the settlement of
this matter rests with you, and not with me.
"I am yours respectfully,
"n HENRY LITTLE.
"I furnish you, as requested, with two replies to the
objection of a respectable workman that I am paid above the
list price.
" 1.-To sell skilled labour below the statement price, is a
Jiust ofien;e and injury to trade.  But to obtain above thw



P1tr VOICItSELF IN fMtS PLAC1

41

statement price is to Lbnefit trade. The high price, that stands
alone to-day, will not stand alone for ever. It gets quoted in
bargains, and draws prices up to it. That has been proved a
thousand times.
" 2.-It is not under any master's skin to pay a man more
than he is worth. If I get a high price, it is because 1 make
a first-rate article. If a man has got superior knowledge, he
is not going to give it away to gratify envious Ignorance."
To this, in due course, he received from Jobson the following:< DEAR SIR,-I advised you, according to my judgment and
experience; but, doubtless, you are the best judge of your
own affairs."
And that closed the correspondence with the Secretaries.
The gentle Jobson and the polite Parkin had retired from
the correspondence with their air of mild regret and placid
resignation just three days, when young Little found a dirty
crumpled letter on his anvil, written in pencil. It ran thus:"Turn up or youl wish you had droped it. Youl be
made so as youl never do hands turn agin, an never know what
hurt you.
(Signed)      " MOONRAKER."
Henry swore.
When he had sworn, (and, as a Briton, I think he had
denied himself that satisfaction long enough,) he caught up a
strip of steel with his pincers, shoved it into the coals, heated
it, and, in half a minute, forged two long steel nails. Ho
then nailed this letter to his wall, and wrote under it in chalk,
" I offer 101. reward to any one who will show me the coward
who wrote this, but was afraid to sign it. The writing is
peculiar, and can easily be identified."
He also took the knife that had been so ostentatiously
fixed in his door, and carried it about him night and day, with
a firm resolve to use it in self-defence, if necessary.
And now the plot thickened: the decent workmen in
Cheetham's works were passive; they said nothing offensive,
but had no longer the inclination, even if they had the power,
to interfere and restrain the lower workmen from venting their
envy and malice. Scarcely a day passed without growls and
scowls. But Little went his way haughtily, and affected not
to see, nor hear them.



43             PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
However, one day, at dinner-time, he happened, unluckily,
to be detained by Bayne in the yard, when the men came out;
and two or three of the roughs took this opportunity and began
on him at once, in the Dash Dialect, of course; they knew no
other.
A great burley forger, whose red matted hair was powdered
with coal-dust, andhis face bloated with habitual intemperance,
planted himself insolently before Henry, and said, in a very
loud voice, " How many more trade meetings are we to have
for one -     knobstick 1"
Henry replied, in a moment, " Is it my fault if your shillyshallying committees can't say yes or no to 151.? You'd say
yes to it, wouldn't you, sooner than go to bed sober? "
This sally raised a loud laugh at the notorious drunkard's
expense, and checked the storm, as a laugh generally does.
But men were gathering round, and a workman who had
heard the raised voices, and divined the row, ran out of the
works, with his apron full of blades, and his heart full of mischief. It was a grinder of a certain low type, peculiar to
Hillsborough, but quite common there, where grinders are
often the grandchildren of grinders. This degenerate face was
more canine than human; sharp as a hatchet, and with forehead villanously low; hardly any chin; and-most characteristic trait of all-the eyes, pale in colour, and tiny in size,
appeared to have come close together, to consult, and then to
have run back into the very skull, to get away from the sparks,
which their owner, and his sire, and his grandsire, had been
eternally creating.
This greyhound of a grinder flung down a lot of dull bluish
blades, warm from the forge, upon a condemned grindstone
that was lying in the yard; and they tinkled.
" --   me, if I grind cockney blades?" said he.
This  challenge  fired  a  sympathetic  handle- maker.
" Grinders are right," said he.   " We must be a -
mean lot and all, to handle his -     work."
"He has been warned enough; but he heeds none."
" Hoostle him out o' works."
"Nay, hit him o'er th' head and fling him into t' shore."
With these menacing words, three or four roughs advanced
on him, with wicked eyes; and the respectable workmen stood,
like stone statues, in cold and terrible neutrality; and Henry.
looking round, in great anxiety, found that Bayne had with
drawn,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              45
He ground his teeth, and stepped back to the wall, to hav a
tll his assailants in the front. He was sternly resolute, though
very pale, and, by a natural impulse, put his hand into his
side-pocket, to feel if he had a weapon. The knife was there,
the deadly blade with which his enemies themselves had armed
him; and, to those who could read faces, there was death in
the pale cheek and gleaming eye of this young man, so sorely
tried,
At this moment, a burly gentleman walked into the midst
of them, as smartly as Van Ambu'lgh amongst his tigers, and
said steadily, " What is to do now, lads? "  It was Cheetliam
Shimself. Bayne knew he was in the office, and had run for
him, in mortal terror, and sent him to keep the peace. " They
insult me, sir," said Henry; "though I am always civil to
them; and that grinder refuses to grind my blades, there."
" Is that so?  Step out, my lad. Did you refuse to grind
those blades? "
" Ay," said the greyhound-man, sullenly.
"Then put on your coat, and leave my premises this
minute."
" He is entitled to a week's warning, Mr. Cheetham,"
said one of the decent workmen, respectfully, but resolutely;
speaking now for the first time.
" You are mistaken, sir," replied Mr. Cheetham, in exactly
the same tone. (No stranger could have divined the speakers
were master and man.)   "He has vitiated his contract by
publicly refusing to do his work. He'll get nothing from me
but his wages up to noon this day. But you can have a week's
warning, if you want it."
" Nay, sir. I've nought against you, for my part. But
they say it will come to that, if you don't turn Little up."
" Why, what's his fault?  Come now; you are a man.
Speak up."
" Nay, I've no quarrel with the man. But he isn't straight
with the trade."
"That is the secretaries' fault, not mine," said Henry.
"They can't see I've brought a new trade in, that hurts no old
trade, and will spread, and bring money into the town."
"We are not so --      soft as swallow that," said the
bloated smith. " Thou's just come t' Hillsborough to learn
forging, and when thou'st mastered that, off to London, and
take thy -   trade with thee."
Henry coloured to the brow at the inferior workman's



44           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
vanity and its concomitant, detraction. But he governed himself, by a mighty effort, and said, " Oh, that's your grievance
now, is it? Mr. Cheetham-sir-will you ask some respectable
grinder to examine these blades of mine? "
" Certainly. You are right, Little. The man to judge a
forger's work is a grinder, and not another forger. Reynolds,
just take a look at them, will ye? "
A wet grinder of a thoroughly different type and race from
the greyhound, stepped forward. He was thick-set in body,
fresh-coloured, and of a square manly countenance.    lie
examined the blades carefully, and with great interest.
" Well," said Henry, " were they forged by a smith, or a
novice that is come here to learn anvil work? "
Reynolds did not reply to him, nor to Mr. Cheetham: he
turned to the men. "Mates, I'm none good at lying. Hand
that forged these has nought to learn in Hillsbolo', nor any
other shop."
" Thank you, Mr. Reynolds," said Henry, in a choking
voice: " that is the first gleam of justice that I-- "  He
could say no more.
" Come, don't you turn soft for a word or two," said
Cheetham. "You'll wear all this out in time. Go to the
office. I have something to say to you."
The something was soon said. It amounted to this" Stand by me, and I will stand by you."
" Well, sir," said Henry, " I think I must leave you if
the committees refuse my offer. It is hard for one man to
fight a couple of trades in such a place as this. But I'm firm
in one thing: until those -that govern the unions say 'no' to
my offer, I shall go on working, and the scum of the trades
shan't frighten me away from my forge."
" That's right; let the blackguards bluster. Bayne tells
me you have had another anonymous."
" Yes, sir."
" Well, look here: you must take care of yourself, outside
the works; but I'll take care of you inside. Here, Bayne,
write a notice that, if any man molests, intimidates, or affronts
Mr. Little, in my works, I'll take him myself to the town-hall,
and get him two months directly.   Have somebody at the
gate, to put a printed copy of that into every man's hand as
he leaves."
" Thank you, sir " said Henry, warmly.   "But ought
not the police to afford me protection, outside?"



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              45
" The police! You might as well go to the beadle. No;
Shange your lodging, if you think they know it. Don't leI
them track you home. Buy a brace of pistols, and, if they
catch you in a dark place, and try to do you, give them a
barrel or two before they can strike a blow. Not one of them
will ever tell the police, not if you shot his own brother dead
at that game. The law is a dead letter here, sir. You've
nothing to expect from it, and nothing to fear."
" Good heavens! Am I in England? "
"In England?  No. You are in Hillsborough." >
This epigram put Cheetham in good humour with himself,
and when Henry told him he did not feel quite safe, even in
his own forge, nor in his handling-room, and gave his reasons,
" Oh," said cheerful Cheetham, " that is nothing. Yours is
a box-lock; the blackguard will have hid in the works at
night, and taken the lock off, left his writing, and then screwed
the lock on again: that is nothing to any Hillsborough hand.
But I'll soon stop that game. Go you to Chestnut Street,
and get two first-class Bramah locks.  There's a pocketknife forge upstairs, close to your handling-room. I'll send
the pocket-knife hand downstairs, and you fasten the Bramah
locks on both doors, and keep the keys yourself. See to that
now at once: then your mind will be easy. And I shall be
in the works all day now, and every day; come to me directly,
if there is anything fresh."
Henry's forge was cold, by this time; so he struck work,
and spent the afternoon in securing his two rooms with the
Bramah locks. He also took Cheetham's advice, in another
particular. Instead of walking home, he took a cab, and got
the man to drive rapidly to a certain alley. There he left the
cab, ran down the alley, and turned a corner, and went home
round about. He doubled like a hare, and dodged like a
criminal evading justice.
But the next morning he felt a pleasing sense of security
when he opened his forge-room with the Bramah key, and
found no letters nor threats of any kind had been able to
penetrate.
Moreover, all this time you will understand he was visiting
4' Woodbine Cottage " twice a week, and carving Grace
Garden's bust.
Those delightful hours did much to compensate him for
his troubles in the town, and were even of some service to
him in training him to fence with the trades of HIillsborough:



16

PUT Y0U1MSELF IN IM    PLAXC1E

for at "Woodbine Villa" he had to keep an ardent passion
within the strict bounds of reverence, and in the town he had
constantly to curb another passion, wrath, and keep it within
the bounds of prudence. These were kindred exercises of
self-restraint, and taught him self-government beyond his
years.  But what he benefited most by, after all, was the
direct and calming effect upon his agitated heart, and irritated
nerves, that preceded, and accompanied, and followed these
sweet, tranquillizing visits. They were soft, solacing, and
soothing; they were periodical, and certain. He could count
on leaving his cares, and worries, twice every week, at the
door of that deal villa; and when he took them up again,
they were no longer the same; heavenly balm had been shed
over them and over his boiling blood.
One Saturday he heard, by a side-wind, that the unions at
a general meeting had debated his case, and there had been
some violent speeches, and no decision come to; but the
majority adverse to him. This discouraged him sadly, and
his yearning heart turned all the more towards his haven of
rest, and the hours, few but blissful, that awaited him.
About eleven o'clock, that same day, the postman brought
him a letter, so vilely addressed, that it had been taken to
two or three places, on speculation, before it reached its
destination.
Little saw at once it was another anonymous communication. But he was getting callous to these missives, and
he even took it with a certain degree of satisfaction. " Well
done, Bramah! Obliged to send their venom by post now."
This was the feeling uppermost in his mind. In short, he
opened the letter with as much contempt as anger.
But he had no sooner read the foul scrawl, than his heart
died within him.
"Thou's sharp but not sharp enow. We know where
thou goes coorting up hill. Window is all glass and ripe for
a Peter shall blow the house tatums. There's the stuff in
Hillsbro and the men that have done others so, and will do
her job as wells thine. Powders a good servant but a bad
master.
SONE WHO MEANS DOING WHAT HE SAYS."
At this diabolical threat, young Little leaned sick and
broken over'the handle of his bellows.
Th3n he got up, and went to Mr. Cheetham, and said,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               47
patiently, " Sir, I am sorry to say I must leave you this
very day."
" Don't say that, Little, don't say that."
" Oh, it is with a heavy heart, sir; and I shall always
remember your kindness.    But a man knows when he is
beat. And I am beat now."     He hung his head in silence
awhile. Then he said in a faint voice, " This is what has
done it, sir," and handed him the letter.
Mr. Cheetham examined it, and said, " I am not surprised
at your being taken aback by this. But it's nothing new to
us; we have all been threatened in this form. Why, the very
last time I fought the trades, my wife was threatened I should
be brought home on a shutter, with my intestines sweeping
the ground. That was the purport, only it was put vernacular
and stronger. And they reminded me that the old gal's
clothes (that is Mrs. Cheetham: she is only twenty-six, and
the prettiest lass in Coventry, and has a row of ivories
that would do your heart good: now these Hillsborough
hags haven't got a set of front teeth among 'em, young or
old.) Well, they told me the old gal's clothes could easily
be spoiled, and her doll's face and all, with a penn'orth of
vitriol."
"The monsters! "
"But it was all brag. These things are threatened fifty
times, for once they are done."
" I shall not risk it. My own skin, if you like. But not
hers: never, Mr. Cheetham: oh, never, never! "
" Well, but," said Mr. Cheetham, "she is in no danger
so long as you keep away from her.  They might fling one
of their petards in at the window, if you were there; but
otherwise, never, in this world.  No, no, Little, they are not
so bad as that. They have blown up a whole household, to
get at the obnoxious party; but they always make sure he is
there first."
Bayne was appealed to, and confirmed this; and, with
great difficulty, they prevailed on Little to remain with them,
until the unions should decide; and to discontinue his visits
to the house on the hill in the meantime. I need hardly
say they had no idea the house on the hill was "Woodbine
Villa."
He left them, and, sick at heart, turned away from Heath
Hill, and strolled out of the lower part of the town, and wandered almost at random, and sad as death.



48

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

He soon left the main road, and crossed the stile: it took
Lim by the side of a babbling brook, and at the edge of a
picturesque wood. Ever and anon he came to a water-wheel,
and above the water-wheel a dam made originally by art, but
now looking like a sweet little lake. They were beautiful
places; the wheels and their attendant works were old and
rugged& but picturesque and countrified; and the little lakes
behind, fringed by the master-grinder's garden, were strangely
peaceful aid pretty. Here the vulgar labour of the grindstone
was made beautiful and incredibly poetic.
" Ah! "thought poor Little, " how happy a workman must
be that plies his trade here in the fresh air. And how unfortunate I am to be tied to a power-wheel, in that filthy town,
instead of being here, where Nature turns the wheel, and the
birds chirp at hand, and the scene and the air are all purity
and peace."
One place of the kind was particularly charming. The dam
was larger than most, and sloping grass on one side, cropped
short by the grinder's sheep; on the other his strip of garden:
and bushes and flowers hung over the hedge and glassed themselves in the clear water. Below the wheel, and at one side,
was the master-grinder's.ottage, covered with creepers.
But Henry's mind was in no state to enjoy these beauties.
He envied them; and, at last, they oppressed him, and he
turned his back on them, and wandered, disconsolate, home.
He sat down on a stool by his mother, and laid his beating
temples on her knees.
" What is it, my darling?" said she softly.
" Well, mother, for one thing, the unions are against me,
and I see I shall have to leave Hillsborough, soon or late."
" Never mind, dear; happiness does not depend upon the
place we live in: and oh, Henry, whatever you do, never
quarrel with those terrible grinders and people. The world is
wide. Let us go back to London; the sooner the better. I
have long seen there was something worrying you. But Saturday and Monday-they used to be your bright days."
" It will come to that, I suppose," said Henry, evading her
last observation. " Yes," said he, wearily, " it will come to
that." And he sighed so piteously that she forbore to press
him. She had not the heart to cross-examine her suffering
child.
That evening, mother and son sat silent by the fire: Henry
hr,d his own sad and bitter thoughts; and Mrs. Little was now



PVJT YOURSE LF IN IllS PLAC19

49

brooding over the words Henry had spoken in the afternoon;
and presently her maternal anxieties found a copious vent
She related to him, one after another, all the outrages that had
been perpetrated in Hillsborough, while he was a child, and
had been, each in its turn, the town talk.
It was a subject on which, if her son had been older,
and more experienced in her sex, he would have closed her
mouth promptly, she being a woman whose own nerves had
received so frightful a shock, by the manner of her husband's
death. But, inadvertently, he let her run on, till she told him
how a poor grinder had been carried home to his wife, blinded
and scorched with gunpowder, and another had been taken
home, all bleeding, to his mother, so beaten and bruised with
life-preservers, that he had lain between life and death for
nine days, and never uttered one word all that time, in reply
to all her prayers and tears.
Now Mrs. Little began these horrible narratives with a
forced and unnatural calmness; but, by the time she got to the
last, she had worked herself up to a paroxysm of sympathy
with other wretched women in Hillsborough, and trembled all
over, like one in an ague, for herself: and at last stretched
out her shaking hands, and screamed to him, " Oh, Harry,
Harry, have pity on your miserable mother!   Think what
these eyes of mine hlvp seen-bleeding at my feet-therethere-I see it now "-(her eyes dilated terribly at the word)
-" oh, promise me, for pity's sake, that these-same-eyes
-shall never see you brought and laid down bleeding like
him /"   With this she went into violent hysterics, and frightened her son more than all the ruffians in the town had ever
frightened him.
She was a long time in this pitiable condition, and he
nursed her: but at last her convulsion ceased, and her head
rested on her son's shoulder in a pitiable languor.
Henry was always a good son: but he never loved his
mother so tenderly as he did this night. His heart yearned
over this poor panting soul, so stately in form, yet so weak,
so womanly, and loveable; his playmate in childhood, his
sweet preceptor in boyhood; the best fiiend and most unselfish
lover he had, or could ever hope to have, on earth; dear to
him by her long life of loving sacrifice, and sacred by that
their great calamity, which had fallen so muck heavier on her
than on him.
He soothed her, he fondled her, he kneeled at her feet, and



5U            PUT TOUISELP IN HIS PLACE.
promised her most faithfully he would never be brought home
to her bruised or bleeding. No: if the unions rejected his
offer he would go back to London with her at once.
And so, thrust from Hillsborough by the trades, -and by his
fears for Miss Carden, and also drawn from it by his mother's
terrors, he felt himself a feather on the stream of Destiny;
and left off struggling: beaten, heart-sick, and benumbed, he
let the current carry him like any other dead thing that drifts,
He still plied the hammer, but in a dead-alive way.
He wrote a few cold lines to Mr. Jobson, to say that he
thought it was time for a plain answer to be given to a business
proposal. But, as he had no great hope the reply would be
favourable, he awaited it in a state bordering on apathy. And
so passed a miserable week.
And all this time she, for whose sake he denied himself the
joy and consolation of her company, though his heart ached
and pined for it, had hard thoughts of him, and vented them
too to Jael Dence.
The young are so hasty in all their judgments.
While matters were in this condition, Henry found, one
morning, two fresh panes of glass broken in his window.
In these hardware works the windows seldom or never
open: air is procured in all the rooms by the primitive method
of breaking a pane here and a pane there; and the general
effect is as unsightly as a human mouth where teeth and holes
alternate.  The incident therefore was nothing, if it had
occurred in any other room; but it was not a thing to pass
over in this room, secured by a Bramah lock, the key of which
was in Henry's pocket: the panes must have been broken from
the outside. It occurred to him directly that a stone had been
thrown in with another threatening scrawl.
But, casting his eye all round, he saw nothing of the kind
about.
Then, for a moment, a graver suspicion crossed his mind:
might not some detonating substance, of a nature to explode
when trodden upon, have been flung in? Hillsborough excelled
in deviltries of this kind.
Henry thought cf his mother, and would not treat the matter
lightly or unsuspiciously. He stood still till he had lighted a
lucifer match, and examined the floor of his room. Nothing,
He lighted a candle, and examined all the premises.
Nothing.
But, when he brought his candle to the window, he made



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              51
a discovery: the window had two vertical iron uprights, about
three-quarters of an inch in circumference: and one of these
revealed to his quick eye a bright horizontal line. It had been
sawed with a fine saw.
Apparently an attempt had been made to enter his room
from outside.
The next question was, had that attempt succeeded?
He tried the bar: it was not quite cut through.
He locked the forge up directly, and went to his handlingroom.   There he remained till Mr. Cheetham  entered the
works; then he went to him, and begged him to visit his
forge.
Mr. Cheetham came directly, and examined the place carefully.
He negatived, at once, the notion that any Hillsborough
hand had been unable to saw through a bar of that moderate
thickness. "No," said he, "they were disturbed, or else
some other idea struck them all of a sudden; or else they
hadn't given themselves time, and are coming again to-morrow.
I hope they are. By six o'clock to-night, I'll have a common
wooden shutter hung with six good hinges on each side, easy
to open at the centre; only, across the centre, I'll fix a
Waterloo cracker inside."
" A Waterloo cracker! "
" Ay, but such a one as you never saw. I shall make it
myself. It shall be only four inches long, but as broad as my
hand, and enough detonating powder in it to blow the shutter
fifty feet into the air: and, if there should be one of Jobson's
lads behind the shutter at the time, why, he'll learn flying,
and nought to pay for wings."
" Why, sir, you are planning the man's death! "
" And what is he planning? Light your forge, and leave
the job to me. I'm Hillsborough too: and they've put my
blood up at last."
While Henry lighted his forge, Mr. Cheetham whipped out
a rule, and measured the window exactly. This done, he went
down the stairs, and crossed the yard to go to his office.
But, before he could enter it, a horrible thing occurred in
the room he had just left; so horrible, it made him, brave as
he was, turn and scream like a woman.
Some miscreant, by a simple but ingenious means, which
afterwards transpired, had mixed a quantity of gunpowder with
the smithy-slack or fine cinders of Henry's forge. The moment
E2



2d           PUT YOU1SELP IN HIS PLACE.
the forge was hot, the powder ignited with a tremendous thud,
a huge mass of flame rushed out, driving the coals with it,
like shot from a gun; Henry, scorched, blackened, and blinded,
was swept, as by a flaming wind, against the opposite wall:
then, yelling, and stark mad with fright (for nothing drives
men out of their wits like an explosion in a narrow space), he
sprang at the window, head foremost, and with such velocity,
that the sawed iron snapt like a stick of barley-sugar, and out
he went head foremost; and this it was made Cheetham scream,
to see him head downwards, and the paving-stones below.
But the aperture was narrow: his body flew through, but
his right arm went round the unbroken upright, and caught it
in the bend of the elbow.
Then Cheetham roared, " Hold on, Little! Hold on, I
tell you! "
The scared brain of a man accustomed to obey received
the command almost without the mind; and the grinders and
forgers, running wildly into the yard, saw the obnoxious workman, black as a cinder from head to foot, bleeding at the face
from broken glass, hanging up there by one hand, moaning
with terror, and looking down with dilating eye, while thick
white smoke rushed curling out, as if his body was burning.
Death by suffocation was at his back, and broken bones awaited
him below.
CHAPTER VI.
AT sight of this human cinder, hanging by one hand between
two deaths, every sentiment but humanity vanished from the
ruggedest bosom, and the skilled workmen set themselves to
save their unpopular comrade with admirable quickness and
judgment: two new wheel-bands, that had just come into the
works, were caught up in a moment, and four workmen ran
with them and got below the suspended figure: they then
turned back to back, and, getting the bands over their
shoulders, pulled hard against each other. This was necessary to straighten the bands: they weighed half a hundredweight each. Others stood at the centre of the bands, and
directed Little where to drop, and stood ready to catch him
should he bound off them.
But now matters took an unexpected turn. Little, to all



PUTI'I YOURSELF IN HIS PLNCE.

58

appearance, was blind and deaf. He hung there, moaning,
and glaring, and his one sinewy arm suppdrted his muscular
but light frame almost incredibly. He was out of his senses
or nearly.
" Let thyself come, lad," cried a workman, " we are all
right to catch thee."
He made no answer, but hung there glaring and moaning.
" The man will drop noane, till he swouns," said anothci,
after watching him keenly.
" Then get you closer to the wall, men," cried Cheetham,
in great anxiety. " He'll come like a stone, when he does
come."  This injunction was given none too soon: the men
had hardly shifted their positions, -when Little's hand opened,
and he came down like lead, with his hands all abroad, and
his body straight; but his knees were slightly bent, and he
caught the bands just below the knee, and bounded off them
into the air, like a cricket-ball. But many hands grabbed at
him, and the grinder Reynolds caught him 1y the shoulder,
and they rolled on the ground together, very little the worse
for that tumble. "Well done! well done! " cried Cheetham.
" Let him lie, lads, he is best there for awhile; and run for
a doctor, one of you."
" Ay, run for Jack Doubleface," cried several voices at
once.
" Now, make a circle, and give him air, men."
Then they all stood in a circle, and eyed the blackened
and quivering figure with pity and sympathy, while the canopy
of white smoke bellied overhead. Nor were those humane
sentiments silent; and the roughs seemed to be even more
overcome than the others: no brains were required to pity
this poor fellow now; and so strong an appeal to their hearts,
through their senses, roused their good impulses and rare
sensibilities. Oh, it was strange to hear good and kindly
sentiments come out in the Dash dialect.
" It's a -    shame! "
" There lies a good workman done for by some -   thief,
that wasn't fit to blow his bellows, -  him  "
" Say he was a cockney, he was always -- civil."
"And life's as sweet to him as to any man in Hillsborough."
" Hold your -     tongue, he's coming to."
Henry did recover his wits euough to speak; and what do
you think was his first word?



64           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
He clasped his hands together, and said,-" MY MOTHER I
Ou, DON'T LET HER KNOW!"
This simple cry went through many a rough heart; a loud
gulp or two were heard soon after, and more than one hard
and coaly cheek was channelled by sudden tears. But now a
burly figure came rolling in; they drew back and silenced each
other.-" The Doctor! "   This was the remarkable person
they called Jack Doubleface. Nature had stuck a philosophic
head, with finely-cut features, and a mouth brimful of finesse,
on to a corpulent and ungraceful body, that yawed from side to
side as he walked.
The man of art opened with two words. He looked up at
the white cloud, which was now floating away; sniffed the
air, and said, "Gunpowder!"    Then he looked down at
Little, and said, " Ah!" half drily, half sadly. Indeed several
sentences of meaning condensed themselves into that simple
interjection. At this moment, some men, whom curiosity had
drawn to Henry's forge, came back to say the forge had been
blown up, and " the bellows torn limb from jacket, and the
room strewed with ashes."
The Doctor laid a podgy hand on the patient's wrist: the
touch was light, though the fingers were thick and heavy.
The pulse, which had been very low, was now galloping and
bounding frightfully. "Fetch him a glass of brandy-andwater," said Dr. Amboyne. (There were still doctors in
Hillsborough, though not in London, who would have had
him bled on the spot.)
"Now, then, a surgeon! Which of you lads operates on
the eye, in these works? "
A lanky file-cutter took a step forward. "I am the one
that takes the motes out of their eyes."
" Then be good enough to show me his eye.'
The file-cutter put out a hand with fingers prodigiously
long and thin, and deftly parted both Little's eyelids with his
finger and thumb, so as to show the whole eye.
" Hum! " said the Doctor, and shook his head.
He then patted the sufferer all over, and the result of that
examination was satisfactory. Then came the brandy-andwater; and while Henry's teeth were clattering at the glass
and he was trying to sip the liquid, Dr. Amboyne suddenly
lifted his head, and took a keen survey of the countenances
round him. He saw the general expression of pity on the
rugged faces. He also observed one rough fellow who wore a



PUT YOURSELF IN 1119 PLACES

55

strange wild look; the man seemed puzzled, scared, confused,
like one half awakened from some hideous dream. This was
the grinder who had come into the works in place of the
hand Cheetham had discharged for refusing to grind cockney
blades.
" Hum!" said Dr. Amboyne, and appeared to be going
into a brown study.
But he shook that off, and said briskly, " Now, then, what
was his crime? Did he owe some mutual-aid society six-andfourpence?'"
"That's right," said Reynolds, sullenly; " throw everything on the union. If we knew who it was, he'd lie by the
side of this one in less than a minute, and, happen, not get up
again so soon."  A growl of assent confirmed the speaker's
words. Cheetham interposed and drew Amboyne aside, and
began to tell him who the man was and what the dispute; but
Amboyne cut the latter explanation short. " What," said he,
"is this the carver whose work I saw up at Mr. Garden's?"
" This is the very man, no doubt."
" Why, he's a sculptor: Praxiteles in wood. A fine choice
they have made for their gunpowder, a workman that did
honour to the town."
A faint flush of gratified pride coloured the ghastly cheek
a moment.
" Doctor, shall I live to finish the bust?" said Henry,
piteously.
" That and hundreds more, if you obey me. The fact is,
Mr. Cheetham, this young man'is not hurt, but his nerves
have received a severe shock; and the sooner he is out of this
place the better. Ah, there is my brougham at the gate.
Come, put him into it, and I'll take him to the infirmary."
" No," said Little, " I won't go there; my mother would
hear of it."
"Oh, then your mother is not to know? "
"Not for all the world I She has had trouble enough.
I'll just wash my face and buy a clean shirt, and she'll never
know what has happened. It would kill her. Oh, yes, it
would kill her "
The Doctor eyed him with warm approval. "You are a
fine young fellow. I'll see you safe through this, and help
you throw dust in your mother's eyes. If you go to her with
that scratched face, we are lost. Come, get into my carriage,
and home with me,"



56           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Mayn't I wash my face first? And look at my shirt; as
black as a cinder."
" Wash your face, by all means; but you can button your
coat over your shirt."
The coat was soon brought, and so was a pail of water and
a piece of yellow soap. Little dashed his head and face into
the bucket, and soon inked all the water. The explosion had
filled his hair with black dust, and grimed his face and neck
like a sweep's. This ablution made him clean, but did not
bring back his ruddy colour. He looked pale and scratched.
The men helped him officiously into the carriage, though
he could have walked very well alone.
Henry asked leave to buy a clean shirt. The Doctor said
he would lend him one at home.
While Henry was putting it on Doctor Amboyne ordered
his dogcart instead of his brougham, and mixed some medicines. And soon Henry found himself seated in the dogcart,
with a warm cloak over him, and whisking over the stones of
Hillsborough.
SAll this had been done so rapidly and unhesitatingly that
Henry, injured and shaken as he was, had yielded passive
obedience. But now he began to demur a little. "But where
are we going, sir? " he asked.
" To change the air and the scene. I'll be frank with
you-you are man enough to bear the truth-you have received a shock that will very likely bring on brain-fever, unless
you get some sleep to-night. But you would not sleep in
Hillsborough. You'd wake a dozen times in the night, trembling like an aspen leaf, and fancying you were blown up
again."
" Yes, but my mother, sir! If I don't go home at seven
o'clock, she'll find me out."
" If you went crazy, wouldn't she find you out? Come,
my young friend, trust to my experience, and to the interest
this attempt to murder you, and your narrow escape, has
inspired in me. When I have landed you in the Temple of
Health, and just wasted a little advice on a pig-headed patient
in the neighbourhood (he is the Squire of the place), I'll drive
back to Hillsborough, and tell your mother some story or other:
you and I will concoct that together as we go."
At this Henry was all obedience, and indeed thanked him,
with the tears in his eyes, for his kindness to a poor stranger.
Dr, Amboyne smiled. " If you were not a stranger, you



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               57
would know that saving cutlers' lives is my hobby, and one in
which I am steadily resisted and defeated, especially by the
cutlers themselves; why, I look upon you as a most considerate
and obliging young man for indulging me in this way. If you
had been a Hillsborough hand, you would insist upon a brain.
fever, and a trip to the lunatic asylum, just to vex me, and
hinder me of my hobby."
Henry stared. This was too eccentric for him to take it
all in at once. " What! " said Dr. Amboyne, observing his
amazement. "Did you never hear of Dr. Doubleface?"
" No, sir."
"Never hear of the corpulent lunatic, who goes about the
city, chanting, like a cuckoo, ' Put yourself in his place-put
yourself in her place-in their place'? "
" No, sir, I never did."
' Then such is fame. Well, never mind that just now;
there's a time for everything. Please observe that ruined
house: the ancient family to whom it belongs are a remarkable example of the vicissitude of human affairs." He then
told him the curious ups and downs of that family, which, at
two distant periods, had held vast possessions in the county;
but were now represented by the shell of one manor-house,
and its dovecote, the size of a modern villa. Next he showed
him an obscure battle-field, and told him that story, and who
were the parties engaged; and so on. Every mile furnished
its legend, and Dr. Amboyne related them all so graphically,
that the patient's mind was literally stolen away from himself.
At last, after a rapid drive of eleven miles through the pure
invigorating air, they made a sudden turn, and entered a
pleasant and singularly rural village: they drew up at a rustic
farmhouse, clad with ivy; and Dr. Amboyne said, " This is
the Temple: here you can sleep, as safe from gunpowder, as a
field-marshal born."
The farmer's daughter came out, and beamed pleasure at
sight of the Doctor: he got down, and told her the case,
privately, and gave her precise instructions. She often interrupted the narrative with " Lawkadaisies," and other rural
interjections, and simple exclamations of pity.  She promised faithful compliance with his orders.
He then beckoned Henry in, and said, " This picture of
health was a patient of mine once, as you are now; there's
encouragement for you,  I put you under her charge. Get
I letter written to your mother, and I'll come back for it in



58           PUT YOURSELF MI    HIS PLACE.
half an hour. You had a headache, and were feverish, so you
consulted a doctor. He advised immediate rest and change
of air, and he drove you at once to this village. Write you
that, and leave the rest to me. We doctors are dissembling
dogs. We have still something to learn in curing diseases;
but at making light of them to the dying, and other branches
of amiable mendacity, we are masters."
As soon as he was gone, the comely young hostess began
on her patient. " Dear heart, sir, was it really you as was
blowed up with gunpowder? "
"Indeed it was, and not many hours ago. It seems like
a dream."
" Well, now, who'd think that, to look at you?  Why,
you are none the worse, forbye a scratch or two, and, dear
heart, I've seen a young chap bring as bad home, from courting, in these parts; and wed the lass as marked him-within
the year."
" Oh, it is not the scratches; but feel my hand, how it
trembles. And it used to be firm as a rock; for I never drink."
" So it do, I declare. Why, you do tremble all over; and
no wonder, poor soul! Come you in this minut, and sit down
a bit by the fire, while I go and make the room ready for
you."
But, as soon as he was seated by the fire, the current
began to flow again. " Well, I never liked Hillsborough folk
much-poor, mean-visaged tikes they be-but now I do hate
'em. What, blow up a decent young man like you, and a
well-favoured, and hair like jet, and eyes in your head like
sloes! But that's their ground of spite, I warrant me; the
nasty, ugly, dirty dogs.  Well, you may just snap your
fingers at them all now. They don't come out so far as this;
and, if they did, stouter men grows in this village than any
in Hillsborough: and I've only to hold up my finger, for as
little as I be, and they'd all be well ducked in father's horsepand, and then flogged home again with a good cart-whip well
laid on. And, another thing, whatever we do, Squire he will
make it good in law: he is gentle, and we are simple; but our
folk and his has stood by each other this hundred year and
more. But, la, I run on so, and you was to write a letter
again the doctor came back. I'll fetch you some paper this
minut."
She brought him writing materials, and stood by him,
with this apology, "If 'twas to your sweetheart, I'd be 6t'



PUT YOURStMnrV IN HIS PLAC.5

59

But 'tis to your mother." (With a side glance,) " She have
been a handsome woman in her day, I'll go bail."
" She is as beautiful as ever in my eyes," said Henry, tenderly. "And, oh, heaven! give me the sense to write to her
without frightening her."
" Then I won't hinder you no more with my chat," said
his hostess, with kindly good humour, and slipped away up.
stairs. She lighted a great wood fire in the bedroom, and
laid the bed and the blankets all round it, and opened the
window, and took the home-spun linen sheets out of a press,
and made the room very tidy. Then she went down again,
and the moment Henry saw her, he said: " I feel your kindness, Miss, but I don't know your name, nor where in the
world I am. His hostess smiled. " That is no secret. I'm
Martha Dence-at your service: and this is Cairnhope town."
" Cairnhope! " cried Henry, and started back, so that
his wooden chair made a loud creak upon the stones of the
farmer's kitchen.
Martha Dence stared, but said nothing; for almost at that
moment the Doctor returned, all in a hurry, fo' the letter.
Henry begged him to look at it, and see if it would do.
The Doctor read it. "Hum! " said he, "it is a very
pretty, filial letter, and increases my interest in you; give me
your hand: there. Well, it won't do: too shaky. If your
mother once sees this, I may talk till doomsday, she'll not
believe a word.  You must put off writing till to-morrow
night.  Now give me her address, for I really must get
home."
"She lives on the second floor, No. 18, Chettle Street."
"Her name? "
" Sir, if you ask for the lady that lodges on the second
floor, you will be sure to see her."
Doctor Amboyne looked a little surprised, and not very
well pleased, at what seemed a want of confidence. But he
was a man singularly cautious and candid in forming his judgments; so he forbore all comment, and delivered his final
instructions. " Here is a bottle containing only a few drops
of faba Ignatii in water. It's an innocent medicine, and has
sometimes a magical effect in soothing the mind and nerves.
A tablespoonful three times a day. And this is a sedative,
which you can take if you find yourself quite unable to sleep.
But I wouldn't have recourse to it unnecessarily; for these
sedatives are uncertain in their operation; and when a man



bU           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
is turned upside down, as you have been, they sometimes
excite. Have a faint light in your bedroom. Tie a cord to
the bell-rope, and hold it in your hand all night. Fix your
mind on that cord, and keep thinking, ' This is to remind me
that I am eleven miles from Hillsborough, in a peaceful village,
safe from all harm.' To-morrow, walk up to the top of Cairnhope Peak,' and inhale the glorious breeze, and look over four
counties. Write to your mother at night, and meantime, I'll
do my best to relieve her anxiety. Good-by."
Memory sometimes acts like an old flint-gun: it hangs
fire, yet ends by going off. While Dr. Amboyne was driving
home, the swarthy, but handsome, features of the workman he
had befriended seemed to enter his mind more deeply than
during the hurry, and he said to himself, " Jet black hair;
great black eyes; and olive skin; they are rare in these parts;
and, somehow, they remind me a little of her."
Then his mind went back, in a moment, over many years,
to the days when he was stalwart, but not unwieldy, and loved
a dark but peerless beauty, loved her deeply, and told his
love, and was esteemed and pitied, but another was beloved.
And so sad, yet absorbing, was the retrospect of his love,
his sorrow, and her own unhappy lot, that it blotted out of his
mind, for a time, the very youth whose features and complexion had launched him into the past.
But the moment his horse's feet rang on the stones, this
burly philosopher shook off the past, and set himself to recover
lost time. He drove rapidly to several patients, and, at six
o'clock, was at 13, Chettle Street, and asked for the lady on
the second floor. " Yes, sir; she is at home," was the reply.
"But I don't know; she lives very retired.    She hasn't
received any visits since they came. However, they rent the
whole floor, and the sitting-room fronts you."
Dr. Amboyne mounted the stair and knocked at the door.
A soft and mellow voice bade him enter. He went in, and a
tall lady in black, with plain linen collar and wristbands, rose
to receive him.  They confronted each other.   Time and
trouble had left their trace, but there were the glorious eyes,
and jet black hair, and the face, worn and pensive, but still
beautiful. It was the woman he had loved, the only one.)
"Mrs. ittle! " said he, in an indescribable tone.
"Dr. Amboyne! "
For a few moments he forgot the task he had undertaken I



PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE..61

and could only express his astonishment and pleasure at seeing
her once more.
Then he remembered why he was there; and the office he
had undertaken so lightly alarmed him now.
His first instinct was to gain time. Accordingly, he began
to chide her gently for having resided in the town and concealed it from him; then, seeing her confused and uncomfortable at that reproach, and in the mood to be relieved by any
change of topic, he glided off, with no little address, as follows:
-" Observe the consequences: here have I been most despotically rusticating a youth who turns out to be your son."
" My son! is there anything the matter with my son?
Oh, Doctor Amboyne!"
" He must have been out of sorts, you know, or he would
not have consulted me," replied the Doctor, affecting candour.
" Consult! Why, what has happened?     He was quite
well when he left me this morning."
"I doubt that. He complained of headache and fever.
But I soon found his mind was worried. A misunderstanding
with the trades 1 I was very much pleased with his face and
manner; my carriage was at the door; his pulse was high,
but there was nothing that country air and quiet will not restore.
So I just drove him away, and landed him at a farmhouse."
Mrs. Little's brow flushed at this. She was angry. But,
in a nature so gentle as hers, anger soon gave way. She turned
a glance of tearful and eloquent reproach on Doctor Amboyne.
" The first time we have ever been separated since he was
born," said she, with a sigh.
Dr. Amboyne's preconceived plan broke down that moment.
He said, hurriedly,"Take my carriage, and drive to him. Better do that
than torment yourself."
" Where is he? " asked the widow, brightening up at the
proposal.
" At Cairnhope."
At this word, Mrs. Little's face betrayed a series of emotions: first confusion, then astonishment, and at last a sort of
superstitious alarm. "At Cairnhope  " she faltered at last.
" My son at Cairnhope? "
"Pray do not torment yourself with fancies," said the
Doctor. " All this is the merest accident-the simplest thing
in the world. I cured Patty Dence of diphtheria, when it
decimated the village. She and her family are grateful; tha



62           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
air of Cairnhope has a magic effect on people who hve in smoke,
and Martha and Jael let me send them out an invalid now and
then to be reinvigorated. I took this young man there, not
knowing who he was. Go to him, if you like. But, frankly,
as his physician, I would rather you did not. Never do a wise
thing by halves. He ought to be entirely separated from all
his cares, even from yourself (who are doubtless one of them),
for five or six days. He needs no other medicine but that,
and the fine air of Cairnhope."
" Then somebody must see him every day, and tell me.
Oh! Doctor Amboyne, this is the beginning: what will the
end be?  I am miserable."
" My man shall ride there every day, and see him, and
bring you back a letter from him."
" Your man! " said Mrs. Little, a little haughtily.
Doctor Amboyne met her glance.     " If there was any
ground for alarm, should I not go myself every day? " said
he, gravely, and even tenderly.
"Forgive me," said the widow, and gave him her hand
with a sweet and womanly gesture.
The main difficulty was now got over; and Doctor Amboyne
was careful not to say too much, for he knew that his tongue
moved among pitfalls.
As Dr. Amboyne descended the stairs, the landlady held a
door ajar, and peeped at him, according to a custom of such
delicate-minded females, as can neither restrain their curiosity
nor indulge it openly. Dr. Amboyne beckoned to her, and
asked for a private interview. This was promptly accorded.
" Would ten'guineas be of any service to you, madam? "
" Eh, dear, that it would, sir. Why, my rent is just coming due."
Under these circumstances, the bargain was soon struck.
Not a syllable about the explosion at Cheetham's was to reach
the second-floor lodger's ears, and no Hillsborough journal was
to mount the stairs until the young man's return. If inquired
for, they were to be reported all sold out, and a London journal
purchased instead.
Having secured a keen and watchful ally in this good
woman, who, to do her justice, showed a hearty determination
to earn her ten guineas, Dr. Amboyne returned home, his own
philosophic pulse beating faster than it had done for some years.
He had left Mrs. Little grateful, and, apparently, in good



PUT YOURSELF' IN HfIS PILACE.

63

spirits; but, ere he had been gone an hour, the bare sgpara.
tion from her son overpowered her, and a host of vague misgivings tortured her, and she slept but little that night. By
noon next day she was thoroughly miserable; but Dr. Amboyne's
man rode up to the door in the afternoon with a cheerful line
from Henry.
"All right, dear mother. Better already. Letter by post.
" HENRY."
She detained the man, and made up a packet of things for
Cairnhope, and gave him five shillings to be sure and take them.
This was followed by a correspondence, a portion of which
will suffice to eke out the narrative.
"DEAREST M1OTHER,-I slept ill last night, and got up aching
from head to foot, as if I had been well hided. But they sent
me to the top of Cairnhope Peak, and, what with the keen air
and the glorious view, I came home and ate like a hog. That
pleased Martha Dence, and she kept putting me slices off her
own plate, till I had to cry quarter. As soon as I have addressed this letter, I'm off to bed, for it is all I can do not to
fall asleep sitting.
" I am safe to be all right to-morrow, so pray don't fret.
" I am, dear mother," &c. &c.
" DEAREST M    r1THER,-I hope you are not fretting about me.
Dr. Amboyne promised to stop all that. But do write, and say
you are not fretting and fancying all manner of things at my
cutting away so suddenly. It was the Doctor's doing. And,
mother, I shall not stay long away from you, for I slept twelve
hours at a stretch last night, and now I'm another man. But
really, I think the air of that Cairnhope Peak would cure a
fellow at his last gasp.
" Thank you for the linen, and the brusles and things.
But you are not the sort to forget anything a fellow might
want," &c.
" No, my darling son. Be in no hurry to leave Cairnhope.
Of course, love, I was alarmed at first; for I know doctors
make the best of everything; and then the first parting!-that
is always a sorrowful thing. But, now you are there, I beg
you will stay till you are quite recovered. Your letters are a
delight, and one I could not have, and you as well, you know.
" Since you are at Cairnhope,-how strange that see~s,


64           PUT 1OUlRSELF IN HIS PLACE.
pray go and see the old church, where your forefathers are
buried.  There are curious inscriptions, and some brassas
nobody could decipher when I was a girl; but perhaps you
might, you are so clever. Your grandfather's monument is in
the chancel: I want you to see it. Am I getting very old,
that my heart turns back to these scenes of my youth?
" P.S.-Who is this Martha Dence? "
"DEAR MOTHER,-Martha Donce is the farmer's daughter 1
lodge with.  She is not so pretty as her sister Jael that is with
Miss Carden; but she is a comely girl, and as good as gold,
and bespoke by the butcher. And her putting slices from her
plate to mine is a village custom I find.
"1 Mother, the people here are wonderfully good and simple.
First of all, there's farmer Dence, with his high bald head, like
a patriarch of old; and he sits and beams with benevolence,
but does not talk much. But he lets me see I can stay with
him six years, if I choose. Then, there's Martha, hospitality
itself, and ready to fly at my enemies like a mastiff. She is a
little hot in the temper; feathers up in a moment; but, at a
soft word, they go down again as quick. Then, there's the
village blacksmith. I call him ' The gentle giant.' He is a
tremendous fellow in height, and size, and sinew; but such
a kind, sweet-tempered chap. He could knock down an ox,
yet he wouldn't harm a fly. I am his idol: I sauntered into
his smithy, and forged him one or two knives; and of course
he had never seen the hammer used with that nicety; but
instead of hating me, as the bad forgers in Hillsborough do, he
regularly worships me, and comes blushing up to the farmhouse after hours, to ask after me and get a word with me. He
is the best whistler in the parish, and sometimes we march
down the village at night, arm-in-arm, whistling a duet. This
charms the natives so that we could take the whole village out
at our heels, and" put them down in another parish. But the
droll thing is they will not take me for what I am. My gentle
gia.t would say ' Sir' till I pretended to be affronted; the
women and girls would bob me curtseys, and the men and
white-headed boys will take off their hats, and pull their front
hair to me. If a skilled workman wants to burst with vanity,
let him settle in Cairnhope."
[EXTRACT.]
"Martha Pence and I have had words, and what do you
think it was about?  I happened to let out my opinion of



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               65
Mr. Raby. Mother, it was like setting a match to a barrel of
gunpowder. She turned as red as fire, and said, ' Who be
you that speaks against Raby to Dence?'
"I tried to pacify her, but it was no use.  Don't speak to
me,' said she. 'I thought better of you. You and I are out.'
I bowed before the storm, and, to give her time to cool, I
obeyed your wishes, and walked to Cairnhope old church. What
a curious place! But I could not get in; and, on my return,
I found Mr. Raby keeps the key. Now, you can't do a thing
here, or say a word, but what it is known all over the village.
So Martha Dence meets me at the door, and says, very stiffly,
she thought I might have told her I wanted to see the old
church. I pulled a long, penitent face, and said, ' Yes; but,
unfortunately, I was out of her good books, and had orders not
to speak to her.' ' Nay,' says she, ' life is too short for long
quarrels. You are a stranger, and knew no better.' Then she
told me to wait five minutes while she put on her bonnut, as
she calls it. Well, I waited five-and-forty minutes, and she
put on her bonnut, and so many other smart things, that we
couldn't possibly walk straight up to the old church. We had
to go round by the butcher's shop, and order half a pound of
suet; no less. 'And bring it yourself, this evening,' said I,
'or it might get lost on the road.' Says the butcher, ' Well,
sir, that is the first piece of friendly advice any good Christian
has bestowed-    ' But I heard no more, owing to Martha
chasing me out of the shop.
" To reach the old church we had to pass the old ruffian's
door. Martha went in; I sauntered on, and sh - soon came
after me, with the key in her hand. ' But,' said she, ' he told
me if my name hadn't been Dence he wouldn't trust me with
it, though I went on my bended knees.'
"We opened the church-door, and I spent an hour inside,
examining and copying inscriptions for you. But, when I
came to take up a loose brass, to try and decipher it, Martha
came screaming to me, ' Oh, put it down! put it down! I
pledged my word to Squire you should not touch them brasses.'
What could I do, mother? The poor girl was in an agony.
This old ruffian has, somehow, bewitched her, and her father
too, in a sort of superstitious devotion that I can't help
respecting, unreasonable as it is. So I dropped the brass,
and took to reflecting. And I give you my thoughts.
"What a pity and a shame that a building of this size
should lie idle! If it was mine I would carefully remove all
F



66           PUT YOUR1SELF 11 fII S PLACE.
the monuments, and the dead bones, etcetera, to the naw
church, and turn this old building into a factory, or a set of
granaries, or something useful. It is as great a sin to waste
bricks and mortar as it is bread," &c.
" MY DEAR HARRY,-Your dear sprightly letters delight me,
and reconcile me to the separation; for I see that your health
is improving every day, by your gaiety; and this makes me
happy, though I cannot quite be gay.
" Your last letter was very amusing, yet, somehow, it set
me thinking, long and sadly; and some gentle remarks from
Dr. Amboyne (he called yesterday) have also turned my mind
the same way. Time has softened the terrible blow that
estranged my brother and myself, and I begin to ask myself,
was my own conduct perfect? was my brother's quite without
excuse? I may have seen but one side, and been too hasty in
judging him. At all events, I would have you, who are a man,
think for yourself, and not rush into too harsh a view of that
unhappy quarrel. Dearest, family quarrels are family misfortunes: why should they go down to another generation?
You frighten me, when you wonder that Nathan and his family
(I had forgotten his name was Dence) are attached to Mr. Raby.
Why, with all his faults, my brother is a chivalrous, highminded gentleman; his word is his bond, and he never deserts
a friend, however humble; and I have heard our dear father
say that, for many generations, uncommon acts of kindness had
passed between that family of yeomen and the knights and
squires of Raby.
"And now, dear, I am going to be very foolish. But, if
these Dences are as great favourites with him as they were
with my father, she could easily get you into the house some
day, when he is out hunting; and I do want you to see one
thing more before you come back from Cairnhope-your
mother's picture. It hangs, or used to hang, in the great
dining-room, nearly opposite the fireplace.
" I blush at my childishness, but I should like my child to
see what his mother was, when she brought him into the world,
that sad world in which he has been her only joy and consolation.
"( P.S.-What an idea! Turn that dear old church into a
factory I But you are a young man of the day. And a
wonderful day it is; I cannot quite keep up with it."
" DEAR MOTHER,-I have been there. Mr. Raby is a borough
magistrate, as well as a county justice; and was in Hillsborough



"         Pr7e YOtURSLF IN HIS PLACE.              67
all day to-day, Martha Dence took me to Raby Hall, and her
name was a passport. When I got to the door, I felt as if
something pulled me, and said, ' It's an enemy's house; don't
go in.' I wish I had obeyed the warning; but I did not.
" Well, I have seen your portrait.   It is lovely. It
surpasses any woman I ever saw. And it must have been
your image, for it is very like you now, only in the bloom of
your youth.
" And now, dear mother, having done something for you,
quite against my own judgment, and my feelings too, please do
something for me. Promise me never to mention Mr. Raby's
name to me again, by letter, or by word of mouth either. He
is not a gentleman; he is not a man; he is a mean, spiteful,
cowardly cur. I'll keep out of his way, if I can; but if he
gets in mine, I shall give him a devilish good hiding, then and
there, and I'll tell him the reason why; and I will not tell you.
" Dear mother, I did intend to stay till Saturday, but,
after this, I shall come back to you to-morrow. My own sweet
dove of a mammy: who but a beast could hurt or affront you?
" So no more letters from your
"Dutiful and affectionate son,
" HARRY."
Next day young Little took leave of his friends in Cairnhope, with a promise to come over some Sunday, and see them
all. He borrowed a hooked stick of his devotee, the blacksmith, and walked off with his little bundle over his shoulder,
in high health and spirits, and ripe for anything.
SSome successful men are so stout-hearted, their miuhs
seem never to flinch. Others are elastic; they give way, and
appear crushed; but, let the immediate pressure be removed,
they fly back again, and their enemy finds he has not gained
an inch. Henry's was of this sort; and, as he swung along
through the clear brisk air, the world seemed his football once
more.
This same morning Jael Dence was to go to Cairnhope, at
her own request.
She packed her box, and corded it, and brought it down
herself, and put it in the passage, and the carrier was to call
for it at one. As for herself, four miles of omnibus, and the
other seven on foot, was child's play to her, whose body was
as lusty and active as her heart was tender and clinging.
She came into the drawing-room, with her bonnet and



68           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
shawl on, and the tear in her eye, to bid Miss Garden good-by.
Two male friends would have parted in five minutes; but this
pair were a wonderful time separating, and still there was
always something to say, that kept Grace detaining, or Jael
lingering; and, when she had been going, going, going, for
more than half-an-hour, all of a sudden she cried out, " Oh I
There he is!" and flushed all over.
" Who?" asked Grace, eagerly.
" The dark young man. He is at the door now, Miss.And me going away," she faltered.
" Well then, why go till he has paid his visit? Sit down.
You needn't take off your bonnet."
Miss Garden then settled herself, took up her work, and
prepared to receive her preceptor as he deserved, an intention
she conveyed to Jael by a glance, just as Henry entered,
blooming with exercise and the keen air, and looking extremely
handsome and happy.
His reception was a chilling bow from Miss Carden, and
from Jael a cheek blushing with pleasure at the bare sight of
him, but an earnest look of mild reproach. It seemed cruel of
him to stay away so long, and then come just as she was going.
This reception surprised Henry, and disappointed him;
however he constrained himself, and said politely, but rather
coldly, that some unpleasant circumstances had kept him away;
but he hoped now to keep his time better.
" Oh, pray consult your own convenience entirely," said
Miss Carden. " Come, when you have nothing better to do;
that is the understanding."
'" I should be always coming at that rate."
Grace took no notice. " Would you like to see how I look
with my one eyebrow? " said she. " Jael, please fetch it."
While Jael was gone for the bust, Henry took a humbler
tone, and in a low voice began to excuse his absence; and I
think he would have told the real truth, if he had been
encouraged a little; but he was met with a cold and withering
assurance that it was a matter of no consequence. Henry
thought this unfair, and, knowing in his own heart it was
ungrateful, he rebelled. He bit his lip, sat down as gloomy as
the grave, and resumed his work, silent and sullen.
As for Jael, she brought in the bust, and then sat down
with her bonnet on, quaking; for she felt sure that, in such a
dismal dearth of conversation, Miss Garden would be certain to
turn round very soon, and say, " Well, Jae], you can go now."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               69
But this Quakers' meeting was interrupted by a doctor
looking in to prescribe for Miss Carden's cold. The said cold
was imperceptible to vulgar eyes, but Grace had detected it,
and had written to her friend, Dr. Amboyne, to come and
make it as imperceptible to herself as to the spectator.
In rolled the Doctor, and was not a little startled at sight
of Little.
" Hallo I " cried he. "What, cured already? Cairnhope
for ever! " He then proceeded to feel his pulse instead of
Miss Carden's, and inspect his eye, at which Grace Carden
stared.
"What, is he unwell? "
" Why, a man does not get blown up with gunpowder with
out some little disturbance of the system."
" Blown up with gunpowder! What do you mean?"
"What, have you not heard about it? Don't you read the
newspapers? "
" No; never."
" Merciful powers! But has he not told you? "
" No; he tells us nothing."
" Then I'll tell you. It is of no use your making faces at
me. There is no earthly reason why she should be kept in the
dark. These Hillsborough trades want to drive this young man
out of the town: why-is too long and intricate for you to
follow. He resists this tyranny, gently, but firmly."
" I'd resist it furiously," said Grace.
" The consequence is, they wrote him several threatening
letters; and, at last, some caitiff put gunpowder into his foge;
it exploded, and blew him out of a second-floor window."
"Oh! oh!" screamed Grace Carden and Jael; and by
one womanly impulse they both put their hands before their
faces, as if to shut out the horrible picture.
" What is that for? " said the Doctor. " You see he is
all right now. But, I promise you, he cut a very different
figure when I saw him directly afterwards; he was scorched as
black as a coal -  "
" Oh, Doctor, don't; pray don't. Oh, sir, why did you not
tell me? "
" And his face bleeding," continued the merciless Doctor.
"Oh dear! oh dear! "  And the sweet eyes were turned,
all swimming in water, upon Henry, with a look of angelic pity.
" His nerves were terribly shaken, but there were no bones
broken. I said to myself, ' ie must sleep or go mad, and he



70           PUT YOURSELF IN HIIS PLACE.
will not sleep in the town that has blown him up.' I just
drove the patient off to peace and pure air, and confided him to
one of the best creatures in England-Martha Dence."
Jael uttered an exclamation of wonder, which drew attentian to her and her glowing cheeks.
" Oh yes, Miss Jael," said Henry, "I was going to tell
you. I have been a fortnight with your people, and, if I live
a hundred years, I shall never forget their goodness to me.
God bless them."
"'Twas the least they could do," said Jael, softly.
" What a pity you are going out. I should have liked to
talk to you about your father, and Martha, and George the
blacksmith. Doctor, who would live in a town after Cairnhope? "
Jael's fingers trembled at her bonnet-strings, and, turning
a look of piteous supplication on Grace, she faltered out, " If
you please, Miss, might I stay over to-day? "
" Of course. And then he will tell you all about your
people, and that will do just as well as you going to see them;
and better."
Off came Jael's bonnet with wonderful celerity.
" Get the whole story out of him," said Dr. Amboyne.
"It is well worth your attention. As for me, I must go as
soon as I have prescribed for you. What is the matter? "
" The matter is that there's nothing the matter; prescribe
for that. And that I'm a goose-prescribe for that-and don't
read the newspapers; prescribe for that."
" Well, then, I prescribe the Hillsborough Liberal. It
has drawn a strong picture of this outrage, and shown its teeth
to the trades. And, if I might advise a lady of your age and
experience, I would say, in future always read the newspapers,
They are, compared with books, what machinery is compared
with hand-labour. But, in this one instance, go to the fountain-head, and ask Mr. Henry Little there to tell you his own
tragedy, with all the ins and outs."
" Ah   if he would," said Grace, turning her eyes on
Henry. " But he is not so communicative to poor us. Is
he, Jael? "
" No, Miss."
" He never even told us his name. Did he, Jael?
" No, Miss. He is very close."
" Open him then," said the Dcctor. " Come, come, there
are a pair of you; and evidently disposed to act in concer;



PUT YOURSELF IN MIS PLACE.              71
If you cannot turn a man inside out, I disown you; you are a
discredit to your sex." He then shook hands with all three of
them, and rolled away.
" Jael," said Miss Garden, "oblige me by ringing the bell."
A servant entered.
" Not at home to any human creature." said the young.
lady.
The servant retired.
" And, if they see me at the window, all the worse--for
them. Now, Mr. Little?"
Henry complied, and told the whole story, with the exception of the threat to his sweetheart; and passed two delightful
hours. Who is so devoid of egotism as not to like to tell his
own adventures, to sympathizing beauty? He told it in
detail, and even read them portions of the threatening letters;
and, as he told it, their lovely eyes seemed on fire; and they
were red, and pale, by turns. He told it, like a man, with
dignity, and sobriety, and never used an epithet. It was Miss
Garden who supplied the " Monsters! " " Villains!" " Cowards! " " Wretches! " at due intervals. And once sfe started
from her seat, and said she could not bear it. " I see through
it all," she cried. " That Jobson is a hypocrite; and he is
at the bottom of it all. I hate him; and Parkin worse. As
for the assassin, I hope God, who saw him, will punish him.
What I want to do is to kill Jobson and Parkin, one after
another; kill them-kill them-kill them-I'll tell papa."
As for Jael, she could not speak her mind, but she pantea
heavily, and her fingers worked convulsively, and clutched
themselves very tight at last.
When he had done his narrative, he said sadly, " I despise
these fellows as much as you do; but they are too many for
me. I am obliged to leave Hillsborough."
" What, let the wretches drive you away? I would never
do that-if I was a man."
"What would you do then?" asked Henry, his eye
Sparkling.
" Do?  Why fight them; and beat them; and kill them.
It is not as if they were brave men. They are only cunning
cowards. I'd meet cunning with cunning. I'd outwit them
somehow. I'd change my lodging every week, and live at
little inns and places. I'd lock up everything I used, as well
as the rooms. I'd consult wiser heads, the Editor of the
iberal, and the Head of the police. I'd carry firearms, and



72

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

have a body-guard, night and day; but they should never say
they had frightened me out of Hillsborough-if I was a man."
"You are right," cried Henry. "I'll do all you advise
me, and I won't be driven out of this place. I love it. I'll
live in it, or I'll die in it. I'll never leave it."
This was almost the last word that passed this delightful
afternoon, when the sense of her own past injustice, the thrilling nature of the story told by the very sufferer, and, above
all, the presence and the undisguised emotion of another sympathizing woman, thawed Grace Carden's reserve, warmed her
courage, and carried her, quite unconsciously, over certain
conventional bounds, which had hitherto been strictly observed
in her intercourse with this young workman.
Henry himself felt that this day was an era in his love.
When he left the door, he seemed to tread on air. He walked
to the first cab-stand, took a conveyance to his mother's door,
and soon he was locked in her arms.
She had been fretting for hours at his delay; but she
never let him know it. The whole place was full of preparations for.his comfort, and certain delicacies he liked were laid
out on a little sideboard, and the tea-things set, including the
silver teapot, used now on high occasions only.
She had a thousand questions to ask, and he to answer.
And, while he ate, the poor woman leaned back, and enjoyed
seeing him eat; and, while he talked, her fine eyes beamed
with maternal joy. She revelled deliciously in his health, his
beauty, and his safe return to her; and thought, with gentle
complacency, that they should soon return to London together.
In the morning, she got out a large light box, and said,
SHarry dear, I suppose I may as well begin to pack up. You
know I take longer than you do."
Henry blushed. "Pack up?" said he, hesitatingly. "We
are not going away."
" Not going away, love? Why you agreed to leave, on
account of those dreadful unions."
" Oh, I was ill, and nervous, and out of spirits; but the
air of Cairnhope has made a man of me. I shall stay here,
and make our fortune."
" But the air of Cairnhope has not made you friends with
the unions." She seemed to reflect a moment, then asked
him at what time he had left Cairnhope.
" Eleven o'clock."
"* Ah i And who did you visit before you came to me? "



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

78

" You question me like a child, mother."
" Forgive me, dear. I will answer my own question. You
called on some one who gave you bad advice."
" Oh, did I?"
" On some woman."
" Say a lady."
"What does that matter to me 2 ' cried Mrs. Little,
wildly. " They are all my enemies. And this one is yours.It is a woman, who is not your mother, for she thinks more of
herself than of you."
CHAPTER       VII.
HENRY had now to choose between his mother's advice and
Miss Garden's commands; and this made him rather sullen
and irritable. He was glad to get out of his mother's house,
and went direct to the works. Bayne welcomed him warmly,
and, after some friendly congratulations and inquiries, pulled
out two files of journals, and told him he had promised to
introduce him to the Editor of the Liberal.  He then begged
Henry to wait in the office and read the files-he would not
be gone many minutes.
The Constitutional gave a dry narrative of the outrage, and
mourned the frequency of such incidents.
The Liberal gave a dramatic narrative, and said the miscreant must have lowered himself by a rope from the parapet,
and passed the powder inside without entering. " He perilled
his life to perpetrate this crime; and he also risked penal
servitude for ten years. That he was not deterred by the
double risk, proves the influence of some powerful motive; and
that motive must have been either a personal feud of a very
virulent kind, or else trade fanaticism. From this alternative
there is no escape."
Next day, both journals recorded a trade-meeting at " The
Rising Sun."  Delegates from the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union,
and the Edge-Tool Handlers' Union, with some other representatives of Hillsborough unions, were present, and passed a
resolution repudiating, with disgust, the outrage that had been
recently committed, and directed their secretaries to offer a



V'4          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLiCE.
reward of twenty pounds, the same to be paid to any personi
who would give such information as should lead to the discovery of the culprit.
On  this the Constitutional commented as follows:" Although we never for a moment suspected these respectable
unions of conniving at this enormity, yet it is satisfactory to
find them, not merely passive spectators, but exerting their
energy, and spending their money, in a praiseworthy endeavour
to discover and punish the offenders."
Henry laid down the paper, and his heart felt very warm
Lo Jobson and Parkin. " Come," said he, " I am glad of that.
They are not half a bad sort, those two, after all."
Then he took up the Liberal, and, being young and generous, felt disgusted at its comment:" This appears very creditable to the two unions in question.  But, unfortunately, long experience proves that these
small rewards never lead to any discovery. They fail so
invariably, that the unions do not risk a shilling by proffering
them.   In dramatic entertainments the tragedy is followed by
a farce: and so it is with these sanguinary crimes in Hillsborough; they are always followed by repudiation, and offers
of a trumpery reward quite disproportionate to the offence,
and the only result of the farce is to divert attention from the
true line of inquiry as to who enacted the tragedy. The mind
craves novelty, and perhaps these delegates will indulge that
desire by informing us for once, what was the personal and
Corsican feud which led-as they would have us believe-to
this outrage; and will, at the same time, explain to us why
these outrages with gunpowder have never, either in this or in
any preceding case, attacked any but non-union men."
When Henry had read thus far, the writer of the leader
entered the room with Mr. Bayne.
A gentleman not above the middle height, but with a
remarkable chest, both broad and deep; yet he was not
unwieldy, like Doctor Amboyne, but clean-built, and symmetrical.  An agreeable face, with one remarkable feature, a
mouth full of iron resolution, and a slight humourous dimple
at the corners.
He shook hands with Henry, and said, "I wish to ask you
a question or two, in the way of business: but first let me
express my sympathy, as a man, and my detestation of the
ruffians, that have so nearly victimized you."
This was very hearty, and Henry thanked him, with some



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

76

emotion. "But, sir," said he, "if I am to reply to your
questions, you must promise me you will never publish my
name."
"It is on account of his mother," whispered Bayne.
" Yes, sir.  It was her misfortune to lose my father by a
violent death, and of course you may imagine--"
" Say no more," said Mr. Holdfast: "your name shall
not appear.  And-let me see-does your mother know you
work here? "
"Yes, she does."
" Then we had better keep Cheetham's name out as weli.
" Oh, thank you, sir, thank you.  Now I'll answer any
questions you like."
" Well, then, I hear this outrage was preceded by several
letters. Could I see them? "
" Certainly.  I carry mine always in my pocket, for fear
my poor mother should see them; and, Mr. Bayne, you have
got Cheetham's."
In another minute the whole correspondence was on the
table, and Mr. Holdfast laid it out in order, like a map, and
went through it, taking notes. "What a comedy," said he.
"All but the denouement.  Now, Mr. Bayne, can any other
manufacturers show me a correspondence of this kind? "
" Is there one that can't?  There isn't a power-wheel, or
a water-wheel, within eight miles of Hillsborough, that can't
show you just such a correspondence as this; and rattening,
or worse, at the tail of it."
Mr. Holdfast's eyes sparkled like a diamond. "I'll make
the round," said he.  "And, Mr. Little, perhaps you will be
kind enough to go with me, and let me question you, on the
road.  I have no sub-editor; no staff; I carry the whole
journal on my head. Every day is a hard race between Time
and me, and not a minute to spare."
Mr. Cheetham was expected at the works this afternoon:
so Henry, on leaving Mr. Holdfast, returned to them, and
found him there with Bayne, looking, disconsolately, over a
dozen orders for carving-tools.
" Glad to see you again, my lad," said Cheetham. "Why,
you look all the better."
" I'm none the worse, sir."
" Come to take your balance and leave me? "  This wua
said half plaintively, half crossly.
"If you wish it, sir."



76           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACe.
"Not I. How is it to be?"
" Well, sir, I say to you what you said to me the other
day, Stick to me, and I'll stick to you."
"I'll stick to you."
Bayne held up his hands piteously to them both.
"What, sir?" faltered he, turning to Cheetham, "after
all your experience! " then to Henry, "What, fight the trades,
after the lesson they have given you! "
" I'll fight them all the more for that," said Henry, grinding his teeth; " fight them till all is blue."
"So will I. That for the trades!"
"Heaven help you both! " groaned Bayne, and looked the
picture of despair.
"You promised me shutters, with a detonator, sir."
" Ay, but you objected."
" That was before they blew me up."
" Just so. Shutters shall be hung to-morrow: and the
detonators I'll fix myself."
"Thank you, sir. Would you mind engaging a watchman?"
" Hum?   Not-if you will share the expense."
" I'll pay one-third."
" Why should I pay two-thirds?  It is not like shutters
and Bramah locks: they are property. However, he'll be
good against rattening; and you have lost a fortnight, and
there are a good many orders. Give me a good day's work,
and we won't quarrel over the watchman." He then inquired,
rather nervously, whether there was anything more.
" No, sir; we are agreed. And I'll give you good work,
and full time."
The die was cast, and now he must go home and face his
mother. For the first time this many years he was half afraid
to go near her. He dreaded remonstrances and tears: tears
that he could not dry; remonstrances that would worry him,
but could not shake him.
This young man, who had just screwed his physical courage
up to defy the redoubtable unions, had a fit of moral cowardice,
and was so reluctant to encounter the gentlest woman in
England, that he dined in a chop-house, and then sauntered
into a music-hall, and did not get home till past ten, meaning
to say a few kind, hurried words, then yawn, and slip to bed.



PUT YOURSELF IN IIS PLACE.               77
But, meantime, Mrs. Little's mind had not been idle. She
had long divined a young rival in her son's heart, and many a
little pang of jealousy had traversed her own. This morning,
with a quickness which may seem remarkable to those who
have not observed the watchful keenness of maternal love, she
had seen that her rival had worked upon Henry to resign hiS
declared intention of leaving Hillsborough. Then she had felt
her way, and, in a moment, she had found the younger woman
was the stronger.
She assumed, as a matter of course, that this girl was in
love with Henry (who would not be in love with him?), and
had hung, weeping, round his neck, when he called from
Cairnhope to bid her farewell, and had made him promise to
stay. This was the mother's theory; wrong, but rational.
Then came the question, What should she do?    Fight
against youth and nature? Fight, unlikely to succeed, sure
to irritate and disturb. Risk any of that rare affection and
confidence her son had always given her?
While her thoughts ran this way, seven o'clock came,
and no Henry. Eight o'clock, no Henry. "Ah " thought
the mother, "that one word of mine has had this effect
already."
She prepared an exquisite little supper. She made her
own toilet with particular care; and, when all was ready, she
sat down and comforted herself by reading his letters, and
comparing his love with the cavalier behaviour of many sons in
this island-the most unfilial country in Europe.
At half-past ten Henry came up the stairs, not with the
usual light elastic tread, but with slow, hesitating foot. Her
quick ear caught that too, and her gentle bosom yearned.
What, had she frightened him? He opened the door, and
she rose to receive him, all smiles. " You are rather late,
dear," she said; " but all the better. It has given me an
excuse for reading your dear letters all over again; and I
have a thousand questions to ask you about Cairnhope. But
sit down first, and have your supper."
Henry brightened up, and ate a good supper, and his
mother plied him with questions, all about Cairnhope.
Here was an unexpected relief. Henry took a superficial
view of all this. Sharp young men of twenty-four understand
a great many things; but they can't quite measure their
Imothers yet.
Ienry was selfishly pleased, but not ungrateful, and they



78            PUT P)UrPSELF IN HIS PLACE.
passed a pleasant and affectionate time: and, as for leaving
Hillsborough, the topic was avoided by tacit consent.
Next morning, after this easy victory, Henry took a cab
and got to " Woodbine Villa," by a circuitous route. His
heart beat high as he entered the room where Grace was
seated. After the extraordinary warmth and familiarity she
had shown him at the last interview, he took it for granted he
had made a lasting progress in her regard.
But she received him with a cold and distant manner, that
quite benumbed him. Grace Garden's face and manner were
so much more expressive than other people's, that you could
never mistake or doubt the mood she was in; and this morning
she was freezing.
The fact is, Miss Garden had been tormenting herself;
and, when beauty suffers, it is very apt to make others suffer
as well.
"I am glad you are come, Mr. Little," said she, " for I
have been taking myself to task ever since, and I blame
myself very much for some things I said. In the first place,
it was not for me " (here the fair speaker coloured, up to the
temples) " to interfere in your affairs at all; and then, if I
must take such a liberty, I ought to have advised'you sensibly,
and for your good. I have been asking people, and they all
tell me it is madness for one person to fight against these
unions. Everybody gets crushed. So now let me hope you
will carry out your wise intention, and leave Hillsborough; and
then my conscience vill be at ease."
Every word fell like an icicle on her hearer's heart. To
please this cold, changeful creature, he had settled to defy the
unchangeable unions, and had been ready to resist his mother.
and slight her immortal and unchanging love.
" You don't answer me, sir! " said Miss Carden, with an
air of lofty surprise.
" I answered you yesterday," said he, sullenly. " A man
can't chop and change like a weathercock."
" But it is not changing, it's only going back to your own
intention. You know you were going to leave Hillsborough,
before I talked all that nonsense. Your story had set me on
fire, and that's my only excuse. Well, now the same person
takes the liberty to give you wise and considerate advice,
instead of hot, and hasty, romantic nonsense. Which ought
you to respect most-folly or reason-from the same lips "
Henry seem d to reflect. "That sounds reasonable,"



PVT YOURSELF IN HISS PIAC027

79

said he; "I at, when you advised me not to show the white
feather, you spoke your heart; now, you are only talking from
your head. Then your beautiful eyes flashed fire, and your
soul was in your words: who could resist them?  And you
spoke to me like a friend; now you speak to me like an
enemy."
" Oh, Mr. Little, that is ridiculous."
" You do, though. And I'm sure I don't know why."
" Nor I. Perhaps because I am cross with myself; certainly not with you."
" I am glad of that. Well, then, the long and the short
is, you showed me you thought it cowardly to fly from the
trades. You wouldn't, said you, if you were a man. Well,
I am a man; and I'll do as you would do in my place. I'll
not throw my life away; I'll meet craft with craft, and force
with force; but fly I never will. I'll fight while I've a leg to
stand on."
With these words he began to work on the bust, in a quiet
dogged way that was, nevertheless, sufficiently expressive.
Grace looked at him silently for half a minute, and then
rose from her chair.
" Then," said she, "I must go for somebody of more
authority than I am."  She sailed out of the room.
Henry asked Jael who she was gone for.
" It will be her papa," said Jael.
" As if I care what he says."
"I wouldn't show her that, if I was you," said Jael,
quietly, but with a good deal of weight.
" You are right," said Henry. " You are a good girl. I
don't know which is the best, you or Martha. I say, I promised to go to Cairnhope some Sunday, and see them alL
Shall I drive you over?"
" And bring me back at night?"
SIf you like. I must come back.'
"I'll ask Miss Carden."
The words were quiet and composed, but the blushing face
beamed with unreasonable happiness; and Grace, who entered
at that moment with her father, was quite struck with its
eloquence; she half started, but took no further notice just
then. " There, papa," said she, "this is Mr. Little."
Mr. Carden was a tall gentleman, with somewhat iron
features, but a fine head of grey hair; rather an imposing



80           PUT YOURSELF fIN     IS PLACE.
personage; not the least pompous, though; quite a man of
the world, and took a business view of everything-matrimony,
of course, included.
"Oh, this is Mr. Little, is it, whose work we all admire
so much? "
" Yes, papa."
" And whose adventure has made so much noise "
"Yes, papa."
" By-the-by, there is an article to-day on you: have you
seen it?  No?  But you should see it; it is very smart.
My dear" (to Jael) " will you go to my study, and bring the
Liberal here? "
"Yes, but meantime I want you to advise him not to
subject himself to more gunpowder and things, but to leave the
town; that is all the wretches demand."
" And that," said Henry, with a sly deferential tone, " is
a good deal to demand in a free country, is it not, sir? "
" Indeed it is. Ah, here comes the Liberal. Somebody
read the article to us, while he works. I want to see how he
does it."
Curiosity overpowered Grace's impatience for a moment,
and she read the notice out with undisguised interest.
" 'THE   LAST OUTRAGE.
"' IN our first remarks upon this matter, we merely laid'down
an alternative which admits of no dispute; and, abstaining
from idle conjectures, undertook to collect evidence. We have
now had an interview with the victim of that abominable outrage. Mr. * is one of those superior workmen who embellish
that class for a few years, but invariably rise above it, and
leave it '-(there, Mr. Little!)-' He has informed us that he
is a stranger in Hillsborough, lives retired, never sits down in
a public-house, and has not a single enemy in Hillsborough,
great or small. He says that his life was saved by his fellowworkmen, and that as he lay scorched-' (oh dear!")
" Well, go on, Grace."
"It is all very well to say go on, papa- ' scorched and
bleeding on the ground, and unable to distinguish faces' (poor,
poor Mr. Little!) 'he heard, on all sides of him, expressions
of rugged sympathy; and sobs, and tears, from rough, butmanly fellows, who-  ' (oh! oh  o  "),race.it;,go on for whimpering, and Jael cried, fox
diff. 11111 "1.'  i,,,'  "



PUT YOURSELF IN II1S PLACE.

81

company. Henry left off carving, and turned away his head,
touched to the heart by this sweet and sudden sympathy.
" How badly you read," said Mr. Garden, and took the
journal from her. He read in a loud business-like monotone,
that, like some blessed balm, dried every tear.  "'Manly
fellows who never shed a tear before: this disposed of one
alternative, and narrowed the inquiry. It was not a personal
feud; therefore it was a trade outrage, or it was nothing. We
now took evidence bearing on the inquiry thus narrowed; and
we found the assault had been preceded by a great many
letters, all of them breathing the spirit of Unionism, and none
of them intimating a private wrong. These letters, taken in
connection, are a literary curiosity; and we find there is
scarcely a manufacturer in the place who has not endured a
similar correspondence, and violence at the end of it. This
curious chapter of the human mind really deserves a separate
heading, and we introduce it to our readers as
" ' THE LITERATURE OF OUTRAGE.
"' First of all comes a letter to the master, intimating
that he is doing something objectionable to some one of the
many unions that go to make a single implement of hardware.
This letter has three features. It is signed with a real name.
It is polite. It is grammatical.
"' If disregarded, it is speedily followed by another.
No. 2 is grammatical, or thereabouts; but, under a feigned
politeness, the insolence of a vulgar mind shows itself pretty
plainly, and the master is reminded what he suffered on some
former occasion when he rebelled against the trades. This
letter is sometimes anonymous, generally pseudonymous.
"' If this reminder of the past and intimation of the future
is disregarded, the refractory master gets a missive which
begins with an affectation of coarse familiarity, and then rises,
with a ludicrous bound, into brutal and contemptuous insolence.
In this letter grammar is flung to the winds, along with good
manners; but spelling survives, by a miracle. Next comes a
short letter, full of sanguinary threats, and written in, what we
beg leave to christen, the Dash dialect; because, though used
by at least three million people in England, and three thousand
in Hillsborough, it can only be printed with blanks, the reason
being simply this, that every sentence is measled with oaths
and indecencies. These letters are al      en phonetically,
and, as the pronunciation. whion direc,      elling, i3 all



f3            PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
wrong, the double result is prodigious. Nevertheless, many of
these pronunciations are ancient, and were once universal. An
antiquarian friend assures us the orthography of these blackguards-the scum of the nineteenth century-is wonderfully
like that of a mediaeval monk or baron.
"' When the correspondence has once descended to the
Dash dialect, written phonetically, it never remounts towards
grammar, spelling, or civilization; and the next step in the
business is rattening, or else beating, or shooting, or blc wingup the obnoxious individual by himself, or along with a houseful
of people quite strange to the quarrel. Now, it is manifest to
common sense, that all this is one piece of mosaic, and that
the criminal act it all ends in is no more to be disconnected
from the last letter, than the last letter from its predecessor,
or letter 3 from letter 2. Here is a crime first gently foreshadowed, then grimly intimated, then directly threatened,
then threatened in words that smell of blood and gunpowder,
and then-done. The correspondence and the act reveal
'The various talents, but the single mind.
"' In face of this evidence, furnished by themselves, the
trades' unions, some member of which has committed this
crime, will do well to drop the worn-out farce of offering a
trumpery reward, and to take a direct and manly course.
They ought to accept Mr. "'s preposterously liberal offer, and
admit him to the two unions, and thereby disown the criminal
act in the form most consolatory to the sufferer; or else they
should face the situation, and say, " This act was done under
our banner, though not by our order, and we stand by it." The
Liberal will continue to watch the case.' "
" This will be a pill," said Mr. Carden, laying down the
paper. " Why, they call the Liberal the workmen's advocate."
" Yes, papa," said Grace; " but how plainly he showsBut Mr. Little is a stranger, and even this terrible lesson has
not--     So do pray advise him."
" I should be very happy; but, when you are my age, you
will know it is of little use intruding advice upon people."
" Oh, Mr. Little will treat it with proper respect coming
from one so much older than himself, and better acquainted
with this wretched town. Will you not, Mr. Little? " said
she, with so cunning a sweetness that the young fellow was
entrapped, and assented, before he knew what he was about;
then coloured high at finding himself committed.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

88

Mr. Carden reflected a moment. He then said, I can't
'ake upon myself to tell any man to give up his livelihood.
But one piece of advice I can conscientiously give Mr. Little.'
"Yes, papa."
"And that is-TO INSURE HIS LIFE."
" Oh, papa! " cried Grace.
As for Henry he was rather amused, and his lip curled
satirically.
But the next moment he happened to catch sight of Jael
Dence's face: her grey eyes were expanded with a look of uneasiness; and, directly she caught his eye, she fixed it, and
made him a quick movement of the head, directing him to
assent.
There was something so clear and decided in the girl's
manner, that it overpowered Henry, who had no very clear
idea to oppose to it, and he actually obeyed the nod of
this girl, whom he had hitherto looked on as an amiable
simpleton.
" I have no objection to that," said he, turning to Mr.
Carden. Then, after another look at Jael, he said, demurely,
" Is there any insurance office you could recommend? "
Mr. Carden smiled. "There is only one I have a right
to recommend, and that is the ' Gosshawk.' I am a director.
But," said he, with sudden stiffness, "I could furnish you
with the names of many others."
Henry saw his way clear by this time. "No, sir, if I
profit by your advice, the least I can do is to choose the one
you are a director of."
Grace, who had latterly betrayed uneasiness and irritation,
now rose, red as fire. " The conversation is taking a turn I
did not at all intend," said she, and swept out of the room
with royal disdain.
Her father apologized carelessly for her tragical exit.
' That is a young lady who detests business; but she does
not object to its fruits-dresses, lace, footmen, diamonds, and
a carriage to drive about in. On the contrary, she would be
miserable without them."
"I should hope she never will be without them, sir."
" I'll take care of that."
Mr. Carden said this rather dryly, and then retired for a
minute; and Grace, who was not far off, with an ear like a
hare, came back soon after.
But in the meantime Henry left his seat and went to JaeL
a 2



84           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
and leaning over her as she worked, said, " There is more in
that head of yours than I thought."
" Oh, they all talk before me," said Jael, blushing faintly,
and avoiding his eye.
" Jael Dence," said the young man, warmly, " I'm truly
obliged to you."
" What for?"
"For your good advice. I didn't see how good it was
till after I had taken it."
"I'm afeard Miss Grace gave you better."
"She advised me against my heart. What is the use
of that? "
" Ay, young men are wilful."
" Come, come, don't you go back. You are my friend
and counsellor."
" That is something," said Jael, in a low voice; and her
hands trembled at her side.
" Why, my dear girl, what's the matter? "
"Hush! hush "
-***- ---
CHAPTER       VIII.
GRACE came in that moment, with a superb air. She settle
herself on the sofa.
" Now it is my turn, if you please. Pray, sir, do you
think your life will be any safer for your insuring it?  Insuring does not mean that you are not to be killed; but that,
when you are, for your obstinacy, somebody else will get
paid some money, to dance with over your grave."
" I beg your pardon, Grace," said Mr. Garden, entering,
with some printed papers in his hand. " That is not the only
use of an insurance. He may want to marry, or to borrow a
sum of money to begin business; and then a policy of insurance, with two or three premiums paid, smooths the difficulty. Everybody should make a will, and everybody should
insure his life."
"Well then, sir, I will do both."
" Stop 1" said Mr. Carden, who could now afford to be candid. "First of all you ought to satisfy yourself of the flourishing
condition of the company."  He handed him a prospectus.
" This will show you our capital, and our disbursements last



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              85
year, and the balance of profit declared. And this gives the
alance-sheet of the ' Vulture' and the 'Falcon,' which have
assigned their business to us, and are now incorporated in the
' Gosshawk.'"
" Oh, what a voracious bird! " observed Grace. "I hope
these other chickabiddies will not prove indigestible. Were
they plucked first, papa? or did the 'Gosshawk' swallow
them, feathers and all? "
Little laughed heartily at this pert sally, but Mr. Garden
winced under it.
Then Grace saw she was not quite weaponless, and added,
" After such a meal as that, Mr. Little, you will go down
like a crumb."
" Grace, that is enough," said Mr. Carden, rather severely.
Grace held her tongue directly, and the water came into
her eyes. Anything like serious remonstrance was a novelty
to her.
When Henry had read the papers, Mr. Garden asked him,
rather carelessly, what sum he wished to be insured for.
Now Henry had so little wish about the matter, that he
had not given it a thought, and the question took him quite
aback. He looked helplessly at Jael. To his surprise, she
decided on the sum for him, without a moment's hesitation,
and conveyed the figure with that dexterity which the simplest
of her sex can command whenever telegraphy is wanted. She
did it with two unbroken movements: she put up all the
fingers of her right hand to her brow, and that meant five;
then she turned her hand rapidly, so as to hide her mouth
from the others, who were both on her right hand, and she
made the word thousand clear, with her lips and tongue,
especially the " th."
But the sum staggered Henry; and made him think he
must be misinterpreting her.
He hesitated to gain time. "Hum!" said he, "the
sum? "
Jael repeated her pantomime as before.
Still Henry doubted, and, to feel his way, said, half interrogatively, " Five-thou-sand? "
Jael nodded.
"Five thousand pounds! " said Henry, as bold as brass.
"Five thousand pounds "     cried Mr. Garden.    " A
workman insure his life for five thousand pounds! "
" Well, a man's life is worth five thousand pounds, or it



136          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
is worth nothing. And, sir, how long do you think I shall
be a workman, especially in Hillsborough, where from workman
to master is no more than hopping across a gutter? "
Mr. Garden smiled approval. " But five thousand pounds I
The annual premium will be considerable. May I ask about
how much you make a year?"
" Oh, papa! "
"Well, sir, Mr. Cheetham pays me 3001. a year, at the
rate of, and I can make another 1001. by carving at odd times.
But, if you doubt my ability, let us stay as we are, sir. It
was your proposal, not mine, you know."
"Young man," said Mr. Garden, "never be peppery in
business."  He said this so solemnly and paternally, it
sounded like the eleventh commandment.
To conclude, it was arranged Henry should take the higher
class of insurance, which provided for accidents, voyages,
everything, and should be insured for 5,0001., provided the
physician appointed by the company should pronounce him
free from disease.
Henry then rose, and said, sorrowfully, to Grace, " You
will not see me here very often now; and never on Saturday
afternoon or Monday morning. I am not going to have some
blackguard tracking me, and flinging a can of gunpowder in at
your window. When I do come, it will be in the morning,
and on a working day; and I shall perhaps go ten miles round
to get here. It must be diamond cut diamond, for many a
month to come, between the Trades and me."   He uttered
these words with manly gravity, as one who did not underrate
the peril he was resolved to face; and left them with a respectful bow.
" That's a rising man," said Mr. Garden; " and may draw
a hundred of his class to the ' Gosshawk.' It was a good
stroke of business, quite out of the common."
Grace said not a word, but she shook her head, and looked
pained and ill at ease. Jael watched her fixedly.
Henry called at the works that night, and examined the
new defences, with Mr. Cheetham. He also bought a powerful
magnifying glass; and next morning he came to the factory,
examined the cinders, and everything else, with the magnifier,
lighted his forge, and resumed his work.
At dinner-time he went out and had his chop, and read
the Libral; it contained a letter from Jobson, in reply to the
editor.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               U7
Jobson deplored the criminal act, admitted that the two
Unions had decided no individual could be a forger, a handler,
and a cutler; such an example was subversive of all the
Unions in the city, based, as they were, on subdivision of
crafts. " But," said Mr. Jobson, " we were dealing with the
matter in a spirit quite inconsistent with outrages, and I am
so anxious to convince the public of this, that I have asked a
very experienced gentleman to examine our minute-books, and
report accordingly."
This letter was supplemented by one from Mr. Grotait,
secretary of the Saw-Grinders, which ran thus:-" Messrs.
Parkin and Jobson have appealed to me to testify to certain
facts. I was very reluctant to interfere, for obvious reasons;
but was, at last, prevailed on to examine the minute-books of
those two Unions, and they certainly do prove that on the
very evening before the explosion, those trades had fully discussed Mr. *'s case," (the real name was put, but altered by
the editor,) " and had disposed of it as follows: They agreed,
and this is entered accordingly, to offer him his travelling
expenses (first class) to London, and one pound per week,
from their funds, until such time as he should obtain employment.   I will only add, that both these secretaries spoke
kindly to me of Mr. *; and, believing them to be sincere, I
ventured to advise them to mark their disapproval of the
criminal act, by offering him two pounds per week, instead of
one pound; which advice they have accepted very readily.
Henry was utterly confounded by these letters.
Holdfast commented on them thus:
"Messrs. Jobson and Parkin virtually say that if A, for
certain reasons, pushes a man violently out of Hillsborough,
and B draws him gently out of Hillsborough for the same
reasons, A and B cannot possibly be co-operating. Messrs.
Parkin and Jobson had so little confidence in this argument,
which is equivalent to saying there is no such thing as cunning
in trade, that they employed a third party to advance it with
all the weight of his popularity and seeming impartiality. But
who is this candid person, that objects to assume the judge,
and assumes the judge? He is the treasurer and secretary of
an Union, that does not number three hundred persons; yet
in that small Union, of which he is dictator, there has been as
much rattening, and more shooting, and blowing-up wholesale
and retail, with the farcical accompaniment of public repudiation, than in all the other unions put together. We consider



58           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
the entrance of this ingenious personage on the scene a bad
omen, and shall watch all future proceedings with increased
suspicion."
Henry had hardly done reading this, when a man came
into the works, and brought him his fifteen pounds back from
Mr. Jobson, and a line, offering him his expenses to London,
and two pounds per week, from the Edge-Tool Forgers' box,
till he should find employment. Henry took his money, and
sent back word that the proposal came too late; after the
dastardly attempt to assassinate him, he should defy the
Unions, until they accepted his terms. Jobson made no reply.
And Henry defied the Unions.
The Unions lay still, like some great fish at the bottom of
a pool, and gave no sign of life or animosity. This did not
lull Henry into a false security. He never relaxed a single
precaution. He avoided "Woodbine Villa; " he dodged and
doubled like a hare, to hide his own abode. But he forged,
handled, and finished, in spite of the Unions.
The men were civil to him in the yard, and he had it all
his own way, apparently.
He was examined by a surgeon, and reported healthy. He
paid the insurance premium, and obtained the policy. So now
he felt secure, under the rtgis of the Press, and the wing of
the "G)sshawk."
By-and-by, that great fish I have mentioned gave a turn
of its tail, and made his placid waters bubble a little.
A woman came into the yard, with a can of tea for her
husband, and a full apron. As she went out, she emptied a set of
tools out of her apron on to an old grindstone, and slipped out.
The news of this soon travelled into the office, and both
Cheetham and Bayne came out to look at them.
They were a set of carving-tools, well made, and highly
polished; and there was a scrap of paper with this distich:
We are Hillsborough made,
Both haft and blade.
Cheetham examined- them and said, " Well, they Sre clever
fellows. I declare these come very near Little's: call him
down, and let us draw him."
Bayne called to Henry, and that brought him down, and
several more, who winded something.
"( Just look at these? " said Cheetham.
Little coloured: he saw the finger of the Unions at once,
and bristled all over with caution and hostility.



PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.              89
"I see them, sir. They are very fair specimens of cutlery,
and there are only about twenty tools wanting to make a complete set: but there is one defect in them, as carving-tools."
" What is that? "
" They are useless. You can't carve wood with them.
None but a practical carver can design these tools, and then
he must invent and make the steel moulds first. Try and sell
them in London or Paris, you'll soon find the difference.
Mr. Bayne, I wonder you should call me from my forge to
examine 'prentice-work."  And, with this, he walked off disdainfully, but not quite easy in his mind, for he had noticed a
greedy twinkle in Cheetham's eye.
The next day, all the grinders in Mr. Cheetham's employ,
except the scissor-grinders, rose, all of a sudden, like a flock
of partridges, and went out into the road.
" What is up now? " inquired Bayne. The answer was,
their secretaries had sent for them.
They buzzed in the road, for a few minutes, and then came
back to work.
At night there was a great meeting at the " Cutlers' Arms,"
kept by Mr. Grotait.
At noon next day, all the grinders aforesaid in Mr. Cheetham's employ, walked into the office, and left, each of them, a
signed paper to this effect:" This is to give you notice that I will leave your service a
week after the date thereof." (Meaning " hereof," I presume.)
Cheetham asked several of them what was up. Some
replied, civilly, it was a trade matter. Others suggested
Mr. Cheetham knew as much about it as they did.
Not a single hot or uncivil word was spoken on either side.
The game had been played too often for that, and with results
too various.
One or two even expressed a sort of dogged regret. The
grinder, Reynolds, a very honest fellow, admitted to Mr.
Cheetham, that he thought it a sorry trick, for a hundred men
to strike against one that had had a squeak for his life. "But
no 'matter what I think, or what I say, I must do what the
Union bids me, sir."
"I know that, my poor fellow," said Cheetham. "I
quarrel with none of you. I fight you all. The other masters,
in this town, are mice, but I'm a man.'
This sentiment he repeated very often during the next si
days.



90           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
The seventh came, and the grinders never entcred the
works.
Cheetham looked grave.   However, he said to Bayne,
" Go and find out where they are. Do it cleverly now. Don't
be noticed."
Bayne soon ascertained they were all in the neighbouring
public-houses.
"I thought so," said Cheetham. "They will come in,
before night. They shan't beat me, the vagabonds. I'm a
man, I'm not a mouse."
" Orders pouring in, sir," sighed Bayne. " And the
grinders are rather behind the others in their work already."
"They must have known that: or why draw out the
grinders?  How could they know it? "
" Sir," said Bayne, " they say old Smitem is in this one.
Wherever he is, the master's business is known, or guessed,
heaven knows how; and if there is a hole in his coat, that hole
is hit. Just look at the cleverness of it, sir. Here we are,
wrong with the forgers and handlers. Yet they come into the
works and take their day's wages. But they draw out the
grinders, and mutilate the business. They hurt you as much
as if they struck, and lost their wages. But no, they want
their wages to help pay the grinders on strike. Your only
chance was to discharge every man in the works, the moment
the grinders gave notice."
" Why didn't you tell me so, then?"
"Because I'm   not old Smitem. He can see a thing
beforehand. I can see it afterwards. I'm like the weatherwise man's pupil; as good as my master, give me time. The
master could tell you, at sunrise, whether the day would be
wet or dry, and the pupil he could tell you, at sunset: and
that is just the odds between old Smitem and me."
" Well, if he is old Smitem, I'm old Fightem."
At night, he told Bayne he had private information, that
the grinders were grumbling at being made a catspaw of by
the forgers and the handlers. " Hold on," said he; " they
will 'break up before morning."
At ten o'clock, next day, he came down to the works, and.
some peremptory orders had poured in. "They must wait,"
said he, peevishly.
At twelve, he said, " How queer the place seems, and not
a grindstone going. It seems as still as the grave. I'm a
man; I'm not a mouse."



PUT YOURSEoLI N ITIS PLACE.

91

Mr. Cheetham repeated this last fact in zoology three
Limes, to leave no doubt of it in his own mind, I suppose.
At one, he said he would shut up the works rather than be
a slave.
At 1.15 he blustered.
At 1.20 he gave in: collapsed in a moment, like a pune.
tured bladder. "Bayne," said he, with a groan, "go to
Jobson, and ask him to come and talk this foolish business
over."
" Excuse me, sir," said Bayne. "Don't be offended; but
you are vexed and worried, and whoever the Union sends to
you will be as cool as marble. I have just heard it is Redcar
carries the conditions."
" What, the foreman of my own forgers! Is he to dictate
to me? " cried Cheetham, grinding his teeth with indignation
"Well, sir, what does it matter?" said Bayne, soothingly.
I' He is no more than a mouthpiece."
"Go for him," said Cheetham, sullenly.
" But, sir, I can't bear that your own workman should se6
you so agitated."
" Oh, I shall be all right the moment I see my man
before me."
Bayne went off, and soon returned with Redcar. The man
had his coat on, but had not removed his leathern apron.
Cheetham received him as the representative of the Unions.
" Sit down, Redcar, and let us put an end to this little bother.
What do you require? "
" Mr. Little's discharge, sir."
"Are you aware he is with me on a month's notice?"
"They make a point of his leaving the works at once, sir;
and I was to beg you to put other hands into his room."
" It is taking a great liberty to propose that."
" Nay. They only want to be satisfied. He has given a
vast o' trouble."
"I'll give him a month's warning. If I discharge him on
the spot, he can sue me."
" That has been thought on. If he sues you, you can talk
to the Unions, and they will act with you. But the grinders
are not to come in till Little is out."
"Well, so be it, then."
"And his rooms occupied by Union men."
"If I swallow the bolus, I may as well swallow the pills.
Anything more   "



92           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
"The grinders are not to lose their time; a day and a
half."
" What! am I to pay them for not working?"
" Well, sir, if we had come to you, of course the forgers
and handlers would have paid the grinders for lost time; but,
as you have come to us, you will have to pay them."
Cheetham made a wry face; but acquiesced.
" And then, sir," said Redcar, "there's another little
matter. The incidental expenses of the strike."
"I don't know what you mean."
"The expenses incurred by the secretaries, and a little
present to another gentleman, who advised. us. It comes to
thirty pounds altogether."
" What! " cried Cheetham, struggling with his rising
choler. "You want me to pay men thirty pounds for organizing a strike, that will cost me so dear, and rob me of a whole
trade that was worth 3001. a year? Why not charge me for
the gunpowder you blew up Little with, and spoiled my forge?
No, Bayne, no: this is too unjust and too tyrannical. Flesh
and blood won't bear it. I'll shut up the works, and go back
to my grindstone. Better live on bread and water than live
a slave."
Redcar took a written paper out of his pocket. *' There
are the terms written down," said he. " If you sign them, the
strike ends; if you don't, it continues-till you do."
Cheetham writhed under the pressure. Orders were pouring in; trade brisk; hands scarce. Each day would add a
further loss of many pounds for wages, and doubtless raise
fresh exactions. He gulped down something very like a sob,
and both his hand and his voice shook with strong passion as
he took the pen. " I'll sign it; but if ever my turn comes,
I'll remember this against you. This shows what they really
are, Bayne. Oh, if ever you workmen get power, GOD HELP
THE WORLD!
These words seemed to come in a great prophetic agony
out of a bursting heart.
But the representative of the Unions was neither moved by
them nor irritated.
" All right," said he, phlegmatically; "the winner takes
his bite; the loser gets his bark: that's reason."
Henry Little was in his handling-room, working away, with
a bright perspective before him, when Bayne knocked at the



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              N
door, and entered with Redcar. Bayne's face wore an expression so piteous, that Henry divined mischief at once.
" Little, my poor fellow, it is all over. We are obliged to
part with you."
" Cheetham has thrown me over! "
"What could he do?   I am to ask you to vacate these
rooms, that we may get our half-day out of the grinders."
Henry turned pale, but there was no help for it.
He got up in a very leisurely way; and, while he was
putting on his coat, he told Bayne, doggedly, he should expect
his month's salary.
As he was leaving, Redcar spoke to him in rather a sheepish.way. "Shake hands, old lad," said he: "thou knows
one or t'other must win; and there's not a grain of spite
against thee. It's just a trade matter."
Henry stood with his arms akimbo, and looked at Redcar
" I was in hopes," said he, grinding his teeth, " you were
going to ask me to take a turn with you in the yard, man to
man. But I can't refuse my hand to one of my own sort that
asks it. There 'tis. After all, you deserve to win, for you
are true to each other; but a master can't be true to a man,
nor to anything on earth, but his pocket."
He then strolled out into the yard, with his hands in his
pockets, and whistled " The Harmonious Blacksmith," very
sick at heart.
CHAPTER IX.
THE strike was over, the grinders poured into the works, and
the grindstones revolved.  Henry Little leaned against an
angle of the building, and listened with aching heart to their
remorseless thunder. He stood there disconsolate-the one
workman out of work-and sipped the bitter cup, defeat.
Then he walked out at the gates, and wandered languidly into
the streets. He was miserable, and had nobody to mourn to,
for the main cause of his grief lay beneath the surface of this
defeat; and how could he reveal it, now, that his ambitious
love looked utter madness? Young as he was, he had seen
there is no sympathy in the world for any man who loves out
of his sphere. Indeed, whatever cures or crushes such a



Q1           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
passion, is hailed by the bystanders as a sharp but wholesome
medicine.
Hie sauntered about, and examined all the shops with lack.
lustre eye. He looked in at everything, but observed nothing,
scarcely saw anything. All his senses were turned inwards.
It was such a pitiable and galling result of a gallant fight.
Even the insurance office had got the better of him. It had
taken one-third of his savings, and the very next day his trade
was gone, and his life in no danger. The " Gosshawk " had
plucked him, and the trade had tied his hands. Rack his
invention how he would, he could see no way of becoming a
master in Hillsborough, except by leaving Hillsborough and
working hard and long in some other town. He felt in- his
own heart the love and constancy to do this; but his reason
told him such constancy would be wasted; for, while he was
working at a distance, the impression, if any, he had made on
her would wear away, and some man born with money would
stop in and carry her gaily off. This thought returned to him
again and again, and exasperated him so at last, that he resolved to go to " Woodbine Villa," and tell her his heart
before he left the place.  Then he should be rejected, no
doubt, but perhaps pitied, and not so easily forgotten as if he
had melted silently away.
He walked up the hill, first rapidly, then slowly. He
called at " Woodbine Villa."
The answer was, "Not at home."
" Everything is against me," said he.
He wandered wearily down again, and just at the entrance
of the town he met a gentleman with a lady on each arm, and
one of those ladies was Miss Carden. The fortunate cavalier
was Mr. Coventry, whom Henry would have seen long before
this, but he had been in Paris for the last four months. He
had come back fuller than ever of agreeable gossip, and Grace
was chatting away to him, and beaming with pleasure, as
innocent girls do, when out on a walk with a companion they
like. She was so absorbed she did not even see Henry Little.
He went off the pavement to make room for their tyrannical
crinolines, and passed unnoticed.
He had flushed with joy at first sight of her, but now a
deadly qualm seized him. The gentleman was handsome and
commanding; Miss Carden seemed very happy, hanging on
his arm; none the less bright and happy that he, her humble
worshipper, was downcast and wretched.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              95
It did not positively prove much: yet it indicated how
little he must be to her: and somehow it made him realize
more clearly the great disadvantage at which he lay, compared
with an admirer belonging to her own class. Hitherto his
senses had always been against his reason: but now for once
they co-operated with his judgment, and made him feel that,
were he to toil for years in London, or Birmingham, and
amass a fortune, he should only be where that gentleman was
already; and while the workman, far away, was slaving, that
gentleman and others would be courting her.  She might
refuse one or two. But she would not refuse them all.
Then in his despair, he murmured, " Would to God I had
never seen her! "
He made a fierce resolve he would go home, and tell his
mother she could pack up. He quickened his steps, for fear
his poor sorrowful heart should falter.
But, when he had settled on this course, lo! a fountain of
universal hatred seemed to bubble in his heart. He burned
to inflict some mortal injury upon Jobson, Parkin, Grotait,
Cheetham, and all who had taken a part, either active or
passive, in goading him to despair. Now Mr. Cheetham's
works lay right in his way; and it struck him he could make
Cheetham smart a little. Cheetham's god was money. Cheetham had thrown him over for money. He would go to
Cheetham, and drive a dagger into his pocket.
He walked into the office. Mr. Cheetham was not there:
but he found Bayne, and Dr. Amboyne.
"Mr. Bayne," said he, abruptly, "I am come for my
month's wages." f
The tone was so aggressive, Bayne looked alarmed.
"Why, Little, poor Mr. Cheetham is gone home with a bad
headache, and a sore heart."
" All the better. I don't want to tell him to his face he is
a bragging cur; all I want out of him now is my money: and
you can pay me that."
The pacific Bayne cast a piteous glance at Dr. Amboyne.
"I have told you the whole business, sir. Oughtn't Mr. Little
ce wait till to-morrow, and talk it over with Mr. Cheetham?
I'm only a servant: and a man of peace."
" Whether he ought or not, I think I can answer for him
that he will."
"I can't sir," said Henry, sturdily. " I leave the town
to-morrow.'



06           PUT YOURSELF IN ITlS PLACE.
" Oh, that alters the case. But must you leave us so soon? "
" Yes, sir."
" I am very sorry for that. Tell me your reason. I don't
ask out of mere curiosity."
Henry replied with less than his usual candour: " Is it not
reason enough for leaving a place, that my life has been
attempted in it, and now my livelihood is taken? "
" Those are certainly strong reasons. But, on the other
hand, your life is no longer in danger: and your livelihood ig
not gone; for, to speak plainly, I came over here the moment
I heard you were discharged, to ask you if you would enter my
service on the same terms as Mr. Cheetham gave you, only
guineas instead of pounds."
"What, turn doctor? "
" Oh dear, no: the doctors' union would forbid that. No,
Mr. Little, I am going to ask you to pay me a compliment; to
try my service blindfold for one week. You can leave it if you
don't like it; but give me one week's trial."
" How can I refuse you that? " said Henry, hanging his
head. "You have been a good friend to me. But, sir, mark
my words, this place will be my destruction. Well, when am
I to begin work? "
" To-morrow at ten."
"So be it," said Henry, wearily, then left the works, and
went home; but, as he went, he said to himself, " It is not
my doing."  And his doublefaced heart glowed and exulted
secretly.
He told his mother how the Trades had beaten him, and
he was out of work.
Mrs. Little consoled him hypocritically. She was delighted.
Then he told her his departure had been delayed by Dr.
Amboyne: that made her look a little anxious.
" One question, dear: now the Union has beaten you, they
will not be so spiteful, will they?"
" Oh, no. That is all over. The conquerors can afford to
be good-natured. Confound them."
" Then that is all I care about. Then do not leave Hillsborough. Why should you? Wait here patiently. You do
not know what may turn up."
" What, mother, do you want to stay here now? " said
Henry, opening his eyes with astonishment.
" Wherever my son is happy and safe from harm, there I
wish to stay-of course."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

97

Next morning Henry called on Dr. Amboyne, and found
him in his study, teaching what looked a boy of sixteen, but
was twenty-two, to read monosyllables. On Little's entrance
the pupil retired from  his uphill work, and glowered with
vacillating eyes. The lad had a fair feminine face, with three
ill things in it: a want, a wildness, and a weakness. To be sure
Henry saw it at a disadvantage: for vivid intelligence would
come now and then across this mild, wild, vacant face, like the
breeze that sweeps a farmyard pond.
" Good morning, Little. This is your fellow-workman."
"He does not look up to much," said Henry, with all a
workman's bluntness.
" What, you have found him out! Never mind; he can
beat the town at one or two things, and it is for these we will
use him. Some call him an idiot. The expression is neat
and vigorous, but not precise; so I have christened him the
Anomaly. Anomaly, this is Mr. Little; go and shake hands
with him, and admire him."
The Anomaly went directly, and gazed into Little's face for
some time.
He then made his report. "He is beautiful and black."
" I've seen him blacker. Now leave off admiring him, and
look at these pictures while I prose. Two thousand philosophers are writing us dead with ' Labour and Capital.' But
I vary the bore. ' Life, Labour, and Capital,' is my chant:
and, whereas Life has hitherto been banished from the discussion, I put Life in its true place, at the head of the trio.
(And Life I divide into long Life, and happy Life.) The subject is too vast to be dealt with all at once; but I'll give
you a peep of it. The rustic labourer in the South sells his
labour for too little money to support life comfortably. That
is a foul wrong. The rustic labourer in the North has small
wages, compared with a pitman, or a cutler; but he has
enough for health, and he lives longer and more happily than
either the pitman or the cutler; so that account is square, in
my view of things. But now dive into the Hillsborough trades,
and you will find this just balance of Life, Labour, and Capital,
regarded in some, but defied in others: a forger is paid as
much or more than a dry-grinder, though forging is a hard but
tolerably healthy trade, and dry-grinding means an early death
after fifteen years of disease and misery. The file-cutters are
even more killed and less paid. What is to be done, then?
aise the wages of the more homicidal trades! But this could
H



98           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
only be done by all the Unions acting in concert. Now the
rival philosophers, who direct the Unions, are all against
Democritus-that's myself; they set no value on life. And
indeed the most intelligent one, Grotait, smiles blandly on
Death, and would grind his scythe for him-at the statement
price-because that scythe thins the labour-market, and so
helps keep up prices."
" Then what can we do? I'm a proof one can't fight the
Unions."
" Do? Why, lay hold of the stick at the other end. Let
Pseudo-Philosophy set the means above the end, and fix its
shortsighted eyes on Labour and Capital, omitting Life.
(What does it profit a file-cutter if he gains his master's
whole capital and loses his own life?) But you and I,
Mr. Little, are true philosophers, and the work we are about
to enter on is-saving cutlers' lives."
" I'd rather help take them."
" Of course; and that is why I made the pounds guineas."
" All right, sir," said Henry, colouring. " I don't expect
to get six guineas a week for whistling my own tune. How
are we to do the job?"
" By putting our heads together. You have, on the side
of your temple, a protuberance, which I have noticed in the
crania of inventors. So I want you to go round the works,
and observe for yourself how Life is thrown gaily away, in a
moment, by needless accidents, and painfully gnawed away by
steel-dust, stone-grit, sulphuret of lead, &c.; and then cudgel
your brain for remedies."
" Sir," said Henry, "I am afraid I shall not earn my money.
My heart is not in the job "
" Revenge is what you would like to be at, not Philan.
thropy-eh?"
"Ay, Doctor."  And his black eye flashed fire.
"Well, well, that is natural. Humour my crotchet just
now, and perhaps I may humour yours a month or two hence.
I think I could lay my hand on the fellow who blew you up."
" What, sir!   Ah! tell me that, and I'll do as much
philanthropy as you like-after--"
" After you have punched your fellow-creature's head."
"But it is impossible, sir. How can you. know? These
acts are kept as secret as the grave."
" And how often has the grave revealed its secrets to
observant men?  Dr. Donine sauntered about among graves,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

99

and saw a sexton turn up a skull. He examined it, found a
nail in it, identified the skull, and had the murderess hung.
She was safe from the sexton and the rest of the parish, but
not from a stray observer. Well, the day you were blown up,
I observed something, and arrived at a conclusion, by my art.'
" What, physic? "
" Oh dear, no; my other art, my art of arts, that I don't
get paid for; the art of putting myself in other people's places.
I'll tell you. While you lay on the ground, in Mr. Cheetham's
yard, I scanned the workmen's faces. They were full of pity
and regret, and were much alike in expression-all but one.
That one looked a man awakened from a dream. His face was
wild, stupid, confused, astonished. ' Hallo!' said I, ' why are
your looks so unlike the looks of your fellows?' Instantly I put
myself in his place. I ceased to be the Democritus, or laughing
philosopher of Hillsborough, and became a low uneducated
brute of a workman. Then I asked this brute, viz. myself,
why I was staring and glaring in that way, stupidly astonished,
at the injured man?  ' Were you concerned in the criminal
act, ye blackguard? ' said I to myself. The next step was to
put myself in the place of the criminal. I did so; and I
realized that I, the criminal, had done the act to please the
Unions, and expecting the sympathy of all Union workmen to
be with me. Also that I, being an ignorant brute, had never
pictured to myself what suffering I should inflict. But what
was the result? I now saw the sufferer, and did not like my
own act; and I found all the sympathy of my fellows went with
him, and that I was loathed and execrated, and should be
lynched on the spot were I to own my act. I now whipped
back to Dr. Amboyne with the theory thus obtained, and compared it with that face; the two fitted each other, and I saw
the criminal before me."
S" Good heavens! This is very deep."
"No slop-basin was ever deeper,    So leave it;fqr the..
present, and go to work. Here are cards admitting yoL as'~:n.p"
commissioner, to all the principal works. Begin with -
Stop a moment, while I put myself in your place. ' Let me see,
Cheetham's grinders think they have turned me out of Hillsborough. That mortifies a young man of merit like me. Confound
'em! I should like to show them they have not the power to
drive me out. Combine how they will, I rise superior. I forge
as they could not forge: that was my real crime. Well, I'll
be their superior still. I'm their inspector, and their banel
n2



100          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
factor, at higher wages than they, poor devils, will ever earn at
inspecting and benefiting, or anything else.' Ah! your colour
rises. I've hit the right nail. Isn't it an excellent and most
transmigratory art? Then begin with Cheetham. By-the-by,
the Anomaly has spotted a defective grindstone there. Scrutinize all his departments severely; for no man values his
people's lives less than my good friend John Cheetham. Away
with you both; and God speed you."
Henry walked down the street with the Anomaly, and tried
to gauge his intellects.
"What's ybur real name, my man?"
"Silly Billy."
"Oh, then I'm afraid you can't do much to help me."
"Oh yes, I can, because -  "
"Because what? "
"Because I like you."
"Well, that's lucky, any way."
' Billy can catch trout when nobody else can," said the
youngster, turning his eyes proudly up to Henry's.
" Oh, indeed! But you see that is not exactly what the
Doctor wants us for."
" Nay; he's wrapped up in trout. If it wasn't for Billy
and the trout, he'd die right off."
Henry turned a look of silent pity on the boy, and left him
in his pleasing illusion. He wondered that Dr. Amboyne
should have tacked this biped on to him.
They entered Cheetham's works, and Henry marched grimly
into the office, and showed Mr. Bayne his credentials.
" Why, Little, you had no need of that."
" Oh, it is as well to have no misunderstanding with your
employer's masters. I visit these works for my present employer, Dr. Amboyne, with the consent of Mr. Cheetham, here
written."
***"wViry well, sir," said Bayne, obsequiously; " and I res5e'ctfalIy solicit the honour of conducting our esteemed visitor."
A young man's ill humour could not stand against this.
" Come along, old fellow," said Henry.  I'm a bear, with a
sore heart; but who could be such a brute as quarrel with
you?  Let us begin with the chaps who drove me out-the
grinders. I'm hired to philanthropize 'em-d-n 'cm."
They went among the dry-grinders first; and Henry made
the following observations. The workmen's hair and clothes
were powdered with grit and dust from the grindstones. The



ITT 'OURSELF IN IITS PLACE.              l]U
very air was impregnated with it, and soon irritated his own
lungs perceptibly. Here was early death by bronchitis and
lung diseases, reduced to a certainty.   i e also learned
from the men that the quantity of metal groun~ off was prodigious, and entered their bodies they scarce knew how. A
razor-grinder showed him his shirt: it was a deep buff colour,
"There, sir," said he, "that was clean on yesterday. All the
washerwomen in Hillsboro' can't make a shirt of mine any
other colour but that." The effect on life, health, and happi
ness was visible; a single glance revealed rounded shoulders
and narrow chests, caused partly by the grinder's position on
his horsing, a position very injurious to the organs of breathing, and partly by the two devil's dusts that filled the air;
cadaverous faces, the muscles of which betrayed habitual suffering, coughs short and dry, or with a frothy expectoration
peculiar to the trade.
In answer to questions, many complained of a fearful tightness across the chest, of inability to eat or to digest. One
said it took him five minutes to get up the factory stairs, and
he had to lean against the wall several times.
A razor-grinder of twenty-two, with death in his face, told
Henry he had come into that room when he was eleven. " It
soon takes hold of boys," said he. " I've got what I shall
never get shut on."
Another, who looked ill, but not dying, received Henry's
sympathy with a terrible apathy. " I'm twenty-eight," said
he; " and a fork-grinder is an old cock at thirty. I must look
to drop off my perch in a year or two, like the rest."
Only one, of all these victims, seemed to trouble his head
about whether death and disease could be averted. This one
complained that some employers provided fans to drive the dust
from the grinder, but Cheetham would not go to the expense.
The rest that Henry spoke to accepted their fate doggedly.
They were ready to complain, but not to move a finger in selfdefence. Their fathers had been ground out young, and why
not they?
Indifferent to life, health, and happiness, they could nevertheless be inflamed about sixpence a week. In other words,
the money-price of their labour was everything to them, the
blood-price nothing.
Henry found this out, and it gave him a glimpse into the
mind of Amboyne.
He felt quite confused, and began to waver between hate,



102           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
contempt, and pity. Was it really these poor doomed wretches
who had robbed,pi of his livelihood?  Could men so miscalculate the sjiP of things, as to strike because an inoffensive
individual was r'A'king complete carving-tools all by himself,
and yet not strie, nor even stipulate for fans, to carry disease
and death away from their own vitals? Why it seemed wasting
hate, to bestow it on these blind idiots.
He went on to the wet-grinders; and he found their trade
much healthier than dry-grinding: yet there were drawbacks.
They suffered from the grit whenever a new stone was hung
and raced.  They were also subject to a canker of the hands,
and to colds, coughs, and inflammations, from perspiration
checked by cold draughts and drenched floors.  These floors
were often mud, and so the wet stagnated and chilled their
feet, while their bodies were very hot. ( Excellent recipe for
filling graves.'
Here Bayne retired to his books, and Henry proceeded to
the saw-grinders, and entered their rooms with no little
interest, for they were an envied trade.  They had been for
many years governed by Grotait, than whom no man in
England saw clearer; though such men as Amboyne saw
farther. Grotait, by a system of Machiavellian policy, ingeniously devised and carried out, nobly, basely, craftily, forcibly,
benevolently, ruthlessly, whichever way best suited the particular occasion, had built a model union; and still, with unremitting zeal and vigilance, contrived to keep numbers down
and prices up-which is the great Union problem.
The work was hard, but it was done in a position favourable to the lungs, and the men were 'healthy brawny fellows;
one or two were of remarkable stature.
Up to this moment Silly Billy had fully justified that title.
He had stuck to Henry's side like a dog, but with no more
interest in the inquiry than a calf. Indeed, his wandering eye
and vacant face, had indicated that his scanty wits were woolgathering miles from the place that contained his body.
But, as soon as he entered the saw-grinders' room, his
features lighted up, and his eye kindled.  He now took up a
commanding position in the centre, and appeared to be listening keenly. And he had not listened many seconds before he
cried out, " There's the bad music! there! there! "  And he
pointed to a grindstone that was turning and doing its work
exactly like the others.  " Oh, the bad music! " cried Billy.
' It is out of tune. It says,' Murder I murder-I Out of tune I'"



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              103
Henry thought it his duty to inspect the grindstone so
vigorously denounced, and, naturally enough, went in front of
the grinder.  But Billy pulled him violently to the side.
" You mustn't stand there," said he. " That is the way they
fly when they break, and kill the poor father, and then the
mother lets down her hair, and the boy goes crazed."
By this time the men were attracted by the Anomaly's
gestures and exclamations, and several left their work, and
came round him.   "What is amiss, Billy? a flawed stone,
eh? which is it?"
"Here! here!" said the boy.    "This is the wheel of
death. Kill it, break it, smash it, before it kills another father."
Henry spoke to the grinder, and asked him if there was
anything amiss with the stone.
The man seemed singularly uneasy at being spoken to:
however he made answer sullenly that he had seen better ones,
and worse ones, and all.
Henry was, however, aware, that the breaking of a large
grindstone while revolving by steam-power, was a serious, and
often a fatal thing; he therefore made a private mark upon
the wall opposite the grindstone, and took his excited companion to Bayne.   " This poor lad says he has found a
defective grindstone.  It is impossible for me to test it while
it is running.  Will you let us into the works when the sawgrinders have left?"
Bayne hem'd and haw'd a little, but consented. He would
remain behind half-an-hour to oblige Little.
Henry gave the Anomaly his dinner, and then inspected
the file-cutters in two great works.  Here he found suicide
reduced to a system. Whereof anon. Returning, to keep his
appointment with Bayne, he met a well-dressed man, who
stopped Billy, and accosted him kindly.
Henry strolled on.
He heard their voices behind him all the way, and the man
stopped at Cheetham's gate, which rather surprised him.
" Has Billy told you what we are at? " said he.
"Yes. But the very look of him was enough.    I know
Billy, and his ways, better than you do."
" Very likely. What, are you coming in with us? "
"If you have no objection."
The door was opened by Bayne in person.  He started at
sight of the companion his friend had picked up, and asked
him, with marked civility, if there was anything amiss. " Not



104

i4Ptr YOURSELF INK 1115 PLACE&

tlhat I know of," was the reply.  1" I merely thought that my
experience might be of some little service to you in an inquiry
of this kind."
" Not a doubt of it, sir," said Bayne, and led the way with
his lantern, for it was past sunset.  On the road, the visitor
asked if anybody had marked the accused stone. Henry said
he should know it again. "( That is right," said the other.
On entering the room, this personage took Billy by tho
arm, and held him. " Let us have no false alarms," he said,
and blindfolded the boy with his handkerchief in a moment.
And now an examination commenced, which the time and
the place rendered curious and striking.
It was a long, lofty room; the back part mainly occupied
by the drums that were turned by the driving-power. The
power was on the floor above, and acted by means of hugo
bands that came down through holes in the ceiling and turned
the drums. From each of these drums came two leather bands,
each of which turned a pulley-wheel, and each pulley-wheel a
grindstone, to whose axle it was attached; but now the grindstones rested in the troughs, and the great wheel-bands hung
limp, and the other bands lay along loose and serpentine. In
the dim light of a single lamp, it all looked like a gigantic
polypus with its limbs extended lazily, and its fingers holding
semicircular claws: for of the grindstones less than half is
visible.
Billy was a timid creature, and this blindfolding business
rather scared him: he had almost to be dragged within reach
of these gaunt antennae. But each time they got him to touch
a grindstone, his body changed its character from shrinking
and doubtful, to erect and energetic, and he applied his test.
This boy carried with him, night and day, a little wooden
hammer, like an auctioneer's, and with this he now tapped
each stone several times, searching for the one he had
denounced: and, at each experiment, he begged the others
to keep away from him and leave him alone with the subject
of his experiment; which they did, and held up the lamp and
threw the light on him.
Six heavy grindstones he tapped, and approved, three he
even praised and called "good music."
The seventh he struck twice, first gently, then hard, and
drew back from it, screaming, I" Oh, the bad music! Oh, the
wheel of death I" and tried to tear the handkerchief from
his eyes.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

105

" Be quiet, Billy," said the visitor, calmly; and, putting
his arm round the boy's neck, drew him to his side, and
detached the handkerchief, all in a certain paternal way that
seemed to betoken a kindly disposition.  But, whilst he was
doing this, he said to Henry, " Now-you marked a stone in
daylight: which was it? "
" No, no, I didn't mark the stone, but I wrote on the wall
just opposite. Lend us the light, Bayne. By George, here is
my mark right opposite this stone."
" Then Billy's right. Well done, Billy."  He put his
hand in his pocket and gave him a new shilling.  He then
inquired of Bayne, with the air of a pupil seeking advice from
a master, whether this discovery ought not to be acted upon.
" What would you suggest, sir? " asked Bayne with equal
deference.
" Oh, if I was sure I should not be considered presump-.
tuous in offering my advice, I would say, Turn the stone into
the yard, and hang a new one.  You have got three excellent
ones outside; from Buckhurst quarry, by the look of them."
" It shall be done, sir."
This effective co-operation, on the part of a stranger, was
naturally gratifying to Henry, and he said to him: " I should
be glad to ask you a question. You seem to know a good deal
about this trade- "
A low chuckle burst out of Bayne, but he instantly suppressed it, for fear of giving offence" Are serious accidents really common with these grindstones?"
" No, no," said Bayne, " not common. Heaven forbid."
" They are not common-in the newspapers," replied the
other. "But," (to Bayne,) "will you permit me to light
these two gaslights for a moment?"
" Well, sir, it is contrary to our rules,-but-"
" All the more obliging of you," said the visitor, coolly,
and lighted them, with his own match in a twinkling. He
then drew out of his waistcoat pocket a double eyeglass, gold
mounted, and examining the ceiling with it, soon directed
Henry's attention to two deep dents and a brown splash.
" Every one of those marks," said he, " is a history, and was
written by a flying grindstone. Where you see the dents the
stone struck the ceiling;" he added, very gravely, " and, when
it came down again, ask yourself, did it always fall right?
These histories are written only on the ceiling and the w~lls.



106

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

The floor could tell its tales too; but a crushed workman is
soon swept off it, and the wheels go on again."
1" That is too true," said Henry. 1" And it does a chap's
heart good to hear a gentleman like you--
"I'm not a gentleman. I'm an old Saw."
" Excuse me, sir, you look like a gentleman, and talk like
one."
"And I try to conduct myself like one: but I am an
old Saw."
" What! and carry a gold eyeglass?"
"The Trade gave it me. I'm an old Saw."
" Well then, all the better, for you can tell me, and please
do: have you ever actually known fatal accidents from this
cause?"
I have known the light grinders very much shaken by a
breaking stone, and away from work a month after it. And,
working among saw-grinders, who use heavy stones, and stand
over them in working, I've seen--Billy, go and look at thy
shilling, in the yard, and see which is brightest, it or the
moon. Is he gone?   I've seen three men die within a few
yards of me. One, the stone flew in two pieces; a fragment,
weighing about four hundredweight I should say, struck him
on the breast, and killed him on place; he never spoke. I've
forgotten his very name. Another; the stone went clean out
of window, but it kicked the grinder backwards among the
machinery, and his head was crushed like an eggshell. But
the worst of all was poor Billy's father. He had been warned
against his stone; but he said he would run it out. Well, his
little boy, that is Billy, had just brought him in his tea, and
was standing beside him, when the stone went like a pistolshot, and snapped the horsing chains like thread; a piece
struck the wall, and did no harm, only made a hole; but the
bigger half went clean up to the ceiling, and then fell plumb
down again; the grinder he was knocked stupid like, and had
fallen forward on his broken horsing; the grindstone fell right
on him, and, ah,-I saw the son covered with the father's
blood."
He shuddered visibly, at the recollection. "Ay," said he,
"the man a corpse, and the lad an idiot. One faulty stone
did that, within four yards of me, in a moment of time."
" Good heavens!"
" I was grinding at the next stone but one. He was taken,
and I was left. It, might iust as well have been the other way



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

107

No saw-grinder can make sure, when he gets on his horsing,
that he will come off it alive."
The visitor left Henry to think of this while he drew Bayne
aside, and spoke on another matter.
Afterwards, all three left the works together; and Hemy
was so pleased with his new ally, that he told him at the
gate, he should be glad if he might be allowed to make his
acquaintance.
" By all means," said the other.  " I am quite at your
service. You will find me at the ' Cutlers' Arms.' "
"Who shall I ask for?"
"George Grotait."
"Grotait. The devil!"
' No, no. Not quite so had as that."
"What," said Henry, roughly, " do you mean to say you
are Old Smitem?"
" That is a namefools give me."
Henry had no reply ready, and so the sturdy old secretary
got the better of him again, and went his way unruffled.
Henry scolded Bayne for not telling him. Bayne excused
himself on the ground that he thought everybody knew Grotait.
He added, " He knew you, and told me if he could serve you,
without being unjust to the Trades, I was to tell him."
Henry replied to this only by a snort of defiance, and bade
him good night.
The next day and the next were spent in other works, and
then Henry, having no more facts to learn, fell into deep
dejection again. He saw he must either cheat Dr. Amboyne,
by shamming work, or else must leave Hillsborough,
He had the honesty to go to the Doctor and say that he
had mastered the whole matter, and didn't see his way to take
any more wages from a friend.
" You mean you have mastered the broad facts."
"I have, sir, and they are beyond belief; especially the
file-cutters. They are the most numerous of all the Trades,
and die like sheep. If your notion about Life, Labour, and
Capital is right, the Trades are upside down; for the deadliest
are the worst paid."
" And you are prepared with the remedies?"
" Not I."
t' let you fancy you are at the end of your work. Why,
you are only beginning. Now comes the real brain-work;
invention. Now are craniology and you upon your trial. But



108          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
you are quite right about weekly salary. Invention must not
be so degraded, but paid by the piece. Life, Labour, and
Capital are upside down in this place, are they?  Then you
shall be the man to set them on their legs? "
Henry shook his head. "Never, sir, unless I could give
the masters bowels, and the men brains."
" Well, and why not? To invention all things are possible.
You carry a note-book?"
"Yes, sir."
" Got it in your pocket?"
"No; on my shoulders."
"Haw! haw! haw! Then write this down in it-' THERE'S
A KEY TO EVERY LOCK.'
" It's down, sir."
" Now you must go out trout-fishing with Billy. He will
take you on the hills, where the air is pure, and favourable to
invention. You will divert your mind from all external subjects, especially Billy, who is a fool, and his trout-killing
inhumane, and I a merciless glutton for eating them; and
you will think, and think, and think, and forge the required
key to this lock with three wards-Life, Labour, Capital.
And, when forged, the Philanthropic Society shall pay you a
good price for it. Meantime, don't dream of leaving Hillsborough, or I shall give you a stirrup-cup that will waft you
much farther than London; for it shall be of ' prussic acid all
composed,' or 'juice of cursed Hebenon in a phial.' Come,
away with you."
" Good-by, doctor. God bless you. You have found 'the
key to my heart' somehow. I come to you a miserable brokenhearted dog, and you put life and hope into me directly. I
declare talking with you it's like drinking sunshine. I'll try
all I know to please you."
He went down the street with his old elastic tread, and
muttered to himself, " There's no lock without a key."
Next day he went out on the hills with Billy, and saw him
tickle trout, and catch them under stones, and do many strange
things, and all the time he thought of Grace Carden, and
bemoaned his sad fate. He could not command his mind,
and direct it to philanthropy. His heart would not let him,
and his personal wrongs were too recent. After a short
struggle, these got so thoroughly the better, that he found
himself stealing the Doctor's words for his own purposes.
"No lock without a key."  Then there must be some way of



FUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             109
outwitting these cursed Trades, and so making money enough
to set up as a master, and tnen court her, and woo her, and
marry her. Heaven seemed to open on him at this prospect,
and he fell into a deep reverie. By-and-by, as he pondered,
it seemed to him as if the shadow of a coming idea was projected in advance of the idea itself. He knew somehow there
was a way to baffle his enemies, and resume his business, and
yet he could not see the way; but still he was absolutely
conscious it existed.
This conviction took such hold of him, that he became
restless, and asked Billy to leave off and come away. The
youth consented, and they returned to the town with a basket
of trout. Henry sent Billy on to the Doctor with half of
them, and took the other half to his friend Bayne.
On what a trifle things turn. Bayne was very much
pleased with his little attention, and asked him to take them
to his lodging, and beg the landlady to cook them for dinner.
" Tell her you dine with me, old fellow."
" Oh, hang it, I wasn't fishing for a dinner."
" As if I didn't know that. But you must. Then I shall
enjoy your company in peace. I shall be there in an hour."
And so he was: but in that one hour events had occurred
that I shall leave Mr. Bayne to relate.
During dinner neither of the friends wasted much time in
talk; but, after dinner, Bayne produced a bottle of port, notwithstanding Henry's remonstrances at being treated like p
stranger, and it soon became apparent that the host himself
was not in the habit of drinking that generous mixture every
day. At the second glass he so far forgot himself as to utter
the phrase " Eternal Friendship," and, soon after, he began
to writhe in his chair, and, at last, could no longer refrain
himself, but told Henry that Miss Carden had been canvassing
customers. She had just sent in orders for six sets of carvingtools, all for friends of her own.
Henry coloured to the temples at this unexpected proof
that she he loved thought of him too.
" Oh, Bayne," cried the poor young man, almost choking,
"I little thought-God bless her! "
"Let us drink her health," said Bayne, excitedly.
" Ah, that I will!"  And this was the first glass Henry
drank honestly.
" Now, Little, I'm not doing quite right, you know; but I
must tell you. When we lost you--you know- that set of tools



110          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
the Union dropped in our yard--well, he sent them to London
for yours."
" That is just like him," said Henry, bitterly.
" And I'll tell you a good joke; they were in the place
when you called, only not unpacked till just before I came
away. Returned, sir! with a severe reprimand. 'Wonder
you should send us such things as these for carving-tools by
Little. If the error is not repaired shall consider ourselves at
liberty to communicate direct with that workman.' A regular
sugar-plum."
O       " Oh, thank you, my kind friend, for telling me. The
world isn't all bitterness, after all: a poor fellow gets a sweet
drop of friendship now and then."
" Yes, and a good drop of port now and then, though I
say it that shouldn't. Fill up. Well, my boy, Cheetham is
in a fine way. I left him walking about the office like a
hyana. So now is your time. You can't fight the Trades;
but, if Cheetham will go in with you, and I know he will, for
he is sorer than you are, you can trick the Trades yet."
" Ah! tell me how, that is all."
"Oh, I can't tell you exactly. I'll try, though. I say,
what a glorious thing the Ruby is: it inspires us, and fires us,
etcetera, and gives us ideas beyond our sphere. Did you ever
see one of these new portable forges?"
" No, never heard of them."
"No wonder; they are just out. Well, buy one of them
-they were invented here-and carry it to some dismal
cavern, where the foot of man never treads: make Cheetham
grind your blades in another county: and who will ever know?
Go to him, and don't say a word, but just ask him for your
month's salary.  Then he will open the door of business
himself-safe. I'll drink "his health. Hie's not a bad sort,
Cheetham: only he'd sell his soul for money. I hate such
rubbish; here's 'Perdition to the lot and no heel-taps.' "
These words of fire set Henry pondering deeply; and, as
he pondered, Bayne stuck to the port, and so effectually, that,
at last, after an interval of silence, he came out in a new
character. He disturbed his companion's reverie by informing
him, in a loud aggressive tone, that it had long been his secret
wish to encounter the Hillsborough Trades, in the persons of
their secretaries, under the following conditions; a twenty-four
feet ring: an experienced referee: and a kingdom looking on,
As to the order of the pugilistic events, he wap not nrroasoi


PUT YOURSELF IN HIIS PLACE.

11l

ably fastidious; must stipulate to begin with old Smitem;
but, after that, they might encounter their fate in any order
they chose, one down, t'other come on. He let him know that
this ardent desire for single combats, in an interminable series,
arose from their treatment of his friend--" the best friendthe best heart-oh!-the best company-oh! oh!-the best
-oh! oh! oh! "    Whereupon he wept, the bellicose Bayne.
And, after weeping the usual quantity, he twaddled, and, after
twaddling, he became as pacific as ever, for he went to sleep
in his chair.
And, while he snoozed, the words he had uttered set his
friend's brain boiling and bubbling.
When the time came at which Bayne ought to return to the
works, Henry called the landlady, and said, "Mr. Bayne is
not very well. I am going to make his excuses. I wouldn't
disturb him till five, if I was you, and then I'd give him a
strong cup of tea."
Henry then went direct to the office, and found Mr. Choetham there.
" Well? " said Mr. Cheetham, rather surlily.
"I am come to ask for my month, sir."
" So I guessed. Do you really mean to exact that?"
" Why not, sir?"
" Haven't you heard how they ground me down?"
"Yes, sir. But why did you give in?    I was true to
you, but you failed me. I'd have shut up the works for three
months, rather than be made a slave of, and go from my word."
" Ay, ay; that's bachelor's talk.  I've got a wife and
children; and they make a man a mouse."
" Well, sir, I forgive you: but as to my month's wagesnow all I say is-PUT YOURSELF IN MY PLACE!
"Well? "
"You are me. You are brought from London, under an
agreement, a month's notice on either side. You work, and
give satisfaction. You are threatened, but you don't run from
your employer. You are blown up, and nearly killed. You
lose a fortnight, but you don't charge for it; 'twasn't your
employer's fault. You come back to him, and face the music
again. You work with the sword hanging over you. But your
employer gives in, and sacks you in a minute. Oughtn't you
to have your month?    Come now, man to man, oughtn't
you?"
" I ought, and that's the truth. I didn't look at it that



112          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
way. I saw my own side. There-no more about it-I'll
draw the cheque-with a good heart."
lie drew his cheque-book to him, with a face as if vultures
were tearing his vitals.
When Henry found him Amboynable, and saw his piteous
looks, he felt a little softened towards him, and he said, very
impressively, " Wait one moment, sir, I've got an idea. I'm
not the sort that likes to be beat. Are you "   The men
looked steadily at each other.
Cheetham lowered his voice: "I've had hell inside me
ever since. I thought I was a man, but they made a mouse
of me.   If you know any way to beat them, I'll go in
with you."
"Well, sir, there's a key to every lock."
" That is well said, and I believe it; but one can't always
find the key."
"I almost think I have, sir."
" ee nobody is listening. Where is Bayne? He is due."
" Oh, he is not very well, sir; and I was to ask you for an
hour's absence."
" Let him have the whole afternoon. I'll not have a soul
in this but us two. Now come close, and tell me."
They sat opposite each other, and put their heads together
over the table, and the following dialogue passed almost in a
whisper. To see them, you woul4 have thought they were
conspiring against the law, instead of combining to hide a
lawful act from the violators of the law.
"I can forge the blades a dozen miles from Hillsborough."
"Not you; you will be told of. That won't do."
"I shall not be told of; for nobody will know but you. I
shall only forge at night; and the building is out of the world,
and wedged in, out of sight, between two bleak hills. Sir, it
is a deserted church."
" What, forge blades in a church? "
"A -deserted church; why not? "
"Little, you are A 1. Go on."
"I can get the blades ground by a friend at Birmingham;
and my mother and I can put them together at home. The
complete articles will come to you in parcels of a certain
coloured paper, invoiced in cipher outside, so that they need
not be opened; you can trust the invoice, and despatch them
to your London agent."
" All right."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

118

" The steel you must supply me at the current price, and
sharge it against me."
" Certainly. But your price per gross?  For this work
can't be done by time."
" Of course not."  And Henry named a price per gross
at which Cheetham lifted up his hands. " Why, you'll take
nine pounds a week at that! "
" Ay, and more," said Henry, coolly. "But I sha'n't
make it. Why, this scheme entails no end of expenses. A
house, and stables with back entrance. A swift horse, to
gallop to the forge at sunset, and back by noon. A cart to
take the things to the railway and back, and to the parcel
delivery for you. And, besides that, I must risk my neck,
riding over broken ground at night; and working night and
day shortens life. You can't reduce these things to Labour
and Capital. It's Life, Labour, and Capital."
" Hallo! There's a new cry. I tell ye what; you know
too much for me. You read the Beehive. I take you at your
price."
Then he had a misgiving. "That old Smitem's as crafty
as a fox. If he finds you stay here, with no visible employment, he will soon be down on us."
" Ay; but in the daytime I shall appear as a carver of
wood, and also an inspector of factories for Dr. Amboyne.
Who will suspect me of a night trade, as well as two day
trades?"
Cheetham slapped the table triumphantly; but, recovering
his caution, he whispered, " It's planned first-rate."
" And now, sir, there is one difficulty you must help me
in, if you please. It is to set up the forge unobserved."
"What, am I to find the forge? "
" There's a question, sir! Of course you are. One of
these new portable forges."
Cheetham reflected for some little time. He then said it
was a ticklish thing, and he saw but one way. " The forge
must come here, after closing hours, and you and I must fetch
it away in the dead of night, and take it down to the old
church, and set it up."
" Well, but, sir, we shall want assistance."
"Nay, nay. I've got the last suit of moleskin I ever
worked in laid away. I'll air 'cm, and put 'em on again;
and, when I've got 'em on once more, I shall feel a man again.
I'll have  cither fool ror spy in it; the thing is too serious,



114          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
I might bring some country fellow, that can't read or write;
but no, these portables are small things, and I'm one of tha
strongest men in Hillsborough. Best keep it to ourselves.
When is it to be? "
" Say next Wednesday, two hours after midnight."
" Then that is settled. And now I'll square the old
account, as agreed." He drew his cheque-book towards him
again.
But Henry stopped him. "Fair play's a jewel," said he,
smiling. "' The moment you sacked me-    "
" Say the Trades, not me."
" Dr. Amboyne hired me, at six guineas a week, to inspect
the works. So you owe me nothing; but to be true to me."
This trait, though it was one of simple probity, astonished
and gratified Mr. Cheetham. He looked on the young man
with marked respect.   " You are hard; but you are very
square. I'll be true as steel to you, and we'll outwit our
tyrants together, till I get a chance to put my foot on them.
Yes, I'll be open with you; there are plenty of orders from
London and the Continent, and one for six sets from swells in
Hillsborough."
" Might I see that order? "
" Why not?  There, run your eye over it. I want to go
into the packing-room for a minute."
He then tossed Henry the order, as if it was nothing more
than an order.
But it was a great deal more than that to Henry. It wac
Grace Carden's handwriting, the first specimen he had ever
seen.
He took the paper in his hand, and a slight perfume came
from it that went to his heart. He devoured the delicately
formed letters, and they went to his heart too: he thrilled all
over. And the words were as like her as the perfume. She
gave the order, and the addresses of her friends, with a pretty
little attempt at the business-like; but, this done, she burst
out, "and we all entreat you to be good to poor Mr. Little,
and protect him against the wicked, cruel, abominable Unions."
These sweet words made his heart beat violently, and
brought the tears of tenderness into his eyes. He kissed the
words again and again. He put them into his bosom, and
took them out again, and gloated over them till they danced
before his manly eyes. Then his love took another tarn: he,
started up, and marched and strutted, like a young stag, about



PUT YOUhRSELF IN HIS PLACE.             16
the room, with one hand pressing the paper to his bosom.
Why had he said Wednesday?    It could all have been got
ready on Tuesday. No matter, he would make up for that lost
day. He was on the road once more, the road to fortune, and
to her.
Cheetham came in, and found him walking excitedly, with
the paper in his hand, and of course took the vulgar view of
his emotion.
" Ay, lad," said he, "and they are all swells, I promise
you.  There's Miss Laura Craske.     That's the mayor's
daughter.  Lady Betty Tyrone.    She's a visitor.   Miss
Castleton! Her father is the county member."
" And who is this Mr. Coventry? " asked Henry.
" Oh, he is a landed gentleman, but spends his tin in
Hillsborough; and you can't blame him.    Mr. Coventry?
Why, that is Miss Carden's intended."
" Her intended! " gasped Henry.
" I mean her beau. The gentleman she is going to marry,
they say."
Henry Little turned cold, and a tremor ran through him;
but he did not speak a word; and, with Spartan fortitude,
suppressed all outward sign of emotion. He laid the paper
down patiently, and went slowly away.
Loyal to his friend even in this bitter moment, he called at
Bayne's place, and left word with the landlady that Mr. Bayne
was not wanted at the works any more that day.
But he could not bear to talk to Bayne about his plans.
They had lost their relish. IHe walked listlessly away, and
thought it all over.
For the first time he saw his infatuation clearly. Was
ever folly like his?  If she had been a girl in humble life,
would he not have asked whether she had a sweetheart?  Yet
he must go and give his heart to a lady without inquiry.
There, where wisdom and prudence were most needed, he had
speculated like an idiot. He saw it, and said to himself, " 1
have acted like a boy playing at pitch-farthing, not like a man
who knew the value of his heart."
And so he passed a miserable time, bemoaning the treasure
that was now quite inaccessible instead of nearly, and the
treasure of his own heart he had thrown away.
He awoke with a sense of misery and deep depression, and
could not eat; and that was a novelty in his young and healthy
life, He drank a cup of tea, however, and then went out, to
12



116          PUT YOCTRSELF TI   HIS PLACE.
avoid his mother's tender looks of anxious inquiry. He meant
to tell her all one day; but to-day he was not strong enough.
He must wait till he was cured; for cured he must be, cured
he would be.
He now tried to give his mind to the task Amboyne had
set him; but it was too hard: he gave it up, with rage and
despair.
Then he made a desperate resolve, which will not surprise
those who know the human heart. He would harden himself.
He would see more of Miss Carden than ever; only it should
be in quite a new light. He would look at her, and keep
saying to himself all the time, " You are another man's wife."
With this determination, he called at " Woodbine Villa."
Miss Carden was not at home.
" Are you sure she is not at home? "
" Not at home," replied the man stiffly.
"But you needn't to keep him at the door," said a mellow
female voice.
" No, Miss," said the man, with a sudden change of manner, for he was a desperate and forlorn admirer of the last
speaker. " Come in, sir."  And he ushered him in to Jael
Dence. She was in her bonnet, and just going out. They
shook hands, and she told him Miss Garden was out walking.
"Walking with her beau? " said Henry, affecting a jaunty
air, but sick within.
" That's more than I can say," replied Jael.
"You know nothing about it, of course," said Henry,
roughly.
Jael looked surprised at the uncalled-for tone, and turned
a mild glance of inquiry and reproach upon him.
The young man was ashamed of himself, and at that
moment, too, he remembered he had already been rather ungrateful to her. So, to make amends, he said, "Didn't I
promise to take you to Cairnhope?"
"C Ay," said Jael; and she beamed and blushed in a
moment.
" Well, I must go there, Sunday at the latest. So I will
come for you, if you like. Will you be ready at ten o'clock? "
" Yes."
" I'll bring a gig, and take you like a lady."
" Any way you please. I'd as lieve walk as ride."
" I prefer riding. Ten o'clock, the day after to-morrowA
(nrol-bv;'



PUT YOURSELF IN IIS PLACE.

117

And he hurried away, provoked, not pleased, at the manifeet pleasure he had given. The woman he loved-inaccessible i The woman he only liked-he could spend the whole
day with her. So the reasonable youth was cross with her for
that, and for being so pleased, when he was wretched.
That feeling soon wore off, however, and, being a man of
business, he wrote a line to Martha Dence, and told her he
should visit her on Sunday. He added, with a gleam of good
humour, " and look out, for I shall bring my lass," intending
to give them all an agreeable surprise; for Jael, he knew, was
an immense favourite.
Next day he went on the hills with Billy, and, instead
of thinking for the benefit' of his enemies, as agreed with
Amboyne, he set himself to hate everybody, especially Miss
Garden's lover, and the Hillsborough Unions. The grinders
and file-cutters might die like sheep. What did he care? As
much as they cared for him. Dr. Amboyne was too good for
this world, and should keep his money to himself. He (Henry
Little) would earn none of it, would take none of it. What
invention he had, should all go to outwit the Trades, and turn
that old rutfian's church into his own smithy. This double
master-stroke, by which he was to defeat one enemy, and
secretly affront another, did make him chuckle once or twice,
not with joy, but with bitterness.
He awoke in a similar mood next morning: but there was
eight o'clock service near, and the silver-toned bell awakened
better thoughts. He dressed hurriedly, and went to church.
He came back sadder, but rather less hot, less bitter; he
had his breakfast, improved his toilet, went to the livery-stable,
and drove to " Woodbine Villa."
Mr. and Miss Carden had just finished breakfast, when he
drove up to the door.
" Who is this? " said Mr. Carden.
" What, have you forgotten Mr. Little? '
"Indeed! Why, how he is dressed. I took him for a
gentleman."
" You were not very far wrong, papa. He is a gentleman
at heart"
Jael came in, equipped for the ride.   She was neatly
dressed, and had a plain shepherd's-plaid shawl, that suited
her noble bust. She looked a picture of health and happiness.
" If you please, Miss, he is come to take me to Cairnhope."
" Oh I it is for that! And I declare you expected hipm too,"



11o          PUT YOURSELF IN III PLACE.
"Yes," said Jael, and blushed.
" You never told me," said Grace, with a slight touch of
asperity.
"I didn't feel very sure he would keep his word."
" Then you don't know him as well as I do."
" I haven't the chance. He speaks a deal more to you
than he do to me."
" Well, Jael, you needn't snub me, because you are going
with Mr. Little."
As a bone, put between two friendly dogs, causes a growl,
so when a handsome young man enters on the scene, I have
seen young women lose a little of that unmitigated sweetness,
which marked them a moment before.
With Grace, however, to snap and to repent generally
followed in a breath. " I hope you will have a happy day,
dear, as happy as you deserve." She then went to kiss her,
but gave her cheek, instead of her lips. "There," said she,
in rather a flurried way, " don't keep Mr. Little waiting."
Just as they drove off, Grace came to the window, after a
slight irresolution, and kissed her hand to them enchantingly;
at which a sudden flood of rapture rushed through Little's
heart, and flushed his cheek, and fired his dark eye; Grace
caught its flash full in hers, and instinctively retired a step.
They were off.
" How bright and happy they look," said she to her father.
And no wonder.
She sat down, and, somehow, she felt singularly dull and
lonely.
Then she dressed for church, languidly. Then she went
to churci. By-and-by she came back from church.
Then she sat down, in her bonnet, and felt alone in the
world and sad; and, at last, she found herself quietly crying,
as young ladies will sometimes, without any visible cause.
Then she asked herself what on earth, she was crying
about, and herself told her she was a little hysterical fool,
and wanted a good beating.
Then she plucked up spirit, and dried her eyes. Then
she took to yawning, and said Sunday was a dull day, and lifo
itself rather a wearisome thing.
Then-a servant came to inquire if she was at home.
'What, on Sunday?   Of course not. Who is it?
" Mr. Coventry, Miss."
" I am at home."



PVT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

119

CHAPTER X.
PEOPiL that met Jael Dence and Henry Little driving to
Cairnhope were struck with their faces; - his so dark, hers so
fair, and both so handsome: but the woman's lit up with
lively delight, the man's clouded and sorrowful, and his brow
knit with care. This very day he must take the lock off
Cairnhope old church, in spite of his uncle Raby. He had
got the requisite tools with him hidden in the gig; but, even
should he succeed, it was but the first step of a difficult and,
perhaps, dangerous enterprise; and he was entering on it all
with a heart no longer buoyed by hopeful love. But for his
pledge to Mr. Cheetham, he could hardly have persisted in the
struggle.
As for Jael Dence, she had no great reason to be happy
either: the man she loved loved another. Still he was kind
to her, and they belonged to the same class; she had a
chance, and gleams of hope. And, after all, the future was
uncertain, but the present certain; she had him to herself foi
the day. She was close to him-so close, that she could feel
him,-and he was driving her out, and to those who loved her:
she basked in the present delight, and looked as if she was
being taken to heaven by an angel, instead of driven to Cairnhope by a gloomy young man, whom the passers-by envied,
and wondered at his good luck in having such a companion.
She talked to him, and got the short answers of an absent
man. But she continued to make her little remarks occasionally, and, ere they reached Cairnhope, he found himself
somehow soothed by her sex, her beauty, and her mellow,
kindly voice.
As they drove up to the farmhouse, he told her to hide
her face a moment, for they didn't know who it was.
Martha ran out. " Y'are welcome, y'are welcome; and so
is your-     Eh!   Why it's our Jael. 'Tis no avail to hide
thy face, thou jade; I know every bit o' thee." And Patty
had her out of the gig in a moment, and there was a cuddling
match it did one good to see.
Henry perked up for a moment and offered a suggestion.
' Some of that ought to come my way, for bringing her here."
" Oh, you'll get enough o' that fun before you die," said
Patty. "Now come you in; the carter's boy will take the
boroe,"



120          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
They went in and greeted the old farmer; and soon the
bell began to ring for church, and Nathan Dence told Martha
to put on her bonnet.
"La, father! " said she, piteously.
" She prefers to stay at home and chat with Jael," said
Henry. The fact is, he wanted to be rid of them both.
Old Dence shook his head. He was one of those simple,
grand, old rustic Christians, who have somehow picked out
the marrow of religion, and left the devil the bone, yclept
Theology. "What? " said he, " my lasses I can't ye spare
God a slice out of his own day?"
"Nay, it is not that, father."
The old man continued his remonstrance. " To be sure
our Jael is a cordial. But she'll dine and sup with us. Take
my word for't, all lawful pleasures are sweeter on the Lord's
day after a bit o' church."
"And so they are, father; but dear heart! to think of
you forgetting. Will nobody tell him?   They're sworn to
give me a red face, Jael and all."
This piteous appeal set Jael's wits working.    "Eh,
father, it will be the first of her banns!"
" Is it me you are asking such a question?" cried Patty,
and turned her head away with absurd mock-modesty.
" And so 'tis," said Dence; " ah, that is a different
thing."
Henry thought that was no reason for Patty's staying at
home; she ought rather to go and hear the banns were cried
all right.
At this proposal both sisters lifted up their hands, and he
was remonstrated with, and lectured, and at last informed
that, if a girl was in church when her banns were cried, her
children would be all born deaf and dumb.
" Oh, indeed!" said Little, satirically. "That's a fact
in natural history I was not aware of. Well, farmer, then
let's you and I go by ourselves."
So Patty stayed at home, in obedience to rural superstition, and Jael stayed to keep her company, Farmer Dence
went to church out of piety; and as for Henry, to tell the
truth, he went to church to escape the girls' tongues, and to
be in a quiet somniferous place, where he could think out his
plans undisturbed.
The men were no sooner gone, than the sisters began tp
gossip bhad.



PUT YOURsELF IN HIS PLACE.             121
" Eh, Jael, thou's gotten a prize."
"Not as I know of."
"I do adore a dark young man."
" So do I; but this one is not mine."
~' I'll take his word before thine. Why he calls thee his
loss in his very letter."
" Not he. Show me his letter."
" What will ye give me? "
"Nay, Patty, pray show it me."
" Well, and so I will."
She brought her the letter. Jael read it and changed
colour, and was delighted for a moment or two; but soon her
good sense and humility prevailed. " 'Twas to surprise you,
like. I do know he looks higher than me."
"More fool he. But I don't believe it."
"You may," said Jael, and turned the conversation to
Patty's approaching marriage; once launched in that direction, it flowed without intermission till the men returned, and
dinner smoked upon the board.
After dinner Henry watched an opportunity, and slipped
out into the yard, got the tools out, put his great-coat over
them, and away to Cairnhope Church. He knew better than
go past Raby Hall to it; he went back towards Hillsborough,
full three miles, and then turned off the road and got on the
heather. He skirted the base of a heathery mound, and at
last saw the church on an elevation before him, made for
it incautiously over some boggy ground, and sank in up to
his waist.
He extricated himself with considerable difficulty, and
cast a woeful look at his clothes.
Then he turned to, and piled up a heap of stones to mark
the dangerous spot; for he foresaw he must often travel that
way in all weathers. At last he reached the church, removed
the lock, and fastened the door with screws. He then went
back to the farm as fast as he could. But all this had taken
a long time, and the sun was sinking as he got into the yard.
He was in the very act of concealing the lock in the gig,
when Martha Dcnce came out at him, as red as a turkeycock.
" You thought but little of my sister, young man, to leave
her all these hours, and you come out to spend the day with
her "
" Stuff and nonsense I I came out'on my own business."



122          PUT  YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE,
" So it seems. And it have taken you into worse company. A fine figure she has made you."
'"Who? "
"The hussy you have been after this while."
"That's so like you girls. You think a man has nothing
to do but to run after women."
" What business can you have on the Sabbath-day, I'd
like to know? "
"Would you?     Well, I'll tell you-when I tell the
bellman."
"You are quite right, Mr. Little.    Trust none but
friends."
This was a bitter remark. Henry could not reply to it,
and that moved his bile. Patty pursued her advantage, and
let him know that, when a young man brought a young
woman out for the day, he did not leave her for three hours at
a stretch, unless he meant to affront her. She raised her
voice in saying this, and so did he in replying, " Tell you I
came out on my own business, not Jael's; but, I am a goodnatured fellow, considering all I endured, so I took that
opportunity to bring your sister out to see you. Could I
guess you two couldn't make yourselves happy for one afternoon without flirting?  So much for sisterly affection! Well,
next time I'll come alone-if I come at all."
Jael came out at the raised voices, and received this last
sentence full in the face. She turned pale.
" Oh, Patty, Patty, what have you been saying? "
- "I've been speaking my mind, that is all."
" Ay, and you've made him say the only unkind word I
ever heard from his lips."
"I'm very sorry," said the young man, penitently.
"Oh, then I'm to blame, because he is so ill-tempered."
And Patty bridled.
" Partly. You should not interfere between friends."
Having delivered this admonition, Jael softened it by kissing
her, and whispered, " Father's asking for his tea."
Patty went in as meek as Moses.
Then Jael turned to Harry, and laid her hand on his arm,
while her grey eyes searched his face. " There's something
amiss. You are never cross, except when you are unhappy.
What is it? "
" Oh, Jael, my heart is broken. She is going to be
married."



PUT YOURSELF IN MSB PLACE.2

129

" Who says so?"
" Mr. Cheetham   told me she was engaged to a Mr.
Coventry."
" What can Mr. Cheetham know? To be sure the gentleman is a good deal with her, and I hear he has courted her
this two years; and she likes his company, that's certain.
But she is used to be admired, and she is very hard to please "
"What, then, you think it is not quite hopeless?"
" While there's life, there's hope."
" What had I better do? "
"Nay, you shouldn't ask me."
"Oh, yes: you advised me so wisely about the insurance."
"Ay, but then I saw clear. He is purse-proud, and I
knew he'd think a deal more of you if you insured your life for
a vast o' money. But now I don't see clear: and I'm loth to
advise. Happen you'd hate me afterwards if it went wrong."
"No, no, I wouldn't be so ungrateful."
Jael shook her head, doubtfully.
" Well, then," said Henry, "don't advise me; but put
yourself in my place. (I'll tell you a secret I daren't trust to
Patty. I have found a way to beat the Trades, and make my
fortune in a year or two.) Now what would you do, if you
were me?"
This question raised a tumult in Jael's heart. But her
strong will, her loyalty, and, above all, her patience, conquered,
though not without signs of the struggle, a bosom that heaved
somewhat higher, and a low voice that trembled a little. " If
I was a young man, I wouldn't shilly-shally, nor wait till I was
rich, before I spoke. I'd have it out with her. I'd get her
alone, and tell her all. Then, if she showed any sign of liking,
I'd beg her to wait a bit, and say I'd soon be a gentleman for
her sake. And, if she cares nought for you, better know it,
and leave her, than fare in heaven one hour and in hell the
next, as I have seen thee do this while, my poor lad."
" It is wise and good advice, and I'll take it. I've kept
all my courage for the Trades; I'd better have shown her a
little. But there's one thing more I want to ask you."
This was too much. Jael's courage and patience failed her
for once. " Keep it," she cried, almost wildly. "I can't
bear no more. There's not one lass in a hundred would do
what I have done for you; yet you want more. D'ye think
I'm not flesh and blood, as well as her? "
And she began to cry bitterly.



124

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

This took Henry quite by surprise, and grieved him. He
consoled her, and coaxed her, in vague terms, that did not
produce any effect. So then he kissed her cheek, and dried
her eyes with his own handkerchief, and that was not quite so
ineffectual. She gave a final sob, and said, with some slight
remains of passion, " There, there; never heed me. It takes a
deal of patience to go through the world." And so she left him.
He was not sorry to be alone a minute, and think; This
short dialogue with Jael gave him some insight into female
character. It made him suspect that he had been too timid
with Grace Garden, and also that there were two women in the
game instead of one.
When the time came to return he asked leave to borrow a
horse-cloth.
He aired it by the fire, and remarked that it had turned
very cold.
" Why," said Patty, " you have got your topcoat. Well,
you are a soft one."
" And you are a sharp one," said Henry, ironically.
When Jael came to the gig, Henry put the cloth over her
shoulders. " 'Twasn't for me, ye see," said he: " 'twas for
my betters."
"I like you for that," said Patty.
Then there was much kissing, and shaking of hands, and
promising to come again, and away they drove to Hillsborough.
On the road Henry, for the first time, was very respectful,
as well as kind, to Jael. She was soft and gentle, but rather
silent and reserved. They parted at the door of " Woodbine
Villa."
Next day, Henry called early, and found Miss Garden alone.
His -heart beat tumultuously. She was very gracious, and
hoped he had spent a pleasant day, yesterday.
"Prett'y well."
"Is that all?  Why I quite envied you your ride, and
your companion."
"She is a very good girl."
" She is something more than that: but one does not find
her out all at once."
Now it was Henry's turn. But he was flustered, and
thinking how he should begin. And, while he hesitated, the
lady asked him was he come to finish the bust.
"No. I didn't come for that. I will finish it, though."
And thus he was diverted from his purpose, for the moment.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.            125
He took a carving-tool, and eyed his model, but soon laid
lown the tool, and said: " I haven't thanked you yet. And I
don't know how" to thank you."
"What for?"
"For what you sent to Mr. Cheetham."
" Oh!" said Grace, and blushed. Then she turned it off,
and said she thought if anybody ought to thank her for that,
it was Mr. Cheetham.
" Ay, for the order. But the sweet words that came with
it? Do you think I don't prize them above all the orders in
the world?"
She coloured high again. "What! did he show you my
note? "
" He did: and that has made me his friend. Shall I tell
you the effect of those words on me? "
"No; never mind. But I'm glad I put them in, if they
did you any good."
"Any good? They made me a new man. I was defeated
by the Trades: I was broken-hearted: and I hated everybody.
Good Doctor Amboyne had set me work to do; to save the
lives of my fellow-creatures. But I couldn't; I hated them
so. The world had been too unjust to me, I could not return
it good for evil. My heart was full of rage and bitterness."
" That's a great pity-at your age. But really it is no
wonder. Yes; you have been cruelly used."  And the water
stood in Grace's eyes.
" Ay, but it is all over; those sweet words of yours made
a man of me again. They showed me you cared a little for
me. Now I have found a way to outwit the Trades. Now I'm
on the road to fortune. I won't be a workman this time next
year. I'll be a master, and a thriving one."
"Ay, do, do. Beat them, defeat them; make them scream
with envy. But I am afraid you are too sanguine."
"' No; I can do it, if you will only give me another
word of hope to keep me going: and oh, I need it, if you
knew all."
Grace began to look uneasy. " Mr. Little, can you doubt
that you have my best wishes?" said she, guardedly, and
much less warmly than she had spoken just before.
"No, I don't doubt that; but what I fear is, that when I
have gained the hard battle, and risen in the world, it will be
too late. Too kb. -'
Craoe trurn d JorC md onr:  an-juErtdlo,



126           PUT YOURSELF IN H11S PLACE
" Oh, pray wait a few months, and see what I can io,
before you-  -"
Will it be believed that Mr. Carden, who eeldom came into
this room at all, must walk in, just at this moment, and
interrupt them? He was too occupied with his own affairs,
to pay much attention to their faces, or perhaps he might have
asked himself why the young man was so pale, and his
daughter so red.
"I heard you were here, Little, and I want to speak to you
on a matter of some importance."
Grace took this opportunity, and made her escape from the
room promptly.
Henry, burning inwardly, had to listen politely to a matter
he thought pitiably unimportant compared with that, which had
been broken off. But the " Gosshawk" had got him in its
clutches; and was resolved to make him a decoy duck. He
was to open a new vein of Insurances. Workmen had, hitherto,
acted with great folly and imprudence in this respect, and he
was to cure them, by precept as well as example.
Henry assented, to gratify a person, whose goodwill he
might require, and to get rid of a bore. But that was not so
easy; the "Gosshawk" was full of this new project, and had
a great deal to say, before he came to the point, and offered
Henry a percentage on the yearly premium of every workman,
that should be insured in the " Gosshawk."
This little bargain struck, Henry was left alone; and
waited for the return of Miss Carden.
He was simple enough to hope she would come back, and
have it out with him.
She kept carefully out of his way, and, at last, he went
sadly home.
" Ah," said he, "Jael gave me bad advice. I have been
premature, and frightened her."
He would go to work his own way again.
In forty-eight hours he moved into his new house, furnished
it partly: bought a quantity of mediocre wood-carving, and
improved it; put specimens in his window, and painted his
name over the door. This, at his mother's request and tearful
entreaties, he painted out again, and substituted "I owbotham."
Nor was Rowbotham a mere nom de plume. It was the
real name of Silly Billy. The boy had some turn for carving,
but was quite uncultivated: Henry took him into his employ,
fed him, and made free with his name.    With all this he



PUT YOtRSELF IN HIS PLACE.

127

found time to get a key made to fit the lock of Cairnhope
old church.
At one o'clock on Thursday morning he came to Cheetham's
works, and scratched at the gate. A big workman opened it.
It turned out to be Cbeetham himself, in a moleskin suit, and
a long beard.
The forge on wheels was all ready, also a cart containing
anvil, bellows, hammers, pincers, leathern buckets, and a
quantity of steel laths. They attached the forge to the tail of
the cart, and went on their silent expedition. Cheetham drove
the cart. Henry followed afar off until they had cleared the
suburbs.
They passed " Woodbine Villa."    A  single light was
burning. Henry eyed it wistfully, and loitered long to look at
it. Something told him that light was in her bedroom. He
could hardly tear himself away from contemplating it: it was
his pole-star.
There was only one great difficulty in their way; a man on
a horbe might cross the moor, but a cart must go by " Raby
Hall" to reach the church: and, before they got within a
furlong of the Hall, a watch-dog began to bark.
'* Stop, sir," whispered Henry. " I expected this."  He
then produced some pieces of thick felt, and tied them with
strings round the wheels.
They then drove by the house as fast as they could. They
did not deceive the dogs; but no man heard them, nor saw
them.
They got to the church, opened the door, and drew the
forge into the deserted building.
As soon as they got inside, Cheetham cast his eyes round
and gave a shudder. " You must have a stout heart: no
money should tempt me to work here by myself. Lord I
What's that? "
For a low musical moan was heard.
Cheetham darted back, and got to the church-door.
Henry's heart beat faster: but he lighted his lantern, and
went up the aisle, The place was solemn, grim, gaunt, and
mouldering, and echoed strangely; but it was empty. He
halloed to his companion that it was all right. Then they set
the forge up near a pillar at the entrance into the chancel.
When they had done this, and brought in the steel laths, the
sacks of coals, &c., Cheetham produced a flask, and took a
pull of neat brandy. This gave him courage, and he proposed



128          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
to have a look round before they went. Accordingly they
inspected the building.
When they came round to the chancel, suddenly there war
a rattle, and a tremendous rush of some huge thing that made
a cold wind, and blew out the light.
Henry was appalled, and Cheetham dropped the lantern,
and ran, yelling. And soon Henry heard his voice in the
churchyard calling on him to come out.
He did go out, and felt very much puzzled and alarmed.
However, he got matches from Cheetham, and went back, and
lighted the lantern, quaking a little, and then he found that the
great mouldering picture over the altar had rotted away from
some of its supports, and one-half of it was now drooping,
like a monstrous wing, over the altar.
He returned with the lantern, and told Cheetham what it
was. Then he screwed on the lock, locked the church, and
they went back to Hillsborough in good spirits.
But, as he lay in bed, Henry thought the matter over, and,
for the first time in his life, felt superstitious.
" It is very odd," he said, "that an old picture my forefathers have worshipped under, and prayed to no doubt, should
flap out in my face, the moment I offered to set up my forge
among their dead bones."
Daylight dispersed these superstitious feelings, and the
battle began.
As usual, the first step towards making money, was to part
with it. He could do nothing without a horse and a light
cart. In Hillsborough they drive magnificent horses in public
cabs: Henry knew one in particular, that had often spun up
the steepest hills with him; a brute of prodigious bone and
spirit. He bought this animal for a moderate price, considering his value; and then the next thing was-and indeed
with some of us it precedes the purchase of the animal-to
learn to ride.
He had only two days to acquire this accomplishment in;
so he took a compendious method. He went to the circus, at
noon, and asked to see the clown. A gloomy fellow was fished
out of the nearest public, and inquired what he wanted.
" The clown."
" Well, I am the clown."
" What! you the merry -hap that makes the fun? " said
Henry, incrcdulouly.
I In ake the fin at nig0ht,  replied the man dolefully.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

129

' If you want fun out of me, come and pay your shilling like
a man."
"But it isn't fun I've come for. I want to learn to ride."
" Then you are too old. Why, we begin as soon as we
can stand on a horse's back."
" Oh, I don't mean to ride standing. I want to sit a horse,
rearing, or plunging, or blundering over rough ground."
" What will you stand? "
" A sovereign."
The clown dived into the public-house, and told a dark
seedy man, with his black hair plastered and rolled effeminately,
that he had got a bloke who would stand a quid for a mount.
The two came out, and the plastered Italian went to the stables:
the melancholy punster conducted Henry into the arena, and
stood beside him, like Patience on a monument. Presently a
quiet mare ran in, and stuck.
Henry was mounted, and cantered her round, the two men
instinctively following in a smaller circle, with jaws as long as
your arm.
" This is delightful," said Henry; " but I might as well
be sitting in a chair. What I want is a Prancer."
Then they brought him another horse, just as docile as the
mare. The obedient creature, at a signal, reared suddenly,
and seated Mr. Little on the sawdust behind him. A similar
result was attained several times, by various means. But Henry
showed himself so tough, courageous, and persistent, that he
made great progress, and his good humour won his preceptors.
They invited him to come to-morrow, at an earlier hour, and
bring half a quid with him. He did so, and this time there
was an American rider rehearsing, who showed Henry what to
do, and what not to do; and gave him a most humorous and
instructive lesson. Indeed, his imitations of bad riding were
so truthful and funny, that even the clown was surprised into
one laugh; he who rarely smiled, unless in the way of business.
" Well, sir," said Henry, "you have given me a good
lesson; now take a hint from me: just you go and do all this
before the public; for I never saw you do anything half as droll.'
They all three shook their heads with one accord. Go out
of the beaten track, before an audience?  Never.   Such
vagaries were only admissible in private.
After this second day, the fee was reduced to a gallon of ale.
But, on the third day, the pupil combined theory with practice. He told his mother he was going to Cairnhope for the



180           PUT YOURSELF' IN IIIS PLACE.
night. He then rode off to Cairnhope Church. He had two
large saddle-bags, containing provisions, and tools of all sorts.
He got safe across the moor just before sunset. He entered
the church, led the horse in with him, and put him into the
squire's pew. He then struck a light, went into the chancel,
qnd looked at the picture. It was as he had left it; half on
the wall, half drooping over the altar-place. The walls were
dank, and streaked here and there with green. His footsteps
echoed, and the edifice was all dark, except within the rays of
his lantern; it also sang and moaned in a way to be accounted
for by the action of the wind on a number of small apertures;
but, nevertheless, it was a most weird and ghostly sound. He
was glad of the companionship of his very horse.
He took his buckets to the mountain stream, and, in due
course, filled his trough, and left one bucket full for other uses.
He then prepared and lighted his forge. As he plied the bellows, and the coals gleamed brighter and brighter, monumental
figures came out and glared at him, mutilated inscriptions
wavered on the walls; portions of the dark walls themselves
gleamed in the full light, and showed the streaks and stains of
age and weather, and the shadow of a gigantic horse's head;
and, as the illuminated part seemed on fire by contrast, so the
dark part of the church was horribly black and mysterious, and
a place out of which a ghost or a phantom might be expected,
at any moment, to come forth into that brilliant patch of light.
Young Little, who had entered on this business in all the
scepticism of the nineteenth century, felt awed, and began to
wish he had selected any other building in the world but this.
He seemed to be desecrating a tomb.
However, he mustered up his manly resolution. He looked
up at a small aperture in the roof, and saw a star glittering
above; it seemed close, and a type of that omniscient eye
"fromn which no secrets are hid."
He clasped his hands together, and said, " I hope God,
who has seen me driven from the haunts of men, will forgive
me for taking refuge here; and, if he does, I don't care who
else is offended, alive or dead." And, with this, he drew a
white hot strip of steel from the forge on to the anvil, and down
came his hammer with a blow, that sent the fiery steel flying
all round, and rang and echoed through the desolate building.
Instantly there was a tremendous plunge and clatter, followed
by a shaking sound, and, whiz, the church was fanned by black
wings going zigzag.



PUOT TO1JlIMT, F IN I11S?tAC.1

131

'Ten thousand devils 1" yelled Henry, and heaved the
hammer high, in his own defence.
But it was only the horse plunging and quivering with fear,
and a score of bats the blow of the hammer had frightened out
of the rotten pulpit.
He resumed work with a beating heart, and the building
rang and echoed and re-echoed with the rapid blows; and no
more interruption came. The nineteenth century conquered.
After four hours of earnest work, he fed his horse, ate a.
slice of bread and meat, drank water from the bucket, gave his
horse some, and went to sleep in the pew beside that, useful
animal.
Back to Hillsborough, at peep of day, with the blades he
had forged.
He now took his mother, in a great measure, into his
confidence, under a strict promise to tell nobody, not even
Dr. Amboyne. Mrs. Little received the communication in a
way that both surprised and encouraged him. She was as
willing to outwit the Unions, as she was unwilling to resist
them openly; and Henry found her an admirable coadjutor.
Had she known where Henry had set up his forge, she
would have been very unhappy. But he merely told her it was
in a secluded place, near Cairnhope, where he could never be
detected.
The carving business, being merely a blind, was not pushed.
But Henry gave his apprentice, Billy, instruction, and the
youth began to show an aptitude, which contrasted remarkably
with his general incapacity.
Mrs. Little paid one or two visits to factories, to see what
women could do in this sort of work; and, one day, she told
Henry she was sure she could sharpen and finish the blades.
"No, mother," said Henry. " You are a lady. I can't have
you made a slave of, and your beautiful white hands spoiled."
"I shall be happier, helping you, dear; and I won't spoil
my hands, since you care about them."
She insisted on a trial, and soon:cquired a remarkable
knack; she had a fine light hand: and it is an art easily
learned by an attentive and careful woman. Indeed, they can
beat the men at it, if they will only make up their minds.
And so the enterprise was launched, and conducted thus:
in the daytime, Henry showed himself in the town, and talked
big about carving; and, in the afternoon, he rode out, and did
the real work of his life, over the dead bodies of his ancestors
x2



0 2          PUT YO URSELF IN HIS PLACE.
His saddle-bags were always full, and, gradually, he collected some comforts about him in the deserted church.
He called, more than once, at " Woodbine Villa," but Miss
Carden was on a visit.
He was in the full career of fortune again, and, sanguine
of success, before they met. One day, having ascertained from
Jael, what day she would be at home, he called, and was
admitted. The room was empty, but Miss Carden soon came
into it, accompanied by Jael, carrying the bust.
"Ah, Mr. Little," said she, before he could possibly utter
a word, " this is fortunate. There is a party here on Thursday, and I want to show the bust complete, if you don't mind."
Henry said he would finish it for her. He accordingly set
to work, and waited quietly till Jael should leave the room, to
have it out with Grace.
She, for her part, seemed to have forgotten his strange
manner to her the other day; perhaps she chose to forget it,
or overlook it.  But Henry observed that Jael was not
allowed to quit the room. Whatever Miss Carden wanted she
fetched herself, and came back softly, and rather suddenly, as
if she had a mind to surprise Jael and the other too. Female
subtlety was clearly at work.
"What do you advise me? " said Henry to Jael, during
one of these intervals.
Jael never lifted her eyes from her work, and spoke under
her breath, "I think I'd be patient to-day. She must give
you a chance to speak some day. Talk to me, when she comes
back-about the Cairnhope folk, or anything."
Henry followed this advice, and Grace, for the first time,
found herself a little ignored in the conversation. She was
astonished at this, and I don't think she quite liked it.
Henry was still going on with warmth and volubility about
the Cairnhope folk, their good hearts, and their superstitions,
when a visitor was announced.
" Mr. Coventry."
Henry stopped in the middle of a sentence.
Grace brightened up, and said she was at home.
Mr. Coventry entered the room; a tall, well-made man
with an aquiline nose, and handsome face, only perhaps there
were more lines in it than he was entitled to at his age, for he
was barely thirty. He greeted Miss Carden with easy grace,
and took no more notice of the other two than if they were
chairs and tables.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

188

Mr. Frederick Coventry had studied the great art of
pleasing, and had mastered it wonderfully; but he was not
the man to waste it indiscriminately. He was there to please
a young lady, to whom he was attached, not to diffuse his
sunshine indiscriminately.
He courted her openly, not indelicately, but with a happy
air of respect and self-assurance.
Henry sat, sick with jealousy, and tried to work and
watch; but he could only watch: his hand trembled too
much to work.
What may be called oblique flattery is very pleasing to
those quick-witted girls, who have had a surfeit of direct compliments: and it is oblique flattery, when a man is supercilious
and distant to others, as well as tender and a little obsequious
to her he would please.
Grace Carden enjoyed this oblique flattery of Mr. Coventry's, all the more that it came to her just at a moment, when
her companions seemed disposed to ignore her. She rewarded
Mr. Coventry accordingly, and made Henry Little's heart die
within him. His agony became intolerable. What a position
was his! Set there, with a chisel in his hand, to copy the
woman he loved, while another man wooed her before his face,
and she smiled at his wooing.
At last his chisel fell out of his hand, and startled everybody: and then he rose up with a pale cheek, and glittering
eyes, and heaven only knows what he was going to do or say.
But at that moment another visitor was announced, to whom
indeed the door was never closed. He entered the next
moment, and Grace ran to meet him, crying, " Oh, Mr.
Raby! this is a surprise."
Mr. Raby kissed her, and shook hands with Mr. Coventry.
lie then said a kind word to Jael Dence, who got up and
curtsied to him. He cast a careless glance on Henry and the
bust, but said nothing. He was in a hurry, and soon came to
the object of his visit.
" My dear," said he, " the last time I saw you, you said
you were sorry that Christmas was no longer kept in Hillsborough as it used to be."
"And so I am."
" Well, it is kept in Cairnhope, thank heaven, pretty much
as it was three centuries ago. Your father will be in London,
I hear; will you honour my place and me with a visit during
the Christmas holidays? "



14A          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Grace opened her eyes with astonishment. " Oh, that I
will," said she, warmly.
" You will take your chance of being snowed up? "
( I am afraid I shall not be so fortunate," was the charming
reply.
The Squire turned to Coventry, and said slily, " I would
asl you to join us, sir; but it is rather a dull place for a
gentleman who keeps such good company."
"I never heard it spoken of as a dull place before," said
the young man; " and, if it was, you have taken a sure means
to make it attractive."
" That is true. Well, then, I have no scruple in asking
you to join us; " and he gave Grace a look, as much as to say,
" Am I not a considerate person? "
" I am infinitely obliged to you, Mr. Raby," said Coventry,
seriously; "I will come."
" You will stay to luncheon, godpapa? "
" Never touch it. Good-by. Well, then, Christmas-eve I
shall expect you both. Dinner at six. But come an hour or
two before, if you can: and, Jael, my girl, you know you must
dine at the Hall on Christmas-eve, and old Christmas-eve as
usual, you and your sister and the old man."
Jael curtsied, and said with homely cordiality, " We shall
be there, sir, please God we are alive."
" Bring your gun, Coventry. There's a good sprinkling of
pheasants left. By-the-by, what about that pedigree of yours;
does it prove the point? "
" Completely.  Dorothy Raby, Sir Richard's youngest
sister, married Thomas Coventry, who was out in the forty-five.
I'm having the pedigree copied for you, at a stationer's near."
' I should like to see it."
"I'll go with you, and show it to you, if you like."
Mr. Raby was evidently pleased at this attention, and they
went off together.
Grace accompanied them to the door. On her return she
was startled by the condition of young Little.
This sudden appearance of his uncle, whom he hated, had
agitated him not a little, and that uncle's interference had
blasted his last hope. He recognized this lover, and had
sided with him: was going to shut the pair up, in a countryhouse, together. It was too much. He groaned, and sank
back in his chair, almost fainting, and his hands began to
shake in the air, as if he was in an ague,



PUT YOURSELF IN IIS PLACE.

136

Both the women darted simultaneously towards him.
SOh! he's fainting! " cried Grace. " Wine! wine! Fly."
Jael ran out to fetch some, in spite of a despairing gesture, by
which the young man tried to convey to her it was no use.,
" Wine can do me no good, nor death no harm..Why did
I ever enter this house? "
" Oh, Mr. Little, don't look so; don't talk so," said
Grace, turning pale, in her turn. " Are you ill?  What is
the matter? "
" Oh, nothing. What should ail me?   I'm only a workman. What business have I with a heart? I loved you dearly.
I was working for you, fighting for you, thinking for you, living
for you. And you love that Coventry, and never showed it."
Jael came in with a glass of wine for him, but he waved
her off with all the grandeur of despair.
"You tell me this to my face I" said Grace, haughtily;
but her bosom panted.
" Yes; I tell you so to your face. I love you, with all my
soul."
" How dare you?  What have I ever done, to justifyOh, if you weren't so pale, I'd give you a lesson. What could
possess you?  It's not my fault, thank heaven. You have
insulted me, sir. No; why should I?  You must be unhappy
enough. There, I'll say but one word, and that, of course, is
' good morning.' "
And she marched out of the room, trembling secretly in
every limb.
Henry sat down, and hid his face, and all his frame shook.
Then Jael was all pity. She threw herself on her knees,
and kissed his trembling hands with canine fidelity, and wept
on his shoulder.
He took her hand, and tried hard to thank her, but the
words were choked.
Grace Carden opened the door, and put her head cautiously
in, for she wanted to say a word to Jael without attracting
Henry's attention. But, when she saw Jael and Henry in so
loving an attitude, she started, and then turned as red as fire;
and presently burst out laughing.
Jael and Henry separated directly.
Grace laughed again, an unpleasant laugh. " I beg pardon,
good people. I only wanted Mr. Little's address. I thought
you could get it for me, Jael, And.now I'm sure you can.
Ha! ha! ha! "



0l6          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
And she was heard laughing after the door close&
Now there was a world of contempt and insolence in this
laugh. It conveyed, as plainly as words, " I was going to be
so absurd as to believe in your love, and pity it, at all events,
though I can't approve it: but now you have just set my mind
at ease. Ha! ha! ha! "
"Let me go," cried Henry, wildly.
"Nay, tell me your address."
"What for?  To tell that cruel-laughing -"
"Nay then, for myself."
"That's a different thing. I respect you. But her, I
mean to hate, as much as I loved her."
He gave Jael his address, and then got out of the house
as fast as he could.
That evening Grace Garden surprised her father by coming
into his study. "Papa," said she, "I am come to ask a
favour. You must not refuse me. But I don't know that you
ever did. Dearest, I want 501."
" Well, my child; just tell me what it is for."
" It is for Mr. Little; for his lessons."
" Well, but 501.! "
" He has given me a good many. And to tell you the
truth, papa, I dismissed him rather unceremoniously; and
now I should be glad to soften the blow a little, if I can. Do
be very good and obedient, dear papa, and write what I shall
dictate. Please/"
" Well, spoiled child: who can resist you? "
Then Grace dictated, and Mr. Garden wrote:"' DEAR SIR,-My daughter informs me that, as yet, you have
received no remuneration for the lessons you have given her.
I beg your acceptance of the enclosed cheque, and, at the same
time, should be glad if you would put a price on the admirable
bust you have executed of her. Yours obediently,
" WALTER CARDEN."
The reply to this letter surprised Mr. Garden so, that he
brought it to Grace, and showed it her.
" DAR SIR,-The lessons are not worth speaking of. I have
learnt more in your house than I taught. I beg to return the
obeque with thanks. Price of the bust, five hundred guineas.
"Yours obediently,
"( HENRY LITTIm."



PUT YOURSELF IN    rIS PLACE.          137
Grace coloured up, and her eyes sparkled. " That young
man wants humbling."
" I don't see that, really. He is very civil, and I presume
this five hundred guineas is just a polite way of saying that he
means to keep it. Wants it for an advertisement, eh  "
Grace smiled and bit her lip. " Oh, what a man of business you are! " And a little while after the tears came into
her eyes. " Madman! " said she to herself. " He won't let
me be his friend. Well, I can't help it."
After the brief excitement of this correspondence, Little
soon relapsed into dull misery. His mother was alarmed, and
could restrain herself no longer. She implored his confidence:
&" Make me the partner of your grief, dear," she said; " not
that you can tell me anything I have not guessed already; but,
dearest, it will do you good to open your heart; and, who
knows, I may assist you. I know my sex much better than
you do."
Henry kissed her sadly, and said it was too late now. "It
is all over. She is going to marry another man."
" Has she told you so?"
" Not in words; but I have seen it. She has burnt it into
my heart."
" I wish I knew her," said Mrs. Little, very earnestly, and
almost in a whisper.
" Some day, mother, some day; but not now. Oh, the
tortures one heart can suffer, and yet not break."
Mrs. Little sighed. "What, not even tell me her name?"
" I can't, I can't. Oh, mother, you mean well, but you
will drive me mad."
Mrs. Little forbore to press him farther just then. She
sat silent at her work, and he at his, till they were aroused by
a fly drawing up at the door.
A fine young woman got out, with something heavy, and
holding it like a child on one arm, rapped at the door with the
hand that was disengaged.
Mrs. Little opened the door to her, and she and Jael Dence
surveyed each other with calm but searching eyes.
" If you please, ma'am, does Mr. Little bide here? "
Mrs. Little said yes, with a smile; for Jael's face and
modesty pleased her at first sight.
" I have something for him."
" I'll give it to him."
" If you please, ma'am, I was tc give it him myself."



188          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Henry recognized the voice, opened the door of his zoom,
and invited her in.
Mrs. Little followed her, full of suppressed curiosity.
This put Jael out, but she was too patient to show it.
" It is the bust," said she; and put it softly down on the
table with her strong arms.
Henry groaned. " She despises even that; she flings it
at my head without a word."
" Nay; I have got a note for you."
" Then why didn't you give it me at once?" cried Henry
impatiently.
She handed him the note without a word.
It ran thus:1" Miss Carden presents her compliments to Mr. Little,
and sends him his beautiful bust. She is grieved that he will
accept no remuneration for his lessons; and begs permission
to offer her best wishes for his happiness and prosperity."
The gentleness of this disarmed Henry, and at the same
time the firmness crushed him. "It is all over!" he cried,
despairingly: " and yet I can't hate her."
He ran from the room, unable to restrain his tears, and
too proud and fiery to endure two spectators of his grief.
Mrs. Little felt, as mothers feel towards those who wound
their young.
"Is it the woman's likeness? " said she bitterly, and then
trembled with emotion.
"Ay."
" May I see it? "
" Surely, ma'am." And Jael began to undo the paper.
But Mrs. Little stopped her. " No, not yet. I couldn't
bear the sight of a face that has brought misery upon him. I
would rather look at yours. It is a very honest one. May I
inquire your name? "
"Jael Dence-at your service."
"Dence! ah, then no wonder you have a good face: a
Cairnhope face. My child, you remind me of days gone by.
Come and see me again, will you? Then I shall be more
able to talk to you quietly."
" Ay, that I will, ma'am." And Jael coloured all over
with surprise, and such undisguised pleasure, that Mrs. Little
kissed her at parting.
She had been gone a considerable time, when Henry came



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

139

back; he found his mother seated at the table, eyeing his
masterpiece with stern and bitter scrutiny.
It was a picture, those two rare faces in such close opposition. The carved face seemed alive; but the living face
seemed inspired, and to explore the other to the bottom with
merciless severity.  At such work the great female eye is
almost terrible in its power.
"It is lovely," said she. "It seems noble. I cannot
find what I know must be there. Oh, why does God give
such a face as this to a fool?"
" Not a word against her," said Henry. " She is as wise,,
and as noble, and as good, as she is beautiful.  She has but
one fault; she loves another man. Put her sweet face away;
hide it from me till I am an old man, and can bring it out to
show young folks why I lived and will die a bachelor. Goodby, dear mother, I must saddle Black Harry, and away to my
night's work."
The days were very short now, and Henry spent twothirds of his time in Cairnhope Church. The joyous stimulus
of his labour was gone, but the habit remained, and carried
him on in a sort of leaden way.  Sometimes he wondered at
himself for the hardships he underwent merely to make money,
since money had no longer the same charm for him; but a
good workman is a patient enduring creature, and self-indulg.
ence, our habit, is, after ll, his exception. Henry worked
heavily on, with his sore, sad heart, as many a workman had
done before him. Unfortunately his sleep began to be broken
a good deal.  I am not quite clear whether it was the afterclap of the explosion, or the prolonged agitation of his young
heart, but at this time, instead of the profound sleep that
generally rewards the sons of toil, he had fitful slumbers, and
used to dream strange dreams, in that old church, so full of
gaunt sights and strange sounds.  And, generally speaking,,however these dreams began, the figure of Grace Carden would
steal in ere he awoke.  His senses, being only half asleep,
coloured his dreams: he heard her light footstep in the pattering rain, and her sweet voice in the musical moan of the
desolate building; desolate as his heart when he awoke, and
beheld it was a dream.
The day after Christmas-day began brightly, but was dark
and lowering towards afternoon.  Mrs. Little advised Henry
to stay at home. But he shook his head. " How could I



140          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
get through the night?  Work is my salvation. But for my
forge, I should perhaps end like --" he was going to say
" my poor father." But he had the sense to stop.
Unable to keep him at home, the tender mother got to his
saddle-bags, and filled his flask with brandy, and packed up a
huge piece of Yorkshire pie, and even stuffed in a plaid shawl.
And she strained her anxious eyes after him as he rode off.
When he got among the hills, he found it was snowing
there very hard; and then, somehow, notwithstanding all the
speed he made, it was nearly dark when he got on the moor,
and the tracks he used to go by, over the dangerous ground,
were effaced.
He went a snail's pace, and, at last, dismounted, and
groped his way. He got more than one fall in the snow, and
thought himself very fortunate when, at last, something black
towered before him, and it was the old church.
The scene was truly dismal: the church was already overburdened with snow, and still the huge flakes fell fast and
silently, and the little mountain stream, now swollen to a
broad and foaming torrent, went roaring by, behind the
churchyard wall.
Henry shivered, and made for the shelter.
The horse, to whom this church was merely a well-ventilated stable, went in and clattered up the aisle, saddle-bags
and all.
Henry locked the door inside, and soon blew the coals to
a white heat.  The bellows seemed to pant unnaturally loud,
all was so deadly still.
The windows were curtained with snow, that increased the
general gloom, though some of the layers shone ghostly white
and crystalline, in the light of the forge, and of two little grates
he had set in a monument.
Two heaps of snow lay in the centre aisle, just under two
open places in the roof, and, on these, flakes, as big as a pennypiece, kept falling through the air, and glittered like diamonds
as they passed through the weird light of the white coals.
Oh! it was an appalling place, that night; youth and life
seemed intruders. Henry found it more than he could bear.
He took a couple of candles, placed them in bottles, and carried
them to the western window, and there lighted them.  This
one window was protected by the remains of iron-work outside, and the whole figure of one female saint in coloured
glass survived.



PVT YOURSELP IN i11S PLACE.

141

This expedient broke the devilish blackness, and the saint
shone out glorious.
The horrid spell thus broken in some degree, Henry plied
his hammer, and made the church ring, and the flaming
metal fly.
But by-and-by, as often happened to him now, a drowsiness
overcame him at the wrong time.  In vain he battled against
it. It conquered him even as he worked; and, at last, he
leaned with his arms against the handle of the bellows, and
dozed as he stood.
He had a dream of that kind which we call a vision,
because the dream seems to come to the dreamer where he is.
He dreamed he was there at his forge, and a soft voice
called to him. He turned, and lo! between him and the
western window stood six female figures, all dressed in beautiful dresses, but of another age, and of many colours, yet
transparent; and their faces fair, but white as snow: and the
ladies curtsied to him with a certain respectful majesty beyond
description: and somehow, by their faces, and their way of
curtseying to him, he knew they were women of his own race,
and themselves aware of the relationship.
Then several more such figures came rustling softly through
the wall from the churchyard, and others rose from the vaults
and took their places quietly, till there was an avenue of dead
beauties; and they stood in an ascending line up to the west
window.   Some stood on the ground, some on the air; that
made no difference to them.
Another moment, and then a figure more lovely than them all
shone in the window, at the end of that vista of fair white faces.
It was Grace Carden.  She smiled on him and said, " I
am  going where I can love you.   There the world cannot
divide us. Follow me; follow; follow! "
Then she melted away; then all melted: and he awok3
with a loud cry that echoed through the edifice, now dark and
cold as the grave; and a great white owl went whirling, and
with his wings made the only air that stirred.
The fire was out, and the place a grave.  Yet, cold as it
xas, the dreamer was bathed in perspiration, so clear had been
that unearthly vision, so ghostly was now that flitting owl.
Shuddering all over he lighted his fire again, and plied hip
bellows with fury, till the fire glowed brighter than ever; and
even then he prayed aloud that he might never see the lie
again, even in a dream.



142          PUT VotalsELY IN IT1I PLcIa.
He worked like mad, and his hand trembled as he struck.
Ere he had thoroughly recovered the shock, a wild cry
arose outside.
He started back, awe-struck.
What with the time, the place, and that strange vision, the
boundaries of the natural and the super-natural were a little
confused in his mind.
" Help, help! " cried a voice; and now the familiar tone
of that voice made him utter a loud cry in return.
He searched for the key, and made his way to the door:
but, just as he began to insert the key, the voice was at the
door outside.
" Oh, save me! A dying girl! Save me "
The cry was now a moan, and the next moment an inert
mass fell like lead against the door in a vain attempt to knock
at it.
The voice was Grace Carden's, and it was Grace Carden's
body that fell so inert and powerless against the church-door,
within a yard of Henry Little's hand.
CHAPTER XI.
ON the twenty-fourth of December Miss Garden and Jael
Dence drove to Cairnhope village, and stopped at the farm:
but Nathan and his eldest daughter had already gone up to the
Hall; so they waited there but a minute or two to light the
carriage lamps, and then went on up the hill. It was pitch
dark when they reached the house. Inside, one of Mr. Raby's
servants was on the look-out for the sound of wheels, and the
visitors had no need to knock or ring; this was a point of
honour with the master of the mansion; when he did invite
people, the house opened its arms; even as they drove up,
open flew the great hall-door, and an enormous fire inside
blazed in their faces, and shot its flame beyond them out into
the night.
Grace alighted, and was about to enter the house, when
Jael stopped her, and said, "Oh, Miss, you will be going in
left foot foremost. Pray don't do that: it is so unlucky."
Grace laughed, but changed her foot, and entered a lofty
hall, hung with helmets, pikes, breast-plates, bows, cross-bowp,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

14

antlers, etc. etc. Opposite her was the ancient chimney piece
and ingle-nook, with no grate, but two huge iron dogs, set five
feet apart; and on them lay a birch log and root, the size of a
man, with a dozen beech billets burning briskly and crackling
underneath and aside it. This genial furnace warmed the
staircase and passages, and cast a fiery glow out on the
carriage, and glorified the steel helmets and breastplates of
the dead Rabies on the walls, and the sparkling eyes of the
two beautiful women who now stood opposite it in the pride of
their youth, and were warmed to the heart by its crackle and
glow. " Oh! what a glorious fire, this bitter night. Why, I
never saw such a-"
"It is the Yule log, Miss. Ay, and you might go all round
England, and not find its fellow, I trow. But our Squire he
don't go to the chandler's shop for his yule log, but to his own
woods, and fells a great tree."
A housemaid now came forward with bed-candles, to show
Miss Carden to her room. Grace was going up as a matter of
course, when Jael, busy helping the footman with her boxes,
called after her: " The stocking, Miss! the stocking!"
Grace looked down at her feet in surprise.
" There it is, hung up by the door. We must put our
presents into it before we go upstairs."
" Must we? what on earth am I to give?"
" Oh, anything will do. See, I shall put in this crooked
sixpence."
Grace examined her purse, and complained that her stupid
sixpences were all straight.
"Never mind, Miss; put in a hair-pin, sooner than pass
the stocking o' Christmas-eve."
Grace had come prepared to encounter old customs. She
offered her shawl-pin: and Jael, who had modestly inserted her
own gift, pinned Grace's offering on the outside of the stocking
with a flush of pride. Then they went upstairs with the
servant, and Grace was ushered into a bedroom of vast size,
with two fires burning at each end; each fireplace was flanked
with a coal-scuttle full of kennel coal in large lumps, and
also with an enormous basket of beech billets. She admired
the old-fashioned furniture, and said, " Oh, what a palace of a
bedroom! This will spoil me for my little poky room. Here
one can roam about and have great thoughts. Hillsborough,
good-by! I end my days in the country."
Presently her quick ear caught the rattle of swift wheels



144          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
upon the hard road: she ran to the window, and peeped behind
the curtain. Two brilliant lamps were in sight, and drew
nearer and nearer, like great goggling eyes, and soon a neat
dogcart came up to the door. Before it had well stopped, the
hospitable door flew open, and the yule fire shone on Mr.
Coventry, and his natty groom, and his dogcart with plated
axles; it illumined the silver harness, and the roan horse
himself, and the breath, that poured into the keen air from his
nostrils red inside.
Mr. Coventry dropped from his shoulders, with easy grace,
something between a coat and a cloak, lined throughout with
foxes' skins; and, alighting, left his groom to do the rest.
The fur was reddish, relieved with occasional white; and
Grace gloated over it, as it lay glowing in the fire-light.
" Ah! " said she, "I should never do for a poor man's wife:
I'm so fond of soft furs and things, and I don't like poky
rooms. With that she fell into a reverie, which was only interrupted by the arrival of Jael and her boxes.
Jael helped her unpack, and dress. There was no lack of
conversation between these two; but most of it turned upon
nothings. One topic, that might have been interesting to the
readers of this tale, was avoided by them both. They had now
come to a very high opinion of each other's penetration, and it
made them rather timid and reserved on that subject.
Grace was dressed, and just going down, when she found
she wanted a pin. She asked Jael for one.
Jael looked aghast. " Oh, Miss, I'd rather you would take
one, in spite of me."
" Well, so I will. There! "  And she whipped one away
from the bosom of Jael's dress.
" Mind I never gave it you."
" No. I took it by brute force."
" I like you too well to give you a pin.
" May I venture to inquire what would be the consequence? "
" Ill luck, you. may be sure. Heart trouble, they do say."
" Well, I'm glad to escape that so easily. Why, this is
the temple of superstition, and you are the High-Priestess.
How shall I ever get on at dinner, without you? I know I
shall do something to shock Mr. Raby. Perhaps spill the very
salt. I generally do."
S"Ay, Miss, at home. But, dear heart, you won't see any
of them nasty little salt-cellars here, that some crazy creature



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145

have invented to bring down bad luck. You won't spill the
salt here, no fear: but don't ye let anybody help you to it
neither. If he helps you to salt, he helps you to sorrow."
" Oh, does he?   Then it is fortunate nobody ever does
nelp anybody to salt. Well, yours is a nice creed; why, we
are all at the mercy of other people, according to you. Say I
have a rival; she smiles in my face, and says, ' My sweet
friend, accept this tribute of my esteem;' and gives me a
pinch of salt before I know where I am. I wither on the spot,
and she sails off with the prize. Or, if there is no salt about,
she comes behind me with a pin, and pins it to my skirt, and
that pierces my heart. Don't you see what abominable nonsense
i all is? "
The argument was cut short by the ringing of a tremendous bell. Grace gave the last, swift, searching, all-compro"ensive look of her sex, into the glass, and went down to the
drawing-room. There she found Mr. Raby, and Mr. Coventry,
who both greeted her cordially; and the next moment dinner
was announced.
" Raby Hall " was a square house, with two large low
wings. The left wing contained the kitchen, pantry, scullery,
bakehouse, brewhouse, &c.; the servants' bedrooms above.
The right wing the stables, coachhouses, cattle-sheds, and
several bedrooms. The main building the hall, the best bedrooms, and the double staircase, leading up to them in horseshoe form from the hall: and, behind the hall, on the groundfloor, there was a morning-room, in which several of the,
Squire's small tenants were even now preparing for supper by
drinking tea, and eating cakes made in rude imitation of the
infant Saviour. On the right of the hall were the two drawingrooms en suite, and on the left was the remarkable room, into
which the host now handed Miss Carden, and Mr. Coventry
followed.  This room had been, originally, the banquetinghall. It was about twenty feet high, twenty-eight feet wide,
and fifty feet long, and ended in an enormous bay window,
that opened upon the lawn. It was entirely panelled with oak,
tarved by old Flemish workmen, and adorned here and there
with bold devices.  The oak, having grown old in a pure
atmosphere, and in a district where wood and roots were generally burned in dining-rooms, had acquired a very rich and
beautiful colour, a pure and healthy reddish brown, with no
tinge whatever of black: a mighty different hue from any you
eFn find in Wardour Street. Plaster ceiling there was none,



146           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
and never had been. The original joists, and beams, and
boards, were still there, only not quite so rudely fashioned as
of old; for Mr. Raby's grandfather had caused them to be
planed and varnished, and gilded a little in serpentine lines.
This woodwork above gave nobility to the room, and its
gilding, though worn, relieved the eye agreeably.
The farther end was used as a study, and one side of it
graced with books, all handsomely bound: the other side, with
a very beautiful organ that had an oval mirror in the midst of
its gilt dummy pipes.   All this made a cosy nook in the
grand room.
What might be called the dining-room part, though rich,
was rather sombre, on ordinary occasions; but this night it
was decorated gloriously. The materials were simple-waxcandles and holly; the effect was produced by a magnificent
use of these materials. There were eighty candles, of the
largest size sold in shops, and twelve wax pillars, five feet
high, and the size of a man's calf; of these, four only were
lighted at present. The holly was not in sprigs, but in enormous branches, thai filled the eye with glistening green and
red: and in the embrasure of the front window stood a young
holly-tree, entire, eighteen feet high, and gorgeous with five
hundred branches of red berries. The tree had been dug up,
and planted here in an enormous bucket, used for that purpose, and filled with mould.
Close behind this tree were placed two of the wax pillars,
lighted, and their flame shone through the leaves and berries
magically.
As Miss Carden entered, on Mr. Raby's arm, her eye swept
the room with complacency, and settled on the holly-tree. At
sight of that, she pinched Mr. Raby's arm, and cried " Oh! "
three times. Then, ignoring the dinner-table altogether, she
pulled her host away to the tree, and stood before it, with
clasped hands. " Oh, how beautiful! "
Mr. Raby was gratified. " So then our forefathers were
not quite such fools as some people say."
" They were angels, they were ducks. It is beautiful, it
is divine."
Mr. Raby looked at the glowing cheek, and deep, sparkling, sapphire eye.  " Come," said he; "after all there's
nothing hero so beautiful as the young lady, who now honours
h-ba place with her presence."
With this he handed her ceremoniously to a place at his



PUT YOURSELF IN H1IS I-LACE.

147

right hand; said a short grace, and sat down between his two
guests.
" But, Mr. Raby," said Grace, ruefully, " I'm with my
back to the holly-tree."
" You can ask Coventry to change places."
Mr. Coventry rose, and the change was effected.
" Well, it is your doing, Coventry. Now she'll overlook
you."
" All the better for me, perhaps.  I'm content: Miss
Carden will look at the holly, and I shall look at Miss Carden."
" Faute de mieux."
" C'est mechant."
" And I shall fine you both a bumper of champagne, for
going out of the English language."
"I shall take my punishment like a man."
" Then take mine as well. Champagne with me means
frenzy."
But, in the midst of the easy banter and jocose airy
nothings of the modern dining-room, an object attracted
Grace's eye.  It was a picture, with its face turned to the
wall, and some large letters on the back of the canvas.
This excited Grace's curiosity directly, and, whenever she
could without being observed, she peeped, and tried to read
the inscription; but, what with Mr. Raby's head, and a monster candle that stood before it, she could not decipher it
unobserved. She was inclined to ask Mr. Raby; but she was
very quick, and, observing that the other portraits were of his
family, she suspected at once that the original of this picture
had offended her host, and that it would be in bad taste, and
might be offensive, to question him. Still the subject took
possession of her.
At about eight o'clock a servant announced candles in the
drawing-room.
Upon this Mr. Raby rose, and, without giving her any
option on the matter, handed her to the door with obsolete
deference.
In the drawing-room she found a harpsichord, a spinet,
and a piano, all tuned expressly for her. This amused her, as
she had never seen either of the two older instruments in her
life. She played on them all three.
Mr. Baby had the doors thrown open to hear her.
She played some pretty little things from Mendelssohn,
Spohr, and Schubert.
L2



148

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

The gentlemen smoked and praised.
Then she found an old music-book, and played Handel's
overture to Otho, and the minuet.
The gentlemen left off praising directly, and came silently
into the room to hear the immortal melodist. But this is the
rule in Music; the lips praise the delicate gelatinous, the heart
beats in silence at the mighty melodious.
Tea and coffee came directly afterwards, and, ere they
were disposed of, a servant announced " The Wassailers."
" Well, let them come in," said Mr. Raby.
The school-children and young people of the village
trooped in, and made their obeisances, and sang the Christmas Carol,God rest you, merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay.
Then one of the party produced an image of the Virgin and
Child, and another offered comfits in a box; a third presented
the wassail cup, into which Raby immediately poured some
silver, and Coventry followed his example. Grace fumbled for
her purse, and, when she had found it, began to fumble in it
for her silver.
But Raby lost all patience, and said, " There, I give this
for the lady, and she'll pay me next Christmas."
The wassailers departed, and the Squire went to say a kind
word to his humbler guests.
Miss Carden took that opportunity to ask Mr. Coventry if
he had noticed the picture with its face to the wall. He said
he had.
" Do you know who it is?"
" No idea."
"Did you read the inscription?"
"No. But, if you are curious, I'll go back to the diningroom, and read it."
" I'm afraid he might be angry. There is no excuse for
going there now."
" Send me for your pocket-handkerchief."
" Please see whether I have left my pocket-handkerchief in
the dining-room, Mr. Coventry," said Grace, demurely.
Mr. Coventry smiled, and hurried away. But he soon came
back to say that the candles were all out, the windows open,
and the servants laying the cloth for supper.
" Oh, never mind, then," said Grace; " whea we go in to
supper I'll look myself."



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149

But a considerable time elapsed before supper, and Mr.
Coventry spent this time in making love rather ardently, and
Grace in defending herself rather feebly.
It was nearly eleven o'clock when Mr. Raby rejoined them,
and they all went in to supper. There were candles lighted on
the table, and a few here and there upon the walls; but the
room was very sombre: and Mr. Raby informed them this was
to remind them of the moral darkness, in which the world lay
before that great event they were about to celebrate.
He then helped each of them to a ladleful of frumety,
remarking at the same time, with a grim smile, that they were
not obliged to eat it; there would be a very different supper
after midnight.
Then a black-letter Bible was brought him, and he read it
all to himself at a side-table.
After an interval of silence so passed, there was a gentle
tap at the bay window. Mr. Raby went and threw it open,
and immediately a woman's voice, full, clear and ringing, sang
outside:The first Noel the angels did say,
Was to three poor shepherds, in fields ar they lay;
In fields where they were keeping their sheep,
On a cold winter's night that was so deep.
Chorus. Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.
The chorus also was sung outside.
During the chorus one of the doors opened, and Jael Denco
came in by it; and the treble singer, who was the blacksmith's
sister, came in at the window, and so the two women met in
the room, and sang the second verse in sweetest harmony.
These two did not sing like invalids, as their more refined
sisters too often do; from their broad chests, and healthy
lungs, and noble throats, and, above all, their musical hearts,
they poured out the harmony so clear and full, that every glass
in the room rang like a harp, and a bolt of ice seemed to shoot
down Grace Carden's back-bone; and, in the chorus, gentle
George's bass was like a diapason.
They looked up and saw a star
That shone in the East beyond them far.
And unto the earth it gave a great light,
And so it continued both day and night.
Chorus. Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.
As the Noel proceeded, some came in at the window, others



150           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
at the doors, and the lower part of the room began to fill with
singers and auditors.
The Noel ended; there was a silence, during which the
organ was opened, the bellows blown, and a number of servants
and others came into the room with little lighted tapers, and
stood, in a long row, awaiting a signal from the Squire.
He took out his watch, and, finding it was close on twelve
o'clock, directed the doors to be flung open, that he might
hear the great clock in the hall strike the quarters.
There was a solemn hush of expectation, that made the
sensitive heart of Grace Carden thrill with anticipation.
The clock struck the first quarter-dead silence; the
second-the third-dead silence.
But, at the fourth, and with the first stroke of midnight,
out burst the full organ and fifty voices, with the " Gloria in
excelsis Deo: " and, as that divine hymn surged on, the
lighters ran along the walls and lighted the eighty candles,
and, for the first time, the twelve waxen pillars, so that, as the
hymn concluded, the room was in a blaze, and it was Christmas
Day.
Instantly an enormous punch-bowl was brought to the host.
He put his lips to it, and said, " Friends, neighbours, I wish
you all a merry Christmas." Then there was a cheer that
made the whole house echo; and, by this time, the tears were
running down Grace Carden's cheeks.
She turned aside to hide her pious emotion, and found
herself right opposite the picture, with this inscription, large
and plain, in the blaze of light," GONE INTO TRADE."
If, in the middle of the pious harmony, that had stirred
her soul, some blaring trumpet had played a polka, in another
key, it could hardly have jarred more upon her devotional
frame, than did this earthy line, that glared out between two
gigantic Yule candles, just lighted in honour of Him, whose
mother was in trade when he was born.
She turned from it with deep repugnance, and seated herself in silence at the table.
Very early in the supper she made an excuse, and retired
to her room: and, as she went out, her last glance was at the
mysterious picture.
She saw it again next morning at breakfast-time; but, it
must be owned, with different eyes. It was no longer con


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151

trasted Nith a religious ceremony, and with the sentiments of
gratitude and humility proper to that great occasion, when we
commemorate His birth, whose mother had gone into trade.
The world, and society, whose child she was, seemed now to
speak with authority from the canvas, and to warn her how
vain and hopeless were certain regrets, which lay secretly, I
might say clandestinely, at her heart.
She revered her godfather, and it was no small nor irrelevant discovery to find that he had actually turned a picture in
disgrace to the wall, because its owner had descended to the
level, or probably not quite.to the level, of Henry Little.
Jael Dence came up from the farm on Christmas afternoon,
and almost the first word Grace spoke was to ask her if she
knew whose picture that was in the dining-room. This vague
description was enough for Jael.  She said she could not tell
for certain, but she had once heard her father say it was the
Squire's own sister; but, when she had pressed him on the
subject, the old man had rebuked her-told her not to meddle
too much with other folks' business. "And to be sure, Squire
has his reasons, no doubt," said Jael, rather drily.
" The reason that is written on the back?"
"Ay: and a very poor reason too, to my mind."
" You are not the best judge of that-excuse me for saying
so. Oh dear, I wish I could see it."
" Don't think of such a thing, Miss. You can't, however,
for it's padlocked down that way you could never loose it without being found out. No longer agone than last Yule-time
'twas only turned, and not fastened. But they say in the
kitchen, that one day last month Squire had them all up, and
said the picture had been tampered with while he was at Hillsboro'; and he scolded, and' had it strapped and padlocked
down as 'tis."
The reader can imagine the effect of these fresh revelations.
And a lover was at hand, of good birth, good manners, and
approved by her godfather. That lover saw her inclining
towards him, and omitted nothing to compliment and please
her. To be sure, that was no uphill work, for he loved her
better than he had ever loved a woman in his life, which was a
good deal to say, in his case.
They spent Christmas-day very happily together. Church
in the morning; then luncheon; then thick boots, a warmer
shawl, and a little walk all together; for Mr. Raby took a
middle course; since no positive engagement existed, he



15N          PUT YOtJRSELF IN HIS PLACEi
would not allow his fair guest to go about with Mr. Coventry
alone, and so be compromised, even in village eyes; but, on
the other hand, by stopping now and then to give an order, or
exchange a word, he gave Coventry many opportunities, and
that gentleman availed himself of them with his usual tact.
In the evening they sat round the great fire, and Mr. Raby
mulled and spiced red wine by a family receipt, in a large
silver saucepan; and they sipped the hot and generous
beverage, and told stories and legends, the custom of the house
on Christmas-night. Mr. Raby was an inexhaustible repertory
of ghost-stories and popular legends. But I select one that
was told by Mr. Coventry, and told with a certain easy grace
that gave it no little interest.
MR. COVENTRY'S TALE.
" When I was quite a child, there was a very old woman
living in our village, that used to frighten me with her goggle
eyes, and muttering. She passed for a witch, I think; and
when she died-I was eight years old then-old people put
their heads together, and told strange stories about her early
life. It seems that this Molly Slater was away in service at
Bollington, a village halfway between our place and Hillsborough, and her fellow-servants used to quiz her because she
had no sweetheart. At last, she told them to wait till next
Hillsboro' fair, and they should see. And, just before the
fair, she reminded them of their sneers, and said she should
not come home without a sweetheart, though she took the Evil
One himself. For all that, she did leave the fair alone. But,
as she trudged home in the dark, a man overtook her, and
made acquaintance with her. He was a pleasant fellow, and
told her his name was William Easton. Of coulse she could
not see his face very well, but he had a wonderfully sweet
voice. After that night, he used to court her, and sing to her,
but always in the dark. He never would face a candle, though
he was challenged to more than once. One night there was a
terrible noise heard-it is described as if a number of men were
threshing out corn upon the roof-and Molly Slater was found
wedged in between the bed and the wall, in a place where there
was scarcely room to put your hand. Several strong men tried
to extricate her by force; but both the bed and the woman's
body resisted so strangely that, at last, they thought it best to
send for the parson. He was a great scholar, and himself
under some suspicion of knowing more than it would be good



PUT YOJURSELF TN HIS PLACE.

158

for any less pious person to know. Well, the parson came,
and took a candle that was burning, and held it to the place
where poor Molly was imprisoned, and moaning; and they say
he turned pale, and shivered, for all his learning. I forge;
what he said or did next; but by-and-by there was a colloquy
in a whisper between him and some person unseen; and they
say that this unseen whisper was very sweet, and something
like the chords of a harp, only low   and very articulate.
The parson whispered, ' God gives a sinner time.' The sweet
voice answvered, ' He can afford to; he is the stronger.' Then
the parson adjured the unsoon one to wait a year and a day.
But he refused, still in the gentlest voice. Then the parson
said these words: ' By all we love and fear, by all you fear
and hate, I adjure you to loose her, or wait till next Christmas-eve.'
"'I suppose the Evil Spirit saw some trap in that proposal,
for he is said to have laughed most musically. He answered,
'By all I fear and hate, I'll loose her never; but, but I'll wait
for her-till the candle's burnt out;" and he chuckled most
musically again.
"'Then wait to all eternity,' the parson roared; and blew
the candle out directly, and held it, with his hands crossed
over it."
Grace Carden's eyes sparkled in the firelight. " Go on,"
she cried, excitedly.
" The girl was loosed easily enough after that; but she was
found to be in a swoon; and not the least bruised, though ten
villagers had been pulling at her one after another."
" And what became of her afterwards? "
" She lived to be ninety-six, and died in my time. I think
she had money left her. But she never married; and, when
she was old, she wandered about the lanes, muttering, and
frightening little boys, myself among the number. But now my
little story follows another actor of the tale."
" Oh, I'm so glad it is not over."
"No. The parson took the candle away, and it was never
seen again. But, somehow, it got wind that he had built it
into the wall of the church; perhaps he didn't say so, but was
only understood to say so. However, people used to look
round the church for the place. And now comes the most
remarkable thing of all; three years ago the present rector
repaired the floor of the chancel, intending to put down
encaustic tiles. Much to his surprise, the workmen found



154          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
plenty of old encaustic tiles: they had been interred as rubbish
at some period, when antiquity and beauty were less respected
than they are now, I suppose."
Mr. Raby broke in, " The Puritans. Barbarians! beasts!
It was just like them. Well, sir-? "
" When the rector found that, he excavated more than was
absolutely necessary for his purpose, and the deeper he went,
the more encaustic tiles. In one place they got down to the
foundation, and they found an oak chest fast in the rock,-a
sort of channel had been cut in the rock for this chest, or
rather box (for it was only about eighteen inches long), to lie
in. The master mason was there luckily, and would not move
it till the rector had seen it. He was sent for, but half the
parish was there before him; and he tells me there were three
theories firmly established, and proved, before he could finish
his breakfast and get to the spot. Theory of Wilder, the
village grocer: 'It is treasure hidden by them there sly old
monks.' Mr. Wilder is a miser, and is known to lay up
money. He is, I believe, the only man left in the North
country who can show you a hundred spade guineas."
Mr. Raby replied, energetically, " I respect him. Wilder
for ever. What was the next theory?"
" The skeleton of a child. I forget who propounded this;
but I believe it carried the majority. But the old sexton gave
it a blow. 'Nay, nay,' said he; 'them's the notions of
strangers. I was born here, and my father afore me. It will
be Molly Slater's candle, and nought else.' Then poor Molly's
whole story came up again over the suspected box. But I am
very tedious."
" Tedious! You are delightful, and thrilling, and pray go
on. The rector had the box opened? "
"On the spot."
"Well?"
" The box went to pieces, in spite of all their care. But
there was no doubt as to its contents."
Grace exclaimed, enthusiastically, "( A candle. Oh, do say
a candle! "
Mr. Coventry responded, " It's awfully tempting; but I
suspect the traditional part of my story is slightly embellished:
so the historical part must be accurate. What the box did
really contain, to my knowledge, was a rush-wick, much thicker
than they are made now-a-days; and this rush-wick was impregnated with grease, and even lightly coated with a sort of



r'VT YOUTRSELF IN HIS PLACE.

156

browa wafer- like paste. The rector thinks it was a combination
of fine dust from the box with the original grease. He shall
show it you, if you are curious to see it."
" Of course we are curious. Oh, Mr. Raby, what a strange
story. And how well he told it."
" Admirably. -We must drink his health."
" I'll wish it him instead, because I require all my reason
just now to understand his story. And I don't understand it,
after all. There; you found the candle, and so it is all true.
But what does the rector think? "
1" Well, he says there is no connection whatever between
the rush-wick and --  "
"Don't tell her what he says," cried Raby, with a sudden
fury that made Grace start and open her eyes. " I know the
puppy. He is what is called a divine now-a-days; but used
to be called a sceptic. There never was so infidel an age.
Socinus was content to prove Jesus Christ a man; but Renan
has gone and proved him a Frenchman. Nothing is so gullible
as an unbeliever. The right reverend father in God, Cocker,
has gnawed away the Old Testament; the Oxford doctors are
nibbling away the New; nothing escapes but the Apocrypha:
yet these same sceptics believe the impudent lies, and monstrous
arithmetic, of geology, which babbles about a million years, a
period actually beyond the comprehension of the human intellect; and takes up a jaw-bone, that some sly navvy has transplanted overnight from the churchyard into the Lord knows
what stratum, fees the navvy, gloats over the bone, and knocks
the Bible down with it. No, Mr. Coventry, your story is a
good one, and well told; don't'let us defile it with the comments
of a sceptical credulous pedant. Fill your glass, sir. Here's
to old religion, old stories, old songs, old houses, old wines,
old friends, or" (recovering himself with admirable grace) "to
new friends that are to be old ones ere we die. Come, let the
stronger vessel drink, and the weaker vessel sip, and all say
together, after me,Well may we all be,
Ill may we never see,
That make good company
Beneath the roof of llaby."
When this rude rhyme had been repeated in chorus, there
was a little silence, and the conversation took a somewhat
deeper tone. It began through Grace asking Mr, Raby, with
all the simplicity of youth, whether he had ever seen anything



156          PUT YOURSELF IN H111 PLACE.
supernatural with his own eyes. " For instance," said she,
"this deserted church of yours, that you say the shepherd said
he saw on fire-did you see that? "
"Not I. Indeed, the church is not in sight from here.
No, Grace, I never saw anything supernatural: and I am sorry
for it, for I laugh at people's notion that a dead man has any
power to injure the living; how can a cold wind come from a
disembodied spirit?  I am all that a ghost is, and something
more; and I only wish I could call the dead from their graves;
I'd soon have a dozen gentlemen and ladies out of that cld
churchyard into this very room. And, if they would only come,
you would see me converse with them as civilly and as calmly
as I am doing with you. The fact is, I have some questions
to put, which only the dead can answer-passages in the family
correspondence, referring to things I can't make out for the
life of me."
" Oh, Mr. Raby, pray don't talk in this dreadful way, for
fear they should be angry and come." And Grace looked fearfully round over her shoulder.
Mr. Raby shook his head; and there was a dead silence.
Mr. Raby broke it rather unexpectedly. "But," said he,
gravely, " if I have seen nothing, I've heard something.
Whether it was supernatural, I can't say; but, at least, it was
unaccountable and terrible.  I have heard THE GABRIEI.
HOUNDS."
Mr. Coventry and Grace looked at one another, and then
inquired, almost in a breath, what the Gabriel hounds were.
"A strange thing in the air, that is said, in these parts, to
foretell calamity."
" Oh dear! " said Grace, " this is thrilling again; pray
tell us."
" Well, one night I was at Hillsborough on business, and
as I walked by the old parish church, a great pack of beagles,
in full cry, passed close over my head."
"Oh!"
"Yes; they startled me, as I never was startled in my life
before. I had never heard of the Gabriel hounds then, and I
was stupefied. I think I leaned against the wall there full five
minutes, before I recovered myself, and went on."
" Oh dear! But did anything come of it? "
"You shall judge for yourself. I had left a certain house
about an hour and a half: there was trouble in that house, but
only of a pecuniary kind. To tell the truth, I came back with



IUT YOURSELF IN HEIS PLACE.           157
some money for them, or rather, I should say, with the promise
of it. I found the wife in a swoon: and, upstairs, her husband
lay dead by his own hand."
" Oh, my poor Godpapa 1 " cried Grace, flinging her arm
tenderly round his neck.
" Ay, my child, and the trouble did not end there. Insult
followed; ingratitude; and a family feud, which is not healed
yet, and never will be-till she and her brat come on their
knees to me."
Mr. Raby had no sooner uttered these last words with great
heat, than he was angry with himself. " Ah! " said he, "the
older a man gets, the weaker. To think of my mentioning
that to you young people! " And he rose and walked about
the room in considerable agitation and vexation. " Curse the
Gabriel hounds! It is the first time I have spoken of them
4ince that awful night; it is the last time I ever will speak of
them. What they are, God, who made them, knows. Only I
pray I may never hear them again, nor any friend of mine."
Next morning Jael Ience came up to the Hall, and almost
the first question Grace asked her was, whether she had ever
heard of the Gabriel hounds.
Jael looked rather puzzled. Grace described them after
Mr. Raby.
" Why, that will be Gabble Retchet," said Jael.  " I
wouldn't talk much about the like, if I was you, Miss."
But Grace persisted, and, at last, extracted from her that
sounds had repeatedly been heard in the air at night, as of a
pack of hounds in full cry, and that these hounds ran before
Trouble. "But," said Jael, solemnly, " they are not hounds
at all; they are the souls of unbaptized children, wandering
in the air till the day of judgment."
This description, however probable, had the effect of making
Grace disbelieve the phenomenon altogether, and she showed
her incredulity by humming a little air.
But Jael soon stopped that. " Oh, Miss, pray don't do so.
If you sing before breakfast, you'll cry before supper."
At breakfast, Mr. Coventry invited Miss Carden to go to
the top of Cairnhope Peak, and look over four counties. He
also told her she could see Bollinghope House, his own place,
very well from the Peak.
Grace assented; and, immediately after breakfast, begged
Jael to be in the way to accompany her. She divined, with
feminine quickness, that Mr. Coventry would be very apt, if he



16J          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
pointed out Bollinghope House to her from the top of a mountain,
to say, " Will you be its mistress? " but, possibly, she did not
wish to be hurried, or it may have been only a mere instinct,
an irrational impulse of self-defence, with which the judgment
had nothing to do; or perhaps it was simple modesty. Any
way, she engaged Jael to be of the party.
It was talked of again at luncheon, and then Mr. Raby
put in a word. "I have one stipulation to make, young
people, and that is that you go up the east side, and down
the same way.   It is all safe walking on that side.  I
shall send you in my four-wheel to the foot of the hill, and
George will wait for you there at the ' Colley Dog' publichouse, and bring you home again."
This was of course accepted with thanks, and the four,
wheel came round at two o'clock. Jael was seated in front by
the side of George, who drove; Mr. Coventry and Grace,
behind. He had his fur-cloak to keep his companion warm
on returning from the hill; but Mr. Raby, who did nothing
by halves, throw in some more wraps, and gave a warm one
to Jael; she was a favourite with him, as indeed were all
the Deuces.
They started gaily, and rattled off at a good pace. Before
they had got many yards on the high-road, they passed a firplantation, belonging to Mr. Raby, and a magpie fluttered out
of this, and flew across the road before them.
Jael seized the reins, and pulled them so powerfully, she
stopped the pony directly. " Oh, the foul bird! " she cried,
"turn back! turn back! "
" What for? " inquired Mr. Coventry.
" We shall meet with trouble else. One magpie! and
right athwart us too."
" What nonsense! " said Grace.
"Nay, nay, it is not; Squire knows better. Wait just
one minute, till I speak to Squire." She sprang from the
carriage with one bound, and holding up her dress with one
hand, ran into the house like a lapwing.
" The good, kind, silly thing! " said Grace Carden.
Jael soon found Mr. Raby, and told him about the magpie,
and begged him to come out and order them back.
But Mr. Raby smiled and shook his head. " That won't
do. Young ladies and gentlemen of the present day don't
believe in omens."
" But you do know better, sir. I have heard father say



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

159

you were going to Hillsborough with him one day, and a
magpie flew across, and father persuaded you to turn back."
" That is true: he was going in to buy some merino
pheep, and I to deposit my rents in Carrington's bank. Next
lay the bank broke. And the merino sheep all died within
the year. But how many thousand times does a magpie cross
us and nothing come of it?  Come, run away, my good girl,
and don't keep them waiting."
Jael obeyed, with a sigh. She went back to her partythey were gone. The carriage was just disappearing round
a turn in the road. She looked at it with amazement, and
even with anger.   It seemed to her a brazen act of bad
faith.
"I wouldn't have believed it of her," said she, and went
back to the house, mortified and grieved. She did not go to
Mr. Raby again; but he happened to catch sight of her about
an hour afterwards, and called to her-"( How is this, Jael?
Have you let them go alone, because of a magpie? " And
he looked displeased.
" Nay, sir: she gave me the slip, while I went to speak
to you for her good; and I call it a dirty trick, saving your
presence. I told her, I'd be back in a moment."
" Oh, it is not her doing, you may be sure; it is the
young gentleman. He saw a chance to get her alone, and of
course he took it. I am not very well pleased; but I suppose she knows her own mind. It is to be a marriage, no
doubt."  He smoothed it over, but was a little put out, and
stalked away without another word: he had said enough to
put Jael's bosom in a flutter, and open a bright prospect
to her heart; Miss Carden once disposed of in marriage,
what might she not hope? She now reflected, with honest
pride, that she had merited Henry's love by rare unselfishness.
She had advised him loyally, had even co-operated wiil him
as far as any poor girl, with her feelings for him could do;
and now Mr. Coventry was going to propose marriage to her
rival, and she believed Miss Carden would say "yes," though
she could not in her heart believe that even Miss Carden did
not prefer the other. "Ay, lad," said she, " if I am to win
thee, I'll be able to say I won thee fair."
These sweet thoughts and hopes soon removed her temporary anger, and nothing remained to dash the hopeful joy,
that warmed that large and loyal heart this afternoon, except
a gentle misgiving that Mr. Coventry might make Grace a



160          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
worse husband than she deserved. It was thus she read the
magpie, from three o'clock till six, that afternoon.
When a man and a woman do anything wrong, it is
amusing to hear the judgments of other men and women thereupon. The men all blame the man, and the women all the
womfan. That is judgment, is it not?
But in some cases our pitchfarthing judgments must be
either heads or tails; so Mr. Raby, who had cried heads,
when a Mrs. Raby would have cried ' woman,' was right: it
was Mr. Coventry, and not Miss Carden, who leaned over to
George, and whispered, "A sovereign, to drive on without
her! Make some excuse."
The cunning Yorkshire groom's eye twinkled at this, and
he remained passive a minute or two; then, said suddenly,
with well-acted fervour, " I can't keep the pony waiting in the
cold like this; " applied the whip, and rattled off with such
decision, that Grace did not like to interfere, especially as
George was known to be one of those hard masters an old
servant.
So, by this little ruse, Mr. Coventry had got her all to
himself for the afternoon. And now she felt sure he would
propose that very day.
She made no movement whatever either to advance or to
avoid the declaration.
It is five miles from Raby Hall, through Cairnhope village,
to the eastern foot of Cairnhope; and while George rattles
Lhem over the hard and frosty road, I will tell the reader
something about this young gentleman, who holds the winning
cards.
Mr. Frederick Coventry was a man of the world. He
began life with a good estate, and a large fund accumulated
during his minority.
He spent all the money in learning the world at home
and abroad; and, when it was all gone, he opened one eye.
But as a man cannot see very clear, with a single orb,
he exchanged rouge-et-noir, &c., for the share-market, and,
in other respects, lived as fast as ever, till he had mortgaged
his estate rather heavily. Then he began to open both eyes.
Next, he fell in love with Grace Carden; and upon that
he opened both eyes very wide, and wished very much he had
his time to live over again.
Nevertheless, he was not much to be pitied. He had
still an estate, which, with due care, could pay off its encuim


PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              ]16
brances; and he had gathered some valuable knowledge.
He knew women better than most men, and he knew whist
profoundly. Above all, he had acquired what Voltaire justly
calls "le grand art de plaire; " he had studied this art, as
many women study it, and few men. Why, he even watched
the countenance, and smoothed the rising bristles of those he
wished to please, or did not wish to displease. This was the
easier to him that he had no strong convictions on any great
topic. It is your plaguey convictions that make men stubborn
and disagreeable.
A character of this kind is very susceptible, either of good
or evil influences; and his attachment to Grace Garden was
turning him the right way.
Add to this a good figure and a distinguished air, and you
have some superficial idea of the gentleman, towards whom
Grace Garden found herself drawn by circumstances, and not
unwillingly, though not with that sacred joy and thrill which
marks a genuine passion.
They left George and the trap at the " Colley Dog," and
ascended the mountain. There were no serious difficulties on
this side; but still there were little occasional asperities, that
gave the lover an opportunity to offer his arm; and Mr. Coventry
threw a graceful devotion even into this slight act of homage.
He wooed her with perfect moderation at first; it was not his
business to alarm her at starting; he proceeded gradually;
and, by the time they had reached the summit, he had felt his
way, and had every reason to hope she would accept him.
At the summit the remarkable beauty of the view threw
her into raptures, and interrupted the more interesting topic
on which he was bent.
But the man of the world showed no impatience (I don't
say he felt none); he answered all Grace's questions, and told
her what all the places were.
But, by-and-by, the atmosphere thickened suddenly in that
quarter, and he then told her gently he had something to show
her on the other side the nob.
He conducted her to a shed the shepherds had erected,
and seated her on a rude bench. "You must be a little tired,"
he said.
Then he showed her, in the valley, one of those delightful
old red brick houses, with white stone facings.  " That is
Bollinghope."



J.i           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
She looked at it with polite interest.
" Do you like it?"
" Very much. It warms the landscape so."
He expected a more prosaic answer; but he took her cue
" I wish it was a great deal prettier than it is, and its ownei
a much better man; richer-wiser-    "
"You are hard to please, Mr. Coventry."
" Miss Carden-Grace-may I call you Grace?"
"It seems to me you have done it."
"But I had no right."
" Then, of course, you will never do it again."
"I should be very unhappy if I thought that.     Miss
Carden, I think you know how dear you are to me, and have
been ever since I first met you. I wish I had ten times more
to offer you than I have. 3ut I am only a poor gentleman, of
good descent, but moderate means, as you see." Comedic!
(Bollinghope was the sort of house that generally goes with
5,0001. a year at least.)
" I don't care about your means, Mr. Coventry," said
Grace, with a lofty smile. " It is your amiable character that
I esteem."
" You forgive me for loving you; for hoping that you will
let me lead you to my poor house there, as my adored wife? "
It had come; and, although she knew it was coming, yet
her face was dyed with blushes.
" I esteem you very much," she faltered. "I thank you
for the honour you do me; but I-oh, pray, let me think what
I am doing." She covered her face with her hands, and her
bosom panted visibly.
Mr. Coventry loved her sincerely, and his own heart beat
high at this moment. He augured well from her agitation;
but presently he saw something that puzzled him, and gave a
man of his experience a qualm.
A tear forced its way between her fingers; another, and
another, soon followed.
Coventry said to himself, " There's some other man."
And he sighed heavily; but even in this moment of true and
strong feeling he was on his guard, and said nothing.
It was his wisest course. She was left to herself, and an
amazing piece of female logic came to Mr. Coventry's aid.
She found herself crying, and got frightened at herself. That,
which would have made a man pause, had just the opposite
effect cw her. She felt that no good could come to anybody



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              168
of those wild and weak regrets that made her weep. She saw
she had a weakness and a folly to cure herself of; and the
cure was at hand. There was a magic in marriage; a gentleman could, somehow, make a girl love him when once she had
married him. Mr. Coventry should be enabled to make her
love him; he should cure her of this trick of crying; it would
be the best thing for everybody-for him, for Jael, for Mr.
Coventry, and even for herself.
She dried her eyes, and said, in a low, tremulous voice:
" Have you spoken to papa of-of this? "
" No. I waited to be authorised by you. May I speak
to him?"
"Yes."
" May I tell him--? "
" Oh, I can't tell you what to tell him. How dark it is
getting. Please take me home."  Another tear or two.
Then, if Coventry had not loved her sincerely, and also
been a man of the world, he would have lost his temper; and
if he had lost his temper, he would have lost the lady, for she
would have seized the first fair opportunity to quarrel. But
no, he took her hand gently, and set himself to comfort her.
He poured out his love to her, and promised her a life of
wedded happiness. He drew so delightful a picture of their
wedded life, and in a voice so winning, that she began to be
consoled, and her tears ceased.
" I believe you love me," she murmured; " and I esteem
you sincerely."
Mr. Coventry drew a family ring from his pocket. It was
a sapphire of uncommon beauty.
" This was my mother's," said he. "Will you do me the
honour to wear it, as a pledge? "
But the actual fetter startled her, I think. She started
up, and said, " Oh, please take me home first! It is going to
snow."
Call her slippery, if you don't like her; call her unhappy
and wavering, if you do like her.
Mr. Coventry smiled now at this attempt to put off the
inevitable, and complied at once.
But, before they had gone a hundred yards, the snow did
really fall, and so heavily that the air was darkened.
"1 We had better go back to the shed till it is over," said
Mr. Coventry.
"Do you think so? " said Grace, doubtfully. " WellU."
M^~



164          PTT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.
And they went back.
But the snow did not abate, and the air got darker. So,
by-and-by, Grace suggested that Mr. Coventry should run
down the hill, and send George up to her with an umbrella.
" What, and leave you alone? " said he.
" Well, then, we had better go together."
They started together.
By this time the whole ground was covered about three
inches deep; not enough to impede their progress; but it had
the unfortunate effect of effacing the distinct features of the
ground; and, as the declining sun could no longer struggle
successfully through the atmosphere, which was half air, half
snow, they were almost in darkness, and soon lost their way.
They kept slanting unconsciously to the left, till they got over
one of the forks of the mountain and into a ravine: they
managed to get out of that, and continued to descend; for the
great thing they had to do was to reach the valley, no matter
where.
But, after a long, laborious, and even dangerous descent,
they found themselves beginning to ascend. Another mountain or hill barred their progress. Then they knew they must
be all wrong, and began to feel rather anxious. They wished
they had stayed up on the hill.
They consulted together, and agreed to go on for the present; it might be only a small rise in the ground.
And so it proved. After a while they found themselves
descending again.
But now the path was full of pitfalls, hidden by the snow
and the darkness.
Mr. Coventry insisted on going first.
In this order they moved cautiously on, often stumbling.
Suddenly Mr. Coventry disappeared with a sudden plunge,
and rolled down a ravine, with a loud cry.
Grace stood transfixed with terror.
Then she called to him.
There was no answer.
She called again.
A faint voice replied that he was not much hurt, and would
try to get back to her.
This, however, was impossible, and all he could do was to
scramble along the bottom of the ravine.
Grace kept on the high ground, and they called to each
other every moment. They seemed to be a long way from



PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.

165

eath other; yet they were never sixty yards apart. At lasi
the descent moderated, and Grace rejoined him.
Then they kept in the hollow for some time, but at last
found another acclivity to mount: they toiled up it, laden
with snow, yet perspiring profusely with the exertion of toiling
uphill through heather clogged with heavy snow.
They reached the summit, and began to descend again.
But now their hearts began to quake. Men had been lost on
Cairnhope before to-day, and never found alive: and they were
lost on Cairnhope; buried in the sinuosities of the mountain,
and in a tremendous snow-storm.
They wandered and staggered, sick at heart; since each
step might be for the worse.
They wandered and staggered, miserably; and the man
began to sigh, and the woman to cry.
At last they were so exhausted, they sat down in despair;
and, in a few minutes, they were a couple of snow-heaps.
Mr. Coventry was the first to see all the danger they ran
by this course.
"For God's sake, let us go on!" he said; " if we once
get benumbed, we are lost. We must keep moving, till help
comes to us."
Then they staggered, and stumbled on again, till they both
sank into a deep snow-drift.
They extricated themselves, but, oh, when they felt that
deep cold snow all round them, it was a foretaste of the
grave.
The sun had set, it was bitterly cold, and still the enormous
flakes fell, and doubled the darkness of the night.
They staggered and stumbled on, not now with any hope
of extricating themselves from the fatal mountain, but merely
to keep the blood alive in their veins. And, when they were
exhausted, they sat down, and soon were heaps of snow.
While they sat thus, side by side, thinking no more of love,
or any other thing but this: should they ever see the sun rise,
or sit by a fireside again? suddenly they heard a sound in the
air behind them, and, in a moment, what seemed a pack of
hounds in full cry, passed close over their heads.
They uttered a loud cry.
"We are saved! " cried Grace. " Mr. Raby is hunting
as with his dogs. That was the echo."
Coventry groaned. "1 What scent would lie?" said he,
l, Those hounds were in the air; a hundred strong."'



166          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Neither spoke for a moment, and then it was Grace who
bioke the terrible silence.
" THE GABRIEL HOUNDS!
" The Gabriel hounds; that run before calamity   Mr.
Coventry, there's nothing to be done now, but to make our
peace with God. For you are a dead man, and I'm a dead
woman. My poor papa! poor Mr. Little! "
She kneeled down on the snow, and prayed patiently,
and prepared to deliver up her innocent soul to Him who
gave it.
Not so her companion. He writhed away from death. He
groaned, he sighed, he cursed, he complained.  What was
Raby thinking of, to let them perish?
Presently he shouted out,-" I'll not die this dog's death,
I will not. I'll save myself, and come back for you."
The girl prayed on, and never heeded him.
But he was already on his feet, and set off to run: and
he actually did go blundering on, for a furlong and more, and
fell into a mountain-stream, swollen by floods, which whirled
him along with it, like a feather. It was not deep enough to
drown him by submersion, but it rolled him over and over
again, and knocked him against rocks and stones, and would
infallibly have destroyed him, but that a sudden sharp turn in
the current drove him, at last, against a projecting tree, which
he clutched, and drew himself out with infinite difficulty. But,
when he tried to walk, his limbs gave way; and he sank,
fainting, on the ground, and the remorseless snow soon
covered his prostrate body.
All this time, Grace Carden was kneeling on the snow, and
was, literally, a heap of snow. She was patient and composed
now, and felt a gentle sleep stealing over her.
That sleep would have been her death.
But, all of a sudden, something heavy touched her clothes,
and startled her, and two dark objects passed her.
They were animals.
In a moment it darted through her mind that animals are
wiser than man in some things. She got up with difficulty,
for her limbs were stiffened, and followed them.
The dark forms struggled on before.   They knew the
ground, and soon took her to the edge of that very stream
into which Coventry had fallen.
They all three went within a yard of Mr. Coventry, and



PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.

167

still they pursued their way; and Grace hoped they were
making for some shelter.     She now called aloud to Mr.
Coventry, thinking he must be on before her. But he had
not recovered his senses.
Unfortunately, the cry startled the sheep, and they made a
rush, and she could not keep up with them: she toiled, she
called, she prayed for strength; but they left her behind, and
she could see their very forms no more. Then she cried out
in agony, and still, with that power of self-excitement, which
her sex possess in an eminent degree, she struggled on and
on, beyond her strength, till, at last, she fell down from sheer
exhaustion, and the snow fell fast upon her body.
But, even as she lay, she heard a tinkling. She took it
for sheep-bells, and started up once more, and once more cried
to Mr. Coventry; and this time he heard her, and shook off
his deadly lethargy, and tried to hobble towards her voice.
Meantime, Grace struggled towards the sound, and lo, a
light was before her, a light gleaming red and dullish in the
laden atmosphere. With her remnant of life and strength, she
dashed at it, and found a wall in her way. She got over it
somehow, and saw the light quite close, and heard the ringing
of steel on steel.
She cried out for help, for she felt herself failing. She
tottered along the wall of the building, searching for a door.
She found the porch. She found the church door. But by this
time she was quite spent; her senses reeled; her cry was a moan.
She knocked once with her hands.     She tried to knock
again; but the door flew suddenly open, and, in the vain
endeavour to knock again, her helpless body, like a pillar of
snow, fell forward; but Henry Little caught her directly, and
then she clutched him feebly, by mere instinct.
He uttered a cry of love and alarm. She opened her filmy
eyes, and stared at him.   Her cold neck and white cheek
rested on his bare and glowing arm.
The moment he saw it was really Grace Carden that had
fallen inanimate into his arms, Henry Little uttered a loud cry
of love and terror, and, putting his other sinewy arm under
her, carried her swiftly off to his fires, uttering little moans of
fear and pity as he went; he laid her down by the fire, and
darted to the forge, and blew it to a white heat; and then
darted back to her, and kissed her cold hands with pretty
moans of love; and then blew up the other fires: and then



168          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
back to her, and patted her hands, and kissed them with all
his soul, and drew them to his bosom to warm them; and
drew her head to his heart to warm her; and all with pretty
moans of love, and fear, and pity; and the tears rained out of
his eyes at sight of her helpless condition, and the tears fell
upon her brow and her hands: and all this vitality and love
soon electrified her: she opened her eyes, and smiled faintly,
but such a smile, and murmured, "It's you," and closed her
eyes again.
Then he panted out, " Yes, it is I,-a friend. I won't
hurt you,-I won't tell you how I love you any more,-only
live! Don't give way. You shall marry who you like. You
shall never be thwarted, nor worried, nor made love to again;
only be brave and live; don't rob the world of the only angel
that is in it. Have mercy, and live! I'll never ask more of
you than that. Oh, how pale! I am frightened. Cursed
fires, have you no warmth in you? " And he was at the
bellows again. And the next moment back to her, imploring
her, and sighing over her, and saying the wildest, sweetest,
drollest things, such as only those who love can say, in
moments when hearts are bursting.
How now?   Her cheek that was so white is pink-pinker
-red-scarlet. She is blushing.
She had closed her eyes at Love's cries. Perhaps she was
not altogether unwilling to hear that divine music of the
heart, so long as she was not bound to reply and remonstrate,
-being insensible.
But now she speaks, faintly, but clearly, ' Don't be
frightened. I promise not to die. Pray don't cry so." Then
she put out her hand to him, and turned her head away, and
cried herself, gently, but plenteously.
Henry, kneeling by her, clasped the hand she lent him with
both his, and drew it to his panting heart in ecstasy.
Grace's cheeks were rosy red.
They remained so a little while in silence.
Henry's heart was too full of beatitude to speak.  He
drew her a little nearer to the glowing fires, to revive her
quite; but still kneeled by her, and clasped her hand to his
heart. She felt it beat, and turned her blushing brow away,
but made no resistance: she was too weak
" Hallo! " cried a new voice, that jarred with the whole
scene; and Mr. Coventry hobbled in sight.   He gazed in
atter emazement on the picture before him.



PUT YOURSELF IN 1IS PLACE.

169

CHAPTER XII.
G OBOE snatched her hand from Henry, and raised herself with
a vigour that contrasted with her late weakness. " Oh, it is
Mr. Coventry. How wicked of me to forget him for a moment I
Thank Heaven you are alive. Where have you been? "
" I fell into the mountain stream, and it rolled me down,
nearly to here. I think I must have fainted on the bank. I
found myself lying covered with snow; it was your beloved
voice that recalled me to life."
Henry turned yellow, and rose to his feet.
Grace observed him, and replied, " Oh, Mr. Coventry, this
is too high-flown. Let us both return thanks to the Almighty,
who has preserved us, and, in the next place, to Mr. Little:
we should both be dead but for him."  Then, before he could
reply, she turned to Little, and said, beseechingly, "Mr.
Coventry has been the companion of my danger."
"Oh, I'll do the best I can for him," said Henry, doggedly. "Draw nearer the fire, sir."  He then put some coal
on the forge, and blew up an amazing fire: he also gave the
hand-bellows to Mr. Coventry, and set him to blow at the
small grates in the mausoleum. He then produced a pair of
wollen stockings. " Now, Miss Carden," said he, "just step
into that pew, if you please, and make a dressing-room of it."
She demurred, faintly, but he insisted, and put her into
the great pew, and shut her in.
" And now, please take off your shoes and stockings, and
hand them over the pew to me."
"Oh, Mr. Little; you are giving yourself so much trouble."
"Nonsense. Do what you are bid."   He said this a little
roughly.
" I'll do whatever you bid me," said she, meekly: and
instantly took off her dripping shoes, and stockings, and
handed them over the pew. She received, in return, a nice
warm pair of worsted stockings.
" Put on these directly," said he, " while I warm your
shoes."
lie dashed all the wet he could out of the shoes, and,
taking them to the forge, put hot cinders in: he shook the
cinders up and down the shoes so quickly, they had not time
to burn, but only to warm and dry them. He advised Coventry
to do the same, and said he was sorry he had only one pair of



170

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

stockings to lend. And that was a lie: for he was glad lie had
only one pair to lend. When he had quite dried the shoes, lie
turned round, and found Grace was peeping over the pew, and
looking intolerably lovely in the fire-light.  He kissed the
shoes furtively, and gave them to her. She shook her head in
a remonstrating way, but her eyes filled.
He turned away, and, rousing all his generous manhood,
said, " Now you must both eat something, before you go."
He produced a Yorkshire pie, and some bread, and a bottle of
wine. He gave Mr. Coventry a saucepan, and set him to heat
the wine; then turned up his sleeves to the shoulder, blew his
bellows, and, with his pincers, took a lath of steel and placed
it in the white embers. "I have only got one knife, and
you won't like to eat with that.   I must forge you one
apiece."
Then Grace came out, and stood looking on, while he
forged knives, like magic, before the eyes of his astonished
guests. Her feet were now as warm as a toast, and her healthy
young body could resist all the rest. She stood, with her back
to the nearest pew, and her hands against the pew too, and
looked with amazement, and dreamy complacency, at the
strange scene before her: a scene well worthy of Salvator
Rosa: though, in fact, that painter never had the luck to hit
on so variegated a subject.
Three broad bands of light shot from the fires, expanding
in size, but weakening in intensity. These lights, and the
candles at the west end, revealed in a strange combination the
middle ages, the nineteenth century, and eternal nature.
Nature first. Snow gleaming on the windows. Oh, it was
cosy to see it gleam, and sparkle, and to think, "Aha! you
all but killed me; now King Fire warms both thee and me."
Snow-flakes, of enormous size, softly descending, and each
appearing a diamond brooch, as it passed through the channels
of fiery ligh
The middle ages.-Massive old arches, chipped and stained;
a mouldering altarpiece, dog's-eared, (Henry had nailed it up
again all but the top corner, and in it still faintly gleamed the
Virgin's golden crown.) Pulpit, richly carved, but mouldering:
gaunt walls, streaked and stained by time. At the west end,
one saint-the last of many-lit by two candles, and glowing
ruby red across thea itervening gulf of blackness: on the
nearest wall an inscription, that still told, in rusty letters, how
Giles de la Beche had charged his lands with six merks a year



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE,              171
for ever, to buy bread and white watered herrings, the same to
be brought into Cairnhope Church every Sunday in Lent, and
given to two poor men and four women; and the same on
Good Friday with a penny dole, and, on that day, the clerk to
toll the bell at three of the clock after noon, and read the
lamentation of a sinner, and receive one groat.
Ancient monuments, sculptures with here an arm gone, and
here a head, that yet looked half alive in the weird and partial
light.
And between one of those medioeval sculptures, and that
mouldering picture of the Virgin, stood a living horse, munching his corn; and in the foreground was a portable forge, a
mausoleum turned into fires and hot plate, and a young man,
type of his century, forging table knives amidst the wrecks of
another age.
When Grace had taken in the whole scene with wonder, her
eye was absorbed by this one figure, a model of manly strength,
and skill, and grace. How lightly he stepped: how easily his
left arm blew the coals to a white heat, with blue flames rising
from them. How deftly he drew out the white steel. With
what tremendous force his first blows fell, and scattered hot
steel around. Yet all that force was regulated to a hair-he
beat, he moulded, he never broke. Then came the lighter
blows; and not one left the steel as it found it. In less than
a minute the bar was a blade. It was xwork incredibly unlike
his method in carving; yet, at a glance, Grace saw it was also
perfection, but in an opposite style. In carving, the hand of
a countess; in forging, a blacksmith's arm.
She gazed with secret wonder and admiration; and the
comparison was to the disadvantage of MAr. Coventry; for he
sat shivering, and the other seemed all power. And women
adore power.
When Little had forged the knives and forks, and two
deep saucers, with magical celerity, he plunged them into
water a minute, and they hissed; he sawed off the rim of a
pow, and fitted handles.
Then he washed his face and hands, and made himself dry
and glowing; let down his sleeves, and served them some
Yorkshire pie, and bread, and salt, and stirred a little sugar
into the wine, and poured it into the saucers.
" Now eat a bit, both of you, before you go."
Mr. Coventry responded at once to the invitation.
But Grace said timidly, " Yes, if you will eat with us."



172          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
~' No, no," said he, " I've not been perished with snow,
nor rolled in a river "
Grace hesitated still; but Coventry attacked the pie directly.
It was delicious. "By Jove, sir," said he, "you are thi,
prince of blacksmiths."
"Blacksmiths!" said Grace, colouring high. But Little
only smiled satirically.
Grace, who was really faint with hunger, now ate a little;
and then the host made her sip some wine.
The food and wine did Mr. Coventry so much good, that
he began to recover his superiority, and expressed his obligations to Henry in a tone which was natural, and not meant to
be offensive; but yet it was so, under all the circumstances:
there was an underlying tone of condescension. It made Grace
fear he would offer Henry his purse at leaving.
Henry himself writhed under it; but said nothing. Grace,
however, saw his ire, his mortification, and his jealousy, in his
face, and that irritated her; but she did not choose to show
either of the men how much it angered her.
She was in a most trying situation, and all the woman's
wit and tact were keenly on their guard.
What she did was this: she did not utter one word of
remonstrance, but she addressed most of her remarks to Mr.
Little; and, though the remarks were nothing in themselves,
she contrived to throw profound respect into them. Indeed,
she went beyond respect. She took the tone of an inferior
addressing a superior.
This was nicely calculated to soothe Henry, and also to
make Coventry, who was a man of tact, change his own
manner.
Nor was it altogether without that effect. But then it
annoyed Coventry, and made him wish to end it.
After a while he said, "' My dear Grace, it can't be far
from Raby Hall. I think you had better let me take you home
at once."
Grace coloured high, and bit her lip.
Henry was green with jealous anguish.
"Are you quite recovered, yourself? " said Grace, demurely,
to Mr. Coventry.
" Quite; thanks to this good fellow's hospitality."
" Then would you mind going to Raby, and sending some
people for me? I really feel hardly equal to fresh exertion
just yet."



PUT YOURSELF   II HIS PLACE.

178

This proposal brought a flush of pleasure to Henry's cheek,
and mortified Mr. Coventry cruelly in his turn.
" What, go and leave you here?  Surely you cannot be
serious."
" Oh, I don't wish you to leave me. Only you seemed in
a hurry."
Henry was miserable again.
Coventry did not let well alone.  He alluded delicately
but tenderly to what had passed between them, and said he
could not bear her out of his sight until she was safe at Raby.
The words and the tone were those of a lover, and Henry was
in agony: thereupon Grace laughed it off. " Not bear me out
of your sight!" said she. "Why, you ran away from me,
and tumbled into the river.  Ha! ha! ha!     And" (very
seriously) "we should both be in another world but for
Mr. Little."
" You are very cruel," said Mr. Coventry. " When you
gave up in despair, I ran for help. You punish me for failure;
punish me savagely."
"Yes, I was ungenerous," said Grace. "Forgive me."
But she said it rather coolly, and not with a very penitent air.
She added an explanation more calculated to please Henry
than him. "Your gallantry is always graceful; and it is
charming, in a drawing-room; but in this wild place, and just
after escaping the grave, let us talk like sensible people. If
you and I set out for Raby Hall alone, we shall lose our way
again, and perish, to a certainty. But I think Mr. Little must
know the way to laby Hall."
" Oh, then," said Coventry, catching at her idea, " perhaps
Mr. Little would add to the great obligation under which he
has laid us both by going to Raby Hall and sending assistance
hither? "
" I can't do that," said Henry, roughly.
"And that is not at all what I was going to propose," said
Grace, quietly. " But perhaps you would be so good as to go
with us to Raby Hall?  Then I should feel safe; and I want
Mr. Raby to thank you, for I feel how cold and unmeaning all
I have said to you is; I seem to have no words." Her voice
faltered, and her sweet eyes filled.
"Miss Carden," said the young man, gravely, "I can't do
that. Mr. Raby is no friend of mine, and he is a bigoted old
man, who would turn me out of this place if he knew. Come,
now, when you talk about gratitude to me for not letting you



174

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

be starved to death, you make me blush. Is there a man in
the world that wouldn't?-But this I do say: it would be
rather hard if you two were to go away, and cut my throat in
return; and, if you open your mouths ever so little, either of
you, you will cut my throat. Why, ask yourselves, have I set
up my workshop in such a place as this,-by choice? It takes
a stout heart to work here, I can tell you, and a stout heart to
sleep here over dead bones."
"I see it all. The Trades Unions "
" That is it. So, now, there are only two ways. You must
promise me never to breathe a word to any living soul, or I
must give up my livelihood, and leave the country."
"What, cannot you trust me?  Oh, Mr. Little! "
"No, no; it's this gentleman. He is a stranger to me,
you know; and, you see, my life may be at stake, as well as my
means."
" Mr. Coventry is a gentleman, and a man of honour. He
is incapable of betraying you."
" I should hope so," said Coventry. "I pledge you the
word of a gentleman I will never let any human creature know
that you are working here."
" Give me your hand on that, if you please."
Coventry gave him his hand with warmth and evident
sincerity.
Young Little was reassured. " Come," said he, " I feel 1
can trust you both. And, sir, Miss Carden will tell you what
happened to me in Cheetham's works; and then you will
understand what I risk upon your honour."
"I accept the responsibility; and I thank you for giving
me this opportunity to show you how deeply I feel indebted to
you."
" That is square enough. Well, now my mind is at ease
about that, I'll tell you what I'll do; I won't take you quite to
Raby Hall; but I'll take you so near to it you can't miss it:
and then I'll go back to my work."He sighed deeply at the lonely prospect, and Grace
heard him.
" Come," said he, almost violently, and led the way out of
the church. But he stayed behind to lock the door, and then
joined them.
They all three went together, Grace in the middle.
There was now but little snow falling, and the air was not
so thick; but it was most laborious walking, and soon Mr.



PUT YOURSELF IN tIS PLACE.             175
Coventry, who was stiff and in pain, fell a little behind, and
groaned as he hobbled on.
Grace whispered to Henry: " Be generous. He has hurt
himself so."
This made Henry groan in return. But he said nothing.
He just turned back to Coventry,-" You can't get on without
help, sir; lean on me."
The act was friendly, the tone surly. Coventry accepted
the act, and noted the tone in his memory.
When Grace had done this, she saw Henry misunderstood
it, and she was sorry, and waited an opportunity to restore the
balance: but, ere one came, a bell was heard in the air; the
great alarm-bell of Raby Hall.
Then faint voices were heard of people calling to each other
here and there in the distance.
" What is it?" asked Grace.
Henry replied,-" What should it be? The whole country
is out after you. Mr. Raby has sense enough for that."
" Oh, I hope they will not see the light in the church, and
find you out."
" You are very good to think of that. Ah! there's a bonfire: and here comes a torch. I must go and quench my fires.
Good-by, Miss Carden. Good evening, sir."
With this, he retired; but, as he went, he sighed.
Grace said to Coventry,-" Oh, I forgot to ask him a
question: " and ran after him. " Mr. Little!"
He heard and came back to her.
She was violently agitated. "I can't leave you so," she
said. " Give me your hand."
He gave it her.
" I mortified you; and you have saved me." She took his
hand, and, holding it gently in both her little palms, sobbed
out,--" Oh, think of something I can do, to show my gratitude,
my esteem. Pray, pray, pray."
"Wait two years for me."
" Oh, not that. I don't mean that."
" That or nothing. In two years I'll be as good a gentle.
man as he is. I'm not risking my life in that church for
nothing. If you have one grain of pity or esteem for me, wait
two years."
" Incurable! " she murmured: but he was gone.
Coventry heard the prayer. That was loud and earnest
enough. Her reply he could not bear.



176

PU T YOURSELF TN HIS PLACE.

She rejoined him, and the torch came rapidly forward.
It was carried by a lass, with her gown pinned nearly to
her knees, and displaying powerful and grand limbs: she was
crying, like the tenderest woman, and striding through the
snow, like a young giant.
When the snow first came down, Mr. Raby merely ordered
large fires to be lighted and fed in his guests' bedrooms; he
feared nothing worse for them than a good wetting.
When dinner-time came without them, he began to be
anxious, and sent a servant to the little public-house, to inquire
if they were there.
The servant had to walk through the snow, and had been
gone about an hour, and Mr. Baby was walking nervously up
and down the hall, when Jael Dence burst in at the front door,
as white as a sheet, and gasped out in his face: "THE
GABRIEL HOUNDS!
Raby ran out directly, and sure enough, that strange pack
were passing in full cry over the very house. It was appalling.
He was dumb with awe for a moment. Then he darted into
the kitchen and ordered them to ring the great alarm-bell
incessantly: then into the yard, and sent messengers to the
village, and to all his tenants, and in about an hour there were
fifty torches, and as many sheep-bells, directed upon Cairnhope
hill; and, as men and boys came in from every quarter, to
know why Raby's great alarm-bell was ringing, they were
armed with torches, and sent up Cairnhope.
At last the servant returned from the " Colley Dog," with
the alarming tidings that Miss Carden and Mr. Coventry had
gone up the hill, and never returned. This, however, was
hardly news. The Gabriel hounds always ran before calamity.
At about eleven o'clock, there being still no news of them,
Jael Dence came to Mr. Raby wringing her hands. "Why do
all the men go east for them? "
"Because they are on the east side."
" How can ye tell that?  They have lost their way."
" I am afraid so," groaned Raby.
" Then why do you send all the men as if they hadn't lost
their way? East side of Cairnhope! why, that is where they
ought to be, but it is not where they are, man."
" You are a good girl, and I'm a fool," cried Raby.
*' Whoever comes in after this, I'll send them up by the old
church."



PUT YOURTELF IN HIS PLACE.

177

" Give me a torch, and I'll run myself."
" Ay, do, and I'll put on my boots, and after you."
Then Jael got a torch, and kilted haer gown to her knees,
and went striding through the snow with desperate vigour,
crying as she went, for her fear was great and her hope was
small, from the moment she heard the Gabriel hounds.
Owing to the torch, Grace saw her first, and uttered a
little scream: a loud scream of rapture replied: the torch
went anywhere, and gentle and simple were locked in each
other's arms, Jael sobbing for very joy after terror, and Grace
for sympathy, and also because she wanted to cry, on more
accounts than one.
Another torch came on, and Jael cried triumphantly,
" This way, Squire! She is here! " and kissed her violently
again.
Mr. Raby came up, and took her in his arms, without a
word, being broken with emotion: and, after he had shaken
Coventry by both hands, they all turned homewards, and went
so fast that Coventry gave in with a groan.
Then Grace told Jael what had befallen him, and just then
another torch came in, held by George the blacksmith, who, at
sight of the party, uttered a stentorian cheer, and danced upon
the snow.
" Behave now," said Jael, " and here's the gentleman sore
hurt in the river; Geordie, come and make a chair with me."
George obeyed, and put out his hands, with the fingers
upwards; Jael did the same, with the fingers downwards: they
took hands, and, putting their stalwart arms under Coventry,
told him to fling an arm round each of their necks: he did so,
and up he went; he was no more than a feather to this pair,
the strongest man and woman in Cairnhope.
As they went along, he told them his adventure in the
stream, and, when they heard it, they ejaculated to each other,
and condoled with him kindly, and assured him he was alive by
a miracle.
They reached Raby, and, in the great hall, the Squire
collected his people and gave his orders. " Stop the bell.
Broach a barrel of ale, and keep open house, so long as malt,
and bacon, and cheese last. Turn neither body nor beast from
my door this night, or may God shut His gate in your faces.
Here are two guineas, George, to ring the church bells, you
and your fellows; but sup here first. Cans of hot water
apstairs, for us. Lay supper. instead of dinner; brew a bowi



178

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of punch. Light all the Yule candles, as if it was Christmas
eve. But first down on your knees, all of ye, whilst I thank
God, who has baffled those Gabriel Hell-hounds for once, and
saved a good man and a bonny lass from a dog's death."
They all went down on their knees, on the marble floor,
directly, and the Squire uttered a few words of hearty thanksgiving, and there was scarcely a dry eye.
Then the guests went upstairs, and had their hot baths,
and changed their clothes, and came down to supper in the
blazing room.
Whilst they were at supper, the old servant, who waited on
them, said something in a low voice to his master. He replied
that he would speak to the man in the hall.
As soon as he was gone, Miss Carden said in French,
"Did you hear that?"
" No."
" Well, I did. Now, mind your promise. We shall have
to fib. You had better say nothing. Let me speak for you;
ladies fib so much better than gentlemen."
Mr. Raby came back, and Grace waited to see if he would
tell her. I don't think he intended to, at first; but he
observed her eyes inquiring, and said, " One of the men, who
was out after you to-night, has brought in word there is a light
in Cairnhope old church."
"Do you believe it?"
" No. But it is a curious thing; a fortnight ago (I think
I told you) a shepherd brought me the same story. He had
seen the church on fire; at least he said so. But mark the
paralysing effect of superstition.  My present informant no
sooner saw this light-probably a reflection from one of the
distant torches-than he coolly gave up searching for you.
'They are dead,' says he, ' and the spirits in the old church
are saying mass for their souls. I'll go to supper.' So he
came here to drink my ale, and tell his cock-and-bull story."
Grace put in her word with a sweet, candid face. " Sir,
if there had been a light in that church, should we not have
seen it?"
" Why, of course you would: you must have been within a
hundred yards of it in your wanderings. I never thought of that."
Grace breathed again.
" However, we shall soon know. I have sent George and
another man right up to the church to look. It is quite clear
now."



PUT YOURtSELF IN 111S PLACI.17

179

Grace felt very anxious, but she forced on a careless air.
' And suppose, after all, there should be a light? "
" Then George has his orders to come back and tell me;
if there is a light, it is no ghost nor spirit, but some smuggler,
or poacher, or vagrant, who is desecrating that sacred place;
and I shall turn out with fifty men, and surround the church,
and capture the scoundrel, and make an example of him."
Grace turned cold, and looked at Mr. Coventry.   She
surprised a twinkle of satisfaction in his eye. She never
forgot it.
She sat on thorns, and was so distraite she could hardly
answer the simplest question.
At last, after an hour of cruel suspense, the servant came
in, and said, " George is come back, sir."
" Oh, please let him come in here, and tell us."
" By all means. Send him in."
George appeared, the next moment, in the doorway.
"Well? " said Mr. Raby.
" Well? " said Grace, pale, but self-possessed.
" Well," said George, sulkily, " it is all a lie. Th' old
church is as black as my hat."
"I thought as much," said Mr. Raby. " There, go and
get your supper."
Soon after this Grace went up to bed, and Jael came to
her, and they talked by the fire while she was curling her hair.
She was in high spirits, and Jael eyed her with wonder and
curiosity.
"But, Miss," said Jael, " the magpie was right. Oh, the
foul bird! That's the only bird that wouldn't go into the ark
with Noah and his folk."
" Indeed! I was not aware of the circumstance."
"'Twas so, Miss; and I know the reason.   A very old
woman told me."
" She must have been very old indeed, to be an authority
on that subject. Well, what was the reason? "
" She liked better to perch on the roof of th' ark, and
jabber over the drowning world; that was why. So, ever
after that, when a magpie flies across, turn back, or look to
meet ill-luck."
" That is to say the worst creatures are stronger than their
Creator, and can bring us bad luck against His will. And you
call yourself a Christian? Why this is Paganism. They were
frightened at ravens, and you at magpies,  A fig for your
N 2



180          PUT YOIUSELF IN InI PLACE,
magpies! and another for your Gabriel hounds! God is high
above them all."
" Ay, sure; but these are signs of His will. Trouble and
all comes from God. And so, whenever you see a magpie, or
hear those terrible hounds--"
" Then tremble! for it is all to end in a bowl of punch,
and a roaring fire; and Mr. Raby, that passes for a Tartar,
being so kind to me; and me being in better spirits than I
have been for ever so long."
"Oh, Miss!"
"And oh, Miss, to you. Why, what is the matter?    I
have been in danger!  Very well; am I the first?  I have
had an adventure! All the better. Besides, it has shown me
what good hearts there are in the world, yours amongst the
rest."  (Kissing her.)  "Now, don't interrupt, but listen to
the words of the wise and their dark sayings.  Excitement is
a blessing.  Young ladies need it more than anybody. Half
the foolish things we do, it is because the old people are so
stupid and don't provide us enough innocent excitement.
Dancing till five is a good thing now and then; only that is
too bodily, and ends in a headache, and feeling stupider than
before. But to-night, what glorious excitement! Too late for
dinner-drenched with snow-lost on a mountain-anxietyfear-the Gabriel hounds - terror- despair- resignationsudden relief-warm stockings-delightful sympathy-petted
on every side-hungry-happy-fires-punch 1. I never lived
till to-night-I never relished life till now. How could I?  I
never saw Death nor Danger near enough to be worth a straw."
Jael made no attempt to arrest this flow of spirits.  She
waited quietly for a single pause, and then she laid her hand
on the young lady's, and, fastening her eyes on her, she said,
quietly," You have seen him."
Grace Carden's face was scarlet in a moment, and she
looked, with a rueful imploring glance, into those great grey
searching eyes of Jael Dence.
Her fine silvery tones of eloquence went off into a little
piteous whine.  " You are very cunning-to believe in a
magpie."  And she hid her blushing face in her hands. She
took an early opportunity of sending this too sagacious rustic
to bed.
Next day Mr. Coventry was so stiff and sore ho did not



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              181
some down to breakfast.   But Grace Garden, though very
sleepy, made her appearance, and had a most affectionate conversation with Mr. Raby.  She asked leave to christen him
again. " I must call you something, you know, after all this.
Mr. Raby is cold. Godpapa is childish. What do you say to
-' Uncle?' "
He said he should be delighted.  Then she dipped her
forefinger in water. He drew back with horror.
" Come, young lady," said he, "I know it is an age of
burlesque.  But let us spare the sacraments, and the altar,
and such trifles."
"I'm not half so wicked as you think," said Grace. Then
she wrote " uncle " on his brow, and so settled that matter.
Mr. Coventry came down about noon, and resumed his
courtship. He was very tender, spoke of the perils they had
endured together as an additional tie, and pressed his suit with
ardour.
But he found a great change in the lady.
Yesterday, on Cairnhope Peak, she was passive, but soft
and complying.   To-day she was polite, but cool, and as
slippery as an eel. There was no pinning her.
And, at last, she said, " The fact is, I'm thinking of our
great preservation, and more inclined to pray than flirt, for
once."
" And so am I," said the man of tact; " but what I offer is
a sacred and life-long affection."
" Oh, of course."
" A few hours ago you did me the honour to listen to me.
You even hinted I might speak to your father."
" No, no. I only asked if you had spoken to him."
" 1 will not contradict you.  I will trust to your own
candour. Dear Grace, tell me, have I been so unfortunate as
to offend you since then? "
( No."
" Have I lost your respect? "
" Oh, no."
" Have I forfeited your good opinion? "
"Dear me, no."   (A little pettishly.)
" Then how is it that I love you better, if possible, than
yesterday; and you seem not to like me so well as yestore
day  "
f One is not always in the same humour."
"' Then you don't like me to-day? "



182          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLAGE.
"Oh yes, but I do.  And I shall always like you: if you
don't tease me, and urge me too much.   It is hardly fair to
hurry me so; I am only a girl, and girls make such mistakes
sometimes."
" That is true; they marry on too short an acquaintance.
But you have known me more than two years, and in all that
Lime have I once given you reason to think that you had a
rival in my admiration, my love? "
" I never watched you to see. But all that time you have
certainly honoured me with your attention, and I do believe
you love me more than I deserve. Please do not be angry: do
not be mortified. There is no occasion; I am resolved not to
marry until I am of age; that is all: and where's the harm of
that? "
" I will wait your pleasure; all I ask you, at present, is
to relieve me of my fears, by engaging yourself to me."
" Ah; but I have always been warned against long engagements."
" Long engagements I Why, how old are you, may I ask?"
" Only nineteen. Give me a little time to think."
" If I wait till you are of age, that will be two years."
" Just about.  I was nineteen on the 12th of December.
What is the matter? "
"Oh, nothing. A sudden twinge. A man does not get
rolled over sharp rocks, by a mountain torrent, for nothing."
" No, indeed."
" Never mind that, if I'm not to be punished in my heart
as well. This resolution, not to marry for two years, is it
your own idea? or has somebody put it into your head since
we stood on Cairnhope, and looked at Bollinghope? "
" Please give me credit for it," said Grace, turning very
ted: " it is the only sensible one I have had for a long time."
Mfr. Coventry groaned aloud, and turned very pale.
Grace said she wanted to go upstairs for her work, and so
got away from him.
She turned at the door, and saw him sink into a chair,
with an agony in his face that was quite new to him.
She fled to her own room, to think it all over, and she
entered it so rapidly that she caught Jael crying, and rocking
herself before the fire.
The moment she came in Jael got up, and affected to be
very busy, arranging things; but always kept her back turned
to Grace.



PUT YOTJRSELF TN I-ITS PLACE1

188

The young lady sat down, and leaned her cheek on her
hand, and reflected very sadly and seriously on the misery she
had left in the drawing-room, and the tears she had found here.
Accustomed to make others bright and happy by her bare
presence, this beautiful and unselfish young creature was
shocked at the misery she was sowing around her, and all for
something her judgment told her would prove a chimera. And
again she asked herself was she brave enough, and selfish
enough, to defy her father and her godfather, whose mind was
written so clearly in that terrible inscription.
She sat there, cold at heart, a long time, and at last came
to a desperate resolution.
" Give me my writing-desk."
Jael brought it her.
" Sit down there where I can see you; and don't hide
your tears from me. I want to see you cry. I want every
help. I wasn't born to make everybody miserable: I am
going to end it."
She wrote a little, and then she stopped, and sighed; then
she wrote a little more, and stopped, and sighed. Then she
burned the letter, and began again; and as she wrote, she
sighed; and as she wrote on, she moaned.
And, as she wrote on, the tears began to fall upon the
paper.
It was piteous to see the struggle of this lovely girl, and
the patient fortitude that could sigh, and moan, and weep, yet
go on doing the brave act that made her sigh, and moan, and
weep.
At last, the letter was finished, and directed; and Grace
put it in her bosom, and dismissed Jael abruptly, almost
harshly, and sat down, cold and miserable, before the fire.
At dinner-time, her eyes were so red she would not appear.
She pleaded headache, and dined in her own room.
Meantime Mr. Coventry passed a bitter time.
He had heard young Little say, " Wait two years."  And
now Grace was evading and procrastinating, and so, literally,
obeying that young man, with all manner of false pretences.
This was a revelation, and cast back a bright light on many
suspicious things he had observed in the church.
He was tortured with jealous agony. And it added to his
misery that he could not see his way to any hostilities.
Little could easily be driven out of the country, for that
matter: he had himself told them both how certainly that



184

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

would befall him if he was betrayed to the Unions. But
honour and gratitude forbade this line; and Coventry, in the
midst of his jealous anger, resisted that temptation fiercely,
would not allow his mind even to dwell upon it for a moment.
He recalled all his experiences; and, after a sore struggle
of passion, he came to some such conclusion as this: That
Grace would have married him if she had not unexpectedly
fallen in with Little, under very peculiar and moving circumstances: that an accident of this kind would never occur
again, and he must patiently wear out the effect of it.
He had observed that in playing an uphill game of love the
lover must constantly ask himself, " What should I do, were I
to listen to my heart? " and having ascertained that, must do
the opposite. So now Mr. Coventry grimly resolved to control
his wishes for a time, to hide his jealousy, to hide his knowledge of her deceit, to hide his own anger. He would wait
some months before he again asked her to marry him, unless
he saw a change in her; and, meantime, he would lay himself
out to please her, trusting to this, that there could be no intercourse by letter between her and a workman, and they were
not likely to meet again in a hurry.
It required considerable fortitude to curb his love and
jealousy, and settle on this course. But he did conquer after
a hard struggle, and prepared to meet Miss Carden at dinner
with artificial gaiety.
But she did not appear; and that set Mr. Coventry
thinking again. Why should she have a headache?  He had
a rooted disbelief in women's headaches. His own head had
far more reason to ache, and his heart too. He puzzled himself all dinner-time about this headache, and was very bad
company.
Soon after dinner he took a leaf out of her book, pretended
headache, and said he should like to take a turn by himself in
the air.
What he really wanted to do was to watch Miss Carden's
windows, for he had all manner of ugly suspicions.
Th3re seemed to be a strong light in the room. He could
see no more.
He walked moodily up and down, very little satisfied with
himself, and at last he got ashamed of his own thoughts.
" Oh, no! " he said, " she is in her room sure enough."
He turned his back, ana strolled out into the road.
Presently he heard the rustle of a woman's dress. Ie



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

185

stepped into the shade of the firs directly, and his heart began
to beat hard.
But it was only Jael Dence. She came out within a few
yards of him.   She had something white in her hand, which,
however, she instinctively conveyed into her bosom the moment
she found herself in the moonlight. Coventry saw her do it,
though.
She turned to the left, and walked swiftly up the road.
Now Coventry knew nothing about this girl, except that
she belonged to a class with whom money generally goes a
long way. And he now asked himself whether it might not be
well worth his while to enlist her sympathies on his side.
While he was coming to this conclusion, Jael, who was
gliding along at a great pace, reached a turn in the road, and
Mr. Coventry had to run after her to catch her.
When he got to the turn in the road, she was just going
round another turn, having quickened her pace.
Coventry followed more leisurely. She might be going to
meet her sweetheart; and, if so, he had better talk to her on
her return.
He walked on till he saw at some distance a building, with
light shining through it in a peculiar way: and now the path
became very rugged and difficult. He came to a standstill,
and eyed the place where his rival was working at that
moment. He eyed it with a strange mixture of feelings. It
had saved his life and hers, after all. He fell into another
mood, and began to laugh at himself for allowing himself to be
disturbed by such a rival.
But what is this? Jael Dence comes in sight again: she
is making for the old church.
Coventry watched her unseen. She went to the porch,
and, after she had been there some time, the door was opened
just a little, then wide, and she entered the building. He saw
it all in a moment: the girl was already bought by the other
side, and had carried his rival a letter before his eyes.
A clandestine correspondence!
All his plans and his resolutions melted away before this
discovery. There was nothing to be done but to save the poor
girl from this miserable and degrading attachment, and its
inevitable consequences.
He went home, pale with fury, and never once closed his
eyes all night.
Next day he ordered his dogcart early; and told Mr. Raby



186          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
and Grace he was going to Hillsborough for medical advice:
had a pain in his back he could not get rid of.
He called on the chief constable of Hillsborough, and asked
him, confidentially, if he knew anything about a workman
called Little.
" What; a Londoner, sir? the young man that is at oddE
with the Trades? "
" I shouldn't wonder. Yes; I think he is. A friend of
mine takes an interest in him."
"And so do I. His case was a disgrace to the country,
and to the constabulary of the place. It occurred just ten
days before I came here, and it seems to me that nothing was
done which ought to have been done."
Mr. Coventry put in a question or two, which elicited from
Mr. Ransome all he knew about the matter.
" Where does this Little live? " was the next inquiry.
"I don't know; but I think you could learn at Mr.
Cheetham's. The only time I ever saw Little, he was walking
with the foreman of those works. He was pointed out to me.
A dark young man; carries himself remarkably well-doesn't
look like a workman. If they don't know at Cheetham's, I'll
find him out for you in twenty-four hours."
"But this Grotait. Do you know him? "
"Oh, he is a public character.   Keeps the 'Cutlers'
Arms,' in Black Street."
" I understand he repudiates all these outrages."
"He does. But the workmen themselves are behind the
scenes; and what do they call him?  Why, ' Old Smitem.' "
" Ah! You are one of those who look below the surface,"
said the courtier.
He then turned the conversation, and, soon after, went
away. He had been adroit enough to put his questions in the
languid way of a man who had no personal curiosity, and was
merely discharging a commission.
Mr. Ransome, as a matter of form, took a short note of the
conversation; but attached no importance to it. However, he
used the means at his command to find out Little's abode.
Not that Mr. Coventry had positively asked him to do it; but,
his attention being thus unexpectedly called to the subject, he
felt desirous to talk to Little on his own account.
Mr. Coventry went straight to the " Cutlers' Arms," but
he went slowly. A powerful contest was now going on within
him; jealousy and rage urged him onward, honour and grati


PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

187

hude held him back. Then came his self-deceiving heart, and
suggested that Miss Garden had been the first to break her
promise (she had let Jael Dence into Little's secret), and that
he himself was being undermined by cunning and deceit; strict
notions of honour would be out of place in such a combat.
Lastly, he felt it his duty to save Miss Garden from a degrading
connection.
All these considerations, taken together, proved too strong
for his good faith; and so stifled the voice of conscience, that
it could only keep whispering against the deed, but not prevent it.
He went direct to the " Cutlers' Arms."  He walked into
the parlour and ordered a glass of brandy-and-water, and asked
if he could see Mr. Grotait, privately. Mr. Grotait came in.
" Sit down, Mr. Grotait. Will you have anything? "
" A glass of ale, sir, if you please."
When this had been brought, and left, and the parties
were alone, Coventry asked him whether he could receive a
communication under a strict promise of secrecy.
" If it is a trade matter, sir, you can trust me. A good
many have."
" Well then, I can tell you something about a workman
called Little. But before I say a word, I must make two
express conditions. One is, that no violence shall be used
towards him: the other, that you never reveal to any human
creature it was I who told you."
" What, is he working still? "
" My conditions, Mr. Grotait?"
" I promise you absolute secrecy, sir, as far as you are
concerned. As to your other condition, the matter will work
thus: if your communication should be as important as you
think, I can do nothing-the man is not in the saw-trade-I
shall carry the information to two other secretaries, and shall
not tell them I had it from Mr. Coventry, of Bollinghope."
(Mr. Coventry started at finding himself known.)   " Those
gentlemen will be sure to advise with me, and I shall suggest
to them to take effectual measures, but to keep it, if possible,
from the knowledge of all those persons, who discredit us by
their violent acts."
" Well then, on that understanding-the man works all
night in a deserted church at Cairnhope: it is all up among
the hills."
SGrotait turned red.  " Are you sure of this? "



188          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
"Quite sure."
"You have seen him? "
" Yes."
"Has he a forge? "
"Yes; and bellows, and quantities of moulds, and Etripf
of steel. He is working on a large scale."
" It shall be looked into, sir, by the proper persons. Indeed the sooner they are informed the better."
" Yes, but mind, no violence. You are strong enough to
drive him out of the country without that."
" I should hope so."
Coventry then rose, and left the place; but he had no
sooner got into the street, than a sort of horror fell on him;
horror of himself, distrust and dread of the consequences to
his rival but benefactor.
Almost at the door, he was met by Mr. Ransome, who
stopped him and gave him Little's address; he had obtained
it without difficulty from Bayne.
" I am glad you reminded me, sir," said he; "I shall call
on him myself one of these days."
These words rang in Coventry's ears, and put him in a cold
perspiration. " Fool! " thought he, " to go and ask a public
officer, a man who hears everybody in turn."
What he had done disinclined him to return to Cairnhope.
He made a call or two first, and loitered about, and then at
last back to Raby, gnawed with misgivings and incipient:emorse.
Mr. Grotait sent immediately for Mr. Parkin, Mr. Jobson,
and Mr. Potter, and told them the secret information he had
just received.
They could hardly believe it at first; Jobson, especially,
was incredulous. He said he had kept his eye on Little, and
assured them the man had gone into wood-carving, and was to
be seen in the town all day.
" Ay," said Parkin, "but this is at night; and, now I
think of it, I met him t'other day, about dusk, galloping east,
as hard as he could go."
" My information is from a sure source," said Grotait,
stiffly.
Parkin.-" What is to be done?"
Jobson.-" Is he worth another strike? "
Potter.-" The time is wufavourable: here's a slap of dull
trade.".



PUT YOU11~tL;' IN 111S I-tACM8

189

The three then put their heads together, and various plans
were suggested and discussed, and, as the parties were not now
before the public, that horror of gunpowder, vitriol, and lifepreservers, which figured in their notices and resolutions, did
not appear in their conversation. Grotait alone was silent and
doubtful. This Grotait was the greatest fanatic of the four,
and, like all fanatics, capable of vast cruelty: but his cruelty
lay in his head, rather than in his heart. Out of Trade questions, the man, though vain and arrogant, was of a genial and
rather a kindly nature; and, even in Trade questions, being
more intelligent than his fellows, he was sometimes invested
with a gleam of humanity.
His bigotry was, at this moment, disturbed by a visitation
of that kind. " I'm perplexed," said he: "I don't often
hesitate on a Trade question neither. But the men we have
done were always low-lived blackguards, who would have
destroyed us if we had not disabled them. Now this Little is
a decent young chap. He struck at the root of our Trades, so
long as he wrought openly. But on the sly, and nobody
knowing but ourselves, mightn't it be as well to shut our eyes
a bit?  My informant is not in trade."
The other three took a more personal view of the matter.
Little was outwitting, and resisting them. They saw nothing
for it but to stop him, by hook or by crook.
While they sat debating his case in whispers, and with
their heads so close you might have covered them all with a
tea-tray, a clear musical voice was heard to speak to the barmaid, and, by her direction, in walked into the council-chamber
----Mr. Henry Little.
This visit greatly surprised Messrs. Parkin, Jobson, and
Potter, and made them stare, and look at one another uneasily.
But it did not surprise Grotait so much, and it came about in
the simplest way. That morning, at about eleven o'clock,
Dr. Amboyne had called on Mrs. Little, and had asked Henry,
rather stiffly, whether he was quite forgetting Life, Labour,
and Capital. Now the young man could not but feel that, for
some time past, he had used the good Doctor ill; had neglected
and almost forgotten his benevolent hobby; so the Doctor's
gentle reproach went to his heart, and he said, " Give me a
day or two, sir, and I'll show you how ashamed I am of my
selfish behaviour." True to this pledge, he collected all his
notes together, and prepared a report, to be illustrated with
r'awings. He then went to Cheetham's, more as a matter of



1'U          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
form than anything, to see if the condemned grindstone had
been changed. To his infinite surprise he found it had not,
and Bayne told him the reason. Henry was angry, and went
direct to Grotait about it.
But as soon as he saw Jobson, and Parkin, and Potter, he
started, and they started. " Oh," said he, " I didn't expect
to find so much good company. Why, here's the whole quorum."
"We will retire, sir, if you wish it."
"Not at all. My orders are to convert you all to Life,
Labour, and Capital (Grotait pricked up his ears directly);
and, if I succeed, the Devil will be the next to come round, no
doubt. Well, Mr. Grotait, Simmons is on that same grindstone
you and I condemned. And all for a matter of four shillings.
I find that, in your trade, the master provides the stone, but
the grinder hangs and races it, which, in one sense, is time
lost. Well, Simmons declines the new stone, unless Cheetham
will pay him by time for hanging and racing it: Cheetham
refuses; and so, between them, that idiot works on a faulty
stone. Will you use your influence with the grinder? "
"' Well, Mr. Little, now, between ourselves, don't you think
it rather hard that the poor workman should have to hang and
race the master's grindstone for nothing? "
" Why, they share the loss between them. The stone costs
the master three pounds; and hanging it costs the workman
only four or five shillings. Where's the grievance? "
"Hanging and racing a stone shortens the grinder's life;
fills his lungs with grit. Is the workman to give Life and
Labour for a forenoon; and is Capital to contribute nothing?
Is that your view of Life, Labour, and Capital, young man?"
Henry was staggered a moment. " That is smart," said
he. " But a rule of trade is a rule, till it is altered by consent
of the parties that made it. Now, right or wrong, it is the
rule of trade here that the small grinders find their own stones,
and pay for power; but the saw-grinders are better off, for they
have not to find stones, nor power, and their only drawback is
that they must hang and race a new stone, which costs the
master sixty shillings. Cheetham is smarting under your rules,
and you can't expect him to go against any rule that saves him
a shilling."
" What does the grinder think? "
" You might as well ask what the grindstone thinks."
" Well, what does the grinder say, then? "
" Says he'd rather run the stone out, than lose a forenoon."



PUTT YOVI5StiLF 11 IHIS PtACE1

191

X Well, sir, it is his business,"
"It may be a man's business to hang himself; but it is
the bystanders' to hinder him."
" You mistake me. I mean that the grinder is the only
man who knows whether a stone is safe."
" Well, but this grinder does not pretend his stone is safe,
All he says is, safe or not, he'll run it out. So now the question is, will you pay four shillings from your box, for this blockhead's loss of time in hanging and racing a new stone? "
All the four secretaries opened their eyes with surprise
at this. But Grotait merely said he had no authority to
do that; the funds of the Union were set apart for specified
purposes.
" Very likely," said Henry, getting warm: "but, when
there's life to be taken, your Union can find money irregularly;
so why grudge it, when there's life to be saved perhaps, and
ten times cheaper than you pay for blood?"
" Young man," said Grotait, severely, " did you come here
to insult us with these worn-out slanders? "
" No, but I came to see whether you secretaries, who cai
find pounds to assassinate men, and blow up women and
children with gunpowder, can find shillings to secure the life
of one of your own members; he risks it every time he mounts
his horsing."
" Well, sir, the application is without precedent, and I
must decline it; but this I beg to do as courteously as the
application has been made uncourteously."
" Oh, it is easy to be polite when you've got no heart."
"You are the first ever brought that charge against me."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Potter,
warmly. " No heart! Mr. Grotait is known for a good husband, a tender father, and the truest friend in Hillsborough."
The others echoed these sentiments warmly and sincerely; for,
strange as it may appear to those who have not studied human
nature at first hand, every word of this eulogy was strictly true.
" Thank you, gentlemen," said Grotait. " But we must
make allowances. Mr. Little is smarting under a gross and
dastardly outrage, and also under a fair defeat; and thinks
his opponents must be monsters. Now I should like to show
him the contrary.. Let Simmons take care of himself. You
have given him good advice, and much to your credit: now
have you nothing to say to us, on your own account?"
' Not a word," said Henry, steadily.



192

PUT YOTTUSELF IN IIS PLACE.

" But suppose I could suggest a way by which you could
carry on your trade in Hillsborough, and offend nobody? "
" I should decline to hear it even. You and I are at wax
on that. You have done your worst, and I shall do my best to
make. you all smart for it, the moment I get a chance."
" Grotait's cheek reddened with anger at this rebuff, and it
cost him an effort to retain his friendly intentions.  " Come,
come," said he, rather surlily, " don't be in a hurry till you
have heard the nature of my proposal. Here, Jess, a quart of
the best ale. Now, to begin, let us drink and be comfortable
together."
He passed the glass to Little, first. But the young man's
blood was boiling with his wrongs, and this patronizing air
irritated him to boot. He took the glass in his hand, " Here's
quick exposure-sudden death-and sure damnation-to all
hypocrites and assassins!"   He drained the glass to this
toast, flung sixpence on the table, and strode out, white with
passion himself, and leaving startled faces behind.
" So be it," said Grotait; and his wicked little eye glittered
dangerously.
That same evening, a signal, well known to certain workmen in' Hillsborough, peeped in the window of the " Cutlers'
Arms."    And, in consequence, six or seven ill-conditioned
fellows gathered about the doors and waited patiently for
further information.
Amongst these was a sturdy fellow of about nine-and-twenty,
whose existence was a puzzle to his neighbours. During the
last seven years he had worked only eighteen months altogether.
The rest of the time he had been on the Saw-Grinders' box,
receiving relief, viz.: seven shillings and sixpence weekly for
himself, and two-and-sixpence for his wife, and two shillings
for each child; and every now and then he would be seen with
three or four sovereigns in his possession.
the name of this masterful beggar, of this invalid in theory,
who, in fact, could eat three pounds of steak at a sitting, was
Biggs; but it is a peculiarity of Hillsborough to defy baptismal
names, and substitute others deemed spicier.    Out of the
parish register and the records of the police courts, the scamp
was only known as Dan Tucker.
This Dan stood, with others, loitering about the " Cutlers'
Arms."
Presently out came Grotait, and surveyed the. rascally



PUT YOURSELF IN IIS PLACE.             198
lot.  He beckoned Dan, and retired.   Dan went in after
him.
" Drat his luck! " said one of the rejected candidates, "he
always gets the job." The rest then dispersed.
Tucker was shown into a pitch dark room, and there a bargain was struck between him and men unseen. He and three
more were to go to Gairnhope, and do Little. He was to
avoid all those men who had lately stood at the door with him,
and was to choose for his companions, Simmons the grinder,
and one Sam Cole, a smooth, plausible fellow, that had been
in many a dark job, unsuspected even by his wife and family,
who were respectable.
Thus instructed, Tucker went to the other men, and soon
reported to Grotait that he had got Cole and another all right,
but that Simmons looked coldly on the job. He was in full
work, for one thing, and said Little had had his squeak already,
and he didn't see following him eleven miles off; he had, however, asked him whether Little had a wife and children, which
question he, Tucker, could not answer.
"But I can," said Grotait. "He is a bachelor. You
can tell Simmons so. There are reasons why Ned Simmons
must be in this. Try him to-morrow, at dinner-time. Bid
two pounds more; and-his wife is near her time-tell him
this job will help him buy her wine and things," said the kind,
parental, diabolical Grotait.
Next morning Henry worked with the pen for Doctor
Amboyne till twelve o'clock. He then, still carrying out his
friend's views, went down to Mr. Cheetham's works to talk to
Simmons.
But he found an ill-looking fellow standing by the man's
side, and close at his ear.  This was no other than Dan
Tucker, who by a neat coincidence was tempting him to do
Little.
Yesterday's conversation had unsettled Simmons, and he
did not come to work till twelve o'clock. He then fixed a small
pulley-wheel to his grindstone, to make up for lost time.
He was still resisting the tempter, but more faintly than
yesterday, when Little came in, and spoke to him. Both he
and Dan were amazed at his appearance on the scene at that
particular moment. They glared stupidly, but said nothing.
" Look here, Simmons," said Little.  ' 1 have been to
your friend Grotait. and asked him to pay you for what you call



194          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE,
time lost in hanging and racing a new stone. He won't do it.
That is your friend. Now, I'm your enemzy; so the Union
says. Well, enemy or not, I'll do what Grotait won't. I'll
pay you the four shillings for lost time, if you will stop that
stone at once, and hang another."
"Why, what's wrong with stone?"
"The best judge in Hilisborough condemned it; and now,
if you are not running it with an undersized pulley-wheel, to
try it worse!"
Simmons got stupid and irritated between the two. His
bit of manhood revolted against Little's offer, made whilst he
was half lending his ear to Tucker's proposal; and, on the
other hand, that very offer irritated him with Tucker, for
coming and tempting him to do this very Little, who was a
good sort.
11-     you both! " said the rough fellow.  "I wish you'd
let me alone. Here, I've lost my morning's wvork already."
Then, to Little, "1Mind thyself, old lad. Happen thou's in
more danger than I am."
"1What d'ye mean by that?" said Little, very sharply.
But Simmons saw he had gone too far, and now maintained
a sullen silence.
Henry turned to Tucker. "I don't know who you are,
but I call you to witness that I have done all I can for this
idiot. Now, if he comes to harm, his blood be upon his own
head."
Then Henry went off in dudgeon, and, meeting Bayne in
the yard, had a long discussion with him on the subject.
The tempter took advantage of Little's angry departure,
and steadily resumed his temptation.
But he was interrupted in his turn.
The defect in this grindstone was not so serious but that
the stone might perhaps have been ground out with fair treatment; but, by fixing a small pulley-wheel, Simmons had
caused it to rotate at furious speed. This tried it too hard,
and it flew in two pieces, just as the grinder was pressingr down
a heavy saw on it with all his force.
One piece, weighing about five hundredweight, tore the
horsing chains out of the floor, and went clean through the
window (smashing the- woodwork), out into the yard, and was
descending on Little's head; but he heard the crash and saw
it coming; ho ran yelling out of the way, and dragged Bayne
with himi. The other fragment went straight up to the ceiling,



PUT YOURSELF IN 1IS PLICE.

195

and broke a heavy joist as if it had been a cane; then fell
down again plump, and would have destroyed the grinder on
the spot, had he been there; but the tremendous shock had
sent him flying clean over the splatter-board, and he fell on
his stomach on the wheelband of the next grindstone, and so
close to the drum, that, before any one could recover the shock
and seize him, the band drew him on to the drum, and the
drum, which was drawing away from the window, pounded him
against the wall, with cruel thuds.
One ran and screamed to stop the power, another to cut
the big wheelbands. All this took several seconds; and hero
seconds were torn flesh and broken bones.  Just as Little
darted into the room, pale with his own narrow escape, and
awe-stricken at the cries of horror within, the other grinders
succeeded in dragging out, from between the wall and the
drum, a bag of broken bones and blood and grease, which, a
minute before, was Ned Simmons, and was talking over a deed
of violence to be done.
The others carried him and laid him on a horsing; and
there they still supported his head and his broken limbs, sick
with horror.
The man's face was white, and his eyes stared, and his
body quivered. They sprinkled him with water.
Then he muttered, " All right. I'm not much hurt.-Ay,
but I am though. I'm done for."
After the first terror of the scene had passed, the men were
for taking him to the infirmary. But Little interposed eagerly,
"No, no. I'll pay the doctor myself sooner. He shall be
nursed at home, and have all that skill can do to save him.
Oh, why, why, would he not listen to me? "
A stretcher was got, and a mattress put on it, and they
carried him through the streets, while one ran before to tell
the unhappy wife, and Little took her address, and ran to
Dr. Amboyne. The Doctor went instantly to the sufferer.
Tucker assisted to carry the victim home. He then returned
to Grotait, and told him the news. Dan was not so hardened
but what he blubbered in telling it, and Grotait's eyes were
moist with sympathy.
They neither of them spoke out, and said, " This upsets
our designs on Little."  Each waited to see whether that job
was to go on. Each was ashamed to mention it now. So i;
came to a standstill.
As for Little, he was so shocked bv this tragedy, and so
o 9



IJUD         PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
anxious about its victim, that he would not go out to Cairn.
hope. He came, in the evening, to Dr. Amboyne, to inquire,
"Can he live? "
" I can't say yet. He will never work again."
Then, after a silence, he fixed his eyes on young Little,
and said, "I am going to make a trial of your disposition.
This is the man I suspected of blowing you up; and I'm of
the same opinion still."
" Then he has got his deserts," were Henry's first words,
after a pause of astonishment.
" Does that mean you forgive him, or you don't forgive
him?"
<"I daresay I should forgive the poor wretch, if he was to
ask me."
"And not without?"
"No. I might try and put it out of my head; but that is
all I could do."
"Is it true that you are the cause of his not being taken
to the infirmary? "
" "Yes, I said I'd pay out of my own pocket sooner; and
I'm not the sort to go from my word. The man shall want
for nothing, sir. But please don't ask me to love my enemies,
and all that Rot. I scorn hypocrisy. Every man hates his
enemies: he may hate 'em out like a man, or palaver 'em,
and beg God to forgive 'em, (and that means damn 'em,) and
hate 'em like a sneak; but he always hates 'em."
The Doctor laughed heartily.  " Oh, how refreshing a
thing it is to fall in with a fellow who speaks his real mind.
However, I am not your enemy, am I? "
" No. You are the best friend I ever had-except my
mother."
" I am glad you think so; because I have a favour to ask
you."
"' Granted, before ever you speak."
"' I want to know, for certain, whether Simmons was the
man who blew you up: and I see but one way of learning it.
You must visit him, and be kind to him; and then, my art
tells me, he won't leave the world without telling you. Oblige
me by taking him this bottle of wine, at once, and also this sedative, which you can administer if he is in violent pain, but
not otherwise."
" Doctor," said the young man, "you always get your own
way with me. And so you ought."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

197

Little stood by Simmons's bedside.
The man's eye was set, his cheek streaked with red, and
his head was bandaged. He laboured in breathing.
Young Little looked at him gravely, and wondered whether
this battered figure was really the man who had so nearly
destroyed him.
After some minutes of this contemplation, he said, gravely,
" Simmons, I have brought you some wine."
The man stared at him, and seemed confused. fHe made
no reply.
" Give me a spoon," said Henry.
Mrs. Simmons sat by the bedside rocking herself; she was
stupefied with grief: but her sister, a handy girl, had come to
her in her trouble: she brought Henry a spoon directly.
He poured out a little wine, and put it to the sufferer's lips.
He drank it, and said it was rare good stuff. Henry gave him
a little more.
Simmons then looked at him more intelligently and attentively, and gave a sort of shiver. " Who be you? "
" Henry Little; who advised you not to run that stone."
"Ah!" said Simmons, "I thought it was you."      He
seemed puzzled. But, after a while, he said, " I wish I had
hearkened thee, lad. Give me some more of yonder stuff.
What is it? "
"Port wine."  Then he turned to the girl, and gave her a
sovereign, and sent her out for some mutton chops. " Meat
and wine are all the physic you are to have, my poor
fellow."
" It won't be for long, lad. And a good job too. For I'm
a bad 'un. I'm a bad 'un."
Henry then turned to the poor woman, and tried to say
something to console her, but the words stuck in his throat.
She was evidently near her confinement; and there lay her
husband, worse than in his grave. Little broke down himself,
while trying to comfort her.
The sufferer heard him, and said, all of a sudden, " Hold
a light here."
Henry took the candle, and held it over him.
" Nay, nay, it is thy face I want to see."
Henry was puzzled at the request, but did as he was asked.
Simmons gave a groan. " Ay," said he, "thou's all right.
And I lie here. That seems queer."
The sister 'ow returned, and Henry wrote her his address,



198          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
and conversed with her, and told her the whole story of the
grindstone, and said that, as he had hindered Simmons from
being taken to the infirmary, he felt bound to see he did not
suffer by that interference.  He gave her his address, and
said, if anything was wanted, she must come to him, or to his
mother if he should be out.
No doubt the women talked of his kindness by the sick
bed, and Simmons heard it.
Early in the morning Eliza Watney called at Little's house,
with her eyes very red, and said her brother-in-law wanted to
speak to him.
He went with her directly; and, on the road, asked her
what it was about.
" I'm ashamed to tell you," said she, and burst out crying.
"But I hope God will reward you; and forgive him" he is a
very ignorant man."
" Here I am, Simmons."
So I see."
"Anything I can do for you?"
"No."
"You sent for me."
"Did I?   Well, I daresay I did. But gi' me time. Gi'
me time. It's noane so easy to look a man in the face, and
tell him what I'm to tell thee. But I can't die with it on me.
It chokes me, ever since you brought me yonder stuff, and the
women set a talking. I say-old lad-'twas I did thee you
little job at Cheetbam's. But I knew no better."
There was a dead silence. And then Henry spoke.
"Who set you on? "
"Nay, that's their business."
"How did you do it? "
At this question-will it be believed 2-the penitent's eye
twinkled with momentary vanity. " I fastened a teacup to an
iron rake, and filled the cup with powder; then I passed it in,
and spilt the powder out of cup, and raked it into the smithy
slack, and so on, filling and raking in. But I did thee one
good turn, lad; I put powder as far from bellows as I could.
Eb, but I was a bad 'un to do the like to thee: and thou's
a good 'un to come here. When I saw thee lie there, all
scorched and shaking, I didn't like my work; and now I hate
it. But I knew no better at the time. And, you see, I'vo
aot it worse myself, 'and cheap served too."



PUT YOUTJhTLF IN HIS PLACE.            1UV
" Oh, Mr. Little," said Elizabeth Watney; " try and forgive him."
" My girl," said Henry, solemnly, I thought I never could
forgive the man who did that cruel deed to me, and I had
never injured any one. But it is hard to know one's own
mind, let alone another man's. Now I look at him, lying pale
and battered there, it seems all wiped out. I forgive you, my
poor fellow, and I hope God will forgive you too."
" Nay. He is not so soft as thou. This is how He forgives me. But I knew no better. Old gal, learn the young
'un to read, that's coming just as I'm going; it is sore against
a chap if he can't read. Right and wrong, d-n 'em, they are
locked up in books, I think; locked away from a chap like me.
I know a little better now. But, eh dear, dear, it is come too
late." And now the poor wretch began to cry at a gleam of
knowledge of right and wrong having come to him only just
when he could no longer profit by it.
Henry left him at last, with the tears in his eyes. Ho
promised them all to come every day.
He called on Dr. Amboyne, and said, " You are always
right, Doctor. Simmons was the man. He has owned it, and
I forgave him."
He then went and told Mr. Holdfast. That gentleman
was much pleased at the discovery, and said, "Ah, but who
employed him? That is what you must discover."
"I will try," said Henry. " The poor fellow had half a mind
to make a clean breast; but I didn't like to worry him over it."
Returning home he fell in with Grotait and Parkin. They
were talking earnestly at the door of a public-house, and the
question they were discussing was whether or not Little's affair
should be revived.
They were both a good deal staggered by the fate of
Simmons, Parkin especially, who was rather superstitious. He
had changed sides, and was now inclined to connive, or at all
events, to temporize; to abandon the matter till a more convenient time. Grotait, on the other hand, whose vanity the
young man had irritated, was bent on dismounting his forge.
But even he had cooled a little, and was now disinclined to
violence. He suggested that it must be easy to drive a smith
out of a church, by going to the parochial authorities; and
they could also send Little an anonymous letter, to tell him
the Trades had their eyes on him: by this double stroke, they
would probably bring him to some reasonable terms.



200           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
It certainly was a most unfortunate thing that Little passed
that way just then; unfortunate that Youth is so impetuous.
He crossed the street to speak to these two potentates,
whom it was his interest to let alone-if he could only have
known it.
" Well, gentlemen, have you seen Simmons?"
"No," said Mr. Parkin.
" What, not been to see the poor fellow, who owes his death
to you? "
"He is not dead yet."
"No, thank Heaven! He has got a good work to do first;
some hypocrites, assassins, and cowards to expose."
Parkin turned pale; Grotait's eye glistened like a snake's:
he made Parkin a rapid signal to say nothing, but only listen.
" He has begun by telling me who it was that put gunpowder into my forge, and how it was done. I have forgiven
him. He was only the tool of much worse villains-base,
cowardly, sneaking villains. Those I shall not forgive. Oh, I
shall know all about it before long. Good morning."
This information and threat, and the vindictive bitterness
and resolution with which the young man had delivered it,
struck terror into the gentle Parkin, and shook even Grotait.
The latter, however, soon recovered himself, and it became a
battle for life or death between him and Little.
He invited Parkin to his own place, and there the pair sat
closeted.
Dan Tucker and Sam Cole were sent for.
Tucker came first. He was instantly despatched to Simmons, with money from the Saw-Grinders' box. He was to
ascertain how much Simmons'had let out, and to adjure him
to be true to the Trade, and split on no man but himself.
When he had been gone about twenty minutes, Sam Cole came
in, and was instructed to get two other men in place of Simmons,
and be in readiness to do Little.
By-and-by Tucker returned with news. Simmons had at
present split only on himself; but the women were evidently
in love with Little; said he was their only friend; and he,
Tucker, foresaw that, with their co-operation, Simmons would
be turned inside out by Little before he died.
Grotait struck his hand on the table. " The Unions are
in danger," said he. " There is but one way; Little must be
made so that he can't leave Cairnhope while Simmons is alive."
So important did the crisis appear to him, that he insisted



PUT YOURSELF TN 1IS PLACE

201

on Parkin going with him at once to Cairnhope, to reconnoitre
the ground.
Parkin had a gig and a fast horse; so, in ten minutes more,
they were on the road.
They reached Cairnhope, put up at the village inn, and
soon extracted some particulars about the church. They went
up to it, and examined it, and Grotait gave Parkin a leg up, to
peer through the window.
In this position they were nailed by old George.
" What be you at? "
" What is that to you? " said Grotait.
" It is plenty. You mustn't come trespassing here. Squire
won't have it."
" Trespassing in a churchyard! Why it belongs to all the
world."
" Nay, this one belongs to the Lord o' the manor."
" Well, we won't hurt your church. Who keeps the key?"
" Squire Raby."
Old George from this moment followed them about everywhere, grumbling at their heels, like a mastiff.
Grotait, however, treated him with cool contempt, and proceeded to make a sketch of the door, and a little map showing
how the church could be approached from Hillsborough on foot
without passing through Cairnhope village. This done, he went
back with Parkin to the inn, and thence to Hillsborough.
It was old Christmas eve. Henry was working at his forge,
little dreaming of danger. Yet it was close at hand, and from
two distinct quarters.
Four men, with crape masks, and provided with all manner
of tools, and armed with bludgeons, were creeping about the
churchyard, examining and listening. Their orders were to
make Little so that he should not leave Cairnhope for a month.
And that, in plain English, meant to beat him within an inch
of his life, if not kill him.
At the same time, a body of nine men were stealing up the
road, with designs scarcely less hostile to Little.
These assailants were as yet at a considerable distance;
but more formidable in appearance than the others, being most
of them armed with swords, and led by a man with a doublebarrelled gun.
Grotait's men, having well surveyed the ground, now crept
softly up to the porch, and examined the lock.



0US           PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.
The key was inside, and they saw no means of forcing the
lock without making a noise, and putting their victim on his
guard.
After a long whispered consultation, they resolved to unscrew
the hinges.
These hinges were of great length, and were nailed upon
the door, but screwed into the doorpost with four screws each.
Two men, with excellent tools, and masters of the business,
went softly to work. One stood, and worked on the upper
screws; the other kneeled, and unfastened the lower screws.
They made no more noise than a rat gnawing; yet, such
was their caution, and determination to surprise their victim,
that they timed all their work by Little's. Whenever the blows
of his hammer intermitted, they left off; and began again when
he did.
When all the screws were out but two, one above, one
below, they beckoned the other two men, and these two drove
large gimlets into the door, and so held it that it might not fall
forward when the last screw should come out.
"Are all screws out? " whispered Cole, who was the leader.
" Ay," was the whispered reply.
" Then put in two more gimlets."
That was done.
'Now, men," whispered Cole. "' Lay the door softly down
tutside; then, up sticks-into church-and do him!"
CHAPTER       XIII.
IF Mr. Coventry, before he set all this mischief moving, could
have seen the inside of Grace Carden's letter to Henry Little I
" DEAR MR. LITTLE,-I do not know whether I ought to write
to you at all, nor whether it is delicate of me to say what I am
going; but you have saved my life, and I do so want to do
all I can to atone for the pain I have given you, who have
been so good to me. I am afraid you will never know happiness, if you waste your invaluable life longing after what is
impossible. There is an impassable barrier between you and
me. But you might be happy if you would condescend to take
my advice, and let yourself see the beauty and the goodness



PiUT YOVflSELF IN 111S PLXCE.

208

of another. The person who bears this letter comes nearer to
perfection than any other woman I ever saw. If you would
trust my judgment (and, believe me I am not to be mistaken
in one of my own sex), if you could turn your heart towards
her, she would make you very happy. I am sure she could
love you devotedly, if she only heard those words from your
lips, which every woman requires to hear before she surrenders
her affections. Pray do not be angry with me; pray do not
think it costs me little to give this strange but honest advice
to one I admire so. But I feel it would be so weak and
selfish in me to cling to that, which, sooner or later, I must
resign, and to make so many persons unhappy, when all might
be happy, except perhaps myself.
" Once more, forgive me. Do not think me blind; do not
think me heartless; but say, this is a poor girl, who is sadly
perplexed, and is trying very hard to be good and wise, and
not selfish.
" One line, to say you will consider my advice, and never
hate nor despise
"Your grateful and unhappy friend,
" GRACE CARDEN."
When she had despatched this letter, she felt heroic.
The next day she wished she had not written it, and
awaited the reply with anxiety.
The next day, she began to wonder at Little's silence;
and by-and-by she was offended at it. Surely what she had
written with so great an effort was worth a reply.
Finally, she got it into her head that Little despised her.
Upon this, she was angry with him for not seeing what a
sacrifice she had made, and for despising her, instead of
admiring her a little, and pitying her ever so much.  The old
story, in short-a girl vexed with a man for letting her throw
dust in his eyes.
And, if she was vexed with Little for not appreciating her
sacrifice, she was quite as angry with Coventry and Jael for
being the causes of that unappreciated sacrifice. So then she
was irritable and cross. But she could not be that long; so
she fell into a languid, listless state: and then she let herself
drift. She never sent Jael to the church again.
Mr. Coventry watched all her moods; and, when she
reached the listless stage, he came softly on again, and began
to recover his lost ground.



F04          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
On the fifth of January occurred a rather curious coincidence.  In Hillsborough Dr. Amboyne offered his services
to Mrs. Little to reconcile her and her brother. Mrs. Little
feared the proposal came too late; but showed an inclination
to be reconciled for Henry's sake. But Henry said he would
never be reconciled to a man who had insulted his mother.
He then reminded her she had sent him clandestinely into
Raby Hall to see her picture. " And what did I see?  Your
picture was turned with its face to the wall, and insulting
words written on the back-'Gone into trade.' I didn't
mean to tell you, mother; but you see I have. And, after
that, you may be reconciled to the old scoundrel if you like;
but don't ask me."  Mrs. Little was deeply wounded by this
revelation. She tried to make light of it, but failed. She
had been a beauty, and the affront was too bitter. Said she,
" You mustn't judge him like other people: he was always so
very eccentric. Turn my picture to the wall! My poor
picture! Oh, Guy, Guy, could one mother have borne you
and me? " Amboyne had not a word more to say: he was
indignant himself.
Now that very afternoon, as if by the influence of what
they call a brain-wave, Grace Carden, who felt herself much
stronger with Mr. Raby than when she first came, was moved
to ask him, with many apologies, and no little inward tremor,
whether she might see the other side of that very picture
before she went.
" What for? "
"Don't be angry, uncle dear. Curiosity."
"I do not like to refuse you anything, Grace. But--
Well, if I lend you the key, will you satisfy your curiosity, and
then replace the picture as it is? "
"Yes, I will."
"And you shall do it when I am not in the room. It
would only open wounds that time has skinned. I'll bring
you down the key at dinner-time." Then, assuming a lighter
tone, "Your curiosity will be punished; you will see your
rival in beauty. That will be new to you."
Grace was half frightened at her own success, and I
doubt whether she would ever have asked for the key again;
but Raby's word was his bond; he handed her the key at
dinner-time.
Her eyes sparkled when she got it; but she was not to
open it before him; so she fell thinking: and she determined



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLX.CE.             205
to get the gentlemen into the drawing-room as soon as she
could, and then slip back and see this famous picture.
Accordingly she left the table rather earlier than usual,
and sat down to her piano in the drawing-room.
But alas, her little manoeuvre was defeated. Instead of
the gentlemen leaving the dining-room, a servant was sent to
recall her.
It was old Christmas eve, and the Mummers were come.
Now, of all the old customs Mr. Raby had promised her,
this was the pearl.
Accordingly, her curiosity took for the time another turn,
and she was soon seated in the dining-room, with -Mr. Raby
and Mr. Coventry, awaiting the Mummers.
The servants then came in, and, when all were ready, the
sound of a fiddle was heard, and a fiddler, grotesquely dressed,
entered along with two clowns, one called the Tommy, dressed
in chintz and a fox's skin over his shoulders and a fox's head
for a cap; and one, called the Bessy, in a woman's gown and
beaver hat.
This pair introduced the true dramatis personae, to the
drollest violin accompaniment, consisting of chords till the end
of each verse and then a few notes of melody.
Now the first that I call on
Is George our noble king,
Lorg time he has been at war,
Good tidings back he'll bring.
Too-ral-loo.
Thereupon in came a man, with black breeches and red
stripes at the side, a white shirt decked with ribbons over his
waistcoat, and a little hat with streamers, and a sword.
The clown walked round in a ring, and King George
fellowed him, holding his sword upright.
Meantime the female clown chanted,The next that we call on,
lie is a squire's son,
He's like to lose his love,
Because he is so young.
Too-ral loo.
The Squire's Son followed King George round the ring;
and the clowns marching and singing at the head, introduced
another, and then another, sword-dancer, all attired like the
first, until there were five marching round and round, each
with his sword upright.



2UtD          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Then Foxey sang, to a violin accompaniment,
Now fiddler, then, take up thy fiddle,
Play the lads their hearts' desire,
Or else we'll break thy fiddle,
And fling thee a back o' the fire.
On this the fiddler instantly played a dance-tune peculiar
to this occasion, and the five sword-dancers danced by themselves in a ring, holding their swords out so as to form a cone.
Then a knot, prepared beforehand, was slipped over the
swords, and all the swords so knotted were held aloft by
the first dancer; he danced in the centre awhile, under the
connected swords, then deftly drew his own sword out and
handed it to the second dancer; the second gave the third
dancer his sword, and so on, in rotation, till all the swords
were resumed.
Raby's eyes sparkled with delight at all this, and he
whispered his comments on the verses and the dance.
"King George!" said he. "Bosh!       This is the old
story of St. George and the Dragon, overburdened with
modern additions."  As to the dance, he assured her that,
though danced inhonour of old Christmas, it was older than
Christianity, and came from the ancient Goths and Swedes.
These comments were interrupted by a man, with a white
face, who burst into the assembly crying, " Will ye believe me
now?  Cairnhope old church is all a-fire!"
CHAPTER       XIV.
"AY, Squire," said Abel Eaves, for he was the bearer of this
strange news, "ye wouldn't believe me: now come and see
for yourself."
This announcement set all staring; and George the blacksmith did but utter the general sentiment, when, suddenly
dropping his assumed character of King George, he said,
"Bless us and save us! True Christmas eve; and Cairnhopo
old church alight! "
Then there was a furious buzz of tongues, and, in the
midst of it, Mr. Raby disappeared, and the sword-dancers
returned to the kitchen, talking over this strange matter as
they went.
Grace retired to the drawing-room followed by Coventry.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             207
She sat silent some time, and he watched her keenly.
" I wonder what has become of Mr. Raby? "
Mr. Coventry did not know.
" I hope he is not going out."
"I should think not. It is a very cold night; clear, but
frosty."
" Surely he would never go to see."
" Shall I inquire? "
"No; that might put it into his head. But I wish I
knew where he was."
Presently a servant brought the tea in.
Miss Carden inquired after Mr. Raby.
" He is gone out, Miss; but he won't be long, I was to
tell you."
Grace felt terribly uneasy and restless; rang the bell and
asked for Jael Dence. The reply was that she had not been
to the hall that day.
But soon afterwards, Jael came up from the village, and
went into the kitchen of Raby. There she heard news, which
soon took her into the drawing-room.
" Oh, Miss," said she, " do you know where the Squire is?"
" Gone to the church? " asked Grace, trembling.
"Ay, and all the sword-dancers at his back."  And she
stood there and wrung her hands with dismay.
The ancienta had a proverb, "Better is an army of stags
with a lion for their leader, than an army of lions with a stag
for their leader." The Cairnhope sword-dancers, though stout
fellows and strong against a mortal foe, were but stags against
the supernatural; yet, led by Guy Raby, they advanced upon the
old church with a pretty bold front, only they kept twenty yards
in their leader's rear. The order was to march in dead silence.
At the last turn in the road their leader suddenly halted,
and, kneeling on one knee, waved to his men to keep quiet: he
had seen several dark figures busy about the porch.
After many minutes of thrilling, yet chilling expectation,
he rose, and told his men in a whisper to follow him again.
The pace was now expedited greatly, and still Mr. Raby,
with his double-barrelled gun in his hand, maintained a lead
of some yards, and his men followed as noiselessly as they could,
and made for the church: sure enough it was lighted inside.
The young man who was thus beset by two distinct bande



208

0PUT YOURSEL1F IN HIS PLACE*

of enemies, deserved a very different fate at the hands of his
fellow-creatures.
For, at this moment, though anything but happy himself,
he was working some hours every day for the good of mankind; and was every day visiting as a friend the battered sawgrinder who had once put his own life in mortal peril.
Ho had not fathomed the letter Grace had sent him. He
was a young man and a straightforward; he did not understand
the amiable defects of the female character. He studied every
line of this letter, and it angered and almost disgusted him.
It was the letter of a lady; but beneath the surface of gentleness and politeness lay a proposal, which he considered mean
and cold-blooded. It lowered his esteem for her.
His pride and indignation were roused, and battled with
his love, and they were aided by the healthy invigorating
habits, into which Dr. Amboyne had at last inveigled him, and
so he resisted: he wrote more than one letter in reply to
Grace Carden; but, when he came to read them over and
compare them with her gentle effusion, he was ashamed of his
harshness, and would not send the letter.
He fought on; philanthropy in Hillsborough, forging in
Cairnhope Church; and still he dreamed strange dreams now
and then: for who can work, both night and day, as this man
did-with impunity?
One night he dreamed that he was working at his forge,
when suddenly the floor of the aisle burst, and a dead knight
sprang from the grave with a single bound, and stood erect
before him, in rusty armour: out of his helmet looked two
eyes like black diamonds, and a nose like a falcon's. Yet, by
one of the droll contradictions of a dream, this impetuous,
warlike form no sooner opened its lips, than out issued a
lackadaisical whine. " See my breastplate, good sir," said he.
" It was bright as silver when I made it-I was like you, I
forged my own weapons, forged them with these hands.-But
now the damps, of the grave have rusted it. Odsbodikins I is
this a thing for a good knight to appear in before his judge?
And to-morrow is Doomsday, so they all say."
Then Henry pitied the poor simple knight (in his dream),
and offered his services to polish the corslet up a bit against
that great occasion. He pointed towards his forge, and the
knight marched to it, in three wide steps that savoured strongly
of theatrical burlesque. But the moment he saw the specimens
of Henry's work lying about, he drew back, and wheelod upon



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.            209
the man of the day with huge disdain. 1" What," said he, " do
you forge toys I Learn that a gentleman can only forge those
weapons of war that gentlemen do use. And I took you for a
Baby!"
With these bitter words he vanished, with flashing eyes and
a look of magnificent scorn, and left his fiery, haughty features
imprinted clearly on Henry's memory.
One evening, as he plied his hammer, he heard a light
sound at a window, in an interval of his own noise. He looked
hastily up, and caught a momentary sight of a face disappearing from the window. It was gone like a flash even as he
caught sight of it.
Transient as the glance was, it shook him greatly. He
heated a bar of iron white hot at one end, and sallied out into
the night. But there was not a creature to be seen.
Then he called aloud, " Who's there?" No reply. "Jael,
was it you? " Dead silence.
He returned to his work, and set the appearance down to
an ocular illusion. But his dreams had been so vivid, that
this really seemed only one step more into the realms of hallucination.
This was an unfortunate view of the matter.
On old Christmas eve he lighted the fires in his mausGleum first, and at last succeeded in writing a letter to Grace
Carden. He got out of the difficulty in the best way, by
making it very short. He put it in an envelope and addressed
it, intending to give it to Jael Dence, from whom he was always
expecting a second visit.
He then lighted his forge, and soon the old walls were
ringing again with the blows of his hammer.
It was ten o'clock at night; a clear frosty night; but he
was heated and perspiring with his ardent work, when, all of a
sudden, a cold air seemed to come in upon him from a new quarter
-the door. He left his forge, and took a few steps to where
he could see the door. Instead of the door, he saw the blue sky.
He uttered an exclamation, and rubbed his eyes.
It was no hallucination. The door lay flat on the ground,
and the stars glittered in the horizon.
Young Little ran towards the door; but, when he got near
it, he paused, and a dire misgiving quelled him. A workman
soon recognizes a workman's hand; and he saw Hillsborough
cunning and skill in this feat, and "Iillsborough cunning azm
cruelty lurking in ambush at the door.
r'



210           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
He went back to his forge, and, the truth must be told, his
knees felt weak under him with fears of what was to come.
He searched about for weapons, and could find nothing to
protect him against numbers. Pistols he had; but, from a
wretched over-security, he had never brought them to Cairnhope
Church.
Oh, it was an era of agony that minute, in which, after
avoiding the ambuscade that he felt sure awaited him at the
door, he had nothing on earth he could do but wait and see
what was to come next.
He knew that however small his chance of escape by
fighting, it was his only one; and he resolved to receive the
attack where he was. He blew his bellows and, cold at heart,
affected to forge.
Dusky forms stole into the old church.
CHAPTER XV.
LITTLE blew his coals to a white heat: then took his hammer
into his left hand, and his little iron shovel, a weapon about
two feet long, into his right.
Three assailants crept towards him, and his position was
such that two at least could assail him front and rear. He
counted on that, and measured their approach with pale check
but glittering eye, and thrust his shovel deep into the white coals.
They crept nearer and nearer, and, at last, made an almost
simultaneous rush on him back and front.
The man in his rear was a shade in advance of the other.
Little, whose whole soul was in arms, had calculated on this,
and, turning as they came at him, sent a shovelful of fiery
coals into that nearest assailant's face, then stepped swiftly
out of the way of the other, who struck at him too immediately
for him to parry; ere he could recover the wasted blow, Little's
hot shovel came down on his head with tremendous force, and
laid him senseless and bleeding on the earth, with blood running
trom his ears.
Little ladled the coals right and left on the other two
assailants, one of whom was already yelling with the pain of
the first shovelful; then, vaulting suddenly over a pew, he rai
for the door.



PVTl? YOMJLEtr M HIS n  PLIOH     1

211,

There he was encountered by Sam Cole, an accomplished
cudgel-player, who parried his blows coolly, and gave him a
severe rap on the head that dazzled him. But he fought on,
till he heard footsteps coming behind him, and then rage and
despair seized him, he drew back, shifted his hammer into his
right hand, and hurled it with all his force at Cole's breast, for
he feared to miss his head. Had it struck him on the breast,
delivered as it was, it would probably have smashed his breast.
bone, and killed him; but it struck him on his throat, which
'was, in some degree, protected by a muffler: it struck him and
sent him flying like a feather: he fell on his back in the porch,
yards from where he received that prodigious blow.
Henry was bounding out after him, when he was seized
from behind, and the next moment another seized him too,
and his right hand was now disarmed by throwing away the
hammer.
He struggled furiously with them, and twice he shook them
off, and struck them with his fist, and jobbed them with his
shovel quick and short, as a horse kicking.
But one was cunning enough to make a feint at his face,
and then fall down and lay hold of his knees: he was about to
pulverize this fellow with one blow of his shovel, when the
other flung his arms round him. It became a mere struggle.
Such was his fury and his vigour, however, that they could not
master him. He played his head like a snake, so that they
could not seize him disadvantageously; and at last he dropped
his shovel and got them both by the throat, and grasped them
so fiercely that their faces were purple, and their eyes beginning to fix, when, to his dismay, he received a violent blow on
the right arm that nearly broke it: he let go, with a cry of
pain, and with his left hand twisted the other man round sa
quickly, that he received the next blow of Cole's cudgel. Then
he dashed his left fist into Cole's eye, who staggered, but still
barred the way; so Little rushed upon him, and got him by
the throat, and would soon have settled him: but the others
recovered themselves ere he could squeeze all the wind out of
Cole, and it became a struggle of three to one.
He dragged them all three about with him; he kicked, he
hit, he did everything that a man with one hand, and a lion's
heart, could do.
But gradually they got the better of him; and at last it
came to this, that two were struggling on the ground with him,
and Cole standing over them all three, ready to strike,
P2



211          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
I" Now, hold him so, while I settle him," cried Cole, and
raised his murderous cudgel.
It came down on Little's shoulder, and only just missed his
head.
Again it came down, and with terrible force.
Up to this time he had fought as mute as a fox. But
now that it had come to mere butchery, he cried out, in his
agony, "They'll kill me.-My mother!-Help! Murder I
Help!"
"Ay! thou'lt never forge no more!" roared Cole, and
thwack came down the crushing bludgeon.
" Help I Murder! Help! " screamed the victim, more
faintly; and at the next blow more faintly still.
But again the murderous cudgel was lifted high, to descend
upon his young head.
As the confederates held the now breathless and despairing
victim to receive the blow, and the butcher, with one eye closed
by Henry's fist, but the other gleaming savagely, raised the
cudgel to finish him, Henry saw a huge tongue of flame pour
out at them all, from outside the church, and a report, that
sounded like a cannon, was accompanied by the vicious ping of
shot. Cole screamed and yelled, and dropped his cudgel, and
his face was covered with blood in a moment; he yelled, and
covered his face with his hands; and instantly came another
flash, another report, another cruel ping of shot, and this time
his hands were covered with blood.
The others rolled yelling out of the line of fire. and ran up
to the aisle for their lives.
Cole tried to follow; but Henry, though sick and weak
with the blows, caught him, and clung to his knees, and the
next moment the place was filled with men carrying torches
and gleaming swords, and led by a gentleman, who stood over
Henry, in evening dress, but with the haughty expanded
nostrils, the brilliant black eyes, and all the features of that
knight in rusty armour, who had come to him in his dream,
and left him with scorn.
At this moment a crash was heard: two of the culprits,
with desperate agility, had leaped on to the vestry-chest, and
from that on to the horse, and from him headlong out at the
window.
Mr. Raby despatched all his men but one in pursuit, with
this brief order,-" Take them, alive or dead,-doesn't matter
which,-they are only cutlers and cowards."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

218

His next word was to Cole. " What! three blackguards to
one I That's how Hillsborough fights, ch? "
" I'm not a blackguard," said Henry, faintly.
" That remains to be proved, sir," said Raby, grimly.
Henry made answer by fainting away.
CHAPTER XVI.
WHEN Henry Little came to himself, he was seated on men's
hands, and being carried through the keen refreshing air.
Mr. Raby was striding on in front; the horse's hoofs were
clamping along on the hard road behind; and he himself was
surrounded by swordsmen in fantastic dresses.
He opened his eyes, and thought, of course, it was another
vision. But no, the man, with whose blows his body was sore,
and his right arm utterly numbed, walked close to him between
two sword-dancers, with Raby-marks and Little-marks upon him,
viz. a face spotted with blood, and a black eye.
Little sighed.
" Eh, that's music to me," said a friendly voice close to
him. It was the King George of the lyrical drama, and, out
of poetry, George the blacksmith.
" What, it is you, is it? " said Little.
" Ay, sir, and a joyful man to hear you speak again. The
cowardly varmint! And to think they have all got clear but
this one. Are ye sore hurt, sir? "
" I'm in awful pain, but no bones broken." Then, in a
whisper, " Where are you taking me, George? "
" To Raby Hall," was the whispered reply.
" Not for all the world! If you are my friend, put me
down, and let me slip away."
'Don't ask me, don't ask me," said George, in great distress. " How could I look Squire in the face?  He did put
you in my charge."
" Then I'm a prisoner! " said Henry, sternly.
George hung his head, but made no reply.
Henry also maintained a sullen silence after that.
The lights of Raby came in sight.
That house contained two women, who awaited the result
of the nooturnal expedition with terrible anxiety.



214           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Its fate, they both felt, had been determined before they
even knew that the expedition had started.
They had nothing to do but to wait, and pray that Henry
had made his escape, or else had not been so mad as to attempt
resistance.
In this view of things, the number and even the arms of
his assailants were some comfort to them, as rendering resistance impossible.
As for Mr. Coventry, he was secretly delighted. His conscience was relieved. Raby would now drive his rival out of
the church and out of the county without the help of the Trades,
and his act of treachery and bad faith would be harmless.
Things had taken the happiest possible turn for him.
For all that, this courtier affected sympathy, and even some
anxiety, to please Miss Carden, and divert all suspicion from
himself. But the true ring was wanting to his words, and
both the women felt them jar, and got away from him, and laid
their heads together, in agitated whispers. And the result
was, they put shawls over their heads, and went together out
into the night.
They ran up the road, sighing and clasping their hands,
but no longer speaking.
At the first turn they saw the whole body coming towards
them.
" I'll soon know," said Jael, struggling with her agitation.
"Don't you be seen, Miss; that might anger the Squire; and,
oh, he will be a wrathful man this night, if he caught him
working in yonder church."
Grace then slipped back, and Jael ran on. But no sooner
did she come up with the party, than Baby ordered her back,
in a tone she dared not resist.
She ran back, and told Grace they were carrying him in,
hurt, and the Squire's eyes were like hot coals.
Grace slipped into the drawing-room, and kept the door ajar.
Soon afterwards, Baby, his men, and his prisoners, entered
the hall, and Grace heard Raby say, "Bring the prisoners into
the dining-room."
Grace Carden sat down, and leaned her head upon her hand,
and her little foot beat the ground, all in a flutter.
But this ended in a spirited resolve. She rose, pale, but
firm, and said, "Come with me, Jael; " and she walked straight
into the dining-room. Coventry strolled in after her.
The room was still brilliantly lighted. Mr. Baby was seated



PUT YOURSELF IN IIS 1-LACE.             215
at his writing-table at the far end, and the prisoners, well
guarded, stood ready to be examined.
"You can't come in here," was Mr. Raby's first word to
Grace.
But she was prepared for this, and stood her ground.
" Excuse me, dear uncle, but I wish to see you administer
justice: and, besides, I believe I can tell you something about
one of the prisoners."
" Indeed! that alters the case.  Somebody give Miss
Carden a chair."
She sat down, and fixed her eyes upon Henry Little,--eyes
that said plainly, " I shall defend you, if necessary:" his pale
cheek was flushing at sight of her.
Mr. Raby arranged his papers to make notes, and turned
to Cole. " The charge against you is, that you were seen this
night by several persons engaged in an assault of a cruel and
aggravated character. You, and two other men, attacked and
overpowered an individual here present; and, while he was
helpless, and on the ground, you were seen to raise a heavy
cudgel-(Got the cudgel, George?) "
" Ay, your worship, here 'tis."
" -And to strike him several times on the head and limbs,
with all your force."
"Oh, cruel! cruel "
"This won't do, Miss Carden; no observations, please.
In consequence of which blows he soon after swooned away,
and was for some time unconscious, and --"
"Oh! "
" -For aught I know, may have received some permanent
injury."
"Not he," said Cole; "he's all right. I'm the only man
that is hurt; and I've got it hot; he hit me with his hammer,
and knocked me down like a bullock. He's given me this
black eye too."
"In self-defence, apparently. Which party attacked the
other first? "
" Why they attacked me, of course," said Henry. " Four
of them."
"Four! I saw but three."
" Oh, I settled one at starting, up near the forge. Didn't
you find him?" (This to George.)
" Nay, we found none of the trash but this," indicating
Cole, with a contemptuous jerk of the thumb.



216          PUT YOURSELF IN HTt PLACE,
" Now, don't all speak at once," said Mr. Raby. "My
advice to you is to say nothing, or you'll probably make bad
worse. But if you choose to say anything, I'm bound to hear
it."
" Well, sir," said Cole, in a carneying voice, " what I say
is this: what need we go to law over this?  If you go against
me for hitting him with a stick, after he had hit me with a
blacksmith's hammer, I shall have to go against you for shooting me with a gun."
" That is between you and me, sir. You will find a bystander may shoot a malefactor to save the life of a citizen.
Confine your defence, at present, to the point at issue. Have
you any excuse, as against this young man? "  (To Henry.)
-" You look pale. You can sit down till your turn comes."
"Not in this house."
"And why not in this house, pray?  Is your own house a
better? "
No answer from Henry. A look of amazement and alarm
from Grace. But she was afraid to utter a word, after the
admonition she had received.
SWell, sir," said Cole, " he was desecrating a church."
" So he was, and I shall talk to him in his turn. But you
desecrated it worse. He turned it into a blacksmith's shop;
you turned it into a shambles. I shall commit you. You will
be taken to Hillsborough to-morrow; to-night you will remain
in my strong-room. Fling him down a mattress and some
blankets, and give him plenty to eat and drink; I wouldn't
starve the devil on old Christmas eve. There, take him away.
Stop; search his pockets before you leave him alone."
Cole was taken away, and Henry's turn came.
Just before this examination commenced, Grace clasped her
hands, and cast a deprecating look on Henry, as much as to
say, " Be moderate." And then her eyes roved to and fro,
and the whole woman was in arms, and on the watch.
Mr. Raby began on him. " As for you, your offence is not
so criminal in the eye of the law: but it is bad enough; you
have broken into a church by unlawful means; you have turned
it into a smithy, defiled the graves of the dead, and turned the
tomb of a good knight into an oven, to the scandal of men and
the dishonour of God. Have you any excuse to offer? "
" Plenty. I was plying an honest trade, in a country
where freedom is the law. The Hillsborough Unions combined
against me, and restrained my freedom, and threatened my



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

217

life, ay, and attempted my life too, before to-day: and so the
injustice and cruelty of men drove me to a sanctuary, me and
my livelihood. Blame the Trades, blame the public laws,
blame the useless police: but you can't blame me; a man
must live."
"Why not set up your shop in the village?        Why
wantonly desecrate a church? "
" The church was more secret, and more safe: and nobody
worships in it. The wind and the weather are allowed to
destroy it; you care so little for it you let it moulder; then
why howl if a fellow uses it and keeps it warm? "
At this sally there was a broad rustic laugh, which, however, Mr. Raby quelled with one glance of his eye.
" Come, don't be impertinent," said he to Little.
"Then don't you provoke a fellow," cried Henry, raising
his voice.
Grace clasped her hands in dismay.
Jael Dence said, in her gravest and most mellow voice,
"You do forget the good Squire saved your life this very
night."
This was like oil on all the waters.
" Well, certainly I oughtn't to forget that," said Henry,
apologetically. Then he appealed piteously to Jael, whose
power over him struck everybody directly, including Grace
Carden. "Look here: you mustn't think, because I don't
keep howling, I'm all right. My arm is disabled: my back
is almost broken: my thigh is cut. I'm in sharp pain all
this time: and that makes a fellow impatient of being lectured
on the back of it all. Why doesn't he let me go?  I don't
want to affront him now. All I want is to go and get nursed
a bit somewhere."
" Now that is the first word of reason and common sense
you have uttered, young man. It decides me not to detain
you. All I shall do, under the circumstances, is to clear
your rubbish out of that holy building, and watch it by night
as well as day. Your property, however, shall be collected,
and delivered to you uninjured: so oblige me with your name
and address."
Henry made no reply.
Raby turned his eye full upon him.
" Surely you do not object to teU me your name ~"
" I do."
" Why?"



21I          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Excuse me."
" What are you afraid of?  Do you doubt my word, when
I tell you I shall not proceed against you? "
" No: it is not that at all. But this is no place for me
to utter my father's name. We all have our secrets, sir.
You have got yours. There's a picture, with its face to the
wall. Suppose I was to ask you to tell all the world whose
face it is you insult and hide from the world? "
Raby turned red with wrath and surprise at this sudden
thrust. " You insolent young scoundrel " he cried. " What
is that to you, and what connection can there be between that
portrait and a man in your way of life? "
" There's a close connection," said Henry, trembling with
anger in his turn: " and the proof is that, when that picture
is turned to the light, I'll tell you my name: and, till that
picture is turned to the light, I'll not tell you my name; and
if anybody here knows my name, and tells it you, may that
person's tongue be blistered at the root! "
" Oh, how fearful I " cried Grace, turning very pale.
"But I'll put an end to it all. I've got the key, and I've his
permission, and I'll- oh, Mr. Raby, there's something more
in this than we know,"  She darted to the picture, and unlocked the padlock, and, with Jael's assistance, began to turn
the picture. Then Mr. Raby rose and seemed to bend his
mind inwards, but he neither forbade, nor encouraged, this
impulsive act of Grace Carden's.
Now there was not a man, nor a woman, in the room, whose
curiosity had not been more or less excited about this picture;
so there was a general movement towards it, of all but Mr. Raby,
who stood quite still, turning his eyes inwards, and evidently
much moved, though passive.
There happened to be a strong light upon the picture, and
as soon as it was turned, the lovely olive face, the vivid
features, and glorious black eyes and eyebrows, seemed to
flash out of the canvas into life.
SEven the living faces, being blondes, paled before it, in
the one particular of colour. They seemed fair glittering
moons, and this a glowing sun.
Grace's first feelings were those of simple surprise and
admiration. But, as she gazed, Henry's words returned to
her, and all manner of ideas struck her pell-mell. "Oh,
beautiful! beautiful! " she cried. Then turning to Henry,
" You are right; it was not a face to hide from the world


PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

219

oh! the likeness I just look at him, and then at her! can I
be mistaken? "
This appeal was made to the company, and roused curiosity to a high pitch; every eye began to compare the darkskinned beauty on the wall with the swarthy young man who
now stood there, and submitted in haughty silence to the
comparison.
The words caught Mr. Raby's attention. He made a
start, and elbowing them all out of his way, strode up to
the picture.
"What do you say, Miss Garden?     What likeness can
there be between my sister and a smith? " and he turned and
frowned haughtily on Henry Little.
Henry returned his look of defiance directly.
But that very exchange of defiance brought out another
likeness, which Grace's quick eye seized directly.
"Why, he is still liker you," she cried. " Look, good
people! Look at all three. Look at their great black eyes,
and their brown hair. Look at their dark skins, and their
haughty noses. Oh, you needn't open your nostrils at me,
gentlemen; I am not a bit afraid of either of you.-And then
look at this lovely creature. She is a Raby too, only softened
down by her sweet womanliness. Look at them all three. If
they are not one flesh and blood, I have no eyes."
" Oh yes, Miss; and this lady is his mother. For I have
seen her; and she is a sweet lady; and she told me I had a
Cairnhope face, and kissed me for it."
Upon this from Jael, the general conviction rose into a
hum that buzzed round the room.
Mr. Raby was struck with amazement. At last he turned
slowly upon Henry, and said, with stiff politeness, " Is your
name Little, sir? "
"Little is my name, and I'm proud of it."
SYour name may be Little, but your face is Raby. All
the better for you, sir."
He then turned his back to the young man, and walked
right in front of the picture, and looked at it steadily and
sadly.
It was a simple and natural action, yet somehow done in
so imposing a way, that the bystanders held their breath, to
see what would follow.
He gazed long and steadily on the picture, and his features
worked visibly.



220           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Ay!" he said. " Nature makes no such faces now-a*
days. Poor unfortunate girl I"  And his voice faltered a
moment.
He then began to utter, in a low grave voice, some things
that took everybody by surprise, by the manner as well as the
matter; for, with his never once taking his eyes off the
picture, and speaking in a voice softened by the sudden presence of that womanly beauty, the companion of his youth, it
was just like a man speaking softly in a dream.
" Thomas, this picture will remain as it is while I live."
" Yes, sir."
"I find I can bear the sight of you. As we get older we
get tougher. You look as if you didn't want me to quarrel
with your son?  Well, I will not: there has been quarrelling
enough.   Any of the loyal Dences here? "  But he never
even turned his head from the picture to look for them.
" Only me, sir; Jael Dence, at your service. Father's not
very well."
" Nathan, or Jael, it is all one, so that it is Dence. You'll
take that young gentleman home with you, and send him to
bed. He'll want nursing: for he got some ugly blows, and
took them like a gentleman. The young gentleman has a
fancy for forging things-the Lord knows what. He shall not
forge things in a church, and defile the tombs of his own forefathers; but" (with a groan) "he can forge in your yard.
All the snobs in Hillsborough shan't hinder him, if that is his
cursed hobby. Gentlemen are not to be dictated to by snobs.
Arm three men every night with guns; load the guns with ball,
not small shot, as I did; and, if those ruffians molest him
again, kill them, and then come to me and complain of them.
But, mind you, kill them first-complain afterwards. And now
take half-a-dozen of these men with you, to carry him to the
farm, if he needs it. THERE, EDITH I"
And still he never moved his eyes from the picture, and the
words seemed to drop out of him.
Henry stood bewildered, and, ere he could say anything
that might revive the dormant irritation of Mr. Raby against
him, female tact interposed. Grace clasped her hands to him,
with tears in her eyes; and as for Jael Dence, she assumed
the authority with which she had been invested, and hurried
him bodily away; and the sword-dancers all gathered round
him, and they carried him in triumphant procession, with the
fiddler playing, and George whistling the favourite tune of



PUT YOURSELF LN HIS PLACE.             221
" Raby come home again," while every sturdy foot beat the
hard and ringing road in admirable keeping with that spiritstirring march.
When he was gone, Grace crept up to Mr. Raby, who still
stood before the picture, and eyed it, and thought of his youth.
She took his arm wondrous softly with her two hands, rested
her sweet head against his shoulder, and gazed at it along
with him.
When she had nestled to him some time in this delicate
attitude, she turned her eyes up to him, and murmured, " How
good, how noble you are: and how I love you." Then, all in
a moment, she curled round his neck, and kissed him with a
tender violence, that took him quite by surprise.
As for Mr. Coventry, he had been reduced to a nullity, and
escaped attention all this time: he sat in gloomy silence, and
watched with chilled and foreboding heart the strange turn
events had taken, and were taking; events which he, and no
other man, had set rolling.
CHAPTER       XVII.
FREDERICK COVENTRY, being still unacquainted with the contents of Grace's letter, was now almost desperate.  Grace
Garden, inaccessible to an unknown workman, would she be
inaccessible to a workman, whom Mr. Raby, proud as he was,
had publicly recognized as his nephew?    This was not
to be expected. But something was to be expected, viz.,
that in a few days the door would be closed with scorn in the
face of Frederick Coventry, the miserable traitor, who had
broken his solemn pledge, and betrayed his benefactor to those
who had all but assassinated him. Little would be sure to
suspect him, and the prisoner, when he came to be examined,
would furnish some clue.
A cold perspiration bedewed his very back, when he recollected that the chief constable would be present at Cole's
examination, and supply the link, even if there should be one
missing. He had serious thoughts of leaving the country at
once.
Finding himself unobserved, he walked out of the room
and paced up and down the hall.



82           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
His thoughts now took a practical form. He must bribe
the prisoner to hold his tongue.
But how? and when? and where?
After to-night there might be no opportunity of saying a
word to him.
While he was debating this in his mind, Knight the butler
crossed the hall.
Coventry stopped him, and asked where the prisoner was.
" Where Squire told us to put him, sir."
" No chance of his escaping-I hope?."
" Not he, sir."
" I should like to take a look at him."
Knight demurred, " Well, sir, you see the orders are--
but of course Master won't mind you. I'll speak to him."
" No, it is not worth while. I am only anxious the villain
should be secure." This of course was a feeler.
" Oh, there's no fear of that. Why, he is in the strongroom. It's right above yours. If you'll come with me, sir,
I'll show you the door."
Coventry accompanied him, and Thomas Knight showed
him a strong door, with two enormous bolts outside, both shot,
Coventry felt despair, and affected satisfaction.
Then, after a pause, he said, "But is the window equally
secure? "
" Two iron bars, almost as thick as these bolts: and, if it
stood open, what could he do but break his neck and cheat the
gallows?  He is all right, sir; never you fear. We sarched
him, from head to foot, and found no eend o' tools in his
pockets. He is a deep 'un. But we are Yorkshire, too, as
the saying is. He goes to Hillsbro' town-hall to-morrow; and
glad to be shut on him."
Coventry complimented him, and agreed with him that
escape was impossible.
He then got a light, and went to his own bedroom, and
sat down, cold at heart, before the fire.
He sat in that state, till two o'clock in the morning, distracting his brain with schemes, that were invented only to be
dismissed as idle.
At last an idea came to him. He took his fishing-rod, and
put the thinner joints together, and laid them on the bed. He
then opened his window very cautiously. But, as that made
some noise, he remained quite quiet for full ten minutes. Then
ho got upon the window-seat, and passed the fishing-rod out.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             22a
Ater one or two attempts, he struck the window above with
the fine end.
Instantly he heard a movement above, and a window cau.
tiously opened.
He gave a low " Hem! "
"Who's that? " whispered the prisoner, from above.
"A man who wants you to escape."
"Nay; but I have no tools."
SWhat do you require? "
"I think I could do summut with a screw-driver."
"I'll send you one up."
The next minute a couple of small screw-drivers were
passed up-part of the furniture of his gun.
Cole worked hard, but silently, for about an hour, and then
he whispered down that he should be able to get a bar out.
But how high was it from the ground?
"About forty feet."
Coventry heard the man actually groan at the intelligence.
" Let yourself down on my window-sill. I can find you
rope enough for that."
" What, d'ye take me for a bird, that can light of a gate? "
" But the sill is solid stone, and full a foot wide."
" Say ye so, lad? Then luck is o' my side. Send up rope."
The rope was sent up, and presently was fast to something
above, and dangled down a little past the window-sill.
"Put out a light on sill," whispered the voice above.
"I will."
Then there was a long silence, during which Coventry's
blood ran cold.
As nothing further occurred, he whispered, " What is the
matter? "
" My stomach fails me. Send me up a drop brandy, will
ye? Eh, man, but this is queer work."
" I can't get it up to you; you must drink it here. Come,
--think! It will be five years' penal servitude if you don't."
" Is the rope long enough? "
" Plenty for that."
Then there was another awful silence.
By-and-by a man's legs came dangling down, and Cole
landed on the sill, still holding tight by the rope. He swung
down on the sill, and slid into the room, perspiring and white
with fear.



224          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Coventry gave him some brandy directly,-Cole's trembling
hand sent it flying down his throat, and the two men stared at
each other.
" Why, it is a gentleman I "
" Yes."
"And do you really mean to see me clear? "
"Drink a little more brandy, and recover yourself, and then
I'll tell you."
When the man was fortified and ready for fresh exertions,
Coventry told him he must try and slip out of the house at the
front door; he would lend him a feather and some oil to apply
to the bolts if necessary.
When the plan of operation was settled, Coventry asked
him how long it would take him to get to Hillsborough.
"I can run it in two hours."
" Then if I give the alarm in an hour and a half, it won't
hurt."
" Give me that start and you may send bloodhounds on my
heels; they'll never catch me."
" Now take off your shoes."
While he was taking them off, Cole eyed his unexpected
friend very keenly, and took stock of all his features.
When he was ready, Coventry opened his door very carefully, and placed a light so as to be of some use to the fugitive.
Cole descended the stairs like a cat, and soon found the heavy
bolts and drew them; then slipped out into the night, and away,
with fleet foot and wondering heart, to Hillsborough.
Coventry put out his light and slipped into bed.
About four o'clock in the morning the whole house was
alarmed with loud cries, followed by two pistol-shots: and all
those who ran out of their bed-rooms at all promptly, found
Coventry in his nightgown and trousers, with a smoking pistol
in his hand, which he said he had discharged at a robber. The
account he gave was, that he had been suddenly awakened by
hearing his door shut, and had found his window open; had
slipped on his trousers, got to his pistols, and run out just in
time to see a man opening the great front door: had fired
twice at him, and thought he must have hit him the second time.
On examining the window the rope was found dangling.
Instantly there was a rush to the strong-room.
The bird was flown.
" Ah!" said Coventry. " I felt there ought to be some
one with him. but I didn't like to interfere.'



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             225
George the groom and another were mounted on swift
horses, and took the road to Hillsborough.
But Cole, with his start of a hundred minutes, was safe in
a back slum before they got half way.
What puzzled the servants most was how Cole could have
unscrewed the bar, and where he could have obtained the cord,
And while they were twisting this matter every way, in hot
discussion, Coventry quaked, for he feared his little gunscrews
would be discovered. But no, they were not in the room.
It was a great mystery; but Raby said they ought to have
searched the man's body as well as his pockets.
He locked the cord up, however, and remarked it was a new
one, and had probably been bought in Hillsborough. He would
try and learn where.
At breakfast-time a bullet was found in the door. Coventry
apologized.
" Your mistake was missing the man, not hitting the door,"
said Raby.   "One comfort, I tickled the fellow with small
shot. It shall be slugs next time. All we can do now is to
lay the matter before the police. I must go into Hillsborough,
I suppose."
He went into Hillsborough accordingly, and told the chief
constable the whole story, and deposited the piece of cord with
him. He found that zealous officer already acquainted with
the outline of the business, and on his mettle to discover the
authors and agents of the outrage, if possible. And it occurred
to his sagacity that there was at this moment a workman in
Hillsborough, who must know many secrets of the Trades, and
had now nothing to gain by concealing them.
CHAPTER       XVIII.
THUS the attempt to do Little was more successful than it looks.
Its object was to keep Little and Simmons apart, and sure
enough those two men never met again in life.
But on the other hand, this new crime embittered two able
men against the Union, and put Grotait in immediate peril.
Mr. Ransome conferred with Mr. Holdfast, and they both visited
Simmons, and urged him to make a clean breast before he left
the world,



ZZ0           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Simmons hesitated. He said repeatedly, " Gi' me time I
gi' me time!"
Grotait heard of these visits, and was greatly alarmed. He
set Dan Tucker and another to watch by turns and report.
Messrs. Holdfast and Ransome had an ally inside the house.
Eliza Watney had come in from another town, and had no
Hillsborough prejudices. She was furious at this new outrage
on Little, who had won her regard, and she hoped her brotherin-law would reveal all he knew. Such a confession, she thought,
might remove the stigma from himself to those better-educated
persons, who had made a tool of her poor ignorant relative.
Accordingly, no sooner did the nurse Little had provided
inform her, in a low voice, that there was a change, than she
put on her bonnet, and went in all haste to Mr. Holdfast, and
also to the chief constable, as she had promised them to do.
But of course she could not go without talking. She met
an acquaintance not far from the door, and told her Ned was
near his end, and she was going to tell the gentlemen.
Dan Tucker stepped up to this woman, and she was as
open-mouthed to him as Eliza had been to her. Dan went
directly with the news to Grotait.
Grotait came all in a hurry, but Holdfast was there before
him, and was actually exhorting Simmons to do a good action
in his last moments, and reveal those greater culprits who had
employed him, when Grotait, ill at ease, walked in, sat down at
the foot of the bed, and fixed his eye on Simmons.
Simmons caught sight of him and stared, but said nothing
to him. Yet, when Holdfast had done, Simmons was observed
to look at Grotait, though he replied to the other. " If you
was a Hillsbro' man, you'd know we tell on dead folk, but not
on quick. I told on Ned Simmons, because he was as good as
dead: but to tell on Trade, that's different."
" And I think, my poor fellow," suggested Grotait,
smoothly, " you might spend your last moments better in
telling us what you would wish the Trade to do for your wife,
and the child, if it lives."
" Well, I think ye might make the old gal an allowance till
she marries again."
" Oh, Ned, Ned " cried the poor woman. "I'll have no
man after thee." And a violent burst of grief followed.
" Thou'll do like the rest," said the dying man. "Hold
thy bellering, and let me speak, that's got no time to lose.
IHow much will yer allow her, old lad?"



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.?27
' Six shillings a week, Ned."
" And what is to come of young 'un?"
" We'll apprentice him."
" To my trade? "
" You know better than that, Ned. You are a freeman;
but he won't be a freeman's son by our law, thou know'st. But
there's plenty of outside trades in Hillsbro'. We'll bind him to
one of those, and keep an eye on him for thy sake."
" Well, I must take what I can get."
" And little enough too," said Eliza Watney. " Now do
you know that they have set upon Mr. Little, and beaten him
within an inch of his life?  Oh, Ned, you can't approve that,
and him our best friend."
"Who says I approve it, thou fool? "
" Then tell the gentlemen who the villain was; for I believe
you know."
" I'll tell 'em summut about it."
Grotait turned pale; but still kept his glittering eye fixed
on the sick man.
" The job was offered to me; but I wouldn't be in it. I
know that much. Says I, ' He has had his squeak.' "
" Who offered you the job? " asked Mr. Holdfast. And
at this moment Ransome came in.
"What, another black coat! " said Simmons. " -, if
you are not like so many crows over a dead horse." He then
began to wander, and Holdfast's question remained unanswered.
This aberration continued so long, and accompanied with
such interruptions of the breathing, that both Holdfast and
Ransome despaired of ever hearing another rational word from
the man's lips.
They lingered on however, and still Grotait sat at the foot
of the bed, with his glittering eye fixed on the dying man.
Presently Simmons became silent, and reflected.
" Who offered me the job to do Little? " said he, in a clear
rational voice.
" Yes," said Mr. Holdfast. "And who paid you to blow
up the forge? "
Simmons made no reply. His fast fleeting powers appeared
unable now to hold an idea for above a second or two.
Yet, after another short interval, he seemed to go back a
wocond time to the subject as intelligibly as ever.
"Master Editor! " said he, with a sort of start.
"Yes."   And Holdfast stepped close to his bedside.
Q2



228

PUT YOURSELF IN HIIS PLACE.

" Can you keep a secret?"
Grotait started up.
" Yes! " said Holdfast, eagerly.
" THEN SO CAN I.'
These were the last words of Ned Simmons. He died,
false to himself, but true to his fellows, and faithful to a
terrible confederacy, which, in England and the nineteenth
century, was Venice and the middle ages over again.
CHAPTER XIX.
Mn. COVENTRY, relieved of a great and immediate anxiety,
could now turn his whole attention to Grace Carden; and she
puzzled him. He expected to see her come down beaming
with satisfaction at the great event of last night. Instead of
that she appeared late, with cheeks rather pale, and signs
of trouble under her fair eyes.
As the day wore on, she showed positive distress of mind;
irritable and dejected by turns, and quite unable to settle to
anything.
Mr. Coventry, with all his skill, was quite at fault. He
could understand her being in anxiety for news about Little;
but why not relieve her anxiety by sending a servant to inquire?
Above all, why this irritation? this positive suffering?
A mystery to him, there is no reason why it should be one
to my readers. Grace Carden, for the first time in her life, was
in the clutches of a fiend, a torturing fiend, called jealousy.
The thought that another woman was nursing Henry Little
all this time distracted her. It would have been such heaven
to her to tend him, after those cruel men had hurt him so;
but that pure joy was given to another, and that other loved
him, and could now indulge and show her love. Show it?
Why, she had herself opened his eyes to Jael's love, and
advised him to reward it.
And now she could do nothing to defend herself. The very
improvement in Henry's circumstances held her back. She
could not write to him and say, " Now I know you are Mr.
Raby's nephew, that makes all the difference."  That would
only give him fresh offence, and misrepresent herself; for in
truth she had repented her letter long before the relationship
was discovered.



FPT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

229

No; all she could do was to wait till Jael Dence came up,
and then charge her with some subtle message, that might
make Henry Little pause if he still loved her.
She detected Coventry watching her. She fled directly to
her own room, and there sat on thorns, waiting for her rival
to come and give her an opportunity.
But afternoon came, and no Jael; evening came, and no Jael.
"Ah!" thought Grace, bitterly, " she is better employed
than to come near me. She is not a self-sacrificing fool like
me. When I had the advantage, I gave it up; now she has
got it, she uses it without mercy, decency, or gratitude. And
that is the way to love. Oh! if my turn could but come
again! Bat it never will."
Having arrived at this conclusion, she lay on the couch in
her own room, and was thoroughly miserable.
She came down to dinner, and managed to take a share in
the conversation, but was very languid; and Coventry detected
that she had been crying.
After dinner, Knight brought in a verbal message from Jael
to Mr. Raby, to the effect that the young gentleman was stiff
and sore, and she had sent into Hillsborough for Doctor
Amboyne.
" Quite right of her," said the Squire.  " You needn't
look so alarmed, Grace; there are no bones broken: and he is
in capital hands: he couldn't have a tenderer nurse than that
great strapping lass, nor a better doctor than my friend and
maniac Amboyne."
Next morning, soon after breakfast, Raby addressed his
guests as follows:-" I was obliged to go into Hillsborough
yesterday, and postpone the purification of that sacred building.
But I set a watch on it; and this day I devote to a pious purpose; I'm going to un-Little the church of my forefathers,
and you can come with me, if you choose." This invitation,
however, was given in a tone so gloomy, and so little cordial,
that Coventry, courtier-like, said in reply, he felt it would be
a painful sight to his host, and the fewer witnesses the better.
Raby nodded assent, and seemed pleased. Not so Miss Garden.
She said, " If that is your feeling, you had better stay at home.
I shall go. I have something to tell Mr. Raby when we get
there; and I'm vain enough to think it will make him not quite
so angry about the poor dear old church."
" Then come, by all means," said Raby; " for I'm angry
enough at present."



230           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Before they got half way to the church, they were hailed
from behind; and, turning round, saw the burly figure of
Dr. Amboyne coming after them.
They waited for him, and he came up with them. He had
heard the whole business from Little, and was warm in the
praises of his patient.
To a dry inquiry from Raby, whether he approved of his
patient desecrating a church, he said, with delicious coolness,
he thought there was not much harm in that, the church not
being used for divine service.
At this, Raby uttered an inarticulate but savage growl;"
and Grace. to avert a hot discussion, begged the Doctor not to
go into that question, but to tell her how Mr. Little was.
" Oh, he has received some severe contusions, but there is
nothing serious. He is in good hands, I assure you. I met
him out walking with his nurse; and I must say I never saw
a handsomer couple. He is dark; she is fair.    She is like
the ancient statues of Venus, massive and grand, but not
clumsy; he is lean and sinewy, as a man ought to be."
" Oh, Doctor, this from you?" said Grace, with undisguised spite.
" Well, it was a concession.  He was leaning on her
shoulder, and her face and downcast eyes were turned towards
him so sweetly-said I to myself-Hum! "
"What!" said Raby.      " Would you marry him to a
farmer's daughter? "
" No; I'd let him marry who he likes: only, having seen
him and his nurse together, it struck me that, between two
such fine creatures of the same age, the tender relation of
patient and nurse, sanctioned, as I hear it is, by a benevolent
uncle-"
" Confound your impudence! "
" -   Would hardly stop there. What do you think, Miss
Carden  "
" I'll tell you, if you will promise, on your honour, never
to repeat what I say."   And she slackened her pace, and
lingered behind Mr. Raby.
He promised her.
" Then," she whispered in his ear, " I HATE YOU I "
And her eyes flashed blue fire at him, and startled him.
Then she darted forward, and took Mr. Raby's arm, with a
scarlet face, and a piteous deprecating glance shot back at the
sagacious personage she had defied.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

231I

Dr. Amboyne proceeded instantly to put himself in this
young lady's place, and so divine what was the matter. The
familiar process soon brought a knowing smile to his sly lip.
They entered the church, and went straight to the forge.
Raby stood with folded arms, and contemplated the various
acts of sacrilege with a silent distress that was really touching.
Amboyne took more interest in the traces of the combat.
"Ah I " said he, " this is where he threw the hot coals in their
faces-he has told me all about it. And look at this pool of
blood on the floor! Here he felled one of them with his shovel.
What is this?-traces of blood leading up to this chest 1"
He opened the chest, and found plain proofs inside that
the wounded man had hid himself in it for some time. He
pointed this out to Raby; and gave it as his opinion that the
man's confederates had come back for him, and carried him
away. " These fellows are very true to one another. I have
often admired them for that."
Raby examined the blood-stained interior of the chest, and
could not help agreeing with the sagacious doctor.
"Yes," said he, sadly; "if we had been sharp, we might
have caught the blackguard. But I was in a hurry to leave
the scene of sacrilege. Look here; the tomb of a good knight
defiled into an oven, and the pews mutilated-and all for the
base uses of trade." And in this strain he continued for a long
time so eloquently that, at last, he roused Grace Carden's ire.
"1 Mr. Raby," said she, firmly, " please to add to those
base uses one more. One dismal night two poor creatures, a
man and a woman, lost their way in the snow; and, after many
a hard struggle, the cold and the snow overpowered them, and
death was upon them. But, just at her last gasp, the girl saw
a light, and heard the tinkling of a hammer. She tottered
towards it; and it was a church. She just managed to strike
the door with her benumbed hands, and then fell insensible.
When she came to herself, gentle hands had laid her before
two glorious fires in that cold tomb there. Then the same
gentle hands gave her food and wine, and words of comfort, and
did everything for her that brave men do for poor weak suffering
women. Yes, sir, it was my life he saved, and Mr. Coventry's
too; and I can't bear to hear a word against him, especially
while I stand looking at his poor forge, and his grates, that
you abuse; but I adore them, and bless them; and so would
you, if they had saved your life, as they did mine. You don't
love me one bit: and it is very cruel."



232           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Raby stood astonished and silent. At last he said, in a
very altered tone, quite mild and deprecating, " Why did you
not tell me this before? "
"Because he made us promise not.      Would you have
had me betray my benefactor?"
" No. You are a brave girl, an honest girl. I love you
more than a bit, and, for your sake, I forgive him the whole
thing. I will never call it sacrilege again, since its effect was
to save an angel's life. Come, now, you have shown a proper
spirit, and stood up for the absent, and brought me to submission by your impetuosity, so don't spoil it all by crying."
" No, I won't," said Grace, with a gulp. But her tears
would not cease all in a moment. She had evoked that tender
scene, in which words and tears of true and passionate love
had rained upon her. They were an era in her life; had
swept for ever out of her heart all the puny voices that had
prattled what they called love to her; and that divine music,
should she ever hear it again? She had resigned it, had bade
it shine upon another. For this, in reality, her tears were
trickling.
Mr. Raby took a much lighter view of it, and, to divert
attention from her, he said, " Hallo! why this inscription has
become legible. It used to be only legible in parts. Is that
his doing? "
" Not a doubt of it," said Amboyne. " Set that against
his sacrilege."
" Miss Carden and I are both agreed it was not sacrilege.
What is here in this pew?  A brass! Why, this is the brass
we could none of us decipher. Hang me, if he has not read
it, and restored it! "
" So he has. And where's the wonder?     We live in a
glorious age " (Raby smiled) " that has read the written mountains of the East, and the Abyssinian monuments: and he is
a man of the age, and your mediaeval brasses are no more to
him than cuneiform letters to Rawlinson. Let me read this
resuscitated record. ' Edith Little, daughter of Robert Raby,
by Leah Dence his wife:' why here's a hodge-podge! What
have the noble Rabys intermarried with the humble Dences?"
"So it seems. A younger son."
"And a Raby, daughter of Dence, married a Little three
hundred years ago?"
" So it seems."
" Then what a pity this brass was not deciphered thirty



PUT 'YOURSELF 114 IHIS PLACE.23

233

years ago. But never mind that. All I demand is tardy justice
to my prot6ge. Is not this a remarkable man?  By day he
carves wood, and carries out a philanthropic scheme (which I
mean to communicate to you this very day, together with this
young man's report); at night he forges tools that all Hillsborough can't rival; in an interval of his work he saves a valuable life or two; in another odd moment he fights like a lion,
one to four; even in his moments of downright leisure, when
he is neither saving life nor taking it, he practises honourable
arts, restores the fading letters of a charitable bequest, and
deciphers brasses, and vastly improves his uncle's genealogical
knowledge, who, nevertheless, passed for an authority, till my
Crichton stepped upon the scene."
Raby bore all this admirably. "You may add," said he,
" that he nevertheless finds time to correspond with his friends.
Here is a letter, addressed to Miss Carden, I declare 1"
" A letter to me! " said Grace, faintly.
Raby handed it over the pew to her, and turned the address,
so that she could judge for herself.
She took it very slowly and feebly, and her colour came
and went.
" You seem surprised; and so am I. It must have been
written two days ago."
" Yes."
"Why, what on earth could he have to say to you? "
" I suppose it is the reply to mine," stammered Grace.
Mr. Raby looked amazement, and something more.
Grace faltered out an explanation. " When he had saved
my life, I was so grateful I wanted to make him a return. I
believed Jael Dence and he-I have so high an opinion of her
-I ventured to give him a hint that he might find happiness
there."
Raby bit his lip. "A most singular interference on the
part of a young lady," said he stiffly. " You are right, Doctor;
this age resembles no other. I suppose you meant it kindly;
but I am very sorry you felt called upon, at your age, to put
any such idea into the young man's head."
" So am I," said poor Grace. " Oh, pray forgive me. I
am so unhappy." And she hid her face in her hands.
"Of course I forgive you," said Raby.   " But, unfortunately, I knew nothing of all this, and went and put him
under her charge; and here he has found a precedent for
marrying a Dence- Oound it on this confounded brass I Well,



234

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

no matter. Life is one long disappointment. What does he
say?  Where is the letter gone to?  It has vanished."
"I have got it safe," said Grace, deprecatingly.
" Then please let me know what he says."
"What, read his letter to you? "
" Why not, pray?  I'm his uncle. He is my heir-at-law.
I agree with Amboyne, he has some fine qualities. It is foolish
of me, no doubt, but I am very anxious to know what he says
about marrying my tenant's daughter." Then, with amazing
dignity, " Can I be mistaken in thinking I have a right to
know who my nephew intends to marry? "  And he began to
get very red.
Grace hung her head, and, trembling a little, drew the
letter very slowly out of her bosom.
It just flashed through her mind how cruel it was to make
her read out the death-warrant of her heart before two men
but she summoned all a woman's fortitude and self-defence,
prepared to hide her anguish under a marble demeanour, and
quietly opened the letter.
CHAPTER XX.
" You advise me to marry one, when I love another; and this,
you think, is the way to be happy. It has seldom proved so,
and I should despise happiness, if I could only get it in that
way.                   Yours, sadly but devotedly,
"H. LITTLE.
"Will you wait two years? "
Grace, being on her defence, read this letter very slowly,
and as if she had to decipher it. That gave her time to say,
" Yours, etcetera," instead of " sadly and devotedly."  (Why
be needlessly precise?)  As for the postscript, she didn't
trouble them with that at all.
She then hurried the letter into her pocket, that it might
not be asked for, and said, with all the nonchalance she could
manage to assume, " Oh, if he loves somebody else!"
"No; that is worse still," said Mr. Raby. "In his own
rank of life, it is ten to one if he finds anything as modest, as
good, and as loyal as Dence's daughter. It's some factorygirl, I suppose."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             2W5
"Let us hope not," said Grace, demurely; but Amboyne
noticed that her cheek was now flushed, and her eyes sparkling
like diamonds.
Soon afterwards she strolled apart, and took a wonderful
interest in the monuments and things, until she found an opportunity to slip out into the churchyard. There she took the
letter out, and kissed it again and again, as if she would devour
it; and all the way home bhe was as gay as a lark. Amboyne
put himself in her place.
When they got home, he said to her, "My dear Miss
Carden, I have a favour to ask you. I want an hour's conversation with Mr. Raby. Will you be so very kind as to see
that I am not interrupted? "
"Oh yes. No; you must tell me first, what you are going
to talk about. I can't have gentlemen talking nonsense together, uninterruptedly."
" You ladies claim to monopolize nonsense, eh? Well, I
am going to talk about my friend, Mr. Little. Is he nonsense? "
"That depends.    What are you going to say about
him? "
"Going to advance his interests -and my own hobby.
Such is man."
" Never mind what is man: what is your hobby?"
" Saving idiotic ruffians' lives."
" Well, that is a hobby. But, if Mr. Little is to profit by
it, never mind; you shall not be interrupted, if I can keep ' les
facheux' away."
Accordingly fshe got her work, and sat in the hall. Here,
as she expected, she was soon joined by Mr. Coventry, and he
found her in a gracious mood, and in excellent spirits.
After some very pleasant conversation, she told him she was
keeping sentinel over Dr. Amboyne and his hobby.
" What is that?"
" Saving idiotic ruffians' lives. Ha! ha! ha! "
Her merry laugh rang through the hall like a peal of bells.
Coventry stared, and then gave up trying to understand
her and her eternal changes. He just set himself to please her,
and he never found it easier than that afternoon.
Meantime Dr. Amboyne got Raby alone, and begged leave,
in the first place, to premise that his (Raby's) nephew was a
remarkable man. To prove it, he related Little's whole battle
with the Hillsborough trades; and then produced a Report the
young man had handed him that very day. It was actually in



236          PUT YOUtSIELI IN HIS PLACE.
his pocket during the fight, mute protest against that barbarous act.
The Report was entitled" LIFE, LABOUR, AND CAPITAL IN HILLSBOROUGH."
And was divided into two parts.
Part 1 was entitled" PECULIARITIES OF CUTLERY HURTFUL TO LIFE AND HEALTHI.
And Part 2 was entitled" THE REMEDIES TO THE ABOVE."
Part 2 was divided thus:A. What the masters could do.
B. What the workmen could do.
C. What the Legislature could do.
Part 1 dealt first with the diseases of the grinders; but,
instead of quoting it, I ask leave to refer to chapter 9, where
the main facts lie recorded.
Having thus curtailed the Report, I print the remainder in
an Appendix, for the use of those few readers who can endure
useful knowledge in works of this class.
Raby read the Report without moving a muscle.
"Well, what do you think of him?" asked Amboyne.
"I think he is a fool to trouble his head whether these
animals live or die."
" Oh, that is my folly, not his. At bottom, he cares no
more than you do."
" Then I retract my observation."
" As to its being folly, or as to Little being the fool?"
" Whichever you like best."
"Thank you. Well, but to be serious, this young man is
very anxious to be a master, instead of a man. What do you
say?  Will you help his ambition, and my sacred hobby?"
" What, plunge you deeper in folly, and him in trade?
Not I. I don't approve folly; I hate trade. But I tell you
what I'll do. If he and his mother can see my conduct in its
proper light, and say so, they can come to Baby, and he can
0



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             137
turn gentleman, take the name of Raby, as he has got the face,
and be my heir."
" Are you serious, Raby?"
" Perfectly."
" Then you had better write it, and I'll take It to him."
" Certainly."  He sat down and wrote as follows:" SI,-What has recently occurred appears calculated to
soften one of those animosities which, between persons allied
in blood, are always to be regretted. I take the opportunity
to say, that if your mother, under your advice, will now reconsider the duties of a trustee, and my conduct in that character,
and her remarks on that conduct, I think she will do me
justice, and honour me once more with her esteem. Should
this be the result, I further hope that she and yourself will
come to Raby, and that you will change that way of life, which
you have found so full of thorns, and prepare yourself to succeed
to my name and place.
" I am, your obedient servant,
" GUY RABY."
" There, read that."'
Amboyne read it, and approved it. Then he gave a sigh,
and said, " And so down goes my poor hobby."
" Oh, never mind," said Raby; "you've got one or two
left in your stable."
Doctor Amboyne went out, and passed through the hall.
There he found Mr. Coventry and Miss Garden: the latter
asked him, rather keenly, if the conference was over.
" Yes, and not without a result: I'll read it to you."
He did so, and Grace's cheek was dyed with blushes, and her
eyes beamed with joy.
" Oh, how noble he is, and how good you are. Run!
Fly "
" Such movements are undignified, and unsuited to my
figure. Shall I roll down the hill? That would be my quickest
way."
This discussion was cut short by a servant, who came to
tell the Doctor that a carriage was ordered for him, and would
be round in a minute.
Doctor Amboyne drove off, and Miss Garden now avoided
Coventry: she retired to her room. But, it seems, she was on
the watch; for, on the Doctor's return, she was the person who
met him in the hall.



238          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
SWell? " said she, eagerly.
" Well, would you believe it? he declines. He objects to
leave his way of life, and to wait for dead men's shoes."
" Oh, Doctor Amboyne    And you were there to advise
him I"
" I did not venture to advise him. There was so much to
be said on both sides."  Then he went off to Raby, with the
note; but, as he went, he heard Grace say, in a low voice,
' Ah, you never thought of me."
Little's note ran thus:" Sm,-I thank you for your proposal, and, as to the first part
of it, I quite agree, and should be glad to see my mother and
you friends again. But, as to my way of life, I have chosen
my path, and mean to stick to it. I hope soon to be a master,
instead of a workman; and I shall try and behave like a gentleman, so that you may not have to blush for me. Should
blush for myself if I were to give up industry, and independence, and take to waiting for dead men's shoes; that is a baser
occupation than any trade in Hillsborough, I think. This is
not as politely written as I could wish; but I am a blunt fellow,
and I hope you will excuse it. I am not ungrateful to you
for shooting those vermin, nor for your offer, though I cannot
accept it.
" Yours respectfully,
"I HENRY LITTLE."
Raby read this, and turned white with rage.
He locked the letter up along with poor Mrs. Little'a
letters, and merely said, "I have only one request to make.
Never mention the name of Little to me again."
Doctor Amboyne went home very thoughtful.
That same day Mr. Garden wrote from London to his
daughter, informing her that he should be at Hillsborougb
next day to dinner. She got the letter next morning, and
showed it to Mr. Raby. He ordered his carriage after breakfast for Hillsborough.
This was a blow to Grace. She had been hoping all this
time a fair opportunity might occur for saying something to
young Little.
She longed to write to him, and set his heart, and her
own, at rest. But a great shyness and timidity paralysed her,
and she gave up the idea of writing, and had hitherto been



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

289

hoping they might meet, and she might reinstate herself by
eome one cunning word. And now the end of it all was, that
sne was driven away from Raby Hall without doing anything
but wish, and sigh, and resolve, and give up her resolutions
with a blush.
The carriage passed the farm on its way to Hillsborough.
This was Grace's last chance.
Little was standing at the porch.
A thrill of delight traversed Grace's bosom.
It was followed, however, by a keen pang. Jael Dence
sat beside him, sewing: and G(race saw, in a moment, she
was sewing complacently. It was more than Grace could bear
She pulled the check-string, and the carriage stopped.
CHAPTER       XXI.
HENRY LITTLE, at this moment, was in very low spirits. His
forge was in the yard, and a faithful body-guard at his service:
but his right arm was in a sling, and so he was brought to a
stand-still; and Coventry was with Grace at the house; and
he, like her, was tortured with jealousies; and neither knew
what the other suffered.
But everything vanished in a flood of joy, when the
carriage stopped, and that enchanting face looked out at him,
covered with blushes, that told him he could not be indifferent
to her.
" Oh, Mr. Little, are you better?"
"I'm all right. But, you see, I can't work."
"Ah, poor arm! But why should you work?     Why not
accept Mr. Raby's offer? How proud you are! "
" Should you have thought any better of me, if I had? "
"No. I don't want you altered. It would spoil you.
You will come and see us at Woodbine Villa?  Only think
how many things we have to talk of now."
"May I?"
"Why of course."
"And will you wait two years for me? "
" Two years! " (blushing like a rose.) " Why I hope It
will not be two days, before you come and see us."
S" Ah, you mock me."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE4

"No; no. But suppose you should take the advice I
gave you in my mad letter? "
" There's no fear of that."
"Are you sure?" (with a glance at Jael.)
" Quite sure."
"Then--        Good-by. Please drive on."
She wouldn't answer his question; but her blushes and
her radiant satisfaction, and her modest but eloquent looks of
love, fully compensated her silence on that head, and the
carriage left him standing there, a figure of rapture.
Next day Dr. Amboyne rode up to the farm with a long
envelope, and waved it over his head in triumph. It con.
tained a communication from the secretary of the Philanthropic
Society. The committee were much struck with Mr. Little's
report, but feared that no manufacturer would act on his
suggestions. They were willing to advance 5001. t wards
setting Mr. Little himself up as a manufacturer, if he would
bind himself to adopt and carry out the improvements suggested in his report. The loan to bear no interest, and the
return of the capital to depend upon the success of the scheme.
Dr. Amboyne, for the society, to have the right of inspecting
Mr. Little's books, if any doubt should arise on that head.
An agreement was enclosed, and this was more full, particular,
and stringent in form than the above, but the purport substantially the same.
Little could not believe his good fortune at first. But
there was no disbelieving it; the terms were sd cold, precise,
and business-like.
" Ah, Doctor," said he, "you have made a man of me;
for this is your doing I know."
" Of course I used my influence. I was stimulated by two
spurs, friendship and my hobby. Now shake hands over it,
and no fine speeches, but tell me when you can begin. 'My
soul's in arms, and eager for the fray.' "
"Begin?    Why as soon as I get the money."
"That will come down directly, if I telegraph that you
accept the terms. Call in a witness and sign the agreement."
Jael Dence was called in, and the agreement signed and
witnessed, and away went the Doctor in high spirits, after
making an appointment with Henry in Hillsborough for the
next day.
Henry and Jael Dence talked eagerly over his new prospects. But though they were great friends, there was nothing



PUT VC TtISELF 1I  HIS PLAOCI.         241
to excite Grace's jealousy. No sooner was Little proved to
be Raby's nephew than Jael Dence, in her humility, shrank
back, and was inwardly ashamed of herself.   She became
tespectful as well as kind; called him "the young master"
behind his back, and tried to call him " Sir " to his face, only
he would not let her.
Next day Little went to his mother and told her all. She
was deeply interested, but bitterly disappointed at Henry's
refusal of Iaby's offer. " He will never forgive us now," she
said. " And oh, Henry, if you love Grace Garden, that was
the way to marry her."  This staggered him; but he said he
had every reason to hope she would marry him without his
sacrificing his independence, and waiting with his hands in his
pockets for dead men's shoes,
Then he went to Dr. Amboyne, and there were the five
hundred pounds waiting for him; but, never having possessed
such a sum before, be begged the Doctor to give him only
1001. at a time. To finish for the present with this branch
of the story, he was lucky enough to make an excellent
bargain, bought the plant and stock of a small master-grinder
recently deceased. He then confined the grinding to saws
and razors; and this enabled him to set up his own forge on
the premises, and to employ a few file-cutters. It was all he
could do at starting. Then came the important question,
What would the Trades say?  He was not long in suspense;
Grotait called on him, expressed his regret at the attack that
had been made on him, and his satisfaction that now the
matter could be happily arranged. " This," said he, "is the
very proposal I was going to make to you, (but you wouldn't
hear me,) to set up as a small master, and sell your carvingtools to London instead of Hillsbro'."
" What? will that make me right with the Trade? "
"Pretty near.   We protect the workmen from    unfair
competition, not the masters. However, if you wish to cure
the sore altogether, let your own hands grind the tools, and
send them out to be handled by Parkin: he has got men oi
the box; trade is dull."
" Well, I don't object to that."
" Then, I say, let bygones be gone-byes."
They shook hands over this, and in a very few hours it
was known that Mr. Little was right with the Trade.
His early experiences as a philanthropic master wore
rather curious; but I shall ask leave to relate them in a sorioe



S242

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

of their own, and to deal at present with matters of moir
common interest.
He called twice on Grace Carden; but she was out. The
third time he found her at home; but there was a lady with
her, talking about the ball Mr. and Miss Carden were about
to give. It was a subject calculated to excite volubility, and
Henry could not get in a word edgeways. But he received
some kind glances that made his heart beat.
The young lady sat there and gabbled; for she felt sure that
no topic imported by a male creature could compete in interest
with "the ball."  So, at last, Henry rose in despair. But
Grace, to whom her own ball had been a bore for the last halfhour, went with him to the door; and he seized the opportunity
to tell her he was a workman no longer, but a master, having
workmen under him.
Grace saw he was jubilant, so she was glad directly, and
said so.
But then she shook her pretty head, and hoped he would
not have to regret Mr. Raby's offer.
" Never," said he, firmly; " unless I lose you. Now I'm
a master, instead of a man, won't you wait two years for me? "
"No," said Grace, archly. Then, with a look that sent
him to heaven, "Not two, but twenty, sooner than you should
be unhappy, after all you and I-"
The sentence was never completed  She clapped one hand
swiftly before her scarlet face, and ran away to hide, and think
of what she had done. It was full five minutes before she
would bring her face under the eye of that young gossip in
the drawing-room.
As for Henry, he received the blow full in his heart, and it
quite staggered him. He couldn't believe it at first; but when
he realized it, waves and waves of joy seemed to rise inside
him, and he went off in such a rapture he hardly trod the earth.
He went home, and kissed his mother, and told her, and
she sympathized with him perforce, though she was jealous at
bottom, poor thing.
The next day Grace received an unexpected visitor-Jael
Dence.
Grace stared at sight of her, and received her very coldly.
" Oh, Miss," said Jael, " don't look so at mne that love you
dearly;" and with this threw her arms round her neck, and
kissed her



tPJT YOURSELF IN TIIS PMLAC1.           243
Grace was moved by this; but felt uncomfortable, and even
struggled a little, but in vain. Jael was gentle, but mighty.
"It's about your letter, Miss."
"Then let me go," cried Grace. "I wish I had never
written it."
" Nay; don't say so. I should never have known how
good you are."
" What a fool I am, you mean. How dare you read my
letter?  Ohi! did he show it you?  That was very cruel, if
he did."
"No, Miss, he never showed it me; and I never read
it. I call it mean to read another body's letter. But, you
know, 'tisn't every woman thinks so; and a poor lass that is
very fond of me-and I scolded her bitterly-she took the
letter out of his pocket, and told me what was in it."
"Very well then," said Grace, coldly, "it is right you
should also read his answer. I'll bring it you."
" Not to-day, Miss, if you please. There is no need. I
know him: he is too much of a man to marry one girl when
he loves another; and 'tis you he loves, and I hope you will be
happy together."
A few quiet tears followed these brave words, and Grace
looked at her askant, and began to do her justice.
" Ah! " said she, with a twinge of jealousy, " you know
him better than I. You have answered for him, in his very
words. Yet you can't love him as I do. I hope you are not
come to ask me to give him up again, for I can't."  Then she
said, with quick defiance, " Take him from me if you can."
Then, piteously, " And if you do, you will kill me."
"Dear heart, I came of no such errand. I came to tell
you I know how generous you have been to me, and made me
your friend till death; and, when a Dence says that, she means
it. I have been a little imprudent: but not so very. First
word I said to him, in this very house, was, 'Are you really a
workman? ' I had the sense to put that question; for, the
first moment I clapped eyes on him, I saw my danger like.
Well, he might have answered me true: but you see he didn't.
I think I am not so much to blame. Well, he is the young
Squire now, and no mate for me; and he loves you, that are of
his own sort. That is sure to cure me-after a while. Simple
folk like me aren't used to get their way, like the gentry. It
takes a deal of patience to go through the world. If you think
I'll let my heart cling to another woman's sweetheart--nay,
S2



214          VtJT YOUtSELF IN HiS PLACi.
but I'd tear it out of my breast first. Yes, I dare say it will
be a year or two before I can listen to another man's voice
without hating him for wooing of me; but Time cures all that
don't fight against the cure. And you'll love me a little, Miss,
now, won't you? You used to do, before I deserved it half as
well as I do to-day."
" Of course I shall love you, my poor Jael. But what is
my love, compared with that you are now giving up so nobly?"
" It is not much," said Jael, frankly; " but 'a little breaks
a high fall.' And I'm one that can only enjoy my own. Better
u penny roll with a clear conscience than my neighbour's loaf.
I'd liever take your love, and deserve it, than try to steal his."
All this time Grace was silently watching her, to see if
there was any deceit, or self-deceit, in all this: and, had there
been, it could not have escaped so keen and jealous an eye.
But no, the limpid eye, the modest, sober voice, that trembled
now and then, but always recovered its resolution, repelled
doubt or suspicion.
Grace started to her feet, and said, with great enthusiasm,
"I give you the love and respect you deserve so well; and I
thank God for creating such a character now and then-to embellish this vile world."
Then she flung herself upon Jael, with wonderful abandon
and grace, and kissed her so eagerly that she made poor Jael's
tears flow very fast indeed.
She would not let her go back to Cairnhope.
Henry remembered about the ball, and made up his mind
to go and stand in the road: he might catch a glimpse of her
somehow.   He told his mother he should not be home to
sapper; and, to get rid of the time before the ball, he went to
the theatre: thence, at ten o'clock, to " Woodbine Villa," and
soon found himself one of a motley group. Men, women, and
children were there to see the company arrive: and as, amongst
working-people, the idle and the curious are seldom well-to-do,
they were rather a scurvy lot, and each satin or muslin belle,
brave with flowers, and sparkling with gems, had to pass
through a little avenue of human beings in soiled fustian, dislocated bonnets, rags, and unwashed faces.
Henry got awa from this class of spectators, and took up
his station right across the road. l e leaned against the lamppost, and watched the drawing-room windows for Grace.
The windows were ] ~rge, and, being, French came down to
-60     <6A 6,p



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

245

the balcony.   Little saw many a lady's head and white
shenlders, but not the one he sought.
Presently a bed-room window was opened, and a fair face
looked out into the night for a moment. It was Jael Dence.
She had assisted Miss Carden to dress, and had then, at
her request, prepared the room, and decked it with flowers, to
receive a few of the young lady's more favoured friends. This
done, she opened the window, and Henry Little saw her.
Nor was it long before she saw him; for the light of the
lamp was full on him.
But he was now looking intently in at the drawing-room
windows, and with a ghastly expression.
The fact is, that in the short interval between his seeing
SJael and her seeing him, the quadrilles had been succeeded by
a waltz, and Grace Carden's head and shoulders were now
flitting, at intervals, past the window in close proximity to the
head of her partner. What with her snowy, glossy shoulders,
her lovely face, and her exquisite head and brow encircled with
a coronet of pearls, her beauty seemed half regal, half angelic;
yet that very beauty, after the first thrill of joy which the
sudden appearance of a beloved one always causes, was now
passing cold iron through her lover's heart. For why?  A
man's arm was round that supple waist, a man's hand held
that delicate palm, a man's head seemed wedded to that lovely
head, so close were the two together. And the encircling arm,
the pressing hand, the head that came and went, and rose and
sank, with hers, like twin cherries on a stalk, were the arm,
the hand, and the head, of Mr. Frederick Coventry.
Every time those two heads flitted past the window together,
they inflicted a spasm of agony on Henry Little, and, between
the spasms, his thoughts were bitter beyond expression. An
icy barrier still between them, and none between his rival and
her I Coventry could dance voluptuously with her before all
the world; but he could only stand at the door of that Paradise,
and groan and sicken with jealous anguish at the sight.
Now and then he looked up, and saw Jael Deuce. She was
alone. Like him, she was excluded from that brilliant crowd.
He and she were born to work; these butterflies on the first
floor, to enjoy.
Their eyes met; he saw soft pity in hers. He cast a mute,
but touching, appeal. She nodded, and withdrew from the
window. Then he knew the faitlful girl wquld try qud dg
p.mcthing or other for hium,



246          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
But he never moved from his pillar of torture. Jealous
agony is the one torment men cannot fly from; it fascinates, it
holds, it maddens.
Jael came to the drawing-room door just as the waltz
ended, and tried to get to Miss Garden; but there were too
many ladies and gentlemen, especially about the door.
At last she caught Grace's eye, but only for a moment;
and the young lady was in the very act of going out on the
balcony for air, with her partner.
She did go out, accompanied by Mr. Coventry, and took
two or three turns. Her cheek was flushed, her eye kindled,
and the poor jealous wretch over the way saw it, and ascribed
all that to the company of his rival.
While she walked to and fro with fawn-like grace, conversing with Mr. Coventry, yet secretly wondering what that
strange look Jael had given her could mean, Henry leaned,
sick at heart, against the lamp-post over the way; and, at last,
a groan forced its way out of him.
Faint as the sound was, Grace's quick ear caught it, and
she turned her head. She saw him directly, and blushed high,
and turned pale, all in a moment; for, in that single moment,
her swift woman's heart told her why he was so ghastly, and
why that sigh of distress.
She stopped short in her walk, and began to quiver from
head to foot.
But, after a few moments of alarm, distress, and perplexity,
lbve and high spirit supplied the place of tact, and she did the
best and most characteristic thing she could. Just as Mr.
Coventry, who had observed her shiver, was asking her if she
found it too cold, she drew herself up to her full height, and,
turning round, kissed her hand over the balcony to Henry
Little, with a sort of princely grandeur, and an ardour of
recognition and esteem that set his heart leaping, and his pale
cheek blushing, and made Coventry jealous in his turn. Yes,
one eloquent gesture did that in a moment.
But the brave girl was too sensitive to prolong such a
situation: the music recommenced at that moment, and she
seized the opportunity, and retired to the room; she curtsied
to Little at the window, and this time he had the sense to lift
his hat to her.
The moment she entered the -r6o5mrace Garden slipped
away from Mr. Coventry, and winded her way like a serpent,
through the crowd, and found Jael Dence at the door. She



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

247

caught her by the arm, and pinched her. She was all trembling.
Jael drew her up the stairs a little way.
" You have seen hin out there? "
"Yes: and I-    Oh! "
" There! there! Think of the folk. Fight it down."
" I will. Go to him, and say I can't bear it. Him, to
stand there-while those I don't care a pin for- Oh, Jael,
for pity's sake, get him home to his mother."
" There, don't you fret. I know what to say."
Jael went down; borrowed the first shawl she could lay her
hand on: hooded herself with it, and was across the road in a
moment.
" You are to go home directly."
" Who says so? "
" She does."
" What, does she tell me to go away, and leave her to
imn? "
" What does that matter? her heart goes with you."
" No, no."
" Won't you take my word for it? I'm not given to lying."
" I know that. Oh, Jael, sweet, pretty, good-hearted Jael,
have pity on me, and tell me the truth: is it me she loves, or
that Coventry? "
" It is you."
" Oh, bless you! bless you! Ah, if I could only be sure
of that, what wouldn't I do for her? But, if she loves me,
why, why, send me away? It is very cruel that so many should
be in the same room with her, and he should dance with her,
and I must not even look on, and catch a glimpse of her now
and then. I won't go home."
" Ah," said Jael, " you are like all the young men; you
think only of yourself. And you call yourself a scholar of the
good Doctor's."
"And so I am."
" Then why don't you go by his rule, and put yourself in a
body's place?  Suppose you was in her place, master of this
house like, and dancing with a pack of girls you didn't care for,
and she stood out here, pale, and sighing; and suppose things
were so, that you couldn't come out to her, nor she come in to
you, wouldn't it cut you to the heart to see her stand in the
street and look so unhappy-poor lad?  Be good, now, and
go home to thy mother. Why stand here and poison the poor
young lady's pleasure-such as 'tis-and torment thyself?"



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Jael's own eyes filled, and that proof of sympathy inclined
Henry all the more to listen to her reason. " You are wise,
and good, and kind," he said. " But oh, Jael, I adore her so,
I'd rather be in hell with her than in heaven without her. Halt
a loaf is better than no bread. I can't go home and turn m)
back on the place where she is. Yes, I'm in torments; but 1
see her. They can't rob my eyes of her."
" To oblige her!"
"Yes; I'll do anything to oblige her. If I could only
believe she loves me."
" Put it to the proof, if you don't believe me."
"I will. Tell her I'd much rather stay all night, and
catch a glimpse of her now and then; but yet, tell her I'll go
home, if she will promise me not to dance with that Coventry
again."
" There is a condition! " said Jael.
" It is a fair one," said Henry, doggedly, " and I won't go
from it."
Jael looked at him, and saw it was no use arguing the
matter. So she went into the house with his ultimatum.
She soon returned, and told him that Miss Grace, instead
of being angry, as she expected, had smiled and looked pleased,
and promised not to dance with Mr. Coventry, nor anybody else
any more that night, "if he would go straight home and consult his beautiful mother." " Those were her words," said the
loyal Dence. " She did say them twice over to make sure."
" God bless her I" cried Henry, warmly; "and bless you,
too, my best friend. I'll go this moment."
He cast a long, lingering look at the window, and went
slowly down the street.
When he got home, his mother was still up and secretly
anxious.
He sat down beside her, and told her where he had been
and how it had all ended.  " I'm to consult my beautiful
mother," said he, kissing her.
" What, does she think I am like my picture now? "
"I suppose so. And you are as beautiful as ever in my
eyes, mother. And I do consult you."
Mrs. Little's black eyes flashed; but she said, calmly,--
" What about, dearest? "
" I really don't know. I suppose it was about what hap.
pened to-night. Perhaps about it all."
Mro, Little leaned her head upon her hand, and thought,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS8 PlACE2

249

After a moment's reflection, she said to Henry, rather
coldly, "If she is not a very good girl, she must be a very
clever one."
" She is both," said Henry, warmly.
" Of that I shall be the best judge," said Mrs. Little, very
coldly indeed.
Poor Henry felt quite chilled. He said no more; nor did
his mother return to the subject till they parted for the night
and then it was only to ask him what church Miss Carden weni,
to-a question that seemed to be rather frivolous, but he said
he thought St. Margaret's.
Next Sunday evening, Mrs. Little and he being at tea
together, she said to him quietly,-" Well, Harry, I have
seen her."
" Oh, mother! where?"
" At St. Margaret's Church."
" But how did you know her?  By her beauty?"
Mrs. Little smiled, and took a roll of paper out of her muff,
that lay on the sofa. She unfolded it, and displayed a drawing.
It represented Grace Garden in her bonnet, and was a very
good likeness.
The lover pounced on it, and devoured it with astonishment
and delight.
" Taken from the bust, and retouched from nature," said
Mrs. Little. " Yes, dear, I went to St. Margaret's, and asked
a pew-opener where she sat. I placed myself where I could
command her features; and, you may be sure, I read her very
closely. Well, dear, she bears examination. It is a bright
face, a handsome face, and a good face: and almost as much
in love as you are."
" What makes you fancy that?  Oh, you spoke to her?"
" Certainly not. But I observed her. Restless and listless by turns-her body in one place, her mind in another.
She was so taken up with her own thoughts she could not
follow the service. I saw the poor girl try very hard several
times, but at last she gave it up in despair. Sometimes she
knitted her brow; and a young girl seldom does that unless
she is thwarted in her love. And I'll tell you a surer sign
still: sometimes tears came for no visible reason, and stood
in her eyes. She is in love; and it cannot be with Mr.
Coventry of Bollinghope: for, if she loved him, she would
have nothing to brood on but her wedding-dress; and they
never knit their brows, nor bedew their eyes, thinking of that;



25U          PUT YOURSELI?  IN HIS PLACE.
that's a smiling subject. No, it is true love on both sides, I.o believe; and that makes my woman's heart yearn. Harry,
dear, I'll make you a confession. You have heard that a
mother's love is purer and more unselfish than any other love:
and so it is. But even mothers are not quite angels always.
Sometimes they are just a little jealous: not, I think, where
they are blessed with many children; but you are my one
child, my playmate, my companion, my friend, my only love.
That sweet girl has come, and I must be dethroned. I felt
this, and -   no, nothing could ever make me downright
thwart your happiness; but a mother's jealousy made me
passive, where I might have assisted you if I had been all a
mother should be."
" No, no, mother; I am the one to blame. You see,
it looked so hopeless at first, I used to be ashamed to talk
freely to you. It's only of late I have opened my heart to
you as I ought."
" Well, dear, I am glad you think the blame is not all
with me. But what I see is my own fault, and mean to correct it. She gave you good advice, dear-to consult your
mother. But you shall have my assistance as well; and I
shall begin at once, like a zealous ally. When I say at once
-this is Sunday-I shall begin to-morrow, at one o'clock."
Then Henry sat down at her knee, and took her white
hand in his brown ones.
"And what shall you do at one o'clock, my beautiful
mother? "
" I shall return to society."
CHAPTER XXII.
NEXT morning Mrs. Little gave her son the benefit of her
night's reflections.
" You must let me have some money-all you can spare
from your business; and whilst I am doing something with
it for you, you must go to London, and do exactly what I tell
you to do."
" Exactly?  Then please write it down."
" A very good plan. Can you go by the express this
morning? "



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              261
" Why, yes, I could; only then I must run down to the
works this minute, and speak to the foreman."
" Well, dear, when you come back, your instructions shall
be written, and your bag packed."
" I say, mother, you are going into it in earnest. All the
better for me."
At twelve he started for London, with a beautiful set of
carving-tools in his bag, and his mother's instructions in his
pocket: those instructions sent him to a fashionable tailor
that very afternoon. With some difficulty he prevailed on
this worthy to make him a dress-suit in twenty-four hours.
Next day he introduced himself to the London trade, showed
his carving-tools, and, after a hard day's work, he succeeded
in obtaining several orders.
Then he bought some white ties and gloves and an opera
hat, and had his hair cut in Bond Street.
At seven he got his clothes at the tailor's and at eight he
was in the stalls of the opera. His mother had sent him there,
to note the dress and public deportment of gentlemen and
ladies, and use his own judgment. He found his attention
terribly distracted by the music and the raptures it caused
him; but still he made some observations; and, consequently,
next day he bought some fashionable shirts and sleeve-studs
and ribbon ties; ordered a morning suit of the same tailor,
to be sent to him at Hillsborough; and after canvassing for
customers all day, telegraphed his mother, and reached Hillsborough at eleven P.M.
At first sight of him Mrs. Little exclaimed" Oh! what have you done with your beautiful hair? "
He laughed, and said this was the fashion.
" But it is like a private soldier."
" Exactly. Part of the Volunteer movement, perhaps."
" Are you sure it is the fashion, dear? "
"Quite sure. All the swells in the opera were bulletheaded just like this."
" Oh, if it is the fashion! " said Mrs. Little; and her
mind succumbed under that potent word.
She asked him about the dresses of the ladies in the opera.
His description was very lame. He said he didn't know
he was expected to make notes of them.
"Well, but you might be sure I should like to know.
Were there no ladies dressed as you would like to see your
mother dressed?"



252          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Good heavens, no! I couldn't fancy you in a lot of
colours; and your beautiful head deformed into the shape of
a gourd, with a beast of a chignon stuck out behind, made
of dead hair."
" No matter, Mr. Henry; I wish I had been with you at
the opera. I should have seen something or other, that would
have become me." She gave a little sigh.
He was not to come home to dinner that day, but stay
at the works, till she sent for him.
At six o'clock, Jael Dence came for him in a fly, and told
him he was to go home with her.
"All right," said he; "but how did you come there? "
"She bade me come and see her again--that day I
brought the bust. So I went to see her, and I found her so
busy, and doing more than she was fit, poor thing, so I made
bold to give her a hand. That was yesterday: and I shall
come every day-if 'tis only for an hour-till the curtains
are all up."
" The curtains! what curtains? "
" Ask no questions, and you will hear no lies."
Henry remonstrated; Jael recommended patience: and,
at last, they reached a little villa, half way up Heath Hill.
" You are at home now," said Jael, dryly. The new villa
looked very gay that evening, for gas and fires were burning
in every room.
The dining-room and drawing-room were both on the
ground-floor; had each one enormous window with plate glass,
and were rooms of very fair size, divided by large foldingdoors. These were now open, and Henry found his mother
seated in the dining-room, with two workwomen, making
curtains, and in the drawing-room were two more, sewing a
carpet.
The carpet was down in the dining-room. The tea-table
was set, and gave an air of comfort and housewifely foresight,
in the midst of all the surrounding confusion.
Young Little stared. Mrs. Little smiled.
"Sit down, and never mind us: give him his tea, my
good Jael."
Henry sat down, and, while Jael was making the tea,
ventured on a feeble expostulation.  " It's all very fine,
mother, but I don't like to see you make a slave of yourself."
" Slaving I" said Jael, with a lofty air of pity. "Why,
she is working for her own." Rural logic I



PVT YP OUT18EP IN 1119 PFACE0,

258

" Oh," said Mrs. Little, to her, " these clever creatures
we look up to so are rather stupid in some things. Slave!
Why, I am a General leading my Amazons to victory," And
she waved her needle gracefully in the air.
"Well, but why not let the shop do them, where you
bought the curtains? "
" Because, my dear, the shop would do them very badly,
very dearly, and very slowly. Do you remember reading to
me about Cesar, and what he said?-that 'a general should
not say to his troops "go and attack the enemy, but come and
attack the enemy."' Well, that applies to needlework. I say
to these ladies ' come, sew these curtains, with me;' and the
consequence is, we have done in three days, what no shop in
Hillsborough would have done for us in a fortnight: but, as for
slaves, the only one has been my good Jael there. She insisted
on moving all the heavy boxes herself. She dismissed the
porter; she said he had no pith in his arms-that was your
expression, I think? "
"Ay, ma'am; that was my word: and I never spoke a
truer; the useless body. Why, ma'am, the girls in Cairnhope
are most of them well-grown hussies, and used to work in the
fields, and carry full sacks of grain up steps. Many's the time
I have run with a sack of barley on my back, so let us hear
no more about your bits of boxes. I wish my mind was as
strong."
" Heaven forbid! " said Mrs. Little, with comic fervour.
Henry laughed. But Jael only stared, rather stupidly. Byand-by she said she must go now.
" Henry shall take you home, dear."
" Nay, I can go by myself."
"It is raining a little. He will take you home in the cab."
"Nay, I've got legs of my own," said the rustic.
" Henry, dear," said the lady quietly, " take her home in
the cab, and then come back to me."
At the gate of Woodbine Villa, Jael said, " it was not goodnight this time; it was good-by; she was going home for
Patty's marriage."
"But you will come back again?" said Henry.
" Nay, father would be all alone. You'll not see me here
again, unless you are in sorrow or sickness."
"Ah, that's like you, Jael. Good-by, then, and God bless
you wherever you go."
Jael summoned all her fortitude, and shook hands with him
I  rf



254

rwr YtOtUnSIM    fti ANs 3~LACOE

in silence. They parted, and she fought down her tears, atd
he went gaily home to his mother. She told him she had
made several visits, and been cordially received. " And this
is how I paved the way for you. So, mind! I said my brother
Raby wished you to take his name, and be his heir; but you
had such a love of manufactures and things, you could not be
persuaded to sit down as a country gentleman. 'Indeed,' I
said, ' his love of the thing is so great that, in order to master
it in all its branches, nothing less would serve him than disguising himself, and going as a workman. But now,' I said,
'he has had enough of that, so he has set up a small factory,
and will, no doubt, soon achieve a success.' Then I told them
about you and Doctor Amboyne. Your philanthropic views did
not interest them for a single moment; but I could see the
poor dear Doctor's friendship was a letter of introduction.
There will be no difficulty, dear. There shall be none. What
society Hillsborough boasts, shall open its arms to you."
"But I'm afraid I shall make mistakes."
" Our first little prxties shall be given in this house. Your
free and easy way will be excused in a host; the master of the
house has a latitude; anti besides, you and I will rehearse.
By the way, please be more careful about your nails; and you
must always wear gloves when you are not working; and every
afternoon you will take a lesson in dancing with me."
" I say, mother, do you remember teaching me to dance a
minuet, when I was little? "
" Perfectly.  We took great pains; and, at last, you
danced it like an angel. And, shall I-tell you, you carry yourself very gracefully?-well, that is partly owing to the minuet.
But a more learned professor will now take you in hand. He
will be here to-morrow at five o'clock."
MArs. Little's rooms being nearly square, she set up a
round table, at which eight could dine. But she began with
five or six.
Henry used to commit a solecism or two.   Mrs. Little
always noticed them, and told him. He never wanted telling
twice. He was a genial young fellow, well read in the topics
of the day, and had a natural wit; Mrs. Little was one of those
women who can fascinate when_ hechoose; and she chose
now: her little parties rose to eight; and as, at her table,
everybody could speak without rudeness to everybody else, this
imand table soon began to eclipse the long tables of Hillsborough in attraction.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              25O
She and Henry went out a good deal; and, at last, that
which Mrs. Little's good sense had told her must happen,
sooner or later, took place. They met.
He was standing talking with one of the male guests, when
the servant announced Miss Carden; and, whilst his heart was
beating high, she glided into the room, and was received by
the mistress of the house with all that superabundant warmth
which ladies put on and men don't: guess why?
When she turned round from this exuberant affection, she
encountered Henry's black eye full of love and delight, and his
tongue tied, and his swarthy cheek glowing red. She half
started, and blushed in turn; and with one glance drank in
every article of dress he had on. Her eyes beamed pleasure
and admiration for a moment, then she made a little curtsey,
then she took a step towards him, and held out her hand a
little coyly.
Their hands and eyes encountered; and, after that delightful collision, they were both as demure as cats approaching
cream.
Before they could say a word of any consequence, a cruel
servant announced dinner, to the great satisfaction of every
other soul in the room.
Of course they were parted at dinner-time; but they sat
exactly opposite each other, and Henry gazed at her so, instead
of minding his business, that she was troubled a little, and fain
to look another way. For all that she found opportunity once
or twice to exchange thoughts with him.   Indeed, in the
course of the two hours, she gave him quite a lesson how to
speak with the eye-an art in which he was a mere child compared with her.
She conveyed to him that she saw his mother, and recognized her; and also she hoped to know her.
But some of her telegrams puzzled him.
When the gentlemen came up after dinner, she asked him
if he would not present her to his mother.
" Oh, thank you!" said he, naively; and introduced them
to each other.
The ladies curtsied with grace, but a certain formality, for
they both felt the importance of the proceeding, and were a
little on their guard.
But they had too many safe, yet interesting topics, to te
very long at a loss.
" I should have known you by your picture, Mrs. Little."



t86           PUT TOUt9isLP IN MIS PLACe1
" All, then I fear it must be faded since I saw it last."
"I think not. But I hope you will soon judge for yout.
self."
Mrs. Little shook her head. Then she said, graciously,
"I hear it is to you I am indebted that people can see I was
once-what I am not now."
Grace smiled, well pleased. "Ah," said she, " I wish you
could have seen that extraordinary scene, and heard dear
Mr. Raby-Oh, madam, let nothing make you believe you have
no place in his great heart I"
" Pray, pray do not speak of that. This is no place. How
could I bear it? " and Mrs. Little began to tremble.
Grace apologized. "How indiscreet I am; I blurt out
everything that is in my heart."
"And so do I," said Henry, coming to her aid.
"Alh, you! " said Grace, a little saucily.
" We do not accept you for our pattern, you see. Pray
excuse our bad taste, Harry."
" Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Little. In some things I should
indeed be proud if I could imitate him; but in others-of
course-you know."
" Yes, I know. My dear, there is your friend, Mr. Applethwaite."
"I see him," said Henry, carelessly.
"Yes; but you don't see everything," said Grace, slily.
"Not all at once, like you ladies. Bother my friend Applethwaite. Well, if I must-I must. Here goes-from Paradise
to Applethwaite."
He went off, and both ladies smiled, and one blushed; and,
to cover her blush, said, "It is not every son that has the
grace to appreciate his mother so."
Mrs. Little opened her eyes at first, and then made her
nearest approach to a laugh, which was a very broad smile, displaying all her white teeth. "That is a turn I was very far
from expecting," said she.
The ice was now broken, and, when Henry returned, hc
found them conversing so rapidly, and so charmingly, that he
could do little more than listen.
At last Mr. Garden came in from some other party, and
carried his daughter off, and the bright evening came too soon
to a close; but a great point had been gained; Mrs. Little and
Grace Carden were acquaintances now, and cordially disposed
to be friends.



PUT YOJRSELF P N HIS PLACE.   2

257

The next time these lovers met, matters did not go quite
so smoothly. It was a large party, and Mr. Coventry was
there. The lady of the house was a friend of his, and assigned
Miss Garden to him. He took her down to dinner, and Henry
sat a long way off, but on the opposite side of the table.
He was once more doomed to look on at the assiduities of
his rival, and it spoilt his dinner for him.
But he was beginning to learn that these things must be
in society; and his mother, on the other side of the table,
shrugged her shoulders to him, and conveyed by that and a
look that it was a thing to make light of.
In the evening the rivals came into contact.
Little, being now near her he loved, was in high spirits,
and talked freely and agreeably. He made quite a little circle
round him; and as Grace was one of the party, and cast bright
and approving eyes on him, it stimulated him still more, and
he became quite brilliant.
Then Coventry, who was smarting with jealousy, set himself to cool all this down by a subtle cold sort of jocoseness,
which, without being downright rude, operates on conversation
of the higher kind like frost on expanding buds. It had its
effect, and Grace chafed secretly, but could not interfere. It
was done very cleverly. Henry was bitterly annoyed; but his
mother, who saw his rising ire in his eye, carried him off to
see a flowering cactus in a hot-house that was accessible from
the drawing-room. When she had got him there, she soothed
him and lectured him. " You are not a match for that man
in these petty acts of annoyance, to which a true gentleman
and a noble rival would hardly descend, I think; at all events,
a wise one would not; for, believe me, Mr. Coventry will gain
nothing by this."
" Isn't driving us off the field something?  Oh, for the
good old days when men settled these things in five minutes,
like men; the girl to one, and the grave to t'other."
" Heaven forbid those savage days should ever return. We
will defeat this gentleman quietly, if you please."
" How? "
" Well, whenever he does this sort of thing, hide your
anger; be polite and dignified; but gradually drop the conversation, and manage to convey to the  t that it is useless
contending against a wet blanket. Winou foolish boy, do
you think Grace Garden likes him an     e better?  Whilst
you and I talk, she is snubbing him finely. So you must stay



258           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
here with me, and give them time to quarrel. There, to lessen
the penance, we will talk about her. Last time we met her,
she told me you were the best-dressed gentleman in the room."
"And did she like me any better for that? "
" Don't you be ungracious, dear. She was proud of you.
It gratified her that you should look well in every way. Oh,
if you think that we are going to change our very natures
for you, and make light of dress-    why did I send you
to a London tailor? and why am I always at you about your
gloves?"
" Mother, I am on thorns."
" Well, we will go back. Stop; let me take a peep first."
She took a peep, and reported,
"The little circle is broken up. Mr. Coventry could not
amuse them as you did. Ah! she is in the sulks, and he is
mortified. I know there's a French proverb, ' Les absens ont
toujours tort.' But it is quite untrue; judicious absence is a
weapon, and I must show you how and when to use it."
" Mother, you are my best friend.   What shall we do
next? "
" Why, go back to the room with me, and put on imperturbable good-humour, and ignore him; only mind you do that
politely, or you will give him an advantage he is too wise to
give you."
Henry was about to obey these orders, but Miss Garden
took the word out of his mouth.
" Well! the cactus! "
Then, as it is not easy to reply to a question so vague,
Henry hesitated.
" There, I thought so," said Grace.
" What did you think? " inquired Mrs. Little.
" Oh, people don't go into hot-houses to see cactus; they
go to flirt, or else gossip. I'll tell Mrs. White to set a shorthand writer in the great aloe, next party she gives. Confess,
Mrs. Little, you went to criticize poor us, and there is no cactus
at all."
" Miss Garden, I'm affronted. You shall smart for this.
Henry take her directly, and show her the cactus, and clear
your mother's character."
Henry offered his arm directly, and they went gaily off.
" Is she gone to flirt, or to gossip? " asked a young lady.
" Our watches must tell us that," said Mrs. Little. " I
they stay five minutes--gossip.'



PVT  YOUR~ELt    IN ItR   PLIACE4

259

"And how many-flirtation? "
"Ah, my dear, you know better than I do. What do you
say?  Five-and-twenty? "
The young ladies giggled.
Then Mr. Coventry came out strong. He was mortified,
he was jealous; he saw a formidable enemy had entered the
field, and had just outwitted and outmanoeuvred him. So what
does he do but step up to her, and say to her, with the most
respectful grace, " May I be permitted to welcome you back to
this part of the world?  I am afraid I cannot exactly claim
your acquaintance; but I have often heard my father speak of
you with the highest admiration. My name is Coventry."
" Mr. Coventry, of Bollinghope? "  (He bowed.) "Yes;
I had the pleasure of knowing your mother in former days."
" You have deserted us too long."
" I do not flatter myself I have been missed."
" Is anybody ever missed, Mrs. Little?  Believe me, few
persons are welcomed back so cordially as you are."
" That is very flattering, Mr. Coventry. It is for my son's
sake I have returned to society."
" No doubt; but you will remain there for your own.
Society is your place. You are at home in it, and were born
to shine in it."
" What makes you think that, pray? " and the widow's
cheek flushed a little.
" Oh, Mrs. Little, I have seen something of the world.
Count me amongst your most respectful admirers. It is a
sentiment I have a right to, since I inherit it."
" Well, Mr. Coventry, then I give you leave to admire me
-if you can. Ah, here they come. Two minutes!       I am
afraid it was neither gossip nor flirtation, but only botany."
Grace and Henry came back, looking very radiant.
" What do you think? " said Grace. " I never was more
surprised in my life; there really is a cactus, and a night ceres
into the bargain. Mrs. Little, behold a penitent. I bring you
my apology, and a jardinea."
" Oh, how sweet!    Never mind the apology.    Quarrel
with me often, and bring me a jardinea. I'll always make it
up on those terms."
"Miss White," said Grace, pompously, "I shall require
a few dozen cuttings from your tree, please tell the gardener.
Arrangements are such, I shall have to grow jardineas on a
scale hitherto unprecedented."



200          PUT YOURSELF IN 1IS PLACE.
There was a laugh, and in the middle of it a servant
announced Miss Garden's carriage.
" What attentive servants you have, Miss White. I requested that man to be on the watch, and, if I said a good
thing, to announce my carriage directly; and he did it pat.
New see what an effective exit that gives me. Good-by,
Miss White, good-by, Mrs. Little; may you all disappear as
neatly."
Mr. Coventry stepped smartly forward, and offered her his
arm with courteous deference; she took it, and went down with
him, but shot over his shoulder a side-glance of reproach at
Little, for not being so prompt as his rival.
" What spirits! " said a young lady.
"Yes," said another; " but she was as dull as the grave
last time I met her."
So ended that evening, with its little ups and downs.
Soon after this, Henry called on Miss Garden, and spent a
heavenly hour with her. He told her his plans for getting on
in the world, and she listened with a demure complacency, that
seemed to imply she acknowledged a personal interest in his
success. She told him she had always admired his independence in declining his uncle's offer, and now she was beginning
to approve it: " It becomes a man," said she.
From the future they went to the past, and she reminded
him of the snow-storm and the scene in the church; and, in
speaking of it, her eye deepened in colour, her voice was low
and soft, and she was all tenderness.
If love was not directly spoken, it was constantly implied, and, in fact, that is how true love generally speaks.
The eternal " Je vous aime " of the French novelist is false to
nature, let me tell you.
" And, when I come back from London, I hope your dear
mother will give me opportunities of knowing her better."
"She will be delighted: but going to London! "
" Oh, we spend six weeks in London every year; and this
is our time. I was always glad to go, before-London is very
gay now, you know-but I am not glad now."
" No more am I, I can assure you. I am very sorry."
" Six weeks will soon pass."
" Six weeks of pain is a good long time. You are the
sunshine of my life. And you are going to shine on others, an,
leave me dark and solitary."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

261

" But how do you know I shall shine on others?  Perhaps
I shall be duller than you will, and think all the more of Hillsbarough, for being in London."
The melting tone in which this was said, and the coy and
tender side-glance that accompanied it, were balm of Gilead to
the lover.
He took comfort, and asked her, cheerfully, if he might
write to her.
She hesitated a single moment, and then said " Yes."
She added, however, after a pause, "But you can't; for
you don't know my address."
"But you will tell me."
"Never! never 1 Fifty-eight Clarges Street."
" When do you go?"
" The day after to-morrow: at twelve o'clock."
" May I see you off at the train? "
She hesitated. "If-you-like," said she, slowly: " but
I think you had better not."
" Oh, let me see the last of you."
"Use your own judgment, dear."
The monosyllable slipped out, unintentionally: she was
thinking of something else. Yet, as soon as she had uttered
it, she said " Oh! " and blushed all over. "I forgot I was
not speaking to a lady," said she, innocently; then, right
archly, " please forgive me."
He caught her hand, and kissed it devotedly.
Then she quivered all over. " You mustn't," said she,
with the gentlest possible tone of reproach. " Oh dear, I am
so sorry I am going." And she turned her sweet eyes on him,
with tears in them.
Then a visitor was announced, and they parted.
He was deep in love. He was also, by nature, rather
obstinate. Although she had said she thought it would be
better for him not to see her off, yet he would go to the station,
and see the last of her.
He came straight from the station, to his mother. She
was upstairs. He threw himself into a chair, and there she
found him, looking ghastly.
" Oh, mother I what shall I do? "
" What is the matter, love? "
" She is false; she is false. She has gone up to London,
with that Coventry,"



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

CHAPTER XXIII.
"4 WHAT! eloped?"
" Heaven forbid. Why, mother, I didn't say she was alone
with him; her father was of the party."
" Then surely you are distressing yourself more than you
need. She goes to London with her papa, and Mr. Coventry
happens to go up the same day; that is really all."
"Oh, but, mother, it was no accident. I watched his face,
and there was no surprise when he came up with his luggage
and saw her."
Mrs. Little pondered for a minute, and then said, "I
daresay all her friends knew she was going up to London
to-day; and Mr. Coventry determined to go up the same day.
Why, he is courting her: my dear Henry, you knew before
to-day that you had a rival, and a determined one. If you go
and blame her for his acts, it will be apt to end in his defeating
you."
SWill it?  Then I won't blame her at all."
"You had better not till you are quite sure: it is one way
of losing a high-spirited girl."
"I tell you I won't. Mother!"
"Well, dear?"
SWhen I asked leave to come to the station, and see her
off, she seemed put out."
"Did she forbid you?"
"No; but she did not like it, somehow. Ah, she knew
beforehand that Coventry would be there."
" Gently, gently! She might think it possible, and yet
not know it. More likely it was on account of her father. You
have never told him that you love his daughter?"," No."
" And he is rather mercenary: perhaps that is too strong
a word; but, in short, a mere man of the world. Might it not
be that Grace Carden would wish him to learn your attachment either from your lips, or from her own, and not detect it
in an impetuous young man's conduct on the platform of a railway, at the tender hour of parting? "
" Oh, how wise you are, and what an insight you have got!
Ycur words are balm. But, there-   he is with her for ever
so long, and I am here all alone."
" Not quite alone, love: your counsellor is by your side,



PIT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              S63
and may, perhaps, show you how to turn this to your advantage.
You write to her every day, and then the postman will be a
powerful rival to Mr. Coventry, perhaps a more powerful one
than Mr. Coventry to you."
Acting on this advice, Henry wrote every day to Grace
Garden. She was not so constant in her replies; but she did
write to him now and then, and her letters breathed a gentle
affection that allayed his jealousy, and made this period of
separation the happiest six weeks he had ever known. As for
Grace, about three o'clock she used to look out for the post
man, and be uneasy and restless if he was late, and, when his
knock came, her heart would bound, and she generally flew
upstairs with the prize, to devour it in secret. She fed her
heart full with these letters, and loved the writer better and
better.  For once the present suitor lost ground, and the
absent suitor gained it. Mrs. Little divined as much from
Grace's letters and messages to herself; and she said with a
smile, " You see ' Les absens n'ont pas toujours tort.' "
CHAPTER XXIV.
I MUST now deal briefly with a distinct vein of incidents, that
occurred between young Little's first becoming a master and
the return of the Cardens from London.
Little, as a master, acted up to the philanthropic theories
he had put forth when a workman.
The wet-grinders in his employ submitted to his improved
plates, his paved and drained floor, and cosy fires, without a
murmur or a word of thanks. By degrees they even found
out they were more comfortable than other persons in their
condition, and congratulated themselves upon it.
The dry-grinders consented, some of them, to profit by his
improved fans. Others would not take the trouble to put the
fans in gear, and would rather go on inhaling metal dust and
stone grit.
Henry reasoned, but in vain; remonstrated, but with little
success. Then he discharged a couple; they retired with the
mien of martyrs; and their successcrs were admitted on a
written agreement that left them   no option.   The fan
triumphed.



a4            PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE
The file-cutters were more troublesome; they clung to
death and disease, like limpets to established rocks; they
would not try any other bed than bare lead, and they would
not wash at the taps Little had provided, and they would
smuggle in dinners and eat with poisoned hands.
Little reasoned, and remonstrated, but with such very
trifling success, that, at last, he had to put down the iron
heel; he gave the file-cutters a printed card, with warning to
leave on one side, and his reasons on the other.
In twenty-four hours he received a polite remonstrance
from the secretary of the File-cutters' Union.
He replied that the men could remain, if they would sign
an agreement to forego certain suicidal practices, and to pay
fines in case of disobedience; said fines to be deducted from
their earnings.
Then the secretary suggested a conference at the "Cutlers'
Arms." Little assented: and there was a hot argument.
The father of all file-cutters objected to tyranny and innovation: Little maintained that Innovation was nearly always
Improvement-the world being silly-and was manifestly
improvement in the case under consideration. He said also
he was merely doing what the Union itself ought to do: protecting the life of Union men who were too childish and wrongheaded to protect it themselves.
" We prefer a short life and a merry one, Mr. Little,"
said the father of all file-cutters.
" A life of disease is not a merry one: slow poisoning is
not a pleasant way of living, but a miserable way of dying.
None but the healthy are happy. Many a Crcesus would give
half his fortune for a poor man's stomach; yet you want your
cutlers to be sick men all their days, and not gain a shilling
by it. Man alive, I am not trying to lower their wages."
" Ay, but you are going the way to do it."
" How do you make that out? "
" The trade is full already; and, if you force the men to
live to threescore and ten, you will overcrowd it so, they will
come to starvation wages."
Little was staggered at this thunderbolt of logic, and
digested the matter in silence for a moment. Then he remembered something that had fallen from Dr. Amboyne; and
he turned to Grotait. "What do you say to that, sir? Would
you grind Death's scythe for him (at the list price) to thin the
labour-market?"



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

265

Grotait hesitated for once. In his heart he went with the
file-cutter: but his understanding encumbered him. -
" Starvation," said he, " is as miserable a death as poisoning. But why make a large question out of a small one, with
rushing into generalities?  I really think you might let Mr.
Little settle this matter with the individual workmen. He
has got a little factory, and a little crotchet; he chooses to
lengthen the lives of six file-cutters. He says to them, 'My
money is my own, and I'll give you so much of it, in return
for so much work plus so much washing and other novelties.'
The question is, does his pay cover the new labour of washing,
-etc. as well as the old? "
" Mr. Grotait, I pay the highest price that is going."
" In that case, I think the Unions are not bound to recognize the discussion. Mr. Little, I have some other reasons to
lay before my good friend here, and I hope to convince him.
Now, there's a little party of us going to dine to-morrow at
' Savage's Hotel,' up by the new reservoir; give us the pleasure of your company, will you? and, by that time, perhaps I
may have smoothed this little matter for you."  Little thanked
him, accepted the invitation, and left the pair of secretaries
together.
When he was gone. Grotait represented that public opinion
would go with Little on this question; and the outrages he
had sustained would be all ripped up by the Hillsborough
Liberal, and the two topics combined in an ugly way; and all
for what?-to thwart a good-hearted young fellow in a philanthropical crotchet, which, after all, did him honour, and would
never be imitated by any other master in Hillsborough. And
so, for once, this Machiavel sided with Henry, not from the
purest motives, yet, mind you, not without a certain mixture
of right feeling and humanity.
On the Sunday, Henry dined with him and his party at
" Savage's Hotel," and the said dinner rather surprised Henry;
the meats were simple, but of good quality, and the wines,
which were all brought out by Grotait, were excellent. -That
eld Saw, who retailed ale and spirits to his customers, would
serve nothing less to his guests than champagne and burgundy.
And, if the cheer was generous, the host was admirable; he
showed, at the head of his genial board, those qualities which,
coupled with his fanaticism, had made him the Doge of the
Hillsborough trades. He was primed on every subject that
could interest his guests, and knew something about nearly



266          PUT YOURSELF 1ý IIS PLACE.
everything else. He kept the ball always going, but did not
monologuize, except when he was appealed to as a judge, and
then did it with a mellow grace that no man can learn without
Nature's aid. There is no society, however distinguished, in
which Grotait would not have been accepted as a polished and
admirable converser.
Add to this, that he had an art, which was never quite
common, but is now becoming rare, of making his guests feel
his friends-for the time, at all events.
Young Little sat amazed, and drank in his words with
delight, and could not realize that this genial philosopher was
the person who had launched a band of ruffians at him. Yet,
in his secret heart, he could not doubt it: and so he looked
and listened with a marvellous mixture of feelings, on which
one could easily write pages of analysis, very curious, and
equally tedious.
They dined at three; and, at five, they got up, as agreed
beforehand, and went to inspect the reservoir in course of
construction. A more compendious work of art was never
projected: the contractors had taken for their basis a mountain gorge, with a stream flowing through it down towards
Hillsborough; all they had to do was to throw an embankment
across the lower end of the gorge, and turn it to a mighty
basin open to receive the stream, and the drainage from four
thousand acres of hill. From this lake a sixty-foot weir was
to deal out the water-supply to the mill-owners below, and the
surplus to the people of Hillsborough, distant about eight miles
on an easy decline.
Now, as the reservoir must be full at starting, and would
then be eighty feet deep in the centre, and a mile long, and a
quarter of a mile broad on the average, an embankment of
uncommon strength was required to restrain so great a mass
of water; and this was what the Hillsborough worthies were
curious about. They strolled out to the works, and then tea
was to come out after them, the weather being warm and fine.
Close to the works they found a foreman of engineers smoking
his pipe; and interrogated him. He showed them a rising
wall, five hundred feet wide at the base, and told them it was
to be ninety feet high, narrowing, gradually, to a summit
twelve feet broad.  As the whole embankment was to be
twelve hundred feet long at the top, this gave some idea of
the bulk of the materials to be used: those materials were
rlay, shale, mill-stone, and sandstone of looser texture. The



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             267
engineer knew Grotait, and brought him a drawing of the
mighty cone to be erected. " Why, it will be a mountain!"
said Little.
" Not far from that, sir; and yet you'll never see half the
work. Why we had an army of navvies on it last autumn,
and laid a foundation sixty feet deep; and these first courses
are all bonded in to the foundation, and bonded together, as
you see. We are down to solid rock, and no water can get to
undermine us. The puddlewall is sixteen feet wide at starting,
and diminishes to four feet at the top: so no water can creep
in through our jacket."
" But what are these apertures?" inquired Grotait.
" Oh, those are the waste-pipes?  They pass through the
embankment obliquely, to the weir-dam: they can be opened,
or shut, by valves, and run off ten thousand cubic feet of water
a minute."
" But won't that prove a hole in your armour? Why, these
pipes must be in twenty joints, at least."
" Say fifty-five; you'll be nearer the mark."
" And suppose one or two of these fifty-five joints should
leak? You'll have an everlasting solvent in the heart of your
pile, and you can't get at them, you know, to mend them."
" Of course not; but they are double as thick as ever were
used before; and have been severely tested before laying 'em
down: besides, don't you see each of them has got his great
coat on? eighteen inches of puddle all the way."
" Ah," said Grotait, " all the better. But it is astonishing
what big embankments will sometimes burst if a leaky pipe runs
through them. I don't think it is the water, altogether; the
water seems to make air inside them, and that proves as bad
for them as wind in a man's stomach."
" Governor," said the engineer, " don't you let bees swarmi
in your bonnet. Ousely reservoir will last as long as them hills,
there."
" No doubt, lad, since thou's had a hand in making it."
The laugh this dry rejoinder caused was interrupted by the
waitress bringing out tea; and these Hillsborough worthies felt
bound to chaff her; but she, being Yorkshire too, gave them as
good as they brought, and a trifle to spare.
Tea was followed by brandy-and-water and pipes; and
these came out in such rapid succession, that when Grotait
drove Little and two others home, his utterance was thick, and
his speech sententious.



21M           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Little found Bayne waiting for him, with the news that he
had left Mr. Cheetham.
" How was that? "
"Oh, fell between two stools. Tried to smooth matters
between Cheetham and the hands: but Cheetham, he wants a
manager to side with him through thick and thin; and the men
want one to side with them. He has sacked me, and the men
are glad I'm going: and this comes of loving peace, when the
world hates it."
"And I am glad of it, for now you are my foreman. I
know what you are worth, if those fools don't."
SAre you in earnest, Little?"
"Why not? "
"I hear you have been dining with Grotait, and he always
makes the liquor fly. Wait till to-morrow. Talk it over with
Mrs. Little here.  I'm afraid I'm not the right sort for a
servant. Too fond of 'the balmy,' and averse to the whole
hog." (The poor fellow was quite discouraged.)
" The very man I want to soothe me at odd times: they
rile me so with their suicidal folly. Now, look here, old fellow,
if you don't come to me, I'll give you a good hiding."
" Oh! well, sooner than you should break the peaceMrs. Little, I'd rather be with him at two guineas a week than
with any other master at three."
When he had got this honest fellow to look after his interests, young Little gave more way than ever to his natural
bent for invention, and he was often locked up for twelve hours
at a stretch, in a room he called his studio. Indeed, such was
his ardour, that he sometimes left home after dinner, and came
back to the works, and then the fitful fire of his forge might be
seen, and the blows of his hammer heard, long after midnight.
Dr. Amboyne encouraged him in this, and was, indeed. the
only person admitted to his said studio. There the Democritus
of Hillsborough often sat and smoked his cigar, and watched
the progress towards perfection of projected inventions great
and small.
One day the Doctor called and asked Bayne whether Henry
was in his studio. Bayne said no; he thought he had seen
him in the saw-grinder's hull. " And that struck me; for it is
not often his lordship condescends to go there now."
" Let us see what ' his lordship' is at."
They approached stealthily, and, looking through a window,
saw the inventor standing, with his arms folded, and his eyes



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

269

bent on a grinder at his work: the man was pressing down a
six-feet saw on a grindstone with all his might; and Little was
looking on, with a face compounded of pity, contempt, and lofty
contemplation.
" That is the game now, sir," whispered Bayne; " always
in the clouds, or else above 'em. A pienny for your thoughts,
sir!"
henry started, as men do who are roused from deep contemplation: however, he soon recovered himself, and, with a
sort of rude wit of his own, he held out his hand for the penny.
Amboyne fumbled in his pocket, and gave him a stamp.
Little seized it, and delivered himself as follows: " My
thoughts, gentlemen, were general and particular.  I was
making a reflection how contented people are to go bungling
on, doing a thing the wrong way, when the right way is obvious:
and my particular observation was, that these long saws are
ground in a way which offends the grammar of mechanics.
Here's a piece of steel six feet long, but not so wide as the
grindstone: what can be plainer than that such a strip ought
to be ground lengthwise?-then the whole saw would receive
the grindstone in a few seconds. Instead of that, on they go,
year after year, grinding them obliquely, and with a violent
exertion that horrifies a fellow like me, who goes in for
economy of labour, and have done all my life. Look at that
fellow working. What a waste of muscle! Now, if you will
come to my studio, I think I can show you how long saws will
be ground in the days of civilization."
His eye, which had been turned inwards during his reverie,
dullish and somewhat fish-like, now sparkled like a hot coal,
and he led the way eagerly.
" Pray humour him, sir," said Bayne, compassionately.
They followed him up a horrid stair, and entered his
studio; and a marvellous place it was: a forge on one side, a
carpenter's bench and turning-lathe on the other; and the floor
so crowded with models, castings, and that profusion of new
ideas in material form which housewives call litter, that the
artist had been obliged to cut three little ramified paths, a foot
wide, and so meander about the room, as struggles a wasp over
spilt glue.
He gave the Doctor the one clair, and wriggled down a
path after pencil and paper: he jumped with them, like a cat
with a mouse, on to the carpenter's bench, and was soon
qbsorbed in drawing.



570           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
When he had drawn a bit, he tore up the paper, and said,
" Let me think."
" The request is unusual," said Dr. Amboyne; " however,
if you will let us smoke, we will let you think."
No reply from the inventor, whose eye was already turned
inwards, and fishlike again.
Doctor Amboyne and Bayne smoked peaceably a while.
But presently the inventor uttered a kind of shout.
"Eureke," said the Doctor calmly, and emitted a curly
cloud.
Little dashed at the paper, and soon produced a drawing.
It represented two grindstones set apparently to grind each
other, a large one below, a small one above.
" There-the large stone shall revolve rapidly, say from
north to south; the small one from south to north: that is the
idea which has just struck me, and completes the invention. It
is to be worked, not by one grinder, but two. A stands south,
and passes the saw northward between the two grindstones
to B.-The stones must be hung, so as just to allow the
passage of the saw.-B draws it out, and reverses it, and
passes it back to A. Those two journeys of the saw will grind
the whole length of it for a breadth of two or three inches, and
all in forty seconds. Now do you see what I meant by the
grammar of mechanics? It was the false grammar of those
duffers, grinding a long thing sideways instead of lengthways,
that struck my mind first. And now see what one gets to at
last if one starts from grammar. By this machine two men
can easily grind as many big saws as twenty men could grind
on single stones: and instead of all that heavy, coarse labour,
and dirt, and splashing, my two men shall do the work as
quietly and as easily as two printers, one feeding a machine
with paper, and his mate drawing out the printed sheet at the
other end."
" By Jove," said Dr. Amboyne, " I believe this is a great
idea. What do you say, Mr. Bayne? "
"Well, sir, a servant mustn't always say his mind."
" Servant be hanged I " said Little. " That for a friend
who does not speak his mind."
" Well then, gentlemen, it is the most simple and beautiful
contrivance I ever saw. And there's only one thing to be done
with it."
"Patent it?"
"No; hide it; lock it up in your own breast, and try and



PIT YOUrSELF IN HIS PLACE.            2'11
forget it. Your life won't be worth a week's purchase if you
set up that machine in Hillsborough."
" Iillsborough is not all the world. I can take it to some
free country-America-or Russia: there's a fortune in it.
Stop, suppose I was to patent it at home and abroad, and then
work it in the United States and the Canadas. That would
force the invention upon this country by degrees."
" Yes, and then, if you sell the English patent, and insure
the purchaser's life, you may turn a few thousands, and keep a
whole skin yourself."
Little assured Bayne he had no intention of running his
head against the Saw-grinders' Union. "We are very comfortable as it is, and I value my life more than I used to do."
"I think I know why," said Doctor Amboyne. " But,
whatever you do, patent your inventions. Patent them all."
Henry promised he would; but forgot his promise, and,
having tasted blood, so to speak, was soon deep in a far more
intricate puzzle, viz., how to grind large circular saws by
machinery. This problem, and his steel railway clip, which
was to displace the present system of fastening down the rails,
absorbed him so, that he became abstracted in the very streets,
and did not see his friends when they passed.
One day, when he was deeply engaged in his studio, Bayne
tapped at the door, and asked to speak to him.
" Well, what is it? " said the inventor, rather peevishly.
"Oh, nothing," said Bayne, with a bitter air of mock
resignation. " Only a cloud on the peaceful horizon; that is
all. A letter from Mary Anne."
" SIR,-Four of your saws are behind-hand with their contributions, and, being deaf to remonstrance, I am obliged to apply
to you, to use your influence.
" MARY ANNE."
"Well," said Henry, " Mary Anne is in the right. Confound their dishonesty: they take the immense advantages the
Saw-grinders' Union gives them, yet they won't pay the weekly
contribution, without which the Union can't exist. Go and find
out who they are, and blow them up."
"What! me disturb the balmy? "
"Bother the balmy! I can't be worried with such trifles.
rm inventing."
"But, Mr. Little, would not the best way be for you just



272           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
to stop it quietly and peaceably out of their pay, and send it to
Grotait? "
Little, after a moment's reflection, said he had no legal
right to do that. Besides, it was not his business to work the
Saw-grinders' Union for Grotait. "Who is this Mary Anne?"
" The saw-grinders, to be sure."
" What, all of them?  Poor Mary Anne "
He then inquired how he was to write back to her.
" Oh, write under cover to Grotait. He is Mary Anne, to
all intents and purposes."
"Well, write the jade a curt note, in both our names, and
say we disapprove the conduct of the defaulters, and will signify
our disapproval to them; but that is all we can do."
This letter was written, and Bayne made it as oleaginous as
language permits; and there the matter rested apparently.
But, as usual, after the polite came the phonetic. Next
week Henry got a letter thus worded:" MISTER LITL, If them grinders of yores dosent send their
money i shall com an' fech strings if the devil stans i t'road.
" MOONRAKER."
Mr. Little tossed this epistle contemptuously into the fire,
and invented on.
Two days after that he came to the works, and found the
saw-grinders standing in a group, with their hands in their
pockets.
"Well, lads, what's up? "
" Mary Anne has been here."
"And two pair of wheel-bands gone."
"Well, men, you know whose fault it is."
"Nay, but it is -      hard my work should be stopped
because another man is in arrears with trade. What d'ye think
to do, governor? buy some more bands? "
" Certainly not. I won't pay for your fault. It is a just
claim, you know. Settle it among yourselves."
With this, he retired to his studio.
When the men saw he did not care a button whether his
grindstones revolved or not, they soon brought the defaulters to
book. Bayne was sent upstairs, to beg Mr. Little to advance
the trade contributions, and stop the amount from the defaulters'
wages.
This being settled, Little and Bayne went to the " Cutlers'



PUT YOURSELF IN IIS PLACE.

273

Arms," and Bayne addressed the barmaid thus, " Can we see
Mary Anne? "
" He is shaving."
" Well, when she is shaved, we shall be in the parlour,
tell her."
In a moment or two Grotait bustled in, wiping his face with
a towel as he came, and welcomed his visitors cordially. " Fine
weather, gentlemen."
Bayne cut that short. " Mr. Grotait, we have lost our
bands."
" You surprise me."
" And perhaps you can tell us how to get them back."
" Experience teaches that they always come back when the
men pay their arrears."
" Well, it is agreed to stop the sum due out of wages."
" A very proper course."
" What is it we have got to pay? "
" How can I tell without book?  Pray, Mr. Little, don't
imagine that I set these matters agate. All I do is to mediate
afterwards. I'll go and look at the contribution-book."
He went out, and soon returned, and told them it was one
sovereign contribution for each man, and five shillings each
for Mary Anne.
" What, for her services in rattening us? " said Little, drily.
" And her risk," suggested Grotait, in dulcet tones.
Little paid the five pounds, and then asked Grotait for the
bands.
" Good heavens, Mr. Little, do you think I have got your
bands? "
" You must excuse Mr. Little, sir," said Bayne. " He is
a stranger, and doesn't know the comedy. Perhaps you will
oblige us with a note where we can find them."
" Hum! " said Grotait, with the air of one suddenly illuminated. "What did I hear somebody say about these bands?
Hum! Give me an hour or two to make inquiries."
" Don't say an hour or two, sir, when the men have got tc
make up lost time. We will give you a little grace; we will
take a walk down street, and perhaps it will come to your
recollection."
" Hum! " said Grotait; and as that was clearly all they
were to get out of him just then, they left, and took a turn.
In half an hour they came back again, and sat down in the
parlour.
T                             ' ~



274

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

Grotait soon joined them. " I've been thinking," said he,
" what a pity it is we can't come to some friendly arrangement with intelligent masters like Mr. Little to deduct the
natty money every week from the men's wages."
" Excuse me," said Bayne, " we are not here for discussion. We want our bands."
" Do you doubt that you will get them, sir?  Did ever I
break faith with master or man? "
" No, no," said the pacific Bayne, alarmed at the sudden
sternness of his tone. "You are as square as a die-when
you get it all your own way. Why, Mr. Little, Cheetham's
bands were taken one day, and, when he had made the men
pay their arrears, he was directed where to find the bands;
but, meantime, somebody out of trade had found them, and
stolen them.   Down came bran-new    bands to the wheel
directly, and better than we had lost. And my cousin Godby,
that has a water-wheel, was rattened, by his scythe-blades
being flung in the dam. He squared with Mary Anne, and
then he got a letter to say where the blades were. But one
was missing. He complained to Mr. Grotait here, and Mr.
Grotait put his hand in his pocket directly, and paid the tradeprice of the blade-three shillings, I think it was."
" Yes," said Grotait; " ' but,' I remember I said at the
time, 'you must not construe this that I was any way connected with the rattening.' But some are deaf to reason.
Hallo! "
"What is the matter, sir? "
" Why, what is that in the fender? Your eyes are younger
than mine."
And Mr. Grotait put up his gold double eyeglass, and
looked, with marked surprise and curiosity, at a note that lay
in the fender.
Mr. Bayne had been present at similar comedies, and was
not polite enough to endorse Mr. Grotait's surprise. He said,
coolly, " It will be the identical note we are waiting for,'"  He
stooped down and took it out of the fender, and read it.
" ' To Mr. LITTLE, or Mr. BAYNE.
" 'GENTLEMEN,-In the bottom hull turn up the horsing, and
in the trough all the missing bands will be found. Apologising for the little interruption, it is satisfactory things are
all arranged without damage, and hope all will go agreeabli..*..  *,.*



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              275
when the rough edge is worn off. Trusting these nocturnal
visits will be no longer necessary, I remain
" ' THE SHY MAIDEN.'"
As soon as he had obtained this information, Bayne
bustled off; but Mary Anne detained Henry Little, to moralize.
Said she, " This rattening for trade contributions is the
result of bad and partial laws. If A contracts with B, and
breaks his contract, B has no need to ratten A: he can sue
him. But if A, being a workman, contracts with B and all
the other letters, and breaks his contract, B and all the other
letters have no legal remedy.  This bad and partial law,
occurring in a country that has tasted impartial laws, revolts
common sense and the consciences of men. Whenever this
sort of thing occurs in any civilized country, up starts that
pioneer judge we call Judge Lynch; in other words, private
men combine, and make their own laws, to cure the folly of
legislatures. And, mark me, if these irregular laws are unjust, they fail; if they are just, they stand. Rattening could
never have stood its ground so many years in Hillsborough if
it had not been just, and necessary to the place, under the
partial and iniquitous laws of Great Britain."
" And pray," inquired Little, " where is the justice of
taking a master's gear because his paid workman is in your
debt? "
" And where is the justice of taking a lodger's goods in
execution for the house-tenant's debt, which debt the said
lodger is helping the said tenant to pay?  We must do the
best we can. No master is rattened for a workman's fault
without several warnings. But the masters will never cooperate with justice till their bands and screws go. That
wakes them up directly."
" Well, Mr. Grotait, I never knew you worsted in an argument; and this nut is too hard for my teeth, so I'm off to my
work. Ratten me now and then for your own people's fault, if
you are quite sure justice and public opinion demand it; but
no more gunpowder, please."
" Heaven forbid, Mr. Little. Gunpowder 1 I abhor it."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

CHAPTER XXV.
TIIERE came a delightful letter from Grace Carden announcing
her return on a certain evening, and hoping to see Henry next
morning.
He called accordingly, and was received with out-stretched
hands, and sparkling eyes, and words that repaid him for her
absence.
After the first joyful burst, she inquired tenderly, why he
was so pale: had he been ill?
"No."
" No trouble nor anxiety, dear?"
" A little, at first, till your sweet letters made me nappy.
No; I did not even know that I was pale. Overstudy, I
suppose. Inventing is hard work."
" What are you inventing? "
"All manner of things. Machine to forge large axes;
another to grind circular saws; a railway clip: but you don't
care about such things."
" I beg your pardon, sir. I care' about whatever interests
you."
" Well, these inventions interest me very much. One way
or other, they are roads to fortune; and you know why I
desire fortune."
" Ah, that I do. But excuse me, you value independence
more. Oh, I respect you for it. Only don't make yourself
pale, or you will make me unhappy, and a foe to invention."
On this Mr. Little made himself red instead of pale, and
beamed with happiness.
They spent a delightful hour together, and, even when
they parted, their eyes lingered on each other.
Soon after this the Cardens gave a dinner-party, and Grace
asked if she might invite Mrs. Little and Mr. Little.
" What, is he presentable? "
" More than that," said Grace, colouring. "They are
both very superior to most of our Hillsborough friends."
" Well, but did you not tell me he had quarrelled with
Mr. Raby? "
" No, not quarrelled. Mr. Raby offered to make him his
heir: but he chooses to be independent, and make his own
fortune, that's all."
" We)l, if yon think our old friend would not take it



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

277

amiss, invite them by all means. I remember her a lovely
woman."
So the Littles were invited; and the young ladies admired
Mr. Little on the whole, but sneered at him a little for gazing
on Miss Carden, as if she was a divinity: the secret, which
escaped the father, girls of seventeen detected in a minute, and
Qat whispering over it in the drawing-room.
After this invitation, Henry and his mother called, and then
Grace called on Mrs. Little; and this was a great step for
Henry, the more so as the ladies really took to each other.
The course of true love was beginning to run smooth, when
it was disturbed by Mr. Coventry.
That gentleman's hopes had revived in London; Grace
Carden had been very kind and friendly to him, and always in
such good spirits, that he thought absence had cured her of
Little, and his turn was come again. The most experienced
men sometimes mistake a woman in this way. The real fact
was that Grace, being happy herself, thanks to a daily letter
from the man she adored, had not the heart to be unkind to
another, whose only fault was loving her, and to whom she
feared she had not behaved very well. However, Mr. Coventry
did mistake her. He was detained in town, by business; but
he wrote Mr. Carden a charming letter, and proposed formally
for his daughter's hand.
Mr. Carden had seen the proposal coming this year and
more; so he was not surprised; but he was gratified. The
letter was put into his hand while he was dressing for dinner.
Of course he did not open the subject before the servants:
but, as soon as they had retired, he said " Grace, I want your
attention on a matter of importante."
Grace stared a little, but said faintly, " Yes, papa," and
all manner of vague maidenly misgivings crowded through her
brain.
" My child, you are my only one, and the joy of the
house; and need I say I shall feel your loss bitterly whenever
your time comes to leave me? "
"Then I never will leave you," cried Grace, and came and
wreathed her arms round his neck.
He kissed her, and, parting her hair, looked with parental
fondness at her white brow and her deep clear eyes.
"You shall never leave me, for the worse," said he:
"' but you are sure to marry some day, and therefore it is my
duty to look favourably on a downright good match. Well,



278          PUT YOURSEsr IN HIS PLACE.
my dear, such a match offers itself. I have a proposal for
you."
"I am sorry to hear it."
"Wait till you hear who it is. It is Mr. Coventry, ot
Bollinghope."
Grace sighed, and looked very uncomfortable.
"Why, what is the matter? you always used to like him."
" So I do now; but not for a husband."
" I see no one to whom I could resign you so willingly.
He is well born and connected, has a good estate, not too far
from your poor father."
"Dear papa! "
"He speaks pure English: now these Hillsborough manufacturers, with their provincial twang, are hardly presentable
in London society."
" Dear papa, Mr. Coventry is an accomplished gentleman,
who has done me the highest honour he can. You must
decline him very politely: but, between ourselves, I am a little
angry with him, because he knows I do not love him; and I am
afraid he has made this offer to you, thinking you might be
tempted to constrain my affections: but you won't do that, my
own papa, will you? you will not make your child unhappy,
who loves you?"
" No, no. I will never let you make an imprudent match;
but I won't force you into a good one."
" And you know I shall never marry without your consent,
papa. But I'm only nineteen, and I don't want to be driven
away to Bollinghope."
"And I'm sure I don't want to drive you away anywhere.
Mine will be a dull, miserable home without you. Only please
tell me what to say to him."
" Oh, I leave that to you. I have often admired the way
you soften your refusals. ' Le seigneur Jupiter sait dorer la
pillule '-there, that's Moliere."
" Well, I suppose I must say--"
"Let me see what he says first."
She scanned the letter closely, to see whether there was
anything that could point to.Henry Little. But there was not
a word to indicate he feared a rival, though the letter was anything but presumptuous.
Then Grace coaxed her father, and told him she feared
her inexperience had made her indiscreet. She had liked
Mr. Coventry's conversation, and perhaps had, inadvertently,



PUT YOURSELF IN lIS PLACE.             279
given him more encouragement than she intended: would he
be a good, kind papa, and get her out of the scrape, as
creditably as he could? She relied on his superior wisdom.
So then he kissed her, and said he would do his best.
He wrote a kind, smooth letter, gilding and double-gilding
the pill. He said, amongst the rest, that there appeared to be
no ground of refusal, except a strong disinclination to enter the
wedded state. " I believe there is no one she likes as well as
you; and, as for myself, I know no gentleman to whom I would
so gladly confide my daughter's happiness, &c. &c.
He handed this letter to his daughter to read, but she
refused. " I have implicit confidence in you," said she.
Mr, Coventry acknowledged receipt of the letter, thanked
Mr. Carden for the kind and feeling way in which he had
inflicted the wound, and said that he had a verbal communication to make before he could quite drop the matter; would
be down in about a fortnight.
Soon after this Grace dined with Mrs. Little: and, the
week after that, Henry contrived to meet her at a ball, and,
after waiting patiently some time, he waltzed with her.
This waltz was another era in their love. It was an
inspired whirl of two lovers, whose feet hardly felt the ground,
and whose hearts bounded and thrilled, and their cheeks
glowed, and their eyes shot fire; and when Grace was obliged
to stop, because the others stopped, her elastic and tense frame
turned supple and soft directly, and she still let her eyes lingei
on his, and her hand nestle in his a moment: this, and a faint
sigh of pleasure and tenderness, revealed how sweet her partner
was to her.
Need I say the first waltz was not the last? and that
evening they were more in love than ever, if possible.
Mr. Coventry came down from London, and, late that
evening, he and Mr. Carden met at the Club.
Mr. Carden found him in an arm-chair, looking careworn
and unhappy; and felt quite sorry for him. He hardly knew
what to say to him: but Coventry with his usual grace relieved
him: he rose, and shook hands, and even pressed Mr. Carden's
hand, and held it.
Mr. Carden was so touched, that he pressed his hand in
return, " Courage! my poor fellow; the case is not desperate,
you know."
Mr. Coventry shook his head, and sat down. Mr. Carden
sat down beside him.



28(           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Why, Coventry, it is not as if there was another attach
ment."
" There is another attachment; at least I have too much
reason to fear so. But you shall judge for yourself. I have
long paid my respectful addresses to Miss Garden, and I may
say without vanity that she used to distinguish me beyond her
other admirers; I was not the only one who thought so;
Mr. Raby has seen us together, and he asked me to meet her
at Raby Hall. There I became more particular in my attentions, and those attentions, sir, were well received."
"But were they understood? that is the question."
" Understood and received, upon my honour."
" Then she will marry yea, soon or late: for I'm sure
there is no other man. Grace was never deceitful."
"All women are deceitful."
" Oh, come."
"Let me explain: all women, worthy of the name, are
cowards; and cowardice drives them to deceit, even against
their will. Pray hear me to an end. On the fifth of last
December, I took Miss Carden to the top of Cairnhope hill.
I showed her Bollinghope in the valley, and asked her to be its
mistress."
"And what did she say?  Yes or no? "
"She made certain faint objections, such as a sweet,
modest girl like her makes as a matter of course, and then
she yielded."
" What! consented to be your wife? "
" Not in those very words; but she said she esteemed me,
and she knew I loved her; and when I asked her whether I
might speak to you, she said ' Yes.' "
" But that was as good as accepting you."
" I am glad you agree with me. You know, Mr. Garden,
thousands have been accepted in that very form. Well, sir,
the next thing was we were caught in that cursed snow-storm."
" Yes, she has told me all about that."
" Not all, I suspect. We got separated for a few minutes,
and I found her in an old ruined church, where a sort of blacksmith was working at his forge. I found her, sir, I might say
almost in the blacksmith's arms. I thought little of that at
first: any man has a right to succour any woman in distress:
but, sir, I discovered that Miss Garden and this man were
acquaintances: and, by degrees, I found, to my horror, that
he had a terrible power over her."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIIS PLACE.            281
' What do you mean, sir? Do you intend to aftiont us?"
" No. And, if the truth gives you pain, pray remember it
gives me agony. However, I must tell you the man was not
what he looked, a mere blacksmith; he is a sort of Proteus,
who can take all manner of shapes: at the time I'm speaking
of, he was a maker of carving-tools. Well, sir, you could
hardly believe the effect of this accidental interview with that
man: the next day, when I renewed my addresses, Miss Garden
evaded me, and was as cold as she had been kind: she insisted
on it she was not engaged to me, and said she would not marry
anybody for two yea s; and this, I am sorry to say, was not
her own idea, but this Little's; for I overheard him ask her to
wait two years for him."
" Little! What, Raby's new nephew?"
" That is the man."
Mr. Carden was visibly discomposed by this communication.
He did not choose to tell Coventry how shocked he was at his
own daughter's conduct; but, after a considerable pause, he
said, " If what you have told me is the exact truth, I shall
interpose parental authority, and she shall keep her engagement
with you, in spite of all the Littles in the world."
" Pray do not be harsh," said Coventry.
" No, but I shall be firm."
" Insanity in his family, for one thing," suggested Coventry,
scarcely above a whisper.
" That is true; his father committed suicide. But really
that consideration is not needed. My daughter must keep her
engagements, as I keep mine."
With this understanding the friends parted.
CHAPTER XXVI.
GRACE happened to have a headache next morning, and did
not come down to breakfast; but it was Saturday, and Mr.
Garden always lunched at home on that day. So did Grace,
because it was one of Little's days. This gave Mr. Carden
the opportunity he wanted. When they were alone he fixed
his eyes on his daughter, and said, quietly, " What is your
opinion of a jilt? "
" A heartless, abominable creature," replied Grace, as
glibly as if she was repeating some familiar catechism.



18           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Would you like to be called one?"
" Oh, papa! "
" Is there nobody who has the right to apply the term tc
you? "
"I hope not."  (Red.)
"You encouraged Mr. Coventry's addresses? "
" I am afraid I did not discourage them, as I wish I had.
It is so hard to foresee everything."
" Pray do you remember the fifth day of last December? "
" Can I ever forget it? "  (Redder.)
" Is it true that Mr. Coventry proposed for you that day?"
" Yes."
"And you accepted him."
" No; no. Then he has told you so? How ungenerous!
All I did was, I hesitated, and cried, and didn't say 'no,'
downright-like a fool. Oh, papa, have pity on me, and save
me."  And now she was pale.
Mr. Carden's paternal heart was touched by this appeal,
but he was determined to know the whole truth. " You could
love him in time, I suppose? "
" Never."
" Why? "
" Because--"
Now tell me the truth. Have you another attachment?"
" Yes, dear papa." (In a whisper, and as red as fire.)
" Somebody of whom you are not proud."
" I am proud of him. He is Mr. Coventry's superior. He
is everybody's superior in everything in the world."
" No, Grace, you can hardly be proud of your attachment;
if you had been, you would not have hidden it all this time
from your father."  And Mr. Garden sighed.
Grace burst out crying, and flung herself on her knees
and clung sobbing to him.
" There, there," said he, "I don't want to reproach you;
but to advise you."
" Oh, papa! Take and kill me. Do: I want to die."
" Foolish child! Be calm now; and let us talk sense."
At this moment there was a peculiar ring at the door, a
ring not violent, but vigorous.
Grace started, and looked terrified: "Papa!" said she,
" say what you like to me, but do not affront him; for you
might just as well take that knife and stab your daughter to
the heart. I love him so. Have pity on me."



ITT YOURSELF IN 111S PLXCE.

283

The servant announced " Mr. Little!"
Grace started up, and stood with her hand gripping the
chair; her cheek was pale, and her eyes glittered; she looked
wild, and evidently strained up to defend her lover.
All this did not escape Mr. Garden.    He said gently,
" Show him into the library." Then to Grace, as soon as the
servant had retired, " Come here, my child."
She Kneeled at his knees again, and turned her imploring,
streaming eyes up to him.
"Is it really so serious as all this?"
" Papa, words cannot tell you how I love him. But, if
you affront him, and he leaves me, you will see how I love
him; you will know, by my grave-side, how I love him."
" Then I suppose I must swallow my disappointment
how I can."
"It shall be no disappointment; he will do you honour
and me too."
" But he can't make a settlement on his wife, and no man
shall marry my daughter till he can do that."
" We can wait," said Grace, humbly.
" Yes, wait-till you and your love are both worn out."
" I shall wekr out before my love."
Mr. Garden looked at her, as she kneeled before him, and
his heart was very much softened. "Will you listen to
reason at all? " said he.
" From  you, I will, dear papa."   She added, swiftly,
"And then you will listen to affection, will you not? "
" Yes. Promise me there shall be no formal engagement,
and I will let him come now and then."
This proposal, though not very pleasant, relieved Grace of
such terrible fears, that she consented eagerly.
Mr. Garden then kissed her, and arose to go to young
Little; but, before he had taken three steps, she caught him
by the arm, and said imploringly, " Pray remember while
you are speaking to him that you would not have me to
bestow on any man but for him; for he saved my life, and
Mr. Coventry's too. Mr. Coventry forgets that: but don't
you: and, if you wound him, you wound me: he carries my
heart in his bosom."
Mr. Garden promised he would do his duty as kindly as
possible: and with that Grace was obliged to content herself.
When he opened the library door, young Little started up,
his face irradiated with joy.  Mr. Garden smiled a little



284

PUT YOURSELF IN HIl PLACE.

satirically; but he was not altogether untouched by the
eloquent love for his daughter, thus showing itself in a very
handsome and amiable face. He said, " It is not the daughter
this time, sir; it is only the father."
Little coloured up and looked very uneasy.
" Mr. Little, I am told you pay your addresses to Miss
Carden. Is that so? "
"Yes, sir."
" You have never given me any intimation."
Little coloured still more. He replied, with some hesit:
tion, "Why, sir, you see I was brought up amongst workmen, and they court the girl first, and make sure of her,
before they trouble the parents; and, besides it was not ripe
for your eye yet."
"Why not?"
" Because I'm no match for Miss Carden. But I hope to
be, some day."
" And she is to wait for you till then."
" She says she will."
" Well, Mr. Little, this is a delicate matter; but you are
a straightforward man, I see, and it is the best way. Now I
must do my duty as a parent, and I am afraid I shall not be
able to do that without mortifying you a little; but believe
me, it is not from any dislike or disrespect to you, but oLly
because it is my duty."
"I'm much obliged to you, sir; and I'll bear more from
you than I would from any other man. You are her father
and I hope you will be mine one day."
" Well then, Mr. Little, I always thought my daughter
would marry a gentleman in this neighbourhood, who has
paid her great attention for years, and is a very suitable match
for her. You are the cause of that match being broken off,
and I am disappointed. But, although I am disappointed, I
will not be harsh nor unreasonable to you. All I say is this:
my daughter shall never marry any man, nor engage herself
to any man, who cannot make a proper settlement on her.
Can you make a proper settlement on her? "
"Not at present," said Little, with a sigh.
" Then I put it to you, as a man, is it fair of you to pay
her open attentions, and compromise her? You must not
think me very mercenary; I am not the man to give my
daughter to the highest bidder. But there is a medium."
" I understand you, sir, so far. But what am I to do?



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

285

Al I to leave off loving, and hoping, and working, and
inventing?  You might as well tell me to leave off living."
'* No, my poor boy; I don't say that, neither. If it is
really for her you work, and invent, and struggle with fortune
'o nobly as I know you do, persevere, and may God speed
you. But, meantime, be generous, and don't throw yourself
in her way to compromise her."
The young man was overpowered by the kindness and
firmness of his senior, who was also Grace's father. He said,
in a choking voice, there was no self-denial he would not
submit to, if it was understood that he might still love Grace,
and might marry her as soon as he could make a proper
settlement on her.
Then Mr. Garden, on his part, went further than he had
intended, and assented distinctly to all this, provided the delay
was not unreasonable in point of time. "I can't have her
whole life wasted."
" Give me two years: I'll win her or lose her in that
time."  He then asked, piteously, if he might see her.
" I am sorry to say No to that," was the reply; " but
she has been already very much agitated, and I should be
glad to spare her further emotion. You need not doubt her
attachment to you, nor my esteem. You are a very worthy,
honest young man, and your conduct does much to reconcile
me to what I own is a disappointment."
Having thus gilded the pill, Mr. Garden shook hands with
Henry Little, and conducted him politely to the street-door.
The young man went away slowly; for he was disconsolate
at not seeing Grace.
But when he got home, his stout Anglo-Saxon heart
reacted, and he faced the situation.
He went to his mother and told her what had passed. She
coloured with indignation, but said nothing.
" Well, mother, of course, it might be better; but then
it might be worse. It's my own fault now if I lose her.
Cutlery won't do it in the time, but Invention will: so, from
this hour, I'm a practical inventor, and nothing but death
sbaU stop me."



-UT YOURSEL4F IN HIS PLACES.

CHAPTER XXVII.
GRACE CARDEN ran to the window, and saw Henry Little go
away slowly, and hanging his head. This visible dejection
in her manly lover made her heart rise to her throat, and
she burst out sobbing and weeping with alarming violence.
Mr. Garden found her in this state, and set himself to
soothe her.  He told her the understanding he had come
to with Mr. Little, and begged her to be as reasonable and
as patient as her lover was. But the appeal was not successful. " He came to see me," she cried, " and he has gone
away without seeing me. You have begun to break both our
hearts, with your reason and your prudence. One comfort,
mine will break first; I have not his fortitude.  Oh, my
poor Henry! He has gone away, hanging his head, brokenhearted: and that is what you have done for me. After that,
what are words?  Air-air; and you can't feed hungry hearts
with air.
" Well, my child, I am sorry now I did not bring him in
here. But I really did it for the best. I wished to spare
you farther agitation."
" Agitation! " And she opened her eyes with astonishment. "Why, it is you who agitate me. He would have
soothed me in a moment. One kind and hopeful word from
him, one tender glance of his dear eye, one pressure of his dear
hard hand, and I could have borne anything; but that drop of
comfort you denied us both. Oh, cruel! cruel!"
" Calm yourself, Grace, and remember whom you are
speaking to. It was an error in judgment, perhaps-nothing
more."
" But, then, if you know nothing about love, and its soothing
power, why meddle with it at all? "
" Grace," said Mr. Garden, sadly, but firmly, "we poor
parents are all prepared for this. After many years of love and
tenderness bestowed on our offspring, the day is sure to come
when the young thing we have reared with so much care and
tenderness will meet a person of her own age, a stranger; and,
in a month or two, all our love, our care, our anxiety, our
hopes, will be nothing in the balance. This wound is in store
for us all. We foresee it; we receive it; we groan under it;
we forgive it. We go patiently on, and still give our ungrateful
children tho benefit of cc"- love and our penricse. I have



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

287

seen in my own family that horrible mixture, Gentility and
Poverty. In our class of life, poverty is not only poverty; it is
misery, and meanness as well. My income dies with me. My
daughter and her children shall not go back to the misery and
meanness out of which I have struggled. They shall be secured
against it by law, before she marries, or she shall marry under
her father's curse."
Then Grace was frightened, and said she should never
marry under her father's curse; but (with a fresh burst of
weeping) what need was there to send Henry away without
seeing her, and letting them comfort each other under this
sudden affliction. "Ah, I was too happy this morning," said
the poor girl. " I was singing before breakfast. Jael always
told me not to do that. Oh! oh! oh! '
Mr. Carden kept silence; but his fortitude was sorely tried.
That day Grace pleaded headache, and did not appear to
dinner. Mr. Carden dined alone, and missed her bright face
sadly. He sent his love to her, and went off to the Club, not
very happy. At the Club he met Mr. Coventry, and told him
frankly what he had done. Mr. Coventry, to his surprise,
thanked him warmly. " She will be mine in two years," said
he. "Little will never be able to make a settlement on her."
This remark set Mr. Carden thinking.
Grace watched the window day after day, but Henry never
came nor passed. She went a great deal more than usual into
the town, in hopes of meeting him by the purest accident. She
longed to call on Mrs. Little, but feminine instinct withheld
her; she divined that Mrs. Little must be deeply offended.
She fretted for a sight of Henry, and for an explanation, in
which she might clear herself, and show her love, without being
in the least disobedient to her father. Now all this was too
subtle to be written. So she fretted and pined for a meeting.
While she was in this condition, and losing colour every
day, who should call one day-to reconnoitre, I suppose-but
Mr. Coventry.
Grace was lying on the sofa, languid and distraite, when he
was announced. She sat up directly, and her eye kindled.
Mr. Coventry came in with his usual grace and cat-like step.
' Ah, Miss Carden!"
Miss Carden rose majestically to her feet, made him a
formal curtsey, and swept out of the room, without deigning
him a word. She went to the study, and said,  a Papa, here '
a friend of yours-Mr. Qoventrx."



Z0       PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
' Dear me, I am very busy. I wish you would amuse him
for a few minutes till I have finished this letter."
"Excuse me, papa, I cannot stay in the same room with
Mr. Coventry."
"Why not, pray?"
"iHe is a dangerous man: lie compromises one. He
offered me an engagement-ring, and I refused it; yet he madr
you believe we were engaged. You have taken care I shall no,
be compromised with the man I love; and shall I be compromised with the man I don't care for?  No, thank you."
" Very well, Grace," said Mr. Garden, coldly.
Shortly after this Mr. Carden requested Dr. Amboyne to
call; he received the Doctor in his study, and told him that he
was beginning to be uneasy about Grace; she was losing her
appetite, her colour, and her spirits. Should he send her to
the sea-side?
" The sea-side! I distrust conventional remedies. Let me
see the patient."
He entered the room and found her colouring a figure she
had drawn: it was a beautiful woman, with an anchor at her
feet. The door was open, and the Doctor, entering softly, saw
a tear fall on the work from a face so pale, and worn with
pining, that he could hardly repress a start: he did repress it
though, for starts are unprofessional; he shook hands with her
in his usual way. " Sorry to hear you are indisposed, my dear
Miss Grace."   He then examined her tongue, and felt her
pulse: and then he sat down, right before her, and fixed his
eyes on her. " How long have you been unwell? "
" I am not unwell that I know of," said Grace, a little
sullenly.
" One reason I ask, I have another patient, who has been
attacked somewhat in the same way."
Grace coloured, and fixed a searching eye on the Doctor.
SDo I know the lady?"
" No. For it happens to be a male patient."
" Perhaps it is going about."
*" Possibly: this is the age of competition. Still it is hard
you can't have a little malady of this kind all to yourself; don't
you think so? "
At this Grace laughed hysterically.
" Come, none of that before me," said the Doctor, sternly.
She stopped directly, frightened. The Doctor smiled.
Mr. Garden peeped in from his study.  - When you have



PUT YOUBSELF IN HIS PLACE.             289
done with her, come and prescribe for me. I am a little out of
sorts too."  With this, he retired. "That means you are to
go and tell him what is the matter with me," said Grace,
bitterly.
"Is his curiosity unjustifiable?"
"Oh no. Poor papa! "   Then she asked him drily if he
knew what was the matter with her.
"I think I do."
"Then cure me."   This, with haughty incredulity.
"I'll try; and a man can but do his best. I'll tell you one
thing; if I can't cure you, no doctor in the world can: see how
modest I am. Now for papa."
She let him go to the very door: and then a meek little
timid voice said, in a scarce audible murmur, " Doctor! "
Now when this meek murmur issued from a young lady who
had, up to this period of the interview, been rather cold and
cutting, the sagacious Doctor smiled. " My dear? " said he,
in a very gentle voice.
"Doctor! about your other patient?"
" Well? "
"Is he as bad as I am?   For indeed, my dear friend, I
feel-my food has no taste-life itself no savour. I used to go
singing, now I sit sighing. Is he as bad as I am? "
" I'll tell you the truth: his malady is as strong as yours;
but he has the great advantage of being a man; and, again, of
being a man of brains. He is a worker, and an inventor; and
now, instead of succumbing tamely to his disorder, he is
working double tides, and inventing with all his might, in order
to remove an obstacle between him and one he loves with all
his manly soul. A contest so noble and so perpetual sustains
and fortifies the mind. He is indomitable; only, at times, his
heart of steel will soften, and then he has fits of deep dejection
and depression, which I mourn to see; for his manly virtues,
and his likeness to one I loved deeply in my youth, have made
him dear to me."
During this Grace turned her head away, and, ere the
Doctor ended, her tears were flowing freely; for to her, being
a woman, this portrait of a male struggle with sorrow was far
more touching than any description of feminine andunresisted
grief could be: and, when the Doctor said he loved his patient,
she stole her little hand into his in a way to melt Old Nick, if
he is a male, Ladies, forgive the unchivalrous doubt.



Zt)          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Doctor," said she, affecting all of a sudden a little air of
small sprightliness, very small, "now, do-you-think-it
would do your patient-the least good in the world-if you
were to take him this?"
She handed him her work, and then she blushed divinely.
"Why, it is a figure of Hope."
"Yes."
" I think it might do him a great deal of good."
"You could say I painted it for him."
" So I wilL  That will do him no harm neither. Shall I
say I found you crying over it? "
" Oh, no I no! That would make him cry too, perhaps."
"Ah, I forgot that. Grace, you are an angel."
"Ah, no. But you can tell him I am-    if you think so.
That will do him no great harm-will it? "
" Not an atom to him; but it will subject me to a pinch for
stale news. There, give me my patient's picture, and let me go."
She kissed the little picture half-furtively, and gave it him,
and let him go; only, as he went out at the door, she murmured,
" Come often."
Now, when this artful doctor got outside the door, his face
became grave all of a sudden, for he had seen enough to give
him a degree of anxiety he had not betrayed to his interesting
patient herself.
" Well, Doctor? " said Mr. Garden, affecting more cheerfulness than he felt. "Nothing there beyond your skill, I
suppose? "
" Her health is declining rapidly. Pale, hollow-eyed, listless, languid-not the same girl."
" Is it bodily, do you think, or only mental?"
'Mental as to its cause; but bodily in the result. The
two things are connected in all of us, and very closely in Miss
Carden. Her organization is fine, and, therefore, subtle. She
is tuned in a high key. Her sensibility is great; and tough
folk, like you and me, must begin by putting ourselves in het
place before we prescribe for her, otherwise our harsh hands
may crush a beautiful, but too tender, flower."
" Good heavens! " said Garden, beginning to be seriously
alarmed; " do you mean to say you think, if this goes on, she
will be in any danger? "
"1 Why, if it were to go on at the same rate, it would be
very serious. She must have lost a stone in weight already."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

291

" What, my child I my sweet Grace!  Is it possible her
life?9- "
" And do you think your daughter is not mortal like other
people?  The young girls that are carried past your door to
the churchyard one after another, had they no fathers? "
At this blunt speech the father trembled from head to
foot.
CHAPTER       XXVIII.
"DOCTOR," said Mr. Garden, "you are an old friend, and a
discreet man; I will confide the truth to you."
" You may save yourself the trouble. I have watched the
whole progress of this amour up to the moment when you gave
them the advantage of your paternal wisdom, and made them
both miserable."
" It is very unreasonable of them, to be miserable."
" Oh, lovers parted could never yet make themselves happy
with reason."
" But why do you say parted? All I said was ' no engagement till you can make a settlement; and don't compromise
her in the meanwhile.' I did not mean to interdict occasional
visits."
" Then why not say so?  That is so like people.  You
made your unfavourable stipulation plain enough; but the
little bit of comfort, you left that in doubt.  This comes of
not putting yourself in his place. I have had a talk with him
about it, and he thinks he is not to show his face here till he
is rich enough to purchase your daughter of you."
" But I tell you he has misunderstood me."
" Then write to him and say so."
" No, no; you take an opportunity to let him know he has
really rather overrated my severity, and that I trust to his
honour, and do not object to a visit-say once a week."
"It is a commission I will undertake with pleasure."
"And do you really think that will do her bodily health
any good? "
Before Doctor Amboyne could reply, the piano was suddenly
touched in the next room, and a sweet voice began to sing a
cheerful melody. " Hush! " said Doctor Amboyne. " Surely
I know that tune. "Yes, I have heard the other whistle it."
u2



292          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Sle has not sung for ever so long," remarked Mr. Garden
"And I think I can tell you why she is singing now:
look at this picture of Hope; I just told her I had a male
patient afflicted with her complaint, and the quick-witted
creature asked me directly if I thought this picture would do
him any good. I said Yes, and I'd take it to him."
" Come, Doctor, that couldn't make her sing."
' Why not?   Heart can speak to heart, even by a flower
or a picture.  The separation was complete; sending this
symbol has broken it a little, and so she is singing. This is a
lesson for us ruder and less subtle spirits. Now mind, thwarted
love seldom kills a busy man; but it often kills an idle woman,
and your daughter is an idle woman.  He is an iron pot, she
is a china vase. Please don't hit them too hard with the
hammer of paternal wisdom, or you will dent my iron pot,
and break your china vase to atoms."
Having administered this warning, Dr. Amboyne went
straight from Woodbine Villa to Little's factory; but Little
was still in London; he had gone there to take out patents.
Bayne promised to send the Doctor a line immediately on his
return.  Nevertheless, a fortnight elapsed, and then Doctor
Amboyne received a short mysterious line to tell him Mr. Little
had come home, and would be all the better of a visit.  On
receipt of this the Doctor went at once to the works, and found
young Little lying on his carpenter's bench in a sort of gloomy
apathy. "Hallo " said the Doctor, in his cheerful way,
"why what's the matter now? "
"I'm fairly crushed," groaned the inventor.
"And what has crushed you? "
"The roundabout swindle."
" There, now, he invents words as well as things. Come,
tell me all about the roundabout swindle."
" No, no; I haven't the heart left to go through it all
again, even in words.  One would think an inventor was the
enemy of the human race.  Yes, I will tell you; the sight ol
you has revived me a bit; it always does.  Well, then, you
know I am driven to invention now; it is my only chance:
and, ever since Mr. Garden spoke to me, I have given my
whole soul to the best way of saw-grinding by machinery. The
circular saws beat me, for a while, but I mastered them: see,
there's the model.  I'm going to burn it this very afternoon.
Well, a month ago, I took the other model-the long-saw
grinder--up to London, to patent the invention, as you advised



PUT YoTJiftSEst', (N HIS PLAMcI2

293

me,.  I thought I'd just have to exhibit the model, and lodge
the description in some Government office, and pay a fee, of
course, to some swell, and so be quit of it. Lord bless youfirst I had to lay the specification before the Court of Chancery,
and write a petition to the Queen, and pay, and, what is worse,
wait. When I had paid, and waited, I got my petition signed,
not by the Queen, but by some Go-between, and then I must
take it to the Attorney-General. He made me pay-and wait.
When I had waited ever so long, I was sent back to where I
had come from-the Home Office. But even then I could not
get to the Queen.  Another of her Go-betweens nailed me,
and made me pay, and wait: these locusts steal your time as
well as your money. At last, a copy of a copy of a copy of my
patent got to the Queen, and she signed it like a lady at once,
and I got it back.  Then I thought I was all right.  Not a
bit of it: the Queen's signature wasn't good till another of
her Go-betweens had signed it.  I think it was the Home
Secretary this time. This Go-between bled me again, and sent
me, with my hard-earned signatures, to the Patent Office.
There they drafted, and copied, and docketed, and robbed me
of more time and money.  And, when all was done, I had to
take the document back to one of the old Go-betweens that I
hoped I had worn out-the Attorney-General.   He signed,
and bled me out of some more money. From him to the other
Go-betweens at Whitehall.  From them to the Stamp Office,
if I remember right, and, oh Lord, didn't I fall among leeches
there?  They drafted, they copied, they engrossed, they
juggled me out of time and money without end.  The first
leech was called the Lord Keeper of the Seal; the second
leech was called the Lord Chancellor; it was some Go-between
that acted in his name: the third leech was the Clerk of the
Patents.  They demanded more copies, and then employed
more Go-betweens to charge ten times the value of a copy, and
nailed the balance, no doubt. ' Stand and deliver thirty pounds
for this stamp.' ' Stand and deliver to me that call myself
the Chancellor's purse-bearer-and there's no such creaturetwo guineas.' ' Stand and deliver seven, thirteen, to the Clerk
of the Hanaper '-and there's no such thing as a Hanaper.
'Stand and deliver three, five,' to a Go-between that calls himself the Lord Chancellor again, and isn't. ' Stand and deliver
six, nought, to a Go-between that acts for the deputy, that
ought to put a bit of sealing-wax on the patent, but hasn't the
brains to do it himself, so you must pay me a fancy price for



294           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
doing it, and then I won't do it; it will be done by a clerk at
twenty-five shillings a week.  And, all this time, mind you,
no disposition to soften all this official peculation by civility;
no misgiving that the next wave of civilization may sweep all
these Go-betweens and leeches out of the path of progress; no,
the deputy-vice-Go-betweens all scowled, as well as swindled:
they broke my heart so, often I sat down in their antethambers, and the scalding tears ran down my cheeks, at being
pillaged of my time as well as my money, and treated like a
criminal-for what?  For being, in my small way, a national
benefactor."
" Ay," said the Doctor, " you had committed the crime of
Brains; and the worse crime of declining to be starved in
return for them. I don't rebel against the fees so much:
their only fault is that they are too heavy, since the monopoly
they profess to secure is short-lived, and yet not very secure;
the Lord Chancellor, as a judge, has often to upset the patent
which he has sold in another character. But that system of
go-betweens, and deputy-go-betweens, and deputy-lieutenantgo-betweens, and of nobody doing his own business in matters
of State, it really is a national curse, and a great blot upon
the national intellect. It is a disease; so let us name it.
We doctors are great at naming diseases; greater than at
curing them.
Let us call it VICARIA,
This English malaria.
Of this Vicaria, the loss of time and money you have suffered
is only one of the fruits, I think."
" All I know is, they made my life hell for more than a
month; and if I have ever the misfortune to invent anything
more, I'll keep it to myself. I'll hide it, like any other crime.
But no; I never will invent another thing: never, never."
" Stuff   Methinks I hear a duck abjure natation. You
can't help inventing."
"I will help it. What, do you think I'll be such an ass
as to have Brains in a country where Brains are a crime?
Doctor, I'm in despair."
" Then it is time to cast your eyes over this little picture."
The inventor turned the little picture listlessly about. "It
is a woman, with an anchor. It's a figure of Hope."
" Beautifully painted, is it not? "
" The tints are well laid on: but, if you'll excuse me, it is
rather flat."  He laid the picture down, and turned away



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             2 5
from it. "Ah, Hope, my lass, you've come to the wrong
shop."
" Not she. She was painted expressly for you, and by a
very beautiful girl."
" Oh, Doctor, not by-"
"Yes; she sends it you."
" Ah I " And he caught Hope up, and began to devour
her with kisses, and his eyes sparkled finely.
" I have some good news, too, for you. Mr. Garden tells
me he never intended to separate you entirely from his daughter.
If you can be moderate, discreet, old before your time, etc.,
and come only about once a week, and not compromise her
publicly, you will be as welcome as ever."
" That is good news, indeed. I'll go there this very day;
and I'll patent the circular saw."
" There's a non-sequitur for you I "
"Nothing of the kind, sir. Why, even the Queen's Gobetweens will never daunt me, now I can go and drink love
and courage direct from her eyes; nothing can chill nor discourage me now. I'll light my forge again, and go to work,
and make a few sets of carving-tools, and that will pay the
Go-betweens for patenting my circular saw-grinder. But first
I'll put on my coat and go to heaven."
" Had you not better postpone that till the end of your
brilliant career as an inventor and a lover? "
" No; I thirst for heaven, and I'll drink it."  So he made
his toilet, thanked and blessed the good Doctor, and off to
Woodbine Villa.
Grace Garden saw him coming, and opened the door to
him herself, red as scarlet, and her eyes swimming. She
scarcely made an effort to contain herself this time, and when
she got him into the drawing-room all to herself, she cried, for
joy and tenderness, on his shoulder; and it cost him a gulp or
two, I can tell you: and they sat hand in hand, and were
never tired of gazing at each other: and the hours flew by
unheeded. All their trouble was as though it had never been.
Love brightened the present, the future, and even the past.
He did not tell Grace one word of what he had suffered 1from
Vicaria-I thank thee, Doctor, for teaching me that word-it
had lost all interest to him. Love and happiness had annihilated its true character-like the afternoon sun gilding a far-off
pigsty.
He did mention the subject, however, but it was in these



9uti         PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACI.
terms: " And, dearest, I'm hard at work inventing, and I patent
all my inventions; so I hope to satisfy your father before two
years."
And Grace said, " Yes, but don't overwork your poor brain,
and worry yourself. I am yours in heart, and that is something, I hope. I know it is to me; I wouldn't change with
any wife in Christendom."
CHAPTER XXIX.
AT the end of two months the situation of affairs was as
follows:Grace Garden received a visit every week from Henry, and
met him now and then at other houses: she recovered her
health and spirits, and, being of a patient sex, was quite
contented, and even happy. Frederick Coventry visited her
often, and she received his visits quite graciously, now that
the man she loved was no longer driven from her. She even
pitied him, and was kind to him, and had misgivings that she
had used him ill.   This feeling he fostered, by a tender,
dejected, and inoffensive manner. Boiling with rage inside,
this consummate actor had the art to feign resignation;
whereas, in reality, he was secretly watching for an opportunity
to injure his rival. But no such opportunity came.
Little, in humble imitation of his sovereign, had employed
a Go-between to employ a Go-between, to deal with the state
Go-betweens and deputy Go-betweens, that hampered the purchase-the word "grant" is out of place, bleeding is no boon
-of a patent from the crown, and by this means he had done,
in sixty days, what a true inventor will do in twenty-four hours,
whenever the various metallic ages shall be succeeded by the
age of reason; he had secured his two saw-grinding inventions,
by patent, in Great Britain, the Canadas, and the United
States of America. He had another invention perfected: it
was for forging axes and hatchets by machinery: but this he
did not patent: he hoped to find his remuneration in the prior
use of it for a few months. Mere priority is sometimes of
great advantage in this class of invention, and there are no
fees to pay for it, nor deputy-lieutenant-vice-Go-betweens'
antchambers, for genius to coo-its heels and heart in.



PVTt YOU1ItELF hIN HIS PLACE2

297

But one thing soon became evident. He could not work
his inventions without a much larger capital.
Dr. Amboyne and he put their heads together over this
difficulty, and the Doctor advised him in a more erudite style
than usual.
" True invention," said he, " whether literary or mechanical, is the highest and hardest effort of the mind. It is an
operation so absorbing, that it often weakens those pettier
talents, which make what we call the clever man. Therefore
the inventor should ally himself with some person of talent
and energy, but no invention. Thus supported, he can have
his fits of abstraction, his headaches, his heart-aches, his
exultations, his depressions, and no harm done; his dogged
associate will plough steadily on all the time. So, after all,
your requiring capital is no great misfortune; you must look
out for a working capitalist. No sleeping partner will serve
your turn; what you want is a good, rich, vulgar, energetic
man, the pachydermatouser the better."
Henry acted on this advice, and went to London in search
of a moneyed partner. Oh, then it was he learnedThe hell it is in suing long to bide.
He found capitalists particularly averse to speculate in a
patent. It took him many days to find out what moneyed men
were open to that sort of thing at all; and, when he got to
them, they were cold. They had all been recently bitten by
hare-brained inventors.
Then he represented that it was a matter of judgment, and
offered to prove by figures that his saw-grinding machines
must return three hundred per cent. Those he applied to
would not take the trouble to study his figures. In other
words he came at the wrong time. And the wrong time is as
bad as the wrong thing, or worse. Take a note of that please;
and then forget it.
At last he gave up London in despair, and started for
Birmingham.
The train stopped at Tring, and, as it was going on again,
a man ran towards the third-class carriage Little was seated
in. One of the servants of the company tried to stop him,
very properly. He struggled with that official, and eventually
shook him off. Meantime the train was accelerating its pace.
In spite of that, this personage made a run and a bound, and,
half leaping, half scrambling, got his head and shoulders over
the door, and there oscillated, till Little grabbed him with



298

2PUT YOURlSE&LF IN HIS PhA'3M,

both hands, and drew him powerfully in, and admonished him,
"That is a fool-hardy trick, sir, begging your pardon."
" Young man," panted the invader, " do you know who
you're a-speaking to? "
" No. The Emperor of China?"
" No such trash; it's Ben Bolt, a man that's bad to beat."
" Well, you'll get beat some day, if you go jumping in and
out of trains in motion."
" A many have been killed that way," suggested a huge
woman in the coner, with the meekest and most timid voice
imaginable.
Mr. Bolt eyed the speaker with a humourous glance.
S"Well, if I'm ever killed that way, I'll send you a letter by
the post. Got a sweetheart, ma'am? "
" I've got a good husband, sir," said she, with mild dignity,
and pointed to a thin, sour personage opposite, with his nose in
a newspaper. Deep in some public question, he ignored this
little private inquiry.
" That's unlucky," said Bolt, " for here am I, just landed
from Victoria, and money in both pockets. And where do you
think I am going now? to Chester, to see my father and
mother, and show them I was right after all. They wanted
me to go to school: I wouldn't. Leathered me; I howled,
but wouldn't spell; I was always bad to beat. Next thing
was, they wanted to make a tanner of me. I wouldn't. ' Give
me fifty pounds and let me try the world,' says I.  They
wouldn't. We quarrelled. My uncle interfered one day, and
gave me fifty pounds. ' Go to the devil,' said he, 'if you like;
so as you don't come back.' I went to Sydney, and doubled
my fifty; got a sheep-run, and turned my hundred into a
thousand. Then they found gold, and that brought up a dozen
ways of making money, all of 'em better than digging. Why,
ma'am, I made ten thousand pounds by selling the beastliest
lemonade you ever tasted for gold-dust at the mines. That
was a good swop, wasn't it?  So now I'm come home to see if
I can stand the old country and its ways; and I'm going to see
the old folk. I haven't heard a word about them this twenty
years."
" Oh, dear, sir," said the meek woman, "twenty years is a
long time. I hope you won't find them dead an' buried."
" Don't say that; don't say that! " And the tough, rough
man showed a grain of feeling. He soon recovered himself,
though, and said more obstreperously than ever, " If they are,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.            299
I disown 'em. None of your faint-hearted people for me. 1
despise a chap that gives in before eighty. I'm Ben Bolt, that
is bad to beat. Death himself isn't going to bowl me out till
I've had my innings."
" La, sir; pray don't talk so, or you'll anger them above,
and ten to one upset the train."
" That's one for me, and two for yourself, ma'am."
"Yes, sir," said the mild soul. "I have got my husband
with me, and you are only a bachelor, sir."
" How d'ye know that? "
" I think you'd ha' been softened down a bit, if you'd ever
had a good wife."
" Oh, it is because I speak loud. That is with bawling to
my shepherds half a mile off. Why, if I'm loud, I'm civil.
Now, young man, what is your trouble?"
Henry started from his reverie, and looked astonished.
"Out with it," shouted Mr. Bolt; " don't set grizzling
there. What with this lady's husband, dead and buried in
that there newspaper, and you, that sets brooding like.a hen
over one egg, it's a Quakers' meeting, or nearly. If you've
been and murdered anybody, tell us all about it. Once off your
mind, you'll be more sociable."
"A man's thoughts are his own, Mr. Bolt. I'm not so
fond of talking about myself as you seem to be."
" Oh, I can talk, or I can listen. But you won't do neither.
Pretty company you are, a-hatching of your egg."
" Well, sir," said the meek woman to Henry, "the rough
gentleman he is right. If you are in trouble, the best way is
to let your tongue put it off your heart."
"I'm sure you are very kind," said Henry, "but really
my trouble is one of those out-of-the-way things that do not
interest people. However, the long and the short is, I'm an
inventor. I have invented several things, and kept them dark,
and they have paid me. I live at Hillsborough. But now I
have found a way of grinding long saws and circular saws by
machinery, at a saving of five hundred per cent labour. That
saving of labour represents an enormous profit-a large fortune;
so I have patented the invention, at my own expense. But I
can't work it without a capitalist. Well, I have ransacked
London, and all the moneyed men shy me. The fools will go
into railways, and bubbles, and a lot of things that are blind
chance, but they won't even study my drawings and figures,
and I've made it clear enough too."



j0U          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" I'm not of their mind, then," said Bolt. "My rule is
never to let another man work my money. No railway shares
nor gold mines for Ben Bolt. My money goes with me, and I
goes with my money."
" Then you are a man of sense; and I only wish you had
money enough to go into this with me."
"How do you know how much money I've got?       You
show me how to turn twenty thousand into forty thousand, or
forty thousand into eighty thousand, and I'll soon find the
money."
" Oh, I could show you how to turn fifteen thousand into
fifty thousand." He then unlocked his black bag, and showed
Bolt some drawings that represented the grinders by hand at
work on long saws and circular saws. " This," said he, " is
the present system." He then pointed out its defects. " And
this," said he, " is what I propose to substitute." Then he
showed him drawings of his machines at work. " And these
figures represent the saving in labour. Now, in this branch of
cutlery, the labour is the manufacturer's main expense. Make
ten men grind what fifty used, you put forty workmen's wages
in your pocket."
" That's tall talk."
"Not an inch taller than the truth."
Mr. Bolt studied the drawings, and, from obstreperous,
became quite quiet and absorbed. Presently he asked Henry
to change places with him; and, on this being complied with,
he asked the meek woman to read him Henry's figures slowly.
She stared, but complied. Mr. Bolt pondered the figures, and
examined the drawings again. He then put a number of questions to Henry, some of them very shrewd: and, at last, got so
interested in the affair, that he would talk of nothing else.
As the train slackened for Birmingham, he said to Henry,
"I'm no great scholar; I like to see things in the body. On
we go to Hillsborough."
" But I want to talk to a capitalist or two at Birmingham.'
" That is not fair; I've got the refusal."
" The deuce you have "
" Yes, I've gone into it with you; and the others wouldn't
listen. Said so yourself."
" Well, but, Mr. Bolt, are you really in earnest? Surely
this is quite out of your line? "
" How can it be out of my line if it pays? I've bought
and sold sheep, and wool, and land, and water, and houses,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

801

and tents, and old clothes, and coffee, and tobacco, and cabs.
And swopped--my eye, how I have swopped! I've swopped
a housemaid under articles for a pew in the church, and a
milch cow for a whale that wasn't even killed yet; I paid for
the chance. I'm at all in the ring, and devilish bad to beat.
Here goes-high, low, jack, and the game."
"Did you ever deal in small beer?"      asked Henry,
satirically.
" No," said Bolt, innocently. " But I would in a minute
if I saw clear to the nimble shilling. Well, will you come on
to Hillsborough and settle this?  I've got the refusal for
twenty-four hours I consider."
" Oh, if you think so, I will go on to Hillsborough. But
you said you were going to see your parents, after twenty
years' absence and silence."
" So I am; but they can keep: what signifies a day or two
more after twenty years? "  He added, rather severely, as one
whose superior age entitled him to play the monitor, 1" Young
man, I never make a toil of a pleasure."
" No more do I. But how does that apply to visiting your
parents? "
" If I was to neglect business to gratify my feelings, I
should be grizzling all the time; and wouldn't that be making
a toil of a pleasure? "
Henry could only grin in reply to this beautiful piece of
reasoning; and that same afternoon the pair were in Hillsborough, and Mr. Bolt, under Henry's guidance, inspected the
grinding of heavy saws, both long and circular. He noted, at
Henry's request, the heavy, dirty labour. He then mounted
to the studio, and there Henry lectured on his models, and
showed them working. Bolt took it all in, his eye flashed,
and then he put on, for the first time, the coldness of the
practised dealer. "It would take a good deal of money to
work this property," said he, shaking his head.
" It has taken a good deal of brains to invent it."
" No doubt, no doubt. Well, if you want me to join you,
it must be on suitable terms. Money is tight."
" Well, propose your own terms."
"That's not my way. I'll think it over before I put my
hand to paper. Give me till to-morrow."
" Certainly."
On this Mr. Bolt went off as if he had been shot.
He returned next day, and laid before Henry an agreement



302           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
drawn by the sharpest attorney in Hillsborough, and written m
a clerk's hand. " There," said he, briskly, "you sign that,
and I'll make my mark, and at it we go."
" Stop a bit," said Henry. " You've been to a lawyer,
have you?    Then I must go to one too; fair play's a
jewel."
Bolt looked disappointed; but the next moment he affected
cheerfulness, and said, " That is fair. Take it to your lawyer
directly."
" I will," said Henry; but, instead of a lawyer, he took it
to his friend Doctor Amboyne, told him all about Ben Bolt,
and begged his advice on the agreement. " Ought he to have
the lion's share like this? "
" The moneyed man generally takes that. No commodity
is sold so far beyond its value as money. Let me read it."
The purport of the agreement was as follows:-New premises to be built by Bolt, a portion of the building to be constructed so that it could be easily watched night and day, and
in that part the patent saw-grinding machines to be worked.
The expenses of this building to be paid off by degrees out of
the gross receipts, and meanwhile Mr. Bolt was to receive five
per cent. interest for his outlay and two-thirds of the profits, if
any. Mr. Little to dispose of his present factory, and confine
his patents to the joint operation.
Dr. Amboyne, on mature consideration, advised Little to
submit to all the conditions, except the clause confining his
operations and his patents. They just drew their pen through
that clause, and sent the amended agreement to Bolt's hotel.
He demurred to the amendment; but Henry stood firm, and
proposed a conference of four. This took place at Dr. Amboyne's house, and, at last, the agreement was thus modified:
the use of the patents in Hillsborough to be confined to the firm
of Bolt and Little; but Little to be free to sell them, or work
them, in any other town, and also free, in Hillsborough, to
grind saws by hand, or do any other established operation of
cutlery.
The parties signed; and Bolt went to work in earnest.
With all his resolution, he did not lack prudence. He went
into the suburbs for his site, and bought a large piece of
ground. He advertised for contracts and plans, and brought
them all to Henry, and profited by his practical remarks.
He warned the builders it must be a fortress, as well as a
factory; but, at Henry's particular request, he withheld the
a



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              80o
precise reason.  "I'm not to be rattened," said he. "I
mean to stop that little game. I'm Ben Bolt, that's bad to
beat."
At last the tender of Mr. White was accepted, and, as
Mr. Bolt, experienced in the delays of builders, tied him tight
as to time, he, on his part, made a prompt and stringent contract with Messrs. Whitbread, the brickmakers, and began to
dig the foundations.
All this Henry communicated to Grace, and was in high
spirits over it, and then so was she. He had a beautiful frame
made for the little picture she had given him, and hung it up in
his studio. It became the presiding genius, and indeed the
animating spirit, of his life.
Both to him and Grace the bright and hopeful period of
their love had cpme at last. Even Bolt contributed something
to Little's happiness. The man, hard as he was in business,
was not without a certain rough geniality; and then he was so
brisk and bustling. His exuberant energy pleased the inventor,
and formed an agreeable relief to his reveries and deep fits of
study.
The prospect was bright, and the air sunny. In the midst
of all which there rose in the horizon a cloud, like that seen by
Elijah's servant, a cloud no bigger than a man's hand.
Bolt burst into the studio one day, like a shell, and, like a
shell, exploded.
"Here's a pretty go! We are all at a standstill. The
brickmakers have struck."
"Why, what is the matter?"
"Fourpence. Young Whitbread, our brickmaker's son, is
like you-a bit of an inventor: he altered the shape of the
bricks to fit a small hand-machine, and Whitbread reckoned to
save tenpence a thousand. The brickmakers objected directly.
Whitbreads didn't want a row, so they offered to share the
profit. The men sent two of their orators to parley: I was
standing by Whitbread when they came up; you should have
heard 'em; anybody would have sworn the servants were
masters, and the masters negro slaves. When the servants
had hectored a bit, the masters, meek and mild, said they
would give them sixpence out of the tenpence sooner than
they should feel dissatisfied. No; that wouldn't do, 'Well,
then,' says young Whitbread, ' are you agreed what will do?'
'Well,' said one of the servants, 'we will allow you to make
the bricks, if you give us the tenpence.' "



304           PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.
" That was cool," said Henry. " To be sure, all brainless
beggars try to starve invention."
" Yes, my man; and you grumbled at my taking twothirds. Labour is harder on you inventors than capital is, you
see. Well, I told 'em I wondered at their cheek; but the old
man stopped me, and spoke quite mild: says he, ' You are too
hard on us; we ought to gain a trifle by our own improvement; if it had come from you, we should pay you for it;' and
he should stand by his offer of sixpence. So then the men told
them it would be the worse for them, and the old gentleman
gave a bit of a sigh, and said he couldn't help that; he must
live in the trade, or leave it, he didn't much care which. Next
morning they all struck work, and there we are-stopped."
" Well," said Henry, "' it is provoking; but you mustn't
ask me to meddle. It's your business."
" It is, and I'll show you I'm bad to beat." With this
doughty resolve he went off and drove the contractors: they
drove the brickmakers, and the brickmakers got fresh hands
from a distance, and the promise of some more.
Bolt rubbed his hands, and kept popping into the yard to
see how they got on. By this means he witnessed an incident
familiar to brickmakers in that district, but new to him. Suddenly loud cries of pain were heard, and two of the brickmakers
held up hands covered with blood, and transfixed by needles.
Some ruffian had filled the clay with needles. The sufferers
were both disabled, and one went to the hospital. Tempered
clay enough to make two hundred thousand bricks had been
needled, and had to be cleared away at a loss of time ard
material.
Bolt went and told Henry, and it only worried him; he
could do nothing. Bolt went and hired a watchman and a dog,
at his own expense. The dog was shot dead one dark night,
and the watchman's box turned over and sat upon, watchman
included, while the confederates trampled fifty thousand raw
bricks into a shapeless mass.
The brickmasters, however, stood firm, and at last four of
the old hands returned to him, and accepted the sixpence profit
due to the master's invention. These four were contribution
men, that is to say they paid the Union a shilling per week for
permission to make bricks; but this weekly payment was
merely a sort of black-mail, it entitled them to no relief from
the Union when out of work: so a three-weeks' strike brought
them to starvation, and they could co-operate n3 longer with



P
PUT YOURS~ELF IN 1118?LACE1

805

the genuine Union men, who were relieved from the box all
this time. Nevertheless, though their poverty, and not their
will, brought them back to work, they were all threatened, and
found themselves in a position that merits the sympathy of all
men, especially of the very poor. Starvation on one side, sanguinary threats on the other, from an Union which abandoned
them in their need, yet expected them to stick by it and starve.
In short, the said Union was no pupil of Amboyne; could not
put itself in the place of these hungry men, and realize their
dilemma; it could only see the situation from its own point of
view. From that intellectual defect sprang a crime. On a
certain dark night, Thomas Wilde, one of these contribution
men, was burning bricks all by himself, when a body of seven
men came crawling up to within a little distance. These men
were what they call "victims," i. e., men on strike, and receiving pay from the box.
Now when a man stands against the fire of a kiln, he can.
not see many yards from him; so five of the " victims " stood
waiting, and sent two forward. These two came up to Wilde,
and asked him a favour. " Eh, mister, can you let me and
my mate lie down for an hour by your fire? "
"You are welcome," said honest Wilde. He then turned
to break a piece of coal, and instantly one of those who had
accepted his hospitality struck him on the back of the head,
and the other five rushed in, and they all set on him, arid hit
him with cartlegs, and kicked him with their heavy shoes.
Overpowered as he was, he struggled away from them, groaning
and bleeding, and got to a shed about thirty yards off. But
these relentless men, after a moment's hesitation, followed him,
and rained blows and kicks on him again, till he gave himself
up for dead. He cried out in his despair, " Lord, have mercy
on me; they have finished me," and fainted away in a pool of
his own blood.   But, just before he became insensible, he
heard a voice say, " Thou'll burn no more bricks." Then the
" victims " retired, leaving this great criminal for dead.
After a long while he came to himself, and found his arm
was broken, and his body covered with cuts and bruises. His
house was scarcely a furlong distant, yet he was an hour
crawling to it. His room was up a short stair of ten steps.
The steps beat him: he leaned on the rail at the bottom, and
called out piteously, "My wife! my wife! my wife!" three times.
Mrs. Wilde ran down to him, and caught hold of his hand,
and said, " Whatever is to do 2 "



806           PUT YOURSELF IN 11IS PLACE.
When she took his hand the pain made him groan, and she
felt something drip on to her hand. It was blood from his
wounded arm.    Then she was terrified, and, strong with
excitement, she managed to get him into the house and lay
him on the floor. She asked him, had he fallen off the kiln?
He tried to reply, but could not, and fainted again. This time
he was insensible for several hours. In the morning he came
to, and told his cruel story to Whitbread, Bolt, and others.
Bolt and Whitbread took it most to heart.    Bolt went to
Mr. Ransome, and put the case in his hands.
Ransome made this remark:-" Ah, you are a stranger,
sir. The folks hereabouts never come to us in these Union
cases. I'll attend to it, trust me."
Bolt went with this tragedy to Henry, and it worried him;
but he could do nothing. " Mr. Bolt," said he, " I think you
are making your own difficulties. Why quarrel with the Brickmakers' Union? Surely that is superfluous."
"Why, it is them that quarrelled with me; and I'm Ben
Bolt that is bad to beat."  He armed himself with gun and
revolver, and watched the Whitbreads' yard himself at night.
Two days after this, young Whitbread's wife received an
anonymous letter, advising her, as a friend, to avert the impending fate of her husband, by persuading him to dismiss the
police and take back his Hands. The letter concluded with
this sentence, " He is generally respected; but we have come
to a determination to shoot him."
Young Whitbread took no apparent notice of this, and,
soon afterwards, the secretary of the Union proposed a conference. Bolt got wind of this, and was there when the orators
came. The deputation arrived, and, after a very short preamble,
offered to take the sixpence.
" Why," said Bolt, " you must be joking. Those are the
terms poor Wilde came back on, and you have hashed him for it."
Old Whitbread looked the men in the face, and said, gravely,
" You are too late. You have shed that poor man's blood, and
you have sent an anonymous letter to my son's wife. That
lady has gone on her knees to us to leave the trade, and we
have consented. Fifteen years ago, your Union wrote letters
of this kind to my wife (she was pregnant at the time), and
drove her into her grave, with fright and anxiety for her husband. You shall not kill Tom's wife as well. The trade is a
poor one at best, thanks to the way you have ground your employers down, and, when you add to that needling our clay, and



POT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              007
b~rning our gear, and beating our servants to death's door, and
driving our wives into the grave, we bid you good-by. Mr. Bolt,
I'm the sixth brickmaster this Union has driven out of the
trade by outrages during the last ten years."
" Thou's a wrong-headed old chap," said the Brickmakers'
spokesman: "but thou carn't run away with place. Them as
take it will have to take us on."
" Not so. We have sold our plant to the Barton Machine
Brickmaking Company; and you maltreated them so at starting
that now they won't let a single Union man set his foot on
their premises."
The company in question made bricks better and cheaper
than any other brickmaster; but, making them by machinery,
were always at war with the Brickmakers' Union, and, whenever a good chance occurred for destroying their property, it
was done.   They, on their part, diminished those chances
greatly by setting up their works five miles from the town, and
by keeping armed watchmen and police. Only these ran away
with their profits.
Now, when this company came so near the town, and proceeded to work up Whitbread's clay, in execution of the contract with which their purchase saddled them, the Brickmakers'
Union held a great meeting, in which full a hundred brickmakers took part, and passed extraordinary resolutions, and
voted extraordinary sums of money, and recorded both in their
books. These books were subsequently destroyed, for a reason
the reader can easily divine who has read this narrative with
his understanding.
Soon after that meeting, one Kay, a brickmaker, who was
never seen to make a brick, for the best of all reasons, he lived
by blood alone, was observed reconnoitring the premises, and
that very night a quantity of barrows, utensils, and tools, were
heaped together, naptha poured over them, and the whole set
on fire.
Another dark night, twenty thousand bricks were trampled
so noiselessly that the perpetrators were neither seen nor heard.
But Bolt hired more men, put up a notice he would shoot
any intruder dead, and so frightened them by his blustering
that they kept away, being cowards at bottom, and the bricks
were rapidly made, and burnt, and some were even delivered:
these bricks were carted from the yard to the building-site by
one Harris, who had nothing to do with the quarrel; he was a
carter by profession, and wheeled bricks for all the world.
x2



808           PUTf YOUl1S7LF  IN   S PLA6f.
One night this poor man's haystack and stable were all in
flames in a moment, and unearthly screams issued from the
latter.
The man ran out, half-naked, and his first thought was to
save his good grey mare from the fire. But this act of humanity
had been foreseen and provided against. The miscreants had
crept into the stable, and tied the poor docile beast fast by the
head to the rack; then fired the straw. Her screams were
such as no man knew a horse could utter. They pierced all
hearts, however hard, till her burnt body burst the burnt cords,
and all fell together. Man could not aid her. But God can
avenge her.
As if the poor thing could tell whether she was drawing
machine-made bricks, or hand-made bricks!
The incident is painful to relate; but it would be unjust to
omit. It was characteristic of that particular Union; and,
indeed, without it my reader could not possibly appreciate the
brickmaking mind at its just value.
Bolt went off with this to Little; but Amboyne was there,
and cut his tale short.  " I hope," said he, " that the common
Creator of the four-legged animal and the two-legged beasts
will see justice done between them; but you must not come
here tormenting my inventor with these horrors. Your business
is to relieve him of all such worries, and let him invent in peace."
" Yes," said Little, " and I have told Mr. Bolt we can't
avoid a difficulty with the cutlers. But the brickmakers, what
madness to go and quarrel with them! I will have nothing
to do with it, Mr. Bolt."
"The cutlers I   Oh, I don't mind them," said Bolt.
"They are angels compared with the brickmakers.        The
cutlers don't poison cows, and hamstring horses, and tie themn
to fire; the cutlers don't fling little boys into water-pits, and
knock down little girls with their fats, just because their
fathers are non-Union men; the cutlers don't strew poisoned
apples and oranges about, to destroy whole families like rats.
Why, sir, I have talked with a man the brickmakers tried to
throw into boiling lime; and another they tried to Poison with
beer, and, when he wouldn't drink it, threw vitriol in his eyes,
and he's blind of an eye to this day. There's full half-a-dozen
have had bottles of gunpowder and old nails flung into their
rooms, with lighted fuses, where they were sleeping with their
families; they call that ' bottling a man: ' it's a familiar
phrase.   I've seen three cripples crawling about that have



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

SO9

been set on by numbers and spoiled foi life, and as many fired
at in the dark; one has got a slug in his head to this day.
And, with all that, the greatest cowards in the world-daren't
face a man in daylight, any two of them; but I've seen the
woman they knocked down with their fists, and her daughter
too, a mere child at the time. No, the cutlers are men, but
the brickmakers are beasts."
" All the more reason for avoiding silly quarrels with the
brickmakers," said Little.
Thus snubbed, Mr. Bolt retired, muttering something
about " bad to beat."  He found Harris crying over the ashes
of his mare, and the man refused to wheel any more machinemade bricks. Other carters, being applied to, refused also.
They had received written warning, and dared not wheel one
of those bricks for their lives.
The invincible Bolt bought a cart and a horse, hired two
strangers, armed them and himself with revolvers, and carted
the bricks himself. Five brickmakers waylaid him in a narrow
lane; he took out his revolver, and told them he'd send them
all to hell if one laid a finger on him: at this rude observation
they fled like sheep.
The invincible carted his bricks by day, and at night rode
the horse away to an obscure inn, and slept beside him, armed
to the teeth.
The result of all which was that one day he burst into
Little's studio shouting " Victory! " and told him two hundred
thousand bricks were on the premises, and twenty bricklayers
would be at work on the foundations that afternoon.
Henry Little was much pleased at that, and when Bolt
-told him how he had carted the bricks in person, said, " You
are the man for me; you really are bad to beat."
While they were congratulating each other on this hardearned victory, Mr. Bayne entered softly, and said, " Mr.
White-to speak to Mr. Bolt."
" That is the builder," said Bolt. " Show him up."
Mr. White came in with a long face.
" Bad news, gentlemen; the Machine Brickmaking Company retires from business, driven out of trade by their repeated
losses from violence."
" All the worse for the nation," said Bolt: " houses are a
fancy article, got to be. But it doesn't matter to us. We
have got bricks enough to go on with."
' "Plety, sir; but that is 4ot where the shoe pimch~s



810           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
now. The Brickmakers' Union has made it right with the
Bricklayers' Union, and the Bricklayers' Union orders us to
cart back every one of those machine-made bricks to the
yard."
"See them -      first," said Bolt.
" Well, sir, have you considered the alternative?"
"Not I. What is it? "
"Not a bricklayer in Hillsboro', or for fifty miles round,
will set a brick for us: and if we get men from a distance they
will be talked away, or driven away, directly. The place is
picketed on every side at this moment."
Even Bolt was staggered now.   " What is to be done, I
wonder? "
" There's nothing to be done, but submit. When two
such powerful unions amalgamate, resistance is useless, and
the law of the land a dead letter. Mr. Bolt, I'm not a rich
man; I've got a large family; let me beg of you to release me
from the contract."
"White, you are a cur. Release you? never! "
"Then, sir, I'll go through the court, and release myself."
Henry Little was much dejected by this monstrous and
unforeseen obstacle arising at the very threshold of his hopes.
He felt so sad, that he determined to revive himself with a
sight of Grace Garden. He pined for her face and voice. So
he went up to Woodbine Villa, though it was not his day. As
he drew near that Paradise, the door opened, and Mr. Frederick
Coventry came out. The two men nearly met at the gate. The
rejected lover came out, looking bright and happy, and saw the
accepted lover arrive, looking depressed and careworn: he saw
in a moment something was going wrong, and turned on his
heel with a glance of triumph.,
Henry Little caught that glance, and stood at the gate
black with rage. He stood there about a minute, and then
walked slowly home again: he felt he should quarrel with
Grace if he went in, and, by a violent effort of self-restraint,
he retraced his steps; but he went home sick at heart.
The mother's eye read his worn face in a moment, and soon
she had it all out of him. It cost her a struggle not to vent
her maternal spleen on Grace; but she knew that would only
make her son more unhappy. She advised him minutely what
to say to the young lady about Mr. Coventry: and, as to the
other matters, she said, " You have found Mr. Bolt not so bad



PUT YOUThSELF IN HIS PLACE.

811

to beat as he tells you: for he is beaten, and there's an end of
him. Now let me try.'
"Why what on earth can you do in a case of this kind? "
SHave I ever failed, when you have accepted my assistance? "
" No: that's true. Well, I shall be glad of your assistance
now, heaven knows; only I can't imagine- "
" Never mind: will you take Grace Garden if I throw her
into your arms? "
" Oh, mother, can you ask me? "
Mrs. Little rang the bell, and ordered a fly. Henry offered
to accompany her. She declined. " Go to bed early," said
she, " and trust to your mother. We are harder to beat sometimes than a good many Mr. Bolts."
She drove to Dr. Amboyne's house, and sent in her name.
She was ushered into the Doctor's study, and found him
shivering over an enormous fire. "Influenza."
" Oh dear," said she, " I'm afraid you are very ill."
"Never mind that. Sit down. You will not make me any
worse, you may be sure of that." And he smiled affectionately
on her.
"But I came to intrude my own troubles on you."
" All the better. That will help me forget mine."
Mrs. Little seated herself, and, after a slight hesitation,
opened her battery thus:-" Well, my good friend, I am come
to ask you a favour. It is to try and reconcile my brother and
me. If any one can do it, you can."
"Praise the method, not the man.    If one could only
persuade you to put yourself in his place, and him to put himself in yours, you would be both reconciled in five minutes."
"You forget we have been estranged this five-and-twenty
years."
"No, I don't. The only question is, whether you can and
will deviate from the practice of the world into an obese
lunatic's system, both of you."
" Try me to begin."
The Doctor's eyes sparkled with satisfaction. " Well,
then," said he, " first you must recollect all the differences you
have seen between the male and female mind, and imagine
yourself a man."
" Oh, dear! that is so hard. But I have studied Henry.
Well, there-I have unsexed myself-in imagination."
1" You are not only a man, but a single-minded man, with



812          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
a high and clear sense of obligation. You are a trustee, bound
by honour to protect the interests of a certain woman and a
certain child. The lady, under influence, wishes to borrow her
son's money, and risk it on rotten security. You decline, and
the lady's husband affronts you. In spite of that affront, being
a high-minded man, not to be warped by petty irritation, you
hurry to your lawyers to get two thousand pounds of your own,
for the man who had affronted you."
" Is that so? " said Mrs. Little. "I was not aware of that."
"I have just learned it, accidentally, from the son of the
solicitor Raby went to that fatal night."
A tear stole down Mrs. Little's cheek.
" Now, remember, you are not a woman, but a brave, highminded man. In that character you pity poor Mr. Little, but
you blame him a little because he fled from trouble, and left his
wife and child in it. To you, who are Guy Raby-mind that,
please-it seems egotistical and weak to desert your wife and
child even for the grave." (The widow buried her face and
wept. Twenty-five years do something to withdraw the veil
the heart has cast over the judgment.)  " But, whatever you
feel, you utter only regret, and open your arms to your sister.
She writes back in an agony, for which, being a man, you
cannot make all the allowance you would if you were a
woman, and denounces you as her husband's murderer, and
bids you speak to her and write to her no more, and with that
she goes to the Littles. Can you blame yourself that, after all
this, you wait for her to review your conduct more soberly, and
to invite a reconciliation? "
Mrs. Little gave Doctor Amboyne her hand. " Bitter, but
wholesome medicine! " she murmured, and then was too overcome to speak for a little while.
"Ah, my good, wise friend!" said she at last, " thick
clouds seem clearing from my mind; I begin to see I was the
one to blame."
" Yes; and if Raby will be as docile as you, and put himself in your place, he will tell me he was the one to blame.
There's no such thing as (' the one to blame ' there very
seldom is.   You judged him as if he was a woman, he
judged you as if you were a man. Enter an obese maniac,
and applies the art of arts; the misunderstanding dissolves
under it, and you are in each other's arms. But stop "-and
his countenance fell again a little: " I am afraid there is a
new difficulty. Henry's refusal to take the name of:aby nd



PUT YOURSELF TN HIS PLACE.             U13
be his heir. Raby was bitterly mortified, and I fear he blames
me and my crotchets; for he has never been near me since.
To be sure you are not responsible for Henry's act."
"No, indeed; for between you and me, it mortified me
cruelly. And now things have taken a turn-in short, what
with his love, and his jealousy, and this hopeless failure to
make a fortune by inventing, I feel I can bring him to his
senses. I am not pleased with Grace Garden about something; but no matter, I shall call on her and show her she
must side with me in earnest. You will let my brother know
I was always on his side in that matter, whatever other offence
I may have given him years ago."
" And I am on your side, too. Your son has achieved a
small independence. Bayne can carry on the little factory,
and Henry can sell or lease his patents; he can never sink to
a mere dependant. There, I throw my crotchets to the wind,
and we will Raby your son, and marry him to Grace Garden."
" God bless you, my good and true friend! How can I
ever thank you?" Her cheek flushed, and her great maternal
eye sparkled, and half the beauty of her youth came back.
Her gratitude gave a turn to the conversation, which she
neither expected nor desired.
"Mrs. Little," said Doctor Amboyne, " this is the first
time you have entered my den, and the place seems transformed by your presence. My youth comes back to me with the
feelings I thought time had blunted; but no, I feel that, when
you leave my den again, it will be darker than ever, if you do
not leave me a hope that you will one day enter it for good."
" For shame!-At our age! " said the widow.
But she spoilt the remonstrance by blushing like a girl of
eighteen.
" You are not old in my eyes; and, as for me, let my
years plead for me, since all those years I have lived single for
your sake."
This last appeal shook Mrs. Little. She said she could not
entertain any such thoughts whilst her son was unhappy. "But
marry him to his Grace, and then-I don't know what folly I
might not be persuaded into."
The Doctor was quite content with that. He said he would
go to Raby, as soon as he could make the journey with safety,
and her troubles and her son's should end.
Mrs. Little drove home, a happy mother. As for the proi4pe she had made her old friend, it vexed her a little, she was



314          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
so used to look at him in another light; but she shrugged hei
maternal shoulders, as much as to say, 'When once my Henry
leaves me-why not? "
She knew she must play the politician a little with Henry,
so she opened the battery cautiously. " My dear," said she,
at breakfast, " good news! Doctor Amboyne undertakes to
reconcile us both to your uncle."
"All the better. Mr. Raby is a wrong-headed man, but
he is a noble-minded one, that is certain."
" Yes, and I have done him injustice. Doctor Amboyne
has shown me that."
She said no more. One step at a time.
Henry went up to Woodbine Villa, and Grace received him
a little coldly. He asked what was the matter. She said,
" They tell me you were at the very door the other day, and
did not come in."
" It is true," said he. " Another had just come out. Mr.
Coventry."
"And you punished me because that poor man had called
on me. Have you not faith in me? or what is it? I shall be
angry one of these days."
"No, you will not, if I can make you understand my
feelings. Put yourself in my place, dearest. Here am I,
fighting the good fight for you, against long odds; and, at
last, the brickmakers and bricklayers have beat us. Now you
know that is a bitter cup for me to drink. Well, I come up
here for my one drop of comfort; and out walks my declared
rival, looks into my face, sees my trouble there, and turns off
with a glance of insolent triumph. (Grace flushed.) And
then consider: I am your choice, yet I am only allowed to
visit you once a week."
" That is papa's doing."
"No matter; so it is. Yet my rival can come when he
pleases: and no doubt he does come every other day."
" You fancy that."
"It is not all fancy; for-by heaven, there he is at the
gate. Two visits to my one; there. Well, all the better, I'll
talk to hin."
He rose from his seat black with wrath.
Grace turned pale, and rang the bell in a moment.
The servant entered the room, just as Mr. Coventry
khocked at the door.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

815

" Not at home to anybody," said she.
Mr. Coventry's voice was heard to say incredulously, " Not
at home? " Then he retired slowly, and did not leave the
neighbourhood. He had called at an hour when Grace was
always at home.
Henry sat down, and said, " Thank you, Grace." But
he looked very gloomy and disturbed.
She sat down too, and then they looked at each other.
Henry was the first to speak. "1 We are both pupils of
the good Doctor. Put yourself in my place. That man
troubles our love, and makes my heavy heart a sore heart."
The tears were in Grace's eyes. "Dearest," said she,
"I will not put myself in your place; you would lose by that,
for I love you better than myself. Yes, it is unjust that you
should be allowed to visit me but once a week, and he should
visit me when he chooses. I assure you I have permitted his visits
out of pure good-nature, and now I will put an end to them."
She drew her desk towards her, and wrote to Mr. Coventry.
It took her some little time. She handed Henry the letter to
read. He took it in his hand; but hesitated. He inquired
what would be the effect of it?
1" That he will never visit me again till you and I are
married, or engaged, and that is the same thing. Why don't
ou read it?"
" I don't know: it goes against me somehow. Seems
unmanly. I'll take your word for it."
This charmed Grace. " Ah," said she, "I have chosen
right."
Then he kissed her hands, and blessed her: and then she
told him it was nothing; he was a goose, and had no idea
what she would do for him; " more than you would do for me,
I know," said she.
That he denied, and then she said she might perhaps put
him to the proof some day.
They were so happy together, time slipped away unheeded.
It was full three hours before Henry could tear himself away,
though he knew he.vas wanted at the works; and he went
out at the gate, glowing with happiness: and Coventry, who
was ready to drop with the fatigue of walking and watching
just above, saw him come out triumphant.
Then it was his turn to feel a deadly qualm. However,
he waited a little longer, and then made his call.
1" Not at home."



813           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACg.
Henry, on his way to the works, looked in on his mother,
and told her how nobly Grace had behaved.
Mrs. Little was pleased, and it smoothed down her maternal
bristles, and made it much easier for her to carry outr her
design. For the first time since Mr. Carden had offended
her by his cold-blooded treatment of her son, she called at
Woodbine Villa.
Grace was at home to see her, and met her with a blushing
timidity, and piteous wistful looks, not easy to misunderstand,
nor to resist.
They soon came to an understanding, and Mrs. Little
told Grace what Doctor Amboyne had promised to do, and
represented to her how much better it would be for Henry to fall
into his uncle Raby's views, than to engage in hopeless
struggles like that in which Mr. Bolt and he had just been so
signally defeated. "And then, you know, my dear, you
could marry next month, you two; that is to say, if you felt
disposed: I will answer for Henry."
Grace's red face and swimming eyes told how this shaft
went home. In short, she made a coy promise that she would
co-operate with Mrs. Little: " and," said she, " how lucky!
he has almost promised to grant me the first favour I ask him.
Well, I shall entreat him to be a good nephew, and do
whatever dear Mr. Raby asks him. But of course I shall
not say, and then if you do, you and I "-here the young lady
cut her sentence very short.
" Of course not," said Mrs. Little. " That will follow as
a matter of course. Now, my dear, you and I are conspirators
-for his good: and we must write often and let each other
know all we do."
With this understanding, and a good many pretty speeches
and kisses, they parted.
Doctor Amboyne did not recover so quickly as they could
have wished; but they employed the interval; feelers were
adroitly applied to Henry by both ladies, and they were pleased
to find that he rather admired his wrong-headed uncle, and
had been deeply touched by the old gentleman's address to
his mother's picture.
Bolt never came near him, and the grass was beginning to
grow on the condemned bricks. In short, everything seemed
to incline in one direction.
There was, however, something very serious going on out
of their sight.



PTI T YOUflL  IN 1r1S I'LAOI.

817

" Not at home! "    That white lie made Mr. Coventry
feel sick at heart. He went home disconsolate. The same
evening he received Miss Carden's letter.
The writer treated him like a gentleman, said a few words
about her own peculiar position, and begged him to consider
that position, and to be very generous; to cease his visits
entirely for the present, and so give himself one more title to
her esteem, which was all she had to give him. This was
the purport, and the manner was simply perfect, so gentle
yet firm: and then she flattered his amour propre by asking
that from his generosity which she could have taken as a
right: she did all she could to soften the blow. But she
failed. The letter was posted too soon after Henry's visit.
Behind the velvet paw that struck him, Coventry saw the
claws of the jealous lover. He boiled with rage and agony,
and cursed them both in his fury.
After an hour or two of phrenzy, he sat down, and wrote
back a letter full of bitter reproaches and sneers. He reflected.
He lighted a cigar and smoked it, biting it almost through,
now and then. He burned his letter. He lay awake all
night, raging and reflecting alternately, as passion or judgment
got the upper hand.
In the morning he saw clearer. "Don't quarrel with
her. Destroy him."   He saw this as plainly as if it was
written.
He wrote Grace a few sad lines, to say that of course he
submitted to her will. The letter ended thus: " Since I can
do nothing to please you, let me suffer to please you: even
that is something."  (This letter brought the tears to Grace's
eyes, and she pitied and esteemed the writer.)
He put on a plain suit, and drove into Hillsborough,
burning with wild ideas of vengeance. He had no idea what
he should do; but he was resolved to do something. He felt
capable of assassinating Little with his own hand.
I should be sorry to gain any sympathy for him; but it
is only fair the reader should understand that he felt deeply
aggrieved, and that we should all feel aggrieved under similar
circumstances. Priority is a title, all the world over; and
he had been the lady's lover first, had been encouraged, and
supplanted.
Longing to wound, but not knowing how to strike, he
wandered about the town, and went into several factories, and
talked to some of the men, and contrived to bring the conver


818          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
sation round to Little, and learn what he was doing. But he
gathered no information of any use to him. Then he went to
Grotait's place, and tried to pump him. That sagacious man
thought this odd, and immediately coupled this with his previous
denunciation of Little, and.drew him on.
Coventry was too much under the influence of passion to
be quite master of himself that day; and he betrayed to this
other Machiavel that he wished ill to Henry Little. As soon
as he had thoroughly ascertained this, Grotait turned coolly
on him, and said, " I am sorry Mr. Little has got enemies, for
he and his partner talk of building a new factory, and that
will be a good thing for us: take a score of saw-grinders off
the box."  Then Coventry saw he had made a mistake, and
left the " Cutlers' Arms " abruptly.
Next day he took a lodging in the town, and went about
groping for information, and hunting for a man whose face he
knew, but not his name.   He learned all about Bolt and
Little's vain endeavour to build, and went and saw the place,
and the condemned bricks. The sight gratified him. He
visited every saw-grinder's place he could hear of; and, at
last, he fell in with Sam Cole, and recognized him at once.
That worthy affected not to know him, and went on grinding
a big saw. Coventry stepped up to him, and said in his car,
" I want to speak with you. Make an appointment."
Cole looked rather sulky and reluctant at being drawn from
his obscurity. However, he named a low public-house, in a
back slum, and there these two met that night, and for greatei
privacy were soon seated in a place bigger than a box and
smaller than a room, with discoloured walls, and a rough
wooden table before them, splashed with beer. It looked the
very den to hatch villany in, and drink poison to its success.
Coventry, pale and red alternately, as fear and shame pre.
dominated, began to beat about the bush.
" You and I have reason to hate the same man. You know
who I mean."
" I can guess. Begins with a hel."
"He has wronged me deeply; and he hurt you."
" That is true, sir. I think he broke my windpipe, for I'm
as hoarse as a raven ever since: and I've got one or two of the
shot in my cheek still."
" Well, then, now is your time to be revenged."
" Well, I don't know about that. What he done was in
aelf-defence; and if I play bowls I must look for rubs."



PUT YOUnSJ3MP1 IN 111S PLACES

819

Coventry bit his lip with impatience.
After a pause, he said, "What were you paid for that job? 2
"Not half enough."
" Twenty pounds? "
" Nor nothing like it."
" I'll give you a hundred to do it again, only more effectually."  He turned very pale when he had made this offer.
" Ah," said Cole, " anybody could tell you was a gentleman."
" You accept my offer, then?"
" Nay, I mean it is easy to see you don't know trades. I
mustn't meddle with Mr. Little now; he is right with the
trade."
" What, not if I pay you five times as much? say ten
times, then; two hundred pounds."
" Nay, we Union chaps are not malefactors. You can't
buy us to injure an unoffending man. We have got our laws,
and they are just ones, and if a man will break them, after due
warning, the order is given to ' do' him, and the men are
named for the job; and get paid a trifle for their risk; and the
risk is not much, the trade stand by one another too true, and
in so many ways. But if a man is right with the trade, it
is treason to harm him. No, I mustn't move a finger against
Little."
" You have set up a conscience! " said Coventry, bitterly.
i " You dropped yours, a.rd I picked it up," was the Yorkshireman's ready reply. He was nettled now.
At this moment the door was opened and shut very swiftly,
and a whisper came in through the momentary aperture, "Mind
your eye, Sam Cole."
Coventry rushed to the door, and looked out: there was
nobody to be seen.
" You needn't trouble yourself," said Cole. "You might
as well run after the wind. That was a friendly warning. I
know the voice, and Grotait must be on to us. Now, sir, if
you offered me a thousand pounds, I wouldn't touch a hair of
Mr. Little: he is right with the trade, and we should have
Grotait and all the trade as bitter as death against us. I'll
tell you a secret, sir, that I've kept from my wife"-(he
lowered his voice to a whisper)-" Grotait could hang me any
day he chose. You must chink your brass in some other ear,
as the saying is: only mind, you done me a good turn once,
and I'll do you one now; you have been talking to somebody



320           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLAC~E
else besides me, and blown yourself: so now drop your little
game, and let Little alone, or the trade will make it their job
to lag you."
Coventry's face betrayed so much alarm, that the man
added, " And penal servitude wouldn't suit the likes of you.
Keep out of it."
With this rough advice the conference ended, and Mr.
Coventry went home thoroughly shaken in his purpose, and
indeed not a little anxious on his own account. Suppose he
had been overheard! his offer to Cole was an offence within
reach of the criminal law. What a mysterious labyrinth was
this Trade confederacy, into which he had put his foot so
rashly, and shown his game, like a novice, to the subtle and
crafty Grotait. He now collected all his powers, not to injure
Little, but to slip out of his own blunder.
He seized this opportunity to carry out a coup he had long
meditated: he went round to a dozen timber-merchants, and
contracted with them for the sale of every tree, old or young,
on his estate; and, while the trees were falling like grain, and
the agents on both sides measuring the fallen, he vanished
entirely from Hillsborough and Bollinghope.
Doctor Amboyne's influenza was obstinate, and it was
nearly a fortnight before he was strong enough to go to Cairnhope; but, at last, Mrs. Little received a line from him, to say
he was just starting, and would come straight to her on his
return; perhaps she would give him a cup of tea.
This letter came very opportunely. Bolt had never shown
his face again; and Henry had given up all hopes of working
his patents, and had said more than once he should have to
cross the water and sell them.
As for Mrs. Little, she had for some time maintained a
politic silence. But now she prepared for the Doctor's visit as
follows: " So, then, you have no more hopes from the invincible Mr. Bolt?"
" None whatever. He must have left the town in disgust."
" He is a wise man. I want you to imitate his example
Henry, my dear, what is the great object of your life at present l'
Is it not to marry Grace Carden?"
" You know it is."
" Then take her from my hands. Why do you look so
astonished? Have you forgotten my little boast? " Then, in
a very different tone, " You will love your poor mother still,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             891
when you are married? You will say, ' I owe her my wife,
will you not? "
Henry was so puzzled he could not reply even to this
touching appeal, made with eyes full of tears at the thought of
parting with him.
Mrs. Little proceeded to explain: " Let me begin at the
beginning.  Dr. Amboyne has shown me I was more to
blame than your uncle was. Would you believe it, although
he refused your poor father the trust-money, he went that
moment to get 2,0001. of his own, and lend it to us? Oh,
Henry, when Dr. Amboyne told me that, and opened my eyes,
I could have thrown myself at poor Guy's feet. I have been
the most to blame in our unhappy quarrel; and I have sent
Dr. Amboyne to say so. Now, Henry, my brother will forgive
me, the Doctor says; and, oh, my heart yearns to be reconciled.
You will not stand in my way, dearest? "
" Not likely. Why, I am under obligations to him, for my
part."
" Yes, but Doctor Amboyne says dear Guy is deeply mortified by your refusal to be his heir.  For my sake, for your
own sake, and for Grace Garden's sake, change your mind
now."
" What, go into his house, and wait for dead men's shoes I
Find myself some day wishing in my heart that noble old
fellow would die! Such a life turns a man's stomach even to
think of it."
"No, no.   Doctor Amboyne says that Mr. Bayne can
conduct your business here, and hand you a little income,
without your meddling."
" That is true."
"And, as for your patents, gentlemen can sell them to
traders, or lease them out. My brother would make a settlement on Grace and you-she is his god-daughter-now that is
all Mr. Carden demands. Then you could marry, and, on
your small present income, make a little tour together: and
dispose of your patents in other places."
"I could do great things with them in the United States."
"That is a long way."
" Why, it is only twelve days."
" Well, marry first," said the politic mother.
Henry flushed all over. " Ah! " said he, " you tempt me,
Heaven seems to open its gates as you speak. But you cannot
be in earnest; he made it an express condition I should drop



82!2          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
my father's name, and take his. Disown my poor dead father I
No, no, no!"
Now in reality this condition was wormwood to Mrs. Little;
but she knew that if she let her son see her feeling, all was
over. She was all the mother now, and fighting for her son's
happiness: so she sacrificed truth to love with an effort, but
without a scruple. " It is not as if it was a strange name.
Henry, you compel me to say things that tear my heart to say,
but-which has been your best friend, your mother, or your
poor dear father?"
Henry was grieved at the question, but he was a man who
turned his back on nothing. " My father loved me," said he:
" I can remember that; but he deserted me, and you, in
trouble; but you-you have been friend, parent, lover, and
guardian angel to me. And, oh, how little I have done 'to
deserve it all."
" Well, dear, the mother you value so highly, her name
was Raby. Yes, love; and, forgive me, I honour and love my
mother's name even more than I do the name of Little-(the
tears ran out of her eyes at this falsehood)-pray take it, to
oblige me, and reconcile me to my dear brother, and end our
troubles for ever." Then she wept on his neck, and he cried
with her.
After a while, he said, "' I feel my manhood all melting
away together. I am quite confused. It is hard to give up a
noble game. It is hard to refuse such a mother as you. Don't
cry any more, for mercy's sake: I'm like to choke. Mind,
crying is work I'm not used to. What does she say?  I am
afraid I shall win her, but lose her respect."
" She says she admires your pride; but you have shown
enough. If you refuse any longer, she will begin to fear you
don't love her as well as she loves you."
This master-stroke virtually ended the battle. Henry said
nothing: but the signs of giving way were manifest in him,
so manifest that Mrs. Little became quite impatient for the
Doctor's arrival to crown all.
He drove up to the door at last, and Henry ran out and
brought him in. He looked pale, and sat down exhausted.
Mrs. Little restrained her impatience, and said, "We are
selfish creatures to send you on our business before you are
half well."
" I'm well enough in health," said he, " but I'm qwute
upsetL"



PCT YOURSELF IN 1IS PLACE.              2
" What is the matter? Surely, you have not failed? Guy
does not refuse his forgiveness? "
" No, it is not that. Perhaps, if I had been in time -
but the fact is, Guy Raby has left England."
" What, for good?  Impossible! "
"Who can tell? All I know is that he has sold his horses,
discharged his servants all but one, and gone abroad without a
word. I was the friend of his youth,-his college chum; he
must be bitterly wounded to go away like that, and not even
let me know."
Mrs. Little lifted up her hands. "What have we done?
what have we done?  Wounded! no wonder. Oh, my poor,
wronged, insulted brother 1 "
She wept bitterly, and took it to heart so, it preyed on her
health and spirits. She was never the same woman from that
hour.
While her son and her friend were saying all they could to
console her, there appeared at the gate the last man any of
them ever expected to see-Mr. Bolt.
Henry saw him first and said so.
" Keep him out," cried the Doctor, directly. "Don't let
that bragging fool in to disturb our sorrow." He opened the
door and told the servant-girl to say " Not at home."
"Not at home," said the girl.
" That's a lie! " shouted Bolt, and shoved her aside, and
burst into the room. " None of your tricks on travellers,"
said he, in his obstreperous way. " I saw your heads through
the window. Good news, my boy! I've done the trick. I
wouldn't say a word till it wasall settled,(for Brag's a good
dog, but Holdfast's a better.  I've sold my bailding site to
some gents that want to speculate in a church, and I've made
five hundred pounds profit by the sale. I'm always right,
soon or late. And I've bought a factory ready made-the Star
Works; bought 'em, sir, with all the gear and plant, and
working hands."
" The Star Works? The largest but one in Hillsborough! "
"Ay, lad. Money and pluck together, they'll beat the
world. We have got a noble place, with every convenience.
All we have got to do now is to go in and win."
Young Little's eyes sparkled. "All right," said he, "I
like this way the best."
Mrs. Little sighed.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACM.

CHAPTER       XXX.
IN that part of London called "the City" are shady little
streets, that look like pleasant retreats from the busy, noisy
world: yet are strongholds of business.
One of these contained, and perhaps still contains, a public
office full of'secrets, some droll, some sad, some terrible. The
building had a narrow, insignificant front, but was of great
depth, and its south side lighted by large bay windows all stone
and plate-glass; and these were open to the sun and air,
thanks to a singular neighbour; here, in the heart of the City,
was wedged a little rustic church, with its churchyard, whose
bright green grass first startled, then soothed and refreshed the
eye, in that wilderness of stone; an emerald set in granite:
the grass flowed up to the south wall of the " office; " those
massive stone windows hung over the graves; the plumed
clerks could not look out of window and doubt that all men are
mortal: and the article the office sold was Immortality.
It was the Gosshawk Life Insurance.
On a certain afternoon anterior to the Hillsborough scenes
last presented, the plumed clerks were all at the south windows,
looking at a funeral in the little churchyard, and passing some
curious remarks; for know that the deceased was insured in
the Gosshawk for nine hundred pounds, and had paid but one
premium.
The facts, as far as known, were these. Mr. Richard
Martin, a Londoner by birth, but residing in Wales, went up
to London to visit his brother. Towards the end of the visit
i/the two Martins went up the river in a boat, with three more
friends, and dined at Richmond. They rowed back in the cool
of the evening: at starting they were merely jovial; but they
stopped at nearly all the public-houses by the water-side, and,
by visible gradations, became jolly-uproarious-sang songscaught crabs. At Yauxhall they got a friendly warning, and
laughed at it: under Southwark bridge they ran against an
abutment, and were upset in a moment: it was now dusk, and,
according to their own account, they all lost sight of each other
in the water. One swam ashore in Middlesex, another in
Surrey, a third got to the chains of a barge and was taken up
much exhausted, and Robert Martin laid hold of the buttress
itself, and cried loudly for assistance. They asked anxiously
after each other, but their anxiety appeared to subside in an



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.                  05
hour or two, when they found there was nobody missing but
Richard Martin. Robert told the police it was all right, Dick
could swim like a cork. However, next morning he came with
a soxrowful face to say his brother had not reappeared, and
begged them to drag the river. This was done, and a body
found, which the survivors and Mrs. Richard Martin disowned.
The insurance office was informed, and looked into the
matter; and Mrs. Martin told their agent, with a flood of
tears, she believed her husband had taken that opportunity to
desert her, and was not drowned at all. Of course this went
to the office directly.
But a fortnight afterwards a body was found in the water,
down at Woolwich, entangled in some rushes by the water-side.
Notice was given to all the survivors.
The friends of Robert Martin came, and said the clothes
resembled those worn by Richard Martin; but beyond that
they could not be positive.
But, when the wife came, she recognized the body at once.
The brother agreed with her; but, on account of the
bloated and discoloured condition of the face, asked to have the
teeth examined: his poor brother, he said, had a front tooth
broken short in two. This broken tooth was soon found; also
a pencil-case, and a key, in the pocket of the deceased; these
completed the identification.
Up to this moment the conduct of Richard Martin's relatives
and friends had been singularly apathetic; but now all was
changed: they broke into loud lamentations, and he became
the best of husbands, best of men: his lightest words were
sacred. Robert Martin now remembered that "poor Dick"
had stood and looked into that little churchyard and said, " If
you outlive me, Bob, bury me in this spot; father lies here."
So Robert Martin went to the churchwarden for leave to do
this last sad office. The churchwarden refused, very properly,
but the brother's entreaties, the widow's tears, the tragedy
itself, and other influences, extorted at last a reluctant consent,
coupled with certain sanatory conditions.
The funeral was conducted unobtrusively, and the grave
dug out of sight of the Gosshawk. But of course it could not
long escape observation; that is to say, it was seen by the
clerks; but the directors and manager were all seated round a
great table upstairs absorbed in a vital question, viz. whether
or not the Gosshawk should imitate some other companies, and
insure against fire as well as aeath.  Lt was the third and last



826

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

discussion; the minority against this new operation was small,
but obstinate and warm, and the majority so absorbed in
bringing them to reason, that nobody went to the window until
the vote had passed and the Gosshawk was a Life and Fire
Insurance. Then some of the gentlemen rose and stretched
their legs, and detected the lugubrious enormity. "Hallo! "
cried Mr. Carden, and rang a bell. Edwards, an old clerk,
appeared, and, in reply to Mr. Garden, told him it was one of
their losses being buried-Richard Martin.
Mr. Garden said this was an insult to the office, and sent
Edwards out to remonstrate.
Edwards soon reappeared with Robert Martin, who represented, with the utmost humility, that it was the wish of the
deceased, and they had buried him, as ordered, in three feet of
charcoal.
" What, is the ceremony performed?"
"Yes, sir, all but filling in the grave. Come and see the
charcoal."
" Hang the charcoal! "
' Well," said a humane but somewhat pompous director,
" if the ceremony has gone so far-but, Mr. Martin, this must
never recur, charcoal or no charcoal."
Mr. Martin promised it never should: and was soon after
observed in the churchyard urging expedition.
The sad company speedily dispersed, and left nothing to
offend nor disgust the Life and Fire Insurance, except a new
grave, and a debt of nine hundred pounds to the heirs or
assigns of Richard Martin.
Not very far from this churchyard was a public-house; and
in that public-house a small parlour upstairs, and in that parlour a man, who watched the funeral rites with great interest,
but not in a becoming spirit; for his eyes twinkled with the
intensest merriment all the time, and at each fresh stage of the
mournful business he burst into peals of laughter. Never was
any man so thoroughly amused in the City before, at all events
in business hours.
Richard Martin's executor waited a decent time, and then
presented his claim to the Gosshawk. His brother proved a
lien on it for 8001., and the rest went by will to his wife. The
Gosshawk paid the money, after the delay accorded by law.



PUT YOURSEL IN 1IIS PLACE.

827

CHAPTER       XXXI.
MESSRS. BOLT AND LITTLE put their heads together, and
played a prudent game. They kept the works going for a
month, without doing anything novel, except what tended to
the health and comfort of their workmen.
But, meantime, they cleared out two adjacent rooms: one
was called the studio, the other the experiment room.
In due course they hired a couple of single men from Bir.
mingham to work the machine under lock and key.
Little, with his own hands, effected an aperture in the
party-wall, and thus conveyed long saws from his studio to the
machine, and received them back ground.
The men were lodged three miles off, were always kept at
work half an hour later than the others, and received six
pounds per week apiece, on pain of instant dismissal should
they breathe a syllaole. They did the work of twenty-four
men; so, even at that high rate of wages, the profit was surprising. It actually went beyond the inventor's calculation,
and he saw himself, at last, on the road to rapid fortune, and,
above all, to Grace Carden.
This success excited Bolt's cupidity, and he refused to
contract the operation any longer.
Then the partners had a quarrel, and nearly dissolved.
However, it ended in Little dismissing his Birmingham hands,
and locking up his "Experiment Room," and in Bolt openly
devoting another room to the machines: two long, two circular.
These machines coined money, and Bolt chuckled and
laughed at his partner's apprehensions, for the space of twentyone days.
On the twenty-second day, the Saw-grinders' Union, which
had been stupefied at first, but had now realized the situation,
sent Messrs. Bolt andl Little a letter, civil and even humble:
it spoke of the new invention as one that, if adopted, would
destroy their handicraft, and starve the craftsmen and their
families; and expressed an earnest hope that a firm, which
had shown so much regard for the health,and comfort of the
workmen, would not persist in a fatal course, on which they
had entered innocently and for want of practical advice.
The partners read this note differently. Bolt saw timidity,
in it. Little saw a conviction, and a quiet resolution, that
foreboded a stern contest.



823          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
No reply was sent, and the machines went on coining.
Then came a warning to Little, not violent, but short, and
rather grim. Little took it to Bolt and he treated it with
contempt.
Two days afterwards the wheel-bands vanished, and the
obnoxious machines stood still.
Little was for going to Grotait, to try and come to terms.
Bolt declined.  He bought new bands, and next day the
machines went on again.
This pertinacity soon elicited a curious epistle:
" MESSRS. BOLT AND LITTLE,-When the blood is in an impure state, brimstone and treacle is applied as a mild purgative; our taking the bands was the mild remedy; but, should
the seat of disease not be reached, we shall take away the
treacle, and add to the brimstone a necessary quantity of saltpetre and charcoal.
"TANTIA TOPEE."
On receipt of this, Little, who had tasted the last-mentioned
drugs, showed such undisguised anxiety, that Bolt sent for
Ransome. He came directly, and was closeted with the firm.
Bolt handed him the letters, told him the case, and begged
leave to put him a question. " Is the police worth anything,
or nothing, in this here town? "
" It is worth something, I hope, gentlemen."
" How much, I wonder?  Of all the bands that have been
stolen, and all the people that have bcen blown up, and scorched,
and vitrioled, and shot at, and shot, by Union men, did ever
you and your bobbies nail a single malefactor? "
Now Mr. Ransome was a very tall man, with a handsome
dignified head, a lbng black beard, and pleasant, dignified
manners. When short, round, vulgar Mr. Bolt addressed him
thus, it really was like a terrier snapping at a Newfoundland
dog. Little felt ashamed, and said Mr. Ransome had been
only a few months in office in the place.  " Thank you,
Mr. Little," said the chief constable. " Mr. Bolt, I'll ask you
a favour. Meet me at a certain place this evening, and let me
reply to your question then and there."
This singular proposal excited some curiosity, and the
partners accepted a rendezvous. Ransome came to the minute,
and took the partners into the most squalid part of this foul
city. At the corner of a narrow street he stopped and gave a



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE

329

low whistle.  A policeman in plain clothes came to him
directly.
" They are both in the 'Spotted Dog,' sir, with half a
dozen more."
" Follow me, and guard the door. Will you come, too,
gentlemen?"
The " Spotted Dog " was a low public, with one large room
and a sanded floor. Mr. Ransome walked in and left the door
open, so that his three companions heard and saw all that passed.
" Holland and Cheetham, you are wanted."
SWhat for?"
"Wilde's affair. He has come to himself, and given us
your names."
On this the two men started up and were making for the
door. Ransome whipped before it. " That won't do."
Then there was a loud clatter of rising feet, oaths, threats,
and even a knife or two drawn; and, in the midst of it all, the
ominous click of a pistol, and then dead silence; for it was
Ransome who had produced that weapon. " Come, no nonsense," said he. " Door's guarded, street's guarded, and I'm
not to be trifled with."
He then handed his pistol to the officer outside with an
order, and, stepping back suddenly, collared Messrs. Holland
and Cheetham with one movement, and, with a powerful rush,
carried them out of the house in his clutches. Meantime the
policeman had whistled, there was a conflux of bobbies, and
the culprits were handcuffed and marched off to the Town Hall.
" Five years' penal servitude for that little lot," said Ransome. "And now, Mr. Bolt, I have answered your question
to the best of my ability."
" You have answered it like a man. Will yia do as much
for us?"
" I'll do my best. Let me examine the place, now that
none of them are about."
Bolt and Ransome went together, but Little went home;
he had an anxiety even more pressing, his mother's declining
health.  She had taken to pining and fretting, ever since
Dr. Amboyne brought the bad news from Cairnhope; and now,
instead of soothing and consoling her son, she needed those
kind offices from him; and, I am happy to say, she received
them. He never spen_~ tan   ening a   iyjro. her. Unforiunately he dinot succeed in keeping up her spirits, and the
sight of her lowered his own..Lt////////~//// r X.i    b         7W.<.



380          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
At this period Grace Garden was unmixed comfort to him;
she encouraged him to encroach a little, and visit her twice a
week instead of once, and she coaxed him to confide all his
troubles to her. He did so; he concealed from his mother
that he was at war with the trade again, but he told Grace
everything, and her tender sympathy was the balm of his life.
She used to put on cheerfulness for his sake, even when she
felt it least.
One day, however, he found her less bright than usual, and
she showed him an advertisement-Bollinghope House and
park for sale; and she was not old enough nor wise enough to
disguise from him that this pained her. Some expressions of
regret and pity fell from her; that annoyed Henry, and he
said, " What is that to us? "
" Nothing to you; but I feel I am the cause. I have not
used him well, that's certain."
Henry said, rather cavalierly, that Mr. Coventry was probably selling his house for money, not for love, and (getting
angry) that he hoped never to hear the man's name mentioned
again.
Grace Carden was a little mortified by his tone, but she
governed herself and said sadly, "I My idea of love was to be
able to tell you every thought of my heart, even where my conscience reproaches me a little. But if you prefer to exclude
one topic-and have no fear that it may lead to the exclusion
of others-"
They were on the borders of a tiff; but Henry recovered
himself and said firmly, " I hope we shall not have a thought
unshared one day: but, just for the present, it will be kinder
to spare me that one topic."
" Very well, dearest," said Grace. "And, if it had not
been for the advertisement-  " she said no more, and the
thing passed like a dark cloud between the lovers.
Bollinghope house and park were actually sold that very
week; they were purchased, at more than their value, by a
wealthy manufacturer: and the proceeds of this sale and the
timber sale cleared off all Coventry's mortgages, and left him
with a few hundred pounds in cash, and an estate which had
not a tree on it, but also had not a debt upon it.
Of course he forfeited, by this stroke, his position as a
country gentleman; but that he did not care about, since it was
all done with one view, to live comfortably in Paris, far from the
intolerable sight of his rival's happiness with the lady he lovedt



P'UT YOURS8ELF ItN HlIS PLAC.

881

He bought in at the sale a few heirlooms and articles of
furniture-who does not cling, at the last moment, to something of this kind?-and rented a couple of unfurnished rooms
in Hillsborough to keep them in. He fixed the day of his
departure, arranged his goods, and packed his clothes. Then
he got a letter of credit on Paris, and went about the town
buying numerous articles of cutlery.
But this last simple act led to strange consequences. He
was seen and followed; and in the dead of-the evening, as he
was cording with his own hands a box containing a few valuables, a heavy step mounted the stair, and there was a rude
knock at the door.
Mr. Coventry felt rather uncomfortable, but he said,
" Come in."
The door was opened, and there stood Sam Cole.
Coventry received him ill. He looked up from his packing
and said, " What on earth do you want, sir? "
But it was not Cole's business to be offended. " Well,
sir," said he, " I've been looking out for you some time, and I
saw you at our place; so I thought I'd come and tell you a
bit o' news."
" What is that? "
" It is about him you know of, begins with a hel."
" Curse him I I don't want to hear about him. I'm leaving
the country. Well, what is it? "
"He is wrong with the trade again."
" What is that to me?-Ah!-Sit down, Cole, and tell
me."
Cole let him know the case, and assured him that, sooner
or later, if threats did not prevail, the Union would go any
length.
" Should you be employed?"
" If it was a dangerous job, they'd prefer me."
Mr. Coventry looked at his trunks, and then at Sam Cole.
A small voice whispered " Fly." He stifled that warning
voice, and told Cole he would stay and watch this affair, and
Cole was to report to him whenever anything fresh occurred.
From that hour this gentleman led the life of a malefactor,
dressed like a workman, and never went out except at nights.
Messrs. Bolt and Little were rattened again, and never
knew it till morning. This time it was not the bands, but
certain axle-nuts and screws that vanished. The obnoxious
machines came to a standstill, and Bolt fumed and cursed.



382          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
However, at ten o'clock, he and the foreman were invited to
the Town Hall, and there they found the missing gear, and the
culprit, one of the very workmen employed at high wages on
the obnoxious machines.
Ransome had bored a small hole in the ceiling, by means
of which this room was watched from above; the man was
observed, followed, and nabbed. The property found on him
was identified, and the magistrate offered the prisoner a jury,
which he declined: then the magistrate dealt with the case
summarily, refused to recognize rattening, called the offence
"petty larceny," and gave the man six months' prison.
Now as Ransome, for obvious reasons, concealed the means
by which this man had been detected, a conviction so mysterious
shook that sense of security which ratteners had enjoyed for
many years; and the trades began to find that craft had
entered the lists with craft.
Unfortunately, those who directed the Saw-grinders' Union
thought the existence of the trade at stake, and this minor
defeat merely exasperated them.
Little received a letter telling him he was acting worse
than Brinsley, who had been shot dead in the Briggate; and
asking him, as a practical man, which he thought was likely to
die first, he or the Union?  " You won't let us live, why
should we let you? "
Bolt was threatened in similar style, but he merely handed
the missives to Ransome: he never flinched.
Not so Little. He got nervous; and, in a weak moment,
let his mother worm out of him that he was at war with the
trades again.
This added anxiety to her grief, and she became worse
every day.
Then Doctor Amboyne interfered, and, after a certain
degree of fencing-which seems inseparable from the practice
of medicine-told Henry plainly he feared the very worst if
this went on; Mrs. Little was on the brink of jaundice. By
his advice Henry took her to Aberystwith in Wales; and, when
he had settled her there, went back to his troubles.
To those was now added a desolate home; gone was the
noble face, the maternal eye, the soothing voice, the unfathomable love. He never knew all her value till now.
One night, as he sat by himself sad and disconsolate, his
servant came to tell him there was a young woman inquiring
for Mrs. Little  Henry went out to her, and it was Jae



PUT YOURJRELF f, ITIS 1LACE.

833

Donce. He invited her in, and told her what had happened.
Jael saw his distress, and gave him her womanly sympathy.
"And I came to tell her my own trouble," said she, ".fie
on me."
" Then tell it me, Jael. There, take off your shawl and
sit down. They shall make you a cup of tea."
Jael complied, with a slight blush; but as to her trouble,
she said it was not worth speaking of in that house.
Henry insisted, however, and she said, " Mine all comes
of my sister marrying that Phil Davis. To tell you the
truth, I went to church with a heavy heart on account of
their both beginning with a D-Dence and Davis; for 'tis an
old sayingIf you change the name and not the letter,
You change for the worse and not for the better.
Well, sir, it all went wrong somehow. Parson he was South
country: and, when his time came to kiss the bride, he stood
and looked ever so helpless; and I had to tell him he must
kiss her; and even then he stared foolish like a bit before he
kissed her, and the poor lass's face getting up and the tear in
her eye at being slighted. And that put Patty out for one
thing: and then she wouldn't give away the ribbon to the
fastest runner-The lads run a hundred yards to the bride, for
ribbon and kiss, you know-Wasn't the ribbon she grudged,
poor wench: but the fastest runner in Cairnhope town is that
Will Gibbon, a nasty, ugly, slobbering chap, that was always
after her, and Philip jealous of him: so she did for the best,
and Will Gibbon safe to win it. But the village lads they
didn't see the reason, and took it all to themselves. Was she
better than her granddam? and were they worse than their
grandsires?  They ran on before, and fired the anvil when she
passed: just fancy I an affront close to her own door: and, sir,
she walked in a doors crying. There was a wedding for you!
George the blacksmith was that hurt at their making free with
his smithy to &aront her, he lifted his arm for the first time
and pretty near killed a couple of them, poor thoughtless
bodies. Well, sir, Phil Davis always took a drop, you know,
and, instead of mending, he got worse; they live with father,
and of course he has only to go to the barrel: old-fashioned
farmers like us don't think to spy on the ale. He was so often
in liquor, I checked him; but Patty indulged him in everything. By-and-by my lord gets ever so civil to me: ' What
uext? ' said I to myself. One fine evening we are set upstairs



854          PtT YOURSELF IN IIS PLACE.
at our tea; in he comes drunk, and says many things we had
to look at one another and excuse. Presently he tells us all
that he has made a mistake; he has wedded Patty, and I'm
the one he likes the best. I thought the fool was in jest; but
Patty she gave a cry as if a knife had gone through her heart.
Then my blood got up in a moment. ' That's an affront to all
three,' said I: 'and take your answer, ye drunken sow,' said
I. I took him by the scruff of the neck and just turned him
out of the room and sent him to the bottom of the stairs headforemost. Then Patty she quarrelled with me: and father he
sided with her. And so I gave them my blessing, and told
them to send for me in trouble: and I left the house I was
born in. It all comes of her changing her name and not her
letter."  Here a few tears interrupted further comment.
Henry consoled her, and asked her what she was going
to do.
She said she did not know; but she had a good bit of
money put by, and was not afraid of work, and, in truth, she
had come there to ask Mrs. Little's advice, "poor lady. Now
don't you mind me, Mr. Henry; your trouble is a deal worse
than mine."
" Jael," said he, " you must come here and keep my house
till my poor mother is better."
Jael coloured and said, " Nay, that will not do. But if
you could find me something to do in your great factory-and
I hear you have enemies there; you might as well have a
friend right in the middle of them. Eh, but I'd keep my eyes
and ears open for you."
Henry appreciated this proposal, and said there were plenty
of things she could do; she could hone, she could pack, she
could superintend, and keep the girls from gabbling; "that,"
said he, " is the real thing that keeps them behind the men at
work."
So Jael Dence lodged with a female cousin in Hillsborough,
and filled a position of trust in the factory of Bolt and Little:
she packed, and superintended; and the foreman paid her
thirty shillings a week. The first tinge this was tendered her
she said severely, " Is this right, young man? " meaning, "Is
it not too much? "
" Oh, you will be raised if you stay with us three months."
"Raised? " said the virtuous rustic I  Then, looking
loftily round on the other women, " Whatever do these factory
folk find to grumble at?"



PUT YOIJHSELF IN HIS PLACES

335

Henry told Grace all about this, and she said, rather
eagerly,-" Ah, I am glad of that. You'll have a good watchdog."
It was a shrewd speech. The young woman soon found
out that Little was really in danger, and she was all eyes, and
ears, and no tongue.
Yet neither her watchfulness, nor Ransome's, prevailed
entirely against the deviltries of the offended Union. Machinery was always breaking down by pure accident; so everybody swore, and nobody believed: the water was all let out of
a boiler, and the boiler burst. Bands were no longer taken,
but they were cut. And, in short, the works seemed to be
under a curse.
And, lest the true origin of all these mishaps should be
doubted, each annoyance was followed by an anonymous letter.
These were generally sent to Little. A single sentence will
indicate the general tone of each.
1. " All these are but friendly warnings, to save your life
if possible."
2. "I never give in. I fight to death, and with more
craft and duplicity than Bolt and Ransome. They will never
save you from me, if you persist. Ask others whether I ever
failed to keep my word."
3. " If I but move my finger, you are sent into eternity."
Henry Little's nerve began to give way more and more.
Meantime Cole met Mr. Coventry, and told him what was
going on beneath the surface: at the same time he expressed
his surprise at the extraordinary forbearance shown by the
Union.   " Grotait is turning soft, I think. He will not give
the word to burn Sebastopol."
CHAPTER XXXII.
COVENTRY and Cole met that night near a little church.
Hill was to join them, and tell them the result.
Now, as it happens, Little went home rather late that
night, so these confederates waited, alternately hoping and
fearing, a considerable time,



336          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Presently, something mysterious occurred, that gave them
a chill. An arrow descended, as if from the clouds, and stucx
quivering on a grave not ten yards from them. The black and
white feathers shone clear in the moonlight.
To Coventry, it seemed as if heaven was retaliating on
him.
The more prosaic, but quick-witted cutler, after the first
stupefaction, suspected it was the very arrow destined for
Little, and said so.
" Heaven flings it back to us," said Coventry, and trembled
in every limb.
" Heaven has nought to do in it. The fool has got drunk,
and shot it in the air. Anyway, it mustn't stick there to tell
tales."
Cole vaulted over the churchyard, drew it out of the grave,
and told Coventry to hide it.
"Go you home," said he.      "I'll find out what this
means."
Hill's unexpected assailant dragged him back so suddenly
and violently that the arrow went up at an angle of forty-five,
and, as the man loosed the string to defend himself, flew up
into the sky, and came down full a hundred yards from the
place.
Hill twisted violently round, and, dropping the bow, strucl
the woman in the face with his fist: he had not room to use
all his force; yet the blow covered her face with blood. She
cried out, but gripped him so tight by both shoulders that he
could not strike again, but he kicked her savagely.  She
screamed, but slipped her arms down and got him tight round
the waist. Then he was done for: with one mighty whirl she
tore him off his feet in a moment; then dashed herself and
him under her to the ground with such ponderous violence
that his head rang loud on the pavement, and he was stunned
for a few seconds. Ere he quite recovered she had him turned
on his face, and her weighty knee grinding down his shoulders,
while her nimble hands whipped off her kerchief and tied his
hands behind him in a twinkling.
So quickly was it all done, that by the time Little heard
the scrimmage, ascertained it was behind him, and came back
to see, she was seated on her prisoner, trembling and crying
alter her athletic feat, and very little fit to cope with the man
if he had not been tied.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.            UZS'
Little took her by the hands. " Oh, my poor Jacl. What
is the matter? Has the blackguard been insulting you? "
And, not waiting for an answer, gave him a kick that made
him howl again.
" Yes, kill him, the villain! he wanted to murder you.
Oh, oh, oh! "
She could say no more, but became hysterical.
Henry supported her tenderly, and wiped the blood from
her face: and, as several people came up, and a policeman,
he gave the man in charge, on Jael's authority, and he was
conveyed to the station accordingly, he and his bow.
They took Jael Dence to a chemist's shop, and gave her
cold water and salts: the first thing she did, when she was
quite herself, was to seize Henry Little's hand and kiss it with
such a look of joy as brought tears into his eyes.
Then she told her story, and was taken in a cab to the
police-office, and repeated her story there.
Then Henry took her to " Woodbine Villa," and Grace
Garden turned very pale at Henry's danger, though passed:
she wept over Jael, and kissed her; and nobody could make
enough of her.
Grace Garden looked wistfully at Henry, and said, " Oh
that I had a strong arm to defend you."
" Oh, Miss Grace," said Jael, " don't you envy me. Go
away with him from this wicked murdering place. That will
be a deal better than anything I can do for him."
" Ah, would to heaven I could this minute," said Grace,
clinging tenderly to his shoulder. She insisted on going home
with him and sharing his peril for once.
Hill was locked up for the night.
In the morning a paper was slipped into his hand. "Say
there was no arrow."
He took this hint, and said that he was innocent as a
babe of any harm. He had got a bow to repair for a friend,
and he went home twanging it, was attacked by a woman,
and, in his confusion, struck her once, but did not repeat the
blow.
Per contra, Jael Dence distinctly swore there was an arrow,
with two white feathers and one black one, and that the
prisoner was shooting at Mr. Little. She also swore that she
had seen him colloguing with another man, who had been
concerned in a former attempt on Mr. Little, and captured,
but had escaped from Raby Hall.



838          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
On this the magistrate declined to discharge the prisoner;
but, as no arrow could be found at present, admitted him to
bail, two securities fifty pounds each, which was an indirect
way of imprisoning him until the assizes.
This attempt, though unsuccessful in one way, was very
effective in another. It shook Henry Little terribly; and the
effect was enhanced by an anonymous letter he received,
reminding him   there were plenty of noiseless weapons
Brinsley had been shot twice, and no sound heard. " When
your time comes, you'll never know what hurt you." The
sense of a noiseless assassin eternally dogging him preyed on
Little's mind and spirits, and, at last, this life on the brink
of the grave became so intolerable that he resolved to leave
Hillsborough; but not alone.
He called on Grace Carden, pale and agitated.
" Grace," said he, "do you really love me?"
"Oh, Henry! Do I love you? "
"Then save me from this horrible existence. Oh, my
love, if you knew what it is to have been a brave man, and to
find your courage all oozing away under freezing threats, that
you know, by experience, will be followed by some dark, subtle,
bloody deed or other. There, they have brought me down to
this, that I never go ten steps without looking behind me,
and when I go round a corner, I turn short, and run back,
and wait at the corner to see if an assassin is following
me. I tremble at the wind. I start at my own shadow."
Grace threw her arms round his neck, and stopped him
with tears and kisses.
" Ah, bless you, my love," he cried, and kissed her
fondly. " You pity me-you will save me from this miserable
degrading life? "
"Ah, that I will, if I can, my own."
" You can."
" Then tell me how."
" Be my wife-let us go to the United States together.
Dearest, my patents are a great success. We are making
our fortune, though we risk our lives. In America I coul I
sell these inventions for a large sum, or work them myself at
an enormous profit. Be my wife, and let us fly this hellish
place together."
"And so I would in a moment; but " (with a deep sigh)
" papa would never consent to that."
" Dispense with his consent."



PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.

389

" Oh, Harry; and marry under my father's curse 1 "
" He would not curse you, if he loves you half as well as
I do; and, if he does not, why sacrifice me, and perhaps my
life, to him? "
" Henry, for pity's sake, think of some other way. Why
this violent haste to get rich?  Have a little patience. Mr.
Raby will not always be abroad. Oh, pray give up Mr. Bolt,
and go quietly on, at peace with these dreadful trades. You
know I'll wait all my life for you. I will implore papa to let
you visit me oftener. I will do all a faithful loving girl can
do to comfort you.'
"Ay," said Henry, bitterly, "you will do anything but
the one thing I ask."
"Yes, anything but defy my father. He is father and
mother both to me. How unfortunate we both are! If you
knew what it costs me to deny you anything, if you knew how
I long to follow you round the world-"
She choked with emotion, and seemed on the point of
yielding after all.
But he said, bitterly, " You long to follow me round theworld, and you won't go a twelve-days' voyage with me to
save my life. Ah, it is always so. You don't love me as poor
Jael Dence loves me. She saved my life without my asking
her; but you won't do it when I implore you."
" Henry, my own darling, if any woman on earth loves
you better than I do, for God's sake marry her, and let me
die to prove I loved you a little."
" Very well," said he, grinding his teeth. " Next week
I leave this place with a wife. I give you the first offer,
because I love you. I shall give Jael the second, because
she loves me."
So then he flung out of the room, and left Grace Carden
half fainting on the sofa, and drowned in tears.
But before he got back to the works, he repented his
violence, and his heart yearned for her more than ever.
With that fine sense of justice which belongs to love, he
spoke roughly to Jael Dence.
She stared, and said nothing, but watched him furtively,
and saw his eyes fill with tears at the picture memory recalled
of Grace's pale face and streaming eyes.
She put a few shrewd questions, and, his heart was so full,
he could not conceal the main facts, though he suppressed all
that bore reference to Jael herself. She took Grace's part,
'z 2



'30          PUT YOUltSELF IN HIS PLACE.
and told him he was all in the wrong; why could not he go
to America alone, and sell his patents, and then come back
and marry Grace with the money? " Why drag her across
the water to make her quarrel with her father? "
'' Why, indeed?" said Henry: " because I'm not the
man I was. I have no manhood left. I have not the courage
to fight the trades; nor yet the courage to leave the girl I
love so dearly."
"Eh, poor lad," said Jael, ' thou hast courage enough;
but it has been too sore tried, first and last. You have gone
through enough to break a man of steel."
She advised him to go and make his submission at once.
He told her she was his guardian angel, and kissed her,
in the warmth of his gratitude; and he went back to Woodbine Villa, and asked Grace's forgiveness, and said he would
go alone to the States, and come back with plenty of money
to satisfy Mr. Garden's prudence, and
Grace clutched him  gently with both hands, as if to
hinder him from leaving her. She turned very pale, and said
" Oh my heart! "
Then she laid her head on his shoulder, and wept piteously.
He comforted her, and said, " What is it? a voyage of
twelve days! And yet I shall never have the courage to bid
you good-by."
" Nor I you, my own darling."
Having come to this resolution, he was now seized with a
fear that he would be assassinated before he could carry it
out: to diminish the chances, he took up his quarters at the
factory, and never went out at night. Attached to the works
was a small building near the water-side. Jael Dence occupied the second floor of it. IHe had a camp bed set up on
the first floor, and established a wire communication with the
police-office. At the slightest alarm he could ring a bell in
Ransome's ear.   He also clandestinely unscrewed a little
postern door, that his predecessors had closed, and made a
key to the lock, so that if he should ever he compelled to go
out at night, he might baffle his foes, who would naturally
watch the great gate for his exit.
With all this he became very depressed, and moody, and
alarmed Doctor Amboyne, who remembered his father's end.
The Doctor advised him to go and see his mother for a day
or two; but he shook his head. and declined.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACEI

341

A prisoner detained for want of bail is allowed to commanicate with his friends, and Grotait soon let Hill know he was
very angry with him for undertaking to do Little without
orders. Hill said that the job was given him by Cole, who
was Grotait's right-hand man, and Grotait had better bail him,
otherwise he might be induced to tell tales.
Grotait let him stay in prison three days, and then sent
two householders with the bail.
Hill was discharged, and went home. At dusk, he turned
out to find Cole, and tracing him from one public-house to
another, at last lighted on him in company with Mr. Coventry.
This set him thinking; however, he held aloof till they
parted; and then, following Cole, dunned him for his twenty
pounds.
Cole gave him five pounds on account. Hill grumbled and
threatened.
Grotait sent for both men, and went into a passion, and
threatened to hang them both if they presumed to attack
Little's person again in any way. " It is the place I mean to
destroy," said Grotait, " not the man."
Cole conveyed this to Coventry, and it discouraged him
mightily, and he told Cole he should give it up, and go abroad.
But, soon after this, some pressure or other was brought to
bear on Grotait, and Cole, knowing this, went to him, and
asked him whether Bolt and Little were to be done or not.
"It is a painful subject," said Grotait.
" It is a matter of life and death to us," said Cole.
"That is true. But mind, the place and not the man."
Cole assented, and then Grotait took him on to a certain
bridge, and pointed out the one weak side of Bolt and Little's
fortress, and showed him how the engine-chimney could be got
at and blown down, and so the works stopped entirely: " And I'll
tell you something," said he; " that chimney is built on a ba 1
foundation, and was never very safe; so you have every chance.'
Then they chaffered about the price; and, at last, Grotait
agreed to give him 201.
Cole went to Coventry and told him how far Grotait would
allow him to go: " but," said he, "201. is not enough. I run
an even chance of being hung or lagged."
" Go a step beyond your instructions, and I'll give you a
hundred pounds."'
"I daren't," said Cole: "unless there was a chance to
blow up the place with the man m it." Then, after a moment's



642          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
reflection, he said: "I hear he sleeps in the works. I must
find out where."
Accordingly, he talked over one of the women in the factory,
and gained the following information, which he imparted to
Mr. Coventry.Little lived and slept in a detached building, recently
erected, and the young woman, who had overpowered Hill,
slept in a room above him. She passed in the works for his
sweetheart, and the pair were often locked up together for
hours at a time in a room, called the " Experiment Room."
This information took Coventry quite by surprise, and embittered his hatred of Little. While Cole was felicitating him
on the situation of the building, he was meditating how to deal
his hated rival a stab of another kind.
Cole, however, was single-minded in the matter; and, the
next day, he took a boat and drifted slowly down the river, and
scanned the place very carefully.
He came at night to Coventry, and told him he thought he
might perhaps be able to do the trick, without seeming to defy
Grotait's instructions. "But," said he, "it is a very dangerous
job. Premises are watched: and, what do you think? they
have got wires up now that run over the street to the policeoffice, and Little can ring a bell in Ransome's room, and bring
the bobbies across with a rush in a moment. It isn't as it was
under the old chief constable; this one's not to be bought nor
blinded. I must risk a halter."
" You shall have fifty pounds more."
"You are a gentleman, sir. I should like to have it in hard
sovereigns. I'm afraid of notes. They get traced somehow."
"You shall have it all in sovereigns."
" I want a little in advance, to buy the materials. They
are costly, especially the fulminating silver."
Coventry gave him ten sovereigns, and they parted with the
understanding that Cole should endeavour to blow up the
premises on some night when Little was in them, and special
arrangements were made to secure this.
Henry Little and Grace Carden received, each of them, an
anonymous letter, on the same day.
Grace Carden's ran thus:I CAN'T abide to see a young lady made a fool of by a villain.
Mr. Little have got his miss here: they dote on each other.



PLT YOURSELF IN 11IS PLACE.             i4i
She lives in the works, and so do he, ever since she cane,
which he usen't afore. They are in one room, as many as eight
hours at a stretch, and that room always locked. It is the talk
of all the girls. It is nought to me, but I thought it right you
should know, for it is quite a scandal. She is a strapping
country lass, with a queerish name. This comes from     a
stranger, but a well-wisher.
" FAIR PLAY."
The letter to Henry Little was as follows:"THE reason of so many warnings, and ne'er a blow, you had
friends in the trade. But you have worn them out. You are
a doomed man. Prepare to meet your God.
This was the last straw on the camel's back, as the
saying is.
He just ground it in his hand, and then he began to act.
He set to work, packed up models, and despatched them
by train: clothes ditto, and wrote a long letter to his mother.
Next day he was busy writing and arranging papers till the
afternoon. Then he called on Grace, as related, and returned
to the works about six o'clock; he ordered a cup of tea at
seven, which Jael brought him. She found him busy writing
letters, and one of these was addressed to Grace Garden.
That was all she saw of him that night; for she went to
bed early; and she was a sound sleeper.
It was nine o'clock of this same evening.
Mr. Coventry, disguised in a beard, was walking up and
down a certain street opposite the great door of the works.
He had already walked and lounged about two hours. At
last Cole joined him for a moment and whispered in a tone full
of meaning, "Will it do now?"
Coventry's teeth chattered together as he replied, "Yes;
now is the time."
" Got the money ready? "
"Yes."
"Let us see it."



P44          PUT CYOUlSELF IN HIIS PLACE.
"When you have done what you promised me."
" That very moment? "
" That very moment."
SThen I'll tell you what you must do. In about an hour
go on the new bridge, and I'll come to you; and, before I've
come to you many minutes, you'll see summut and hear summut
that will make a noise in Hillsbro', and, perhaps, get us both
into trouble."
"Not if you are as dexterous as others have been."
"Others! I was in all those jobs.    But this is the
queerest. I go to it as if I was going to a halter. No matter,
a man can but die once."
And, with these words, he left him and went softly down
to the waterside. There, in the shadow of the new bridge, lay
a little boat, and in it a light-jointed ladder, a small hamper,
and a basket of tools. The rowlocks were covered with tow,
and the oars made no noise whatever, except the scarce audible
dip in the dark stream. It soon emerged below the bridge like
a black spider crawling down the stream, and melted out of
sight the more rapidly that a slight fog was rising.
Cole rowed softly past the works, and observed a very faint
light in Little's room. He thought it prudent to wait till this
should be extinguished, but it was not extinguished. Here was
an unexpected delay.
However, the fog thickened a little, and this encouraged
him to venture; he beached the boat very gently on the muddy
shore, and began his work, looking up every now and then at
that pale light, and ready to fly at the first alarm.
He took out of the boat a large varnish-can, which he had
filled with gunpowder, and wrapped tightly round with wire,
and also with a sash-line; this can was perforated at the side,
and a strong tube screwed tightly into it; the tube protruded
twelve inches from the can in shape of an S: by means of this
a slow-burning fuse was connected with the powder; some
yards of this fuse were wrapt loosely round the can.
Cole crept softly to the engine-chimney, and, groping about
for the right place, laid the can in the engine bottom, and
uncoiled the fuse. He took out of his pocket some small
pieces of tile, and laid the fuse dry on these.
Then he gave a sigh of relief, and crept back to the boat.
Horrible as the action was, he had done all this without
much fear, and with no remorse, for he was used to this sort
of work; but now he had to commit a new crime, and with new



PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.             U40
and terrible materials, which he had never handled in the way
of crime before.
He had in his boat a substance so dangerous, that he had
made a nest of soft cotton for the receptacle which held it;
and, when the boat touched the shore, light as the contact was,
he quaked lest his imprisoned giant-devil should go off and
blow him to atoms.
He put off touching it till the last moment. He got his
jointed ladder, set it very softly underneath the window where
the feeble gas-light was, and felt about with his hands for the
grating he had observed when he first reconnoitred the premises from the river. He found it, but it was so high that he
had to reach a little, and the position was awkward for working.
The problem was how to remove one of those bars, and so
admit his infernal machine: it was about the shape and size of
an ostrich's egg.
It must be done without noise, for the room above him was
Little's, and Little, he knew, had a wire by means of which he
could summon Ransome and the police in the turn of a hand.
The cold of the night, and the now present danger, made
Cole shiver all over, and he paused.
But he began again, and, taking out a fine steel saw highly
tempered, proceeded to saw the iron slowly and gently, ready
at the first alarm to spring from his ladder and run away.
With all his caution, steel grated against steel and made
too much noise in the stilly night. He desisted. He felt
about and found the grating was let into wood, not stone; he
oiled the saw and it cut the wood like butter; he made two
outs like a capital V, and a bar of the grating came loose;
he did the same thing above, and the bar came out.
Cole now descended the ladder, and prepared for the
greatest danger of all. He took from its receptacle the little
metal box lined with glazed paper, which contained the fulminating silver and its fuse; and, holding it as gently as
possible, went and mounted the ladder again, putting his foot
down as softly as a cat.
But he was getting colder and colder, and, at this unfortunate moment, he remembered that, when he was a lad, a man
had been destroyed by fulminating silver, quite a small quantity,
in a plate over which he was leaning; yet the poor wretch's
limbs had been found in different places; and he himself had
seen the head; it had been torn from the trunk and hurled to
an incredible distance.



Mi-|         PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
That trunkless head he now fancied he saw, in the middle
of the fog; and his body began to sweat cold, and his hands
to shake so that he could hardly hold the box. But if he let:t fallHe came hastily down the ladder, and sat down on the
dirty ground, with the infernal engine beside him.
By-and-by he got up and tried to warm his hands and feet
by motion, and, at last, he recovered his fortitude, and went
softly and cat-like up the steps again, in spite of the various
dangers he incurred.
Of what was this man's mind composed, whom neither a
mere bribe could buy to do this deed, nor pure fanaticism without a bribe; but, where both inducements met, neither the risk
of immediate death, nor of imprisonment for life, nor both
t dangers united, could divert him from his deadly purpose,
t hough his limbs shook, and his body was bedewed with a cold
perspiration?
He reached the top of the ladder, he put his hand inside
the grate; there was an aperture, but he could not find the
bottom. He hesitated.
Here was a fresh danger: if he let the box fall it might
explode at once and send him to eternity.
Once more he came softly down, and collected all the tow
and wool he could find. He went up the ladder and put these
things through the grating; they formed a bed.
Then he went back for the fatal box, took it up the ladder
with beating heart, laid it softly in its bed, uncoiled the fuse
and let it hang down.
So now these two fiendish things were placed, and their
devilish tails hanging out behind them. The fuses had been
cut with the utmost nicety to burn the same length of timetwelve minutes.
But Cole was too thoughtful and wary to light the fuses
until everything was prepared for his escape. He put the
ladder on board the boat, disposed the oars so that he could
use them at once; then crept to the engine-chimney, kneeled
down beside the fuse, looked anxiously up at the faint light
glimmering above, and took off his hat.
With singular cunning and forethought he had pasted a
piece of sand-paper into his hat. By this means he lighted
a lucifer at once, and kept it out of sight from the windows,
and also safe from the weather; he drew the end of the fuse
into the hat applied the match to it out of sight, then blew the



PUT YOURSEL IN I HIS PLACE.

347

match out and darted to his other infernal machine. In less
than ten seconds he lighted that fuse too; then stept into the
boat, and left those two devilish sparks creeping each on its
fatal errand. He pulled away with exulting bosom, beating
heart, and creeping flesh. He pulled swiftly up stream, landed
at the bridge, staggered up the steps, and found Coventry at his
post, but almost frozen, and sick of waiting.
He staggered up to him and gasped out, " I've done thL
trick, give me the brass, and let me go. I see a halter in the
air." His teeth chattered.
But Coventry, after hoping and fearing for two hours and a
balf, had lost all confidence in his associate, and he said,
"How am I to know you've done anything? "
" You'll see and you'll hear," said Cole. " Give me the
brass."
" Wait till I see and hear," was the reply.
"What, wait to be nabbed?  Another minute, and all the
town will be out after me. Give it me, or I'll take it."
" Will you? " And Coventry took out a pistol, and cocked
it. Cole recoiled.
" Look here," said Coventry; " there are one hundred
and fifty sovereigns in this bag. The moment I receive proof
you have not deceived me, I give you the bag."
" Here, where we stand? "
" Here, on this spot."
" Hush! not so loud. Didn't I hear a step?"
They both listened keenly.  The fog was thick by this
time.
Cole whispered, " Look down the river. I wonder which
will go off first?  It is very cold; very."  And he shook like
a mlan in an ague.
Both men listened, numbed with cold, and quivering with
the expectation of crime.
A clock struck twelve.
At the first stroke the confederates started and uttered a
cry. They were in that state when everything sudden shakes
men like thunder.
All still again, and they listened and shook again with fog
and crime.
Sudden a lurid flash, and a report, dull and heavy, and
something tall seemed to lean towards them from the sky, and
there was a mighty rushing sound, and a cold wind in their
faces, and an awful fall of masonry on the water, and the water



348

PUT YOUTSELF IN Ills PLACE.

spurted under the stroke. The great chimney had fallen in the
river. At this very moment came a sharp, tremendous report
like a clap of thunder close at hand.  It was so awful, that
both bag and pistol fell out of Coventry's hand and rang upon
the pavement, and he fled, terror-stricken.
Cole, though frightened, went down on his knees, and got
the bag, and started to run the other way.
But almost at the first step he ran against a man, who was
running towards him.
Both were staggered by the shock, and almost knocked
down.
But the man recovered himself first, and seized Cole with
a grip of iron.
When Coventry had run a few steps, he recovered his
judgment so far as to recollect, that this would lay him open to
suspicion. He left off running, and walked briskly instead.
Presently the great door of the works was opened, and the
porter appeared crying wildly for help, and that the place was
on fire.
The few people that were about made a rush, and Coventry,
driven by an awful curiosity, went in with them; for why
should he be suspected any more than they?
He had not gone in half a minute when Mr. Ransome
arrived with several policemen, and closed the doors at once
against all comers.
Strange to say, the last explosion had rung the bell in the
police office; hence this prompt appearance of the police.
The five or six persons who got in with Coventry knew
nothing, and ran hither and thither. Coventry, better informed,
darted at once to Little's quarters, and there beheld an awful
sight; the roof presented the appearance of a sieve: of the
second floor little remained but a few of the joists, and these
were most of them broken and stood on end and across each
other, like a hedgehog's bristles.
In Little's room, a single beam in the centre, with a fragment of board, kept its place, but the joists were all dislocated
or broken in two, and sticking up here and there in all directions: huge holes had been blown in the walls of both rooms,
and much of the contents of the rooms blown out by them: so
vast were these apertures, that it seemed wonderful how the
structure hung together; the fog was as thick in the dismembered and torn building as outside, bnt a large gas-pipe in



rU7 YOURtSELF iN HIS PLACE.

349

Litlte's room was wrenched into the form of a snake and
broken, and the gas set on fire and flaring, so that the devastation was visible; the fireplace also hung on heaven knows
how.
Coventry cast his eyes round, and recoiled with horror at
what he had done: his foot struck something; it was the
letter-box, full of letters, still attached to the broken door. By
some instinct of curiosity he stooped and peered. There was
one letter addressed " Grace Garden."
He tried to open the box; he could not: he gave it a
wrench, it was a latticed box, and came to pieces. He went
down the stairs with the fragments and the letters in his hand;
feet approached, and he heard a voice close to him say, "This
way, Mr. Ransome, for God's sake! " A sort of panic seized
him; he ran back, and in his desperation jumped on to the
one beam that was standing, and from that through the open
wall, and fell on the soft mud by the river bank. Though the
ground was soft, the descent shook him and embedded him so
deeply he could not extricate himself for some time. But
terror lends energy, and he was now thoroughly terrified: he
thrust the letters in his pocket, and, being an excellent
swimmer, dashed at once into the river; but he soon found it
choked up with masonry and debris of every kind: he coasted
this, got into the stream, and swam across to the other side.
Then taking the lowest and darkest streets, contrived at last
to get home, wet and filthy, and quaking.
Ransome and his men examined the shattered building
within and without; but no trace could be found of any human
being, alive or dead.
Then they got to the river-side with lights, and here they
found footmarks. Ransome set men to guard these from being
walked over.
Attention was soon diverted from these. Several yards
from the torn building, a woman was found lying all huddled
together on a heap of broken masonry. She was in her nightdress, and a counterpane half over her. Her forehead and
head were bleeding, and she was quite insensible. The police
recognized her directly. It was Jael Dence.
She was alive, though insensible, and Ransome had her
conveyed at once to the infirmary.
"Bring more lights to the water-side," said he; "the
explosion has acted in that direction."
Many torches were brought. Keen eyes scanned the water.



3ýO          PTUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
One or two policemen got out upon the ruins of the chimney,
and went ankle-deep in water. But what they sought could
not be found. Ransome said he was glad of it. Everybody
knew what he meant.
He went back to Little's room, and examined it minutely.
In the passage he found a card-case. It was lying on the
door. Ransome took it up mechanically, and put it in his
pocket. He did not examine it at this time: he took for
granted it was Little's. He asked one of his men whether a
man had not been seen in that room. The officer said "Yes."
"Did he come down? "
" No; and I can't think how he got out."
" It is plain how he got out; and that accounts for something I observed in the mud. Now, Williams, you go to my
place for that stuff I use to take the mould of foot-pri'
Bring plenty. Four of you scour the town, and try and find
out who has gone home with river-mud on his shoes or trou--
sers. Send me the porter."
When the porter came, he asked him whether Mr. Little
had slept in the works.
The porter could not say for certain.
" Well, but what was his habit? "
" He always slept here of late."
" When did you see him last? "
"I let him into the works."
" When? "
"I should think about seven o'clock."
" Did you let him out again? "
" No, Mr. Ransome."
" Perhaps you might, and not recollect. Pray think."
The porter shook his head.
'"Are you sure you did not let him out? "
"I am quite sure of that."
" Then the Lord have mercy on his soul I"
CHAPTER XXXIII.
fHAT was Grace Garden's first anonymous letter. Its content,
curdled her veins with poison. The poor girl sat pale and
bunumbed, turning the letter in her hand, and reading the
fatal words over and over again.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

35l1

There was a time when she would have entirely disbelieved
btis slander; but now she remembered, with dismay, how many
things had combined to attach Henry to Jael Dence. And
then the letter stated such hard facts; facts unknown to her,
but advanced positively.
But what terrified her most was that Henry had so lately
told her Jael Dence loved him best.
Yet her tossed and tortured mind laid hold of this comfort, that not the man only, but the woman too, were loyal,
faithful spirits. Could they both have changed?  Appearances are deceitful, and might have deceived this anonymous
writer.
After hours of mere suffering, she began to ask herself
what she should do?
Her first feminine impulse was to try and find out the
truth without Henry's aid.
But, no; on second thoughts she would be open and loyal,
show Henry the letter, and ask him to tell her how much
truth, if any, there was in it.
The agony she endured was a lesson to her. Now she
knew what jealousy was, and saw at once she could not endure
its torments. She thought to herself he was quite right to
make her dismiss Mr. Coventry, and he must dismiss Jael:
she should insist on it.
This resolution formed, she lived on thorns, awaiting Henry
Little's next visit.
He came next day, but she was out.
She asked the servant if he had said anything.
The servant said, " He seemed a good deal put out at
first, Miss, but afterwards he said, 'No, it was all for the
best.' "
This was another blow. Grace connected these words of
Henry in some mysterious way with the anonymous letter, and
spent the night cryiing: but, in the morning, being a brave
high-spirited girl, she resolved to take a direct course; she
would go down to the works, and request an explanation on
the premises. She would see the room where Henry was said
to pass so many hours with Jael, and she would show him that
the man she loved, and lived for, must place himself above
suspicion, or lose her for ever. "And if he quarrels with me
for that," she thought, " why I can die." She actually carried
out her resolution, and went early next morning to the works,
to demand an explanation. She took the letter with her. As



5 '.          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
she went along she discussed in her own mind how she should
proceed, and at last she resolved to just hand him the letter
and fix her eve on him. His face would tell her the truth.
She drove up to the great gate; there were a good many
people about, talking, in excited groups.
The porter came out to her. She said she wished to see
Mr. Little.
The porter stared: the people within hearing left off talking, and stared, too, at her, and then at one another.
At last the porter found his voice. " Mr. Little! why we
can't find him anywhere, dead or alive."
Just then, Ransome came out, and, seeing Miss Carden,
gave a start, and looked much concerned.
G   OI surprised this look, and her own face began to fill
with si rise, and then with alarm. " Not to be found! " she
falteredl.
She did not know Mr. Ransome, but he knew her; and he
came to the carriage-window, and said, in a low voice, " Miss
Carden, I am the chief constable. I would advise you to
return home. The fact is, there has been an explosion here,
and a young woman nearly killed."
" Poor creature! But Mr. Little! Oh, sir! Oh, sir! "
" We can't find him," said Ransome, solemnly: " and we
fear-we sadly fear-   "
Grace uttered a low cry, and then sat trembling.
Ransome tried to console her; said it was just possible he
might have not slept in the works.
The porter shook his head.
Grace sprang from the carriage. " Show me the place,"
said she, hoarsely.
Ransome demurred. " It is an ugly sight for any one
to see."
" Who has a better right to see it than I?  I shall find
him, if he is there. Give me your arm: I have heaxd him
speak of you."
Then Ransome yielded reluctantly, and took her to the
place.
He showed her Henry's room, all rent and mutilated.
She shuddered, and, covering her face with her hands,
leaned half fainting against her conductor: but soon she shook
this off, and became inspired with strange energy, though her
face was like marble.
She drew him, indeed almost dragged him, hither an I



PUT YOURSEILF IN HIS PLACE.

858

thither, questioning him, and listening to everybody's con.
jcctures; for there were loud groups here of work-people and
townspeople.
Some thought he was buried under the great chimney in
the river, others intimated plainly their fear that he was blown
to atoms.
At each suggestion Grace Carden's whole body winced and
quivered, as if the words were sword-cuts; but she would not
be persuaded to retire. "No, no," she cried, " amongst so
many, some one will guess right. I'll hear all they think, if
I die on the spot: die! What is life to me now?  Ah! what
is that woman saying?" And she hurried Ransome towards
a work-woman who was haranguing several of her comrades.
The woman saw Ransome coming towards her with a strange
lady. " Ah! " said she, " here's the constable. Mr. Ransome,
will ye tell me where you found the lass, yesternight? "
" She was lying on that heap of bricks: I marked the place
with two pieces of chalk; ay, here they are; her head lay
here, and her feet here."
" Well then," said the woman, " he will not be far from
that place. You clear away those bricks and rubbish, and you
will find him underneath. She was his sweetheart, that is
well known here; and he was safe to be beside her, when the
place was blown up."
" No such thing," said Ransome, angrily, and casting a
side-look at Grace. " She lay on the second floor, and Mr.
Little on the first floor."
" Thou simple body," said the woman. " What's a stair
to a young man, when a bonny lass lies awaiting him, and not
a soul about? They were a deal too close together all day,
to be distant at night."
A murmur of assent burst at once from all the women.
Grace's body winced and quivered, but her marble face
never stirred, nor did her lips utter a sound.
" Come away from their scandalous tongues," said Ransomes.
eagerly.
"No," said Grace; and such a "No."      It was like a
statue uttering a chip of its own marble.
SThen she stood quivering a moment: then, leaving Ransome's arm, she darted up to the place where Jael Dence had
been found.
She stood, like a bird, on the broken masonry, and opened
her beautiful eyes in a strange way, and demanded of all her
AA



854          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
senses whether the body of him she loved lay beneath her feet
After a minute, during which every eye was riveted on her,
she said, " I don't believe it; I don't feel him near me. But
I will know."
She took out her purse, full of gold, and held it up to the
women. " This for you, if you will help me."  Then, kneeling down, she began to tear up the bricks and throw them, one
after another, as far as her strength permitted. The effect on
the work-women was electrical; they swarmed on the broken
masonry, and began to clear it away brick by brick. They
worked with sympathetic fury, led by this fair creature, whose
white hands were soon soiled and bloody, but never tired. In
less than an hour they had cleared away several waggon-loads
of debris.
The body of Henry Little was not there.
Grace gave her purse to the women, and leaned heavily on
Mr. Ransome's arm again.    He supported her out of the
works.
As soon as they were alone, she said, " Is Jael Dence alive
or dead? "
" She was alive half an hour ago."
" Where is she? "
" At the hospital."
" Take me to the hospital."
He took her to the hospital, and soon they stood beside a
clean little bed, in which lay the white, but still comely face,
of Jael Dence: her luxuriant hair was cut close, and her
head bandaged; but for her majestic form she looked a fair,
dying boy.
" Stand back," said Grace, " and let me speak to her."
Then she leaned over Jael, where she lay.
Gentle women are not all gentleness. Watch them, especially in contact with their own sex, and you shall see now and
then a trait of the wild animal. Grace Garden at this moment
was anything but dove-like: it was more like a falcon the way
she clutched the bedclothes, and towered over that prostrate
figure, and then, descending slowly, nearer and nearer, plunged
her eyes into those fixed and staring orbs of Jael Dence.
So she remained riveted. Had Jael been conscious, and
culpable, nothing could have escaped a scrutiny so penetrating,
Even unconscious as she was, Jael's brain and body began
to show some signs they were not quite impervious to the
strange magnetic power which besieged them so closely. When



PUT YOURSELF IN HIIS PLACE.             355
Grace's eyes had been close to hers about a minute, Jael Dence
moved her head slightly to the left, as if those eyes scorched
her.
But Grace moved her own head to the right, rapid as a
snalke, and fixed her again directly.
Jael Dence's bosom gave a heave.
" Where-is-Henry Little? " said Grace, still holding her
tight by the eye, and speaking very slowly, and in such a tone,
low, but solemn and commanding; a tone that compelled reply.
"' Where-is-Henry Little? "
When this was so repeated, Jael moved a little, and her
lips began to quiver.
" Where-is-Henry Little    "
Jael's lips opened feebly, and some inarticulate sounds
issued from them.
" Where-is-Henry Little?"
Jael Dence, though unconscious, writhed and moaned so,
that the head nurse interfered, and said she could not have the
patient tormented.
Ransome waved her aside, but taking Grace Garden's
hand drew her gently away.
She made no positive resistance; but while her body yielded
and retired, her eye remained riveted on Jael Dence, and her
hand clutched the air, like a hawk's talons, unwilling to lose
her prey, and then she turned so weak, Ransome had to support her to her carriage.
As Grace's head sunk on Ransomis shoulder, Jael Dence's
eyes closed for the first time.
As Ransome was lifting Grace Carden into the carriage,
she said, in a sort of sleepy voice, " Is there no way out of
these works, but one? "
" Not that I know of; but I will go at once and see.
Shall he drive you home? "
" Yes. No: to Dr. Amboyne."
Dr. Amboyne was gone to Woodbine Villa.
She waited in his study, moving about the room all the
time, with her face of marble, and her poor restless hands.
At last the Doctor returned: they told him, at the door,
Miss Garden was there: he came in to her with both hands
extended, and his face working with emotion.
She fell sobbing into his arms: sobbing, but not a tear.
~* Is there any hope? "
AA2



356          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" I have one. May he not have left the country, in a fit
of despair? He often threatened. He talked of going to the
United States."
So he did.   Ah, he called on me yesterday afternoon.
Might not that have been to bid me good-by?"
She looked so imploringly in Doctor Amboyne's face, that
he assented, though full of doubt.
And now there was a ring at the bell, and Mr. Ransome
cameto say there was a little postern gate, by which Mr. Little
might possibly have gone out and the porter not seen him;
and, what was more, this gate, by all accounts, had been
recently opened: it was closed before Bolt and Little took the
premises.
Mr. Ransome added that he should now make it his
business to learn, if possible, whether it had been opened by
Mr. Little's orders.
Grace thanked him earnestly, and looked hopeful; so did
Doctor Amboyne.
" But, Doctor! " said Grace, " if he has gone away at all,
ne must have told somebody. Even if there was nobody he
loved, he would tell-ah! Mr. Bolt!! "
" You are right. Let us go to him at once."
They found Mr. Bolt in quite a different frame of mind
from their 'own; he was breathing vengeance. However, he
showed some feeling for Grace, and told the Doctor plainly he
feared the worst. Little had been down-hearted for some time,
and, at last, he (Bolt) had lost patience with him, and had
proposed to him to take an annual payment of nine hundred
pounds instead of a share, and leave the concern. Little had
asked two days to consider this proposal. " Now," argued
Bolt, "if he meant to leave England, he could not do better
than take my offer: and he would have taken it, before he
left. He would have called, or else sent me a letter. But
no: not a word! It's a bad job: l'm fond of money, but I'd
give a few thousands to see him alive again. But I don't
think I ever shall. There are five hundred thousand bricks of
ours in that river, and a foot and a half of mud."
While they were both shuddering at this dark allusion, ha
went off into idle threats, and Grace left him, sick and cold,
and clinging to Doctor Amboyne like a drowning woman.
" Have courage," said Doctor Amboyne. " There is one
chance left us. His mother! I will telegraph to Aberystwith."
They drove together to the telegraph office, and sent a



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

857

telegram. The Doctor would not consent to frighten Mrs.
Little to death. He simply asked whether her son had just
visited or written to her. The answer was paid for; but four
hours elapsed, and no answer came.
Then Grace implored the Doctor to go with her to Aberystwith. He looked grave, and said she was undertaking too
much. She replied, almost fiercely, that she must do all that
could be done, or she should go mad.
" But your father, my dear! "
" He is in London. I will tell him all when he returns.
He would let me go anywhere with you. I must go; I will I"
At four o'clock they were in the train. They spoke to
each other but little on the way: their hearts were too full of
dire forebodings, to talk about nothings. But when they were
in the fly at Aberystwith, going from the station to Mrs. Little's
lodgings, Grace laid her head on her friend's shoulder and
said, " Oh, Doctor, it has come to this-I hope he loved his
mother better than me." Then came a flood of tears, the
first.
They went to Mrs. Little's lodgings. The landlady had
retired to bed, and, on hearing their errand, told them, out of
the second-floor window, that Mrs. Little had left her some
days ago, and gone to a neighbouring village for change of air.
Grace and Doctor Amboyne drove next morning to that
village, and soon learned where Mrs. Little was. Doctor Amboyne left Grace at the inn, for he knew the sight of her would
at once alarm Mrs. Little; and, in a matter so uncertain as
this, he thought the greatest caution necessary. Grace waited
for him at the inn in an agony of suspense. She watched at
the window for him, and at last she saw him coming towards
her. His head was down, and she could not read his face, or
she could have told in a moment whether he brought good
news or bad.
She waited for him erect but trembling. He opened the
door and stood before her pale and agitated; so pale and agitated she had never seen him before.
He faltered out: " She knows nothing. She must know
nothing. She is too ill and weak, and, indeed, in such a con.
dition, that to tell her the fatal news would probably have
killed her on the spot. All I dared do was to ask her with
assumed indifference if she had heard from Henry lately. No,
Grace, not for these three days."
He sat down and groaned aloud.



s58          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
"You love the son," said he; " but I love the mother:
loved her years before you were born."
At this unexpected revelation Grace Garden kissed him, and
wept on his shoulder. Then they went sadly home again.
Doctor Amboyne now gave up all hopes of Henry, and his
anxiety was concentrated on Mrs. Little. How on earth was
he to save her from a shock likely to prove fatal in her weak
condition?  To bring her to Hillsborough in her present state
would be fatal. He was compelled to leave her in Wales, and
that looked so like abandoning her. He suffered torture, the
torture that only noble minds can know. At midnight, as he
lay in bed, and revolved in his mind all the difficulties and
perils of this pitiable situation, an idea struck him. He would
try and persuade Mrs. Little to marry him. Should she consent, he could then take her on a wedding-tour, and that tour
he could easily extend from place to place, putting off the evil
time until, strong in health and conjugal affection, she might
be able to endure the terrible, the inevitable blow. The very
next morning he wrote to her an eloquent letter; he told her
that Henry had gone suddenly off to Australia to sell his
patents; that almost his last word had been, 1" My mother! I
leave her to you." This, said the Doctor, is a sacred commission: and how can I execute it? I cannot invite you to Hillsborough, for the air is fatal to you. Think of your half-promise,
and my many years of devotion, and give me the right to carry
out your son's wishes to the full.
Mrs. Little replied to this letter, and the result of the cor
respondence was this: she said she would marry him if she
could recover her health: but that she feared she never should,
until she was reconciled to her brother.
Meantime, Grace Garden fell into a strange state: fits of
feverish energy; fits of death-like stupor.  She could do
nothing, yet it maddened her to be idle. With Bolt's permission she set workmen to remove all the remains of the
chimney that could be got at: the water was high just then:
she had a barge and workmen, and often watched them, and
urged them by her presence. Not that she ever spoke; but
she hovered about with her marble face and staring eyes; and
the sight of her touched their hearts and spurred them to
exertion.
Sometimes she used to stand on a heap of bricks hard by,
and peer, with dilated eyes, into the dark stream, and watchb



PUT YOURSELF LN HIS PLACE.              U19
each bucket, or basket, as it came up with bricks, and rubbish,
and mud, from the bottom.
At other times she would stand on the bridge, and lean
over the battlements so far, as if she would fly down and search
for her dead lover.
One day as she hung thus, glaring into the water, she
heard a deep sigh. She looked up, and there was a face
almost as pale as her own, and even more haggard, looking at
her with a strange mixture of pain and pity. This ghastly
spectator of her agony was himself a miserable man. It was
Frederick Coventry. His crime had brought him no happiness,
no hope of happiness.
At sight of him, Grace Carden groaned, and covered her
face with her hands.
Coventry drew back dismayed. His guilty conscience misinterpreted this.
" You can forgive us now," said Grace, with a deep sob:
then turned away with sullen listlessness, and continued her
sad scrutiny.
Coventry loved her, after his fashion, and her mute but
eloquent misery moved him.
" He drew nearer to her, and said softly, " Do not look so:
I can't bear it. He is not there."
"Ah! How do you know? "
Coventry was silent for a moment, and seemed uneasy:
but, at last, he replied thus:--" There were two explosions.
The chimney fell into the river a moment before the explosion
that blew up the works. So how can he be buried under
the ruins of the chimney?   I know this from a workman
who was standing on the bridge when the explosions took
place."
"Bless the tongue that tells me that. Oh, how much
wiser you are than the rest of us   Mr. Coventry, pity and
forgive a poor girl who has used you ill. Tell me-tell mewhat can have become of him? "
Coventry was much agitated, and could not speak for some
time, and, when he did, it was in a faint voice as of one exhausted by a mental struggle. "Would you rather he wasdead-or false?"
" Oh, false-a thousand times-prove to me he is not dead,
but only false to his poor Grace, and I will bless you on my
knees."
Coventry's eye flashed. "Well, then, he was the lover of



860          PUT YOURSELU IN HIS PLACE.
Jael Dence, the girl who fought for him, and shed her blood
for him, and saved his life. The connection was open and
notorious."
Grace was silent.
" Many a man has fled from two women who could have
been happy with either of them. I believe that this man found
himself unable to play the double game any longer, and that he
has fled the country--"
" I pray God it may be so," sobbed Grace.
"-Through remorse, or from dread of exposure. Have
patience. Do not kill yourself, and break all our hearts.
Take my word for it, you will hear from him in a few days, and
he will give you reasons for his strange disappearance,-excellent, business-like reasons, but not the true ones: there will
not be a word about Jael Dence." This last with a sneer.
Grace turned on him with eyes that literally gleamed:
" You hated him living, you slander him dead. Falsehood was
not in him: his affection for Jael Dence was no secret. I knew
it, and approved it. It was as pure as heaven. His poor
mutilated body will soon contradict these vile calumnies. I
hate you! I hate you!"
Coventry drew back at first from this burst of ire; but soon
he met her glance with one of fiendish bitterness. " You hate
me for pitying you, and saying that man is not dead. Wvell,
have your own way, then; he is not false, but dead."
He turned on his heel, and went away.
As for Mr. Garden, he declined to admit that Little was
dead, and said his conduct was unpardonable, and, indeed, so
nearly resembled madness, that, considering the young man's
father had committed suicide, he was determined never to admit
him into his house again, at all events as a suitor to Grace.
Mr. Coventry had now taken spacious apartments, and
furnished them. He resumed his visits to the club.   Mr.
Carden met him there, and spoke more confidentially to him
than he did to his daughter, and admitted he had grave doubts,
but said he was a director of the Gosshawk, and would never,
either in public or private, allow that Little was dead, unless
his body should be found, and properly identified.
All this time there was a hot discussion in the journals;
and the Saw-grindeis' Union repudiated the outrage with horror,
end offered a considerable reward.



PUI YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

361

Outsiders were taken in by this; but not a single manufacturer or workman.
Mr. Holdfast denounced it as a Trade outrage: and Ransome groped the town for evidence.
The latter, however, was rather puzzled one day by an
anonymous letter telling him he was all on the wrong tack;
it was not a Trade job, but contrived by a gentleman for his
private ends. Advantage had been taken of Little being wrong
with the Trade; " but," said the letter, " you should look to
the head for the motive, not to the hands. One or two saw
them together a good many times before the deed was done,
and the Swell was seen on the very bridge when the explosion
took place."  This set lansome thinking very seriously and
comparing notes.
Week after week went by and left the mystery unsolved.
Mr. Coventry saw Mr. Carden nearly every day, and asked
him was there no news of Little? The answer was always in
the negative, and this surprised Coventry more and more.
When a whole month had elapsed, even he began to fancy
strange things, and to nurse wild projects that had never
entered his head before. He studied books of medical jurisprudence, and made all manner of experiments. He resumed
his intimacy with Cole, and they were often closeted together.
Five weeks had elapsed, and Grace Carden had lost all her
feverish energy, and remained passive, lethargic, fearing everything, hoping nothing, but quivering all day with expectation
of the next blow; for what had she left to expect now but
sorrow in some form or other?
She often wished to visit Jael Dence again at the hospital;
but, for some time, an invincible repugnance withheld her.
She asked Doctor Amboyne to go instead, and question the
unhappy girl.
Doctor Amboyne did so; but Jael was now in a half stupid
condition, and her poor brain not clear enough to remember
what she was wanted to remember. Her memory was full of
gaps, and, unluckily, one of these gaps embraced the whole
period between her battle with Hill and the present time.
At last Grace was irritated, and blamed the Doctor for his
failure. She reminded him she had herself magnetized Jael,
and had almost made her speak. She resolved to go to the
hospital herself. " I'll make her tell me one thing," said she,
" though I tear her heart out, and my own too."
She dressed plainly, and walked rapidly down towards the



862

PUT YOURSELF IX flIS PLACE.

'ospital. There were two ways to it, but she choae the one
that was sure to give her pain.  She could not help it; her
very feet dragged her to that fatal spot.
When she drew near the fatal bridge, she observed a
number of persons collected on it, looking down in the river at
some distance.
At the same time people began to hurry past her, making
for the bridge.
She asked one of them what it was.
" Summut in the river," was the reply, but in a tone so
lull of meaning, that, at these simple words, she ran forward,
though her knees almost gave way under her.
The bridge was not so crowded yet, but that she contrived
to push in between two women, and look.
All the people were speaking in low murmurs. The hot
weather had dried the river up to a stream in the middle, and,
in mid-stream, about fifty yards from the foot of the bridge,
was a pile of broken masonry, which had once been the upper
part of Bolt and Little's chimney. It had fallen into water
twelve feet deep; but now the water was not above five feet,
and a portion of the broken bricks and tiles were visible, some
just above, some just under the water.
At one side of this wreck jutted out the object on which
all eyes were now fastened. At first sight, it looked a crooked
log of wood, sticking out from among the bricks. Thousands,
indeed, had passed the bridge, and noticed nothing particular
about it; but one, more observant or less hurried, had peered,
and then pointed, and collected the crowd.
It needed but a second look to show that this was not a
log of wood, but the sleeve of a man's coat. A closer inspection revealed that the sleeve was not empty.
There was an arm inside that sleeve, and a little more
under the water one could see distinctly a hand white and
sodden by the water.
The dark stream just rippled over this hand, half veiling it
at times, though never hiding it.
"The body will be jammed among the bricks," said a
bystander; and all assented with awe.
" Eh I to think of its sticking out an arm like that I "
said a young girl.
"Dead folk have done more than that, sooner than want
Christian burial," replied an old woman.
"I warrant ye they have. I can't look at it."



PUT YOURSELF IN IS PLAC1.86

868

" Is it cloth, or what? " inquired another.
" It's a kind of tweed, I think."
" What's that glittering on its finger? "
" It's a ring,-a gold ring."
At this last revelation there was a fearful scream, and
Grace Carden fell senseless on the pavement.
A gentleman, who had been hanging about and listening to
the comments, now darted forward, with a face almost as white
as her own, and raised her up, and implored the people to get
her a carriage.
It was Mr. Coventry. He had not counted on this meeting.
Horror-stricken, he conveyed the insensible girl to her father's
house. He handed her over to the women, and fled; and the
women brought her round; but she had scarcely recovered her
senses, when she uttered another piercing scream, and swooned
again.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
COVENTRY passed a night of agony and remorse. He got up
broken and despondent, and went straight to Woodbine Villa,
to do a good action.
He inquired for Miss Carden. They told him she was
very ill. He expressed an earnest wish to see her.    The
servants told him that was impossible. Nobody was allowed to
see her but Doctor Amboyne. He went, next day, to Doctor
Amboyne, and the Doctor told him that Miss Carden was
dangerously ill. Brain fever appeared inevitable.
" But, sir," said Coventry, eagerly, " if one could prove to
her that those were not the remains of Henry Little?"
"How could you prove that?     Besides, it would be no
use now. She is delirious. Even should she live, I should
forbid the subject for many a day. Indeed, none but the man
himself could make her believe those remains are not his; and
even he could not save her now. If he stood by her bedside,
she would not know him."
The Doctor's lip trembled a little, and his words were so
grave and solemn that they struck to the miserable man's
marrow. He staggered away, like a drunken man, to his
lodgings, and there flung himself on the floor, and grovelled in
an agony of terror and remorse.



FUT 'YOURSELF IN EHI PMACE.

CHAPTER XXXV.
ONE day it occurred to Raby he could play the misanthrope
just as well at home as abroad, so he returned home.
He found old Dence dead and buried, and Patty Dence
gone to Australia with her husband.
He heard Jael was in the hospital. He called at Woodbine
Villa, and they told him Grace was lying between life and
death.
He called on Doctor Amboyne, and found him as sad as he
used to be gay. The Doctor told him all, and even took him
to the Town Hall, and showed him an arm and part of the
trunk of a man preserved in spirits, and a piece of tweed
cloth, and a plain gold ring.
"There," said he, "is all that remains to us of your
nephew, and my friend. Genius, beauty, courage-all come
to this 1 " He could say no more.
The tears filled Raby's eyes, and all his bitterness melted
away. With respect io his sister, he said he was quite willing
to be reconciled, and even to own himself in the wrong, if
Doctor Amboyne, on reading the correspondence, should think
so. Doctor Amboyne said he would come to Raby Hall for
that purpose. He communicated this at once to Mrs. Little.
Grace had a favourable crisis, and in a few days more she
was out of danger, but in a deplorable state of weakness.
Doctor Amboyne ordered her to the seaside. A carriage was
prepared expressly for her, and her father took her there.
Woodbine Villa was put up to let furnished, and it was
taken by-Mr. Coventry.
Jael Dence began to recover strength rapidly, but she wore
at times a confused look. The very. day Grace left for Eastbank, she was discharged as cured, and left the hospital. This
was in the morning.
In the afternoon Dr. Amboyne, being now relieved of his
anxiety as to Grace, remembered he had not been to see this
poor girl for some time; so he went to the hospital.
When he heard she was discharged, he felt annoyed with
himself for not having paid her closer attention. And, besides,
Grace had repeatedly told him Jael Dence could make a revelation if she chose. And now, occupied with Grace herself, he
had neglected her wishes.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             865
" Where is she gone? do you know? "
One of the nurses said she was gone home.
Another said the patient had told her she should go down to
the works first.
" And that is the very last place you should have let her go
to," said the Doctor. " A fine shock the poor creature will
get there. You want her back here again, I suppose! "  He
felt uneasy, and drove down to the works. There he made
some inquiries among the women, and elicited that Jael Dence
had turned faint at the sight of the place, and they had shown
her, at her request, where she had been picked up, and had
told her about the discovery of Little's remains, and she had
persuaded a little girl to go to the Town Hall with her.
" Oh, the tongue! the tongue 1 " groaned Amboyne.
He asked to see the little girl, and she came forward of her
own accord, and told him she had gone to the Town Hall with
the lass, but (regretfully) " that the man would not show them
it without an order from the Mayor." " It! "
Doctor Amboyne said he was very glad that common sense
had not quite deserted the earth. "And where did you go
next? "
"I came back here."
" So I see; but the lass?"
" She said she should go home. 'My dear,' says she,
'there's nobody left me here; I'll go and die among my own
folk.' That was her word."
"Poor thing! poor thing! Why-     "
He stopped short, for that moment he remembered Raby
had said old Dence was dead, and Patty gone to Australia. If
so, here was another blow in store for poor Jael, and she
weakened by a long illness.
He instantly resolved to drive after her, and see whether
she was really in a fit state to encounter so many terrible
shocks. If not, he should take her back to the infirmary, or
into his own house; for he had a great respect for her, and
indeed for all her family.
He drove fast, but he could see nothing of her on the road.
So then he went on to Cairnhope.
He stopped at the farmhouse. It was sadly deteriorated in
appearance. Inside he found only an old carter, and his
daughter. The place was in their charge.
The old man told him apathetically, Jael had come home
two hours ago, and asked for her father and Patty, and they



866          PUT YOURSELF IN IIS PLACE.
had told her the old farmer was dead and buried, and Patty
gone to foreign parts.
" What, you blurted it out like that! You couldn't put
yourself in that poor creature's place, and think what a blow it
would be? How, in heaven's name, did she take it? "
"Well, sir, she stared a bit, and looked stupid-like; and
then she sat down. She sat crowded altogether like, in yon
corner, best part of an hour: and then she got up and said she
must go and see his grave."
" You hadn't the sense to make her eat, of course? "
"My girl here set meat afore her; but she couldn't
taste it."
Dr. Amboyne drove to Raby Hall and told Raby. Raby
said he would have Jael up to the hall. It would be a better
place for her now, than the farm. He ordered a room to be got
ready for her, and a large fire lighted, and at the same time
ordered the best bedroom for Doctor Amboyne. " You must
dine and sleep here," said he, " and talk of old times."
Dr. Amboyne thanked him-it was dusk by this time--and
was soon seated at that hospitable table, with a huge wood-fire
blazing genially.
Meantime Jael Dence sat crouched upon her father's grave,
stupefied with grief. When she had crouched there a long
time, she got up, and muttered, "Dead and gone, dead and
gone." Then she crept up to the old church, and sat down in
the porch, benumbed with grief, and still a little confused in hei
poor head.
She sat there for nearly two hours, and then she got up,
and muttered, "Dead and gone,-he is dead and gone," and
wandered on the hill desolate.
Her feet wandered, her brain wandered. She found herself,
at last, in a place she recognized. It was Squire Raby's lawn.
The moon had just risen, and shone on the turf, and on the
little river that went curling round with here and there a deep
pool.
She crept nearer, and saw the great bay-window, and a
blaze of light behind it.
There she had sung the great Noel with her father; and
now he was dead and gone.
There she had been with Henry Little, and seen him
recognize his mother's picture; and now he was dead and gone.
She had saved his life in vain; he was dead and gone. Everybody was dead and gone.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              867
She looked up at the glowing window. She looked down
at the pool, with the moon kissing it.
She flung her arms up, with a scream of agony, and sank
into the deep pool, where the moon seemed most to smile on it,
Directly after dinner, Amboyne asked to see the unhappy
correspondence of which he was to be the judge.
Raby went for the letters, and laid them before him. He
took up the fatal letter. " Why this is not written by Mrs.
Little. I know her neat Italian hand too well. See how the
letters slant and straggle."
" Oh! but you must allow for the writer's agitation."
"Why should I allow for it? You didn't. Who can look
at this scrawl, and not see that the poor heart-broken creature
was not herself when she wrote it?  This is not a letter,-it
is a mere scream of agony. Put yourself in her place. Imagine
yourself a woman,-a creature in whom the feelings overpower
the judgment. Consider the shock, the wound, the phrenzy;
and, besides, she had no idea that you left this house to get her
husband the money from your own funds."
" She never shall know it either."
" She does know it. I have told her. And, poor thing,
she thinks she was the only one to blame. She seeks your
forgiveness. She pines for it. This is the true cause of her
illness; and I believe, if you could forgive her and love her, it
might yet save her life."
" Then tell her I blame myself as much as her. Tell her
my house, my arms, and my heart are open to her. Amboyne,
you are a true friend, and a worthy man. God bless you.
How shall we get her here, poor soul?  Will you go for her,
or shall I? "
" Let me sleep on that," said Doctor Amboyne.
In the course of the evening, Doctor Amboyne told Raby
all the reports about Jael Dence and Henry Little.
" What does that matter now? " said Raby, with a sigh.
Whenever a servant came into the room, Amboyne asked
him if Jael had arrived.
Raby shared his curiosity, but not his anxiety. " The
girl knows her friends," said he. " She will have her cry
out, you may depend; but, after that, she will find her way
here, and, when she has got over it a little, I shall be sure
to learn from her whether he was her lover, and where he



368          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
was when the place was blown up. A Pence never lies to
a Raby."
But, when nine o'clock struck and there were no tidings
of her, Raby began to share the Doctor's uneasiness, and also
to be rather angry and impatient.
" Confound'the girl," said he. "Her grandfathers have
stood by mine, in their danger and trouble, for two hundred
years; and now, in her trouble, she slinks away from me."
"Put yourself in her place," said Amboyne. "Ten to
one she thinks you are offended about her and Henry. She
is afraid to come near you."
"What, when I ask her? "
"Through your stupid lazy servants, who, to save themselves trouble, have very likely told somebody else to tell her;
and we know what comes of that process. Ten to one the
invitation has either missed her altogether, or come to her
divested of all that is kind and soothing. And remember, she is
not a man. She is a poor girl, full of shame and apprehension, and needs a gentle encouraging hand to draw her here.
Do, for once, put yourself in a woman's place,-you were born
of a woman."
" You are right," said Raby. "I will send down a carriage for her, with a line in my own hand."
He did so.
At eleven, the servant came back with the news that Jael
Dence was not at home. She had been seen wandering about
the country, and was believed to be wrong in her head.
George, the blacksmith, and others, were gone up to the
old church after her.
"Turn out with torches, every man jack of you, and find
her," said Raby.
As for Baby and Amboyne, they sat by the fireside, and
conversed together,-principally about poor Mrs. Little; but
the conversation was languid.
A few minutes after midnight, a terrible scream was heard.
It was uttered out of doors, yet it seemed to penetrate the
very room where Raby and Amboyne were seated. Both men
started to their feet. The scream was not repeated. They
looked at each other.
" It was in my garden," said Raby; and, with some little
difficulty, he opened the window, and ran out, followed by
Amboyne.
They looked but could see nothing.



PUT YOURISELF IN HIS PLACE.

869

But, with that death-shriek ringing in their ears, they
wasted no time. Raby waved Amboyne to the left, and himself dashed off to the right, and they scoured the lawn in less
than a minute.
A cry of horror from Raby! He had found the body of a
woman floating in a pool of the river, head downwards.
He dashed into the water directly, and drew it to the
bank: Doctor Amboyne helped him, and they got it out on
dry land. The face was ghastly: the body still.
" Turn her face downwards," said Amboyne, " give her
every chance. Carry her gently."
One took the shoulders, the other the feet; they carried
her slowly in and laid her gently down before the fire.
She lay like dripping marble.
Her clothes clinging tightly round her, revealed her
marvellous form, and limbs of antique mould; but all so
deadly still.
Amboyne kneeled over her, searching, in vain, for some
sign of life. He groaned.
" Oh! " said he, " is it possible that such a creature as this
can be cut off in its prime? "
" Dead! " cried Raby, trembling all over. " Oh, God
forbid! One of her ancestors saved a Raby's life in battle,
another saved a Raby in a foaming flood: and I couldn't save
her in a dead pool! She is the last of that loyal race, and
I'm the last Raby. Farewell Dence! Farewell Raby! "
Whilst he bemoaned her thus, and his tears actually
dripped upon her pale face, Amboyne detected a slight quivering
in the drowned woman's throat.
"Hush! " said he to Raby.
There was a pair of old-fashioned bellows by the side of
the fire; Amboyne seized them, and opened Jael's mouth
with more ease than he expected. "That is a good sign,"
said he.
He inflated the bellows, and inserted the tube very care.
fully; then he discharged the air, then gently sucked it back
again. When he had done this several times, something like
a sigh escaped from Jael's breast. The Doctor removed the
bellows, and felt her heart, and examined her eyes. " Curious! " said he. " Give me some brandy. It is more like
syncope than drowning."
Acting on this notion he laid her flat on her back, and
applied neat brandy to her nostrils and ears.
BB



$70          PUT YOURSELP IN HIS PLACE.
After a while she moved her whole body like a wounded
snake, and moaned feebly.
Raby uttered a loud shout of joy. " She is saved! " he
cried. " She is saved! "  He jumped about the room like a
boy, and anxious to do something or other, was for ringing
up the female servants. But Amboyne would not hear of it.
"On the contrary," said he, "lock the door, and let only
you and I see the poor girl's distress, when she comes back
to this bitter world. Raby, don't you shut your eyes to the
truth. This was no accident."
"I am afraid not," said Raby. "She knows the water
as well as I do; and she picked out the deepest hole; poor
girl! poor girl! "
He then asked Amboyne in a whisper what he thought she
would do, when she came to her senses.
"Impossible to say. She may be violent, and if so, we
shall have enough to do to hold her. They tell me she threw
that workman like a sack."
At this moment Jael stretched her great arms and sighed.
The movement, though gentle and feminine, had a grandeur
and freedom that only goes with power.
The Doctor lowered his voice to a whisper. " She is a
good Christian, and most likely she will be penitent, and then
she will cry her heart out. Any way she is pretty sure to be
hysterical, so mind and be firm as well as kind. There, her
colour is coming back. Now put yourself in her place. You
and I must call this an accident; stick to that through thick
and thin. Ah, she is coming round fast. She shall see you
first. You take her right hand, and look at her with all the
pity and kindness I am sure you feel."
Mr. Raby took Jael's hand in both his, and fixed his
eyes on her with pity and anxiety.
She came to her senses, and stared at him a long time.
Then she looked down at her wet clothes. Then she
snatched her hand away, and covered her face with both
hands, and began to rock and moan, and finally turned round
and hid her face against the very floor, as if she would grovel
and burrow into it.
" Are you better, my dear? " said the Doctor quietly.
No reply. And the face still crushed against the floor.
" The next time you faint away, don't let it be on the
banks of a river. You have been going too long without food;
and you fainted away, and fell into the river. Luckily it was



PUT YOURSELF I N HIS PLiACE".

871

not very deep, or it might have been serious. You have given
us a fine fright, I can tell you."
While these words were being uttered, Jael, who did not
miss a syllable, began to look very, very, slowly round with
scared and troubled eyes, and to defend herself. " I remember
nought," said she, doggedly. "Who took me out?"
" Mr. Raby."
She looked timidly at him, and saw his wet clothes.
"Oh, Squire, why did you spoil your clothes for me? " and
she laid her head on his knee, and began to cry.
" My clothes!" said Raby. "The girl wants to break
mv heart."
"Eh, dear! and I've spoiled the beautiful carpet," said
Jael piteously.
" D-n the carpet! " said Raby, nearly blubbering.
All this time Amboyne was putting himself in Jael Dence's
place.
"Is there a good fire in her room?" asked he, with a
significant look.
Raby took the hint, and said he would go and see.
As soon as he was out of the room, the transmigrator began
to talk very fast to Jael. " Now look here, Jael, that poor
man is alone in the world now, and very sad; he wants you to
keep his house for him: he has been sending messages all day
after you, and your room has been ready ever so long."
"My room in this house?"
"Yes. But we could not find you. However, here you
are. Now you must not go back to the farm. The poor
Squire won't be quite so sad if he sees you about him. You
know he was always fond of you Dences. You should have
seen him cry over you just now, when he thought you were
dead."
" I am more cared for than I thought," said Jael, softly.
"'Yes, but not more than you deserve, my dear." He
dipped a sponge-cake in wine. "Oblige me by eating that."
She took it submissively.
" Now another."
She ate another, and a third.
"It's a very wicked lass you are so good to," said she,
softly, and some gentle tears began to flow.
" Stuff and nonsense! " said the Doctor. " What do you
know about wickedness? I'm a better judge of that than
you, and I say you are the best girl, and the most unselfish
B  2



372          PUT YOURSELp iN H111    PLACE.
girl in the world; and the proof is that, instead of sitting
down and nursing your own griefs, you are going to pluck
up courage, and be a comfort to poor Mr. Raby in his lonely
condition."
These words appeared to sink into Jael's mind: she put
her hands to her head, and pondered them. Perhaps she
might have replied to them, but Raby came down, and ordered
her to her apartment.
She took a step or two in that direction, but presently
drew back and would not move. " The women folk! They'll
see me on the stair, this figure."
" Not they. They are all in bed."
"Are they so?  Then please let me go to the kitchen for
a dry cloth or two."
" What to do?"
"To dry the rug a bit. Just look what a mess I've
made! "
" I'll say it was the dog."
" Will you, though? Oh, but you are a good friend to me
this night. Then I'll go. Let me wring my gown a bit, not
to mess the stairs as well."
" No, no; I'll take all the blame. Will you go, or must
the Doctor and I carry you? "
" Nay, nay, there's no need. Your will is my pleasure,
sir."
So Mr. Raby showed Jael to her room, and opened a great
wardrobe, and took out several armsful of antique female
habiliments, and flung them on the floor: rich velvets, more
or less faded, old brocades, lace scarves, chemises with lace
borders; in short, an accumulation of centuries. He soon
erected a mound of these things in the middle of the floor, and
told her to wear what she liked, but to be sure and air the
things well first; " for," said he, " it is a hundred years or so
since they went on any woman's back. Now, say your prayers
like a good girl, and go to bed."
" Ay," said Jael, solemnly, " I shall say my prayers, you
may be sure."
As he left the room she said, in a sort of patient way,
" Qood Squire, I am willing to live, since you are so lonely.'



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

878

CHAPTER       XXXVI.
EARLY next morning Mr. Raby was disturbed by female voices
in a high key. Ho opened his window quietly, intending to
throw in his bass with startling effect, when, to his surprise, he
found the disputants were his dairymaid and Jael Dence.
" And who are you that interferes with me in my work?
Where do you come from?   Did ye get in over the wall? for
ye never came in at no door. Who are you? "
"I am    one that won't see the good Squire wronged.
Aren't ye ashamed?  What, eat his bread, and take his wage,
and then steal his butter! "
" If ye call me a thief, I'll law ye. Thief yourself! you
don't belong to the house; whose gown have you got on your
back?  Here, James! Tom! here's a strange woman making
off with the Squire's lady's clothes, and two pounds of butter
to boot."
Jael was taken aback for a moment by this audacious
attack, and surveyed her borrowed habiliments with a blush of
confusion. Several servants came about at the noise, and her
situation bade fair to be a very unpleasant one: but Mr. Raby
put in his word: " Hold your tongues, all of ye. Now, Jael
Dence, what is the matter? "
Instantly all eyes were turned up to the window with a
start, and Jael told her tale: " Sir," said she, "I did see this
young woman take out something from under her apron, and
give it to a little girl. I thought there was something amiss,
and I stopped the girl at the gate, and questioned her what she
was carrying off so sly. She gives a squeak and drops it
directly, and takes to her heels. I took it up and brought it
in, and here it is, two beautiful pounds of butter, fresh churned;
look else! "-here she undid a linen wrap, and displayed the
butter-" so I challenged the dairymaid here. She says I'm
a thief,-and that I leave to you, Squire; you know whether
I come of thieves or honest folk; but what I want to know
from her is, why her lass dropped the butter and took to her
heels at a word? "
" Now, my good Jael," said the Squire, " if you are going
to interfere every time you catch my servants pilfering, you
will have a hard time of it. However, zeal is too rare a thing
for me to discourage it. I must make an example. Hy, you
young woman: I daresay you are no worse than the rest, but



874           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
you are the one that is found out; so you must pack up your
clothes, and begone."
" Not without a month's warning, or a month's wage, sir,
if you please," said the dairymaid, pertly.
" If I catch you in the house when I come down, I'll send
you to prison, on my own warrant, with the butter tied round
your neck."
At this direful threat the offender began to blubber, and
speedily disappeared to pack her box.
Mr. Raby then told the other servants that Jael Dence was
the new housekeeper, and that a person of her character was
evidently required in the house; they must all treat her with
respect, or leave his service. Thereupon two gave warning,
and Mr. Raby, who never kept a servant a day after that
servant had given him warning, had them up to his room, and
paid them a month's wages. ("And now," said he, "for the
honour of the house, don't leave us fasting; but eat a good
breakfast, and then go to the devil.")
At his own breakfast he related the incident to Doctor,mboyne, with a characteristic comment: "And the fools say
there is nothing in race. So likely, that of all animals man
alone should be exempt from the law of nature 1    Take a
drowning watch-dog out of the water and put him in a strange
house; he is scarcely dry before he sets to work to protect it.
Take a drowning Dence into your house, and she is up with
the lark to look after your interests. That girl connive and
let the man be robbed whose roof shelters her? She couldn't;
it is not in her blood. I'm afraid there's to be a crusade
against petty larceny in this house, and more row about it
than it is worth. No matter; I shall support the crusader,
on principle. It is not for me to check honest impulses, nor
to fight against nature in almost the only thing where she
commands my respect."
" Very well," said the Doctor, " that is settled: so now
let us talk of something more important. How are we to get
your sister, in her delicate state, from Wales to this place?"
" Why I will go for her myself, to be sure."
"Raby, your heart is in the right place, after all. But,
when she is here, how are we to conceal her unhappy son's
fate from her? It will be more difficult than ever, now Jael
Dence is in the house."
" Why so?   We must take the girl into our confidence;
that is all."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              875
"The sooner the better then.      Let us have her in
here."
Jael was sent for, and Mr. Raby requested her to take a
seat, and give all her attention to something Dr. Amboyne had
to say.
Doctor Amboyne then told her, with quiet earnestness, that
Mrs. Little was at present so ill and weak he felt sure the news
of Henry's death would kill her.
" Ay, poor soul! " said Jael, and began to cry bitterly.
The Doctor held his peace, and cast a disconsolate look on
Raby, as much as to say, " We shall get no efficient aid it
this quarter."
After a little while Jael dried her eyes, and said, " Go on,
sir. I must needs cry before you now and then: 'tisn't to say
I shall ever cry before her."
" Well, then, if we can get her safe to this place, and keep
her in the dark for a few months, I think we may save her life.
Everything else will be in her favour here: her native air,
cherished memories, her brother's love-and, after all, it was
fretting about her quarrel with him that first undermined her
health and spirits.-Well, we shall remove the cause, and then
perhaps the effect may go. But how are we to keep the said
truth from her? "
" Let me think," said Jael Dence. "My head is a deal
clearer since last night."
She leaned her chin upon her hand, and her face and brow
showed signs of intellectual power no one had ever observed in
them before.
" Who is to go for her? " said she at last.
"I am going myself."
" That is a mistake at starting, begging your worship's
pardon. Why, the very sight of you might startle her into
her grave. Nay, you'll give me the money-for mine is all in
the Savings' Bank-and I shall go for her myself. I shall tell
her Squire is longing for her, and that I'm to be here for fear
she might feel strange. She always liked me, poor soul. I
shall get her safe here, you needn't fear for that. But, when
she is here "-the chin rested on the hand again--" well, the
Doctor must forbid visitors. Miss Grace must be told not to
write. Every newspaper must be read before she is allowed to
see it. And, Squire, you will be very kind, to her when you
are in her company,, but we must manage, somehow or other,
so that you can keep out of her way."



876

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

" What for, in heaven's name? "
" Sir we shall have to lie from morn to night; and you
will be a bungler at that, saving your presence. If there's a
servant left in the house who knows, I'd give that servant
a present and part with her before Mrs. Little sets her foot in
the house."
" This sounds very sensible," said Baby. "I am a novice
at lying. But I shall cultivate the art for poor Edith's sake.
I'm not a fanatic: there is justifiable homicide, so why not
justifiable facticide? "
" Raby," said the Doctor, " this young woman has said
enough to show me that she is more fit to conduct this delicate
undertaking than either you or I. Let us profit by the discovery, put our vanity in our pocket, and give her the command.
My dear, you see the importance: you see the difficulty: now
will you undertake it? "
" I will, sir," said Jael, firmly; " and I look to succeed,
God willing. I shall be in Wales this afternoon."
"Well, but would you not be the better yourself for one
day's rest?"
" No, sir. I've learned, with a sad heart, what one day
may bring forth. After that, I'm sworn never to throw away a
day. And, as for sitting down and thinking, 'tis the worst
thing I can do. I do thank God that in this, my own heavy
trouble, I'm not tied to my sad thoughts, but can get about,
and do a little bit of good for Raby House. Do what I will,
'tis but giving them back one pig out of their own farrow; for
we owe them all we have."
With this she retired to prepare for her journey, leaving
both the gentlemen lost in admiration of her simple virtues,
and the clear intelligence she had shown them in few words.
She travelled into Wales that very day, and many a burst
of bitter grief she had all by herself in the train.
At six P.M. she stood before Mrs. Little with a smiling
countenance. Mrs. Little welcomed her with some little pleasure and much surprise.
" Good news, madam," said Jael. "Squire Raby has sent
me to bring you to Raby Hall. He wanted to come himself;
but I would not let him."
" That is good news," said Mrs. Little, languidly. "Now
I shall die at peace with my brother, at peace with all mankind, I hope."
" You'll die when your time comes," said Jael. " But you



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              777
have got a shorter journey before you at present, and that is to
Raby Hall."
" Raby Hall!   I shall never see it again.  I have no
strength to move. I am worn out with the battle of life. Stay
with me here, and close my eyes."
" Of course I shall stay with you," said Jael, and began
to gossip with every appearance of carelessness.
Next morning, with infinite difficulty, she persuaded the
poor jaundiced lady to show ner Aberystwith. She took the
tickets herself, and got her patient halfway to Hillsborough.
Next day, with less difficulty, to Raby Hall. All had been
settled before. Edith Little was shown into her old bedroom,
adorned with pyramids of flowers in her honour; and there she
found a loving line from Guy, begging her pardon for his past
harshness, and telling her she was to send for him as soon as
she felt strong enough to meet.
That evening, brother and sister were clasped in each
other's arms, and wept tears of affection and regret over each
other.
Jael Dence slept on a camp-bed in Mrs. Little's room,
which was very spacious, and watched her, and was always
about her. Under private advice from Doctor Amboyne, she
superiiNtended her patient's diet, and, by soft indomitable
persevorance, compelled her to walk every day, and fight
against her fatal lassitude.
Heaven rewarded her by giving her a warm and tender
affection for her poor patient, that did something to fill hei
own yearning and desolate heart.
Here I must leave them both for the present, and show
how these events affected the main characters of my story,
vol -
CHAPTER XXXVII.
JUST outside the little seaside town of Eastbank is a house,
which, being very old, contrasts agreeably with the pretentious
villas fashion has raised. It is roomy inside, yet outside it
looks like a cottage: low, rambling, gabled, and picturesque.
It stands on a slope just above the sea, and its front garden
runs down almost to the seashore. The aspect is southerly.
'The plaid sea looks like a beautiful lake; for, about two



878          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
miles out, a great tongue of land runs across, and keeps the
tempests out.
SThe cottage itself was now clothed deep with green creepers,
7 and its verandah with jessamine; and the low white walls of
the garden were beautiful with vine-leaves and huge fig-leaves,
that ran up them and about them, and waved over them in
tropical luxuriance. In short, the house was a very bower,
and looked the abode of bliss; and this time last year a young
couple had spent their honeymoon there, and left it with a
sigh. But one place sees many minds; and now this sweet
place was the bed on which drooped the broken lily of this tale,
Grace Garden.
She lay in the warm air of the verandah, and turned her
hollow eyes upon the sea; and every day life crept slowly back
to her young body, but not to her desolate heart.
A brain fever either kills or blunts: and Grace's agony
was blunted. Her mind was in a strange state. She was
beginning to look two things in the face: that the man she
loved was dead; that the man she loved, and had nearly died
for, had loved another as well as herself: and this last grief,
strange to say, was the saving of her. She forgave him with
all her heart, for he was dead; she made excuses for him, for
she loved him; but, since his whole heart had not been hers,
her pride and modesty rebelled against dying for him, and she
resolved to live; she fought hard to live and get well. Finally,
being a very woman, though a noble one, she hated Jael
Dence.
She was not alone in the world. Her danger, her illness,
and her misery, had shown her the treasure of a father's love.
He had found this sweet bower for her, and here he sat for
hours by her side, with his hand in hers, gazing on her with
touching anxiety and affection. Business compelled him to
run into Hillsborough now and then; but he despatched it
with feverish haste, and came back to her; it drove him to
London; but he telegraphed to her twice a day, and was
miserable till he got back. She saw the man of business
turned into a man of love for her, and she felt it. " Ah,
papa," she said one day, " I little thought you loved your poor
Grace so much. You don't love any other child but me, do
you, papa? " and with this question she clung weeping round
his neck.
" My darling child, there's nothing on earth I love but you.
When shall I see you smile again 2 "



PtTT YOURSEL3? IN HI8 PLACES'

879

" In a few years, perhaps. God knows."
One evening-he had been in Hillsborough that day-he
said, " My dear, I have seen an old friend of yours to-day,
Mr. Coventry. He asked very kindly after you."
Grace made no reply.
" He is almost as pale as you are. He has been very ill,
he tells me. And really, I believe it was your illness upset him."
" Poor Mr. Coventry! " said Grace, but with a leaden air
of indifference.
" I hope I didn't do wrong, but when he asked after you so
anxiously, I said, 'Come and see for yourself.' Oh, you need
not look frightened; he is not coming.   He says you are
offended with him."
" Not I. What is Mr. Coventry to me? "
" Well, he thinks so.   He says he was betrayed into
speaking ill to you of some one who, he thought, was living;
and now that weighs upon his conscience."
" I can understand that. I am miserable, but let me try
and be just; papa, Mr. Coventry was trying to comfort me, in
his clumsy way; and what he said he did not invent-he
heard it; and so many people say so, that I-I-oh, papa!
papa "
Mr. Carden dropped the whole subject directly.
However, she returned to it herself, and said, listlessly,
that Mr. Coventry, in her opinion, had shown more generosity
than most people would in his case.    She had no feeling
against him; he was of no more importance, in her eyes, than
that stool, and he might visit her if he pleased, but on one
condition, that he should forget all the past, and never presume to speak to her of love. " Love! Men are all incapable
of it."  She was thinking of Henry, even while she was speaking of his rival.
The permission, thus limited, was conveyed to Mr. Coventry
by his friend Carden; but he showed no hurry to take advantage of it; and, as for Grace, she forgot she had given it.
But this coolness of Coventry's was merely apparent. He
was only waiting the arrival of Patrick Lally from Ireland.
This Lally was an old and confidential servant, who had served
him formerly in many intrigues, and with whom he had parted
reluctantly some months ago, and allowed him a small pension
for past services. He dared not leave the villa in charge of
any person less devoted to him than this Lally.



380

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

The man arrived at last, received minute instructions, and
then Mr. Coventry went to Eastbank.
He found what seemed the ghost of Grace Garden, lying on
the sofa, looking on the sea.
At the sight of her he started back in dismay.
"What have I done? "
Those strange words fell from him before he knew what he
was saying.
Grace heard them, but did not take the trouble to inquire
into their meaning. She said, doggedly, " I am alive, you
see. Nothing kills. It is wonderful: we die of a fall, of a
blow, of swallowing a pin; yet I am alive. But, never mind
me; you look unwell yourself. What is the matter? "
" Can you ask me? "
At this, which implied that her illness was the cause of his,
she turned her head away from him with weariness and disgust,
and looked at the sea, and thought of the dead.
Coventry sat speechless, and eyed her silent figure with
miserable devotion. He was by her side once more, and no
rival near. He set himself to study all her moods, and begin
by being inoffensive to her; in time he might be something
more.
He spent four days in Eastbank, and never uttered a word
of love; but his soft soothing voice was ever in her ear, and
won her attention now and then; not often.
When he left her, she did not ask him to come again,
Her father did though, and told him to be patient; better
Jays were in store. " Give her time," said he, " and a month
or two hence, if you ha7e the same feeling for her you used to
have--"
" I love her more than ever. I worship her- "
" Then you will have me on your side, stronger than ever.
But you must give her time."
And now Coventry had an ally far more powerful than himself, an ally at once zealous and judicious. Mr. (arden contented himself, at first, with praising him in general terms;
next he affected to laugh at him for renting the villa, merely
to be in the place which Grace had occupied. Then Grace
defended him. "Don't laugh at an honest love. Pity it. It
is all we can do; and the least we can do."
But, when he advanced farther, and began to remind his
daughter she had once given this gentleman hopes, and all but
engaged herself to him, she drew back with fear and repug


PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLAOCE.            881
nance, and said, " If he cannot forget that, pray let him never
come near me again."
" Oh," said Mr. Carden, "I believe he has no hopes ol
the kind; it is of you I am thinking, not of him. It has got
about that poor Little had a connection with some girl in
humble life, and that he was in love with her, and you in love
with him. That wounds a father's pride, and makes me grateful
to Coventry for his unshaken devotion, whilst others are sneering
at my poor child for her innocent love."
Grace writhed, and the tears ran down her cheeks at this.
" Oh, spare the dead," she faltered.
Then her father kissed her, and begged her to forgive him;
he would avoid all these topics in "future: and so he did, for
some time; but what he had said rankled.
A few days after this, Coventry came again, and did nothing
but soothe Grace with words; only he managed so that Grace
should detect him looking very sad, when he was not actually
employed in cheering her.
She began to pity him a little, and wonder at his devotion.
HIs had not been gone many hours when another visitor
arrived quite unexpectedly,-Mr. Raby. He came to tell her
his own news, and warn her of the difficult game they were now
playing at Raby Hall, that she might not thwart it inadvertently.
Grace was much agitated, and shed tears of sympathy.
She promised, with a sigh, to hold no communication with
Mrs. Little. She thought it very hard, but she promised.
In the course of his narrative, Mr. Raby spoke very highly
of Jael Dence, and of her conduct in the matter.
To this Grace did not respond. She waited her opportunity and said keenly and coldly, " How did she come to be in
your house? "
" Well, that is a secret."
" Can you not trust me with a secret?"
" Oh yes," said Raby, " provided you will promise faithfully
to tell no one."
Grace promised, and he then told her that Jael Deuce, in a
moment of desperation, had thrown herself into the river at the
back of his house. " Poor girl " said he, " her brain was not
right at the time. Heaven keep us all from those moments of
despair. She has got over it now, and nurses and watches m3
poor sister more like a mother watching her child than a young
woman taking care of an old one. She is the mainspring of
the house."



882          PUT YOURSELF IN IIlS PLACE.
At all this, Grace turned from pale to white, but said
nothing: and Baby ran on in praise of Jael, little dreaming
what pain his words inflicted.
When he left her she rose and walked down to the sea; for
her tortured spirit gave her body energy. Hitherto she found
she had only suspected; now she was sure. Hitherto she had
feared Henry Little had loved Jael Dence a little; now she was
sure he had loved her best.   Jael Dence would not have
attempted self-destruction for any man unless he loved her.
The very act proved her claim to him more eloquently than
words could do. Now she believed all-the anonymous letter
-Mr. Coventry's report-the women's words, who worked in
the same factory, and could not be deceived. And her very
godfather accepted Jael Dence and her claim to sympathy:
she was taken into his house, and set to nurse Henry Little's
mother: poor Grace was slighted on all sides; she must not
even write to Mrs. Little, nor take part in the pious falsehood
they were concocting together, Raby and his Jael Dence,
whom everybody loved best,-everybody except this poor faithful ill-used wretch Frederick Coventry; and him she hated for
loving her better than the man she loved had loved her.
Tender, but very proud, this sensitive creature saw herself
dethroned from her love.  Jael Dence had eclipsed her in
every way; had saved his life with her strong arm, had almost
perished with him; and had tried to kill herself when he was
dead. She was far behind this rival in everything. She had
only loved, and suffered, and nearly died. "No, no," she
said to herself, "she could not love him better than I did:
but he loved her best; and she knew it, and that made her
arm strong to fight, and her heart strong to die for him. I
am nobody; nothing."   Then the scalding tears ran down her
checks.
But soon her pride got the upper hand, and dried her
cheeks, and nearly maddened her.
She began to blush for her love, to blush for her illness.
She rose into that state of exasperation in which persons of her
sex do things they look back upon with wonder, and, strange
to say, all this without one unkind thought of him, whose faults
she saw, but excusede--he was dead.
She now began to struggle visibly, and violently, against
her deadly sorrow. She forced herself to take walks and rides,
and to talk, with nothing to say. She even tried to laugh now
and then. She made violent efforts to be gracious and pitiful



MTt   OUTJSELF IN HIS PLACE.           883
to Mr, Coventry; and the next minute made him suffer for it,
by treating him like a troublesome hound.
He loved her madly, yet, sometimes, he felt tempted to kill
her and end both her torture and his own.
Such was the inner life of Grace Carden for many days;
devoid of striking incident, yet well worthy of study by those
who care to pierce below the surface, and see what passes
in the hearts of the unhappy, and to learn how things come
gradually about, that sound incredible when not so traced; yet
are natural and almost inevitable results of certain conflicting
passions in a virgin heart.
One day Mr. Carden telegraphed from London to Mr.
Coventry at Hillsborough, that he was coming down to Eastbank by the midday express, and would be glad to meet him
there at four o'clock. He also telegraphed to Grace, and said,
"Dinner at five."
Both gentlemen arrived about the same time, a little before
dinner.
Soon after dinner was over, Grace observed a restlessness
in her father's manner, which convinced her he had something
private to say to Mr. Coventry. Her suspicions were aroused:
she fancied he was going to encourage Mr. Coventry to court
her. Instantly the whole woman was in arms, and her love for
the deceased came rushing back tenfold. She rose, soon after
dinner, and retired to the drawing-room; but, as soon as she
got there, she slipped quietly into the verandah, and lay softly
down upon her couch. The dining-room window was open, and
with her quick ears, she could hear nearly every word.
She soon found that all her bitterness and her preparation
for hostilities were wasted. Her father was telling Mr. Coventry the story of Richard Martin; only he carried it a step
farther than I have done.
" Well, sir," said he, "the money had not been paid more
than a month, when an insurance office down at Liverpool communicated with us. The same game had been played with
them; but, somehow, their suspicions were excited. We compared notes with them, and set detectives to work.  They
traced Martin's confederates, and found one of them was in
prison, awaiting his trial for some minor offence. They worked
on him, to tell the truth (I am afraid they compounded), and
he let out the whole truth. Every one of those villains could
swim like ducks, and Richard Martin like a fish. Drowned?



U4          PUT YOURSELF IN tIIS PLACE.
not he: he had floated down to Greenwich or somewhere-the
blackguard; and hid himself. And what do you think the
miscreants did next?  Bought a dead marine; and took him
down in a box to some low public-house by the waterside.
They had a supper, and dressed their marine in Richard
Martin's clothes, and shaved its whiskers, and broke its tooth,
and set it up in a chair, with a table before it, and a pot of
ale, and fastened a pipe in its mouth; and they kept toasting
this ghastly corpse as the thing that was to make all their
fortunes."-At this grotesque and horrible picture, a sigh of
horror was uttered in the verandah. Mr. Garden, occupied
with his narrative, did not hear it, but Coventry did. " Then,
when it was pitch dark, they staggered down to the water with
it, and planted it in the weeds. And, mark the cunning!
when they had gone through their farce of recognizing it publicly for Richard Martin, they brib.ed a churchwarden and
buried it under our very noses: it was all done in a way to
take in the very devil. There's no Richard Martin; there
never was a Richard Martin; there never will be: all this was
contrived and executed by a swindler well known to the police,
only they can't catch him; he is here, and there, and everywhere; they call him ' Shifty Dick.' He and his myrmidons
have bled the ' Gosshawk' to the tune of nine hundred pounds."
He drew his breath, and proceeded more calmly. "However,
a lesson of this kind is never thrown away upon a public man:
and it has given me some very curious ideas about another
matter. You know what I mean."
Coventry stared, and looked quite taken aback by this
sudden turn.
However he stammered out, " I suppose you mean,-but,
really, I can't imagine what similarity-" he paused, and,
inadvertently, his eye glanced uneasily towards the verandah.
" Oh," said Mr. Garden, "these diabolical frauds are not
done upon one pattern, or, of course, there would soon be an
end of their success. But, come now, what proof have we got
that what they found in the river at Hillsborough was the
remains of Henry Little? "
"I don't know, I am sure.  But nobody seems to doubt
it. The situation, the clothes, the ring-so many coincidences."
" That is all very well, if there were no rogues in the
world.  But there are; and I know it to my cost. The
' Gosbhawk' has just lost nine hundred pounds by not sus


P'T rYORtsLt LIN HIS PLACE.            030
pecing. It shall not lose five thousand by the same weakness;
I'l take care of that."
He paused a moment, and then proceeded to argue the
matter:--
" The very idea of an imposture has never occurred to anybody-in Little's case: it did not occur to me, until this business of Shifty Dick enlightened me. But, come now, just
admit the idea of imposture into that honest, unsuspicious
mind of yours, and you'll find the whole thing wears a very
doubtful appearance directly. A common workman-he was
no more at the time-insures his life, for how much? three
hundred pounds? no; five thousand. Within one year after
that he disappears, under cover of an explosion. Some weeks
afterwards-about as many as the Martin swindle-there is
found in the river a fragment of humanity; an arm, and a
hand, and a piece of a human trunk; but no face, mind you:
arms are pretty much alike, faces differ. The fragment is
clad in brown tweed, and Little wore brown tweed: that is all
very well; but the marine was found dressed from head to foot
in Shifty Dick's very clothes. But let us go on. There was
a plain gold ring found on the hand in Hillsborough river, and
my poor daughter had given Little a plain gold ring. But
what was there to hinder an impostor from buying some
pauper's body, and putting a plain gold ring on the hand?
Why, paupers' bodies are constantly sold, and the funeral service gabbled over a coffin full of stones. If I had paper and
ink here, and could put Little's case and Martin's in two
columns, I should soon show you that Martin and his gang
faced and overcame more and greater difficulties in the way of
imposture than any that have been overcome in Little's case,
The Martin gang dealt with the face; here, that is shirked.
The Martin gang planted a body, not a fragment. Does it not
strike you as very odd that the rest of Henry Little is not to
be found?  It may be all right; but, of the two, I incline to
think it is a plant, and that some person, calling himself the
heir or assign of Little, will soon apply to the ' Gosshawk ' for
five thousand pounds. Well, let him. I shall look on that
Sperson as the agent of a living man, not the heir of a dead one;
and I shall tell him I don't believe in arms, and shoulders, and
tweed suits, and plain gold rings-(why, wedding-rings are the
very things conjurors take from the public at random to play
hanky-panky with; they are so like one another). I shall
dbiaaand to see the man's face; and t0- mother who bore him
c



'~6          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
must identify that face, before I will pay one shilling to hig
heirs or assigns. I am waiting to see who will come forward
and claim. Nobody moves; and that is curious. Well, when
they do, I shall be ready for them. You look pale! but no
wonder: it is really no subject for an after-dinner conversation."
Coventry was pale indeed, and his mind all in a whirl as to
what he should say; for Mr. Carden's sagacity terrified him,
and the worst of it was he felt sure that Grace Garden heard
every word.
At last, however, his natural cunning came to his aid, and
he made a very artful speech, directed principally to his unseen
hearer.
"Mr. Garden," said he, " this seems to me very shrewd;
but surely it fails in one respect: you leave the man's character out of the account. Mr. Little came between me and
one I love, and inflicted great misery on me; but I will try
and be just to him. I don't believe he was an impostor of that
kind. He was false in love; he had been reared amongst
workmen, and everybody says he loved a working-girl more
than he did your daughter; but as for his cheating you, or any
other person out of five thousand pounds, I can't believe it.
They all say he was as honest a man, in money matters, as
ever breathed."
" You judge him by yourself.   Besides, men begin by
deceiving women, but they go on to-  Why, Grace, my poor
child-   Good heavens! have you----? "
Grace was leaning against the open window, ghastly and
terrible.
"Yes," said she haughtily, "I have been guilty of the
meanness of listening: and I suffer for it. It is but one pang
more to a broken heart. Mr. Coventry, you are just, you are
generous; and I will try and reward you for those words. No,
papa, no impostor, but a man sore tried, sore tempted. If he
is alive, we shall soon know."
"How? "
" He will write-to Jael Dence.'
Having uttered this strange speech she rushed away with
a wild cry of agony, and nobody saw her face again that night.
She did not come downstairs next day. Mr. Garden went
up to her.  He stayed with her an hour, and came down
looking much dejected; he asked Mr. Coventry to take a turn
in the garden with him.   When they were alone, he said
gravely, " Mr. Coventry, that unfortunate conversation of onur



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              1'T
has quite upset my poor girl.  She tells me now she will not
believe he is dead until months and months have passed without his writing to Jael Dence."
" Well but, sir," said Coventry, " could you not convince
her?"
" How can I, when I am myself convinced he is alive, and
will give us a great deal of trouble yet; for it is clear to me
the poor girl loves him more than she knows? Look here,
Coventry, there's no man I so desire for a son-in-law as yourself; you have shown a patience, a fidelity I-but as a just
man, and a man of honour, I must now advise you to give up
all thoughts of her.  You are not doing yourself justice; she
will never marry you, while that man is alive and unmarried.
I am provoked with her: she will not leave her room while
you are in the house.  Shall I tell you what she said?  ' I
respect him, I admire him, but I can't bear the sight of him
now.' That is all because I let out last night, that I thought
Little was alive. I told her, alive or not, he was dead to her."
"And what did she say to that? "
" Not a word. She wrung her hands and burst out crying
terribly.  Ah! my friend, may you never know what it is to
be a father, and see your child wring her hands, and cry her
heart out, as I have seen mine."
His own tears flowed, and his voice was choked. He
faltered out, "We are two miserable creatures; forgive us,
and leave us to our fate."
Coventry rose, sick at heart, and said, " Tell her I will not
intrude upon her."
He telegraphed to Lally, and went back to Hillsborough as
miserable as those he left behind; but with this difference, he
deserved his misery, deserved it richly.
Ere he had been two days in Hillsborough a telegram came
from him to Mr. Carden," Re Little. Important discovery. Pray come here at once."
Mr. Carden had the prudence to withhold from Grace the
nature of this communication.  He merely told her, business
called him suddenly to Hillsborough. He started by the next
train, and found Mr. Coventry waiting for him at " Woodbine
Villa," with strange news: it was not conjecture, nor a matter
of deduction, but a piece of undeniable evidence; and it
knocked both Mr. Carden's theory and his daughter's to atoms,
at one blow.



888

PUT YOtUiSL M ~ HIS PLACA

CHAPTER       XXXVIII.
MEANTIME the history of Raby House was the history of what
French dramatists call "a pious lie."
Its indirect effect in keeping Grace Carden apart both from
Mrs. Little and Jael Dence was unforeseen and disastrous; its
immediate and direct effect on Mrs. Little was encouraging to
those concerned: what with the reconciliation to her brother,
the return to native air and beloved scenes, the tenderness
and firmness of Jael Dence, and the conviction that her son
was safe out of the clutches of the dreaded unions, she picked
up flesh and colour and spirit weekly.
By-and-by she turned round upon Jael Dence, and the
nurse became the pupil.  Mrs. Little taught her grammar,
pronunciation, dancing, carriage and deportment. Jael could
already sing from notes; Mrs. Little taught her to accompany
herself on the pianoforte.  The teacher was so vigilant, and
the pupil so apt and attentive, that surprising progress was
made. To be sure they were together night and day.
This labour of love occupied Mrs. Little's mind agreeably,
and, as the pupil was equally resolute in making the teacher
walk, or ride on horseback with her every day, the hours
glided swiftly, and, to Mrs. Little, pleasantly.
Her brother rather avoided her, by order of Jael Dencc;
but so many probable reasons were given for his absences, that
she suspected nothing. Only she said one day, " What a
gad-about he is now. This comes of not marrying. We must
find him a wife."
When he was at home they breakfasted together, all three,
and then Mrs. Little sometimes spoke of Henry, and so hopefully and cheerfully, that a great qualm ran through her
hearers, and Raby, who could not command his features so
well as Jael could, looked gloomy, and sometimes retired behind
his newspaper.
Mrs. Little observed this one day and pointed it out to
Jael. " Oh," said Jael, "take no notice.   You know he
wanted Mr. Henry to stay quietly here and be his heir."
"And so did I. But his very name seems to--"
"He likes him well for all that, ma'am; only he won't
own it yet. You know what Squire is."
" The Squire you should say, dear.  But' Mr. Raby' is



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACEI.            'd
better still. As a rule, avoid all small titles: the Doctor, the
Squire, the Baronet, the Mayor."
Jael seized this handle, and, by patting questions to her
teacher, got her away from the dangerous topic.
Ever on the watch, and occupied in many ways with
Mrs. Little, Jael began to recover resignation; but this could
not be without an occasional paroxysm of grief.
These she managed to hide from Mrs. Little.
But one day that lady surprised her crying. She stood
and looked at her a moment, then sat down quietly beside hei
and took her hand. Jael started and feared discovery.
" My child," said Mrs. Little, " if you have lost a father
you have gained a mother; and then, as to your sister, why
my fHeury is gone to the very same country; yet, you see, I
lo not give way to sorrow.  As soon as he writes, I will beg
aim to make inquiries for Patty, and send them home if they
are not doing well." Then Mrs. Little kissed Jael, and coaxed
her and rocked with her, and Jael's tears began to flow, no
longer for her own great grief, but for this mother, who was
innocently consoling her, unconscious of the blow that mx.st
one day fall upon herself.
So matters went on pretty smoothly; only one morning,
speaking of Henry, Mrs. Little surprised a look of secret intelligence between her brother and Jael Dence. She made no
remark at the time, but she puzzled in secret over it, and
began at last to watch the pair.
She asked Raby at dinner one day, when she might hope
to hear from Henry.
"I don't know," said he, and looked at Jael Dence, like a
person watching for orders.
Mrs. Little observed this, and turned keenly round to Jael.
" Oh," said Jael, "the Doctor-I beg pardon, Doctor
Amboyne-can tell you that better than I can. It is a long
way to Australia."
" How you send me from one to another," said Mrs. Little,
speaking very slowly.
They made no reply to that, and Mrs. Little said nt more.
But she pondered all this. She wrote to Doctor Amboyne,
and asked him why no letter had come from Henry.
Doctor Amboyne wrote back that, even if he had gone in a
steamboat, there was hardly time for a letter to come back; but
he had gone in a sailing vessel. " Give him three months and a
half to get th3re, and two months for his letters to come back."



UYU          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
In this same letter he told her he was glad to hear she was
renewing her youth like an eagle, but reminded her it would
entail some consequences more agreeable to him than to her.
She laid down the letter with a blush and fell into a reverie.
Doctor Amboyne followed up this letter with a visit or two,
and urged her to keep her promise and marry him.
She had no excuse for declining; but she procrastinated;
she did not like to marry without consulting Henry, or, at
least, telling him by letter.
And whilst she was thus temporizing, events took place at
Eastbank which ended by rudely disturbing the pious falsehood
at Raby Hall.
That sequence of events began with the interview between
Mr. Carden and Mr. Coventry at " Woodbine Villa."
"Little had made a will: My own solicitor drew it, and
holds it at this moment." This was the intelligence Coventry
had to communicate.
" Very well; then now I shall know who is coming to the
'Gosshawk' for the five thousand pounds. That will be the
next act of the comedy, you will see."
"Wait a moment. He leaves to Mrs. Little his own
reversion to a sum of nineteen hundred pounds; in which she
has already the life-interest: he gives a hundred pounds to his
sweetheart Dence: all the rest of his estate, in possession, or
expectation, he bequeaths to- Miss Garden."
" Good heavens!-Why then--"        Mr. Garden could
say no more, for astonishment.
" So," said Coventry, " if he is alive, she is the confederate who is to profit by the fraud; those five thousand
pounds belong to her at this moment."
" Are you sure?  Who is your authority? "
"A communicative clerk, who happens to be the son of a
tenant of mine. The solicitor himself, I believe, chooses to
doubt his client's decease. It is at his private request that
horrible object is refused Christian burial."
"On what grounds, pray? "
"Legal grounds, I suppose; the man did not die regularly,
and according to precedent. He omitted to provide himsell
with two witnesses previously to being blown up. In a case of
this kind we may safely put an old-fashioned attorney's opinion
out of the question. What do you think?  That is all I care
to know."
" I don't know what to think now. But I foresee Qon



PUT YOUIRSELF IN IllS PLACE.

891

thing: I shall be placed in rather an awkward position. I
ought to defend the ' Gosshawk;' but I am not going to rob
my own daughter of five thousand pounds, if it belongs to her
honestly."
SWill you permit me to advise you?"
"Certainly, I shall be very much obliged; for really I
don't see my way."
"Well, then, I think you ought to look into the matter
carefully, but without prejudice. I have made some inquiries
myself; I went down to the works, and begged the workmen,
who knew Little, to examine the remains, and then come here
and tell us their real opinion."
" Oh, to my mind, it all depends on the will. If that
answers the description you give-Hum!"
Next morning they breakfasted together, and, during breakfast, two workmen called, and, at Coventry's request, were
ushered into the room. They came to say they knew Mr. Little
well, and felt sure that was his dead hand they had seen at the
Town Hall. Coventry cross-examined them severely, but they
stuck to their conviction; and this will hardly surprise the
reader when I tell him the workmen in question were Cole and
another, suborned by Coventry himself, to go through this
performance.
Mr. Garden received the testimony readily, for the best of
all reasons-he wanted to believe it.
But, when they were gone, he recurred to the difficulty of
his position. Director of the " Gosshawk," and father to a
young lady who had a claim of five thousand pounds on it,
and that claim debateable, though, to his own mind, no longer
doubtful.
Now Mr. Coventry had a great advantage over Mr. Garden
here: he had studied this very situation profoundly for several
hours; and at last had seen how much might be done with it.
He began by artfully complimenting Mr. Garden on his
delicacy, but said Miss Garden must not be a loser by it.
" Convince her, on other grounds, that the man is dead;
encourage her to reward my devotion with her hand, and I will
relieve you of everything disagreeable.  Let us settle on
Miss Garden, for her separate use, the five thousand pounds,
and anything else derivable from Mr. Little's estate; but we
must also settle my farm of Hindhope; for it shall never be
said she took as much from that man as she did from me.
Well, in due course I apply to the ' Gosshawk' for my wife's



892

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

money. I am not bound to tell your Company it is not mine
but hers: that is between you and me. But you really ought
to write tB London at once and withdraw the charge of fraud;
you owe that piece of justice to Miss Garden, and to the
memory of the deceased."
" That is true; and it will pave the way for the demand
you propose to make on Mrs. Coventry's behalf. Well, you
really are a true friend, as well as a true lover."
In short, he went back to Hillsborough resolved to marry
his daughter to Coventry as soon as possible. Still following
that gentleman's instructions, he withheld from Grace that
Little had made a will in her favour. He knew her to be quite
capable of refusing to touch a farthing of it, or to act as
executrix. But he told her the workmen had identified the
remains, and that other circumstances had also convinced him
he had been unjust to a deceased person, which he regretted.
When her father thus retracted his own words, away went
Grace's last faint hope that Henry lived; and now she must
die for him, or live for others.
She thought of Jael Dence, and chose the latter.
Another burst or two of agony, and then her great aim and
study appeared to be to forget herself altogether. She was full
of attention for her father, and, whenever Mr. Coventry came,
she laboured to reward him with kind words, and even with
smiles; but they were sad ones.
As for Coventry, he saw, with secret exultation, that she
was now too languid and hopeless to resist the joint efforts of
her father and himself, and that, some day or other, she must
fall lifeless into his arms.
He said to himself, " It is only a question of time."
He was now oftener at the villa than at Hillsborough, and,
with remarkable self-denial, adhered steadily to the line of
soothing and unobtrusive devotion.
One morning at breakfast the post brought him a large
envelope from Hillsborough. He examined it, and found a
capital  L " in the corner of the envelope, which " L " was
written by his man Lally, in compliance with secret instructions
from his master.
Coventry instantly put the envelope into his pocket, and
his hand began to shake so that he could hardly hold his cup
to his lips. His agitation, however, was not noticed.
Directly after breakfast he strolled, with affected composure,
into the garden, and sat down in a bower where lie was safe



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

893

from surprise, as the tangled leaves were not so thick but he
could peep through them.
He undid his enclosure, and found three letters; two were
of no importance; the third bore a foreign postmark, and was
addressed to Miss Carden in a handwriting, which he recognized at a glance as Henry Little's.
But, as this was not the first letter from Henry to Grace,
which he had intercepted and read, perhaps I had better begin
by saying a few words about the first.
Well, then, the letters with which Coventry swam the river
on the night of the explosion were six, viz. to Mr. Bolt, to
Doctor Amboyne, to Mr. Bayne, to Jael Dence, to Mrs. Little,
and to Grace Carden. The letter to Grace Carden was short,
but touching, full of devotion, hope, resolution, and grief at
parting. He told her he had come to take leave that afternoon,
but she had been out, luckily; for he felt he ought to go, and
must go, but how could he look at her and then leave her?
This was the general purport, and expressed with such anguish
and fortitude as might have melted a heart of marble.
The reader may have observed that, upon his rival's disappearance, Coventry was no happier. This letter was the
secret cause. First, it showed him his rival was alive, and he
had wasted a crime; secondly, it struck him with remorse, yet
not with penitence; and to be full of remorse, yet empty of
that true penitence which confesses or undoes the wrong, this
is to be miserable.
But, as time rolled on, bringing the various events I have
related, but no news of Little, Coventry began to think that
young man must really have come to some untimely end.
From this pleasant dream he was now awakened by this
second intercepted letter. It ran thus: MY OWN DEAR LOVE,-             " Boston, U. S., June 20th.
" IT is now nine weeks since I left England, and this will
be a fortnight more getting to you; that is a long time for you
to be without news from me, and I sadly fear I have caused
you great anxiety. Dearest, it all happened thus. Our train
was delayed by an accident, and I reached Liverpool just in
time to see the steam-packet move down the Mersey. My first
impulse, of course, was to go back to Hillsborough; but a
seaman, who saw my vexation, told me a fast schooner was on
the point of sailing for Boston, U. S. My heart told me if I
went back to Hillsborough, I sl-h! ld never make the start



394          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLAJ6.
again. I summoned all my manhood to do the right thing for
us both; and I got into the schooner, heaven knows how:
and, when I got there, I hid my face for ever so many hours,
till, by the pitching and tossing, I knew that I was at sea.
Then I began to cry and blubber. I couldn't hold it any
longer.
"At such a time a kind word keeps the heart from
breaking altogether; and I got some comfort from an old
gentleman, a native of Boston: a grave old man he was, and
pretty reserved with all the rest; but, seeing me in the depths
of misery, he talked to me like a father, and I told him all my
own history, and a little about you too-at least, how I loved
you, and why I had left England with a heavy heart.
" We had a very long passage, not downright tempestuous,
but contrary winds, and a stiff gale or two. Instead of twenty
days, as they promised, we were six weeks at sea, and what
with all the fighting and the threats-I had another letter
signed with a coffin just before I left that beautiful town-and
the irritation at losing so much time on the ocean, it all
brought on a fever, and I have no recollection of leaving the
boat. When I came to myself, I was in a house near
Boston, belonging to the old gentleman I spoke of. He and
his nieces nursed me, and now I am as well as ever, only
rather weak.
" Mr. Ironside, that is his name, but it should be Mr.
Goldheart, if I had the christening of him, he has been my
good Samaritan. Dear Grace, please pray for him and his
family every night. He tells me he comes of the pilgrim
fathers, so he is bound to feel for pilgrims and wanderers from
home. Well, he has been in patents a little, and, before I
lost my little wits with the fever, he and I had many a talk.
So now he is sketching out a plan of operation for me; and I
shall have to travel many a hundred miles in this vast country.
But they won't let me move till I am a little stronger, he and
his nieces. If he is gold, they are pearls.
" Dearest, it has taken me two days to write this; but I
am very happy and hopeful, and do not regret coming. I am
sure it was the right thing for us both.
" Please say something kind for me to the good doctor,
and tell him I have got over this one trouble already.
" Dearest, I agreed to take so much a year from Bolt, and
he must fight the trades alone; such a life is not worth
having; Bayne won't wrong:Te of a shilling; whatever he



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             895
makes, over his salary and the men's wages, there it will be
for me, when I come home; so I write to no one at Hillsborough but you; indeed, you are my all in this world; I
travel, and fight, and work, and breathe, and live for you, my
own beloved, and if any harm came to you, I wouldn't care to
live another moment."
At this point in the letter, the reader stopped, and something cold seemed to pass all through his frame. It struck
him that all good men would pity the writer of this letter, and
abhor him who kept it from   that pale, heart-broken girl
inside the cottage.
He sat freezing, with the letter in his hand, and began to
doubt whether he could wade any deeper in crime.
After a minute or two he raised his head, and was about to
finish reading the letter.
But, in the meantime, Grace Carden had resumed her
accustomed place in the verandah. She lay upon the couch,
and her pale face, and hollow, but still beautiful eyes, were
turned seaward. Out of those great sad eyes, the sad soul
looked across the waste of waters,-gazed, and searched, and
pined in vain. Oh, it was a look to make angels weep, and
hover close over her head with restless, loving pinions, longing
to shadow, caress, and heal her.
Coventry, with Henry Little's letter in his hand, peered
through the leaves, and saw the woman he loved fix this look
of despair upon the sea,-despair, of which he was the sole
cause, and could dispel it with a gesture.
"And this brings me back to what is my only great
trouble now. I told you, in the letter I left behind me, you
would hear from me in a month at farthest. It will be not a
month but eleven weeks. Good heavens! when I think what
anxiety you may have suffered on my account! You know I
am a pupil of the good Doctor, and so I put myself in your
place, and I say to myself, 'If my Grace had promised to
write in a month, and eleven weeks had passed without a
word, what would my feelings be? ' Why, I think I should
go mad; I should make sure you were ill; I should fear you
were dead; I should fancy every terrible thing on earth,
except that you were false to your poor Henry. That I should
never fear; I judge you by myself. Fly steamboat with this
letter to my love, and set her mind at ease. Fly back with a



596           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
precious word from her dear hand, and, with that in my
bosom, nothing will ever daunt me.
" God bless you! Angel of my life, darling of my heart,
star on which all my hopes are fixed! Oh, what miserable
bad tools words are! When I look at them, and compare
them with how I love you, I seem to be writing that I love you
no more than other people love. What I feel is so much
greater than words.
" Must I say farewell? Even on paper, it is like tearing
myself away from heaven again. But that was to be: and now
this is to be. Good-by, my own beloved.
" Yours till death,
" HENRY."
Coventry read this, sentence by sentence, still looking up,
nearly every sentence, at her, to whom it was addressed.
The letter pleaded on his knee, the pale face pleaded a few
yards off; he sat between the two bleeding lovers, their sole
barrier and bane.
His heart began to fail him. The mountain of crime
looked high. Now remorse stung him deeper than -ever;
jealousy spurred him harder than ever; a storm arose within
his breast, a tempest of conflicting passion, as grand and wild
as ever distracted the heart; as grand and wild as any poet
has ever tried to describe, and, half succeeding, won immortal
fame.
" See what I can do!" whispered conscience. " With one
bound I can give her the letter, and bring the colour back to
that cheek and joy to that heart. She will adore me for it, she
will be my true and tender friend till death.  She will weep
upon my neck and bless me."
"Ay," whispered jealousy, "and then she will marry
Henry Little."
" And am I sure to succeed if I persist in crime? Deserve
her hatred and contempt, and is it certain they will not both
fall on me? "
* The fault began with them. He supplanted me-she
jilted me. I hate him-I love her. I can't give her up now;
I have gone too far. What is intercepting a letter?  I have'
been too near murder to stop at that."
"But her pale face! her pale face!"
"Once married, supplant him as he has supplanted you.
4way to Italy with her.  Fresh scenes-constant love-the



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

897

Joys of wedlock! What will this Henry Little be to her then 2
-a dream."
" Eternal punishment! if it is not a fable, who has ever
earned it better than I am earning it if I go on? "
"It is a fable; it must be. Philosophers always said so,
and now even divines have given it up."
" Her pale face! her pale face! Never mind him, look at
het. What sort of love is this that shows no pity! Oh, my
poor girl, don't look so sad-so pale! What shall I do?
Would to God I had never been born, to torture myself
and her."
His good angel fought hard for him that day; fought and
struggled and hoped, until the miserable man, torn this way
and that, ended the struggle with a blasphemous yell by tearing
the letter to atoms.
That fatal act turned the scale.
The next moment he wished he had not done it.
But it was too late. He could not go to her with the fragments. She would see he had intercepted it purposely.
Well, all the better. It was decided. He would not look
at her face any more. He could not bear it.
He rushed away from the bower and made for the seaside;
but he soon returned another way, gained his own room, and
there burnt the fragments of the letter to ashes.
But, though he was impenitent, remorse was not subdued.
He could not look Grace Carden in the face now. So he sent
word he must go back to Hillsborough directly.
He packed his bag and went downstairs with it.
On the last landing he met Grace Garden. She started a
little.
" What! going away? "
"Yes, Miss Carden."
"No bad news, I hope," said she, kindly.
The kindly tone coming from her, to whom he had shown
no mercy, went through that obdurate heart.
"No-no," he faltered; " but the sight of your unhappiness-- 'Let me go. I am a miserable man."
And with this he actually burst out crying and ran past her.
Grace told her father, and asked him to find out what was
the matter with Mr. Coventry.
Mr. Carden followed Coventry to the station, and Coventry,
who had now recovered his self-possession and his cunning,
told him that for some time Miss Garden had worn a cheerful



898          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACe,
air, which had given him hopes; but this morning, watching
her from a bower in the garden, he had seen such misery in her
face that it had quite upset him; and he was going away to
4y and recover that composure, without which he felt he would
be no use to her in any way.
This tale Garden brought back to his daughter and she was
touched by it. "Poor Mr. Coventry," said she. " Why does
he waste so much love on me? "
Her father, finding her thus softened, pleaded hard for his
friend, and reminded Grace that she had not used him well.
She admitted that at once, and went so far as to say that she
felt bound never to marry any one but Mr. Coventry, unless
time should cure him, as she hoped it would, of his unfortunate
attachment.
From this concession Mr. Garden urged her daily to another,
viz. that Mr. Coventry might be permitted to try and win her
affection.
Her answer was, " He had much better content himself
with what I can and do give him: my esteem and gratitude
and sincere pity."
Mr. Garden, however, persisted, and the deep affection he
had shown his daughter gave him great power. It was two
against one: and the two prevailed.
Mr. Coventry began to spend his whole time at Eastbank
Cottage.
He followed Grace about with a devotion to which no female
heart could be entirely insensible; and, at last, she got used to
him, and rather liked to have him about her. He broke her
solitude as a dog does, and he fetched and carried for her, and
talked when she was inclined to listen, and was silent when ho
saw his voice jarred upon her bereaved heart.
Without her father, matters might have gone on so for
years: but Mr. Garden had now so many motives for marrying
his daughter to Coventry, that he used all his judgment and all
his influence. He worked on his daughter's pride, her affection, her sense of honour, and her sense of duty.
She struggled, she sighed, she wept; but, by" little and
little, she submitted. And, since three months more passed
with no striking event, I will deviate from my usual custom and
speak a little of what passed in her mind.
First of all, then, she was so completely deceived by
appearances, that she believed the exact opposite,of the truth
in each particular. To her not only did black seem white, but



PUT YOUhRSELiF 1N HIS?LACII

899

white black. Her dead lover had given her but half his.heart.
Her living lover was the soul of honour and true devotion. It
was her duty, though not her pleasure, to try and love him; to
marry him would be a good and self-denying action.
And what could she lose by it? Her own chance of happiness was gone. All she could hope for hereafter was the gentle
satisfaction that arises from making others happy. She had
but a choice of evils: never to marry at all, or to marry
Frederick Coventry.
Thus far she was conscious of her own feelings, and could,
perhaps, have put them into words; but here she drifted out of
her depth.
Nature implants in women a genuine love of offspring that
governs them   unconsciously.  It governs the unconscious
child; it governs the half-conscious mother who comes home
from the toyshop with a waxen child for her girl, and a drum
for her boy.
Men desire offspring-when they desire it at all-from
vanity alone. Women desire it from pure love of it.
This instinct had probably its share in withholding Grace
from making up her mind never to marry; and so operated
negatively, though not positively, in Coventry's favour.
And so, by degrees and in course of time, after saying
"no " a dozen times, she said " yes " once in a moment of
utter lassitude, and afterwards she cried and wished to withdraw her consent, but they were two to one, and had right on
their side she thought.
They got her to say she would marry him some day or
other.
Coventry intercepted several letters, but he took care not
to read them with Grace's sad face in sight. He would not
give conscience such a power to torment him. The earlier
letters gave him a cruel satisfaction. They were written each
from a different city in the United States, and all tended to
show that the writer had a year or two to travel yet, before he
could hope to return home in triumph and marry his Grace.
In all these letters she was requested to send her answers
to New York, (and, now I think of it, there was a postscript to
that effect in the very letter I have given in extenso.)
But at last came a letter that disturbed this delightful
dream.   It was written from the western extremity of the
States, but the writer was in high spirits; he had sold his



400

PUT YOURSELF IN IS PLACE,

patents in two great cities, and had established them in two
more on a royalty; he had also met with an unexpected piece
of good fortune: his railway clip had been appreciated, a man
of large capital and enterprise had taken it up with spirit, and
was about to purchase the American and Canadian right for a
large sum down and a percentage. As soon as this contract
should be signed he should come home and claim Mr. Carden's
promise. He complained a little that he got no letters, but
concluded the post-office authorities were in fault, for he had
written to New York to have them forwarded; however, he
should soon be in that city and revel in them.
This troubled Coventry, and drove him to extremities. He
went on his knees to Grace, and implored her to name the
day.
She drew back with horror and repugnance; said, with a
burst of tears, she was a widow, and would not marry till a
decent time had elapsed since-; then, with sudden doggedness, "I will never marry at all."
And so she left him to repent his precipitation.
He was at his wit's end, and could do nothing but look uil
happy, and temporize, and hope the wind might change.
The wind did not change, and he passed a week or two of
outward sorrow, but inward rage.
He fell ill, and Mr. Carden pitied him openly.
Grace maintained a sullen silence.
One day, as he was in bed, an envelope was brought him,
-with a large " L."  He opened it slowly, fearing the worst.
The letter was full of love, and joy, and triumph, that
made the reader's heart faint within him, till he came to this
sentence:" The gentleman who treats with me for the railway clip,
makes it an express stipulation that I shall spend a month in
his works at Chicago, superintending the forging and perfecting
of the clip. As he intends to be there himself, and to buy it
out and out if it answers his expectations, I shall certainly go,
and wear a smith's apron once more for your sake. He is
even half inclined to go into another of my projects-the
forging of large axes by machinery.  It was tried at Hillsborough two years ago, but the Union sent a bullet through
the manufacturer's hat, and he dropped it."
The letter, from which I give this extract, was a reprieve.
Lie had five or six weeks before him st1ll.



PUT YOURSELF IS HIS PLACE.

401

Soon after this, his faithful ally, Mr. Carden, worked on
Grace's pity; and, as Coventry never complained, nor irritated
her in any way, she softened to him. Then all the battery
of imploring looks was brought to bear on her by Coventry,
and of kind admonition and entreaty by her father; and so,
between them, they gently thrust her down the slope.
" Stop all their tongues," said Mr. Carden. "Come back
to Hillsborough a wife. I gave up my choice to yours once,
Now give me my way. I am touched to the heart by this
young man's devotion: he invites me to live with him when
you are married. What other young fellow would show me so
much mercy? "
" Does he? " said Grace. "I will try and reward him for
that, and for speaking well of one who could not defend himself.
But give me a little time."
Mr. Carden conveyed this to Coventry with delight, and
told him he should only have another month or so to wait.
Coventry received this at first with unmixed exultation, but by
and by he began to feel superstitious.  Matters were now
drawing to such a point that Little might very well arrive
before the wedding-day, and just before it. Perhaps heaven
had that punishment in store for him; the cup was to be in
his very grasp, and then struck out of it.
Only a question of time! But what is every race?  The
space between winner and loser strikes the senses more obviously; but the race is just as much a question of time as
of space. Buridan runs second for the Derby, defeated by a
length. But give Buridan a start of one second, and he shall
beat the winner-by two lengths.
Little now wrote from Chicago that everything v'as going
on favourably, and he believed it would end in a sale of the
patent clip in the United States and Canada for 50,000
dollars, but no royalty.
This letter was much shorter than any of the others; and,
from that alone, his guilty reader could see that the writer
intended to follow it in person almost immediately.
Coventry began almost to watch the sun in his course.
When it was morning he wished it was evening, and when it
was evening he wished it was morning.
Sometimes he half wondered to see how calmly the sun rose
and set, and Nature pursued her course, whilst he writhed in
the agony of suspense, and would gladly have given a year out
of his life for a day.
D)n



WUM          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
At last, by Mr. Carden's influence, the wedding-day was
fixed. But soon after this great triumph came another intercepted letter. He went to his room, and his hands trembled
violently as he opened it.
His eye soon fixed on this passage:" I thought to be in New York by this time, and looking
homewards; but I am detained by another piece of good fortune, if anything can be called good fortune that keeps me a
day from you. Oh, my dear Grace, I am dying to see your
handwriting at New York, and then fly home and see your dear
self, and never, never quit you more. I have been wonderfully
lucky; I have made my fortune, our fortune. But it hardly
pays me for losing the sight of you so many months. But
what I was going to tell you is that my method of forging large
axes by machinery is wonderfully praised, and a great firm
takes it up on fair terms. This firm has branches in various
parts of the world, and, once my machines are in full work,
Hillsborough will never forge another axe. Man cannot suppress machinery; the world is too big.   That bullet sent
through Mr. Tyler's hat loses Great Britain a whole trade. I
profit in money by their short-sighted violence, but I must
pay the price; for this will keep me another week at Chicago,
perhaps ten days. Then home I come, with lots of money
to please your father, and an ocean of love for you, who
don't care about the filthy dross; no more do I, except as
the paving-stones on the road to you and heaven, my adored
one."
The effect of this letter was prodigious. So fearful had
been the suspense, so great was now the relief, that Coventry
felt exultant, buoyant. He went down to the seaside, and
walked, light as air, by the sands, and his brain teemed with
delightful schemes. Little would come to Hillsborough soon
after the marriage; but what of that?  On the wedding-night
he would be at Dover. Next day at Paris, on his way to
Rome, Athens, Constantinople.    The inevitable exposure
should never reach his wife until he had so won her, soul and
body, that she should adore him for the crimes he had committed to win her,-he knew the female heart to be capable
of that.
He came back from his walk another man, colour in hib
sheek, and fire in his eye.
He walked into the drawing-room, and found Mr. Itaby,



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

408

with his hat on, just leav;ng Grace, whose eyes showed signs
of weeping.
"I wish you joy, sir," said Raby. "I am to have the
honour of being at your wedding."
" It will add to my happiness, if possible," said Coventry.
To be as polite in deed as in word, he saw Mr. Raby into
the fly.
" Curious creatures these girls," said Raby, shrugging
his shoulders.
" She was engaged to me long ago," said Coventry, parrying
the blow.
" Ah! I forgot that. Still-well, well; I wish you joy."
He went off, and Coventry returned to Grace. She was
seated by the window, looking at the sea.
"What did Godpapa say to you? "
" Oh, he congratulated me. He reminded me you and I
were first engaged at his house."
"Did he tell you it is to be at Woodbine Villa? "
"What?"
"The wedding."   And Grace blushed to the forehead at
having to mention it.
"No, indeed, he did not mention any such thing, or I
should have shown him how unadvisable---"
" You mistake me. It is I who wish to be married from my
father's house, by good old Doctor Fynes. He married my
parents, and he christened me, and now he phall marry me."
" I approve that, of course, since you wish it; but my
own dearest Grace, Woodbine Villa is associated with so many
painful memories-let me advise, let me earnestly entreat you,
not to select it as the place to be married from. Dr. Fynes
can be invited here."
" I have set my heart on it," said Grace. "Pray do not
thwart me in it."
" I should be very sorry to thwart you in anything. But,
before you finally decide, pray let me try and convince your
better judgment."
' I have decided; and I have written to Doctor Fynes,
and to the few persons I mean to invite; they can't all come
hero; and I have asked Mr. Raby; and it is my own desire;
and it is one of those things the lady and her family always
decide. I have no wish to be married at all. I only marry
to please my father and you. There, let us say no more about
it, please. I will not be married at Woodbine Villa, nor



404

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

anywhere else. I wish papa and you would show your love by
burying me instead."
These words, and the wild and panting way they were
uttered in, brought, Coventry to his knees in a moment. He
promised her, with abject submission, that she should have
her own way in this and everything. He petted her, and
soothed her, and she forgave him, but so little graciously, that
he saw she would fly out in a moment again, if the least
attempt were made to shake her resolution.
Grace talked the matter over with Mr. Carden, and that
same evening he begged Coventry to leave the Villa as soon
as he conveniently could, for he and his daughter must be
there a week before the wedding, and invite some relations,
whom it was his interest to treat with respect.
"You will spare me a corner?" said Coventry, in his
most insinuating tone. " Dear Woodbine! I could not bear
to leave it."
" Oh, of course you can stay there till we actually come;
but we can't have the bride and bridegroom under one roof.
Why, my dear fellow, you know better than that."
There was no help for it. It sickened him with fears
of what might happen in those few fatal days, during which
Mr. Carden, Grace herself, and a household over which he
had no control, would occupy the house, and would receive the
postman, whose very face showed him incorruptible.
He stayed till the last moment; stopped a letter of five
lines from Little, in which he said he should be in New York
very soon, en route for England; and the very next day he
received the Cardens, with a smiling countenance, and a
fainting heart, and then vacated the premises. He ordered
Lally to hang about the Villa at certain hours when the post
came in, and do his best. But this was catching at a straw.
His real hope was that neither Little himself, nor a letter in
his handwriting, might come in that short interval.
It wanted but five days to the wedding.
Hitherto, it had been a game of skill,-now it was a game
of chance; and every morning he wished it was evening,
every evening he wished it was morning.
The day Raby came back from    Fastbank, he dined at
home, and, in an unguarded moment, said something or other,
on which Mrs. Little cross-examined him so swiftly and so
keenly, that he stammered, and let out Grace Carden was OP
the point of marriage.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

405

" Marriage, while my son is alive I " said Mrs. Little, and
looked from him to Jael Dence, at first with amazement, and
afterwards with a strange expression, that showed her mind
was working.
A sort of vague alarm fell upon the other two; and they
waited, in utter confusion, for what might follow.
But the mother was not ready to suspect so horrible a
thing as her son's death. She took a more obvious view, and
inveighed bitterly against Grace Carden.
She questioned Raby as to the cause; but it was Jael who
answered her. " I believe nobody knows the rights of it, but
Miss Carden herself."
" The cause is her utter fickleness: but she never really
loved him. My poor Henry! "
"Oh yes, she did," said Raby. "She was at death's
door a few months ago."
" At death's door for one man, and now going to marry
another!"
"Why not?' said Raby, hard pushed; " she is a
woman."
"And why did you not tell me till now? " asked Mrs.
Little, loftily ignoring her brother's pitiable attempt at a
sneer.
Raby's reply to this was happier.
" Why, what the better are you for knowing it now?
We had orders not to worry you unnecessarily.   Had we
not Jael? "
" That is all very well in some things. But, where my
son is concerned, pray never keep the truth from me again.
When did she break off with Henry? or did he quarrel
with her?"
" I have no idea. I was not in the country."
" Do you know, dear? "
" No, Mrs. Little. But I am of your mind. I think she
could not have loved Mr. Henry as she ought? "
" When did you see her last? "
" I could not say justly: but it was a long while ago."
Mrs. Little interpreted this that Jael had quarrelled with
Grace for her fickleness, and gave her a look of beaming affection; then fell into a dead silence, and soon tears were seen
stealing down her cheek.
"But I shall write to her," said she, after a long and
painful silence.



406          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Mr. Raby hoped she would do nothing of the kind.
" Oh! I shall not say much. I shall put hei one question.
Of course she knows why they part."
Next morning Jael Dence asked Mr. Raby whether the
threatened letter must be allowed to go.
" Of course it must," said Raby. "I have gone as far off
the straight path as a gentleman can. And I wish we may not
repent our ingenuity. Deceive a mother about her son! what
can justify it after all? "
Mrs. Little wrote her letter, and showed it to Jael:--
* DEAR Miss CARDEN,-They tell me you are about to be
married. Can this be true, and Henry Little alive?"
An answer came back, in due course:" DEAR MRS. LITTLE,--It is true: and I am miserable. Forgive me, and forget me."
Mrs. Little discovered the marks of tears upon the paper,
and was sorely puzzled.
She sat silent a long time: then, looking up, she saw Jael
Dence gazing at her with moist eyes and an angelic look of
anxiety and affection.
She caught her round the neck, and kissed her, almost
passionately.
" All the better," she cried, struggling with a sob.  " I
shall have my own way for once. You shall be my daughter
instead."
Jael returned her embrace with ardour, but in silence, and
with averted head.
When Jael Dence heard that Grace Carden was in Hillsborough, she felt very much drawn to go and see her: but she
knew the meeting must be a sad one to them both; and that
made her put it off till the very day before the wedding.
Then, thinking it would be too unkind if she held entirely
aloof, and being, in truth, rather curious to know whether
Grace had really been able to transfer her affections in so short
a time, she asked Mr. Raby's leave, and drove one of the
ponies in to Woodbine Villa.

-9@~11



PUT YOURSELF IN ITS PLACE.

407

CHAPTER XXXIX.
T'HE short interval previous to the wedding-day passed, to all
appearance, as that period generally does. Settlements were
drawn, and only awaited signature. The bride seemed occu.
pied with dress, and receiving visits and presents, and reading
and writing letters of that sort which ought to be done by
machinery.
The bridegroom hovered about the house, running.in and
Dut on this or that pretext.
She received his presents graciously, read him the letters
of her female friends, and forced herself to wear a look of
languid complacency, specially before others.
Under all this routine she had paroxysms of secret misery;
and he was in tortures.
These continued until the eve of the wedding, and then he
breathed freely. No letter had come from the U. S., and tomorrow was the wedding-day. The chances were six to one
no letter came that day, and, even if one should, he had now
an excuse ready for keeping Lally on the premises that particular morning. At one o'clock he would be flying south with
his bride.
He left the Villa to dress for dinner. During this interval,
Jael Dence called.
The housemaid knocked at Grace's door-she was dressing
-and told her Jael wished to see her.
Grace was surprised and much disturbed. It flashed on
her, in a moment, that this true and constant lover of Henry
Little had come to enjoy her superiority; she herself had
greatly desired this meeting, once; but now it could only
serve to mortify her. The very thought that this young
woman was near her set her trembling; but she forced herself
to appear calm, and, turning to her maid, said, " Tell her I can
see no one to-day."
The lady's-maid gave this message to the other servant,
and she went downstairs with it.
The message, however, had not been gone long when the
desire to put a question to Jael Dence returned strongly upon
Grace Carden.
She yielded to an uncontrollable impulse, and sent her maid
down to say that she would speak to Jael Dence, is her bed.
room, the last thing at night.



408          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
4" The last thing at night!" said Jael, colouring with iudig.
nation; " and where am I to find a bed after that? "
"Oh," said the late footman, now butler, "you shall
not leave the house. I'll manage that for you with ths housekeeper."
At half-past eleven o'clock that night, Grace dismissed her
maid, and told her to bring Jael Dence to her.
Jael came, and they confronted each other once more.
" You can go," said Grace to the maid.
They were alone, and eyed each other strangely.
" Sit down," said Grace, coldly.
' No, thank you," said Jael, firmly. " I shall not stay long
after the way I have been received."
' And how did you expect to be received?"
" As I used to be. As a poor girl who once saved his life,
and nearly lost her own, through being his true and faithful
servant."
" Faithful to him, but not to me."
Jael's face showed she did not understand this.
" Yes," said Grace, bitterly, " you are the real cause of
my marrying Mr. Coventry, whom I don't love, and never can
love. There, read that. I can't speak to you. You look
all candour and truth; but I know what you are; all the
women in that factory knew about you and him-read that."
She handed her the anonymous letter, and watched her like an
eagle.
Jael read the poison, and coloured a little; but was not
confounded.
"Do you believe this, Miss Carden? "
" I did not believe it, at first; but too many people have
confirmed it. Your own conduct has confirmed it, my poor
girl. This is cruel of me."
" Never mind," said Jael, resolutely.  We have gone too
far to stop. My conduct! What conduct, if you please? "
" They all say that, when you found he was no more, you
attempted self-destruction."
" Ah! " cried Jael, like a wounded hare; "they must tell
you that " and she buried her face in her hands.
Now this was a young woman endowed by nature with
great composure, and a certain scbriety and weight; so, when
she gave way like that, it produced a great effect on those who
knew her.
Grace sighed, and was distressed. But there was no help



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

409

for it now. She awaited Jael's reply, and Jael could not speak
for some time. She conquered her agitation, however, at last,
and said, in a low voice,-" Suppose yoa had a sister, whom
you loved dearly-and then you had a quarrel with her, and
neither of you much to blame, the fault lay with a third
person; and suppose you came home suddenly, and found that
sister had left England in trouble, and gone to the ether end
of the world-would not that cut you to the heart? "
" Indeed it would. How correctly you speak. Now who
has been teaching you? "
"Mrs. Little!"
" Ah "
" You have a father. Suppose you left him for a month,
and then came back and found him dead and buried-think of
that -buried!"
" Poor girl "
" And all this to fall on a poor creature just off a sick bed,
and scarcely right in her head. When I found poor Mr. Henry
was dead, and you at death's door, I crawled home for comfort, and there I found desolation; my sister gone across the
sea, my father in the churchyard.  I wandered abont all
night, with my heavy heart, and distraught brain, and at last
they found me in the river: they may say I threw myself in,
but it is my belief I swoonedc away and fell in. I wouldn't
swear, though, for I remember nothing of it. What does it
prove against me? "
" Not much, indeed, by itself. But they all say you were
shut up with him for hours."
" And that is true; ten hours every day. He was at war
with these trades, and his own workman had betrayed him; he
knew I was as strong as a man at some kinds of work,-of
course I can't strike blows, and hurt people, like a man,-so he
asked me, would I help him grind saws with his machine on the
sly, clandestinely I mean. Well, I did, and very easy work it
was, child's play to me that had wrought on a farm: he gave me
six pounds a week for it. That's all the harm we did together;
and, as for what we said, let me tell you a first-rate workman,
like poor Mr. Henry, works very silently; that is where they
beat us women. I am sure we often ground a dozen saws, and
'not a word, except upon ]tho business. When we did talk, it
was sure to be about you. Poor lad, the very last time wo
wrought together, I mind he said, ' Well done, Jae!, that's
gcod work; it brings me an inch nearer her.' And I said,



1lU           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
All the better, and I'd give him another hour or two every
day if he liked. That very evening I took him his tea at
seven o'clock. He was writing letters; one was to you. He
was just addressing it. 'Good-night, Jael,' said he. 'You
have been a good friend to her and me.' "
" Oh! did he say that?  What became of that letter?"
" Upon my soul he did: ay, and it was his last word to
me in this world. But you are not of his mind, it seems.
The people in the factory! I know they used to say we were
sweethearts; you can't wonder at that; they didn't know
about ybu, nor any of our secrets: and, of course, vulgar folk
iike them could not guess the sort of affection I had for poor
Mr. Henry; but a lady like you should not go by their lights.
Besides, I was always open with you. Once I had a different
feeling for him: did I hide it from you?  When I found he
loved you, I set to work to cure myself; I did cure myself,
before your very eyes; and, after that, you ought to be ashamed
of yourself to go and doubt me. There now, I have made
her cry."
Her own voice faltered a moment, and she said, with gentle
dignity, " Well, I forgive you, for old kindness past; but I
shall not sleep under this roof now. God bless you, and give
you many happy days yet with this gentleman you are going
to marry. Farewell."
She was actually going; but Grace caught her by the arm.
" No, no, you shall not leave me so."
" Ay, but I will." And Jael's eyes, so mild in general,
began to sparkle with anger, at being detained against her
will; but, generous to the last, she made no use of her great
strength to get clear from Grace.
"You will not go, if you are the woman you were. I
believe your words, I believe your honest face, I implore your
forgiveness. I am the most miserable creature in this world.
Pray do not abandon me."
This appeal, made with piteous gestures, and streaming
eyes, overpowered Jael Dence, and soon they were seated,
rocking together, and Grace pouring out her heart.
Jael then learned, to her dismay, that Grace's belief in
Henry's falsehood was a main cause of this sudden marriage.
Had she believed her Henry true, she would have mourned
him, as a widow, two years at least.
The unhappy young lady lamented her precipitation; and
the idea of marrying Mr. Coventry to-morrow became odious



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS ILACE.

411

to her. She asked Jael wildly, whether she should not be
justified in putting an end to her life.
Jael consoled her all she could; and, at her request, slept
in the same bed with her. Indeed she was afraid to leave her;
for she was wild at times, and said she would prefer to be
married to that dead hand people said was at the Town Hall,
and then thrown into one grave with it. " That's the bridal I
long for," said she.
In the morning she was calmer, and told Jael she thought
she was doing right.
" I shall be neither more nor less wretched for marrying
this poor man," said she: "and I shall make two people
happy; two people that deserve the sacrifice I make."
So, after all, the victim went calmly.
Early in the morning came a letter from Doctor Fynes.
He was confined by gout, and sorry to say the ceremony he
had hoped to perform must be done by his curate.
Now this curate was quite a stranger to Grace, and indeed
to most people in Hillsborough. Doctor Fynes himself knew
noiing about him except that he had come in answer to his
inquiry for a curate, had brought good letters of recommendation, and had shown himself acquainted with the learned
doctor's notes to Apollonins Rhodius; on which several
grounds the doctor, who was himself a better scholar than a
priest, had made him his curate, and had heard no complaints,
except from a few puritanical souls; these he looked on as
barbarians, and had calmly ignored them and their prejudices,
ever since he transferred his library from St. John's College
Cambridge to St. Peter's Rectory, and that was thirty years ago.
This sudden substitute of an utter stranger for Doctor
Fynes afflicted Grace Carden not a little, and her weddingday began with a tear or two on that account. But, strange
as it may appear, she lived to alter her mind, and to thank
and bless Mr. Beresford for taking her old friend's place on
that great occasion.
But, while the bride dressed for church, and her bridesmaids and friends drove up, events were taking place, to deal
with which I must retrograde a step.
Jael Dence having gone to " Woodbine Villa," Mrs. Little
and her brother dined tete-a-tte; and the first question she
asked was, " Why, where is Jael?"
"Don't you know? gone to 'Woodbine Villa.'       The
wedding is to-morrow."



412

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

" What, my Jael gone to that girl's wedding! "  And her
eyes flashed with ire.
" Why not?  I am going to it myself."
" I am sorry to hear you say so: very sorry."
" Why, she is my godchild. Would you have me affront
her? "
" If she is your godchild, Henry is your nephew."
" Of course, and I did all I could to marry him to Grace:
but, you see, he would be wiser than me."
" Dear Guy, my poor Henry was to blame, for not accepting your generous offer; but that does not excuse this heartless, fickle girl."
Raby's sense of justice began to revolt.  My dear Edith,
I can't bear to hear you speak so contemptuously of this poor
girl, who has so nearly died for love of your son; she is one
of the noblest, purest, most unselfish creatures I ever knew.
Why judge so hastily?  But that is the way with you ladies:
it must be the woman who is in the wrong. Men are gods,
and women devils; that is your creed."
" Is Henry going to marry another? "
" Not that I know of."
" Then what excuse can there be for her conduct?  Does
wrong become right, when this young lady does it?  It is you
who are prejudiced, not I. Her conduct is without excuse.
I have written to her: she has replied, and has offered me no
excuse. 'Forgive me,' she says,' and forget me.' I shall
never forgive her; and you must permit me to despise her for
-a few years before I forget her."
" Well, don't excite yourself so: my poor Edith, some day
or other you will be sorry you ever said a word against that
amiable and most unfortunate girl."
He said this so sadly and solemnly that Mrs. Little's anger
fell directly, and they both sat silent a long time.
" Guy," said Mrs. Little, "tell me the truth. Has my
son done anything wrong-anything rash?  It was strange he
should leave England without telling me. He told Doctor
Amboyne. Oh, there is some mystery here! If I did not
know you so well, I should say there is some deceit going on
in this house. There is---You hang your head. I cannot bear
to give you pain, so I will ask you no more questions. But--"
There was a world of determination in that " but."

She retired early to bed-to bed but not to rest.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

413

In the silence of the night she recalled every thing, every
look, every word that had seemed a little strange to her, and
put them all together. She could not sleep, vague misgivings
crawled over her agitated mind; at length she slumbered from
sheer exhaustion.  She rose early; yet, when she came downstairs, Raby was just starting for Woodbine Villa.
Mrs. Little asked him to take her into Hillsborough. He
looked uneasy, but complied; and, at her desire, set her down
in the market-place of Hillsborough. As soon as he was out
of sight she took a fly, and directed the driver to take her to
Mr. Little's works. "I mean," said she, " the works where
Mr. Bayne is."
She found Mr. Bayne in his counting-house, dressed in
deep mourning.
He started at sight of her, and then she saw his eye fall
with surprise on her grey dress.
" Mr. Bayne," said she, " I am come to ask you a question
or two."
" Be seated, madam," said Bayne, reverently. " I expected
a visit from you or from your agent; and the accounts are all
ready for your inspection. I keep them as clear as possible."
" I do not come here about accounts. My son has perfect
cenfidence in you, and so have I."
" Thank you, madam; thank you kindly. He did indeed
honour me with his confidence, and with his friendship. I am
sure he was more like a brother to me than an employer. Ah,
madam! I shall never, never, see his fellow again."  And
honest Bayne turned away with his hand to his eyes.
This seemed to Mrs. Little to be more than the occasion
required, and did not tend to lessen her misgivings. However,
she said gravely, " Mr. Bayne, I suppose you have heard there
is to be a wedding in the town to-day?  Miss Carden? "
" That is sudden! No, madam, I didn't know it. I can
hardly believe it."
" It is so. She marries a Mr. Coventry. Now I think
you were in my son's confidence; can you tell me whether
there was any quarrel between him and Miss Carden before he
left us? "
" Well, madam, I didn't see so much of him lately, he was
always at the other works. Would to heaven he had never
seen them. But I don't believe he ever gave that lady an
unkind word: he was not that sort; he was ready of his
hand against a man, but a very lamb with women he was.



I14

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

And so she is going to marry? Well, well; the world it must
go round. She loved him dearly, too. She was down at Bolt
and Little's works day after day searching for him. She spent
money like water, poor thing! I have seen her with her white
face and great eyes watching the men drag the river for him;
and, when that horrible thing was found at last, they say she
was on the bridge and swooned dead away, and lay at death's
door. But you will know all this, madam; and it is sad for
me to speak of, let alone you that are his mother."
The colour died out of Mrs. Little's cheek as he spoke;
but, catching now a glimpse of the truth, she drew Bayne on
with terrible cunning, and so learned that there had been a
tremendous explosion, and Jael Dence taken up for dead; and
that, some time after, an arm and a hand had been found in
the river and recognized for the remains of Henry Little.
When she had got this out of the unwary Bayne she
uttered a piercing scream, and her head hung over the chair,
and her limbs writhed, and the whole creature seemed to
wither up.
Then Bayne saw with dismay what he had done, and began
to falter out expressions of regret.
She paid no attention.
He begged her to let him fetch her some salts or a cordial.
She shook her head, and lay weak as water and white as a
sheet.
At last she rose, and, supporting herself for a moment by
the back of the chair, she said, "You will take me to see my
son's remains."
" Oh, for heaven's sake don't think of it "
SI must; I cannot keep away from them an instant. And
how else can I know they are his?    Do you think I will
believe any eye but my own?-Come."
He had no power to disobey her. He trembled in every
limb at what was coming, but he handed her into her carriage,
and went with her to the Town Hall.
When they brought her the tweed sleeves she trembled
like an aspen leaf. When they brought her the glass receptacle she seized Bayne by the shoulder and turned her head
away. By degrees she looked round, and seemed to stiffen all
of a sudden. " It is not my son," said she.
She rushed out of the place, bade Mr. Bayne good-morning,
and drove directly to Doctor Amboyne. She attacked him at



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

415

once. ' You have been deceiving me all this time about my
son; and what am I the better? what is anybody the better?
Now tell me the truth. You think him dead? "
(Doctor Amboyne hung his head in alarm and confusion.)
"( Why do you think so? Do you go by those remains?
I have seen them. My child was vaccinated on the left arm,
and carried the mark. He had specks on two of his fingernails: he had a small wart on his little finger: and his fingers
were not blunt and uncouth, like that; they were as taper as
any lady's in England: that hand is nothing like my son's;
you are all blind; yet you must go and blind the only one who
had eyes, the only one who really loved him, and whose opinion
is worth a straw."
Doctor Amboyne was too delighted at the news to feel these
reproaches very deeply. "Thank God!" said he. "Scold
me, for I deserve it. But I did for the best; but, unfortunately, we have still to account for his writing to no one all
this time. No matter. I begin to hope. That was the worst
evidence. Edith, I must go to Woodbine Villa. That poor
girl must not marry in ignorance of this. Believe me, she will
never marry Coventry, if he is alive. Excuse my leaving you
at such a time, but there is not a moment to be lost."
He placed her on a sofa, and opened the window; for, by
a natural reaction, she was beginning to feel rather faint. He
gave his housekeeper strict orders to take care of her, then,
snatching his hat, went hastily out.
At the door he met the footman with several letters (he
had a large correspondence), shoved them pell-mell into his
breast-pocket, shouted to a cabman stationed near, and drove
off to Woodbine Villa.
It was rather up-hill, but he put his head out of the window
and offered the driver a sovereign to go fast. The man lashed
his horse up the hill, and did go very fast, though it seemed
slow to Doctor Amboyne, because his wishes flew so much
faster.
At last he got to the villa, and rang furiously.
After a delay, that set the Doctor stamping, Lally appeared.
" I must see Miss Garden directly."
" Step in, sir; she won't be long now."
Doctor Amboyne walked into the dining-room, and saw it
adorned with a wealth of flowers, and the wedding-breakfast
set out with the usual splendour; but there was nobody there:
and immediately an uneasy suspicion crossed his mind.



41e

PUT YOURSELP IN HIS PLACE.

He came out into the passage, and found Lally thee.
" Are they gone to the church I "
" They are," said Lally, with consummate coolness.
" You Irish idiot I " roared the Doctor; " why couldn't you
tell me that before?"  And, notwithstanding his ungainly
figure, he ran down the road, shouting, like a Stentor, to his
receding cabman.
" Bekase I saw that every minute was goold," said Lally,
as soon as he was out of hearing.
The cabman, like most of his race, was rather deaf and a
little blind, and Doctor Amboyne was much heated and out of
breath before he captured him. He gasped out, " To St. Peter's
Church, for your life! "
It was rather down hill this time, and about a mile off.
In little more than five minutes the cab rattled up to the
church door.
Doctor Amboyne got out, told the man to wait, and entered
the church with a rapid step.
Before he had gone far up the centre aisle, he stopped.
Mr. Coventry and Grace Carden were coming down the aisle
together in wedding costume, the lady in her bridal veil.
They were followed by the bridesmaids.
SDoctor Amboyne stared, and stepped aside into an open pew
to let them pass.
They swept by; he looked after them, and remained glued
to his seat till the church was clear of the procession.
He went into the vestry, arid found the curate there.
" Are that couple really married, sir?" said he.
The curate looked amazed. " As fast as I can make them,"
said he, rather flippantly.
" Excuse me," said the Doctor, faintly. "It was a foolish
question to ask."
"I think I have the honour of speaking to Doctor Amboyne?"
Doctor Amboyne bowed mechanically.
"You will be at the wedding-breakfast, of course?"
" Humph I"
" Why, surely you are invited 2"
" Yes " (with an equally absent air).
Finding him thus confused, the sprightly curate laughed
and bade him good morning, jumped into a hansom, and away
to Woodbine Villa.
Doctor Amboyne followed him slowly.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

417

" Drive me to Woodbine Villa. There's no hurry now."
On the way, he turned the matter calmly over, and put this
question to himself.-Suppose he had reached the villa in time
to tell Grace Carden the news! Certainly he would have
disturbed the wedding; but would it have been put off any the
more? The bride's friends and advisers would have replied,
" But that is no positive proof that he is alive; and, if he is
alive, he has clearly abandoned her. Not a line for all these
months."
This view of the matter appeared to him unanswerable, and
reconciled him, in a great degree, to what seemed inevitable.
He uttered one deep sigh of regret, and proceeded now to
read his letters; for he was not likely to have another opportunity for an hour or two at least, since he must be at the
wedding-breakfast. His absence would afflict the bride.
The third letter he took out of his breast-pocket bore an
American postmark. At the first word of it he uttered an
ejaculation, and his eye darted to the signature.
Then he gave a roar of delight. It was signed " Henry
Little," and the date only twelve days old.
His first thought was the poor lady who, at this moment,
lay on a sofa in his house, a prey to doubts and fears he could
now cure in a moment.
But no sooner had he cast his eyes over the contents, than
his very flesh began to creep with dire misgivings and suspicions.
To these succeeded the gravest doubts as to the course he
ought to pursue at Woodbine Villa.
He felt pretty sure that Grace Carden had been entrapped
into marrying a villain, and his first impulse was to denounce
the bridegroom before the assembled guests.
But his cooler judgment warned him against acting in hot
blood, and suggested it would be better to try and tell her
privately.
And then he asked himself what would be the consequence
of telling her.
She was a lady of great spirit, fire, and nobility. She would
never live with this husband of hers.
And then came the question, what would be her life?
She might be maid, wife, and widow, all her days.
Horrible as it was, he began almost to fear her one miserable chance of happiness might lie in ignorance.
Dut then how long could Ahe be in ignorance?
EB



s1P PUT YOURSELF IN IHIS PLACE.
Little was coming home; he would certainly speak out.
Dr. Amboyne was more tormented with doubts than a man
of inferior intellect would have been. His was an academic
mind, accustomed to look at every side of a question: and,
when he reached Woodbine Villa, he was almost distracted
with doubt and perplexity. However, there was one person
from whom the news must not be kept a moment. He took
an envelope out of his pocket-book, and sent the cabman to
Mrs. Little with this line:" THANK God, I have a letter from Henry Little by this day's
post. He is well. Wait an hour or two for me. I cannot
leave Woodbine Villa at present."
He sent this off by his cabman, and went into the breakfast-room in a state of mind easier to imagine than to describe.
The party were all seated, and his the only vacant place.
It was like a hundred other weddings at which he had
been; and, seeing the bride and bridegroom seated together,
as usual, and the pretty bridesmaids tittering, as usual, and
the gentle dulness lighted up with here and there a feeble jest,
as usual, he could hardly realize that horrible things lay beneath the surface of all this snowy bride-cake, and flowers, and
white veils, and weak jocoseness.
He stared, bowed, and sank into his place, like a man in a
dream.
Bridesmaids became magnetically conscious that an incongruous element had entered; so they tittered. At what does
sweet silly seventeen not titter?
Knives and forks clattered, champagne popped, and Dr.
Amboyne was more perplexed and miserable than he had ever
been. He had never encountered a more hopeless situation.
Presently Lally came and touched the bridegroom. He
apologized, and left the room a moment.
Lally then told him to be on his guard, for the fat doctor
knew something. He had come tearing up in a fly, and had
been dreadfully put out when he found Miss Carden was gone
to the church.
" Well, but he might merely wish to accompany hei to the
church: he is an old friend."
Lally shook his head and said there was much more in it
than that; he could tell by the man's eye, and his uneasy
way. " Master, dear, get out of this, for heaven's sake, as fast
as ye can."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIIS PLACE.

419

" You are right; go and order the carriage round, as soon
as the horses can be put to."
Coventry then went hastily back to the bridal guests, and
Lally ran to the neighbouring inn which furnished the four
post-horses.
Coventry had hardly settled down in his chair before he
east a keen but furtive glance at Doctor Amboyne's face.
Then he saw directly that the Doctor's mind was working,
and that he was secretly and profoundly agitated.
But, after all, he thought, what could the man know? And
if he had known anything, would he have kept it to himself?
Still he judged it prudent to propitiate Dnctor Amboyne;
so, when the time came for the usual folly of drinking healths,
he leaned over to him, and, in the sweetest possible voice,
asked him if he would do them both the honour to propose the
bride's health.
At this unexpected   call from  Mr. Coventry, Doctor
Amboyne stared in the bridegroom's face.  He stared at him
so that other people began to stare. Recovering himself a
little, he rose mechanically, and surprised everybody who knew
him.
Instead of the easy gaiety natural to himself, and proper ti
the occasion, he delivered a few faltering words of affection for
the bride; then suddenly stopped, and, after a pause, said,
"But some younger man must foretell her the bright career
she deserves. I am unfit. We don't know what an hour may
bring forth." With this he sank into his chair.
An uneasy grin, and then a gloom, fell on the bright company at these strange words, and all looked at one another
uncomfortably.
But this situation was unexpectedly relieved.  The young
curate rose, and said, "I accept the honour Doctor Amboyne
is generous enough to transfer to the younger gentlemen of the
party,-accept it with pride."
Starting from this exordium he pronounced, with easy
volubility, a charming panegyric on the bride, congratulated
her friends, and then congratulated himself on being the instrument to unite her in holy wedlock with a gentleman worthy of
her affection. Then, assuming for one moment the pastor, he
pronounced a blessing on the pair, and sat down, casting
glances all round out of a pair of singularly restless eyes.
The loud applause that followed left him in no doubt as to
the favourable effect he had produced.
E s2



4EU          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Coventry, in particular, looked most expressively grateful.
The bridegroom's health followed, and Coventry returned
thanks in a speech so neat and well delivered, that Grace felt
proud of his performance.
Then the carriage and four came round, and Coventry gave
Grace an imploring glance on which she acted at once, being
herself anxious to escape from so much publicity.  She made
her curtsies and retired to put on her travelling-dress.
Then Doctor Amboyne cursed his own indecision, but still
could not make up his mind, except to tell Raby and make
him the judge what course was best.
The gaiety, never very boisterous, began to flag altogether;
when suddenly a noise was heard outside, and one or two
young people, who darted unceremoniously to the window, were
rewarded by the sight of a man and a woman struggling and
quarrelling at the gate.  The disturbance in question arose
thus.  Jael Dence, looking out of Grace's window, saw the
postman coming, and ran to get Grace her letters (if any)
before she went.
The postman, knowing her well, gave her the one letter
there was.
Lally, returning from the inn, where he had stopped one
unlucky minute to drain a glass, saw this, and ran after Jael
and caught her just inside the gate.
"That is for me," said he, rudely.
"Nay, it's for thy betters, young man; 'tis for Miss Grace
Carden."
" She is Mrs. Coventry now, so give it me."
"I'll take her orders first."
On this Lally grabbed at it and caught Jael's right hand,
which closed directly on the letter like a vice.
"Are these your manners? " said she.      "Give over
now.",
" I tell you I will have it," said he, fiercely, for he had
caught sight of the handwriting.
He seized her band and applied his knuckles to the back
cf it with all his force.  That hurt her, and she gave a cry,
and twisted away from him and drew back; then, putting her
left hand to his breast, she gave a great yaw, and then a
forward rush with her mighty loins, and a contemporaneous
shove with her amazing left arm, that would have pushed
down some brick walls, and the weight and strength so
suddenly applied sent Lally flying like a feather.  His head



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

421

struck the stone gate-post, and he measured his length
under it.
Jael did not know how completely she had conquered him,
and she ran in with a face as red as fire, and took the letter
ap to Grace, and was telling her, all in a heat, about the
insolence of her new husband's Irish servant, when suddenly
she half recognized the handwriting, and stood staring at it,
and began to tremble.
" Why, what is the matter? " said Grace.
" Oh, nothing, Miss. I'm foolish. The writing seems to
me like a writing we shall never see again."  And she stood
and trembled still more, for the handwriting struck her more
and more.
Grace ran to her, and, at the very first glance, uttered a
shriek of recognition.  She caught it from Jael, tore it open,
saw the signature, and sank into a chair, half-fainting, with
the letter pressed convulsively to her breast.
Jael, trembling, but comparatively self-possessed, ran to
the door directly, and locked it.
" My darling! my darling! he is alive. The dear words,
they swim before my eyes.   Read! read! tell me what he
says.  Why has he abandoned me?    He has not abandoned
me. Oh, God! what have I done? what have I done? "
Before that letter was half read, or rather sobbed, out to
her, Grace -tore off all her bridal ornaments, and trampled
them under her feet, and moaned, and twisted, and writhed, as
if her body was being tortured as well as her heart; for Henry
was true as ever, and she had married a villain.
She took the letter from Jael, and devoured every word;
though she was groaning and sobbing with the wildest agony
all the time.
" MY OWN DEAREST GRACE,               " New York, July 18.
" I WRITE you these few lines in wonder and pain. I
have sent you at least fifteen letters, and in most of them
I have begged you to write to me at the Post-office, New York;
yet not one line is here to greet me in your dear handwriting.
Yet my letters must have all reached ' Woodbine Villa,' or
why are they not sent back?  Of three letters I sent to my
mother, two have been returned from Aberystwith, marked,
' Gone away, and not left her address.'
" I have turned this horrible thing every way in my mind,
and even prayed God to assist my understanding: and I come



~ z          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
back always to the same idea, that some scoundrel has intercepted my letters.
" The first of these I wrote at the works on the evening I
left Hillsborough; the next I wrote from Boston, after my
long illness, in great distress of mind on your account; for I
put myself in your place, and thought what agony it would be
to me if nine weeks passed, and no word from you.  The rest
were written from various cities, telling you I was making our
fortune, and should soon be home. Oh! I cannot write of
such trifles now.
" My own darling, let me find you alive; that is all I ask.
I know I shall find you true to me, if you are alive.
" Perhaps it would have been better if my heart had not
been so entirely filled by you. God has tried me hard in some
things, but he has blessed me with true friends.  It was ungrateful of me not to write to such true friends as Doctor
Amboyne and Jael Dence.     But, whenever I thought of
England, I saw only you.
"By this post I write to Doctor Amboyne, Mr. Bolt,
Mr. Bayne, and Jael Dence.
" This will surely baffle the enemy who has stopped all my
letters to you, and will stop this one, I daresay.
"I say no more, beloved one. What is the use?   You
will perhaps never see this letter, and you know more than I
can say, for you know how I love you: and that is a great
deal more than ever I can put on paper.
"I sail for England in four days. Heaven help me to get
over the interval.
"I forget whether I told you I had made my fortune.
"Your devoted and most unhappy lover,
" THLNRY."
Grace managed to read this, in spite of the sobs and moans
that shook her, and the film that half blinded her; and, when
she had read it, sank heavily down, and sat all crushed together,
with hands working like phrenzy.
Jael kneeled beside her, and kissed and wept over her, unheeded.
At last she spoke, looking straight before her, as if she was
speaking to the wall.
" Bring my godfather here."
" Wont you see your father first? " said Jael, timidly.



rUT rOUi16iEFI N 111 SPACI. 423

423

" I have no father. I want something I can lean on ovet
the gulf-a man of honour. Fetch Mr. Raby to me."
Jael kissed her tenderly, and wept over her once more, a
minute, then went softly downstairs, and straight into the
breakfast-room.
Here, in the meantime, considerable amusement had been
created by the contest between Lally and Jael Dence, the
more so on account of the triumph achieved by the weaker
vessel.
When Lally got up, and looked about him ruefully, great
was the delight of the younger gentlemen.
When he walked indoors, they chaffed him through the
open window, and none of them noticed that the man was
paler than even the rough usage he had received could account
for.
This jocund spirit, however, was doomed to be short-lived.
Lally came into the room, looking pale and troubled, and
whispered a word in his master's ear; then retired, but left his
master as pale as himself.
Coventry, seated at a distance from the window, had not
seen the scrimmage outside, and Lally's whispered information
fell on him like a thunderbolt.
Mr. Beresford saw at once that something was wrong,
and hinted as much to his neighbour. It went, like magic,
round the table, and there was an uneasy silence.
In the midst of this silence, mysterious sounds began to be
heard in the bride's chamber; a faint scream; feet rushing
across the floor; a sound as of some one sinking heavily on to
a chair or couch.
Presently came a swift stamping, that told a tale of female
passion; and, after that, confused sounds, that could not be
interpreted through the ceiling, yet, somehow, the listeners
felt they were unusual. One or two attempted conversation,
out of politeness; but it died away-curiosity and uneasiness
prevailed.
Lally put his head in at the door, and asked if the carriage
was to be packed.
" Of course," said Coventry; and soon the servants, male
and female, were seen taking boxes out from the hall to the
carriage.
Jael Dence walked into the room, and went to Mr. Raby
"The bride desires to see you immediately, sir."
Raby rose, and followed Jael out.



424

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

The next minute, a lady's-maid came, with a similar message to Doctor Amboyne.
He rose with great alacrity, and followed her.
There was nothing remarkable in the bride's taking privata
leave of these two valued friends. But somehow, the mysterious things that had preceded, made the guests look with half
suspicious eyes into everything: and Coventry's manifest discomfiture, when Doctor Amboyne was sent for, justified this
vague sense that there was something strange going on beneath
the surface.
Neither Raby nor Amboyne came down again, and Mr. Beresford remarked aloud that the bride's room was like the lion's
*den in the fable, "' Vestigia nulla retrorsum.' "
At last, the situation became intolerable to Coventry. He
rose, in desperation, and said, with a ghastly attempt at a
smile, that he must, nevertheless, face the dangers of the place
himself, as the carriage was now packed, and Mrs. Coventry and
he, though loth to leave their kind friends, had a longish journey
before them. " Do not move, I pray; I shall be back directly."
As soon as he had got out of the room, he held a whispered consultation with Lally, and then, collecting all his
courage, and summoning all his presence of mind, he went
slowly up the stairs, determined to disown Lally's acts (Lally
himself had suggested this), and pacify Grace's friends, if he
could; but, failing that, to turn round, and stand haughtily on
his legal rights, ay, and enforce them too.
But, meantime, what had passed in the bride's chamber?
Raby found Grace Carden, with her head buried on her
toilet-table, and her hair all streaming down her back.
The floor was strewn with pearls and broken ornaments,
and fragments of the bridal veil. On the table lay Henry
Little's letter.
Jael took it, without a word, and gave it to Raby.
He took it, and, after a loud ejaculation of surprise, began
to read it.
He had not quite finished it, when Doctor Amboyne tapped
at the door, and Jael let him in.
That crushed figure with dishevelled hair, and Raby's eye
gleaming over the letter in his hand, told him at once what
was going on.
He ceased to doubt, or vacillate, directly: he whispered
Jael Dence to stand near Grace, and watch her closely.
He had seen a woman start up and throw herself, m one



PUT YO[URSELF IN HIS PLACE.

426

momett, out of a window, for less than this, a woman crushed
apparently, and more dead than alive, as Grace Garden was.
Then he took out his own letter, and read it in a low voice
to Mr. liaby; but it afterwards appeared the bride heard every
word.
" MY BEST FRIEND,
"FORGIVE me for neglecting you so long, and writing
only to her I love with all my soul. Forgive me, for I smart
for it. I have written fifteen letters to my darling Grace, and
received no reply. I wrote her one yesterday, but have now
no hope she will ever get it. This is terrible, but there is
worse behind. This very day, I have learned that my premises were blown up, within a few hours of my leaving, and
poor, faithful Jael Dence nearly killed; and then a report of
my own death was raised, and some remains found in the
ruins, that fools said were mine. I suppose the letters I left
in the box were all destroyed by the fire.
" Now, mark my words, one and the same villain has put
that dead man's hand and arm in the river, and has stopped
my letters to Grace; I am sure of it. So what I want you to
do is, first of all, to see my darling, and tell her I am alive and
well, and then put her on her guard against deceivers.
" I suspect the postman has been tampered with: I write
to Mr. Ransome to look into that. But what you might learn
for me, is, whether anybody lately has had any opportunity to
stop letters addressed to ' Woodbine Villa.' That seems to
point to Mr. Garden, and he was never a friend of mine. But,
somehow, I don't think he would do it.
" You see, I ask myself two questions. Is there any man
in the world who has a motive strong enough to set him tampering with my letters? and, again, is there any man base
enough to do such an act? And the answer to both questions
is the same. I have a rival, and he is base enough for anything. Judge for yourself. I as good as saved that Coventry's
life, one snowy night, and all I asked in return was that he
wouldn't blow me to the trades, and so put my life in jeopardy.
He gave me his word of honour he wouldn't. But he broke
his word. One day, when Grotait and I were fast friends, and
never thought to differ again, Grotait told me this Coventry
was the very man that came to him and told him where I was
working. Such a lump of human dirt as that, for you can't
call him a man, must be capable of anything."



426          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PILACE.
Here the reading of the letter was interrupted by an
incident.
There was, on the toilet-table, a stiletto, with a pearl
handle; it was a small thing, but the steel rather long, and
very bright and pointed.
The unfortunate bride, without lifting her head from the
table, had reached out her hand, and was fingering this
stiletto. Jael Dence went and took it gently away, and put it
out of reach. The bride went on fingering, as if she had still
got hold of it.
Amboyne exchanged an approving glance with Jael, and
Raby concluded the letter.
" I shall be home in a few days after this; and, if I find
my darling well and happy, there's no great harm done: I
don't mind my own trouble and anxiety, great as they are: but
if any scoundrel has made her unhappy, or made her believe I
am dead, or false to my darling, by Heaven I'll kill him,
though I hang for it next day."
Crushed, benumbed, and broken as Grace Coventry was,
this sentence seemed to act on her like an electric shock.
She started wildly up. " What! my Henry die like a
felon-for a villain like him, and an idiot like me. You won't
allow that; nor you-nor I."
A soft step came to the door, and a gentle tap.
"Who is that? " said Dr. Amb'oyne.
" The bridegroom," replied a soft voice.
"You can't come in here," said Raby, roughly.
" Open the door," said the bride.
Jael went to the door, but looked uncertain.
" Don't keep the bridegroom out," said Grace, reproachfully. Then, in a voice as sweet as his own, "I want to see
him; I want to speak to him."
Jael opened the door slowly, for she felt uneasy. Raby
shrugged his shoulders contemptuously at Grace's condescending to speak to the man, and in so amiable a tone.
Coventry entered, and began, " My dear Grace, the carriage
is ready-  "
No sooner had she got him fairly into the room, than the
bride snatched up the stiletto, and flew at the bridegroom with
gleaming eyes, uplifted weapon, the yell of a furious wild
beast, and hair flying out behind her head like a lion's mane.



PUT YOURSELF IN ItIS PLACE.

CHAPTER       XL.
DOCTOR AMBOYNE and Baby cried out, and tried to interfere;
but Grace's movement was too swift, furious, and sudden; she
was upon the man, with her stiletto high in the air, before
they could get to her, and, indeed, the blow descended, and,
inspired as it was by love, and hate, and fury, would, doubtless, have buried the weapon in a rascal's body; but Jael
Dence caught Grace's arm: that weakened, and also diverted
the blow; yet the slight, keen weapon pierced Coventry's
cheek, and even inflicted a slight wound upon the tongue.
That very moment Jael Dence dragged her away, and held
her round the waist, writhing and striking the air; hei
white hand and bridal sleeve sprinkled with her bridegroom's
blood.
As for him, his love, criminal as it was, supplied the place
of heroism: he never put up a finger in defence. " No," said
he, despairingly, " let me die by her hand, it is all I hope for
now." He even drew near her to enable her to carry out her
wish: but, on that, Jael Dence wrenched her round directly,
and Doctor Amboyne disarmed her, and Raby marched between
the bride and the bridegroom, and kept them apart: then they
all drew their breath, for the first time, and looked aghast at
each other.
Not a face in that room had an atom of colour left in it;
yet it was not until the worst was over, that they realized the
savage scene.
The bridegroom leaned against the wardrobe, a picture of
despair, with blood trickling from his cheek, and channelling
his white waistcoat and linen; the bride, her white and bridal
sleeve spotted with blood, writhed feebly in Jael Dence's arms,
and her teeth clicked together, and her eyes shone wildly. At
that moment she was on the brink of frenzy.
Raby, a man by nature equal to great situations, was the
first to recover self-possession, and see his way. " Silence "
said he, sternly. "Amboyne, here's a wounded man, attend
to him."
He had no need to say that twice: the Doctor examined
his patient zealously, and found him bleeding from the tongue
as well as the cheek; he made him fill his mouth with a
constant supply of cold water, and applied cold water to the
nape of his neck.



428          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
And now there was a knock at the door, and a voice
inquired, rather impatiently, what they were about all this
time. It was Mr. Carden's voice.
They let him in, but instantly closed the door. "Now,
hush!" said Raby, " and let me tell him."  He then, in a
very few hurried words, told him the matter. Coventry hung
his head lower and lower.
Mr. Garden was terribly shaken. He could hardly speak
for some time. When he did, it was in the way of feeble
expostulation. "Oh, my child! my child! what, would you
commit murder? "
"Don't you see I would," cried she, contemptuously,
"sooner than he should do it, and suffer for it like a felon?
You are all blind, and no friends of mine. I should have rid
the earth of a monster, and they would never have hanged me.
I hate you all, you worst of all, that call yourself my father, and
drove me to marry this villain. One thing, you won't be always
at hand to protect him."
" I'll give you every opportunity," said Coventry, doggedly.
" You shall kill me for loving you so madly."
" She shall do no such thing," said Mr. Garden. " Opportunity? do you know her so little as to think she will ever live
with you?  Get out of my house, and never presume to set
foot in it again. My good friends, have pity on a miserable
father, and help me to hide this monstrous thing from the
world."
This appeal was not lost: the gentlemen put their heads
together, and led Coventry into another room. There Doctor
Amboyne attended to him, while Mr. Garden went down and
told his guests the bridegroom had been taken ill, so seriously
indeed that anxiety and alarm had taken the place of joy.
The guests took the hint and dispersed, wondering and
curious.
Meantime, on one side of a plaster wall Amboyne was
attending the bridegroom, and stanching the effusion of blood;
on the other, Raby and Jael Dence were bringing the bride to
reason.
She listened to nothing they could say until they promised
her most solemnly, that she should never be compelled to pass
a night under the same roof as Frederick Coventry. That
pacified her not a little.
Dr. Amboyne had also great trouble with his patient: the
wound in the cheek was not serious: but, by a sort of physical



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

429

retribution-of which, by the by, I have encountered many
curious examples-the tongue, that guilty part of Frederick
Coventry, though slightly punctured, bled so persistently that
Amboyne was obliged to fill his mouth with ice, and, at last,
support him with stimulants. He peremptorily refused to let
him be moved from " Woodbine Villa."
When   this was communicated to Grace, she instantly
exacted Raby's promise; and, as he was a man who never
went from his word, he drove her and Jael to Raby Hall that
very night, and they left Coventry in the Villa, attended by a
surgeon, under whose care Amboyne had left him with strict
injunctions. Mr. Garden was secretly mortified at his daughter's
retreat, but raised no objection.
Next morning, however, he told Coventry; and then Coventry
insisted on leaving the house. " I am unfortunate enough,"
said he; " do not let me separate my only friend from his
daughter."
Mr. Garden sent a carriage off to Raby Hall, with a note,
telling Grace Mr. Coventry was gone of his own accord, and
appeared truly penitent, and much shocked at having inadvertently driven her out of the house. He promised also to protect
her, should Coventry break his word, and attempt to assume
marital rights without her concurrence.
This letter found Grace in a most uncomfortable position.
Mrs. Little had returned late to Raby Hall; but, in the morning, she heard from Jael Dence that Grace was in the house,
and why.
The mother's feathers were up, and she could neither pity
nor excuse. She would not give the unhappy girl a word of
comfort. Indeed she sternly refused to see her. " No," said
she: " Mrs. Coventry is unhappy; so this is no time to show
her how thoroughly Henry Little's mother despises her."
These bitter words never reached poor Grace, but the bare
fact of Mrs. Little not coming downstairs by one o'clock, nor
sending a civil message, spoke volumes, and Grace was sighing over it when her father's letter came. She went home
directly, and so heart-broken, that Jael Dence pitied her
deeply, and went with her, intending to stay a day or two only.
But, every day, something or other occurred, which combined with Grace's prayers to keep her at " Woodbine Villa."
Mr. Coventry remained quiet for some days, by which
means he pacified Grace's terrors.
On the fourth day, Mr. Beresford called at " Woodbine



480          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Villa," and Grace received him, he being the curate of the
parish.
He spoke to her in a sympathetic tone, which let her know
at once he was partly in the secret. He said he had just
visited a very guilty, but penitent man; that we all need
forgiveness, and that a woman, once married, has no chance
of happiness, but with her husband.
Grace maintained a dead silence, only her eye began to
glitter.
Mr. Beresford, who had learned to watch the countenance
of all those he spoke to, changed his tone immediately, from a
spiritual to a secular adviser.
" If I were you," said he, in rather an off-hand way, " I
would either forgive this man the sin into which his love has
betrayed him, or I would try to get a divorce. This would
cost money; but, if you don't mind expense, I think I could
suggest a way-   "
Grace interrupted him. "From whom did you learn my
misery, and his villany?  I let you in, because I thought you
came from God; but you come from a villain. Go back, sir,
and say that an angel, sent by him, becomes a devil in my
eyes."  And she rang the bell with a look that spoke volumes.
Mr. Beresford bowed, smiled bitterly, and went back to
Coventry, with whom he had a curious interview, that ended
in Coventry lending him two hundred pounds on his personal
security. To dispose of Mr. Beresford for the present, I will
add that, soon after this, his zeal for the poor subjected him
to an affront. He was a man of soup-kitchens and subscriptions. One of the old fogies, who disliked him, wrote letters
to The Liberal, and demanded an account of his receipts and
expenditure in these worthy objects, and repeated the demand
with a pertinacity that implied suspicion. Then Mr. Beresford
called upon Dr. Fynes, and showed him the letters, and confessed to him that he never kept any accounts, either of public
or private expenditure. " I can construe Apollonius Rhodiuswith your assistance, sir,"-said he; "but I never could add
up pounds, shillings, and pence; far less divide them, except
amongst the afflicted." " Take no notice of the cads," said
Dr. Fynes. But Beresford represented meekly that a clergyman's value and usefulness were gone when once a slur was
thrown upon him. Then Dr. Fynes gave him high testimonials, and they parted with mutual regret.
It took Grace a day to get over her interview with Mr.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

481

Beresford; and when, with Jael's help, she was calm again,
sho received a letter from Coventry, indited in tones of the
deepest penitence, but reminding her that he had offered her
his life, had made no resistance when she offered to take it,
and never would.
There was nothing in the letter that irritated her; but she
saw in it an attempt to open a correspondence.
She wrote back:" If you really repent your crimes, and have any true pity
for the poor creature whose happiness you have wrecked, show
it by leaving this place, and ceasing all communication with
her."
This galled Coventry, and he wrote back:" What, leave the coast clear to Mr. Little?  No, Mrs.
Coventry; no."
Grace made no reply, but a great terror seized her, and
from that hour preyed constantly on her mind-the fear that
Coventry and Little would meet, and the man she loved would
do some rash act, and perhaps perish on the scaffold for it.
This was the dominant sentiment of her distracted heart,
when one day at eleven A.M., came a telegram from Liverpool:" Just landed. Will be with you by four.
1" HENRY LITTLE."
Jael found her shaking all over, with this telegram in her
hand.
"Thank Heaven you are with me," she gasped. "Let
me see him once more, and die."
This was her first thought; but, all that day, she was
never in the same mind for long together. She would burst
out into joy that he was really alive, and she should see his
face once more. Then she would cower with terror, and say
she dared not look him in the face, she was not worthy. Then
she would ask wildly, who was to tell him?   What would
become of him?
"It would break his heart, or destroy his reason."
"After all he had done and suffered for her! "
Oh I why could not she die before he came? Seeing her
dead body, he would forgive her. She should tell him she



482

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

loved him still, should always love him. She would withhold
no comfort. Perhaps he would kill her. If so, Jael must
manage so that he should not be taken up or tormented any
more, for such a wretch as she was.
But I might as well try to dissect a storm, and write the
gusts of a tempest, as to describe all the waves of passion in
that fluctuating and agonized heart: the feelings and the
agitation of a life were crowded into those few hours, during
which she awaited the lover she had lost.
At last, Jael Dence, though she was also much agitated
and perplexed, decided on a course of action. Just before
four o'clock she took Grace upstairs, and told her she might
see him arrive: but she must not come down, until she was
sent for. " I shall see him first, and tell him all: and, when
he is fit to see you, I will let you know."
Grace submitted, and even consented to 4ie down for halfan-hour. She was now, in truth, scarcely able to stand, being
worn out with the mental struggle. She lay passive, with
Jel Dence's hand in hers.
When she had lain so about an hour, she started up
suddenly, and the next moment a fly stopped at the door.
Henry Little got out at the gate, and walked up the gravel to
the house.
Grace looked at him from behind the curtain, gazed at
him till he disappeared, and then turned round, with seraphic
joy on her countenance. "My darling!" she murmured;
" more beautiful than ever! 0 misery! misery! "
One moment her heart was warm with rapture, the next
it was cold with despair. But the joy was blind love; the
despair was reason.
She waited, and waited, but no summons came.
She could not deny herself the sound of his voice. She
crept down the stairs, and into her father's library; separated
only by thin folding-doors from the room where Henry Little
was with Jael Dence.
Meantime Jael Dence opened the door to Henry Little,
and, putting her finger to her lips, led him into the diningroom, and shut the door.
Now, as his suspicions were already excited, this recep.
tion alarmed him seriously. As soon as ever they were alone,
he seized both Jael's hands. and looking her full in the face,
said:


PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              4W5
" One word-   -is she alive 7 "
" She is."
"Thank God! Bless the tongue that tells me that. My
good Jael! my best friend! " And, with that, kissed her
heartily on both cheeks.
She received this embrace like a woman of wood; a faint
colour rose, but retired directly, and left her cheek as pale
as before.
He noticed her strange coldness, and his heart began to
quake.
"There is something the matter? " he whispered.
" There is."
" Something you don't like to tell me? "
" Like to tell you! I need all my courage, and you yours."
" Say she is alive, once more."
"She is alive, and not likely to die: but she does not
care to live now. They told her you were dead: they told
her you were false: appearances were such she had no chance
not to be deceived. She held out for a long time; but they
got the better of her-her father is much to blame-she ismarried."
" Married I "
" Yes! "
"Married! "   He leaned, sick as death, against the
mantelpiece, and gasped so terribly that Jael's fortitude gave
way, and she began to cry.
After a long time, he got a word or two out in a broken
voice.
" The false-inconstant-wretch!   0 heaven! what I
have done and suffered for her-and now married!-married I
And the earth doesn't swallow her, nor the thunder strike her I
Curse her, curse her husband, curse her children; may her
name be a by-word for shame and misery--"
" Hush! hush! or you will curse your own mad tongue.
Hear all, before you judge her."
"' I have heard all; she is a wife; she shall soon be a
widow. Thought I was false! What business had she to
think I was false?  It is only false hearts that suspect true
ones. She thought me dead?    Why?   Because I was out
of sight. She heard there was a dead hand found in the river.
Why didn't she go and see it? Could all creation pass
another hand off on me for hers?  No, for I loved her. She
never loved me."
FF



434          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
"' She loved you; and loves you still. When that dead
hand was found, she fell swooning, and lay at death's door
for you, and now she has stained her hands with blood for
you. She tried to kill her husband, the moment she found
you were alive and true, and he had made a fool of her."
" Tried to kill him I Why didn't she do it? I should
not have failed at such work. I love her."
" Blame me for that: I stopped her arm, and I am
stronger than she is. I say she is no more to blame than
you. You have acted like a madman, and she suffers for
it. Why did you slip away at night, like that, and not
tell me? "
" I left letters to you and her, and other people besides."
"Yes, left them, and hadn't the sense to post them.
Why didn't you tell me? Had ever any young man as faithful
and true a friend in any young woman as you had in me?
Many a man has saved a woman's life, but it isn't often that
a woman fights for a man, and gets the upper hand: yet you
gave me nothing in return; not even your confidence. Look
the truth in the face, my lad: all your trouble, and all hers,
comes of your sneaking out of Hillsborough in that daft way,
without a word to me, the true friend that was next door to
you: which I nearly lost my life by your fault; for, if you
had told me, I should have seen you off, and so escaped a
month's hospital, and other troubles that almost drove me
crazy. Don't you abuse that poor young lady before me, or
I shan't spare you. She is more to be pitied than you are.
Folk should look at home for the cause of their troubles:
her misery, and yours, it is all owing to your own folly and
ingratitude: ay, you may look; I mean what I sayingratitude."
The attack was so sudden and powerful, that Henry Little
was staggered and silenced; but an unexpected defender appeared on the scene: one of the folding-doors was torn open,
and Grace darted in.
" How dare you say it is his fault, poor ill-used angel I
No, no, no, no; I am the only one to blame, I didn't love
you as you deserved. I tried to die for you; and failed.
I tried to kill that monster for you; and failed. I am too
weak and silly; I shall only make you more unhappy. Give
me one kiss, my own daring, and then kill me out of the way."
With this she was over his knees, and round his neck in a
moment, weeping, and clutching him with a passionate despair



I1TP  YOOIsrELF IN HIS PLACE.          435
that melted all his anger away, and soon his own tears fell on
her like rain.
"Ah, Grace I Grace 1" he sobbed, " how could you?
how could you? "
" Don't speak unkindly to her," cried Jael, "or she won't be
alive a day. She is worse off than you are; and so is he too."
" You mock me: he is her husband. He can make her
live with him. He can-     "  Here he broke out cursing
and blaspheming, and called Grace a viper, and half thrust
her away from him with horror, and his face filled with jealous
anguish; he looked like a man dying of poison.
Then he rose to his feet, and said, with a sort of dcadly
calm, " Where can I find the man?
" Not in this house, you may be sure," said Jael: "nor in
any house where she is."
Henry sank into his seat again, and looked amazed.
" Tell him all," said Grace. " Don't let him think I do
not love him at all."
" I will," said Jael. "Well, the wedding was at eleven;
your letter came at half-past twelve, and I took it her. Soon
after that, the villain came to her, and she stabbed him directly
with this stiletto. Look at it; there's his blood upon it: I
kept it to show you. I caught her arm, or she would have
killed him, I believe. He lost so much blood, the doctor
would not let him be moved. Then she thought of you still,
and would not pass a night under the same roof with him; at
two o'clock she was on the way to Raby: but Mr. Coventry
was too much of a man to stay in the house and drive her out;
so he went off next morning, and, as soon as she heard that,
she came home. She is wife and no wife, as the saying is,
and how it is all to end, heaven only knows."
" It will end the moment I meet the man: and that won't
be long."
" There! there! " cried Grace, " that is what I feared.
Ah, Jael! Jael! why did you hold my hand?   They would
not have hung me. I told you so at the time: I knew what I
was about."
" Jael," said the young man, " of all the kind things you
have done for me, that was the kindest. You saved my poor
girl from worse trouble than she is now in. No, Grace; you
shall not dirty your hand with such scum as that: it is my
business, and mine only."
In vain did Jael expostulate, and Grace implore. In vain



436

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did Jael assure him that Coventry was in a worse position than
himself, and try to make him see that any rash act of his would
make Grace even more miserable than she was at present. He
replied that he had no intention of running his neck into a
halter; he should act warily, like the Hillsborough trades, and
strike his blow so cunningly, that the criminal should never
know whence it came. "I've been in a good school for
homicide," said he; "and I am an inventor. No man has
ever played the executioner so ingeniously as I will play it.
Think of all this scoundrel has done to me: he owes me a
dozen lives, and I'll take one. Man shall never detect me:
God knows all, and will forgive me, I hope. If He doesn't,
I can't help it."
He kissed Grace again and again, and comforted her; said
she was not to blame; honest people were no match for villains:
if she had been twice as simple, he would have forgiven her at
sight of the stiletto; that cleared her, in his mind, better than
words.
He was now soft and gentle as a lamb. He begged Jael's
pardon humbly, for leaving Hillsborough without telling her.
He said he had gone up to her room; but all was still; and
he was a working man, and the sleep of a working woman was
sacred to him-(he would have awakened a fine lady, without
ceremony). He assured her he had left a note for her in his
box, thanking and blessing her for all her goodness. He said
that he hoped he might yet live to prove by acts, and not by
idle words, how deeply he felt all she had done and suffered for
him.
Jael received these excuses in hard silence.  " That is
enough about me," said she, coldly. "If you are grateful to
me, show it by taking my advice. Leave vengeance to Him
who has said that vengeance is His."
The man's whole manner changed directly, and he said
doggedly,"Well, I will be His instrument."
"He will choose his own."
"I'll lend my humble co-operation."
"Oh, do not argue with him," said Grace, piteously.
"When did a man ever yield to our arguments?  Dearest, I
can't argue: but I am full of misery, and full of fears. You
see my love; you forgive my folly. Have pity on me; think
of my condition: do not doom me to live in terror by night
and day: have I not enough to endure, my own darling



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

487

Tlhere, promise me you will do nothing rash to-night, and that
you will come to me the first thing to-morrow. Why, you have
not seen your mother yet; she is at Raby Hall."
" My dear mother! " said he: " it would be a poor return
for all your love, if I couldn't put off looking for that scum till
I have taken you in my arms."
And so Grace got a reprieve.
They parted in deep sorrow, but almost as lovingly as ever,
and Little went at once to Raby Hall, and Grace, exhausted
by so many emotions, lay helpless on a couch in her own room
all the rest of the day.
For some time she lay in utter prostration, and only the
tears that trickled at intervals down her pale cheeks showed
that she was conscious of her miserable situation.
Jael begged and coaxed her to take some nourishment: but
she shook her head with disgust at the very idea.
For all that, at nine o'clock, her faithful friend almost forced
a few spoonfuls of tea down her throat, feeding her like a
child: and, when she had taken it, she tried to thank her, but
choked in the middle, and, flinging her arms round Jael's neck,
burst into a passion of weeping, and incoherent cries of love,
and pity, and despair. " Oh, my darling! so great! so noble!
so brave! so gentle! And I have destroyed us both. He
forgave me, as soon as he saw me.    So terrible, so gentle!
What will be the next calamity?  Ah, Jael! save him from
that rash act, and I shall never complain; for he was dead,
and is alive again."
" We will find some way to do that between us, you, and I,
and his mother."
" Ah, yes: she will be on my side, in that. But she will
be hard upon me. She will point out all my faults; my
execrable folly. Ah, if I could but live my time over again,
I'd pray night and day for selfishness. They teach us girls to
pray for this and that virtue, which we have too much of
already; and what we ought to pray for is selfishness. But,
no   I must think of my father, and think of that hypocrite;
but the one person whose feelings I was too mean, and base,
and silly to consult, was myself.   I always abhorred this
marriage. I feared it, and loathed it; yet I yielded step by
step, for want of a little selfishness: we are slaves without it,
mean, pitiful, contemptible slaves. 0 God, in mercy give me
Sselfishness I Ah me, it is too late now. I am a lost creature;
nothing is left me but to die,"



438

iPUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

Jael got her to bed, and sleep came at last to her exhausted
body; but, even when her eyes were closed, tears found their
way through the lids, and wetted her pillow.
So can great hearts and loving natures suffer.
Can they enjoy in proportion?
Let us hope so. But I have my doubts.
Henry Little kept his word, and came early next morning.
He looked hopeful and excited; he said he had thought the
matter over and was quite content to let that scoundrel live;
and even to dismiss all thought of him, if Grace really loved
him.
" If I love you!" said Grace. "Oh, Henry, why did I
ask you to do nothing rash, but that I love you? Why did
I attempt his life myself? because you said in your letter--
It was not to revenge myself, but to save you from more
calamity. Cruel, cruel!  Do I love him? "
" I know you love me, Grace: but do you love me enough?
Will you give up the world for me, and let us be happy
together, the only way we can?  My darling Grace, I have
made our fortune; all the world lies before us; I left England
alone, for you; now leave it with me, and let us roam the world
together."
"Henry!-what!-when I cannot be your wife!"
"You can be my wife; my wife in reality, as you are his
In name, and nothing else. It is idle to talk as if we were in
some ordinary situation. There are plenty of countries that
would disown such a marriage as yours, a mere ceremony
obtained by fraud, and cancelled by a stroke with a dagger and
instant separation. Oh, my darling, don't sacrifice both our
lives to a scruple that is out of place here. Don't hesitate;
don't delay. I have a carriage waiting outside; end all our
misery by one act of courage, and trust yourself to me; did I
ever fail you? "
"For shame, Henry, for shame "
"It is the only way to happiness. You were quite right;
if I kill that wretch we shall be parted in another way, always
parted; now we can be together for life. Remember, dearest,
how I begged you in this very room to go to the United
States with me: you refused: well, have you never been sorry
you refused? Now I once more implore you to be wise and
brave, and love me as I love you. What is the world to us?
You are all the world to me."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

4839

"Answer him, Jael, oh answer him! "
"Nay, these are things every woman must answ, r for
herself."
" And I'll take no answer but yours." Then he threw himself at her feet, and clasping her in -his arms, implored her,
with all the sighs and tears and eloquence of passion, to have
pity on them both, and fly at once with him.
She writhed and struggled faintly, and turned away from
him, and fell tenderly towards him, by turns, and still he held
her tight, and grew stronger, more passionate, more persuasive, as she got weaker and almost faint. Her body seemed
on the point of sinking, and her mind of yielding.
But all of a sudden she made a desperate effort. " Let
me go," she cried.  " So this is your love!  With all my
faults and follies, I am truer than you. Shame on your love
that would dishonour the creature you love. Let me go, sir,
I say, or I shall hate you worse than I do the wretch whose
name I bear."
He let her go directly, and then her fiery glance turned to
one long lingering look of deep but tender reproach, and she
fled sobbing.
He sank into a chair, and buried his face in his hands.
After a while, he raised his head, and saw Jael Dence
looking gravely at him.
" Oh, speak your mind," said he, bitterly.
"You are like the world. You think only of yourself:
that's all I have to say."
" You are very unkind to say so. I think for us both:
and she will think with me, in time. I shall come again tomorrow."
He said this with an iron resolution that promised a long
and steady struggle, to which Grace, even in this first encounter, had shown herself hardly equal.
Jael went to her room, expecting to find her as much
broken down as she was by Henry's first visit; but, instead of
that, the young lady was walking rapidly to and fro.
At sight of Jael, she caught her by the hand, and said,
" Well!"
" He is coming again to morrow."
" Is he sorry?"
" Not he."
" Who would have thought he was so wicked?"
This seemed rather exaggerated to Jael; for with all



440

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

Mrs. Little's teaching she was not quite a lady yet in all
respects, though in many things she was always one by nature.
"Let it pass," said she.
"It is a man's part to try,
And a woman's to deny."
"And how often shall I have to deny him I love so
dearly? "
" As often as he asks you to be his mistress; for, call it
what you like, that is all he has to offer you."
Grace hid her face in her hands.
Jael coloured. "Excuse my blunt speaking; but some
times the worst word is the best: fine words are just words
with a veil on."
"Will he dare to tempt me again, after what I said? "
"Of course he will: don't you know him? he never gives
in. But suppose he does, you have your answer ready."
" Jael," said Grace, " you are so strong, it blinds you to
my weakness. I resist him, day after day! I, who pity him
so, and blame myself! Why, his very look, his touch, his
voice, overpower me so that my whole frame seems dissolving:
feel how I tremble at him, even now. No, no; let those resist
who are sure of their strength. Virtue, weakened by love and
pity, has but one resource-to fly. Jael Dence, if you are a
woman, help me to save the one thing I have got left to
save."
" I will," said Jael Dence.
In one hour from that time they had packed a box, and a
carpet-bag, and were on their way to a railway-station. They
left Hillsborough.
In three days Jael returned, but Grace Coventry did not
come back with her.
The day after that trying scene, Henry Little called, not
to urge Grace again, as she presumed he would, but to ask
pardon: at the same time we may be sure of this, that, after a
day or two spent in obtaining pardon, the temptation would
have been renewed, and so on for ever. Of this, however,
Little was not conscious; he came to ask pardon, and offer a
pure and patient love, till such time as heaven should have pity
on them both. He was informed that Mrs. Coventry had quitted
Hillsborough, and left a letter for him. It was offered hiU, he
snatched it and read it:--



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

441

U MY OWN DEAR HENRY,"You have given me something to forgive, and I forgive you without asking, as I hope you will one day forgive
me. I have left Hillsborough, to avoid a situation that was
intolerable, and solicitations which I blushed to hear, and for
which you would one day have blushed too. This parting is
not for ever, I hope: but that rests with yourself. Forego
your idea of vengeance on that man, whose chastisement you
would best alleviate by ending his miserable existence; and learn
to love me honourably and patiently, as I love you. Should
you obtain this great victory over yourself, you will see me
again. Meantime, think of her who loves you to distraction,
and whose soul hovers about you unseen. Pray for me, dear
one, at midnight, and at eight o'clock every morning; for those
are two of the hours I shall pray for you. Do you remember
the old church, and how you cried over me?  I can write nc
more: my tears blind me so. Farewell.
"Your unhappy
" GRACE.."
Little read this piteous letter, and it was a heavy blow to
him; a blow that all the tenderness shown in it could not at
first soften. She had fled from him; she shunned him. It
was not from Coventry she fled; it was from him.
He went home cold, and sick at heart, and gave himself up
to grief and deep regrets for several days.
But soon his powerful and elastic mind, impatient of impotent sorrow, and burning for some kind of action, seized upon
vengeance as the only thing left to do.
At this period he looked on Coventry as a beast in human
ihape, whom he had a moral right to extinguish; only, as he
had not a. legal right, it must be done with consummate art.
He trusted nobody; spoke to nobody; but set himself quietly
to find out where Coventry lived, and what were his habits.
He did this with little difficulty. Coventry lodged in a principal street; but always dined at a club, and returned home
late, walking through a retired street or two; one of these
passed by the mouth of a narrow court that was little used.
Little, disguised as a workman, made a complete reconnaissance of this locality, and soon saw that his enemy was at
his mercy.
But, while he debated within himself what measure of vengeance be should take, and what noiseless weapon he should



&.4l          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
use, an unseen antagonist baffled him. That antagonist was
Grace Carden. Still foreboding mischief, she wrote to Mr.
Coventry, from a town two hundred miles distant:
" Whatever you are now, you were born a gentleman, and
will, I think, respect a request from a lady you have wronged.
Mr. Little has returned, and I have left Hillsborough; if he
encounters you in his despair, he will do you some mortal
injury. This will only make matters worse, and I dread the
scandal that will follow; and to hear my sad story in a court
of law as a justification for his violence. Oblige me, then, by
leaving Hillsborough for a time, as I have done."
On receipt of this, Coventry packed up his portmanteau
directly, and leaving Lally behind to watch the town, and see
whether this was a ruse, he went directly to the town whence
Grace's letter was dated, and to the very hotel.
This she had foreseen and intended.
He found she had been there, and had left for a neighb)uring watering-place: he followed her thither, and there she
withdrew the clue; she left word she was gone to Stirling;
but doubled on him, and soon put hundreds of miles between
them. He remained in Scotland, hunting her.
Thus she played the grey plover with him she hated, and
kept the beloved hands from crime.
When Little found that Coventry had left Hillsborough, he
pretended to himself that he was glad of it.
" My darling is right," said he. " I will obey her, and do
nothing contrary to law. I will throw him into prison, that is
all." With these moderated views, he called upon his friend
Ransome, whom of course he had, as yet, carefully avoided, to
ask his aid in collecting the materials for an indictment. He
felt sure that Coventry had earned penal servitude, if the facts
could only be put in evidence. He found Ransome in low
spirits, and that excellent public servant being informed what
he was wanted for, said drily, " Well, but this will require
some ability: don't you think your friend Silly Billy would be
more likely to do it effectually than John Ransome? "
" Why, Ransome, are you mad? "
" No, I merely do myself justice. Silly Billy smelt that
faulty grindstone; and I can't smell a rat a yard from my nose,
it seems. You shall judge for yourself. There have been
Re.veral burglaries in this town, of late, and planned by a



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

448

master. This put me on my mettle, and I have done all I
could with my small force, and even pried about in person,
night after night, and that is not exactly my business, but I
felt it my duty. Well, sir, two nights ago, no more, 1 had the
luck to come round a corner right upon a job: Alderman Dick's
house, full of valuables, and the windows well guarded; but
one of his cellars is only covered with a heavy wooden shutter,
bolted within. I found this open, and a board wedged in, to
keep it ajar: down I went on my knees, saw a light inside,
and heard two words of thieves' latin; that was enough, you
know; I whipped out the board, jumped on the heavy shutter,
and called for the police."
" Did you expect them to come? "
" Not much. These jobs are timed so as not to secure the
attendance of the police. But assistance of another kind came;
a gentleman full dressed, in a white tie and gloves, ran up,
and asked me what it was. ' Thieves in the cellar,' said I,
and shouted police, and gave my whistle.  The gentleman
jumped on the shutter.  'I can keep that down,' said he.
' I'm sure I saw two policemen in Acorn Street: run quick;'
and he showed me his sword-cane and seemed so hearty in it,
and confident, I ran round the corner, and gave my whistle.
Two policemen came up; but, in that moment, the swell
accomplice had pulled all his palls out of the cellar, and all I
saw of the lot, when I came back, was the swell's swallow-tail
coat flying like the wind towards a back slum, where I and my
bobbies should have been knocked on the head, if we had tried
to follow him; but indeed he was too fleet to give us the
chance."
"Well," said Henry, " that was provoking: but who can
foresee everything all in a moment? I have been worse duped
than that a good many times."
Ransome shook his head. " An old officer of police, like
me, not to smell a swell accomplice. I had only to handcuff
that man, and set him down with me on the shutter, till, in
the dispensation of Providence, a bobby came by."
He added by way of corollary,-" You should send to
London for a detective."
" Not I," said Henry. " I know you for a sagacious man,
and a worthy man, and my friend. I'll have no one to help
me in it but you."
" Won't you? " said Ransome. " Then I'll go in. You
bave done me good, Mr. Little, by sticking to a defeated friend



444          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
like this. Now for your case. tell me all you know, and how
you know it."
Henry complied, and Ransome took his notes. Then he
said, he had got some old memoranda by him, that might
prove valuable: he would call in two days.
He did call, and showed Henry Coventry's cardcase, and
told him he had picked it up close by his letter-box, on the
very night of the explosion. " Mark my words, this will expand
into something," said the experienced officer.
Before he left, he told Henry that he had now every reason
to believe the swell accomplice was Shifty Dick, the most successful and distinguished criminal in England. " I have just
got word from London that he has been working here, and has
collared a heavy swag; says he will go into trade: one of his
old pals let that out in gaol. Trade! then heaven help his
customers, that is all."
"You may catch him yet."
" When I catch Jack-a-lantern. He is not so green as to
stay a day in Hillsborough, now his face has been close to
mine: they all know I never forget a face. No, no; I shall
never see him again, till I am telegraphed for, to inspect his
mug, and his wild-cat eyes in some gaol or other. I must try
and not think of him; it disturbs my mind, and takes off my
attention from my duties."
Ransome adhered to this resolution for more than a month,
during which time he followed out every indication with the
patience of a beagle; and, at last, he called one day, and told
Little, Hill had forfeited his bail, and gone to Canada at the
expense of the trade; but had let out strange things before he
left. There was a swell concerned in his attempt with the bow
and arrow: there was a swell concerned in the explosion, with
some workman, whose name he concealed; he had seen them
on the bridge, and had seen the workman receive a bag of gold,
and had collared him, and demanded his share; this had been
given him, but not until he threatened to call the bobbies.
'; Now, if we could find Hill, and get him to turn Queen's evidence, this, coupled with what you and I could furnish, would
secure your man ten years of penal servitude. I know an
able officer at Quebec.  Is it worth while going to the
-expense? "
Little, who had received the whole communication in a sort
of despondent, apathetic way, replied that he didn't think it
was worth while.  '" My good friend," said he, " I am



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

445

miserable. Vengeance, I find, will not fill a yearning heart.
And the truth is, that all this time I have been secretly hoping
she would return, and that has enabled me to bear up and
chatter about revenge. Who could believe a young creature
like that would leave her father and all her friends for good?
I made sure she would come back in a week or two. And to
think that it is I who have driven her away, and darkened my
own life. I thought I had sounded the depths of misery. I
was a fool to think so. No, no; life would be endurable if I
could only see her face once a day, and hear hex voice, though
it was not even speaking to me. Oh, oh! "
Now this was the first time Little had broken down before
Ransome. Hitherto, he had spoken of Coventry, but not of
Grace; he had avoided speaking of her, partly from manly
delicacy, partly because he foresaw his fortitude would give
way, if he mentioned her.
But now the strong man's breast seemed as if it would
burst, and his gasping breath, and restless body, betrayed what
a price he must have paid for the dogged fortitude he had displayed for several weeks, love-sick all the time.
Ransome was affected: he rose, and walked about the room,
ashamed to look at a Spartan broken down.
When he had given Little time to recover some little composure, he said: " Mr. Little, you were always too much of a
gentleman to gossip about the lady you love; and it was not
my business to intrude upon that subject; it was too delicate.
But, of course, with what I have picked up here and there, and
what you have let drop, without the least intending it, I know
pretty well how the land lies. And, sir, a man does not come
to my time of life without a sore and heavy heart; if I was to
tell you how I came to be a bachelor-; but, no; even after
ten years, I could not answer for myself. All I can say is that,
if you should do me the honour to consult me on something
that is nearer your heart than revenge, you would have all my
sympathy and all my zeal."
" Give me your hand, old fellow," said Little, and broke
down again.
But, this time, he shook it off quickly, and, to encourage
him, Mr. Ransome said, " To begin, you may take my word
Mr. Carden knows, by this time, where his daughter is. Why
not sound him on the matter? "
Henry acted on this advice, and called or Mr. Carden.
He was received very coldly by that gentleman


446

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE,

After some hesitation he asked Mr. Carden if he had ny
news of his daughter.
" I have."
The young man's face was irradiated with joy directly.
"Is she well, sir? "
"Yes."
"Is she happier than she was?"
"She is content."
"Has she friends about her?  Kind, good people; any
persons of her own sex, whom she can love? "
" She is among people she takes for angels, at present.
She will find them to be petty, mean, malicious devils. She is
in a Protestant convent."
" In a convent, where?"
" Whore?  Where neither the fool nor the villain, who
have wrecked her happiness between them, and robbed me of
her, will ever find her. I expected this visit, sir; the only
thing I doubted was which would come first, the villain or the
fool? The fool has come first, and, being a fool, expects me to
tell him where to find his victim, and torture her again. Begone,
fool, from the house you have made desolate by your execrable
folly in slipping away by night like a thief, or rather like that
far more dangerous animal, a fool."
The old man delivered these insults with a purple face, and
a loud fury, that in former days would have awakened corresponding rage in the fiery young fellow. But affliction had
tempered him, and his insulter's hairs were grey.
He said, quietly, "You are her father. I forgive you these
cruel words."  Then he took his hat, and went away.
Mr. Carden followed him to the passage, and cried after
him, " The villain will meet a worse reception than the fool.
I promise you that much."
Little went home despondent, and found a long letter from
his mother, telling him he must dine and sleep at Raby Hall
that day.
She gave him such potent reasons, and showed him so
plainly his refusal would infuriate his uncle, and make her
miserable, that he had no choice. He packed up his dress
suit, and drove to Raby Hall, with a heavy heart, and bitter
reluctance.
0 iwoca mens hominum I



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

447

CHAPTER       XLI.
IT was the great anniversary. On that day Sir Richard Raby
had lost for the Stuarts all the head he possessed. His faithful
descendant seized the present opportunity to celebrate the
event with more pomp than ever. A month before the fatal
day he came in from Hillsborough with sixty yards of violet.
coloured velvet, the richest could be got from Lyons: he put
this down on a table, and told his sister that was for her and
Jael to wear on the coming anniversary. "Don't tell me
there's not enough," said he; " for I inquired how much it
would take to carpet two small rooms, and bought it; now
what will carpet two little libraries will clothe two large ladies;
and you are neither of you shrimps."
While he was thus doing the cynical, nobody heeded him:
quick and skilful fingers were undoing the parcel, and the
ladies' cheeks flushed, and their eyes glistened, and their
fingers felt the stuff inside and out; in which occupation Raby
left them, saying, "Full dress, mind! We Rabys are not
beheaded every day."
Mrs. Little undertook to cut both dresses, and Jael was to
help sew them.
But when they came to be tried on, Jael was dismayed.
"Why, I shall be half naked," said she. " Oh, Mrs. Little,
I couldn't: I should sink with shame."
Mrs. Little pooh-poohed that, and an amusing dialogue followed between these two women, both of them equally modest,
but one hardened, and perhaps a little blinded by custom.
Neither could convince the other, but Mrs. Little overpowered Jael by saying, " I shall wear mine low, and you will
mortally offend my brother, if you don't."
Then Jael succumbed, but looked forward to the day with a
simple terror one would hardly have expected from the general
strength of her character.
Little arrived, and saw his mother for a minute or two
before dinner.  She seemed happy and excited, and said,
" Cheer up, darling, we will find a way to make you happy,
Mark- my words, a new era in your life dates from to-day; I
mean to open your eyes to-night. There, don't question me,
but give me one kiss and let us go and make ourselves splendid
for poor Sir Richaid,"



448           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
When Little came downstairs he found his uncle and a distinguished-looking young gentleman standing before the fire:
both were in full dress. Raby had tho Stuart orders on his
breast, and looked a prince. He introduced Little to Mr.
Richard Raby with high formality; but, before they had time
to make acquaintance, two ladies glided into the room, and
literally dazzled the young men, especially Dissolute Dick, who
knew neither of them.
Mrs. Little, with her oval face, black brow and hair, and
stately but supple form, was a picture of matronly beauty and
grace; her rich brunette skin, still glossy and firm, showed no
signs of age; but under her glorious eyes, were the marks of
trouble, and though her face was still striking and lovely, yet
it revealed what her person concealed, that she was no longer
young. That night she looked about eight-and-thirty.
The other lady was blonde, and had a face less perfect in
contour, but beautiful in its way, and exquisite in colour and
peach-like bloom: but the marvel was her form; her comely
head, dignified on this occasion with a cironet of pearls,
perched on a throat long yet white and massive, and smooth
as alabaster; and that majestic throat sat enthroned on a
snowy bust and shoulders of magnificent breadth, depth, grandeur, and beauty. Altogether it approached the gigantic: but
so lovely was the swell of the broad white bosom, and so
exquisite the white and polished skin of the mighty shoulders
adorned with two deep dimples, that the awe this grand
physique excited was mingled with profound admiration.
Raby and Henry Little both started at the sudden grandeur
and brilliance of the woman they thought they knew, but in
reality had never seen her; and Raby, dazzled himself, presented her, quite respectfully, to Dissolute Dick.
" This is Miss Dence, a lady descended, like the rest of
us, from poor Sir Richard; Miss Dence; Mr. Richard Raby."
Jael blushed more deeply than ladies with white and antique
busts are in the habit of doing, and it was curious to see the
rosy tint come on her white neck, and then die quietly away
again. Yet she curtsied with grace and composure. (Mrs.
Little had trained her at all points; and grace comes pretty
readily, where nature has given perfect symmetry.)
Dinner was announced, and Raby placed the Dissolute
between his sister and the magnificent Beauty dead Sir
Richard had developed.    He even gave a reason for this
arrangement.



PUYT YOZXMSELF IN HIS PLACE.4

4-9

6" All you ladies like a Rake; you praise sober fellows like
me; but what you prefer is a Rake."
As they were rustling into their places, Mrs. Little said
to Dick, with a delicious air of indifference, " Are you a rake,
Mr. Raby?"
" I am anything you like," replied the shameless fellow
All the old plate was out, and blazing in the light of candles
innumerable.
There was one vacant chair.
Dick asked if there was anybody expected.
"Not much," said Raby, drily. " That is Sir Richard's
chair, on these occasions.  However, he may be sitting in it
now, for aught I know. I sincerely hope he is."
" If I thought that, I'd soon leave mine," said Jael in a
tremulous whisper.
"Then stay where you are, Sir Richard," said the Rake,
making an affected motion with his handkerchief, as if to keep
the good Knight down.
In short, tbis personage, being young, audacious, witty,
and animated by the vicinity of the most beautiful creature he
hari ever seen, soon deprived the anniversary of that solemn
character Mr. Raby desired to give it. Yet his volubility, his
gaiety, and his chaff, were combined with a certain gentlemanlike tact and dexterity; and he made Raby laugh in spite of
himself, and often made the ladies smile. But Henry Little
sat opposite, and wondered at them all, and his sad heart
became very bitter.
When they joined the ladies in the drawing-room, Henry
made an effort to speak to Jael Dence. He was most anxious
to know whether she had heard from Grace Carden. But Jael
did not meet him very promptly, and, while he was faltering
out his inquiries, up came Richard Raby, and resumed his
attentions to her: attentions that very soon took the form of
downright love-making.  In fact he stayed an hour after his
carriage was announced, and being a young man of great
resolution, and accustomed to please himself, he fell over head
and ears in love with Miss Dence; and showed it then and
thereafter.
It did not disturb her composure. She had often been
made love to, and could parry as well as Dick could fence.
She behaved with admirable good sense; treated it all as
a polite jest, but not a disagreeable one.
GG



450            PUT YOURSELF IN H11 PLACE.
Mrs. Little lost patience with them both. She drew Henry
aside, and asked him why he allowed Mr. Richard Raby to
monopolize her.
"How can I help it V" said Henry.  "He is in love with
her; and no wonder; see how beautiful she is, and her skin
like white satin. She is ever so much bigger than I thought.
But her heart is bigger than all. Who'd think she had ever
condescended to grind saws with me "
"Who indeed 1 And with those superb arms?"
"Why, that is it, mother; they are up to anything: it
was one of those superb arms she flung round a blackguard's
neck for me, and threw him like a sack; or I should not be
here. Poor girl! Do you think that chatterbox would make
her happy?"
" Heaven forbid! He is not worthy of her. No man is
worthy of her, except the one I mean her to have, and that is
yourself."
" Me, mother! are you mad?"
"No: you are mad, if you reject her. Where can you
hope to find her equal? In what does she fail? In facel
why it is comeliness, goodness, and modesty, personified. In
person? why she is the only perfect figure I ever saw. Such
an arm, hand, foot, neck, and bust, I never saw, all in the
same woman. Is it sense? why she is wise beyond. her years,
and beyond her sux. Think of her great self-denial: she
always loved you, yet aided you, and advised you to get that
mad young thing you preferred to her-men are so blind in
choosing women. Then think of her saving your life: and
then how nearly she lost her own, through her love for youlr
Oh, Henry, if you cling to a married woman, and still turn
away from that angelic creature there, and disappoint your
poor mother again, whose life has been one long disappoint.
ment, I shall begin to fear you were born without a heart."
CHAPTER XLII.
* BETTER for me if I had, then I could chrp and change fron
one to another as you would have me. No, mother; I dare
say if I had never seen Grace I should have loved Jael. An
it is, I have a great affection and respect for her, but that
is all."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              41D
"And those would ripen into love if once you were
married."
"They might. If it came to her flinging that great arm
round my neck in kindness, she once saved my life with by
brute force, I suppose a man's heart could not resist her.
But it will never come to that while my darling lives. She is
my lover, and Jael my sister and my dear friend. God bless
her! and may she be as happy as she deserves. I wish I
could get a word with her: but that seems out of the question
to-night; I shall slip away to bed and my own sad thoughts."
With this he retired unobserved.
In the morning he asked Jael if she would speak to him
alone.
" Why not 1" said she calmly.
They took a walk in the shrubbery.
" I tried hard to get a word with you yesterday, but you
were so taken up with that puppy."
"He is very good company."
"I have seen the time when I was as good; but it is not
so easy to chatter with a broken heart."
" That is true. Please come to the point and tell me what
you want of me now."
This was said in such a curious tone, that Henry felt quite
discouraged.
He hesitated a moment and then said, "What is the
matter with you? You are a changed girl to me.     There's
something about you so cold and severe; it makes me fear I
have worn out my friend as well as lost my love; if it is so,
tell me, and I will not intrude my sorrow any more on you."
There was a noble and manly sadness in the way he said
this, and Jael seemed touched a little by it.
" Mr. Henry," said she, "I'll be frank with you. I can't
forgive you leaving the factory that night without saying a
word to me; and, if you consider what I had done before you
used me so, and what I suffered in consequence of your using
me so-not that you will ever know all I suffered, at least I
hope not-no, I have tried to forgive you; for, if you are a
sinner, you are a sufferer-but it is no use, I can't. I never
shall forgive you to my dying day."
Henry Little hung his head dejectedly. "That is bad
news," he faltered.  " I told you why I did not bid you goodbye except by letter: it was out of kindness. I have begged
your pardon for it all the same. I thought you were an angel;
G2



452          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
but 1 see you are only a woman; you think the time to hit a
man is when he is down. Well, I can but submit,  Good-by.
Stay one moment, let me take your hand, you won't refuse me
that." She did not deign a word; he took her hand and held
it. "' This is the hand and arm that worked with me like a
good mate: this is the hand and arm that overpowered a
blackguard and saved me: this is the hand and arm that saved
my Grace from a prison and public shame. I must give them
both one kiss, if they knock me down for it. There-theregood-by, dear Jael, good-by! I seem to be letting go the last
thing I have to cling to in the deep waters of trouble."
Melted by this sad thought, he held his best friend's hand
till a warm tear dropped on it. That softened her; the hand,
to which he owed so much, closed on him and detained him.
" Stay where you are. I have told you my mind, but I
shall act just as I used to do. I'm not proud of this spite 1
have taken against you, don't you fancy that. There-there,
don't let us fret about what can't be helped; but just you tell
me what I can do for you."
Young Little felt rather humiliated at assistance being
offered on these terms. He did not disguise his mortification.
" Well," said he, rather sullenly, " beggars must not be
choosers. Of course I wanted you to tell me where I am likely
to find her? "
"I don't know."
SBut you left Hillsborough with her? "
"Yes, and went to York. But there I left her, and she
told me she should travel hundreds of miles from York. I have
no notion where she is."
Little sighed. " She could not trust even you."
" The fewer one trusts with a secret the better."
" Will she never return?  Will she give up her father as
well as me? Did she fix no time? Did she give you no hint? "
"No, not that I remember. She said that depended on
you.
SOn me?"
" Yes."
Here was an enigma.
They puzzled over it a long time.  At insw Jael said,
"She wrote a letter to you before she left: did she say nothing
in that?  Have you got the letter? "
" Have I got it?  The last letter my darling ever wrote
to me I Do you think it ever leaves ne night or day? "



PUT YOURSELF IN IIS PLACE.

453

He undid one of his studs, put his hand inside, and drew
the letter out warm from his breast. He kissed it and gave it
to Jael. She read it carefully and looked surprised. " Why,
you are making your own difficulties. You have only got to
do what you are told. Promise not to fall foul of that Coventry,
and not to tempt her again, and you will hear of her. You
have her own word for it."
" But how am I to let her know I promise? "
" I don't know; how does everybody let everybody know
things now-a-days? they advertise."
" Of course they do-in the second      column of The
Times."
" You know best." Then, after a moment's reflection,
' Wherever she is she takes in the Hillsborough papers, to
see if there's anything about you in them."
" Oh, do you think so? "
"Think so?    I am sure of it.   I put myself in her
place."
" Then I will advertise in The Times and the Hillsborough
papers."
He went into the library and wrote several advertisements.
This is the one Jael preferred:" H. L. to G. C. I see you are right. There shall be no
vengeance except what the law may give me, nor will I ever
renew that request which offended you so justly. I will be
patient."
He had added an entreaty that she would communicate
with him, but this Jael made him strike out. She thought that
might make Grace suspect his sincerity. " Time enough to
put that in, a month hence, if you don't hear from her."
This was all I think worth recording in the interview
between Jael and Henry, except that at parting he thanked
her warmly, and said, " May I give you one piece of advice in
return?  Mr. Richard Raby has fallen in love with you, and
no wonder. If my heart was not full of Grace I should have
fallen in love with you myself, you are so good and so beautiful;
but he bears a bad character. You are wise in other people's
affairs, pray don't be foolish in your own."
" Thank you," said Jael, a little drily. " 1 shall think
twice before I give my affections to any young man."
Henry had a word with his mother before he went, and
begged her not to prepare disappointment for herself by trying
to bring Jael and him together. " Besides, she has taken a



454

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

spite against me. To be sure it is not very deep; for she gave
me good advice, and I advised her not to throw herself away
on Dissolute Dick."
Mrs. Little smiled knowingly and looked very much pleased,
but she said nothing more just then. Henry Little returned
to Hillsborough, and put his advertisement in The Times and
the Hillsborough journals.
Two days afterwards, Ransome called on him, with the
Iillsborough Liberal. " Is this yours? " said Ransome.
" Yes. I have reason to think she will write to me, if she
sees it."
"Would you mind giving me your reason?"
Little gave it, but with so much reticence, that no other
man in Hillsborough but Ransome would have understood.
" Hum! " said he, I I think I can do something with this."
A period of expectation succeeded, hopeful at first, and full
of excitement; but weeks rolled on without a word from the
fugitive, and Little's heart sickened with hope deferred. Ho
often wished to consult Jael Dence again; he had a superstitious belief in her sagacity. But the recollection of her cold
manner deterred him. At last, however, impatience and the
sense of desolation conquered, and he rode over to Raby Hall.
He found his uncle and his mother in the dining-room.
Mr. Raby wa3 walking     about looking vexed, and even
irritable.
The cause soon transpired. Dissolute Dick was at that
moment in the drawing-room, making hot love to Jael Dence.
He had wooed her ever since that fatal evening when she
burst on society full-blown. Raby, too proud and generous to
forbid his addresses, had nevertheless been always bitterly
av-erse to them, and was now in a downright rage; for Mrs.
Little had just told him she felt sure he was actually proposing.
" Confound him! " said Henry, " and I wanted so to speak
to her."
Raby gave him a most singular look, that struck him as
odd at the time, and recurred to him afterwards.
At last steps were heard overhead, and Dissolute Dick
came downstairs.
Mrs. Little slipped out, and soon after put her head into
the dining-room to the gentlemen, and whispered to them
" YES."  Then she retired to talk it all over with Jael.
At that monosyllable Mr. Raby was very much discom.
posed.



PUT YOURSELF IN IIIS PLACE.            450
"There goes a friend out of this house; more fools we.
You have lost her by your confounded folly. What is the use
spooning all your days after another man's wife?  I wouldn't
have had this happen for ten thousand pounds. Dissolute
Dick! he will break her heart in a twelvemonth."
" Then why, in heaven's name, didn't you marry her
yourself? "
"Me! at my age? No; why didn't you marry her?
You know she fancies you. The moment you found Grace
married, you ought to have secured this girl, and lived with
me; the house is big enough for you all."
"It is not so big as your heart, sir," said Henry. "But
pray don't speak to me of love or marriage either."
"Why should I?   The milk is spilt; it is no use crying
now. Let us go and dress for dinner. Curse the world-it is
one disappointment."
Little himself was vexed, but he determined to put a good
face on it, and to be very kind to his good friend Jael.
She did not appear at dinner, and when the servants had
retired, he said, " Come now, let us make the best of it.
Mother, if you don't mind, I will settle five thousand pounds
upon her and her children. He is a spendthrift, I hear, and
as poor as Job."
Mrs. Little stared at her son. "Why, she has refused
him."
Loud exclamartons of surprise and satisfaction!
" A fine fright you have given us. You said ' Yes.' "
"Well, that meant he had proposed. You know, Guy, I
had told you he would: I saw it in his eye. So I observed, in
a moment, he had, and I said, 'Yes.' "
"Then why doesn't she come down to dinner?"
"He has upset her. It is the old story: he cried to her,
and told her he had been wild, and misconducted himself, all
because he had never met a woman he could really love and
respect; and then he begged her, and implored her, and said
his fate depended on her."
" But she was not caught with that chaff: so why does she
not come and receive the congratulations of the company on
her escape? "
" Because she is far too delicate;" then, turning to her
son, "and, perhaps, because she can't help comparing the
manly warmth and loving appreciation of Mr. Richard Raby
with the cold indifference and ingratitude of others."



456          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" Oh," said Henry, colouring, "if that is her feeling, she
will accept him next time."
"Next time!" roared Raby. "There shall be no next
time. I have given the scamp fair play, quite against my own
judgment. He has got his answer now, and I won't have the
girl tormented with him  any more.  I trust that to you,
Edith."
Mrs. Little promised him Dick and Jael should not meet
again, in Raby Hall at least.
That evening she drew her son apart and made an earnest
appeal to him.
" So much for her spite against you, Henry. You told her
to decline Richard Raby, and so she declined him. Spite,
indeed! The gentle pique of a lovely, good girl, who knows
her value, though she is too modest to show it openly. Well,
Henry, you have lost her a husband, and she has given you
one more proof of affection.  Don't build the mountain of
ingratitude any higher: do pray take the cure that offers, and
make your mother happy, as well as yourself, my son." In this
strain she continued, and used all her art, her influence, her
affection, till at last, with a weary heart-broken sigh, he yielded
as far as this; he said that, if it could once be made clear to
him there was no hope of his ever marrying Grace Carden, he
would wed Jael Dence at once.
Then he ordered his trap, and drove sullenly home, while
Mrs. Little, full of delight, communicated her triumph to Jael
Dence, and told her about the five thousand pounds, and was
as enthusiastic in praise of Henry to Jael, as she had been of
Jael to Henry.
Meantime he drove back to Hillsborough, more unhappy
than ever, and bitter against himself for yielding, even so far,
to gratitude and maternal influence.
It was late when he reached home: he let himself in with
a latch-key, and went into his room for a moment.
A letter lay on the table, with no stamp on it: he took it
up. It contained but one line; that line made his heart leap.
"News of G. C.
" RANSOMI,"



PUTT YOURSELF IN THIS PLACE.

457

CHAPTER       XLIII.
LATE as it was, Little went to the Town Hall directly. But
there, to his bitter disappointment, he learned that Mr. Ran.
some had been called to Manchester by telegram. Little had
nothing to do but to wait, and eat his heart with impatience.
However, next day, towards afternoon, Ransome called on him
at the works, in considerable excitement, and told him a new
firm had rented large business premises in Manchester, obtained goods, insured them in the " Gosshawk," and then the
premises had caught fire, and the goods been burnt to ashes:
suspicions had been excited; Mr. Garden had gone to the
spot, and telegraphed for him. He had met a London detective there, and, between them, they had soon discovered that
full cases had come in by day, but full sacks gone out by
night: the ashes also revealed no trace of certain goods the
firm  had insured. "And now comes the clue to it all.
Amongst the few things that survived the fire was a photograph-of whom do you think?   Shifty Dick. The dog had
kept his word, and gone into trade."
" Confound him  " said Little: "he is always crossing
my path, that fellow. You seem quite to forget that all this
time I am in agonies of suspense. What do I care about
Shifty Dick? He is nothing to me."
" Of course not. I am full of the fellow: a little more,
and he'll make a monomaniac of me. Mr. Garden offers 2001.
for his capture; and we got an inkling he was coming this
way again. There, there, I won't mention his name to you
again. Let us talk of what will interest you. Well, sir, have
you observed that you are followed and watched? "
" No."
"I am glad of it; then it has been done skilfully. You
have been closely watched this month past by my orders."
This made young Little feel queer. Suppose he had
attempted anything unlawful, his good friend here would have
collared him.
" You'll wonder that a good citizen like you should be
put under surveillance; but I thought it likely your advertisement would either make the lady write to you, or else
draw her back to the town. She didn't write, so I had you
watched, to see if anybody took a sly peep at you. Well,
this went on for weeks, and nothing turned up. But the



05           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
other night a young woman walked several times by your
house, and went away with a sigh. She had a sort of Protestant nun's dress on, and a thick veil. Now you know
Mr. Garden told you she was gone into a convent. I am
almost sure it is the lady."
Little thanked him with all his soul, and then inquired
eagerly where the nun lived.
" Ah, my man didn't know that. Unfortunately, he was
on duty in the street, and had no authority to follow anybody.  However, if you can keep yourself calm, and obey
orders-   "
"I will do anything you tell me."
"Well, then, this evening, as soon as it is quite dark, you
do what I have seen you do in happier times. Light your
reading-lamp, and sit reading close to the window; only you
must not pull down the blind. Lower the venetians, but
don't turn them so as to hide your face from the outside.
You must promise me faithfully not to move under any circumstances, or you would be sure to spoil all."
Little gave the promise, and performed it to the letter.
He lighted his lamp, and tried to read book after book; but,
of course, he was too agitated to fix his attention on them.
He got all Grace's letters, and read them; and it was only
by a stern effort he kept still at all.
The night wore on, and heart-sickness was beginning to
succeed to feverish impatience, when there was a loud knock
at the door. Little ran to it himself, and found a sergeant of
police, who told him in a low voice he brought a message from
the chief constable.
"I was to tell you it is all right; he is following the party
himself. He will call on you at twelve to-morrow morning."
"Not before that? " said Little. However, he gave the
sergeant a sovereign, for good news, and then, taking his
hat, walked twenty miles out of Hillsborough, and back, for
he knew it was useless his going to bed, or trying to settle
to anything.
He got back at ten o'clock, washed, breakfasted, and
dozed on two chairs, till Ransome came, with a carpet-bag
in his hand.
" Tell me all about it: don't omit anything."  This was
Little's greeting.
" Well, sir, she passed the house about nine o'clock,
walking quickly; and took just one glance in at your window,



PUT YOURSE3LF IN   IS PLACE.          459
but did not stop. She came back in half an hour, and stood
on the opposite side of the way, and then passed on. I hid
in a court, where she couldn't see me. By-and-by she comes
back, on your side the way this time, gliding like a cat, and
dhe crouched and curled round the angle of the house, and
took a good look at you. Then she went slowly away, and I
passed her. She was crying bitterly, poor girl. I never lost
sight of her, and she led me a dance, I can tell you. I'll take
you to the place; but you had better let me disguise you; for
I can see she is very timid, and would fly away in a moment,
if she knew she was detected."
Little acquiesced, and Ransome disguised him in a beard,
and a loose set of clothes, and a billy-cock hat, and said that
would do, as long as he kept at a prudent distance from the
lady's eye. They then took a cab and drove out of Hillsborough. When they had proceeded about two miles up the
valley, Ransome stopped the cab, and directed the driver to
wait for them.
He then walked on, and soon came to a row of houses, in
two blocks of four houses each.
The last house of the first block had a bill in the window,
" To be let furnished."
He then knocked at the door, and a woman in charge of
the house opened it.
" 1 am the Chief Constable of Hillsborough: and this is my
friend Mr. Park; he is looking out for a furnished house.
Can he see this one? "
The woman said, " Certainly, gentlemen," and showed
them over the house.
Ransome opened the second-story window, and looked out
on the back garden.
" Ah," said he, "these houses have nice long gardens
in the rear, where one can walk and be private."
He then nudged Henry, and asked the woman who lived
in the first house of the next block; " the house that garden
belongs to? "
' Why, the bill was in the window the other day; but it
is just took. She is a kind of a nun, I suppose: keeps no
servant; only a girl comes in and does for her, and goes
home at night. I saw her yesterday, walking in the garden
there. She seems rather young to be all alone like that; but,
perhaps there's some more of 'em coming. They sort o' cattle
mostly goes in bands."



160          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Herry asked what was the rent of the house.       The
woman did not know, but told him the proprietor lived a few
doors off. " I shall take this house," said Little. "I think
you are right," observed Ransome: "it will just answer your
purpose."  They went together, and took the house directly;
and Henry, by advice of Ransome, engaged a woman to come
into the house in the morning and go away at dusk. Ransome also advised him to make arrangements for watching
Grace's garden unseen. "That will be a great comfort to
you," said he: " I know by experience. Above all things,"
said this sagacious officer, " don't you let her know she is
discovered. Remember this: when she wants you to know
she is here, she'll be sure to let you know. At present she
is here on the sly; so, if you thwart her, she'll be off again
as sure as fate."
Little was forced to see the truth of this, and promised to
restrain himself, hard as the task was. He took the house;
and used to let himself into it with a latch-key at about ten
o'clock every night.
There he used to stay and watch, till past noon: and
nearly every day he was rewarded by seeing the Protestant
nun walk in her garden.
He was restless and miserable till she came out: when she
appeared his heart bounded and thrilled; and when once he
had feasted his eyes upon her, he would go about the vulgar
affairs of life pretty contentedly.
By advice of Ransome, he used to sit in his other house
from seven till nine, and read at the window, to afford his
beloved a joy similar to that he stole himself.
And such is the power of true love that these furtive glances
soothed two' lives. Little's spirits revived, and some colour
came back to Grace's cheek.
One night there was a house broken into in the row.
Instantly Little took the alarm, on Grace's account, and
bought powder and bullets, and a double-barrelled rifle, and a
revolver; and now, at the slightest sound, he would be out of
bed in a moment, ready to defend her, if necessary.
Thus they both kept their hearts above water, and Grace
visited the sick, and employed her days in charity; and then,
for a reward, crept, with soft foot, to Henry's window, and
devoured him with her eyes, and fed on that look for hours
afterwards.
When this had gone on for nearly a month, Lallyv who had



PTIT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.            461
crdrs to keep his eye on Mr. Little, happened to come by and
see Grace looking in at him.
He watched her at a distance, but had not the intelligence
to follow her home. He had no idea it was Grace Garden.
However, in his next letter to his master, who was then in
London, he told him Little always read at night, by the
window, and one night a kind of nun had come and taken a
very long look at him, and gone away crying. "I suspect,"
said Lally, "she has played the fool with him some time or
other before she was a nun."
He was not a little surprised when his master telegraphed
in reply that he would be down by the first train; but the fact
is, that Coventry had already called on Mr. Carden, and been
told that his wife was in a convent, and he would never see
her again. I must add that Mr. Garden received him as
roughly as he had Little, but the interview terminated differently. Coventry, with his winning tongue, and penitence, and
plausibility, softened the indignant father, and then, appealing
to his good sense, extorted from him the admission that his
daughter's only chance of happiness lay in forgiving him, and
allowing him to atone his faults by a long life of humble devotion. But when Coventry, presuming on this, implored him
to reveal where she was, the old man stood staunch, and said
that was told him under a solemn assurance of secrecy, and
nothing should induce him to deceive his daughter. " I will
not lose her love and confidence for any of you," said he.
So now Coventry put that word  convent" and this word
' nun" together, and came to Hillsborough full of suspicions.
He took lodgings nearly opposite Little's house, and
watched, in a dark room so persistently, that, at last, he saw
the nun appear, saw her stealthy, cat-like approaches, her
affected retreat, her cunning advance, her long lingering look.
A close observer of women, he saw in every movement of
her supple body that she was animated by love.
He raged and sickened with jealousy, and when, at last,
she retired, he followed her, with hell in his heart, and never
lost sight of her till she entered her house in the valley.
If there had been a house to let in the terrace, he would
certainly have taken it; but Little had anticipated him.
He took a very humble lodging in the neighbourhood; and,
by dint of watching, he at last saw the nun speaking to a poor
woman with her veil up. It revealed to him nothing but what
he knew already. It was the woman he loved, and she hated



462         VPT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
him; the woman who had married him under a delusion, and
stabbed him on his bridal day. He loved her all the more
passionately for that.
Until he received Lally's note, he had been content to wait
patiently until his rival should lose hope, and carry himself
and his affections elsewhere; he felt sure that must be the end
of it.
But now jealousy stung him wild, passion became too
strong for reason, and he resolved to play a bold and lawless
game to possess his lawful wife. Should it fail, what could
they do to him?  A man may take his own by force. Not
only his passions, but the circumstances tempted him. She
was actually living alone, in a thinly-peopled district, and close
to a road. It was only to cover her head, and stifle her cries,
and fly with her to some place prepared beforehand, where she
would be brought to submission by kindness of manner combined with firmness of purpose.
Coventry possessed every qualification to carry out such a
scheme as this. He was not very courageous; yet he was not
a coward; and no great courage was required.    Cunning,
forethought, and unscrupulousness, were the principal things,
and these he had to perfection.
He provided a place to keep her: it was a shooting-box of
his own, on a heathery hill, that nobody visited except for
shooting, and the season for shooting was passed.
He armed himself with false certificates of lunacy, to show
on an emergency, and also a copy of his marriage certificate:
he knew how unwilling strangers are to interfere between man
and wife.
The only great difficulty was to get resolute men to help
him in this act.
He sounded Cole; but that worthy objected to it, as being
out of his line.
Coventry talked him over, and offered a sum that made
him tremble with cupidity. He assented, on one condition,
that he should not be expected to break into the house, nor do
any act that could be " construed burglarious."  He actually
used that phrase, which I should hardly have expected from him.
Coventry assented to this condition. He undertook to get
into the house, and open the door to Cole and his myrmidons.
he stipulated, however, that Cole should make him a short iron
ladder with four sharp prongs. By means of this he could
enter Grace's house at a certain unguarded part, and then run



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.               463
down and unbar the front door. He had thoroughly recon,
noitred the premises, and was sure of success.
First one day was appointed for the enterprise, then
another, and, at last, it was their luck to settle on a certain
night, of which I will only say at present that it was a night
Hillsborough and its suburbs will not soon forget.
Midnight was the hour agreed on.
Now at nine o'clock of this very night the chief constable
of Hillsborough was drinking tea with Little scarcely twenty
yards from the scene of the proposed abduction. Not that
either he or Little had the least notion of the conspiracy. The
fact is, Hillsborough had lately been deluged with false coin,
neatly executed, and passed with great dexterity.  The police
had received many complaints, but had been unable to trace
it. Lately, however, an old bachelor, living in this suburban
valley, had complained to the police that his neighbours kept
such enormous fires all night as to make his wall red-hot and
blister his paint.
This, and one or two other indications, made Ransome
suspect the existence of a furnace, and he had got a searchwarrant in his pocket, on which, however, he did not think it
safe to act, till he had watched the suspected house late at
night, and made certain observations for himself. So he had
invited himself to tea with his friend Little-for he was sure of
a hearty welcome at any hour-and, over their tea, he now
told him his suspicions, and invited him to come and take a
look at the suspected house with him.
Little consented. But there was no hurry: the later they
went to the house in question the better. So they talked of
other matters, and the conversation soon fell on that which
was far more interesting to Little than the capture of all the
coiners in creation.
He asked Ransome how long he was to go on like this,
contenting himself with the mere sight of her.
" Why," said Ransome, "even that has made another man
of you. Your eye is twice as bright as it was a month ago, and
your colour is coming back. That is a wise proverb, ' Let
well alone.' I hear she visits the sick, and some of them
swear by her. I think I'd give her time to take root here;
and then she will not be so ready to fly off in a tangent."
Little objected that it was more than flesh and blood could
bear.



464          PtT YOUftSELT IN IsS PLACE.
"Well, then," said Ransome, " promise me just one thing.
that, if you speak to her, it shall be in Hillsborough, and not
down here."
Little saw the wisdom of this, and consented, but said he
was resolved to catch her at his own window the next time she
came.
He was about to give his reasons, but they were interrupted by a man and horse clattering up to the door.
" That will be for me," said Ransome. "I thought I
should not get leave to drink my tea in peace."
He was right; a mounted policeman brought him a note
from the mayor telling him word had come into the town that
there was something wrong with Ousely dam. He was to take
the mayor's horse, and ride up at once to the reservoir, and, if
there was any danger, to warn the valley.
"This looks serious," said Ransome. "I must wish you
good-by."
" Take a piece of'advice with you. I hear that dam is too
full; if so, don't listen to advice from anybody, but open the
sluices of the waste-pipes, and relieve the pressure; but if you
find a flaw in the embankment, don't trifle, blow up the wasteweir at uoce with gunpowder. I wish I had a horse, I'd go
with you. By the way, if there is the least danger of that dam
bursting, of course you will give me warning in time, and I'll
get her out of the house at once."
" What, do you think the water would get as far as this, to
do any harm? It is six miles? "
"It might. Look at the form of the ground; it is a
regular trough from that dam to Hillsborough. My opinion is,
it would sweep everything before it, and flood Hillsborough itself-the lower town. I shall not go to bed, old fellow, till you
come back and tell me it is all right."
With this understanding Ransome galloped off. On his
way he passed by the house where he suspected coining. The
shutters were closed, but his experienced eye detected a bright
light behind one of them, and a peculiar smoke from the
chimney.
Adding this to his other evidence, he now felt sure the i:nmates were coiners, and he felt annoyed. "Fine I look,"
said he, " walking tamely past criminals at work, and going to
a mayor's-nest six miles off."
However, he touched the horse with his heel, and canterdo
forward on his errand.



PUT YOURSELF IN HITS PLACE.             465
John Ransome rode up to the Ousely Reservoir, and down
again, in less than an hour and a half; and every incident of
those two rides is imprinted on his memory for life.
He first crossed the water at Poma Bridge. The village of
that name lay on his right, towards Hillsborough, and all the
lights were out except in the two public-houses. One of these,
" The Reindeer," was near the bridge, and from it a ruddy
glare shot across the road, and some boon companions were
singing, in very good harmony, a trite Scotch chorus,We are no that fou, we are no that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw',
But still we'll taste the barley bree."
Ransome could hear the very words; he listened, laughed,
and then rode up the valley till he got opposite a crinoline-wire
factory called the " Kildare Wheel." Here he observed a single
candle burning: a watcher, no doubt.
The next place he saw was also on the 3ther side the
stream: Dolman's farmhouse, the prettiest residence in the
valley. It was built of stone, and beautifully situated on a
promontory between two streams. It had a lawn in front,
which went down to the very edge of the water, and was much
admired for its close turf and flowers. The farm-b1uildings lay
Sehind the house.
There was no light whatever in Dolman's: but they were
early people.  The house and lawn slept peacefully in the
night: the windows were now shining, now dark, for small fleecy
clouds kept drifting at short intervals across the crescent moon.
Ransome pushed on across the open ground, and for a mile
or two saw few signs of life, except here and there a flickering
light in some water-wheel; for now one picturesque dam and
wheel succeeded another as rapidly as Nature permitted; and
indeed the size of these dams, now shining in the fitful moon.
light, seemed remarkable, compared with the mere thread of
water which fed them, and connected them together for miles
like pearls on a silver string.
Ransome pushed rapidly on, up hill and down dale, till he
reached the high hill, at whose foot lay the hamlet of Damflask,
distant two miles from Ousely Reservoir.
He looked down and saw a few lights in this hamlet, some
stationary, but two moving.
" Hum 1" thought Ransome; "they don't seem     to   e
quite so easy in their minds up here."
R II



436           PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
lHe dashed into the place and drew up at a house where
several persons were collected.
As he came up, a singular group issued forth: a man, with
a pig-whip, driving four children-the eldest not above seven
years old-and carrying an infant in his arms. The little imps
were clad in shoes, nightgowns, nightcaps, and a blanket
apiece, and were shivering and whining at being turned out of
bed into the night air.
Ransome asked the man what was the matter.
One of the bystanders laughed, and said, satirically, Ousely
dam was to burst that night, so all the pigs and children were
making for the hill.
The man himself, whose name was Joseph Galton, explained
more fully.
" Sir," said he, " my wife is groaning, and I am bound to
obey her. She had a dream last night she was in a flood, and
had to cross a plank or summut. I quieted her till supper;
but then landlord came round and warned us all of a crack or
summut up at dam. And so now I am taking this little lot up
to my brother's. It's the foolishest job I ever done but needs
must when the devil drives, and it is better so than to have my
old gal sour her milk, and pine her suckling, and maybe fret
herself to death into the bargain."
Ransome seized on the information, and rode on directly to
the village inn. He called the landlord out, and asked him
what he had been telling the villagers. Was there anything
seriously amiss up at the reservoir?
" Nay, I hope not," said the man; "but we got a bit of a
fright this afternoon: a young man rode through, going down
to Hillsborough, and stopped here to have his girth mended;
he had broke it, coming down our hill. While he was taking
a glass he let out his errand: they had found a crack in
the embankment, and sent him down to Hillsborough to tell
Mr. Tucker, the engineer. Bless your heart, we should never
have known aught about it, if his girth hadn't broke." He
added, as a reason for thinking it was not serious, that
Mr. Tucker had himself inspected the dam just before tea-time,
and hadn't even seen the crack. It was a labouring-man who
had discovered it through crossing the embankment lower down
than usual. " But you see, sir," said he, in conclusion, " we
lie very low here, and right in the track; and so we mustn't
make light of a warning. And, of course, many of the workraen stop here, and have their esy; and, to tell you the truth,



PLT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

467

one or two of them have always misliked the foundation that
embankment is built on: too many old landslips to be seen
about. But, after all, I suppose they can empty the dam if
need be; and, of course, they will, if there is any danger. I
expect Mr. Tucker up every minute."
Ransome thanked him for his information and pushed on to
Lower Hatfield: there he found lights in the houses and the
inhabitants astir; but he passed through the village in silenca
and came to the great corn-mill, a massive stone structure with
granite pillars, the pride of the place. The building was full
of lights, and the cranes were all at work hoisting the sacks of
flour from the lower floors to the top story. The faces of the
men reflected in the flaring gas, and the black cranes with
their gaunt arms, and the dark bodies rising by the snake-like
cords, formed a curious picture in the fluctuating moonlight,
and an interesting one too; for it showed the miller did not feel
his flour quite safe.
The next place Ransome came to was Fox Farm.
Farmer Emden was standing at the door of his house, and,
in reply to Ransome, told him he had just come down from the
reservoir. He had seen the crack and believed it to be a mere
frost-crack.  He apprehended no danger, and had sent his
people to bed; however, he should sit up for an hour or two,
just to hear what Tucker the engineer had to say about it; he
had been sent for.
Ransome left him, and a smart canter brought him in sight
of what seemed a long black hill, with great glow-worms dotted
here and there.
That hill was the embankment, and the glow-worms were
the lanterns of workmen examining the outer side of the
embankment ar.d prying into every part.
The enormous size and double slope of the bank, its apparent similarity in form and thickness to those natural barriers
with which nature hems in lakes of large dimensions, acted on
Ransome's senses, and set him wondering at the timidity and
credulity of the people in Hatfield and Damflask. This sentiment was uppermost in his mind when he rode up to the south
side of the embankment.
He gave his horse to a boy and got upon the embankment
and looked north.
The first glance at the water somewhat shook that impression of absoluto security the outer side of the barrier had given
him.



468          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
In nature a lake lies at the knees of the restraining hills,
or else has a sufficient outlet.
But here was a lake nearly full to the brim on one side of
the barrier and an open descent on the other.
He had encountered a little wind coming up, but not much;
here. however, the place being entirely exposed, the wind was
powerful and blew right down the valley, ruffling the artificial
lake.
Altogether it was a solemn scene, and, even at first glance,
one that could not be sur eyed, after all those comments and
reports, without some aw  and anxiety. The surface of the
lake shone like a mirror, and waves of srme size dashed
against the embankment with a louder roar than one would
have thought possible, and tossed some spray clean over all;
while, overhead, clouds, less fleecy now, and more dark and
sullen, drifted so swiftly across the crescent moon that she
seemed flying across the sky.
Having now realized that the embankment, huge as it was,
was not so high by several hundred feet as nature builds in
parallel cases, and that, besides the natural pressure of the
whole water, the upper surface of the lake was being driven by
the wind against the upper or thin part of the embankment,
Ransome turned and went down the embankment to look at the
crack and hear opinions.
There were several workmen, an intelligent farmer called
Ives, and Mr. Mountain, one of the contractors who had built
the dam, all examining the crack.
Mr. Mountain was remarking that the crack was perfectly
dry, a plain proof there was no danger.
" Ay, but," said Ives, "it has got larger since tea-time;
see, I can get my hand in now."
" Can you account for that?" asked Ransome of the contractor.
Mountain said it was caused by the embankment settling.
" Everything settles down a little, houses and embankments
and all. There's no danger, Mr. Ransome, believe me."
" Well, sir," said Ransome, "I am not a man of science,
but I have got eyes, and I see the water is very high, and
driving against your weak part.  Ah i"  Then he remembered Little's advice. "Would you mind opening the sluicepipes? "
" Not in the least, but I think it is the engineer's business
to give an order of that kind."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

469

" But he is not here, and professional etiquette must give
way where property and lives, perhaps, are at stake. To tell
you the truth, Mr. Mountain, I have got the advice of an abler
man than Mr. Tucker. His word to me was,' If the water is
as high as they say, don't waste time, but open the sluices at
once and relieve the dam.' "
The workmen, who had said scarcely a word till then, raised
an assenting murmur at the voice of common sense.
Mountain admitted it could do no harm, and gave an order
accordingly; screws were applied and the valves of the double
set of sluice-pipes were forced open, but with infinite difficulty,
owing to the tremendous pressure of the water.
This operation showed all concerned what a giant they were
dealing with: while the sluices were being lifted, the noise and
tremor of the pipes were beyond experience and conception.
When, after vast efforts, they were at last got open, the
ground trembled violently, and the water, as it rushed out of
the pipes, roared like discharges of artillery. So hard is it to
resist the mere effect of the senses, that nearly everybody ran
back appalled, although the effect of all this roaring could only
be to relieve the pressure: and, in fact, now that those sluices
were opened, the dam was safe, provided it could last a day
or two.
Lights were seen approaching, and Mr. Tucker, the resident
engineer, drove up: he had Mr. Carter, one of the contractors,
in the gig with him.
He came on the embankment, and signified a cold approval
of the sluices being opened.
Then Ransome sounded him about blowing up the wasteweir.
Tucker did not reply, but put some questions to a workman
or two. Their answers showed that they considered the enlargement of the crack a fatal sign.
Upon this Mr. Tucker ordered them all to stand clear of
the suspected part.
" Now, then," said he, " I built this embankment, and I'll
tell you whether it is going to burst or not."
Then he took a lantern, and was going to inspect the crack
himself: but Mr. Carter, respecting his courage and coolness,
would accompany him. They went to the crack, examined it
carefully with their lanterns, and then crossed over to the wasteweir: no water was running into it in the ordinary way, which
showed the dam was not full to its utmost capacity.



4''0         PUT YOURSELF IN 1IS PLACE.
They returned, and consulted with Mountain.
Ransome put in his word, and, once more remembering
Little's advice, begged them to blow up the waste-weir.
Tucker thought that was a stronger measure than the
occasion required; there was no immediate danger: and the
sluice-pipes would lower the water considerably in twenty-four
hours.
Farmer Ives put in his word.  "I can't learn from any of
you that an enlarging crack in a new embankment is a common
thing. I shall go home, but my boots won't come off this night."
Encouraged by this, Mr. Mountain, the contractor, spoke
out.
"Mr. Tucker," said he, "don't deceive yourself; the
sluice-pipes are too slow; if we don't relieve the dam, there'll
be a blow up in half-an-hour: mark my words."
" Well," said Mr. Tucker, "no precaution has been
neglected in building this dam; provision has been made even
for blowing up the waste-weir: a hole has been built in the
masonry, and there's dry powder and a fuse kept at the valve.
house. I'll blow up the waste-weir, though I think it needless.
I am convinced that crack is above the level of the water in
the reservoir."
This observation struck Ransome, and he asked if it could
not be ascertained by measurement.
" Of course it can," said Tucker: " and I'll measure it as
I come back."
He then started for the weir, and Carter accompanied him.
They crossed the embankment, and got to the weir.
Ives went home, and the workmen withdrew to the side,
Snot knowing exactly what might be the effect of the explosion.
By-and-by, Ransome looked up, and observed a thin sheet
of water beginning to stream over the centre of the embankment, and trickle down: the quantity was nothing; but it
alarmed him. Having no special knowledge on these matters,
he was driven to comparisons; and it flashed across him, that,
when he was a boy, and used to make little mud-dams in April,
they would resist the tiny stream until it trickled over them,
and from that moment their fate was sealed. Nature, he had
3bserved, operates alike in small things and great, and that
sheet of water, though thin as a wafer, alarmed him.
He thought it was better to give a false warning than withhold a true one: he ran to his horse, jumped on him, and
spurred away.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

471

His horse was fast and powerful, and carried him in three
minutes back to Emden's farm. The farmer had gone to bed.
Ransome knocked him up, and told him he feared the dam was
going; then galloped on to Hatfield Mill. Here he found the
miller and his family all gathered outside, ready for a start;
one workman had run down from the reservoir.
" The embankment is not safe."
" So I hear. I'll take care of my flour, and my folk. The
mill will take care of herself." And he pointed with pride to
the solid structure and granite pillars.
Ransome galloped on, shouting as he went.
The shout was taken up ahead, and he heard a voice
crying in the night, "IT's COMING! IT'S COMING!"   This
weird cry, which, perhaps, his own galloping and shouting had
excited, seemed like an independent warning, and thrilled him
to the bone. He galloped through Hatfield, shouting " Save
yourselves! Save yourselves " and the people poured out,
and ran for high ground, shrieking wildly; looking back he
saw the hill dotted with what he took for sheep at first; but it
was the folk in their night-clothes.
He galloped on to Damflask, still shouting as he went.
At the edge of the hamlet, he found a cottage with no light
in it; he dismounted and thundered at the door.  "Escape
for your lives! for your lives! "
A man, called Hillsbro' Harry, opened the window.
"The embankment is going. Fly for your lives! "
"Nay," said the man, coolly, " Ousely dam will brust
noane this week," and turned to go to bed again.
He found Joseph   Galton and another man carrying
Mrs. Galton and her new-born child away in a blanket. This
poor woman, who had sent her five children away on the faith
of a dream, was now objecting, in a faint voice, to be saved
herself from evident danger. " Oh dear, dear! you might
as well let me go down with the flood as kill me with taking
me away."
Such was the sapient discourse of Mrs. Galton, who, half
an hour ago, had been supernaturally wise and prudent. Go
to, wise mother and silly woman, men will love thee none the
less for the inequalities of thine intellect; and honest Joe will
save thy life, and heed thy twaddle no more than the bleating
of a lamb,
hansome had not left the Galtons many yards behind him,
when there was a sharp explosion heard up in the hills



47P PUT YOUtSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Ransome pulled up and said aloud, " It will be all right
new, thank goodness! they have blown up the weir."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when he heard a
loud sullen roar, speedily followed by a tremendous hiss, and a
rumbling thunder, that shook the very earth where he stood,
two miles distant.
This is what had taken place since he left the reservoir but
ten minutes ago.
Mr. Tucker and Mr. Carter laid the gunpowder and the
train, and lighted the latter, and came back across the middle
of the embankment.
Being quite safe here from the effect of the explosion,
Mr. Tucker was desirous to establish by measurement that the
water in the reservoir had not risen so high as the crack in the
embankment.
With this view he took out a measure, and at some risk of
being swept into eternity, began coolly to measure the crack
downwards.
At this very time water was trickling over; and that
alarmed Carter, and he told Tucker they were trifling with
their own lives.
" Oh," said Tucker, "that is only the spray from the waves."
They actually measured the crack, stooping over it with
their lanterns.
When they had done that, Carter raised his head, and
suddenly clutched Tucker by the arm, and pointed upwards.
The water was pouring over the top, still in a thin sheet, but
then that sheet was gradually widening. The water came down
to their feet, and some of it disappeared in the crack; and the
crack itself looked a little larger than when last inspected.
Tucker said, gravely, " I don't like that: but let me examine
the valve-house at once."  He got down to the valve-house,
but before he could ascertain what quantity of water was
escaping, Carter called to him, "Come out, for God's sake, or
you are lost! "
He came running out, and saw an opening thirty feet wide
and nearly a foot deep, and a powerful stream rushing over it.
The moment Tucker saw that, he cried, " It's all up, the
embankment must go!"     And, the feeling of the architect
overpowering the instincts of the man, he stood aghast.  But
Carter laid hold of him, and dragged him away.
Then he eama to himself, anC they ran across the embaukment.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             478
As they started, the powder, which had hung fire unaccountably, went off, and blew up the waste-weir: but they
scarce heard it; for, as they ran, the rent above kept enlarging and deepening at a fearful rate, and the furious stream
kept rushing past their flying heels, and threatened to sweep
them sideways to destruction.
They were safe at last; but even as they stood panting,
the rent in the top of the embankment spread-deepenedyawned terrifically-and the pent-up lake plunged through, and
sweeping away at once the centre of the embankment, rushed,
roaring and hissing, down the valley, an avalanche of water,
whirling great trees up by the roots, and sweeping huge rocks
away, and driving them, like corks, for miles.
At that appalling sound, that hissing thunder, the like of
which he had never heard before, and hopes never to hear
again, Ransome spurred away at all his speed, and warned the
rest of the village with loud inarticulate cries; he could not
wait to speak, nor was it necessary.
At the top of the hill he turned a moment, and looked up
the valley; soon he saw a lofty white wall running down on
Hatfield Mill: it struck the mill, and left nothing visible but
the roof, surrounded by white foam.
Another moment, and he distinctly saw the mill swim a
yard or two, then disappear, and leave no trace, and on came
the white wall, hissing and thundering.
Ransome uttered a cry of horror, and galloped madly forward, to save what lives he might.
Whenever he passed a house he shrieked his warning, but
he never drew rein.
As he galloped along his mind worked. He observed the
valley widen in places, and he hoped the flying lake would
spread, and so lose some of that tremendous volume and force
before which he had seen Hatfield stone mill go down.
With this hope he galloped on, and reached Poma Bridge,
five miles and a half from the reservoir.
Here, to his dismay, he heard the hissing thunder sound as
near to him as it was when lie halted on the hill above Damflask: but he could see nothing, owing to a turn in the valley.
At the bridge itself, he found a man standing, without his
hat, staring wildly up the valley.
He yelled to this man, " Dam is burst. Warn the village
-for their lives-run on to Hillsborough-when you are



474          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
winded, send another on. You'll all be paid at tLe Town
Hall."
Then he dashed across the bridge.
As he crossed it, he caught sight of the flying lake once
more: he had gone over more ground, but he had gone nc
farther. He saw the white wall strike Dolman's farm; there
was a light in one window now. He saw the farmhouse, with
its one light, swim bodily, then melt and disappear, with all
the poor souls in it.
He galloped on; his hat flew off: he came under the
coiners' house, and yelled a warning. A window was opened,
and a man looked out; the light was behind him, and, even in
that terrible moment, he recognized-Shifty Dick.
" The flood! the flood! Fly! Get on high ground, for
your lives "
He galloped furiously, and made for Little's house.
CHAPTER       XLIV.
LITTLE took a book, and tried to while away the time till
Ransome's return; but he could not command his attention.
The conversation about Grace had excited a topic which excluded every other.
He opened his window, a French casement, and looked out
upon the night.
Then he observed that Grace, too, was keeping vigil; for
a faint light shot from her window, and sparkled on the
branches of the plane-tree in her little front garden.
"And that," thought Henry, sadly, "is all I can see of
her. Close to her, yet far off,-farther than ever now."
A deep sadness fell on him, sadness and doubt. Suppose
he were to lay a trap for hzr to-morrow, and catch her at her
own door! What good would it do?   He put himself in her
place. That process showed him at once she would come no
more. He should destroy her little bit of patient, quiet happiness, the one daily sunbeam of her desolate life.
By-and-by, feeling rather drowsy, he lay down in his clothes
to wait for Ransome's return. He put out his light.
From his bed he could see Grace's light kiss the plane-tree.
He lay, and fixed his eyes on it, and thought of all that



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

475

had passed between them; and, by-and-by, love and grief
made his eyes misty, and that pale light seemed to dance and
flicker before him.
Aboit midnight, he was nearly dozing off, when his ear
caught a muttering outside; he listened, and thought he heard
some instrument grating below.
He rose very softly, and crept to the window, and looked
keenly through his casement.
He saw nothing at first; but presently a dark object
emerged from behind the plane-tree I have mentioned, and
began to go slowly, but surely, up it.
Little feared it was a burglar, about to attack that house
which held his darling.
He stepped softly to his rifle, and loaded both barrels. It
was a breech-loader. Then he crawled softly to the window,
and peered out, rifle in hand.
The man had climbed the tree, and was looking earnestly
in at one of the windows in Grace's house. His attention was
so fixed that he never saw the gleaming eye which now watched
him.
Presently the drifting clouds left the moon clear a minute,
and Henry Little recognized the face of Frederick Coventry.
He looked at him, and began to tremble.
Why did he tremble?    Because-after the first rush of
surprise-rage, hate, and bloody thoughts crossed his mind.
Here was his enemy, the barrier to his happiness, come of his
own accord, to court his death. Why not take him for a
burglar, and shoot him dead?  Such an act might be blamed,
but it could not be punished severely.
The temptation was so great, that the rifle shook in his
hands, and a cold perspiration poured down his back.
He prayed to God in his agony to relieve him from this
temptation; he felt that it was more than he could bear.
He looked up.    Coventry was drawing up a short iron
ladder from below. He then got hold of it, and fixed it on the
sill of Grace's window.
Little burst his own window open.  " You villain! " he
cried, and levelled his rifle at him.
Coventry uttered a yell of dismay. Grace opened her window, and looked out, with a face full of terror.
At sight of her, Coventry cried to her in abject terror.
'Mercy I mercy! Don't let him shoot me."



476          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Grace looked round, and saw Henry aiming at Coventry.
She screamed, and Little lowered the rifle directly.
Coventry crouched directly in the fork of the tree.
Grace looked bewildered from one to the other; but it was
to Henry she spoke, and asked him in trembling tones what it
' all meant."
But, ere either could make a reply, a dire sound was heard
of hissing thunder: so appalling that the three actors in this
strange scene were all frozen and rooted where they stood.
Then came a fierce galloping, and Ransome, with his black
hair and beard flying, and his face like a ghost, reined up, and
shouted wildly, " Dam burst   Coming down here I Fly for
ycur lives! Fly! "
Ho turned, and galloped up the hill.
Cole and his mate emerged, and followed him, howling;
but before the other poor creatures, half paralyzed, could do
anything, the hissing thunder was upon them. What seemed
a mountain of snow came rolling, and burst on them with
terrific violence, whirling great trees and fragments of houses
past with incredible velocity.
At the first blow, the house that stood nearest to the flying
lake was shattered; and went to pieces soon after: all the
houses quivered as the water rushed round them two stories
high.
Little never expected to live another minute; yet, in that
awful moment, his love stood firm. He screamed to Grace,
" The houses must go!-the tree!-the tree!-get to the
tree! "
But Grace, so weak at times, was more than mortal strong
at that dread hour.
" What, live with him," she cried, " when I can die with
you! "
She folded her arms, and her pale face was radiant-no
hope, no fear.
Now came a higher wave, and the water reached above the
window-sills of the bedroom floor, and swept away the ladder;
yet, driven forward like a cannon-bullet, did not yet pour into
the bedrooms from the main stream: but by degrees the furious
flood broke, melted, and swept away the intervening houses,
and then hacked off the gable-end of Grace's house, as if
Leviathan had bitten a piece out. Through that aperture the
flood came straight in, levelled the partitions at a blow, burst
into the upper rooms with fearful roar, and then, rushing out



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

477

again to rejoin the greater body of water, blew the front wall
clean away, and swept Grace out into the raging current.
The water pouring out of the house carried her, at first,
towards the tree, and Little cried wildly to Coventry to save
her.  He awoke from his stupor of horror, and made an
attempt to clutch her; but the main force of the mighty water
drove her away from him towards the house; her helpless body
was whirled round and round three times by the struggling
eddies, then hurried away like a feather by the overwhelming
torrent.
CHAPTER       XLV.
THE mighty reflux, which, after a short struggle, overpowered
the rush of water from the windows, and carried Grace Carden's
helpless body away from the tree, drove her of course back
towards the houses, and she was whirled past Little's window
with fearful velocity, just as he was going to leap into the flood,
and perish in an insane attempt to save her. With a loud cry
he seized her by her long floating hair, and tried to draw her
in at the window; but the mighty water pulled her from him
fiercely, and all but dragged him in after her; he was only
saved by clutching the side of the wall with his left hand:
the flood was like some vast solid body drawing against him;
and terror began to seize on his heart. He ground his teeth;
he set his knee against the horizontal projection of the window;
and that freed his left hand; he suddenly seized her arm with
it, and, clutching it violently, ground his teeth together, and,
throwing himself backward with a jerk, tore her out of the
water by an effort almost superhuman. Such was the force
Sexerted by the torrent on one side, and the desperate lover on
the other, that not her shoes only, but her stockings, though
gartered, were torn off her in that fierce struggle.
HIe had her in his arms, and cried aloud, and sobbed over
her, and kissed her wet cheeks, her lank hair, and her wet
clothes, in a wild rapture. He went on kissing her and
sobbing over her so wildly and so long, that Coventry, who had
9st first exulted with him at her rescue, began to rage with
jealousy.
" Please remember she is my wife," he shrieked: " don't
take advantage of her condition, villain."



178          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE
"Your wife, you scoundrel! You stole her from me once;
now come and take her from me again. Why didn't you save
her?  She was as near to you. You let her die: she lives by
me, and for me, and I for her."   With this he kissed her
again, and held her to his bosom. " D'ye see that? liar
coward! villain! "
Even across that tremendous body of rushing death, from
which neither was really safe, both rivals' eyes gleamed hate at
each other.
The wild beasts that a flood drives together on to some
little eminence, lay down their natures, and the panther
crouches and whimpers beside the antelope: but these were
men, and could entertain the fiercest of human passions in the
very jaws of death.
To be sure it was but for a moment; a new danger soon
brought them both to their senses: an elm-tree whirling past
grazed Coventry's plane-tree; it was but a graze, yet it nearly
shook him off into the flood, and he yelled with fear: almost
at the same moment a higher wave swept into Little's room,
and the rising water set every thing awash, and burst over him
as he kneeled with Grace. He got up drenched and half
blinded with the turbid water, and, taking Grace in his arms,
waded waist-high to his bed, and laid her down on it.
It was a moment of despair. Death had entered that
chamber in a new, unforeseen, and inevitable form.   The
ceiling was low, the water was rising steadily; the bedstead
floated; his chest of drawers floated, though his rifle and
pistols lay on it, and the top drawers were full of these tools he
always had about him: in a few minutes the rising water must
inevitably jam Grace and him against the ceiling, and drown
them like rats in a hole.
Fearful as the situation was, a sickening horror was added
to it by the horrible smell of the water; it had a foul and
appalling odour, a compound of earthiness and putrescence;
it smelt like a newly opened grave; it paralysed like a serpent'.
breath.                                             l
Stout as young Little's heart was, it fainted now, when he
saw his bedstead, and his drawers, and his chairs, all slowly
rising towards the ceiling, lifted by that cold, putrescent, liquid
death.
But all men, and even animals, possess greater powers of
mind, as well as of body, than they ever exert, unless compelled
by dire noeessity: and it would havo been strange indeed if a



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

479

heart so staunch, and a brain so inventive, as Little's, had let
Grace Carden die like a rat drowned in a hole-without some
new and masterly attempt first made to save her.
To that moment of horror and paralysis succeeded an
activity of mind and body almost incredible. He waded to
the drawers, took his rifle, and fired both barrels at one
place in the ceiling, bursting a hole, and cutting a narrow joist
almost in two. Then he opened a drawer, got an axe and a
saw out, and tried to wade to the bed; but the water now took
him off his feet, and he had to swim to it instead; he got on
it, and with his axe and his saw he contrived to paddle the
floating bed under the hole in the ceiling, and then with a few
swift and powerful blows of his axe soon enlarged that aperture
sufficiently: but, at that moment, the water carried the bedstead away from the place.
He set to work with his saw and axe, and paddled back
again.
Grace, by this time, was up on her knees, and in a voice,
the sudden firmness of which surprised and delighted him,
asked if she could help.
" Yes," said he, " you can. On with my coat."
It lay on the bed. She helped him on with it, and then he
put his axe and saw into the pockets, and told her to take hold
of his skirt.
He drew himself up through the aperture, and Grace,
holding his skirts with her hands and the bed with her feet,
climbed adroitly on to the head of the bed-a French bed
made of mahogany-and Henry drew her through the aperture.
They were now on the false ceiling, and nearly jammed
against the roof: Little soon hacked a great hole in that, just
above the parapet, and they crawled out upon the gutter.
They were now nearly as high as Coventry on his tree; but
their house was rocking, and his tree was firm.
In the next house were heard the despairing shrieks of
poor creatures, who saw no way of evading their fate; yet the
way was as open to them as to this brave pair.
" Oh, my angel," said Grace, "save them. Then if you
die, you go to God."
" All right," said Henry. " Come on."
They darted down the gutter to the next house. Little
hacked a hole in the slates, and then in the woodwork, and
was about to jump in, when the house he had just left
tumbled all to pieces, like a house of sugar, and the debrii



480

PUT YOURSELF 1N HIS PLAGIM

went floating by, including the bedstead that had helped to
save them.
"Oh, God! " cried Little, " this house will go next; run
on to the last one."
"No, Henry, I would rather die with you than live alone.
Don't be frightened for me. Save lives, and trust to Jesus."
" All right," said Little; but his voice trembled now.
He jumped in, hacked a hole in the ceiling, and yelled to
the inmates to give him their hands.
There was a loud cry of male and female voices.
" My child first," cried a woman, and threw up an infant,
which Little caught, and handed to Grace. She held it, wailing,
to her breast.
Little dragged five more souls up. Grace helped them out,
and they ran along the gutter to the last house without saying
"Thank you."
The house was rocking. Little and Grace went on to the
next, and he smashed the roof in, and then the ceiling, and
Grace and he were getting the people out, when the house
they had just left melted away, all but a chimney-stack,
which adhered in jagged dilapidation to the house they were
now upon.
They were now upon the last. Little hacked furiously
through the roof and ceiling, and got the people out: and now
twenty-seven souls crouched in the gutter, or hung about the
roof of this one house; some praying, but most of them
whining and wailing.
" What is the use howling? " groaned Little.
He then drew his Grace to his panting bosom; and his face
was full of mortal agony.
She consoled him. " Never mind, my angel. God has seen
you. He is good to us, and lets us die together."
At this moment the house gave a rock, and there was a
fresh burst of wailing.
This, connected with his own fears, enraged Henry.
" Be quiet," said he, sternly.  "Why can't you die
decently, like your betters? "
Then he bent his head in noble silence over his beloved,
and devoured her features as those he might never see again.
At this moment was heard a sound like the report of a gun;
a large tree, whirled down by the flood, struck the plane-tree
just below the fork, and cut it ii two, as promptly as a scythe
would go through a carrot.



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.              481
It drove the upper part along, and, going with it, kept it
perpendicular for some time: the white face and glaring eyes
of Frederick Coventry sailed past those despairing lovers; he
made a wild clutch at them, then sank in the boiling current,
and was hurried away.
This appalling incident silenced all who saw it, for a
moment. Then they began to wail louder than ever.
But Little started to his feet, and cried " Hurrah!"
There was a general groan.
" Hold your tongues," he roared. " I've got good news
for you. The water was over the top windows; now it is an
inch lower. The reservoir must be empty by now. The water
will go down as fast as it rose. Keep quiet for two minutes,
and you will see."
Then no more was heard, but the whimpering of the
women, and, every now and then, the voice of Little; he hung
over the parapet, and reported every half-minute the decline of
the water; it subsided with strange rapidity as he had foreseen.
In three minutes after he had noticed the first decline, he
took Grace down through the roof, on to the second floor.
When Grace and Henry got there, they started with dismay:
the danger was not over: the front wall was blown clean out
by the water; all but a great jagged piece shaped like a
crescent, and it seemed a miracle that the roof thuwveakened
and crowded with human beings, had not fallen in.
" We must get out of this," said Little. " It all hangs
together by a thread."
He called the others down from the roof, and tried to get
down by the staircase, but it was broken into sections and
floating about.
Then he cut into the floor near the wall, and to his infinite
surprise, found the first floor within four feet of him. The flood
had lifted it bodily, more than six feet.
He dropped on to it, and made Grace let herself down to
him, he holding her round the waist, and landing her light as
a feather.
Henry then hacked through the door, which was jammed
tight; and, the water subsiding, presently the wrecks of the
staircase left off floating, and stuck in the mud and water: by
this means they managed to get down, and found themselves
in a layer of mud, and stones, and debris, ali e and dead, such
as no imagination had hitherto conceived.
prseading, however to remain in a house so disembowelled
IIT



482          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
within, and so shattered without, that it seemed to survive by
mere cohesion of mortar, he begged Grace to put her arm round
his neck,-and then lifted her and carried her out into the night.
" Take me home to papa, my love," said she.
He said he would; and tried to find his way to the road
which he knew led up the hill to Woodbine Villa. But all
landmarks were gone; houses, trees, hedges, all swept away;
roads covered three feet thick with rocks, and stones, and
bricks, and carcasses. The pleasant valley was one horrid
quagmire, in which he could take few steps, burdened as he
was, without sticking, or stumbling against some sure sign of
destruction and death: within the compass of fifty yards he
found a steam-boiler and its appurtenances (they must have
weighed some tons, yet they had been driven more than a
mile), and a dead cow, and the body of a waggon turned
upside down: [the wheels of this same waggon were afterwards found fifteen miles from the body].
He began to stagger and pant.
" Let me walk, my angel," said Grace. "I'm not a baby."
She held his hand tight, and tried to walk with him step by
step. Her white feet shone in the pale moonlight.
They made for rising ground, and were rewarded by finding
the debris less massive.
"Theefood must have been narrow hereabouts," said
Harry. " We shall soon be clear of it, I hope."
Soon after this they came under a short but sturdy oak that
had survived; and, entangled in its close and crooked branches,
was something white. They came nearer; it was a dead body:
some poor man or woman hurried from sleep to Eternity.
They shuddered and crawled on, still making for higher
ground, but sore perplexed.
Presently they heard a sort of sigh. They went towards it,
and found a poor horse stuck at an angle; his efforts to escape
being marred by a heavy stone to which he was haltered.
Henry patted him, and encouraged him, and sawed through
his halter: then he struggled up, but Henry held him, and put
Grace on him. She sat across him and held on by the mane.
The horse, being left to himself, turned back a little, and
crossed the quagmire till he got into a bridle-road, and this
landed them high and dry on the turnpike.
Here they stopped, and by one impulse, embraced each
other, and thanked God for their wonderful escape.
But soon Hitry's exultation took a turn that shockod



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

Grace's religious sentiments, which recent acquaintances had
strengthened.
"Yes," he cried, "now I believe that God really does
interpose in earthly things; I believe everything; yesterday I
believed nothing. The one villain is swept away, and we two
are miraculously saved. Now we can marry to-morrow-no,
to-day, for it is past midnight. Oh, how good He is, especially
for killing that scoundrel out of our way. Without his death,
what was life worth to me? But now-0 heavens! is it all e
dream? Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! "
" Oh, Henry, my love " said Grace, imploringly, " pray,
pray, do not offend Him by rejoicing at such a moment over
the death, perhaps the everlasting death, of a poor, sinful,
fellow-creature."
" All right, dearest. Only don't let us descend to hypocrisy.
I thank heaven he is dead, and so do you."
" Pray, don't say so."
" Well, I won't: let him go. Death settles all accounts.
Did you see me stretch out my hand to save him? "
" I did, my angel, and it was like you: you are the noblest
and the greatest creature that ever was, or ever will be."
" The silliest, you mean. I wondered at myself, next
minute. Fancy me being such an idiot as to holt out a hand
to save him, and so wither both our lives-yours and mine;
but I suppose it is against nature not to hold out a hand.
Well, no harm came of it, thank heaven."
" Let us talk of ourselves," said Grace, lovingly. " My
darling, let no harsh thought mar the joy of this hour. You
have saved my life again. Well, then, it is doubly yours.
Here, looking on that death we have just escaped, I devote
myself to you. You don't know how I love you; but you
shall. I adore you."
" I love you better still."
" You do not: you can't. It is the one thing I can beat
you at, and I will."
" Try. When will you be mine?"
" I am yours. But, if you mean when will I marry you,
why, whenever you please. We have suffered too cruelly, and
loved too dearly, for me to put you off a single day for affenta.
tions and vanities. When you please, my own."
At this Henry kissed her little white feet with rapture, and
kept kissing them, at intervals, all the rest of the way:.nd
tho horrors of the night ended, to the~s two, in uautterabl
(                     n^9



484          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
rapture, as they paced slowly along to Woodbine Villa, with
hearts full of wonder, gratitude, and joy.
Here they found lights burning, and learned from a servant
that Mr. Carden was gone down to the scene of the flood in
great agitation.
Henry told Grace not to worry herself, for that he would
find him and relieve his fears.
He then made Grace promise to go to bed at once, and to
lie within blankets. She didn't like that idea, but consented.
" It is my duty to obey you now, in everything," said she.
Henry left her, and ran down to the Town Hall.
He was in that glorious state of bliss, in which noble minds
long to do good actions; and the obvious thing to do was to
go and comfort the living survivors by the terrible disaster he
had so narrowly escaped.
He found but one policeman there; the rest, and Ransome
at their head, were doing their best, all but two, drowned on
their beat in the very town of Hillsborough.
CHAPTER XLVI.
RoUND a great fire in the Town Hall were huddled a number of
half-naked creatures, who had been driven out of their dilapidated homes; some of them had seen children or relatives
perish in the flood they had themselves so narrowly escaped,
and were bemoaning them with chattering teeth.
Little spoke them a word of comfort, promised them all
clothes as soon as the shops should open, and hurried off to the
lower part of the town in search of Ransome.
He soon found the line the flood had taken. Between
Poma Bridge and Hillsborough it had wasted itself considerably
in a broad valley, but still it had gone clean through Hillsborough twelve feet high, demolishing and drowning. Its
terrible progress was marked by a layer of mud a foot thick,
dotted with rocks, trees, wrecks of houses, machinery, furniture,
barrels, mattresses, carcasses of animals, and dead bodies,
most of them stark naked, the raging flood having torn their
clothes off their backs.
Four corpses and two dead horses were lying in a lake of
mud about the very door of the railway-station; three of them
were females in absolute nudity. The fourth was a male, with



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS IAL1C~.

485

one stocking on. This proved to be Hillsbro' Harry, warned
in vain up at Damflask. When he actually heard the flood
come hissing, he had decided, on the whole, to dress, and had
got the length of that one stocking, when the flying lake cut
short his vegetation.
Not far from this, Little found Ransome, working like a
horse, with the tear in his eye.
He uttered a shout of delight and surprise, and, taking
Little by both shoulders, gazed earnestly at him, and said,
" Can this be a living man I see? "
" Yes, I am alive," said Little, " but I had to work for it:
feel my clothes."
"Why, they are drier than mine."
"Ay; yet I have been in water to the throat; the heat of
my body and my great exertions dried them. I'll tell you all
another day: now show me how to do a bit of good; for it is
not one nor two thousand pounds I'll stick at this night."
" Come on."
Strange sights they saw that night. They found a dead body
curled round the top frame of a lamp-post, and, in the suburbs,
another jammed between a beam and the wall of a house.
They found some houses with the front wall carried clean
away, and, on the second floor, such of the inmates as had
survived huddled together in their night-clothes, unable to get
down. These, Ransome and his men speedily relieved from
their situation. And now came in word that the whole village
of Poma Bridge had been destroyed.
Little, with Ransome and his men. hurried on at these sad
tidings as fast as the mud and ruins would allow, and, on the
way, one of the policemen trod on something soft. It was the
body of a woman, embedded in the mud.
A little farther they saw, at some distance, two cottages in
a row, both gutted and emptied. An old man was alone in
one, seated on the ground floor in the deep mud.
They went to him, and asked what they could do for him.
" Do? Why, let me die," said he.
They tried to encourage him; but he answered them in
words that showed how deeply old Shylock's speech is founded
in nature:
" Let the water take me,-it has taken all I had."
When they asked after his neighbours, he said he believed
they were all drowned. Unluskily for him, he had been out
when the flood came.



4.IW         PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Little clambered into the other cottage, and found a little
boy and girl placidly asleep in a cupboard upstairs.
Little yelled with delight, and kissed them, and cuddled
them, as if they had been his own, so sweet was it to see their
pretty innocent faces, spared by death. The boy kissed him
in return, and told him the room had been full of water, and
dada and mamma had gone out at the window, and they themselves had floated in the bed so high he had put his little sister
on the top shelf, and got on it himself, and then they had both
felt very sleepy.
" You are a dear good boy, and I take you into custody,"
said Ransome, in a broken voice.
Judge if this pair were petted up at the Town Hall.
At Poma Bridge the devastation was horrible. The flood
had bombarded a row of fifty houses, and demolished them so
utterly that only one arch of one cellar remained; the very
foundations were torn up, and huge holes of incredible breadth
and depth bored by the furious eddies.
Where were the inhabitants?
Ransome stood and looked, and shook like a man in an ague.
" Little," said he, " this is awful. Nobody in Hillsborough
dreams the extent of this calamity. I dread the dawn of day.
There must be scores of dead bodies hidden in this thick mud,
or perhaps swept through Hillsborough into the very sea."
A little farther, and they came to the " Reindeer," where he
had heard the boon companions singing-over their graves; for
that night, long before the cock did craw, or the day daw, their
mouths were full of water and mud, and not the barley-bree.
To know their fate needed but a glance at the miserable,
shattered, gutted, fragment of the inn that stood. There was
a chimney, a triangular piece of roof, a quarter of the inside of
one second-floor room, with all the boards gone, and half the
joists gone, and the others either hanging down perpendicularly
or sticking up at an angle of forty-five. Even on the side
farthest from the flood the water had hacked and ploughed
away the wall so deeply, that the miserable wreck had a jagged
waist, no bigger in proportion than a wasp's.
Not far from this amazing ruin was a little two-storied
house, whose four rooms looked exactly as four rooms are
represented in section on the stage, the front wall having been
blown clean away, and the furniture and inmates swept out;
the very fender and fire-irons had been carried away: a birdcage, a clock, and a grate were left hanging to the three walls.



PUT YOURSELF IN H1IS PLACE.

487

As a part of this village stood on high ground, the survivors
were within reach of relief; and Little gave a policeman orders
to buy clothes at the shop, and have them charged to him.
This done, he begged Ransome to cross the water, and
relieve the poor wretches who had escaped so narrowly with
him. Ransome consented at once; but then came a difficulty,
-the bridge, like every bridge that the flying lake had struck,
was swept away. However, the stream was narrow, and, as
they were already muddy to the knee, they found a place where
the miscellaneous ruin made stepping-stones, and by passing
first on to a piece of masonry, and from that to a broken waterwheel, and then on to a rock, they got across.
They passed the coiner's house. It stood on rather high
ground, and had got off cheap. The water had merely carried away
the doors and windows, and washed every moveable out of it.
Ransome sighed. "Poor Shifty! "said he. "You'll never
play us another trick. What an end for a man of your abilities 1"
And now the day began to dawn, and that was fortunate,
for otherwise they could hardly have found the house they
were going to.
On the way to it they came on two dead bodies, an old
man of eighty and a child scarce a week old. One fate had
united these extremes of human life, the ripe sheaf and the
spring bud.  It transpired afterwards that they had been
drowned in different parishes.  Death, that brought these
together, disunited hundreds. Poor Dolman's body was found
scarce a mile from his house, but his wife's eleven miles on
the other side of Hillsborough; and this wide separation of
those, who died in one place by one death, was constant, and
a pitiable feature of the tragedy.
At last they got to the house, and Little shuddered at the
sight of it; here not only was the whole front wall taken out,
but a part of the back wall; the jagged chimneys of the next
house still clung to this miserable shell, whose upper floors
were slanting sieves, and on its lower was a deep layer of mud,
with the carcass of a huge sow lying on it, washed in there all
the way from Hatfield village.
The people had all run away from the house, and no wonder,
for it seemed incredible that it could stand a single moment
longer; never had ruin come so close to demolition and then
stopped.
There was nothing to be done here, and Ransome went
back to Hillsborough, keeping this side the water.



188          PUT YOURSELF IN BIT PLACI.
Daybreak realized his worst fears: between Poma Bridge
and the first suburb of Hillsborough the place was like a battlerield; not that many had been drowned on the spot, but that,
drowned all up the valley by the flood at its highest, they had
been brought down and deposited in the thick layer of mud
left by the abating waters.
Some were cruelly gashed and mangled by the hard objects
with which they had come in contact.
Others wore a peaceful expression and had colour in their
cheeks. One drew tears from both these valiant men. It was
a lovely little girl, with her little hands before her face to keep
out the sight of death.
Here and there a hand or a ghastly face appearing above the
mud showed how many must be hidden altogether, and Ransome
hurried home to get more assistance to disinter the dead.
Just before the suburb of Allerton the ground is a dead
flat, and here the flying lake had covered a space a mile broad,
doing frightful damage to property, but not much to life, because
wherever it expanded it shallowed in proportion.
In part of this flat a gentleman had a beautiful garden and
pleasure-grounds overnight: they were now under water, and
their appearance was incredible; the flood expanding here and
then contracting, had grounded large objects and left small
ones floating. In one part of the garden it had landed a large
wheat-rick, which now stood as if it belonged there, though it
had been built five miles off.
In another part was an inverted summer-house and a huge
water-wheel, both of them great travellers that night.
In the large fish-pond, now much fuller than usual, floated
a wheel-barrow, a hair-mattress, an old wooden cradle, and an
enormous box or chest.
Little went splashing through the water to examine the
cradle; he was richly rewarded. He found a little child in it
awake, but perfectly happy, and enjoying the fluttering birds
above and the buoyant bed below, whose treacherous nature
was unknown to him. This incident the genius of my friend
Mr. Millais is about to render immortal.
Little's shout of delight brought Ransome splashing over
directly. They took up the cradle and contents to carry it
home, when all of a sudden Ransome's eye detected a finger
protruding through a hole in the box.
" Hallo! " said he. " Why, there's a body inside that box.'
" Good heavens I" said Little, "he may be alive."



PUT YOURilt iLF IR 1119 PtACV.

489

With that he made a rush and went in over head and ears.
" Confound it," said he, as soon as he got his breath.
But, being in for it now, he swam to the box, and getting
behind it shoved it before him to Ransome's feet.
Ransome tried to open it, but it shut with a spring. However, there were air-holes, and still this finger sticking out of
one-for a signal no doubt.
" Are ye alive or dead? " shouted Ransome to the box.
"Let me out and you'll see," replied the box; and the
sound seemed to issue from the bowels of the earth.
Little had his hatchet in his pocket and set to work to try
and open it. The occupant assisted him with advice how to
proceed, all which advice sounded subterraneous.
" Hold your jaw," said Little. "Do you think you can
teach me? "
By a considerable exertion of strength as well as skill, he
at last got the box open, and discovered the occupant seated
pale and chattering, with his knees tucked up.
The two men lent him a hand to help him up: Ransome
gave a slight start, and then expressed the warmest satisfaction.
" Thank heaven!" said he. " Shake hands, old fellow.
I'm downright glad. I've been groaning over you; but I
might have known you'd find some way to slip out of trouble.
Mr. Little, this is the Shifty himself. Please put your arm
under his; he is as strong as iron, and as slippery as an eel."
The Shifty, hearing this account given of himself, instantly
collapsed, and made himself weak as water, and tottered from
one of his guards to the other in turn.
" I was all that once, Mr. Ransome," said he, in a voice
that became suddenly as feeble as his body; " but this fearful
night has changed me. Miraculously preserved from destruction, I have renounced my errors, and vowed to lead a new
life. Conduct me at once to a clergyman, that I may confess
".and repent, and disown my past life with horror; then swear
me in a special constable, and let me have the honour of acting
under your orders, and of co-operating with you, sir" (to
Little) " in your Christian and charitable acts. Let me go
about with you, gentlemen, and relieve the sufferings of others,
as you have relieved mine."
" There " said Ransome, proudly; "there's a man for
you. He knows every move of the game-can patter like an
archbishop."  So saying, he handcuffed the Shifty with such
enthusiasm, that the convert swore a horrible oath at him.



4C()         PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
Ransome apologized, and beckoning a constable, handed
him the Shifty.
" Take him to the Town Hall, and give him every comfort.
He is Number one."
This man's escape was not so strange as it appeared. Th&
flood never bombarded his house,-he was only on the hem of
it. It rose and filled his house, whereupon he bored three
air-holes in the lid of his great chest, and got in. He washed
about the room till the abating flood contracted, and then it
sucked him and his box out of window. He got frightened,
and let the lid down, and so drifted about till at last he floated
into the hands of justice.
Little and Ransome carried the child away, and it was
conveyed to the hospital, and a healthy nurse assigned it.
Ransome prevailed on Little to go home, change his wet
clothes, and lie down for an hour or two. He consented, but
first gave Ransome an order to lay out a thousand pounds, at
his expense, in relief of the sufferers. Then he went home, sent
a messenger to " Raby Hall" that he was all right, took off his
clothes, rolled exhausted into bed, and slept till the afternoon.
At four o'clock he rose, got into a hansom, and drove up to
Woodbine Villa, the happiest man in England.
He inquired for Miss Carden. The man said he believed
she was not up; but would inquire.
"Do," said Little. "Tell her who it is. I'll wait in the
dining-room."
He walked into the dining-room before the man could
object, and there he found a sick gentleman, with Dr. Amboyne
and a surgeon examining him. The patient lay on a sofa, extremely pale, and groaning with pain.
One glance sufficed. It was Frederick Coventry,
CHAPTER XLVII.
"WHAT! you alive?" said Little, staring.
"Alive, and that is all," said Coventry. "Pray excuse
me for not dying to please you."
Ere Little could reply, Mr. Carden, who had heard of his
arrival, looked in from the library, and beckoned him in.
When they were alone, he began by giving the young man



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

491

his hand, and then thanked him warmly for his daughter.
"( You have showh yourself a hero in courage. Now go one
step farther; be a hero in fortitude and self-denial; that unhappy man in the next room is her husband; like you, he!risked his life to save her. He tells me he heard the dam was
~ going to burst, and came instantly with a ladder to rescue her.
SHe was less fortunate than you, and failed to rescue her; less
fortunate than you again, he has received a mortal injury in
that attempt. It was I who found him; I went down, distracted with anxiety, to look for my daughter; I found this
poor creature jammed tight between the tree he was upon, and
a quantity of heavy timber that had accumulated, and rested
against a bank. We released him with great difficulty. It was
a long time before he could speak; and then, his first inquiry
was after her. Show some pity for an erring man, Mr. Little;
some consideration for my daughter's reputation. Let him die
in peace; his spine is broken; he can't live many days."
Little heard all this, and looked down on the ground for
some time in silence. At last he said firmly, " Mr. Carden, I
would not be inhuman to a dying man; but you were always
his friend, and never mine. Let me see her, and I'll tell her
what you say, and take her advice."
" You shall see her, of course; but not just now. She is in
bed, attended by a Sister of Charity, whom she telegraphed for."
" Can I see that lady? "
" Certainly."
Sister Gratiosa was sent for, and, in reply to Little's
anxious inquiries, told him that Sister Amata had been very
much shaken by the terrible events of the night, and absolute
repose was necessary to her: in further conversation she told
him she was aware of Sister Amata's unhappy story, and had
approved her retirement from Hillsborough, under all the circumstances; but that now, after much prayer to God for
enlightenment, she could not but think it was the Sister's
duty, as a Christian woman, to stay at home and nurse the
Safflicted man, whose name she bore, and above all devote herself to his spiritual welfare.
" Oh, that is your notion, is it? " said Henry. " Then
you are no friend of mine."
" I am no enemy of yours, nor of any man, I hope. May
I ask you one question, without offence?"
" Certainly."
"Hav3 you prayed to God to guide you in this difficulty?"



49'          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
t No."
" Then seek His throne without delay; and, until you have
done so, do not rashly condemn my views of this matter, since
I have sought for wisdom where alone it is to be found."
Henry chafed under this; but he commanded his temper,
though with difficulty, and said, " Will you take a line to her
from me? "
The Sister hesitated. "I don't know whether I ought,"
said she.
" Oh, then the old game of intercepting letters is to be
played."
"Not by me: after prayer I shall be able to say yes or no
to your request. At present, being at a distance from my
Superior, I must needs hesitate."
" Right and wrong must have made very little impression on
your mind, if you don't know whether you ought to take a letter
to a woman, from a man who has just saved her life-or not."
The lady coloured high, curtsied, and retired, without a word.
Little knew enough of human nature to see that the Sister
would not pray against feminine spite: he had now a dangerous enemy in the house, and foresaw that Grace would be
steadily worked on through her religious sentiments.
He went away, sick with disappointment, jealousy, and
misgivings, hired a carriage, and drove at once to Raby Hall.
- 0*--
CHAPTER XLVIII.
MRS. LITTLE saw her son arrive, met him in the hall, and embraced him, with a great cry of maternal joy, that did his heart
good for a moment.
He had to tell her all; and, during the recital, she often
clasped him to her bosom.
When he had told her all, she said, "Much as I love you,
darling, I am ready to part with you for your good: there is a
cure for all your griefs: there is a better woman in this house
than ever Grace Carden was or will be. Be a man; shake off
these miserable trammels, leave that vacillating girl to nurse
her villain, and marry the one I have chosen for you."
Henry shook his head. " What, when a few months perhaps will free my Grace from her incumbrance?  Mother, you
are giving me bad advice for once."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.             493
"Unwelcome advice, dear, not bad.   Will you consult
Dr. Amboyne? he sleeps here to-night. He often comes here
now, you know." Then the widow coloured just a little.
" Oh yes, I know; and I approve."
Doctor Amboyne came to dinner.   In the course of the
evening he mentioned his patient Coventry, and said he would
never walk again, his spine was too seriously injured.
" How soon will he die? that is what I want to know,"
said Henry, with that excessive candour which the polite
reader has long ago discovered in him and been shocked.
" Oh, he may live for years. But what a life! An inert
mass below the waist, and, above it, a sick heart, and a brain
as sensitive as ever to realize the horrid calamity. Even I,
who know and abhor the man's crimes, shudder at the punishment heaven inflicts on him."
There was a dead silence round the table, and Little was
observed to turn pale.
He was gloomy and silent all the evening.
Next morning, directly after breakfast, his mother got him,
and implored him not to waste his youth any longer.
" The man will never die," said she: " he will wear you
out. You have great energy and courage; but you have not a
woman's humble patience to go on, year after year, waiting for
an event you cannot hasten by a single moment. Do you not
see it is hopeless? End your misery by one brave plunge.
Speak to dear Jael."
"I can't-I can't! "
"Then let me."
"Will it make you happy?"
"Very happy. Nothing else can."
"Will it make her happy?"
As happy as a queen."
" She deserves a better fate."
"She asks no better. There, unless you stop me, I shall
speak to her."
" Well, well," said Henry, very wearily.
Mrs. Little went to the door.
" Wait a moment," said he. " How about uncle Raby?
He has been a good friend to me. I have offended him once,
and it was the worst job I ever did. I won't offend him again."
"-How can you offend him by marrying Jael?"
" What, have you forgotten how angry he was, when Mr.
Richard Raby proposed to her? There,I'll go and speak to him."



194          PUT YOURSETIF IN HIS PLACE.
" Well, do."
He was no sooner gone than Mrs. Little stepped into JaeFs
room, and told her how matters stood.
Jael looked dismayed, and begged her on no account to
proceed: " For," said she, " if Mr. Henry was to ask me, I
should say no. He would always be hankering after Miss
Carden: and, pray don't be angry with me, but I think I'm
worth a man's whole heart; for I could love one very dearly,
if he loved me."
Mrs. Little was deeply mortified. " This I did not expect,"
said she. "Well, if you are all determined to be miserable-be."
Henry hunted up Mr. Raby, and asked him bluntly whether
he would like him to marry Jael Dence.
Raby made no reply for some time, and his features worked
strangely.
"Has she consented to be your wife?"
"I have never asked her. But I will, if you wish it."
"Wish it? "
' Why, sir, if you don't wish it, please forbid it, and let us
say no more at all about it."
"Excuse me," said Raby, with his grandest air: "a
gentleman may dislike a thing, yet not condescend to forbid it."
" That is true, sir; and an ex-workman may appreciate his
delicacy, and give the thing up at once. I will die a bachelor."
" Henry-my boy-give me your hand.-I'll tell you the
truth. I love her myself. She is a pattern of all I admire in
woman."
" Uncle, I suspected this, to tell the truth. Well, if you
love her-marry her."
"What, without her consent?"
"Oh, she will consent. Order her to marry you; she will
never disobey the Lord of the Manor."
" That is what I fear: and it is base to take advantage of
her in that way."
" You are right, sir," said Henry, and ran off directly.
He found Jael, and said, " Jael, dear, couldn't you like
uncle Raby? he loves you dearly."
He then appealed to her heart, and spoke of his uncle's
nobleness in fearing to obtain an unfair advantage over her.
To his surprise, Jael blushed deeply, and her face softened
angelically, and presently a tear ran down it.
" Hallo I " sail Henry. " That is the game, is it?  You
stay her."



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

495

He ran back to Mr. Raby, and said: "I've made a dis.
covery. She loves you, sir. I'll take my oath of it. You go
and ask her."
" I will," said Raby; and he went to Jael, like a man, and
said, " Jael, he has found me out; I love you dearly. I'm
old, but I'm not cold. Do you think you could be happy as
my wife, with all the young fellows admiring you? "
" Sir," said Jael, " I wouldn't give your little finger for all
the young men in Christendom. Once I thought a little too
much of Mr. Henry, but that was over long ago. And since
you saved my life, and cried over me in this very room, you
have been in my head, and in my heart; but I wouldn't show
it; for I had vowed I never would let any man know my heart
till he showed me his."
In short, this pair were soon afterwards seen walking arm
in arm radiant with happiness.
That sight was too much for Henry Little. The excitement of doing a kind thing, and making two benefactors happy,
had borne him up till now; but the reaction came: the contrast of their happiness with his misery was too poignant. He
had not even courage to bid them good-by, but fled back to
Hillsborough, in anguish of spirit, and deep despair.
When he got home, there was a note from Grace Garden.
"MY OWN DEAREST HENRY,-I find that you have called, and
been denied me; and that Mr. Coventry had been admitted
into the house.
" I have therefore left Woodbine Villa, and taken lodgings
opposite.
" Sister Gratiosa has convinced me I ought to labour for
the eternal welfare of the guilty, unhappy man, whose name it
is my misfortune to bear. I will try to do so: but nobody
shall either compel, or persuade, me, to be cruel to my dear
Henry, to whom I owe my life once more, and who is all the
world to me. I shall now be employed nearly all the day, but
I reserve two hours, from three till five, when you will always
find me at home. Our course is clear. We must pray for
patience.-Yours, to eternity,
" GRACE."
After reading this letter, and pondering it well, Henry
Little's fortitude revived, and, as he could not speak his mind
to Grace at that moment, he wrote to her, after some hours of
redsltion, as follows:


496          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" MY OWN DEAREST GRACE,-I approve, I bless you. Our case
is hard, but not desperate. We have been worse off than we
are now. I agree with you that our course is clear; what we
have got to do, as I understand it, is to outlive a crippled
scoundrel. Well, love and a clear conscience will surely enable
us to outlive a villain, whose spine is injured, and whose conscience must gnaw him, and who has no creature's love to
nourish him.
"Yours, in this world, and, I hope, in the next,
" HENRY."
Sister Gratiosa, to oblige Grace, stayed at Woodbine Villa.
She was always present at any interview of Coventry and Grace.
Little softened her, by giving her money whenever she
mentioned a case of distress. She had but this one pleasure
in life, a pure one, and her poverty had always curbed it hard.
She began to pity this poor sinner, who was ready to pour his
income into her lap, for Christian purposes.
And so the days rolled on. Raby took into his head to
repair the old church, and be married in it. This crotchet
postponed his happiness for some months.
But the days and weeks rolled on.
Raby became sheriff of the county.
Coventry got a little better, and moved to the next villa.
Then Grace returned at once to Woodbine Villa; but she
still paid charitable visits, with Sister Gratiosa, to the wreck
whose name she bore.
She was patient.
But Little, the man of action, began to faint.
He decided to return to the United States for a year or
two, and distract his mind.
When he communicated this resolve, Grace sighed.
" The last visit there was disastrous," said she. '( But,"
recovering herself, " we cannot be deceived again, nor doubt
each other's constancy again." So she sighed, but consented.
Coventry heard of it, and chuckled inwardly. He felt sure
that in time he should wear out his rival's patience.
A week or two more, and Little named the very day for
sailing.
The assizes came on. The Sheriff met the Judges with
great pomp, and certain observances which had gone out.
This pleased the Chief Justice; he had felt a little nervous;
Raby' predecessor had met him in a carriage and pair and no



PUT YOURISELF IN HIS PLACE.

497

outriders, and he had felt it his duty to fine the said Sheriff
1001. for so disrespecting the Crown in his person.
So now alluding to this, he said, " Mr. Sheriff, I am glad
to find you hold by old customs, and do not grudge outward
observances to the Queen's Justices."
" My lord," said the Sheriff, " I can hardly show enough
respect to justice and learning, when they visit us in the name
of my Sovereign."
" That is very well said, Mr. Sheriff," said my lord.
The Sheriff bowed.
The Chief Justice was so pleased with his appearance, and
his respectful, yet dignified manner, that he conversed with
him repeatedly during the pauses of the trials.
Little was cording his boxes for America when Ransome
burst in on him, and said, " Come into court; come into court.
Shifty Dick will be up directly."
Little objected that he was busy; but Ransome looked so
mortified, that he consented, and was just in time to see
Richard Martin, alias Lord Daventree, alias Tom Pain, alias
Sir Henry Gulstone, alias the Quaker, alias Shifty Dick, &c.
&c., appear at the bar.
The indictment was large, and charged the prisoner with
various frauds of a felonious character, including his two frauds
on the " Gosshawk."
Counsel made a brief exposition of the facts, and then went
into the evidence. But here the strict, or, as some think,
pedantic rules of English evidence befriended the prisoner, and
the Judge objccted to certain testimony on which the prosecu
tion had mainly relied. As for the evidence of coining, the
flood had swept all that away.
Ransome, who was eager for a conviction, began to look blue.
But presently a policeman, who had been watching the
prisoner, came and whispered in his ear.
Up started Ransome, wrote the Crown solicitor a line,
begging him to keep the case on its legs anyhow, for half-anhour, and giving his reason. He then dashed off in a cab.
The case proceeded, under discouraging remarks from the
Judge, most of them addressed to the evidence: but he also
hinted that the indictment was rather loosely drawn.
At last the Attorney-General, who led, began to consult
with his junior whether they could hope for a conviction.
But uow there was a commotion; then heads were put
K K



498

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

together, and to the inexpressible surprise of young Little and
of the Sheriff, Grace Coventry was put into the witness-box.
At the sight of her the learned judge, who was, like most
really great lawyers, a keen admirer of beautiful women, woke
up, and became interested.
After the usual preliminaries, counsel requested her to
look at that man, and say whether she knew him.
Grace looked, and recognized him. " Yes," said she, "it
is Mr. Beresford: he is a clergyman."
Whereupon there was a loud laugh.
Counsel. "What makes you think he is a clergyman? "
Witness. "I have seen him    officiate. It was he who
married me to Mr. -."  Here she caught sight of Henry,
and stopped, blushing.
"What is that?" said the judge keenly.  "Did you say
t1't man performed the marriage ceremony over you?"
SYes, my lord? "
' When and where was that? "
She gave the time and place.
"I should like to see the register of that parish."
" Let me save you the trouble," said the prisoner. " Your
lordship's time has been wasted enough with falsehoods: I will
not waste it further by denying the truth. The fact is, my
lord, I was always a great churchgoer" (a laugh), "and I
was disgusted with the way in which the clergy deliver the
Liturgy, and with their hollow discourses, that don't go home
to men's bosoms. Vanity whispered, ' You could do better.'
I applied for the curacy of St. Peter's. I obtained it. I gave
universal satisfaction; and no wonder; my heart was in the
work; I trembled at the responsibility I had undertaken. Yes,
my lord, I united that young lady in holy matrimony to one
Frederick Coventry. I had no sooner done it, than I began
to realize that a clergyman is something more than a reader
and a preacher. Remorse seized me. My penitence, once
awakened, was sincere. I retired from the sacred office I had
usurped-with much levity, I own, but, as heaven is my witness, with no guilty intent."
The Judge to Grace. "Did you ever see the prisoner on
any other occasion? "
Grace. " Only once. He called on me after my marriage.
He left the town soon after."
The Judge then turned to Grace, and said, with considerable feeling, " It would be unkind to disguise the truth from



PUT YOUtSELF' IN HIS PLACE.            499
you. You must petition Parliament to sanction this marriage
y a distinct enactment; it is the invariable course, and
Parliament has never refused to make these marriages binding.
Until then, pray understand that you are Miss Carden and
not Mrs. Coventry."
The witness clasped her hands above her head, uttered a loud
scream of joy, and was removed all but insensible from the box.
The Judge looked amazed. The Sheriff whispered, " Her
husband is a greater scoundrel than this prisoner."
Soon after this the Judge withdrew to luncheon, and took
the Sheriff along with him. " Mr. Sheriff," said he, "you
said something to me in court I hardly understood."
Then Raby gave the Judge a brief outline of the whole
story, and, in a voice full of emotion, asked his advice.
The Judge smiled at this bit of simplicity: but his heart had
been touched, and he had taken a fancy to Raby. " Mr. Sheriff,"
said he, " etiquette forbids me to advise you-."
"I am sorry for that, my lord."
"But humanity suggests    -   Tell me, now, does this
Coventry hold to her? Will he petition Parliament? "
" It is very possible, my lord."
"Humph! Get a special licence, and marry Grace Carden
to Henry Little, and have the marriage consummated. Don't
lose a day, nor an hour. I will not detain you, Mr. Sheriff."
Raby took the hint, and soon found Henry, and told him
the advice he had got. He set him to work to get the licence,
and being resolved to stand no nonsense, he drove to Grace,
and invited her to Raby Hall. "I am to be married this
week," said he, " and you must be at the wedding."
Grace thought he would be hurt if she refused, so she
coloured a little, but consented.
She packed up, with many a deep sigh, things fit for a
wedding, and Raby drove her home. He saw her to her
room, and then had a conversation with Mrs. Little, the result
of which was that Henry's mother received her with wellfeigned cordiality.
Next day Henry came to dinner, and, after dinner, the
lovers were left alone. This, too, had been arranged beforehand.
Henry told her he was going to ask her a great favour;
would she consider all they had suffered, and, laying aside
childish delays, be married to him in the old church to-morrow
along with Mr. Raby and Jael Dence?
Ob then she trembled, and blushed, and hesitated; and
KK2



500           PUT YOURSELF IN H11S ~LACE.
faltered out, " What, all in a moment like that? what would
your mother think of me? "
Henry ran for his mother, and brought her into the room.
" Mother," said he, " Grace wants to know what you will
think of her, if she should lay aside humbug and marry me tomorrow? "
Mrs. Little replied, " I shall say, here is a dear child, who
has seen what misery may spring from delay, and so now she
will not coquet with her own happiness, nor trifle with yours."
" No, no," said Grace: " only tell me you will forgive my
folly, and love me as your child."
Mrs. Little caught her in her arms, and, in that attitude,
Grace gave her hand to Henry, and whispered " Yes."
Next day, at eleven o'clock, the two couples went to the
old church, and walked up the aisle to the altar. Grace looked
all around. Raby had effaced every trace of Henry's sacrilege
from the building: but not from the heart of her whose life he
had saved on that very spot.
She stood at the altar, weeping at the recollections the
place revived, but they were tears of joy. The parson of the
parish, a white-haired old man, the model of a pastor, married
the two couples according to the law of England.
Raby took his wife home, more majorum.
Little whirled his prize off to Scotland, and human felicity
has seldom equalled his and his bride's.
Yet, in the rapture of conjugal bliss, she did not forget
duty and filial affection. She wrote a long and tender letter
to her father, telling him how it all happened, and hoping that
she should soon be settled, and then he would come and live
with her and her adored husband.
Mr. Carden was delighted with this letter, which, indeed,
was one gush of love and happiness. He told Coventry what
had taken place, and counselled patience.
Coventry broke out into curses.   He made wonderful
efforts for a man in his condition; he got lawyers to prepare a
petition to Parliament; he had the register inspected, and found
that the Shifty had married two poor couples; he bribed them
to join in his petition, and inserted in it that, in consideration
of this marriage, he had settled a certain farm and buildings
on his wife for her separate use, and on her heirs for ever.
The petition was read in Parliament, and no objection
taken. It was considered a matter of course.
But, a few days afterwards, one of the lawyers in the



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

501

Uouse, primed by a person whose name I am not free to
mention, recurred to the subject, and said that, as regarded
one of these couples, too partial a statement had been laid
before the House; he was credibly informed that the parties
had separated immediately after the ceremony, and that the
bride had since been married, according to law, to a gentleman
who possessed her affections, and had lived with him ever since
the said marriage.
On this another lawyer got up, and said that, " if that was
so, the petition must be abandoned. Parliament was humane,
and would protect an illegal marriage per se, but not an illegal
marriage competing with a legal one.    That would be to
tamper with the law of England, and, indeed, with morality;
would compel a woman to adultery in her own despite."
This proved a knock-down blow; and the petition was
dropped, as respected Frederick Coventry and Grace Little.
Coventry's farm was returned to him, and the settlement
cancelled.
Little sent Ransome to him with certain memoranda, and
warned him to keep quiet, or he would be indicted for felony.
He groaned, and submitted.
He lives still, to expiate his crimes.
While I write these lines, there still stands at Poma Bridge
one disembowelled house, to mark that terrible flood; and, even
so, this human survivor lives, a wreck. " Below the waist an
inert mass; above it, a raging, impotent, despairing criminal."
He often prays for death. Since he can pray for anything, let
us hope he will one day pray for penitence, and life everlasting.
Little built a house in the suburbs leading to Raby Hall.
There is a forge in the yard, in which the inventor perfects his
inventions with his own hand. He is a wealthy man, and will
be wealthier, for he lives prudently, and is never idle.
Mr. Garden lives with him.    Little is too happy with
Grace to bear malice against her father.
Grace is lovelier than ever, and blissfully happy in the
husband she adores, and two lovely children.
Guy Raby no longer calls life one disappointment: he has
a loving and prudent wife, and loves her as she deserves; his
olive branches are rising fast around him; and, as sometimes
happens to a Benedict of his age who has lived soberly, he
looks younger, feels younger, talks younger, and behaves
younger th4n be did ten years before hb married. He is Quita



502          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
unconscious that he has departed from his favourite theories, in
wedding a yeoman's daughter. On the contrary, he believes he
has acted on a system, and crossed the breed so judiciously, as to
attain greater physical perfection by means of a herculean dam,
yet retain that avitam fidem, or traditional loyalty, which (to use
his own words) "is born both in Rabies and Denees, as surely as
a high-bred setter comes into the world with a nose for game."
Mrs. Little has rewarded Doctor Amboyne's patience and
constancy. They have no children of their own, so they claim
all the young Littles and Rabies, present and to come; and
the Doctor has bound both the young women by a solemn vow
to teach them, at an early age, the art of putting themselves
into his place, her place, their place. He has convinced these
young mothers that this "great transmigratory art," although
it comes of itself only to a few superior minds, can be taught
to vast numbers; and he declares that, were it to be taught
as generally as reading and writing, that teaching alone would
quadruple the intelligence of mankind, and go far to double its
virtue.
But time flies, and space contracts: the words and the deeds
of Amboyne, are they not written in the Amboyniana?
One foggy night, the house of a non-union fender-grinder
was blown up with gunpowder, and not the workman onlythe mildest and most inoffensive man I ever talked with-but
certain harmless women and innocent children, who had done
nothing to offend the Union, were all but destroyed. The
same barbarous act had been committed more than once
before, and with more bloody results, but had led to no large
consequences-carebat quia rate sacro; but this time there
happened to be a vates in the place, to wit, an honest, intrepid
journalist, with a mind in advance of his age. He came, he
looked, he spoke to the poor shaken creatures-one of them
shaken for life, and doomed now to start from sleep at every
little sound till she sleeps for ever-and the blood in his brave
heart boiled. The felony was publicly reprobated, and with
horror, by the Union, which had nevertheless hired the assassins; but this well-worn lie did not impose on the vates, or
chronicler ahead of his time. He went round to all the manufacturers, and asked them to speak out. They durst not, for
their lives; but closed all doors, and then, with bated breath,
and all the mien of slaves well trodden down, hinted where
informatiou might be had. Thereupon the vates aforesaid


TPUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

508

floldfast yclept-went from scent to scent, till he dropped on
a discontented grinder, with fish-like eyes, who had been in
" many a night-job." This man agreed to split, on two con.
ditions: he was to receive a sum of money, and to be sent
into another hemisphere, since his life would not be worth a
straw, if he told the truth about the Trades in this one. His
terms were accepted, and then he made some tremendous revelations; and, with these in his possession, Holdfast wrote leader
upon leader, to prove that the Unions must have been guilty of
every Trade outrage that had taken place for years in the
district, but adroitly concealing that he had positive information.
Grotait replied incautiously, and got worsted before the
public. The ablest men, if not writers, are unwise to fence
with writers.
Holdfast received phonetic letters threatening his life; he
acknowledged them in his journal, and invited the writers
to call. He loaded a revolver and went on writing the leaders
with a finger on the trigger. California! Oh dear, no, the
very centre of England.
Ransome co-operated with him and collected further evidence, and then Holdfast communicated privately with a portion
of the London press, and begged them to assist him to obtain
a Royal Commission of inquiry, in which case he pledged himself to prove that a whole string of murders and outrages had
been ordered and paid for by the very unions which had publicly
repudiated them in eloquent terms, and been believed.
The London Press took this up; two or three members of
the House of Commons, wild, eccentric men, who would not
betray their country to secure their re-election to some dirty
borough, sided with outraged law: and by these united efforts
a Commission was obtained. The Commission sat, and, being
conducted with rare skill and determination, squeezed out of
an incredible mass of perjury some terrible truths, whose discovery drew eloquent leaders from the journals; these filled
simple men, who love their country, with a hope that the
Government of this nation would shake off its lethargy, and
take stringent measures to defend the liberty of the subject
against so cruel and cowardly a conspiracy, and to deprive the
workmen, in their differences with the masters, of an unfair
and sanguinary weapon, which the masters could use but never
have as yet; and, by using which, the workmen do themselves no
lasting good, and, indeed, have driven whole trades and much
capital out of the oppressed districts, to their own great loss.



504

TUT YOUISELF IN HIS PLACE.

That hope, though not extinct, is fainter now than it was,
Matters seem  going all the other way. An honest, inde.
pendent man, who did honour to the Senate, has lost his seat
solely for not conniving at those Trade outrages, which the
hypocrites, who have voted him out, pretend to denounce.
Foul play is still rampant and triumphant. Its victims were
sympathized with for one short day, when they bared their
wounds to the Royal Commissioners; but that sympathy has
deserted them: they are now hidden in holes and corners from
their oppressors, and have to go by false names, and are kept
out of work; for odisse quem larseris is the fundamental maxim
of their oppressors. Not so the assassins: they flourish. I
have seen with these eyes one savage murderer employed at
high wages, while a man he all but destroyed is refused work
on all hands, and was separated by dire poverty from another
scarred victim, his wife, till I brought them together. Again,
I have seen a wholesale murderer employed on the very
machine he had been concerned in blowing up, employed on it
at the wages of three innoxious curates. And I find this is
the rule, not the exception. " No punishment but for already
punished innocence; no safety but for triumphant crime."
The Executive is fast asleep in the matter-or it would
long ago have planted the Manchester district with a hundred
thousand special constables-and the globule of legislation
now prescribed to Parliament, though excellent in certain
respects, is null in others, would, if passed into law, rather
encourage the intimidation of one man by twenty, and make
him starve his family to save his skin-cruel alternative-and
would not seriously check the darker and more bloody outrages, nor prevent their spreading from their present populous
centres all over the land. Seeing these things, I have drawn my
pen against cowardly assassination and sordid tyranny: I have
taken a few undeniable truths, out of many, and have laboured
to make my readers realize those appalling facts of the day,
which most men know, but not one in a thousand comprehends,
and not one in a hundred thousand realizes, until Fictionwhich, whatever you may have been told to the contrary, is the
highest, widest, noblest, and greatest of all the arts-comes
to his aid, studies, penetrates, digests, the hard facts of chro'
nicles and blue-books, and makes their dry bones live,



PTT YOtUSELF IN HIS PLACE.

APPENDIX-(See p. 286.)
Extract from HENRY LITTLE'S " Rlport.'
The file-cutters.
"This is the largest trade, containing about three thousand
men, and several hundred women and boys. Their diseases
and deaths arise from poisoning by lead. The file rests on a
bed of lead during the process of cutting, which might more
correctly be called stamping; and, as the stamping-chisel can
only be guided to the required nicety by the finger-nail, the
lead is constantly handled and fingered, and enters the system
through the pores.
" Besides this, fine dust of lead is set in motion by the
blows that drive the cutting-chisel, and the insidious poison
settles on the hair and the face, and is believed to go direct to
the lungs some of it.
"The file-cutter never lives the span of life allotted to
man. After many small warnings his thumb weakens. He
neglects that; and he gets touches of paralysis in the thumb,
the arm, and the nerves of the stomach; can't digest; can't
sweat; at last, can't work; goes to the hospital: there they
galvanize him, which does him no harm; and boil 1iim, which
does him a deal of good. He comes back to work, resumes
his dirty habits, takes in fresh doses of lead, turns dirty white
or sallow, gets a blue line round his teeth, a dropped wrist,
and to the hospital again or on to the file-cutters' box; and so
he goes miserably on and off, till he drops into a premature
grave, with as much lead in his body as would lap a hundredweight of tea.
THIE REMEDIES.
" A. What the masters might do.
" 1. Provide every forge with two small fires, eighteen
inches from the ground. This would warm the lower limbs of the
smiths. At present their bodies suffer by uneven temperature;
they perspire down to the waist, and then freeze to the toe.
" 2. For the wet-grinders they might supply fires in every
wheel, abolish mud floors, and pave with a proper fall and drain.
" To prevent the breaking of heavy grindstones, fit them



506          PUT YOUTLM.  IN i,.   PLACE,
with the large strong circular steel plate-of which I subjoin a
drawing-instead of with wedges or insufficient plates. They
might have an eye to life, as well as capital, in buying heavy
grindstones. I have traced the death of one grinder to the
master's avarice; he went to the quarry and bought a stone
for thirty-five shillings the quarry-master had set aside as imperfect; its price would have been sixty shillings if it had been
fit to trust a man's life to. This master goes to church twice
a Sunday, and is much respected by his own sort: yet he committed a murder for twenty-five shillings. Being Hillsborough,
let us hope it was a murderer he murdered.
" For the dry-grinders they might all supply fans and
boxes. Some do, and the good effect is very remarkable.
Moreover, the present fans and boxes could be much improved.
" One trade-the steel-fork grinders-is considerably worse
than the rest; and, although the fan does much for it, I'm told
it must still remain an unhealthy trade. If so, and Dr. Amboyne is right about Life, Labour, and Capital, let the masters
co-operate with the Legislature, and extinguish the handicraft.
" For the file-cutters the masters might" 1st. Try a substitute for lead. It is all very well to say
a file must rest on lead to be cut. Who has ever employed
brains on that question? Who has tried iron, wood, and guttapercha, in layers?  Who has ever tried anything, least of all
the thing called Thought?
" 2nd. If lead is the only bed-which I doubt-and the
lead must be bare-which I dispute-then the master ought to
supply every gang of file-cutters with hooks, taps, and basins,
and soap, in some place adjoining their work-rooms. Lead is
a subtle, but not a swift, poison; and soap-and-water every
two hours is an antidote.
" 3rd. They ought to forbid the introduction of food into
file-cutting rooms. 'Workmen are a reckless set, and a dirty
set; food has no business in any place of theirs, where poison
is going.
"B. What the scorkmen might do.
"1st. Demand from the masters these improvements I
have suggested, and, if the demand came through the secretaries of their unions, the masters would comply.
" 2nd. They might drink less, and wash their bodies with
a small part of the money so saved: the price of a gill of gin,
and a hot bath, are exactly the same; only the bath is health



ICtT YOURBELF IN HIS PLACE.

507

to a dry-grinder, or file-cutter; the gin is worse poison to him
than to healthy men.
" 3rd. The small wet-grinders, who have to buy their
grindstones, might buy sound ones, instead of making bargains
at the quarry, which prove double bad bargains when the stone
breaks, since then a new stone is required, and sometimes a
new man, too.
" 4th. They might be more careful not to leave the grindstone in water. I have traced three broken stones in one
wheel to that abominable piece of carelessness.
" 5th. They ought never to fix an undersized pulley-wheel.
Simmons killed himself by that, and by grudging the few hours
of labour required to hang and race a sound stone.
" 6th. If files can only be cut on lead, the file-cutters
might anoint the lead overnight with a hard drying ointment,
soluble in turps, and this ointment might even be medicated
with an antidote to the salt of lead.
" 7th. If files can only be cut on bare lead, the men ought
to cut their hair close, and wear a light cap at work. They
ought to have a canvas suit in the adjoining place (see above);
don it when they come, and doff it when they go. They ought
to leave off their insane habit of licking the thumb and finger
of the left hand-which is the leaded hand-with their tongues.
This beastly trick takes the poison direct to the stomach.
They might surely leave it to get there through the pores; it
is slow, but sure. I have also repeatedly seen a file-cutter eat
his dinner with his filthy poisoned fingers, and so send the
poison home by way of salt to a fool's bacon. Finally, they
ought to wash off the poison every two hours at the taps.
" 8th. Since they abuse the masters, and justly for their
greediness, they ought not to imitate that greediness by driving
their poor little children into unhealthy trades, and so destroying them body and soul. This practice robs the children of
education at the very seed-time of life, and literally murders
many of them; for their soft and porous skins, and growing
organs, take in all poisons and disorders quicker than an adult.
" C. What the Legislature might do.
" It might issue a commission to examine the Hillsborough
trades, and, when accurately informed, might put some practical
restraints both on the murder and the suicide that are going on
at present, A few of the suggestions I have thrown out might,
I think, be made law,



6Ou1          PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.
" For instance, the master who should set a dry-grinder to
a trough without a fan, or put his wet-grinders on a mud floor
and no fire, or his file-cutters in a room without taps and
basins, or who should be convicted of wilfully buying a faulty
grindstone, might be made subject to a severe penalty; and
the municipal authorities invested with rights of inspection,
and encouraged to report.
" In restraint of the workmen, the Legislature ought to
extend the Factory Acts to Hillsborough trades, and so check
the heartless avarice of the parents. At present, no class of
her Majesty's subjects cries so loud, and so vainly, to her
motherly bosom, and the humanity of Parliament, as these
poor little children; their parents, the lowest and most
degraded set of brutes in England, teach them swearing and
indecency at home, and rob them of all decent education, and
drive them to their death, in order to squeeze a few shillings
out of their young lives; for what?-to waste in drink and
debauchery. Count the public-houses in this town.
"As to the fork-grinding trade, the Legislature might
assist the masters to extinguish it. It numbers only about
one hundred and fifty persons, all much poisoned and little
paid. The work could all be done by fifteen machines and
thirty hands, and in my opinion, without the expense of grindstones. The thirty men would get double wages: the odd
hundred and twenty would, of course, be driven into other
trades, after suffering much distress. And, on this account, I
would call in Parliament, because then there would be a temporary compensation offered to the temporary sufferers by a
far-sighted and beneficent measure. Besides, without Parliament, I am afraid the masters could not do it. The fork
grinders would blow up the machines, and the men who worked
them, and their wives, and their children, and their lodgers,
and their lodgers' visitors.
" For all that, if your theory of Life, Labour, and Capita]
is true, all incurably destructive handicrafts ought to give way
to machinery, and will, as Man advances."
PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
LONDON



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