Did he know anything about cattle? He | allusion had been made by him or his had had no experience, and not a farmer mother to the fortune of Gabriel Cotham. would intrust his cattle to him, that he They had but to make their necessities might acquire experience on them. Could known, and they could have as much he plough? He had never tried; and money as they needed. But Richard good ploughing is not easily acquired. A would have died, his mother would have walking postman was needed for five par- died, one and other would have sat silent ishes, the pay six-and-sixpence per week; and watched the seven little girls die of the distance to be walked, fair weather or starvation, rather than touch a penny of foul, twenty miles but then, Richard that fortune. They were proud, were was lame; so he refused the six-and-six. these Cables, mother and son; their pride was inflexible as iron. The parish authorities, the whole neighborhood - that is, all five parishes - took it ill that he rejected the office of walking postman so liberally offered him. That he was lame, was his concern, not theirs. He rejected the office because he was proud; he was puffed up with pride because he was a foreigner. What could be expected of a man who had seven little girls and not a boy? Seven little maids! What was to become of them if their father died? They and their grandmother would have to go to the workhouse; and who would have to pay for them there, for feeding, for fattening of them, for clothing, and educating them? Who but the ratepayers? No wonder that, with such a prospect, the ratepayers looked on Richard Cable with a resentful eye. He got work at last work for the time being he took it resentfully, surlily, with gall in his heart-work on the roads. There was another matter which had not conduced to diffuse a kindly feeling towards Cable in the place. One day, a village boy had knocked little Mary down out of wanton wickedness. She was a foreigner. He had heard his parents, the entire parish, speak against these foreigners, and he thought himself at liberty to demonstrate his dislike by outward act. When Richard heard this, he was as one possessed. He went after the boy and half killed him in his fury. He barely escaped a summons for this retaliation. The boy's father was a carpenter, and was related to every one else in the place. In St. Kerian, if you touched one, the whole population came out against you as a hive of bees. That the boy had done what was wrong occurred to no one. An outrage had been committed by this lame foreigner on a member of the community, and the entire community took it up and resented it angrily. CHAPTER XXXIX. A SPIKE IN THE NEST. THE mind of Mr. Cornellis was at ease. So completely satisfied was he that nothing was to be apprehended which could annoy him, that he went to town" on business," as he told his sister and daughter; really, that he might amuse himself, and he remained away from Hanford over a fortnight. When his affairs were in an unsatisfactory condition, and he saw that only desperate measures could avail, not to recover him, but to stave off a complete break-up, he had begun to draw towards his old associates and dupes. His conversation had acquired a sanctimonious savor, and the cut of his coat had something clerical about it. He laid aside his rather highly colored ties, and adopted black. A moustache he had been cultivating disappeared. But when Josephine acquired the fortune of Gabriel Gotham, all necessity for picking up the old threads of his former life passed away, and he dropped once more the acquaintances and the formalities and restraints he had with a bad grace reassumed under the cogency of adverse circumstances. He was an exceedingly shrewd man, as shrewd as he was unprincipled; he knew the foibles, the follies, the weaknesses of men; but what he did not know, and made no allowance for, were the noble and generous impulses of the heart. He traced all action in life to springs- but these springs were always mean and selfish; consequently, he was occasionally foiled in his calculations. He did not understand his daughter's nature, because he was unable to understand that she could be actuated by any motives involving self-sacrifice. He reSince Richard had crossed the thresh-spected her intelligence, and he relied on old, not once had Josephine been named. One might have supposed that, as far as Richard was concerned, no such person existed. Since he had entered that cottage, no her wit saving her from doing anything injurious to her prospects. Her marriage with Cable had been a puzzle to him; but he supposed that it was due to an unreasoning passion for a time blinding her eyes to her interests. That she regretted | world of men from opposed points. The When Mr. Cornellis went to town "on business," he gave no address where he might be found; he did not desire to be worried by his sister's letters concerning the trivialities of Hanford life; conse quently, his daughter was unable to communicate her intention to him till he was pleased to emerge from the seclusion in which he had kept himself and shrouded his acts whilst in town. When, after a visit to London that lasted somewhat over a fortnight, and had cost him a considerable sum of money, Mr. Cornellis reappeared at Hanford, not much fagged with his business, in a completely new suit, in the latest fashion, from the best tailor, and with a new diamond pin in his tie, he was not in the smallest degree prepared for the surprise his daughter had in store for him. Mr. Cornellis regarded his fellow-men Mr. Cornellis had never taken pains to much as billiard-balls; he had only to gain his daughter's affections; he was walk round the table, level his cue, rest aware that he had not her esteem; there the end between his thumb and forefinger, was always present between them an inand strike, calculating to a nicety the visible barrier. When two intellects are angle at which the balls would fly apart; set in opposition, and the male and elder the cannoning and pocketing would follow is aware that the other is its match, there as a matter of course. All went by rule ensues a sense of injury and aversion. It of dynamics. And Mr. Cornellis would dreads a contest, lest it should sustain a have been right had all his balls been per- fall. Mr. Cornellis had seen his daughfectly round, and absolutely solid, and his ter's mind and character form under his table nicely levelled. But these were ele-eye with an independence that annoyed ments in the game that did not enter into his calculation. It is said that the Englishman rushes into war thoroughly despising his enemy, and that this is the cause of the majority of the disasters which mark the initiation of a campaign. Mr. Cornellis shared the Englishman's contempt for an enemy that is, for every one with whom he had dealings. He undervalued his powers; he disbelieved in moral force, and consequently made no provision to counteract its effects. Stupidity he could allow for; and when he encountered strong principle, he misjudged it, and eschewed it as stupidity deeper than what he had allowed. Mr. Cornellis and the rector viewed the VOL. LX. 3082 LIVING AGE. him. He had not moulded them - they had shaped themselves. Where he had interfered, his interference had brought about results the opposite to what he designed. The chronic antagonism between them had not broken out into civil war till Josephine had declared her intention to her father of taking Richard as her husband. After one savage passage-of-arms, a truce ensued; the father knew he had gone too far, and he used all his arts to recover the lost ground. The marriage of Josephine had brought her closer to him than she had been in her previous life. She had been forced to acknowledge that he was right in his opposition, and to submit to his guidance. He had acquired an ascendency that satisfied him, and he quarrel with him which had driven her rashly supposed that this ascendency was desperate and made her plunge into the final and secure. Mr. Cornellis had writ- sea, she shrank from a private interview; ten to announce his return, and to order and she knew that if he were told what the carriage to meet him at the station. she had decided on whilst she remained He was surprised to see Josephine on the at Hanford, the house would be insupplatform ready to receive him, when he portable. Whatever he might say, he arrived from town by the train he had could not alter her mind. His absence mentioned. This was an attention he had had enabled her to dispose of everything, not anticipated. She was dressed very undisturbed; and now all that remained quietly in her blue serge, and with a close to be done was to inform him of arrangestraw bonnet trimmed with navy-blue rib-ments already completed; and as soon as bons. this was done and she were away, the better for both. "Why, Josephine," said he, taking her arm as he stepped out of the carriage, "what new fad is this dressing like a superior domestic ? " "For the life of me," said Mr. Cornellis, "I cannot see why that precious idiot of a cook of ours should never make bisque "I am glad you have arrived as ap. to my fancy. No great difficulty in poundpointed," said she, without answering his ing prawns, I should have thought. By question. "Had you come by a later the way, Josephine-artichoke soup with train I might have missed you. I am go-crushed almonds is worth living for." ing off by the next up-train." "Indeed? Whither?" "Will you come with me into the ladies' waiting-room-there is no one there or walk with me on the platform whilst I tell you what I have to say?" 66 Well-be sharp. I want to get home, and cannot detain the horses." They walked together out of the station along the platform, where there was no one to overhear their conversation. "You are looking well, papa. I hope you have enjoyed your visit to town? "I have been steeped to the ears in business," he replied. "I got into Kettner's occasionally, and had something really good to eat, neither over-salted nor under-spiced. When I am a little out of sorts, I run in there and have a bowl of bisque. It sets my stomach right when nothing else does-light and nourishing, I am fond of Kettner's, quiet and good wines. The waiter there knows me, and is attentive." Papa, I am going." Papa, I have something very important to tell you. Never mind about soups now. I am afraid "— with a touch of her old self "I am going to salt and flavor your soup not at all to your taste." "Go on with what you have to say; I am impatient to be on my way in the carriage. My train will start in five minutes. I have my ticket, and my boxes are labelled. But I have only five minutes in which to tell you something that will surprise and, I fear, annoy you greatly." "Upon my word," said Mr. Cornellis irritably, "you have the knack of making one uncomfortable. You treat me as the boys treat the plovers. When they have found a nest on the downs, they drive a spiked stick into the ground at the bottom, so that the poor bird cannot sit on her eggs comfortably, and she goes on laying till she has heaped her eggs over the spike, so as to make her seat tolerable. What new stake have you been driving into my home? My whole time and en "So you have told me; but I have not ergies are taken up with covering the been informed whither." "I am going into Somersetshire Bath." "What for?" prickles and goads you fabricate to my near torment." "You have been from home, papa, so it has not been possible for me to consult you since the rector returned from Cornwall." "What did he find there?" "The yacht was wrecked; but Richard and the children and his mother are saved; the other poor fellows are lost." Things might have been managed better," growled Mr. Cornellis. "Poor Richard has injured his thigh, and is likely to be lamed for life." "If he be tied by the leg to the Cornish rocks, so much the better. Are you go-live at the Hall; you will have the two ing as the eagle to tear the entrails of your hundred and fifty in addition to your own Prometheus?" private income, and have the house and garden rent free." Papa, I have been considering about Cousin Gabriel's legacy. You let me accept it; you let me marry Richard without telling me who Richard was. I have learned that now; and I know that Cousin Gabriel performed an act of gross injustice in not recognizing his son and leaving bis estate to him." That was Gotham's concern." "I have inherited what ought to belong to Richard. I have considered the situation, and I have resolved not to take the legacy.' "You have taken it." "I am going to-no, to be correct have already surrendered it." I do not understand you." "I have no right to the estate. When the rector went to Cornwall, I told him to offer it to Richard. You know, papa, that Cousin Gabriel left everything in trust till I married, and that at marriage I became sole possessor, with entire liberty to do what I liked with the property. I was so sure, when I came to consider matters, that Cousin Gabriel meant the estate to pass to his son, through me, that I could in conscience do no other than transfer it to Richard. I have striven to do what is right, and I have made the transfer." He turned his face towards her and opened his mouth to speak. The face was livid and quivering with evil passion. Every veil of disguise had fallen; the ugly villany of the man's soul glared at her out of his eyes. She shuddered. He looked, with his mouth open, as if he could have flown at her and bitten her. He could not speak; he was too greatly agitated to utter a word. "Shall we turn back towards the station?" continued Josephine. "I see it is time for me to be getting into my carriage. II have not much more to say. If I have forgotten anything, Mr. Sellwood will supply the deficiency. Richard is angry with me, and he has cause to be angry. I shall never rest till he forgives me and takes me to his heart again. I have been unworthy of him. I was not well advised; but my own heart was rebellious. I have been proud, and now I am going into the world to learn humility. Papa, Mr. Sellwood will explain to you the course I have elected. I have told Aunt Judith; but she cannot understand. I intend to earn my own livelihood, and earn Richard's respect. There the bell is ringing; I really must be off. I have taken a thirdMr. Cornel-class ticket. Let my arm go, papa. Say good-bye; we shall not meet again for some time. If I have been unlike a daughter to you and failed in love- I ask your pardon. I fear I fear that I have driven à spike into the nest that wounds you." "That impales me," groaned Mr. Cornellis. "You do not mean lis could not finish the sentence; he had turned the color of a Jerusalem artichoke. "I do indeed mean what I say, papa. I have been with the lawyer, and Mr. Sellwood has helped me, and it is all done. The difficulty we have had to contend with is, that Richard absolutely refuses to accept what I offer. I did not think myself justified in retaining any share, and I wanted to make over every penny unreservedly to Richard; but Mr. Sellwood and the solicitor have advised me otherwise, and I have retained an annuity of two hundred and fifty pounds for my separate use as long as I live. But, papa, I had already made up my mind to touch nothing of Cousin Gotham's money- so long as I do not share it with Richard, I till I can receive it from him. So I will not have this annuity for my own self; I give it to you. You shall enjoy that; and unless Richard objects, which is not likely, you can live at the Hall mean "On two hundred and fifty!" CHAPTER XL. THE FIRST SHELF. MISS OTTERBOURNE lived in a handsome old square Queen Anne mansion near Bath. It was built of Bath stone, with rusticated quoins to the angles, with pillars to the grand entrance. A stiff, stately house, with large park-like grounds and beautiful terraced gardens. The house Bewdley Manor was about four miles from the station; and when Josephine arrived, a private omnibus was in waiting to receive her and her boxes. "The coachman was in half livery, the boy out of it. They had come to fetch a servant, so they wore as little of the badge of servitude as might be, just as the officers of her Majesty throw off their uniform the moment they are off parade. "Of course the place must be kept up, and the maintenance of the house and estate will be paid out of the estate. I do not see why you should not continue to "Be you the young lady as is coming were being lighted. She heard the coachto our place?" asked the boy, addressing Josephine. "If you will explain to me what your place is," answered Josephine, "I may perhaps be able to answer your question." "Miss Otterbourne is our old lady," said the boy. "You take a hold of that end of the box, and we'll give it a hoist and heave it up on the roof. Looky' here; stand on the axle, and you'll get it up." "I will call the porter to help you," observed Josephine coldly. "As you like, young woman; but mind you you tip him if he comes and helps." Josephine considered a moment; then, without summoning the porter, stepped on the axle, and assisted in lifting her box upon the roof of the omnibus. If she tipped the porter, it would be with Richard's money. She had come to Bewdley to be a servant; she must begin to work at once. When she sat by herself in the conveyance with her small parcels, she began to realize for the first time the complete change in her circumstances. In the train, she had thought of her father, of Hanford, of Aunt Judith, of the Sellwoods, with a tenderness and melting of the heart which ever and anon filled her eyes. She had spent a happy youth at dear Hanford, following her own whims, going out in her boat as she liked, playing on her piano when she liked, amusing herself in the garden or in the house undirected, uncontrolled by any one. Now, she was about to pass into a position where she would not be able to call her time her own, where she might follow her own desires in nothing. At Hanford, she had been surrounded with friends the kind, good Sellwoods; Lady Brentwood; old Sir John; her affectionate but stupid aunt. Every one knew her there. Now, she was entering the society of total strangers. If she were about to associate with strangers of her own station, it would have been less disquieting; but she was plunging into a social stratum which was to her as strange as the persons composing it, who were about to become her daily companions. It was already evening and dusk as she entered the private omnibus at the station; and she was tired with her journey by train, and with the strain on her mind through which she had passed. Through the square windows of the carriage she saw dimly the meadows, the high hedges, the trees, the cottages, where the lamps man and the boy salute and cast jokes at passing laborers. She saw and heard all, and without taking notice of anything. What she saw and heard mixed with what passed in her head, and formed a conglomerate of conflicting and new experiences and ideas, that left her bewildered and frightened. Presently, the coachman shouted and drew up; then, through the windows, Josephine saw a lodge, and a girl came out and threw apart the iron gates into a park. In another moment the carriage passed through, and the wheels rolled over the smooth drive to the house. Josephine saw that the grounds were extensive, wide lawns over which white mist was settling, out of which rose grand clumps of beech and elm, and here and there a solitary cedar. Then the omnibus turned out of the main drive, and in another moment was rattling over the pavement of the court behind the house. carriage stopped. The boy came to the door and opened it. "Step The "Here you are, miss," he said. up on the axle and help me down with your box; unless you'd like to get on the roof yourself and pass it down to me." "I am afraid I shall not be strong enough to support it. Cannot a groom or some other man help?" 66 Oh, I don't know. I reckon if you want anything done here, you must do it yourself. Every one here is so frightfully engaged over his own work, and it is no one's place to help another." However, the boy condescended to shout, and a footman came to the kitchen door. young lady wants to be helped with her box," said the boy; whereupon the footman came leisurely across the yard and took a good survey of Josephine, espe cially of her face. "The "Come," said he graciously, "as you're so good-looking, I don't mind helping you. A little wanting in style, p'raps. am Mr. Polkinghorn, and you are MissMiss |